mikeShriver

The resort Saji picked out for us is incredibly nice. He keeps talking it down as if it is the worst place he could have picked. Kerala is lush, green, tropical, the farthest south I have ever been. The internet only works for one computer at a time, so I am forced to entertain myself  otherwise while my dad checks his mail.

I met Saji, finally, after so many years of just hearing about him. I think I can see why my dad likes him, and it’s a large part of why I don’t. He is a very forceful person, direct and forward, moreso than anyone I have encountered before, I think. He is making a great show out of getting me to ‘come out of my shell.’ 

He does recognize the importance of education in poor areas, and this I respect. He has asked my dad to give a speech on the topic, to which my dad replied “Are you sure I am the right guy to speak on this?” (the question is valid, and the answer is ‘no’). He either doesn’t agree upon it’s value, or he hasn’t taken enough time to think about it’s ultimate consequences. He is certainly concerned for these people, but he hasn’t given much thought to the benefit of social programs in underprivileged areas. He will most likely turn it into an admonition to spread the bible.

I almost offered to give the talk, myself.

Tags: India, Travel Journal.

Dad and I got our hotel in Delhi, tomorrow we fly to Kerala, in the south, and maybe get a chance to relax a little. Our room number is 413, a number who’s significance I have yet to fully understand (a personal superstition).

Touristy things were wonderful, tiring as always. I really dislike doing touristy things with others, sometimes I just wish I could sit on a bench at a place like the Taj and just watch the other tourists for a few hours.

The girls flew out, hopefully. Kristen still looked pretty bad. hopefully she’ll start to feel better when she gets home and has a chance to rest.

Tags: India, Travel Journal.

March 28th, 2009

The trip is  9-hour taxi ride along what we are told is one of the deadliest highways in the world. From what I saw yesterday, 3 of those hours will probably be spent in Delhi traffic (this is not an exaggeration, to my estimate). 

This leg is tourism-only. We go to see the Taj and the Agra Fort, and in the morning back to Delhi to fly the girls home. We got a new taxi for this ride, one with a luggage rack and seat belts for everyone. It will be infinitely more manageable, and I might do some enjoying along the way.

Kristen’s eardrum burst while we were in Jind, and she is in a great deal of pain right now.

Tags: India, Travel Journal.

I am surprised by the incompetence of these people. Starting with the hotel debacle two nights ago, we’ve had pretty much nothing cot miscommunication, and wasted time. I’m surprised anything ever gets done around here, especially at Mission India. 

Delhi was a mess. I don’t think we were expected to want a tourist day when we arrived, so our taxi driver expected to take us straight back to Jind, which is where he was from. He didn’t know his way around Delhi at all, and we spent most of the day lost in the car, trying to find the tourist attractions in Delhi. We never got any shopping done, and I think that annoyed my sisters who have to leave the country in a few days. I was so ticked off at being stuck in the car all day, that I was ready to be done. This taxi was smaller than the last one, and didn’t have a  luggage rack for our stuff, so we had to cram our bags and our host into the very back. I feel pretty bad about him having to ride back there the whole way. I am not looking forward to the 9-hour ride to Agra, I don’t think I can handle another ride with no seatbelt.

Tags: India, Travel Journal.

The last few days have been a rush. The bible college had its dedicationand we rushed back to Ahmedabad to get in a little sightseeing. Some highlights:

• Ghandi’s house
• A million colors
• The Cutest Little Girl in India
• Enormous Hindu Temple (Now with Waterslides!)
• A crumbling, but apparently operational nuclear reactor, slums huddled right up to the base of the cooling towers (This may be my favorite image of the trip so far)

Some frustrations:

• Another harrowing taxi ride (we will have 15 more hours of this before this trip is ended)
• Frantic and exhausted tourism
• Bulb mode (seriously, WTF, camera?)
• Regi’s nonstop, poorly conceived speeches.
• My family’s blundering attempts at transit (we have an obscene number of possessions for this place)
• A shitstorm of a hotel check in (two hours?). The building wasn’t even complete, yet; not enough beds; it looked like someone took a shit in the sink, and I was already exhausted walking in.

Ghandi’s house was cool, though. We didn’t get to stay long, but sometimes the appeal is in saying you went.

Tags: India, Travel Journal.

Pastor’s conference at a newly built bible college outside town. My father was the headline speaker. He gave a preddy standard couple of speeches on evangelism, preaching, etc… His first sermon, about “The Most Important Thing” for pastors focused on preaching the gospel.  As I listened, I found myself more and more frustrated. I can’t shake the feeling that he completely misses the point.

It wasn’t until the end that I realized why I was getting so angry. The point he was missing is summed up pretty well in Jesus’ own words. The most important commandments both have to do with love, and not with obligations to the world, or to God. He is so fixated with interpreting Paul and his letters that he misses Jesus words, which are pretty explicit. My anger started to give way to sadness after that. If this is the seed he sows in India, this entire mission is based on hollow dogma, and that is all it will reap.

We are a spectacle here. Apparently white folks don’t much make it to Surendra Nagar. We had the chance to briefly tour a candy factory (an unexpected connection through the campus contractor got us inside). 350 Indian girls sit on the packing floor packing lozenges in wrappers, and I was the spectacle.

Rebekah and Kristen got their share of attention, as well. The factory chairman quipped after we told him we were going clothes shopping later in the night, “Shopping? In Surendra Nagar? You’ll be on the news tomorrow!” We didn’t stick around to check the newspapers.

One thing that surprises me, I have been almost constantly paranoid since I have gotten here. I don’t think I felt this nervous in Morocco, even the night we spent wandering the streets of an abandoned Marrakech. It’s kind of aggravating that I can’t shake the feeling that someone here wants to do me harm. Especially when I have every rational reason to believe otherwise.

Tags: India, Travel Journal.

Jet lag, constant motion and uneasy sleep have prevented me from journaling consistently. Yesterday’s church was long and uncomfortable. We were referred to, several times, as a ‘missionary family,’ an uneasy label for me. I consider myself a tourist at best, especially given my discomfort with some of the ideas that the evangelical church is so fixated on.

We were given a tour of the Mission India Bible College campus, which is enormous (A lot bigger than I expected it to be). They have a decidedly evangelical agenda, but included on the campus are a community serving children’s home/school and an (as yet, incomplete) community hospital, which is encouraging. The area will most certainly benefit from these services.

My father made a comment in regards to the School of Preaching. He said something to the effect of “there is nothing more important than preaching God’s word.” I can think of a few things, we have a few disagreements on these points.

This afternoon ended an 18 hour train ride from Nagpur to Ahmedabad. Somewhat disappointingly, it was nothing like the Darjeeling Limited. It did give a great summary view of the Indian countryside.

Following the train, a three-hour taxi ride took us to Surendranagar. This was probably the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced. The driving that seemed quaintly chaotic in the city is safe because no kind of speed is ever achieved. When applied to an open highway, the experience changes from a bit of local color to a blood-draining death ride (witness some death, we did, in the aftermath of a collision between two commercial trucks. Who knows how long the bodies sat there).

On the positive, the ride probably helped with my jet lag, as no sleep was to be had in the car. During the ride, I felt myself surprisingly angry at the situation. An anger that was difficult to explain, but probably stemmed from fear of death.

Tags: India, Travel Journal.

They make a wonderful tea here, hot chai, but sweet and extremely milky. It is as follows:

• Boil one part milk and one part water separately and mix
• Steep with tea, and spices of choice
• Sweeten the shit out of that bitch

It is quite enjoyable.

I had a story to tell, yesterday, but I’ve forgotten it.

Today is church. I expect to be asked to say something to the congregation. A greeting would be doable, but if I am asked to speak about God, I have no idea what I will say.

Another obligatory driving note: In the chaos of horns and lights – when that choir is the primary form that communication takes – A human cry is out of place, and piercingly unsettling.

Tags: India, Travel Journal.

People watching in Newark airport, and actually, it’s far more enjoyable than I give it credit for. Night is falling on a full day of travel, and I am still not halfway to my destination. This is my second time in NJ, both this year, both in Transit. I’ve always wondered about the bad reputation that this state gets. Every comment I got regarding the location of my layover was negative. I haven’t seen any justification for the negativity on my visits, although my visits are admittedly infrequent and without depth.

Tom Sine has charged me with journaling my travels, Which I know is the right thing to do. Writing for three weeks will more than fill up this book, upon which realization, I had to rush to the airport bookstore and buy a new pack of cashiers. My fierce brand loyalty disgusts me and betrays the hipster which is hidden so poorly inside my middlingly hip facade.

My parents have just landed and we are having a stunted SMS conversation while I try to direct them to the proper gate. The east coast sun is setting over a hazy New York City. Hundreds of people are making time, passing me pass time, waxing poetic. (A woman just asked me if I will be in the airport long enough to go to the food court and I said ‘no.’ I will almost certainly see her again, probably at the food court. I should try to be more helpful to people.)

Interesting people.

–

Arrived in India and we have a few hours to sleep and try to re-adjust our clocks.

An obligatory note about the driving: The operative theory seems to be that you are responsible only for what is immediately in front of you. Horns and lights a valid and well-used means of communication.

Tags: India, Travel Journal.

The vending machine ripped me off today. It alarms me how much this bothered me. I don’t normally buy from machines, but today, I was especially hungry, and therefore desperate. One dollar in, my selection made, but my delicious corn-based onion-themed snack remained lodged in the silver maw of commerce. I had to have this, so I broke a five at the coffee stand and threw more money at the problem, in order to push my previous bag within my ever-desperate reach. Of course, the second bag stuck, as well, and my impotent anger grew.

I gave up on the endeavor, the last the I wanted was 3 bags of Funyuns. Fuck, I didn’t really even want the first bag, it just seemed like the most appealing thing in there at the time. So, now I am out 2 dollars for 2 bags of shit snack-food that I didn’t want in the first place. And, I’m still hungry.

I call the number listed on the machine, and hang up as soon as the phone is answered. To my surprise a living human picked up the phone, and the last thing I want to do is interact with a human being. A machine was good enough to rip me off, can’t a machine be good enough to recompense me?

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