First Stop...Chennai

We arrived safely in Chennai at about 12:30 am Xmas morning. After much waiting to disembark the plane, to have our passports stamped, and to identify our luggage among the other 1000 plus bags spinning around the carousel, it was about 1:45 and we were happy to fall into Chris and Beth’s car, so that they could drive us their home (our base for the month).

After having a few drinks and talking for a few hours, we finally were able to fall asleep at about 4 am.

I was wide awake at 10am, happy to see our friends Chris and Beth. Here is a nice photo of them, labelling party favors:


We all hung out for most of the day, and then at about 7:30, a bunch of Chris & Beth’s friends/co-workers from the Consulate began arriving for a cocktail/pizza party, which thankfully didn’t last much past 12 am. Just in case you wanted to know, our Chennai pizza was courtesy of Pizza Hut. Because Indians make such delicious breads, the crust was fine. The toppings, in Beth's words, were "a bad imitation of American pizza, which is a bad imitation of New York City pizza."
But drinks and conversation were plentiful, so we had a very nice time.

And that’s pretty much all there is to tell about Xmas in Chennai.


CHENNAI is not really a walkable city; there is not any network of sidewalks. There are things that look like sidewalks, but we found out that the reason why people walk on the shoulder of the road, is that the "sidewalks" are simply long, concrete covers for the city's plentiful open sewers. Supposedly, the covers there are not very strong (and the sewer ducts in India are used daily by thousands of people as a public toilet); you can imagine that people don't want to risk falling into a nasty open sewer. ick.

There is not a really clear grid or otherwise obvious planning strategy that would make the city easy to navigate for tourists. At first, we were told that busses were not advisable, because most of the folks who ride them do not speak much English, which makes it hard to ask for directions. And, since Chris and Beth never ride the busses, they could not tell us anything about the routes to use. We did ride other busses in India, but more on that later.

The best strategy (other than being driven in Chris and Beth's car) would be to catch an autorickshaw, which is exactly what it sounds like, and it is Chennai’s answer to the taxi.


Autorickshaws consist of a small space in the front where the driver sits (with some space leftover for the driver's friend to sit and keep him company while he works), and a slightly larger space in the back that comfortably seats 2 (but many Indians are happy to seat 4 or more in the back of an autorickshaw--I am not exaggerating).

Fortunately for us, Chris and Beth have a lovely old Ambassador, and an equally lovely driver named Rajendran.
Since Rejendran doesn’t have too much to do all day while his employers are at work, he was very excited to spend his free time in the middle of the day driving us around town.

Rajendran’s English is pretty terrible, and our Tamil is non-existent. But with patience and a talent for hand gestures on both sides of the conversation, we became a captive audience to Rajendran’s very capable tour guiding, and he took us everywhere we requested to go, and showed us every landmark--big or small--in Chennai. Especially important to Rajendran were Banks and Hotels--he showed all of them to us.

During the entire time we were in Chennai, I saw about 3 stoplights and/or stopsigns. There were thousands of intersections, mind you (and don’t forget that all of the cars drive on the opposite side of the road), and I was am amazed that people seem to instinctually know how to get through all of the traffic with so few directional signs. Surprisingly, it didn't take too long to get comfortable driving there (even without seatbelts)--Chris and Rajendran were both very capable and confident drivers.

Another issue of note regarding driving in India, is that almost no one looks behind them when they drive, unless they are backing out of a parking space. It is each driver’s responsibility to look ahead and be mindful of what is coming. But when one changes lanes, merges, turns, etc., no one looks back to see what is coming. Part of what helps to keep this system working is the Constant Honking. Drivers, bikers, autorickshaws, motorcylists Constantly Honk when they are coming up on other drivers, on intersections, when they want someone to move over, etc. It’s really terrifying at first, but since no one’s really talking on their cell phones, and everyone is intently looking forward at what is happening, it all seems to work somehow.

The hierarchy of modes of transport seemed exactly equal to class status. Here it is, as follows, from highest to lowest:

Car
Autorickshaw Passenger
Motorbike/Motorcyle/Moped
Bus
Bicycle
Walker


I am also very impressed with the level of bravery many of the women here have, as I have seen so many of them riding side-saddle in saris on the back of someone’s bicycle or motor bike. Another common sight is practically a whole family on a motorcycle (dad driving, mom behind him with son and/or daughter between them and mom holding baby in arms).

Barely anyone wears a helmet—which is totally insane of course. I asked Chris about this and he said it may be because of the pervasive Hindu attitude that when it’s your time to go, regardless of what you do, it’s your time to go.

Unfortunately, we did see one bad accident, with a motorcyclist on the ground who was clearly in seriously bad shape. It was pretty upsetting. Everytime there is even a small accident or problem, people descend on the road and try to help, usually by pulling the injured off of the road until help arrives. But of course, for those of us who know anything about head trauma, the type of action that means to be helpful could well end up guaranteeing someone’s death.

In the middle of the first week at about 2am, I became Very Sick indeed. In fact, I spent the entire next 12 hours being Very Sick. As I have had food poisoning about 6 times, it seemed exactly like that, and I'm still not sure if I ate something that wasn't well washed, ingested a parasite by getting shower water in my mouth, or what.

In case anyone is interested, I am pretty tired of getting food poisoning, and I wonder if I have exceeded my lifetime quota by now. Bah! I have to say that I was thankful that I was Very Sick with access to a comfortable bed and bathroom, rather than when we went on the road.



To help my recovery, (and because it only cost $40 for both of us) Breck and I went into town on the day before New Year's Eve and got Thai massages (here is Breck, in his Thai massage pajamas, on his way to his Very First Massage).

It was really beautiful at the massage place--they laid Breck and I on mats on a balcony overlooking a garden, and massaged both of us simultaneously.

Before you get one, I must caution you. I have never had a Thai massage before. I have had many other types of massages, and I must tell you that this one was by far THE MOST PAINFUL one I have ever experienced. It got better toward the second half, and consisted more of stretching and pulling my muscles near the end; I rather enjoyed that part. But the first part was pretty difficult to tolerate, with a lot of really deep tissue pushing into my muscles, and around my shin bones and thighs. When they did my arms—Sweet Baby Jesus it HURT!

I wonder if they have an afternoon in Thai Massage School to show the students How to Not Break the Client’s Arm, because my arms did not break. Though, I did experience some uncomfortable fantasies about what the inside of a Chennai hospital would look like, just in case my bones gave way.



On New Year's Eve, we were off to the Madras Club, some swanky place left over from the time of the Maharaja. You have to be a member to get in, but friends of Chris and Beth are members, and invited the entire consulate, so we spent NYE there.

Breck got a brand new jacket and pants made in town by the wonderful tailors at Said Barker, because the Madras does not let you in if you are not appropriately dressed.

As a rule, I don't expect much from NYE, because for many years I have had great expectations for the holiday. These expectations have usually been unfulfilled, so I have learned to not ask for too much from the holiday, and just enjoy whatever it provides. NYE at the Madras was not much more exciting for me than any other year, but we felt lovely being so fancy.


AFTER the exit of the British government from India, membership was taken over mainly by wealthy Indians in Chennai. The Madras Club is like any other country club you can imagine, with the usual black tie events, swimming pool, and other assorted activities for the economically comfortable of all ages. We're told that quite a few families from the US Consulate join the Madras Club, because it's a good place to put children when you need to send them somewhere.

Since this was a special occasion, we were only able to see the more formal aspects of the Madras--and the place was all sparkle and hum.

Tickets were quite expensive ($30 each) compared to usual Indian prices, and the food from the buffet was seriously below par. And for some reason, when we tried to order drinks, the waiters insisted on asking us for a Membership Number, so that they could run a tab to charge us for alcohol, which we were originally told would be free. The club had also told members that they could bring in bottles of wine, but when people attempted to bring wine into the club, the doormen would not grant them permission to bring it in. UNACCEPTABLE!! Luckily, we brought 2 of Beth's handy flasks filled with whiskey which, of course, saved the day.

The shindig was outside, since December in Chennai ranges from about 75 to 90 degrees. There were tables set up for about 500 people, but it seemed like there were only 150 people there--from the looks of everything, we did not plan on staying much past midnight. There was a band playing horrible American music--I'm talking Kenny Loggins, Rick Astley, and the worst of Kool and the Gang--and a throng of people thrashed around the dance floor like seals-out-of-water. They seemed to be having more fun than anyone, so I suppose I can't be too critical. After the fireworks at 12 midnight, the four of us promptly ran out of there, citing Breck's and my weakened state from jet lag as the reason for our early departure.