Weddings

A couple of days ago, my walk home from work was interrupted by a wedding procession.  A hundred or so men in red turbans and women in brightly colored sarees marched along with the groom, who rode on an ornamented white horse.  These lamps were lifted on top of people's heads.  My camera was buried in my purse, so unfortunately I have no photo evidence of the white horse or lovely sarees.  And of course it's not the same when you don't hear the blaring music spurring on the festivities.

And last week, my friend and boss got married!  She was the most beautiful bride...

And I borrowed a gorgeous saree from my dear friend Lakshmi Priya.  Thanks to Nicolette for helping me get dressed!

There were hundreds of people at her wedding, including everyone from our office, a few of us pictured below.  There was also a 12-person band, a popcorn machine, and the traditional rice dish biriyani served on banana leaves at long tables where guests rotated and the banana leaves were folded up and the next line of hungry, happy people sat down to chow down.

Shout out to Meggie and Lauren: the past few weeks and months that Hephzibah has been choosing invitations, wedding sarees, house-hunting, etc has made me miss each of you but feel vicariously connected to your respective wedding/marriage/life planning!

A Sunday drive

I remember my mom telling us that when she was a little girl, she used to take Sunday drives. Sometimes ice cream was involved, but sometimes the six Glancy kids packed into the car, no doubt fighting for a window seat, and just drove. A Sunday drive. I thought about that this morning as I drove home from church. My auto driver chose to take some back roads, perhaps an attempt at a short cut. It definitely wasn't shorter, but it was unfamiliar and therefore I paid more attention than I often do when I'm rushing from one place to another.

Smoke and smells of idly and dosa swirled out of the tiny homes, patched together with slanty roofs and cardboard cross sections. We skidded on rocks and broken somethings as we swerved to avoid the young mother with a shorts-less baby on her hip and a plate of leftover cooking scraps. She tossed the rubbish into the thin river, adding to the trash lining the banks and adding to the confusing smell in the muggy air.

Little boys ran next to my auto, shouting in high-pitched voices and pointing and laughing at the strange girl passing through their neighborhood. We whizzed passed another woman bargaining with a man, his bicycle basket full of tomatoes and and an antique scale tied to the rusted sides. I made eye contact with a very skinny man in a plaid turban, who was leading a mud-colored and mud-covered bull down the middle of the tight street. Stray dogs yapped as a gang of preteen boys gathered for a game of cricket in the same street. A goat was tied to a post. A woman in a bright red saree walked down the street with tired arms hanging at her small sides and a large bag of rice balanced casually atop her head.

We pulled out onto a main road I half recognized and then approached an overpass I knew. A lorry in front of my tiny auto sputtered and threatened to cloud my driver's vision with an impressive puff of black exhaust. Men sat on top of the bags and boxes and loose trash filling the bed of the truck. Motorcycles and scooters competed with us for a front row spot at the starting line of the traffic signal. One little girl caught my eye, pretty jasmine pinned into her pretty hair, her arms wrapped around her father's waist. On my other side, a little boy in his father's lap, a mother seated behind them, and another 8 or 10-year-old girl behind--all on the same motorbike. I wondered if they were on a Sunday drive, headed to Greams Road Fruit Shop for a strawberry shake or sweet lime juice.

Shopping: just go with the flow

This weekend, my friend Priya took me and two other interns shopping, Martine and Kim. We got to experience how the locals shop: en masse. Put yourself in my shoes and watch this clip:

I took my first "share auto" with these gals; we hopped in a [slightly] oversized auto rickshaw with a handful of strangers and rode to T. Nagar, a part of town renown for its massive saree and salwar stores...and crowds.

Stacks of fabric for new salwar sets: top, bottoms and a dupata (or scarf). The men behind the counter pull down whichever set you want to see, then you buy and take to a tailor for the final product.

Shops line both sides of the street. Shoppers line the street.

Shopping in this kind of crowd requires some serious energy. Priya introduced us to sugarcane juice. Not my fave--very bitter and tasted a lot like I imagine a grass and root smoothie might taste. But I'm all for trying new things.

mmm, Samosas. Now here's a street food I like. Some sort of mystery mash with potatoes, lentils, maybe some veggies...all fried up in a poof of pastry-like dough. Martine, Priya, me. What's not to love?

Although I'll stick to sweet lime or strawberry juice, I do appreciate the labor-intensive process for juicing sugarcane. Check it out:

P.S. Where you able to view my video clips?

Living a strangely normal life here

I think I am finally realizing that this is my reality. Living here in South Asia, that is, working for IJM. The reality sinking in a little more each day is just as exciting, if not more, as the beginning days of wide-eyed discovery. I'm amazed that my calendar tells me it is May. Although the stifling hot temperatures certainly confirm the official start of summer in the city.

Strangely, these are a few normal parts of my life now:

* Power outages. As the city heats up and the A/C's cool down, the power goes out sporadically, and I'm told with increasing frequency. So sometimes I wake up to an especially quiet room at 3am, with no noisy A/C and no need for my thin covers. Other times I just switch gears entirely; like last week when I was working on my resume and an application for a potential post-IJM opportunity and the power went out, taking my nicely worded Word documents with it. (My laptop battery is totally dead and needs to be plugged in 100% of the time; this is a problem I can and will fix...at some point.) And then there was today, when the power went out just as I opened my Outlook inbox. It came on 20 or 30 minutes later, but the internet and our server never did. So you learn to improvise, adjust, and hit "save" incessantly.

* Strikes. Last week we had an impromptu holiday, or a "bundt" day, thanks to a "voluntary" strike issued by the state government. Everything was closed from 6 am to 6 pm, a statewide day of silent protest against the civil war and bloody dispute escalating between the "Tamil Tigers" and government in Sri Lanka. The "Tamil Tigers" are demanding separate recognition and rights, and the Sri Lankan government has been attempting to quell their small and weakening uprising. The state where I am is closely tied to the Tamil Tigers, due to the shared nationality and heritage. Over the past several months I have been here, I have witnessed many protests and gatherings about the Sri Lanka conflict. On several occasions, our advocates have not been able to attend hearings because various advocate unions are on strike and it is unsafe for lawyers to enter court premises. A month or so ago, one advocate was actually beaten to death during a bitter dispute between civilians, advocates and police in the very courtyard of the High Court here in the city.

* Crowds. Words fail me. Check out tomorrow's blog entry.

Ironic Note: literally, as I clicked "post," the power went out and my blog entry disappeared into the dark. At least I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Training weekend

This weekend, IJM partnered with another international nonprofit here in the city to conduct a police training on identifying, rescuing and preventing child trafficking. One of our talented advocates delivered a dynamic presentation to about 60 police officers, first defining what trafficking is and how children are exploited in this way, and then explaining what laws exist and how they protect kids and prosecute traffickers. Not much help during the lecture or case study groups which simulated trafficking scenarios (and were conducted in Tamil), I took photos during the event and wrote up a brief story highlighting the significance of the event for IJM headquarters.

Our office is in an exciting position right now, expanding from specialized casework to a total structural transformation. Our investigators, aftercare managers and lawyers will continue to rescue, rehabilitate and advocate for individuals who have been forced to labor as slaves. But we are also seeking to change the political and social structures which allow the injustice of forced labor slavery to exist, despite laws against it.

The police training was an important "first" for our office. IJM has a team of talented lawyers who really understand the laws surrounding forced labor. We hope to be a resource for local law enforcement agencies, to offer our expertise and aid them in enforcing laws that already exist.

Work is busy as usual, but I'm working on a variety of projects which makes the days pass quickly and the mundane stay away. It's getting hot; it was over 100 degrees today, plus A LOT MORE humidity. And there's no salty breeze, just sticky city air. So I'm grateful for the AC in my office and the juice bars on many a corner, blending just-in-season mangoes for a refreshing afternoon treat.

Paradise Part Three: Unwinding in Seminyak

Our final destination: the hip beach town, Seminyak, on Bali.

This door speaks for itself.

Road to the beach. Best by motorcycle.

Surf? Shells? Massage? Cocktail? Knock-off watch? This beach has it all.

My view of relaxation.

Dusk at the beach is pretty.

Sunset is nice too.

Who needs shoes when you're walking around a blissful beach town? I found out they're necessary as we followed my suggested shortcut through a construction zone. Chardaie offered a piggy back ride and Joel laughed (a lot).

Typical cafe. No walls, lots of breezes. Chalkboard menus are casual and practical: only the freshest food is served.

Not just a paradise for beach bums and foodies, this town is full of art. Detail of a wood carving set into a random wall along the road.

Fascinating art.

A home grown art gallery.

Final night on vacation.

Paradise Part Two: Discovering Ubud

Welcome to Bali. Yes, this is a wild orchid.

Me, Joel and Chardaie. About to enjoy another delicious Balinese meal. (After watching a dance/theatrical perfomance of the Hindu legend, The Ramayana. Complete with elaborate costuming, dozens of men chanting and shouting to create the rhythmic beat and a man who not only walked on burning coal, but kicked them ferociously around the stage--barely contained by low metal partitions.) A lovely art gallery featuring a local artist right next to the tiny alley leading to our homestay. Also across the street from "Cafe Des Artistes," a chic restaurant where I sipped a glass of vino and enjoyed Crepes Suzette one evening when my traveling companions opted to head home early-ish.Ala's Hibiscus. Our "bungalow." Two bedrooms. A terrace. Surrounded by verdan green rice paddies. Fresh breakfast served to our rooms. Hot tea every evening before retiring. Total: price-less at $35.

The aforementioned rice paddies.

I enjoyed the ubiquitous stone statues in Ubud.

A typical street in Ubud.

Also a typical street in Ubud.
A typical way to carry fruit to the market or temple in Ubud.

Typical, beautiful woodwork. I was in love with the intricate wood carvings, from picture frame to door frame.A typical assortment of offerings. These tiny boxes were crafted from banana leaves or other natural materials, filled with bits of rice, cracker, flowers and lemons. I actually spied a few offerings with cigarettes! The offerings are put out periodically throughout the day...everywhere. In front of stores, homes, car dashboards, motorcycles, mailboxes...you get the idea.
Not your typical tourists to Ubud: Chardaie and me. While Bali is a tourism hotspot for Indonesia, most of the backpackers we met and honeymooners we observed were from Australia or Europe. 8 times out of 10, when we told a curious, friendly Indonesian shopkeeper (or random passerby) where we were from, they responded with an excited "OBAMA!" One man told us to tell his good friend Obama hi when we got back to America.

These little boys had the most adorable laughs. I happily agreed to pose for a picture.

So long, Bali. I'll be back someday...