Ooty through Mysore

---

Hello everyone,

Greetings from the last leg of this journey. I leave India in two days to fly the long trip home through Bangkok, Hong Kong, LA, and at last Seattle.

India has been a love affair, complete with the blissful moments walking on clouds, and the nasty arguments that make you want to break up.

Jeanne left me about a week ago in Ooty and headed towards Chennai where she was to fly out towards Malaysia. I opted to stay in Ooty so I could visit the school for the Deaf and see what unfolded from that experience. I am so glad that I did! Ooty was where I fell head over heels in love with the people, and started to have really meaningful connections.

I loved travelling with Jeanne, but what I found after she left was that there is a very different response to one woman travelling alone. Part of that may be because in Indian culture one is never alone, and particulary not women, so when people saw me, they just wanted to scoop me up and take me in. After I sent Jeanne off, I wandered back to the bazaar road in Ooty looking for advenure. I found it almost immediately when I stopped at one of the local tailors who line the streets with their foot driven sewing machines, and asked him to mend my camera bag. He worked in the stall of a sari seller, and the sari seller began asking me about myself, my country, the customs there, etc. He was so curious, and it felt wonderful to have curiosity flow in both directions rather than me being the intrusive traveler poking into people's business. Before long, he excitedly called out his wife, and then his daughter, offered me tea, and we took pictures all round. He made me promise to come back every day that I was in Ooty, and when I wandered off an hour later, I had a huge grin spread on face. I kept my promise, and had a daily visit with them until I left.

The next day I took an amazing trek through the hills of ooty with a guide named Anthony. There are many Christian Indians in that area because the town was built by the British. It was a beautiful day through villages, tea plantations, hill tribe settlements, and vistas. Ooty is very temperate, and it felt a lot like being home in the NW, except for the dry climate and Eucalyptus trees everywhere. The British brought those from Australia, and its actually causing quite a water problem because they suck up anything around.

The following day I went off to visit the Deaf school. I arrived during flag ceremonies, and noticed first off that they were not signing. I walked up to one of the teachers and began to sign to him that I was from America, and I would like to visit for the day. He answered me by drawing letters in his hand that I couldn't decipher, and then motioned to wait until the flag ceremony was over. The kids went through the motions, tried to sing some anthem to the flag, and then at last the torture was over and they flocked to the classrooms, stealing glances at me as they whispered together in excitement.

One of the teachers motioned to me to come with her to the classroom, and again I tried to sign in ASL, since the boys on the train had signed that. She said, "no ASL, Tamil sign language." I tried to explain that I had met boys on the train who signed ASL, but her English was so limited, we didn't get far. I went into the class, and she spoke Tamil and signed at the same time. A few signs were decipherable, like airplane, and I could see she was explaining that I had flown here from America. The kids were so excited, and we haltingly communicated in what signs we could connect with.

I went from classroom to classroom, having them write their names on the board, show me their name signs, and we traded signs in ASL and Tamil. I learned how to sign girl, boy, mother father, the british alphabet, India, America, school, etc. It was wonderful. We then filed to the lunch room, ate together, and there I was befriended two of the teachers, Maria and a woman with an Indian name that I can't remember. Maria was quite skilled in English, so finally I learned that the boys I had met are in college level school for the Deaf in Chennai, and there they must teach ASL. We talked about many other things, including religion. She is Christian, and it was clear she had never met a Jew. She was so excited that I was from the same people as Jesus, and kept telling me I looked like her picture of him on her wall.

After school and many many photo ops, Maria whisked me away and took me to her home to meet her family and have dinner with them. She told me we were like sisters, and I must keep in touch with them. Felix, her son, took me all around Ooty the next day, and then sent me off in the evening on a bus headed towards Masinagudi, which is right outside of Madumalai National Park.

When I arrived in Masinagudi, my bus was met by a treking guide named Joseph, and I arranged to meet him at 6:00 am (!) the following morning to go into the bush and try to see animals.
The next morning, which was freezing, I wearily met him and his friend Sami, and we tromped out into the bush, which was just waking up. We saw leopard prints immediately, and over the course of the morning saw elephants, spotted deer, samba deer, eagles, mourning doves, woodpeckers. After the trek, I decided to stay an extra day so I could hang out with the monkeys who were all over the town.

I decided to explore the town, since it was so cute, and within five minutes, I passed a sweet looking family sitting on their stoop. They called out to me, and I asked if I could take their picture. They happily aquiessed, and another strong connection was forged. I stayed all day, snapping photos, having my hand hennad, my nails painted, getting fed constantly, and finally they asked if they could dress me up in a sari and take my picture. They wanted to beautify this poor American who wore men's clothes, had no jewelry or paint on,etc. It was a blast. I promised once again to keep in touch, to come back for the 18 year olds wedding (I had promised Felix the same thing), and left sated again with the intensity of strong connection.

I am wary of my return to the states where people live so seperately, and have such a focus on material things. These women were sisters, cousins, and an aunt, and all lived together or right next to each other, the sisters in the same home as their parents, and their children running around together all day. The home was a cement hut with a small dark living space, and two small sleeping rooms that doubled as a dining room. Maria's house was the same, but only two rooms, one that doubled as a dining room. They simply throw a bamboo mat over the bed, and it becomes the table. I asked Felix which room was the boys room at Maria's house, and he said that they don't have rooms, they just sleep wherever, sometimes in here, sometimes in there. The feeling between people was so evidently close. I felt deep sadness at the lack of what Peggy called tribal connection in America.

Vishnu, Joseph's cousin, invited me to go on the trek again the next day for free, so I happily agreed. I also wanted more time with the monkeys, I believe they are Macaques. Mischevious little things, they come right up to the door of the hotel, climb over everything, steal vendors food, and have many many babies.

So, many of you may be wondering where the bumps are in this happy relationship. Besides the continuing dirt and garbage, which I am really getting used to, the crazy drivers, which seem to have much more skill than I gave them credit for, there is a pushiness, especially in Indian men, that gets really old. I have found it to be the worst here in Mysore, where I came yesterday morning to spend my last few days. Mysore is a bigger town than Ooty, and has much more charm. It also has more tourists, and the touts and boys looking for commisions are crawling everywhere. It is impossible to even walk down the road without being bombarded by choruses of "Madam, Hello! From where, Madam?!". I am learning to completely ignore them, though my natural urge was to engage at first. That is not possible here in Mysore. After getting dragged to an incense store by a boy claiming I looked just like his dear sweet mother, and she would love to meet me, I decided to take the hard line in Mysore. It is the only way to survive.

The other frustrating thing about India is how long everything takes to figure out, and how not helpful people are in this regard. I will give you an example of trying to mail the pictures to the family in Masinagudi. I won't give the example of trying to take a train, because even the memory of it causes my adrenaline to raise. Just take this post office experiene, times it by ten, and that is the train experience of most travellers.

Trying to mail my letter, I first needed an envelope, and to locate the post office. I asked around where the PO was, and again was directed all over town with the famous hand wave. At long last, after tenacious requests for specifics, I located it upstairs, not labeled, on a balcony above a row of stores. I went in and stood in line for stamps, and asked if they had envelopes to put the pictures in. No, they didn't. Where could I get them. Book seller. Where was the book seller? Down (hand wave). Directly below? Head wobble. (This is the notorious Indian nod which means ok, yes, I hear you, or I want to end the conversation so go away.) I asked again, directly below? Yes. I went down, and I don't know what directly means to her, but there was no bookstore there. I rounded the corner, found one, and asked if they have envelopes. No madam, not here. Then where? Other book seller across the square. Where across, directly across? Yes, yes, over there (hand wave). I crossed through the horses, bikes, rickshaws, motorbikes, and cars, and wound around center statue to the corner the hand waved to. No book store, but a magazine stand. Envelopes? No madam, not here. Then where? Next stall. Right next door? Yes, yes madam, next. Next door there was a sari stand. Interesting. A few stalls down, there was a book seller. Envelopes? No madam (internal screaaaam). Where, next madam. Finally, the next one had flimsy envelopes. I packed up the pics, and made my way back to the PO, stood in line for the weighing, then was told to go to the stamp line. Got my stamps, licked them, and watched them curl up. Asked a man standing there, why won't the stamps stick. No, no madam! Hand wave towards a cup with old sticky past and a wooden stick. Oh, you must wipe the stick of dried old glue on the stamp. Then what? Where do I put my letter. Box downstairs? Yes madam. I went downstairs, and at long last deposited that letter. Sigh of relief! And yes, the train experience was 10 times worse. But, you get the idea. Enough to want to end the relationship immediately, despite offers of chai, food, lifelong friendship, and community!

Well, enough for my last entry! Than you all for listening, writing, sending your thoughts, etc. This has been an experience rich in every way, and I have planted a travel bug that will be crawling around for a long time.

Love,
Suzanne

---

Photos

My adopted Ooty family
After visiting the school for the
Deaf, Maria took me home for dinner with her family.

Swapping customs
Maria's son Felix took me around Ooty all day. Here he tried eating with a spoon, while I went for the traditional method of using the right hand.

Cow reprimand
Cows are everywhere in India; wandering the streets, munching at the vendors stalls. This vendor was not happy with this non-paying customer!

Filling up with water for the hotel
At the end of my trek in Masinagudi, I spied this man and his cow filling up with river water to fill the hotel tanks.

Young gypsy mother and son
You can see that this girl is about 13 or so.

The town gossips
Most Indians were very hospitable, but these two young mothers wouldn't give me the time of day.

Comments

[Ron Rodney]

I am Missing the Chiang mai Gang
I think you express yourself very enjoying and I am looking forward for more of that Blog stuff Love Ron

[Gloria]

Hi Suzanne, may be u have any contacts (email, phone numbers) of Vishnu or joseph in Masinagudi? I met them also, but I forgot one thing in the lodge! thenk u bye