Day 47 –Chennai, India

Oct 14th

Diplomatic briefing
Lawrence Lane from the US Consult spoke about the cultural differences in India. He discussed the huge IT business developing in Chennai and Mumbai, and the positive US-India relations that encourage a great number of Indian students to transfer to US universities. He told us not to go to the wine shops since they “are not for us” and since the drinking age is 25. It is normal for men to hold hands as a sign of friendship, he explained. There are no male-female expressions of love in public. Currently, it is the beginning of Duwali the ‘Festival of Lights’ so there was a possibility of seeing fireworks in the streets at night. Lawrence also highly recommended seeing a Bollywood movie, which are three hours long and mostly in Tamil or Hindi, but do have an intermission. He also told us to bring cotton balls, since late night movies tend to be extremely loud.

First Impressions
After getting our “shore pass” (acts as a passport since we were not allowed to take the real one), Christina and I ventured out into Chennai, the 3rd largest metropolis in India. The ship docked in a warehouse area with no terminal buildings or real amenities available close to the ship. We strolled along the port road (on which a previous SAS girl had died bc she didn’t look left) and soaked in our first sights, sounds (car horns) and smells (urine). Since Chennai lies in an equatorial, tropical region, it was so muggy and hot we were sweating as soon as we stepped off the ship. (This is not to mention that we were fully covered in respect of Hindu/Muslim dress codes.) Along the road, multiple sari-dressed woman used wicker brooms to sweep the street clean of water and debris. Later, I found out that they were part of the Untouchable or Dalit (lowest) caste and were paid monthly in food for clearing the streets. Once we reached the port entrance, we boarded an auto rickshaw headed for the city. For 30 mins, we weaved in and around other motorcycles, rickshaws, trucks and cars. There are clearly no rules to driving! Street lines don’t really seem to matter as two lane roads easily became six vehicles across. Regardless, sari-clad women leisurely perched on back of motorcycles without even holding on!

Tour of Chennai
We first traveled down Kamarajar Road, which runs down the length of Marina beach, to witness the still-present devastation of the 2004 tsunami and the new construction of an elegant white-stone sidewalk. The sandy beach was covered with wooden boats, food stalls and entertainers. Then we passed by Fort St. George, which was built in 1653 by the East India Company, and stands as a prime example of past colonial claims to the area. Among the prominent, white buildings were the Old Government House and Rajaji Hall, which served as a banquet hall for officials back in the day. While driving further into the heart of the city, the Indian Prime Minister passed on our right in a long procession of police and military guards. While we had asked our driver to take us to some market street called “Chadernash,” he took us to some upscale Indian boutique. Unfortunately, we would be dealing with this scam two or three times every rickshaw drive. The owners give rickshaw drivers gasoline or food credits for each customer they bring to the store. Eventually, we learned the best way to avoid it was to threaten not to pay them if they take you anywhere else then where you ask.

Spencer’s Bazaar
After two more scam shops, we finally got him to take us to Spencer’s Bazaar, which turned out to be an in-door mall filled with cheap trinkets, saris and the like. At New Kashmir Arts & Crafts we scored the best “SAS student” deals ($2) on authentic Pashmina shawls! Apparently, every store in town knew we were coming and made up “deals” for the students. While Christina tried on krutas in one store, I waited near the dressing room to offer my best advice. To my bewilderment, the security guard saw me waiting from across the store and brought his stool over for me to sit. From then on, I realized that almost everyone treated us respectfully. Some SAS ladies felt Indian men ignored them and only addressed the men in their group, but for the most part I never really had to open a door for myself. I felt everyone was welcoming, engaging and friendly. At every store we walked into, store owners pressed us with questions about our ship and our studies. A little while later we left Spencer’s to walk the streets and get a feel for the area. Everywhere was crowded with people, car horns and smells of spices and urine. Beggars, who seemed to be everywhere, employed the ubiquitous calls for baksheesh (means charitable giving or political corruption). If you do give, you are supposed to be discrete because it could start a stampede in the area! I also learned never to touch the head of anyone, especially children, since it is considered the “seat of the soul.” Along our walk, we ran into Muthu, who had been driving SAS kids around for 20 years. He offered to be our guide for the day and take us wherever we wanted to go. After some consideration and noticing that his rickshaw was completely pimped out with huge speakers, British stickers on the wheel and a hot pink interior, we obliged. Savanah joined us before we headed to lunch at Hotel Saravana Bhavan, a chain of vegetarian cuisine. (Apparently, “hotel” is synonymous with “restaurant.”)

Lunch and Sites
Following two Peptos, Christina, Savanah and I swabbed our garlic nan with dahl butter fry (lentil stew), paneer tikka masala (fried cheese stew), masal dosa (bread with various chutneys), and a drink of lassi (the unlaced kind)—everything Muthu had recommended. To finish the meal we tasted licorice fennel seeds and sugar cubes. Then Muthu began his tour of Chennai, starting with the US Consult that has a daily 12-hr line. Next he took us to Hayagrivas silk house on G.N. Chetty Road. Muthu felt it was particularly notable, since Queen Elizabeth had shopped there in 1992. Based on the fact that newspaper pictures of her adorned every wall in the shop, it was hard not to know this. Christina was in absolute heaven and claimed, “She could cry because the fabric was so beautiful.” Afterward, Muthu dropped us off at Habitat on Khader Nawaz Khan Road near the Taj Coromandel Hotel, where we were met by two highly enthusiastic shop keepers that were more thrilled to talk to us than show us around the shop. They had the most existite, hand-carved seats, doors and chests. I loved the lanterns and figurines. Mudasir insisted that I sit with him while he had a woman bring out spicy tea (the herb mix was made at home). We chatted about India, the caste system, education system, growing IT businesses and, of course, Semester at Sea. He showed me different types of weaving stitches and how things were made by the rural families they employed. Some small 4 x 3 rungs can take as long as 8 months to make! Of course, he insisted that I didn’t have to buy anything, but I did feel guilty taking up so much of his time. After parting with Mudasir’s email, we headed to St. George’s Cathedral, which built by the Consulate in 1947 and is now the headquarters of the Church of South India. In has a 130 feet spire with a light, airy interior and walls covered in tombs. Having enough spiritual alignment for the day, we decided it was time to break SAS policy. So, Muthu took us to the backroads and let us drive the rickshaw. It was scary as fuck weaving around other bikes, but those things only really go about 30 mph. Muthu was there to make sure we didn’t die. In celebration of our new talent as rickshaw drivers, Muthu took us to snake charmer. We watched as the cobra bobbed to tunes of his wooden pipe. Then the snake charmer opened a bag with a mongoose in it and asked if we would pay him to see them fight. Not feeling like animal cruelty advocates, we declined and headed back to the rickshaw. For the last stop, Muthu and the rest of us went to Mocha for a mango and red bull hookah accompanied with delicious masal chai. Ironically, since India has outlawed all public smoking, we lounged outside amongst “no smoking signs,” while absorbing the Indian music that droned out the nearby traffic.

Welcome Reception
For dinner, I went to the Old Waterfold Hotel to meet a gregarious collection of Indian students from University of Chennai. From a distance we could hear the catchy sounds of Indian music. At the entrance, woman in colorful saris offered flower-bud necklaces, applyed kum-kum (sandalwood paste) to our foreheads and sprinkled rose water over us in blessing. After we mingled with the students for a bit, we gathered for an arrange of Indian snacks, including medu vadai, uttapam (rice pan cakes), idly (rice and black grams steamed cake), cashewnut pakoda (think batter-fried cashews), coriander chutney, coconut chutney, sambar (spicy stew) and gulam jamun (donut hole in sugary syrup). The meal was delicious, but I felt it lacked enough protein. (Something I would realize about most my meals in India.) Although I’m a huge fan of sugary deserts, the gulam jamun was so sweet I could barely finish it. After dinner, we had henna designs applied to our hands. Unfortunately, then I went out to admire the traditional Indian clothing and jewelry they had arranged and couldn’t pick up anything. Thank god I didn’t have to go the bathroom. A little while later, we settled in for Bharata Natyam or a dance art of Tamil Nadu (the southern state we were in). The dancers kept crazy-wide eyes and widly expressive faces the entire time. Although we didn’t understand the Tamil singer, her expressions clearly gave away what the scene was about (ie, an angry lover –or so I thought). During the performance, I meet the most adorable, bubbly freshman named Radha. She was so talkative and told me all about her favorite festivals (Duwali which is coming up) and her favorite chocolate tea that I just “have to try.” At the end of the night, she gave me a huge hug and told me to contact her whenever I was in India again.

Highs and Lows
My “high” was getting to snag a half-empty henna tube for the bus ride home. (I ended up covered in my own creations!) My “low” was realizing Muthu was a total creeper. (Poor Savanah.)