Hawai'i

With indiamama's lingering ear infection and our intense jetlag (19 hour difference behind Japan) our time in Hawai'i was more about recovery than anything else. Kaia's transition was eased tremendouly by the arrival of his grandparents and aunties and uncle. With Thailand and Japan on preceeding it and Southern California to follow, the two weeks in Hawai'i were a bit of blur. Yet, we still had a great time.

Kaia's 3rd Birthday

Today Kaia turned three here in Waikoloa, Hawai'i. It was a very special day filled with family, food, gifts and a nice visit to the beach. While it wasn't like our first birthday celebration, it was a birthday that we wont forget. Like last year, my life has become framed by the progession of this little guy more than my own annual turning of the page. Happy birthday Kaia!

Why I Love this Time: Three years of infectious laughing, the sweetest kisses, and softening of the heart.

Thinking of Friends

We placed calls to Joyce, Sekar and Sethu this evening and they’re not doing very well. The day after we left, Sethu came down with severe kidney stones and had to be hospitalized. On Tuesday night, Joyce’s husband beat her terribly and she ended up getting stitches on her head—why? Because he is an evil prick who is just interested in building his case for a deeper place in hell. When we spoke to her she was sobbing and repeatedly saying how she was going to kill herself—and her children as she didn’t want to leave them to him—it was not a fun conversation. Fortunately, thanks to Skype we were able to call her cell phone at an absurdly low rate and we’ll be calling her regularly until it seems like things improve. Although, I am not optimistic that they will…I’m very worried for her and what the future will bring. She is, as indiamama pointed out, like many women in India, very vulnerable: no identification, everything through her husband, little savings, and powerless in the face of cultural norms around domestic violence and paternalism.

Japan and India

Let’s make this clear: in many ways, Japan and India could not be any more different. I could swear that I could see about the same number of people in a block in Chennai as I did looking out the window riding 100km on a train in Japan! No joke. As well, while you are immediately gripped by the intensity of India—the smells, colors, poverty—the moment you walk out of the airport, here in Japan things are much more muted, bland, and subtle. Here people avert their eyes when you walk in public places and many seem to be lost in thought, oblivious to their surroundings, while in India you might have someone staring at you for minutes. Attention for Kaia? Forget it. Here he’s just another black haired kid, and it isn’t as if Japanese are as outgoing with strangers as Indians.

One result of the move has been Kaia’s constipation, which has resulted in a lack of poop that is now extended to three countries, and four international time zones. Packed into those little bowels are dosai, pad thai, sushi and a few different varieties of indica and japonica rice. The movement watch will continue…

Against, my better judgment, we’ve been staying at indiamama’s parents home since yesterday. Kaia has been enjoying himself and I’ve decided that I will not get in the way of his relationship with his grandparents. The reason that I am so opposed to being here is that whenever we do, indiamama gets sick—really sick. It is like her connection to family and this place is toxic, it literally poisons her. Sure enough, she’s contracted another illness that Kaia and I did not have (high fever) and we’ll be lucky to leave on time. It is so damn predictable—Day One is OK, Day Two she starts to feel worse, and by Day Three she’s spending most of the time on the futon while I lounge around watching Japanese TV and using the internet. This is partly why I have imposed a 2 day limit on these kinds of visits, but as this visit demonstrates, it cannot be avoided. Mind you, this is a woman who NEVER missed a day of work while working in an tuberculosis, HIV/AIDS hospital in India where the sanitary conditions are just north of horrific and worked under tremendous mental and physical stress. Whatever the atomic weight of family is, it must be tremendous.

Why I Love this Time: Tonight’s dinner of sashimi, sushi, and various crustaceans grilled over a charcoal pot on our table.

Onsen

The Japanese know how to relax. What you say? The Japanese?!? Well, for all that is made in the international media about the excess of the Japanese worker (and now Americans work more hours than the Japanese), the flip side is the great beer and sake, amazing food, and the onsen resort. I have been all over the world and I don’t think that anything comes close to a Japanese onsen where you can soak your cares away in the steaming hot spring baths and have the most (for my money) tasty and elaborate meals prepared and brought to your room. We arrived here weary and exhausted from the emotion of leaving Chennai and are leaving refreshed, CLEAN, and reflective. As well, the hot steam and soak helped to push along Kaia’s recovery and any lingering cold that I had seems to be gone.

Why I Love this Time: As he squats in the hot rotenburo (outdoor bath) with a huge smile on his face, “Papa, Kaia loves onsen!”

Tadaima!

For as much as Chennai has become our home, I am reminded that we came to India after living in Japan for over one year. During that time, this country really became familiar to me (as someone told me before leaving the US for Japan, traveling in a place and living in a place are two completely different things) and it feels like home. Of course, indiamama and Kaia and both Japanese citizens, but as is the case with many Nikkei, finding familiarity with Japan was not a given for me. I had been to Japan probably five or six times on trips varying from two weeks to six months, but 2004-2005 was really a different experience for me. Coming with a child, having to negotiate things like bank accounts and health insurance, opening domestic accounts, driving a car—all done in a foreign language and all things that force you to move deeper into the day-to-day that (for me) is the most interesting thing about being in a place different than the culture in which you grew up.


Coming through Japan was a really great idea. Not as a bracket to make the India experience parenthetical (how could the subcontinent EVER be that), but as a reminder of how our notion of home has been permanently expanded. It is kind of odd to think that, for Kaia, there are many more comfortable places that he can call home than the US. He was here for a significant part of his development—here he started to talk and walk—and there are some activities which are certainly embedded in his persona already: taking a Japanese bath and onsen, eating onigiri (Japanese rice balls), and the Tomica (see photo).


We arrived in Narita extremely tired, but feeling good to be in very familiar territory. Kaia was still coughing profusely, but after getting him a All Nippon Airways diecast airplane set, he was in good spirits. As well, the fresh onigiri and bottled teas available in any combi (convenience store) brought a jump to my step. Nothing like food to make me happy. So we activated our Japan Rail Passes and headed off on the Narita Express and Shinkansen to our hot spring resort in Atami. Expectedly, Kaia was in heaven on the trains and it did not seem like long ago that we were headed in the opposite direction, making our way TO Chennai, full of anticipation. Many things have changed since then…

Why I Love this Time: A time for reflection.

Funny Bangkok

I’m sure that for a very good reason just about all of the international flights out of Chennai depart very late in the evening. Coordinating the global itineraries for the multitude of planes criss-crossing the region can’t be easy and there have to be some places where that get the short end of the departure stick. As far as India goes, there is always going to be a much more important airport than Chennai’s Anna International Airport—Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore, heck even probably Hyderbad—so there’s a short-hand analysis of why we were leaving at 12:25am for a 3 hour flight to Bangkok.


In order to squeeze the most out of our flight plan back to the US, we decided to break up the first long stretch of the itinerary to Japan and stop for a full day in Thailand. We’d only been in the airport a few times (I was actually in Thailand for two weeks in 1993), and it seemed like a fun idea to take the cosmopolitan center of South-East Asia (don’t tell Singapore). Yet there were a few things that worried me—one that the flight was so short and we’d be arriving at around 4:00am Chennai time, and that Kaia’s cough and illness was getting progressively worse. The stress of the last week has been really high for all of us and Kaia has not been sleeping or eating properly. As a parent now ‘experienced’ in long distance moves with children, this was/is to be expected. I can remember when we arrived in Japan in 2003 in the dead of winter and Kaia was running a high fever, our national health insurance had yet to kick in, we didn’t have any transportation, and we didn’t have the first clue about finding a good doctor. In retrospect, we rather freaked out and asked this woman whom we didn’t know to drive us to the local clinic because our son was running a high temperature. I’ll never forget this 60-something-ish woman blazing through the backroads of Nishinasuno in her K-Car as if she had someone in the back giving birth! It was quite the riot.


For me, living in Chennai at times has felt intensely isolating. There is so much to immerse yourself in that if becomes easy to lose touch with other forms of living—that everything doesn’t function (or not) like it does (or does not) in India. Being in the Bangkok airport reminded me of this very quickly. The (Indian) Thai Airways clerk in Chennai checked our bags all the way to Japan every though I made it very clear that we wanted them checked to Bangkok. So, after watching Jyothi Kumar’s red suitcase circle the baggage claim carousel for the 40th time, I realized that there was going to have to be that dreaded confrontation with the people at lost baggage to located our three bags. Kaia and indiamama were trying to get some sleep (I couldn’t sleep at all on the plane and never do) and I went to deal with the problem.

But here I was pleasantly surprised. They located our bags within 20 minutes and brought them out to us, no problem. I can remember when we first arrived in Chennai and it took them 30 just to find a stroller that was checked at the gate! We were recommended by a friend to take a Thai Airways ‘limo’ from the airport to the hotel due to the early arrival, all our bags, and a fussy Kaia, and it was a great idea. We were whisked away in a spacious Mercedes-Benz and, with the smooth ride, I could feel that these were not Indian roads where folks cannot drive much more than 60 km/hour lest they lose their front axle in a pothole or run over some moving mammal. Thai drivers are known for their breakneck speeds, and as we neared 100, it actually kind of scared me!


Our hotel, the Pathumwan Princess, was a really great recommendation as well. For $100/night it was a great deal with really nice amenities and a central location that allowed us (or at least me) to take in as much as Bangkok as possible in a full day. Unfortunately, Kaia and indiamama were feeling very ill, so they stayed in and slept from the time we arrived at 8am until the late afternoon. I took a short nap, and then headed out to find some pirated software and eat the streets. On both counts I was successful in finding what I was looking for (man, Thai street food is GOOD!), even managing to take a taxi, tuk-tuk, be asked if I wanted sex 10 times, be befriended by a Thai cameraman getting ready to go to Europe for the World Cup, and watch someone eat some wicked looking fried insects and grubs from a street vendor. When Kaia felt a bit better, he and I ventured back out in the streets and a nearby huge and sprawling shopping center in the spirit of American department store and boutique shopping (Siam Center). Indiamama had a Thai massage scheduled from 700-800pm, so Kaia and I looked for some dinner. I was not quite sure what I was up for and we looked at a number of restaurants. But it was not until I turned a corner and saw the sushi bar that I truly realized what I had been missing—raw fish and lots of it. Akasaka is a very weak (and horribly overpriced) facsimile of even the most marginal Japanese food (but the people are wonderful), and since I’d heard that the Japanese food is as good and cheaper than you can find in Japan, I was all over it. I think that the restaurant staff was a bit taken aback by how much I ordered, thinking that there was no way that Kaia could eat that much!

Anyway, at 9pm we left for the airport and made it through immigration and onto our plane to Japan without incident. Kaia’s cough wasn’t getting any better, however, so we increased the cough medicine dosage and hoped he’d pass out on the five hour plane ride…at least, we thought, that when we get to Japan, it’ll be on familiar ground and we can do whatever we need to do once we get there.

Why I Love this Time: “Papa, we’re in Bangkok! That’s a funny name!”

Leaving on a Jet Plane

It wasn’t easy getting out of Sethu’s Ambassdor, loading the bags onto a luggage cart and making our way through the sliding doors for ticked passengers only. Even more difficult was saying goodbye to the three people to whom be owe much gratitude for making our time in Chennai so memorable: Sethu, Joyce and Sekar. Before arriving at the airport, we visited the Thiruvanmiyur Shiva temple and had a brief dinner at the Guindy Sangeetha where I enjoyed my last authentic South Indian dosai (of paper masala variety) and we all tried to eat, knowing that a painful goodbye was close at hand. Kaia was curiously upbeat and excited (something he hadn’t been for days) as he popped little idlis in his mouth.

At the airport it was all tears and silences. Not much you can say about saying goodbye that doesn’t come off sounding shallow or patronizing. Kaia was really quiet from the time we left the restaurant and made the 5 minute drive to the airport. He knew what was going on. So what to say about how it went? I guess I was a bit surprised that it wasn’t MORE emotional than it was, but I suppose it was because we were all spent from the previous few days. In particular, I’ll never forget indiamama reading Joyce the letter of recommendation that we wrote for her…it was almost like a living eulogy…

So, thank you Joyce, Sekar and Sethu. Joyce, we love you more than you’ll ever let yourself know, Sekar, thank you for all your support, and Sethu, we couldn’t have survived without your consistent rescues—you are like Superman in a Radhamma getaway car!

Why I Love this Time: Forging relationships like these that transcend citizenship, class, caste and gender is not a minor thing. Few have the opportunity to experience such depth of connection and I am thankful that we’ve been able to, particularly Kaia.

Bye-Bye India

“Don’t take my refrigerator! That’s my refrigerator! I don’t like these men…” This what Kaia was crying, or more accurately, what was echoing in our cavernous home, as the last of the things made its way out the door. It has been a very difficult day for Kaia—lots of crying (I don’t think that he’s been right all day), he’s got a cold (which should be a blast on the plane) and his life is in complete disarray. I don’t feel good about it. In fact, I feel down right shitty about it, to go along with the dozen of other painful things that go into leaving a place. I know that the past few months this weblog has been mostly mailing it in, lacking the kind of personal writing and insight of, dare I say, earlier postings. I think it is because I’ve know for some time now that this day would come and, deep down, I didn’t ever want it to. I love India. I love living here. I love Kaia living here. Having to watch him suffer like this is really hard.

Why I Love this Time: I started this little regular section as a foil to when some bloggers will end their posting with what music they’re listening to while writing or what mood folks are in that day. Well, this part kind of challenged me to think for every posting why I loved this time, here in India, with Kaia—being his indiapapa. Admittedly, there were times when I just didn’t feel it to write something that I was ‘loving’, but it was as good device for me to get back into the moment, just a bit. Now that I am posting the last entry from India (the internet connection is the LAST thing to go), I cannot say that I am loving this time. All that consumes me/us is sadness and loss. Sure I know that there are brighter days ahead, but right now I’ll just need to wallow in this for a bit more. We’re headed off to the temple for one last blessing with Sethu, Joyce and Sekar…until post-India, this is indiapapa saying good night and farewell. Thanks to all those who came along for the ride.

Here Come the Movers

Well, the day has finally come—moving day. This morning around 9:30am, after a morning visit to the sleeping Vishnu temple, the men from Multi-Movers arrived at our place and furiously dove into the wrapping and packing process. Tape was ripping, cardboard flying and emotions running high as our place was quickly transformed from a home to a storage facility. Watching the men pack up our things was quite difficult and it was particular hard to watch Joyce watch them box up Kaia’s stroller—something that they shared many hours together doing. We were all in tears at the movers methodically wrapped the bubble wrap and cardboard around the ‘trolley’, it was really hard to watch.

At around 12:30pm, Sethu and his family arrived with an amazing Keralan lunch—coconut fish curry, chicken, pappads, parathas, rice…it was heavenly! As well, Jasmine and her family also came by and it was really nice to have our friends her to share lunch together. While there was no place to formally sit, we converted the bedroom into a dining space and it couldn’t have been more comfortable. Kaia will miss Sethu’s children, Aravind (13) and Abilash (9), very much…


By 5:00pm, our landlord, Mr. Jayachandran came by to finalize the lease and about 30 minutes later, Muthatha and Valli (from Kids Central, she’s Muthatha’s cousin) came by to say goodbye. It has been a very sad day, having to say goodbye to so many close friends, but it seems like Kaia is doing a bit better than the last few days. I don’t know what tomorrow will be like…

Why I Love this Time: I don’t think I will really know for some time…

Overnight Joycee

For the past three nights, Joyce has been staying the night at our place because her children are staying at her mother’s place and her husband is out of station, on a long distance driving assignment. It has been really nice to have her here around the clock and Kaia has been full of joy. For her, not having to deal with the commute time and the heat of her inland home makes it a positive as well. I know that I have said it a number of times before, but we are really going to miss her and I don’t know what Kaia is going to do without her. For the past week he has been asking where she is when she’s out or not around and earlier this week, whenever he’d hear the building’s elevator he’d run to the door, open it, and wait for her to come up. Of course, most of the time it wasn’t her, but it was clear that he knew that she/we would be leaving each other soon. It just really breaks my heart to see it all coming down to the end.

Kaia has actually really been struggling with the move for the past week. Earlier, when we would ask him if he was excited about moving back to the US, he would give and emphatic, “YES!”, but now this is certainly not the case. Now he responds with a clear, “I want to stay here. This is my home. I don’t want to go to the US. I want to stay in India.” Yesterday, when a painter came to do measurements for a job he’ll do once we vacate the apartment, Kaia got really upset when the painter came into my office. He said, “Don’t go into papa’s office! This is Kaia’s house, you should go away! Don’t take away Kaia’s things, this is Kaia’s house!” I don’t know how the next two days are going to be, but I suspect a lot of tears are going to be shed and heavy hearts taken away…

Why I Love this Time: The beginning of a time to reflect upon how this experience has transformed all of us, indiapapa, kaia and indiamama

Mr. Kaia's Neighborhood

Kaia and I are really going to miss our neighborhood and its characters. From the corner auto stand at the intersection of 4^th Seward and Balakrishnan roads to the scowling sewing-wallah down the street to Shyam the ironing man, we’ll really miss seeing them on a daily basis. I suppose that I should have done a posting on Kaia’s neighborhood long ago, introducing the different people and their backstories, but alas the time for such dreams never came to pass. It is interesting how, when you get established in a place, that you begin to lose the curiosity and enthusiasm for the everyday. In many respects, I started indiapapa to try to shed light on the mundane practices within fatherhood, but in retrospect I realize that I could have done a much better job had I not gotten caught up in the so-called dramas that infect our lives. But anyway, I digress…

Even though he is nearly three, Kaia still needs to be in motion in order to take his afternoon nap. If it is scorching hot (which lately, it has been—highs in the mid 100s!), then well strap him in the car seat and take an air conditioned ride through the neighborhood, but if the weather is OK, it’s the stroller (or ‘trolley’ as folks call it here) for a few trips around the block—or to the auto stand and back again. Depending on how tired he is, you might end up going 4 or 5 times up and back, which can be not only frustrating, but tiring in the mid-day sun, regardless of if its breaking the century mark or not.

I really love how service vendors will set up their operations on the sidewalk street shoulder—no enforced zoning here. I would imagine that those who duplicate services (like ironing) have an agreement about who services which area, and it is really remarkable how these ironing guys remember the cost for each client. With dozens of garments, each a slightly different price, they must really have an air-tight memory. One site that I’ll never forget is how Shyam’s wife worked right up until she delivered her son, carrying large bags of neatly folded and ironed clothes on her head throughout the neighborhood with a full belly of boy. Sometimes the power would go out in our building and she would actually walk four flights of stairs to get to our place! Simply amazing how hard some people work in this country (and equally as remarkable how lazy others can be) and what they are physically capable of.

Just last month they finished the TVS guest house next door to our building. Since we moved in April 2005, they had been renovating it and with a crew of nearly 20 men and women. Kaia and I would often go down and watch them pounding and chiseling flagstones for the walkway and I would just be in awe of how much weight people could carry on their heads. Someone once remarked to me that nearly all of India has been built on the heads of (mostly) women with sturdy necks and even stronger backs. I wonder what Kaia thinks when he sees so many people working so hard and most of the time his papa is pecking away at a computer keyboard, getting fatter by the hour. Hopefully, when we get back to the US, I’ll have a chance to get myself back in the physical groove and move my body like it is meant to be used. I don’t know that I’ll be carrying things on my head, but one can really learn a lot from just watching what’s right outside your door. It just so happens that, in this country, that can be a rather amazing thing to behold.

Why I Love this Time: Our last peanuts from the peanut man…

FabIndia

I don’t think that I could wrap up this weblog without some entry on FabIndia. Why, you ask? Well, it’s probably because we’ve spent thousands of dollars there over the past year and ½ on clothing, home furnishings, fabric, you name it. Just speaking for me, of my wardrobe here, probably 90% of it is from Fab. If you factor in all of my clothes (here and in the US), it’ll probably work out to 75% still! In the same way that I became a Uniqlo bitch in Japan, so could be said for our addiction to Fab here in India. When things are $5-10 a pop it is so easy to buy without thinking, even when the aggregate of the various things almost always exceeds $100. The garments are really nice, all hand-made and with natural fibers and just perfect for the Chennai heat and humidity. Even Kaia has a number of kurtas from Fab and he knows the various Fab franchises very well…I don’t think that we’ll need to buy clothes for quite a while in the US!

Why I Love this Time: This strip in Besant Nagar where the new FabIndia is located has become a very regular place for us. The Nilgiris market, Murugan Idli Shop, the Dollar Store, Giorgio restaurant, just to name a few…I’ll miss cruising the street together, dodging poop, drunks, and street vendors with Kaia…

Samudra Dugar Staff

A big part of our life here has been the wonderful staff of our Samudra Dugar apartment building. They are all very kind people and all are a big part of Kaia’s world. From the watchmen, Shankar (bottom left) and the ‘old man’ from Nepal (at left, center), to Geehta (right) the ‘sweeping lady’, to brothers Swami and John (at left, left and right) who take care of building maintenance, they have all been fun people to see each day. Kaia knows them all so well now that I’m sure that he will also ask about them once we leave. Back in my pre-departure clarity, I had wanted to do short interviews and profiles of each of them for the weblog, but like many small projects, other things quickly wash over them. We wish them all the best.

Why I Love this Time: I wonder if the smell of industrial strength cleaner will always trigger memories of India for Kaia, I know that it will for me!