Kanchipuram

Yesterday everyone (except Indiapapa) went to visit the highly regarded temple town called Kanchipuram. Indiapapa was able to do some work on the old dissertation and Kaia was able to enjoy one of his great pleasures in India—temples. It is really quite funny and remarkable how he has taken to Hinduism, particularly the different places of worship—knowing them by name (just today he told me that a temple that we go by everyday is a Kali temple, which I did not know) and being able to anticipate them coming as be drive on by. Of course, here in India there are temples literally just around every corner and in all sizes. I would really be interested to know how certain sites are deemed holy enough for a temple—not the big ones, but the small kinds like you see sandwiched in between peoples homes and in seemingly odd places, like the on the beach that is just up from our home. Is there some bureaucratic arm that sanctions these?

Anyway, as it turns out, it was a good thing (at least for me) that I didn’t go. After they ate lunch, Sekar locked the key in the car and that set in motion a chain of events that involved finding the spare set of keys here in Madras, driving them out to Kanchipuram (2 hours away) and then coming back. Kaia and his mama and ojiichan took a taxi back, so they were able to get back in time, but poor Sekar didn’t get back here until nearly 8pm. To make matters worse for him, he shattered the rear window when he was trying to pry it open to get access to the inside. Poor guy felt so bad about the whole incident. I was just so shocked that the remedy went as smoothly as it did! Where’s AAA when you need them?

Why I Love this Time: How words will sometimes take on a “d” at the end—like “paperd” or “goned”.

Ojiichan

Yesterday afternoon Kaia’s ojiichan (grandfather) arrive from Japan. He’ll be staying with us for about 10 days and I’m looking forward to Kaia getting a bit more Japanese language stimulation. Of course, ojiichan was very popular upon his arrival as it was well known that he would be bringing a large collection of recently ordered Japanese books, Japanese snacks and other goodies that you can only find in Nihon. It was actually quite funny (and interesting) to watch Kaia look through his new Japanese books and refuse that anyone read them to him, except for his mama. You see, English books are ‘papa’s books’ and Japanese books are ‘mama’s’. Being in India has meant that we have been able to amass quite a few English titles at very low prices (if not lacking in binding quality), but nothing in Japanese. So, not since last summer, when we were in Japan for a few weeks, has he been able to get new and more age appropriate books. Anyway, now ojiichan is here and already working with Kaia on his kana recognition. Ganbatte little bear!

Why I Love this Time: For the first time today he urinated standing up—in typical Indian fashion, on the side of the road. It was very funny because all he would say is “like a man” which you might think meant that he associated peeing standing up with being grown up, but is actually because you tend to see dozens of folks within any given ½ mile stretch doing their business on a wall, in a ditch or just out in the open. So, “like a man” really means being like the folks (from all classes) he sees when we’re walking or driving around!

Back to School

Well, the holiday break is officially over and it is back to Kids Central for Kaia and work for his mama. We had a great week together and Kaia will be starting 5 day a week pre-school that goes from 930am-12 noon. His first day went well today without any tears (although he was a bit clingy in the beginning) and I think that he will really develop a lot over the next three months during his time in school here. Here is a photo of him, Joyce and Sekar after doing the typical ‘first day of school’ puja blessing.

Why I Love this Time: The love Kaia has for Joyce and Sekar.

New Years

I did not expect that New Years would be quite the celebration that it is here. Having seen how folks celebrate Diwali and other important holidays, I had thought that it would be something of that nature—loud and observed, but not over the top. For this reason, we were in for a bit of a surprise when all of the revelry started around 9pm. In the area where we live, all of the apartment buildings have large rooftop areas that can be used for different purposes—storing water tanks, hanging laundry, and in this case, holding huge parties with live bands. Just in our neighborhood there were, at least, three different parties happening, each with their own (in typical Indian style) treble infused, ear shattering sound-system. In our building, the Association Director had organized a party of his own with friends and family and they started off around 7:30 pm. We were invited to join, but since we already had an invitation to attend another party, were only able to drop by for a short time. By the time we made it up there the band was already in full swing and they had a Rajnikanth impersonator dancing and doing his act. It was quite entertaining. What was perhaps the most remarkable to me, however, is how in a 6 piece band, they managed to have 4 percussionists! You may not be able to tell from the photo, but they had a four different guys playing the electronic drums, a standard Western drum set, the congos, and the tabla. I addition to them, there was a keyboard player and a vocalist. Amazing. I guess in this country, you can never have enough percussion! After this party, we made our way across the crowded metropolis and to our friends’ guest house. There they also had a live performance by a more traditional singing duo. As the prior post explained, Kaia goes into a hypnotic trance when listening to traditional Indian music and this case was no different. He was captivated until midnight, upon which we moved outside to watch the fireworks and ring in the new year. The ride back home was filled with inebriated young men waving and cavorting around (not a woman to be seen) the streets. More than once a group stopped our car to wave and yell. Even Sekar couldn’t understand what they were saying to us because they were too wasted! In all a very memorable New Years celebration. Here is hoping that 2006 holds even better things.

Why I Love this time: Improving on his potty training skills to be “like papa”.

Classical Dancing

Kaia has discovered a new pleasure: classical Indian dance. Every year in Chennai at around this time, the city comes alive with hundreds of dance and music performances in what is collectively known as the “Madras Music Season”. There is a place very close to our home that is one of the centers for classical Indian performing arts—the Kalakshetra Foundation—and from December 24^th until January 4^th they have daily performances and educational events by artists from all over India. From the theatrics of Keralan Kathakali to the hypnotic whoomps and twangs of Hindistani music to the sensual grace of Carnatic dancing, there is no reason to be surprised that little Kaia is mesmerized by the performances. Kalakshetra has this wonderful performance theatre that seats about 500 and, for two hours, you are transported to another place. We were a bit worried when we attended our first performance that he might force us to leave early, but he didn’t even move for the entire two hours, except to clap at the appropriate times. It was really funny. When we asked him asked him after that show if he’d like to come back, there was a resounding “Yes! See more dancing!” For this reason, we’ve gone the last three nights and expect to go until the 4^th at least. Better than Bob the Builder any day of the week.

Why I Love this Time: Question: Kaia, what is your favorite musical instrument? Answer: Tabla, papa.

Mama on Holiday

Kaia’s mama has finally been able to take some time off of work and we’ve enjoyed the last week together, for the first time really since we moved her a year ago, as a family. Kaia has been very happy and indiapapa has actually been able to do some work on that ‘other’ little dissertation project that he cannot seem to shake. Life has been somewhat complicated due to a prolonged bout with minor food poisoning, but this I suppose is par for the course. Anyway, we've gone to the zoo, down the coast, played at home, visited the temple and overall just enjoyed the time together.

Why I Love this Time: Family time.

Christmas Day

Well, Kaia was happy to learn that Santa also makes trips to India. Thanks to a number of unopened gifts from Kaia’s Grandme and a few of our own, the little guy got to really enjoy the pleasure of gift opening. He received a number of new pj sets and a few new DVDs, but of course, the highlight was a new puzzle set. He has moved up to the 50 piece puzzles and I still cannot understand how he is able to do them so easily….

Still, it doesn’t feel like “Christmas” to me, and I suppose that my wife will feel the same way in a week during o-shogatsu. There are just some things that you have to have in order to truly feel it to be a full experience. As far as Kaia goes, he seems to be enjoying himself regardless. His Christmas memories are just being developed, so many he’ll come to associate it with spindly trees and humidity. Who knows.

Why I Love this Time: Driving home from dinner last night we were blocked for some time by a large procession. Based on my calendar reference, and with all of the lights and music, I assumed that it was a some folks celebrating a Christmas mass. However, it was not. It was a group of pilgrims who were preparing for a trip to Kerala to take their coconuts for blessings—Ayyappan is the name of the God that they are honoring and it is a widespread activity with different groups going at different times. This just highlights the range of diversity that you see in this place…

Christmas Eve

But the sheer force of habit I was compelled to motivate us to partake in some kind of ‘special’ Christmas Eve dinner. Of course, for my Japanese wife this day (and the next for that matter) has little personal significance with deep lifetime memories of giddy anticipation, so it was on me to mark the occasion. Through his school, Kaia has been introduced to Santa and knows that presents go under the tree, so I thought that it would be best to go to the 5 star hotel—The Le Meridien, which is incidentally owned by out next-door neighbors and has a restaurant called “Kaya”--that boasted the largest Christmas tree in the city with a huge Santa in his sleigh made entirely of milk chocolate. They were also serving a special dinner with “imported turkey” and other foodstuffs that, I guess, folks associate with this holiday—like honey glazed ham and lamb shanks. It sounded like a descent option, so we set off for a late holiday dinner at around 7:30 pm (we usually eat at 6:30).

As it turned out, the hotel offered everything that they said they were. The large, open lobby area was decked out to the nine in Christmas cheer and a lean, dark skinned Santa roamed the ground, handing out chocolates to just about everyone. A group of children sang carols to piano accompaniment and it did have a seasonal feel. Kaia was really enjoying himself, that is, until we walked into the restaurant.

We had actually dined there once before—it’s a pretty extensive buffet with all kinds of foods, ranging from Chinese to Western to Indian. This evening, of course, they were also serving carved turkey and ham, so the choices were looking good. The problem for Kaia stemmed from the fact that they had dimmed the lights (‘candlelight dinner’) and placed party hats, masks and noise makers on each place setting—something that you might expect more for a New Year’s dinner. You see, Kaia just HATES masks. They freak him out. It likely stems from an incident at the local amusement park, where they employ dwarfs to dress up as clowns and walk around, much in the way that you see Disney characters walking the grounds at Disneyland. I don’t know if it was because these costumed little people were near to eye level of Kaia, but when one skipped up to greet him, he just freaked out in a way that I had never seen, as he attempted to scurry to the top of my head like a terrified cat. Perhaps this incident scarred him to the point where he cannot bear to see anyone in such costume (coulrophobia?), but there have been a few other incidents that have either extended or reinforced his dislike.

So, from the moment that he saw the masks and various people wearing them, any hopes of a nice, peaceful family dinner were dashed. During these times, it becomes a food shoveling contest where I eat as fast as I can, while my wife tends to him, and then once I am done, I take over and shuttle him off to a different place. I hardly had a chance to enjoy the odd turkey loaf or the marbled (read—layered in fat) ham. Oh well, this was it was probably a more memorable dinner. Anyway, poor little guy was so scared that we couldn’t even eat afterward in the lobby.

Why I Love this Time: Frog’s vacation in Japan.

Goodbye Great-Grandpa

Nearly two weeks ago, Kaia’s great-grandfather passed away. Since that time I have been struggling with how to articulate my feelings about his demise. He had been very ill for over a year, more than once coming to the edge of death only to be pulled back by a strong will to live—and modern technology. Even before his body had started its rapid decline, from nearly a decade ago his once sharp mind had been eroding as well. By the time he passed away on December 10^th, he was a physical and mental shell of the man I have such fond memories of as a boy. I was mentally prepared for his death and, admittedly, at times wished that it would come sooner in the hope that it would relieve some of the turmoil that my mom and grandmother felt watching him teeter between life and death cradled tenuously by the crutch of life supporting machines. Yet now I am feeling overwhelmed by emotions that I did not expect to have to wrestle, and it is making it nearly impossible to write. I suppose that it is a combination of things—the holidays, the return home of Kaia’s grandme, a writing rut, Kaia’s mama’s continued overwhelming work schedule—but there is this creeping malaise and longing for familiar comforts that is dragging me down making it very difficult to string together the kind of words that I want to honor my grandfather’s life. From the remembrance of the unconditional love that he gave to me, I feel these pangs of guilt that Kaia is so far away from his grandparents and family at this time. I know that it is cliché and the roots of my emotions are embedded in cultural rituals that precipitate such timely feelings, but there is no denying it.

My parents made the conscious decision to raise me and my sisters in an area that was close to family—and, specifically, our grandparents. From an early age—about the same age as Kaia—I was essentially living with my grandparents while my mom worked and finished her degree and my dad built his dental practice. While my grandma slipped me money to call her “mommy” at the supermarket and introduced me to the entertainment that is daytime television, my grandpa was already teaching me the intricacies of one of his undying passions—baseball.

Next to the clear memories of the unconditional love he showed me—from quitting smoking at my birth to being patient with my fishing misadventures--baseball is the lasting gift that I will carry with me from our life together. In some ways it is the stories that he shared with me from his own playing days as a star centerfielder, but more so it is the memories of our physical time together—sharing the ritual of oiling a baseball glove, teaching me how to keep score, tossing the ball to each other in the front lawn—that I carry with me and that I will someday share with Kaia. With my dad being a star football player in his own right, my upbringing very much revolved around sports, and my grandpa was a big part of this. I suppose that this is one reason that I still hold onto my love for baseball and the simplicities of the game. Baseball is a constant reminder of my youth and the times I shared with my father and grandfather. I suppose that countless other men share similar feelings about the game and their elders, yet this does nothing to diminish the power of these emotions and experiences.

I don’t know if Kaia will go on to participate in athletics or enjoy sports at all—and if not, that is just fine. But there will be sometime in his life when we sit down and he can look at old photos of his great-grandfather, not the ones where they are together and great-grandpa is a weak old man, but the shots of him as the lone, vigorous Japanese American on the pre-war all-star baseball team who rapped out doubles with the best of them. Or perhaps we will listen to the taped interviews I conducted with him later on in his life where we discuss the details of the old Sacramento leagues where only Asians played ball.

My grandfather was a big part of my life and I miss him. In fact, I have missed the man who taught me how to grip a baseball for many years. Yet now I take some comfort in knowing that, out there, somewhere, he’s back on the diamond, manning centerfield and running down those balls hit into the gaps. And I’ll keep my glove well groomed with neat’s foot oil, waiting for the day when I can pass along some of the gifts he taught me to his great-grandson. Thank you for sharing your life and passions with me grandpa. May you always find the sweet part of the bat. I love you.

Missing Mama

In writing this weblog it should be fairly self-evident that I avoid talking about my wife, otherwise known as Kaia’s mama. When I started writing this, I wanted it to be entirely about Kaia and my relationship and life in India from the perspective of being his papa. Yet, it would be disingenuous to suggest that she’s not a significant part of OUR experience here and there are times when her presence—or in this case—absence makes a big difference. The last few weeks have been one of those times.

For those of you who do not know about our situation here, Kaia’s mom is the Project Director of a HIV/AIDS capacity building project that is being administered through a government hospital in Chennai. This hospital is, in fact, a tuberculosis sanatorium, but it is the largest care center in all India for the care and treatment of people have contracted the AIDS virus. Its high profile led to it being profiled in the slick, globally distributed “A Closer Walk” documentary. Hundreds of patients are seen each day, many with the same tragic stories that are repeated across the world—positive orphans whose parents have already succumbed to the virus, stigmatized women without support nor income, families and communities decimated—it is not the easiest place to go to work everyday.

As one might expect Kaia’s mom is consistently challenged on multiple fronts—emotionally and spiritually, for obvious reasons, and physically by the tremendous stress and demands of her position as the leader of this ever-growing project. From the first day that we arrived here it has been a Level 5 hurricane that just hasn’t stopped. Her capabilities to handle it all have forged an entirely new level of respect that I have for her. I don’t think that I could do what she’s doing, and certainly not as well.

But more than the daily challenges that she has experienced through work, is how the demands of her job have taken her away from the thing she cares about more than anything—her son. A typical day has her leaving the house at 7:30 and coming back around the same time in the evening. She has yet take a holiday since she started here because of the persistent demands and sometimes, but it is when she has to work on a Saturday, that things really get out of whack. You see, after some rocky adjustment, Kaia and I have tuned out internal clocks to times when mama is here and gone. When she’s away, he is fine and happy to play and be with me, Joyce and/or Sekar. Around 7:00pm, he expects that she’ll come soon and he’s happy to spend time with her when she does. Of course, initially he will often demand her full attention (I cannot talk with her) and if he doesn’t get it, many tears will flow. But when she’s not here on Saturday, it sets this terrible disruptive pattern into motion. He needs at least the weekends with her to have enough ‘mama time’ and when there is only Sunday it is insufficient and carries over into the next week. The problem as well is that she is exhausted by Sunday and cannot provide him with the full, active attention that he wants and needs. What results is a frustrated Kaia, an even more exhausted mama, and a papa in-between who can only look forward with great anticipation for when this current situation will change. The last few weekends, Saturday has been taken up and this is what we’ve been contending with.

One of the things that Kaia and mama will do together is bath time. Here's a recent photo of that…I am looking forward to the time when she has more energy to be fully present during this and other time with him. I know that this time is coming soon.

Why I Love this Time: His Indian ‘bullet train’.

Winking Statues

This morning, we were met by a knock at the door from the building’s sweeping lady Geetha (pictured) informing Joyce that the nearby temple was the site of a miraculous event. According to Geetha, it seems that the statue representing the main god of the temple was found this morning to be winking—or one eye had closed. Joyce, being a very devout Hindu (currently she is in the midst of a month long fasting period where she must adhere to strict codes of conduct), immediately deemed this an encounter with the divine. Perhaps later this afternoon we’ll all talk a walk and check it out.

Why I Love this Time: Glow in the dark dinosaur pjs.

Last Day as a Toddler

Today was the last day of the term at Kids Central for the holiday break. It was actually a Christmas party and there were all sorts of animals and fun things going on—not to mention a visit from Santa, bearing chocolates. This means that Kaia will be off until January 2, at which time he will start pre-school: 5 days a week, 2.5 hours a day. It is a rather big step up for him and for me, as he wont be around nearly as much and he’ll be interacting with children his own age and older on a more frequent basis. In the toddler school, he was going 3 days a week, for an hour at a time, so this is a big change for him. Fortunately, he still loves Kids Central and the adjustment shouldn’t be quite like it was before. Of course, I have rather mixed emotions about him transitioning to more school—on one hand I’ll be able to have more time (at least this is what I am hoping) to work on my writing but on the other, it marks yet another milestone that my emotional preparedness seems to lag behind on. Over the last few months my work has become quite busy and I have leaned on Joyce and Sekar to spend more time with him during the day. While it has allowed me to move forward with important tasks, because I am working from home, there is the constant background noise of laughing, fussing and playing that never allows me to get too lost in my own world. Usually this is a good thing, but sometimes it really grates on me and I find myself in a frustrated funk where I cannot seem to get any traction in my work. Perhaps, after he starts pre-school, I will be able to do this, but until that time, I guess I will just need to continue my practice with patience.

Why I Love this Time: “It’s five o’clock papa, time for TV”.

We Miss Grandme

Today Kaia’s grandmother returned home and we all miss her. It was a great time for all of us and Kaia really moved forward with his development, particularly verbally. We did quite a few things, but most of all it was a chance for Kaia’s grandmother to experience his life here in Chennai. Outside of a day trip to Mahabalipuram, the entire two weeks was spent here—taking Kaia to and from Kids Central, going swimming at the Club, meeting all of his friends, visiting his favorite restaurants, and more. There were many photos taken, and rather than write up each one (I’m behind enough as it is with this blog) I’ll just put them up for your viewing pleasure.



With Sekar at Amethyst.












Fisherman's Cove












Drinking Tender Coconut at Dakshina Chitra












Mahabalipuram










Kids Central










Milkshakes at Cedar's









Jasmine Aunty's Church (and husband, the pastor)

Tree

Last year in Japan we decided not to get an XMAS tree, largely because we were spending the holidays in the US and leaving to India soon thereafter. The year before, Kaia’s first XMAS, we were transitioning to Japan so there was neither a tree at that time. So what better place to introduce him to the annual ritual than here in India? Of course, there would be no going down to the corner tree lot, but finding a tree was not as difficult as I had imagined.

First we went to a shop that dealt in just XMAS items—decorations, artificial trees (fiber optic trees included), lights, etc—and judging by the prices ($10 for small string of lights) they are catering for the expat community. But I wanted a real tree, so Kaia selected a few ornaments (Styrofoam grapes and strawberries!) and we were off. In order to get a real tree, we had to go to the “agri-horti” grounds, which is basically a large commercial nursery. The plants here are well cared for and we were led to a small patch of ‘trees’ potted in one gallon plastic jug. Presumably, this is where the expats looking for ‘real’ trees are led to choose. After sifting through a number of leggy and malnourished trees that looked like something that the Grinch put a curse on, I was able to find one that looked like it would hold the weight of a few dozen ornaments. There would be no brilliant star on the top—alas, there was no peak point at all on the tree—but it looked hardy enough to last three weeks. While it was hardly a pyramid-shaped fir or powdered spruce, the tree would work. So I paid the $12 (quite high, no?) and they repotted it into a terracotta pot (how many XMAS trees have this as their temporary home?!?) and we were off.

A few weeks prior we had found a number of really nice ornaments at a local shop, so we already had plenty of things to adorn the tree with. Finally finding a purpose for the (typically) odd gift from my mother-in-law last XMAS, we placed a large cloth depicting the typical Santa scene as a skirt around the tree. From there, Kaia and his Grandme began to decorate. It is very special and memorable that Kaia’s first tree was here in India and that he was able to decorate it with his grandmother. No thanks to my craptastic camera (which I have wished I could hurl against the wall due to its shortcomings), I was still able to take a few photos that will be a wonderful keepsake.

Why I Love this Time: The fast and furious pace of vocabulary retention.

Family

It has been a little longer than normal in-between posts and this is largely due to the recent arrival of Kaia’s grandmother, affectionately known as “Grandme”. She arrived late Sunday night, after nearly 48 hours in transit between her home in California and the Chennai airport. Unfortunately, her luggage decided to take a slower path and did not arrive until Tuesday night with the ordeal compounded by the typical problems one finds in this country when you are assured that there’s “no problem”. Of course, this only means that there is—and it is time to practice patience and tolerance. Sometimes this is not as successful as indiapapa would like it to be…

Anyway, getting back to Grandme’s time here, Kaia is very happy to have her (see photo). Our home has always had people coming and going, so he’s come to really enjoy having guests—especially when they bring so many presents! Since last summer, the puzzle fiend has been waiting for a “tractor puzzle” that he asked his Grandme to bring from the US and it was with great excitement that it emerged from her suitcase after 2 days of extra wait. Most of the puzzles that are to be bought here are lacking in something—maybe the pieces don’t interlock properly, or the layers of paper peel right off—but other than wooden puzzles, it is hard to find good jigsaws.

As I have written about in other posts, having Kaia’s grandmother here is a reminder about how helpful it is to have family around. Since we’ve been living away from the US for the past two years, the kind of support that many of our friends take for granted (like dropping kids off so that you can have a night out) just hasn’t been possible for us. I also see the vast network of family support that many have in this country and it makes me a bit jealous. Of course, no one is stopping me from moving back to Orange County to be close to my extended family—Southern California itself does a fine job of that—but it would be so great if Kaia’s Grandme could take him to school more often than once or twice. Great for me, great for him. And I’m sure great for Grandme.

Why I Love this Time: Closing the bedroom door and telling me to go away so that he can poop in private.

Palace

Yesterday was the community event at Kids Central where all of the children involved in the various programs at the school come together, with their parents, to enjoy each other’s company for a few hours. Usually they hold these events on the school grounds, but this time, for the first time, it was held at Chettinad Palace, a rather remarkable ‘house’ on the banks of the Adyar river. I had never been in a place quite like this in Chennai—and many of the folks who grew up in Chennai said the same thing. Kids Central was invited to hold their event there by the owner of the facility, who happens to have a 3 year old son and was sympathetic to how much children would love the large open spaces of the Palace ‘lawn’, not to mention the fountains and swimming pool. In all about 200 people attended the event, and there must have been 80-90 kids from ages one to five running around the grounds. I assume that they have good groundskeepers.

Kaia really enjoyed himself there, but it was the live music that seemed to get most of his attention. There were two musicians, one playing the flute and the other the tabla (see photo) and he was quite transfixed on their music. Even though the volume was beyond loud (as it always seems to be here), he would just stand in front of the stage and take it all in. He seemed to be the only child interested in what was going on up there.

It was a really nice event that resembled the weddings and birthday parties that I have been to: dosai bar, good food and lots of folks enjoying themselves. It will be hard for the folks at Kids Central to top their next community event.

Why I Love this Time: “rooook papa, rooook!”

Farm

The weather as of late has been spectacular: daytime temperatures in the high 70s, cool breezes coming off the Bay of Bengal for most of the day, and a ‘clean’ feeling from the last few weeks of rain. While I can’t seem to get a straight answer if the monsoon season is finished or not—some say it is over, others say there is another 3-4 weeks—there is little doubt that the most blazing of temperatures are behind us and the next few months are to be enjoyed. Of course, when it is so hot, you cannot rationally play outside for much time, and this has been a real negative about being here with Kaia. Compared to the United States, there are very few parks and open spaces that are kid and family friendly, so with super heat and little places to play outside, it has meant more time inside than I would have liked. For those of you who know indiapapa well, you know that I have long been an advocate for experiential/outdoor learning for children and there is a touch of irony that I have been unable to pursue this since coming to India with my own child. For this reason, it should be no surprise that I was looking forward with great anticipation to yesterday’s Kids Central field trip to a nearby farm. As well, Kaia was beside himself looking forward to seeing the ‘tractor and plow…we were ready for some fun out of doors.

The ride from Kids Central to the farm was a bit longer than I had expected, about 45 minutes down the Old Mahalibalipuram road, a road that floods terribly whenever it rains. Even though it has been close to a week since the last heavy rains, there are still huge pools of water on the road and vacant lots have been turned into small ponds. Of course, 1 week old standing water, next to a busy road, has turned the liquid that shade of blue-black that comes when you mix all the watercolors together. Or in this case, oil, trash, mud and animal waste. It is not a pretty sight. Throw on top of that the issue of mosquito breeding and infectious disease and you have a public health nightmare just about every time it rains. Anyway, we eventually made it down to the farm and Kaia immediately zeroed in on finding that tractor (see photo).

I was pleasantly surprised when we got there to learn that this farm is a 100% organic farm, not using any synthetic fertilizers or chemicals in the cultivation of their radishes, okra, turnips and other tree crops—including mango and guava. Again, indiapapa has a long history with farming organically, so this was a nice treat to visit a local farm and see what they’re up to. The farm was about 11 acres in size with close to half in cultivation. Many of the trees were still immature and a few years from meeting their full production capacity, and like with many organic farms, the weeds were numerous, but being managed nevertheless. Rain catchments were being used, as well as drip irrigation and some other water conservation techniques. As for animals, there was one cow, but the other farm staples that many come to expect in the farm landscape narrative—pigs, chickens, horses, etc—we nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, for Kaia, neither was any heavy machinery. This meant, of course, no tractor (see 'tractor's gone' photo).

The farm ended up being a lot further from Kids Central than many expected and, perhaps, the amenities of the farm left some parents disappointed. There were about 25 children and their parents and I noticed about 8-10 parents just standing around with their kids, unwilling to engage the situation either because they might get muddy or the farm was falling short of their expectations. We were told that we could roam around the farm fields and let the children play—and they WILL figure it out—so Kaia and I spent most of the time catching the numerous frogs and grasshoppers under the trees. I showed some of the frogs that we had caught to some of the other children and I heard a parent comment “well I guess there ARE some animals at this farm”. All I could think was that here was another urbanite void of imagination and creativity in the outdoors and expecting to be entertained. It was at that point that I realized how much I missed having my own (large) garden and being able to take Kaia out into it. Living here in India has had its benefits, but we are losing out on this time to learn and grow together in living soil. I’ve taught enough kids to see what happens when you take them outside and let them get dirty in the Earth. I am ready to get back and create a place where Kaia can do the same.

While there wasn’t any tractor, Kaia and I had a great time. In addition to the frogs and grasshoppers, Kaia got to meet another one of his long-time obsessions (the school bus, see photo) and pull out some immature radishes (photo). It was so great for him to get muddy and for me to not be on high alert for stray dogs, trash or searing heat. As a bonus, on the 45 minute ride home, there were an inordinately high number of diggers and bulldozers in action along the side of the road. Kaia was in heaven.

Later in the day, I received a phone call from Kaia’s teacher at Kids Central. She was calling, she said, to apologize for the field trip and how long of a drive it was, and how the farm was not so exciting and rather muddy. She said that she was calling all of the parents to apologize because this was the first time they had gone there and they didn’t know about some of these things. Of course, I told her how silly such an apology was and that we had a GREAT time. She was kind of taken aback, but very thankful saying that we were ‘too sweet’. After hanging up with her, all I could think was that a number of parents had complained to them about the fieldtrip and, judging from the 8-10 who were unwilling to participate at the farm, I can imagine who they were. It is too bad that these folks couldn’t let go of their expectations and just embrace the experience—or at least let their children do so. Just getting these kids outside is a rare treat in this city. Take advantage of it and, for God’s sake—lighten up!

Why I Love this Time: Squeeky hugs.

Stages

There are certain stages in Kaia’s development where I can’t wait for him to grow out of. The “screaming because you can’t understand me” or the “peeing on stuff just for fun” stages capture this desire in its purest form. On the other hand, there are periods where I feel the mirror emotions of bliss and sadness for times that I just don’t want to end. My first memories of these conflicting feelings—the first time that I had ever experienced such things—came when Kaia was a few days old and I was changing his diapers. It was a rather mundane moment, but I can remember how clear it was to me that time was already passing so quickly and that he would never be this age again. Since that time, there have been countless times when I have re-experienced these feelings, and recently it has been on a regular basis.

You see, ever since Kaia recovered from his illness, he has really grown up—a lot. I think that his being sick, forced him to verbally communicate in a more clear way and it is amazing the difference between the pre-sick Kaia and the post-sick Kaia. Whereas the pre-sick Kaia would just say “wanta, wanta, wanta” when he wanted something, the post-sick Kaia says, “Papa, Kaia wants (fill in the blank, although usually it is something sweet or a book)”. Also, driving around the city with him is like being with a junior tour guide. He can tell you that “Cedar’s Restaurant” is on your left, and the “Ganesh Temple” is on your right and the “Park Sheraton hotel” is coming up. It is really funny because I think that he has a better sense of the city than my wife does. He has also been so loving and cuddly—coming up behind you with surprise hugs and kisses, huge smiles and funny jokes---and he’s just been filling the house with his infectious laughter. Even at Kids Central they have noticed a big difference in his personality. The last two times that I have picked him up, his teacher Nidi has said how much he has been talking and engaging the activities with more excitement.

Ever since we came to India, time has taken on a very different pace and there is certainly a part of me that dislikes how the speed seems to have ratcheted up a few notches. Again, as I have written in earlier posts, I know that he will be sixteen before I even knew what happened: all the more reason to savor and mourn the passage of these precious, unforgettable times.

Why I Love this Time: Our lunches together out on the town where everyone knows his name—what a trip.

Sick

The paucity of posts recently has been the result of one thing: sickness. For the past 10 days or so, Kaia and I have been fighting off fever, mucus, dizziness, lethargy…just about all of the symptoms of that granddaddy of tropical diseases—malaria. With the rainy season in full swing and a mosquito breeding cycle of 3 days, well you have to think there always is this possibility. Fortunately, it seems that we’ve been spared. For now. Kaia is nearly back to his full spunk (and taking photos and climbing) and, while I am suffering from a cold and cough, the worst seems to be behind us. Needless to say, all things mental have been put on hold since he first got sick, so it will take some time to get back on the horse. I’ll say this, I can’t remember getting sick this often in my life—the combination of being here and having a little guy who is consistently being exposed to new stuff at school, is more than my body can handle, I guess.

Why I Love this Time: When he was just recovering and I asked him what we wanted to eat he said, “uttapham and vadai”. Too funny, this kid is truly a South Indian.

Diwali

Diwali is one of the most popular celebrations here in Chennai. Celebrated over five days, the ‘festival of lights’ is an important festival all over the country, but you would have to forgive the outsider who would think that it was more a ‘festival of noise’ than anything else. You see, for 2 or 3 days, around the clock, people of all ages take part in the progressively irritating ‘ritual’ of exploding firecrackers in the street. Now I can see the connection with the lighting of colorful fireworks and the spirit of Diwali—there is no stretch there—but when you have people lighting off a 100+ foot long string of inner ear thundering firecrackers (see photo), over and OVER and OVER again, there is every reason to wonder if this point here is to scare the bejeezus out of everyone—from stray dog to blue faced god. The problem of noise is something that many in the city are concerned about, as you can see in the dozens of Letters to the Editor in the local newspapers, leading up to Diwali. Just this last year, an upper cap was put on the firecracker decibels, but I can’t imagine that it did much good.

At first, Kaia was intrigued by the lights and noise that were coming from the street below our flat. A few days before Diwali, when the noise had already begun and we had no idea what we were in store for, he would run to the window to watch. However, by the time that the meat of the celebration had begun, it was like a war zone outside of our place. I have heard this analogy used before to describe loud situations, but in this case, it really sounded like machine gun fire and bombs (literally) going off just outside our window. Poor little guy was terrified, and while he did eventually get used to it, there was one time where he was in a room by himself and I found him curled up in the fetal position crying from the noise.

What compounded the challenge of being here during this time was that Kaia was very sick. He was running a 103 degree fever and he gave it to me as well. So here we are, lying in bed, trying to recover and rest, and there is a gunfight raging outside of our window. Not the best way to get healthy fast.

So, I think that the lesson learned here for the noise-averse foreigner is to get out of the country during Diwali. If, for some reason, we are still in India next November, I’ll be sure that we’re not in India, if you know what I mean.

Why I Love this Time: The little arc he takes when running out of a room and turning to go at a 90 degree angle.