Village Life. . .

is far from the urban conveniences that we are used to, like internet, like reliable electricity, like reliable water supply, like warm showers. Cows and dung cakes used for fertilizer are usual sights. It really gives you a global perspective to see where most of the the world population (although most is moving to urban centres) live. The green green fields is refreshing to see (many villages in the Punjab state are farms) and so are the kids who are excited to learn and play.

It's definitely very calm here, but during the day, there are hours when there is no electricity. Makes you think about our power and water consumption in the city. The only disruptive part of village life, the noisy part, happens at 4am when the Gurdwara (sikh temple) starts saying a prayer throught the loudspeakers and travels throughout the village. This wakes me up and I don't sleep until the prayer stops. this morning luckily, the power went out and the prayer only lasted for 1 hour instead of 2. There are three temples in the village and services two times a day (~4am and ~6pm).

We are planning for the set-up of an education centre here and did a site-tour of the local promary school where the education centre will be. As we await for our own kitchen, we are being provided food, mostly chapati (bread) morning, lunch and inner (~9pm) with yogourt (curd) as well as lots of sweet sweet milk tea before and/or after meals.

After a couple days in the village, we are heading to travel to Rajastan. It's a different region and a touristier environment. . .will tell more later.

Arrival. . .

After 14 hours on a plane from Vancouver to Hong Kong and 6 hours from Hong Kong to Delhi I arrive to honking taxis and buses in the middle of the night. The roads are awake on the way to the bus station. On the way there our bus driver honks at every station as well as every large vehicle with swirling red and green letters at the back urging drivers to "Please honk". Each vehicle seems to have its signature tune. The bus doors open and close, vendors hop on and off, the driver turns up the Hindi music at the helm with white flower chain framing a picture of a famous figure. On the way, seas of autorickshaws and bus vie for the road, street side food stalls and outdoor barbar shop reminds me of China.

5.5 hours later, we arrive in the middle of the morning at Chandigarh. The roads are clean with beautiful green street islands which private vehicles, buses, taxis, autorickshaws and bicycles share. At the bus station, rickshaw and autorickshaw drivers follow us. Daksh, who came to pick me up, shakes his head. "Neyhi," I learn to say. I'm sure the first of many to come.

I will be moving to a village for the most of my stay where I will be based for my work.