Friday 06/20/2014
I woke up at 6:30
AM feeling incredibly rested, something that only happens when I am
in the throws of serious jetlag, meaning I will certainly crash by
mid-afternoon. This, of course, was an hour and a half later than the
residence hall bell rings for all the fathers to wake up. Uncle Jack
rises a half an hour before the bell (4:30 AM for everyone counting
at home) to make sure he is early to say mass at a convent several
miles away.
The school has
cooks and servants so Leslie and I were able to get made-to-order
eggs with our coffee and toast, a seemingly American way to start the
day but delicious nonetheless. After breakfast, Jack took us for a
walk around Patna. We first went to the hotel at which my parents
will be staying at the end of July. (We confirmed the reservation,
Mom and Dad, so you're all set to come).
We then walked
around a giant oval field called “Ghandi Maidan” that had been
originally created by the British to play polo and cricket but has
since been opened up to the public. There are still several games of
cricket going on at any given time, played by little kids with sticks
pounded into the ground so they are knocked over when hit by the
ball. We got many stares as we walked around the oval, but none of
which seemed malicious, mostly people just seemed curious about why
we were here. Since it is open to the public, this park seemed like a
place that many travelers (I.e gypsies) made there temporary home.
It was not long before we were swarmed by small children begging for
anything we could get. Uncle Jack would tell them to please leave and
that we had nothing for them but that did not keep them from
following us, constantly grabbing at our hands and shirts. It is
extremely sad to witness this sort of begging and being helpless to
do anything that could truly help these children. We had to simply
ignore them until the oldest said a few words and they all ran off.
At the end of our
circuit around the park, we met up with one of Jack's “daughters”
(orphan girls who he took care of for many years and who are now in
their late 20s or 30s and are all doing extremely well). Her name was
Shoba (spelling?) and she was shy but extremely pleasant. She is an
English teach at a junior college in a city near Varanasi. We hope to
visit her if we make it near that area.
After Lunch, we
decided that it was time to get a cell phone for the duration of our
stay here. Uncle Jack had purchased a second SIM card a while back
for a previous visitor (It is notoriously difficult to get a SIM card
here for a traveler because you need to have a permanent residence)
so all we had to do was buy a phone that could hold the card. Jack
took me for a ride on his motorcycle to the phone store. The ride was
a total blast, we were immersed in a see of autorickshaws,
motorbikes, bicycles, cows, goats, dogs and people on foot all trying
to get somewhere different. “close calls” has a whole different
meaning in this scenario, motorbikes and cars will pass within inches
of one another and no one thinks more of it. Other cars are
constantly driving in the wrong lane as they try to pass one another
but there never seems to be a single collision, it really is amazing.
Uncle Jack never uses his horn and never “challenges traffic” as
he puts it. I felt the confidence of a man who has been riding
motorcycles in these conditions for the past 60 years. We made it to
the phone store and I got a little dinky Samsung phone for 1250
ruppees (~20 bucks) and we headed back in the same conditions as the
way there.
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