City Guide Part 13
Sunday: a day meant for relaxation, recuperation and rest. Participation in this typical Sunday routine was high on our list as we strolled out of the hotel in Queens. Instead of rushing to the elevated tracks to catch the next train, we ambled along the sidewalk toward the station taking in the warm mid morning sun. We rode the train towards Manhattan then transferred to an underground train headed south and into Brooklyn. We emerged in Downtown Brooklyn to find the warm sun was replaced with ominous rain clouds. Our destination was a few blocks away: The Brooklyn Tabernacle. The Tabernacle holds several services throughout the day and we were told the line to enter the next service would not be allowed to start for several minutes. To fill up time, we decided to walk around the block. Downtown Brooklyn on a late Sunday morning had little to offer. The traffic was very light and few people were out on the street. All the shops were closed except one: a dollar store. We stepped inside and started looking around. The merchandise in the store was phenomenal. It was as if the value of the dollar had risen several hundred percent overnight! There were classic button up dress shirts, one pound bags of premium chocolates and authentic Rastafarian hats. I enjoyed walking the aisles and finding valuable merchandise on every shelf. Some say living in New York is expensive; but finding quality household items in New York is not. We left the store and walked back to the Tabernacle where we joined the line of people waiting for the next service. The outside of the church is drab, grey and blends in well with the warehouses that line the street. However, as the line we had joined entered the building, the grey exterior gave way to a brilliant white, red, and marble interior. We found our seats and the service began. The world famous Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir began to sing and their music enveloped the enormous sanctuary. The sound filled my ears without the sensation of being too loud. After announcements and the offering, the pastor introduced a professional football player who ran an after school program for "at risk" youth. After his presentation, the pastor led the congregation in prayer for the continued success of the charity. The pastor then started with his sermon. I believe the sermon was about Jesus's love and how we should reflect that love to others around us. During the sermon, the pastor asked everyone to stand, look into the eyes of the person sitting next to you, give them a big hug and say " Jesus Loves You." The young lady sitting next to me looked into my eyes with much sincerity and gave me a hearty hug. I will never forget her.
Continued in Part 14
Sunday, December 19, 2010
City Guide Part 12
It was late Saturday afternoon, and window shoppers were in full force, eyeing the delicate and edgy window displays along 5th Avenue. One display that caught my attention was in the window of Louis Vuitton. A glass lined exhibition reflected light from dozens of multi colored florescent tubes which enveloped the newest line of merchandise. The display at Tiffany & Company made me feel as if I was peering in at a queen's personal jewelry collection. Soon, we arrived at The Trump Tower, and recognized its setting for "The Apprentice" television program. The entrance is a fixture in the progression of the show. Typically, the losing contestant leaves the building, walks across the sidewalk and is let in to a waiting cab. We reversed this pattern and walked from the street into the brilliance of the main atrium. The building was built in the early 80's and the period style was plain to see. Gold, orange and brown dominate the building's public areas. A five story waterfall cascades down the far wall of the building. We rode a series of escalators where we absorbed the peaceful experience of standing at the top of the waterfall. After collecting ourselves in the tranquil surroundings, we continued down 5th Avenue.
After walking several blocks, we found a subway station and headed back to the hotel in Queens. Back at the hotel, Mom and Dad chose to call it a day. Although Scott and I were tired, we wanted to take the train to the far end of the #7 line to the site of the 1964 World's Fair at Flushing Meadows. The train stopped many times along the way, but we finally made it to the end of the line. We got out and ran up the stairs to find a teeming neighborhood where everything was written in Korean . Although it was not what I was expecting, I was amazed at how concentrated the Korean culture was here. Scott soon reminded me that our original plan was to visit the World's Fair Unisphere and not Korea Town. We found our way back to the train and took the short trip back to the second to last station at Shea Stadium. Unlike the Korea Town station, this one was deserted; when we exited, we were all alone. We could see the Unisphere looming across the park. Dusk closed around us as we stood in the center of the enormous fountain. After a short time at the Unisphere, we walked back to the station. Although it was now very dark, there were many families with children and pets making the most of a warm Saturday night at the park. When we got back to the train station, we noticed a group of people crowded in a corner of the raised platform. I could tell they were watching the Met's game inside Shea Stadium. Scott and I walked over and found a spot among the fans and watched the last innings of the game. When the Met's were up to bat, one of the players hit a triple. I could feel the crowd's excitement as cheering boomed out from the stadium. When the game was over, Scott and I rushed to the train to beat the crowds. But our haste to leave the station before the crowd was in vain. The train engineer waited for all the cars to fill to maximum before the train left. On the ride back to the hotel, I thought of the soon demise of Shea Stadium. In just a few months, the Stadium would be razed to make room for a new venue. I thought of the people we joined on the platform watching the game from a distance, and wondered if people stood on the same platform in 1965 when The Beatles made their inaugural North American Tour.
The train was still fairly crowded when we reached our hotel stop in Queens.
Continued in Part 13
It was late Saturday afternoon, and window shoppers were in full force, eyeing the delicate and edgy window displays along 5th Avenue. One display that caught my attention was in the window of Louis Vuitton. A glass lined exhibition reflected light from dozens of multi colored florescent tubes which enveloped the newest line of merchandise. The display at Tiffany & Company made me feel as if I was peering in at a queen's personal jewelry collection. Soon, we arrived at The Trump Tower, and recognized its setting for "The Apprentice" television program. The entrance is a fixture in the progression of the show. Typically, the losing contestant leaves the building, walks across the sidewalk and is let in to a waiting cab. We reversed this pattern and walked from the street into the brilliance of the main atrium. The building was built in the early 80's and the period style was plain to see. Gold, orange and brown dominate the building's public areas. A five story waterfall cascades down the far wall of the building. We rode a series of escalators where we absorbed the peaceful experience of standing at the top of the waterfall. After collecting ourselves in the tranquil surroundings, we continued down 5th Avenue.
After walking several blocks, we found a subway station and headed back to the hotel in Queens. Back at the hotel, Mom and Dad chose to call it a day. Although Scott and I were tired, we wanted to take the train to the far end of the #7 line to the site of the 1964 World's Fair at Flushing Meadows. The train stopped many times along the way, but we finally made it to the end of the line. We got out and ran up the stairs to find a teeming neighborhood where everything was written in Korean . Although it was not what I was expecting, I was amazed at how concentrated the Korean culture was here. Scott soon reminded me that our original plan was to visit the World's Fair Unisphere and not Korea Town. We found our way back to the train and took the short trip back to the second to last station at Shea Stadium. Unlike the Korea Town station, this one was deserted; when we exited, we were all alone. We could see the Unisphere looming across the park. Dusk closed around us as we stood in the center of the enormous fountain. After a short time at the Unisphere, we walked back to the station. Although it was now very dark, there were many families with children and pets making the most of a warm Saturday night at the park. When we got back to the train station, we noticed a group of people crowded in a corner of the raised platform. I could tell they were watching the Met's game inside Shea Stadium. Scott and I walked over and found a spot among the fans and watched the last innings of the game. When the Met's were up to bat, one of the players hit a triple. I could feel the crowd's excitement as cheering boomed out from the stadium. When the game was over, Scott and I rushed to the train to beat the crowds. But our haste to leave the station before the crowd was in vain. The train engineer waited for all the cars to fill to maximum before the train left. On the ride back to the hotel, I thought of the soon demise of Shea Stadium. In just a few months, the Stadium would be razed to make room for a new venue. I thought of the people we joined on the platform watching the game from a distance, and wondered if people stood on the same platform in 1965 when The Beatles made their inaugural North American Tour.
The train was still fairly crowded when we reached our hotel stop in Queens.
Continued in Part 13
City Guide Part 11
As we walked along Central Park South, with the park to our left,
and the impressive Plaza Hotel to our right we came across several art
vendors. These vendors were not selling original and unique pieces of
art. They were selling refrigerator magnets and small unframed mass
printed photographs. I was not impressed. It seemed as if every other
vendor was selling the same thing. The sidewalk was packed with
people. It was difficult to pass between the crowds of tourists. We
eventually made our way out of the crowds and emerged in Grand Army
Plaza.
The main feature of Grand Army Plaza, is a large gold colored statue
of General William Sherman on a horse being led by an angelic figure.
Beyond the statue, and across 5th Avenue, stood the glass entrance to
the flagship Apple store. After first seeing a photo of the glass
Apple Cube, I assumed the whole store was inside that Cube. But I now
realized The Cube is simply a fancy entrance to the actual underground
store. There was a small line of people waiting to visit the store.
Mom and Dad opted out of the line, and decided to wait for Scott and me
among the dozens of chairs and tables outside. After descending the
stairs and entering the main retail area, Scott and I realized that this
store was no more special than any other computer store. We browsed
the merchandise, blending in with homeless people checking their emails
at the demo computers. We soon decided to walk back up the stairs and out of the Cube.
Dad and Mom were enjoying the fresh air outside. Behind them, I
noticed the main entrance to the FAO Schwarz store.
The FAO Schwarz store, along with the 5th avenue Apple store were
grandiose institutions in my imagination. As I neared the front door
to the building, my anticipation of the most fabulous toy store in the
world grew. I was greeted by a friendly doorman dressed as a toy
soldier. And as I stepped inside, I quickly scanned the front showroom
for amazing toys. I was quickly disappointed when most of what I saw
in the store were plush toys and candy. After I gave up trying to find
the actual toys, I began to notice the detail of the stuffed
creatures. Most were incredible in size and full of character. Some of
the items could not fit into a normal sized bedroom.
With my preemptive 5th Avenue Retail expectations lowered, we exited
the FAO Schwarz store and walked down 5th avenue toward the looming
Trump Tower.
Continued in Part 12
As we walked along Central Park South, with the park to our left,
and the impressive Plaza Hotel to our right we came across several art
vendors. These vendors were not selling original and unique pieces of
art. They were selling refrigerator magnets and small unframed mass
printed photographs. I was not impressed. It seemed as if every other
vendor was selling the same thing. The sidewalk was packed with
people. It was difficult to pass between the crowds of tourists. We
eventually made our way out of the crowds and emerged in Grand Army
Plaza.
The main feature of Grand Army Plaza, is a large gold colored statue
of General William Sherman on a horse being led by an angelic figure.
Beyond the statue, and across 5th Avenue, stood the glass entrance to
the flagship Apple store. After first seeing a photo of the glass
Apple Cube, I assumed the whole store was inside that Cube. But I now
realized The Cube is simply a fancy entrance to the actual underground
store. There was a small line of people waiting to visit the store.
Mom and Dad opted out of the line, and decided to wait for Scott and me
among the dozens of chairs and tables outside. After descending the
stairs and entering the main retail area, Scott and I realized that this
store was no more special than any other computer store. We browsed
the merchandise, blending in with homeless people checking their emails
at the demo computers. We soon decided to walk back up the stairs and out of the Cube.
Dad and Mom were enjoying the fresh air outside. Behind them, I
noticed the main entrance to the FAO Schwarz store.
The FAO Schwarz store, along with the 5th avenue Apple store were
grandiose institutions in my imagination. As I neared the front door
to the building, my anticipation of the most fabulous toy store in the
world grew. I was greeted by a friendly doorman dressed as a toy
soldier. And as I stepped inside, I quickly scanned the front showroom
for amazing toys. I was quickly disappointed when most of what I saw
in the store were plush toys and candy. After I gave up trying to find
the actual toys, I began to notice the detail of the stuffed
creatures. Most were incredible in size and full of character. Some of
the items could not fit into a normal sized bedroom.
With my preemptive 5th Avenue Retail expectations lowered, we exited
the FAO Schwarz store and walked down 5th avenue toward the looming
Trump Tower.
Continued in Part 12
Saturday, October 09, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
City Guide New Delhi Part 11
Modern met ancient as digital security cameras scanned the
centuries old entrance to the Nizamuddin Dargah courtyard. Dozens
of foot-high stone burial vaults scattered the entrance area around
us. Rod hastily warned us that stepping over one of these
sarcophagi would bring great dishonor to the deceased and possible
eviction from the area. Shuffling behind Rod in my socks, I
noticed flies congregating in areas of the floor. I tried not to think
of what I was stepping in as we walked.
Outside the inner burial room, dozens of pilgrims sang and prayed in the shade under a cloth canopy. Women sat around the outside of the canopy, leaving the area near the front for the men. Rod led us to the inner tomb. Its doors were carved with a labyrinth of gold inlays in wild patterns. The two side walls were nothing more than carved stone lattices. The back wall was filled with intricate Arabic calligraphy. A boy helped his father lay
a sheer sheet over the bones of the saint while another man buried his
head in the layers of cloth, his prayers muffled in the fabric pile. The
procession of male pilgrims slowly circled the tomb clockwise. Some leaned over the sarcophagus to place flower petals, and the candy I had tasted earlier.
Others picked up these items as they made their way around the circle. Back in the corner of this room I noticed a man holding a small infant and a bottle of what looked like
medicine. The baby in his arms looked very ill. His eyes were glassed
over and his mouth was ajar. This man had come to the saint's tomb to
pray for his son's healing. It was a very sad sight.
Upon exiting the tomb, men with long beards and white clothes asked uncle Jay to
sign a paper. Jay told them that he was alright and passed them by. I
followed his lead. We found my cousins, and Rod led us back to the shoe
attendant.
As I walked back through the maze of shops and stands, I
wondered at the difference between the lives of the people here and
people living in other parts of the world. Would these people even
enjoy living in suburban United States?
Rod knew of a good restaurant in the neighborhood. At the time I did not know that Karim is part of a very well known chain of exclusive restaurants and hotels in the Delhi
area. A few months after returning home, I watched a television travel segment featuring Karim. As we waited outside the restaurant, the doorman
shooed away a particularly stubborn lady who repeatedly asked us for
money. Inside, Rod ordered the brains of a goat, and invited us all to join him in sampling this delicacy. It had a slight fish flavor.
pray for his son's healing. It was a very sad sight.
Upon exiting the tomb, men with long beards and white clothes asked uncle Jay to
sign a paper. Jay told them that he was alright and passed them by. I
followed his lead. We found my cousins, and Rod led us back to the shoe
attendant.
As I walked back through the maze of shops and stands, I
wondered at the difference between the lives of the people here and
people living in other parts of the world. Would these people even
enjoy living in suburban United States?
Rod knew of a good restaurant in the neighborhood. At the time I did not know that Karim is part of a very well known chain of exclusive restaurants and hotels in the Delhi
area. A few months after returning home, I watched a television travel segment featuring Karim. As we waited outside the restaurant, the doorman
shooed away a particularly stubborn lady who repeatedly asked us for
money. Inside, Rod ordered the brains of a goat, and invited us all to join him in sampling this delicacy. It had a slight fish flavor.
Leaving Karim's, we strolled through the neighborhood toward our taxi. Suddenly, about ten feet away from us, two bicyclists collided head on. The incident sent one cyclist straight to the ground while the other momentarily wobbled, and then continued. The cyclist who had fallen to the ground promptly picked up his bike and peddled furiously in an attempt to give the offending cyclist a piece of his mind. Sliding into the taxi, I could still hear his angry shouts as he wove through traffic in pursuit of his assailant.
Continued in Part 12
Modern met ancient as digital security cameras scanned the
centuries old entrance to the Nizamuddin Dargah courtyard. Dozens
of foot-high stone burial vaults scattered the entrance area around
us. Rod hastily warned us that stepping over one of these
sarcophagi would bring great dishonor to the deceased and possible
eviction from the area. Shuffling behind Rod in my socks, I
noticed flies congregating in areas of the floor. I tried not to think
of what I was stepping in as we walked.
Outside the inner burial room, dozens of pilgrims sang and prayed in the shade under a cloth canopy. Women sat around the outside of the canopy, leaving the area near the front for the men. Rod led us to the inner tomb. Its doors were carved with a labyrinth of gold inlays in wild patterns. The two side walls were nothing more than carved stone lattices. The back wall was filled with intricate Arabic calligraphy. A boy helped his father lay
a sheer sheet over the bones of the saint while another man buried his
head in the layers of cloth, his prayers muffled in the fabric pile. The
procession of male pilgrims slowly circled the tomb clockwise. Some leaned over the sarcophagus to place flower petals, and the candy I had tasted earlier.
Others picked up these items as they made their way around the circle. Back in the corner of this room I noticed a man holding a small infant and a bottle of what looked like
medicine. The baby in his arms looked very ill. His eyes were glassed
over and his mouth was ajar. This man had come to the saint's tomb to
pray for his son's healing. It was a very sad sight.
Upon exiting the tomb, men with long beards and white clothes asked uncle Jay to
sign a paper. Jay told them that he was alright and passed them by. I
followed his lead. We found my cousins, and Rod led us back to the shoe
attendant.
 |
| From New Delhi |
As I walked back through the maze of shops and stands, I
wondered at the difference between the lives of the people here and
people living in other parts of the world. Would these people even
enjoy living in suburban United States?
 |
| From New Delhi |
Rod knew of a good restaurant in the neighborhood. At the time I did not know that Karim is part of a very well known chain of exclusive restaurants and hotels in the Delhi
area. A few months after returning home, I watched a television travel segment featuring Karim. As we waited outside the restaurant, the doorman
shooed away a particularly stubborn lady who repeatedly asked us for
money. Inside, Rod ordered the brains of a goat, and invited us all to join him in sampling this delicacy. It had a slight fish flavor.
pray for his son's healing. It was a very sad sight.
Upon exiting the tomb, men with long beards and white clothes asked uncle Jay to
sign a paper. Jay told them that he was alright and passed them by. I
followed his lead. We found my cousins, and Rod led us back to the shoe
attendant.
As I walked back through the maze of shops and stands, I
wondered at the difference between the lives of the people here and
people living in other parts of the world. Would these people even
enjoy living in suburban United States?
Rod knew of a good restaurant in the neighborhood. At the time I did not know that Karim is part of a very well known chain of exclusive restaurants and hotels in the Delhi
area. A few months after returning home, I watched a television travel segment featuring Karim. As we waited outside the restaurant, the doorman
shooed away a particularly stubborn lady who repeatedly asked us for
money. Inside, Rod ordered the brains of a goat, and invited us all to join him in sampling this delicacy. It had a slight fish flavor.
Leaving Karim's, we strolled through the neighborhood toward our taxi. Suddenly, about ten feet away from us, two bicyclists collided head on. The incident sent one cyclist straight to the ground while the other momentarily wobbled, and then continued. The cyclist who had fallen to the ground promptly picked up his bike and peddled furiously in an attempt to give the offending cyclist a piece of his mind. Sliding into the taxi, I could still hear his angry shouts as he wove through traffic in pursuit of his assailant.
Continued in Part 12
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Part 10
Push carts, piled with everything from colorful fabrics to music CDs,
lined the street that took us into the Nizamuddin neighborhood. Waves
of beggars, nodding their heads, approached our car with outstretched
hands. Somehow they survive on the street, despite terrible physical
afflictions. I was stunned by a man whose bloody shoulder indicated a
recently removed arm, and was too weak to raise his remaining arm to
beg for help.
One persistent character decided to follow us during our entire stay
in the neighborhood. He appears in several of my photos.
Although I
carefully followed Rod's advise not to let my camera be seen, this
unique area provided over 100 photos and video clips. My camera's
size allowed me to hold it in my hand and take photos through my
fingers as
I walked.
A large majority of men in the neighborhood wore taquiyahs, small
crocheted hats worn for religious purposes.
We had tied bandannas
onto our heads in an attempt to blend in with the crowd, but rather
than blending in, we were obviously out of place. Rod sent his
maintenance contractor off to find taqiyahs for us to wear. A few
minutes later we had a handful of delicately woven taqiyahs to select
from, and soon each of us had taken possession of one of these
twelve-cent hats. With our new taqiyahs securely positioned on our
heads, we continued along the street leading to our destination - The
Nizamuddin Dargah.
The Nizamuddin Dargah is the shrine and final burial place of Hazrat
Auliya a revered Sufi saint. As we neared the shrine, the surrounding
buildings enveloped the street. It seemed as though we had entered a
cave. Lights from the merchant booths lit the path. Many of the
merchants near the shrine sold flower petals, brightly decorated silk
sheets and white candy. Pilgrims visiting the shrine buy these items
to lay on the shrine itself. Rod's maintenance contractor bought a bag
of the white candy. It tasted like a soft after dinner mint without
the strong mint flavor.
Soon, the street descended several steps to
the entrance of the shrine complex. Before entering the shrine and
adjacent Jamat Khana Mosque, visitors are expected to remove their
shoes and sandals. We left our shoes in the care of attendants who
stashed them away in a sea of hundreds of shoes, boots and sandals. I
left the dingy dark street behind and stepped onto the smooth white stone
floor of Nizamuddin Dargah.
Continued in part 11
Push carts, piled with everything from colorful fabrics to music CDs,
lined the street that took us into the Nizamuddin neighborhood. Waves
of beggars, nodding their heads, approached our car with outstretched
hands. Somehow they survive on the street, despite terrible physical
afflictions. I was stunned by a man whose bloody shoulder indicated a
recently removed arm, and was too weak to raise his remaining arm to
beg for help.
One persistent character decided to follow us during our entire stay
in the neighborhood. He appears in several of my photos.
 |
| From New Delhi |
 |
| From New Delhi |
carefully followed Rod's advise not to let my camera be seen, this
unique area provided over 100 photos and video clips. My camera's
size allowed me to hold it in my hand and take photos through my
fingers as
I walked.
A large majority of men in the neighborhood wore taquiyahs, small
crocheted hats worn for religious purposes.
 |
| From New Delhi |
onto our heads in an attempt to blend in with the crowd, but rather
than blending in, we were obviously out of place. Rod sent his
maintenance contractor off to find taqiyahs for us to wear. A few
minutes later we had a handful of delicately woven taqiyahs to select
from, and soon each of us had taken possession of one of these
twelve-cent hats. With our new taqiyahs securely positioned on our
heads, we continued along the street leading to our destination - The
Nizamuddin Dargah.
 |
| From New Delhi |
The Nizamuddin Dargah is the shrine and final burial place of Hazrat
Auliya a revered Sufi saint. As we neared the shrine, the surrounding
buildings enveloped the street. It seemed as though we had entered a
cave. Lights from the merchant booths lit the path. Many of the
merchants near the shrine sold flower petals, brightly decorated silk
sheets and white candy. Pilgrims visiting the shrine buy these items
to lay on the shrine itself. Rod's maintenance contractor bought a bag
of the white candy. It tasted like a soft after dinner mint without
the strong mint flavor.
 |
| From New Delhi |
the entrance of the shrine complex. Before entering the shrine and
adjacent Jamat Khana Mosque, visitors are expected to remove their
shoes and sandals. We left our shoes in the care of attendants who
stashed them away in a sea of hundreds of shoes, boots and sandals. I
left the dingy dark street behind and stepped onto the smooth white stone
floor of Nizamuddin Dargah.
Continued in part 11
Sunday, March 07, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday, January 01, 2010
City Guide New Delhi Part 9
Following the motorcycle tour, I joined my group again, ready to
return to the children's home on the other side of the city. Jay's
plans included providing a chicken dinner for the children. Shane, a
fellow traveler and carbonated beverage enthusiast, wanted to purchase
soda for the evening feast. We stopped at a market where the employees
were busy decorating for the upcoming Independence Day celebrations.
Shane and I selected a cart full of bottled soda - some familiar, and
some not. The children at the home were glad to see us. I found
myself surrounded by welcoming hugs and hearing, "Welcome, Uncle
Mark!" They really enjoyed posing for my camera, but the highlight of
their day seemed to come when we all admired their photos together.
After the children finished their chicken dinner, we remained until
late in the evening, as they entertained us with their activities.
The next morning, I walked down the stairs to meet Rod and his
maintenance contractor. They would accompany us into Nizamuddin West,
one of the oldest neighborhoods in the city of Delhi. After we had all
gathered, Rod took a few moments to brief us on what to expect in this
inner city area. We would find ourselves in narrow streets teeming
with beggars and pickpockets. He suggested we cover our heads with
scarves and bandannas to show honor to the neighborhood Sufi shrines.
As he told us about this amazing part of the city, I found myself
filled with excitement, ready to enter the waiting taxi and see this
place with my own eyes!
The taxi ride took us past modern corporation headquarters and large
private boarding schools. At last we stopped next to a low lying wall
and stepped out of the taxi. Immediately, a man with a long white
beard approached me with his hand out expecting a rupee. Rod rolled
his eyes and said something to the man in Hindi. The man stepped back
as we
cautiously walked through a gate in the wall.
--
Continued in Part 10
Following the motorcycle tour, I joined my group again, ready to
return to the children's home on the other side of the city. Jay's
plans included providing a chicken dinner for the children. Shane, a
fellow traveler and carbonated beverage enthusiast, wanted to purchase
soda for the evening feast. We stopped at a market where the employees
were busy decorating for the upcoming Independence Day celebrations.
Shane and I selected a cart full of bottled soda - some familiar, and
some not. The children at the home were glad to see us. I found
myself surrounded by welcoming hugs and hearing, "Welcome, Uncle
Mark!" They really enjoyed posing for my camera, but the highlight of
their day seemed to come when we all admired their photos together.
 |
| From New Delhi |
After the children finished their chicken dinner, we remained until
late in the evening, as they entertained us with their activities.
The next morning, I walked down the stairs to meet Rod and his
maintenance contractor. They would accompany us into Nizamuddin West,
one of the oldest neighborhoods in the city of Delhi. After we had all
gathered, Rod took a few moments to brief us on what to expect in this
inner city area. We would find ourselves in narrow streets teeming
with beggars and pickpockets. He suggested we cover our heads with
scarves and bandannas to show honor to the neighborhood Sufi shrines.
As he told us about this amazing part of the city, I found myself
filled with excitement, ready to enter the waiting taxi and see this
place with my own eyes!
The taxi ride took us past modern corporation headquarters and large
private boarding schools. At last we stopped next to a low lying wall
and stepped out of the taxi. Immediately, a man with a long white
beard approached me with his hand out expecting a rupee. Rod rolled
his eyes and said something to the man in Hindi. The man stepped back
as we
cautiously walked through a gate in the wall.
--
Continued in Part 10
Thursday, December 31, 2009
City Guide New Delhi Part 8
The early morning drive to the school was quick; unlike the day
before. The school officials had recently purchased a two room house,
planning to convert it into classrooms. I indicated that I would be
willing to help prepare the house for this use. On arriving, I was
given a large paintbrush and a five gallon bucket of whitewash. With
the use of a sturdy bamboo ladder, the first layer of whitewash was
applied. The rooms were very hot. My comrades and I took breaks
outside the house to find refuge in the cool shade. Curious
neighbors gathered to admire the clean white walls. One man from the
neighborhood let me ride his bike to the end of the street and back.
Later in the day, Uncle Jay arrived in the taxi. After he looked
through the freshly whitewashed rooms, our painting crew joined him
for a two hour journey to the children's home where we all played
soccer until it was time to leave for dinner. Jay's friends had
reserved seats for the evening at a very nice restaurant called Hi
Marchee. We stopped at Rod's house to quickly clean up and change into
our nicest clothes and then bundled into the taxi for the ride
downtown. I sat across the table from a young man named Bennett and
his friend. We talked about soccer and their experiences in school.
The drink we were served was new to me. We had a pitcher of club soda,
a vial of lime juice and a small jar of corn syrup which we mixed
together to make a lime drink.
The next day, a visit to the converted school house we had whitewashed
the day before was first on our agenda.
Jay's friend was excited to
show us the finished product. We were amazed to find the two rooms
packed with students learning to add numbers and recite Hindi poems!
Leaving the school, we ventured a little further outside the permanent
neighborhood to a collection of structures held together by sticks and
discarded sheet metal. Many of the children in this slum were
obviously very malnourished. Jay's friends wanted to show us a
permanent community center they were building. Although the one-room
center was simply four cinder block walls with a tin roof, it stood
out boldly among the surrounding shacks. This center would be well
used in improving the lives of children and adults, and in giving them
a different outlook on life. One of the workers invited me to take a
tour of the neighborhood on the back of his motorcycle.
Even though
it had begun to rain very hard, I couldn't refuse the offer. Our ride
took us past a large market where every stall was decorated with
colorful ribbons and advertising. Beyond the market was a large
secondary school. At one point, my motorcycle friend stopped and
chatted with some of his friends. By the time we returned to the
office, I was completely soaked, but glad for the opportunity to
experience this unique part of this city.
--
Continued in Part 9
The early morning drive to the school was quick; unlike the day
before. The school officials had recently purchased a two room house,
planning to convert it into classrooms. I indicated that I would be
willing to help prepare the house for this use. On arriving, I was
given a large paintbrush and a five gallon bucket of whitewash. With
the use of a sturdy bamboo ladder, the first layer of whitewash was
applied. The rooms were very hot. My comrades and I took breaks
outside the house to find refuge in the cool shade. Curious
neighbors gathered to admire the clean white walls. One man from the
neighborhood let me ride his bike to the end of the street and back.
 |
| From New Delhi |
Later in the day, Uncle Jay arrived in the taxi. After he looked
through the freshly whitewashed rooms, our painting crew joined him
for a two hour journey to the children's home where we all played
soccer until it was time to leave for dinner. Jay's friends had
reserved seats for the evening at a very nice restaurant called Hi
Marchee. We stopped at Rod's house to quickly clean up and change into
our nicest clothes and then bundled into the taxi for the ride
downtown. I sat across the table from a young man named Bennett and
his friend. We talked about soccer and their experiences in school.
The drink we were served was new to me. We had a pitcher of club soda,
a vial of lime juice and a small jar of corn syrup which we mixed
together to make a lime drink.
The next day, a visit to the converted school house we had whitewashed
the day before was first on our agenda.
 |
| From New Delhi |
Jay's friend was excited to
show us the finished product. We were amazed to find the two rooms
packed with students learning to add numbers and recite Hindi poems!
Leaving the school, we ventured a little further outside the permanent
neighborhood to a collection of structures held together by sticks and
discarded sheet metal. Many of the children in this slum were
obviously very malnourished. Jay's friends wanted to show us a
permanent community center they were building. Although the one-room
center was simply four cinder block walls with a tin roof, it stood
out boldly among the surrounding shacks. This center would be well
used in improving the lives of children and adults, and in giving them
a different outlook on life. One of the workers invited me to take a
tour of the neighborhood on the back of his motorcycle.
 |
| From New Delhi |
Even though
it had begun to rain very hard, I couldn't refuse the offer. Our ride
took us past a large market where every stall was decorated with
colorful ribbons and advertising. Beyond the market was a large
secondary school. At one point, my motorcycle friend stopped and
chatted with some of his friends. By the time we returned to the
office, I was completely soaked, but glad for the opportunity to
experience this unique part of this city.
--
Continued in Part 9
Saturday, December 26, 2009
City Guide New Delhi Part 7
The intense mid-afternoon sun was intermittently shielded by tall
apartment buildings as our taxi traveled through this urban canyon
land.
Our destination was a children's home where more than seventy
children patiently awaited our arrival. The urban area ended abruptly
at a slow moving river, choked with discarded trash. Crossing the
bridge, we encountered a mostly rural landscape with open grain fields
and large
cattle operations. The open country road induced our driver to proceed
at top speed, and we soon arrived at the home. After a quick blast
from the horn, two boys walked up and opened the gate.
We all gathered in a large room with the children, as Vipin welcomed
us. He then signaled seven girls who entered the room wearing white
dresses, dancing and singing their welcome song. In clear English,
we heard the words: "Welcome, dancing,
dancing; We come to sing, sing of joy, and dancing, dance away." As
the song finished, the children presented us with garlands of
marigolds. Once we all had a garland around our necks, a boy began
playing drums. At this sound, six boys came to the
front and energetically danced to the beats. Then it was our turn to
present the children with what we had brought to them. They were
pleased with new soccer balls, basketballs and a badminton set.
But the one item that instigated the most excitement
was a colorful parachute.
On our return trip, I noticed the FIFA or "International
Federation of Association Football" headquarters. After this long day,
the cool air in Rod's guest rooms was most welcome, and we all were
soon sleeping soundly, resting up for the next full day with the
children.
Continued in Part 8
The intense mid-afternoon sun was intermittently shielded by tall
apartment buildings as our taxi traveled through this urban canyon
land.
 |
| From New Delhi |
Our destination was a children's home where more than seventy
children patiently awaited our arrival. The urban area ended abruptly
at a slow moving river, choked with discarded trash. Crossing the
bridge, we encountered a mostly rural landscape with open grain fields
and large
cattle operations. The open country road induced our driver to proceed
at top speed, and we soon arrived at the home. After a quick blast
from the horn, two boys walked up and opened the gate.
We all gathered in a large room with the children, as Vipin welcomed
us. He then signaled seven girls who entered the room wearing white
dresses, dancing and singing their welcome song. In clear English,
we heard the words: "Welcome, dancing,
dancing; We come to sing, sing of joy, and dancing, dance away." As
the song finished, the children presented us with garlands of
marigolds. Once we all had a garland around our necks, a boy began
playing drums. At this sound, six boys came to the
front and energetically danced to the beats. Then it was our turn to
present the children with what we had brought to them. They were
pleased with new soccer balls, basketballs and a badminton set.
But the one item that instigated the most excitement
was a colorful parachute.
On our return trip, I noticed the FIFA or "International
Federation of Association Football" headquarters. After this long day,
the cool air in Rod's guest rooms was most welcome, and we all were
soon sleeping soundly, resting up for the next full day with the
children.
Continued in Part 8
Monday, December 14, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
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