Posted on April 3, 2017 under Monday Morning Musings with 4 comments

Keeping a cool head when it’s 36 degrees outside

 

“ In the misty moonlight, by the flickering firelight,

Any place is alright, long as I’m with you.”

In The Misty Moonlight. Jerry Wallace.      

 

1,000,00 rupees!

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!

Many of you made donations to the Daughters of Mary in the comfort of your homes through e-transfers. Homes with running water, electricity and indoor plumbing. And many others trudged through snow covered sidewalks to make your contributions in person at the Bergengren Credit Union. Through your generosity we were able to purchase wheelchairs, wheelchair tricycles and a sewing machine. You also provided the funds to install an indoor bathroom at an orphanage for young boys. You provided clean drinking water to 50 homes in the leprosy community.

BTW. We’re still $200 short for the indoor bathroom at the orphanage. It’s not too late to give. (!)  Just follow this link. Thanks.  http://www.week45.com/supporting-the-daughters-of-mary-in-india/

I was invited to a farewell lunch by a family in nearby Nagercoil a few days ago. I hopped on the bus… a crowded bus I might add. And it was 35 degrees. This is NOT a complaint but merely the facts. It was an opportunity to take care of one final chore. I wanted to go to a photo shop to get the picture printed of the Sister holding her rosary, along with a frame. They successfully transferred the picture from my phone and they asked me to wait to make sure that the copy was good before they framed it.

 They asked for payment and suggested that I come back in an hour’s time to pick it up. I was delighted to see a sign on the wall that said, “ We accept all major credit and debit cards.” I slid my Mastercard across the counter. “ We don’t take international credit cards.” The owner of the shop was sitting within earshot. I drew their attention to the sign. They were apologetic but there wasn’t anything they could do. I paid in cash. When I returned two hours later, I looked up at the sign. Written in pen, underneath the misleading sign it read, “ Except International credit cards.”

My hosts decided to treat me to a famous Indian meal: chicken biryani. I haven’t eaten very much meat on the trip and was eagerly anticipating this repast. In order to ensure the freshest possible poultry, my host took me to a neighborhood shop.  I use the term very loosely . Her regular butcher shop was closed so we had to go somewhere else. “ Somewhere else” was the darkest, filthiest hovel I have seen in 5 months. No. In 65 years. It was so dark and the walls were so caked with dry blood, that the picture I took to prove I was there, wasn’t clear enough to publish. It was apparent that no Federal Food Inspection agency had ever stepped foot inside this establishment. EVER. Courage has limitations.

The proprietor was wearing clothes that he may have had on his back for years, possibly decades. There was no evidence of chickens, alive or deceased, in this concrete cave…. other than dried blood. He went upstairs and returned with a live chicken. He weighed it, chopped its head off, removed the feathers and expertly cut it into pieces. The total cost: 180 rupees ( $3.60 ).

The biryani, by the way, was spectacular.

I have been teaching some basic guitar to a number of people at the convent. On Saturday, I was giving Sister Rani a few pointers in the lobby of the B@B. There were no guests so we didn’t have to worry about aggravating anyone,  with a beginner trying to play a D Major chord for the first time. There always seems to be visitors at the convent… friends and friends of friends of the Sisters. Two Indian men were walking by the B@B and when they heard music ( ?!), they stopped in to say hello. They asked me if I would play a tune. Trying to find common ground was a bit tricky so we settled on “ Jingle Bells.” It seemed a bit odd “ dashing through the snow” with the thermometer registering 37 outside.

Just for a laugh, I sang Great Big Sea’s “The Old Black Rum.” Not sure if they understood a single word but they enjoyed it. And then one of them dropped a bombshell. “ “ Do you know any songs by Jim Reeves?” This man is from the neighboring state of Kerala and his favorite musician is none other than ” Gentleman Jim.”  I have since learned that Reeves was/is enormously popular in India and Sri Lanka. I grabbed my iphone and quickly pulled up Reeve’s discography. I recognized “ In The Misty Moonlight” and was quickly joined by my two new best Indian friends. They were ecstatic and both insisted on giving me bear hugs before departing.

Lying in bed that night I was thinking…. Southern India… Bed and Breakfast…  Jingle Bells…Jim Reeves. How in the name of God did all this happen?

“ Way up on the mountain, or way down in the valley

I know I’ll be happy, any place, anywhere…”

Next stop… Delhi.

Have a great week.

 

 

Posted on March 31, 2017 under Storytelling with 16 comments

 

In a few days time, I will be heading to North India for a vacation. I won’t have my laptop computer with me, so I am going to try and publish my stories on my iPhone.

This is a test to see if I can do this efficiently and accurately. Now don’t go all haywire on me if this post doesn’t come out perfectly.

Do me a favor, and send me a short note to let me know that you have received this message.

Thanks.

 

 

 

 

Posted on March 30, 2017 under Thursday Tidbits with 5 comments

 

“ Misty, water colored mem’ries, of the way we were.”

The Way We Were . Barbra Streisand

Memories accumulate over the years and one hopes when all is said and done, that the good outweigh the bad. The brain seems to have an infinite number of gigabytes and from time to time, will instantly recall events from 50 years ago. For me, hearing an old tune will evoke vivid memories. “ Hey Jude” or “Whiter Shade of Pale” instantly takes me back to high school dances at the Parish Center…. waiting for the last waltz.

So what, pray tell, does this have to do with my second ayurvedic massage? Those of you who read this column regularly will recall that my first massage in India ended up in bloodshed. http://www.week45.com/a-well-oiled-machine/

The Bed and Breakfast at Stella Maris now offers massages as a value added proposition. A man with 13 years of experience has joined the staff to provide comfort for weary travelers. The B@B is owned by the Daughters of Mary and virtually everything they do, is centered around spirituality. So it was no surprise that Sister Archana volunteered me (!) to be the recipient of the first massage, accompanied by a prayer offering, to officially open the massage room.

The ceremony took place just after dusk and before supper was served. I expected a blessing followed by a photo op of me ( partially clothed ! ) lying on the massage table. I reckoned that 15 minutes should do it nicely. I arrived a few minutes early to chat with Shaji. The room had a few religious symbols and candles… and incense. I looked at the massage table and my jaw dropped slightly as I saw a cotton loincloth.

At 7:00, four Sisters arrived plus a handful of the staff, who all crowded in to a small space. It was 29 degrees. No air conditioning. I immediately started to perspire and it wasn’t because of the oppressive heat. I was wondering about the photo op… and the loincloth.

Prayers commenced. “The First Sorrowful Mystery.” Everyone dropped to their knees. And just like that, I was transported back in time to 39 Hillcrest Street fifty or more years ago when the ten of us hit the hardwoods every noon hour to say a decade or two of the rosary. Because of our proximity to Morrison School and Antigonish High, we were able to go home for a full dinner at midday. Once the meal was dispatched, we would gather in the living room and grab prayer beads.

At 7:40 prayers ended. Beads of sweat took on a whole new meaning. My stomach was rumbling and I was anxious to get the photo done so that I could eat supper. I soon found out that there would be no photo taken but that I would have the first “ ceremonial massage” to officially mark the opening of the massage center. To my enormous relief, the Sisters and the rest of the entourage left the small “ easy bake oven.” It was more like Dante’s “Inferno.”

At 8:45 it was over. “ You need to let the oil sink in for another hour “ said Shaji. He told me to get dressed ( shorts and a t-shirt ) and to go and eat my supper…lathered in oil. I entered the small dining area and the four Sisters were just finishing their dinner. I looked like some zombie from a horror movie. “ Sorrowful Mystery” took on a whole new meaning.

I am happy to report that the massage was excellent and that I didn’t receive any injuries to my body!

Have a great day.

P.S. Help build an indoor washroom for 25 orphan boys. We need $700 more to start the work. To donate go to http://www.week45.com/supporting-the-daughters-of-mary-in-india/