Viewing Photos

I am going to be lazy. Sorry. I am going to put most of my photos up on the CostCo website so I can print them right from the same album when we get home. If you don't have a CostCo account just sign up (it's free and you don't need a CostCo membership).
http://www.costcophotocenter.com/login

Finally!

After 14 weeks of processing, numerous phone calls, and lots of worry, Abi's passport has finally arrived! She needed a new one because her old one expired. Vignesh actually had an appointment next week in the San Fran office to collect the passport personally if it got down to that. With only 10 days to go, that is cutting things very close.

We have 70 pounds of luggage per person. Most of this is going to be gifts and gear for everyone else. A little bit of it will be our clothes. I found out that Nitara can sit in her carseat on the airplane. At least that's one less thing to check in. The relatives want things like Ben Gay, Tums, vitamin tablets, chocolates. I'm sure a few things will be requested this week. In addition we need to buy everyone gifts. Big gifts for the closest family members, little gifts for everyone else. I'm still working on the little gifts. I did manage to score with bags of various sizes of chip and bag clips at IKEA. I think I may go back to get more stuff from there after talking with Vignesh. I have so much packing to do. My head is swimming.

Fatalism and Carseats

The differences that I have found in India go much deeper than just the food, music, and dress. It is the way of thinking. For example, one does not say "no." You say "yes" but you mean "no." If you really mean "no" you say "maybe" instead of "yes." I have come across as a very pushy person because when someone gives me a wishy washy answer I try to get them to be more specific and the answer just gets more and more muddled. On my last visit there I stayed 2.5 months. I was housebound for much of that trip after my husband left. At that time his family was very busy. His mom worked full time in the home office, as did his brother in law. His sister was not that busy but she still had to keep up her apartment which was a few miles away. She did not always get use of the car to take me out or to visit, and it is she who I get along with best. My father in law was newly retired but he spent the mornings running errands and shopping for the day's food while my mother in law was working in the office. In the afternoons he met with the architect and other related people for the new house that was being built for my husband's sister, as she was newly married. They had to oversee every single detail. Of course I was last on their minds. In the states I led an active life of meeting other moms, going to the park, library, bike rides, stroller walks, the zoo and so on. In India there was really no place to walk by myself outside of their small street (and how often can one do circles?). No clean playgrounds or parks, no public libraries, and I of course did not drive or attempt to ride a rickshaw alone with a baby. If I did, I wouldn't even know where to ask to be driven. So I was desperate for diversion. I would ask someone to please take me somewhere when they were going there. They would say, "Maybe later." I would ask "when shall I be ready?" and they would say "maybe this afternoon." Thinking that was the answer, I would ready myself and wait, and wait, and wait. And no one would ever show up to take me out, and it became clear as the afternoon progressed that plans had already been made previously and it did not involve taking me out. I wish I could have just been told "Not today, we already made plans" but things don't work like that over there.

There is also an attitude of fate or karma playing a huge role in one's life and what happens. Here in the US parents are so safety-minded. It might be to an extreme, but every parent wants to protect their child, right? Parents in India don't love their kids any less but they do take more chances with the kids, and with themselves. Things that common sense would dictate that you just don't do with children. Some families simply have no other choice. They cannot afford more than a bike and people still need to get from point A to point B. You see things like this and this. Keep in mind that they are riding through heavy traffic as shown in the video clips I provided previously, with big trucks, busses, and crazy honking drivers all around. But you have no choice. You see a lot of this, too. And this. The two-wheeled family car for the ones who are slightly better off than the bike riders. Again, in the US we would not imagine doing this but in India and probably most places in the world this is something that people do. Lastly, for those who have a lot of money, you see this. The whole family crammed into the car, saving space by putting kids on the laps of parents.

So why do these well off folks, who can afford a car and can presumably afford a carseat as well, choose to endanger their children like this? Being a huge carseat advocate, it triggers my ingrained sense of fear when I see kids riding unrestrained. There are carseats available in India. Not widely, but you can find one if you ask around and have money in your pocket. It comes down to several factors:

a) Most people in India do not have cars, the vast majority in fact. This is in contrast to the US and Europe. The government is not going to spend its precious public ad campaigns targeting the few rich when they can better spend it promoting the welfare of the many poor and almost poor. Things such as birth control and family planning, education, child welfare, pollution. These are much more pressing matters that keeping the kids of rich people safe by using carseats. People who own cars simply are not aware of the need for carseats. There is the common belief that they can just hold onto the baby tightly in a crash, and that the baby is more comfortable in someone's lap. In fact, 8% of the world's auto fatalities happen in India, about 90,000 people per year. That's a lot, considering that only a small percentage of people there own a car.

b) There is a general sense of fatalism that is part of the cultural and religious beliefs. India's culture is based on a caste system. Although there are efforts being made to do away with it, it is so ingrained in the culture that it will be a very long time before people will not see themselves first as a member of a certain caste and second as an individual. The caste system is determined by fate of birth, and many believe it is because of actions taken in your last life. Same with poverty-- the people are born into poverty because they were meant to be. Next life, they might have better luck. This is their fate in this life and the sooner they accept it the less miserable they will be. It is a necessary tool of survival especially for someone who is born into hopeless poverty with no real chance of ever escaping it. India does not have goverment welfare to the degree that we have in the US. Here, you are poor if you drive a junky car and live in a junky apartment and if the car breaks down you have to take the bus to work. In India, you are poor if you live on the street, your kids live on the street, and you all might get lucky and be able to afford a run-down apartment which you will share with 20 relatives. If your kid gets sick you help them as much as you can and pray a lot, and if they die, well it was just their time. In our country we have such a sense of entitlement and perhaps that also extends to our expectation that we will live a long and healthy life. We do everything we can to protect that life. Many Indians feel that if it's their time to go, then it's their time and it's no use preventing it. So if they are riding in a car and die because they were not wearing a belt, then it must have just been their time. Otherwise they would have made it home safe like all the other times they have ridden home in the car over the years. Enjoy life to the fullest today because you just never know about tomorrow.

Several years ago my husband's sister's husband was driving home from a temple event with some friends. They also gave a ride home to an elderly priest. The three young men buckled up but the older priest did not. They were hit by a drunk truck driver. The three young men walked away, the priest died in the accident. We were all shocked by this and expected them to be too. They were sad that the priest died, but the attitude was that he was old, he had lived a full life, it was his time, and wasn't it fortunate that he departed on such an auspicious festival day.

This whole carseat thing has been driving me crazy. I am planning to bring both girls' seats and one for my nephew. I don't care if I have to leave other stuff behind. I will only care a little that they get annoyed that the kids take up room in the car and can't fit on someone's lap to save room. As I posted before, I bought my sister in law an infant seat to use when she had a baby. Then found out they had not been using the seat when he was a newborn, and then when they tried to use it later they stopped because he cried. I sent a bunch of crash test videos of kids riding on people's laps, some websites about carseats, and a loving note about how much we cared about her son and would hate to see anything happen to him. All the previous times that I had asked her how the seat was working out, if they were able to install it okay, I was given the yes-that-means-no answer, the polite but frustratingly unenlightening answer. Finally found out the truth. Beyond a certain point I can't do more than to say I've tried my best. And on the other side, they are probably thinking I'm some crazy, safety-obsessed woman who should just relax and enjoy life. Maybe we are both somewhat right.

Shopping for Suitcases

I have not been to Goodwill in months. Why? Because I always come home with crap I don't need. Today I went in search of

a. cheap lightweight suitcases

b. shorts and skirts for Abi.


I came home with

a. one skirt for Abi

b. one giant Fisher Price dollhouse mansion

c. one Tiny Love baby mobile

d. a small laptop bag

e. two Magic Schoolbus books that we don't own yet

f. one paperback novel for me

g. one book about mummies for Abi

h. zero suitcases


So now the justifcation:

a. it fit her and she liked it. Fine.

b. Because Nitara looked at me with these big huge baby brown eyes and asked sooo nicely and it was only $5 and great shape and would be a good home for the thousand and one Little People figures that we had tried to get rid of earlier by putting them in the garage and they were forgotten successfully until a certain husband brought the whole mother lode back out when I was sick in bed one day. And now they are all over the whole house again, but hey, they are finally being played with and wouldn't this be a nice addition to the farm, airplane, school bus, and car that we already have?

c.Because Abi just fell in love with this thing and begged and pleaded and pointed out that she did indeed have $4 of her own money at home and she wanted to spend it on this, and it was in great shape after all, practically new, and they are expensive new (but come one she's 6!). And after we got it home I mounted it on the bed frame and she sat and stared at it and played the classical music and just looked so peaceful and happy and feel promptly asleep. So why didn't I buy one when she was a baby? It might have been THE KEY to her sleep problems. Kicking myself.

d. Because our current laptop bag is huge, and this one was really small and nifty and stylish, and who cares if I rarely take the laptop anywhere because it also needs the chiller tray and has no working battery at the moment. But hey, for the plane trip we are allowed to carry one carry-on plus a small purse or laptop. If I put the laptop in the rolling backpack that has a laptop sleeve it might be too heavy with the formula* in it too, so hey, I can put it in this neat little nifty stylish $3 laptop case and its weight won't be counted. Even though it's an old laptop and probaby weight 20 pounds, not including the broken battery. And I'm not even sure if the laptop is coming with us yet, but that's beside the point.

e. Because, wouldn't you know it, one of my life's aspirations is to own every single Magic Schoolbus book they have ever printed.

f. Because I can stuff it in the the nifty little new laptop case and read it on the plane. Yeah right, with two kids to take care of. Wishful thinking, but it justified the book.

g. Because she wanted to read it. And because somehow the fact that my daughter wants to see pictures of dried up old mummies and read about how they came to be that way makes me feel I must be raising her right.

h. Because they didn't have any. But the lady said check back every day because they do get them in but the go fast. So every day I will drive by Goodwill after picking up Abi from school and every day come back with another carload of stuff we don't need and no more suitcases than we bought the previous time.

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And now contrast this with parts of India. Our life is so different here. With a little begging my kids get some new (used) toys. In India I have seen children really begging. For money. I have had the juice box grabbed out of my hand and sucked down hungrily by a girl Abi's age. Exiting temples, I have had people beg for my half-eaten sweet prasana and when I give it to them, my appetite suddenly gone, they eat it as if it's the best thing on earth. Not all of India is poverty. I can easily walk down the street with child beggars, dirty and thin, with reddish hair from malnutrition, follow me. But they stop short of the mall I have just entered. And inside the mall there is air conditioning, shops with neat rows of luggage, handbags, shoes, furniture, books, and toys. When you are a child beggar, you have little need for all this. You want food. It is an all-consuming thought.

I look at my own children with everything they need, and more than a few extras such as the dollhouse, the huge collection of books, their bunkbed with clean sheets and they wear clean pajamas to bed, and they get a new toothbrush when their old one wears out, and if they are sick they can go to the doctor. Abi sometimes complains that I won't let her have certain toys, or that her backpack is not as nice as her friend's. India is an eye-opener. I wonder what it will be like for my girls to see children their own age begging in the street for a scrap of food? I hope that they come back from this trip appreciating what they have. I too am often caught up in the "I wish I had . . ". In the U.S. it is hard in other ways. We are so isolated from one another. We are so consumed with buying the necessities of life: for our kids things like toys, fashionable clothes, music and sports lessons.

To illustrate the divide between the rich and poor in India, here's a bit about my husband's life. His family is wealthy by Indian standards. Although here they would be considered upper middle class, there is not much of a middle class there. He was enrolled in an exclusive boys school as soon as he was born. At the age of four he started school which, like all schools there, required a uniform. At lunch time the household servant would bring him hot lunch, sit while he ate it, and carry the lunch container home. He took tennis and his sister took swimming and music lessons. He grew up not ever learning how to do things that most kids here learn from an early age: how to mow the lawn, fix a leaky faucet, drive a nail into the wall to hang a picture, clean up his room, dust, cook, maintain a car. His job was to study hard, and he did his job very well and with a lot of effort. He also had time for vacations, playing cricket in the street with friends, and buying as many books as he wanted to read for fun. When I married him he knew nothing about maintenance and he still struggles with simple things like yard work. He was born and raised to hire servants to do these things for him. I had a talk with a cousin of his who is working in the US temporarily. He said that in India it's easier to manage if you have a little money. For five cents you will have people lining up to do your work for you, because they are so poor. It is much more crowded there and there's just not enough to go around for the poor. Here if you offered someone money to hang a picture it had better be at least $20 or they will not think it's worth their time.

Today on NPR I heard a story about a girl named Neha, my daughter's middle name, selling candles near the Ganges for a living. She said she makes about 30 cents a day. Where is her childhood? When does she get a chance to play? When does she get a chance to sit in a classroom and learn to read, and learn about history and geography, eat her lunch at noon and play at recess for awhile? Is childhood a luxury that we feel our children are entitled to? In reality most of the children of the world work from a very young age. They learn a trade, they beg, they find odd jobs. they take care of their siblings, they are street smart. Whether that is a good thing or bad, or maybe a mixed bag, I feel that the children in our culture are given a childhood only because perhaps there's nothing else for them to do until they grow up. I am glad that my children are comfortable in life, I often wonder if they are not growing up as balanced as they would if they had an actual purpose in life-- if they felt needed not just by virtue of being alive, but because they play an essential role in the family and society. I wonder if some of the self-centeredness that many in our culture have arises from having their main childhood aspirations being to aquire the lastest toys, score the most goals, and make the best grades. I hope that this trip provides my daughters with a dose of reality-- not that they are really lucky because by the flip of the coin they were born outside of poverty, but that perhaps their lives are not as rich as they think they are. And that having a life of no responsibility for too long is just as harmful as having too much responsibility too soon.

Bathroom talk

On my first trip to India I was warned that toileting was something to get used to. I was prepared for a fancy hole in the ground and no toilet paper. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at my in-laws' house and found a modern western bathroom complete with a roll of toilet paper! I later found out that they had remodelled that bathroom with me in mind. How sweet.

My sister in law Kamini once confided that Indians think Americans are disgusting for wiping themselves with paper. "How can one truly get clean?" she asked? I agreed, although I had never thought about it until that moment.

So after my stock of toilet paper ran out I was determined to "go native." They had installed a hand sprayer with a head on it that is similar to what you find next to the kitchen sink in some houses. I learned the hard way to press down gently unless I wanted my entire backside blasted with a ricochet of water all over the tank and wall. I also learned the hard way to avoid using the toilet sprayer after early morning. You see, their house has a shallow well dug under it which they fill with water trucked in from the mountain. The local tap water is not supposed to be real clean. The pump on top of the well sends the water to pipes on the roof of the two-story house and then gravity pulls it down into the house and creates a siphon effect. Well, the metal water pipes sit there and bake in the Indian sun and if no one has used the water for awhile it flows straight into the little toilet sprayer and I get the full near-boiling hot water treatment. The alternate method is to keep a bucket full of water next to the toilet and use what looks like a large liquid measuring cup with a spout and handle to clean yourself. (I also preferred the bucket method of bathing-- same concept-- because of the hot pipes, if I bathed after early morning or learned to mix a little hot water in a bucket of cold. Yes it is possible to have a complete shower with just 2.5 gallons of water.)

On my tour of India I came across many bathrooms. Here are the ones I remember the most:

-- The paid bathroom outside a temple. It had a row of stalls with concrete floors that were sprinkled with bleach powder. Problem was, there was no actual toilet. Just a slanted floor with a small drain in one corner. We had to pee on the actual floor. I guess they didn't want people pooping in their bathrooms! There was no bucket and cup to wash with. Just a waist-high faucet sticking out of the wall. When one positioned one's posterior under the faucet hoping for a dribble to wash with, instead one was blasted with a shower-like spray at high water pressure. The intention was to wash the stall completely. It was with some amusement that I watched person after person emerge from the bathroom completely drenched. But it was so hot I think after we got over the embarrassment we were grateful for it.

-- The bathroom in someone's house in the village. It was a communal home with several large family areas and a central courtyard. It was put together hodge-podge with concrete, corrugated plastic and steel roofs, and a central bathroom for everyone. It had the traditional squat toilet but what it did not have was a flush or any running water. One was expected to pour the bucket down the toilet after doing one's business and then refilling the bucket for the next person.

-- The dirty hostel in Tirupati. There was some mix-up with our hotel so we were forced to stay at the hostel. The sheets were very much used, the floors were filthy and we laid newspaper down. There was this huge stainless steel drum of water sitting under a dripping tap. I could never get the tap to turn on past a drip so I was forced to use the water in the drum for toilet purposes. Who knows who else had used that water or what for? Even though we had hiked about 10 km up a mountain path and were sweaty, I chose not to take a bath. I know I sound prudish when so many in India don't have fresh water. But at the time I was just thinking that a Motel 6 sounded great.

-- The bathroom at my mother-in-law's sister's house. It was a standard family bathroom, but the thing was that my cousin-in-law had just taken a shower so the bathroom was all steamy. The pressboard door didn't shut very well so I pulled it shut tighter. I discovered that it was stuck tight and I was trapped in there and no amount of pushing could open the door. Finally someone noticed I was missing and they pulled then handle and got me out.

-- Saving the best for last. We were travelling through the countryside and I just had to use the bathroom. We stopped by a roadside tea stand and found a mud brick bathroom. The concrete floor was filthy with human waste. The toilet drained just to outside and down a shallow grade to a grassy field. The thing that really got me though, was that I was told by the tea stand owner to dip my own water before I went in, as there was no bucket. He pointed to a algea-green goat trough. Yeah, I survived that one too.

That being said, I'm sure that all but the last toilet were still a heck of a lot cleaner than a toilet at any Wal-Mart in the U.S.

I have been told that this time we are going to five star hotels because of Nitara's health needs, her need for clean water and an outlet to recharge her pump battery. In a way I think I will miss the adventure of roughing it. Almost.

Links:

http://www.pbase.com/jtodhunter/indian_toilet

http://www.everything2.com/index.pl?node_id=1314998

http://www.scottcarneyonline.com/blog/2007/02/ode-to-indian-half-toilet.html

http://www.talesofasia.com/toilets-rs.htm

http://www.cromwell-intl.com/toilet/

Around the world in 30 hours

We got the tickets!! As planned, we will be spending the month of June in India! Total time spent in air: 24 hours (not counting the Phoenix to LA trip). Total time from LA to India: 30 hours. Air miles from here to there: 10,429

We have to get ourselves to LA by our own means. We will leave in the middle of the night from LA, fly along the coast up past Alaska, over and down to Taipei, Taiwan. That leg of the trip isn't bad because we sleep for awhile. In Taipei we are all herded into a holding area that is cut off from the rest of the airport, contains hard plastic chairs, a drinking fountain, and a bathroom. No diversions like TV, music, or even watching people pass by, and it's pitch black so we can't even look out the windows. Then back on the plane to Kuala Lumpur. That leg of the trip, from LA to KL lasts 19.5 hours total, not including the Taipei stop.

Those 19 hours are going to be so incredibly long. Not only my fear of flying which I try to hide as best I can for the sake of the kids, but the boredom. No matter how well I pack the kids' bags, there is no way we can pack enough stuff to keep them entertained that long. We will just have to cope. I remember last time that I was very grateful for on board entertainment. Except that, even though the airplane has several channels, they all run on a loop of about 6 hours. So by 18 hours you have watched everything that's interesting, played all the games until you are sick of them, and you actually care a lot about the next bit of food they bring around because that's the one thing left that you haven't seen or done yet. The flight attendants, bless their hearts, try to keep everyone happy with food. They bring the regular meals and then they bring little snacks in between. You look forward and learn to savor as long as possible even if it's a little wedge of soft cheese and some crackers. You learn to spread it on there artfully because there's nothing else to do. There is constant food, and most of it is pretty decent. The only bad food was when I ordered Indian vegetarian meals our second trip. Ugh! The Western vegetarian meal is pretty good. Don't ever order the regular meals unless you like things like broiled eel. My poor husband got that on our first trip over. It's not surprise that he declared himself a vegetarian a week or so after that meal.

The bathrooms. Where shall I start. There is a big area in the middle of the plane and again at the end where there are about 6 bathrooms. There is a constant line to the bathrooms, especially right after movies end or after meals. A lot of people just don't care about cleaning up after themselves and as a result the floors are covered with wet papertowels, there are no clean papertowels anywhere, all the little amenities like mouthwash and toothbrushes and even cheap maxi pads are gone in 15 minutes. The sinks have to be depressed to be emptied and no one bothers. The trash bins are overflowing. Oh, and how could I forget the socks? They give everyone a pair of polyester disposable socks to wear. A lot of people coming from warm climates wear sandals and that high up, your feet get pretty cold. But it's a good idea to remember to remove the socks before you go into the bathrooms. Yep, I learned that the hard way.

We will land in Kuala Lumpur at around noon their time. The airport is very modern and shiny, lots of glass and metalwork (see photo above). There's an underground train which the girls will probably enjoy. Last time our layover was more than 12 hours so we were shuttled to a hotel and allowed to take a shower and rest. This time our layover will be 7 hours and so we will be stuck to pass the time in whatever way we can inside the airport. We may be able to take a bus tour or something if we can get a temporary visa. Maybe I should look into that. They might even have showers like the Singapore airport does and if so we will be doing that for sure. I always pack fresh underwear. Which works out great unless you have to dump your bag on a table for random inspection. Yep, learned about that one the hard way, too. About 1.5 hours before our flight we will be checked into another holding area. It's glass enclosed and once in, you can't go out again. Last time there were no bathrooms and 15 month old Abi chose that moment to produce a poopy diaper. Note to self: have Nitara wear Pull-Ups for the trip. We will travel 3.5 more hours to Chennai, India on a smaller plane. This leg of the trip has mostly Indians. They play Bollywood movies instead of American and Chinese movies. The trip is short but seems like forever because we are so ready to get off planes for awhile.

But wait! We are not done yet! Because after we get off the plane in India at around 10 or so at night their time (exactly 12.5 hours different from the time we came from in the States), we have to wait in a long, long, long line. (See black and white photo above). Get our luggage, hope it hasn't been tampered with, go through customs. Then outside is where we will see our family waiting for us. They always have to hire a taxi for our luggage because their own cars are too small to fit it all in, plus all the people who come to meet us. Writing this, I can almost hear the sounds of the cars beeping and the put-put of the autorickshaws, and feel the warm humid air on my skin. And I can also almost feel the sandpapery feeling on my eyeballs from the jet lag, the feeling of not quite being there, the joy at seeing my family and wanting to talk to them all night but knowing that they are tired and want to go to bed.

My dad has offered to house-sit. He and Diana might even move into our house if they decide to remodel their kitchen. Our cat and fish will be taken care of. We need to wait for Abi's passport to come (her old one expired), get Visas for Vignesh and Nitara, shop for gifts, write and rewrite lists of what to bring and what to do before we leave. Ten weeks until we leave!

I found this travel page by Sue Knight and was finding myself nodding in agreement at what she said. She writes,

The air was damp and heavy and there was a pervasive pungent smell in the airport lounge but ‘lounge’ did not really seem apt. No one seems to lounge much at this airport. We stood waiting and scanning the belt for our bags for an hour before we realised that most of the luggage from our flight had been taken off the conveyor belt almost immediately and was piled in a heap at the back of this arrivals hall. The clues about quality assurance or the lack of it were everywhere. Arriving in India was different from anywhere else that I had experienced. . . . The air in Chennai is toxic. The fumes from the two stroke mopeds seep through the open windows and even what might seem to be the tightly sealed air-conditioned vehicles. It gets in your clothes, your nose, your eyes, your ears, the pores of your skin. It is virtually impossible not to associate in Chennai. It is an assault of the senses. And I fell in love with it.

Driving

Driving in India is quite an adventure in itself! The photo at left is one I took on my last trip. It is amazing what kind of vehicles you find, and how drivers seem to defy the laws of gravity. I once saw a family of four on a standard bicycle: dad driving, mom sitting sidesaddle on the luggage rack holding a one-year-old in her lap, and also some grocery bags, and a 3 or 4 year old sitting on the handlebars. I have seen similar things with mopeds. The buses have so many passengers hanging on the outside windows nearest the street that they tilt wildly to one side.

Carseats are another issue. Last time I was there very few people used them. I got admonished by older relatives that Abi looked very uncomfortable in the carseat and would be happier on my lap. I could just hold her tight in an accident. I annoyed some family members when Abi took up a whole seat to herself when we were doing a caravan to some temples. Because of her, we needed to rent another car. My little nephew is now using that carseat that we left there. When we go this summer I plan to take Nitara's 5 point booster seat for him to use. He's a big kid and could probably use it by the time we get there. I am bringing Abi's seatbelt highback booster for Nitara to use because she is the right size for it now. I guess Abi will just sit in a regular seat. Something we are not going to try at home but for lack of space we can't bring 3 seats. I hope this visit brings more carseat sightings but I'm not holding my breath.

I have found these little tidbits from the web and none show any exaggeration. This is true representation of the Indian driving experience.

A website that has some good photos and funny observations about driving.

Here's a little video that shows a typical street in an Indian city. Crazy! Those little yellow cars are auto-rickshaws. You really do have to hold on for dear life!

Here's a street-level view of the same thing. Note heavy pollution.

Passing

Traffic Jams

Chennai specifically

The following item was extracted from the travel section of a UK daily newspaper:

Travelling in India is an almost hallucinatory potion of sound, spectacle and experience. It is frequently heart-rending, sometimes hilarious, mostly exhilarating, always unforgettable - and, when you are on the roads, extremely dangerous.

Most Indian road users observe a version of the Highway Code based on an ancient text. These 12 rules of the Indian road are published for the first time in English.

ARTICLE I The assumption of immortality is required of all road users.

ARTICLE II The following precedence must be accorded at all times. In descending order, give way to: cows, elephants, heavy trucks, buses, official cars, camels, light trucks, buffalo, Jeeps, ox-carts, private cars, motorcycles, scooters, auto-rickshaws, pigs, pedal rickshaws, goats, bicycles (goods- carrying), handcarts, bicycles (passenger-carrying), dogs, pedestrians.

ARTICLE III All wheeled vehicles shall be driven in accordance with the maxim: to slow is to falter, to brake is to fail, to stop is defeat. This is the Indian drivers’ mantra.

ARTICLE IV Use of horn (also known as the sonic fender or aural amulet): Cars(IV,1,a-c): Short blasts (urgent) indicate supremacy, ie in clearing dogs, rickshaws and pedestrians from path. Long blasts (desperate) denote supplication, ie to oncoming truck, “I am going too fast to stop, so unless you slow down we shall both die”. In extreme cases this may be accompanied by flashing of headlights (frantic). Single blast (casual) means “I have seen someone out of India’s 870 million whom I recognize”, “There is a bird in the road (which at this speed could go through my windscreen)” or “I have not blown my horn for several minutes.” Trucks and buses (IV,2,a): All horn signals have the same meaning, viz, “I have an all-up weight of approximately 12.5 tons and have no intention of stopping, even if I could.” This signal may be emphasized by the use of headlamps (insouciant). Article IV remains subject to the provision of Order of Precedence in Article II above

ARTICLE V All manoeuvres, use of horn and evasive action shall be left until the last possible moment.

ARTICLE VI In the absence of seat belts (which there is), car occupants shall wear garlands of marigolds. These should be kept fastened at all times.

ARTICLE VII Rights of way: Traffic entering a road from the left has priority. So has traffic from the right, and also traffic in the middle. Lane discipline(VII,1): All Indian traffic at all times and irrespective of direction of travel shall occupy the centre of the road.

ARTICLE VIII Roundabouts: India has no roundabouts. Apparent traffic islands in the middle of crossroads have no traffic management function. Any other impression should be ignored.

ARTICLE IX Overtaking is mandatory. Every moving vehicle is required to overtake every other moving vehicle, irrespective of whether it has just overtaken you. Overtaking should only be undertaken in suitable conditions, such as in the face of oncoming traffic, on blind bends, at junctions and in the middle of villages/city centres. No more than two inches should be allowed between your vehicle and the one you are passing - and one inch in the case of bicycles or pedestrians.

ARTICLE X Vaikuntha (heaven) may be obtained through the head-on crash.

ARTICLE XI Reversing: no longer applicable since no vehicle in India has reverse gear.