Ooty-liscious

Just to the north of Coonoor is India's "most famous hill station", Ooty. The official name for Ooty is Udhagamandalam. Like most Indian towns it seems, Ooty also has a British name that is no longer official but everyone still uses. For Ooty, that name is Ootacamund. Ooty it is.

Ooty is on a windy road further up into the Nilgiri Hills. The trip only takes about 45 minutes, assuming no mudslides or stubborn livestock on the road. Like anything in India, it's still a bit of an adventure as your driver navigates the many obstacles of Indian driving while maintaining an adequate safety buffer of sixteen inches from the edge of the road and a 400 foot roll to your excruciating death at the bottom of the hillside.

Ooty used to be a swanky British hill resort. While the setting is still beautiful, the city itself has grown into a fairly typical bustling Indian urban area. Despite that, Ooty is a nice break from the Wellington area and has a few additional shops and restaurants not available further down in the Hills.

Jeff, Jazna and Jose from Chile, me, and Alex from the UK at the Ooty Botanical Gardens

Fine Dining

(1 Jun) Another adjustment for me here in India is having a full-time cook working for me. Mary is a very conscientious worker, but this is the first time she's cooked for a Westerner, so there's been a bit of a learning curve for her. I try to have her mix in both Indian and American dishes so that I don't get bored of the same meals over and over. Unfortunately if I'm not specific in what I want, she sometimes has to guess at what suits an American palate. Case in point; one day my stomach was feeling a bit under the weather--actually, this pretty much describes your entire first three weeks in India. Anyway, when Mary asked what I wanted for dinner, I told her to just make a grilled cheese sandwich and some soup. Basic comfort foods, or so I thought. Having never been instructed as to what exactly a grilled cheese sandwich is, Mary decided to improvise. My expectation--bread...cheese...bread...grilled. Her execution--bread...cheese...tomatos...cucumbers...carrots...french fries (?)...and the coup de grace, peanut butter (?!). Needless to say, my American food orders have since become much more specific. Bon Appetit.

Home on the Strange

(20 May) After the arduous trek from Delhi to Wellington, I awoke on a Monday morning to explore my new surroundings in the daylight. I quickly met my new neighbors, the many macaque monkeys that roam the hills of Wellington. These monkeys were the inspiration for this blog and the pictures above and around the blog are of the monkeys which I see daily.

My new home is a three-bedroom house on the ground floor of a six-house apartment block. Being on the ground floor, I have the luxury of both a front and back yard, which are looked after by my faithful driver/gardener Pinto. He does a decent job for his lack of formal horticultural training, though sometimes his choices are a little puzzling. One day I came home to find that not only had he put a fresh coat of white paint on the front fence and bricks in the garden, he'd also thrown a coat on the bottom half of my tree. This is apparently a very British thing to do, and he seemed quite confused that I might not want a half-white tree...

Anyway, the house sits among many other student houses on Gorkha Hill, which is part of Wellington Cantonment. Wellington is nominally a military-only area, though there appear to be no actual fences and the wildlife and locals come and go as they please. Further down the hill is the village of Coonoor. Coonoor seems to be a typical Indian village with a bustling downtown market area and highly suspect sanitation standards.

All of this is set into the beautiful Nilgiri Hills of southern India in the state of Tamil Nadu. After the wretched heat of Delhi, I felt lucky to be spending my year in the cool climate and relative serenity of the Nilgiris. Welcome home.

The Road to Wellington

(19 May) After a sweltering week in Delhi, it was finally time to pack things up and head south to my home for one year, Wellington Cantonment. My flight was scheduled on Jet Air with a stop through Mumbai on the way to Coimbatore, the nearest airport to Wellington. Unfortunately, dust storms in Delhi had delayed air traffic and we departed Delhi about an hour late. This turned into a six-hour delay in Delhi since my connection from Mumbai came and went while I was still en route. The wait itself wasn't too bad--Jet Air put us up in their first-class lounge and provided food and drink until our new flight was ready to board. The downside turned out to be that the new flight was on Jet Air's budget airline, Jet Lite. Apparently the "lite" part of Jet Lite applies to many aspects of their service, but most notably leg room. The two hours from Mumbai to Coimbatore were spent with my knees pressed firmly into the flimsy tray table in front of me. I was happy to finally get off the plane in Coimbatore around 8 pm that evening. Thankfully, the Coimbatore airport is much less hectic than Delhi or Mumbai, and I quickly gathered my luggage and found my driver for the next year, Pinto, waiting to take me to my new home. Wellington is only about 90 km from Coimbatore, however, the ride takes about two and a half hours. The entire way is along a two-lane road that slowly winds itself up along numerous switchbacks and hairpin turns into the Nilgiri Hills of southern India. The whole stretch is clogged with huge Tata trucks which take up just a bit more than one whole lane of traffic. This causes the driver to leap-frog from truck to truck--speeding along until you're right behind the next truck--then flashing lights, honking, and swerving until you manage to find a semi-blind corner in which you can pass. In between truck passings (and sometimes during), you drift between lanes trying to avoid scooters, tuk-tuks, pedestrians, and the occasional livestock. This ride must be experienced to be believed. I think maybe I should give Pinto a raise... Anyway, just before midnight I made it to my new house on Gorkha Hill in Wellington--tired, dirty, and a bit disoriented--but ready to get settled in.

Hot Time in Delhi

(11 May) I arrived at Delhi's Indira Gandhi International Airport at 8 pm on a Sunday. I'd heard stories of India's formidable bureaucracy, and it looked like my first introduction to this phenomenon would be at the immigration line. At least two hundred arriving passengers were queued up to get into the country. Much to my surprise, the Embassy had sent an "expediter" who pulled me out of line, whisked me over to an empty immigration counter, and after a cursory glance at my passport, showed me to the baggage claim area. From there my baggage was collected and I was handed-off to the hotel driver who shoved me into a car and off we drove into the Delhi night headed for my five-star hotel. My week in Delhi was spent getting in-processed through the Embassy prior to heading south for school. May in Delhi is surely one of the most miserable places on Earth...110 degree temperatures, oppressive smog, dirt and dust everywhere, and at last count, 12 million or so sweaty Delhi residents teeming in the streets. It's not quite Hell, but the resemblance is striking. While in Delhi I also met up with the outgoing Staff College student (Mike) and the US Army family that would be attending Staff College with me this year (Jeff and Tera). Many beers were shared while discussing the adventure before us.

Despite the conditions, Delhi still had many ancient and interesting sights to see:

Entrance to the Jami Masjid--Jami Masjid, India's largest mosque--India Gate in New Delhi

Humayun's Tomb--Doorway in Humayun's Tomb--Isa Khan's Tomb

Qutb Minar, India's highest tower--Me in the ancient Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque--mosque detail

In and around the Red Fort

Common Delhi sights: Crowded streets in Chandni Chowk--Insane traffic--Stray Delhi dogs everywhere