12-26-08 evening

Around noon, we ventured forth from our hotel room. Our final destination was the not-so-distant beach, but it required walking quite a number of blocks. Along the way, we stopped at The Mobile Store to try and purchase a cell phone and internet service. The salesman was very helpful and relatively easy to understand despite his accent. However, the process was more complicated than we had expected and we were told we had to return with a passport, a photocopy of said passport, and a passport sized photo. Undiscouraged, we decided to return the following day, thinking one day would hardly make a difference, and continued on towards the beach.
Walking beside the street, or in the street itself when the sidewalk is non-existent, covered in rubble, or blocked by a large tree or street vendor, is a very different experience than in the US. Auto-Rickshaw drivers harass foreigners in the hopes of outrageously overcharging them for a short ride; vehicles make as much noise as possible, honking at every opportunity and creating opportunities if they do not present themselves often enough. The variety of horns heard on the streets of Chennai is quite incredible, from the high-pitched, squeaky toot of a rickshaw to the low, loud, bellow of a bus. Even a boy on his bicycle rang his bell because he lacked anything more substantial. The streets are quite dirty – there were even the occasional human feces – but I had been warned and, while I was extremely grateful for my shoes, it did not bother me overmuch. Because the ocean nearby blows steady breezes through the city, smells do not hang on the air for long. If a smell becomes overpowering, holding your breath for ten seconds and continuing forward usually solves the problem.
There are not a huge number of beggars on the streets of Chennai, but their presence certainly brings down my mood. I wish I could help all of them, but that is impossible. I have decided to save my funds for hungry children. There was a lot of litter on the beach and the water is polluted from oil tankers, so you cannot swim in it. But I dipped my feet in, which was lovely, and the sea breeze blew away the headache-inducing smells of pollution. (Fortunately, the pollution has not affected my health yet and my asthma has not flared up. This was a major worry of mine. As Chennai is one of the more polluted cities we will be visiting, I am quite hopeful that I will not get shipped back to the States, puffing on my inhaler all the way.)
The food is delicious. I cannot get enough of it. Mom is carefully avoiding peppers and oil because they make her sick, which limits the variety of food for her. But I have totally disregarded all my food allergies in my enthusiasm for trying new things (I usually don’t know exactly what I’m ordering) and so far I have not gotten sick.
I was warned several times that, upon arriving in India, I would go into shock. I considered writing that this did not happen in the last post, but did not want to jinx it and thought that it might change once I actually walked around a bit outside our walled and guarded hotel. But it didn’t happen. I have slipped into the life of a traveler of India with surprising ease, although it did take me three tries to tie my sari.