What is happening?

 Not even I am sure.

      I wake up every morning in a cold sweat. That is in the air
conditioning.  I rise, pop a handful of pills, and gather my things.
Then off for breakfast.  Walking out the door, I already see women
washing clothing in the street, men reading newspaper and spitting red
tobacco.  Crossing the street is exciting: avoiding motorbikes and
rickshaws, and the stray cow.  The kebabs have already been cooking on
the grills at little stands, and men and children are wheeling carts
stocked full of fresh vegetables to the market.

   We arrive at the marble-floored home in Jamalpur, the muslim
district of town we are staying in. We slip off our shoes and enter to
greetings, chai tea, and the smell of eggs frying.  Some toast and jam
as well, and we slip out for the day's first rickshaw ride.
 All five of us pile in the back of one little open-air indian taxi
that takes us across town.  Weaving in and out of people, bikes, and
other cars, the traffic in India is much like a game of Mariocart, but
there is no open space.  The driver is very forward, and uses the horn
twice as much as the break. This ride, around ten minutes long, costs
only 15 rupees (there are 40 rupees to a dollar).

   Work consists of computer work, along with keeping a tempermental
boss, Mr. Johwer, happy.  The NGO I am working for has won a
prestigious award, it was titled the best small NGO in west India for
2007. Yesterday, the United States Consul General came to the office
to congratulate the staff and pay a visit. The American Interns got a
private meeting with him, and I sweet-talked Michael Owens (the man
himself) into setting up a meeting for the Americans in his office in
Mumbai (formerly bombay).
   In a few weeks we are taking a weekend to Mumbai to see the city and
network with other NGO's.  As a secondary mission to our journey in
India, we are networking with NGO's, trying to send more American
volunteers to this beautiful country through the IndoAmerican
Volunteers Network (which we founded this year at wes!).  However,
the monsoon season is supposed to start around this weekend, so we
will see how successful the trip is. Apparently it stops cities in
their tracks, and everyone stays indoors.

  We recently changed neighborhoods from Paldi (a mostly Hindu area) to
Jamalpur (a Muslim area).  Living with Mr. Johwer proved too
difficult. While the living arrangements were fine, the quarters were
a little close and Johwer is a strong personality to experience at
work and at home.

   So we moved into Nadeem's family's guest house.  It is a much busier,
congested area, and feels much more alive. We have the whole house to
ourselves, and will cook and have a great time. There is a rooftop
patio where you can see 360 degrees of the city; it is stunning.  The
other morning I awoke early and watched the sunrise; it came up over a
mosque in the distance that was announcing the first call to prayer.
Many of the city's inhabitants sleep on the rooftops; it is much cooler
in the open air than it is inside.


I must run, but tonight we are going to a resturant that has a rifle
club in the back.  What an unusual combination!