On the roof
18 May 2005
Hotel Astoria, Calcutta
Can't sleep. Again. I'm up on the roof of the hotel, listening to crows. A murder of crows, right? The sound is coming from every direction, though, so it must be a few murders.
Periodically, a dog will bark. Every other dog in Calcutta wakes up, hears the sound, and joins in the barking.
It's hard to write about the work we do. I'm used to writing the funny, and so much of what what we're doing just isn't. But then a lot of it is, too.
I've been working at Prem Dan in the mornings. It's a long-term care facility for chronically ill patients. Most of them are quite old, but there are a few as young as teenagers.
For the first two days there were only a few volunteers. There was a lot to be done: laundry, serving food, feeding those unable to feed themselves, washing dishes... Then a few teams of large Americans showed up. They're very eager. And perky. And very American*. They go to a private Christian college and just ooze Christian culture.
I try to stay out of their way.
I've spent the past few mornings sitting with a crazy lady. The crazy ones gravitate to me. Actually, I think I gravitate towards them.
At first I thought she was fully nuts, but now I doubt it. She can't speak, not that that stops her. She talks more than I do, but it all gibberish. I mean not my sort of gibberish, but the sort that's not even made up of words. I think she's in there. Like, she's stuck inside her head, perfectly sane, but unable to communicate anything more complex than a frown, a laugh, a slap.
And I think she understands English.
Most of the patients don't. They speak to us in Bengali and then laugh hysterically when we fail to understand. They think we are the stupidest thing ever.
One woman speaks to me, endlessly repeating the same sentences. Eventually, I repeat stuff back to her. She nods, clearly pleased with herself and with my progress. Then she'll ask me a question. When I smile and shrug, she turns to the other patients, laughing and shaking her head.
It's nearly five a.m., time to get ready for the day. I should go back down to my room.
The sun is up now. I wanted to take a picture of the sunrise, but there wasn't one. The world just gradually became lighter over the course of the last hour. I still can't tell which way is east.
* Why is it that if you meet one American, he/she'll be a sensible, rational person, but where there are teams of them they become loud, abrasive, opportunistic, naive idealists? Maybe it's just the mentality of those Americans who choose to travel in teams, 'doing good' all around the world...
Hotel Astoria, Calcutta
Can't sleep. Again. I'm up on the roof of the hotel, listening to crows. A murder of crows, right? The sound is coming from every direction, though, so it must be a few murders.
Periodically, a dog will bark. Every other dog in Calcutta wakes up, hears the sound, and joins in the barking.
It's hard to write about the work we do. I'm used to writing the funny, and so much of what what we're doing just isn't. But then a lot of it is, too.
I've been working at Prem Dan in the mornings. It's a long-term care facility for chronically ill patients. Most of them are quite old, but there are a few as young as teenagers.
For the first two days there were only a few volunteers. There was a lot to be done: laundry, serving food, feeding those unable to feed themselves, washing dishes... Then a few teams of large Americans showed up. They're very eager. And perky. And very American*. They go to a private Christian college and just ooze Christian culture.
I try to stay out of their way.
I've spent the past few mornings sitting with a crazy lady. The crazy ones gravitate to me. Actually, I think I gravitate towards them.
At first I thought she was fully nuts, but now I doubt it. She can't speak, not that that stops her. She talks more than I do, but it all gibberish. I mean not my sort of gibberish, but the sort that's not even made up of words. I think she's in there. Like, she's stuck inside her head, perfectly sane, but unable to communicate anything more complex than a frown, a laugh, a slap.
And I think she understands English.
Most of the patients don't. They speak to us in Bengali and then laugh hysterically when we fail to understand. They think we are the stupidest thing ever.
One woman speaks to me, endlessly repeating the same sentences. Eventually, I repeat stuff back to her. She nods, clearly pleased with herself and with my progress. Then she'll ask me a question. When I smile and shrug, she turns to the other patients, laughing and shaking her head.
It's nearly five a.m., time to get ready for the day. I should go back down to my room.
The sun is up now. I wanted to take a picture of the sunrise, but there wasn't one. The world just gradually became lighter over the course of the last hour. I still can't tell which way is east.
* Why is it that if you meet one American, he/she'll be a sensible, rational person, but where there are teams of them they become loud, abrasive, opportunistic, naive idealists? Maybe it's just the mentality of those Americans who choose to travel in teams, 'doing good' all around the world...
this is the word of sic @
10:57
7 Comments:
You are smart to avoid the groups of Americans, or any Westerners for that matter....my husband and I always do when we are traveling. It just makes the whole thing more enjoyable without the herds of sheep around.
We only do the tour things if there is absolutely no way for us to get to someplace another way (meaning alone). It seems though, that in the few "tours" we have had to succumb to, they have been groups of either Chinese or Japanese. I only speak a tiny bit of Japanese and no Chinese so the fact that no one talked to us made the "group" thing tolerable.
Sounds like we are awful elites or something, but we really just like experiencing stuff on our own without a lot of hoopla and time schedules.
By
..., at 8:56 a.m.
"I still can't tell which way is east."
I duuno why, but this line seems really sad.
By
Joe, at 10:04 a.m.
it is better to avoid big groups of tourists. on the other hand, travelling alone can get pretty... well, lonely at times.
sounds like tough work. but then i suppose it would be. is it stating the obvious to suggest that calcutta, like other areas of the indian subcontinent, suffers from pretty crippling poverty?
oh by the way, the archaeology babe's london hosts are interested to learn when you are getting back to london?
By
Anonymous, at 2:44 p.m.
You'll sleep soon. You'll find a way. It might take you a couple weeks to figure out how many blankets you need to sleep with and in which position you're comfortable in that bed...
Sleep is a very fickle thing. Your mind is processing too much!!
And it's producing some very fine entries. Keep on truckin!!
By
Lady, at 11:48 p.m.
You are in the east, the sun rises in the east, therefore, you are in the sun - you cannot see the whale if you are in the belly of the whale. (sitting back, inordinately pleased about this explanation). My personal suggestion on spicing things up with the patients is to point at yourself and very slowly enunciate: S-H-I-V-A. I am S-H-I-V-A.
By
Balázsy András, at 1:27 a.m.
Mishka: Smart. I'm with you. Reminds me though, the (literal) sheep caused a traffic jam on our street yesterday. I'll post pictures when I have a chance to upload.
Digitalicat: Whoever said I was a not-stupid?
ATLHA: Check your e-mail.
Maria: Probably just in time to fly out of here on Sunday morning.
Pig: I do believe you're right. We are in the sun here. That explains a lot.
By
sic, at 5:40 a.m.
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By
Anonymous, at 3:36 a.m.
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