First Impressions

12/01

The hospitality of the people I’ve met so far has been amazing, I feel like I’ve been handed from family to family! Also, I’ve been so busy there’s been no time to write, and now is 1130pm on the 4th night here.

I flew into Chennai after an interesting time in Bangkok rickshaw-ing about looking at gilded Buddhist temples. Mr Khader (Khaa-der) - the main co-ordinator for the Dhan foundation here in Nillakottai- had kindly organized for me to stay with the Santhanam family (who Jean usually stays with when she flies into India). …more on each person, the Dhan foundation and Karunai Illam later.

So, I had their number, their address, a phone (with about $20NZ credit left) and a pre-paid taxi. Organized eh! I thought so…… Even if this was finalized only 10 minutes before I caught the last flight.

At 11:45pm, and being a foreign woman, after customs I had two ‘taxi helpers’ come and start carrying my bag and herding me around. Into the queue for the taxi’s, which were some sort of heavy, nifty car from the 60’s. My driver was friendly, confidently looked at the address and we hooned off into the night, passing by throngs of people (all men) waiting around at the airport, piled up on trucks, and having a quiet smoke under half finished overhead bypasses and the odd ruin. Unlike Thailand, who’s super modern new airport comes out onto a long motorway with relentless, huge billboards on both sides; driving into Chennai was like passing through a never ending village. The busy countryside, with some traditional thatched roofs and palms, slowly turning into a constant suburban shopping centre. In Bangkok, closer to the city there were what seemed like the remnants of an old city outskirts lifestyle, now thatching itself around and under the motorways, with convenient billboard street lighting. In Chennai there are huge trees on the streets- taller than the buildings- a large number painted with black and white stripes as road markings, and occasionally with a cats eye embedded. The road was bordered by dust footpaths leading up to a mix of one and two storey houses and corrugated iron fronted shops. Most neat and cute and some in various states of ruin.

And so commenced my first, and only so far, travel drama. Mr Taxi Driver didn’t know where the suburb Vellacherry was (a Christian suburb by the way), so we had to stop quite a few times and ask the odd guy still on the street at midnight. Slowly we seemed to hone in on the right place. After more driving multiple phone calls to Mr Khader and the Santhanam’s were made. With them also ringing me to talk to the driver, my credit was soon gone. So he made a call and briefly confidence was restored until again he stopped to ask directions. Then HIS credit was gone, so I was starting to feel a bit stuck, contemplating a night driving around with frustrated (and possibly drunk?) taxi guy (now about 12:20). As my cell phone could no longer receive calls (costs $$), Mr Santhanam and his son Aditya came to the rescue by ringing the driver, they guessed it was his number when he had tried to ring them before. So more directions and a few turns were made….. then there was another stop, a nice wide leafy dusty road under the full moon, taxi guy was off again to ask some guy down the road where he was. Slowly from another direction a man walked tentatively towards the car…… and yay it was Aditya! So yelling down the other street to call the driver back and I was finally dropped off.

Mrs Sumati Samthanam, Aditya and his cousin Ashwarya welcomed me into their house. Through a tall iron gate, taking shoes off on the stone steps, into a tiled floored lounge, I was offered sweet milky Indian tea and we chatted for sometime about our respective backgrounds until bed.