As we get closer to Pondy the sides of the roads begin to be filled with higher concentrations of people and dwellings.
Sometimes I catch sight of a little home in a shady clearing whose sweetness just takes my breath away -- a lovingly cared for little pastel place with prominent stairs leading to the walled rooftop terrace. Beautiful flowered plantings about the yard. Maybe someone sitting on the main steps. It just looks so welcoming.
And then a mile down the road is a new four story apartment building which had been built and plastered and painted and roofed, and then abandoned. Open holes where the windows were to go, skinny ladies of indeterminate age squatting in the window openings, obviously moved in for the duration.
A thought flashes -- when the owner comes back to finish the building, when his financial future improves, will he be able to remove or cover the smells of humans -- of living and cooking and peeing and babies and goats -- from the concrete of the structure? Or will his profits be reduced because he had to abandon construction for a while?
Bad girl! Always the Capitalist!
Showing posts with label Pondy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pondy. Show all posts
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Chennai to Pondy (Part 4)
The drive reminded me somewhat of my childhood in the US South of the 1960's, where the heat and humidity were visible in the air, and trees spread their arms across the road, and people moved slowly.
Driving through those dusty backroads you would be met with billboards painted on barnwalls for Purina animal feeds or local wholesale tobacco markets.
The rural area between Chennai and Pondy is also papered edge to edge with advertisements. And for products I'd never think to advertise. Huge ads for plywood fight for space with electrical cable ads and concrete and cement ads. These were also in Hyderabad and Chennai, so I guess they came with the IT boom.
Every small shop in the villages we pass has a poster on its exterior wall for Airtel and / or Vodaphone mobile phone companies. Airtel and Vodaphone plaster farm buildings and other structures with sign after sign after sign. It seems that even people who have no wired electricity or running water, have a cell phone.
The political signs also carry out into the countryside. While the signs in Hyderabad are predominantly pink, in this state the ruling party prefers yellow-tan. The signs are tall, vertical, showing the politician standing and garlanded, and smiling right at you. Sometimes it's just a big head with that serious yet smiling person - hoping to exude competence, fairness, and concern for YOU and YOUR LIFE. These ads are actually quite creepy to an outsider, and give me a sense of Big Brother. The pink and the yellow and the garlands (which are often draped around gods in temples) make me wonder if the underlying intent is to deify the politicians.
Hmmmm.
Driving through those dusty backroads you would be met with billboards painted on barnwalls for Purina animal feeds or local wholesale tobacco markets.
The rural area between Chennai and Pondy is also papered edge to edge with advertisements. And for products I'd never think to advertise. Huge ads for plywood fight for space with electrical cable ads and concrete and cement ads. These were also in Hyderabad and Chennai, so I guess they came with the IT boom.
Every small shop in the villages we pass has a poster on its exterior wall for Airtel and / or Vodaphone mobile phone companies. Airtel and Vodaphone plaster farm buildings and other structures with sign after sign after sign. It seems that even people who have no wired electricity or running water, have a cell phone.
The political signs also carry out into the countryside. While the signs in Hyderabad are predominantly pink, in this state the ruling party prefers yellow-tan. The signs are tall, vertical, showing the politician standing and garlanded, and smiling right at you. Sometimes it's just a big head with that serious yet smiling person - hoping to exude competence, fairness, and concern for YOU and YOUR LIFE. These ads are actually quite creepy to an outsider, and give me a sense of Big Brother. The pink and the yellow and the garlands (which are often draped around gods in temples) make me wonder if the underlying intent is to deify the politicians.
Hmmmm.
Chennai to Pondy (Part 3)
We sped past Christian churches -- many Catholic, many Pentecostal -- topped with a cross and done up in Indian-style decorations and colors.
If speeding is what it's called -- it felt like speeding, though I think it was only 90 kph -- beep, beep and passing the auto-ricks and the motorcycles and the crowded ECR buses.
As a means of speed control, the authorities have placed 'gates' across the road. A wall will be across the lane(s) on our side and then another wall will be across the oncoming lane(s) in thirty more feet, which requires us to slow down to an almost-stop and zig zag (gulp!) around the walls into oncoming lanes and back, taking order following some road courtesy algorithm that I haven't been able to decipher yet.
We sped through areas where tidal marshes crossed under the road and shallow water spread out on the right, and white sea birds soared, where traditional salt-making operations were in full swing, ladies in saris the color of tropical flowers bending over the ground as far as the eye can see, doing what they do to extract salt from water.
We sped past bus stops under large shade trees, seemingly in the middle of no where, where dozens of people stood waiting for their ride.
We sped past walled planned developments laid out in Western style grids, streets paved, central front gates locks, weeds growing up through the groundwork of someone's failed Big Idea.
If speeding is what it's called -- it felt like speeding, though I think it was only 90 kph -- beep, beep and passing the auto-ricks and the motorcycles and the crowded ECR buses.
As a means of speed control, the authorities have placed 'gates' across the road. A wall will be across the lane(s) on our side and then another wall will be across the oncoming lane(s) in thirty more feet, which requires us to slow down to an almost-stop and zig zag (gulp!) around the walls into oncoming lanes and back, taking order following some road courtesy algorithm that I haven't been able to decipher yet.
We sped through areas where tidal marshes crossed under the road and shallow water spread out on the right, and white sea birds soared, where traditional salt-making operations were in full swing, ladies in saris the color of tropical flowers bending over the ground as far as the eye can see, doing what they do to extract salt from water.
We sped past bus stops under large shade trees, seemingly in the middle of no where, where dozens of people stood waiting for their ride.
We sped past walled planned developments laid out in Western style grids, streets paved, central front gates locks, weeds growing up through the groundwork of someone's failed Big Idea.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Chennai to Pondy (Part 2)
The two-lane ECR road was in sight of the bay for almost the entire drive from Chennai to Pondy -- about 2.5 hours. There were indeed some very nice looking resorts sparkling along the waterfront, set far back from the road.
And there were a few nice housing developments -- a single lane perpendicting from ECR straight down a slight incline to the waterfront, new two and three story Indian style concrete houses with carports and rooftop terraces, painted in a cheery mix of pastel colors (mint-green-and-lavender, terra-cotta-and-sky-blue). Some developments had gates -- the resorts had guards in uniforms, manning their tall, white gates surrounding by lush green lawns.
We wove through countless small villages holding a temple, a couple of shops and houses in various levels of affluence and decay, thin, wizened people walking along the road or across a field, or standing in line at the little shops, never a stoplight in view.
Sometimes a large temple would have huge clunky statues, two-story tall gods sitting on Weeble-esque horses. And sometimes the temples were loud, blasting pre-recorded sermons through PA systems so the entire village -- and maybe the next one too -- could hear it in their hot, trying lives, and maybe would think WWKD or WWGD throughout the day.
Sometimes a single dwelling -- could be 6000 square feet with shiny gold tile roof, could be single room concrete house with roof top terrace, could be a blue tarp and bamboo tent -- would be sitting alone on the side of the road.
The majority of the land was simply empty. You might spot some livestock grazing, or some walking trails, or just empty fields of scrub grass.
With the blue of the sparkling water in the distance, stretching off to infinity.
And there were a few nice housing developments -- a single lane perpendicting from ECR straight down a slight incline to the waterfront, new two and three story Indian style concrete houses with carports and rooftop terraces, painted in a cheery mix of pastel colors (mint-green-and-lavender, terra-cotta-and-sky-blue). Some developments had gates -- the resorts had guards in uniforms, manning their tall, white gates surrounding by lush green lawns.
We wove through countless small villages holding a temple, a couple of shops and houses in various levels of affluence and decay, thin, wizened people walking along the road or across a field, or standing in line at the little shops, never a stoplight in view.
Sometimes a large temple would have huge clunky statues, two-story tall gods sitting on Weeble-esque horses. And sometimes the temples were loud, blasting pre-recorded sermons through PA systems so the entire village -- and maybe the next one too -- could hear it in their hot, trying lives, and maybe would think WWKD or WWGD throughout the day.
Sometimes a single dwelling -- could be 6000 square feet with shiny gold tile roof, could be single room concrete house with roof top terrace, could be a blue tarp and bamboo tent -- would be sitting alone on the side of the road.
The majority of the land was simply empty. You might spot some livestock grazing, or some walking trails, or just empty fields of scrub grass.
With the blue of the sparkling water in the distance, stretching off to infinity.
Chennai to Pondy (Part 1)
We drove south on the East Coast Road (ECR) with the water on our left, passing through Mahabalipuram. I had been encouraged by various folks to stop in and take a look at this or that oceanfront resort on my way as they are very luxurious along this stretch, but as we were driving down this long straight highway (with minimal, by Indian standards, traffic) we continued to weave in and out around the lonely auto rickshaw or motorcycle.
And I found myself having a feeling I haven't had since I was a pre-teen -- car sick. Yep, I was one of those kids who (before the kids-must-sit-in-the-back-seat-and-be-harnessed-in-like-Clydesdales-on-the-Bud-truck laws) was always allowed to sit in the front seat, otherwise any trip over twenty minutes in length would result in the dreaded car sickness.
I almost didn't recognize the symptoms, and initially thought I'd eaten something taboo… perhaps a slice of fruit at the Sheraton that had been washed in (gasp!) tap water. :-o
But then I came to my (gulp) senses, and started drinking lots of water and gazing through our car windows at the sights all around. Praying for us to reach Pondy soon!
And I found myself having a feeling I haven't had since I was a pre-teen -- car sick. Yep, I was one of those kids who (before the kids-must-sit-in-the-back-seat-and-be-harnessed-in-like-Clydesdales-on-the-Bud-truck laws) was always allowed to sit in the front seat, otherwise any trip over twenty minutes in length would result in the dreaded car sickness.
I almost didn't recognize the symptoms, and initially thought I'd eaten something taboo… perhaps a slice of fruit at the Sheraton that had been washed in (gasp!) tap water. :-o
But then I came to my (gulp) senses, and started drinking lots of water and gazing through our car windows at the sights all around. Praying for us to reach Pondy soon!
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