The Dogs of India

In the U.S., the cows dream of one day living in India. In India, the dogs dream of one day living in the U.S. Life is rough here for a dog. Centuries of heat, famine and harsh treatment have whittled the Indian dog down to a standard, medium-sized, short-haired mongrel breed. They are lean, alert and fast on their feet. If they aren't, they get killed off right away. The traffic alone can be lethal. Much as I love my dogs back home, I don't think they would last 10 minutes out here. In spite of all this, Indian dogs are rarely aggressive, and often friendly (no doubt hoping for a handout like everyone else). I don't think there's a lot of spaying or neutering going on around here. Outside of a breeding kennel, when was the last time you saw a male dog walking around with its balls intact? Well, here they are a common sight, bouncing proudly under their owners' upraised tails. Come to think of it, maybe American dogs DON'T have all the luck!

The Ubiquitous Auto-Rickshaw

Next to motorcycles (and walking), auto-rickshaws are the most common mode of transportation in India. These diminutive vehicles are sort of a cross between a motorcycle and a golf cart. The basic design is the same all over the country, though the colors will vary (this is my fave, yellow with a black vinyl top). The rickshaw drivers like to customize their rides, with paint, decals, and the ever-popular Ganesh statue on the dash. If you don't mind the noise and exhaust fumes, it's a serviceable way to get around town. The fares, however, can be problematic. Rickshaw drivers keep their meters switched off and covered, preferring to set prices on a case-by-case basis. Bad news for me, a white guy, who tends to get charged at a rate 2 to 3 times higher than the locals. The rickshaws that frequent the big hotels and tourist areas are most likely to over-charge. On the other hand, on the occasions when I've flagged a rick in a quiet residential area, I've found the drivers to be quite fair and the prices reasonable. Experience has taught me it's best to agree upon a fare before climbing in.

The Amazing Ritchie Street

Our quest for obscure computer and video components led us to Ritchie Street here in Chennai. Ritchie Street is actually several streets, an entire district devoted to electronics. Prakash and Baran were my guides. Our quarry: a spare battery for our digital camera. A photograph really can't convey the sheer density of this place. Just crossing the street from one shop to the next is a challenge in itself. Add to that the heavy rains we received this morning, making big aromatic puddles everywhere, and you've got yourself quite a shopping experience. That said, Ritchie Street has just about any electronics or electrical component you could ask for. The range of merchandise isn't obvious at first. You have to get in there and tell the shopkeepers what you're looking for. Sooner or later someone will reach into a dark corner and pull it out for you. Or else they'll send their boy out to retrieve it from another shop down the way. A little patience is richly rewarded. We got our battery. Now we just need a voltage stabilizer.

A Brief Visit to Vizag

On Monday, Chakri, Rob and I flew to Chakri's hometown of Vizag. Vizag is a local nickname; if you're looking for it on a map, look for Visakhapatnam, on the coast of Andhra Pradesh. Chakri has always described Vizag as a sleepy little seaside-town sort of place. Compared to some Indian cities this is true, but Vizag is a booming city of 1 million people (and counting), with industries ranging from steel to natural gas to IT. Still, compared to mega-cities like Mumbai or Hyderabad, Vizag is positively bucolic. I took a photo from my hotel room a block from the beach. This is the Bay of Bengal. Take a look at those waves. They are going unridden, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Hard to believe. The locals have zero interest in ocean swimming, let alone wave riding. Perhaps it has something to do with the abundance of jellyfish in these warm waters.