Smile for the Camera

I've gotten quite good at shooting a picture of myself and someone else while holding my camera at arm's length. But I usually do not have to force the other subject to face the camera. As I did for this shot where Wallie was not getting the idea of looking at the camera. Not to mention the idea of smiling for the camera.

View Through the Window Screen

She Can Drive a Tractor

She  has driven a tractor. A tractor with a stick shift. I don't know, maybe they all have stick shifts. And also a big riding lawn mower. But she does not have a driver's license, and has not, to my knowledge, ever driven a car.

Sometimes Scary, Sometimes Pretty

Sometimes this gangway seems really creepy and gross to me, yet other times, it is not. Rather it becomes a place where a dancer might arabesque through it on point shoes.

My World Can Look Scary Too

Look, no windows.

Long way down.

You can look right in.

Crazy Dog

Crazy Wallie-Dog defies gravity.

Does Anyone Else Think This Looks Like Knitting?

Not the whole column of course, which is at Qutb Minar in Delhi, although taken, I believe, from a ruin of a Jain Temple. But the band at the bottom, which looks just like two rows of knitting to me, except that they are aligned with one another.

Back to Knitting

Before going to India,  I felt I should finish up some knitting projects in case I bought some yarn there. So I finished this project that I had been ignoring for years. Well I saw no yarn in India, or at least no yarn I wanted to knit with or wear. (Arylic with a metallic thread throughout for interest is not for me.) But I did see one knitted garment at the Besant Bazaar in Delhi that interested me: a stole with one sleeve in the middle. And that is my next project. I have started it with Koigu's beautiful KPPM yarn.

Good Advice About India

I think my favorite advice of all times came from a security officer in the Amsterdam airport. At the gate, just before boarding the plane to Delhi, there was one last security checkpoint. I held open my passport for the man standing at a kind of podium, he looked at me, then at the page with my picture, then at the page with the visa stamped in it.
"Your first trip to India?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Brace yourself."

Home for Girls in Delhi

One young girl asked me to draw her face. At first I thought she said fish, and I drew a fish. Once I understood, I became quite popular.

My skills from the old days of portrait-sketches-on-the-boardwalk came in handy.

My First Day in Delhi Without Alice

After three nearly sleepless nights in Delhi (jet lag could do this?), today, Monday, I was faced with the absence of Alice. Alice who speaks some Hindi, Alice who knows when to walk away from a ridiculous auto rickshaw price, Alice who knows were they make these really good dumplings and what they are called. Alice, who is not afraid of Delhi.

My plan for today was not an ambitious one: a jog in Lodi Gardens followed by lunch in Khan Market. And successfully negotiating transport to all points and back home. So at 9 am I set out walking to the nearest busy street, where I was surprised to have trouble finding an available auto rickshaw. So I started walking toward my destination, and after 15 minutes one came by. He stopped. I said "Lodi Gardens", he said "Lodi" followed by some word I could not catch, I repeated, he did the same, then on the third repeat, he finally chorused "Lodi Garden". So I asked kit na (how much) and he said 30 rupees. I felt flattered by the 30 he suggested as I did not feel he was driving up the price for me. He deposited me there, and I found the lovely packed-clay jogging path. I jogged this way and that, turned around if I found myself coming up to the road, backtracked plenty, and mostly tried to stick to that nice surface and avoid the flagstone paths. Forty five minutes later I decided good enough, and wondered which way might be north and the direction of Khan Market. Sivandar Lodi was the monument that would serve as my landmark for this end of the gardens, but all the monuments confused me without markings. So I choose a distinguished-looking gentleman and asked which way this monument might be, and he pointed out that we were standing right at it.

So I got oriented and headed toward the main gate at the street, where I immediately was offered an auto rickshaw to Khan Market for 20 rupees. Sounded like a deal to me. The driver pulled into the market and dropped me off in front of a stationary store.

And the first thing I saw was a basket of the wood cuts originally used to print designs on fabric, an object I have long desired to possess! I pawed through the basket until I had seen every single one and chose three to buy.

I ate, browsed in the book store, and could have bought sleeping pills marked "prescription only" at the Chemist, and did not.

And I made it back to Alice's flat successfully.