Farewell Dinner meeting-Friday February 3, 2017

After the eight-and-a-half hour trip from Anandpur Sahib to Delhi, stopping along the way for snacks and lunch, we arrived at our hotel - the Royal Plaza on Ashoka Road, and checked into our rooms, with enough time to shower and change our clothes, and meet again in the lobby, to be driven to the India Heritage Center for a dinner meeting with the Rotary Club of Delhi-Megapolis.

It was a Farewell Dinner because about eight of our team was departing that night to return home to Nevada, California and Arizona. At dinner, each one of the team had an opportunity to share their experiences and the highlights of the trip with the club members, their spouses and a few guests.  It was wonderful to hear these special and poignant moments, some of which we had not witnessed and we were grateful for this opportunity.  Even Vikram and Sumothy Lodhi, the owners of the resort where we stayed while in Anandpur Sahib, rose to tell the local ROTARIANS how they were so pleased to meet all of us and to have been able to get to know us and to actually participate in the dam builds.

We also enjoyed the tradition of swapping club banners and then adjourned to share fellowship and dinner.  While I was speaking with Sumothy, some how one of us mentioned the names of Yogesh and Deepak Sikand, and I indicated they had been my hosts back in 2003 and Sumothy said that Yogesh and Deepak were the only ROTARIANS she knew!!!   What a small world!

Taking a bit of a Breather - Free Time - February 4

Well after a great week of working - with the NID on Sunday and then traveling to Anandpur Sahib for the work project, and the long, long ride back to Delhi,  a Farewell Dinner with the Rotary Club of Delhi -Megapolis the night before, we had a free day - some members went on a tour of Old Delhi, touring the largest Mosque, the Red Fort, the old market and Humayum's Tomb. Five of the team went off to tour The Taj Mahal in Agra. My grandson and I went to visit with the couple who had hosted me when I led the Group Study Exchange Team to India in 2003 - Deepak and Yogesh Sikand.  It was wonderful to catch up with them, and we were pleased to meet Yog's 99 year old father, who joined us for tea in the garden.  He was pleased to meet John, and said he was looking forward to his 100th!!! Following tea, Yog and Deepak took us to the rear gate of their property and then across the narrow street, to show us the Ugrasen ki Baoli - a step well constructed hundreds of years ago.  We had a wonderful visit with them and then Yog drove John and me to Connaught Place, where we enjoyed Maharaja Burgers at McDonald's!!! Then John and I walked back to our hotel.  About one hundred yards before we reached the hotel, a jolly looking man stood up from his seat On the sidewalk and spoke to me, calling me by name.  His name is Mr. Singh and he owns several Tuk-tuks (the motorized Rickshaws) and some taxi cabs.  I remembered him from the past two years, once he spoke, but certainly did not expect him to call me by name.  

Later in the afternoon, John (aka J. T.) went with me to have dinner with Sanjiv Saran's daughter, Pallavi Saran Gujral, and her little two year old daughter, Saroya. Pallavi was kind enough to send a car to our hotel to drive us to her home, on the other side of the city.  I had a bit of a mission, as well, to find and purchase some specific fabric for my church at home and Pallavi said there was a wonderful place very near her home, called Nehru Place, where there are literally hundreds of shops and stores which just sell fabric!!! Who knew??? We stopped at only one shop and found exactly what I was looking to purchase and we bought 30 meters of it to bring home. 

Dinner with Pallavi and Saroya was lots of fun, catching up on past years. After the horrible tsunamis in December 2004, the following year, Pallavi came to the USA, and stayed with us for several weeks that summer, and helped us to raise funds for tsunami relief projects, which we used to pay for fifty of one hundred homes which were built for some of the survivors of the tsunamis south of Chennai, on the east coast.  When Pallavi stayed with us at the lake cottage, J.T. was her daily wake-up call, and she enjoyed reminiscing about those times. Saroya enjoyed playing peekaboo and chasing J.T. around the living room. We said goodbye and returned to the hotel.  Early to bed for an early departure in the morning.

Domestic travel in India... February 5, 2017

Took a few days to chew on this, but finally decided to fill in those interested in how it CAN be while traveling in India, using the domestic airport in Delhi.

Our entire team, those remaining who did not take off Friday night and Saturday night, gathered in the lobby of Hotel The Royal Plaza, to ride the bus to IGI Airport to fly to Bagdogra for the travel portion of our journey for Trip B. ( Trip A group would depart for Agra and Jaipur and Ranthambore later that morning). We arrived at the airport with plenty of time for check-in at JET AIRWAYS. We had a number of hiccoughs along the way.

First, when we got off the bus, saying "goodbye" to our amazing driver, Iqbal and our porter, Bobby, we began pushing out trolleys toward the Entry 4, hoping it was somewhere near the ticket counters for Jet Airways. We were about fifth in line even my grandson said he had left his cell phone on the bus. We looked and saw the bus slowly pulling away from the drop off point and I suggested John start running after it. This he did but reached it about three seconds late. UGH!  What to do? Call Bani and have him call Iqbal and maybe catch him before he had left the airport grounds. As we inched ever closer to entering through door 4, I was trying to devise a plan where the other eight members of our group could enter and when and if we got the phone back, John and I could pass through that checkpoint. I reached the door and since I had the e-ticket documentation for seven of us, I suggested that Dave and Magda Baggett go in front of me and get checked through. Then it was Pete Miller with his e-ticket who came next. He got safely inside. Then I went forward to speak to the army guard, trying to explain our situation. Just as the guard was okaying the idea, John called out, "Papa. Bobby just brought me my phone!!!" That was certainly great news. We were now all inside the airport and turned left toward counters B and C, designated for Jet Airways.

When we reached that area, there were already huge lines which had formed to check in. We got into one line towards counters on the B section and moved forward at a snail's pace. I was finally able to read a handwritten sign and return in pink highlighter was INTL. Oh great! We, all the of us have to switch to the line over leading to counters on the C section. The line nearly snaked right out the door to the listing platform!

Our flight to Bagdogra was to depart at 10:20 with boarding to begin at 9:35. No worries, we had plenty of time... NOT, as it turns out. Ever so slowly, our line moved forward, but not making the progress I had hoped to achieve. We had already been inside the airport and in line for nearly forty-five minutes so when I saw an agent talking to people in the line, I decided to push forward, tell her I had ten people traveling together and I was worried because we were dangerously approaching the boarding time noted. She looked a bit panicky, went to the ticket counter, spoke to an agent, returned and instructed me to move my entire group forward, that we would be "next in line". That was all well and good until we reached the person who was at the counter at that time. The only problem was that this person had 10 people as well and people's passports were missing and their bags were overweight and this caused a huge delay.  I was trying to be as patient as possible, but I was also watching the clock and the minutes were ticking away.  We had already passed the initial boarding time.
When that tour group leader finally finished, I approached the ticket counter and indicated that we were also going to Bagdogra and we had 10 people in our party as well.  The agent looked totally disgusted, and rolled her eyes back into her head. Before she could even ask for the 10 passports, I passed them to her.  I also called my team members forward, and ask them to put their bags in line to be weighed.  I looked at the clock, and realized that not only have the boarding time passed by, but we were also inching dangerously close to the actual departure time. When the agent finally calculated everything we were some 70 pounds overweight with our bags and therefore I also had to run up a charge to pay for that before we could move any further closer to the immigration line which had at least 500 people in it all and moving towards going through the process.

We approached the immigration line, and moved slowly once again towards the front. When we reached the front, there was a young man who called out asking if anyone was traveling to Bagdogra.  I raised my hand, and called out that we had 10 people all going there.  This young man, who evidently works for Jet Airways, did his best to speed the process of passing through the immigration line.

The second delay was caused by the fact that Pete Miller had camera equipment in his bag and had not taken it out for them to check separately. This held up the process by at least five more minutes. Once all processed through, the young man instructed us to run, following him through the back corridors, rather than through the main concourse areas. Telling out group to run was flashing images in my head of an old I LOVE LUCY episode. It simply was not going to happen! Two of our members were using canes and another had pulmonary surgery removing hang of one King only six months ago. By now the plane should have been in the air for at least twenty minutes, but we all chugged along holding on to great faith that this young chap knew what he was doing. All of us finally reached the gate, and I am confident made a huge positive impression on the other passengers, as we boarded at least a half hour after the scheduled takeoff.

We jammed into our seats and a few minutes later were airborn. Will not bore you with the details of the flight, but want to let you know we arrived safely in Bagdogra. However, after claiming our bags, found we were shy two bags!!! You can't even make up this stuff.

The final excitement came when we arrived some 4 hours later at our destination at Cedar Inn, in Darjeeling, and our bags were delivered to our rooms, I opened mine only to find that the bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label Scotch was smashed in my case and all of my clothes when now soaked with scotch and there were glass shards throughout my sign bag and my clothes.

As I said before, you can't even make up this stuff.

Sunrise from the Top of Tiger Hill, Feburary 6, 2017

When Saom, our guide, suggested that we get to bed early so we could get up at 3:45 and leave the Cedar Inn at 4:00 to drive to Tiger Hill to watch the sunrise, some of the group wryly inquired as to whether or not there was a possibility that the sun would NOT rise the following morning. However with a minimum of grousing, all but one of us arose and bundled up best we could to head to the hills. For two members, Pete Miller and Nancy Davis, that was a bit of a challenge, since their bags were still on the airport at IGI in Delhi. 

We met Saom and our amazingly skilled driver and set off on another adventure. We were promised a hearty breakfast, if in fact we survived this adventure and returned to Cedar Inn! 

We were none too early, either, in our departure, as we encountered Jeep after Jeep and other vehicles, heading in the same direction we were going. Evidently, these people had also be given the word that the sun might not come out today and they too needed to go to the vantage point at Tiger Hill. Since the journey snaking up the steep and winding roads would require ALL the power of our vehicle, we could not have the car heater on, so in order to defrost the windshield, and if we insisted upon breathing, the windows of our Jeep had to be open. Guess this was also a way to get us acclimated to the impending windy ice cold conditions at Tiger Hill. 

When we arrived at the entrance and our driver paid our entry fee, we proceeded up the narrowing road toward the summit. Our driver chose not to take us up to the summit, but rather to turn around and park on the side of the road, precariously close to the side ditch and headed downhill. Our guide explained this tactic would ensure a more efficient and speedy descent. We remained huddled in the vehicle, staying out of the cold, and with windows closed. At about 5:15, it was suggested that we should disembark from our chariot and climb to the viewing site. MAN was it cold!!!

Already at the summit were a few hundred devotees of frigid temperatures. We were also pestered constantly by tea and coffee walas as well as hockers offering to sell us scarves, hats, gloves and SELFIE STICKS!!! Little did I know until well into this process that I should have brought mine! I actually have several photos of the sunrise with at least a half dozen SELFIE STICKS blocking the sun and distant hills and snow capped mountain peaks!

As the sky began to lighten and the stars disappeared, the eastern sky turned pinkish orange and we began catching glimpses of the mountain peaks opposing the rising sun.  I had switched my vantage point to be facing the mountains and after a while, as clouds began to drift away from the peaks, a loud WHOOP went up from the other side... Evidently the sun did, in fact, rise and show its flame color. 

We lasted in very brisk winds, but finally relented, returned to our vehicle and proceeded down the mountainside, behind several dozen vehicles whose drivers evidently had the gift of forethought and parked further down the hill. We came back to Cedar Inn, and my grandson and I retreated to our room, jumped under layers of comforters and blankets and fell sound asleep for nearly an hour before walking over to the dining room for breakfast. 

Then it was off to the bussette for a ride to yet another busy day, beginning with a ride on the TOY TRAIN.

Drive to Delhi... February 3, 2017

Not so early to bed for several of the West Coast younger set, following a night of costumed Dream Team members, strutting their dance moves and entertaining those of us who sat on the sidelines and urged them on... Lots of fun followed by dinner and bedtime.
Up at 6:30, packed and bags outside by 7:00, breakfast and down to board the bus by 7:30.  Unfortunately, nobody bothered to inform our driver, Iqbal or our Porter, Bobby. They straightened out the bus and necked it up to get loaded with our bags. We finally headed out at 8:30, inching our way along narrow and winding road and out along the "goat path" alongside the river and fording the stream for the last time. Manoj tiptoed over rocks to the other side so he could film the bus crossing. Will try to get the video of this and add it to the blog after returning home where I will be using more than my phone to write and post this BLOG.
Trip was uneventful back to Delhi where we checked into the Hotel Royal Plaza. Truly, nothing has changed since I first started in this hotel in 2001... Rather than a fine hotel in the city center, it has become more of a conveyer belt, running guests in and out, barely having the time to fluff the pillows and put new soap and shampoos in the bathrooms. Rather than keeping up with repairs and basic maintenance items, the rule of the management seems to be "how many times in one day can we turn a room?"
After a brief rest, we dressed and met in the hotel lobby and headed out to board the bus and be driven to the Indian Habitat Center for a special dinner meeting of the Rotary Club of Delhi-Megapolis. A wonderful evening of testimonials from team members, as well as ROTARIANS from Delhi, and one transplanted Indian Rotarian from Texas!
A great dinner meal and wonderful company and then off to bed.
Until tomorrow...

Third DAY OF WORK... February 2, 2017

With not too many casualties to report, other than Linda Bertuzzi having the chills, sore throat and bad cough, and Dave Smith suffering from possible heat exhaustion or the flu, we were so fortunate in being able to plough through, as it were, literally several tons of rock, a few tons of both wet and dry masala, basin by basin, step by step, layer by layer in forming rather impressive "walls" of this dam.
Having said all of this, however, many of us has been so impressed with the Golden Temple in Amritsar last year, that we wanted to visit the huge Sikh temple in ANANDPUR SAHIB, known as Gurudwara Shri Bhora Sahib, and believed to be the seat of Sikhism as a religion, founded by the ninth guru. So right after breakfast, we boarded the busettes and headed there for a short tour.
Prayers were being offered and mantras chanted and we were able to pick up head covers for the men and the ladies wore head scarves. We walked barefooted through shallow pools of water before entering. A rough guess of the number of people who were the at the same time as we were is about two thousand. These were comprised of the devout, as well as the curious. When entering the center area, where the holy Scriptures were being guarded a humnd the mantras were being chanted and simulcast to the outside world, we walked in a clockwise and then we invited to sit on the floor as we listened to the chanting. All the while, the holy Scriptures were being guarded by the Royal blue turbaned Sikh guards. After exiting the remote itself, we LP then fed, among with thousands, as we sat on the ground outside the inner complex. We enjoyed a mix of bulgar wheat and honey, as well as gobi  and masala tea, again while sitting cross legged on the ground. Before reboarding the busettes, we wandered on the grounds and poked into the shops to purchase our own head coverings and I even bought John one of the iron bracelets worn by Sikhs everywhere.
After touring and eating and shopping, we returned to the busettes to drive to get back to work.  Some of us went to our respective pits, but awaiting our arrival at the dining tent were the members of the Panchayjat (five member village council) as well as the executive director of the PHD-RDF. They were all there to express their gratitude to our team for the work we had committed thus far. Shortly thereafter, a few dozen chairs were brought out of the dining tent and placed in three rows facing a table which was being covered with some beautifully colored turbans and Rajasthani head scarves with tiny mirrors applied.
The ceremony started and the Sarpanch (head of the Panchayjat) welcomed us and many of the village ladies and children who sat on the ground in front of our team members.
Then the executive director of the PHD-RDF spoke to explain who we were and what we were doing with the construction of the two dams. Sanjiv Saran was asked to speak, as well, and then I was asked to speak.  Once the speeches were finished, each of the men was marked with a tika of red cumcum and then had a turban placed on our heads. Members of the Panchayjat and other men from the village did the honors for us and then the village women honored our ladies by marking the tika on the women's foreheads and then draping each of our women with the beautiful embroidered head scarves.
Following the ceremony, many photos at the placement of the commemorative plaque were taken.  The day's festivities concluded and we returned to our cabins.

NOW THE REAL WORK BEGINS... February 1, 2017

Early rise and early departure for the dam site. We arrived and immediately split into the two teams we had gathered yesterday (which seemed to be working well). My group had to walk through the grounds of the nearby Hindu temple in order to access our site and I feel that was as though we were getting a special blessing each time we went. Occasionally the Hindu priests were conducting services and classes, and they always smiled and acknowledged us we passed through.
The previous afternoon, Prakash, the foreman of our group (and a cousin to Makhan, one of the family members of the team with whom we have worked building dams since 2010) had singled out my grandson to work alongside him down in the "pit". Prakash and I had worked similarly together about five years ago and he proudly came up to the top of the pit and with a smile on his face indicated that Mister JOHN was working with him. I told him he was my grandson and laughingly said he should call him DOCTOR JOHN.  Well Prakash took this seriously and called JT by that name the rest of the next two days! Whenever he needed something to be done, he would call for DOCTOR JOHN, and always with a big grin on his face.
We worked for almost four solid hours, occasionally taking an electrolyte break with a quick 8oz of infused water. This short break of less than a minute seemed to be restorative.

We formed bucket lines down the hillside, passing basins of masala (which in Hindi means mixture, both in cooking as well as building dams). Two or three local workers at the top of the hill would mix up either wet or dry cement masala and then fill basin after basin with the mix and we would pass it along our line, down the hill to the bottom, where it would be worked in amongst the rocks, which we had also passed along our lines. Occasionally, someone would call out for a song, so I would lead the singing of  "I've been working on the railroad" and the locals seemed to enjoy it, and our group did as well. If we were able to establish a good rhythm, we could space apart a bit further and toss full basins of cement or dry sand mixture down the hill. Amy Scheller from Pennsylvania and Andrew Bird from Las Vegas were two of the very hardest workers on our team. Several members of the Delhi-Megapolis Rotary Club joined us and got into the rhythm pretty well, especially Vikal and Manoj. However, not to be outdone, the "old dogs" were not so bad either. Drexel Smith from California, John Davies from Australia, Rick Tone from Yukon Territory all helped to contribute to the well-oiled machine we were becoming. Dave and Magda Baggett, both past district governors from North Carolina,  also had their son, Russell, from Mississippi with them and we were so grateful for his solid and stolid and steady work ethic.

When we broke for lunch, we looked back down in the pit and I believe looked back with a sense of pride at what we had accomplished this far. As someone remarked, "we're not half-bad!"

We returned to the tent where the puja ceremony had occurred the previous day, and were served a well-balanced hot lunch by the kitchen crew from our cabin resort. Just being able to sit in a chair was a welcome exercise.

But, every good thing had to come to an end as we returned to the pit and began singing songs and slinging masala for another three hours. Occasionally, we need to speed up the process, so I would bellow, "MASALA!!!" to the crew and the people in the lines would chug along a bit faster. It appeared that ours was to be a two-tiered dam and things were  shaping up nicely.

It was finally time to call it a day and take our busettes back to camp for rest or a swim in the cold and refreshing holy river. Even I joined a half-dozen great souls for a dip. A good day's work with lots of aches and pains, but a good day nonetheless.