Goat in a Rickshaw

To start off this post, I want to give you all a little taste of the Indian driving I referred to in an earlier post. I tried my best to capture the organized chaos that is driving in India, and show you just how many forms of transport can be seen on the roads. This video is a bit tamer than some of the stuff I've seen when I didn't have my camera, but hopefully you'll get the idea. Notice how no one uses the lanes, everyone uses their horns to tell where they are going, and how close motor bikes come to being smushed. The little yellow cars are the auto rickshaws, a very common form of transportation in India.

***For some reason I can't get this video to upload, so you'll have to check back.

That brings me to the title of this post. Today, while walking with Chrissy to the vet school for a brief run, I saw what might be one of my favorite sights of all time. Before I go there, let me just say that running 3 miles in India is like running a half marathon at home. I. almost. died. I'm hoping to keep up the habit of exercising while I'm here, and my group has even agreed to start our little "Club Fitness India" and do floor workouts in the morning in the spare room. Meals are so carbohydrate rich that we're all a little worried about our waistlines. It's going to be difficult to keep weight off, especially considering that it reaches 100 on most days and my body just isn't used to running on pavement hot enough to cook an egg.

Back to the goats.

As many of you know, I am a huge goat lover. Ever since spending 4 years of my life working with Boer goats (meat breed) at UMASS Amherst, I have a soft spot in my heart for the beasts. They're the dogs of the ruminant world, always following you around, looking for food, attention, or something to jump or poop on. I simply love them. I hope someday to get a (group of goats is a band, not a flock) of about 4-5 goats and use them as mini lawn mowers. Goats love to eat weeds and all manner of foliage and can mow down a lawn in no time. Plus, they give you fresh fertilizer, free of charge!! And, their meat is lower in calories and fat and higher in protein than beef and pork. They have a high feed conversion ratio and don't have huge horns that need removal. They pose no threat to humans, unlike cattle, and can have from 1-4 babies at once. Basically, they're amazing. Below are some pictures I captured of a Boer goat in a rickshaw with a bandaged leg.


I took literally 10 more but I won't bore you with them. And now that you're all convinced I'm a crazy goat lady, on with the post.

Yesterday (day 3) started as most days do at our hostel, with coffee and breakfast.

The daily plate- dosas, carrot something or other, cucumber and onion sauce, rice, eggs, chickpeas in spicy sauce

I learned from Dr. Mohankumar that my luggage was finally in Chennai, but that the airline refused to deliver it. He said that he would go to pick it up on his way home from Madras Sunday night, but I literally could not live in my green Michigan State shirt and black capris anymore. I told myself when I came on this trip that I was going to try and become more spontaneous and free spirited from it, and as such would try to be a hippy and let things go. However, I thought 3 days without luggage and 5 days in the same clothes (washed, thankfully a few times) was hippy enough and volunteered to go hire a taxi pick it up myself. Plus, I needed my malaria meds. Dr. Mohankumar was fine with that and arranged for the university van to take the group of us to the airport.

Yesterday was HOT. Hot even for India. It was so hot, that you would sweat sitting down, sitting still, in light clothing. Even the Indians were sweating and wiping their brows with hankerchiefs throughout the day. That made me feel better...it wasn't just the weak composition of us whities that was making us sweat so much. I felt like Moe Sizlack from the Simpsons (eh? anyone? oldies?). Unfortunately, the van was not air conditioned.

The ride to the airport is close to one hour, especially when you leave around 2:45 and rush hour has begun. We zipped through the city regions and over a particularly smelly river where I noticed many cows and other animals lounging under the shade of bridges (our cow count is now about 50). A few homeless were among them, sprawled out and napping. Eventually, we arrived at the airport unscathed. When attempting to retrieve my bag, there was a tense moment when a few men tried to cut in front of us, but we held our ground. Dr. Mohankumar had warned us that just like with driving, lanes and order don't necessarily matter to the people of India, and they may just decide to cut you in line. Luckily, Dr. Grooms is tall enough to seem intimidating, even though he'd never hurt a fly.

Despite these apparent lack of Western manners, the Indians are probably the nicest people I've ever met. I thought that the difference between the east coast and the Midwest was noticeable, but this is a whole 'nother ballgame. Although they may seem shy at first, all of them will smile and wave back at you if you smile or wave to them. If you ask them for help, they will readily answer, or find someone who can. Sure, they may stare...but who wouldn't? While everyone around is decked out in sarees and light airy clothing, we walk around with the sun bouncing off of our pale skin wearing unforgiving cotton and denim. We stand out like the sorest thumb.

The Indians also love to have their picture taken. Fathers will push their sheepish little girls towards us and motion for us to take pictures. Little boys will run up, giggle and pose for the camera. They thank us for the pictures, even though we're the ones who are happy to take them for the memories.


They're also extremely genuine. Although they may laugh at some of the things we do, they really are happy to have us around. Whereas in the US, someone may act glad to see you to your face and later talk condescendingly, the Indians show you exactly how they feel. If they're pissed, they'll yell and gesture. If they're happy, they'll smile and laugh. Last night, we attended a ceremony for the college where the announcer called out, "we warmly welcome our foreign visitors," and a crowd of 100 men and women cheered for us. They are the most welcoming people.

Back to the airport. After receiving my bag and hugging it, I decided to buy some sweets for everyone for coming along for the ride. My American companions are the best support system. I learn more about them and like them more each day. A little sweet shop called Cricket Sweets was outside the airport, and the woman at the counter gave me some pieces of what she thought we'd like. I had no idea what the desserts were and was hoping they weren't literally crickets. Cricket (the sport) is very big in India, so I banked on the name relating to that and gave the dessert a taste.

It was a block of something yellowish that was sweeter than cake, with a soft texture and smell reminiscent of movie theater popcorn. Mmm...calories. So much for that run.

On the way back to the hostel, our driver decided to take us to a few extra stops, free of charge. We drove to a Snake Park, which is literally, a park of snakes. It was a zoo just for reptiles, with snakes, crocodiles, alligators and turtles on display. Above each of the snake cages was scrawled either "venomous" or "non-venomous." The zoo was in very good condition, and all the animals were kept well. The only thing which set off a red flag was a group of spotted deer which were kept in confinement on the property. Although the deer seemed to be part of the zoo, we wondered secretly if they were being kept as food for the gigantic reticulated pythons. Poor Bambi.

Actual photo

The next stop on our way home, however, proved to be the best. A little ways off the main drag, a giant beach stretched on for miles down the coast.

The beach is where many fishermen and their family make residence, and where they keep their animals and sell their catch. We drove down a small road bordering the beach, and were amazed at all of the little shacks where the families lived. It looked to be a very poor area, but everyone was out running around and looking happy. Mothers washed their children on the beach with buckets of water, and groups of boys played cricket. I was even more excited to be at the beach when I noticed how many GOATS there were, running around in the garbage and eating things here and there. Crows would follow them around, landing on their backs and stealing from them.

Ladies selling the catch of the day

Goats stealing the catch of the day

As we moved away from the little fishing village, we came upon the main part of the beach where thousands of people were hanging out. Men on horseback cantered their horses around and tons of street vendors had piled onto the beach to sell food. This was when I began to realize just how many people are in India. At that beach alone, there had to have been about 3,000 people. Further on, a public swimming pool was overwhelmed with people. I tried not to think about what kinds of things would be living in the water. Did I mention it was hot yesterday??

Horsin' around

Eventually, we arrived back to the hostel and prepared for the evening's festivities. As I mentioned before, last night was the closing ceremony for the university's celebration. We were cordially invited by the college staff to attend. At the ceremony, awards were given out to students for winning a variety of contests held during the celebration, including musical chairs, candle lighting, ping pong, balloon bursting, running, human wheelbarrowing, etc. Many, many veterinary students were present, and the crowd were seated in two different sections- women and men. The young ladies all wore sarees of various colors which were more fancy then everyday wear. I found myself wishing I had a few, since they seemed so much cooler and practical than what we were wearing. The men wore slacks and button downs or collared shirts. Unlike in the US where the ratio of females to males in veterinary school is about 9:1, about half of the veterinary classes in India are made up of men .

After the ceremony, we were invited to eat with the dean in the upper floor of the converted gym. The lower floor was reserved for the female students to eat, and another building designated for the men. We discovered, very quickly, that for special occasions...fancier food is served. And for some reason, food is considered fancy when it is EXTRA SPICY. Before putting food on our plates, one of the men turned to us and said "you may want to go easy on the spice." They turned on all the fans and gave out extra water. I felt like I needed to apologize to my digestive tract.

Halfway through dinner, we were again gifted with a power outage, and the entire gym went dark. The girls below us immediately started screaming before a multitude of cellphones were pulled out to light up the room. I have no idea where the girls hide their cellphones...no one seems to carry a purse. Sarees must have secret pockets.

We concluded the night by watching a concert with the rest of the students. Once again, female students were on one side, and men on the other. The ladies danced with the ladies, and the guys with the guys. It was very reminiscent of the time I attended my cousin's orthodox Jewish wedding and the dance floor was divided by little potted plants. If only the Indians could attend an American concert or dance...they'd be horrified. In India, the pursuit of the opposite sex seems to be a slow, modest and respectful process, rather than the in-your-face "hey how you doin'" that goes on in the US.

Halfway through one of the songs, Jeremy was convinced by a group of male students to come dance. Being the good sport that he is, he gave it a try and went to sweat it out amongst the mass of them. We knew that we'd probably soon be targeted as well. Annnnd we were.

The girls were so excited to dance with us and pulled us readily into their circle. We attempted to follow the leader and bust out some moves that we remembered from the Jai Ho music video (Slumdog Millionaire). I'm sure we looked as ungraceful as we felt, but it was fun and the girls were thrilled that we participated. We found out later that a fight broke out among some of the male students who had been drinking, so we had to leave the premise earlier than expected.


And that wrapped up day 3 of India. Besides more delicious meals, the run and a brief trip to the mall, the only new thing which happened on day 4 (today) was a ride in a rickshaw.

Rickshaws are glorified go-karts with tiny little go-kart motors that start up when you pull on something that looks like an E-brake. The drivers vary from skinny, wily old men to chubby bristly fellows. Most of them add their own personal touches to the rickshaws in the form of pictures of Ghandi, the elephant god Ganesh, or their family. They are usually pretty honest, but some of them have deals with local businesses and actually get commission if they bring tourists to the shops. So, to get that commission, they often pick you up and promise to take you somewhere, but then go driving all over Chennai bringing you to their friends' shops. Luckily, our friend Mutu at the hostel arranged the first rickshaw for us and we picked wisely on the way home.


Riding in a rickshaw is AWESOME. They can't go very fast, but they can squeeze in between cars and buses and whip around corners. They have no windows or doors and stay very cool. You get so close to other rickshaws while driving that you could literally reach out and touch them. If I could, I would totally buy a rickshaw and bring it back to the US. And I'm putting a goat in it. Ohhhh yeaahhhh.