Dharamsala: 9th grade Week Without Walls

The last week of October, I had the wonderful opportunity to help chaperon the 9th Grade's Week Without Walls trip to Dharamsala. This was the first time the school had done this trip, which was organized by a group called Snow Leopards. Dharamsala is where the Dali Lama fled to when he left Tibet. His residence is here, along with many other Tibetan monks and Tibetan refugees. It is located in the foothills of the Himalayas and is beautiful. As we flew, the mountains at first looked like white clouds far in the distance. As we got closer, the landscape below us unfolded into steep hillsides, dotted with shiny tin roofs. Villages were nestled at the end of valleys and perched high on top of the hills. (To anyone from the east coast, these "hills" are close to the equivalent of the Appalachian Mountains). The white peaks were then towering layer after layer as far as the eye could see. I felt like crying, it was so good to see mountains! The white capped mountains around Dharamsala are very rugged and have not really been climbed much. When we landed, the airport was small with one runway, but with a spectacular view. As I deplaned, I took in a nice, clean breath of fresh air. Ahhhhh... After everyone arrived, we climbed aboard two buses and started the steep and switchback filled journey up to our hotel that a bus had no business being on, but this is India. The fauna had gone from tropical in Mumbai to an alpine environment here. I knew it was going to be hard to leave at the end of the week.

The area of town where we stayed and where the Dali Lama's residence were located, was along a steep hillside. Roads traversed along, snaking around multi-storied buildings that were brightly colored. The first evening, we walked through town and briefly looked through the Tibetan museum, walked through the temple at His Holiness's residence (he was not present that week) and then walked two kilometers around the temple. The path was narrow, and wound through the forest. There were carins everywhere, painted white and prayer flags layered all throughout the forest. Sets of Prayer wheels lined parts of the path and it was meditative to spin each one we came upon. They were all sizes, from about as big as a large tin can to taller than a human being. That night, after eating dinner, we were graced with the presence of a monk, who talked about his story of escaping Tibet. It was heart wrenching and amazing to see this smiling and forgiving man in front of us. He had been though more than I could imagine someone ever having to go through in a life time. He is 33 years old, my age. He ended with a Tibetan chant, which was low and deep. Some of the boys practiced imitating this the rest of the trip and one even performed at the talent show our last night. It was fascinating to watch how different parts of the trip effected some of the students.

I ended up feeling a bit sick that night, having to get up many times for "loose motions" (as they are called here) and was worried about how I was going to start trekking in the morning and spend two nights out camping. I was also angry at my body and told it there was no way it was holding me back. In the morning, I succumbed to taking some medicine and throughout the day felt better.

The first day, we trekked around the upper hills of Dharamsala. We stopped at a temple that had so many prayer flags it was almost disorienting. We had another monk talking to us there about being a monk. He had a great sense of humor and teased the kids a lot. When one of the kids asked him why he became the monk, he answered with a smile, "oh, this was a very stupid reason. When I was 13, we had a monk come to our house. I saw that my mother is making all this good food and then serving it to the monk. I sat there and though, wow, I want to become monk so I can eat all this good food. Very stupid, but my stupid reason turned into a wonderful decision."

We also visited the Tibetan Children's Village (http://www.tcv.org.in/index.shtml), which cares for and educates Tibetan children who have been orphaned, abandoned, or brought from Tibet for a better life. We saw the grounds of the school, which were in an amazing setting, saw the temple there, visited the 2-5 year olds, and toured a house where 30 children live. The 2-5 year olds were precious. They sang for us, proudly, and were very eager to show our students their rooms. There was one very serious little guy, who was climbing all over and had the most amazing balance and coordination I've ever seen in such a young person. The kids loved him.

The rest of the day, we hiked into more farming and grazing lands in the hills to our camp spot on a terraced hillside. Snow Leopards provided tents, sleeping pads, sleeping bags, and blankets. The students were responsible for putting up their own tents. The meals were cooked for us and we ate in a long tent set up with lots of chairs. The students also helped with chores like washing dishes, cleaning up, taking down camp. It was good for them to have to help out for the common good.

Our next day of trekking was the hardest. It was a fairly steep climb to gain 1000 meters during the day. I was impressed how most of the groups encouraged each other and found ways to occupy their minds to get through rough parts. The last part of the climb was very steep and we could see where we would end up, just above the rocks we were hiking up. When we got there, it was an amazing reward. We were on a grass covered plateau, looking across the vally to snow-dusted, rugged peaks. I had a strong desire to be over there! I asked one of the guides later about climbing those mountains and he told me one of the peaks had been summited but the others had not because there wasn't a good route up them. "Man, I have to bring Greg here," was what I was thinking. Everyone was tired, but happy about the view. It was cold when the sun went down and the wind picked up. Many of the students didn't have adequate clothing and started to shiver. We rounded them up, into the eating tent, which warmed up with body heat and was protection against the wind. A fire was also started. Above us, there was a higher point where a small temple stood. I asked about how long it would take to get there and was thinking about an early morning hike before breakfast. I spoke with one of the staff members and we had 13 students interested in getting up at 5am and hiking through sunrise, going as far as we could. I had my doubts about how many would wake up that early, especially when the time came in the cold, dark dawn. Low and behold, 12 got up. We were a group of different paces, but we stayed together as a group and reached about half way up to the temple. Hiking as the sun came up was spectacular, watching the color bloom through the valley and surrounding mountains. We all felt a bit special, I think, as we entered camp for breakfast having such a great experience when everyone else had only gotten up and were packing. My wonderful tent mate had even rolled up my bedding for me! (Thanks, Kim)!

The trek down had more amazing views, though was steep and filled with loose rock. A bunch of us commented that we were glad this was not how we had come up. I think some of the students might not have made it. We arrived at the hotel with smiles and the students were eager to hit the town for some souvenir shopping. All the adults were ready for a nap, but we pushed on. After having tea on a roof top terrace near the Dali Lama's residence, we split into groups and had an hour of shopping frenzy before we needed to be back at the hotel for a cultural performance. I laughed because me group of girls spent a lot of time buying junk food for traveling the next day. You'd think they had been trekking for months, not just out for two nights. They were also bumming when they didn't have enough time to buy gifts for their families. Oh, wonderful natural consequences.:) I myself bought Greg a singing bowl (he's been eyeing them for about five years), some scarves, and YARN! We kept passing shops where women were knitting, but I didn't see any yarn. I finally asking and slowly was pointed to a shop that had yarn off to the side in plastic bags. I rummaged through quickly and grabbed about 8 skeins that I bought for under $10! What a deal!

I rushed my group back to the hotel and we were given a wonderful performance of traditional Tibetan dancing. Colorful, intricate costumes, wonderful singing and music. The performers had such wonderful energy and amazing smiles. I think this ended up being one of the best things about our week...other than the views, the monks, the Tibetan Children's Village, prayer flags...it was an amazing experience! I was a bit disappointed to be sleeping back in the hotel instead of a tent. The hotel was cold, stuffy, and sheets a bit stained. (Rule #1 when traveling to budget hotels in India, always bring your own linen). But, I slept much better than my first night at the hotel with my "loose motions."

Our decent down the hillside, back to the airport the next day was a little sad for me. I was ready to stay and just have Greg join me, rather than head back to Mumbai. I think that was a sentiment for other staff members and some of the students too. We had a little bit of a debacle with the flights out of Dharamsala, but it was worked out and our plane cleared the mountains, rose into the blue sky, and we watched to mountains slowly disappear.

Garba Dancing

Diwali, India's equivalent of Christmas and a festival of lights, just finished this past Sunday. All over India, there were rangolis (designs made of colored powder) at people's doorsteps, diyas (colorful clay bowls that are filled with oil and lighted) placed at doorways, around houses (in our hotel i Aurangabad there were placed in the hallways and all over the lobby), lanterns, and so many fireworks that I now laugh at our 4th of July displays. This festival celebrates Ram, Sita, and Ram's brother's return from exile after Ravana, the evil ten headed god, was killed. The lights signify the townspeople lighting the way home and welcoming the three home. On the commercial side of things, Diwali means may sales and discounts, just like Christmas.

Three Fridays ago, before Greg and I left on our respective Week Without Walls trips, the school had a Diwali assembly. when I entered the school that day, there were flower streamers, lights, and ceiling decorations all over the building. It looked beautiful. Most of the staff and students were dressed in Indian wear and there was such a festive spirit in the air. The assembly was where all the time and energy that myself and 15 others spent the past month learning a Garba dance would be shown off. We all gathered to change into our costumes, complete with lots of jewelry and bindis. The earrings were very heavy and as I moved my head around, I was worried my ears were going to fall off. How am I going to dance in these?! At the assemble, many different groups of students performed dances and plays. They were all wonderful and the kids seemed to have a lot of fun. We were on last, as we headed on stage I though, "crap, it's happening. Will I remember the steps?" I was nervous and I had a knot in my chest the full five minutes of the dance. We whirled and twirled, our sparkling dresses swirling about and there were a lot of smiles. It was fun. When the music ended, we had a big applause and we had done it! No major catastrophes or errors. Then there was a feeling of, wow we worked so heard and now it's over. Hmmmm, that's a bit of a let down.

Luckily, we were suck a hit that we have been asked to perform at the PTA gala this weekend so we get another performance, then it's over.:) Once I get a hold of a video of the performance, I'll post it. Until then, enjoy some of the prep photos.

Greatful we are without a driver

Today was the second Mumbai Explorers excursion to Mani Bhavan (Gandhi Museum). I left my flat at 9:30am, armed with the Lonely Planet and Mumbai Maps book to help me find the museum. Very happy I had rupees on my smart card, I went to the small computer stand, got my ticket without waiting in line, and walked over to the 5th platform - the fast train - to head off to Grant Road station. At this time in the morning, there are loads of people heading into the city since most businesses don't open until 10 - 11am. As the train came to a halt, I pulled myself on, trying to push the woman in front of me further into the train as another woman was barely hanging on behind me. The train started up. As women started to shift to exit the next station, I was tightly crammed between other bodies, all of them women since I was in the ladies' car. I was sweating like a pig, so all I could do was go to my happy place and smile at the situation. Then we started moving, a group of ladies started singing and they serenaded us the whole ride. It was wonderful! Brought me back to Kingston, Jamaica where there was always thumping beats blaring on the buses. At Dadar, the most bustling station, loads of women exited, creating more room and I took a seat for a bit until my station came up. I squeezed my way to the door telling women I was getting off at Grant Station and they stepped aside to let me by.
Once off, I meandered until I found the exit of the station and stepped out into the bustling street with my map book out. It wasn't a far walk, but figuring out which road to take at an intersection where five roads met was slightly disorienting. I asked a policeman who pointed me in the right direction. I arrived as the Mumbai Explorers headed inside.
It's a wonderful museum and I hope to go back when I have more time to explore. For lunch, we took a walk around the block to see a couple of other significant sights. One of the ladies stated to me. "Wow, walking, it feels so good. You just don't get to see as much when you are in the car, right?" I laughed to myself and thought, "honey, you don't even know the half of it." This moment made me truly grateful that I can't rely on my air conditioned car, driven by a driver, who takes me wherever and I end up having no clue about anything. Here's to sweat, crowds, singing and India! I earned my fresh lime soda, damn it!
As we left the lunch spot, all the other ladies turned right, calling their drivers and I turned left to head back to the train station...

Our Hero Bicycles

Finally, the long awaited blog about our Indian bikes from Hero! We've had them about a month or so and have been getting use to their "special" nuances. Both were about $70 and are solid as a tank. Greg's bike is the same that millions of Indians ride each day to commute or deliver any type of goods you can think of. After riding my bike around Bandra, I have a new found respect for the balancing act these men go through every day. Wow!
One of our mishaps has been with the tires. Both of our tires went low, so Greg bought a standing bike pump to get them back into shape. The only problem was...what the heck is this? The valves on the tires are not Shrader nor Presta. They are unique to India? Maybe these are the same valves in China? All I know is when Greg went to use the bike pump he ended up pulling out the valve thus causing opposite effect of the hoped outcome. Oops. Now he was able to practice changing his bike tube. This was quite a fun project for him, which took about two and a half hours. He's not going to be winning any races in the near future I can tell you that.
Changing the tire involved taking half the bike apart since most of it was connected to the rear axle: heavy duty kickstand, rear rack, brakes, bike lock, fenders. All connected by bolts. All this was preformed in our car port in the evening hours in the humidity and with mosquitoes buzzing around. Greg LOVED it! When I came into this scene I immediately thought, photo opt! Thus, we now have photos to show off our heavy metal beasts.
There aren't very many females out riding the streets, so my bright pink, "Miss India Gold" is quite a sight. Actually two foreigners using their own steam instead of a driver is quite a sight. It is assumed that we have a driver by everyone. For example when asking directions to an expat function, "Oh, just have your driver call mine. They'll figure it out."
Since fixing his tube, Greg has been to the bike shop to have his tires pumped up and he has assured me that he watched closely and "thinks" he can pump mine up. Ha! On my list of things to do today is taking Miss India Gold and bike pump to the shop for a lesson. The other adjustment she needs is a taller seat. Women's bikes come in "one size fits all." When I went to raise my seat, it was only a few inches long. Sorry, but I'm just slightly longer than the average Indian woman. Wish me luck. Right now my leg can't go straighter than 45 degrees. Not a very pleasant feeling on my knees.
Our next goal, once everything is fitting right, is decking out the bikes in bling. I was very excited to see another bike recently with lights placed on the spokes of both tires. I exclaimed, "I must do this!" (What could be cooler than multicolored lights spinning out from all directions of my bike)? If I'm going to be drawing attention to myself, I might as well go all out!
Probably the most important feature both our bikes came with was the bike bell. My thumb is placed square on it at all times, as letting the world know you exist is key to survival. Bikes are low on the totem of importance on the road. These things are LOUD. Greg also has his Incredibell (his friendly bell) and I will soon be putting the honker I purchased along with Krissy Steele in Salida (I heart Salida) during Ride The Rockies 2009. You can never make too much noise in Mumbai.
Riding in Mumbai has been an adjustment of technique. The most obvious is getting use to riding with the flow of traffic on the left side of the road and making turns into the correct lane. Traffic being what it is, we've learned to get right in there and do what we need to do to get through it. The one-foot-push-off-the-sidewalk to pass all rickshaws and cars works wonders...all the sudden you're at the front and we can go through red lights too. Ha ha ha ha! Take that traffic!! It can be sweet bliss sometimes. I'm just waiting to use the foot-into-the-side of-the-rickshaw-kick. I keep visualizing that one. I think if I kick hard enough it'll scare the crap out of the driver and make him think twice about cutting off Miss India Gold.
Don't worry, we both have helmets.:)

(While taking these pictures, I realized Greg's front gear had "Hero" worked it there. They don't spare anything in India. Only the best, baby)!

Bombay Hash Hound Harriers

I first heard about Hashing from Nat Cook back when I was nineteen and in Anchorage at home for the summer from my first year in college. It sounded like a running scavenger hunt with all sorts of crazy characters and ended up with a reward of drinking your socks off.

When I arrived in Mumbai, my bible for the first week was a book called "Namaskar Mumbai." It had loads of resources about Mumbai. Under the section of recreation, I ran across the Hash Hound Harriers. I have to try this! I told Greg about it, though he was open to it, I don't think he realized how up his alley this group was going to be. After missing several invites to hashes, this weeks hash started two blocks from our flat. I told Greg I was going to fulfill my curiosity and would love it if he joined. Greg ran 14 miles Sunday morning for his long training run for the Mumbai Marathon. He wasn't sure about running again. I assured him that a lot of people walk and that he would get a couple beers at the end. Five minutes before I left, he decided to join. We walked over to the Pebble Bay Cafe and Bar, which we had never heard of before. It was this upscale place tucked away near an intersection of six different roads. Needless to say, it was crazy just crossing all those busy roads to get to the place, but we made it without any mishaps. There were a few guys hanging out front in t-shirts and shorts, so we introduced ourselves. As more people arrived, it became apparent how much hashing is a way of life. Everyone had t-shirts from different hashing events, trips to the hill stations on the weekends were for hashing, and there were tales told of national, regional, and international events. Wow! I tried to find out a bit more of what we were in for, but no one was giving up specific information.

Once everyone was there, a bugle was sounded and a guy in an orange shirt, one of the "hares," let us know that the other "hare" would meet us at the train station for tickets for the skywalk. Cockney Wanker (once you've been hashing long enough, you are given a hash name) made sure we knew to look for the red electrical tape, always on the left, which marked our route. Then away we went. We followed the crowd to the train station and waited for our tickets (no one was happy about waiting and made sure the hare knew this). Then we headed off. Greg and I were up front with three other hashers. We ran on the skyway that made its way above some slums over to the entrance of the area where ASB is located. We ended up in front with another new hasher, this was his second hash. At one point we lost the trail for a bit, so we turned around and found our way again. Lesson one, be up front at your own risk. We reached a point where one of the hares was located and we were told to run back to the last hare we saw. What?! so we turned around, giving the news to other hashers. The hare was walking the route, so we didn't have to go all the way back to the beginning. Then we were told to turn around again and go back. (later we learned that this goes against a rule of setting the trail. "You can never go back over the same trail." when this was announced, Greg gleefully yelled, I went over my trail twice! Give them two cups of ice! The hares were being punished with ice down their pants). The trail ended up back on the skywalk. At this point, Greg was really tired so the three of us walked the rest of the way back. We found out that just the first five were turned around.

Back at the restaurant, we were greeted buy three guys who were drinking at the bar and who we never saw after the train station. They had totally cheated and two of them were outted for this later. I think there ended up being a handful that had cheated. We had some beer and socialized until everyone was back. Then the end of hash rituals began. The hares were punished, Greg and I were recognized and teased as newcomers, the cheaters were pointed at, the next hash was announced, and we closed with a vulgar rendition of "swing low, sweet chariot." We had a lot of fun and though we won't be around for the Halloween Hash, we hope to join again in November. There will be an urban hash and then a country hash each month. It would be great to run outside of the polluted city. "On On!"

Matheran

Greg had his first three day weekend a week ago. We headed to Matheran, a hill station about two and a half hours away from Mumbai. The wonderful thing about it is no cars, except for one ambulance, are allowed. A break from car honking and having to be so aware of vehicles when walking down the street! Our friends and upstairs neighbors, Jen and Brian, planned on going too and allowed us to tag along. Drew and Wacuima also joined. We met early Friday morning, piled into two taxis and headed for the Dadar train station. We decided to take second class for the train ride, which ended up being 17 Rs (20 cents). We waited for the Deccan Espress to wizz us to Neral, where we would catch a taxi to the entrance of Matheran. We got on a train car we thought was second class, but quickly realized that these were reserved seats. We asked a man sitting on the uncrowded train and he said not to worry and just sit. When he found how much we paid, he was not happy because it was so little (typically its about 67 Rs). He tried telling us we needed to get on a different train because this one was not going to Neral. Brian assured us this was the correct train. The train got increasingly full and we kept getting bumped from our seats. But, we made it and no one came by to check tickets. In Neral, there were taxis lining the roadway. Brian bargained for two taxis since we would not fit into one. The one that Jen, Wacuima and I took was...mmmmm, I questioned its ability to take us up the winding mountain. Bald tires, a bit of rust. I think if it had been raining it would not have made it. The road was very steep in some places. Looking at where we were headed, it was hard to see how there was a road up the mountain side. Again, we made it, passing private cars along the way. I kept wondering how Greg was doing with the windy roads since he tends to get car sick. At the car park, we paid our 25 Rs entrance fee and hiked up the steep, rocky road. We passed groups of 5-8 men pushing large carts full of bricks. It was insane! I don't know how they did it. Greg said at one point, he imagined the cart rolling backwards at a point where Jen and I were behind the cart. He said he realized he wouldn't be able to save us from the cart rolling over us. He'd only be able to shout for us to run. What a happy thought, Greg.

The hotel we stayed at, Woodlands hotel, was set back on the thickly wooded hillside, off a side path. I really had the sense that we were at camp. All the hotels and homes were far apart, the paths and roads pretty rocky, a thick forest, fresh air and I could hear birds and insects filling the quiet air. Woodlands was rustic, had large, open porches, and a friendly staff. We enjoyed the wonderful food that was included. The manager had stocked up of beer for us and I brought some wine. A nice relaxing weekend. The only issue for me were the sheets and the uncomfortable bed. Next time, I will be bringing sheets with us. I think this might end up being a rule for us, always travel with your own bed linen...you never know.

Our first introduction to the potentially aggression of the Matheran monkeys, which were roaming everywhere, was during our light breakfast we had in town. After getting settled at the hotel, we walked into town, which was one dirt road lined with shops, restaurants and hotels. There were horses clip-clopping along. It felt "old west" in a colonial India sort of way. Matheran was a popular destination for the British and when they left after independence, they gave their land to the Parsis. The Parsis (Hindi for Persians) came from Iran in the 6th or 7th century and have remained a non-partial group, living their lives without upsetting Hindu-Muslim tensions. Their population is declining because they don't marry outside of their community, but they are still very financially powerful, owning about 1/3 of Mumbai's property.

At the restaurant, which was one story above the street and open-aired, we ordered our food. Then the waiter handed Drew a long PVC pipe. This was to fend off the monkeys. At some point, the tin roof came to life with banging as the monkeys jumped on it and ran around. A couple paws appeared from the roof and then a head, peering down. All it took was seeing the pipe, they had learned before what that meant. The pipe was proudly displayed on a chair in the middle of the restaurant during our meal. At Woodlands, they had air rifles to scare the monkeys. They were not loaded, much to the males' disappointment in our group. But they still enjoyed shooting it off when given the opportunity. The other funny thing at this restaurant was what Brian ordered. He decided to have the French Omlete. When it came, it was an omlete covered with french fries. We were all laughing our heads off and decided we all wanted to add "French" to our orders since the potatoes were tasty.

There were many points to hike to in Matheran. Both mornings, Jen, Brian, Greg and I took a morning run to different points. Then we hiked to several others. It reminded me of Hawaii - lush, steep mountainsides with watrefalls gushing down everywhere. The waterfalls disappear as the monsoon becomes more and more a distant memory. For the most part, I felt like there were very few other people around except when we went to Porcupine point at sunset Saturday night. The crowd kept building and building. It's a spectacular place to see the sunset and everyone knows about it. The walk back to the hotel was a bit crazy, dodging people riding horses and slower walkers. I was thankful that was the only time I realized what a popular place Matheran is for Mumbaikars. Besides hikes, the rest of the time was spent lounging, lounging, and more lounging. It was a great relaxing weekend.

For the trip home, we piled into a taxi that took us back to Bandra. Immediately, the driver blasted techno music and was encouraging us to groove to it. All westerners love techno, right? Brian, who was sitting in the hatch back trunk of the van, lost a bit of his hearing since the speakers where right next to him. Greg and I decided next time, we will probably opt for a train ride back. It was just too soon to be back in the craziness of traffic, stopping and going, honking, and near misses. We will be heading back soon.

Internet down, grrrrrr

I'm pleased to say that there is consistency with internet and phone companies all over the world - they pretty much suck. Last Wednesday our internet stopped working. This can happen in India at random times, but usually within a day it's back up and running. It was not running on Thursday and we were leaving for a long weekend, so I wanted to get the ball rolling with having it fixed. I called the company and they said that we hadn't paid our bill. I let them know we had not received a bill yet for this month. Then Greg called when he got home from work. So, they sent a person to collect the money over to our flat. The bill was for three months because their records showed we had not paid our bill for three months. (grrrr) I explained we gave the money to the school and they paid the bill. He showed me their online records (the internet worked for him to do this?!) which showed it had not been paid. (During this time I tried to keep my cool but I couldn't. Then when Greg rang that he was at a friend's having a beer and did I want to join, I was pissed. He's having a beer while I'm dealing with this!! By the end of the money collector's time at our flat, I think he couldn't wait to get the heck out of there. Poor guy, he was just sent to collect the money). I rang up Manish, our go to person for many things, and he spoke to the company guy. Manish let me know he had the receipt but it was at the school. (School was closed early Thursday due to an impending verdict about land - Muslim or Hindi. The whole country was worried about riots. The streets of Mumbai were empty, which was great for Greg and I to bike around. The judges could not agree with a verdict, so it's put off for three months). So, Manish said he could deal with it on Monday and we should just pay the bill. Monday comes, Greg took our receipt of paying the full amount to Manish (our internet was still not on after paying the full amount three days earlier) and handed it over to Manish. Quickly, Manish, not the internet company, figured out the company had not canceled the previous occupant's account, so two were open for our flat. It was corrected, we were assured that we would be credited for three months of service (only time will tell but I'm not holding my breath) and our internet would be back on. Mmmmm, nope. It was still not working on Tuesday. A technician was sent over on Wednesday afternoon. He tried a bunch of things and then called another person. That person told me I'd need to call the call center to get a new password. (I was over ranting at this point). I asked for the number, he didn't know it. I asked the technician and luckily he knew it by heart. Just as the woman said hello, the technician had it up and running. It took another two minutes to explain to the woman on the phone it was all fine. She still wanted a record to show that I had called and things were fine, so I gave her my account info and humg up. The Technician had "found" the correct password. Ahhhhhhhh! This company did not keep good records, shut off our internet before the bill was due and before the bill even arrived. Shutting off our service had cost them man hours and us disatisfaction. Was it worth it? In a country where so many things don't work well, this company has turning off services down pat. You just have to smile and say, "ah, India." BUT I've realized I've been frustrated with communication companies for YEARS. My conclution is communication companies all suck equally. At least we have internet again...and thankfully there is such thing as the internet. OM.