The Foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains

There is more to South Carolina than most people realize. You can drink a couple of beers every evening to kill time and enjoy the  generally good weather, but if you work a little harder, there are plenty of interesting places to be explored.

The northern part of the state lies at the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The north-west is surrounded by the Chattooga and the Savannah river and their tributaries. This means that there are plenty of lakes and hidden little creeks that sometimes end up forming hidden waterfalls.

To relax for the 4th of July weekend, my sister and I set out on the road towards Issaqueena Falls. With a road map, GPS, and signs off the highway, we were able to locate these falls situated within the Stumphouse Tunnel Park in Walhalla, SC. The descend to get a good view of the falls was steep and tiring, but it was well worth it.

Issaqueena Falls, Walhalla, SC

Afterwards, we set out for Ceasar's Head, the highest peak of the Blue Ridge in SC, to pay homage to the mountains that I someday plan to hike through. As evident from the photo below, the landscape is beautiful. As a bonus, we spotted a big beautiful lone wolf.

Blue Ridge Mountains

Clinica El Buen Samaritano - Good Samaritan Clinic

I started volunteering at the Good Samaritan Clinic this summer. It's a free clinic open to everyone, but primarily serves the Latin American/ Mexican immigrants.

Many states in the US have a huge population of Latin American immigrants. They are exploited because they work here illegally. Most of them work strenuous jobs as construction or farm workers but live on less than minimum wage, with little help from the community or state. Instead of addressing the issue of granting legal status and proper work benefits, many people and state governments have adopted an attitude of hostility towards these immigrants. South Carolina is among one of them. These states believe that the immigrants encroach upon job opportunities and enjoy the community resources without paying for them. The harsh reality is that many people refuse to work such laborious jobs. Americans are fed and housed because of these immigrants who, in return, don't enjoy any resources, including health benefits.

Today, at the Good Samaritan Clinic, I learned that by Federal Law, health centers/ hospitals are required to have translators for people who need assistance. However, most health institutions refuse to keep any. This hinders the migrant Spanish-speaking population in communicating with the doctors. The GSC is operated while taking care of these needs. It's a start, but its only a small center which lacks funding. It is open Tuesdays and Thursdays and because of lack of doctors willing to work for free, the GSC can provide basic primary health care to only 12-13 patients a day.

My friend and I are were glad we decided to spend some time this summer helping out. My spoken Spanish was rusty, but when we started working with the database entries, I felt much confident - I could put my medicinal knowledge into use.
If you live in a similar community, seek out places where you can help out as well. Help is always welcome.

If you want to know more about the clinic, check out the video below made by my friend, Sarah.


A Place to Feel Secure from Sarah Langdon on Vimeo.

Getting to Lake Jocassee!

Thrilled to find a fellow adventurist in my friend, Elizabeth, we set out with our kayaks towards Lake Jocassee in Salem, South Carolina.
The views after entering Greenville were beautiful! We drove through a small town called Pumpkintown (hehe). Narrow roads, cute little wooden houses, and a couple of pumpkin patches kept me happy throughout the drive.

View Lake Jocassee Trip in a larger map
There's a quaint little shop a couple of yards before the Devil's State Park - our entrance into Lake Jocassee - where we bought our snacks for lunch. Munching in the car, we gleefully entered the park...only to find out that all the spots for boat access were gone! Half- heartedly, I suggested we check out Lake Keowee's entrance, about 5 miles from there.
We struggled to find the entrance to the lake, but thanks to the iPhone, we were able to contact park manager and get the directions. When we finally got there, there was some confusion about parking. We turned around, and came back, and the spots were gone...
Frustrated, Elizabeth and I set out towards the Cherokee National Scenic Highway - the main  route to these lakes - once again. After getting out of the Long Creek Falls lane, we saw a sign displaying "Lake Jocassee Whitewater Falls". Since we had driven ~135 miles from home, Elizabeth and I were both determined to find some outlet into the water and set out to follow the sign. 10 miles into the road - no sign of the waterfalls, no sign of any body of water in the iPhone map, and low gas tank. The latter was an indication that we needed to turn around.
At the gas station, Eliza and I rejuvenated ourselves with water. We decided to go to the Devil's State Park once more before we headed home. We got there, were lucky as five spots had just been opened, and hurriedly unloaded our kayaks!

Maybe it was nature's plan to test our determination - make us struggle for two hours - before we could enjoy the divinity of the lake. White sands, beautiful crystal blue waters, and clean shores - the state of SC was taking very good care of maintaining the lake with the $2 admission fee.

We finally got down in the lake. The waters were cold and felt great in the summer heat. Jocassee is in a gorge, so towards the middle of the lake, one can feel the depth (going into about 300 feet or 91 m)! The cool breeze, light waves, and paddling with a view of the Blue Ridge Mountains in front of us was a profound experience. Fleet Foxes were singing in my head and I was in heaven. :) I requested, and Elizabeth sang me a funny French song. We both realized that as soon as we got into the lake, our frustrations had disappeared - as if the time driving up to it never existed.

"Fireforests" - The Majestic Longleaf Pines

Last Saturday morning, I set out for the Harbison State Forest (Columbia, South Carolina) to absorb in some landscape for my next painting. There were people with kids, bikes, kayaks, and canoes and I immediately thought to myself - "I wonder what all I have been missing out on". I started on a small trail - the Firewood trail. I decided to walk in a bit in search of a good view  so that I could sit and sketch.
It took me no time to realize that it had been a while since I had been surrounded by nothing but the "wilderness". The fine mulch and dried pine leaves on the floor, aroma of the pine trees, and being surrounded by the tall, majestic, silvery needled longleaf pines was an incredible experience. Needless to say, I could not make a stop for sketching as I wanted to enjoy the hike.
 
Amazing thing about the longleaf pine forests is that they are "fireforests". Their survival depends upon the removal of loblolly pines and others that encroach the land through annual low-intensity fires. Following germination of the seeds, the fire-resistant grass stage endures the fire. The longleafs  nurse a stunning diversity of wildlife comparable to that found in the Amazon. Unfortunately, it is one of the most endangered ecosystems in North America. What once stretched from southern Virginia to East Texas covering 90 million acres of land now remains in only about 3 million acres. These forests were replaced by loblollies and other pulp producing pine for obtaining hardwood and paper. They were also hampered by the southern people who did not think of fire as a useful tool in forestry.

Summer Paintings

Another madhubani painting on handmade paper.

Back on Blogger

I completed my senior thesis and graduated from college with a bachelor's degree. So this summer is supposed to be one of a kind. And indeed, there has been time for much thought and action, the sort that was not possible earlier due to lack of time and maturity.

A great irony lies at this stage of life. Realization of one's maturity, capacities, and accomplishments during the four years of college makes one realize how unaware, weak, and incompetent one really is. While there is much joy and relief at at least accomplishing the former, there is a deep sense of vagueness about the direction and identity of self.

On a more cheerful note, there was much time to sleep and invest in activities that I love. I share many common interests with my mother. One of them is gardening. I was able to help her construct two plots of land in the backyard - for herbs and vegetables. In the herb garden, we have thyme, coriander, basil, fenugreek, dill, rosemary, oregano, and mint.

The vegetable patch has tomatoes, bell peppers, chilli peppers, brinjal/eggplant, okra/ ladyfinger, garlic, zucchini, potatoes, and cucumbers. The tomato and okra plants have started bearing fruits. Zucchini grows and spreads more than expected. If you look closely, the stem below the flowers develops into the fruit!
We planted a couple of marigold flowers as we learned that they act as natural insect repellents! And we built a low "fence", of sorts, to keep our daily evening visitors - hares - from hopping into the patch :) .

Contrary to what one would expect, toiling in the sun, tending to baby plants, was much pleasurable. And a much needed respite from the world of academia and computers...

Reflections of Life in Delhi

After gaining substantial confidence as a writer, I finally decided to write a bit of a description of the things I cherished in my life in Delhi. As compared to the magnitude of contention, happiness, and wisdom that was imparted to me by that life, this piece is quite small. However, it does justice to the simple pleasures of life that are immensely appealing to the people of the city, and the children born to it. More recently, I have been feeling suffocated and writing this simple piece reminded me why I have been so miserable.


When I moved to Columbia five years ago, the transition from New Delhi was extremely difficult. The streets are quiet in the daytime, but even as evening approaches here, one can only notice the rush of cars. Coming from a city with a population of fifteen million and counting, existence seemed void in this city, which I labeled as a graveyard initially.

In Delhi, each day overwhelms one with the ostentatious presence of life.

I would wake up to the cacophonous noise of the crow, if not woken up by the neighbor shouting at her son to stop wasting time and get ready for school. The vibrancy of the birds borrowed from the mornings lured me to the balcony where I would smell the mint and sage bushes my mother had planted in our little rock garden. Next, I would check our rose and jasmine plants for any new buds and would eagerly anticipate getting the progress report of the ones gracefully opening up.

The next couple of minutes were spent with the biggest dilemma of my life- whether to finish the glass of warm milk I had been standing with for about twenty minutes, or not. As I saw the neighbor’s son pour it down the drain of his balcony, I decided to gulp-in mine. This mistake was always regretted because by the time I decided to drink the glass of whole milk, the crème settled on top of it made me gag.

The walks to and back from the bus stop always felt as if they would never end, especially in summer. The soles of our canvas shoes (part of our school uniform) let the heat from the tar seep in and kept me wondering each day if I would be able to get away without a blister.

In the monsoons however, the walks back were always fun. We pretended to have forgotten our umbrellas at school and had much fun getting drenched in rain. In the evening, or on a Sunday afternoon, we would always make sure to spend plenty of time on the rooftops so as to not miss our chance to see the peacocks that often perched on eucalyptus trees nearby. On better days, we often prayed for the rain to fall down like cats and dogs so that we could block the rooftop drains and make our own little swimming pool!

The evenings were a ritual of simply getting out of the house and letting the smells of the street-side food vendors tempt you. It was hard to resist not indulging in our senses into the spices that came along with those heavily fried snacks. To complement the flavors, the sweet and sour tamarind chutney always brought about the best justice.

After dark, when it was finally time to relax and focus on homework and studies, there were always people celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary or their newborn’s birthday and the loudspeakers forced everyone in the community to be a part of those celebrations. One could call the cops, but only in vain to find out that the noise dropped to a minimal amount for the fifteen minutes they spent inspecting the neighborhood and then went back up to its original levels.

Transporting myself out of that urban jungle though, I find that I have found much peace in my new home as well. I can walk by the Congaree river for hours, just hearing it collide with the rocks and happily let the sun warm my feet. I can actually witness each turn of the season - observe the changing fall colors and  “smell” spring.
The only sensation whose absence still tortures me is the monsoon season- lingering smell of the rain before it even hit the grounds, a splash from the puddles which destroyed my white school shirt every now and then, and the simple hope of gazing into the seemingly oblivious eyes of the beautifully shimmering peacocks.

Perhaps, it is my childhood I miss, rather than the place. But for now, I’d like to believe that going back will somehow simplify everything and I will reflexively run out as soon as it starts raining.

Perhaps, Hope Lies in the Creation of Environmental Palavers

I am taking a class called "Writing for Our Lives- Nature, Literature, and the End of the World".
 In the context of environmental change, behind the countless readings we did from a varied sources, I observed a disturbing trend. A majority of the authors were either interested in simply expressing their anguish and agitatation with humanity, population overload, and the fact that their rivers were not as pristine and secluded as they once were, or in ultimtaley stating that there is no solution for reversing the extent of damage we have done to our environment. Others are content with blaming lazy people, governments, etc. 

Today, I was introduced to quite an intriguing concept- a palaver.

Palaver is an assembly of people who recognize that they do not know enough to know how to solve a problem which we all face together. As traditionally believed, the strength of a palaver lies in the fact that each member comes with strong background in a certain discipline and is willing to offer his/her expertise on that. When the idea of a palaver for climate change was introduced in the class, I remained frustrated as I realized that if the arguments and the people chosen to construct them were not chosen carefully, the palaver would then just end up being a non-virtual blog full of opinions going in no particular direction. This reminded me of a recent modern day example- the Copenhagen Summit on climate change.

Copenhagen didn't get us the legally binding global carbon emission reduction agreement we wanted. To many it was a disappointment, a vindication of their fears that world leaders would fail to seize the moment and rise above national self-interest to secure a historic climate treaty. It was the failure of a broad and a large-scale palaver discussing how to tackle climate change on a global scale. However, the more I analyzed it, I realized that another important consideration into creating a palaver that would give a fruitful result is to make these palavers on a small scale. Failure of the summit on large scale resulted because every country stands amongst a different kind of economic stature, lifestyle, construct of the economy within the society and thus, different demands from each other and amongst its people within itself. Therefore, this opens up an opportunity for businesses, local communities, and individuals to create their own palavers- assess their ways of thinking amongst their small surroundings, and see what works for them best, despite the lack of a national or even an international political consensus.

Local palavers and initiatives stemming out of their discussions can be replicated by groups across countries and nations can deliver substantial practices in fighting local climate change. The idea is that once these are successful and replicated with necessary tweaking in other regions, the beneficial local climate change in one or perhaps two small regions multiplies by 500 regions and so on. At the same time, they can drive the mass shift in attitude and behavior that is needed to tackle climate change.

The key at the root of any solution stemming from these palavers is to use incentives to engage people to become a part of both the economic and practical solutions that are needed. Following are a few examples that illustrate this idea.

CRERAL is a co-operative in south Brazil that supplies electricity via the grid to 6,300 mainly rural customers in the area. To increase the capacity and improve the reliability of its supply, it has built two river-based, low-tech, low-cost mini-hydro plants (0.72 and 1.0 MW capacity) that produce about 5.5 GWh of electricity a year, or 25% of overall demand .

In northern Tanzania, the Mwanza Rural Housing Programme (MRHP) trains villagers to set up enterprises making high-quality bricks from local clay, fired with agricultural residues rather than wood. As houses are now built from bricks instead of woods, not only does this reduce deforestation, the bricks have been used in more than 100,000 homes in 70 villages, providing improved comfort and durability .

Such practices not only create a solution for the local communities, but they also set up case examples which can be carefully studied and implemented in other communities. Moreover, holding a palaver and implementing its solutions locally alleviates the lack of control that people often feel in the midst of such policies because they may affect them but not benefit them, at least in immediate monetary terms (If everyone understood and happily accepted the long-term benefits green initiatives, things would be a lot easier). This problem can be tackled as well as the industries initiated by the policy- in our case example the hydro-plant or the brick factory- can be privately bought and sold so as to gain profits from their own small scale establishment by eliminating costs of acquiring it from elsewhere.

After contemplating on this topic for a bit, I realized that the creation of palavers could be extremely powerful in tackling climate change by implementing environmentally conscious habits. However, before the creation of any such palaver, it is most imperative that the affecting region is local, and a definitive objective is set which incentivizes and empowers people. This will lead to support and resources for the people and practical local climate change solutions will follow. Meanwhile, as big global deals are being sought, the local communities will already be moving-on with the task at hand.

Book Binding and Book Arts

I attended the 3 day Southeast Association for Book Arts 2009 conference at the University of South Carolina this summer. I have always known about book arts but I was never aware of the growing community and the varying and extensive binding and decorating techniques that existed.

The workshops included basic book making by Kathy Strother, origami and tunnel books by Andrea Dezso, Wooden Covers and Mica Pages by Daniel Essig, and some printmaking workshops. Interestingly, none of the artists seemed quite possessive of their talents and were very willing to share it with everyone, which made the experience pleasant and wonderful!

I was very glad to take Essig's workshop and learned a technique called the Ethiopian style coptic binding. It included doing finishing work, painting, polishing, drilling, and carving wooden covers on our own for the books. It was a tremendous experience and if you are interested and ever get a chance to work with him, grab that opportunity!

Pictures along with this post are the books that I made during the workshop!

18 Year Olds Must Travel Alone...

...and ignore all the advice from friends that goes against the idea.

I always wished to travel and explore a city and its people all alone. The idea of seeing it with only my perspective gave me the highest thrills. So my last day in CA, I took the VTA Light Rail from Dowtown Mountain View and reached San Jose Conventional City Center in an hour.
This was finally the moment I had been living for. This was it, the beginning of an adventure.
As soon as the train passed and I faced the city, it dawned on me that I was a terribly meak and little creature to be alone in that enormous city.
Regardless, I mustered up some courage and starting walking towards the sign that said "Tech Museum round the corner." I thought that this would be the start of it. So I reached the museum, got in, decided that it wasn't worth seeing even before I saw any of it, and got out. Across the street was a little park and fountain. I thought that it was a nice place to ask for directions from people. I found out that the Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum was about 3 mules away but the Art Museum was just around the corner.

Did I mention that I was on foot? Also, never go to the San Jose Art Museum on a Monday-it is closed.

Then I started the hunt for a bus that would take me to the Egyptian museum. The drivers who drove the downtown shuttle had no clue. It toom me half an hour to figure out that I could probably call the number on the bus stop and inquire. FYI bus # 81 takes you to the corner of Naglee and Park Avenue where the museum is and it takes about half an hour if you are standing on the intersection of Almaden Ave. and San something street.
It was already 4:15 and I was starving. So, I decided to look for some place to eat. On the way, I saw the Guadalupe River Park and decided to go there even though my body was dead from walking in the sun. Once there, I realized that it demanded a lot more time than I had. So once again I kept on asking random strangers if they knoew of any food joints nearby. No one did.
After another 20 minutes or so, McDonald's came around the corner to save the day. So I finished my lunch and saved the cookies to munch on along the way because I was terrified.
I finally caught the train back to Mountain View before daybreak because once there, I had to walk a considerable amount of distance to catch the bus back home and I didn't want to do that in the night.
I had a 100 epiphanies and learned a 1000 lessons:

• Get a map! I thought I'd be able to find a gas station and a map from there; obviously that wasn't what happened.


• PLAN the "adventure". It sounds really cool and fun to be spontaneous and go with energy but it completely fails.


• Get a companion! So that if you give yourself false encouragements, he/she can knock the facts at your face before it's too late. Also, their brain can work when yours is scared and panicked and hungry.


• Take a cycle? perhaps?


• It would also be better to be in touch with someone who knows their way around the city.

Anyway, it was quite ironic that every who tried to dissuade me from doing such a thing in the first place had to listen to my rants of how I am almost 19, have a brain and common sense, and can talk in English!

None of that actually worked. So I hope, fellow travellers, that you see the moral of the story.

Although, I'd like to add that I was glad I did something that took me straight out of my comfort zone and forced me to put myself into situation that challenged my abilities. Also, I got to do such an incredibly stupid thing at the age of 18 and not at 48...