Maybe a phone in the heel is an added feature

One of my colleagues in Chennai recently discovered that the Rockport shoe company actually manufactures a shoe titled the Vice Consul (a title that hard-working, leathery, and flexible visa officers have carried for decades).



From the Amazon product description:
"The Rockport Men's Vice-Consul Oxford is a stylish lace up oxford. It is great for the office or going out to dinner. Calf skin leather uppers that are soft and pliable provide quality comfort and style. [...]It features a removable footbed, a full grain leather upper is easy to clean and maintain, a fiberlon shank support that provides lightweight midfoot support, and is airport friendly."

Pliable, stylish, easy to clean and maintain, airport friendly, great for the office or going to dinner -- I mean, while it would contribute more to career field recognition if there were a sleek motorcycle or sports car that bore the same title as my business card, I think I'll settle for a sensible piece of footwear for now. Maybe by the time I reach Minister Consul level, the marketers will have come to their senses.

Spring Break USA

I recently had the good fortune to drink tap water without reserve, take walks without looking over my shoulder for errant autorickshaws, eat ice cream, and, most enjoyably, spend time visiting friends and family. Here is a selection of photos. It was a little shocking how quickly I could adjust to the radical change in assumptions about my surroundings (granted, I visited only places I was extremely familiar with). And so, now back in Chennai, I'm refreshed and ready for the next unexpected surprise that India will inevitably serve up.


--View over the Missouri River from Ponca State Park towards South Dakota and, in the far background, Iowa

Sunday Walk in RK Puram

February 11th, I took a morning walk through Ramakrishnan Puram, a Chennai neighborhood near mine. Flavored as it was by India's dose of sensory overload--the warm gritty smell of the choked Buckingham canal, women dressed spotlessly in their best colorful saris, honking horns, men emptying their bladders on walls, dusty trash, and the omnipresence of people, people, and more people--it was also an insightful two-hour sliver of some of the ups and downs about Chennai and India. And once I got off of the main roads and back into the neighborhoods teeming with residents, I felt less on-guard about traffic and could look around more. Pumping water, fixing cars, playing, working, sleeping, cooking. Click here to see my pictures.



The pictures speak for themselves, but they can't capture the sounds. At one point, I walked past a yoga center, where a bored guard was sitting by the gate. We didn't share enough words in common except "Sunday holiday, no open." I glanced over the reading list, and then put my shoes back on to go, and as I walked away, the guard put his hand out for a tip, "helping." I just left with a smile and a wave.

Along one road, the drivers of trucks and autorickshaws were tinkering with motors and repairing vehicles. Usually there are auto drivers asleep in their cabs or lounging nearby, but everything is more relaxed on a Sunday. As I approached one cab, I could hear three boys playing inside. Each one was beating a stick against a notebook-sized chunk of styrofoam packing, in rhythm and singing at the top of his lungs.

After walking through the St. Mary's Cemetary, I wandered back towards the church and crossed through an intersection where several local and national political parties had their banners waving, constiuents loitering, arguing, discussing. I had just visited a cemetary of the Christian minority, wandered past a few Hindu temples and shrines, and then a Muslim man in a festive mood coaxed each of his three shy children to practice their English "hellos" and "how-do-you-dos" on me.

And all this before 10 a.m.