If you have very sharp eyes or a magnifying glass, the map below might give you a sense in the whole scheme of things as to where Vellore and our beach stay written about below are. Or, better yet, just do "google maps" for "Vellore, India" and "Kerela."
We arrived by train the morning of January 2 (Wednesday) in a city I can't remember the name of (Can anyone help me out here and I'll edit?). A little white hired car looking like it stepped out of a 1930s or 40s movie and its driver were waiting for us thanks to Elliott. It was quickly surmised that seven of us plus our luggage (albeit light for a big trip) were not going to fit into the car. So another identical little white hired car was quickly engaged and we were split between them.
While this was going on, one of our saddest beggars came scuttling around our feet. His legs were bent and seemingly useless and he scooted on his bottom using his hands. It so much reminded me of the legless beggar in
A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. This beggar, who plays a major part in the book, was probably purposely maimed as an infant in order to make him a more effective beggar--as at least used to be not uncommon. In the book, beggars were part of groups controlled by a beggar master (like a pimp) who got all the income and supported the beggars out of it in some meager fashion. Elliott says this is still prevalent and that that is why you should find other ways to help beggars than giving them alms, as they will be taken away from them.
Steeling ourselves for another car drive, we were whisked away through the town and then out of it and into more village-like settings, down narrow lanes, realizing from the smell and type of the vegetation that we were coming near the ocean. Finally, we drove down a dirt path with high dirt banks (above the car) on either side and stopped. We had arrived!
We stretched, got luggage, and filed through a narrow gate, took a few steps towards the edge of the bluff. . . and this is what we saw -- paradise on the Arabian Sea!
Turning around the other way was our home for three days and nights, a cheery and clean house of three separate bedrooms , each with its own bath and door to the outside. The beds were again just wooden platforms with foam pads nicely made up with mosquito nets over most, a desk , and a place to hang things, plus the bathroom (yea! Western style toilets!... but otherwise just a large tiled room with shower head coming out beside toilet and sink and an assortment of wolf spiders hanging about.).
Except for sleeping, we spent our time there outdoors either on our veranda, where all our meals were brought to us in covered pots and also our hot masala (We call it chai.) tea three or four times a day by three local villagers whose job it was to cater to our needs. I'm sorry I don't seem to have a picture of them. I thought I did.
Here is the retaining wall just to the side of our house with the ocean through the palms. Immediately below our house dug out of the bluff going down to the beach, three workers (two men and a woman) were building a new house, as demand for this type of vacation is on the rise. It was interesting to see the process, completely by hand of carrying the large bricks (like you see in the wall), laying the mortar, and just seeing the walls go up brick by brick which will then be stucoed over, as our house was. The bricks were carried on the head of the woman mostly, who was wearing a large smock over flowing skirt. At the end of each day, she washed in a basin of water and rewrapped her beautiful sari, wet and combed her long hair neatly, and left her smock to hang for the next day.
Steve's body clock does not readjust very quickly, so he was up before dawn the next morning. The pictures below are of the sunrise over the Sea. I think perhaps you can see some of the subtle changes.
Below is looking to the north rather than the south in the full morning light.
Our occupations during our days in paradise can be summed up in just a few words and phrases: read, read, and read some more, swim in the 75 degree water for a long, long time, play games, lay on the beach or in the hammock and stare out into space listening to the throb of the waves on the shore, eat, drink hot tea with cream and sugar, have conversation, sleep.
Though the picture doesn't do the experience justice, I had to take a picture of what it looked like laying flat on the sand and staring up through the palms as the fronds clacked gently in the sea breeze.
Was the beach as empty as it appeared? Yes, it was. At any one time the most non-Garbers on the beach were about five--a British couple and another British family and the occasional Indian fisherman or school boy checking out the folks on the beach (They were usually hanging around on the bluff in the trees afer school hours.).
We followed local tradition and conventional wisdom and put on our cover-ups when out of the water.
The jacket and hood were more for protection from the mosquitos than the chill.
Morning view from bed through the pink mosquito net and out the window.
Some of the kids took a 10 minute walk up the high-banked lane to the village of shops. Eden found a little women's tailor shop and ordered an outfit. So the next morning Steve and I walked to the same, chose material, and I ordered a tunic, pants and scarf. They were to be ready for me by 5:00 that afternoon. In the walk, we passed the local school which is the building in this picture.
Steve on the village street
Here is what we called "The Flower Truck." It seemed to be going from house to house either selling potted flowers or replenishing the ones they had on some sort of prior agreement. The Indians value their flowers a great deal.
Jessica here is receiving a "sand treatment," good for exfoliating the skin.
We have to get the kids in a beach picture if we can!
Here I am with my lady tailors, holding the material which became my outfit. I guess smiling for pictures isn't customary, but they did enjoy looking at the picture in the camera afterwards. Whoa--Am I really that much taller than all of them?
The high-banked lane to the village
Here is the finished product. I'm looking forward to wearing it this week at our school's International Night :).
Fallen palm under which we sat for shade and sat upon for fun
So hard to leave paradise, but aren't we glad we have the hope of seeing it again...and all the other incredible places we'll get to explore in the New Earth/New Heavens. As Steve always says, "I want to spend a milenium in ____________" Add to that Kerela on the Arabian Sea.
Soon after I noticed it, a robin mother began sitting in it regularly. I was worried because every time we came out the door or drove the car in, we would startle her. 
When Elliott was home, he peeked in and saw three beautiful blue eggs. I decided it would be fun to photograph the nest from above when she wasn't sitting, of course. I never jiggled or touched the nest. I hoped to make a little slide show to show my kids at school since we had recently read a story all about chicks hatching and they were VERY interested and curious about it.
Last Saturday I held the camera way up and snapped my picture. This is what I saw in the picture! I never was able to actually see in the nest, my pictures were showing me what was there. If you look very closely, you can see the egg has a crack in it.
On Sunday I snapped my picture, and I couldn't believe it! I snapped another one--it was the same. The nest was completely empty and cleaned out. There were no shell fragments or feather fragments. There were no dead babies on the ground or shells underneath the bush. The only thing I could notice is that the edge of the nest was no longer as neat and tidy as it had been but the straw around it was looser.
This has been my heart ache this week: Where did the little mother go? Did my presence and interest cause her to "clean out" her nest? But how would she and why-without a trace? My internet research tells me that it is more likely a predator--racoon, possum, snake, crow, blue jay, even squirrel. It seems like the bush is too spindly to support the first two at least. I don't know. . .only that they are gone w-i-t-h-o-u-t - a - t-r-a-c-e. Spooky. . . and sad:(.
