The Times of India has a brief article about the major contributor to the Gujarati Wikipedia and Gujarati Wiktionary. (Gujarati is the language of Gujarat, an Indian state in the northwest of the country.) As the article notes, the primary contributor (Yann Forget, who recently ran for the WMF board ) is not Indian, but French; there’s a charming story about how he came to know the Gujarati language, but I will defer to the article for that.

I’m not intimately familiar with every WMF wiki, but several smaller ones seem to have a similar story as the Gujarati wikis mentioned here — all the work is done by one or two very dedicated individuals, and if that core leaves, the project goes silent. Of course, we can blame much of this on either issues of scale (few speakers), issues of availability (few people with free time and decent Internet connectivity), or some combination of the two. Sadly, those issues are beyond the scope of the Wikimedia Foundation.

The next best hope for some smaller wikis, then, would be emigrants, expatriates, students, and foreigners. The Gujarati wikis, for example, might benefit from Gujarati speakers who live in the UK (especially around London, Leicester, Coventry, and Bradford). To get these people to contribute to Gujarati wikis, though, they first need to know that Gujarati wikis exist. (The Times of India article helps with that, though they could have at least posted a link.) On top of this, UK-based Gujarati speakers need to be nudged to spend more time on the Gujarati wikis than on the English Wikipedia; after all, the Gujarati wikis need a lot more help than en.wp.

It doesn’t help, of course, that the North American press tends to focus on the English Wikipedia. (Seriously, the only non-enwiki mentions I’ve seen lately have been about dewiki’s flagged revisions test; dewiki’s adventures in paper publishing; the ten millionth Wikipedia article, which was posted in huwiki; and an occasional en.wikinews story that “makes it” to the mainstream media.) Whenever possible, we should be reminding the press about the existence of other wikis — and not just the English projects!

THE LAST DAY. There’s no distinct division between yesterday’s stuff and today’s, so this picks up right around midnight on Valentine’s 2001.

To the NSA people reading this: in the first paragraph, I’m pointing out an obvious flaw in airport security in Chennai. Had I actually tried anything of the sort, I imagine one of the pleasant ‘n’ well-armed military types wandering the airport would have interrupted me, perhaps with a hail of gunfire. (resisting the urge to crack a Cheney joke here)

First, security check — my nasty green monster got a sporting new plastic band, but carry-on was left without. Strangely, though, as I discovered, I could have carried in weapons/explosives/etc. in the carry-on, transferred them to Greenie, and gotten them onboard — the plastic band, while effective on suitcases, was pointless on frame packs. <evil thoughts>

Couldn’t check in for 90 minutes at least, so I settled in with some nice techno and Anglo-Saxon epic poetry. Considered phoning my mom (there! American spelling triumphs!), but since I had/have Re. 1/- in cash on me, and they would only take rupees in cash, skipped that.

Eventually got to queue up for check-in. Promos!

• All passengers got a little heart pin and chocolate or cookie.
• They’d have a drawing for 2 return tix to London (Club World class, 1 up from “World Traveller” or coach) for all those at the gate by 03:30. At this writing, however, I’m not sure if that’s only Chennai< ->London… eep.

Checked in after fending off clowns and filling out paperwork. Got boarding passes for all 3 legs of my exhaustive itinerary and a snazzy tag for the blue carry-on. Say goodbye, Greenie! (Or should I call you Grendel?)

We now jump 9 months ahead in time, because jeem didn’t bother to work any further on the journal during this trip or its immediate aftermath.

(Oct 14 2001 Chicago)
OK — recap —

• Chennai< ->London RT drawing, I lost.
• Flight to London uneventful.
• At Heathrow, I wound up helping a young Jordanian woman (with baby and rambunctious kid in tow) get to her flight. The big challenge: she spoke no English, I no Arabic. We made it, though, with a little help from a Royal Saudi employee.
• Bought the following duty-free:

• Earl Grey, loose, in cobalt blue tin for my mother. Damn, it’s good shit.
• Pint glasses w/four bar mats for Ed.
• Brown Brothers 1997 Merlot. For my father, even though I wound up drinking 2 glasses. Awesome, awesome, awesome wine.

… and thus we stop the “official” record.

• As a result of this trip, Ed has learned never to ask me to bring him some tacky tchotchke from a duty-free shop. This is primarily because the duty-free shop at Chennai consists of liquor and cigarettes; no tacky tchotchkes in sight. So instead he got cheesy pub glasses from the Heathrow Harrod’s.
• I had a little spare time at Heathrow, so I stopped in for a drink. Unfortunately, just as I was tucking into a lovely pint, I glanced up at the monitor to see that my flight was boarding. And freaked.

  Friends, never chug Newcastle Brown.

  Additionally, after chugging a pint of a substantial beer, never attempt to run with a heavy backpack through an airport terminal.

• Later that year, my father tried to claim that the Brown Bros. wine was something he had found online. I was able to disprove his claim, though, by looking them up online and pointing out that they did not ship to the Western Hemisphere at that time. (They returned to the US market in 2004, though. yay!)
• The young Jordanian woman was trying to get to Los Angeles. Apparently somebody would meet her there.
• Once I got to O’Hare… well, it was sleeting. Hard.

  In an attempt to stave off jet lag, I decided to have tea (it was 16:00). Unfortunately, the only thing I could find was Starbucks’ let’s-raid-the-spice-cabinet chai latte. It was VERY hot and tasted nothing like anything I had in India, but I had no other option.

  As I took my first sip, I glanced at the monitor and discovered that my flight from ORD to STL had been cancelled. I didn’t chug the tea, though — hot, remember? — instead I carried it with me as I ran to the nearest customer service counter for my airline.

  I had somehow come away with two heart-pins from Chennai Airport, so after the frazzled young woman at the counter got me onto a later flight on a different airline I gave her one and wished her a happy Valentine’s Day.

  I called home and my employer, then wandered O’Hare for a bit before finding some dinner. (I don’t know why, but I love to wander airports and see all the stuff that nobody else notices.)

  New flight was as uneventful as only flights between St. Louis and Chicago can be. (though I had been awake for over 48 hours by that point, I was plenty caffeinated and on my fourth or fifth wind.)

• When I got home, my youngest brother had TP’d my bed. Having just returned from 3 weeks in a place where toilet paper was almost unheard-of, I was mortified.
• Because I know somebody is going to ask: a jug of water and the left hand.
• After I got back, I specifically avoided Indian restaurants for a couple weeks, because I knew they just couldn’t compare. When I finally did decide to have Indian food again, though, I picked a restaurant frequented by young NRIs (Non-Resident Indians) who worked downtown.

  However, I went back on Ash Wednesday. Right after noonday services.

  Turns out ash smudges on foreheads are starkly reminiscent of bindis…

That’s all for now. I’m working on an omnibus summary of my experiences to be posted when I’m satisfied with it, and will be posting more pics from this trip tomorrow.

One day left…

Tuesday, 13 February 2001

Up at 06:30 as we approached Chennai Central. Sat watching until we arrived at 07:30. Anto T*’s driver met me and we left in the autorickshaw. This time, though, I was a tad bored by the ride, thinking about how I’d get the rest of the gifts I’d need instead of my eternal destiny.

Arrived at the ’stead about 08:00 — dropped my stuff in Sanju’s room and took a nice shower. Water ran out partway, so I wound up sorta going Indian-style for the rest of it — filled the jug from the sink tap and rinsed off the soap. Breakfast — “Chocos”, a Western-style cold cereal (”with BeBig Shakti” and a “slurpy new taste”) with hot milk, eggs, rice-flour cakes, and a wonderfully spicy sauce. Wrote and checked mail and watched TV (Airplane! was on — Sanju thought it hilarious) on and off until lunch (rice, chicken, vegetables). Noticed a small split in the skin on my right index finger, which wound up hurting when the hot stuff got in there. Made plans to get the last of the India stuff at 17:00. Wrote; now FINALLY caught up.

<01:24 14/02/2001 Chennai Airport>
Wrote and watched TV until 18:30, when we took off for Spencer Plaza. I got:

• carved wooden elephant (Bob)
• carved wooden Buddha (Ed)
• carved sandalwood elephant and howdah
• cast bronze Shiva head (my desk)
• T-shirt (Dan)
• cardamom and turmeric ($CO-WORKER)
• curry powder and saffron (Dad)
• top-grade Darjeeling (self)
• nice shirt, long sleeve, plaid (duh, me)

From there, to a gift/bookshop — Sanju had to get something for his GF for Valentine’s. I wound up getting another book like this (for the $LOCAL_CLUB) and the Seamus Heaney translation of Beowulf (to read at airports). All told, I spent about 3000 rupees; not bad… Back at the house, where I “persuaded” all the crap into the big green oppressor and puttered around until 21:30. Sanju, Thomas (his Kairali cousin), and I went to a decent veg A/C place for dinner (masala dosa and a weird onion pancake, with coffee). Back at the house as I finished packing, changed shirts, put on deodorant, and gave a few last goes in the lavvy. (Not a coprophiliac, I am not a coprophiliac…) By this time, it was 23:30. We loaded up the car and took off in classic Formula One fashion. hehe. 110 km/h through crowded Chennai streets… it’s something to be experienced. (Though it could have used a much better soundtrack — Sanju, you’re a great guy, but your taste in music leaves a hell of a lot to be desired. Please, repeat after me: Bryan Adams is not a god, Bryan Adams is not a god…) Arrived, parked. I demonstrated just how strapping I had become by donning my 25kg pack and leaping effortlessly from kerb to kerb. (dear God, they’re affecting my spelling.) Final goodbyes and e-mail addy exchange before I ventured into the semiknown world of Chennai International Departures.

That’s a pretty good stopping point; since I didn’t go to sleep that night, the diary just keeps. on. going. until it stops at O’Hare.

• After dinner that night we stopped for lassi; as we were there getting it, though, there was a power outage. The lassi shop had a generator and only had a moment of darkness, but the rest of the neighborhood was pitch black.
• I almost made the secondary title up there “with BeBig Shakti”. The FDA won out, though.
• Dan, if you’re reading this: T-shirts are not always easy to find in foreign countries.
• That curry powder was goooood stuff.
• The saffron was extra-cheap, something like fifty cents an ounce.

Tomorrow: jeem considers good places to sleep at Heathrow and O’Hare as he makes his way home.

It’s a travel day!

Monday 12 February 2001

Hey, I got to sleep in… to 08:00! Breakfast and packing. 10:30, to the National Association for the Blind’s Kerala HQ. Got the “Your mother’s in the field, therefore you must find this fascinating” tour — showed my ignorance of Braille, had tea, got some candles (notice a theme?), left. Picked up some sandalwood soap (woo-hoo!) on the way back. Achamma gave me a little brass lamp, which got packed (that thing is so full). Lunch before going to the train station — leftovers got wrapped in banana leaves from consumption as dinner. Also sent — a bottle of water (boiled municipal) and some almost-ripe red plantains.

Got to the station (I already had the ticket, 2AC, so no trouble there) and found my car and seat. Locked down my bags and got rid of Josey before we pulled out of hte station. It would be a long trip (17 hrs), so I broke out my Walkman and listened to my new tapes. (”The Sun Is Shining”, the remixed Bob Marley tune, did in fact remind me of rubber trees.)

Not much else happened. Met a nice elderly Aussie who reminded me of Lloyd Bridges. Used the Indian-style latrine, yee-haw. Ate dinner and hit the sack.

The sandalwood soap got me laid several times, since it smells VERY nice and makes the skin VERY soft and touchable.

The banana-leaf wrapping for dinner served as both container and plate; when done, it is typically chucked out the window or door of the moving train. (It’s biodegradeable.)

Tomorrow: jeem returns to Chennai and buys things.

It’s a boring day. Sorry.

Sunday 11 February 2001

Why the fuck do these people get up so early?

Got my stuff together (including this book) and headed out to KSV’s house. Had a great read (The Dilbert Future, hilarious!) and nice nap in a quiet room. Breakfast was eggs, toast, and corn flakes, then a quick spot of reading before we left.

To an all-day Club Leader Training at TechnoPark, a government-funded IT park on the outskirts of town. Fantastic facilities, but the meeting was so dry. Much of it was in Malayalam, so I sat in the back, zoned, wrote in here, and read materials for most of the day. Spoke very briefly — typical BS — and chatted with a bunch of people (mostly same questions). Had a good conversation with a young psychologist about accents and little annoying quirks of Indian culture (such as the tendency to not listen). Sadly, though, our conversation was cut off by the end of the tea break, and he left soon after. Dinner after drinks (I skipped the alcohol and stood on the terrace drinking club soda for a while) — typical, typical, typical. Got heavy sales pitches from 2 guys about the park itself, but had a rough time explaining that my company couldn’t rent out space… home about 21:30; after fruit, a shower and bed.

Boring, yes. Although I did get to meet a legendary singer of the Malayalam film world whose name I now cannot recall. And boy, was that mango ever fresh…

Tomorrow: jeem leaves Trivandrum and spends hours upon hours on the night train to Chennai.

Only three entries left!