Such a Beautiful Creature, the Feral Dog...

No matter how many times the travel nurses told me to "expect wild animals," I still wasn't fully prepared for the packs on packs on packs of stray dogs roaming the Mumbai streets. I have had a few dubious experiences with dogs, so I'm generally weary of any pup without a leash. However, my roommates were quick to dissuade my worries, noting "They never do anything. Just don't pet them..."

Indeed, the dozen or so doggies I pass on a given street block here all seem focused on finding the next heap of trash to procure their daily 'noms, and pay little attention to the general insanity of India day-to-day traffic and street life. I eventually grew accustomed to the constant canine presence -- until now.

The New York Times ran an article today on India's street dogs, and once again, I am given reason to never ever trust my roommate's advice on anything ever. According to The Times, 80,000 people were bitten in Mumbai alone last year...and 20,000 people die every year in India from rabies infections, the vast majority of which are dog-inflicted. 

I had thought rabies was a 28 Days Later sort of deal, where those bitten run around biting other people until you stick them with the antidote...a quick Google search proved me wrong, as well as leading me to more then a few grim lil' Web MDs who classify rabies as "inevitably fatal." Well then.

Oh yeah, and these ain't wild pugs roaming the streets...these are "Indian pariah dogs," which The Times describes as "similar in appearance to other prehistoric dogs like the Australian dingo." 

Now granted, 80,000 bites in one year means that about 0.6% of the Mumbai population gets bitten. And maybe the government's most recent plan to spray the dogs with ink to take poll of their ranks will help the situation...or it could just result in a bunch of ink-covered, pissed-off dogs. That Indian government is a wonder, isn't it?

If only this is what we were dealing with here...

India to Jim O'Neill: "Shut up, you're not even my real Dad!"

Maybe it's just because I live with other five other post-college twenty-somethings, but at times this country seems like it's organized with all the care and common sense of a hormonally challenged, demotivated adolescent. So I guess I wasn't surprised that the hardass father of the BRICs, Jim O'Neill of Goldman Sachs, would speak to the country en masse as if he were talking to his loser teenage son.

"The country's huge power blackouts highlight once more the scale of their challenges, and at the same time, ongoing economic indicators lead more to scale back cyclical GDP forecasts. In addition, they are the one BRIC nation that doesn't appear to be here on mass in London. What is the matter with you guys?"

"Dammit, India!" O'Neill went on to say. "You forgot to take out the trash...again...and hell if your gonna sit on your ass all summer while your friends are out playin' sports. Get your shit together, son!"

"Clone High" had Gandhi right all along...

I was also discouraged to see that O'Neill specified India as the BRIC that has disappointed him the most at a recent investor conference. Well, O'Neill, you may not be proud of your son's report card, so to speak, but that poke at the lack of athletic prowess is just a low blow -- just wait till they put cricket in the Olympics! India is still too big and fast-growing to count out...O'Neill knows this...and the computer nerds always get the last laugh anyway. As a proud hanger-on of computer nerds, I hope to be laughing right there with 'em. Either that or getting back to Virginia and kissing that sweet, stable American soil, I haven't really decided yet.

Olympics in India

Friday night's Olympics opening ceremony happened to coincide with a bout of food poisoning -- or whatever the hell makes you nauseous for 48 hours straight without actually throwing up. I haven't missed an opening ceremony since 1992 -- e.g. before I was conscious of the "Olympics" -- so I tried my best to stay awake, but at 12:30 a.m. nothing remotely opening ceremony-esque was showing up on the live feed, so I left my crowd of multicultural comrades in the living room and schlepped to bed. Around 5 a.m, my roommate opened the bedroom door, plopped down on his floor mattress and fell asleep. Apparently blinding hallway light and unmistakable party sounds from the living room don't bother sleeping East Africans, but I -- with my high-and-mighty bed frame and Western standards -- was immediately jarred awake.

This whole post might be a passive-aggressive jab at my roommate, were it not for the fact that his eccentric sleeping habits allowed me to hear the unmistakable sounds of the Olympic opening ceremony from the living room. Thanks, bro!

So, with a twinkle in my eye and the spirit of the Games in my heart, I skipped down the hallway and found a pack of roommates, friends and associates watching the London march of athletes on a moderately-sized computer screen. I squeezed in between one roommate from Peru and another associate from Egypt on the couch, and commenced the gossiping and screen-shouting.

Watching the opening ceremony certainly made me proud to be American, particularly when comparing team strengths and weaknesses with my internationally diverse array of  comrades. "Oh, how many athletes does Serbia have this year? 115? Ya, America has 529, soooo....y'knowwwww..."

Really though, I was pretty lucky to be able to watch an Olympics ceremony with an incredibly diverse crew. Hearing other country's takes on the Games was interesting to say the least. Among other conclusions, I've deduced that pretty much the only time anyone in the world watches swimming is during the Olympics.

Now if I can just get my roommates to watch some Team USA basketball with me, I can really get an ego boost...

Go forth, grand athletes! Make America proud!

Guar: The Little Bean That Could

Of all the national policy issues that campus activists continually rallied around during my four years of college, hydrofracking was probably the most incendiary. Perhaps it was because I went to school in central New York...home to layers upon layers of precious, precious shale oil. Oil best obtained by hydrofracking, of course, although there's a slew of water pollution and environmental degradation issues that come with the territory. You can see some of the strong reactions against fracking in the video below, which I helped produce:

I really liked the activists in the videos above. They were chill. But that doesn't mean I'm about to leap behind every "bleeding-heart smellfare" program -- or "save the environment" mumbo jumbo -- they support.

Thus, I'd be interested to see how some Wavy Gravy's react to this recent New York Times' article, which extols the financial benefits of guar bean production for poor northwest Indian farmers. Yeah, guar beans...which are a crucial ingredient in HYDROFRACKING!

Indeed, this lil' guy's price has skyrocketed in the past few months because of energy companies' increasing demand -- and the fact that the bean is in limited supply and only grows in particularly arid, desert-like climates.

And these farmers are making a killing on guar. Says one Sohan Singh, "Now...we have a house made of stone."

iT'S your choice, activists! Save the Indian farmers or save the environment! You can't have both!

But on the real....this is a tricky economic policy issue (not to mention environmental...and social...), and showcases how important it is to have export diversity in an economy. In the guar-producing parts of Rajasthan, the economy depends primarily on agriculture -- a relatively fickle business, especially when the farmers there are not exactly using high-technology, high-yield techniques. It's like relying on the Rain Gods to supply your salary every year.

That doesn't mean I'm not rooting for them; go 'head, Mr. Singh! Milk them energy companies for all their worth!