People that have restored my faith in humanity despite me spending all day at work reading about poverty, corruption & social development failures

4. The random guy on a Mac. After a rough Wednesday night, I was having trouble concentrating in the unusually quiet and extremely birghtly lit office. I escaped to a coffee shop so I could sit comfortably on a couch to finish reading and indulge in free wifi and delicious coffee (Kleio beats Coffee Central because they have a restroom!). A colleague of mine immediately connected to the wifi (on her PC) and for some reason, I was having too much trouble on my Mac. Disgruntled, hungover and really wanting to check my email, I was uber frustrated at my many failed attempts. Having seeing a random guy on a Mac when I entered the café, I figured it might be worth my while to go and check with him to see if he was able to connect online. He said he was and told me to bring my computer over and motioned for me to have a seat. After a few quick minutes of configuring this and that and opening and closing windows, he quickly fixed the problem and connected me to the Internets.

The random guy on a Mac restored my faith in humanity and introduced me to a whole new world of amazing coffee shops with fast (and free) wifi.

3. The observant European floater.* For Valentine's day, a group of us went to Ideal beach, a small "resort" about an hour south of Chennai. The beach is one of the cleanest beaches I've seen in India and the water is, well, decently clean (or so it seems). We all ran in (after some drinks and apps), excited to be in the ocean on a beautiful day in real swimsuits. After a bit of wave catching and floating, the group headed back to shore (safety) but I decided to stay out a bit longer to increase my chances of getting a good suntan. All of a sudden, I realized I was really far away from shore and the waves were actually pushing me further out instead of back to the sandy beach. Despite my efforts of trying to swim back, I could not. My feet could not touch the ground and I started to panic. My breathing became short and I had flashbacks to an awful kayaking trip in Laos where I thought I was going to drown (we were kayaking in water that was actually better suited for white-water rafting, which we found out mid-trip). I saw a guy floating with a blow up raft about 20 feet away from me and quickly waved my hand. Scared he would think I was just trying to be flirtatious, I was not afraid to hide the look of panic that had taken over me. He immediately started swimming over, passed me the blow up raft and told me to hold onto it. I used it to propel me away from the dangerous abyss and toward safety.

The observant European floater restored my faith in humanity and introduced me to my second chance at life.

2. The kind Tamilian neighbor. My roomie is out of town for the week and generously agreed to let me use his scooter while he was gone (if and only if I promised to wear my helmet). He warned me about the battery as it probably needed to be replaced soon but said it would probably be fine. Out of fear of getting stuck in some random corner of the city, I didn't go near the scooter for days. Last weekend, being slightly overwhelmed by the number of errands I had to run on my Saturday morning (I now realize the value of wfhing) and decided to take the scooter out for a spin. I rolled it out of the gate and tried to start it. Failed. I tried to kickstart it. I didn't know how to do it; failed. I looked over at a neighbor who I had never met before or even seen for that matter. He saw my look of desperation/intense stare at him through my helmet and came over to my scooter immediately after parking his car. Without an exchange of words (only head bobs and smiles), we spent 3 (very silent) minutes of him trying and then successfully jump starting the scooter...he rolled it over to me and I proceeded to explore the streets of Chennai.

The kind Tamilian neighbor restored my faith in humanity and introduced me to a new world of auto-rickshaw free life in Chennai.

1. The three old Tamilian aunties. After work last Friday, I found myself hungry and with some time to kill before movie night at a friend's place. I went to my usual lunch spot, Hotel Ananda, for "snacktime" and ordered a plate of idly. As I was ordering, three old Tamilian aunties sat down at my table (apparently this is a common practice in South India) and proceeded to order something delicious-looking that I had never seen before. After I finished my idly, I was left a bit unsatisfied and looked to the waiter with a look of confusion and sadness on my face. He looked to the three aunties and one motioned to her plate and said "Try it, it's made of speeces (spices with an Indo accent)." I shook my head politely and motioned that I'd pass. "No, no, you should try it. Many speeces (spices) and onions and made of lentils." I reluctantly tore a tiny piece of said dish and was about to try it when she motioned to the bowl of saabji that had accompanied the dish. "Deep (dip) it in that, go ahead, deep (dip) it." I semi-dipped the tiny piece into the saabji and experienced the amazingness of an undiscovered South Indo cuisine...daal dosa. It's amazing. It has no simple carbs and it apparently is only served on special days at special times, so it'll be a trick to track down. Not only did this discovery change my view of South Indo food in a matter of minutes, I also have never felt so welcome by random strangers (who were so vested in my next snacking decision).

The three old Tamilian aunties restored my faith in humanity and introduced me to a new world of complex-carb deliciousness.


Despite my depressing reading on corruption, poverty and social development failures, I have been warmed by kindness and introduced to a whole new world right under my nose.

To the kind people in Chennai, thank you. Just like Professor Morrison said, it's the small things that matter in life...and alas, the whole has become greater than the sum of its parts. I now have a restored faith in humanity!



*btw, I know the observant European floater is not South Indian but he lives in Chennai...so ya know, same same.