Anjan picked us up from the airport and drove us to DA196 (TCTI's headquarters). The ride from the airport was amazing. TCTI has two company cars, one being a jeep. I rode in the Jeep. It has no windows or doors and a canvas top. For my money, there is no better way to travel around India than in a Jeep.

When we first left the airport, there were several Indian mothers and with their babies and little children that surrounded us. They kept touching me and walked stride for stride with us until we got to the cars. I've been to the Middle East and Egypt, so I wasn't that taken back by this, but when I looked into the eyes of one of the mothers, I came face to face with a level of despair and poverty I had never witnessed. The lady then proceeded to outstretch her hand as if to beg for money. When I bowed my head to say "sorry, I can't help," I noticed she had no hands.

Living in San Francisco has opened my eyes to a lot of things in life. One is the abundance of homelessness and mental illness. It is easy to say "these people are just lazy, if they want help all they need to do is get a job." Or, "he is mentally ill, that's why he's sitting in the middle of an intersection wearing a dress and holding an upside down cardboard sign that says 'anything will help.'" In India, you can't justify people's condition in the same manner. These people suffer from illness, starvation and poverty in a likes I have never fathomed before, not by their own doing, but by just living in the country in which they live. I'm not belittling this, or even judging it by saying "America is the best," because I know that is not true, I'm just in such awe at how spectacularly poor and completely different India is from my own comprehension.

Once we got in the Jeep and started driving to DA196, our home for the next week, the fun began. Within minutes of driving, we passed cows, sheep and a few pigs in the middle of the street. I saw a man riding his bicycle with two baskets hanging over the back wheel. Within each basket were probably 10 chickens. I saw bicycles, motorcycles, taxicabs, buses and rickshaws. The street was crowded with activity. Everybody was moving, but not in the same direction or at the same speed. It was chaos.

India streets have no yellow lines and no real driving protocols. The only protocol I can understand is the practice of honking your horn whenever you come near a vehicle. This is for the sole purposes of letting the other vehicle know you're close by. This sounds simple enough until you travel down a busy road and hit an intersection. If most New York City taxi drivers are from India, I now know why the streets are so noisy.

The most disturbing and strangely alluring site on my way to DA196 was the image of a man laying in a gutter. At first, I thought he might have fallen, but as we got closer, I noticed the twisted angle in which he was laying. There was a curb between the front of a house and the street. This man was lying on the street with his face turned toward the traffic and his left leg perched up on the curb. His right leg was bent towards the street and his arms were stretched over his head. As we drove closer, I noticed he was lying in a stream of water and mud, with his face covered with flies. Before I came to India, a friend told me about her experience in India and in particular when she went to the Ganges River. She recalled children playing and women washing their clothes only feet from a rotting corpse. As incredulous as that may sounds, I witnessed the same horror, only minutes after leaving the airport.

When we got to DA196, it was different from what I had expected. I have seen lots of pictures of the building, but for some reason, I thought it was in a much more open space. Instead it is almost down an alley, although all of the streets that I have seen looks like alleys. The building was originally a residence for a general, but now it is the headquarters of TCTI.

When we arrived, several people came out to meet us, including the security guards and servants. Adam and I will stay in DA196 and Dan and Ovick will stay in a guesthouse. R.S. will be with his parents.

Shortly after arriving, we were given a tour of the buildings, DA196, STP1, and STP2. Everybody was working and whenever we entered a new room, everyone stopped work and stood up with their heads bowed. I can get used to that treatment and will try to encourage a similar practice back in the States.

When we went to STP2, we met with the people from Webel. They are the government developers who own the land and built the buildings. STP2 is a 14,000 square foot space in a building that TCTI leases and is planning on moving its operations to.

As we were driving from site to site, we passed many buildings that were either under construction, reconstruction, or falling apart. I could never tell which was which. Anyway, the one thing that stuck out in my eyes was the rampant use of bamboo. In America, we have steel reinforced structures. In Calcutta, they apparently use bamboo for their houses. No wonder why when earthquakes hit, there is such tremendous damage.

After seeing the buildings, we returned to DA196 for a quick shower. I realized two things 1) I packed my soft toilet paper in my suitcase 2) you can't take hot water and water pressure for granted overseas. I was looking forward to a nice relaxing shower, but instead got treated to a brisk, invigorating one.

That night we drove to a buffet/cafeteria style restaurant. I have no idea what I ordered, but it was good. The only problem was I was so tired that I had very little appetite.