Project Iron Quilter- The Competition Heats Up

The Competition ( Pat Pauly) has come up with yet another psychological jab:

She writes: I have a few Iron Pills here to boost your resistance. You are gonna need them

The future Iron Q,

Pat

Hm.........I wonder how many I would have to take?

Maybe I could just eat canned spinach like Popeye did.

But never mind.......... I hate canned spinach.

Maybe roller skates might help? Oh the strain... of it all.

Project Iron Quilter- The Competition Throws An Iron in the Fire

Pat Pauly, one of the competitors writes " Just So You Can See How I Measure Up"

The competition has responded and I am quaking in my boots. (Well, maybe not.) Remember, I said it was part psychological.

Then she ratchets up the heat with "Just For Needed Energy".

You can see why I might be a bit worried by checking out her webpage: www.patpauly.com

Yikes!

Project Iron Quilter - Let the Games Begin

Back home its time to prepare for the upcoming Project Iron Quilter. While part of the preparation is certainly psychological, there is also a physical fitness component. Lifting antique irons might just do the trick.

The contest will take place at : Traditions & Beyond, 17th Biennial Quilt Show Saturday October 3 rd, 2009, from 11:00 to 2:00, at the Tompkins Cortland Community College, 170 North Street, Dryden, NY.


Then there is the process of getting together the items which we are allowed from the scanty supply list . Such as three pieces of fabric. Hmmmmmm......I wonder if there is anything good in there?
Or maybe in there?

And what about in there?


And what about all that stuff in the garage I haven't seen in 10 years?
Maybe some red and black fabric from the bottom of that pile? Surely its vintage by now.
And a few ribbons and yarns might be nice.
Or some bias binding strips.
And of course some glitzy trims.
Maybe those sunglasses buttons peeking out on the right would help.
Surely there must be something good in there.
Then there is thread. Should it be glitz?
Or maybe a soothing color such as aqua?
Gold is always good.
And of course a few buttons will surely be needed. Maybe the theme will be tigers? Be still my heart.

Back to Delhi - The Last Hurrah

It was back to Delhi and the backpacker neighborhood I was staying in this time called Paharganj. It is convenient as it is near the New Delhi Train Station, Connaught Circle and a metro station.
My hotel was called Prince Polonia and I had a nice room with a little balcony (street watching only), a tiny sofa and a refrigerator. Great for 1190 (around $27 ) a day including breakfast.
The street has quite a mixed bag of shops. Everything from luggage, to tacky souvenirs, to gaudy dresses.
This area, centred around the Main Bazaar, provides the first experience of the subcontinent for many budget travellers. Packed with cheap hotels, restaurants, cafés and dhabas, and with a busy fruit and vegetable market halfway along, it's also a paradise for shoestring shoppers seeking psychedelic clothing, bindis, bags and bronzes and essence of patchouli and sandalwood. A constant stream of cycle and auto-rickshaws, handcarts, cows and the odd taxi squeeze through impossible gaps without the flow ever coming to a complete standstill - the winding alleys where children play among chickens and pigs seem worlds away from the commercial city centre only just around the corner



A fast food vendor on a nearby corner. No McDonalds in this area for sure.
On my first day back I headed out to Dilli Haat, a shopping complex in the lower part of Delhi where craftsmen from all over India set up shop on a rotating basis.


My hotel had a lovely rooftop pool. One of the few in the area.
The rooftop restaurant.
I couldn't quite figure out why breakfast was served this way. With even the eggs wrapped up.
The temple outside the metro stop on the way to Chandni Chowk. It is great being able to take the metro at least one way to this old market area near the Red Fort and avoid the awful Delhi traffic.

I passed two fabulous Sari shops on the main street. Some of the nicest saris I had ever seen.

I was heading for an area called Kinari Bazaar, full of interesting trims and glitz.

A small vegetable market in the area.
Back in Paharganj. The main street called Main Bazaar.
The street was very rutted making a ride in a cyclo quite a bumpy adventure. Never mind that you didn't want to touch your shoes after a rainstorm when they had slipped around in the mud.
Tiny horses delivering broken bricks for street repair.






Just your basic bullock cart on the main street.
On the last day they were laying concrete, which, or course, drew crowds of shop workers who had to "oversee" the process. Getting up and down the road was quite an undertaking.

Jodhpur, The Bishnoi Villages

On my last day I hired a driver and headed out to the desert and some of the Bishnoi villages. I had done the same thing on a trip about 5 years ago and had a wonderful time.

For centuries, the Bhil and the Bishnoi cultures have coexisted in the Rajasthan desert of central India. Though they live diametrically opposed lifestyles and have vastly different philosophies, they are drawn together by a bond much stronger than their differences: the struggle to survive in this harsh and unforgiving land.

The name “Bishnoi” (“Twenty-nine”) represents the number of principles espoused by their prophet, Lord Jhambheshwar. Despite being born a Khstriya, the second highest Hindu caste, he disapproved of the caste system and created a classless community into which all were accepted. The only requirement was to live by his 29 life principles including no killing or eating of animals, no cutting down of living trees and no alcohol consumption.

In 1730, the ruler Raja Abhaya Singh sent his soldiers to fell trees for the fort he was building. He needed fuel for his limestone kiln. Amrita Devi, stood in the way. She explained to the soldiers the importance of trees to their faith and survival. Then she argued. A crowd soon gathered and joined her in dissuading the soldiers. When everything failed and the loggers began their preparations, Amrita Devi hugged a tree and asked them to cut her before they cut the tree! And lo, it was done! A shocked and outraged crowd, was roused to action. One by one, they followed Amrita Devi, hugged a tree, dared the king's men and were cut dead. The carnage continued; an unending line of Bishnois choosing to die for their love of trees and nature. When a bewildered king finally arrived at the scene and stopped his men, 363 lay dead. Silence enveloped the moment with eloquence. There is probably no parallel to this, in the history of conservation.
Today, in Kejarli there is an eerily silent orchard and this is the temple dedicated to it, to commemorate the day those 363 Bishnois engraved a message in the conscience of mankind.

While this looks like a swimming pool it is really a cistern and people come here for water which I am told they squeeze through cloth to purify (It looks green). And there is a memorial on the grounds to the 363 people who died in the massacre.
Our next stop was a "typical" Bishnoi house although this one was a bit upscale for tourist visits.
Manure
Dead trees gathered for fuel
A new baby
An oven
wall decorations
The kitchen
Grinding millet. It takes ten turns of the heavy wheel for a large pinch of millet. Its ground every morning before meal preparation.
A stop at the local pottery shop. I bought a mask.
A demonstration of course.


And next door a demonstration of block printing. After which the printer tried to sell me a variety of material which was quite obviously machine printed. As if I wouldn't know the difference.
The pottery shop.
In all of my trips through Rajasthan I have never seen anything like this. A huge group of camels at a watering hole.




The owner or herder came over and wanted a bit of baksheesh (bribe) for being allowed to take the photos. Fine with me.

Then we were off to a rug weaver. The area is famous for their rugs and this was also our lunch stop. No, the photo isn't fuzzy. It is smoke from the fire where the weavers wife and mother were cooking lunch.

You don't eat with the women of course...I learned that during my times in Nepal. The man serves you and keeps refilling your dish until you cover it with your hands to signal you are finished. Note the hand blocked fabric.
Then the weaver and his mother demonstrated the weaving process.

And, of course, tried to sell me a rug or two.

Then it was back to Jodhpur and my wait for the evening overnight train to New Delhi. Fortunately it wasn't raining this time. And I had the better first class car this time with only four to a closed cabin. Very spacious and comfy.