April 26, 2009
April 20, 2009
This would be really funny, if it wasn't so true!
I saw this recently and decided this is full of facts about driving in India. It is not really a humorous article.
Demystifying the Driving Myths http://ezinearticles.com/?How-to-Drive-in-India-and-Still-Be-Alive&id=2027446
India being the world's only "true" democratic country, it believes in the "freedom of drive" principle in line with other beliefs "freedom of speech", "freedom of religion", "freedom of corruption", "freedom of urinating in public" and so on.....
The below de-mystifying facts may seem very funny or too outrageous to be true. Nevertheless they are true even if the billion souls protests otherwise.
1. Driving is either Right Hand Drive (RHD) or Left Hand Drive (LHD)
Wrong. In India there is another type of driving called Space Driving(SD). Except for the very few toll Roads, driving is mostly SD, which means driving in whatever space available, left/right really doesn't matter.
2. Driving License is required to drive on the roads
Dead Wrong. You only need a vehicle to drive, nothing else really matters. A random survey on the road will immediately prove this point.
3. Green Means GO, Red Means STOP
Not necessarily. Except for the few traffic signals in those supposedly Metro Cities, Red & Green generally means "GO if you can"
4. There is something called Speed Limit
What is that? Only your vehicle and your ability determines the speed...your state of mind/body pitches in too...
5. Driving happens in a specified Lane
Sorry...You should refer the myth 1 again.
6. Honking is for Emergency
Wrong Again. A Continuous Honking is required to drive back home safely. Honking should be proportional to acceleration for better results. Honk to get the vehicle infront moving, Honk to overtake, Honk to clear the cattle, Honk just for the heck of it...honk all the time.
7. Signboards are there to convey something
Not really. All the sign boards like "No Entry","One Way", "No Parking", "No Overtaking"...& so on are generally there because "No body removed them" ...otherwise it doesn't mean anything
8. Signals are meant to convey your intentions to other drivers
Well..it would have been nice if that was the case.....but most people think this intrudes their driving freedom/right to drive and are seriously offended by this. You could even witness a left signal blipping, right "Hand" signal gesture and the vehicle going straight...that should summarize it for you.
Tips to keep your soul & body intact while driving in India
Reading and digesting the above "demystifying myths" information should really go a long way in saving your precious life while you are driving in India. Now you are ready for some extra but essential tips on driving in India.
Ignore any of the tips below, at your own risk
1. Use your Horn liberally. Honk as much as possible. Honking is not a crime or unpleasant behaviour but rather it is expected of you.
2. Never...I repeat NEVER drive in the night.
3. Don't drive slow or fast. Try to go with the general traffic flow.
4. Use as much as Signals possible. Even people who don't use signals tends to react to other's signals.
5. Traffic flows on "who blinks first" principle. So if a vehicle bigger than yours or if a driver more willing/arrogant/rash than you comes along... then give way to that vehicle
6. Never go behind or infront of a Truck... Avoid this at all costs. Smaller the truck it is, more dangerous it becomes.
7. Give way to all those speeding Buses. Those drivers are just trying to keep their "Job" by trying to beat the punishing schedule.
8. Always be alert...keep an eye on the rear vehicle if you are stopping for a signal or turning left/right or if you are just going straight.
9. Even when you are driving on a "Laned" toll roads, keep looking for another vehicle coming in your Lane in the opposite direction
10. Never go beyond 100 Kmph... even if you have a Top performance car.
11. Never hire a taxi/van with a driver. If you "have to", make sure the driver is not sleep-deprived and keep an eye on him continuously. Most of the accidents are caused by these professional drivers and they cause more deaths.
12. Expect people, cattle, and vehicles to appear suddenly out of nowhere.
13. Above all, Have a very good Insurance coverage just in case.
Inspite of all the above, if you do get involved in a accident, RUN for your LIFE.
| Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Evano_Oruvan |
April 14, 2009
One Daddy Stuck in the Paddy
The basis of this title is the children's book "One Duck Stuck", which Jessie has paraphrased to the appropriate. The April 5 bike ride into the countryside began innocently enough as we followed a familiar track crossing the stone bridge, traversing the paddies, and on into new territory, including a new well. The ride was marketed as being 35km and home by 10:30. Marketing! The scourge of the 21st century! The ride turned out to be 48 km, and it was more like 11:30. One of the riders later commented that "epic" was how he described it to his wife as he assuaged his tired mass with cans of Fosters at a local pub - I was thinking more on the order of "The Bridge Over the River Kwai".
I should have realized I had aroused Murphy during a discussion with several of the riding fellows (we were all fellows this ride) in which bike necessities were discussed, as only guys can discuss - like the necessity of a rear fender during Monsoon season to avoid a stripe up your backside. I quipped in response to the discussion (in typical arrogant male style) that unless you come home dirty OR stinky how does your spouse know you actually went biking. It was a John Wayne moment from my more youthful years. Little did I know that Murphy heard me and put a sequence into motion to assure that I returned home both dirty AND stinky, and where else would Murphy be listening to such discussion than India.
I must say that the majority of the ride was exquisite. We had some very nice tracks through eucalyptus forest and sand mining areas, discovered that there are some rather large and nasty looking scorpions in India, but there was this one moment that just, well to say it succinctly, Murphy impaled me upon my words. It was towards the end of the ride as we were tracking back to the stone bridge through the recently planted paddies. I had taken a spill earlier in the day when my front tire stopped in a rather deep piece of sand - throwing me onto some palm fronds for a nicely planned soft landing. Little did I realize that the spill had messed with my front derailleur (I have to blame something, you see). And the ride was the longest I had done in many a year. And we were now into the heat of the day - quite warm (90 ish +) - water was waning. And I was very, very tired. At any rate we were approaching the paddies, and my front sprockets were in the wrong gear. I knew it; I was aware of it, and I ignored that fact. I should have geared down, but I did not. I trudged on like a good soldier at the speed set by the leaders.[In the wrong gear meant that I was traveling through broken terrain too fast.] Then came the moment of predestination where the simplest of an idea gets planted in your awareness, and it grows and grows until it becomes the self fulfilling prophecy.... I believe the Buddhist's call it "watering the wrong seed".
Paddies are constructed to manage water - water is quite precious here. Between the paddies is a 12-16 inch wide barrier, or terracing dam, or whatever you want to call it - to us, it was a bike path. We had ridden this exact path earlier in the day with fresh muscle and in lower gears. Now I was riding it under duress, in the wrong gear, and with very tired and unresponsive muscle. I took my eyes from the path, where I had been very pedantically watching every bump to assure I did not yuck the muck. I looked at the paddy, and I thought "yuck". I looked back at the path only to discover a rather large clod in the path without the time to react - if tired muscle could have reacted. What followed was an expletive, and my sitzmark defined the outcome of yucking the muck. Two French guys (from a different group) passed me, and I am sure that they thought, in French of course, "bummer, dude!" while they kept on the track without stopping. Losers are not to be associated with, you see.
The situation: Paddies are about 12-16 inches of pretty good muck. However, paddy muck is not Montana grade muck, as this stuff washed out of my clothes fairly well where Montana [ Lick Creek Cave] muck is still there 15 years on. I fell on my left side. The fanny pack I was wearing was on my left side under me. It contained the camera, my wallet, and my mobile. I was in perfect riding form as my feet were still on my peddles. All my years of skiing taught me to get my feet under the bike so I could stand up, which I did pretty quickly, but I was now the paddy muck man from the shoulder down on the left side - oozing to be sure.
I got up, got back onto the track and walked the remaining 100 meters to the stone bridge and across it. The rest of the group had stopped for a breather in the shade of a large tree. The stone bridge crosses a small river, and as it was Sunday, it was laundry day. There were several women doing their laundry in the river water. I came up behind our group, and quietly attempted to glean some of the muck off of me, and to get the pack out of the muck, and to get the camera to safety, and to generally gather my wits. It was a couple of minutes before my state was noticed by the fellows. I had been noticed by the locals as I trudged across the bridge - laughter permeated the peacefulness of the moment.
The comment from the fellows I remember most was "Well,
I guess you're going home both dirty and stinky", and that was when I realized the sequence of events that I had caused by my earlier arrogance. I humbly cursed and headed to the river to clean off my hands. The women offered to wash my clothes for me, but I'm a little to bashful for that; so I declined the offer. It was several minutes later that I remembered my cell phone, and I fished it out of the pack. Yuck, it was full of muck. I slipped it into a clean pocket on the right side and continued on.
We were about 10 km from home. I rode through the village, humbly. Those who noticed, and there were many, had a good chuckle as our riding group have ridden through this village many times, and my bike being orange is quite memorable against the landscape of Indian bicycles, and my grey hair with ponytail, and my size - well, let's just say they have witnessed me many times tracking through their village. Now, I was the paddy mud man on the left side, tired, plodding along like the bullock pulling the carts aware of their plight, but unable to do anything about it. The laugh was on me.
Alli triaged my clothes. I bribed Jess into washing my bike while I took a shower. The clothes got
two washes with soap before drying. Jess and I spent the next two days tearing the bike down, greasing, oiling, and cleaning. The camera was ok. The cell phone was not. I took it apart and it was full of muck. Alli cleaned it with a tooth pick and we put it in the sun to dry. Later in the day, I reassembled it to see if it worked. It did! However, the mud in the microphone must have dried overnight, because the next morning I could not transmit. Our cook, Mrs. Pinto, offered to take it to the Nokia dealer. They reported that yes they could fix it, but they did not provide and estimate - translation: buy a new phone. So, after a couple of days, with nothing to lose, I decided that if it was trashed, I would not be ruining by giving it an enema. So, I got out a syringe and did just that - followed by a decently executed snake bite triage. After drying, it works fine. This is the second Nokia phone that has survived duress under my watch. The first one survived a complete wash - dry cycle in Minnesota, and this phone survived the paddy muck. So, good job to Nokia manufacturing quality, but their service in Bangalore could be a bit more forthcoming with information.
The reason this post is a bit late is that it was only this past weekend (Easter) that Jess came up with the title to this piece, and I have developed the public humility to share my story. So, One Daddy Stuck in the Paddy diligently reports on the trials and tribulations of ThorneInIndia.
I should have realized I had aroused Murphy during a discussion with several of the riding fellows (we were all fellows this ride) in which bike necessities were discussed, as only guys can discuss - like the necessity of a rear fender during Monsoon season to avoid a stripe up your backside. I quipped in response to the discussion (in typical arrogant male style) that unless you come home dirty OR stinky how does your spouse know you actually went biking. It was a John Wayne moment from my more youthful years. Little did I know that Murphy heard me and put a sequence into motion to assure that I returned home both dirty AND stinky, and where else would Murphy be listening to such discussion than India.
I must say that the majority of the ride was exquisite. We had some very nice tracks through eucalyptus forest and sand mining areas, discovered that there are some rather large and nasty looking scorpions in India, but there was this one moment that just, well to say it succinctly, Murphy impaled me upon my words. It was towards the end of the ride as we were tracking back to the stone bridge through the recently planted paddies. I had taken a spill earlier in the day when my front tire stopped in a rather deep piece of sand - throwing me onto some palm fronds for a nicely planned soft landing. Little did I realize that the spill had messed with my front derailleur (I have to blame something, you see). And the ride was the longest I had done in many a year. And we were now into the heat of the day - quite warm (90 ish +) - water was waning. And I was very, very tired. At any rate we were approaching the paddies, and my front sprockets were in the wrong gear. I knew it; I was aware of it, and I ignored that fact. I should have geared down, but I did not. I trudged on like a good soldier at the speed set by the leaders.[In the wrong gear meant that I was traveling through broken terrain too fast.] Then came the moment of predestination where the simplest of an idea gets planted in your awareness, and it grows and grows until it becomes the self fulfilling prophecy.... I believe the Buddhist's call it "watering the wrong seed".
Paddies are constructed to manage water - water is quite precious here. Between the paddies is a 12-16 inch wide barrier, or terracing dam, or whatever you want to call it - to us, it was a bike path. We had ridden this exact path earlier in the day with fresh muscle and in lower gears. Now I was riding it under duress, in the wrong gear, and with very tired and unresponsive muscle. I took my eyes from the path, where I had been very pedantically watching every bump to assure I did not yuck the muck. I looked at the paddy, and I thought "yuck". I looked back at the path only to discover a rather large clod in the path without the time to react - if tired muscle could have reacted. What followed was an expletive, and my sitzmark defined the outcome of yucking the muck. Two French guys (from a different group) passed me, and I am sure that they thought, in French of course, "bummer, dude!" while they kept on the track without stopping. Losers are not to be associated with, you see.
The situation: Paddies are about 12-16 inches of pretty good muck. However, paddy muck is not Montana grade muck, as this stuff washed out of my clothes fairly well where Montana [ Lick Creek Cave] muck is still there 15 years on. I fell on my left side. The fanny pack I was wearing was on my left side under me. It contained the camera, my wallet, and my mobile. I was in perfect riding form as my feet were still on my peddles. All my years of skiing taught me to get my feet under the bike so I could stand up, which I did pretty quickly, but I was now the paddy muck man from the shoulder down on the left side - oozing to be sure.
I got up, got back onto the track and walked the remaining 100 meters to the stone bridge and across it. The rest of the group had stopped for a breather in the shade of a large tree. The stone bridge crosses a small river, and as it was Sunday, it was laundry day. There were several women doing their laundry in the river water. I came up behind our group, and quietly attempted to glean some of the muck off of me, and to get the pack out of the muck, and to get the camera to safety, and to generally gather my wits. It was a couple of minutes before my state was noticed by the fellows. I had been noticed by the locals as I trudged across the bridge - laughter permeated the peacefulness of the moment.
The comment from the fellows I remember most was "Well,
I guess you're going home both dirty and stinky", and that was when I realized the sequence of events that I had caused by my earlier arrogance. I humbly cursed and headed to the river to clean off my hands. The women offered to wash my clothes for me, but I'm a little to bashful for that; so I declined the offer. It was several minutes later that I remembered my cell phone, and I fished it out of the pack. Yuck, it was full of muck. I slipped it into a clean pocket on the right side and continued on.We were about 10 km from home. I rode through the village, humbly. Those who noticed, and there were many, had a good chuckle as our riding group have ridden through this village many times, and my bike being orange is quite memorable against the landscape of Indian bicycles, and my grey hair with ponytail, and my size - well, let's just say they have witnessed me many times tracking through their village. Now, I was the paddy mud man on the left side, tired, plodding along like the bullock pulling the carts aware of their plight, but unable to do anything about it. The laugh was on me.
Alli triaged my clothes. I bribed Jess into washing my bike while I took a shower. The clothes got
two washes with soap before drying. Jess and I spent the next two days tearing the bike down, greasing, oiling, and cleaning. The camera was ok. The cell phone was not. I took it apart and it was full of muck. Alli cleaned it with a tooth pick and we put it in the sun to dry. Later in the day, I reassembled it to see if it worked. It did! However, the mud in the microphone must have dried overnight, because the next morning I could not transmit. Our cook, Mrs. Pinto, offered to take it to the Nokia dealer. They reported that yes they could fix it, but they did not provide and estimate - translation: buy a new phone. So, after a couple of days, with nothing to lose, I decided that if it was trashed, I would not be ruining by giving it an enema. So, I got out a syringe and did just that - followed by a decently executed snake bite triage. After drying, it works fine. This is the second Nokia phone that has survived duress under my watch. The first one survived a complete wash - dry cycle in Minnesota, and this phone survived the paddy muck. So, good job to Nokia manufacturing quality, but their service in Bangalore could be a bit more forthcoming with information.The reason this post is a bit late is that it was only this past weekend (Easter) that Jess came up with the title to this piece, and I have developed the public humility to share my story. So, One Daddy Stuck in the Paddy diligently reports on the trials and tribulations of ThorneInIndia.
April 13, 2009
Easter Bunny in India
The Easter Bunny was kind to Jessi and came all the way to India to deliver her Easter Basket and hide candy filled eggs. Unfortunately the Easter Bunny must not have much experience with this part of the world and didn't realize that candy filled eggs soon become ant filled plastic eggs. We had absolutely no arguing with Jess this year about eating too much candy. In fact she won't touch the candy that any ant potentially came in contact with. She likes ants as much as I like spiders. I feel sorry for her since there are way more ants than spiders around typically.
April 1, 2009
Aye, Kurumba! Jess Got Crabbed!
As a celebration of our first six months in India we left India and traveled to the Maldives for some beach time with our good friends the Heihn's who live here in Bengaluru with their two children, Preston and Elise. If you recall, Jess and I went camping with Alex and Preston Heihn in January.
The grounds of the resort were tropical, colorful, and well maintained. The groundskeepers did a great job of keeping the coconut trees trimmed back so you did not get beaned by a nut. [More than once we have witnessed shedding coconut palms in Palm Meadows. You do not want to park your car too close to a coconut palm- we've had our windshield replaced once due to an errant nut.] The resort had a very nice orchid garden, and female visitors were rewarded with a sprig of orchid to adorn their hair. Each day fresh flowers were put into the basin by the porch by the cabin steward. The resort operated a bit like a cruise ship in that the people who worked there, lived there.
In the evening we watched the setting sun waiting for the flash of green. We are still waiting, which is the reason we will keep going to beaches. (Thanks to Alex and Stacy for the sunset pictures. Alli and I were too enraptured by the moment to get a camera out.)
The Maldives are about two hours South of Bengaluru by air - very close to the equator. Being close to the equator, it was quite warm, and we were very happy to learn that the A/C did not turn off when you left the cabin. Another point of interest is the big dipper, which is viewable from the Maldives. Seeing the dipper was completely unexpected as we have not been able to spot the it in India. Oddly enough, there is enough light pollution in the middle of the Indian Ocean to prevent visibility of the Milky Way.
The trip was our first experience with international travel from India, and the major learning was the volume of paperwork required to get out of and then back into India. The immigration processes flowed well, but each passport required copious paperwork to be completed. Also, for any expensive items, such as cameras, that you wish to bring back into the country you need to complete customs forms or risk paying import duties upon return. We have added a pen to our standard list of carry on stuff (our pens has been placed in the checked luggage). Indian immigration / customs did let us back into India without issue, and the cats were grateful to the authorities to have their playmates back. The picture album contains pictures from both the Thornes and the Heihns - thanks to Alex for sharing.
The trip was our first experience with international travel from India, and the major learning was the volume of paperwork required to get out of and then back into India. The immigration processes flowed well, but each passport required copious paperwork to be completed. Also, for any expensive items, such as cameras, that you wish to bring back into the country you need to complete customs forms or risk paying import duties upon return. We have added a pen to our standard list of carry on stuff (our pens has been placed in the checked luggage). Indian immigration / customs did let us back into India without issue, and the cats were grateful to the authorities to have their playmates back. The picture album contains pictures from both the Thornes and the Heihns - thanks to Alex for sharing.
We stayed at the Kurumba Maldives resort, which is about a 20 minute boat ride from the airport in Male'. We did not venture out from the resort once we got there due to the fact that the kids were having too much fun in the pools and the beaches; so, the parents chilled with a Corona or went snorkeling. The majority of the guests at the resort were European or Russian, which translated to not having to eat Indian food 3x / day - a welcome relief for our GI tracts. The food at the resort was quite good; although, a few sampled items made one wonder whose cookbook was used as the chef's reference. I mean, you see a Cesar salad on the menu, and you have certain expectations as to how it should taste, right? But no worries, there were lots of other tasty items to be sampled in any of the several themed restaurants.
The grounds of the resort were tropical, colorful, and well maintained. The groundskeepers did a great job of keeping the coconut trees trimmed back so you did not get beaned by a nut. [More than once we have witnessed shedding coconut palms in Palm Meadows. You do not want to park your car too close to a coconut palm- we've had our windshield replaced once due to an errant nut.] The resort had a very nice orchid garden, and female visitors were rewarded with a sprig of orchid to adorn their hair. Each day fresh flowers were put into the basin by the porch by the cabin steward. The resort operated a bit like a cruise ship in that the people who worked there, lived there.
One highlight of the trip was Jessie and Preson's crabs. I watched a piece of driftwood go by our cabin wondering 
where it came from as we were in the middle of the Indian ocean. The kids were about 100 meters to my left playing on the beach in front of Heihn's cabin. Apparently, there were rock crabs afloat on the driftwood, which requires one to ponder notions of island escape, or possibly crab teenager joy riding; although, there was no evidence of beer on the driftwood. The crabs were rescued from one fate only to fall into another as Jessie and Preston caught two of them.
where it came from as we were in the middle of the Indian ocean. The kids were about 100 meters to my left playing on the beach in front of Heihn's cabin. Apparently, there were rock crabs afloat on the driftwood, which requires one to ponder notions of island escape, or possibly crab teenager joy riding; although, there was no evidence of beer on the driftwood. The crabs were rescued from one fate only to fall into another as Jessie and Preston caught two of them.Jess and Preston were quite dutiful and happy to act as the proprietors of Crabby Daycare. To provide a caring and safe environment for their charges, they built sand castles to house them. The crabs were "walked" to assure the crabs got exercise and did not lose their ancestral identity, and the kids made sure there was fresh sea stuff for the crabs to eat. As you can imagine kids with crabs attract attention. Jess made friends with some folks from Israel who had not seen a young girl so happy to have a crab stuck to her chest. At the end of the day, the crabs were put to bed in sand buckets for the night. However, the next morning brought sadness when it was discovered that the crabs did not survive the night - tears were shed, services were held, memorials were placed, and then we moved on. That night Alex took the kids on a hermit crab hunt. Unlike snipe hunts, several rather traumatized little crabs were caught and released. The crabs scurried away only too glad to get back to doing whatever it is that hermit crabs do.
While I'm on the fauna, the island had two types of lizards. The common gecko that seems to be everywhere in Asia, and another sand based mini-iguana type lizard, who was quite shy at being photographed. In the photo album you'll find some pictures of a large heron like bird who cruised the waters edge each morning. The last morning he bagged two snakes - one in front of Heihn's cabin, and one in front of our cabin. In the evening there was a largish (think red tailed hawk largish) bat, which we assumed to be a fruit bat, cruising around the tops of the coconuts.
Another highlight was Jessie's first attempt at windsurfing. Our trip occurred during the two least windy weeks of the year, or so the instructor said, but there was sufficient wind to scud Jess gently across the water. Learning very quickly, Jess did a great job of balance on the board and turning. By the end of the second session, the instructor said she was ready for more wind, which turned out to be a bad omen as the wind totally died, and we had to cancel that last two sessions. Jess is now looking forward to our visit in Goa, India as they too offer windsurfing.
The Maldives are atolls, which require a lot of material (sand, clays, rocks, etc.) to be transported to the island to build it up. So, the resort is surrounded by a sea wall that had been built to protect the investment in imported island sand. We had tides of about six feet, and at high tide (about 11 a.m.) we could easily swim through the gaps in the sea will into the coral reef beyond. While there were sufficient and interesting fish to view inside the wall, outside the wall presented some of the best snorkeling we have ever encountered as the coral reef gave way to a wall dropping into a deep trench. So, within 100 meters from our cabin we encountered living coral and deep cold water, which makes for fantastic fish variety and density.
The cabin porches faced the water, which was about 15 meters away. So, each day we slipped into the water and donned our fins to see what we could sea. We spotted our first ever lion fish and sting rays, and Allison had a spiritual moment with several thousand of her closest finned buds over the deep water. I was acutely aware of the fact that with deep water comes big fish; so, I was diligent keeping an eye out for predators. None were discovered; although, there were some rather large and toothy fish lurking about. Other observations were a school of porpoise that went by beyond the wall, and Alli noticed something glowing on the wall and in the water in the still waters of the evening. Periodically, flying fish would skip across the water. Inside the wall were a group of small (.5 meter) black tipped reef sharks. As usual, the bearded one struggled a bit with mask fit, but that was finally mastered. My ENT should note that you don't need to inhale salt water to clear your sinus with a nose enema kit, you just need to go snorkeling with an ill fitting mask. Best I've been able to breath since coming to Asia.
One feature of our cabin, which was immensely enjoyed, was the outdoor shower. The entire back of the cabin was the bath area, which included an indoor shower, a tub, two sinks, and then there was the rain shower in the garden. [It was all walled in for privacy, of course.] We all enjoyed that shower, and Alli and I cannot wait to replicate that bathroom at the cabin on Superior; although, I don't think we'll do the garden shower as it would be too nipplely for the Superior climate. We may get another chance at that style of shower as it does appear that Jessie just might grow into being an island girl if the folks don't quit taking her on tropical island vacations.
In the evening we watched the setting sun waiting for the flash of green. We are still waiting, which is the reason we will keep going to beaches. (Thanks to Alex and Stacy for the sunset pictures. Alli and I were too enraptured by the moment to get a camera out.)The Thornes In India greatly enjoyed our mini vacation to the Maldives. The resort was great, the food was great, the snorkeling was great, and traveling with friends always makes the experience especially enjoyable.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
