Bihar is beautiful in the springtime...maybe.

Last Wednesday at 10 AM, my brother's flight landed in the Varanasi airport. In tow, he had two pairs of Gap jeans for me, six T-shirts, one friend from college, and one bag (half full) of Reese's. He had already eaten the first half, which no one could blame him for, and I surely did not.

After he arrived, we visited the school where I teach (not the Muslim one, but the other one. It's called The South Point School). There, I never have any idea what I'm doing and I have terribly broken conversations in Hindi with the two women I work with about labeling and organizing books. I don't know the Dewey Decimal system in English, let alone describing it to someone in Hindi. (In fact, my first day at Mount Holyoke College I actually thought all the books were in alphabetical order. The entire library. I'm not kidding.) Anyway, I showed Scott the room that I am responsible for turning into a community library, and the rest of the campus. After that we went to lunch and then finally went to the Radisson.

If I had some sort of sweet sound effect to attach to that word I totally would. It would be some epic drumming or opera. I'm leaning towards drumming, but maybe opera would have the classy tint I'm looking for. In any case, we went to the godamn Radisson and it was, to quote my facebook status, "almost like heaven, but, like, a lot better." The shower was like a dream come true. I took such a long, hot shower, that afterwards I was dizzy from the heat. It was SO GOOD. It definitely helped that it was my first shower in 3 months, which made it AMAZING. And the beds? Don't even. And the pillows were a dream come true. The day we left the Radisson, I took one, and spent the rest of the day with my backpack full to the brim with just the pillow. Because it was that fluffy.

Okay, now that you all understand how incredible the Radisson was, I'll describe why I was there in the first place. Jason, Scott's friend, works for a research group (or something, I don't quite get it) where he is based in Norway, travels around South Asia, and gets funded by the Norwiegan government to do cool shit. I think that that is his entire job. I know. I'm jealous of him too. Anyway, he has lots of money and I got to stay at the Radisson.

So on Saturday Jason was going to go to the India-Nepal border to do some fieldwork on the Naxals, who are big bad Indian commies. Scott and I decided to tag along, though I was more tagging along than Scott, due to his legitimate I'm-a-journalist-ness.

At 6 AM on Saturday, we ate our complimentary breakfast at the Radisson (because it's incredible) and then we located our car and driver to go to Nepal. As soon as we get inside, Jason checks to see how long the drive is. We expect it to be about 6 hours.

Jason: Kitna sumay lugega? (How much time will it take?)
Driver: Kyaa? (What?)
Jason: Kitna...sumay....lugega? (How....much time...will it take?)
Driver: *shakes head* Gyara gunte, bara gunte. (11 hours, 12 hours)
Jason: Kyaa? (What?)
Driver: Hahn. (Yes.)
Jason: Me...che gunte nahien heh? (I....not six hours?)
Driver: Nahien. (No.)
Jason: Janne? Ya anne-janne? (Going? Or coming and going?)
Driver: Hahn. (Yes.)
Jason: ...Anne-Janne? (...Coming and going?)
Driver: Hahn. (Yes.)

From this, Scott, Jason, and I decide that the driver meant six hours there and six hours back, which was totally do-able. It was what we expected.

Our driver also turns out to be the slowest drive in India. Ever. If India thought it ever had slow drivers, I challenge it [India] to watch this guy drive. Seriously. And he lives in India, of all places. He was even a slow driver for AMERICA. Yeah. This guy deserves a medal. Anyway, so we drive into Bihar, which is the state directly to the east of Uttar Pradesh, where I live.

Bihar is the most backward state in India. It is the bottom state of almost every single ranking in India. The literacy rate? 44%. The literacy rate of women is half that of the men in the state, and it is one of the most oppressive states in India. We drove through a village where there were absolutely no buildings, only wood shacks with tarps as rooves lining the road. My brother jokingly said, "This is the third largest city in Bihar." It was supposed to be a joke, but I believed him. It wasn't a stretch.

So when we were about 1 hour away from Patna, the capital of Bihar, we passed through a town called Araa (What's Bihaarrrr's favorite city for pirates? Aaaarrrraa). We got stuck in an epic traffic jam that existed for no reason, and while idling we asked our driver how much longer. He said, "Che gunte," which, if you don't remember the previous dialogue, means "six hours." We decided to immediately procure a map and figure out where we were. So, we got out of the car and walked around the beautiful city of Araa. What's in a Araa? Bad food, turns out. Anyway, so we found a map and discovered that, in fact, the Nepal border IS 6 hours away. Super. We were then left with three options.

1) We turn around, and go back to Varanasi (another 6 hour drive)
2) We all go to Nepal, getting there at 8 PM and leave at 10 AM, our stay sandwiched between two 12-hour drives.
3) We all go to Patna, an hour-long drive from Araa, and check it out.

Jason was for turning back, but my brother said we might as well see Patna. I have no deciding weight, and didn't really care. We decided to go to Patna.

Now, if I were to equate Patna to a town in the States, I think I would say a shitty Detroit. If Detroit had no cultural influences (i.e. if Eminem weren't from there) and was about 60 times dirtier, then it might be Patna. Maybe. It would also have to be in India, I suppose.

I can only think of the word "bleak" when I think of Patna. The stores are piled on top of one another, there's racist grafitti against Bangladeshis everywhere, and the hotel we stayed at was super expensive and smelled like urine. It was totally lame, and I can now say I vacationed in Patna.

I will say, however, that Patna has one thing that was completely amazing. And that, my good friends, was the Patna zoo. There is no really good reason to go to Patna, but there's a really godamn great reason to go, and that's the zoo. I saw a tiger, a white tiger, elephants, rhinos, and Scott's camera got licked by a giraffe. I don't want anything else from a trip, so I considered it a success.

Anyway, the rest of the trip was pretty low-key. We left at 8 AM the next day and drove the 6 hours to Varanasi. I can honestly say that there has only been one thing that has made me really like Varanasi. Patna. While we were in Patna all I was thinking was, "Thank god I don't live here. Thank god." And as soon as we crossed the bridge over the Ganga to Varanasi, I was actually happy to smell my home city. I can tell you that that was the first time I have ever been happy to be met by that smell. So, all in all, the Patna trip was a success.

When we got back we stayed at the Radisson one more night (that was when I stole the pillow, by the way), and the next day I had class. Really, other than my trip to Patna, not much has happened. Oh, except for one photoshoot I had with my brother on the ghats. Here's a bunch of photos I took.

Now let's just start by saying that I have a goat problem. I love goats. I love them too much, and I know that. The number of pictures I took of these two goats is utterly absurd. For real.

Anyway, here is a picture of goats cuddling and a photo of Scott taking a picture of a goat.






Here are some mildly artistic pictures I took.






And these pictures are just ones that I thought worthy of my blog. Everyone who knows me knows about my weakness for puppies, Indian children, and Water Buffalo.














The final photo is definitely my favorite. In fact....Do you know what Water Buffalo remind me of? Those things in The Dark Crystal. The wisemen or something that use canes and have serious spinal problems. They were called Mystics. They walk, in the film, exactly like Water Buffalo. Okay, that's enough dorky references for one day.

Tonight the program house is having a fake early Thanksgiving. One of the girls on the program, Ariel, has taken charge and is cooking up a storm. Everyone's bringing or making something, and I will be making devastatingly delicious garlic mashed potatoes. It's going to be awesome, and you all should be jealous.

-allison

There are a few things I hate about my life

Number one is that fact that today I found a 6-inch centipede trapped in a bucket in my bathroom.

It was crawling (crawling? running? scampering?) as fast as it could around the bottom rim of the bucket. I stood staring at it for five minutes, and only looked away when my snoozed and subsequently forgotten alarm sounded. I looked to my alarm, then the bug then back again. I've never had to deal with an insect this large. I knew that I only had ten minutes to brush my teeth, get dressed, get all my things together, and take care of the animal before I had to go to my Urdu class. I awkwardly left my bathroom, turned my alarm off, got some clothes on, put my books in my bag, and then promptly returned to my bathroom. The centipede was still there, as I more or less expected. He was still scurrying in circles. Little had really changed. I had 6 minutes until I had to leave.

Still looking at the 'pede, I opened my medicine cabinet and got out my toothbrushing things. With my brow purpetually furrowed, I slowly started brushing my teeth. Now that I think about it, it was probably mroe of a scurry. Not so much a scamper, and definitely not a crawl. Actually, I would use a made up word to describe what he was doing. Skittering. I think, if he were doing anything, he would be skittering. Not as bumpy as a scamper, not as busy-bodied as a scurry, and with a definite goal of escaping. Definitely a skitter. T-minus 3 minutes. I had to finally face the problem of what I was to do with him.

I didn't want to kill him, but I also didn't want him anywhere near me. "Live and let live" is a nice idea until something has an exoskeleton and is 6 inches long. In those cases, I much prefer "Live and put outside". So, I carried the bucket out of my house, only flipping him over once by accident, and threw him into the only potted plant we have. Case closed. Looking back on it, I have no idea why it took my so long to do that. But for a good 8 minutes, the solution to the problem was unconceivable to me.

So that was my morning. After I left the house I went to Urdu where I continued to be shamed approximately every five minutes. Example.
Me (reading from a textbook): kh...khoora
Urdu Professor (Salman Sahib): Khooda. What does it mean?
Me: Doesn't it mean "trash"?
Salman Sahib: ... It means Allah.
Me: ...Yup, yup it does...

That's just one of the things that has happened which has knocked me off whatever pedestal I thought I deserved.

The other most annoying thing in my life is that my camera has decided to stop working. It keeps showing me this message which is something like, "Full CT," and I have absolutely no idea what it means. That's what I get for allowing Scott to lend me his super fancy camera. I think tonight I'll charge the battery and maybe that will fix it. I don't know. In any case, that is why I haven't been taking, or posting any pictures.

In other news, Salman Sahib asked me if I would like to teach english to Muslim girls next semester, which I definitely would. My internship at South Point School hasn't started yet, but I plan on going over there today. It looks like my life will be full of Indian children soon.

I still go to Salman Sahib's school every Saturday morning for an hour to teach english conversation, and it's getting more and more fun as time goes on. The second day though, when they were taking pictures of me with their phones, was a little tense. After I confiscated the phone, which made me feel like a totally hardass-teacher, I tried to delete the photos. Then I couldn't figure out how to. That made me feel old. And I'm 20.

In any case, now they seem to like and pseudo-respect me. They correct my Hindi and I correct their English, so I feel like it's a good system. I prepare a lesson for each class (I know, right?) and try to talk to them in Hindi, while getting them to respond in English. Even in India, there are still those few kids in the class who know more than everyone else does and LOVE showing it. It's strange, but I sort of like them best. One of them is Salman Sahib's son, who's SO GODAMN BOSS. Last week we had an-hour long conversation in which he asked me every question he could think of about America. The following comments were some of my favorites.

Shanivaz: What is your favorite meal?
Me: Meal....hm. Probably pizza. But all the food on Thanksgiving is good too.
Shanivaz: Yes.
(end)
Shanivaz: In America, Empire State Building?
Me: ...Yup.
Shanivaz: How many floors are in it?
Me: Oh I have no idea. Maybe...a hundred and fifty?
Shanivaz: Wow!
(end)
Shanivaz: What is the tallest building in Boston?
Me: I have no idea.
Shanivaz: Oh!
(end)

He's so godamn cool. He brings Salman Sahib and I chai every day we have class. Because he's totally amazing. Also, his younger brother, Shaazan, is 8 months old and the cutest thing in the world. Seriously. I'm not kidding. Shaazan hated me for a month, but today he held my hand and smiled at me. I'm in love with an 8-month old.

Hopefully I'll be able to post pictures soon. The Ganga and the ghats are getting to be absurdly gorgeous at night, so I'll try to take pictures of that.

-allison

ps. The tallest building in Boston is John Hancock Tower at 60-floors, and the Empire State Building has 102 floors. Yeah, I looked it up.