When I returned to Varanasi I hadn't realized that I would be returning to a frigid Minnisotan winter. In reality, it was probably only about 50 degrees during the day, but we were all monumentally unprepared for it. For four days, I swear to god, I had to sleep in wool socks, a wool sweater, a wool hat, and two wool blankets. In that state, I could almost put myself in a place where I began to remember what warmth felt like. I was also really itchy.
Anyway, after those few days of intense arctic weather, it warmed up a little and not the weather is roundabout perfect. At night it's cold enough to use a blanket, but warm enough to not need a wool hat, and during the day it's cold enough for a light jacket or a scarf. It's absolutely perfect, and I want it to last forever. I would maybe liken it to early October in New England minus the trees, brick, and reliable electricity. Speaking of reliable electricity, and using this as a way to get off the topic of the weather, did you know that only 5% of the government primary schools in the Varanasi district have electricity? That's insane! There are a lot of non-government primary schools though (especially within the city), and many have very low school fees due to government subsidies. But still.
Do you know why I know that? Because, if you remember, I have an 80-100 page research paper due on April 15. My Saturday routine included a morning run with Sara, followed by a shower and then a breakfast of flapjacks (there are two places in this city to get good pancakes. I found and subsequently annexed both of them). For the rest of the day, Sara and I sat in my room not talking and writing our papers. I would say we were in my room for a total of 7 hours and I wrote 3 single spaced pages of the most pretentious writing I think I have ever penned. Perhaps that was ever penned. I actually wrote the sentence, "Now based upon clause (1) of Article 29, we can assume that the institutions alluded to in Article 30’s clause (1) are institutions specializing in a certain minority’s language, script, or culture."
Yeah, I wrote that.
But, let is go back to before the running, fun-loving time of this weekend. Last Sunday I woke up and spent the day tooling around my neighborhood, jumping from one cafe to the only other cafe in town, and then at night went to a concert. Just to paint that picture for you, a concert here means sitting on mats on the floor and listening to sitarist or whatever other Indian classical instrument for at minimum one hour. So, during the concert I started to feel a little nauseous, but that happens all the time. An hour later it had progressed to something I don't often feel in India, and I decided to go home.
Over the next few days I partook in some recreational vomiting and spent all my time in bed pondering what death really was, and whether or not your heart had to completely stop beating to mean your life was over. The past week, as you may have gathered, was a bad week for me. I didn't do any work besides some extremely poorly written Hindi assignments that now have more red ink on them than black, and I spent approximately all my time thinking, 'This doesn't happen in America.' I would then move on to what ice cream flavors are available in America, and then would think about what my first mexican food would be. (I eventually came to the conclusion that it would be two chicken tacos with a side of rice and pinto beans with extra sour cream. But this is all very premature; I still have a few months to fine tune it. Perhaps a pupusa is in order, but who can say?)
In addition to a bad case of Delhi Belly (or the India Heebie Jeebies as my brother calls it) I got a cold the day after I arrived in Varanasi. After a short five days I was over the cold, but the cough has since decided to take up shop. I wake up in the morning with a swamp in my lungs. I'm going to repeat that because it's not a joke. There is a swamp inside my lungs. I cough and think, "Hey, I remember that time I went to Florida," or, "What's the difference between crocodiles and alligators again?" I think my lungs are slowly liquefying and I am powerless to stop it. This is all a long way of saying that my health has seen better days. That includes, for your information, any day in the last 20 and a half years.
Well, I am going to take a nap and then talk to a doctor. There are rumors of viral meningitis going around, and luckily two people on this program (Mary Beth and I) have been flirting with the idea of being bedridden for the last week. Wish me luck!
-allison
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Winter Land Odyssey around India: Text
I had a lot of ground to cover in this post, so this is Part I. This is just the text about the trip and you can look below for the corresponding photos. I did this because because I will kill myself if I have to spend another two hours of my life formatting photos and text together on my wonderful blog host, Blogger.com.
After Hyderabad I went to Chennai for a few days to kick it with Padma and Scott in their apartment before we drove over to Goa, which was fairly uneventful. Except for the time when Scott asked me to run over to the Chennai High Court to coax a lawyer into getting him some documents. Yeah, except for that. I spent two hours with this lawyer; he took me into every single courtroom and explained, I think, everything he learned in law school. He turned out to be a really nice guy, and even bought me a cup of chai.
The car trip to Goa was pretty easy. We almost only listened to "This American Life" and songs from the Civil War the entire time. I think there may have been some Elvis Costello. Anyway, it was fine and the cockroach count for our one night stopover hotel was only four.
Goa...Oh my god Goa. I don't think I really have a lot to say about Goa. My daily routine was something like this:
10am-12am: Breakfast with Scott and Padma
12am-4pm: Lie on the beach
4pm-5pm: Eat sandwiches
5pm-8pm: Shower, nap or read
8pm-10pm: Dinner
10pm: Sleep
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
It was amazing. I- I really can't talk about it or do it justice. Christmas in Goa was brilliant- though I did find myself missing the standard snowy New England Christmas. But I got over that real fast.
After a week of amazingly delicious food and sun and ocean, I had to say goodbye to Goa and move on to Bombay. I decided, in my infinite wisdom, to try taking a bus to Bombay instead of sticking to train travel. My brother drove me to the bus station, I said goodbye to him and Padma, and they drove away. The following is the story of what happened afterwards.
After wandering around the "bus station" which is really just a mish-mash parking lot of bicycles, motorcycles, and bags of grain, for an hour or so, my bus finally arrived. By this point I had met a Finnish couple (what is it with me and finding couples from small European countries?) who were also going to Mumbai on my bus, and we set off together. The Finnish woman got on the bus, while her boyfriend and I went to the back to drop off our bags. As we were putting our bags in the the bus, it starts moving. At first it was slow, and we though it was just reparking. That, not surprisingly, was wrong. The bus sped up, and Sven (That was probably his name, right?) and I just stood in silence watching the bus drive away. After it turned the corner, we realized that it was not reparking, and we somewhat half heartedly ran after it. Finally we found it behind the bus station, which should have been obivous I guess, and got on.
I then found my bunk, which was the bottom bunk in the third row. I got in and was immediately ecstatic. The berths in buses are at minimum 1 and a half times as big as the ones in trains and cushier. There's a built-in pillow on the bed and the bed and there's a window that spans the entire berth that you can open. Finally, there's a curtain in between you and the aisle that you can close at your leisure. I was in the process of writing that description in my journal when an Indian woman sat down next to me.
"So, could I have the inside?"
Snap.
So I move over a little to allow room for person number two in my berth and she is immediately incredibly friendly and I notice that her English is impeccable. Throughout our entire time together I never heard her speak Hindi once. She spoke English to everyone on the phone and to the driver. Well, sort of. Instead of writing out our conversation I'll do one of those dialogues I'm oh-so fond of.
Her: So where are you from?
Me: I'm from America.
Her: (Smiles and slowly nods) You are a committed Christian.
Me: (bewildered) umm not- not really...
Her: (Smiles and nods) I see.
(Insert more chit chat)
Her: So you are learning Hindi?
Me: Yeah.
Her: Make sure the Hindu religion doesn't suck you in.
Me: (At this point realizing that the friendship may be strained from here on in) Uh huh. Don't think that will happen.
Her: (She says this in a completely soft voice as if it was all something I had heard before) It's just...you know, it is a very silly religion. There was no religion before Christianity and all religions are based on of it. Even Hinduism, whith its many Gods says that truly there is only one God. Islam says the same thing. All of the world religions are based off of Christianity, you know. They have just all deviated from The Path. Even Catholicism has. I used to be Catholic, but I have accepted Jesus as my Personal Savior and have been born again.
Me: Uh huh. Kay.
Her: (After a moment) What do you think about the world situation?
Me: The world? Like...the whole world?
Her: (Knowlingly knods)
Me: Umm...well uhh I'm happy Barack Obama was elected. I think Israel's being overly violent. The economic crisis is pretty serious. Is there something specific you wanted me to respond to?
Her: Do you think there's a hidden agenda?
Me: ....By whom?
Her: There's a hidden agenda to rip the morals from today's youth, from people like you. By the media.
Me: Mmm...
Let's just say it continued like that for a while...Until she made the decision to tell me about how it is the Endtimes.
Her: The Bible proves to me that this is the Endtimes because of everything that is happening. In the next few years, this is what will happen. The world will get worse and worse for 3 years. There will be almost complete chaos, and no one will be able to stop it. Then, all of a sudden, the world will become peaceful for no apparent reason. A calm will come over the world, but it will only last for 2 years. And then it will be Armageddon.
Me:
Apparently the people who accepted Jesus as their personal savior will get into Heaven. But, the people who haven't will go to Hell. Also, the people who have accepted Jesus as their personal savior in the final 5 years (so pretty much anyone who isn't Born Again already) STILL might not get in because there is "limited space". Heaven is like an 21+ concert and I'M AUTOMATICALLY GOING TO BE LAST IN LINE.
I really don't have a joke to say about her. She turned out to be really nice woman and helped me get into Bombay safe and sound. She was a very good woman, and an even better Christian.
So after that conversation in the middle of the night, I went to the bathroom. This meant that when the bus stopped so all these men jumped off to pee (no women) I was followed suit and became that crazy Westerner. I scurried passed all the men and scrambled over a stone wall to shelter myself from the bus's headlights. As I was sitting there, I looked at the sky and saw the most stars I think I have ever seen. Due to the lack of pollution and dust, I could see about ten times as many stars as I can normally see. It completely blew my mind. After I got back in the bus and laid down, I looked passed the back of Yvette's (that was her name) head and watched the stars for hours. It was exceedingly beautiful.
After arriving in Mumbai I walked around my first day. I think in total I covered about 5 miles of Bombay's Bandra neighborhood. The second day Sara came with her two friends, Lisa and Jocelyne, and we went out with a few Indian friends for New Year's Eve, which was awesome. We went to a club and danced for a few hours. The men were CRAZY. We all went to the bathroom in a group, and someone grabbed Sara. I proceeded to berate the guy, yelling at him in a really thick Hindi accept IN ENGLISH (It's a weird thing that starts when you've been here for a while- when you can't speak Hindi to them, you start talking to Indians in their accent). I was yelling, "Sir, you grabbed my friend. You grabbed her! You can say you didn't, but sir, why would she lie? You can't do that. That's not okay." My hands were waving in his face and I had pretty much taken on the attitude of a stereotype of a really pissed of Indian woman. Who spoke in English. Happy New Year.
The next day we walked around South Bombay, which is more or less exactly like Manhattan. It was a pretty fun day and we ate lunch at the place that the Bombay attacks started, a restaurant called Leopolds. The bullet holes were still in the walls. The next day we went to Elephanta Islan which has all sorts of relgious importance that I would describe to you, but I wasn't really listening to the guide so I can't tell you anything correct about it. There will be pictures in the next post.
I left that night to come back to Varanasi and take the second 36-hour train ride of my winter vacation. I slept the first night without much problems and spent the entire next day sitting and staring at people. I just napped and stared. Most Indians on the trains just sit and nap, so I decided to try it out (well, I was also avoiding copious amounts of homework I had and still have). It was surprisingly easy. The time still went about as fast as it would if I have music and books.
The next morning I woke up at 3 AM to the coldest temperature I think I have EVER experienced. Ever. At least, the coldest temperature that I was in NO WAY prepared for. I had two sweaters and a blanket on and I would have let someone chop off my feet if it meant an end to the pain. Later on in the morning, I woke up, and sat with a huge family. They were amazed that I was learning Hindi and surrounded me. The family had one grandmother, 8 aunts and uncles, and each of those people had at least thirty children of their own that I met. And every child that met me was forced to shake my hand and say good morning before they would be allowed to eat breakfast. It was great and didn't make me feel awkward at all.
Upon finally getting in the vicinity of Varanasi, I asked how much longer. Everyone said twenty minutes. Our train was doing the seemingly impossible- it was going to arrive on time. But, as that is impossible for India for do, the train stopped. It came to a full stop and didn't move for another five excruciating hours. Five hours of sitting in the middle of this family and talking to all of them, being asked to sing American songs as well as well known Bollywood songs, and being flat out laughed at. Roundabout hour three, one of the many girls asked me for a gift from America. At first I said I didn't have anything American (most of my stuff at this point is Indian). but finally I dug up a three-year-old mini perfume bottle that I had never used and gave it to her. In return I got an elastic bracelet with mini roses on it meant for a six-year-old. What a sucker, right?
So after I sat in that train for a total of 34 hours, and when I arrived I found out that a) my wallet was stolen and b) Varanasi is 57 degrees but feels like the blueish center of a snow bank. My wallet only have about 600 rupees in it (about 12 dollars) and I still have my passport so that wasn't hugely bothersome, but still was pretty annoying.
My first day of class back we had a really painful two-hour long meeting about logistics. I don't want to talk about. What I DO want to talk about is the fact that my program coordinator, Shashank, was late to work. When he got here I asked him why he was late. He said that he couldn't leave his house because someone had performed black magic in front of his doorway, so he couldn't leave. Someone is trying to kill him or hurt him, so he had to get someone to sweep it away form his front door before he left the house...obviously.
Yeah. So...yeah.
I'm overall very happy to be back. I worried lot about my time in India for the last four months. I was just always worried that I wouldn't like it here or I would miss being at school too much. I guess I was just worried that I wouldn't adjust well. But I think my time in these past few weeks (i.e. lying on the beach, traveling alone so much, figuring out everything myself, seeing so many new cities, standing up for my friend, getting my wallet stolen) has somewhat tied me close to India. Also, Varanasi feels a lot different than it felt last year (It's 2009, guys). Maybe it's the cold, or maybe it's the fact that I've been here for four and a half months, but I really feel at home here. Well, at home and really really cold. I need at least one pair of socks if I plan on surviving, and, taking my previous week into account, it seems as if I'm going to do that.
-allison
After Hyderabad I went to Chennai for a few days to kick it with Padma and Scott in their apartment before we drove over to Goa, which was fairly uneventful. Except for the time when Scott asked me to run over to the Chennai High Court to coax a lawyer into getting him some documents. Yeah, except for that. I spent two hours with this lawyer; he took me into every single courtroom and explained, I think, everything he learned in law school. He turned out to be a really nice guy, and even bought me a cup of chai.
The car trip to Goa was pretty easy. We almost only listened to "This American Life" and songs from the Civil War the entire time. I think there may have been some Elvis Costello. Anyway, it was fine and the cockroach count for our one night stopover hotel was only four.
Goa...Oh my god Goa. I don't think I really have a lot to say about Goa. My daily routine was something like this:
10am-12am: Breakfast with Scott and Padma
12am-4pm: Lie on the beach
4pm-5pm: Eat sandwiches
5pm-8pm: Shower, nap or read
8pm-10pm: Dinner
10pm: Sleep
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
It was amazing. I- I really can't talk about it or do it justice. Christmas in Goa was brilliant- though I did find myself missing the standard snowy New England Christmas. But I got over that real fast.
After a week of amazingly delicious food and sun and ocean, I had to say goodbye to Goa and move on to Bombay. I decided, in my infinite wisdom, to try taking a bus to Bombay instead of sticking to train travel. My brother drove me to the bus station, I said goodbye to him and Padma, and they drove away. The following is the story of what happened afterwards.
After wandering around the "bus station" which is really just a mish-mash parking lot of bicycles, motorcycles, and bags of grain, for an hour or so, my bus finally arrived. By this point I had met a Finnish couple (what is it with me and finding couples from small European countries?) who were also going to Mumbai on my bus, and we set off together. The Finnish woman got on the bus, while her boyfriend and I went to the back to drop off our bags. As we were putting our bags in the the bus, it starts moving. At first it was slow, and we though it was just reparking. That, not surprisingly, was wrong. The bus sped up, and Sven (That was probably his name, right?) and I just stood in silence watching the bus drive away. After it turned the corner, we realized that it was not reparking, and we somewhat half heartedly ran after it. Finally we found it behind the bus station, which should have been obivous I guess, and got on.
I then found my bunk, which was the bottom bunk in the third row. I got in and was immediately ecstatic. The berths in buses are at minimum 1 and a half times as big as the ones in trains and cushier. There's a built-in pillow on the bed and the bed and there's a window that spans the entire berth that you can open. Finally, there's a curtain in between you and the aisle that you can close at your leisure. I was in the process of writing that description in my journal when an Indian woman sat down next to me.
"So, could I have the inside?"
Snap.
So I move over a little to allow room for person number two in my berth and she is immediately incredibly friendly and I notice that her English is impeccable. Throughout our entire time together I never heard her speak Hindi once. She spoke English to everyone on the phone and to the driver. Well, sort of. Instead of writing out our conversation I'll do one of those dialogues I'm oh-so fond of.
Her: So where are you from?
Me: I'm from America.
Her: (Smiles and slowly nods) You are a committed Christian.
Me: (bewildered) umm not- not really...
Her: (Smiles and nods) I see.
(Insert more chit chat)
Her: So you are learning Hindi?
Me: Yeah.
Her: Make sure the Hindu religion doesn't suck you in.
Me: (At this point realizing that the friendship may be strained from here on in) Uh huh. Don't think that will happen.
Her: (She says this in a completely soft voice as if it was all something I had heard before) It's just...you know, it is a very silly religion. There was no religion before Christianity and all religions are based on of it. Even Hinduism, whith its many Gods says that truly there is only one God. Islam says the same thing. All of the world religions are based off of Christianity, you know. They have just all deviated from The Path. Even Catholicism has. I used to be Catholic, but I have accepted Jesus as my Personal Savior and have been born again.
Me: Uh huh. Kay.
Her: (After a moment) What do you think about the world situation?
Me: The world? Like...the whole world?
Her: (Knowlingly knods)
Me: Umm...well uhh I'm happy Barack Obama was elected. I think Israel's being overly violent. The economic crisis is pretty serious. Is there something specific you wanted me to respond to?
Her: Do you think there's a hidden agenda?
Me: ....By whom?
Her: There's a hidden agenda to rip the morals from today's youth, from people like you. By the media.
Me: Mmm...
Let's just say it continued like that for a while...Until she made the decision to tell me about how it is the Endtimes.
Her: The Bible proves to me that this is the Endtimes because of everything that is happening. In the next few years, this is what will happen. The world will get worse and worse for 3 years. There will be almost complete chaos, and no one will be able to stop it. Then, all of a sudden, the world will become peaceful for no apparent reason. A calm will come over the world, but it will only last for 2 years. And then it will be Armageddon.
Me:
Apparently the people who accepted Jesus as their personal savior will get into Heaven. But, the people who haven't will go to Hell. Also, the people who have accepted Jesus as their personal savior in the final 5 years (so pretty much anyone who isn't Born Again already) STILL might not get in because there is "limited space". Heaven is like an 21+ concert and I'M AUTOMATICALLY GOING TO BE LAST IN LINE.
I really don't have a joke to say about her. She turned out to be really nice woman and helped me get into Bombay safe and sound. She was a very good woman, and an even better Christian.
So after that conversation in the middle of the night, I went to the bathroom. This meant that when the bus stopped so all these men jumped off to pee (no women) I was followed suit and became that crazy Westerner. I scurried passed all the men and scrambled over a stone wall to shelter myself from the bus's headlights. As I was sitting there, I looked at the sky and saw the most stars I think I have ever seen. Due to the lack of pollution and dust, I could see about ten times as many stars as I can normally see. It completely blew my mind. After I got back in the bus and laid down, I looked passed the back of Yvette's (that was her name) head and watched the stars for hours. It was exceedingly beautiful.
After arriving in Mumbai I walked around my first day. I think in total I covered about 5 miles of Bombay's Bandra neighborhood. The second day Sara came with her two friends, Lisa and Jocelyne, and we went out with a few Indian friends for New Year's Eve, which was awesome. We went to a club and danced for a few hours. The men were CRAZY. We all went to the bathroom in a group, and someone grabbed Sara. I proceeded to berate the guy, yelling at him in a really thick Hindi accept IN ENGLISH (It's a weird thing that starts when you've been here for a while- when you can't speak Hindi to them, you start talking to Indians in their accent). I was yelling, "Sir, you grabbed my friend. You grabbed her! You can say you didn't, but sir, why would she lie? You can't do that. That's not okay." My hands were waving in his face and I had pretty much taken on the attitude of a stereotype of a really pissed of Indian woman. Who spoke in English. Happy New Year.
The next day we walked around South Bombay, which is more or less exactly like Manhattan. It was a pretty fun day and we ate lunch at the place that the Bombay attacks started, a restaurant called Leopolds. The bullet holes were still in the walls. The next day we went to Elephanta Islan which has all sorts of relgious importance that I would describe to you, but I wasn't really listening to the guide so I can't tell you anything correct about it. There will be pictures in the next post.
I left that night to come back to Varanasi and take the second 36-hour train ride of my winter vacation. I slept the first night without much problems and spent the entire next day sitting and staring at people. I just napped and stared. Most Indians on the trains just sit and nap, so I decided to try it out (well, I was also avoiding copious amounts of homework I had and still have). It was surprisingly easy. The time still went about as fast as it would if I have music and books.
The next morning I woke up at 3 AM to the coldest temperature I think I have EVER experienced. Ever. At least, the coldest temperature that I was in NO WAY prepared for. I had two sweaters and a blanket on and I would have let someone chop off my feet if it meant an end to the pain. Later on in the morning, I woke up, and sat with a huge family. They were amazed that I was learning Hindi and surrounded me. The family had one grandmother, 8 aunts and uncles, and each of those people had at least thirty children of their own that I met. And every child that met me was forced to shake my hand and say good morning before they would be allowed to eat breakfast. It was great and didn't make me feel awkward at all.
Upon finally getting in the vicinity of Varanasi, I asked how much longer. Everyone said twenty minutes. Our train was doing the seemingly impossible- it was going to arrive on time. But, as that is impossible for India for do, the train stopped. It came to a full stop and didn't move for another five excruciating hours. Five hours of sitting in the middle of this family and talking to all of them, being asked to sing American songs as well as well known Bollywood songs, and being flat out laughed at. Roundabout hour three, one of the many girls asked me for a gift from America. At first I said I didn't have anything American (most of my stuff at this point is Indian). but finally I dug up a three-year-old mini perfume bottle that I had never used and gave it to her. In return I got an elastic bracelet with mini roses on it meant for a six-year-old. What a sucker, right?
So after I sat in that train for a total of 34 hours, and when I arrived I found out that a) my wallet was stolen and b) Varanasi is 57 degrees but feels like the blueish center of a snow bank. My wallet only have about 600 rupees in it (about 12 dollars) and I still have my passport so that wasn't hugely bothersome, but still was pretty annoying.
My first day of class back we had a really painful two-hour long meeting about logistics. I don't want to talk about. What I DO want to talk about is the fact that my program coordinator, Shashank, was late to work. When he got here I asked him why he was late. He said that he couldn't leave his house because someone had performed black magic in front of his doorway, so he couldn't leave. Someone is trying to kill him or hurt him, so he had to get someone to sweep it away form his front door before he left the house...obviously.
Yeah. So...yeah.
I'm overall very happy to be back. I worried lot about my time in India for the last four months. I was just always worried that I wouldn't like it here or I would miss being at school too much. I guess I was just worried that I wouldn't adjust well. But I think my time in these past few weeks (i.e. lying on the beach, traveling alone so much, figuring out everything myself, seeing so many new cities, standing up for my friend, getting my wallet stolen) has somewhat tied me close to India. Also, Varanasi feels a lot different than it felt last year (It's 2009, guys). Maybe it's the cold, or maybe it's the fact that I've been here for four and a half months, but I really feel at home here. Well, at home and really really cold. I need at least one pair of socks if I plan on surviving, and, taking my previous week into account, it seems as if I'm going to do that.
-allison
The Winter Land Odyssey around India: Pictures
Here is Part II! You can read the text post and then refer back to these photos with their neat little captions!
This is a map of India with all of my travel methods detailed out.
This is Goa. Merry Christmas to me.
Scott, Padma and I buried each other in the sand. It was awesome.
We all went a little crazy after being freed from our sandy graves.
The Taj was being worked on while we were in Mumbai. There was some debris on the backside of the hotel, but it still looked as grand as all the pictures make it seem.
This is Elephanta Island. There were lots of really old statues, and some really nice offering flowers.
This is a map of India with all of my travel methods detailed out.
This is Goa. Merry Christmas to me.
Scott, Padma and I buried each other in the sand. It was awesome.
We all went a little crazy after being freed from our sandy graves.
The Taj was being worked on while we were in Mumbai. There was some debris on the backside of the hotel, but it still looked as grand as all the pictures make it seem.
This is Elephanta Island. There were lots of really old statues, and some really nice offering flowers.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Hyderabad? More like...HyderabadASS
My December vacation trip around India started with me being, as my brother coined, a doofus. Misreading my train ticket (which was in English just to paint that picture for you) I arrived at the Varanasi train station not one, not two, but five hours early for my train. So after sitting in the train station for half an hour I decided to go see a movie at one of the malls that were close by. The movie, which I saw after a quick bite at McDonalds, was called "Oh, My God."
In the film, God jumps between snarkily narrating the story and snarkily showing up as various supporting roles. The story is simple. Guy comes up with a money-making scheme; guy prays to god that it will work, gets fired for handing out pamphlets about his scheme at work, guy repeatedly gets given money by God, guy goes insane lying on a pile of money in the street, God, as a mental hospital doctor, tells him he is mqking good progress and then guy ends the film by playing ball with his friend's daughter. It was all very straightforward and a real treat to watch.
After the movie I went back to the train station where I sat in the ladies waiting room for an hour until 9pm: the hour when my train was orignally supposed to arrive. To make a long and very boring five hours short for you, after three "This American Life"s and several sudokus later, the train arrived at 2am and I got on. I don't have much to say about the actual train ride except that I wasn't allowed to sit in the doorways because Indian officials love rules and I was on the train for 36 hours. Now, I'm the last person to say that train travel is boring, but 36 hours on a train is pretty substantially a) uncomfortable and b) boring. In any case, I arrived in Hyderabad 8 hours late, where I was met by the people I am staying with, a Belgian couple named Katrein and Hans. I met Katrein through Couchsurfing.com a week ago or so, and asked if it could stay with her. She said yes and I totally (I mean totally) lucked out.
First of all, I didn't have to take a rickshaw to her house, because she met me at the station with her driver, Saiid. We went back to her totally swank apartment where I was shown to my own room and bathroom. Right as I walked in I smelled something familiar, but I couldn't tell what it was. Katrein then said, "Oh, the bread must be ready, one minute," and then took out bread from her bread machine.
What? I was just in India...right? Wrong. Welcome to heaven.
So I spent some time napping and eating freshmade bread, and then Katrein, Katrein's friend's son Pinto, and I went for a walk around Lotus Lake. It's a really beautiful lake with a very nice and trash-free path around it. Afterwards we came back to the house, I learned how to say some words in Dutch (my accent is apparently very good) and waited for Hans, Katrein's boyfriend, to come home. We went upstairs to have a drink with a woman from Germany who was very nice, but was upset that she couldn't being her cat home during her vacation due to the EU's crazy animal-protection rules.
Roundabout 7 we went to the "Twin Cities Tea" which is just a bunch of ex pats (people from Western countries who leave to live in India) and NRIs (non-resident Indians). Anyway, I overheard the most American conversation ever (at least in recent memory):
Scene: two men, one very skinny, one very overweight; both have crewcuts and both are American.
Anyway, so after we ate some food there, we went to a club called Firefly. Before we went in Katrein said, "Now, if you're uncomfortable, tell us and we can leave. I don't know if I could handle this coming from your kind of city." I, foolishly, said, "Oh no, don't worry. I'll be fine." And thus it began.
I entered into a midnight blue, black, chrome, and glass room with music so loud the clothes that weren't right up against your body vibrated with every beat. The people all had skinny jeans, gelled hair, and black eye-liner. I saw the craziest haircuts ranging from a faux hawk to a fashion mullet. Run Lola Run was playing on four projector screens throughout the club and the bartenders were in complete silhouette, with blue neon lights pulsing on the wall behind them. Waiters in entirely black outfits with polished silk ties suggested drinks like 'cosmos,' 'mojitos,' and 'lemon twist martinis.' This place was out of this world. Or at least the hell out of India.
I spent two hours talking to various very successful couples who decided to live in Hyderabad for various reasons. Most had been brought up India, and everyone I talked to had spent at least seven years living the US. At 11:30 we got a hookah and sat in a side room that was entirely white plastic. The waiters brought us water. Then it was closing time. The club cleared out in a matter of minutes and it was 11:57. The clubs, Hans and Katrein told me, all close at midnight. So we very abruptly were ushered out into the elevator and went home to sleep.
Today Katrein and I saw Golconda fort, which was great, and then we bought tomatoes and cucumbers for a tomato, cucumber, and feta cheese salad, which was also great. The two activities were pretty on par for me. The rest of the day has been spent walking around and cooking myself dinner. Overall, a very good day.
But despite my pretty laid back day, the title of this entry remains to be my opinion of Hyderabad.
I saw a fashion mullet, people.
-allison
In the film, God jumps between snarkily narrating the story and snarkily showing up as various supporting roles. The story is simple. Guy comes up with a money-making scheme; guy prays to god that it will work, gets fired for handing out pamphlets about his scheme at work, guy repeatedly gets given money by God, guy goes insane lying on a pile of money in the street, God, as a mental hospital doctor, tells him he is mqking good progress and then guy ends the film by playing ball with his friend's daughter. It was all very straightforward and a real treat to watch.
After the movie I went back to the train station where I sat in the ladies waiting room for an hour until 9pm: the hour when my train was orignally supposed to arrive. To make a long and very boring five hours short for you, after three "This American Life"s and several sudokus later, the train arrived at 2am and I got on. I don't have much to say about the actual train ride except that I wasn't allowed to sit in the doorways because Indian officials love rules and I was on the train for 36 hours. Now, I'm the last person to say that train travel is boring, but 36 hours on a train is pretty substantially a) uncomfortable and b) boring. In any case, I arrived in Hyderabad 8 hours late, where I was met by the people I am staying with, a Belgian couple named Katrein and Hans. I met Katrein through Couchsurfing.com a week ago or so, and asked if it could stay with her. She said yes and I totally (I mean totally) lucked out.
First of all, I didn't have to take a rickshaw to her house, because she met me at the station with her driver, Saiid. We went back to her totally swank apartment where I was shown to my own room and bathroom. Right as I walked in I smelled something familiar, but I couldn't tell what it was. Katrein then said, "Oh, the bread must be ready, one minute," and then took out bread from her bread machine.
What? I was just in India...right? Wrong. Welcome to heaven.
So I spent some time napping and eating freshmade bread, and then Katrein, Katrein's friend's son Pinto, and I went for a walk around Lotus Lake. It's a really beautiful lake with a very nice and trash-free path around it. Afterwards we came back to the house, I learned how to say some words in Dutch (my accent is apparently very good) and waited for Hans, Katrein's boyfriend, to come home. We went upstairs to have a drink with a woman from Germany who was very nice, but was upset that she couldn't being her cat home during her vacation due to the EU's crazy animal-protection rules.
Roundabout 7 we went to the "Twin Cities Tea" which is just a bunch of ex pats (people from Western countries who leave to live in India) and NRIs (non-resident Indians). Anyway, I overheard the most American conversation ever (at least in recent memory):
Scene: two men, one very skinny, one very overweight; both have crewcuts and both are American.
- A: So where are you from in the states?
- B: Chicago
- A: *leans back and nods while saying* Ooooohhhyeah Chicago. Whereabouts?
- B: *extends his pinky from his beer and makes a circle* Belmont area you know, down the green line?
- A: Yeah yeah, the green line. My sister spent some time in Chicago a few years back; college.
- B: *that tongue click thing people do* Yup.
Anyway, so after we ate some food there, we went to a club called Firefly. Before we went in Katrein said, "Now, if you're uncomfortable, tell us and we can leave. I don't know if I could handle this coming from your kind of city." I, foolishly, said, "Oh no, don't worry. I'll be fine." And thus it began.
I entered into a midnight blue, black, chrome, and glass room with music so loud the clothes that weren't right up against your body vibrated with every beat. The people all had skinny jeans, gelled hair, and black eye-liner. I saw the craziest haircuts ranging from a faux hawk to a fashion mullet. Run Lola Run was playing on four projector screens throughout the club and the bartenders were in complete silhouette, with blue neon lights pulsing on the wall behind them. Waiters in entirely black outfits with polished silk ties suggested drinks like 'cosmos,' 'mojitos,' and 'lemon twist martinis.' This place was out of this world. Or at least the hell out of India.
I spent two hours talking to various very successful couples who decided to live in Hyderabad for various reasons. Most had been brought up India, and everyone I talked to had spent at least seven years living the US. At 11:30 we got a hookah and sat in a side room that was entirely white plastic. The waiters brought us water. Then it was closing time. The club cleared out in a matter of minutes and it was 11:57. The clubs, Hans and Katrein told me, all close at midnight. So we very abruptly were ushered out into the elevator and went home to sleep.
Today Katrein and I saw Golconda fort, which was great, and then we bought tomatoes and cucumbers for a tomato, cucumber, and feta cheese salad, which was also great. The two activities were pretty on par for me. The rest of the day has been spent walking around and cooking myself dinner. Overall, a very good day.
But despite my pretty laid back day, the title of this entry remains to be my opinion of Hyderabad.
I saw a fashion mullet, people.
-allison
Friday, December 5, 2008
India's the Sparkliest Country in the World
On Wednesday at 5 pm we all got on the train and set off for Jaipur to attend Virendra-Ji's niece's wedding. Ariel, Denae, and I had berths near one another, so we all piled into a section. almost immediately, we were bombarded by Frenchmen, who were all wondering out loud who we were and where they were supposed to be. Now, it's been about 2 years since my last French class, but I did take it for 12 years, and I can still understand it when someone says, "Why are there Americans in my berth?" Don't think you fooled me, Frenchie, I see your game.
After a few hours of lounging about the train, I spent some quality time sitting in the doorway listening to TaTu with Sara, where I discovered that my dream of becoming an international pop idol may be closer than I thought. I then returned to my berth where Ariel was talking to the aforementioned Frenchies. She asked me to do my Frenchman-speaking-Hindi impression that Ed and I are now famous for, and I reluctantly obliged, clearly seeing the next step in the conversation.
Me: (Lots of embarassingly gutteral sentences in Hindi that you would only see in a really bad SNL skit)
Frenchman:
That's right. NO WORDS. Just a look dripping with, "I'm not amused." And you know what? I didn't even blame him.
After that I went to sleep, and spent the next morning once again lounging about the train, wandering to different berths my friends occupied. Then I sat in the doorway for a while. Then I wandered around more. Then Ariel bought some really disgusting candy that tasted like Cap'n Crunch. Then we found out about the attacks in Mumbai.
I don't really know how to describe the feeling we all had. All of us on the program are constantly looking up news sites and talking about current events, and for every one of us to be stuck on a train unable to find out any information, was torture. Sara's friends were saying that foreigners, specifically Americans and British people, were being targeted and shot in the street. The Taj was on fire, and the Oberoi as well. Passports were being checked, and the death toll was around 80. We thought all of those deaths were foreigners, at the time. But as the death toll climbed, we tried to buy newspapers at the train stations we stopped at. Every newspaper was in Hindi, but we were able to pick out enough information to tell us what was going on. We eventually found out that foreigners weren't being targeted, and that passports weren't, on the whole, being checked.
The whole experience felt so much like September 11th for me. I felt like I did when I was watching the second plane hit the tower, waiting for my brother to call and tell us he was okay. I felt useless and scared and yet very distant. It was a terrible thing that happened, and I'm just exceedingly happy I wasn't directly affected by it. We have a friend in Mumbai, and he was also thankfully unharmed.
After we arrived in Jaipur the mood lightened a little and Sara, Mary Beth, Denae, Maya, Ariel, and I went to our hotel. We all showered and put on clean clothes, went shopping, and then went out to dinner.
We had Thanksgiving dinner at a vastly overpriced (Four dollars for a pizza? Please.) Italian restaurant, where we were all had a fun time talking about what we bought and how overpriced everything was in Jaipur. Abbie, a girl who studied Hindi with our professor and is in her gap year, asked us to say what we were thankful for. We each said something, some of them funny, some not. I said that I was thankful that I don't have to worry about my family and friend's safety back in the States. I can, pretty consistently, count on all of them being safe. I think everyone agreed. Though it was an extremely hard day for India, it was a pretty significant Thanksgiving for me.
The actual wedding was two days after Thanksgiving, but the day before the wedding is a ceremony called the Sangeet. Traditionally, the bride's family sings and dances for the groom's family, and the groom's family waves money over their heads and puts it somewhere. I never really found out where. Either the band or the newly wedded couple gets the money. Either way, it's waved over people's heads.
We were allowed to drink actual alcohol at the Sangeet (which of course, I did not partake in) and I saw a man, one of the caterers, carrying around a pitcher and visiting various tables in the eating area. He would stand by one of the tables, chat a little to the guest and would refill people's glasses on whiskey.
That's right, a pitcher. Of whiskey. My first thought when I saw that? "Go big or go home, India. Go big or go home."
We also danced for about two hours. Oh my god. Everyone was saying that our dancing was so good, and I was so sure they were lying. But, we were into it and having fun. Here are some photos of the Sangeet.
Sara and I created a dance called "Makin Chapati." We got really into it.
Chris got way, way more into it.
So after that we went shopping more (I bought so many gifts), and we got ready for the wedding. We got to the bride's family's house an hour early so that we could all put on our sarees and jewelry, and everyone seemed ecstatic that we got so decked out. Sara had a tiika, huge nose ring, and whatever that thing is called that goes from the nose ring to your hair on, and was totally bolywood blinged out. Sadly, it was deemed too flashy (seeing as no one but the bride wears this), and Sara decided for a more low-key everyday nosering. But, don't worry. We got pictures of the whole look.
The wedding was great- it was huge and set in a massive Greek-themed courtyard. There were hot gelabies and sarees side by side with what appeared to be a plaster statue of Cesear Augustus. It was pretty awesome. The bride was wearing what must have been 30 pounds of clothing, not including her jewelry, which must have been another 10 pounds. Her Rajasthani dress was literally dripping with gems and silver, while her face and neck were guilded in gold. She looked stunning, and the wedding was absolutely magnificent.
The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful except for the fact that our hotel had the best garlic bread ever (or at least in India...yeah, you're right, definitely not ever) and I spent practically every meal there eating spinach salads, tomato soup, and garlic bread. Mary Beth bought some bleu cheese, and we put that on the spinach salad. I swear I have never been so happy to eat a leaf in my entire life. Ever. I also, miraculously, had SPANIKOPITA. It was incredible. And though in the back of my mind I knew it was the worst spanikopita I had ever had, I didn't care. I still don't.
We did see Ek Vivah...Aisa Bhi (A wedding...even like this) and Dostana (Friendship). I don't want to talk about the first one; it was pretty uneventful and not funny. Dostana, however? Oh god. It was brilliant. Here's the story line. Two guys want to rent an apartment in Miami (the Indian idea of utopia in America, by the way), but a girl lives there alone, and her Auntie only wants women to live with her. But the apartment is SO NICE that the two guys decide to pretend they're a gay couple so that they can seem non-threatening and get the really nice apartment. Anyway, the main female actress's name is Priyanka Chopra and she was Miss World. She's really godamn pretty. So anyway, the two guys predictably fall in love with her and lots of dancing ensues. It was so awesome. The gay jokes in it are HILARIOUS.
Is there a man running like he's in heels? Yeah.
Is there an exorcism with skulls to get rid of the gay? Well, yeah.
Is there a guy in a leopard print muscle tee and a dog collar? Would it be a movie about gays if the answer was no?
Oh my god it's so good. I will force all my American friends to watch it with me when I get back to the states. I will continue to be your friend on the sole condition that you love this film with me. Here's a song from the film. Oh my god it's so good.
http://in.youtube.com/watchv=8sKNKf_0Oxk&feature=related
http://in.youtube.com/watchv=8sKNKf_0Oxk&feature=related
Anyway, so we're back in Banaras and as of six hours ago I finished my last final, so I am officially on vacation. And here is my schedule for the next month.
December 6-10: Varanasi
December 11-15: Hyderabad
December 16-18: Chennai
December 18-20: OkHornPlease: Padster, Scott, and Allison road trip to Goa.
December 20-27: Goa
December 27-January 3: Probably Mumbai
January 3-April 30: Varanasi
I'll try to update on my journey, but there sadly won't be any photos for a while. I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving!
-allison
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
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
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
Thursday, November 6, 2008
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.
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.
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