Mussoorie-tastic

I just want to preface this with two things. First of all, there have been a number of terrorist attacks in India recently, and I want everyone to know I'm okay. The bombs went off in Delhi, which is pretty far away from me, and right now I'm in an incredibly safe city. Second of all, and more importantly, there will be no pictures in this post. I know, I know. But I apologized, so now we should be able to move on.

We took a 20-hour train (it left at 10 AM and got in at 6 AM the next day) to Mussoorie on Saturday. I, obviously, spent the majority of my time sitting in the doorway, inches from death. Almost every Indian who walked by said "It's quite risky" or "That's incredibly dangerous" or "I'm going to come back in five minutes to make sure you're not doing that anymore". The latter man never did come back, so I remained undisturbed.

I don't know why train travel affects me the way it does, but oh my god it is amazing. Never once while on a train have I just wanted it to be over. Even when I was "sleeping" during the night, not being able to extend my legs, abet my sweating, or ignore the cockroaches, did I want the trip to be over. And I'm not lying about the cockroaches; one scurried over my pillow while I was reading. I pretended it didn't happen until the train ride was over, when everyone finally broke down and told their own cockroach-in-their-bed stories. Denial, I swear to god, has been an invaluable tool for my continual survival in India.

The first thing everyone remarked on when we got off the train in Derhadoon (an hour-long taxi ride from Mussoorie) was the temperature. It wasn't cold enough for a long-sleeve shirt, but it was significantly below "I don't care if wearing underwear and nothing else is culturally inappropriate; I'm DYING." As the taxi climbed the mountain, it got even cooler, and everyone was happier for it.

After a quick nap and a walk around the city, everyone had decided that Mussoorie was incredible, nay, Paradise. Firstly, it has a fair amount of Western places, of which Varanasi is surprisingly bereft. Secondly, the fact that my forearms aren't sweating makes me be over the moon for Mussoorie and, consequently, India. I can't stress that latter point enough.

Guess what's not on my forearms? Sweat.

And I realize it wasn't a tricky question considering the previous sentences.

So far in Mussoorie, I have bought a few presents, a pair of pants to sleep in (because shorts are TOO COLD), a shawl, and a sweater. All day I have been wearing a sweater, and, my dear friends, what a glorious, glorious day it's been.

Yesterday I was sitting in an internet cafe (the internet never started working, but I tried for a good half hour), reading a book, and I glanced down at the street. In one of the stores, I saw a Sikh man collecting a dozen or so scarves someone had looked at, but had left in piles throughout the store. The man slowly walked through his abandoned store, picking up the discarded scarves and piling them near the register. He would pick up one scarf, fold it in half, put one edge of the center fold in his mouth, and fold it twice more. After each scarf was folded, he would meander throughout the store to put them, one by one, back in place. Now, I don't know why on earth i had this reaction, but it was most comfortingly American thing I have experienced since being in India. It doesn't make much sense, because I don't have a strong memory from the US involving folding scarves, but everything about India that I can't stand, the burning trash, the honking, the mangy dogs, all went away while I was watching him. It was as if I saw this man, who had in fact tried selling me a scarf previously that day, as exactly the same as everything I know. Maybe I had to see an action that simple, that closely linked to muscle-memory, to feel that way. I'm not sure. India's been overwhelming to me, and it was my first taste of real comfort.

So, that's it of Mussoorie so far. I have taken a lot pictures, so hopefully I will be able to post them soon. I will be in Mussoorie until October 2nd.

-allison

Accident Report GH-726

It's been almost a week since I moved in to my apartment, and I have just gotten the time/internet availability to post pictures. Why did I not have internet? Cheifly because I'm in India, but also because monkeys tore down our internet lines. Because I'm in India.

I have a few gripes, but overall it's a pretty good apartment. Here's a picture of my room and the almost Brooklyn-esque style kitchen.





My room is okay, I like my view of the kitchen. My shelves, on the other hand, are totally boss. I'm also the only one with a bed frame not completely made out of wood, but don't tell my roommates. They might steal it from me.

These are two views from my apartment. One: Watter buffalo. The other: Pretty sunset.







The temperature's cooled off a bit since my last entry, but is still hovering a degree or two above sweltering, and a few degrees shy of Hell. I have been sleeping outside due to the planned power cuts (10am-2pm and 1am to 4am) wherein I cannot enjoy the minorly helpful breeze of my ceiling fan. I use the word "enjoy" extremely tentatively. Due to my porch-camping I have gotten, as of the most recent count, 49 bug bites (the 49th happened during the actual count). Now, these bug bites don't really look like mosquito bites, but I'm deciding they all are due to the terrifying reality of what kind of bites they could potentially be. That being said, my 49 mosquito bites are treating me really well.

Okay, I know that everyone knows India's dirty, but I don't think I ever really knew exactly to what extent that was true. I have had a few Sex-and-the-City-Opening-Sequence-esque moments where a motorcycle has driven by and splashed me with the most horrifyingly opaque water I have ever seen. Quick question: what's worse than seeing the opaque waters of India? Smelling the opaque waters of India. Oh Lord. River banks of trash + rivers of dead bodies + untold fecal count = a smell I have only experienced here and in the hall of my freshman dorm. Seriously. Whoever spilled that vinegar and DIDN'T CLEAN IT UP is a huge jerk.

Okay. Here is a picture of my feet after a day in India.

Needless to say I shower every night.

Now that I have an apartment I almost have a daily routine, which is making India a little easier to get used to. Though, there is a Hindi intensive retreat that starts this weekend, and is two weeks long. I think when I come back from the retreat, which is in Musoorie, I will be able to really settle in.

Yesterday was one of the better days I've had in India. I biked around Benaras, went to a cafe called "Bread of Life" and had surprisingly good pancakes. They were like...really good. Yeah. After pancakes, I biked around more, got lost, and finally found my way to Lanka market, which is near the program house. I used my Hindi to buy some flashcards and a pencil case that has several soldiers on it with huge lettering that says "EASTER". I then walked across the street and bought a soda. When I was walking away with the recycled bottle, he yelled to me about the bottle I was holding. I yelled back, "Me bottel vaapas karoongi!" which means "I will return the bottle!" He wobbled his head and went back inside, which I figured meant he understood me. After coming through on my promise, a little girl came up to me and asked me for money. I bought her a piece of candy, had a brief conversation with her in Hindi, and biked off. After all of this, I was feeling totally self-reliant and in control.

Then I was T-boned by a motorcycle.

It was totally my fault, and right after it happened I just looked at him, my bike, muttered "maf keejiye" (excuse me) and hobbled to the side of the road. He slowly drove off, and one by one, about a dozen Indian men came over to help me. All of them were speaking super fast, super colloquial Hindi. The front wheel of my bike was bent, and the spokes were poking out everywhere. One man took my bike from me and starting kicking it. Another started yelling "FIX! FIX!" During this time I lost every single Hindi word I had ever learned and stood, clutching my bike, shaking my head at everyone who tried to speak to me. Finally someone spoke to me in English and told me to go to a mechanic. I nodded, because my bike couldn't roll anymore due to the front wheel fracture, and a rikshaw took me to a mechanic. As I was leaving I waved to everyone and used the only Hindi word I could scrounge from my memory, "Danyevad" (Thank you). They all seemed very happy to watch the white girl fumble with a broken bike, and I was happy to oblige them.

We arrived at a mechanic's shop (two tool boxes and eight men on the side of the road) and I got off the rikshaw. The rikshawalla said I owed him 30 rupees. I shook my head and, with my handicapped bike in hand, argued with this man, saying that the drive was only 5 minutes and it should be 20 rupees. During this exchange, all 8 men came up and to watch me sputter, all jumping in to agree with one side or the other. Eventually I handed the man 20 rupees and walked away. And just to clarify, "walking away" really means lifting the front of my bike up and dragging it 10 feet away. The rikshawalla rode off, and I turned my attention to the mechanics. (By the way, for the rest of my time there, I would understand snipits of conversations about how I wouldn't pay 30 rupees to the stubborn rikshawalla.)

First off, they were all absurdly nice to me. One man walked across the street solely for the purpose of procuring a stool for me. He also ended up getting me a soda (not the brand he said he would, but beggars can't be choosers, I suppose). The man knows even less english than I know Hindi, so our conversation was incredibly incongruous and even now I don't know most of what was said. Here's a good example of what our conversations were like.

Him: Your country from?
Me: USA
Him: Me? Bengal.
Me: (raises eyebrows and nods slowly) Neat!
Him: Me- Bengal. Jogging.
Me: (Squints)
Him: Jogging.
Me: (Squints)
Him: Jogging (makes running motion with arms)
Me: Wow! (I still have no clue as to what he's talking about)
Him: (Smiles) Ahh! Bengal! (Hands me his driver's license).
Me: Jogging!
Him: Yes! Jogging!

I still don't know if he just enjoys jogging, is a professional jogger in Bengal, or is even the national joggER of Bengal. Either way, he loves to talk about it.

So after 2 hours of, more or less, that exact exchange, my bike was fixed up with all new spokes. (In retrospect, I think when he kept saying "New! New!" over and over again, he may have been asking me if I wanted all new spokes, and not telling me I needed them. But I'm over it.)
At first the second mechanic said it was going to be 250 rupees, I took out my wallet and (sort of) lied by saying I only had 200 rupees. He wobbled his head saying "it's okay, it's okay" and took my money. Jogging man then came over and yelled to the second mechanic to give me ten rupees. Without contest, he gave me 10 rupees. So, somewhow the price went from 250 to 200, to 190 rupees. I'm still confused as to why this happened, but I didn't argue. Looking back, it was probably because I said that I would come back when my motorcycle broke down, which is going to invariably happen. Anyways, In the end it only cost me about 5 dollars, and I rode off into the sunset.

Here are a few pictures of bike post-fixing. I'm sorry I didn't get any photos of the broken bike, because my camera wasn't on me. But, look how shiny it is now!

Well, I'm going to go pick up the Royal Enfield today and hopefully I will actually be able to come home with it. I have no idea how lofty that dream is. We'll see.

-allison

The Overnight Express Delhi-Varanasi Limited

On Monday I traveled from Chennai to Delhi to meet up with everyone from my program. The flight was fine, despite a bit of confusion over which airline I was actually flying.

I arrived at 9:30 in the morning and got a pre paid taxi. I told him to go to the Blue Triangle Hotel on Ashok Road. I knew it was near the YMCA, and perhaps across the street from the YWCA (a fact I vaguely remembered reading in an e-mail a few days earlier). After a long, traffic-y journey to the YMCA, he told me we had reached our destination, though the Blue Triangle was not in sight. I asked a man at the YMCA where the Blue Triangle was. The cab driver gets out of the car, has a tiff with the guard, and then the cab driver, in a huff, got back in the driver's seat. I hesitantly got back in the car we drove off. By chance, we passed the Blue Triangle, I yelled in what I'm sure was completely fluent Hindi, "The Blue Triangle is there! The Blue Triangle is there!" We parked on the sidewalk, he tried to get 50 rupees out of me for the tip (I know, right? Ridiculous. That's practically a dollar.) and I entered the hotel.

After signing in, I went up one flight of stairs to my room. I had already known everyone on the program from this past summer, but wasn't sure whom I was living with during the interum preiod in Delhi before we got apartments. As I entered the room, I saw two huge black bags full of clothes. On top of a bag, I saw one half of a pair of snakeskin pumps. Catherine was definitely my roommate. I asked the hotel manager and he said that she had gone out with some other people from the Wisconsin trip.

I decided to spend the next few hours not looking for my friends, but spending some quality time on the first bed I had been on in about a week. It was definitely the right decision. I napped and read for about 3 hours, at which point I heard someone fumbling with some keys outside. Catherine's first encounter with skeleton keys wasn't going well, so after a waffling minute or so, I opened the door. We hugged, and I went to the other girls' room.

The next few days was spent going to a mosque, some historical sights, the National Museum in Delhi, and eating incredibly good food. We also visited the AIIS (American Institute for Indian Studies, I think) headquarters outside Delhi. We spent a total of about 5 hours there, and while i would love to detail everything that happened it can be summed up in a few key details.

1) The entire group was jet-lagged out of their minds and exhausted.
2) Total, I think we spent 3 hours in libraries talking to ecstatic archivists.
3) We spent about an hour in a small AV room talking to a music media archivist. One of the program directors fell asleep.
4) We spent the 30 minutes following in another small room with a map archivist who said the word "actually" 68 times. I counted.

So...I don't really need to give you guys a play-by-play of that afternoon.

On Thursday night we took an overnight train to Varanasi. The train station was very cramped, ridiculously crowded, and had an ever-present (not so) faint waft of urine. After waiting half an hour for the train a drunken man starting yelling at us about how we are foreigners and we will never be from India. Squeezing his water bottle in anger, he shouted "This is a country of angels!" He then lost interest and wandered away. He came back several times, but never said anything. His scowl was the only communication he shared.

After another half an hour, the train arrived. The train stood without opening its doors for 20 minutes, and we boarded. Here are some pictures of the train journey.

The floor was disgusting, the food was sub-par, and the men around us loved staring at the white kids. The squat toilets smelled terrible, were (to my dismay)ridiculously slippery, and every five minutes a man would walk by barking out, "Chai, Chai, Chai!" It was most people's personification of complete discomfort.

Despite this, if you know nothing about me, know this: I love train travel. I love everything about it. I spent an hour sitting on the stairs with the door flapping next to me watching the country go by. And though I was sitting in a viscous pool of something, it was brilliant. I can't really describe how it made me feel, but it lifted a lot of anxiety I had about my decision to go to India. I guess that's that only way I can describe it. If anyone ever wants to take a journey on a train, count me in. I will be so down.

We arrived in Varanasi at 8:30 AM, and moved all of our bags into the program house. After moving in, we ate breakfast and spent some down time around the house. During said down time I found our mailboxes, and while everyone elses' names were spelled right, mine had a mispelling I had never seen before. If anyone wants to write me a letter, make sure you spell my name "ALLLSON," otherwise, they might not know who you're writing to.
That evening we had a musical performance that was incredibly impressive, and I stayed up late on the roof of our house with Catherine, Chris, and Sam takling about tattoos, politics, and global warming. Here are a few photos of Mary Beth on the roof to give you an idea of what it looks like.

Today I went for a walk to Assi Ghat with Mary Beth, Catherine, and a flimsy, handwritten map Shashank made for me. The famous steps to the Ghats are mostly underwater (three cheers for monsoon season) so we just sat at the top of the stairs for a while before we each had a 7up and made our way back.

So far I like Varanasi, save one thing. It is so hot here. It is hotter than Chennai or Delhi. The second your shower is done, you feel exactly the same as you did before you starting showering. Which is usually equal amounts of sticky, sweaty, and uncomfortable.

In short, so far so good. I have a cell phone now, which is pretty great. You can e-mail me if you would like to call (All incoming calls are free for me, but expensive for you. Pretty much everything is inexpensive for me.) me at any time.

I hope all of your respective countries are doing well.

-allison

ps. McCain's running mate? Anyone? Aaanyone? Everyone on the program found out in the computer lab and could not stop talking about it. Did you know Sarah Palin's husband is a champion snowmobiler?

The Motorcycle Blogaries

My (almost) week in Chennai has had a few memorable moments and/or beverages that have really made my visit here great. The first few that come to mind are the epic rainstorm my first night (see previous entry), seeing The Dark Knight, eating post-apocalyptic enchiladas, riding on the back of Scott's motorcycle every day, getting bitten by ants during the night, and strawberry-banana smoothies (I swear to god people, if you think you've had a good one in the states, you're dead wrong. I'm not kidding.). But perhaps the most memorable time I've had here is learning to ride a motorcycle.

You heard me. Riding. A motorcycle.

What you should know is that there were two main drawbacks. One was the helment Scott made me wear that was lined with, what I can only assume was, a queen-sized down comforter which made it hard to see, hear, and breathe. The other was the constant reminder that this was probably the most dangerous decision I could make while in India. But, the pros (which were that I'd be riding a motorcycle and...well, that's it) quickly pushed those drawbacks to the wayside to make room for Scott's 2007 Royal Enfield. This is me, the helmet, and Scott's newer Royal Enfield.Three years ago, Scott taught me how to drive his stick shift. After this, he promptly left for India, but his car stayed with me in the states. Though the standard took me a few months to master, I have been driving his Hyundai ever since. It's safe to assume standard transmissions and I have become pretty close over the years.

Despite my uncanny ability to lose my balance, my many years of teaching myself to ride my bike with no handlebars paid off, and within 20 minutes I was motoring around the block.









Just so we're both aware, it's also safe for you to assume that I'm a total badass.

Pending program approval, he might send up his old Enfield for me to drive around in Benaras. If he does, I will probably have to promise him (and my mother) to wear a stuffy helmet. It's totally worth it.

I leave tomorrow to fly to Delhi to meet everyone on my program, then a few days later I go to Benaras. I'm totally excited for Benaras. I've really liked my visit in Chennai, but I'm really looking forward to getting to know a city. When I first got here was terrified I would hate India. I think I've more or less accepted that I'm going to hate India sometimes, but I also know that other times I'll really love it. In all, I'm really happy about my decision to come here. At least this way I get to expand the amount of linen in my wardrobe. And anyone who knows me well knows how important that is to me.

On tonight's agenda is packing, going to a super fancy restaurant, and showering. I will update after I get to Delhi, though I can guarantee the pictures won't be as cool.

-allison

Baptism by Fire....or water.

I just arrive at Scott's apartment in Chennai. I will update the specifics tomorrow, because i just took some ambien and i can feel it kicking in. The title should give you a hint.
____________________
Okay, so it's the afternoon the 20th and Scott and I are currently in his apartment lounging around waiting for some rice to cook. We are both pretty tired because we went to bed at around 4 AM last night. My flight got in at 1:10 AM. Why did we go to sleep at 4? Well I'll tell you.

So my traveling started at 10:16 AM on the 18th, which was supposed to get to the Newark Airport at around 2:30 PM. My flight left at 8:25 PM, but the next bus got me to the airport at 6:45, and was just cutting it too close.

After the 4 and a half hour bus ride, I took the monorail to the airport, and in the process almost got separated from my bag. But, my bag and me made it to Terminal B where Jet Airways was.

Wait. Where is Jet Airways? I ask about 5 attendants where the check-in was for Jet Airways, and they all point me in different directions. The last one tells me that Jet Airways hasn't set up yet. I have gotten to the airport before my airline. Noted, Jet Airways.

So eventually I get on the plane (after 6 hours of waiting) and fly for 6 hours to Belgium. I sit next to a super affectionate, super French couple and watched Step Up 2: The Streets. It was a pretty good plane ride.

I arrive in Brussels, wait for an hour, and then board my next plane. This flight is 10 hours long. Roundabout hour 3 my back is killing me from sitting for so long. I watch 3 movies, nap a little (though I don't want to go to sleep for fear of exacerbating my jet lag), and watch a killer episode of Planet Earth. Which one? Seasonal Forests.Did you know that there is a forest in South America where there are deer who are normally the size of a medium dog, who's young are the size of kittens? Deer Kittens. Are you kidding me, Earth?

The plane finally lands in Chennai and it is pouring outside. There's lightening and thunder and super strong wind. A truck with a boarding staircase drives up to the plane, but eventually retreats for safe, less gusty area. The pilot goes on the PA system and says that we need to stay on the tarmac until the storm dies down. We are delayed for 30 minutes on the tarmac of our destination.

We finally get to the airpot itself and head to customs. Customs take approximately 2 minutes including waiting in line, and then I go off to claim my baggage. While waiting, an official over the PA system says, "Allison Cairnee, please come to the front desk. Allison Cairnee." After locating the front desk, I tell the man who I am. He tells me that my brother was having car trouble and he'd be late. 'No problem,' I thought. 30 minutes later I collected by bag and was waiting for Scott to arrive. No Scott. Suddenly I hear, "Allison Cairnee, please come to the front desk. Allison Cairnee." I return to the desk. The man tells me that Scott is stuck in traffic, but gives me his phone number. I call my brother, the handset disconnects twice from the reciever, but I finally talk to him. He is five minutes away. We hang up, and I go outside.

It's my first time in India since 2006 and that India smell hits me really hard. It's not the bad smell of burning sewage that I also closely associate with India, but the other, less offensive smell. It's a little smoky, a little like tumeric, and everpresent. I see Scott, wave, and try to find my way over the 4 foot metal barricade. After hugging, we get in the car (I try to get in the driver's seat before I realize that traffic is different here). He tells me about the hellish trip he's had (a breakdown followed by an insane traffic jam), and says that the car keeps getting water logged. By this point, it has begun raining again, but fairly lightly. However, the unevenly paved Indian roads have aquired oceanic puddles that make the car hiss and promptly power down. The power in the car keeps going out, but amidst our many pirate jokes, we get closer and closer to his apartment with relatively high spirits.

The problem arises when we are faced with the fact that in front of Scott's apartment parking lot is a monumental lake. A truck slowly drives through it, and his wake breaks on the newly made shore a few feet in front of us.

"We need another plan," Scott says. I definitely agree.

We try a back route, Scott braving the ever-deepening sea beneath us. The car squeals, and shuts down. We wait a few minutes for the engine to drain before realizing that where we are the engine is underwater. Therefore, it's not draining.

"We need another plan." Scott repeats.

He rolls up his pants, gets out and pushes the car back about 40 feet. We wait a minute, and then head off down another route. Trying to come at the apartment from a different road, we go through another epic puddle. Whispering words of encouragement, we urge the car to make it just two more blocks. But, the car is tired, and the water is deep. With a silent shudder, the car goes to sleep. Once more, Scott braves the murky, sewage-ridden water to bring the car to safety. After half a block, I join him. Waving to his newspaper vendor, Scott gets back in the car and we close in on the apartment. I give it one big push over the threshold, and we park it. We've made it. It's 3:30 AM. We go upstairs, where we find that the power is out. Luckily, Padma (my sister-in-law) had set out several candles to help us stumble around the apartment and had made my bed, which is a mat on the floor. Scott and I drink some fairly ambiguously named "Sleepy Tea", and head off to bed.

By the time I got in my pajamas, took my Ambien, and went to sleep, I had been traveling for 30 hours.

So that was my first night in India. Padma, Scott and I are going to see the new Batman movie tonight and go to some really nice French pastry shop. I don't know what else is on the docket, besides sleep, that is.

For now, I am in India and things are going well. I haven't come to a conclusion about how I feel about being here. I like it, but 9 months is a pretty big commitment. I think as soon as I have a home base, a daily schedule, and more than one pair of pants, I'll be happy. But before all that, and before I can even begin to fathom traveling to New Delhi on the 25th, I need to catch up on some sleep.

I'll update you all soon,
Allison

The Calm Before the Storm

I'm in Westport, MA right now spending time with my family. Laura, my sister, is here with her boyfriend, Sage. My dad is trying to take as much time off as he can, so my sister and I have been spending a lot of time with him and Joanie.

Tonight we had a big family dinner, and I cooked a braise and some mashed potatoes with fennel. I'm not a very good forward-thinker when it comes to cooking, so things like this end up happening when I wash pots too early.

Now, after the precarious tower of meat, I browned the ribs and then started the 3 hours process of the braise.

Here is the progression of the potato dish.








And for the final photos of the meal.









This post is strongly reminiscent of every food-related post my sister makes on her blog. If memory serves, we even have made this meal together and she has a post about it.

I've been spending most of my time in Westport at the beach or at home. It's been raining off and on for the entire time I've been here, but the weather has been overall incredibly great. I swear that New England is the best place on the planet. You can try to prove me wrong; I wish you the best of luck. I ran a few errands in the morning and then went to the beach at around one. About an hour after returning, it started pouring. And by pouring I mean biblical end-of-days pouring, and for the first time ever, I took and outdoor shower in a thunderstorm. It seems like a stupid idea at first, until your towel is soaked, and you need to get back inside. Then it's still a stupid idea.

The rest of today was spent cooking and watching Seinfeld, which I enjoyed to a surprising extent.

The rest of my time here will be spent hanging out with my family, seeing friends, doing errands, and avoiding packing as best I can. So far, I have been achieving the latter goal very successfully. I go to India on Monday (that's in a mere 4 days), at which point I see Scott!

I'll talk to you all soon,
allison

Maiden Entry

I am still in Madison, busying myself with everything other than studying for my impending final exam. I feel like Hindi is going very well, though I suppose I should still be (somewhat) invested in the grade I get.

I've been meeting with Afsar (one of my T.A.s for the Hindi class) more or less every day to either study Hindi or that so he can teach me some Urdu. As of right now, I can almost write sentences like "That is a chair." So things are going swimmingly.

I've been feeling rather sick lately, but I think it will pass. I feel as if it's just stress about my upcoming 9-month long journey to India. And even though I am nervous about my trip, the closer it gets, the more excited I get. Whenever I see pictures of India or I hear other peoples' stories about India, I'm overwhelmed with a really positive feeling. It's great. I can't imagine a better feeling to have about it.

On Saturday I am returning to Westport, MA for a week or so to see friends and family. And on August 18th, I leave for Chennai to hang out with my brother, Scott, for a week. On the 25th, I go to New Delhi to meet up with the rest of the program, then go to Benaras on the 28th (ish).

I'll update soon,
allison