I leave India in less than a month and the realization hasn't seemed to hit me yet. Several fellows in the program have already left yet the reality that I soon will be back home seems just as foreign now as India once was to me. Sometimes I just want time to speed up, but more often than not, I'm wishing it would slow down. It's always funny how quickly time passes, to the extent that I remember saying goodbye to my parents in the airport like it was yesterday. And it is just now that I am really starting to feel the effect India has had on me.
Perhaps the biggest change I have noticed is that to me, India is no longer the foreign or the strange. Sure, we like to make an occasional "oh India" joke but this is out of a fondest for the hectic, pulsating life we lead here. Instead India feels, oddly, like a second home. I say this is odd because India is so different from any place I have known or probably will ever experience again. I have ceased to have those moments where I stand in awe of the fact I am in India because eight months of adjusting have meant everything here now is normal. In fact, I know the bigger adjustment will be going home and not quite being able to articulate this experience to anyone who hasn't lived it.
The funny thing is, if someone asked me if I recommend living in India, I would heistate. I think that no matter where we end up living, even if it is paradise, we never truly value it until we've left. I remember Spain and Mexico with a nostalgia sometimes that I almost feel physically, as if I've lost something. But I also know that while I was there I had plenty of moments where all I wanted to be was back home. And India, for all its intensity and craziness is a place where sometimes one must compartamentalize. I think that I will only really begin to value the experience here in hindsight.
Don't get me wrong, I know this has been the most profound year of my life. But being here, living the day-in and day-out often distracts one from self-reflection. I recently read an article in the New York Times which speaks about "Thin Places," or places where our norm and our equilibrium is shaken to a point where we experience something deeply new and moving. I realize now that Hyderabad and snippets of my experience in India have been exactly that. But I can't appreciate them completely except in retrospect.
But perhaps that's what makes travel and living abroad so powerful. You don't know the effect of it until it's already passed. It's something you want so much to hold on to while you're in the moment but its true value is in what it brings to you after the fact. And this is why once you start, you can't stop. Being abroad is exhausting. It challenges you mentally and physically like little else can and it can test your limits. In the moment, you are so concerned with surviving, with taking it all in, with getting the most of your experience, that you don't realize the most important moment is the one when you get home. The one where you sense a change in perception, in your way of thinking, maybe even in your independence and self-confidence. Yet at the same time, it's addicting.
So this homecoming will most definitely be bittersweet. Full of nostalgia for my two homes. I don't know if I'll return to Hyderabad, but I do know that I will take the relationships, the knowledge, the world view with me wherever I go. It will always be one of my "thin places."
PS- the article link is http://travel.nytimes.com/2012/03/11/travel/thin-places-where-we-are-jolted-out-of-old-ways-of-seeing-the-world.html?pagewanted=all%3Fsrc%3Dtp&smid=fb-share
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Precious Resources
When you live in a developing country, water and electricity tend to be two things that are in short supply. They also happen to be two things that make life much more tolerable. So, as the heat of the summer months in Hyderabad kicks in and temperatures soar well over the 100s, it becomes a bit more than just annoying when our apartment loses power or we have no running water. It is one of those things that makes you want to tear your hair out, jump in a pool, or grab a ticket for next flight out of this place.
To put this in context, I guess I should explain about where I live. Banjara Hills is considered one of the "nicer" areas of town, which means it's more western, rents are higher, and there's a McDonalds within easy reach. But it is also one of the highest consumption areas so we have been the one apartment in all of IDEX who has been having water problems all year. It is to the point where I am happy if we have running water in our taps for more than two hours at a time. In fact, one memorable night, we were without running water from 4PM to 12AM which meant that cooking, showering, washing dishes, or even brushing our teeth was pretty much out. And on Holi, because it was a holiday and water tankers were not delivering, one of our roommates was unable to shower and forced to spend the night still covered in paint. Hyderabad is in a semi-arid region which means water is a precious commodity that must be doled out accordingly. Well that and the city really has no idea how many wells there actually are so they can't access them. And while we have been much more judicious with our usage, we still are parched for water.
At the same time, as temperatures rise, the demand for electricty increases. This also means that different regions of the city have scheduled power cuts each day. For example, we used to have power cuts from 10-11 and 3-4. These aren't so bad when you can plan for them, like downloading what you need on your computer so you aren't left without internet and anything to do. But of course, it sucks when the fans stop running and the heat starts to seep in and you're in the middle of typing an important email. And if we don't have running water on top of that? Well let's just say there's been a few times when I've stood on my balcony and told India I was not impressed with its timing.
Yet this is a reality in the developing world and one that most people have to deal with. Living in India has made me realize just how heremtically sealed the United States is and how damn lucky and pampered we are. Corny I know, but when we are spending our time back home complaining about gas prices that are much less expensive than what the majority of the world pays, think of not having a necessity like water at your disposal. It sucks. There's really no other way to describe it. And then we end up paying out of pocket every few days when a new water tanker does come to fill the apartment complex's tank. So I probably pay as much for water one a semi-daily basis as you do for a gallon of gas. Which if you put that in real terms, would be a huge chunk of most Indians' incomes and is a not-so-minimal part of mine.
One ex-pat once told me Indian behavioral norms can often be attributed to a shortage of resources. For decades, there have been more people here than there have been basic necessities. Which is why people shove there way on and off buses and trains without waiting for others to exit, or why lines are fairly non-existant. And no wonder. I'm fairly certain we would all behave like that too if we didn't always have enough water or room on public transportation.
So please, next time you start to think that you have it bad or that your life sucks, take a moment and ask yourself if it really does. I am willing to bet that most of what you're upset about the majority of people in this world can only dream of having. Like that car payment or having to get your Iphone fixed. At the very least, can you do me a favor and turn off your taps when you're not using them? I appreciate it.
To put this in context, I guess I should explain about where I live. Banjara Hills is considered one of the "nicer" areas of town, which means it's more western, rents are higher, and there's a McDonalds within easy reach. But it is also one of the highest consumption areas so we have been the one apartment in all of IDEX who has been having water problems all year. It is to the point where I am happy if we have running water in our taps for more than two hours at a time. In fact, one memorable night, we were without running water from 4PM to 12AM which meant that cooking, showering, washing dishes, or even brushing our teeth was pretty much out. And on Holi, because it was a holiday and water tankers were not delivering, one of our roommates was unable to shower and forced to spend the night still covered in paint. Hyderabad is in a semi-arid region which means water is a precious commodity that must be doled out accordingly. Well that and the city really has no idea how many wells there actually are so they can't access them. And while we have been much more judicious with our usage, we still are parched for water.
At the same time, as temperatures rise, the demand for electricty increases. This also means that different regions of the city have scheduled power cuts each day. For example, we used to have power cuts from 10-11 and 3-4. These aren't so bad when you can plan for them, like downloading what you need on your computer so you aren't left without internet and anything to do. But of course, it sucks when the fans stop running and the heat starts to seep in and you're in the middle of typing an important email. And if we don't have running water on top of that? Well let's just say there's been a few times when I've stood on my balcony and told India I was not impressed with its timing.
Yet this is a reality in the developing world and one that most people have to deal with. Living in India has made me realize just how heremtically sealed the United States is and how damn lucky and pampered we are. Corny I know, but when we are spending our time back home complaining about gas prices that are much less expensive than what the majority of the world pays, think of not having a necessity like water at your disposal. It sucks. There's really no other way to describe it. And then we end up paying out of pocket every few days when a new water tanker does come to fill the apartment complex's tank. So I probably pay as much for water one a semi-daily basis as you do for a gallon of gas. Which if you put that in real terms, would be a huge chunk of most Indians' incomes and is a not-so-minimal part of mine.
One ex-pat once told me Indian behavioral norms can often be attributed to a shortage of resources. For decades, there have been more people here than there have been basic necessities. Which is why people shove there way on and off buses and trains without waiting for others to exit, or why lines are fairly non-existant. And no wonder. I'm fairly certain we would all behave like that too if we didn't always have enough water or room on public transportation.
So please, next time you start to think that you have it bad or that your life sucks, take a moment and ask yourself if it really does. I am willing to bet that most of what you're upset about the majority of people in this world can only dream of having. Like that car payment or having to get your Iphone fixed. At the very least, can you do me a favor and turn off your taps when you're not using them? I appreciate it.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Watching the Watchman
What to say? Well for starters that I have been horrible at continuing up this blog the last few weeks. Part of the reason for this is an inability to come up with topics that I think will interest you all. Life has reached a point here where everything seems normal and those “oh India” moments have faded into the recent past. This is apropos, seeing that I will be leaving here in less than 2 months. But this is also reminiscent of the fact that Hyderabad is now completely a second home for us. And there is probably nothing that drives that fact home more than the story of our evolving relationship with the watchman of our building and his family.
When we first moved in, Mr. Tiwali (or Tiwari – we’re still not sure) was an unknown entity. He was amiable enough, with a wife who was always to be found sitting in the parking area of our building, overseeing all, and two daughters who could speak English better than most kids their age, and a son who I have yet to hear speak. However we always felt awkward around him, feeling bad when we would come home after the gate was locked at 12PM and we tried our best to quietly open the latch, which inevitably squeaked and groaned and moaned with each pull. And as much as we would try to silently sneak past the platform where he slept, he would almost always wake up with a start before recognizing us in the dark. We started to think he resented us and our late nights.
Even worse was when we would have friends over. He seemed willing to let our American eccentricities extend to our foreign friends but it was a different story when it came to Indians. Once, when my boyfriend came over early in the evening for dinner, Mr. T (as we now call him), came storming upstairs, informing us that as we live in an all-girls flat, there would be no boys allowed. Of course, this made all of us girls angry, as we had never been told what to do in this manner. We cursed the traditional Indian sentiments surrounding gender roles; we reflected on the irony that the American boys who lived in the flat below us would walk in at any time of day or night to borrow a spatula or milk and that this wasn’t a problem yet with an Indian it was. Most of all, I went downstairs and gave Mr. T a piece of my mind, saying that this was our home, we paid to live here and we also paid for him as our watchman, and that I would invite anyone over I damn well pleased. Of course, with his limited English skills and the fact that his daughters were not around to translate, I’m not sure how much he understood, but at least I felt better about the whole ordeal.
After tip-toeing around for several weeks, things started to settle into normal and somehow, though I can’t quite pinpoint where the change occurred, Mr. T’s family started to warm up to us. His wife cooked a chicken curry and brought it up to our flat, which I reciprocated by baking them brownies on my birthday (apparently here, you give people things on your birthday and not the other way around). Mr. T started to give us rides on his motorbike if he spotted us trudging up the hill on our way home, and he always jovially came to fix our broken light switches. His daughters also took to watching movies with one of our flatmates and finding reasons to linger in our apartment whenever they needed to deliver a message to us. It has gotten to the point that we refer to Mr. T’s wife as “mommy” (partly because we don’t know her actually name and that’s what everyone else calls her, and partly because she forever endeared herself to us when she asked us for a beer one day).
It is funny how quickly relationships change and grow here. At first, the watchman’s family was as suspicious of us as we were of them – an unknown entity, foreign, and with cultural values and traditions different from each other. But over time, perhaps just through the closeness of living in the same place, that all changed and our difference became a point of hilarity and humanity between us.
So here’s to home sweet Hyderabad. My approaching departure leaves me with mixed feelings that I will be sorting with for months to come. But for now, I’m just going to appreciate this life as is.
When we first moved in, Mr. Tiwali (or Tiwari – we’re still not sure) was an unknown entity. He was amiable enough, with a wife who was always to be found sitting in the parking area of our building, overseeing all, and two daughters who could speak English better than most kids their age, and a son who I have yet to hear speak. However we always felt awkward around him, feeling bad when we would come home after the gate was locked at 12PM and we tried our best to quietly open the latch, which inevitably squeaked and groaned and moaned with each pull. And as much as we would try to silently sneak past the platform where he slept, he would almost always wake up with a start before recognizing us in the dark. We started to think he resented us and our late nights.
Even worse was when we would have friends over. He seemed willing to let our American eccentricities extend to our foreign friends but it was a different story when it came to Indians. Once, when my boyfriend came over early in the evening for dinner, Mr. T (as we now call him), came storming upstairs, informing us that as we live in an all-girls flat, there would be no boys allowed. Of course, this made all of us girls angry, as we had never been told what to do in this manner. We cursed the traditional Indian sentiments surrounding gender roles; we reflected on the irony that the American boys who lived in the flat below us would walk in at any time of day or night to borrow a spatula or milk and that this wasn’t a problem yet with an Indian it was. Most of all, I went downstairs and gave Mr. T a piece of my mind, saying that this was our home, we paid to live here and we also paid for him as our watchman, and that I would invite anyone over I damn well pleased. Of course, with his limited English skills and the fact that his daughters were not around to translate, I’m not sure how much he understood, but at least I felt better about the whole ordeal.
After tip-toeing around for several weeks, things started to settle into normal and somehow, though I can’t quite pinpoint where the change occurred, Mr. T’s family started to warm up to us. His wife cooked a chicken curry and brought it up to our flat, which I reciprocated by baking them brownies on my birthday (apparently here, you give people things on your birthday and not the other way around). Mr. T started to give us rides on his motorbike if he spotted us trudging up the hill on our way home, and he always jovially came to fix our broken light switches. His daughters also took to watching movies with one of our flatmates and finding reasons to linger in our apartment whenever they needed to deliver a message to us. It has gotten to the point that we refer to Mr. T’s wife as “mommy” (partly because we don’t know her actually name and that’s what everyone else calls her, and partly because she forever endeared herself to us when she asked us for a beer one day).
It is funny how quickly relationships change and grow here. At first, the watchman’s family was as suspicious of us as we were of them – an unknown entity, foreign, and with cultural values and traditions different from each other. But over time, perhaps just through the closeness of living in the same place, that all changed and our difference became a point of hilarity and humanity between us.
So here’s to home sweet Hyderabad. My approaching departure leaves me with mixed feelings that I will be sorting with for months to come. But for now, I’m just going to appreciate this life as is.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
A Better Burkha
So when I say "burkha," you all must picture the long black robe-like garment and hijab head covering some women wear which is ubiquitous with much of the Islamic world. And I assume (and excuse me if I'm wrong) that most of you think of it as being an oppressive garment which husbands or fathers force their wives and daughters to wear. Now what would you say if I told you that a young,educated, modern 23 year old American woman living and working in Hyderabad went out one day and bought a burkha and now happily wears it around to run errands and go to work?
Growing up in America and especially after 9/11, the idea of donning a burkha never would have crossed my mind. In fact, I was taught that much more than a garment, it was a symbol of oppression and that any woman wearing it was a victim of her culture. Of course, as I grew up and attended some more liberal-thinking schools, I began to realize that some women do choose to wear the burkha of their own accord and for various reasons. But still, it would never be for me. That was for those other women, who call God by the name of Allah and who are still considered subordinate to men in many ways.
But now listen to this story. Said young American woman works in a majority Muslim school in a majority Muslim area of the city where most women do wear burkhas. She is used to getting stares by men and women alike in the neighborhood but that still doesn't mean it is any less annoying. One day, this girl was in an autorickshaw with her friends, in the early evening, in the "western" area of Hyderabad, going out to dinner. So these girls were dressed up a bit, in jeans and nice t-shirts. Two Indian men on a motorcycle were alternately following alongside of the auto and behind it, hassling the girls a little. Then one of the men reached into the auto and grabbed this woman before speeding off. That was enough for her. The next day on her way home from school she bought the cheapest burkha she could find which just so happened to be blinged out a bit. And she saw the city from a new side.
The first thing she noticed was that it was really hot under there. Although the fabric was light, the black color didn't exactly deflect the sunlight. Also, her peripheral vision had all but disappeared with the head covering. Yet at the same time, no one stared at her and in fact, for the first time since coming to India, she was basically ignored. Luckily she has brown eyes and so is indistinguishable as a foreigner. She also got auto drivers to agree to take her anywhere in the city at the price of a meter which doesn't usually happen to any of us. And most importantly she felt more secure and comfortable throughout the day and even at night where she could travel alone well past the time when most of us can. She's even received numerous compliments from Indians, both Muslim and non-Muslim, for her new covering.
So, before you judge, consider. Unfortunately, I know that most of you, dear readers, are worldly and well aware of the complexity of the issue surrounding such a simple garment. The people who really should read this won't. In my friend's case (and no I wasn't talking about me), wearing the burkha is definitely a personal choice and one that has made her life easier and more comfortable. Exactly the opposite of what most of us would expect. If it wasn't for my low heat tolerance I definitely would have worn the burkha by now and it's still on my to-do-before-I-leave-India list. With that I leave you with a hope, a hope that we just start treating the burkha as what it is - an item of clothing. This is not to say there are not instances where it is misused as a tool for oppression and I do think a woman should have a choice if she wears it or not. But let's not demonize those who do. Who knows, she may even be someone you know.
Growing up in America and especially after 9/11, the idea of donning a burkha never would have crossed my mind. In fact, I was taught that much more than a garment, it was a symbol of oppression and that any woman wearing it was a victim of her culture. Of course, as I grew up and attended some more liberal-thinking schools, I began to realize that some women do choose to wear the burkha of their own accord and for various reasons. But still, it would never be for me. That was for those other women, who call God by the name of Allah and who are still considered subordinate to men in many ways.
But now listen to this story. Said young American woman works in a majority Muslim school in a majority Muslim area of the city where most women do wear burkhas. She is used to getting stares by men and women alike in the neighborhood but that still doesn't mean it is any less annoying. One day, this girl was in an autorickshaw with her friends, in the early evening, in the "western" area of Hyderabad, going out to dinner. So these girls were dressed up a bit, in jeans and nice t-shirts. Two Indian men on a motorcycle were alternately following alongside of the auto and behind it, hassling the girls a little. Then one of the men reached into the auto and grabbed this woman before speeding off. That was enough for her. The next day on her way home from school she bought the cheapest burkha she could find which just so happened to be blinged out a bit. And she saw the city from a new side.
The first thing she noticed was that it was really hot under there. Although the fabric was light, the black color didn't exactly deflect the sunlight. Also, her peripheral vision had all but disappeared with the head covering. Yet at the same time, no one stared at her and in fact, for the first time since coming to India, she was basically ignored. Luckily she has brown eyes and so is indistinguishable as a foreigner. She also got auto drivers to agree to take her anywhere in the city at the price of a meter which doesn't usually happen to any of us. And most importantly she felt more secure and comfortable throughout the day and even at night where she could travel alone well past the time when most of us can. She's even received numerous compliments from Indians, both Muslim and non-Muslim, for her new covering.
So, before you judge, consider. Unfortunately, I know that most of you, dear readers, are worldly and well aware of the complexity of the issue surrounding such a simple garment. The people who really should read this won't. In my friend's case (and no I wasn't talking about me), wearing the burkha is definitely a personal choice and one that has made her life easier and more comfortable. Exactly the opposite of what most of us would expect. If it wasn't for my low heat tolerance I definitely would have worn the burkha by now and it's still on my to-do-before-I-leave-India list. With that I leave you with a hope, a hope that we just start treating the burkha as what it is - an item of clothing. This is not to say there are not instances where it is misused as a tool for oppression and I do think a woman should have a choice if she wears it or not. But let's not demonize those who do. Who knows, she may even be someone you know.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
The Road More Traveled Part 2
When I last left you, we were on our way to Varkala, along the Arabian Sea , for some serious beach time. I had been recommended to visit the place by a friend but I had no idea what was in store for me. Varkala Beach at least, where all the tourists go and you’d be hard pressed to spot any Indians, is a beautiful clifftop town, with restaurants, shops and cafes lining a paved walkway along the deep drop to the sandy beach and ocean below.
Of course, I felt scandalized as soon as we arrived to the town, feeling like a young girl as I gawked at all the foreigners. I mean, women were walking around in their swimsuits and wearing revealing dresses and skirts I hadn’t seen since college. And they were in INDIA and doing so! Geez, have some respect, I thought. Once I got over my initial shock and we had settled into our “bamboo hut” lodgings, I did my own bit of rebelling by changing into shorts and a tank top, things I didn’t think I would be able to wear until next July.
My friend and I walked along in the sun, happy to feel the ocean breezes buffeting us on the cliff and being able to stretch our legs after so much driving in the last few days. We stopped at a restaurant almost completely packed with Caucasians, most of whom I discovered were Russian, German or Scandanavian, and were drinking beers with their lunch. I had another “where am I?” moment before settling in to order a sandwich that had real, honest to goodness, avocado in it. Delicious. Before dinner we went down to the beach and walked some more. As we got further from the town along the water, we finally started seeing large groups of Indians on holiday themselves. I had wondered where they all were. Then it was time for a seafood dinner with prawns, calamari and white fish. I felt like I was in paradise and continued to feel that way after waking up to the roar of the ocean water.
We ended up taking a cooking class at our hotel where I have to say, we made some pretty delicious Aloo Gobi, Chicken Tikka, Eggplant Bajii, Biryani and Chappathi. The thing about cooking here though and trying to write down the recipes was that there really aren’t exact measurements and fresh spices of all kinds are way easier and cheaper to find here than at home. I do have to admit that I committed a cardinal post-lunch sin by immediately going down to the ocean to swim but the water was calling to me. There is nothing like warm, salty waves to make a person forget the stresses of life. And some after dinner shopping and early morning yoga before leaving Varkala definitely didn’t hurt any.
This particular morning, I had decided to go swimming again before having to catch a ride to Trivandrum. While I was at the beach, I was constantly disturbed by the whistles of lifeguards any time an Indian man approached the sunbathing foreigners with his mobile phone camera out. “Good,” I thought. But then it started to seem they were blowing their whistles at all Indians who were on the beach, or, God forbid, swimming in the water. After this happened a few times, I marched up to a lifeguard. There was no way I was swimming at a segregated beach. “Oh no Madam, Indians are allowed but it is only a family beach, no bachelors.” To be fair I had seen them only turn away single Indian men or groups who were swimming and I saw a woman and her child walk by undisturbed. But then why were bachelor foreigner men allowed on the beach as well? Needless to say, I didn’t quite appreciate his explanation.
Our final Keralan afternoon was in Trivandrum, almost on the southern most tip of the subcontinent as we awaited our flight to Delhi. Trivandrum was pleasant, with actual sidewalks, palm trees and old British colonial buildings everywhere. We visited a royal museum and a beautiful temple before crashing early an the hotel to prepare our 6 AM flight. I was definitely getting tired of those early mornings and little did I know that the majority of the next day would be spent travelling as our flight to Delhi via Bangalore was diverted to Chennai due to fog in Bangalore. Landing and departing 3 times on the same plane is no fun and for perhaps the first and last time, I was relieved to have reached Delhi by the afternoon.
In an earlier blog, I spoke of my dislike for Delhi and I must admit, not much has changed, not even in this trip. My memories of Delhi will always be filled with brown, derelict-looking buildings, trash, crowds, and an awful smell that I can’t put my finger on but would make me nauseous every time we walked around. I know this may make me sound like a snob but I can’t help it. Anyway, both of us being crammed into a metro on our way to visit the Red Fort and Old Delhi and having our butts groped at least 2-3 times didn’t make me feel any better about the city. I think the biggest thing about Delhi is that as foreigners, everyone hassles us in the crowded areas. And since English is more widely spoken here, you can’t really escape. Delhi just doesn’t feel safe to me in the same way that most everywhere else I’ve visited here does.
We were disappointed to discover many of the monuments closed in preparation for big Republic Day celebrations which our flights to our respective homes ensured we just barely missed. Whoops. But we still got to see some really cool things like Hanuman’s Tomb which the Taj Mahal was based on and houses the grave of a Mughal Emperor. And on the plus side, our hotel was really nice and a cozy shelter from the freezing cold outside as temperatures dropped into the 40s at night. A big change from Hyderabad, that’s for sure.
Luckily we only had about 24 hours in Delhi before catching our train to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. At this point, I realized I should stop hating Delhi and being up north again because I would be one of the lucky few people who would get to see the Taj Mahal not once, but twice. And it definitely didn’t disappoint. While it was a lot colder at this sunrise, the dappled winter sunlight also gave it a more monumental feel and we spent several hours wandering amongst the garden and the Taj itself. It really is a convergence place of sorts, with Tibetan monks, Japanese tourists, western Europeans and every Indian imagineable all coming to marvel at what I still consider the most beautiful building in the world.
All too soon, it was time to head back to Delhi to fly home. I couldn’t believe how quickly the time had passed and I was sad to say goodbye to my friend. In all honesty, travelling here is what keeps me sane because it reminds me how absolutely incredible and diverse this country is and how lucky I am to be here. At the same time, I am always a bit bothered by my inability to appreciate these amazing places at the time I am there- instead I tend to realize only after the fact what I have been privileged enough to see. But being with my friend also reminded me that I am leaving in three short months. And while I do feel ready to leave and I do think it is time, I am starting to get those pangs of nostalgia already for my experiences here, both the good and the bad, and I am sure they will just continue to get worse. So here’s to the next few months, the next trip and all upcoming adventures! I hope you’ll keep reading about them…
Thursday, January 26, 2012
A Road Much More Traveled Part 1
I know it's been a while since I've posted, but for good reason. While you all were wondering why I wasn't writing in my blog, I was off galivanting around the country yet again. One of my good friends came to visit for two weeks and we decided it was time to go and check out Kerala, one of the most scenic states in India, before heading back up to Delhi and Agra so she could see the Taj. As always, traveling here is anything but simple and I've come to be in awe of the people I meet who backpack around the country for months at a time.
First we spent a few days in Hyderabad which meant that I finally got to see all of the sights that the city has to offer. Who knew the massive Golconda Fort or the famous white marble Birla Mandir Hindu temple could be so beautiful. Unfortunately, I was a bit under the weather and concerned I wouldn't be in traveling shape but trying to keep to early nights seemed to do the trick and by Sunday, I was ready to fly off to Kochi, in the heart of what Indians call "God's Own Country" in Kerala. (A note here: this has to be one of the most ironic names ever because the local state government in Kerala is and has been communist for many years).
Kochi is along the Arabian Sea and is famous for its fishing community, in particular, the Chinese fishing nets that many locals use not only to catch fish but also to generate some side income from letting tourists take pictures with them. It was a bit shocking to see so many foreigners on the narrow, brightly colored streets of downtown Kochi and in our hostel. I mean, Hyderabad hardly has any tourists in comparison to many other places in India, so it was a big surprise. But it was also a bit fun to haggle with the touts trying to sell me things and see how taken aback they were by my bargaining and Hinglish, realizing I wasn't just a tourist. Although that didn't mean we weren't hassled plenty.
Our one night in Kochi was spent eating delicious Keralan seafood curry and planning the rest of our trip details in a funky art cafe. I felt worlds away from Hyderabad and the stress involved in living there, although the stress of setting off into the unknown was definitely still present. In fact, the next morning we were supposed to be picked up by a taxi driver to take us to the hill town of Munnar and for some reason, I had a bad feeling something would go wrong.
Sure enough, as the scheduled time to be picked up loomed, I hadn't heard anything from the driver. I finally called him and he politely informed me that he was waiting for us. I said there was no way he could be waiting for us as I was standing in the street outside of our hostel and there was literally no traffic around. "Yes Madam, I am waiting. What time was your flight?" Suddenly, I realized he was at the arrivals gate at the airport, a full hour away from our hostel where I had told the taxi company to send the driver. So, like all good Indian businesses, the taxi company just sent us another driver who was nearby and had no idea he would be our driver for the next five days as the company apparently didn't give him ANY details as to our itinerary. Luckily for us, although Bose lacked many English skills beyond "Madam" and "thank you," he turned out to be a gem of a driver, but more on that later.
We finally set off for Munnar, a former hill station of the British Raj and the seat of tea production in Kerala. We left the lush tropical lowlands of the state and climbed a winding mountain road through beautiful green hills and small, bright villages. As we drove up the Western Ghats and the fresh air streamed into the window, I was reminded again of how much I missed being outdoors in nature. As an Oregonian, being surrounded by green is basically a prerequisite for living and Hyderabad is definitely not green.
Four hours later, we reached Munnar and our hotel which had stunning views over the neatly rowed, bright green tea fields and into the valley below. Plus, we even had a real shower (and by real I mean the shower head was physically separate from the rest of the bathroom) with hot water, a necessity as the temperature at that elevation dropped into the 40s. We spent our day in Munnar touring a tea factory and of course sampling said tea, wandering around the small town that reminded me of a trekking outpost, buying tea, and driving up to "Top Station," the highest point of the area with stunning views of impossibly green and steep mountains dropping into the fog below. And for once, my sweating was at a minimal due to the perfect temperature. Too much information I'm sure but when you live in India, a day without breaking a sweat is special indeed.
The true highlight though had to be the "bonfire" our hotel hosted on the rooftop. And by highlight, I mean funniest and strangely cute thing I'd seen in a while. First off, our bonfire was a small fire surrounded by stobe lights and rejected 90s music that reminded me of childhood Friday nights spent at the roller skating rink. But the true icing on the cake was the older man who was convulsing around, in some imitation of a dance, to the song "Barbie Girl." I had to admire his self-confidence as he imitated a penguin and I can only hope I will do the same when I am in my late 60s.
Unfortunately, it was also at this bonfire that my friend and I discovered we had a problem. Again, in typical Indian fashion, we were informed, quite matter-of-factly and almost cheerfully, that there was a strike in Kerala tomorrow, protesting a dam on the border with Tamil Nadu, and that there would be roadblocks set up on highways from 6AM-6PM and that it may be quite unsafe to travel at that time as people were liable to throw rocks and stop any vehicle trying to pass through. Awesome. Especially seeing as we had to continue on to the mountain animal reserve of Thekkady which was three hours away the next day. And then from Thekkady we had a houseboat we scheduled in the lowlands again, meaning that we really couldn't afford another night in Munnar. So our options were leave the hotel at 3AM that morning to reach Thekkady before sunrise or wait until 6PM and basically not have any time to spend in the area. After consulting our driver who had waited outside of the hotel for us to offer to drive us at 3, we decided to go for it. Of course, we spent three harrowing hours in the early morning, peering around every mountaineous curve, afraid we would be confronted with an angry mob, but we reached our hotel in Thekkady in one piece, shivering the cold but glad to be there.
Of course, that wasn't the end of our dilemma. You see, the draw of Thekkady is that it is the home of the Periyar animal reserve and one of the most popular activities is to take a boat out onto its lake and see wild elephants bathing and all sorts of other wildlife. But, our hotel was unfortunately several kilometers outside of town and as Thekkady just so happened to be on the border of Kerala and Tamil Nadu, it was at the center of the dam conflict. So we were advised not to even try travelling to the lake as there was definitely agitation and it might be closed anyway. We were really disappointed. Granted, the hotel we were marooned at was really a resort on 50 acres which included a pool, a walking path and a massage center but we hadn't really come to the area just to stay there. But it honestly wasn't that hard for me to settle into the rythmn of doing nothing for the day and by the end, I felt reenergized and ready to tackle the rest of Kerala, and, unfortunately, the chaos of New Delhi and Agra the next week...
First we spent a few days in Hyderabad which meant that I finally got to see all of the sights that the city has to offer. Who knew the massive Golconda Fort or the famous white marble Birla Mandir Hindu temple could be so beautiful. Unfortunately, I was a bit under the weather and concerned I wouldn't be in traveling shape but trying to keep to early nights seemed to do the trick and by Sunday, I was ready to fly off to Kochi, in the heart of what Indians call "God's Own Country" in Kerala. (A note here: this has to be one of the most ironic names ever because the local state government in Kerala is and has been communist for many years).
Kochi is along the Arabian Sea and is famous for its fishing community, in particular, the Chinese fishing nets that many locals use not only to catch fish but also to generate some side income from letting tourists take pictures with them. It was a bit shocking to see so many foreigners on the narrow, brightly colored streets of downtown Kochi and in our hostel. I mean, Hyderabad hardly has any tourists in comparison to many other places in India, so it was a big surprise. But it was also a bit fun to haggle with the touts trying to sell me things and see how taken aback they were by my bargaining and Hinglish, realizing I wasn't just a tourist. Although that didn't mean we weren't hassled plenty.
Our one night in Kochi was spent eating delicious Keralan seafood curry and planning the rest of our trip details in a funky art cafe. I felt worlds away from Hyderabad and the stress involved in living there, although the stress of setting off into the unknown was definitely still present. In fact, the next morning we were supposed to be picked up by a taxi driver to take us to the hill town of Munnar and for some reason, I had a bad feeling something would go wrong.
Sure enough, as the scheduled time to be picked up loomed, I hadn't heard anything from the driver. I finally called him and he politely informed me that he was waiting for us. I said there was no way he could be waiting for us as I was standing in the street outside of our hostel and there was literally no traffic around. "Yes Madam, I am waiting. What time was your flight?" Suddenly, I realized he was at the arrivals gate at the airport, a full hour away from our hostel where I had told the taxi company to send the driver. So, like all good Indian businesses, the taxi company just sent us another driver who was nearby and had no idea he would be our driver for the next five days as the company apparently didn't give him ANY details as to our itinerary. Luckily for us, although Bose lacked many English skills beyond "Madam" and "thank you," he turned out to be a gem of a driver, but more on that later.
We finally set off for Munnar, a former hill station of the British Raj and the seat of tea production in Kerala. We left the lush tropical lowlands of the state and climbed a winding mountain road through beautiful green hills and small, bright villages. As we drove up the Western Ghats and the fresh air streamed into the window, I was reminded again of how much I missed being outdoors in nature. As an Oregonian, being surrounded by green is basically a prerequisite for living and Hyderabad is definitely not green.
Four hours later, we reached Munnar and our hotel which had stunning views over the neatly rowed, bright green tea fields and into the valley below. Plus, we even had a real shower (and by real I mean the shower head was physically separate from the rest of the bathroom) with hot water, a necessity as the temperature at that elevation dropped into the 40s. We spent our day in Munnar touring a tea factory and of course sampling said tea, wandering around the small town that reminded me of a trekking outpost, buying tea, and driving up to "Top Station," the highest point of the area with stunning views of impossibly green and steep mountains dropping into the fog below. And for once, my sweating was at a minimal due to the perfect temperature. Too much information I'm sure but when you live in India, a day without breaking a sweat is special indeed.
The true highlight though had to be the "bonfire" our hotel hosted on the rooftop. And by highlight, I mean funniest and strangely cute thing I'd seen in a while. First off, our bonfire was a small fire surrounded by stobe lights and rejected 90s music that reminded me of childhood Friday nights spent at the roller skating rink. But the true icing on the cake was the older man who was convulsing around, in some imitation of a dance, to the song "Barbie Girl." I had to admire his self-confidence as he imitated a penguin and I can only hope I will do the same when I am in my late 60s.
Unfortunately, it was also at this bonfire that my friend and I discovered we had a problem. Again, in typical Indian fashion, we were informed, quite matter-of-factly and almost cheerfully, that there was a strike in Kerala tomorrow, protesting a dam on the border with Tamil Nadu, and that there would be roadblocks set up on highways from 6AM-6PM and that it may be quite unsafe to travel at that time as people were liable to throw rocks and stop any vehicle trying to pass through. Awesome. Especially seeing as we had to continue on to the mountain animal reserve of Thekkady which was three hours away the next day. And then from Thekkady we had a houseboat we scheduled in the lowlands again, meaning that we really couldn't afford another night in Munnar. So our options were leave the hotel at 3AM that morning to reach Thekkady before sunrise or wait until 6PM and basically not have any time to spend in the area. After consulting our driver who had waited outside of the hotel for us to offer to drive us at 3, we decided to go for it. Of course, we spent three harrowing hours in the early morning, peering around every mountaineous curve, afraid we would be confronted with an angry mob, but we reached our hotel in Thekkady in one piece, shivering the cold but glad to be there.
Of course, that wasn't the end of our dilemma. You see, the draw of Thekkady is that it is the home of the Periyar animal reserve and one of the most popular activities is to take a boat out onto its lake and see wild elephants bathing and all sorts of other wildlife. But, our hotel was unfortunately several kilometers outside of town and as Thekkady just so happened to be on the border of Kerala and Tamil Nadu, it was at the center of the dam conflict. So we were advised not to even try travelling to the lake as there was definitely agitation and it might be closed anyway. We were really disappointed. Granted, the hotel we were marooned at was really a resort on 50 acres which included a pool, a walking path and a massage center but we hadn't really come to the area just to stay there. But it honestly wasn't that hard for me to settle into the rythmn of doing nothing for the day and by the end, I felt reenergized and ready to tackle the rest of Kerala, and, unfortunately, the chaos of New Delhi and Agra the next week...
Monday, January 9, 2012
Brotherly Love
Now that my self-imposed holiday from blog writing is over, it is time to get back into the swing of things, at least briefly. I will avoid all the of New Years clichés of writing about my resolutions (of which I don’t have any) or reflecting on the past year because, well, I think pretty much all I do in this blog is reflect so I’ll spare you the worst of it. However, I will discuss one of the biggest events in the month of January for me which will be the arrival of one of my best friends from home and our subsequent trip down to Kerala and to see the Taj Mahal in Agra. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of stories for you in a few weeks time so just sit tight. However, the prospect of someone from the US who has never been to India arriving has given me new perspective on this country I have called my home for six months.
For one, I am disappointed that my friend will not be able to see my school. It is midterm exams now, which means that my effectiveness at school has decreased exponentially and that my students and teachers will be on holiday for the majority of the month of January. It is nice that my holiday will coincide so well with that of my school but this also means that February is completely full. I will be running the spelling bee at my school then, working on constructing our library and raising books for it, trying to start a reading program at my school, and basically sprinting around all month since it is perhaps the last chance for me to make any impact in my school.
So school aside, another thing I am curious to see is my friend’s reaction to the Indian psyche. By now, ambiguous head wobbles, yes’s when people really mean no, staring and interrogation about your life to the point of rudeness and interference are all an accepted part of my reality. I have to say I hold a sort morbid curiosity to see how my friend will confront the challenges of being in India. But at the same time I also feel a bit of protectiveness. Yes, I can complain as much as possible but I’m a “foreign resident.” I live here. Only I can make fun of India.
All that being said though, I do really look forward to the next few weeks. I remember when I was studying abroad in Spain and one of my friends came to visit. At that point, I was fed up with Spanish lateness, their piropos or catcalls in the streets, the way nobody was rushed to do anything, or the way no one was ever concerned. But seeing Spain in the eyes of someone who hadn’t lived there for a few months and who was new to the place made me see it in a new light and really fall in love with the country all over again, the way I had when I first came there. I wonder if the same thing will happen in India.
You see, a person’s feelings towards a country or a culture are like those of one person towards another person. I have come to realize I foster a living, breathing relationship with India as I have with the United States, Ecuador, Spain and Mexico. This relationship changes and matures with time but it is still there. For instance, I picture the United States as I picture my relationship with my family - stable, understanding, always there for me, but I don’t have to physically be around them to know it is there. Ecuador was like my first crush – the first foray into the unknown, feeling acutely the anxiety and the giddiness and immaturity that comes with it. Spain was my first love and one I will always hold dear to my heart. Mexico was a short acquaintance; a friendship with a gregarious person that you just met, at times beautiful and fun, and at others awkward and a bit lonely. Yet finally there is India. My relationship with this country continues to grow and evolve on a daily basis but I have to say it is like an antagonistic brother. You love it because well, you have to. But it can drive you crazy and sometimes you just need space from it or to complain to Mom about it. Yet it will all of the sudden surprise you and remind you why that love is there in the first place. Once you have been here, India is a part of you forever, and not by choice. It just is.
But of course, who better to judge your current relationship situation than the friends who know you best? I can’t wait to see how my own perspective changes over these next few weeks with the benefit of an outsider’s viewpoint. So here’s to a few weeks of adventure, newness, and hopefully, rejuvenation. Stay tuned for the real story.
For one, I am disappointed that my friend will not be able to see my school. It is midterm exams now, which means that my effectiveness at school has decreased exponentially and that my students and teachers will be on holiday for the majority of the month of January. It is nice that my holiday will coincide so well with that of my school but this also means that February is completely full. I will be running the spelling bee at my school then, working on constructing our library and raising books for it, trying to start a reading program at my school, and basically sprinting around all month since it is perhaps the last chance for me to make any impact in my school.
So school aside, another thing I am curious to see is my friend’s reaction to the Indian psyche. By now, ambiguous head wobbles, yes’s when people really mean no, staring and interrogation about your life to the point of rudeness and interference are all an accepted part of my reality. I have to say I hold a sort morbid curiosity to see how my friend will confront the challenges of being in India. But at the same time I also feel a bit of protectiveness. Yes, I can complain as much as possible but I’m a “foreign resident.” I live here. Only I can make fun of India.
All that being said though, I do really look forward to the next few weeks. I remember when I was studying abroad in Spain and one of my friends came to visit. At that point, I was fed up with Spanish lateness, their piropos or catcalls in the streets, the way nobody was rushed to do anything, or the way no one was ever concerned. But seeing Spain in the eyes of someone who hadn’t lived there for a few months and who was new to the place made me see it in a new light and really fall in love with the country all over again, the way I had when I first came there. I wonder if the same thing will happen in India.
You see, a person’s feelings towards a country or a culture are like those of one person towards another person. I have come to realize I foster a living, breathing relationship with India as I have with the United States, Ecuador, Spain and Mexico. This relationship changes and matures with time but it is still there. For instance, I picture the United States as I picture my relationship with my family - stable, understanding, always there for me, but I don’t have to physically be around them to know it is there. Ecuador was like my first crush – the first foray into the unknown, feeling acutely the anxiety and the giddiness and immaturity that comes with it. Spain was my first love and one I will always hold dear to my heart. Mexico was a short acquaintance; a friendship with a gregarious person that you just met, at times beautiful and fun, and at others awkward and a bit lonely. Yet finally there is India. My relationship with this country continues to grow and evolve on a daily basis but I have to say it is like an antagonistic brother. You love it because well, you have to. But it can drive you crazy and sometimes you just need space from it or to complain to Mom about it. Yet it will all of the sudden surprise you and remind you why that love is there in the first place. Once you have been here, India is a part of you forever, and not by choice. It just is.
But of course, who better to judge your current relationship situation than the friends who know you best? I can’t wait to see how my own perspective changes over these next few weeks with the benefit of an outsider’s viewpoint. So here’s to a few weeks of adventure, newness, and hopefully, rejuvenation. Stay tuned for the real story.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
All I want for Christmas...
Enjoy your Indian “Christmas.” The quotations are not my own but rather those of a friend of mine in a recent Facebook message. I have to agree with that. After all, celebrating Christmas in India is kind of like someone in the US telling you about their pilgrimage to Mecca. We’re all familiar with it, understand it’s a big deal, but don’t quite get the details or the whole picture. In fact, I’ve had Muslim and Hindu students ask me if Santa Claus is actually a real figure that only distributes gifts to American children. I wasn’t sure if I should keep the mystery alive but decided I would just confuse them so I spilled the beans. First time I’ve seen a child told there is no Santa Claus and I haven’t seen them cry.
Anyway, this doesn’t mean that it is impossible to find Christmas here. Alongside of the palm trees and the ever present sunshine (like all Oregonians, I reveled in this for about a week before assimilating to the Indian preference to avoid the sun whenever possible) there are pockets of evergreen. I mean, a small, fake Christmas tree must count, right? And of course most bakeries in town have Santa cut outs in the window and a few of the western-style coffee houses play Christmas carols and offer Christmas cake.
I think that here I should insert a note about Christmas cake. Apparently Christmas cake is a big deal here. All Indians expect me to know how to make it and to offer to make them some myself. I guess this must be a legacy of their British heritage. But they fail to realize Americans aren’t so big on this tradition. I’ve hardly ever eaten Christmas cake before, let alone made it. Something like fruitcake that can possibly survive a nuclear holocaust doesn’t quite appeal to me like a gingerbread house. Yet in India, people travel for miles, regardless of their religious beliefs, to grab a loaf of Christmas cake at Karachi Bakery. They also have never heard of a sugar cookie or a candy cane.
While being home for the holidays is of course atop my list of things I want for Christmas, don’t worry too much. Fist of all, on Christmas Eve day, I am attending a teacher’s picnic at Oceanfront park, wherever and whatever that is… Seeing as we are smack dab in the middle of the country, I’m thinking it can’t be that great. But still, it’s better than being in school. Then, as any good Ex-pat group, we have arranged our own celebration away from home which entails going to a nice classy hotel restaurant and drowning our holiday blues with turkey, all the trimmings, unlimited wine and eggnog. Should make for an interesting IDEX Christmas. Not to mention our haphazard Secret Santa. I can’t wait to see what I get.
But perhaps one of the best Christmas gifts I got was a bit of a reminder of why I’m here. Without waxing too cliché, life is series of ups and downs here. The ups are just as euphoric as the downs are depressing. But one major bright spot in the last few weeks has been the success of my penpal program at school. Shamelessly exploiting my mom’s employment at a local Oregon elementary school means that I have a classroom of fifth graders back home who are exchanging letters with sixth and seventh graders here. We recently received the first batch of letters from the US and the students were so excited. They were pouring over the letters, marveling at the blonde and red hair of most of their penpals, and couldn’t wait to write back. Definitely a major win.
And so, here's my Christmas list this year... hope it makes for good reading:
1. World Peace: Yes the old standby. I've already been cliche so what the hell.
2. A good job that utilizing my skills and passions next year: Be that back in the US or wherever, I'm sure something will turn up.
3. To make the most of my time left in India: I'm already over the halfway point and time is flying by!
4. To never be sick again: Oh India, you've had your fun with me so just leave me alone!
5. A new computer and Iphone for when I get home: Just because I'm in India doesn't mean I've shunned the material world!
6. To figure out who the heck I am/ what I should be doing/ and who I should be doing it with: Job, life... I have no idea what's in store. But if you can't do a little soul searching in India, then where can you?
7. To never take for granted my friends and family again: You don't realize what you have until it's not there anymore.
So I will sign off here and let you all get back to your festive celebrations. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone. I hope that the season finds you well! Peace and love, Jenny.
Anyway, this doesn’t mean that it is impossible to find Christmas here. Alongside of the palm trees and the ever present sunshine (like all Oregonians, I reveled in this for about a week before assimilating to the Indian preference to avoid the sun whenever possible) there are pockets of evergreen. I mean, a small, fake Christmas tree must count, right? And of course most bakeries in town have Santa cut outs in the window and a few of the western-style coffee houses play Christmas carols and offer Christmas cake.
I think that here I should insert a note about Christmas cake. Apparently Christmas cake is a big deal here. All Indians expect me to know how to make it and to offer to make them some myself. I guess this must be a legacy of their British heritage. But they fail to realize Americans aren’t so big on this tradition. I’ve hardly ever eaten Christmas cake before, let alone made it. Something like fruitcake that can possibly survive a nuclear holocaust doesn’t quite appeal to me like a gingerbread house. Yet in India, people travel for miles, regardless of their religious beliefs, to grab a loaf of Christmas cake at Karachi Bakery. They also have never heard of a sugar cookie or a candy cane.
While being home for the holidays is of course atop my list of things I want for Christmas, don’t worry too much. Fist of all, on Christmas Eve day, I am attending a teacher’s picnic at Oceanfront park, wherever and whatever that is… Seeing as we are smack dab in the middle of the country, I’m thinking it can’t be that great. But still, it’s better than being in school. Then, as any good Ex-pat group, we have arranged our own celebration away from home which entails going to a nice classy hotel restaurant and drowning our holiday blues with turkey, all the trimmings, unlimited wine and eggnog. Should make for an interesting IDEX Christmas. Not to mention our haphazard Secret Santa. I can’t wait to see what I get.
But perhaps one of the best Christmas gifts I got was a bit of a reminder of why I’m here. Without waxing too cliché, life is series of ups and downs here. The ups are just as euphoric as the downs are depressing. But one major bright spot in the last few weeks has been the success of my penpal program at school. Shamelessly exploiting my mom’s employment at a local Oregon elementary school means that I have a classroom of fifth graders back home who are exchanging letters with sixth and seventh graders here. We recently received the first batch of letters from the US and the students were so excited. They were pouring over the letters, marveling at the blonde and red hair of most of their penpals, and couldn’t wait to write back. Definitely a major win.
And so, here's my Christmas list this year... hope it makes for good reading:
1. World Peace: Yes the old standby. I've already been cliche so what the hell.
2. A good job that utilizing my skills and passions next year: Be that back in the US or wherever, I'm sure something will turn up.
3. To make the most of my time left in India: I'm already over the halfway point and time is flying by!
4. To never be sick again: Oh India, you've had your fun with me so just leave me alone!
5. A new computer and Iphone for when I get home: Just because I'm in India doesn't mean I've shunned the material world!
6. To figure out who the heck I am/ what I should be doing/ and who I should be doing it with: Job, life... I have no idea what's in store. But if you can't do a little soul searching in India, then where can you?
7. To never take for granted my friends and family again: You don't realize what you have until it's not there anymore.
So I will sign off here and let you all get back to your festive celebrations. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone. I hope that the season finds you well! Peace and love, Jenny.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Ridin' Solo
The public bus never really gets the attention it deserves. I mean, how often do you think about it other than “thank God I have my car and I’m not that sucker waiting for a bus out in the rain.” Well in India, as with most things, transportation takes on a life of its own. I’m not going to brag about my ability to barter with auto drivers or the skills I now have in jumping on and off a moving bus or riding one-handed on the back of a scooter. But I am going to talk about what it is like to travel around, day in and day out, in Hyderabad, and most importantly, what it is like on a public bus.
Half of my Indian friends are still completely floored by the idea of me and my American friends actually getting on these things. I mean, they grew up with drivers and have been driving themselves around town just like the rest of us have been since we were teenagers (okay well I never had a driver but you get the picture). They have not even stepped onto a bus themselves. But when they cost about twenty cents to use, don’t require any bargaining, and you more or less know where they will go, it is kind of hard to say no. Although sometimes I wish I did. You see, there is something interesting about the bus system here in the city. It is that buses are as diverse as their drivers, and run the gauntlet from a clunker with a literal hole in the floorboard (yes on a recent trip I had to straddle said hole and hope it wouldn’t get bigger) to the bus I just took to this coffee shop which had air conditioning and a TV screen playing music videos. And it only cost three rupees more. The catch is as you wait at any given bus stop you never know what you will get, or really how crowded it will be.
Getting onto and off of the bus is an art form in itself. Most routes have stops that are marked or if not marked, at least visible by the amount of people congregating to get on them. But the real fun begins when the bus stops. For if you are getting on the bus, you are being pushed by the people behind you who also want to get on, at the same time you are being forced back by the people getting off the bus. I generally just wait until the last possible moment in back and then jump on as it starts to move. Saves my backpack from being squashed in the melee. On the flip side, if you want to get off the bus, you had better force your way through the women to the front and push them, poke them, yell at them, or do whatever, to ensure that you get off in time. It can be a long way between stops.
The bus ticket collector is also an anomaly. They wander up and down the aisle, often tapping, whistling and even pulling braids to get your attention so you can pay the fare. Sometimes if you don’t have change and they don’t have change they will hold up a finger, say “ek moment,” and twenty minutes later, assuming you haven’t already gotten off of the bus, voila, you have your change. They also have an uncanny knack of remembering exactly what stop you paid for, making sure you get off at that stop or else. I may not understand Telugu but I do get it when I am no longer welcome. On really crowded buses I have seen them hanging off the stairs, jumping out to allow passengers on and off and then running and jumping back onto the tiny bottom rung without missing a beat. It takes a certain breed of person to excel at this obviously and I have to admire their stamina and good sense of balance. Walking up and down a moving bus all day yelling at people has to get old.
Drivers tend to be in their own world, sitting up front, shifting with one hand while talking on their cell phone with the other. Shoes are optional as is any peripheral vision. I once was on a bus that somehow managed to be missing all the glass from the windows on the left side which happened to be where I was sitting. It was like riding in a half-convertible bus. Which was nice and breezy and fine until the driver veered left into a group of low-hanging trees. If I hadn’t ducked, I don’t think I would be writing a blog about buses after all.
Buses are not for foreigners. Oh no. I have realized that the reason why I never see foreigners walking on the streets but I see them in restaurants and in bars is because they don’t stoop to public transportation. But if you can get over the stares and learn which end of the bus you belong (men in back, women in front), it is really easy. My friends and I had a laugh the other day when our flatmate, who has taken the same bus to school and back every day for five months and never seen a non-Indian on board, watched a foreign couple get on her bus. And she stared just like everyone else did. I mean, you start to feel possessive about things here and your local bus definitely figures high onto that list. You are the token foreigner on that route thank you very much. You alone know the ins and outs of public transportation in Hyderabad. And you’ll be damned if someone else figures it out.
Half of my Indian friends are still completely floored by the idea of me and my American friends actually getting on these things. I mean, they grew up with drivers and have been driving themselves around town just like the rest of us have been since we were teenagers (okay well I never had a driver but you get the picture). They have not even stepped onto a bus themselves. But when they cost about twenty cents to use, don’t require any bargaining, and you more or less know where they will go, it is kind of hard to say no. Although sometimes I wish I did. You see, there is something interesting about the bus system here in the city. It is that buses are as diverse as their drivers, and run the gauntlet from a clunker with a literal hole in the floorboard (yes on a recent trip I had to straddle said hole and hope it wouldn’t get bigger) to the bus I just took to this coffee shop which had air conditioning and a TV screen playing music videos. And it only cost three rupees more. The catch is as you wait at any given bus stop you never know what you will get, or really how crowded it will be.
Getting onto and off of the bus is an art form in itself. Most routes have stops that are marked or if not marked, at least visible by the amount of people congregating to get on them. But the real fun begins when the bus stops. For if you are getting on the bus, you are being pushed by the people behind you who also want to get on, at the same time you are being forced back by the people getting off the bus. I generally just wait until the last possible moment in back and then jump on as it starts to move. Saves my backpack from being squashed in the melee. On the flip side, if you want to get off the bus, you had better force your way through the women to the front and push them, poke them, yell at them, or do whatever, to ensure that you get off in time. It can be a long way between stops.
The bus ticket collector is also an anomaly. They wander up and down the aisle, often tapping, whistling and even pulling braids to get your attention so you can pay the fare. Sometimes if you don’t have change and they don’t have change they will hold up a finger, say “ek moment,” and twenty minutes later, assuming you haven’t already gotten off of the bus, voila, you have your change. They also have an uncanny knack of remembering exactly what stop you paid for, making sure you get off at that stop or else. I may not understand Telugu but I do get it when I am no longer welcome. On really crowded buses I have seen them hanging off the stairs, jumping out to allow passengers on and off and then running and jumping back onto the tiny bottom rung without missing a beat. It takes a certain breed of person to excel at this obviously and I have to admire their stamina and good sense of balance. Walking up and down a moving bus all day yelling at people has to get old.
Drivers tend to be in their own world, sitting up front, shifting with one hand while talking on their cell phone with the other. Shoes are optional as is any peripheral vision. I once was on a bus that somehow managed to be missing all the glass from the windows on the left side which happened to be where I was sitting. It was like riding in a half-convertible bus. Which was nice and breezy and fine until the driver veered left into a group of low-hanging trees. If I hadn’t ducked, I don’t think I would be writing a blog about buses after all.
Buses are not for foreigners. Oh no. I have realized that the reason why I never see foreigners walking on the streets but I see them in restaurants and in bars is because they don’t stoop to public transportation. But if you can get over the stares and learn which end of the bus you belong (men in back, women in front), it is really easy. My friends and I had a laugh the other day when our flatmate, who has taken the same bus to school and back every day for five months and never seen a non-Indian on board, watched a foreign couple get on her bus. And she stared just like everyone else did. I mean, you start to feel possessive about things here and your local bus definitely figures high onto that list. You are the token foreigner on that route thank you very much. You alone know the ins and outs of public transportation in Hyderabad. And you’ll be damned if someone else figures it out.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Almighty Rupee
Working in the hybrid non-profit/ social business sphere, the dollar (well rupee I should say) is not exactly the motivating factor behind my choice of profession. Hopefully that much is obvious since the stipend I receive here reminds me of how good I had it at my part-time internship last year. Yet it is still a frustrating part of the job. Because, well, if I had unlimited funding, I could do whatever I want in my school and I could also travel, explore, and eat as much amazing food as my heart desires. And I wouldn’t have to waste precious energy worrying about how much I exceed my budget each month because, well, that budget would be a lot bigger. Yet I do have to remind myself that I am doing much better than the average person in India, so my own sob story about money stops here. This is about India’s money.
So back to the “average person” in India. As everyone is aware, India has one of the highest income discrepancies in the world (sadly the US isn’t doing that much better) with 42% of the population making less than $1.25 a day. And although the per capita GDP has skyrocketed to over $3500 per year from about $800 20 years ago, it is important to keep in mind that income inequality has also doubled in twenty years and that this is the average GDP, out of over a billion people. Suffice it to say there are plenty of people making much much less. In fact, the average teacher at my school makes a little over $30-$40 A MONTH. Yes, that’s right, a month. For working six days a week, all day. And yes, things are less expensive here than they are in the west but only marginally so. A liter of milk will still set you back a dollar or so in most convenience stores. In fact, inflation is at a high in India right now, devaluing the rupee and increasing the cost of living.
What am I getting at in this blog then? Well it’s a case of perspective. A case of my reminding myself that I may be hemorrhaging my money on dining out or trips but that I am still able to drop $15 on a nice dinner while this is close to half of most people’s monthly income. The story of poverty in India as I see it is a case of mixed outcomes. The economy grows, the middle class grows, people buy their smartphones and their designer jeans that are at least the same cost, if not more expensive, than those in the United States. But an extraordinary number of people remain left behind. One Australian consultant here shared the staggering statistic with me that there are more people living below the poverty line in only four states in India than the population of ALL of sub-saharan Africa. This is a very sobering thought.
When I said I was coming to India, people were very jealous. After all, we do see the India of stark poverty, on news reports and documentaries, and we can forget the incredible amount of wealth here. But we also see the Bollywood movies where everything is colorful, everyone is happy, and the star couple ends up together, smiling, at the end. So we equate this with a joy for living in India. We say that Indians have it right, valuing family first and being happy with what they have. Unfortunately, the feeling I have picked up most here was aptly described by my friend the other day. It is angst. Angst for something better and something more. Life is incredibly hard here. The day to day monotony overwhelmed by circumstance and hardship. Many people are not happy with what they have but they do not know any differently and feel they cannot change their situation.
And in my current profession, this feeling and these statistics are what keeps us going; the driving force behind social entrepreneurship. History shows that throwing money at the situation is not an answer. Instead people must have ownership in these initiatives to ensure sustainability and the continued success of poverty alleviation programs. That’s what social entrepreneurship and development programs like microfinance are all about. But what I am hoping as well is that India takes a stake in its own development. Before everyone jumps down my throat, I realize this seems hypocritical coming from a citizen of a country which blindly turns an eye to most of its own poor. And I also want to insert a caveat here that I have met an extraordinary amount of Indians who are concerned about the poor, who do support various causes, and who give what they can. Nevertheless, government initiatives to support development are mostly half-hearted, corrupt and do just throw money at the problem. As the recent case of the government shut-down of microfinance in Andhra Pradesh shows, the government is just as interested in making a buck as everyone else and the end result is it undermines the very programs that can help it to succeed.
But the problem, at least from what I have seen here is not a lack of money but a case of where the money is going, which is true in almost all developing countries where it is hidden away. Yet in India this misuse of funds is an open secret. And that has transferred to the individual. What takes precedence is a consumerism to rival that of any American Walmart and a hunt for the one item that will convey status. In India, caste status has given way to economic status. It is a matter of pride, and being confused with someone from the next lower strata is a hurt that one would rather not bear. We from the west know this story well as we participated in it ourselves and continue to. And look where it got us. So, India, learn from our mistakes. There is no massive, easy solution to crippling income disparity or massive levels of poverty. But irresponsible growth isn’t the answer either. You see it every day here – new construction replacing a former makeshift homeless camp, most certainly fueled by bribes to oversight committees and government officials in amounts that would feed and clothe these same homeless for months.
From what I can see, the story of India is a story of money. But money not necessarily well-spent. And it’s complicated. More complicated than I can understand and based on policies and practices that are part of the Indian identity. Yet if India is the country of the future (and I assure you, it most definitely is), it can only succeed by lifting those up who are left behind. The money is there. It’s just not in the right place
So back to the “average person” in India. As everyone is aware, India has one of the highest income discrepancies in the world (sadly the US isn’t doing that much better) with 42% of the population making less than $1.25 a day. And although the per capita GDP has skyrocketed to over $3500 per year from about $800 20 years ago, it is important to keep in mind that income inequality has also doubled in twenty years and that this is the average GDP, out of over a billion people. Suffice it to say there are plenty of people making much much less. In fact, the average teacher at my school makes a little over $30-$40 A MONTH. Yes, that’s right, a month. For working six days a week, all day. And yes, things are less expensive here than they are in the west but only marginally so. A liter of milk will still set you back a dollar or so in most convenience stores. In fact, inflation is at a high in India right now, devaluing the rupee and increasing the cost of living.
What am I getting at in this blog then? Well it’s a case of perspective. A case of my reminding myself that I may be hemorrhaging my money on dining out or trips but that I am still able to drop $15 on a nice dinner while this is close to half of most people’s monthly income. The story of poverty in India as I see it is a case of mixed outcomes. The economy grows, the middle class grows, people buy their smartphones and their designer jeans that are at least the same cost, if not more expensive, than those in the United States. But an extraordinary number of people remain left behind. One Australian consultant here shared the staggering statistic with me that there are more people living below the poverty line in only four states in India than the population of ALL of sub-saharan Africa. This is a very sobering thought.
When I said I was coming to India, people were very jealous. After all, we do see the India of stark poverty, on news reports and documentaries, and we can forget the incredible amount of wealth here. But we also see the Bollywood movies where everything is colorful, everyone is happy, and the star couple ends up together, smiling, at the end. So we equate this with a joy for living in India. We say that Indians have it right, valuing family first and being happy with what they have. Unfortunately, the feeling I have picked up most here was aptly described by my friend the other day. It is angst. Angst for something better and something more. Life is incredibly hard here. The day to day monotony overwhelmed by circumstance and hardship. Many people are not happy with what they have but they do not know any differently and feel they cannot change their situation.
And in my current profession, this feeling and these statistics are what keeps us going; the driving force behind social entrepreneurship. History shows that throwing money at the situation is not an answer. Instead people must have ownership in these initiatives to ensure sustainability and the continued success of poverty alleviation programs. That’s what social entrepreneurship and development programs like microfinance are all about. But what I am hoping as well is that India takes a stake in its own development. Before everyone jumps down my throat, I realize this seems hypocritical coming from a citizen of a country which blindly turns an eye to most of its own poor. And I also want to insert a caveat here that I have met an extraordinary amount of Indians who are concerned about the poor, who do support various causes, and who give what they can. Nevertheless, government initiatives to support development are mostly half-hearted, corrupt and do just throw money at the problem. As the recent case of the government shut-down of microfinance in Andhra Pradesh shows, the government is just as interested in making a buck as everyone else and the end result is it undermines the very programs that can help it to succeed.
But the problem, at least from what I have seen here is not a lack of money but a case of where the money is going, which is true in almost all developing countries where it is hidden away. Yet in India this misuse of funds is an open secret. And that has transferred to the individual. What takes precedence is a consumerism to rival that of any American Walmart and a hunt for the one item that will convey status. In India, caste status has given way to economic status. It is a matter of pride, and being confused with someone from the next lower strata is a hurt that one would rather not bear. We from the west know this story well as we participated in it ourselves and continue to. And look where it got us. So, India, learn from our mistakes. There is no massive, easy solution to crippling income disparity or massive levels of poverty. But irresponsible growth isn’t the answer either. You see it every day here – new construction replacing a former makeshift homeless camp, most certainly fueled by bribes to oversight committees and government officials in amounts that would feed and clothe these same homeless for months.
From what I can see, the story of India is a story of money. But money not necessarily well-spent. And it’s complicated. More complicated than I can understand and based on policies and practices that are part of the Indian identity. Yet if India is the country of the future (and I assure you, it most definitely is), it can only succeed by lifting those up who are left behind. The money is there. It’s just not in the right place
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Marriage on My Mind
Allow me to preface this with two disclaimers right from the start. 1) I stole this blog idea from my flatmate after having a discussion about this very topic. And 2) Don't worry, this blog isn't about MY personal life.
Well now that the air is cleared I can begin. It's wedding season in Hyderabad. Which means not a day goes by without lucky households being decorated in strings of lights, a well-dressed man riding down the street on a white horse (believe me, I've actually seen this), or one invitation to an obscure relative's wedding from a school teacher, school teacher's sister, or school teacher's neighbor's best friend's brother. And whether the wedding is Muslim, Hindu or Christian, there seems to be a certain level of prestige from having a foreigner you may not even personally know come to your wedding.
With this in mind, last Friday I attended my first wedding celebration, accompanying two of my flatmates. Yes the invitation was for the sister's wedding of my flatmate's teacher who I had never met. But no matter. As we'd say here in Hyderabadi English, "wedding invitation is there." So we saree'd up, quite literally, and hopped into an autorickshaw to a promising sounding function hall called "Officer's Mess." Hmmmm. Anyway, we arrived a full hour later than we were advised to, which is to say at 9PM because all weddings take place late in the evening here. And of course, in true Indian fashion, no one was there. Like the servers literally had to turn on the lights and fan for the three of us on the women's side. Whoops, that reminds me. Since it was a Muslim wedding, men and women sat on separate sides of the divider and didn't actually see each other. But that's kind of the point. Because it enables the women to take off their burqas and the fashion show really begins. You see,you'd be surprised by what women wear under their burqas, and how much detail goes into these outfits. For the wedding alone, the teacher from my friend's school dropped 18,000 rupees (roughly $360, or more than 9 times her monthly income give or take a few hundred rupees) and suffered under 30 pounds of embroidery and sequins for her outfit. And everyone was dressed in their best. I was starting to be very happy indeed I had finally gone out and purchased a saree except now I just want a nicer and more expensive one. Just because I'm foreign doesn't mean I don't care...
Eventually the bride showed up and we were ushered into the dining hall for women, where we were bombarded with pounds of food. And since it was a Muslim wedding, there was meat of all types! The prevalence of a Muslim population and their fondness for some good chicken is definitely one of the perks of living in Hyderabad. So we stuffed ourselves happily while chatting with the bride's family and friends, only to realize the bride herself wouldn't eat until around 3AM after all the other guests had eaten. Then we were pushed up on stage to sit with the bride and her family and take pictures. And of course to watch everyone else watching us. We spoke a bit with the bride, who was dressed in a beautiful emerald bride's skirt and top, henna decorating her hands, and jewelery that must have weighed more than she did. She said she was happy and excited but she looked a bit scared. Which brings me to my main point: the topic of arranged marriage.
When foreigners think of India, arranged marriages are usually one of the topics of discussion that spring to mind. How backward can a country be?, we often think. Or, how could any family force their daughters or sons into this? Well, here's the thing. I've always been one of those people who has been appalled by the idea as well. In fact, even now, the very idea of an arranged marriage for myself sends shivers down my spine. But, like most else about this country, you can't paint it with such a fine brush. Life is colored many more shades of gray here than most people realize. So here goes my attempt to explain some of the rationale behind arranged marriages here. Feel free to add in your own two cents worth.
As I've already written, one of my good friends here will most likely have an arranged marriage. But it's more like an arranged dating service, with parents picking out someone, the pair meeting up, then deciding if they want to keep seeing each other and going from there, or deciding to not proceed. Fair enough. Not much different than having your parents say "have you met so-and-so's son? He would be just your type..." However, this is from a rather progressive family. On the other hand, there are marriages where the partners don't really get a chance to meet each other beforehand. Or there are the ones where partners meet in supervised situations and both the potential bride and groom are asked their opinions before the marriage takes place. And there are arrangements of all types in between. Bear in mind too that even for the most westernized families here, the perfect age for marriage is in the early to mid-twenties.
In a culture where tradition has such deep roots, there are many men and women who do not have the opportunity to interact with one another quite so readily as we do. I'm not describing my Indian friends of course who mingle just like any of my American friends do. But I am describing the teachers at my school, the students, and the average person working and living throughout the city. If you're a good, traditional girl from a respectable Muslim or Hindu family, you don't really have many male friends and your dating pool remains small or nonexistent. An arranged marriage is really your only option and you've grown up trusting that your parents can make the right choice for you. Respecting your elders and your family is paramount to Indian society. And also in a country where men outnumber the women, arranged marriages are a means to perserve some order while people are competing for scarce resources. In fact, one businessman here once told us that the best way to frame Indian cultural behavior is by putting it in terms of the centuries of competition its members have faced: for food,land and water initially, and now, for women, train tickets, and autorickshaws.
I'm not anywhere near sold on the arranged marriage idea although I have met a fair share of people who claim true love and great marriages have come of it. However, these same people will cite low divorce rates in India to which I respond that divorce is much more of a taboo here and much more difficult although not unheard of (my schoolowner herself is divorced). And if you read the newspapers here you will see articles every day about a couple committing suicide because their parents won't agree on a marriage. While I couldn't help but feel a bit solemn at the wedding I went to, where the bride was my age and had probably never spent more than a night away from her family in her life, at least I could appreciate some of the sentiment behind it.
Moral of the story? Don't expect me to be looking for an arranged marriage any time soon, but don't expect me to condemn it in no uncertain terms. The most definitive opinion I can present? Ain't no party like an Indian wedding party....
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Turkeying Around
This week I am going to at least attempt to avoid the cliché of blogging about all that I am thankful for. Because truth be told, I have already done that on Facebook. And while I have a lot to be thankful for, at the moment, I am also struggling with not being with my family and friends to celebrate Thanksgiving weekend. Suffice it to say I am certainly NOT thankful for the price of airline tickets or the low number of vacation days I receive here. Going home at all in November or December is unfortunately not an option.
Therefore, I am left to ponder the anomaly of Thanksgiving from an Indian perspective. Trying to explain the holiday to my schoolchildren or the school’s principal has made me realize how crazy of a holiday it is. I mean, for one, there is no religion involved at all, but it is quite different from other national holidays that correspond with an exact event. And the irony, oh the irony. While I was giving a brief background on the pilgrims and Native Americans feasting together, Madam Lohia asked why we celebrate if we just ended up killing all of the Native Americans after such a “peaceful feast.” Yeah. We try to ignore that bit. So then I went on to say how it is really about recognizing the good things you have in your life and exercising gratitude for them. Now this is something most Indians can relate to. I mean, being super family-oriented is a way of life here as is a culture of consumption eerily similar to ours. A person may not be that well-off but they’ll be damned if they don’t have the newest smart phone and take every opportunity to show it off. Of course, I explained that it’s mostly not about material things but non-material things. To which the response was “shouldn’t you be thankful for these every day? Why just one day?”
At this point, I was feeling a little less than enthused about one of my favorite days of the year. It felt kind of like someone pointing out all the grammar mistakes in your just completed thesis or outlining all the reasons why eating cookies can be hazardous for your health. And it was then that I realized, who cares? I mean, there are plenty of holidays and traditions around the world that don’t seem to make much sense at all, especially to the uninitiated. I mean I just saw thousands of elephant god statues submerged in water one month, and the next, families that happily buy their meat from the grocery store 364 days a year were slitting the throats of goats in their front yards. And I mean, think of the running of the bulls in Spain, or, my personal favorite, the Wife-Carrying Festival in Europe. While I am not exactly comparing Thanksgiving to an event where burly beer-bellied men sling their wives over their shoulders and race through mud, I am saying that I don’t get the nuances because I’m observing from the outside, yet that doesn’t make it any less special to the people participating. Besides, Thanksgiving really exists as an excuse to take a breather, be around the people who matter the most to you, and just enjoy the good things in life, for a day. I mean, yes, Christmas is great too, but there’s so much pressure around buying presents, so much commercialization, and maybe not so much gratitude involved.
However, don’t feel too sorry for me, stuck in some far-flung country where Thanksgiving is little more than two unrelated words strung together in most people’s 2nd or 3rd language. Through some connections and the relatively small Ex-pat community here, we will be celebrating Thanksgiving as best we can. This translates into cooking three turkeys (one of which we are attempting to fry – I guess a product of putting ten 20something males in charge of the turkey preparation) and we will have stuffing, pies (I’m praying for pumpkin), potatoes and other necessities. All of this will be cooked in the comfort of the home of one of the Foreign Service Officers we have met here. And football or holiday movies have been promised. I do have to say this is a step up from spending my Thanksgiving in Spain aimlessly wandering the streets for pumpkin pie, but then again, we did have delicious wine and tapas to eat instead. And while the IDEX family is definitely a step up from celebrating with no one, it’s most certainly not my family. Nor will it be my Mom’s stuffing recipe or gravy being used. But permit me the corniness of at least saying I am thankful to have IDEX here and for our large piecemeal celebration, in 85 degree sunshine, deep in the heart of India. Yes it would be 100 times better to be with my family but if being abroad has taught me anything, it’s that you make do with what you have and you create what you don’t. And that’s incredibly rewarding.
Therefore, I am left to ponder the anomaly of Thanksgiving from an Indian perspective. Trying to explain the holiday to my schoolchildren or the school’s principal has made me realize how crazy of a holiday it is. I mean, for one, there is no religion involved at all, but it is quite different from other national holidays that correspond with an exact event. And the irony, oh the irony. While I was giving a brief background on the pilgrims and Native Americans feasting together, Madam Lohia asked why we celebrate if we just ended up killing all of the Native Americans after such a “peaceful feast.” Yeah. We try to ignore that bit. So then I went on to say how it is really about recognizing the good things you have in your life and exercising gratitude for them. Now this is something most Indians can relate to. I mean, being super family-oriented is a way of life here as is a culture of consumption eerily similar to ours. A person may not be that well-off but they’ll be damned if they don’t have the newest smart phone and take every opportunity to show it off. Of course, I explained that it’s mostly not about material things but non-material things. To which the response was “shouldn’t you be thankful for these every day? Why just one day?”
At this point, I was feeling a little less than enthused about one of my favorite days of the year. It felt kind of like someone pointing out all the grammar mistakes in your just completed thesis or outlining all the reasons why eating cookies can be hazardous for your health. And it was then that I realized, who cares? I mean, there are plenty of holidays and traditions around the world that don’t seem to make much sense at all, especially to the uninitiated. I mean I just saw thousands of elephant god statues submerged in water one month, and the next, families that happily buy their meat from the grocery store 364 days a year were slitting the throats of goats in their front yards. And I mean, think of the running of the bulls in Spain, or, my personal favorite, the Wife-Carrying Festival in Europe. While I am not exactly comparing Thanksgiving to an event where burly beer-bellied men sling their wives over their shoulders and race through mud, I am saying that I don’t get the nuances because I’m observing from the outside, yet that doesn’t make it any less special to the people participating. Besides, Thanksgiving really exists as an excuse to take a breather, be around the people who matter the most to you, and just enjoy the good things in life, for a day. I mean, yes, Christmas is great too, but there’s so much pressure around buying presents, so much commercialization, and maybe not so much gratitude involved.
However, don’t feel too sorry for me, stuck in some far-flung country where Thanksgiving is little more than two unrelated words strung together in most people’s 2nd or 3rd language. Through some connections and the relatively small Ex-pat community here, we will be celebrating Thanksgiving as best we can. This translates into cooking three turkeys (one of which we are attempting to fry – I guess a product of putting ten 20something males in charge of the turkey preparation) and we will have stuffing, pies (I’m praying for pumpkin), potatoes and other necessities. All of this will be cooked in the comfort of the home of one of the Foreign Service Officers we have met here. And football or holiday movies have been promised. I do have to say this is a step up from spending my Thanksgiving in Spain aimlessly wandering the streets for pumpkin pie, but then again, we did have delicious wine and tapas to eat instead. And while the IDEX family is definitely a step up from celebrating with no one, it’s most certainly not my family. Nor will it be my Mom’s stuffing recipe or gravy being used. But permit me the corniness of at least saying I am thankful to have IDEX here and for our large piecemeal celebration, in 85 degree sunshine, deep in the heart of India. Yes it would be 100 times better to be with my family but if being abroad has taught me anything, it’s that you make do with what you have and you create what you don’t. And that’s incredibly rewarding.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Revival
Hopefully, by now dear readers, you realize that there really is not a theme for this blog, other than to the extent that I write what is on my mind. So it comes as no surprise that this post is a bit of a jump from the last one. Living in India has brought to the forefront many things that are important to me but it has also pushed a few things to the wayside. And this week has presented several opportunities to remind me of these.
One of these was our tour of Hyderabad's CIIGBC building, the first LEED certified platinum green building outside of the United States. For the unintiated, LEED certification stands for Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design and platinum is the highest rating a building can achieve. In fact, it was such a big deal that the building was inaugurated by the Indian President in 2003 and received a visit from President Bill Clinton. But I digress. We took a tour of this building, which has carbon sensored air conditioning units to track the number of people in the building and adjust the cooling unit accordingly. The roof of the building is also completely covered in grass and plants, and somehow, through a fancy feat of engineering I don't understand, it takes the hot water that drains from the roof and uses the extreme heat of the roof to make the water extremely cold and to help cool the building as well. Plus the carpet comes from recycled coke cans, the toilet is ammonia elimnating so the "water" can be reused, the chairs are made of wood waste, the windows are double-paned with an inert gas to facilitate temperature control and lots of other cool stuff.
The tour made me realize how much I had forgotten about environmental considerations here. I mean, people literally through their trash out the windows of their cars while driving, recycling bottles and other plastics is unheard of, and nighttime "clean up crews" are a joke. I used to care about doing my part but here I've been sucked into a culture of waste for the sake of convenience. I mean, it's way more convenient to just throw my Subway wrapper out the car window than to actually take it to a trash can, and it's allowed. But it's attitudes like this that also scare me a bit. For a country that will soon have the largest population in the world to take such a haphazard attitude towards the environment doesn't seem to bode well for the future. Of course, we Americans are horribly wasteful in our consumption but at least most of us have been trained well to turn off lights when we're not in a room or use the trash can and recycle bottles. So, here's my pledge to try to return to this. For now, India is my adoptive country and I can't help but feel a bit responsible for taking care of it any way I can. And my guilty conscience is starting to weigh on me.
The second thing that happened this week is that we were invited to a dinner at the US Consul General's house. As many of you know, I had foreign service aspirations, going so far as to take the FSOT before this IDEX opportunity presented itself. Being surrounded by Americans who were doing what I had considered my dream job was refreshing. While some were young and on their first post (apparently Hyderabad is considered a 20/30 on hardship postings; Lagos in Nigeria is 25. I wish I would get hardship pay here!), others, including the Consul General, had been all over the world. And all love their jobs. While you have to pay your dues at the beginning, working on visa applications, there is a huge opportunity for advancement and honestly, the perks aren't half bad. Of course, I did ask about the worst part of the job and the answers were inevitably similar to any other employees of the government, but these seemed small in comparison to the benefits.
I left the house determined to take the test again and try my hand at the State Department if possible. I mean, I passed it last time so how hard can a second time be? Let's hope I just didn't jinx myself. I also have realized that I feel a bit more positive towards the possible opportunity to stay and work in India next year as well. And at least now I am feeling much more in tune with myself again. It's been a hard four months and I've had to confront personal and professional challenges that I've never experienced before. But now it's time to take a breath and really start to do things for myself and my personal growth too and return to what is important to me. No more getting lost in my busy schedule or the job. And with that, time to go plan what side dishes to bring to our Thanksgiving feast for next week. Happy Turkey Day in advance!
One of these was our tour of Hyderabad's CIIGBC building, the first LEED certified platinum green building outside of the United States. For the unintiated, LEED certification stands for Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design and platinum is the highest rating a building can achieve. In fact, it was such a big deal that the building was inaugurated by the Indian President in 2003 and received a visit from President Bill Clinton. But I digress. We took a tour of this building, which has carbon sensored air conditioning units to track the number of people in the building and adjust the cooling unit accordingly. The roof of the building is also completely covered in grass and plants, and somehow, through a fancy feat of engineering I don't understand, it takes the hot water that drains from the roof and uses the extreme heat of the roof to make the water extremely cold and to help cool the building as well. Plus the carpet comes from recycled coke cans, the toilet is ammonia elimnating so the "water" can be reused, the chairs are made of wood waste, the windows are double-paned with an inert gas to facilitate temperature control and lots of other cool stuff.
The tour made me realize how much I had forgotten about environmental considerations here. I mean, people literally through their trash out the windows of their cars while driving, recycling bottles and other plastics is unheard of, and nighttime "clean up crews" are a joke. I used to care about doing my part but here I've been sucked into a culture of waste for the sake of convenience. I mean, it's way more convenient to just throw my Subway wrapper out the car window than to actually take it to a trash can, and it's allowed. But it's attitudes like this that also scare me a bit. For a country that will soon have the largest population in the world to take such a haphazard attitude towards the environment doesn't seem to bode well for the future. Of course, we Americans are horribly wasteful in our consumption but at least most of us have been trained well to turn off lights when we're not in a room or use the trash can and recycle bottles. So, here's my pledge to try to return to this. For now, India is my adoptive country and I can't help but feel a bit responsible for taking care of it any way I can. And my guilty conscience is starting to weigh on me.
The second thing that happened this week is that we were invited to a dinner at the US Consul General's house. As many of you know, I had foreign service aspirations, going so far as to take the FSOT before this IDEX opportunity presented itself. Being surrounded by Americans who were doing what I had considered my dream job was refreshing. While some were young and on their first post (apparently Hyderabad is considered a 20/30 on hardship postings; Lagos in Nigeria is 25. I wish I would get hardship pay here!), others, including the Consul General, had been all over the world. And all love their jobs. While you have to pay your dues at the beginning, working on visa applications, there is a huge opportunity for advancement and honestly, the perks aren't half bad. Of course, I did ask about the worst part of the job and the answers were inevitably similar to any other employees of the government, but these seemed small in comparison to the benefits.
I left the house determined to take the test again and try my hand at the State Department if possible. I mean, I passed it last time so how hard can a second time be? Let's hope I just didn't jinx myself. I also have realized that I feel a bit more positive towards the possible opportunity to stay and work in India next year as well. And at least now I am feeling much more in tune with myself again. It's been a hard four months and I've had to confront personal and professional challenges that I've never experienced before. But now it's time to take a breath and really start to do things for myself and my personal growth too and return to what is important to me. No more getting lost in my busy schedule or the job. And with that, time to go plan what side dishes to bring to our Thanksgiving feast for next week. Happy Turkey Day in advance!
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Doubts
I have a doubt.
In India, people don’t have questions, they have doubts. For instance, in class, a student will say “Miss, I have a doubt about this problem.” And today, I find this phrase much more apropos than what we would say. Question just doesn’t cut it.
You see, I am enjoying the fellowship, I really am. But the other day it dawned on me that I am lacking a bit of the passion in what I do. It is hard to see the impact you are making and while personally I am learning a lot, I am not feeling much like a change agent. Instead, I feel like many people in development must—like a well-intentioned foreigner who really is only scratching the surface of the world’s poverty, economic inequality, and quality of life problems. So what to do?
And then of course there is the doubt about the future. The all-encompassing question of “what are you going to be when you grow up?” I thought I had this figured out. For all intents and purposes I was going to be the next Muhammad Yunus in microfinance or Jeffrey Sachs in academia, both working to bridge the poverty gap. But now I don’t know how to get to that path. And I question if that is even a path or just a combination of luck, happenstance and some foresight on their parts.
So yes, for the next several months I will be working to rediscover that passion. I know it’s there, I just feel like the noise and craziness of life here has coated it over with a bit of dust. So the real doubt becomes, what do I make of my life from here? It is not too early to be asking this question and as the days seem to slip by without me even realizing it, I am beginning to think now is the time to start deciding. I mean, do I stay in India next year and possible help to manage the IDEX program at a city here? Is this where I can see the true impact of what we’re doing and help to sustain and continue it? Or do I stay here and try to work for an NGO or social enterprise to be as hands on as possible, even if the income I make is less than ideal?
Yet staying in India doesn’t mean things will stay the same. The people that are the most important to me here are all leaving for various locations and life paths. And my friends and family back home will be beyond disappointed in not having me around for another year. Despite my homesickness, especially with the upcoming holidays, going home long term seems too soon. If I go home, I know I will not be able to find something that makes me feel like the change practitioner I want to be, assuming I find any job at all. Only so much can be done from sitting behind a cubicle, even if it is a cubicle at a hard-working organization. And I haven’t even breached on the subject of what to do about graduate school.
The thing about living and working here is it is hard. Harder than anything I will probably ever experience. In order to make it here, I get so caught up in the day to day that I forget to take a step back and look at the whole picture. I need to do this more. So now, it remains to be seen where this fellowship and the future will take me but I just hope I find my calling sooner rather than later. Thanks for lending me an ear and for putting up with an introspective blog that probably bores you. I’m open for suggestions/ life advice/ job offers if you feel so inclined. I promise next time there will be some more fun to be read about.
In India, people don’t have questions, they have doubts. For instance, in class, a student will say “Miss, I have a doubt about this problem.” And today, I find this phrase much more apropos than what we would say. Question just doesn’t cut it.
You see, I am enjoying the fellowship, I really am. But the other day it dawned on me that I am lacking a bit of the passion in what I do. It is hard to see the impact you are making and while personally I am learning a lot, I am not feeling much like a change agent. Instead, I feel like many people in development must—like a well-intentioned foreigner who really is only scratching the surface of the world’s poverty, economic inequality, and quality of life problems. So what to do?
And then of course there is the doubt about the future. The all-encompassing question of “what are you going to be when you grow up?” I thought I had this figured out. For all intents and purposes I was going to be the next Muhammad Yunus in microfinance or Jeffrey Sachs in academia, both working to bridge the poverty gap. But now I don’t know how to get to that path. And I question if that is even a path or just a combination of luck, happenstance and some foresight on their parts.
So yes, for the next several months I will be working to rediscover that passion. I know it’s there, I just feel like the noise and craziness of life here has coated it over with a bit of dust. So the real doubt becomes, what do I make of my life from here? It is not too early to be asking this question and as the days seem to slip by without me even realizing it, I am beginning to think now is the time to start deciding. I mean, do I stay in India next year and possible help to manage the IDEX program at a city here? Is this where I can see the true impact of what we’re doing and help to sustain and continue it? Or do I stay here and try to work for an NGO or social enterprise to be as hands on as possible, even if the income I make is less than ideal?
Yet staying in India doesn’t mean things will stay the same. The people that are the most important to me here are all leaving for various locations and life paths. And my friends and family back home will be beyond disappointed in not having me around for another year. Despite my homesickness, especially with the upcoming holidays, going home long term seems too soon. If I go home, I know I will not be able to find something that makes me feel like the change practitioner I want to be, assuming I find any job at all. Only so much can be done from sitting behind a cubicle, even if it is a cubicle at a hard-working organization. And I haven’t even breached on the subject of what to do about graduate school.
The thing about living and working here is it is hard. Harder than anything I will probably ever experience. In order to make it here, I get so caught up in the day to day that I forget to take a step back and look at the whole picture. I need to do this more. So now, it remains to be seen where this fellowship and the future will take me but I just hope I find my calling sooner rather than later. Thanks for lending me an ear and for putting up with an introspective blog that probably bores you. I’m open for suggestions/ life advice/ job offers if you feel so inclined. I promise next time there will be some more fun to be read about.
Monday, October 31, 2011
A Love/ Hate Relationship
This post was supposed to be about the holiday Diwali and how cool all the lights were up around the city and in people's houses, and how crazily loud all the fireworks going off were. And there were to be lush descriptions of the food and sweets involved. But like all plans I have ever made here, India has a way of sneaking in and foiling them, either with a stealth attack or a big bang. Or in my case, a fever.
So there I was on Diwali, with a temperature of 102, feeling sorry for myself as all sick people seem to, and running all the possible outcomes of my illness through my mind. I mean, on the one hand, I could die. And when you're living in a developing country known for its tropical diseases, that doesn't seem like such a distant possibility. Or I could have to get shipped back to the US. Now this thought was interesting... and presented me with some conflicted emotions. I mean I'm at that point of being abroad where I'm getting homesick. It's fall in Oregon right now, the leaves are changing, there's that nip in the air but the sun is still just as likely to shine as it is to rain, the holidays are coming up and let me just say, the prospect of spending Thanksgiving and Christmas sandwiched between working days (since people don't get them off for normal holidays anyway), in balmy 85 degree weather without my family is less than ideal.
But on the other hand, I started to think about all that I would miss if I had to leave India right now. And I was suprised by what I came up with. Let me say right here, I realize I was being a tad dramatic, but when you have a fever, your mind tends to make up things and mine was already picturing the sad state India would be in without me and vice versa. Of course, I was able to daydream about what I wouldn't mind never seeing again as well. So what follows is a list of things that I would miss if I hadn't recovered from my mystery illness (pretty sure it was just the flu) and had to be packed home, feverish and clammy, before my time here was up, alongside of a few things I could most definitely do without:
Miss List:
1. My amazing Indian friends and my IDEX "Family" here -- you all know who you are and we haven't had near enough time to have a blast, argue, work together, and socialize yet.
2. My school -- Not only is my school Principal amazing but all of the students and teachers have made my experience at the very least more fulfilling than staying home working in a cubicle in Oregon.
3. The Chai guy down the road -- I walk by this guy every day, several times a day and have long since stopped buying chai from him. But he always waves, smiles happily, and says hello. Ditto the watchman at our neighborhood restaurant, the vegetable guy, the pharmacy workers across the street, and every staff member of Just Parantha.
4. On that note,I would miss my fruit and vegetable stands. I mean, it's nice to walk down the road, point at the stack of freshly cut papaya and watermelon and say "1 please" and voila, I have fruit. And the fresh vegetables housed in the roadside stand beat those at the supermarket anyday. And since I'm starved for anything healthy here, at least I can count these as small victories.
5. Hyderabad's "Western" clubs -- As a woman, we usually get into these for free and furthermore, as foreigners, we can often get our friends in for free as well. But the best part about these is the way they all try to fit a theme and for the most part, just miss the mark. But in a fun way. Take "10 Downing Street" which is modeled on an English pub but hasn't ever seen a pint of Guinness or a real English beer grace its bar. Still, it's endearing.
6. Cheap food - Spending less than a $1 on a fulling lunch, Pepsi in glass bottle included, is something I would dearly dearly DEARLY miss. Plus the quality of a streetside dosa or puri can't really be captured in how much you pay for it. So yummy. And so convenient. Well and all the food here is just delicious. So, yeah food in general.
7.And speaking of convenience, did you know you can get practically anything at practically any time? Okay well not really because the 24 hour culture that we have doesn't quite work here. But if you know the right people and places, that midnight chicken schwarma, served out of a watchman's post in front of an apartment building on Rd. 10 could just be yours.
8. Simplicity -- Okay so a lot of this country is complicated. Very complicated. And usually loud. But some things are just simpler and lack all the bells and whistles we have. Like my favorite steakhouse serves some of the best steaks I have ever had the joy of tasting, but the actual restaurant looks a bit sketchy to the western eye. No A/C, purple walls, less than stellar lighting. But that's the beauty of the place. Or the coffee place Lamakaan which also lacks A/C but has some of the cheapest wifi around, which is free, because of this. Not bad.
9. Autorickshaws -- A controversial declaration, I know. But really, there is something to be said about always being driven around by someone else. Yes they drive me crazy most of the time and yes I don't particularly like having to argue with someone every time I want to go somewhere. But traffic is one thing I don't worry about because these guys will mow down anyone in the way. And when I'm in the backseat on my way somewhere, that's just fine by me. Plus, those times when you get the rare happy auto driver who plays you some bollywood jams is always priceless.
10. Nothing is ever understaffed -- At times this can drive me crazy. I can't walk into a store anywhere without having some salesman descend upon me and continue to follow me around, making any browsing super awkward. And while having two servers to every one diner at a restaurant can also seem ridiculous and ineffecient, at least there is always one designated water pourer, one designated curry distributor, one separate roti deliverer, and of course, one biryani scooper.
11. Indian kids -- They go beyond just the school children. These are the kids on the street who stare at you with a gaping mouth, wondering if you have that skin disease that takes all the melanin out of your skin, or if you're just an alien. Yet they will usually wave and yell whatever English they know at you. "Hello how are you" being a favorite. Adorable.
12. Lack of lines -- Okay so this drove me absolutely crazy for about a month. And then I realized that I just need to get in on the deal. Just shove your way forward and unless you end up with a pushy Indian aunty behind you, no one really says anything. Okay wait. I think perfectionistic, type-A personality me still does hate this. But I'm adapting.
This brings me, briefly, to things I wouldn't miss about India. Sorry but I have to say it now.
The Not So Crazy About List:
1. The fluidity of time -- having studied abroad in Spain, I was all about not being rigidly on time and letting things go with the flow because everyone was consistently like 15-20 minutes late. But there is no consistency here. You say 30 minutes which can mean 15 minutes to one Indian and anywhere from 1 hour to 2 hours to another. And try as I might, 22 years of American punctuality being drilled into me won't escape. I just get more stressed out by you being late and unfortunately as a foreigner, if I'm left standing anywhere for any amount of time waiting for you, I'm kind of conscpicous. And by kind of I mean like a lot.
2. Autorickshaws -- Drivers consistently quote me prices 4 times what I should be paying just because I'm white. I will not pay 150 rupees from GVK to Rd. 12 (a 20 rupee journey) so if I literally laugh in your face, you know why.
3. Staring -- I'm so used to it now, it doesn't really phase me in Hyderabad. I've just come to terms with the fact that I'm a minor celebrity for like 10 months. But there's a difference between the quick start of surprise upon seeing my sadly pale skin or the blatant about-to-fall-off-your-motorbike because you noticed me walking by gaping. Didn't your mom ever teach you staring was rude?
4. Nothing is ever understaffed -- Yet still everything takes twice as long. I once ordered a mango smoothie from a restaurant down the road that I'm pretty sure is just a cover for a drug dealing ring. Because it should not take five men an hour and half to make one smoothie. Unless your actually milking the cow, going to pick the mango, and then hand mixing. I am not exaggerating. An hour and half. Oh yes and the 1sr man at the liquor store can only pack your liquor. You must wait for the 2nd man on the phone to be told to tell the third man (who is within earshot) how much change to give you while a 3rd man unlocks the lock box and passes the change back to the 2nd man to give to you.
5.Pollution, traffic, and lack of green -- My Hyderabadi friends would be quick to point out that there is green in Hyderabad. I'm sorry though, one park doesn't really count. And when walking around that park entails breathing in exahust that I'm pretty sure takes 10 minutes off my life for every minute I inhale, it definitely isn't the oasis of calm I need to escape life in India.
6. Public urination -- To a man, India is a giant urinal. Really. Anytime, anywhere, just pull your car/auto/bike/cow over to the side of the road and do your business in the wide open. And make sure you do it upwind so that lovely smell of ammonia will reach the nose of anyone in a 20 meter radius. Lovely.
7.Doing something just because one person thought it was a good idea -- Yes you should listen to your boss. But just because your boss once told you to save money by packing all of the customer's groceries into one bag doesn't mean you should continue to do it, even if that one bag is physically impossible for said customer to lift. And on that note, what genuis decided you must pay for something, get your receipt stamped saying you paid it, and then show that receipt again upon exit of a building to a security guard who hole punches it even though he just saw you get the receipt stamped and your hands are full? Ditto on the useless metal detectors and pat downs at malls but having no security to get on a long distance train ride.
8. Buses that don't go where they say they go -- That bus goes to Amberpet. Or so the sign posted clearly on the front says. So imagine your suprise when the ticket man comes to get money from you and you say "Amberpet" and he promptly shakes his head and pushes you out at the next stop.
9. No one ever has change -- Just once I would like to pay for a 100 rupee item ($2) with a thousand rupees ($20) and not get any complaints, moans or "no change madam" responses. For a country who has a rapidly expanding economy, no one ever has any change ever. Which is always a lie as the cashbox brimming with 100s that the cashier just hid from sight shows. Everyone is just hoarding their change from everyone else but the ATM doesn't seem to care...
Okay I think that's enough India for most of you for now. My fever has long since disappated and I am back to loving/hating life here as per usual. But I guess that's the point. Why go somewhere where I'm happy all the time or sad all the time? You have to dislike some things to like other things. And if there's one thing India has taught me it's never underestimate the power of the good to paint over the bad, because how else do you think people survive here?
So there I was on Diwali, with a temperature of 102, feeling sorry for myself as all sick people seem to, and running all the possible outcomes of my illness through my mind. I mean, on the one hand, I could die. And when you're living in a developing country known for its tropical diseases, that doesn't seem like such a distant possibility. Or I could have to get shipped back to the US. Now this thought was interesting... and presented me with some conflicted emotions. I mean I'm at that point of being abroad where I'm getting homesick. It's fall in Oregon right now, the leaves are changing, there's that nip in the air but the sun is still just as likely to shine as it is to rain, the holidays are coming up and let me just say, the prospect of spending Thanksgiving and Christmas sandwiched between working days (since people don't get them off for normal holidays anyway), in balmy 85 degree weather without my family is less than ideal.
But on the other hand, I started to think about all that I would miss if I had to leave India right now. And I was suprised by what I came up with. Let me say right here, I realize I was being a tad dramatic, but when you have a fever, your mind tends to make up things and mine was already picturing the sad state India would be in without me and vice versa. Of course, I was able to daydream about what I wouldn't mind never seeing again as well. So what follows is a list of things that I would miss if I hadn't recovered from my mystery illness (pretty sure it was just the flu) and had to be packed home, feverish and clammy, before my time here was up, alongside of a few things I could most definitely do without:
Miss List:
1. My amazing Indian friends and my IDEX "Family" here -- you all know who you are and we haven't had near enough time to have a blast, argue, work together, and socialize yet.
2. My school -- Not only is my school Principal amazing but all of the students and teachers have made my experience at the very least more fulfilling than staying home working in a cubicle in Oregon.
3. The Chai guy down the road -- I walk by this guy every day, several times a day and have long since stopped buying chai from him. But he always waves, smiles happily, and says hello. Ditto the watchman at our neighborhood restaurant, the vegetable guy, the pharmacy workers across the street, and every staff member of Just Parantha.
4. On that note,I would miss my fruit and vegetable stands. I mean, it's nice to walk down the road, point at the stack of freshly cut papaya and watermelon and say "1 please" and voila, I have fruit. And the fresh vegetables housed in the roadside stand beat those at the supermarket anyday. And since I'm starved for anything healthy here, at least I can count these as small victories.
5. Hyderabad's "Western" clubs -- As a woman, we usually get into these for free and furthermore, as foreigners, we can often get our friends in for free as well. But the best part about these is the way they all try to fit a theme and for the most part, just miss the mark. But in a fun way. Take "10 Downing Street" which is modeled on an English pub but hasn't ever seen a pint of Guinness or a real English beer grace its bar. Still, it's endearing.
6. Cheap food - Spending less than a $1 on a fulling lunch, Pepsi in glass bottle included, is something I would dearly dearly DEARLY miss. Plus the quality of a streetside dosa or puri can't really be captured in how much you pay for it. So yummy. And so convenient. Well and all the food here is just delicious. So, yeah food in general.
7.And speaking of convenience, did you know you can get practically anything at practically any time? Okay well not really because the 24 hour culture that we have doesn't quite work here. But if you know the right people and places, that midnight chicken schwarma, served out of a watchman's post in front of an apartment building on Rd. 10 could just be yours.
8. Simplicity -- Okay so a lot of this country is complicated. Very complicated. And usually loud. But some things are just simpler and lack all the bells and whistles we have. Like my favorite steakhouse serves some of the best steaks I have ever had the joy of tasting, but the actual restaurant looks a bit sketchy to the western eye. No A/C, purple walls, less than stellar lighting. But that's the beauty of the place. Or the coffee place Lamakaan which also lacks A/C but has some of the cheapest wifi around, which is free, because of this. Not bad.
9. Autorickshaws -- A controversial declaration, I know. But really, there is something to be said about always being driven around by someone else. Yes they drive me crazy most of the time and yes I don't particularly like having to argue with someone every time I want to go somewhere. But traffic is one thing I don't worry about because these guys will mow down anyone in the way. And when I'm in the backseat on my way somewhere, that's just fine by me. Plus, those times when you get the rare happy auto driver who plays you some bollywood jams is always priceless.
10. Nothing is ever understaffed -- At times this can drive me crazy. I can't walk into a store anywhere without having some salesman descend upon me and continue to follow me around, making any browsing super awkward. And while having two servers to every one diner at a restaurant can also seem ridiculous and ineffecient, at least there is always one designated water pourer, one designated curry distributor, one separate roti deliverer, and of course, one biryani scooper.
11. Indian kids -- They go beyond just the school children. These are the kids on the street who stare at you with a gaping mouth, wondering if you have that skin disease that takes all the melanin out of your skin, or if you're just an alien. Yet they will usually wave and yell whatever English they know at you. "Hello how are you" being a favorite. Adorable.
12. Lack of lines -- Okay so this drove me absolutely crazy for about a month. And then I realized that I just need to get in on the deal. Just shove your way forward and unless you end up with a pushy Indian aunty behind you, no one really says anything. Okay wait. I think perfectionistic, type-A personality me still does hate this. But I'm adapting.
This brings me, briefly, to things I wouldn't miss about India. Sorry but I have to say it now.
The Not So Crazy About List:
1. The fluidity of time -- having studied abroad in Spain, I was all about not being rigidly on time and letting things go with the flow because everyone was consistently like 15-20 minutes late. But there is no consistency here. You say 30 minutes which can mean 15 minutes to one Indian and anywhere from 1 hour to 2 hours to another. And try as I might, 22 years of American punctuality being drilled into me won't escape. I just get more stressed out by you being late and unfortunately as a foreigner, if I'm left standing anywhere for any amount of time waiting for you, I'm kind of conscpicous. And by kind of I mean like a lot.
2. Autorickshaws -- Drivers consistently quote me prices 4 times what I should be paying just because I'm white. I will not pay 150 rupees from GVK to Rd. 12 (a 20 rupee journey) so if I literally laugh in your face, you know why.
3. Staring -- I'm so used to it now, it doesn't really phase me in Hyderabad. I've just come to terms with the fact that I'm a minor celebrity for like 10 months. But there's a difference between the quick start of surprise upon seeing my sadly pale skin or the blatant about-to-fall-off-your-motorbike because you noticed me walking by gaping. Didn't your mom ever teach you staring was rude?
4. Nothing is ever understaffed -- Yet still everything takes twice as long. I once ordered a mango smoothie from a restaurant down the road that I'm pretty sure is just a cover for a drug dealing ring. Because it should not take five men an hour and half to make one smoothie. Unless your actually milking the cow, going to pick the mango, and then hand mixing. I am not exaggerating. An hour and half. Oh yes and the 1sr man at the liquor store can only pack your liquor. You must wait for the 2nd man on the phone to be told to tell the third man (who is within earshot) how much change to give you while a 3rd man unlocks the lock box and passes the change back to the 2nd man to give to you.
5.Pollution, traffic, and lack of green -- My Hyderabadi friends would be quick to point out that there is green in Hyderabad. I'm sorry though, one park doesn't really count. And when walking around that park entails breathing in exahust that I'm pretty sure takes 10 minutes off my life for every minute I inhale, it definitely isn't the oasis of calm I need to escape life in India.
6. Public urination -- To a man, India is a giant urinal. Really. Anytime, anywhere, just pull your car/auto/bike/cow over to the side of the road and do your business in the wide open. And make sure you do it upwind so that lovely smell of ammonia will reach the nose of anyone in a 20 meter radius. Lovely.
7.Doing something just because one person thought it was a good idea -- Yes you should listen to your boss. But just because your boss once told you to save money by packing all of the customer's groceries into one bag doesn't mean you should continue to do it, even if that one bag is physically impossible for said customer to lift. And on that note, what genuis decided you must pay for something, get your receipt stamped saying you paid it, and then show that receipt again upon exit of a building to a security guard who hole punches it even though he just saw you get the receipt stamped and your hands are full? Ditto on the useless metal detectors and pat downs at malls but having no security to get on a long distance train ride.
8. Buses that don't go where they say they go -- That bus goes to Amberpet. Or so the sign posted clearly on the front says. So imagine your suprise when the ticket man comes to get money from you and you say "Amberpet" and he promptly shakes his head and pushes you out at the next stop.
9. No one ever has change -- Just once I would like to pay for a 100 rupee item ($2) with a thousand rupees ($20) and not get any complaints, moans or "no change madam" responses. For a country who has a rapidly expanding economy, no one ever has any change ever. Which is always a lie as the cashbox brimming with 100s that the cashier just hid from sight shows. Everyone is just hoarding their change from everyone else but the ATM doesn't seem to care...
Okay I think that's enough India for most of you for now. My fever has long since disappated and I am back to loving/hating life here as per usual. But I guess that's the point. Why go somewhere where I'm happy all the time or sad all the time? You have to dislike some things to like other things. And if there's one thing India has taught me it's never underestimate the power of the good to paint over the bad, because how else do you think people survive here?
Monday, October 17, 2011
Why yes, I do have a job
Over the past few weeks, many of you have fallen under the impression that my time in India is all about traveling, eating, hanging out with friends, with the occasional visit to my school thrown in. And while the IDEX Fellowship is about expanding your horizons, it may surprise you all who know my social butterfly ways that I still have a job to do and I think it's been a while since you've heard about it. I take it for granted that my day-to-day life in school and at meetings is rather boring for you, yet in order to really get a full picture of life in Hyderabad, you do have to understand a bit more about what I am doing and why. Well and this helps assuage my conscience because I have been really neglectful about staying in contact with a lot of you. But I promise- I have evening meetings at least 2-3 times a week and even have events to attend on the weekends. So I don't love you all any less! But back to work...
So social enterprise. I know in my first post I attempted to explain what I was doing under the fellowship and I believe I did a rather poor job. First, I should probably explain what the whole concept of social enterprise is. Social enterprise is about combining business acumen with a social mission although many social enterpreneurs don't even realize they are doing both. You see, most of our school owners see themselves as businessmen(or women) plain and simple. Perhaps they are doing a good deed for the kids in the city but at the end of the day, their bottom line is what matters most. But this doesn't really make them any less of social entrepreneurs. Our job is to help them not only with their business model but to enhance the quality of the social service they are delivering. And outside of the schools, we all interviewed and were selected for various Professional Development positions with other social entreprises around the city and the country.
So what does this look like? Well in my case, I am focusing heavily on extra-curriculars and infrastructure improvements in my school. For instance, I plan to get some semblance of a library up and running, have created drama and art clubs for students to express themselves outside of academia, have connected 5th graders in the US with 6th graders at my school through a pen pal program, will help run a cricket league and spelling bee, have been holding computer and English training seminars for the teachers in my school, and am a resource to bring in career training and other educational services to better the school.
I am also currently working with the Indian School Finance Company which services many of the slum schools in Hyderabad. ISFC gives loans to schools for infrastructural improvements where most banks fail. However, as ISFC has only been up and running for several years, there is still a lack of information about the impact of these loans. And that's where me and another fellow come in. We will be visiting at least 50 of these schools to conduct in-depth interviews with the school owners and creating a profile for each of these. We will also be compiling a SIM survey for all 247 schools with loans to complete. At the end of the year, we hope to have a report detailing ISFC impact and a template for measuring future needs within the community.
And of course, all of this has created one of the least structured work schedules of my life. I mean, I do go to school on a regular basis although some days are shorter or longer than others depending on other work commitments. But then it's the random meetings, information sessions, and other group collaberations that come on a irregular basis. And this being India, meeting times are moved around, cancelled or change location on a last minute basis all the time. Just part of the Indian business scene.Yet I have had an opportunity not only to collaberate with other fellows who have great ideas, but also meet movers and shakers in the development scene and even in Indian business. Multi-millionaires and CEOs of some of the most exciting social enterprises in Hyderabad? Been there, done that.
So yes, I do work, actually more than I expect most weeks. My 9-5, Monday-Friday internship seems like another lifetime, especially when I sit in on a teacher training session all day Saturday or spend Sunday afternoons in group meetings. But it's already been a fulfilling experience. I mean, things definitely don't work out like I expect them to, pretty much all the time, but they also take unexpected turns for the better. There really isn't anything to beat the feeling of having a student at school excited to learn or your school owner impressed by an idea you have and seeing it implemented in your school. It's about the small changes you can make and the individual connections. Maybe I won't change the world, or even India, or even Hyderabad, but perhaps I can change things for the better at Lohia's Little Angels High School. I sure hope so...
So social enterprise. I know in my first post I attempted to explain what I was doing under the fellowship and I believe I did a rather poor job. First, I should probably explain what the whole concept of social enterprise is. Social enterprise is about combining business acumen with a social mission although many social enterpreneurs don't even realize they are doing both. You see, most of our school owners see themselves as businessmen(or women) plain and simple. Perhaps they are doing a good deed for the kids in the city but at the end of the day, their bottom line is what matters most. But this doesn't really make them any less of social entrepreneurs. Our job is to help them not only with their business model but to enhance the quality of the social service they are delivering. And outside of the schools, we all interviewed and were selected for various Professional Development positions with other social entreprises around the city and the country.
So what does this look like? Well in my case, I am focusing heavily on extra-curriculars and infrastructure improvements in my school. For instance, I plan to get some semblance of a library up and running, have created drama and art clubs for students to express themselves outside of academia, have connected 5th graders in the US with 6th graders at my school through a pen pal program, will help run a cricket league and spelling bee, have been holding computer and English training seminars for the teachers in my school, and am a resource to bring in career training and other educational services to better the school.
I am also currently working with the Indian School Finance Company which services many of the slum schools in Hyderabad. ISFC gives loans to schools for infrastructural improvements where most banks fail. However, as ISFC has only been up and running for several years, there is still a lack of information about the impact of these loans. And that's where me and another fellow come in. We will be visiting at least 50 of these schools to conduct in-depth interviews with the school owners and creating a profile for each of these. We will also be compiling a SIM survey for all 247 schools with loans to complete. At the end of the year, we hope to have a report detailing ISFC impact and a template for measuring future needs within the community.
And of course, all of this has created one of the least structured work schedules of my life. I mean, I do go to school on a regular basis although some days are shorter or longer than others depending on other work commitments. But then it's the random meetings, information sessions, and other group collaberations that come on a irregular basis. And this being India, meeting times are moved around, cancelled or change location on a last minute basis all the time. Just part of the Indian business scene.Yet I have had an opportunity not only to collaberate with other fellows who have great ideas, but also meet movers and shakers in the development scene and even in Indian business. Multi-millionaires and CEOs of some of the most exciting social enterprises in Hyderabad? Been there, done that.
So yes, I do work, actually more than I expect most weeks. My 9-5, Monday-Friday internship seems like another lifetime, especially when I sit in on a teacher training session all day Saturday or spend Sunday afternoons in group meetings. But it's already been a fulfilling experience. I mean, things definitely don't work out like I expect them to, pretty much all the time, but they also take unexpected turns for the better. There really isn't anything to beat the feeling of having a student at school excited to learn or your school owner impressed by an idea you have and seeing it implemented in your school. It's about the small changes you can make and the individual connections. Maybe I won't change the world, or even India, or even Hyderabad, but perhaps I can change things for the better at Lohia's Little Angels High School. I sure hope so...
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
[Miss]Communication?
The one thing about this blog is that many of my Indian friends have decided to start reading it too. Which is fine. Unless I want to post sweeping generalizations or help perpetuate stereotypes and I'm afraid I may just be doing that now. Luckily though, their presence serves to keep me honest and from totally misrepresenting the country as a whole. So I will start this post by apologizing for the things I am about to describe and for the fact that I will probably get things completely wrong or offend. All in good fun, right? You see, I briefly contemplated discussing something important and serious, like corruption in the country or the state of poverty in the city. But those can wait and India receives enough bad press sometimes without me having to perpetuate it. Instead, I decided it’s time to expose my western audience to the eccentricities of the Southern (or even just Hyderabadi) Indian way of communicating. Not to say that one way is better than the other. To the contrary, I am finding a lot of things in India a bit more my style than what I see in the US. Yet it still bears mention that some things are, well, different.
So let’s start with a simple act that I have already mentioned a few times in my blog. The head wobble. Actually this isn’t an epidemic in all parts of India but if you spend enough time hanging around my school or with auto rickshaw drivers, you learn quite quickly that this has taken the place of any direct “yes” in the country. In fact, it is so prevalent that I find myself doing it without thinking. I didn’t realize this until I was on a recent Skype conversation with a friend back home. She asked me a simple yes or no question and I responded by moving my head first right and then left and saying “ha” or yes. “Umm Jenny, what did you just do?” was the response. Of course, on the other side of things is the tongue click. If you want to respond to someone by saying no or if you make a mistake you just sort of incline your head to one side and make a “tisk” noise. Way easier than verbalizing the word no.
Now time to move on to the distinct way that many Indians use English. Again, these are only things I have heard and seen from a few and not all, but they’re prevalent enough to warrant some attention. First of all, everyone is a "sir" or "madam." When I arrived I was horrible at remembering to add sir, miss, or madam to the end of the names of teachers at my school. Now, I've reached such proficiency that I need to stop myself when talking to Americans. They would just be weirded out. And if I had a rupee for every time I saw a sign advertising a restaurant-cum-bar or a spa-cum-hair salon, well I’d probably have 100 rupees. Vestiges of the Old Colonizer definitely still remain. I mean, here, instead of waiting in line at the drugstore for reading glasses, I would queue at the dispensary for spectacles. And then there’s the small things that often take me a few minutes to understand. For instance, if someone says they are “mostly” going to do something, it means they will. Like “I am mostly coming to visit” means that they will come to visit. Or “shift.” People don’t move to houses or locations, instead they “shift to Chennai.” And my personal favorites are the abbreviations everyone here uses. You remember how teenage girls were known for texting things like “c u l8r?” Well that is not just a youth phenomenon here. Everyone does it. From Facebook, to texts, even to movie titles like “I Hate Luv Storys” (yes stories is spelled wrong, I hope purposefully) or “C U at 9” (actual movie title, can you believe it?) And now I am just as guilty, often reverting back to my 7th grade self via text messages or Facebook chat and using way more emoticons than I ever have before in my life. Just be glad I'm not even starting on the misspelling or randomly worded signs I see because that alone could comprise a few blog posts...
Most importantly though must be the way people get what they want. I have already complained about the amount of time it often takes me to get things or order them, such as the catastrophe of our wifi purchasing in July showed. But now things are quite simple. If someone says "Sunday," I usually plan for Wednesday. And if you want to make extra sure something gets done or gets done well, just slip in ten rupees or twenty rupees and that'll do the trick. And if people still aren't listening to you? That's when you pull the "I'm disappointed in you, I will take my business elsewhere, can't anyone do this right" card. Because while people may grumble and complain (the customer is always right mentality DEFINITELY doesn't apply here), they realize they have a lot of competition for your business since the guy next door is probably selling the exact same thing.
Of course, this leaves me with some of the aspects I love most about Indian communication. For one, people are so direct here. "What is your name" can just as promptly be followed up with "How much money do you make." If someone has any problem at school, they come directly to me with it. Or if you are in the woman's way on her scooter, she'll yell at you immediately. No beating around the bush here. And this also makes people so much more affectionate and generous. It didn't take long for the girls at school to be telling me how much they love "Jenny Ma'am" or for my school teachers to try and force feed me everything in sight when they thought I looked too thin! Me, too thin? Ha! I think that's the moment I feel in love with this country...So for now, especially to my lovely Indian friends, keep on keeping on. Or as you say, cu l8r ;)
So let’s start with a simple act that I have already mentioned a few times in my blog. The head wobble. Actually this isn’t an epidemic in all parts of India but if you spend enough time hanging around my school or with auto rickshaw drivers, you learn quite quickly that this has taken the place of any direct “yes” in the country. In fact, it is so prevalent that I find myself doing it without thinking. I didn’t realize this until I was on a recent Skype conversation with a friend back home. She asked me a simple yes or no question and I responded by moving my head first right and then left and saying “ha” or yes. “Umm Jenny, what did you just do?” was the response. Of course, on the other side of things is the tongue click. If you want to respond to someone by saying no or if you make a mistake you just sort of incline your head to one side and make a “tisk” noise. Way easier than verbalizing the word no.
Now time to move on to the distinct way that many Indians use English. Again, these are only things I have heard and seen from a few and not all, but they’re prevalent enough to warrant some attention. First of all, everyone is a "sir" or "madam." When I arrived I was horrible at remembering to add sir, miss, or madam to the end of the names of teachers at my school. Now, I've reached such proficiency that I need to stop myself when talking to Americans. They would just be weirded out. And if I had a rupee for every time I saw a sign advertising a restaurant-cum-bar or a spa-cum-hair salon, well I’d probably have 100 rupees. Vestiges of the Old Colonizer definitely still remain. I mean, here, instead of waiting in line at the drugstore for reading glasses, I would queue at the dispensary for spectacles. And then there’s the small things that often take me a few minutes to understand. For instance, if someone says they are “mostly” going to do something, it means they will. Like “I am mostly coming to visit” means that they will come to visit. Or “shift.” People don’t move to houses or locations, instead they “shift to Chennai.” And my personal favorites are the abbreviations everyone here uses. You remember how teenage girls were known for texting things like “c u l8r?” Well that is not just a youth phenomenon here. Everyone does it. From Facebook, to texts, even to movie titles like “I Hate Luv Storys” (yes stories is spelled wrong, I hope purposefully) or “C U at 9” (actual movie title, can you believe it?) And now I am just as guilty, often reverting back to my 7th grade self via text messages or Facebook chat and using way more emoticons than I ever have before in my life. Just be glad I'm not even starting on the misspelling or randomly worded signs I see because that alone could comprise a few blog posts...
Most importantly though must be the way people get what they want. I have already complained about the amount of time it often takes me to get things or order them, such as the catastrophe of our wifi purchasing in July showed. But now things are quite simple. If someone says "Sunday," I usually plan for Wednesday. And if you want to make extra sure something gets done or gets done well, just slip in ten rupees or twenty rupees and that'll do the trick. And if people still aren't listening to you? That's when you pull the "I'm disappointed in you, I will take my business elsewhere, can't anyone do this right" card. Because while people may grumble and complain (the customer is always right mentality DEFINITELY doesn't apply here), they realize they have a lot of competition for your business since the guy next door is probably selling the exact same thing.
Of course, this leaves me with some of the aspects I love most about Indian communication. For one, people are so direct here. "What is your name" can just as promptly be followed up with "How much money do you make." If someone has any problem at school, they come directly to me with it. Or if you are in the woman's way on her scooter, she'll yell at you immediately. No beating around the bush here. And this also makes people so much more affectionate and generous. It didn't take long for the girls at school to be telling me how much they love "Jenny Ma'am" or for my school teachers to try and force feed me everything in sight when they thought I looked too thin! Me, too thin? Ha! I think that's the moment I feel in love with this country...So for now, especially to my lovely Indian friends, keep on keeping on. Or as you say, cu l8r ;)
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Chalo! Part 2
I should preface this post with a little better description of my travel partners. It does make a bit of a difference. There was me of course, another American girl, a British girl and an American boy, all friends from my fellowship program. Also with us was our Indian friend from our fellowship and I have to say at this point, I feel sorry for her. Not only did she have to do most of the bargaining and talking for us since our Hindi is nonexistent, but she had to put up with questions like "are you their guide" or "which country?" and then they would assume she was American because she was with us. Apparently Indians and Americans can't be friends. Whoops, my bad. Of course the best part would be when she would flag down a rickshaw by herself, negotiate a price for all of us and then have us come out of hiding from around the corner. You could see the rickshaw driver's face drop as he calculated just how much more money he could have squeezed out of the foreigners. But I digress. Back to the trip.
Our second morning in Jaipur found us at the "bus station" or more accurately, on one of two mini buses parked under the highway overpass. No matter though because this bus ride flew by in three hours and the warm air wafting through the window just so happened to cure my cold and cough for a few hours at least. We were on our way to Pushkar, a small town on the edge of the Thar desert, having decided Jodhpur was too far for us in our exhausted state and required too much energy. Plus we heard Pushkar was amazing, filled with holy sites, tourists, and with that, good Israeli food. Since I hadn't eaten a decent hummus in months, how could I resist?
Our hostel, the unaptly named Hotel Everest, was pleasant and within walking distance of everything we wanted to see. Of course, my head was a bit too congested to completely appreciate the view of the city and the hundreds of monkeys climbing from rooftop to rooftop but no matter. It turned out to be nothing 20 cents worth of Indian cold medicine at the pharmacy couldn't cure.
As we set off to wander the streets in the mid-afternoon, I was a bit shellshocked. Because THIS was the India we had all imagined. THIS was the place where narrow lanes bordered by fruit stands, silver shops, open air stands selling samosas, and temples were blocked by painted cows. THIS was the place where white marble steps covered in pigeon poop and cow manure led straight into the lake and pilgrims of all types came to bathe in the water. Of course, THIS was also the place that tourists had discovered and within one minute of our reaching the waterfront, an old man with paan-stained teeth approached us and led us down to the lake to perform puja or a worship ceremony. After all Pushkar is one of the holiest cities in India and the only one with the a temple devoted to the Hindu God of creation, Brahma. So it was kind of a big deal. And don't worry Mom, I didn't go into the lake itself! Instead he sat us down by the water, chanted ridiculous things in English (Happy Pamily, Black Night, 27th, Tuesday, Good Marriage, Good Karma, Welcome to Rajasthan, Namaste, How many rupees?) which made our Indian friend laugh. Puja's usually don't happen in English. Yet we perservered and still threw some flower petals into the water and emerged from the experience with bracelets and bindis and only a few less rupees in our pockets. Plus we had gotten to wander down on the ghats by the lake, which you can only really do if you are participating in Puja.
The rest of the day was spent shopping and exploring. It was the most relaxing part of the trip and people were so much friendlier here than anywhere else I had been. I'm sure some of this had to do with the fact that they really wanted us to purchase their products but no matter. The day was capped off by a wonderful dinner of hummus, pita, tzaziki, eggplant, falafel...basically all of my favorite foods on one plate. And luckily the monkey swinging precariously in the tree above us decided not to try and steal our dinner. Day one of relaxation was complete.
The next morning, my cold got the better of me and I ended up sleeping in way past what I had planned. In fact, all of my friends had gotten up at sunrise to climb up a hill to a nearby temple and I was completely oblivious to it. I was a bit disappointed to have missed it, especially after hearing their raving descriptions when we met up for breakfast, but I was feeling much better having slept. So much so in fact, I took to wandering the streets by myself for a few hours, ahead of the backpacking crowd who was still sleeping off their hangovers. As I turned a corner to the less touristy area of the town, I was met with a procession, complete with a brass band and vividly colored horses and floats. There were children dressed as Hindu gods on the backs of the horses and on the floats being carried through town. It's really something to see Laxmi drinking a juicebox.
Sufficiently cultured, I headed back to the hostel to rest up for our epic camel trek to come. Originally we were planning on doing an overnight trip but it turns out that those had been cancelled due to a robbery (again, Mom, no worries..)so we settled for a sunset trek. I have to say, having ridden horses, I thought a camel would be no big deal. But let me tell you, they are BIG! Our guides rode behind us and seemed to get a kick out of my ability to sit the camel's trot without holding on. Eventually I convinced the guide to hand over the reins and I got to steer Johnny (my camel) myself. We rode through rural land where the "gypsy workers" set up their makeshift camps. By sunset we hopped off the camels to enjoy a contraband beer (alcohol and meat are both prohibited in Pushkar due to religious reasons but honestly, you can find the former easily enough). While we were sitting in the sand and nursing our sore legs, an older man and three raggedly dressed kids came over from their nearby tent and sat down by us. The man started to play his sitar but we asked him to stop, not really wanting to see the kids being forced to dance for us. But a few minutes later, he started up again and the kids began to dance, giggling the whole time. The only way I can describe it is as a bizarre scene. Against the backdrop of one of the most beautiful sunsets of my life, three eight year olds essentially spun around in the sand to surprisingly moving music, while five camels munched on grass behind us. It's moments like these when I am hit with the realization that yes, I am definitely in India.
Our guides then told us to hurry up so we could get back before dark. Of course, when I said I was ready to go fast, I didn't realize we would be racing. But I was game. Running on a camel though is a different story. A camel's galloping stride is probably double that of a horse and at least twice as bumpy. While we won the race, I almost fell off in the process. The prospect of falling 15 feet to hard packed dirt definitely scared me for a minute. And all too soon we were back in the city, hobbling toward our hostel for our 5AM wakeup before catching a bus to Udaipur. I was sorry to leave Pushkar and not exactly looking forward to another 7 hour bus ride. But I hadn't come all this way to spend my days vegging out by a holy lake. It was time to see the Venice of the East!
I will skip the long bus ride through the greenery of southern Rajasthan and bring you straight to Udaipur. Udaipur is the home of the Maharana, not to be confused with the Maharaja. Maharajan kings were eventually conquered by Muslim empires whereas Maharana were not. Therefore, Maharana = better warrior which is why Udaipur's symbol is the horse, representing power.The other two parts of this trilogy are the elephant representing Jaipur and luck, and the camel which is the symbol of the desert city of Jaisalmar near the Pakistani border, representing love. Anyway, Udaipur is something to be seen and I'm not sure if my descriptions will give it justice. The old city is set on along the water of a huge man-made lake with the buildings cascading down into the waterfront. Out on the lake is the famous Lake Palace Hotel which would set me back a whole month's salary for one night's stay. Beyond that is the island where the King used to go for entertaining and which now houses several world-class restaurants. But the thing about Udaipur is that it sees even more tourists than other places in Rajasthan due to its beauty. So we had quite a different experience there.
It was low season which meant that wandering around the streets was an exercise in patience. Every single shop owner asked the obligatory "which country" to which I often replied in Spanish. Or we had rickshaw drivers asking us where we wanted to go even though everything was in walking distance. "New York, 100 rupees" became my classic response which usually illicited a smile but didn't stop them from trying to convince me to go somewhere else. And the problem was that we would walk by the same shop owners several times a day. It got to the point that after bargaining at a restaurant for a bottle of beer, the next morning a shop owner who had overheard the conversation was asking us how we enjoyed the beer and whether or not we wanted to go dancing that night. But luckily we had our male friend along who in the span of a day acquired four "girlfriends" or "wives" depending on the situation.
Our first evening in Udaipur we went to a cultural dance performance. I was fully prepared for the tacky tourist trap but was pleasantly surprised. There was a dance where the women wore bells on their wrists, arms and legs and hit them impressively in time with the music. There was also an entertaining puppet dance and the best was a traditional desert dance from Jaisalmar where a woman balanced six water pots on her head all the while dancing. Cheesy as it sounds, it was honestly one of my favorite things we did in Udaipur and I couldn't help but buy a pair of Rajasthani puppets to remember my time there.
Our next day included a sunrise stroll through the city and along the lake. To say it was lovely is a bit of an understatement but it was. The mist rose off the lake and everything had that orange glow that only happens once a day. Of course the moment was dampened a bit from having to dodge around cows and manure but it was still peaceful and just what we needed before going to gawk at the amazing City Palace. Much like Jaipur's, it is luxurious beyond imagine and the current king still uses the old portion for parties. In fact, you can rent it out for several hundred thousand rupees for a night if you want your wedding there. At least the number you call to do so is toll free.
After admiring the cage where the King used to keep his tigers, the ornate stables where the horses were kept, and the elephant dueling ground, we spent the rest of the afternoon gearing up for our overnight train ride to Delhi. Mostly this meant going to an all-you-can-eat restaurant and gorging ourselves on delicious curries and chapattis to last us until the morning. And believe me, I wasn't hungry for 18 hours afterwards.
The train journey itself was fine aside from an interruption at 2AM as a man confused his compartment and demanded I show him our tickets. But at least he apologized profusely. Oh yeah, and the bugs crawling all over the floor but I prefer to supress that particular memory. And I was a bit sad to be leaving the relative peace of Rajasthan and entering the chaos of Delhi. I didn't feel prepared to face it again and judging by the nervous looks on my friend's faces as we pulled into the station, neither were they. And of course, right from the start, Delhi sucked us in. We were literally pushed off the train and out of the station by the swelling crowd and found ourselves in a taxi bound for the International Youth Hostel. We chose the hostel precisely because it was off the beaten track and was set in the lush, tree-covered lanes where all of the Embassies in the city were. But we arrived at 7:30AM only to discover that we couldn't check in until 11AM and they wouldn't even let us keep our bags in the hostel until then. There was no way we were lugging our backpacks with us. My own bag had doubled in size over the last two days and I'm fairly certain it's a bad sign if your arms go numb while carrying your pack. And there was literally no restaurant or coffee shop nearby where we could relax until then.
Sadly, we were forced to do the thing I had been trying to avoid: find a hostel in the infamous Pahar Ganj neighborhood. We found one, that was cheap but a place I wouldn't mind never seeing again. We also found the place in India where all of the scary, hippy backpackers end up. I mean, up until this point, our fellow tourists tended to be young like us and similarly outfitted. But in Delhi we saw fifty year olds who looked as though they had landed in Pahar Ganj decades ago and just never left. I haven't seen that many white dreadlocks in my life or that many dirty rucksacks lining the tables of street cafes before. On the plus side, we did meet "James Bond," an Indian auto driver who was convinced I looked like Angelina Jolie. I told him it's only because I'm white to which he replied "well yes, all white people look like celebrities." If only that were true.
After dropping our bags off at the hostel, we hopped onto Delhi's metro which is probably my favorite thing about the city. Clean, air-conditioned, and not too crowded, it is the only way to travel without getting hassled. We got off at an open-air market where life again started to look up. Bargaining has become a favorite pasttime of mine and I managed to snag a few deals. After that we met up with a friend of our Indian friend who took us to one of Delhi's many luxury malls. It was weird in the span of three hours to see such different sides of Delhi. While cruising in an air-conditioned car, Delhi really didn't seem so bad. Until you looked out the window and noticed the amount of people begging or the grit of the city. Even passing monuments like the Parlaiment, the streets would be in better repair, lined with trees and lovely, and then you would turn a corner and see a tent city. Poverty is something you get used to living here but then again, Hyderabad doesn't seem to have it to the same extent as Delhi. I'm ashamed to admit it but I've become accustomed to passively seeing things in India that would disturb me in the US, but at least for a while, Delhi jarred me out of this complacency and reminded me a bit of why I am here in the first place.
The rest of our time in Delhi passed almost pleasantly as we explored what monuments we could, including the beautiful but crowded India Gate dominating a grassy stretch of pedestiran walkway runnning to Parlaiment and best seen at sunset. We also spent several hours just relaxing in a grassy park, playing card games until a security guard told us no gambling was allowed in the park. We tried to explain that "Go Fish" isn't exactly a gambling game but decided it was best just to leave it anyway.
As we said goodbye to the city and headed to the airport, I was finally able to take a moment to reflect on the craziness of the last eight days. And I decided that I had probably just had one of the most intense yet fulfilling eight days of my life. I've traveled a fair share and seen some amazing things in the past but India is a different ballgame entirely. You learn to turn assumptions on their head here and you also learn quite quickly that this is a country that can balance extremes in a way no other place in the world can. And despite the headaches, frustration, and anxiety that may come along with the trip, you realize that these are also the things that make travel great. So while I am glad to be back in Hyderabad, I'm already looking forward to my next chance to explore this crazy, intricate country. Next up? Hopefully some elephant riding!
Our second morning in Jaipur found us at the "bus station" or more accurately, on one of two mini buses parked under the highway overpass. No matter though because this bus ride flew by in three hours and the warm air wafting through the window just so happened to cure my cold and cough for a few hours at least. We were on our way to Pushkar, a small town on the edge of the Thar desert, having decided Jodhpur was too far for us in our exhausted state and required too much energy. Plus we heard Pushkar was amazing, filled with holy sites, tourists, and with that, good Israeli food. Since I hadn't eaten a decent hummus in months, how could I resist?
Our hostel, the unaptly named Hotel Everest, was pleasant and within walking distance of everything we wanted to see. Of course, my head was a bit too congested to completely appreciate the view of the city and the hundreds of monkeys climbing from rooftop to rooftop but no matter. It turned out to be nothing 20 cents worth of Indian cold medicine at the pharmacy couldn't cure.
As we set off to wander the streets in the mid-afternoon, I was a bit shellshocked. Because THIS was the India we had all imagined. THIS was the place where narrow lanes bordered by fruit stands, silver shops, open air stands selling samosas, and temples were blocked by painted cows. THIS was the place where white marble steps covered in pigeon poop and cow manure led straight into the lake and pilgrims of all types came to bathe in the water. Of course, THIS was also the place that tourists had discovered and within one minute of our reaching the waterfront, an old man with paan-stained teeth approached us and led us down to the lake to perform puja or a worship ceremony. After all Pushkar is one of the holiest cities in India and the only one with the a temple devoted to the Hindu God of creation, Brahma. So it was kind of a big deal. And don't worry Mom, I didn't go into the lake itself! Instead he sat us down by the water, chanted ridiculous things in English (Happy Pamily, Black Night, 27th, Tuesday, Good Marriage, Good Karma, Welcome to Rajasthan, Namaste, How many rupees?) which made our Indian friend laugh. Puja's usually don't happen in English. Yet we perservered and still threw some flower petals into the water and emerged from the experience with bracelets and bindis and only a few less rupees in our pockets. Plus we had gotten to wander down on the ghats by the lake, which you can only really do if you are participating in Puja.
The rest of the day was spent shopping and exploring. It was the most relaxing part of the trip and people were so much friendlier here than anywhere else I had been. I'm sure some of this had to do with the fact that they really wanted us to purchase their products but no matter. The day was capped off by a wonderful dinner of hummus, pita, tzaziki, eggplant, falafel...basically all of my favorite foods on one plate. And luckily the monkey swinging precariously in the tree above us decided not to try and steal our dinner. Day one of relaxation was complete.
The next morning, my cold got the better of me and I ended up sleeping in way past what I had planned. In fact, all of my friends had gotten up at sunrise to climb up a hill to a nearby temple and I was completely oblivious to it. I was a bit disappointed to have missed it, especially after hearing their raving descriptions when we met up for breakfast, but I was feeling much better having slept. So much so in fact, I took to wandering the streets by myself for a few hours, ahead of the backpacking crowd who was still sleeping off their hangovers. As I turned a corner to the less touristy area of the town, I was met with a procession, complete with a brass band and vividly colored horses and floats. There were children dressed as Hindu gods on the backs of the horses and on the floats being carried through town. It's really something to see Laxmi drinking a juicebox.
Sufficiently cultured, I headed back to the hostel to rest up for our epic camel trek to come. Originally we were planning on doing an overnight trip but it turns out that those had been cancelled due to a robbery (again, Mom, no worries..)so we settled for a sunset trek. I have to say, having ridden horses, I thought a camel would be no big deal. But let me tell you, they are BIG! Our guides rode behind us and seemed to get a kick out of my ability to sit the camel's trot without holding on. Eventually I convinced the guide to hand over the reins and I got to steer Johnny (my camel) myself. We rode through rural land where the "gypsy workers" set up their makeshift camps. By sunset we hopped off the camels to enjoy a contraband beer (alcohol and meat are both prohibited in Pushkar due to religious reasons but honestly, you can find the former easily enough). While we were sitting in the sand and nursing our sore legs, an older man and three raggedly dressed kids came over from their nearby tent and sat down by us. The man started to play his sitar but we asked him to stop, not really wanting to see the kids being forced to dance for us. But a few minutes later, he started up again and the kids began to dance, giggling the whole time. The only way I can describe it is as a bizarre scene. Against the backdrop of one of the most beautiful sunsets of my life, three eight year olds essentially spun around in the sand to surprisingly moving music, while five camels munched on grass behind us. It's moments like these when I am hit with the realization that yes, I am definitely in India.
Our guides then told us to hurry up so we could get back before dark. Of course, when I said I was ready to go fast, I didn't realize we would be racing. But I was game. Running on a camel though is a different story. A camel's galloping stride is probably double that of a horse and at least twice as bumpy. While we won the race, I almost fell off in the process. The prospect of falling 15 feet to hard packed dirt definitely scared me for a minute. And all too soon we were back in the city, hobbling toward our hostel for our 5AM wakeup before catching a bus to Udaipur. I was sorry to leave Pushkar and not exactly looking forward to another 7 hour bus ride. But I hadn't come all this way to spend my days vegging out by a holy lake. It was time to see the Venice of the East!
I will skip the long bus ride through the greenery of southern Rajasthan and bring you straight to Udaipur. Udaipur is the home of the Maharana, not to be confused with the Maharaja. Maharajan kings were eventually conquered by Muslim empires whereas Maharana were not. Therefore, Maharana = better warrior which is why Udaipur's symbol is the horse, representing power.The other two parts of this trilogy are the elephant representing Jaipur and luck, and the camel which is the symbol of the desert city of Jaisalmar near the Pakistani border, representing love. Anyway, Udaipur is something to be seen and I'm not sure if my descriptions will give it justice. The old city is set on along the water of a huge man-made lake with the buildings cascading down into the waterfront. Out on the lake is the famous Lake Palace Hotel which would set me back a whole month's salary for one night's stay. Beyond that is the island where the King used to go for entertaining and which now houses several world-class restaurants. But the thing about Udaipur is that it sees even more tourists than other places in Rajasthan due to its beauty. So we had quite a different experience there.
It was low season which meant that wandering around the streets was an exercise in patience. Every single shop owner asked the obligatory "which country" to which I often replied in Spanish. Or we had rickshaw drivers asking us where we wanted to go even though everything was in walking distance. "New York, 100 rupees" became my classic response which usually illicited a smile but didn't stop them from trying to convince me to go somewhere else. And the problem was that we would walk by the same shop owners several times a day. It got to the point that after bargaining at a restaurant for a bottle of beer, the next morning a shop owner who had overheard the conversation was asking us how we enjoyed the beer and whether or not we wanted to go dancing that night. But luckily we had our male friend along who in the span of a day acquired four "girlfriends" or "wives" depending on the situation.
Our first evening in Udaipur we went to a cultural dance performance. I was fully prepared for the tacky tourist trap but was pleasantly surprised. There was a dance where the women wore bells on their wrists, arms and legs and hit them impressively in time with the music. There was also an entertaining puppet dance and the best was a traditional desert dance from Jaisalmar where a woman balanced six water pots on her head all the while dancing. Cheesy as it sounds, it was honestly one of my favorite things we did in Udaipur and I couldn't help but buy a pair of Rajasthani puppets to remember my time there.
Our next day included a sunrise stroll through the city and along the lake. To say it was lovely is a bit of an understatement but it was. The mist rose off the lake and everything had that orange glow that only happens once a day. Of course the moment was dampened a bit from having to dodge around cows and manure but it was still peaceful and just what we needed before going to gawk at the amazing City Palace. Much like Jaipur's, it is luxurious beyond imagine and the current king still uses the old portion for parties. In fact, you can rent it out for several hundred thousand rupees for a night if you want your wedding there. At least the number you call to do so is toll free.
After admiring the cage where the King used to keep his tigers, the ornate stables where the horses were kept, and the elephant dueling ground, we spent the rest of the afternoon gearing up for our overnight train ride to Delhi. Mostly this meant going to an all-you-can-eat restaurant and gorging ourselves on delicious curries and chapattis to last us until the morning. And believe me, I wasn't hungry for 18 hours afterwards.
The train journey itself was fine aside from an interruption at 2AM as a man confused his compartment and demanded I show him our tickets. But at least he apologized profusely. Oh yeah, and the bugs crawling all over the floor but I prefer to supress that particular memory. And I was a bit sad to be leaving the relative peace of Rajasthan and entering the chaos of Delhi. I didn't feel prepared to face it again and judging by the nervous looks on my friend's faces as we pulled into the station, neither were they. And of course, right from the start, Delhi sucked us in. We were literally pushed off the train and out of the station by the swelling crowd and found ourselves in a taxi bound for the International Youth Hostel. We chose the hostel precisely because it was off the beaten track and was set in the lush, tree-covered lanes where all of the Embassies in the city were. But we arrived at 7:30AM only to discover that we couldn't check in until 11AM and they wouldn't even let us keep our bags in the hostel until then. There was no way we were lugging our backpacks with us. My own bag had doubled in size over the last two days and I'm fairly certain it's a bad sign if your arms go numb while carrying your pack. And there was literally no restaurant or coffee shop nearby where we could relax until then.
Sadly, we were forced to do the thing I had been trying to avoid: find a hostel in the infamous Pahar Ganj neighborhood. We found one, that was cheap but a place I wouldn't mind never seeing again. We also found the place in India where all of the scary, hippy backpackers end up. I mean, up until this point, our fellow tourists tended to be young like us and similarly outfitted. But in Delhi we saw fifty year olds who looked as though they had landed in Pahar Ganj decades ago and just never left. I haven't seen that many white dreadlocks in my life or that many dirty rucksacks lining the tables of street cafes before. On the plus side, we did meet "James Bond," an Indian auto driver who was convinced I looked like Angelina Jolie. I told him it's only because I'm white to which he replied "well yes, all white people look like celebrities." If only that were true.
After dropping our bags off at the hostel, we hopped onto Delhi's metro which is probably my favorite thing about the city. Clean, air-conditioned, and not too crowded, it is the only way to travel without getting hassled. We got off at an open-air market where life again started to look up. Bargaining has become a favorite pasttime of mine and I managed to snag a few deals. After that we met up with a friend of our Indian friend who took us to one of Delhi's many luxury malls. It was weird in the span of three hours to see such different sides of Delhi. While cruising in an air-conditioned car, Delhi really didn't seem so bad. Until you looked out the window and noticed the amount of people begging or the grit of the city. Even passing monuments like the Parlaiment, the streets would be in better repair, lined with trees and lovely, and then you would turn a corner and see a tent city. Poverty is something you get used to living here but then again, Hyderabad doesn't seem to have it to the same extent as Delhi. I'm ashamed to admit it but I've become accustomed to passively seeing things in India that would disturb me in the US, but at least for a while, Delhi jarred me out of this complacency and reminded me a bit of why I am here in the first place.
The rest of our time in Delhi passed almost pleasantly as we explored what monuments we could, including the beautiful but crowded India Gate dominating a grassy stretch of pedestiran walkway runnning to Parlaiment and best seen at sunset. We also spent several hours just relaxing in a grassy park, playing card games until a security guard told us no gambling was allowed in the park. We tried to explain that "Go Fish" isn't exactly a gambling game but decided it was best just to leave it anyway.
As we said goodbye to the city and headed to the airport, I was finally able to take a moment to reflect on the craziness of the last eight days. And I decided that I had probably just had one of the most intense yet fulfilling eight days of my life. I've traveled a fair share and seen some amazing things in the past but India is a different ballgame entirely. You learn to turn assumptions on their head here and you also learn quite quickly that this is a country that can balance extremes in a way no other place in the world can. And despite the headaches, frustration, and anxiety that may come along with the trip, you realize that these are also the things that make travel great. So while I am glad to be back in Hyderabad, I'm already looking forward to my next chance to explore this crazy, intricate country. Next up? Hopefully some elephant riding!
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