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...
Monday, October 17, 2011
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!
Monday, October 3, 2011
Chalo! Part 1
You know that feeling when you're traveling, right? That touch of adrenaline laced with anxiety, and colored slightly by wonder at all the new things you are seeing. It is off of this travel high and between forced power outages by the Telegana that I am finally updating my blog. So bear with me if I wax nostalgic or go on at length about something that really doesn't interest you. Because as they say, travel changes you and how you look at the world, even if just for a split second.
The trip started too early for me to want to think about it. Awake by 4:30, on a plane to Delhi by 6:30, fighting with the traffic by 8AM. We were fairly certain we'd have no trouble getting a bus straight away to Agra to see the Taj Mahal in the evening, as we didn't really want to linger in Delhi if we could help it. Of course, by the time we reached the bus station, all of the rickshaw drivers were telling us we were at the wrong station and had to go to another one. We finally gave in and the five of us crammed into one rickshaw, swaying through the dusty streets in an intense heat. But of course, we had fallen for a classic scam and the rickshaw deposited us at one of the many half-baked "travel agencies" in the city, despite having just read a warning about this very tactic ten minutes before.
At this point, we did something I'm not entirely proud of. We gave up. With some hard-core negotiating, we ended up hiring a private car to drive us the few hours to Agra, having been unable to find a bus, train, or even donkey cart to take us there otherwise. So, after two hours of waiting by the bus station, eating street food, weaving in and out of beggars and commuters alike, and cursing Delhi all the while, we hopped in the car to Agra, hopeful that things would get back on track for the rest of the trip.
We arrived in the teeming streets of Agra at sunset, a mere six hours later than we had planned. It made sense to go straight to our hostel and try and replan our whole trip than do anything else. At the rooftop restaurant and bar where you could just barely see the dim outline of the Taj Mahal in the dusky distance, the prospect of actually seeing the most beautiful building in the world finally got us a bit excited and helped wash the taste of Delhi out of our mouths. So we set our alarms for 6AM and made an effort to put on a more positive attitude for the morning.
Dawn in Agra and already it was warm out. At least most of the other tourists were still asleep. We met a guide along the way, Sunny, and decided he was probably worth the 400 rupee price so we could actually appreciate our time there. And before I knew it or had time to prepare myself, we were walking into the East entrance of the complex. And then I saw it, through the red door of the main entrace, glimmering white and huge in the hazy sunlight. To say I got chills when I first saw the Taj or had a bit of an emotional experience really isn't a lie. And every one of my friends felt the same way. It's grand, overwhelming and decidedly delicate at the same time.
The moment didn't last long though as tourists were shoving each other out of the way to get the best pictures and darting with their guides from one patch of shade to another as he explained about the building. Yet as Sunny proceeded on his tour, discussing the optical illusions of the Taj and the history of the ulimate monument to love, the crowd didn't really diminish the experience. Instead, it seemed to add importance to the moment, even if I had to try my best to avert my eyes at the tiles missing from inside the masoleum because tourists had stolen them.
Soon, the sun became too hot and it was time to leave the growing hoard of photographers in the complex. After the Taj, reality in the streets of Agra seemed a bit surreal. I was pulled back in before long though as we rushed to the bus station to grab the first bus out to Jaipur, wanting to escape the hustlers of Agra. Of course, as luck would have it, the only bus available was non A/C, full, and not the cleanest thing in the world. The four of us girls were shoved up to the top deck where there was a sort of double person bed above the normal seats. At least we had a fairly nice breeze blowing on us for the next five hours but I could definitely do without the being unable to completely sit up or the stench or the reststop too terrible to mention that followed. No matter, because we arrived in Jaipur in the evening and life again started to look up.
First of all, our hostel was gorgeous and light and airy, with an amazing rooftoop bar and restaurant overlooking the whole city. And it was incredibly cheap, always a plus. Secondly, Jaipur just felt friendly, in a way that you can't really describe, but that you just know it is. People said hello, were curious about us without being pushy, and seemed concerned that we enjoy ourselves. We were also lucky enough to have a friend in the city who showed us around a bit and fed us dinner and wine so we had no reason to complain.
In the morning we awoke after a bit less sleep than we had planned on but we were determined to cram the sights the city had to offer in one day, which was all we had. So we hired a driver/ tour guide for the day and set out into the sun to explore the royal pink city. Now Jaipur is a special place. It was once one of the wealthiest cities in India, is now the capital of Rajasthan, and is the seat of a royal Maharaja. Oh yeah, and it houses palaces beyond imagine and the whole old city is painted a distinct shade of pink. There was a lot to do and see in a short amount of time.
First stop was the museum which dominated the center of town and was an architectural gem. Having only budgeted about 30 minutes, we blew through the galleries of pottery, statues, royal armor, mummies, and ivory carved sculptures but I got the idea that Jaipur is just a bit important... Then it was back in the car to see the Hawal Mahal, an ornately carved palace towering over the old city built just so the ladies of the royal family could observe life in the streets without being seen themselves. It was one of my favorite places and reminded me a bit of a honey comb and gingerbread house all rolled into one. But it was the views over the city and the scrubby mountains in the distance that made it incredible.
Next up was the nearby Jantar Mantar, the royal observatory housing centuries-old sundials and astrological calculators to help the king decide on his plan of action. I felt like I was in Alice in Wonderland or an Escher painting amongst the stairs leading to nowhere. This surreal experience was made more complete as I almost tripped over a snake charmer and his cobras on the way out. I definitely made a fast exit after that!
After lunch at a roadside cafe, we made the trek up to the Amber Fort, the historic palace that saw many a Maharaja and his queens over the centuries. On the hillside overhead was a 10 foot thick wall surrounding the current home of the 13 year old Prince of Jaipur. I realized I needed to make some friends pretty quickly if I wanted to live this royal lifestyle. And after entering the fort and walking through the ornately colored and decorated Ganesh portal, I was more and more certain I should have been born royalty. That is until I saw the carved windows that the Queen used to watch the people below without being seen herself. Being a woman, even in the royal household, seemed to mean you were hidden away from everyone. Maybe not the best way to live. But anyway, the palace itself was massive and beautiful, with the winter rooms lined with thousands of tiny mirrors that would reflect the color of it tapestries in the light, giving the rooms a hue of blue or green or red depending on your mood. Also interesting were the separate rooms, jacuzzis and secret passageways to each of the multiple wives' compounds so the King could roam between them in peace. But of course, once again, the best part of the whole thing was the view down below. From the rooftop where there was a dance floor for private perfomances, one could see way into the distant mountains and down below to the lake and ornately manicured garden.
After that, we were overwhelmed with sightseeing and I realized that there was probably little in this world that could impress me anymore. So, shopping time it was. And despite getting hassled a bit more than we were used to given our tourist status, I managed to hold my own and am now an expert at the classic haggle and walk-away. I'll teach you sometime. But too soon, the sun was going down and we staggered back to the hostel for one last night in Jaipur and prepared to face the road again.
To be continued...
The trip started too early for me to want to think about it. Awake by 4:30, on a plane to Delhi by 6:30, fighting with the traffic by 8AM. We were fairly certain we'd have no trouble getting a bus straight away to Agra to see the Taj Mahal in the evening, as we didn't really want to linger in Delhi if we could help it. Of course, by the time we reached the bus station, all of the rickshaw drivers were telling us we were at the wrong station and had to go to another one. We finally gave in and the five of us crammed into one rickshaw, swaying through the dusty streets in an intense heat. But of course, we had fallen for a classic scam and the rickshaw deposited us at one of the many half-baked "travel agencies" in the city, despite having just read a warning about this very tactic ten minutes before.
At this point, we did something I'm not entirely proud of. We gave up. With some hard-core negotiating, we ended up hiring a private car to drive us the few hours to Agra, having been unable to find a bus, train, or even donkey cart to take us there otherwise. So, after two hours of waiting by the bus station, eating street food, weaving in and out of beggars and commuters alike, and cursing Delhi all the while, we hopped in the car to Agra, hopeful that things would get back on track for the rest of the trip.
We arrived in the teeming streets of Agra at sunset, a mere six hours later than we had planned. It made sense to go straight to our hostel and try and replan our whole trip than do anything else. At the rooftop restaurant and bar where you could just barely see the dim outline of the Taj Mahal in the dusky distance, the prospect of actually seeing the most beautiful building in the world finally got us a bit excited and helped wash the taste of Delhi out of our mouths. So we set our alarms for 6AM and made an effort to put on a more positive attitude for the morning.
Dawn in Agra and already it was warm out. At least most of the other tourists were still asleep. We met a guide along the way, Sunny, and decided he was probably worth the 400 rupee price so we could actually appreciate our time there. And before I knew it or had time to prepare myself, we were walking into the East entrance of the complex. And then I saw it, through the red door of the main entrace, glimmering white and huge in the hazy sunlight. To say I got chills when I first saw the Taj or had a bit of an emotional experience really isn't a lie. And every one of my friends felt the same way. It's grand, overwhelming and decidedly delicate at the same time.
The moment didn't last long though as tourists were shoving each other out of the way to get the best pictures and darting with their guides from one patch of shade to another as he explained about the building. Yet as Sunny proceeded on his tour, discussing the optical illusions of the Taj and the history of the ulimate monument to love, the crowd didn't really diminish the experience. Instead, it seemed to add importance to the moment, even if I had to try my best to avert my eyes at the tiles missing from inside the masoleum because tourists had stolen them.
Soon, the sun became too hot and it was time to leave the growing hoard of photographers in the complex. After the Taj, reality in the streets of Agra seemed a bit surreal. I was pulled back in before long though as we rushed to the bus station to grab the first bus out to Jaipur, wanting to escape the hustlers of Agra. Of course, as luck would have it, the only bus available was non A/C, full, and not the cleanest thing in the world. The four of us girls were shoved up to the top deck where there was a sort of double person bed above the normal seats. At least we had a fairly nice breeze blowing on us for the next five hours but I could definitely do without the being unable to completely sit up or the stench or the reststop too terrible to mention that followed. No matter, because we arrived in Jaipur in the evening and life again started to look up.
First of all, our hostel was gorgeous and light and airy, with an amazing rooftoop bar and restaurant overlooking the whole city. And it was incredibly cheap, always a plus. Secondly, Jaipur just felt friendly, in a way that you can't really describe, but that you just know it is. People said hello, were curious about us without being pushy, and seemed concerned that we enjoy ourselves. We were also lucky enough to have a friend in the city who showed us around a bit and fed us dinner and wine so we had no reason to complain.
In the morning we awoke after a bit less sleep than we had planned on but we were determined to cram the sights the city had to offer in one day, which was all we had. So we hired a driver/ tour guide for the day and set out into the sun to explore the royal pink city. Now Jaipur is a special place. It was once one of the wealthiest cities in India, is now the capital of Rajasthan, and is the seat of a royal Maharaja. Oh yeah, and it houses palaces beyond imagine and the whole old city is painted a distinct shade of pink. There was a lot to do and see in a short amount of time.
First stop was the museum which dominated the center of town and was an architectural gem. Having only budgeted about 30 minutes, we blew through the galleries of pottery, statues, royal armor, mummies, and ivory carved sculptures but I got the idea that Jaipur is just a bit important... Then it was back in the car to see the Hawal Mahal, an ornately carved palace towering over the old city built just so the ladies of the royal family could observe life in the streets without being seen themselves. It was one of my favorite places and reminded me a bit of a honey comb and gingerbread house all rolled into one. But it was the views over the city and the scrubby mountains in the distance that made it incredible.
Next up was the nearby Jantar Mantar, the royal observatory housing centuries-old sundials and astrological calculators to help the king decide on his plan of action. I felt like I was in Alice in Wonderland or an Escher painting amongst the stairs leading to nowhere. This surreal experience was made more complete as I almost tripped over a snake charmer and his cobras on the way out. I definitely made a fast exit after that!
After lunch at a roadside cafe, we made the trek up to the Amber Fort, the historic palace that saw many a Maharaja and his queens over the centuries. On the hillside overhead was a 10 foot thick wall surrounding the current home of the 13 year old Prince of Jaipur. I realized I needed to make some friends pretty quickly if I wanted to live this royal lifestyle. And after entering the fort and walking through the ornately colored and decorated Ganesh portal, I was more and more certain I should have been born royalty. That is until I saw the carved windows that the Queen used to watch the people below without being seen herself. Being a woman, even in the royal household, seemed to mean you were hidden away from everyone. Maybe not the best way to live. But anyway, the palace itself was massive and beautiful, with the winter rooms lined with thousands of tiny mirrors that would reflect the color of it tapestries in the light, giving the rooms a hue of blue or green or red depending on your mood. Also interesting were the separate rooms, jacuzzis and secret passageways to each of the multiple wives' compounds so the King could roam between them in peace. But of course, once again, the best part of the whole thing was the view down below. From the rooftop where there was a dance floor for private perfomances, one could see way into the distant mountains and down below to the lake and ornately manicured garden.
After that, we were overwhelmed with sightseeing and I realized that there was probably little in this world that could impress me anymore. So, shopping time it was. And despite getting hassled a bit more than we were used to given our tourist status, I managed to hold my own and am now an expert at the classic haggle and walk-away. I'll teach you sometime. But too soon, the sun was going down and we staggered back to the hostel for one last night in Jaipur and prepared to face the road again.
To be continued...
Monday, September 19, 2011
You are Christian, Madam?
Once again, the afternoon call to prayer outside of our flat is cause for some introspection on my part. I realize that in this blog to date, I have spoken of my experiences with Ramzan and briefly outlined some Hindu traditions but I think it's time to explain a bit more about the way religion functions in India. Despite its status as a secular state, religious traditions of all types permeate every aspect of life in India, but in some ways you wouldn't expect.
A new friend of mine, recently arrived to the country, was surprised by the fact that I have Muslim friends who also will share a table with my Hindu friends. I was a bit taken aback by this shock. I mean, growing up with what I would see as a fairly diverse group of friends, this isn't exactly an anomaly. But the way that we view religion in the west, especially Islam, is colored a bit differently than things are here.
For starters, let's take the burkha. Most Americans see it as a means of oppression or at least don't quite understand the sentiment behind it. But I also think most would be suprised to visit my school where the teachers walk in wearing burkhas but immediately take them off to reveal beautiful sarees underneath. Instead, the burkha is treated similarly to how we would treat wearing a jacket from place to place, and is just a part of the daily routine. That is not to say that there are not plenty of women who wear only the burkha in public, but for the most part, one's religious identity here is a fluid concept. I know plenty of Muslim women who wouldn't be caught dead in anything but the newest designer jeans and trendiest shoes and who have hardly worn a headscarf a day in their life. Just like I know Hindus who scoff at the idea of wearing a saree to anything but a wedding. To be Hindu or Muslim or Sikh is a fact of life and not necessarily the end all or be all of a person's identity and doesn't necessarily define every action you take.
One of the first questions I was asked by the students in my school was my religion and whether or not we fast like Muslims or Hindus do. Of course, it's easier to just say Christian than to try and explain the complicated nature of my religious identity. And when I told them that fasting isn't exactly something I have ever done in my life, they were shocked. Because following religious traditions comes as naturally to them as taking Labor Day off from work for us does, even if someone chooses to do so by different degrees. No one blinks at the fact that school is a half day every Friday for prayers or closed on a random Tuesday for a celebration of the god Ganesh. Talk about coexistance to the extreme.
Similarly, when it comes to food, you have all of the options in the world. 'Veg or nonveg' is always asked because some Hindus won't eat meat, some Muslims won't eat pork but there are a fair share of people (like ourselves) who are just plain carnivores. And no one judges anyone else for their decisions. There might be a meat shop nearby a Hindu temple and no one really gets put off by that. Can you imagine the controversy in the States if a McDonalds opened right next door to a Hindu temple? Let's just say there would definitely be some legal suites pending...
Of course, India has had its fair share of religious violence and this is not to imply that the country has found the right way to deal with such pluarality. But there is something to be said while I watch the Hindu and Muslim girls at my school gossip with one another, share food, and respect each other's religious and cultural differences. So much about what we fear in the west is the unknown, "the other," and this xenofobia is often directly connected to religious identity. Yet it's hard to fear someone when they are your neighbor, classmate, or friend. Tolerance, even if a function of proximity and necessity, really is something to see here. Still though, don't expect to see me fasting any time soon. There's definitely a Dal Fry somewhere nearby always calling my name.
A new friend of mine, recently arrived to the country, was surprised by the fact that I have Muslim friends who also will share a table with my Hindu friends. I was a bit taken aback by this shock. I mean, growing up with what I would see as a fairly diverse group of friends, this isn't exactly an anomaly. But the way that we view religion in the west, especially Islam, is colored a bit differently than things are here.
For starters, let's take the burkha. Most Americans see it as a means of oppression or at least don't quite understand the sentiment behind it. But I also think most would be suprised to visit my school where the teachers walk in wearing burkhas but immediately take them off to reveal beautiful sarees underneath. Instead, the burkha is treated similarly to how we would treat wearing a jacket from place to place, and is just a part of the daily routine. That is not to say that there are not plenty of women who wear only the burkha in public, but for the most part, one's religious identity here is a fluid concept. I know plenty of Muslim women who wouldn't be caught dead in anything but the newest designer jeans and trendiest shoes and who have hardly worn a headscarf a day in their life. Just like I know Hindus who scoff at the idea of wearing a saree to anything but a wedding. To be Hindu or Muslim or Sikh is a fact of life and not necessarily the end all or be all of a person's identity and doesn't necessarily define every action you take.
One of the first questions I was asked by the students in my school was my religion and whether or not we fast like Muslims or Hindus do. Of course, it's easier to just say Christian than to try and explain the complicated nature of my religious identity. And when I told them that fasting isn't exactly something I have ever done in my life, they were shocked. Because following religious traditions comes as naturally to them as taking Labor Day off from work for us does, even if someone chooses to do so by different degrees. No one blinks at the fact that school is a half day every Friday for prayers or closed on a random Tuesday for a celebration of the god Ganesh. Talk about coexistance to the extreme.
Similarly, when it comes to food, you have all of the options in the world. 'Veg or nonveg' is always asked because some Hindus won't eat meat, some Muslims won't eat pork but there are a fair share of people (like ourselves) who are just plain carnivores. And no one judges anyone else for their decisions. There might be a meat shop nearby a Hindu temple and no one really gets put off by that. Can you imagine the controversy in the States if a McDonalds opened right next door to a Hindu temple? Let's just say there would definitely be some legal suites pending...
Of course, India has had its fair share of religious violence and this is not to imply that the country has found the right way to deal with such pluarality. But there is something to be said while I watch the Hindu and Muslim girls at my school gossip with one another, share food, and respect each other's religious and cultural differences. So much about what we fear in the west is the unknown, "the other," and this xenofobia is often directly connected to religious identity. Yet it's hard to fear someone when they are your neighbor, classmate, or friend. Tolerance, even if a function of proximity and necessity, really is something to see here. Still though, don't expect to see me fasting any time soon. There's definitely a Dal Fry somewhere nearby always calling my name.
Monday, September 12, 2011
From Polo to Performances
Okay first let me just apologize for being a horrible blogger these last two weeks. But you know, life in India isn't all about sitting on the computer despite what my constant facebooking may suggest. I mean I've been busy! You know, with the usual: going to school, research for projects, interviews, riding horses, watching polo, sleeping, eating. Oh wait, I guess a few things on that list do stand out a bit, so let me start from the start.
First of all, due to Eid, I had quite a few days off of school which meant I actually had free time. So I decided to go with a few friends out to ride at the Hyderabad Polo and Riding Club. It does seem that no matter where I go or what I do, I find horses. Or rather, they find me. And who am I to pass that up? Anyway, I went riding, which was fun although I was stuck on a lesson horse that hates life. And we kept cantering by jumps that, of course, I was itching to jump. But my self control got the better of me and I refrained from possibly making my horse lame.
After riding, my friends and I were about to leave when a car pulled up and out walked the brand new HPRC polo team and a blonde Brit. Seeing two Americans must have surprised him because he walked up and introduced himself to us and starting asking what we were doing there. When we expressed an interest in watching a polo practice, he suggested that we come to a game that weekend, and even better, to the press conference and photo shoot where the new team would be announced. Why not? I figured at the very least, it would give me something fun to do while most of my friends were partying it up in Goa, and besides, I can never refuse an invitation that involves horse riding.
The next day, me and two of my friends showed up at the 5 star Taj Krishna hotel and were completely taken aback by the number of photographers buzzing around. Polo is not exactly a well-known sport in America, and the press generally would rather write about a new political scandal than about a team galloping around the field at high speeds and attempting to score points. So needless to say, the swarm, who also took pictures of us, was surprising. The reason for the madness became clear as the owner of the team, a famous Tollywood actor, appeared and the photographers were literally yelling and pushing each other out of the way to get a picture of him. I didn't even see that much jostling around when I heard Obama speak.
By this point, my interest was piqued in polo. I mean, it's a sport on horseback, dangerous, and thus highly entertaining, and the best part is that it is played outside on a huge grassy field, which is, of course, something I miss. Greenery is not exactly a Hyderabadi thing. So on Saturday, we headed out for the first match of the season, which runs about 20 days, and it was intense. Mallets swinging, horses and riders bumping into each other, plenty of adrenaline. The horses were incredible and since we had made friends with the team, we were allowed to sit over by them which is definitely the best place to see and hear what exactly is going on. Thoughts of starting a women's polo team started creeping into my head but after seeing how fast the game is played, maybe I'll just stick to some cross-country jumping instead.
Aside from my polo shenanigans though, school has been great fun these last few weeks. Last Monday was Teacher's Day and while I didn't quite make it to get a Saree, it was still a blast to watch the 10th standard girls don their own sarees and teach classes while the teachers observed. The best part had to be the dances at the end of the day where I got to see everyone from 4th graders to 9th graders showing off their moves to Bollywood and Telegu songs. Thank goodness I was able to just be an observer for this. They even gave me a present like the other teachers which was sweet. Thank goodness they nixed the idea of having a student dress up like me and be an IDEX Fellow for a day. I can't imagine trying to get them to understand how to create a business plan on my laptop or teach another student about logarithms while being told how to say them in Hindi (yes that actually happened).
Okay now at least I feel like I have completed my duty of being a mediocre blogger. Stay tuned for more random, weird, and wonderful Hyderabadi shenanigans. Until next time...
First of all, due to Eid, I had quite a few days off of school which meant I actually had free time. So I decided to go with a few friends out to ride at the Hyderabad Polo and Riding Club. It does seem that no matter where I go or what I do, I find horses. Or rather, they find me. And who am I to pass that up? Anyway, I went riding, which was fun although I was stuck on a lesson horse that hates life. And we kept cantering by jumps that, of course, I was itching to jump. But my self control got the better of me and I refrained from possibly making my horse lame.
After riding, my friends and I were about to leave when a car pulled up and out walked the brand new HPRC polo team and a blonde Brit. Seeing two Americans must have surprised him because he walked up and introduced himself to us and starting asking what we were doing there. When we expressed an interest in watching a polo practice, he suggested that we come to a game that weekend, and even better, to the press conference and photo shoot where the new team would be announced. Why not? I figured at the very least, it would give me something fun to do while most of my friends were partying it up in Goa, and besides, I can never refuse an invitation that involves horse riding.
The next day, me and two of my friends showed up at the 5 star Taj Krishna hotel and were completely taken aback by the number of photographers buzzing around. Polo is not exactly a well-known sport in America, and the press generally would rather write about a new political scandal than about a team galloping around the field at high speeds and attempting to score points. So needless to say, the swarm, who also took pictures of us, was surprising. The reason for the madness became clear as the owner of the team, a famous Tollywood actor, appeared and the photographers were literally yelling and pushing each other out of the way to get a picture of him. I didn't even see that much jostling around when I heard Obama speak.
By this point, my interest was piqued in polo. I mean, it's a sport on horseback, dangerous, and thus highly entertaining, and the best part is that it is played outside on a huge grassy field, which is, of course, something I miss. Greenery is not exactly a Hyderabadi thing. So on Saturday, we headed out for the first match of the season, which runs about 20 days, and it was intense. Mallets swinging, horses and riders bumping into each other, plenty of adrenaline. The horses were incredible and since we had made friends with the team, we were allowed to sit over by them which is definitely the best place to see and hear what exactly is going on. Thoughts of starting a women's polo team started creeping into my head but after seeing how fast the game is played, maybe I'll just stick to some cross-country jumping instead.
Aside from my polo shenanigans though, school has been great fun these last few weeks. Last Monday was Teacher's Day and while I didn't quite make it to get a Saree, it was still a blast to watch the 10th standard girls don their own sarees and teach classes while the teachers observed. The best part had to be the dances at the end of the day where I got to see everyone from 4th graders to 9th graders showing off their moves to Bollywood and Telegu songs. Thank goodness I was able to just be an observer for this. They even gave me a present like the other teachers which was sweet. Thank goodness they nixed the idea of having a student dress up like me and be an IDEX Fellow for a day. I can't imagine trying to get them to understand how to create a business plan on my laptop or teach another student about logarithms while being told how to say them in Hindi (yes that actually happened).
Okay now at least I feel like I have completed my duty of being a mediocre blogger. Stay tuned for more random, weird, and wonderful Hyderabadi shenanigans. Until next time...
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