I am finishing the last leg of my trip in Agra, the home of the Taj Mahal and the Agra Fort. I was worried that leaving the Taj until the end of my trip would be a mistake, that I would be all toured out and bored with India. But that wasn't true at all. The Taj Mahal is just as magnificent as I hoped it would be and I was not disappointed. I was a little surprised at the size, of course. From the front it appears to be a huge structure, but when you get inside you see that it is simply a mausoleum with a really, really high ceiling. I took a bunch of pictures and I will post them to facebook soon and leave you all with a link to view them.
After visiting the Taj I returned to my hotel to take a nap. I couldn't sleep the night before due to a combination of excitement and the noise of a construction crew, still going strong at midnight right above my room. The hotel I am staying at doesn't hold a match to the other hotels and guesthouses I have been to in India. I was in a room for two nights until I noticed a curious section of one wall that seemed to be open to a room next door. It's a little hard to explain, but the wall was wood paneling with one inch gaps and screening between. At one point I saw a light from the other room and realized that my room gave the workmen's storage room full view of whatever was going on in my room. I immediately pointed this out to the guy at the front desk and only after asking if he had a daughter, sister or wife did he seriously think about switching my room. The second room was a slight upgrade. The toilet has a seat and the room has a small window. That'll do.
The day before my birthday I splurged and spent the day at the pool of a nearby three star hotel. For the last ten weeks my bathing suit shoved at the bottom of my back pack looked like a preposterous waste of space. I probably would have thrown it out back at Gram Chetna if it wasn't mildly expensive and fairly cute. But I finally made use of it and the day was great. For the small fortune it took to get into the pool as a nonguest, I resigned myself to spend the entire day there, swimming and lounging about. Muna gave me her sunblock before leaving Udaipur and I apparently put a little too much faith in the label advertising the product as water resistant. So, for my pictures in front of the Taj Mahal I am wearing a long sleeved t-shirt under my tunic shirt to cover my sunburn. For generations my progeny will pass down photos of their mother, aunt, great aunt, or whatever else looking like a wreck in front of one of the most beautiful monuments on the planet. Ha ha. Oh well.
So that's all the news for now. I only have three days left in India, one day left in Agra. Tomorrow morning I will board a train at 7:35 a.m. and arrive at the New Delhi Rail Station in the late morning. I have about two days in Delhi before heading to the airport. Those two days will be spent buying souvenirs for my friends and loved ones. Souvenir shopping is one of the hardest things for me to do. After spending two and a half months in this country, I can hardly bring myself to pay the inflated tourist prices in Delhi. This is one of those things I shouldn't have waited till last minute to do. But I did wait, now I am forced to haggle and haggle hard.
Later gators!
MCC
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
No hurry, no worry, no chicken curry.
I decided to break out the dusty laptop and pre-write an entry about my days in Jaisalmer. Five days is way too long to spend in this desert town if a girl is in a rush to see as much of India as she can. But I am in no rush, so I have happily and lazily spent five (!!!) days here, sleeping in every morning, drinking chai whenever I please, and chatting with the two brothers who own the place. Actually, my first two days here were spent in the fetal position under a wimpy blanket in my room and didn’t really count. I thought I had malaria and that’s why I went to the hospital. If I knew it was just a really strong and persistent bug I would have made myself sweat it out like normal. But I must say the antibiotics did wonders and I was quickly back to my old self.
Jaisalmer is one of the only cities (it might actually be the only city) in India with what is called a living fort. This means that people still live, and businesses and hotels still operate within the fort. The fort itself is suffering major problems with drainage, and has begun to fall apart. Lonely Planet recommends travelers do not stay in hotels or eat in restaurants within the fort’s walls for this reason. Luckily the owner of the guesthouse I stayed at in Udaipur recommended a hotel for me in Jaisalmer, and it happens to be just outside the fort. It’s awesome and the owners (the two brothers mentioned above) are very nice and friendly.
The guys who work in the local shops try to lure tourists in by engaging them in polite conversation, usually beginning by asking what country the tourist is from. Since I arrived in India, I have been mainly ignoring everyone who tries to talk to me. But in the last few weeks I’ve simply gotten sick of acting like a bitch all the time. It’s tiring! I’m an unconscious smile-er and an accidental flirt so the ignoring game doesn’t come naturally and it wears me down. So on this particular day, I gave in. I said I was from America and the young man, whose mane is Kusi, told me that his girlfriend is from America, too! He then brought me into his shop for chai and told me the whole story. She had come to India for a friend’s wedding in January and traveled for a few days in Jaisalmer. He even showed me pictures of their trip to the desert and a letter she wrote him explaining why things “didn’t work out”. After he thoroughly explained how broken his heart was, he asked me to write a letter for him to her and mail it from my home. So I wrote a letter to Catherine in California about how much Kusi misses her, and how often he thinks of her.
Poor girl! She thought she was just having a sweet, innocent two day flirtation with a cute Indian boy. It’s now seven months later and he still doesn’t get the hint. The letter is in my purse pocket after I promised I would mail it. Part of me wants to just lose it and save the girl from more harassment, but the other part knows I will keep my promise. Man oh man. These Indian boys and their romantic love!
In other news, yesterday I went on a half day camel safari in the Thar Desert. Even though Muna, the girl from Jordan I met in Udaipur, told me I had to see the desert, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to Rural India. But I had met another American (the first American I’ve met in India) and he was going, and asked if I wanted to come. He was tagging along with a large group of Spaniards and I think he wanted the American company. I hesitated, but in the end, it was something to do, the price was right and food was involved. Those are apparently my standards these days.
At this point I need to tell you that riding a camel in the desert is not nearly as glamorous as it ever appears on television or in movies. I know you’re all thinking, “Well, of course not. Duh” But honestly, I have never been more uncomfortable in my life. My days horseback riding in Girl Scout camp did not prepare me for any of what I experienced yesterday. All in all, I’d have to say the fleas were the worst part. I was convinced they were getting into my hair and clothes and laying eggs. I spent the first third of the trip strategizing how I would get into my hotel room without them take over the place. The second third I spent obsessing and tugging my rain jacket hood close to my head, and by the final third I had given up.
After the safari bit we did the whole awkward village visit where the Spaniards took pictures of the sari-clad women and scraggily-haired children. It’s funny that it took me to the middle of the Thar Desert with a bunch of tourists to realize how unique of an experience I received at Gram Chetna. The tourists were taking pictures of things I had seen every day for the last two months. Dirty children, click. People riding on the top of a bus, click. Camels pulling carts, click. Despite the problems I had and the reasons I left, through my internship I was able to see and experience a side of India that many people only dream about. That really is awesome.
But of course, anything planned, paid for, and involving food in India comes with problems and long waits. The other American, whose name is Ravi, was also working for an NGO during the summer and he knew the drill. But the Spaniards, unfortunately, did not. The nonsense involved was so little, and not a big deal to me or Ravi. Basically, our dinner consisted of eating another tour group’s leftovers in the dark. I wasn’t picky at that point; I was so hungry I would have eaten stale chapatti and cold daal! But the Spanish tourists were red faced and pissed. They were getting people on the phone, asking to talk to the manager, complaining about customer service. You don’t do that crap in India.
Ravi and I were quite embarrassed, Ravi more so that I. Ravi is of Indian descent and the Indian men running the place were trying to appeal and explain the situation to him. We both felt pretty bad about the whole thing, which was only resolved by Avinash (part owner of the hotel and the arranger of the tour) agreed to feed us when we got back to the hotel at eleven at night. By the next morning the situation seemed to have blown over. But as I am writing this in my room I am listening to them argue with the manager about the price of the safari and the availability of light in the desert. What a bag of assholes.
Tomorrow I am off on the night train to Jaipur. From there I will take a bus to Agra for the last leg of my adventure. I have one more week in India and although I am looking forward to coming home I am leaving India with fine memories. I have enough books to keep me entertained and my trip to the Taj Mahal keeps me looking forward to this final week.
Oh, did I mention that while on the camel I was 30 km from Pakistan? Pretty cool, huh?
Jaisalmer is one of the only cities (it might actually be the only city) in India with what is called a living fort. This means that people still live, and businesses and hotels still operate within the fort. The fort itself is suffering major problems with drainage, and has begun to fall apart. Lonely Planet recommends travelers do not stay in hotels or eat in restaurants within the fort’s walls for this reason. Luckily the owner of the guesthouse I stayed at in Udaipur recommended a hotel for me in Jaisalmer, and it happens to be just outside the fort. It’s awesome and the owners (the two brothers mentioned above) are very nice and friendly.
The guys who work in the local shops try to lure tourists in by engaging them in polite conversation, usually beginning by asking what country the tourist is from. Since I arrived in India, I have been mainly ignoring everyone who tries to talk to me. But in the last few weeks I’ve simply gotten sick of acting like a bitch all the time. It’s tiring! I’m an unconscious smile-er and an accidental flirt so the ignoring game doesn’t come naturally and it wears me down. So on this particular day, I gave in. I said I was from America and the young man, whose mane is Kusi, told me that his girlfriend is from America, too! He then brought me into his shop for chai and told me the whole story. She had come to India for a friend’s wedding in January and traveled for a few days in Jaisalmer. He even showed me pictures of their trip to the desert and a letter she wrote him explaining why things “didn’t work out”. After he thoroughly explained how broken his heart was, he asked me to write a letter for him to her and mail it from my home. So I wrote a letter to Catherine in California about how much Kusi misses her, and how often he thinks of her.
Poor girl! She thought she was just having a sweet, innocent two day flirtation with a cute Indian boy. It’s now seven months later and he still doesn’t get the hint. The letter is in my purse pocket after I promised I would mail it. Part of me wants to just lose it and save the girl from more harassment, but the other part knows I will keep my promise. Man oh man. These Indian boys and their romantic love!
In other news, yesterday I went on a half day camel safari in the Thar Desert. Even though Muna, the girl from Jordan I met in Udaipur, told me I had to see the desert, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to Rural India. But I had met another American (the first American I’ve met in India) and he was going, and asked if I wanted to come. He was tagging along with a large group of Spaniards and I think he wanted the American company. I hesitated, but in the end, it was something to do, the price was right and food was involved. Those are apparently my standards these days.
At this point I need to tell you that riding a camel in the desert is not nearly as glamorous as it ever appears on television or in movies. I know you’re all thinking, “Well, of course not. Duh” But honestly, I have never been more uncomfortable in my life. My days horseback riding in Girl Scout camp did not prepare me for any of what I experienced yesterday. All in all, I’d have to say the fleas were the worst part. I was convinced they were getting into my hair and clothes and laying eggs. I spent the first third of the trip strategizing how I would get into my hotel room without them take over the place. The second third I spent obsessing and tugging my rain jacket hood close to my head, and by the final third I had given up.
After the safari bit we did the whole awkward village visit where the Spaniards took pictures of the sari-clad women and scraggily-haired children. It’s funny that it took me to the middle of the Thar Desert with a bunch of tourists to realize how unique of an experience I received at Gram Chetna. The tourists were taking pictures of things I had seen every day for the last two months. Dirty children, click. People riding on the top of a bus, click. Camels pulling carts, click. Despite the problems I had and the reasons I left, through my internship I was able to see and experience a side of India that many people only dream about. That really is awesome.
But of course, anything planned, paid for, and involving food in India comes with problems and long waits. The other American, whose name is Ravi, was also working for an NGO during the summer and he knew the drill. But the Spaniards, unfortunately, did not. The nonsense involved was so little, and not a big deal to me or Ravi. Basically, our dinner consisted of eating another tour group’s leftovers in the dark. I wasn’t picky at that point; I was so hungry I would have eaten stale chapatti and cold daal! But the Spanish tourists were red faced and pissed. They were getting people on the phone, asking to talk to the manager, complaining about customer service. You don’t do that crap in India.
Ravi and I were quite embarrassed, Ravi more so that I. Ravi is of Indian descent and the Indian men running the place were trying to appeal and explain the situation to him. We both felt pretty bad about the whole thing, which was only resolved by Avinash (part owner of the hotel and the arranger of the tour) agreed to feed us when we got back to the hotel at eleven at night. By the next morning the situation seemed to have blown over. But as I am writing this in my room I am listening to them argue with the manager about the price of the safari and the availability of light in the desert. What a bag of assholes.
Tomorrow I am off on the night train to Jaipur. From there I will take a bus to Agra for the last leg of my adventure. I have one more week in India and although I am looking forward to coming home I am leaving India with fine memories. I have enough books to keep me entertained and my trip to the Taj Mahal keeps me looking forward to this final week.
Oh, did I mention that while on the camel I was 30 km from Pakistan? Pretty cool, huh?
Saturday, July 31, 2010
What's happening now!
So I feel I need to backpedal a little when it comes to what I said about Jodhpur. On first glance, the city is a dump. But over the course of my day there I started to like it. It kind of reminded me of Detroit a bit, if Detroit had an amazing fort on a hill. You know, generally dumpy but with remnants of a glorious past. I somehow found myself away from the main clock tower area in search of an alarm clock, and began picking up on the city's really cool vibe. Two days was just enough time there to grow to like it, but not get bored of it.
Now I'm in Jaisalmer, and Lonely Planet is right! This city is like a sand castle in the desert. The only problem is that I have been here for two days and have yet to go exploring. I've been horribly sick and I actually just got back from the hospital about 10 minutes ago. A blood test confirmed that it is not a blood disease, malaria or typhoid. So I was sent home with three days worth of antibiotics and a prayer.
Oddly enough, I'm already starting to feel better. My sinuses are draining, my fever is in check, and I'm feeling a strong appetite. My entire body is still sore so I'm off to lay down in a minute.
I can not wait to go check things out here! I'm glad I took a client's from my old job advice and came all the way over to this side of Rajasthan. It's so cool!
Now I'm in Jaisalmer, and Lonely Planet is right! This city is like a sand castle in the desert. The only problem is that I have been here for two days and have yet to go exploring. I've been horribly sick and I actually just got back from the hospital about 10 minutes ago. A blood test confirmed that it is not a blood disease, malaria or typhoid. So I was sent home with three days worth of antibiotics and a prayer.
Oddly enough, I'm already starting to feel better. My sinuses are draining, my fever is in check, and I'm feeling a strong appetite. My entire body is still sore so I'm off to lay down in a minute.
I can not wait to go check things out here! I'm glad I took a client's from my old job advice and came all the way over to this side of Rajasthan. It's so cool!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Jodhpur? No thanks.
Hello!
I arrived in Jodhpur yesterday afternoon after what seemed like the longest busride of my life. I called the day before and reserved a single room with a shared bathroom. I decided to share a bathroom because I spent way, way, way too much money in Udaipur and I wanted to cut back on my expenses. But the shared bathroom at this guesthouse was worse than the first floor bathroom at my younger brother's frat house, so I opted to upgrade and have my own toilet and shower.
Now, Jodhpur's main attraction is the Mehrangarh Fort. I went this morning, climbing up the back way through the blue neighborhoods because I'm that sort of traveler, or something. I opted for the audio guide because, apparently, I'm that sort of traveler, too. I have to say wearing the stupid headphones was worth it. The entire fort was impressive due to steps taken by the current Maharaja to care for and restore it.
Aside from the fort, Jodhpur is a dump. The roads are in bad shape even for India standards, and there is garbage, piss and crap (human and cow) everywhere. It's the type of place where one has to be very, very careful about the water. I bought two bottles of water, drank them both, got the stomach rumblies, and then realized it was "treated" tap water. Luckily I have a brick ishthouse immune system and so far, I'm doing okay. But just breathing the Jodhpur air makes me fear catching Typhoid fever.
So that's all. I'm doing well. And aside from a young man telling me he "wants to f*ck" me, not just once, but three times while riding past me on his motorbike, I'm in good spirits. My experience with men in India has now moved past the simple disgust at the burping, farting, hawking and spitting, pissing and shitting everywhere. And I still have two weeks in this country...
Gotta run!
MCC
P.S. Click here for pics from Udaipur!
I arrived in Jodhpur yesterday afternoon after what seemed like the longest busride of my life. I called the day before and reserved a single room with a shared bathroom. I decided to share a bathroom because I spent way, way, way too much money in Udaipur and I wanted to cut back on my expenses. But the shared bathroom at this guesthouse was worse than the first floor bathroom at my younger brother's frat house, so I opted to upgrade and have my own toilet and shower.
Now, Jodhpur's main attraction is the Mehrangarh Fort. I went this morning, climbing up the back way through the blue neighborhoods because I'm that sort of traveler, or something. I opted for the audio guide because, apparently, I'm that sort of traveler, too. I have to say wearing the stupid headphones was worth it. The entire fort was impressive due to steps taken by the current Maharaja to care for and restore it.
Aside from the fort, Jodhpur is a dump. The roads are in bad shape even for India standards, and there is garbage, piss and crap (human and cow) everywhere. It's the type of place where one has to be very, very careful about the water. I bought two bottles of water, drank them both, got the stomach rumblies, and then realized it was "treated" tap water. Luckily I have a brick ishthouse immune system and so far, I'm doing okay. But just breathing the Jodhpur air makes me fear catching Typhoid fever.
So that's all. I'm doing well. And aside from a young man telling me he "wants to f*ck" me, not just once, but three times while riding past me on his motorbike, I'm in good spirits. My experience with men in India has now moved past the simple disgust at the burping, farting, hawking and spitting, pissing and shitting everywhere. And I still have two weeks in this country...
Gotta run!
MCC
P.S. Click here for pics from Udaipur!
Monday, July 26, 2010
Udaipur is for Lovers
Hi!
I will try to write a coherent entry despite my excitement. I wrote something on my laptop thinking I would switch it to the guesthouse computer, but there is a rule of no USB drives for transferring documents. There is also a rule of no washing your own laundry in your room, but I did mine any way. You can take the girl out of Khedi Milak, but you can't take the Khedi Milak out of the girl...
Let me try to begin at the beginning. I left Jaipur on Friday on the night train to Udaipur. Before leaving the I met two other solo female travelers who were heading to the same train. We decided to share a rickshaw and we ended up hitting it off completely. One is from Spain, Angela, but living n Ecuador. She came to Mumbai for a friend's wedding and decided to do a bit of traveling afterward. The other girl is Moona and she comes from Jordan. She was teaching for a year in China and just made her way overland through Thailand, Cambodia and Nepal. She's one of the coolest people I have ever met. We ended up getting along so well we decided to share a room once we arrived in Udaipur.
So here we are. The first day here I wanted nothing more than to sit and read my book and drink a lot of chai. Nothing else. Period. So I did that, and the next day I hit the town for a bit, then spent a large portion of the day reading and drinking chai. It has rained a lot more in Udaipur than it ever did in Jaipur or the surrounding areas, so that has put a bit of a limitation on how much I've wanted to do.
Moona and I decided to have our palms read after having a brief conversation about men. It was a pretty ridiculous experience, but it was fun. I think she got a bit more out of it because she knew exactly what she wanted to know, and asked all the questions she had. I was told that I will be successful in literature (after he first told me science in math), that I have a good head, heart, and will enjoy good health. But he advised me that I need to start setting goals and making plans. I think this is pretty sound advice; I am constantly doing really cool and awesome things without a set goal or plan, believing it will somehow work out perfectly. It usually does, and that's probably why I continue to do it, but at some point a person does need to develop a master plan. So I'm setting a goal of beginning to set goals for myself. Haha!
Yesterday's awesome adventure was an authentic Ayeurvedic massage. I can tell you right now that it was the weirdest thing I have ever experienced. I'm not quite comfortable with explaining the details of what happened to the public, over the Internet. If you know me well, prepare yourselves for a story. If not, come to India and get yourself an Ayeurvedic massage. It's definitely something to talk about.
For our evening meal we were invited to Angela's friend's home for dinner. She met some Indian people at a temple a few weeks ago and kept in contact with them. Check out this romantic story! One of the young men goes to the Jagdish temple every evening for the chance to see a girl he fell in love with four years ago. He saw her once during a festival, fell completely in love, and continues to go back every evening at the same time in case she's there. He has seen her four times since, once a year at the same festival. He has never spoken to her and doesn't even know her name. Last night he broke out his harmonica and played Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On for her. In the end, all this romance is quite sweet, but sad at the same time. The young man is the Brahmin Caste, but his love is the Rajput Caste. This simple fact means that there is absolutely no chance for the two to ever marry. But he still loves her with all his sweet little heart.
Dinner was amazing. The company was lighthearted and fun. Today they are taking us to some temple in the mountains on their motorbikes. This should be fun and exciting! I was supposed to take the bus to Jodhpur this morning, but staying another day seemed like a no-brainer. So I will leave tomorrow instead, same time as my new friends.
I have to run! I have been spoiled by free internet at Gram Chetna. All this pay as yo go stuff gets expensive!! xo
MCC
I will try to write a coherent entry despite my excitement. I wrote something on my laptop thinking I would switch it to the guesthouse computer, but there is a rule of no USB drives for transferring documents. There is also a rule of no washing your own laundry in your room, but I did mine any way. You can take the girl out of Khedi Milak, but you can't take the Khedi Milak out of the girl...
Let me try to begin at the beginning. I left Jaipur on Friday on the night train to Udaipur. Before leaving the I met two other solo female travelers who were heading to the same train. We decided to share a rickshaw and we ended up hitting it off completely. One is from Spain, Angela, but living n Ecuador. She came to Mumbai for a friend's wedding and decided to do a bit of traveling afterward. The other girl is Moona and she comes from Jordan. She was teaching for a year in China and just made her way overland through Thailand, Cambodia and Nepal. She's one of the coolest people I have ever met. We ended up getting along so well we decided to share a room once we arrived in Udaipur.
So here we are. The first day here I wanted nothing more than to sit and read my book and drink a lot of chai. Nothing else. Period. So I did that, and the next day I hit the town for a bit, then spent a large portion of the day reading and drinking chai. It has rained a lot more in Udaipur than it ever did in Jaipur or the surrounding areas, so that has put a bit of a limitation on how much I've wanted to do.
Moona and I decided to have our palms read after having a brief conversation about men. It was a pretty ridiculous experience, but it was fun. I think she got a bit more out of it because she knew exactly what she wanted to know, and asked all the questions she had. I was told that I will be successful in literature (after he first told me science in math), that I have a good head, heart, and will enjoy good health. But he advised me that I need to start setting goals and making plans. I think this is pretty sound advice; I am constantly doing really cool and awesome things without a set goal or plan, believing it will somehow work out perfectly. It usually does, and that's probably why I continue to do it, but at some point a person does need to develop a master plan. So I'm setting a goal of beginning to set goals for myself. Haha!
Yesterday's awesome adventure was an authentic Ayeurvedic massage. I can tell you right now that it was the weirdest thing I have ever experienced. I'm not quite comfortable with explaining the details of what happened to the public, over the Internet. If you know me well, prepare yourselves for a story. If not, come to India and get yourself an Ayeurvedic massage. It's definitely something to talk about.
For our evening meal we were invited to Angela's friend's home for dinner. She met some Indian people at a temple a few weeks ago and kept in contact with them. Check out this romantic story! One of the young men goes to the Jagdish temple every evening for the chance to see a girl he fell in love with four years ago. He saw her once during a festival, fell completely in love, and continues to go back every evening at the same time in case she's there. He has seen her four times since, once a year at the same festival. He has never spoken to her and doesn't even know her name. Last night he broke out his harmonica and played Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On for her. In the end, all this romance is quite sweet, but sad at the same time. The young man is the Brahmin Caste, but his love is the Rajput Caste. This simple fact means that there is absolutely no chance for the two to ever marry. But he still loves her with all his sweet little heart.
Dinner was amazing. The company was lighthearted and fun. Today they are taking us to some temple in the mountains on their motorbikes. This should be fun and exciting! I was supposed to take the bus to Jodhpur this morning, but staying another day seemed like a no-brainer. So I will leave tomorrow instead, same time as my new friends.
I have to run! I have been spoiled by free internet at Gram Chetna. All this pay as yo go stuff gets expensive!! xo
MCC
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Early departure!
I must warn you. This is not my best writing.... One of these days I will properly compose a blog ahead of time. But I suddenly felt moved to write to you all.
Yesterday morning around 11:30 I decided I was leaving Gram Chetna within 24 hours. I know my last entry was all warm and fuzzy, but since John left, GCK turned into quite the hell hole. If I thought I was being treated strangely before I was the only girl there, magnify that by 10 and that might be a reasonable estimate of the discomfort.
Have I told you about the creepyness factor? I know I've mentioned it in a few emails to various people, but I can't remember if I have specifically written about it in my blogs. Men in India tend to look at western women like we're filthy whores, yet undress us with their eyes at the same time, all the while not speaking... just staring.
Anyway, A few days ago a pair of my undies went missing. Normally I wash them in the shower and hang them dry in my room. I find this process to be easier than waiting till I have no more clean pairs and being forced to figure something out. And every day, except for this day, I remember to bring my under ware back to my room from the shower. So it has always worked very well.
However, the other day I forgot my clean underwear in the shower and when I went back for them, they weren't there. This means that one of the creepy Gram Chetna men has a pair of my underwear. Part of me is relieved I washed them before I forgot them, but the other part is annoyed that I have a pair of my underwear floating around the dorms of Gram Chetna.
CREEPS!
But this wasn't the reason I left early. I have been completely ignored and excluded from everything since I became the only intern last week. And I've been going out of my way to be social and engaging since John left. But the straw that broke the camels back was yesterday morning when I was made to wait until all of the men had eaten before I could have breakfast. You might be thinking, "maybe this is all a big misunderstanding." But I know it was intentional because there was a guy who stayed the night at Gram Chetna and told Govind he didn't like me (a woman) eating with everyone (the men. So the next morning, he was still at Gram Chetna, and I was not invited to eat breakfast until the men had eaten and the food was cold.
So at that very moment I decided to get the eff-word out of that mother bleeping hell-hole.
When I told Rajiv that I was leaving, he acted like he understood completely. He said I didn't seem to enjoy myself because the staff was not in a position to accommodate an intern. He mentioned that during the weeks John was there, he went on 15 or 17 micro-finance field visits. I only went on three. THREE! I can't left myself think about this without feeling extremely disappointed and upset. I think in a few days, when I have cooled down, I am going to write a respectful email to Prashant. I want to explain to him that in the future, if he knows Gram Chetna is not able to accommodate interns he should not invite interns. I could have gone somewhere else for my internship and it really upsets me that I had a sub par experience because he accepted me when he shouldn't have.
So that's that. Now I am in Jaipur waiting to leave on my train tomorrow night. I bought all sorts of shaving supplies and finally I feel like a lady again. Don't worry, I took "before" pictures.
xoxo
Mary
Yesterday morning around 11:30 I decided I was leaving Gram Chetna within 24 hours. I know my last entry was all warm and fuzzy, but since John left, GCK turned into quite the hell hole. If I thought I was being treated strangely before I was the only girl there, magnify that by 10 and that might be a reasonable estimate of the discomfort.
Have I told you about the creepyness factor? I know I've mentioned it in a few emails to various people, but I can't remember if I have specifically written about it in my blogs. Men in India tend to look at western women like we're filthy whores, yet undress us with their eyes at the same time, all the while not speaking... just staring.
Anyway, A few days ago a pair of my undies went missing. Normally I wash them in the shower and hang them dry in my room. I find this process to be easier than waiting till I have no more clean pairs and being forced to figure something out. And every day, except for this day, I remember to bring my under ware back to my room from the shower. So it has always worked very well.
However, the other day I forgot my clean underwear in the shower and when I went back for them, they weren't there. This means that one of the creepy Gram Chetna men has a pair of my underwear. Part of me is relieved I washed them before I forgot them, but the other part is annoyed that I have a pair of my underwear floating around the dorms of Gram Chetna.
CREEPS!
But this wasn't the reason I left early. I have been completely ignored and excluded from everything since I became the only intern last week. And I've been going out of my way to be social and engaging since John left. But the straw that broke the camels back was yesterday morning when I was made to wait until all of the men had eaten before I could have breakfast. You might be thinking, "maybe this is all a big misunderstanding." But I know it was intentional because there was a guy who stayed the night at Gram Chetna and told Govind he didn't like me (a woman) eating with everyone (the men. So the next morning, he was still at Gram Chetna, and I was not invited to eat breakfast until the men had eaten and the food was cold.
So at that very moment I decided to get the eff-word out of that mother bleeping hell-hole.
When I told Rajiv that I was leaving, he acted like he understood completely. He said I didn't seem to enjoy myself because the staff was not in a position to accommodate an intern. He mentioned that during the weeks John was there, he went on 15 or 17 micro-finance field visits. I only went on three. THREE! I can't left myself think about this without feeling extremely disappointed and upset. I think in a few days, when I have cooled down, I am going to write a respectful email to Prashant. I want to explain to him that in the future, if he knows Gram Chetna is not able to accommodate interns he should not invite interns. I could have gone somewhere else for my internship and it really upsets me that I had a sub par experience because he accepted me when he shouldn't have.
So that's that. Now I am in Jaipur waiting to leave on my train tomorrow night. I bought all sorts of shaving supplies and finally I feel like a lady again. Don't worry, I took "before" pictures.
xoxo
Mary
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Live from Gram Chetna!
Hi guys!
Here's another spontaneous (non-prewritten) entry. And I'm working with a computer on a limited battery. Please excuse my typos and gramatical errors.
In the last week when I had Prashant's wireless internet data card, I was able to hop online anytime I wanted. So I did. I spent a lot of time watching music videos, planning future trips to central america, chatting on facebook and gchat. I began to miss home so badly it was unreal. It could have been time for my homesickness to set in, but I can't halp but think my constant facebook and email access had something to do with it.
So I decided to take a break from the internet, specifically facebook, until I'm off on my own. This is, of course, unless something amazing or horrifying happenes. Then I'll send some messages or emails. But until I reach Udaipur, you might not hear from me.
Form here till Saturday, July 24th I am officially off the grid.
I love you all!!!
Here's another spontaneous (non-prewritten) entry. And I'm working with a computer on a limited battery. Please excuse my typos and gramatical errors.
In the last week when I had Prashant's wireless internet data card, I was able to hop online anytime I wanted. So I did. I spent a lot of time watching music videos, planning future trips to central america, chatting on facebook and gchat. I began to miss home so badly it was unreal. It could have been time for my homesickness to set in, but I can't halp but think my constant facebook and email access had something to do with it.
So I decided to take a break from the internet, specifically facebook, until I'm off on my own. This is, of course, unless something amazing or horrifying happenes. Then I'll send some messages or emails. But until I reach Udaipur, you might not hear from me.
Form here till Saturday, July 24th I am officially off the grid.
I love you all!!!
Live from Gram Chetna!
Hi guys!
Here's another spontaneous (non-prewritten) entry. And I'm working with a computer on a limited battery. Please excuse my typos and gramatical errors.
In the last week when I had Prashant's wireless internet data card, I was able to hop online anytime I wanted. So I did. I spent a lot of time watching music videos, planning future trips to central america, chatting on facebook and gchat. I began to miss home so badly it was unreal. It could have been time for my homesickness to set in, but I can't halp but think my constant facebook and email access had something to do with it.
So I decided to take a break from the internet, specifically facebook, until I'm off on my own. This is, of course, unless something amazing or horrifying happenes. Then I'll send some messages or emails. But until I reach Udaipur, you might not hear from me.
Form here till Saturday, July 24th I am officially off the grid.
I love you all!!!
Here's another spontaneous (non-prewritten) entry. And I'm working with a computer on a limited battery. Please excuse my typos and gramatical errors.
In the last week when I had Prashant's wireless internet data card, I was able to hop online anytime I wanted. So I did. I spent a lot of time watching music videos, planning future trips to central america, chatting on facebook and gchat. I began to miss home so badly it was unreal. It could have been time for my homesickness to set in, but I can't halp but think my constant facebook and email access had something to do with it.
So I decided to take a break from the internet, specifically facebook, until I'm off on my own. This is, of course, unless something amazing or horrifying happenes. Then I'll send some messages or emails. But until I reach Udaipur, you might not hear from me.
Form here till Saturday, July 24th I am officially off the grid.
I love you all!!!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
A sudden rush!
Lola has still not arrived. The whole situation is incredibly fishy. It seems absolutely absurd that it's OK to invite a French university student to your organization and then drop off the face of the planet. It seems like a parent's worst nightmare. How can Prashand think that is an acceptable way to treat visitors? If the timing was bad to take on a new intern, then that should have been explained. But is seems that in India it is better to knowingly lie to someone than to tell him or her something she doesn't want to hear. It's quite infuriating!
Anyway, with that being said I think I should finally tell you about some of my love for India. Most of the time I write entries with the main purpose of entertaining my readers. That usually involves me elaborating on awkward moments where I find myself grossed out, frustrated and/or confused. Although the main point of this blog focuses on my many (mis)adventures in India, I don't want to leave out the good ol' happy-but-boring stuff for the sake of entertainment.
With that being said, in the last three weeks something about India has put me into a fairly steady oxitocin-induced coma. In the beginning is was triggered by food, chai and the delicious and ubiquitous sweets. But more recently I've been able to conjure up an oxitocin overload by simply thinking about it. And although I miss home something fierce, and am still constantly overwhelmed by culture shock, these warm and fuzzy feelings are keeping me pretty darn happy.
And I really can't rave enough about how great it is to get out and about in the surrounding comminities. My morning bike rides and the occasional field visits are the two things I look forward to, and will miss the most. This morning on my ride I had a four boy escort. Normally, I pass a group of four thirteen year-old boys coming toward me head-on on their way to school. They shout out, "how are youuuuuu?" and laugh at my response as we cross paths. I was fairly certain that today I left for my ride the same time I always do, but as I passed through the first small village, the four boys were just getting on their bikes to ride to school. So they joined me the entire bike ride, thoroughly enjoying their new celebrity status along the way.
On my way home an old man stopped me and had an entire one sided conversation with me in Marwari. Towards the end I realized he was inviting me back to his house for food. But Govinda was preparing paranthas for breakfast, and I didn't want to miss that deliciousness. I graciously declined, but if he asks me again tomorrow or the next day I will probably take him up on his offer. I was hoping the other old man would invite me in for chai, because today I could make it, but we just waved at each other as I rode past.
I have jokingly referred to my feelings for India as love/hate. But I have to admit that is it far, far more a love relationship than anything else. I think saying love/discomfort would be much more accurate. My endorphins are ensuring that I have plenty of love for this place.
MCC
Anyway, with that being said I think I should finally tell you about some of my love for India. Most of the time I write entries with the main purpose of entertaining my readers. That usually involves me elaborating on awkward moments where I find myself grossed out, frustrated and/or confused. Although the main point of this blog focuses on my many (mis)adventures in India, I don't want to leave out the good ol' happy-but-boring stuff for the sake of entertainment.
With that being said, in the last three weeks something about India has put me into a fairly steady oxitocin-induced coma. In the beginning is was triggered by food, chai and the delicious and ubiquitous sweets. But more recently I've been able to conjure up an oxitocin overload by simply thinking about it. And although I miss home something fierce, and am still constantly overwhelmed by culture shock, these warm and fuzzy feelings are keeping me pretty darn happy.
And I really can't rave enough about how great it is to get out and about in the surrounding comminities. My morning bike rides and the occasional field visits are the two things I look forward to, and will miss the most. This morning on my ride I had a four boy escort. Normally, I pass a group of four thirteen year-old boys coming toward me head-on on their way to school. They shout out, "how are youuuuuu?" and laugh at my response as we cross paths. I was fairly certain that today I left for my ride the same time I always do, but as I passed through the first small village, the four boys were just getting on their bikes to ride to school. So they joined me the entire bike ride, thoroughly enjoying their new celebrity status along the way.
On my way home an old man stopped me and had an entire one sided conversation with me in Marwari. Towards the end I realized he was inviting me back to his house for food. But Govinda was preparing paranthas for breakfast, and I didn't want to miss that deliciousness. I graciously declined, but if he asks me again tomorrow or the next day I will probably take him up on his offer. I was hoping the other old man would invite me in for chai, because today I could make it, but we just waved at each other as I rode past.
I have jokingly referred to my feelings for India as love/hate. But I have to admit that is it far, far more a love relationship than anything else. I think saying love/discomfort would be much more accurate. My endorphins are ensuring that I have plenty of love for this place.
MCC
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Guaranteed Means Nothing.
I think the more work I do at Gram Chetna the more I realize rural community development is not for me. Not that I really thought it was for me in the first place, but I thought it combined the things I find interesting - travel and people - and I would probably be at least appealing. But this work has one other main component that I really find boring, the whole rural community development factor.
It’s Monday morning and I just arrived in the office. Rajiv just walked up to me and placed a stack of folders and binders on my desk, mentioning that this is the information I requested. All I have to do now is read a few more 100 page reports and summarize some information. I hate this shit.
In other news, and so very typical of this place, we still have no new intern. I thought she called yesterday and that was the reason the guys rode off on the motorbike. But I found out last night that they were simply being proactive.
And I was so looking forward to her arriving! After I posted the last blog I went off on the bicycle and bought a kilo of mangos for the welcoming celebration! When I found out John and Rajiv had returned without Lola, I ate four mangos back to back. I guess I can’t feel too guilty about eating my feelings when I’m eating fresh, ripe fruit. It could have been worse.
On a more positive note, mangos are both cheap and delicious here! I bought six for about 80 cents! Another positive thing is that my bike rides are becoming more and more awesome. My random rides have developed into a specific loop I ride every morning, so the people all know me by now. At first I was just getting blank-faced, open-mouthed stares. But now people wave and smile, and a few young men have somehow found out my name. So I ride along to young men calling out, “Good morning, Meddy!” and all the children wave and yell, “bye bye!” There is even one old man who invites me in for chai almost every morning. I haven’t gotten a chance to take him up on his offer yet, but I‘m hoping to sometime in the next few days.
As for the physical aspect of my bike rides, I’m working on some buns of steel over here! I never really thought riding a bicycle did much in that regard. But man! It’s working for me. Of course I have yet to find a mirror larger than 3 in x 5 in to check myself out in, but I feel way stronger. So I am telling myself I’m getting buff. After all, body image really is all in a person's head anyway.
Alright, time to get to these reports. Ugh.
It’s Monday morning and I just arrived in the office. Rajiv just walked up to me and placed a stack of folders and binders on my desk, mentioning that this is the information I requested. All I have to do now is read a few more 100 page reports and summarize some information. I hate this shit.
In other news, and so very typical of this place, we still have no new intern. I thought she called yesterday and that was the reason the guys rode off on the motorbike. But I found out last night that they were simply being proactive.
And I was so looking forward to her arriving! After I posted the last blog I went off on the bicycle and bought a kilo of mangos for the welcoming celebration! When I found out John and Rajiv had returned without Lola, I ate four mangos back to back. I guess I can’t feel too guilty about eating my feelings when I’m eating fresh, ripe fruit. It could have been worse.
On a more positive note, mangos are both cheap and delicious here! I bought six for about 80 cents! Another positive thing is that my bike rides are becoming more and more awesome. My random rides have developed into a specific loop I ride every morning, so the people all know me by now. At first I was just getting blank-faced, open-mouthed stares. But now people wave and smile, and a few young men have somehow found out my name. So I ride along to young men calling out, “Good morning, Meddy!” and all the children wave and yell, “bye bye!” There is even one old man who invites me in for chai almost every morning. I haven’t gotten a chance to take him up on his offer yet, but I‘m hoping to sometime in the next few days.
As for the physical aspect of my bike rides, I’m working on some buns of steel over here! I never really thought riding a bicycle did much in that regard. But man! It’s working for me. Of course I have yet to find a mirror larger than 3 in x 5 in to check myself out in, but I feel way stronger. So I am telling myself I’m getting buff. After all, body image really is all in a person's head anyway.
Alright, time to get to these reports. Ugh.
New Intern! GUARANTEED.
John and Rajiv are on their way to Jaipur to pick up Lola, the new intern, as I type. John told me last night that he didn’t really feel like heading in on the bus, so I might have to go get her. I could have told him then and there that wasn’t happening, but I kept my mouth shut and played the whole thing by ear. From the get-go he’s taken the majority of the responsibility for this intern coming. Prashand asked him to take a look at her resume, then Prashand asked him to write her an email inviting her to stay, and then John wrote an email from his private email account to introduce himself and offer support if she needed anything. And then he tells me last night that he might not feel like heading into Jaipur to pick her up adding, “but someone has to,” meaning me.
I would have been more flexible, but my special monthly visitor is set to arrive today and spending four hours on a bus, then wondering around Japiur without the guarantee of access to a bathroom is not my ideal way to spend the day (I know, I know... too much information). So while I did feel a little bad for making it clear I wasn’t going to do it, I did feel fairly justified. John signed on to this intern project right away. Neither John nor Prashand ever made any effort to include me before, so why involve me now just because things have become inconvenient?
So Rajiv and John left about an hour and a half ago on the motorbike. I don’t know about this girl Lola, but I would be a little terrified if I had to ride three to a motorbike on my second day in India, especially with the luggage! But I have the feeling she’s been here before, so it might be alright.
In preparation for her arrival, and her becoming my new roommate for the next two weeks, I cleared off a shelf for her clothes, thoroughly swept the floor, and picked some flowers to spruce up the joint. My bedroom still looks a bit like a holding cell out of the movie Saw III (especially since I took up the area rug to avoid crickets), but I can see some improvement.
I hope they pick her up and head straight back to Gram Chetna and no funny business like seeing a movie!! I can’t wait to meet this Lola chick.
I would have been more flexible, but my special monthly visitor is set to arrive today and spending four hours on a bus, then wondering around Japiur without the guarantee of access to a bathroom is not my ideal way to spend the day (I know, I know... too much information). So while I did feel a little bad for making it clear I wasn’t going to do it, I did feel fairly justified. John signed on to this intern project right away. Neither John nor Prashand ever made any effort to include me before, so why involve me now just because things have become inconvenient?
So Rajiv and John left about an hour and a half ago on the motorbike. I don’t know about this girl Lola, but I would be a little terrified if I had to ride three to a motorbike on my second day in India, especially with the luggage! But I have the feeling she’s been here before, so it might be alright.
In preparation for her arrival, and her becoming my new roommate for the next two weeks, I cleared off a shelf for her clothes, thoroughly swept the floor, and picked some flowers to spruce up the joint. My bedroom still looks a bit like a holding cell out of the movie Saw III (especially since I took up the area rug to avoid crickets), but I can see some improvement.
I hope they pick her up and head straight back to Gram Chetna and no funny business like seeing a movie!! I can’t wait to meet this Lola chick.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Unevents
Next week Tuesday is John’s last day at Gram Chetna. For a while I was a little bummed because I would be the only intern for the following week and a half. At one point we were going to have an intern from France, but it seemed like she was bailing because she wouldn’t return any of the emails John sent her. Prashand has been gone for the last few days and we haven’t been able to reach him. He’s in Uttar Pradesh visiting his wife and he shut his phone off for the week.
John had the bright idea this morning to check the Gram Chetna email account to make sure the French intern really wasn’t coming. She wasn’t responding to his emails from his personal account, but she originally emailed the main Gram Chetna address. When he signed in he saw that she and Prashand have been corresponding with one another for the last week, and Prashand didn’t tell anyone. She is coming, tomorrow in fact.
I’m overjoyed, but what the hell?! I had just gotten comfortable with the idea that I would be alone for my last week here. Prashand knew she was coming, gave her his cell phone number as the Gram Chetna contact number, then left for a week and shut his phone off. What was he thinking, if he was thinking at all?
Not much has been happening this week. I gave Prashand a list of information I need to finish my projects and then he left without giving me anything. Oh, and the generator was down, so we had no power for half the day. And then today we’re in day three of eight hour staff meetings. Luckily Prashand left his wireless internet data card, so most of my days have been spent screwing around online. I pretty much have next summer’s traveling planned out. How does Central America sound?
John had the bright idea this morning to check the Gram Chetna email account to make sure the French intern really wasn’t coming. She wasn’t responding to his emails from his personal account, but she originally emailed the main Gram Chetna address. When he signed in he saw that she and Prashand have been corresponding with one another for the last week, and Prashand didn’t tell anyone. She is coming, tomorrow in fact.
I’m overjoyed, but what the hell?! I had just gotten comfortable with the idea that I would be alone for my last week here. Prashand knew she was coming, gave her his cell phone number as the Gram Chetna contact number, then left for a week and shut his phone off. What was he thinking, if he was thinking at all?
Not much has been happening this week. I gave Prashand a list of information I need to finish my projects and then he left without giving me anything. Oh, and the generator was down, so we had no power for half the day. And then today we’re in day three of eight hour staff meetings. Luckily Prashand left his wireless internet data card, so most of my days have been spent screwing around online. I pretty much have next summer’s traveling planned out. How does Central America sound?
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
For Real!
I told you all that I would write some of my observations on the caste system, but it’s proving to be very difficult. First of all, I don’t even know enough about the caste system to know what I don’t know. Second, writing about the caste system in India makes me feel like I’m somehow ignoring the fact that discrimination is very much alive and well in my home country and community. As a white, middle class young woman born to educated parents, I have personally benefited from the racial discrimination found in the USA. Although I worked hard to get to India, many of the reasons I was able to come were a result of unearned privileges I have been granted because of my social class and ethnicity. I don’t want my observations to come across as if discrimination is foreign to me.
That being acknowledged, I still don’t feel all that comfortable writing about caste. I can, however, do what I usually do and tell you all a story.
The Gram Chetna staff is primarily made up of Brahmins. The founding team were all Brahmin, Big Boss is Brahmin, and both his son (Amit) and brother (Vishnu) work here and are obviously also Brahmin. Brahmins are at the top of the caste system and the Scheduled Castes and Tribes are at the bottom. “Scheduled” means that they are given certain affirmative action style rights in the constitution. It’s also a nicer name for what they were once referred to - Untouchables.
Gram Chetna’s has a huge presence in the surrounding communities. The name can be roughly translated to Village Awareness Center and it provides education on health, safe water and sanitation, child development, nutrition, family planning among many other things. The center also arranges for dairy cooperatives among the farmers, and provides support to women’s microfinance schemes. The work done here is generally done with and for the uneducated, rural poor. Rajiv once said that as a social worker, there is very little room for caste discrimination in his line of work.
Now, there is a young man, Mahendra, who comes to Gram Chetna every morning, seven days a week, to sweep the dust, clean the bathrooms and take out the trash. He arrives before we wake up and takes a short break when morning chai is served. While we all sit around on lawn chairs drinking out of ceramic tea cups, he is served his chai in a plastic cup and sits about ten yards away, on some concrete steps. From the very beginning I thought these behaviors were caste related, but I never said anything about it.
Two weeks ago we went to a marriage party where caste was directly brought up by Amit and Rajiv. To make a long story short, two girls sat with our Gram Chetna group for dinner. I didn’t pick up on any of this at the time, but it was discussed later on the way home. One of the two girls wasn’t going to eat with us because her friend (!!!!!) was of a lower caste, and she wouldn’t eat with her. Amit, who is Brahmin, didn’t care about anyone’s caste and told the one girl to eat. So she did, but Amit and Rajiv laughed about it in the car on the way home.
The above story gave me the impression that caste was largely ignored by the people at Gram Chetna. But the chai served to him in a plastic cup was really throwing me off. Finally I brought it up to John and he said something about age being a possible factor. He read somewhere that if a young man is younger than 18, he is still often treated as a child. But that didn’t seem right to me. John then asked Prashand and he confirmed my beliefs, that it was indeed caste related. And unfortunately, he also told us some more upsetting information about caste discrimination at Gram Chetna.
Not only does Mahendra have to drink his tea from a plastic cup away from the group every morning, he must also keep his dishes separate from everyone else’s, he is also not allowed in the kitchen, and he is not allowed to drink from the electrocuting water cooler. When he sweeps in the mornings he is not allowed to step foot in Big Boss’s office, Amit’s office, or Vishnu’s dormitory. If he goes in, the rooms are considered contaminated because he is a member of the Scheduled Caste.
Prashand added that although the caste system is reinforced through Hindu beliefs, Rajasthan was the birthplace of discrimination based on caste. He is from a Uttar Pradesh and said that things weren’t like this back at his home. I have no way of knowing how accurate that is. It may be like saying Chicago is less racist than Detroit. It might just be that the discrimination in Rajasthan is more overt than other places in India. Who knows.
That’s that on caste.
In other news, I had to break out the mosquito net. Before coming I read countless blogs about how useless mosquito nets are in India. I read that there is never any place to hang it from, it creates a cocoon of heat around you, and there aren’t really any bugs to worry about. After all, it was pretty useless while I was in Kenya. For a minute I thought about leaving it at home, especially because I was packing so light. But in the end I decided to bring it anyway. And thank the lord I did! The bugs just seem to get worse and worse by the minute. Yesterday after dinner I went to wash my dishes and found the outdoor kitchen sink was fill of squirming fly larvae. I definitely gagged at that one…
And I’ve decided to tell you all one more short story. It has to do with the sweeper, Mahendra. Yesterday morning I decided to forgo my bike ride and spend the morning getting rid of the bugs in my room. Crickets and ¾ inch long ants had taken over the place. So I decided to take my luggage from under my bed, the two boxes of empty mineral water bottles from the corner, and my floor rug and place it all on a shelf. The ants and crickets hide under and behind those things, so I got rid of it all.
When Mahendra saw me pulling everything out of my room he asked if I wanted him to clean. Being fully capable of cleaning my own bedroom, I smiled and said, “no thanks”. Now there is a chance that he took that as me asking him not to enter my room, like Vishnu. This morning on my bike ride, I was really looking forward to coming back to a swept room. I know, I know… But if he is going to sweep (which he usually does), I prefer it to happen when I’m gone. I get embarrassed when he comes in to sweep when I’m relaxing on my bed, reading. I feel like I should get up and help him.
But when I got back from my bike ride my room was still a mess. There was dust everywhere, dead bugs were all over the floor. It definitely had not been swept yet. Mahendra had moved onto the other section of the building, so I knew he was done with my room. I know I am fully capable of sweeping out my own room, and that’s exactly what I ended up doing. I just can’t help thinking something else happened, maybe some sort of a miscommunication.
As I see it, I’m stuck either ignoring the possible miscommunication, or deliberately asking him to sweep my room in the morning. Both options make me uncomfortable. While I have no problem sweeping my own room, I don’t want my actions to be misconstrued as caste related. Certainly asking him to sweep my room would clarify that I don’t care about caste, but my Western (or maybe American) values makes me uncomfortable with asking someone to clean up my mess.
I guess my third option would be to tell him it is nothing caste related, but I can sweep my own room. But I’m sure no one would understand why I was making such a distinction. Why is this so damn complicated?!
That being acknowledged, I still don’t feel all that comfortable writing about caste. I can, however, do what I usually do and tell you all a story.
The Gram Chetna staff is primarily made up of Brahmins. The founding team were all Brahmin, Big Boss is Brahmin, and both his son (Amit) and brother (Vishnu) work here and are obviously also Brahmin. Brahmins are at the top of the caste system and the Scheduled Castes and Tribes are at the bottom. “Scheduled” means that they are given certain affirmative action style rights in the constitution. It’s also a nicer name for what they were once referred to - Untouchables.
Gram Chetna’s has a huge presence in the surrounding communities. The name can be roughly translated to Village Awareness Center and it provides education on health, safe water and sanitation, child development, nutrition, family planning among many other things. The center also arranges for dairy cooperatives among the farmers, and provides support to women’s microfinance schemes. The work done here is generally done with and for the uneducated, rural poor. Rajiv once said that as a social worker, there is very little room for caste discrimination in his line of work.
Now, there is a young man, Mahendra, who comes to Gram Chetna every morning, seven days a week, to sweep the dust, clean the bathrooms and take out the trash. He arrives before we wake up and takes a short break when morning chai is served. While we all sit around on lawn chairs drinking out of ceramic tea cups, he is served his chai in a plastic cup and sits about ten yards away, on some concrete steps. From the very beginning I thought these behaviors were caste related, but I never said anything about it.
Two weeks ago we went to a marriage party where caste was directly brought up by Amit and Rajiv. To make a long story short, two girls sat with our Gram Chetna group for dinner. I didn’t pick up on any of this at the time, but it was discussed later on the way home. One of the two girls wasn’t going to eat with us because her friend (!!!!!) was of a lower caste, and she wouldn’t eat with her. Amit, who is Brahmin, didn’t care about anyone’s caste and told the one girl to eat. So she did, but Amit and Rajiv laughed about it in the car on the way home.
The above story gave me the impression that caste was largely ignored by the people at Gram Chetna. But the chai served to him in a plastic cup was really throwing me off. Finally I brought it up to John and he said something about age being a possible factor. He read somewhere that if a young man is younger than 18, he is still often treated as a child. But that didn’t seem right to me. John then asked Prashand and he confirmed my beliefs, that it was indeed caste related. And unfortunately, he also told us some more upsetting information about caste discrimination at Gram Chetna.
Not only does Mahendra have to drink his tea from a plastic cup away from the group every morning, he must also keep his dishes separate from everyone else’s, he is also not allowed in the kitchen, and he is not allowed to drink from the electrocuting water cooler. When he sweeps in the mornings he is not allowed to step foot in Big Boss’s office, Amit’s office, or Vishnu’s dormitory. If he goes in, the rooms are considered contaminated because he is a member of the Scheduled Caste.
Prashand added that although the caste system is reinforced through Hindu beliefs, Rajasthan was the birthplace of discrimination based on caste. He is from a Uttar Pradesh and said that things weren’t like this back at his home. I have no way of knowing how accurate that is. It may be like saying Chicago is less racist than Detroit. It might just be that the discrimination in Rajasthan is more overt than other places in India. Who knows.
That’s that on caste.
In other news, I had to break out the mosquito net. Before coming I read countless blogs about how useless mosquito nets are in India. I read that there is never any place to hang it from, it creates a cocoon of heat around you, and there aren’t really any bugs to worry about. After all, it was pretty useless while I was in Kenya. For a minute I thought about leaving it at home, especially because I was packing so light. But in the end I decided to bring it anyway. And thank the lord I did! The bugs just seem to get worse and worse by the minute. Yesterday after dinner I went to wash my dishes and found the outdoor kitchen sink was fill of squirming fly larvae. I definitely gagged at that one…
And I’ve decided to tell you all one more short story. It has to do with the sweeper, Mahendra. Yesterday morning I decided to forgo my bike ride and spend the morning getting rid of the bugs in my room. Crickets and ¾ inch long ants had taken over the place. So I decided to take my luggage from under my bed, the two boxes of empty mineral water bottles from the corner, and my floor rug and place it all on a shelf. The ants and crickets hide under and behind those things, so I got rid of it all.
When Mahendra saw me pulling everything out of my room he asked if I wanted him to clean. Being fully capable of cleaning my own bedroom, I smiled and said, “no thanks”. Now there is a chance that he took that as me asking him not to enter my room, like Vishnu. This morning on my bike ride, I was really looking forward to coming back to a swept room. I know, I know… But if he is going to sweep (which he usually does), I prefer it to happen when I’m gone. I get embarrassed when he comes in to sweep when I’m relaxing on my bed, reading. I feel like I should get up and help him.
But when I got back from my bike ride my room was still a mess. There was dust everywhere, dead bugs were all over the floor. It definitely had not been swept yet. Mahendra had moved onto the other section of the building, so I knew he was done with my room. I know I am fully capable of sweeping out my own room, and that’s exactly what I ended up doing. I just can’t help thinking something else happened, maybe some sort of a miscommunication.
As I see it, I’m stuck either ignoring the possible miscommunication, or deliberately asking him to sweep my room in the morning. Both options make me uncomfortable. While I have no problem sweeping my own room, I don’t want my actions to be misconstrued as caste related. Certainly asking him to sweep my room would clarify that I don’t care about caste, but my Western (or maybe American) values makes me uncomfortable with asking someone to clean up my mess.
I guess my third option would be to tell him it is nothing caste related, but I can sweep my own room. But I’m sure no one would understand why I was making such a distinction. Why is this so damn complicated?!
Monday, July 5, 2010
Food!
It dawned on me the other day that there are two entries I need to write. I’ve been getting some emails asking what the food is like, so I thought I’d give you an entry based on food. I was also moved last night to write a entry about the caste system. I’m by no means an expert, as I’m sure you all will see. And I don’t plan on offering any patronizing statements espousing my strong Amerrrrrkan values. I’m just going to tell you some things that I’ve seen.
But first I want to tell you a story.
The rains have started as predicted and brought around a fair, cool temperature. I’m not talking 65 F degrees; I mean more like 85 F and humid. Regardless, it’s a nice break from the weather in the last few weeks. Since the rain has come and the temperature has dropped, we have seen an increase in bugs. Last night was an event of biblical proportions and I really wanted to take pictures or video, but my camera was locked in the office. Imagine heavy clouds of swarms by every illuminated light bulb and every wall coated with flies. Yuck! Add to this the fact the generator was out and the water pump couldn‘t be turned on. Normally this would not have been a problem. The drinking water cooler was working (I don‘t know how), I didn’t need to shower, and I can usually make do without electricity.
But this morning I needed to shower, like most mornings. There are several water tanks on the roof of the buildings, so water was accessible. I filled a bucket with an awkward blue hose coming down off the roof and brought it over to the bathing rooms. The Gram Chetna driver, Ramu, saw me lugging the water bucket and let out a surprised sounding “Oh!”, as if he was surprised to see me doing any physical labor. I think the general consensus among the men is that I’m a princess (by rural Rajasthan standards). While I think I’m a pretty good sport, roughing it with the squat toilets and the bucket showers, hand washing my clothing and eating on the floor; they only see my red brick pedicures, my use of a fan at night, and my avoidance of cooking detail. They think I’m soft, but I don’t! I just like my feet looking nice, I get hot at night, and I don’t like my hands smelling like onions all the time.
Anyway. I took the bucket into the bathrooms where there are two showers to choose from. I prefer one over the other because it has a wire rack and hook to hang my clothes on while the other shower just has one broken hook. Unfortunately the door to my favorite shower wasn’t latching all the way so I had to use the other shower, which was overrun with bugs - nasty flies, grasshoppers, ants! And I’m not talking about a few here and there. The flies were crawling the walls and there were probably upwards of twenty grasshoppers huddled in the corners.
So I got in with my bucket of tank water and tried the nozzle of the faucet one more time. Still no water. I began to splash myself with water and begin my showering routine. About three minutes in I heard a gurgling noise followed my a low pitch hissing sound. All of the sudden the faucet turns on, spraying water everywhere. I had forgotten to turn it off when I checked a few moments prior and it was startling the grasshoppers. It was sort of like that Jackass skit when one of those idiots dresses like a mouse and rolls around in a room full of mousetraps. One cricket set off another, who set off another, who set off another. Suddenly I had close to twenty jumping crickets bouncing off my legs. Luckily I kept my cool. I quickly finished my shower and got the hell out of there, having thoroughly shaken out all of my clothing before getting dressed. I’m realizing that I will have nerves of steel by the time I get home.
Come to think of it, I don’t really feel like writing about the caste system right now. I think I’ll leave that to another time. Let’s talk about food!
I’ve had a lot of questions about the food here and I don’t think I’ve really taken any time to answer. Yes, the food is excellent, for the most part. When I first arrived I was operating under the assumption that all of the food here would be amazing and delicious and even more amazing. That idea lasted for about two weeks, when I had the unfortunate experience of nearly gagging on mango sabji. Since then I’ve had to eat some other less than delicious Indian food, but I’d say on average the food is pretty darn good.
That being said, I had to put myself on a diet. In the first few days at Gram Chetna I was stuffing myself at every meal. We are only served two official meals a day, breakfast and dinner. Breakfast is served anywhere between 9 am and 11 am, and dinner is served at around 9:00 pm. When I first got here I would eat as much as I could, to the point where I was in pain, for both breakfast and dinner. About two weeks into my stay I felt like I was becoming a fatty, so I imposed a two chapatti rule. I gained a lot of weight in Kenya and I didn’t want the same to happen in India. The two chapatti rule means I can have a regular sized portion of daal or sabji, but I can only eat two chapattis with it. So far it seems to be working. But I’m also taking daily hour-long bike rides. So who really knows what’s doing what.
I also thought I should explain the meaning of some of the words I am using. They’ve become part of my daily vocabulary and I don’t even think to tell you all what they mean. First, chai is tea made is milk and it’s delicious. Well, it has a little bit of water mixed in, but it’s mostly milk. It is also loaded with sugar, so in a way it’s more like candy than tea. It’s one of the things I am going to truly miss when I get home. As for daal, it’s a lentil soup type dish. You can eat it over rice or scooped up with some chapatti bread. Sabji is a general term for any sort of sautéed or stewed vegetable dish. Chapatti is circular flat bread with an approximate 5 inch diameter. Oh, and two rules here is that food must all be vegetarian and no alcohol. But apparently the latter is merely a suggestion because we had beer to celebrate Canada Day.
And Govinda is coming back today! He normally works seven days a week, 24 hours a day, so every six weeks he gets time off to visit his family and relax. This time he was going to a family wedding as well, so he’s been gone for more than two weeks. I can’t say he doesn’t deserve the time off, but when he left he took the joy of this place with him. In his absence we have Lala, who isn’t nearly as good of a cook or as friendly. But allegedly Govinda is coming back today… we’ll see if that actually happens. He’s been coming back “tomorrow” for the last seven days.
Ok, that’s all! Love ya!
MCC
But first I want to tell you a story.
The rains have started as predicted and brought around a fair, cool temperature. I’m not talking 65 F degrees; I mean more like 85 F and humid. Regardless, it’s a nice break from the weather in the last few weeks. Since the rain has come and the temperature has dropped, we have seen an increase in bugs. Last night was an event of biblical proportions and I really wanted to take pictures or video, but my camera was locked in the office. Imagine heavy clouds of swarms by every illuminated light bulb and every wall coated with flies. Yuck! Add to this the fact the generator was out and the water pump couldn‘t be turned on. Normally this would not have been a problem. The drinking water cooler was working (I don‘t know how), I didn’t need to shower, and I can usually make do without electricity.
But this morning I needed to shower, like most mornings. There are several water tanks on the roof of the buildings, so water was accessible. I filled a bucket with an awkward blue hose coming down off the roof and brought it over to the bathing rooms. The Gram Chetna driver, Ramu, saw me lugging the water bucket and let out a surprised sounding “Oh!”, as if he was surprised to see me doing any physical labor. I think the general consensus among the men is that I’m a princess (by rural Rajasthan standards). While I think I’m a pretty good sport, roughing it with the squat toilets and the bucket showers, hand washing my clothing and eating on the floor; they only see my red brick pedicures, my use of a fan at night, and my avoidance of cooking detail. They think I’m soft, but I don’t! I just like my feet looking nice, I get hot at night, and I don’t like my hands smelling like onions all the time.
Anyway. I took the bucket into the bathrooms where there are two showers to choose from. I prefer one over the other because it has a wire rack and hook to hang my clothes on while the other shower just has one broken hook. Unfortunately the door to my favorite shower wasn’t latching all the way so I had to use the other shower, which was overrun with bugs - nasty flies, grasshoppers, ants! And I’m not talking about a few here and there. The flies were crawling the walls and there were probably upwards of twenty grasshoppers huddled in the corners.
So I got in with my bucket of tank water and tried the nozzle of the faucet one more time. Still no water. I began to splash myself with water and begin my showering routine. About three minutes in I heard a gurgling noise followed my a low pitch hissing sound. All of the sudden the faucet turns on, spraying water everywhere. I had forgotten to turn it off when I checked a few moments prior and it was startling the grasshoppers. It was sort of like that Jackass skit when one of those idiots dresses like a mouse and rolls around in a room full of mousetraps. One cricket set off another, who set off another, who set off another. Suddenly I had close to twenty jumping crickets bouncing off my legs. Luckily I kept my cool. I quickly finished my shower and got the hell out of there, having thoroughly shaken out all of my clothing before getting dressed. I’m realizing that I will have nerves of steel by the time I get home.
Come to think of it, I don’t really feel like writing about the caste system right now. I think I’ll leave that to another time. Let’s talk about food!
I’ve had a lot of questions about the food here and I don’t think I’ve really taken any time to answer. Yes, the food is excellent, for the most part. When I first arrived I was operating under the assumption that all of the food here would be amazing and delicious and even more amazing. That idea lasted for about two weeks, when I had the unfortunate experience of nearly gagging on mango sabji. Since then I’ve had to eat some other less than delicious Indian food, but I’d say on average the food is pretty darn good.
That being said, I had to put myself on a diet. In the first few days at Gram Chetna I was stuffing myself at every meal. We are only served two official meals a day, breakfast and dinner. Breakfast is served anywhere between 9 am and 11 am, and dinner is served at around 9:00 pm. When I first got here I would eat as much as I could, to the point where I was in pain, for both breakfast and dinner. About two weeks into my stay I felt like I was becoming a fatty, so I imposed a two chapatti rule. I gained a lot of weight in Kenya and I didn’t want the same to happen in India. The two chapatti rule means I can have a regular sized portion of daal or sabji, but I can only eat two chapattis with it. So far it seems to be working. But I’m also taking daily hour-long bike rides. So who really knows what’s doing what.
I also thought I should explain the meaning of some of the words I am using. They’ve become part of my daily vocabulary and I don’t even think to tell you all what they mean. First, chai is tea made is milk and it’s delicious. Well, it has a little bit of water mixed in, but it’s mostly milk. It is also loaded with sugar, so in a way it’s more like candy than tea. It’s one of the things I am going to truly miss when I get home. As for daal, it’s a lentil soup type dish. You can eat it over rice or scooped up with some chapatti bread. Sabji is a general term for any sort of sautéed or stewed vegetable dish. Chapatti is circular flat bread with an approximate 5 inch diameter. Oh, and two rules here is that food must all be vegetarian and no alcohol. But apparently the latter is merely a suggestion because we had beer to celebrate Canada Day.
And Govinda is coming back today! He normally works seven days a week, 24 hours a day, so every six weeks he gets time off to visit his family and relax. This time he was going to a family wedding as well, so he’s been gone for more than two weeks. I can’t say he doesn’t deserve the time off, but when he left he took the joy of this place with him. In his absence we have Lala, who isn’t nearly as good of a cook or as friendly. But allegedly Govinda is coming back today… we’ll see if that actually happens. He’s been coming back “tomorrow” for the last seven days.
Ok, that’s all! Love ya!
MCC
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
It's July!!!
It is officially the last day on June. I’m fully expecting tomorrow to bring torrential rainstorms too cool this place the eff-word down. That would be nice, but seeing as how I was told the monsoon was predicted to come early this year, I’m starting to doubt there will even be a monsoon at all. Aside from the obvious ecological problems, this would be bad for two reasons.
First, and foremost, I am looking forward to it cooling down a few degrees. While I’m at Gram Chetna I can escape from the heat a little bit by hiding indoors for the majority of the day. But when I’m out doing my touring I wont be able to hide from much. It’s not like I’m going to chill in my hotel from 11 to 3 everyday. Well, I might. But I don’t want to feel like I have no other choice.
The second reason is that if it doesn’t rain in July, August in Rajasthan will not be green. Also, the lakes in Udaipur will be all dried up and nasty. Pushkar normally has a huge lake in the center, but it was all dried up when we went because there has been no rain lately. Basically, Mother Nature needs to get the memo about the world revolving around me for the next six weeks.
Today is Wednesday, and that means tomorrow marks my fourth week here at Gram Chetna and my fifth week in India. That blows my mind! Although my time here has been mostly business, and not all that much fun, it’s really flown by. I’m half way done! I’m in the home stretch! Three more weeks working here and I’m off to Udaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer and the Taj Mahal! It would be really easy to visit the Taj on a long weekend before I’m finished with my internship, but my 26th birthday is August 7th and I’ve arranged my calendar so I’ll be at the Taj for the day itself. But as awesome as that is, I’ll most likely be traveling solo, which isn’t at all what I pictured while imagining my plan back home. I’m afraid I’ll have to wait for the cake, ice cream and birthday hugs and kisses.
I suppose that’s it for now. In the last few days my spirits have greatly improved because of some lovely messages from friends and family back home. Well, not so much family, just friends. Apparently my family doesn’t take the time to write emails to their daughter/sister struggling with culture shock in a foreign land.
Yes, you. Feel guilty. Feel very, very guilty…
MCC
First, and foremost, I am looking forward to it cooling down a few degrees. While I’m at Gram Chetna I can escape from the heat a little bit by hiding indoors for the majority of the day. But when I’m out doing my touring I wont be able to hide from much. It’s not like I’m going to chill in my hotel from 11 to 3 everyday. Well, I might. But I don’t want to feel like I have no other choice.
The second reason is that if it doesn’t rain in July, August in Rajasthan will not be green. Also, the lakes in Udaipur will be all dried up and nasty. Pushkar normally has a huge lake in the center, but it was all dried up when we went because there has been no rain lately. Basically, Mother Nature needs to get the memo about the world revolving around me for the next six weeks.
Today is Wednesday, and that means tomorrow marks my fourth week here at Gram Chetna and my fifth week in India. That blows my mind! Although my time here has been mostly business, and not all that much fun, it’s really flown by. I’m half way done! I’m in the home stretch! Three more weeks working here and I’m off to Udaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer and the Taj Mahal! It would be really easy to visit the Taj on a long weekend before I’m finished with my internship, but my 26th birthday is August 7th and I’ve arranged my calendar so I’ll be at the Taj for the day itself. But as awesome as that is, I’ll most likely be traveling solo, which isn’t at all what I pictured while imagining my plan back home. I’m afraid I’ll have to wait for the cake, ice cream and birthday hugs and kisses.
I suppose that’s it for now. In the last few days my spirits have greatly improved because of some lovely messages from friends and family back home. Well, not so much family, just friends. Apparently my family doesn’t take the time to write emails to their daughter/sister struggling with culture shock in a foreign land.
Yes, you. Feel guilty. Feel very, very guilty…
MCC
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Working Hard.
Holy overburdened intern, Batman!
Yea, I actually said that. For the last three weeks we really haven’t had much to do here at Gram Chetna, except write annual reports. I’ve expressed my frustrations with writing the reports to you all, so I’m going to move past that. Actually, I’m finishing the last one up in the next day or two and it isn’t too unpleasant. Yesterday I hit a wall with my procrastinating. That’s usually how it goes. I’ll putz around, not doing any real work on a specific project, then all of the sudden I realize there‘s no getting out of it. Then I’ll get to work.
That’s what happened yesterday and now I’m a machine. And really, the report is not that bad. It’s boring, tedious, and I really don’t know what I’m talking about. But all in all, it’s not horrible.
But, holy crap do they have more work for us?!?! Two days ago Prashand asked me to take a look at a grant from the Australian Embassy, adding there was no rush because nothing needs to be submitted for a month or so. Then Amit asks me to write a proposal for another organization. But for this project… well, there is no project, yet. That’s for me to develop, along with the budget and everything else. What?!
On another note, I don’t think I was entirely accurate when I said I don’t really like it here. When I’m out on field visits I love India and Gram Chetna. It’s just when I’m stuck on this compound, the same place I sleep, eat, work, and spend my free time, I get a little tired of it. Today turned out to be one of the great days. It involved a bit of hard work, a women’s group visit, a dust storm, going to a party, hunting down kids for sponsorship photos, meeting a woman who wanted to adopt me, and one special surprise I’m going to make you wait for.
The first half of the day was spent in the office. I asked Rajiv if he was going on any field visits today. I was hoping to tag along because I haven’t left this place in what feels like forever. He said he was going sometime in the afternoon and asked if I could handle the midday heat. I cringed on the inside, but thought if I said no due to the heat I might not get another chance. That, and if I wimped out because of the heat I’d be a little disappointed with myself, too.
So at about 2:00 p.m. I slapped on some sun block and hopped on the motorbike. The first stop was a Self-Help Group (SHG) meeting. Just to give you the inside scoop, SHG meetings are not a bunch of people sitting around talking about their daddy issues. When I first heard the term I thought it was some sort of group therapy session, but it’s not. SHGs are groups of around 20 women who save money together, and take turns borrowing different amounts. It’s one of the many forms of microfinance prevalent in the developing world. The groups and the meetings are pretty much run by the members themselves. But most, if not all, of the women are illiterate, so Rajiv has to keep the groups’ books.
The meetings themselves are a little boring and I never really understand what is going on. Today there were two arguments over what? I don‘t know. One kid kept tickling my feet and I became close friends with a group of adolescent girls. As a side note, it’s fun to know that no matter what country you go to, thirteen year old girls get the giggles all the same. Just as the meeting was wrapping up, a dust storm came out of nowhere. I mean nowhere! Clear skies one moment and then suddenly a sandblaster to the face the next. Almost immediately the bickering stopped, the women paid what they needed to pay and everyone went home.
Then, like an angel in the night, a random man appeared through the dust and asked if we’d like to come eat lunch at his house. Rajiv can get a little awkward at times like this. I don’t think he really wanted to go, but he could tell I really wanted him to say yes. I was starving! So we went to this man’s house, which was more like a stable, and we feasted on the floor with his family.
Here I would like to tell you something I’ve been meaning to tell you all for the last two weeks. The number one piece of advice I’ve been given about safe travels in India is under no circumstances ever drink the water. But folks, I’m drinking the water. There is no way not to! When I go on field visits, the first thing I am offered is a plastic lawn chair to sit on. The second item I am offered is a cup of tap water to drink. If I don’t take at least one medium sized swallow, I feel like I’m being rude. A few entries ago I mentioned there are some behaviors for fitting in as a foreign intern. One is no photojournalism, and the other is drink just a little bit of the water.
Where was I? So after lunch, in the style I’m awkwardly growing accustomed to, we left immediately. Next we were off to hunt down children to take their photos and measure their height. This was a little boring and tiresome, so I’ll spare you most of the details. I got to hold a baby, which was cool. And I even made her smile, which is crazy. So far in India, I’ve only made babies cry. The smile was a welcome change.
On the last photo stop we found ourselves at the home of a woman who told me she wanted me as her daughter. This was obviously a rough translation from Rajiv, but it was pretty obvious she thought I was the bees knees. I didn’t even say anything before she had grabbed my hand and was leading me into her house, trying to make me put on prettier clothes. It’s times like this I think Rajiv doesn’t want me with him on field visits. Quite frankly, I cause a scene everywhere I go. He always has to explain what I’m doing there and where I am from, he has to translate messages, accept invitations for chai, the list goes on and on. I get the feeling, especially when we’re out taking pictures, that he just wants to get in and get out. But when I’m there everything is a big elaborate production.
There are many joint families in this area, meaning several generations on one bit of land, sharing common living space. While at this home I was taken into one house and I was given chai. Rajiv left me while he was taking pictures and collecting information on the various kids in the nearby homes. So I was left chillin in this house with a bunch of people who didn’t speak English. So there was a lot of smiling and laughing going on. About ten minutes later Rajiv returned so we could head back to Gram Chetna. We had almost walked to the road when my Indian mom yelled something about chai. Rajiv said something back, but before he finished the sentence the woman had come out of her house and had me by the wrist. Despite Rajiv’s protests she was pulling me back towards her home.
She had already began to make us chai, which usually involves milking the family goat. I thought it would be rude to leave, but Rajiv really didn’t want to stay. I told him that he could make the decision, telling her we couldn’t stay. At one point I stood up to leave, but she grabbed me and sat me back down. All I could do was laugh nervously. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. For a moment I felt a little bad for Rajiv. He really wanted to leave, and I was laughing and instigating the whole thing. Then I snapped out of it! Who cares if he really wanted to leave. We were only going back to Gram Chetna to end the day, not off to another home to take more photos. He can give three minutes to take this woman up on her drink and run chai invite.
So that’s exactly what happened. As we were drinking another boy walks up. It turns out to be one of the sponsored children who still needed to have his photo and information taken down. Indian mom turns to me, gives a little smile and we share a look. He was in such a rush to leave!
This is the part of the story I wanted to keep a surprise until the end. As we said our quick goodbyes raindrops began to fall on our heads. You have no idea the immense joy this rain brought me! This last week has been intolerably hot. With the rain, the temperature suddenly became cooler and the breeze, although humid, was so refreshing. The drive back home was a little harsh with the drops smacking against our cheeks, but I didn’t mind at all. The rain was a perfect way to finish up the day.
It’s amazing how much a day like today can lift my spirits. This Sunday I believe John, Prashand and I are heading into Jaipur for the day on the bus. This will give me a chance to see how to get to Jaipur and back to Khedi Milak again. I don’t think I am going to be spending many more weekends sitting around here, twiddling my thumbs. Once I figure out how to get to and from Jaipur, I’ll be getting out of here on a weekly basis.
MCC
Yea, I actually said that. For the last three weeks we really haven’t had much to do here at Gram Chetna, except write annual reports. I’ve expressed my frustrations with writing the reports to you all, so I’m going to move past that. Actually, I’m finishing the last one up in the next day or two and it isn’t too unpleasant. Yesterday I hit a wall with my procrastinating. That’s usually how it goes. I’ll putz around, not doing any real work on a specific project, then all of the sudden I realize there‘s no getting out of it. Then I’ll get to work.
That’s what happened yesterday and now I’m a machine. And really, the report is not that bad. It’s boring, tedious, and I really don’t know what I’m talking about. But all in all, it’s not horrible.
But, holy crap do they have more work for us?!?! Two days ago Prashand asked me to take a look at a grant from the Australian Embassy, adding there was no rush because nothing needs to be submitted for a month or so. Then Amit asks me to write a proposal for another organization. But for this project… well, there is no project, yet. That’s for me to develop, along with the budget and everything else. What?!
On another note, I don’t think I was entirely accurate when I said I don’t really like it here. When I’m out on field visits I love India and Gram Chetna. It’s just when I’m stuck on this compound, the same place I sleep, eat, work, and spend my free time, I get a little tired of it. Today turned out to be one of the great days. It involved a bit of hard work, a women’s group visit, a dust storm, going to a party, hunting down kids for sponsorship photos, meeting a woman who wanted to adopt me, and one special surprise I’m going to make you wait for.
The first half of the day was spent in the office. I asked Rajiv if he was going on any field visits today. I was hoping to tag along because I haven’t left this place in what feels like forever. He said he was going sometime in the afternoon and asked if I could handle the midday heat. I cringed on the inside, but thought if I said no due to the heat I might not get another chance. That, and if I wimped out because of the heat I’d be a little disappointed with myself, too.
So at about 2:00 p.m. I slapped on some sun block and hopped on the motorbike. The first stop was a Self-Help Group (SHG) meeting. Just to give you the inside scoop, SHG meetings are not a bunch of people sitting around talking about their daddy issues. When I first heard the term I thought it was some sort of group therapy session, but it’s not. SHGs are groups of around 20 women who save money together, and take turns borrowing different amounts. It’s one of the many forms of microfinance prevalent in the developing world. The groups and the meetings are pretty much run by the members themselves. But most, if not all, of the women are illiterate, so Rajiv has to keep the groups’ books.
The meetings themselves are a little boring and I never really understand what is going on. Today there were two arguments over what? I don‘t know. One kid kept tickling my feet and I became close friends with a group of adolescent girls. As a side note, it’s fun to know that no matter what country you go to, thirteen year old girls get the giggles all the same. Just as the meeting was wrapping up, a dust storm came out of nowhere. I mean nowhere! Clear skies one moment and then suddenly a sandblaster to the face the next. Almost immediately the bickering stopped, the women paid what they needed to pay and everyone went home.
Then, like an angel in the night, a random man appeared through the dust and asked if we’d like to come eat lunch at his house. Rajiv can get a little awkward at times like this. I don’t think he really wanted to go, but he could tell I really wanted him to say yes. I was starving! So we went to this man’s house, which was more like a stable, and we feasted on the floor with his family.
Here I would like to tell you something I’ve been meaning to tell you all for the last two weeks. The number one piece of advice I’ve been given about safe travels in India is under no circumstances ever drink the water. But folks, I’m drinking the water. There is no way not to! When I go on field visits, the first thing I am offered is a plastic lawn chair to sit on. The second item I am offered is a cup of tap water to drink. If I don’t take at least one medium sized swallow, I feel like I’m being rude. A few entries ago I mentioned there are some behaviors for fitting in as a foreign intern. One is no photojournalism, and the other is drink just a little bit of the water.
Where was I? So after lunch, in the style I’m awkwardly growing accustomed to, we left immediately. Next we were off to hunt down children to take their photos and measure their height. This was a little boring and tiresome, so I’ll spare you most of the details. I got to hold a baby, which was cool. And I even made her smile, which is crazy. So far in India, I’ve only made babies cry. The smile was a welcome change.
On the last photo stop we found ourselves at the home of a woman who told me she wanted me as her daughter. This was obviously a rough translation from Rajiv, but it was pretty obvious she thought I was the bees knees. I didn’t even say anything before she had grabbed my hand and was leading me into her house, trying to make me put on prettier clothes. It’s times like this I think Rajiv doesn’t want me with him on field visits. Quite frankly, I cause a scene everywhere I go. He always has to explain what I’m doing there and where I am from, he has to translate messages, accept invitations for chai, the list goes on and on. I get the feeling, especially when we’re out taking pictures, that he just wants to get in and get out. But when I’m there everything is a big elaborate production.
There are many joint families in this area, meaning several generations on one bit of land, sharing common living space. While at this home I was taken into one house and I was given chai. Rajiv left me while he was taking pictures and collecting information on the various kids in the nearby homes. So I was left chillin in this house with a bunch of people who didn’t speak English. So there was a lot of smiling and laughing going on. About ten minutes later Rajiv returned so we could head back to Gram Chetna. We had almost walked to the road when my Indian mom yelled something about chai. Rajiv said something back, but before he finished the sentence the woman had come out of her house and had me by the wrist. Despite Rajiv’s protests she was pulling me back towards her home.
She had already began to make us chai, which usually involves milking the family goat. I thought it would be rude to leave, but Rajiv really didn’t want to stay. I told him that he could make the decision, telling her we couldn’t stay. At one point I stood up to leave, but she grabbed me and sat me back down. All I could do was laugh nervously. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. For a moment I felt a little bad for Rajiv. He really wanted to leave, and I was laughing and instigating the whole thing. Then I snapped out of it! Who cares if he really wanted to leave. We were only going back to Gram Chetna to end the day, not off to another home to take more photos. He can give three minutes to take this woman up on her drink and run chai invite.
So that’s exactly what happened. As we were drinking another boy walks up. It turns out to be one of the sponsored children who still needed to have his photo and information taken down. Indian mom turns to me, gives a little smile and we share a look. He was in such a rush to leave!
This is the part of the story I wanted to keep a surprise until the end. As we said our quick goodbyes raindrops began to fall on our heads. You have no idea the immense joy this rain brought me! This last week has been intolerably hot. With the rain, the temperature suddenly became cooler and the breeze, although humid, was so refreshing. The drive back home was a little harsh with the drops smacking against our cheeks, but I didn’t mind at all. The rain was a perfect way to finish up the day.
It’s amazing how much a day like today can lift my spirits. This Sunday I believe John, Prashand and I are heading into Jaipur for the day on the bus. This will give me a chance to see how to get to Jaipur and back to Khedi Milak again. I don’t think I am going to be spending many more weekends sitting around here, twiddling my thumbs. Once I figure out how to get to and from Jaipur, I’ll be getting out of here on a weekly basis.
MCC
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Meh...
It is one hot day here in Khedi Milak! We checked the forecast and we’re supposed to be getting scorching, sunny weather until Sunday, when it may rain. Everyone is getting sick of the hot season and the countdown to the start of the monsoon has begun!
To deal with the heat, air coolers have been set up in a window of each room. I say this like they were just rolled out today. No, there are air coolers in the windows year round, they are just set on high on days like this. An air cooler is in theory like a window AC unit, but not nearly as effective. It’s a huge contraption that must be occasionally filled with water. The bottom half is a water reservoir and the top half is a big fan. The water is somehow shot up through a fibrous filter, which look like hardened yellow Easter basket grass, and the air is cooled as is passes through. Although the air is in no way “cool”, it does take the edge off days like this.
One drawback, however, is that the fan in the big office is in a window that seems to be right where all of the men like to go pee. Instead of walking to the toilets, which are by no means far away, the men pee in a little alley behind the building. This alley is also near the kitchen. So not only the office, but the kitchen, too, always smells like stale piss.
So right now I have the option of sitting by a fan blowing pissy air in my face, or I can move and sweat my balls off. Decisions, decisions…
I really don’t know why no one else finds this offensive. The men’s penchant for peeing all over the place is the one thing I just can’t get used to. The littering hurts my soul, the burping is a bit gross, the spitting is still kind of nasty, but for the most part I can cope. I just don’t understand the need to pee on the side of the building in which you work, or ten feet away from where you eat, instead of walking a little further to a proper toilet.
Ok. Enough of that. I’m sure you are all beginning to notice I’m not too content here. It’s true, but I don’t want to fill my blog with complaints and insensitive remarks on another culture. There are great things about India. Those great things generally happen when I am not sequestered inside Gram Chetna, like field visits and eat and run marriage celebrations.
Ooooh! That’s another thing I wanted to tell you about. Back home, we would refer to marriage celebrations as weddings. I’ve always thought that having the word wedding, as opposed to some term like marriage celebration, puts an emphasis on a one day event of a wedding, instead of the lifetime commitment of a marriage. In a way, to me at least, this conjures up a subconscious notion that a wedding is a separate from the marriage. Really, when I go to a wedding, I’m not celebrating that one specific wedding day. I’m celebrating the start of a marriage, and two people making the decision to spend the rest of their lives together. Does that make sense?
Anyway, that’s that. I just felt the need to balance out my trash talking by giving some praise.
And yesterday I had a bug down the leg of my pants. I was using the internet and I kept feeling something tickling my thigh. I went to scratch it and felt a large lump. At first the lump felt like it was just another bug bite, but then I noticed I couldn’t feel it when I touched it, as if it wasn’t a part of my skin. I quickly realized it was a HUGE bug and started punching my thigh. I was screaming at the time, but I didn’t know it. I stood up, was shaking my leg and hopping up and down. I then realized I had to get my pants off, NOW! Since I was in the office on one side of the building, I had to run to my room, on the other end of the long portico. I was screaming the entire way, past Big Boss, past the head of education, past everyone. I got to my room, slammed the door, stripped my pants off and out fell a beetle the size of my thumbnail. I let out a loud, “God d*mn it!” and then stood in shock for a few seconds. I thought about what I must have looked like and laughed to myself.
I composed myself, walked out of my bedroom and back to the office. Big Boss looked very concerned as I tried to explain I had a beetle in my pants. He seemed to understand, or at least understand I wasn’t dying, and smiled kindly. I went back to the office and continued my business. But I couldn’t stop feeling bugs crawling all over me. Even as I write about it, I am imagining the little tickle of several bugs on my skin. Gross.
Love ya!
To deal with the heat, air coolers have been set up in a window of each room. I say this like they were just rolled out today. No, there are air coolers in the windows year round, they are just set on high on days like this. An air cooler is in theory like a window AC unit, but not nearly as effective. It’s a huge contraption that must be occasionally filled with water. The bottom half is a water reservoir and the top half is a big fan. The water is somehow shot up through a fibrous filter, which look like hardened yellow Easter basket grass, and the air is cooled as is passes through. Although the air is in no way “cool”, it does take the edge off days like this.
One drawback, however, is that the fan in the big office is in a window that seems to be right where all of the men like to go pee. Instead of walking to the toilets, which are by no means far away, the men pee in a little alley behind the building. This alley is also near the kitchen. So not only the office, but the kitchen, too, always smells like stale piss.
So right now I have the option of sitting by a fan blowing pissy air in my face, or I can move and sweat my balls off. Decisions, decisions…
I really don’t know why no one else finds this offensive. The men’s penchant for peeing all over the place is the one thing I just can’t get used to. The littering hurts my soul, the burping is a bit gross, the spitting is still kind of nasty, but for the most part I can cope. I just don’t understand the need to pee on the side of the building in which you work, or ten feet away from where you eat, instead of walking a little further to a proper toilet.
Ok. Enough of that. I’m sure you are all beginning to notice I’m not too content here. It’s true, but I don’t want to fill my blog with complaints and insensitive remarks on another culture. There are great things about India. Those great things generally happen when I am not sequestered inside Gram Chetna, like field visits and eat and run marriage celebrations.
Ooooh! That’s another thing I wanted to tell you about. Back home, we would refer to marriage celebrations as weddings. I’ve always thought that having the word wedding, as opposed to some term like marriage celebration, puts an emphasis on a one day event of a wedding, instead of the lifetime commitment of a marriage. In a way, to me at least, this conjures up a subconscious notion that a wedding is a separate from the marriage. Really, when I go to a wedding, I’m not celebrating that one specific wedding day. I’m celebrating the start of a marriage, and two people making the decision to spend the rest of their lives together. Does that make sense?
Anyway, that’s that. I just felt the need to balance out my trash talking by giving some praise.
And yesterday I had a bug down the leg of my pants. I was using the internet and I kept feeling something tickling my thigh. I went to scratch it and felt a large lump. At first the lump felt like it was just another bug bite, but then I noticed I couldn’t feel it when I touched it, as if it wasn’t a part of my skin. I quickly realized it was a HUGE bug and started punching my thigh. I was screaming at the time, but I didn’t know it. I stood up, was shaking my leg and hopping up and down. I then realized I had to get my pants off, NOW! Since I was in the office on one side of the building, I had to run to my room, on the other end of the long portico. I was screaming the entire way, past Big Boss, past the head of education, past everyone. I got to my room, slammed the door, stripped my pants off and out fell a beetle the size of my thumbnail. I let out a loud, “God d*mn it!” and then stood in shock for a few seconds. I thought about what I must have looked like and laughed to myself.
I composed myself, walked out of my bedroom and back to the office. Big Boss looked very concerned as I tried to explain I had a beetle in my pants. He seemed to understand, or at least understand I wasn’t dying, and smiled kindly. I went back to the office and continued my business. But I couldn’t stop feeling bugs crawling all over me. Even as I write about it, I am imagining the little tickle of several bugs on my skin. Gross.
Love ya!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
So What!
I think I’ll soon have to adopt what I call the So What attitude. It’s hot? So what. The windy heat is drying out my eyes? So what. I can feel the sweat drops rolling down my chest and back? So what. The wind, heat, and dust are ruining my nails and drying out my skin? So what.
I have to accept the fact that the heat, wind and sand aren’t going to kill me. I most definitely have a constant urge to run away from this environment when it gets too uncomfortable. I think that’s normal for a western person visiting the desert in June. When I start to sweat, and I mean really sweat, I want to escape and cool off so badly. But there is nowhere to go. When my feet start looking nasty I want to hit the bath with my pumice stone, exfoliate those bad boys and give myself a pedicure! But that simply isn’t possible here.
These desert living conditions are harsh and pretty unbearable, but I’m not going to die here. I need to remember that. And also remember to drink lots of water. I’m a firm believer in what doesn’t kill you (usually) makes you stronger. I can do this… I can do this…
Last night we went to a wedding. Actually, we went to two weddings. The first wedding was the wedding for one of the teachers employed at one of the Gram Chetna preschools. It was not only her wedding, but her sisters as well. It was so interesting to see two sisters share a wedding without the animosity that would surely be present if it was in the USA and probably any other western country. Weddings are expensive, and the bride’s family has to pay for the whole thing as well as provide a dowry. So why not knock out two birds with one stone?
I wished we could have stayed a little longer, but we had to get to the second wedding. We only had time to walk back to the house and said hello to Bride 1 and Bride 2. We sat down in the yard for a few minutes, had some sweets and left just as the coconuts and other ceremonial stuff were being rounded up. Bummer.
The second wedding was for a young lady in Big Boss’ family. I have no idea who is who, but this young lady was someone’s niece. Indian wedding etiquette is very unfamiliar to me. At the second wedding, we didn’t see the bride or groom; we ate dinner and walked out. There were no congratulations, no introductions, no gift giving, we didn’t even stay for a ceremony. We walked in, sat down, gorged ourselves, and 15 minutes later we were on the motorbikes headed home. It was a quintessential eat and run. I asked Rajiv if that was acceptable wedding behavior. He said it was completely fine and that there was no requirement to stay and visit.
Interesting.
We are patiently awaiting the arrival of another intern. By we I mean I am patiently awaiting the arrival of another intern. She was supposed to arrive on Sunday, but no dice. John is really great and all, make no mistake. He helped me buy the right mangos in the market, he organized the whole trip to Pushkar, he lets me use his computer to access the internet, the list goes on and on. But to put it simply, I need a female companion. I am very much a girl’s girl and all this man business is wearing me down. I’m sure you’ve all picked up on that by now. I just worry that I’m looking forward to her arrival too much; I may meet her and be really disappointed.
Oh! And John figured out a solution to the electrified water cooler. When we want water we have to put on at least one flip flop, two if you‘re not lazy. That way the electricity can not be grounded or something. To be honest, I don’t really know much about how electricity travels. However, you should see everyone balancing on one flip flop while filling their water containers… It’s pretty funny.
K, Bye!
MCC
I have to accept the fact that the heat, wind and sand aren’t going to kill me. I most definitely have a constant urge to run away from this environment when it gets too uncomfortable. I think that’s normal for a western person visiting the desert in June. When I start to sweat, and I mean really sweat, I want to escape and cool off so badly. But there is nowhere to go. When my feet start looking nasty I want to hit the bath with my pumice stone, exfoliate those bad boys and give myself a pedicure! But that simply isn’t possible here.
These desert living conditions are harsh and pretty unbearable, but I’m not going to die here. I need to remember that. And also remember to drink lots of water. I’m a firm believer in what doesn’t kill you (usually) makes you stronger. I can do this… I can do this…
Last night we went to a wedding. Actually, we went to two weddings. The first wedding was the wedding for one of the teachers employed at one of the Gram Chetna preschools. It was not only her wedding, but her sisters as well. It was so interesting to see two sisters share a wedding without the animosity that would surely be present if it was in the USA and probably any other western country. Weddings are expensive, and the bride’s family has to pay for the whole thing as well as provide a dowry. So why not knock out two birds with one stone?
I wished we could have stayed a little longer, but we had to get to the second wedding. We only had time to walk back to the house and said hello to Bride 1 and Bride 2. We sat down in the yard for a few minutes, had some sweets and left just as the coconuts and other ceremonial stuff were being rounded up. Bummer.
The second wedding was for a young lady in Big Boss’ family. I have no idea who is who, but this young lady was someone’s niece. Indian wedding etiquette is very unfamiliar to me. At the second wedding, we didn’t see the bride or groom; we ate dinner and walked out. There were no congratulations, no introductions, no gift giving, we didn’t even stay for a ceremony. We walked in, sat down, gorged ourselves, and 15 minutes later we were on the motorbikes headed home. It was a quintessential eat and run. I asked Rajiv if that was acceptable wedding behavior. He said it was completely fine and that there was no requirement to stay and visit.
Interesting.
We are patiently awaiting the arrival of another intern. By we I mean I am patiently awaiting the arrival of another intern. She was supposed to arrive on Sunday, but no dice. John is really great and all, make no mistake. He helped me buy the right mangos in the market, he organized the whole trip to Pushkar, he lets me use his computer to access the internet, the list goes on and on. But to put it simply, I need a female companion. I am very much a girl’s girl and all this man business is wearing me down. I’m sure you’ve all picked up on that by now. I just worry that I’m looking forward to her arrival too much; I may meet her and be really disappointed.
Oh! And John figured out a solution to the electrified water cooler. When we want water we have to put on at least one flip flop, two if you‘re not lazy. That way the electricity can not be grounded or something. To be honest, I don’t really know much about how electricity travels. However, you should see everyone balancing on one flip flop while filling their water containers… It’s pretty funny.
K, Bye!
MCC
Very Much Hot!
"Very much hot" is what they say here instead of it's really hot.
I suppose it’s my own fault for traveling to India in the summer months. Even Mr. Vinod told me anyone traveling to Rajasthan in June is stupid. He said this jokingly, of course, but the meaning is still the same.
I’m feeling myself approaching my wit’s end with the heat. Yesterday was the hottest day of the year; the temperature hit a sweltering 118 degrees. I even moved my cot outside last night but I was still so hot I couldn’t sleep. That means I’m tired and cranky and it’s still overwhelmingly hot today. I’m beginning to think I can only take so much of this. I don’t want to begin hating India because of the heat, but that’s what very well might happen.
I have to keep in mind that the monsoon will be coming soon. It was predicted to arrive on June 15th, but we were all brutally disappointed. I was even a little spoiled my first few days here - there was a cold spell and a little bit of rain. I actually had to break out my insulated rain jacket. But since that first week it has been hanging unused on a hook in my room, mocking me.
I should say some nice things about this place. Yesterday was Sunday, the Gram Chetna day off. Rajiv lives in a rented room next door so he spent the afternoon with John and me. We went to this temple in the mountains. Haha. No we didn’t. We drove up to a temple on a hill and walked about 10 minutes to the top. It was quite an intense 10 minutes due to the record breaking heat, but we made it. I now understand why men and women cover their heads in desert lands. I brought a scarf for the off chance I might need it, and ended up wrapping it around my head. The change was unbelievable. Without my head covered I felt like I was frying my brain. With a scarf draped over my head Old Hollywood style, I felt like I was in the shade. It was great.
The temple was cool. There were some old priests there sitting around, eating and smoking ganga. There was another guy playing the drums and singing hymns. John, Rajiv and I ended up sitting on a rug under this thatched roof, hanging out. We must have spent three hours just sitting and doing nothing. At one point I heard an old man voice behind me saying, “I am a disco dancer!” I saw Rajiv and John both looking past me, laughing. I turned around to see a seemingly 100 year old toothless priest doing a shuffle of some sort. When he noticed I had turned to look to did it again. Too funny! After that we headed back down, stopping for chai before getting on the motorbike. We zipped through a few villages, and finally stopped for papaya juice and I picked up some fresh mangos and honey and milk ice cream. Yum.
When we got back the neighbors wanted me to come over and hang out. The neighboring family is so wonderful! It is a mom and her two daughters. Her husband has moved to Mumbai for work and comes back every few weeks. The mom and her two daughters are three of the most beautiful women I’ve seen in India. Since my arrival, I’ve quickly realized that India has some of the most beautiful people I’ve ever encountered. But these three young ladies take the grand prize! And it’s all natural beauty, too. No eyeliner and lipstick, no braces or liposuction. These women are simply perfect. Anyway, I hung out with them for an hour or two. By hanging out I mean they stared at me and I smiled sweetly back at them. It’s interesting how much people can communicate with smiles and awkward hand gestures. If Rajiv is there he can translate, but I think he gets tired of it.
I went back home and did my laundry. Now my dear readers, me hand washing my own laundry is generally a big fat joke. I fill two buckets, putting soap in one and just water in the other. By early evening the water has been cooking in the pipes all day and is fairly hot. Thank god for the hot water! Without it I’d be left completely to my own skills. I’ve given my washing system a name; I call it the punching method. I just grab a chunk of clothes in my fist and punch it in and out of the water until by forearm and bicep gets tired. I feel like this is doing something because the water gets all dirt colored and murky. Then I ring out each article and throw it in the second bucket full of clean water. I rinse out bucket number one and refill it. I repeat the punching method on the second bucket, wringing out the clothes and throwing them in bucket number three. By the third time, the water is usually pretty clear so I move on to the clothes line. I ring the clothes out like a wimp and drape the dripping over the metal clothesline. Then, magically, everything is dry in about 20 minutes. I return to the clothesline to find that most of the stuff has blown off and is in the dirt or near the toilets. But I don’t really care. I shake it out, fold it all up and put it on my clothes shelf. And that’s how I do my laundry.
As diner at Gram Chetna was ready to eat, I received an invitation through Rajiv that the neighbor family invited John and I back over for dinner. Since I love these ladies I jumped at the chance. I had been to the outside of their home several times, but have never been inside the house. I walked through the door and was headed down a long hallway. A room to my right was empty except for the floor being covered with onions. I continued down the hall and entered in the dirt floor main room, which was a big rectangle with half open to the sky. In one corner there was an open fire where the mom and older daughter were frying bread. A fresh, clean tablecloth was laid out on the cot and the younger daughter, Renku, brought us each out a plate. The food was so good! Bread is a staple in all Rajasthani meals and this bread was like a deep fried chipati - amazing. We were given a small dish of onion and potato curry and a huge bowl of sweet rice pudding. I need to get the recipe for this rice stuff before I go home. I think its rice and raisins cooked in milk and sweetened with sugar some mystery spice. Its name is Mary Loves Me.
After dinner they asked if I had any pictures of my family. This being the digital age, I have no printed photos of anything. I told them I could quickly get some pictures on my laptop and bring my computer over. I ran back to Gram Chetna with Renku to sign online. Luckily the connection was quick and I was able to download some to bring back. But then my laptop battery died! So I walked back, defeated, and told them it would have to wait till tomorrow. I don’t know why I was so excited to show them or why I was so bummed to have to wait a day. Maybe it’s because I miss you all so much!
I suppose it’s my own fault for traveling to India in the summer months. Even Mr. Vinod told me anyone traveling to Rajasthan in June is stupid. He said this jokingly, of course, but the meaning is still the same.
I’m feeling myself approaching my wit’s end with the heat. Yesterday was the hottest day of the year; the temperature hit a sweltering 118 degrees. I even moved my cot outside last night but I was still so hot I couldn’t sleep. That means I’m tired and cranky and it’s still overwhelmingly hot today. I’m beginning to think I can only take so much of this. I don’t want to begin hating India because of the heat, but that’s what very well might happen.
I have to keep in mind that the monsoon will be coming soon. It was predicted to arrive on June 15th, but we were all brutally disappointed. I was even a little spoiled my first few days here - there was a cold spell and a little bit of rain. I actually had to break out my insulated rain jacket. But since that first week it has been hanging unused on a hook in my room, mocking me.
I should say some nice things about this place. Yesterday was Sunday, the Gram Chetna day off. Rajiv lives in a rented room next door so he spent the afternoon with John and me. We went to this temple in the mountains. Haha. No we didn’t. We drove up to a temple on a hill and walked about 10 minutes to the top. It was quite an intense 10 minutes due to the record breaking heat, but we made it. I now understand why men and women cover their heads in desert lands. I brought a scarf for the off chance I might need it, and ended up wrapping it around my head. The change was unbelievable. Without my head covered I felt like I was frying my brain. With a scarf draped over my head Old Hollywood style, I felt like I was in the shade. It was great.
The temple was cool. There were some old priests there sitting around, eating and smoking ganga. There was another guy playing the drums and singing hymns. John, Rajiv and I ended up sitting on a rug under this thatched roof, hanging out. We must have spent three hours just sitting and doing nothing. At one point I heard an old man voice behind me saying, “I am a disco dancer!” I saw Rajiv and John both looking past me, laughing. I turned around to see a seemingly 100 year old toothless priest doing a shuffle of some sort. When he noticed I had turned to look to did it again. Too funny! After that we headed back down, stopping for chai before getting on the motorbike. We zipped through a few villages, and finally stopped for papaya juice and I picked up some fresh mangos and honey and milk ice cream. Yum.
When we got back the neighbors wanted me to come over and hang out. The neighboring family is so wonderful! It is a mom and her two daughters. Her husband has moved to Mumbai for work and comes back every few weeks. The mom and her two daughters are three of the most beautiful women I’ve seen in India. Since my arrival, I’ve quickly realized that India has some of the most beautiful people I’ve ever encountered. But these three young ladies take the grand prize! And it’s all natural beauty, too. No eyeliner and lipstick, no braces or liposuction. These women are simply perfect. Anyway, I hung out with them for an hour or two. By hanging out I mean they stared at me and I smiled sweetly back at them. It’s interesting how much people can communicate with smiles and awkward hand gestures. If Rajiv is there he can translate, but I think he gets tired of it.
I went back home and did my laundry. Now my dear readers, me hand washing my own laundry is generally a big fat joke. I fill two buckets, putting soap in one and just water in the other. By early evening the water has been cooking in the pipes all day and is fairly hot. Thank god for the hot water! Without it I’d be left completely to my own skills. I’ve given my washing system a name; I call it the punching method. I just grab a chunk of clothes in my fist and punch it in and out of the water until by forearm and bicep gets tired. I feel like this is doing something because the water gets all dirt colored and murky. Then I ring out each article and throw it in the second bucket full of clean water. I rinse out bucket number one and refill it. I repeat the punching method on the second bucket, wringing out the clothes and throwing them in bucket number three. By the third time, the water is usually pretty clear so I move on to the clothes line. I ring the clothes out like a wimp and drape the dripping over the metal clothesline. Then, magically, everything is dry in about 20 minutes. I return to the clothesline to find that most of the stuff has blown off and is in the dirt or near the toilets. But I don’t really care. I shake it out, fold it all up and put it on my clothes shelf. And that’s how I do my laundry.
As diner at Gram Chetna was ready to eat, I received an invitation through Rajiv that the neighbor family invited John and I back over for dinner. Since I love these ladies I jumped at the chance. I had been to the outside of their home several times, but have never been inside the house. I walked through the door and was headed down a long hallway. A room to my right was empty except for the floor being covered with onions. I continued down the hall and entered in the dirt floor main room, which was a big rectangle with half open to the sky. In one corner there was an open fire where the mom and older daughter were frying bread. A fresh, clean tablecloth was laid out on the cot and the younger daughter, Renku, brought us each out a plate. The food was so good! Bread is a staple in all Rajasthani meals and this bread was like a deep fried chipati - amazing. We were given a small dish of onion and potato curry and a huge bowl of sweet rice pudding. I need to get the recipe for this rice stuff before I go home. I think its rice and raisins cooked in milk and sweetened with sugar some mystery spice. Its name is Mary Loves Me.
After dinner they asked if I had any pictures of my family. This being the digital age, I have no printed photos of anything. I told them I could quickly get some pictures on my laptop and bring my computer over. I ran back to Gram Chetna with Renku to sign online. Luckily the connection was quick and I was able to download some to bring back. But then my laptop battery died! So I walked back, defeated, and told them it would have to wait till tomorrow. I don’t know why I was so excited to show them or why I was so bummed to have to wait a day. Maybe it’s because I miss you all so much!
Friday, June 18, 2010
What?
Today is my father’s birthday! Happy birthday, Dad! I don’t have a phone here so I don’t know how I would call to wish you a happy birthday. I hope an email and a blog announcement is sufficient. I am going to ask around whether there is a phone somewhere around here where I can pay to make an international telephone call.
Since beginning at Gram Chetna I have had limited contact with Big Boss, or Mr. Om Pradesh Sharma. We call him Big Boss or O.P. instead of his long name. I’m not sure if they are nicknames he is aware of, or if they are what the subordinates call him behind his back. He never speaks to me anyway, so it doesn’t matter as far as I‘m concerned. Instead of getting my directions and assignments from Big Boss, I have directions given to me by Rajiv and sometimes John. I usually have a very limited understanding of what I’m supposed to be doing because of this. The other guy who speaks English, Prashand, was off getting married for the last three weeks. He just arrived back at Gram Chetna today. He called me over to his desk for a chat, and now I finally have an idea what is expected of me.
Saying Big Boss never speaks to me is a bit of an exaggeration. About a week ago, he came up to me and John and asked what we were up to. He nodded and smiled as John told him about the annual reports. Then he turned to me and I told him what things I was working on. I write things as if I am multi-tasking, which I’m not really doing. I told him I was wrapping up the annual report on education. I didn’t add that I was moving on to any other reports because I thoroughly intend on avoiding that like the plague. Big Boss then told me that when I was done with the report on education, he would like for me to research additional funding sources on the internet, and then start writing for grants.
I could not have been happier with that news! Writing for money is forte which I like to think I can do in my sleep. I was overjoyed! Yes, I was overjoyed. That was until my conversation with Prashand a few moments ago. He explained that they have an amazing staff at Gram Chetna, especially the field workers. The area in which they lack is the documentation side. He also explained that Gram Chetna’s relationship with a major funding source is coming to an end soon. Annual reports, and other documentation, need to be excellent this year to secure other funding sources. Finding these other funding sources has hypothetically been assigned to me, but the primary focus right now is finishing high quality reports to show to potential money granting organizations in the coming months.
Uggghhhh!!! I thought it was going to be smooth sailing from here on out. But instead, I must write more reports on programs I know nothing about. Oh, the disappointment!
In other news, I had my three-weeks-in-India meltdown yesterday. Well, calling it a meltdown is blowing it a bit out of proportion. Basically, I have been very frustrated with many things since arriving in India, and specifically Gram Chetna. My frustrations are primarily caused by constantly being surrounded by Indian men. It’s not really worth going into detail over. I’m a firm believer that if you don’t have anything nice to say, write your cynical friend an email. But certainly don’t blog about it. Also, I am fully aware that I have only been in close contact with a small group of rural, conservative men and that may not be an accurate representation of the entire male population in India.
Anyway, yesterday morning I was feeling especially annoyed over three weeks worth of nonsense. And then I had the unfortunate experience of spilling boiling hot tea on my leg. At the time it seemed entirely appropriate to stomp off to my bedroom like a drama queen. I just wanted to get away from the men! They are everywhere! Burping, farting, spitting, peeing on the side of the road, showering with the door open, telling me my nickname is baby doll… Gag.
So I stormed off. The Indians I have met don’t really understand the need for “alone time“, so everyone thought I was embarrassed and needed to see a doctor. I kept telling them I was fine, but they simply didn’t realize that I wanted them to kindly go away. After two hours of sulking in my bedroom, it was time to head into the office. I walked in, still annoyed, and John asked if I was OK. I explained that I was just a little sick of the place. That was not entirely true, but John is in obvious need of empathy skills, and hasn’t shown himself to really understand the difficulties of being a female traveler in this backward part of India. Regardless, he wisely advised me to find some sanity saving activity to do that can emotionally take me away from this place and these men everyday. He explained that without a solo activity, Gram Chetna can easily make a person crazy. He exercises on the roof every morning; that is his release.
I thought long and hard all day yesterday about what I wanted to do for my solo activity. I thought I could take a walk, but decided walking in the desert heat sounded a little too much like spending an hour in hell. There are two bikes here, one has a flat tire and the other belongs to Govind. He would surely let me borrow it in the mornings. So yesterday at about 12:30 in the afternoon, I decided that going for a daily bike ride would be my solo sanity saving activity.
I woke up this morning looking forward to my adventure! After tea I asked Govind to lend me his bike and I was off. I can’t even describe the looks I received. First of all, seeing a female foreigner in this part of Rajasthan is odd enough. But if she’s alone and riding a bicycle you have something to stop and stare at. Most people just dropped their jaws and watched me ride pass. Others yelled out greetings and waved. I decided to be as friendly as possible, so I waved and smiled at everybody. It was ridiculous! Seeing a tall, skinny, foreign girl riding a bike, waving at everyone and wearing a big, dumb smile surely gave them something to talk about all afternoon.
Haha! Awesome.
The bike ride also gave me an opportunity to take some photos. I haven’t been taking many pictures because I don’t want to alienate myself from the local people, or the Gram Chetna staff. It’s obvious I stand out here; but I am able to put people at ease by behaving a certain way. And that way of behaving does not include playing the role of photo journalist. But somehow the ridiculousness of a foreigner riding a bicycle makes certain behavior more appropriate. On the bike I’m not an American girl interning at Gram Chetna. I’m an outrageously friendly and bizarre lone tourist on a bicycle, and I am able to take all the photos I want. And I do.
I’ll end this entry with a funny, yet scary little anecdote. There is a water cooler right outside of the main office here at the organization. The staff says it also filters the water, but I’m not sure about that. I’ve been drinking it for about two weeks and I’ve just now gotten over the stomach issues it originally gave me. Anyway, yesterday afternoon, John left the office to fill his bottle and he came back chuckling to himself. I asked him what was so funny and he told me this story. He’s always had strange circulation in his hands; sometimes they feel like they have fallen asleep and get tingly. When he touched the cooler his hands went tingly and he thought they were acting up again. He then realized that the water cooler was in a puddle of water and somehow an electrical current was running through the entire appliance. Just as he realized it was electricity and not his circulation problems, Rajiv walked by. He told Rajiv that the cooler was electrified and someone should call an electrician. Rajiv calmly explained that there was nothing wrong with the cooler. John just wasn’t used to electricity, yet.
When he told me this story I, of course, had to check it out for myself. The cooler was in fact electrified. And it’s happened three times since. It’s a really weak current, so it really just tickles the skin and not much more. Later that day Rajiv asked me if he could get some photos off my camera. His battery ran out while in the field yesterday and luckily I had grabbed my camera before heading out the door. I plugged the USB cord into his computer and ZING! The metal decorative accents on the outside of my camera shocked the crap out of me. This time it was no tingle, it burned! I was worried for my camera so I quickly uploaded the pictures and unplugged it. I told Rajiv, and again he dismissed the problem as nothing. He said “all cameras have a current.” Whatever that means…
This would all be fairly comical if Prashand’s new bride’s brother didn’t just die in an electrical accident last week. I don’t know the details of what happened. The young man was 24 years old and just doing some repairs around his house. As I sit writing this at my desk, I look up and see a fan hooked up to electricity by two wires stuck in an electrical socket. Now the water cooler is electrified and it’s normal that a digital camera would shock the hell out of a person when it is plugged into a computer.
All I can do is be careful. Let's just hope I don't get electrocuted while writing an annual report. That death would be much worse than drowning or burning.
Love you!!!xoxo
Since beginning at Gram Chetna I have had limited contact with Big Boss, or Mr. Om Pradesh Sharma. We call him Big Boss or O.P. instead of his long name. I’m not sure if they are nicknames he is aware of, or if they are what the subordinates call him behind his back. He never speaks to me anyway, so it doesn’t matter as far as I‘m concerned. Instead of getting my directions and assignments from Big Boss, I have directions given to me by Rajiv and sometimes John. I usually have a very limited understanding of what I’m supposed to be doing because of this. The other guy who speaks English, Prashand, was off getting married for the last three weeks. He just arrived back at Gram Chetna today. He called me over to his desk for a chat, and now I finally have an idea what is expected of me.
Saying Big Boss never speaks to me is a bit of an exaggeration. About a week ago, he came up to me and John and asked what we were up to. He nodded and smiled as John told him about the annual reports. Then he turned to me and I told him what things I was working on. I write things as if I am multi-tasking, which I’m not really doing. I told him I was wrapping up the annual report on education. I didn’t add that I was moving on to any other reports because I thoroughly intend on avoiding that like the plague. Big Boss then told me that when I was done with the report on education, he would like for me to research additional funding sources on the internet, and then start writing for grants.
I could not have been happier with that news! Writing for money is forte which I like to think I can do in my sleep. I was overjoyed! Yes, I was overjoyed. That was until my conversation with Prashand a few moments ago. He explained that they have an amazing staff at Gram Chetna, especially the field workers. The area in which they lack is the documentation side. He also explained that Gram Chetna’s relationship with a major funding source is coming to an end soon. Annual reports, and other documentation, need to be excellent this year to secure other funding sources. Finding these other funding sources has hypothetically been assigned to me, but the primary focus right now is finishing high quality reports to show to potential money granting organizations in the coming months.
Uggghhhh!!! I thought it was going to be smooth sailing from here on out. But instead, I must write more reports on programs I know nothing about. Oh, the disappointment!
In other news, I had my three-weeks-in-India meltdown yesterday. Well, calling it a meltdown is blowing it a bit out of proportion. Basically, I have been very frustrated with many things since arriving in India, and specifically Gram Chetna. My frustrations are primarily caused by constantly being surrounded by Indian men. It’s not really worth going into detail over. I’m a firm believer that if you don’t have anything nice to say, write your cynical friend an email. But certainly don’t blog about it. Also, I am fully aware that I have only been in close contact with a small group of rural, conservative men and that may not be an accurate representation of the entire male population in India.
Anyway, yesterday morning I was feeling especially annoyed over three weeks worth of nonsense. And then I had the unfortunate experience of spilling boiling hot tea on my leg. At the time it seemed entirely appropriate to stomp off to my bedroom like a drama queen. I just wanted to get away from the men! They are everywhere! Burping, farting, spitting, peeing on the side of the road, showering with the door open, telling me my nickname is baby doll… Gag.
So I stormed off. The Indians I have met don’t really understand the need for “alone time“, so everyone thought I was embarrassed and needed to see a doctor. I kept telling them I was fine, but they simply didn’t realize that I wanted them to kindly go away. After two hours of sulking in my bedroom, it was time to head into the office. I walked in, still annoyed, and John asked if I was OK. I explained that I was just a little sick of the place. That was not entirely true, but John is in obvious need of empathy skills, and hasn’t shown himself to really understand the difficulties of being a female traveler in this backward part of India. Regardless, he wisely advised me to find some sanity saving activity to do that can emotionally take me away from this place and these men everyday. He explained that without a solo activity, Gram Chetna can easily make a person crazy. He exercises on the roof every morning; that is his release.
I thought long and hard all day yesterday about what I wanted to do for my solo activity. I thought I could take a walk, but decided walking in the desert heat sounded a little too much like spending an hour in hell. There are two bikes here, one has a flat tire and the other belongs to Govind. He would surely let me borrow it in the mornings. So yesterday at about 12:30 in the afternoon, I decided that going for a daily bike ride would be my solo sanity saving activity.
I woke up this morning looking forward to my adventure! After tea I asked Govind to lend me his bike and I was off. I can’t even describe the looks I received. First of all, seeing a female foreigner in this part of Rajasthan is odd enough. But if she’s alone and riding a bicycle you have something to stop and stare at. Most people just dropped their jaws and watched me ride pass. Others yelled out greetings and waved. I decided to be as friendly as possible, so I waved and smiled at everybody. It was ridiculous! Seeing a tall, skinny, foreign girl riding a bike, waving at everyone and wearing a big, dumb smile surely gave them something to talk about all afternoon.
Haha! Awesome.
The bike ride also gave me an opportunity to take some photos. I haven’t been taking many pictures because I don’t want to alienate myself from the local people, or the Gram Chetna staff. It’s obvious I stand out here; but I am able to put people at ease by behaving a certain way. And that way of behaving does not include playing the role of photo journalist. But somehow the ridiculousness of a foreigner riding a bicycle makes certain behavior more appropriate. On the bike I’m not an American girl interning at Gram Chetna. I’m an outrageously friendly and bizarre lone tourist on a bicycle, and I am able to take all the photos I want. And I do.
I’ll end this entry with a funny, yet scary little anecdote. There is a water cooler right outside of the main office here at the organization. The staff says it also filters the water, but I’m not sure about that. I’ve been drinking it for about two weeks and I’ve just now gotten over the stomach issues it originally gave me. Anyway, yesterday afternoon, John left the office to fill his bottle and he came back chuckling to himself. I asked him what was so funny and he told me this story. He’s always had strange circulation in his hands; sometimes they feel like they have fallen asleep and get tingly. When he touched the cooler his hands went tingly and he thought they were acting up again. He then realized that the water cooler was in a puddle of water and somehow an electrical current was running through the entire appliance. Just as he realized it was electricity and not his circulation problems, Rajiv walked by. He told Rajiv that the cooler was electrified and someone should call an electrician. Rajiv calmly explained that there was nothing wrong with the cooler. John just wasn’t used to electricity, yet.
When he told me this story I, of course, had to check it out for myself. The cooler was in fact electrified. And it’s happened three times since. It’s a really weak current, so it really just tickles the skin and not much more. Later that day Rajiv asked me if he could get some photos off my camera. His battery ran out while in the field yesterday and luckily I had grabbed my camera before heading out the door. I plugged the USB cord into his computer and ZING! The metal decorative accents on the outside of my camera shocked the crap out of me. This time it was no tingle, it burned! I was worried for my camera so I quickly uploaded the pictures and unplugged it. I told Rajiv, and again he dismissed the problem as nothing. He said “all cameras have a current.” Whatever that means…
This would all be fairly comical if Prashand’s new bride’s brother didn’t just die in an electrical accident last week. I don’t know the details of what happened. The young man was 24 years old and just doing some repairs around his house. As I sit writing this at my desk, I look up and see a fan hooked up to electricity by two wires stuck in an electrical socket. Now the water cooler is electrified and it’s normal that a digital camera would shock the hell out of a person when it is plugged into a computer.
All I can do is be careful. Let's just hope I don't get electrocuted while writing an annual report. That death would be much worse than drowning or burning.
Love you!!!xoxo
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Pushkar!
Hi everyone!
I am in Pushkar, like the subject says. All of India is plagued by shitty keyboards. I think it's the dust. Anyways, Pushkar is a an old desert city of which I have limited knowledge. All I know is that there are a lot of temples, and during the high season this place is flooded with hippies and other stoners. Within an hour or arriving, John and I were offered a joint at a restaurant, and I was offered more while enjoying a chai and a book at a roof top cafe. If it's not a joint, it's a "special lassi" made with baang. Either way, this town attracts a certain type of tourist. It's a little like the Indian version of Amsterdam.
Getting here was a trip. First we had to ride three on a motorbike about 4 miles to a neighboring village for a bus. The bus stalled twice! The firt time, the driverwas able to open the hood and jimmy with something. The second time a few strong men were called out to push Little Miss Sunshine style. The driver did the thing with the clutch and the engine started again. After an extremely long ride, stopping at ten stations, we made it to Ajmer. But we didn't have any time to check it out. We had to hop on the next bus out of there to get to Pushkar. It seemed like everyone in all of Rajasthan was also on the bus. It was so packed! I had my back pack on my front side and with every jerk, my pack rubbed against some lady's head. After a while she looked up at me like, "Uh... watch it with the bag, lady!" But there wasn't anything I could do. I had about four square inches for my size 9-1/2 feet and I was swaying like an acrobat from the grab bar. I also had some dude's abdomen ( and his other business) pressed firmly against my side. Did I mention that Pushkar is in the mountains? So to get there the bus had to crawl up about 45 minutes of switchback roads. It was a good example of the phrase hell on earth.
When we finally arrived at the Pushkar bus stop, we started walking to the city center. It's the off season, so we were able to bargain down the price of the rooms to about $3.50 a night. But traveling through the off season comes at a price. It is so unbearably hot! It is at least 110 degrees.
I bought some new clothes for this trip for when I'm traveling after my internship is over. I got a skirt and two tunic style tops. The only problem is that both clothes show parts of my body that have mostly been covered for the last three weeks. I don't think I know many people who would bother shaving while interning in India, and I certainly haven't. Yesterday a waiter at a cafe said I look French. I couldn't help but think it was because of my underarm hair showing from under my tunic. Part of me wants to buy some razors, and another part thinks I should just own it. I'm surrounded by hippies! A little bit of body hair might actually allow me to fit in a bit better.
This morning I woke up before the sun rose. I've been doing this a lot lately. Usually, I head to bed at around 10:30 and with seven hours of sleep I wake easily and naturally at 5:30ish. I went up to the roof top with the intention of watching the sunraise. John and I had loose plans to head out to a temple at around 7:00, so I didn't bother waking him. I sat in solitude waiting for that epic moment that I would tell people about later. I waited and I waited. Moments earlier, I had dashed out of my room moments earlier without a trip to the bathroom, and it was catching up with me. But I stayed on the rooftop. What if I missed it? The sky was growing lighter and lighter, so I waited. I had to pee so bad but I waited. I began to worry that John would see my locked door and assume I left without him but I continued to wait. I tried to meditate (because that's what do in India, right?) and I waited some more.
The sky and clouds were illuminated! The sun was thisclose to making her daily debut! But I was about to pee my pants! And I hate to say it, but I was a little bored. Why didn't I bring my book? I was also worried that John would wake up, knock on my door and I wouldn't be there. All in all, I realized that I simply may not be the type of person can wait patiently and meditate on a roof top in India while enjoying the sunrise.
And I'm ok with that.
I walked back to my room, used the restroom and knocked on John's door. He was gone! I wrote a note on my door telling him I was out looking for water. I left the hotel and walked down to the main road and I saw him at this little tea stop. I took the seat next to him and could tell he was a little annoyed because he thought I left without him. But he got over it and we headed out to this little coffee and breakfast place. This place specializes in coffee, something not too common in rural Rajasthan. It was a great start to the day.
Bye!
I am in Pushkar, like the subject says. All of India is plagued by shitty keyboards. I think it's the dust. Anyways, Pushkar is a an old desert city of which I have limited knowledge. All I know is that there are a lot of temples, and during the high season this place is flooded with hippies and other stoners. Within an hour or arriving, John and I were offered a joint at a restaurant, and I was offered more while enjoying a chai and a book at a roof top cafe. If it's not a joint, it's a "special lassi" made with baang. Either way, this town attracts a certain type of tourist. It's a little like the Indian version of Amsterdam.
Getting here was a trip. First we had to ride three on a motorbike about 4 miles to a neighboring village for a bus. The bus stalled twice! The firt time, the driverwas able to open the hood and jimmy with something. The second time a few strong men were called out to push Little Miss Sunshine style. The driver did the thing with the clutch and the engine started again. After an extremely long ride, stopping at ten stations, we made it to Ajmer. But we didn't have any time to check it out. We had to hop on the next bus out of there to get to Pushkar. It seemed like everyone in all of Rajasthan was also on the bus. It was so packed! I had my back pack on my front side and with every jerk, my pack rubbed against some lady's head. After a while she looked up at me like, "Uh... watch it with the bag, lady!" But there wasn't anything I could do. I had about four square inches for my size 9-1/2 feet and I was swaying like an acrobat from the grab bar. I also had some dude's abdomen ( and his other business) pressed firmly against my side. Did I mention that Pushkar is in the mountains? So to get there the bus had to crawl up about 45 minutes of switchback roads. It was a good example of the phrase hell on earth.
When we finally arrived at the Pushkar bus stop, we started walking to the city center. It's the off season, so we were able to bargain down the price of the rooms to about $3.50 a night. But traveling through the off season comes at a price. It is so unbearably hot! It is at least 110 degrees.
I bought some new clothes for this trip for when I'm traveling after my internship is over. I got a skirt and two tunic style tops. The only problem is that both clothes show parts of my body that have mostly been covered for the last three weeks. I don't think I know many people who would bother shaving while interning in India, and I certainly haven't. Yesterday a waiter at a cafe said I look French. I couldn't help but think it was because of my underarm hair showing from under my tunic. Part of me wants to buy some razors, and another part thinks I should just own it. I'm surrounded by hippies! A little bit of body hair might actually allow me to fit in a bit better.
This morning I woke up before the sun rose. I've been doing this a lot lately. Usually, I head to bed at around 10:30 and with seven hours of sleep I wake easily and naturally at 5:30ish. I went up to the roof top with the intention of watching the sunraise. John and I had loose plans to head out to a temple at around 7:00, so I didn't bother waking him. I sat in solitude waiting for that epic moment that I would tell people about later. I waited and I waited. Moments earlier, I had dashed out of my room moments earlier without a trip to the bathroom, and it was catching up with me. But I stayed on the rooftop. What if I missed it? The sky was growing lighter and lighter, so I waited. I had to pee so bad but I waited. I began to worry that John would see my locked door and assume I left without him but I continued to wait. I tried to meditate (because that's what do in India, right?) and I waited some more.
The sky and clouds were illuminated! The sun was thisclose to making her daily debut! But I was about to pee my pants! And I hate to say it, but I was a little bored. Why didn't I bring my book? I was also worried that John would wake up, knock on my door and I wouldn't be there. All in all, I realized that I simply may not be the type of person can wait patiently and meditate on a roof top in India while enjoying the sunrise.
And I'm ok with that.
I walked back to my room, used the restroom and knocked on John's door. He was gone! I wrote a note on my door telling him I was out looking for water. I left the hotel and walked down to the main road and I saw him at this little tea stop. I took the seat next to him and could tell he was a little annoyed because he thought I left without him. But he got over it and we headed out to this little coffee and breakfast place. This place specializes in coffee, something not too common in rural Rajasthan. It was a great start to the day.
Bye!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Updatezzzzzz
Hi guys!
I've been in the habit of pre-writing my blogs and uploading when I felt like it. But not today. Today you get a blog entry as it comes to me. I am now reporting to you live from the Middle of Nowhere, Rajasthan.
Yesterday was pretty busy at the office. I sound so professional saying at the office; I like it. Anyway, it was pretty busy. Right now John and I are writing the annual reports. I went from reading annual reports to writing annual reports. If I start dreaming about the annual reports, we're in trouble.
Writing the reports is a bit of a challenge for three main reasons.First of all, I've only been here a week and gone on one field visit. I'm not exactly someone I would consider to be capable of writing an annual report. Second, writing is difficult because the information we need is scattered allover the place in different binders, in different offices, or some of it isn't written down at all. I have to go and hunt down a person who can tell me. Third, and most frustrating, all of the reports are in Hindi.
The good part is that writing the reports takes time, and I have a lot of time here. Although the volunteers are only expected to work five days a week, all of the other employees work Saturdays as well. I'd feel like an ass just loafing around while everyone is working. So John and I also work Saturdays. That means we have six days a week to sit in the office and work on report after report.
John and I have been getting along very well lately. It wasn't as though we didn't get along; things just got a little tense for a day and a half. But we're buddies. This weekend we're going to take a bus to Pushkar for two days. He spent three months in India two years ago, and he says it is worth the trip. The bus leaves at 6:00 a.m. on Saturday and I think we're coming back on Monday afternoon.
Alright, that's all I have for now. Govind the cook wants me to tell all in an email that he cooks good food. In the next blog I am going to introduce you to the staff here. It's all a bunch of dudes in their late 20s. Things tend to get pretty silly around here.
Love!
I've been in the habit of pre-writing my blogs and uploading when I felt like it. But not today. Today you get a blog entry as it comes to me. I am now reporting to you live from the Middle of Nowhere, Rajasthan.
Yesterday was pretty busy at the office. I sound so professional saying at the office; I like it. Anyway, it was pretty busy. Right now John and I are writing the annual reports. I went from reading annual reports to writing annual reports. If I start dreaming about the annual reports, we're in trouble.
Writing the reports is a bit of a challenge for three main reasons.First of all, I've only been here a week and gone on one field visit. I'm not exactly someone I would consider to be capable of writing an annual report. Second, writing is difficult because the information we need is scattered allover the place in different binders, in different offices, or some of it isn't written down at all. I have to go and hunt down a person who can tell me. Third, and most frustrating, all of the reports are in Hindi.
The good part is that writing the reports takes time, and I have a lot of time here. Although the volunteers are only expected to work five days a week, all of the other employees work Saturdays as well. I'd feel like an ass just loafing around while everyone is working. So John and I also work Saturdays. That means we have six days a week to sit in the office and work on report after report.
John and I have been getting along very well lately. It wasn't as though we didn't get along; things just got a little tense for a day and a half. But we're buddies. This weekend we're going to take a bus to Pushkar for two days. He spent three months in India two years ago, and he says it is worth the trip. The bus leaves at 6:00 a.m. on Saturday and I think we're coming back on Monday afternoon.
Alright, that's all I have for now. Govind the cook wants me to tell all in an email that he cooks good food. In the next blog I am going to introduce you to the staff here. It's all a bunch of dudes in their late 20s. Things tend to get pretty silly around here.
Love!
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Weekend!
My relationship with John, the other volunteer, is quickly becoming a one sided pissing contest. It’s one sided because I really don’t care to compete with him, and he‘s constantly trying to one up me. He’s just angry that I was asked to write a grant proposal, and not him. He’s the one who has been here for one month, gone on tens of field visits, and thinks he knows everything. But I was asked to write a proposal. Ha! In all honesty, it’s highly probable that I was asked because it is for an American organization, and I am an American person who has earned a college degree. John has one more year before finishing his bachelor‘s; in India that means something. Those two reasons are most likely the entire reason I was asked, nothing more.
I don’t even understand why he’s getting his panties in a bunch! In a few short days he is going to have to sit down with an English speaking staff member and translate an entire annual report. That’s huge! My Canadian friend needs to simply get the eff over it. Unless he’s hoping to go home with great stories about securing additional grant funding, and translating an entire annual report, there is no point competing for accomplishments. Yes, I want go home feeling like my time spent here was for something. But as long as things get done, we all win. Right?
My relationship with him isn’t all bad. He extended an invite to me to go on a field visit to see some service participants. I jumped at the chance but was a little worried about the transport. Rajiv, John and I would have to ride on motorcycle. When I seemed to hesitate, John asked if I was scared to ride (see pissing contest above). I told him I wasn’t scared of the motorcycle. I was scared of the motorcycle, no helmet and Indian traffic rules. It was the combination of the three that made the endeavor seem a little dodgy.
But I said yes. How could I not? We rode out three on the bike with no helmets, roaring down the decrepit rural roads, getting edged into the dirt by the passing tractors and overloaded trucks. We went to three villages and were served chai at every single stop. If things became too scary, I just closed my eyes. I learned that trick when riding the matatus in Kenya. In the end I was invited to spend a week milking cows at one home, I held a baby at another home, scared the living daylights out of a baby somewhere else, and I’ll gladly do the same thing tomorrow.
I don’t even understand why he’s getting his panties in a bunch! In a few short days he is going to have to sit down with an English speaking staff member and translate an entire annual report. That’s huge! My Canadian friend needs to simply get the eff over it. Unless he’s hoping to go home with great stories about securing additional grant funding, and translating an entire annual report, there is no point competing for accomplishments. Yes, I want go home feeling like my time spent here was for something. But as long as things get done, we all win. Right?
My relationship with him isn’t all bad. He extended an invite to me to go on a field visit to see some service participants. I jumped at the chance but was a little worried about the transport. Rajiv, John and I would have to ride on motorcycle. When I seemed to hesitate, John asked if I was scared to ride (see pissing contest above). I told him I wasn’t scared of the motorcycle. I was scared of the motorcycle, no helmet and Indian traffic rules. It was the combination of the three that made the endeavor seem a little dodgy.
But I said yes. How could I not? We rode out three on the bike with no helmets, roaring down the decrepit rural roads, getting edged into the dirt by the passing tractors and overloaded trucks. We went to three villages and were served chai at every single stop. If things became too scary, I just closed my eyes. I learned that trick when riding the matatus in Kenya. In the end I was invited to spend a week milking cows at one home, I held a baby at another home, scared the living daylights out of a baby somewhere else, and I’ll gladly do the same thing tomorrow.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Pre-written Entry 2
6/4/10
Yesterday was my first working day at the GCK. To become familiar with the organization’s many programs, failures, successes and future goals, I had to spend the entire day reading annual reports from the last three years. At first the reading was enthralling, but it quickly became monotonous and repetitive. The organization’s main focuses are the Family Helper Program, women‘s Self Help Groups, and a loan program to purchase dairy animals with the acronym LEEP. The reports were full of acronyms, some without any sort of explanation, and some for things only mentioned once. One acronym was eight letters long, and actually more complex than the program’s full name.
There is an internet connection at the center, but it is dial-up and can take a long time to connect. That means I probably will not be getting online very often, and I will only be able to post photos when I make the trip to Jaipur. I decided not to purchase a SIM card for my phone, as of right now. That might change, but I really don’t feel the need for a telephone right now.
Before dinner last night, we were invited over to visit the neighboring family. I wish I could have understood what the mother was saying! She was all smiles and hand gestures, so I just smiled back. She fed me a huge plate full of watermelon covered in salt. It was a little weird, but I ate as much as I could without spoiling my appetite for the simple and delicious dinner Govind, the cook/general helper, was preparing.
It rained really hard while everyone was sleeping last night. I had both of my windows open to catch the cool breeze. For the first time since arriving in India one week ago, I woke up from my sleep and needed to put more clothes on! Normally I have to sleep on my back with my limbs spread away from my body just so I don’t sweat my skin off. But last night I had to put a jacket on to stay warm. Rajiv says that the temperature should be about 25 degrees Centigrade today. That, my friends, is amazing.
Tomorrow is Saturday, which means I have the day off. I don’t have any reason to head into Jaipur, but I think staying around the organization might get a little boring. Also, I don’t know if John is going into the city. I don’t know how to get in on my own.
Yesterday was my first working day at the GCK. To become familiar with the organization’s many programs, failures, successes and future goals, I had to spend the entire day reading annual reports from the last three years. At first the reading was enthralling, but it quickly became monotonous and repetitive. The organization’s main focuses are the Family Helper Program, women‘s Self Help Groups, and a loan program to purchase dairy animals with the acronym LEEP. The reports were full of acronyms, some without any sort of explanation, and some for things only mentioned once. One acronym was eight letters long, and actually more complex than the program’s full name.
There is an internet connection at the center, but it is dial-up and can take a long time to connect. That means I probably will not be getting online very often, and I will only be able to post photos when I make the trip to Jaipur. I decided not to purchase a SIM card for my phone, as of right now. That might change, but I really don’t feel the need for a telephone right now.
Before dinner last night, we were invited over to visit the neighboring family. I wish I could have understood what the mother was saying! She was all smiles and hand gestures, so I just smiled back. She fed me a huge plate full of watermelon covered in salt. It was a little weird, but I ate as much as I could without spoiling my appetite for the simple and delicious dinner Govind, the cook/general helper, was preparing.
It rained really hard while everyone was sleeping last night. I had both of my windows open to catch the cool breeze. For the first time since arriving in India one week ago, I woke up from my sleep and needed to put more clothes on! Normally I have to sleep on my back with my limbs spread away from my body just so I don’t sweat my skin off. But last night I had to put a jacket on to stay warm. Rajiv says that the temperature should be about 25 degrees Centigrade today. That, my friends, is amazing.
Tomorrow is Saturday, which means I have the day off. I don’t have any reason to head into Jaipur, but I think staying around the organization might get a little boring. Also, I don’t know if John is going into the city. I don’t know how to get in on my own.
Pre-written Entry 1
6/3/10
Yesterday afternoon I arrived at my volunteer placement, my home away from home for the next ten weeks. For two months leading up to my departure, I had been a little worried that I would be the only volunteer working for the organization the majority of my time in India. Imagine my delight when I learned that there was another volunteer here, who would be staying for almost the entire time of my stay.
Jon, a 23 year old Canadian, is working on some sort of internship, class or directed study through his university in Alberta. He is studying international development, set to graduate next year. So far we’ve been getting to know each other and getting along pretty well.
The organization is surrounded by a cement wall, with an metal entry gate. There is a dirt path leading up to a very slippery, sand covered ramp, leading to another dirt path, leading up to the main building. The main building is shaped like a U with the offices to the right, and my dormitory to the left. The walls on the front side of the building are covered with blue squares and rectangles showing charts of program statistics, maps of the region, and posters of the organization’s vision and mission statement. Some of these posters and charts are hand written in English, others in Hindi.
I could not have asked for more friendly people to have at a host organization. After I met with the director and the person I would be working with in the main office, I was taken on a tour to meet the rest of the staff and see the other offices. There are about 15 other men who work for the organization, filling various roles from accounting to teaching. At least I think that’s true; it was a little difficult to understand what was being told to me.
After the workday, which ends at 5ish, all the guys sat in the grassy shade and chatted with one another until dusk. Most of what was being said was in Hindi, so I didn’t understand a single word of it. I brought my Hindi phrase book out from my luggage and it was passed around, a few guys taking turns at having a look. One man sitting next to me took the book, opened to a page, turned to me and read, “What is your religion?” Very few conversation topics are off limits in India, and that question seemed to be the perfect transition to even more personal questions - how often do I pray, when will I get married, my stance on arranged marriage vs. love marriage, how many children are appropriate in a family, questions about my family members, et. al.
Dinner was served pretty late, and I was beyond starving my the time food was in front of me. It was simple, and delicious. Like a true Irish girl, I would eat potatoes day and night. Luckily dinner was a curry dish of potatoes and onions, and all you can eat chapatti. We all eat with our hands; and even though I washed my hands and even showered after dinner, my fingers were still stained curry yellow when I woke this morning.
I love this.
Last night’s sleep was fitful due to the extreme heat of the desert, and my fan cutting off every so often. At the hotels I was staying at, I would just sleep with the fan on, in my undies. Even then I would be hot. But my dormitory is on the first floor, and my bed is right in front of a window. I have the feeling that it would be a little inappropriate to be sleeping next to naked. The guys sleep on the roof, in the open air, under the stars. I’m jealous. I would do it too, but again, I think that would be inappropriate.
Yesterday afternoon I arrived at my volunteer placement, my home away from home for the next ten weeks. For two months leading up to my departure, I had been a little worried that I would be the only volunteer working for the organization the majority of my time in India. Imagine my delight when I learned that there was another volunteer here, who would be staying for almost the entire time of my stay.
Jon, a 23 year old Canadian, is working on some sort of internship, class or directed study through his university in Alberta. He is studying international development, set to graduate next year. So far we’ve been getting to know each other and getting along pretty well.
The organization is surrounded by a cement wall, with an metal entry gate. There is a dirt path leading up to a very slippery, sand covered ramp, leading to another dirt path, leading up to the main building. The main building is shaped like a U with the offices to the right, and my dormitory to the left. The walls on the front side of the building are covered with blue squares and rectangles showing charts of program statistics, maps of the region, and posters of the organization’s vision and mission statement. Some of these posters and charts are hand written in English, others in Hindi.
I could not have asked for more friendly people to have at a host organization. After I met with the director and the person I would be working with in the main office, I was taken on a tour to meet the rest of the staff and see the other offices. There are about 15 other men who work for the organization, filling various roles from accounting to teaching. At least I think that’s true; it was a little difficult to understand what was being told to me.
After the workday, which ends at 5ish, all the guys sat in the grassy shade and chatted with one another until dusk. Most of what was being said was in Hindi, so I didn’t understand a single word of it. I brought my Hindi phrase book out from my luggage and it was passed around, a few guys taking turns at having a look. One man sitting next to me took the book, opened to a page, turned to me and read, “What is your religion?” Very few conversation topics are off limits in India, and that question seemed to be the perfect transition to even more personal questions - how often do I pray, when will I get married, my stance on arranged marriage vs. love marriage, how many children are appropriate in a family, questions about my family members, et. al.
Dinner was served pretty late, and I was beyond starving my the time food was in front of me. It was simple, and delicious. Like a true Irish girl, I would eat potatoes day and night. Luckily dinner was a curry dish of potatoes and onions, and all you can eat chapatti. We all eat with our hands; and even though I washed my hands and even showered after dinner, my fingers were still stained curry yellow when I woke this morning.
I love this.
Last night’s sleep was fitful due to the extreme heat of the desert, and my fan cutting off every so often. At the hotels I was staying at, I would just sleep with the fan on, in my undies. Even then I would be hot. But my dormitory is on the first floor, and my bed is right in front of a window. I have the feeling that it would be a little inappropriate to be sleeping next to naked. The guys sleep on the roof, in the open air, under the stars. I’m jealous. I would do it too, but again, I think that would be inappropriate.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Tourist Time!
Hi everyone! Two blogs in a row. Lucky you!
Today was my day to explore the city. Mr. Vinod arranged for a rickshaw driver to take me to all of the tourist spots in the Pink City. This included Hawa Mahal, City Palace, the Water Palace, the Amber Fort and this astronomical observatory with the world's largest sun dial. The trip was supposed to start at 9:30, and it actually started right on time. The temperature at 9:30 a.m. was bearable, but it quickly became close to 115 degrees Fahrenheit. I had enough water, but it was so hot and the sun was blindingly bright! I was ridiculously cautions with my sunscreen, and I'm happy for it.
The Amber Fort was by far the most impressive of the places I visited today. It is a huge structure that seems to go on forever, and is like a labyrinth inside. Unfortunately the Amber Fort was at the very end of the six hour tour, and I was completely pooped by the time I got there. I was able to make the best of it by reminding myself that I will not have another chance to check it out. Ever. That seemed to do the trick because I walked it from end to end, or at least as far as I could get. At first, every hall way I walked down led to the exit. I was able to get further in eventually, but by the time I wanted to leave the exit was nowhere in sight. Talk about frustrating.
The Amber Fort was much nicer than the Red Fort I visited in Delhi. I was amazed that as a tourist, there was very little to which I didn't have access. I can imagine that if the fort was in the U.S., only 1/5 would be open to tourists. The specific path would be roped off for visitors to follow, replica room furnishings from the era would full a few rooms, guard rails would have been drilled into the 4,000 year old walls. In a way, I'm glad I was able to walk everywhere, see whatever rooms I wanted to see, take pictures I wanted to take. But another part of me sees this ancient, historical fort being trashed, touched and vandalized six days a week from now until eternity. It makes me a little sad.
I took many, many pictures and I'll upload them soon. Right now I have about 15 minutes before Mr. Vinod comes to my guest house to talk with me for an hour and then we go to dinner. I'm so starving now, but dinner doesn't happen till at least 7:30. Good thing I bought digestive biscuits at the market today. They're pretty good - think Ritz cracker mixed with a vanilla wafer. It'll do till dinner.
**Update: I have uploaded my pictures onto Facebook. Click here to see them.***
Today was my day to explore the city. Mr. Vinod arranged for a rickshaw driver to take me to all of the tourist spots in the Pink City. This included Hawa Mahal, City Palace, the Water Palace, the Amber Fort and this astronomical observatory with the world's largest sun dial. The trip was supposed to start at 9:30, and it actually started right on time. The temperature at 9:30 a.m. was bearable, but it quickly became close to 115 degrees Fahrenheit. I had enough water, but it was so hot and the sun was blindingly bright! I was ridiculously cautions with my sunscreen, and I'm happy for it.
The Amber Fort was by far the most impressive of the places I visited today. It is a huge structure that seems to go on forever, and is like a labyrinth inside. Unfortunately the Amber Fort was at the very end of the six hour tour, and I was completely pooped by the time I got there. I was able to make the best of it by reminding myself that I will not have another chance to check it out. Ever. That seemed to do the trick because I walked it from end to end, or at least as far as I could get. At first, every hall way I walked down led to the exit. I was able to get further in eventually, but by the time I wanted to leave the exit was nowhere in sight. Talk about frustrating.
The Amber Fort was much nicer than the Red Fort I visited in Delhi. I was amazed that as a tourist, there was very little to which I didn't have access. I can imagine that if the fort was in the U.S., only 1/5 would be open to tourists. The specific path would be roped off for visitors to follow, replica room furnishings from the era would full a few rooms, guard rails would have been drilled into the 4,000 year old walls. In a way, I'm glad I was able to walk everywhere, see whatever rooms I wanted to see, take pictures I wanted to take. But another part of me sees this ancient, historical fort being trashed, touched and vandalized six days a week from now until eternity. It makes me a little sad.
I took many, many pictures and I'll upload them soon. Right now I have about 15 minutes before Mr. Vinod comes to my guest house to talk with me for an hour and then we go to dinner. I'm so starving now, but dinner doesn't happen till at least 7:30. Good thing I bought digestive biscuits at the market today. They're pretty good - think Ritz cracker mixed with a vanilla wafer. It'll do till dinner.
**Update: I have uploaded my pictures onto Facebook. Click here to see them.***
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)