"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!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
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.
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