The Final Post (for now)

"What India Offers to the Tourist

No region in the world is more colorful or picturesque than India [...] To the lover of nature, the botanist and the naturalist India offers every charm in forest, valley, cultivated plain, or desert waste. For the sportsman, India furnishes such as few countries do: tiger, panther, bear, elephant [...] To the mountaineer, the Himalayas offer the highest mountains in the world [...] The art collector and souvenir-hunter will reap a good harvest in this country."
The Handbook of India, 1958

So what is it that appeals to me about India? It must be more than just my love of bright colors. Why have I come back here twice now? Why did I want to learn Hindi? Why am I already daydreaming about my next Indian adventure? It doesn't make a lot of sense in many ways. It's hot here. It's dirty. The bathrooms are gross. I get harassed walking down the street. I can't dress the way I want to or go out alone or blend into my surroundings. I have to see devastating poverty on a daily basis. So where's the fun in that? Why would I love a place where I have to spend my birthday vomiting on the bathroom floor or where I wonder if every mosquito bite is malarial or where things go wrong so frequently that the first two phrases I learned in Hindi were kya hoa? (what happened?) and theek hai (it's fine)?

On a train recently the man sitting next to me asked me this same question--why India? I told him I didn't really know and he said, "In India we believe in reincarnation. You were Indian before. This is why."

The only explanation I can offer is this. I really love that in spite of everything that goes wrong here, nothing ever really goes wrong. In India even the horrible days are great. My vomit-colored birthday, for example, turned out to be one of the funniest and most memorable days of the summer. It didn't take me long in India to learn that trying to control any situation is futile. My plans inevitably get ruined, but something hilarious and exciting always ends up happening instead. When I learned to really let go here I learned that there is some kind of blissful peace to be found squeezing your way through the noisiest, sweatiest, most crowded bazaar. I learned that when food is so spicy that you sweat and cry that that is also when it tastes the best. I learned that when you are drenched from wading through monsoon-flooded streets that that is the most fun time to walk into a beauty salon. I learned that at that most inopportune moment for someone to knock on your door when you're not wearing pants and mid-way through washing your face, it might turn out to be the hotel staff there to give you a going-away present and Hindu blessing for safe travel home. I just never know what to expect here, but I always expect a fantastic experience.

I don't really know if that explains it.

I can say only one thing with certainty. In Jaisalmer, the crazy, shirtless, Aussie-slang-using owner of the restaurant where I was eating asked me how many times I had visited India. When I told him this was my second long trip he said, "Twice? Oh. So I think now you are addicted, no?"

"Yes," I said, "I'm definitely addicted."

Craic / Mazaa Fusion

There's a theory in ethnochoreology that suggests Irish dance developed after Spanish travelers to Ireland introduced the foot-stomping actions of flamenco to the Irish in the 1500's. The theory also suggests that flamenco originated from Indian settlers in Europe who brought kathak traditions with them. By this theory you could say that Irish dance has it's most distant origins here in India.

But that doesn't mean that Indian people are not totally shocked when they see Irish dancing.

I can't really explain what happened here, but last night, in some kind of strange cultural fusion, I found myself Irish dancing in India. I was wearing Indian clothes, I came onstage right after a quiet traditional Hindi song, and everything else about the situation seemed pretty distinctly Indian, but hopefully my little intro to Irish culture didn't come as too much of a shock to people.

Here is the video.

Please pay no mind to the mistakes or the lack of cardiovascular stamina I've developed after a very sedentary summer.

बंदर (n) Monkey

Three monkey-related stories from two long journeys through India to please my one weird sister.
Hyderabad, January 2009
I had just arrived in India. A group of my fellow study-abroad students and I had decided to go out and enjoy a trip to the movies. It was meant to be a real Bollywood experience for a group of wide-eyed India newcomers. Before the movie we decided to eat next to the theater at Domino's. Going out for a movie and eating American pizza with American pop-music playing in the background all felt so familiar and easy. "Surely, this India place isn't that different from America!" we thought. We ate our pizza congratulating ourselves on our ability to acclimate to this new cultures so quickly. Then, a rumbling from the roof and the crashing of a ceiling tile to the floor. The hind-legs and tail of a screeching monkey swung through a vacant hole in the ceiling. We looked on, startled. The creature scurried back into the hole never to be seen again. A Domino's employee came to sweep up the broken pieces of ceiling from the floor. The customers returned to their pizza and the Americans in the room returned to their culture shock.

Dharamsala, April 2009
After a semester in India I was escaping the stress of school and the deadly heat of Hyderabad by taking a relaxing-ish ten-day trip by myself through India's Himalayan region. I had been enjoying the laid-back atmosphere of this tiny, Tibetan Buddhist, hill town. I hadn't ever felt this relaxed in Hyderabad. I was even inspired to take a leisurely stroll through the forest! I brought a book with me! I breathed in the clean mountain air! After a while on the road I spotted a bench! A bench?! In the shade?! With no one sitting on it?! This is the rarest thing in India! I was amazed. I sat down, opened my book and began to read. After a while, a cute little Tibetan boy wearing a backpack came and stood near the bench waiting for his ride home from school. It all seemed so charming. I read on. Then out of the corner of my left eye I spotted some movement. "Pay it no mind," I thought, "this bench is too precious to give up." Then out of the corner of my right eye, I noticed more movement. I tried to remain calm and keep reading, but the little chirps and screeches that I was now hearing were becoming hard to ignore. I lowered my book and over the pages spotted monkeys--at least four of them--sitting directly in front of me laughing. Then I looked to the left where at least four or five more were sitting. To the right, the same. "This little local boy doesn't seem to be panicking," I thought, "maybe he'll protect me from this impending monkey attack." I tried to keep reading but I couldn't stop imagining how monkey bites must feel and I had the feeling I was being watched. I looked behind me only to find myself face-to-face with the patriarch, a giant monkey with a red, puffy butt and pointy teeth. These were not cute, fuzzy, little Hyderabadi monkeys; they were hairy, scary, Himalayan-sized beasts. I stood up slowly, crept out of the circle of primates closing in around me then began power-walking away from the scene saying a prayer that the little boy I was leaving behind on his own could fend for himself and would not be eaten due to my wimpiness.

Rishikesh, July 2010
Rishikesh was crawling with monkeys. They were on the roofs, in the trees, and always swinging from the industrial-sized wires of the big suspension bridge over the river in the middle of town. Rishikesh was also crawling with cows. Every city in India has cows, but in Rishikesh they were really everywhere. Since it was extremely hot and I was recovering from a sinister bout of Delhi-belly, having to dodge cows on the road every ten feet was especially displeasing to me as I was walking around Rishikesh one day. On my walk I came upon a temple. I was hot and hungry and tired, but I mustered up the energy to stop and take one picture. A monkey and a cow were having a staring contest on the temple's steps. It seemed like too much of an "only in India" moment to pass up, so I weaved through the cows, the monkeys, the motorcycles, and the crowds of people and made my way toward the two animals to take a picture. I got out my camera and held it up waiting for the perfect moment when all of the sudden I felt someone touching my butt. WHAT?! I turned around ready to start yelling at someone only to see that no one was there. I looked down to find the offender was actually a baby cow curiously nudging me with its head. My "Only in India" moment had just become a little more authentic.

teen din aur!

My last week in India is already half way over, but it felt like a long time before the middle of the week arrived. Yesterday and today we did two rounds of final exams. Yesterday's tests were on reading and listening comprehension in which we read and listened to stories then answered SAT-style multiple-choice questions about them. Today 's tests were in grammar and literature which required hours of hand-cramp inducing writing. Having back-to-back days of back-to-back tests was rather brutal, but I actually still get a little "look, Mom! No hands!" kind of thrill every time I form a complete sentence in Hindi, so in spite of the exhaustion, I felt pretty pleased after the last hour of essay writing.

Unfortunately, the hard part is not yet over. Tomorrow we have to give our final oral presentations. I picked yoga as my topic, that way if I really start to butcher my Hindi I can just try to claim to be speaking Sanskrit.

In preparation for my return home I conducted an experiment in which I tried to get all of my belongings into my suitcase. The experiment was a failure. For this reason, I returned to the bazaar yesterday seeking a second, smaller suitcase for my extra stuff. At the saamaan dukaan (suitcase store) the shopkeeper kept bringing out nice-looking options as I kept demanding, "No. Smaller. Cheaper." Finally he showed me a little puke-green duffel bag for 200 rupees ($4) which won me over, in spite of it's very obvious structural flaws, because on the side, in black embroidery it reads "exquise," which is not a word (I checked).

So now, if you'll exquise me, I have a presentation to practice and a little green bag to pack.

Suggestions?

Less than a week left! Anyone have suggestions for final India blog topics? Any India questions remaining unanswered? Now's your chance!

It Translation In Lost Is

India has been a fascinating place to study language because there is not just one official language here. There are in fact, about twenty recognized languages in India with hundreds more local dialects. So with 1.2 billion diverse people speaking hundreds of different languages India's concept of communication is, understandably, quite different from almost anywhere else in the world. The official languages of government and business in India are Hindi and English and most schools require both languages on top of whatever local dialect the area uses. As a result, a lot of Indians, depending on education, are trilingual. English is fairly widespread but I've met everyone from Indians who speak better English than I do to those who don't speak a word. Having English as an official language while also having many people who don't actually speak it means that English is used everywhere, but often it's a very strange interpretation of the language. I have been collecting pictures over my two extended stays in India of interesting versions of English and I've finally decided to share some of my favorites.

A notebook purchased at the University of Hyderabad. A random assortment of English words almost as random as the assortment of images.

The attempt at making Mexican food was as butchered as the attempt to describe it.

You asked for it.

The monkeys always go straight for your goggles and packets.

An understandable warning against swimming.

A less understandable warning against swimming.

Delisious fruts?

Someone was using a thesaurus.

For those watching their veight.

An unlikely place for Pink Floyd.

Don't miss to check the dream heaven on the rof top!

A bad choice of name for an aquarium store.

From the Central Museum in Jaipur. No need for specifics.


And I saved the best for last. A mysterious dessert item offered at an otherwise normal restaurant in Udaipur:

Yes, amusing English is everywhere in this part of the world. The mistakes and strange choices of phrasing are funny, but I have to assume that for Indians, my butchered Hindi is probably even funnier.

Festivities Part 2: The Parade

I'm going to go ahead and say it: India just does holidays far better than we do in the Western Hemisphere. It's a country known for bright colors, noise, large groups of people, and flavorful food, so of course it does. I mean, there's one national holiday here where you take time off just to throw paint at your friends. Why don't we have that?! Teej, I have discovered, is yet another holiday I wish I had access to in the USA if only for the parade.

Teej has been going on for most of this week, but yesterday was the day for the big climactic procession which turned out to be the best parade I've ever been to by far. Now, parades are crowded in the USA, but remember that India has three times the population of the USA in one third of the space, so any given place or event in India is about nine times as crowded as we Americans are used to. As a result, one of the most interesting aspects of the parade excursion turned out to be the people-watching. In the few hours before the parade we saw the street go from crowded to full to far beyond capacity.

Luckily, in addition to crowds, India is also known for generous hospitality. Foreseeing the massive crowds, but also wanting to encourage new visitors, the Rajasthan Tourism Board opens up an above-the-street platform with seats for foreign visitors only. To be honest, it felt kind of awkwardly Imperial to be in this VIP seating looking down on the locals in the street, but on the other hand, it was the best view of any parade I've ever had.In addition to our special seats, my parade-going experience was enhanced by my interactive souvenir. Before the parade, as the streets filled up, I was able to acquire this fantastic novelty combination-hat-and-noisemaker which I wore with pride for the duration of the evening. Happy Teej, indeed!

The parade began with traditional Rajasthani musicians and dancers. This was followed by a procession of elephants, yes elephants! The elephants were followed by camels, yes camels! And after the camels came several big marching bands with extensive processions of turban-wearing tuba players. The parade's finale was the Teej Idol, a big statue carried out on a red velvet chariot at which all of the locals started throwing coins for good luck. I wonder how many rupee-shaped bruises the idol-bearers left the parade with.
I knew the Teej parade was something special when I realized it was the first event I've gone to in India where I've been in danger of running out of both camera memory and battery life. So shabash (bravo) Jaipur! You've dazzled me again.