a field trip

There are a variety of reasons why learning a new language makes you feel like a kindergartner. Understanding the world around you is a little harder, counting above 10 feels like a big accomplishment every time, as does the correct identification of colors or animals. You find yourself "singing along." While we were playing an educational spelling game in class the other day one of my classmates asked what reading level this game was designed for and my teacher laughed and pointed to the "Age 6+" label on the box. All this may be a lesson in humility, perhaps, but on the other hand we also get the fun perks of kindergarten, like fun educational field trips.

Today all of us little grown-up school children loaded onto a bus following our teachers' calls of "Aaiye! Aaiye!" (please come!) to go see three traditional craft factories. The first was a block printing shop where we watched as the printer, a man who proudly told us he was 64 years old and looked like he really knew what he was doing, carefully covered a huge piece of fabric one stamp at a time with prints. These block printed fabrics are everywhere in India so it's always impressive to think that each piece is printed by hand about six inches at a time.

Just around the corner from the printer was a potter's where they make traditional Rajasthani pottery. We watched another talented craftsman effortlessly creating one pot after another on his wheel. The wheel was propelled not by electricity, but by the man occasionally giving it a few big pumps with a huge stick. Like the block printer, he really looked like he knew what he was doing. Of course, after the printer and the potter we were led to a show-room where all of these things were available to buy. Just as we were preparing to leave, the skies opened for powerful monsoon rains. We all enjoyed watching some local kids splash around outside while we wimpily huddled inside. No one was brave enough to join them, so perhaps we haven't fully embraced the kindergartner thing.

When the bus finally returned, we ran through the rain to board then we rode, dripping wet and freezing under the A/C, to the next stop, a paper factory. This was a very interesting place. We saw every part of the process from men splashing around in huge vats of pulp, to little old ladies peeling sheets of the dried paper apart, to craftsmen decorating the paper with printing, embossing, or embroidery, to finally, a line of workers assembling the decorative papers into gift bags and boxes. At the end of the assembly line there was another step in the process--a group of workers peeling stickers and applying price tags to the recently-made boxes. Upon closer inspection it became evident that the price tags bore a familiar logo: Ross. Here we were standing on the other end of American outsourcing. Who knew? The stationery and gift boxes available in your local Ross are made by hand right here in Jaipur. It was especially amusing to see that, not only do the price tags get applied before even leaving the factory, but some of the price tags are already "marked down" to the sale price.
Fun, crafty, educational field trip behind me, I now prepare for the rest of the weekend which will (theoretically) be spent studying. First, true to kindergarten nostalgia, a nap.

well that's odd.

Something is happening to my bedroom wall here in the Gem Inn. Just what exactly, I am not sure.
Let's take a vote: how many people think this looks like the kind of mold/ asbestos flaking that slowly causes you to develop deadly respiratory diseases and/or cancer?

Matapita!

Phyllis and Geoffrey were in Jaipur for the last two days! It was so great/weird/hilarious to see them here.

Monday afternoon when I finished with school I took a rickshaw to their hotel (a place far, far nicer than the Gem Inn) to go meet them. They revealed to me that even having been in India for over a week they had not yet gone shopping and they hadn't had any chai! Clearly, they were in need of some better guidance. I set to work straight away.

First, we went to the Hawa Mahal, one of Jaipur's most famous monuments which, somehow, I still hadn't visited. There isn't really much to do inside the Hawa Mahal, but there are lots of cool windows in there overlooking the old city. Given the great views, all of the visitors to the mahal have their cameras in-hand and this naturally, leads to the typical Indian practice of taking pictures of the foreigners. I left my parents alone for two minutes and turned around to find them in the middle of an Indian family portrait. They reacted to the situation with surprise but my reaction, to this and many of the things that surprised them about India, was, "told you so."
This chai situation was becoming critical. "It's like going to Ireland and not drinking Guinness...except worse," I told Phyllis. This in mind, as soon as we were done with the Hawa Mahal I loaded my parents into a cycle-rickshaw (pictured above--you can see the enjoyment on their faces) to take us down the road to the LMB restaurant, a Jaipur landmark. We drank chai and sweet lassi and ate some chaat (snacks). "So is this kind of like Denny's?" Phyllis asked.

Recharged from tea-time, we began heading toward the bazaar for some shopping. The previous day I had gone to a jeweler's to drop of a ring to be re-sized, so I needed to return to that store to pick it up. When I entered, the store-keeper recognized me; he got out my ring to return to me but also pulled out a bracelet I had been looking at the day before to tempt me with again. I told him that it was still out of my price range. He responded, "Yes, but I see your parents are with you today..." My parents, unfortunately, didn't fall for this.

Jaipur is known for it's big old-city bazaars, so I was glad to hear my parents wanted to go shopping. I was also glad to introduce them to the game of Indian haggling and all of the moves within the game including, "the vaguely interested looking," "the reluctant price inquiry," "the look of outrage," "the Hindi yelling," "the walk-away," and finally, "the sale." It was through these tactfully placed maneuvers that Phyllis and Geoff acquired a new tapestry and a new pair of shoes both for less than half of the asking price. Well played, parents.We were all a little worn out from shopping and after helping my parents translate and negotiate in several rounds of haggling I was fearing I might be developing a bit of a bitchy reputation among the shopkeepers in the bazaar, so it was time to leave. We returned, in Phyllis and Geoff's first auto-rickshaw ride, to their hotel to eat dinner.

On Tuesday morning my parents paid their visit to Amber Fort (where I went last weekend), and took a ride on an elephant in the pouring rain. I'm sure that will make a treasured memory. When they returned from sight-seeing their plan was to pick me up from class, but since they didn't know what time they would arrive and weren't quite sure how to give directions to the school and we don't have the luxury of cell-phone communication, I wasn't sure whether they would ever find me. Imagine my surprise, then, when I stepped out of a classroom to find them sitting and chatting with some of my classmates. They arrived just in time for lunch.

In the afternoon we visited two more Jaipur tourist attractions: Jantar Mantar, and the City Palace. Jantar Mantar is a strange place. Some time in the 18th century Jai Singh, a maharaja, decided he needed some huge-scale devices built in order to get really really accurate astrological readings. As a result, in the middle of Jaipur some very strange contraptions still sit. The area, Jantar Mantar, looks something like a cubist sculpture garden or an explosion of giant sundials. Unfortunately, it was a cloudy day and as our guide explained, "In the cloudy days the sundials take a rest."The City Palace is all very interesting too. Inside there's your typical display of royal weapons, old turbans, decorative ceilings, and mustached maharaja portraits.

After sightseeing, chai again, dinner again, then goodbyes.

This morning my matapita (parents) took off for Udaipur where, I hear, there is now water in the lake. After that they'll go to Mumbai, then back to the USA. I've been trying to remember how I felt back in December 2008 during my first few days in India. I think I was pretty awe-struck and overwhelmed. Judging by that, I'd say Phyllis and Geoff are doing pretty well adjusting to things and getting the hang of Indian travel. If nothing else, I will brag that under my tutelage they are now masters of haggling, rickshaw riding (of the cycle and auto varieties), and chai sipping. I'll teach them the rest on their next trip to India.

Cowboys and India(ns)

Since my real birthday, spent completely alone wishing for death lying on the bathroom floor of a tiny hotel room with no air conditioning in an obscure town in a third world country, was perhaps a worst case scenario, I decided to have a do-over.

At the beginning of the week I started spreading the word amongst my peers, "Friday night. Be there," I told them. Planning large-scale social outings in a country where organization is rare and no one has their own transportation is a little difficult, so I was just hoping I could inspire a few people to actually come out. I suspected I was not the only student in need of a drink though. It turned out I was right.

As I have a very special place in my heart for strangely-themed dive bars, I declared that a place called Amigos should be the location for "Katie's Birthday Strikes Back." Amigos is a place I found with my friends while traveling in Jaipur as a tourist last year and I have been eager to go back since returning to this city. It sits atop a high-rise hotel overlooking the city and when one emerges from the elevator ride up, one finds oneself in a faux mine-shaft. The entrance to the bar looks something like a big wooden barrel and inside the bar a smiling, stuffed horse greets you. Our tables (pictured above) were glass-topped tables resting on strange sculptures of reclining cowboys. The walls were adorned with cowboy paintings and the bar menu included many "Mexican" favorites. We tried the "nachos" which turned out to be something like Doritos served with warm marinara sauce.The bar was empty when we arrived, but by the end of the evening we had completely filled the space and overwhelmed the waitstaff with about 40 American students. Fun was had by all. I was very glad my birthday do-over was blessed with more good karma than my actual birthday.I was informed by my peers that after a few cocktails my Hindi speaking skills drastically improve. Although, I did make the mistake of telling the rickshaw driver on the way home that we wanted to pay one year rupees instead of one hundred rupees (ek sal instead of ek sau) which was probably confusing for him.

Saturday morning, in spite of the previous evening's success, many of us were still able to pull ourselves out of bed early to make it to the school-organized field trip to Amber Fort, one of Jaipur's major attractions.
The fort is a bit of a drive outside the city and as soon as you step out of your car you are surrounded by aggressive souvenir sellers and other annoying tourists, nonetheless, it is a really beautiful place. The weather was actually somewhat pleasant outside! There was a bit of a breeze! And since the monsoon season has been starting the scenery around the fort is green as opposed to dry and arid.
Once you enter the fort you are swarmed once again, not by souvenir sellers, but by men on elephants trying to get you to pay for a brief elephant ride. I didn't take a ride, but being swarmed by elephants is a unique experience on its own.

We walked around the fort for most of the day enjoying the nice views of the city and the surrounding area. The whole area is surrounded by a hills and along the crest of the hills is a huge, pink, Medieval wall that makes for some cool photos. There are, of course, lots of monkeys around to threaten you with screeches whenever you take out your camera.By the time we got back from the fort trip I found myself to be quite tired and accidentally took a three-hour nap--a true testament to the weekend's many successes.

Ek Din

I realized that though this blog is named after Jaipur and I spend that majority of my time here, I really haven't talked about Jaipur very much in this blog. This is in part because when in Jaipur I'm usually going to school, eating, or napping. I have actually yet to visit any of Jaipur's most famous attractions (I will soon! I promise!) But since I've had some questions about what it is that I actually do here, allow me to walk you though a day in the Jaipur life.

I wake up every morning here in my little room at the Gem Inn, the strange hotel that I have been calling home. Usually, upon waking up I am already covered in my first layer of sweat for the day in spite of the air conditioner. In my sleepy state I stumble to my bathroom where I must stand on tip-toes to flip the switch to turn on my water heater which is mounted above my shower. Heating water takes electricity, a scarce resource in a huge Indian desert city, so the water gets heated only when necessary. It takes 15 minutes or so to heat up, giving me some time to flop back onto my rock-hard bed for a bit. Showers in India typically consist of just a bucket and a faucet. At the Gem, I am fortunate enough to have an actual shower-head, but like many Indian bathrooms, the shower is just mounted on the wall and the water leads to a drain in the corner of the bathroom floor, so essentially the whole room is the shower...there's no curtain or door dividing one sections from another.

After showering, I turn the water heater off then go to breakfast. At the Gem, breakfast is served in a strange room in the basement and usually consists of delicious chai, toast, bananas, and maybe cereal (with hot milk, strangely) or porridge.

Those of us students that live in the Gem are carried to school in a vehicle that looks like a minivan, but is about half the size and fits twice the people--at least 7 or 8 passengers can fit in one of these. On the drive to school a few cars and hundreds of motorcycles pass us by, each one's passengers doing double-takes at the van full of Westerners. Stopped at red lights, we usually get little beggar children reaching their arms into our open windows asking for Rupees.

We arrive at school and are greeted "Namaste," by the friendly guard who sits in the building's driveway all day. Our school is located in a little building that looks like a residential apartment and bears a sign reading "Dentist," for a reason that remains unclear to me. By the time we arrive a fresh pot of lemon tea is usually awaiting us.

Classes begin at 9:00 am, but actually usually 9:10. Each classroom is tiny and crowded with several tiny desks. If there's electricity to spare, the A/C will be turned on, otherwise the ceiling fans will be going making it hard to hear, hard to keep papers sitting on your desk, and hard to keep your eyeballs moist. Our schedule is different every day, but today the intermediate students (there are 6 of us) began with conversation class. Our topic for discussion today was "compare life in India and life in America." Our teachers are remarkably patient as we stumble through our sentences in "Hinglish."

After conversation class we headed to our community project class. In this class every week we present a little story about someone we met in the community or some Hindi language experience we had that week. Today I talked about the cat that lived in my hotel on my trip to Rishikesh.

After two classes there is, of course, a break for chai.

After chai, we often go to grammar class. In that class we learn grammar.

Today, our last class of the day was our weekly "monolingual guest presentation." This is where the school invites a member of the community to come speak to us about their job or their life so that we can get exposed to some slang, some vernacular, and some variations in accents. Today they invited a sapera, a snake charmer! Charming indeed!

Today was a pretty typical class load, but on some days we watch movies, or read stories, or have private tutorials... you get the idea. After four classes our day is over and it's time for lunch, which is invariably delicious. Lunch at AIIS, as with most standard Indian meals, usually consists of one chaval (rice) dish, one daal (lentils), two different subze (vegetable curries), yogurt, chapati (flat bread, like a tortilla), and sometimes fruit (like mangoes or papaya) for dessert. Everything is served on a big tin plate and eaten with a spoon.

After school there's usually some time to go out for a bit, or to study (if you're that kind of person). This is the period of time in which I sometimes visit the yoga center near school, but yesterday some girls were going jewelry shopping. I thought that sounded like a great way to procrastinate while also wasting money, so I joined them on a trip to M.I. Road, an old-city shopping area. Jaipur is pretty famous for gem trading, so this was actually a very important part of my cultural immersion...right? I bought these fun gold and ruby earrings. And yes, the casual after-school trip to the gem dealer speaks volumes about the favorable exchange rate in India. And no, I certainly do not go shopping every day.

If one has gone out after school one must find one's way back to the Gem. This involves hailing an auto-rickshaw. As rickshaws are everywhere and they love to pick up foolish foreigners (we once had a rickshaw wallah for our monolingual guest and he admitted it), this is not a problem. However, it usually takes several tries haggling with several different drivers to find someone who will take you back for a good price which should be about 50 Rupees ($1).

We pay the rickshaw wallah and unload outside the Gem. We then walk down the dirt road past the neighborhood goats who live in the shanty-town adjacent to the building. Inside the door we pass the brightly-colored shrine and the big fish tank and are greeted "Namaste!" once again, but the employees at the desk. The Gem probably has about 25 rooms and about 15 employees, most of whom are teenage boys. Most of the employees live in the building and sleep in the lobby at night.

To get to my room I climb three flights of stairs in the hot, humid hallway. I get to my room, number 308, and open the door to a cold burst of air. The A/C cools the room to an icy 28 degrees Celsius (82 degrees Fahrenheit) which is always a drastic change from the temperature in the hallway.

At the Gem we eat dinner around 7:30 pm. On Thursdays, like today, we get Chow Mein. Most other days we get something similar to what we get a school for lunch. And after dinner I can usually motivate myself to begin studying for the next day's round. Tomorrow: an exam.

kya hoa?

Phyllis and Geoffrey have arrived in India! I will not see them in Jaipur until next week, but they're getting closer.

Their mishaps and culture clashes seem to be well underway. Mom speaks of heat and traffic and not being able to understand accents. Dad, I must assume, has been in a constant state of panic since landing. If they take after me at all, they're probably having a great time though.

Unfortunately, this probably means my blog now has no readers.

Putting the "Grim" in Pilgrimage.

**Squeamish Reader Advisory: Gross Content**

I'm Not Making this Stuff Up
Occasionally people tell me things in response to my blogs like, "you're a funny writer." I accept the compliments, but with a guilty conscience and an ever-growing impostor complex. You see, I don't write anything funny. I just go to India, really weird things happen to me, I write the unexaggerated truth, and people find it amusing. There's little skill or creativity involved on my part. I give you, as an example, my four day trip to Rishikesh--a trip which was meant as a relaxing, yoga-filled getaway, and without any effort from me, quickly devolved into (excuse my French) a hilarious shit-show for your entertainment.
Day 1: The Journey Begins
Bus travel is the cheaper, less glamorous alternative to train travel. This is a universal truth. Unfortunately, I am almost never one of those people that is organized enough to book train tickets in advance, and for this reason I have found myself many times in my life in many places in the world spending harrowing evenings trying to fall asleep on overnight buses. My Rishikesh trip was no different. I felt a little awkward as the ride began not because I was the only gori (slang: white person) on board, but because I was the only passenger to start blowing up an inflatable neck-pillow when we sat down. I'll spare you the rest of the details of my journey to Rishikesh--like the ride itself, the description would be long and boring.

Rishikesh is situated in the foothills of the Himalayas and the mouth of the Ganges river, a beautiful, lush, green setting (especially beautiful after weeks of looking at the arid Jaipur desert). As it is a very sacred place it has become the "yoga capital of the world," a popular pilgrimage spot for Hindu worshipers, ashram-goers, sadhus, and hippy tourists. I checked into where I would be staying, The Shri Sant Sewas Ashram and was happy to behold the beautiful Ganges view from my balcony (pictured above). Within a few hours of my arrival I had found myself a nice yoga class to go to. I was looking forward to more yoga and in addition was formulating plans for hikes, temple-visits, massages, photo-taking adventures, cooking classes and a few days of leisurely fun. Very content, I sat down for a delicious dinner at a very cute restaurant. That evening I returned to my hotel and sat on the balcony listening to the quiet singing of pilgrims bathing in the Ganges below and watching big bats fly around in the clouds above. "What a relaxing place this is!" I thought, "What a mundane blog entry this will make!"

I went to bed. A few hours later I woke up suddenly. I ran to the bathroom. Explosive, projectile misery. Thus began my 23rd birthday.

Day 2: "Happy Birthday Katie! Love, India"
Probably just around midnight, I became reacquainted (in all of the disgusting ways) with that delicious dinner I had eaten earlier...and when the dinner was long gone, with every previous meal I have ever eaten. Now, I have experienced upset stomachs and even India-caliber upset stomachs before, but this was nothing like that. No, this was something far more sinister.

The sun began rising outside and I began saying goodbye to each of the fun plans I had made for my birthday and praying to Lord Shiva to kill me. Hours went by as I lay crumpled on my bathroom floor, intestines screaming, trying to exercise this cruel, cruel demon from my body.

In the bleakest hour of my misery I did receive a very nice birthday phone-call from one Mr. Alex Young. Unfortunately for him, as my first human contact of the day, he was burdened with my delirious complaints. For that, I am sorry. I also probably sent my mother into undue panic when I sent her a frantic international text message reading "very ill," without providing any details or follow-up. Also, sorry.

I was finally able to pull myself out of bed around midday to cross the street and buy a Coke which, unlike water, I was able to keep down. That gave me enough energy to sit upright in bed and stare out the window for several more hours.

Toward the end of the day I mustered up the motivation to leave the room one more time. I had one goal for my birthday which not even my digestive system was going to keep me from enacting. Studying Hindi all this time, I had been preparing a single line that I really wanted to say to someone. Looking something like a slimy sea-creature, I crawled from my room at the ashram and headed up the street to a little shop where I wanted to buy a Tibetan singing bowl (see video). I didn't really have enough energy to do my best haggling, but when the shop-keeper named the price I responded with the words I had been practicing for weeks, "लेकिन, मेरा जन्मदिन आज है..." (But, today is my birthday...) He gave me a nice discount. That was all I wanted.

I went to bed around 7pm, happy to say goodbye to that treacherous day. It would have been a disastrous birthday if I didn't find it all so dark and ironic and hilarious.

Day 3: Recovery Begins
I was still not well enough the next morning to have any interest in eating food or going to yoga classes. I thought, instead, a little stroll around Rishikesh might be nice. If you know anything about my infamous sense of direction or my inability to judge distances, however, you probably know that "little strolls" are things I should never attempt, especially not in humid 100 degree heat on an empty stomach. Along the road there were many small adventures, each one probably worthy of an entire blog entry, but I'll leave all that up to your imagination. One story involved more uninvited contact with a cow.

If I was going to be deathly ill while traveling, I figured at least Rishikesh was probably the place to be. Here, in this center for spirituality, surely I could find some mystical healer to bring me back to my old self. The ashram where I was staying houses a "world famous" massage center so I though perhaps an Ayurvedic Massage might do the trick.

I made my appointment, showed up, and was ushered back to a little room where an ancient Indian woman was squatting in the corner. I have had a few massages in my life, and I have worked in two spas with yoga jobs, so I feel like I have a pretty good understanding of how the whole massage scenario is supposed to play out and it's typically not like this. The woman and I smiled and stared awkwardly at each other for several seconds. I set down my purse and removed my shoes. She didn't seem to speak English, but she began making gestures that communicated something about my clothing. Hmmm...I looked around the room...No dim lighting? No discreet dressing room? No towels or robes? She kept nodding and beckoning. I seemed to be past the point of no return and I long ago lost any hope of maintaining any dignity in this country, so it seemed like my only option was to disrobe. I just really hoped this woman was going to be professional about this. At least she didn't point or laugh.

She called me over to the suspicious mattress on the floor and began dousing me with what I suppose were very healing Ayurvedic oils for the massage. As she massaged she kind of sang and muttered to herself and occasionally belched. As we hadn't exchanged any words throughout the whole process, I assumed she spoke no English, but midway through the massage, she paused to ask the inevitable, "You are married?" and then had a good laugh at the fact that I was not. The massage was very...thorough. It felt nice, I suppose, but the amount of anxiety that the situation caused me probably outweighed any healing benefits. I left the massage mildly violated, 500 Rupees poorer, and covered head-to-to in impossible-to-wash-off oil.

Day 4: So Long and Thanks for all the Memories
I was ready to leave Rishikesh. It's a beautiful place and I'll happily go back there some day, but not in the middle of summer, and not on the bus, and not alone, and I'll try not to get food poisoning, and I won't remove my clothes for any strange, burping old women. That much I've learned.

I ate breakfast (finally able to eat food--kind of) surrounded by monkeys at a cafe overlooking the river. Then I packed my bags and headed out.

But if only that were the end.

A long bus journey awaited me yet. There are no direct buses out of Rishikesh, one has to first take a local bus (horrific) to the next big city, Haridwar, an hour away, get anywhere. I made it by bus to Haridwar, though my bus back to Jaipur, of course, was leaving from a location on the other side of town. So by the time my rickshaw driver deposited me at the appropriate place I had already had a long and confusing morning of travel and it was literally, only the beginning.

My bus to Jaipur, it appeared, was leaving from a vacant field outside of Haridwar where a few buses were parked and several men sat around a plastic picnic table yelling at each other. I approached the table with my ticket outstretched before me saying, "Jaipur? Jaipur?" The first man at the table said to me "Your bus is the red bus. It leaves at 5." Then immediately after that, the man next to him said, "Your bus is the white bus. It leaves at 4." As it was now only 3, rather than trying to make sense of these instructions I walked away from the table to sit down.

My patience was wearing very thin. I still felt queasy. There was nowhere to sit. The sun was very hot. I sat down on my backpack in the tiny patch of shade under a pathetic excuse for a "tree" and ants started crawling all over me. I was about to lose it--I was just debating whether it would be more appropriate to laugh or cry. I did neither. Instead, I did the only think I could think of to calm myself down in a situation like this, took out a handi-wipe and washed my hands.

Soon after, an Indian woman appeared from nowhere and in Hindi started asking me questions like, "Why are you alone? Who are you with?" and I didn't understand the rest of what she was saying but, given the trend, it was probably something like, "Why aren't you married at your age?" Then some other bystanders began trying to take my picture.

When it came close to 4 o'clock I approached the table of bus guys again and, in what was probably a very obnoxious tone, started demanding to be put on a bus. Finally, I got on a bus, and finally, it started moving. As we rolled away I saw, out of my window another bus with pink hubcaps. I thought maybe that was a sign that I would be ok.

Or maybe it was just a sign that I was on the wrong bus...

Intermission

I've reached the midway point in my program here in India. It doesn't really feel like I've learned all that much, but I suppose I actually have. It's a slow and mysterious process, language acquisition.

Since they take pity on our poor, language-scrambled brains they give us some time off from classes in the middle of the term. I'm taking advantage of the break with another traveling adventure, so tomorrow I will drop out of contact for a few days. I'm headed to Rishikesh, the "Yoga Capital of the World;" it's the town where The Beatles learned to be spiritual. If I don't happen to give up everything and move into an ashram to meditate for the rest of my life, my plan is to return to Jaipur on Sunday with lots of enlightened wisdom to share.

The day for my (scheduled) return to Jaipur happens to also be the day that my parents will be leaving to come to India(!). I'm so happy that they're making the journey. I wrote them the following letter of tips about India which I am sharing below. It's a lot to read, but it will compensate for me being off-the-radar for five days. Phir milenge, everyone!

*************
Dear Parents,

So you’re finally coming to India. Good. It will be good for you. Now I know you’re both experienced travelers, but there are some things everyone should know before coming to the sub-continent. I don’t want you to look like dumb tourists now, do I? It would be impossible to sum up a culture as diverse and varied as this one in any brief amount of time, but I have compiled for you a very small list of some essential facts.

Before I scare you with the hazards of Indian travel, let me first tell you a few of my very favorite things about this country for you to look forward to:

•There is no better food anywhere in the world than in India…and it’s mango season!
•Hindus consider it very auspicious to decorate, adorn, and embellish. As a result, every temple, every truck, every road-side shrine, every man, woman, and child is adorned in colors, sequins, mirrors, and jewels. Prepare for beautiful sensory overload.
•Music is omnipresent in India.
•The 47 Rupees to 1 Dollar exchange rate is generally very enjoyable.
•Ask and you shall receive. Whatever it is that you want/need/have a curiosity about, just start asking. Someone knows someone who knows someone who has a family member who can cut you a deal by tomorrow afternoon.
•Most Indians I know are friendly, fun-loving, wonderful people who are very happy to host you in their country.


Your survival in India depends on your knowledge of a few key things:

•Don’t Panic. It will all work out. You must let go of your ideas of timeliness and organization.
•Queuing up for things, standing in line and waiting your turn—these are social constructs of the Western world that don’t exist in India. Push your way to the front or you’ll never be served.
•Be patient with electricity—it goes out regularly.
•India is a left-side drive country. This may not seem that important since you won’t be driving, but any time you cross the road you must remember to look to your right or else you’ll get run over by a bus. Also, as India is often crowded, you will often find yourself stepping to the side to get out of the way of passers-by. In this situation your natural, American reaction will be to step to the right, but their natural, Indian reaction will be to step to their left. You’ll be running into people all the time.
•Your left hand is your unclean hand. Don’t exchange money, eat, or touch anyone with your left hand.
•Similarly, the bottoms of your feet/shoes are unclean and it is a major offense to direct your feet/shoes at anyone. You can’t wear shoes into temples or places of worship, but socks are sometimes ok; wearing socks will protect your feet from burning hot marble floors on sunny days.
• Squat toilets: face away from the hole.


Food Survival (for more food tips see my dining guide from last year's blog):

• Most meals will be served with a plate of delicious-looking fresh vegetables…sliced cucumbers, carrots, onions, etc. These uncooked vegetables are the likeliest of any food you will be given to cause upset stomach. They are either unwashed, washed with dirty water, or they’ve been sitting out in the heat for longer than safe. If you want to play it safe, only eat cooked vegetables.
• Meals are typically served with a side of yogurt (dahi). If anything you are eating is too spicy, either take a bite of yogurt, or mix the yogurt into the spicy dish.
• Unless you’re eating in a fancy restaurant your only utensil will be a spoon (chummuch) if you get utensils at all.
• Remember: water comes from bottles; upset stomach comes from the tap. (Don’t worry, bottled water usually only costs Rs. 20 (40 cents))
• Coca-Cola is the fastest-working and most universally available cure for upset stomach, nausea, diarrhea, etc.
• Everything is delicious, so be adventurous in your dining choices.
India is very different from anywhere you’ve ever been. Bear this in mind and try not to be too alarmed by the following:

• Your personal space will feel invaded pretty regularly.
• Not a day will go by in India when you won’t see a man peeing on the side of the road.
• Swastikas are everywhere—readjust your reaction to seeing them. The swastika was a sacred Hindu symbol long before the Nazis stole it.
• It’s going to feel like everyone is staring at you…and they probably are.
• Feral dogs, cows, and monkeys will cross your path on a regular basis.
• The substance of choice among Indian men is a mild stimulant called “betel nut.” It is chewed like chewing tobacco giving the users red teeth and lips. It is the cause behind the red spit-stains spotting every sidewalk in India.
• It’s perfectly okay in Indian culture to talk about money. Indians may want to ask you very specific questions about your exact income, how much you pay for things in America, etc.
• Indians typically don’t understand sarcasm or irony as humor. Careful, Dad.
• Men dress like it’s the 1970’s…mustache required.
• Men hold hands walking around in public. It’s just platonic.
• Traffic laws are regarded as suggestions. Drivers honk at each other as much as possible. It looks like dangerous chaos on the road, but I’ve come to realize that most Indians are expert drivers who can stop on a dime and avoid collisions by a fraction of an inch. Try not to be too afraid; you’re in good hands.


Certain things that are typical to American life are extremely rare to come across in India, a few of these things are:

• Coffee
• Dental Floss
• Deodorant (don't forget to bring yours!)
• Toilet Paper (but the nice hotels you are staying in will have it)
• Certain feminine products
• Unmarried people over the age of 30
• Beef
• Fix-price shopping (Get your haggling skills ready)
• Women wearing shorts or sleeveless shirts


Essential Hindi words to learn:

• Namaste (or sometimes Namaskar) meaning Hello/Goodbye/Blessings
• Theek Hai (pronounced like Teak Hey) meaning Fine/Good/OK typically accompanied by a “head bobble.”
• Accha meaning Good
• Haa (pronounced nasally) meaning Yes
• Nahi (pronounced nasally) meaning No
• Ji a respectful term that you can call someone as a pronoun like “Sir,” or that you can tack onto someone’s name like “Mr.” People will call you Phyllis-Ji and Geoffrey-Ji. Yes sir = Ji Haa.
• Dhanyavad (DAAN-ya-vaad) or Shukriya (shoo-kree-ya) both mean Thank You.
• Pani ki botol (PAA-ni key BO-tol) Bottled Water
• Most importantly: Meri beti, Katie bahut sundar aur medhavi hai. Meaning “My daughter, Katie is very beautiful and intelligent.”

That is a fraction of the things that you need to know. The rest, I’ll let you discover on your own. Bon Voyage! If you have a question or need help getting yourselves out of (or into) an awkward situation my Indian phone number is +91 756 822 1765

Another Dry Lake

There are about 24 people here in Jaipur on the same scholarship that I am on, and we are studying at a language school called AIIS. In addition to us, there are about 25 more students at AIIS independently. Yesterday AIIS loaded all 50ish of us onto two unsightly tour-buses and carried us away on our first overnight field trip. Our destination: Pushkar, a small Rajasthani city known for a Brahma Temple, an annual camel fair, Israeli tourists, and a big beautiful lake. As was the case in Udaipur last weekend, Pushkar's lake is currently dried up, these being the last moments of drought before monsoon season. Another result of the oncoming monsoon is the current unbearable climate in Pushkar which is that step-out-of-the-shower-and-never-dry-off kind of heat and humidity.
The bad thing about traveling in a group of 50 students and several teachers is that it sucks. It's crowded and disorganized and there's no freedom to explore or have fun. The good thing about these kinds of situations is that you get to do and see some things you might not otherwise get to experience. Our first such activity was camel decorating.

My New Favorite Animal
In my mind's eye, a camel is about the size of a horse or a llama, but in actuality they're bigger than your average SUV. This gross underestimation of size leaves me utterly astonished every time I see a camel (which is often, in the state of Rajasthan). They're huge creatures. They also have long eyelashes, floppy lips, knobby knees, a gutteral groan that sounds like gargling, and hilariously nonchalant personalities. To me, they seem like an evolutionary joke. And for that reason I really really like them.

Upon our arrival to our hotel in Pushkar, AIIS organized for a camel named Raja and his turban-wearing care-taker to pay us a visit. We stood in the heat watching as Raja was adorned in every kind of tapestry, sequin, bell, and puff-ball. I was entertained by the spectacle perhaps more than appropriate for someone of my age...my only disappointment was that I didn't get to go for a ride. I did, however, get picture with him (note for this picture: you know it's really humid when even my hair starts getting curly)
Around Town
There's not a lot to see or do in Pushkar. There is a Brahma temple, which is extremely rare--as most Hindu temples are dedicated to either Shiva or Vishnu, but once you've circumambulated, rung the bell, performed the pooja, you're done with the temple and you've got some time to kill. I filled my remaining time with ice cream consumption and wandering.

Kalbelia Dance
Our second "cultural activity" for the evening was a performance of Kalbelia dance, the traditional Rajasthani folk dance. Kalbelia dance involves a lot of spinning, a lot of coy hip-shaking, a lot of impossible hand-gestures and a few very acrobatic moves. I tried to take a VIDEO, which you can watch, but it was a little too dark in there for my camera. (If you turn up the brightness of your screen all the way you may be able to see just a little bit, if nothing else, you can hear the music.) Video problems aside, the performance was lovely. As you may know, I have a particular fondness for folk dance. There was live music, to which several dancers performed solos. This was followed by a fire breather who made everyone nervous defying both common sense and general notions of fire safety. In the end the dancers insisted we join them in a dance on stage, a display which was likely only entertaining for the Indians in the room.

Second Day Disorganization
Today, on the way back to Jaipur we were scheduled for a stop in Ajmer, a historic city known for an especially famous mosque. The informational brochure AIIS gave to us reads, "Ajmer: The Mecca of Islam." I am still trying to figure out who to contact to explain that this is a mildly problematic statement.

Because of some "security threat" alarming enough to make the front page of newspapers, AIIS decided it was best not to take 50 American kids to the Mecca of Islam today--neither the real one nor Ajmer.

Instead, we loaded the bus and visited Tilonia, a school for Rajasthani villagers to learn various arts, trades, skills, and other useful things. There, we got to see another puppet and music demonstration before being left in the handicrafts shop for an annoyingly short amount of time. There were a lot of really beautiful things to see in the craft shop and I really had to restrain myself from purchasing a lifetime supply of handmade quilts (this is not to suggest I walked away empty-handed).

Now we have returned. While I was gone for two days, several crickets came into my room at the Gem to die. And now a pigeon is trying to get into my window.

Cultureclashtastic: The Language Learner

Things that make Hindi a strange and difficult language to learn:

1. The script is different. Devanagari script (देवनागरी) is actually very phonetic and makes a lot more sense than say, English spelling. I am very comfortable with the letters and can write the script out pretty quickly. When it comes to reading however, having not been raised reading the script, my English-speaking brain still has to sound out every word and reading anything (even whatever it is that I've just written) takes an annoyingly long time.
2. Hindi has four different ways of pronouncing the letter that we think of as "T," (त, ट, थ, ठ) none of which are the way we pronounce it. This makes it impossible for us English-speakers to hear the difference between the four sounds or to produce the correct sounds ourselves. All of this also applies to the letter "D."
   
3. All Hindi nouns have genders without any standard gender signifier, thus, one must memorize the gender of every word.
4. When it comes to numbers, in English we have a pretty understandable system of twenty + one = twenty-one or fifty + five = fifty-five. In Hindi there's just a separate word for EVERY NUMBER. For example, the word for nine is nau and the word for twenty is bis but the word for twenty-nine is untis. Why?!
5. If you want to include a preposition in your sentence, you essentially need to change the whole construction of the sentence. I've tried avoiding ever using prepositions and I've found that doesn't work.
6. Perhaps the hardest part of Hindi to grasp is the Yoda-speak sentence order. That is, in English our sentences go Subject-Verb-Object "I read books" and in Hindi it is Subject-Object-Verb "I books read." A sample sentence from my text book is "Every day we meet you in class" which in Hindi is हम रोज़ क्लास में आप से मिलते हैं, which directly translates as "We every day class in you from we meet are." Sentence constructions begin to feel like mathematical equations.
   

Things that make Hindi fun and adorable:

1. Some words must be pronounced more nasally than others. Nasalization can actually change the meaning of a word, so it is important. These nasal sounds combined with the rhythm and intonation necessary for the scrambled-up sentence order makes everyone, in my opinion, sound just a little more like a cartoon character than they do when speaking English.
2. In my grammar class we just learned about a whole category of words and phrases that exists in Hindi where one word is either repeated, or repeated with a meaningless rhyming word. For example, if you want to say "tea or something" you can say "chai-vai," or if something is blue you can say it is "nila" and if it is very blue you can say it is "nila-nila."
3. There is a separate word in Hindi for every member of one's family, so there is not just "uncle" there is father's older brother, mother's younger brother, etc. Many of these kinship terms tend to be cute-sounding doubled-up words like mentioned above. Your father's brother is your "cha-cha," your wife's brother is your "saalaa," your daughter's son is your "naataa," etc.
   
4. The Hindi word for "finger" is "oongli." This is my new favorite thing to say.
   
5. Knowing Devanagari script gives me a wonderful secret code to write in. I can write, for example, "निकोल इस वैरी अनोयिंग एंड सिल्ली" and Nicole won't even be offended.

Udaipur (Mis)adventures

"Udaipur has verily been described as the 'City of Sunrise' and the 'Venice of the East.' Here the visitor will find his dream of India come true, for the city combines real beauty with the picturesque associations of a great and glorious past" The Handbook of India, 1958Upon booking our train tickets to Udaipur, my travel companions, Kristen and Anna-Lisa, neither of whom had traveled in India before, expressed a lot of concern over the way Indian travel works. "We're only on the wait-list for tickets? It's an overnight train? We have to arrive at 3:30 AM? What do you mean by Hijra? We're taking an overnight train and going straight to school on Monday?" And that sort of thing. I assured them that, yes, it all seems very risky, but traveling in India is generally blessed by Karma and magic and that their concerns only marked the coming of a strange and wonderful adventure.

Our train, naturally, was three hours behind scedule arriving to Jaipur on Friday night, but we passed through a time-warp on the way to Udaipur and somehow arrived there only half-an-hour late. Stepping out of the station at 4 AM after a partial-night's sleep on train beds, we found a rickshaw to carry us down winding, unlit, cow-scattered streets to Hotel Udai Niwas. Arriving after-hours to a hotel in India, one finds not a night receptionist, but the entire staff of the hotel sleeping on the lobby floor. We disturbed one such employee to show us to our surprisingly adorable room.

DAY 1
There is really only one thing to do in Udaipur, so as soon as we were fully recovered Saturday morning, we headed straight for the City Palace. There, one finds breathtaking views of the huge lake in the city and the beautiful palace buildings that appear to be floating on the water... That is, one finds these views when there is water in the lake... Right now, just before monsoon season, Rajasthan is at is driest. Pichola lake, as it turns out, is Pichola field around this time of year. We looked out of the ornate palace windows to find not the fairy-tale "Venice of the East," but a green, slimy expanse of landscape spotted with grazing cows. I smirked and commented to my slightly crestfallen friends, "Wow, I bet that's beautiful with water in it!"

Water or not, Udaipur is still a beautiful little city. The palace is room after room of amazing artifacts and architecture. My personal favorite part of the palace was the diorama displaying mannequins of the Maharaja and his favorite horse, or as I dubbed it, his favorite horselephant.



After lunch in a cute rooftop restaurant advertising its "view" of the "lake," we began wandering toward the Bharatiya Lok Kala Museum, a museum of folk arts a little way out of the city. The excursion would have been a leisurely afternoon stroll had I not been assaulted by a holy cow within the first five minute of the walk. It is true what you've heard, cows wander the streets of every city in India just like pigeons or squirrels. Lord Shiva himself was a fan of bovines, so it would be a huge offense in Hinduism to treat a cow with anything less than adoring reverence. I have always known urban holy cows to be sweet, docile creatures, having been raised on food-offerings and blessings. I felt I had no reason for concern then, when one such cow walked past me within a few inches in the narrow street. But I was proven wrong when the creature decided to start rearing its mighty head (horns first) right at me, doing its best to impale me, first in the thigh, and then in the hand as I tried to escape. I am now slightly bruised, but as I understand, very blessed. I'm sure I'll treasure that memory for years to come.

Cow-attack aside, we made it to the museum without any problems. The museum was deserted, painfully hot, and only mildly interesting inside, but we stuck around long enough to catch the daily Rajasthani dance performance and puppet show in the museum's little auditorium. There, we witnessed a Vaudevillian display of traditional dances, a man balancing ten huge pots on his head while walking on glass, and some puppet plays. The power went out in the auditorium for several minutes during one dancer's solo, but it came back on in time for us to see a strange sex-change puppet story. Your typical boy-meets-girl, girl-turns-into-another-boy traditional folk tale. I feel I may have lost a bit of content in that story's translation.

Day 2
Having already done almost everything there was to do in Udaipur, my travel companions and I concluded our second day in the city was best spent shopping. First, in a dingy silver-smith shop we bought earrings and sat sipping chai and sharing stories with Vinod, the shopkeeper. He showed us a solid silver bar, explained his medieval-looking jewelry scales, and told us all about how he inflates prices for certain groups of foreigners. Even with this insider knowledge I couldn't talk him down on the price of the bracelet I wanted.

Several shopkeepers later, we found ourselves sitting for chai once again, this time with Rakesh, a painter with a truly amazing display of ear-hair (see picture). Amused that we could speak a little Hindi, Rakesh was happy to chat with us for a very long time. He put aside our skepticism about the authenticity of his miniature paintings when we asked how he does it. "I'll show you!" he said. He sprang from his seat to a tiny cupboard in the back of the tiny store to pull out a set of tiny paints and tiny paint brushes. He grabbed Anna-Lisa's hand and squinting through his glasses, methodically painted a tiny elephant on her thumb-nail. "The biggest animal on your little finger!"
Monsoon season began as soon as it was time for us to think about heading toward the train station. We took shelter in a small cafe and the skies opened up for flash-flood caliber rainfall. We made our way out of Udaipur through several inches of flowing water on the street and pounding rain soaking us entirely through.
We three, soaking wet, white girls then sat in the train station working on our Hindi homework. This was a novel enough sight to generate a huge audience of amused Indian onlookers, starers, over-the-shoulder-readers, and picture-takers.

We made it onto the train after the typical chaos of maybe/maybe not having seats, fighting with ticket collectors, and finally settling in next to an ancient man with a deadly cough. Needless to say, no one had slept much on the train by the time we rolled into Jaipur at 6AM. Luckily, in one more stroke of Indian travel magic, school was canceled today due to a nation-wide workers strike.

be right back

I'm leaving for another weekend trip tomorrow, this time to Udaipur, "Venice of the East." The Indian railway system being how it is, all I can do is cross my fingers that I will actually make it back in time for class on Monday morning. If I do return, you can be assured I will have many stories and pictures to share.

I also have a big test tomorrow. Perhaps I should be studying right now.