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.

Festivities

"No region in the world is more colourful or picturesque than India. Its ancient monuments and buildings designed by master-craftsmen of bygone days, its customs, festivals, religions, philosophy and art testify to one of the oldest and richest civilizations and are of absorbing interest!" The Handbook of India 1958
Well said, Handbook. There is indeed no shortage of absorbing and picturesque festivals of bygone days to be found in India. In fact, with the dozens of religions and hundreds of deities around, it's sometimes hard to keep track of every big holiday. We've been hearing for weeks now that the event of Teej was approaching, so I tried to seek out some information. Like most things here, at first it was a little difficult to get a straight answer. I asked one of my teachers, "Rakesh Ji, what is Teej?" "It's a festival," he said. "What happens for the festival?" I asked. "Oh...festivities."

I turned, instead, to Wikipedia which told me that Teej has to do with the monsoon and Shiva and Parvati and swings.

On Tuesday a few classmates and I ventured to an arts center here in Jaipur to find the festive festival festivities. What we found was a big open-air fair with lots of vendors selling traditional Rajasthani handicrafts and foods, wandering performers, and lots of lights and music. While snacking on some tasty food we heard, from the other side of the building, some enchanting sitar music. We followed the music to find a huge amphitheater with two handsome young sitar-playing twins and two drummers. Have a look at the video.

I returned to the festival last night for more greasy fried foods and more traditional music. This time no sitar twins, but a whole family band. I apologize, I don't know what the instrument that they were playing is called. The best description I can come up with would be a little drum with a string that makes a sound like a cartoon, but I realize that's probably hard to visualize. Luckily, I have another video.
Tonight is supposed to be the big culmination of the Teej festival festivities with a big parade processing through the city. I intend to go and from what I understand, I'll either have a great time or be trampled by massive crowds. Either way should be interesting.

My First Hindustani Haircut

Once upon a time, I got my hair cut in Thailand. The result was something choppy, unmanageable, and so hideous I could only compare it to a mullet. As a result I've always been a little hesitant to have my thin, tangly, blond hair handled by those trained to deal with thick, luscious, black hair. Indian women definitely have sundar bal (beautiful hair), so I know there are nice hair salons around somewhere, but I just wondered what they would do with me. My hair was beginning to look pretty bad though and I thought it might be financially responsible to get my hair cut here where it would cost the equivalent of $6 instead of waiting to go back to the US and paying $50. So today I took the plunge. What do you think? Success?

The Wet Desert and Other Adventures

Indian travel experiences begin long before you've reached your destination. My quirky weekend trip to Jaisalmer was of course, no exception. To get to Jaisalmer from Jaipur, one's only option is a 12+ hour train ride. My travel companion, Jennie pointed out that we were taking two 12 hour trains to spend 28 hours in the destination, something we both found amusing, but not unusual. Acquiring tickets for our train had gone remarkably smoothly, none of the typical gambling to buy a wait-listed train seat or fighting with a huge family over a place to sleep. Our train arrived to Jaipur exactly one hour late and we boarded around 12:30 AM when most passengers had already gone to sleep. We tried to quietly find our berths and go straight to sleep, but still didn't manage to escape the whispers of a curious near-by passenger: "Namaste, Where are you from? Where are you going? Oh, Jaisalmer--long way. Are you sisters or just friends?"When we arrived in the morning it became obvious that we were had not been the only videshis (foreigners) on the train. Out poured a wave of hippy Western tourists into the sea of hotel hustlers. As Jaisalmer is a relatively touristy place with only one or two trains arriving every day, the hotels send their representatives right to the train station to fight over the under-slept visitors coming in. We arrived to our hotel, The Shahi Palace (we had decided to splurge on one of the nicest hotels I've ever stayed in India--about $40 USD per night) in a jeep filled with train station pick-ups and were herded upstairs to the restaurant like cattle at the hotel-wallah's insistence, "You all take tea here then we check in. Theek hai?"

Tea consumed, the man showed us to our room, a beautiful sandstone-walled, antique-furnitured, air-conditioned haven. "This room is ok?" he asked. The way we signified our agreement gave away who we were. "I think you have been in India a long time. I can tell by your heads. You are students in India?" Again we bobbled our heads side to side, this time with a knowing laugh. When he left the room he mentioned that the sunset camel safari tour began at 4:30 if we were interested. We were.

Jaisalmer looks like no other place I've ever been to in India. It is called the "Golden City" because every building is made from dramatic, yellow sandstone. All the tour-books describe it as a "beautiful mirage rising up from the sandy desert," which is really cheesy...but it's true. Jaisalmer is pretty much the last stop before the huge expanse of desert that separates India from Pakistan. The tiny city surrounds the huge, 12th century sandstone fort. This fort, unlike the hundreds of other forts in India is not in ruins, rather, it is still very active with most of the city's residents living or working within the fort walls. Only part of the fort is really open to visitors since the rest is still residential. This means that walking around and taking in the sights is the main activity for the many tourists to Jaisalmer...that, and going on camel rides.

Jennie and I assumed that we would be going on our camel outing with other guests from the hotel, but arrived to find it would be only us and Anu, our jeep-driver. We loaded into the jeep then sped at 60mph off into the Thar desert. Our first stop was a desert village where we got out of the jeep for just enough time to be bombarded by the local children yelling "Hello!!" Back in the jeep to the sounds of Anu's loud Bollywood music we drove several more kilometers to another small village where a few men and two camels sat waiting. Our driver sat for a cigarette and a long chat with the men there while Jennie and I stood awkwardly awaiting further instruction. Finally, two boys (maybe ages 12 and 17 or so) called us over to the two camels. We awkwardly climbed on then, like a children's pony ride, we sat as the boys pulled the camels along by ropes, slowly walking in front of us toward the suspiciously lush, green desert. "My, what dark clouds those are..." I thought.Not ten minutes atop the camels we began to feel raindrops. And soon raindrops became monsoon rain. And soon Jennie and I requested to end our camel ride (scheduled to be an hour long) early. We dismounted, said goodbye to the camels (mine was named Papaya!) and ran, soaking wet, back to the jeep where Anu had switched the music from Bollywood to torturous 90's pop with the Aqua song, "Barbie Girl" on repeat. A far cry from my imagined camel riding experience music.By the time the rain had slowed down a little we had arrived by jeep (instead of by camel) to the massive desert sand dunes near by. We got out to look for a few minutes, but then Anu nervously requested we go back to the car because "Very much water is coming." Evidently rain water doesn't really absorb into the desert very well so when we looked back to the vehicle, we saw a huge monsoon-made river materialize from nowhere and rush towards it. In some daring driving maneuvers the jeep was reversed without sinking into the now raging current.

Anu was disappointed. Our camel ride was cut short. Our jeep almost drowned in the desert. There was no chance of seeing the desert sunset we had been promised through these thick clouds. "Please, let me take you to my home. Take some tea," he insisted. We arrived at yet another mud house in a remote desert village. Outside, Anu's two precocious children and a stubborn goat. Inside, his smirking wife. We sat down and tea was forced upon us. It was the best chai I have ever tasted.

By the second day the clouds had cleared way for the scorching desert heat that I had been expecting. Jennie and I headed to the fort. In the part of the fort that you can visit there is a typically beautiful display of artifacts, architecture, art, etc., but my favorite part was the tiny bats hanging from the ceiling in some of the darker rooms.

The fort is more than just the palace, it is an entire medieval city perfectly preserved, and still in use within the huge walls. Many little medieval houses have been turned into tourist-friendly businesses, so there were several options for eating within the fort walls when it came time for lunch. We picked a strange-looking little place advertising its own Australianness. Approaching the restaurant a disembodied voice with a thick, Hindi accent yelled to us, "Get inside girls! It's bloody hot out there!" Sitting down inside it became obvious, that it was not an Australian-owned restaurant in India, but an Indian restaurant owned by an Indian man who had spent some time in Australia. He appeared at our table in nothing but revealing white shorts, proudly bearing his enormous beer-belly and carpet of greying chest hair. His time in Australia had done nothing to improve his English, but he had incorporated all of the Aussie slang. "Christ, its bloody hot. The woman will take your order." The woman, it turned out was his wife, the first woman I have ever seen working in a restaurant in India. She appeared at our table, demanded we order the mango juice then stayed at least another 15 or 20 minutes to tell us her entire life story. She was from Mumbai, she had a degree in Economics, she had had an arranged marriage to this man from Jaisalmer with an un-educated family and here she was 20 years later running his restaurant and living among "these un-educated Jaisalmer people." Jennie and I tried to be polite with statements like "Yeah, Mumbai and Jaisalmer are very different, it must be a strange adjustment." "It's shit!" she responded. Her English, slang and everything else, was perfect. The two of them kept coming back and forth to our table referring to both of us as "Miss America" to add little bits of information about their lives and occasionally to serve us. "How's the bloody food, Miss America?"

By mid-afternoon, we needed to return to the train station. Our bickering, surrogate Indian parents from the "Australian" restaurant had insisted on packing us dinner to bring on the long journey back to Jaipur. On the train we were surrounded by a group of Indian men who all sat talking and joking with each other as Jennie and I both read quietly. It wasn't until a few hours into the train ride that they discovered that we both understood Hindi, much to their shock and subsequent embarrassment. Our occasional use of Hindi words and phrases was enough to entertain most of our train-car for the remainder of the 12 hour trip back to Jaipur.

Koi Baat Nahi

Just one week of school and a few days of tests and wrap-up activities left! Can you believe it?! I can't.

Today at school I had two classes back-to-back in which the assignment was to speak for a few minutes about different topics. The fact that I was able to complete these tasks, I realized, was evidence of how much Hindi I've actually learned. The fact that my Hindi is really still "Hinglish" is evidence of how much there still is to learn.

In the classroom Hinglish is generally ok, but in the real world I've found it doesn't work quite as well. I can't, for example, ask the recorded announcements at the train stations to repeat themselves a little slower this time and rickshaw drivers tend not to understand when I say "यहाँ turn right, यह छोटी street, ठीक है?"

इसलिए, This weekend will provide one last chance to test my communication skills in the real world. My classmate Jennie and I are leaving tonight for a brief jaunt to Western Rajasthan to a city called Jaisalmer. Jaisalmer is known for dramatic deserty sand dunes, a big medieval fort, and lots of camels (I've got the Hindi word for camel ready in my mind to pull out at any moment--oont!). Right now, it is a little rainy in all of Rajasthan, so while at the beginning of the summer I was cursed by dry lakes, there is now a high likelihood that I will find myself in a wet desert. I'm preparing to live out all of my Lawrence of Arabia desert fantasies nonetheless. कोई बात नहीं. I'll be back on Sunday with many cultureclashtastic stories to share no doubt.

shameless gluttony

It's no secret that I really love food. And I really really love Indian food. When it occurred to me recently how little time I have left here, I realized I needed to start making better use of my time in accomplishing all of my gastro-goals. So last night I decided no more dilly-dallying, time to get down to business, time to get to a South Indian restaurant.

Jaipur is in North India, Hyderabad is in South India. Having now spent a long time in both places I have been able to weigh one cuisine against the other. I've tried not to be biased here and I've waited a long time to come to my verdict. But I've now officially arrived at the conclusion of which style of food I prefer.

Before I reveal my preference, I should briefly discuss the differences between Southern and Northern food. While many Indian dishes are available anywhere in India, there are certain things that are more common to certain areas and a lot of regional distinctions. In South India food is more often steamed than fried. South India also has a few very unique signature dishes like iddli, tasty little rice dumplings, uttapams, savory vegetable pancakes, and dosas...delicious dosas. In North India the food is a little greasier, a little heavier, and a lot more milk products are used. You'll find more meat dishes, more paneer, yummy Indian cheese cubes, and more naan, oven-baked flat-bread.

North India, you've put up a good fight, but the dosa just beats everything else. South India wins.

A dosa is usually described as an "Indian crepe," but it is much much more than that. When made well, a dosa is somewhat crepe-like, but crispier and more savory. It is made from fermented rice and lentil flour, so it has an unusual sour and salty taste. The dosa itself is typically very large and wrapped in the shape of a burrito. When you tear into your dosa (ravenously and with your hands if you're like me) you will find any variety of fillings, but most typically it is some combination of spicy potatoes, onions and other vegetables inside. Perhaps the most thrilling part of the dosa is the coconut chutney that is usually served alongside it. Typing this description is making me very hungry, so I have to stop now. Here's a picture:I'm glad at least I found one dosa before leaving India, now I'm just calculating how many more I can eat in the next 19 days.