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Drie

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Adventures in Hindustan

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To Gandhiji

Jaipur, India

To Gandhiji.
It’s the anniversary of Gandhi’s death, and the event is observed by 2 minutes of silence at 11. AM. It’s a nice gesture but as we stood in silence I heard the honks and street noises and thus was not under the illusion that the whole country stops in place to observe the moment.
I am in fact sick. Its ironic really, not a single stomach problem since I’ve been here, but 2 colds under my belt already. Cross you fingers that it doesn’t get worse.
Today was a bit warmer, so we are holding out that the weather is at last thawing and will remain a pleasant temperature for some time. We had our second development class, and we have started to go over the history and theories of international development. An interesting subject taught by an elderly lady professor who manages to be both adorable and stately at the same time.
Emma and I had our own way of celebrating the non-violence Guru: preparing a non-indian meal. We decided to cook spaghetti (we’re both Itallian) for Sunita-ji to show what the West has to offer. Pasta or noodles of any sort is invariably served with a dollup of ketchup in this country-a horrible adaption of the marinera sauce (though, I think Sunita is quite familiar with spaghetti already, having visiting the US and Australia on numerous occasions). We were successful able to buy all the necessary ingredients except for basil and Oregano. Basil we were able to luckily substitute a but the oregano was nowhere to be found. For all its spices, Indian is completely missing out on one of my top five. Hopefully, the sauce will service anyway. Should we make garlic butter roti as well?

1/31/08

Today was relatively unique. First of all because my cold has reached the disgusting I-have-phlem-up-the-gazoo stage. Second, because I had American pasta, American coffee, and sat in a starbucks like coffeeshop. Third, because we went to Renuji’s (Sunita’s niece-in-law) English class.
Renuji, who we have met several times when she comes to visit Auntiji, speaks the proper lyrical English of the highly educated Indian and is an absolute sweetheart. She had previously invited us to come to one of her classes and speak to the students in English, and today we went. The whole experience was overwhelming. Emma was placed in one room and I another, each filled with maybe 20 university and graduate students. Some spoke fluently, others very hesitantly, and all of them were staring at me and asking questions from all quarters. Simple questions like “do you like Titanic?” and impossible ones like “what are the differences between India and the US.”
One elder lady student even invited us to her house afterwards. The wife of a Jaipur minister, their home was right across from the grand ministerial building. We drank tea and ate sweets and laughed through halting conversation as the three grandchildren alternately stared and laughed at us on the other side of the room. It was nice to see two more Indian homes, one moderate, and Renuji’s absolutely grand.
After a quick dinner of pasta with Sunita (which I think at least amused if not impressed her) we went out to a totally Americanized coffeeshop with Auntiji, Renuji and her husband. For all the chai I am having these days, having my classic earl grey, black, was such a treat I couldn’t stop smiling.
Tomorrow we prepare for our first weekend excursion: Bundi, a much smaller town off the tourist-beaten track about 5 hours away by train. Lets hope for the best on the journey and for the love of peat hope my cold is better.


permalink written by  Drie on January 30, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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Sidewalks arent for walking

Jaipur, India

The most homesick I’ve been I think. Its hard to say why really. A tiring day, maybe, or my headache, dealing with a few of the more annoying of my groupmates, or perhaps its just about that time. I feel a bit disillusioned somehow. In some sense it’s the feeling that I’m not ‘seeing the real India’ but talking to my group and walking from one tourist site to another. But its not just that. I mean, I am living with a ‘real’ Indian lady, walking the same bazaars Indians shop at, and dealing with the same poverty.
But in coming here for such an extended period of time, I somehow felt I could fit-in more. I’m not exactly what I was looking for—maybe a sense of true understanding of what its like to live here or be Indian or simply walk down the street and understand and be at ease with all that’s going on. But the longer I stay, I instead feel more and more my connection to my own home. When you first travel, you tend to miss the creature comforts and the straight familiarity and ease of home. The hot showers, your own bed, your own car, your own streets. And I do miss those, believe me (esp. when I step out of my bucket shower into the 50 degree room without heating!)
But what has depressed me is the realization that I’m dealing fine with the lack of creature comforts. It’s the growing certainty that perhaps I can never care about this place or these people as much those of the Western land, even if I were to stay here for years. Its too foreign. Maybe this is just the language barrier speaking. If I really believed I could somehow accomplish conversational Hindi I might feel more at home.

On to more exciting things. Today we again went up to the Amber Fort. My 3rd time up which I justified by the elephant ride, but by the time we got up and got the cars and saw the elephants loading up, I decided to cut my losses and spend as little money as possible. Some of us just walked alongside the giant painted beasts rather than ride them. I pet one’s nose as well. Otherwise, little was new aside from wandering a bit more extensively around Jaguar Fort and marveling at its view.
After we returned, I picked my salwar from the sikh shop. Unfortunately while the design is just as I wanted, I think the tailored waist is a little off and lays funny. Which I will have to through the painful process of going back to him and asking him to fix it. Sigh. I also had the most embarrassing experience. When I went to try it on in the shop on top of my shirt it was rather snug (naturally, its tailored to fit not over another shirt). But as I went to pull it off, both shirts came up past my bra! Oh dear. The man was gentlemanly as simply assisted me in helping to take it off, but the embarrassment pains.
We are actually invited officially to a wedding of one of the other girl’s families. Apparently it’s a love match between two castes—highly scandalous—so less people are coming than standard and we are all invited. We get to eat at everything. The ceremony is to take place at 7:00. Naturally, we are advised not to arrive at 8:30 if we want to be sure not miss anything.

Snapshot: Sidewalks aren’t for Walking
They are for many things, certainly. They are put to full use for the efficient placement of fruit stands, for trash dumpsters, for small temples, for dog-naps, for urinating, for sweeping off, or for general loitering. What they are not for is the pathway of the pedestrian. In a country where there are far less vehicles to a person as in the US, sidewalks simply aren’t designed for walking. Instead, the walkers of world make their way on the edge of the street, a designated lane of traffic as much as the rest.
I’ve been told that in wealthy Indian society, walking is simply not done. Those who can afford it will never choose to walk if they can get a ride in some fashion. In fact, choosing to ‘go for a walk’ is likely to cause confusion from your acquaintances and multiple rickshawvalas who are entirely unconvinced that you, as a rich angrezi, should prefer to walk if an amicable price can offered. This is likely the explanation for this bizarre design habit. As with most public amenities (all things, who are we kidding) if its isn’t a priority for the wealthy it probably isn’t gonna happen, even if many millions of Indians must walk the dangerous streets every day to get where they need to go. As a side note, it’s a good thing that there’s cricket, futbol, classical dance, and yoga because no one (middle class) takes their 14,000 steps a day around here for exercise.


permalink written by  Drie on January 27, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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republic day

Jaipur, India

Our first weekend on the program and also Republic Day. Cheers to a Democratic India! Well, yesterday began alright, it was our first ‘class excursion’ meaning we took a truck around Jaipur to see city palace and went up for a short period to Amber Fort (the old fortified city in the hills just outside Jaipur). I bought batteries for my camera and like a nervous fool agreed to Rp. 150 (to my credit down from 300 and less than another kid, Zander, who paid 200) even though I KNEW 6 batteries were worth only 120. Grr. I need to work on having the nerve to bargain fully. I got left behind by the group buying the batteries (they went on from the sun dial area to the palace) and nearly gave Mitji (one of our directors) a heart attack in the process. I also almost got fined Rp. 500 for stupidly taking a picture in the city palace armory. Fortunately, they let me just delete the picture and wallow in disgust at stupid rules.
Well, Amber palace was fun if only because Aarthi, Meghan, and I ‘got lost’ through the upper and maze-like back stories of the palace. The view of the hills was just spectacular. We decided we definitely have to play sardines or capture the flag when we come back again on Sunday.
Unfortunately, the day went downhill from there. I got extremely frustrated with Sunita by the end of it (tho hopefully this didn’t show) starting with her telling me I can’t work at the computer desk and ending with us leaving an interesting –but unintelligible—theater performance about the unifranchised people of India at the JKK (a sort of performing and studio art center)
The frustration began with our decision to stop at the two internet cafes on the way home. Both were absolutely horrible. I spent 10 minutes waiting for the thing to try and attach a word document…and waited..and waited. It never worked and put my frustration level through the roof. Fortunately, that story has a happy ending because today we went toward raja park and found another place quite close to the school with a fast connection, clean computers, skype connection, and a guy who could make change! Its gonna be our internet place from now on.
We went om 2 more productive errands: picked up snack food to horde from Reliance Fresh and bought for myself a complete salwar camise for 540 (for those of you who don’t know, this is a traditional women’s daily wear—its like loose pants and a top that looks like a knee length dress with side slits-- mine is blue with glass bits and a gold leaf design and edging), specified tailoring and all. It was a no-bargain store, but the owner was a sikh and I think the stuff is high quality, so I’m hoping I wasn’t ripped off in that whole affair. Now we are simply waiting and pining (or maybe that’s just me) for seeing Aamir Khan.



permalink written by  Drie on January 26, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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ah the famous people

Jaipur, India

Today was a rather surreal and incredible day. I feel guilty because it was all very upper class and westernized but I suppose that one cannot say it is not the real India, but just one India –on very fascinating India—as Rima said.
We had hindi in the morning as usual. We began to cover tenses and thus, for me, it was a rather dreadful time. And it also began that horrible habit of people starting talk to me in phrases of hindi. I don’t know if I simply freak out or don’t have knowledge capacity, but I generally stare numbly back at them and make an all around ass of myself.
But for the rest of day we went back to the literature fair and had a marvelous time. First we saw Fatima Bhutto speaking with Dalrymple. Basically she told the story of her life, and what a interesting and tragic life it is—not to mention historically informing. She must have seen every disaster personal and world-notable (from the death of Benizar to 9/11) possible. Very well spoken but I didn’t find her brilliant.
Afterwards, Emma, Emily, Teresa and I hung out for a while around the place and then walked to the old city. Here was wandered through crowded sales street after sales street taking it in. Ultimately, we homed in on a store that had the cotton pashmina-like shawls. Emma and I after a bit of haggling which I thought was going well but made 2 errors, 1) didn’t stick to my price that I had set to pay rp. 200 and 2) didn’t walk out of the store to get to that price. We ended up paying 230 each. Whatever. I very much like my new shawl though I fear to wear it because I have already managed one pull in the fabric.
When we came back we got lots of free food and lots of their amazing spiced tea. The whole thing reminded me strongly of events in DC with important people and free food in gorgeous places, feeling out of place but caring the ‘student card’ as I now like to think of it.
We then took big tourist buses to a mall theater where we saw Atonement—a uniquely filmed, wonderfully sound-orchestrated, and tragic movie. Then we got to hear from the author of the book Ian McEwen and the screenwriter of the movie! Nothing too fascinating was said, but it was amazing all the same.
To top it all off, it was warm today!

permalink written by  Drie on January 24, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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what its like

Jaipur, India

1/23/08
I’ll try to give you a good idea of experiencing life in India (or one sub-culture, of one section of India). The first thing you have to understand is the noise. In every way this is a loud country. The roads are constantly filled with motorcycles, humming rickshaws (without mufflers), hawkers shouting their wares, and above all honking. Honking means a large number of things in this country. The roads are governed by a strict set of rules: who is bigger and who is chicken. The big buses and trucks obviously get right of way, and they honk to remind people of this fact. But the tiny rickshaws generally have drivers with nerves of steel. Their little constantly horns can be a friendly I’m coming up behind you, a do-you-want to ride call, or a I’m-not-gonna-break-so-you-better. Camels and donkeys are as unconcerned with traffik or honking as they would be of a passing fly. Last in the pecking order pedestrians and bikes. We dodge our way lane-to-lane through traffic with angry honks raining in from all sides. The cow is the top of the pecking order, but even these sacred animals get a few beeps of frustration as they ramble into the road.
The second thing is understand is the smells. The streets of Jaipur are a constant nose fest. From step to step smells change from the stink of public urination (a very common occurrence here) to the spicy aroma of somosas and other delicious fry food. The smell of smoke and pollution are never far away. There is the occasional whiff of marijuana.
The third thing to understand is the temperature. You think of India as hot, and we’re told that in 2 months it will in fact be unbearably so. But this is the winter season in Rajastan and that means its cold. Now for Coloradons the actual temperature wouldn’t seem that bad. The temperature ranges from mid-60’s in the sun to low 40’s at night. But the cold is a different experience here. The fact is that nowhere is warm. When you walk out of the weather inside in the US undoubtedly you have the relief of heaters or at least a fire. The buildings are invariably unheated here, and generally built to keep out heat as much as possible. Further, as the temperature dips at night you are faced with a bucket shower (which means frequent bouts when you are wet but not under the fall of water) and iffy electric water heaters. Don’t even think that sink taps have a hot knob. All of this adds up to make you almost constantly chilly.

(if you want the nitty gritty details….)
Life has begun to take on a semblance of a pattern. We get up around 8:10. Emma and I share a single large bed with a massive amount of blankets. We skip out of bed into the cold air to get dressed and wash with cold water. The maid walks in around 8:30 to sweep and is determinedly non-respondent to our greetings. Breakfast with Sunita-ji at 9:00. This generally involves white bread toasted with mango jam or leftover roti (bread) or porridge from the previous night. And also the obligatory chai and Sunita calling from the kitchen that I should pour her some too, but remember, no sugar.
Then we meet our two friends from the other Bapna house and walk the harrowing road to school. A short walk, but a noisy and generally perilous one. We chat with everybody on the school terrace then head for Hindi class at 10: the only rigorous class we are bound to have for the day. This is followed by lunch, various tea breaks served by Rugoo-ji and other classes taught by various people with somewhat flippant self-reflecting content on the ill-effects of globalization or the duty or negatives of, Indian culture.
Class ends about four at which point various people rush to the computers and we eventually coalesce to ‘hunt in packs’ on various errands to Reliance Fresh (supermarket), the post office, or, thus far, cell phone stores or ATMS. I’m sure we will venture to more exciting places as time goes on. Its best to be home before it gets dark. Sunita is likely crabbily complaining about the cold while sitting in bed watching bollywood soaps or about to go out and socialize. She’ll be back for dinner, which is likely to have the most scrumptious food and the obligatory tea.
At night Emma and I take our harrowing bucket showers and settle down to write in journals or study hindi. Just before bed, we watch an episode of Heroes on my computer cringe under our many covers (and my sleeping bag) until the day begins anew.

Today was especially exciting. We spent the morning at the International Book Festival which turned out to be marvelous. There are many renowned speakers from the Rudolphs (who happen to be professors of my parents at U Chicago back in the day), to our very own Rima Hooja (our program director and author of a giant tome on Rajastan) Willian Dalrymple (the author of City of Djinns, a spectacularly written book I’d recommend for anyone remotely interested in India), to Gore Vidal (famous author), to my beloved Aamir Khan who I am thrilled to be seeing speak on Saturday! Who would have thought that particular dream would come true? Will I possibly get his autograph?? PS. Got my cell phone today! 011 91 9784584659 if anyone wants to skype-to-cell me (cheap that way) I would be delighted!


permalink written by  Drie on January 23, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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Snapshot: Cows on the Crosswalk

Jaipur, India



I know I will miss it when I leave and I don’t even like them. But wherever you go in India from the smallest villages to the heart of New Delhi, you will see them eating trash, lazing unconcerned down the road, or chewing their cud blocking the whole sidewalks.
Everyone who has told you that cows are sacred in this country was mistaken, they are the only form of traffic control. And they will form an indelible part of my memory of this country.
Some of them are the classic spotted Midwestern milk cow, with tiny straight horns. Others are the classic shiva bulls with humps that could hold their own against the best of camels, white hide, and majestic, often painted, horns clashing with hay-loaded carts they pull. Still others are nearly black, hairless, and have horns so curved they often frame the eyes. These are the water Buffalo. All the cows have one thing in common: their fat and they know they have the luxury of not being eaten. Instead they will live out their lives eating empty banana leaves and blissfully sauntering in front of honking traffic.

permalink written by  Drie on January 22, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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school and weddings

Jaipur, India

1/22/08
Orientation is pretty basic. We have homestay advice, hindi classes (fast but good so far), intl deveoplent (basically just our personal observations and discussion so far) and we will soon visit with the healthcare lady. The longer we are here, the more I realize I only really have two real classes (I know this isn't what my parents want to hear). But I'm learning so much from the experience.
We went to that wedding yesterday (the bride and groom are distant relatives of Dr. Bapna). We just saw the procession and very initial Garland ceremony. But this was very cool. It was like a parade with men carying electric candleabras, a marching band, and the groom decked out on a highly decorated white horse.
He received puja at the door and touched his Golden sword to the entrance seal. than him and the bride got up on this little stage with benches and stood around forever will pictures were taken with the Garlands. We didn't actually go to the ceremony because it was at 11:30 and we felt unsafe walking back home then.
You'll be happy to know I avoided a pickpocket attempt on the way out fo the hotel. Two children swooped down on me at teh door and sort of blocked my way. One girl made to shake my hand while in the corner of my eye I saw the boy trying to unzip my purse. I grabbed his hand away and just walked away. I'm half proud of myself and half disgusted.

permalink written by  Drie on January 22, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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home sweet home

Jaipur, India


So we have finally moved in with Sunita-Ji and settled in a bit. I am a bit apprehensive about never leaving anything in plain site (ie not in a drawer or something) and might ignore it a little in the little corner by my bed. I cannot tell if our host mom is reserved or a little aloof or just doesn’t deal in English very confidently or doesn’t like me but her demeanor puts me a tad bit on edge.
However, Emma hasn’t even commented on sharing a bed, which is relieving since if she doesn’t mind, I don’t. I hope she isn’t a light sleeper! The room is nice, though, and the bathroom I still think is for our exclusive use. The window is large and we could sit on the ledge, though it makes it a bit chilly when open.
There is also a very weak open wireless connection, which my computer finds but isn’t able to get to any website—just enough to tease. I really hope that we are able to find a wireless café somewhere. It would make things much easier I feel. There also appears to be a functioning computer sitting in our room but am currently afraid to even ask about its use.
The morning was spent at the hotel with a short, somewhat informative, session with Rekaji, our homestay coordinator. Emma asked about possibly taking art lessons or something of the sort, and she said it might be possible once we know our time schedule. Spent a bit more time chatting with Aarthi and Meghan and also talked briefly to Sarah and Betsy who are our complex-mates living with the Mr. Bapna.
The park is even more of a blessing than I had first imagined. We all took a walk there and looks as if many events take place within. There was a rose show when we went over and Rima told us that free concerts with famous artists are held on the 2nd Saturday of every month!
Dr. Bapna rather abruptly asked if we wanted to go to a wedding that we aren’t really invited to, which Sunita seemed to object to. We aren’t quite sure what to make of it but obviously didn’t want to refuse the opportunity to go. We shall see.


permalink written by  Drie on January 20, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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b/c I need a title

Chennai, India

Two days ago we traveled. All day, all night—and it was surprisingly enjoyable. We took an incredible journey down through the mountains surrounded by tropical forest just as you would imagine is the home of the Bengal tiger and tapir. Then we got on the overnight sleeper train. The back of the seat folds down such that eight people may sleep in a single compartment. We shared the compartment with a young, obviously middle class, Indian couple and I found myself surreptitiously and wondering if they had an arranged marriage (most still are here) and what htat must be like.
It was a fascinating to ride the train, famous ‘infastructure’ created by the British. These particular lines were built for the transport of tea grown in the mountains, as a museum and factory of tea informed us. We arrived in Chennai and immediately left the big ugly city for the small tourist town of Mamallapuram.
This is hour second night in the town and we have spent our time enjoying the beach off the Bengal, visiting the temples here and shopping for the exquisite carved granite sculptures that the town is known for. My dad bought two incredible worked stone elephants that are hollow with another elephant inside. I can’t possibly carry such a heavy thing with me the whole semester but I bought a beautiful lamp cover for rp 70 or about $1.50.
I can’t decide if I enjoy more the small hippy town with every other person a westerner (a hippie one) and thus the subject of all Indian sales attention or not.

permalink written by  Drie on January 7, 2008 from Chennai, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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easy day

Udi, India

We took the morning easy, enjoying the warm sun on our patio-with-a-view after a quite painfully cold night. I think our little cute bungalow was built for the British in the height of hot season not for people to stay in the middle of winter. The ceilings are tall and thin metal and a few high windows are inoperably cracked open. We bundled up into our little beds with five blankets.
After bathing in the sun for several hours we headed out to Ooti’s renowned botanical gardens, which cost 10 ruppees each. We were amidst another monetary interaction in which the Indian salesman assured us they had no change when another white couple walked up on the other side of the bars and began a second interaction the sales person. My Mom flustered, tried to get our Rp 100 back and snapped at the guy when he told us to wait. As we completed the interaction and walked into the gardens, the woman laughed and told us she had felt the same way many a time. Turns out they were from the US. Where in the US? Denver, CO! Where in Denver, Whittier, our very own old neighborhood!
Well, we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening hanging out with Brett and Cheryl, our fellow Denverites. She had got a Rotary international scholarship to study urban planning for a year and told us of the many plights of going to school in this country. In sum, its not very impressive learning and tends to be frustrating or a waste of time, not to mention that flighty classmates are hard to work with because they are always “paining.” She had some fun and also sobering advice about traveling in India as a lone woman. The gardens were nice too.
Two things about Indians: they are incredibly social people and thus have the odd habit of always coming up to us asking to shake our hand and talk to us or want to take a picture with us. If you oblige, it is a likely that a whole crowd will gather round as if you were giving out a prize or something. Second, if you haven’t seen the head bob from Bollywood movies you will see it here, they use this gesture for everything from assent to apology.



permalink written by  Drie on January 3, 2008 from Udi, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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