Enough so that ,peaking out the clouds on the edge of grey, was a whiter crest, the tip top of Khangchendzonga--the 4th tallest peak in the world and the highest mountain in India. We decided that a trip to the top of the hill might be worth it even now. So we went, and it clouded over more, but the way back down brought us a thousand prayer flags and two fantastic monastries to view. At one of the latter I was able to spin prayer wheels, fulfilling a long held child's fantasy from my parent's stories of Nepal.

We came back for a breakfast of Nepali bread (a slightly leavened round bread) with jam and honey and some rockin mashed potatoes. That was followed by an afternoon nap.

To top off a day of monastry viewing, Teresa and I walked the town (munching on coal-cooked corn with lemon) until we reached the Bhudia Busty, a gompa perched on the side of a hill facing the hidden crest of Everest.
]]> Fri, 02 May 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=20626 0 27.0333333 88.2666667 The trip back up turned into quite a humorous debacle. Not thinking things through, we had not confirmed that there was a way back OUT of the valley that didn't not involve walking back up the same hill for 10 hours. But after several cars refused to give us a lift and about 20 minutes of uphill battling we were starting to realize the danger of incomplete planning. Luckily (as I was confident of the whole time, though not most of the girls) we were picked up by a taxi for just 20 ruppees a head. phew. A very relieved trip back was followed by some tasty momos and quality cup of Darj tea.]]> Thu, 01 May 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=20624 0 27.0333333 88.2666667 The trip back up turned into quite a humorous debacle. Not thinking things through, we had not confirmed that there was a way back OUT of the valley that didn't not involve walking back up the same hill for 10 hours. But after several cars refused to give us a lift and about 20 minutes of uphill battling we were starting to realize the danger of incomplete planning. Luckily (as I was confident of the whole time, though not most of the girls) we were picked up by a taxi for just 20 ruppees a head. phew. A very relieved trip back was followed by some tasty momos and quality cup of Darj tea.]]> Mon, 05 May 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=20623 0 27.0333333 88.2666667 Then there was 4 oçlock high tea at the Windsor hotel. I spent 7 dollars for a cup of tea and crumpets but I got to a Victorian British woman in an old Victorian tea room right out of Pride and Prejudice so perhaps it was worth it.
Let me re-emphasize that Darjeeling is not part of the India I have come to know. Things here are beautiful, quiet, basically clean, and there are no lewd stares or even much attention from Nepali-speaking locals. There aren't even and any rickshaws--they can't cope with these hills-- so no honking and we walk everywhere...on SIDEWALKS. Wow, if that aint different I don't know what is. I forgot to mention the small bakeries everywhere.
No Everest sightings in the cloudy distance yet, but I'm holding out hope.]]> Tue, 29 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=20506 0 27.0333333 88.2666667 There, I wandered about briefly until I figured out to find a share-jeep that would take me at last into the hills of the Himalayas. I got help again getthing there from a Scotsman who'd spent the last 9 monthes studying in monastries in Nepal.

After a beautiful, winding and cramped jeep ride up the hill for a few hours, I made it to my last major destination: the fine tea capital of the world. I can't gush enough about the quaintness of this old British hill station. This might as well be a different country. The people here look like Chinese in sarees. And indeed, they are mostly Nepali in origin and there's a movement to have their own Nepali speaking state called Ghorkaland. While here, we've seen a number of protest marches to that effect.

Right after arrival, my lone travels came to an end. I walked to a nearby hotel discussed earlier and met up with friends who had just arrived as well, easy as cake. Reunited with Meghan, Colleen, Emily, Erin, and Betsey (who flew in an hour later) we ate some tibetan food--namely momos which are fantastic little dumplings-- and reveled in the sweet cool air and beautiful sights of the green hills.]]> Mon, 28 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=20505 0 27.0333333 88.2666667 Varanasi, I headed out to the nearby other holy city of Sarnath. Sarnath is where the Buddha gave his first speech/sermon/insight (whatever you call it).
As befits all holi...whoops holy... men, that spot in a Deer Park is now commemorated by a stupa: a giant pile of stones shaped into a phalic symbol. Supposedly the inside also contains something of the Buddha within. Maybe its a hair or a tooth, I'm not really clear on that point.
In any case, I'm afraid to say that the Buddhist idea of a holy sight appeals to me more. Here there are giant trees and quiet spaces, compared to the dirt and crowded bathing spots back on the Ganges.
After a walk around the Deer Park I retreated two a restaurant where I bought and downed a 2 liter bottle of water in less than an hour. I guess that's what walking in 105 F does to you.
I rickshawed it back to Varanasi to pick up my baggage stored in the train station there and rickshawed again to ANOTHER train station out of town to my next stop DARJEELING!
]]> Sun, 27 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=20504 0 25.3333333 83 Finally, it came down to me taking off all by lonesome while Betsey stayed back to recover in the comfort of air conditioning and and a few friends still around till the group flight. Vague plans were established to meet up again in Darjeeling in 3 or so days.
So here I am, all by my lonesome. I wanted to know what it was like to travel alone. Here's the lowdown (at least for me). Its not as scary as you might think but its not as exciting either. For me traveling alone tends to involved greater stress and less to laugh about.
The interesting thing about traveling alone is that you are more susceptible to bad behavior and more often the recipient of people's kindness. Crooks and touts target you (which I avoided thanks to my intellegence and logic and...) kindness from other travelers does too.
Well, enough cognition, let me tell you that I made to Delhi safely by wonderfully air conditioned bus and then booked it to my friend/acquintance, Nick's, house where I was leaving my extra bag for the remainder of the journey. Then I as off again to the Delhi train station (the biggest and most hectic I've ever seen). I ate at a little tiny joint with two tables, greasy food and no other white folks (or women). But it was good enough and no one stared.
The train was absolutely pleasant (class 3AC for you those you are curious) and my car had a nice international feel. With me were a yound Indian man, an elderly business man, two Japanese girls, and another American expat who I ultimately learned was named Dana! The train was on record time as well...only half an hour late. ]]> Fri, 25 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=20473 0 25.3333333 83 Time flies in the heat. After a very trying train journey I’m back in Jaipur for my final week of ‘classes.’ Before that, we spent a wondrous three days in our personal retreat of mount Abu. The most fun thing about the place (besides the cooler temperature and mountain beauty) was the fact that it was chalk full of Indians, Indian tourists that is. Mt. Abu is less visited by foreign tourists because of its out of the way location, but functions as a giant resort getaway for Indians. It was highly enjoyable to be just another one of the crowd of tourists, treated differently only when people wanted to take pictures of us with their babies.
We had an incredibly characteristic experience of India when we climbed to Sunset point to, surprise, surprise, see sunset. It wasn’t even a remotely relaxing or romantic experience though, since several hundred other Indian tourists were making the same treck. The whole thing was like a festival, with men selling corn on the cob, blackberry cups, horseback rides and cart rides. (Rickshaws aren’t allowed on the mountain so the absence is filled by horse wallas and wallas with ‘helicopters’--as they told us--which are essentially shopping cards with little wooden seats inside for two people and are then pushed by some poor old guy up the hill.) At the top of the hill, we all bustled to find appropriate seating followed by a very noisy sunset experience and then a mass exodus back down the hill. It’s the Indian way.
By far my most favorite experience of the resort weekend was our half-day trek into the hills. On the way we saw the old dam built by the British and which still supplies the whole town with its water. We were told we would be given a chance to go caving on this venture as well. Caving, it turned out, involved squeezing along on my belly under a boulder for approximately two minutes. Yep, pretty much crawled under a rock. Literally. I guess I should have known it wasn’t the best idea when our guide told us he would meet us on the other side…
We were accompanied on the hike by a young Canadian named Curtis who entertained the way with stories of festivals in the US I’ve never heard of, including the rainbow fest which occurs each year in a changing and unnamed national park (so authorities can’t prepare to stop it from occurring) and apparently involves a very large hand-holding circle in valleys and excessive ooohming.
The last leg of the trek involved a 750-step climb down to see the guy muksh (or cow face) spring fountain and hindu temples. Speaking of leg, it was my legs crying out in pain for the next few days. And to think I used to do 750 steps on the step machine back in Houston without too much problem.
On Thursday, Betsey and I will be off on our final journey. We will take an air-conditioned train (I know, air conditioned, isn’t it exciting, and that’s class 3 AC for those who are interested) to Varanasi for a few days--you know, to the see the dead people. From there it will be on to Darjeeling. I’m torn which is better…loads of good tea or views of the Himalayas. Hmmm. I guess I’ll found out soon enough.
]]> Wed, 23 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=19604 0 24.4833333 72.7833333 Let's begin this way. We discovered we have a basement. That wasn't bad, it was thrilling because its approximately 15 degrees cooler down there at all points in time. So Sarah and I picked up our mattresses and moved 'em down to our swank new accomodations.

The good times however were not to last. I started feeling rather poor that night and by the time I went to sleep I was shivering furiously and felt extremely achey. Sarah assured that it was in fact still above 80 F in the basement so I deduced (sorry, been reading Sherlock Holmes) that I had fever of the highest order. I hoofed it back upstairs and collapsed on the couch for half the night where for once 91 degrees was a blessing. The next morning I almost blacked out from dizziness, lack of breath and pounding in my head, while attempting to climb the stairs again, and decided I had better stay in for the day. I stumbled back downstairs and collapsed on my bed and blacked out. I'm still feeling extremely week 24 hours later. So, you know all the symptoms. Bets on whether its malaria or not? We'll find out in a couple days if the fever returns or not.

Five hours of sleeping later I decided I could handle a quick trip to the train station to reserve tickets for Mt. Abu (a hill station we are very excited to reach). This, however, turned out to be an entirely unpleasant hour and a half lesson on unsuccessful bureaucracies. To begin with, the reservation office was very allusive. After wandering aimlessly and constantly asking direction we walked OUT of the train station and down a narrow road of apparent residential nature, with passing Indians nodding and telling us "sita sita" (meaning go straight, straight) until we finally reached an entirely separate building called the reservation office... and that's when the real frustration began.

We sat in line for at least 45 minutes but with only two costumers ahead of us. At first we thought an old woman in the front was holding up the line. But when our turn finally came it became very clear that it wasn't the 90 year old but the over-paid dick bureaucrat sitting in his air conditioned cubicle making time slow down. The man moved with the jolting speed of sloth, conducted a friend's business while we stood waiting, and when the first train we asked for was full tried to pawn us off to another line until the blessed woman behind us castigated him in Hindi. He then proceeded to not read our form right, have us spell out our names twice (even though it was spelled in clear bold letters on our form). Then he left for a while. When he came back he was carrying another role of ticket paper. He didn't immediatly put it on though, favoring a chat with his friend next door for a minute or two. Finally he digned to pring the ticket. He stared about my 500 ruppee bill for a good 10 seconds longer than necessary to determine its authenticity then signed three times on the ticket in the slowest possible manner. When we finally got the ticket I had sweated about a bucket.

If this wasn't a lesson in what complete job security, over pay, and no evaluation of work quality does to a bureaucracy I don't know what is. I've been repeatedly told that to get a government job here means you are SET. Its virtually impossible to get fired, it pays better than most, and there is good retirement payment. Not to mention that it is generally accepted that most government workers are expected to do virtually nothing. Whooeey. I will never complain about the school registrar again!

Aww well, I guess every day can't be a laze by the pool, but I could really just use a bowl of chicken pho, sushi, and real raised wheat bread to make things better.

Cheers]]> Fri, 11 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=19210 0 21.8833333 70.0333333 Let's begin this way. We discovered we have basement. Yep, that wasn't bad it was thrilling because its approximately 15 degrees cooler down there at all points in time. So Sarah and I picked up our mattresses and moved em down to our swank new accomodations.

our basement abode

the steps to the our guesthouse basement

The good times however were not to last. I started feeling rather poor that night and by the time I went to sleep I was shivering furiously and extremely achey. Sarah assured that me it was in fact still above 80 F in the basement so I deduced (sorry been reading Sherlock Holmes) that I had fever of the highest order. I hoofed it back upstairs and collapsed on the couch for half the night where for once 91 degrees was a blessing.

The next morning I almost blacked out from dizziness, lack of breath and pounding in my head, while attempting to climb the stairs again, and decided I had better stay in for the day. I stumbled back downstairs and blacked out on my bed. I'm still feeling extremely week 24 hours later. So, you know all the symptoms. Bets on whether its malaria or not?

Five hours of sleeping later I decided I could handle a quick trip to the train station to reserve tickets for Mt. Abu (a hill station we are very excited to reach). This, however, turned out to be an entirely unpleasant hour and a half lesson on unsuccessful bureaucracies. To begin with, the reservation office was very allusive. After wandering aimlessly and constantly asking direction we walked out the train station and down a narrow road past residential neighborhoods, with passing Indians nodding and telling us "sita sita" (meaning go straight, straight) we finally reached an entirely separate building... and that's when the real frustration began.

We sat in line for at least 45 minutes but with only two costumers ahead of us. At first we thought an old woman in the front was holding up the line. But when our turn finally came it became very clear that it wasn't the 90 year old but the over-paid dick bureaucrat sitting in his airconditioned cubicle that was the problem. The man moved with the jolting speed of a sloth, conducted a friend's business while we stood waiting, and when the first train we asked for was full tried to pawn us off to another line until the blessed woman behind us castigated him in Hindi. He then proceeded to not read our form right, have us spell out our names twice (even though it was spelled in clear bold letters on our form). Then he left for a while. When he came back he was carrying another role of ticket paper. He didn't immediatly put it on though, favoring a chat with his friend next door for a minute or two. By the time I finally had my ticket in hand I had sweat a bucket.

If this wasn't a lesson in what complete job security, over pay, and no evaluation of work quality does to a bureaucracy I don't know what it. I've been repeatedly told that to get a government job here means you are SET. Its virtually impossible to get fired, it pays better than most, and there is good retirement payment. Not to mention that it is generally accepted that most government workers are expected to do virtually nothing. Whooeey. I will never complain about the school registrar again!

Aww well, I guess every day can't be a laze by the pool, but I could really just use a bowl of chicken pho, sushi, and real raised wheat bread to make things better.

Cheers]]> Sat, 12 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=19209 0 21.8833333 70.0333333 Time races by, and our very pointless but fun (while not in the car) mid-internship return to Jaipur has come and gone. We spent 13 hours in a miserably hot and uncomfortable jeep for 32 hours in Jaipur, but we got to meet up with everyone from the program, catch up, and hear their stories of NGO life.
My impression is that everyone has dealt with issues of the same theme in their internships from complete confusion about expectations and purpose, to down time, to translation issues and project mishaps. However, no one was left in quite so absurd a position as we at Gagari, whether by chance or their NGO’s organizational ability or structure. A few people even had very legitimate projects to work on for most of the time. Shocker I know.
On an interesting side note, the remaining Gagari gang say they are happier, apparently partly because they (like us) have adjusted their expectations but more because the girls have fallen in love with Prem (very fine looking Indian driver with a purple scarf…and two children), Dillan creepily with 16 year old Lela. Strange.
I am ultimately very grateful that at least I was able to see and live the village life (even if I still regret the particular conditions of my time there) because it was a truly learning experience and far more memorable than at the blind school (even if I do love sweet blind children, Vaneja, and serious pool time).
The level of suppression of basic wants here continues to astound me. No one ‘goes out.’ The two times we were out past 11 PM turned out to be right disasters coming home, with a) drunk and angry rickshaw drivers and B) locked gates or packs of roving dogs. Its inappropriate to dance, drink, sing, kiss, date, hold hands, or otherwise let loose in public places and technically not in the homes. I hate to say it, but perhaps men here are so obnoxious—Sarah and I have new ‘friends’ in the boys that sit and call down to us from a school roof on our walk home each day—because there is no outlet whatsoever for them within normal societal bounds. Sigh.
As a last note: got into my first rickshaw accident. It was inevitable. And no worries, it wasn’t serious. Luckily, cars travel much slower here even if much more chaotically.
]]> Wed, 09 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=19064 0 21.8833333 70.0333333 As we waited it out in flickering candle light, continued crashing came from our kitchen and echoed from the houses around us. By the time the dust had diminished it was positively chilly outside and it had begun to rain. And then it poured rain for the first time in three months.
Sadly, I hadn’t seen the giant wall of dust rolling in because we are surrounded by buildings. However, from other people’s accounts that was exactly how it was, pulled directly off the screen of Grapes of Wrath or Hidalgo. They call these sudden evening dust storms andi around here and apparently they are fairly common for the next month. They actually happen less often than in the past because agriculture is greening the desert and changing the ecosystem. Still, every few days the evening clouds roll in and you know to get where you are going pretty quick. It’s especially intimidating because, as we understand it, the city actually turns off the power during these storms so as to prevent fallen wires—having broken loose from their poorly secured binds above--from producing shocking accidents. Walking about India at night is scary enough. Walking about with no power and no visibility and the electric excitement of a storm in the air is positively terrifying.

It has also been a rather educational week regarding middle class Indian life. Vaneja and a few of our other new friends have begun to tell us about the many scandals that are constantly happening around them. Some of these scandals would have been nothing to us: a boy and girl spotted sitting together in a coffee shop. While others would prove equally problematic for us: the married boss having an affair with his much younger associate. In our comparative discussions, I’m often shocked to find that Vaneja, and virtually everyone else, has the impression that in America all these behaviors were quite normal. She understood that perhaps 90% of Americans had divorced and then remarried. When she told us about the scandal involving this married man, she laughed and said she supposed affairs were quite normal in the US. We told her that, really, affairs were still quite frowned upon and scandalous in our country. Boys and girls can hold hands as much as they want, but wedding vows still mean something.
Another annoying mis-impression most Indians seem to have about American culture is that family is of no value. Having heard that extended families rarely live together, they seem to have extended this to understand that we don’t care about family at all. Since my family is perhaps one of the most important things in my life, I often feel compelled object to this misinterpretation. But even after explaining that in fact I very much love, respect, and value my family, most Indians seem entirely unconvinced that my obligation is even remotely close their own.
Its fascinating to realize that certain differences are so great between these cultures that I could never understand the Indian point of view: a particular rajput tradition requires that the bride must always carry her shoes on her head in the presence of her mother-in-law. While other aspects of life are really the same: attempting to maintain professional behavior in the workplace when personal relationships exist.
Miss you all and hope your school year is coming to a satisfying close.
PS. It’s a continuing debate because Indians use the phrase all the time. What is your ‘good name’? Is it your first name, your whole name, or your Christian name?

]]> Fri, 04 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=18859 0 21.8833333 70.0333333 Below I have compiled a very incomplete list of the many auspicions and inauspicions here in the jewel of the crown.

-Coal eyeliner on babies wards off the evil eye and the ill-will of those jealous of their beauty and vitality. Worth the charcoal irritation...not sure?
-The bride's henna that is smeared or faded will lead to a unfullfilling marriage. Yep, its the henna not the fact that they havent met the guy before.
- if money is waved around the bride-groom's head and then thrown onto the ground it will suck up all the ill-will directed against them.
-Eatting only cold food on the Thanda festival will keep Jupiter happy and prevent from getting the measles
-Drinking liquid with your meal will cause indigestion...I think its worth it
-Eating a popsicle will give you a cold...even in 105 degree heat
-A truck that keeps a black fuzzy ball on the back on its bumper will ward off the evil eye on the road. Whether it does equally well for the bus speeding the other way is unclear.
-No fruit at night or your stomach will be upset. 15 gulab jamun? A ok.
-A god idol will get hot and therefore angry, but dousing it in soy oil will keep him cool. I think that would make me hotter...
-Don't cut hair on Tuesdays. This one is definitely observed, I couldnt find a salon open on that day.
-A woman who gives money to the blind will marry a very handsome man
-yoghurt will counteract the ill effects of ghee
-cow dung is a disinfectant
-the color indigo is a natural bug repellent

and my personal favorite
- eating off the lid of pan will prevent you from ever getting married

Cheers!]]> Tue, 01 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=18753 0 21.8833333 70.0333333 Welcome to my weekly schedule highlights:
Monday: First day back at 'work.' Send off a few emails and take a few administrative details into account. Sit in the one air conditioned room in the blind school and discuss dating habits in US and India with our Indian friend. Then its off to the swimming pool.
Tuesdays: After a swim in the pool we buy glasses of sugar cane juice. It is freshly squeezed in front of us by running giant sticks of sugarcane through an arcaic mechanical press, generally aided by a man pushing the cane through on one side and another pulling on the other.
Wednesday: After a relaxing swim we go to the sweets shop and buy a kilo of gulab jamun, rasgula, laddoo, milk and nut based sweets soaked in honey..mmmm. They pack them all up neatly in unique sweets-boxes. Sometimes a bag of mitri too, a tasty cracker like snack. Ask me about it some time and I will take you to town (if you live in Houston that is)
Thursday: First go swimming then knitting/crocheting time. Both yarn and needles are super cheap here. So we create all sorts things that would kill me from heat exhaustion if I attempted to wear them here.
Friday: After an afternoon swim or alternatively a lassi. We sit in plastic chairs and wait as a dozen carrots are run through blender and I am served a macanya lassi...the contents of which are entirely unknown to me. WE then go to dinner with our mates in for the weekend from gagari. If they aren't around we go to a bollywood movie.
Weekend: the world is our stage (after the daily swim of course).
Somewhere in there we also go site-seeing and shopping with our friend Vaneja and shrink away in a puddle of our own sweat.

Did I mention its hot here?]]> Mon, 31 Mar 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=18713 0 21.8833333 70.0333333 Hello all,

I am glad to report that my Indian adventure has turned rather from a sordid affair to summer breeze. I am now established at the blind school: my new NGO internship begins. And while the school itself has no projects planned for us, it does have the resources for us to create our own. So we are. Sarah and I will be working to establish a penpal exchange between blind students in the US and the blind students here at Netraheen Vikas Sansthan school. One teacher there speaks English; a young woman named Vaneja. I declare my first real Indian friend in her, as she chats, and is delighted to go out, and show us the best places to shop, eat and be entertained, often taking us there in her car! Even more spectacular, we are able to discuss with her in great depth regarding life, the universe and everything (sorry, just read so long and thanks for all the fish). I find her life fascinating: she is a middle class Indian that has declared her choice to work and intention not to marry. If only you understood how unusual this is!
Today, Vaneja drove us out to a hearing impaired school run by an NGO. Both these schools are really quite impressive with sound teaching techniques, polite and honest children, and maintained facilities. The hearing impaired school has a sound-proof room and a computer program that uses visual images to help the children know what kind of sound they speaking into the recorder.
Afterward we went over to her friend’s house where we were served our third complimentary meal of the day, second complimentary tea, and shown pictures of the family and learned about the importance of ‘exams,’ which are taking place right now and essentially determine a persons future career. Afterward, Vaneja took us to india’s equivalent of Target. Glorious—food, clothes, toiletries, furniture and appliances all in one place.
Just to add to the irony of my journey from hell’s alley to Jodhpur’s rich neighborhoods on a Indian bus, we decided to get a month long pass to use a fancy hotel’s pool within walking distance of our guest home. So now each afternoon we walk over in our sticky hot state, dive into the pool and work out in the cold water as long we like. We even have another adorable friend in the pool attendant, Surat, who loves us because I swim better than average and we speak tora tora Hindi. Today he told us we are like his little sisters and gave us two goggles to borrow because he noticed our eyes were getting red. After a swim we take real showers in the hotel bathroom. And the final cherry on top is that the pool is always empty but for ourselves and Surat and must be cleaned and freshened at least once a day! If India could deliver me a few cooler nights or an air conditioner my life would be one sweet gulab jamun.
I think perhaps that the plane of existence between a poor rural Indian villager and me is just too great a divide to bridge and I should be satisfied with the more real relationships I can realistically establish with wealthy, modern Indians. Within days I am establish more meaningful relationships than I could ever hope to in a place like Gagari. It’s a very unromantic view of the human condition, but perhaps one I can deal with.
]]> Thu, 27 Mar 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=18569 0 21.8833333 70.0333333 What a holiday! I told you about preparation for the big event in the country. Preparation in the city was a bit more active and a bit less productive. Two days before the big day, the street bizaars were chalk full of stands selling heaps of colored powder in bags, small water-gun shooters (with coca-cola stickers and hot bollywood actors on them), as well as little bundles of ripe wheat (I think it represents fertility of spring). Many people apparently couldn't wait to start using all this stuff and so we began seeing men with bright pink faces, cows with bright pink splashes, and kids with bright pink everything long befiore the official events should begin.
We also got hit with water balloons on the way back from dinner a whole day in advance. Friendly people on the street told us we had best stay inside on the big day or we would "look like monkeys." If by this they meant dangerous, then I agree. It seems that kids and women do most of their playing the day before because on Holi day the men drink home-brewed alcohol, opium lassis, and feel that even their normal restraint towards women (not much to begin with) doesn't apply for the festival.
The night before Holi revealed loud Holi-themed pop songs being blasted from god knows were and constant drumming. The morning was rather less exciting than we thought (judging from our safe haven on the top of our hotel roof). But by miday things were picking up and we decided we could risk 'playing holi' right outside the hotel with hotel staff.
And it actually went better than we thought. WE got completely powdered by the hotel owner's little girl (cute) and politely powdered by the hotel staff (sweet) for a whole minute or so before guys from across street came over and the thing progressed to a grope fest (not so swell). We stepped back inside after that.
I think I looked less like a monkey and more like a rainbow raccoon. When I took down my hair the crusted stuff allowed it to defy gravity and I looked like rainbow cavewoman. Pictures are soon to come.

holi looks

amy holi face

robin holi faced (and eared)

Happy holi to you all and easter too!! (for those whom it applies)
]]> Sat, 22 Mar 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=18390 0 21.8833333 70.0333333 Sanpshot: Holi Smoke!

The Hindu holiday Holi is this weekend. It’s the second biggest (if your interested the first is Dewalli) holiday in India and celebrates the coming of Spring (the mean Spring taken with a grain of salt since it could more accurately mean the coming of blinding-heat season). A encyclopedia will tell that Holi celebrated with the throwing of powdered colors in the street. But I can tell you now that, in addition this one day celebration, Holi shares with Christmas a season. Everyone takes off work for several days and goes home to their family and friends. The week before is an upbeat with preparation for big day.
At Gagari there is one peculiar custom we learned about. Before Holi the people here collect panfulls of cow dung, mix it with sand, and redo their floors made of the stuff. Today, having already collected the shit, we will be able to witness the smearing of the stuff onto the hardened shit below.

sita smears cow poo on her patio

While I copiously avoided dancing too much, the whole night was definitely improved by the presence of Prem, another blessing of Holi- his mom Shanti lives here. I had also got the pleasure of hitting balls cricket style, bowled by him. When one hit threw it over the fence, he simply leaped over it to fetch, grinning that darling grin. On that score Rao also astonished with his acrobatics by climbing a wall using a tiny water pipe to fetch the ball that went onto the roof.
]]> Thu, 20 Mar 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=18333 0 21.8833333 70.0333333
Snapshot: Can you take the heat?
I think we are finally coming to understand what is Indian heat. The last couple days each prove hotter than the last. Mornings remain cool, a tribute of the desert that when the sun disappears the sand releases the heat with only a quick farewell. But once the sun returns at 7:30 AM the temperature jumps and the earth begins to gather heat again. By the time late afternoon slides by the temperature outside has been reaching 104° F (about 33° C) in the shade. While our carefully sun-deprived and thick-walled rooms slowly climb into the 90’s° F.
It has become our habit to be active from 6:30 AM until an 1 or 2 PM after which we retreat into our darkened rooms, turn on the fan (if the electricity is blessing us) and lay about, slow movements taking precedence. In this kind of heat sluggish motion becomes necessary, and everything obeys this edict except the flies who take advantage of their prey’s lethargy it make their own living. I do this until I can stand it no longer and take a bucket shower with the blessedly cool ground water. Sweat-free skin and wet hair lower my temperature for at least an hour. If you can make it until six the worst is over as the sun begins to sink over the dunes and the wind sweeps in. By ten in the evening the temperature is pleasant and the rooms have given up most of the horrible stored up energy stuff as well. You can move about at normal speed once more. Until the sun rises the again… I’m beginning to the merits of nocturnal living.

On the GRAVIS front there is little to report. We called Rima yesterday to come to right understanding about the situation but she refused to remove us until GRAVIS stated outright that they had no projects for us. This is unlikely to happen, and meanwhile the main office has obviously been pressured enough to instruct the field staff here to take us on field visits as much as possible. This means we have taken two field tours in two days. Today we even had forewarning and a bit of an explanation before leaving: Giriji explained GRAVIS’ self-help groups and how they operate! Although this is an appreciated improvement I think the overall situation is taking a large toll on the other girls, especially as the language gap between Dillan (usually our only interpreter) and the rest of us grows. I find Dillan and I have come to an understanding and my own hindi is improving enough that I don’t have to ask interpretation of every sentence. Unfortunately, if two of my companions go mad, it won’t be long before I follow suite.
Having lost much of my blinding anger with the coming the intense heat, I’m still stuck with horribly confounding decision of what to do. Should we throw a fit and insisting on leaving (despite having done that a little bit already)? Should we wait it out and go on a weeklong vacation without other alterations? Could we survive the latter choice? Should I merely take off and travel with my dad? Shall I view this as a learning experience or a horrible waste of my precious time abroad?
]]> Wed, 19 Mar 2008 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=1839 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=18332 0 21.8833333 70.0333333