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.

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

written by  Drie on January 30, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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We are now in Bundi! This is a much smaller town (around pop.100,000) several hours south of Jaipur. Getting there was a grand time. We had bought train tickets earlier in the week (rp340) and arrived at the train station in a tiny rickshaw (tiny b/c we took the small guy’s offer of 35 after much barter). This meant 4 of us and weekend bags were crammed into the little vehicle with a tiny muslim man and his dignified white beard. The driver was so excited that his rickshaw was able to pull us all the way to the station he let a whoohoo which we repeated in cacophony.
Getting on the train turned out to be less enjoyable. We knew we were on a sleeper car, a type of car that usually has the names of the passengers posted outside by the door. But our tickets said we were in SE2…well there were many S#’s but no SE’s. It wasn’t S2 so we resorted to walking u and down the platform asking everyone imaginable by pointing at our ticket and looking thoroughly confused (which we were). In response we got about 10 conflicting pointed directions. After walking back and forth several times and dwindling our extra time down 10 minutes before departure, we spotted our names on one of the only cars we had not already checked. Oh well. Off to Kota. The ride took about 5 hours.
We arrived around 9 at night and walked from the station into the street to find a reasonably priced rickshaw (rp. 30) to the bus station. This turned out to be a deserted alley with old buses in it but we were quickly ushered onto the bus Bundi Bundi! A man on the bus befriended us when we got confused about ticket prices (rp. 20) and thought he would be a friend for the rest of the ride. He even got us a reasonably priced rickshaw to our Haveli (old house converted to hotel) and wanted to meet up the next day. Polite no thanks.
The RN Haveli which we had picked out of our guidebook turned out to be a delightful 20 year old home with painted walls and the typical Indian layout of two floors and a central courtyard. The place is lauded (among tourists at least) for being an entirely female run business, notably by ‘Mama’ a proud old fat lady who introduces us to her ‘daughter-in-law’ and son who turn out to be an older British couple staying for a couple days. We sooned joined by some affectionate puppies off the street who play with our backpacks while mama ineffectually attempts to chalo them out.
We have two small doubles. The beds—and rooms—look a bit suspect in cleanliness, the bathroom is a tiny combined western/squaty potty that flushes only intermittently and we can hear the mice squeaking to keep the floor company in the dark. But Mama gives delicious ginger chai and an extra blanket for the cold night the place has character. This for the equivalent of what I would pay for a cup of chai in the US (150 rupees or $3 per night!).

written by  Drie on February 2, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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Back to the grind from another weekend adventure.

Snapshot: Trains are the Ticket
People tell you that if you come to India you have to take the trains. That’s totally true from an interest, economic, and in my case, obsession standpoint. The trains are awesome. I admit to always having enjoyed cross-country travel, though usually in the back seat of a family van. And every train I have taken in this country—I think its five now—has been an enjoyable and generally fascinating experience.
Of course, in telling you I have enjoyed the trains here, I have to specify class, because here there are no less than six distinctions of class and probably many more. There’s first class, second class sleeper A/C, second class sleeper non-A/C, second class, general class reserve, and general class. This runs the gamut of having your own pimped out private compartment to making a rush for your space on the wooden benches. For me, this choice has dwindled to various separations of second class on superfast, express, or non-express trains. Most of my journeys have been on second class non-A/C which essentially mean I ride in a car with about 6-10 compartments of 8 assigned seats.
Six seats are on one side, and 2 on the other. In an ingenious scheme, three people can face each other on each side with a fixed bunk above them, while the back-cushion of the bottom seat flips up so that each of the three people on each side can sleep (on the left) while a similar midsection slides down to make a bottom bunk( on the right). Especially if I’m on the top bunk, I feel like I’m in my own little fort, in the form of those I created in childhood. While the non-A/C class offers no bedding, virtually everything else you could possibly need is to be found on the train including but not all inclusive, fans (that double function for me as shoe-holders), water bottle holders on each level, a set of hooks, a wall-pocket, a mini-table, music in the form the pro-longed whistle of the train and the combined snoring of a multitude of sleeping men. Each car has a Western Style bathroom in addition to the Indian one. The former does not provide toilet but this is probably a good thing as I am relatively sure that what waste is dumped down goes nowhere but onto the tracks.
If the train doesn’t have it, the train station will. There are specially waiting rooms and even a budge-in-line right for women. There is scrumptions fried food offered never above 15 rp not to mention steaming cups of chai for the go and little packets of crackers (or should I say glucose cookies) called Parli-G’s if fat-induced heart problems are not in your future.

I actually had two such spectacular 12 hour overnight train rides this weekend, going to and from Udaipur. The 6 of us took the whole compartment and it was a spectacular time. The rest of the weekend doesn’t get quite as good reviews. Udaipur is nice, if tourist-filled city, with a beautiful lake and fantastic shopping. But while it seems to contain all the bits of ‘classic’ India (a fort, a temple, a city palace, old havelis, etc.) smashed into a small area, none of these sites made it to top of favorites in their category.
My slight displeasure was compounded by spending too much money including a ring and a miniature painting as well as other items which will remain unnamed as they are gifts for some of you fine folks. This as well as the fact that as nearly the whole class came and frictions grew between my ‘core-four’ as well as the rest of the group in the planning and execution of activities. This culminated in our attempt at ‘going out’ at night looking for a bar or club. The place we had in mind turned out to cost in excess of 330 rp a drink. And the men we asked wanted to take us to a disco-club in their car halfway across the city. What did we do? We sat around in the street in the dark discussing and disagreeing and keeping on of our number ( already a little drunk) from getting the car with our new friends… hmmm. Instead my group just went back to the hotel and watched Octopussy on the roof. This most horrible of Bond films was filmed right there in the city and included such sites as we went to see including the city palace on the lake shore, the city palace hotel in the Pichola Lake (and $500 per night), Monsoon fort perched a top a distant hill, and the palace on Jagmandir Island (known for having inspired Shah Jihan’s Taj and sheltering British women and children during the 1857 Sepoy rebellion/1st war of independence).
Also notable from our weekend of excess, we rented bikes for the day and rode out searching for the other 2 lakes of the city but finding only one. Exhaustion came on as people repeatedly gave conflicting advice that sent up dirt hills, down windy roads, and urban development. This particular adventure was a lot of fun.
The weekend can’t have been too much of flop with lots of good restaurant and street food (including chitorri, samosa, and breaded stuffed hot peppers), bikes with gears, and warmer weather.

written by  Drie on February 20, 2008 from Udaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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The following is a copy of a assignment I have submitted for MAXSA class (aka Maximizing Study Abroad), a course in which we reflect and share our interactions with our host culture and which I take very seriously:

Dear Tara,

A triumph in the process of Coping with my host Culture. You see I have for some time felt I like I am not getting enough exercise or able to physically express myself in a comfortable and acceptable manner. In India it is not acceptable for women to wear workout garb common to the US eg shorts and tank top. Additionally, taking a walk is not generally understood and it is highly unusual for a woman to jog. All these taboos have made it extremely difficult for me to integrate my usual physical routines into the cultural context.
Initially I became highly frustrated with Indian culture and values. I said “so sexist, that women can’t even jog!(evaluative inference type)” and “this is why they are all fat isn’t? (interpretive inference type).” But these inferences did nothing for preventing belly fat from encroaching. We used to D-I-E model of inference making to find a productive solution.
I am thrilled to report that my roommate and I, with the help of the model, have come up with an effective coping technique that allows my physical expression and increases my cultural integration. This technique is Dance Workout Bollywood! We get into our ‘inappropriate’ workout outfits in our room. Then we turn on a video of a hopping music number of our favorite new Bollywood film (from rental walla) and do the dance of Sharuk Khan, Aamir Khan and Aishwary Rai. Now we are engaging in daily exercise and engaging in the local cultural expression all at once. The D-I-E model of inference has helped me so much. Thank you MAXSA!

written by  Drie on February 25, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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I went jogging this morning(that means I got up at 7:15!) and of course proceeded to buy a samosa on the way back...but that’s beside the point. Along the way I saw Indian woman jogger for the first time! It was so gratifying; we made eye contact, she smiled and gave a brief thumbs up and though the exchange was less than a second the moment of complete understanding across cultures as two women will remain in my memory for a long time. Its women like this that are going to have the strength to change India.
I know I have been writing less and less and that’s generally because there is less that is interesting to talk about. So much so, and school being as basic and uninspiring as it is, has become a major frustration. Except for hindi where I am making progress though with painful results when attempting to speak, its very difficult to sit through class. But that is all nearly over now. I will be leaving to start my internship in Jodhpur with GRAVIS on Wednesday. This will mean six weeks of a whole new set of experiences! There are four other people from the program working with this NGO though on different projects, so I won’t be alone. i hopefully will be working with their water sustainability practices program out in teh villages. Until then, we are finishing up, writing papers, taking tests, and otherwise wrapping what we haven’t really learned anyway.
I started packing and am all set to go to rural living 101. Unfortunately, I may not have internet access much of the time, so you al you Best Beloved may not get so many blogs from me. I'm sure you will endure tolerably enough.

written by  Drie on February 28, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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