July 2005 Archives

I didn't actually expect that anyone would guess (it doesn't take much to figure out what is going on). But, thanks for doing it. I was just in an wi-fi cafe and didn't want to write there. It wasn't so much the cafe as it was the convention that had gathered of middle-school bus drivers. "those kids!..." was not approrpriate background for ANY thought. Let alone coherent sentences. But, I was in a wi-fi cafe and that where I had to upload the pic because I was being lazy. That's also why I went ahead and published it before I bothered to write on it. Lazy.

So, the picture. I'm definitely watching a movie. That's what you see. We all pick a side and the man starts to turn a crank on top. The stand starts to wobble and swing here and there, which is why I'm holding the viewer. We get through the black and white count down (the numbers with the circles and shapes around them) and in addition to turning the wheel, this man is now singing, too. Traditional raag improvisation, Carnatic music. It was lovely. And then, the movie comes on. And it's a traditional Western movie. WIth cowboys. : ) It was great. It lasted maybe 90 seconds, but just enough to really enjoy the entire experience. It was one of my favorites in India and one of the first. When I saw the picture (it isn't mine. Srini took it on Kevin's camera? Gina's?) I had almost forgotten about it. So, I got excited and decided that I ought to share it with you, even though you can't see the wobbly stand or hear the gritty voice of our artisan.

Yesterday, I spent the day playing with iMovie and iDVD. Specifically, I was working on my motorcycle ride clip. Editing, adding music, balancing, looping, cutting, etc, etc, it was such a wonderful learning experience. I took my hour ride down to 15 mins. And I'm really proud of it. It's nothing amazing, let me tell you, but I really, really enjoyed thinking about the music and learning how to use the software.

I made it back. So did my luggage. Only one bag was delayed one day. That, in comparison to what I dealt with when arriving in India, is amazing. : ) I have completely taken over the Dornbrook's attic. I have stuff everywhere and there is no place to put it! That is the task for today and tomorrow. It will take two days. But, back to flying. To begin with, I pulled a 24 hour day in India. I had a 3 am flight to Bombay and then a 7 am to Frankfurt. I stayed up until I was on my Frankfurt flight and that was painful, to say the least. Once I was in my seat, I put in my earplugs, slipped on my sleep mask (I bought it specifically for this reason) and went to bed as the Indian sun was rising. I woke up here and there, but managed to keep sleeping right until we landed in Frankfurt. Thankfully, I was able to get off of the plane there and walk around/go to the bathroom/wash my face and brush my teeth. While in the airport, I was confronted with an enormous stand of good chocolate from all over Europe. Of course, I bought a few things there (thank goodness for credit cards), one of which was a small container of HagenDaas ice cream. Strawberries and Cream. It was amazing, and that's what I had for breakfast. As I was enjoying it, waiting in line to check in with our gate, I thought: now this is the way to travel. So, I forced myself awake through the Frankfurt to Chicago run. While in Chicago, I was confronted with people, in public (!), who were wearing shorts and tight pants and tank tops. The indecency of it all. I saw so much flesh and curves and bodies. It took some time for me to remind myself that this is OK and normal and part of the culture that I've been in my whole life. I'm still not used to seeing shorts in public, but I'd imagine that I'll get there eventually. Back to Chicago. Oh, and a bottle of water cost $2.66. This is not a large bottle, either. I've been buying entire litres of water for less than a quarter. I could barely believe it. Although, my initial reaction was to assume that I was getting the "white girl's price" (bad idea in O'Hare) and so I almost started to bargain with the woman selling the water. I opened my mouth and stopped myself, laughed, said, "No, thank you," and walked away. When on the Cleveland-bound plane (finally!), as we were taxiing out of our gate, the captain informs us that he is doing a new fuel saving maneuver and shutting down the engines. Because we can't leave yet due to weather over the lake and we'll need to sit in the runway. Yeah. For 90 minutes. Yeah. That's as long as the entire flight. In our hot, sweaty, sticky plane, I sat, cranky. It didn't take long for me to head to the back of the plane to ask for some water. The girl at the front of the plane, if not expressing our sentiments, perfectly expressed our mood as she whined and cried: "But I don't want to fly; I don't wanna go; Moooom! I don't wanna!" She probably wailed for 45 minutes of our wait, and I laughed because of her for most of it. It was just too appropriate. Throughout my stay in India, it would be at these moments that I would mentally listen for an orchestra cue, and I would sing to myself, often out loud: "These are a few of my favorite things..." The Sound of Music had an unusual niche in my experiences in India. Indians loved it, it was in The God of Small Things, Kevin and Gina sang in incessantly for about a week, and it generally came up at unusual moments, like when Sudharshan started playing it on his sitar during one of my lessons. I sang it whenever I was without toilet paper, power, clean clothes, food, anything. I did this at least daily, especially at the end of my trip. It kept me smiling. Back to plot: I got into Cleveland finally, found Mendon : ) and dropped my carry-ons off at the car, so we could carry my suitcase and sitar without that extra hassle, assuming they arrived. My sitar did, my luggage didn't, we tried to file a claim, after dropping the sitar off, and realized that we didn't have any of my baggage claim info (it's in my checked bags). So, we got that, realized that we had two slips and no way to distinguish between which had arrived and which was lost, sent Mendon to the car for my sitar's tag, and finally filed a claim. In spite of all of this, I was still ridiculously happy. I was home, with Mendon, almost asleep, and ONLY one bag was lost! Although, let me be honest for a minute. My flight was challenging because I managed to pick up a less-than-fun bacteria/parasite/bug right at the end of my stay in India. I'm still struggling with it, but it's managable now that I'm here. I can stay hydrated easily, I have loving support and sympathy from Mendon and co., and I have a nice, clean, US bathroom, with things like soap and toilet paper.

What else? The last day of India, I was taken out to lunch by the family of a co-worker of my uncle. There should actually be an "in-law" somewhere in that mess. We went to an Indian version of a country club and had an Indian version of Chinese food. After that, we went shopping for a bit, where I bought them a small candle arrangement, because one must buy gifts for people in India, all the time, for all occassions. They, although I didn't know it, bought me a necklace (garnet), a skirt, a shirt, and a purse/wall hanging/I'm not sure what it is. Welcome to India. They also gave me a gift to give to my Uncle Frank. I'm sorry, Uncle Frank, if you're silently reading my blog, I'm going to ruin your surprise. They bought, amongh other things, a big elephant that is probably 4x6x3.5. This sounds small, but remember, I only have one suitcase (which is Mendon's blue and black one; not huge) and it was already stuffed full and packed. So, now, in addition to needing to find a place in the suitcase for my gifts, I also had to find a place for the gifts for my Uncle, one of which was a large, solid wood elephant. I managed. It's here. I even have the gift bag that they sent with it.

Last night, it rained. And rained. With thunder and lightning. It was great. But I was amazed at how quickly the streets become rivers and the sidewalks islands. Chennai floods so quickly. Certainly, this has quite a bit to do with the drainage. I had not realized that it was so inadequate before. The rain wasn't that different from what I've seen back in Ohio, but the streets... wow.

Last night, I also went to a party. I enjoyed myself. It was sweet because all of the Indian and Miami students dressed in traditional Indian clothing. All of the women were in saris and the men in dhotis. It was very lovely. We spent the evening socializing with a bunch of Fulbright scholars. They are all teachers from the Philly area who teach about India. Appropriate. In addition to that, we had some of India's greatest musicians come to perform. We also had India's greatest composer stop in. (A.R. Rahman). It was such a shame because there were so many people at the party who didn't realize who Rahman was, and so they didn't quite know how to be respectful of him. For instance, one of the teachers has a "Flat Stanley," which is a photocopied cartoon man. He is doing some sort of a journal with Flat Stanley that follows him as he travels. As cute as this may be for his 4th grade class, he asked Rahman to hold the paper for a picture. To be honest, I'm not sure that I would be willing to do that; it was fairly humiliating. Oh well.

Not the Lotus Temple:

After I had found my way to post in an internet cafe, I left shopping and headed back to the Baha'i House to pack, shower, and get ready to spend my last afternoon at the Lotus Temple. Once I had my sari on, I found that my roommate had found a lunch for me, which consisted of pomegranate and another fruit, which she called Goa. I'm assuming that Goa refers to its origins. She took a "snap" and I headed out to the temple. Upon arriving, I realized how amazingly crowded it was. People were everywhere and in the words of Mrs. Nanda, they were drunk. Not that they had had too much to drink, but they were disrespectful and generally out of control. They were noisy in the temple, didn't turn their mobiles off, and snickered, laughed and pointed at any volunteer that was white. I probably wouldn't have noticed that last group of behaviors, but I had offered to volunteer for the afternoon. I'm glad I did. Doing so exposed the frustration that all of the volunteers face. Because of it, most of the youth were ready to attack the tourists. Justly so, most of the people there, besides disrespecting the other visitors and the Temple, were insulting the volunteers and everything that the Temple represents to them (ie. their Faith). I'm assuming that this atmosphere is a result of the Lotus Temple's tourist attraction status. Buses of people are brought in daily and they are told something similar to what I was told: "Well, Tourist, we will next be at Lotus Temple. This is Baha'i Temple. Baha'i was started in 1844, Iran. Temple was built in 1986. Very beautiful from the outside, nothing to see inside. Again, nothing to see inside; don't waste time in information center." If the Lotus Temple remains a tourist attraction for most of the hours of the waking day, it will continue to be just that. Visitors will be noisy and disrespectful, and the Temple will only be a house for worship at night. I'm interested to see how the Indian Baha'is balance using the Temple as a teaching opportunity and their desires to have the Temple be a house of meditation and prayer.

Outside of this academic line of thought, I really enjoyed my time in Delhi. The Baha'i volunteers were friendly and wonderful. Everyone at the Baha'i House was amazingly accomodating as well (they loved to serve me tea; you should have been able to guess as much). All in all, my trip, in terms of my "Baha'i experience," was ideal. I had my two guardians (Misaq and Fauez) taking care of me, the Baha'i House and its staff providing a room, cleaning, and care, etc. In the past four days, I've been shown so much love and generosity that most of the rest of my 9 weeks pale in comparison.

Advice for women travelling alone: carry a weapon.

Reality: Part of my learning experience in Delhi was of a sexual nature. Before any one thinks of being concerned, I've not been harmed and I returned to Chennai safely. I even felt safe (mostly) as I was travelling; I was carrying my mase. : ) Back to Delhi. There is a lot of sexual tension surrounding me just because I'm a white female that is alone. I get stared at just because of my skin, but every male between the ages of 16 and 40 gives me "the look"/"the stare" and I generally feel filthy when I don't have a male companion. And, I can count on at least one male per destination doing what has come to be known, in my mind, as the Routine: Hi. Your name? Tourist? Very beautiful/pretty. Can I have your mobile? No? Landline? Where are you staying? Usually, I ignore them, or leave. But, I've also at one point said that I was engaged and not interested. Well, engaged means very little I've found. They'll talk about my husband regardless and still follow me around. I've also had a few awkward moments a night on the trains with males. One openly fondled himself and another tried to secretly hump his way to sleep. Those are the moments when I held my mase close to me; my Indian teddy bear. I do this out of my own discomfort; I'm not positive that these acts were intended to be threatening, but they were regardless.

More advice: Don't let anyone take your picture.

Besides being obnoxious and creepy, people who approach you to take a snap, if allowed, will have complete control over your image. You don't know what they'll do with it, or how much they'll get for it. These are good things to know. Additionally, it's not wise to hand your camera off to someone else to have your picture taken. This is a little more obvious when it comes to advice, but I suppose that it's still worth the mention.

Advice from Mendon (as close as I can recreate it): It doesn't matter if you offend someone. If you're uncomfortable, your safety and well-being are your immediate priorities. Make them known and seek help, if possible, to achieve them. People, if they are worth anything, will understand and remedy their behavior or your situation.

I post this for others and for myself. I'm not always the best at recognizing when I need to start acting for my health and immediately doing so. I've a tendency to assume the best in people, which can lead me further into situations that are less than desirable. This happens in the States as well, but I'm better equipped to handle it there (ie. I know the culture).

Addendum:

Advice: As a woman, don't stay on a train for more than 5 minutes unless you have a seat available to you.

Standing room will not suffice, as you will not be accorded adequate personal space. Although many are comfortable with sacrificing personal space when need be, there will often be other violations that may take place if you cannot defend that space. Local trains are especially notorious.

Advice: Don't talk to strangers. :)

I've had a lot of auto drivers and street salesmen offer me free rides, gifts, etc. while claiming that they are just being friendly, or that it is their holy day, whatever. That's a bad idea. Many auto drivers, if working for lower prices, will add extra stops into your route, like touristy shops where they get kick backs. The salesmen have similar perks. This can be incredibly frustrating. Similar manipulation can be seen everywhere.

Check-in part 2:

I'm back in Delhi. That is, yesterday I was in Agra to see the Taj Mahal. It was unusual to all of a sudden be in a place that I never dreamed I would be. I'll be sure to post pictures and write about that once I return to Chennai.

Far more amazing was the day before. I spent the day with the same two Baha'is that I had mentioned in my last comment. Misaq and Fauez. They essentially took care of me and made sure that I had an enjoyable time in Delhi. We spent the day in Delhi doing some touristy things and then that night, Fauez and I went to the Temple (Misaq had a lecture to give at the Baha'i House). Fauez and the rest of the Baha'is were busy for some time, which meant I had the Lotus Temple to myself so that I could sing and pray and just relax. It was so wonderful. After I had a few prayers alone, the rest of the Baha'is joined me and they sang (There are some male volunteers that can really sing). After a short while, the volunteering Baha'is filtered off to bed, turned most of the lights off and told Fauez and I that we could stay as long as we liked. We prayed and sang and listened for about an hour before we left. We got back to the Baha'i House about 2 1/2 hours after we arrived at the Temple and I was giddy over the priviledge that I was just allowed. So, I'm happy, well, challenged, exhausted, and headed back to the Temple for one more visit soon. Tonight, I leave for Chennai, and I'll be there after about 1.5 day's train ride. I hope that you're all well and looking forward to dealing with me again soon. I will see most of you in a week or two.
Much love-

I ususally try to avoid, if at all possible, to just recount the events of a day. Not today. Sorry. I went shopping this morning. Got a suit for Mendon (yay!) and got salwar kameez stitched for Momma and Maman. Did some bargain shopping and then I went to yoga. Mostly, it was an uneventful day. But, this evening, I had scheduled an outing with a lovely boy named Rajesh. This consisted of a motorcycle ride. I can feel my mother cringing already. : ) The goal of this bike ride was for me to get some footage of Chennai. So, I take my camera, the expensive one that I just bought, and we hop on the bike. Considering that a camera without a tripod takes two hands, a camera on a motorcycle needs about six. Thus, I spent the past hour balancing on the back of a motorcycle, both of my arms and hands in the air with my camera. And, yes, I held my hands over my head for an hour. I was sitting in the back, so I had a freshly shaven head in front of me. We were such a specatacle. If I weren't causing enough excitement, we both had bright yellow shirts on to attract attention as well. I'm not sure that any of that will turn out though, because we may have fed my camera too much at too fast a speed; we may try again. Additionally, my momma has offered to make my wedding dress for me. We found a pattern tonight and it's fabulous. I'm really excited, relieved, and happy.

PS. You may have noticed that I've ceased to post about India. I'm ready to come home. But before that, I'm ready to go to Delhi to see the Lotus temple and maybe the Taj Mahal. I'll be there from tomorrow night until the 19th morning (which is the 18th at night for you in the States). You'll probably hear a lot about that adventure. I'll be on a train for 36 hours to get there. That in itself will deserve an entry.

I want to write something that is relevant. I feel like I've been slacking off since Tsunami. I've nothing to say about the London bombings. Nathan and Mendon have already written about them and expressed my sentiments. There is a Miami student who blogged about the effects that they may have on US citizens (she speculated that we will be even less likely to travel abroad, and will largely remain closed-minded and stereotypical in approaching the rest of the world. This will, of course, only cause more problems). The only contribution that I can make to the discussion that has not already been made is the general opinion of this in India. Simply stated, there is none. No one seems to care. It was on the front page of the Hindu, but 37 deaths and a couple of bombs are just not a big deal, I suppose.

This brings me to the only slightly deeper subject upon which I'm tempted to write for this evening: Literature.

The reaction that I've seen here to the London bombings remindes me of a book that I read last winter: Zadie Smith's White Teeth. It was hysterical at the time. A novel about Indians in England, adopting their culture to what's available. Now a few things are standing out as prominently as Clara's front teeth used to.

Praise to Zadie Smith:
She wonderfully captured the Westernization of India. In her novel, India is less Indian than it's citizens residing in England. She presented a twin study of sorts, in which the favorite twin is sent to India, in hopes that he will become more traditional. The other is kept in England. The English twin becomes religiously fanatical and the Indian-bound twin starts into science and abandons faith. This, in my mind, is a perfect depiction of India although I didn't know it then.
She also wrote about India in a way that haunts me now that I'm here. She used white teeth, to the best of my remembrance, to write about the "rest of the world" from Western eyes, Clara's Jamaica included. They relate to the setting of the Heart of Darkness. Largely, the motif has come back to me in regards to her references to India. She writes about the natural disasters that occur in India, how accepting Indians are about them. They're just a part of life, as is the deaths they cause. I can't elaborate past this; it's just been over a year too long for me to talk intelligently about it. And it is just too appropriate that Clara's teeth were knocked out, just as cultures in Jamaica and India have been destroyed and consolidated for Western tourists. Abridged, if you will.

I also just read The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. She, too, wrote beautifully about the second colonization that India has experienced through tourism. Even after its independence, India has been made a slave to materialism and then forced to sell its heritage to maintain its worship. India has learned to sell off its gods for gold idols. This is not to say that spirituality is dead here, it still exists, but it has largely been severely corrupted. She wrote about Western tourists that want to get in and get out and get a taste of what they're told India is. They want an expensive postcard. It makes me feel very, very ashamed and guilty to be here and be white. It makes me very angry as well. I hate that my whiteness is an automatic call for beggars. THey see my skin and they come running. People who don't need to beg, in their nice saris with gold jewellery, will ask me for money. "Ma. ma. ma," the persistent call of those who only want my money. Even the auto drivers make me nuts. They automatically double their prices for me. I can never get a fair rate. I've maybe over done my rant, but the point is that The God of Small Things is a book in which I play a role. It is, to an extent, about what white people have created in India and how it is coming back to haunt me in the form of rich beggars, white prices, and this novel. It's about much more, but it is overwhelming me in this regard. The God of Small Things is also about injustice, and the consequences that our sins, as judged by someone else, create for us. It's about innocence, pleasure (and what we'll do to get it), and the ways that we try to deal with the difficulties of life. Many, many ideas in this book. I'll have to do some thinking before I can narrow it down further than all of that.

The maid destroyed my shirt. I really liked that one. I thought it was a good color. Now, not so much. Can't really wear that. It doesn't match like it used to. You'll all need to let me know if you see Mother Theresa's face in it. Maybe Jesus? A prophetic shirt. Oh well. The thing that frustrates me is that Srini told me it was my fault for not giving the maid our laundry already separated. American philsophy says: she is doing my laundry as her job, she needs to do it correctly; otherwise, she is not doing her job and should not be paid for it. American philosophy is kind of harsh. But, then again, you should see what she's done to Gina's $50 white Gap pants.

Yet again, we've had eventful conclusion to our yoga class. Rather than getting locked out, we walked back in an unexpected downpour. Thank you, monsoon season. In case you can't tell, I was actually dripping water everywhere I walked. My pants WERE blue, and my shirt was a light grey. I wrung out my purse and hung it out to dry. Although it's a bit of a pain, the rain felt really good, especially after our class. It was hot and still and sticky and difficult. People pay for that in the States, yoga in the heat. Here, I pay right around $2.50. That's for a 1.5 hour class.

Today I went shopping. It was, for the first time in my entire stay in India, soothing. Theraputic, even. This store was actually similar to most all of the other stores I've been in. Prices, employees, atmosphere, etc. There were fewer people in there, but I'm not certain that that made the difference. My hypothesis: They had the radio station set to NPR. Classical music, oh, my love, you have found me in India! And the voice... the same one I heard every day in the violin shop, the one I hear in the car. Oh, yes, NPR.

I am such a geek. : )

Also, I spent $25 today in the store. I bought 7.5 yards (6.9 meters) of fabric, two batik skirts, and two nice shrits (man's and woman's). Amazing deal. The nicer thing: The clothes are for gifting, which means I don't have to worry about coming back to the States empty handed for any of my friends and family. Whew.

Funny: While I was out on this tour this past weekend, one of our stops was a silk shop. Everything was over priced. I didn't want to buy anything, but I looked none the less. After establishing this with one of the salesmen, he asked where I was from. He guessed: "France, Germany, Britain?" I'm still baffled. I guess I'm more Euro than I thought? Hmmmh.

I knew it would happen. I knew I would do it. It was unavoidable from the beginning. It was just a matter of time.

Photos

This is mostly just an account of the past few days of travel. It's huge and messy, but contains many thoughts and activities.