Monday, January 24, 2011
technological troubles
I apologize for my sparse blog activity! For those of you that aren't aware, my computer waived its white flag about 2.5 weeks ago. I do have access to a local network about once a day, but unfortunately my skype dates, picture uploads and blog accounts have taken a severe hit from this unfortunate event. But have no fear, a new computer is on the horizon. Until then, I have been taking copious notes in my journal about my experiences and i will type them up later!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Going coconuts!
Once orientation ends I won’t have something to blog about every day, but until then fest your minds on more orientation excursions!!!!
1/2/2011
Before today our courtship with the city’s transportation was shoddy at best and nonexistent with the local languages, Telegu and Hindi. Why not kill two birds with one stone? We were split into groups, given a destination, assigned a Hindi peer tutor, and given 100 rupees each. We were off to discover the gems of Jubilee Hills!! The trek to shop com, main gate and the main campus are all 30 minutes from Tagore House, so we started on our warm, half hour saunter. We heard a city bus rattle up from behind and instantaneously perked up our attention.
Lesson 1 of transportation, if it moves faster than you, it has the right of way. The food chain of transportation: motorcycles yield to no one (king of the road!), busses yield to the motorcycles due to lack of agility, autorickshaws have quite a maneuverable size but do not accelerate as quickly as other modes (so yield to the bus and motorcycle), the bicycle yields to all motorized vehicles, and finally the pedestrian yields to everything faster and bigger than itself. Astute attention is required when navigating any street! I have already avoided several injuries due to my training in speed and agility. Kept on our toes by the approaching bus, we observed its drunken motions. Bindhu, our tutor, began to lightly jog as the bus approached. We all followed like confused ducklings and watched her gracefully jump aboard. We clumsily followed suit.
Lesson 2, survival of the fittest. If traffic doesn’t yield to pedestrians, why should buses. It felt like a cowboy in a western as I grasped the handle in the bus’s doorway and ran alongside (avoiding uneven terrain) till I could hop from the road to the bus’s steps. Once inside, imminent danger had not been avoided. While counter balancing the sway and jerk of the buses motions I made my way towards a seat, clinging from hand hold to solid foot placement. Once the open seat had been reached, one must make sure (if female) the seat about to be occupied contains a ladies marking. Women are only allowed to sit in pre-marked seats at the front of the bus. Even though I originally found this oppressive, I learned this is actually a safety precaution mandated by the city. A monkey man carrying a satchel of tickets and swinging from the hand rungs on the roof of the bus swiftly exchanged our rupees for tickets. The bus spit us onto the street once we reached the township of Gachibowli. We were stranded in the middle of the road, unable to gain passage to either side of the intersection, but did not have to wait long to hop onto the next leg of our journey: shared auto. Shared autos are a larger rickshaw and have fixed rates!yay!
Lesson 3, always carry small bills and change. The different modes of transportation are extremely economical, so upon arriving at the next township we sampled the local fare to break our 100 rupee notes. I was immediately drawn to a coconut stand: big green coconuts in the shade of a wheeled cart, waiting to quench the thirst of the warm pedestrians!! The vendor whacked off the top of the nut, slipped a straw into the liquid and handed it over. Bindhu watched me suck in a giant gulp. The coconut water was thick and warmish and tasted of spoiled vegetables/milk. Yech! I forced the liquid down. Bindhu smiled and continued to sip from her nut. I felt the pressure from her eyes. I had to drink it…or at least pretend. When she turned her back, I “accidentally spilled” some, but one of my friends kindly brought my spillage to my attention. I wanted to abandon this annoying, distasteful nut, but there were no trash cans. I was not about to contribute to India’s trash problem, so I clenched that nut in my right hand. The vendor’s stand was right next to a goddess’s shrine erected to ensure the safety of the streets. How appropriate! An elderly woman who was dressing the goddess and attending to the needs of the goddess offered grain to bystanders in her honor. She thrust a grain filled hand in my face and I offered my free hand to accept her gift. She looked upset and taken aback, and once again offered the grain to my face. Was she supposed to drop it in my mouth? No, others were eating it out of their hands. I offered my hand again, and she shoved it out of the way and tapped my coconut violently. I had barbarically been offering my left hand!! No wonder she was so disgusted!!!!!I quickly transferred my nut to my left and accepted the grain with my right.whew.
Lesson 4, confidence is key. Bindhu led us toward the edge of another street. We all stood paralyzed a few feet from the edge of the street. “It’s no big deal. Just walk confidently and hold your palm out towards the ground. ” Bindhu offered this information so casually, like we were discussing the weather on a Sunday afternoon, not playing tic tac toe with death. Autos can smell your fear, and if you falter for a second, they take full advantage of your hesitation. My insides were Mexican jumping beans, but I put on a calm demeanor. I stuck to Bindhu like white on rice. Nut in hand, I successfully made it across the street. “This confounded nut is cumbersome and huge! Are there really no trash cans in the nation of India?” We must cross yet another street, and when Bindhu turned her head, I casually dropped my coconut into a large metal pipe ‘trashcan’. It is currently being used as a trashcan and is the closest thing to looking like a trashcan, therefore good riddance of my nut. I feigned more confidence during my street crossing and jumped another bus.
Final arrival at Jubilee Hills! We walked down a side street and were sucked into a colorful, aroma filled road. This short spurt of pavement led us to the gate of a temple to the goddess Kali. Through the iron gate, the temple looks like candyland! Bright and pastel colors adorn the carvings in the pointy roof. Hundreds of shoes were piled near a central fountain, and we followed suit. Although I still anxiously consider giardia when sporting naked feet in the city, I do really enjoy the feeling of bare feet. We washed our feet with a horde of other Indians and filled into que for the temple. Before reaching the entrance, an official looking photographer ushered us out of line and insisted he photograph us for the paper. Whities visiting a Hindu temple; that just doesn’t happen every day. We were able to jump back in line and pass through the metal detector quite slyly. A thick brass threshold separated the outside world from the outer courtyard of the temple. We stepped over its ornate carvings and found ourselves amidst a crowd of Indian bodies. These Indians were surrounding a flat circular slab of stone. One Indian would approach the stone and try to balance a coin on its side. Bindhu informed us if the coin remained standing, the wish would come true, if not, no dice. Beyond the “wishing well”, was open polished stone ground. An older man was laying upon the stone, prone, perfectly sill, praying. Being the first Sunday of the new year, the temple was bustling with people. We opted out of waiting in line to see the inner shrine, and walked along the outside of the candyland shrine to view a mosaic depiction of the idol. Hindus had tied coconut leaves, bangles, and sacks of spices to the walls surrounding the mosaic. All around us all ages, all castes, all levels of mental soundness were paying their respects to Kali. We returned to our shoes, and returned home the way we had come.
This day is not over yet, but I will inform you later of the events later that evening!!!!!!!Hold on to your pants!
1/2/2011
Before today our courtship with the city’s transportation was shoddy at best and nonexistent with the local languages, Telegu and Hindi. Why not kill two birds with one stone? We were split into groups, given a destination, assigned a Hindi peer tutor, and given 100 rupees each. We were off to discover the gems of Jubilee Hills!! The trek to shop com, main gate and the main campus are all 30 minutes from Tagore House, so we started on our warm, half hour saunter. We heard a city bus rattle up from behind and instantaneously perked up our attention.
Lesson 1 of transportation, if it moves faster than you, it has the right of way. The food chain of transportation: motorcycles yield to no one (king of the road!), busses yield to the motorcycles due to lack of agility, autorickshaws have quite a maneuverable size but do not accelerate as quickly as other modes (so yield to the bus and motorcycle), the bicycle yields to all motorized vehicles, and finally the pedestrian yields to everything faster and bigger than itself. Astute attention is required when navigating any street! I have already avoided several injuries due to my training in speed and agility. Kept on our toes by the approaching bus, we observed its drunken motions. Bindhu, our tutor, began to lightly jog as the bus approached. We all followed like confused ducklings and watched her gracefully jump aboard. We clumsily followed suit.
Lesson 2, survival of the fittest. If traffic doesn’t yield to pedestrians, why should buses. It felt like a cowboy in a western as I grasped the handle in the bus’s doorway and ran alongside (avoiding uneven terrain) till I could hop from the road to the bus’s steps. Once inside, imminent danger had not been avoided. While counter balancing the sway and jerk of the buses motions I made my way towards a seat, clinging from hand hold to solid foot placement. Once the open seat had been reached, one must make sure (if female) the seat about to be occupied contains a ladies marking. Women are only allowed to sit in pre-marked seats at the front of the bus. Even though I originally found this oppressive, I learned this is actually a safety precaution mandated by the city. A monkey man carrying a satchel of tickets and swinging from the hand rungs on the roof of the bus swiftly exchanged our rupees for tickets. The bus spit us onto the street once we reached the township of Gachibowli. We were stranded in the middle of the road, unable to gain passage to either side of the intersection, but did not have to wait long to hop onto the next leg of our journey: shared auto. Shared autos are a larger rickshaw and have fixed rates!yay!
Lesson 3, always carry small bills and change. The different modes of transportation are extremely economical, so upon arriving at the next township we sampled the local fare to break our 100 rupee notes. I was immediately drawn to a coconut stand: big green coconuts in the shade of a wheeled cart, waiting to quench the thirst of the warm pedestrians!! The vendor whacked off the top of the nut, slipped a straw into the liquid and handed it over. Bindhu watched me suck in a giant gulp. The coconut water was thick and warmish and tasted of spoiled vegetables/milk. Yech! I forced the liquid down. Bindhu smiled and continued to sip from her nut. I felt the pressure from her eyes. I had to drink it…or at least pretend. When she turned her back, I “accidentally spilled” some, but one of my friends kindly brought my spillage to my attention. I wanted to abandon this annoying, distasteful nut, but there were no trash cans. I was not about to contribute to India’s trash problem, so I clenched that nut in my right hand. The vendor’s stand was right next to a goddess’s shrine erected to ensure the safety of the streets. How appropriate! An elderly woman who was dressing the goddess and attending to the needs of the goddess offered grain to bystanders in her honor. She thrust a grain filled hand in my face and I offered my free hand to accept her gift. She looked upset and taken aback, and once again offered the grain to my face. Was she supposed to drop it in my mouth? No, others were eating it out of their hands. I offered my hand again, and she shoved it out of the way and tapped my coconut violently. I had barbarically been offering my left hand!! No wonder she was so disgusted!!!!!I quickly transferred my nut to my left and accepted the grain with my right.whew.
Lesson 4, confidence is key. Bindhu led us toward the edge of another street. We all stood paralyzed a few feet from the edge of the street. “It’s no big deal. Just walk confidently and hold your palm out towards the ground. ” Bindhu offered this information so casually, like we were discussing the weather on a Sunday afternoon, not playing tic tac toe with death. Autos can smell your fear, and if you falter for a second, they take full advantage of your hesitation. My insides were Mexican jumping beans, but I put on a calm demeanor. I stuck to Bindhu like white on rice. Nut in hand, I successfully made it across the street. “This confounded nut is cumbersome and huge! Are there really no trash cans in the nation of India?” We must cross yet another street, and when Bindhu turned her head, I casually dropped my coconut into a large metal pipe ‘trashcan’. It is currently being used as a trashcan and is the closest thing to looking like a trashcan, therefore good riddance of my nut. I feigned more confidence during my street crossing and jumped another bus.
Final arrival at Jubilee Hills! We walked down a side street and were sucked into a colorful, aroma filled road. This short spurt of pavement led us to the gate of a temple to the goddess Kali. Through the iron gate, the temple looks like candyland! Bright and pastel colors adorn the carvings in the pointy roof. Hundreds of shoes were piled near a central fountain, and we followed suit. Although I still anxiously consider giardia when sporting naked feet in the city, I do really enjoy the feeling of bare feet. We washed our feet with a horde of other Indians and filled into que for the temple. Before reaching the entrance, an official looking photographer ushered us out of line and insisted he photograph us for the paper. Whities visiting a Hindu temple; that just doesn’t happen every day. We were able to jump back in line and pass through the metal detector quite slyly. A thick brass threshold separated the outside world from the outer courtyard of the temple. We stepped over its ornate carvings and found ourselves amidst a crowd of Indian bodies. These Indians were surrounding a flat circular slab of stone. One Indian would approach the stone and try to balance a coin on its side. Bindhu informed us if the coin remained standing, the wish would come true, if not, no dice. Beyond the “wishing well”, was open polished stone ground. An older man was laying upon the stone, prone, perfectly sill, praying. Being the first Sunday of the new year, the temple was bustling with people. We opted out of waiting in line to see the inner shrine, and walked along the outside of the candyland shrine to view a mosaic depiction of the idol. Hindus had tied coconut leaves, bangles, and sacks of spices to the walls surrounding the mosaic. All around us all ages, all castes, all levels of mental soundness were paying their respects to Kali. We returned to our shoes, and returned home the way we had come.
This day is not over yet, but I will inform you later of the events later that evening!!!!!!!Hold on to your pants!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
miscellaneous musings
I want to paint a few pictures for you:
Madhuri (our resident director)- What a firecracker! She is such a demonstrative woman, which seems odd since we have been told to avoid physical contact. She is quite maternal! I have never seen such an interesting face though. Her lips are frozen in a perfect triangle and don’t move when she talks! She just clicks her teeth, but surprisingly she has some of the best English I’ve heard so far. If you watch her speak, it is a complete mind game. You hear the noise and see the teeth chomps, but they are unsynchronized, so it’s a wonder how it forms recognizable sounds!!She would be the best ventriloquist! I have started turning my shoulder /back to her when she speaks to the group because I cant listen when im intently studying her gnashing and quick tongue movements. Her face is always completely serene. She never raises an eyebrow or twitches any face muscle that I have seen. All her facial expression comes from her eyeballs, which rapidly swivel around and bulge.
Indians love their socks- In the airport I noted the sock sandal phenomenon is quite the fashion statement. I don’t see this in the dusty city as much, but it still appears popular. I narrowed it down to 2 reasons: they take off their shoes for mosque or temple and we learned it is never ok to walk around barefoot (giardia, and assorted parasites), or Indians think its cold this time of year! It is maximum of upper 70s during the day, and mid 60s at night, so pleasant. But the Indians wear ski mask type face warmers, and complain about the cold!!!
Malaria medication- all the members of the Study in India Program (SIP) are on some kind of malaria meds. By far the most popular is mephloquine. Mephloquine is a once a week white tablet, which when taken without food makes me scrape my tongue along the roof of my mouth involuntarily from the bitterness. The side effects are nightmarish dreams, depression, aggression and anxiety. I have been having some wacky dreams, but have not experienced any other side effects…yet. But sometimes I day dream about all of the international students going on an aggressive malaria medicated rampage.
All the washing machines have a sari wash cycle!
Mothballs are placed in all of the sinks to prevent bugs from climbing up the drains. At first I tried to use any bathroom as quickly as possible to avoid its bitter odor, but I am growing quite fond of the scent! It’s kind of like the acetone experience in chemistry (ask me about this scent association if you are unaware). Soon the smell of mothballs will make me have to urinate!
The pollution in the air is giving me gnarly black boogers. For the first several days I thought I had a nose bleed because all of my boogers were opaque. Now I understand that is the result of the air quality in my nasal cavity. Mmm! And I have so many too!
The other day I was walking around in a bazaar and felt a burp well up inside of me. Once released, it pleasantly tasted of French fires!!! I have not eaten French fires since we got here. What a pleasant surprise! I never thought I would feel so enthused about a French fry burp that I would have to blog about it.
Madhuri (our resident director)- What a firecracker! She is such a demonstrative woman, which seems odd since we have been told to avoid physical contact. She is quite maternal! I have never seen such an interesting face though. Her lips are frozen in a perfect triangle and don’t move when she talks! She just clicks her teeth, but surprisingly she has some of the best English I’ve heard so far. If you watch her speak, it is a complete mind game. You hear the noise and see the teeth chomps, but they are unsynchronized, so it’s a wonder how it forms recognizable sounds!!She would be the best ventriloquist! I have started turning my shoulder /back to her when she speaks to the group because I cant listen when im intently studying her gnashing and quick tongue movements. Her face is always completely serene. She never raises an eyebrow or twitches any face muscle that I have seen. All her facial expression comes from her eyeballs, which rapidly swivel around and bulge.
Indians love their socks- In the airport I noted the sock sandal phenomenon is quite the fashion statement. I don’t see this in the dusty city as much, but it still appears popular. I narrowed it down to 2 reasons: they take off their shoes for mosque or temple and we learned it is never ok to walk around barefoot (giardia, and assorted parasites), or Indians think its cold this time of year! It is maximum of upper 70s during the day, and mid 60s at night, so pleasant. But the Indians wear ski mask type face warmers, and complain about the cold!!!
Malaria medication- all the members of the Study in India Program (SIP) are on some kind of malaria meds. By far the most popular is mephloquine. Mephloquine is a once a week white tablet, which when taken without food makes me scrape my tongue along the roof of my mouth involuntarily from the bitterness. The side effects are nightmarish dreams, depression, aggression and anxiety. I have been having some wacky dreams, but have not experienced any other side effects…yet. But sometimes I day dream about all of the international students going on an aggressive malaria medicated rampage.
All the washing machines have a sari wash cycle!
Mothballs are placed in all of the sinks to prevent bugs from climbing up the drains. At first I tried to use any bathroom as quickly as possible to avoid its bitter odor, but I am growing quite fond of the scent! It’s kind of like the acetone experience in chemistry (ask me about this scent association if you are unaware). Soon the smell of mothballs will make me have to urinate!
The pollution in the air is giving me gnarly black boogers. For the first several days I thought I had a nose bleed because all of my boogers were opaque. Now I understand that is the result of the air quality in my nasal cavity. Mmm! And I have so many too!
The other day I was walking around in a bazaar and felt a burp well up inside of me. Once released, it pleasantly tasted of French fires!!! I have not eaten French fires since we got here. What a pleasant surprise! I never thought I would feel so enthused about a French fry burp that I would have to blog about it.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Śubh krisamas!!!
I don’t think I have taken a moment spell it out yet, but: I LOVE INDIA! Every turn is an adventure, each experience is different than expected. I never know what to expect, but that is the beauty of it. Indians themselves aren’t certain if a professor will show up to class today, but that fluidity weaves the cultural fabric of India!
12/31/2010
It is new years eve, and up until this point CIEE has been running us ragged. I guess they are keeping us from succumbing to our jetlag type tendencies, which I can still feel lingering in my system. But this afternoon, after finishing our academic consultations, we were free to do whatever we pleased! Freedom! First order of business, we walked to the ATM on campus. The campus sprawls in all directions, and besides a scattering of dorms and academic buildings, it is very rural. We took a dirt road most of the way to shop com (shopping complex), and viewed flat rock formations (which I will be sure to explore later in the semester), expanses of grasslands, a watertower not far in the distance (you know what that means), and a post office on the way. Shop com is a lively dusty place! Dogs skitter all over campus, but shop com seems to be their hang out too. The dogs all look so mangy and unfortunately, it is surprising to see an alert playful pup. Shop com houses an ATM, cobbler, general store/grocery, beauty salon, tailor, and a small food vendor. I suppose it can be compared to an outdoor Indian HUB. It was here, in the shop com I was first acquainted with the homosocial behavior of India. While observing Indians at the shop com, I noted and expected men and women not associating with each other. Even though we had been told, I was still surprised to see pods of men holding hands. It is a platonic friendship grip, but it still made me chuckle. Little differences like that just send me into a giggly mess.
The decision regarding the potential formation of the Telegana state was to be made today, but it will not be revealed to the public until late January (after the major festivals), so our resident director urged us to be home by 11pm to avoid any sporadic rioting. In fact, the entire city has been under a midnight curfew, but they extended it to 1am for new years eve. About 9 of us decided to venture out of the campus walls to the All Crafts Mela. And so our journey began in an autorickshaw. The auto drivers assessed the white skin on our faces and automatically offered us triple the usual price. We were able to haggle our way down to 1.5 the regular auto price (I consider this a victory)! I might need a whole separate post to describe an autorickshaw ride. I will reserve that for later, but know that we arrived unscathed.
The craft mela is overstimulation to the max. I feel like the word overstimulation describes any situation in India thus far (no wonder we are always exhausted). If you show the slightest bit of interest, the vendors pounce and exhaust your resistance. Even eye contact puts them in a frenzy! I began letting my head swivel in all directions and flitted from stall to stall, but soon kept my eyes under control because I felt badly showing interest in a product I knew I wouldn’t buy. After handling many fabrics, caressing several shoes and contemplating countless jewelry pieces, I finally saw something that was worth pursuing. A heavy black stone elephant with bronze metal shards laid in its back!!! Ooh beautiful elephant please be mine! I casually approached the stall. I acted like I was a mature, seasoned haggler.
“How much?”
“eiight hundraaad fity rupee, madam.”
“ohh, too much.” (I put on a puzzled face) “500?” (you are supposed to at least half the price)
“No.” and he shoes me away with his hand. FAILURE! I have never been good at haggling, but it looks like my tequnique hasn’t improved. Maybe I need to be more expressive with my face and body language? Maybe try to be more assertive, or not look like im a preadolescent 13 year old? If you guys have any tips please feel free to educate me in the haggling arts.
I began to feel really faint as I explored the rest of the craft fair, and was having trouble focusing my eyes. We have been told explicitly not to eat any sort of street food for at least 15 days, but I was in dire need. I swerved to the food stands and searched for the least spicy, well cooked food I could find. Popcorn. I gobbled it up and of course it was cloaked in a foreign spice, but it was delicious. Only time will tell if I dodged the diarrhea bullet. I successfully found my way to the rest of the group and we headed off to dinner.
The ride to dinner was epic. We were trying desperately to get to a restaurant recommended to us in Bnajari Hills, Our Place. Before arriving in india it was thought that English could be used almost universally to communicate. After merely a week it is now common knowledge that rickshaw drivers are the exception. But stepping into the auto we had no idea. He parroted the directions back to us, and we assumed he knew what they meant. We of course had no idea where we were supposed to be going and squeezed between cars and tailgated motorcycles while we flew through the city. 30 minutes later, he started assertively addressing us in Hindi. It is all gargles and grunts to me. We repeat the directions and he nods “ok,ok”. He has no idea where the restaurant is, we have no idea where we are, it is a mess! We keep pulling over to ask where Our Place is. Every Indian knows where Our Place is located except our driver, hahaha. We can tell he is frustrated by his more aggressive approach to driving. I was feeling particularly faint the whole ride, and was perched atop every ones’ laps. My friends were holding onto me, and I napped for part of the ride. We finally ducked into a side ally and the face of Our Place is gleaming in front of us!! Our auto driver was laughing hysterically (out of frustration or punchiness?) and we tipped him well. We expected this restaurant to be a small hole in the wall, but in the entrance was a pool of water with floating candles and flowers. The inside was a glorious Indian jungle!!!! In the center of it all was a sitar player goin crazzay. The hostess led us to the upstairs balcony where we could view the green below, but feel intimate. What a meal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can’t use too many exclamation points while describing this meal! Naan flowing like wine, rice dishes galore, an epecially buttery dhal, and authentic Chinese food! There was no shame, just stuffing our faces. Fat and content we tried to hail a cab for the way home, but had no luck. We settled on one auto. Once again crammed to the brim with human limbs, we set off. I once again dozed most of the way home, but it took a solid hour to reach our hostel.
I spent the first moments of the new year in the shower with the electricity shut off. But I quickly dressed and ran to the balcony because I could hear the fireworks and eruption from the city. I could not see anything, but could hear it all, which was a dreamy effect! A friend and I star gazed on the balcony sleepily chatting to ring in the new year until the power was rebooted. What a magical way to change over the decade!
12/31/2010
It is new years eve, and up until this point CIEE has been running us ragged. I guess they are keeping us from succumbing to our jetlag type tendencies, which I can still feel lingering in my system. But this afternoon, after finishing our academic consultations, we were free to do whatever we pleased! Freedom! First order of business, we walked to the ATM on campus. The campus sprawls in all directions, and besides a scattering of dorms and academic buildings, it is very rural. We took a dirt road most of the way to shop com (shopping complex), and viewed flat rock formations (which I will be sure to explore later in the semester), expanses of grasslands, a watertower not far in the distance (you know what that means), and a post office on the way. Shop com is a lively dusty place! Dogs skitter all over campus, but shop com seems to be their hang out too. The dogs all look so mangy and unfortunately, it is surprising to see an alert playful pup. Shop com houses an ATM, cobbler, general store/grocery, beauty salon, tailor, and a small food vendor. I suppose it can be compared to an outdoor Indian HUB. It was here, in the shop com I was first acquainted with the homosocial behavior of India. While observing Indians at the shop com, I noted and expected men and women not associating with each other. Even though we had been told, I was still surprised to see pods of men holding hands. It is a platonic friendship grip, but it still made me chuckle. Little differences like that just send me into a giggly mess.
The decision regarding the potential formation of the Telegana state was to be made today, but it will not be revealed to the public until late January (after the major festivals), so our resident director urged us to be home by 11pm to avoid any sporadic rioting. In fact, the entire city has been under a midnight curfew, but they extended it to 1am for new years eve. About 9 of us decided to venture out of the campus walls to the All Crafts Mela. And so our journey began in an autorickshaw. The auto drivers assessed the white skin on our faces and automatically offered us triple the usual price. We were able to haggle our way down to 1.5 the regular auto price (I consider this a victory)! I might need a whole separate post to describe an autorickshaw ride. I will reserve that for later, but know that we arrived unscathed.
The craft mela is overstimulation to the max. I feel like the word overstimulation describes any situation in India thus far (no wonder we are always exhausted). If you show the slightest bit of interest, the vendors pounce and exhaust your resistance. Even eye contact puts them in a frenzy! I began letting my head swivel in all directions and flitted from stall to stall, but soon kept my eyes under control because I felt badly showing interest in a product I knew I wouldn’t buy. After handling many fabrics, caressing several shoes and contemplating countless jewelry pieces, I finally saw something that was worth pursuing. A heavy black stone elephant with bronze metal shards laid in its back!!! Ooh beautiful elephant please be mine! I casually approached the stall. I acted like I was a mature, seasoned haggler.
“How much?”
“eiight hundraaad fity rupee, madam.”
“ohh, too much.” (I put on a puzzled face) “500?” (you are supposed to at least half the price)
“No.” and he shoes me away with his hand. FAILURE! I have never been good at haggling, but it looks like my tequnique hasn’t improved. Maybe I need to be more expressive with my face and body language? Maybe try to be more assertive, or not look like im a preadolescent 13 year old? If you guys have any tips please feel free to educate me in the haggling arts.
I began to feel really faint as I explored the rest of the craft fair, and was having trouble focusing my eyes. We have been told explicitly not to eat any sort of street food for at least 15 days, but I was in dire need. I swerved to the food stands and searched for the least spicy, well cooked food I could find. Popcorn. I gobbled it up and of course it was cloaked in a foreign spice, but it was delicious. Only time will tell if I dodged the diarrhea bullet. I successfully found my way to the rest of the group and we headed off to dinner.
The ride to dinner was epic. We were trying desperately to get to a restaurant recommended to us in Bnajari Hills, Our Place. Before arriving in india it was thought that English could be used almost universally to communicate. After merely a week it is now common knowledge that rickshaw drivers are the exception. But stepping into the auto we had no idea. He parroted the directions back to us, and we assumed he knew what they meant. We of course had no idea where we were supposed to be going and squeezed between cars and tailgated motorcycles while we flew through the city. 30 minutes later, he started assertively addressing us in Hindi. It is all gargles and grunts to me. We repeat the directions and he nods “ok,ok”. He has no idea where the restaurant is, we have no idea where we are, it is a mess! We keep pulling over to ask where Our Place is. Every Indian knows where Our Place is located except our driver, hahaha. We can tell he is frustrated by his more aggressive approach to driving. I was feeling particularly faint the whole ride, and was perched atop every ones’ laps. My friends were holding onto me, and I napped for part of the ride. We finally ducked into a side ally and the face of Our Place is gleaming in front of us!! Our auto driver was laughing hysterically (out of frustration or punchiness?) and we tipped him well. We expected this restaurant to be a small hole in the wall, but in the entrance was a pool of water with floating candles and flowers. The inside was a glorious Indian jungle!!!! In the center of it all was a sitar player goin crazzay. The hostess led us to the upstairs balcony where we could view the green below, but feel intimate. What a meal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can’t use too many exclamation points while describing this meal! Naan flowing like wine, rice dishes galore, an epecially buttery dhal, and authentic Chinese food! There was no shame, just stuffing our faces. Fat and content we tried to hail a cab for the way home, but had no luck. We settled on one auto. Once again crammed to the brim with human limbs, we set off. I once again dozed most of the way home, but it took a solid hour to reach our hostel.
I spent the first moments of the new year in the shower with the electricity shut off. But I quickly dressed and ran to the balcony because I could hear the fireworks and eruption from the city. I could not see anything, but could hear it all, which was a dreamy effect! A friend and I star gazed on the balcony sleepily chatting to ring in the new year until the power was rebooted. What a magical way to change over the decade!
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