Elizabeth in India

KERALA

29 April-7 May

Quickly after returning from Chennai, I left Bangalore again when my friend Holly came to visit me in India. Holly went to Cornell as well, but we first met on our way to our study abroad program in Paris when we were juniors in college. After our semester ended, we travelled together in Europe. Here we were, many, many years later, travelling together again. But this time we were on a different continent…the Subcontinent.

I had been planning to visit Kerala, the long, thin state on the south west coast of India for a while. Kerala is one of those places that everyone raves about. The unique food, the educated, diverse population, the lush landscape, the fragrant spice forests, the romantic waterways, the surreal tea plantations, and the rich culture had all been calling to me. The timing worked out that Holly and I could go together and that was just perfect. It was especially good for her because it gave her a better sense of the diversity of India. After coming from the desert land of the Rajputs and the Mughal empires of the north, she got to see the greenery of the land of the Malayalis-- “God’s Own Country.”

Cochin

We took an overnight train from Bangalore to Cochin (also known as Kochi), a port city in Kerala. We stayed in Fort Cochin, a quaint area in a quaint city on the Arabian Sea. After checking into our hotel, we went for lunch and to see some of the sites.

Here is what I saw when I went to wash my hands at lunch. I liked this image.

On the way, of course, we had to stop to buy some spices- a specialty of Kerala. The spice trade created an enormous amount of foreign contact, which has added to the rich diversity of the region. There was trade with the Roman Empire, the Arabs, and the Chinese (not to mention the Jews (see below)). And then came Vasco da Gama and the Portuguese who later were expelled by the Dutch, and then of course, the British.

After learning how to make fish masala, we stopped at some of the antique shops lined up one after another in the area. They had some absolutely beautiful things. I really was wishing that I had a house to furnish (about my 100th time of thinking that while living in India), or at least could buy something for my parents (antique-lovers themselves). Oh well, next time. This time I had to settle on a carved wooden bowl.

Just one angle of one store filled with thousands of antiques

Next we went to the Mattancherry Palace (aka the Dutch Palace). There are amazing murals inside depicting stories from the Ramayana as well as Hindu gods in famous mythical situations. Unfortunately, no photos allowed.

We then went through one of the main historical areas of Cochin, Jew Town. I know, I know, it sounds derogatory, doesn’t it? But I assure you, that is the real name of the area that has been home to Jews for thousands of years. According to the tradition of the Cochin Jews, the original settlers came to India in the first century soon after the second Temple was destroyed. However, there is much debate about when and from where the Jews came. In any case, they were in Kerala for a long time and had a long history and tradition. (Funny sidenote—I read through a brochure called “Kerala and her Jews.” It talks about the cruelty of the Portuguese and then how the Jews strongly supported the Dutch at their arrival in 1661. --Guess I am not the first Jew to like the Dutch. hahaha). Today there are almost no Jews left. The small community that had existed has become pretty much extinct, mostly due to their emmigration to Israel. But, there is still the Pardesi synagogue, built in 1558. It has Belgian glass chandeliers and hand painted 18th century Chinese porcelain tiles, each different. The Ark contains scrolls that are topped with gold crowns given to the community by the maharajas of Travancore and Cochin. There is apparently a 4th century copperplate inscription from the Raja of Cochin, but I didn’t see it. By the way, while we were there we randomly met an Australian puppeteer (hmm, not like you meet one of those everyday) and, not only that, but he knew a Fulbrighter named Anna who had stayed at my apt in January. Haha.

Some photos

Our evening program included going to see a Kathakali performance. Kathakali is a “uniquely Keralan form of ritualized theatre.” It is traditionally performed in all night performances in temples, but as a tourist you can see a significantly truncated version in different theatres in Kochin and other parts of Kerala. They perform stories from Hindu epics and the like by not only moving their bodies, but also by using particular facial and eye expressions. The percussionists are also phenomal. I don’t know how they don’t pass out after hours of pounding rythmically and frenetically in the heat. You can go early and get to see the performers put on their elaborate makeup and then be further transformed by their ornate costumes. If you have ever seen a photo of a man with green face make up, highlighted eyes (where the whites of the eyes are pink) and white and black jutting additions to his face, this is a Kathakali performer. Here is one:

Before the show, we walked around the beach where the famous Chinese fishing nets are operated daily by at least four men each. These nets were supposedly brought to this coast by traders from Kublai Khan’s court. They let me help them pull in the catch! After the performance, we got to partake in the delicacies of the sea and ate fresh fish. Yum.

Thrissur

On the 30th, we got to experience something incredibly unique-the festival of Thrissur Pooram. I had sort of planned my trip around this festival because my guidebook listed it as one of the top 40 things to do in India. After eating a delicious western breakfast at this art café called Kashi Art Café (mentioning it for anyone who might be going to Cochin ever), we shared a taxi with a British couple also going to the festival in Thrissur (about 2 hours from Cochin). They were great company and we spent the day observing the amazing rituals with them.
I am not sure of the origins of this festival or what the particulars represent, but it is pretty amazing and filled with intense energy and passionate participants.

We sort of wandered the streets trying to figure out what we were supposed to do when we saw a huge line waiting outside of a temple. We didn’t want to wait and had been directed to go to a different area by some people, but I wanted to find out what was going on. So, I went up to a police officer who said I could go straight threw into the temple. This was one of the many situations where being a foreigner gives you ridiculous benefits. On the one hand, I always feel guilty about these overly generous advantages, but on the other—who the hell wants to wait in line for two hours!? Haha. I guess you can imagine that I took the officer up on this benefit. We went into the temple where we found a row of heavily decorated elephants with 3 men atop each and a large area of drummers and horn players surrounded by a huge crowd of men surrounding them dancing frantically to the rhythm. It was madness and the photos just don’t capture the intensity.

Me with the elephants during the early part of the day (inside the temple)

These activities were just the precursor to the main event of the day when the line of elephants come into the main area of the city and are faced (about a kilometer away) by a parallel row of elephants and men in a sort of battle of music and flash. Each of these rows is a representative from two major temples in the city. In between these two “fighting lines” are thousands upon thousands of energized men, dancing and screaming along with the percussionists and horn players. The music slowly, slowly builds until the horns blare and the men on the backs of the elephants stand and hold up three objects symbolizing royalty-silver handled whisks of yak hair, peacock feather fans and silk umbrellas. It seems that there is a competition between the two lines of 15 elephants—the object is to see who can open up their umbrellas with the most adroit speed and, and I think more importantly, which side has the more elaborate, interesting umbrellas. This goes on for hours until the umbrellas become more and more ornate, first being only one level, then two, three, four and even encompass a larger display of swamis and god images. Though you still can’t imagine the vibe, the photos may help give an idea of what it was like.

An example of the umbrellas (it went on for a few hours)

The crowd

As I keep saying, it was pretty intense (did I also mention that they conduct this festival during the hottest time of the year—proving their madness). Because of this, I was warned to not go. However, it wound up that once again the foreigners got some unfair priviledges that helped to make the day one of enjoyable, organized chaos, instead of out-of-control horror. There was a roped off area for those not from India—the whities as Mitali, Lizzy and I like to call them (us). And here is a photo to prove it (and which made me laugh out loud).

See the sign? Haha. All the whities.

The days events are capped off by displays of fireworks, but we felt it was time to head out.

Backwaters

The next day we enjoyed one of the quintessential Kerala activities—a long-boatride through the beautiful backwaters. The backwaters are lakes, canals and rivers that are right inside the strip of land that is along the ocean (I don’t really know the exact definition of what they are). The lush greenery and the sparkle on the water are dazzling. Getting a glimpse into this semi-island type life where people farm on small strips of canaled land, make use of every single part of the coconut (for eating, oil, to make alcohol called toddy, to make rope, to use as fuel for heating and drying clam shells that become lime, and the list goes on), and use long, traditional boats for transport was amazing. It is really peaceful and pleasant. One can clearly see why this is the most popular thing to do in Kerala.

Our boat

Me and the boatman

Here is the lunch we were served (on a banana leaf!). Yummy!

Drying shells in a small factory to make calcium

Common transport

Waterways and farming

That evening we celebrated my pre-birthday with a dinner at Brunton Boathouse, one of the nicest hotels in Fort Cochin. We got as dressed up as we could and went for a lovely meal. The concierge was quick to point out to us that Heather Graham had stayed there too. So many times I have seen or eaten or just entered these fancy hotels and I think about how nice it would be to stay there. Well, at least I got to eat there and they gave us complimentary ginger wine, which was delicious. Holly really loved it so I gave her mine. Then she wound up treating me for my birthday. So sweet!

Here we are

Munnar

The next day we left Cochin really early to go to Munnar, a hill station in the heart of tea plantation country. The reason we left so early was because on the way we wanted to stop at this elephant reserve where they bathe the baby elephants down the way in the river every morning. Hooray! It was so great! Here you can see me with the “little” ones.

Yay!

On the way to Munnar from the elephant camp we stopped to see some beautiful waterfalls. One was called Varala Falls, and I am not sure of the name of the other. You could see the terrain changing as we were climbing up, up and winding around, around the mountains and through the mist. It became magical and otherworldly-the mist encircling the mountaintops, leaving enough green peeping through so you could see the surreal swirls of the rows upon rows of tea plants.

Munnar is known for its tea plantations. When we got there we went for a tour of a tea factory. It was pretty interesting, especially because it was really small and we could get right next to the machines and see what was happening. And then something surprising happened, we tried to give the tour guide a tip, and…he wouldn’t take it!!!! Unheard of in India! Haha.

We then went to get advice from a local named Joseph Iype who prides himself on being mentioned in many guidebooks for his free advice. His wife said we could come and walk through the plantations by their house and that is just what we did in the afternoon.

If you have never seen what tea plantations look like, you are in for a treat. There are probably lots of bad things you could say about them—how they were controlled by the British and now by big companies (mostly Tata—a huge Indian conglomerate that few people know outside of India, but basically owns the subcontinent. Tetley tea is Tata tea.), how they are worked mostly by poor Tamilian women in the rain for just rupees a day, how they probably ruined the natural landscape or something like that—but you still can’t help but get lost in their mesmerizing patterns. I took about a million photos, but will just share a few from a walk that Holly and I took on a plantation. I could have stayed there for more and more hours, but it was getting late. It is hard to tell how amazing it looked, but maybe you can get a feel.

Women working the tea plantation

The next day was…MY BIRTHDAY!!!!! (haha, I know many of you know how I was always obsessed with my birthday—I am not really so much anymore). Unfortunately, it was raining. It didn’t matter much because we got on our way early to head to our next stop, Thekkady, to go to the Periyar Nature Reserve (famous for elephants). The drive south of Munnar was just as beautiful as the drive east toward it, but very windy. We were very grateful that we hired our own car and driver, as I can get car sick.

Thekkady

We got there, got a hotel—decided to splurge a bit and get a nice place because it was my birthday (btw, splurging was a place that was $20/night (for the both of us)). I was proud of myself because I bargained well. Hehe. The place looked like a Scandinavian lodge on the inside. Here I am

The main road in Thekkady

We got to town too late to really do outdoorsy things, so instead we did some souvenir shopping for Holly. We went into a Kashmiri shop (of course) and befriended the guys there (as usual). When I told them it was my birthday they insisted that we have lunch with them the next day-their aunt would make delicious Kashmiri food for us. So, the next day we took them up on their offer, and boy were we glad that we did!! It was probably one of the best meals I have had during my whole time in India-delicious! Here is a photo of us at their house (which was about 50 feet from the store).

Back to my birthday-after shopping we went to get Ayurvedic massages. For those who don’t know, ayurveda is a traditional school (if that is the right word) of Indian medicine that originated in Kerala. There are other similar versions from other areas too. Anyway, it uses plants, spices, foods, etc. to derive medicines in different forms and amounts for each person according to his or her problem. Lizzy, my roommate, is studying about ayurveda here so I have learned a little bit about it from her. One of the treatments (and what many Westerners partake in) common in ayurveda are massages. It is a little different from the tradition massage you would get in a spa in the west. I have heard that the traditional ayurvedic massages don’t use as much digging into muscles that we would think of and instead focus on the application of oils. I don’t know much about it, but it was really nice. What a treat for my birthday! And they threw in a steam bath for free (b/c I asked and used the birthday as an excuse for getting something extra-haha). After the massage, the woman then gave me a bucket bath with warm water. I loved it! I felt like a kid again, like when I would have been in the bathtub and you get water dumped over you to get the shampoo out of your hair. What fun!

The herbs used in ayurveda (in a beautiful wooden chest)

Beautiful purple flower that fell to the ground at the spa where we got the massages

After our massages we went back to the hotel to get ready to go to dinner. We went to the Taj as a treat (but it wasn’t that great really) and during dinner realized that we had also been together 10 years before for my 21st birthday in Paris!!!!!! What are the odds? There are only about 2 people I still know who were with me on my 21st birthday in France. Who could believe that one of them would then again be with me on a third continent?!?!?! Pretty amazing.

The next day we woke up early to go on a boat tour of the nature reserve. It had been raining and so we were informed that a lot of the big animals wouldn’t be out by the lake for water. They could get it elsewhere deeper in the forest. Of course, this was incredibly disappointing, since I wanted to see elephants. But what can you do? It was still pretty nice and we did get to see lots of animals (nothing overwhelmingly cool though, except right in the beginning we saw some turtles—yay!).

We couldn’t go trekking in the forest because there was a Hindu festival, so we had no other opportunity for being outdoors and seeing wildlife. Boo! Instead, we bought t-shirts with elephants on them. Haha. Then went to the delectable Kashmiri lunch (and learned how to make delicious Kashmiri tea with cinnamon and saffron); then to buy copius amounts of spices (including cardamom—I can make a mean masala chai! (well, I guess it is more like cardamom chai)); then stopped at a spice plantation to see what vanilla beans, coffee, mint, cardamom, betel nut, cocoa, and a million other spices actually look like; and then got on our way for a 6 hour drive to Varkala, the beach!

Varkala

Varkala came highly recommended as a less touritsty beach with dramatic cliffs leading down to the sand. Yes, all of this is true, except the biggest drama we encountered was not the view of the cliffs, but the violent storms thrashing rain and wind upon us during our stay. There was debate about whether this was the monsoon coming early or was just a big storm, but either way, the result was the same. Rain, wind, dark clouds, and more rain.

It was actually beautiful and quite awe inspiring to see such a storm at the beach. I was glad to have the experience because most of the time you are only at the beach with the sunshine. There is something so enormous and natural about the ocean and about a storm at the beach, something that makes you feel so insignificant in that wonderful kind of way. For this, I was grateful to be there. To be on the coast, inside my hotel room staring at the waves crashing thunderously down again and again, or to be at one of the bungalow restaurants, underneath bamboo leaf thatched rooves, feeling the wind rush across my skin and hearing the crash of the ocean, was really very overwhelming and calming at the same time.

looking out at the storm

The beautiful cliffs!

Me down by the beach on the rocks

That being said—how many days can this really be interesting??? Not many, I assure you. We mostly hung out at this one joint, Kerala Coffee House, where a bunch of tourists were doing likewise. Met some people, listened to some music and such. We felt like regulars after only a few hours.

The tablecloth being blown by the wind at the place we hung out

We did make use of our time in Varkala by taking a yoga class—very nice—and a cooking class!! I had been meaning to for a while. We went to the house of a chef named Joseph. His friend, Siva, was there too because he also wanted to learn some recipes. It wound up being a really fun and funny afternoon/evening. Not only did I learn to make fish curry, but also I got to hear funny stories about these two Indian guys and their European girlfriends. Siva was even reading, “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus.” Haha.

Here is Joseph.

So then, we headed back to Bangalore, where Holly got to go out and shopping for one day before she had to head back to the US.

CHENNAI and AROUND

21 April –26 April

My first visit to Chennai (as usual, I am pretty behind), formerly known as Madras, on the Bay of Bengal.

I took the ridiculously cheap overnight train (I think about 150 rupees for a 6 or so hour journey). You just have to love the Indian railway system—it is so remarkable. Not sure if I ever mentioned this before, but it is the largest civilian employer in the world, with a staff of 16 million (yes, million)! I arrived pretty early in the morning and went to my friend, Gardner’s, place, but only stayed for an hour or two before heading south to Pondicherry. I had decided to take advantage of going to Tamil Nadu, and see some things around Chennai as well. Tamil Nadu is the easternmost southern Indian state. When people talk about south India, they are often referring to Tamil Nadu (well, that is what my guidebook says and I think it is true). It is known for its temples, statues, carvings, and people who vigorously guard their language and culture. In that context, I think of them as the France of India. They have a rich culture, tradition, and language, but again, I don’t really know that much about it. It is sort of funny that I am describing Tamil Nad (as it is often referred to) right before getting into my time in Pondicherry. This is because Pondicherry was a former French colony and people who visit if often do so to eat good French food, drink wine, and escape “India” for a bit. So, it is not your typical Tamil Nadu city.

Pondicherry

I took the 2 ½ hour bus ride down along the ECR (East Coastal Roadway), which is a new stretch of highway leading south from Chennai. It is a beautiful road in both senses of the word. That is, the road runs along the beautiful blue water all the way to Pondicherry and provides pleasant breezes and lovely scenery (especially for someone like me, who loves the water—you can take the girl out of Long Island, but you can’t take the Long Island out of the girl. I have hated living so far away from the calming properties of the vast ocean). One amazing image that I wish I could have captured in a photograph was one of three graves, marked by white crosses (remaniscent of something you might see in Greece) standing alone on the stretch of land just in front of, but also the same color as, the beach. These white markers contrasted beautifully against the ochre sand with the bright turquoise/blue water in the background. Next time, I will have to get it.

The other way in which the road was beautiful, was one that in the US we would not even notice, but it is very much appreciated here in India. That is, it was incredibly well paved and entirely smooth. In fact, a few weeks later when Mitali went with two Indian friends, one of them kept saying how beautiful the road was. I had thought he was referring to the scenery, but then he told me they drove on it at night. Huh? I was surprised and was trying to reconcile these two facts when I overheard him mentioning to someone how there were reflecters all along the road. Aha! He meant that the road was new and perfect. That was more important in the Indian context.

I arrived in Pondy (as it is often referred to) and quickly put my things down to go get some lunch. I was staying at one of the guest houses of the famous Sri Aurobindo Ashram on the suggestion of a friend of mine from Calcutta. The ashram was started by the late Bengali guru who was equally known for his political activism as for his spiritual enlightenment. The accommodations were sparse, but fine, and I needed to rush if I wanted to get lunch at the ashram. The cost of lunch (and dinner, which I didn’t go to) was included in the tarif for the room. All of this was a wopping 92 rupees. For all of you not well versed in the currency conversion rates of the rupee to the dollar, that is about 2 US dollars. Haha. The meal was basic, but pretty yummy and while sitting cross-legged on the floor eating my lunch, a devotee started to talk with me. She, like so many of the followers, was Bengali and came down from Calcutta for a few days before heading back home to continue her job as a physicist researcher at a university. There were signs with encouraging words everywhere, quotes from Aurobindo or from The Mother. She was a French woman who came to India as a young woman looking for enlightenment (or something like that) and became Aurobindo’s second in command. She also led the movement after his death until her own passing and was the force behind the creation of Auroville.

Auroville is a new age attempt at a utopian society settlement about ½ hour from Pondicherry. Some claim it is the beginnings of a world where nationality, race, class, religion, and sex are all transcended, where peoples of the world can come together and be equal, living in a sustainable community. Others claim it has done little in its 30 years of existance except reinforce inequalities, become a glorified retirement community for Europeans to escape taxes and create screwed up, drug-problemed children who were raised there. I am probably inclined to believe the latter, but it is not possible to really know what Auroville in fact is if you visit for only a few hours. So, I will reserve final judgement. What I do know is that it has is a lovely shop that sells incense and paper goods (how they earn money for the community) and a pretty good coffee shop. Don’t you think that was what they intended to create when they started the society? It seems to me to be a bit ironic.

I also know that they have spent millions on this space station looking huge golden orb structure that serves as the center of the spiritual life of Auroville. It is really quite interesting, let’s say. You must walk on a flower-lined path for about 10 minutes in complete silence to get to the globe. You then must leave anything you have outside, remove your shoes and walk (still in complete silence) into the structure, along corridors, up a ramp (it is all still under contruction so it looks like a work site inside) to get a viewing of the inner sanctum. This stark white, luminous, utterly immaculate circular room has 6 (I think) pillars around the room surrounding a large, glowing, perfect crystal sphere in the center. It really doesn’t get more new agey than this. But I have to admit, there was something magnetic about it. Perhaps it was the cool, fresh air coming from the airconditioning inside the room contrasting to the sticky, humidity outside of it. Or maybe it was the purity, the cleanliness, the stark whiteness that had some appeal in comparison to the dirt and messiness of outside, of India. I am not sure, but I wouldn’t have minded hanging out in front of the room for more than the 10 seconds each was allowed in order to keep the line flowing. There is a meditation time, when you can stay in there and meditate? Think? Or whatever it is one actually does when one does that (I haven’t figured out yet, but I think you concentrate on breathing). But to take advantage of that I would have had to stay beyond my tour and figured a way to get back to Pondy on my own and I would had to be there with this annoying man who was there with his wife and daughter, but couldn’t get enough about asking me questions about India and American and what I thought about the two. Ahhh! He was driving me crazy, so I opted to pass on the meditation.

Some photos from Pondicherry (I have none of Auroville)

Here is the boardwalk--it made me think of the book The Life of Pi. Jen--I took this one for you!

A statue of the Mahatma along the boardwalk

People enjoying the sea with sheer delight (isn't it amazing how the beach does that to you--makes you like a kid again)

A beautiful park in Pondy

Chennai

After the jaunt to Auroville, I went back to Pondicherry and then caught a bus back to Chennai. After the much longer journey by bus to Chennai than I had had from Chennai (we made a ridiculous amount of stops), I was so pleased to be able to take a nice, cool ride along the beach with Gardner on his motorcycle. Ahhh…

The next morning we went over to another Fulbrighter’s place only two blocks away so that I could finally meet the infamous Blake. Who is the infamous Blake, you ask? Well, for those of you who don’t know the story… (by the way I feel like I may have told this before. If so, sorry.)

October 2003, a few weeks before heading out on my way to India, I met up with my friend Holly in NY. Holly is a good friend from college who was two years ahead of me and in my sorority. She lives in LA now, but was coincidentally in NY while I was there in between my time in Europe and my time in South Asia. We went shopping in the city and then I dropped her off to meet another sorority sister of ours, Julie, for lunch. Julie brought her brother, Eric, with her. When she said outloud that she heard I was going to India on a Fulbright and how exciting it would be, Eric looked surprised and added that he, too, had a good friend from college who was in India at that very moment on a Fulbright. How funny! Quite a small world (but let’s not get into that age old discussion)! He took my email and then sent me his friend’s email address so I could write for advice before I left. And I did write.

What a treasure trove of information I got in response! He was the one person who actually answered the question I had been asking every Indian or person who had lived in India—what should I know before I go? Most people answered, “Don’t drink the water.” “Be careful what you eat.” Hmm, nothing much new there. But Julie’s brother Eric’s friend, who was also on a Fulbright in India, now he, he knew how to reply to that question and did so in a 4 page email on everything from cell phones, clothing, tools to bring, visa issues, flights and just about anything else you can imagine. What luck for me!!! I was eternally grateful to him and printed out that email and carried it around with me for days into and out of every shop I went to for all the things I needed to get before I went to live in India for 9 months.

Julie’s brother’s friend and I continued to email even when I arrived on the subcontinent. He was staying in a city nearby that I knew I wanted to visit so we talked a few times about when I would come and crash at his apartment (he had two extra rooms). I had thought I would maybe go at the end of January, but it didn’t work out. So, we continued to email every now and again, but never did meet.

Then I went to Goa for the Fulbright conference (there is a whole posting on that from February). Julie’s brother’s friend didn’t make it. So, still we didn’t get to meet. How ridiculous was this? I made a lot of new friends, and particularly hung out with this one bunch of PhD students for a good portion of the time I was there. In fact, we got along so well, that a few came to visit me in Bangalore and then I stayed with one, Gardner, when I went to Chennai.

And then, there I was, in Chennai, a few months later, staying at Gardner’s place and going to meet another Fulbrighter who was studying similar things to him, who had the same professor, who was living two blocks away. A Fulbrighter who happened to have a friend Eric from college whose sister went to Cornell and was two years older me and met up with a friend visiting New York from LA for lunch in October. A Fulbrighter named Blake.

This is from a later Chennai visit, but it is the only one I have of the infamous Blake.

After meeting Blake, we went to a posh café called Amethyst in this old mansion that was converted into a café and a “lifestyle” shop. These are stores that sell trinkets for homes, journals, trays, vases, clothes, jewelery, candles and the like. Is this phrase used in the US? I never heard it before, but not sure if it is b/c it is used only in India or if it came into use since I have been here.

Then we took the motorcycle, battled through incredibly trafficy streets, and went to an area of the city called Georgetown. It is an old part of the city with crowded, small streets, designated by the type of goods you can find in the unending lines of shops. You can buy tiffins (and all the steel containers one could ever need to hold food—our version would be Tupperware); wood carvings; posters of any and all of the gods sitting stoically staring out you from their two dimensional space, waiting to be placed on your shrine, surrounded by flowers and incense; plastic goods; and just about everything else.

On the motorcycle in traffic

Shot of the old train station along the way

It was hot and there were lots of people, cars, scooters, bicycles, carts. It barely was noteworthy to me and I realized how different it would have been to have gone there soon after my arrival to India. It was not the kind of place you take a newcomer. Too much chaos, too many beings, too much heat. But I was okay. It felt good to know that I had adjusted to life in India (well, at least somewhat).

We had a nice drive along the water back to his place and then met up with the other Fulbrighters for dinner. We had Indian kababs and thin, flat bread called romali roti (I am sure that spelling is wrong), but rolled up the chicken into the bread like a burrito. Three of the five of us live in Austin and just really miss Tex-Mex food. This was the next best thing. Before we had gone to dinner Gardner asked what I wanted to eat. I said I didn’t care, but the one condition was that it had to be a place where there was no chance at all of me getting sick. Obviously, you never know for sure, but I was particularly worried because of my plans for the following day. Well, we get to Dhaba Express, sit down and all start talking. Within 5 minutes Gardner mentions this one time he got incredibly sick from eating at this place. What?! Didn’t I just say I wanted to go to a place where I couldn’t get sick? Why on earth would we then go to a place where you had gotten sick? Hahaha. It was pretty funny and luckily I didn’t get sick.

The following day I did what I actually went to Chennai to do in the first place—take the Foreign Service Written Exam. This is the first step in the process to try and enter the Foreign Service and work in an embassy or consulate somewhere in the world. For those of you who don’t know, I already have taken this exam, and its successor, the oral exam, and even passed. But right now there is a glut of candidates and so I am pretty far down on the list. The only way to improve my odds is to take the exams again and try to do better. For me, it has become something of a habit at this point. There is no penalty to taking the exam (it costs nothing, for example), so, if you have any interest whatsoever, it makes sense to try. Because the process to actually become a FSO (foreign service officer) is so long, you really have to think ahead. If you aren’t sure you want to do it and then don’t sign up and take the exam, you will have to wait a whole other year to take it (it is now offered only once a year). Okay, enough about that. I will just like to add a few funny comments about my experience taking the exam this time.

I got to the consulate early in the morning. After giving the guards pretty much everything in bag (including a bottle of water), I went inside and sat next to three women. That was it, there was only four of us taking the exam. This was quite cosy I thought. I wasn’t nervous, but thought it would have been a good situation for someone who was—not overwhelming at all. Anyway, we started talking and it wound up that of the four of us, I was the only American born! One woman had just become an American citizen two weeks before! Haha. She was from Germany and was married to an American who worked at the consulate. They had been in Chennai for about 5 months. The woman next to her was Chinese and was also the wife of a consulate staff member. She had just arrived in India about a week before. The third woman was Indian. She was working at the consulate in the legal division. She was Indian born and had been in the Indian foreign service. She and her husband then moved to the US, lived there for over 10 years, became US citizens and were now back in India taking care of his parents. She was even living in Bangalore, but commuting each week to Chennai for work. So there I was, only American born, and the only one not previously connected to the consulate. I thought, ya gotta love America. Here we were, a native German, a Chinese woman, an Indian and a Jew, all together, all equal and all wanting to serve our country, whether it be our new country or our old country (well, to be fair I am not sure how much anyone’s reason for wanting to be an FSO had to do with serving the country or other personal reasons). But it was still pretty cool.

Mamallapuram

The next day, Gardner and I went down to Mamallapuram (aka Mahabalipuram) on his motorcycle. So nice to take a drive along the water and feel the breeze on your arms (don’t worry, Mom, not in my hair b/c I was wearing a helmet). This was on the same road I mentioned earlier on the way to Pondicherry. You pass Mama (that is what we will call it so I don’t have to write it all out each time) on your way down to Pondy. It takes about an hour to get there by motorcycle and I really enjoyed every minute of it.

Mama, which was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1995, has four main things to see. One is the carvings on huge rocks (my guide book calls them “open-air bas-reliefs”), one is the Shore Temple, one is the Pancha Pandava rathas (five separate free standing sculptures), and then just watching the stone carvers, still famous after thousands of years and working their magic making hard, dead stone come to artful life.

First we had lunch. Because there are so many tourists flocking to Mama (haha, it looks funny to write that line), it is known to have good food catering to western tastes. And then we went to see the bas-relief Arjuna’s Penance. You see this image in pretty much every guidebook, but my photos didn’t come out too well. I was there in the afternoon and the light was bad (note to anyone going there—go in the morning). But here is a photo anyway.

This is a famous piece because of its workmanship and because of the subject matter. I seem to recall about some debate regarding whether it is about Arjuna worshipping Shiva or something to do with the origins of the Ganges. Both images are carved there, and reading my guidebook now, it just describes the carvings without mentioning controversy. Who knows? Maybe I am making that up. But it is thought that the carvings here were not necessarily done for any religious or ritual purpose, but more to just display the great talent of the local sculptors. Pretty unusual here.

When you walk right around Arjuna’s Penance you see other carvings and many rocks to climb around. You can walk on top of the boulders and get a beautiful view of the sea. Then we walked over to another area to climb up a small hill to walk around a structure that also gives you a beautiful view of the lighthouse and the sea.

And you can be sure to meet lots of Indians on the way who want to take a photo with you. Or take a photo of you holding their baby. Hehe

Around this area is where you find the sculptors. It is amazing to sit there and watch them work. Unfortunately, I read that they make a little too much use of children to do the majority of the first steps of sculpting and then the adults do the more intricate details. Here you can see one boy with thick glasses doing work.

They produce so many pieces small and large and are the major suppliers to temples all over India. This stone-carving tradition remains intact since the Pallava dynasty of the 5th to 9th centuries (when Mama was a major port). Of course I had to buy a small sculpture myself so we went shopping.

A lot of these sculptures sit on shelves for some time and therefore collect quite a bit of dust. Gardner was looking for a Shiva, and I was just looking around checking it all out. There was a statue of Durga that the salesman was showing me. He said, “Wait a second, you can’t see the real color of the beautiful stone. “ He then proceeded to rub the statue against his sweat-ridden cheek to wipe off the dust. How gross! I said, “uh, thanks,” as I desparately tried to get out of taking it from his hands. The same thing happened in another shop, but this time the vendor rubbed the small statue against his oiled hair to make it shine. Hahaha. Gardner and I had to try very hard to keep from cracking up in his face. Yuck!

Some statues

We then went to an even more famously photographed site, the Shore Temple. This place is quite incredible because it is considered the earliest stone-built temple in south India and, probably even more so because of its locale. This temple is situated right on the beach so you can see crashing waves to your left and to your right. Apparently, it used to look even better because now they have a fence around it, but I still think it was pretty amazing.

And the beach there

Here you can see carvings that remind you of the incredible influence the Pallavas’, particularly because of their “maritime activities” (as my book says), art had on other parts of India and especially Southeast Asia. I know there are so many times when I see figures, such as dragons, and designs that I always associated with Southeast or East Asia. I found out that so many of those originated here in India and spread to other areas.

Lastly, we went to the Pancha Pandava Rathas (the five chariots of the Pandavas, who were the brothers in the epic Ramayana). I ran out of film here so don’t have much to show, but these structures date back from 630-670 AD and are forerunners to the typical southern Indian, Dravida style of architecture.

And that is the end of my first trip to Tamil Nadu. Since then I have been back once and will be going again in another week or two. So, you should hear about those in about month or two’s time. Hahaha.

HOME IN BANGALORE WITH LOTS OF VISITORS

18 March – 20 April

Okay, now that I am two postings behind I am going to write about my time in Bangalore after I returned from my trip to Rajasthan, Delhi, Varanasi and Calcutta. I am hoping to one day be caught up, but know that I this optimism is not based in reality. So this posting contains no exotic travels or interesting destinations. Let’s see if it can keep your attention. Hehe.

When I first came back I was utterly exhausted. I think the travel, the heat, the last nights of little sleep (I was staying in a hostel in Calcutta which was conveniently situated smack beside a huge speaker calling Muslims to prayer at 5:20am each morning), and the mental stimulation of the previous weeks (constant new sights, sounds, things to take in, to process and to experience) just wore me down. I therefore, was sort of out of commission for about a week. I did start contacting the organization I had tentively set up a project with, as well as some others. I caught up with Mitali and Lizzy, said goodbye to some IIMB friends (the school year ended so the second years were done and off and the first years were dispersing for summer internships (summer here is April and May), and then we started to receive the onslaught of visitors we had over that month.

As I said, I had to bid farewell to some friends from IIMB. Mitali and I went down to IIMB for the purpose and went out with Vivek and Sonam. The former was done and permanently going to Delhi to work for American Express (I think that makes person number 352 who I know at Amex, including my sister and one of my best friends). Luckily, Sonam (the latter) is only a first year and will be back in June. However, he is one of my very dear friends (for those who have heard this story—he is the one I lugged a guitar from the US over sea and land to India for) so I was going to miss him much.

Here is a photo of us (but Sonam—you look like a dork in this photo. Hehehe)

And then the visitors…the first of the visitors to arrive was a friend of Mitali’s friend. A guy she had never met and whose contact to her friend was tenuous at best. But of course, this is how being in another country and how travelling works. People always are happy to help out each other. So, a Thursday morning, when I was in the middle of one of my first classes of yoga (I finally found a yogi!—Rajesh. He has no wrinkles on his forehead and told me it is a telltale sign of a good yogi. Yogis should not have them, he told me. They shouldn’t be worried. He reiterates this to me everytime he leaves as I say, “Have a good day” and he replies, “I always have a good day.” Hehe), the doorbell rang and Robin entered. And he didn’t depart until five whole later. And even that wasn’t enough. He came back for 2 more, but I will get to that.

Robin is alsoa an NRI (non-resident Indian), Guju (Gujarati) from New Jersey like Mitali (there are a few names for them, another is “ABCD” American Born Confused Desi (Desi meaning homeland or something, but meaning someone from India)). He is based in NY but was travelling in India for about 2 months. He came to Bangalore because he has relatives here and thought it would be fun to hang out here and go out, etc. So, that is what we proceeded to do. I thought I was good at killing time, but he may be the master of hanging out. I was still in my resting phase and mostly waiting to hear back from the organization mentioned above about my potential project, so it was good timing.

Now, I am not sure if I ever mentioned this before, but Bangalore, you know, it just doesn’t have much to do. Unlike the seemingly unending number of sights, ruins, museums and the like in a city like Delhi, for example, one is hard pressed to answer the following question, “What should I do while I am in Bangalore?”

Hmm, hmm, hmm…We could go out to eat. We could go to a club. We could go shopping. Sad to say, but there just aren’t sights in Bangalore (trust me, even if the guide book says to go to Tipu Sultan’s “Palace”, don’t. It is nothing!). Well, I guess there is the Bull temple (where I took the picture of the Guru, the Nun and the Rabbi), but in any other city that would just be a temple and not mentioned as anything particular. Bangalore is more of a living city than a city to visit (except if you are travelling through India, are tired, know some friends here (in particular, 3 girls who live in an apartment with hot water, cable, high speed internet, a washing machine and a microwave) and want to take a break). Well, I think you get the gist.

So, what did we proceed to do? Go out to eat. Go to clubs. Go shopping. By the end of the five days (by the way, we didn’t realize that it was 5 days until after when Mitali said to me, “Do you realize Robin was here for 5 days?” I mean what the heck did we do for 5 days? Obviously, Mitali and I (Lizzy wasn’t here) got along great with Robin—one of those “here-is-our-new-best-friend, did-we-really-just-meet-five-days-ago?” situations, so we all had fun. At the same time, or at least an overlap of time—can’t remember all the dates already—we had another visitor. Eric, another Fulbrighter who is here for only 3 months doing a specific professional project and based in Bombay, came to stay.

So we all went out to eat, went to clubs, went shopping (okay, I have to confess—I didn’t go shopping, but it sounds better to keep that literary effect going, doesn’t it?). And here are some photos to prove it:

This is from a famous Bangalore eatery called MTR

You can't believe how amazing these fresh strawberry shakes are!

Once again--Spinn

Me and Mitu

So, after going to eat, going out to clubs and going shopping, we had exhausted everything to do in Bangalore and finally, Eric and Robin left as they were both on their way north. Robin was going to Hampi (see my November posting) and Eric was going somewhere and then they were both going to Bombay…or so we thought.

After they left Lizzy came back from wherever she was (can’t remember) and I did some work. I realized it was difficult getting things done while you have a guest who has nothing to do but hang out with you. Hehe. Well, Lizzy, Mitali and I decided it was time to finally do something we had been meaning to do for a while…visit an ashram.

An ashram, for the many of you who don’t know what one is, is described in my guide book as a “centre for spiritual learning and religious practice.” However, the term covers a wide range of places. These are the places that people go to to find their inner self, meditate, learn and practice yoga, study about religious teachings, etc. There are at least thousands, if not more, of them and they all are very different. I do want to go to one for yoga, but the one we were going to this weekend was someplace different.

It is called the Art of Living (trademarked by the way) and is led by Sri Sri Ravi Shankar (not the famous sitar player of Beetles and Nora Jones fame—in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was not one of the most popular names in India) and located near to Bangalore. SSRS is a guru who started the ashram and promotes its philosophy. Here is what the website (www.artofliving.org) has to say--- "Life is sacred. Celebrate life. Care for others and share whatever you have with those less fortunate than you. Broaden your vision, for the whole world belongs to you." “Active in over 140 countries the Art of Living Foundation offers unique programs that eliminate stress and help individuals develop their highest potential. The Art of Living reinforces human values and brings people from varied social, economic, geographic, cultural and religious backgrounds together in a spirit of Service and Celebration.”

For all of you who think this sounds a little wishy washy and touchy feely, The Art of Living is supposedly the movement that a lot of the young professionals in Bangalore follow as a way to network. Haha. So much for spiritual enlightenment. But he really does market himself and the philosophy to businesses and professionals as a way to reduce stress. He says that “Through out our lives we learn many skills reading, writing, science, music and art but very few of us have actually learnt the true Art of Living. We are rarely taught how to handle our negative emotions - anger, depression, stress. Yet, the quality of our life depends upon the quality of our mind. The Art of Living courses offer simple but effective techniques which eliminate toxins and stresses that accumulate in our systems over time. They are a unique way to harmonize and energize the Body, Breath, Mind, Emotions & Spirit. Developed by H.H Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, these courses offer simple and effective techniques for eliminating stress, resolving conflict, improving health and living life with new joy and enthusiasm - A combination of the very best of ancient wisdom and modern science.”

Well, who can’t use a little help reducing stress? We wanted to check this dude out and decided this would be the last time for a really long time that we could go together. So we were off…or so we thought.

We had to leave really early in the morning to get there before the 3 day course started. By 6:30 we were already in the taxi and on our way. I will admit that we were all pretty tired and didn’t seem to be all too enthusiastic.

On the way, we received an unexpected call. Who could it be? Who would be calling so early in the morning?…It was none other than Robin and Eric. They were back! Their plans got messed up so they were back in Bangalore (Ever read Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie? “Back to Bom”? No way—Back to Bang!). We told them that we were sorry, but we were on our way to an Art of Living course (in fact we were almost there already) and we couldn’t see them. Oh well. But then, after we hung up the phone, we started to look over at one another. Well, you know, we could go another weekend… Yeah, I mean, they are not going to be back again... Uh-huh, they don’t really have a place to stay…I am not REALLY in the mood to do this thing for three straight days…and so it went. And, after deciding to go, waking up at 5:30am, hiring a taxi, and driving for 40 minutes we told the taxi driver to stop and to turn around. He must have been thinking, “What? Huh? Crazy foreigners!!!” [Gardner (I think it was Gardner, or was it Lizzy?) told me that the word in one Indian language (if Gardner then it was Tamil) for ignorant person is the same word for white person. Close enough to the idea that saying stupid foreigners was redundant. Hahaha.]

Now, I am trying to relay the ridiculousness of the scene. Trying to give the image of how hard we were laughing after our new decision. Trying to illustrate how silly the whole thing was, but I am just not sure it is coming across. I guess it is just one of those, “Guess you had to be there”and for us, it was hilarious (and we still joke about it).

We wound up getting back to our place and in about an hour or two I got sick! The flu or something. See, it was meant to happen! The cosmos was turning me around. Hahaha (really just kidding here—don’t think India has got to me that much). But it would have been miserable to be sick there and this way I got to be in my very own bed, sleeping for about 2 days. Actually, it was another force that really caused the coming back to happen…the vortex which exists in the center of our apartment, which keeps drawing people to our apartment and then drawing them back again. In fact, Robin, after he went back home to the US, sent us a card with the below photo and a caption underneath it:

The Black Hole of Bangalore. Hahahaha.

Then they were really gone (well, Eric came back unexpectedly one more time, but I wasn’t there so I have nothing else to add on that subject). But then another visitor. This one is really funny. Last year when I went snowboarding with Coz, Stacy and Rebecca in Park City during the Sundance Film Festival, we befriended this group of guys from the West Coast (we were the East coast girls and they were the West Coast guys). We started talking to them because one of them, the tall one who stood a bit above the rest of the crowd was the quarterback of the Cornell Football Team and was our year! What are the odds?! Anyway, Per and I became friends and I kept in touch with him. We hadn’t spoken for a while until I got an email in March. He wanted to know if I was still in India? Why, you might ask? Because he was coming to India for 3 weeks for a business school project. He was going to be in Bangalore. Not only that, but the subject was about how a specific company was trying to make and market mobile phones and services for the poor. In other words, how ICT (information and communication technologies, in this case mobile phones) was being used in development. Now this may not sound familiar to you, but it was the original topic I was going to study here in India. Hahaha. Again, what are the odds?! Of course he and his friend showed up three days after Robin and Eric, but they weren’t staying with me. I was just laughing b/c I hadn’t had any visitors and here they all were squonched up together.

But then there was another, my friend Gardner, another Fulbrighter (see Fulbright conference update) came to visit too. He came the day after Per. It was so funny b/c he was potentially going to come earlier, but couldn’t because he had too much to do. So there it was… almost 2 weeks straight of visitors (when there had been none before). Not complaining, just laughing.

Again, I faced the same dilemna—what to do in Bangalore. And not only that, but for the first time it was really, really hot, and not only that, but all of a sudden I had an allergy attack. Anyway, we pretty much settled on the same itinerary as the others…Go out to eat, go out to a club, go shopping.

However, we did do one sort of sightsy thing. We went to he Botanical Gardens, which Bangalore is supposedly known for (it is the “Garden City”).

Me at the Gardens

Gardner at the Gardens (hehehe)

The Glass Palace

The eating--The highlights of the eating were HAMBURGERS. There is this restaurant called Koshy’s, which is a Bangalore institution. It is sort of like a diner I guess, and when you go there you will see all the artsy, yuppies, and all these old timers (maybe lefties too, but they don’t look it so much) and it is a pretty funny mix. I don’t think the food is all that good, but it one of those places where that doesn’t really matter much. You just go. Well, I didn’t know it, but Gardner filled me in on a little secret (well not really a secret, just something I didn’t know), which is that they have real hamburgers! He was so excited that we went there two days (well actually 3, but it was closed for one because it was Good Friday) in a row and on the second day he got 2 hamburgers. I didn’t get one that day, but regretted my decision. I am assuming here that you realize it is not that easy to find beef in India. Do I need to elaborate? Land of the sacred cow (though some argue this point).

Shopping--The highlights of shopping where that he got to get another book on Shiva (he is the one who is studying the medieval Tamil Shaivite devotional poetry?!?!?!) and a huge Tamil/English dictionary. Not so interesting for me, but good to have a satisfied guest. And then also we saw the cover of The Economist, which was seemingly mocking Bush. We loved that, but didn’t purchase it—too pricey (and too likely to give me stress about the fact that I have three others sitting, staring at me from a pile in the corner, waiting to be read, reminding me that I can never catch up on my reading and even when I do start one it is just about impossible to get through the dense thicket of information).

Now, I to keep with my literary effect I should have told about the highlight of the going to club before the shopping, but I just had to save it for last because we had a really silly night. After having dinner, having 4 or so people bail on our plans, having gone to a very popular club that usually stays open till 2, but was raided on this evening by cops and was closed about 10 minutes after we got inside (just having paid a cover charge, mind you), we almost said forget it and go home. But we gave it one last shot and went to this club I had never been to, but was recommended by the bouncers because they didn’t think that the cops would close it down that night (unlike the rest of the clubs I know about). Club X stays open until 6am. Totally unheard of here and obviously the result of exorbitant bribes required by the cops. Well, 6am…that was way too late for me, an old lady...so it wasn’t like that was a huge draw…or so I thought.

We proceeded to meet the funniest characters, including this 45 year old, depressed, NRI divorcee who was in India for a few days and I have absolutely no idea how he wound up at the club (we felt really bad about his situation b/c he was a really nice guy), these Swiss business school students studying about outsourcing (what else—isnt’ that topic old already?) and the like in India, this guy with hilarious hair that was straight of a fairy tale (we called him the prince) and wound up being half Dutch (can you believe it? What is with that? Cosmic forces, I tell you!), and then these guys who got into a conversation with Gardner about American foreign policy, which made us feel so sad and so bad about the state of the world right now (boo). But then, to top off the absurdity of the night, on our way home (at about 6am—somehow the night just flew by), we got to do something every foreigner dreams of, something every Westerner says, “I must do before leaving India!”…

We got to drive the auto rickshaw home!!!!! Don’t ask how it happened, I am not really sure. I was just thanking my luck stars. And here is a picture of Gardner with the driver.

The one of me didn’t come out too well. Too bad.

I then had a break from visitors. The next week, I did work on my project (I would write about it, but this posting is too long—as usual—already. In a few postings, I promise!) We went to a party at the woman who serves as the Fulbright Facilitator in Bangalore, since there is no office here, Swetha’s, house for a party for her husband.

Here is a photo so you can see her and some other Fulbrighters (and you can get a good view up Lizzy's nose. hahaha--Sorry Lizzy, hehe).

The other two Fulbrighters are Lindsey and Manu, by the way.

Elections

And the elections…Bangalore voted on April 20th before many of the other areas in Karnataka and even other states in the south (they need to break it up so that the voting machines and cops and everything can be moved from place to place. In a large country with 1 billion people it just can’t all be done in one day). Who knew then that the outcome would be what it is today!—Sonia Gandhi, Italian born housewife, Prime Minister to, leader of, the largest democracy on the planet (that ones for you Lizzy, if you are reading this).

I felt so lucky to be in India during its major elections. Great timing. You cannot believe the banners everywhere, the posters, the speeches and also all the other things that couldn’t get done (just forget about it), like anything that required the a government signature or government approval, or even talking to anyone in the government anywhere, until the elections were over. I tried to go to polling places on the day to see the long lines, to view the people exercising their right to vote, to see the special magic marker mark you get on your index finger indicating you had voted so that you could not go in again (my colleague told me that you have to get to the voting place early or else by the time you get there someone may have voted in your name. He also told me about the antics of the obscenely popular Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, Jayalalitaa, a former film actress, now a rotund caricature who pays for Tamilians outside of the state to come back to vote for her by giving them sarees, alcohol and trips to their native place –this is not unique, by the way. Oh, there are a million stories), but I couldn’t seem to figure it out. Anyway, here are the few photos I took, but they don’t capture the omnipresent nature of the pending elections. I may have some more in future posting because, as I said, Bangalore voted early. In Kerala, land of the first democratically elected communist government, they voted after I was there (but that posting is to come).

And then, that very evening, I was off to Chennai. And that is for next time…

Delhi, Agra, Varanasi, Calcutta

8-18 March

Okay, this update will feature photos taken on a regular camera and then put on to a CD, so they are not so clear. You will get the picture though (no pun intended). Also, did not have time to read through it as I am trying to get it posted before I leave for Chennai tonight. That way I will continue to only be one posting behind. The next will be about my month in Bangalore and my project.

Delhi
8, 9, 11 March

We arrived in Delhi on the evening of 7 March and got to catch up a bit with Meg before heading to bed. It was so good to see her after all that time—and so nice to also be in a nice apartment with big beds.

On the 8th we went shopping. Delhi is known for being great for shopping. We tried to take advantage of it, but were not really in the mood unfortunately. We did get to catch up with some friends, Sonali and Derek, who are living in Delhi. Mitali and Lizzy both went back to Bangalore that day and I stayed on to finish my journey.

That evening, I got to do a first—my first Indian wedding. It was the sister of my friend, Sowmya’s (she is the one I stayed with in Bangalore when I first arrived) friend, Kamal. I love how everyone is invited to events in India…and you can bring friends. None of this RSVP and you MAY or MAY NOT be invited with a guest to a wedding (some of you out there know the endless discussions that have occurred about the beliefs on that issue. Hahaha). No sirree, once it was found out that I wanted to go to an Indian wedding, I was welcomed with open arms. In fact, Kamal made such a point to see how I was doing and to have his friends come over and show me around. Such hospitality.

Sonali came with me (and helped me tie my saree!!!!) Here are some photos from the night.

The next day I went to see Meg’s office—very nice and then had some meetings of my own. I had set up times to talk with people based in Delhi who work on CSR issues. In fact, one of the meetings has led into the project I am now working on (but that will be discussed in a later update). That evening Meg, her Swedish friend, Sara, and her colleague, Supna, went to this chic restaurant called Thai Wok for dinner. Very nice-- and overlooking the Qutab Minar at night (see my first posting of Delhi in October).

After a day visiting Agra (will talk about that a few paragraphs below) I was back in Delhi. Had some more meetings and then spent the day in Old Delhi. How wonderful!!! I would love to go back and wander through the age-old streets cramped with nook after nook of wares. Here you have wedding supplies, there you have sequines (and millions, upon millions!), here you have sarees, there you have meat (it is definitely enough to make you a vegetarian—I won’t go into the gory (and here is where that word is appropriately used) details). You really don’t know where to look first. One could probably spend years just walking and watching and investigating. After going to see the Red Fort—less impressive than one would think, I hired a cycle rikshaw wallah to take me around the crevices of Old Delhi.

Here is one of the Red Fort.

Saleem, a particularly clean and we kempt cycle rickshaw driver, then took me around. By the way, he was very nice and promised me to tell my friends in Delhi about him. You can find him outside the Red fort and ask for Saleem (tall, mustached—doesn’t help much, does it?). Though it would be difficult to determine just who Saleem was, he devised an intelligent scheme. I gave him one of my cards, so as to prove that he was indeed the Saleem who took me around. Hehehe. One other funny thing to report about my conversations with Saleem was when we first started. He told me that times have been so bad after September 11th. That American tourism was down and his business was suffering. I responded that I have noticed that there still are plenty of Europeans visiting India. He agreed, but said they were cheap. Hahaha. I really hope some of my Euro friends are reading this. Too funny!

Streets of Old Delhi

He took me on the main street, into a Sikh temple—the first one I had been in. You have to take off your shoes and wash you feet in water that is constantly running outside of the temple entrance. I pressume this water is also cleansing and holy b/c I saw a worshipper drink some after leaving the temple. Don’t mean to be insensitive, but YUCK! The people who run the temple are so kind and are very welcoming to visitors. I now wish I could go to the Golden Temple in Punjab, but don’t think I will have the chance this time.

We then went to the famous Spice Market. I really don’t know the details, but it is the largest spice market in India. It is amazing..the moment you walk in to the structure, used over the years for different purposes (during the Raj it was a residence for British) your nose starts to twitch, your throats starts to itch and your eyes squint longing for extra blinks. After only only a few more seconds sneezes come, and the coughs. At first, stupidly, I didn’t realize what was going on. But then, I came to my senses and realized-- Yes, oh Yes, we were in a SPICE market. Aha! Everyone was sneezing and coughing, even those who work there day in and day out. I could never do it! My photos of the place didn’t come out too well, but here is one

Saleem then took me to the top of the building where we could overlook Old Delhi. It was so great. Here are some photos from that.

Drying papads--crispy flat chiplike things

Then we went to the Jami Masjid, the largest mosque in India. For any who plan to go, be cognizant of the time of day. I went two times and was denied because of the call to prayer. The third time was a charm though and I got in. However, it was the end of the day and the light wasn’t too good. That was particularly frustrating because I had to pay 100 rupees to bring my camera in. Though this is not an absorbatant fee in US dollars, it is the most I have paid anywhere to bring my camera into a site. Oh well. I can’t even imagine what the place looks like with the likes of 25,000 worshippers packed in and bowing to Allah. There was a lot of activity inside, but nothing religious while I was there. More like families and friends spending time together and kids running around like maniacs chasing the ever-present flocks of pigeons.

Some photos

That night I went with Meg to her friend’s going away party. The friend is a Swedish woman who was in India working for H&M, but moving back home because she was going to have a baby. It was amazing to see the apartment of expats who were living in India on expat salaries. Quite something! I could handle that, I think. It was funny b/c the party was mostly Scandinavians and French speakers. I felt like I was back at home in Brussels. Hehehe.

My last day in Delhi I took care of some errands and then met Sonali (wedding pictures) and Sandhya (check out the Goa Fulbright conference) for lunch. We met at the USEFI office (United States Educational Foundation of India—who administers the Fulbright). They redid the reception and it is now quite lovely. Also found out that the woman who was responsible for taking care of things for us was no longer with USEFI--??? Oh well.

After lunch I went to the Modern Art Museum. It was not great, but I am still glad I went. I am not that familiar with modern Indian artists, so it was good to get a first taste. I know I like Jamini Roy and some others. Of course, I decided to buy some posters, and OF COURSE, they did not have any that I wanted. How is that possible? Have you ever noticed that? When you go to an art exhibit they always seem to have picked out the absolute worst pieces to make into the official posters for the exhibit (actually here, there was an exhibit on spirituality in modern art and the didn’t even have a poster for sale—they did have one, but wouldn’t sell it to me???). Who decides which paintings become the posters that are put on sale to museum goers? Who?? By the way, I talked to some artists about this, and they agreed with me.

So, Delhi, which most people seem to hate (even Delhi-ites), I decided wasn’t half bad. I think mostly I liked it b/c it is a big city and therefore has a lot of things to do. I definitely could have spent more time visiting restaurants, lounges, sites, stores, museums and visiting with Meg. But it does have many, many annoying aspects to it. Those are the things that make me appreciate Bangalore (like not fighting with the auto driver and paying 100 rupees for every ride—just to name one).

Agra
10 March

Well, here is something you have all been waiting for…the TAJ MAHAL. I mean you just cannot visit India and not see the “tear on the face of eternity,” as the poet Tagore wrote. Now, most people will tell you that the Taj is one of the few places that is hyped to enormous proportions, but yet still manages to not disappoint. I, on the other hand, wouldn’t really talk about it in that way. There is no doubt that it is incredibly phenomenal. It is sparkling, and shining, white and wonderful, gorgeous and gigantic, but to me, it almost seemed fake. It is one of those images that you have just seen too many times. Lizzy told me the term for this, when something gets imitated so that the original seems fake. It is called simulacrum. Sort of like when you say something you encounter seems so much like a movie, but the movie came from reality. I doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it, but it didn’t move me the way it seems to have moved others (however, I think I may not be easily moved. That is what I am finding). There are lots of tales to tell about the Taj, but I think I will let you look those up yourselves and will just let the pictures speak for themselves.

Just a few things—I am almost 100% sure I saw a Western couple about 2.2 seconds after they got enaged. They couldn’t stop hugging and the huggest smiles on their faces. Unlike, France, where couples are liplocked, and Italy where all, men and women alike, are walking arm in arm, India you just don’t see couples embracing and smooching in the streets. It was a bit shocking b/c I was not used to it. By the way, why would you get engaged there? Even though it is the most infamous monument to love, it is so impersonal and actually not very romantic at all. I can think of about 10 places I have been to in India that are more romantic and that is before I even have visited Kerala! Just my opinion.

Funny thing going on at the Taj-- besides the professional photographers who take pictures of you and then print the pictures for you to buy after you leave, there are also these makeshift photographers who take your camera for you and start a photo shoot. It is white hilarious. They direct you to move to this spot or that. To look this way and that. First, into the reflecting pool, and then into the flowers. Lift your head, move your arm, come closer, smile bigger. Hahaha. Well, I was alone, so I didn’t mind. And now, like it or not, I have about 30 pictures of me with the Taj. Hahahaha

Here is a smattering:

Before going to the Taj I also went to Fatehpur Sikri, which is an old Mughal capital that is about an hour from the Taj. It was really beautiful, but the pictures don’t seem to convey that. There is a huge mosque there too with a tomb of Sheikh Salim Chisti, a Sufi saint who predicted the birth of a son to the Emperor Akbar (previously mentioned in Rajasthan update).

Here are some photos of that.

Varanasi
13-14 March

On the evening of the 12th of March I took an overnight train to my next destination, Varanasi. When I got on the train in the “Sleeper” section a few people directed me to the “AC” section. You see, they saw I was a whitey (we really love using this word and try to as often as possible. I am so sad to think about when I leave India and won’t have the opportunity to make use of it anymore!). And whities go to the AC section of the train. I smiled at this and told them I was okay and was in this car. One of the men in the section where I was sitting asked me if I would do a favor for him. He was travelling with his niece, but her seat was in a different car. He couldn’t let her stay there alone (she was young) so she was going to stay in the area where we all were (and therefore would be taking up space too). Would I mind switching seats with her? Not at all I told him as long as he carried my bag to the next car (haha). We went to the other car, but the seat where she was supposed to be was in the first section by the toilet (yuck!) and where there were only men. I told him no. He would need to find me another seat. Over the next few minutes he searched for another available seat and somehow befriended this other man, who seemed to work for the trains, but in fact didn’t. Not sure how that man got involved, but, hey, this is India. They found me one place to sit. I befriended this tiny tot sitting across from me by making funny faces at him. He thought I was just about the most hysterical thing on the planet and screamed in delight (now I can here some of my friends making fun right now, saying it was probably more like in fear. Trust me, he loved me). But I didn’t get to sit there for more than about 15 minutes because then the real train man came. Okay, I forgot to add that the original man I was helping was still standing there. I made him wait until the conductor came by b/c I did not know how to explain this situation. The conductor is the one who really deals with these situations. Actually, if you spend any time on some crowded trains you see so much walking back and forth of the conductor you will go dizzy! You wonder what it is that he is doing. Well, apparently he is exerting his authority as the decider of fates, decider of seats for those without reservations. Mostly, just getting paid off and giving the best seats to those who pay the most. Anyway, he found me a different seat, so I had to leave the cutie pie little boy (it was okay though b/c something weird was going on with his parents. She looked about 16 and was crying and he was significantly older and seemingly trying to make up for something).

I then moved to a section with a bunch of other foreigners, including a French couple and 5 Israelis. Fun to have something in common with both—speaking French (not well, I admit) and being Jewish. Hehehe. Anyway, I wound up seeing them in Varanasi again quite a few times and that was nice.

Varanasi is an old place…a very old place. Mark Twain wrote, “Older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together.” It is a Hindu city famous as a pilgrimage site to worship on the banks of the great and cleansing Ganges. Worshippers go there and perform pujas, bath, take part in artis each night and cleanse to pray to the gods and cleanse the soul. Each and every morning thousands flock there (and that is not even during the high season) as well as tons of tourists to gawk at their rituals. Well, I was one of those tourists, and I woke up at about 5 am to go see the sunrise over the Ganga (how it is known here) and observe the believers during one of their holiest moments.

I was a bit nervous to go b/c everyone made me hyper about the touts and the crowds and the harranguing that takes place. Many warned me to stay for a short time, that people get annoyed there, sick there, it is dirty there… I was on my guard, but actually felt that it was not bad. Yes, there are little boys selling post cards and many boat rowers trying to hawk their services, but what else to expect. The gulleys, the small, windy, mediaval like streets are dirty and crowded with cows, but they are facinating. Each turn reveals another linked alley that has existed since Time and Memoriam (or if you prefer, the year gimmel). A temple turns up on eer corner and, of course, a sweet shop existing for the sole purpose of selling sweets to worshippers as offers in the adjacent temple.

Then there is the river. Where I was staying, a guesthouse where two other Fulbrighters live, had a rooftop with a view of the river. But it is down on the ground where you get the best feel of the river and its magic. Along the main road leading to the main Ghat (the steps leading into the river), there is stand after stand selling beads, coins, incense and flowers to use in ceremonies and leave in the river. There are small pictures and plaques running the gamut of the gods-- Lord Shiva, Lord, Vishnu, Laxshmi, and then, the one I was looking for, Ganga, sitting on a lotus on a crocodile—the goddess of the river, from which stems all of the water on the earth. She sprouted from the head of Shiva, who was acting as a sieve, stemming the too powerful flow of water that would have destroyed the earth if not for his protection.

When you get down to its waters you see a hotbed of activity-- but you really must get there in the morning. As I mentioned, you can see worshippers employing priests to perform rituals, covering their eyes, breaking coconuts, lighting candles and incense. You can see bathers, cleansing themselves of sins (if not of dirt, though there were plenty attempting to do that—but the water is quite filthy. I almost gagged when I saw a man brushing his teeth with it. Why bother?). The dhobis, clothes cleaners--standing thigh high in the water, rythmically lifting their arms over their heads and back down again in front of them in a circular motion, beating the clothes time and again, to rid them of dirt. If you raise your eyes a bit toward the land you will see all of the already-washed clothes lying flat on the ground soaking in the rays of the sun. It was quite humorous to see tens of large light blue squares, the bed linens from a hotel, dotting the side of the riverbank. (Hmm, how clean are these clothes?—washed in the Ganges and then left lying on the ground to dry?? You tell me.)

You will also see the smoke, coming up from the burning ghats, where people are cremated and then have their skulls cracks if the fire didn’t already do it) to release their souls. From far away you can see the stacks and stacks and stacks of firewood, piled high into the sky.

The thing about Varanasi is that it is an old place, and it is a spiritual place. A friend here in Bangalore asked me if I felt that the city was from a totally different era. It was an interesting question for me. I know, as I mentioned that it is old, but I feel like all of India feels like a mix of eras all occurring in the same time and place. I am not sure that I felt Varanasi was more special in that way. Of course it felt like an old city, especially because of the gullies, which gave it a very distinctive old city feel, but I didn’t feel like I was entering a different world in terms of time. Then there is the spirituality aspect. Well, I am not very spiritual, but I have to admit that the place had a certain mystical quality. One afternoon, I was strolling along the ghats and sat down to listen to a man playing the flute. He was an old man with white hair and thick, coke bottle glasses. His music was magical and so calming. When he finished I thanked him and he said he comes everyday. Shanti, shanti. Shanti means peace. Very true—it was so peaceful. That is something that is remarkable about the place. To have the chaos, and to have the peace.

Peace

Chaos

I also attended an arti at night. It happens every day. Five, identical looking young priests picked up and moved around different objects in circular motion for an hour while an older priest sang and chanted. Then everyone went down to the river to place flowers and candles and make wishes. Before I left for India, my doctor told me, “Don’t even put your one pinky toe into the Ganges.” Well, I didn’t listen to her (sorry mom!), but I did put the tips of my fingers in it purposely. How could I not? I am at the holiest spot of the holiest river—I couldn’t resist. I survived so I guess it was okay.

This is just about the funniest thing I have seen in India

After only 2 days in Varanasi I moved on to my last destination of the trip…

Calcutta
15-17 March

Calcutta has a certain image—one of poverty and disease, lepers and suffering. Mother Teresa and City of Joy are to thank for this image. But I have to say, as the guidebooks also indicate, I think it is a bit blown out of proportion. Though there are many reasons why Calcutta does have so many suffering souls and there are people who are poor and ill there, I really wonder if it is less than in the slums of Bombay. I do think I saw more people actively living on the streets than in other cities. Maybe in other cities it is more confined to certain areas and I haven’t been in those aread as much. But I also think I noticed some of these people because they were just really living. Obviously, they were poor but it wasn’t like they were so destitute. It was more like their home was just a certain part of the sidewalk. There were family units making lunch and dinner alongside their neighbors who were part of their community. It was an unusual feeling to describe. I am not trying to say that it wouldn’t be better for them to have a house. I am not saying that at all. It is just that they didn’t portray the image that you have of someone living on the street. The kids were running around playing and the adults were smiling a lot and even at me, not even trying to get some money from me—just being friendly.

Streetlife

Anyway, I found the city quite pleasant. I stayed in dorm type room so that I could meet people and wound up befriending a Swiss girl. I think met a friend of a friend of hers who is originally from Darjeeling, but lives in France now. I also met a bunch of people in one of the two restaurants that seem obligatory for backpackers to frequent. I even gathered a mish mosh group of 6 together to go see the sound and light show at the Victorial Memorial one night (pretty funny. In fact, one of the guys was this guy who I met for about 5 minutes in Bangalore one night about a month before. He is travelling in Asia for a long time and just happened to be in one of the above-mentioned restaurants when I was. Hehe.)

In addition to the Victoria Memorial (which I visited during the daytime as well), I also went to the Indian Museum—quite a great place for old Indian sculpture and carvings. I would definitely recommend it to anyone going, a modern art museum, the cathedral and on a very long afternoon tour with a Bengali named Surjo. Thanks Surjo! He took me all around the city and I got to see the Writer’s Building as well as other structures built during the days of the Raj (all over Calcutta). He mentioned that there was a synagogue in Calcutta so we went to go see it. The man watching it told me that I could only go in if I got permission from one man (I guess he is the head of the meagre, 600 person Jewish community in Calcutta). He owns a bakery and we would have had to go all the way to another part of Calcutta for approval. I asked if we could call him. After putting me on the phone, and me telling him I was Jewish, he promptly gave me access to the synagogues (actually, there are 2). Gotta love being a MOTT. They were really quite lovely and it felt wonderful to visit these old places of worship. Later we went to his bakery so I could thank him, but he had left for the day. Too bad. By the way, the bakery had yummy fudge and chocolate tarts. Leffs-the chocolate was like the center part of a chocolate meltaway. I was eating it thinking it was so familiar and then—it came to me! I got a little nostalgic for home.

Ashoka, former ruler of India, Lions (on all govt. stuff)

Cathedral

Synagogue

Victoria Memorial

One of the main reasons you will see many backpackers in Calcutta is because of Mother Teresa. People from all countries (and at my hostel almost entirely Japan) come to volunteer for days or weeks at one of her 4 places, each of which serves a different community. When I found out that you could go for even only a half of a day (I was only in Calcutta for not even 3 days), I decided to go. I went with my Swiss friend, Susan to the pain place where you get breakfast and then find out where you are assigned to go. We went with this group of Japanese guys to the one by the Kali temple (more about that in a minute).

There are two sections—one where the men are and one where the women are. Everyone’s hair is cute short for health reasons and the women are so skinny that it does not make you feel very happy to see emaciated, crew cut haired women lying in rows of cots. You can imagine the image. Well, we fed them and bathed some and talked to them (though I most certainly don’t know Bengali and they most certainly don’t know English) and rubbed their arms and legs with oil to help ease any pains. One woman was so grateful that she took my head in her hands and then brought my forehead to her mouth so she could kiss it. It was such a wonderful moment. I felt so blessed to be healthy and happy and to be able to give even a few minutes of joy or at least ease to this old woman. I can’t even imagine the horrible stories that these women would have to tell. Maybe it is good I don’t know their language.

Though I was glad to be able to help, I don’t really like the set up of the place. There is no system to determine how severe different people’s situations were. That is, there might be some who just needed to be there for a few days and others who were on the verge of death. It seemed like it would be relatively easy for some to get “stuck” there, lying in the beds and eventually atrophying their muscles to that it becomes difficult to move. Now, granted, I really don’t know how it works so I could be totally wrong. However, there was this German woman there who had been for weeks and she said that she was the only one who made them get up and walk around.

My other commentary on the whole volunteering at Mother Teresa’s thing is that I find it a bit annoying. Why do all these people from all over the world come only here to volunteer. Aren’t there poor, suffering people in Bombay? In Johannesburg? In Mexico City? Or even in these people’s own country? I know that the set up with MT’s is very easy and I certainly don’t begrudge anyone for trying to help out another person, but I almost found it a bit self-indulgent (just as it was for me) and a bit restricted to a certain time and a certain place. Okay, enough of my two cents.

After leaving MT’s place I went to the Kali temple right nearby. Kali is the goddess of death and she is a fearsome one at that! If you have ever seen a goddess with stringy, wild black hair coming out from all over her head, with a necklace of skulls, a toungue protruding from her maniacal face and dripping with blood then you have seen Kali. She is the main god worshipped in Calcutta and the frenetic chaos of the Kali temple proves it. They still practice animal sacrifice—poor goats—here. Didn’t see it, but did see the goats. We also saw a small marriage take place and a ceremony to bless a baby amidst the frenzied atmosphere. By the way, they also love Durga here. She is a very powerful goddess who I decided I like a lot.

I had to leave very early for the airport to catch my flight. It was difficult to get up so early, but I got a wonderful site rewarding me for my pain. Before the human rickshaws (I forgot to mention that this is one of the last places, if not the last, that has human rickshaws), were out, before anyone was really up, I saw a long, long row of this round, flat-bottomed baskets filled with little chicks. There was just one after the other after the other. It was still dark, but the light was just coming out, leaving a blue/purple sky. In this light I could see the thousands of chicks, waiting to be sold. It was incredible.

By the way, on the way into Calcutta on the train you will see lush greenery--I was surprised. At one of the stops before we arrived I also saw this...dung patties drying in the sun.

And then, I made my way back to Bangalore…and slept.

Rajasthan

25 Feb-8 Mar 2004

RAJASTHAN

I have been putting off writing about my travels because there is so much to tell and I knew it would take quite some time. I decided to break it down so it didn’t feel so daunting. I will write about the first part of the trip here—Rajasthan. ---Just a sidenote-my digital camera stopped working in the middle of the trip so some of the photos here are scans of regular photos (also because some of the photos are from my Mitali’s bunch). The shop that does it doesn’t do such a great job so I hope they come out okay on the website)

As I mentioned, I went with my roommates, Lizzy and Mitali, up north to visit the “Land of Princes.” Rajasthan is in the northwest of India and borders Pakistan. Each city seems to have been the seat of power at one point or another of one of the different kingdoms. Maharajas of the Marwars, the Mewars (do they have to have names that are so similar?) and the like ruled this land and made it famous for its romantic history filled with battles, beauties, jewels and jauhar (mass suicide as a form of “death before dishonor”). All of the intrigue occurring in the midst of forts, palaces and the dry lands of the region (including the Thar Desert). Rajasthan is also one of the most colorful areas in India with hot pink turbans (who said real men don’t wear pink?), bright red tie-dyed dupattas and a rainbow of colorful sarees adorning the people with chiseled faces, bejeweled bodies and beautiful smiles. It is also a treasure chest of crafts galore including puppets, silver enamel painted jewelry, bangles, antique wooden decorated boxes and the famous Indian miniature painting. We managed to see all of the above --and then some.

Rajasthani Puppets

Udaipur

First we went to Udaipur, which is famous for its beautiful Lake Palace (now a Taj Hotel). It is also known for the James Bond film, “Octopussy,” which was filmed there. Every other restaurant (which cater to backpackers) has a showing of the film each night. I didn’t get to catch it though, so I will have to re-watch some other time.

It is also known for Indian miniatures, which abound from every corner. Miniatures are those very detailed paintings that are often thought of from the Mughal times in India, but there are actually many different schools. They originated as illustrations of texts so the very, very old ones are found on long, very narrow scrolls. I am not that familiar with the styles or their history so can’t really give any more detail. I do know that you can find many with Hindu themes as well, including love scenes with Krishna and Radha. The maharajas had court artists who painted court scenes, hunting scenes, religious scenes and portraits. I even got one artist to paint a Ganesh (my favorite god—although I am also loving Durga these days) on my fingernail. Here he is painting:

Here is the masterpiece:

On the first day we were there, after going to the City Palace, shopping a little, getting calling cards made (what?! Why we had to do that there when we could have had them done for the past 3 months in Bangalore is a mystery. We were making fun of ourselves immensely for that. My only excuse is that the place where we were staying, besides being a hotel and a studio for the owner (a painter of miniatures), made silk-bound journals using old sarees for the covers and hand made paper for the contents. We used this paper for our cards.), and going to a folk art museum, we took a late afternoon boat ride to a palace on one of the islands on the lake (not the Lake Palace, but another one). As we got on the boat we noticed this woman with cool shoes and a cool shawl boarding another boat. I got a look at her face and was stunned because she was so beautiful. I turned to this guide sitting behind me and said, “Isn’t she beautiful?” He replied that she was Raveena Tundar. What luck! We had been told that we were a few days late for a famous wedding that occurred in Udaipur. Raveena Tundar is an actress in India and she was the bride. She must have stayed some extra days to relax and we coincidently were going out on the lake at the same time as her. A star sighting—very exciting. Here are some photos from that trip to that island.

The roommies

The city palace at night

As mentioned, the Lake Palace is a famous locale in Udaipur. Here is a photo of it from our room.

We went there on our last night in Udaipur for the fancy all-you-can-eat buffet. It was pricey, but a hell of a lot cheaper then staying there, and we figured we would splurge. Well, I am sure that the people working there thought we hadn’t eaten for a week and were not planning to eat for a week after that. Let’s just say that we got our money’s worth. Hahaha. Here is a photo of us, but it was supposed show all of the plates we had (including the extra bowl of olives, ice cream, bread, grated cheese, whipped cream, sauce—okay, okay, I am slightly exaggerating) asked for.

We decided that Mitali has to get married there so that we can come back to India for sure and get to stay at the Lake Palace. Hehehe. The only problem is that they can really only accommodate an event of 100 people-- just not going to happen for an Indian wedding. Shoot! I haven’t given up hope for Mitali yet though. I said she can have one of the sixty events leading up to the wedding there (by the way, did I tell you that Mitali is not engaged? Doesn’t even have a beau—this is all just fantasy). We got a tour from the guy who runs the hotel. Guess what? He is another Guju (that is Gujarati—someone from Gujarat, one of the states in India (In fact, where Gandhi is from)), like Mitali. So, in keeping with our daydream, we decided she should just marry him. Hahaha. We couldn’t help it; the place is just so beautiful and romantic. I highly suggest it for any couple looking for somewhere to stay.

So, after our tour from Mitali’s future husband, we headed back to our hotel for the night. The problem was that it was late. You have to take a boat to the Lake Palace and back. It docks you by the City Palace. Most of the City Palace is a museum now (which we saw on our first day—a photo or two to follow), but part of it is still the residence of the current maharaja. He no longer holds the power he once did, but still the title, respect, and, at least a portion of, the wealth. Once we got off the boat we were informed that there were no autos around the docking point, but if we walked down the road to the gate of the palace grounds there might be one. After doing as told, we came across the watchmen who told us there weren’t any there either. However, we could walk the other way, through the gardens of the palace to the other gate and then walk to our hotel (it really wasn’t too far so we didn’t think this whole thing was a big deal). Well, after a minute or two of strolling through the garden area, the watchmen comes running to us because he realized that the gate he directed us to would be closed. So, he took us to another gate, which was in the area of the palace that is the private home of the maharaja. So, here we are, 3 tourists, at about 1 in the morning, with no one else around (except for the watchmen) with the whole palace grounds (and the private ones at that) to ourselves. How random! You would never have been able to get near a place like that in the US or Europe. Hahaha. We then got directed to the huge main gate of the whole palace grounds. This is one of those 40 foot tall wooden doors that is about 1 ½ feet thick with spikes on one side that were used at one time to keep elephants, mounted by armies, from breaking into the fortified palace. It seems closed, locked, shackled and as if nothing is penetrating that puppy, when all of a sudden a small, 3 by 2 foot panel, which is like a doggie door, but raised off of the ground, opens. How hilarious!!! I am not sure if you are getting this picture, but we had to climb through this door to get out of the palace grounds and on to the street. It was incredibly surreal. The whole thing was quite a little adventure—very Rajasthani style!

Here are some photos of Udaipur and the City Palace

Those journals I mentioned--sold everywhere!

Me kissing the most famous Bollywood actor, Shah Rukh Khan (plastered on the inside of an autorickshaw)

Another night in Udaipur we went to a haveli, an old mansion type thing where extended family’s lived, to see some “traditional” dancing, music and puppeteering. There was this one crazy lady who danced around with 10 pots on her head and walked on glass and swords. Here you can see her walking on glass, but she only has 3 pots on her head so far.

Chittaugarh

Udaipur is a good place to base yourself for some day trips in the area. We went to another town a few hours away called Chittaugarh. This place is famous for its fort, which served as the capital of the Mewars before being shifted to Udaipur. The Rajputs were known for their chivalry, code of honor and their resistance against the Mughals before the Mughal Ruler Akbar strategically brought them into the fold by marrying a Hindu princess (among other things). Three mass suicides (jauhars) were committed here by the Rajput women who would rather throw themselves onto the pyres than surrender to the enemy. The Rajput men then rode on their horses into battle and certain death. When visiting these places you hear tale after tale of loyalty and sacrifice. One famous one is about how a Mughal ruler wanted to see a beautiful Rajput queen. The king devised a plan where the Mughal could see her reflection in a mirror from across the lake. The Mughal then kidnapped the king and demanded the queen come live with him. She then devised a plan where she agreed, but brought with her thousands of warriors dressed as maidservants who then threw off their guises once reaching the Mughals. The king was rescued, but the large number of casualties led to the eventual Rajput defeat. Some photos of the place:

Me with Victory Tower

Detail

Sri Nathji

Another day trip we took was to go to a sacred temple in Nathdwara dedicated to Krishna (also called Nath), the 8th (I think) incarnation of Vishnu, the Preserver. Krishna is blue and often seen playing a bansuri (flute). As I mentioned before, he is associated with Radha in love scene after love scene and was known for being sort of a playboy. At this temple, the Sri Nathji temple, there is a constant influx of pilgrims, particularly Gujaratis. There is worship 8 times a day when the image of Sri Nathji is woken, dressed, washed, fed and put to bed. We made it there for the last, and most elaborate aarti—prayer session.

Well, I would have about given my right arm for a camera, or, better yet, a video camera to capture this scene. First you have to wait outside of the temple entrance. There is a hierarchy of waiting points, essentially depending on how much money you paid someone to get better positioning. We got to the second tier by paying a “guide,” but then begged our way into the top tier spot and pretty much climbed over all the others in our level who didn’t manage to make it up the ladder. This is something that is really so different about how things work in India versus the US. In the US there is a strong belief in waiting your turn in line. If you were someplace where a lot of people were waiting for something, first of all, there would be a line. Second of all, if anyone attempted to cut that line, everyone would balk and comment and tell the guy to “wait your turn in line.” Not so in India. Besides the fact that there rarely are lines, it is sort of like—work it if you can, and, if you can, all the better for you. Nobody said anything to us or gave us a dirty look because we were cutting them, no siree, no one even flinched.

So, back to the temple--basically, there are hundreds of people waiting to get into this rather small space, with an even smaller opening from which to view the idol. The have traveled for hours or even days to get to see it for just a few moments--and they ain’t going to let that time go to waste. You know how there is usually a certain image of an old lady? You know, usually one is called “little, old lady” because she is supposed to be sweet and kind and gentle? Well, these ladies might have been little, but they sure weren’t sweet and kind and DEFINITELY not gentle. They were pushing and shoving, clawing and climbing to get their peek. The women and the men are separated, with the women having the space closer to the idol. We got to go in first and then there was a rapid rush of people. It was madness. I have to tell you that it was much more interesting to me to look back and see the sea of bodies peering, stretching, jumping to see the idol. It was unbelievable. Lizzy, Mitali and I were laughing at the craziness, not in a disrespectful way, but more in awe at the intensity of the situation. Like I said, I wish I had had a camera.

Here are some of the trinkets of Sri Nathji they sell in the town for people to keep on their personal shrines at home

We also got to see these temple ruins in Nagda (there was a French tour group and the guide said something about us being Americans in French. Lizzy and I were laughing and replied in French that they should not say anything bad about us because we would understood what they said) and another temple complex with hundreds of small temples within it at Elkinji. Unfortunately, I don’t have any photos to share.

Ranekpur

On our way to Jodhpur, the next major city in Rajasthan on our tour, we stopped in Ranekpur, the sight of a famous Jain temple. The Jains are similar to Hindus in that they share respect for nature and non-violence. They are a bit more strict in their regard for life as the very religious wear medical masks to keep from inhaling any insects and they don’t eat onions or garlic, presumably to avoid killing worms and insects in the ground (but I am not sure if that is the real reason). Their temples are ornately carved structures and, though I am not sure if this is always the case, are white. The temple here is the largest of its kind in India and is famous for being amazingly beautiful and it is incredibly peaceful as well.

Some photos:

Jodhpur

Our next destination was, Jodhpur, the former capital of the state of Marwar (Land of Death), but now known as the “Blue City,” so called because all of the buildings are painted a beautiful shade of blue (the paint is mixed with silver agate (or some other mineral) to keep termites away). The main attraction here is the Meherangarh Fort. With its brand new, state-of-the-art audio tour, one can spend hours learning about life during the time when battles were fought for land, power and honor. There is one spot where there are the handprints of the 20 odd widows of Maharaja Man Singh who all committed sati (sacrificial suicide when a widow throws herself on her husband’s funeral pyre) when he died, though it was already illegal. We got to see Indian miniatures painted by the court artists; tents, swords, guns, knives, and armor used during battle; howdahs (the seat placed on an elephant for riding on it) and carriages; jewelry, and all other adornments (if you ever go, you simply must listen to the description of the women’s box which held her toiletries and rituals she performed, which made her “ready for love”—it is really hilarious), and rooms decorated with stained glass, mirrors, paintings, and carvings. One of the other special aspects is the latticed balcony windows, which the women in particular, used for looking out into the courtyard. Purdah, or the practice of keeping women covered or out of sight, was practiced. These types of windows were constructed such that the women could look out, but no one could look in and see them.

Here is the Blue City from the Fort

Women working

Here are some photos of the fort:

At night from our hotel

One of the funniest things (besides the description of the women preparing themselves for the men, mentioned above) was an interaction we had with some of the turbaned guards (by the way, I am a big fan of the turban!). During the audio tour they told about the use of opium and such, but little did I know how some behaviors have continued to this day. Two of the guards seemed particularly happy. They were chatting with us and then pulled out a film container. They showed us what was the cause of their joy—yep, you guessed it—opium. They told us it made them feel strong and smiled. We were dying laughing from our shock. And here is a photo of the two with me:

Though we didn’t do much else in Jodhpur, we did manage to shop a bit (of course). I just love this photo. It truly captures us in the thick of it—sitting on piles of dupattas.

Jaisalmer

We were supposed to take an overnight train to Jaisalmer, but I had a horrible headache (I am getting old and guess I can’t take the heat like I used to), so we took a bus the following day. Here is where I would like to add how I managed to change every single, solitary train ticket that I made during the trip. Granted, that often happens when you make them in advance (most I made in Bangalore), but even this one we changed and we had just bought it that very day! Hahaha. Just goes with the territory, but funny nonetheless.

Jaisalmer is the “Golden City” because all of the buildings and the fort are made of sandstone. It is particularly lovely when the light of the setting sun shines on the fort and casts a distinctive golden hue over everything. The main purpose for our going all the way west (less than 100 kilometers from the border with Pakistan) to this fort town was to take a camel safari into the Thar Desert. During our inquiries we got to meet the former Mr. Rajasthan himself. Back in the day, he won a contest proclaiming THE man of Rajasthan for four consecutive years. He was then seen on cigarette ads and the like. He was the Marlboro man of India. And here you have him—both past and present:

We then went to watch the sun setting over Jaisalmer. This place used to be a crematorium for Brahmans (lovely), but it made for some good shots.

And then we headed out the next morning on our camel safari. We first drove for an hour in a jeep to a camp to have breakfast and then mounted our camels. We set out on our trek through the desert.

The desert is not what you would imagine. The rolling dunes that leap from the images in your mind are not that prominent in the Thar Desert. For most of the first day I was waiting, watching, looking out for those dunes. Instead, it was flat and dry and filled with ragged shrubbery. There were 5 of us (Lizzy, Mitali and I and then an American couple) and three guides. One of the guides, Ali, was the main guide who could speak English. He was truly hilarious and we loved him. He was a philosopher at heart and had many wise words. One of our favorites, which he would reiterate time and again-“Life is life.” It was the answer to everything. Also, there was “Life is like the wind.” He had more, but I can’t remember them all now. He could speak about 7 or so languages, including English, some French and some German, but could not read or write (well, maybe only a very little). He made our meals, our chai, told stories, was our resident comedian, cared for the camels, knew the way through the desert and just your all around jack-of-all trades. We were so lucky we had him. And here he is:

ALI

We each had a camel—mine’s name was something long that started with Kali. So, I nicknamed him Cali. So sad, but Cali was missing half of his nose (well really the flesh over one side) because he had been shot!! He had been apparently used to smuggle things over the border to Pakistan and was shot by the border patrol. How sad! He had nothing to do with it. I felt so badly for him. But, he seemed to be okay, so I guess that is good. Besides our camels and a constant canine companion, Tiger, we got to see many sheep (white with black heads) and goats (black), which were adorable. The local people who live in the desert are mostly herders. When we were making lunch a whole bunch of men came over to just chill and hang out. Some came over for any extra food we had, but mostly they came just to “timepass.” This is a magnificent phrase used in India. It is basically “killing time”—did I ever mention this before b/c it is sounding familiar? Some photos:

Like I said, who said real men don't wear pink

The cool thing about going straight through the desert is that you get into the rhythm—the rhythm of sort of nothing. You would think in a way that you might get bored, but really I guess it is hypnotic in a way. Here are some more of us on the camels and walking through the desert

We finally did reach some dunes (as had been promised). Obviously, I made sure to capture them on film!

The best part about the camel safari (as anyone will tell you) is sleeping under the stars. It is truly enchanting. It is so remarkable that you don’t even want to sleep. While we were sitting on the dunes and looking up at the constellations I thought about that song by Neil Diamond (I know-random). I can’t remember the name, but he lists all these famous people across the ages and then says that the one thing they share is looking at the same sun and the same moon (and wept when it was done…for being done too soon…for being done too soon). How incredible to think about time and place like that?

The next day we went to another camp after traveling all morning. At lunchtime I realized I was getting sick and was not too happy during the jeep ride back to Jaisalmer. We even had to stop on the way. Boo!

By the way, the people who were on our trip have a website and were supposed to put pictures on it of the trip. Here is the address: http://www.00ff00.com/photographs.html

Pushkar

After taking an overnight train from Jaisalmer back to Jodhpur, we hired a car to drive us to Pushkar for the afternoon and then on to Jaipur. Pushkar is a town that has three lakes in the middle of the desert. The lakes were supposedly formed when Brahma, the Creator, dropped his lotus flower to earth to kill a demon. He then gathered 900,000 gods—the entire Hindu pantheon (according to my guidebook) for a huge meeting. Because of this, and because its water is believed to cleanse the soul of impurities during a certain time of year, it is a major pilgrimage site for Hindus. It is also notable because it has the only temple to Brahma, the Creator, in India (In fact, I think there is only one other Brahma temple in one of the neighboring countries). And finally it is famous for the Camel Festival that takes place here in November every year (see Meg’s site) when thousands come to sell and buy livestock and have turban tying contests and the like. Unfortunately, I never made it to that.

It is really a strange place though because it is also a major destination on the backpacker circuit. So, basically you walk down the street to find signs in Hebrew catering to the huge Israeli contingent, imported chocolate bars in every side stall, and booth after booth selling loose, hippy-esque pants and shirts (the official gear of the backpacker). The pilgrims weren’t there b/c it wasn’t the right time of year, but we imagined that the vendors change over their wares pretty quickly when the backpacker season converts over to the pilgrim season.

Brahma Temple

Sadhu

Lake

Performers (father and daughter)

Jaipur for Holi

Part of the whole reason for our trip was to head north for Holi. It is a spring festival where people throw colored powder and water on each other and run around like crazy. I guess it is sort of paintball times a million. It is celebrated more in the north of India so we thought it would be best to be in the right place for the festival.

It wound up that several other Fulbrighters and friends were going to Jaipur for Holi. We originally were going to go to Delhi, but changed our plans because we thought that Jaipur would be more festive with more people we knew. Our first day there was an elephant festival at a stadium. We weren’t sure if the events were originally for Indians, but then became infested by tourists (and therefore catered to tourists) or if they were originally planned for tourists. There was an elephant parade, and elephant decoration contents, dancing, singing, elephant polo (that is a first) and an elephant tug-o-war. Really, the pictures speak for themselves:

Elephant Parade

Who can resist a baby elephant? The last time I saw one was 2 years ago on Easter at the National Zoo in DC

Rajasthanis villagers

We then went to the City Palace to watch a bonfire that was used to light torches that were, in turn, used to light smaller bonfires across the city. We even got to see the Maharaja.

The next day we “played Holi,” which is when you throw the powder on each other. Again, the pictures speak for themselves.

After under 2 weeks in Rajasthan, we headed into Delhi. And that, my friends, will have to wait until my next posting (don’t worry—I am going to try and do it in the next few days).

Fulbright Conference plus some

8-24 February

Before I begin, I noticed that my photos don’t seem to be of the same quality as they were. I had some problems with computer and couldn’t open any of my photo reader software and had to save it through Internet Explorer. Hope they don’t look too bad.

8-12 February

FULBRIGHT CONFERENCE IN GOA

We had the opportunity to go back to Goa (and a different area there) for the Mid-Year Fulbright Conference. It wasn’t quite my mid point because I arrived later, but there were even people who had just arrived in India.

The Hotel Lobby

The pool and view of sea

At first I was not really in the mood to go because I had only been back in Bangalore for a bit and felt I wanted more time to build momentum and get some things accomplished. However, once I arrived there I was grateful for the opportunity to meet other Fulbrighters staying all over India. There is such a broad range of interests, ages, and backgrounds among the Fulbrighters. The group includes recent college grads all the way to veteran professors who are near or even in retirement (and everything in between). It is refreshing to meet people with such an enthusiasm for partaking in diverse experiences throughout the course of their lives. Many have also come with their families and delighted in exposing their children to other ways of living. I was especially impressed with the older individuals who were coming to India for the first time as it would probably be easier to just stay in an environment more comfortable to them.

The Fulbright group encompasses those who are focused on topics particular to South Asia and and those who came to learn more about the region, its issues and its wonders. A sampling of the abstracts of people’s projects reveals anything from the study of medieval Tamil Shaivite devotional poetry (If you are wondering what this means, have no fear--I didn’t know what the heck this was either before I got there. Very basic--it is poetry by the devout in Tamil Nadu (the state next to mine, which is along the southeast coast of India, and, hence, in the language ‘Tamil’) specifically related to the worship of the god Shiva (the Destroyer) written in medieval times. I am sure there is much more to it, but I think that is the general explanation. *Gardner—did I get that right?) to photographic imagery in the history of Indian women to psychopharmacology in a developing nation and health system to non-violence and Gandhianism to Aids and performance in South India to conservation of Indian miniature painting to filmaking in Bombay to the role of woman in the IT industry in India to Bhangra music in Punjab to, the one that got applause from the whole crowd, particle physics and using metaphor (I can’t actually remember the exact title for this, but I can assure you no one knew what this woman was talking about and ALL were impressed). So you had health, science, the arts, including dance, fine arts and modern art (we even saw som video of performance art or event staging), archeology, architecture, religion, literature, engineering, business, law, education, women’s issues, development and obviously I have said enough about this…I think you get my drift.

Some fellow Fulbrighters (the older crowd-hehe-29 and 30), Sandhya, Gardner and me

Staying up late talking about the program

It was a particularly interesting experience for me because I was one of the few people who had both never been to India before and also not studied about India or South Asia (that is, I was not an “India person” as I, not so articulately, call it). I have experienced this sort of feeling before because most of the foreigners I meet her are in the “India person” category. I was thinking how perhaps this could make me a bit self-conscious, that I don’t fit in or am a bit behind in my knowledge and understanding of this complex place. But it doesn’t. Instead, it makes me appreciate the fact that I am here despite those things. It makes me realize how many interesting experiences I have had that many of the others haven’t gotten the chance to have. And it made me feel sastisfied in what I have done—that is, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Now, I am sure that the others feel the same way about their own experiences. They probably don’t care that they haven’t had the chance to live in Europe or work at the Pentagon (or whatever else it is) because their focus is here. But once again it proves that I am a true generalist at heart. Jack of all trades…Master of none. Haha.

One other thing that I noted was how interesting so many people are. I mean, they weren’t so easily categorized. For example, there was this one guy getting his PhD whose official topic title was “Regionalism and Nationalism in Modern Maharashtra,” but he really was a magician (he did a show for us and was fabulous!). There was also a girl who I became friends with who just quit her job with Boston Consulting Group to come here and do research on dance sculptures and paintings in temples in Tamil Nadu. She also was contining to dance a traditional form of Indian dance called Bharata Natyam. And those are just two examples. I guess we are just used to saying this person does job “x” or is type of person “y” and then stereotyping him or her based on those categories. How nice to see that that is not always true.

Funny thing—the first day we were introducing ourselves (all 100 or so of us) and there were 3 Elizabeths (including me) all in a row and all of whom applied ‘at-large,’ meaning not through a university. Pretty random.

Well, the conference was good, but I have to admit that I did play hooky (sp?) from some of the sessions. How could you not? The beach and the sun and the ocean with its ceasless waves lapping the shores were calling. And I can’t forget “The Shack” (hey Shack, like that name??) just down the beach from our hotel that was a little, tiny place with only a thatched roof that served the most delicious fresh fish—caught by fisherman whose tiny, battered boats were lying on the shore beside the place. I went there with another Fulbrighter (the Tamil devotional poetry guy, mentioned above) during our lunch break, but we just could not bear to go back into the small, dark, musty, windowless room where the conference sessions were taking place. So instead, we acted like Goans- took it easy and enjoyed the peaceful view (while drinking Goan port wine—kind of reminded me of Maneschewitz for all of you Passover celebraters out there). It wasn’t long before others who had the same idea came along and joined us on my veranda overlooking the beach (somehow I scored big time with a room essentially on the beach. The only others who had rooms in that part of the resort were the professors. Lucky me.).

A photo of the sunset from my room.

On my veranda

The second night of the conference we watched performances by the Fulbrighters—puppeteer (you don’t meet one of those everyday, do you?), dancers, and magician. I got to learn what some of the movements in the dance numbers mean. Often they are a story of the gods that most likely many Indians know. However, I would have been oblivious to the references. Here are some photos.

The last night of the conference we had a special treat. The State Department coordinated their conference of the Public Affairs Officers for the embassies and consulates in the region with our conference so that there was a day of overlap. We had a big dinner where the Assistant Secretary of State for South Asia spoke to us (have to say not very inspiringly) and we got to meet Foreign Service Officers (people who work in embassies across the globe—many of you know that I passed the exam to do maybe do this in the future). I talked to one who is in Kabul and also met some of the State Department staff based in DC who are responsible for the Fulbright program. I guess this was supposed to be something special, but I found that no one was too impressed by Assistant Secretary. It is impossible to ignore, however, that the majority of Fulbrighters (from what I could tell) are pretty far to the left and are strongly against U.S. foreign policy at the moment. Obviously, the Asst. Sec. was towing the party line (is that the correct phrase? That is one of those phrases that I feel like could easily get screwed up. You know, you always thought it was a different word in there and just reiterated time and again. When I was younger I always thought it was ‘for all intensive purposes’ instead of ‘for all intents and purposes.’) (By the way, are you getting sick of my overactive use of parentheses for side notes or explanations???) Sorry, can’t help myself.

We also got to see performances of traditional Goan culture, but really the best thing of all was the music we had after dinner. You will never believe this, but we were listening to “The Old Country Band” made up of all Indians playing Willie Nelson songs and, and this is the most hilarious part, Havah Nagilah (okay, I have no idea how to spell it)!!!! Hahaha. I thought about rounding everyone up to do a quick horah. Hahaha.

When it was time to leave I was glad to be getting back to Bangalore to try and get some things done, but I was also sad to leave the relaxing calm of Goa. I do so love the beach (I guess that is what happens when you grow up 5 minutes away from the water) and hate to know it is so far away. Of course, I somehow missed the bus to the airport. I got to the reception area and watched it drive away. Hahaha. There was another girl who missed it so they put us on another one.

14-25 February

I was in Bangalore and got a chance to work more on my project. I went with Lizzy to this kadi (sp?) fair. Kadi is home spun fabric (what Gandhi supported so that everyone could be self-supported and not rely on or support the colonial power). We bought lots of fabric and, drum roll please,…I also got to buy my first saree!!!!! I didn’t put it on, but here is me holding it.

We also had some of the Fulbrighters we met in Goa stay with us while they were travelling in the South. During that time, I did my first sight seeing in Bangalore. We went to eat at a famous Bangalore tradition, called MTR. They now also have opened fast food places and have microwavable food in packets that are sold in the supermarkets, but the original is something else. We had to wait an hour till the first seating finished and then a whole rush of people crowded the rooms, pushing through to show the ‘gatekeeper’ their designated number which proved it was finally their time to eat. We then got moved from one room to the next until we got directed to a table and were each given large metal tray with dents in them to separate all of the different foods we would be served. Then, for the next hour, we were served (from big tin buckets) all different south Indian delights, all with their own distinctive MTR flair. We were sooo full. It was heavenly—and quite an experience.

One of the sights (and believe me, it is slim pickins in Bangalore) we went to is the “Bull Temple.” There is a HUGE, lying bull statue in the middle of the temple. Even better than seeing the bull, before entering, I got to see this sight…

So, a nun, a rabbi and a guru go into a bar…

Pretty amazing to see this. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You can see the huge bull in the background.

I also got to spend some time with Sowmya. She is moving to Switzerland this week for a new job. I am so sad to see her go. We went out with Mitali and a group of Sowmya’s friends to this cool restaurant/bar/lounge/danceclub called Hypnos. It has Middle Eastern/Turkish food and was damn good. We joked about how when we first got here we wouldn’t eat raw foods and were hyper about anything that might have been washed in water. Now we were happily eating hummus with chopped tomatoes and onions on top. Hahaha.

While out, we decided to get artistic and take some photos by candlelight. Thought I would share…

I like this one because it captures the movement of our laughter

Now Lizzy, Mitali and I are off to Rajasthan. We will be in the north for Holi—a festival where everyone throws colored paint and powder on each other. I will stay with Meg in Delhi for a bit and meet with some people working on CSR issues during my time there. Then I will get to see the Taj Mahal, go to Varanasi and on to Calcutta. In Calcutta, I will also meet with some CSR people. That will be a very long update!!!!

January 2004

6 Jan-7 Feb 2004

It has been a while since my last update, but once again, I am rushing to do this one before I go to my next thing (which will also require an update). So, some things will be truncated, but you will get the jist.

My New Apartment

I moved into my new place. I am living with Lizzy and Mitali, two other Fulbrighters, in a 3 bedroom, 3 bathroom apt. It is a good place in that it also has a refridgerator, microwave and washing machine, and it is located right in the heart of the city! However, it doesn’t have that much character. We are still trying to add some color and personal touches, so the photos you will see here will just show the basics (except for the big Ganesh wall hanging—I love Ganesh!).

Apt Photo

I managed to get a comforter and pillows for my bed, so my room is looking okay. Need to still put some more things on the wall. The hanging I have above my bed is temporary b/c it is too small. I will need to get another one I think. It is a special kind of work done by artists in Andra Pradesh (the state next to mine) with vegetable dyes. It is called kalamkari. You will notice that my bed is HUGE. What the hell is one person supposed to do with such a bed? In Brussels, I had a single bed, so this is quite a difference. Well, I figured out what to do with the bed—make it into a desk. Hahaha. You will see the piles of articles, books and papers lying on the right side of the bed. Those items live there. They don’t get taken off at night and then replaced in the morning. No! No need. I have plenty of room even with them there. Sad.

Room Photo

We have gotten a woman to clean (you need to clean often b/c there is much dust in India). She is the cleaning woman for our landlady (that is, the woman who is the go between for us and the owner of the apartment—but I will get to her later). It is awful though b/c she is pretty old and I hate the idea of her having to clean my apartment. Plus, she is not that good. However, it is a dilemna b/c she needs the money that cleaning an additional apartment will provide. What to do?? Oh, the inner turmoil. I am not mocking here, I am being serious. These are the types of things that I feel like I have to think about so much more in India than in the U.S. But I probably should be thinking about them even more at home than I do too. It is usually the case that when you are in a foreign land you see things as an outsider and so you therefore think about them more. It doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be more musings of your own society, but you are more comfortable and often do not even notice what is going on around you. Well, for now we are keeping her, so I guess it is decided.

Anyway, we also wanted to get a cook, but that has alluded us thus far (and we are not really pushing the issue out of laziness). I went to lunch at my friend Prashant’s house and it was so yummy (courtesy of his cook that it inspired me—maybe soon I will look into it). Also, we do want to learn how to cook some Indian dishes, so I think that, at some point, we will motivate.

On Republic Day, January 26th, the anniversary of the signing of the Indian Constitution, we had some Fulbrighters over to see our place and then to go to dinner. We got Indian flags to decorate. Here is a photo of the roommies:

Setting Up the Apartment

I am sitting here in debate about whether or not to go into the gory details of the actual setting up of the apartment-- that is, the internet, the phone, the letter of receipt to send in to Fulbright for rent reimbursement, the plumbing, and what have you. Let’s just say that I had to sit home for over a week to wait for all of the necessary parties to come and set things up. Appointments just do not hold the same value as they do in the U.S. (not that any cable guy ever comes on time either—what is that—someone will be there between 9am and 1pm!!). We also had some back and forths with our landlady. It is unclear if some of the mixups were because the people weren’t showing up on time or if she was giving us the wrong information. I hate the go betweens, so I finally told her to give us the phone numbers so we could take care of it ourselves. Ahh! How frustrating. I hate to say it, but I also found that the only way we really wound getting anything done was by yelling. I cannot tell you how many phonecalls went back and forth between the internet “help” desk and us (why are they called that if they can’t ever seem to help??). Finally, when I yelled and demanded to talk to the head person we got something accomplished. Alas, we finally got internet after one month. I still don’t have a phone, mind you. But basically everything is good and functioning so I can’t complain.

My First Illness

This brings up another topic. One of the reasons I didn’t mind waiting at home was because I was sick for the first time since coming to India. It wasn’t anything too major, but went back and forth for a week and half or so. I had a fever and was throwing up and stuff. Went to two doctors (well hospitals—that is where you go—straight to the emergency room). It is quite amazing in fact. If you have enough money here (which is basically nothing for U.S. standards) you just go to a hospital, register (takes less than 5 minutes) and then get shown to a doctor. Can you believe it!!!! In the U.S. you have to wait for weeks for an appointment and if you are really sick, you better hope that you already have a primary care physician who will take you right away (at which time you will wait in the waiting room in his/her office for approximately 2 hours). I was also lucky because my mom’s friend who is a doctor had a doctor here to contact. I felt better knowing there was someone I could go to.

I didn’t eat much for a few days. After which time, a few people said—you look thinner. I was laughing because it goes with my new found observation. It always seems that people lose weight when they go to India. Well, I hadn’t lost any and laughed at myself thinking I would be the only person to live on the subcontinent and not lose weight (figures, right?). But then I realized most people lose weight because they get sick. Well, I hadn’t gotten sick. The more I talked to other foreigners about it, the more I heard that people were actually gaining weight. Who knew? So, here was the proof—the first time anyone said I had lost weight was after I didn’t eat for a few days. Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Hahaha.

Anyway, just in case you were worrying—don’t. I am pretty much fine now!

Cultural Events

I am very happy to report that I have enjoyed a few cultural events in the past month. I went with Mitali and Lizzie to see a very famous tabla player. The tabla is a bongo/drum like instrument that I don’t much about. I do know that it is very difficult to make a sound out of it. But you would never guess from the fabulous rythms, and marvelous melodies that rose from the instrument in the hands of a master, Zakir Hussein. It is difficult to describe how incredible it is to watch the hands move at lightning speed and make sounds like a train if he wants them to—the rhythm and tempo exact, or an argument between a husband and wife--the inflection and intonation mimicking to a tee. I had never heard it before and I am sure if you haven’t you don’t know what I mean. But trust me and go see someone sometime—it is worth it!

I also went with Mitali and with my friend Sonam to see a famous flautist. There was an all night festival at IIMB a few weekends ago (we didn’t stay the whole time). This a traditional type of festival as villagers used to (and still do) stay up all night to play music, sing, dance and watch performers. This time we saw Hariprasad Chaurasia. His music echoed the sounds of the forest and and put a trance on all of the listeners. At first, I think for a not accustomed ear, you think, “How can I listen to this for two hours?” But then, somehow, the time flies by while you are lost in the motion of the music. I have a photo, but it is far away and hard to see because it was taken at night. Boo!

Here you can see him:

I went last night to a yearly all night festival called Vasantha Habba (wich means Spring Festival I think). It is at a village nearby which is famous for teaching dancers the art of traditional Indian dance techniques. We saw dancers and musicians and in the morning there was supposed to be fusion music, but we only stayed until about 3:30. There were tons of people there. Supposedly last year there were 40,000.

Besides music, I also went to museums while I was in Bombay (will talk more about that in a minute). I went to see an exhibit of paintings by a famous Indian modern artist, MF Hussein. It was a series done on Kerala, the long, thin western coastal state boardering mine. It is supposed to be fabulous! I am hoping to go in April/May. I would not miss it. Anyway, I LOVED the exhibit and was very much looking forward to buying some posters. I did, but of course, they did not have posters of my favorite pieces. Why does that always happen? I always wonder who is the person that decides which paintings they will make as the exhibit’s posters. I never agree with those people. I am not sure if you can tell, but I took a photo of some of the postcards they gave away (as a promotion from the Kerala toursims bureau). Here they are:

I also went to the Prince of Wales Museum where I got to look at beautiful carved ivory and jade and wooden boxes and Indian miniatures. They are so beautiful and I have learned to appreciate them a bit too. I hope to get one before I leave. Not sure if you are familiar with these, but there are many websites where you can learn more about them (don’t know any off hand).

World Social Forum: 15-19 Jan

I had wanted to write a lot about my thoughts on the World Social Forum, but I find I am not sure what to say. In addition, the time that has passed since I returned has dampened my thoughts and memories of the impressions of the events.

The WSF is in its 3rd year and was started in Brazil as a response to the World Economic Forum. It basically strives to give a voice to those in opposition to the one framework ideology of globalization and and a space for people and organizations from across the globe to come together to talk about issues, concerns, action plans, etc. I was hesitant to go because I felt like it was going to be one big “Kill the Man” bash, but I also felt that it was a unique opportunity that I would not have again. Lizzy joked that Mitali was going there and going to slap the Man and that I was going to kiss him and make it better. Hahaha.

When I first got there and met some people, I felt like I didn’t really belong and also sort of felt like it was a bit of BS. But then, after a few days, I heard some interesting talks (including by Joseph Stiglitz, Arundhati Roy, the head of Amnesty International, and the Nobel Peace Prize woman from Iran –can never spell her name). I also went to some good smaller sessions on about accountability in NGOs (sponspored by one of centers at the Kennedy School), CSR in small-medium enterprises and the like.

It was like a big festival in some ways. There were people from different tribes who were performing, dancing, singing, playing intruments, as well as actors, professional musicians, activists, parades and documentaries. There were so many people, advocating for so many things that it was at once inspiring and demotivating---all of the suffering in the world. Yes, yes- people with disabilities have rights; yes-untouchables are still poor and marginalized; yes, women are baring the bront of the evils of globalization; yes, the environment is being destroyed; yes, farmers are losing their livelihoods to unfair trade…and the list goes on and on. AHHH! So overwhelming. But in the end, I felt it was good to touch base with the realities of the world. I claim to want to help people, but it is too easy to just forget about what many people have to go through each and every day to survive. That doesn’t mean I am against capitalism, and it doesn’t mean I am even against globalization. But I have lived an incredibly priviledged life and I just cannot even imagine a different one. If I don’t live in that other world, at least I should visit to see what it is like…

I think it is important for us all to think about that. To think about how the world is working, to step away from our comfortable lives, to ask what are those with power doing to those without. For example, think about Enron. We were all outraged at the scandal and at how many people lost their jobs and their savings. But most of those people, still could survive, they received Social Security, they had skills that could be applied elsewhere. But what about poor people in developing countries whose livelihoods are controlled by large multi-nationals? What happens to them when there is a scandal or when the company pulls out because of one reason or another? They have nothing. I think one of the main things that hit home was the lack of any security for these people. Not to go on a rampage, but I think these are things we are responsible for thinking about. I surely don’t know the answers, and, in fact, am very ambivalent about the whole situation, but just wanted to share…

Here are some photos of the forum (by the way, I think someone should do a case study on the incredibly organized Save Tibet movement—those folks are everywhere):

Pune: 20-21 Jan

We decided that 4 days of the WSF was enough and planned to go to Pune, another city about 4 hours away from Bombay, for a day or two. Our idea was to go to the OSHO ashram, an internationally famous locale where people come, wear maroon robes, and partake in meditation, yoga, and the like to obtain some greater meaning of life. OSHO was the guru who founded the movement and the ashram in Pune, as well as one in Oregon. He died, but his teachings are a bit different then with some other movements because he doesn’t seem to stress depriving the self of material pleasures. I really don’t know much about it, but it is supposed to be an ashram for the wealthy that combines spirituality with materialism. Many, many followers, haha. You can easily find out more with a google search.

Here is a photo of the entrance. It is pretty space/futuristic-like with all these people walking around in maroon robes and with the slate grey walkways and buildings. Seems like straight out of a Star Trek movie.

Well, it is not really set up to have day visitors and the man who greeted us (either an American or a Canadian) was sort of a jerk. We didn’t feel that welcome (huh?? Isn’t that the point) and realized it was not worth the cost (lots of start up costs—including an HIV test--only make sense if you are staying for a week or so), especially because we might not even be able to attend any meditation sessions.

We did take advantage of the European style bakery (catering to the many OSHO guests) and had real grain bread and gouda cheese! Yum. Then decided, instead of reaching the heights of enlightenment we would climb up and reach the heights of a Fort on one of the many plateaus outside of the city. Maharashtra, the state where Bombay and Pune are located, has magnificent landscapes of plateau after plateau. I don’t feel like people talk about visiting there for that, but I had noticed these vistas from the train on the way to Bombay, and I wanted to take advantage of it.

Here are some photos from the “Fort”—there is really nothing there, you just go for the views.

Loved this image

Me and the world (I am the small orange spec)

A funny aside—we ate at a Pizza Hut the night before (with a Brit who we met at the hotel). There we were, happily eating our pizza, when all of a sudden, the waiters announced that they were going to do a dance for us. Within one second some dance music came on and four of the waiters were boogeying down (very skillfully, I might add) as if in a Bollywood movie. How hilarious and utterly random? We never get that kind of entertainment in Pizza Huts in the U.S.!

Check out this street sign from Pune-hehe

Mitali’s Family’s House

I was so lucky that when I went to Bombay I got to stay with Mitali at her family’s house. Her father’s two brothers are in business together and have a house where everyone resides. Their wives, along with the widow of another brother, spend their days making delicious Gujarati food. Happily, I got to enjoy the fruits of their labor. I also got to go out with the family to some delicious restaurants (Bombay is known as the most cosmopolitan of Indian cities and the only one who truly has a great night life). I also got to appreciate their immaculate apartment and their driver (who took us back and forth to the WSF—pretty ironic, no? Having a driver take you to a forum where everyone is saying down with neo-imperialism). Here are some photos of the apartment and her family.

Also, the Shiv Sena—essentially the Mumbai mob that has incredible influence over the politics of Bombay has an enclave right outside of her family’s house (nothing dangerous—don’t worry). Here is the symbol of organization:

The tiger:

I am going to Goa today for the Fulbright Conference. I can’t believe that is here already. Time is flying by! When I get back I will update on the activities and have more to say about my project—I think it is getting going (been doing a lot in the past few weeks, but will let you know about that later). Until then!

Mid December Through New Year's

Soo much to write about…and yet again not much time. I will try to do my best and go in chronological order.

7-11 December 2003
DoorsEast 2

Before I left India to go to the U.S. for my sister Bonnie’s wedding, I had a crazy busy week (as I already mentioned). The organization I was working with a bit, CKS, was co-sponsoring a conference called DoorsEast with a Dutch organization called Doors of Perception. It brought together people from many different disciplines Europe and India to talk about “service design.” I think I explained this a bit before, but you can also check out the website: doorseast.org to learn more about it and see photos too.

Basically, it was a really interesting week where I had the opportunity to meet bright, creative and enthusiastic people working in different fields. I had originally thought that the work they do is not related to my background or interests because many are in the field of design. However, when one speaker talked about his project his started by saying that he and his colleagues were talking about how there should be a new degree program called a MFPWWTMTWB. That is, a Masters For People Who Want To Make Things Work Better. I thought—Hey, that is me!

Besides, half the people where from Holland (well I am exaggerating a bit)—so of course I would like them all. Hehehe. Seriously, I hope to contact some in the future to see what they are working on and the like

12-23 Dec 2003
Back to the U.S. of A.

So, as in typical Elizabeth fashion, I had to leave directly from the conference to go to the airport to catch the first of my 3, yes 3, flights back to the U.S. Uhh—a long journey of over 30 hours ensued to bring me back to my motherland. Along the way I noticed some things:

In the Bombay airport they have chaise lounges so you can actually lie down while waiting for your flight. Pretty nifty idea. Why couldn’t they have that in Zurich where I had to wait 6 hours???? Don’t ever wait to buy souvenirs in the Bombay airport—man are they ridiculously overpriced. I mean RIDICULOUS. And don’t let them tell you that it is becoming illegal to bring sandalwood outside of the country the next day so you need to get it while you can. Hahaha. Sandalwood is from the south anyway, so no reason to buy it there.

When I stepped off the plane is Zurich and proceeded to the ladies room, I looked around me at the sleek lines, immaculate space, the modern design and felt like I could have been at the MOMA. And that was just the bathroom! I thought to myself—you gotta love Switzerland. After coming from dusty, polluted, crowded and chaotic India, Switzerland is a peaceful, clean oasis. I spent the next hours trying to kill time by looking through the limited number of shops in the aiport. One adorable, tiny (and I mean tiny) wooden trinket I picked up (I thought I could buy for my nephew, Ben, was about $35!!! I thought to myself—you gotta hate Switzerland. After coming from cheap, get-most-everything-for-a-bargain India, Switzerland is like the Tiffany’s of countries (well, maybe Norway is worse, but when I was there I was more used to those prices). Anyway, although I didn’t eat the whole time I was there because I couldn’t afford a $15 hamburger, I did manage to get some beloved chocolate. And that makes the journey home almost worthwhile in itself. Hehe.

Let me ask you, though, why are the legs of multiple flights that are on American carriers so much more sucky than the ones on European carriers? They never have the screens on the back of the seats to that each person can watch her own movies and the flight attendants stink (often, but not always) and the food is worse? By the way, Hulk was one of the worst movies ever created! Why did have to be shown from India to Switzerland, Switzerland to NY and then back again when I left?! The saving grace was that I got to see Finding Nemo and that I finally got to watch a Hindi movie with English subtitles so I actually knew what they were saying. Even so, the Bollywood films I watched on the plane were not good at all. They were no Kal Ho Naa Ho (very popular movie right now in India for those who don’t know—I have the title song as my ring tone on my cell phone).

So, I FINALLY made it to NY with my bag filled with goodies to give as presents (mostly for Bonnie to give to other people for being part of the wedding).

The week was spent getting fitted for my bridesmaid dress, getting a haircut, taking care of some details for the wedding and getting to visit with some friends (although there were many who I missed L). Besides my loving family (including BEN!!!!!), it was great to see you Jen and Roger; Stacy; Kathleen, Lorie and Alexa; Jessica, Erika, Uval, Jbaer, Jami, Stephani, Jason, and Jordon. And it was also wonderful to catch up with so many on the phone who I didn’t get to see in person. It felt so cozy to be in New York during the holidays—with the snow and the cold and the lights and the general feeling of hustle, bustle and energy. Even though India is so crowded I still felt, when walking on Fifth Avenue, that there are so many people buzzing around in New York. I just love it. Mitali (one of my roommates and I were talking about how there are so many people in the streets of India, but they are often just sort of milling about—not moving and on the go like in the big apple).

The Wedding

And on to the reason that I actually went back to the U.S.—Bonnie’s wedding!

On Friday night, (after I made a quick trip to see the tree at Rockefeller Plaza) we had a intimate rehearsal dinner with the immediate families and the bridal party. It was so nice to get to see Bonnie’s friends and wonderful to meet Kevin’s brothers and best friends for the first time. Everyone gave good speeches, and were especially funny about Kevin’s quirks. I would love to post a photo or two from it, but I had a technical snafoo with the CD with all of the photos from the wedding weekend. I am really disappointed about that because now I don’t have photos to look at while I am here and because you don’t get to see the dress I had made here in India. It was a project of mine for about a month. My friend, Sowmya, took me to a tailor she knows and we designed and Indo-Western dress made of a purple/blue silk and embroidered by hand. I went for about 4 fittings (they are not that great with tailoring western style dresses for women). I also had this silk shawl with golden threads (I think that is called zari) that matched. Well, I will just have to wear it again when I am back in the U.S. to show you all!

Bonnie also gave out her gifts to her bridesmaids, which included hand embroidered silk bags I had made in India to match our dresses and silk shawls I got here as well.

Saturday, the 20th, was the big day. Bonnie had gotten the suite at the Yale club, where the wedding was taking place, so we all got ready there. Two women came to do our hair and makeup. Things were pretty calm, but at the end we were running late of course anyway.

And then the wedding…it was beautiful. I cannot tell you have stunning Bonnie looked. She could have graced the cover of any magazine. The ceremony was really nice (including an openning reminiscent of Joey’s speech for Monica and Chandler on Friends—nobody seemed to notice though except for Bonnie and me, both of whom had an internal chuckle about it) with both a minister and a rabbi. The minister is the chaplain for the UN (how appropriate for Kevin in particular). Besides the fact that one of my contacts fell out (I got it back in luckily) during the ceremony it went off without a hitch. There were also some personal touches. My uncle, a violinist, played in the quartet which performed the music as we all walked down the aisle. Kevin’s dear friend from college is an opera singer and she also performed during the ceremony. She was incredible!

On to the party - my primary concern during the cocktail hour was to get SUSHI! I could barely wait…but I would have to. Every time I made a move to the sushi bar I bumped into a relative or friend who wanted to know about India. I felt a bit like Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate (with the exception that nobody adivised me about getting into “plastics”). I was excited to see my whole family and all of my family friends and was so honored that they wanted to hear all about my life, but I just needed some of that sushi. I mean, 10 months without is just too damn long! Hehe. I did finally get to savour some tuna and eel and was I happy.

I also got to catch up with everyone, which of course was so wonderful. I just could not believe how many people told me they have been reading my site. I was shocked! Thank you all so much for being so interested. But now I feel all the pressure to make sure it is good. Hahaha. I figured no one read it, well, maybe skim or look at the photos, but then my mom’s friend’s date’s cousin is telling me how interesting it is and I am thinking “Oh no, I better come up with some good stuff!” So (to all of you who are still reading), I hope it delivers.

The reception was beautiful, the food was delicious and the band was great. The white flowers and candles that dotted the tables added romance and warmth to the grand room. The four courses were so yummy that I made sure to run back to the table during dancing to at least have a bite or two of each. The psychotically amazing bongo player with the buffest arms I have ever seen on a woman (and she was 50 years old!) added incredible energy. Everyone got down to her insane rythms. The band opened up with a welcoming song of “We Coming to America” by Neil Diamond in honor of all of us how had travelled far and wide to make it to the wedding. Not only was I in from India, but Kevin’s brothers live in Japan and Scotland. There were people from about 15 countries I think in total. Bonnie and Kevin also asked my cousin, Laura, a professional singer-and AMAZING at that, to sing a tribute to my parents and his. She sang Natalie Merchant’s Thank You (well, that is not the title, but I can’t remember the real one). It was perfect except for one snag—my uncle, her father, was stuck in the elevator during the performance! and for another hour of the party! That was probably the only catastrophe of the wedding (and minor at that because he, as well as the other guest stuck in there, were fine. And it adds a sort of funny story too, I guess).
After the party, we were so tired, but went to the Royalton for some drinks and more conversation. And then to bed for a few hours before going to the final activity—the Sunday brunch. It provided a good chance to talk a bit more with close friends and relatives before concluding the weekend.

Here are some photos of the wedding. They are not necessarily the best, but they are the only ones I have here.

I then had to get myself ready to go back to India. I have to say that I am not that fond of the going back and forth thing. On the one hand, it was so comforting for me to know that I was returning to the U.S. in two months when I originally left for my time in India. But then, when I was trying to get settled here, I didn’t feel quite ready to pick up and go back. Once I was back in the U.S. it felt normal to be there, but also a bit weird (as always happens in these circumstances) in a way I have never been able to describe, but if you have been through it you know. After the week and a half, I again felt adjusted back to America mode, just in time to have to go back. This time it was easier in that I knew what I was going back to—India was no longer a complete mystery—but it was also so much harder to know it would a separation for so long. Despite my travels, my living in a different city from family for more than four years (both in the U.S. and overseas), I have always seen those people so special to me within 5 or 6 months at most. This time it would be more like 7 months at least. Time flies, as we all know, but saying goodbye was hard.

25-26 Dec 2003
Mumbai (Bombay)

Now that I spent a few pages talking about the U.S., which you already know about I am left with not much time to write about my travels back in India. Of course this update was supposed to be posted several days ago already and here I am, about to leave to go back up to Bombay (and therefore a self-imposed deadline was created). Therefore, I will be borrowing liberally from my Aussie friend, Ian, with whom I travelled because he wrote a very eloquant group email to his friends about his journey. Thanks, Ian! I will let you know where it is his writing (however, you can tell because he is quite a bit more eloquant than I).

I arrived late on Christmas Eve and within days of arrival I lost (or it was stolen) my very favorite jean jacket, which was my only jacket and now I am quite chilled at night, my watch broke and the zipper on my backpack broke. Ahh! Why couldn’t any of this have happened in the U.S.?? Anyway, we stayed at a Salvation Army hostel that was quite disgusting (does having a huge hole in the wall that goes to the outside tell you anything about this place?), but it was across from the Taj Hotel and therefore was quite expensive. Couldn’t wait to get out of there.

The first day there was Christmas. We met up with Mitali who was staying there with her family and went for an Indian lunch. I found it quite ironic that Ian, who got to spend Christmas with westerners, still didn’t get to really celebrate the holiday fully because, despite that fact that Mitali and I are westerners, neither of us are Christian. Hahaha. What are the odds? We spent the rest of the day resting (after we had already seen the Gateway to India which served as the final point of departure for the British as they left their former colony) particularly because I was tired from my journey.

The next day we went to go see the Dabawallahs who are now becoming world renown for the efficiency and effectiveness. They are the men who bring the lunches, made by mothers and wives in the suburbs of Bombay, to the men who work in the city. They are famous because there are thousands and thousands (maybe more) of lunches that they transport without making a single error. It is even more remarkable because the lunch goes through 10-20 hands of Dabawallahs, most of whom are illiterate. There have now been many business cases done on them and one of the leaders told us that two masters students were currently studying them. They are quite amazing to see in action. They carry these things on their heads across the rows and rows of traffic and even cross the dividers in the middle of the road!

After our observations, we went to go learn about another phenomenon in India-cricket. I finally learned the rules of the game. Ian, being and Aussie, is a huge fan. We got to watch a game in action in the park and he explained it all. Hooray! But I am not really sure why I am saying this so enthusiastically. It is not as if I plan to watch any of these about-as-exciting-as-watching-paint-dry matches that drag on for days (what?!).

We then hung out in Mitali’s uncles’ store and then their club. Pretty tough life, huh? But mostly because we were all pretty beat. So not a minute out in any of the swanky Bombay hotspots. I will be back so I hope to at least see what the financial capital and center of the Bollywood industry have to offer.

Gateway of India

Funny cab driver photo

Some of Bombay's architecture

27 Dec 2003
Ellora Caves
Now-borrowed from Ian: The following day saw us travelling to Aurangabad to visit the Ellora and Ajanta caves, famed masterpieces of Hindu and Buddhist art and architecture, and ancient testament to the grand and unswerving devotion so often inspired by those two great faiths.

The Ellora caves (which include Buddhist, Hindu and Jain caves) we visited first, with the centrepiece being the Kailash Temple, a huge Hindu temple not built upwards in the usual fashion but instead carved out of a mountainside, an effort that took a whole one hundred and fifty years. The end result is an elaborate network of pillars, courtyards and shrines all richly decorated with the fine carvings of abundantly-limbed deities polishing off various irksome demons that distinguish Hindu art, and all set within what is effectively a quarry.

It is incredible to see and the pictures just do not do it justice.

One of me in the Buddhist caves

The same day we also saw the mini-Taj, which is pretty crappy (and I haven’t even see the Taj Mahal yet to compare it to), this fort that one of the old rulers decided should serve as the new capital and so therefore forced all of the people of Delhi to walk thousands of miles there, most dying along the way, only to change his mind a few years later, the tomb of the last Moghul Ruler, Aurengzab (sp?), and this interesting temple where all the men had to take their shirts off in orfer to enter.

Muslim men outside of the tomb

28 Dec 2003
Ajanta Caves
The following day we visited the Ajanta caves, older than the Ellora caves and exclusively Buddhist. Where Ellora is justly famous for its masterful sculpture, Ajanta is equally famous for
its murals, depicting the Buddha in his various incarnations through the ages, performing acts of tremendous self-sacrifice for the good of the less sanguine public within which he found himself.

The one problem I found with the caves was that it was difficult to see some of the paintings because was kept dark to preserve the caves. This, coupled with the fact that I neither knew what I was looking at nor knew the religious stories that they were depicting, made it harder to get the full value out of the caves. However, even with these constraints it is quite amazing to see these caves and paintings some of which are almost two thousand years old.

Something Ian noted was about how often “the religious painter, who, generally something of an ardent soul to begin with, is free to give full vent to whatever angels and demons lurk within, thus the prevalence of violent and disturbing scenes in the great works of religious art. With this in mind, it is quite remarkable that the Ajanta cave paintings, full of the myths and legends of the Buddhist faith and painted by artists drunk on the fervent spirit of the faithful, are entirely free of fire, brimstone and divine wrath, and instead show us the very epitome of benevolence and grace. While confessing ignorance of the subtle nuances of Buddhism, and without wishing to sound too much like Richard Gere, it is this genuine benevolence that for me is the most striking element of the faith, and the one that is most instructive to the non-Buddhist. After all, a Buddhist fundamentalist is just someone who is really, really peaceful and extremely inclined to let everybody else go about their business.” Interesting.

On a lighter note, I found great pleasure in taking photos in India of these ancient caves and with Indians while wearing my newly acquired “I love NY” t-shirt.

Buddha

On the way back to Aurangabad we saw many a vehichle OVERLOADED with people. First there is the two wheeler with three people on it, then there is an autorickshaw with six people in it, there there is this oversized autorickshaw with about 10 people in it, then there is this larger than a jeep type of truck with about 12 people in it, 2 on top and four hanging off the sides and then you have big trucks packed with people standing up packed in like sardines for hours and hours. I wish I had photos to show you what I mean, but it is hard to get it because they are on the move.

We also went to this place where they weave fabric, including sarees. Take a look at this--takes 6 months to make one.

30 Dec 2003-3 Jan 2004
Palolem, Goa

After the caves, we had a pretty annoying, very long journey on two, very much delayed trains to get to Palolem in the middle of the night to find that our room was given away. We managed to stay in the room of the man who takes care of a hotel for a few hours before we woke up to search for a new place. No worries though because before long we found a place with huts on the beach and friends of ours from IIMB to boot!! It wound up being a great group and I even had another group of friends who met up at the same beach later in the day.

The next days were spent relaxing, enjoying the beach, the sun, the sea, and most definitely the food. We would joke about how we didn’t understand where the day went and then we realized we spent about 6 hours a day waiting for food. Let’s just say that no one was ever in a rush to serve you. Things move slowly in a beach culture and definitely one influenced by hundreds of years of Portuguese rule. But again, no worries, while waiting you were usually looking at the beach and watching the waves.

Our hands down favorite food item was Banoffee pie. Have you ever had it? Well, apparently it is not just found in Goa, but also in the UK and who knows where else. Hooray!!!!! I can’t wait to comparison taste tests. Please take my advice and try it. It is fabulous and we were obsessed with it—all of us.

I got mendhi for the first time (henna) on my feet, but only a little. It will be fun to do it again. We spent New Years as a group of 3 Belgains, 2 Italians, an Australian, 4 Americans and surrounded by hordes of Indians, not to mention the even bigger numbers of Israelis and Dutch who religiously go to Goa year round (but especially during the New Years time). Here is a blurb from Ian that is really amusing:

All around were other Western backpackers doing not much on the beach, many decked out in the ridiculously baggy, outrageously colourful and zipper and button free clothing that is the exclusive uniform of Western backpackers at tropical beaches, attire that makes for the sort of
defiantly casual look that says to the world “I’m breaking free of the rigid confines of Western
society, this is the real me, and next board meeting I chair I’m going to be dressed exactly as I am today”. Still, far from being above such theatrics, I must own that I did make some thankfully temporary concessions to the style, saying to the world “I know I’d look ridiculous to any objective eye, but not half as ridiculous as that guy over there with the blonde dreadlocks, henna tattoos and an anklet.” --hehehe

Me with the palms, the sea, and the setting sun

Getting mendhi

The restaurants all decorate with this beautiful stars lit up at night and the whole beach is lined with them. I asked one place if I could buy one that I particularly liked and they gave it to me for free!

We went on a boat to try and see dolphins-saw a few, but only from afar

I met quite a few interesting people from among these westerners, including these 2 Israelis who took a bunch of us to the best part of the beach to watch the sunset (they should know b/c they had been at Palolem for a month). It was so serene and peaceful and just beautiful. One of them said:

“It was nice, and it is nice that is was”

He told me it was a Hebrew saying. I just loved it. It fit so beautifully with the setting and with the ending of a year and how I was feeling. I thought, how wonderful it would be if we could always feel that way about the things that we encounter in our lives. To feel it was good, to be glad to have had the experience, and to be satisfied with it-ready to move on. That is one of my hopes for me for this year and all of the years to come.

4-5 Jan 2004
Gokarna

We then went on to another beach area, but this time in Karnataka (the state in which I live) called Gokarna. This place is a sort of secret (but one that is slowly becoming more and more known) and is more quite, beautiful and serene than Goa. We stayed for only a day and half, but got to hike a bit from one beach to another and to watch another beautiful sunset.

Cliffside view

A truly Indian sunset

Hampi

27-30 November 2003

HAMPI

Well, I was planning on writing a short entry and leaving my pictures of Hampi to speak for themselves, but I had an unfortunate event occur. I was saving my photos from my memory card (from my digital camera) to my hard drive, when all of a sudden, I got an error message saying I had a sharing violation. Behind the little grey box in the middle of my screen I could see all of my photos disappearing in a row. What?!?!?!?!?!?

I didn’t know what to do. What just happened? Was something wrong with my card, my camera? Did I do something wrong? I was in shock at having lost 130 (yes 130) photos. Knowing how I love pictures, I am sure you can all imagine my disappiontment and frustration. One friend helped me a bit and basically figured that I did something wrong. However, I talked to another friend who knows all about this and he said that the cards are volatile and that if you are editing from them or renaming while leaving the photos on the card sometimes it can go haywire. AHHH! I never knew. So, here I have learned a lesson the hard way and hopefully you won’t have to (at my expense). ALWAYS save your photos immediately to your hard drive and then manipulate them.

Now on to Hampi. I will keep this short because, as usual, I have a million things that I need to do all converging on the same 4 day period. Why does this always happen? There is the CKS DoorsEast conference I told you about (It starts Sunday, goes all next week, I am missing part of it, but we are very busy with the final details). I also have to plan my time from Christmas to New Year’s for when I come back to India. That was supposedly all figured out, right? Wrong. The trains I thought I was taking are all booked. So now, I have one overnight train for 1o hours, followed by a 6 hour wait in a trains station, followed by an all day 9 hour train ride. Joy! Then I also have somehow ramped up my research into CSR and the like. I had an interview with this Rhodes scholar at HP Labs yesterday, a meeting with the professor who heads the Centre for Corporate Citizenship today and am trying to squeeze in a last minute lunch meeting with Meg’s boss who will be in Bangalore for the day tomorrow. She had some ideas for my project so we thought it would be good to meet. I say squeeze her in because, I in the midst of all of this, I am looking for apartments! My friend, Mitali is coming in tomorrow from Dharwad so that she and I, and another Fulbrighter, Lizzy, can all go look for a three bedroom apt together. I am so tired just thinking of all of this. But at least I can be comforted by what comes in one week. What is that, you ask? Oh a 36 hour journey from Bangalore to Bombay to Zurich to New York. I just can’t wait. Hahaha.

[Update: I wrote the above paragraph last week. Since then, we found a place!!! But more on that once I move in there in January]

Okay, now really on to Hampi. Hampi is this beautiful remote village in northern Karnataka (the state I live in), that requires an overnight train and then about a half hour bus or rickshaw drive to get to. My friends and I stayed across the river, so it also entailed a walk through the town, a moist coracle (a round boat that looks like a huge woven basket and keeps water out just as well) ride and then a walk down this stip of dirt road, lined with guest houses to reach our destination—the Mowgli Guest House. Actually, I cannot complain. I went for the weekend with two Fulbrighters, Adrienne and Lizzy (aforementioned). But we were also accompanied by Brian, who was one of the exchange students at IIMB (he is from Seattle) and we were meeting David (another exchange student), his wife and also the mother of yet another exhange student. The latter three arrived the day earlier and had 2 rickshaws come to meet us at the train station. How great is that? Then they brought us to the guest house where we ate banana chocolate crepes and looked over a magnificent field of rice paddies with hills in the background and coconut trees everywhere. I would show you a photo, but we already went into that.

Hampi is known for its beauty—there are these mountain formations made out of rusty brown boulders (reminiscent of Arizona or Utah in a way) framing the way along valleys of rice paddies, banana fields and coconut groves. There is a river, the Tungabadhra, which flows through the place and is considered holy. Which brings me to its second claim to fame. It is filled with temples. It is sacred on three levels. It was supposedly where something happened (forgot what) with Shiva )and there are temples to him. Then it was the land of the monkey kings and there is a Hanuman (the monekey god of mischief) temple sitting, white, high atop one of the mountains. The third thing had to do with the kingdom that was there several hundred years ago, but I forgot the details.

It was always known for its bazaar and trade that occurred there. The Portuguese and Arabs brought horses. There were others from all over the place and selling diamonds, gold, spices, camels and just about everything else. We went to see lots of things, including the Vittala, Vurapaksha and Hazan Rama temples, the old palaces, the monkey temple—where this little boy, Ragu, helped us and then made music with his mouth like being in a club and danced for us-hehehe, the reservoir that looks like a lake and has an amazing peacefulness to it. We hiked up a hill to see another temple (had this great picture of me with this sadhu—holy man) and watch the sunset (more great lost shots-okay I will stop). We had a guide for the first two days named Ragu, oh and one of our rickshaw drivers names’s was Ragu. Sense a pattern here?? I didn’t mind because it is quite easy to pronounce! Haha.

There are lots of backpackers in Hampi, including hordes of Israelis who are toxifying (I can’t take credit for that word, but thought it was quite funny and accurate) after three years in the army while they travel. This is when I wish I had actually learned Hebrew in my 5 years at Hebrew school. Their presence meant that all of the guest houses had Israeli food, including hummus and Israeli salad. Hooray!! I was quite excited. There were also lots of Europeans and quite a few Italian restaurants and “European” bakeries. We met some really nice and cool people, so that made the trip even better. On the day we went to the lake we rented bikes with this American, Kevin, from SF and this Indian, Neeta, who has been living in the U.S. for about 7 years. She is now moving to South Africa to work on her dissertation. We had a great day with them. Well, I was at the kick-off party for the DoorsEast Conference (the one I have been working on) on Sunday and one of the other women who is friends with Aditya and helping out says to me—I heard you met my friend Neeta in Hampi. Neeta is not even from Bangalore—she is from Bombay. How funny! Small world, even in the land of 1 billion people.

No more time to write b/c I must be finishing up before I get going to the U.S. But here are some photos from Hampi.

View from the train on the way to Hampi

Woman making a powder design (how beautiful is this pattern?!)

The coracle ride

View from our side of the river

Inside the Vurapaksha temple we saw:

Monkeys

A marriage ceremony

The gateway to the 570 steps up to the Monkey Temple (with the whole crew). You can see the white temple at the top of the mountain

The Elephant stables in the Palace complex. The top of the structure has 3 styles, which align with the three major religions existing at the time of the construction--Jain, Muslim, Hindu.

Rama temple roof

Cutie pies

TIDBITS

I have a bunch of small things to write about to get me up to date. I am sure there are plenty of things I am forgetting, but I am getting sick of the feeling that I am behind with the updates. So here are some things that I have done or what is going on in the last few weeks...

Nature Reserve- 9 November

After a day of shopping with my friend Sowmya and her daughter Nishka, I went back to nature. There was a trip to the Bannerghatta Nature Reserve organized by students at IIMB and a bunch of the foreign students were going. So, I thought I would join along.

The park is further south of the school on the same road. Apparently, up until a few years ago, IIMB was pretty much in the country. However, the development of the city has been so rapid that now the city is expanding farther and farther south and hitting right up to the partk.

We took a 2 hour or so walk in the nature. We mostly looked at birds, butterflies and plants. One of the coolest things was this plant called a “touch-me-not” that would curl up when ou touched it to protect itself from predators. Besides that, the walk was sort of on the boring side and the foreign students were complaining quite a bit. They were told they would see wild animals, but this wasn’t really cutting it. As we were sort of ending this part of the day, we got a big surprise though:

Okay you might not be able to tell what this is, but it is a crocodile! There were two of them. They look like rocks, but trust me—they were the mighty reptiles.

Then we finally go to go to the exciting part of the day. We paid to get into the park and then got on a bus, which had bars on the window and drove into a section of the reserve. Well, here is what we got to see. Yes, in India for only 2 ½ weeks and already I got to see a…

TIGER!!!!

And also a white tiger

They were so close I couldn’t believe it. They were literally right next to the bus—closer than I have even seen in people’s safari photos. However, they weren’t really in the wild. Still it was incredible.

Here is another photo during the day. It is me, Fredrik from Sweden, and Surrender who is from India, but lives in Seattle and works for Microsoft.

Out in Bangalore

There have already been some nights out and surprisingly a lot at that place Spin that I mentioned before. One week there was a conference here sponsored by HP Labs called “Contextual Invention.” The topic was similar to the Doors East Conference (mentioned in the last update). There were these two women presenting. One, Priya, was a designer who is Indian and living in London and then another, Indri, who is German (with Chinese/Indonesian parents). Here they are with Emily (from Oregon), me, Zeenat (works with CKS) at Spin.

An aside—Emily is from Eugene, OR. She was staying Bangalore with an Indian family. The father’s name is Eugene. And, as you know, my dad’s name is Eugene. Too weird!

Nights at IIMB

There is this strange tradition at IIMB when it is someone’s birthday. At midnight, they all meet up at the main meeting area and pick up the guy whose birthday it is and kick him in the butt. And I mean really hard! It seems like torture to me, but this is what they do. One day, it was one of the foreigner’s turn. Fredrik’s birthday was on the 18th of Nov and he was not spared.

Getting his ass kicked

But it doesn’t end there. Then you get chocolate cake smashed all over you. And there is more…Next you get a bucket of water poured over you! So glad it is not my birthday (well, girls do it to girls so it is less harsh). Here is Fredrik after steps one and two with the crowd.

In addition to these activities, there has been a lot of celebrating on campus among the foreigners because they are all leaving. This is the last week for exams. Already a few have left and the rest will depart by Friday. Most are meeting up and travelling together, but to go out with a bang, there have been some parties. We had some good dancing and lots and lots of photo taking. I am not sure why I am showing these because I look particularly yucky, but that is okay. We were all supposed to wear Indian clothes. I even put on a bhindi (or bindi or bindhi—not sure of the spelling), but I don’t think you can see it.

This is Gilles from Brussels. He loved that I had lived there.

I am in between Morton, the Dane, and Fredrik, the Swede.

Me, Lars-another Swede, and Sharon—a Canadian

Here is a group-- Zivile- a Lithuanian who lives in Denmark and will be here for the next 6 months, David- a minister from Montreal, Ian-an Aussie who I will travel with from Xmas to New Year’s when I get back, Fredrik, Sharon, Lars

I didn’t get everyone, but you got the drift. Too bad they are all leaving :( I was lucky because it felt like Brussels again for a bit—being with all these Europeans and such. An aside—the other day someone asked me if I was Dutch!?!? Because of my last name-- (lef) is a Dutch word which means ‘guts’. I laughed so hard to myself b/c of my history with the Dutch and because—do I look Dutch to you???

Fulbrighters in Bangalore- 15 November

Swetha, the woman who is helping out the Fulbrighters in Bangalore called to get everyone together. We actually had had a plan for the following Monday, but a new girl had just arrived so instead we went to a Saturday lunch at the Bangalore Club. This is a club that has been around since the colonial days and is supposed (or was supposed) to be posh. I am not really sure what it is like now. I had actually read about it online coincidently and thought it might be good to join temporarily for the gym and other amenities. However, I don’t know how great it is and it is too expensive. Here we are, minus Mitali who was travelling at the time.

In order from left to right: Lizzy-studying about ayurveda and may be my roommate, Carol-an artist, Swetha, Lindsay-a designer who is looking at ephemeral images (basically travelling around, going to festivals and looking how things are decorated—I think I should have done that!), me, and Adrienne-studying women leaders in the IT industry. It is her first time out of the US!!! Get this—she is on a leave of absence from, none other than…Booz Allen Hamilton (same office!). How crazy is that? Adrienne, Lizzy and I are going to Hampi (a town nearish by here) for the weekend this weekend.

Up to my old tricks

Okay, I think you will find this story particularly amusing. I was shopping with my friend Emily, actually trying to find a tailor to get something made (that is a whole other story), when we wound up in a Kashmiri shop. This is where you find rugs, other handicrafts and the ever-popular pashmina shawl. You can go into one of these shops and ask for the most specific detailed thing and no matter what, without fail, they will ask you if you want a pashmina. It is quite humorous actually.

“Hello, do you have a sandalwood statue of the god Saraswati?” “Would you like a pashmina shawl?” “Hi. I am looking for an Indian miniature of Krishna.” “We have pashmina shawls.” “I need a leather belt with mirrors on it.” “Why don’t you try a pashmina shawl? I give you a good price. It is a festival today.”

Anyway, as we were, in fact, looking at pashmina shawls (hate to admit it)—for my mom, we met this American/Canadian guy in India for work. His name was Hussein and he was of Indian origin, his family was from Gujarat I think. We befriended him, as he was shopping for things for his fiance and he wanted to the advice of two women.

We went across the street to this clothing shop with this amazing Gujarati, beaded outfits. There is a name for them, but I am not sure what it is. Emily and I were trying to direct him to buy a red outfit instead of a gold one, but not sure if we were successful. Because she supposedly had my coloring, we held up the outfits to me. I even tried one on. Here is a photo:

We then went to go grab some dinner at this restaurant/lounge place called Cosmo Village. Well, when we get there we bump into this guy Emily and I knew, Srinath. We met him on our second night out in Bangalore. He is one of those omnipresent people. I have literally bumped into him 3 or 4 times out. We joined him and some of his friends and then all went to sit together to have dinner.

In the meantime, Srinath sees this guy he knows across the room. The guy is a red-headed American who then comes over to our table. His name is Eric and he works for National Geographic. He is with his co-workers who were going the next day on a shoot to record an excorcism in the north! They wind up sitting with us and of course our first comment is—Wow that is so cool you work for National Geographic! I think that must be on the top ten list of overall dream jobs—right beside astronaut. Anyway, Eric is from NY. So, I ask-“Where?” He says, “Westchester.” And we leave it at that.

About 10 minutes later, I start looking at him again. Hmm…
I say, “Where in Westchester?”
“Chappaqua”… I knew this was going somewhere.
“You don’t happen to know Melissa Biren “(a friend from Cornell).
“Yeah, I was good friends with her,” he says.
And I say, “Yeah, I think I remember you from her wedding. “(6 years ago!!!!)
So, my friends, Elizabeth had not lost her touch. In Bangalore for a few weeks and already bumping into friends of friends who I recognize from the street corner sometime in the last decade. Hahahahaha. Everyone at the table was in amazement (but they don't know that this is old hat for me, so...)

Well, about ½ hour later I mention to his friend, Rika (I think that is her name—she is Indian, but I think moving to the US to be with her husband who is living there) that I have a good friend who works at Discovery. Oh yeah, she says, “Who?” “Jim Kowats “(hi Jim!). She starts laughing. She knows him!!! Hahaha.

So, here we have it, not one, but two, yes, two people who I am connected to at this restaurant in Bangalore, India, thousands and thousands of miles away from home.

And the legend lives on….

By the way, I am going to pitch a travel show idea with either Jim or Jeff sometime in the near future. I mean, if someone should have a travel show, shouldn’t it be me? … Just have to come up with an angle, a schtick. I have one idea, but I can’t tell you. :)