Monday, January 28, 2013

The Pink City

     I think Tess and I had had enough lectures for the week, so we decided to take a break and explore the city of Jaipur a little more. Bazaars spread out in all directions amidst the pink/orangish glow of the buildings as if there was a permanent sunrise hanging over the city walls. After a quick cup of coffee at Brewberry's, we caught a rickshaw, just the two of us, and headed to the City Palace. Our driver was quite sweet and acted as our tour guide as he drove us through parts of the city we had already seen. We didn't want to be rude, so we flashed our polished while smiles and nodded vigorously as if we understood everything he said. He lightly shook my hand as we got out. I smiled, said thank you (थैंक यू or Shukria), and parted ways.

Inside the City Palace. 
      We paid the expensive tourist price, र 200 versus the र 15 that the Indians were allowed to pay. The city palace is what truly portrays the "pink city". The light was beautiful. My camera clicked constantly as soft shadows were casted by various railings, lamp posts, and strangers walking by unaware of my typical crouched photographer pose. Tess and I accidentally got split up at one point. She got distracted by a sign that said horses, and I got distracted by a sign that said art. I walked into one section of the palace that housed numerous local artists. I sat down and talked to a painter who had a stunning collection of his family's artwork. He showed me how they utilize a paintbrush made from a squirrel's tail. He then showed me the various blocks of hard clay that turned into different colors of paint once they has been forcefully rubbed on a hard surface. I showed him a few of my sketches, which created this artistic bond. Therefore, we chatted for quite some time until I realized it had been around an hour since I last saw Tess.

Cobras with a cobra. 
     Luckily, she was right outside, sitting in the shade of a tree, and reading a novel recently purchased at the festival. We made our way to the entrance when we came across a snake charmer. This man was adorned in brightly colored clothes, a cherry red turban, and a greasy looking smile. He was old and his wrinkles were prominent on his face. However, he was sweet and welcoming, which of course he knows would increase his profits from the enthusiastic tourists strolling in and out. Seeing as our mascot back in the states is the cobra, we couldn't resist. Yes, I actually got to pet and hold a cobra! Charlotte, a solo traveler from California, kindly took a few photos for us. Outside, we struck up a conversation with her and learned that even though she's married she travels all over the world by herself. She loves it too!

Guards at the City Palace. 
     We said our good byes and headed to the Pearl Palace Hotel. After we got lost a couple of times by wandering down the wrong streets and getting ripped off by a rickshaw driver, we finally made it to our destination for lunch. The Rooftop Peacock Restaurant, mentioned in the wonderful guide book Mom bought me, was located at the top of the Pearl Palace Hotel. It was cool as the breeze came over the roof. Peacock statues were placed randomly all over the restaurant as one might guess. We ate slowly, chatted, read, and enjoyed some inflamed-mouth curing milkshakes for dessert.

    We went to the last debate of the festival at 5:30. The debate was titled "Has Capitalism Lost Its Way?" Being the laid back, free spirit that I am, I may have zoned out a little. Although, the rapid movements of Tess' hand shooting in the air with an eager question every five minutes, kept me alert.

      That night we joined a group of students for a jazz concert at a classy bar near our hotel. The music was enjoyable but definitely not jazz. The fun part was enjoying a drink with the chaperones (wow, I haven't used that word in a long time). They finally opened up and relaxed a little bit. Believe it or not, we are closer to the professors in age than we are the students. As the night carried on into the morning, eight of us packed into a rickshaw and grabbed some much needed dinner. It turned out to be an extremely fun night, one of the best during our entire time in India.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Jaipur Lit Fest continued...

From my journal:

     "As I sit here in a colorful room packed full of avid listeners, I debate the complexities of this morning. Stomach pains. Bird crap on my shoulder. And, the ridiculous honking that would give any normal pedestrian a headache. The tint of everyones' skin has a yellow glow reflecting off the bright shining walls. People grin when the speakers laugh, but are they truly listening? Why are all these people here? Is it to learn about the British and Indian relationships? How James Bond's promiscuous women were developed? To have a brief five minutes of fame as they catch a glimpse of themselves on the big screen while askin g a confusing and irrelevant question to the speaker? Is it find an assumed intellectually stimulating mate? Was it to see the DAli Lama with 1,000 other people crammed under a single tent? The best one could hope for would be to see his cloak as he was quickly ushered off the stage. I really want to know why all of these folks from around the world have come to this literature festival in "the pink city".

     As you can tell, that was not the best morning for me. That's what happens when your stomach can't get used to the Indian food and the idea of a toilet is a far off dream. (Sorry, that was way too graphic.) However, the day turned around for the better. I hid in a cool lecture hall for a few hours, needing time to clear my head. I happened to catch Tess walking across the garden and followed her into another lecture. The next two talks I attended were fantastic. One was in Char Bahr, a brightly colored tent that lit up the entire festival. It was surprisingly cool as the sun beat down through the strands of colored fabric. The talk was titled "Laughing, Weeping, and Writing". Three hilarious speakers wittingly interacted with the audience and moderator. My belly ached with all the gut wrenching laughing, which was definitely a turn around from this morning's pains. A part of each individual novel was read by the corresponding author. (If I had had tons of extra money and room in my suitcase, I would have bought all their books.) The one female speaker, Deborah Moggach, was the author of These Foolish Things, also known as The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. Although I didn't care for the movie, the book is now on my must read list.

     I finished up the afternoon lectures alone at the Google Mughal tent (yes, it does rhyme) listening to "The Elephant Paradigm, the Dragon Paradox". This was more a debate on who would be the next world power, China or India. It was quite interesting, opening my mind to the advances made by those not in the US. Sometimes we we get stuck in our small towns and forget that there are others all over the world making changes, advancing in technology, and helping society as a whole.

     We called it in early for the day and headed back to the hotel to rest. We had a nice dinner at the restaurant Russians with our friend Eugene, and then it was bed time. 

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Jaipur International Literature Festival

Tess and I at JLF.
     I could write pages and pages describing the intricacies of the Jaipur Literature Festival, JLF. I went to so many lectures... and debates... and discussions that even the speakers themselves would start to get confused. I do remember my favorites, and I remember the important thoughts and feelings I had, which I will try to bring to light.


     The first morning found us all excited and extremely chatty, not knowing exactly what was in store. The fest had been built up by the professors, the second year SSLA students, and complete strangers. Apparently, Oprah attended last year inviting the largest crowd the fest had yet to see in the past five years. I wondered who would be the main speaker this year. The butterflies of excitement in my stomach grew in anticipation. I finished a light breakfast of soggy vegetable sandwiches and a wonderful fluffy, if oily, slice of parotta. Due to my college budget, I stuffed a few sandwiches in a ziplock and followed the group outside.


Fashion Street, location of the Bluebird Hotel.
Fashion street looked different in the early morning light. The shops were still closed, painted garage doors shutting out the life that only comes alive in the evenings. A few morning shift workers cleaned the footpaths and entryways to the nicer hotels and restaurants, shaking up the dust that further pollutes the air. But, beyond that newly created cloud, one can see the beauty of the freshly made samosas, the hard work of the vegetable sellers, and the smile of the nonchalant camel that casually strolls by. I smiled, hopped in a packed rickshaw decorated with marigolds hanging from the mirrors, and headed to the JLF at Diggi Palace.
Lyla and Manasvin.

Dubar Hall inside Diggi Palace. 
There were people everywhere, but it didn't take away from the atmosphere, if anything it added to it. It wasn't long before I learned who the keynote speaker would be, the fourteenth Dalai Lama. Hundreds of people worked their way to the front lawns around 12 for the 2:15 lecture. Make sure not to panic or gasp when I tell you, but I headed in the opposite direction. It might be purely selfish not to see someone so prominent in today's society, but I was really interested in another talk about trains in India and Italy, given at the same time. It was a great decision because turned out to be one of my favorite talks during the entire five day festival. I even bought the book, Around India in 80 Trains, by Monisha Rajesh, one of the speakers.

Enjoying the JLF programs. They were a life-savor. 
Monisha was quite entertaining as she read a couple of chapters from her witty memoirs of traveling all over India in various styles of trains. The other speaker was a sarcastic British male who has lived in Italy the past thirty-five years. He answered every question in such a mocking manner; it was hilarious. Surprisingly, there was quite a large crowed in Dubar Hall. All of us mutually avoided the insanely packed circus listening to the ring master cloaked in his burnt orange/red monk garments. As much as I regret hearing him speak, I laughed and learned a lot about train travel. I compared it to my year of riding the Amtrak from Brookhaven to Memphis in highschool. Lost in my memories, I zoned out for the last bit of the session.






Entryway to JLF.
However, so you don't judge us, Tess and I made it to the end of the Dalai Lama's lecture and caught a glance of the infamous peacemaker.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

The Train to Jaipur: Part II


Waiting in the train station in Jaipur.
One of the bazaars.
     All my good friends and family members know not to wake me from a peaceful nap. And, if they do, they definitely know not to play obnoxiously loud and annoyingly squeaky Hindi music at full blast during the wee hours of the morning. Apparently, the man with beady eyes, wearing a too tight plaid polo, and a stupid smirk on his face, did not know this simple fact. No soul-reaching death stare could get him to plug in the headphones inactively hanging around his thick neck. His friend eventually came and took him to another car; however, he had the audacity to come back two hours later. He squeezed himself beside Tess, on our assigned bench, propped his feet up as if he owned the place, unplugged the headphones, and played the boisterous music once more. Maybe he thought I like the repeating resonance of screeching woman, or maybe he thought he would give me a cultural lesson. Whatever his reasoning, I did not hold back my evil stares, hoping with all my might this would help only to be disappointed.
     After a few more hours on the train, some watered down Chai to warm us up in the nippy morning breeze, and some gazing of the northern landscape of India, we pulled into the Jaipur Train Station. Hounded by the steady beats of peoples' feet constantly moving over the various platforms and connecting bridges, the sixty of us gathered together as a startled flock of fainting goats. Not many of the students had been to Jaipur before, and of course it was the first time for the American gang. After almost getting run over by a grouchy man pushing a colossal sized cart full of stuffed potato sacks, we made it into separate cabs. We were transferred to the Bluebird hotel. This was not the original hotel we were meant to stay in, but the other place backed out of the deal with our college. It was quite the bummer because this wasn't the nicest of hotels, probably the equivalent to our amazingly exquisite Red Roof Inn.

     We were placed with a third roommate, Vividha, who we got to know well over the next five days. She is such a sweet, cheerful girl. It took her a while to get used to the fact that we lived in a small room and Tess and I are pretty comfortable changing, in a modest fashion, in front of one another. The first few days when I would walk out of the shower/toilet combination bathroom in a towel, she would bashfully turn her head and cover her eyes. By the end of the week, she was less shy than the two of us. Believe it or not, women look the same all over the world, including India.
     That afternoon we met up with a bunch of girls dying to take us shopping. We split up in different rickshaws knowing we needed the guidance of native speakers. I ended up spending the day with Lubna and Priya, and

I thought these were gorgeous, and they were all over the place.
I'm positive they have Helen and Morgan beat when it comes to shopping and spending money, not the greatest of influences. We looked at every sari shop, which there were more of those on the strip than upset 49er fans after the super bowl. Then, there were bangle bracelet shops that blinded you at every turn, and quilt shops, and shoe shops, and stationary shops, and jewelry shops, and wall hanging shops, and food shops, and purse shops... I think you get my point. I was so turned around by the sheer complexity of the place, the chatter, the painted elephants walking by, I didn't even know where to start.
     I bought some souvenirs, but I mostly enjoyed watching the girls get excited, then act like they weren't excited, and finally haggling the price in half. Spelled phonetically, "Kit nay ki hey," means, "How much is this?" I mastered the pronunciation of this; however, the problem was once I asked the shopkeepers the question in Hindi, they would respond in Hindi, completely destroying my "I-know-what-is-going-on-here-don't-try-to-rip-me-off" attitude. On the other hand, my first trip to a fun yet overwhelming bazaar was still a success.
Lubna and Priya shopping away.
Priya and I in a temple.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Planes, trains, and... camels?


Memoirs of a train journey:

         Everyone was extremely excited for us. The second years at SSLA went to the Jaipur International Literature Fest last year. Many of them had never been on such an interesting train journey before; therefore, they had lots of warnings for us first-timers. Beware the toilets covered in filth. Hide your shoes at night, or they'll be missing in the morning. Don't eat the train food...

Our first Indian train experience. 
         

       I was honestly ecstatic for our first Indian train ride halfway across the entire country. After a tiring and hot bus ride to Mumbai, filled with the screams of numerous excited Indians, we made it to the Mumbai Central train station. Mumbai is a thousand cities packed into one. You know when you have entered the city limits. It’s different than Pune. You can taste it in your mouth and feel it on your skin. It’s the city of “beautiful forevers” and the city of daily nightmares.
        
        Everyone has a purpose in Mumbai, and you don’t want to get in the way of peoples’ final destinations. The platform was packed full of people being herded like cattle through a muddy run. Idling is not allowed, or you’ll be run over by children begging for money, hawkers selling everything from locks and chains to UNO cards, or frazzled travelers just trying to find their seat in order to catch a break.
        
        We found our crowded seats in the second train car, stranded form the rest of the liberal arts college students. The isles of the passenger car were overly congested and narrow, packed full of vendors with loud, crackling voices shouting, “Chai—ee. Chai—ee.” We settled into our bench squished next to a couple of windows. Tess, being slightly taller, had to bend a little to fit under the uncomfortable, nylon made bed above us. I scanned the curious onlookers surrounding us making sure they wouldn’t be the type to swipe my new Tom shoes from under me.

The engineering gang. They brought an entire feast for dinner
and shared some with us. Guess they take the
"don't eat the train food" literally.
        Across from us sat a group from an engineering college in Mumbai. At some point, they asked us for a photograph, breaking the awkward stares from both parties. In all honesty, the color of our skin, the lightness of our eyes, and the reflecting essence of my hair truly makes us stand out as if we are the most astonishing actresses. (I have decided that we are making the tinfoil-alien repelling-hats from The Sixth Sense and wearing them around India. We are never going to fit in, so we might as well have fun with it!)           

      The train trip that night consisted of a card game with our new friends, some interrupted reading, and a lot of mesmerizing the world that whooshed rapidly by. Women in colorful saris slaved away in the fields. A content man in solitude reminisced by the side of a peaceful stream. A little boy waved as the train rushed on to its next target.         
     
      “How often do they see these express trains from Mumbai to Jaipur?” I wondered. In Mumbai alone, seven million people commute daily on trains, all swiftly moving tunnels crammed full of complete strangers.              
      I waved back knowing I’ll be forgotten by the next blonde blur, but I hoped the smile on the boy's face would last longer.        

Captured as the train flew past.
        
      Tess and I were finally moved to Car 1 with the rest of the SSLA group. We chatted and made some new friends. This was our first chance to actually get to know the first years of the college. I had a long conversation with Varundeep, a young student interested in filmmaking. I thought he was going to pass out when I let him hold my new Canon 5D. We stopped at a few more stations. By midnight, the excitement died down and the thought of sleep overtook us all.   
  
       The temperature was dropping as we sped further north; therefore, Tess and I decided to share a two-foot wide bed (or lack of bed, I should say). It was a restless sleep, but I was appreciative of the few hours of dosing I received. Thanks to Morgan’s gift of a Delta Skybucks blowup pillow, I was quite comfortable. Besides the occasional growling man above us, I was able to keep my closed till the sun began to rise. 




Thursday, January 17, 2013

The Unexpected

So, here's an interesting story to freak out everyone at home. Note, this only happened once and it really wasn't as bad as I'm going to describe it.

It was late on a Thursday afternoon. The sun was setting and a cool breeze came over the city as it does at every dusk. Evening is the most pleasant time in Pune. The honking dies down, the sun stops roasting everyone, and the smells from the numerous restaurants and street venders overtakes the air. Tess and I debated eating out on this gorgeous evening when one of the Germans invited us to go to his favorite restaurant, Baba's. How could we pass up an invitation to a place called Baba's? (For those of you who don't know, the grandmother of Surf Church where Tess and I attend in Bristol is named Bobba. Every Sunday after church, the entire gang goes over to Bobba's to eat a fantastic meal. So, you can see why we had to go and see the Indian version of Bobba's/Baba's.) 

Always being followed.
These kids break your heart.
It was dark when we headed to Baba's. It was only a few blocks away and down a side street. Baba's seemed like a pretty relaxed restaurant. You sit outside under a large awning. There were many people eating, enjoying the company of friends, and laughing. I figured that was a good enough sign. The six of us piled around a table and made ourselves comfortable. A young waiter came up and began to set the table with the water, extra plates, and the onion and pickle platter (Trust me, I still haven't figured out what these are for yet). He was kind and smiled, but you could tell this was the largest number of white people he has ever seen at one time. 

We all ordered a massive amount of food. The two boys, Emanuel from Portugal and Jeff from Germany, always end up with a ton of food for themselves. We learned a lot about Portugal and why Emanuel had decided to study law in Germany and India. Jeff is a little older and wiser. He is also studying law here in India. I believe both of them are almost done with school altogether. Melisa and Maggie, from New York, are such entertaining characters. They make us laugh a lot. The conversation was fun as always.

Vegetable Thali.
When the food finally arrived, we devoured it. Tess and I split a vegetable thali (taa-lee) dish. Steam rose up from the deliciously smelling pile of food. The tray comes with little silver bowls each filled with a different type of sauce or vegetable creation. Fresh roti (a type of flat bread and my absolute favorite) was brought out for us to eat with the vegetables. It all smelled and tasted heavenly. My tongue has gotten used to the spices, so I can actually enjoy my food now. 

As dinner came to an end, we were all caught off guard. Yelling came from our right. I wasn't sure what was going on and looked at Tess with a confused expression. Two police officers decked out in the brown uniforms came in screaming in Marathi, the language of the state of Maharashtra. Next thing we know, the lights were turned off, the kitchen staff pulled down the metal doors, and everyone turned silent. We all gave each other terrified looks. Not one of us knew what was going on in the restaurant. The officers continued to speak frantically. No one seemed to answer them. Soon, two young waiters were escorted off the deck. Then, they were forced into a large truck packed full of men of all ages. One policeman came back up in search of something else. Not finding anything, he hopped onto the truck and pulled away. The two young boys, apparently criminals of some sort, smiled largely as the truck rolled into the distance. Our hearts were all beating loudly as we attempted to laugh off the entire circumstance. One of the girls with us was beginning to break out in hives because of her nervousness. 

We asked for our check and sorted out the money in the dark. The owner came up with a flashlight so we could see the bill. Quickly, we booked it out of the restaurant, thankful nothing else happened. Once we were far enough away, we all let out deep breaths and multiple, "OH MY GOSH!" 

Honestly, we were safe the entire time. Personally, I wasn't even that nervous. It was another adventure in a strange country. However, I am very thankful this has never happened at our "Bobba's" back at home!

(Just so you know... The germans have gone back to Baba's many times since that night. The place is running fine and there are no other suspicious activities occurring.)  

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Two Week Update

It's hard to believe that we have been in India for two weeks already. Time really does fly by. For all those who didn't want us to leave, we'll be back before you know it. The good thing is we will have many stories and memories to share.

I'm going to do a brief summary of the past two weeks since we met with the other KEI study abroad participants. While we were still in Mumbai, we ventured to the Gateway of India overlooking the Arabian Sea. The monument was erected to commemorate the arrival of King George V and Queen Mary.

Wellington Pier (formerly known as Apollo Bunder).
 The Gateway is the arch on the right. 
We got our picture taken as a group and then hopped on a ferry to Elephanta Island. The ferry ride took about an hour each way. It was a gorgeous, sunny day (as most days in India), and we all got a little sunburned. Once we got off the boat, we began a long walk/hike to the caves. Elephanta Island (also known as demon monkey island to our friends we met in Mumbai) is the home of the Elephanta Caves, a UNESCO world heritage site. The Hindu caves contain rock cut stone sculptures representing and honoring the god Shiva, the Destroyer. I guess the reason they called it demon monkey island is due to the fact that monkeys are scouring the entire place looking for food handouts from all the tourists. (To be honest, this was the first place where we finally saw other white folks.) Tess made friends with one of the monkeys until he began growling at her. She should have known the friendship wouldn't have lasted long without food. The way into a guys heart is through his belly! We walked around the caves for a while embracing the history of our surroundings. One of the workers in the caves gave us a free tour of the different sculptures. He was adamant about the fact that the Portuguese used them as target practices; therefore, most of the sculptures are missing arms and/or legs.

Depictions of the god, Shiva, dating
back to the 5th century.
Tess and her, not so close, monkey friend.
That afternoon, we walked through a large market in Mumabi. Venders hassled us left and right. I guess being a college student on a college budget doesn't mean much to them. They believe every foreign person is rich. I was still exhausted from being sick the day before, and everyone else had jet lag. Therefore, we made a quick stop by a bustling train station and headed back to the hotel to sleep.
We have now spent a week in Pune (poo-na). Pune is a fantastic city. It's cleaner and less crowded than Mumbai. However, catching a rickshaw here is much more difficult. The drivers don't use the meter at night, so you have to bargain. If they don't like your price, they'll just sit there starring at you while you frantically search for another rickshaw. Since we've been traveling in large groups, it's been so difficult getting places. Tess and I end up walking most of the time. It's better exercise, we save money, and there's no hassle. 

We are studying at the Symbiosis School of Liberal Arts (SSLA). It is a branch of Symbiosis International University. Believe it or not, we actually found a college smaller than VI. It has a total of 135 students including the seven of us. The good thing is the entire college is located on the 11th floor of the building. I live on the tenth floor. So, I guess you could say I get my morning workout by walking up one whole flight of stairs! It's nice though and the classes seem like they are going to be interesting. I am slowly making friends with the Indian students. They are all so sweet but a little shy around us. It's funny, the Indians have no sense of personal space. They shove in lines, jump to the front, and stand as close to you as possible in the elevator. However, when it comes to talking, they lack conversational skills. I'm sure they'll come around when they are more comfortable with us. A few of the girls are amazing though. I'm still trying to learn how to pronounce their names correctly. I got Lyla and Mannasa (man-a-saw) down... I think. 

I am enrolled in four classes here (and I'm taking two more online for VI). The classes include: Hindi for beginners, Comprehending India: The Living Past, Film Studies, and Oops: Objects Out of Place. We haven't started Hindi yet, but I think I am most excited about that one. I never really wanted to learn Hindi before, but at this point I just want to learn any language. Next on my list is German and maybe Russian. I like my teachers... Well, I've only actually met one of them at this point. Things really are more relaxed here. Life is easy going and carefree, something I truly needed. I've spent most of the days in Pune catching up on breathing and sleeping. Yes, you might say I've been lazy, but I just can't help it. Although, I do have plans for this weekend to venture out and see old relics around Pune. I also plan on shooting a lot more in the next two weeks. We have a marvelous trip planned to Jaipur, Agra, and Delhi next week that I am thrilled about! 

Enough for now. I plan on going into a few details of some of the crazier events tomorrow. Check in for more later. 

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

An Indian Hangover

Memoirs from January 2nd - 4th

While in Mumbai, we did a lot of exploring of the city and the culture. Our first rickshaw ride was an adventure as previously mentioned. We met wonderful Americans who answered all of our questions about living in India as a stranger. We ate spicy food we didn't expect to be that spicy. And, we spent an entire day not being able to move.

We had two wonderful dinners two nights in a row. As we were eating at Masalazone, a girl named Allison who volunteered for Oasis, an NGO that helped women in the sex trafficking industry, asked for regular water. This is water at nice restaurants that has already been filtered. Seeing as she was from the States and could handle this water, I figured we would be safe. No worries, right?

The conversation at dinner was light and entertaining. There was 14 of us gathered around the table laughing and chatting up a storm. The food was delicious. One of the Indians, Ravi, ordered all types of chicken and mutton for the entire table. (Of course, Tess received a vegetarian option.) After dinner, we split up from the group and gave them hugs goodbye. Hopefully, the next time we are in Mumbai we can meet with them again (they were not apart of our study abroad group). Ravi took us back to the hotel where we crashed by 23:00. I slept for twelve straight hours that night. It was absolutely wonderful. The next day Tess and I relaxed at the hotel. We ventured out for lunch at a small cafe. We didn't want to get sick so we figured rest and sleep would be the best option. That night we had a fantastic dinner on the rooftop of our hotel at their restaurant, The Cafe. Once again, the waitress asked us if we wanted regular water. I assumed we were fine from the previous dinner, therefore it would be okay to drink the filtered, purified water. Oh boy, was I wrong!

The next morning I began to stir around 4. My stomach was aching all over. I tried to go to the bathroom but nothing. It hurt so bad! I don't how to describe the pain to you. You know when you take a fork and stab it into a plate of spaghetti? After you grab hold of a sizable portion of noodles, you begin to twist the fork over and over again so the noodles become tightly wound around the cold silver prongs. Well... That's what it felt like someone was doing to all the internal organs inside my belly. My best friend that morning, since Tess was asleep, was the annoyingly cooing pigeon outside our bathroom window. He kept me company as I hugged the commode every twenty minutes. Once Tess awoke, we realized we were both in major pain. Neither of us could stand and pack our bags for more than five minutes at a time. I had no energy. I couldn't stand, walk, or move.

Our director in India, Gokul, came to pick us up at 10:15. It took every ounce of energy I still had left in me to get our few bags down to the bottom floor. I almost hurled in the elevator. The smells and heat of the outside just made the matter worse. Gokul realized something was not right and took us straight to the hotel we would be staying in with the other international students. However, the ride to the Holiday Inn was horrible and long. As I explained earlier, the Indian traffic is ridiculous. Loud honks. Constant starting and stopping. I made myself pass out in the backseat in order to not puke in the clean, hired car. Once we got to our new room, we spent the next twenty-four hours cooped up in hopes of getting better. I hadn't eaten anything since the night before when dinner time rolled around. I was able to stomach a milkshake and some bread. Then, I slept the entire night.

Luckily, we had enough energy to tour Mumbai with the group the next day. I was able to keep down food and even do a lot of walking. We went to the Gateway to India, Elephanta Caves, and some large markets. My only advice... When people say don't drink the water... DON'T DRINK THE WATER! It felt like the worst hangover in the world. The sad part is we didn't even have any alcoholic beverages!

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Incredible

Absolutely Incredible.

We actually managed to survive our first day in Mumbai/Bombay, the fourth most populous city in the world. Mumbai is huge! Picture Manhattan in your mind then multiply that by five and you have Mumbai. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mumbai)

Before I left, numerous people were telling me scary things about the city. Don't drink the water. Watch out for bombers. Pickpocketing is awful there. Don't be out at night. Don't travel alone. Don't eat raw food. Make sure to be aware of everything around you. Don't make eye contact with any of the men.

I mean seriously? No wonder I was a mess the week before I left. I was honestly freaking out, and sadly my Mom had to be a witness to it all. Thank goodness she was able to stay calm when I wasn't (not sure what I would have done without her help). And yes, all this advice was taken literally. I am paying attention to the water, food, and my surroundings. However, the dangerous connotations mentioned previously are not portrayed in the daily living in India.

The people are wonderful and helpful (although they do stare a lot. I think it's because we are white, but my Mom would say it's because Tess and I are beautiful). The smells, although overwhelming, are not the worst things in the world. The food.. Oh my goodness.. the food. It is amazing! As soon as my body and stomach settle, it will be much harder to lose that extra fifteen here. Yesterday, we met with a mixed group of people. Some from OK, MI, OH, Asia, India, and Singapore. (They are all here for different reasons, and we are very grateful to have met them. Plus, they willingly answered my five hundred questions on India). They took us to an easy-going restaurant called Candies. I had a Malai Chicken Rotti. Believe it or not, they do eat a lot of meat here. However, the multiple vegetarian options excite Tess. They are definitely more plentiful than the options at the VI dining hall. After lunch, we finally made it back to our hotel, The Executive Enclave, to take showers. They were much needed after many days of travel and wandering around the hot streets of Mumbai.

Fresh and ready to head out, we decided to meet the gang for a movie. Although we never made it to the movie because it was sold out, Tess and I got to experience our very first rickshaw ride! If you don't know what a rickshaw is, you must click this link (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auto_rickshaw). I hate to admit this because I want to say a "culture change" was the reason we chose India. However, the real reason was the auto rickshaw. We googled it months ago and thought they were the most spectacular inventions. Needless to say, they are tons of fun. You get turned around a lot. You have to pull over and ask random walkers directions. You think you are going to hit or get hit every five seconds. Yet, they are incredible! The drivers are not the most educated citizens; therefore, they do not speak much English. Most of the time they act like they know where they are going. Once they realize they don't, they turn around and ask you. That doesn't help us since this is our first time in this metropolis. Getting lost honestly makes this adventure more exciting.

Another thing about Mumbai is the noise. It is constant. Honking is not the same in India as it is in the United States. In the US, you utilize your horn as a form of cursing so that the person can actually hear you. (You might be shaking your head as you read this, but that means you are in denial). On the other hand, in India, honking is simply a form of letting the other  rickshaws, cars, bikes, and/or jaywalkers know you are coming so get out of the way. Our first rickshaw driver absolutely loved the horn. Even when he was fifteen feet from another rickshaw, he would blare the horn. It was quite amusing so I made Tess take a video with her phone (I would have done it with mine.... but, that is a sad story). Besides the yacking rickshaws, there are construction workers, engines, a few sirens, and loud bangs that occur every twenty minutes or so. I would say the noise is annoying, but I was prepared for the unexpected. It just comes with the territory.

The one thing I am excited about India is the fact that I truly believe it will help with my over reacting and over analyzing. All of those who know me, know this is a big weakness of mine. So, why not go to a country where over reacting won't help you and over analyzing will take too long? I guess we will see where I am in five months!