Thursday, July 3, 2008
Back in the USA
So I'm back. I got back to Seattle on the 24th. Flew to New York on the 26th. Now I've explored Manhattan with Maggie. We've spent a couple days in the Hamptons together at the old beach house, reliving many memories. And now I'm upstate seeing family and friends.
It's been and continues to be weird returning to American culture (or lack thereof). I feel insecure in a fast moving car, it doesn't break enough, the constant momentum and speed makes me feel like we are out of control. I cross streets without looking, without hearing any honking I feel no need to check my surroundings.
The city was the easiest. And I got to go dancing! Maggie came with me which was wonderful. We went to a fantastic salsa dance one night at Club 412, which is a converted dance studio. Turns out I can still dance, even after 3 months of no partnership, though I'm definitely behind. It was scary but if felt great to be back on the floor. And the next night we went to a Milonga and I recalled the steps of tango, but I'm really rusty.
I'm putting up some lower quality versions of my better pictures on my picasa account.
Please enjoy:
http://picasaweb.google.com/ZyanyaKB
I could write so much more about my last week of travels, about returning, etc. but I believe my blog is done. The rest will have to be self reflection and personal memories.
However, I am planning to organize a dinner/slideshow of my trip and work in Kumaon. It will also be a fundraiser for CHIRAG. If you want more info, email me.
Thanks for reading, I've enjoyed writing my entries. This was an experiment for me on this trip and I'm very pleased with the outcome.
Much love. Namascar,
Zyanya
It's been and continues to be weird returning to American culture (or lack thereof). I feel insecure in a fast moving car, it doesn't break enough, the constant momentum and speed makes me feel like we are out of control. I cross streets without looking, without hearing any honking I feel no need to check my surroundings.
The city was the easiest. And I got to go dancing! Maggie came with me which was wonderful. We went to a fantastic salsa dance one night at Club 412, which is a converted dance studio. Turns out I can still dance, even after 3 months of no partnership, though I'm definitely behind. It was scary but if felt great to be back on the floor. And the next night we went to a Milonga and I recalled the steps of tango, but I'm really rusty.
I'm putting up some lower quality versions of my better pictures on my picasa account.
Please enjoy:
http://picasaweb.google.com/ZyanyaKB
I could write so much more about my last week of travels, about returning, etc. but I believe my blog is done. The rest will have to be self reflection and personal memories.
However, I am planning to organize a dinner/slideshow of my trip and work in Kumaon. It will also be a fundraiser for CHIRAG. If you want more info, email me.
Thanks for reading, I've enjoyed writing my entries. This was an experiment for me on this trip and I'm very pleased with the outcome.
Much love. Namascar,
Zyanya
Friday, June 20, 2008
I make you happy happy
With a view of the magnificent Taj I order breakfast on the roof top of my hotel in Agra.
"Sir, I'll have a stuffed paratha with curd and chai please."
"Yes madam. Paratha is chapati, you know chapati? Chapati with potato insice."
"Yes, I know." (This information would have been welcomed 3 months ago, but now after having eaten chapati every day for 12 weeks I find it irritating). "I'll have paratha please, and curd."
"Yes, yes, curd means yoghurt."
"Yes, yes. Thank you." I was afraid he would tell me chai meant tea next.
"Ok, madam. What would you like for breakfast?"
AHHHHH. I miss the Indians who just don't speak english. The cities are draining with the constant badgering from rickshaws, "tour guides" and vendors.
There is something to be said though to the fact that I seem to manage to shake them off far faster then fellow tourists, especially those that are new to India. It's a good feeling I guess, to know that I am recognized for knowing my way around and have confidence in my "no."
"Sir, I'll have a stuffed paratha with curd and chai please."
"Yes madam. Paratha is chapati, you know chapati? Chapati with potato insice."
"Yes, I know." (This information would have been welcomed 3 months ago, but now after having eaten chapati every day for 12 weeks I find it irritating). "I'll have paratha please, and curd."
"Yes, yes, curd means yoghurt."
"Yes, yes. Thank you." I was afraid he would tell me chai meant tea next.
"Ok, madam. What would you like for breakfast?"
AHHHHH. I miss the Indians who just don't speak english. The cities are draining with the constant badgering from rickshaws, "tour guides" and vendors.
There is something to be said though to the fact that I seem to manage to shake them off far faster then fellow tourists, especially those that are new to India. It's a good feeling I guess, to know that I am recognized for knowing my way around and have confidence in my "no."
Welcome back to Delhi
I wake up and the sun is up. Everyone is moving. I ask and yes, we're finally in "Dilli."
I take my time gathering my pack and bag, adjusting my money belt, and making sure I am clear minded before I step off the bus. It's 5:15 am and I have 2 hours before the "Taj Express" leaves for Agra from the Hazrat Nizmuddin Train station. I want an auto rickshaw to get me there immediately. I want as much extra time to find my train as possible, because as I've learned extra time can quickly become no time in India. An auto approaches, I ask how much to the station. 150 rupees. A rip-off. Arman warned me not to pay more than 100 rps for this ride, and that is still a westerners' price. I'm not terribly keen on bargaining right now and I want to leave quickly.
"90" I say.
"No madam. 150. Very good price, 10 kilometers, good price."
The men that were on my bus gather around to haggle for me, but the driver insists on 150.
"90" I say again.
"Madam, 150, good morning price. Early, good morning price." He gestures around to the lack of people, as though his presence is fortunate enough.
"You're right." I smile, "Good morning price. Look, do you see any other tourists, westerners around? It's 5am. I walk away, you take Hindustani, 20 rupees. Or I stay you get 90."
"120, good price."
"90."
"Ok, 100 madam."
"90."
"Ok madam, 90."
I turn to my fellow bus passengers, they look impressed, I wink.
Victory! I just saved $1.50
Now I'm at the station with a blessed stress free hour to kill with some nourishment (I hadn't eaten dinner) and chai (I didn't really sleep). In 4 hours I'll be in Agra, home to the Taj Mahal. I'm so excited. I love traveling by myself!
Though I have to admit, when I woke up on the bus I expected to find Arman next to me, ready for our next adventure.
I take my time gathering my pack and bag, adjusting my money belt, and making sure I am clear minded before I step off the bus. It's 5:15 am and I have 2 hours before the "Taj Express" leaves for Agra from the Hazrat Nizmuddin Train station. I want an auto rickshaw to get me there immediately. I want as much extra time to find my train as possible, because as I've learned extra time can quickly become no time in India. An auto approaches, I ask how much to the station. 150 rupees. A rip-off. Arman warned me not to pay more than 100 rps for this ride, and that is still a westerners' price. I'm not terribly keen on bargaining right now and I want to leave quickly.
"90" I say.
"No madam. 150. Very good price, 10 kilometers, good price."
The men that were on my bus gather around to haggle for me, but the driver insists on 150.
"90" I say again.
"Madam, 150, good morning price. Early, good morning price." He gestures around to the lack of people, as though his presence is fortunate enough.
"You're right." I smile, "Good morning price. Look, do you see any other tourists, westerners around? It's 5am. I walk away, you take Hindustani, 20 rupees. Or I stay you get 90."
"120, good price."
"90."
"Ok, 100 madam."
"90."
"Ok madam, 90."
I turn to my fellow bus passengers, they look impressed, I wink.
Victory! I just saved $1.50
Now I'm at the station with a blessed stress free hour to kill with some nourishment (I hadn't eaten dinner) and chai (I didn't really sleep). In 4 hours I'll be in Agra, home to the Taj Mahal. I'm so excited. I love traveling by myself!
Though I have to admit, when I woke up on the bus I expected to find Arman next to me, ready for our next adventure.
Valley of Flowers
June 13th.
I find my inspiration to write from the flies.
The valley is beautiful, the flowers are gorgeous. The diversity of flies is really quite amazing.
Mana called to my environmentalist nature, the grandeur and remoteness evoked questions of climate change and such. Here in the Valley of Flowers, though I am still surrounded by mountains, glaciers, and waterfalls, it is each unique and completely endemic species I am witnessing that draws my attention, calling to my inner ecologist :)
The flies represent the many needed pollinators to complete the grand task of ensuring that each year the valley will maintain UNESCO World Heritage status for its carpets of wild flowers.
I find my inspiration to write from the flies.
The valley is beautiful, the flowers are gorgeous. The diversity of flies is really quite amazing.
Mana called to my environmentalist nature, the grandeur and remoteness evoked questions of climate change and such. Here in the Valley of Flowers, though I am still surrounded by mountains, glaciers, and waterfalls, it is each unique and completely endemic species I am witnessing that draws my attention, calling to my inner ecologist :)
The flies represent the many needed pollinators to complete the grand task of ensuring that each year the valley will maintain UNESCO World Heritage status for its carpets of wild flowers.
climate change and more...
June 11th.
What seems like an eternal supply of water pours down 400ft in 2 waterfalls behind me. The river passes swiftly below me, channeling between the mountains, fed by various glaciers.
The sheer size and immensity of this landscape, the cliffs, peaks, valleys, meadows, makes it feel endless, infinite. Yet I wonder, how much larger were these glaciers 50 years ago? How much louder were these waterfalls?
We've hiked past Mana, the last human habitation on this route north into Uttarakhand. Here we are in true wilderness. From this point north it is only mountains and what ever biodiversity has found ways to survive this harsh habitat. 60km north is the Chinese/Tibet border.
Yet despite the lack of human existence I can't help questions, what this ecosystem will experience in the next 50 years, 100years. Human presence is no longer physically required to impact the last remaining places we call wilderness on our, now, small Earth. Creating parks and building fences can no longer provide relief. So... now what?
Lately, I've been saying I'm fed up with the USA. I'm ready for a break from the society, politics and I'm tired of how the US is being run. I feel I could easily move somewhere in Europe. But if I'm fed up with how the Earth is being managed I can't just pack up and move...
So I'm here. And ready to make a difference, or at least try. Where do I start?
What seems like an eternal supply of water pours down 400ft in 2 waterfalls behind me. The river passes swiftly below me, channeling between the mountains, fed by various glaciers.
The sheer size and immensity of this landscape, the cliffs, peaks, valleys, meadows, makes it feel endless, infinite. Yet I wonder, how much larger were these glaciers 50 years ago? How much louder were these waterfalls?
We've hiked past Mana, the last human habitation on this route north into Uttarakhand. Here we are in true wilderness. From this point north it is only mountains and what ever biodiversity has found ways to survive this harsh habitat. 60km north is the Chinese/Tibet border.
Yet despite the lack of human existence I can't help questions, what this ecosystem will experience in the next 50 years, 100years. Human presence is no longer physically required to impact the last remaining places we call wilderness on our, now, small Earth. Creating parks and building fences can no longer provide relief. So... now what?
Lately, I've been saying I'm fed up with the USA. I'm ready for a break from the society, politics and I'm tired of how the US is being run. I feel I could easily move somewhere in Europe. But if I'm fed up with how the Earth is being managed I can't just pack up and move...
So I'm here. And ready to make a difference, or at least try. Where do I start?
Mana
Wow, wow, wooooowwww.
I...
it's...
um.
alright, it's indescribable. Tacky, but true.
I'm in a National Geographic film. I'm on an expedition except without the expedition. It's like I'm on the front cover...
The most I can do to describe where I am is to show pictures, but I don't think they do justice.
These are BFM (Big F***ing Mountains) and I'm in them, in the northern most village, Mana, at the end of the road (literally), in a homestay with the village leader who is one of the coolest, most hospitable men I've ever met.
I'm next to mountain glaciers, rivers, incredible peaks, fields of medicinal herbs, waterfalls...
I'm at 11,000ft elevation.
It took me 2 full days of buses and shared jeeps to get to Badrinath, then we walked the last 3km into Mana.
I could easily be in northern Nepal or Tibet.
I don't think there is anywhere more beautiful in India.
I must say, I am quite proud of myself for my travel plans. And eternally grateful to Ashish for arranging for me to stay with Pitambar.
I...
it's...
um.
alright, it's indescribable. Tacky, but true.
I'm in a National Geographic film. I'm on an expedition except without the expedition. It's like I'm on the front cover...
The most I can do to describe where I am is to show pictures, but I don't think they do justice.
These are BFM (Big F***ing Mountains) and I'm in them, in the northern most village, Mana, at the end of the road (literally), in a homestay with the village leader who is one of the coolest, most hospitable men I've ever met.
I'm next to mountain glaciers, rivers, incredible peaks, fields of medicinal herbs, waterfalls...
I'm at 11,000ft elevation.
It took me 2 full days of buses and shared jeeps to get to Badrinath, then we walked the last 3km into Mana.
I could easily be in northern Nepal or Tibet.
I don't think there is anywhere more beautiful in India.
I must say, I am quite proud of myself for my travel plans. And eternally grateful to Ashish for arranging for me to stay with Pitambar.
Road-side Entertainment
I haven't seen a single proper speed limit sign in India in the past 3 months, however I've thoroughly enjoyed their signs to encourage safe driving...
They always provide a smile on long rides.
(Any typos are original, not mine)
"Speed thrills, but kills."
"Sink zone ahead, DDRIVE CAUTIOUSLY" (what's a sink zone?)
"Your care is appreciciciated."
"Drink and drive, dangerous cocktail."
"Drinking whiskey is risky."
"Better late than never."
"Thanks."
"BRO wishes you a safe drive." (BRO = Border and Road Organization, but it's funnier when you don't know this.)
"If married, divorce speed."
"Speed slowly."
"Life is Journey, Complete it."
"Safety Saves."
"Use your head or lose your head, where a helmet."
They always provide a smile on long rides.
(Any typos are original, not mine)
"Speed thrills, but kills."
"Sink zone ahead, DDRIVE CAUTIOUSLY" (what's a sink zone?)
"Your care is appreciciciated."
"Drink and drive, dangerous cocktail."
"Drinking whiskey is risky."
"Better late than never."
"Thanks."
"BRO wishes you a safe drive." (BRO = Border and Road Organization, but it's funnier when you don't know this.)
"If married, divorce speed."
"Speed slowly."
"Life is Journey, Complete it."
"Safety Saves."
"Use your head or lose your head, where a helmet."
Travels
So a lot has happened in the last 2 weeks of travel. I'm not going to attempt to catch up with them here, but enter a couple of my journal entries. You'll just have to come to my fund raising dinner to here more stories in July...
But the schedule has been:
2 days to get up to Mana/Badrinath.
1 day in Mana
1 day to get to Gangria via 13km trek from Govingat
1 day to see Valley of Flowers
2 days walking/busing to get to Rishikesh (including sleeping in Sikh Gudwara for the night)
2 nights/days in Rishikesh resting b/c of bad cold
Evening in Haridwar with a crazy motorcycle ride through the city.
Night bus to Delhi- Morning train to Agra.
1 night in Agra, saw Taj Mahal in the morning, bus to Jaipur in the afternoon.
Now 4 nights in Jaipur to provide:
rest, shopping, mani/pedicure, facial, henna, and a day trip to Pushkar.
Then I bus back to Delhi on the 23rd for my flight that night.
But the schedule has been:
2 days to get up to Mana/Badrinath.
1 day in Mana
1 day to get to Gangria via 13km trek from Govingat
1 day to see Valley of Flowers
2 days walking/busing to get to Rishikesh (including sleeping in Sikh Gudwara for the night)
2 nights/days in Rishikesh resting b/c of bad cold
Evening in Haridwar with a crazy motorcycle ride through the city.
Night bus to Delhi- Morning train to Agra.
1 night in Agra, saw Taj Mahal in the morning, bus to Jaipur in the afternoon.
Now 4 nights in Jaipur to provide:
rest, shopping, mani/pedicure, facial, henna, and a day trip to Pushkar.
Then I bus back to Delhi on the 23rd for my flight that night.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
By the way...
This is our view from Sonopani:
(Photo by my roommate, Amity, who has a better camera than me.)
The Peak is Nanda Devi, the largest mountain in India.
My pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.com/ZyanyaKB/IndiaGeneral
(Photo by my roommate, Amity, who has a better camera than me.)
The Peak is Nanda Devi, the largest mountain in India.
My pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.com/ZyanyaKB/IndiaGeneral
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
I went back.
June 1st.
I’ve come back to Radha’s family for 1 more night with them. I’ve missed them at Sonopani. They all told me they missed me. I spent my first 2 hours back with the kids. I can’t tell exactly if it’s me or my camera they adore more but I’ll take the attention either way. Jagdamba and Garima insist on serving me lunch even though I had just eaten lunch at CHIRAG before I came. It’s impossible to refuse politely so I accept. However, when they bring me out a plate with a heaping pile of fried rice for my 2nd lunch today, I know what to do. I must return half of it immediately because once I’ve touched it anything I don’t eat will be tossed. I make a fuss of it being too much and they allow me to put some on another plate. Now I just must be careful when I finish. A precarious game ensews of them trying to sneak more food on my plate. As long as I keep my plate with me until the kids are finished I’m safe. This time I win, next time I may not be so lucky. Though I don’t complain, the food is delicious. The ingredients are relatively limited and simple, yet the flavor they achieve cooking over a wood fire is incredible.
I sense a stress amongst the 2 women home and when Radha returns I am sure I am right. She is so happy to see me and I her. We embrace and chat. However, soon the neighbors come by and several women gather around Radha asking her questions. She is telling a story with the words “medical report” and “doctor.” I ask if everything is ok, she says yes. I don’t want to push the topic. However, a while later when she is clearly distracted and seems stressed I ask again, she tells me her borther Trilok fell from a tree this morning. Her and her mother brought him to the Mukteshwar clinic. He’s gashed his head, face, arm, and leg. I haven’t been able to understand how serious the injuries are, but he is suppose to return tonight, so I guess I will see for myself then.
Radha’s father died a while back from a heartattack. It is difficult for a family to survive here without a head of household. Trilok has assumed the responsibilities of this role, though not the position, for the family. I’m imagining Radha is reflecting on the loss of her father.
This is a very united family. Each member works very hard for thw hole and they support eachother unconditionally, it is essential to their wellbeing. I’ve seen several families here now, and I can sense a very strong bond and love in this family in particular.
-----
The women and I have spent a good hour examining an American $1 and $5 bill I brought, along with several pictures of my parents and I. They comment that mom and dad look “smart.” Sometimes the British influence really shows…
-----
Trilok has returned, somehow he managed to get into bed facing the wall without me noticing. I can’t see anything Radha as made a home remedy for his wounds. He lies completely still.
The family I knew to be always laughing is mostly silent. I can feel the stress, mourning, and concern infesting the household. I feel like an intruder on the families grief. Radha’s mother is ranting to Govind. It’s an endless speech, clearly full of resent and frustrations. I hear “pani” (water) a lot, I imagine she’s listing all their hardships and saying, “and now this, why this?…” She clears her throat and continues. Govind, holding a sleeping Kushi listens obediently with mounting stress etching across his forehead. 5 min, 10 min, 20, 40… she speaks for an hour. Radha serves tea. With everything happening Radha stil asks me. “Is it too sweet?” “It’s perfect.” I reply.
Trilok sits up to take some tea but faces the wall. I can make out a bandage around his head and a patched eye. I’m praying he recovers quickly and send a text to the group to let them know of the accident. We need Neosporin and a get-well card.
It’s getting dark and the family has resumed boxing peaches to bring to the road. They constuct crates from planks of wood they purchase, then pack them with peaches, newspaper and pineneedles, and nail them shut. Each crate is painted to indicate quality, quantity, and seller. I notice 2 different sizes of boxes. Radha says the smaller size is top quality, the larger box is medium. The boxes weigh about 6 and 14 kilos, respectively, when full.
It’s dark now and various family members take the boxes to the road. 10 year old Rajul carries a 6 kilo box on his head. Radha carries about 20 kilos of peaches on her head up the path that always puts me out of breath without carrying anything. I don’t follow them because I would fall and surely sprain my ankle trying to walk up this path in the dark. I sheepishly return to the house to watch Daviki wash the mud floor with water. I’m confused as to the purpose of this since the floor is a dry dirt and dung mixture, why get it wet?
The peaches they leave on the road will be picked up by large blue transport trucks who will then drop the boxes with distributors in the town of Haldwani, from there they will be sold around the country. The family makes 25rps for each smaller box, 30 rps ($0.75) for the larger ones. I ask Redha how many boxes of peaches they make in a year. She estimates 60-80. I estimate the family brings in about 2000rps in 1 year from peach production (their main crop), minus any costs for pesticides, crates, etc. That is $50. I’ve paid 150rps ($4) per night I’ve stayed here, that is nearly 10% of their profit, per night.
The first time I stayed here I expected a small struggle with Rdha to allow me to pay for staying, however I encountered none. Now I understand, they really need the money. I had though they live a modest/poor life but get by with what they have as long as they work hard to maximize farm output. Now I see that they work hard to maximize output and it is barely enough. I’m amazed Radha manages to go to University in Almora, I can’t express how much I admire her.
I’m sitting in the kitchen writing. Walking in here chokes me from the smoke. But I’ve learned that if I sit down quickly it won’t bother me as much.
They eat dinner later here, though in the case of Radha’s family this seems more out of necessity then tradition. The women are working up until 8 or so, when they can not longer see in the dim light, and that is when they begin to prepare the food. Everyone is in bed by about 11pm and they rise to start another day at about 5:30am.
I’ve come back to Radha’s family for 1 more night with them. I’ve missed them at Sonopani. They all told me they missed me. I spent my first 2 hours back with the kids. I can’t tell exactly if it’s me or my camera they adore more but I’ll take the attention either way. Jagdamba and Garima insist on serving me lunch even though I had just eaten lunch at CHIRAG before I came. It’s impossible to refuse politely so I accept. However, when they bring me out a plate with a heaping pile of fried rice for my 2nd lunch today, I know what to do. I must return half of it immediately because once I’ve touched it anything I don’t eat will be tossed. I make a fuss of it being too much and they allow me to put some on another plate. Now I just must be careful when I finish. A precarious game ensews of them trying to sneak more food on my plate. As long as I keep my plate with me until the kids are finished I’m safe. This time I win, next time I may not be so lucky. Though I don’t complain, the food is delicious. The ingredients are relatively limited and simple, yet the flavor they achieve cooking over a wood fire is incredible.
I sense a stress amongst the 2 women home and when Radha returns I am sure I am right. She is so happy to see me and I her. We embrace and chat. However, soon the neighbors come by and several women gather around Radha asking her questions. She is telling a story with the words “medical report” and “doctor.” I ask if everything is ok, she says yes. I don’t want to push the topic. However, a while later when she is clearly distracted and seems stressed I ask again, she tells me her borther Trilok fell from a tree this morning. Her and her mother brought him to the Mukteshwar clinic. He’s gashed his head, face, arm, and leg. I haven’t been able to understand how serious the injuries are, but he is suppose to return tonight, so I guess I will see for myself then.
Radha’s father died a while back from a heartattack. It is difficult for a family to survive here without a head of household. Trilok has assumed the responsibilities of this role, though not the position, for the family. I’m imagining Radha is reflecting on the loss of her father.
This is a very united family. Each member works very hard for thw hole and they support eachother unconditionally, it is essential to their wellbeing. I’ve seen several families here now, and I can sense a very strong bond and love in this family in particular.
-----
The women and I have spent a good hour examining an American $1 and $5 bill I brought, along with several pictures of my parents and I. They comment that mom and dad look “smart.” Sometimes the British influence really shows…
-----
Trilok has returned, somehow he managed to get into bed facing the wall without me noticing. I can’t see anything Radha as made a home remedy for his wounds. He lies completely still.
The family I knew to be always laughing is mostly silent. I can feel the stress, mourning, and concern infesting the household. I feel like an intruder on the families grief. Radha’s mother is ranting to Govind. It’s an endless speech, clearly full of resent and frustrations. I hear “pani” (water) a lot, I imagine she’s listing all their hardships and saying, “and now this, why this?…” She clears her throat and continues. Govind, holding a sleeping Kushi listens obediently with mounting stress etching across his forehead. 5 min, 10 min, 20, 40… she speaks for an hour. Radha serves tea. With everything happening Radha stil asks me. “Is it too sweet?” “It’s perfect.” I reply.
Trilok sits up to take some tea but faces the wall. I can make out a bandage around his head and a patched eye. I’m praying he recovers quickly and send a text to the group to let them know of the accident. We need Neosporin and a get-well card.
It’s getting dark and the family has resumed boxing peaches to bring to the road. They constuct crates from planks of wood they purchase, then pack them with peaches, newspaper and pineneedles, and nail them shut. Each crate is painted to indicate quality, quantity, and seller. I notice 2 different sizes of boxes. Radha says the smaller size is top quality, the larger box is medium. The boxes weigh about 6 and 14 kilos, respectively, when full.
It’s dark now and various family members take the boxes to the road. 10 year old Rajul carries a 6 kilo box on his head. Radha carries about 20 kilos of peaches on her head up the path that always puts me out of breath without carrying anything. I don’t follow them because I would fall and surely sprain my ankle trying to walk up this path in the dark. I sheepishly return to the house to watch Daviki wash the mud floor with water. I’m confused as to the purpose of this since the floor is a dry dirt and dung mixture, why get it wet?
The peaches they leave on the road will be picked up by large blue transport trucks who will then drop the boxes with distributors in the town of Haldwani, from there they will be sold around the country. The family makes 25rps for each smaller box, 30 rps ($0.75) for the larger ones. I ask Redha how many boxes of peaches they make in a year. She estimates 60-80. I estimate the family brings in about 2000rps in 1 year from peach production (their main crop), minus any costs for pesticides, crates, etc. That is $50. I’ve paid 150rps ($4) per night I’ve stayed here, that is nearly 10% of their profit, per night.
The first time I stayed here I expected a small struggle with Rdha to allow me to pay for staying, however I encountered none. Now I understand, they really need the money. I had though they live a modest/poor life but get by with what they have as long as they work hard to maximize farm output. Now I see that they work hard to maximize output and it is barely enough. I’m amazed Radha manages to go to University in Almora, I can’t express how much I admire her.
I’m sitting in the kitchen writing. Walking in here chokes me from the smoke. But I’ve learned that if I sit down quickly it won’t bother me as much.
They eat dinner later here, though in the case of Radha’s family this seems more out of necessity then tradition. The women are working up until 8 or so, when they can not longer see in the dim light, and that is when they begin to prepare the food. Everyone is in bed by about 11pm and they rise to start another day at about 5:30am.
Monday, June 2, 2008
The real homestay.
May 27th.
So I ended up spending about 3 days, 2 nights with Radha’s family and it was absolutely wonderful.
Her family (in order of family hierarchy):
Her mother – Daviki
Her older brothers – Govind and Trilok
Her older sister – Jugdamba
Radha – 20 yrs old
Her sister in law (Govind’s wife): Garima
The kids: Garima’s daughter – Kushi (3yrs old)
Rajul (Radha’s nephew from another sister, 10yrs old)
Radha has 4 sisters that have been married and now live in their husband’s home.
Observations and such from my homestay:
Radha didn’t know for sure that Garima was pregnant until I asked, and then she asked her mother. She’s 4 months pregnant.
I have to trot down the steep path to the house to keep up with Radha who has a large bucket of water on her head.
Her older sister delegates all chores. They jokingly call her “boss”
The whole family is always laughing. They are concerned about me when I start thinking and looking serious.
They ask me for remedies to help their cracked heels, eyes, skin, etc
I give vitamins to Radha for Kushi’s cold.
Garima knows quite a lot of English. She has studied until 12th class and she is 28, yet inferior in the family because she is related through marriage. She’s really wonderful and I think the family likes her a lot, but she is still the sister-in-law. Radha is quite rude to her, since she is the only one that Radha can actually boss around. It’s difficult to see, because Radha is so sweet yet turns into someone else when dealing with Garima. I’ve noticied Garima only speaks to me in English when no one else is around. As I’m sitting on the kitchen floor eating lunch she pats the earthen floor and says, “Indian dining table.” “The best kind” I reply laughing.
The whole family partakes in raising Kushi, even the men. However when she is very upset she always calls for Garima, who still breast feeds her at the age of 3.
Radha adores her mother, I wonder how long ago her father passed away…
Daviki is a remarkable woman who is unfortunately aging quickly. Radha says she is about 50 years old, but I would easily estimate her to be 60+. She loves her family very much and would do anything for her daughters. Despite not speaking English we manage to communicate fairly well. I’m impressed she has continued to allow Radha to study at University in Almora.
I really hope Radha will take what we’ve learned from the interviews with her for the rest of her life. And that it influences her own choices about her health.
The family adores me. I love that they are willing to let me help. They understand the concept of “homestay” perfectly. Radha is an incredible host. I ate with the men/guests my first night and with the women in the kitchen my second. This is unusual, because the women always eat last and guests should be served separately. All my other meals have been just Radha and I. The family asks me questions, checks in on me and is eager to exchange a laugh. We communicate through food, Kushi, pictures, and Radha. Even though I am Radha’s guest and responsibility, everyone is eager to make sure I am comfortable, both physically and emotionally.
Radha is very apologetic about her house, lack of table, tv, etc. on my first day. But by my 2nd I think I’ve made it fairly clear how comfortable I am by eating with my hands, sitting on the floor, helping cook, and more. She still is always checking that everything is ok, but no longer apologizes.
Jugdamba wants to come to America with me. Her and Radha have both expressed that they will be sad when I leave. Garima asked if I will be returning. I wish I could stay longer. The truth though is that while I absolutely love it here, there are 2 things currently restricting the reality of me staying more nights:
I really need a proper shower.
I am getting mentally exhausted watching how hard these women work, I need a break.
I’m not cut out for hard labor, I can work for a couple hours on a project, but every day, all day, would destroy me. I’m realizing the longer I live (particularly in America), the less capable I am at maintaining the patience for labor and chores. Watching them walking around with 50lbs of fodder or fertilizer on their head makes me nauseous when I try to imagine myself doing it. Sitting in the smoky kitchen for about an hour is my maximum. I don’t know I could even cook a dish sitting as close to the fire as they do.
The women’s feet are all severely cracked here. It starts young. They hike around in plastic flip-flops all day. It looks extremely painful. Again, I’ve been asked if I know a cure.
They have run out of water at their tap and everything they use now must come from the hand pump down the road and carried on their head to the house.
I milked the cow! At night, under the house, in my skirt, standing in cow shit. Jugdamba motions for me to crouch next to her. As I reach out for the udder the one dim light bulb goes out. I’m crouching in ripe fertilizer, surrounded on all sides by 4 cows, in pitch black. We both start laughing hysterically. After a couple minutes Trilok comes with a torch. Oh good, now I can see what I’m doing, now I just have to figure out what I’m doing…
So I ended up spending about 3 days, 2 nights with Radha’s family and it was absolutely wonderful.
Her family (in order of family hierarchy):
Her mother – Daviki
Her older brothers – Govind and Trilok
Her older sister – Jugdamba
Radha – 20 yrs old
Her sister in law (Govind’s wife): Garima
The kids: Garima’s daughter – Kushi (3yrs old)
Rajul (Radha’s nephew from another sister, 10yrs old)
Radha has 4 sisters that have been married and now live in their husband’s home.
Observations and such from my homestay:
Radha didn’t know for sure that Garima was pregnant until I asked, and then she asked her mother. She’s 4 months pregnant.
I have to trot down the steep path to the house to keep up with Radha who has a large bucket of water on her head.
Her older sister delegates all chores. They jokingly call her “boss”
The whole family is always laughing. They are concerned about me when I start thinking and looking serious.
They ask me for remedies to help their cracked heels, eyes, skin, etc
I give vitamins to Radha for Kushi’s cold.
Garima knows quite a lot of English. She has studied until 12th class and she is 28, yet inferior in the family because she is related through marriage. She’s really wonderful and I think the family likes her a lot, but she is still the sister-in-law. Radha is quite rude to her, since she is the only one that Radha can actually boss around. It’s difficult to see, because Radha is so sweet yet turns into someone else when dealing with Garima. I’ve noticied Garima only speaks to me in English when no one else is around. As I’m sitting on the kitchen floor eating lunch she pats the earthen floor and says, “Indian dining table.” “The best kind” I reply laughing.
The whole family partakes in raising Kushi, even the men. However when she is very upset she always calls for Garima, who still breast feeds her at the age of 3.
Radha adores her mother, I wonder how long ago her father passed away…
Daviki is a remarkable woman who is unfortunately aging quickly. Radha says she is about 50 years old, but I would easily estimate her to be 60+. She loves her family very much and would do anything for her daughters. Despite not speaking English we manage to communicate fairly well. I’m impressed she has continued to allow Radha to study at University in Almora.
I really hope Radha will take what we’ve learned from the interviews with her for the rest of her life. And that it influences her own choices about her health.
The family adores me. I love that they are willing to let me help. They understand the concept of “homestay” perfectly. Radha is an incredible host. I ate with the men/guests my first night and with the women in the kitchen my second. This is unusual, because the women always eat last and guests should be served separately. All my other meals have been just Radha and I. The family asks me questions, checks in on me and is eager to exchange a laugh. We communicate through food, Kushi, pictures, and Radha. Even though I am Radha’s guest and responsibility, everyone is eager to make sure I am comfortable, both physically and emotionally.
Radha is very apologetic about her house, lack of table, tv, etc. on my first day. But by my 2nd I think I’ve made it fairly clear how comfortable I am by eating with my hands, sitting on the floor, helping cook, and more. She still is always checking that everything is ok, but no longer apologizes.
Jugdamba wants to come to America with me. Her and Radha have both expressed that they will be sad when I leave. Garima asked if I will be returning. I wish I could stay longer. The truth though is that while I absolutely love it here, there are 2 things currently restricting the reality of me staying more nights:
I really need a proper shower.
I am getting mentally exhausted watching how hard these women work, I need a break.
I’m not cut out for hard labor, I can work for a couple hours on a project, but every day, all day, would destroy me. I’m realizing the longer I live (particularly in America), the less capable I am at maintaining the patience for labor and chores. Watching them walking around with 50lbs of fodder or fertilizer on their head makes me nauseous when I try to imagine myself doing it. Sitting in the smoky kitchen for about an hour is my maximum. I don’t know I could even cook a dish sitting as close to the fire as they do.
The women’s feet are all severely cracked here. It starts young. They hike around in plastic flip-flops all day. It looks extremely painful. Again, I’ve been asked if I know a cure.
They have run out of water at their tap and everything they use now must come from the hand pump down the road and carried on their head to the house.
I milked the cow! At night, under the house, in my skirt, standing in cow shit. Jugdamba motions for me to crouch next to her. As I reach out for the udder the one dim light bulb goes out. I’m crouching in ripe fertilizer, surrounded on all sides by 4 cows, in pitch black. We both start laughing hysterically. After a couple minutes Trilok comes with a torch. Oh good, now I can see what I’m doing, now I just have to figure out what I’m doing…
First night of homestay
I’m confused, conflicted, but content, but lonely. I’m exhausted, I will sleep well tonight in my home stay.
I’m the guest of the son, Kanchan. He’s told me. “You’re very beautiful… I’m very happy.” Should I be expecting a marriage proposal? Probably not but I don’t know how to react to this. When I arrive at my home stay I am directed past the first house which Kanchan dismisses as his family’s and takes me to his (new) house net door. In the guest room we sit on opposite beds, each not staring at the other. His English is limited, but I’m highly unimpressed. Although I can tell he expects me to be, by his new home, by his guest room, by his studies at college in Haldwani, his job as a local teacher, and his apparent command over his family and brother’s wife. And yet, after 2 years in collge and being a teacher his English comprehension and willingness to form his own sentences are highly unimpressive compared to Radha’s who has been studying English for 3 months at university. There’s a young boy running around, peaking at me through the curtains and door. I ask his name and age. According to Kanchan, Gorro is 12. Kanchan tells me he teaches 14 year olds, I can tell the boy is not nearly 12, he confirms with his sister-in-law who passes by. No, the boy is six.
So we sit across each other in silence for at least 45 minutes while it rains and chai is brought in. I want to go meet the family and see the family’s house but I am also very tired. Kanchan leaves to do something a couple imes and always comes back in to sit. I make a couple, in my opinion, excellent attempts at conversation, but they all fail instantly when he answers my questions with a yes or no and nothing else. The best I got was when he said America “is my favorite.” “Why?” I asked. “Because larges houses.” I reply, “Much in America is big, but I don’t think big is always good.” He doesn’t seem impressed with this statemnt, but he is still happy to just sit in his female American guest’s presence. I run away to the toilet for 5 minutes, a cement outhouse with a tin door that has fallen off its hinges. I return and explain I’m very tired, I’m going to write in my journal and nap. “Yes” he syasy, then invites me to watch TV with him. Maybe later I reply. I retreat and lay in bed. I’ve asked that I can help make dinner at 7. I’m not allowed to help but I can watch. That’s fine, at least I can meet the woman of the family, and maybe the kid too.
At 7pm Kanchan returns to ask me to watch his TV. Okay. I give him 30 minutes of him flipping through channels viewing random bollywood music videos. I actually really enjoy this stuff, I find it fascinating and pleasantly mind-numbing at the same time; but not now, I’m not in a home stay to watch TV. I ask him to introduce me to his family. We go next door and I sit down inside. I take in the dimness and smell of the traditional house. No white washed walls, only molded earthen floors and walls, a smoked ceiling, the house is warm from the stove fire. Kanchan explains “Traditional house,” almost apologetically. I node and say it’s beautiful, now he’s confused. I wonder if I’m getting threw to him, probably not. I’m not representing my culture as he expects, and he’s not representing his as I expect. There is a gap here that probably won’t be bridged. His sister-in-law comes in. I don’t understand Hindi, but I feel I manage to place a lot of context, and it helps that I know a couple random hindi words and they use some English for keywords on occasion, both of which I can hear in conversation. He’s told her I want to meet her, she smiles shyly and sits, he tells me she is “my borther’s wife.” I inquire after her name, Hema. I ask a couple more random friendly questions, Kanchan answers.. She’s not very interested in me, I don’t blame her, she has to start cooking and after all, apparently I am Kanchan’s guest, her’s only indirectly.
I move into the kitchen with her and sit out of the way in the corner to observe. What else am I going to do? The boy has lost interest in me, he’s stopped staring. Kanchan joins several minutes later and sits next to Hema sho is making chapatti. Being in this house, with the smoke, watching the chapatti bake and observing I am inclined to make this homestay work, at least another night. I’ll try harder to communicate and participate tomorrow… I sit in silence, waching. A conversation unfolds between Hema and Kanchan. I am fairly confident in my translation…
Hema: “…. TV … nahi…?” (She didn’t want to watch TV?)
Kanchan: “Ha, leken… khana…” (Yes, but she wanted to help with dinner.)
Hema looks at me and laughs, I smile. I wonder if we understood each other for a moment. She asks him, “…Hindi…?” (Does she understand hind?)
Kanchan: “Ney… Ingreza….” (No, she only speaks English.)
Hema: “…?” (Where is she from?)
Kanchan: “… Amrika…” (She’s from America.)
Hema: “…Hindi…?” (So she doesn’t know any hindi?)
Kanchan: “…Hindi…tora tora.” (She knows a little hind.)
At this point I brave it and interrupt, “Ha. Hindi tora tora.” Kanchan looks surprised, Hema laughs. I ask Kanchan how many hours a day he watches TV. After several attempts I secure his proud answer of 3 hours. (By the end of the night I will have observed 4+ hours.) I notice a sly smile on Hema’s lips, I think she understood.
Kanchan and I eat together, separate from the rest of the family. Again, silence. I compliment the food and try a few more questions. I’m disappointed he doesn’t try to ask me anything, his English is not that limited. I’m ok with awkward silence, but I don’t appreciate his complete lack of attempt to engage with me. After dinner he takes the dishes to the kitchen and is about to lead me back to his house, I walk back to the kitchen, stick my head in and say “danyavad” to Hema. She looks surprised and pleased. I say goodnight to the rest of the family (all adult men) and leave. I can tell Kanchan would like me to watch TV with him. I explain I must do school work and go to sleep. He comes into my room with me and sits down. I pull out my journal and pretend to be writing. He sits there in silence, looking slightly awkward. I look up and ask him what he is going to do. He just shrugs. This I don’t understand, and do not feel comfortable with. I ask him if he is going to watch TV, he says yes, but continues to sit on the opposite bed. After several awkward exchanges of me being as polite and indirect as I can, I manage to convey thank you for dinner, he can go watch TV, I’m going to sleep. When he finally leaves the room he reminds me to lock my door. I’ve now decided to move to Radha’s home tomorrow, with Keith’s approval. They all ready made a great impression on me and asked me to stay. I know I’ll enjoy it much more, and gain more from the experience. I know I won’t feel isolated.
Morning is a repeat of last night. I play with a puppy… Shanti, a woman I interviewed two days ago comes to visit. She comes into my room excited to see me. She speaks no English, yet we manage to enjoy a 2-minute conversation about me taking pictures of her and Bina the other day. Yes that was funny, yes I have the pictures, yes I will mail them. No, to CHIRAG, yes I will send them to CHIRAG. She asks me if everything is ok here. I say yes (thik). I tell her I am hungry. She goes outside and talks with Kanchan and his brother (who is a very sweet man, very much in love with his 5 month old daughter, Dia.). It sounds like she is asking why I am in my room, something about chai, and then she asks how long I am staying (the word “tin” is passed around). I come out and she motions for me to follow her to the family’s house for chai. We sit down inside and Hema comes from the kitchen. Shanti talks to her about me, asking her questions. Based on Hema’s reply with words “Iindi” and “English,” I gather Shanti has asked if she has spoken with me and Hema replies with, “But I don’t speak English and she doesn’t speak Hindi.” Shanti responds vibrantly, explaining we don’t need to speak the same language and something about the pictures again. When Shanti and I are left in the room alone together she whispers to me (in Hindi), “you come to my house, I’ll take you to my home.” I laugh and say ok. She laughs too. What an amazing contrast in communication skills.
After I finish breakfast with Kanchan (in silence), I explain that I’m leaving, I’m only staying the one night. I try to blame it on “my leader,” saying he wants me to go to a different house for my project, my work. I don’t want to insult Kanchan. I can tell he doesn’t buy it though, he’s upset. So when we hike up to the road together, before we separate, he asks, “You happy? You happy in my home?” “Yes,” I reply. You have a very nice home and a very nice family.” I say my thank you’s and I’m off to Radha’s to beg her to take me in for the next two nights. I don’t think it should be too difficult. I’m excited.
I’m the guest of the son, Kanchan. He’s told me. “You’re very beautiful… I’m very happy.” Should I be expecting a marriage proposal? Probably not but I don’t know how to react to this. When I arrive at my home stay I am directed past the first house which Kanchan dismisses as his family’s and takes me to his (new) house net door. In the guest room we sit on opposite beds, each not staring at the other. His English is limited, but I’m highly unimpressed. Although I can tell he expects me to be, by his new home, by his guest room, by his studies at college in Haldwani, his job as a local teacher, and his apparent command over his family and brother’s wife. And yet, after 2 years in collge and being a teacher his English comprehension and willingness to form his own sentences are highly unimpressive compared to Radha’s who has been studying English for 3 months at university. There’s a young boy running around, peaking at me through the curtains and door. I ask his name and age. According to Kanchan, Gorro is 12. Kanchan tells me he teaches 14 year olds, I can tell the boy is not nearly 12, he confirms with his sister-in-law who passes by. No, the boy is six.
So we sit across each other in silence for at least 45 minutes while it rains and chai is brought in. I want to go meet the family and see the family’s house but I am also very tired. Kanchan leaves to do something a couple imes and always comes back in to sit. I make a couple, in my opinion, excellent attempts at conversation, but they all fail instantly when he answers my questions with a yes or no and nothing else. The best I got was when he said America “is my favorite.” “Why?” I asked. “Because larges houses.” I reply, “Much in America is big, but I don’t think big is always good.” He doesn’t seem impressed with this statemnt, but he is still happy to just sit in his female American guest’s presence. I run away to the toilet for 5 minutes, a cement outhouse with a tin door that has fallen off its hinges. I return and explain I’m very tired, I’m going to write in my journal and nap. “Yes” he syasy, then invites me to watch TV with him. Maybe later I reply. I retreat and lay in bed. I’ve asked that I can help make dinner at 7. I’m not allowed to help but I can watch. That’s fine, at least I can meet the woman of the family, and maybe the kid too.
At 7pm Kanchan returns to ask me to watch his TV. Okay. I give him 30 minutes of him flipping through channels viewing random bollywood music videos. I actually really enjoy this stuff, I find it fascinating and pleasantly mind-numbing at the same time; but not now, I’m not in a home stay to watch TV. I ask him to introduce me to his family. We go next door and I sit down inside. I take in the dimness and smell of the traditional house. No white washed walls, only molded earthen floors and walls, a smoked ceiling, the house is warm from the stove fire. Kanchan explains “Traditional house,” almost apologetically. I node and say it’s beautiful, now he’s confused. I wonder if I’m getting threw to him, probably not. I’m not representing my culture as he expects, and he’s not representing his as I expect. There is a gap here that probably won’t be bridged. His sister-in-law comes in. I don’t understand Hindi, but I feel I manage to place a lot of context, and it helps that I know a couple random hindi words and they use some English for keywords on occasion, both of which I can hear in conversation. He’s told her I want to meet her, she smiles shyly and sits, he tells me she is “my borther’s wife.” I inquire after her name, Hema. I ask a couple more random friendly questions, Kanchan answers.. She’s not very interested in me, I don’t blame her, she has to start cooking and after all, apparently I am Kanchan’s guest, her’s only indirectly.
I move into the kitchen with her and sit out of the way in the corner to observe. What else am I going to do? The boy has lost interest in me, he’s stopped staring. Kanchan joins several minutes later and sits next to Hema sho is making chapatti. Being in this house, with the smoke, watching the chapatti bake and observing I am inclined to make this homestay work, at least another night. I’ll try harder to communicate and participate tomorrow… I sit in silence, waching. A conversation unfolds between Hema and Kanchan. I am fairly confident in my translation…
Hema: “…. TV … nahi…?” (She didn’t want to watch TV?)
Kanchan: “Ha, leken… khana…” (Yes, but she wanted to help with dinner.)
Hema looks at me and laughs, I smile. I wonder if we understood each other for a moment. She asks him, “…Hindi…?” (Does she understand hind?)
Kanchan: “Ney… Ingreza….” (No, she only speaks English.)
Hema: “…?” (Where is she from?)
Kanchan: “… Amrika…” (She’s from America.)
Hema: “…Hindi…?” (So she doesn’t know any hindi?)
Kanchan: “…Hindi…tora tora.” (She knows a little hind.)
At this point I brave it and interrupt, “Ha. Hindi tora tora.” Kanchan looks surprised, Hema laughs. I ask Kanchan how many hours a day he watches TV. After several attempts I secure his proud answer of 3 hours. (By the end of the night I will have observed 4+ hours.) I notice a sly smile on Hema’s lips, I think she understood.
Kanchan and I eat together, separate from the rest of the family. Again, silence. I compliment the food and try a few more questions. I’m disappointed he doesn’t try to ask me anything, his English is not that limited. I’m ok with awkward silence, but I don’t appreciate his complete lack of attempt to engage with me. After dinner he takes the dishes to the kitchen and is about to lead me back to his house, I walk back to the kitchen, stick my head in and say “danyavad” to Hema. She looks surprised and pleased. I say goodnight to the rest of the family (all adult men) and leave. I can tell Kanchan would like me to watch TV with him. I explain I must do school work and go to sleep. He comes into my room with me and sits down. I pull out my journal and pretend to be writing. He sits there in silence, looking slightly awkward. I look up and ask him what he is going to do. He just shrugs. This I don’t understand, and do not feel comfortable with. I ask him if he is going to watch TV, he says yes, but continues to sit on the opposite bed. After several awkward exchanges of me being as polite and indirect as I can, I manage to convey thank you for dinner, he can go watch TV, I’m going to sleep. When he finally leaves the room he reminds me to lock my door. I’ve now decided to move to Radha’s home tomorrow, with Keith’s approval. They all ready made a great impression on me and asked me to stay. I know I’ll enjoy it much more, and gain more from the experience. I know I won’t feel isolated.
Morning is a repeat of last night. I play with a puppy… Shanti, a woman I interviewed two days ago comes to visit. She comes into my room excited to see me. She speaks no English, yet we manage to enjoy a 2-minute conversation about me taking pictures of her and Bina the other day. Yes that was funny, yes I have the pictures, yes I will mail them. No, to CHIRAG, yes I will send them to CHIRAG. She asks me if everything is ok here. I say yes (thik). I tell her I am hungry. She goes outside and talks with Kanchan and his brother (who is a very sweet man, very much in love with his 5 month old daughter, Dia.). It sounds like she is asking why I am in my room, something about chai, and then she asks how long I am staying (the word “tin” is passed around). I come out and she motions for me to follow her to the family’s house for chai. We sit down inside and Hema comes from the kitchen. Shanti talks to her about me, asking her questions. Based on Hema’s reply with words “Iindi” and “English,” I gather Shanti has asked if she has spoken with me and Hema replies with, “But I don’t speak English and she doesn’t speak Hindi.” Shanti responds vibrantly, explaining we don’t need to speak the same language and something about the pictures again. When Shanti and I are left in the room alone together she whispers to me (in Hindi), “you come to my house, I’ll take you to my home.” I laugh and say ok. She laughs too. What an amazing contrast in communication skills.
After I finish breakfast with Kanchan (in silence), I explain that I’m leaving, I’m only staying the one night. I try to blame it on “my leader,” saying he wants me to go to a different house for my project, my work. I don’t want to insult Kanchan. I can tell he doesn’t buy it though, he’s upset. So when we hike up to the road together, before we separate, he asks, “You happy? You happy in my home?” “Yes,” I reply. You have a very nice home and a very nice family.” I say my thank you’s and I’m off to Radha’s to beg her to take me in for the next two nights. I don’t think it should be too difficult. I’m excited.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Homestay.
I'm leaving today for a 3 day homestay in the village of Simayal. I won't have internet for a couple days. Wish me luck!
love,
Z
love,
Z
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Photos
 |
| From India-General |
Parvati (left) (and her granddaughter) and Roshni (right)
You need to click on the photo to see it in full.
http://picasaweb.google.com/ZyanyaKB/IndiaGeneral
Women Only.
May 17, 2008
I went on 2 interviews today. These women amaze, confuse, sadden, and frustrate me.
…
I've had to change my fellow students' plans by stealing my translator, Radha, back from them. I must have a female translator, and she’s the only one; they’ll have to find someone else. In my case it's women only. I'm asking sensitive questions about personal health, and I want them to share as much as possible. I must try to remove any obstacles, such as having men present.
As I’m walking along the path to reach the community of Meora, with Radha and CHIRAG employee Naomi, I’m so excited. I’m thinking about all the health issues I’ve been researching that women commonly deal with here. I’m wondering what my exchanges will be like. What will I learn from them? How much will they be willing to share? Will they feel comfortable with me? I’m approaching with an unidentifiable, strong, feminist pride, I’m not exactly sure where it is originating.
My goal is to learn about the healthcare seeking behavior of women in the area. I’m examining any possible relations of their behavior to age and literacy/education levels, as well as find out the differences in when they seek healthcare compared to their husbands. The ladies I am researching are all members of Women Self Help Groups (SHGs) that have been established by CHIRAG; the groups empower women to meet together and make decisions.
It’s us three women, going to meet with women. Women listening to women, women interested in women, women caring for women. We are empowering each other and ourselves.
This is awesome… Women Unite!
We approach the home of Parvati. She’s 65, has 6 children, and has completed 5 years of school. As we enter the patio of her home we find her sitting on the ground massaging a very swollen knee. It looks painful and she tells us it hurts to walk. She applies copious amounts of Omni-Gel, “Fast working pain relief cream!”
She’s happy to speak with us and invites us onto a rug outside, in the shade. I’m so excited and can’t stop smiling while trying to appear amiable and respectful.
I’m grateful to have Naomi with us on this first day. Radha is wonderful, but she’s only 20 and with limited English skills it’s nearly impossible for her to convey names of illnesses and symptoms to me. Naomi has worked with women’s health for 17 years, her English is also limited but she translates gallbladder stones, high blood pressure, ultrasound, arthritis, and more effortlessly. An entire medical history quickly unfolds.
3 months ago Parvati was diagnosed with gallbladder stones. After going to several local clinics she headed to the Haldwani hospital. They ran tests and told her she needed an operation. However, her blood pressure was high so she decided to postpone the operation and return home with painkillers.
I ask her if she has had any RTIs (Reproductive Tract Infections, they are extremely common amongst women here). She says yes, as well having had a PID (Pelvic Inflammatory Disease). She went to a local ayurvedic doctor for the PID originally and was given a tonic to take. She didn’t like the taste of it so she only took half. She has seen a gynecologist at a health camp and was given 3 days of “antibiotics,” which she took, but it didn’t make the PID go away. She now takes pain medicine and has her daughter-in-law massages her lower back with ointment. If the pain is really bad she can go to a clinic for an injection. She has accepted the persistent PID pains, though she does not acknowledge she still has PID, simply that it still hurts; she does not seek treatment for it anymore, only relief.
She has joint pains, which she treats with oil, salt, and she gets painkillers for.
She is living with constant pain from the gallbladder stones; her abdomen is large and bloated. She’s not sure when she will go for the operation. Naomi explains the longer she waits the worse it will be. For now she uses painkillers to cope, she doesn’t like the idea of staying in the hospital for so many days to wait for her blood pressure to drop. The way she speaks of going to refill her prescriptions and her general practices, I can only imagine her body is addicted to the painkillers.
We are joined by Roshni. Roshni is 33 years old, has also completed 5 years of education, and has 3 children. When Roshni was 18 she had her first child and developed an RTI (they are even more common after childbirth). She went to an ayurvedic doctor for treatment, but it persisted. She saw several doctors, but male doctors don’t examine, they only prescribe medication. Finally, a year later a female doctor properly examined her for the first time, at a women’s health camp. She was again diagnosed with having an RTI and given a set of antibiotics. They didn’t work.
Today, 15 years later, Roshni still suffers from the original RTI. I can’t imagine what pain, infection, and disease this prolonged illness has caused by now, and will cause in the future. I don’t understand why none of the medications have worked for her. Naomi is giving her advice in Hindi, I ask her to explain what she is saying. She tells me that every time Roshni has been provided with or purchased medication she takes about 2 pills and proceeds to throw the rest away. I am literally horror-struck. Roshni insists that the pills don’t work. She takes one and nothing happens. She doesn’t like pills anyway, so if they aren’t working she’s not going to keep taking them.
She’s suffered for 15 years with this burden of pain and neglect hiding under her sari. I ask her what she will do now and she replies, “I want to feel better, I want relief, but what can I do?”
...
I leave Meora exhausted, but thinking a million things. During the interviews I had been concentrating on my questions, understanding responses, and taking notes. I began to really process everything as we walked.
What had I been expecting? For these women to tell me, “I know I don’t take proper care of myself, but I really want to, it’s just so difficult.” I don’t have the money, my husband doesn’t let me, there are no female doctors, the resources aren’t available… These excuses would seem so much easier for me to understand, for me to think of solutions to. But these women are not giving me any of these excuses. Instead, I’m hearing that the reason they are suffering daily pain and ill health is due to fear, ignorance, isolation, and family values. Issues I can’t begin to approach, issues that are intangible and ingrained in society, issues I was hoping would have begun to be broken down in this area with the help of the SHGs and CHIRAG.
I feel defenseless to the waves of emotions passing through my mind and heart: anger, sadness, confusion, love. I was hoping for an intense cultural experience while conducting my project, one of the reasons I chose this topic. But this is more personal then I was expecting, and these were only the first 2 interviews of my planned 17 women.
My final realization as I’m in the jeep heading back to Sonopani with my peers, sharing our day’s experiences… Contrary to my initial thoughts, I now understand,
These women are not empowered, they are alone.
I went on 2 interviews today. These women amaze, confuse, sadden, and frustrate me.
…
I've had to change my fellow students' plans by stealing my translator, Radha, back from them. I must have a female translator, and she’s the only one; they’ll have to find someone else. In my case it's women only. I'm asking sensitive questions about personal health, and I want them to share as much as possible. I must try to remove any obstacles, such as having men present.
As I’m walking along the path to reach the community of Meora, with Radha and CHIRAG employee Naomi, I’m so excited. I’m thinking about all the health issues I’ve been researching that women commonly deal with here. I’m wondering what my exchanges will be like. What will I learn from them? How much will they be willing to share? Will they feel comfortable with me? I’m approaching with an unidentifiable, strong, feminist pride, I’m not exactly sure where it is originating.
My goal is to learn about the healthcare seeking behavior of women in the area. I’m examining any possible relations of their behavior to age and literacy/education levels, as well as find out the differences in when they seek healthcare compared to their husbands. The ladies I am researching are all members of Women Self Help Groups (SHGs) that have been established by CHIRAG; the groups empower women to meet together and make decisions.
It’s us three women, going to meet with women. Women listening to women, women interested in women, women caring for women. We are empowering each other and ourselves.
This is awesome… Women Unite!
We approach the home of Parvati. She’s 65, has 6 children, and has completed 5 years of school. As we enter the patio of her home we find her sitting on the ground massaging a very swollen knee. It looks painful and she tells us it hurts to walk. She applies copious amounts of Omni-Gel, “Fast working pain relief cream!”
She’s happy to speak with us and invites us onto a rug outside, in the shade. I’m so excited and can’t stop smiling while trying to appear amiable and respectful.
I’m grateful to have Naomi with us on this first day. Radha is wonderful, but she’s only 20 and with limited English skills it’s nearly impossible for her to convey names of illnesses and symptoms to me. Naomi has worked with women’s health for 17 years, her English is also limited but she translates gallbladder stones, high blood pressure, ultrasound, arthritis, and more effortlessly. An entire medical history quickly unfolds.
3 months ago Parvati was diagnosed with gallbladder stones. After going to several local clinics she headed to the Haldwani hospital. They ran tests and told her she needed an operation. However, her blood pressure was high so she decided to postpone the operation and return home with painkillers.
I ask her if she has had any RTIs (Reproductive Tract Infections, they are extremely common amongst women here). She says yes, as well having had a PID (Pelvic Inflammatory Disease). She went to a local ayurvedic doctor for the PID originally and was given a tonic to take. She didn’t like the taste of it so she only took half. She has seen a gynecologist at a health camp and was given 3 days of “antibiotics,” which she took, but it didn’t make the PID go away. She now takes pain medicine and has her daughter-in-law massages her lower back with ointment. If the pain is really bad she can go to a clinic for an injection. She has accepted the persistent PID pains, though she does not acknowledge she still has PID, simply that it still hurts; she does not seek treatment for it anymore, only relief.
She has joint pains, which she treats with oil, salt, and she gets painkillers for.
She is living with constant pain from the gallbladder stones; her abdomen is large and bloated. She’s not sure when she will go for the operation. Naomi explains the longer she waits the worse it will be. For now she uses painkillers to cope, she doesn’t like the idea of staying in the hospital for so many days to wait for her blood pressure to drop. The way she speaks of going to refill her prescriptions and her general practices, I can only imagine her body is addicted to the painkillers.
We are joined by Roshni. Roshni is 33 years old, has also completed 5 years of education, and has 3 children. When Roshni was 18 she had her first child and developed an RTI (they are even more common after childbirth). She went to an ayurvedic doctor for treatment, but it persisted. She saw several doctors, but male doctors don’t examine, they only prescribe medication. Finally, a year later a female doctor properly examined her for the first time, at a women’s health camp. She was again diagnosed with having an RTI and given a set of antibiotics. They didn’t work.
Today, 15 years later, Roshni still suffers from the original RTI. I can’t imagine what pain, infection, and disease this prolonged illness has caused by now, and will cause in the future. I don’t understand why none of the medications have worked for her. Naomi is giving her advice in Hindi, I ask her to explain what she is saying. She tells me that every time Roshni has been provided with or purchased medication she takes about 2 pills and proceeds to throw the rest away. I am literally horror-struck. Roshni insists that the pills don’t work. She takes one and nothing happens. She doesn’t like pills anyway, so if they aren’t working she’s not going to keep taking them.
She’s suffered for 15 years with this burden of pain and neglect hiding under her sari. I ask her what she will do now and she replies, “I want to feel better, I want relief, but what can I do?”
...
I leave Meora exhausted, but thinking a million things. During the interviews I had been concentrating on my questions, understanding responses, and taking notes. I began to really process everything as we walked.
What had I been expecting? For these women to tell me, “I know I don’t take proper care of myself, but I really want to, it’s just so difficult.” I don’t have the money, my husband doesn’t let me, there are no female doctors, the resources aren’t available… These excuses would seem so much easier for me to understand, for me to think of solutions to. But these women are not giving me any of these excuses. Instead, I’m hearing that the reason they are suffering daily pain and ill health is due to fear, ignorance, isolation, and family values. Issues I can’t begin to approach, issues that are intangible and ingrained in society, issues I was hoping would have begun to be broken down in this area with the help of the SHGs and CHIRAG.
I feel defenseless to the waves of emotions passing through my mind and heart: anger, sadness, confusion, love. I was hoping for an intense cultural experience while conducting my project, one of the reasons I chose this topic. But this is more personal then I was expecting, and these were only the first 2 interviews of my planned 17 women.
My final realization as I’m in the jeep heading back to Sonopani with my peers, sharing our day’s experiences… Contrary to my initial thoughts, I now understand,
These women are not empowered, they are alone.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Welcome to India.
As a traveler, whenever you meet an Indian, no matter who they may be, a hairdresser computer engineer, bus driver, anthropologist, or chai-stand owner, they will always ask “Is this your 1st time in India?” And with the response, “Yes,” it immediately seems to follow that they disqualify any other experiences in life you may have had. Suddenly you are perceived as a child, seeing the world properly for the first time. It’s not as though they are passing judgment, as much as they are simply very excited for you (and full of advice).
This is the first country I’ve been to where I don’t say “you’re country is very beautiful” and receive a modest “thank you.” Instead the reply “yes, it is,” is more common. Everyone is highly aware of the problems of the country, but also of the experience offered by the society and culture for travelers (both Indian and foreign).
The lesson: If you haven’t experienced India you are not fully qualified to remark on life. But it’s "o.k.", because you are here now, in Bharat, and soon you will know.
This is the first country I’ve been to where I don’t say “you’re country is very beautiful” and receive a modest “thank you.” Instead the reply “yes, it is,” is more common. Everyone is highly aware of the problems of the country, but also of the experience offered by the society and culture for travelers (both Indian and foreign).
The lesson: If you haven’t experienced India you are not fully qualified to remark on life. But it’s "o.k.", because you are here now, in Bharat, and soon you will know.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Misc.
I really enjoy having to squeeze to the side on the path back to Sonopani because I run into a herd of goats and their herder, or perhaps a couple cows are blocking the path.
The birds here are incessant. There are many small song birds that fill the morning and evening with sound, along with many ravens and jays that fill the rest of the day with a variety of loud, rude sounds. But I think I'll miss them all when we leave.
Today we were told there was a leopard kill of a cow at a home nearby and it has returned to feed several times. Word is it's a very large cat and we've been told not to walk around at night. I was surprised no one had attempted to kill it, but Ashish said that it is illegal because it's an endangered species and not until the animal has killed 2 people can it be considered a threat to society.
-----
I've started going into the field to meet and interview women. It's amazing. The women are so friendly and hospitable to me, a complete stranger walking into their home, asking them personal questions about their health.
Yesterday I sat in a stone/mud home with a woman. My translator and I had already had chai at the previous house, and we didn't have a lot of time to stay, so we denied her offer for chai. But then she insisted that we had to take something sweet from her if we wouldn't have chai. So she proceeded to unlock a trunk in the corner of the room and pull out a little plastic baggy of sugar. We each took a spoonful from her in our right hand and downed it. yum.
I'm sorry I can't put up pictures, I have some good ones...
The birds here are incessant. There are many small song birds that fill the morning and evening with sound, along with many ravens and jays that fill the rest of the day with a variety of loud, rude sounds. But I think I'll miss them all when we leave.
Today we were told there was a leopard kill of a cow at a home nearby and it has returned to feed several times. Word is it's a very large cat and we've been told not to walk around at night. I was surprised no one had attempted to kill it, but Ashish said that it is illegal because it's an endangered species and not until the animal has killed 2 people can it be considered a threat to society.
-----
I've started going into the field to meet and interview women. It's amazing. The women are so friendly and hospitable to me, a complete stranger walking into their home, asking them personal questions about their health.
Yesterday I sat in a stone/mud home with a woman. My translator and I had already had chai at the previous house, and we didn't have a lot of time to stay, so we denied her offer for chai. But then she insisted that we had to take something sweet from her if we wouldn't have chai. So she proceeded to unlock a trunk in the corner of the room and pull out a little plastic baggy of sugar. We each took a spoonful from her in our right hand and downed it. yum.
I'm sorry I can't put up pictures, I have some good ones...
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Om nama shivaya
So I’m behind with my journaling but to catch up:
About a week ago we took a 4-day field trip a bit north of here. We drove to Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary where we spent 2 days. It’s a properly forested mountain and has been protected for about 40 years. It was nice to see more “lush” forest instead of the degraded and limited biodiversity we usually find here. The highlight of the trip though was our walk from Binsar to the Hindu pilgrimage town of Jageshwar. This was an 18 km hike along a well-worn trail through the mountains. Because it has been so dry over the past couple months everyone has been expecting forest fires to start, and they did when we got to Binsar.
During the beginning of our hike we were walking directly through several low intensity burns. The logs/trees and shrubs were still smoking and flames were crawling along the forest floor several meters from the path. It was really cool to see. Luckily though we walked through them all after an hour, or I probably would have started to become faint from the smoke. We arrived in Jageshwar after about 5 hours of hiking. The last part of the path took us trhough a beautiful deodar cedar forest along a stream that reminded me of home.
Jageshwar is a small town famous for a complex of over 100 small/large 1000 + year old temples and shrines. I’ve seen a lot of garbage in India on the streets, in huge piles, in rivers, buried garbage, garbage in the forests, in national parks, human waste… But it frustrated me to find copious amounts of trash strewn all over what is considered such a holy place. We attended the 7pm evening aarti (prayer) in the main temple, which was quite an experience. Here is an exchange I had with the priests as we were all sitting by the main representation of Shiva, waiting for the ceremony to begin:
Scene: about 7 students sitting around the shrine waiting for the prayers to begin with Dr. Asha (at the time, our translator). The conversation was passed between her.
I asked a question regarding priests abilities/training to read palms and such, I was curious if they did any types of predictions.
Priest: “Don’t worry about the future so much, worry about the present.”
Me (thinking: well that sounds familiar): “Right.”
Priest: “What is your favorite color?”
Me: Umm… Red.
Priest (thinks for a moment): You tend to agree more with your father than your mother.
Me (thinking: wow! That’s true. Wait a moment, he got that from my favorite color?): “Yes.”
Priest: When is your birthday?
Me: Sept. 22 1987.
Priest (he counts on his fingers and thinks for a second): Something happened when you were 7 years old, were you sick?
Me: I moved.
(Silence… At this point I couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or not, though I was very honored by his attention to me. He continued to stare at me for a while as I inspected my surroundings and thought about my religious beliefs, or lack there of.)
After a couple minutes:
Priest: “She has an inclination towards spirituality, I see that clearly.”
Me: "um, thanks, danyavad."
Me thinking: Ohhhhhhhh boy, mom's going to love this.
Me screaming in my head, with some sarcasm, though I can’t decide how much: “Mom! If you can hear me, a holy man in India just told me I’m spiritual. Turns out you were right!”
The prayers commenced from that point, which included a lot of Sanskrit songs, incense, flowers, water spraying, loud bells, fire, and the famous “Om Nama Shivaya” I have spent so many hours listening to from CD’s at home. Mom, I was thinking of you the whole time with a smile on my face.
Om Nama Shivaya
Om Nama Shivaya
Om Nama Shivaya
Om Nama Shivaya…
(I honor the divinity that resides within me)
Oh, and by the way I was later informed that the priest had also mentioned that the Hindu character Bhraspati resides high in my “charts.” Apparently he’s the Guru of the Gods. Cool, huh?
So we drove back the next day, stopping Almora for 2 hours to do some shopping. I got my haircut in a tiny tiny barbershop for 50rps ($1.25), by a jovial Muslim man who asked if I was Christian (knowing I was American).
I replied I was Jewish and his instant response was:
“Ah! We should be friends!”
I nominate him the next general secretary of the UN.
With my hair resembling that of a young boy I strolled around the bizarre and spent a blissful 15 minutes (truly a spiritual experience) using high-speed internet at a café.
More to come soon… please forgive any typos, it's dinner time and I'm in a hurry to reach my nightly feast.
About a week ago we took a 4-day field trip a bit north of here. We drove to Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary where we spent 2 days. It’s a properly forested mountain and has been protected for about 40 years. It was nice to see more “lush” forest instead of the degraded and limited biodiversity we usually find here. The highlight of the trip though was our walk from Binsar to the Hindu pilgrimage town of Jageshwar. This was an 18 km hike along a well-worn trail through the mountains. Because it has been so dry over the past couple months everyone has been expecting forest fires to start, and they did when we got to Binsar.
During the beginning of our hike we were walking directly through several low intensity burns. The logs/trees and shrubs were still smoking and flames were crawling along the forest floor several meters from the path. It was really cool to see. Luckily though we walked through them all after an hour, or I probably would have started to become faint from the smoke. We arrived in Jageshwar after about 5 hours of hiking. The last part of the path took us trhough a beautiful deodar cedar forest along a stream that reminded me of home.
Jageshwar is a small town famous for a complex of over 100 small/large 1000 + year old temples and shrines. I’ve seen a lot of garbage in India on the streets, in huge piles, in rivers, buried garbage, garbage in the forests, in national parks, human waste… But it frustrated me to find copious amounts of trash strewn all over what is considered such a holy place. We attended the 7pm evening aarti (prayer) in the main temple, which was quite an experience. Here is an exchange I had with the priests as we were all sitting by the main representation of Shiva, waiting for the ceremony to begin:
Scene: about 7 students sitting around the shrine waiting for the prayers to begin with Dr. Asha (at the time, our translator). The conversation was passed between her.
I asked a question regarding priests abilities/training to read palms and such, I was curious if they did any types of predictions.
Priest: “Don’t worry about the future so much, worry about the present.”
Me (thinking: well that sounds familiar): “Right.”
Priest: “What is your favorite color?”
Me: Umm… Red.
Priest (thinks for a moment): You tend to agree more with your father than your mother.
Me (thinking: wow! That’s true. Wait a moment, he got that from my favorite color?): “Yes.”
Priest: When is your birthday?
Me: Sept. 22 1987.
Priest (he counts on his fingers and thinks for a second): Something happened when you were 7 years old, were you sick?
Me: I moved.
(Silence… At this point I couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or not, though I was very honored by his attention to me. He continued to stare at me for a while as I inspected my surroundings and thought about my religious beliefs, or lack there of.)
After a couple minutes:
Priest: “She has an inclination towards spirituality, I see that clearly.”
Me: "um, thanks, danyavad."
Me thinking: Ohhhhhhhh boy, mom's going to love this.
Me screaming in my head, with some sarcasm, though I can’t decide how much: “Mom! If you can hear me, a holy man in India just told me I’m spiritual. Turns out you were right!”
The prayers commenced from that point, which included a lot of Sanskrit songs, incense, flowers, water spraying, loud bells, fire, and the famous “Om Nama Shivaya” I have spent so many hours listening to from CD’s at home. Mom, I was thinking of you the whole time with a smile on my face.
Om Nama Shivaya
Om Nama Shivaya
Om Nama Shivaya
Om Nama Shivaya…
(I honor the divinity that resides within me)
Oh, and by the way I was later informed that the priest had also mentioned that the Hindu character Bhraspati resides high in my “charts.” Apparently he’s the Guru of the Gods. Cool, huh?
So we drove back the next day, stopping Almora for 2 hours to do some shopping. I got my haircut in a tiny tiny barbershop for 50rps ($1.25), by a jovial Muslim man who asked if I was Christian (knowing I was American).
I replied I was Jewish and his instant response was:
“Ah! We should be friends!”
I nominate him the next general secretary of the UN.
With my hair resembling that of a young boy I strolled around the bizarre and spent a blissful 15 minutes (truly a spiritual experience) using high-speed internet at a café.
More to come soon… please forgive any typos, it's dinner time and I'm in a hurry to reach my nightly feast.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
midterms?
Stress! what is this feeling?
We had a midterm in ecology on Friday, we have 2 full essays due over the weekend that we were just given as a take home midterm for Sustainable Development, our proposals are due thursday, and our reflection is due friday. Plus I have meetings for my projects and with the teachers.
No time no time no time. That familiar feeling is creeping back from life in Seattle.
It's weird to be busy again.
Also, my dance performance has been cancelled, too bad. I was really looking forward to that.
It's gotten cold and rainy here again, but that's ok, it's a nice break from the heat and they really needed the rain here.
Hmm. I could really go for pizza right now....
We had a midterm in ecology on Friday, we have 2 full essays due over the weekend that we were just given as a take home midterm for Sustainable Development, our proposals are due thursday, and our reflection is due friday. Plus I have meetings for my projects and with the teachers.
No time no time no time. That familiar feeling is creeping back from life in Seattle.
It's weird to be busy again.
Also, my dance performance has been cancelled, too bad. I was really looking forward to that.
It's gotten cold and rainy here again, but that's ok, it's a nice break from the heat and they really needed the rain here.
Hmm. I could really go for pizza right now....
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Life in India
We’re being spoiled. Have I already mentioned that?
Here’s what a typical day looks like in the life of Z in India…
7:50 alarm goes off.
8:00 snooze goes off.
8:05 Roll out of bed, slip on clothes without having to worry about fashion, hair, or makeup and head up to breakfast.
What’s for breakfast?
Depending on the day we will have a choice of several of the following:
Fresh yoghurt (curd)
Paratha’s (like potato/spice stuffed pancakes, delicious)
Pouridge
Fresh Papaya/Apple/Banana
Omlette or Scrambled eggs
Fried Chapati with potatoes in sauce
Toast w/ Jam & Ghee (clarified butter)
And of course Chai.
Did I mention we always eat buffet style?
We walk after breakfast down a quaint 1km path to meet the Jeeps that take us to CHIRAG. CHIRAG’s new building complex is quite nice and we have class there from about 10-1pm. Sometimes class is watching a bollywood movie.
Lunch is at 1:30pm and consists of rice and dal (lentils) with a vegetable dish and chapati’s (flat bread). From here we can decide to walk back (if it’s not too hot or we aren’t feeling too stuffed from lunch) the 5km uphill or get a ride back in the jeep.
We’re usually back by about 3:30pm, in time for the 4pm snack:
Chai and either cookies, pakoras, or French fries (everyone’s favorite).
The next 3 hours may be spent reading, playing Frisbee, learning to cook Indian food in the kitchen, having a Hindi lesson, or anything else you can think of.
Dinner is @ 7. I can’t begin to list what I may eat for dinner, but I can say it is always at least 3 dishes and delicious. We often eat traditional Indian (better then anything from an Indian restaurant in Seattle), but occasionally Vinod, the chef, will surprise us with pasta, Chinese, pizza, and more. Dessert is always sweet, often fried, and incredible. Again this is all buffet style.
I’m not losing weight in India…
I don’t have to clean my room, wash my dishes, or do my laundry.
I share a comfortable private one room furnished cabin with beautiful views and a private bathroom (w/ toilet paper!!!) with my roommate Amity. Some people are uncomfortable with the amount of bugs, but having lived in the jungle in Costa Rica for a month I feel quite well trained, as long as there are no mosquitoes I’m happy.
This next week though my schedule will begin to be much more dense. I will be having Indian/salsa dance practice nearly every other day. I will be going to the women’s self help group meetings some days in different villages with some possible overnight stays.
We are adding another class when Professor Patak arrives to begin lessons in Indian history. Occasionally I go to the CHIRAG School to teach dance and movement to 3-6 year olds. Also by the end of the month our 2 projects/papers are due.
And so the next month will be packed with dance, classes, study, social observations, ecological research and experimenting, plenty of reading and writing, and of course eating.
I’m looking forward to finally feeling busy, though in many ways I have really enjoyed the past month of relaxation and reflection.
Here’s what a typical day looks like in the life of Z in India…
7:50 alarm goes off.
8:00 snooze goes off.
8:05 Roll out of bed, slip on clothes without having to worry about fashion, hair, or makeup and head up to breakfast.
What’s for breakfast?
Depending on the day we will have a choice of several of the following:
Fresh yoghurt (curd)
Paratha’s (like potato/spice stuffed pancakes, delicious)
Pouridge
Fresh Papaya/Apple/Banana
Omlette or Scrambled eggs
Fried Chapati with potatoes in sauce
Toast w/ Jam & Ghee (clarified butter)
And of course Chai.
Did I mention we always eat buffet style?
We walk after breakfast down a quaint 1km path to meet the Jeeps that take us to CHIRAG. CHIRAG’s new building complex is quite nice and we have class there from about 10-1pm. Sometimes class is watching a bollywood movie.
Lunch is at 1:30pm and consists of rice and dal (lentils) with a vegetable dish and chapati’s (flat bread). From here we can decide to walk back (if it’s not too hot or we aren’t feeling too stuffed from lunch) the 5km uphill or get a ride back in the jeep.
We’re usually back by about 3:30pm, in time for the 4pm snack:
Chai and either cookies, pakoras, or French fries (everyone’s favorite).
The next 3 hours may be spent reading, playing Frisbee, learning to cook Indian food in the kitchen, having a Hindi lesson, or anything else you can think of.
Dinner is @ 7. I can’t begin to list what I may eat for dinner, but I can say it is always at least 3 dishes and delicious. We often eat traditional Indian (better then anything from an Indian restaurant in Seattle), but occasionally Vinod, the chef, will surprise us with pasta, Chinese, pizza, and more. Dessert is always sweet, often fried, and incredible. Again this is all buffet style.
I’m not losing weight in India…
I don’t have to clean my room, wash my dishes, or do my laundry.
I share a comfortable private one room furnished cabin with beautiful views and a private bathroom (w/ toilet paper!!!) with my roommate Amity. Some people are uncomfortable with the amount of bugs, but having lived in the jungle in Costa Rica for a month I feel quite well trained, as long as there are no mosquitoes I’m happy.
This next week though my schedule will begin to be much more dense. I will be having Indian/salsa dance practice nearly every other day. I will be going to the women’s self help group meetings some days in different villages with some possible overnight stays.
We are adding another class when Professor Patak arrives to begin lessons in Indian history. Occasionally I go to the CHIRAG School to teach dance and movement to 3-6 year olds. Also by the end of the month our 2 projects/papers are due.
And so the next month will be packed with dance, classes, study, social observations, ecological research and experimenting, plenty of reading and writing, and of course eating.
I’m looking forward to finally feeling busy, though in many ways I have really enjoyed the past month of relaxation and reflection.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Corbett Pictures
I'm trying to upload some photos from Corbett but it's really difficult with the connection and the amount of time I have online.
Here's what is up so far...
http://picasaweb.google.co.in/ZyanyaKB/CorbettNationalPark
Here's what is up so far...
http://picasaweb.google.co.in/ZyanyaKB/CorbettNationalPark
Reflections and such.
April 19, 2008
This trip is giving me so much time to think, perhaps too much. It’s not that we aren’t doing anything but a lot of time is spent waiting, in discussion, or in reflection. Our weekly assignment is a 3-page paper reflecting on our readings, class time, and what we experience here, all pertaining to sustainable development. For me this is particularly pertinent since sustainable development is the focus for my life’s career and goals. Constantly thinking about the realities and uncertainties of sustainable development is meaningful and exhausting.
Last week we sat down with the original founder of CHIRAG (the organization we are working with), Kanai-Ji. He is 83 and sharper than me. One of the most incredible souls I have ever met. He told us about starting the organization, his challenges, and his view of development. His accomplishments in life shine through his contentedness and comfort in old age. I aspire to be as knowing and hospitable as him and his wife at their age.
====
I’ve also been reflecting on how I value friendship. I’m remembering how much shared experiences mean. It’s the accumulation of those moments that builds a friendship, whether through stories shared or actual events. And more importantly, how the friendship supports each individual to be happy and grow. One friend’s mistake is another one’s lesson. What one admires about the other encourages them to achieve. Differences in opinion make each re-examine self-principles and ideas.
It is not necessary to see eye-to-eye on all topics, but simply to respect each other for those differences. In fact, I believe the strongest friendships can come from people with many differences. It is someone you can connect with despite these differences that cultivates a true friendship.
====
So besides Corbett National Park here’s what’s happened in the past 2 weeks:
2 weekends ago I went to the nearest city, Nainital, with Amity and David. The whole group went for the day but they opted to pay jeeps to take them. The three of us decided we would rather take the local bus and stay the night. So we waited up at the road at 7:30am and hopped on the 2.5 hour bus to Biwali. From there we took a 30 minute ride to Nainital. It’s a cute city on a lake about the size of Lake Union. It vaguely resembles a Swiss town with the city on the lake and the mountains behind it. We spent a while walking around with our packs to find the best deal for a room. We settled on a room for 300 rupees/night for the 3 of us. So about $7.25 total for all three of us. It was a nice place too. We were really excited about having a TV with cable, a proper shower (we take bucket baths here), and room service! We had fun exploring the city and market. There was a protest going on by a group of Tibetan refugees that have market stalls there, which was really interesting and touching to see. Staring at a large photograph of the Dalai Lama in Northern India, while knowing he is speaking at the UW, was a little surreal. The next day we enjoyed a boat ride around the lake and took the bus back to Sonopani. It was definitely a bit of an adventure and a nice chance to get out on our own a little, away from the group, and feel a bit independent. I think the 3 of us, in particular, needed that. Everyone else seemed very happy to take a private vehicle and spend 4 hours in town.
Otherwise, we’ve been following the schedule of classes during the day at CHIRAG, and afternoons to study and relax. (Because life sounds really stressful here, right?)
We’ve been discussing our research projects for May, and I think I’ve decided to do research with the Women’s self help groups here. I’ll be interviewing women when they meet in their local groups once/month to ask questions related to when they seek out health care in their very busy lives of constantly working. Most of the women here do not even feed themselves 3 meals a day, and are chronically dehydrated because they do not carry water with them when they work in the forests collecting wood, fodder, and leaves for compost. Of the few medical facilities available, most doctors are men, making it more difficult for women to face seeking help. I’m excited to start meeting the women and hear their stories, I think it will be really interesting, culturally and personally.
And lastly, an exciting opportunity has presented itself to me. A couple nights ago two women who are living nearby and working for another nearby NGO came to Sonopani for dinner. Once is a doctor from New Orleans of Indian heritage, the other is an Indian teacher. The woman from New Orleans is a Salsa dancer. The two of them have been discussing teaching the children (ages 9-12) at the school Salsa as a way to break down some gender barriers, and foster a different relationship between the students. So they asked if I could teach them how to lead and follow, and how to teach it. In return the teacher, who is trained in classical Indian and Punjab dance, will teach us. Plus, in the end of May the NGO is planning a festival and they want to perform an Indian dance which they want me to participate in, as a way to bridge the gap between the two NGO’s. (And maybe even do a Salsa number.) I’m excited, we start tomorrow night!
This trip is giving me so much time to think, perhaps too much. It’s not that we aren’t doing anything but a lot of time is spent waiting, in discussion, or in reflection. Our weekly assignment is a 3-page paper reflecting on our readings, class time, and what we experience here, all pertaining to sustainable development. For me this is particularly pertinent since sustainable development is the focus for my life’s career and goals. Constantly thinking about the realities and uncertainties of sustainable development is meaningful and exhausting.
Last week we sat down with the original founder of CHIRAG (the organization we are working with), Kanai-Ji. He is 83 and sharper than me. One of the most incredible souls I have ever met. He told us about starting the organization, his challenges, and his view of development. His accomplishments in life shine through his contentedness and comfort in old age. I aspire to be as knowing and hospitable as him and his wife at their age.
====
I’ve also been reflecting on how I value friendship. I’m remembering how much shared experiences mean. It’s the accumulation of those moments that builds a friendship, whether through stories shared or actual events. And more importantly, how the friendship supports each individual to be happy and grow. One friend’s mistake is another one’s lesson. What one admires about the other encourages them to achieve. Differences in opinion make each re-examine self-principles and ideas.
It is not necessary to see eye-to-eye on all topics, but simply to respect each other for those differences. In fact, I believe the strongest friendships can come from people with many differences. It is someone you can connect with despite these differences that cultivates a true friendship.
====
So besides Corbett National Park here’s what’s happened in the past 2 weeks:
2 weekends ago I went to the nearest city, Nainital, with Amity and David. The whole group went for the day but they opted to pay jeeps to take them. The three of us decided we would rather take the local bus and stay the night. So we waited up at the road at 7:30am and hopped on the 2.5 hour bus to Biwali. From there we took a 30 minute ride to Nainital. It’s a cute city on a lake about the size of Lake Union. It vaguely resembles a Swiss town with the city on the lake and the mountains behind it. We spent a while walking around with our packs to find the best deal for a room. We settled on a room for 300 rupees/night for the 3 of us. So about $7.25 total for all three of us. It was a nice place too. We were really excited about having a TV with cable, a proper shower (we take bucket baths here), and room service! We had fun exploring the city and market. There was a protest going on by a group of Tibetan refugees that have market stalls there, which was really interesting and touching to see. Staring at a large photograph of the Dalai Lama in Northern India, while knowing he is speaking at the UW, was a little surreal. The next day we enjoyed a boat ride around the lake and took the bus back to Sonopani. It was definitely a bit of an adventure and a nice chance to get out on our own a little, away from the group, and feel a bit independent. I think the 3 of us, in particular, needed that. Everyone else seemed very happy to take a private vehicle and spend 4 hours in town.
Otherwise, we’ve been following the schedule of classes during the day at CHIRAG, and afternoons to study and relax. (Because life sounds really stressful here, right?)
We’ve been discussing our research projects for May, and I think I’ve decided to do research with the Women’s self help groups here. I’ll be interviewing women when they meet in their local groups once/month to ask questions related to when they seek out health care in their very busy lives of constantly working. Most of the women here do not even feed themselves 3 meals a day, and are chronically dehydrated because they do not carry water with them when they work in the forests collecting wood, fodder, and leaves for compost. Of the few medical facilities available, most doctors are men, making it more difficult for women to face seeking help. I’m excited to start meeting the women and hear their stories, I think it will be really interesting, culturally and personally.
And lastly, an exciting opportunity has presented itself to me. A couple nights ago two women who are living nearby and working for another nearby NGO came to Sonopani for dinner. Once is a doctor from New Orleans of Indian heritage, the other is an Indian teacher. The woman from New Orleans is a Salsa dancer. The two of them have been discussing teaching the children (ages 9-12) at the school Salsa as a way to break down some gender barriers, and foster a different relationship between the students. So they asked if I could teach them how to lead and follow, and how to teach it. In return the teacher, who is trained in classical Indian and Punjab dance, will teach us. Plus, in the end of May the NGO is planning a festival and they want to perform an Indian dance which they want me to participate in, as a way to bridge the gap between the two NGO’s. (And maybe even do a Salsa number.) I’m excited, we start tomorrow night!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Elephants, Tigers, and… Hanibus? Oh my.
Wednesday, April 16th, 2008
I’ve been waiting to write my next blog in anticipation of something exciting to tell about, however in the last several days things have built p and now I feel I have too much to write. But first, let me begin with the setting of where this entry is being written…
I am sitting approximately 80ft up on a watchtower in the middle of Corbett National Park. It’s 11am and already about 85-90 degrees F, though there’s a breeze. I was dropped here at 10:30am and will not be able to be picked up until 3pm due to park restrictions of automobile travel. No walking is allowed in the park so I must remain in the tower.
But don’t misunderstand me, I’m not complaining. This was my idea. (And yes Mother, I’m wearing sunscreen.)
Corbett National Park is an incredible sanctuary with large expanses of grassland and river flats greatly resembling the African Serengeti and forest that makes you feel you’ve been inserted into the story line of he Jungle Book. Plus the highest density of tigers in India (approximately 164 individuals currently).
We arrived yesterday afternoon. We took a 2-hr jeep ride at sunset and this morning at 5:45am. We didn’t see any tigers but we did see several species of deer, elephants a multidude of birds and raptors, and more. The different habitat types within the park are diverse.
(11:46am, Just spotted a tiger in the river taking a dip!)
The compound we are staying in is an area of about 5 city blocks surrounded by electric fencing. It consists of tourist housing, rangers housing, a first aid clinic, a restaurant, and the elephant’s barn. This morning after breakfast I was speaking with a ranger and he mentioned the possibility of going to the watchtower. I decided the prospect of a spectacular view, quiet, time to write, and the possibility of seeing a tiger sounded fantastic and told my group I was going I was pleasantly surprised when two, Pax and Vania, wanted to come as well, and welcomed the company.
We were dropped off and climbed the 4 rickety ladders to the top. The view is incredible, we have elephants foraging to the west, a watering hole to the south, and the river with a tiger bathing in it to the east. We were disappointed at first to find a rowdy group of Indian men arriving only to sit and play cards, loudly, without even looking around. What’s the point of being up in a watchtower, right?
But an amazing opportunity arrived when another jeep pulled up before 11am. Two tiger program officers from the World Wildlife Fund in D.C. and their guide, an Indian wildlife conservationist climbed up the tower and the guide promptly told the men, in Hindi, to shut-up if they were there to see tigers or leave if they weren’t. They quieted down.
Over the past couple hours I’ve gotten to know Shannon and Bernie of the WWF and their guide, Rajiv. It’s always exciting for me to meet people who have the careers I am perusing. I’ve exchanged contact info and I’m thinking about the opportunity to volunteer in a park in India to improve eco-tourism resources.
(1pm, 2nd tiger sighting, in similar area, bathing in the river. Definitely a male, he has a huge head and must be at least 7ft long)
Our time in the tower is almost over. We’ve seen 2 tigers at a distance bating in the river and a herd of 10 elephants with several babies came to drink at the watering hole just next door. I don’t want to descend, I could happily spend the night up here.
Well, I guess I passed the time without getting to the other things I wanted to cover for my blog. I’ll have to write another entry once I return to Sonopani.
--------- ---------
April 17th: As for the rest of my time in Corbett…
That evening we went out in the jeep again and saw another tiger. He was a juvenile, abot 2-3 years old, 5 ft long. We spotted him walking through the forest, absolutely stunning.
Our last morning I got to ride on an elephant through the river flats. We didn’t spot any more tigers but it was beautiful and a really cool experience.
As for the title of this entry: Corbett National Park is filled with fields of marijuana plants, it's every where. It grows like a, believe it or not, weed. It's bizarre to see something that is both extremely revered and spurned in the US just growing naturally all over the place.
I’ve been waiting to write my next blog in anticipation of something exciting to tell about, however in the last several days things have built p and now I feel I have too much to write. But first, let me begin with the setting of where this entry is being written…
I am sitting approximately 80ft up on a watchtower in the middle of Corbett National Park. It’s 11am and already about 85-90 degrees F, though there’s a breeze. I was dropped here at 10:30am and will not be able to be picked up until 3pm due to park restrictions of automobile travel. No walking is allowed in the park so I must remain in the tower.
But don’t misunderstand me, I’m not complaining. This was my idea. (And yes Mother, I’m wearing sunscreen.)
Corbett National Park is an incredible sanctuary with large expanses of grassland and river flats greatly resembling the African Serengeti and forest that makes you feel you’ve been inserted into the story line of he Jungle Book. Plus the highest density of tigers in India (approximately 164 individuals currently).
We arrived yesterday afternoon. We took a 2-hr jeep ride at sunset and this morning at 5:45am. We didn’t see any tigers but we did see several species of deer, elephants a multidude of birds and raptors, and more. The different habitat types within the park are diverse.
(11:46am, Just spotted a tiger in the river taking a dip!)
The compound we are staying in is an area of about 5 city blocks surrounded by electric fencing. It consists of tourist housing, rangers housing, a first aid clinic, a restaurant, and the elephant’s barn. This morning after breakfast I was speaking with a ranger and he mentioned the possibility of going to the watchtower. I decided the prospect of a spectacular view, quiet, time to write, and the possibility of seeing a tiger sounded fantastic and told my group I was going I was pleasantly surprised when two, Pax and Vania, wanted to come as well, and welcomed the company.
We were dropped off and climbed the 4 rickety ladders to the top. The view is incredible, we have elephants foraging to the west, a watering hole to the south, and the river with a tiger bathing in it to the east. We were disappointed at first to find a rowdy group of Indian men arriving only to sit and play cards, loudly, without even looking around. What’s the point of being up in a watchtower, right?
But an amazing opportunity arrived when another jeep pulled up before 11am. Two tiger program officers from the World Wildlife Fund in D.C. and their guide, an Indian wildlife conservationist climbed up the tower and the guide promptly told the men, in Hindi, to shut-up if they were there to see tigers or leave if they weren’t. They quieted down.
Over the past couple hours I’ve gotten to know Shannon and Bernie of the WWF and their guide, Rajiv. It’s always exciting for me to meet people who have the careers I am perusing. I’ve exchanged contact info and I’m thinking about the opportunity to volunteer in a park in India to improve eco-tourism resources.
(1pm, 2nd tiger sighting, in similar area, bathing in the river. Definitely a male, he has a huge head and must be at least 7ft long)
Our time in the tower is almost over. We’ve seen 2 tigers at a distance bating in the river and a herd of 10 elephants with several babies came to drink at the watering hole just next door. I don’t want to descend, I could happily spend the night up here.
Well, I guess I passed the time without getting to the other things I wanted to cover for my blog. I’ll have to write another entry once I return to Sonopani.
--------- ---------
April 17th: As for the rest of my time in Corbett…
That evening we went out in the jeep again and saw another tiger. He was a juvenile, abot 2-3 years old, 5 ft long. We spotted him walking through the forest, absolutely stunning.
Our last morning I got to ride on an elephant through the river flats. We didn’t spot any more tigers but it was beautiful and a really cool experience.
As for the title of this entry: Corbett National Park is filled with fields of marijuana plants, it's every where. It grows like a, believe it or not, weed. It's bizarre to see something that is both extremely revered and spurned in the US just growing naturally all over the place.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Train Stations in India are...
March 30th. 5pm
Sonopani is wonderful. It’s a property with 12 modest sized “cabins” for guests. To my surprise and excitement, each cabin has a private bathroom, with fully capable toilets (i.e. Toilet paper is used and provided!). The food is amazing. We’ve spent one relaxing day here of doing nothing but resting and eating. The view is spectacular and the weather ideal. Tomorrow we will continue to settle in (we have several students who are feeling slightly ill), begin to learn Hindi, and explore our surroundings by hiking the area. Right now it’s easy to forget we are in India (with the exception of the Himalayas looming in the background), we are being spoiled. I look forward to begin work with the NGO when we will start meeting the community and having weekend home stays.
Water bottles and chains for your luggage are the top commodities for sale. Everyone looks as though they’ve been waiting for their train for ages, even if they’ve just arrived.
People sleeping on filthy concrete along what seem like mile long platforms. It smells like piss. Children walk along the tracks rummaging through garbage, seemingly ignorant to the arrival of trains. All ranks of society are here; business men and women waiting for their 1st class AC coach to arrive, the homeless taking shelter from the pollution and dangers of the streets, families spread on a blanket, waiting. Yet, despite what seems like stagnant mayhem, these stations function, like everything else in India, with a different capability.
We rode 2ndsleeper-class AC. I found my upper bunk, #18. A thin platform with sheets and pillow provided. I padlocked/chained my bag below me, climbed up and slept wearing my money belt and hugging my daypack, containing my laptop, camera, and iPod. The train’s toilet technically provides the only fresh air, as the toilet is simply a metal basin opening to the rails below. We left congested, humid Delhi at 10:40pm and arrived at 6:00am in the mountains. A 2.5 hour car ride brought us through quickly approached switchbacks and oncoming traffic, amongst villages and forest. As the road turned to dirt we rounded a bend to reveal the spectacular view of the sharp, white peaks of the Himalayas towering in the distance. We walked a final 20 minutes down a path to Sonopani, our new home for the next 10 weeks.
-------------------------------------------
Much of the drive here reminded me of the Quilotoa region of Ecuador. The sloping farms and small towns, the people walking between work and home along the road. The larger houses dotting the landscape owned by the wealthy of Delhi as weekend retreats from the city heat resemble the haciendas. Small Hindu shrines and temples frequent the road, similar to the miniature churches so common throughout Latin America, representing the constant and essential presence of religion in their society. There is no abject poverty here, nor there. Am I drawing these inferences because this is the culture I am most familiar with? Or is there something to these observations? My group is constantly hearing me make comparisons and talk about experiences in Costa Rica, Guatemala, or Ecuador. Even in Delhi I noticed many similarities to Latin culture. The way the men dress and stare, the way the women walk together. However, the similarities stop at social interactions. Indians and Latinos are extremely different in personality. How does climate and geography contribute to cultural similarities? I’m sure the natives of Rajasthan would not impress upon me such comparisons. Could these similarities in rural settings allow for development policies and plans to be replicated between societies, or are the cultural differences too great to permit such generalization? Can culture be categorized by geography and societal structure, instead of solely ethnic heritage? (i.e. Can we develop similar standards between the nomads of Rajasthan and Somalia, and the indigenous of Papua New Guinea and the Amazon?)
Sonopani is wonderful. It’s a property with 12 modest sized “cabins” for guests. To my surprise and excitement, each cabin has a private bathroom, with fully capable toilets (i.e. Toilet paper is used and provided!). The food is amazing. We’ve spent one relaxing day here of doing nothing but resting and eating. The view is spectacular and the weather ideal. Tomorrow we will continue to settle in (we have several students who are feeling slightly ill), begin to learn Hindi, and explore our surroundings by hiking the area. Right now it’s easy to forget we are in India (with the exception of the Himalayas looming in the background), we are being spoiled. I look forward to begin work with the NGO when we will start meeting the community and having weekend home stays.
Friday, March 28, 2008
New Delhi
I'm here.
It's too hot to write. I will journal properly once I'm settled into our place in Sonopani.
P.S. if anyone wants to mail something to me (chocolate, hint hint)
here's an address:
Ashish Arora,C/O Mr. Jagtar Singh (Advocate)
Hydel Gate,
Kathgodam
District Nainital
pin:263126
Include my name somewhere on the package.
More to come...
It's too hot to write. I will journal properly once I'm settled into our place in Sonopani.
P.S. if anyone wants to mail something to me (chocolate, hint hint)
here's an address:
Ashish Arora,C/O Mr. Jagtar Singh (Advocate)
Hydel Gate,
Kathgodam
District Nainital
pin:263126
Include my name somewhere on the package.
More to come...
Monday, March 17, 2008
One Week
1 week left, 7 days. Shoot. I'm definitely starting to get excited for the experience, but not to leave. Finals will be done tomorrow for me, then I have to move out of my room, and, of course, say my goodbyes.
My goals for this blog during my trip:
Upload 10 best pictures each week.
At least one or two posts per week.
Superficial goals for the trip:
Be studious.
Do readings and work everyday.
Stretch every morning and evening.
Get in shape :)
Learn conversational Hindi.
Find a way to dance at least every other day.
Take good pictures.
Buy pretty things but not spend a lot of money (hey, it's India, right?)
Stay away from the internet, except to communicate with loved ones.
My goals for this blog during my trip:
Upload 10 best pictures each week.
At least one or two posts per week.
Superficial goals for the trip:
Be studious.
Do readings and work everyday.
Stretch every morning and evening.
Get in shape :)
Learn conversational Hindi.
Find a way to dance at least every other day.
Take good pictures.
Buy pretty things but not spend a lot of money (hey, it's India, right?)
Stay away from the internet, except to communicate with loved ones.
Monday, March 3, 2008
I leave in 3 weeks, when did that happen? Haven't done anything to get ready yet. I guess I'll just wait for finals to go by. Finals... I should probably start studying for those.
I'm not giving India much thought, I figure it will be what it is when I get there. I do know I'm definitely going to be very sad when I leave. And as of right now I'm not very excited.
I'm not giving India much thought, I figure it will be what it is when I get there. I do know I'm definitely going to be very sad when I leave. And as of right now I'm not very excited.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Ups and downs. Should life always be an amusement park ride?
The new hair cut. It's already grown out a lot, I'm going to cut it again next week...
So I have my visa for India now, as well as my flight. I leave March 26th and I return June 24th. I'm getting a little anxious about saying bye. I guess I'm not so much afraid to be gone for 3 months, as I am afraid to return after 3 months. India's going to be a good lesson in the "here and now," as my mother would say. I have no doubt it will be an incredible experience and trip, but I hope I will be able to enjoy it fully without thinking of Seattle too much...
Should life always be an amusement-park ride?
On a more positive note, I'm going to NY right after I return, June 26th for 2 weeks. It's my grandparent's 50th anniversary so the whole family is meeting there for a party. Hopefully I'll meet up with Maggie in the city... And we'll spend some time in the Hamptons. I'm very excited.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
