This is It

     I wrote about the end of my time on ISP, and all of a sudden my time on SIT itself is over too. It took some slaving away over a hot laptop, but everything is hot back in Jaipur so its not that dramatic. As soon as I got back to Pink City, it felt like an unstoppable ride, marked by small accomplishments that have to get done one by one until suddenly you are in a totally different state. I was moving into the guest house, then putting one more page into words, then formatting and binding when suddenly I had finished my junior year of college. Wait, what - when did that happen?

Ladies in saris! Only for the special occasion of the end-of-semester banquet.

      To complicate the emotional burden of accomplishing a field research paper in a foreign country, my family is here to take me around and tour with me. It's been great and also jarring. The rest of the family has been hitting up tourist sites around the Golden Triangle, so when I first went to see them early Friday morning, they each burst into tears. I honestly could not tell if they were ecstatic to see me or just miserable from the adjustment to India (it can be a little overwhelming at first). They tried to explain it like this: "We are so happy to see you! ...And we are sooo tired."

My parents and my parents! Two worlds collide...

At the Hawa Mahal, one of Jaipur's signature attractions.

      The weekend was complicated by balancing the end of a semester with the beginning of a family trip, so I was giving presentations in the hotel outside of town in the morning then roping a taxing to bring me back to hangout with both my biological and host families, and haggle with all of my 'dost' in the Old City markets. So fun, so exhausting. I am starting to see why they burst into tears.

Action shot! Looks like we are mid-haggle in the bangle shop.

     On Sunday night, I took my dad and my sister to the new release of "Ishaqzaade," a modern day Romeo and Juliet set in India. The Raj Mandir is Jaipur's nicest theater, which does not mean that babies or cell phones are not implicitly encouraged to make noise throughout the film. Nadine, my fellow Bollywood enthusiast, came to meet us and we just hollered along with the rest of the crowd. Here is a hit song from the film, which Nadine and I knew almost by heart in the theater, so we were just as excited as the rest of the theater when Parineeti burst into song:

     Now school is done, and I am missing the crazy, manic atmosphere of Jaipur, the dry heat of Rajasthan and the company of the amazing people that I spent the semester with, both students and staff. I miss the unstoppable chaos of Jaipur traffic and surprising rickshaw drivers with Hindi and in turn being surprised by the size of their families. I miss the energy of everyone moving all at once to what seems to be nowhere in particular.

Getting into the tourist scene by taking pictures of the catch near the Chinese fishing nets in Kochin.

After so much luxury, I of course made it my mission to buy a jackfruit, a huge, foreign-looking fruit. That quest took us down a few alley ways and into the vegetable market, which freaked some people out (see Anna, Mom) and made me ecstatic.

   But I am also tired, and excited to relax with my family here. Now we are in Kerala, a magical state by all accounts with miraculously high literacy rates and health standards. Everything in Kerala is like heaven, according to anyone who lives anywhere else in India. I might miss the chaos of Jaipur, but I am also tired from moving all the time, and looking forward to getting back stateside and trying out the adventure of staying in one place for a little bit. I don't think I've slept in the same bed for longer than 6 consecutive nights since I got to India, and I am wearing a little thin. Maybe there are some advantages to life back in the States.
    For now, time to just relax.

Sisters splitting a roadside coconut.

Darjeeling Days are Over

 

My time in Darjeeling is done! My paper is not but it is closer than ever, and I am back in Jaipur, where it is hot the way India should be in the month of May.  It was pretty incredible to be able to pass a week of my life in such a beautiful place, but I am really happy that my schedule keeps moving forward. But, here's a few more shots of life around West Bengal's most famous tea-producing district. 

One spot where I would never, ever, ever get a tattoo.

From the communist, pro-Gorkhaland rally on May 1st, Labor Day.

Our cabin's conductor-like man taking in the sights during our "joy ride" on the toy train.

Truly, some things are universal.

A monastery!

A view of  one part of town.

An employee of Nathmull's, the famous tea shop of Darjeeling.

Just two ladies enjoying a Saturday morning ride on a coal-powered petite train.

Finals

Another shot of Kanchenjunga and Mt. Everest, hopefully a little more visible! Also, finals sucks.

Darjeeling Diary

    My week in Darjeeling is rushing by - what a difference being with a friend makes. The geography of this part of the world is pretty similar to that of Gangtok, except that it is more mountainous and more open. I would show photos to prove that, but as I have mentioned before, my camera fails pretty badly at capturing the depths and scope of mountain ranges. Instead, here's some photos to show how the Nepali influence on the whole region mixes together with the British legacy to make for a pretty unique looking place.
  Unfortunately, all that stands between me and freedom is one lengthy paper on earthquake preparedness, so I am putting a lot of energy into pretending to write that and hating word processing programs. Wish me luck on my paper!

The Champagne of Teas! That's golden Darjeeling tea.

See those mountains, in the middle of the shot? Thats Kachenjunga! and Everest! (and a mysterious smudge on my camera lens that shows up when I use the zoom).

From inside the tourist shop.

A more familiar sight, within same tourist shop.

I pass this delightful (read: creepy) church on my walk home.

Another part of the walk home - notice no flat surface in sight. There are 70 steps in this portion (Colleen counted for me).

Just one of the many many signs proclaiming that we are in the state of Gorkhaland - a state defined ethnically by the tea workers who feel disenfranchised from West Bengal and India at large. Gorkhaland does not exist yet in any political body - but don't tell the shopkeepers.

Cafe Hopping

Mr. Bean - Avatar - Mr. Bean as Avatar, in The Nettle and Fern

     I have entered the last week of my Independent Study Period, which is the period that is suggested for compiling and synthesizing research into your final paper of the semester. As such, many people move locations to treat themselves, or at least get a change of scenery, as they put together the interviews and insights into a meaningful stream of thoughts. I am following the trend and have moved from Gangtok to Darjeeling, a four hour jeep ride away to the south, in West Bengal. Farewell Sikkim!
      I had planned to spend Friday afternoon in The Nettle and Fern, my favorite, wi-fi supplied cafe in Gangtok, just a block or two down from my advisor's office, writing about the good parts of life in Sikkim and wrapping up my time there. Unfortunately life had other plans, and I woke up around midnight on Thursday to vomit for the first time on this trip. It was an unexpected surprise, and somewhat challenging to navigate aiming and balance with the eastern toilet in the apartment. I have a lot more thoughts on that topic, but they are all pretty gross, so I won't write them here.
   Anyways, instead of flitting about town, I stayed in bed all of Friday napping and waiting for my stomach to settle down. By Saturday morning, I had bounced back enough to pile into a shared Jeep with all of my bags and drive and up and down from Gangtok to Darjeeling.
    I am staying in the same homestay as my friend Colleen, and it is really nice to be reunited with a close friend here. She has already begun taking on the role of tour guide, as well as tea guide - her independent project is all about tea and its production here. I have never been so well hydrated or so happy at once. This morning, when we woke up, we looked out from our rooftop room to be greeted by a view of Kanchengjunga, the world's third highest peak. If we can get a view on a clearer day, we will be able to see Mt. Everest, so I am hoping the clouds oblige sometime in the next week.
    Darjeeling is less developed and more mountainous than Gangtok, but I don't think I will miss seeing some of the aggressively westernized options leering out from the storefronts.

A common offering in Gangtok.

 We are settled into the favorite western-style bakery in Darjeeling, a powdered-sugar smelling cafe called Glenary's. They are big into Darjeeling tea here - so I am lapping it up, milk-free. What a nice change!

More Things that Can Scare Me

I have also seen exactly 2 bunny cans, but I haven't been able to take a picture yet.

This what all of the trash cans look like in Sikkim - something like construction monkeys. It's a little bit nice, because at least there are trash cans here. But also, they are pretty scary looking. 

Also, when I first crossed the border, I had to register with the state, and I had a empty soda bottle with me. When I asked where to throw it away, the gruff border patrol man said, "Put it in the monkey..." That was a weird sentence to hear at the time, and it's still weird now.

Gone off the Grid

    On Friday morning, my advisor called me around 7:30 in the morning to tell me to catch a taxi to a village that afternoon. "No - I don't want to go today. I have interviews set up - I need to. go. tomorrow." was my spritely, morning-ready response, but to no avail. I passed the phone to Lauren, in the next room over who is apparently better with mornings, who thankfully got the details about where, when and whom we'd be seeing this weekend. I called to postpone the interview, and a few hours and frantic light-packing later, we headed to the taxi stand in Gangtok to ride to Payung, a few hours south.
    The Jeep packed 14 people into it for the three-hourish ride, including 6 in our row alone. It was a little tight. It was an exciting way to start the weekend, because the daily routine of afternoon downpour began just as we crossed into the district of South Sikkim, obscuring the other side of the valley in a thick mist and adding the extra element of suspense to the drive as we careened up the gravel roads. Often, there is no guard rail between the road and the expanse that is decidedly not the road - a sudden drop off for trees and mist. Also, as it began to rain, the jeep's stereo system finally kicked in. To put it more simply, it was a kick-ass drive.

   I was intercepted in the Jeep by Gitanath, who informed me that my host for the weekend had been in the front of the Jeep the whole time. My traveling buddy got out to go to her new weekend home, while I rode an extra few turns up the side of the mountain and was welcomed through the rain to my new home for the weekend. The Sharmas were a lovely family in Payung, and their new daughter-in-law, whose name sounded something like Prahmela (as far as I could tell, like 'Pamela" with an R lodged in there somewhere) was my in-home translator. Besides Pramela's English, the entire family spoke Nepali exclusively. Even though there was a severe language barrier, I really felt welcomed by the family who fed me very delicious village food - which means piles of rice, leafy greens (various Nepali-named 'saags') and tons of pickles and curd. I also had some really good tea.

Looking out on the back porch, towards the valley.

   When we were leaving for ISP, my friend Kate, who is a biology major and therefore knows everything about the world, observed the amazing extent to which the pop culture part of my brain has developed. Warned that the internet was going to be spotty up north, she asked me what I would turn into with my pop culture muscle cut off. Would I atrophy? Grow intelligent and creative original thoughts? Well, after spending some time in the village without laptop, iPod, or (foolishly) even a book, I can finally answer her - I just struggle even harder to connect my life to pre-existing cultural moments. Balancing down irrigation canals with my guide, I could not help but think of Lost Boys exploring the wilds of Never Never Land.

Me, all weekend, but in three dimensions.

Encountering rickety rope bridges and fragile looking suspension brides, I was flashing back to Indiana Jones (but the Jeep rides were priming me for that one). I was delighted by every bizarre instance of Western culture that popped up in Payung, from the Justin Bieber playing off of a cell phone in the Jeep ride there, to the Celine Dion song that Pramela played for me on Sunday night before bed. "I just love this song, na?"

Just like every Indian host I have encountered so far, my own shoes were unacceptable and I was lent a pair of household slippers. In Payung, they were Angry Birds flip flops.

It was a really good weekend for collecting interviews and just walking around. Although that is not to say it went without some hiccups. On the first night, after I arrived, I was making my way through the awkward dinner that inevitably follows when a stranger shows up a family's home. I was mid-bite on a scoop of rice when my weekend 'amma' said something in Nepali that could have either been degrading or very reassuring. Pramela was a little casual in the pace of her translation, so about two minutes later, she told me very enthusiastically "She says... do NOT! feel awkward!" which made me burst out laughing for simply being so warm. Then all of a sudden, some of the bite of rice flew right out of my mouth, making me laugh even harder. I'm not sure if the family saw the rice fly, so it was pretty much just the foreigner cracking up in the corner.

Then there was the incident with this guy:

That thick black line is about 3 inches wide, just to give a sense of scale.

When I was shown my room, a very nice four-walled, 2 twin-bed furnished digs, I sat on one bed while Pramhela sat on the other. And then I looked to the left of her thigh and saw the biggest spider that I have ever seen in the wild. Or in the same bedroom as me. It was not a tarantula, but was of comparable size, in my opinion. I looked at the spider. I looked at Pramela. And I courageously said, "Wow - that's uh, a pretty big spider!" And she went to get a magazine to scoop him up and toss him out. Unfortunately, besides being big, he was also fast, and disappeared behind the bed before he could be evicted. And then Pramela and her husband dropped off my blankets, and left the room. And then he reappeared, on the far wall. I tried to take a picture without the flash so he wouldn't get mad, but I think he still got mad because he started moving before I could take a shot in focus. And then he hid under side table, and (I thought) disappeared under the bed. Then Pramela came back in to make my bed, despite my protests that I could do it fine on my own, and I told her that I was a little scared of that spider. So she and her husband moved the bed away from the wall, away from the headboard wall, and then picked up one end of the bed to shine a flashlight. No sign of the spider, though. So Pramela told me that if it came back, I could knock on her door next-door to get some help. But putting my fears to rest, I took one for the team and just went to bed. When we all got up at 6 the next morning, she asked me about the spider - "Did it come back? I was sooooo afraid all night that you would knock on my door!" She also mentioned it the following night and morning (is your friend back?) so there was just no living that down.