Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Lungi in Action
Photo Potpourri
 |
| Henna-ed hands! |
 |
| Jyoti-ji, one of our Hindi teachers, color-coordinated with the school. |
 |
| One particularly intense, film-ready guard at the Taj Mahal. |
 |
| Chillin. |
 |
| Holy Cow! Chillin in Jaipur. |
 |
| Carpe diem! And seize the shot too! |
I haven't taken too many photos recently, but I have a large back catalog of things that the world needs to see. So here are some, in order from recent to very old.
I tried Googling 'study abroad cliches' so that I could write my most cliched post, but the results were not what I was hoping for. Let's just say I am 'growing a lot,' 'learning a lot about the world' and 'broadening my horizons' within our 'diverse' 'global village.' 'This is a life changing experience." "it's just going by so fast!"
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Back in Rajasthan
I am safe and sound back in my normal homestay. I know my last post was about how weird the day was at the university, and the rest of the week was just as strange. I had more lectures to no one, used microphones in empty rooms, got shown laboratories where we just stared blankly at expensive research equipment with no explanation, and spent a lot of time sweating.
We had some good times, but they were mostly couched in long moments of stress, repeating what you wanted, and lots of sighs. Our fieldtrips about trash got repetitive, we ordered in at the hostel too many nights from too small a menu, and our food came too often in plastic bags. I have seen vermi compost centers three times since I've been in India, which is 3 more than Ive seen in America and 2 more than I needed to pursue here.
A perfect sample of my Chennai experience can be summed up by the events of Wednesday afternoon. Completing our lectures early to a room of only ourselves, my study abroad peers and staff chaperone for the trip, the homestay advisor, ate lunch at the university, then sat and waited for about 20 minutes in the deans office to come to the school. From there, we loaded into the cab, and our homestay advisor, Rama, told us that we would be going to the mall. She had talked to someone, they recommended it, and so we would go. It would probably take an hour.
Once we got in the car, three of squashed into the non-AC backseat, we heard Rama blunder through conversation with the cab driver. Being that Chennai is in Tamil Nadu, everyone speaks Tamil and maybe some English, so we heard them negotiate talking about how long it would take - actually closer to an hour and half. So we slept and sweated in the back, until we pulled up to a huge mall in the middle of a low but dense urban area, and piled out of the car, rushing through the humidity into the mall. The mall was a bizarre piece of Americana excess in the middle of India - Burberry, Hush Puppies and an Aldo were among the stores, as well as a movie theater showing English, Hindi and Tamil language films. There was also a food court with a special KFC and Pizza Hut (pizza, in India, is pronounced with a softer z, like the end of quiz). The five of us walked around the mall exactly like a group of four 20-somethings with very different fashion tastes and needs and a middle-aged Indian surrogate mom would: haphazardly. Furthermore, no matter what store we paused in front of, our Indian mom told us that everything it sold would be available in Jaipur as well. As she had said that about everything in Chennai - from coconuts and beach games to humidity and lungis - we had to take it with a grain of salt.
Then the 4 students decided to assert ourselves by picking a restaurant out of Lonely Planet and convincing Rama to get our cab to go there, which also involved taking a walk past the food court just to make sure that we didn't want anything there. We didn't.
Our pick from LP was an American diner, run by American ex-pats with pictures of Frank Sinatra on the walls. We piled back in the cab, sat for 15 minutes waiting to get out of the mall parking lot. On this particular leg, I was seated in the front of the car, where one student inevitably sat between Rama and the driver - the exact spot where one's right leg was inevitably in the way of the car's gear stick. So we waited, then drove, then asked for directions 4 times, then came very close to finding the American diner, and then a rickshaw man told us that diner was in the middle of a 2 month closure for renovation. Too sick of hostel food to call it a night and drive the now half-hour long drive home, we picked another restaurant from LP and started off again.
Our taxi driver didn't know this place - Tuscana - or the neighborhood - something that sounds like Nungabukum - or the region within the 'hood -Wallace Gardens. No matter - we went off. About 20 minutes later, and 4 songs of ABBA sung in duet with Rama in the front seat, and we were close - misleading close - to the restaurant. And then we made a wrong turn, down a one way street, so we had to circle back. Then we made the same wrong turn again. So we circled back.And then we circled again. For the third time.
Finally asserting my reading ability from the front seat, I pointed out that rather than making the same turn a fourth time, we should probably turn left as both 1st and 2nd street were on the left, and presumably Tuscana, located on 3rd street, would also be on the left, rather than to the right, which by the way, we had checked three times already. We turned left, then turned down the street after 2nd, which turned out to be 2nd again. BUT it connected to Third, so lo and behold - we had arrived.
Two pasta dishes, one pizza, and a calzone, prepared by an Italian expat, and we were 4 happier campers. Then we piled back in the taxi, sweated our way home, and watched some Bollywood music videos and called it a night.
Key words here: hot, humid, lost, language barrier, culture gap, and ultimately, goals somewhat met.
Alright alright, enough with the whining - here are some photos:
We had some good times, but they were mostly couched in long moments of stress, repeating what you wanted, and lots of sighs. Our fieldtrips about trash got repetitive, we ordered in at the hostel too many nights from too small a menu, and our food came too often in plastic bags. I have seen vermi compost centers three times since I've been in India, which is 3 more than Ive seen in America and 2 more than I needed to pursue here.
A perfect sample of my Chennai experience can be summed up by the events of Wednesday afternoon. Completing our lectures early to a room of only ourselves, my study abroad peers and staff chaperone for the trip, the homestay advisor, ate lunch at the university, then sat and waited for about 20 minutes in the deans office to come to the school. From there, we loaded into the cab, and our homestay advisor, Rama, told us that we would be going to the mall. She had talked to someone, they recommended it, and so we would go. It would probably take an hour.
Once we got in the car, three of squashed into the non-AC backseat, we heard Rama blunder through conversation with the cab driver. Being that Chennai is in Tamil Nadu, everyone speaks Tamil and maybe some English, so we heard them negotiate talking about how long it would take - actually closer to an hour and half. So we slept and sweated in the back, until we pulled up to a huge mall in the middle of a low but dense urban area, and piled out of the car, rushing through the humidity into the mall. The mall was a bizarre piece of Americana excess in the middle of India - Burberry, Hush Puppies and an Aldo were among the stores, as well as a movie theater showing English, Hindi and Tamil language films. There was also a food court with a special KFC and Pizza Hut (pizza, in India, is pronounced with a softer z, like the end of quiz). The five of us walked around the mall exactly like a group of four 20-somethings with very different fashion tastes and needs and a middle-aged Indian surrogate mom would: haphazardly. Furthermore, no matter what store we paused in front of, our Indian mom told us that everything it sold would be available in Jaipur as well. As she had said that about everything in Chennai - from coconuts and beach games to humidity and lungis - we had to take it with a grain of salt.
Then the 4 students decided to assert ourselves by picking a restaurant out of Lonely Planet and convincing Rama to get our cab to go there, which also involved taking a walk past the food court just to make sure that we didn't want anything there. We didn't.
Our pick from LP was an American diner, run by American ex-pats with pictures of Frank Sinatra on the walls. We piled back in the cab, sat for 15 minutes waiting to get out of the mall parking lot. On this particular leg, I was seated in the front of the car, where one student inevitably sat between Rama and the driver - the exact spot where one's right leg was inevitably in the way of the car's gear stick. So we waited, then drove, then asked for directions 4 times, then came very close to finding the American diner, and then a rickshaw man told us that diner was in the middle of a 2 month closure for renovation. Too sick of hostel food to call it a night and drive the now half-hour long drive home, we picked another restaurant from LP and started off again.
Our taxi driver didn't know this place - Tuscana - or the neighborhood - something that sounds like Nungabukum - or the region within the 'hood -Wallace Gardens. No matter - we went off. About 20 minutes later, and 4 songs of ABBA sung in duet with Rama in the front seat, and we were close - misleading close - to the restaurant. And then we made a wrong turn, down a one way street, so we had to circle back. Then we made the same wrong turn again. So we circled back.And then we circled again. For the third time.
Finally asserting my reading ability from the front seat, I pointed out that rather than making the same turn a fourth time, we should probably turn left as both 1st and 2nd street were on the left, and presumably Tuscana, located on 3rd street, would also be on the left, rather than to the right, which by the way, we had checked three times already. We turned left, then turned down the street after 2nd, which turned out to be 2nd again. BUT it connected to Third, so lo and behold - we had arrived.
Two pasta dishes, one pizza, and a calzone, prepared by an Italian expat, and we were 4 happier campers. Then we piled back in the taxi, sweated our way home, and watched some Bollywood music videos and called it a night.
Key words here: hot, humid, lost, language barrier, culture gap, and ultimately, goals somewhat met.
Alright alright, enough with the whining - here are some photos:
 |
| This sign inexplicably showed up on Wednesday of our week at the university - and I think disappeared for the remaining days. We are the "Undergraduate Students of the United States of America" that it is calling out. Note that no other people are in this picture. |
 |
| We all bought saris! And then enjoyed our best approximation of a nice stiff drink to take the edge of the very sweaty day. |
 |
| We are literally staring at a big tank of trash. |
 |
| I rode a horse at the beach! The young gentlemen helping me on the horse told me his name was Bruce Lee - "Yes, like fight.. like dragon.. enter the fist!" |
 |
| Guilty. I had to go shooting again. It was so fun! I did so good this time too. I got 4 out of 5. |
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Flashback!
Today, I bought two pairs of lungi. They are very popular among the men here in Tamil Nadu. As our local guide for the day, a student at the university where we have been visiting this week, told me, lungi are great where you "free ball." How fun!
Here's an old friend who can tell us how to wear them:
Here's an old friend who can tell us how to wear them:
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Adventures in Workshop
Monday morning, I started my exploration into waste management. We are working with a waste management program at a university here, which I don't want to mention by name in the unusual instance that random googlers would find this blog. Long story short: our visit to the university on Monday was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life.
Long story long:
We arrived at the university and began looking for the head of the program, who will be our host. We were directed to an office in the palatial university hall, where an Indian woman behind a desk greeted us. Then she began asking questions such as "So.. you are American?" and "So.. here for just a week then?" that would have been previous knowledge for the person hosting us, or so we would have thought. Turns out that she was not our host, but a dean of the college, and after about half an hour and a round of chai, we finally met our host.
Then we went to meet the university's chancellor, which turned out to mean waiting in a separate waiting room for about half an hour (and a round of chai). The room was bright pink, and had recently changed the curtains, but all of the old curtains sat along the opposite wall from our chairs. And that was all that was in the room. So we waited, then spoke with the chancellor, which is another story altogether.
Next, we went to our classroom for the day, where the guest lecturer was awarded a plaque, then we clapped, then she started using a microphone to talk, then we had to use a separate microphone to introduce ourselves. Then our lecture started, with a break about 10 minutes in to take photos of all of us together. Then lecture continued, followed by a microphoned Q and A afterwards.
I am noting the use of microphones because of the small scale of our group and large scale of everything else. Let me show, rather than tell:
Then we went for lunch, where the same dean who didn't know us in the morning sat and talked with us for about half of the time, and on her phone for the other half. While all 6 of us women ate, a staff of about 15 men watched and attempted to serve us - which was even more particular because it was buffet style so we served our own food.
Then we went back to the same loosely populated lecture hall, and the head of the program introduced herself and then we had a brief discussion. Then, back to the dean's office for more chai.
All in all - really strange day.
Long story long:
We arrived at the university and began looking for the head of the program, who will be our host. We were directed to an office in the palatial university hall, where an Indian woman behind a desk greeted us. Then she began asking questions such as "So.. you are American?" and "So.. here for just a week then?" that would have been previous knowledge for the person hosting us, or so we would have thought. Turns out that she was not our host, but a dean of the college, and after about half an hour and a round of chai, we finally met our host.
Then we went to meet the university's chancellor, which turned out to mean waiting in a separate waiting room for about half an hour (and a round of chai). The room was bright pink, and had recently changed the curtains, but all of the old curtains sat along the opposite wall from our chairs. And that was all that was in the room. So we waited, then spoke with the chancellor, which is another story altogether.
Next, we went to our classroom for the day, where the guest lecturer was awarded a plaque, then we clapped, then she started using a microphone to talk, then we had to use a separate microphone to introduce ourselves. Then our lecture started, with a break about 10 minutes in to take photos of all of us together. Then lecture continued, followed by a microphoned Q and A afterwards.
I am noting the use of microphones because of the small scale of our group and large scale of everything else. Let me show, rather than tell:
 |
| Packed room. |
Then we went for lunch, where the same dean who didn't know us in the morning sat and talked with us for about half of the time, and on her phone for the other half. While all 6 of us women ate, a staff of about 15 men watched and attempted to serve us - which was even more particular because it was buffet style so we served our own food.
Then we went back to the same loosely populated lecture hall, and the head of the program introduced herself and then we had a brief discussion. Then, back to the dean's office for more chai.
All in all - really strange day.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Pondicherry Daytrippin'
Living it up in the south! Our Sunday was spent traipsing down the coast to the French colony's remains in Pondicherry.
 |
| Salt fields. |
 |
| I gave this elephant a rupee and it blessed me! |
 |
| That same ugly shell art that exists everywhere exists in Pondicherry too! |
 |
| Huge statue of Gandhi-ji |
 |
| Tribal man walking by on the road, showing more skin than I will be able to for the whole time I am in this country. |
 |
| View at Lunch |
Going South
Our class has separated into five groups for this week, considered our "workshop" period, and headed into five different cities of India. Some are headed to farms outside of Rajasthan's own Udaipur, some are north to Sikkim, others in Varanasi and Pune, but I have taken up the noble cause of waste management. And for that, we have come to Chennai.
I know many many lines of this by heart. I'm not totally sure why.
For a while, it was not totally clear if we were going to learn about solid waste (aka trash) or liquid trash (aka poop), so let me just clear the air - its solid. We are all about reducing, reusing and recycling for the week. Most importantly though, it's about breaking off and doing your own thing in a group of 4 students instead of 22, so my little group has decided to treat this venture down south as our Spring Break trip, as we don't actually get any time allotted for a break in the middle of our program.
Here is a taste of how crazy we plan on getting this week:
I know many many lines of this by heart. I'm not totally sure why.
For a while, it was not totally clear if we were going to learn about solid waste (aka trash) or liquid trash (aka poop), so let me just clear the air - its solid. We are all about reducing, reusing and recycling for the week. Most importantly though, it's about breaking off and doing your own thing in a group of 4 students instead of 22, so my little group has decided to treat this venture down south as our Spring Break trip, as we don't actually get any time allotted for a break in the middle of our program.
Here is a taste of how crazy we plan on getting this week:
 |
| Rooftop. Ladder. Our guest house for the week. Not so crazy though. |
To the Skies!
On Saturday, I had the opportunity to travel in a plane. To do that, I had to go to the airport in Jaipur. I already talked about the train station in Jaipur, which if you need a refresher, check out here.
To put it simply, the airport was the complete opposite of the train station. Where as the train station is packed with people sleeping on the floor, on the benches, hanging out, talking, standing, peeing, and doing lots of other things, there was almost no one in the airport. The airport had armed guards at the entry way to the parking lot, the entry way to the airport terminal, through bag check, and once more through personal screening.
There were some clothing boutiques, a bookstore, and multiple snack vendors inside to serve the tiny number of airplane passengers, which seemed odd considering you have to chase down must food at the train station, or at least yell your way into service. All in all, the difference was bizarre.
The journey seemed especially political this week because the tax on train tickets went up, to much guffawing and political out roar. To quote my host dad, it was a tragedy of epic proportions because "The train is the way that India's middle class travels. Planes are for the rich!"
[Side Note: ..while I completely respect his opinion on affordable transit, I am not sure how much I agree with his general opinion on taxes ( they are bad). He was upset at recent tax increases for other goods, even when levied against things that you try to deter purchase of (namely, cigarettes) which seemed pretty logical to me.]
So, about the plane itself - what a wonderful time! Classical music while we boarded and landed played through the cabin, and it generally felt like being in the 1960s with some very attractive young women as our flight attendants. And one had a lovely bob!
To put it simply, the airport was the complete opposite of the train station. Where as the train station is packed with people sleeping on the floor, on the benches, hanging out, talking, standing, peeing, and doing lots of other things, there was almost no one in the airport. The airport had armed guards at the entry way to the parking lot, the entry way to the airport terminal, through bag check, and once more through personal screening.
There were some clothing boutiques, a bookstore, and multiple snack vendors inside to serve the tiny number of airplane passengers, which seemed odd considering you have to chase down must food at the train station, or at least yell your way into service. All in all, the difference was bizarre.
The journey seemed especially political this week because the tax on train tickets went up, to much guffawing and political out roar. To quote my host dad, it was a tragedy of epic proportions because "The train is the way that India's middle class travels. Planes are for the rich!"
[Side Note: ..while I completely respect his opinion on affordable transit, I am not sure how much I agree with his general opinion on taxes ( they are bad). He was upset at recent tax increases for other goods, even when levied against things that you try to deter purchase of (namely, cigarettes) which seemed pretty logical to me.]
 |
| Not my picture, but you get the idea. Very Pan Am. |
So, about the plane itself - what a wonderful time! Classical music while we boarded and landed played through the cabin, and it generally felt like being in the 1960s with some very attractive young women as our flight attendants. And one had a lovely bob!
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Then and Now - India Edition!
 |
| Last Weekend: Thar Desert |
 |
| This Weekend: Bay of Bengal |
 |
| Last Sunday! I am in that picture! |
 |
| This Sunday! I am not in that picture! (I took it). |
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
The Big Two-One
I made it to 21! I woke up yesterday morning when my mumma and didi woke me, then gave me gifts! Right there in my bed! After a phone call with my (biological) mumma and buppa, I went off to school for a normal day. My family treated me to a dinner out at a south Indian restaurant, to get me ready for a trip south next week. Sadly the restaurant served no alcohol, so I order a Diet Coke, pretended it was spiked and enjoyed my dosa. Then we went for ice cream!
All in all, a nice birthday.
More birthday photos below...
Monday, March 12, 2012
Golden Ticket
After about 2 weeks solid of class before Holi, it felt like a well-deserved break. Spent Friday afternoon seeing a Bollywood movie with one Hindi teacher and 6 classmates, then hopped on a midnight train and woke up in Jaisalmer. Easy.
We were met at the train station by Delboy, owner of Trotters Camel Safari, a pun that was not explained to me until about 7 PM by a British couple with us on the dunes. Please see the following if you are as American as I: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Del_Boy
Long story short - sleeping over night in the desert, watching the sun set and rise over the dunes, and seeing the moon bright orange as it rose was pretty phenomenal.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Holi Hai!
Today is Holi! Let the colors be thrown!
 |
| Holi color for sale in Jodhpur |
Jodhpur
| Jodhpur was great. The city is not as blue as Jaipur is pink, but there are enough picturesque buildings, temples, forts, havelis and antiques shops to keep me happy for a few days.  |
| The Clock Tower in Jodhpur |
 |
| Central marketplace in the Blue City |
 |
| Fort lit up at night, as seen from our restaurant on the second night |
 |
| Ganesh! Ganesh is the remover of obstacles in Hinduism |
 |
| Daytime shot of the fort with the Blue City surrounding it |
 |
| One of our favorite shopkeepers yet! His nails were painted and he enjoyed showing them off to us |
Tooth Hurty
 |
| The Dentist of Jodhpur - I realize now that the tooth and bite molds are out of the frame, as are the bike gears that were sitting next to them, but take my word for it - they were there. |
"The Dentist of Jaipur"
Village Voice
The view from the bus - a cow and then sandstorm.
One of the meetings we took from Bikaner was a half-day trip to a rural school, the NGO that runs programs in that area, and one village in the area. In the meeting with the NGO, we talked about the lack of schools in the area, lack of access to water, and poor health care. Like many places that we have visited, the details about basic schooling are hard to hear - a significant distance for elementary school kids to walk until about grade 5, where the school becomes even further and more unrealistic to attend. A bevy of other normal factors in the American education system are conspicuously absent (ie, a teacher is in the classroom). Trying to think of new ways to ask "But really, what else is a problem around here?", I asked if they would expand or open a service, which they would pick. The representative answered maternal health, as care for mothers as well as infants is lacking, especially for their daughters. Female infanticide and foeticide is high in that area.
Once we got to the village, we split into two groups to interview either the men or the women. We are 22 students, but 4 boys and 18 girls, of which many are interested in womens studies or empowerment, so I thought I was making a minority decision to talk with the men. Once 18 of us were headed to the men's area, I decided to swap teams and go talk with the women to even out the number in either group, and accidentally ended up having a really tough time with the answers they gave.
I wanted to follow up on the NGO's claim that maternal health was an issue, so I asked our translator (one of our Hindi teachers) to ask, "What do you hope for when your child is born? To be healthy? To be a boy?" I had added the two modifying questions to try and help hone the phrasing for translation, but it ended up being asked roughly as "Which do you prefer: a healthy baby or a boy baby?" My Hindi is no where near fluent, but I understood when the women answered "Ohh! Larika, Larika! Beto!!" For those of you with less Hindi, that's "Boy! Boy! Sons!" This was coupled with some chuckling and emphatic gestures.
It's no secret to me that there is a generation of missing girls in India, where demographics are drastically skewed for male children. But, this is the first time that I have sat in a group of women with only women interviewing them that boys have been not only a clear preference, but a seemingly obvious one. Also, being a group interview, with two translators, there was no opportunity for follow up. So I just sat there, knowing that these women would not value having my family (2 daughters) or my host family (2 daughters) or many other families that I know.
So we talked more about village life (the water is polluted and salinated and they get diarrhea from drinking it but have no alternative), and then walked around for a bit. I made more lady friends aged roughly 8 - 12, and now avoiding the question of favorites (which girls don't have), I asked if my new friends went to school. Only one answered, and it was a No. When I asked why, she said, My parents don't send me. And why I asked "Why?" again, she wouldn't answer.
So then we played on the sand dunes, and then I left.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Bikaner
 |
| Lalgarh Palace |
 |
| My own personal Watch the Throne Tour |
 |
| The Door Lovers Club |
 |
| Watch the Throne Tour, Part 2 |
 |
| Windows Logo? |
Interesting to see, don't need to go back.
"Today - now - we are lady friends."
On Friday, my program set out from our program center in Jaipur to head west for our second excursion. We packed into another huge bus, as always with TOURIST written across the windshield, and left for Bikaner.
Before we got to Bikaner, we stopped for a meeting with a girls' school. It was an NGO-operated boarding school for girls from the local colleges to study for their 5th and 8th standards. As you might be able to guess, that means for the 5th and 8th grades in American terms.
We started our visit by being served dinner - a standardly delicious rice, roti, dal, and some veg combo. At the time, I thought students were serving us. We all used the opportunity to try out our newest Hindi lesson - polite commands. "Please don't give me more dal!" "Please don't give!"
We threw away our leaf-plates*, washed our right hands and suddenly were surrounded by a large group of young girls. We sat down throughout the crowd, and then introduced ourselves one by one, in stumbling Hindi. I will admit that I was the first to garner applause by my genius, and dare I say ice-breaking use of the Hindi word for 'lady friends'. Roughly my introduction was "My name is Olivia. Today - now - we are lady friends." Booyah.
After our introductions, we began asking questions to the students and staff. Some of the answers were eerily similar to what mine would be - when asked what they tell their parents about school, the girls said "I am learning lots, they feed me really well, and I have lots of time to play." I have passed similar reassurances back to my own parents, who by the way should know, that I am learning a lot, eating well, and playing more than ever. When asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, the girls stood up and shouted out different professions "Nurse!" "Engineer!" "Doctor!" "Teacher!" "Policewoman!"
Most of the answers were not like what mine would be. For example, when asked if they were married, some of them answered yes. Just to return back to an earlier point, these girls are in 5th and 8th grade. For those who are married, a ceremony had already taken place to match them to their husbands, and at the time when the reach puberty (or 18, according to different translators at different times) they will leave school and go to stay at their husband's family's home. When asked how they knew about the school, one girl answered that her sister had attended. Oh and what happened to her? She's married now, living in her husband's home and using the vocational training that the school also offers to make some extra money.
After our talking, we split into smaller groups to play games - Indian versions of Steal the Bacon, Simon Says, and another game about forming groups quickly of a certain number (I've played ones like this before in the US, but can't remember any names). While playing, the 4 boys (already excluded from my inspiring 'lady friends' friendship accord) were eliminated almost instantly. The students were fundamentally uncomfortable interacting with them in any way. I, on the other hand, was somewhat of a hit, and let my lady friends handle the numbers while I just got dragged from group to group.
Soon, my arms were by claimed by the ambitious Mumta, who began approximating a canvas before I had even realized that these girls were packing henna. While she worked on my arm, I tried to ask the girls questions to get the conversation flowing. What is your favorite animal? Mine is a goat (lies.) What is your favorite color? Who is in your family? What is your favorite book/subject? The girls were silent most of the time. Later I was informed that is unusual to ask girls about likes and dislikes in rural Rajasthan - good girls simply take the opinion of their husbands and make it their own.
The girls were welcoming, kind, and enthusiastic to have us there - pretty much lovely all around. Their enthusiasm was really refreshing. When so many standards and expectations are drastically different, its hard to know right from wrong, from different.
*I have used no paper plates since coming here, but instead have been served many time on a leaf plate. It seems to be a two-step process for the plate - pressing it into a normal plate shape (with elevated rims) and stitching the leaves together with some sort of raffia-like cord. They are not spill proof or whole proof, so we often use two or three at a time. They also come in bowls.
Before we got to Bikaner, we stopped for a meeting with a girls' school. It was an NGO-operated boarding school for girls from the local colleges to study for their 5th and 8th standards. As you might be able to guess, that means for the 5th and 8th grades in American terms.
We started our visit by being served dinner - a standardly delicious rice, roti, dal, and some veg combo. At the time, I thought students were serving us. We all used the opportunity to try out our newest Hindi lesson - polite commands. "Please don't give me more dal!" "Please don't give!"
We threw away our leaf-plates*, washed our right hands and suddenly were surrounded by a large group of young girls. We sat down throughout the crowd, and then introduced ourselves one by one, in stumbling Hindi. I will admit that I was the first to garner applause by my genius, and dare I say ice-breaking use of the Hindi word for 'lady friends'. Roughly my introduction was "My name is Olivia. Today - now - we are lady friends." Booyah.
After our introductions, we began asking questions to the students and staff. Some of the answers were eerily similar to what mine would be - when asked what they tell their parents about school, the girls said "I am learning lots, they feed me really well, and I have lots of time to play." I have passed similar reassurances back to my own parents, who by the way should know, that I am learning a lot, eating well, and playing more than ever. When asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, the girls stood up and shouted out different professions "Nurse!" "Engineer!" "Doctor!" "Teacher!" "Policewoman!"
Most of the answers were not like what mine would be. For example, when asked if they were married, some of them answered yes. Just to return back to an earlier point, these girls are in 5th and 8th grade. For those who are married, a ceremony had already taken place to match them to their husbands, and at the time when the reach puberty (or 18, according to different translators at different times) they will leave school and go to stay at their husband's family's home. When asked how they knew about the school, one girl answered that her sister had attended. Oh and what happened to her? She's married now, living in her husband's home and using the vocational training that the school also offers to make some extra money.
After our talking, we split into smaller groups to play games - Indian versions of Steal the Bacon, Simon Says, and another game about forming groups quickly of a certain number (I've played ones like this before in the US, but can't remember any names). While playing, the 4 boys (already excluded from my inspiring 'lady friends' friendship accord) were eliminated almost instantly. The students were fundamentally uncomfortable interacting with them in any way. I, on the other hand, was somewhat of a hit, and let my lady friends handle the numbers while I just got dragged from group to group.
Soon, my arms were by claimed by the ambitious Mumta, who began approximating a canvas before I had even realized that these girls were packing henna. While she worked on my arm, I tried to ask the girls questions to get the conversation flowing. What is your favorite animal? Mine is a goat (lies.) What is your favorite color? Who is in your family? What is your favorite book/subject? The girls were silent most of the time. Later I was informed that is unusual to ask girls about likes and dislikes in rural Rajasthan - good girls simply take the opinion of their husbands and make it their own.
 | |
| Mumta! Doing her thing. I gave the camera to the girls while they tsked at me for moving while my henna dried, so I have a lot of photos like this. |
*I have used no paper plates since coming here, but instead have been served many time on a leaf plate. It seems to be a two-step process for the plate - pressing it into a normal plate shape (with elevated rims) and stitching the leaves together with some sort of raffia-like cord. They are not spill proof or whole proof, so we often use two or three at a time. They also come in bowls.
Can you do that in India?
Back from the desert (for now)! Our lodgings were a little bit nicer this time around, and I was able to discover my love for Music India - an MTV of sorts. However, because all music videos are scenes from Bollywood films, it is really hard to tell when it is a commercial break and when it is actually programming.
Or at least, that is how it seems at first, but because fewer movies come out in India, the commercial breaks are the same set of 5-6 songs every time. This one is super catchy.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Oldies but Goodies
 |
| Subziwalla - aka the Vegetable Man |
Today was my Hindi midterm, and afterwards I ended up going shopping back in Bapu Bazaar with a lot of my classmates. The end of the week shopping trip was eerily similar to an earlier trip to Bapu that I took in one of our first weeks here - and the difference in my competence as a Hindi speaker, as a bargainer, and Indian resident made me feel like even though time is flying, I am adjusting better than I may realize. Even talking with mumma once I got home about where I had bought things, it was nice to be able to give more specifics (near the Hawa Mahal, No, not near that tree) that are meaningful now that three weeks ago would have seemed completely random.
Around here, I'm starting to feel like a local. As such, the photo taking has slowed but I have quite a back supply to keep posting here. In the spirit of feeling local, here's some shots of life around Jaipur.
 |
| Nonsensically-named shop in Bapu Bazaar |
 |
| Jaipur as far as the eye can see! |
 |
| All right, not very local of me - from inside the City Palace |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)