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Adventures in Hindustan

a travel blog by Drie


I'm studying abroad in INDIA! This is to keep you all updated (and hopefully entertained) about my adventures in this awesome country. I hope to read your responses and comments.
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ah the famous people

Jaipur, India


Today was a rather surreal and incredible day. I feel guilty because it was all very upper class and westernized but I suppose that one cannot say it is not the real India, but just one India –on very fascinating India—as Rima said.
We had hindi in the morning as usual. We began to cover tenses and thus, for me, it was a rather dreadful time. And it also began that horrible habit of people starting talk to me in phrases of hindi. I don’t know if I simply freak out or don’t have knowledge capacity, but I generally stare numbly back at them and make an all around ass of myself.
But for the rest of day we went back to the literature fair and had a marvelous time. First we saw Fatima Bhutto speaking with Dalrymple. Basically she told the story of her life, and what a interesting and tragic life it is—not to mention historically informing. She must have seen every disaster personal and world-notable (from the death of Benizar to 9/11) possible. Very well spoken but I didn’t find her brilliant.
Afterwards, Emma, Emily, Teresa and I hung out for a while around the place and then walked to the old city. Here was wandered through crowded sales street after sales street taking it in. Ultimately, we homed in on a store that had the cotton pashmina-like shawls. Emma and I after a bit of haggling which I thought was going well but made 2 errors, 1) didn’t stick to my price that I had set to pay rp. 200 and 2) didn’t walk out of the store to get to that price. We ended up paying 230 each. Whatever. I very much like my new shawl though I fear to wear it because I have already managed one pull in the fabric.
When we came back we got lots of free food and lots of their amazing spiced tea. The whole thing reminded me strongly of events in DC with important people and free food in gorgeous places, feeling out of place but caring the ‘student card’ as I now like to think of it.
We then took big tourist buses to a mall theater where we saw Atonement—a uniquely filmed, wonderfully sound-orchestrated, and tragic movie. Then we got to hear from the author of the book Ian McEwen and the screenwriter of the movie! Nothing too fascinating was said, but it was amazing all the same.
To top it all off, it was warm today!


permalink written by  Drie on January 24, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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republic day

Jaipur, India


Our first weekend on the program and also Republic Day. Cheers to a Democratic India! Well, yesterday began alright, it was our first ‘class excursion’ meaning we took a truck around Jaipur to see city palace and went up for a short period to Amber Fort (the old fortified city in the hills just outside Jaipur). I bought batteries for my camera and like a nervous fool agreed to Rp. 150 (to my credit down from 300 and less than another kid, Zander, who paid 200) even though I KNEW 6 batteries were worth only 120. Grr. I need to work on having the nerve to bargain fully. I got left behind by the group buying the batteries (they went on from the sun dial area to the palace) and nearly gave Mitji (one of our directors) a heart attack in the process. I also almost got fined Rp. 500 for stupidly taking a picture in the city palace armory. Fortunately, they let me just delete the picture and wallow in disgust at stupid rules.
Well, Amber palace was fun if only because Aarthi, Meghan, and I ‘got lost’ through the upper and maze-like back stories of the palace. The view of the hills was just spectacular. We decided we definitely have to play sardines or capture the flag when we come back again on Sunday.
Unfortunately, the day went downhill from there. I got extremely frustrated with Sunita by the end of it (tho hopefully this didn’t show) starting with her telling me I can’t work at the computer desk and ending with us leaving an interesting –but unintelligible—theater performance about the unifranchised people of India at the JKK (a sort of performing and studio art center)
The frustration began with our decision to stop at the two internet cafes on the way home. Both were absolutely horrible. I spent 10 minutes waiting for the thing to try and attach a word document…and waited..and waited. It never worked and put my frustration level through the roof. Fortunately, that story has a happy ending because today we went toward raja park and found another place quite close to the school with a fast connection, clean computers, skype connection, and a guy who could make change! Its gonna be our internet place from now on.
We went om 2 more productive errands: picked up snack food to horde from Reliance Fresh and bought for myself a complete salwar camise for 540 (for those of you who don’t know, this is a traditional women’s daily wear—its like loose pants and a top that looks like a knee length dress with side slits-- mine is blue with glass bits and a gold leaf design and edging), specified tailoring and all. It was a no-bargain store, but the owner was a sikh and I think the stuff is high quality, so I’m hoping I wasn’t ripped off in that whole affair. Now we are simply waiting and pining (or maybe that’s just me) for seeing Aamir Khan.



permalink written by  Drie on January 26, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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Sidewalks arent for walking

Jaipur, India


The most homesick I’ve been I think. Its hard to say why really. A tiring day, maybe, or my headache, dealing with a few of the more annoying of my groupmates, or perhaps its just about that time. I feel a bit disillusioned somehow. In some sense it’s the feeling that I’m not ‘seeing the real India’ but talking to my group and walking from one tourist site to another. But its not just that. I mean, I am living with a ‘real’ Indian lady, walking the same bazaars Indians shop at, and dealing with the same poverty.
But in coming here for such an extended period of time, I somehow felt I could fit-in more. I’m not exactly what I was looking for—maybe a sense of true understanding of what its like to live here or be Indian or simply walk down the street and understand and be at ease with all that’s going on. But the longer I stay, I instead feel more and more my connection to my own home. When you first travel, you tend to miss the creature comforts and the straight familiarity and ease of home. The hot showers, your own bed, your own car, your own streets. And I do miss those, believe me (esp. when I step out of my bucket shower into the 50 degree room without heating!)
But what has depressed me is the realization that I’m dealing fine with the lack of creature comforts. It’s the growing certainty that perhaps I can never care about this place or these people as much those of the Western land, even if I were to stay here for years. Its too foreign. Maybe this is just the language barrier speaking. If I really believed I could somehow accomplish conversational Hindi I might feel more at home.

On to more exciting things. Today we again went up to the Amber Fort. My 3rd time up which I justified by the elephant ride, but by the time we got up and got the cars and saw the elephants loading up, I decided to cut my losses and spend as little money as possible. Some of us just walked alongside the giant painted beasts rather than ride them. I pet one’s nose as well. Otherwise, little was new aside from wandering a bit more extensively around Jaguar Fort and marveling at its view.
After we returned, I picked my salwar from the sikh shop. Unfortunately while the design is just as I wanted, I think the tailored waist is a little off and lays funny. Which I will have to through the painful process of going back to him and asking him to fix it. Sigh. I also had the most embarrassing experience. When I went to try it on in the shop on top of my shirt it was rather snug (naturally, its tailored to fit not over another shirt). But as I went to pull it off, both shirts came up past my bra! Oh dear. The man was gentlemanly as simply assisted me in helping to take it off, but the embarrassment pains.
We are actually invited officially to a wedding of one of the other girl’s families. Apparently it’s a love match between two castes—highly scandalous—so less people are coming than standard and we are all invited. We get to eat at everything. The ceremony is to take place at 7:00. Naturally, we are advised not to arrive at 8:30 if we want to be sure not miss anything.

Snapshot: Sidewalks aren’t for Walking
They are for many things, certainly. They are put to full use for the efficient placement of fruit stands, for trash dumpsters, for small temples, for dog-naps, for urinating, for sweeping off, or for general loitering. What they are not for is the pathway of the pedestrian. In a country where there are far less vehicles to a person as in the US, sidewalks simply aren’t designed for walking. Instead, the walkers of world make their way on the edge of the street, a designated lane of traffic as much as the rest.
I’ve been told that in wealthy Indian society, walking is simply not done. Those who can afford it will never choose to walk if they can get a ride in some fashion. In fact, choosing to ‘go for a walk’ is likely to cause confusion from your acquaintances and multiple rickshawvalas who are entirely unconvinced that you, as a rich angrezi, should prefer to walk if an amicable price can offered. This is likely the explanation for this bizarre design habit. As with most public amenities (all things, who are we kidding) if its isn’t a priority for the wealthy it probably isn’t gonna happen, even if many millions of Indians must walk the dangerous streets every day to get where they need to go. As a side note, it’s a good thing that there’s cricket, futbol, classical dance, and yoga because no one (middle class) takes their 14,000 steps a day around here for exercise.


permalink written by  Drie on January 27, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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To Gandhiji

Jaipur, India


To Gandhiji.
It’s the anniversary of Gandhi’s death, and the event is observed by 2 minutes of silence at 11. AM. It’s a nice gesture but as we stood in silence I heard the honks and street noises and thus was not under the illusion that the whole country stops in place to observe the moment.
I am in fact sick. Its ironic really, not a single stomach problem since I’ve been here, but 2 colds under my belt already. Cross you fingers that it doesn’t get worse.
Today was a bit warmer, so we are holding out that the weather is at last thawing and will remain a pleasant temperature for some time. We had our second development class, and we have started to go over the history and theories of international development. An interesting subject taught by an elderly lady professor who manages to be both adorable and stately at the same time.
Emma and I had our own way of celebrating the non-violence Guru: preparing a non-indian meal. We decided to cook spaghetti (we’re both Itallian) for Sunita-ji to show what the West has to offer. Pasta or noodles of any sort is invariably served with a dollup of ketchup in this country-a horrible adaption of the marinera sauce (though, I think Sunita is quite familiar with spaghetti already, having visiting the US and Australia on numerous occasions). We were successful able to buy all the necessary ingredients except for basil and Oregano. Basil we were able to luckily substitute a but the oregano was nowhere to be found. For all its spices, Indian is completely missing out on one of my top five. Hopefully, the sauce will service anyway. Should we make garlic butter roti as well?

1/31/08

Today was relatively unique. First of all because my cold has reached the disgusting I-have-phlem-up-the-gazoo stage. Second, because I had American pasta, American coffee, and sat in a starbucks like coffeeshop. Third, because we went to Renuji’s (Sunita’s niece-in-law) English class.
Renuji, who we have met several times when she comes to visit Auntiji, speaks the proper lyrical English of the highly educated Indian and is an absolute sweetheart. She had previously invited us to come to one of her classes and speak to the students in English, and today we went. The whole experience was overwhelming. Emma was placed in one room and I another, each filled with maybe 20 university and graduate students. Some spoke fluently, others very hesitantly, and all of them were staring at me and asking questions from all quarters. Simple questions like “do you like Titanic?” and impossible ones like “what are the differences between India and the US.”
One elder lady student even invited us to her house afterwards. The wife of a Jaipur minister, their home was right across from the grand ministerial building. We drank tea and ate sweets and laughed through halting conversation as the three grandchildren alternately stared and laughed at us on the other side of the room. It was nice to see two more Indian homes, one moderate, and Renuji’s absolutely grand.
After a quick dinner of pasta with Sunita (which I think at least amused if not impressed her) we went out to a totally Americanized coffeeshop with Auntiji, Renuji and her husband. For all the chai I am having these days, having my classic earl grey, black, was such a treat I couldn’t stop smiling.
Tomorrow we prepare for our first weekend excursion: Bundi, a much smaller town off the tourist-beaten track about 5 hours away by train. Lets hope for the best on the journey and for the love of peat hope my cold is better.


permalink written by  Drie on January 30, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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Bundi Advenures

Jaipur, India


Bundi Adventures
2/1/08
Snapshot: Sleeping with mice for a Starbucks chai

We are now in Bundi! This is a much smaller town (around pop.100,000) several hours south of Jaipur. Getting there was a grand time. We had bought train tickets earlier in the week (rp340) and arrived at the train station in a tiny rickshaw (tiny b/c we took the small guy’s offer of 35 after much barter). This meant 4 of us and weekend bags were crammed into the little vehicle with a tiny muslim man and his dignified white beard. The driver was so excited that his rickshaw was able to pull us all the way to the station he let a whoohoo which we repeated in cacophony.
Getting on the train turned out to be less enjoyable. We knew we were on a sleeper car, a type of car that usually has the names of the passengers posted outside by the door. But our tickets said we were in SE2…well there were many S#’s but no SE’s. It wasn’t S2 so we resorted to walking u and down the platform asking everyone imaginable by pointing at our ticket and looking thoroughly confused (which we were). In response we got about 10 conflicting pointed directions. After walking back and forth several times and dwindling our extra time down 10 minutes before departure, we spotted our names on one of the only cars we had not already checked. Oh well. Off to Kota. The ride took about 5 hours.
We arrived around 9 at night and walked from the station into the street to find a reasonably priced rickshaw (rp. 30) to the bus station. This turned out to be a deserted alley with old buses in it but we were quickly ushered onto the bus Bundi Bundi! A man on the bus befriended us when we got confused about ticket prices (rp. 20) and thought he would be a friend for the rest of the ride. He even got us a reasonably priced rickshaw to our Haveli (old house converted to hotel) and wanted to meet up the next day. Polite no thanks.
The RN Haveli which we had picked out of our guidebook turned out to be a delightful 20 year old home with painted walls and the typical Indian layout of two floors and a central courtyard. The place is lauded (among tourists at least) for being an entirely female run business, notably by ‘Mama’ a proud old fat lady who introduces us to her ‘daughter-in-law’ and son who turn out to be an older British couple staying for a couple days. We sooned joined by some affectionate puppies off the street who play with our backpacks while mama ineffectually attempts to chalo them out.
We have two small doubles. The beds—and rooms—look a bit suspect in cleanliness, the bathroom is a tiny combined western/squaty potty that flushes only intermittently and we can hear the mice squeaking to keep the floor company in the dark. But Mama gives delicious ginger chai and an extra blanket for the cold night the place has character. This for the equivalent of what I would pay for a cup of chai in the US (150 rupees or $3 per night!).


permalink written by  Drie on February 2, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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Haveli Holidays

Jaipur, India


/08
Haveli Holidays
So our weekend excursion to Bundi is over Overall, a beautiful success. On our day in the town we got up and waited leisurely in the sun for mama to get in the kitchen and make chai and then—individual—incredibly good masala dosai (look it up if you don’t know) for the four of us and our fellow travelers: the british couple, their german lady friend, a younger Itallian couple, and later an Australian gal. They are on extended travels and have been to Indian at least once before.
Next we headed up to this towns version of maharaja’s palace and fort. We skipped past the part that cost money (as recommended by the brits) and headed up the cobbled hill the ladies section of the palace. Here was a brilliant garden perched above the lilac-blue buildings of Bundi and a palace filled with grand paintings of kings, Krishna and courtship. A friendly little Indian shows us the highlights of the place and hands us a stick to fend off the monkeys as we head further up to the fort itself. We have the entire upper complex to ourselves, which was rather surreal.
Afterwards, we went to a restaurant on the edge of the old washing tank/lake, which was garbage-filled but an interesting view all the same. We had ‘rajastani pizza’ which means the bread was covered with a large mix of vegetables and fruits including pineapple, nuts, grapes, and apparently live fruit weavels. Greeeat. Although this ruined the pizza for me, it made me gratefully once more for my companions who took the whole thing in stride unlike many Americans who would throw a fit. We shrugged it off and went on a walk of the town.
Wandering the busy, but lower key, streets of Bundi we spot a tourish bureau sign on a fence. Curious we open the gate and step into another century. Suddenly isolated from the street, we have walked into the Queen’s stepwell. This is a giant deep well led down by carved stone steps. The place has its own mysterious aura, no doubt helped by the echoes of the cooing pigeons off the old walls.
We returned to sit on the RN Haveli’s roof and listen to an Scottish dude with dreds practice on his didgery doo. The sunset and we waited for an amazing dinner chatting with our fellow travelers about do’s and don’ts in India. I even got to have hot bucket shower before retreating to bed. The next days return journey had its own set of perks from incredibly cheap, deep-friend and delicious train station food and discovered a new favorite snack: parley-g’s a super cheap cookie pack recommended among the do’s.
Less fortunate was a highly unpleasant bus ride in which a creepy guy sat next to me on the bus and whether for perverted reasons or exhaustion reasons kept leaning into me, putting his arm over my seat and otherwise making body contact even after I repeatedly pushed him over. Yeck! On the bright side, my anger helped us procure a particularly good ‘shaw fare back to the train station.



permalink written by  Drie on February 3, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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From cows to camels

Bikaneri, India


2/11/08
There is probably far too much for me to possibly cover since my last entry. On Wednesday we left on a class trip to Shekawati, a slightly more rural and desert area north of Jaipur. This area has several independent and largely similarly sized villages—an unusual design in an area of feudal societies usually dominated by a single large urban center with fort and palace etc, surrounded by rural land.
The area has very cool terrain as you get nearer the Thar Desert. Odd trees on which the local people depend are in great numbers stripped of their leaves and are left to dot the barren hilly landscape knobbly and apparently out of a Dr. Seuss novel. More entertaining still though was that we stayed in a 5-star resort for the occasion. Guess how many times I’ve done that in my travels up to this point?
Yeah, well, it was rather incredible taking a hot shower rather than the bucket bathes that have become the common fare. It was a good thing too, because on Friday Betsey, Sarah, Teresa and I took off for Bikaner, a town even further in the desert expanses soon to take a camel safari.
The whole safari is possibly too lengthy to explain in detail. But there are several main points I’d like to get across for reference in case any of you every embark upon a similar campaign. First, camels are spectacular creatures, which after seeing one’s tongue I am absolutely convinced originally came from an alien planet before landing here and imitating the llama. They walk with elegant pride, head and neck raised high in the air. They make the strangest noises, including my favorite, a form of greeting offered to other camles that involves bellowing and gathering spit while sticking a bulb-shaped purple tongue out the side of their mouthes. They are also possibly the most unaccommodating and lackadaisical domestic creature I’ve ever encountered. They are led from a hole in their nose attached to a rope. If the rope was released they would simply stop, whether away from their camel buddies or not. And for all my horse-riding expertise I doubt I could have made the thing move an inch from astride it. Nonetheless, all our camels were anointed with names for our memory and gave a marvelous ride. So thank you Earla, Patrick (AKA Rackshad by night), Bo Jangles (named for the bells hanging from neck, nose and bony ankles), and most of all Bacchus largest and most ornery of all.
It was fascinating to see the rural side of India in which 80% of the population lives. We walked past tiny villages with only walking (or camlel) roads in or out and grass-made huts ensconced in walls of cow dung. I don’t think I’ve ever really witnessed that kind of ruralism before.
Another tip: if you go on a camel safari get guides like ours. We had four men, one who spoke English and taught us card tricks, and all of whom Indian and waiting on four gals head in foot including cooking spectacular alu gobi. He knew European slang and called Teresa Mother. Remind me to teach you my new favorite card game pairs.
Lastly, what they say about the Thar is true. It seems quite possible to get heat stroke by day and frostbite by night. We were crammed in a tiny tent together with large (camel-smelling) blankets, sleeping bags, and wearing everything we owned. I think my water was on the verge of freezing. Ah, but the stars are certainly not over exaggerated!
The ride home involved another train adventure. Sarah got into conversation with several Indian men with a tad of English who asked questions about what we thought of the nuclear deal between the US and India and told us that in fact all Muslim countries are terrorists. I made the blunder of admitted I did at times drink a little with my family. They told me we could be family and poured out of Aquafina bottles what turned out to be an especially appalling mix of vodka and water. If you thought refusing alcohol at college parties was hard trying refusing it to three staring Indian men on the train next to you. We arrived late, tired and freezing but I had a treat in store. Crazy host mom auntieji is gone for the next couple days, so party at our house! Just kidding…sort of.
Somewhere in the crazy weekend between camel farts, vodka, and arriving at 1:30 in the morning, I had to write a book report, translate hindi sentences, and read for History. Has anyone ever told you that study abroad involves doing, like, homework?



permalink written by  Drie on February 13, 2008 from Bikaneri, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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Trains ar the Ticket

Udaipur, India


2/19/08

Back to the grind from another weekend adventure.

Snapshot: Trains are the Ticket
People tell you that if you come to India you have to take the trains. That’s totally true from an interest, economic, and in my case, obsession standpoint. The trains are awesome. I admit to always having enjoyed cross-country travel, though usually in the back seat of a family van. And every train I have taken in this country—I think its five now—has been an enjoyable and generally fascinating experience.
Of course, in telling you I have enjoyed the trains here, I have to specify class, because here there are no less than six distinctions of class and probably many more. There’s first class, second class sleeper A/C, second class sleeper non-A/C, second class, general class reserve, and general class. This runs the gamut of having your own pimped out private compartment to making a rush for your space on the wooden benches. For me, this choice has dwindled to various separations of second class on superfast, express, or non-express trains. Most of my journeys have been on second class non-A/C which essentially mean I ride in a car with about 6-10 compartments of 8 assigned seats.
Six seats are on one side, and 2 on the other. In an ingenious scheme, three people can face each other on each side with a fixed bunk above them, while the back-cushion of the bottom seat flips up so that each of the three people on each side can sleep (on the left) while a similar midsection slides down to make a bottom bunk( on the right). Especially if I’m on the top bunk, I feel like I’m in my own little fort, in the form of those I created in childhood. While the non-A/C class offers no bedding, virtually everything else you could possibly need is to be found on the train including but not all inclusive, fans (that double function for me as shoe-holders), water bottle holders on each level, a set of hooks, a wall-pocket, a mini-table, music in the form the pro-longed whistle of the train and the combined snoring of a multitude of sleeping men. Each car has a Western Style bathroom in addition to the Indian one. The former does not provide toilet but this is probably a good thing as I am relatively sure that what waste is dumped down goes nowhere but onto the tracks.
If the train doesn’t have it, the train station will. There are specially waiting rooms and even a budge-in-line right for women. There is scrumptions fried food offered never above 15 rp not to mention steaming cups of chai for the go and little packets of crackers (or should I say glucose cookies) called Parli-G’s if fat-induced heart problems are not in your future.

I actually had two such spectacular 12 hour overnight train rides this weekend, going to and from Udaipur. The 6 of us took the whole compartment and it was a spectacular time. The rest of the weekend doesn’t get quite as good reviews. Udaipur is nice, if tourist-filled city, with a beautiful lake and fantastic shopping. But while it seems to contain all the bits of ‘classic’ India (a fort, a temple, a city palace, old havelis, etc.) smashed into a small area, none of these sites made it to top of favorites in their category.
My slight displeasure was compounded by spending too much money including a ring and a miniature painting as well as other items which will remain unnamed as they are gifts for some of you fine folks. This as well as the fact that as nearly the whole class came and frictions grew between my ‘core-four’ as well as the rest of the group in the planning and execution of activities. This culminated in our attempt at ‘going out’ at night looking for a bar or club. The place we had in mind turned out to cost in excess of 330 rp a drink. And the men we asked wanted to take us to a disco-club in their car halfway across the city. What did we do? We sat around in the street in the dark discussing and disagreeing and keeping on of our number ( already a little drunk) from getting the car with our new friends… hmmm. Instead my group just went back to the hotel and watched Octopussy on the roof. This most horrible of Bond films was filmed right there in the city and included such sites as we went to see including the city palace on the lake shore, the city palace hotel in the Pichola Lake (and $500 per night), Monsoon fort perched a top a distant hill, and the palace on Jagmandir Island (known for having inspired Shah Jihan’s Taj and sheltering British women and children during the 1857 Sepoy rebellion/1st war of independence).
Also notable from our weekend of excess, we rented bikes for the day and rode out searching for the other 2 lakes of the city but finding only one. Exhaustion came on as people repeatedly gave conflicting advice that sent up dirt hills, down windy roads, and urban development. This particular adventure was a lot of fun.
The weekend can’t have been too much of flop with lots of good restaurant and street food (including chitorri, samosa, and breaded stuffed hot peppers), bikes with gears, and warmer weather.



permalink written by  Drie on February 20, 2008 from Udaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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oh MAXSA

Jaipur, India


2/25/08

The following is a copy of a assignment I have submitted for MAXSA class (aka Maximizing Study Abroad), a course in which we reflect and share our interactions with our host culture and which I take very seriously:

Dear Tara,

A triumph in the process of Coping with my host Culture. You see I have for some time felt I like I am not getting enough exercise or able to physically express myself in a comfortable and acceptable manner. In India it is not acceptable for women to wear workout garb common to the US eg shorts and tank top. Additionally, taking a walk is not generally understood and it is highly unusual for a woman to jog. All these taboos have made it extremely difficult for me to integrate my usual physical routines into the cultural context.
Initially I became highly frustrated with Indian culture and values. I said “so sexist, that women can’t even jog!(evaluative inference type)” and “this is why they are all fat isn’t? (interpretive inference type).” But these inferences did nothing for preventing belly fat from encroaching. We used to D-I-E model of inference making to find a productive solution.
I am thrilled to report that my roommate and I, with the help of the model, have come up with an effective coping technique that allows my physical expression and increases my cultural integration. This technique is Dance Workout Bollywood! We get into our ‘inappropriate’ workout outfits in our room. Then we turn on a video of a hopping music number of our favorite new Bollywood film (from rental walla) and do the dance of Sharuk Khan, Aamir Khan and Aishwary Rai. Now we are engaging in daily exercise and engaging in the local cultural expression all at once. The D-I-E model of inference has helped me so much. Thank you MAXSA!


permalink written by  Drie on February 25, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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Packing it away

Jaipur, India


2/28/08

I went jogging this morning(that means I got up at 7:15!) and of course proceeded to buy a samosa on the way back...but that’s beside the point. Along the way I saw Indian woman jogger for the first time! It was so gratifying; we made eye contact, she smiled and gave a brief thumbs up and though the exchange was less than a second the moment of complete understanding across cultures as two women will remain in my memory for a long time. Its women like this that are going to have the strength to change India.
I know I have been writing less and less and that’s generally because there is less that is interesting to talk about. So much so, and school being as basic and uninspiring as it is, has become a major frustration. Except for hindi where I am making progress though with painful results when attempting to speak, its very difficult to sit through class. But that is all nearly over now. I will be leaving to start my internship in Jodhpur with GRAVIS on Wednesday. This will mean six weeks of a whole new set of experiences! There are four other people from the program working with this NGO though on different projects, so I won’t be alone. i hopefully will be working with their water sustainability practices program out in teh villages. Until then, we are finishing up, writing papers, taking tests, and otherwise wrapping what we haven’t really learned anyway.
I started packing and am all set to go to rural living 101. Unfortunately, I may not have internet access much of the time, so you al you Best Beloved may not get so many blogs from me. I'm sure you will endure tolerably enough.


permalink written by  Drie on February 28, 2008 from Jaipur, India
from the travel blog: Adventures in Hindustan
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