OK, so if this blog were my job I would be SO fired. Thanks for sticking with me! :)
I think at the last post I was about to leave for my trip to Delhi and Agra. I'm telling you, things on this trip keep getting cooler and cooler. That particular excursion was perhaps one of the most beauty-packed and experience-rich 4 days of my life!
We started at 5 am on a Friday, leaving for the Kolkata airport. As soon as we got there we learned our flight had been canceled for "operational reasons" (likely there were not enough people on the early flight, ugh). So we camped out in the airport until the 11 am flight. After a very turbulent flight - once again, Indian airlines are out to get me - we landed in Delhi and I was ready to kiss the ground.
Delhi seems to be a different world from Kolkata, a testament to the importance of urban planning and sanitation. The boulevards are wide, the buildings are gorgeous and the restaurants and bars oh-so-cosmopolitan. Some drivers respect lanes and pedestrians. The sidewalks can actually be walked on (a sidenote example: today Maggie and I walked in our upper-class Kolkata neighborhood and were unable to walk on the sidewalk due to a giant pile of sand, and later a giant pile of gravel. We also passed over a gutter filled with hair - an entrepreneurial barber must have temporarily abandoned his operation! Inexplicably, much of the bricks and stones of the sidewalks have been looted.) It's a pity that most people only experience the tourist-friendly places of India and think "this is great!" because Delhi is developed in a way that most of the country is not. It was also filled to the brim with mzungus - a word commonly used in Africa for "white people" but very appropriate for India on the occasion that our group spots a fellow tourist! Example: "The Taj Mahal is a magnet for mzungus." There's such a fraternity of white people traveling abroad in India - it's quite funny how we automatically relate, nod our heads or smile knowingly across a crowd as we are hassled endlessly by omnipresent hawkers. People remain fascinated by our decidely multiracial group, particularly the very blond Chris and Julia. I have yet to figure out why people want to take pictures with me to put in their vacation albums, but it's such a funny phenomenon that I never turn the request down!
Upon our arrival in Delhi we met with our driver - a surly fellow that only became more so as the day continued. Anjali's uncle is a Delhi Chief of Police who arranged all of our lodging and travel for the weekend - sweet! We were all famished and dropped into the United Coffee House, where I was delighted to find a HAM AND CHEESE SANDWICH!!! Oh my gosh, little things really get you excited around here. We continued on to the India Gate, a World War I memorial modeled after the Arc de Triomphe. Quite a nifty place, although I was once again the target of many a young man's cell phone camera, argh! We saw the government building district, all very pretty and gorgeously landscaped. Then we stopped by Humayan's Tomb, a Mughal prince's resting place. We passed through the gates and into a courtyard area. Off to the right was a serene tomb, beautiful and ancient. One cool thing about India is that there is not nearly the same level of security or preservation as there would be for most other historical sites. So there's not really the same sense of boundary - wobbly staircases, crumbling columns, no railings. You're quite free to go anywhere you please within the confines of the historical sites. So you can get really close to things, touch, linger. We did just that at Humayan's tomb, taking plenty of time in the green oasis (there's not much green space in a country of a billion people) and enjoying each architectural detail. Mughal architecture is unspeakably beautiful, usually composed of either white marble or red sandstone and generally soaring and curving in the most foreign and lovely patterns. When we returned to the courtyard area, thrilled with the tomb we had seen, we realized that we had entirely missed the main attraction - an enormous red sandstone creation that seemed to have risen out of a duststorm, a Mughal masterpiece that was clearly a predecessor and inspiration for the Taj Mahal. Amazing.
After leaving Humayan's tomb we met up with some friends who go to Duke and UNC who are in Delhi for the summer. We had a great time laughing and sharing our only-in-India stories at the restaurant Not Just Parathas, where I had a delicious lamb dahl. Most of the Duke students were working with DukeEngage, a huge summer service initiative that offers funding to undergraduate students for Robertson-esque summers, on a rehabilitation program that gets intravenous drug users back on their feet. They begged us to join them for what they called a "coffee house" not far from the restaurant, where the folks they work with have a party every 2 weeks. So at about 9:30 pm I found myself dancing with junkies on a rooftop in Delhi. And not just any dancing - a frenetic, jumpy, crazy dancing to the Rolling Stones and Elvis! It was SO much fun, so unique and memorable. I also got to meet some more really cool Duke students, including one girl that I met just once during the year (we watched the Oscars together, long story) and ran into in DELHI! What a small world.
The story of this trip is just too long for one post! To be continued, soon I promise.... And love to you all...Daron
Monday, July 7, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
IndiGo
The title of this post is also the name of the Indian airline I'll be flying tomorrow! The group is headed to Delhi and Agra (the site of the Taj Mahal) for a five-day jaunt, so check back then for a sweet update and maybe even some pictures :)
IndiGo might also accurately reflect the national mood of India, which is jarringly nationalistic and quite determined to seize superpower status as soon as humanly possible. It is exceedingly common, in bookstores and street conversations, to read or hear how unstoppable India is, a new superpower for a new century. Though I have my doubts about how soon it may happen, I have no doubt that India will grow to a prominent position on the world stage. What may limit the timeline of this already-assumed-in-the-minds-of-all-Indians takeover is the oceanic gap between the rich and poor and the infrastructural and livelihood problems everywhere. Even in my upper-class neighborhood, there are daily power and water outages. More than once I have been covered in soap when the water goes out while I take a shower, making me a not-too-happy camper! And yet a great strength of India, a thing that I really admire and wish for America too, if only for America to remain competitive in the globally competitive sense, is the singular, almost extreme focus on education. Young people here face enormous educational pressure (umm, hello IB!) that translates into high-performing tech and engineering jobs for the hardworking. Yet very high-stakes testing leads to numerous suicides in exam season, and the results of those tests really do determine futures - biomedical engineering is the most presitigious occupation, because only the top 10% of any graduating class may enter it. I have often thought to myself that I'd give anything to revisit these places in 10 years just to see how they have changed... the pace of development is absolutely breakneck. And the immersive education I'm getting in these two months will surely come in handy in the future - the world is indeed flat.
There is so much to write about in these posts that my mind simply goes blank trying to come up with a topic, so instead I'll go with a series of lists for today...
Things That Drive Me Nuts: taxi drivers (they will be getting an entire post sometime later), the inability to walk on any sidewalk, humidity, power outages, the apparent ineptitude of the postal service (Mom sent me a package that I have yet to receive :( ), the uncertainty of how to behave in temples of different religions
Things I Should Have Brought More Of: antibacterial wipes, protein bars, clothes, Febreeze, books, Pepto Bismol, toilet paper (no toilet paper in any restroom in the whole dang country, you have to bring your own or improvise)
Things That I'm Really Grateful For: antibacterial wipes, Op and Saraj (my amazing house parents), international cell phones, the fun of haggling, the opportunity to be here and experience something so wild, foreign and CRAZY, how safe I feel in this country (violent crime is very rare), the amazing hospitality and helpfulness of nearly everyone I've encountered, an Italian restaurant (I can't tell you how much I appreciate a little bland food every now and then)
Love to you all...Daron
IndiGo might also accurately reflect the national mood of India, which is jarringly nationalistic and quite determined to seize superpower status as soon as humanly possible. It is exceedingly common, in bookstores and street conversations, to read or hear how unstoppable India is, a new superpower for a new century. Though I have my doubts about how soon it may happen, I have no doubt that India will grow to a prominent position on the world stage. What may limit the timeline of this already-assumed-in-the-minds-of-all-Indians takeover is the oceanic gap between the rich and poor and the infrastructural and livelihood problems everywhere. Even in my upper-class neighborhood, there are daily power and water outages. More than once I have been covered in soap when the water goes out while I take a shower, making me a not-too-happy camper! And yet a great strength of India, a thing that I really admire and wish for America too, if only for America to remain competitive in the globally competitive sense, is the singular, almost extreme focus on education. Young people here face enormous educational pressure (umm, hello IB!) that translates into high-performing tech and engineering jobs for the hardworking. Yet very high-stakes testing leads to numerous suicides in exam season, and the results of those tests really do determine futures - biomedical engineering is the most presitigious occupation, because only the top 10% of any graduating class may enter it. I have often thought to myself that I'd give anything to revisit these places in 10 years just to see how they have changed... the pace of development is absolutely breakneck. And the immersive education I'm getting in these two months will surely come in handy in the future - the world is indeed flat.
There is so much to write about in these posts that my mind simply goes blank trying to come up with a topic, so instead I'll go with a series of lists for today...
Things That Drive Me Nuts: taxi drivers (they will be getting an entire post sometime later), the inability to walk on any sidewalk, humidity, power outages, the apparent ineptitude of the postal service (Mom sent me a package that I have yet to receive :( ), the uncertainty of how to behave in temples of different religions
Things I Should Have Brought More Of: antibacterial wipes, protein bars, clothes, Febreeze, books, Pepto Bismol, toilet paper (no toilet paper in any restroom in the whole dang country, you have to bring your own or improvise)
Things That I'm Really Grateful For: antibacterial wipes, Op and Saraj (my amazing house parents), international cell phones, the fun of haggling, the opportunity to be here and experience something so wild, foreign and CRAZY, how safe I feel in this country (violent crime is very rare), the amazing hospitality and helpfulness of nearly everyone I've encountered, an Italian restaurant (I can't tell you how much I appreciate a little bland food every now and then)
Love to you all...Daron
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Sittin', Waitin', Wishin'
I don't have any exciting travel updates to share today, as the gang decided to stay in Kolkata this weekend. Today Anjali and I went to a nearby spa for super-cheap facials (my skin feels amazing!) and we're going to dinner at a Mexican restaurant later. Indian interpretations of Western dishes never fail to surprise :)
I've had ample time to think and read and pray here in India. It's been a really, really good trip for the soul. I feel awakened to some universal truths that are hard to realize when your nose is to the grindstone and you're only anticipating the next deadline... I've had a lot of time to consider what it means to be a stranger in a strange land, as every time I step outside the door I am reminded how far I am from home and every time I speak others struggle to understand. I just finished reading Interpreter of Maladies, which is a book about Indian-Americans by Jhumpa Lahiri. A-m-a-z-i-n-g book, it's so hard to believe that it was her first novel! The collection of short stories are all about bridging the isolation between people and generations and nations...how sometimes it is impossible, and how sometimes it's the only thing that saves us. Language is a huge barrier, and even though many people speak English my American accent might as well be gibberish. I tend to try to overcome the isolation with a smile, wild hand gestures, a few broken Bengali phrases; yet I struggle to find culturally appropriate responses to social situations (I always seem to fail). I have been thrilled with the responses of my tiny efforts to bridge this cultural and relational divide with Bengali women...they are so beautiful and modest in their saris, and many rarely leave home. I must be like a flamingo walking down the street to them, with my hair flowing and my legs exposed, but when I smile they ever-so-timidly turn up the corners of their lips, eyes still wide at my awkwardly foreign prescence. The best, the thing that really makes my day, is when they walk past, but turn their heads and really grin over their shoulders. Bengali men just STARE, and I've even had a few pictures taken of me on cell-phone cameras. When I notice, I whip out my camera and take one right back. Probably not culturally appropriate of me, but I'm a bit put out and they're usually quite embarassed.
The other thing I've been contemplating heavily is the true meaning of service. I had serious food for thought yesterday when we went to visit a professor who had conducted a third-party study of the microfinance program of the NGO with which I'm working. As it turns out, he was a close associate of Mother Teresa from his days as a student in 1964 until her death in 1997. He was, obviously, a very interesting person and quoted Mother Teresa as saying that service is not true service until it hurts you. Until you forgo a meal and experience the pain of hunger, in exchange for alleviating the suffering of another, you have not truly served God or humanity. A stirring claim, and one that I will hold in my heart in the weeks to come. My belly has always been full and my needs always satisfied in every way. Yet the more time I spend in this country the more I am convinced that taking an actual or virtual vow of poverty, as a nun or NGO worker, is not my path to change the world. I am a strong believer in job creation, social enterprise, and corporate social responsibility as the next great frontier in solving poverty... If true service is painful, then giving up my American princess comforts to spend time understanding India and its people may qualify. But to truly change the world in a sustainable and lasting way, I am working my way to a solution that encompasses my personal talents and ambitions as well as alleviates the suffering of others - I'm just looking for a great idea, a whiz-bang breakthrough. The space to think and dream is really helping out. Suggestions are welcome. Love to you all...Daron
I've had ample time to think and read and pray here in India. It's been a really, really good trip for the soul. I feel awakened to some universal truths that are hard to realize when your nose is to the grindstone and you're only anticipating the next deadline... I've had a lot of time to consider what it means to be a stranger in a strange land, as every time I step outside the door I am reminded how far I am from home and every time I speak others struggle to understand. I just finished reading Interpreter of Maladies, which is a book about Indian-Americans by Jhumpa Lahiri. A-m-a-z-i-n-g book, it's so hard to believe that it was her first novel! The collection of short stories are all about bridging the isolation between people and generations and nations...how sometimes it is impossible, and how sometimes it's the only thing that saves us. Language is a huge barrier, and even though many people speak English my American accent might as well be gibberish. I tend to try to overcome the isolation with a smile, wild hand gestures, a few broken Bengali phrases; yet I struggle to find culturally appropriate responses to social situations (I always seem to fail). I have been thrilled with the responses of my tiny efforts to bridge this cultural and relational divide with Bengali women...they are so beautiful and modest in their saris, and many rarely leave home. I must be like a flamingo walking down the street to them, with my hair flowing and my legs exposed, but when I smile they ever-so-timidly turn up the corners of their lips, eyes still wide at my awkwardly foreign prescence. The best, the thing that really makes my day, is when they walk past, but turn their heads and really grin over their shoulders. Bengali men just STARE, and I've even had a few pictures taken of me on cell-phone cameras. When I notice, I whip out my camera and take one right back. Probably not culturally appropriate of me, but I'm a bit put out and they're usually quite embarassed.
The other thing I've been contemplating heavily is the true meaning of service. I had serious food for thought yesterday when we went to visit a professor who had conducted a third-party study of the microfinance program of the NGO with which I'm working. As it turns out, he was a close associate of Mother Teresa from his days as a student in 1964 until her death in 1997. He was, obviously, a very interesting person and quoted Mother Teresa as saying that service is not true service until it hurts you. Until you forgo a meal and experience the pain of hunger, in exchange for alleviating the suffering of another, you have not truly served God or humanity. A stirring claim, and one that I will hold in my heart in the weeks to come. My belly has always been full and my needs always satisfied in every way. Yet the more time I spend in this country the more I am convinced that taking an actual or virtual vow of poverty, as a nun or NGO worker, is not my path to change the world. I am a strong believer in job creation, social enterprise, and corporate social responsibility as the next great frontier in solving poverty... If true service is painful, then giving up my American princess comforts to spend time understanding India and its people may qualify. But to truly change the world in a sustainable and lasting way, I am working my way to a solution that encompasses my personal talents and ambitions as well as alleviates the suffering of others - I'm just looking for a great idea, a whiz-bang breakthrough. The space to think and dream is really helping out. Suggestions are welcome. Love to you all...Daron
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Poop Soup
My time in this amazing country is flying by, as evidenced by my sporadic posts. It's tough to discipline myself to sit down and type when there's so much going on outside, but my mom rightly reminded me that this is the best way to preserve my memories and share it all with you!
Last weekend was probably the most fun, scary, wild, India-with-a-capital-I-N-D-I-A experience yet. Finally the whole group of Robertson Scholars got together to make a weekend trip to Varanasi, a small city on the Ganges river that is one of the holiest sites in Hinduism. We departed the Howrah train station in Kolkata on a Friday night. It is hard to imagine that there are as many people in the whole world as you see in one glance at the Howrah train station - it is massive, dingy, noisy, and absolutely packed! To get there, you must cross over the most trafficked bridge in the world over the Hooghly River, if that tells you anything. I just can't get over the teeming masses of humanity in India. Needless to say, the concept of personal space is almost non-existent.
The train trips, once you make it into the car and clean up your sure-to-be-dirty berth, are kind of fun! Maybe because I've never experienced anything like it before, not even in Europe but especially not in the US. We played Travel Scrabble before dozing off...Grandmommy would be proud, as Yousef and I dominated with a 54-point bomb: "wizard" on a triple-word score. Oh yeah!
We arrived in Varanasi close to noon and thought (oh, how naive) that we'd drop off our luggage at the Ganpati Guest House before grabbing a bite of lunch. We started off from the train station in a taxi. A word about cab fare in India: it's always negotiable and you rarely end up where you expected to be. Most drivers try to wildly overcharge tourists, so we either send Anjali, the godsend member of the group who speaks Hindi, to negotiate a rate while we hide behind a corner; or insist on the meter - that usually involves a bit of yelling. So we get in a cab at the station, which takes us maybe half a mile, the driver all the while trying to convince us that our hotel is dirty and burned down - no joke! Most drivers are in cahoots with hotels that give them a hefty commission for bringing tourists through the front door, so they have a great incentive NOT to take you where you want to go. He then drops us off, telling us he can't go any further, which turned out to be true - at the time we were skeptical - and gave some very vague directions to our hotel. We walked for a bit, then realized we still were nowhere close to our destination, and hailed cycle rickshaws. The cycle rickshaws are cramped, feel absurd and more than a bit colonial, and it became clear after a while that the drivers did NOT know how to get where we had directed them to go. We finally commanded them to stop, refused to pay the exorbitant rate they were charging, and ran into a man who said he would take us there by...boat. Yes, we arrived at our hotel on the river Ganges by rowboat, after 2 hours of transit...I think we tried every method but airplane!
We collapsed for a few minutes in the hotel, which was really quite charming and colorful. It was full of foreign tourists and my room had a great view of the Ganges and a little patio to enjoy. We then ventured out in search of lunch. The streets of Varanasi, at least close to the water, are really better described as alleyways. Even with a map I had no idea where we were. Furthermore, I have never seen a city where cows, oxen, goats, and MONKEYS share the streets so unabashedly with people. We stumbled on the Ganga Fuji restaurant and had a very extended meal - the sweetly eccentric host brought out our meals one at a time over the course of an hour and a half!
We then ventured out in search of the Golden Temple, a Hindu temple with a gorgeous gold dome. It took us ages to find, as we kept being pointed in different directions by various shopkeepers who were simultaneously assailing us with offers. You just have to keep moving or risk being hassled for hours. It was not really visible from the street, but was hidden - almost like a city within a city, for the temple was ringed with shops selling offerings for the gods. The security around the temple was draconian - I was very grateful for the female security guard considering the patdown I was given. We later realized that the extreme measures were in place because the Hindu temple and a Muslim mosque were right next to one another and India is rife with religious terrorism. We could not enter the temple itself, because we are obviously not Hindu, although a few hucksters tried to get us in for pay anyways. But it was cool to see the garlands, sweets, milk, and foods offered to the deities and the outside of the temple, as well as the monkeys casually calling to one another and carrying monkey babies (!) on their stomachs.
I suppose I forgot to mention that during the search and tour mission it was pouring rain. Monsoon season is not particularly predictable, but when it rains it pours...as time progresses it becomes more frequent, crescendoing to quite the flooded finish in August and September. By the time we returned to the hotel we were soaked to the bone, but left soon after to witness the ganga puga ceremony on the banks of the Ganges. Every night at one of the ghats (enormous steps leading down to the river, at the tops of which are scattered more than 100 small temples) a ceremony for Mother Ganges is performed. The seven young brahmin priests perform a mystical, perfectly choreographed, hour-long ritual waving incense and smoky goblets, scattering flowers, and blowing into conch shells. It was a beautiful end to a somewhat frustrating day - an absolutely captivating ritual that was so unique to this area of the world. We ended the night with dinner in a nearby hotel - well actually, I begged the waiter to serve me breakfast and actually succeded!
The next morning we woke up before dawn to experience what is at the top of every tour guide's reccommendation for Varanasi - a sunrise cruise down the river to see the morning light strike the ghats and witness the pilgrims bathing and praying in the river. Although the morning was a bit overcast it was still a beautiful, mist-laden, very spiritual time, moving silently along the banks of an ancient city. We also dropped candles in little boats into the river, accompanied by a little silent prayer from me for good health and great personal growth as I enjoy this summer. Perhaps most interesting were the burning ghats, places where the dead are dipped into the Ganges and cremated on her banks. Varanasi is a very auspicious place to die in Hinduism, because if you are cremated there the cycle of reincarnation is broken...I think. Don't quote me on this!
We returned to the hotel before 7 (I swear I have never been an early riser like I am here) and had a leisurely breakfast. We met up with Micky and Ramesh, two local boys that Anjali and Maggie had met the night before and apparently charmed into giving us a tour. We set out for the middle of town, where we would leave for a Buddhist temple. When we arrived, Micky and Ramesh zoomed off with Anjali and Maggie on the back of their motorcycles, leaving the rest of us confused and more than a little concerned. Yet the most disconcerting thing was the rising water, the more we ventured inland. It first started as a trickle, then came to the ankle, then to mid-calf. As the rain continued to pour we found ourselves thigh-deep in monsoon flooding!!! With the aid of cell phones the entire group met at a gas station - Anjali and Maggie returning when the waters were too much for the motorcycles, the rest of us arriving on foot or the back of a cycle rickshaw.
The flood waters were really a sight to behold. The locals seemed to be enjoying themselves, and it was fun to abandon any hope of remaining dry and splash about. But I was stopped from going in voluntarily by the realization that the poop of all those animals that wander the streets of Varanasi, as well as the trash that is never picked up, mingled in those waters, creating a hygenic horror the likes of which I had never dreamed! Ugh, it was unspeakably disgusting, and after paying an exorbitant rate to a cycle rickshaw driver to return us to the hotel we all took SCALDING showers. The rest of the morning we hung out in the hotel with the foreign tourists, swapping stories and speaking in French, while we tried to formulate a strategy for getting to the train station without going back through the nasty sewage water.
Ultimately we had a hotel employee lead us through some back streets to a waiting autorickshaw that took us to a restaurant near the train station very dry and happy, thank you very much. We spent about 3 hours as the only customers in El Palermo, a Mexican-Italian-Chinese restaurant clearly catering to Western tourists seeking a taste of something...not Indian. The train was delayed by about an hour, and the return trip was pretty miserable for a couple of very sick members of the group (thankfully I was not among them; I have yet to pay my traveller's sickness dues but I know it's coming). Our return to Kolkata couldn't have come soon enough, and I know that Maggie was very grateful for Saraj's motherly care while she was feeling sick. Best house mother ever!
Thus I survived the monsoon in Varanasi. Let me tell you, the inner princess is being quickly stamped out of me as I experience cold showers, constant stares, going to the bathroom in holes in moving trains (a feat of balance and muscle endurance), and wading through waist-deep poop soup. But it's all so much fun, and feels so intrepid and wild, that I just can't complain! I'm doing things that I NEVER thought I would do, and that's exactly the reason that I should be here at this moment in my life. Love to you all...Daron
Last weekend was probably the most fun, scary, wild, India-with-a-capital-I-N-D-I-A experience yet. Finally the whole group of Robertson Scholars got together to make a weekend trip to Varanasi, a small city on the Ganges river that is one of the holiest sites in Hinduism. We departed the Howrah train station in Kolkata on a Friday night. It is hard to imagine that there are as many people in the whole world as you see in one glance at the Howrah train station - it is massive, dingy, noisy, and absolutely packed! To get there, you must cross over the most trafficked bridge in the world over the Hooghly River, if that tells you anything. I just can't get over the teeming masses of humanity in India. Needless to say, the concept of personal space is almost non-existent.
The train trips, once you make it into the car and clean up your sure-to-be-dirty berth, are kind of fun! Maybe because I've never experienced anything like it before, not even in Europe but especially not in the US. We played Travel Scrabble before dozing off...Grandmommy would be proud, as Yousef and I dominated with a 54-point bomb: "wizard" on a triple-word score. Oh yeah!
We arrived in Varanasi close to noon and thought (oh, how naive) that we'd drop off our luggage at the Ganpati Guest House before grabbing a bite of lunch. We started off from the train station in a taxi. A word about cab fare in India: it's always negotiable and you rarely end up where you expected to be. Most drivers try to wildly overcharge tourists, so we either send Anjali, the godsend member of the group who speaks Hindi, to negotiate a rate while we hide behind a corner; or insist on the meter - that usually involves a bit of yelling. So we get in a cab at the station, which takes us maybe half a mile, the driver all the while trying to convince us that our hotel is dirty and burned down - no joke! Most drivers are in cahoots with hotels that give them a hefty commission for bringing tourists through the front door, so they have a great incentive NOT to take you where you want to go. He then drops us off, telling us he can't go any further, which turned out to be true - at the time we were skeptical - and gave some very vague directions to our hotel. We walked for a bit, then realized we still were nowhere close to our destination, and hailed cycle rickshaws. The cycle rickshaws are cramped, feel absurd and more than a bit colonial, and it became clear after a while that the drivers did NOT know how to get where we had directed them to go. We finally commanded them to stop, refused to pay the exorbitant rate they were charging, and ran into a man who said he would take us there by...boat. Yes, we arrived at our hotel on the river Ganges by rowboat, after 2 hours of transit...I think we tried every method but airplane!
We collapsed for a few minutes in the hotel, which was really quite charming and colorful. It was full of foreign tourists and my room had a great view of the Ganges and a little patio to enjoy. We then ventured out in search of lunch. The streets of Varanasi, at least close to the water, are really better described as alleyways. Even with a map I had no idea where we were. Furthermore, I have never seen a city where cows, oxen, goats, and MONKEYS share the streets so unabashedly with people. We stumbled on the Ganga Fuji restaurant and had a very extended meal - the sweetly eccentric host brought out our meals one at a time over the course of an hour and a half!
We then ventured out in search of the Golden Temple, a Hindu temple with a gorgeous gold dome. It took us ages to find, as we kept being pointed in different directions by various shopkeepers who were simultaneously assailing us with offers. You just have to keep moving or risk being hassled for hours. It was not really visible from the street, but was hidden - almost like a city within a city, for the temple was ringed with shops selling offerings for the gods. The security around the temple was draconian - I was very grateful for the female security guard considering the patdown I was given. We later realized that the extreme measures were in place because the Hindu temple and a Muslim mosque were right next to one another and India is rife with religious terrorism. We could not enter the temple itself, because we are obviously not Hindu, although a few hucksters tried to get us in for pay anyways. But it was cool to see the garlands, sweets, milk, and foods offered to the deities and the outside of the temple, as well as the monkeys casually calling to one another and carrying monkey babies (!) on their stomachs.
I suppose I forgot to mention that during the search and tour mission it was pouring rain. Monsoon season is not particularly predictable, but when it rains it pours...as time progresses it becomes more frequent, crescendoing to quite the flooded finish in August and September. By the time we returned to the hotel we were soaked to the bone, but left soon after to witness the ganga puga ceremony on the banks of the Ganges. Every night at one of the ghats (enormous steps leading down to the river, at the tops of which are scattered more than 100 small temples) a ceremony for Mother Ganges is performed. The seven young brahmin priests perform a mystical, perfectly choreographed, hour-long ritual waving incense and smoky goblets, scattering flowers, and blowing into conch shells. It was a beautiful end to a somewhat frustrating day - an absolutely captivating ritual that was so unique to this area of the world. We ended the night with dinner in a nearby hotel - well actually, I begged the waiter to serve me breakfast and actually succeded!
The next morning we woke up before dawn to experience what is at the top of every tour guide's reccommendation for Varanasi - a sunrise cruise down the river to see the morning light strike the ghats and witness the pilgrims bathing and praying in the river. Although the morning was a bit overcast it was still a beautiful, mist-laden, very spiritual time, moving silently along the banks of an ancient city. We also dropped candles in little boats into the river, accompanied by a little silent prayer from me for good health and great personal growth as I enjoy this summer. Perhaps most interesting were the burning ghats, places where the dead are dipped into the Ganges and cremated on her banks. Varanasi is a very auspicious place to die in Hinduism, because if you are cremated there the cycle of reincarnation is broken...I think. Don't quote me on this!
We returned to the hotel before 7 (I swear I have never been an early riser like I am here) and had a leisurely breakfast. We met up with Micky and Ramesh, two local boys that Anjali and Maggie had met the night before and apparently charmed into giving us a tour. We set out for the middle of town, where we would leave for a Buddhist temple. When we arrived, Micky and Ramesh zoomed off with Anjali and Maggie on the back of their motorcycles, leaving the rest of us confused and more than a little concerned. Yet the most disconcerting thing was the rising water, the more we ventured inland. It first started as a trickle, then came to the ankle, then to mid-calf. As the rain continued to pour we found ourselves thigh-deep in monsoon flooding!!! With the aid of cell phones the entire group met at a gas station - Anjali and Maggie returning when the waters were too much for the motorcycles, the rest of us arriving on foot or the back of a cycle rickshaw.
The flood waters were really a sight to behold. The locals seemed to be enjoying themselves, and it was fun to abandon any hope of remaining dry and splash about. But I was stopped from going in voluntarily by the realization that the poop of all those animals that wander the streets of Varanasi, as well as the trash that is never picked up, mingled in those waters, creating a hygenic horror the likes of which I had never dreamed! Ugh, it was unspeakably disgusting, and after paying an exorbitant rate to a cycle rickshaw driver to return us to the hotel we all took SCALDING showers. The rest of the morning we hung out in the hotel with the foreign tourists, swapping stories and speaking in French, while we tried to formulate a strategy for getting to the train station without going back through the nasty sewage water.
Ultimately we had a hotel employee lead us through some back streets to a waiting autorickshaw that took us to a restaurant near the train station very dry and happy, thank you very much. We spent about 3 hours as the only customers in El Palermo, a Mexican-Italian-Chinese restaurant clearly catering to Western tourists seeking a taste of something...not Indian. The train was delayed by about an hour, and the return trip was pretty miserable for a couple of very sick members of the group (thankfully I was not among them; I have yet to pay my traveller's sickness dues but I know it's coming). Our return to Kolkata couldn't have come soon enough, and I know that Maggie was very grateful for Saraj's motherly care while she was feeling sick. Best house mother ever!
Thus I survived the monsoon in Varanasi. Let me tell you, the inner princess is being quickly stamped out of me as I experience cold showers, constant stares, going to the bathroom in holes in moving trains (a feat of balance and muscle endurance), and wading through waist-deep poop soup. But it's all so much fun, and feels so intrepid and wild, that I just can't complain! I'm doing things that I NEVER thought I would do, and that's exactly the reason that I should be here at this moment in my life. Love to you all...Daron
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World
Yow! It's been a crazy week, once again...I have a distinct feeling that that's not going to stop. To calm your worries (I know Mom and Dad are the primary readers here) I am having a BLAST. I feel so ALIVE and young and intrepid exploring this totally foreign land far from home. I still have difficult moments, but I am firmly bitten by the travel bug.
Last weekend Aaron, Maggie and I hopped an overnight train to Bodhgaya, the site of Buddha's enlightenment that is in the Bihar province of India. The city of Kolkata was totally shut down due to a massive strike and we managed to get to the train station only after the strike ended at 6 pm. After a long wait in a line in which I gave many sweaty Indian men the stink eye as they tried to cut in line and yelling "queue!" very forcefully, we got last-minute tickets (something about charts not being changed after leaving the destination city).
We arrived in Bodhgaya at 6 am the next morning...talk about a world away. The Bihar province is India's poorest, and very rural. I enjoyed escaping the fast pace of the city, but the poverty in Bodhgaya was just shocking, maybe because it was such a small place and we really had a chance to interact with the locals. The people of Bodhgaya - indeed, of India - are very helpful and hospitable, but it is difficult to not put up a wall because, as a very white tourist, I am a walking attention target, for better and for worse. In fact, I had to reluctantly agree with my friend Yousef, who said that I might be the palest person some people had ever seen! I'm starting to get used to the absurd amount of stares I attract, but the first few days were really unnerving. I've never turned heads like this before!
We had a nice opportunity to stroll about Bodhgaya, visiting all the temples at our leisure, enjoying a long lunch and shopping for all kinds of goodies (Maggie bought a sari and is insisting that I get one before we leave the country, little does she know this will never happen :) ). My purchases were a brass "ohm" bowl and Carolina Blue prayer beads - something tells me I'm going to need them this football season! The Bodhi Pallanka (the Place of Enlightenment) was gorgeous and serene, and the Great Buddha Statue was a sight to behold. I wish that I felt some spiritual connection to these eastern religions - I certainly respect their historical and cultural eminence - but I do not feel God in the temples of India. Where I do feel and see God is in the faces of the people and the (frequent) moments of personal reflection when I realize how nothing separates me from the young mother, begging and breastfeeding in the train station, other than some vast cosmic lottery that I won through no effort or personal virtue...The constant question that faces me is: what will I do with that ticket to alleviate the suffering of others? Every day it weighs more in my pocket.
We returned to the train station in a packed autorickshaw. For some inexplicable reason, but this detail really stands out in my mind, the Bodhgaya train station was absolutely FILLED with enormous CRICKETS. Yikes. While Maggie and I tried not to doze off on a bench and swatted away the insects/beasts, Aaron argued with various train station officials in broken Hindi and English about getting on the train - yes! The old problem of booking seats on a train that already left its destination city returned to haunt us...this is difficult because most trains go all the way across India, a 40-hour trek. The place is mind-bogglingly large. Basically, we had to beg a ticket-taker to let us on as a train stopped for just a few minutes in Bodhgaya. It was crazy, and it took 2 tries, but we finally met a sympathetic man with extra seats and just made it. Otherwise we would have ended up in the sleeper cars and my health-related worries were confirmed looking at the feverish-looking children trying to sleep on the platform. We stumbled into Kolkata the next morning, very smelly and utterly exhausted but still flying high from a great adventure!
The week went by in an utter blur...Monday the entire group went shopping in Kolkata for mobile phones and train tickets, Tuesday we went in to work at BRWS and meet with our mentor Dr. Santanu (I'll post more about work later). Wednesday, Maggie, Anjali and I worked from home - I researched website redesign for BRWS and nonprofit consulting. We also went to dinner that night at Mainland China, a delicious Chinese restaurant, with Anjali's friend Harsh, a Kolkata native and Duke senior! He took us to the best chai tea stand in Kolkata - I'm still dreaming about that tea - and emanates good-person vibes. Really, I'm surrounded by the most wonderful people this summer and I'm thankful every day. Thursday the whole group dined with Walia and Irani, who are the most gracious hosts imaginable and solicitous of our every need even though we do not even work for their organization. I want to be like them when I grow up; they are constantly filled with joy. And Friday we departed for Varanasi, which proved to be the source of my most insane travel stories to date. But I'm feeling carpal tunnel coming on from typing so much, so you'll have to tune in soon to hear all about the madness of Hinduism's holiest city on the Ganges! Love to you all...Daron
Last weekend Aaron, Maggie and I hopped an overnight train to Bodhgaya, the site of Buddha's enlightenment that is in the Bihar province of India. The city of Kolkata was totally shut down due to a massive strike and we managed to get to the train station only after the strike ended at 6 pm. After a long wait in a line in which I gave many sweaty Indian men the stink eye as they tried to cut in line and yelling "queue!" very forcefully, we got last-minute tickets (something about charts not being changed after leaving the destination city).
We arrived in Bodhgaya at 6 am the next morning...talk about a world away. The Bihar province is India's poorest, and very rural. I enjoyed escaping the fast pace of the city, but the poverty in Bodhgaya was just shocking, maybe because it was such a small place and we really had a chance to interact with the locals. The people of Bodhgaya - indeed, of India - are very helpful and hospitable, but it is difficult to not put up a wall because, as a very white tourist, I am a walking attention target, for better and for worse. In fact, I had to reluctantly agree with my friend Yousef, who said that I might be the palest person some people had ever seen! I'm starting to get used to the absurd amount of stares I attract, but the first few days were really unnerving. I've never turned heads like this before!
We had a nice opportunity to stroll about Bodhgaya, visiting all the temples at our leisure, enjoying a long lunch and shopping for all kinds of goodies (Maggie bought a sari and is insisting that I get one before we leave the country, little does she know this will never happen :) ). My purchases were a brass "ohm" bowl and Carolina Blue prayer beads - something tells me I'm going to need them this football season! The Bodhi Pallanka (the Place of Enlightenment) was gorgeous and serene, and the Great Buddha Statue was a sight to behold. I wish that I felt some spiritual connection to these eastern religions - I certainly respect their historical and cultural eminence - but I do not feel God in the temples of India. Where I do feel and see God is in the faces of the people and the (frequent) moments of personal reflection when I realize how nothing separates me from the young mother, begging and breastfeeding in the train station, other than some vast cosmic lottery that I won through no effort or personal virtue...The constant question that faces me is: what will I do with that ticket to alleviate the suffering of others? Every day it weighs more in my pocket.
We returned to the train station in a packed autorickshaw. For some inexplicable reason, but this detail really stands out in my mind, the Bodhgaya train station was absolutely FILLED with enormous CRICKETS. Yikes. While Maggie and I tried not to doze off on a bench and swatted away the insects/beasts, Aaron argued with various train station officials in broken Hindi and English about getting on the train - yes! The old problem of booking seats on a train that already left its destination city returned to haunt us...this is difficult because most trains go all the way across India, a 40-hour trek. The place is mind-bogglingly large. Basically, we had to beg a ticket-taker to let us on as a train stopped for just a few minutes in Bodhgaya. It was crazy, and it took 2 tries, but we finally met a sympathetic man with extra seats and just made it. Otherwise we would have ended up in the sleeper cars and my health-related worries were confirmed looking at the feverish-looking children trying to sleep on the platform. We stumbled into Kolkata the next morning, very smelly and utterly exhausted but still flying high from a great adventure!
The week went by in an utter blur...Monday the entire group went shopping in Kolkata for mobile phones and train tickets, Tuesday we went in to work at BRWS and meet with our mentor Dr. Santanu (I'll post more about work later). Wednesday, Maggie, Anjali and I worked from home - I researched website redesign for BRWS and nonprofit consulting. We also went to dinner that night at Mainland China, a delicious Chinese restaurant, with Anjali's friend Harsh, a Kolkata native and Duke senior! He took us to the best chai tea stand in Kolkata - I'm still dreaming about that tea - and emanates good-person vibes. Really, I'm surrounded by the most wonderful people this summer and I'm thankful every day. Thursday the whole group dined with Walia and Irani, who are the most gracious hosts imaginable and solicitous of our every need even though we do not even work for their organization. I want to be like them when I grow up; they are constantly filled with joy. And Friday we departed for Varanasi, which proved to be the source of my most insane travel stories to date. But I'm feeling carpal tunnel coming on from typing so much, so you'll have to tune in soon to hear all about the madness of Hinduism's holiest city on the Ganges! Love to you all...Daron
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
In the News
Oh wow! I just clicked over to the New York Times website and they have a beautifully written article that perfectly describes the insane dichotomy between desperate poverty and sickness and lavish temples and condominiums that I encounter every day here. Check it out!
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/09/world/asia/09gated.html?em&ex=1213243200&en=b888cc50c6fc0af6&ei=5087%0A
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/09/world/asia/09gated.html?em&ex=1213243200&en=b888cc50c6fc0af6&ei=5087%0A
Playing Catch-Up
I am almost a week behind in my blog posts! Eek! And Mom told me last night that she sent this address to family and friends, so hi! You'll keep me motivated to post regularly and keep it interesting :D
I suppose that I should set the scene for these posts, to give you an understanding of how I experience the city. The easiest way to express my feelings about Kolkata might be...sensory overload. The city is absolutely teeming with people, 14.7 million according to my guidebook, so that's almost twice the size of New York. I already described the traffic, but maybe not the sensation that some of the drivers seem to be actually aiming for you. There is no sanitation service in India whatsoever, so there is trash absolutely everywhere, and lots of mud besides, creating overpowering smells. Just walking around is a regular obstacle course! It is also loud, mostly from the street noise and the honking horns. The poverty is sprawling, squalid, ceaseless. I've already refused more beggars than I have in my entire life in the US. Kolkata is dirty and polluted - I wake up every morning with a stuffy nose and sore throat from breathing that air all night. I sweat constantly, and smell pretty bad for it - it's a struggle to stay hydrated and I probably drink 4 liters of water a day. I use hand sanitizer as much as possible. And it's indescribably hot and humid, which has only gotten worse with the arrival of the monsoon.
And yet I LOVE this city! It's absolutely beautiful in all its glorious, decrepit, picturesque decay. There is no better place in the world to people-watch, I guarantee it, because at all hours of the day and night the city is alive.
After the first day of sweetsweet sleep and trying to get over my jet lag, we went to lunch at the home of Walia and Irani. The group of Robertsons in Kolkata this summer are Julia, Chris, Yousef, Maggie, Anjali, and I, plus one older Robbie who is not working with us - his name is Aaron. We were able to meet the NGO heads with whom we would be working and slowly grew accustomed to the Indian accent. It can be quite difficult for me to understand, as I'm sure my accent is to them. It's actually best to speak English with an Indian accent if you ever hope to be understood, and to keep it very slow - I am actually surprised that more people do not speak English here. Yet most people are multilingual - Urdu, Hindi, Bengali, I even heard some French in Bodhgaya! The lunch was delicious, but towards the end Walia received a phone call that Kolkata would be under a banh - a strike - for the next two days. After dispersing for lunch, we all went to our separate homestays.
I will be living for the duration of my Kolkata adventure at the home of Saraj and Opie Dhali (I hope I'm spelling that right) with Maggie and Anjali. I'll post pictures very soon, as they're dear people and we're so comfortable with them. They are vegetarians, so I've had Saraj's amazing vegetarian food for a full week now! Maggie is a very slender girl, and they've already made it their goal that she gain 2.5 kilos while she's here. After unpacking and a nap, Maggie and I tried to entertain ourselves, but by the next morning, we were pretty much staring at our navels. During the banh, the entire city shuts down - no public transportation, taxis, or shops - and we had no clue how to navigate our neighborhood and weren't sure of our safety even if we could. At about noon we called Aaron, who has been in India since early May, and the next adventure began...to be continued next post!
I suppose that I should set the scene for these posts, to give you an understanding of how I experience the city. The easiest way to express my feelings about Kolkata might be...sensory overload. The city is absolutely teeming with people, 14.7 million according to my guidebook, so that's almost twice the size of New York. I already described the traffic, but maybe not the sensation that some of the drivers seem to be actually aiming for you. There is no sanitation service in India whatsoever, so there is trash absolutely everywhere, and lots of mud besides, creating overpowering smells. Just walking around is a regular obstacle course! It is also loud, mostly from the street noise and the honking horns. The poverty is sprawling, squalid, ceaseless. I've already refused more beggars than I have in my entire life in the US. Kolkata is dirty and polluted - I wake up every morning with a stuffy nose and sore throat from breathing that air all night. I sweat constantly, and smell pretty bad for it - it's a struggle to stay hydrated and I probably drink 4 liters of water a day. I use hand sanitizer as much as possible. And it's indescribably hot and humid, which has only gotten worse with the arrival of the monsoon.
And yet I LOVE this city! It's absolutely beautiful in all its glorious, decrepit, picturesque decay. There is no better place in the world to people-watch, I guarantee it, because at all hours of the day and night the city is alive.
After the first day of sweetsweet sleep and trying to get over my jet lag, we went to lunch at the home of Walia and Irani. The group of Robertsons in Kolkata this summer are Julia, Chris, Yousef, Maggie, Anjali, and I, plus one older Robbie who is not working with us - his name is Aaron. We were able to meet the NGO heads with whom we would be working and slowly grew accustomed to the Indian accent. It can be quite difficult for me to understand, as I'm sure my accent is to them. It's actually best to speak English with an Indian accent if you ever hope to be understood, and to keep it very slow - I am actually surprised that more people do not speak English here. Yet most people are multilingual - Urdu, Hindi, Bengali, I even heard some French in Bodhgaya! The lunch was delicious, but towards the end Walia received a phone call that Kolkata would be under a banh - a strike - for the next two days. After dispersing for lunch, we all went to our separate homestays.
I will be living for the duration of my Kolkata adventure at the home of Saraj and Opie Dhali (I hope I'm spelling that right) with Maggie and Anjali. I'll post pictures very soon, as they're dear people and we're so comfortable with them. They are vegetarians, so I've had Saraj's amazing vegetarian food for a full week now! Maggie is a very slender girl, and they've already made it their goal that she gain 2.5 kilos while she's here. After unpacking and a nap, Maggie and I tried to entertain ourselves, but by the next morning, we were pretty much staring at our navels. During the banh, the entire city shuts down - no public transportation, taxis, or shops - and we had no clue how to navigate our neighborhood and weren't sure of our safety even if we could. At about noon we called Aaron, who has been in India since early May, and the next adventure began...to be continued next post!
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