A Sample of A Day In My Life

One day Paulette asked me if I wanted to see a temple. We went via rickshaw (I’m now fine with them) for about 45 minutes. It was my first time seeing slums. I can't wrap my head around the fact that people truly live like that. I can't even imagine what that must be like. Perhaps that's due to my naiveté, or more likely, it's because if I was able to I wouldn't be able to function for a while. To be quite honest, I really am struggling with constantly feeling guilty here, and then feeling even more guilty for having the luxury of feeling guilty.

We went to one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen. As we walked through, she explained to me about some of the gods, and then we went over to a gathering in a different building. She was embraced by the organizers, and we were told to sit down. We had little tables placed in front of us, and were given 8 different types of food. It was delightful. I asked what they were celebrating, and was told there was no celebration, they just did this each year to honor the god of the temple. Upon leaving one of the women came over to me and thanked me for coming saying it pleased the god to have them feed as many people as possible.

And down.

After leaving the temple we went to meet our rickshaw driver who was simply a jerk. We had wanted to go to somewhere else right down the road, but he refused and started yelling, despite having agreed to go there early. After Paulette haggled with him, called a few people to negotiate with him in Hindi, (and I stood by useless) we once again took off. After only a bit we had company as he picked up a couple without asking us. I have learned that there is no such thing as personal space here.

And up.

She next took me to the monkey temple, once again despite the monkeys being petrifying little creatures it was beautiful. We had to go up a steep hill and back down to reach the temple. On our way down the hill she stopped outside a little shack to speak to “Baba.” (As I said, she knows everyone.) He invited us in for chai, and as they spoke in Hindi I looked out onto the temple and the surrounding hills, the small crowd of men staring at us (this is just a given so I almost forgot to mention it), drinking chai and wondering how the heck I was there.

Source: PictureNice

We returned home and had 6 people over for dinner. After eating they put on traditional music and just started dancing. Never have I felt like a worse dancer. I tried to get them to let me just sit there, while they tried to teach me Indian dances. 

My wrists, neck and hips are simply way too American.

Enjoy Your Ride on the Indian Express Coaster

I love roller coasters, truly love them. I've even found a picture of me on one in Taiwan to help illustrate this point.

My Indian life is best likened to a roller coaster for people who feel less passionately about them. (Like the guy on the far left of this picture.) The nerves before, the up, down, up, down with the occasional loop with the subsequent excitement, headache and occasional nausea.

Down.
My first night in India I had the following conversation via text message with my mom:
Me: Mom, can we talk?
Mom: I’ve been waiting. Are you safe?
Me: Yes. I’m safe. Just overwhelmed.
Mom: Ok. Not happy?
Me: It’s just like… INDIA
Mom: Poverty
Me: exactly. There’s trash on the streets. There’s people staring, there’s rats. Luckily there’s cows too which is kinda cool.
Mom: Omg.

That morning I had arrived in Jaipur. Paulette, my French housemate, gave me the number of a rickshaw driver to contact once I got there. As soon as I left the singular room (terminal?) I saw a mass of people outside. I could barely see out of the front window because there were so many people. I knew that India had population problem, but this was insane. I later learned that all those people had showed up (at 8 am) to welcome a tv star to their city. “Don’t these people have work?” is something I say to myself probably 10 times a day.

A rickshaw can best be described as a metal box attached to a motorbike. Riding in one for the first time was petrifying despite the friendliness of my driver. We were going over bridges and under bridges, beside elephants, and around camels pulling massive carts of vegetables. I’ve never seen so much dust, trash or people in my life. It’s chaos. By the time I got to the house, I too was questioning my judgment. 

Source: TravelPod

That evening Paulette and I went to go see some of her friends (this girl knows everyone) and on the way back I’ll admit I almost cried I was so scared for my life. That night I had the above conversation with my mother... before the internet shut off for a few days… like me, it’s frequently overwhelmed.

And back up.

The next morning I awoke to a lovely little breakfast and chai. I began to feel a bit better as long as I didn’t need to leave the house. (The life of a hermit sounds rather appealing here.) I tried contacting the NGO and began trying to get situated. One of my biggest tasks was learning how to explain where I now lived despite there being no major landmarks nearby with a language barrier. I can’t just write it down as illiteracy is a factor and we don’t technically have an address. (Oh India.) After meeting some other people, we had a dinner party at our house. I started to feel at least a bit better. An amazing cook, Paulette is teaching me the ropes. The best part of dinner preparations was the feeding of the cows. There's probably over 30 cows that live in our little neighborhood. Occasionally one will stop by our gate and moo. They're adorable traveling compost machines, eating the scraps outside of people's gates. 

"How" the brown cow. Pictured next to my home in the abandoned lot that had been "cleaned" that morning.

The next week or two have passed in a similar fashion. I wake up, try my email, clean (myself using a bucket, my clothes in a bucket, or the house with a bucket), go buy vegetables (the stands closes from 12-5), drink chai, have tons of people stare at me, cook, dodge a cow, clean, wonder why the music is so loud all the time, try to email my NGO, give up, find other ways to do my project, and have Paulette take me on little adventures around the city.

I've started to get my footing, but each time I think I've gotten it, something throws me. I don't think I'll ever find life here "comfortable" but it will probably always be "surprising."

Incredible (poverty, sites, transportation, trash, cows) India

I’m in India now.
I’ve been waiting to write this for a few reasons. The main reason is that I don’t really have Internet, and when I do my blog doesn’t want to load. In a way that’s okay (I can hear my mom saying, “how is that okay?”)

I wanted to get a bit more settled, and be in the right state of mind before trying to attempt to explain India. Whenever I told people about my trip they would nod and smile until I told them I was going to India… then they would tell me to be safe while questioning my sanity.
India's tourism slogan is "Incredible India." I would like to propose they change that to "Overwhelming India." I realize they lose the benefit of alliteration, but I think it's more accurate. As I sit here there is music that is so loud that I have a hard time thinking. Standing outside my house, there are probably 60 women in saris as part of the second day of a wedding ceremony. In a nearby neighborhood trash heap there’s two cows enjoying the leftovers while dogs try to steal some scraps. I’ve seen all the things people told me about—the poverty, the trash, the rats, the stares, the cheats, and of course the incredible sexism. Yet, there's a beauty to this country I can't quite quantify. I can give so many reasons for why I should hate it here or be miserable-- but I don't and I'm not. As one of my friends here told me, “India can be beautiful, you just have to give it a chance.” I just hope it gives me a chance too.

Might as well set up a celebration near our gate...