Indian Time and Other Confusions

A Baffled And Confused Indian Child

There are many things here that baffle and confuse me, but none more than the different concept of time. I’m a little obsessive about time. In my high school marching band there was a saying, “If you’re 15 minutes early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late.” This is one of my mottos in life. Basically, I really “found my people” in Taiwan. In fact this post could be titled “things that I’ve found that annoy me and are the opposite of how they do it in Taiwan.”

I’ve noticed here that “15 minutes” generally means “1 hour, maybe 2, or perhaps in a few days or not at all.” Having a very specific plan to do something is the Indian equivalent of “let’s do lunch” or “how are you?” for Americans. You’re not going to actually be meeting for lunch, and you probably don’t really care about how the person truly is feeling. You really don’t have the time for either of those things.

When someone says “when can we do this big thing that will take planning and work on your part?” regardless of the details you just planned, pretend that never happened. There’s a 95% chance that they’ll be working, or at a 15 day funeral or at the 3 day wedding of their “cousin” who they aren’t actually related to and have probably never met. (Cousins are called brothers or sisters so the word “cousin” seems to be a sort of catch-all for anything from close friend to complete stranger.)

When I had 10 Indians over for Thanksgiving, the one person who showed up within an hour of when they were supposed to, went home and came back before 7 other people came… almost two hours late. I’m not really one to lose my temper, but if you want to see me lose it, come to the vegetarian Thanksgiving I cooked (with the help of two delightful girls) with a two burner stovetop and no grocery store then complain that despite making 7 dishes I hadn’t bought enough water.

It also didn’t help that I was seriously hangry from not eating all day for an 8 pm dinner. (My camera took pity on me and deleted all my pictures from this night… probably in hopes that I would just forget about it. I like to think my camera was looking out for me...)

But I did make a cute sign.

Saying Thank You

As far as I can gather if you consider someone a friend, you don’t thank him or her. Either that or I’ve just come across a certain segment of the population who firmly believes this.

Smiling

I smile, quite a bit. Now that I’ve had multiple random girls stop me to warn me to stop it, I’m going to firm my resolve to look miserable every time I leave the house. A fellow American I met recently wrote a delightful post, “Why India Turns Me Into An A**h****.” http://www.thebigfatworld.com/asia/india/india-turns-ah/ It’s exactly how I feel. I just hope it’s reversible.

 Smiling in The Acceptable Space of My Living Room

Light Switches

I live in a house with 2 bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a bathroom yet there are over 40 light switches. We also have multiple choices of loud indian women singing as our doorbell.

I wish my internet was strong enough to record them all for you…

Light Switches in My Bedroom

Lying

“Hello, how are you?” “Where you from?” “Are you married?”

This is the normal progression of questions here. First of all, I’m not a great liar. I can get the lie out if I plan it first, but if I’m questioned I break, fast. I never know if there’s a potential friendship or if I’m going to see them in the future. Let’s be frank, how awkward would the subsequent conversation be:

“So, you said your husband is coming next week, right?”

“Oh yeah, about that… I thought you were a creepy man I couldn’t trust. So, I made up a bizarre story about being married. By the way, I’m new to this country and in order to do my work I need to make contacts. I’m now going to ask for your help.”

One of the only times I said I was married was in Kathmandu. I ended up seeing that guy everywhere and he was very friendly. We sat together multiple times. My spur-of-the-moment husband was a weird amalgamation of my guy friends and two days later I couldn’t remember if my imaginary husband lived in Colorado or Connecticut (love you both) but my companion could.

There goes my life as a career criminal.

Interesting, I’ve had multiple cases of the opposite happen… after knowing a guy for weeks (he came to multiple dinner parties at our house) the fact that he was married, with kids, never came up.

Much love to you all and Happy Holidays!

Teacher Turnover, A Vow of Silence & A Wedding

I had an eyeopening talk with a teacher earlier this week. She was telling me how lack of resources is a big problem. For instance in "computer class" not only do they not have computers, but almost none of the students have ever seen one. I asked her if that was the biggest problem. She said, no, the biggest problem was teacher turnover. Only women teach and their parents marry them a year or two after they finish school.  Therefore, teacher turnover is astoundingly high.

Arranged marriages account for a vast majority (90%) of marriages here. Many of the other marriages are partly arranged. I've heard multiple stories of couples "running away" to marry because they weren't of the "right" caste, background, or family. Once a woman marries she is moved to her husband's house and her life is dictated by her in-laws. As my opinion on this subject is very skewed, I've decided to not talk about "women's lives in India" on this blog. I think it's too public, and fear I would end up bordering on being culturally insensitive. Despite being a "woman in India" I am not an "Indian woman." Plus that's not what my project is about. That being said, art in schools is not what India is about. But, I knew that, and that's part of the reason I'm here.
Speaking of marriages... (look at that transition.)
My house is on a "marriage yard" which is basically a large field where women in gorgeous saris and men in jeans eat, and then stand there, before a few of them (about 10 of the few hundred) have a mosh pit to the incredibly loud music playing. The bad news is this means my housemate and I generally have to forgo conversation on nights where there's a wedding (I'd say 2-4 times a week.)
Also, I can now sing this song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XclnbDlKYM0
The good news is that there's free entertainment on our roof. We act like fashion magazine editors: commenting on the outfits while really wishing we could eat all the food.
The wedding I mentioned in a previous post ended in a very interesting display and I got to be right in the thick of it. Just call me the international entertainment.
The procession to the wedding yard on the third day starts from the house of the groom. He rode a horse, which in this case, had splendidly painted pink hooves.

The sweetest moment of the night was when his grandmother was lifted up to say goodbye to him. My housemate captured this beautiful picture:

To the incredibly loud beating of drums the profession went through the neighborhood. The entire way women were dancing and spinning. The large group in attendance was lined by a series of large lanterns carried by hired hands.

I think we were invited to go to the actual wedding but declined... I was about to come down with stomach flu so I'm glad we did!

I wasn't properly up for dancing.

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... 

Things to Do in Kathmandu

Nepal was uneventful-- one of my favorite words now! I spent my days writing in cafes, writing on rooftops and wandering around. I have to say, I highly recommend Kathmandu. The people were great-- I was only bothered a bit (once by men holding hands, which is just a thing friends do here but threw me off.) English is surprisingly well spoken and it's insanely cheap. For a complete breakfast with tea I would pay on average $3.
One of my favorite experiences was visiting a monetary-- I even got to sit in on a class. When the teacher, a monk, came in everyone stood and bowed. There were a few things going on, more kneeling, then standing then some thing with the hands. I tried to follow and hoped I wasn't insulting someone in some way. Then there was chanting. I sort of felt like I was at foreign language catholic mass for the first time never knowing when to stand, sit or kneel. However, other than that I don't really have many stories... unless you want to read about my harrowing experience filling out the same form for five hours because my internet kept dropping off. (A thrilling read to be sure.)

I do, however, have pictures:




















The street outside my guest house.

Some Taiwanese Memories

These adorable Taiwanese students spend their nights having to learn English. I spent my night teaching them while wearing really stunning footwear. When I first walked up to the school all of the students were standing outside and said, "Welcome to our school." Each of them then had to introduce themselves to me in English. When the teacher tried to urge her toddler niece to do so, she started crying, and (in Chinese) screamed that she was scared of the "ghost." I'm in need of a tan, or something.

 Traditional indigo dying. It smells absolutely terrible. However the results really are beautiful.

 The Skybridge. (Un-pictured: The largest spider I've ever seen in my life)

A gorgeous rice field. This was the day I went to a cultural village. I went to a pottery factory, went on a tour of the facilities, then made pottery. I managed to get clay all over myself. Then, on my bike ride to the rice field I went through the thickest cloud of soot I had ever seen. Good thing I went straight to a dinner afterwards. I was a mess, but a very happy one.

This is a pineapple wearing a hat. Umbrellas, hats, sunscreen and even veils are used by Taiwanese women to make sure their skin is protected from the sun. (My favorite is the raincoat + visor combination.) Their fruit gets the same treatment. Each city in Taiwan has to have a certain number of "products." Two of the most common are tea and pineapple cakes. 

I didn't want to get in trouble with the teacher for disturbing class, so I took a early morning picture. The girl pictured in front was my host. She was so adorable. I brought her and her family a few gifts and in return got more gifts and a pile of food that could have kept me alive for weeks. The first night she took me to meet all of her family and each one asked for a picture with me. On subsequent nights we did a variety of things. She showed me one of her assignments for English class-- a hour long movie about a boy who had four girlfriends and their subsequent revenge. It featured a really well executed choreographed hip hop dance number along with lines such as, "Sorry I can't abide your childish behavior" and "All of the girls are evil things." Another night we went to a night market. We played some games like archery, and a ring toss thing (at which I dominated.) As always, I got asked for many pictures but after one was given free chicken. That was just the type of thing that happened so frequently that I no longer considered it to be strange. 

In Taiwan I generally ate more than everyone else. This was because I was both really excited I could finally use chopsticks and I couldn't contribute to the conversation. Therefore, I'd eat. Then I'd get served more food, then I'd eat some more. Then after feeling rather sick, I'd try to convince the people feeding me to please not give me any more food, while also assuring them that I loved the food... because of guilt and politeness I gained weight. (But of the problems to have, this wasn't a big one.) My last night at the home I guess I had not eaten enough Chinese food to satisfy my host mother. Having woken up at 5 am, by the time she came into my room at 11 pm I had wet hair, was in pajamas, without contacts or glasses (mine had broken) and was fast asleep. She woke me up and told me to come downstairs (but in Chinese.) I dutifully went. Downstairs there was a mountain of Japanese food (all for me), and of course some relative who wanted to take a picture with me. I didn't eat enough... which considering there were 7 containers of sushi, was understandable.

In the morning-- tired, sick and questioning what everyone was going to do with pictures of me I went back to school. On my way to the school assembly I was told I was giving a speech... to all of the students, teachers and staff. Thank you Hamilton for having that go alright. The principle of the school gave me a towel, but he held it at a weird height so when I went to reach to accept it he put it around my neck, thus creating one heck of an awkward interaction. I sort of did a weird bow, shook his hand and then (wait for it) had our picture taken. If there's one thing this trip is teaching me it's how to better accept some things will just be awkward. 

My friend and I on the top of Taipei 101, one of the tallest buildings in the world. Unfortunately, it was cloudy when we went... so there wasn't the opportunity for pictures. This bamboo shaped icon was still amazing. The elevator that takes you up to the 89th floor takes all of 37 seconds.

Cliffs in the East. I would later whitewater raft down a nearby river to the pacific ocean (not exactly by choice.) For someone who doesn't like them, I went on a shocking number of boats in Taiwan. In order to get the rafts to go in the right direction, men in motorized rafts would ram our rafts. The problem was, they would actually go on top of the raft crushing the person on that side. Guess who was in prime location for this to happen to her every single time... and I didn't understand the warning if there was one, I would just suddenly have my face on the ground and a raft on my back. I now know how useless leadership skills are if you don't speak a common language.  I was the only person who knew how to swim, how to paddle or knew English. No one else seemed concerned about the fact that people were being thrown from boats while there were large boulders and cliffs all around us. In fact, for most of the time I was one of three paddling while the others started water fights with neighboring boats. The only part of the introduction that was in English was about how the rafting today was going to be "very, VERY dangerous due to Typhoon!"

I now have an idea of how I would act in a life or death situation, because that is what this felt like. It didn't help that after we were done, once we took showers, within two minutes all of the girls had gorgeous dry, shining straight hair while mine looked like a comfy home for birds. If I sound bitter it's probably because I still am at least a little bit.

However, I'd take a dragon boat any day. This one was fun-- plus I got to wear a cool hat.

This is for you Roddy. This is the center of the city of Chiayi (I believe.) Right in the middle is a baseball player surrounded by a fountain. Just giving you remodeling ideas.