Agra-vation and Awe

They say opposites attract— the most beautiful building I have ever seen happens to also be in the worst city I have ever seen. I’ll spare you the details of mom, Paulette and I walking through the wet, dirty and miserable streets, mom almost punching a few men (that’s not an exaggeration) and me losing it at two different rickshaw drivers. Let’s just say that I was annoyed enough that when we were given a complementary governmental tour guide for the Taj, I told the man, “Please let us just have an hour where an Indian man doesn’t follow us.”

The Taj Mahal is all it’s said to be. It’s astoundingly beautiful, and even though it was a gloomy day in a horrid city, it made Agra almost worth it. Seeing it was only topped by seeing mom see it.

Santa ji Brings Mama ji

Santa was a little late to India (without road signs it's confusing), but he brought the best gift ever. When I thought I had lost her at the airport at 4 am I got a taste of my own medicine—how did I let my mom come alone to India?

I'll Be Home For Christmas (If Only In My Dreams)

I’ll Be Home For Christmas (But Only In My Dreams)

In recent days Bing has really been speaking (or rather singing) to me. That man has a voice like chocolate or a hug. However, we’ve reached an impasse. He tells me to “please have snow and mistletoe and presents under the tree.” Since I’m in the desert, and haven’t seen a cloud in over 40 days, I’m going to let him down in the snow department. I also have no clue what mistletoe even looks like, so that leaves the tree.

I have fond memories of going to the Christmas tree farm growing up. We had a pole that was used only once a year that was the exact height of our ceiling. After wandering around the farm and finding the perfect tree with proper density (full), width (very wide), and height (stick height) we’d drink hot chocolate while we drove home.

That’s not quite how it worked here. The one Christian we knew here kept promising to take us, yet in true form canceled about 5 or 6 times. So we took matters into our own hands... one night at about 6 pm. Pulling up to the tree nursery on the outside of the city, it looked a bit as if we were going to an abandoned haunted house. We saw the tiny trees behind a chain linked fence but couldn’t find the door until embarrassingly we were shown by a man wondering why the two of us were there at 7 pm at night. The man seemed hell bent on selling us a small bush instead of a tree. Maybe he was listening to Bing too, and that plant was mistletoe... but I doubt it. We were hoping for a reasonably sized tree, but they just don’t grow them like that here. The weirdest part was that all of the trees only had branches at the top—the rest had been pulled off. As we watched the worker do this to a tree we tried to explain to him we wanted a full tree. He told us they would grow back next year. We were about to be just disappointed when I spotted a tree in the very back. After climbing through the branches, I found our tree. He told me 700, I gave him 500 and was handed the tree. We put our earrings on it and bought the dangles women wear on their fancy dresses. I even found lights (they only work if one plug is in and the other is half out… but at least I figured that out.)

And so, I present to you- our tree.

Though it took a long time, we finally transplanted him. Yet another random life skill my parents taught me that has come in handy.

I have used my bedtime to make a few more decorations. This is what I made with fabric, a glue stick, scissors and string.

There's a few more of the ones you see on the upmost left corner, and a "Merry Christmas" behind me.

I lived a rather magical childhood, and some things I’m just not willing to give up. I still firmly believe in Santa... even though he’ll need a bit of help this year. (Rajasthani reindeer are in short supply.) My friends here now know about the “magical man who comes on a 'dear ride' into the house via a hole in the roof with gifts he puts in socks by a fire." I used a sewing kit my brilliant sister gave me and shopping bags to make the stockings. I was told that I “must have been a tailor in my past life” which I take as an utmost compliment.

I might not be here this Christmas...

But in my own way, I'll still be "home."

Like I'm Living an In-dian Dream

Living in India is like living in a post-grad’s daydream.

There's countless interesting and exotic things to see and experience. Like zipping around traffic on the back of a motorbike. 

I get to eat and cook delicious food. I can now identify a few of the common vegetables in Hindi.

I have a feeling of being special here. What person doesn't want that, at least a little? 

I feel like I'm leading an exciting life of adventure. Everything is so new and different.

I get to wear inexpensive, and forgiving yet beautiful and comfortable clothing.

Plus, I cannot tell you how amazing desert air is for wavy, normally frizzy hair. Everyday is a good hair day.

Yet, living in India is also like living in a teenager's nightmare...

Here are the Top 10 Most Common Nightmares (according to health.howstuffworks.com) and How They’re Like Real Life In India (according to me)

10. Feeling Trapped or Lost

This is traffic in Jaipur.

Source: Art.com

Source: mattwitts.blogspot.com

As if I wasn’t already feeling metaphorically lost in this culture…

It tells you something when I legitimately didn’t realize for over a day that they drive on the opposite side of the road.

9. Falling or Drowning

Falling: In my household whenever I trip or fall down I’m told “I’m beautiful.” It’s become so engrained that whenever I trip dodging a cow, or fall in a two foot wide hole that’s randomly now in the street, my mother’s voice pops into my head.

Drowning: This is my shower… therefore to clean myself I have to hold my breath pour that small bucket over my head repeatedly. Enough said.

8. Machine or Phone Malfunction

This is two part. The language barrier is only exacerbated by texting. Even when I figure out what someone has said, I then have to figure out if they mean it to be that creepy or not. I could write a book about “weird things texted and said to me on the phone and internet in India.”

Phone/internet malfunctions are just part of life. The super slow Internet will frequently go off for days at a time…which means I have yet to be able to skype my simply adorable new nephew. However, waiting until my signal is strong enough to download a picture in 20 minutes is made worth it by getting this:

Text messages can also be delayed for long periods of time leading to conversations like this:

Via text message:

Friend: What does “extremely bothered” mean?

Me (delayed for about a day): Very upset.

Via phone call a few days later:

Friend: Are you okay?

Me: Yes.

Friend: Why are you upset?

Me: I’m not upset.

Friend: Are you sure?

Me: Yes

Friend: But you told me you were upset.

Me: No I didn’t.

(It took me 5 minutes before I figured out what happened, and then 3 times as long to try and explain it to my friend.)

7. Being Naked or Inappropriately Dressed in Public

Indian modesty still confuses me. Showing your entire stomach? Fine. Showing your ankles or neck? Hey now.

I went dressed like this to day one of an Indian wedding (more on that later):

I was asked multiple versions of, “Do you not like Indian dress?”
Ma'am this is not my everyday attire back home.

6. Natural or Manmade Disasters

Does an incredible amount of (sometimes feral) stray animals count as a natural disaster?

Does an overwhelming amount of trash piled everywhere count as a manmade disaster?

5. Poor Test Performance

When I manage to get a response from a school, an educator, or someone else I wish to speak with, it’s a dream come true. Unfortunately, a vast majority of these end with me:

1.     never hearing from again “…”

2.     me waiting around for an hour or two before deciding they’re just not going to show up “Buzzy now, 2mrrw wek?”

3.     having it take a creepy turn (Via email) "You're beautiful...are you married?"

Poor response time, poor follow through, incredible amounts of missed appointments and a weird expectation that if I want to talk to you about arts education, I’m also interested in marriage, make me frequently feel like I’m not accomplishing what I wish to do on my Bristol.

4. House or Property Loss or Damage

My house is in a safe neighborhood, has massive locks on all the doors, a gate, and bars on all the windows. We also know all our neighbors.

Last week one of my friends (who does not have these advantages) had a man climb into her second story window. While she was sleeping she had her macbook, phone, charger and money stolen. Another one of my friends recently was sent home by her embassy after police had to rescue her after she was locked inside her house.

3.Car Trouble

Traveling into town can take anywhere from 20 minutes to 1.5 hours. I spent two hours on a bus to go a few blocks (once it took a turn and I got lost on the maze of streets and had to wait until I recognized something again.) My preferred method of transportation is tuktuk. Here are the steps to riding a tuktuk.

1.     Flag one down.

2.     Try to communicate where you’re going. (If they’re really not getting it, call a Hindi speaking friend.)

3.     If step 2 takes too long (~1 minute) you’ll get a crowd of about 3 or up to 10 men who will do their best to sort of help. Emphasis on the “sort of.”

4.     “Kit-na” or “how much.”

5.     Act shocked (whether or not you really are)

6.     Walk away.

7.     (optional) get really angry over their price

8.     (also optional) realize you’re getting incredibly angry over 40 cents

9.     Repeat until one follows you and agrees to a more reasonable price.

2. Suffering an Injury, Illness or Death

I don’t think I need to explain this one-- India’s reputation speaks for itself. For further reading, please refer to my post about my trip to the hospital, “Under Observation.”

1. Being Chased or Attacked

I would be lying if I said this wasn’t a concern. When two dogs chased a motorbike I was on yesterday, in my panic, I accidentally punched the driver in the back (what can I say, I have fantastic instincts.) For safety, I keep my eyes down, don’t smile and cover up as much as I can. I rarely leave the house alone, and always have a companion at night.

You know that dream where you feel like everyone is staring at you? It’s not a dream here, everyone really is—in traffic, on the street, everywhere. Eyes frequently “chase me.” People also frequently try to interact with me. Sometimes this is lovely. Whenever I walk in the neighborhood I’ll get about 10-20 small children calling out a faint, high-pitched “hello!” from the rooftop. This is always followed by uncontrollable giggles. The downside is when someone says hello and acts really friendly I have about 2 seconds to look at them and realize if I’ve met them before or not. If I guess wrong I’m either about to really insult an acquaintance or inadvertently tell a stranger “yes, please follow me because I think we’re soul mates” by smiling.

I’ve been lucky. The worst “attack” I’ve faced is an “attack on my heart.” Having hoards of small and impoverished children occasionally follow me. I will take catcalls and men inappropriately touching me any day over that.

"Under Observation"

Over the past few days my body decided to become strictly hydrophobic and try to rid itself of every drop of liquid it could. Paulette, my housemate, told me we were going to the hospital. One of our friends, Vijay, left work to take me. The first hospital didn’t have a doctor but we quickly found another.

We walked into an empty, dimly lit hallway containing only a podium with the sign “reception.” A man walking past speaking hindi ushered all of us into an adjoining tiny room. It was full of people. I sat on a little stool next to the doctor, two female nurses, three male nursing students, three random middle aged men (I’m guessing the doctor’s friends), Paulette and Vijay. We didn’t actually fit. The doctor asked me (well asked Vijay) what was happening and I announced it to the room. After a quick examination on a small stained table I was taken upstairs to a room of beds with my small parade of random people. I was put in a small “room” made of little barriers in the corner. While everyone watched I got my IV through my hand, and started the process of feeling human again.

Paulette and Vijay stayed for over an hour, and then went to get lunch. While they were gone a male nurse sat about a foot away from my bed…just staring at me. He spoke no English so I couldn’t talk to him. We just sort of looked at each other, and then I’d look at the ceiling then back at him between trips to the bathroom and him checking my IV. Soon, I got two more nurses staring at me to keep him company. They just looked at me. I got annoyed at one of them when I thought he took a picture of me on his phone, but due to the language barrier and me feeling simply awful I wasn’t in full fighting spirits. Camera phones are quickly becoming my least favorite thing.

Occasionally I would have a random additional man or two just stand in the doorway and stare at me. I’m still not used to people continuing to stare once I look at them. By the time I got a shot (luckily given by a female nurse) I wasn’t even phased by the crowd once I learned the location of the injection. My little army of two visitors was trumped by the man behind me who had 9 all sitting on bed.

After six hours of this I just wanted to go home, but was told I needed to stay overnight due to an infection and severe dehydration. The worst part was thinking of a hilarious joke and having no native English speakers to appreciate it (see the title of this post.)

At about 9 pm the nursing staff changed and I got three new men staring at me. These nurses talked in English, yet not good enough English to understand my joke. (I tried.) Things got creepy fast. I was asked if I was married. I told them no, I wasn’t. Then after a while I was asked repeatedly if I thought indian men were beautiful. Over and over again while one of them lay on the other bed next to mine. For the next twenty minutes one of the guys kept rambling that he “wanted an American girl” and would “look after me all night.” Then he’d say something to his friend in Hindi and laugh. There was lots of sort of handholding with my IV...

Paulette and Vijay came back a half hour later and when I told them what had happened they swooped into action. The doctor was called back to the hospital, I told him what had happened and that I wanted to go home. He brought his staff in. Then he took Vijay and his staff away for about 45 minutes to “discuss it” and “discuss me.” Vijay finally came back and told me what was wrong with me (because lord knows I couldn’t be told!) and that the staff would be fired. I honestly doubt they will be. But, in my mind, they are. I’m so incredibly thankful to have had the support of my friends here.

The whole experience cost me $56… and from now on, if anyone asks, I’m married.