Around Bangalore

I have been in Bngalore for the past few days.  Whenever I come to a new city I like to explore the tourist attractions, but also to try and get a feel for what daily life is for the locals.  I spent my first day at a local market.  I had heard the fish and meat part of it is incredible.  I ventured out in search of it and had my rickshaw drop me at the beginning of the market.  I didn’t know it was a Muslim dominated area, so it was me, with my blindingly white skin and t-shirt, amidst women in their black burkas bustling around doing daily errands.   I had been dropped in the clothing area and fought my way through narrow alleys filled with trash, motorcycles pushing their way through crowds, and puddles enveloping large portions of the street from the previous night’s rain.  The sun was blazing down, and I was overwhelmed after just ten minutes of walking.  I pressed on, determined to find the fish market.  After two hours of jumping over trash and puddles and weaving through narrow alleys with pushy vendors grabbing at me, I gave up on finding the fish market.  It was an experience, and even though I didn’t find what I was looking for, I had fun being pushed about with the locals as they carried on with their days.

I have been going out at night with Jeremy and his friends.  The bars in Bangalore are high-end and fancy, not what I expected.  We were out the other night and one of the girls started dancing to the music.  Immediately the others around her told her to stop.  I was curious, and was told that dancing is illegal in Bangalore.  Illegal!  Bars must close at 11:30 every night and dancing is strictly prohibited all over the city.  There had been a few incidents of girls being harassed at clubs for the way they were dressed and dancing.  Last night we were at a bar and this group of friends got up and started dancing, they were immediately told to stop.  It’s an interesting prohibition, and we laugh about it whenever we see someone swaying to the music or moving in any ay that resembles dancing, but I cant imagine living here and not being able to dance, anywhere.

I was sitting at a café the other day and heard chanting and yelling from down the road.  A few minutes later a huge group of protesters passed by the café on motorcycles, waving flags and chanting Hindi versions of “Hail Mother India” and “down with corruption.”  They are protesting against corruption and for Anna Hazare, an activist who went on a hunger strike until an anti-corruption bill is passed.  He was arrested and jailed, and followers all over India have been protesting.  Below is a video of the protest as it passed me on the street. 

I leave for Pondicherry on an overnight bus tonight.  I will be spending a few days by myself (hopefully near the beach!) before coming back to Jeremy for my last few days in Bangalore.   I fly out of Bangalore on the 25^th to Delhi, where I will spend a few days before my parents arrive! 

Ahh...Vacation

Someone pointed out to me the other day that it has been a while since I have updated this…I’m on vacation!  Now that I am at a hotel with Internet (luxurious!), I can get all caught up.  

I left Mussoorie on the 10^th and took an early train to Delhi.  It was quite an experience leaving Mussoorie at 2am.  I was expecting a nice quiet ride down from the mountains to the train, and what I got was anything but peaceful.  It was pouring rain, as always. We were driving through the main bazaar of Landour and suddenly there were cars blocking the way and people all over; an odd sight at 2am.  A man ran past yelling something about a fire, so we ran from the car towards the brightness in the sky.  As we rounded the corner we watched as flames enveloped the homes I walked past everyday.  We stood there staring at the flames, as men stood watching, helpless.  The roads are too narrow in Landour to get a fire truck through, and too steep to get a fire truck up the hills, something I never thought of.  Men were trying to throw buckets of water, but that and the pouring rain seemed somehow to be fueling the fire.  My driver instructed me back to the car, saying we would try the back roads made only for motorcycles.  We bumped our way down the back roads until we were beneath the fire.  Large pieces of burnt tin roof were blocking the road, and more were crashing down from above as we tried to pass through.  My driver kept running through the rain to move them, and eventually we made it by. I watched out the back window in awe as the flames got bigger and bigger, eating more houses.  I still have not heard what the damage was after all, or how long it took to put it out, but I know nothing good could come of what I saw.  No one knew if there were any people inside. 

I spent one night in Delhi before moving on to Bangalore in South India to visit my friend Jeremy.  He is here for a few months working with a social entrepreneurship company called Ashoka.  We traveled last weekend to Hampi for a long weekend.  It is a World Heritage Site town known for its temple ruins.  We stayed across the river from Hampi in Viru, where small straw huts serve as guesthouses along the green rice paddies and palm trees.  It was a relaxing trip.  We rented motorcycles the first day and toured around the area stopping at temples and enjoying the gorgeous scenery.   We spent the last day on the other side, rented bikes again and went to all the famous tourist/ruin sites.  It was blazing hot and I was enjoying the sun so much (it felt as though it had been three months since I had seen sunlight, oh wait…it was!) that I didn’t realize we were both getting absolutely terrible sunburns.  It was India’s Independence Day, so people were all over the streets with painted faces waving flags.  Driving through the main bazaar in the afternoon on a bike was a terrible idea, it took forever to get through the crowds of people, and I was grabbed at on more than one occasion.  We took an overnight sleeper bus back to Bangalore and I will be spending a few days here exploring before heading on a weekend trip; I am not sure where yet. 

Bangalore is a very Western city. I am in an area surrounded by Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren, Levi, and Apple stores.  It’s interesting to compare this city to the other large ones I have been in.  My Indian clothes are certainly not appropriate here! Bangalore is known to be the business capital of India, so there are many foreigners here living and working as well.  

 Rice paddies and palm trees, what a vacation!

 Walking through the banana trees to get to the famous "Under the Mango Tree" restaurant

Our last sunset, we decided to hike down to the river and sit on the rocks before getting on the overnight bus

I have more photos from Hampi on facebook, check out this link: Hampi Photos

Last Days in Mussoorie

Tomorrow is my last day of Hindi classes.  I have to admit, I am ready to be done here and move on.  Hindi has gotten so frustratingly difficult, but I have officially finished the textbook.  I’m pleased that I progressed as far as I did, but the past few chapters are still a little foggy.  I find I am able to converse without thinking about it in my head before speaking, but I still find situations where I just cannot say anything.  For example, I was bargaining for a taxi the other day with one of my friends.  We wanted to go to this Himalayan Weavers shop that is about 9 kilometers away.  We knew the cab should only be around 300 rupees; the first driver we approached told us 500.  We continued walking to another driver down the road, and the first guy followed us, yelling behind is in Hindi that he already told us 500, and that no one should take us for less than that.  We gave up on the independent drivers and went to the taxi company window.  The man continued following us, yelling that he told us 500 rupees, and if any other driver wanted 500 they should just tell the foreigners (us) that that is the price.  I bargained as much as I could in Hindi, (as my friend speaks no Hindi at all) but they just kept saying 500; the first driver we spoke to kept yelling that the foreigners would eventually give in.  Finally, frustrated and angry because I could not get my point across, I turned to the first driver and screamed in English that I could understand his Hindi.  All the men laughed (probably more so at my frustration than the fact that I made the man a fool), and we got a driver for 400.  Not what we hoped, but the man sulked away leaving us alone, and we happily took our ride to the shop.  I wish I could have whipped out some nasty words and told him off but in my frustration I couldn’t even remember any of the slang I had been taught by my Indian friends, or any Hindi for that matter.  I still have a long way to go until I’m fluent, but I am quite happy with the progress I have made here.  I will have a few days to relax and just take my private lessons before continuing on to Delhi, Bangalore, and Goa. 

I am one of the few foreigners up here who wears Indian clothes.  Everyone else has seemingly brought their entire Western wardrobes with them.  They all find it surprising when I tell them I only came with a backpack.  I am visiting a friend in Bangalore, and he said something along the lines of “I know you, and I know how much you travel with; I can tell you right now you will probably feel uncomfortable in Bangalore in your Indian clothes.  Everyone dresses like they’re in NYC.”  So, I have spent the past few days shopping for Western-type clothes in the bazaar.  Who would have thought…. I’m just glad I decided to bring a pair of jeans at the last minute.       

  

I have only about a week left here.  This is my last week of classes; I leave next Thursday for Delhi and Bangalore.  I have picked up private Hindi lessons with my tailor’s daughter, they have been going well and really helped my conversation because she tells me what people actually say versus what is written in my textbook. 

This past Sunday was a Hindu holiday.  The god Shiva’s wedding anniversary was on Saturday, so the temple in Landour had a celebration on Sunday.  Some of us decided to go.  It was a huge feast. We all sat on the floor cross-legged on these long narrow carpets while volunteers came and slopped food on our plates.  It felt like I was at the Golden Temple, just on a much smaller scale, and of course here they weren’t used to seeing foreigners.  I was happy that I went with two Indian friends, so I didn’t feel too out of place.  People of all religions are welcome; the food is prepared by volunteers and served by them as well. In fact, one of the girls I was with is Hindu and wanted to help after we ate so we waited for her in the sweet shop around the corner while she served rice for a while.  The food was great and it was a nice way to spend my Sunday. I had forgotten how hard it is to eat soupy dhal and rice with my fingers…   

The weather has been exceptionally wonderful.  I have seen sunshine for the past two days.  It doesn’t last long before the clouds and fog roll back in, but it’s nice nonetheless.  I’m hoping the truly heavy rains will continue to hold off until I am out of here on the 11^th. Wishful thinking I’m afraid.  

Sun? In Mussoorie?

It has surprisingly been good weather here lately.  It has only truly been pouring during the nights.  I woke up at 4am yesterday to pounding rain on my tin roof.  I fell back asleep praying it would stop by the time I had to wake up at 6:30…it did. It has been a foggy but almost rain free week.  It makes me so much happier to be able to walk in the market, sit outside, and enjoy the mountains while I still can.   However, all the locals say it will start to get really, really, bad once August hits.  I am hoping to get out of here mid way through August. 

I have had 8 AM classes for the past 2 weeks.  It has been miserable.  My first four weeks here I didn’t have classes until the afternoon, so it has been an adjustment waking up early.  I wake up early enough to have breakfast and chai at char dukan, half way up to school, before finishing the half hour walk.  The shops are just opening when I arrive, and the owners (who live above their shops with their families) are preparing for the day.  The grandmother who lives at the one shop I always go to is always coming back from the temple and cleaning herself up as I wait for my chai.  The first few days she walked past me with a bucket of yellow liquid and I never really noticed.  She just dumps it over the bridge down the mountain.  It wasn’t until I actually thought about it that I realized, as I was just waking up and waiting for my chai, this old woman was wafting her giant pee bucket right past me.  I can’t wait for next week; I requested afternoon classes again.    

There is no municipality up here, so no one collects garbage.  There are some cans around the mountain that we were instructed to put our trash from our rooms in.  So, once a week or so I carry my little bag to one of the cans.  It wasn’t until a few days ago that I realized the cans are simply emptied down the mountain behind the can.  I watch in the mornings as men sweep the roads (where people just throw their trash) and dump it over the side of the mountain.  It’s appalling; the bridge near char dukan has an enormous mountain of trash under it.  I can only imagine what this place will look like in fifteen years with trash piling up everywhere.  The amount of plastic bottles is atrocious; the way people litter is horrible, and the fact that no one really seems to care is the worst part.  We have a compost pile at our house, but for the most part I have tried to minimize any other waste. 

Classes are going well, as always.  I can see myself burning out a bit as we get into much harder material.  I am excited though, because my friends turn to me in the bazaar when they don’t understand, and I am happy that I can have conversations with locals and actually fully understand what they are saying.  Just a few more weeks left in Mussoorie, hopefully the sun continues to shine! 

Tehri Dam

I went to Tehri Dam yesterday, one of the worlds highest dams.  I knew there was not going to be much to see there, but I had read about it back when my Honors Project was going to be about rivers, so I felt that being so close I just had to see it in person. 

It is about 2.5 hours away, and once we finally got there we couldn’t get “permission” to get onto the actual dam and get in.  We weren’t sure why, and our driver told us that they weren’t letting Indians in either, probably something to do with the recent Mumbai attacks.  So we had to view it from afar, which ended up being fine.  I just wanted to see it. I took some great photos as well.  We ended up driving around a bit to get some different views.  We stopped for chai when we first got there and talked with this shopkeeper who pulled out a book that he had pasted a bunch of photos and postcards in.  There were before and after pictures of Tehri.  It was so sad to see it; they dam had caused the relocation of over 90 villages, which translates to hundreds of thousands of people.  They were moved to “New Tehri” which he motioned was up the mountain a bit further.  Apparently when the water was clearer a few years ago you could still see bits of the city underneath the water.  One of my teachers also told me that the clock-tower from Tehri used to be visible from above through the water.  It made me sad to look at it, but it was hard not to be amazed at the magnitude of one of the world’s highest dams. 

On the way home we stopped at a famous Hindu temple, it was a 3 km hike up to it, and it was straight up, but we did it anyways.  We hadn’t eaten anything and it was raining, but it was a nice hike up and the temple at the top was not much, but still beautiful. We went from there to an Eco Park, which was again nothing special, just some trees with signs and postings encouraging everyone to love Mother Earth.

It was a relief to get out of Mussoorie, if only for a day.  I have been here for almost 5 weeks and have yet to take a weekend trip or anything, while all my friends are traveling all over.  There are going to places like Jaipur, Amritsar, and Manali.  All places I have been, and all places I will be going in a few weeks. So for now I am sticking to day trips, which are nice.  Only a few more weeks here before I am (as of now) off to Bangalore.  Internet still too slow to more pictures up...

I have now been here a month.  Classes are going well, mentally exhausting, but my Hindi is improving more than I had though it would.  I am now much more confident to speak with the locals than I have ever been.  It is great having other international students around as well.  I run into a Korean woman who has class before me as we are switching rooms every morning.  She speaks no English, and of course I do not speak Korean, so we converse in the only language we have in common, Hindi.  It is so fascinating to me that two people, from two very different lives are brought together by a common interest.  I think its great that we can speak to each other, and it helps us both practice our Hindi as well!   

I am sure most of you have read about the happenings in Mumbai. The most recent attack was the fourteenth big blast in the past eighteen years.  Before it, the most recent was 26/11/08.  This time, instead of hotels and Western frequented places, the blasts came from a motorcycle and a tiffin box (lunch box).   Mumbai’s vulnerability makes it an easy target, it is roughly a third the size of Delhi, but has 29,000 people per square kilometer, compared to Delhi’s 4,000 people per square kilometer.   I have read numerous accounts from newspapers and magazines, recounting the events of 13/7/11.  Each one asks the same question: “Why again Mumbai, why?” Mumbai’s citizens are “tired of living in fear,” as one citizen was quoted in India Today, and sick of the danger involved in living their everyday lives.  Even this high up in Mussoorie, locals are sick of hearing the horrific accounts of what happens in their country.  It’s sad that in a country so vibrant and full of life, religion, and culture, people live their daily lives in fear of when and where the next blast will be. 

I was planning a trip to Mumbai for mid August, but I think I will skip over and head straight to the South.  I am sure I would have been fine, now that almost all the bigger cities are on high alert, but I am going to play it safe.  I was selfishly happy to have been up here, tucked safe away in the mountains when all the commotion happened.  I am hoping to spend some time in Bangalore before my parents get here.  I want to visit some spice and tea plantations and relax a bit in a drier place after I finish the Hindi textbook. It will be my reward for completing the entire course in just two months.   For now, my daily life consists of nothing special.  My days are filled with school, walking in the bazaar, and hanging out with my other foreign friends and locals.  

Time for an "Out of India" Experience

The monsoon has officially started.   The rain on Friday poured down harder than I have experienced in my entire life.  I had to walk to the bazaar to pick up things for a dinner party on Friday night.  I waited as long as I could for the rain to stop, but it didn’t, so I ventured out in my rainboots, umbrella and raincoat.  I was soaked after five minutes.  The rain was beating down so hard it was coming through the top of my umbrella.  I ran from shop to shop and got what I needed, and spent an hour sitting and talking with my tailor waiting for it to slow a bit.  It didn’t, so I began the half hour walk back up the mountain.  The roads are so steep that the rain was flowing down with the force of a river.  I struggled to stay standing as I forged the flowing water, but the water was so high it filled my boots and felt as though I was walking through a waterfall.  I couldn’t help but remember last summer in Rajasthan; every time it rained I ran into the streets with joy letting the water soak me from head to toe and cool me off.  This time, I couldn’t wait to get home and dry off.

I changed my clothes and headed up for school.   When I got there, I was not on the schedule for next week.  There had been a mistake and therefore I hadn’t gotten the times or teachers I requested for the coming week.  After arguing with the principal, who was trying to fit me in to some classes, I ended up with a random bunch of teachers and the worst times.  I have two in the morning, one mid-day, and one in the afternoon.  It was a frustrating day, and only got worse when I arrived back home to see that my roof was leaking and water was pouring in through my door, which doesn’t close all the way. 

The rain finally stopped and it was the clearest it has been in the four weeks I have been in Landour.  For the first time I could see far enough to see the snow-capped mountains.  It was a nice treat after a terrible day!

After my day on Friday I decided I needed a break over the weekend. A bunch of us from the school decided to go down the mountain to Dehradun and see Harry Potter.  We took a taxi down the hairpin turns that make everyone car sick, and two hours later were back to the blazing heat of Indian summers.  I missed the mountains the minute we hit the heat! There was AC (thank god!) and it was a pretty nice theatre.  The movie was in 3D, and the quality was terrible, it was dizzying to watch the 3D, and the only seats we could get were in the 4^th row, which didn’t help.  Indian movies have intermissions, so it was nice to be able to take the glasses off for a bit! People were answering their phones and talking throughout the entire movie, but the seats in the theatre were reclining, and much better than the ones we have in Rochester.  It was a great break from the mountains, and worth the treacherous trip down for a relaxing afternoon and a taste of American culture.   

The rain hasn’t stopped today, and there has been no electricity all day.  It has forced me to do some homework.  Back to the grind next week. 

A Curryous Taste

I haven’t been up to too much, just going to school in the afternoons/evenings and walking in the bazaar (when I don’t have too much homework) in the mornings.  

Not having a kitchen in my guesthouse has proven to be more difficult than I anticipated, as there are not many choices around here, but I have been managing and meeting my friends who either have kitchens or are at guesthouses with restaurants for dinner.  One of my recent dinners was at a new restaurant and guesthouse that is exquisitely painted in bright Tibetan designs.  A few people I go to school with are staying there and it is just a ten-minute walk down from where I live so I met them for dinner one night last week.  I ordered a coconut curry with noodles and peanuts and was enjoying it very much when I got a not so pleasant bite.  It was sandy, and kind of popped in my mouth when I bit into it.  I did my best to hide my shock, but all I could think was that it was some sort of bug, a cockroach or beetle or something.  The friends I was with have a small 4-year old boy that they were in the middle of teaching table manners to, so I didn’t want to spit it out in the middle of their lesson.  I took a huge sip of water and did my best to swallow it, but the grit was stuck in my teeth and I couldn’t get rid of what felt like tiny little legs floating around my mouth.  I looked in the bowl, but saw nothing else.  By this point the family had noticed my surprise, and I just decided I couldn’t eat anymore. 

After that fiasco, I decided it was time to treat myself to a nice dinner.  There is a place called Rokeby just up the mountain from where I live.  It’s an absolutely beautiful guesthouse, salon, and restaurant that is known for its amazing (and expensive) Western and Indian food.   I heard rumor of mashed potatoes, lasagna, nachos and chocolate cake.  Ten of us got together for dinner last night and went to Rokeby (Google Rokeby Mussoorie and I am sure their website will come up).  I shared a hummus and pita appetizer with Lisa (the French girl that lives in the guesthouse with me), and had chicken tortellini for dinner.  We split chocolate cake for dessert.  It felt as though I was no longer in the Himalayas, but the pounding rain outside the windows forced us to scream to each other and brought us back to reality.  It was an amazing dinner and place, and I certainly shouldn’t get used to it! The entire dinner cost us less than ten dollars each, but I usually get dinner for a little over one dollar each night.  It was certainly a nice treat though. 

I have spent most of the weekend doing homework; it has been raining so it forced me to get it all done.  The sun came out for a little bit yesterday, so I walked in the bazaar, but the rain came pounding back around dinner time and hasn’t stopped since.  Thank god we bought a heater to dry our clothes.  Everything is starting to smell and get moldy.  And it will only get worse as the days go by…