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The main ghat

Assi ghat at sunrise

Well, I'm done. I'm finally home back in the United States after 38 hours of traveling! It's weird to be back here, and even weirder to be experiencing this feeling alone. Last time I had the support of the entire group, another 15 students who knew exactly how I was feeling coming back to the US. The reverse culture shock is an interesting concept. I'm not "shocked" by much, or intensely bothered by the materialism, it's just weird to not be in India anymore. A place I've called home for so long is no longer my home, and I left with a wonder of when or if I'd ever be back there.

I sat with Jeremy on the roof of our hotel after watching the sunrise on our last morning in Varanasi. He asked me what I would change if I could go back and do the summer over again, if I had any regrets. I sat silent, thinking for a few minutes and reflecting on my summer. I had wanted to go to the mountains, and I did. I wanted to make it to Varanasi, and I did. I wanted to make a difference at the school, and I hope I did. I wanted to truly immerse myself in the village and attempt to live "village India" like a true villager, and I did my best. I wanted to eat as many of those juicy Indian mangoes as I could, and I certainly devoured a lot of them. I wanted to meet people, make new relationships and connections while still fostering the ones I had from last time. Having the opportunity to travel after my internship allowed this. I had no real regrets. Maybe I wished I had more time to take a Hindi course, but there aren't enough days in the summer for that. And sure, while I wish I could travel the entire country and see every city, I had to be realistic. I told him I was quite happy with how this summer went, I couldn't be more pleased and thankful for the opportunity to have this experience. Not many students my age can say they've have abroad experiences like this, twice. Even if that's the last time I'll be in India for twenty years, words can't express how thankful I am to have been able to do this.

While I know I'll adjust to being back here in the US and my constant thoughts of India every second will fade, the memories I have and the lessons I learned will always be with me. I have a newfound sense of independence and confidence and a desire to simply learn and explore. I came back with an entire duffel bag full of books (no, I'm not kidding, I had to explain to airport security that I'm not a distributor, just a nerd!) and I can't wait to keep learning about my second home: its challenges, future, people and culture. No matter how long it is until I return to India, I know my passion for Her will never die. While I'm sad its over, I am so thankful for this opportunity.

It's true what they say about every Indian state seemingly being its own country. I landed in Tamil Nadu and encountered yet another language, another traditional dance, another cuisine, and another culture vastly different from the Rajasthani and Keralan cultures I had previously been exposed to this trip. Tamil Nadu is the richest of all the Indian states, and the most independent. I noticed both of these things immediately. The roads are impeccable; perfectly paved and clean, with murals depicting traditional Tamil culture on the walls surrounding the streets. Hindi is strictly rejected; in fact, when I accidentally spoke it to someone I was given a dirty look and ignored until I spoke in English, which they understood and spoke quite well. English and Tamil are taught in schools, but the national language of Hindi is not. I visited a temple, and for the first time in South India I was allowed inside; however being non-Hindu, was still prohibited from entering the sanctum sanctorum, the inner-most part of the temple where the deity lies. The idols looked much different here, almost character-like and were carved with intricate designs. I realized I missed being in temples like this, as we frequented them often last semester. It was a heartening feeling. We visited the tomb of St. Thomas after that, and were surprised to see (when we could finally make our way to the altar after mass ended and the two-hundred people evacuated) a large statue of Jesus at the front of the church standing on a lotus flower and surrounded by peacocks- traditional Hindu icons. The blend of religions, one woman told us, used to be quite inspiring; however, with recent years the acceptance of other religions has dwindled all over the country.

I am in Varanasi now, in the state of Uttar Pradesh towards the North-east of the country. Varanasi is the holiest city and many Hindus come here to die so their ashes can be spread in the Ganga. We visited here last year and it was by far my favorite city. There's something about the river and the atmosphere of the entire city that intrigues me. For some reason, I feel a connection to this city and knew I needed to return here before I went home again. The water level of the river is much higher than it was last time we were here, so high that it prevents us from walking along the ghats like we used to. I worked with an NGO, the Sankat Mochan Foundation, last time we were here. They are located right on the banks of the river (like our guesthouse) and they work to inform the public of the polluting practices on the Ganga and strive to implement environmentally-friendly technologies to divert and treat the wastewater that flows freely into the holy river. They bring school-children on boats to the polluted areas to show them what is happening, hoping to educate the young so polluting practices (like defecating, washing and littering) don't continue in later years. I will be working with them again during the six days we are here, as well as continuing my daily practice from last time of going to the ghats every morning at 5am (when they are the busiest) to participate in the worship and bathe in the river with the pilgrims. It seems to be the best way for me to really get a grip on what is happening during the worship and what the opinions and beliefs of the people are in terms of the horrendously polluted river, but the immensely holy goddess that lies within. It is interesting to note that Varanasi, being the holiest city, is also the dirtiest I have ever been in. Cows roam the narrow streets, leaving their droppings everywhere and creating traffic jams for miles. Garbage litters the roadsides and gutters making a border for anyone wishing to cross, and the flies, oh the flies. They are everywhere, relentless in landing anywhere they possibly can, and they never go away. I have never seen more flies in any place or city in my entire life. It's as if there is as much dirt as there are flies. I have always experienced India through my nose, the strongest of my senses. The occasional whiff of garbage is common to the other places I have been, but the constant lingering of the scents of stale food and excrement, along with the pollution in the air and the wafting of incense from shops creates an interesting mix. But, for some reason I love it here; I feel like it's the “real India,” far from the more Western cities of Mumbai and Delhi. So, I have six days left here before heading back to the states and plan to make the best of them, as this is the city I feel most at home in.

I made it to Mumbai after rain delays to find a city very different from what I was used to. I had been told by many people that the slums of Mumbai are unlike any other. I didn't believe them; I've seen the slums in Delhi, the homeless people lining the streets in Jaipur and the poverty of the villages, but I never, ever expected to see what I did in Mumbai. If you've seen Slumdog Millionaire, it's worse. I flew in over the tops of them and could see nothing but blue tarps for miles. Dharavi is a 550 acre slum, one of India's largest. It's a maze of dilapidated shacks and iron-corrugated roofs amidst narrow alley ways that is home to over a million people, an average of 15,000 sharing a single toilet. While seeing them brought tears to my eyes, I learned that this isn't an ordinary slum; they employ over half a million people in around 15,000 small one-room factories, turning over around 1.4 billion US dollars a year! They are based on waste recycling, residents scavenge garbage piles for bits of old soap, plastic bottles and bags, oil drums etc. and re-model and mold them into something new to sell. However, the government is now in the process of displacing them, offering them an apartment space in order to complete the radical makeover of Mumbai. We'll see how that works.... It was pouring rain when I arrived. Absolutely pouring, the kind where you can't see two feet in front of you in a car, thus making my 20km cab ride from the airport into over an hour and a half. But I finally met Jori and she showed me around the city she'd been living in for the past month. Many of the buildings are from the Portugese, as it was a Portugese colony, and the architecture reflects that. We were near a widely Catholic area and I saw more crosses than Ganesh's for the first time in India. We spent our two days there walking around and seeing the city.

We flew the next day to Kerala, our first time in South India. What struck us the most upon arrival was the lack of Hindi, and the presence of Malayalam. I immediately started speaking in Hindi to a shop-owner, and he looked at me baffled until I finally realized, as Jori laughed at me, that he had no idea what I was saying. I find myself excited when I see a Hindi road sign or billboard, a language I can understand amidst the scribbles of Malayalam. Kerala is the most literate state in all of India, boasting over 98% literacy, yet they also boast the highest unemployment rate. Kerala is an arid state, with no issues of drought at all. They get plentiful rain and, although like most of the rest of India conserve their water, have few issues with scarcity. What they do struggle with is contamination. One of the men I spoke with was telling me that so much raw sewage gets leaked into their water that many residents in his area have resorted to bottled water lately. I feel like no matter where I go, in terms of weather, and water quality and availability, these people just can't win. It's either a drought in the desert, or pouring rain that doesn't stop, inundating dams and low-laying villages, killing hundreds. Can't there be a happy medium?

We did a short sight-seeing tour of the city that started with the oldest synagogue in all of the commonwealth. What used to be home to over 5,000 Jewish followers, now only has 10. We got to meet one of them, she is probably somewhere in her early 80's and sat knitting while she spoke to us. Tourism is keeping the synagogue alive, as there is no one else to visit it in all of Kerala. We went from there to a Catholic church where we saw the tomb of Vasco de Gama. I was most excited for the Chinese fishing nets, an ancient traditional way of fishing that has been nearly lost elsewhere in India aside from Kerala. They were interesting to watch, but it saddened me to hear that the old wisdom and tradition was supported 80% by tourists coming to watch and participate. The commodification of culture at its best.... Here is one of the nets being taken out of the water. They let tourists help do this to make money, as over-fishing has led to there being very few fish, as you can see in the net.

We watched a traditional Keralan dance that evening, but only saw a small piece of it as it usually lasts from early evening to early morning. It was a re-enactment of a scene from the Ramayana, a Hindu epic. Men study for 12-16 years to perform these dance routines, as they require not only dances but impeccable control over the body and facial features. The men play the parts of both the men and women. A green-painted face means he is part of royalty, and a "good guy" as they say, where a black face means demon, and a red-painted face means the character is nice on the outside, but a demon on the inside. Here we are with the good guy after the show.

We spent one night on a houseboat in the backwaters after that. We ate traditional lake fish (with the eyeballs still intact when they served us...) and all our meals off large banana leaves. They served us fish curry, dal, coconut cabbage, fresh pineapple, mango, bananas, among many other vegetables. Dinner was large prawns the size of lobsters that we had no idea how to eat. The boat cruised through the canals of Kerala, and we got to see a snake boat race. The race is once a year, called the Nehru race (after the last Indian president) and we think they were practicing when they went past us. Below is a video of it.

So we are in Kovalam now until we fly to Tamil Nadu in a day or two. I love the South, and am learning just how different it really is from the North, aside from the language differences. The dress, all of the food, even the looks and features of the people are different. It's like we're in a different country. And I hear Tamil Nadu is even so much different from Kerala.

Moving On

I am officially done with my internship in the village and have finished teaching and working on the farm. It was quite an eye-opening experience, one that kept me wanting more, wanting to stay longer. It was a tearful goodbye with my family, but I knew leaving there that I would be back someday, and I think they knew it too. They always asked about my own family back home, and I told them that next time I come I won't be alone; I hope that is true!

I knew I would learn so much from working on the farm and traveling throughout the village (and I did!), but I never in a million years thought I would learn so much from teaching in the school. It was a new experience for me, and one that proved to be amazing. To give you an idea of what I was working with: of every hundred children (of school-going age) in India, around seventy enroll in Class I. Half of these drop out before they complete the primary level; less than ten of the remaining thirty-five make it into Class VIII, and fewer than five finish high-school. So, as an NGO, "Eklavaya," puts it, that says that of the massive school system in India, it boasts only a five percent efficiency. (For the lower-and lowest- castes, these numbers are much, much lower.) This is not to say that many Indians do not finish school and attend University, they do. India produces many of the worlds best engineers and doctors (and IT technicians!), but in terms of their massive population, the percent is still low in comparison. In terms of teaching, more than sixty percent of primary schools in India only have one teacher (or at best two) to take care of all five classes, and there are over 2,628 primary schools with simply no teachers at all. Along the lines of my research: of 5.29 lakh primary schools, over half of them have no drinking water facilities, and eighty-five percent, no toilets. Learning all of this certainly made me want to stay longer, to help in some way, somehow, to keep these kids in school. I learned that in many rural villages like the one I was in, literacy is replacing education. The government is passionate about increasing literacy, especially among girls, and has created numerous programs to aid in doing so. However, in many of these rural programs they are peddling literacy as a substitute for education, teaching them to simply read, and sending them on their way. As P. Sainath puts it in an article in The Times of India, (from where much of these statistics came from) "Literacy is a vital social tool. It is not an education..." It is probably true that there is no literate population that is poor, and no illiterate population that is other than poor, but that still does not eliminate the need for a well-rounded education. This experience changed me in a way I never imagined, causing me to look deeper into the roots of education and consequently social change, economics and development. I can only hope that in some small way, I have made as much of a difference to at least one of these children as they made to me.

So, I am back in Jaipur now, and preparing for my flight to Mumbai tomorrow to meet Jori (she goes to Hamilton College; we went abroad together last semester and she is back in Mumbai for a month researching Bollywood films). I imagine being in the enormous city will be quite different than where I have been! We will spend two days in Mumbai and then fly on to the South, where I will continue my research in a much more arid region. I have been praying to the rain god to keep his showers moderate over the next few weeks, as the South is known for much, much heavier monsoon seasons. Maybe he can come visit Rajasthan for a bit and give some rain to them! I can only imagine us trudging through knee-deep puddles in the streets of Kerala-what a change in scenery from the dust storms in the desert!

While moving on (from my village family and my family in Jaipur) will be and has been sad and difficult, I am excited to embark on a new journey, venturing into the unknown, as they say, and experiencing all that the South of India has to offer!

Photos

I figure I've been doing a lot of talking, so here are some photos to show what I have been doing.

With some of the 4th and 5th grade students after school

Most of the school lines up outside, doing prayers and reciting English numbers and poems and before being released to go home. (I'm in the middle!)

With my 4th grade class

Some village kids near our farm (also my students)

Our small piece of land just down the road (for cow food and some vegetable growing only) after the government came through and dug up to insert a phone line underground. Note the difference towards the background of the photo in our green land and the neighbor's land.

A man walking his camel home at dusk

The desert sunset

Village Updates

I spent this past week in school working with the teachers to create a schedule of periods for each day. This way, it is not a "free-for-all" of who teaches what to whom and when. Every teacher now has 8 total periods in every day where they move from class to class teaching only their specialty subject. It is a much more organized system now and seems to be working quite well so far. The children are getting used to a schedule and no class is left without a teacher at any point during the day. School days are longer now that it is cooling off a bit. The day starts an hour earlier and ends an hour later, now that the children can walk home in the afternoon without being scorched. In the summer months the children that walk 4 or 5 kilometers complain that there is no water along the way, making the journey treacherous.

I noticed very soon on that not every child has a book. Most have notebooks and tiny little knubs of pencils, but the textbooks are lacking in the classroom, making it hard for most students to keep up or follow along. I donated a new book, pencil, and pen for each of the children today, hoping that new supplies will not only help their experiences, but get them excited to come to learn more using their new things.

The frustration I experienced early on in communicating with the children has subsided; I have mastered the "Indian head nod" and many of the Hindi commands needed in the classroom and most of the students are better behaved now that they know me. I am still having trouble adjusting to their methods of discipline; they beat the children, whip their hands with wooden sticks and slap them hard across the face when they don't do their homework, spell a word wrong or misbehave. I tried explaining that taking away recess or making the child sit in the back of the room may be just as effective, but there is no changing this system. Maybe that's why my students like me so much, they know that when I am teaching no one is disciplined in such a manner. Just another cultural difference that takes some getting used to...

Work on the farm has been slower the past few days as we are just waiting for rain. I ride everyday to our farm down the road and collect the cow food, then feed and milk the cows every evening. I weed a little, but the plots are ready for peanuts now, it's just the clouds that aren't. I have found myself doing more odd jobs around the house and kitchen work with the women than working in the fields. I re-string cots and sweep the house and porches; I was the dishes and help prepare the fire for chappatis two times a day. I learn more from talking with the family members during work than I ever imagined. I have found that they are very responsive to my questions, and love telling me all about their lives. I have taken a good amount of photos as well, which I will put up tomorrow (when the internet is faster!).

Family Farms

After school I change out of my sari and go to work in the fields. I have recently been weeding waist-high wild trees that grew in the winter on the plot where they will eventually plant peanuts. There has still been no rain, so they have yet to plant anything. I doubt I will be here when/if they plant this season. The trees are so deeply-rooted and thick that I ended up slicing my fingers open one by one just from tugging.

I have spent the past few afternoons and evenings on a motorcycle going around to different family farms and homes in the village and surrounding area. Not only do I love riding the motorcycle, the wind blowing in my hair as the sun sets in the desert, but seeing the different homes and farms has been interesting as well. My family owns a small piece of land about 5 kilometers out that we visited last night. Many of the homes I stop at are those of children that I teach. I should note that they walk 3 or 4 kilometers to and from school everyday, many without shoes. (That is one of the things I am donating before I leave, among pencils, pens and books, to the school) Their land is mostly barren and brown with nothing growing, their homes small and open-air, some looking simply like an organized pile of bricks. Our land is next to one of those homes. Green, plush vegetable patches and waist-high cow food, our land is full of hearty brush and crops. Not two feet over, separated by only a barbed wire fence, is the neighbors' land, brown and empty. How is that possible? I couldn't understand how two pieces of land right next to each other could be so opposite. If there is water for us, why isn't there water for them? The answer: we have an electric pump; they have a diesel pump. With the rise in diesel prices recently they can't afford to water their land, as one liter of diesel is 40 rupees and only about 30 minutes of watering. So, my family lets them use the cow food we grow and some of the vegetables, when they are ripe.

I have to say, this is the most interesting internship I have ever had, with enough excitement and differences in work to keep me content. From teaching, farming, touring the village and our land, being with the family and learning to cook, I have done more in the past few weeks here than I could have ever imagined.

School

I think part of the reason I am attracted to living in this country is the excitement of it all. I can wake up every single morning and know, without fail, that I will see or do at least one thing I have never seen or done before, at least one thing that it is not possible to do in the United States. I had a few of those moments yesterday. I needed to re-charge my phone and we needed some more mangos so I volunteered to take the government sponsored twenty-minute Jeep ride into the nearest town. I have never been in a vehicle with more people in my life. A small Jeep, made for maybe 8, crammed almost 40 people. 6 in the front seat, 6 in the middle, 5 on the hood, 8 in the back seats (not including the 4 children on laps) 3 hanging out the driver side, 4 hanging out the passenger side and 6 on the roof. It was quite a squished and sweaty experience, and the same on the way back.

While I was there I shared a pack of cookies with the children who surrounded me gawking, bought some nail polish and henna to do with the wives, picked up the mangoes and got caught in the pouring rain. I have never been dripping sweat in the pouring rain before; it was scalding hot water falling from the sky and the heat penetrating from the pavement as it hit didn't help either. But overall, it was a nice trip; it was good to get off the farm for a bit and walk around.

I guess I should describe the school I've been teaching at for the past week or so. It's a one-room school-house, but not really. It's a rectangular shape, with one hallway and six little "alcoves" cut out from the main hallway where the classrooms are. The children sit on the floor in rows. There is a small chalkboard in each one as well. There are 2 nursery classes with small children, and the teachers who are less educated teach them. Right now two girls, maybe my age, who have only completed tenth grade are working with them. There is one second/third grade class that gets somewhat left behind, shifting teachers daily. Then there are two more classes, one of fourth and fifth graders with about twenty students and one of sixth and seventh graders with about ten students. I alternate first and second periods between the two. (There are only two periods in the day, one before lunch and one after).

The government school just down the road is much more expensive, requiring a large initial fee and then 25 rupees a month. Our school requires a one-time payment of 50 rupees (and this is the first year they've required that). Still, there are many children in the village who cannot afford that, and there are many children at the school without pencils or pens. But, as I have noticed in the older classes, the students are bright, interested in learning and for the most part well-behaved. They study hard (most of the them) and are prepared for class. I have so far very much enjoyed teaching here the past week.

Back to the Village

I am quite pleased with how I spent my weeks away from the farm and out of the village. I visited numerous NGO's and went on a few "field-trips" for research. I frequented the Sikh temple down the street from my hotel and saw some touristy things in Delhi, as well as eating out every night with Jeremy and spending a weekend in Manali, high in the Himalayas. I left Delhi and returned to Jaipur, making only a 2-day visit with my homestay family. They were having their annual big puja (worship) the day after my return, and I just had to be there. As my little brother put it, its a day where they "waste 100 liters of water for no good reason." As my Dad put it, "we do it once a year to bring success, wealth, health, everything. We don't waste the water, we pour it on the god." So, I dressed myself up in my Indian attire and accompanied my family for the 13 hour ceremony. They treated me like one of the family, letting me hold the fire plate and wave it over the deity, and stand with the family in front while everyone blessed them. I'm glad I stayed for the celebration.

I came back here to the village the next day. The entire country was on strike; schools, shops, businesses, everything was closed in protest for, among other things, the high rise in petrol prices throughout the country. Therefore, I have only had 2 days at the school so far. If there's anything I've learned having lived in this country for a total of almost 6 months, its that nothing is learned without experience. How to book a bus ticket, how to agree on a rickshaw fare, how to barter a price, how to deal with the gawking stares and subtle touches of men and boys, the list goes on. Learning to do these things comes only from being forced into the situation and dealing with it. Teaching was no different. They threw me into the classroom with no instructions, no information on how old the children were, or how much English they already knew. They told me, like Nike does, to "just do it." I was teaching the second grade, kids way to young for me to be dealing with, given my limited Hindi. They misbehaved, asked me questions I couldn't answer and I could sense the frustration between both of us of not being able to communicate. Today, I was (thankfully and after some convincing) moved to 5th grade. It was an amazing day. The children behaved, listened to my broken Hindi commands and even learned something. We worked on grammar: I go to school, you go to school, we go to school etc. then even had the time to move onto present progressive, I am going to school etc... I quizzed them at the end of the day on what we learned, and most remembered. It's a rewarding feeling, and I am looking forward to seeing the children in the village this afternoon on my walk to see if they have forgotten what we did today! Two of the girls in my class are married (12 and 14 years old) but they live with their parents until they are 18. Just a fact I found interesting, sad, different, and intriguing.

When I look back on the past few years, I would never have guessed that I would be living in the middle of the desert in village India, wearing a sari everyday to teach English in a school for Dalit children. What an experience...

Manali

I spent the weekend in Manali with Jeremy. We took what was supposed to be a 16-hour bus ride (it ended up being closer to 18) and spent almost 13 of the hours ascending up the mountains into the Himalayas. It was a tease to have such cool and beautiful weather for only two days. The scenery was beautiful; our guesthouse looked right out over the snow-capped mountains (above). The Beas River flows right through Old Manali, where we stayed, and many of the road-side cafes and and restaurants overlook the waters. The river starts at Rohtang Pass in Himachal Pradesh, which is about 50 km. from where we were. The river “feeds” many of the local travelers and tourists, as well as the residents along it, but also supplies Punjab and Pakistan before flowing into the Arabian Sea. Usually the river is clear blue and easy flowing, but we were there at the start of the monsoon season and the river was intense and flowing strong. We spent the days visiting some temples in the area that are famous for natural hot springs and just enjoying the views and weather. There were many other tourists there, Indian and foreign, seeking to escape the heat of Delhi and many other parts of the country. Overall, it was a good time; I wish we could have stayed longer, but it was a nice vacation.

The Beas River flowing through Old Manali, a 10 minute walk from our guesthouse

More Delhi

"Plans change" was one of the first phrases I had to get used to being in India last year. I'm a scheduler; I'm always twenty minutes early to everything and have each day planned and mapped out. I realized very soon here that that is not possible. It's a good learning experience for me. Our plans for Pushkar were uprooted when the buses were full and the trains waitlisting passengers for over a week. Plan B: Manali. High up in the Himalayan mountains of North India, Manali is a hilltop station in the state of Himachal Pradesh. It should be much cooler there, and will probably end up being better than heading to Pushkar in the desert. We leave tomorrow.

I had just gotten back to my room this afternoon when I heard a knocking at my window. I live on the third floor and have a small balcony, that is locked. It was the wind; I had made it inside just in time before the dust storm started. I attempted to take a video out my hotel window.

The building to the right is the Commonwealth Building. The Commonwealth Games are held every four years, opposite the Olympics. They are similar to the Olympics, but only those in the Commonwealth of Nations participate. They are tearing up the city of Delhi in preparation for the massive amounts of people they are expecting this October. There is construction everywhere and streets are filled with dust and dirt, roads torn up and everything in disarray. It will look fantastic once it is done, but I sure hope they can finish in time. A massive ticker sits out front of the building, reminding everyone how many days until the games start. Look here for more information on the games http://www.cwgdelhi2010.org/

Below is a photo of one of the streets. Stepping over the bricks and debris was a nightmare, on top of trying to breathe and not get the dust in my eyes. It'll all be worth it though...

An NGO Week

I have spent the past few days visiting NGO's in the Delhi and surrounding area. I mostly visit ones concerning the environment and my research, but I spent the morning with a very interesting one yesterday.

Salaam Baalak Trust is an NGO devoted to helping "street children" get off the streets and into homes and school. I was given a tour of the places in Delhi that the street kids frequent and live by a former street child. He is 22 now, and was separated from his brother at the New Delhi Railway station when he was 6. He was living on a bridge above the railway station (where over 1,000 kids live) for almost a year. He fell prey to a local gang and became engaged in pick pocketing, and buying and selling drugs. (The most common drug among the street children is White-Out) Salaam Baalak Trust picks the children off the street and offers them food and shelter, with the option to stay or go home. Most of the children, I learned, are not born on the streets or even abandoned, but runaways. I met many more of the children at their headquarters who had run away from abusive and alcoholic fathers or sexually abusive family members. It was an interesting city walk and an amazing learning experience.

After that, I went to the Center for Science and Environment. They are a large organization working to raise awareness about issues in the environment. I met with the water team over lunch, and they were a plethora of information; many of them study the same things I am interested in. They invited me on a boat trip down the Yamuna River today on a field trip with students in a summer course they are teaching. I tagged along. The river is sickening. I swam in the Ganga last year and had no health issues afterwards (in fact, it healed a cut I had!) However, there is no way anyone could pay me to swim in the Yamuna. Getting in the boat was hard enough. Raw sewage flows into it and the water is literally black. It constantly bubbles from the ammonia in it and our little speed boat had to stop numerous times to untangle the motor from plastic bags and trash. I have never been so sad looking at a body of water, or so disgusted. We floated down past the cremation areas and I realized I was paddling through a huge toilet, as the boat hit not just trash, but sewage and bones of people and animals too. People bathed in it all around us, washed their clothes and made offerings to Her, while I tried my hardest to keep my scarf over my face so not to gag from the stench. The river is long, and only 2% of it flows through Delhi. What is more sickening is that Delhi contributes to 80% of the pollution in the river. From sewage, to industrial areas, to damming, construction on the flood plain, and everyday abuse, the river is considered a dead river. While environmentally she is dead, spiritually, she is very much alive. It is an interesting conundrum and continues to plague the minds and actions of the government, Hindus, scholars, and tourists. Below are some pictures from the boat ride.

Some photos from the Yamuna River in Delhi

Unclogging the motor

Raw sewage flowing directly from Delhi homes and businesses into the river

A man paddles a "dingy" made from waste across the river

Trash lines the banks of the river as the black water constantly bubbles with ammonia from the untreated sewage

Temporary huts line the banks of the river during the summer. The inhabitants practice agriculture during the summer months, but the banks flood and their homes are destroyed during the monsoon season. They return every year.

I will NEVER again complain about heat during New York summers.

It seems as though the heat is following me. Delhi has been blisteringly hot these past few days. Jeremy and I were out walking yesterday and decided we couldn't do it; we were drenched in sweat and my skin felt like it was burning off. We eventually made our way back to my hotel (after getting lost for half hour on the back roads...) and looked up how hot it was online. 112 degrees F, with very high humidity. I woke up this morning to a huge article in the Hindustan Times about how yesterday was a record high heat for Delhi, with even higher humidity, which is what makes it unbearable. Interviews with residents stated that no one went outside yesterday, staying inside under the fans, but even then the humidity was too high. No wonder we had such a hard time yesterday! We ended up using the pool at my hotel and then going to a restaurant and bar with AC to watch a few World Cup "football" games.

Being white, we are constantly hassled by beggars, men, woman and children. We were stopped at a red light yesterday in a rickshaw and a man in a wheel chair parked himself right next to our rickshaw. Both of his legs were cut off, with bright yellow puss oozing from the end of each limb. His arm was deformed and he was covered in dirt, flashing a painful and needy expression towards us. It was sickening and sad to look at him. I have never given money to a beggar, ever. I have given water, food, candies, fruit, but never money. I commented that I felt bad and Jeremy agreed, but noted that he feels like he is doing something good in return because of his job. He works for an NGO that works to get kiosks into small villages that provide education and eventually jobs to rural villagers in need. I realized then, is all I'm doing taking and taking from this country, studying its people and ways of life without giving anything? Granted, I'm teaching in the school and helping plant on the farm starting in about a week, but the thought really hit me.

I have all my days in Delhi free because Jeremy works 9-5, so I have decided to spend most of them visiting NGO's in the area that work to help India's underdeveloped and rural areas. Maybe from there I can start working with one for the little time I have here in the city. I have a meeting tomorrow in Paharganj, an area in Delhi known for its runaway and street children. My "tour" will be given by a former street child that this program helped. It should be very interesting. From there, I have a lunch date with all of the people at the Center for Science and Environment that work in the water sector (the magazine writers, engineers, media reps etc.) I asked for an interview and tour and they invited me to their meeting! Busy day tomorrow, and very educational.

We are planning a trip to Pushkar for this weekend where we can relax, do a camel safari, and I can do some research. Pushkar is home to the only Brahma temple in the world. Near that is the holy lake that had dried up last time we were here (during the camel fair on Kartik Purnima, the full moon in November and the holiest day to bathe in the lake). It will be interesting to continue my research there and see how far it has come along, or how much more it has dried up.

I meant what I said when I mentioned that doing even the simplest of things here requires super-human patience. I had asked numerous travel agents and workers at my hotel about buses to Pushkar, and they all told me to go to the same place to book it. I got there today after a twenty-minute rickshaw ride, waited in a giant mass of people (the concept of a line is non-existent here), pushed and shoved my way to the front, and they laughed at me saying there was no bus to Pushkar. We're looking into trains now.

Discovering Delhi

I have been thinking how much of a success our trip last semester was, knowing that there are 4 of us in India right now (one never left, and three of us returned). Pretty good, I'd say. I'm in Delhi with Jeremy now, he lives 4 metro stops away so we met up last night. He's going to show me around a little more today, this city is huge, even after staying here last semester i still get so lost. His work takes him out to rural villages, so I'm planning on going with him some of the days next week.

Delhi Bound

My visit with the farmer the other day went well, his farm has progressed so much in the 7 months since I was last there. He's a great and intelligent man, and a source of a lot of information for me. He invited me to his other farm (that his son runs) in Pushkar, home to the great "Pushkar Camel Fair" that we went to last November. (Google it, it was amazing!) I may return a few days early from Delhi to make a trip out there (about 3 hours from Jaipur). His "hotel" there consists of cloth tents smack in the middle of the barren desert, but they were nice last time we stayed in them so I would love to return and stay with his son.

I'm leaving for Delhi tomorrow on an early bus. From Delhi, who knows! A little exploring, some research if I can manage it, and possibly some traveling from there...

City City City

I am back in the city now, where it is much cooler than the desert. There were a few rain drops yesterday and my brothers and I went running out to splash in them, but it stopped after probably 10 drops and turned into a terrible and blinding dust storm. Oh well, at least it cooled off for a bit with a nice breeze during the night.

Trying to accomplish even the simplest of things, like booking a bus ticket or mailing a postcard are like wading through glue. They require super-human patience and persistence. That makes it easy to prioritize; if I want to do something bad enough, I'll muster up the patience and get it done. I have realized that the hardships I am facing here (not being able to stay in the desert because of the heat, no growing on the farm and the school closed) are tiny and almost unimportant obstacles in comparison to what the people living here are facing during these hot summer months. Waiting for the water tanker every morning, scavenging for food, trying to stay cool, bathing once a week, hunting for work...the list goes on. My having to return to Jaipur is nothing. My roadblock is not a roadblock, simply a miniscule speed-bump slowing me down.

I went this morning on a whim and unannounced to visit a contact I had made last October, a Rajput farmer who owns numerous hotels and farms in the state of Rajasthan. He welcomed me back graciously and offered to take me to his farm tomorrow. We will pack a lunch and spend the day there, as it is 2 hours away, we'll leave in the morning and return at night. He was just starting up the farm last time, and I am interested to see his progress. As he is a Rajput and has much more money and resources than most of the other farmers I have encountered, he claims to be doing quite well. He has invited my homestay family to his hotel for dinner tonight. It feels good when being proactive pays off.

I have made plans to go to Delhi for the next week or two. I'll be staying in an area I know, and from there I can fly, train, bus, or taxi to anywhere else in India, as Delhi is the capital and "hub" of the country. We'll see where this takes me. As they say: "seb kuch milenga," all is possible.

Village Photos

Because I can't put photos from the farm where I am staying because of my research, here are some photos from the village. Water tankers bring water to the village in the morning and a woman walks back with her water. A man feeds his camels and collects firewood; fields lay barren, fertilized with manure.

From the Farm

I am learning so much from being here. While they are growing no crops yet due to the heat and lack of rains, and the school is still closed, everyday life here is a joy (as uneventful as it is). I spend my days between 10 am and 6 pm with the farmer's wife and her 9 month old baby. We talk about everything: our families, our hometowns (as she is from the big city of Jaipur and now lives here in the desert village) and everything else from sports to food and beyond. I made a vow on my first day to sit with her in the “oven” as I call it while she makes the chapattis. She rolls, kneads, cooks and stacks 40 chapattis, two times a day. To say that it is hot in this room with the clay fire cooker is an understatement. Its blazing. I figured, as I sat there on my first day, that if she has to be miserable in here, sweating what seems like forty pounds off, then it might be easier to do if she has someone to talk to. We have been doing Hindi lessons while she makes chapattis all week. I am hoping that my being there makes it easier for her.

I have found that, as frustrating as trying to speak another language is, it can be hysterical. I woke up this morning and, having felt some lactose intolerance lately from the “fresh-from-the-cow” milk, decided their milk-heavy chai would not be a good idea. She offered to make me tea and I said “no thank you.” She said “no?” and looked confused as to why I wouldn't want chai. I said “ I'm ok.” She said “ok? I make.” Laughing I said “no thank you.” She responded, “your welcome.” I drank the tea. Other times I find my head spinning from the Hindi half getting to my brain and half going right over my head. Before I know it I'm splurting out some mix of Hindi, English and Spanish and everyone is looking at me confused. I can pick up most sentences, and when I can't I can usually at least recognize what the subject of the conversation is. Many times though, it is all going so fast around me that when I am not being directly spoken to, I zone out into my own world. Yesterday, I “came to” in the middle of a conversation during dinner between the farmer and his wife. “You ask her” he said. “No, you ask.” she responded. I sat patiently, eating my chapatti, waiting to hear who was going to win the battle and ask me whatever pressing issue they were discussing. “Honey” he said “I told you to ask now ask.” When she didn't I started to get nervous, wondering if they were going to ask me something personal or embarrassing. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he said, “Leeza, do you want your watermelon now or in a few minutes?”
I go to bed at the end of the day tired from listening. It sounds foolish but when all day is spent deciphering sentences and signals, the silence and rest of the night is so appealing!

I sat outside today discussing the water issue (there was a large article about it in the Hindi daily newspaper) with the farmer and one of the teachers at the school who was visiting. Suddenly, the farmer jumped up and yelled “Ah! Jao!” (Go) I looked, and saw no one. The teacher looked at me and we laughed. There was no cow or goat eating the plants, no boy running wild and no one even in sight. Finally, he pointed out the most deadly lizard in India. Great, right at my doorstep. “One bite, 2 seconds, dead” he said making a cutting motion across his neck. I looked at it and couldn't tell the difference between this one and the many that crawl my floor and walls at night eating insects. They're the same color, same size, same shape. How will I ever know, I asked him. He said, “Oh, you just will.” Let's hope I ever come across that lizard again....

I learned today that many of the deaths in this area are either in the summer, when many of the elderly cannot stand the heat, or in the winter from camels. It is mating season for camels during the winter and if a male camel owner does not have a female, the male gets angry and lashes out, grabbing the neck of the owner with his enormous mouth and never letting go. There goes my dream of making friends with all these camels....my trust is gone!

I have been trying to catch the water trucks as they come into the village everyday, but they do not come at a set time every morning. Therefore, I have resorted to just walking the village for an hour or two. This morning, I made it through our village and the next one into the quiet desert air. There was no one around me and no one in sight. Brown surrounded me; large fields lay barren and dry with some trees in the distance. Finally, peace. I saw two people walking towards me and as they got closer I was able to make out that they were females. Good, I thought, safer for me, as my head was not covered and the fact that I am a foreigner was quite noticeable today. I was wrong. The women were dressed in bright orange and green saris and covered from head to toe in gold jewelery. Earrings, necklaces and anklets, they were “decked out” as we would say. However, upon seeing me they ran to me and started grabbing me, yelling in Hindi to give them money and food. Clearly, I had nothing but a small purse with my camera in it, and I pretended not to know Hindi, repeating over and over again “Hindi nahi, Hindi nahi.” One woman pointed to her belly and kept telling me she was pregnant and needed food for her baby. All I could think was to tell her to sell some of her bling. They followed me for quite some time yelling while I ignored them, before they finally gave up and turned around. They may have needed the food and money, maybe not. But the looks in their eyes told me that they knew that to us, 100 rupees is 2 dollars, to them it's a months pay.

After careful consideration and a pro and con list, I am catching a (free!) ride back to Jaipur tomorrow. I have exhausted all the research and questions I can ask one farmer here, being cooped up inside his home all day. When life takes away your lemons, you gotta find some other way to make lemonade. I haven't planned where I am going yet, maybe up to the mountains where it is NOT 135 degrees, or to some of the places in Rajasthan I've wanted to see that will help my research. Regardless, I will be returning here in the first few days of July to help plant (hopefully, if the rains come) and help teach when the school opens.

Photos to come once I'm in Jaipur and have faster internet....

"Leeza, you are my sister"

Another day at the farm...

It is still pretty hot here but I am getting used to it little by little. Sleeping at night is the worst, but the days are getting easier at least.

I have a job come 6:00 PM everyday. I become a sprinkler. Using a giant tube I water the plants, grass and trees all over the farm. Because there are no crops, the water is used to flood the dirt. Actually, I am not a sprinkler as the name implies, I am more a flooder. Everything gets flooded; I feel foolish to be drowning grass and dirt with water that the villagers down the street could be using to drink or cook with, but I simply do what I am told.

I went for a walk this morning for about an hour and proceeded to have dirt thrown at me, "Engres!" (foreigner) yelled at me and 3 men with bikes try to run me over laughing. It's not as bad as it sounds really, I just picked out the three worst things. The landscape is absolutely beautiful and watching everyone prepare for their days throughout the village is quite different from what I am used to seeing. Kids fetching water, women with bundles of firewood on their heads and men plowing, smoking, or cutting wood. I love the village walks and this morning I was lucky enough to turn back at just the right time when the government water trucks were coming to deliver to the village. Everyone but the family I am with came with buckets to fill for the day.

I am starting to make progress with the wife I am staying with. (I cannot use names of people or places or any photos of them either because of the research I am doing in accordance with the IRB rules.) She showed me her wedding album today and we sat talking inside for a few hours when the sun was at its hottest. She asked if I had a boyfriend and begged to see pictures; I showed her and she told me: "he better be nice to you, he looks like he is." I told her yes, the best anyone ever has been. Walking back to the house tonight, our hands full with dinner and the enormous black dog, Sultan, guiding us through the dark she said to me, "Leeza, you are my sister." I was truly touched and commented that with 2 brothers at home in the US, I always wanted a sister.

I am slowly starting to feel more at home here, but I am simply not getting enough research done due to the heat. When nature throws you a curveball, what do you do? At this point I am planning to head back to Jaipur in a few days and then return here July 1 when the heat is gone, the crops are planted and the school re-opens.

The Farm Day 1

I arrived on the farm about a day and a half ago. The first thing the farmer said to me was about the record high temperatures in Rajasthan. Because of this, the school is still closed until July 1 and they are not growing any crops, only lemon, pomegranate, neem, acacia, and orange trees. Everything has withered away and many of the trees are scorched. They sit from 10am to 6pm inside under the fans, doing absolutely nothing. Before 10am and after 6pm we work, but there is still not much to do.

I spend the time asking them questions about their water issues, as there is NO water in this area for the people to use, yet this family is able to flood their trees when they water them. A government truck delivers water to the village every morning, and people come running with buckets. Our family does not do this, we have our own 10 HP pump and wells to use, sucking the groundwater of its last available resources. It's an interesting conundrum: are they greedy? rich? (yes) or just taking advantage of what they can? Wouldn't anyone else do the same?

Aside from that, living with them has been very nice. Because it is so hot, they would not let me stay in the same room I did last time, instead they are putting me up in the main house, where the head farmer, his wife and 9 month old baby live. I have a real flushing toilet here, as well as a bed under a fan and a marble floor (not dirt!) There is a shower too. I couldn't have asked for better living accommodations while being here.

Maybe it is from being an anthropologist, or maybe it's because I have done this and been here before, but I thought I knew what to expect upon coming back to the farm. Being the "other" is never easy, especially here in India where the sighting of a white person is like the sighting of a camel in New York City. This family is used to "us" though, having hosted WWOOFers many times before. Still, I can't help but feel awkward, not knowing my place, like an outcast(e). It will get easier, as I begin to get more comfortable around the family, but for now I miss having another "other" around to talk to at the end of the night, compare "notes" on the happenings of the day and just speak in English with.

Although I don't have much farm work to do around here until the end of June, I am trying my best to stay busy and make the most of each day. I wish I brought more books, but I have started some relaxed Hindi lessons with one of the wives and bird watching. Yes, I have taken up bird watching. There is a book in the house of birds in India. Having sat outside this morning and watched numerous brightly colored birds flutter past and stop for a sip at the well, I decided to crack it open.

I have, as of now, no problem with the thick layer of dust that covers everything in sight or anything left out; I am slowly getting used to the lizards chasing each other up and down the wall above my bed; the small ants everywhere don't seem harmful; the heat is rough but bearable; and the lack of toilet paper has become something to laugh at. But here, out in the middle of the quiet and serene desert, away from the bustling city of Jaipur with its honking horns and giant trucks blaring Hindi film music, it is the screeching, the kawing, and the squeaking of the peacocks piercing the silent air that is truly starting to get on my nerves. Granted they're beautiful creatures, moving quite majestically, made with such beauty, and held to such high and holy esteem in India. Why then, were they made with such deafening, high-pitched, non-stop voices? When one is near and "speaking," you cannot have a conversation with anyone, because their calls are so deafening, they drown out any competition. I'll get used to it I suppose, as I have gotten used to most everything else, but for now they're simply annoying.

Because of the lack of work here, I may go back to Jaipur for a week and pay a visit to a different farmer I had met last time. There is not much for me to do here, except relax and waste the days away. Unfortunately, that's not what I'm here to do and have to end up coming home with some work done. We'll see how it all plays out...more updates soon.

Photos

I haven't gotten my camera out too much yet, but here are 2 photos so far. The one above is taken out the side of an auto rickshaw driving down the street. Below, is simply a man walking. I thought this image well represented what I was seeing everyday.

Off to the Village

I had called and ordered a very overpriced taxi to take me to the desert village today, knowing that trying to squeeze myself into the over-crammed and hot, sweaty bus would not be a good idea in this heat. Last time I took it, the bus was nearly empty in the beginning, yet I couldn't move because all the village men had crowded around my companion and me, staring and touching. That is not something I want to do alone, or in this heat. Therefore, I had gotten the taxi and was angry about being ripped off and uncomfortable to be "rolling in" to this village in a nice car. Fortunately, the farmer I am staying with called me this morning and offered me a ride back to his farm. He has some things he needs in Jaipur and will be in the city this morning. What luck I have....

I have been trying to update this blog as much as possible, knowing that I will rarely, if ever, be able to do it on the farm. The "hot spots" for internet are in the big cities so if my internet plug works at all (doubtful), it will be slow.

I am excited to finally get on the farm. While I learn something new here at my homestay everyday, I have noticed that it is a different kind of learning. Here, I learn from experience. For example, I discovered quickly that a fool and his rupee part quickly. If you're not willing to fight for how much to pay in a rickshaw or for a something in a shop, you'll get ripped off simply for being white. Confidence and aggressiveness are not considered rude or mean when negotiating a price, but necessary. Similarly, I know I need to cover my head when entering a Muslim mosque, or take my shoes off going into a Hindu temple. The things I discover here are mainly everyday occurrences, things I learn from making mistakes and living my life. The things I will learn on the farm will be more from observation. Watching and working with the farmers in the fields, observing how they water the crops, and simply asking questions. While I will make mistakes and feel uncomfortable at times there too, I am excited to learn more facts and discover more information for my project. Working and teaching in the school will also be an amazing experience, one that I am very excited for as well.

Daily life will be different, much more labor intensive, but just as fun and will help my Hindi a great deal. Hopefully I will be able to update this soon, otherwise, I'll be back in a few weeks.

Pests

Ironically, I find that it's not the giggling of little kids as I pass, the women throwing their veils up to stare at me or the disgusting grins of men looking me up and down that bother me the most here. Nor is it the lack of what we consider "necessities," like toilet paper and the ability to change the temperature in the shower, or even have a shower with a shower head. I've noticed this time around that what I am truly having issues with, aside from acclimating with the heat of course, is rodents and insects. Granted, I had a heck of a time with them the last trip too, but I am noticing it more now already.

I was standing in the kitchen last night, something I rarely do as it is small and my Mom is usually cooking in it, and a rough scratch went over the top of my feet. I looked down to see a giant lizard or iguana or salamander (or something reptile-like!) slithering away. Naturally, I screamed. Naturally, my family came running. I explained to them what I saw and my little brother immediately fell to the grown in hysterics while my mother said jokingly in Hindi something along the lines of, "What? You haven't met our other pet yet?" I shrugged it off and laughed with them, as my heart returned to its normal pace.

I was going to buy some material to have a salwar suit "stitched" this morning and decided to bring my little brother (12) with me as not only a translator, but for advice of which materials were "cool." I figured he was young and could help me choose ones that wouldn't make me look even more foreign. On the way there, walking out of our colony we encountered an enormous pack of large, HUGE, black ants. They took up the entire street and it went from gray pavement to black. There was no way to walk on top of them without them getting on you, and no way to get around them either. I started to get itchy just looking at them. My brother looked at me, started laughing and walked over the top of them. I felt as though I should have been at the circus, sprinting over the top as if they were nails or hot coals.

I learned the hard way last time what happens if you leave clothes (moreso underwear) out in the open bedroom. Rather, my homestay sister learned, but I learned from her mistake. I officially have a pet rat. A big one. A really big one. Nothing like the little mice we used to catch with cheese in the basement at home. It eats things, leaves droppings everywhere, and has the ability to make me jump out of my pants as it scurries across the room. I keep my clothes in stuff sacks and everything is locked as best as possible from the little mischief.

It is these small things, that are only to get much worse as I move out of the city and onto the desert farm tomorrow, that seem to strike me the most, make my heart beat fast and make me the most uncomfortable. I love walking through the city, I don't mind not having toilet paper, and I can handle the scalding hot water in the summer and freezing cold water in the winter. It's the little pests I hate.

Rain, Rain....Come Back!!!!

It rained today at exactly 10:48. I was out running errands and had just come out of the phone store in the heart of the Jaipur city. Everything was bustling around me and the drops began to fall. I decided to enjoy it, as I had been yearning for it since I arrived and it is so rare here in the desert state of Rajasthan. I sat outside the store and looked up, hoping for more to come, but it stayed a drizzle. My clothes began to get soaked, and I loved it. It was the amount that would have sent me running for cover back home in the states, but I sat by myself on the stoop, absorbing not only the rain from above, but the stares of passerbys, as some foreigner looking foolish sitting in the rain with a huge grin on my face.

I continued with my errands after the rain stopped only ten minutes later, and my clothes were immediately dried by the humid air. I returned to some of the places we frequented here last time. We used to study for Hindi all the time at Anokhi Cafe, and I decided to go back there and visit the book shop for some reading to take to the farm. It was an interesting feeling; I was excited to go back there, but it was simply not the same without the group. I've got to stop going back to all these places. There is no way I can recreate, alone, the times I had with the group. I'm glad this is the only “repeat city” I am going to alone. Everything else will be new except Varanasi, but that will be with Jori towards the end of my trip.

I'm trying to update this as much as possible now, even though I am doing nothing exciting, because I am not sure how often I will be able to come Wednesday. Also, sorry for any typos or errors, the internet is verrrryyy slow and sometimes does not let me use the backspace button....

An Indian 21st

My birthday was great. We went to our Dad's factory for a bit, but there was no power and it was blazing hot, even for my mom, so we left soon after we arrived. We went out to lunch at “Yo!China” and had a good time. The food was very different from our Chinese food, and still had an Indian flare to it. We all came home after that and sat in our parents bedroom in the AC and played scrabble for the afternoon. Despite the boys being rambunctious and wild, it was a good time and reminded me of home. After that we cut the cake. It was very nice of them to get me a cake, it said “Lisa” on it, but looked very much like “USA” and we all laughed. We had a nice dinner and then went to get flavored sodas, the equivalent of going to get ice cream, though it only cost 5 rupees per soda, a total of about 35 american cents for the three kids. My mom drove us there, and does not know how to drive a car (only a Scooty). It was an interesting and scary experience that would otherwise not have been as nerve-wracking had we been in American traffic where there are road rules and patience. Overall, it was a great day. I am finally, finally becoming adjusted to the time change, heat and Indian life. I am starting to enjoy life here again. I realized that being cooped up in this house was a main impetus to my unhappiness at first. Now that I have started doing one errand a day and getting out there into the city, I am much happier. I still am not completely fond of being here alone, but there is a relaxing feeling to it and it is doing wonderful things for my independence and confidence.

Still at the Homestay

I brought my little brothers a blue “Nerf” football from the states. It is a mini football, with wings on the end and a “Colts” logo and sign on it. I thought it would be fun for them to play with, and a symbol of US sports and teams. I gave it to them this afternoon when we were heading to the park to play. They were mesmerized! They had no idea what it was or what to do with it; the fact that it whistles when thrown is another story! We got to the park and all of the kids there ran up to us immediately. Partly because I was with them and partly because of what the boys were holding. We began to throw it around and all the boys stopped playing cricket, girls stopped swinging and everyone crowded. I was excited, hoping to share the toy with the other kids and let them see the football, something they had clearly never seen before and was so sparkling new. My brothers immediately said we had to leave. “They'll break it” they told me. “they'll rip the wings off and never give it back.” We moved, and the boys followed. They were older, 13 or 14 maybe, and just seemed curious to me. I did see a sparkle of jealousy in one of the boys eyes, mixed with mischief. We moved on and played somewhere else. The boys kept following us, and we soon learned to ignore it, although it did feel weird to not let the other kids play with us. It made me think about a few different things, one being the fact that they have never seen a football, and two being the fact that my brothers knew they couldn't let the other boys touch it. My brothers actually looked scared; fear was the only thing I could see in my little brother's eyes when one of the older boys yelled “Dedo” (a polite way of saying “give it”). We had friends over our house tonight, two young kids and their parents, and none of them had any idea what the football was. I had to explain it, as best as I could, in Hindi. I realized that them not knowing my football was the same as me not knowing the long wooden stick they call a cricket bat.

It's interesting that I keep learning and experiencing new things here, different aspects of culture I never noticed last time, and different ways of life that continuously distract me. My mom gave the little one a bath this morning. He is 8 and spending a lot of time outside because they are on summer break. She rubbed him up and down (while he screamed) with a mixture of bread and buttermilk; it makes the skin lighter. An equivalent-but opposite- to our tanning booths? Who knows.

I Think I'm on the Surface of the SUN

I left home June 1 around 10am and finally arrived in Delhi at 4:30 PM on June 2nd. I sat in JFK airport for around 5 hours before my direct flight to Delhi left, and happened to find myelf sitting in the exact same spot we did with the group, almost one year ago. It was an odd and very, very sad feeling. I began to get the feeling that being in India without them was going to be much lonlier than I anticipated. We landed in Delhi and the pilot told us that the weather outside was 50 degrees Celcuis. Having no idea what this meant in Fahrenheit, I waited to find out myself. I had another flight to catch before reaching “home” in Jaipur and after a half hour of waiting for my luggage and then another half hour of trying to find the trolley to get to the domestic terminal, I was finally given correct instructions on where to go.

We landed in Jaipur around 8:30 and there were no rickshaws in sight. I got a taxi, and headed home for 260 rupees, what should have cost me 50 in a rickshaw. The minute I stepped out into the evening air, I immediately knew what 50 degrees Celcius meant. It had to be over one hundred, it just had to be. I drove through Jaipur and eventually reached my homestay house, with everyone waiting for me. It felt good to finally be there after traveling for so long, but it just was not the same without the rest of the group being there. The moment I stepped into their kitchen, I was blasted with heat and immediately started sweating. I had no appetite and was not tired, just feeling weird. Because it was so hot (I later found out that 50 degrees Celcius meant around 115 Farenheit) they would not let me sleep on the second floor where my old room was. I put all of my things in the old room, washed up a bit, changed my clothes and proceeded downstairs to where I was to sleep, in the same room as my little brothers. That room is air-conditioned, thank goodness, I don't know how else I could have done it!

I have felt quite faint adjusting to the 120 degree heat, but it is getting better. I just don't know how the Indians do it! I had an adventure getting this internet plug in for my computer, and they tell me it might not even work on the desert farm where I am eventually going. We'll see.

Everything else is going well, I venture out of the house when I can, but even the house is scalding hot, the fans are powered so low and the power is continuously going out. But hey, if they can do it I can do it. And I will. I plan to leave for the farm this Wednesday, and will try my best to update this while I am there. Otherwise, it might be a while before I can again.