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.