It’s hot and not like the kind of hot that you can bear long enough until AC saves, or can easily be cooled by a breeze. No this is quite like I imagine hell to be like. Good thing though, is that it is dry. If it’s going to be unbearably hot then atleast I shouldn't be too sweaty. Okay, I’m still sweaty.
Today we trekked to a monkey temple. The owner of the hostel – a helpful man named Manoj – told us that we absolutely had to check out this monkey temple. There were monkeys everywhere, they would eat from our hands, they were cute and furry. What he failed to mention however was that the trek to this monkey temple was basically a pilgrimage. We spent about 30 minutes climbing an 800 foot mountain whilst trying to avoid the constantly accosting eyes of various Indian men and children.
The monkeys were indeed adorable, also slightly scary. They were pretty strong and robust, and they do this strange growling type noise that is particularly intimidating.
We also were lucky enough to see a snake charmer. Though I’m fairly certain lucky isn’t quite the correct adjective. Chelsea is deathly afraid of snakes, so seeing a little boy with a snake wrapped around his neck probably didn’t excite her too much.
At the temple I noticed that there were many people jumping into a greenish colored pool. All the men and woman were doing it, usually wearing nothing or next to nothing to do so, and they seemed not at all concerned with the hygienic safety of this whole ordeal.
The walk back was nothing short of life changing - you tend to reanalyze your life when you're on the verge of death. 1.) I realized that I could indeed be a contestant on The Amazing Race and 2.) You walk faster when Indian men want to take pictures of you and stalk you. Suddenly you are filled with this energy you never knew existed when your personal space is about to be violated.
After our trek we headed to Johari Bazaar – the notorious jewelry bazaar in Jaipur. Our rickshaw drive continually asked us to go with him to his jewelry stores but I had already had enough with getting scammed in India.
The stores had some gorgeous jewelery, unfortunately the never ending heat proved to stiffly our ability to bargain, speak, or even walk. It was pretty rough.
Later I had a tasty Rajasthani Thali and after we went to a famous restaurant in Jaipur that had quite possibly the best ice cream I’ve ever had (and it was only 18 ruppees!) If only Jaipur didn’t threaten to kill me with heat, I would definitely enjoy it way more.
Another way in which I would enjoy it more is if people would stop harassing me! I hate being heckled. Absolutely hate it regardless of what country. Today proved to be little exception and I may have snapped back 3 or 7 times.
The favorite lines of today:
“Haaallow Haallow, Madame, madame madame.”
“You have sexy dress, sexy dress” my dress was not sexy
“Pretty like pretty camel” I still don’t understand this one
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Jaipur - the city of pretty
Chelsea, a fellow student from USAC, arrived in Jaipur late last night. My flight was delayed an hour and the journey was absolutely hilarious. My pilot sounded like a cracked out Jack Nicolson.
When I arrived in Jaipur my first though was "Shit, it really is ungodly hot here." but after a minute I realized that nothing quite compares to the humidity of Mumbai, so I counted my blessings.
We arrived at the hotel after only a couple minutes and discovered that it does indeed live up to the fabulous reviews. It really is a palace. The place is stunning, the owner is kind and helpful, and the food and fruit are to die for. Our room looks like it should be in a palace...but the architecture here is so stunning thats not suprising.
This morning, after a lovely shower and a good sleep, we decided to take a tour of Jaipur. The owner said "Do not pay more than 250 ruppees for a city tour" so we tried not to and struck a deal after only a short time. Though our drive brought us to some key destinations, the old city (Pink city), city palace, and eventually Amber Fort, I was definitely not getting a good vibe from him. I thought this on 2 occasions 1.) when he brought us to a textile factory, he's clearly commissioned 2.) when he started telling obscure dirty jokes. We had to get out of this.
Luckily, or not so luckily, we ran in to some 20 something Indian guys who unlike the 400 other people at Amber Palace that wanted to take pictures with us, actually asked us to take a picture of them. They seemed pretty nice so we started talking to them, eventually they invited us to a wedding. Me being a little to accepting of people gladly agreed. They said they'd give us a ride back, and asked how we go there. After we told them a driver was asking for 250 they laughed "Everyone loves ripping off foreigners." Awesome.
The boys talked down the drive to 200, when he was actually asking us for 500! Earlier, he said he'd give the tour for 250 - failing to mention that actually meant 250 each. Then we drove away and stopped at a place to eat.
In my limited understanding of Hindi I started to deduce that maybe going to this wedding wasn't the best idea. Don't get me wrong, I would absolutely love to go to an Indian wedding, but these guys were being a little to off putting for my preference, definitely the whole whispering in Hindi thing they had going on. So we thanked them for the ride an ditched them. Happy that we saved atleast 300 + ruppees for the day!
Oh Amber Fort and City Palace?! Absolutely gorgeous. These structures were strikingly beautiful, and simply took your breath away. This experience is best described through pictures.
When I arrived in Jaipur my first though was "Shit, it really is ungodly hot here." but after a minute I realized that nothing quite compares to the humidity of Mumbai, so I counted my blessings.
We arrived at the hotel after only a couple minutes and discovered that it does indeed live up to the fabulous reviews. It really is a palace. The place is stunning, the owner is kind and helpful, and the food and fruit are to die for. Our room looks like it should be in a palace...but the architecture here is so stunning thats not suprising.
This morning, after a lovely shower and a good sleep, we decided to take a tour of Jaipur. The owner said "Do not pay more than 250 ruppees for a city tour" so we tried not to and struck a deal after only a short time. Though our drive brought us to some key destinations, the old city (Pink city), city palace, and eventually Amber Fort, I was definitely not getting a good vibe from him. I thought this on 2 occasions 1.) when he brought us to a textile factory, he's clearly commissioned 2.) when he started telling obscure dirty jokes. We had to get out of this.
Luckily, or not so luckily, we ran in to some 20 something Indian guys who unlike the 400 other people at Amber Palace that wanted to take pictures with us, actually asked us to take a picture of them. They seemed pretty nice so we started talking to them, eventually they invited us to a wedding. Me being a little to accepting of people gladly agreed. They said they'd give us a ride back, and asked how we go there. After we told them a driver was asking for 250 they laughed "Everyone loves ripping off foreigners." Awesome.
The boys talked down the drive to 200, when he was actually asking us for 500! Earlier, he said he'd give the tour for 250 - failing to mention that actually meant 250 each. Then we drove away and stopped at a place to eat.
In my limited understanding of Hindi I started to deduce that maybe going to this wedding wasn't the best idea. Don't get me wrong, I would absolutely love to go to an Indian wedding, but these guys were being a little to off putting for my preference, definitely the whole whispering in Hindi thing they had going on. So we thanked them for the ride an ditched them. Happy that we saved atleast 300 + ruppees for the day!
Oh Amber Fort and City Palace?! Absolutely gorgeous. These structures were strikingly beautiful, and simply took your breath away. This experience is best described through pictures.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
24-6-2010: This is from Friday
Finals Tea Break
Today was my last day in India. The past two nights have been nothing short of a dream. I’m buzzing around India in the Hyundai of a lovely Turkish boy whom for some odd reasons absolutely adores me, and we’re heading to a Lebanese lounge and restaurant.
Early that day I had taken my first and last final at Christ college. In all honesty I wasn’t really trying, I wasn’t here to relearn everything that I had been learning about for years, so I didn’t really study or try particularly hard. What truly encapsulated Indian education system, and India in general, was half way through when beloved Jacob John stopped us and said “You’ll have somosa’s and tea now?” In came a boy carrying a bag of somosa’s and a thermostat of tea. Only in India.
Aftter that we climbed to the top level of the building to watch a dance performance going down in the hallway below, then we decided that since it’s our last day we’re just going to climb on the roof. The view was spectacular. The sky looked better than a painting, and you could see the tops of all the exotic and colorful trees that lined the walkways and paths of our school. I couldn’t possibly imagine a better way to end my time in Bangalore. Everything about this day is beautiful.
Today was my last day in India. The past two nights have been nothing short of a dream. I’m buzzing around India in the Hyundai of a lovely Turkish boy whom for some odd reasons absolutely adores me, and we’re heading to a Lebanese lounge and restaurant.
Early that day I had taken my first and last final at Christ college. In all honesty I wasn’t really trying, I wasn’t here to relearn everything that I had been learning about for years, so I didn’t really study or try particularly hard. What truly encapsulated Indian education system, and India in general, was half way through when beloved Jacob John stopped us and said “You’ll have somosa’s and tea now?” In came a boy carrying a bag of somosa’s and a thermostat of tea. Only in India.
Aftter that we climbed to the top level of the building to watch a dance performance going down in the hallway below, then we decided that since it’s our last day we’re just going to climb on the roof. The view was spectacular. The sky looked better than a painting, and you could see the tops of all the exotic and colorful trees that lined the walkways and paths of our school. I couldn’t possibly imagine a better way to end my time in Bangalore. Everything about this day is beautiful.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Beginning to say goodbye
Yesterday we had our goodbye lunch with Florence and Jacob John. The lunch solidified that I was indeed leaving India in a week...I can't believe it has already been a month! I think about being here a couple weeks ago and how I was homesick, concerned about money, missing my friends - now I don't even want to think about leaving! I'm finally settled in India and I have to be stripped away!
As to distract myself from my slight depression over leaving I'll talk about the goodbye lunch.
Jacob John brought us to one of his favorite restaurants for a buffet called Mustard. The buffet had my favorite chat type nachos - you cannot imagine how tasty. They also had Bengali fish (9/10), Bengali style Paneer (8/10), yellow daal with chili (7/10), and assorted fried rice, basmati, rasham, and mung. The desserts were definitely the highlight of the buffet...an unbelievable kiwi souffle (10/10), carrot halwa (9/19), and the best mango ice-cream I've had in India. Great going away lunch.
After we headed back to campus and got some comfy Christ University sweatshirts, how I'm going to squeeze that in my bag I have no idea. Next came class then a Crafts Bazaar with some friends. The Crafts Bazaar hosted crafts from all over India, mostly from Rajasthan. Since I'm going to Rajasthan I didn't want to buy too much, I just got some shoes, a little jewelry, and some gifts for friends. I'm pretty sure (absolutely sure) I got ripped off on the shoes, he orginally tried to sell them to me for 400 ruppees (asburd! That's about $8 USD), but I got him down to 300 ruppees...still over priced but what the hell they're pretty.
The day ended fantastically with USA beating Algeria by 1 which means we are first in our bracket and moving on to the playoff rounds!! U S A
As to distract myself from my slight depression over leaving I'll talk about the goodbye lunch.
Jacob John brought us to one of his favorite restaurants for a buffet called Mustard. The buffet had my favorite chat type nachos - you cannot imagine how tasty. They also had Bengali fish (9/10), Bengali style Paneer (8/10), yellow daal with chili (7/10), and assorted fried rice, basmati, rasham, and mung. The desserts were definitely the highlight of the buffet...an unbelievable kiwi souffle (10/10), carrot halwa (9/19), and the best mango ice-cream I've had in India. Great going away lunch.
After we headed back to campus and got some comfy Christ University sweatshirts, how I'm going to squeeze that in my bag I have no idea. Next came class then a Crafts Bazaar with some friends. The Crafts Bazaar hosted crafts from all over India, mostly from Rajasthan. Since I'm going to Rajasthan I didn't want to buy too much, I just got some shoes, a little jewelry, and some gifts for friends. I'm pretty sure (absolutely sure) I got ripped off on the shoes, he orginally tried to sell them to me for 400 ruppees (asburd! That's about $8 USD), but I got him down to 300 ruppees...still over priced but what the hell they're pretty.
The day ended fantastically with USA beating Algeria by 1 which means we are first in our bracket and moving on to the playoff rounds!! U S A
Summary of this past weekend...kind of
Tuesday June 22, 2010
Okay, back to this weekend. This weekend was by all standards completely absurd. Beginning with Friday.
So Friday I had promised a fellow USAC student that I would go out with her to some club or lounge with her and some friends. By 7:30 there were about 12 people attending this gathering. This figure was fine until we had to catch a rickshaw. Four people squeezed into individual rickshaws – similar to our 6 rickshaw excursion a couple nights earlier. Though this time our rickshaw driver was absolutely insane. First, he almost hit Aleisha before we even got on the road, then he almost hit every other car or truck on the road. Quite the frightening experience.
We finally arrive outside the club, which is actually a hotel (in true Indian style), and the first thing I do is fall out of the rickshaw. I hadn’t even started drinking…this would be bad.
As to not bore you I’ll do a summary of the club. It was absolutely gorgeous. Easily a high end bar/lounge in America. Drinks were around $10-$15 USD, but in all honestly that kind of atmosphere would be around $30 a drink. Yes, that is how nice and immaculate the location was. I brushed off the absurdity and decided to do as Lady Gaga does and just dance. It’s always better that way. The DJ proved to be amazing by the way...
Eventually I met a guy who bought me and my friends some drinks, he was nice, worked for JP Morgan & Chase (didn’t find that out till I looked at his card later). Then I meant a nice Turkish boy. He seemed sweet and harmless, he was with his two Turkish friends. We talked for the rest of the night, them in their broken Turkish English, me in my broken drunk English.
At one point the club/restaurant/hotel set up a tasty looking buffet. At the time I ha d yet to become drunk hungry so I didn’t gorge, but some other USACers went up and started grabbing things. We kept asking if the buffet was free/complimentary and we kept hearing that indeed it was, so I ate a really tasty carrot truffle and some chat nachos - by far one of my favorite snacks in India. It was probably some of the best food I’ve had in India so far…side note. Well, in true Bangalorian fashion the club closed at 11:30 sharp. The Turkish boys asked to get coffee, but seeing as we just meant them in Bangalore and we were naïve Americans we declined.
At that point I realized that I had left my scarf inside, I went to go grab it from the bar area and when I stepped back out through the door Nick (a USAC student) grabbed my arm and said “We have to go now!”. Apparently the buffet was not free at all. In fact, it was 650 ruppees each. I didn’t even have 650 ruppees in my wallet. Apparently, neither did anyone else, so we were trying to skip out on the bill. We all ran outside, but of course we were stopped by the servers. Everyone had to dish out some cash for the tricky buffet and then the hotel manager said he would help us get a cab home.
After paying 625 for a drink and throwing in money for a buffet, I was not about to pay another cent for anything this hotel had to offer. I saw one of the Turkish boys getting into his car, thought to myself “fuck it, if you die atleast you didn’t have to pay 200 ruppees for a cab.” I asked him if he could take me to Kormangala, he said yes, and I beckoned for my friends to come with me.
Thus began our friendship with Fatik, Emri, and Hiyati! My favorite Turkish friends (only Turkish friends) and our guides for the rest of the time in Bangalore. We got coffee with them that night at a 24 hour rooftop restaurant and we hung out with them again on Sunday.
In between that time I had quite the reality check. Some students traveled to a nearby village, Hospote. The village as a whole compromised about 14 smaller villages – communities anywhere from 300-1000 peoples. We went to one of these 14 villages to meet the kids, see the programs that particular NGO is developing. The long and short of it, it was absolutely amazing and if I could drop everything I’m doing right now and move to a village and just play and teach adorable kids every day I would do it in a heartbeat. The children were fantastic! They were so excited to see us and play with us, they brought us to their homes and showed us around the village. No, we couldn’t speak the language at all so communication was mostly transmitting through hand gestures, hugs, and behavioral keys. I think that added to the enjoyment of the trip,
Recently I had lost faith in NGO's, most of the time the money donated and raised by the organizations just goes into paying the salaries of the college junkies - those kids who didn't quite know what they wanted to do after college so they settled for an NGO. The money rarely ever goes to actually helping anyone or the betterment of a program. However, this NGO actually had results. You could see it in the health of the families and children, and in the village as a whole. The organization we worked with was the same one Bill Gates and his wife donate to. I can imagine why. It's run flawlessly and the people who work there are truly dedicated to there work.
I hope to sponsor a family in the slums or the village when I return to America. Definitely a life changing experience. Definitely.
Okay, back to this weekend. This weekend was by all standards completely absurd. Beginning with Friday.
So Friday I had promised a fellow USAC student that I would go out with her to some club or lounge with her and some friends. By 7:30 there were about 12 people attending this gathering. This figure was fine until we had to catch a rickshaw. Four people squeezed into individual rickshaws – similar to our 6 rickshaw excursion a couple nights earlier. Though this time our rickshaw driver was absolutely insane. First, he almost hit Aleisha before we even got on the road, then he almost hit every other car or truck on the road. Quite the frightening experience.
We finally arrive outside the club, which is actually a hotel (in true Indian style), and the first thing I do is fall out of the rickshaw. I hadn’t even started drinking…this would be bad.
As to not bore you I’ll do a summary of the club. It was absolutely gorgeous. Easily a high end bar/lounge in America. Drinks were around $10-$15 USD, but in all honestly that kind of atmosphere would be around $30 a drink. Yes, that is how nice and immaculate the location was. I brushed off the absurdity and decided to do as Lady Gaga does and just dance. It’s always better that way. The DJ proved to be amazing by the way...
Eventually I met a guy who bought me and my friends some drinks, he was nice, worked for JP Morgan & Chase (didn’t find that out till I looked at his card later). Then I meant a nice Turkish boy. He seemed sweet and harmless, he was with his two Turkish friends. We talked for the rest of the night, them in their broken Turkish English, me in my broken drunk English.
At one point the club/restaurant/hotel set up a tasty looking buffet. At the time I ha d yet to become drunk hungry so I didn’t gorge, but some other USACers went up and started grabbing things. We kept asking if the buffet was free/complimentary and we kept hearing that indeed it was, so I ate a really tasty carrot truffle and some chat nachos - by far one of my favorite snacks in India. It was probably some of the best food I’ve had in India so far…side note. Well, in true Bangalorian fashion the club closed at 11:30 sharp. The Turkish boys asked to get coffee, but seeing as we just meant them in Bangalore and we were naïve Americans we declined.
At that point I realized that I had left my scarf inside, I went to go grab it from the bar area and when I stepped back out through the door Nick (a USAC student) grabbed my arm and said “We have to go now!”. Apparently the buffet was not free at all. In fact, it was 650 ruppees each. I didn’t even have 650 ruppees in my wallet. Apparently, neither did anyone else, so we were trying to skip out on the bill. We all ran outside, but of course we were stopped by the servers. Everyone had to dish out some cash for the tricky buffet and then the hotel manager said he would help us get a cab home.
After paying 625 for a drink and throwing in money for a buffet, I was not about to pay another cent for anything this hotel had to offer. I saw one of the Turkish boys getting into his car, thought to myself “fuck it, if you die atleast you didn’t have to pay 200 ruppees for a cab.” I asked him if he could take me to Kormangala, he said yes, and I beckoned for my friends to come with me.
Thus began our friendship with Fatik, Emri, and Hiyati! My favorite Turkish friends (only Turkish friends) and our guides for the rest of the time in Bangalore. We got coffee with them that night at a 24 hour rooftop restaurant and we hung out with them again on Sunday.
In between that time I had quite the reality check. Some students traveled to a nearby village, Hospote. The village as a whole compromised about 14 smaller villages – communities anywhere from 300-1000 peoples. We went to one of these 14 villages to meet the kids, see the programs that particular NGO is developing. The long and short of it, it was absolutely amazing and if I could drop everything I’m doing right now and move to a village and just play and teach adorable kids every day I would do it in a heartbeat. The children were fantastic! They were so excited to see us and play with us, they brought us to their homes and showed us around the village. No, we couldn’t speak the language at all so communication was mostly transmitting through hand gestures, hugs, and behavioral keys. I think that added to the enjoyment of the trip,
Recently I had lost faith in NGO's, most of the time the money donated and raised by the organizations just goes into paying the salaries of the college junkies - those kids who didn't quite know what they wanted to do after college so they settled for an NGO. The money rarely ever goes to actually helping anyone or the betterment of a program. However, this NGO actually had results. You could see it in the health of the families and children, and in the village as a whole. The organization we worked with was the same one Bill Gates and his wife donate to. I can imagine why. It's run flawlessly and the people who work there are truly dedicated to there work.
I hope to sponsor a family in the slums or the village when I return to America. Definitely a life changing experience. Definitely.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Village life
We went to a village outside Bangalore this weekend. It was probably one of the greatest experiences of my life. I'll write about it more after class because I'm definitely late!!
Here's pictures
me and some village kids
cow
Here's pictures
me and some village kids
cow
Monday, June 14, 2010
This is what Happened 6/8/2010
Aleisha and I decided that it was a good idea to leave our apartment and go search for some fellow USAC students. This simple decision would have been quite the norm if not for the following:
• Neither of us have keys to our apartment
• The door automatically locks once closed
• Neither of us have cell phones
• Neither of us have internet
• We knew that everyone else was going out to dinner
• We secretly had a feeling that noone would be home
So we were locked out of NGV, completely abandoned and homeless. I am wearing black tights and a USAC t-shirt that doesn't quite cover my ass. My hair is in pigtails and I’m carrying around my laptop. Not an ideal situation.
After walked around the streets of Kormangala for a bit we decided to hang out in Kiwi Kiss/Booster Juice…the Indian idea of a Jamba Juice.
Being stranded has given me some time to catch up on my blogging, so good news you get to hear about some observations I have made about India.
If I had more than $10000 to my name, I would be investing in Indian businesses in a heart beat. India is on the verge of booming - if not already there. Its rate of development is startling, its middle class finally making a name for itself. Take for instance the frozen yogurt and juice bar I’m sitting in. It’s impeccably clean, a cup of frozen yogurt cost me 67 ruppees (about $1.50), and the service is on point, this place would be booming back home. And as soon as the middle class begins to make a dent in the Indian economy places like this will constantly be in demand.
Obviously the population is the first factor that ensures economic success, Bangalore alone has 6.5 million people and it’s not even the largest city in Indian. The market is so vast that even if you get 20% of the population in Bangalore you’re still getting over 10 million consumers. It’s almost impossible to fail here, that is why investing in any business would most likely prove lucrative. Me…I’d probably choose some type of F&B chain, though I adamantly oppose this in the states.
In India though, everything is different. Regardless of expansion and constant changes in supply and demand, everyone still makes everything fresh at probably 95% of its restaurants.
The thing I love about Indians is that they are stubborn, they like their food a certain way and if it’s not that way then they simply won’t buy it. The market has no choice but to conform to THEIR need, rather than the population conforming to the markets.
That's all I got right now sorry!
• Neither of us have keys to our apartment
• The door automatically locks once closed
• Neither of us have cell phones
• Neither of us have internet
• We knew that everyone else was going out to dinner
• We secretly had a feeling that noone would be home
So we were locked out of NGV, completely abandoned and homeless. I am wearing black tights and a USAC t-shirt that doesn't quite cover my ass. My hair is in pigtails and I’m carrying around my laptop. Not an ideal situation.
After walked around the streets of Kormangala for a bit we decided to hang out in Kiwi Kiss/Booster Juice…the Indian idea of a Jamba Juice.
Being stranded has given me some time to catch up on my blogging, so good news you get to hear about some observations I have made about India.
If I had more than $10000 to my name, I would be investing in Indian businesses in a heart beat. India is on the verge of booming - if not already there. Its rate of development is startling, its middle class finally making a name for itself. Take for instance the frozen yogurt and juice bar I’m sitting in. It’s impeccably clean, a cup of frozen yogurt cost me 67 ruppees (about $1.50), and the service is on point, this place would be booming back home. And as soon as the middle class begins to make a dent in the Indian economy places like this will constantly be in demand.
Obviously the population is the first factor that ensures economic success, Bangalore alone has 6.5 million people and it’s not even the largest city in Indian. The market is so vast that even if you get 20% of the population in Bangalore you’re still getting over 10 million consumers. It’s almost impossible to fail here, that is why investing in any business would most likely prove lucrative. Me…I’d probably choose some type of F&B chain, though I adamantly oppose this in the states.
In India though, everything is different. Regardless of expansion and constant changes in supply and demand, everyone still makes everything fresh at probably 95% of its restaurants.
The thing I love about Indians is that they are stubborn, they like their food a certain way and if it’s not that way then they simply won’t buy it. The market has no choice but to conform to THEIR need, rather than the population conforming to the markets.
That's all I got right now sorry!
Monday June 7, 2010
Today we learned about how silk is produced. Millions of silk worms die in order for silk to be produced. Did you know that hippies?
Monday, June 7, 2010
Ooty - land of tea plantations and a thread garden
In the past 24 hours (Saturday night 10:00 PM - Sunday night 10:00 PM) I have been to the Western Ghats, slept outside an elephant reserve, ate street corn and a street carrot, got whipped in the face with a horses tail, saw the most beautiful scenery in all of India, as well as the most bizarre, and jammed to '90's music through most of it.
Let's begin on Saturday. Two boys and myself had been planning on traveling to Ooty for the whole week. They had told me that not only was it absolutely gorgeous, but it was where many Bollywood movies where shot. Needless to say, I was sold.
First things first, I googled the town to get the low down, see if it was worth the trip. Everything checked out, and I then googled bus tickets, bus leaves at 10:18 Saturday night, 8.5 hour trip. Perfect.
Then comes Saturday. Suddenly our trip of 3 people had grown to about 11. We had no real idea who was going, I just knew when we had to leave and where our destination was. Come 8:30 when we were all supposed to move out, Hari, Aleisha, and myself were told that we were not taking a bus to Ooty. In the passed couple of hours it had been decided that we were now taking a van, it would be 1050 Ruppees each (the bus ticket was 300), and we were leaving at 10:00. Okay. What could we do though? It’s India! I just went with the flow.
In true India fashion our driver didn’t show up till 10:45, I didn’t quite mind, I had just taken a Benydryl I expected to be out within the hour. What I did not expect, however, was that India loves speed bumps. See, in order for the Bangalore police force to do as little work as possible in enforcing the speed limit, the city instead puts literally thousands of speed bumps throughout and around the city. The benydryl may have made me incredibly drowsy, but every speed bump left my wide-eyed and confused. Every. Single. Speed bump.
If the speed bumps were not hell bent on denying me sleep, the 1998 Britney Spears in Hawaii video proved even more determined. At some point between Bangalore and Mysore the movie changed to Ratatouille then to Meet the Robinsons. Thankfully, the movie cut off close to the end, finally leaving us with a fair amount of silence.
I had no idea what time it was, about a week ago I decided to abandon the luxury of knowing the time, and opted out for merely knowing in passing or simply not knowing at all. All I know is that it was extremely dark outside when we drove up to a closed gate. I realized that it was extremely late when the van backed up. I realized that I would not be sleeping ever when the van was shut off and the driver dozed off.
Manny Moon, our beloved Hispanic study abroad bhai, somehow interpreted that we were outside of an elephant reserve and the gate would not be open till 6:00 AM. He assured us that this “is a once in a lifetime experience” and that “this is unlike any slumber party” that he has ever been too. Those comforting words helped me fall asleep immediately.
Unfortunately I didn’t. Did I mention that we stopped around 3:30? For 2 and a half hours I had to somehow situate myself in an uncomfortable van seat that though reclined, somehow always ended up in the upright position in 2 minutes time.
During the 8-14 minutes that I estimate I slept, I had a strange dream about being on the van. Looking back, it may or may not have been a dream – the dream was about the van we were currently in. I think I was just hoping it was to trick myself into thinking that I slept.
When I did “wake up” I saw Manny outside with about 6 Indian people. I mumbled that Manny had run of with some guys, but no one responded, In actuality I probably A. mumbled the words so low rendering them unrecognizable or B. said it in my head – I was slowly losing touch with reality. I knew that sleep was not an option, so I grabbed my camera and followed Manny. I found him surrounded by around 15 people, who subsequently asked for me to take their picture with Manny. Suddenly he was surrounded by 20+ Indians all posing thug life style.
After the picture we peaced out immediately. The sun was rising so it had to have been around 6:00, we still had another 10 minutes but we needed to be ready…and away from the group of people who were now following me.
The early mornings in Karnataka/Tamil Nadu Elephant reserve was rather beautiful. Seeing the ecological variability was like experiencing an episode of Earth. Laugh if you must but let me explain myself, I’ve seen places like these on television and in National Geography, and it’s an amazing feeling to actually see that places like this do exist. I could hardly believe there existed sites this naturally beautiful and breathtaking. From this moment till the scary Boat Lake in Ooty, I had this reoccurring feeling.
We first went to this lookout that had a gorgeous view of the Ooty. The valley looked like a cross between Switzerland, the smokey mountains, with the colors of India thrown in. It was vast and wonderful. While waiting in line I was asked if someone could get a picture of me, this would happen again and again as the day went on…
Next we traveled to a tea factory, where we also discovered that the strange noise that sounded like our right tire going flat was actually the sound of our right tire going flat. As we went to explore the tea factory our trusty guide changed the tire right quick.
At this point everything sort of went down hill. We ended up at Ooty’s version of a tourist trap. The Thread Garden. This place, and experience, was equivalent to seeing the World Largest Ball of Yarn (why did I capitalize that?), I refused to pay the entrance fee – if they kick me out so be it. They didn’t even ask for it, we were just show a very strange garden that was apparently made out of thread. It looked cool. I wanted to leave.
We couldn’t leave though, the boys had decided to rent paddle boats
Let's begin on Saturday. Two boys and myself had been planning on traveling to Ooty for the whole week. They had told me that not only was it absolutely gorgeous, but it was where many Bollywood movies where shot. Needless to say, I was sold.
First things first, I googled the town to get the low down, see if it was worth the trip. Everything checked out, and I then googled bus tickets, bus leaves at 10:18 Saturday night, 8.5 hour trip. Perfect.
Then comes Saturday. Suddenly our trip of 3 people had grown to about 11. We had no real idea who was going, I just knew when we had to leave and where our destination was. Come 8:30 when we were all supposed to move out, Hari, Aleisha, and myself were told that we were not taking a bus to Ooty. In the passed couple of hours it had been decided that we were now taking a van, it would be 1050 Ruppees each (the bus ticket was 300), and we were leaving at 10:00. Okay. What could we do though? It’s India! I just went with the flow.
In true India fashion our driver didn’t show up till 10:45, I didn’t quite mind, I had just taken a Benydryl I expected to be out within the hour. What I did not expect, however, was that India loves speed bumps. See, in order for the Bangalore police force to do as little work as possible in enforcing the speed limit, the city instead puts literally thousands of speed bumps throughout and around the city. The benydryl may have made me incredibly drowsy, but every speed bump left my wide-eyed and confused. Every. Single. Speed bump.
If the speed bumps were not hell bent on denying me sleep, the 1998 Britney Spears in Hawaii video proved even more determined. At some point between Bangalore and Mysore the movie changed to Ratatouille then to Meet the Robinsons. Thankfully, the movie cut off close to the end, finally leaving us with a fair amount of silence.
I had no idea what time it was, about a week ago I decided to abandon the luxury of knowing the time, and opted out for merely knowing in passing or simply not knowing at all. All I know is that it was extremely dark outside when we drove up to a closed gate. I realized that it was extremely late when the van backed up. I realized that I would not be sleeping ever when the van was shut off and the driver dozed off.
Manny Moon, our beloved Hispanic study abroad bhai, somehow interpreted that we were outside of an elephant reserve and the gate would not be open till 6:00 AM. He assured us that this “is a once in a lifetime experience” and that “this is unlike any slumber party” that he has ever been too. Those comforting words helped me fall asleep immediately.
Unfortunately I didn’t. Did I mention that we stopped around 3:30? For 2 and a half hours I had to somehow situate myself in an uncomfortable van seat that though reclined, somehow always ended up in the upright position in 2 minutes time.
During the 8-14 minutes that I estimate I slept, I had a strange dream about being on the van. Looking back, it may or may not have been a dream – the dream was about the van we were currently in. I think I was just hoping it was to trick myself into thinking that I slept.
When I did “wake up” I saw Manny outside with about 6 Indian people. I mumbled that Manny had run of with some guys, but no one responded, In actuality I probably A. mumbled the words so low rendering them unrecognizable or B. said it in my head – I was slowly losing touch with reality. I knew that sleep was not an option, so I grabbed my camera and followed Manny. I found him surrounded by around 15 people, who subsequently asked for me to take their picture with Manny. Suddenly he was surrounded by 20+ Indians all posing thug life style.
After the picture we peaced out immediately. The sun was rising so it had to have been around 6:00, we still had another 10 minutes but we needed to be ready…and away from the group of people who were now following me.
The early mornings in Karnataka/Tamil Nadu Elephant reserve was rather beautiful. Seeing the ecological variability was like experiencing an episode of Earth. Laugh if you must but let me explain myself, I’ve seen places like these on television and in National Geography, and it’s an amazing feeling to actually see that places like this do exist. I could hardly believe there existed sites this naturally beautiful and breathtaking. From this moment till the scary Boat Lake in Ooty, I had this reoccurring feeling.
We first went to this lookout that had a gorgeous view of the Ooty. The valley looked like a cross between Switzerland, the smokey mountains, with the colors of India thrown in. It was vast and wonderful. While waiting in line I was asked if someone could get a picture of me, this would happen again and again as the day went on…
Next we traveled to a tea factory, where we also discovered that the strange noise that sounded like our right tire going flat was actually the sound of our right tire going flat. As we went to explore the tea factory our trusty guide changed the tire right quick.
At this point everything sort of went down hill. We ended up at Ooty’s version of a tourist trap. The Thread Garden. This place, and experience, was equivalent to seeing the World Largest Ball of Yarn (why did I capitalize that?), I refused to pay the entrance fee – if they kick me out so be it. They didn’t even ask for it, we were just show a very strange garden that was apparently made out of thread. It looked cool. I wanted to leave.
We couldn’t leave though, the boys had decided to rent paddle boats
Saturday, June 5, 2010
I still love mangos
Wednesday June 2, 2010
I have two library books due in 2 days. They’re sitting next to me right now, in India. Probably should have thought this through a bit more, I can renew the books. If I renew them Friday I’ll have 3 weeks to return them. To bad in 3 weeks I’ll still be in India. I can try to renew them again after that, but I’m assuming there’s probably some type or restriction there. Looks like I’ll be a little in the hole when I get back to the states.
Today I finally got internet access at Christ University! Bad news, Christ University does not allow you to go on facebook (seriously? Is this high school), but hell atleast I can go on twitter, check my e-mail, see that I have late fees slowly accumulating…and of course discover that I’m allergic to the sap on mango skin! For the past two days there has been this strange, bumpy, rash around my mouth causing my already large lips to swell to duck like proportions – try to imagine that shit. I thought about everything I have eaten or drank in the past couple of days, trying to pinpoint anything out of the ordinary that would have caused this type of reaction. I deduced that it was probably the banana chips I had eaten the other day, either the Indian bananas or the coconut oil that were fried in. Secretly I wished neither because A. I love bananas B. I love coconut everything more than I love bananas.
Well thankfully I got the interenet and the power of google was in my hands. I googled “itchy, red rash around mouth India” the first site said “mango allergy”, I thought this was absurd I had been eating mangos like candy since I had arrived in India. However, after reading though the site I found that many people whom are allergic to poison ivy (hey, that’s me!) are also allergic to the skin of mangos. The same type of chemical is found on both. Who would of thought? Most people would have been pissed, definitely when someone had told them about her mom being allergic to both mangos and poison ivy 2 days previously, but me. No. It’s going to take more than allergic reactions, two days of 101 temperature, mosquito bites, lower back pain, bad hair days everyday, and cockroachs to make me hate this place. I still love it here. I can’t wait till I wake up with no ailments so I can fully appreciate it.
I have two library books due in 2 days. They’re sitting next to me right now, in India. Probably should have thought this through a bit more, I can renew the books. If I renew them Friday I’ll have 3 weeks to return them. To bad in 3 weeks I’ll still be in India. I can try to renew them again after that, but I’m assuming there’s probably some type or restriction there. Looks like I’ll be a little in the hole when I get back to the states.
Today I finally got internet access at Christ University! Bad news, Christ University does not allow you to go on facebook (seriously? Is this high school), but hell atleast I can go on twitter, check my e-mail, see that I have late fees slowly accumulating…and of course discover that I’m allergic to the sap on mango skin! For the past two days there has been this strange, bumpy, rash around my mouth causing my already large lips to swell to duck like proportions – try to imagine that shit. I thought about everything I have eaten or drank in the past couple of days, trying to pinpoint anything out of the ordinary that would have caused this type of reaction. I deduced that it was probably the banana chips I had eaten the other day, either the Indian bananas or the coconut oil that were fried in. Secretly I wished neither because A. I love bananas B. I love coconut everything more than I love bananas.
Well thankfully I got the interenet and the power of google was in my hands. I googled “itchy, red rash around mouth India” the first site said “mango allergy”, I thought this was absurd I had been eating mangos like candy since I had arrived in India. However, after reading though the site I found that many people whom are allergic to poison ivy (hey, that’s me!) are also allergic to the skin of mangos. The same type of chemical is found on both. Who would of thought? Most people would have been pissed, definitely when someone had told them about her mom being allergic to both mangos and poison ivy 2 days previously, but me. No. It’s going to take more than allergic reactions, two days of 101 temperature, mosquito bites, lower back pain, bad hair days everyday, and cockroachs to make me hate this place. I still love it here. I can’t wait till I wake up with no ailments so I can fully appreciate it.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
I'm finally sick
May 29, 2010
I’m sitting in my apartment in Bangalore watching Slumdog Millionaire. Ironic? First off, I hate this movie, but when my options are Airheads, The Black Cauldron, or a plethora of Bollywood and Tamil movies (all in Hindi or Tamil with no English subtitles) you have to take what you can get. It’s been awhile, and yesterdays post wasn’t too descriptive, so I’ll detail the past 20ish hours for you.
Yesterday, after our whirlwind tour of Bangalore we went to the police station to get our residency permits. Why we need this? I have no idea, but it’s India so vhatever. We got there around 3:30 and waited in a marble shack-type building along with other hopefules – an elder Indian man who stared at us, an old aunty, 2 Europeans from the ‘80s(?). At about 4:30 we were told by Florence – our awesome aunty director - to start lining up. We were shuffled into a small roped off section infront of the building. About 30 people were in this area and the number only increased. Citizens from Thailand, the Maldives, America, and Japan were all anxiously awaiting to be let through the ropes and the receive our various permits and visas. We were supposed to be let in at 4:30, at 5:00 we were all impatiently still waiting. As time creeped on I got a peak inside the office…they were doing a pooja. Are you kidding me? We were supposed to be let in almost 45 minutes ago and you’re doing a pooja?
We were finally let in and filed behind our respective lines. I thought this what it, I’m finally getting my residential permit! But nope, pooja was still going on and now everyone was eating food and laughing while 50+ people anxiously awaited, to what? Sign 2 pieces of paper. We waited 2 and a half hours to sign 2 pieces of paper.
At this point I felt like absolute shit. I was exhausted, tired, hot, and slightly irritated, but I refused to let it get to me! Just let me get home and life will be better. Well, we got home, I grabbed my laptop and we headed to Mocha our new coffee shop hangout. After an excruciating conversation with the sexist employees we finally got some Internet. Blah, blah, blah I went on facebook, checked my e-mail, had no desire to do anything else that night, seriously planned on going home and hopefully passing out.
But of course drinking is more important, and we went on journey to find a bar. We find our little oasis in the form of 70’s rock and 80’s hair metal with a little dose of A7X and audioslave, odd mixture? You bet your ass. We spent around an hour demolishing 2 towers (I think about 2 liters) of Fosters beer. Indian beer. Let me begin to describe this for you. So far in India I have seen mostly two types of beer, Kingfisher and Fosters. For a beer snob like me this place is hell, and when we finally stumbled upon this bar that was supposed to be a “beer bar” I was pretty ecstatic. However, beer bar in India does not mean a wide selection of beers, it means 1 type of beer (Fosters) that is mixed in a myriad of ways. So Fosters we drank! It tasted a little better than Kingfisher – Kingfisher taste like flat miller light – and made do since there were no other alcohol selections of the menu.
When we got back I was dead. My back has been killing me for the past couple of days, but this time it was excruciating. I could barely move without being in a disturbing amount of pain. I popped an Advil and tried to sleep. I probably slept about 2 hours total – factoring in the numerous times I woke up and tried to situate myself of my poor excuse for a mattress. I remember one time in high school I passed out on a cement drive way. That driveway was more comfortable than my bed. I’m seriously considering going outside and making a new bed out of coconut leaves, it would be more comfortable and probably smell better. I woke up at about 6:00 to tell some fellow study abroaders that I couldn’t make the trip to Mysore today. I was pretty upset, but with my back pain and over all discomfort going on a trip for the day would not have been conducive to…living.
Instead, I went back to my plywood bed and tried to get some rest. After an extremely lucid dream, I’ve been having many of those lately, I woke up around 8:00. At this point my body hurt pretty much all over, my chest, my back, my arms, my toes. You know that feeling you feel when you’re about to get sick? Yeah, that’s what I’ve been feeling all morning. I forced myself to make some tea, boiling some water on our old school gas stove. Well, it’s not quite a stove., there’s two burners connected to a ominous gas container. As I was washing a tea press in the sink I noticed a cockroach laying by one of the pots. I’m pretty much numb to cockroaches at this point, but I was startled nonetheless. He wasn’t moving though and I didn’t have the energy or desire to do away with him. I periodically checked up on him, I’m trying to acclimate myself to cockroach’s so maybe at some point I can kill one myself.
Well my friend started moving his antennas at one point. Breeze, yes, must be the wind moving them. Then he started moving his gross ass legs, then I smashed him with a pot.
My flat mates wanted to go to the worlds craft fair to peruse, buy, and spectate, I would have loved to go if my whole body didn’t feel like one big ache. I stayed home with a heated water bottle on my back, and got to see both Mr. Anil our housing director whom communicates mostly by shaking his head, and a maid. The door bell rang earlier and I answered it only to find a 4’ 10” Indian woman with a mop and a bucket. I though she had come to clean the apartment, since maids are supposed to come twice a week, but she just pointed to the bucket and the floor. I had no idea what she meant, and her speaking Tamil and me speaking English did not help the situation at all. I somehow deduced that she needed water in her bucket. Maybe she was going to clean our apartment! Nope, the hallway. We still have a dirty ass apartment.
Well, now Im still painfully sitting in my living room about halfway through Slumdog Millionaire. I’ll probably venture out and find some elusive internet so I can post this, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll eat something. Though I don’t quite know if my stomach is up for that at the moment.
I’m sitting in my apartment in Bangalore watching Slumdog Millionaire. Ironic? First off, I hate this movie, but when my options are Airheads, The Black Cauldron, or a plethora of Bollywood and Tamil movies (all in Hindi or Tamil with no English subtitles) you have to take what you can get. It’s been awhile, and yesterdays post wasn’t too descriptive, so I’ll detail the past 20ish hours for you.
Yesterday, after our whirlwind tour of Bangalore we went to the police station to get our residency permits. Why we need this? I have no idea, but it’s India so vhatever. We got there around 3:30 and waited in a marble shack-type building along with other hopefules – an elder Indian man who stared at us, an old aunty, 2 Europeans from the ‘80s(?). At about 4:30 we were told by Florence – our awesome aunty director - to start lining up. We were shuffled into a small roped off section infront of the building. About 30 people were in this area and the number only increased. Citizens from Thailand, the Maldives, America, and Japan were all anxiously awaiting to be let through the ropes and the receive our various permits and visas. We were supposed to be let in at 4:30, at 5:00 we were all impatiently still waiting. As time creeped on I got a peak inside the office…they were doing a pooja. Are you kidding me? We were supposed to be let in almost 45 minutes ago and you’re doing a pooja?
We were finally let in and filed behind our respective lines. I thought this what it, I’m finally getting my residential permit! But nope, pooja was still going on and now everyone was eating food and laughing while 50+ people anxiously awaited, to what? Sign 2 pieces of paper. We waited 2 and a half hours to sign 2 pieces of paper.
At this point I felt like absolute shit. I was exhausted, tired, hot, and slightly irritated, but I refused to let it get to me! Just let me get home and life will be better. Well, we got home, I grabbed my laptop and we headed to Mocha our new coffee shop hangout. After an excruciating conversation with the sexist employees we finally got some Internet. Blah, blah, blah I went on facebook, checked my e-mail, had no desire to do anything else that night, seriously planned on going home and hopefully passing out.
But of course drinking is more important, and we went on journey to find a bar. We find our little oasis in the form of 70’s rock and 80’s hair metal with a little dose of A7X and audioslave, odd mixture? You bet your ass. We spent around an hour demolishing 2 towers (I think about 2 liters) of Fosters beer. Indian beer. Let me begin to describe this for you. So far in India I have seen mostly two types of beer, Kingfisher and Fosters. For a beer snob like me this place is hell, and when we finally stumbled upon this bar that was supposed to be a “beer bar” I was pretty ecstatic. However, beer bar in India does not mean a wide selection of beers, it means 1 type of beer (Fosters) that is mixed in a myriad of ways. So Fosters we drank! It tasted a little better than Kingfisher – Kingfisher taste like flat miller light – and made do since there were no other alcohol selections of the menu.
When we got back I was dead. My back has been killing me for the past couple of days, but this time it was excruciating. I could barely move without being in a disturbing amount of pain. I popped an Advil and tried to sleep. I probably slept about 2 hours total – factoring in the numerous times I woke up and tried to situate myself of my poor excuse for a mattress. I remember one time in high school I passed out on a cement drive way. That driveway was more comfortable than my bed. I’m seriously considering going outside and making a new bed out of coconut leaves, it would be more comfortable and probably smell better. I woke up at about 6:00 to tell some fellow study abroaders that I couldn’t make the trip to Mysore today. I was pretty upset, but with my back pain and over all discomfort going on a trip for the day would not have been conducive to…living.
Instead, I went back to my plywood bed and tried to get some rest. After an extremely lucid dream, I’ve been having many of those lately, I woke up around 8:00. At this point my body hurt pretty much all over, my chest, my back, my arms, my toes. You know that feeling you feel when you’re about to get sick? Yeah, that’s what I’ve been feeling all morning. I forced myself to make some tea, boiling some water on our old school gas stove. Well, it’s not quite a stove., there’s two burners connected to a ominous gas container. As I was washing a tea press in the sink I noticed a cockroach laying by one of the pots. I’m pretty much numb to cockroaches at this point, but I was startled nonetheless. He wasn’t moving though and I didn’t have the energy or desire to do away with him. I periodically checked up on him, I’m trying to acclimate myself to cockroach’s so maybe at some point I can kill one myself.
Well my friend started moving his antennas at one point. Breeze, yes, must be the wind moving them. Then he started moving his gross ass legs, then I smashed him with a pot.
My flat mates wanted to go to the worlds craft fair to peruse, buy, and spectate, I would have loved to go if my whole body didn’t feel like one big ache. I stayed home with a heated water bottle on my back, and got to see both Mr. Anil our housing director whom communicates mostly by shaking his head, and a maid. The door bell rang earlier and I answered it only to find a 4’ 10” Indian woman with a mop and a bucket. I though she had come to clean the apartment, since maids are supposed to come twice a week, but she just pointed to the bucket and the floor. I had no idea what she meant, and her speaking Tamil and me speaking English did not help the situation at all. I somehow deduced that she needed water in her bucket. Maybe she was going to clean our apartment! Nope, the hallway. We still have a dirty ass apartment.
Well, now Im still painfully sitting in my living room about halfway through Slumdog Millionaire. I’ll probably venture out and find some elusive internet so I can post this, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll eat something. Though I don’t quite know if my stomach is up for that at the moment.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Much catching up to do
So I haven't written in the longest time, mostly because I've been absurdly busy and tired. Right now I'm sitting in a rather cute little coffee shop in Bangalore. The people here are quite racist though...
On to the past couple days, I'll just start with yesterday. We went to this giant bazaar area and walked around for a good 4-5 hours. At one point I stepped into a questionable puddle of something...second time my left foot became engulfed in Indian street muck, but hey these things happen.
We left the bazaar and began looking for an auto rickshaw to drive us back to NGV (our subpar apartments...). We ended up befriending this social rickshaw driver, who in return absolutely loved us. He drove us around Bangalore, told us he'd only charge 10 ruppees, about 15 cents, to drive us back but we had to stop at certain stores. Apparently, the shop owners will pay rickshaw drivers extra to drive naive tourist to their stores. He said we didn't have to buy anything, we just had to look.
We went to these stores and were immediately swamped with attention and "How much you want pay?". It was difficult to decline, but I did. Mostly because I'm already short of money here.
By the end of the trip we found out just about everything about our cab driver. His name is Mohammad, he has 2 children - boy and girl - he's 38, and his wife is 28, he got married to here when she was only 18. We also found out that woman should get married when they are young 18-20. 25-years-old, way to old. No longer marriageable at that age. "By 20 you should have 3 kids"
Today
Today was nothing short of exhausting. It began at 6:30 in the morning when we started our trek to campus. We left around 7:15 and began our fast tour of Bangalore. It is a beautiful city. Up until it began to be ungodly hot, it was great to see the city and experience the various religious temples.
We went to The Krishna temple and it was nothing short of beautiful. After praying to the first two gods we went to the main temple - it house the 3 "main" gods Krishna being one of them. The alters were all made of pure gold, some of the statues had diamond tiaras and jewels. The smells permeating the air from the incense burners was enchanting, it put you in a completely heightened mental state.
On to the past couple days, I'll just start with yesterday. We went to this giant bazaar area and walked around for a good 4-5 hours. At one point I stepped into a questionable puddle of something...second time my left foot became engulfed in Indian street muck, but hey these things happen.
We left the bazaar and began looking for an auto rickshaw to drive us back to NGV (our subpar apartments...). We ended up befriending this social rickshaw driver, who in return absolutely loved us. He drove us around Bangalore, told us he'd only charge 10 ruppees, about 15 cents, to drive us back but we had to stop at certain stores. Apparently, the shop owners will pay rickshaw drivers extra to drive naive tourist to their stores. He said we didn't have to buy anything, we just had to look.
We went to these stores and were immediately swamped with attention and "How much you want pay?". It was difficult to decline, but I did. Mostly because I'm already short of money here.
By the end of the trip we found out just about everything about our cab driver. His name is Mohammad, he has 2 children - boy and girl - he's 38, and his wife is 28, he got married to here when she was only 18. We also found out that woman should get married when they are young 18-20. 25-years-old, way to old. No longer marriageable at that age. "By 20 you should have 3 kids"
Today
Today was nothing short of exhausting. It began at 6:30 in the morning when we started our trek to campus. We left around 7:15 and began our fast tour of Bangalore. It is a beautiful city. Up until it began to be ungodly hot, it was great to see the city and experience the various religious temples.
We went to The Krishna temple and it was nothing short of beautiful. After praying to the first two gods we went to the main temple - it house the 3 "main" gods Krishna being one of them. The alters were all made of pure gold, some of the statues had diamond tiaras and jewels. The smells permeating the air from the incense burners was enchanting, it put you in a completely heightened mental state.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
From Mumbai to Bangalore
POSTING DELAYED
Monday May 24, 2010
Chhatrapati Shivaji Airport is beautiful. The café area looks like an installation in Ikea, actually I’m pretty sure all of this furniture is from Ikea.
So that past couple of days? Where to begin?
Apparently I’ve been to the two most exclusive clubs in India. Fun.
We’ll start with Thursday. Thursday night I met up with Ankita to go out out. This was my first taxi ride alone, but I felt pretty effing confident for some strange reason. Before I left I checked out where Ankitas Aunties house to estimate how long it would take – and to make sure that my taxi driver wasn’t going to take me on a joy ride through South Mumbai. Though…my ability to actually name ANY of the roads that we drove on is non-existent, so that was futile. It was lovely to see Mumbai at night though, the city is rather beautiful and moderately cooler (by cooler I mean 33 C compared to 40 C, needless to say I’m still sweating profusely) We got to a stop light and I saw a beggar knocking on windows a couple cars ahead. I looked around and saw about 15-20 other homeless and realized that giving this poor man money would induce unwanted company by all the others. Hoepfully the light would change first.
Nope, the light did not change and the beggar did come up and knock on my window. He started scratching at it and showing his sons hands. His son didn’t have a hand, he had a bloody nub. I had to look away, there was nothing I could do.
Eventually we pulled away and I viewed the rest of the slum life in Mumbai. Homeless children running the streets with roughly a million dogs and a million other people. When we rolled up to the apartment the man said “110 ruppees” which surprised me because earlier that day I was paying 300-400 ruppees for a cab! Yes, I was totally ripped off. Shit.
Well, it was silly to dwell on that –even though deep down inside I was unbelievable pissed off. That’s when I officially became cheap in India. I’ll just say. I get it now.
On to the night! Since Thursday is quite the party night in Pittsburgh I figured the same held true over here. Nope, the “happening” days in Mumbai are only Wednesday, Friday, Saturday. I don’t quite get the Wednesday thing, but then again there’s a lot of things I don’t get about Mumbai so I just let it go. We ended up at a pretty awesome hookah bar. The hookah was good, though ironically the music plying in the bar brought back memories of senior homecoming with trendy, early ‘00s music. When I heard soldier boy I nearly choked on my hookah. I found it strange that in hookah bars back home Arabic-eque music capitalizes in hookah bars while hookah bars over here play American music? Strange.
The next night we went out. Driving through the slums – strange strange – and pulling up to the ritzy Hyatt Resort screamed dichotomy. Regardless, like a true Mumbaikar I just drank a lot. Since I didn’t quite plan on going out any other nights, I decided that tonight I would go all out. By that paying the bare minimum and tricking some Mumbaikar to buy me a drink. I eventually got my free drink after much effort and agreeing to eat lunch the next day - I didn’t by the way. Then next think I know Ankita, myself, and our little group made friends with an overly drunk/friendly group of guys. One of them was enjoying the house music way to much, but it was sweet music and if you’re going to enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself. We later found out that he’s from Egypt and that he pretty much came here to party to. Seems like a trend.
We danced and had a great time till about 3:30 when the club closed – by the way Mumbai doesn’t really have a closing time. Clubs, and everything actually, closes anywhere between 9:00 and never. Only in Mumbai.
The next day we met up with Ankitas dad, who by the way is my new idol. He maintains good and loving relationships with his family and friends, while traveling all over the world. He has lived in more places then I can even name, and travels more then most people I have known – all the while remaining a completely down to earth and kind person. Who said you had to settle down in one place forever to have a perfect family? His lifestyle is a great model for what I hope mine to be one day.
We hung out with him during the later portion of the day – doing our girlie things as he said then having dinner and going out. I ate the infamous Chinese/Indian food, and to say that least, the food was amazing! I’ve never eaten such fresh tasting, flavorful, Chinese takeout. I could honestly eat that forever. Instead we went o Presad (sp?)
What is this Presad? I soon found out that this club is arguable to most exclusive and high end club in Mumbai. When the club opened there were only 500 memberships sold at around $60-80,000 per membership and only those people and acquaintances of them are ever allowed in. (I’ll tell you later what arrogance that rule was built off).
Somehow we – I - got in. At the young age of 21, I felt old. Literally, I’m pretty sure the average age at this club was 17. It was surreal, 16-18 year-old children were drinking Belvedere and smoking on top of “lotus – private table overtop a pound in the club – dressed in the clothing circa high school musical. I couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollable. This was ridiculous. Thankfully, the club was somehow shut down at 1:30. After, of course, me and some 15 year old took several shots of Belvederes. Apparently, every club is supposed to close down at 1:00(ish), unless of course you’ve payed off the police. Which apparently they forgot. Oops. The little children were escorted out by their body guards as the Mumbai police came in with guns and battalions. Out into the ungodly humidity we go! We ended up back at Zaffrons, the hookah bar, and ended up finding out about the truth of the Mumbai underworld until about 5:00 in the morning. Fascinating stuff, and far beyond the scope of this blog or my ability to accurately describe it. If you ever want to know the “truth” just ask, it explains why people can still live life in Mumbai even with the intense poverty and conditions in the slums and streets.
To be perfectly honest, I had exceedingly more fun watching bollywood movies and Hindi TV with Ankita then going out at night. It’s those everyday thinks of Mumbai I love…
Reading the Hindustan Times is my new favorite past time, and I will certainly miss their generalization of Americans (they think we’re overly sexed) and unbelievable accuracy in describing the every movements of Lindsey Lohan. They love Lindsey Lohan. Masala tea, what we understand as Chai tea, is the greatest drink ever created and comparitvely cheap here. On the street a cup of chai is about 5 rupeees, and a whole pot of it in a restaurant is 25 ruppees (about 55 cents). The people are fascinating, their clothes, their ability to flow through this insane town. Communicating with cab drivers is a thrill in and of itself, I’ve never learned Hindi so quickly – and utilized it so poorly. I’ve learned that stop lights are just suggestions, as well as every other traffic “law”. Crossing the street is a dream come true for me, it’s like playing a real life version of frogger. The rich are RICH and the poor are pretty poor, but those in the middle are pretty damn cool. Bartering is fun and it works! And when it works you feel pretty accomplished, though if you’re white like me, you probably still got ripped off.
Mumbai isn’t bad, it isn’t scary, it isn’t too crazy – it’s just different. It operates differently then how the west visualizes and understands a city, and just because it doesn’t run that way doesn’t make it inferior. If anything Mumbai is advanced in it’s abilities to operate under such pressure and stress. In essence, Mumbai should have probably collapsed years go from over population and pollution. Somehow it still survives and districts like Colaba, Bandra, and Juhu represent the advancements that Mumbai is making. I honestly love Mumbai because it is so alive. There is so much to discover from the millions of street stalls, clubs, alleys, temples, stores, restaurants old and new, and the great people that do exist there. I can’t wait to go back.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
My new friend
Before I venture out for the day I had to mention my new friend. I can't remember his name, and I think I would hurt him too much to ask again, but he basically thinks I'm the greatest thing to ever step foot in this hotel.
I don't know if it's customary to tip the "bell" boys...but I did. Apparently it was the first time he had ever been tipped. Okay, so maybe he's new to this job. Nope, been working in hotels for 12 years. Never been tipped. Could explain the love.
When I got in yesterday around 10:45 I though "I'll sleep till like 2 then wonder around maybe eat? Who knows" I slept until 6:00. I still wondered around - when I received all the stares - then eventually made my way back to the hotel so I could eat. As I was eating a tasty dhal with some roti and chai my friend approached me again. He asked how I was doing and all the like, and responded mostly with compliments about my smile. He pointed out some areas I need to check out always ending with "If you need anything, anything at all let me know. Seriously, anything I help you, you my new friend, you have no family not friends, we be friends." Thanks for making me feel good about the no friends...
Then he struck me with a strange question, "You like Jesus?" I asked him what he said again, wasn't really expecting Jesus. But yes, he said Jesus, he asked if I liked him and if we were friends. I agreed, even though Jesus and I have had our issues I thought it best that my friend think I'm a stereotypical white person. He said Jesus makes him a nice person that helps other people, that is why he is helping me. Well what can I say? It's hard to not take this as some creepy sign that God is watching out for my yadda, yadda, blah, blah but I'm just going to dismiss it as an extremely strange coincidence.
He walked me to my room, made sure I didn't need anything else. Asked if everyone is this tall in America, gave me some toilet paper, then I shut the door and went to bed.
This place is great.
I don't know if it's customary to tip the "bell" boys...but I did. Apparently it was the first time he had ever been tipped. Okay, so maybe he's new to this job. Nope, been working in hotels for 12 years. Never been tipped. Could explain the love.
When I got in yesterday around 10:45 I though "I'll sleep till like 2 then wonder around maybe eat? Who knows" I slept until 6:00. I still wondered around - when I received all the stares - then eventually made my way back to the hotel so I could eat. As I was eating a tasty dhal with some roti and chai my friend approached me again. He asked how I was doing and all the like, and responded mostly with compliments about my smile. He pointed out some areas I need to check out always ending with "If you need anything, anything at all let me know. Seriously, anything I help you, you my new friend, you have no family not friends, we be friends." Thanks for making me feel good about the no friends...
Then he struck me with a strange question, "You like Jesus?" I asked him what he said again, wasn't really expecting Jesus. But yes, he said Jesus, he asked if I liked him and if we were friends. I agreed, even though Jesus and I have had our issues I thought it best that my friend think I'm a stereotypical white person. He said Jesus makes him a nice person that helps other people, that is why he is helping me. Well what can I say? It's hard to not take this as some creepy sign that God is watching out for my yadda, yadda, blah, blah but I'm just going to dismiss it as an extremely strange coincidence.
He walked me to my room, made sure I didn't need anything else. Asked if everyone is this tall in America, gave me some toilet paper, then I shut the door and went to bed.
This place is great.
From Delhi to Mumbai
Insanity doesn't correctly described Mumbai but it's as close to an accurate adjective that I can think of right now. There are people everywhere and things...everywhere. There are massive IT buildings next to dilapidated skyscrapers and abandoned apartment buildings. There are children EVERYWHERE and they don't hesitate to stare and point at the tall white girl walking down the street with a camera. At one point, a little girl turned around and gasped when she saw me then ran up to her mother and continued to speak in Hindi and point. I can't complain though, I nearly freaked out when I saw another white person. We really do stick out.
The place I am staying is rather nice. There is marble...everything. Funny how this type of decor would be a luxury in the US but I'm beginning to realize it is a necessity here. Why? Because it is really, really, really, really humid. Pittsburghers should never complain ever again that our city is humid - we are clearly spoiled. Even though I have AC and a fan there is still condensation on most all of my belongings. I wouldn't care much if it didn't render my cell phone basically useless. Touch screens and humidity do not mix. As I'm writing this I googled humidity and blackberries...seems like a common occurrence. Guess I'll have to forgo phone usage for most of the next 6 weeks.
Surprisingly I slept through most of last night. Thankfully I was still recovering from hours of jet lag and not sleeping for 36+ hours, so my body would not have allowed me to miss the opportunity for sleep. Otherwise I have no idea how I would sleep through the background noise. In Mumbai everyone beeps their horn at all times. To turn, to move forward, to move back, to go, to stop, to just say hello, it's incessant! When I got into the taxi at the airport the drive beeped his horn before he even started the car. I've deduced that beeping is just a form of communication here.
The place I am staying is rather nice. There is marble...everything. Funny how this type of decor would be a luxury in the US but I'm beginning to realize it is a necessity here. Why? Because it is really, really, really, really humid. Pittsburghers should never complain ever again that our city is humid - we are clearly spoiled. Even though I have AC and a fan there is still condensation on most all of my belongings. I wouldn't care much if it didn't render my cell phone basically useless. Touch screens and humidity do not mix. As I'm writing this I googled humidity and blackberries...seems like a common occurrence. Guess I'll have to forgo phone usage for most of the next 6 weeks.
Surprisingly I slept through most of last night. Thankfully I was still recovering from hours of jet lag and not sleeping for 36+ hours, so my body would not have allowed me to miss the opportunity for sleep. Otherwise I have no idea how I would sleep through the background noise. In Mumbai everyone beeps their horn at all times. To turn, to move forward, to move back, to go, to stop, to just say hello, it's incessant! When I got into the taxi at the airport the drive beeped his horn before he even started the car. I've deduced that beeping is just a form of communication here.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
14 Hour plane rides and sleeping in airports
I’m sitting in an airport in Delhi. It’s me, a Japanese man, and all Indians. The music is a sitar, hindi, music melody. It’s amazing.
Unfortunately, I realized about 5 hours before my plane landed that I would have to spend the night in Delhi. This is entirely my fault, good news came out of this whole debacle though...I realized I don’t know how to interpret AM and PM. Thankfully I met an American Indian girl whom also is trapped in the Delhi airport till 6:30 AM and together we ventured from the AA terminal to the main terminal to catch our flight. This seemingly simple task actually took us about 45 minutes. The large, gun carrying airport security scrutinized our inability to provide a location for where we stayed Tuesday May 17th. Tuesday May 17th we were mostly in the air. This I tried to describe to the man by motioning my arm in a plane like movement. My newly found friend quickly stopped me and spoke to the man in Hindi while I smiled stupidly.
Eventually a shuttle came to transport us to the main terminal. We were the only two people on the shuttle, and the driver tried to persuade us to just stay in a hotel.
me: "What did he say?"
Jissy: "He's trying to get us to stay in a hotel."
me: "Oh..." and
Jissy: "But that's silly, I told him no."
me: "Yeah, totally silly."
Hotels are for the weak. Give me a plastic, uncomfortable chair any day! I slept approximately 1 hour in the Indira Ghandi airport before I was awoken by the intercom that continued to break the sitar elevator music every 20 minutes.
Now, after trying for 3 hours, I have the internet! I'm mostly delirious - I've only slept about 6 hours in the past 48 - a little sick of trail mix, and I may or may not smell absolutely disgusting. Well, my flight leaves in 2 more hours! Finally, Mumbai and a bed. I'll probably going to sleep all day. Literally. All day.
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