Here are two images from my first night out at a Chinese bar, playing dice and making friends with the locals, and two images of my university.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Picture time
I did a lot talking in my posts about India. This time, I think I'll let the pictures take the stage.
Here are two images from my first night out at a Chinese bar, playing dice and making friends with the locals, and two images of my university.
Here are two images from my first night out at a Chinese bar, playing dice and making friends with the locals, and two images of my university.
Wrapping up India
Well folks, I made it safely home from India (and only 10 pounds lighter…), spent a great month in the states with friends from high school, my family, and my boyfriend and now I’m back in Asia is take 2.
Where to begin? I know I left off over a month ago with still a week to go in India. That week was amazing – I did something different every night, keeping myself thoroughly busy until the day I took off. The Sunday before, Nic and I spent wandering around Delhi by ourselves before meeting up with a recently arrived PIA fellow. We found some really interesting, crazy neighborhoods that were unlike anything we had come across yet. Some places the roads were so narrow you could almost touch the walls on either side at the same time, and almost no light made it through the rats' nest of wires above you. During those same wanderings I managed to purchase a Sari for the reasonable price of 500 rupees. The next day after work I took it to be tailored so that I could wear it into the office on Thursday. And here’s what I mean when I say I took it to be tailored, because saris confused the hell out of me before I finally got one: A sari is actually just a very long, rectangular piece of material. When you “get it tailored”, a tailor cuts off a piece from the end and makes a blouse for you to wear. Well, blouse is a strong word as it covers not much more than a sports bra. When you actually wear a sari, you put on the blouse, and then you wrap the material first around your waist, folding several times and tucking it in so as to make pleats in the front, and then finally you wrap it up across your chest and over your shoulder where you make more pleats and pin it down, letting the remaining hang over your shoulder and usually down to your mid thigh in the back. So that’s a sari.
After the tailoring, I went with some friends over to Jai’s house where we spent the evening with his parents cooking Indian food and playing board games. We learned how to play Business India – a game much like Monopoly but with stricter rules and local twists. We ate spicier food than we had our whole trip in India and it was so delicious. For the first time in my friendship with Nic, I witnessed him admitting to being full.
It was a great start to my last week, and Friday night out with my tech team made for a great end. We went to Delli Haad, the market place that you have to pay to get into, but then has goods and foods from all over India. I got henna while I was there and we spent the whole night eating and eating and eating. I impressed my coworkers with my tolerance of (and addiction to) spicy foods and the capacity of my stomach. I threw all caution to the wind and had drinks with ice and uncooked sauces on my foods. Though India had been a rough 6 six weeks, not all of it was bad. By far my favorite part of the trip was eating with friends, so this seemed an appropriate way to wrap up the trip. If there is one thing that has carried me through this summer, it’s been my sense of culinary adventures (mom, dad: thanks).
Since I’ve been away from India, people keep asking me how it was. What is it like? I have such an intense rush of mixed emotions about the country that it is hard to formulate an answer. How to I make people understand what it’s like to be completely knocked off your feet with loneliness and boredom and depression only to turn around and be elevated sky high by a person you’ve met, a meal you’ve had, or a successfully adventurous day? Even within a single moment I went from being amazed and elated by the things I saw and accomplished to counting down the days until I could return home to the people I loved and left behind. I found out that I am now a very different person than that brazen 18 year old itching to get out of her home and to give the world (and more specifically, China) a try with out a backward glance or a second thought.
So this is what I say: it was amazing and awful and I’m glad I went but happy to be home.
Where to begin? I know I left off over a month ago with still a week to go in India. That week was amazing – I did something different every night, keeping myself thoroughly busy until the day I took off. The Sunday before, Nic and I spent wandering around Delhi by ourselves before meeting up with a recently arrived PIA fellow. We found some really interesting, crazy neighborhoods that were unlike anything we had come across yet. Some places the roads were so narrow you could almost touch the walls on either side at the same time, and almost no light made it through the rats' nest of wires above you. During those same wanderings I managed to purchase a Sari for the reasonable price of 500 rupees. The next day after work I took it to be tailored so that I could wear it into the office on Thursday. And here’s what I mean when I say I took it to be tailored, because saris confused the hell out of me before I finally got one: A sari is actually just a very long, rectangular piece of material. When you “get it tailored”, a tailor cuts off a piece from the end and makes a blouse for you to wear. Well, blouse is a strong word as it covers not much more than a sports bra. When you actually wear a sari, you put on the blouse, and then you wrap the material first around your waist, folding several times and tucking it in so as to make pleats in the front, and then finally you wrap it up across your chest and over your shoulder where you make more pleats and pin it down, letting the remaining hang over your shoulder and usually down to your mid thigh in the back. So that’s a sari.
After the tailoring, I went with some friends over to Jai’s house where we spent the evening with his parents cooking Indian food and playing board games. We learned how to play Business India – a game much like Monopoly but with stricter rules and local twists. We ate spicier food than we had our whole trip in India and it was so delicious. For the first time in my friendship with Nic, I witnessed him admitting to being full.
It was a great start to my last week, and Friday night out with my tech team made for a great end. We went to Delli Haad, the market place that you have to pay to get into, but then has goods and foods from all over India. I got henna while I was there and we spent the whole night eating and eating and eating. I impressed my coworkers with my tolerance of (and addiction to) spicy foods and the capacity of my stomach. I threw all caution to the wind and had drinks with ice and uncooked sauces on my foods. Though India had been a rough 6 six weeks, not all of it was bad. By far my favorite part of the trip was eating with friends, so this seemed an appropriate way to wrap up the trip. If there is one thing that has carried me through this summer, it’s been my sense of culinary adventures (mom, dad: thanks).
Since I’ve been away from India, people keep asking me how it was. What is it like? I have such an intense rush of mixed emotions about the country that it is hard to formulate an answer. How to I make people understand what it’s like to be completely knocked off your feet with loneliness and boredom and depression only to turn around and be elevated sky high by a person you’ve met, a meal you’ve had, or a successfully adventurous day? Even within a single moment I went from being amazed and elated by the things I saw and accomplished to counting down the days until I could return home to the people I loved and left behind. I found out that I am now a very different person than that brazen 18 year old itching to get out of her home and to give the world (and more specifically, China) a try with out a backward glance or a second thought.
So this is what I say: it was amazing and awful and I’m glad I went but happy to be home.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
California, I'm Coming Home
Hey all,
This morning I took off from the Delhi airport and hopefully by tonight I'll find myself in the Hong Kong airport. At the moment I'm sitting in the beautiful, clean, quiet Singapore airport enjoying their free wireless internet connection. I'm not even half way out of Asia yet and I'm already feeling the huge contrast to where I spent these last six weeks.
It does feel a bit strange to be leaving a country feeling like I hardly know it. By the time I left China, we were pretty comfortable with each other. I had a decent grasp on the language, had seen almost all the provinces, knew how to travel from city to city by myself, and could order just about any dish. I knew China, I did China. But leaving from India my feelings are quite the opposite. Aside from my one day trip to Agra and the Taj Mahal, I hardly got out of my small corner in Noida that consisted of my guest house, the office, and the few places that I liked to grab food. I only picked up a few of the important words and could only list 3 or 4 of the 30+ versatile states that compromise India. In short, I learned just enough to know that I learned hardly anything at all.
Except one thing: I do know Indian food. South Indian, North India, Chinese-India fusion, street food, home cooked food, restaurant food. I searched the internet for menus from my favorite Indian restaurants near Princeton to see if they served all the new dishes I had discovered during my last six weeks and was pleasantly surprised. Mehek offers many of my new-found favorites, except for a few dishes like pani puri (thin, crispy, hallow balls about half the size of an egg that you fill with green, spicy water, sweet tamarind chutney, and some crunchy substance, and then stuff all together into your mouth). I am pleased to report that I WILL be able to find chaat in the states, which should make a few of my friends chuckle after my week long obsession with the food. "Do you want to eat at XXX restaurant?" "Well, do they serve chaat?"
For now, I am going to turn my attention towards getting myself home safely and posting about the last few events of my time in India. I hope you've enjoyed the blog so far, and stay tuned for adventures to begin again in late August with my semester abroad in Hong Kong.
This morning I took off from the Delhi airport and hopefully by tonight I'll find myself in the Hong Kong airport. At the moment I'm sitting in the beautiful, clean, quiet Singapore airport enjoying their free wireless internet connection. I'm not even half way out of Asia yet and I'm already feeling the huge contrast to where I spent these last six weeks.
It does feel a bit strange to be leaving a country feeling like I hardly know it. By the time I left China, we were pretty comfortable with each other. I had a decent grasp on the language, had seen almost all the provinces, knew how to travel from city to city by myself, and could order just about any dish. I knew China, I did China. But leaving from India my feelings are quite the opposite. Aside from my one day trip to Agra and the Taj Mahal, I hardly got out of my small corner in Noida that consisted of my guest house, the office, and the few places that I liked to grab food. I only picked up a few of the important words and could only list 3 or 4 of the 30+ versatile states that compromise India. In short, I learned just enough to know that I learned hardly anything at all.
Except one thing: I do know Indian food. South Indian, North India, Chinese-India fusion, street food, home cooked food, restaurant food. I searched the internet for menus from my favorite Indian restaurants near Princeton to see if they served all the new dishes I had discovered during my last six weeks and was pleasantly surprised. Mehek offers many of my new-found favorites, except for a few dishes like pani puri (thin, crispy, hallow balls about half the size of an egg that you fill with green, spicy water, sweet tamarind chutney, and some crunchy substance, and then stuff all together into your mouth). I am pleased to report that I WILL be able to find chaat in the states, which should make a few of my friends chuckle after my week long obsession with the food. "Do you want to eat at XXX restaurant?" "Well, do they serve chaat?"
For now, I am going to turn my attention towards getting myself home safely and posting about the last few events of my time in India. I hope you've enjoyed the blog so far, and stay tuned for adventures to begin again in late August with my semester abroad in Hong Kong.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Wedding Videos and Indian Food
The day after going to Agra was just as much fun (if a bit less expensive) as going to the Taj. Anant, my supervisor, invited Nic and I over to his home for lunch and to see his amazing surround sound movie system. We decided to try catching an auto from our guest house, something which we hadn’t done before for the simple reason that there aren’t any. We had to walk a few blocks down the desolate highway in front of our guest house to the first intersection, only to have the first few auto drivers demand over Rs. 100 for the trip. I have to admit, pride plays a big part of how I negotiate. It isn’t that 10 or 20 rupees makes that much a different to my wallet (25 or 50 cents), but being charged and accepting exorbitant rates simply because I am foreign hurts. I don’t just negotiate hard and turn down bad offers for myself, but for any other foreigner that comes along and just might have an easier time getting fair rates because I pushed hard. I’m fighting for my country! I know in reality my small effort will make no difference whatsoever in the scheme of things, but I would like to think that at least I did my part. Perhaps it is the same reason why I am a vegetarian – I don’t think that my not eating meat will save the planet, but I do think that my contribution helps, in some small way. Nic doesn’t understand this – he told me he would only agree with my actions if I tried to start a movement, to get a whole bunch of people to change their habits, only then would I be able to affect change. But what’s wrong with being one of those people that JOINED the movement?
Well this post has already gotten completely off track. We arrived in Anant’s sector and discovered that the addresses, like everywhere else in Noida, have no logical ordering to them. Getting to the block within your sector is not even half the battle – getting to the actual house is the rest. We asked some guards where G-19 was, and headed off in the direction they pointed. The numbers were in the low teens and rising, so it felt good, but before it got to 19 the block abruptly ended and we found ourselves in F-block. We go back and ask the guards again, and I pointed in the direction that I thought the house would be in, and they confirmed. Big mistake. Never ever ask leading questions – you will always get a confirmation. I’m guilty of the same crime, in Chinese. If someone asks me a question I don’t understand, I usually just nod. You do it too, I’m sure of it. And yet I was surprised when the directions proved yet again to be false. Fortunately Anant came out into the street and found us (heading in the wrong direction, of course).
The lunch was incredible. We met Anant’s friend from school, his wife, his mother, and his cousin. We were brought these incredible Indian sweets right away. The first were dark brown, sticky, rectangle shaped sweets with nuts on top. I was a little hesitant after my experiences with Indian sweets the day before in Agra, but these were delicious. The other sweets were thinner, golden brown with a silver layer on top and tasted like marzipan. We were also brought black tea with milk and sugar, something I’ve only be able to appreciate in India. Conversation turned towards Anant’s recent wedding, and pretty soon we were watching the wedding video. This, too, was incredible. I’ve only ever seen Indian weddings in movies and everyone knows how reliable the American movie industry is at representing other cultures (remember how all the characters in Mulan wore kimonos and dressed like geishas when going to see the match maker? Yeah…).
The wedding was unbelievable, in every aspect. The length, the number of traditions and ceremonies, the clothing and jewelry and decorations, the way every family member has a job or is in some way involved, the dancing and the celebration, and how it looks like so much fun for everyone besides the bride and groom, who must sit and look pretty while everyone else enjoys the party. Anant joked that they make it this way so that you’ll only get married once.
We continued watching the wedding DVD all through lunch – both DVDs actually. Lunch was incredible. I feel like I've been waiting this whole time to eat home made Indian food and it finally happened. Daal and mixed vegetables and home made chapati and curd and ice cream for dessert. It was all amazing and I definitely ate more than I should have. After lunch and the wedding DVD ended, we started watching the cricket match that was on – Pakistan vs. India? I was pleased to hear that Anant doesn't find cricket all that exciting either. I can't understand the national obsession with the sport, though I'm not saying this from a superior seat. America can't speak to well for itself with it's national sports being football and baseball. In the first, the play only lasts for a few seconds at a time and the players wear more padding than race car drivers. But at least our games last a civil amount of time. A match in cricket lasts 5 days. FIVE DAYS. That's a work week.
For those American who are confused by a match played in preppy clothing and lasting roughly a life time, let me enlighten you. As opposed to baseball where each time gets at at least 4 “gos” (or innings), in cricket each team only goes once. The order is determined by a coin toss at the beginning of the game. The team's turn lasts for either 300 pitches or until all 11 batters have been struck out, which ever one comes first. This goal of the pitching side it to get the batters out as quickly as possible, and in the mean time prevent them from earning runs. The goal of the batting side, obviously, is the opposite – postponing getting struck out and earning as many runs as possible. The winner is the team that earned the most runs during their turn. Runs can be earned in many ways. If the batter hits a aerial ball that makes it outside of a certain boundary, he gets 4 runs. If the ball bounces, but still makes it outside of those boundaries, it's 4 runs. Otherwise, similar to baseball, if the batter just hits the ball and is able to make it to the other base (there are only two in cricket) before the fielders get the ball there, he gets 1 run. Aside from earning runs, the batter is also trying to protect three metals poles that he stands near. If the pitcher throws the ball (which bounces before getting to the batter) and knocks over one of these poles, the batter is out. I actually think that this is much better than baseball's concept of a “strike box” - an invisible box of space through which the ball must pass to be considered a strike. There is something slightly less subjective about knocking over a metal pole. But whatever cricket makes up in objectivity, it looses in the length of the game and lack of luster in the activities that make up a game. In the small amount of time that I was watching the cricket match at Anant's place, we saw two batters get knocked out in a very short amount of time. The crowds responded favorably, and I considered myself lucky to witness a somewhat rare and vaguely exciting event. And then it occurred to me: aside from the bitter end of the game where the second team either looses it's last batter OR surpasses the first time in runs, that was as exciting as it got for cricket. And then it was decided: when it came to opening my mind and mouth to all things Indian, the bus stops here. I will never adopt a passion for the game cricket.
Our visit ended with the tail end of an old Hindi movie – the only Hindi movie I am yet to see with a sad ending. The main character dies protecting his village and his best friend and partner in crime (literally, they were outlaws before they were called upon to protect the village from...worse...outlaws) bawls over his dead body.
With many thanks and very full bellies, Nic and I caught an auto back to our guest house where we met our friend Sravanthi. The plan was to pick up a movie from Big Flix (Indian equivalent of Net Flix), buy some groceries, do a bit of cooking, and watch the movie. Of course, none of this came to play. After hanging out and chatting with Sravanthi for over an hour at our guest house, we finally got up and started running our errands, only to arrive at Sravanthi's apartment around 8:00 pm. We discovered that her maid has been waiting outside for her and had just left, and sinse the maid had no cell phone, we were out of luck for the night. So we planned to head out for dinner, but first, Sravanthi showed us some videos she had on her computer from her days at ISB – the school she got her MBA from. The videos were hilarious. One was all about a prank Sravanthi's class played on the incoming class, a full of “medical exams” and medical interviews where they convinced the poor freshman of the craziest things. Another video showed the festival “Holi” - a time when all the Indians run around throwing colors on each other (actually, colored power mixed with water) and drink a traditional drink that contains pot. Basically, a huge party where everyone comes out soaking wet, covered in colors, and completely wasted. The videos surprised me, primarily because of how similar the India students seemed to those at a typical American university. I realized that even for all my time here in India and all my friends, I still assumed that there was something fundamentally different between US and Indian students. I imagined strict universities with conservative policies (which do exist – no coed dorms or even visiting dorms of the opposite sex!), and studious students that don't drink or party. But the video could have been filmed anywhere and it made me feel nostalgic for Princeton. The pranks, the comraderie, the friendliness with the professors – it all felt very familiar.
Anyway, after the videos, we headed to Shopprix, the shopping mall nearby her house (did I mention Noida is filled with shopping malls?). On the bottom floor, there was a food court, and as soon as we wandered in and showed the slightest interest in getting food, we were surrounded by waiters shoving their menus under our faces. We found a seat and ordered a few dishes from the menus presented to us. It is kind of a cool system – forces true capitalism between the restaurants as a customer can actually choose which to one to order from based on a careful comparison of the prices. And the best part – huge selection of dishes all from the comfort of your table. Sravanthi and Nic went the chicken route with a mouton biryani, a malai something or other, and some chicken dish. I ordered vegetarian Chinese dumplings – a mistake having actually been to China. But the most fun of the night was just around the corner. We walk out of the shopping mall after we've had our fill and find an impromptu market place with all sorts of handicrafts at really good prices. We found a sweet old man selling beautiful embroiders pillow covers for 30 – 60 rupees a piece depending on the size ($.75 - $1.50) when I've been asked to pay at least 5 times that much at other market places. He told us he didn't believe in bargaining, but in simply asking for a fair price for his goods. In that moment, I loved him. Nic and I bought oodles of pillow covers – they were just so beautiful and we couldn't believe the price. Amusing after Nic had declared for the umpteinth time that his wallet was on lock down. We then wandered over to another stall that sold journals with intricate, brightly colored covers and hand made paper. I watched Nic salivate over the leather ones and deliberate over the more colorful ones as gifts for his sisters. “My wallet's on lockdown!” ....right, Nic.
We finally headed back to Sravanthi's apartment, fetched our things, and took an auto back to our guest house. It was almost midnight when we left, and we had work the next day.
Yet again, what a day.
Well this post has already gotten completely off track. We arrived in Anant’s sector and discovered that the addresses, like everywhere else in Noida, have no logical ordering to them. Getting to the block within your sector is not even half the battle – getting to the actual house is the rest. We asked some guards where G-19 was, and headed off in the direction they pointed. The numbers were in the low teens and rising, so it felt good, but before it got to 19 the block abruptly ended and we found ourselves in F-block. We go back and ask the guards again, and I pointed in the direction that I thought the house would be in, and they confirmed. Big mistake. Never ever ask leading questions – you will always get a confirmation. I’m guilty of the same crime, in Chinese. If someone asks me a question I don’t understand, I usually just nod. You do it too, I’m sure of it. And yet I was surprised when the directions proved yet again to be false. Fortunately Anant came out into the street and found us (heading in the wrong direction, of course).
The lunch was incredible. We met Anant’s friend from school, his wife, his mother, and his cousin. We were brought these incredible Indian sweets right away. The first were dark brown, sticky, rectangle shaped sweets with nuts on top. I was a little hesitant after my experiences with Indian sweets the day before in Agra, but these were delicious. The other sweets were thinner, golden brown with a silver layer on top and tasted like marzipan. We were also brought black tea with milk and sugar, something I’ve only be able to appreciate in India. Conversation turned towards Anant’s recent wedding, and pretty soon we were watching the wedding video. This, too, was incredible. I’ve only ever seen Indian weddings in movies and everyone knows how reliable the American movie industry is at representing other cultures (remember how all the characters in Mulan wore kimonos and dressed like geishas when going to see the match maker? Yeah…).
The wedding was unbelievable, in every aspect. The length, the number of traditions and ceremonies, the clothing and jewelry and decorations, the way every family member has a job or is in some way involved, the dancing and the celebration, and how it looks like so much fun for everyone besides the bride and groom, who must sit and look pretty while everyone else enjoys the party. Anant joked that they make it this way so that you’ll only get married once.
We continued watching the wedding DVD all through lunch – both DVDs actually. Lunch was incredible. I feel like I've been waiting this whole time to eat home made Indian food and it finally happened. Daal and mixed vegetables and home made chapati and curd and ice cream for dessert. It was all amazing and I definitely ate more than I should have. After lunch and the wedding DVD ended, we started watching the cricket match that was on – Pakistan vs. India? I was pleased to hear that Anant doesn't find cricket all that exciting either. I can't understand the national obsession with the sport, though I'm not saying this from a superior seat. America can't speak to well for itself with it's national sports being football and baseball. In the first, the play only lasts for a few seconds at a time and the players wear more padding than race car drivers. But at least our games last a civil amount of time. A match in cricket lasts 5 days. FIVE DAYS. That's a work week.
For those American who are confused by a match played in preppy clothing and lasting roughly a life time, let me enlighten you. As opposed to baseball where each time gets at at least 4 “gos” (or innings), in cricket each team only goes once. The order is determined by a coin toss at the beginning of the game. The team's turn lasts for either 300 pitches or until all 11 batters have been struck out, which ever one comes first. This goal of the pitching side it to get the batters out as quickly as possible, and in the mean time prevent them from earning runs. The goal of the batting side, obviously, is the opposite – postponing getting struck out and earning as many runs as possible. The winner is the team that earned the most runs during their turn. Runs can be earned in many ways. If the batter hits a aerial ball that makes it outside of a certain boundary, he gets 4 runs. If the ball bounces, but still makes it outside of those boundaries, it's 4 runs. Otherwise, similar to baseball, if the batter just hits the ball and is able to make it to the other base (there are only two in cricket) before the fielders get the ball there, he gets 1 run. Aside from earning runs, the batter is also trying to protect three metals poles that he stands near. If the pitcher throws the ball (which bounces before getting to the batter) and knocks over one of these poles, the batter is out. I actually think that this is much better than baseball's concept of a “strike box” - an invisible box of space through which the ball must pass to be considered a strike. There is something slightly less subjective about knocking over a metal pole. But whatever cricket makes up in objectivity, it looses in the length of the game and lack of luster in the activities that make up a game. In the small amount of time that I was watching the cricket match at Anant's place, we saw two batters get knocked out in a very short amount of time. The crowds responded favorably, and I considered myself lucky to witness a somewhat rare and vaguely exciting event. And then it occurred to me: aside from the bitter end of the game where the second team either looses it's last batter OR surpasses the first time in runs, that was as exciting as it got for cricket. And then it was decided: when it came to opening my mind and mouth to all things Indian, the bus stops here. I will never adopt a passion for the game cricket.
Our visit ended with the tail end of an old Hindi movie – the only Hindi movie I am yet to see with a sad ending. The main character dies protecting his village and his best friend and partner in crime (literally, they were outlaws before they were called upon to protect the village from...worse...outlaws) bawls over his dead body.
With many thanks and very full bellies, Nic and I caught an auto back to our guest house where we met our friend Sravanthi. The plan was to pick up a movie from Big Flix (Indian equivalent of Net Flix), buy some groceries, do a bit of cooking, and watch the movie. Of course, none of this came to play. After hanging out and chatting with Sravanthi for over an hour at our guest house, we finally got up and started running our errands, only to arrive at Sravanthi's apartment around 8:00 pm. We discovered that her maid has been waiting outside for her and had just left, and sinse the maid had no cell phone, we were out of luck for the night. So we planned to head out for dinner, but first, Sravanthi showed us some videos she had on her computer from her days at ISB – the school she got her MBA from. The videos were hilarious. One was all about a prank Sravanthi's class played on the incoming class, a full of “medical exams” and medical interviews where they convinced the poor freshman of the craziest things. Another video showed the festival “Holi” - a time when all the Indians run around throwing colors on each other (actually, colored power mixed with water) and drink a traditional drink that contains pot. Basically, a huge party where everyone comes out soaking wet, covered in colors, and completely wasted. The videos surprised me, primarily because of how similar the India students seemed to those at a typical American university. I realized that even for all my time here in India and all my friends, I still assumed that there was something fundamentally different between US and Indian students. I imagined strict universities with conservative policies (which do exist – no coed dorms or even visiting dorms of the opposite sex!), and studious students that don't drink or party. But the video could have been filmed anywhere and it made me feel nostalgic for Princeton. The pranks, the comraderie, the friendliness with the professors – it all felt very familiar.
Anyway, after the videos, we headed to Shopprix, the shopping mall nearby her house (did I mention Noida is filled with shopping malls?). On the bottom floor, there was a food court, and as soon as we wandered in and showed the slightest interest in getting food, we were surrounded by waiters shoving their menus under our faces. We found a seat and ordered a few dishes from the menus presented to us. It is kind of a cool system – forces true capitalism between the restaurants as a customer can actually choose which to one to order from based on a careful comparison of the prices. And the best part – huge selection of dishes all from the comfort of your table. Sravanthi and Nic went the chicken route with a mouton biryani, a malai something or other, and some chicken dish. I ordered vegetarian Chinese dumplings – a mistake having actually been to China. But the most fun of the night was just around the corner. We walk out of the shopping mall after we've had our fill and find an impromptu market place with all sorts of handicrafts at really good prices. We found a sweet old man selling beautiful embroiders pillow covers for 30 – 60 rupees a piece depending on the size ($.75 - $1.50) when I've been asked to pay at least 5 times that much at other market places. He told us he didn't believe in bargaining, but in simply asking for a fair price for his goods. In that moment, I loved him. Nic and I bought oodles of pillow covers – they were just so beautiful and we couldn't believe the price. Amusing after Nic had declared for the umpteinth time that his wallet was on lock down. We then wandered over to another stall that sold journals with intricate, brightly colored covers and hand made paper. I watched Nic salivate over the leather ones and deliberate over the more colorful ones as gifts for his sisters. “My wallet's on lockdown!” ....right, Nic.
We finally headed back to Sravanthi's apartment, fetched our things, and took an auto back to our guest house. It was almost midnight when we left, and we had work the next day.
Yet again, what a day.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Taj Mahal
Last weekend, Nic and I went with three friends from work to Agra and the Taj Mahal. The day was incredible, but so big that I haven’t had a chance to sit down and right a post about until now. Here are the highlights:
We hired a car for the day for a fixed price, which was so nice. Nic and I were going to take a 1-hour cab into Delhi, then a 4-hour train to Agra, and then take another cab to the Taj. I have a feeling the hired car was a much, much better way to go. Except for one small glitch: when Nic and I first got in, the driver refused to take us because we were foreigners. Huh? Turns out that his car isn’t registered as a commercial taxi, but just a private car. And if he goes somewhere like Agra with foreigners, the police will surely know that he’s a taxi and he’ll get fined. This all happened before 6:00 AM. We managed to convince the driver that if we did get caught, we’d just pay the fine, and with a bit of difficulty were off.
It was great to get out of the Delhi-Noida area and some countryside. Our driver knew of a short cut through these villages, and we saw the craziest things. The first thing we noticed that was different was the green – huge fields of farmland and grass. And the roads were all just dirt and mud. And we saw all these animals just hanging out: cows (duh), dogs, pigs, monkeys, peacocks, camels.
When we were still a few kilometers outside of the nearest tourist attraction, we started getting stopped by guys on the road who tried to convince us that we couldn’t go any further without hiring a tour guide. We managed just fine, thank you very much. I’m used to the constant scamming from living in China for a year, but it still baffles me what people will tell you to get you to hire them, and how much they can charge. We found parking and went to grab an auto to take us to the actual site (no cars allowed near by) and sure enough as soon as we sat down, a ton of tour guides started clambering to get in with us. Amazingly enough, we fit all 5 of us, the driver, and a tour guide in 1 small auto rickshaw.
The place we saw was some cross between a fort and temple. It was the residence of a Mogul emperor from way back when who had had three wives: one Christian, one Muslim, and one Hindu. He had built a church, a mosque, and a Hindu temple inside the estate to please his wives. Inside of the mosque, there were marble grave markers all over the place in this one corner with Arabic script on them. Our guide informed us that gents (“like you, you are a gent” he said indicating to Nic) were buried over here, and that the ladies (“like you, you are a lady” he said indicating to me) were buried over there. Our guide also pointed out a staircase that led underground, like to cellar, and said behind the doors was a 40-km underground passage way to Agra, where the Taj Mahal is.
We wandered around the mosque longer, took pictures, looked at the touristy goods being offered. I got a little separated from the group and get approached by this Indian family with a baby saying “One photo please just one photo!” I agree and the next thing I know, they’ve shoved their baby into my arms and started snapping photos. What?? I turn around just in time to see that Nic and my group have whipped out their camera’s as well to capture this priceless moment. Fabulous. Now I can send it home and say “look what I got in India!” And what does a family do with a photo like that? Convince their kid that he’s adopted? Make up some story about the random white woman that they leant their baby to for a few moments? I had half a mind to just turn around and walk away with the child, as a lesson to them of what happens when you give strangers your baby.
When we’d had our fill of the fort, we started to head back in the direction of our car when we discover that instead of taking an auto, there is the option of taking a camel-cart: a cart pulled by a camel. While I am not entirely for the unnecessary abuse of animals, enthusiastic can only begin to describe the rest of my group, the decision was made. We climbed into this cart behind the camel, sitting right up close and person with the part of the camel that smells the most, and off we go. The guide then insists that one of us actually climb up onto the camel, and Nic jumps up. As we jerkily pulled down the hill, our tour guide keeps calling out in his bizarre accent “what a handsome white boy on a camel!” and the people around us just stare. I imagine for many of the people traveling to see this monument, Nic on a camel is just as much of a tourist attraction as the building we were leaving.
So off to the next attraction: Taj Mahal. As we approached Agra, Nic and I ducked our heads low in the back of the car to avoid being spotted by the officials. Again, we had to park a little ways away from the monument and take rickshaws the remaining distance. When we arrived, there were crowds of people and very long lines to get in. Nic and I also discovered that our tickets cost 750 rupees while our Indian friends only have to pay 50 ($1 versus $18). We were again bombarded by tour guides offering every and any language and refusing to leave your side until you all but punched them. We managed to luck out, however. One tour guide just helped us without asking any money at all – he helped us get tickets, and then let us skip the entire line for getting into the Taj. We finally asked him what he wanted and all he asked for was Rs 100 to show us around. Not so bad.
The Taj was incredible, breathtaking, and mind boggling complex in architecture. Everything was built to be just so. The several hundred foot high gate to the Taj had 22 towers and 22 steps, for the 22 years it took to complete the building. As you walked through, the Taj Mahal was perfectly framed in the door way. The closer you got, each pillar surrounding the Taj came into view through the door frame one at a time. Everything was perfectly symmetrical and built to perfection. All the marble was intricately decorated, but not with painting. All the decorations were done by inlaying colorful stones into the marble, explaining why it has lasted this long. Throughout the monuments there must have been thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of flowers inlaid in this marble, each one made up of as many as 100 pieces a colored stone. Our guide was incredible, and incredible with the camera. Every angle he could think of, he had to get several pictures. One of the group, just the ladies, just the gents, each of us on our own. We have pictures in front of the Taj, “holding the Taj”, inside the Taj, around this side of the Taj, from this other angle over here, etc.
I’ve heard many contradicting storied about how the Taj came to be, but here’s one version: The Taj was built by a Mogul emperor as a tomb for his beloved wife. It took 22 years to complete, and when it was done, the emperor cut off the hands of all those that worked on it so that they would never build anything like it again. The emperor had three wives before the one he built the Taj for, none of which gave him a son. The fourth gave him some 16 children and died in childbirth. Some say that they loved each other so much that they never spent a day apart, and she would follow him with all her children to battle fields and far across the country. The emperor blamed himself for her death. He planned to have another similar building built just across the river from the Taj for his own burial, but never had the chance to see this through. He was imprisoned by his son and spent the last several years of his life only able to see the Taj through the window of his prison. When he died, one of his daughters buried him alongside his wife, completely destroying the perfect symmetry of the building.
Once we’d had our fill of the Taj (and the heat) we walked out to the market place just in front of the monument. We were ushered into an air conditioned marble store (ahhh!) and giving a lengthy description of the marble, the work, the quality. We were shown how to use a flash light to see if the “marble” was translucent or not – one sign of authenticity. The other was scratching it across glass to see if any rubbed off. The store had some of the most beautiful work – white marble plates, coasters, elephants, everything with inlaid patterns of flowers. Sravanthi, Nic, and I made some purchases with our mad bargaining skills. We knew it would be a bit more expensive than a less touristy place, but the work was amazingly beautiful and it was worth it to purchase just outside the Taj that was so reminiscent of what we’d seen inside.
And that was about it for the exciting part of our day. There was more driving around with our heads hidden from the policemen’s eyes. We stopped outside the red fort, but didn’t enter, and went to a bizarre to purchase the sweets that Agra is famous for. I tasted these sweets and discovered that they were absolutely disgusting. They were so sweet it was almost painful, and they had this weird slimy, sticky, sugary texture. We stopped at another temple on the way home, and also at McDonald’s (while Nic happily ate his Chicken Maharaja sandwich, I stuck to the cereal I’d brought along) and finally got back to Noida around 11:30 at night.
What a day!
We hired a car for the day for a fixed price, which was so nice. Nic and I were going to take a 1-hour cab into Delhi, then a 4-hour train to Agra, and then take another cab to the Taj. I have a feeling the hired car was a much, much better way to go. Except for one small glitch: when Nic and I first got in, the driver refused to take us because we were foreigners. Huh? Turns out that his car isn’t registered as a commercial taxi, but just a private car. And if he goes somewhere like Agra with foreigners, the police will surely know that he’s a taxi and he’ll get fined. This all happened before 6:00 AM. We managed to convince the driver that if we did get caught, we’d just pay the fine, and with a bit of difficulty were off.
It was great to get out of the Delhi-Noida area and some countryside. Our driver knew of a short cut through these villages, and we saw the craziest things. The first thing we noticed that was different was the green – huge fields of farmland and grass. And the roads were all just dirt and mud. And we saw all these animals just hanging out: cows (duh), dogs, pigs, monkeys, peacocks, camels.
When we were still a few kilometers outside of the nearest tourist attraction, we started getting stopped by guys on the road who tried to convince us that we couldn’t go any further without hiring a tour guide. We managed just fine, thank you very much. I’m used to the constant scamming from living in China for a year, but it still baffles me what people will tell you to get you to hire them, and how much they can charge. We found parking and went to grab an auto to take us to the actual site (no cars allowed near by) and sure enough as soon as we sat down, a ton of tour guides started clambering to get in with us. Amazingly enough, we fit all 5 of us, the driver, and a tour guide in 1 small auto rickshaw.
The place we saw was some cross between a fort and temple. It was the residence of a Mogul emperor from way back when who had had three wives: one Christian, one Muslim, and one Hindu. He had built a church, a mosque, and a Hindu temple inside the estate to please his wives. Inside of the mosque, there were marble grave markers all over the place in this one corner with Arabic script on them. Our guide informed us that gents (“like you, you are a gent” he said indicating to Nic) were buried over here, and that the ladies (“like you, you are a lady” he said indicating to me) were buried over there. Our guide also pointed out a staircase that led underground, like to cellar, and said behind the doors was a 40-km underground passage way to Agra, where the Taj Mahal is.
We wandered around the mosque longer, took pictures, looked at the touristy goods being offered. I got a little separated from the group and get approached by this Indian family with a baby saying “One photo please just one photo!” I agree and the next thing I know, they’ve shoved their baby into my arms and started snapping photos. What?? I turn around just in time to see that Nic and my group have whipped out their camera’s as well to capture this priceless moment. Fabulous. Now I can send it home and say “look what I got in India!” And what does a family do with a photo like that? Convince their kid that he’s adopted? Make up some story about the random white woman that they leant their baby to for a few moments? I had half a mind to just turn around and walk away with the child, as a lesson to them of what happens when you give strangers your baby.
When we’d had our fill of the fort, we started to head back in the direction of our car when we discover that instead of taking an auto, there is the option of taking a camel-cart: a cart pulled by a camel. While I am not entirely for the unnecessary abuse of animals, enthusiastic can only begin to describe the rest of my group, the decision was made. We climbed into this cart behind the camel, sitting right up close and person with the part of the camel that smells the most, and off we go. The guide then insists that one of us actually climb up onto the camel, and Nic jumps up. As we jerkily pulled down the hill, our tour guide keeps calling out in his bizarre accent “what a handsome white boy on a camel!” and the people around us just stare. I imagine for many of the people traveling to see this monument, Nic on a camel is just as much of a tourist attraction as the building we were leaving.
So off to the next attraction: Taj Mahal. As we approached Agra, Nic and I ducked our heads low in the back of the car to avoid being spotted by the officials. Again, we had to park a little ways away from the monument and take rickshaws the remaining distance. When we arrived, there were crowds of people and very long lines to get in. Nic and I also discovered that our tickets cost 750 rupees while our Indian friends only have to pay 50 ($1 versus $18). We were again bombarded by tour guides offering every and any language and refusing to leave your side until you all but punched them. We managed to luck out, however. One tour guide just helped us without asking any money at all – he helped us get tickets, and then let us skip the entire line for getting into the Taj. We finally asked him what he wanted and all he asked for was Rs 100 to show us around. Not so bad.
The Taj was incredible, breathtaking, and mind boggling complex in architecture. Everything was built to be just so. The several hundred foot high gate to the Taj had 22 towers and 22 steps, for the 22 years it took to complete the building. As you walked through, the Taj Mahal was perfectly framed in the door way. The closer you got, each pillar surrounding the Taj came into view through the door frame one at a time. Everything was perfectly symmetrical and built to perfection. All the marble was intricately decorated, but not with painting. All the decorations were done by inlaying colorful stones into the marble, explaining why it has lasted this long. Throughout the monuments there must have been thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of flowers inlaid in this marble, each one made up of as many as 100 pieces a colored stone. Our guide was incredible, and incredible with the camera. Every angle he could think of, he had to get several pictures. One of the group, just the ladies, just the gents, each of us on our own. We have pictures in front of the Taj, “holding the Taj”, inside the Taj, around this side of the Taj, from this other angle over here, etc.
I’ve heard many contradicting storied about how the Taj came to be, but here’s one version: The Taj was built by a Mogul emperor as a tomb for his beloved wife. It took 22 years to complete, and when it was done, the emperor cut off the hands of all those that worked on it so that they would never build anything like it again. The emperor had three wives before the one he built the Taj for, none of which gave him a son. The fourth gave him some 16 children and died in childbirth. Some say that they loved each other so much that they never spent a day apart, and she would follow him with all her children to battle fields and far across the country. The emperor blamed himself for her death. He planned to have another similar building built just across the river from the Taj for his own burial, but never had the chance to see this through. He was imprisoned by his son and spent the last several years of his life only able to see the Taj through the window of his prison. When he died, one of his daughters buried him alongside his wife, completely destroying the perfect symmetry of the building.
Once we’d had our fill of the Taj (and the heat) we walked out to the market place just in front of the monument. We were ushered into an air conditioned marble store (ahhh!) and giving a lengthy description of the marble, the work, the quality. We were shown how to use a flash light to see if the “marble” was translucent or not – one sign of authenticity. The other was scratching it across glass to see if any rubbed off. The store had some of the most beautiful work – white marble plates, coasters, elephants, everything with inlaid patterns of flowers. Sravanthi, Nic, and I made some purchases with our mad bargaining skills. We knew it would be a bit more expensive than a less touristy place, but the work was amazingly beautiful and it was worth it to purchase just outside the Taj that was so reminiscent of what we’d seen inside.
And that was about it for the exciting part of our day. There was more driving around with our heads hidden from the policemen’s eyes. We stopped outside the red fort, but didn’t enter, and went to a bizarre to purchase the sweets that Agra is famous for. I tasted these sweets and discovered that they were absolutely disgusting. They were so sweet it was almost painful, and they had this weird slimy, sticky, sugary texture. We stopped at another temple on the way home, and also at McDonald’s (while Nic happily ate his Chicken Maharaja sandwich, I stuck to the cereal I’d brought along) and finally got back to Noida around 11:30 at night.
What a day!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Wandering Around
The main frustration with out set up in Noida is this: Nic and I live about 20 minutes away from where we work. We work fairly near to Sector-18 and everything else that’s exciting to see and do in Noida, and we live in the middle of no where. We have a driver to take us to and from work, but if was want to do anything besides go straight home afterwards, we sacrifice this privilege and are forced to negotiate with rickshaw driver or autos to pay way too much money to be nearly killed for 40 minutes or so. So we must decide – go out in our work clothes, carrying our computers and briefcases, and then face the dangers of getting home, or be taken home by our driver, safe and sound, only to have nothing to do thereafter? The other downer is that dinner is free at the guest house (the company pays our bill) while out and about it’s not only not free, but potentially not clean. I still tend to opt for out because it’s that much more delicious (mango smoothies!), and maybe this explains the hospital visit.
On Wednesday I decided it was time to end out isolation in Sector 55 by going for a walk directly from our guest house, thus allowing us to use the driver, eat the guest house food, AND have something to do after work. There’s nothing around us for quite a while in any direction, but I figured if we walked in the general direction of work, we’d eventually hit something interesting.
And this is how I get to know a country – I walk. Just because I have no purpose, nothing I intend to buy, doesn’t mean I can’t poke my head into every store. Just because I can’t eat the street food doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what their cooking, how is smells, how much it costs. Nic, of course, gets no say in the matter and has to come.
I wish had the powers of description to really paint a panorama for you of what its like to walk around outside in India, even in the middle of nowhere part of a suburb. The first part of the walk was peaceful enough. It was already dark when we left, and we started walking down the main road next to our guest house. The roads are filthy and have no street lamps and you aren’t ever quite sure what you are stepping in. There is no clearly designated difference between road and sidewalk, and you have to watch our for stray rickshaw drivers, autos, cars, even cows. And they can be going either direction, doesn’t matter what side of the road you are on. But the lack of sidewalk activity – stalls and such - made this part peaceful. Despite the traffic and the honking, we were only competing for space with other commuters. 2 blocks down the road we hit a bit intersection and turned right, and the excitement started. There were street stalls selling mostly fruits, some street food, and chewing tobacco. People had bedded down for the night on parts of the sidewalk, and my biggest fear was stepping on someone I couldn’t see. The stalls fortunately provided some light. People stared, of course, and it didn’t help that I had to weave in and out of them just to make forward progress. It was loud – cars and other vehicles whizzing past, people with their hands duck taped to their horn, bicycle rickshaws clanging their bells, people shouting above the din.
We eventually got to an out door restaurant. It was filthy. We could see the food being prepared in these giant vats, and other food that had been sitting out for who knows how long. People – almost entirely men – were sitting at tables and benches and staring at us. Some people tried to get us to sit down and offer us food, but we were just there to look. I don’t have a death wish. Despite the staring and pushiness, the people seemed over all friendly and curious. I didn’t feel any ill will coming from their expressions, and so even as I was apologizing my way out of the restaurant, I felt comfortable. It might have helped that Nic was with me.
We turned down this pitch black alley to try to get away from the main road. I had a flash light with me, which was nice because you can never be quite sure what you’re stepping in. We managed to find our way to quieter parts of the neighborhood, with small streets and little shops, some people just set up right on the street. Everything was so small. There was a tailor, and he had just enough room for himself and a sewing machine. Another room held a dentist, and it was just big enough for a chair. You can find almost anything you need here, because everything gets crammed into such small places. After walking for a while we find a small shop that sold children’s toys and board games and school supplies. All the goods were behind a counter, and if you wanted to see something you’d point to it and the owner would fetch it for you. We looked at a handful of different games. So much of it was western – snakes and ladders, Disney character drawing books, etc. We did, however, find these two board games that were amazing – it looked a lot like Monopoly India. The places around the board were Indian cities, you dealt in rupees, the instructions are in Hindi…we had to buy them. They were used, and so Nic and I bought two board games for Rs. 150 total – less than $3.
We wandered further through the night and I noticed that the dogs were very peaceful. I’d been warned before coming over that the wild dogs are treacherous, especially at night. And there are dogs everywhere here. The idea of keeping a dog for a pet is very western and only a few wealthy families in Delhi seem to have them. The rest are stray and you see a dozen for every block. But I’ve never once been bothered by one. Perhaps it’s just Noida, perhaps I’m lucky.
We were trying to find out way back – difficult when you’ve been weaving in and out of alleys for an hour, and we found a more exciting open area with street-vendors selling fruits, juices, smoothies, deep fried street food, and stores with DVDs and clothing and other random things. I got a mango smoothie which Nic refused to even taste – he thinks I have a death wish. But I always have the smoothie without ice, so how bad can it be? Anyway I didn’t have a smoothie the day before I went to the hospital and in all the smoothies I’ve had since then, I’ve been fine. Like I said, I refuse to roll over and play dead just because of one unpleasant experience. And the mango smoothies are just so good.
We finally grabbed a rickshaw back to the guest house, games in hand, germs in stomach, and over all very happy with our night out.
On Wednesday I decided it was time to end out isolation in Sector 55 by going for a walk directly from our guest house, thus allowing us to use the driver, eat the guest house food, AND have something to do after work. There’s nothing around us for quite a while in any direction, but I figured if we walked in the general direction of work, we’d eventually hit something interesting.
And this is how I get to know a country – I walk. Just because I have no purpose, nothing I intend to buy, doesn’t mean I can’t poke my head into every store. Just because I can’t eat the street food doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what their cooking, how is smells, how much it costs. Nic, of course, gets no say in the matter and has to come.
I wish had the powers of description to really paint a panorama for you of what its like to walk around outside in India, even in the middle of nowhere part of a suburb. The first part of the walk was peaceful enough. It was already dark when we left, and we started walking down the main road next to our guest house. The roads are filthy and have no street lamps and you aren’t ever quite sure what you are stepping in. There is no clearly designated difference between road and sidewalk, and you have to watch our for stray rickshaw drivers, autos, cars, even cows. And they can be going either direction, doesn’t matter what side of the road you are on. But the lack of sidewalk activity – stalls and such - made this part peaceful. Despite the traffic and the honking, we were only competing for space with other commuters. 2 blocks down the road we hit a bit intersection and turned right, and the excitement started. There were street stalls selling mostly fruits, some street food, and chewing tobacco. People had bedded down for the night on parts of the sidewalk, and my biggest fear was stepping on someone I couldn’t see. The stalls fortunately provided some light. People stared, of course, and it didn’t help that I had to weave in and out of them just to make forward progress. It was loud – cars and other vehicles whizzing past, people with their hands duck taped to their horn, bicycle rickshaws clanging their bells, people shouting above the din.
We eventually got to an out door restaurant. It was filthy. We could see the food being prepared in these giant vats, and other food that had been sitting out for who knows how long. People – almost entirely men – were sitting at tables and benches and staring at us. Some people tried to get us to sit down and offer us food, but we were just there to look. I don’t have a death wish. Despite the staring and pushiness, the people seemed over all friendly and curious. I didn’t feel any ill will coming from their expressions, and so even as I was apologizing my way out of the restaurant, I felt comfortable. It might have helped that Nic was with me.
We turned down this pitch black alley to try to get away from the main road. I had a flash light with me, which was nice because you can never be quite sure what you’re stepping in. We managed to find our way to quieter parts of the neighborhood, with small streets and little shops, some people just set up right on the street. Everything was so small. There was a tailor, and he had just enough room for himself and a sewing machine. Another room held a dentist, and it was just big enough for a chair. You can find almost anything you need here, because everything gets crammed into such small places. After walking for a while we find a small shop that sold children’s toys and board games and school supplies. All the goods were behind a counter, and if you wanted to see something you’d point to it and the owner would fetch it for you. We looked at a handful of different games. So much of it was western – snakes and ladders, Disney character drawing books, etc. We did, however, find these two board games that were amazing – it looked a lot like Monopoly India. The places around the board were Indian cities, you dealt in rupees, the instructions are in Hindi…we had to buy them. They were used, and so Nic and I bought two board games for Rs. 150 total – less than $3.
We wandered further through the night and I noticed that the dogs were very peaceful. I’d been warned before coming over that the wild dogs are treacherous, especially at night. And there are dogs everywhere here. The idea of keeping a dog for a pet is very western and only a few wealthy families in Delhi seem to have them. The rest are stray and you see a dozen for every block. But I’ve never once been bothered by one. Perhaps it’s just Noida, perhaps I’m lucky.
We were trying to find out way back – difficult when you’ve been weaving in and out of alleys for an hour, and we found a more exciting open area with street-vendors selling fruits, juices, smoothies, deep fried street food, and stores with DVDs and clothing and other random things. I got a mango smoothie which Nic refused to even taste – he thinks I have a death wish. But I always have the smoothie without ice, so how bad can it be? Anyway I didn’t have a smoothie the day before I went to the hospital and in all the smoothies I’ve had since then, I’ve been fine. Like I said, I refuse to roll over and play dead just because of one unpleasant experience. And the mango smoothies are just so good.
We finally grabbed a rickshaw back to the guest house, games in hand, germs in stomach, and over all very happy with our night out.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Letter of Resignation
The following letter I wrote at the request of PIA to explain to the powers that be why I am coming home two weeks early. This is something I haven't posted about, because I've been trying to keep my posts entirely about my experiences in India. But something rather big has happened at home, and I can no longer keep it separate from my experiences in India because it's causing me to cut my trip short.
For a long time I really wanted to go home, because I was miserable. In the beginning I was lonely, hated my job, and felt trapped in my guest house in the middle of nowhere. And then I got my first round of "Delhi Belly" and spent a few days dealing with bowel movements I've only experienced in Asian countries. Two weeks later I got my second round of Delhi Belly and went to the hospital for 3 days. Now that I'm finally adjusted - I have interesting things to do at work, great friends that I go to lunch with every day, a good relationship with my bosses and supervisors, and more plans than I can carry through in my remaining weekends - it's time to go home. The change in perspective came maybe 24 hours after making my decision to go home, and perhaps it was the fact that I only have 2 weeks left that is making it easier to see things in a rose colored light. Regardless, it's the right thing to do, because there has been a natural disaster in my home town and while my house and family are ok, I want to go home to be with them and do volunteer work for the Red Cross.
Here's the letter:
--------------------------------------------
To those whom it might concern,
On June 21st, dry thunder storms in California started over 800 wild fires throughout the state, one of which was only a few miles from my house. For the first week, I waited in horror as the fire spread in every direction, including towards my house. For two days, my family and I were sure we would loose the house. We were incredibly lucky – the fire came within 100 feet, but with the help of a lot of firefighters it never touched the house.
Once the initial shock of potentially loosing my home had passed, I was able to take a step back and see the bigger picture. To date, the fire has burned 72,000 acres – everything within a 15 mile radius of my home. Every one of my friends and neighbors has been evacuated and several of them have lost their homes. 40 buildings have been lost and 2000 more are in danger. After two weeks of fighting, the fire is still only 5% contained and is expected to burn until at least the end of July.
The fire has been incredibly trying on my family and my community, and it’s important to me to go home and be with them. I’m signed up to volunteer with the Red Cross to do relief work as soon as I get home. I do not want to run out on this post, however, which is why I am waiting two weeks longer before going home. This post has been difficult and amazing at the same time and I feel like I’ve come so far. I’ve been through experiences like showing up work and not having a job, and spending three days in the hospital with gastro enteritis. At the same time, I have made incredible friends at work and I’ve accomplished a lot for the company. Outside of work, I’ve had amazing experiences going around Noida, Delhi, Agra, visiting my new friends at their homes, and experimenting with different Indian cuisines. While it is very important to me to go home and be with my family, it is also important to me the make the post a success, for myself, for the company, and for Princeton in Asia. I feel I can accomplish that by staying for two weeks longer and wrapping up my work, but also going home two weeks early and spending that time with my family do relief work.
Thank you,
Megan Schoendorf
---------------------------------------------
For anyone who is interested in more information about the fires in California, here are the links that I've been using to stay updated, and they in turn have more links:
http://www.kusp.org/fire/sur.html - updates about once a day, has some pictures and a good number of links to other websites
http://www.fs.fed.us/r5/lospadres/conditions/ - official updates are posted here, under the "BASIN COMPLEX FIRE" heading.
http://www.surfire2008.org/ - this is a blog kept by people in the area for unofficial updates.
For a long time I really wanted to go home, because I was miserable. In the beginning I was lonely, hated my job, and felt trapped in my guest house in the middle of nowhere. And then I got my first round of "Delhi Belly" and spent a few days dealing with bowel movements I've only experienced in Asian countries. Two weeks later I got my second round of Delhi Belly and went to the hospital for 3 days. Now that I'm finally adjusted - I have interesting things to do at work, great friends that I go to lunch with every day, a good relationship with my bosses and supervisors, and more plans than I can carry through in my remaining weekends - it's time to go home. The change in perspective came maybe 24 hours after making my decision to go home, and perhaps it was the fact that I only have 2 weeks left that is making it easier to see things in a rose colored light. Regardless, it's the right thing to do, because there has been a natural disaster in my home town and while my house and family are ok, I want to go home to be with them and do volunteer work for the Red Cross.
Here's the letter:
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To those whom it might concern,
On June 21st, dry thunder storms in California started over 800 wild fires throughout the state, one of which was only a few miles from my house. For the first week, I waited in horror as the fire spread in every direction, including towards my house. For two days, my family and I were sure we would loose the house. We were incredibly lucky – the fire came within 100 feet, but with the help of a lot of firefighters it never touched the house.
Once the initial shock of potentially loosing my home had passed, I was able to take a step back and see the bigger picture. To date, the fire has burned 72,000 acres – everything within a 15 mile radius of my home. Every one of my friends and neighbors has been evacuated and several of them have lost their homes. 40 buildings have been lost and 2000 more are in danger. After two weeks of fighting, the fire is still only 5% contained and is expected to burn until at least the end of July.
The fire has been incredibly trying on my family and my community, and it’s important to me to go home and be with them. I’m signed up to volunteer with the Red Cross to do relief work as soon as I get home. I do not want to run out on this post, however, which is why I am waiting two weeks longer before going home. This post has been difficult and amazing at the same time and I feel like I’ve come so far. I’ve been through experiences like showing up work and not having a job, and spending three days in the hospital with gastro enteritis. At the same time, I have made incredible friends at work and I’ve accomplished a lot for the company. Outside of work, I’ve had amazing experiences going around Noida, Delhi, Agra, visiting my new friends at their homes, and experimenting with different Indian cuisines. While it is very important to me to go home and be with my family, it is also important to me the make the post a success, for myself, for the company, and for Princeton in Asia. I feel I can accomplish that by staying for two weeks longer and wrapping up my work, but also going home two weeks early and spending that time with my family do relief work.
Thank you,
Megan Schoendorf
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For anyone who is interested in more information about the fires in California, here are the links that I've been using to stay updated, and they in turn have more links:
http://www.kusp.org/fire/sur.html - updates about once a day, has some pictures and a good number of links to other websites
http://www.fs.fed.us/r5/lospadres/conditions/ - official updates are posted here, under the "BASIN COMPLEX FIRE" heading.
http://www.surfire2008.org/ - this is a blog kept by people in the area for unofficial updates.
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