More thoughts

I have developed a habit here in Calcutta that I need to kick. I don't get out of the house till the late afternoon and it doesn't feel good. Tomorrow is the wedding, so after that I am committed to making plans for my days.

I finally arranged for a tour through " Kali travel home" (website: traveleastindia.com). They do walking tours through the city for a really affordable price, and the more people who join, the less it costs per person. They also cater the tour specifically to your and/ or your groups preferences. What a great idea! If I ever settle in India, I would definitely consider doing that.

I also finally went to new market in Calcutta the other day. What an adventure. It is a humongous bazaar, both outside and inside. Inside it's a totally nonsensical maze of a building and covered stalls. In the top floor there are bunch of tailors who make the clothing that is for sale downstairs. The top floor is also totally dilapidated, the corners are full of cobwebs, and entire sections are in heaps of rubble and loose metals.

Because it's just after christmas, there are still bizarre set ups of trees, lights, and pasty Santa Clauses. Very kitchy, creepy, and silly. Rebecca's family is in town and a lot of them have good cameras that take excellent pictures, so last night her brothers girlfriend took some funny pictures of us in the downtown park street area of calcutta. There were giant plastic, electronic santas and reindeer and, who would have figured, giant white electronic elephants intermittently rearing their front feet in nightmarish squeaking creaking moans. The photos come out sooo much better on a nice camera than they do on my iPod. Which brings me to my next topic.

I could just kick myself for not bringing my computer! It's really made things more difficult. Typing on my tiny little iPod is starting to drive me totally crazy. And it's not ideal having to coordinate using other people's computers. How did I ever survive without a computer!? How did people write before typewriters!? I mean, wow, the things I take for granted - not long ago everyone had to handwrite everything!

I think I might be starting to hit the point where I am getting accustomed to certain things in India that I welcomed with eyes full of curiosity and awe when I first got here. There I things I picked up right away that I had wanted to talk about and now I brush past these thoughts and observations as if they are an every day occurrence - which they are, it's true. For example, I still want to talk about Indian bathrooms and kitchen paraphernalia. (they're not related in any way, of course! I just happened to put them in the same sentence just now, lol)

Farewell Chennai, Until We Meet Again

Back in Calcutta

This is my second full day here. I had such a blast in Chennai, it was a really action packed 10 days. Things are a little slower here in Calcutta, so my body’s gone into recovery mode. I slept almost the entire day yesterday! I’m not exaggerating. I think I slept from 11pm to 11am… something like that. And then after my super late breakfast around noon, I went back to sleep from about 1:30 to 5:30. Today, I was really tempted to take a nap, yet somehow I resisted. I’m so tired right now actually. I’d really like to share some of my experiences and thoughts from this last week, so I’m going to try to write for a little while, although I’m really not sure how much sense I’ll make. Even if I wasn’t this exhausted, I’m not sure I’d really know what to say. I think I’m still trying to make sense of it all, on multiple levels.

My Chennai Chics

First of all, I had such a great time with Prtha and Kumari. They are really the most entertaining people! My god, somebody should make a reality show with them in it, or they should have their own SNL duo skit. I know I said this in my last blog, but, really, I spent this entire past week literally laughing every single day. Not just slight chuckles. Like tears in my eyes, can’t breathe, gasping for breath, stomach hurting, type of laughing. The last time I laughed like this is when my friend Sita and I traveled to Panama for two weeks back in 2008. I mean, it’s been awhile – me laughing to this extent. I freakin’ love those girls so much. They are hilarious, they are smart, they are stylish, they are friendly, they are talented – just all around awesome, awesome ladies. And I met so many fantastic people through them too. And then I met fantastic people through the fantastic people that I met through them! So these special ladies are really the foundation for the amazing time that I had.

Dance, Hope, Inspiration, and Apprehension

And dance – for the first time in years, I felt that feeling of hope and possibility and connection that I used to feel with classical Indian dance. My leg won’t be fucked up forever, it has to heal one day. My passion for dance doesn’t have to be a money guzzler, rather it can be a healthy part of my life, of how I live, full of unexpected opportunities. I feel scared, having this hope again. I’m afraid that once I go back to the States, I’m going to feel crushed again, that I’m going to feel a loss of hope, of motivation, of promise. I don’t want to live a life full of stress and disappointment. I don’t want to live a life where I give up on things because I am worried about money or about failure.

Part of me feels superstitious in the sense that I shouldn’t talk about these negative feelings. I don’t want to keep those things in my life. All those self help books I’ve been binging on for the past two years constantly talk about positive reinforcement, trust, hope, action, focusing on the good. How do I address the painful, negative feelings and experiences in my life while not letting it bog me down? How do I recognize its existence and still continue to move forward in my life? How do I allow myself to have hope and trust in myself and what life has in store for me, when I feel like life has showed me so much sadness and disappointment these last few years?

During my entire trip to India, I have met so many people who do and have done some really neat things for a living. People who are entrepreneurs, artists, researchers, philanthropists, and teachers – some who are all of the above. And it’s really inspiring to be around. Wow, these people have succeeded in doing things that I would love to do! These are people I would love to spend my time with. I have just found myself thinking over and over again, “Wow! How do I do that?  Man, if I did such and such, I would totally hire him or her. Or I would totally refer them. Or I’d love to collaborate with this person, we’d be a really good team. Or, gosh, if I had the right in, I’d would rock at doing that.”

Just feeling that level of positivity, freedom, and openness is something I am really grateful for. It’s in such juxtaposition to where I was this time last year - I don’t take this for granted at all. The thing that scares me a little is that these are all just feelings. Do I have it in me to go ahead and do something with this reawakened part of me or am I going to pull away and hide out of fear of failure? I don’t know. I certainly hope beyond hope that my life and myself begin to blossom again. I don’t know how well I’ll be able to handle more of feeling trampled by life when I get back to the States. To be honest, part of me doesn’t want to go back. Part of me wants to stay here, start a business, focus on dancing again – things I wanted to do years ago, but somehow got waylaid and sidetracked. A dream deferred – like Langston Hughes’ poem.

I know I haven’t really talked about anything concrete yet. Instead, I’ve rambled on and on, without giving any actual examples of the people and situations that display what I’m talking about. I think because it just feels a little overwhelming to do so right now. I want to do the people I’ve been around and the experiences I’ve had they justice they deserve in my writing, which I’m a little too tired and muddled for at the moment.

Props to More Awesome People in My Life

My gosh! Rebecca and Abhijeet’s wedding is right around the corner! I am so happy for them and for me. For them, because they are getting married and they are both so compatible. They balance each other out and even in stressful times (like preparing for a wedding) find so much support and comfort in each other. It’s a beautiful thing to have a relationship like they have. I hope to one day find a relationship with that level of connection and compatibility. And I’m so happy for me, because I would never have taken this trip if it hadn’t have been for them getting married, for Rebecca stepping forward the way she did to encourage me to come. This whole trip has been such a blessing.

And I want to thank my grandparents who surprised me this past week with their present! If you’re reading this, you know what I’m talking about! How cool is it to have your grandparents surprise you when you’re halfway around the world?! Way cool, that’s how cool.

Chennai, Popularity, and Balls of Goof

The days are going by so fast here. I can’t believe it’s already Thursday! Yesterday (Wednesday) I couldn’t remember what day it was. I thought it was Wednesday, but I was desperately hoping it wasn’t. So, I was thinking, “could it be Tuesday? Oh my gosh! That would be I have an entire extra day than I would have if it were Wednesday!” I’m here until Monday and I arrived last Thursday, so it’s about a 10 day trip. Our days are so packed, and we’re having such a blast, I’m just trying to fit in as much as possible into everyday. We’re all in a constant state of exhaustion, but it’s like we’re having a week of celebrations, so we’re resisting spending a day doing nothing.

And we’re super popular. Everyone invites us out, everyone talks to us. Admittedly, Indian girls don’t seem to like us much. We’re an entirely different creature from most Indian girls, I think. I would love to make friends with more Indian girls – they just don’t seem to be particularly interested, or perhaps they are more cautious about us. Indian guys, on the other hand, invite us everywhere. And they are such gentlemen. They make sure we always have a ride, so they either send a taxi or pick us up themselves. They treat us to lunch or dinner. They show us around. And they are extremely patient with us and our crazy antics. I tend to be more reserved in that sense, keeping my silliness somewhat in check, but Prtha and Kumari are completely, outrageously, and unapologetically silly.

In some ways, these young, modern Indians don’t quite know what to make of us, but they have no end of entertainment, and usually they are really good sports. And I think they find it fascinating how comfortable we are with India and Indian culture. We know the movies, the songs, the clothes, the religion etc, etc, etc (many times more than they do themselves) and it’s something we’ve been exposed to our entire lives, so it’s natural for us, which is fairly rare for Westerners – at least to the same degree that we are.

In addition, Kumari speaks Tamil quite well. I’m also remembering a lot from my courses years ago in Tamil, it’s exciting how much I’m remembering. Kumari especially, and myself to some extent, speak Tamil regularly. I also read Tamil script – the one thing I haven’t forgotten at all from my Tamil courses. And people love it when we speak Tamil. Even if it’s an extremely simple sentence, or a few words here and there – it just makes people’s day. All in all, it’s admittedly fun when people are so shocked by our familiarity with India and Indian culture.

I’m having a difficult time figuring out how to describe what I mean when I say that Prtha and Kumari are silly. I almost feel like you’d have to know them: their tone of voice, their mannerisms, their facial expressions, their brilliant comedic timing, in order to really get it. Kumari is an absolute master at imitating Tamil English – she has absorbed the intonations and sentence structure. And she’ll just pop out with it at any given moment, particularly at restaurants and in stores. It totally confuses people, so they play it safe and respond to her seriously. Sometimes I can’t help but feel like they know she is pulling their leg and I feel a little bad for them. Somehow she usually just charms them to no end and receives the outrageous requests that she makes. For example, she just so innocently and assuredly requests free things, or as she sometimes calls them this week, Christmas specials. And they will be all up in a flurry, asking the manager, running here and there. And then they come back and, so politely it breaks my heart, they say to her something like: “I’m sorry madam, we do not have any free items. All these people here, we would have to give, madam. We cannot do this.” And she won’t give up: “Please, sir. Just this once, we can have special? I really, really want the fudge brownie. It’s Christmas time, sir. Sir? Please, sir, please!”

Or, Prtha, for example. The other day we were waiting for a table at this vegetarian Italian restaurant called “Little Italy.” This adorable little 9 year old Tamil girl was hanging out in the lobby because she was tired of sitting with her family at the dinner table. She spoke great English and she found us quite interesting. I can’t remember the details of everything we were talking about, but I was telling her that I have a 10 year old sister, and she was comparing notes between herself and what I told her about my sister. Anyway, Prtha joins in, and as is the case with both Prtha and Kumari, at a certain point in most of these conversations I feel obliged to explain to the recipient of their silliness that they are in fact simply being silly – because, really, sometimes people genuinely can’t tell. So I say to the little girl about Prtha, “Oh, she’s just being a goof ball, don’t listen to her.” And Prtha looks at the little girl and asks in her heavy valley girl accent that she uses 24/7 here in India  (yep, most people cannot understand for the life of them what she is saying, her accent’s that strong), anyway, Prtha says, “You know what a goofball is right?” And the little girl looks up at here bemusedly and sort of nods her head, and Prtha says irreverently, valley girl accent and all, nodding her head affirmatively, face all innocence and sincerity, “It’s a ball of goof!” It was so absurd, I couldn’t stop laughing. Even when I walked to the bathroom I was suffering from unexpected fits of stifled giggles.

Yesterday a friend of ours took us out to the mall. I don’t think he realized what he was in for when he invited us. We all had a really good time, but he definitely underestimated our shopping stamina. After lunch, we stayed at the store, Fabindia, for an hour or something. I actually had to leave at a certain point because I was laughing inconsolably at Prtha and Kumari. It was the type of uncontrollable laugh when you are witnessing something so outrageous, so bold, so shocking that you are simultaneously horrified and entertained. I feel this especially so because a lot of the innuendos, mannerisms, and sarcasm that the girls dish out to people is just so completely lost on the recipients of their antics.

For example, we were all looking at the clothes in Fabindia, and Kumari folds one up and places it back in the stack, thoughtfully saying, “I am an excellent folder, I fold clothes really well. I should work here.” And she looks over at the closest guy, her unfortunate… or fortunate… victim of attention and says in her most innocent and sincere way, “Are you hiring by any chance sir? I would make a lovely assistant. Look how nicely I fold the clothes, I think I’d bring a lot to the table as an employee here.” And the man is just baffled, he’s stupefied, because part of him knows she is goofing off, but the other part of him has to treat her as if she isn’t because she’s a customer and for all he knows, she could absolutely be serious. The thing is, she doesn’t stop at that. She draws out a conversation like this forever – it’s like I’m in a continuous, traveling, unscripted, SNL scene. Kumari is the Borat of Tamil Nadu.

            Later, as we were leaving the mall, we walked by children’s Christmas rides – the kind you have to put the coins in to make work. Of course, we didn’t actually want to ride them, we are way to large for those tiny rides, but we did want to take a picture on one of them. So our friend was taking pictures of us and out comes this lady from nowhere, madly scurrying towards us. As she hurriedly approaches, she is making that noise people make to scare off cats and is waving her hands at us in a shooing gesture. “No, not for you. Go. Go, get off there!” Props to her. She is one of the few people who isn’t going to take any of anyone’s shenanigans, particularly not ours. We did get some pictures, though, so one's included here.

I'm still figuring out how picture posting works. Today it's posting within the paragraphs, which I'm happy about, because before it would only upload at the end. But I am having a hard time pulling it to the section I want it to be in...

Chennai, Dance, & Auto Drivers

I don’t even know where to start. It’s been a hurricane of a weekend here in Chennai (Madras). I arrived here on Thursday night and had a fantastically exhausting time shopping with Prtha all day Friday, while Kumari was preparing for her Bharata Natyam dance performance for Sunday. Went out Friday evening and got a glimpse of Chennai nightlife. Got literally less than 2 hours of sleep because I had to wake up at 4:30 am to go and help out with my dance teacher’s weekend-long dance and music event. I haven’t seen my dance teacher in 6 years! And then Sunday night we hung out with some of Prtha and Kumari’s friends till the morning hours.

Dance & My Life Crisis

I’m at a loss for words. Spending the entire weekend being surrounded by fusion and South Indian music and dance, has been very… emotionally interesting for me… I don’t know how to describe it. I spent my entire teenage years with my heart set on becoming a professional Bharata Natyam dancer and then, after a series of incidents, I slowly stopped dancing. The first big blow was an injury 6 years ago from dance that still affects me to this day. And from that point on, it seemed that everything gradually ground to a halt. The past few years, I’ve pretty much scoffed at the memory of those dreams: “Be a professional artist? Make a living doing what I’m passionate about? What world was I living in?! How could I be so naïve?! People rarely get that, why should I be one of the few? Who do I think I am to get something that awesome in life?! What was I thinking?!”

This weekend, though, it felt so real, so possible - not this self-indulgent, silly, starry-eyed, naïve, romantic, unrealistic, extravagant, grandiose, fantasy pipe dream reverie I had for myself at all. Yep – really, all those words, that’s how I’ve been feeling about my dance aspirations these past years. And being here in Chennai, where I used to study dance, being surrounded by artists all weekend, I remembered how and why this dream did not seem unrealistic or impractical to me.

Chennai is one of the main hubs of music and dance in India, both classical and fusion. There are so many artists here, living the lives of artists – they are teaching and composing and performing and collaborating. And they are very well respected for being both chroniclers of the past and innovators of the present in their respective art forms. They uphold the art, tradition, collective memory, and aspirations of their communities, both global and local, expressing and exploring both spiritual and material experiences. They reflect societal issues and concerns in what and how they choose to present their art. Of course, there are, as always, the hardships too.

My biggest issue with the classical Indian performing and visual art system here is the general approach to the teacher-student/guru-shishya relationship. Ideally, it is a support system of honor and respect. In reality I find that it is often misused. I don’t like when students basically become the servants of their gurus, in the sense that they are constantly putting their own personal interests aside in order to please the teacher. I feel that it is easy for the teacher to take advantage of this. For example, they are receiving payment for classes and training, but when it’s in conjunction with their students never getting paid performances, I don’t understand how that is sustainable. How is a student supposed to continue intensive dance training if they’re not offered paid opportunities? Also, what happens sometimes is that the teacher monopolizes the training of the student, where it is not okay for the student to train from other dance teachers in the same style. And during classes, there is a tendency here to critique, criticize, and correct a student’s dancing, and neglect any positive reinforcement or constructive encouragement. Yet so many people still continue to study dance, despite all of this. Meanwhile, I feel these things can constructively be adjusted in context with our changing society and the things we now know about psychology, education, and learning.

My injury aside, if I did decide to get back in to dance, am I willing to put up with these aspects of the tradition? If I feel I need to address this issue head-on in order to continue with this dance, am I prepared to deal with the consequences? How do I even start?

My Chennai Friends & Auto Drivers

Prtha – aka pritata/pretunia, and Kumari – aka kumomo/kumonkey. They are 20 and 21, I’m 26, and I’ve known them since they were just little wee lassies. Now it doesn’t feel like much of an age difference, whereas when I was in my late teens, they were like… 10 or something, you know. Now they’re these two silly, rambunctious, elegant, intelligent, composed, goofy, talented, awesome ladies and I admire and adore them. They’re both pranksters, so I’ve been on some level of a continuous state of amusement since I’ve arrived here in Chennai. There are times, though, that I just have to scold them in my mommy way on the rare occasion when I think they take it too far. They’re mainly pranksters with auto drivers, who are pretty hard ass here in Chennai. Other than that, they walk around Chennai being just plain silly.

Oh, those auto drivers. It’s different everywhere you go in India. All Indian autos that I’ve ever seen (yellow with a black roof, no doors, one wheel in front, two in back) have meters in them. In Calcutta, the autos don’t use their meters, but they have a fixed price. How they do it, is they have routes they go on, and they pick people up along the way and drop them off along the way. I think it’s called a shared auto or something. Anyway, in Calcutta, there’s no bargaining because it’s a fixed, fair price. In Chennai, meters are never used. And the prices are outrageous in comparison to Calcutta, even if you divide the price you pay here into 4, which is how many people the Calcutta shared auto drivers make sure they have.

And the auto drivers in Chennai are relentless. You have to bargain hard core with them. And even if they agree on a price when you get in, much of the time they will try to raise the price when you get to your destination, arguing that it took longer than it should have, some road or other was closed off or was one-way, or that we didn’t tell them the right location, blaah blaah blaah. My approach is not to get too riled up with them, to sort of calmly press my price while they assert their own outrageous sums, and then finally mutually concede to some price slightly higher then my original offer. Sometimes, we just don’t agree on a price and they drive off or I walk away. Sometimes, we find a mutually acceptable, if not ideal, price, and head off to our destination. Admittedly, I can be a bit of a softy. I’m not very ruthless – which can be detrimental, particularly when others are fully prepared to be ruthless to get their own way, which is not a rare occurrence in India. But, so far, I don’t feel that I’ve been cheated terribly except for at Kalighat, which I still feel utterly indignant about (refer to the Kalighat blog post if you don’t know what I’m talking about).

New friends, family, exploring solo, the metro, and paper airplanes

Hurray for the Wonderful People in My Life!

Today is my two week anniversary for arriving in India. Has it been that long? Has it only been that long? I’ll be heading down to Chennai tomorrow evening to visit two of my friends and our Bharata Natyam dance teacher and her family for a week and a half. I’m looking forward to it! There is a special place in my heart for South India – particularly Tamil Nadu. The culture and language have a certain… something… for me. How to describe it? There’s a richness, a warmth, a familiarity, an earthiness… Plus, I have a lot of memories connected with Chennai. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I arrived in India this time. It’s been 6 years! The last two times I spent in India were in Chennai/Madras (which is in Tamil Nadu), for about three months each time. I am also a huge lover of South Indian textiles and gold jewelry. I’ve been shopping around a little bit for gold earrings for my little sister, as well as noserings, and a pair of bangles for myself, and I just haven’t been entirely satisfied with the quality, selection, and style. Maybe I just can’t commit to any gold jewelry until I see the selection they have in Chennai.

I’ve been going through a bit of a helpless phase. I’m not sure helpless is exactly the right word… Apathetic, lackadaisical, listless – those are better words. Sometimes, when it comes to taking care of practical things for myself (like researching plane tickets, filling out forms, researching volunteer opportunities, planning a day out in a new place where I don’t know the language, figuring out how to solve the technical glitch in my ipod – things like that), I will procrastinate and find anything else to do to avoid dealing with it. Sometimes, not always. I mean, when it comes to helping somebody else do those things, I’m all about it, I grab the bull by the horns and get it taken care of. The world is my oyster… or the other person’s oyster… and everything is possible and I’m excited to help the other person figure it out. Doing it for myself is another matter entirely. Well, thank the baby Jesus for my dad! Yes, he’ll kvetch and give me a hard time about it. He’ll get all riled up and get on my case (“Why didn’t you do this days ago?! How hard is it to just look it up?! Geeze, it only takes a minute! What were you thinking?!”) but then, like the super hero dad that he is, he swoops in and pulls things together for me. Of course, I have to sit on the phone with him for hours on end, through the long silences of him doing research, listening to him bring up old stories of when I did something like this before, him repeating himself a bazillion times in every possible way that the English language allows to make sure I really, fully understand and consider ALL the possible options that could possibly happen in a bazillion different types of circumstances and how I would deal with the situation in every possible scenario (I’m not exaggerating, if you know him you totally know what I mean). And still, to this day, I’d rather sit through long hours of that instead of just taking care of it by myself? Somehow, yes. And, to clarify, I’m not always like this at all – but there are just some things and some times, that, yes, I absolutely would rather sit through hours of that than do it for myself.

And then it’s always fantastic to have a friend swoop in and help me out too. I mean, thank goodness for skype, and the internet, and the phone, and facebook, and social networking sites. Kudos to all the people who invented those things – you’ve really set the stage for making my life easier. Better? It depends on how you define better. Simpler? I would think not. Easier? Hell yes. Combine those things with an awesome friend = awesomeness! Thank you Ari for finding me all those super cool websites for travel buddies and volunteering opportunities! You’re the best-est ;-) I get overwhelmed when I have too many options: too many websites to choose from, too many plane tickets that are different prices to choose from, too much information on how to fix my ipod in the help menu, etc, etc, etc, etc. And then awesome people like Ari are like, “here you go, I looked it up, and here are four for you to choose from.” End of story. And, yay! I don’t have to know or even think about how there were actually 1000s of websites that came up in the search that I’m not looking at and that may actually be the one I’m looking for, and I’m missing out because I didn’t look at just one more – you know, that next choice, the one I didn’t look at.

Exploring Solo

So another thing I’ve been a little intimidated by and lackadaisical about, is getting myself out of the house and exploring on my own. I’m really slow in the morning, first of all – whether I’m feeling apathetic or not. And then by the time I’m about ready to get going, around noon, Rebecca comes home from her Bengali class at AIIS. So then I eat lunch with Rebecca and Abhijeet. Afterwards, I find myself in a sort of waiting limbo. Usually Rebecca’s figuring out her plans for the day, particularly she checks in to see if her and Abhijeet have anything they need to do. If she’s free, we figure what we want to do. So, we haven’t been getting out of the house till 2 at the earliest, sometimes not until 4 or 5pm. I’ve finally realized that I need to get myself out of the house, I need to make plans for myself and make sure I go out and see the sites and check out the neighborhoods for myself. Otherwise I just spend my time feeling indecisive and restless. To top it all off, I’m pushing myself out of my comfort zone. It is much easier for me to go places with a friend and have a travel buddy: you get lost together, you share experiences and memories together, you eat together. The intimidating part for me is that I’m in a new city, surrounded by a language I don’t know, and I’m quite obviously not Indian either – so there’s no blending in when I’m craving a sense of anonymity. But, hurray, I have finally really started to go out on my own. It feels good to push myself out of my comfort zone and do things I am hesitant about and intimidated by. It also feels a little lonely. But at the same time, I also get to do whatever I want to do, for however long I want. I don’t always do that though… Anyway, there are pros and cons, and, who knows, maybe I’ll be a rockin’ fearless solo explorer by the end of all this.

The Metro System

By the way, they have this awesome metro system here in Kolkata. Yesterday, I was returning home from a solo outing on Park Street. It was around 6:30pm and the metro was packed. Not packed in the Western sense of the word. Not packed like sardines. Breathless, squished, absolutely immoveable, human body odor, can’t hear a thing, can’t see a thing packed. So packed that the woman next to me had her saree stuck in the door, that’s how pack it was. We were going along, and I couldn’t for the life of me keep track of where I was. Fortunately I asked somebody right in the nick of time when the Kalighat stop (my stop) would be coming up. I asked because I could not hear the announcement amid the din, which is normally perfectly loud and clear, by the way. I asked because I could not see the many many large signs when we got to each of the metro station stop along the way. I asked because I could not see any of the many many signs along the upper walls of the metro bus itself, which are usually very easy to see and written in clear English.

And I have no idea whatsoever how I got out of that metro bus when my stop came along. I am a tall woman as far as women go here in India. I am slender, but I am strong – I have those sturdy German bones that serve me well when the need to elbow my way through a crowd comes along. I got out of there, barely, and I am not a frail petite woman, like many Indian women can be. I mean, some of these women are just tiny, it’s amazing. People talk about being trampled for Black Friday in America? They have no idea. I cannot believe that people don’t suffocate while on the metro bus during rush hour. I cannot believe people don’t get trampled. I cannot believe that the metro bus doors don’t burst at the seams.

My New Friend

I met Abhijeet’s 10 year old nephew yesterday afternoon. He is the greatest kid ever. I wish I had met him sooner, then I would have had a little travel buddy to do fun things with like go to the movies, or the zoo, or the children’s museum, or the botanical gardens, or have yummy yummy ice cream with. I think I like kids so much because basically I’m a kid and I like doing kid things. Out of all the things to do in the world in one’s life, kid things are the most fun. For example, he and I spent the evening making all different kinds of paper airplanes. He speaks mostly Bengali and a little bit of English, actually quite a bit of English, but he doesn’t say that much to me in English. Even though I know he can, he’d rather just babble on to me in Bengali, with lots of hand gestures and make lots of facial expressions to help convey to me what he is saying. And I do the same with him, but in English. I am learning more Bengali already! After we made a few airplanes and flew them around a little bit, he decided he wanted to draw some pilots, cut them out and then tape them in the airplanes. After that he decided he wanted to make a paper airplane airport. So now we have this huge, carefully organized line of paper airplanes parked in my room here, all lined up and ready for take-off. After a lot of asking, and more asking, and prodding, and being annoying, I finally convinced everybody that we should all go see Puss In Boots 3D with him at the theater near here today. Hurray! I am so excited. I’m actually headed to the theater now, I have to buy the tickets there and then we’ll all go back together at 3:30. Going on the metro again, alone, going to a part of town I haven’t been before, alone. I’m proud of myself, I can do it!

Victoria Memorial Outing

Not speaking the language is getting a little frustrating. I want to interact with people, I have questions, I want to get to know people. But I can’t speak the language and the majority of Bengalis I have been around do not speak English, or speak only a tiny bit more English than I do of Bengali. It would be so much easier to get around if I knew the language! I must exercise patience, forcing it is not going to make it happen any faster. Luckily, Rebecca’s been teaching me. We had a cute little lesson last night. She taught me some numbers (good to know when bartering!), and taught me some of the colors (very helpful when it comes to saree shopping!) I have been lagging on learning the script. I’m halfway through the vowels (there are 12). I know the devanagari script (Hindi & Sanskrit scripts), and while this script is different, there are a few similarities, so I guess the odds are leaning in my favor in that respect.

Yesterday Rebecca and I did our first tourist, sight-seeing type thing. I thought it would be nice to have some fresh air, be in some open space. So we went to the Chowringhee part of town, where the Maidan and the Victoria Memorial are. So much for fresh clean air. Be grateful all of you over there in the States! Kolkata is clouded over in an incessant haze of air pollution. I still have only seen the sun through a screen of smog since I’ve been here. On the other hand, so far I haven’t experienced the cliché of absolute squalor that is associated with Calcutta (I mean, don’t you think of Mother Teresa and the film “Salaam Bombay!” when you think of Calcutta?) Fyi – I think many Calcuttans resent that stereotype – so if you meet someone from here, make sure that’s not your first topic of conversation. Better to bring up the other stereotype of Bengali’s being poets, writers, bohemians, and revolutionaries. Better even to bring up the stereotype that the men are effeminate (although I think the colonial British were just jealous because the Bengali’s were far more gentlemanly and intellectual than they would ever be. Just a theory…).

Okay, so, yes, there is poverty here. And, no, I definitely have not been to all parts of Calcutta. Yet I have not (yet) noticed any more poverty here than I have in other parts of India. In fact, I’ve noticed less here so far, particularly in contrast to other cities, like Jaipur for instance. Or perhaps the poverty-stricken Calcuttans are more mild than in other parts of India. I mean, I’ve experienced people hounding me, I’ve seen Westerners in Jaipur surrounded by yelling beggars, I’ve been followed by poor young women and girls carrying babies. I’ve seen (what looks like) miles of dilapidated cardboard hut neighborhoods, and whole families living under overpasses. So while any poverty tugs on my heartstrings, I haven’t found Calcutta any worse than any other part of India.

So coming back to the topic of our Maidan (pronounced more like ‘moidan’) and Victoria Memorial outing. I read up a little before we went out. Of course I referred to my Lonely Planet “Northeast India” guidebook. I was even more eager, though, to open up my newly acquired “Calcutta: A Cultural and Literary History” by Krishna Dutta. I borrowed it from the school where Rebecca studies language: American Institute of Indian Studies. I had met up with her there the day before to have lunch with her and her two teachers: Prashanjeet Da (‘Da’ is like older brother and considered a term of respect) and Protima Di (‘Di’ like older sister, also considered respectful). They’re both really great and welcomed me to the school with a lot of warmth. This particular book just called out to me, and I’m really glad I found it. I highly recommend it to anyone who plans on visiting here.

As the title suggests, Victoria Memorial is a memorial to Queen Victoria, who died in 1901, I believe. Lord Curzon was viceroy of India at the time, and pulled together enough money to start building this Taj Mahal/White House-like palace in her honor. It wasn’t finished until about 20 years later and he was no longer Viceroy by then. Actually, I don’t even think the building of it started until after he left India and his position of Viceroy. Now it’s a museum. And, lovely, they charge foreigners 150 rupees, while Indians pay 10 rupees! Okay, so 150 is only $3, but compared to 10 rupees – isn’t that a bit much?! My guidebook said foreigners pay 50 rupees. Well that needs to be updated. Honestly, I find it insulting, perhaps wrongly so, but the fact is I do. I just find the price difference insane and I’ve seen this before elsewhere. One drastic example: in 2006, when I was studying dance in Chennai, somebody was even charging for yoga something like 100 rupees for Indians and 1000 rupees ($20) for foreigners. That was just too insulting, I didn’t take the class. I have a better idea – make people bring proof of income and charge them based on that, because, I can tell you right now, probably half of the Indians going to that museum have a larger income than I do.

On the bright side, I really enjoyed the exhibits. The older I get, the more I take after my father in this regard. I didn’t realize the extent of it until yesterday though. Poor Rebecca was just at the end of her rope by the time we left and I didn’t even have a chance to thoroughly look at everything to my full satisfaction. Not even close! I remember when I was a kid and it felt like my dad was reading every damn description allllllllll the way through each and every step of the way when we were at museums or historical sites. It would drive me crazy, I just didn’t get it. And now look at me! In my defense, the artwork and exhibits at the Victoria Memorial were exactly my interests historically and artistically, so I was having a really hard time pulling myself away. And Rebecca was being incredibly patient considering that there was only one exhibit that she was at all interested in (the awesome Kalighat paintings. Wow, they were really fantastic. As luck would have it, the exhibit closes today, so we got there in the nick of time. Mom – you would just absolutely love that exhibit. Look up some examples on Google. My favorites were the paintings based on social and political commentary). I hope to go again before the end of my trip, next time I won’t drag poor Rebecca along. I’ll make sure I go on my own so I can marinate to my full selfish satisfaction in the awesome artistic history that surrounding me. But, I warn you, I am going to be outraged all over again about that damn entrance fee!

There are tons of royal looking horse-drawn carriages along the road to Victoria Memorial. They are covered with silver, or mirrors, or gold and beautifully etched designs. They also offer horse-back riding, although not in the Western sense. These are scruffy, undernourished donkey-looking horses. I felt so sad for this one little baby horse. I still can’t stop thinking about it. It was this little brown one and it had this gaping wound in the side of it’s neck. There were all these gnats and flies that wouldn’t leave it alone. And I could tell it was really itchy for the poor thing, cuz it kept rubbing it’s neck against the stone fence! I sat down to pet the little guy for awhile, he kept trying to rub his wound against me for relief. I felt so sad and helpless, I just didn’t know what to do to help it. I kept thinking of Shyama, cuz she’s this incredible horse person and she would know just what to do to soothe and nurture the poor thing. Shyama, if you’re reading this, you need to fly over here and give some lovin’ to this poor baby!

So, I have a confession to make. I’m an addict and I’m going to be suffering from serious withdrawals when I return to the States. Cha and Daab. It’s everywhere around here, available on every corner and somebody who has a weakness for it should just not be in this city. “Oh no! What is cha and daab?!” you’re probably wondering. Fine, I’ll share my secret with you. Cha: piping hot (literally!) spiced milk tea served out of an unfired biodegradable clay cup, preferably. And the cup is always tiny, by the way. Yep, tiny. Like about 4 ounces tiny, maybe even less. And, shockingly, it is the perfect amount. It’s the standard size around here. American’s would be scandalized, it’s so small. But, think about it – aren’t pistachios so much better when you take them out of the shell yourself? You just savor it all the more, right? There is absolutely nowhere else where tea is this damn good. It just can’t be replicated. Oh yeah, and daab: fresh baby coconut juice straight out of the coconut (also biodegradable!). It tastes nothing like the bottled and canned baby coconut juice that is all the rage in the States these days. It tastes a million billion infinity times better. Yet another aspect of being here in India that just makes me swoon with ecstasy.

I forgot to mention. India has all of these hilarious garbage cans. It’s clearly very difficult to convince people to use the damn garbage can. I even see really modern educated looking Indians my age littering shamelessly. Well, the other day, this girl littered on the side walk and it didn’t look so shameless – she surreptitiously dropped it as she was casually walking along. Oh, honey - that wasn’t by mistake, you knew you were throwing that piece of trash on the ground and the way you did it I could tell you knew better! Anyway, back to the garbage cans - they’re often in the shape of animals, like rabbits or alligators. As we were leaving the Victoria Memorial, I saw my favorite one to date: a scary, gargoyle-like, rumplestiltskin face. Wouldn’t that scare people away from throwing out their trash?!

Shoot, I had photos all set for this blog and now I'm having a hard time posting them. If I figure it out, I'll post them later.

Disclaimer, sarees, and stuffy noses

A Disclaimer is in Order

So, just feeling like it's time for some clarifications. This blog consists of totally unedited journal entries. I'm also using my tiny ipod touch to write most of the time, so it feels daunting to edit and double check my work. I mean - I'm typing with my friggin thumbs, for god's sake! My priority right now is to keep my friends and family up-to-date with my experiences here in India. If that means lagging on the editing, so be it. Strangers are welcome too, of course - this is a public blog. Anyway, I'd be tickled pink to know that people who don't even know me would be bothered to read something I write.

And, yes, I am totally biased. This is not an academic paper, nor a journalistic study. If you are interested in knowing more about anything I talk about - refer to other, more reliable sources... like wikipedia - that's always 100% accurate ;-) Yes - I'm being sarcastic. On the other hand, it's great for a quick/general overview to get one started. If I happen to know of other resources, I'll try to remember to share them.

Oh yeah. I misspelled Kalighat in a previous entry. I think I was spelling it Kaligat before. I kind of knew I was misspelling it at the time, but I was too lazy to double check. Also, I think I described Kalighat at the time as a town. The word I was looking for was neighborhood.

Lastly, I am by no means a great mind for learning new languages. I enjoy it, but learning a new language does not come to me like moths to a flame, rather a new language for me is like trying to hold water in the cup of my hands - it seems to constantly be slipping out of my grasp. I learn a word or a phrase, and I promptly forget it. Only after being told 4 or more times, or hearing it repeatedly every single day, do I remember things. To prove my point: I took Spanish in high school, I've done a semester in Hindi (and have watched Hindi movies a gazillion bazillion times), and I took a year of Tamil. It has never been an easy ride, and I still don't speak or comprehend anywhere near fluently, not even close, at all. SO - take my language sections with a grain of salt, because I am bound to make mistakes that will make anyone who knows the languages I am talking about cringe. For example, if you read my last entry, I shared that I ask "nam ka" all the time - basically meaning something like 'name is?' Well, no wonder I didn't always get an answer, no wonder people were looking at me quizzically when I asked that! It's a nonsensical word, that's why! 'Ka' doesn't have a meaning in Bengali. 'Ki' does though. So, I stand corrected. Maybe I'll have more luck from this point on when I ask that question...

I'd really like to be perfect, flawless, and all-knowing. Unfortunately, it's not going to happen in this lifetime. As far as this blog goes - I'll be working on letting go and being okay with making silly mistakes, particularly this publicly :-) If you have alternate information, or a language correction, or a similar/different experience, definitely post it in the comments section. It will make this blogging experience that much more interactive! I was surprised to see, last time I checked, that I had almost 300 reads total of this blog. That sounds like a lot to me... Perhaps my same five friends are just reading it over and over! Wow, they must really love me! ;-) On a more serious note, a lot of people have sent me messages and little notes, telling me that they are really enjoying my blog. Thank you so much for your feedback, it makes me feel really good to know that people are enjoying this, particularly in the light that I've had a long run of feeling not very good at anything in particular. Some people like my writing?! Yay, I have something to offer the world that I happen to also enjoy!

Saree Search & Banana Leaf Dinner

We went saree searching yesterday. Now that Rebecca has her wedding saree, it is time for us to get sarees for her female family members. Plus, I needed a saree too! Rebecca had a lot more fun this time because we were shopping for other people. She really just isn't into shopping, especially when it's for herself. It can be a little painful sometimes trying to help her, cuz sometimes it's almost like she is resisting it and I have to just keep encouraging her and finding options for her and telling her what I think looks good on her, and then finally she warms up a little. But it leaves us both exhausted by the end of it! She keeps joking that I should be the one getting married, cuz I am all blissed out on the saree shopping and the jewelry shopping. Plus I'm more interested in this kind of thing. Funny thing is, back in America I rarely go shopping for fun things like clothes and jewelry. It's just that I love Indian textiles and jewelry. The textures, color combinations, unlimited variety of styles and designs - really, it's like I'm in heaven. Even though I'm not buying anything for me, I'm just - I'm a kid in a candy shop and sarees and jewelry are my candy. I mean seriously, it's sensory bliss for me. Plus I get to learn about culture, history, and geography - cuz I'm always making sure to ask what each style's name is, where it's from, etc. Every style has a story, has a time in history, has town or city that it originated in, and a material that is unique. To top it off, they spoil us with complimentary chai and coffee!

I got this incredible saree that they told us is Parsi. That means, this style comes from the Parsi's (Persians) who came from Iran to India forever ago to escape religious persecution (they were Zoroastrian). I don't know that much about them, I'll have to look it up later. But it felt really significant to me for some reason. It is really just this royal saree. It's also the most I've ever spent on a saree, which is nothing compared to what some sarees cost, but it's definitely a fancy shmancy one. I also knew that I wanted to get a really decadent one this trip. Well, this one is damn decadent already. I'm really excited. We bought it at one of the oldest saree shops in Calcutta (at least according to Abhijeet). It's called Adi Dhakeswari, down the road from us, in the Goriahat neighborhood. They have black and white pictures of all the famous people who've come to their shop over the years. They also have this really old cash register that they actually still use. They used it when I paid for my saree, so I can absolutely vouch for that!

By the end of the day, we were exhausted, so Rebecca and I stopped at a South Indian restaurant on the way back called Banana Leaf. We've been there twice before actually. Basically, it's close and it's yummy and it costs less than $10 to feed 4 people! They're really sweet there too. And they're actually Tamil, so when Rebecca said "Rumba Nundri" (Tamil, which means "thank you very much"), the man was first shocked and then let out a delighted laugh and burst out in a beaming grin. He thought it was the sweetest thing that she could speak Tamil. We ordered take out, so they rolled up 4 banana leaves for us to take home to eat off of.

We're all fighting off a cold here. The only person who is unscathed by it is Baba. The rest of us are coughing, and congested, and stuffy headed. I bought some tissues yesterday and the box is hilarious. Here's a picture. Rebecica found it particularly funny that out of all the uses listed for a tissue, the most common use is the one they listed last. Silly, silly.