Final ramblings

Today was my last day and I spent it in Delhi. I got wet in the morning from rain and wet in the evening from water balloons, but had a great time. (The water balloons are for the start of Holi, a crazy holiday where people throw water and paint on each other and generally go nuts... I luckily only got water on me - took a balloon in the shoulder, one grazed my leg, and a third hit me squarely in the back of the neck. I just kept walking, there's not much else you can do! Yay for quick-dry clothing.)

Some final impressions of India (odds and ends from my journal that I forgot to post):

- The transport trucks in India are like no other. They are painted and decorated like it's a permanent cheesy holiday (kind of is, in India... each year contains over 100 Hindu festivals alone), with primary colours everywhere, pictures and portraits, gold embellishment, gold streamers, and more dangly bits (also preferrably gold). The horns are also obnoxious, playing piercing bits of 'music', i.e. annoying major thirds or other intervals, or half a scale at best. Oh, India. But where else in the world would a trucker have a scene of his favourite gods and goddesses painted on the side of his rig??

- There are poisonous snakes here. Small and green and cute looking (I saw one, right before Dhiren killed it with his flip flop), but definitely deadly. Thought I'd save that one until I was safely out of snake territory.

- Sugar cane is officially my favourite new snack. Not only is it sweet and juicy and dribbly and messy, but it's a good challenge to eat. I feel like such a fierce vegetarian, ripping off the bark with my canines and gnawing on the fibrey goodness, sugar cane juice dripping down my chin.

- Everyone's favourite line here is, "How do you feel?" How do I feel about India, about the people, about this state or that state, about the train, the bus, about leaving India, about staying in India and marrying so-and-so's son (yes, this proposition is common, and in everyone's opinion, is the obvious and best option for me). But sometimes I misinterpret this phrase, such as on a crowded uncomfortable train ("How do you feel?" "A little squished"), or when talking about stomach health problems ("How do you feel?" "Well, this morning in the bathroom...").

- Hindus have a set of somewhat strict rules to live by. I recently found out that this list includes restrictions on when you can and can't cut your nails. (I would be toast in this society; I'm a nailclipper addict.) Then again, one woman told me you can clip your nails on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday while another man told me it's only on Tuesday, Wednesday and Saturday. Hmmm.

- My doctor made me promise not to eat street food while I was here. The other day I realized why: looking out the bus window, I was treated to a show of a local snack vendor picking his nose for about 10 minutes, then picking up his pail of snack mix and climbing onto the bus ahead to dish out portions to hungry travellers, using his bare hands.

And that's all folks. I'm out of material, I think because I'm actually used to daily life here now. I am no longer suprised by cows in the middle of the road, I have stopped snapping candid photos of old women in saris, and hassles from rickshaw drivers, shop-owners and random men on the street have become part of the routine. Most of all, I've long since forgotten that everyone around me is Indian and I'm not. I guess I'm ready for a change; I think I'm ready to come home. But somehow I'm already nostalgic for India, thinking of everything I'll miss once I leave here. Just means I'll have to come back in the future, I guess! (Himalaya trekking, anyone?)

Thanks for reading.

love
alyss.

Two birthdays in Dharamsala (hooray time zone differences!)

As if Dharamsala isn't already the coolest, chillest place to wind down a trip in India, I got to spend my birthday there - twice. I figured with the time difference and all, I'd better celebrate two days in a row to cover my bases. That, and the Slav crew (my new buddies from Croatia, Serbia and Slovenia) forgot on the actual day but took me out for lunch the day after. They are some of the greatest people ever (plus Swede Martin and Aussie George) but I can't write too many glowing details about them since I'm giving them my blog address and that would be embarrassing. :P Suffice it to say I love Dharamsala not only because of the mountains, relaxed atmosphere, Tibetan people & culture, random packs of semi-wild dogs, and constant cold rain (a nice change from Orissa), but the western tourists are also some of the nicest, least pretentious, smartest, and most fun I've met so far. Made for a good stay.

I arrived in Dharamsala at 3 am one night and hung out at the outdoor bus station in my wool socks and hat for five hours until I could catch a shuttle up the mountain to the real town. Then found out that the Dalai Lama is about to start a teaching session so the whole place was packed with monks, Tibetans, and tourists, leaving pretty much zero hotel availability. A nice welcome. Luckily I got the last room in a sweet place with cheap internet, good breakfasts, and HEATING (in the restaurant, definitely not the rooms). It was my comfort base and home for the last five days, along with an Italian restaurant where I literally ate 2-3 of my meals each day and sheepishly loved all the non-Indian food!

What I did in the mountains:

- Walked around in the rain a lot. If it wasn't raining, it was cloudy. i.e. We were IN the cloud. I was happy my rainjacket finally saw some action after sitting neglected at the bottom of my pack for five weeks.
- Did some wandering in the foothills with the boys, just trying to get up high for a view and some relaxation. Realized how out-of-shape and weak I was after days of doing nothing while trying to kick the Delhi belly. (100% better now, hooray)
- Hung out with Helena and Irena (Croatian woman working on a cruise ship and opening a kindergarten; Slovenian woman who's a retired cop) - visited temples and monasteries, cafes, and shops (window shopping only for me... I've taken a vow of non-consumerism, mainly to contrast my SE Asian market binges and to protect the bank account).
- Ate lots of chocolate.
- Saw the sun once, briefly, on my birthday! Made my day.

Looking forward to yet more celebrating in Toronto and Kingston. :) Four birthdays in one year, not bad.

Backtracking a bit... highlights from Varanasi and Haridwar

Although I'm almost home (!) and should probably be using all my remaining time to soak up India, the internet connection here is just too good to pass up. I'll go for a long hike after just one quick blog... :)

My last day in Varanasi was excellent. Not overwhelming any more - either I just needed a couple days to adjust to the craziness, or maybe I had an unfair share of hassles on my first day, who knows. I spent the day with Chantal, my French friend, and her boyfriend's friend Sanjay who turned out to be a pretty well-known and popular guy and also showed us around the city. The day included:

- chai (just translates as tea) by the Ganges at Chantal's favourite 'Baba Chai'.
- visits of several temples, a fort, a museum, and Sarnath (where Buddha gave his first teaching).
- lots of dust and grime on the autorickshaw ride.
- buying a book of some of the Dalai Lama's teachings (lectures given in N. America, circa 1980) - I love this book; definitely the highlight of the day. When I bought it, a Western man in the red Tibetan monk's robes came up to me and said it was an excellent choice, that I had good karma. I thought this was funny but appropriate.
- relaxing by the Ganges with my new book.
- visiting a silk shop owned by Sanjay's friend. Had a good time chilling with the guys there while Chantal bought some fabric. I offered to help tidy up and fold the bolts of silk she rejected; they then offered me a job as Fabric-Roller Supreme. Too bad I really want to be a doctor.

After Varanasi and Agra I took a night bus to the holy and quieter city of Haridwar. Remind me never to take back-to-back night transit again, especially not buses (even 'sleeper buses'... I had a love-hate relationship with the railing next to my bunk, as I alternated between clutching it with white knuckles and being thrown against it on the particularly bumpy parts. I was only slightly bruised the next day.)

I spent my few days in Haridwar living at an ashram, Shantikunj, a religious and spiritual community of several hundred Indians (and three of us foreigners). It was a special atmosphere - very peaceful, inclusive, and condusive to reflection and meditiation. Highlights:

- meeting Tineke, a very wonderful young woman from Belgium who's been wandering on a spiritual journey for a while now doing yoga and meditation and retreats, and who is very down-to-earth. We had some good conversations and I felt comfortable with her, even though we're on different paths.
- the Shantikunj campus - gardens, music, and a meditation hall with a large model of the Himalayas inside.
- having some time and nice bathroom facilities to start getting over some stomach problems!

I didn't interact much with the Indian students, teachers and visitors at the ashram but preferred to spend my time with Tineke, or on my own, reading etc. I think this is partially because I still find it easier to relate to Westerners and speak in a common language - not just literally, but we're also spiritually more on the same page. For example, one of the very intelligent Indian students I met talked about the importance of mediating on the Gayantri mantra over the rising sun, saying the mantra silently 540 times to connect with Sabita, the sun deity, which is also the life force or spark and is awakened by the Gayantri mantra. I personally think it is important to meditate in a peaceful place and at a peaceful time, to try to reach and touch your inner consciousness and through this self-awareness, work at improving yourself. These are probably essentially the same thing, just put in different terms by people with different backgrounds. So while I still don't feel entirely comfortable around many of the religious aspects and lingo and rituals of Hinduism, I felt welcomed and happy there. Who knew my trip through India would take me to a full-out, genuine ashram? Certainly not me.

Women in India

I promised a quick note on the lives of women in India: (for a really good book on the subject, check out Elisabeth Bumiller's "May you be the mother of a hundred sons" - thanks Leora and David!!)

One of the biggest differences for me is seeing the culture of women and family. Family is very strong in India, with all generations usually living together under one roof. There is a strong sense of love and respect for each other, especially for one's seniors. In this system, women are the caregivers/protectors/workers inside the family, and usually give up their previous lives to devote themselves to this task. It's the custom for brides to leave their parents and go live with their husband and his family, and care for these inlaws. At the same time, they usually bring a substantial dowry (illegal now, but pervasive in most castes and classes). Many to most women don't have a career outside the house. But at the same time, they don't always get respect for the work they do. When I asked men at the hospital what their wives did, many said "Oh, she's JUST a housewife."

My main impression about women here is that a girl's major goal in life is to find a good husband. It's not to say this isn't at all true in Canada. If I had to choose between either a career or kids, I'd probably choose family (although I'm not broadcasting this to med school interviewers!). But in Canada it's not unusual, and I'd say it's even the norm, for a woman to work out a career and then find a husband/partner (or at least co-plan the two). In India, the single greatest blessing you can give a girl is, "May you find a good husband." Nothing about a job or education or happiness in what they do.

Now, a bit about how you find this perfect husband. Most marriages are still arranged. This means your parents discreetly advertise around to find you a suitable match, and then you meet the guy and say yes or no. Sometimes you only meet a couple times, in a public setting! According to the book I read, and from what I've seen, marital 'love' in India means just that - love due to marriage. If your husband takes good care of you and does his duty, it is your duty in return to love him, which you generally end up doing (and feeling). Granted, many more marriages now are "love marriages". Many of the young nurses at the hospital have boyfriends, which is looked down upon unless you end up marrying them. So when I asked one girl what was going to happen in her situation, she casually replied, "Oh, I'll have an arranged marriage. With my boyfriend." But many still opt for the unknown groom and develop love later. Many Indians think of Westerners as morally inferior with our high divorce rate, which they take as a sign of fickle love, or lust run its course. But I've seen the other side of Indian marital love too, in the women abused or neglected by their husbands or inlaws, who now live at the NGO's shelter. I can only imagine how many others there are, who are unhappy but never leave.

Basically, I don't think either system is perfect. I just feel really, really lucky to live in a culture where I get to choose completely freely who I love, and even more lucky to have found that person. (awww.) (This is my ONLY detour into sappy-ness, I promise.)

Agra Part 2

A P.S. about how the rest of my day went in Agra (was going to be a quick post, but we'll see):

I caught an autorickshaw after lunch to take me to the bus stand. I only bargained the guy down 10 rupees (25 cents) but realized I'd probably done really well when he actually dropped me off at the right spot. I remember reading in Lonely Planet about cheap rides ending up at commissioned shops, not even necessarily in the direction you want to go. I only had to listen to constant pressuring and cajoling from my rickshaw dude that if we stopped at a shop to "look only, no money!", then he'd get 20 rupees as commission to make up for the extra fare (and he'd been off work sick for 10 days, he needed the money for medicines, only 5 minutes, no problem, and on an on and on). I guess I was firm enough in my refusals, or maybe I was just lucky, but I felt thrilled when we actually got to the bus stand and he didn't even try to extort any extra money. Bronwyn commented that my life here sounds stressed, and I guess it is sometimes (nothing like school!), but it's not without the rewards and highs of having things work out. I love all the little battles.

The bus ride was also fun; I caught it just as it was pulling away so I got the special "last one on gets to stand" spot. Sorry, this is misleading; usually the last 10 or 20 or even 30 people get to stand, and least from what I saw and experienced in Orissa. But this bus was quiet - and smooth! I was perfectly happy standing, especially since I got to smile at all the seated passengers and politely refuse their offers to squish in and share. I think they were all shocked, which I found funny. I was smiling for practically the whole hour-long trip.

I did sit down for the last bit when a young guy insisted that I take the seat next to his wife. I chatted a little with the wife and learned that they'd just been married in January, but had known each other for 6 years. She shyly but proudly told me, "It was a love marriage." I felt myself being really happy for her and congratulated her on her good fortune. A little while later I thought to myself, how interesting, I'm proud of this girl because she actually knew her husband well and even loved him, before marriage?? The arranged marriage system and the lives of women in general here are very interesting. More on that later.

At Fatehpur Sikri the 'guides' were even worse than at the Taj. This is because they can follow you into the main square and mosque (it's free), with lines like, "You need guide here, I very cheap. Only 50 rupees. No? I tell you about eveything, and if then you don't like, I don't take money OK? No?? I do not understand you Western people, you come to these places but you do not want to learn about them! This is holy place! Why do you not want my services?!" All the while I'm thinking that first of all, the purpose of most of the buildings and ruins is unknown so I'd rather not hear the fabrications, and secondly, if this is such a holy place then why are they disturbing everyone by constantly yelling at tourists? I finally looked one guy square in the face and said, in my best polite Indian accent, "Yes, this is holy place and to fully appreciate it I need to be on my own, have quiet, and have PEACE. You understand? Or do you wish for me to become vedy, vedy angry?" (Thank goodness they speak English well in the tourist hotspots; in rural Orissa this kind of speech would have gotten me nowhere.) The trick is you have stay perfectly calm and rational while verbally beating them away. Indians (as a gross generalization) love to debate, argue, and spew long strings of accusations at each other from a few inches away... but all perfectly controlled. The moment you let emotion into it, you're dismissed as irrational and rude. It's taken some getting used to. I think in some strange way, India has been my assertiveness training.

Some other highlights of Fatehpur Sikri (other than my successful interaction above) included some amazing marble lattice work (I tied a string onto one for 'good luck', but later read in Lonely Planet that it's for childless women who wish for a son... oops), getting a few good photos when the sun went down, and in the end, making friends with some of the hawkers and guides. Sans purchases!

Agra - home of the highest concentration of annoying Indian men ever

After getting settled and happy in Varanasi just in time to leave, I spent a full day and night on trains and arrived here in Agra - tired, sick (flu? cold?), hungry, and strongly considering jumping on the next train to Haridwar without even seeing the city. I actually scouted out the train schedule and tried to book one that left the next hour, but was told I'd have to buy a unreserved second class ticket. That sealed the deal; while I wasn't anxious to brave the touts and rickshaw-drivers and hassles of Agra, I DEFINITELY wasn't going to take a shot at the craziness of second class unreserved trains (just seeing the lines at the ticket window - as in, masses of pushing, shoving, shouting men - was enough to dissuade me). So here I am.

I'd told my parents and Tom that I was going to skip the Taj Mahal this trip (partly cost, partly I feel it's not necessary to see more than one Wonder of the World within a year and I'd appreciate it more next time), but I of course changed my mind. It's pretty incredible. I really wish I'd brought some sketching or art supplies with me (the surrounding gardens and lawns are a good spot to chill and paint), but I'm happy with photos. They also capture the beauty of the white marble better than charcoal would! I was also impressed by the whole atmosphere. The grounds are large and open, giving the feeling that you can fully breathe and relax, even with the hundreds of tourists milling about. It rarely feels crowded. And when it does, the crowds are at least partly composed of women in lots of colourful saris, so it's worth it.

The only problem is the men. In my 2 hours spent at the Taj, I got asked for a photo by approximately 20 men. At first I thought they wanted me to take a photo of them and their friends and I was all to happy to oblige, but then it became clear that they wanted a posed shot of me (luckily not doing the half-reclined-on-a-bench shot that seems so popular at the Taj). Unfortunately, they didn't know I was tired, sick, thirsty and therefore very, VERY grumpy. I humoured a couple of them but slowly got more and more irritated by their demands. "Excuse me, madam! One photo!" seems pleasant and courteous until they continue shouting it at you and following you with their face about a foot from yours. Eventually I couldn't stand it, after one guy upped the ante:
-Excuse me, madam, I want one photo.
-Sorry, I'm not in the mood today.
-Just one photo here in front...
-OK, since you're the first person who's actually expressed an interest in including the Taj in the picture.
-If you don't mind, madam, over here.
-Sure.
-If you don't mind madam, please remove your bag.
-OK.
-If you don't mind madam, please move closer.
-Um, this is just fine where I am.
-(moving closer) If you don't mind, madam, my arm on your shoulder.
-Actually, yes, I do mind a little. (moving away)
-Madam, if you don't mind!...
-That is not necessary. I DO mind.
-MADAM, it is a simple thing!
-I'm sorry, I am leaving, have a good day.
-Excuse me, it is not a matter of good day! It will be a good day when my hand is on your shoulder.
-Excuse me, good bye. You will stop harrassing me!
At the word 'harrassing' he seemed to drop it, although I didn't turn around to see if he followed me. Good lord.

That was the end of Alyssa posing for Indian tourists' photos. Now I'm seeking refuge at an internet cafe, and this afternoon I'll head to Fatehpur Sikri (outside Agra) where I hope to find fewer annoying men. Wish me luck.

Varanasi - my first venture into urban India

First of all, kudos to the Indian rail system. I took a 22-hour ride for under $30, and it was air-con, a comfortable sleeper bunk, safe, and sheets were provided (including an extra one when I threw up into my bedsheet in the middle of the night... and I thought I'd defy all odds and get through 6 weeks in India without puking. Oh well).

My first impression of Varanasi, from the train window: everything is greyish brown - the houses, the horizon, the people, the clothes, even the trees and their leaves are brown from dirt and dust. And a related second observation: urban poverty is very, very different from rural poverty (dirtier, louder, and once you get out into it, definitely more in-your-face). From the train, Varanasi also seemed to be crumbling - the bricks from the roofs and walls of buildings taken down one by one to throw as weights onto the canvas or corrugated tin roofs of the thousands of make-shift huts crammed into the city's gutters and corners.

My first day in the city was overwhelming. I sent this email to my parents:
I'm not sure why I was (and still am) so overwhelmed... I think I just wasn't prepared for real urbanness in India. And Varanasi is so touristy, both for westerners and Indians, that there are a kadrillion touts and annoying men and boys following you and asking you questions and/or trying to sell things. I think the real problem is that I've been very concerned with taking the advice of 'not trusting anyone', and this gets really exhausting and isolating. Not only do I want to be able to chat with a local without ending up feeling pressured to take an overpriced boat-ride, buy some postcards, or buy some kid's British 2-pound piece for 130 rupees (they get coins as souvenirs but know exactly what they're worth!), but also in such a holy place as Varanasi I really want to be able to talk with or at least observe some of the Baba's, the ascetic spiritual men, without worrying about all the aggressive, phony ones. I've also found that you can't stop moving for a second, without being hassled. It makes for a tiring few days. I also don't like taking out my camera very often, since people notice and then bug you for money or more photos, and also I don't want to advertise that I have valuables on me (being alone). Overall, solo travelling's been an adventure. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I'm dejected, sometimes I don't know what to do with myself (like right now, hence time for long emails!). On my own, the lows are much lower, like this evening, I almost cried when my guesthouse told me for the second time that their lending library "didn't open for another hour" - meanwhile they were all sitting around doing nothing. Not a big deal, I know, and then fifteen minutes later I was all happy and relaxed, sitting down by the Ganges on the ghats, watching the nightly Hindu ceremony. Ups and downs.

Photos! Just a taste...

The Middle Of Nowhere, Orissa, India. This is the view outside the campus where I first stayed. The desolation is beautiful, in a way, but doesn't make for very good lives or opportunities for the local people.


The "grannies" (and grandfathers) of the Adopt-A-Granny program (sponsorship program linked with the UK - kind of like a foster family program). This group came in from the local village to be interviewed, but we ended up conducting more of a group meeting where they shared their problems with us and each other. They all thought this was the greatest thing ever, since their family and village members often don't listen to them or sometimes even notice they're there. It was helpful but also a little frustrating for me because I realized they never meet like this in their own community, even though they have regular meetings where issues are supposed to be addressed. Apparently half of them don't show up, and the half that do just hand over their 20 rupees to group's savings fund, don't even consider using it for income-generating project loans, and then everyone leaves. There's such a difference between the ideals of a program on paper, and actual implementation in the field...


The new Indian lady. (sorry if it's sideways, I can't rotate on this computer)


Me with some funny, affectionate patients (post-op). They love being interviewed and getting the personal attention; in return I get 10-fold the personal attention from all of them, in the form of lots of arm pats, chin squeezes (equivalent to a pat on the head), and hand massages. Everyone wins.


School screenings. This photo is totally posed; normally I'm at the other end of the room pointing to the eye charts, while one of the Oriya-speaking nurses talks to the kids. The kids were all too happy to oblige for this photo, though. I'm glad I have a digi so I get to show all of them the photos afterward. Same goes for all the patients; they love seeing the pictures. Although sometimes they can't recognize themselves and point to another person in the photo, going "mu? mu?!!" ('me?' - nope, sorry dear, guess that bandage over your right eye isn't helping your binocular vision too much right now...)