“Keep smiling you in Pushkar”

We’re in Pushkar, a small town in the middle of the desert of Rajasthan. Despite the desert-like nature of the place, it manages to have a very holy lake in the middle of it which draws thousands upon thousands of visitors a year. There are many ghats, stairs down into the holy water, where priests will do puja (worship) with you (for a donation, usually). Yesterday we walked through the main bazaar to the Brahma temple, where our teachers took us inside and we did something. (I don’t know what to call it. Puja?) We took off our shoes outside, left our bags with a teacher, the women covered their heads, and then we walked up the many many white marble steps. Apparently you’re not supposed to step on the last step before entering the temple–it’s inauspicious and everything here is about auspiciousness–but unfortunately I didn’t learn this until afterwords. Inside there is a small gazebo-type platform thingie, at the back of which is an icon of Lord Brahma (forgive me if I’m chosing the wrong words here). We offered orange flowers into one square-shaped bowl, and the man standing there gave us purple flowers that we took to the man standing in front of the image of Brahma. We gave him the purple flowers (presumably as an offering to Lord Brahma) and stood there for a minute. We then left the gazebo thingie and walked around it clockwise. I don’t know why we go clockwise. I asked a teacher and she said it’s just part of puja. Unfortunately you can’t take pictures of the temple, so I have no photos to paste, but it’s quite beautiful and it was really interesting to watch the different kinds of people in there. Pushkar is a big tourist town (so big with Israelis, in fact, that many signs are written in Hindi and in Hebrew) so there were a fair number of videshiis (foreigners) in the temple.

Our hotel is a government-run hotel which is okay. The outside is quite charming and beautiful, and the inside is sufficient. (My standards for Indian hotel rooms are still high when compared to my peers, I think.)

This morning I got up quite early and took a hike with some friends to the top of a small mountain where there is a temple to Savitri, one of the wives of Brahma. From down below it looks like quite a walk (which it was):

When we starting climbing up the hill I felt like I was heading off into an Indiana Jones movie:

And the best part: there were monkeys!! Langurs, the long-tailed monkeys. There was a family of them hanging out up there.

Of course we can’t take pictures of the temple itself, but we did get a nice photo of the view of Pushkar. You can see the holy lake in the background.

And, because I’m short on time, here are some random other pictures of Pushkar. Although the town is a bit touristy, it’s main bazaar is small and relatively free of traffic (particularly rickshaws) so it’s a rather pleasant walk through old twisty streets. One of my friends said that Pushkar looks the way a foreigner would expect India to look, and that’s probably true.

dhire dhire (slowly, slowly)

Today we went to see a Hindi film and do you know what? I understood about 80% of the dialogue!! This is unbelievable to me. During class movies I understand MAYBE 30% or 40%. So it was a great feeling to catch the jokes (most of them anyway) and to really follow in detail what was going on.

After the movie we went shopping. I bought some pretty fabric and am having some pretty shirts made and a beautiful skirt. My Hindi must be better than I thought (warning: boasting ahead), because one of the shopkeepers said I spoke the best Hindi among the group of us. There’s been so little to feel really good about that I’m going to hold on to that compliment for a little while. Just to nurse my ego a bit. it’s taken a bit of a beating in the last few weeks.

So, I think maybe I like India. Maybe just a little. Talking to people (and understanding what they say) is getting much easier, as is navigating the streets. I feel less overwhelmed by the streets lately (probably a function of both my Hindi getting better  and growing a thicker skin) and much more comfortable in the shops. I even managed to buy things like batteries from the electronics-wallah and phone cards from the cellphone wallah. It’s been a hard adjustment to India, and the gender differences are still preposterous, but somehow it seems to be getting easier. Well, that and I memorized some choice Hindi phrases for asking people what their problem is and if I should call the police. And I’ve been taking friends with me wherever I go, which reduced the harassment.

So, tomorrow we leave for a week-long adventure to Ajmer, Pushkar, Amritsar and Dharamshala. I’ll try to update while we’re gone, but i can’t say for sure. I still miss everyone and hope you are all doing well.

Cows: the untold story

Someone told me that the cows here are all owned by people. And that at night, everyone finds their own cows and herds them off. To where exactly, I do not know, as this is a city with not a lot of pastureland. I assumed that was why the cows were eating garbage in the first place, because there was nowhere to put the cows. Where do the cows go at night? Into people’s apartments? It is a mystery to me. So if the cows are not wandering cows, if they truly belong to people, then are these cows used for producing milk? (Why else would one own a cow that one considered holy and un-eat-able?) So these cows that people own, they eat the trash off the street, and so I have to wonder: Are they producing the milk that goes into my morning lassi (yogurt drink)? Or the paneer in my lunch? Is that street trash being recycled into my evening meal? I try not to think about this, but I am definitely curious.

Although it’s becoming more normal to walk by cows on the street (and pigs and goats and dogs and camels and horses), I don’t know if I will ever stop being startled by the sight of such LARGE agricultural animals nosing through the large piles of trash. There are some really fat pigs and cows here. I think it’s a permanently startling sight.

Also, we had a monkey on the roof last night! (And yes, I can say that in Hindi. I can’t say “leave me alone,” but I can tell a story about monkeys!) I didn’t see it on our own roof, but I saw it hopping around the neighbor’s roofs. Except for their funny-looking red bottoms, they are so human-like it’s startling. Every time I see a monkey I’m startled by this, especially by their eyes.

As for the other wildlife in the street, the Jaipuri men have been leaving me along a little bit more. I’ve cultivated my scowl, and I’ve been draping myself in excessive layers of clothing (so much that I’m starting to think a burqa would simply have to be more comfortable). I’ve also been trying to go with people when I walk somewhere, but I’ve had less success with that. The harassment is a big downer. There’s nothing like constantly getting the message that you’re a second-class citizen who’s not entitled to decide what happens to her own body to make a girl feel blue. It’s really made me dislike this city, which is a shame, because I hear lots of other people rave about how wonderful it is. Why, just today, we had a (male) professor from the US talk about how easy it is to talk to shopkeepers in Jaipur. Yep, easy. Until they start following you down the street, and send their brother to look for you after you’ve finally ditched them, and generally keep harassing you (happened to me and Clare). I’m betting that this has never happened to that particular professor. I’m still pretty cynical about this, clearly.

Today is Friday. On Sunday we leave for a short “Hindi camp” trip to Ajmer and Pushkar. After Hindi camp we have a five-day break. Some friends and I will be leaving on a massively-unplanned trip straight from Hindi camp to go north to Amritsar and Dharamshala, so I won’t be back in school until July 21. I’ll try to update from the road, but as the trip itself is unplanned, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find the internet. But: HIMALAYAS! How awesome is that?

Overall, I’m feeling better but still pretty down. This trip has been really really hard, and some snarky comments from classmates (“If you feel like you can’t wait to get back to America something is WRONG”) have left me feeling sort of…lame. I know it really is hard, and I shouldn’t feel bad, but I do. The exciting news is that when I get back from my trip to the Himalayas, two good things will happen: this whole adventure will be halfway DONE, and the following week I’ll get to meet Kathleen O’Reilly, a prof. who studies water and society and gender in Rajasthan. How perfect is that?

Ten good things

So, I know I’ve complained a lot, and obviously, I’m not sure I like it here. But in the spirit of fairness, I’ve decided to post about ten good things that have happened on my trip. (Note how many of them involve my tastebuds…)

1. Chai: We have tea at least three times a day, sometimes more. And it’s delicious, and milky, and sweet. Our host family has tea ready for us when we come downstairs, there is lemon tea when we get to school, we get tea halfway through our class day, and there’s tea again at 3:00 at school.

2. Ice cream: the ice cream place close to the school has excellent chocolate fudge ice cream, a fact I just discovered yesterday. Also, waffle cones. Waffle cones! Filled with chocolate ice cream!

3. Meals: Our school and our host family both serve excellent food which is tasty, healthy, abundant, and completely vegetarian. In fact, it’s much easier to be a vegetarian here than in the US. Most restaurants proclaim on their sign whether they offer “veg,” “non-veg” or both kinds of food.

4. Sweets: Indians make some very good sweets, though they are frequently nut-based and different than the ones in the US. They are tasty, and we also often have really deliciously ripe mangoes (and other fruit) for dessert.

5. Friends: There are some great people on the program, and I’m happy to have the chance to meet all of them, especially the people I live with and the ones I’ve traveled with.

6. Hindi: Despite my love/hate relationship with the language, it IS cool to be surrounded by it and to have so much opportunity to practice.

7. Traveling: I am having fun traveling, taking photos, and seeing exotic places I may never get the chance to see again. It’s been a long time since I left the country (the last time I left was before 9/11) and so it’s been great to have the chance to be a tourist again.

8. Pretty things: India has an abundance of pretty things to buy, including jewelry, brightly colored clothes and quilts and fabrics, sparkly shoes, bells, jewels, bangles, and all sorts of other things.

9. Air conditioning: I have never, ever been so appreciative of air conditioning in my whole life. Air conditioning is awesome!!

10. Purpose: Last night I was listening to Chris Pureka and in one of my favorite songs (perhaps of all time) she says: “You wanted something you saw in the sunset, so don’t you leave here ’til you know what it is.” There’s a reason I came here, even if I can’t articulate it (though somehow I convinced the grant-keepers that I had good reason). I should probably spend some time thinking about that. What drew me here in the first place? And what I hope to get out of the rest of my trip?

Jodhpur photos part II

Recap of the Jodhpur trip, continued:

Jodhpur was originally nicknamed the “Sun City,” because it’s high in the middle of the desert. Somewhere along the line it acquired the nickname “Blue City,” because apparently the old Brahmin families painted their houses indigo. (Why? Because it was expensive.) Now, apparently, blue dye is much cheaper than it used to be and anyone can paint their house. So a lot of people do! And it makes the city look pretty when viewed from the fort:

After the fort, we walked about a kilometer (a VERY hot kilometer) to Jaswant Thanda, a large and beautiful memorial to Jaswant Singh (1878-95). According to the guidebooks, he rid Jodhpur of bandits, built irrigation systems, and “boosted the economy.” Interpret that how you will. The building is pretty, though you had to take your shoes off (at the bottom of the steps you see in the photo) and walking around was a little bit hot on the feet. I didn’t stay up there long. Instead I sat under a tree (read: shade) and rested. I am old and boring like that. And it felt so good.

After the tomb, we took a very complicated rickshaw ride (which actually required no less than FIVE rickshaws) to get to lunch. I don’t remember this part very well, because I was delirious from heat and hunger, but I do know that the first rickshaw we rode in was called the “Love Guru.” And I also remember that we didn’t have lunch until after 4pm, which is nearly a cardinal sin in my book.

And finally, just to prove that there really ARE camels in the street, I managed to capture this photo from a rickshaw as we were heading to the bus stop to leave town. Please ignore the glaring bit of US commercialism just above the camel’s head.

Photo post failed; kiddie computer is too slow

I tried to post the remaining three photos of Jodhpur, but the kiddie computer I’m borrowing is finding the photos a little difficult to handle. So, next time.

I’d really like to have something good to say.But today i am overwhelmed again. The street harasment is really wearing me down. I get harassed EVERY day, walking to school and walking home. There is a group of men who hang out on the roof of a neighboring building and try to peep in my window. Whenever I open my curtains they all point and move closer to my window and stare at me. I am harassed even in my own room. Men follow me around in stores, they call at me on the street, they fall silent and stare when I walk by. In Jodhpur I was stared at a LOT and I was groped by someone walking by our rickshaw. EW. I am SO SICK of all  of these men who think they can just get into my personal space. I AM NOT PUBLIC PROPERTY. Fuck off, assholes. Unfortunately I can’t say that in Hindi, and anyway, doing so might escalate the situation.

I am also really sick of all the priviledge the men in the language program don’t realize they have. Today we were assigned a “scavenger hunt” which involves going out and talking to members of the public. Of course this is easy for men to do, so the men in my group immediately suggested that we split up the work. They don’t seem to realize that a single American woman can NOT just start random conversations on the street. Hell, if I am seen as available for harassment just by being in public, what will happen if I try talking to strange men? The male students have such priviledge here that they don’t even have to consider their personal safety.

Today i am just so mad. I get harassed constantly and it’s exhausting. And there is literally no escape. I finally broke down and talked to a teacher about it today. She’s going to help me with the peeping toms, but the regular street harassment she can’t do much about. Even my friends have noticed that I’m getting it worse than most people. I dress pretty modestly, so the only thing we can suppose is because I’m tall (taller than most women here) and blond. Ugh.

I’m still looking for a good story to tell about things lately. But really, I still just want to go home.

A picture post: Jodhpur

We went to Jodhpur this weekend. It’s a desert city west of here, which means it’s a little bit closer to Pakistan, and has a bit more of a Muslim population. The night we arrived, we sat on the roof of our hotel at their rooftop restaurant. We had a spectacular view of the fort and the city, and as we were eating the Muslim call to prayer started. One by one these haunting, chanting voices arose from the city until there was a cacophony of heavy, rhythmic voices pulsing through the air. It was ethereal: the hot, dusty, dry desert air, the large and looming fort, and the chanting voices. Something I don’t have words for made sense at that moment.

The next day we went to visit the large and looming Mehengarh fort. It was beautiful, and the weather was hot and windy (as you can see from my dupatta billowing in the wind):

We entered the fort through the large front gate (the woman in the picture is Chloe, a fellow student, and the man to her left is the tour guide we hired):

Immediately inside the entrance is a wall where you can see dents from cannonballs that hit the fort (and a little of the local fashion, as well):

The fort is carved out of two types of sandstone, and has some incredible detail. The fact that the sandstone has survived in such detail for over 500 years is a testament to the desert climate of the city. In the third picture, you can see me, Chloe, and Clare (my travel-mates for the trip) standing in an archway inside a courtyard within the temple. Inside the fort there is sort of a palace, with exquisitely decorated rooms for the maharaja, his queens, his harem, his ministers, and so on.

Also, this is Rajasthan, which sits on the edge of the Thar desert. The Thar is on the border of India and Pakistan. It is pretty common for men here to wear turbans, and I don’t think I’ve yet posted a picture. This one doesn’t do them justice, as the turbans are often brightly colored or rainbow colored, but here is an idea:

I’m having net difficulty, so I’m going to see if I can post this and put the rest in a separate  post.

Back-post #1: A funny monkey story

Hi. I’m back from Jodhpur. I have a lot to say but it will take a while, so I’m going to make a series of posts.

First, a funny monkey story.

Thursday, like so many days here, was a Bad Day. I was in a funk (still am, though it was interrupted by a nice trip to Jodhpur). Megin and I went to the Ramada to have something ridiculously expensive, like an ice cream sundae. The ice cream was okay, but didn’t erase my funkified mood.

As we were walking back from the Ramada, we went along one of the bigger streets to see if the stores were open yet (there was a statewide bund, or closing, that day, declared by one of the political parties for reasons I don’t fully understand). Our Aunti-ji had told us that the stores would be opening later in the afternoon. As we approached one of the cross-streets, we noticed a group of men shouting and throwing stones at the roof of a building. WTF?

As we got closer we could see why: there were several monkeys on the roof, with (surprise!) MANGOES in their hands. And oh, the monkeys looked happy! And they were doing little comic dances! And the people down below did NOT. They looked VERY ANGRY. They would throw rocks and the monkeys would duck as the rocks went sailing by. Then they’d pop their heads back up again, triumphantly holding the mangoes. The whole thing looked like a scene out of a cartoon, it was so perfect, and despite all my ill-humor I burst out laughing on the spot. So there I am, grumpy American girl on the street corner laughing uncontrollably at the mango-stealing monkeys, and suddenly life felt a little bit lighter.

Everyone turned to look at us, of course, but for the first time I didn’t care.

Grump-a-lup-a-gus (say that ten times fast)

I want to write something clever but today is just rough. I’m sick to my stomach, I have a sore throat, people are pissing me off, everything is closed on strike so I can’t go get ice cream or toilet paper, my last Hindi class was horrible, I just want to curl up and hide. On the plus side, my semi-permanent scowl is working a little bit.

Anyone with a private jet who can come get me? I’m exhasuted and want to go home.

I’m leaving tomorrow for a short trip to Jodhpur so this might be my last email access for a few days. I’ll try to update from Jodhpur but who knows. Sorry for the gumpiness, I’m a breakdown-wallah today (or rather, breakdown-wallee, because I’m a girl).

Also, if I don’t reply to your email very quickly, please forgive me. The institute has only three or four functioning computers for 60 students, one of which is so old it has no USB port and still runs Windows 98, so access is sometimes difficult.

Meh. I think I’m going home to pout and take a nap.

Women’s bodies and public space

Some things are getting better here: my housing is great, the food is great, I have AC, and friends, and classes are manageable. This is all good news! However, I’m still very worn down by the constant harassment on the street. I mean constant. I can’t go a block without getting multiple lascivious looks, an “Allo madam!” or “Hey lady!” or “Allo Allo Alloooo!” Today two men on a scooter made kissy faces at me for half a block. I was ready to deck them.

Apparently, I need to cultivate my scowl. Yesterday I was in a foul mood from the short story we had to read this week (about rape) and I went to buy some consolatory cookies at the store, which is only 2.5 blocks away. And in that short walk, I became so angry (from the day, from the story, from the catcalls) that I had this magnificent scowl on my face. I mean, I smile a LOT, I rarely scowl, but this? This scowl was a piece-de-resistance. I mean, it was maybe the most intimidating scowl of my life. It was that good. If I had known what good fortune it would bring, I would have been proud. So when the male employee at the grocery store stared at me for a few minutes and then offered to help me (these men frequently try to carry my basket around for me) I snarled a rather irritated “NO!” at him, and he left me alone for the rest of my shopping trip. Now THIS is a revelation. Can I stop the catcalling by being a scowling, grumpy, mean, squinty-eyed angry person?

So this morning during my run at the park, when I usually get stared a lot at but not catcalled, I tried very hard to look like I was really pissed off and ready to bite someone’s head off if they talked to me. It’s uncomfortable to do, but I had some residual grumpiness from yesterday, and it worked. Most of the men walking laps around the park stopped staring at me after one or two laps.

On my walk to school today, I tried to scowl the whole way there, but I was talking on the phone with Matthew and it’s nearly impossible to scowl when I’m talking with him. So I got harassed by a little boy (“Allo! Allo? Allo!” and he ran after me), stared at by a number of rickshaw drivers, and kissy-faced by the aforementioned men on scooters. Still, I scowled more than usual, and I’m going to keep working on it. Matt and I were lamenting the fact that there is no international standard for “F**k you!” Why not?? Who’s responsible for these sort of things? They need to get on it.

Somewhere in here is a more serious post about women’s bodies as public property, and the privilege that men don’t realize they have in making comments and insults. Public visibility (at least by Western-looking women) is apparently seen as being available for men’s attention. I sometimes find myself quite envious of the women who ride and walk around town in burqas. Although I’m sure they face other types of harassment and discrimination, I’m willing to bet they don’t get catcalled, hooted and hollered at by men looking for one thing only. What a relief it would be to be able to walk to the store unnoticed. My fair complexion and light hair makes invisibility nearly impossible. My classmates here who are Indian-American rarely get catcalled or harassed. And the male students here seem shocked when we talk about it. Why are they surprised? (I know the answer, but that’s a post for another day.)