A Day in the Life

So I realize I havent done a very good job of describing what I actually do every day... so here's 24 hours in the life -- enjoy!

Thursday, June 26th, 2008

5:45 am: wake up, grab toast and tea and throw up a kourta and long leggings – four of us are off to a nearby Muslim slum to do water quality testing. We have to do it this early in the morning because water only comes for about 2 hours a day, typically early in the morning.

6:30 am: we just got dropped off by a taxi at the train station near our flat – normally it’s lined with people selling produce and juices and umbrellas and clothes, but this early, it’s pretty quiet except for a wholesale parsely market. The train is pretty empty, but I still end up standing by the door because you get a refreshing breeze and it’s cool to look out as we hurtle by. This morning, because it’s so early, we spot a row of men and boys on the tracks, squatting over them to poop. It’s pretty crazy.

7:00 am: we arrive in the community and try to find the specific households that the other girls had tagged earlier – they’re part of a pilot for our epi survey to measure the effectiveness of our education interventions. None of us speak hindi though and it’s kind of difficult to find some of the people we’re looking for. Even when we find the right households, it takes all four of awhile to figure out how to hold everything to test the water and package our test samples without contaminating them. It starts sprinkling while we’re working. Walking through the slum, several things stand out: it’s really dark, even though the sky’s getting brighter, because the slums are built up to about 3 stories and the passageways are narrow.

…

We have to leave to catch our train to goa – will be continued soon!

My On-Going List of Favorites:

Best Street Food: Pani Puri (although I can only get it at one place because it’s made with water only one stand is rumored to make it with Bisleri water (which is safe to drink)). Pani puri is…. Well… they’re these flaky balls dipped in sweet and spicy water, which then taste hot and cold at the same time. You’re meant to eat them all at once, which makes it feel like you’ve just taken a shot of something delicious and crunchy.



Best Naturals Flavor: Kesar Pista, Coffee Walnut, and Mango. (Naturals is the local icecream chain). Kesar Pista is saffron pistachio.

Letter to Everyone

Men hold hands here! I think in most places being gay isn’t openly accepted, and I don’t think that most of the men I’ve seen holding hands are gay. But it’s so interesting to see all kinds of men holding hands – macho-looking types, teenagers, men on the beach… they dance with each other too, so much more comfortably than men in America.

Everything can be delivered to your home – toilet paper, tubs of icecream, mcdonalds cold coffees… (they have McDelivery motorcycles! ). It was really surprising to me at first, but makes sense because delivering provides someone with a job. I’ve noticed that you can get anything done here because there are so many people, someone will be willing to do it as a job – there are always always taxis and rickshaws, fancy hotels post people in the bathrooms to turn the water on and off for you as you wash your hands (we don’t have that in the states do we??) you can buy anything you might need just by sitting on a train long enough, because people come through selling everything from plastic card cases to fruits and bread. We have maid, which is a weird experience. I read in the Brothers K that as weird as it is to have someone work for you, it’s one of the best things you can do with your privilege – provide employment. At the same time, I’ve noticed that even rich, very well-off people will try to get the best deal. The opportunity cost -- convenience -- doesn’t seem to motivate people as much. Rich people still eat off the street (understandable because it’s so good!) and bargain at markets and ride the same trains (albeit in first class). Maybe I’m stereotyping, but I feel like you could rip off a rich person in American much more easily than you could rip off a rich person here.

Today, my friend and I were trying to find a taxi. We spotted a whole line of them across the street (a rare find in a city where taxis are always speeding off to the next customer) and dashed across to practice our hindi and get to our train station. The first one said no, the next one said no as well, and pointed up ahead. The third one spoke to us a lot but all in Hindi and I couldn’t understand. Our friend, who speaks Hindi perfectly was a few feet behind us and cracking up – we didn’t understand why. After being rejected two or three more times, we got to the beginning of the line of taxis and looked up – to see nothing other than a gas station! our Hindi-speaking friend was now doubled over laughing – we had looked so ridiculous the whole time!

Letter to Myself

So two days ago I had a really great day working on the project – everything went really well, people that we worked with took us around and introduced us as “the students from Berkeley who have new and exciting methods to teach,” and I felt like I knew exactly what I was doing. Most of all, I felt like I was doing something useful, and I felt good about myself.

The very next day, I saw all of the same people, but it felt like everything fell apart. There was some miscommunication, and because I still don’t know all of the past of the project I couldn’t explain why some things were the way they were, and walked away feeling stupid and embarrassed and most of all, discouraged. I felt like the whole project had been called into question (even though it hadn’t really – this was just my emotional reaction). I felt deflated and angry.

My friend and I talked about it for awhile over our comfort food (uttappas – think savory pancakes!) and I realized that maybe I was mixing up my ego with the project it too much. When I felt good about myself through the project, I was able to feel happy and fulfilled, but as soon as stuff went wrong I felt horrible. There’s a difference between being invested in something and defining yourself by it.

Also, I’ve noticed myself feeling really possessive of parts of the project. For example – I initiated a Photovoice program this summer, and now there are 3-5 of us who work on it. I caught myself feeling like it was my program, and feeling defensive of it – not wanting to share it with other people, etc. I feel like I am holding on to it with a clenched fist, and instead I want to open my hand. By creating an identify for myself that is based on what I do, I become less flexible and set myself up for a rollercoaster of an identity ride. I want to know who I am when everything I do is stripped away.

Andrew H

I’m almost at the point where being here seems natural – instead of “being
in India!” I’m “just….in india…” if that makes sense. I’ve noticed that
TBG has been a pretty big influence on my trip so far… Monisha and I hung
out for the first few days which was awesome—we visited some of the
touristy places and went shopping, and we talked to annemieke. Even more,
a lot of my work so far has been reformatting and writing education
materials – very deliverable-reminiscent!  The schools that we work with
have just started up so now our work is getting more interesting, and my
photography project is really taking off!

If you were here you’d go crazy over your sidewalk walking thing, there
really would have to be four of you to keep anyone safe. We end up
crossing big streets one lane at a time but there aren’t really lanes so
cars drive by within two or three inches of your feet, in the rain,
splashing puddles of muddy water everywhere… lol. it’s great. You would
also definitely make your “ohhh..” sad
disappointed-why-does-this-always-happen-to-me face a lot – all of the
hilarious language mix ups, flash flooding, soccer balls at the beach
rolling over used condoms and then hitting couples in the middle of not so
private make out sessions... yesterday we were transporting our old dirty
ugly filters back to our ritzy apartment building, and in the process of
trying to clean them in the rain our security guard friend came out and
politely told us that an American was coming, and would we please get out
of view! Lol. And someone asked me directions today and by some miracle he
asked about the one place I knew! So far my giving good directions record
is 2 for 3.

Anyway, we’re off to celebrate our friend’s birthday – hope all is well
and write backw hen you can!

Andrew H

PS.i found out today.. this whole time when i've thought i've been
tellling shopkeepers things like  "i need stamps"  -- i've actually been
asking them "do you need stamps?? " LOL. what a failure.

Andrew W

The Taj mahal was exquisite, and grand.

When you first see it, it looks perfect and balanced. As I walked closer, I began to realize the scale of it – people seemed like a tiny row of color that encircled its base. The closer you get, the less picturesque it becomes, as you start to see it from an angle never published on postcards. The top disappears behind the base, which expands to fill up your whole vision.

There were a lot of people. Most of them were Indian and seemed just as excited as I was to be there. It was the first time I felt that everyone was equally amazed and happy to be there. Instead of feeling like the American tourist amongst ‘local’ Indians, I felt like part of a huge group of people who had traveled to be here. My friend Justin commented that although he is never really impressed by buildings, he thought it was beautiful that a building like this could bring so many people together and make them all happy.

I’ve wanted to visit the Taj Mahal ever since I made a paper mache replica for a school project. I remember carving out the hollows and angling the walls, and when I first saw it, i felt like I already knew its lines and shapes, having stood above my two foot model for hours with paint and an x-acto knife. But actually, what I remember the most about being there was the people. Everyone looked like they had made an effort to wear their best clothes, and there were so many vibrant colors from all of the beautiful saris and turbans. I saw one woman putting make-up on before having a picture taken, and at any time there were always people taking pictures or posing for them.

There were little kids all over the place, running and chasing and racing and laughing.

There were also couples, posing together and looking at each other as much as they were looking at the Taj Mahal itself.

We took our shoes off and because it was raining on and off the marble was wet and cool and smooth.

It is interesting that it has become such a symbol of beauty and love, even though it is a lovers’ tomb.

We walked through it, and in the middle in the dark heart of the Taj Mahal, there are both of their tombs and one lamp that hangs from the ceiling and is surrounded by intricate metalwork. As we left the room, pushed up against people, we tried to guard each other against the pickpockets that had bee following us around and were know shoved up against us. In a surreal mood twist, in the next room a group of ten kids ran by, hollering and shouting to hear the sounds their echoes made.

We stepped out on the other side, walking into a view of a silvery river, green farming rows and a yellow blue fluffy cloud sky. People were brushing their fingers along the flowers etched into the walls (something that I thought only I did), and sitting in the carved out hollows, talking.

My memory of the Taj Mahal will be… red and orange and blue and white and birds and green gardens and children running and laughing and people smiling and glowing.

Letter to Laura A

hey my beautiful cousin!

How are you? I really wish I was there to hang out with and talk and work in your garden and just be there for whatever… I know writing isn’t the same but as long as you can hear the love between the lettersJ

I’m so happy in India! Bombay is such a crazy city, and all the people I’ve met and even talked to on the streets have been so friendly and patient.

I was just thinking about what it must’ve been like to be in India as an art student – all of the sensory experiences and colors and sounds. I’m learning to embrace bright colors more and more – at first when we’d go out to buy kourdas, we’d all gravitate towards whites and blacks but I’m starting to feel more brave about being as colorful as this city is itself. I haven’t started my travel journal yet, but I’m looking forward to sketching a little – like we used to with Carrie in the backyard in Navarra…. I really miss you.

I bought tiger balm! It smells so good and is helping with the loads of mosquite bites I’ve collected. thanks for the good recommendation!

I’ve been working on starting a Photovoice project with children from the slum communities we work with. It was so funny – I had to give a presentation to a group of doctors to convince them it was a worthwhile project, and at the end we gave them a camera and asked them to take pictures. Everyone was laughing and taking silly self portraits (40 year old Indian matriarchs in saris!) you would’ve loved all the laughter and expression.

You would’ve also had so much fun at this club we went to the other night -- it’s supposedly the best club in Bombay. The music was a mix of techno, latin and bollywood songs, but there was a little drum and bass feel every now and then. J

Letter to Miriam

I really wish that our plans had worked out… it would’ve been so much fun to be here with you! There are a lot of things that remind me of you and things you’ve told me about India. Like the mangoes! Mmm so good. And also I’ve bought a lot of kourtas (sp??) , some of which remind me of your shirts from here – like the one with the mirrors that I always try to look into, lol.

The project itself is exciting but it’s so hard not speaking any of the languages - I’m limited to things like “kis taraf?” “panni saaf” and numbers 1-10. I’m working on it, but being here is inspiring me to try to learn as many languages as I can.. I came up with this plan to work one a language for at least an hour everyday … but we’ll see how long I last.

There’re a lot of development themes that have come up so far that I’d love to talk to you about – what’s my role here, what am I getting out of this, what am I brining, is it hypocritical that we’re living in a fully furnished AC-ed corporate apartment… just a few of the questions we’re all asking ourselves. I don’t feel up to plunging into all of it now, but sometime soon…

In the meantime, I’ve been learning a lot – about class and regional differences, politics, how things get done in Bombay, how to wear a sari, what different food dishes are and how to eat with my fingers, how to jump on and off trains and squeeze four or five people in a rickshaw, why people paint gods on walls (so that people don’t piss on them!) and where all of the couples go to make out (along the beach, under the woman’s shawl) – all of the differences that seem so strange at first and then quickly become so normal. I was walking around buying groceries the other day, and realized that I didn’t feel like a tourist anymore. I felt like I was beginning to live here.

Scott S

hey Scottie!

How’s London town???

India is, in three words: beautiful (wet) chaos.

It’s monsoon season now, which means it rains everyday and you have to time you activities around the rains because if not, roads and marketplaces get flooded and you end up walking through lakes of suspiciously brown water and getting drenched. I love the rain and have been having a lot of fun in it—but it definitely is an adjustment. You’d love the apartment we’re staying in – it’s beautifully furnished (we have a mahogany-esque king size bed with a deep blue green comforter and a full sliding glass door and patio.

There are what seems like a troop of security guards around our building, and they take extra care of us because we’re a group of six foreign girls and are friends with the guy who built the whole place. They must think we’re crazy though, because they see us coming and leaving all the time – either dashing out to play in the rain and start pick up soccer games, or strutting out in our monsoon shoes (high heels to avoid the puddles) and clubbing clothes, or lugging dirty plastic barrels (our prototype water filters) into the building lobby and washing them in the rain. There was a water leak in my bedroom, and I went down to talk to them about it. But since my hindi is extremely limited, the only thing I could think of to say was “Panni hein” which means “There is water”. Given that it was pouring at the time, my comment wasn’t exactly breaking news. Lol.

Letter to Christina

Here’re some of the amusing things that’ve happened:

My friend got all dressed up and went out to meet some of her cousins – freshly showered and with diamond earrings. She set off to catch the train, and within ten minutes of her leaving, we heard the rains start. Not just any little shower – but the start of monsoon season! In a few minutes we heard our doorbell ring – and opened it to find our friend dripping wet and laughing. “The doorman offered up this wise-sounding aphorism: “She went out, she got wet, she came back”.

Another night, we found a HUGE cockroach in our shower. Being the brave one that I am (lol – NOT) I decided I’d try to throw it outside rather than killing it, and so grabbed a dustpan and broom… only to jump around madly in the shower trying to get the thing to actually go into my dustpan (did you know cockroaches can hop?!) finally, I got it but then totally forgot to keep it pressed down with the broom, so it was running wildly all over the pan and almost up to my arm --- I was shrieking and hopping and rushing out the door and in panic just chucked the whole apparatus out – only to have it all crash down our flight of stairs, hitting each one along the way (at 2 am in our quiet little apartment building).

More to come…

Letter to Andrew

I watched the sun set over miles of ocean, framed by the Mumbai cityscape (skyscrapers and slums)…

I’ve been pretty sick for the past two days, but am feeling better now.

How we got sick (there were three of us) is a pretty ironic story. We were invited to this posh birthday party for some distant relative of Shivani’s, and we had fun dancing and then had dinner (pizza, amongst other things). But --- the three of us that got sick were the ones who didn’t wash our hands after riding the train to get there! It’s interesting, I’ve never had the point driven home so clearly before – about why soap etc is so so vitally important.

Monsoon season has started!!! It was so beautiful, we saw some kids splashing around in the newly formed (but deep) puddles by lamplight. But by the time we got out the rain had subsided a lot, so i’m waiting for another day to get properly soaked.

I’m eating a small box of Indian desserts as I write this – they’re delicious and almost taste like marzipan mixed with cardammon. Other interesting food we’ve had: rose milkshakes, sav pourri (it’s kind of like samosas and nachos combined), Indian burgers (vegetarian and spicy), and this crepe-like meal called a dosa.

We moved today to a different flat – or, as people say here, we “shifted” to a different flat. It’s been interesting to notice all of my reactions. Originally, we were living in this modest middle-class apartment in a quietish part of the city, where you would see the same people everyday on the streets and had to fill up a bucket of cool water and use a ladel-type cup to pour water over yourself. Now we’re in this 5-star hotel-esque 27 story building and have marble floors, AC in every room, and western showers.

TBC………….

Letter to my Mom and Dad

Two friends and I went to Elephanta Island (I mentioned this before, but not in detail).

We got the last ferry over, and I learned how to count to ten in Hindi during the 45 minute boat ride, in between enjoying the view of Mumbai’s skyline and of the beautifully dressed family across from us with three kids who kind of tumbled all over each other and their parents.

After docking and leaping to the pier, we walked towards the center of the island, past rows of stalls selling everything from purses and intricately latticed stone elephant carvings, to these bitter-dry purple berries and grilled corn. It reminded me a little bit of the road to the volcano in El Salvador, where there are flowers vendors and people selling atol.

The caves themselves were incredible. They are actually carved far into the stony walls and are ancient and beautiful and deeply spiritual feeling. You walk though a series of pillars, and it gets darker and cooler the further you go in. the pillars were both graceful and strong, creating a sense of depth and space. They reminded me of one of your photos, mom - the one of some Byzantine church or something, where there are rows of pillars, you know? Etched into the walls were very detailed religious scenes, of Shiva and Ganesh and other Hindu gods. My friend told us the story behind one of the depictions –

Two brothers were asked

One small room was filled with yellow and orange and white flowers, and leaked out this thick sweet incense – a smell that will always remind me of this place. There was a space beyond the caves where rainwater collected during the previous years’ monsoon, and which the island’s three villages use for their drinking water. Water, especially clean water, is so precious here.

Earlier, we had spotted several monkeys in the trees by the cave’s entrance – hop-leaping from one spindly bowed over branch to another and nibbling at what most have been tiny berries. On our way out, we almost ran into a whole crowd of them gathered around a shallow pool by a water spigot – and there were babies ! they were miniature and bald and you could just barely see them peeping out from their mom’s stomach and arms. The adults were pretty small, but their faces looked old and wise, and their fingers seemed very purposeful in all of their movements. We watched them drink delicately from the pool of water, and a few of the babies ventured away from their parents for a few steps… I could’ve stayed there for hours.

We caught the last ferry ride -- and it was so much fun! The sun was starting to sink so everything was golden and blue, and the breeze was in our faces, and the boatmen played the radio, so our voyage had a bollywood soundtrack which made it feel like a film montage – I felt so alive and fresh and invigorated and fast-traveling and felt like my whole body-mind was saying “ YESSS!”

Letter to My Family and Andrew

India. It’s beautiful and chaotic here. It’s warm and hot and sticky and thick and there are people everywhere and rickshaws that careen through the streets and almost crash and run over people but somehow always make it just in time. There are beautiful trees that spread over the streetways, some with beautiful red and yellow and pink flowers and beautiful bark that looks like an organic spiraling statue and sometimes interlocks with the stone walls.

This morning we played soccer in a parking lot with five little boys - - I scored a goal! But they won – we’ve determined to have early morning practices until we can win a game against them. Wish us luck!

We went shopping later and I got comfy high heeled shoes that are supposedly good for walking around during monsoons – so that your feet don’t walk through puddles!

Now we’re all relaxing in the apartment (which is near an ashram and there are holy cows across the way! We tried to feed them, which is supposed to be good luck – they’re beautiful, and in the afternoons they roam around the neighborhood we live in).

We booked flights to New Delhi for a weekend in the middle of June, which means I’m going to get to see the Taj Mahal!!