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.