Old Delhi

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Just Another Day in the Big City

Three Ladies on a Bench

 Today, I came to the realization that the last four weeks have been the most relaxing four weeks in Academia that I have had since somewhere mid-high school. It is strange to think that I found relaxation in what was and is supposed to be very difficult and stressful adjustment for me. Perhaps, as the saying goes, I simply needed to get away from everything—everything being that of my life in America. Life is different here, mostly within the day’s routines. I wake up early—very early—six in the morning. Sometimes I rustle awake around five and wake to the man out in the darkness singing “the call to prayer.” Sometimes I wake in the passing hours of the night to the watchmen that works the late shift in our gated community. I will here him walking with his stick, tapping the ground like a night-creature, one that I need not fear.

Qutb Minar-in It

***
Yesterday my friend and I wondered through Hauz Khas Village, a touristy area of little shops and knick knacks. Très Chic—Très expensive.

Today, though I had no formal class, I woke early for a class field trip to the Qutb Minar—a mosque built in the middle ages by Qutb-ud-din Aibak. A beautiful site in both topography and archeology, I really enjoyed my visit. Delhi is the great mix of a city; It’s a city rooted in culture and history, and a city growing to become a nouveau metropolis.

After my field trip to the Qutb Minar, my friend and I went to Select City Mall and window shopped. Malls in Delhi feel very much like the malls back home. If you are not careful, you almost feel surprised to still be in India when you finally step back out onto the hectic streets of Delhi.


Photos of Hauz Khas and Qutab Minar:

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And It's Only Wednesday

Monday Market

Monday is market night in the area where I live. There is a long, wide, street just adjacent to the apartment complex where I live. Vendors of many different goods set their merchandise up along the cobblestone road, laying out their goods on blankets they’ve situated on the ground, or in wooden carts with big wooden wheels that remind me of America’s West. I went to the market with the lady that works for my family. She had to buy vegetables, and I tagged along her—like a child would his mother— as she bought produce. It was amazing how a street that during the daylight hours is lined with dogs, cows, and vagabonds, could suddenly become this fruit and vegetable Mecca. I stayed behind when the lady help went back home; I wanted to explore and see what all goods were here in this market. I noticed that one could find anything and everything at this market. Aside from produce, there was anything from shoes, earrings, plastic Tupperware, and scissors, to mirrors, fingernail polish, and fish (to eat). I wasn’t sure about market etiquette, such as bargaining, so I did not purchase anything for fear of being ripped off. I have since learned that bargaining is appropriate and expected, so I expect to buy lots of stuff next Monday.


Wednesday Mall

Today is India’s Republic Day, which the constitution of India came into place in 1950, replacing the Government of India Act in 1935. As a national holiday, it is actually illegal to work, so nonetheless I did not have school today. Instead, I walked to the mall by my house and did mostly window-shopping with some light purchasing on the side. I found the mall to be a fabulously relaxing experience. The mall played mostly classical music, except for a handful of lyrical songs. Now, one of my friends told me that Indian fashion tends to be about 10 years behind America. I am no expert, but I will say that today, I found the Mall’s music selection, personally, reminiscent of the 90s. The mall played R.Kelly’s I Believe I can Fly, The Backstreet Boys, and Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On.

Best Day Ever (BDE)

List of 10 Amazing things I did today/that happened to me:

10. Ate another rava masala dosa and died and went to heaven. Except my friend and I went to a legit restaurant (a really nice one) so it cost us rs. 90 instead of the 38 rs. I spend on a rava masala dosa and this hole-in-the wall joint in the market behind my school. And the hole-in-the wall rava masala dosa is better. But Dosas are amazing regardless...so BDE.

9. Bought these beautiful orange flowers at the market next to my house for rs. 50 and put them in my room. Amazing. BDE.

8. We to Lag Pant Nager Central market and bought, in the following order:

• Vegetarian momos—basically pot stickers and also street vendor food. Yum. (Yes, mother it’s safe to eat.)
• A belt—nope…it’s just that when you wash your clothes without a dyer, they don’t shrink back down…which could be consider a good thing when eating Rava Masala Dosas.
• Bangles—amazing. BDE.
• A chocolate milkshake—ehhhh no so BDE but still had a vague taste of what a chocolate milkshake should taste like so…BDE. But next time I’m sticking to somosas and jalebies (think: better than funnel cake).

7. Asked an Indian woman what was going on because there was some sort of rally. When I asked her, she seemed genuinely confused and questioned my identity, “What, you’re not Indian?” BDE. Finally. (The rally was about “the raised prizes of”…and that’s as far as I understood from the lady.)

6. Rode the bus and metro. I even had to change metro lines, and figure out how to get to Lag Pant Nagar. The metro line by my house is the yellow line, where as the one by Lag Pant Nagar is the violet (no, not purple—violet) line.

5. Bought “feminine supplies” from a chemist (pharmacy) not by my house, because (other than being like 13 years old) I didn’t want the chemist by my house to know me so well.

4. Technically it was today…Went to an Indian club, where my friends and I visited a DJ we met on Thursday, and danced the night away. Then had a fabulous and very limited conversation in Hindi with the taxi driver on the way home. Here is what our conversation consisted of:

• Taxi Dude: Hindi?
• Me: tori tori Hindi teke bolieye (I speak a tiny bit of Hindi)
• Taxi Dude: “laugh”

BDE.

3. Had not one, not two, but three cups of Chai. BDE. So much caffeine.

2. Washed my underwear. Apparently you aren’t suppose to give undergarments to the people that wash your clothes because they wash clothes by hand. So…yep. Not exactly BDE, but I’m pretty proud of my newfound “pre-washing machine” skills.

1. Finished Stieg Larson’s book, The Girl That Kicked The Hornet’s Nest. BDE.

America in a Jar

Well, here I am eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon. But to make up for me finally giving into to a nice ole’ PB&J, I will show you all what I am currently wearing…

My current favorite thing about Delhi is ironically also my least favorite part of Delhi. I love riding the autos (motor-rickshaws), metro, and bus alone. There is something so beautifully independent, thrilling, and self-accomplishing about taking foreign transportation. I love the feeling of sitting in an auto, after I have bargained the auto man for a reasonable, and not ripp-off, price. I love how I get taxied through the crazy streets of Delhi. I also love walking down the stairs to the metro and using my metro card, getting on the correct subway train, and getting off at the correct end point. I also enjoy people watching on these trains. Then, I love taking the bus from the metro station to my house. The buses here only stop for seconds, and today I had to grab the handle bars and pull myself onto the bus just as the driver was shifting it into gear. I love being the only non-Indian on the bus. Actually, it’s the only time I don’t feel stared at for being a white foreigner, and don’t feel like a foreigner.

That being said, I really dislike that it takes me an hour to get from my house to my classes. My commute to class is only about 20 minutes longer than the other students, so I can’t complain too much, but complaining is the essence of human nature.

 ***

I know it is wrong to categorize an entire nation, but I have come across many nice, and helpful people so far in my Delhi experience. I can recall three-four—six times when someone has gone out of our way to help us lost Americans find our way. The most recent was yesterday. My friends and I were in this huge central market in Lajpat Nagar, and we were trying to find this fitness gym my friend wanted to check out. After calling the gym and asking, we found out it was next to the Reebok shoe store. Of course we had no idea where that was, so we asked. We asked a random lady, and she asked someone else in Hindi where it was because she didn’t know either. Then, when we were uncertain if were still going in the right direction, she appears from across the street, crosses the street, and points us in the right direction. When we finally got to the Reebok store, we still had no idea where this gym was, so we asked. One of the store workers who knew where the gym was walked us to the gym! Then, today on the subway, I scanned for vacant seats, and thinking there were none, proceed to stand. A woman called my attention and pointed out an open seat that I had missed.

***

Back to dogs in Delhi…
So I am discovering their ways—the dogs outside my complex. Hans appears to fly solo (star wars) and always acts macho, like he’s top dog. (Maybe he is…) Then, there is a “pack” of dogs that seem to run together. Within this pack, there is a female (I’m pretty sure she’s pregnant), and a male (I think). The female is this cute little blond-orange lab looking thing; the male (?) is white with brown patches. There is another dog in this pack but I suddenly forgot what it looks like. Hans and the other dogs are always around in the mornings when I wait for my bus that I take to the metro around 7 AM. Hans likes to stand, sit, and sleep by this particular, wimpy looking, bush that is right by the edge of the market, which is also right behind where I stand on the sidewalk at the bus stop.

Yesterday morning I was waiting for the bus, and saw the orange-blond little mama at said hello to her. A lot of us (girls) in the group have gotten into this habit of baby talking to the dogs, since we can’t love on them. So I probably said something like, “Oh, hey wittle cootie pie” or something utterly ridiculous—but all of the sudden the dog realizes I’m talking to her, and lobs herself at my legs and just starts rubbing up against me, sort of how cats rub up against people. Her tail is wagging so hard that her whole body is wagging. Her friend White-Brown-Patches sees her and come to me wagging as well. Honestly, it was a very innocent little gathering, and if I had thought for a heartbeat that these dogs were going to go feral or crazy on me, I would have figured something out to get them away from me. But in the moment, it was so purely sweet and heartening that I patted their heads with my hand, which was wrapped in the sleeve of my jacket.

Eventually, I stopped talking to them (as if I didn’t stand out here enough!) and the dogs receded, but stood near me to the bus came. Not gonna lie, I liked it.

***

P.S. I officially almost give up on this whole not using toilet paper thing. Here is my logic: Delhi is in a water crisis, so why use water to wash my backside when I can use this cute little square of paper…Yep.

King of Opportunity

Dear Joseph,

First, I hope you had a chance to look through the photos I took in Ranthambore, as you may have noticed certain relevancies in select photos. Pictures aside, I know you are going through a time in which others are trying to base your future from. I have good evidence that such future concerns and thoughts are trivial to not only your immediate well being, but also to the very future that those individuals question. Unfortunately, I must pull my proof from your least favorite subject…

Once upon a time about 1000 years ago, there lived a man named Babur, Zahiruddin Muhammad Babur, to be exact. Babur was born a prince to the Timurid dynasty, a dynasty of Turkish and Mongolian descent. When Babur was around the age of 12-14 his father died, leaving him the Timur kingdom. However, like all adolescent princes that succeed their fathers too young, Babur’s cousins and uncles ousted him from his home region; they forced him to become a vagabond amongst the peasantry, on the outskirts of his homeland.

Babur’s dream was to take back his homeland, Samarkand, and rule the kingdom he was born to reign. Yet, Babur never accomplished this goal, and looked to a second option. Though less desirable than reclaiming his birth-land, Babur turned to—what one might call—a “fallback” option and decided to conquer India. Beginning with the capture of Kabul in Afghanistan, Babur made his way down through India, eventually defeating two major peoples of India, the Rajputs and the Lodhis. He established the Mughal Empire, and influenced the Indian Sub-continent (lower portion of India) with many scientific and technological advances.

While he didn’t conquer his first choice, Babur proved quite decent at conquering India. Next time you are confronted by a person who doubts your scholarly abilities, both past and present, let them know you’ve got a second choice in your pocket and you feel “Babur-ful” of making the most out of it.

Xoxo,
Anna

New York City and New Delhi

Dear Annie,

I often take the metro (subway) to and from the YMCA, which is where my classes are held and where my IES program is centrally based. On these metro rides I can’t help but be reminded about the time I spent with you over spring break in NYC. I have said this repeatedly in my blog, but I feel that my ease of transitioning to Delhi life has a lot to do with you taking me around and showing me “the ropes” of NYC. Today, I rode the metro home, and did it by my self for the last half (my friend got off a couple stops before me). I had to catch a bus from the metro to the house where I live. When I was riding the metro without any other people from my program, I thought about the time I went to the American Museum of Natural History (AMNH). I remember how you pulled out a map and showed me which subway to take (the c train!), and what stops to look for so I would know when the AMNH stop was coming up. You allowed me to establish a certain confidence traveling in new places alone, especially taking transportation new and unknown to me. I really appreciate having you as a friend, and thank you for introducing the city ways to me!

Love,
Anna

P.S. I have found NO ONE in Delhi that walks nearly as fast as you and all the other New Yorkers do. Not only that but the stairs leading up and out of the metro station are MUCH easier to climb up. Haha!

Tigers, Leapords, Crocodiles...

Good Evening!

I have so much I want to write and say. I usually sit down to write these post having my mind set on what I’m going to write, but then as I start typing all the littlest moments, smells, tastes, and sights that have made up my day hit me and I want to share everything! I feel so overwhelmed and overloaded—in a fabulous and incredible way—about all the things I encounter here. Delhi is so many things that I find it impossible to pinpoint one moment of my day to write about.

All things being equal, I will start where I last left off: Ranthambore National Park
First, I was very excited to ride a train for the first time ever in my life. Delta, Southwest, get with the program. My train had, not only, more legroom, but also more above storage room. And they served samosas (for rs. 10). As I rode from Delhi to Ranthambore, Rajasthan, I saw so many different living situations and people. Everything from lush green fields of farmland to trash polluted slums.

Once in Ranthambore, the IES group and I were amazed at our hotel. Our hotel was this beautiful white pillared building that reminded me a lot of Indiana Jones (thank you Hollywood). I must say, as a group, we were all disappointed in the food they served at the hotel. It was clearly catered to the British, American, and other foreigners staying at the hotel. The food lacked spice, and was completely bland, and the staff even called food by more American/non-Indian names. Instead of saying Palak Paneer, they called the dish spinach and cottage cheese. I also found that the hotel seemed to project a certain image of India-an exotic and purely beautiful India without any depiction of conflict or poverty. I actually missed the streets of Delhi.

I have to admit though, the Ranthambore Park was worth a couple of days of bland food. Even if I hadn’t seen any animals, of which I saw many, just seeing the topography of Ranthambore was incredible. We took two “safaris” (I hate this word, but how else can I say it) one in the morning and one in the afternoon. We almost didn’t see any tigers, but at the very end of the first trip, our guide heard a dear and monkey sounding their alarm calls. The guide drove us to where the alarm calls came from and within 20 minutes or so a tiger appeared! I only saw the tail end (literally) but it was good enough for me! Only about 1 in every 10 groups see a tiger, so our group was extremely lucky to see a tiger at all! I saw many other animals in the park other than a tiger: Sambar deer, spotted dear, crocodiles, parrots, a blue crane, monkeys, peacocks, owls, and these birds with orange feathers that ate of my hand. I was also very excited to see two elephants and one camel on the road outside of the park as well!

I arrived home yesterday afternoon and went to fabindia. This was my third and last time for a while to shop there, as I now feel the need to explore other shops and markets.

Photos of the trip:

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Lodi Festival and Stieg Larsson

First things first, I saw Hans today. At least I’m fairly sure it was him. He was all curled next to some bushes by the market where he usually hangs out. I went on another long walk today. Here are some pictures of the park right by my house where I have been running on the left.

Tonight, my host mom took me to celebrate the Lodi Festival. The Lodi festival marks the end of winter and the beginning of the harvest for (mostly Punjabi) farmers. A big bonfire is made and different foods (popcorn, peanuts, and sweet sesame seed snacks) are thrown into the fire as offerings to the Hindu Sun God. Going to this festival made me reminiscence on my own Jewish culture, because for a good thirty minutes before the bonfire began, people socialized like old bubbes before temple services.

Sorry for such a short post, but I’m going to bed for two reasons:

1. I am going to a tiger sanctuary tomorrow and the mode of transportation at the park is…elephants! (Y’all be jealous!)
2. I just finished The Girl Who Played with Fire, by Stieg Larsson, and had to go buy the final and third book to the series (at a really sweet book shop!!) so I really need to go read that. 

 

Photos of Bonfire:

Dear Followers and Readers,
I see I have given false information about a few things, so I have researched my statements and now present you factual information. I was very wrong when I made my statement that Sonia Gandhi was the Prime Minister of India. It is clear that I failed to fully understand the article I was reading on her, and for this I apologize. After doing some proper research, I see now that Mrs. Gandhi is the President of the Indian National Congress. I also now appreciate that I have invested some proper time into looking up who exactly Sonia Gandhi is. She was born in Italy, but settled in India upon meeting and marrying her husband, Rajiv Gandhi. Rajiv was the grandson of India’s first prime minister, Jawarhlal Nehru. Sonia spent a great deal of time with her mother-in-law, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, and even became a sort of personal assistant to her. However, Sonia was not fond of politics. Her husband did not enter politics, to her relief, until the tragic death of his brother. Rajiv felt it was his family duty and thus ran for and won his brother’s parliament seat. Upon the death of his mother, Rajiv became the prime minister. I will not get into to specifics here, but Rajiv faced some political challenges and lost his title as Prime Minister. When he attempted to rerun for the Prime Minister position in 1991 he was assassinated. Sonia retreated from political life, and it was not until 1997 that Sonia announced she was running for the Congress Party. In 1998 Sonia became the President of the Congress Party, which continued the legacy of the Gandhi name in the Indian government.

***

I would now like to offer some history of the Indian worn Sari:

The word for Sari comes from the Sanskrit for “strips of cloth.” The Sari dates back to the time of the Indus Valley Civilization (2800-1800 BC). Here are some brief beliefs on the Sari:

1. Sari’s are believed to have derived from dhotis, which were long garments worn by men.
2. Statues from 100 B.C. depict women wearing Saris with accentuated breast and hips with small waist. It is thought that Sari’s are meant to depict such shapes among women.
3. Another thought is that Sari originated to allow Dancers the freedom of their limbs while still maintain a modest appearance.

***

Before I go, I would like to extend a very warm thanks to everyone who follows my blog. I know sometimes I may not be correct in what I observe, and I hope I can come to distinguish what is an appropriate observation and what is not. I chose to study abroad in India because I knew nothing about this beautiful place, unlike many of the European cities I have learned about. I hope, when I look back and read through my blog, I will see how much I have learned during my stay here.

I encourage those that would like to offer me critiques, comments, or thoughts to email me at ALEVY@SKIDMORE.EDU and I wish I had posted my email sooner to avoid feeding you all false information.

Namaste and much Love,
Anna

Cows and What[notes]

Yesterday I went on this long adventures walk in my neighborhood. Delhi is certainly not a land of the suburban housewife. I went walking in my little exercise pants and tennis shoes and immediately felt like a fish out of water. I know people exercise here; they sell the merchandise (cloths, shoes, equipment) in stores. But Delhi isn’t like other cities where you see the fit jogger squeezing through hoards of people. Yes, there are some people that walk their dogs, but I think it’s more for the dog than the human.

Right by my apartment complex, there is the beautiful track and park. (I will try and get pictures without looking conspicuous…heh) I have been going there to job lately, and yesterday decided to explore past the park of small children and dogs. I passed through the park, walking directly through it to another apartment complex. This complex seemed more upscale than my complex, and made reminded me of a tropical paradise. Birds I had never seen before sat on balconies and pecked at gravel. Sun came through lavish trees and bushes, and along with the sounds of birds I felt most tranquil. The apartments in this complex were stacked three or four stories high, and I know not whether the different levels were one succinct living quarter or if each level was a separate house. Either way, the apartments are shaped more like elaborate squares with flat concrete walls—much like the houses in California, Arizona, New Mexico, etc. They appear to come in all colors—blues, yellows, whites, pinks—which only furthered my tropical feeling.

I came to the end of this complex and walked through the complex’s gate. What I find most shocking about Delhi is how rich juxtaposes poor—how a seemingly wealthy area neighbors a trash polluted and lay folk filled road. I walked down this road and immediately came to three white cows on the sidewalk. The cows were white (Delhi White, which is dirt colored white) and eating out of a dumpster. A man, I presume the man that owned the cows, was sorting through and shoveling trash to the cows so that they could eat it. At first I could not believe that the cows were literally eating trash—one cow was licking up a page of newspaper. But having now been in Delhi for a couple of days, I have seen many people and dogs going through dumpsters. As one of my friends said early, “there just isn’t enough food to feed all these people.”

P.S. I haven't seen Hans in two days...


Pictures of the park we picnicked at:

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Secrets

I have a secret…

Sometimes when I see a group of Indian (men) starring at my whiteness, I like to think they are staring at my hott American bod. Much of the reasoning behind the loose and abundant fabric of Indian women’s clothing is to hide the feminine figure from sight. Well, baby, no sari’s hiding these curves.



I have another secret…

Delhi is overflowing with homeless people, as well as homeless animals. When it comes to stray dogs there are simply too many to count. But for some reason, out of all the dogs I have seen, I have become mentally attached to one in particular. I named him Hans. I think there are two plausible reasons for why I have become attached to Hans. 1) I have seen him repeatedly more so than any of the other dogs in Delhi because he lives in the neighborhood I do. 2) He has hound colorings, which remind me of my beloved beagle. Unfortunately for Hans, Hans doesn’t look too hot. This morning when I saw him he was only walking on three legs. Something was wrong with his back left leg and it seemed he couldn’t really put any weight on it. When he “attempted business” he had a hard time lifting his leg, as such dogs do, and had to revert to a trembling squat. It is not uncommon to see dogs limited to three legs in Delhi. I cannot tell you specifically why, but I have to imagine these dogs live the literal Hobbesian phrase: dog-eat-dog.

What is even more heart wrenching, is that many of the uneducated people in Delhi do not know to treat animals with respect. I often seen dogs with their tails hunkered between their legs, or the heads hung low. I have also seen many dogs with shortened, stubbed, tails. I am completing speculating here, but it sometimes appears the tail has been cut.


I have yet another secret…

Today, my IES group went to a beautiful park for lunch. When we sat down on the lawn, two dogs came over and lent us their company. Now, I can’t guarantee that these dogs were or were not strays. Sometimes, nice people will put collars and dog-coats on the stray dogs to keep (the uneducated) people from being mean to them by making the people think the dogs are owned. So I pet them. Eep! Don’t tell the Shahs (My bff’s family)!!!

Days Extravagancies

Yesterday, I went to a shopping district called Central Market. Central Market is like a art’s craft festival on crack. And it’s a permanent market (as I realized with the shops that had marble floors and stairs). I wish I had taken a picture for you all, but the market was extremely busy (imagine the exodus of a sport stadium X 500%) and I am trying to tame my inner American tourist. That being said, I bought a beautiful white shirt with silver embroidering for 325 rs (about $6). It is really crazy how cheap everything is here. It is also mentally challenging because even if something is rs.1000, in my mind that is a huge number and for America very expensive, where as here it is only about $20.

At the central market I witnessed two horrifically deformed beggars: Both beggars seemed to be mutilated, because I highly doubt they were born with their deformities. (Remember when I mentioned how children are essentially run by pimps who deform them because this brings in more donated money…) The first beggar I saw was belly down on the ground with his legs hooked over his torso in a very unnatural way, like a pretzel. He scooted fourth thought eh crowd like an inch worm. With one arm he would push forward his metal bowl, then inch his body, push-inch-push-inch. It was very hard to see. The second beggar was without half his leg, from just below the knee down. He made the same inch worm like movements, except he was on his side.
Some of the girls and I in the IES group are looking to buy crackers/biscuits, fruit, or nutrition bars to donate to the beggars instead of money.

***

Before I went to Central Market, my House Mommy took me to buy towels. (Mom you would LOVE this store. It’s like bed bath and beyond but BEYOND.) The store is called FabIndia and sells house-hold items such as tables, pillows, clothes (saris, tunics, kourtis—[short tunics], exquisite flours for cooking, tea, etc. The towels I bought are pure cotton and they are beautiful. One is pink with designs, the other blue with green leaves.

***

And now for the big news! I’m getting married—no no just kidding! The big news is that today I took TWO autos by my self! I had left something at the hotel when I left for my host family and had to go and get it. When I got to the hotel, they gave me my item, but the staff (who had come to recognize the IES group) made me sit down and they served me chai tea (black tea with milk). While I drank my fabulous tea, I read what could be an equivalent to Time magazine, but for India. I read about Sonia Gandhi, who I believe is the prime minister and where India will be at the end of the decade (I guess they mean next decade? Not sure). Anyways, I was quite proud of myself for navigating the streets of Delhi. Delhi does ot work like America (that would be too easy). Auto and Cab drivers do not go by address. Instead, you have to give the either the colony or street you destination is on, and a landmark. So, this morning, to get from my hotel back to the YMCA where my class is, I had to give the street, Nizamuddin East, and a landmark, “Railroad station ke pas” (near the railroad station).

Indin Tidbits#3: Horses

A t-shirt i got. It says, "We are all Hindustn

"

Here are some things I have been meaning to mention in my post, but never got around to it:

The other day when I was going to the mall and the Sikh temple I saw a horse drawn cart. Though have I seen myriad homeless, hungry, people on the streets and countless stray dogs, this horse touched me the deepest. I think it is because, though I love all animals, my love for the majestic equine triumphs all. The horse was white, though his coat was dingy and brown with dirtiness. His Skelton was clearly drawn out and only lined by his skin. The horse reminded me of when I use to practice drawing horses from art books. The art books would always show how to draw the horse figure in steps. Usually the steps began as lines, sketching the baseness of the soon to be horse. Slowly, I would fill in the area around the line sketching, first with more lines and then with circles to provide the outline of what would become to full bodied horse. But this white horse seemed permanently stuck at just a sketch, nothing but a bare minim of lines. I do not feel bad for the horse, because I know the people that own this horse are short for food and do what they can to give some of their rations to this horse.

Today, I was reading an (English) Indian newspaper. There was an article on horses in small villages that are the sole provision on income for families. The horses are used to tow and ferry people from one end of a village to a main road for travel. This job is what brings income to the horses’ owners. An owner in the article was talking about how he paid 30,000 rs (about $640) for a mare. It was difficult for him to feed his family and his mare, but he needed his mare to make the money to buy his family food. Unfortunately, a horse-illness called Galander began to spread around the village and within two years his mare was dead. The government (I assume they are in charge of preventing such illnesses) only pays 30-50 rs (about $1) in compensation. The owner was in a quandary because he could not afford a new horse because he now had no income.

It is not uncommon to see horses in the chaotic streets of Delhi. My Delhi University guide told me of a time when there was horrible traffic: she was sitting in a car for a very long time when all of a sudden a horse and rider walked by, squeezing through the maze of jam packed cars. I must admit, when she told me this, I instantly wanted to move to Delhi and use horses and my main transportation.

***

Yesterday, before I moved into my host house, my IES supervisors took all of us to an Indian lunch place. This place served street food in a sanitary and healthy way, so we (Americans) were able to eat it. For those of you who live in Memphis, it was like going to Las Tortugas—Saratoga, like going to Putnam’s for lunch hour. But you have to multiply that chaotic-ness by at least 200%. First, remember how I was saying that there are now rules to Delhi driving, that cars do not stay in the lanes—Well I now believe that Delhians simply do not abide by any structured formation, especially lines. To order, you clump into a bigger clump of people and push your way to the cash register (you order first). I ordered a meal of rawal masla dosa, which is a pancake like break that is stuffed with delicious potatoes and spices. My meal cost 94 rs, but with tax it was 104 rs (about $2). However, I only handed the guy a rs.100. He kept saying something I couldn’t understand, even though he was speaking in English. Finally he showed me the receipt any pointed to the digit 4. I owed him 4 more rs. When all that was settled I had to go find the counter that would serve me my dosa. When I did, I had to, again, clump into a massive group. The experienced people at the lunch joint were pushing against each other in an attempt to hand the workers behind the glass counter their ticket for their meal. Finally, I got to the counter and handed over my ticket. Again the guy said something (in English) that I could not understand. I felt bad because he was speaking English, just with a thick accent (though I guess really I am the one with the different English accent). He asked me about three times until finally I understood, “here—to go?” Okay, so now I was just waiting for my food. I was waiting, still in the massive clump of people, hoping my food would find me. Eventually a guy came with my food and set the tray on the counter. I tried to take it, but he held onto the tray. I was very confused and tried again to take it. Obviously, I am a foreigner in this great country, because an Indian man looked at me and with perfect (British) English said, “He has to put more food on the tray, it is not ready yet.”

Finally I got my food and found a table with my friends. The place had tall tables, but no chairs, for a fast in-and-out eating experience. So we ate, and of course my dosa was delicious. Yay!!

***

Also, Yesterday I got mindi—also known as Hena.

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Cricket, but not the bug kind

I have just arrived at the house I will be living at during my stay in India. My housemother is very nice and hospitable. After picking me up from the hotel, we arrived at her apartment, which is in an area of Delhi called Vasant Kung. Delhi has small neighborhood communities called “colonies” that are surround by gates with limited drivable entrances. Think of the colonies as “gated communities” though they are much bigger in area. Each colony has a market, which consist of whatever store one might need (mostly). For instance, the hotel I was staying at for the last week was within Defense Colony. Within Defense Colony there were a couple of streets worth of little shops, and each street was a few stores long. In Defense Colony market there were/was: several grocery stands/places selling fresh produce and food staples, an office supply store, several clothes store, a sunglass store (defense colony is very nice $$), several chemist (the Indian, and I assume the British, word for pharmacy*), a couple ATMs, a flower stand…you get the idea. While the shops are fairly nice, it reminds me a lot of china town, with open faced store fronts, or shops that appear a bit run down and rickety.

*These chemist stores actually sell a lot of American products like Neutrogena, Dove, Nivea, Skintimate, etc.

I have digressed. My house is nice. The section of the colony I am in, section C, is clustered around a playground of a swing set, slide, monkey bars, jungle jim, and tumbleweed. The dry, brown, landscape of the playground made me remember that North India is more of a desert region. In front of my house lies a gated, beautiful, garden of flowers in clay pots and neatly kept grass. The complex of apartments itself is a yellow brown color—again bringing me to think of the hot climate—that appears to be a couple stories high. My house is on the first floor.

My house mother has been very kind to me thus far, and in the car ride from the hotel to here she mentioned how happy she was to now have a daughter (she has only a son), and that she is excited to “dress me up.” When we arrived at her house, we had chai (chai tea) and biscuits (sweet cookies for dipping in the chai) and sat in her “living room” adorned in purple, pink, and pale yellow fabric like curtains and burgundy cushioned couches. After Chai, her nephew came over (he is almost 2!) but he wanted to go back to his dad. My housemother, her son, and I walked her nephew back to his father, who lives within the complex, but before we arrived at his house we met him just past the dirt playground I was just describing. There, it was decided that we should play a game of cricket (the Indian sport!) and a bat and ball were fetched. We played with my housemother, the nephew’s father (relation to my house mommy…?) and the father’s two nephews who were around 10 or so.

I believe that all who know me will be quite impressed that I have just played not only my first British cricket game, but my first French cricket game as well. First we played British cricket, which looks much like baseball minus bases. The batter stands at the…batting area (?) and the pitcher throws just like in baseball, but instead of running to three bases and home, the batter aims to hit the ball far enough to be able to run straight to a certain distance in the field, and then back. This is called a “single run.”

Then we played French cricket. This game is much faster paced! The batter stands in a circle (bat length) with his/her legs locked together. The other team gathers in a circle figure around the batter and throws the ball to him. As the batter hits the ball, the other team attempts to catch it, and when someone catches it, they throw it either to another player on their team or pitch it to the batter. The batter has to jump in circles to keep hitting the ball—if the ball touches him he is out.


Pictures of my Bedroom:

Delhi Adventures!

me eating a paan Popsicle.

 Today has been another full busy day of orientation:
In the morning, I had my first of many three-hour intensive Hindi courses. I learned two vowels and five consonants. Hindi “letters” are identified by their sounds. I learned the letter/sounds: “Ca,” “Na,” “Ba,” “Ia,” and “Ha.” Oh, and the spelling of these sounds—I just made it up based on how they sound to me. We also practiced writing some Hindi letters/sounds, and even practiced reading a few words! Very cool—Hindi actually seems easier than English. It is a phonetic language and doesn’t have any upper or lower case differences. There are 46 sounds and endless names for many different nouns. For instance a child would call his/her mother’s parents and father’s parents two different names. Elders are never referred to by name, only their title, such as Auntie, Uncle, Brother, etc. There are also gender distinctions. Here are some Hindi words that I learned today:
Shabash—good
Lurki—Boy
Ji han—yes
Ji hanin—no


After Hindi Class, a bunch of local students (mine was from Delhi University) came and took us IES students out. It was two IES students per Delhi. My guide took us to one of the premier malls in Delhi and to a Sikh temple. After the mall, as we were waiting to catch an “Auto,” which is what the motorized rickshaws are called, and family of beggars came up to me and asked for money. I would have to say most of these beggars I have seen do not speak English, except for one word: food. They come up and draw their fingers together and motion to their mouth as if they were going to pop sunflower seeds into the mouth; while they make this motion they will say “food, food.” 

I was ignoring the family of beggars (literally a mother, some children, and a husband) when one of the little girls began to poke at my face to get my attention. In the moment I had no idea what to do and was completely dumbfounded. Then, as I began to thing about the incident I thought how dumb it was to poke someone’s face that you are asking money from—I kept thinking, “Wow, now I really want to give you money after you invade my space.” But now that I’ve really thought about it, I think it is very sad to have to literally touch someone so that they will notice your existence.

***

The Sikh temple was incredible—definitely my favorite visits ever to a religious place! When my peer guide, fellow IES student group member and I first entered the temple, we had to cover our heads with scarves. We had intentionally brought the scarves for such a purpose. Then we proceed to the booth area where we handed two men our shoes (much like at a bowling alley). Barefoot, we turned to wash our hands at a row of three sinks. With our hands still wet, we proceed to the white marble stairs, covered in green turf to prevent anyone from slipping. However, before we could trek up the stairs, we stepped into a running pool of very shallow—maybe a couple millimeters deep—of water. Finally we walked up the stairs and along a continuing green turf pathway to the inside of the temple. Once inside, we found a place to sit—it was not very crowded—and listened to three men sing the prayers of the certain saint that this temple honored.

The story goes…
Once there was a horrible king in Delhi who only wanted to shed blood and start war. From very far a way, the saint (I did not collect this saint’s name) raised his bow and arrow and aimed high into the heavens. He let go of his taut string and high flew the arrow until it landed. And where it landed was just before the feet of the evil king…and no more was there bloodshed and war.

Note: The Sikh religion value their hair and do not ever cut it. They wrap their long hair under beautiful head wraps seen in all colors.

Pictures of today:

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Photos as Promised!

Sorry for the delay in photos, snapphoto did not allow me to share photos as I thought it would.
Click Links Below:

Photos of Crazy Driving in Delhi
Photos of Humayan's tomb 

Namaste!
Anna

My first big purchase

Here are the socks i bought for 250 rs!

Hindustan

Indian Tidbits:  
The word India comes from the Latinized word “Sindhu,” which is the name of a river. When the Persians came to India, they pronounced the river Hindu/Hindi. Thus many Hindu’s refer to India as, “Hindustan.”    

“New Delhi” refers to the modern area of Delhi, the political area, and south Delhi. Old Delhi is everything else. When sending mail it is imperative to mark New Delhi.   

There are many different cultures in India, and different laws for each religious group. There are common laws that all religious cultures must abide by. An example would be that there are different marriage laws for each culture.    

Here are some English words that spawn from Hindi: jungle, cot, pajama, punch, bandana, bungalow, shampoo, loot, pundit, bazaar, bangle, caravan, sentry.    

The national color of india is red, this is why red is such a prevalent color. Women wear red at their weddings.

India is a city of Extremes

So for the last two posts I haven’t had Internet. It is definitely annoyingly inconvenient to me as an American, which only makes me feel more like a foreigner in this beautiful place called Delhi. I try and think of how good it is for me to not be able to have such modern convinces all the time. Not only has the Internet in the hotel not been working, but I have had some interesting run ins with electricity in this country. There is a button in my room that turns of all the electricity, and somehow this button got pressed unbeknownst to my roommate and I. For maybe 20 minutes we waddled in only the light of day, until finally another IES student came in, he had overheard that we didn’t have electricity, and showed us how to click the electricity back on. SO now we have light! But we have no electricity in our electrical outlet (?), which is also annoying to me because my computer and camera are about drained of batterly life. Of course, if I don’t’t have Internet it almost doesn’t matter if my computer has life (except to write these posts).

Luckily, today, my IES supervisors are taking us to the IES headquarters at the local YMCA. I am hoping to be able to charge my appliances as well as access the Internet! Yay!

***
Here are some tidbits on India:

To Sophie,

Sophie, there are many dogs that run rampant throughout the streets of Delhi. But they are not like American strays. They seem 100% functional as strays, and I have only seen one or two (out of the maybe 30-50 that I have seen) that are boney. When I see most of these stray dogs they are lying in the beautiful fields of the gardens I have been to, and are sunbathing in the warmth of the day. It doesn’t really get that cold here, maybe it gets down to the high 30’s at night, so the dogs aren’t at risk for freezing. Most of the dogs appear to travel together. Usually when I see dogs sunbathing it is not unusual to see three in a row, all sleeping in the same position and direction, like three pigs in a blanket. Also, the dogs are not scared or shy. They seem aware of their place in Delhi, just like many of the Indian people. They do not seek humans for love and affection, but if cooed at or if talked to they will wag their tails like Riley and jump around like playful pups. Last night, a cute little stray that I saw at an outdoor bazaar was hanging outside the restaurant stand my friend and I were eating at. This man kept shooing the dog away, but finally he began to talk to it. He sat down in a chair, and the dog rushed over and put her head in his lap and waged her tail. The man gave it quick pats on the head. It makes me sad that there are so many dogs without homes, but I have been told there is an organization that goes around and neuters and spays these strays in an effort to reduce their numbers. However, Sophie, dogs are not the only ones to live on the streets. I have seen many people that appear to live with their few belongings on the sidewalks. I suppose this is they way of Delhi.

India is a culture of vibrant colors. I have been told that originally, Indian was a bland desert environment, and people would use these rich colors to bring beauty and vibrancy into their world. Now, the beautiful colors mix into the beauty of the land and green of the India I have seen. It makes America look dull and plain.
The psychotherapist the other day told us that India is a city of extremes. Delhi is a city of very rich and very poor. Like I mentioned, there are many people lined on the sidewalks whom cook their meals over small fires. There are also exquisite shops and boutiques, and people that drive Mercedes-Benz and BMWs.

The other night, my friends and I ordered dinner at the hotel. It was amazing. But when we asked to wrap up our leftover to go the waiter gave us a wry smile. He wrapped up our food, but we felt like we had done something wrong. Then I asked if taking food “to go” was social acceptable. Apparently, in old India, food did not leave the table after a meal. In Buddhist culture, left over food was given to the poor. One of my supervisors told me that she will sometimes ask for to go bags, and that it is okay. She also said that she does not fret over wasting food, because left over food will be eaten by the restaurant help in the back, or by hungry people or animals.

Goal Number One: Don’t get run over!

Parrots at Tomb Site

Walking pathway around Humayan's Tomb

I would like to discuss two major things in this blog post. 1) The driving in Delhi and 2) the activities of the day that include the IES orientation, Humayan’s Tomb, and the Andhra Bhavan Canteen.
The way people drive in Delhi is like nowhere else in the entire world, at least I have to believe so. Driving in the back of a taxi here is similar to riding in a roller coaster—the kind that swirls upside down and jags to the right and left. It seems there a two styles of roads in Delhi: the main streets, which would be equivalent to Poplar or Broadway, and the one lane “neighborhood” roads, which would be like driving down a long extended driveway, or enlarged sidewalk.

One of the beautiful tombs

Let me elaborate on the first “main” type of road. There are three drawn lanes of traffic, that is the white dotted lines that distinguish the paths that cars should drive while on the road. However, there are four lanes of moving traffic. It is literally like bumper cars but for real. The main road is shared by pedestrians, bicycles, moped, rickshaws (the ones on the streets are motorized and resembled a three wheel motorcycle with a tarp covering), motorcycles, and cars of all sizes. There are crosswalks, but seeing as how India has the highest pedestrian crossing death rate, it’s obvious cars don’t slowdown in front of them. There are stoplights, which seem to be the only steadfast law of the road, and the only time cars stop. There are, however, plenty of intersections without lights, and at these cars slowly trek across the intersection and try to force their way through. The motorcyclist and bike riders have to edge themselves into whichever lane of traffic they aspire to be in. Often times they will be sandwiched so tightly in-between two cars that I feel as if I could stick my hand out the window of my taxi and touch them. I have been told that there are “unspoken” rules of the road, such as “the biggest car has right of way.” I have seen this in action, such as when a large construction truck merged into a lane without even yielding and the smaller (tiny tiny tiny) car behind him just let him do it. During these exhilarating taxi rides, I think back to Memphis and how, really, our driving and drivers aren’t that bad. And hey, if I can drive in Memphis, just maybe, I might be able to drive in Delhi…

Then there are the “enlarged sidewalks/ long driveway” roads. These roads are what cars take through the neighborhoods (of nice beautiful houses) and is the kind of road my hotel is off of. This road is shared by everything mentioned on the above road, though, I would say it’s mostly pedestrian with a few cars and motorcycles. I would also say the risk of actually being run over by the occasionally car or bike/motorcycle that comes by is relatively low, seeing as how the vehicle will honk incessantly at you until you move. These “calmer” roads are lined with people. Some people are standing around and chatting, some are cooking around a fire or food stand, and some are working on construction, such as digging or working on houses.

***

In the IES orientation part of the day, an American born-Delhi citizen psychotherapist came to speak with us. (IES offers counseling for those individuals suffering greatly form culture shock.) More than anything, this woman talked to us about differences between American social customs and Delhi social customs. She stated that India seemed to draw people that were seeking something larger—that were searching for something. She compared Indian to Thailand, saying that people will seek Thailand for pleasure; they will seek Thailand’s beautiful beaches and warm climate. But that people coming to India were, essentially, adventure-bound.  This same woman also touched upon the problems of children beggars. I had just watched Slumdog Millionaire on the plane ride over to Delhi, a movie about a boy, Jamal, from the slums of Mumbai and his winnings of a million dollars. In this movie, there is a scene where Jamal, his brother, and their friend end up in the hands of what seems like a saintly man but it turns out he mutilates children (cuts of limbs, takes out eyes/blind children) because such deformities cause people to give more money to the children beggars. As it turns out, this is a very real problem in India, which is grossly sad especially since often times the children must hand over all their earnings to the “racketeers” that deform them. I have been advised to formulate my own opinions on whether to donate to these children or not, though it is strongly advised I not donate to them because I would only be supporting the sinister racketeers. However, if I do donate to these children, it is much more advised that I give them biscuits (that I can purchase inexpensively) or fruit.

(Check Back later for photos of Humayan's Tomb. My battery is about to die!!)

After our orientation, the entire IES group of students, which is about 20 students from all over the USA and one from Spain, took a field trip to Humayan’s Tomb. This tomb site was beyond beautiful, with parrots flying in trees, and vibrant blue tiles still clinging to the ancient tombs.

Then, the IES group went to this amazing café called Andhra Bhavan! We first had to go through this gate and outdoor corridor (to get to the café). Going through the gate we had to have our bags checked/searched and there was this policeman/guard with this huge firearm/rifle standing there keeping the peace. (I really wanted to take a picture of the guard but I finally decided that was a slightly bad idea, especially if he got angry…) When all 20 of us (plus our 4 supervisors) entered the café it was incredible! It was like this huge room with tables everywhere and the place was so crowded that there was one man directing customers in, and one man directing customers out. Of course I had to use the bathroom, which was a very similar experience to my bathroom experience at the airport minus a cleanly sink area and soap. But hey, all is well that ends well. (Hand sanitizer!) The food at this place was amazing! I ate a couple of hours ago and my stomach is still warm from the fresh spiciness of the food. Here is how it works. The “waiters” bring you a tray with yogurt and sweetened rice. Then they continually come around and bring you entrees, rice, and bread. Every time I would finish one “side dish” a man would come with more food and plop it onto my plate! So amazing.

Music of the [hemi]Spheres

Garden behind the mall we went to.

Garden behind mall

above three photos are from a garden in the neighborhood next to our hotel.

above two photos are of the outdoor market

Today I had the most amazing hotel breakfast ever. The hotel served fresh orange and lechia juice, chicken sausages, porridge, cereal, a bean dish with tomatoes sauce that was really delicious, a potatoes curry dish, a rice-potatoes casserole type dish, spicy soup, and fresh fruit! I had everything except cereal and the chicken! It was so good. Then Two other people and I went sightseeing around our hotel.

We decided to go to a shopping mall, just to see what it was like. The walk there was quite eventful; the street we were walking down was shared by cars, mopeds, motorcycles, and people. Cars were constantly honking for us to watch out. Upon arriving at the mall, we went into a music store. When we checked out the international sections the music was: Elvis, Jimmy Hendrix, MJ, Kenny G, Taylor Swift, and Madonna. These are the musicians/artist that appear to represent the USA! We also went to a beautiful Sari store.

We went back to the hotel to get directions to an outdoor market. Back at the hotel we met up with a few other IES students that had arrived, and all of us went to the market. The market was amazing, beautiful things were for sale all over the place. There were many stray dogs (and I didn’t even pet a single one!) A man and woman came over to me and tried to take a picture with me but I said no. My friends and I walked around for a bit more and then took a taxi home. I would write more but I think jetlag has just about gotten the best of me!

P.s. I just took a cold-water shower in the hotel! I’m so proud of myself! Next trip: Africa!!!

Adieu!
Anna

“India has taught me to be Patient”

Delhi Airport--Customs

As I am writing my first official blog entry for India, I actually do not have any Internet access. I am writing via Microsoft word and going to post this whenever I go downstairs to the lobby and buy Internet. I think the Internet if free—at least for my fellow friend and I. But I think my program pays about 100 Rs, which is 100 rupees.

The plane ride to India was an experience. The plane served two meals: for dinner I had a vegetarian Indian dish which was fairly good, and for breakfast I had the option of an Indian dish, but chose eggs instead. I watched moves, played solitaire, and sat next to a handsome young man. A girl behind my seat relayed to me that she was returning to India for a second semester of teaching English. She said, of all the things she has learned most about India, she has learned to be patient because traffic is slow and people don’t commit to exact time as much as westerners do.

India…My friend and I arrived late last night, at around 10 pm Indian time. When we first stepped of the plane, it did not appear we were half way around the globe in another “world”—except all the airport workers were Indian (but hey it could be NYC.) My friend and I decided our first stop in the airport had to be the restrooms. We had just come off a 15-hour flight and both of us were dying to brush our teeth. However, we never ended up brushing our teeth in the bathroom because we were so dumfounded by the toilets in the bathroom. Walking into the ladies restroom, everything appeared “American-normal.” There were six stalls and sinks. I opened a stall, got all my luggage in with me and turned around to…a porcelain-covered hole in the ground. Literally. At first I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to squat like I would in the middle of the woods, or sit right down on the hole. (The hole was raised a bit thanks to the bathroom being two basic steps. One step when I entered, a second step that was the hole.)

 After I relieved my self, my friend and I went to baggage. We had to go through customs first, which was weird but a lot easier than I expected. Then we walked passed a huge duty free store and went to get our luggage—pretty easy as well. Now we just needed to find the person who was to be meeting us. It took us about 30 minutes. Once we finally found our man he told us to wait at a seating area, because he was waiting for another IES student to arrive. I have no idea what this guy’s name was—the only words he said to us were a couple of nods and grunts of acknowledgments.

As we waited people all around stared at us like we were animals at a zoo. I noticed two things right away. 1) Indian people appeared to be a slim culture. I did not see in heavyset people in the airport, except for one person. 2) Instead of using the word “Exit” to connote a doorway to the outside, the airport said “Way out.”

The third IES student finally arrived and our IES man took us outside to get our car. Outside still didn’t seem too different from America, except that everyone was Indian. There were some vending machines of American soft drinks and American hot dogs on the curb. Then our IES man took us into the street (not the curb) where we waited maybe 30 minutes for our transportation. It was about 49 degrees out, so my friend and I coming from upstate New York were quite comfortable. However, Indian people kept walking by us in full-face mask and gloves. As my friend said, “It looks like they’re dressed for the Alps.” When our car finally arrived, we put all our luggage in and drove about an hour to our hotel. The hour passed pretty quickly because I was looking at the window at India!  But still, this place called Delhi could have been a part of NYC.

When we got to the hotel, our IES man helped the three of us check in and get to our rooms. A hotel worker carried our bags up to the room my friend and I were sharing. We didn’t have any rupees yet and weren’t sure how to tip him. Finally we both gave him a dollar, a small tip to us—a small fortune to the hotel worker. In the hotel room, my friend any I watched an American movie with Morgan Friedman as we attempted to fall asleep. It was 1 am in India. This morning, we awoke to a bunch of noise outside our room, which would be virtually unheard of on the 3rd floor of most American hotels. It literally sounded like a bunch of Indian men had gathered chairs and were sitting in front of our door having a “good ole time.” I didn’t not open the door so I have no idea what was really going on.

Well, that’s all I have at the moment.

Xoxo,
Anna