Hey everyone
I have not yet gotten my blog up to date, making this post seem a little counterproductive, but I felt like I should share one of the more special experiences that I've had since I arrived in India that justh appened to me literally an hour ago. I'm sure this type of thing has happened during other abroad experience over the last 20 (almost 21 *yikes*) years of my life, but only noticed how incredible it was for the first time today. If any of you have read Paolo Coelho, this is a similar situation to one of his short stories that I read the other day (which is why it was really ironic that this happened; maybe the universe is sending me a sign).
It was 12:00 pm; the Indian sun was at its apex, but luckily it hadn't reached the hottest part of the day yet. I was with my interpreter Senthil on his two wheeler motorbike, running errands for my Independent Study project on land purchases due to rapid urbanization and its effects on farmers' livelihoods. We had just come from visiting a nearby school that had been built on land bought from a farmer that I had talked to the day before. As we took the turn out of the school, I noticed the back wheel of our motorbike was dragging a little too much, and so did Senthil. He muttered the Tamil curse word "chit" (that can mean, great, damn it, fuck, shit, depending on your vocabulary) and said that we needed to find the nearest tire valla (tire vendor). Finding a tire valla, however, was to be a little harder than initially thought-- we were currently 20 kms from the outskirts of Madurai; all we saw were a few tea stalls and a group of men repairing and repainting three massive dump trucks to be used for some type of life job in the future. My interpreter stopped near the men with the dump trucks, told them in Tamil what the problem was, and the men wagged their head back and forth (the S. Indian version of a nod), pointed in the direction of the nearest tire vendor, and Senthil ran off to find a tire seller.
So there I sat with five Indian men dressed in lungis (a large cloth used as a type of manskirt-- decorated with ornate designs-- usually this cloth denotes that these men are of the working class) for the next 30 minutes or so in the shade of a giant tamarind tree. One of the men approached me and asked me what I was doing here. I told him I was a student in America studying in Madurai for the semester. He nodded and then asked me how I liked India. I said that I loved it; especially the food. He laughed. I asked him what he did for a living. He told me he drove trucks and got them ready to drive, which is what he and the others were doing now. He asked my age. I'm 20 I said. I'm 23 he said. We smiled at each other, a similar generational happiness, at our conversation. Two kids normally separated by half a world meeting for the first time.
Then I realized something I hadn't really noticed while I was talking to him: he had been speaking Tamil the whole time, and I had been responding in English, and yet we had little to no difficulty understanding what we were saying. The miracle of human communication had connected two people that couldn't be more different of background: I found out later that he had lived in a village his whole life; on the other hand, I had been to India twice in my life, and had been moving around ever since I can remember (rarely staying in one city or town for more than a year). It was then that I realized how special we all are, and how easy it is to understand if we honestly tried to do so. When we share our lives, we want people to listen; we just need a person with adjustable ears: one that can understand and listen with perfect clarity at all experiential sound wave levels. If we wanted to truly understand our needs, experiences, grievences, and knowledge, we could do so if we had the urge to hear the other talk without bound about his/her life. How simple conflicts would be if the egoism of our own interests would never block our ears!
My friends and family pride themselves on calling me a space cadet that can zone out with just a moment's notice, and totally miss what people say or tell me. From now on, I'm gonna seek to change that. I've heard from people that you gain the best friends in life if you are able to listen as well as you talk. Since I don't have the talking thing down very well (as most people know, I'm an awkward talker, especially after being in Madurai and losing about half of my working english vocabulary due to under-exposure), I think I'm gonna try and use my ears to communicate more often.
Hasan
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
India #7: A Brief Tour Finish
I should probably be finishing up my interview questions that I have in two hours with the father of my translator who happened to fit exactly into my "sample interviewees" (details of my Independent Study project hopefully at the bottom).
One thing I did forget to mention in my last update: my boat ride (the first of many) in the Periyar Wildlife Preserve. It was a small boat, covered by a metal roof, all decked out in the a darkish green (or was it orange...). Anyway, there was a huge watering hole in the reserve where many animals went to, you know, water themselves. It was about 3 hours long, and within those three hours, we saw a large family of boars, sambar deers (I did ask if these animals were involved in the production of a South Indian gravy sambar... Sadly no), elephants, water buffaloes, and storks either drinking or bathing themselves in water/dirt to keep cool in the 100 degree weather. I got some great pics of these animals. Sadly I have yet to post them...
Quick What/where/when/etc.
What: 2nd "educational" tour
Where: Kerela
Who: Me, and 15 other rowdy Americans
Why: *insert my new mantra* why NOT?
How: Van, House Boat, Ferries, Autos, Massive Buses with huge names on the top of them (to be explained), and my own two feet.
First stop: 8:00 AM in Kottayam:
Kottayam, as I said before, is essentially a big bulk of people pushed into a city-like setting. It had a very Madurai-like feel, but a very Bangalore-like population: not many people were decked out in their Sunday Saris (or salwars for that matter). Anyways, we left Kottayam at 8:00 AM on our way to a small suburb nearby where we would board one of the most epic boats I've ever seen. After an hour of rim rattling van, we found ourselves barging (no pun intended) onto what looked to be a mix between an enormous one story Gondola (picture Italian gondola and then enlarge the image about 20 times and you get this boat) and a thatched longhouse seen in American Indian "recreated reservations" in New England. I have pics of this, but they are not really... accessible, like almost all of my other pics (if you haven't noticed, there's a trend). The boat had the following amenities: two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen (with a TV?! and a GEORGE FORMAN STOVE?!), a large "lounge area" that overlooked the front of the boat, and a kitchen where 3 Indians sat preparing coffee, coconuts, tea, and fried bananas (sailors of the high seas of Kerela's backwaters). We spent around 4 hours on this boat, puttering slowly from the river we started on, across a pretty large lake, and into another random river. All the while, palm, coconut and banana trees lined the sides of the lake, giving it a more Florida feel, minus the immense amount of noise from drivers and beach clubs. It was really relaxing: I read 70 pages of the Lemon Tree, put it down cause I got frustrated at the P-I situation (again), then went on the front deck to sit in the scalding 90 degree weather (by now it feels like a nice 70 to me. To emphasize, the other day it was cloudy, and the weather was extremely cool-- I thought it was around 60 degrees. What weather.com told me, however, made me realize how brainwashed my body's weather complex had become: it was 85.21 degrees fareinheit. I laughed. For three straight minutes. The upcoming Maine winter is going to OWN me). It was relaxing, and all the while I said hello to locals passing on boats, small gondolas, or farming on the side of the lake.
After the boat ride, we arrived in a town around 2 hours outside of Cochin, our eventual destination. We once again filed into the van, and hit the most straight roads (each of our stomachs said a mini thank god) I've seen since visiting Ohio on my College tour junior year. We arrived in Cochin at around 5 pm, after passing what seemed to be at least five pizza huts (and a subway?!). Cochin is a very interesting place. It is set about 3/4 of the way down the Western coast of India, and takes up an enormous amount of room. Contrary to popular belief, the city got more and more spread out as you approached the sea. The more inland you got, the more like Manhattan it got. The more towards the sea, the more fishing colonies, deceivingly beautiful beaches, and quaint little communities emerged. We pulled into the hotel, me and a couple of guys went to scan the area (and to look for an extra memory card for my camera), checked out the prices at Pizza Hut (and found a Domino's int he process), and returned to the hotel. That night we ate the most inedible meal I have experienced since my mom tried so valiantly to convince me that eggplant was a great invention in 7th grade. The worst part: it costed 180 rupees. The even WORSE part: my stomach hated the concept of this hotel's meal, and straightway gave me one of the worst bouts of stomach pains/gas/diarhea/burps/throw up sensations/nausea I've ever experience at the same time. What a knock out combo. Needless to say, I ordered Domino's and a bottle of Kingfisher (local beer, well relatively local-- it's made in Bangalore) the next night.
The next day we woke up and took, take a guess, a boat tour of Cochin. We first stopped at Fort Cochin to see the oldest church in Kerela, built by the Portuguese right after Da Gama's historic journey from Portugal, around Cape Town in S. Africa, and to straight on to Cochin. Da Gama was buried in the church back then, and his tomb rests in the church. It wasn't heavily decorated, though the caretakers said it was still used by the locals for prayers.
We got back onto the boat and then went to the best part of our tour in Kerela (for me anyway). Get ready to laugh. We stepped off the boat, and the first sign I saw said the following:
One thing I did forget to mention in my last update: my boat ride (the first of many) in the Periyar Wildlife Preserve. It was a small boat, covered by a metal roof, all decked out in the a darkish green (or was it orange...). Anyway, there was a huge watering hole in the reserve where many animals went to, you know, water themselves. It was about 3 hours long, and within those three hours, we saw a large family of boars, sambar deers (I did ask if these animals were involved in the production of a South Indian gravy sambar... Sadly no), elephants, water buffaloes, and storks either drinking or bathing themselves in water/dirt to keep cool in the 100 degree weather. I got some great pics of these animals. Sadly I have yet to post them...
Quick What/where/when/etc.
What: 2nd "educational" tour
Where: Kerela
Who: Me, and 15 other rowdy Americans
Why: *insert my new mantra* why NOT?
How: Van, House Boat, Ferries, Autos, Massive Buses with huge names on the top of them (to be explained), and my own two feet.
First stop: 8:00 AM in Kottayam:
Kottayam, as I said before, is essentially a big bulk of people pushed into a city-like setting. It had a very Madurai-like feel, but a very Bangalore-like population: not many people were decked out in their Sunday Saris (or salwars for that matter). Anyways, we left Kottayam at 8:00 AM on our way to a small suburb nearby where we would board one of the most epic boats I've ever seen. After an hour of rim rattling van, we found ourselves barging (no pun intended) onto what looked to be a mix between an enormous one story Gondola (picture Italian gondola and then enlarge the image about 20 times and you get this boat) and a thatched longhouse seen in American Indian "recreated reservations" in New England. I have pics of this, but they are not really... accessible, like almost all of my other pics (if you haven't noticed, there's a trend). The boat had the following amenities: two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen (with a TV?! and a GEORGE FORMAN STOVE?!), a large "lounge area" that overlooked the front of the boat, and a kitchen where 3 Indians sat preparing coffee, coconuts, tea, and fried bananas (sailors of the high seas of Kerela's backwaters). We spent around 4 hours on this boat, puttering slowly from the river we started on, across a pretty large lake, and into another random river. All the while, palm, coconut and banana trees lined the sides of the lake, giving it a more Florida feel, minus the immense amount of noise from drivers and beach clubs. It was really relaxing: I read 70 pages of the Lemon Tree, put it down cause I got frustrated at the P-I situation (again), then went on the front deck to sit in the scalding 90 degree weather (by now it feels like a nice 70 to me. To emphasize, the other day it was cloudy, and the weather was extremely cool-- I thought it was around 60 degrees. What weather.com told me, however, made me realize how brainwashed my body's weather complex had become: it was 85.21 degrees fareinheit. I laughed. For three straight minutes. The upcoming Maine winter is going to OWN me). It was relaxing, and all the while I said hello to locals passing on boats, small gondolas, or farming on the side of the lake.
After the boat ride, we arrived in a town around 2 hours outside of Cochin, our eventual destination. We once again filed into the van, and hit the most straight roads (each of our stomachs said a mini thank god) I've seen since visiting Ohio on my College tour junior year. We arrived in Cochin at around 5 pm, after passing what seemed to be at least five pizza huts (and a subway?!). Cochin is a very interesting place. It is set about 3/4 of the way down the Western coast of India, and takes up an enormous amount of room. Contrary to popular belief, the city got more and more spread out as you approached the sea. The more inland you got, the more like Manhattan it got. The more towards the sea, the more fishing colonies, deceivingly beautiful beaches, and quaint little communities emerged. We pulled into the hotel, me and a couple of guys went to scan the area (and to look for an extra memory card for my camera), checked out the prices at Pizza Hut (and found a Domino's int he process), and returned to the hotel. That night we ate the most inedible meal I have experienced since my mom tried so valiantly to convince me that eggplant was a great invention in 7th grade. The worst part: it costed 180 rupees. The even WORSE part: my stomach hated the concept of this hotel's meal, and straightway gave me one of the worst bouts of stomach pains/gas/diarhea/burps/throw up sensations/nausea I've ever experience at the same time. What a knock out combo. Needless to say, I ordered Domino's and a bottle of Kingfisher (local beer, well relatively local-- it's made in Bangalore) the next night.
The next day we woke up and took, take a guess, a boat tour of Cochin. We first stopped at Fort Cochin to see the oldest church in Kerela, built by the Portuguese right after Da Gama's historic journey from Portugal, around Cape Town in S. Africa, and to straight on to Cochin. Da Gama was buried in the church back then, and his tomb rests in the church. It wasn't heavily decorated, though the caretakers said it was still used by the locals for prayers.
We got back onto the boat and then went to the best part of our tour in Kerela (for me anyway). Get ready to laugh. We stepped off the boat, and the first sign I saw said the following:
JEW TOWN
Seeing such a blatant name implying Jews were here was quite humorous-- it was like naming the Bronx The Hasid Quarter. Directly under it says "Ethnic Passage", which I thought to be a little bizarre, given that Jews are not an ethnicity... (I also saw a "Jew Town" sign perched directly on top of a "God's own Country" sign... irony?). Cochin, remarks a sign outside of the old sephardi synagogue there, houses currently around 95 Jews total, yet only 10 family practice on a daily basis. News to me. Jew Town was pretty awesome. There were Hebrew words perched all over the place, and the town was set up as a huge circle of cobble-stone roads lined by handicraft, textile, and souvenir shops (and a memory card stall, at which I still didn't freaking find a memory card. Stay tuned for my camera solution). At the end of one of the roads stood the sephardi synagogue, dating back around 400 years as well. I wasn't able to take a picture of the synagogue, because the caretakers disowned anyone who did. Yet they still took 10 rupees from all visitors (sigh... Jews and their rules). For those with a background in Synagogue architecture, picture a sephardi style synagogue (podium in the middle) facing steps that led up to a golden ark. Around the podium were literally no chairs-- benches lined the walls surrounding the podium, but the caretaker said that everyone worshipping there sat on the floor to pray. He also said that there were only 10 practicing families still here, and that men primarily led the service, though they have started teaching women and children (post-b-mitzvah of course) the services so the men "don't get too bogged down" in work (sounded like they were quasi-orthodox). I saw a sign saying "Haval Al Azman", and it brought me back to the days I spent in Israel on a bus when our Hebrew teacher Racheli would have us do this progression: (How do you say good?! Tov!, after Tov? Tov Meod, Tov Meod, Metzuyan, Metzuyan, Haval Al Azman!)... It was a good time. I almost bought a hippie shirt, but instead bought the book that changed my life: The Zahir by Paolo Coelho. Everyone go out and buy it. After reading it, you will never have a bad day. Ever.
Post-Jew town, we went to a nearby cafe. Ate great food, drank real iced tea, and only costed us 100 rupees. What a great meal.
Afterward we went to the waterfront, read for a time, then went back to a cultural arts exhibition. There we saw traditional Kerela fighting/martial arts, traditional dancing, and ACTING THROUGH DANCE (which was INCREDIBLE. This style of dance incorporated traditional dance with facial expressions that would blow your mind. The actor uses all parts of his face to portray his feelings: he scrunches up and down the neck, moves the eye brows up and down at a rapid pace, has different eye movements/shapes for each feeling, and on top of that, uses his body to fill up the stage. It truly was remarkable. I can't explain it well, but I tried to do it after I saw it. I ended up on the floor, with three Indian kids and 15 Americans laughing at me. Sigh, guess my future in theater was never meant to be).
We went back to the hotel, ordered pizza and beer, as I said before, and watched Anoop become the 13th on American Idol. Nothing special.
Next day: gondola tour down a side water outside of Cochin. We took mini house boats (this time, about the size of a real Gondola) with men gondolaing behind us with huge bamboo sticks. I tried steering the boat. It was freaking hard. Saw some nice views like the rest of our boat tours, and then headed back.
Some of us went back to the same cafe we had gone to the day before, this time eating potato soup, chicken salad, and chips instead of carrot soup, grilled cheese, and sprout salad. There was no difference: it was still delicious.
Then, an epic journey. We crossed from Fort Cochin to nearby Vesper Island for a mere 2 rupees on a ferry, took the bus 26 kilometers to "Cherai" and walked to the beach. For those of you who have been fortunate enough to have visited beaches in North or South Carolina (not the Myrtle Beach ones, like the ones out of the way like Sunset Island), this beach was EXACTLY like that, only loaded with a bunch of Indian men that did backflips and cartwheels into waves. It was incredible. We got there at about 4 pm, when the sun was low enough such that it was around 80 degrees (or a comfy 60 degrees for all of those back in Maine, who wish it would stop snowing). The sand squeeked beneath your feet; the water was warm to the touch (but really salty for ocean water); the light was a bright orange for our time there. This was the refreshing beauty I was talking about. It rekindled that light in the back of our heads that is reborn when we see beauty, in any form, in the world around us. On top of it, I experienced my first sunset over the ocean. When it had become too dark to see the ocean, we took two autos the 26 miles back to the ferry and then went all the way back to the hotel, each of us feeling more refreshed than even Hampi. As I said before, Kerela was refreshing. Hampi still remains my favorite place in the world (directly beside the Israeli Desert).
We then took a night train all the way back to Madurai. I was able to get a whole 8 hours of sleep, despite the presence of five snorers in my car (must have been the ocean). Tour ended, and the IS period began, and here I am. I have much more to update, such as my IS project, why it hasn't worked yet, and above all, Pondicherry (which was very very anticlimactic... though I think it's cause I only saw one side of the city the whole three days I was there), but I really must do those interview questions. I meet the interpreter in an hour to go over them and go over my expectations (cause he is a first timer, and about as nervous as I am) for the interview, despite the fact that I'm interviewing his father (story of why I'm doing that will probably come tomorrow when I'm back from my interpreter's village). To all Colbians: hang in there, the snow will melt and so will your work... figuratively. To everyone else: until next time.
Love and Miss you all, and I STILL wish every one of you were here with me.
Hasan Bhatti, "The Most Likely to Make a map of Madurai before I leave for the US" (surprisingly I got the award for "directional ability"... didn't expect that one)
Post-Jew town, we went to a nearby cafe. Ate great food, drank real iced tea, and only costed us 100 rupees. What a great meal.
Afterward we went to the waterfront, read for a time, then went back to a cultural arts exhibition. There we saw traditional Kerela fighting/martial arts, traditional dancing, and ACTING THROUGH DANCE (which was INCREDIBLE. This style of dance incorporated traditional dance with facial expressions that would blow your mind. The actor uses all parts of his face to portray his feelings: he scrunches up and down the neck, moves the eye brows up and down at a rapid pace, has different eye movements/shapes for each feeling, and on top of that, uses his body to fill up the stage. It truly was remarkable. I can't explain it well, but I tried to do it after I saw it. I ended up on the floor, with three Indian kids and 15 Americans laughing at me. Sigh, guess my future in theater was never meant to be).
We went back to the hotel, ordered pizza and beer, as I said before, and watched Anoop become the 13th on American Idol. Nothing special.
Next day: gondola tour down a side water outside of Cochin. We took mini house boats (this time, about the size of a real Gondola) with men gondolaing behind us with huge bamboo sticks. I tried steering the boat. It was freaking hard. Saw some nice views like the rest of our boat tours, and then headed back.
Some of us went back to the same cafe we had gone to the day before, this time eating potato soup, chicken salad, and chips instead of carrot soup, grilled cheese, and sprout salad. There was no difference: it was still delicious.
Then, an epic journey. We crossed from Fort Cochin to nearby Vesper Island for a mere 2 rupees on a ferry, took the bus 26 kilometers to "Cherai" and walked to the beach. For those of you who have been fortunate enough to have visited beaches in North or South Carolina (not the Myrtle Beach ones, like the ones out of the way like Sunset Island), this beach was EXACTLY like that, only loaded with a bunch of Indian men that did backflips and cartwheels into waves. It was incredible. We got there at about 4 pm, when the sun was low enough such that it was around 80 degrees (or a comfy 60 degrees for all of those back in Maine, who wish it would stop snowing). The sand squeeked beneath your feet; the water was warm to the touch (but really salty for ocean water); the light was a bright orange for our time there. This was the refreshing beauty I was talking about. It rekindled that light in the back of our heads that is reborn when we see beauty, in any form, in the world around us. On top of it, I experienced my first sunset over the ocean. When it had become too dark to see the ocean, we took two autos the 26 miles back to the ferry and then went all the way back to the hotel, each of us feeling more refreshed than even Hampi. As I said before, Kerela was refreshing. Hampi still remains my favorite place in the world (directly beside the Israeli Desert).
We then took a night train all the way back to Madurai. I was able to get a whole 8 hours of sleep, despite the presence of five snorers in my car (must have been the ocean). Tour ended, and the IS period began, and here I am. I have much more to update, such as my IS project, why it hasn't worked yet, and above all, Pondicherry (which was very very anticlimactic... though I think it's cause I only saw one side of the city the whole three days I was there), but I really must do those interview questions. I meet the interpreter in an hour to go over them and go over my expectations (cause he is a first timer, and about as nervous as I am) for the interview, despite the fact that I'm interviewing his father (story of why I'm doing that will probably come tomorrow when I'm back from my interpreter's village). To all Colbians: hang in there, the snow will melt and so will your work... figuratively. To everyone else: until next time.
Love and Miss you all, and I STILL wish every one of you were here with me.
Hasan Bhatti, "The Most Likely to Make a map of Madurai before I leave for the US" (surprisingly I got the award for "directional ability"... didn't expect that one)
Monday, March 9, 2009
India #6 (for real): Finals and 1/2 of Kerela
Hello everyone,
A lot has happened since I last wrote. I meant to get to an update before I left, but unfortunately I didn't do that well planning time for it... I guess I'll start with finals week and try to get to today, but we'll see how that goes.
I think I'll outline my week before tour (finals week) to get in the "spirit" of the week (which was characterized by me doing an obscene amount of homework within an incredibly small amount of time-- 4 essays and one test in a five day period):
I. Coffee Addiction Update
II. Hasan Bhatti, contact for The Guinness book of World Records?!
III. Shifting Houses
IV. The Miracle of the Butt Gun (yes, I do mean two t's)
As you all well know, I'm currently fighting my addiction to coffee. So far, it is not going so well. My host mother has gotten in the habit of giving me coffee in the morning, and my tongue has gotten used to the warm milk drink with a sliver of caffeine that I find it hard to ask for anything else when I wake up. The good news: I no longer drink coffee when I get back from SITA. The bad news: I usually still have two "tea times" at SITA... during both of which my hands grow a mind of their own, and the next thing I know, I'm sitting there with an empty mug with coffee dregs at the bottom. That's probably a bit of an exaggeration, but it has become habit to get coffee at these tea times. In all, I'm failing at laying off the caffeine.
Me? A Guinness book of world records contact? who knew? Well, let me tell you how I "earned" that title. It was Saturday, and I still had to finish my final paper for Environmental Issues. The SITA building had just closed for the day, and I was walking into my internet cafe of choice to finish it on a word document (there are three of them really close to SITA. The one that I like has very very nice people who talk to you and introduce you to family friends. The connection isn't great, and the other two are much faster, but I like the atmosphere, so I keep going back). As I walk in, I say hi to the two attendants, a married couple (arranged of course), who normally make small talk with me as I'm checking facebook or updating my fantasy basketball league (which I'm still getting pwned in). This time, I find an older gentleman with a huge manila folder filled with papers and documents talking to the woman. The woman introduces him as her uncle (which is another way of saying a good friend... that happens a lot here). I say "vannakam," (what you say when you first meet someone) bowing my head to show respect, and he does the same. Then, he tells me to sit down and that he has something to tell me. I figures, why not-- I have 8 hrs to write 3 pages of my EI paper. So I sit down. Well, I had no idea what I was getting into-- what I thought would be a friendly chat about why I was here or finding out what he does around Madurai turned out to be the most amusing generalization about Americans that I had heard while being here. As soon as I sat down, he started to explain that his nephew, a boy of 4 years old, was a special human being. I asked why. He told me that a year ago, March 10, 2008, his nephew of 4 years had, with a huge map of the world in front of him, named every single country in the world in a mere minute and forty nine seconds (which is incredible by any standard). How was this possible, I asked. Apparently the kid had an exceptional photographic memory, where he could jsut look at a map or a document and then memorize everything on it, much like Danny the Hasid in The Chosen. He then opened the folder he was carrying, and began to show me countless documents that confirmed this feat: Tamil newspaper articles, notary signatures of those that had experienced the feat, a dvd of his nephew doing the deed, editorials praising the Indian educational system, his nephew's report card at the best high school in Madurai (the report card had straight 100s in every single category). The evidence was beyond what it needed to be: I believed him, and I would be surprised if no one else did. As I continued to marvel at this accomplishment, I was still wondering why he was telling me all this-- so I asked him. This was his response: well you're American, and I've been trying to contact the Guinness book of world records for the past year; maybe you could send in a good word for me and my nephew... Well that was a little shocking. Apparently, in his mind, the fact that I was wearing a Manny Ramirez Red Sox shirt, had a modern looking REI backpack, and a water bottle holder (three things that obviously set me apart as an American) meant that I was best friends with the entire Guinness "judging staff". I told him that I had read the book, but had no clue how to do this-- I was just as in the dark as he was. He was a little disappointed but didn't let up. He then asked me to circulate this story to my friends within SITA, as if this accomplishment would somehow be more visible to Guinness if a bunch of Americans were astonished and impressed at such a feat. I felt sorry for the guy, but the whole scene was just too hard to not laugh: Me sitting there with a very shocked, resigned, impressed, and altogether incredulous face, and him sitting there almost begging me to give him my "infinite" wisdom of the world of entering a world record. I told him I would do my best (email them, look on the website... you know, things that I could actually do), but I wouldn't promise him anything... and that was that. He said thank you for listening and that he'd probably be back at a later date and that he hoped I could get in touch with them.
So, let's add yet another definition to the image of Americans in their minds in addition to the following (not a complete list; I just can't remember them all): We all know and love Obama! (which people shout to me once they know I'm from America-- one time I was riding in my cycle with a bunch of other SITA kids and an auto driver going the opposite direction leaned out the side of the rickshaw and yelled in a very long, drawn out, almost mockingly dramatic manner: OOOOOBBBAAAAAMAAAAAAA!!!! Priceless), that we want to buy postcards when we wont buy the weird things that street vendors sell on the streets (such as a "mint one of a kind mini chess board for only 100 rupees..." yeah right), that we can be ripped off easily, and that we all know the process of entering the Guinness book of world records.
The same day, Saturday, I experience a pretty large change in my home situation, literally. Apparently, the house that I had lived in for the last few months had been a "rented house" to stay in while the family's real house was being built only 100 meters away (the new house was in the same compound and was essentially the same exact house in a different location). That Saturday, the house was ready, and my family moved everything into that house. So when I got back to my "old" house after finishing my EI paper, my room was an empty rectangle, save the tornado of papers and books that I sloshed around while I was doing my finals. Somewhere in the confusion of moving all my stuff, I lost my purple flashlight (I know mom... I'm sad too)... oh well. Our new house is very similar to the old one architecturally-- except this time, I was blessed by the gods above by one of the best devices in the world.
The Butt Gun. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like: a gun for the butt. Before I had told you guys about the process of going to the bathroom, and how Indian sewer systems were not equipped to process toilet paper (and that you had to use water to clean your... ahem, business). Ordinarily you just use a small cup of water, your left hand (sometimes referred to as your "poo hand" by SITA students), and a ton of soap. Not so with the butt gun. For those that wash dishes, picture the "sprayer" that was typically found next to faucets during childhood (I haven't seen them recently-- essentially they are like a hose attachment with a little lever in the back to release the water). That's what the butt gun is, except it spurts the water out with much more force (and for good reason). If you put two and two together, you'll understand why I'm pretty excited about this piece of machinery-- cause I'm not gonna go that deep into detail (mainly because some of you are munching on buff chick calzones currently). Suffice it to say that it is quite a refreshing experience.
K, now to tour. We went to the neighboring state of Kerela, described as the "most beautiful state in India." I still maintain Hampi as the most beautiful place I know in India, but they certainly were telling the truth; Kerela was very very beautiful. To me, the two places represent two different types of beauty that our earth possesses. Hampi's beauty slaps you in the face; it is a lot more explicitly different, and therefore the beauty is a lot more surprising and yet rejuvenating-- it's a totally different world that not many people have ever experienced before, and as such it is much more of a surprising and astonishing type of beauty. Kerela's is a bit different. I would characterize Kerela as a whole as more of a refreshing beauty; more like "oh god, there are still places like you left in the world." Kerela contained both familiar types of beauty and unprecedented ones as well: rolling mountains of greenery (and tropical plants), a long and beautiful coastline, horizons upon horizons of lush green agriculture (including huge tea plantations upon the mountains in S. India-- pics to come don't worry). Kerela was a nice respite from massive amounts of work to the IS period.
We set off the Sunday after my Guinness fiasco in vans due west for the town of Thekkedy (located right along the boundary between the two most southern states in India: Tamil Nadu, where Madurai is, and Kerela). On the way to Thekkedy, we took the winding roads up the Western Ghats, my new favorite mountain range. Our van driver was a little nuts, going a little too fast around the bends, that made most of us pretty sick by the time we got off. Thankfully we stopped in a small town to have tea time to recenter ourselves (at which I, yet again, got coffee... I really am not doing too good with this whole anti-caffeine campaign). We reached Thekkedy, and straightway went to a spice plantation. Thekkedy is well known for three things: tea production, spice production, and the Periyar Tiger Wildlife Preserve (all of which we visited). We got a mini tour of the spice plantation, got to ride an elephant (which was definitely as cool as I imagined, although it wasn't as scary as I remember it was when I was 8... I can't remember where we were, but I do remember taking an elephant up a pretty large hill with a cliff on one side and a solid rock wall on the other side... for those that haven't been on an elephant it swings side to side while you're on top, so half the time I was either thinking we would eat it down the mountain or get stuck on the rock wall... good times), and met a family of farmers who were drying coffee beans on large mats outside of their hut. There were two really really cute girls, one about 3 and one 5, that followed us around. I said hi to them and managed to snap a pic of them. Hopefully I'll get my act together and get them up at some point... that's a big if tho.
After the spice garden and our elephant ride, a group of us went to dinner at a nearby hotel (hotels here almost always have a restaurant associated with them). Bad idea. Three problems: A) too hot inside, B) the food blew, and C) no dessert. Epic fail. But it did spark a good ending: we got some ice cream downtown, the best I've had since Maple View Farms outside of Carrboro (usually the ice cream here tastes like whipped cream but has the consistency of butter... this time it was different, thankfully). When we got back from our delightful dessert, we experienced something peculiar back at the hotel. We were walking up the stairs when a hotel attendant with a smoking metal cylinder (yes think Christian priest going down the aisle with that smoking cylinder during a mass) filled with incense flailed the metal object around our halls. Quite a way to freshen up a hotel hallway, but man did it smell good (like jasmine flowers dipped in honey... mmmmm)
The next day, we arose at 6:00 AM to take a 3 hour "safari walk" in the Periyar Wildlife Preserve. It was a very nice day-- a comfortable 75 degrees-- and very bright. It was such a nice walk; the sun on your shoulders and the morning mist spraying your face. I often closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of everything going on around me. Such a nice difference from the hustle and bustle of Madurai.I have some pics of this setting as well; it was very beautiful and captured a lot of the sights that I often saw during my time in Kerela-- when I get them up I'll tell you guys so you can see what I mean. We saw lots of monkeys, some bison, a few elephants, and a ton of rare birds. No tiger (sadly), but we did see a tree that had been scratched up by one (that counts right?). An interesting thing about this ecotourist site: all the guides that worked there once were tiger poachers just 10 years before (and have contributed to the tiger's endangered state in India as a whole). Good planning on the preserve's part.
After the reserve, we were let loose on the town for the day. The town of Thekkedy was nothing special. It was just as tourist oriented as Hampi town was, with tons of stores devoted to silk outfits and small handicrafts that you could find almost everywhere (but that shop owners insisted were indigenous to Thekkedy only... that seems to be a common sales tactic in India). I had a good time just browsing the shops, talking to random Indians as I passed, and exploring the town with other SITA members. At night, we went to a very good restaurant to make up for the shittyness that was the night before.
The next day we went to a tea plantation in the morning, where most environmentalists would cringe. On our way there, the hills were absolutely covered in tea plants-- or large bushes about 3 feet tall. It was all very green and pretty, but any environmentalist would look at that situation and say: god that run off must be ridiculous. And they would be right. There were huge gulleys down the sides of these tea plants where rain from the wet season (From Sept to Dec) had torn the land straight apart. I have pics of this also. All in due time.
We got back to the hotel, and then left for Kottayam, a layover city for our journey to Cochin. This is the journey in which I fell in love with the Ghats. The views I saw on that bus ride were like none I've ever seen in the Whites or the Blue Ridges (for all you out west, spare your Sierra Nevada and Rocky nationalism. I'll get out there eventually). I was only able to take a few pictures cause my memory card (which only held 49 pics at the time) was running out of room, and I was on the side of the bus that was most often facing the mountain side, and not the huge valleys and peaks of other mountains in the distance (I got a new camera, thankfully, so this won't be a problem in the future-- this time I didn't get lost). I wish I could describe the views or show you epic pictures, but alas, it was not destined to be so. Stay tuned for the Himalayas!!!!
I think I'm gonna stop here. It's a nice mid-point, and I've been writing for about 2 hrs now... maybe I should really take a class in shortening my details and my points, cause honestly sometimes its just plain exhausting. Anyway, I'll update you on my current status. Right now I'm in the middle of my Independent Study period, during which I need to get a shitload of interviews and literature material to eventually form a 25 page paper about the effect of land purchases by multinational corporations and other groups interested in land ownership on farmers outside of Madurai (yep, that means I'll be spending most my time inside of a village!!!! SO EXCITED-- stay tuned for pics. They're gonna be sweet, guaranteed). This wont be hard and I know it-- I am really interested in the topic and I know that when I start, I won't be able to stop... it's just starting it all that is the problem...
Until tomorrow (when I'll write the rest of tour and update my current status). Love and miss you all, and I wish you were here to experience this country with me-- it's one of those countries that truly changes your life in ways that you can't even imagine. Keep being beautiful people :-)
Hasan
A lot has happened since I last wrote. I meant to get to an update before I left, but unfortunately I didn't do that well planning time for it... I guess I'll start with finals week and try to get to today, but we'll see how that goes.
I think I'll outline my week before tour (finals week) to get in the "spirit" of the week (which was characterized by me doing an obscene amount of homework within an incredibly small amount of time-- 4 essays and one test in a five day period):
I. Coffee Addiction Update
II. Hasan Bhatti, contact for The Guinness book of World Records?!
III. Shifting Houses
IV. The Miracle of the Butt Gun (yes, I do mean two t's)
As you all well know, I'm currently fighting my addiction to coffee. So far, it is not going so well. My host mother has gotten in the habit of giving me coffee in the morning, and my tongue has gotten used to the warm milk drink with a sliver of caffeine that I find it hard to ask for anything else when I wake up. The good news: I no longer drink coffee when I get back from SITA. The bad news: I usually still have two "tea times" at SITA... during both of which my hands grow a mind of their own, and the next thing I know, I'm sitting there with an empty mug with coffee dregs at the bottom. That's probably a bit of an exaggeration, but it has become habit to get coffee at these tea times. In all, I'm failing at laying off the caffeine.
Me? A Guinness book of world records contact? who knew? Well, let me tell you how I "earned" that title. It was Saturday, and I still had to finish my final paper for Environmental Issues. The SITA building had just closed for the day, and I was walking into my internet cafe of choice to finish it on a word document (there are three of them really close to SITA. The one that I like has very very nice people who talk to you and introduce you to family friends. The connection isn't great, and the other two are much faster, but I like the atmosphere, so I keep going back). As I walk in, I say hi to the two attendants, a married couple (arranged of course), who normally make small talk with me as I'm checking facebook or updating my fantasy basketball league (which I'm still getting pwned in). This time, I find an older gentleman with a huge manila folder filled with papers and documents talking to the woman. The woman introduces him as her uncle (which is another way of saying a good friend... that happens a lot here). I say "vannakam," (what you say when you first meet someone) bowing my head to show respect, and he does the same. Then, he tells me to sit down and that he has something to tell me. I figures, why not-- I have 8 hrs to write 3 pages of my EI paper. So I sit down. Well, I had no idea what I was getting into-- what I thought would be a friendly chat about why I was here or finding out what he does around Madurai turned out to be the most amusing generalization about Americans that I had heard while being here. As soon as I sat down, he started to explain that his nephew, a boy of 4 years old, was a special human being. I asked why. He told me that a year ago, March 10, 2008, his nephew of 4 years had, with a huge map of the world in front of him, named every single country in the world in a mere minute and forty nine seconds (which is incredible by any standard). How was this possible, I asked. Apparently the kid had an exceptional photographic memory, where he could jsut look at a map or a document and then memorize everything on it, much like Danny the Hasid in The Chosen. He then opened the folder he was carrying, and began to show me countless documents that confirmed this feat: Tamil newspaper articles, notary signatures of those that had experienced the feat, a dvd of his nephew doing the deed, editorials praising the Indian educational system, his nephew's report card at the best high school in Madurai (the report card had straight 100s in every single category). The evidence was beyond what it needed to be: I believed him, and I would be surprised if no one else did. As I continued to marvel at this accomplishment, I was still wondering why he was telling me all this-- so I asked him. This was his response: well you're American, and I've been trying to contact the Guinness book of world records for the past year; maybe you could send in a good word for me and my nephew... Well that was a little shocking. Apparently, in his mind, the fact that I was wearing a Manny Ramirez Red Sox shirt, had a modern looking REI backpack, and a water bottle holder (three things that obviously set me apart as an American) meant that I was best friends with the entire Guinness "judging staff". I told him that I had read the book, but had no clue how to do this-- I was just as in the dark as he was. He was a little disappointed but didn't let up. He then asked me to circulate this story to my friends within SITA, as if this accomplishment would somehow be more visible to Guinness if a bunch of Americans were astonished and impressed at such a feat. I felt sorry for the guy, but the whole scene was just too hard to not laugh: Me sitting there with a very shocked, resigned, impressed, and altogether incredulous face, and him sitting there almost begging me to give him my "infinite" wisdom of the world of entering a world record. I told him I would do my best (email them, look on the website... you know, things that I could actually do), but I wouldn't promise him anything... and that was that. He said thank you for listening and that he'd probably be back at a later date and that he hoped I could get in touch with them.
So, let's add yet another definition to the image of Americans in their minds in addition to the following (not a complete list; I just can't remember them all): We all know and love Obama! (which people shout to me once they know I'm from America-- one time I was riding in my cycle with a bunch of other SITA kids and an auto driver going the opposite direction leaned out the side of the rickshaw and yelled in a very long, drawn out, almost mockingly dramatic manner: OOOOOBBBAAAAAMAAAAAAA!!!! Priceless), that we want to buy postcards when we wont buy the weird things that street vendors sell on the streets (such as a "mint one of a kind mini chess board for only 100 rupees..." yeah right), that we can be ripped off easily, and that we all know the process of entering the Guinness book of world records.
The same day, Saturday, I experience a pretty large change in my home situation, literally. Apparently, the house that I had lived in for the last few months had been a "rented house" to stay in while the family's real house was being built only 100 meters away (the new house was in the same compound and was essentially the same exact house in a different location). That Saturday, the house was ready, and my family moved everything into that house. So when I got back to my "old" house after finishing my EI paper, my room was an empty rectangle, save the tornado of papers and books that I sloshed around while I was doing my finals. Somewhere in the confusion of moving all my stuff, I lost my purple flashlight (I know mom... I'm sad too)... oh well. Our new house is very similar to the old one architecturally-- except this time, I was blessed by the gods above by one of the best devices in the world.
The Butt Gun. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like: a gun for the butt. Before I had told you guys about the process of going to the bathroom, and how Indian sewer systems were not equipped to process toilet paper (and that you had to use water to clean your... ahem, business). Ordinarily you just use a small cup of water, your left hand (sometimes referred to as your "poo hand" by SITA students), and a ton of soap. Not so with the butt gun. For those that wash dishes, picture the "sprayer" that was typically found next to faucets during childhood (I haven't seen them recently-- essentially they are like a hose attachment with a little lever in the back to release the water). That's what the butt gun is, except it spurts the water out with much more force (and for good reason). If you put two and two together, you'll understand why I'm pretty excited about this piece of machinery-- cause I'm not gonna go that deep into detail (mainly because some of you are munching on buff chick calzones currently). Suffice it to say that it is quite a refreshing experience.
K, now to tour. We went to the neighboring state of Kerela, described as the "most beautiful state in India." I still maintain Hampi as the most beautiful place I know in India, but they certainly were telling the truth; Kerela was very very beautiful. To me, the two places represent two different types of beauty that our earth possesses. Hampi's beauty slaps you in the face; it is a lot more explicitly different, and therefore the beauty is a lot more surprising and yet rejuvenating-- it's a totally different world that not many people have ever experienced before, and as such it is much more of a surprising and astonishing type of beauty. Kerela's is a bit different. I would characterize Kerela as a whole as more of a refreshing beauty; more like "oh god, there are still places like you left in the world." Kerela contained both familiar types of beauty and unprecedented ones as well: rolling mountains of greenery (and tropical plants), a long and beautiful coastline, horizons upon horizons of lush green agriculture (including huge tea plantations upon the mountains in S. India-- pics to come don't worry). Kerela was a nice respite from massive amounts of work to the IS period.
We set off the Sunday after my Guinness fiasco in vans due west for the town of Thekkedy (located right along the boundary between the two most southern states in India: Tamil Nadu, where Madurai is, and Kerela). On the way to Thekkedy, we took the winding roads up the Western Ghats, my new favorite mountain range. Our van driver was a little nuts, going a little too fast around the bends, that made most of us pretty sick by the time we got off. Thankfully we stopped in a small town to have tea time to recenter ourselves (at which I, yet again, got coffee... I really am not doing too good with this whole anti-caffeine campaign). We reached Thekkedy, and straightway went to a spice plantation. Thekkedy is well known for three things: tea production, spice production, and the Periyar Tiger Wildlife Preserve (all of which we visited). We got a mini tour of the spice plantation, got to ride an elephant (which was definitely as cool as I imagined, although it wasn't as scary as I remember it was when I was 8... I can't remember where we were, but I do remember taking an elephant up a pretty large hill with a cliff on one side and a solid rock wall on the other side... for those that haven't been on an elephant it swings side to side while you're on top, so half the time I was either thinking we would eat it down the mountain or get stuck on the rock wall... good times), and met a family of farmers who were drying coffee beans on large mats outside of their hut. There were two really really cute girls, one about 3 and one 5, that followed us around. I said hi to them and managed to snap a pic of them. Hopefully I'll get my act together and get them up at some point... that's a big if tho.
After the spice garden and our elephant ride, a group of us went to dinner at a nearby hotel (hotels here almost always have a restaurant associated with them). Bad idea. Three problems: A) too hot inside, B) the food blew, and C) no dessert. Epic fail. But it did spark a good ending: we got some ice cream downtown, the best I've had since Maple View Farms outside of Carrboro (usually the ice cream here tastes like whipped cream but has the consistency of butter... this time it was different, thankfully). When we got back from our delightful dessert, we experienced something peculiar back at the hotel. We were walking up the stairs when a hotel attendant with a smoking metal cylinder (yes think Christian priest going down the aisle with that smoking cylinder during a mass) filled with incense flailed the metal object around our halls. Quite a way to freshen up a hotel hallway, but man did it smell good (like jasmine flowers dipped in honey... mmmmm)
The next day, we arose at 6:00 AM to take a 3 hour "safari walk" in the Periyar Wildlife Preserve. It was a very nice day-- a comfortable 75 degrees-- and very bright. It was such a nice walk; the sun on your shoulders and the morning mist spraying your face. I often closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of everything going on around me. Such a nice difference from the hustle and bustle of Madurai.I have some pics of this setting as well; it was very beautiful and captured a lot of the sights that I often saw during my time in Kerela-- when I get them up I'll tell you guys so you can see what I mean. We saw lots of monkeys, some bison, a few elephants, and a ton of rare birds. No tiger (sadly), but we did see a tree that had been scratched up by one (that counts right?). An interesting thing about this ecotourist site: all the guides that worked there once were tiger poachers just 10 years before (and have contributed to the tiger's endangered state in India as a whole). Good planning on the preserve's part.
After the reserve, we were let loose on the town for the day. The town of Thekkedy was nothing special. It was just as tourist oriented as Hampi town was, with tons of stores devoted to silk outfits and small handicrafts that you could find almost everywhere (but that shop owners insisted were indigenous to Thekkedy only... that seems to be a common sales tactic in India). I had a good time just browsing the shops, talking to random Indians as I passed, and exploring the town with other SITA members. At night, we went to a very good restaurant to make up for the shittyness that was the night before.
The next day we went to a tea plantation in the morning, where most environmentalists would cringe. On our way there, the hills were absolutely covered in tea plants-- or large bushes about 3 feet tall. It was all very green and pretty, but any environmentalist would look at that situation and say: god that run off must be ridiculous. And they would be right. There were huge gulleys down the sides of these tea plants where rain from the wet season (From Sept to Dec) had torn the land straight apart. I have pics of this also. All in due time.
We got back to the hotel, and then left for Kottayam, a layover city for our journey to Cochin. This is the journey in which I fell in love with the Ghats. The views I saw on that bus ride were like none I've ever seen in the Whites or the Blue Ridges (for all you out west, spare your Sierra Nevada and Rocky nationalism. I'll get out there eventually). I was only able to take a few pictures cause my memory card (which only held 49 pics at the time) was running out of room, and I was on the side of the bus that was most often facing the mountain side, and not the huge valleys and peaks of other mountains in the distance (I got a new camera, thankfully, so this won't be a problem in the future-- this time I didn't get lost). I wish I could describe the views or show you epic pictures, but alas, it was not destined to be so. Stay tuned for the Himalayas!!!!
I think I'm gonna stop here. It's a nice mid-point, and I've been writing for about 2 hrs now... maybe I should really take a class in shortening my details and my points, cause honestly sometimes its just plain exhausting. Anyway, I'll update you on my current status. Right now I'm in the middle of my Independent Study period, during which I need to get a shitload of interviews and literature material to eventually form a 25 page paper about the effect of land purchases by multinational corporations and other groups interested in land ownership on farmers outside of Madurai (yep, that means I'll be spending most my time inside of a village!!!! SO EXCITED-- stay tuned for pics. They're gonna be sweet, guaranteed). This wont be hard and I know it-- I am really interested in the topic and I know that when I start, I won't be able to stop... it's just starting it all that is the problem...
Until tomorrow (when I'll write the rest of tour and update my current status). Love and miss you all, and I wish you were here to experience this country with me-- it's one of those countries that truly changes your life in ways that you can't even imagine. Keep being beautiful people :-)
Hasan
Monday, February 23, 2009
India #5 (or is it 6? I dunno I can't remember): Tour Continued
Hello everyone,
Let's continue Hampi:
One thing I forgot to mention in the previous update: for lunch in Hampi after the ruins visits and the illegal pillar playing, everyone headed toward the internationally-renown restaurant the Mango Tree. What we didn't expect when we approached the restaurant: that we would walk 3 kms from the center of town and through a large banana plantation in order to get there. Literally we left the main road directly beside the river on a dirt path (following the directions of a large sign bearing "to the mango tree" on it... we weren't so skilled as to go this way on mere intuition), through someone's banana fields (bananas here are incredible: they're about half the size of the bananas we import from costa rica, are grown locally, and taste SO good. The taste begins like a regular banana, and then this wave of sweet and sour hits your mouth like there was a pineapple in the center. Local bananas definitely taste the best. Buy local!) and into a restaurant that, from the outset, looked like a shack. When you walked inside the shelter, the restaurant opened up to a panorama view of the river. The restaurant was on a hill, (it reminded me of Cafe Driade in Chapel Hill a lot, altho there were half as many mosquitoes, 10x more ground critters, and a much more appetizing view than the random forest behind it), and the tables were set on each landing, overlooking the river. Your "seats" were the ground, and your tables were much like footrests one would get while purchasing an easy chair at a furniture shop. The food was incredible. Best hummus, HANDS DOWN, that I've ever tasted outside of Israel. The felafel was beyond anything Beth-El ever imported. Given this long drawn out description of a random restaurant in Hampi, I have the following diagnosis as a student studying in India: First, go to Hampi, see the ruins, and experience yourself on a different planet. Then, go to the Mango Tree, at least thrice during your stay. You will not regret it.
The following pic was taken at the Mango Tree. The one after it was us walking along the dirt path to get there:
K, back to what I was originally gonna say in this post: The second day we spent in Hampi has been one of my most favorite times here thus far, barely beating out Jain Hill and the large naked man (the latter two were in contention because of the incredible views... Hampi luckily had them all over the place). We took an auto rikshaw to Hampi from Hospet, underwent planetary transformation once again (see previous post), and arrived on the main street in Hampi. We set off for a small rooftop restaurant (with shade, of course), and ate a very western breakfast. I got french toast, eggs, and filter coffee (aka- espresso, something that you never get here... normally the coffee I drink in Madurai is made from Nescafe mix). There were 10 of us, but only one cook/server/attendent. As such, the breakfast took about 2 hours in total. I kind of felt bad. It got to a point where the guy had to send a kid to a local store to get more supplies just to make our breakfast. Needless to say, we tipped him pretty heavily... He put a lot more into a western breakfast than anyone I've ever known. Pluswhich, the breakfast far outclassed Colby dining services. #4 dining-service-among-all-colleges-in-the-nation fail!
After breakfast we saw that directly next to the restaurant was a cycle rental place. Because we had the full day to do whatever we wanted, we figured, what the hell-- let's work for our enjoyment of the one of the world's most beautiful places. So, for 50 rupees each (only one buck) for a days worth of cycling, we set off across the river for the great unknown. Crossing the river was quite an experience. The only way to cross the river was a rickety wooden motor boat, driven by a very large guy in a straw hat (this was the first time I ever saw an Indian wearing a hat... despite the ridiculous amount of light we endure on a daily basis, somehow being Indian equips you with the ability to see very easily without a hat. Personally, I have to squint for the majority of the day, looking like I'm trying to focus in on something 2 kms down the road, when I'm actually trying to avoid the divet in the road that is a mere 3 feet in front of my cycle). Getting a cycle over the river was an interesting ordeal: you put the cycle on the back of the boat, which is elevated about 3 feet over the water, and balance yourself ON the cycle while a very rocky motor boat scuttles across the river. Thankfully I avoided falling in. A fun part of going across the river: while you're doing so, men who are standing on a nearby rock do cannonballs that often splash you with cool water (something that felt great amidst the 100 degree day... despite the fact that it almost touched my camera... if it had, shit would have gone down).
We reached the other side, and instantly the Indian paparazzi attacked us. Autos asking us "hanuman temple? lake? lake? lake? only 200 rupees there and back!" (only is such an understatement, the lake was like 3 kms away... you usually pay around 50 rupees for a trip like that around Madurai. Unfortunately because autos are often the only way to get to the lake for many tourists, they can rip you off and get away with it). We cycled by them, and headed toward the lake. The other side was beautiful. As you rode down the road leading to the lake, to your left stood small quaint restaurants and guest houses that surprisingly held a large number of Israelis (Hampi's a lovely Israeli hotspot...); to your right lay incredibly green rice patty fields with the rocky mountains jutting up behind it. Here's a pic to give you a better idea:
The drive to the lake was incredible. Words can't describe the landscape. It was literally the most intense green I've seen anywhere on Earth. I'll leave it at that. Swimming in the lake was much like swimming in the abandoned quarry just outside Chapel Hill. Very rocky, yet somehow very clean water. The lake was huge-- think Walden Pond size. If that doesn't make any sense, think Colby lake X100. It was a nice thing to go swimming. It was the first time I had been since I took a very very cold dip in a natural 40 degree pool near the White Mountains in western Maine last sumer (for all those not there, yes, I did scream and howl when I got in, and continued until I got outside). This time, however, the water was much nicer, and a lot warmer, thankfully.
We ate pita, humus, fries, and Israeli salad by the lakeside. One of the more relaxing meals I've ever had. I was suddenly brought back to those picnics I had with my mom and bro at Walden Pond when I lived in Boston (never failing to have a large bag of Kettle Chips with us... of which I ate at least half each time). After failing at the butterfly stroke, walking on water (with the help of a deceptively shallow rock), and finding out a guy's life deal (who was playing a noisy annoying instrument just across the way from our little base by the side of the lake), it was about 5 pm. The last boat across the river was at 6, so we had to hurry. We got back across, took a bus back to Hospet. I know I did a pretty crappy job of describing the epic day, making it sound not really that epic... oh well...
The day after, we took a sunrise hike up a hill beside Hampi, experienced a very orange sunrise (with the Indian haze fully visible... unfortunately :-/), and then left Hospet for Bangalore via overnight train. We checked into the hotel and then started to walk around. As soon as I walked in, I felt empty and had no idea why. Later I would find out that I had left my Colby College Dazzlin' Asses frisbee on the train from Hospet. I held a minor memorial ceremony for it in the hotel room, got over it (barely... I kept thinking how disappointed Lewis would be if I didn't actually teach street boys to play frisbee, ultimately becoming the olympic team for India in 25 years. Alas! It was not meant to be), and started to explore Bangalore. For those who have not been, Bangalore is one of the most developed cities in the south. With that in mind, picture the following scene as I looked down the road: A Ruby Tuesday's just across the street from a 3 story Levi's outlet store, Bars wherever the eye could see (one of which we went into for a beer... then swiftly exited. If you could ever put a spaceship into a room with no windows, this bar would be it. The bar was a sparkly silver; the bartender was dressed like an 80s Michael Jackson straight out of his Thriller music video. The space around the bar was huge, but it was compartmentalized into five different rooms, all separated by glass windows. On the radio was a remix of the popular song "Wagon Wheel". Upon entering, all of us looked at each other, assessed the scene in front of us, and then fled the scene as fast as a walk could take us. I was scarred for life), and thousands of Indians dressed in the latest western fashion. If I had just landed in downtown New York, and if New Yorkians were further south (so that people would tan easier), I wouldn't have known the difference. Mom was right: this was just another Western hole that tourists fall into. I managed to find a restaurant that served Tali meals (for freaking 80 rupees-- normally it's like 35), went back to the hotel, and fell asleep until our overnight train back to Madurai.
Tour was nice, but it was extremely nice to be back and away from the group for a while. We literally spent every single day together for a full week, and I was personally desperately needing alone time. When I got back to my host family's house, I spent some time pestering my 8 yr old host sister, playing football with my brother, and talking about random things with my host mother. Since I got back from tour, I have really come to value my host family so much. My host mother is a truly incredible person, and I have had many very penetrating and personal conversations with her, to the point that I actually felt more like her son than some random kid who she houses for money (they receive a lot of money from SITA for helping us out). In addition, I have become a brother to my siblings, someone they look up to. My host sister, who is barred from touching any person of the opposite sex if it isn't a guy her own age or a sibling as commanded by the caste system/society as a whole, and I have broken that barrier (k, that sounds wrong, I know, let me explain: physical love among members of a similar family does not happen very often at all. Hugging here is not something you do; in fact it's kind of hillarious to see how each Indian reacts to a hug-- some freeze and don't touch back at all, which makes for an awkward ordeal. Others just receive it, laugh and then return it cautiously. To emphasize, I have never once seen my host parents hug one of their children, let alone each other. Over the past few weeks, my host siblings have hugged me many times, a "physical" sign that I have become an integral part of the family as a son/sibling. YAY! :-)). My host brother is someone I wish I was when I was 13: smooth talking, one of the smartest in his grade, and VERY funny. I wish I could describe to you how many times I've spent my afternoon laughing with him, but words wouldn't do it justice I feel. Anyways, my life at home is awesome :-).
I started my "experience culture" part of the SITA program (which is weird... isn't being here a cultural excursion in itself?). Just to be predictable, I decided to take Karnataka Vocals. I had my first class 3 weeks ago, and I CAN"T get enough of it! Kevin would really hate the way we learn: everything is by ear, no sheet music or anything. To me, a dwindling sight reader, it is the perfect way to learn. The way that Karnatak music is charted out is through a syllable system (much like do, re, mi; except the scale goes like this: sa, ri, ga, ma, pa, da, ni, sa). Time is kept by beating with your hand on your knee. Time is charted out using vertical dashes and double verticle dashes, the former showing the first half of a phrase, and the latter for the phrase's finish. When I get back to the states, I'll sing some stuff for you guys-- the scales that you learn are truly remarkable, and if you happen to be interested, I can teach you how to do some of the stuff I'm doing as well!
On the cooking front, I have now learned how to make the following things: Sambar (a sauce you put on rice or eat with Dosai-- the rice/lentil pancake I've mentioned before), Dosai, Iddili (steamed dosai batter-- are like half moon cookies in shape, but couldn't be further from it in taste), 4 different types of chutney, and Ochre masala. When I get back to Colby in the fall, I'm definitely going to prepare a feast. Perhaps we could organize a form of community dinner-- OMG Thanksgiving dinner S. Indian style? PLEASE?! Sorry for being so excited, but the food here is sooo good (and full of spices and goodies-- spices in a not hot manner, like in a DELICIOUS manner). Anyways, Next on my agenda: Rasam, beet root masala, Addai.
I also forgot to tell you guys about my daily routine: each morning I get up at around 6:30 (yes guys, I actually WILLINGLY get up at 6:30!!! it feels great-- Steven Tatko, I now know why you do it so often :-)), take a bucket shower, do some last minute work, work out a bit, drink coffee, eat delicious food, and then cycle to the SITA center against the early morning traffic at 8:00 (haven't had any incident since that initial auto rikshaw scare... altho I have almost gone barreling into a bus on numerous occasions). At SITA, I always start my day with a healthy dose of an hour and a half of tamil, then have coffee, then go to my nxt class, eat lunch, nxt. class, coffee again (which is why I'm addicted now... which I really don't like!), next class, then I often go home at around 5:30 to play random games with my host siblings and the neighbors (WHICH I"M DEFINITELY TEACHING YOU GUYS WHEN I GET HOME OR BUST). Two day ago I introduced four square to them. That's their current obsession. If I don't have a class during a period (I only tke 4/7 classes they offer here), I either explore the area by cycle, do work (which is what I've been doing lately, which I hate...), or go update you guys in the nearby internet cafe (which is still like .30 cents an hour :-)). After play time, I eat dinner, usually do homework, watch a tv program in tamil with my family, and then start getting ready for bed.
Here's where it gets interesting. Mosquitoes here are INTENSE. They usually come out at two times en masse: dawn and dusk. When either of these two times set in, all windows and doors to the outside are closed, though lots of them still get in (somehow, I'm still trying to find that hidden crook...). So every night before I go to bed, there are around 10-15 mosquitoes chillin in my room, waiting to eat me alive while I sleep. Well, unfortunately for them, I don't like to get bitten. As such, among my nightly rituals is the following pencilled in item: Mosquito slaughter. That's right, I kill as many as I can and then sleep happier and with less bites on my person, which frankly, I can deal with. It sometimes takes up to 30 minutes to corner most of them, and often I just let one fly around while I go to sleep, but if I didn't do that, I would get close to no sleep. Laugh if you must, at the image of me running around my room with my two hands a foot away from each other chasing a flying being that is merely 2 cm long. It's good exercise anyway, and certainly gets me tired enough to just drop into bed and sleep through the night.
I was unaware, however, that dead mosquitoes attract ants. I realized this a little bit too late... and now I have an ant sanctuary and a mosquito morgue as a room. Fortunately, the cycle of life evens itself out. Personally I have no problem with ants. They actually are really fun to watch as a break between theoretical readings about the socio-political situation in southern India. The way they cooperate to transport food from the trash can in my room or stray food in the kitchen just across the hall from my room is quite miraculous. I once experienced a banana peel being brought from the kitchen, under the door, and up to the window sill. Unfortunately ants lack depth perception, and thus realized that it was quite impossible to get the banana peel outside the small 1 cm crack in the window. At this point they needed human intervention, so I opened the window and nudged it out the window. I would hesitate to call it beautiful, and a lot of you are probably going "why am I reading about Hasan's current obsession with the ants he feeds." Suffice it to say that ants are an integral part of my night-- the large ant march through my room to the kitchen is an ongoing obstacle that I must be aware of as I walk up and down my room.
As bad as it sounds, I've been benefitting from the underground movie trade quite a lot. To emphasize, I got 12 movies the other day for 120 rupees. That's a steal. 2 dollars and 10 cents for 12 movies that would cost at LEAST 120 dollars int he states. Not even Wal-Mart can top the Meenakshi Bazaar prices just outside the Meenakshi temple. There is one danger: all the movies are burnt onto CDs, and a lot of them don't work at all. I'm gonna stock up on movies that I've always wanted here, so an added bonus for next year: I'll be better stalked than the secret stash!
Other than that, I've been slowly trying to lay off the coffee (i've been trying chocolate milk-- my host fam calls it boost-- at home instead of caffinating myself), writing continually, and reading a lot of articles for this upcoming week from hell (4 essays, one interview with a person who doesn't speak english, and one test... good luck me!). Good news: after Friday it'll all be over, and our second tour to Kerela, the neighboring state to the west, starts this coming Sunday.
Since Annie Roos demanded an update on my current status: I am very happy here in India. Every experience I have here continues an ongoing growing experience that began when I was last here in 1996, and I am enjoying every moment of it. If you've made it this far down this update, I congratulate you. This was a bulky one, but it had to be updated at some point. Stay tuned before tour for other random things about Madurai and about SITA as a whole :-)
I love and miss every single one of you (even you Hazel, even though you can't really speak English... though given your past of hopping onto table tops, I wouldn't be surprised if you had started to peek on one of my emails that my mom reads), and I hope everything is going well on your end. Update me as always and I'll see you on the flip side.
Hasan Bhatti, Certified Indian Cycler
Let's continue Hampi:
One thing I forgot to mention in the previous update: for lunch in Hampi after the ruins visits and the illegal pillar playing, everyone headed toward the internationally-renown restaurant the Mango Tree. What we didn't expect when we approached the restaurant: that we would walk 3 kms from the center of town and through a large banana plantation in order to get there. Literally we left the main road directly beside the river on a dirt path (following the directions of a large sign bearing "to the mango tree" on it... we weren't so skilled as to go this way on mere intuition), through someone's banana fields (bananas here are incredible: they're about half the size of the bananas we import from costa rica, are grown locally, and taste SO good. The taste begins like a regular banana, and then this wave of sweet and sour hits your mouth like there was a pineapple in the center. Local bananas definitely taste the best. Buy local!) and into a restaurant that, from the outset, looked like a shack. When you walked inside the shelter, the restaurant opened up to a panorama view of the river. The restaurant was on a hill, (it reminded me of Cafe Driade in Chapel Hill a lot, altho there were half as many mosquitoes, 10x more ground critters, and a much more appetizing view than the random forest behind it), and the tables were set on each landing, overlooking the river. Your "seats" were the ground, and your tables were much like footrests one would get while purchasing an easy chair at a furniture shop. The food was incredible. Best hummus, HANDS DOWN, that I've ever tasted outside of Israel. The felafel was beyond anything Beth-El ever imported. Given this long drawn out description of a random restaurant in Hampi, I have the following diagnosis as a student studying in India: First, go to Hampi, see the ruins, and experience yourself on a different planet. Then, go to the Mango Tree, at least thrice during your stay. You will not regret it.
The following pic was taken at the Mango Tree. The one after it was us walking along the dirt path to get there:
K, back to what I was originally gonna say in this post: The second day we spent in Hampi has been one of my most favorite times here thus far, barely beating out Jain Hill and the large naked man (the latter two were in contention because of the incredible views... Hampi luckily had them all over the place). We took an auto rikshaw to Hampi from Hospet, underwent planetary transformation once again (see previous post), and arrived on the main street in Hampi. We set off for a small rooftop restaurant (with shade, of course), and ate a very western breakfast. I got french toast, eggs, and filter coffee (aka- espresso, something that you never get here... normally the coffee I drink in Madurai is made from Nescafe mix). There were 10 of us, but only one cook/server/attendent. As such, the breakfast took about 2 hours in total. I kind of felt bad. It got to a point where the guy had to send a kid to a local store to get more supplies just to make our breakfast. Needless to say, we tipped him pretty heavily... He put a lot more into a western breakfast than anyone I've ever known. Pluswhich, the breakfast far outclassed Colby dining services. #4 dining-service-among-all-colleges-in-the-nation fail!
After breakfast we saw that directly next to the restaurant was a cycle rental place. Because we had the full day to do whatever we wanted, we figured, what the hell-- let's work for our enjoyment of the one of the world's most beautiful places. So, for 50 rupees each (only one buck) for a days worth of cycling, we set off across the river for the great unknown. Crossing the river was quite an experience. The only way to cross the river was a rickety wooden motor boat, driven by a very large guy in a straw hat (this was the first time I ever saw an Indian wearing a hat... despite the ridiculous amount of light we endure on a daily basis, somehow being Indian equips you with the ability to see very easily without a hat. Personally, I have to squint for the majority of the day, looking like I'm trying to focus in on something 2 kms down the road, when I'm actually trying to avoid the divet in the road that is a mere 3 feet in front of my cycle). Getting a cycle over the river was an interesting ordeal: you put the cycle on the back of the boat, which is elevated about 3 feet over the water, and balance yourself ON the cycle while a very rocky motor boat scuttles across the river. Thankfully I avoided falling in. A fun part of going across the river: while you're doing so, men who are standing on a nearby rock do cannonballs that often splash you with cool water (something that felt great amidst the 100 degree day... despite the fact that it almost touched my camera... if it had, shit would have gone down).
We reached the other side, and instantly the Indian paparazzi attacked us. Autos asking us "hanuman temple? lake? lake? lake? only 200 rupees there and back!" (only is such an understatement, the lake was like 3 kms away... you usually pay around 50 rupees for a trip like that around Madurai. Unfortunately because autos are often the only way to get to the lake for many tourists, they can rip you off and get away with it). We cycled by them, and headed toward the lake. The other side was beautiful. As you rode down the road leading to the lake, to your left stood small quaint restaurants and guest houses that surprisingly held a large number of Israelis (Hampi's a lovely Israeli hotspot...); to your right lay incredibly green rice patty fields with the rocky mountains jutting up behind it. Here's a pic to give you a better idea:
The drive to the lake was incredible. Words can't describe the landscape. It was literally the most intense green I've seen anywhere on Earth. I'll leave it at that. Swimming in the lake was much like swimming in the abandoned quarry just outside Chapel Hill. Very rocky, yet somehow very clean water. The lake was huge-- think Walden Pond size. If that doesn't make any sense, think Colby lake X100. It was a nice thing to go swimming. It was the first time I had been since I took a very very cold dip in a natural 40 degree pool near the White Mountains in western Maine last sumer (for all those not there, yes, I did scream and howl when I got in, and continued until I got outside). This time, however, the water was much nicer, and a lot warmer, thankfully.
We ate pita, humus, fries, and Israeli salad by the lakeside. One of the more relaxing meals I've ever had. I was suddenly brought back to those picnics I had with my mom and bro at Walden Pond when I lived in Boston (never failing to have a large bag of Kettle Chips with us... of which I ate at least half each time). After failing at the butterfly stroke, walking on water (with the help of a deceptively shallow rock), and finding out a guy's life deal (who was playing a noisy annoying instrument just across the way from our little base by the side of the lake), it was about 5 pm. The last boat across the river was at 6, so we had to hurry. We got back across, took a bus back to Hospet. I know I did a pretty crappy job of describing the epic day, making it sound not really that epic... oh well...
The day after, we took a sunrise hike up a hill beside Hampi, experienced a very orange sunrise (with the Indian haze fully visible... unfortunately :-/), and then left Hospet for Bangalore via overnight train. We checked into the hotel and then started to walk around. As soon as I walked in, I felt empty and had no idea why. Later I would find out that I had left my Colby College Dazzlin' Asses frisbee on the train from Hospet. I held a minor memorial ceremony for it in the hotel room, got over it (barely... I kept thinking how disappointed Lewis would be if I didn't actually teach street boys to play frisbee, ultimately becoming the olympic team for India in 25 years. Alas! It was not meant to be), and started to explore Bangalore. For those who have not been, Bangalore is one of the most developed cities in the south. With that in mind, picture the following scene as I looked down the road: A Ruby Tuesday's just across the street from a 3 story Levi's outlet store, Bars wherever the eye could see (one of which we went into for a beer... then swiftly exited. If you could ever put a spaceship into a room with no windows, this bar would be it. The bar was a sparkly silver; the bartender was dressed like an 80s Michael Jackson straight out of his Thriller music video. The space around the bar was huge, but it was compartmentalized into five different rooms, all separated by glass windows. On the radio was a remix of the popular song "Wagon Wheel". Upon entering, all of us looked at each other, assessed the scene in front of us, and then fled the scene as fast as a walk could take us. I was scarred for life), and thousands of Indians dressed in the latest western fashion. If I had just landed in downtown New York, and if New Yorkians were further south (so that people would tan easier), I wouldn't have known the difference. Mom was right: this was just another Western hole that tourists fall into. I managed to find a restaurant that served Tali meals (for freaking 80 rupees-- normally it's like 35), went back to the hotel, and fell asleep until our overnight train back to Madurai.
Tour was nice, but it was extremely nice to be back and away from the group for a while. We literally spent every single day together for a full week, and I was personally desperately needing alone time. When I got back to my host family's house, I spent some time pestering my 8 yr old host sister, playing football with my brother, and talking about random things with my host mother. Since I got back from tour, I have really come to value my host family so much. My host mother is a truly incredible person, and I have had many very penetrating and personal conversations with her, to the point that I actually felt more like her son than some random kid who she houses for money (they receive a lot of money from SITA for helping us out). In addition, I have become a brother to my siblings, someone they look up to. My host sister, who is barred from touching any person of the opposite sex if it isn't a guy her own age or a sibling as commanded by the caste system/society as a whole, and I have broken that barrier (k, that sounds wrong, I know, let me explain: physical love among members of a similar family does not happen very often at all. Hugging here is not something you do; in fact it's kind of hillarious to see how each Indian reacts to a hug-- some freeze and don't touch back at all, which makes for an awkward ordeal. Others just receive it, laugh and then return it cautiously. To emphasize, I have never once seen my host parents hug one of their children, let alone each other. Over the past few weeks, my host siblings have hugged me many times, a "physical" sign that I have become an integral part of the family as a son/sibling. YAY! :-)). My host brother is someone I wish I was when I was 13: smooth talking, one of the smartest in his grade, and VERY funny. I wish I could describe to you how many times I've spent my afternoon laughing with him, but words wouldn't do it justice I feel. Anyways, my life at home is awesome :-).
I started my "experience culture" part of the SITA program (which is weird... isn't being here a cultural excursion in itself?). Just to be predictable, I decided to take Karnataka Vocals. I had my first class 3 weeks ago, and I CAN"T get enough of it! Kevin would really hate the way we learn: everything is by ear, no sheet music or anything. To me, a dwindling sight reader, it is the perfect way to learn. The way that Karnatak music is charted out is through a syllable system (much like do, re, mi; except the scale goes like this: sa, ri, ga, ma, pa, da, ni, sa). Time is kept by beating with your hand on your knee. Time is charted out using vertical dashes and double verticle dashes, the former showing the first half of a phrase, and the latter for the phrase's finish. When I get back to the states, I'll sing some stuff for you guys-- the scales that you learn are truly remarkable, and if you happen to be interested, I can teach you how to do some of the stuff I'm doing as well!
On the cooking front, I have now learned how to make the following things: Sambar (a sauce you put on rice or eat with Dosai-- the rice/lentil pancake I've mentioned before), Dosai, Iddili (steamed dosai batter-- are like half moon cookies in shape, but couldn't be further from it in taste), 4 different types of chutney, and Ochre masala. When I get back to Colby in the fall, I'm definitely going to prepare a feast. Perhaps we could organize a form of community dinner-- OMG Thanksgiving dinner S. Indian style? PLEASE?! Sorry for being so excited, but the food here is sooo good (and full of spices and goodies-- spices in a not hot manner, like in a DELICIOUS manner). Anyways, Next on my agenda: Rasam, beet root masala, Addai.
I also forgot to tell you guys about my daily routine: each morning I get up at around 6:30 (yes guys, I actually WILLINGLY get up at 6:30!!! it feels great-- Steven Tatko, I now know why you do it so often :-)), take a bucket shower, do some last minute work, work out a bit, drink coffee, eat delicious food, and then cycle to the SITA center against the early morning traffic at 8:00 (haven't had any incident since that initial auto rikshaw scare... altho I have almost gone barreling into a bus on numerous occasions). At SITA, I always start my day with a healthy dose of an hour and a half of tamil, then have coffee, then go to my nxt class, eat lunch, nxt. class, coffee again (which is why I'm addicted now... which I really don't like!), next class, then I often go home at around 5:30 to play random games with my host siblings and the neighbors (WHICH I"M DEFINITELY TEACHING YOU GUYS WHEN I GET HOME OR BUST). Two day ago I introduced four square to them. That's their current obsession. If I don't have a class during a period (I only tke 4/7 classes they offer here), I either explore the area by cycle, do work (which is what I've been doing lately, which I hate...), or go update you guys in the nearby internet cafe (which is still like .30 cents an hour :-)). After play time, I eat dinner, usually do homework, watch a tv program in tamil with my family, and then start getting ready for bed.
Here's where it gets interesting. Mosquitoes here are INTENSE. They usually come out at two times en masse: dawn and dusk. When either of these two times set in, all windows and doors to the outside are closed, though lots of them still get in (somehow, I'm still trying to find that hidden crook...). So every night before I go to bed, there are around 10-15 mosquitoes chillin in my room, waiting to eat me alive while I sleep. Well, unfortunately for them, I don't like to get bitten. As such, among my nightly rituals is the following pencilled in item: Mosquito slaughter. That's right, I kill as many as I can and then sleep happier and with less bites on my person, which frankly, I can deal with. It sometimes takes up to 30 minutes to corner most of them, and often I just let one fly around while I go to sleep, but if I didn't do that, I would get close to no sleep. Laugh if you must, at the image of me running around my room with my two hands a foot away from each other chasing a flying being that is merely 2 cm long. It's good exercise anyway, and certainly gets me tired enough to just drop into bed and sleep through the night.
I was unaware, however, that dead mosquitoes attract ants. I realized this a little bit too late... and now I have an ant sanctuary and a mosquito morgue as a room. Fortunately, the cycle of life evens itself out. Personally I have no problem with ants. They actually are really fun to watch as a break between theoretical readings about the socio-political situation in southern India. The way they cooperate to transport food from the trash can in my room or stray food in the kitchen just across the hall from my room is quite miraculous. I once experienced a banana peel being brought from the kitchen, under the door, and up to the window sill. Unfortunately ants lack depth perception, and thus realized that it was quite impossible to get the banana peel outside the small 1 cm crack in the window. At this point they needed human intervention, so I opened the window and nudged it out the window. I would hesitate to call it beautiful, and a lot of you are probably going "why am I reading about Hasan's current obsession with the ants he feeds." Suffice it to say that ants are an integral part of my night-- the large ant march through my room to the kitchen is an ongoing obstacle that I must be aware of as I walk up and down my room.
As bad as it sounds, I've been benefitting from the underground movie trade quite a lot. To emphasize, I got 12 movies the other day for 120 rupees. That's a steal. 2 dollars and 10 cents for 12 movies that would cost at LEAST 120 dollars int he states. Not even Wal-Mart can top the Meenakshi Bazaar prices just outside the Meenakshi temple. There is one danger: all the movies are burnt onto CDs, and a lot of them don't work at all. I'm gonna stock up on movies that I've always wanted here, so an added bonus for next year: I'll be better stalked than the secret stash!
Other than that, I've been slowly trying to lay off the coffee (i've been trying chocolate milk-- my host fam calls it boost-- at home instead of caffinating myself), writing continually, and reading a lot of articles for this upcoming week from hell (4 essays, one interview with a person who doesn't speak english, and one test... good luck me!). Good news: after Friday it'll all be over, and our second tour to Kerela, the neighboring state to the west, starts this coming Sunday.
Since Annie Roos demanded an update on my current status: I am very happy here in India. Every experience I have here continues an ongoing growing experience that began when I was last here in 1996, and I am enjoying every moment of it. If you've made it this far down this update, I congratulate you. This was a bulky one, but it had to be updated at some point. Stay tuned before tour for other random things about Madurai and about SITA as a whole :-)
I love and miss every single one of you (even you Hazel, even though you can't really speak English... though given your past of hopping onto table tops, I wouldn't be surprised if you had started to peek on one of my emails that my mom reads), and I hope everything is going well on your end. Update me as always and I'll see you on the flip side.
Hasan Bhatti, Certified Indian Cycler
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
India #4: Hampi, The Most Beautiful Place in the...
World.
In the whole wide world.
Yeah.
Hello everyone,
Let's take a small step back. et me recap as fast as I can my travels in the neighboring state of Karnataka (NW of Madurai). It's probably going to be split into two posts (cause I need to do a ton of work desperately today-- seriously SITA? Why would you bog me down with work when I'm trying to love to India... figuratively...). I think Mysore and the first half of Hampi will be today. Friday I'll write the other half.
We left Madurai on an overnight train headed for Mysore three Saturdays ago (it really has been a long time since I've updated). The overnight train experience was quite that: an experience. We were seated in an AC three tier car that had no compartments, meaning we had to lock our bags and hope they didn't get stolen in the middle of the night. This was my first three tier train trip that I have ever taken (mom can correct that insignificant fact if she so chooses). Three tier essentially means that there are three beds on each side of a compartment (one is the seat you sit on, one you have to chain into place-- don't worry, the chains are quite sturdy... I think Shaq might be pushing it-- and the last one is kind of like the top of a bunk bed without a bunk-- chained to the ceiling). So that would mean there were six people in each compartment. When we finally set up the beds and got down to sleeping, I found it surprisingly cozy, and fell asleep within seconds of hitting the "mattress". I have snippets of being on two tier trains when I hardly slept at all traveling from Varanasi to Delhi to Jaipur (all three of which are in the north) engrained in my memory, so the fact that I fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed (and laid down the sheets that had housed about a billion people before me... yeah, it was not a very sanitary exp. The first thing I did when I got to Mysore was take a 20 minute shower) was quite surprising. I was just about to chomp on a massive ice cream sundae that my mom had bought for me from a horse vendor (don't ask me, it was a dream) when at 2:00 am, my dreamy euphoria came to a screeching halt. A man, cursed be his soul, decided to answer his cell phone and SCREAM into it. I am not exaggerating. the man screamed into that technological communicative device as if he expected people on the moon to hear him before the person on the receiver end... I almost got up and gave him a swift kick in the nuts with my left foot-- the foot that is considered the most unholy of all limb parts in Tamil... fortunately the PA got to him before I did and he shut up. *Sigh* my bad luck on overnight trains continued.
After a very very long bumpy ride, we reached Mysore. We all stumbled into jeeps the size of safari rangers and were lugged to the hotel at which we would stay for the next three days. After a long shower, me and the three other guys on the group started to explore the area. As soon as we walked out of the hotel door we were instantly bombarded by street vendors and auto rickshaw drivers, or as I like to call it, the Indian Papa Razzi. While we waded through the crowd, a man by the name of Joseph (or so he convinced me) started to talk to us. He told us that he worked in a coffee shop just up the road, and somehow convinced us that there was a "sunday only market" near his shop. We figured why not-- let's go see a market. We set off towards the market. As we walked, I began to notice many many differences from Madurai. For one, people actually used the sidewalks (yeah Sakshi, I'm shocked too). Second, the streets were extremely clean, even though I did manage to experience a cow repaving the road with natural excrement (which was then herded off by angry policemen). There were no trash piles or dust ranges anywhere. Third, there were POLICEMEN directing traffic (at stoplights... see stoplights here are more like guidelines... really, so people need an authoritative figure to keep them in check). I could go on and on with the differences. Suffice it to say that Mysore is much more "developed" than Madurai.
Anyway, I began to talk with Joseph; what a character. He had a black pinstriped nike hat with a steve tatko-like collared shirt, bellbottom pants, and a very Jay-Z like swagger. I began to ask him about his life-- he was 23 years old, just out of a local indian college. Throughout our convo about random things such as Obama, English TV and Indian auto rickshaws, he would continually ask me if I would like some hash or marijuana, never failing to add to his offer the following saying: "In Mysore we drink till we die, smoke till we fly... no woman no cry" (which STILL makes no sense to me). I declined him about 19 times before he decided I was a prude. Possessing drugs is illegal in India like in the US, and I would also get kicked off my program for even possessing them... so no dice (Joseph swore that it was legal in Mysore... then again, Joseph swore a lot of things). That on top of the fact that I actually don't really have any need for it. After an awkward 20 minutes to the market, he brought us inside. It was so colorful here; I was in love (not that I hadn't been this whole time here). "this isn't even the big market downtown" Joseph said. As we walked between onion baskets and tea stalls serving coffee in tall beer-like glasses, Joseph ushered us into a man's house. Joseph then bid us adieu, and a man came in and gave us a full run down of the perfume situation in Mysore. and I mean run down: the man had papers explaining each of his magical sensory potions, most of which smelled incredible. We also got to see a woman actually roll incense onto an incense stick that would eventually be sold on the street 3 hours later (side note: there was an incense called "Musk". The description, verbatim: meant to bring the inner aphrodisiac in you. Known to attract females and provide many, ahem, benefits...). After his presentation, he insisted that we buy some. I felt bad not doing it, since we would have just wasted 20 minutes of his life if we hadn't bought anything. I bought one called "lotus" which kind of smelled like Curve cologne back at home (it is supposed to "calm the senses" and "relieve stress" which are always good things). After exiting, we headed back to the hotel area to an Andhara restaurant. Hands downt he best sambar, rasam, and veg meal I've ever had. If you ever manage to make it to Mysore (which is definitely worth a two day stay), go to Hotel RRR (hotel can be used to describe a restaurant here in addition to a hotel). Be advised, those with very low spice tolerances (cough, Emma, cough) must temper the flavor explosion with a bit of curd (which is also provided).
That night, we went to the Mysore Palace. Incredible architecture-- there was a hall that would provide pretty hefty competition to the ball room in Disney's Beauty and the Beast. I'll let pictures tell this architectural story-- aka, click the link above. All I'll say is that the compound was ENORMOUS (like 10 acres of stone, marble, and murals). Beautiful place.
That night, I had my first legal drink in India. A Kingfisher 650 ml light brown beer. Not great, but it rekindled memories of the days of toasting miller high life with Kevin after being plunked on. Sentimental value is all that matters when it comes to booze anyway, I feel.
The next day we visited the "second tallest monolithic (aka, carved out of a single rock) statue in the world" located about an hour and a half away from Mysore. It was a jain man. He stood at 17.5 meters tall, blaringly stark naked (schlong included). In a way, it was beautiful yet also disturbing. He was situated on a large hill, only accessible by a 600 step staircase carved into the hill (hills here are mostly giant stones that randomly jut out from the relatively flat horizon). The site was one of the more holy places for those practicing the Jain religion, housing two temples, one of which was this massive naked man's dwelling place. As we walked up the stone mountain, I saw a number of carvings in Karnatak (the language in Karnatak) that had been left there by Jains who had visited the sites in the past. I don't know the exact date it was erected (poor word choice I know), but a guy at the bottom told me in broken english "it's, you know, abuh abuh (the South Indian "um") ooooollllddd." The view was to die for. Again I should probably let pictures do the talking here. I do have a story. When we got to the top, me and Mark climbed a hidden ladder (made of bamboo, so you knew it was illegal) to a landing that showed the backside of the huge statue (the backside was huge, in tail-- see pics when I get them up). Behind the statue was open landscape for miles and miles on end. Pics will elucidate this part of the story. Eventually police guys caught on and started to yell at us to get down. You only live once!
We climbed down the hill, ate lunch, went back to mysore, got more papa razzi attention, and then decided to climb the huge hill just outside Mysore This hill, housed 1000 steps. I got a work out, my limbs were sore, but I did it. At the top, the view was very disappointing: haze from the city made it impossible to see more than a few miles. We did experience social injustice. A young monkey had gotten a hold of a batch of bananas, and was about to eat them when a huge mammoth of a monkey attacked the young one and ate all the bananas IN FRONT OF THE LITTLE GUY. We all stood there cursing the fat monkey for being a horrible monkey being. It was a good bonding experience.
We were free for most of the next day. Me and a couple of people went to the Mysore market. It was huge, colorful, and by god I would argue that you could get any piece of produce you could ever want there (local crops, that is). Much more colorful than the "sunday only market", this market spanned about a km. It was huge. We bought some nuts and fruit for the imminent night train ride (which went well, only problem was that I woke up at 3 and couldn't fall back asleep... sigh...)
That night we packed everything up and set off for Hospet, a small village outside of Hampi (there are no guest houses in Hampi that would house 20 people for a night, so we had to settle for Hospet). After checking into the hotel, we set off for Hampi. Words cannot describe that first trip. Inside of safari-like jeeps (again), we began to see randomly placed hills upon hills of rock jutting over intensely green landscapes (most of which were rice paddie fields/locally run banana farms). Instantly we were surrounded by rock, it looked like the Israeli desert mixed with the view from just outside the Colby library (lovejoy side). Green and brown and orange shot out at you as the sun hit everything in view. It was an attack on the vision, the best one I've ever had. I don't have many pics of the drive there, but I do have a lot of the ruins and the landscape of Hampi (link above). The good news: those are only HALF the pics I have of Hampi.
The first day we explored the ruins. Truly beautiful architecture. The ruins were of the late Vijayanagar empire that ruled until the 16-17th century. (pics will make this clearer). The most cool piece of architecture, because I'm a huge music dork, was of the temple in the middle of one of the compounds in olden Hampi. The temple had these pillars upon pillars, about 5 feet and length, and were on every single structure within the temple. What was so special about these pillars? Well if you had a mallet (or a fist), whenever you hit the pillars, they would produce a different musical note. Yup. *cue Kevin's gaping mouth and "I have to go there"*. As if the landscape didn't give me enough evidence, I was truly in a heaven on earth.
That's all for now. I'll save my epic day in Hampi for my next post. I have to go eat lunch (funny how that always seems to work out... it's like the blogging gods' curse or something). Love and miss you all, keep being beautiful people, and tell me about your whereabouts!
Pakkalam,
Hasan
In the whole wide world.
Yeah.
Hello everyone,
Let's take a small step back. et me recap as fast as I can my travels in the neighboring state of Karnataka (NW of Madurai). It's probably going to be split into two posts (cause I need to do a ton of work desperately today-- seriously SITA? Why would you bog me down with work when I'm trying to love to India... figuratively...). I think Mysore and the first half of Hampi will be today. Friday I'll write the other half.
We left Madurai on an overnight train headed for Mysore three Saturdays ago (it really has been a long time since I've updated). The overnight train experience was quite that: an experience. We were seated in an AC three tier car that had no compartments, meaning we had to lock our bags and hope they didn't get stolen in the middle of the night. This was my first three tier train trip that I have ever taken (mom can correct that insignificant fact if she so chooses). Three tier essentially means that there are three beds on each side of a compartment (one is the seat you sit on, one you have to chain into place-- don't worry, the chains are quite sturdy... I think Shaq might be pushing it-- and the last one is kind of like the top of a bunk bed without a bunk-- chained to the ceiling). So that would mean there were six people in each compartment. When we finally set up the beds and got down to sleeping, I found it surprisingly cozy, and fell asleep within seconds of hitting the "mattress". I have snippets of being on two tier trains when I hardly slept at all traveling from Varanasi to Delhi to Jaipur (all three of which are in the north) engrained in my memory, so the fact that I fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed (and laid down the sheets that had housed about a billion people before me... yeah, it was not a very sanitary exp. The first thing I did when I got to Mysore was take a 20 minute shower) was quite surprising. I was just about to chomp on a massive ice cream sundae that my mom had bought for me from a horse vendor (don't ask me, it was a dream) when at 2:00 am, my dreamy euphoria came to a screeching halt. A man, cursed be his soul, decided to answer his cell phone and SCREAM into it. I am not exaggerating. the man screamed into that technological communicative device as if he expected people on the moon to hear him before the person on the receiver end... I almost got up and gave him a swift kick in the nuts with my left foot-- the foot that is considered the most unholy of all limb parts in Tamil... fortunately the PA got to him before I did and he shut up. *Sigh* my bad luck on overnight trains continued.
After a very very long bumpy ride, we reached Mysore. We all stumbled into jeeps the size of safari rangers and were lugged to the hotel at which we would stay for the next three days. After a long shower, me and the three other guys on the group started to explore the area. As soon as we walked out of the hotel door we were instantly bombarded by street vendors and auto rickshaw drivers, or as I like to call it, the Indian Papa Razzi. While we waded through the crowd, a man by the name of Joseph (or so he convinced me) started to talk to us. He told us that he worked in a coffee shop just up the road, and somehow convinced us that there was a "sunday only market" near his shop. We figured why not-- let's go see a market. We set off towards the market. As we walked, I began to notice many many differences from Madurai. For one, people actually used the sidewalks (yeah Sakshi, I'm shocked too). Second, the streets were extremely clean, even though I did manage to experience a cow repaving the road with natural excrement (which was then herded off by angry policemen). There were no trash piles or dust ranges anywhere. Third, there were POLICEMEN directing traffic (at stoplights... see stoplights here are more like guidelines... really, so people need an authoritative figure to keep them in check). I could go on and on with the differences. Suffice it to say that Mysore is much more "developed" than Madurai.
Anyway, I began to talk with Joseph; what a character. He had a black pinstriped nike hat with a steve tatko-like collared shirt, bellbottom pants, and a very Jay-Z like swagger. I began to ask him about his life-- he was 23 years old, just out of a local indian college. Throughout our convo about random things such as Obama, English TV and Indian auto rickshaws, he would continually ask me if I would like some hash or marijuana, never failing to add to his offer the following saying: "In Mysore we drink till we die, smoke till we fly... no woman no cry" (which STILL makes no sense to me). I declined him about 19 times before he decided I was a prude. Possessing drugs is illegal in India like in the US, and I would also get kicked off my program for even possessing them... so no dice (Joseph swore that it was legal in Mysore... then again, Joseph swore a lot of things). That on top of the fact that I actually don't really have any need for it. After an awkward 20 minutes to the market, he brought us inside. It was so colorful here; I was in love (not that I hadn't been this whole time here). "this isn't even the big market downtown" Joseph said. As we walked between onion baskets and tea stalls serving coffee in tall beer-like glasses, Joseph ushered us into a man's house. Joseph then bid us adieu, and a man came in and gave us a full run down of the perfume situation in Mysore. and I mean run down: the man had papers explaining each of his magical sensory potions, most of which smelled incredible. We also got to see a woman actually roll incense onto an incense stick that would eventually be sold on the street 3 hours later (side note: there was an incense called "Musk". The description, verbatim: meant to bring the inner aphrodisiac in you. Known to attract females and provide many, ahem, benefits...). After his presentation, he insisted that we buy some. I felt bad not doing it, since we would have just wasted 20 minutes of his life if we hadn't bought anything. I bought one called "lotus" which kind of smelled like Curve cologne back at home (it is supposed to "calm the senses" and "relieve stress" which are always good things). After exiting, we headed back to the hotel area to an Andhara restaurant. Hands downt he best sambar, rasam, and veg meal I've ever had. If you ever manage to make it to Mysore (which is definitely worth a two day stay), go to Hotel RRR (hotel can be used to describe a restaurant here in addition to a hotel). Be advised, those with very low spice tolerances (cough, Emma, cough) must temper the flavor explosion with a bit of curd (which is also provided).
That night, we went to the Mysore Palace. Incredible architecture-- there was a hall that would provide pretty hefty competition to the ball room in Disney's Beauty and the Beast. I'll let pictures tell this architectural story-- aka, click the link above. All I'll say is that the compound was ENORMOUS (like 10 acres of stone, marble, and murals). Beautiful place.
That night, I had my first legal drink in India. A Kingfisher 650 ml light brown beer. Not great, but it rekindled memories of the days of toasting miller high life with Kevin after being plunked on. Sentimental value is all that matters when it comes to booze anyway, I feel.
The next day we visited the "second tallest monolithic (aka, carved out of a single rock) statue in the world" located about an hour and a half away from Mysore. It was a jain man. He stood at 17.5 meters tall, blaringly stark naked (schlong included). In a way, it was beautiful yet also disturbing. He was situated on a large hill, only accessible by a 600 step staircase carved into the hill (hills here are mostly giant stones that randomly jut out from the relatively flat horizon). The site was one of the more holy places for those practicing the Jain religion, housing two temples, one of which was this massive naked man's dwelling place. As we walked up the stone mountain, I saw a number of carvings in Karnatak (the language in Karnatak) that had been left there by Jains who had visited the sites in the past. I don't know the exact date it was erected (poor word choice I know), but a guy at the bottom told me in broken english "it's, you know, abuh abuh (the South Indian "um") ooooollllddd." The view was to die for. Again I should probably let pictures do the talking here. I do have a story. When we got to the top, me and Mark climbed a hidden ladder (made of bamboo, so you knew it was illegal) to a landing that showed the backside of the huge statue (the backside was huge, in tail-- see pics when I get them up). Behind the statue was open landscape for miles and miles on end. Pics will elucidate this part of the story. Eventually police guys caught on and started to yell at us to get down. You only live once!
We climbed down the hill, ate lunch, went back to mysore, got more papa razzi attention, and then decided to climb the huge hill just outside Mysore This hill, housed 1000 steps. I got a work out, my limbs were sore, but I did it. At the top, the view was very disappointing: haze from the city made it impossible to see more than a few miles. We did experience social injustice. A young monkey had gotten a hold of a batch of bananas, and was about to eat them when a huge mammoth of a monkey attacked the young one and ate all the bananas IN FRONT OF THE LITTLE GUY. We all stood there cursing the fat monkey for being a horrible monkey being. It was a good bonding experience.
We were free for most of the next day. Me and a couple of people went to the Mysore market. It was huge, colorful, and by god I would argue that you could get any piece of produce you could ever want there (local crops, that is). Much more colorful than the "sunday only market", this market spanned about a km. It was huge. We bought some nuts and fruit for the imminent night train ride (which went well, only problem was that I woke up at 3 and couldn't fall back asleep... sigh...)
That night we packed everything up and set off for Hospet, a small village outside of Hampi (there are no guest houses in Hampi that would house 20 people for a night, so we had to settle for Hospet). After checking into the hotel, we set off for Hampi. Words cannot describe that first trip. Inside of safari-like jeeps (again), we began to see randomly placed hills upon hills of rock jutting over intensely green landscapes (most of which were rice paddie fields/locally run banana farms). Instantly we were surrounded by rock, it looked like the Israeli desert mixed with the view from just outside the Colby library (lovejoy side). Green and brown and orange shot out at you as the sun hit everything in view. It was an attack on the vision, the best one I've ever had. I don't have many pics of the drive there, but I do have a lot of the ruins and the landscape of Hampi (link above). The good news: those are only HALF the pics I have of Hampi.
The first day we explored the ruins. Truly beautiful architecture. The ruins were of the late Vijayanagar empire that ruled until the 16-17th century. (pics will make this clearer). The most cool piece of architecture, because I'm a huge music dork, was of the temple in the middle of one of the compounds in olden Hampi. The temple had these pillars upon pillars, about 5 feet and length, and were on every single structure within the temple. What was so special about these pillars? Well if you had a mallet (or a fist), whenever you hit the pillars, they would produce a different musical note. Yup. *cue Kevin's gaping mouth and "I have to go there"*. As if the landscape didn't give me enough evidence, I was truly in a heaven on earth.
That's all for now. I'll save my epic day in Hampi for my next post. I have to go eat lunch (funny how that always seems to work out... it's like the blogging gods' curse or something). Love and miss you all, keep being beautiful people, and tell me about your whereabouts!
Pakkalam,
Hasan
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Update Fast Approaching...
... after I finish my summer internship application!
I promise the next update will be a good read-- Touring around Karnataka was so beautiful, and I can remember almost every single moment of it, especially the stories attached. Hopefully I'll be able to get my pics up on here to complement and emphasize the beauty, but don't hold your breath...
Keep being beautiful people--
Love
Hasan
I promise the next update will be a good read-- Touring around Karnataka was so beautiful, and I can remember almost every single moment of it, especially the stories attached. Hopefully I'll be able to get my pics up on here to complement and emphasize the beauty, but don't hold your breath...
Keep being beautiful people--
Love
Hasan
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)