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

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

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

India #3: Pre-Tour

Buongiorno!

I know that this greeting is hardly related to my current location, but I suppose I'm just stickin it to Colby's Italian Department for denying me access to Italian II my freshman spring year.

Eat that Italians (yep, that's a war declaration Sarah).

Wow, that could be easily misconstrued if you put emphasis on "eat" instead of "that"...

Moving on...

So I decided to change my internet scenery: here I am sitting in the upstairs of my host family's house using their internet (I tried to say no, but because the internet cafes are so far away and I don't have to be near the SITA center until 6:45 when I leave for our first "educational tour", I consented...). In about 5 hours (when most of you will wake up and realize that holy shit, it's saturday, and god damn it what the fuck is that white stuff still doing out there... except my family in NC... *wanh wanh*), I'm going to be leaving with the group for our first educational tour. We're going to Mysore, Bangalore, and Hampi, the first two of which are huge huge cities, and the third of which is a very beautiful landscape filled with religious ruins/sacred groves. I'm so excited to not be working (see way below for ongoing rant) for a week, and this trip is gonna be baller-- stay tuned for picturess! (yes, I did just say baller. SHoot me). As such, I'm gonna take this time to be off facebook and other internet activities until I come back-- I'm sure I'll have a lot to tell/post about!

I realized a little late that I left out some details from my first two posts, namely women and restrictions, the ups and downs of Indian eating, and the environment. If you're tired of details and want me to stop being an anthropologist, please skip the first four paragraphs. It's just so hard to ignore these aspects of the society around me, because Indian culture literally hits you in the face every time you walk around (perhaps because of cultural difference), and so a good deal of my experience deals with the onslaught of Indian culture that I face on a day to day basis...

To be a girl here is a struggle. I know that during my first few posts I was all about how the clothes on girls looked so pretty (and that I secretly wanted to wear one...) and how women's roles here were quite different, but recently I've been struck by how mysoginistic (to our standards anyway) and restrictive the Tamil culture is toward girls in general. I could make the tentative argument (hopefully this next sentence will not start an everlong digest argument that ultimately ends up going nowhere with most people involved frustrated that they even got involved, because I mean no harm by implying "some people are more privilaged than others", it's just TRUE... if anyone does that, I will personally shoot you with a nerf gun... twice) that a guy here is much more visibly privilaged than girls. I can pretty do whatever I want (save wear a sari, despite my inner lusts): I can cycle home without fear of harassment, say hi to anyone on the road who desperately wants to hear me speak english coherently (which, for those who know me, is a personal struggle of mine...), or talk to anyone (wearing a salwar kamiz would be a funny occurence, and many people, if they don't have reason enough with my red sox "ramirez" jersey, will stare uncontrollably and then strike up a conversation with a nearby Indian saying "look at that idiot"... except in tamil). While talking to the girls onthe program and overhearing many conversations, I've begun to realize how engendered this place truly is. Girls here face an inordinate amount of harassment, marginalization, and restrictions that makes them uncomfortable. The initial euphoria of wearing a beautiful cotton salwar kemiz with a duputa (a scarf-like thing) has long past, and many of the girls on my program are starting to get irritated at the amount of issues they have to deal with being a girl on a day to day basis put on them. Let me list just a few of them: 1. when an indian guy who is older than 20 approaches an Indian girl in Tamil culture, it is very very weird. However, I hear stories on a day to day basis of older guys asking penetratingly personal questions that makes them uncomfortable or staring at them. Staring here is common, but for most of the girls on our program, if they are not in a group, they are at loss for what to do when this occurs: is he actually interested in me as a foreigner or does he want to get into my salwar? 2. the expectations for girls here are equally as ridiculous. I hear stories of how host families have continually berated girls on our program about being too "manly", both in clothing or in activity. Clothingwise, the Tamil culture views clothing as "restraining a woman from her inherent uncontrollable lusts"; thus, women must always wear their hair up, cover their ankles, and wear a top with sleeves. Anything worn other than this is considered whorish... and are a lot more likely to be harrassed or groped (one girl on our program was publically harassed just beacuse she was wearing capris and a t-shirt... yeah, it's serious). It is equally weird for Tamilians to understand that girls actually like to do more "manly" things like sports. Last weekend when we played cricket, one of the girls that was playing with us told me of the scene that occurred before she left the house: essentially her host mom was under the impression that she wasn't going to go play cricket, but sit and watch and take pictures... when the girl said that she was going to play cricket, the whole family looked at her wide eyed and asked her 2-3 times if she was actually going to play cricket. When the girl eventually got to the cricket pitch, the Indian guys we were playing with asked her if she needed someone to run for her. The list goes on, and on, but I feel like you get the point. every day it is rare to never hear one of the girls on my program frustrated at their more restricted place... and they often make comments at the four guys on the program about how we are so lucky. And to be honest, we are. This may seem to be just another male realizing his higher place in the patriarchal world we live in (I can't seem to word it right, and they way I have it down right now just sounds weird... by I hope you know what I mean)-- the girl as the victim and the male as less than affected... yet the intense visibility of these gender specific restrictions generally has made me think about how privilaged I am as a male on this program...

As I walk down the Madurai streets (and I remember this to be true of Benaras as well), it is weird if I do not see a single piece of trash. If any of you have looked at the pictures I posted on Picasa, there are a couple of pictures of just trash. They aren't of garbage in near or around garbage cans. They're of garbage in river basins, beside houses, lining the roads during cycle rides, and more. And when I say trash, I mean trash- like piles and piles and bags and loads of tiny specks as I ride past on my cycle. I also took one picture of a fire by the side of the road. This wasn't a random fire that college students would jump over after UNC beat Duke in an epic game going into four overtimes for the NCAA championship- it was a fire that was burning excess trash by the side of the road. Trash is omnipresent here, and it is not strange to see a person break open a banana, toss it, and watch as a cow slurps it up and calls it a meal. This doesn't work too well with plastic or material trash in general, which is the majority of the trash that I see. As such, most of the Indian ground is infused with plastics or someone's lunch container from a nearby restaurant. It's weird to see trash so close to you at all times of the day. (I know that around COlby campus I pick up trash whenever I see some and place it in a trash bin... although how elitist is it to do such a thing, when the trash will only end up in someone else's backyard while I enjoy the bermuda grass and greenery (or whitery, depending on the season) of Colby campus. So it goes.) While the Indian government has a trash collecting system, it is much like the jaywalking law: it will probably not be enforced or followed... On top of this, the trash on the side of the road often provides jobs for poorer people (people of the lowest caste), so is it really that bad? THere are a lot of aspects to this "public trash" of public property, and so many questions attached to it as well... What is interesting about this is that you rarely find trash in private places or places covered by a roof... whereas most of the trash from the inside gets deposited right outside the house. I'm actually starting to get used to it. I threw my first piece of trash onto the ground the otherday: a small plastic bag filled with excess banana leafs and newspaper that used to be my lunch. It was hard to do the throwing motion with a plastic bag in hand, knowing I would just be submitting to the Indian man. I admit-- I almost kept it in my pocket and waited till I got back to the SITA center, but then I realized that it would end up somewhere anyhow, so why would such a small piece of trash make a load of difference if it were in front of my house or in some poor person's backyard? (Cue Emma and every other environmental friendly person at Colby's gaping mouth... oh and Dan Band and Eric Maltbie's)

I don't believe I elaborated enough on eating. For one, you eat with your hands (your right hand actually, because your left hand is your ass wiping hand. in general, the right hand is more "auspicious", and if you offer a left hand to greet someone, they might spit in your face... if you're really feeling dirty, you can step on their feet with your left foot and then greet them with your left hand... I haven't tried it out yet, but I'm thinking that you might end up with cow dung as a moustache), except for soup and things like this. Indians actually say that it is MORE sanitary to eat with your hands (after washing them of course), and that it feels much more natural to eat from the hand than from a pronged metal device, and they have a point. Who knows what really is on a spoon before you pick it up in Foss dining hall... and feeling the food before shoving it in your mouth really makes you appreciate it a whole lot more in general.

I think I'm done with the details. NOw on to what I've been up to lately:

Despite the fact that I've only been in Madurai for 19 days, I have become really close with my host family, so close that the other day I said "parawa-yilla" (aka: enh, it's ok) to my amma asking me whether the food was good or not (in Tamil society, if you say that, you generally get a backhand to the face because it is equal to saying "your cooking isn't actually all that great"- and I did, in fact, receive a firm backhand to the back when I said this-- although she knew I was joking; oddly related, my ammaa can throw a frisbee backhand very very far). Me and my ammaa are quite a sarcastic pair, and we definitely have a playful sort of mother-son thing going on (cue maternal mother jealousy). I'm getting on really great with my host siblings. My sister and brother are both warming up to me, and we regularly play small games such as hopscotch or scrabble. I've also taught both of them how to throw a frisbee, and we regularly play in the lot in front of my house after I get home from SITA each day (I have not, however, taught them the denial defence fucking in tents cheer yet, so I can't say that they are real frisbee players yet... that is next on my agenda). Me and my appaa are continuing our more "intellectual" conversations, and I ask him a lot about the current state of politics in Tamil Nadu (the state of India we are in) or what he thinks about a news instance. We both watched the Obama inauguration together, and smiled throughout (we were both quite irritated about the announcers saying this was a huge inauguration just cause it was the FIRST AFRICAN AMERICAN president... and what about him changing politics? I dunno, it was a very racist moment). I love my situation at home right now, and I always am very willing for my privacy to be disturbed by any of them :-).

The other day we went to a religious cave on the outskirts of Madurai. It had been constructed in the 8th century AD by South Indian Hindus in the area (Jain Hill was a very holy place for Jainists). When we originally arrived to the space, I almost thought we were visiting a petting zoo. Surrounding the cave were hundreds (and I mean hundreds) of free-range monkeys. I've never seen something so incredible in my life. For the first 30 minutes of our visit, we were playing with monkeys (in a very distant manner) and watching monkeys play and make use of the human trash in the surrounding area. I have a picture of one of the girls giving a monkey water from her water bottle. Another girl took a video of a monkey chewing gum, and in the middle of him chewing, he grasped the gum and stretched it outside of our mouth, like a 8 year old kid who had just realized that gum was flexible. I had never been so close to a wild animal in my life (well, besides the cows that accompany me to lunch occasionally), and seeing how human these monkeys were was simply amazing. I felt like a chief photographer for National Geographic studying the humanization of animals. It is indescribable in words-- Hopefully I'll get these pictures up soon.

Some other things I have done:

I went downtown to get a USB cord alone and got HOPELESSLY lost. No, I didn't lose my ability to read maps, no I didn't lose my ability to follow directions, Madurai's just freaking confusing (picture downtown boston on steroids. Fucking scary) and the traffic pattern on top of trying to find your way is always really scary. I'm definitely making a facebook album of this experience, so stay tuned-- the pictures will tell what I won't right now!

Last night my ammaa taught me how to drive a motorbike (no mother, I didn't go into the road-- SITA prohibits me from doing so anyway), and I spent close to 30 minutes transporting my thampi (little brother) around the compound. It was really fun, but I can totally understand why I'm being barred from getting a bike: I would get hurt. It's bad enough that I played chicken with an autorickshaw the other day (actually it was more like: I was driving on the LEFT side of the road like any other driver, and this auto rickshaw was coming directly at me from the opposite direction. We then charged at each other until the auto rikshaw got scared and swerved out of the way. I'm thinking about trying it with a bus...), and when you're on a motorbike, you can just lose control in all the divets and swerves you have to do as a small vehicle in a transportation hierarchy based on LARGENESS.

If some of you saw my facebook status the other day, you'll know that i can now officially make dosai- a delicious South Indian pancake. Next to come is sambar, chippati, and hopefully vadai. Yes, I am planning on cooking for you (and yes I will be cooking NON SPICY things as well, despite the fact that everything here can burn your mouth of in t-minus .01 seconds). Yay for cooking!

I suppose that is all, I'm a little perturbed at the amount of work that my classes are giving me-- I mean, I understand I'm in college right now technically, but why give me 80 pages a night to read? Really SITA? Really? Anyway, I"m past it and ready to hit the trains (we're taking an overnight train to Mysore-- so exciting! yes mom, I will wear my money belt and lock all my belongings...) for our tour. I'm also going to be able to buy a beer for the first time (save Canada) as a minor-- it is ok to drink in Bangalore/Mysore-- actually people do it quite regularly. So much for being dry while I'm here.

If you haven't already, check out my photos! I'm not done with them by any means (I have a whole other memory card to add onto it), but hopefully they wil be up after tour!

Love and miss you all, and keep being beautiful.

Poo yete Vaaren.

Hasan

Oops!

I didn't mean to actually post this (I have an update coming-- I'm gonna do it before I leave for the "educational travel I" that will be 7 days next week). Sorry for the let down :-(

Oh wait, JUST KIDDING!: I have a reason to distract you from your lives. My picasa page is http://picasaweb.google.com/thewilderfire/India1?feat=directlink so if you get tired of waiting for the slideshow on the right of the screen, you can just go straight to that and look at visual representations of my emails (I'm going to post a few albums on facebook of select photos in categories... but that is a long way away...)

Anyways, I'm doing well-- update to come

Love and miss you allllllll :-)

Hasan

India Update #2 (w/o pics)

Nalla Tung (good evening).

Here's a continuation of my last email: sorry it's overkill. Maybe I should follow people's complaints and just make a blog. For now, I've set my firewall on anti-peer-pressure.

Anyway, a lot has happened to me since I've gotten here. On top of the cultural adjustment charted out in my last email (which surprisingly has gone a lot smoother than planned), a combination of SITA events and my own cultural exploration have kept me busy since I landed two Wednesdays ago. Upon arriving in Chennai (that city I told you about that was north of here), we checked into a hotel for the night to regain our bearings (which we lost due to heavy turbulence and sitting in between huge muscular men on the flight... economy class for 16 hours is severely underrated... for its fucking discomfort). We took a train to Madurai the next day, which brought me back to my train rides across the north in '96. One thing that isn't underrated is the Indian countryside. The South is relatively flat, so when I looked out the window just to space out, I found myself staring at around a hundred miles (and more) of lush green fields and tropical plants that would make cole and firmage cry with joy. That was a little hyperbolic of me. Suffice it to say that it was a very beautiful ride, and despite the fact that I had completed only 5 hours of sleep during my 48 hour travel period to India, I managed to stay awake, making small talk with the crew and watching the wild Indian countryside fly by me. The Indian train, for those who have experienced it, is an... experience. When you think you're sitting in an A/C car to yourself, train attendants invade your personal space yelling "CHAI CHAI CHAIIIIIII" or "Coffee walla, coffee walla" or "vadai, vadai, vadai (fried donut)" and banging loudly as they pass. So on top of the fact that I was constantly preoccupied, the expectation to sleep at all was close to nil anyhow. The bathrooms are equally as experiential. (For those who don't know, an Indian toilet is essentially a hole in the floor that is only flushed by a bucket of ameoba/giardia filled water (slight exaggeration). On top of that, the Indian plumbing system (well not on trains, your business actually goes str8 on the tracks) cannot tolerate toilet paper or any paper product. That's right, number two included. I'll spare you the details, but it involves a cup of water and your left hand... and some rigorous soap and water soaking shortly afterwards). In the words of Blake Kast from Grinnell College in Iowa: "It was a nice little introduction to South India" (yes si, we have some discussing to do :-P).

We arrived in Tanjavore, a major center for Hinduism in the south, the same day as the ride, and spent the night shopping in the center of town. I got a greyish/black shirt for about 400 rupees and a veshti for 200 in preparation for Pongal (a new year for Tamil people celebrating the harvest). A veshti is much like a man-skirt that you tie. Actually, bad analogy. It's like a very thin cotton towel that is completely white save a lining colored in some fashion or another (yes, you tie it the same way as well). For those of you up in Maine right now, this may not be a good option for the negative temparatures that plague the hill. For us in Madurai, the veshti allows a very nice breeze in 80 degree weather, if you get my meaning.

The next day, we went to the "Big Temple" in Tanjavore devoted to the Hindu god Shiva. We went at around 5 at night, and the sun was setting as we arrived. It was probably one of the most breathtaking sights I've seen (no, I haven't been to the grand canyon yet) since being introduced to the Old City of Jerusalem just under 4 years ago (I miss it too Annie). I have some pictures attached to give you a sense of the lighting while I was there. I also have a pic of me being blessed by an elephant. Hindu mythology says its good luck to be blessed by a Yaanai (elephant in the picture). The way it works: you give the elephant a sacrifice offering (some form of fruit, usually a banana cause they love them, and bananas here are excellent), which of course he eats. Afterwards, you give him a one rupee piece, that goes into the bucket of the "yaanai master" who trains the elephant. Right after you place the rupee in his trunk, the elephant touches your head and wallah, you're blessed. After the elephant episode, we went inside and "prayed"... which is hardly a good word for it, because well, we aren't very Hindu. Hopefully I'll be able to put up a facebook album of that night, the shots I got were incredible.

K I'm gonna try and hurry to today (I'll probably fail, but stick with me... p(l)eas(e)?

After Tanjavore, we took a van ride down to Madurai through the chaos of oncoming traffic (and buses... I'm still scared of them). When we reached Madurai, me and a couple of kids on the program took a walk around. The first few minutes were intense (see email #1), but we eventually found ourselves next to the river that splits Madurai into two halves (the SITA center is on the half that isn't in the downtown area). Again, incredibly beautiful (attached picture). While walking around, kids and Indian adults came up to us to get our picture taken. The interactions I had on that first walk were like none I've ever had in my life (or I think I've ever had in my life... subject to debate...). Every person I talked to was so compelled to understand who I was. I frequently had to answer questions with "Chapel Hill, North Carolina" or "yes, I was in Benaras 10 years agoish" (the ish threw them off a lot-- I only did that number once). It was so unlike the states... and I really am trying to not make a blanket statement here. I've had a lot more penetrating first discussions with people here than I've ever had with anyone I've met in the US. It's very strange-- it's probably cause I'm a westerner, but I can't help being reminded of how the concepts of people and time could not be more different here. To a Tamil person's mind, I am a subject of study, wonder, curiosity, and information, someone to be recognized and questioned (and practiced English on in very fast and odd Tamil accents). People take the time from where they are going or what they are doing to reach out to me. I also notice that, as I said in the last email, people talk A LOT here to strangers. Despite all the banter about "protect your belongings," I almost feel like if I were to leave a piece of information on the street with my name and phone number on the street (given that it had no economic value of course), it would be returned to me... I can't really describe it well, and it also may be the thrill of seeing an obvious Westerner donning a t-shirt with the words "Rikshaw sir?" imprinted next to a space-man on the moon.

Anyways, you're probably wondering what I've been up to in Madurai. Well, we've gone to the following places as a group: Meenakshi Temple (a huge huge temple with like 8 huge towers around it... unfortunately they're thatched up because they are "undergoing a paint job"... which happens once every 12 years... what's awesome, is that the "unveiling" of the repainted pires occur the day after we leave Madurai. Brilliant), Jain Hill (essentially a large 1000 foot hill made of rocks-- don't think this is small you white mountain/rocky mountain snobs-- because the world is essentially flat down here, you can see quite a bit from just 1000 feet), and celebrated Pongal (which was a great experience-- can only be described in pics... facebook will help me on this one... or perhaps my future blog?). All of these places were incredible, and I fully enjoyed the experiences I had there... Although Meenakshi is quite big, I much preferred Tanjavore's.

Today me and two other people from my group took a trip to a surrounding village around Madurai as part of my socio-political issues class. I think this might have been the first time that I've felt uncomfortable as a foreigner here (elaboration below). Madurai is increasing its size rapidly, and within 20 years, these more traditionally run village will be associated into the city. When we arrived, I encountered a very homely and cohesive town. It reminded me of a sort of African township that I had seen in movies during my Ethnographies of Africa class my sophomore fall year. We saw a temple in the open air, and I took a lot of pictures. While we were in the village, however, the air metaphorically started to take on a subtly darker color. We learned from our teacher that the political system in the town had completely been decimated by government reforms in an effort to globalize India. The town before the invasion of Multi-national Corporations was a self-sufficient town that traded with Madurai for goods (often farmers would go in and sell their goods for a profit as well). The political system in place: a headman would settle village disputes. The headman was chosen on a hereditary basis, and served as the political head of the village. Contrary to US politics, this did not mean that this headman was wealthy in any respect. The caste system is very much a reality for these villages, with the village we visited being made up of 4 castes. That being said, the people there get along well despite the oppressive tenets set by the caste system. After some government changes, however, things have begun to change. WIth a law that empowers an economic hierarchy over a caste system, the headman position has completely disappeared. While the hereditary headman was habitually poor each year, figures in the villages who had accumulated wealth began to speak out against the headmen economically, displacing a once solid and rooted power. As a result, people have started to fight for power in the area, and because the headman himself is supposed to settle disputes between the village people, this dispute is yet to be resolved. During the headman dispute, all disputes are thus put on the backburner (the dispute has been ongoing for the last 30 years... which means all village disputes have not been mediated). On top of this, government allowances to MNC's have forced many village owners to sell their land to these MNC's and lose their once self-subsistent living pattern. Because the village people are for the most part illiterate and uneducated and the MNC primarily operates through machinery and employs highly specialized workers, this results in a job vacuum in the area, leaving the villagers to find other methods of income.

As I sat there absorbing the above information with my camera and waterbottle in hand (there's a lot more to tell, but I think you guys don't really enjoy anthropological essays... I can tell you that I can become quite bored by some of them as well), I suddenly felt out of place ethically. All we were doing in that space was learning about their suffering, extracting this information in order to understand larger issues at stake... when all three of us knew that we probably wouldn't even help this community regain their traditional bearings in the slightest. Every picture I took felt like piracy-- Who was I to extract this information and leave this community high and dry, while I come away with an extra experience to add to my ever-growing Study Abroad resume. It just seemed so unfair to extract and not give back. We met so many people today, but I don't know any of their names (I feel really guilty about this), only their faces through those lovely pictures I took that will make other people on this program want to visit as well... On top of that, how could a local and national government only supplement this economic and political reform as the only solution? A lot more must be done, and yet there's no one arising to the task. My host dad says that politics here are corrupt, and my experience today was proof in a sense (indirectly). I dunno, I acknowledge that we must experience to learn about our lives and eventually fix them, but I was particularly bothered by that today, because I just couldn't help them out. Perhaps I'll do my Independent Study on that village... or some like it to give back for what they provided me (which was a "good time" and a "new way of looking at things", two things that a study abroad student often strives for in their experience).

I don't mean to be over-critical or satirical... I guess I just never really fully faced the North-South divide occuring in front of my face before. I read all these articles about the anthropological debate surrounding anthropological extraction just for the anthropologist's research grant (aka, just to the betterment of the anthropologist, leaving the community to be helped by someone who ends up reading the report, which often ends up being not too many people) and other ones about North-South production/consumption things... but god it felt so shitty to sit there with my camera and take mental notes of my experience when these people were struggling to survive.

Anyway, I've pretty much taken you through the highlights so far. Of course I've been taking classes (enrolled in Environmental Issues, Socio-political Issues, Tamil language, and Ethnographic methods) and mulling around on my own just to get more and more familiar with the area (and I relearned how to play cricket last weekend with a bunch of guys my age and from my program-- Abajan's lessons earlier in my life served me well, because I ended up being one of the best players out there :-)). I'm also continuing to satisfy myself with daily bucket showers (shower heads waste too much water in the Indian mind). The first one is always painful because it is so cold, but after the first few waterfalls, you begin to gain back sensitivity again. Other than that, I've been writing and reading a lot in my spare time, on top of bonding with my host family. They really are great. I could probably write a whole email about how appreciative I am of them (especially cause I hear horror stories about other host families from other people on my program... force-feeding, force-dressing and force-hairdos have come through the grape-vine quite often...).

That's all for now. Shit, it's 7:30 pm (after dark). I need to get back to my host family. Enjoy the pics, and I'll be sure to write during the following weeks (maybe about a blog?)

Love and miss you all so much, and keep updating me with how you're doing-- the emails I've received so far have been really rewarding to read and I thank those of you who have sent them :-)

Pooh yete vaaren

Love,

Hasan