The MOST auspicious day

So today was the day to get married in India. There were 1,000 weddings in Jaipur today and driving through the town at night, there was this really beautiful humming and lighting that made the city feel really exciting and alive. On our drive there and back we saw soooo many fully decked white horses and elephants not to mention the parades with brass bands and people dancing en route to the wedding location.

Our evening starting with us getting dressed in our sarees. They consist of three pieces: the top that really only covers your chest, the bottom skirt and then the fabric that really makes or breaks the outfit. We put the first two on without a problem and then our servant Shorbala helped us with the rest.

We were then en route with the whole crew by about 8, a little sad to find out that we were too late and going to miss the groom’s entrance on the white horse. Oh well, we saw enough on the way and one close up in Pushkar. The whole crew consisted of host mom and dad, the two kids, papaji (grandpa) and our driver and male servant/babysitter Gamlesh.

Like I said the drive there was so colorful. So many women in saris walking around and even on scooters and people all dressed up since EVERYONE was going to a wedding somewhere in town. When we got to ours I couldn’t really tell where to look. It was outside behind a hotel as if it was a courtyard that had two levels. You went down and there was food on the outside boundaries with little tables with umbrellas and then a really epic center piece holding plates and napkins. There were people milling everywhere and there were so many snacks!!! On the left side was dinner food then on the right they were grilling up dosas and even had chow mein- with Indian ketchup it was delish! Walking past that square then you went up some stairs to the tiny dance floor and then the stage where the groom was sitting awaiting the bride. For tonight’s ceremony, the actually wedding, they were to put garlands on each other, take pictures and sit together for the first time as a couple. Later in the evening probably around midnight, they were going to do the religious ceremony where they walk around a fire (I think) seven times and several prayers are read. The whole garland placing part seemed really informal and not even everyone was watching it. The bride looked gorgeous and her makeup and jewelry was so beautiful. The groom looked really awesome too with cream colored suit with sparkles and a really awesome hat with a feather. It was pretty interesting to see how he didn’t pay any attention when the bride walked up the stage and didn’t really seem to smile all too much. She also kept her eyes on the ground almost the entire time. This was an arranged marriage where they had met before these ceremonies had started (yesterday) but had not had much interaction, like one meeting Binu said.

After the garland ceremony we got some food as then they sat on stage greeting people. We hit up some really excellent paneer, chick peas, kofta and fresh naan (first piece of the trip). There was also hot halwal and ice cream. Not really I should have had any of it with my recovering digestive system but it was soooo good.

After scarfing down all of that and another plate of chow mein in a sari, I heard Mundian Bach Te and knew it was time to dance. On our way to the miniscule “dance floor” with the kids and Gamlesh we heard Marjaani- a really popular song from a Bollywood movie here that plays all the time that I hunted down the soundtrack for- I knew we had to get more than just the four 7 year olds on the dance floor to dance. So I got up there with the kids and kind of made a fool of myself. And it was amazing. I MUST LEARN HOW TO PROPERLY DO SHOULDER MOVES. There were some guys that came up and were so into it. It’s got something to do with your hips, keeping your arms kind of straight and then somehow dislodging your shoulders from their sockets. Anyways, some Carly shimmies later, I thought to myself, I wonder what’s appropriate? Then thankfully some woman joined us, our host mom and Binu (host mom’s sister in law) joined us and it was a blast. Niveta called it quits after a song or two and once off the stage she told me my sari top was backwards. Um oops.

After that prolly uber Indian fashion faux pa, she wrapped me up good, hence my bizarre look for the rest of the night. Then we just took a bunch of pictures and a good time was had by all. Here's me with the most important men in my life in India. Note the distance. Haha. I was actually kind of surprised how much of a spectacle it was and that we didn’t actually see much of the bride and groom, like that it didn’t seem they were the center of attention. There was so much shiny-ness, lights and fireworks I was on external stimuli overload and didn’t really want it to end. I don’t think we stopped smiling or saying how much fun we had the whole ride home. Niveta said if we wanted an Indian wedding we could come back to India and she would help us arrange it. I’m not sure if I need to go to that extreme-um maybe who knows- BUT I do need to find a way to get to another Indian wedding. And where my top correctly.

Puskar

Part two of Puskar, read previous entry first.
So after settling in all we could do was gawk in the best sunset I’ve seen here. Our hotel had a roof top-with the most adorable patch of grass on it- and comfy chairs and lots of pink floyd so we grabbed a menu and decided to chill there for the night. With ten of us ordering, dinner took about 2 _ hours to complete but it was incredible. With all of us a harboring a bit of homesickness of maybe just a break from Indian everything, we got awesome stuff like lasagna, cheese sandwiches, baked potatoes, elbow macaroni with mushroom vegetable sauce, pizza and burgers. It was kind of fun that our food was slow to come up because we all ate everything that was ordered and I was reminded of the fact that -I MISS CHEESE! As amazing as paneer is, it really isn’t a fair substitute. Carolyn brought velveeta from home to share with her host family and we hunted down a shop that actually sells shell pasta. I didn’t think I really liked macaroni and cheese- granted velveeta- that much but my mouth is watering just thinking about it. Pathetic.
The next morning we headed down to Puskar’s small but mighty lake. There are different ghats for pilgrims to bathe in while some carry specific importance: Varah Ghat were Vishnu appeared to Brahma, Brahma Ghat were he actually bathed and Ghadi Ghat where Ghandi’s ashes were thrown. The lake actually holds 52 of these kinds of ghats and I actually did a ritual with a priest for my mom, dad and I at one of them. All of it was in Hindi, but it involved flowers, a coconut, colored powder, rice and my forehead was smudged and I got a red and yellow cord on my right wrist. It was done for general happiness and well being and I thought the puja was really cool.
We spent the rest of the day less spiritually- shopping!! Pushkar has attracted an insane amount of foreign hippies and you will find tons of internet cafes, foreign exchanges, Western or Israeli (those out of the army come here to spend their pensions) food- I had a falafel for lunch!! It was almost kind of silly walking around and seeing so many hippies. I felt like I was at another environmental fair, fair trade or social justice convention. There were mostly backpackers in dreads with the most insane amount of pseudo Indian clothing. Flowy skirts, scarves, anklets…kind of like walking versions of ten thousand villages. There were also these kind of MC Hammer balloon pants-which I got a pair of because they were quite comfy- that everywhere was wearing. They’re really puffy and then at the same time look like a giant diaper. So, I don’t know, Pushkar kinda weirded me out. It was my first time that I was like, this doesn’t seem like real India but so many backpackers chose to come here first that we met and stayed longer than they planned. We also saw tons of white people on motor bikes and kids around, meaning they set up shop and never left. Pushkar was a nice break but I couldn’t imagine living there and thinking that was real India. But who am I to say that I know real India I guess. There are a TON of drugs available here too, that are even put in lassis and chai. That is surely not found in all of India and may Indians are kind of embarrassed of Pushkar and don’t see its draw anymore aside from the religious reasons. Anyways, so I’m glad we went and had fun meeting other travelers but I was excited to come back "home" and wear jeans and not feel so clean cut…
Later that evening, Valentine’s Day, Carolyn, Magy and I split off and went to someone’s guest house who was hosting a gypsy dance concert. I think it was actually some white people which was pretty sweet and they had a buffet for dinner of- rice that looked Mexican, potatoes, vegetable casserole and French fries. Again, my maybe hoity toighty view of Pushkar laughed at the buffet they were offering. I just couldn’t get over non-Indian everything was yet wondered if this is what they thought India was. ANYWAYS after getting our plates of food we headed into this gorgeous courtyard and watched some really cool dance performances.
And thus the story ends. We met a really cool backpacker from England names Tim back at the hotel who might be joining some of the group that is heading out to Jaisalmer this upcoming weekend. He was the editor of some Jet Ski magazine in English which I thought was pretty random. Then I got sick and have been riding that wave until now. The bus ride wasn’t too fun back to Jaipur but after crawling into bed, seeing a doctor and getting antibiotics I’m feeling a lot better than I did on Sunday. I just have to be ready for our wedding TOMORROW!!!! For which I will be because that would be stupid to not feel well for an Indian wedding. There are so many weddings going on since these are the auspicious weeks for getting married as some god who sleeps for the rest of the year is awake for this time in February. Stay posted for pictures and a speedy report! I swear.

Shekhawati among other things

So yep, here goes another blog after a seemingly long time of writing. Oh well-another entry after two book reports (how fourth grade but they took forever), two trips and and the long awaited but not so exceptional bout of stomach troubles…ANYWAYS, this past week has been fun though.

I left you somewhere on a Monday or so before we left on our 3 day venture out to Shekhawati. It was formerly a wealthy but lawless land on the trade route between the Arabian sea and the Ganges valley. The noblemen of the area- thakurs apparently fought with each other a lot and really began to flourish when the East India company came in and imposed some semblance of merchant order in the 1750s. A century later, the British used skills of the local merchants in the coastal regions who moved away from the area but they built havelis (beautifully colored and ornate mansions) for love ones back at home. Kinda nuts and I’m sure there were history facts that I didn’t pick up on, but that was the gist.

Our trip out was ridiculous. It’s only a three hour trip out and we huddled our selves into 3 taxis, each with a teacher. Cruising at about 80, “we encountered a pot hole that just kept going.”Looking out the window from our beloved red ford, we saw our front left tire fly out and the driver did a delightful job of getting us to the side of the road with no concern or hesitance. While I myself was hesitant whether or not to but it in the blog because I wondered if this would somehow give the sense that India is a place of negligence or not safe, I add it to say that with a few girls and a hoard of men who came to help right away, we were back on the road in 15 minutes.

Once settled at the hotel we were on our way after lunch. I have come to the realization that I will not be able to identify anything on an Indian menu and the only way to really eat Indian is through a buffet. I may know the legit ways to eat Indian now- like putting dals in the little metal cups- and I might even ask for chipatis or puris instead of naan GASP. I actually haven’t had naan the whole time we’ve been here. Puris are the superior bread of choice when it comes to Indian, it’s a deep fried or steamed, I have no idea but slightly crispy and airy balloon that comes puffed and piping but then turns into hot bread. Oh my gosh I’m terrible at explaining said food but trust me it’s delicious with eggs.

So after lunch we headed to an organic farm teaching facility called Muharka. We visited their research site where they harvest mini crops, have vermicomposting visible, create vats for fertilizers and pesticides and generally act as a place where farmers can come learn some once traditional now organic techniques specific to the desert region. For example, in a small hut in the center of the grounds they burn cow dung and some herbs in copper pots whose ashes are then spread onto the tops of tiny pillars surrounding the area, which act as a pesticide. They also use cow urine and some poisonous nicotine hallucinogen as another pesticide. They also showcased a solar drying machine that extracted water from vegetables and we were able to taste the dried garlic, carrots and sundried tomatoes. So it sounds terrible that what I say next is what I remember most vividly about Muharka, the raitha. After our really nice visit (and most places you go) you’ll get a cup of chai and maybe some kind of snack. Here it started with a laddu (my favorite sweet I think here, basically a ball of brown sugar but not as sweet but still like brown sugar), bhuja (which I’m kind of also obsessed with, basically chow mein but made from lentils and on toast with ketchup= fantastic, it jazzes up our pile of 8 pieces of toast in the morning) and horseradish. Then came the raitha or something or other which was the most horrific thing I was supposed to eat thus far. I don’t think it would have been too bad with a meal, served like we have our plain yogurt, but it was like warm buttermilk with seeds of somekind swimming around and red oily droplets floating on top. So that might have put me over the edge on drinking warm milk alone…ever (which Indians love to have- we have it with our cornflakes for breakfast). Only the boys finished them and all the girls passed them on to them. Anyways, long story short, it was a traumatic milky experience that I don’t wish on anyone not up to stomach it.

Afterwards we left to see one of the best kept haveli museums in the area and spent time doing what we do best, playing around, taking pictures, discovering nooks and crannies and reconvening for a lecture. After that we caught a sunset on a small family farm that grew mustard and had several goats and cattle.

The next morning we headed toward a village school that drew in students from up to 80km away (not sure of the conversion but a mile is about .6 km). It houses students from primary ages to probably about 11 and man do these kids know their stuff. We got to chat with the principle about the education system in India, how it important exams were and what the students in the school were learning. We visited some science labs- including chemistry, biology and physics and I was shocked how the displays I saw and experiments they were doing were ones I remembered from high school. It is obvious that most parts of rural India are very well educated- it is a struggle for villages to offer opportunities that its children have earned once trained at schools and universities. This brain drain has left rural India with little other than textiles and agriculture as main its main sources of income. This is true though of those who can afford to send their children on to better and better schools…And what are these kids going to school for? I do not what to stereotypify India, but so many people in the middle class seem to be doctors or have some kind of government job. When our host dad asked Amber what she was doing with her life of what she hoped to do, she responded that she hoped to work for an NGO and did not plan to make a lot of money. Chuckling he said, why do all you people want to devote your lives to not making money. I don’t know why but from him, it’s really hard to hear to that. Is it because I feel we want to make a difference in international justice work and we don’t get his blessings? But should I be expecting to get that- maybe not and maybe he doesn’t seem himself in part of a developing country, or most conservative state of Rajasthan struggles still with child marriage and rape. It’s as if we came here to learn how to fit into international development work while those living comfortably in the middle class here don’t want anything to do with us. We shall see how this pans out.

Later we visited a fort and another larger farm where I saw the largest buffalo of my life. Granted, I don’t know if I’ve ever actually seen a water buffalo, the farmer also swung a bat at a tree and we ate these berries called “per” that taste like a cross between pear and an apple. FUN! After hitting up Muharka’s Tourism Festival somewhere else in town, which involved us buying treats and having our picture taken with staff as “international guests” for their newsletter, we went to the hotel and headed back to Jaipur the next day. In the car trip back we actually planned out via cell phones, a Lonely Planet and our trusted teacher a trip to Pushkar for the weekend. After booking three rooms at the Pink Floyd Hotel and getting a free drop off at the bus station we were en route to Pushkar with barely being back in Jaipur for 20 minutes. It was incredible.

We basically showed up at the bus station minutes before the bus we need to take was leaving and jumped on and bought our tickets on board. I think you could easily survive in India as long as you know you know where you have to go and just use correct inflection. Anyways, on a comfortable air conditioned bus, we were headed to Pushkar.

“Brahma dropped a lotus flower on the earth- so say the epics- and Pushkar floated to the surface. This pond-sized Hindu pilgrimage town is a magical desert-edged place with one of the world’s few Brahma temples. Rows of sacred ghats front a majestically magnetic lake, where hundreds of milk-colored temples and weather touched domes sit beneath a shifting, pale sky.” I thought that was a pretty good description.

We landed in one piece to the most amazing hotel of all time and for some reason the feeling that we had come to the right place to get a break from the India we knew and eat some food that we had been missing. First things first, our hotel was awesome. Run by a hard-core Pink Floyd fan, its rooms were all named after albums and the place was decorated with skylines- even Chicago!, famous movie posters- Blues Brothers, and their menu had peanut butter on it. (!!!!!!!). Part Two will come soon. This is good for one sitting I think.

You know, your average weekend...

I can’t believe it’s been a week since I have written. It may be unfair to you dear reader, but I think it means on this end, I’ve been finding more to do outside of the house in the evenings and during down time. I think leaving this much time in between entries is a bit absurd and now I’ve forgotten those little things I actually want to remember. But here goes a recap of just the weekend and a promise to myself and you to not give up on writing!

This past weekend a group of nine of us traveled to Fatehpur Sikri, Agra and the bird sanctuary. I’d say that we had a blast but were really glad to get “home” to relax. We left at 6am Saturday morning and got to see the desert waking up and shaking off its purple haze. It was really beautiful and the sun glowed like I’d never seen before. Part dust and part pollution I’m guessing made everything a bit murky but it was so nice to get out of the city. Most of the countryside was filled with a sandy brush and occasional fields of mustard seeds or green crops. We had paid our taxi for two days and had the luxury of stopping when we wanted, listening to music and spreading out as the van seated about 15. This is what I would like to call a “soft landing” into travel in India because that was all well and good and then when we got to the fort all hell broke loose. Since our driver didn’t English and we were thinking it would be easy to get from the parking lot to the fort, we weren’t expecting sheer confusion. Swarms of unofficial tour guides and merchants selling postcards, necklaces and key chains just kept getting in our way, sometimes to the point we couldn’t walk. I hate for any of this to sound like complaining, because I still think wow how cool is it that I am in India and out of anything I’ve ever known, but this was a moment I just wanted to scream. I guess travel in Europe, in the states and where I know Spanish seems so much easier and that I could trust someone to ask a question and not be taken advantage of. At this moment near the most visited site in India (I don’t want to stereotype for the rest of the country) I hit my I hate this moment. No didn’t mean anything, we couldn’t get our bearings, and all we wanted were for some signs to point us to something official. After refusing guides and just getting information to catch the bus to the fort, paying for an entrance fee (another fun fact, the HUGE price difference for Indians 20 Rs and Foreign Tourists 260 Rs), we found some peace and quiet in the fort itself. Caroline and I had brought our guide books to get us through it, which said “the purpose of many buildings is uncertain and much of what the guides say is pure fiction.” We skipped around in giant courtyards, climbed towers, posed Bollywood style near columns. Pure silliness but absolutely necessary after all of us just wanted to die feeling so stupid, confused and called out so blatantly as tourists. After that, there was a free mosque we could visit which we did which turned out to be another disaster that I don’t remember half of what we saw because no one would leave us alone. We just wanted to look around and understanding that it was a holy place, we were pretty surprised how many people were out to make a buck. When I was even taking a picture inside, one of them moved my camera so I could get a better angle in his opinion. We left that area pretty quickly too. I just feel annoyed for that to have been my experience while at the same time who am I to criticize how these people make a living. Either way I really just missed paying entrance fees and asking questions with truthful answers and not someone trying to scam you constantly. I just hope to shake it off and not let it taint my opinion of the rest of the country.

We were so happy to back to the “safety” of our van. A part of that also made me so depressed. I hate that it was the only way that I liked traveling, isolated in a privileged luxury taxi, but it was the truth. I read apart in the book: “Nothing can fully prepare you for India, but perhaps the one thing that best encapsulates this extraordinary country is its ability to inspire, frustrate, thrill and confound all at once. Poverty is confronting, Indian bureaucracy can be exasperating and the crush of humanity sometimes turns the simplest task into an energy-zapping battle. Even the most experienced travelers find their sanity frayed at some point.” I felt this really spoke to the weekend.

Anyways, the drive to the Taj was about an hour or so and after our driver got lost we finally made it to the “ sprawling, bloated and polluted” city of Agra. Once again, we got off the van to another swarm of guides and pushed our way through to the nearest eating establishment, a government owned restaurant located outside of the West Gate. I’ve never had a better meal (since we didn’t eaten breakfast and felt like we had gotten the crap beat out of us). I had a thali- which is basically a huge metal tin filled with little cups of glorious Indian things. Usually= dal (soupy lentil), 2 vegetables (like potatoes with spices and cauliflower and carrots-WHICH are red here and sweet and so good), 2 roti (naan but browner and made of a different flower), I think roti actually means bread and naan or chapatti is a type), cup of rice, yogurt sauce, salad and then a crunchy bread piece. I haven’t actually eaten meat the entire time I’ve been here. Our family will not serve meat at home but apparently our father does outside of the house. He’s really into pork, and I find it amusing he makes pork runs. Anyways, it’s not that I won’t eat meat here or don’t trust it, it just tends to be more expensive and I like the vegetable dishes more anyways!

And now onto the ticket counter where again, Indians 20 Rs and Foreigners 750 Rs, we got into a line for women and left Ben to the men’s queue- which had three lanes while the woman’s had only one. 25 minutes later, we met up with him and carried on into the complex. My history/museum nerd really hated the fact that I didn’t know too much of what we were looking at aside from ginormous buildings of red with Koranic inscriptions etched into the walls but then they gave way to the Taj. The path we followed into it was so gorgeous and can really only be explained with pictures.

We played for the rest of the day taking pictures, doing cartwheels, enjoying our own company and the fact that this was no ordinary occurrence. Every angle was amazing and watching the sunset approach even changed the color of the building itself. The taj was built by the Emperor Shah Jahan as a memorial for his wife Mumytaz- who he obviously loved a lot- who died in child birth giving their 14th child in 1631. He was so heartbroken his hair apparently turned gray overnight. He began construction immediately- employing some 20,000 people from Central Asia, India and even Europe to work on the marble screens and marble inlay work made with thousands of semi-precious stones- and it was completed around 1653. Not too long after it was finished, he was overthrown by his son and imprisoned in the Agra Fort where he apparently could see his creation from a window. He died there and was buried alongside his lover in 1666. Tragic.

It was worth the hassling and constant picture taking. We were asked to be in several family photos, approached by several men wanting to be in pictures with us. Magy even tried to turn it into an entrepreneurial scheme by charging…she may be onto something. When we asked them for money they laughed and walked away. I think dealing with their fascination of us with a sense of humor makes the whole thing seem less annoying.

After our walk back through a crowd of camels- which I found I’m allergic too as well as horses, ugh I’m so lame- we made it to the van and to our hotel in Bharatpur, where we stayed nice and snug in three rooms of three made for 2. For dinner I had another thali and afterwards we hung out in our room watching mtv India (one morning last week I woke up to our dad singing along with “Video Killed the Radio Star.” The “oooh ooh” was incredible) and then Jumanji in Hindi. We woke up and Caroline and I ordered food for everyone: French toast, scrambled eggs on toast with ketchup and masala omletts. I’m curious what masala really means to Indians because masala omletts and masala chips just means flavored, but not really the same way. ANYWAYS. The French toast was really tasty and served with electric red jam. It seems that “red” is another Indian fruit flavor, possibly strawberry. Sometimes you’ll find really red ice cream too that tastes insanely artificial but I’m not sure like what.

The bird sanctuary was really peaceful as well and we paid for a guide to take us around. We saw kingfishers, which may now be my favorite bird- an item I never thought I would have, owls, egrets, crazy Indian duck, antelope and wild cows. We all passed out in the van on the way back to Jaipur and were so excited to shower. After a weekend of no homework, in class today we discovered none of us even tried to do it last night. Oh, well, I think we got enough of a cultural lesson.

Last week was pretty tame. Some highlights: discovering potato smiles (a fried potato with batter in the shape of a smiley face), eating a paneer salsa wrap at McDonald’s, finding a music store with “sizzling bollywood hits” of which we as a group decided to buy lots of cds and then share it with one another and visited Bhagwan Mahaveer Viklang Sahayata Samiti, the World’s Largest Limb Fitting Society. It is an organization, which has established branches all over India and holds a large amount of mobile camps in Asia, Africa and Latin America (the director had just come back from a trip to Colombia) to fit anyone who comes on site with a limb. I didn’t really understand the exact logistics of what materials were used but we saw the production of them and plaster and rubber and joints developed with the help of MIT and Standford are used. The average limb costs the society $35 to make when some in the US can cost upwards of $8,000. It was a really incredible organization that only uses 4% of its funding to do this. I didn’t really know that the loss of limbs was such an enormous factor affecting the poor in this country, or for that matter all over the world, but by helping a person regain his ability to provide for his of their family and general livelihood means a world of difference.

So that’s been life here. I’m getting a bit tired now and have to start getting down to the nitty gritty of actually doing my Hindi. I have almost mastered the alphabet and script, basic sentence construction and the oblique tense, which I think it pretty impressive for about two weeks of class. Class tends to be pretty overwhelming since we started with written Hindi “Mera nam kya hai” and had it written in script, and had it written in English. Today apparently she felt we were done being babied and went straight to Nagari script. So yeah, I’ve gots some studying.

Tidbits:
Our new favorite hangout at night: The Rock, where there is hookah, food and servers who wear Western fringed vests and cowboy hats.

Tasty treat: Zulu bars. A hunk of chocolate on a stick, surrounded by chocolate ice cream dipped in chocolate with nuts. Sooooo good.