Banaras: Forest of Bliss

I have to remind myself how much and why I love living in this city.  My trips to Delhi and Goa, while fun, are deceptive and they make me distrust and dislike my "home town."  But when I come back home I fall in love again with the place.  There is just so much to love.


The other day we took a boat ride down the Ganga- seeing the sunrise, passing by villages, and heading past the ghats.  A former program participant was with us, he now lives in Delhi and is in charge of Fullbright in India, and it was through him that again saw this place as amazing.  I needed to be told why people love Varanasi, what brings them back and back and back.  On the boat I was able to see the city in a far more relaxed and peaceful way.  The sun hitting the buildings, the people all bathing, the cows meandering, and our boat slowly passing it all by made for an very touching pictures.  I now walk the ghat twice a week, and each time in the silence of the night, I am reminded about how lucky I am to live here, how fast this is all going, and how I want to cath and grab every second that passes through my fingers.  Varanasi is opening up to me in the most wonderful of ways, and I know I need/will come back.  I have meet some people from Europe that have been living here for over 20 years-- I wonder if I could hack that one


Lately I have been searching and really thinking about what I want to do when I get back home, and everyday the list grows longer.  I am happy I have my mom there to give me my needed dose of reality.  I would like to stay in India over the summer, but I just don't know if I could hack the heat- 120 degrees daily.  I would like to come back home to Rockford and hang with my family (anybody have a job for me?).  I would like to move back to Madison.  And now the newest in the string of outrageous ideas: San Francisco, my friend just signed on an apartment for the summer in the Mission.  But as my mom told me: one of the most expensive cities in the US and also in the state with 3rd highest in unemployment. Blah Blah Blah- but she is right.... sigh :)


The semester is ending and I have a bit of work to do: but enjoyable work: finishing some silk weaving, going around town and collecting samples of different silks, brocade styles, and regional textile designs. I have an outline to write and small five pager to do to.  But after those things I have my break and then the real work begins when I come back home: PROJECT, COLLECTING DATA FOR MY PROJECT, miniature painting, wrestling, and learning learning Hindi!  This is really a great way to learn

Beard Bustin'

Say Hello to My Little Friend
2 months ago I made a bet with Craig, after receiving the best shave of my life in Mussorie, to not shave my beard until November 18th.  Well 2 months are almost complete (WOW time flies and both languishes in India-- I'll be home before I even know it) and soon this animal will be shorn off my face.  I can't even remember what my chin looks like.  I am also told daily that I look like I am from Iran or Afghanistan, and actually real life Afghanis thought I was one of them (oh the irony).  Soon I will be 1000 rupees richer (20 dollars holla!) , as compliments of Craig's wallet.

I AM BACK

I am back.  It has been quite a while since I even signed into my blog, but I have just been so busy lately.  And time is passing so so quickly.

I had a wonderful time in Goa!  It was relaxing and it was definitely a welcome diversion from my studies (which I am continuing diligently!)  I would recommend Goa to anybody: it is beautiful, the people are friendly and laid back, the sun is bright and hot, the beaches are beautiful, there is no hassle, they take a siesta from 12.00 to 3 pm, they eat meat!  Everyday we would eat fresh coconuts and there was one night we were able to escape the 100 GIRLS and go to the beach for a party!  Goa is wonderful—it is like being in Brazil or Costa Rica.  I would like to go back—but I have other places to jaunt off too! But the joys of Goa faded fast when I got on the bus to return home from Delhi- 24 hours of sitting on a bus (3 to be exact) is far from enjoyable— hours and hours and hours of hot dusty fields really can make your mind go very numb (but I had a good book- The Baron in Trees—about a boy who leaves his family and lives in a tree for the rest of his life and  NEVER comes back down)

In December we begin our winter vacation—and I have finally finalized, made final my plans.  We will all be given a the entire month of to do as we please.  One girl is going to Turkey another to Nepal.  I am sticking a little more close to home.  I will be in Varanasi for two weeks again learning and exploring the city (and saving a little money) and then leave to Lucknow over the 15^th with my friend Eamon (who is in LOVE with Lucknow- he lived there over the summer)  Lucknow is the capital of Shi’a Islam in India and over that weekend is Muharrem, the festival commemorating the death of Ali’s son Hussein.  It is supposed to be amazing, beyond amazing there.  People mob the streets, renting their hair and mourning the death 2000 years ago of Hussein.  A white horse walks down the street as people throng it, attempting to touch it and commune with the saint (as represented by this horse- the white horse he rode into battle).  There will be Qawwali performances (devotional song) and lots of gooooood food!  Leaving Lucknow I will arrive in Delhi hang out there for a while—hopefully finally going to see the National Gallery of Modern Art and various other galleries around town.  I then will board a 48 hour train to Kerala- God’s Green Thumb and the setting for my favorite favorite book in all the Land- The God of Small Things.

I am heading down to Kerala with a group of 10 others—friends of my really good friend Emma.  While in Delhi a month ago they were planning their trip to Kerala and I was invited along.  I will be sharing a beach house between Christmas and New Years in Kovalam.  There will be Brazilians, Frenchies, Amis, Brits, Dutchies, Germans all sharing this house together and hopefully making real merry!  I hope to also make some solo adevntures to see some very famous murals (The Mattancherry Murals that really inspired my favorite artist Amrita Sher-gil) see an all night long Kathakali dance performance, and head out into the hills and view tea plantations.  OH so so so much to do.

ajsbg;alksvbn:A

I know, I know… it has been a long time since I last wrote a blogpost---- so here goes.

I just back from maybe one of the best weekends of my life and I am off again today!  This past weekend, our program gave us a small holiday ( a three day weekend- I took 4), and I quickly quickly bought tickets so as to leave Banaras.  Where?  DELHI.

Many people in our program find little interest in Delhi, they see it as a corrupt, dusty,  sprawling, mess.  Which it is, but on my first visit I knew I would and needed to return.  Something about cities just really draws me in—the energy, the vibrancy, the amount of people, the feeling of great potential.  Banaras at 2 million people, is definitely not a city—it has the problems of an India cities, but in many ways is a large town.  Delhi is a city- and while it may not be Mexico City, Mumbai, or New York there is a lot to do!

SOoooOoOoOO-  I was invited to a wedding by my friend Emma, her Punjabi coworker was getting married.  Emma currently is doing an internship with EdTerra (more later)  living in South Delhi with a group of interns at various companies from various countries (Brasil, Italy, Moldova, Britan, Holland etc)  currently 8 people live in her apartment! 

The wedding was amazing, well amazing may not be the word—but the food was surely amazing.  I wore my finest silk kurta and pajam (newly tailored and looking fresh, aside from the saag paneer stain it received during the course of the evening)

Biryani, Naaan, Shai Paneer, Kulfi, Jalebis, soups, naans, chole—and while these may not mean anything to, and while it may all have been veg., it was hands down amazing.  I stuffed myself beyond stuffing, I felt like I was going to explode, die, vomit—but all well worth it.

I also learned an interesting tid bit- anybody can go to anybodies wedding, especially as a foreigner.  All you need is to be looking fresh and show up with a gift, no one will question you and you will be welcomed with open arms!  So put that in your back pockets.

I may be attending a Muslim Wedding in November (fingers crossed!) and at huge (1000 guests) wedding in Delhi in December!  It is nice to attend weddings and not be the catering staff there.

The next day Emma and I woke up late and just relaxed, we relaxed for a few hours eating organic porridge and listening to music.  It is really great to reconnect with her, we really have a great dynamic.  Later, after shopping, we met my friend Kash ( A real Delhi-ite) to see his friend perform in a play— Hands down the worst play EVER, ever.  I need to see a good play, I am really getting turned off by theatre.  After the play we went to a BAR, yes a BAR with Kash and his friends. We ate Mutton, yes Mutton.  We bought FISH SAUCE and CHEESE (gouda, parmesan, mozzarella), yes FISH SAUCE and CHEESE (gouda, parmesan, mozzarella).  All of this and more from one of Asia’s most expensive retail destinations: Khan Market.  A Market filled with foreign groceries, book stores, clothing stores, restaurants etc etc etc.  We had a great time and met really great people (it really felt like being back home, or better a really posh place in New York or Europue!)  After that we went to a PARTY, yes a PARTY.  We drank ALCOHOL, yes ALCOHOL.  We got home at 4 am, yes 4 am.  I was ecstatic.

BUT HANDS DOWN THE BEST PART OF THE WEEKEND:  on Sunday we went to Kash’s sister’s house in Gurgaon ( an extremely rich enclave South of Delhi—Guragoan a complex of mansions, Asia’s largest Mall, sky rises, and SUVs— it is both repulsive and decadent, but so appealing) 

This house, his sister’s second home, her Delhi home, is filled with the latest in Siemen’s appliances, glass fronted Malibu-like, decked out with a pool ( A POOL) a sauna, a stema bath, a movie theatre, and a hrassy garden terrace.  It was unbelievable.  And mind you this is her and her husband’s second home, the other in Punjab is five times bigger.  We swam, we swam, we swam.  Oh how wonderful.  It was bizarre and amazing.

But oh ho ho ho how the mighty fall. And they fall hard.  Leaving on Monday I boared the wrong train bound to Varanasi, and while I was able to get home in time for class, I had no reserved berth.  For a few hours before, arriving in Moradabad, I was contently reading in an open berth, however with an influx people, I was promptly expelled and left to fend for myself at midnight, as a ticketless passenger on a full train.  I roamed the corriders looking for empty beds, alas.  In the end, degraded and defeated, I was forced to curl up, on a sheet, outside of the bathroom, on the ground, my head on my suitcase.  It is an experience I hope to avoid at all costs.  But by Lucknow, when people left I got a berth.  It must have looked all very funny a white boy, kurta’d and pajama’d curled up outside the bathroom sleeping much like the poor Indian’s around me.

OKAY and now for the very exciting news, news which I have only known about for two days! 

At the wedding I met the owner of Emma’s company, EdTerra, and we got along famously.  While chatting he insisted I join them on one of their company trips, and while he was adamant, I was unsure how genuine the extension was. Well…. Well before that let me fill you in.

EdTerra is a company which designs educational tours for Indian students.  These tours are met to complement the curriculum offered at their home schools (Woodstock School Mussoorie International School, and other private wealthy schools)  So they offer tours from weekend excursions to Rajasthan all the way to 10- 15 package tours in Bangkok, China, Nairobi, etc. 

So I get a frantic facebook message from Emma saying I need to call her.  I do and I am greeted with, “They want to send you to Goa!”  I was floored.  Goa, the former Portuguese colony, now Indian beach paradise.  I am leaving back to Delhi (having been back in Banaras for 2 days) to fly out to Goa for 10 days to lead an educational tour for 100 11^th grade girls from the Mussoorie International School.  I am very very very excited and extremely lucky!  And all expenses are paid!  WOW 

Cycle

The funniest thing happened the other day.  A group of us decided to go out to dinner on Thursday to this really hip Euro restaurant I stumbled upon on one of my walks.  It was tucked away on a side alley that opened up onto a quiet ghat.  You walk upstairs to a restaurant that could be in Ibiza, capri, or Mykanos.  It was very surprising and very hip.  The food: pumpkin raviolis and sage butter sauces, Thai curries, Caprese salads-- all very unexpected and the waits all very cute.  It was like being at home.
So we decied to go out for the night and we would all dress up in our finest Indian attire.  I wore a dhotis, kurtas, salwaar kameez and saris.  As we were leaving the house another girl turned up, resplendent in her new sari.
She, without a bike, had to sit on the back of mine, while I carted her down the street.  What made this funny was not the ensuing balancing act and simultaneous  navigation between life and death.  But the fact that a tall (lumbu) white boy (gora) in a white dhoti and kurta, was carting around (in true Indian style) a woman in a sari, except this time the woman was a 20 year old blond from Amherst in a pink and green sari.  We received a lot of attention.  Banaras is now my home fo sho

Nya Makan (New House)

I have moved.  I have moved to a wonderful new home.  A home.  My first place where I actually feel at home, of course excluding my Rockford home.
It happened by chance that I saw a sheet detailing a room for rent and I inquired about possible other rooms and this place revealed itself to me!

Before yesterday I was living in an extremley comfortable middle class home with courtyard (soon to be paved in marble) with a housekeeper and a maid.  I had a clean and large room.  I had peace and quiet.  I had a wonderful kitchen.  I had filtered water

Today I live in a third floor walk up.  I have the space for a kitchen but no utensils, stove, gas, nor food.  I share a bathroom with four other people.  I am woken up by the clang of temple bells at 7 in the morning.  My room is small and dingy, but clean.

Why would I do this, you may ask (the thought has yet to cross my mind-- this place is to perfect).  The courtyard house, while beautiful, cut me off to India.  Daily I would forget I was India.  I was in a bubble and if I continued to stay there I would never see Varanasi as my home.  I felt like a guest (the Indian term is Paying Guest) and I felt like the space was never mine.

This new house is immediately on the ghat, the river flows right past the house and I am literally fifteen seconds from the stairs leading to the Ganga.  The house is ringed in by temples and is in the middle of a tangled artery of lanes.  I have left the periphery, the comfort of my bubble, for this wonderful new experience.  This switch is not some type of ironic slumming, or some romantic fantastic foray into poverty.  No instead it is an attempt to integrate my self more fully into my Indian life, to never forget I am in India, and to really try something new and different.  But of course it is all very romantic.

I feel so much at home.  Banaras is my home in a way no city has ever been (well maybe Abensberg and Rockford)

Home Sweet Home

SO, so , so… back from Mussorie!  For two weeks I have dreaded coming back to Banaras- the heat, the crowds, the sounds really are overwhelming- however I am extremely happy to finally be home.  It is not the greatest living in a hotel room for two weeks with another person.  It is nice to be back in my room.  I am starting a photbucket account (so pictures can be seen).

Mussorie was so amazing and wonderful respite from the plains.  It as I have said before was cold and foggy.  Cloud cover and rain could descend at any moment, and somedays we were all stuck for hours in the hotel waiting for the freezing rain to pass. 

My Hindi has become perceptibly better and everyday I learn more.  I am amazed by the amount I can understand now!  It took me three months to get this far in German—I am so excited come April when I am really confident with my Hindi (practice practice practice).

What was great about Mussoorie was to be surrounded by people and to always have company- our group really began forming a great dynamic.  We bonded over our shared intense sexual frustration, our Hindi, our interest in India, our love of sweets chai momos samosas and Kasmiri embroidery.  What to was great about Mussoorie was our everyday interactions with locals, how two weeks there we recognized shop keepers and people on the street.  I loved how routine and relaxed our lives became in Mussoorie.  I too loved the beauty of the place—the stunning mountain views, the sunlight, the crisp air, the fog.  I loved how green and how blue the place was- a stark difference from the brown, red , and yellows of Banaras.

To reach home it required a 32 hour train ride.  The normal 24 hour ride was extended due to the spectral fear of riot in Lucknow and other Uttar Pradeshi cities regarding the Ayodhya Court decision

(Several years ago in the early nineties (?) Hindu fundamentalist razed a Mughali Mosque The Babri masjid claiming the mosque stood upon and desecrated the birthplace of the Lord Ram- a Hindu deity and avatar of the god Vishnu.  The destruction of the Babri Masjid sparked intense communal violence much of it directed against Muslims in Muslim ghettos in big cities -Mumbai, Lucknow, Delhi- by Hindu fundamentalist groups under the auspices of the Shiv Sena and political party of the BJP- a right wing conservative group espousing a HINDU INDIA. Now the case has come to trial about which religion the space belongs to.  And the verdict came out the day of train trip home—thus the delay.  We were safe no fears and the judgment very fair).

Mountain Hat

I got a mountain hat!

Chai Chai Chai

I shall now describe two separate moments in Mussoorie that I have fallen in love with and really emphasize the charm of this town of 35,000 people (remember Banaras holds over 2,000,000). 

Everyday I, often accompanied by others, leave the hotel for a few hours to wander around the town (the Mall, the allies built into the hillside, the numerous interlinking staircases, the woods) invariably we end up at the Mussoorie Sweet Shop.  The Mussoorie Sweet Shop is built into a corner, open on two sides cluttered with tables and benches, a counter selling samosas and sweets, and three employees.  Everyday we drink chai there, sometimes several times a day.  There chai is 7 ruppees a cup, perfectly sweet, perfectly spiced, and always freshly made.  They also sell some of the best Samosas I have ever had, and delicious hot milk with cardamom, dates, and almonds.  It is this Mussoorie Sweet Shop that makes me feel so at home.

The next place we found on one of our treks through town, into the northern Landor Bazaar.  This little café, hidden in ally we spied and vowed to return.  What we expected to be a place selling chai, samosas, and gulab juman, turned out instead to sell Swedish Pancakes, Chicken Pesto Pasta, Momos, Oatmeal Raisin cookies, and delicious mint tea.  The space is the size of my brother’s room (pretty tiny) and is surrounded by windows. It I warm and you can look out over the street below, and remain entirely hidden from street life.  What a wonder!

Oh also Mussoorie is filled to the brim with the most beautiful Kashmiri embroidery on pashmina scarves n’ shawls n’ silk cotton wool fabrics.  So ladies place your orders ;) I bought a grey wool shawl for 150 rupees (XE.com)

Oh the Abode of the GODS

Mussoorie.  It seems that for all of us, or at least most of us, Mussoorie is a paradise.  It is hands down I think one of the most picturesque places I have ever been.  When placed into comparison with Banaras, it seems we are on the opposite side of the world.

To begin Mussorrie is cold.  It is covered in swirling mist, it is wet, its weather is entirely and totally unpredictable, which is why this place draws me so.  At any moment throughout the day one can be caught in a rainstorm that rivals biblical proportions.  And while the threat of rain hangs over our head daily, hourly, at any moment the sun can come out to illuminate the valley in the most glorious glow.  I think the best way to explain this (I was unfortunately without a camera yesterday) was while walking along the Mall (Mussoorie’s mostly pedestrian thoroughfare) the cold’s parted as the sun began to set and it was as if I were looking a the unfolding of a baroque painting.  It seemed as if the valley had become a cauldron as mist and fog and cloud slowly spread and the clouds already stationed in the sky reflected the numinous colors of the setting sun.  The sun shot through the clouds in sweeping rays, and everywhere you looked a new composition presented it self—these clouds here are extremely expressive.  As golden sun streamed from behind the mountain, the clouds framing a central point, it really looked as if Jesus Christ could at any moment appear.  It was wild. And then it rained.

We are staying at the Shiva Continental hotel, which is built into the hillside.  We are still doing the requisite 4 hours of Hindi a day, except now Virendra makes a point of forcing us to interact with Hindi speakers, which is great, even though embarrassing.  The other day while walkingI stumbled upon Virendraji and Craig holding Hindi practice in a chai shop.  I dropped in and thus began our whirlwind adventure back home interacting with local shopkeepers and Mussoorie-ites.  Both in broken Hindi spoke to the laundryman, the chaiboy, the phototakingman, the englishwineshopman, the localliquorsellingman, the barber (who I got my first straight razor shave from the next day. AWESOME and my skin is so soft now) thefruitsellingman, etc etc.  Each situation that presents itself Virendra thinks up new and fantastic ways to simultaneously embarrass us and teach us Hindi.  He is a great teacher, and maybe one of the funniest men I have ever met.

What is amazing about Mussoorie is I immediately feel at home.  I feel comfortable and I want to stay here forever.  I never thought I would crave the cold weather, but what it really does it makes me cherish things more.  Could that sound anymore sentimental?  The smells here and the sounds do not accost you instead they complement your memories and form new ones.  The place makes me appreciate warmth, and hot tea, and fires, and sweaters, oh and of course puppies, and chocolate, and daffodils, and big hugs from grandma, and kisses from Santa Claus.

But, here you will catch glimpses of life behind glass, with fires and heaters, and warming curries and you really fall in love.  Mussoorie is like Europe, like Austria, but way better.  It is cheaper.  It is filled with Indians.  It is filled with Indian food.  But hanging about it is a sense of European nostalgia.  Also in Mussoorie I can begin to blend in because here there is such intense mixture of cultures: Nepali, Bengali, South India, Tibetan, Chinese, Kashmiri, Afghani, Central Asian.  It is an amazing confluence of cultures and it is has taken my heart.

MUSSOORIE

On Monday we leave to Mussoorie, and I cannot cannot cannot wait!  I don't know if I have ever been so excited to go anywhere in my life!  Why? Why am I more excited to go to Mussoorrie then I eve was to come to India?  Why?  Well I will tell you.


Currently for the last 3 weeks India has been 90+ degrees everyday.  Everyday you smell of sweat and dust, of dirt, 'that unwashed academic smell of dirty hair, leftover food, dirty cups, and stale stale air."  I am sure you have smelled that smell, and if not I hope you never do.  Everyday you sweat through at least two undershirts, you, who in America never sweat.  Everyday you are simultaneously baked, broiled, and fried under the intensity of the Gangetic Plain Sun.


That is why I am excited to go to Mussoorie!  Mussoorie is in the state of Uttarnachal, in the foot hills of the Himalayas.  It was once the playground of the British Raj, who, like us, retreated in the heat of the summer to the hills.  Apparently in those days Mussorie was the favorite place for bored colonial sahibs to conduct illicit sexual affairs!  Now it is a favorite haunting ground of Indian honeymooners!


We will stay 2 weeks in Mussoorie, where everyday we will work, for 4 hrs, on our Hindi!  Apparently by the end of the two weeks we will be very good at Hindi, or at least that is what I hope.


The train ride to Mussoorie will be  a twenty- four hour affair, as well as a bus ride from Dhera Dhun, but I will gladly endure that in exchange for sweaters, and mist shrouded hills, and cold nights!!!  I have never craved the cold as I do right now! 


This is Mussoorie....

And this is Banaras

Also it must be admitted that both are pretty accurate exaggerations 

PICTURES

Routine

I guess I haven't really filled anybody in on WHAT I am doing in India and what my daily experiences are here.  So here goes.......

I am here in Banaras with the Wisconsin College Year in India Program, and for all its faults (its utter lack of organization) I am grateful to be doing this through them.  Wisconsin's South Asia Program is truly amazing and very supportive and very interested in us children.  This program has been around since the 1960s and many of the people who are luminaries in the field of South Asian Studies participated in this program.

The way it is broken down is you (or me) take Hindi class everyday for 4 hrs a day.  You meet at 9 am at the Program House- the house maintained by the program for the student's participating- and begin Hindi after a continental breakfast of muesli, cornflakes, porridge, and nutella on toast.
The Program House is where almost all activity occurs.  We have some computers here, and wireless.  There is a library filled with books about India! We share our meals here (lunch and breakfast).  Our laundry is delivered here. Our days are whiled away within the house.  Only one room has air-conditioning- I try to avoid it, even though I am sitting in it right now.

Besides Hindi we partake in Tutorials, which we have to have 45 contact hours a semester with our tutorial advisor.  A tutorial is a lesson in India culture and society: Sanskrit, Urdu, Kathak and Bharatnatyam dances, silk weaving, yoga, minature painting, astrology, ceramics.  I am learning this semester who to weave silk.  At the semesters end I have to write a 20 page paper detailing the silk making process, its history and evolution, and my own analysis on the trade and art.

I have meet with my advisor, Saleem, and have already spent TWO whole hours weaving silk on a pit loom in warren of lanes in the center of the city.  Saleem lives in a one room brick house. Half his house is taken up by the large pit loom and the other half holds a cot, a series of locked suitcases, a radio, and daily utensils.  His house has a huge open window that is covered by a shutter, when open it fills the room with light and breeze.

The main academic point however of the program is not the tutorials and maybe not even Hindi.  The purpose of the program is to prepare students for later academic writing. Throughout the course of the year we work on a field research project that we design and implement ourselves regarding any topic of Banarasi life.  It is our job to research and interview, read and write, explore and understand India and Banaras.

MY RESEARCH: In Banaras throughout the course of 20th century there have been around 20 cinema halls that have daily played popular Bollywood favorites to Banarasis.  These cinema halls have been important institutions in Banaras city life.  Within the halls of these theaters are the collective memories of generations and possibly even an understanding of India itself ( a little dramatic, but hey it is cinema).  However, with the advent of the multiplex these old time theaters have shut down, left to fall into disrepair.  Multiplexes appeal to the new urban young middle class, spaces of cool airconditioned luxury.  A rarified space of money and privilege.  For many Banarasis the multiplex is beyond their means and effectively cut the masses out of popular entertainment.  Because of the multiplex only 3 old time theaters remain, thus really affecting the local economy.  Each cinema hall employs around 12 people, which means 12 families at each hall being supported.  That has effectively been ended.  I think this problem speaks a lot about the direction Indian society is headed, what it represents, and the message it portrays.  This is all very nascent, but it has never been done by a student with the Program-- so it looks like I am Trailblazer baby!

MY HOME: I live with 2 other guys Max and Craig in the house of a wealthy older woman named Mrs. Dwivedi.  Dwivedi spends her time in both Delhi and Banaras and rents out the bottom floor of her house to Wisconsin students.  There are 4 rooms around a central courtyard garden.  There is a communal kitchen.  There is covered veranda where there are some wooden chairs and couch, as well as a dinning table.  There is a common room, tastefully decorated with a TV and filled with books.  Currently the house is under construction, but will soon be finished-- allowing the dust to settle and my uber early mornings to maybe cease.  Over break the entire courtyard will be paved in marble and she will be putting down a mat in the central "garden" for Max to practice sitar and Craig to do yoga.  Her mother is 106.

i like my room. i like india. india is crowded. india is overwhelming. my room is quiet. i read in my room. sometimes when i am in my room i forget i am in india. that is strange to be remined that i am living in india. it is strange but i like it. outside my window are dogs and cows and goats and a lot of people. it  

Tulsi Ghat

Yesterday was a great day, it reminded me why I love India and how happy and lucky I am to be here.  Well first off the weather was AMAZING, it was maybe at its peak 80, but overcast and with a breeze all day so it was pretty cool!  Hopefully this continues.

Also I stumbled on the most amazing place- it is by no means secret but it is extremely peaceful.  Peace is at a premium in this city.  So you go down this warren of lanes, it seems like that will be a common phrase throughout this year, a warren of lanes, and suddenly you are met with a dead end.  This shocking blue building stands in between you and the river and as you walk towards it the river does not reveal herself ( the Ganges is a female goddess), suddenly, however, it opens up, to the side of your vision, in this huge expansive panorama of Ganga Ma flowing past and the green banks opposite.

The ghat is extraordinarily steep and quiet.  People go there not for  ceremony it seems, but to silently reflect, to do laundry, and to swim.  It really was so achingly gorgeous.  It really was what I needed.  When  you Grandma come to Banaras I will be sure to show you!

Last Night

Last night was by far hands down one of the most miserable night of my life.

  I am sorry if there has been so much complaining of late, but India is truly a country that eats you alive and shits you out anew.  Currently we are all sick or weak or exhausted or dehydrated.  But while I have had some bad nights here in the past, this one without a doubt takes the cake.

It started off great.  I was on the mend, and would argue still am, and we met at Hotel Haifa for a classical dance performance of Kathak, which was truly beautiful!  The dance involves a complex series of gestures and movements all to the rhythms of the tabla (Indian drum), sitar, and harmonium (that which lays the base of rhythm).  Following the 45 minute performance and its riot of color, movement, symbol, and vibrancy, we ate a small meal together at the hotel.  By 9.30 I was exhausted and headed home off to bed.  I slept soundly for 3 to 4 hours, until suddenly I violently awoke.  It was not another case of grumbling bowels or overwhelming nausea.  Instead the electricity had gone out and with it my FAN.

I was instantaneously lying in a pool of my own sweat, the heat like jell- or marshmallow fluff in the air.  Literally gasping for air I tried every switch possible, hoping the turn back on the fan.  It would not work until...... I am not sure if it is even working right now.

My room was like a sauna.  A sauna filled with old gym clothes, the smell of damp, the feeling of damp revolting.  I tried to read to while away the hours, until at around 3.30 I settled on a movie.  That movie "Away we Go" was a great 2 hours well spent.  By the time 5.00 hit there was no chance of going to sleep again-- Banaras had begun to wake up and right outside my window a huge dog fight ensued.

It was the worst worst worst night ever. period. and i hope never to relive it.


"What can't be cured must be endured," but it really makes you start questioning things doesn't it :)

Sounds

The best was to describe India is not in her sights (which admittedly are aweing) nor in her smells (overpowering) but in her Sounds.  I have never in my 20 years been somewhere where there are so many sounds.  At any given time you have temple bells claniking in praise of any number of gods, you have muslim calls to prayer, you have the screams of street children playing in garbage, you have the cacophony of thousands and thousands of bells and horns.  While in America we use our horns to drawn attention to danger or to assert ourself occasioanlly, Indians use their horns at all times, for any reason, to let their prescene be known.  The only times sounds stop is around 3 in the morning.  It can be very draining (especially when you are sick and right outside your window at 11.00pm construction work begins) but it makes for a reall exciting place

Bleeehhh

So India has kicked my ass.  Kicked my ass and it is not fun.  It makes me homesick.  I was told culture shock will hit you the first two weeks in and it will dissapate after a month.  It has begun, culture shock has set in.  we have all begun to complain about this great country.  I am still in love I am however just pissed off, weak, dehydrated, crouching over a toilet, and having a restless sleep. 

It all began two days ago when we wandered the back allies of centrral Banaras, which was so cool-- they unfold forever and are very much like a spireweb in all the directions they go.  Every space is packed with a shop the size of a closet and in some places you are forced to walk im single file.  The whole day I had spent laying and reading in the program house. and to be assualted with so many sights and SOUNDS after such peace was assualting.  Upon returning I slept for two hours and after that I got sick. 
I want jump in a swimming pool (something we will do this weekend- we can spend 5 bucks and have accsess to a pool all day at a nice hotel) or go to the queitest lake in the world.

Now that that is done....

What have I been up to?
Everything and Nothing.  I arrived on the 20th lost track of time, thought Friday was Saturday and became hopelessly lost.  But you can never be lost, you can only be misplaced. Several times I have become lost and rather then panic I just continue to become more and more misplaced.  I have been in Banaras for 2 days so far and it is entirely different the Delhi.  It is more India, more loud, more dirty, more chaotic, more jumbled, more confusing, and more better.  Actually my balcony overlooks the small garden of a temple-- my drying clothes pay homage to Lord Shiva all day! 
Being in India is like being forced to look at millions of pictures being flashed before your eyes at high speed, at speed speed or coke speed.  There is so much to see and only two eyes with which to see everything.
I have found a house, an awesome flat that over looks a little garden.  My friend Max and I will be sharing not a room but two rooms out of four of a central courtyard.  It has a squat toilet ( a toilet that is way better then its America counterpart) there is a shared kitchen, a lovely common area, it is quiet clean (a maid and a bathroom cleaner comes every week to tidy up) and is in the middle of EVERYTHING.  I wish you could see it.  I wish you all could see this place.
I don't even know how to describe this, when I download my pictures you will begin to see.

Thoughts on India

India. India. India.  It is funny becasue when we say the name a totally different image from reality comes to mind, a twofold image.  On one hand INDIA comes to means opulence, splendor, the terrible mystery of the Orient.  We think of the Taj Mahal and lavish saris.  We think of incense and carpets and harems.  We think of sadhu and mystery.  One the opposite hand we think of grinding abject poverty.  Starving children and emaciated mothers.  And while the actual India (Bharat) may be close to the later then the former, to understand India as a cesspit of human misery is a an egregious error.

I have only been here a week, but it feels like it has been forever.  I feel immediately at home.  I feel safe and a I feel happy and I feel pregnant with possibility.  This country far from being the "armpit of the world," is by far the most amazing and exciting place I have ever been in.  Walking across the street becomes a fight for one's life (hyperbole) and the crush of humans, animals, bikes, rickshaws, cars, buses etc can, at times be extremely overwhelming.  But I think it beyond AWESOME. 

There is far more to India then meets the eye and maybe it is that I am callow and can't see the true sadness of this place, but I have not been phased by the poverty or the filth or the smells or the Crush.  I look at it as an inevitable part of Indian society, of life.  I find it pointless to dwell on the sadness of the situation, because pity breeds only stagnation.  Instead I focus on the energy and vibrancy of life here.  I love this country.  This country on crack.  This "Wounded Civilization."