Diarrhea Diwali

Recently I have, unfortunately, been a victim of explosive diarrhea. Whatever, it's India, that happens. I had the following Hindlish conversation with my Hindi teacher:

Teacher: आपकी तबीयत कैसी है? / How is your health?

Me: आज... बहुत अच्छी नहीं | / Today... not so good.

Teacher: क्यों? क्या हुआ? / Why? What happened?

Me: हिन्दी में "explosive diarrhea" का मतलब क्या हैं? / What is the meaning of "explosive diarrhea" in Hindi?

Teacher: हम "explosive diarrhea" नहीं कहते हैं | Diarrhea का मतलब "दस्त" है | / We don't say "explosive diarrhea." The meaning of diarrhea is "dast."

Me: लेकिन मैं "explosive" कहना चाहती हूँ | यह साधारण दस्त नहीं था | / But I want to say explosive. This was no ordinary diarrhea.*

Teacher: ठीक है | आप "ब्लास्ट" कह सकती हैं | / Ok, you can say "blast."

Me: दस्त का ब्लास्ट? / Diarrhea blast?

Teacher, laughing: हाँ जी | तो क्या आपने दवा ली? / Yes ji. So did you take medicine? ("take medicine" = "davaa li")

Me: Diwali? DIARRHEA DIWALI?! BAHAHAHAHAHA

Teacher, laughing: I was asking if you took medicine.

Me: OOOHH, DAVAA LI!! BAHAHAHAHA

Teacher: आपको कभी कभी ज़्यादा ध्यान देनी की ज़रूरत है | / You need to pay more attention sometimes.

Me, still doubled over in laughter: माफ़ कीजिये | दस्त के ब्लास्ट मेरे मन में थे | ब्लास्ट | दिवाली | समझ गए? समझ गए?! / I'm sorry. Diarrhea blasts were on my mind. Blasts. Diwali. Get it? Get it?!

Teacher: समझ गया | It was Diwali in your toilet. / I get it. It was Diwali in your toilet.

Me: YES. YES IT WAS.

Further research has revealed to me that "explosive" in Hindi is विस्फोटक, "visphotak." So explosive diarrhea would be "visphotak dast." But I kinda prefer the ring of "dast ka blaast." Either way, these are not not the most useful phrases I've ever learned in Hindi.

*Explosive diarrhea is, arguably, ordinary diarrhea in India.

Moti Me vs. Waif Kaif

My friend Molly recently wrote a great blog post about body image in Nepal. Check it out here. I had been thinking about writing about this for a while too, so now that she's started the conversation, I'll chime in.

The other day the gym-wala complimented me on losing weight. The gym-wala said to me, in Hindi, "aapko weight loss hua!" I find this linguistically interesting because it literally translates to "weight loss happened to you!" whereas I would have translated from English "aapne weight loss kiya!" ("you did weight loss"--in English weight loss is something that we do, not something that just "happens" to us. Well ok maybe it does just happen but that's not how we would phrase it.)

What I find even more interesting is that he said "weight loss" in English--and this is a person who could not hold a conversation in English. There actually is a way to say this in Hindi ("vajan kam ho jana" = "to reduce weight"), but he chose the English. Often (but definitely not always), phrases borrowed from English are for concepts that are new to India and thus not expressible in the local language. Computer, mobile phone, TV, etc. The fact that this man decided to use the English phrase "weight loss" to me means that weight loss, as a goal that people work towards, is a concept imported to India from the West.

How was this concept imported? My guess is through the usual vehicle: Bollywood. While Bollywood is certainly unique from Hollywood, I do think Bollywood producers look to the West, especially to the US, to see what's "cool." Bollywood then projects these Western ideals and trends not only to the 1.2 billion people of India (according to the new census) but to all of South Asia, from Pakistan to Bhutan to Sri Lanka, and arguably to audiences all over Asia Pacific.

I'm not going to go into an extended discussion about body image in India, because I think one look at Bollywood's sex symbol Katrina Kaif, often voted the "sexiest woman in Asia" (who is actually not Indian, but British and raised in the US, with one Indian parent), says it all. Or maybe you need to see her most recent song, "Sheila Ki Jawani" ("Sheila's Youth"):

You should really click on that video. Not only because of its implications about how Bollywood projects women, but because it is a fun, catchy song with a good beat (you will understand my love-hate relationship with this song--I love the music but hate the lyrics).

This song easily shows up on the filmi songs channels at least twice an hour. Autowallahs, dukans, and dhabas blare the song. You can't escape it; it's ubiquitous, and has been for months (despite the fact that its movie Tees Maar Khan was a box office bust). And the message being conveyed to Indian women on a constant basis isn't even subtle: Katrina Kaif's body is the definition of sexy, the ideal woman's body. Men are supposed to want her, and women are supposed to want to look like her.

Interesting, related fact about Kaif: she didn't speak a word of Hindi when she entered Bollywood. All of her lines were dubbed up until last year (when her Hindi finally became passable). How can an actress act without speaking? Isn't that half the job? Her entire film career is based on her looks, her fair skin and skinny body, not on any acting talent.

By the way, I don't think it's fair for Katrina to represent the Indian vision of beauty; she's half Caucasian (and her Indian half is from the fairest of Indians: Kashmiri), and without those white genes, it's really not possible for an Indian woman to ever be that light-skinned. She is, quite literally, the unattainable ideal. As the lyrics of the above song say, "I know you want it but you're never gonna get it, you're never gonna get my body." True words, right there.

Switching topics slightly: a day before I got the compliment from the gym-wala, some Indian guy commented on a picture of me and my friend Neha in her Facebook photo album, saying "u looking gud but who is this aunty wid u??" Apparently, these days not only is being overweight not sexy, but is also associated with being an "aunty," which is a whole other stereotype in itself.

Although the stereotype annoys me, I actually think being overweight has been very useful in India. I get significantly less attention from men than my thin expat friends. Men don't stare at me (as much), men don't catcall or wolf-whistle at me (as much), and I don't get any stalkers or gropers (most of the time). My belly has probably kept me safer. So being a Firangi Round-Round isn't all bad! :) But of course I don't have a wildly successful Bollywood career.

How I became a cricket fan

Two nights ago India won the Cricket World Cup Finals!!!!!!1!

...and I actually cared.

Yes, I have become (probably temporarily) a cricket fan. A fan of a sport with which I used to confuse croquet (the names are similar and both games are British, ok?).

Despite popular belief in the US, cricket is not the British Commonwealth's version of baseball (though it does appear to be played only in Commonwealth countries). It's pretty different, and perhaps smarter. Just because both sports use a bat doesn't mean they're the same. Would you say that lacrosse is the Native American version of field hockey just because both involve sticks and netted goals? Probably not.

Anyway, my first-ever cricket experience was in fall 2007, when I watched a match with Madhavan and other Pondy Uni boys. It was the T-20 World Championship, India vs. Pakistan, and India won. This was the first T-20 championship ever, I believe (T-20 means 20 overs, so the match is shorter; it's a relatively new form of the game that is much faster and more exciting to people like me who (a) don't fully understand what's going on and (b) cannot sit through an all-day sporting event). Madhavan taught me the rules of cricket, and I became acquainted with Sachin Tendulkar, MS Dhoni, and Yuvraj Singh, who was a particular beast in that tournament, and other major players. I had a blast watching the game with my friends in Kalapet's closest thing to a sports bar, and then the whole country literally had a blast--or rather, thousands of blasts--when they celebrated with fireworks (their usual M.O.). I even bought a commemorative poster of the winning team.

Admittedly, I never watched a cricket match since then. I securely stored that game and my newly-acquired cricket knowledge in my Pondy Uni memory bank and hung the poster on my dorm wall, and went back to enjoying the American sports I grew up playing and watching. I did try to go to an Indian Premier League (IPL) game in Delhi with Alice, but, uh, that didn't end so well and we missed the game.

I neglected the sport for another eleven months, until this year's World Cup tournament, when the excitement was impossible to ignore.

I have become a fan of cricket because of the way the sport brings people together, at least in India. I can't think of any sport that could bring Americans together the way cricket has brought Indians together. Every single Indian, at home and abroad, was cheering for the cricket team in this World Cup. Do Americans, as an entire nation, ever rally around one team? Half the country doesn't pay attention to the Olympics, and those who do are all watching different sports. When Americans watch the soccer/football World Cup, they are cheering for a variety of teams, including European and Latin American teams. Few people seem to seriously care about the US soccer team. (This is actually one of my pet peeves: Americans who never care about soccer until all of a sudden "omg Portugal!!" and it's like um 1. you never watch soccer in the four-year span of time between World Cups and 2. you're not even cheering for your own country, or maybe you are but really you act like you care more about other teams.*) I guess the closest example of when Americans banded together around a sport was the 1980 Olympic hockey final against Russia, but honestly I suspect that the movie "Miracle" dramatized the reality (hockey is one of the less popular sports in the US, and as my mom says, she and her friends didn't even bother to watch the game). Basically, I can't think of any single global sports tournament in which the entire American population feels heavily invested.

Walking down the street during the India-Pakistan semifinal match was like walking through a real-life movie. (I didn't watch the entire match because I just can't watch cricket for 8 hours. I'm not quite there yet.) Half the businesses were closed because the owners were at home watching the game, and the other half that were open had brought a TV into their shops, and small crowds had gathered to watch. The subzi- and phal-wale (vegetable and fruit salesmen) at a street corner near my favorite cafe were all huddled around a small black-and-white TV that had somehow been connected outdoors. Rickshaw-wale (rickshaw drivers) were also huddled around their own tiny outdoor TV. Every pair of eyes and/or ears (some people only have radios) in India was glued to the match. Whenever there was a big play, a collective "wooo!" of excitement or "aaah" of disappointment, an aggregated sound coming from all voices in the country simultaneously, could be heard, sometimes along with dholak (drum) beats.

The millisecond the Ind-Pak game ended with an Indian victory, the entire country erupted in celebration. Immediately, people flooded the streets to light firecrackers, like Diwali to the extreme. An entire nation was partying together.

This was all repeated during the India-Sri Lanka final two days ago. After Dhoni hit the final 6, I partook in the festivities, racing out to the streets of Varanasi with my host family to ignite firecrackers. That these matches took place on Indian soil (semifinals in Mohali near Chandigarh, finals in Mumbai) makes the wins even more special.

I find something simply magical about all this. It's more than about cricket. It's about spirit, about pride in one's country. Say what you will about Indians, they are a proud bunch of people. (It's also about politics, especially against Pakistan. In general, Indians have a love-hate relationship with their politics, but no matter if they're loving or hating, they're addicted.)

Something else I have found very interesting is the reaction on Facebook. Foreign-born South Asians are exclaiming excitement via their statuses just as much as South Asian-born South Asians (at least among my group of Facebook friends). I find this interesting because I didn't expect Indian-Americans to be following the Cricket World Cup. After all, does cricket even air on TV in the US? Is there even a cricket Little League? When and how would these Americans have become familiar with the sport? I would have assumed that because they grew up in the US they would be more interested in American sports (and maybe many of them are more interested in basketball or football than they are in cricket), but I'm pleasantly surprised to find that many of them are just as interested in a decidedly non-American sport.

The fact that they are following cricket means that they must have grown up watching cricket with their fathers, who probably watch cricket as one of several means to stay connected to the motherland. I'm sure that Indian parents struggle to raise their children in America according to Indian values and culture, but one thing many of them have been successful at is instilling a love of cricket, in a culture where cricket doesn't even exist. This cricket victory was important to more than Indian-born Indians. It was important to the Indian diaspora as well, to the entire Indian people. (What, exactly, is this importance? I'll leave that analysis to the NYTimes. See here.)

Now for a nice little story to end this ridiculously long post (sorry for the length!):

Yesterday morning, as I was taking a rickshaw to my Hindi class, I passed a parade of green, white, and orange face-painted people carrying a homemade styrofoam-and-glitter replica of the World Cup trophy, waving Indian flags of all sizes, dancing to the song "Chak De India" accompanied by dholak players, and lighting firecrackers. As this parade winded through the galiyaan (alleys) of Varanasi, the crowd would grow ever larger, with more and more people from all castes and classes dancing together around the poorly-but-very-lovingly-constructed trophy.

When I saw this parade, I did the most unexpected thing: I started crying. Not just crying. SOBBING. The rickshaw-wallah stopped and looked at me to check if everything was ok. I was fine, I insisted. But I wasn't. I was crying because it suddenly hit me that I'm actually leaving India in a few months. I don't know why seeing this parade triggered that realization, but as a result I was a mess all day yesterday. I just can't handle leaving this country. Another reason for my tears was that this makeshift trophy brought back memories of home. This was something I could see my brother Ben doing when he was young. Seven-year-old Ben absolutely would have made some little Stanley Cup trophy and trotted around the house with it in a Capitals jersey (he didn't actually do this, but he did several similar things, such as making himself a Chicago Bulls NBA championship ring. Kids can be adorable). So while the parade made me sad that I was leaving India, it also made me realize how homesick I am. Opposite and confusing emotions, I know.

Unfortunately I don't have any pictures because, well, I suck. I don't take my camera with me when I walk around Varanasi. Fail. However, you can enjoy this picture I stole from AP:

Indians celebrate with fireworks in the streets.

*You could say this applies to me re: cricket and India. However, the US does not have a cricket team that plays at World Cup level (Molly informs me the US has a cricket team, mostly comprised of South Asian immigrants, but they can't compete at a high level). If it did, obviously I would cheer for the US. Also, I have been living in India for two years and I believe that gives me sufficient ties to be an India fan. If you're an American who cheers for another country in the soccer/football World Cup because you spent some time there or have other connections, then you do not fall into the category of people who bother me and I apologize if I have offended you.

Go away, geckos!

There are 8 geckos in my bathroom. One is on the light switch so that I am forced to pee in the dark. And I have a squat toilet, so light is particularly important.

Also, another gecko just fell from the ceiling and landed on my bed. Not on me this time, but clearly this was an intended attack. If not an attack on my person, then an attack on my sense of safety and as a result, my sanity.

Furthermore, that other gecko still hasn't left my mirror. I know he's not dead because (1) he'd probably fall to the ground and (2) I've seen him move around. But only on the mirror.

And did you ever notice that geckos have CLAWS?! I noticed yesterday that they have sharp cat-like nail-claws extending from their toes. I didn't know lizards had friggin' claws. Think of the damage these creatures could do to me in my sleep!!

These geckos are evil incarnate.

Unrelated miscellany

Today I started taking tabla lessons from a guy who makes tablas for Zakir Hussein! Being a good tabla maker doesn't necessarily translate into being a good tabla player/teacher, but I think the photos of him jamming with Zakir on his wall are pretty friggin' sweet.

How did this happen? I had free time yesterday and was aimlessly wandering through some galiyaan (tiny alleyways). (Varanasi has a whole web of these galiyaan and it's fun to get lost in the maze.) As I was walking back toward the main road, I randomly stumbled upon a tabla-making workshop.

Unexpectedly, I ended up spending two hours in the tiny shop. We sat on the floor among half-made tablas and assorted tabla parts as the owner explained, in a mix of Hindi and English, the process of making a tabla. His two apprentices showed me how it's done, and then we all chatted some more about the shopowner's tabla-playing and -making history over chai. The owner's family has been in the tabla-making business for generations, since his father's father's father's father's father's father's to-the-infinitieth-power father's father. After chai, they let me hit the drums a bit!

applying ground iron ore to the center of the tabla

I really enjoyed the atmosphere of the workshop and have always secretly wanted to learn to play some percussion instrument. So, despite my utter lack of musical talent, I signed up for tabla lessons! And here we are.

*******

Today I was supposed to go to Ramnagar Fort, across the Ganges from Varanasi, with Surabhi, one of my new Benaras Hindu University (BHU) friends. However, she had to cancel because all the students are protesting the mess (cafeteria) food and obviously she had to be there.

Aaahh, deja vu. When I spent a semester at Pondicherry University, the students there protested the mess food as well. Guess that's pretty common here in India! But I'm fairly certain the administration ignored them and nothing came of the protests. Fun times. Hopefully the BHU students will have better luck.

*******

A few more reasons to love Pyaar Kii Ye Ek Kahaani, or PKYEK, as it is affectionally called:

11. The sound effects that accompany facial expressions. For example, when someone has an epiphany, the "ah-ha!" face is supplemented with a spring-like "boing!" sound. And crushing disappointment, such as when the boy you like asks out your worst enemy to prom, comes with a car crash noise. Each face has its own distinct sound, of course.

12. The echoing voiceover when characters are thinking. When the characters are thinking, not only do their faces contort in all sorts of strange ways I didn't previously know were humanly possible, the thought voiceover echoes. "Mujhe-jhe-jhe asha-sha-sha hai-hai-hai ki-ki-ki voh-voh-voh mujhe-jhe-jhe prom-prom-prom le-le-le jaaega-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga." ("I hope that he will take me to prom.")

13. The occurrence of prom during college. That's just... incorrect. I would say it's an Indian thing to have prom in college instead of high school, but I've actually never heard of a prom happening at all in India. And I would find it surprising if a college administration allowed such an event. The show is trying to adopt a classic element of American teenage dramas, but it's all wrong! But it almost doesn't matter, because they do it so much better than those American shows and movies.

14. The 70's theme of prom night. It is unfortunate that the PKYEK website doesn't have any good pictures of this episode, because I want to show you the boys' bitchin' costumes. Only three words can describe their attire: stereotypical flaming homosexual. One character actually is gay, and he was the one who chose the 70's costumes for the others (who do not know that he's समलैंगिक ("samalaingik"/gay); I think they must be blind and deaf). And he did excellent work, because my god do these people come off as overly-flamboyant caricatures of gay disco men (and their little dance number at prom only reinforces this image). Also, one was dressed up as Elvis.

PKYEK is the best thing to happen to television. Ever. In the entire history of television.

*******

Geckos are my newest enemy. Not only did one of them face-plant me (in that he planted himself on my face, not that he fell onto his own face), they are all over my room and bathroom and always in the way. One hasn't removed himself from my mirror for the past two days so I can't examine the post-Holi damage (my pores are so clogged with Holi colors that I now have purple- and greenheads).

Sushma and I clog each other's pores during Holi.

I think the entire animal kingdom is conspiring against me. Except the elephants. They still love me.

Look at this elephant's happy face! If this isn't unadulterated love, then I don't know what is. But I'll tell you which creatures don't know how to love: monkeys and geckos. Heartless bastards.

*******

It is possible for women to pee standing up. I know because my thighs were sore from going to the gym for the first time in.... uh, I'm too embarrassed to say.... and I really didn't want to squat (the family with whom I'm staying doesn't have a Western toilet). The trick is to spread your legs far apart (warning: remove your pants). TMI? Too bad. You should expect this kind of talk on my blog by now.

*******

Speaking of women, here are two interesting articles about women in India:

Minding Their Gaps, about Western women on their gap year in India being exploited for the sexual and status-raising appeal of their white skin. Courtesy of Alice.

Rapes of Women Show Clash of Old and New India, about, well, the headline is pretty much self-explanatory. Courtesy of Sam (you need a blog or website so I can link your name!).

*******

This song has been stuck in my head for the past week, and I love it:

"Darling" is a Hindi take on a Russian folk song. WIN. Also, you should see 7 Khoon Maaf (7 Murders Forgiven). It's based on a book by Ruskin Bond and is a very unusual movie for Bollywood, in a good way.

*******

This song has been playing repeatedly on the filmi songs channel, and I swear it's copying an (or multiple) English song(s):

Does anyone know what song(s) it's copying? I've Googled it and people seem to disagree about whether it's copying Flo Rida's "Low," Black Eyed Peas' "My Humps," and/or Lady Gaga's "Pokerface." When I first heard it I thought elements were from "Low," and I suppose I can hear remnants of Black Eyed Peas, but I don't know see "Pokerface." But I'm not so sure. Thoughts?

*******

ZOMG A MONKEY JUST INFILTRATED THIS CAFE. ZOMG ZOMG ZOMG! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED IN HERE, MONKEY DEVIL!!! THIS IS MY HAPPY PLACE AND I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME!!!!

Er, or maybe I will, for now. I'm outta here before the monkey ends me and all I love.

My new favorite TV show: Hindi Vampire Soap Opera

Here in Varanasi I'm staying with a nice host family that spends their evenings watching Hindi "serials" (soap operas that air during primetime). I used to be unable to stand these TV shows. That is, until I saw Pyaar Kii Ye Ek Kahaani (This One Love Story).

Basically it's a vampire soap opera. Here's the back story, as told to me by my host sister Pooja (she had to get me up to speed, naturally): in the 1800's Siddharth, Abhay, and Maithili were all regular people living regular people lives. One day Siddharth and Abhay, who are brothers, get turned into vampires and Maithili gets killed (how did this happen? I don't know. Pooja left these details out). Siddharth's and Abhay's transformations give them the ability to live forever without aging as long as they don't touch silver, in which case they get seriously injured or die (I guess their equivalent of Superman's Kryptonite?).

Fast forward to present-day. Siddharth is the "bad" vampire and Abhay is the "good" vampire. Both Siddharth and Abhay are in love with a college human named Piya, who looks identical to Maithili and is supposedly Maithili's reincarnation. Abhay is dating Piya while Siddharth is a player who seduces women in order to kill them and drink their blood. Siddharth's targets are usually girls he thinks are easy--"T" (that's her nickname, I don't know her real name) dresses like a slut (by Indian standards) so he goes for her. And he was right in thinking she's super easy; she really does act like a slut on their date, practically throwing herself all over him. But Abhay comes to the rescue, which leads to an epic battle of facial expressions (see below). Meanwhile, Piya's best friend Panchi (who is also Piya's half-sister, but Panchi doesn't know that) is in love with Siddharth. When Panchi finds out Siddharth went on a date with T, she is super jealous. But Siddharth understands that it will be even easier to steal Panchi's blood, so he dumps T and tells Panchi that he loves her. Abhay warns Piya to keep Panchi away from Siddharth but doesn't say why (Piya doesn't know they are brothers or that Siddharth is a vampire; it is unclear to me if she is aware that Abhay is a vampire). Piya responds that if Siddharth makes her friend happy, then she doesn't want to interfere, and she gets pissed at Abhay. Another layer to the story is that Siddharth and Abhay's father is the caretaker of some all-powerful vampire ring, and of course the evil Siddharth wants to steal the ring from his father to acquire the superpowers. I have surmised from the license plates (everyone is rich and has a car) that this show takes place in the Himalayan state of Uttarakhand, probably in the capital city of Dehradun. This provides for lots of creepy hill forest scenes.

There is also a slew of other characters who have complicated back stories with each other (for example, there's some story about another girl who is pregnant but unmarried and her friend Misha, who is also Panchi's sister, pretends to be pregnant to protect her somehow, and then Misha's father finds out that she's "pregnant" without knowing it's a lie. another example: Panchi and Misha's father is also Piya's father, but the father is completely unaware that Piya is his daughter. And these just two of many, many stories). You can read the insanely long and complex paragraph here in Wikipedia describing everything that has been going on in the series (yes even more insanely long and complex than what I've just written, and no I didn't read the article).

...and I love every second of this show. Why?

1. The language. The Hindi isn't spoken nearly as quickly as in other serials so I'm actually able to pick up most of what is going on. And the vampires speak unusually large amounts of English for a Hindi serial, and their English is excellent (who knew vampires were multilingual?).

2. The fight scenes. They involve absolutely zero fighting but employ the classic Hindi serial technique of rapidly spinning the camera around the characters to the point of making the viewer dizzy and repeatedly zooming in on the same unmoving, unnaturally overexpressive faces (the expression during fight scenes: I am really, really, really mad and am going to kick your ass like no other ass has been kicked before) (but the ass-kicking never actually happens, you only see the threatening faces). One fight scene was put to an end when Siddharth and Abhay's father rushed to intervene and out-facially-expressed both of them into submission.

The teeth-baring (and associated hissing sounds) indicate that they are angry. The background is blurry because the camera is spinning around them at a very quick pace.

The father out-stares his sons, thereby putting an end to the fight.

3. Siddharth's art of seduction. He is super smooth and not at all creepy. ...that was a lie.

Siddharth seduces T by telling her she smells tasty. He even calls her "Tasty T" several times.

4. The aforementioned creepy hill forest scenes. Always at night and with lots of mist. Siddharth's favorite place to take girls on dates. Of course these girls find the forest romantic, despite the darkness, mist, middle-of-nowhereness, and scary music, and can't wait to jump into bed (er, under a tree?) with Siddharth. Also where fights take place. See all of the above pictures.

5. Vampire smell detection. Vampires use their sense of smell to detect the location of other vampires, even miles away. This involves several characters exaggeratedly sniffing for extended periods of time. These actors really know how to take a good, long whiff!

6. T's response to Siddharth dumping her. "How GAY are you?!" (said in English)

7. The intellectual challenge. There are so many characters with so many intertwining stories I could never possibly dream of understanding or following it all, especially starting in the middle of the series.

8. The ginormous amounts of drama. Did I mention the battles of the facial expressions?! The constant camera-spinning and face-zooming are not limited to the fight scenes, but happen every time something dramatic happens. Which is quite often.

9. The lack of logic. Nothing on the show ever makes any sense.

10. The frequency of new episodes. In America, our TV series give us a new episode once a week. That means we have to wait one entire week to find out what happens next, and god knows how agonizingly painful that can be! Not in India, folks. Here we only have to wait 23.5 hours, because there is a new episode every single day! (Except Sunday. After Saturday night's episode you have to wait 47.5 hours, and man will that be difficult for me!)

Ok so I guess several of these reasons are really the same reason: this show is HILARIOUS. Seriously it's like nonstop laughter for 30 minutes (ok, fine, there are stops for commercials) (actually, many of those commercials are also laughter-inducing). I can't wait to spend more quality time with my host family following the lives of these vampires and their human love interests.

In other news, I'm awake now because a gecko woke me up by landing on my face while I was sleeping. Yes, a gecko actually fell from the ceiling and landed on my nose, with one leg in my right nostril, another leg on my left eye, and the tail crossing my lips and curling around my chin. I had no idea what to do (screaming may have resulted in the gecko falling into my mouth so I stayed quiet) and just lied on the bed with my face paralyzed for about a minute before the gecko decided to move off my face and back toward the wall. The longest 60 seconds of my life, man. I didn't even know it was possible for geckos to lose their grip and fall (India is full of surprises, I suppose). And now I'm too scared to fall back asleep, so I decided to kill a few hours writing this blog post.

Second Impressions

As I think I mentioned in a previous post, I'm currently in Varanasi studying Hindi. This is my second time in Varanasi; the other time was back in November 2007, when I was backpacking around India post-semester abroad program. And oh what a difference 3 years 4 months makes!

Last time I was in this city, I thought it was a truly magical place: sunrise on the Ganges, constant activity from simple daily bathing to extravagant weddings to cremation on the ghats (stairs leading to the Ganges), ancient architecture, mazes of tiny alleyways, etc. I had described this city, which could be seen as India's Jerusalem (Hinduism's holiest city and the oldest continuously-inhabited city on the subcontinent), to many as "India amplified" or "all those stereotypes of India rolled into one." No other place had so many animals in the streets, no other place had so much religious activity, no other place was so colorful, etc.

Or so my memory told me. Now, well, Varanasi seems like your typical mid-sized North Indian plains town with a dirty river and a splash of religious fervor. It doesn't really have more cows roaming the streets than other places in North India. To be fair, the last time I was here it was my first visit to a mid-sized North Indian plains town, and by now I've visited more than I can count.

A few things do set Varanasi apart from the rest, but the most obvious thing: tourists. So. many. tourists. And I know I'm about to go all hypocritical on you (if I'm here as a foreigner, obviously other foreigners should be allowed to come here too), but here's why that annoys me:

1. Tourists = hassle. Where there are tourists, there are people looking to get your money. People try to sell me things (anything); rickshaw-wallahs follow me asking "where you going, madam? rickshaw, madam?"; children run up asking me to buy them chocolate; beggars beg me for money; and then there are your creepy snake-charmers and monkey-handlers who want you to pay to take their photo. I cannot walk two feet down the street without being bombarded by someone. And it's exhausting. (I never had this problem in Delhi or Shimla, where I lived outside of tourist areas and people knew I was a resident and left me alone.) (My Hindi teacher teaches in a touristy area and I would like to live within walking distance, hence why I'm in a touristy area in Varanasi.)

2. A noticeably large minority of tourists dress inappropriately. This morning I saw a Western woman wearing a tube top and booty shorts. In Hinduism's holiest city. And you wonder why almost all Western women who come to India get unwanted attention at some point? Because of women like that, who dress with no regard for the local culture, who give off the image that Western women are overtly sexual and looking for action. A few Western women dress like whores and all Western women get treated like they're whores.* Anyway, almost nothing annoys me as much as people dressing inappropriately in someone else's culture, and I get irritated every single time I see some white chick in a tank top.

This #2 brings me to another topic: foreigner types. There are a few types of tourists that visit Varanasi, but I'll save that for another post. Let me gather some visual aids for you first (in other words, let me sneak some pictures of them).

I don't know why the tourists annoy me so much more now than they did over 3 years ago. My guess is that tourism is seasonal, and perhaps March is during high season and/or November is during low season. So maybe there were fewer tourists and thus less hassle.

I guess I'm not really being fair to Varanasi. There is something special about this city, that attracts pilgrims from all over India and tourists from all over the world. It is difficult to put into words, but you feel it in the atmosphere at certain ghats while watching the Hindu hair-cutting ceremony or a wedding, you feel it from a boat on the Ganges at 5am as the sun rises to illuminate the age-old riverside temples in a purplish hue. But you know what? That special element can easily get lost for the long-term foreigner in the everyday hassle. (And it's only been one week for me so far!)

In other news, this past weekend was Holi! Luckily, this year I wasn't arrested. I celebrated in my Hindi teacher's village in the state of Jharkhand. My skin is still stained rainbow. :)

*I am no way trying to say that the men who catcall and ass-grab are not at fault. Obviously they are behaving in a disgusting manner. However, that doesn't mean that Western women can dress however they want, outside of cultural norms. They are, in some ways, inviting the attention.