Friday, October 30, 2009

Pyrotechnic Fun (Diwali in Bangalore)

Two weeks ago I went to Bangalore to celebrate Diwali with Angela, a friend from Pondicherry University and hang out with Pema, a friend from Thimphu, Bhutan. The whole weekend was awesome, and Diwali was amazing. We lit fireworks on Angie's roof while watching a 360-degree show of fireworks, both in the air and on the streets. Photos and videos can express this spectacle better than my words:

special fireworks booth set up for Diwali in Angela's neighborhood


fireworks on the street and in the air, viewed from Angela's roof


Angela and I play with sparklers


Angela lighting "flowerpot" fireworks


[video unable to upload]

360-view of fireworks (note: this video does not do the scene justice! unfortunately I was not videotaping during the best parts)


(I will add more pictures to my Picasa page soon.)

And of course we ate lots and lots of sweets, which is what one does on Diwali.

The day after Diwali I hung out with Pema, who is studying and working in Bangalore. He works at a call center overnight and gets home from work at 5am. Painful. We went to Lal Bagh, a big park with botanical gardens, and hung out in a giant tree (Pema said it was the biggest tree he'd ever seen, if you discount banyan trees):

super awkward sitting-in-a-tree picture. I almost want to submit this awkwardness to awkwardfamilyphotos.com, even though we aren't family. I swear our day wasn't as awkward as this picture may suggest.


Tomorrow morning I'm going to Kullu and Manali in the Himalayas for the long weekend (we have Monday off for the birthday of Guru Nanak, the founder of Sikhism). I am psyched for hiking, mountain vistas, cold temperatures (-5 degrees C at night) and, most importantly, CLEAN AIR!!

...I'm only getting more and more behind on my blog.

Oh, and I must end this post with the greatest picture of all:


the best masala dosa in all of India, in Hotel Janatha in Malleshwaram

"You look like shit today."

"You look like shit today."

"Wow, you look awful!"

"Why do you look dead?"

These were actual comments I got at work today. The only difference between today and all other days was that I wore my hair down, because it was finally cool enough to do so. Will told me my hair looked "unkempt," but really I had just let it air-dry and it looked the same as it always does when it's down. I guess Indians aren't used to seeing a little frizz?

The comments stopped when I put my hair up in a ponytail.

This is the opposite of what happens back in the US, where everyone encourages me to let my hair down!

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

I fail at updating my blog.

But I promise to update soon. Three posts you can look forward to, eventually:

- Diwali in Bangalore
- the details of my new Kerala project
- weekend in Agra (Taj Mahal) and Pushkar (camel fair)

...not necessarily in that order. Though that is chronological.

(This post also serves as a reminder to myself to actually write about these things.)

Thursday, October 22, 2009

emilyindelhiandtrivandrum

Solution to the problem in the last post: I am going to split my time between Delhi and Trivandrum. I will go down to Kerala a lot and stay for significant periods of time, but I will keep returning to Delhi. I'm hoping my schedule will be like one month in Delhi, one month in Kerala, one month in Delhi, one month in Kerala, etc. but I do not know yet. So I am officially moving part-time to Trivandrum! More information to come soon.

And don't worry, I'm not actually going to change the URL of this blog. That name is just too long to type. (Actually, if I were to use Trivandrum's full name, it would be even longer: emilyindelhiandthiruvananthapuram)

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

emilyintrivandrum?

I was intending to use this time to write about my amazing weekend in Bangalore, but something insane happened today. So you'll just have to wait to hear about my pyrotechnic adventures (gotta love Diwali!).

To give some background first: I'm not happy with my current project and in my current "area," to use TERI lingo (basically my department), so I've been talking to other areas about their projects. Today I met with the "Area Convener" (department head) of another area, because he said he had a great project for me. A new project is starting up that requires a ton of time doing field work in villages, and he said that, as the only person interested in social issues with a technical background, I would be able to play a major role and contribute a lot of meaningful work (unlike now; I'm pretty much an editing bitch in my current department. I understand the need for editing and wouldn't have a problem with it if they actually gave me other work to do too!).

The catch? I would have to relocate to Trivandrum, Kerala. For the entire year. Moving in two or three weeks. (Trivandrum is at the southern tip of India. Check a map here.)

I actually like Delhi now. I feel settled. I have a routine, a great apartment, and a small group of friends. Plus you can't beat Delhi's location for easy weekend trips; a huge variety of amazing locations are just a train or bus ride away. And, maybe this seems like an odd thing to say, but my favorite thing about Delhi is that I can practice Hindi. I really love learning Hindi. Unfortunately, Malayalam (the language of Kerala) is notoriously the most difficult language to learn in India, if not one of the toughest in the entire world. Let's just say that even Angela, who speaks more languages than any other person I know, including three Dravidian languages (Malayalam is Dravidian as well), thinks Malayam is difficult!! Even with a tutor I would not be able to pick up much. The Indian colleagues who would join me in Kerala (2 from the Delhi office and 2 from the Bangalore office) aren't even going to try.

So I don't know what to do. I don't want to leave Delhi, but I hate work right now and this opportunity seems really great. I'm going to ask if it would be possible to split up my time between Delhi and Kerala. But if it's not, I really don't know what I'm going to do...

(I am fully aware I did not describe the project to you. It kinda requires a long explanation and I was lazy. If I decide to work on this project, I will tell you more about it.)

Thursday, October 15, 2009

FAQ

People keep asking me the same questions, so now I'm going to answer them.

How is work?
Let's just say there is a reason I haven't discussed work on my blog: some of my coworkers have discovered it. I have been unhappy with the project I'm assigned to for a variety of reasons I really shouldn't post online. However, I had a good meeting with my boss today and I think things are going to improve. When they do, I'll blog about work.

How is your roommate?
Sam (short for Samantha) is awesome. She's from Berkeley, graduated Princeton in 2008 and spent this past year getting a masters in War Studies at King's College in London. She studied insurgencies and terrorism (yup, she's pretty badass). She is in Delhi to work for the Center for Policy Research and is looking at Lashkar-e-Taiba, the Pakistani terrorist group that carried out the attacks on Mumbai last November. Her father is Mexican, mom Jewish. It's pretty funny that we're both Jewish, and we hope to host some Friday night Shabbos dinners. Someone should send us matzah ball mix! And she is ridiculously tall: 5'10" (we look pretty silly standing next to each other). Is that enough information for you?

We get along really great, or at least I think so. She has never been to India before, and I have been really impressed with how well she's handled the culture shock (much better than I did my first time, for sure). I love that she is super open to learning everything she can about India, even though she came here knowing relatively little (or so she claims). I think we're going to have a fun time living together!

Is your Hindi improving?
My auto Hindi is pretty good. I can bargain completely in Hindi with an autowallah. However, that is about the only Hindi I get to practice and otherwise it hasn't improved much. Yesterday, I started Hindi lessons. I now have two-hour lessons three times a week (twice at 7am before work, which means waking up at 6! but I think it's worth it).

What is your daily routine?
8:00am: Alarm goes off. Hit snooze.
8:05am: Hit snooze.
8:10am: Hit snooze.
8:15am: Drag myself out of bed. Take a shower and get ready for work.
9:10am: Get an auto. My regular autowallah disappeared, but there is still a minimal exchange of words. Katrina, another American who works at TERI and lives in Jangpura, often shares the auto with me. The autowallahs recognize us.
9:25am: Arrive at work. (The workday starts at 9:30am).
9:28-9:45am: Check email.
9:45am-1:00pm: "Work." Often involves a trip to the first floor (I'm on the second floor) to chat with Will, Anand, or Joel (the Canadian) and gchatting with both American friends and coworkers (everyone is on gchat all the time. It's really bad). Plus some actual work in between.
1:00pm-1:40pm: Lunch time. It's really only supposed to be until 1:30pm, but most people take a little longer. I often go to a place in the market behind the India Habitat Center (IHC, where TERI is located) with Katrina. The dal there is incredible. Or I can order a tiffin to be delivered to TERI and eat with a bunch of coworkers in the office.
1:40pm-5:30pm: "Work." See above.
On some days, at some point during the "work" time, I take a tea break with some of my coworkers, usually Will, Anand, and Jay. But I have yet to actually drink tea because I keep forgetting to bring a mug to work. So I just hang out or bring my water bottle and get made fun of for not drinking tea.
5:37pm: Leave building. Go to the street to get an auto. This can take anywhere from 2 to 45 minutes. I'm usually home by 6:30pm.

My nights vary a lot. I spend some parked in front of the TV watching Friends, going out with Sareeta, on Skype, or going to a cultural event (Ramlila during Navratri, for example, or to a show, such as classical Indian music, at the IHC). But I probably spend most nights at home. I like to do absolutely nothing after work.

What do you eat? Do you cook?
Unfortunately, no, I still don't cook. But I really want to learn! I have been eating a lot of bread and peanut butter, crackers and cheese, and cereal. Some nights I order Indian food to be delivered, because almost every restaurant will deliver to your door free of charge. I bought dosa batter and hope to cook masala dosa one day soon.

Is the pollution really that bad?
Yes. Delhi is dirty--pollution and dust to the extreme. I often find it difficult to breathe, and I can feel that my skin is coated in a layer of grime. My face has turned into a strawberry with ginormous blackheads, and I often break out into coughing fits. My mom sent me a carbon-filter mask for pollution, and I wear that in an auto (as I think I mentioned in a previous post, when you are sitting in traffic the open sides provide zero protection against the pollution). I think it helps a little bit, but unclear how useful it really is.

What about the poverty? Is it totally in your face?
Yes and no. The poverty doesn't feel as in-my-face as in other places in India. But there are beggars everywhere. With malnourished, possibly-dying babies or purposely-mutilated children. Coming up to my auto and sticking their hands into the vehicle. The most difficult part of my day is taking the auto home from work and concentrating on the back of the autowallah’s head so as not to turn around to acknowledge the beggar—because it’s too painful to look at their emaciated bodies, unwashed hair, dirty clothes, and worst of all, sick babies. It really pains me to know I’m forcing myself to become immune to them and their suffering, like I did my first time in India. It makes me feel so inhuman. But I don’t think I could go on living my life in India without going insane if I dwelled on it. Do I ever give them money? No, because what you saw in Slumdog Millionaire is often true: many beggars give their money to gangs, and that would only perpetuate the problem. If you want to help, give your money to an appropriate NGO instead. One time I did give a woman with a malnourished baby a bottle of water, and another time I gave a granola bar. I think giving food is ok, but I do not give money. But more often than not I try my hardest to ignore them (or at least act as if I’m ignoring them so they go away). Honestly, though, I don't think the poverty is as bad in South Delhi as in other parts of Delhi (South Delhi is mostly a very nice area), or as bad in Delhi as in other parts of India.

Any traveling?
I went to Orchha and Gwalior for Gandhi's birthday weekend (see previous posts). I'm heading to Bangalore this weekend to celebrate Diwali with Angela and hang out with Pema, a friend from Bhutan. Next weekend I'm taking PiA is paying for me to take their first gap-year student (between high school and college) to Agra (can you say free trip to the Taj?). The following weekend I have Monday off for Guru Nanak's birthday, so I'm trying to go somewhere in the Himalayas for the three-day weekend. After that, I have no concrete plans. At some point I will visit Prashanth in the village he's working in (he works for an NGO in a village near Indore, Madhya Pradesh) and meet up with Angela again, this time in her original hometown of Hyderabad. In December or January I might go to Chennai for the annual music/dance festival and to meet up with some Pondy Uni friends. So, even though I have zero vacation time for the first six months, I am managing to fill up some weekends with travel.

Can I visit?
YES!! Please do! (Ok, I made up this FAQ. No one has asked me that. But you really should!)

I hope I have answered all the questions. Keep 'em coming!

Gwalior

Ok, this is going to be a short post because I'm feeling lazy and there isn't that much to say. I went to a fort and walked around Old Town. The fort was cool because it was on a big rocky hill above the town, so there are great views of the entire town from the fort. And, since it was above the town, I could breathe (almost) fresh air up there!! On the walk up to the fort, you pass some interesting Jain carvings. The palace inside the fort has yellow rubber duckies painted on the side, so that was pretty funny. Most of the buildings have a spooky abandoned-warehouse feel. There were even bats! A lot of local Gwalior residents utilize the fort as a park. I talked to a few high school students who say they go up there every weekend to hang out and climb all over the abandoned buildings.

Though there wasn't much to see in Old Town, I enjoyed walking around. For some reason it reminded me of all the reasons I love India, so that made me really happy.

If you want to see pictures of Gwalior, go to my Picasa page: http://picasaweb.google.com/egorbaty/Gwalior#

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

The Attack of the Henna Warriors

I've been meaning to post about my three-day weekend (for Gandhi's birthday) trip to Orchha and Gwalior in Madhya Pradesh for a while now. So here is Part I: Orchha...

It rained almost my entire time in Orchha, so I didn't do much sightseeing. The streets turned into shin-high rivers and stairs into waterfalls. I visited one palace and that was about it (though there was another palace, a few temples, and chhaatris (cenotaphs)). Oh well. For pictures of the palace and other pictures of Orchha, visit my Picasa page: http://picasaweb.google.com/egorbaty/Orchha#

While walking around the village, a 10-year-old girl came up to me trying to sell me things. This is not unusual at all, but she wouldn't leave me alone. So I decided to change the subject away from her souvenirs. I asked her if she went to school, and she said yes. She got so excited by my interest in her schooling that she took me to her street and went inside her house to get her books and show me. She then asked me if I liked henna,* and I said of course! Well, this was a mistake. She ran around the corner and returned with eight more children, one of which was armed with a henna* cone. Without asking if I wanted any henna,* she and a few others grabbed my hand. I tried to protest, but there were so many kids and there was nothing I could do about it.

After the henna* attack, one of the girls invited everyone to her father's restaurant for chai (and by restaurant, I mean the grungy hole-in-the-wall type). On our walk over, a few other kids came up to me to try to sell me souvenirs. But the henna* warriors told them not to bother me, because "yeh humari dost hai!" (she is our friend). It was very cute. And then the chai was excellent. Unfortunately, however, the chai pit stop gave the henna* time to dry (I had intended to wash it off ASAP) so that I am now stuck with the world's worst henna on my skin.

Some of the children who attacked me with henna.* There were a few more not pictured.


Lesson learned: do not allow children to doodle on your skin with henna.* ...It doesn't wash off.
(Regarding the frizz: your hair wouldn't look any better after an overnight train + bus ride + strong winds + endless rain)

Because it was raining too hard to sightsee, I decided to go hole-in-the-wall hopping. I went from one place to another, trying a samosa in one, poori in another, chai in another, talking to the cooks and waiters in Hindi (or, rather, attempting to). Until, to my surprise, I ran into this:

That is Korean. In an Indian village. Curious, I went inside and asked to see a menu. This too was in Korean, complete with cutesy Korean-style rainbow and clouds:

I tried to explain in Hindi that my friend was studying Korean and spent her summer in Korea, but the waiter seemed unexcited. So I changed my story and said my friend was from Korea--even though she is from Kuwait--and he was much more excited about this. (It apparently didn't matter that a Korean spending her summer learning Korean made no sense.) I asked him why he had Korean signs and a Korean menu (complete with "gimchee," which I assume is kimchi), and he said that Orchha sees a lot of Korean tourists. And alas, as I was leaving, a Korean woman walked in.

A post about Gwalior is up next, so stay tuned.

*I do not know the difference between henna and mehndi. I used the term henna here because that is what we tend to say in the West, but I actually do not know which term is correct.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

The Indian Art of Hair Removal

Today I decided to get rid of my 'stache and trim my eyebrow forest, so I went to Girl Talk, a beauty salon in Defence Colony to wax my upper lip and thread my eyebrows. (Male readers, get over it. This is my blog and I can blog about whatever I want!)

When I walked into Girl Talk, I started saying that I wanted my upper lip waxed. Before I could say "and my eyebrows threaded," the woman I was talking to said, "are you sure that's it?" and points to her eyebrows. It's great to know how terrible my eyebrows looked.

She started with the threading. I had been threaded once before, in Bangalore with Angela. At that time, it was incredibly painful. It felt like little knives cutting up my skin. This time, though, it wasn't nearly that bad. (And at the time Angie had said that place just did a bad job.) For those of you unfamiliar with threading: one woman stretches your skin tight while another woman holding thread in a triangle with her mouth and two hands wraps the thread around your hairs and moves the thread back and forth to pull out the hairs. They get rid of the hair on the top of your eyebrows, which they don't always do in the US (I usually leave those hairs), and the shape is different. I feel like my eyebrows are too thin and straight, not arched enough and a little unnatural-looking. (It is also possible that this particular person didn't do a great job, so I shouldn't assume this is what Indian threading always looks like.) I like my usual shape better, but at least I'm cleaned up.

Then we moved on to waxing. I was more than surprised when the woman approached me with a butter knife dripping with wax. She proceeded to smear the wax on my face like she would smear butter on bread. She put A LOT of wax on, more than at home. And then she waxed it a second time (not sure why; I didn't feel any additional hairs being pulled out). You know how at home they clean up the stray hairs with a tweezer? Well, here they did it with a thread.

So that is how all my extraneous facial hair will be removed this year. And for super cheap! Brows and lip for the equivalent of one US dollar.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

"Why Indian Men Are Still Boys"

This is too good not to post:

http://www.tehelka.com/story_main42.asp?filename=Ne010809coverstory.asp

If you're still unconvinced you should click on the link, here's the first paragraph:

"A few years ago, a group of young men, all Bengaluru-based lawyers, were asked who bought their underwear. Their answer bears out the seemingly arbitrary nature of this intrusion. Of the five men, all in their late twenties, all wellgroomed and intelligent, all given to the unconventional in their personal and political lives, only one bought his own underwear. For the rest, this was the first time they were thinking about why their mothers were the ones still picking out their boxers and briefs."

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Photos! Including the promised explosions

Check out my Picasa page for photo albums:

http://picasaweb.google.com/egorbaty


This link is also now posted as "My Photos" under "Links" in the sidebar to the right.

A taste of the promised explosions:



But you need to check out my Picasa page for more.

How to get an auto in Delhi

It is important that you know what an auto (short for autorickshaw) is, since they are an integral part of my daily life and I complain about them a lot. So, for those of you who don't know what an auto is, here is a picture of the three-wheeled devil I stole from Google Images:



The man (and yes, it is always a man) who drives the auto is called an "autowallah." You will have to bargain with this man. Your bargaining might go as follows:

Autowallah pulls over, leans his body toward me while still clutching the steering handlebars with both hands, and lifts his chin (kinda like an American guy head nod but faster and jerkier) to indicate that I should tell him my desired destination.


Me: Jangpura.


Autowallah: Jangpura Extension?


Me, now holding onto the vertical bar next to the meter so that he does not drive away: Haan. G-block, Birbal Park ke pas. [Yes. G-block, near Birbal Park.]


Autowallah: 70 rupiye. [70 rupees.]


Me: 70 rupiye?! 70 rupiye bahut mahenge hain!! Chaalis rupiye. [70 rupees?! 70 rupees is very expensive!! 40 rupees.]


Autowallah, laughing: Nahin, nahin. 70 rupiye sirf. [No, no. 70 rupees only.]


Me: Lekin Jangpura yahaan se dur nahin! Pachaas rupiye. [But Jangpura is not far from here! 50 rupees.]


Autowallah speaks really fast in Hindi (presumably because the few words I have uttered convinced him I actually understand Hindi--which I don't) and I have no idea what he says, but I hear the words “traffic” and “70 rupiye” somewhere in there.


Me: Lekin har roz traffic hai! 60 rupiye. [But everyday there is traffic! 60 rupees.]


Autowallah does the ambiguous Indian head wobble.


Me (trying to confirm due to the ambiguity of head wobble): 60 rupiye? Thik hai? [60 rupees? Ok?]


Autowallah repeats ambiguous Indian head wobble and very briefly extends his hand backwards toward the seat to indicate I should sit down.


This whole conversation of course assumes that the autowallah is willing to take you to your desired destination. Sometimes they hear your destination, shake their head and immediately drive off.

The autowallahs at the Birbal Park auto stand now recognize me. It's sort of unfortunate, because I know they are ripping me off and there is nothing I can do about it. They have all banded together and refuse to take me to work at the India Habitat Center for anything less than Rs 40 (even though the one day I managed to convince an autowallah to use his meter on my way home from work it only cost Rs 23--the ones who take me home don't know me). It has reached the point where words are no longer exchanged. I walk up to the auto stand, one of the autowallahs motions to me to come over to his auto, I get in without saying my destination, and I pay him Rs 40 when I arrive at work. We don't even need to utter a single word to each other.

Sometimes the autowallahs try to have conversations with me. Since they don't speak any English, it's actually the most Hindi practice I get. Usually we talk about my lack of a husband, and the autowallah compliments my Hindi. Often they talk really fast and I have no idea what they are saying. In those situations I do the ambiguous Indian head wobble and they think I'm following. One time an autowallah even gave me a piece of candy! (But be warned: the vast majority are not that friendly).

Autowallahs will drive everywhere: directly into oncoming traffic, in bicycle lanes, and even on pedestrian-filled sidewalks. Needless to say, some rides can be pretty nerve-wracking. But I trust the autowallah and actually have fun sometimes. Really, the worst part of taking an auto is not the crazy driving, but the open sides (see above picture) that allow all the road pollution to go straight into my lungs.

So I guess I have a love-hate relationship with autos and autowallahs. Most of the time it's hate, but in those moments of love, it's a lot of love.

I HAVE INTERNET IN MY APARTMENT!

It took over two weeks, but I finally have Internet! That means it's time to post pictures and write posts that I've been meaning to write for a while. Yay!

Friday, October 2, 2009

KABOOM!

This post would really be best with pictures, but I don't have them with me in this Internet cafe here in Orchha. I uploaded them to my laptop to free up space on my memory cards. Plus my camera died before the most explosive events, so I am waiting to get the pictures from my friend. But when I get back to Delhi, I promise to upload these pictures! Here are the events the pictures are of:

This past Monday was Durga Puja for Bengalis and Dussehra for everyone else (well, Hindus, anyway). Both end the 9-day fast of Navratri (fast during the day and eat at night, Ramadan-style). Durga Puja focuses on the goddess Durga and Dussehra celebrates the victory of Ram over Ravana representing the triumph of good over evil.

For Durga Puja, the Bengali community puts on several events in CR Park, a neighborhood full of Bengalis and where Sareeta, the other Delhi PiAer, lives. They are pretty much all the same: lots of booths with delicious Bengali food (I’m a big fan of kathi rolls), a huge Durga idol, and classical Bengali music on a big stage. I found it funny that the stage's backdrop was a sexy woman, as displayed in a picture I will post next time.

Every night of Navratri, an act of the Ramayana is performed in what is called a Ramlila. The Ramlila comes to a very fiery conclusion on Dussehra. As Ram fights Ravana, there are ridiculous amounts of fireworks that burst immediately overhead. Have you ever seen fireworks literally above your head, not in front of you? It is a little scary. They also have spinning fireworks on the ground that look like giant pinwheels of long sparks. When Ram kills Ravana, three giant effigies of Ravana and his brothers are burned. No, “burn” is the wrong word. Exploded is a better word. The effigies are stuffed with fireworks and dry straw. To set these effigies on fire and trigger their internal fireworks, a brave man touches a giant sparkler on the end of a long rod to the extremely combustible bodies and additional fireworks are shot directly at them. Once lit and bombarded by firecrackers, a ton of noisy, bright fireworks rocket out of the huge body and then KABOOM! the biggest fire I have ever seen in my life shoots up where the effigy used to be as the frame of the statue keels over and collapses. Even though I was a “safe” distance away, I could feel the intense heat of the multistory-tall flame on my face. It was terrifying and I instinctively ducked with each KABOOM!


Unfortunately my camera’s batteries died before the hair-raising spectacle, so I could not take a video as planned. But I will post pictures from a friend, I promise!


While we are on the topic of fireworks, I have been hearing firecrackers nonstop from my apartment. It’s a little disconcerting. I don’t even know what holiday it is. Unless there will be firecrackers nonstop from Dussehra until Diwali (October 17)? I really hope not, because firecrackers are LOUD.

जन्मदिन मुबारक हो, गांधीजी! (Happy birthday Gandhi!)

I have today (Friday) off because it's Gandhi's birthday. So I took this long weekend opportunity to travel to Orchha and Gwalior in Madhya Pradesh. These locations were chosen solely because all trains and buses to the Himalayas were sold out, and it is monsoon season in my other regions of interest. Orchha is supposed to have some "hidden" palaces and temples (hidden among the brush, I assume), and I wanted to go there when I went to Khajuraho (they are only a few hours apart) but didn't have time. And Gwalior has a fort. Probably not as epic as Rajasthani forts, but it should be interesting.

I'm in Orchha now, but it's raining and all the site are outdoors. So while I wait for the rain to pass (it's only supposed to last an hour or so, as it is not monsoon season here), I figured I'd update my blog...

To get to Orchha I had to take a 7-hour train to Jhansi, which is actually in Uttar Pradesh (it sorta sticks into Madhya Pradesh), and then switch to a 30-minute bus. I had forgotten how much I love trains in India! I practiced Hindi with my compartment-mates, who of course got a kick out of a गोरी (white person) speaking Hindi. We drank chai together when the chaiwallah came by (train chai is second only to street chai). It was like a cute Indian tea time in my compartment. There was a really adorable, surprisingly not-annoying 3-year-old whose mother gave everyone delicious home-cooked parathas (and his dad was HOT) (not the reason I love Indian trains, in case you were wondering. a hot guy on a train is a pretty rare encounter). There were two guys who spoke English (neither of them were the hot dad), and things got a little weird when they insisted on buying me a boxing glove keychain from some keychain-wallah walking through the car. As much as I would love a boxing glove keychain (um, what??), I turned down their offer. I was pretty relieved when my stop was only 10 minutes later.

This was my second time in Jhansi, because I had to take the train there to get to Khajuraho almost two years ago. But this was the first time I saw it in daylight (I had arrived late at night, around 1:30am, and then took a 5:30am bus to Khajuraho). A place really looks completely different in the day! It felt like I was in Jhansi for the first time. But, as it really is only a transport town, there isn't much to see and I was outta there pretty quickly again. I was mostly struck by how incredibly dusty it was. I know I always complain about the dust in Delhi, but this was much, much worse. Plus it was windy so the dust was swirling everywhere.

Ok, it is still raining, so I'm going to write another post... I really hope the rain stops soon!

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Crossing the tracks

I am going to start this entry with a video:


http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=136011048574


(you do not need to have Facebook to see it.)


This commercial is on all the time. And is 100% based on reality. Actually, not 100%. That girl would not stop that guy. She would follow him. Or try to cut him off and get under the gate first.


There are railroad tracks separating Jangpura, my neighborhood, from Lajpat Nagar. The fastest way to Lajpat is to cross these tracks rather than going around on the Defence Colony Flyover. Well, faster if there are no trains (which seems to be rare), or if you get off your motorbike and duck under the gate, like in that commercial. Otherwise you could be sitting at the gate waiting for five 60-car trains to pass by. (That takes about an hour and a half, if you were wondering.)


The first time I was returning from shopping in Lajpat, the gate was down (I have now been to that rail crossing four times, and not once has the gate been open). I took a cycle-rickshaw because I was pretty close to home and didn’t think an auto was necessary. Unfortunately for rickshaw-wallahs, cycle-rickshaws cannot fit under the gate. My rickshaw-wallah got off the rickshaw and ran under the gate and to the other side of the tracks. I had no idea what he was doing. When he came back (yes, he crossed the tracks a second time), he told me that he found another rickshaw on the other side of the tracks and that I should cross and get in it, because the gate would be down for a while (or at least this is what I thought he said; he was speaking in Hindi and I couldn’t understand everything). At this point I could actually hear the train coming. I yelled in Hindi, “nahin! relgari aa rahi hai!” (no! a train is coming!) (Even the loud horn tooting, or whatever that train noise is, didn’t stop people from crossing.) And then the train came. It had an endless amount of cars, and then it just stopped. In the middle of the road crossing. So of course I gave up on the cycle-rickshaw and got into an auto that went around on the flyover.


Another time I was at this crossing going in the other direction, people got stuck in the middle between two trains. The train heading west, on the far side from Jangpura, was already at the road crossing with people waiting for it to pass when a train heading east, trapping the people and motorbikes and fruit carts in the middle. …and there isn’t much space there.


Oh, and the other day I saw 2 decorated camels and 2 painted elephants on the Outer Ring Road (kinda like Delhi’s version of a beltway). Not to mention the dozens of cows I see everyday, of course.


Welcome to the roads of Delhi.