note for the scientist in us all

I'm currently working on fixing my camera to post the 500 pictures I took of the trip.  My camera unfortunately gave up early on in my travels.  Luckily, like all other material things in my life during those 6 weeks, we shared cameras.  We did collective photography.  Meaning we're sharing all our pictures from the trip.  Some people are still adventuring through India, so the collection will not be complete for sometime.  Perhaps mid to late August.  I'll post the link when it becomes available.  I know the curious mind wants to know what the things I'm describing look like.  Never fear.  I've got you covered.

Also, birdface says hello.  He's been my faithful assistant overseeing the posting of my journal from atop my laptop screen.  His tail has grown back so he doesn't look so stupid anymore.  I missed him terribly.

journal entry: june 3, 2008

For dinner last night, our first formal meeting as a study abroad class, we went to eat and tour the Imperial Hotel in Delhi.  The height and grand tribute to colonial India.  Every space on the walls was lined with portraits of various raj tyrants and colonial rulers.  I'm sort of having a difficult time processing this.  Like most of my experiences in India so far, it was sensory overload.  I felt oddly more comfortable in that space than I had anywhere else in Delhi, but at the same time still profoundly awkward.  I'd never be able to afford to stay at a five star hotel such as the Imperial in the US.  I felt the other guests (all rather Western in appearance or style) knew we were out of place and were continually glaring at us.  We were foreigners who were alien in a constructed Western oasis.  I felt like an intruder.  I felt dirty.  I was acutely aware of the class differences and constantly thought about the disparity that lay right outside the hotel's walls.  

As we perused the various pieces of art, I noticed one photograph tucked up into a corner at the end of a hallway.  It was highly out of place in terms of the theme of the rest of the hotel.  It was a black and white photograph of an elephant walking into a temple or building and a man in traditional homespun cloth curled up asleep on the steps.  It was the most beautiful and authentic piece in the entire place.  It was completely different than the portraits of distinguished men that occupied the rest of the wall spaces, yet this made it stand out even more to me.  I felt that real India had somehow managed to find its way in past the guards.  It gave me hope that perhaps the culture wouldn't be completely obliterated by Western homogeneity.  

The architecture of the hotel was in Greco-Roman inspired columns and beautiful marble floors.  Imported from Italy of course.  Making no sense since beautiful marble is readily available in parts of Northern India.  In fact the Taj Mahal is built out of such marble.  Still... Italian marble, far superior in the eyes of Imperial British I'm sure.  Reinforcing the British lack of understanding and acceptance of Indian culture or heritage.  The design of the restaurant, The Spice Route, was simply breath taking.  It had been designed to resemble a temple, and pieces of old temples from Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, India, Tibet, and Myamar had been used to depict the journey of life through the several stages.  It was designed to be like a boat, and set up according to very specific prescriptions.  I recognized all the various deities and the stories depicted in every nook and cranny.  The meal was amazing, and I had a lovely time getting to know several people.  Yet through it all, the thought of the Delhi outside the walls lingered in my mind.  I couldn't escape the thoughts of what lie just beyond the crisp marble.  It was as if a small part of me could not be distracted to simply enjoy the moment  (I don't want to give the impression that I didn't love almost every moment in India, these entries are simply my thoughts and processing of events).

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Today is the day we do our touristy thing.  We're going to see all the sites of Delhi in typical tourist fashion.  Perhaps we'll fit in well in this role.

We just left Gandhi's tomb.  I was left in awe at the extravagance of his grave.  Columbia asked me why I was so shocked; Gandhi is seen as the father of  independent India.  His image is on every rupee.  He's everywhere.  It was more the plush green turf grass lawn, well paved and manicured that bothered me.  So unsustainable.  Especially for a city that has such water scarcity problems.  I wouldn't see Gandhi approving of it.  I'd think he'd want something more Indian, like fields growing native varieties of rice or millet.  In my opinion, turf grass lawns are colonial western.  Perhaps I'm mistaken.  I'm no turf grass expert.  I wonder how Gandhi would view his own grave and treatment as a deity?

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As we toured through Old Delhi, I couldn't help but feel the absolute crush of the endless masses and streams of people.  What would appear to us to be a poor market, is actually the hustling and bustling prosperous business market.  Anything you could possibly want, you could buy along one of the narrow streets or lanes.  We climbed out of the tour bus and were swarmed by peddlers peddling their trinkets.  I felt completely overwhelmed by the condition of the street urchins.  The children buzzing, begging.  I need to get used to this.  I need to figure out a way not to get so bothered!  I seem to manage externally to ignore and push on, but internally I'm dying.  It's killing me to see people like this.  

Kite and I discussed how we felt about taking pictures of people and the setting of Old Delhi.  On one hand, its important to capture and document where we've been and what we've seen, but also strange since we felt like we're oggling people like they are something on display.  Perhaps more on this later.  

There are so many new boundaries to navigate and relationships to negotiate.  I don't always know the right way to carry myself or carry out an interaction in a respectable, culturally aware manner.  I want to be friendly, not too friendly, while not compromising my own beliefs about social interactions, hierarchies, and gender dynamics.  How can I do this in this new space?  I've accepted that I must make compromises, but can I continue to retain my identity?  Who am I in this context?  Can I continue to have my identity and safely experience the encounters with the new people I'm meeting?  Where does one stop being themselves for the sake of cultural sensitivity?  This gray area is confusing.  Can I coexist in this context?  Perhaps I should discuss this with people over dinner tonight.

journal entry: june 2, 2008

Last night was fun, exciting, depressing, and extremely overwhelming.  Nothing could have prepared me for the poverty and desperation of such a significant portion of the population.  A group of us went out for Fair Flower's birthday to this chic hookah lounge in South Delhi.  We pilled into three cabs and embarked on our journey.  Upon exiting the car, the sharp contrast between the haves and the have-nots finally hit me full on in the face.  I had been noticing it while wandering the city, but had not processed it simply due to sensory overload.  As we walked and laughed towards the bar, I couldn't stop watching people and wondering how they perceived us.  I saw in alleyways people hunkering down on dirty blankets and mats for the night, people cooking, begging, digging through trash, diseased, wretched.  The I saw the event that has haunted me since (even today as I type this from the comfort of my luxurious apartment in the US).  On a dirty, grimy sidewalk a naked, seemingly abandoned child.  An infant.  Unmoving, unattended, completely disposable.  My faith in humanity seemed to deflate entirely as I thought about the possibility of the child being dead on the margins of our society.  On the margins of our carefree, affluent pack.  Two small boys buzzed around us as we walked groping for food, water, or money.  I later was bothered by my treatment of these boys, and our hell-bent manner of going to the bar.  Our luscious playground among the impoverished.  During our bar fun-time, I internally battled with my feelings about our place here in Delhi.  What was our purpose in this setting?  Were we perpetuating the predicament of the people whose lives had so deeply disturbed me?  

We left the bar around 1:00am.  The square was completely deserted.  As we approached the main entrance, people started shuffling towards us.  Like night of the living dead.  People drunk, perhaps not, moaning, aimless, separate.  As we got closer to the cabs the number of displaced people and beggars increased.  They slowly approached our loud drunken group.  Begging in Hindi/English for anything.  We were the living amongst the dead and dying.  The forgotten and unaccounted for.  The invisible people of society.  I had a renewed sense of urgency to get to the cabs.  I felt like we were putting ourselves in a potentially bad situation.  Yet, I'm glad.  Now I know.  Now I've seen.  Realized.  Processed.  The men in our group herded the women towards the taxis.  Also occupying a new role as protector, to the extent they had never been expected to fill before.  

As I sat in the cab, I gazed out the window and noticed things I hadn't before.  The streets were strangely empty.  All along the sidewalks and under overhangs and tarps people slept in piles, on cots, on mats, under trees.  A tent city without tents.  Homelessness isn't a problem here.  It's a way of life.  A subculture.  A class within the social order.  I thought about the baby.  I thought about the displaced peoples.  I thought about the silent city and its secrets I had somehow stumbled across.  Intruded upon the ugly side of reality.  I was the wind.  Mystically observing.  Absorbing Delhi's secrets.  Immediately upon getting back to the hostel, I called Jdawg and told him about everything I'd seen and thought about that night.  I finally understood what he had been trying to tell me before I left.  How could I have understood?  It made sense now.  He urged me not to dwell on these things and try to enjoy the trip.  There would be plenty of time for reflection when I got home.  

I went up to my room and discussed everything with several people.  We discussed what the possible mechanisms had caused what I saw, compared our perceptions of similar events, and talked about the social structure as we had seen it so far.  Exploitation and comodification of people as things, as resources rather than human beings, as capital.  Cheap and replaceable.  How do we fit into all of this?  What do we see ourselves getting and giving from these experiences and interactions?  How do we explain the things we've seen and experienced already?  It's only been two days!  What lies ahead?  How does our presence reinforce the institutions and systems causing the poverty and disposability?  How will I utilize these experiences and apply them to my life?  I wonder how my role within the activist community will change when I return.  It will change.  How can't it?  I'm already changing...  I can't go back to who I was and how I was living.  There is no turning back now.*  

Strangely enough, I didn't cry.  I couldn't cry.

*These are still things I'm trying to answer, even after being home for 5 days.  These things will not completely be answered anywhere in the journal from India.  These are ongoing questions.

journal entry: june 1, 2008

Welcome to India!  We arrived in Delhi an hour late since we took longer than expected on the tarmac in Newark.  I met a wonderful woman on the plane.  She and her family were from Delhi and had been visiting the United States with a program her 12-year-old son was in through NASA.  Impressive.  She dispelled many of my concerns and fears of safety issues and gave me some recommendations for things to do/read while in Derha Dun:

1. Wise and Otherwise - Subha Murthy

2. Art of Living - Srisriravi Shankar

3. Bakeries in Derha Dun

4. Tailor in Delhi

She was wonderfully nice and pleasant to talk to, but slept most of the flight.  So our conversation pretty much ended after we took off.

The flight itself wasn't too bad, as far as international flights concerned.  Food was actually not too disgusting.  There was also HBO and video on demand.  AWESOME!  I watched Flight of the Concords, and two really awful movies.  I tried for several hours to sleep without success.  I spent most of the flight in this not awake not asleep state.  When we finally got off the plane, we were immediately hit by the smell of humans, dust, and life lingering everywhere.  While waiting in line at immigrations/customs (which truly was a joke) we noticed a series of clocks arranged on the wall telling the time of various international metropolitan cities.  I found it hilarious that the 'London' clock was missing completely.  None of the times were right, since none of the clocks were working.  

We proceeded to gather our bags and do the prepaid taxi thing.  The taxi was all that I had been afraid of, but slightly more chaotic.  We had too much luggage (people didn't follow the instructions to "pack light"), so we had to get three taxis.  We put a woman and man in two of the cabs and three women in the third since we had more women than men.  I was in the cab with Swami K and Kite.  Walking outside to get in the cab was much like walking out to your car after a really ballin' show.  I felt fucked up and overwhelmed, running almost entirely on adrenaline.  People tried to talk to us, sell us things, cheap fares, quick trips, etc, but I couldn't understand most of what was going on due to my pseudohightrashedtired state.

As we got going I had to stop thinking about how the driver was managing not to completely crash and kill us and try to enjoy this new experience.  I felt small waves of anger that Columbia and Berkley hadn't picked us up.  The driver had no idea where our hotel/hostel was (nor did he speak much English), and talked on his mobile phone the entire time.  I have no idea how he did it in an automatic and through the disorderly nail biting traffic.  There were people, bikes, motorcycles, glorified vespas, EVERYWHERE.  Spastically weaving, bobbing in and out of cars trucks and mini-semis.  Our small, 1930s-esque mobster cab floating/flying among it all.  I wish I could described the smell, alas I can't at this time.  Shall attempt later.  It is probably the most distinct scent I've ever experienced.  So many different elements, perhaps longer exposure will reveal what these components might be.

When we finally arrived at the YMCA Guest Hostel, I was comforted and relieved by Berkley's smiling presence in the lobby.  It was wonderful to see her after such a long and stressful cab ride.  Another bunch of the group had arrived our time the day before and were all upstairs sleeping jet lag off.  Berkley chuckled as she told us they were "the adventurers" and had to dissuade them from renting scooters that day.  I didn't find it funny or adventurous.  I found it arrogant and stupid.  After only one exposure to the traffic and roadways of Delhi, I had come to the conclusion that I could probably never drive in India.  I thought it kind of an imperialist conception that these people thought they could navigate let alone drive in the cluster fuck.  I didn't think it was adventurous; it was an irresponsible and down right stupid idea.  I wonder if I'll end up being one of  the "squares" because I won't be willing to take retarded risks.  I'm totally up for an adventure, if I wasn't I wouldn't have come to India, but I'm going to be cautious and rational about the types of adventures I take.  I'm not too keen on ending up in an India jail.  Not a part I'd like to see honestly.  

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Breakfast with everyone was great.  Everyone, including myself, was in a much better mood.  Sleep is an amazing thing.  I think we're going to have an awesome group after the interaction of breakfast.  Everyone is excited and here for a somewhat unique reason.  I'm also stoked that everyone is coming from different disciplines.  We have 3 grad students and 17 undergraduates.  Most are entering their final year or semester at UF and have pretty well rounded ideas about global politics and issues.  Today is a free day of sorts... as in the program hasn't officially begun, and we have nothing planned.  I plan on shopping... since I didn't bring any clothes with me, I'm going to need to get some traditional Indian garb.

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Immediately upon leaving the hostel, I was struck again by the odor of the city.  Now that I'm back after a day of exploring, I can feel the smell in every pore and fiber of my being; in my hair and behind my tired overwhelmed eyes.  Prudence gave us a quick tour of places she had found the previous day.  I was highly impressed with the confidence with which she carried herself and navigated the hustle and bustle.  I found myself in a new role and new space as I tagged along behind her.  I felt uncomfortable by how people shamelessly stared at me and how I for the first time in my life occupied the role of a minority and outsider.  I felt Exotic.  Mysterious.  Awkward.  Self-conscious.  I attempted, perhaps unsuccessfully, perhaps not, to navigate these new feelings and my new place within the space.  We later chatted about all of this over dinner.  Others had similar experiences and similar feelings.  Slightly comforting.  I'll take what I can get as far as comfort goes right now.  While I'm elated to be here, I've never felt more awkward and clumsy in my entire life.  I wonder where I fall within the hierarchy of this society.  At the same time I feel highly privileged due to my apparent status as a Western white woman, but also slightly lower and less respected by how people have been trying to cheat and manipulate me.  I feel highly privileged because of my seemingly endless resources, yet exploited for the same reason.  I wonder how this was change as I spend more time here.  As a woman, I find Delhi to be an interesting and difficult space.  I'm continually wanting to say or do things that I'd typically not hesitate to do in the US.  I find myself hesitating because I want to be culturally aware and appropriate.  This a challenge for me since I feel as though I'm stifling my identity to remain safe and respectful of the various cultural standards.  Perhaps with practice, I can find some sort of compromise that doesn't make me feel lost and hollow.

journal entry: may 31, 2008

Travel day.  We started out from Gainesville at 7:00am, I'd gotten up at 5:00am after maybe 2 hours of sleep.  Immediately Swami K, Kite and I started chatting about the things we packed and course readings we were suppose to do.  Apparently Columbia changed the syllabus and didn't let any of us know, Swami K found out through Berkley.  Whatever.  I finished everything that had been posted on the class web page, so no matter what was required or recommended, it wall all finished.  We went to pick up the Cameraman, and it was crazy.  Perhaps because I'd had no sleep and no coffee, but I felt awkward and uncomfortable about meeting new people.  Needless to say we could not get everything in Kite's Toyota Camry, which I predicted, and he had to drive separately.  Overall the Cameraman makes me slightly uncomfortable.  It doesn't help that every time I sit down to read or close my eyes in attempts to sleep he's got the camera in my face.  We'll see how this goes.

The first flight from Jacksonville to Newark was on the tiniest plane I've ever been on and was simply awful.  I couldn't do anything because I was so nauseated.  Actually that was the general consensus when we all got off.  We all seemed to feel better once we found some food in the airport.  Vegetarian nachos.  As last hurrah!  We spent the meal talking about how I was probably the most prepared and well packed.  Wonderful compliment.  Go me.  Thank you Erin!  I was dubbed the "mobile pharmacy" or "drug mule".  I personally prefer 'drug mule'.  Quite hilarious.  

I spent our 4 hour layover looking out the window of the Newark airport at the Manhattan skyline.  I found it rather interesting; the pinnacle of what I define as capitalist, Western society.  Interesting it's the last thing in the US that I'd see before beginning the comparative analysis that will be my adventure.  The first of many contrasts between East and West.  A first glimpse of the dichotomies and inequalities which are soon to be blinding.

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Plane:  I'm so drunk on lack of sleep that I feel like I'm horribly hung over and there is a small man sitting on my chest.  I can't sleep.  I can't think.  I can't do anything except sit and stare at the screen ahead of me.  I'm not even really watching it, just spacing out.  7 hours left.  Half way through.  I still don't really believe that I'm going to India.  I still feel like I'll end up somewhere else, like Michigan.  India isn't real yet.  I wonder if it will even seem real when I get there.  Just wait and see...

morning procrastination

"Trust Me" - The Fray

Looking for something I've never seen

Alone and I'm in between

The place that I'm from and the place that I'm in

A city I never been

I found a friend or should I say a foe

Said there's a few things you should know

We don't want you to see we come and we go

Here today, gone tomorrow

We're only taking turns

Holding this world

It's how it's always been

When you're older you will understand

If I say who I know it just goes to show

You need me less than I need you

But take it from me we don't give sympathy

You can trust me trust nobody

But I said you and me we don't have honesty

The things we don't want to speak

I'll try to get out but I never will

This Traffic's perfectly still

We're only taking turns

Holding this world

It's how it's always been

When you're older you will understand

And then again maybe you don't

And then again maybe you won't

We're only taking turns

Holding this world

It's how it's always been

When you're older you will understand

When you're older you might understand

When you're older you might understand

return

Its very strange being back in this space called my real life.  I don't feel like I belong here.  Not that I felt like I belonged and could forever inhabit India, but I also feel highly awkward and out of place in my own everything.  My apartment is more foreign to me than Delhi.  The abundance of material things I have is astounding.  I feel better that I mostly have books and junk treasures.  It's also an interesting navigation with our currency.  My bank account is sad; but as broke as I am, I still have more monetary wealth than 75% of Indian citizens have in an entire year.  This is also a difficult thing to mentally comprehend.  I'm excited that I'm meeting up with Kite today for coffee to discuss things.  She went on the trip with me.  I'm thinking it's going to be extremely helpful to talk to her about things I'm thinking/feeling.  Probability is high that she is feeling similarly.  I'm also tired and unable to sleep really.  I don't quite understand.  I do however understand my stomach which is not too happy about my food choices the past day and a half since I've been home.

Our group was warned that reverse culture shock is worst than the initial culture shock.  I'm going to have to agree with that statement.  I'm preparing, mentally to be slightly depressed for a little while until I readjust.

I truly had every intention of posting, at least once, from India.  This did not happen since I had internet about once a week and only long enough to check email.  Since this unexpected event happened, I have decided to edit and post my journal entries from my trip to provide insight into my personal transformations and adventures.  I'll be working on that for some time, so stay tuned.  My blog is not the only thing I didn't expect not to be able to do.  There were so many other things (which I will elaborate on later) that I could never have expected.  I don't know what I expected really or where those preconceived notions originated from, but things were more than I could have imagined.  I use 'more' since I don't know how to really describe so much of life there and the things I was immersed in.