Noteworthy

(Jan. 27) Before I forget, one mention about the Kolkata book fair. We almost had trouble getting there because our driver didn't speak English so we just named a landmark near the location. About ten seconds on the road, Tiffany remembers that she did in fact know the Bengali for "book fair"! Out of all words to know, obviously she would have learned this.

The book fair was decent (I mean, it wasn't a book great or anything); a grand location the size of the McLeod county fairgrounds, full of books in English, Bengali, and Hindi. Due to low blood sugar, I don't remember a good part of the afternoon except for being attracted to all books with the subject of Marxism and fascism, though I did not purchase anything because I already brought oodles of Russian lit to India. Lesson learned: feed me, Seymour.

Okay, but the actually notable part is we were interviewed for tv multiple times. Kate was the first target of the day. I know Kate's dad told her to keep a low profile in India, but as we clearly see with the fashion show and tv interviews, celebrity status is inevitable. Sorry, Dave, but it seems she was just made for stardom!

But we made it home in one piece!

(Jan. 29)
1) Thanks to new Indian friends, Becca, Tiff, and I successfully crashed another college's festival thing. We were primarily there during the time of a medium-to-hard rock band who did covers of such songs like Why This Kolavari (which to the ear untrained in Hindi sounds like "cold and bloody" which makes sense given the sort of band they were). I got some compliments from impressed Indian gals on my rockshow type of dancing; what can I say but "girl can't help it."


2) Becca and I found a treasure trove that is an AG church near park street! Very diverse (whites and non-Indian Asians) and some good old fashioned Praise in the Pub sort of worship.


I leave you with a song, just because:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCiOL7PIi0o
(but you should also look up Kolavari for good measure.)
Love love love.

Puja-palooza

(Jan. 28) To finish off our grand week of holidays, we celebrated the feast day of Saraswati. She is the goddess of a whole bunch of things including education, something very close to the hearts of many Indians. Consequently, everyone goes puja crazy. We threw on some saris (minus Drew, naturally) and girded our loins for some double puja madness. The day consisted of eating, making new friends, eating, making awkward conversation, eating, attempting to repeat something the priest mumbled while feebly throwing flowers at a statue, eating, and trying to convince servers that we wanted ABSOLUTELY NO MORE FOOD.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

The Indian moment I've been waiting for!

My host mom told me I was getting fat. I chuckled as I scooped another bowl of dessert.

Sa(ntiniketa)nanigans

Alternatively titled: Mystery Excursion: Tagore, Uncertainty, and the great Jumbo Slumbo

[Pre-emptive apologies for the itinerary style of this post.]

(Jan. 23-25) We zipped off for a few days to our first rural Indian experience, and suddenly, I could breathe again. During one heck of a swervy car ride through villages upon villages, past scores of cows, goats, hammer and sickle graffiti, and potato chip stands, we made it to S(h)an-ti-nik-i-tan (sound it out). Our place of lodging was considerably different from all up to this point; we stayed in a school building for a switcheroo. Quick introductory lesson: there's this dude named Tagore... and he runs this town. Well, historically so (he's been dead since 1941) but his legacy lives on, as legacies are wont to do. The whole trip was focused on him; Tagore, a poet, philosopher, song-writer, and Nobel prize winner, had a lot of things to say, and say them he did. He heavily influenced the towns of Santiniketan and Sriniketan with his view of education, that is: 

-Everyone should have it!

-We should be in constant communication with nature, so class outside except in X-treme weather

-People should have exploratory liberal artsy-type classes (ahem) instead of a defined academic path 

-It should be done not in a rigid setting like typical Indian schools (fun fact: Tagore went to Xavier's aka MY college for 2 months but dropped out because he did not like it--but that didn't stop them from dropping his name in their historical documentary). 

Blah blah Tagore Tagore Tagore. To be quite honest, I learned very very little about Tagore from the whole excursion because uncharacteristically, pretty much all the speakers were mumblegusses/had super heavy accents/weirdly held a hand in front of their mouths. It's cool though; I read a chapter on him when I got home and now feel like I know everything about his life.

This trip was one of blind ignorance. I found out where we were going two or three days before we left, only vaguely knowing who Tagore was, and we were given no information of what we were doing for any part of the excursion (three days! That's a whole flipping lot of mystery time). After arriving and some playground tomfoolery, it was evening, and we hopped back in our motorcade to an unknown destination. We learned upon arrival we were at an ashram, which is a Hindu monastery. Quick summary--lovely flashlight tour followed by a worship service that was actually pretty crazy (dancing with swords and incense and smelling fire eep). After returning, we had a traditional Baul (pronounced "bowel" -- father, I sense you chuckling immaturely) music performance and hit the sack.

The beardier, the better

Our next day consisted of going to a funky rural university, the original  touring a leather producing company (made of goat, not cow; I asked), and visiting Tagore's five homes--the guy collects houses the way Mughal emperors collect wives.  Following that, we saw a traditional dance involving balancing pots on heads. It was fun, but what the best part was the kiddos of the school who 1) got rambunctious with a few of our own members before the show began and 2) joined in when the dancers invited us up for some Bengali style get-down. I taught some impressionable young boys the "Yesssss." fist-action from Napoleon Dynamite. "Thank you, ma'am!"

What I really want to talk about here is our sleeping amenities. First night-- flipping freezing. Window open, thinnest blankets ever, and wooden cots with about an inch of thick fabric for our mattress which made us long for our board-like beds in Kolkata. Whine whine whine. The next day, all twelve girls gathered our beds in one room for a JUMBO SLUMBO and were given more blankets and it was considerably more pleasant. 

Bed tea makes for a happy camper.

Yup, great weekend. The country-side is awesome. But, as LeVar from Reading Rainbow would say, you don't have to take my word for it! Check it out!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9nFs2PeWw0

Apologies for lagging

So I fully planned for today to be a catch-up time for blogging; however, I have just decided that right now would be a good time to go to sleep. Faithful readers, thank you for continually hanging on my every word the way I know you do.

Until then, you know what I sort of like? Language barriers. Sure, they can be frustrating, but they really add spice to your life. Just sayin'.

I saw a girl at school wearing a Paris Hilton shirt; it was weird. I did other things as well.

We crawled over the old part of the city starting disturbingly early in the morning. Our tour guide was subpar, especially by comparison to the excellent ones we had all over north India. Apparently we didn't really go anywhere significant (or so says Kaka, I don't  disagree), mostly just places the tour guide had connections (such as at his ancestral home... Nice for him, but not so interesting for the rest of us). We failed to see Tagore's home and the Victoria Memorial, but we DID get to see a district of idol making and the wonderful Marble Palace! The Indians whom the British payed handsomely to submit to their authority decked this place to the max with Greco-Roman art and architecture. There was an overwhelming amount to take in; however, they told us we were not allowed to take pictures (and the guard had a big spear so we obeyed) so it's just another place to see for yourself. 

Victory picture; I danced away from the spear before I could be prodded

After eating a huge breakfast at 6AM, a traditional Bengali breakfast in a box at 10, and a terrible fancy lunch at the "Peerless Inn", we drowsily went to class in which we ate a cake. The zombies named Becca, Erik and Rita went to their first meeting at Prayasam, but more about that later. Service learning starts soon.

"Welcome"

Anyway, what I really want to say is there is no reason for tours to start that early. Also, Paris has absolutely no business here. Though I do love that hotel chain of hers, (the Delhi Hilton cradled me in comfort while I acclimated my first few days) I feel a personal duty to protect the Indian people from her brainwashing. 

That's hot.

"The day I thought I'd have my runway walk corrected by a professional model at my Jesuit college in India... That'd be the day."

Part 1 - Fashion.
To jog your memory, we tried out for a fashion show. We somehow got in (cough pale skin and height). All of a sudden, we found ourselves in a whirlwind of fashion show activity. If you were not previously aware, fashion-type people take themselves VERY seriously. We do not. This allowed us to remain detached and become mere observers of the strange culture. Everyone was really nice (except for Ma'am*, who was power tripping) but people just got a bit... tense. Personally, I think a contributing factor is that a great deal of American children play sports. From a young age, coaches and instructors tell you what you are doing wrong and what you can do to improve. Your spirit gets broken, you learn to pick up the pieces, you move on with your life. Perhaps Indians don't really experience this sort of criticism until later in life, so maybe they were just unaccustomed to the cruel corrections necessary to a good runway walk. Point being, practice everyday felt like an MTV reality show (tears and everything!).

Part 2 - Frivolity.
To be quite honest, I felt a little ridiculous for most of it. Though I knew I wouldn't get swept away by the ordeal, I still caught myself very often questioning if this was the best use of my time. Granted, it was only for a week, but still. People getting shallow and overly concerned with things that don't matter of course happens all the time in the US and it's still wrong, but it seems more logical because generally the wealthy (us included) lead lifestyles that keep them in a bubble. In India, such bubbles are not so encompassing. You can go to one of the best colleges in India, shop in big malls, and live in upscale neighborhoods, but the poverty will never decrease in visibility. The immediate contrast made the show seem absurd. 

However, this has helped my resolve on another point, to be active even when not immediately faced with someone in need. Poverty does not go away even when we do. Would it be cool with you guys if I left you with a challenge? Obviously I can only be vague with "help people" (find local projects yourself, toots) and "donate", but some quick links to quality organizations are:

-Compassion International (support an individual child http://www.compassion.com/ ), 

-Kiva (help people in third world countries start get their businesses running by making small investments that you completely get back! http://www.kiva.org/ ) and of course,

-The Heifer Project (donate farm animals for entrepreneurial endeavors http://www.heifer.org/ ). 

Sorry for interrupting your day with this, but seriously... It's the LEAST I can do.

Part 3 - Fury.
The show itself was jolly good fun. We had no school Friday because it was a holiday (of course), yet we showed up hours before the show for the extensive preparation process. All I can say is "oofta." I had been given a few pieces to my outfit the day before so I had a very obscure idea of what I was wearing. Please excuse my skepticism. It turned out neat though! I was in the "creative" section, so they went ballistic on my head and clothes, transforming me into a glittery yellow cakeface! (Please note: though I write this on Sunday, I have not yet touched my hair because I am afraid of detangling.) Kelsey looked stunning in a traditional Bengali sari and Kate quite regal in a look from the Mughal empire. For that matter, EVERYONE looked great! It all went down relatively smoothly. Go team. Conclusion: if you are going to be in a fashion show, pretty much just show up the day of because everything will change until that point anyway.

*We don't call any of our teachers by their names. Just "ma'am" (sounds like "mom") and "sir". In fact, we don't know their names at all. Sometimes we get to learn their initials. India is weird.

Sports plz (no shorts, plz)

Hear this, young women of the world: when wearing knee length basketball shorts, prepared to feel like the most scandalous of creatures alive when you take standard public transportation in India, for people will stare, shocked and aghast, at your pasty (and likely unshaved if you're anything like me) shins. Women do not show their legs here, though I have been informed by girls at school that this is because it is "winter" (most sarcastic of finger quotations).

After a great deal of confusion and poorly planned outfit coordination, CSBSJU kidz showed just their all-star quality by showing up to school with the knowledge that it was in fact Saturday. But certainly not just any Saturday, but a Saturday of SPORTS! Specifically track and field and random relays. The festivities began with a parade categorized by department (they don't have majors here, just a department you pick and are trapped in for life). Each department dressed similarly and held signs and did chants. Some were kinda lame (ahem...commerce & physics) but some (stats 'n' green chem) went all out crazy. Props to them. As we were not given much time to prepare, we wore a variety of CSBSJU apparel (and looked quite strapping, I might add) and were given an 8x13" sign on a stick entitled "Visiting students" announcing our powerful presence. However, due to our (mostly) glaringly white skin we were actually given thunderous applause as we passed the other students; they love us! 

The stats department plays their cards right

The races started with hurdles haphazardly raised to more or less the same height for first men then women (expert Courtney gave a "thumbs down" for form; harsh) and then a mix of other things, including regular races (I don't speak track, there may have been a 400 involved) but extending to stuff like "lady professors balancing a book on their head" and alum relays. We did America proud by garnering a few medals ourselves (but obviously not me personally! LOLOL) : Tiffany and Becca won the pingpong on paddle balance race (furthermore, Tiffany did a victory roundoff that shocked the saris off the older women in the front row), then Courtney and Adam won the partner run with a magazine between their palms.

You'd think they were doing this their whole lives

The ever-popular magazine-partner sprint, a staple in most track-n-field-a-thons

Sadly, Drew and Adam did not crush their opponents from their piggy back race no matter how much Adam screamed, "FASTER!" and swatted Drew's backside. 

Grabbing your horse's face will not make it run faster; Drew is similar in that respect

Americans--specifically Rachel-Ann and myself--should have been awarded a level for cheering. Though there were twelve of us out of the thousands, we accounted for approximately 70 percent of the noise. Not joking. Many jealous looks were thrown our direction, though in India, it seems that the expression for jealousy is strangely similar to disgust. Wow, it's tricky but always so fun learning cultural differences!

I will hold on hope, and I won't let you choke

Alternatively titled: Trevor Hall, Your Wish Is My Command

(Jan. 12) Kolkata as we hoped for: for a day of bonding, Kaka took us over the river (Ganges) and through the woods (purely metaphorical) to the Ramakrishna temple. It was Ramakrishna's birthday (hence a state holiday hence no school--the first of hopefully many days off) so there were a TON of people there. I'm talking MN state fair and then some.

Kaka pretended to be our tour guide, giving us all the history of the people and places, which is useful because we were born without an innate knowledge of Hinduism and Indian philosophy. Since it was a tad crowded, we decided after a bit to go visit the Dakshineswar Kali temple.

The Dakshineswar temple I have been itching to visit for quite some time because at his concert, Trevor Hall told Kelsey Kircher and me that it was his favorite place to visit in Kolkata when we asked for recommendations. Kaka visits there all the time and again gave us the tour guide lowdown though I knew a great deal of the info.

Some fun facts:

-The philosopher Ramakrishna lived there. Yup, same Ramakrishna! He's very famous here; he believed that Hinduism should accept all religions (his temple was built to reflect this in the architecture--Hindu, Buddhist, and Muslim, plus the floor outline is built in the shape of a cross) 

-Kolkata is believed to be named after the goddess Kali

-Kali is the goddess for the poor and farmers, and support for them is always something I can get behind

Other fun facts:

-I crossed myself with water from the Ganges-- Mixing genres, baby!

-We were given flowers to throw through the door at the statue but somehow I got confused and failed to do so

-There were puppies running around, normal because there are dogs everywhere here, but not normal because it looked like they were dyed pink

-We almost got taken out by a cow running through the crowd--it seriously came out of nowhere

-Kaka makes friends with everyone, including the guys who hold our shoes while we go in the temple. They loved us so much they danced for us.

-At the train station while we were waiting to leave, we had a Delhi flashback and found ourselves to be the center of attention from a large group of admirers who wanted pictures with us (of course). Kaka gave them a no-no, and then proceeded to befriend them all as they flocked into a crowd around us and continued to stare stare stare. This was unusual because in Kolkata, we haven't had a lot of staring like we did in Delhi, but then we find out... this group was from Delhi. It all makes sense!

Washed by the water.

As we went back, I was thinking as I stood in the open door of the train high on its track with the wind zipping through, this is the India I expected. Crowds, wiliness (people trying to cheat us because we're foreigners) yet friendliness (people trying to get to know us because we're foreigners), rich and poor living right next to each other, religious diversity, and despair contrasting with happiness. Especially the kind of happiness found purely in just being, despite all surrounding conditions and poverty. I may be speaking way too soon, but I think I am emerging victoriously though culture shock--a few days ago I was pretty disenchanted with all things Indian and now I am once again enamored. Maybe its just the mood in which I write, but I am quite joyous. 

However, I do not mean I love everything here-- the goddess Kali straight up freaks me out. 

Journey Into Space, Part One

Transportation in India is a funny thing (a dangerous, sociopathic, psycho thing). As of today, I have ridden rickshaws (both cycle and auto), a charter bus, the actual bus (of which you have to fearlessly jump on and off in motion), a car, the train, the metro, a camel, an elephant, an elevator, an escalator, etc. The daily route to school consists of two rickshaws then the metro. Each component is fun because first, you have to hail the rickshaws, make sure they don't cheat you because you're foreign, and not panic because they all drive like nothing you have ever seen before (after India, you will never again be stressed in traffic. There is no road rage here because otherwise everyone would likely die from constant anger-caused brain aneurisms). Then, you must get on the magical metro (which is surprisingly smooth like the butter on the muffin). The metro is fun because you don't even have to hold yourself up--the bodies of other people do it for you!

The high school experience I never had

Alternatively titled: The high school experience I thought I successfully avoided

Alternatively titled: "On Wednesdays, we wear salwars."

First day of school!

(Jan. 11) Apparently, though I skipped the teenage experience thanks to a smooth middle to high school transition at my 7-12th grade school, I am given a second chance! What joy! Becca, Tiff and I journeyed to school bright and early, made it past the demonic Santa in the park alive, and safely arrived without trouble. We parted ways with TIff, found Courtney, and went to class. We sat together, sticking out like a very pale sore thumb, as the Indian students filed in. Class wasn't what I expected. It was very high schoolish (complete with Plastics who swept in fashionably late and plopped in the front row--we sit in pews!), very short, and not very informative. This is first day judgment; I have hopes it will improve.

The afternoon was spent searching for activities to join. One thing turned into another, and we were auditioning for a fashion show which then turned out to be super intense, infiltrating the Plastics, and then with my persuasiveness and her natural propensity for stardom, Kate ended up singing Fallin' by Alicia Keys in a talent show for hundreds of students. We then only got slightly lost on the way home.

Sometimes I feel like I am the tallest person in India

But then I remember Erik and Becca are here too.

We are a troop of unregistered illegal aliens

(Jan. 10) So you find yourself a little miffed at the DMV for something like, oh, having to renew your driver's license on your birthday, right? Take heart in knowing that however bad American bureaucracy is, Indian is ten times worse. Either that or they specifically hate us and never want to let us register. They play us for fools, making us hunt for form after extensive form, which we fill out and present to them only then to have them deem it insufficient. I think Sucharita was dangerously close to beating up like five people (including the guy shamelessly playing Brick at the office). So are we registered? Only time will tell. Time and perhaps a vengeful Indian homeland security. 

"The day I thought I'd be shushed for singing John 3:16 at dinner in my Jesuit college in India... is a day I never thought I'd see."

(Jan. 9) So we had been settling in our internet-free Indian homes for a few days when we were rudely interrupted by this whole "school" thing. We'll come back to transportation, but skipping ahead to school: we now attend the fine institution of St. Xavier's College on Park Street in Kolkata. After a mess of paperwork, we skipped off to an extensive orientation including a reunion with Xavier students (or "Xavarians" if you will) who visited MN, chats with the principal, and a documentary of the school's history that featured a piano version of Walking In Memphis. 

We had a terribly fancy dinner afterwards in which we were tricked into thinking we were the special guests until these students from Manitoba (imagine that said with all the scorn in my being) came in with traditional elegant Indian dress while we were wearing jeans and t-shirts. Whatever. I ate so much dessert I almost threw up and it was awesome.

Remember Kate's eating habits from Spain?

As you may recall, Kate in Spain was kind of an NFF ("no food forever"), forcing me to eat the majority of her meals due to pickiness and strange lack of hunger (caused by Coke and chips). I sucked it up and ate her food, even if I wasn't crazy about it. Here, strangely, it is the opposite. Kate is a big fan of Indian food, loves spiciness, and is adventurous in her choices. I am the really picky one who is timid about trying new things. I am baffled as to how this shift in the universe occurred.

Speaking of Spain, I guess trinkets are more universal than I anticipated...

I mean, it's no Land of the Dolls, but in a way...

Indians Don't Understand Ketchup

Alternatively titled: Sari I'm Not Sari

(Jan. 7) Because we are currently unregistered illegal aliens, we have to fill out an exorbitant amount of paperwork due to Indian bureaucracy. We woke at the crack of dawn (or 7:30...whatever) as per Kakima's request, and joined Erik, Adam, and their host brother for a fun day of frustration. After sorting that out, we went to a "city center" nearby (aka the mall), ate pizza and debated the proper use of condiments.

That evening, we went to "puja" which is Hindi for worship. It was some goddess's feast day or something and our host parents' son's parents-in-law were throwing the celebration. Kakima let us have our pick from her infinite number of saris, so all the gals got dressed up by our housekeeper's daughter (who, coincidentally, is named Puja). Apparently puja consists of eating, because that's really all we did. Well, and bell-ringing and the occasional chant, but we didn't participate in that. The five of us collectively talked about how frustrating Indian food is (especially when no one explains it) because you have absolutely NO idea what it will taste like until you try it, and things look like other things so you may be expecting one thing and get quite another. Ah well, uncertainty (and reciprocity) is the spice of life.

The Meeting of the Moms

(Jan. 6) After a day of lazing and Dostoevsky, it was time. We gathered in the Sapphire conference room at the "Senator" (the name of our hotel; yeah right) and my host parents were the first to show up by far, actually meeting us in the lobby before it was even close to time to start. After an awkward and informative meeting about cell phones and foreign registration (which, if we don't fill out properly, might result in the same trouble last year's group had: a dramatic airline worker ripping up their tickets and the Indian government preventing them from leaving the country), we drank some tea, said a tearful goodbye to our other CSBSJU compadres--particularly Courtney and Kate!!!!--and moved on out. 

My host parents are a couple in their late sixties/early seventies named Swardesh and Sheela Basu. However, they prefer us calling them the Bengali terms for "uncle" and "aunt"-- our host dad is Kaka (Spanish speakers, no smart comments) and host mom Kakima. They both happen to be American citizens as well, as they lived in NYC for many years. They were economists on Wall Street working for Leeman Brothers (before they became scranjulous, naturally) and it served them well in life. Kaka wears a sweater over a collared shirt, a newsboy hat, and smart shoes. He is a huge sweetheart and tells us we do not even need to go school because HE will educate us about art, history, literature, poli sci and Bengali language. I feel he will emerge as the jokester of the family. Our mom, Kakima, is also sweet but in a rather frightening way. She is very direct and goal oriented, concerned about our needs and what is best for us. I like her, but I am still wary. However, I can tell the nervous-pervous-ness will soon pass, as it did with Sucharita. Indians are considerably more blunt, and I, a sensitive Minnesotan sort, am unaccustomed to such forward mannerisms. 

As it turns out, we live in a PALACE. Our home is in the northern part of Kolkata, practically a city of its own, named Salt Lake City (which I am sure is very confusing to the average globetrotting Mormon). Kaka explained that we live in a high profile neighborhood, not just for the wealthy but also the high in status. It looks veeeery different from the rest of India I have experienced thus far. Becca and I share a room; Tiffany and Brenna share a room; Drew shares a room with a young professional on the roof of the house through the open rooftop garden. Kaka and Kakima have a housekeeper/cook named Anima who is adorable and doesn't speak English. Her daughter and husband live here too and work a bit for K&K but do other things too. K&K also have a driver. (While writing this section, I realized that even though that's technically what they are, the term "servant" weirds me out.)

Our first dinner was a bit more relaxing. For some reason, I have been fearing since I applied for India that my host parents would force me to eat spicy foods even if I explain I can't really. Happy day, they say if it is too spicy, I don't need to eat it! That actually released quite a bit of anxiety I've been harboring. Spicy food makes me so nervous...and it's unavoidable. Anyway, night night, sleep tight, and don't let the small children bite off your fingers.

Home Sweet Home

(Jan. 5) Wooo wooo wooooo CALCUTTA!

After a rather bumpy flight in both the take off and landing (Daddy, I understand what you were saying about seeing Indians running off the plane and vomiting on the tarmac), we are finally HERE! First impressions: Kolkata looks WAY more modern than Delhi. More condensed with bigger buildings, it looks like an American city instead of just continual development and breakdown like we've seen in all the cities before. While I didn't see any speed limits on the big roads, there were many official road signs offering quasi-inspirational safety messages, like "Take Your Time, Not Your Life" "Time is Money, but Life is Precious" "No Hurry, No Worry" and so on.

Our hotel, however, is a little ridiculous, at least compared to the past few we've been in. 

Our "triple"... aka our '70s inspired room with two twin beds pushed together and three pillows. Thought they could pull the wool over our eyes, eh?

Meeting of the moms tomorrow. Gotta rest up.

From Hutch to Taj (Ain't No Mirage)

(Jan. 4) The night before, our leaders made the critical decision that THIS would be the day we saw the Taj Mahal, for if we went at sunrise tomorrow as scheduled, we would be disappointed because the mornings are just so foggy. Well then, to the Taj, ho! We left for Agra bright and early, and after a stop at another Mughal palace (ho hum), we were THERE.

As usual, there were those just up to monkey business...

So, the whole "Taj Mahal" dealio--MAGNIFICENT. Those 17th century Muslims really know how to build a tomb. If you didn't know the story, a Mughal king built it for his wife when she died as a testament to her beauty. Yeah, it's like a pretty mausoleum, but what's the big deal? Can't be THAT good, right? WRONGO! It is seriously one of the coolest things I have ever seen in my life. World wonder status is DESERVED 100%. Pictures do not do it justice: white, glowing, perfect-- and up close, everything was so intricate! 

BE HERE NOW.

In all its shining glory, the Taj was a perfect wrap up to our Indian excursion. We laughed, we cried, we took jumping pictures like the foolish Americans we are, and most importantly, we learned that true love is when you make your young emperor husband promise on your death bed that he will build a monument to you then forbid him from ever marrying again. 

We wish to return to gaze upon your splendor once more, but until then...

Hasta la vista, Tajjy.

Last piece of Rajastan

(Jan. 3) This evening, we went to this odd festival on the outskirts of Jaipur demonstrating traditional Rajastani food and culture. After riding some camels (happy and sad, like the elephants) and dancing both with turban-wearing men and traditional but blinged-out girls, we sat down to an authentic Rajastani meal. As with most Indian foods, the dinner was MUY caliente (minus a few sugary items I could eat). Indian food seems to come in three flavors: bland (bread), sweet (yussss), or death. More about food later... Next stop: Agra! 

FINALLY INTERNET ACCESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SORRY FOR THE HIATUS! I AM BACK IN FULL FORCE

Aaaand catch-up posting begins...NOW

"Thinking is not good for the head or beauty; just buy"

Uhhhrrrrnggg.

I think I have had my fill of Jaipur. 

Started today with a rickshaw ride around the old part of the city. Rickshaws can either be motorized or cycle, and they function as leetle teeny taxis. Our group hopped on a bunch of cycle rickshaws which would have been cool, but Kate's and my driver/cyclist was practically falling apart. He was old, skin and bones, and had some sort of weird ailment of the skin. You could tell how hard he had to work to get us around. When going uphill, the rickshaw men have to get off and push the bike; it looked like he was struggling, and Kate and I wondered why we really just couldn't walk this? I know letting him take us got him paid plus the tip we gave him, but still. The ride was definitely tainted. That's how a lot of things were in Delhi, but far more so here: the elephant ride, the rickshaw ride, the shopping, just being here. So many instances that I don't even want to write down. We essentially are taking a vacation when people are literally starving on the street. In order to enjoy ourselves we have to shut out the people in pain, and that's definitely not how I want to become. I am looking forward to living in a home and going to school where I'll be getting to know people rather than ignoring them or they trying to sell me things. Also, in Calcutta I will have the opportunity to volunteer and actually DO something to help people instead of feeling guilty and powerless. 

In the time being, it will be, as Kingshuk says, just another scene in the reality tv series of life.

Whatever that means.

Paying for internet delays posts

I seriously promise to stop giving you comprehensive descriptions of everything I do...

Eventually.

Sunday: Arrived safe and sound in Jaipur. It is known as the Pink City because throughout the old part of the city, it is, you guessed it, super embarrassed. 

PSYCH! It's "pink" (truly more on the apricot side, let's be honest). (APRICOT CITY DOES NOT HAVE THE SAME RING TO IT) Jaipur is located in the province of Rajastan, which means Land of Kings-- raja=king, -stan=land (e.g., Land of Paki, Land of Afghan, etc LOL). It's famous for textiles, jewels and gold and everything seems to be pretty elaborate here; our hotel is smaller and less cushy than the Hilton but everything is fancier (which I guess I loosely define as being made of marble). We explored last night and were rewarded with 1) a single firework on the roof of our building, accompanied by an Indian woodwind instrument covering Seal's "Kiss From A Rose" and 2) Kingshuk taking us to a local park that was totally worth it.

Monday: Woke up bright and early, as we planned to leave at 7:45. We were running a few minutes late, which turned out not to matter because Sucharita and Kingshuk waltzed into breakfast just as we were finishing. They are on India time. Oh, you're not familiar? India Time, similar to a lot of European Time, warps to fit YOU. Or whoever is later than you are. Americans are a little more picky about time being timely, but at least we're not Japanese (who, as Courtney tells me, announce an apology at the train station if they are ONE MINUTE BEHIND SCHEDULE). So we leave at 8:15, whatevs, riding through the Pink City until we come to the base of the mountain atop which sits the Amber Palace.

And guess how one ascends such a majestic mountain? By elephant, no less! I LIKE ELEPHANTS SO MUCH. In this portion, words are useless for describing how it looked, please view pictures for a better representation. However, it was (as Courtney put it) a "PETA nightmare". I felt really sad for the elephants; Kelsey and I were riding on a baby and a guy walking on the road behind us hit it and yelled at it. So even though it was really cool to hang out with elephants on a beautiful mountain, it was unfortunately tainted by the unethical structure.

Then we toured the heck out of the Amber Palace, explored various nooks and crannies, learned about the drama of the king and his twelve (official) wives--scranjulous, let me tell you--and took a jeep back down the mountain. 

After that, it was kind of a whirlwind of sly sales. We went to a textile and rug making place which was pretty cool (even the part that felt like a car sales lot, complete with slick salesguy) and gave us chai, a jewelry place (something cool about it is that there's no security! Apparently jewels are such a pride of the Indian people that no one even attempts to rob it. This is not permission or encouragement to try), and then some sort of "artisan market"... Whatever. Then to a bunch of the king's sundials to have the process of horoscopes explained (oddly mathy). It was after six at this point which meant that we had been touring for TEN HOURS. I was DONE for the day at 11AM. Zomb zomb zomb.

Additional notes:

-In one day, we saw three things in the Guinness Book of World Records! A very fancy rug (most knots per square inch--four thousand something), world's largest sundial, and a large water vessel (I sort of wasn't paying attention to the story here). It was indeed as exciting as it all sounds.

-People today were per-sis-tent when it came to selling to us. Jaipur is pretty dang touristy which means that while we didn't have to contend with staring and paparazzi, people were ALL up in our faces about selling. It happened everywhere: the line leading up to the elephants, while we were ON the elephants, before we went into the palace, immediately when we exited the palace, in stores, out of stores, on a boat, with a goat, in a box, with a fox, etc. The rug guy was definitely the smoothest, but HOLY COW. NONSTOP PEOPLE. I feel bad being rude and just not acknowledging anyone as we walk past, but if you even make eye contact, they will follow you around, and I don't want that. I don't like that it's becoming normal to ignore...

-There are SO MANY ANIMALS HERE. <3 <3 <3 In Delhi, we saw dogs and one cow (Kate thought she saw a second one but it turned out to be two guys in raincoats on a bike). In one day alone we saw elephants (doy), dogs (who are all so nice, I have not even heard barking since being in India), camels, cows (including bulls and one lone dairy cow), a horse, sheep, donkeys, a cat, monkeys, goats, a "hand llama" (Ro...), and flockloads of pigeons. "It's like we're in a petting zoo but I can't touch anything." -Courtney. Decision: I am going to found RETA- Rita Encourages Touching Animals. If I had my way, I'd be snuggling with every dog on the street.

-My dad sent me an email entitled "digestive health". It was awesome. Daddy, you're hilarious. I love you, parents. (And don't worry, I did switch back to bottled water for brushing my teeth here.)

And gentle readers, I love you too.