The semester comes to a close

So after the Diwali festivities, right around the corner was Halloween. When initially deciding on a semester to go abroad, I ruled out the fall because of the seasonal changes that I love coupled with my favorite holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving, and the first half of advent (including lessons and carols at Muhlenberg). It was only after heavy consideration of other factors like limited course selection opportunities at school and post graduate scholarship applications that I decided to go in the fall. I have to admit that hearing about apple picking, colorful leaves, and overnight frosts has issued my largest pangs of homesickness, but I guess I knew that when I signed on.

Halloween for me is all about how the environment and individual mentality is prompted to change. It’s a time that signifies entrenchment into yet another school year and provides a time to react (is that the right word?), in the sense that there’s this whole focus on being scared, scaring others, and in general shifting the focus of mentality onto a world that’s opposite to overtly excited festivals that characterize any other holiday. All the while there’s a hushed anticipation for the continuation of fall into winter and all that it brings. It’s all part of a cycle, just like the seasons, where each turn offers its own dimension to the shape of the wheel. Halloween to me is quite a landmark in the yearly cycle, and it was very strange to be disconnected from it.

I had been listening to music that I usually do during the Halloween season to kindof put myself in the spirit of things. Additionally the exchange students were planning on some sort of costume party. Although I enjoyed seeing Halloween enthusiasm, I wasn’t planning on dressing up in costume; that’s not really why I’m excited about the holiday.

One of the best parts of the day for me was watching Tori open a package from home and take out all my candy favorites, including licorice, starbursts, and candy corn; her aunt had sent them, probably with only a faint hope that it could coincidentally arrive on the day of Halloween. It was quite the treat to have some; I haven’t had candy like that upon arriving in India where sour candy doesn’t seem to exist, just various candy bars and caramels.

Packages from home are probably the most exciting thing ever; a few weeks ago I received one from my friends, Bekki and Dan, at Muhlenberg. They sent my favorite snack foods (consumed shortly after opening the package) along with Halloween decorations (which I excitedly put on display throughout my room) and other jokey things which I could talk about but really are only funny to our circle of friends. I took everything out of that package with a continual awe that everything had come all the way from home. That means that no matter what it is, it’s three times as exciting.

That afternoon I went with some friends to the supermarket near the university to shop around for extra candy and costume supplies. I was able to find but one lonely beige pumpkin in the vegetable section; I was intending on at least trying to carve it.

Back at the guest house that evening I helped some people get into their costumes (which included painting John entirely blue as a smurf and encasing Matt in cardboard and tin foil to look like a robot). I also got a butcher knife from the kitchen and carved my lonely pumpkin with triangle eyes and a toothy grin. I also separated out all the seeds from the pulp just like I always do. We lit it outside in front of the hostel with an oil lamp used just the day before for the Diwali festival.

All dressed up and taking bags of caramels with us, a dozen of us or so paraded around the campus wishing people a Happy Halloween and giving them candy. That’s not how the tradition works, but I guess we were forced to improvise. Once or twice we could get an Indian to say “trick-or-treat” before we handed over a caramel, but that was usually coupled with a confused face that didn’t quite know exactly why there were strange foreigners dancing around and dressed as who-knows-what. It was also difficult for many to grasp what Halloween was when we’d try to explain it; I guess that makes sense though when you contrast it to the deity worship and pujas that constitute a lot of the holidays here. Whether or not the students of the campus knew what was happening, they were at least excited to take candy from us, which is the most I could have hoped for I guess. It was such a different and comical sight to see all of us parading around the international student’s hostel, a typically quiet place where girls aren’t supposed to enter as the night draws on.

Back at the guesthouse we watched “The Nightmare Before Christmas” which concluded our festivities. It had been a funny little Halloween. Although I was a tad disoriented outside of the normal ‘cycle’ of things, I was really appreciative of how uniquely everything had turned out.

After Halloween it was time to get pumped for the elections. About a dozen exchange students went on Wednesday morning (Tuesday night) to the nearby Novotel, an upscale hotel where I’d been before to visit Joe Nicholas. There in one of the conference halls they had a large pull down screen with the CNN coverage of the election process as well as a really tasty breakfast buffet. It seemed that everyone there (all foreigners) was cheering for Obama, and after every state that became recognized as ‘blue’ there followed claps and cheers. The other exchange students and I were interviewed, filmed, and photographed, as I guess it was exciting for reporters to get the perspective of actual Americans. Several of my friends and I ended up on the front page of the ‘Deccan Chronicles’ newspaper; and I specifically was quoted throughout the article. They didn’t quite get my words 100% right (I never did call Obama a “happening man” as the article explained), but it was no big deal because it still conveyed our general opinions about Obama’s election.

Back at the guest house that afternoon everyone was shouting and hollering with each other. Many students were pumped about how the representation of America was finally changing into something they approved of and supported. My Indian friends were practically equally as excited; Obama’s a big hit over here. The elections for the university were actually coincidentally held on the same day…I overheard a conversation that afternoon between two students: “SO did you hear about the election results yet?” *No, I think the university is still counting the votes* “No, not that, OBABMA was elected!”

Although my Indian friends were congratulating me on the election, I hadn’t had a say in the matter; my absentee ballot didn’t show up until a few days after the election. I had sent in the request form about a month ago, but I guess I didn’t realize how unpredictable the mail service was. I chuckled under my breath when the ballot finally reached the guest house, as I tossed it into the garbage.

On Thursday, the big SIP cultural performance had finally arrived. All of the lessons we’ve been taking were to be put to use in a big performance with the university public as the audience. I’ve been taking lessons in sitar, tabla, and kathak dance everyday for about 3 months, and now finally it was time to showcase what we had all learned. The performance was totally left to us, there was no predetermined program. It was necessary to know who was performing during which acts, which order they’d be in, whether bouquets for the teachers would be ordered, whether mics or lighting was needed, etc. I had never planned something like that before, and I don’t think any of the other SIP students really had either. Unfortunately many were away traveling which made it difficult to get a head-count and to determine which acts were really being performed.

The past week had been full of practicing…with three new things to learn, even if you practiced a little everyday, it adds up to a lot! Whether or not I knew that the performance would be organized enough to even occur, I tried to put everything else aside to practice so at least if there were a show, I could perform my best. The performance had kindof creeped up on me; all of the sudden there was this rush to put everything together, and it had its consequences. My left index finger was constantly sore and blistering from the sitar; I guess I hadn’t had enough time to fully develop sufficient calluses. At one point the sitar string literally cut into the skin while I was practicing and split it open like a bad paper cut. Kathak was no piece of cake either. Along with periodically suffering from what felt like bruises in the bones of my feet, the surface of my heels was going through some major trauma. They just weren’t meant for such pounding I guess! The entire heel was a blister, and continued to blister the more I would practice. That meant I had blisters underneath and overtop the blisters I already had. At some points during my lessons one would break open and leak out fluid on the floor. During such points I knew it was time to rest for some time. I wasn’t used to being prevented from practicing because of physical discomfort; it was a strange thing to experience, and although it added to my feeling of urgency to put in enough practice by performance time, it also contributed to a sense of “well, there’s really nothing more I can do, so might as well just let things play out as they are going to.” Chummah, it simply is what it is.

The auditorium was filled to the brim. I’m not quite sure how the performance was advertised, but Indian students and teachers continued to flow in until there were no seats left; it was no small venue either. Backstage was also equally as crowded with practically every SIP student preparing whatever art they had been learning; in addition to about 8 sitar players, there were maybe the same number of tabla players, me and Mindi dancing Kathak, about half a dozen Kuchipudi dancers, vocalists, and students doing skits for their Hindi class. All were putting in some frenzied last minute practice, trying to organize the final order, or getting properly dressed; my costume for kathak took about 40 minutes or so to prepare, complete with makeup.

In general things went quite well, sometimes there were awkward gaps between acts (you can imagine with no dress rehearsal, you never quite know what’s going to happen), but nothing went so wrong as to stop the entire performance at least, that’s a plus. The crowd really seemed to enjoy Mindi’s and my kathak, especially the difficult and rapid footwork.

Whereas the first half of the performance was us showcasing what we had learned, the second half was us displaying what we knew. Included was a rap that the Sarahs had composed about India, complete with a beat-boxer. The crowd didn’t really know how to take such a performance; even though it was an awesome and funny rap and some Indians really enjoyed it, most offered hesitant applause and confused looks on their faces. I also sung some pieces with Tori, Caitie, and Miykaelah; we’d been practicing some songs that we had all previously sung in school choirs in the States (mostly madrigals) and decided to show the university students the music that we would be singing at any given performance at school. It was an interesting sight: us dressed up in sharvanis and salwars singing my favorite western choral works. The performance was recorded on a DVD; if I can get it back to the States unscathed, anyone who would like to view it may!

That weekend was filled with final examinations for the yoga course I’ve been attending. We had one day of internal practical assessments where we performed asanas for the instructors (memorizing those names in Sanskrit was quite the task), another day of written exams on the philosophy, physiology, and theory of yoga, as well as another day of practical exams issued by someone who had come from an external association. I didn’t know what to say for much of the written portion, but it was easy enough to write fluff that maybe the instructors would appreciate. I wasn’t invested in it as much as a regular class anyway; I don’t really need a certificate in yoga.

My feats during the examinations included performing a head-stand in front of the class for what seemed like about half a minute as well as cleaning the nose out by pouring warm salt water in one nostril to have it run out the other (fortunately we had practiced these things before). After something like 12 hours of testing, I shifted my focus to classes, as final exams term projects were looming.

The next Tuesday CIEE had a re-entry orientation at the Walden, the resort we had initially all stayed at two weeks upon first coming to India. It was really a unique experience to be back there and provided an interesting opportunity for reflection on how we as people and a whole group have changed over the past few months. Nothing really was said during our orientation lectures that was shocking…I left with the same conceptualization that it will be hard to go back to the States, but there’s not a ton one can do about that.

That night I started studying for my philosophy final the next afternoon. We had covered many schools of Indian philosophical thought during that class and how exactly I was going to absorb everything this late in the game I wasn’t quite sure. At about 10 pm I typed up all my notes into an outline (about 7 pages single spaced) and just reviewed it over and over. I had fallen asleep on a chair in the guest house common room; Spencer was fortunately there to wake me up, knowing that I needed to study for the test despite how tired I was. The next morning I crammed as much information as I could, walked into the exam, and vomited it all up. That’s how my tests here have worked basically. You always select from a list of questions to answer from, so rather than knowing everything, it helps to know some things very well. Of course then you never know what will be on a test, and sometimes you’re left with having to write a response that you’re pretty much fibbing. I was able to select topics that I knew well enough though, 3 long answer and 6 short answer, and left after three hours with a good feeling about it. I didn’t have too long to relax, as it was time to travel again.

Hampi used to be the capital of the Vijayanagar Empire, which ruled in South India up to the Mughal rule during the late medieval era. It was an empire that retained its uniquely ‘Indian-ness,’ holding fast against the transient foreign power shifts of the north (first being ruled by Arabs, then the Mughals, etc.). You hear from any traveler how beautiful it is, and I had wanted to go there until I first heard about it upon coming to India. Ironically it was the first place I wanted to visit, but I didn’t get around to it until now, the very end of the program.

I was traveling with Amanda, Tess, Julia, and Anuj (one of the Hindi peer tutor university students). Although I had never traveled with these people before, we had become good friends throughout the semester, and I was sure we’d get along. The seats that we had reserved were filled when we boarded the train; when we found a conductor he told us that our tickets had actually been upgraded due to open spaces. I’m not quite sure what favored our sleeper tickets over the other passengers; Anuj seemed to think it was because we were foreigners though. We were upgraded to A/C two tier, the most upscale I’ve traveled on train so far. No only were there blankets, sheets, and pillows provided, but there were curtains each person could pull around his or her bed as well as reading lights and more space etc. Quite the treat :)

At a stop a foreign girl about our age approached us to ask where we had gotten our biryani dinners from. I could tell right away that she was a really sociable person, and we all started talking. Victoria is from Austria; she had been living in Hyderabad for a week visiting a friend and was now on her own, traveling to Hampi and Goa before heading back home in two weeks so. She remained talking with us until we all decided to go to bed. We had asked if she wanted to tag along with us during our stay in Hampi, so we were planning on meeting up again in a few hours when the train would arrive in Hospet. Lying in my bed, the window was at my face, and I loved just lying and watching the moon-lit terrain go by.

The train, although an hour or so late initially in Hyderabad, was early to Hospet (that has happened before, and we had anticipated it, I guess they can make up for lost time in the night be speeding up or something). It was 5 am or so and, sleepy-eyed and not wanting to get up from my warm covers, it was all I could do to check and recheck that I had all my stuff with me. Although the station was dark, there was no sign of Victoria and we imagined that she was still asleep. The doors to the train unfortunately had closed behind us and locked; they do that to prevent people without tickets from boarding during the night. We tried many cars, each one was locked shut. Somehow Anuj was able to get into one and find his way to Victoria, who in fact was still asleep.

Fully assembled, we easily found a rickshaw (the drivers know when the trains are coming in with tourists) to take us to Hampi, a 30-40km drive or so, for only rs. 100 ($2). By the time we had arrived, it was light and we were able to navigate around the main Hampi bazaar for a guest house.

Hampi is a pretty touristy place; not only can you usually find a foreigner walking down the road, but you can tell that the services in the area cater to a tourist population. The souvenirs on sale, and food served at restaurants, the activities available, the prevalence of guest houses…you could tell that this wasn’t an India that we were used to.

That morning Julia, Amanda, Victoria, and I rented motor bikes for the day. After our breakfast of nutella pancakes and banana coconut lassi, we were off exploring. Although I had never driven a motorized bike before, the ones we rented were more like mopeds than what you’d think of as a motorcycle, and after some embarrassing practicing, we were ready to drive. First we had to go get more petrol; the tanks hadn’t been filled for the whole day. On the way there, Victoria’s bike stopped working and refused to start even after we had filled its tank. We rode back to the rental place and asked for a new one, which they provided at no more cost. They also went to go pick up Victoria’s bike that we had left at the gas station.

We were off again and stopped to meander at a site with stone ruins and a big water tank that we spotted. After some pictures we continued to move onward; as I turned back to look though I couldn’t find Victoria. After a half minute or so she came around the bend looking frazzled. Evidently her bike was malfunctioning or something; it wouldn’t start when she tried and suddenly it drove off with her partially on it, leaving her with a gash in her knee from falling and the bike itself toppled over down a bank. She seemed fed up with her malfunctioning bikes and decided to head back to the room to rest for a while. Amanda, Julia, and I continued on; we spotted a dirt path that diverged from the road and decided to see where it would take us.

This dirt road continued for kilometers and weaved all through some of the most striking scenery I’ve ever seen. I’ve heard so many compliments about the nature at Hampi. When I had initially gotten there though, I was somewhat disappointed to see the same kind of surrounding environment that I was used to in Hyderabad; upon seeing the environment outside of the populated bazaar though, my disappointment melted away into awe.

I guess I had expected Hampi to be very lush and green with maybe pretty flowers or something. That was part of it. What I ended up falling in love with though were the noticeable contrasts: Not only were there lush green trees and streams, but also nearby there was complete rocky dryness. Our dirt path would navigate its way through irrigated banana tree patches and flowing streams hugged by thick greenery, but also bouldery mountains towered in the distance, landmarks of a different landscape characterized by dusty gravel, prickly bushes, and dry rockiness. It was like you could enjoy a desert and a pseudo rain forest at the same time; it made it seem like wherever you were was a unique oasis.

We continued on for a while, stopping periodically to take in the wide views and shocking landscape. At an intersection we ran into a jaggery factory (not as big as ‘factory’ would lead you to believe, maybe only the size of a few rooms. I first came across Jaggery in Mysore; it’s made by boiling sugar cane juice to leave a solidified unrefined, tasty sugar. The factory had four large (maybe 7 feet across) vats in which sugar cane juice was boiled and many ground trays to let it settle and cool. The workers there didn’t know much English, but I guess we could kindof communicate with hand signals and the limited Telugu (Kannada and Telugu are similar Dravidian languages) and Hindi we know. They seemed excited to have us as guests, as they offered us as much jaggery as we could fit in our hands. Also they would roll actual sugar canes in the trays of sticky cooling sugar liquid to make this lollipop-like treat. You’d eat it by scooping it off with your fingers; it had the consistency of gooey, warm caramel. They also gave us sugar cane to eat; you have to bite/peel off the outer woody layer first before biting into the juicy center. After gnawing on it for a few minutes, you’d spit out the remainder of the cane and take another bite. We were there for a good hour and half. Oh yes, I forgot, a worker asked me to marry her daughter as well; I politefully declined.

Filled with sugary goodness and sticky all over, we continued back to Hampi Bazaar. Our phones unfortunately didn’t get any service in the area, so we had no idea what everyone else was up to, but we were able to find Victoria in the room, good as new having showered and rested. The four of us went for food nearby at the ‘Garden Paradise Restaurant.’ Eateries in Hampi are experts at providing terraced ground seating that overlooks a river or other nature scene. I had last seen that in Goa; evidently it’s a feature that the tourist culture enjoys. Who wouldn’t enjoy eating delicious food overlooking such magnificent nature?

After eating, we traveled back to our dirt path to climb up a huge boulder mountain that we had spotted earlier. There were stone steps all the way to the top where a temple sat overlooking other rocky mountains with green leafy jungles at their bases, periodically interrupted by stone temples and palaces. We watched the sun set and made it back to Hampi Bazaar before it got too dark.

Back in the bazaar two men approached me, strangely dressed with colorful robes and turbines having a peacock feather poking out the front. They asked if I wanted to see some magic. I wasn’t especially interested, but I had time because everyone else was in a nearby shop looking at clothes. One of the men started singing and opened up his bag as he kneeled down. His act consisted of ‘turning’ balls of metal into miniature idols by moving his hands around and stuff. He also spit up about half a dozen golf ball sized stones into his hands, finishing with one the size of a small orange. I had no idea where these rocks had come from; it was pretty intriguing. The other man gave me a book with written names; next to each name was a country and a number. He claimed these were tourists he had performed for earlier and asked for a donation. Evidently the numbers listed were the ‘donations’ others had offered. Although I was thinking something like rs. 10 or 20, all the other listed numbers were 100s, 200s, and 500s. Feeling confused at what to do, I offered a 100. The other man asked for another 100, but I told him one was enough. You see they keep asking for more and more. Even if you give a beggar a few rupees, he or she will unsatisfactorily ask for 10. After the fact, the bike vender (his name is pronounced ‘keesh’) told me that they themselves wrote these names in the book with fake numbers. It was an interesting ploy, one that fed off of the tendencies one has to go along with the crowd. You never know what silly schemes they’ll come up with.

After more shopping around, we reconvened at the restaurant we had eaten at earlier for dinner and lassis (yogurt drink with any number of different flavorings). The restaurant had no chairs, just comfortable padded bed-like cushions on which you could lay or sit and chat or snack off of the low-level tables. The music was also really good there; we ended up staying and talking for quite some time before going back to our room to sleep.

The next day we woke up kindof late; after a brunch at the ‘Mango Tree,’ a tasty outdoor restaurant that Lonely Planet recommends, and more wandering around the temples (including the huge one in the center of Hampi Bazaar) and banana tree farms, we said goodbye to Victoria, as she was on her way to Goa. I’m really glad we met up with her; she was a ton of fun to talk to and spend time with. After having dinner at a rooftop restaurant, we took a walk around the bazaar.

The next day I did more exploring: through a muddy banana tree farm, a dry dusty temple area, a raft ride across the river, and a hike up a mountain to the ‘Monkey Temple.’ Along the way I was sure to get some bananas and coconut that was being sold alongside the road. Karnataka is known for its bananas and coconuts, and they were definitely the tastiest snacks I could ask for. The Monkey Temple had amazing views just like I was expecting; it also had a slue of playful monkeys that would hop around, make noises at you, and even take your stuff if you weren’t careful.

Hmm, after that there were some rickshaw rides, more shopping around, more temple explorations, and finally we convened at the “Chill Out” restaurant, complete with my favorite cushion seat/beds and pillows, along with colorful paint and black lighting. After a quick thali and a goodbye to ‘keesh’ (our bike rental friend), we were headed back to Hospet by rickshaw. From there we took a bus back to Hyderabad; all the trains were booked out when we had looked at tickets some weeks ago.

We got back to school on Sunday morning, after resting and unpacking my things, it was time to start preparing for the last internal examination for Indian Society that we had on Monday morning. My notes for that class were completely unreliable, but I found out from some friends which essays and book excerpts we needed to read. I had just enough time to read through them, highlight, and study some before walking into the test and vomiting all the information back up. You feel just as good after these tests as you do after actually vomiting; it’s like your system is purged or something. I guess that implies that the knowledge you used on the test is gone afterwards? Maybe. That kindof defeats the purpose though…whatever, I felt like I had learned something and felt accomplished after the test, so that’s got to mean something.

On Wednesday I had an Indian Philosophy paper due (fortunately we had gotten a week extension on it…). The topic was pretty open-ended; basically you were to just choose something about Indian Philosophy and write about it. That wasn’t to be as easy as just reiterating what we had learned in class, you were supposed to have a critical view on it etc. I was perusing our textbook for quite some time before I could decide on a topic. Basically I looked at how Buddhist thought progressed during its early development. Turned out pretty well actually.

That paper was submitted on Wednesday; on Thursday I had a Medieval Indian History final. Fortunately we had topics of study, so I went through my notes and typed out everything I could find on them. Then, you know the drill. Binge and purge, that’s how it works. This three hour test actually only had 3 essays on it, each one was supposed to be pretty substantial. There was one topic on the Bhakti movement in Western India, another on the movement in Eastern India…I knew a lot about the Bhakti movement in general, so just wrote on that. Hopefully she won’t notice I didn’t mention a specific region?

I was pretty wiped out after that final. Maybe I napped or something, but as soon as it was feasible I needed to start studying for the Indian Society final the next day. I was pretty screwed for that…my notes were really unreliable and there were lots of essays my friends said they had heard we should read to study for it. I basically looked through all of them to decide which ones to read based on length and likely interest. I had hoped to type out highlighted material, but just had barely enough time to highlight and review before the test.

I was much happier the next day about the exam than a lot of my other classmates. I guess sometimes it’s coincidence like whether or not you studied what ends up being on the exam. My last essay was a killer; I even copied down my last paragraph to take away because I was so proud of it. Maybe also part of my happiness could have been attributed to being finally finished with all my academics afterward for the whole semester…

It was during this general time that people in the exchange program started to leave. Kat left first, followed by Thy, Harrison, and Spencer who were heading to Nepal. That weekend more people trickled out to travel or go home. I guess it never quite hit me that things were coming to an end; it felt like these people were leaving for a weekend trip and that I’d see them in a few days or something. It was weird and didn’t seem final really like I would have predicted it to.

On Saturday Kaitlyn and I ventured into the city. At about 9 am we took a train from Lingampally to Nampally (maybe an hour’s journey). Kaitlyn and I talked the whole way; she also felt kindof uncomfortable in the general class car (all the women sit in the ladies’ cars), so I wanted to keep her mind off of it by keeping the conversation going. From Nampally station, we walked through Abids where we stopped at Big Bazaar (kindof like a mall?) to get some food items and movie soundtracks. From there we walked to Koti, a section of the city with low price goods available for sale in small shops or on the street. On the way we stopped at another music store to pick up more cds. I was hoping to get all this music for some time now. All semester I’d keep my ear out for songs that I liked in clubs, rickshaws, and random radios and would find out the movies they came from. Loaded up with all the songs I could ever want and also a map of India that I bought on the side of the street, we made it to Gokul Chaat in Koti. Have I talked about chaat before? It’s like snack food; basically like variations on samosas and other fried goodies covered in tasty sweet, spicy, and yogurt sauces. It was as crowded as it was the last time I was there: completely packed inside and out. Evidently it was the place to be to get chaat.

From there we caught an auto to the old city, the southern section of Hyderabad that’s predominantly more Muslim. We did a ton of walking around there, looking at bangles, perfumes, fruits and juices, cloth, saris, and kurtas. After that we took another auto back to koti where we got a bus to the Hyderabad Central mall. From there we walked to the City Center mall and met up with the lady who has been giving me cooking lessons at her house; I had asked her to hold a copy of the newspaper with my picture in it. She welcomed us with gulab jamun (my favorite Indian sweet), chai, and some much needed water.

After conversations and email exchanges, Kaitlyn and I walked to the bus stop at City Center where we were going to try to catch a bus to Medhiputnam, a busy area of the city and common bus stop into and out of the city. That’s easier said than done, especially at rush hour. The buses were already packed by the time they’d pull up to the stop; a herd of people would then push their way trying to get a foothold of the bus steps. It would then pull away as people would be dangling out the door, clinging onto any edge they could find. Kaitlyn didn’t have so much trouble; the front of the bus (lady’s section) was less pushy and less crowded. That’s a problem when you have a group with both a male and female needing to board. With one bus all the Indians crammed for a foothold, and the abnormally tall American was left shaking is head with a grin watching it all thinking all the while *there is no way I can possibly get on.* Unfortunately at the same time, Kaitlyn gets on through the front entrance. Trying to choose between risking my life or breaking an established social norm, I boarded on the front of the bus so we weren’t separated.

When we reached Medhiputnam, the bus situation was equally as dim. Not being able to catch any of the 216 or 217 buses with route back to the university, we were left wondering if we’d ever get back. I was talking to Kaitlyn when she got a confused look on her face and glanced behind me; I turned around to see what she was looking at and saw a bus with ‘University of Hyderabad’ written along the top. Evidently it was a university bus that runs through the city specifically for students. It was practically empty; a luxury amongst all the crowdedness of Medhiputnam. I couldn’t stop laughing as we got on at how randomly fortuitous the bus’ arrival had been; they mustn’t run very frequently, I mean I haven’t even heard of these university buses.

Let’s see, then on Monday I went back to the old city with Amanda so she could pick up something from the tailor’s, then we met people in Abids at a restaurant with really good food called Bagga’s which some SIP kids had stumbled upon earlier in the semester. Bagga’s was actually like a gentlemen’s club with a ton of smoke and televisions playing cricket matches. No women ever go there, except of course in our abnormal group of white kids.

It sure showed that they weren’t in the habit of serving women. When Amanda ordered her dish, the waiter in broken English turned to Ben to say that they were out of it. Then when Ashley ordered, he turned to Ben and me to ask if we actually wanted the food to be ordered. That was so abnormal it was confusing. He did it totally as if that’s just the way things are done there, in no way was it in a joking manner. We thought it was funny though how narrow-minded they were being. However I would imagine that at least one of the girls got upset that it was as if she had no voice at all.

Wednesday I went with Rakesh into the city to get more chaat; we then met all our friends at Gazebo, a nearby restaurant/bar where we were all going to get together one last time before Rakesh and Knut (from Norway) left the next day. Knut is a really awesome socializer, just always knowing something funny to say and bringing up odd and ironic expressions. For example, evidently it’s a common childhood joke in Norway to ask what happened when two tomatoes crossed the road but one was run over. The other turns around and says “hey, ketchup.” I giggled when I realized that ketchup could also have been “catch up.” What I laughed at harder though was when Knut explained that children in Norway don’t usually know enough English to know what “catch up” actually means, so they only get one side of it. But the joke continues to be funny regardless. I guess it doesn’t take much to make a good joke? Also, evidently a word for “cheers” in German sounds the exact same as a word in Norwegian that you say in response to someone sneezing.

That night the attacks in Mumbai occurred. Knut had heard about it over the phone from his girlfriend, but we all failed to understand the magnitude of the situation until I was woken up the next morning by my program calling to ask where I was and what my travel itinerary was for the during of my stay in the country. I woke Knut up to ask if he was still planning on flying to Mumbai (scheduled for 10 am); our resident advisor also cautioned him, but he didn’t think that the heightened danger was enough to justify a change in travel plans. He was meeting another SIP student there; fortunately we’ve been able to keep in contact with them and they’ve both remained fine.

It’s interesting to watch the difference between CNN and Indian-run news stations. A common perception is that the attacks, although in India, are an attack on America because of the alleged targets. In an interview about that topic with an Indian (government administrator maybe?), he seemed actually angry that such a conceptualization was getting so much attention: To him, although foreigners were definitely harmed, it was an attack on India: the vast majority of fatalities was Indian, prized objects of Mumbai infrastructure were destroyed, etc.

The remaining half dozen-or-so students left in the guest house decided to cook for Thanksgiving. It’s probably not what you’re thinking; such a meal is pretty difficult to imitate here. We had whole wheat noodles (I was grateful, mostly all wheat here is white and refined), gazpacho, bread (leavened!), and green beans. I also went on an epic quest to find pie. There was one European bakery in Banjara Hills (a more upscale part of the city); fortunately they had whole pumpkin pies cooked, and almost ready to go (they had to cool first). I was pumped about it, and I knew everyone else would be really excited too. While they cooled I searched for an iPod charger at the City Center and other nearby malls. It was pretty hard to find and reminded me of a scavenger hunt; each store would tell me the next would have it. After visiting about 5 different stores, I finally found one and high-tailed it back to the bakery and back to campus.

It was remarkably expensive (about $4) to get in and out of Banjara Hills; it would have cost about half for any other Indian, but when any rickshaw driver you ask won’t go beyond a certain price, it’s like a monopoly and you have no other choice. I was too excited about the pies to be preoccupied. Preoccupied. Thanksgiving was enjoyable, we pulled all the tables together to make one big one and lit candles. Although it didn’t really even remind me of Thanksgiving, it was a really fun time.

So then in my spare time the rest of this past week I’ve just been poking around the campus and city, getting things signed, stuff organized etc. Things are still remarkably up in the air; I still need to pack; I don’t quite know where I’m keeping my luggage for the next two weeks; I don’t quite know if I’m traveling the next two weeks; I don’t know how I’m getting my sitar home (it will cost about $450 to ship it…not happening); I don’t think I’ll have time to say goodbye to all the people I want to; I also won’t get to eat all my favorite foods again before I leave; I don’t know where my receipt is for my bike. Yeah, pretty unsettled. But somehow it will all work out.

It’s all part of the experience.

Update

Just want to let everyone know that I'm alive and well; more updates later. Most of the SIP students have left by now for either home or traveling...fortunately no one that I know was in Mumbai at the time of the attacks.

Rajasthan

Last Thursday afternoon I was on my way to the airport to catch a flight to Jaipur, Rajasthan. Most people take a cab to the airport, but there’s also a much less expensive bus service that operates out of certain locations in Hyderabad. The closest one is in Hitech City; after a few shared auto rides I bought a bus ticket and visited the nearby Cybertowers to exchange some dollars into rupees, 47 per dollar that is (the economic troubles in the States have also caused a depreciation in the rupee value, in actuality everyday the USD is worth more and more rupees).

Compared to the rs.+700 taxi ride, the rs.150 bus ride in combination with rs.5 auto rides was a good choice. I got to the airport after dark, about 2 hours after I had left the university, but I still had time because my flight wasn’t due to leave until almost 9. The Rajiv Gandhi International Airport at Hyderabad is spectacular, I don’t know if I’ve written about it before but it’s less than a year old and its sleek look sure does say so. The interior was also decorated with thousands of lights in anticipation for the Diwali festival the next week.

Diwali is a huge five day Hindu holiday that throughout India is celebrated by families gathering together, eating lots of sweets, decorating the house with lots of lights, and setting off tons of firecrackers. So many “crackers” are set off throughout India that the emission of pollution is a growing concern. You’ll read more about the extent of cracker quantity I experienced later on.

The policeman outside of the airport entrance wasn’t initially keen on letting me in; he wanted my identification and my passport. When I only showed him a photocopy, he got really confused and couldn’t understand why I didn’t have the real thing. I explained that I wasn’t leaving the country and that I actually was living in Hyderabad, but I guess he wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t concerned, there’s no reason why I actually needed to have my passport; he was just giving me a hard time.

After entering, I found Indigo Airlines check-in (not difficult, so many people were there to help) to register and collect my ticket. Heading over to security, I stopped by one of the loud-speakers to listen to the music it was playing. Some people gave me a funny look.

I kept my belt and shoes on while walking through the detector at security, but that doesn’t mean security was more relaxed than I’m used to. Everyone was also required to stand on a stool and have a hand-held metal detector run over them while being frisked. Additionally they opened my bag to look around in it a little. No problem here; go ahead and see if you can find something interesting.

Walking away from security my jaw continually dropped for the next hour or so as I browsed around the airport. It wasn’t especially large, just really nice; and it had amazing food options. And the music was great. And the floors were so well cleaned that my feet slipped backward every step I took. No one else in the airport seemed as excited as I was about the availability of my favorite foods, and I ended up cracking up at the idea of how strange I looked with my bright face and wide eyes. Laughing only made it worse, and also funnier. I ended up firstly getting kachori smothered in green mint sauce, red sweet sauce, and white curd. For my second course at a different restaurant I had a special paneer dish wish vegetables and kulcha (a bread). After, I got a dessert that was made of pink rose water, white milk, ice cream, spaghetti, and these slimy seeds that looked identical to fish eggs. The dessert was recommended by an Indian I met who lives in England. We talked some until it was time for me to fill my water bottle up and board the plane.

The plane looked brand new, completely white with blue (indigo) seats. Leg room was definitely limited; that’s probably because it’s an entirely Indian operated airline with passengers that average a height significantly less than my own. The cabin was completely open, usually there’s some divider for bathrooms or class barriers or something but everyone on the full plane had a good clear view of the sole lurpy foreigner with curly blonde hair in row 6 who doesn’t seem to fit comfortably. And who’s also entirely too excited to be on an airplane. The sides of the cabin emitted clouds of hydrating mist before takeoff (which I alarmingly thought was smoke initially), and the stewardesses had a touch-screen monitor in the front that they used to dim the cabin lights.

I’ve wanted to see Rajasthan for quite some time. Although I hadn’t even heard of Rajasthan before coming to India, accounts from people here about the desert climate, rare souvenirs, and delicious food have continually allured me. Because it didn’t seem as if I’d have time after the semester ended to see it, this was probably my one chance, and certainly my last break in schoolwork and other obligations until crunch time at the end of the semester. I’ve always wanted to go to Egypt (it was actually my first thought initially in deciding where to abroad), and it was my hope that I was going to get the chance to experience a similar arid climate.

The flight took exactly 1 hour and 50 minutes like they promised, a good deal compared to the +36 hour train ride alternative. I arrived in Jaipur at about 11 pm and easily met my friends who were anxiously waiting for me. I first met Ashu and Ankit during my trip to Goa; we remained in contact, and because we had had such a good time in Goa, I figured it’d be great to visit them and have them show me around the city. They were SO excited to see me, as if we had been best friends for some time before. Ashu’s 26 year old brother, Pradeep, is a driver by profession, so having a car to get to and from the airport was no problem. And also all throughout the city. That whole night they took me to all sorts of places in Jaipur including monuments, lakes, cinemas, and malls. None of it was open of course, but it was still fun to see. We also met up with 2 more of their friends and ate at this open restaurant with ceiling fans low enough to give me a haircut. By the time we headed back to Ashu’s house, it was 4 in the morning.

I was hoping not to disturb his family, but upon my arrival, Ashu’s mother and father were up and excited to meet me, as well as serve me chai. Ashu’s father is in the military and moves around quite a bit; the family has been in Jaipur for 3 years but is initially from Uttar Pradesh. Ashu’s mother doesn’t speak very much English but loves to laugh and also loves to see me try to speak Hindi. She’s one of those Indians who is 100% excited just that you can respond by saying “tora tora” (a little) when she asks if I know Hindi. I can imagine her excitement, not many people from the States can speak another language, let alone a non-romantic one of a country that has so much English influence anyway.

After some conversation, I was completely wiped and fell asleep in Ashu’s bed; he insisted on taking a cot on the floor. The next morning I heard Ashu’s father come into the room and do a short puja at the shrine in Ashu’s room; when I woke up soon after the shine’s oil lamp was still lit. For breakfast Ashu and I had aloo paratha and curd. Aloo paratha is layered flatbread that is stuffed with potatoes and spices, one of my favorites. After breakfast I was introduced to Ashu’s sister, Kushboo, who is 18 and in her first year at college, hoping to go to dental school after. I also showed Ashu’s mom my Hindi notes that I had brought to study; she loved reading through all of it and correcting the mistakes she could find.

I later was introduced to Ashu’s neighbors who also didn’t know much English but still thoroughly enjoyed my company. They of course also made me chai. The chai I had throughout Rajasthan had ginger added to it; that made it really tasty, and I had no problem drinking any amount of chai that any of my new acquaintances would offer.

At about noon, Ashu, Ankit, and I met up with another friend, Vivek, and we all went to a museum that displayed Jaipur’s history. My favorite part was the section with musical instruments, most having variations on the pervasive stringed instrument with an array of tinier resonating strings underneath. One was as big as a table.

After that we headed to the Amer Fort, one of my favorite places that we visited on the whole trip. On the way there we rode through the “pink city,” Jaipur’s old city named after the old pink/terra cotta colored buildings that line the busy streets. It’s such an experience; there’s people every which way, towering old buildings crammed together that look like they’re ready to crumble, goats, cows chewing on cardboard and other garbage, knotted nets of electrical wire, colorful fruits and scarves, and dust all around.

The Amer Fort is outside of the city and is spread across the dry mountains. It covers a huge area which encompasses another part of Jaipur inside, and its walls undulated over the mountains as far as you could see, just like the Great Wall in China. Way at the top of the fort there were amazing views that only a picture could really describe. Also the worlds largest cannon was there, said to be able to shoot a cannon 40 km; the first time it was used the tremendous recoil killed the individual operating it. We visited the armory as well as the main royal area where the king and multiple queens would reside and spend their time. The whole place was terra cotta-colored and the ground was dusty. I could definitely tell how valuable water is in the area by seeing how dry everything was. That made the green garden (the queens’ courtyard) at the top that much more shocking.

We took our motorcycles (don’t worry, I’m just a passenger) to another great vantage point of the fort which looked out over Jaipur city, and we stayed until dark, talking about all sorts of things including what we should do the next few days. On our trip back home, we stopped at a famous sweet shop in the old city to get kachori and lassi (thick yogurt drink); Jaipur’s famous for lassi.

Back at home we had a delicious dinner before planning what to do the next day. Ashu had been to practically no other places in Rajasthan and was eager to see a lot; Lonely Planet was of course a godsend with all of its maps and information. It took a while to figure out, but we ended up planning to go overnight (with Pradeep as a driver) to Mount Abu in the south, spend the day there, travel overnight to Jaisalmer, spend some time there, and then head back to Jaipur after, possibly stopping at Jodhpur on the way. After packing up all our things, we left for our journey at about midnight.

Although car seats aren’t necessarily as comfortable as the beds on a train, a car would afford more flexibility of where and when to go, additionally it turned out to be a big asset at Mount Abu where we would have probably had to hire a driver anyway to get around. Mount Abu is the highest peak in Rajasthan, and it took quite some time to drive up through windy roads that climbed upward practically forever. We finally got to the peak sometime early in the afternoon. There is a famous temple there that we visited, as well as the look-out over the mountaintops. There was a faint haze that prevented a clear view to the mountain range base, but the sight was still nice.

We headed back to the town of Mount Abu where we got to see more views at lookouts and also Ankit, Ashu, and I (while Pradeep slept in the car) went to “sunset rock” which offered a great view of the sunset. So many people were there, evidently it was the place to be. We walked back through the town, looked at all the shops, bought some snacks, and started to walk around the lake back to meet Pradeep. On our way we met a tour guide who talked with us a while and also warned us of bears that lived in the area; treading carefully down the dark road heading toward the first lookout we visited, a car suddenly came speeding around the bend. Ankit and Ashu recognized it as Pradeep; as he pulled up beside us, some conversation went on in Hindi and Ankit/Ashu urged me to hop in quickly. After more rapid Hindi conversation in the car, and a very anxious Pradeep, Ashu filled me in that evidently Pradeep was awoken from his slumber by the pounding of a bear on the car door. The bear’s face was right there on the window next to him; he quickly started the car and drove away but the bear was in pursuit and was still following him when he met us. He was pretty shaken up about it and was ready to leave.

We decided to stop and get food outside Mount Abu because it would be less expensive. I was feeling sort of ill and tired at that time, so I wasn’t as excited to eat as I usually was. It was fun though to see the cook making the food right in front of us, and we ate on weaved cots that are common in Rajasthan. Indian food really is in so many ways a conglomeration; the cook had an assortment of spices and vegetables in front of him and after firing up the gas heater, would throw into the pan some oil, garlic, spices (a little of this, a pinch of that), water, and vegetables and bam--you’d have a veg curry gravy ready to eat with roti.

We had to also stop and get our spare tire fixed because we had a puncture on our way up Mount Abu. This had also happened with Ashu’s motorcycle in Jaipur the day before (caused by a pin needle); basically you have to take the circular rubber tube (that holds the air) out of the tire, find the puncture, and glue on a sticky patch before putting it back in the tire and reinflating it. The car tire involved more time with an electrical heater and a press, and we were on our way to Jaisalmer at about 11 pm.

I was out like a light under my bed sheet and with my inflatable pillow and slept until we stopped to see the clear sunrise over the desert. To readjust I sat on the floor and stretched my legs out, leaning my upper body sideways over the seat. We had finally made it to Rajasthan’s famous desert, the Thar Desert, which India shares with Pakistan. We actually also saw an military outpost with artillery stationed, not poised and ready for action but just being stored in case they were needed later on. We also passed by the first place where India had tested an atomic bomb, a suitable location due to the open space and low nearby population.

So we made it to Jaisalmer (west end of Rajasthan) that morning and first decided on finding out what options we had to go on a camel safari. I had read about them in the Lonely Planet and thought it’d be the coolest thing. That’s a popular thing to do in Jaisalmer and there are many people to go through. Options included a late afternoon safari and dinner followed by a music and dance performance to a half month trek to the other side of the state. We thought our best option was an operator that would take us to a less-touristy part of the desert that late afternoon, offer dinner and beds on the dunes that evening, and breakfast and lunch the next day along with more safari over the dunes.

The operator was really up-front with us; he told us exactly what we were getting and promised to deliver it, but nothing more. He was really practical about the whole situation and didn’t try to enamor us with bonuses and talk about how good of a deal it was. That to me was more trustworthy than some of the other operators who would go on with promises that although can be enticing, are more likely to be lies. I could tell he was pretty seasoned too; he had dealt with many customers, and he upfront told us that he didn’t like that there were Indians in my group. I’ve had this happen before, encounter an Indian who only prefers to deal with foreigners I mean. I guess he was fed up with how Indians tend to demand so much or always seem to be dissatisfied with the service. Maybe it’s that a foreigner is going to be ‘wowed’ more easily whereas a native Indian knows more what to expect. Whatever the reason, he was only offering us his program because I was a foreigner; if I were an Indian, he wouldn’t have even considered us. Ankit was disappointed that I wasn’t going to see a ‘traditional’ Rajasthani dance or music, but I tried to explain to him that I didn’t need to. It seemed too touristy and additionally such things would be being performed outside of their original element. Such music and dance wasn’t meant to be performed in that way and in such a sense isn’t an authentic interpretation.

Ankit was one of those Indians who was so intent on me having the best time and enjoying everything to the fullest. It’s a nice idea but was really wearing on me after a while. Try to imagine constantly being asked if you’re having a good time or not, being asked whether it was the right decision to do what we were doing, or watching helplessly as he would complain in Hindi to someone that the food or service wasn’t good enough (because he was trying to give me the best experience). Yeah. Really annoying. He didn’t speak much English either, and so it was difficult for me to explain to him that I liked to take everything for what it was and not try to judge it. Anything, good or bad, can be enjoyed and at the least forms part of a unique experience that in itself is very valuable. All this also means that I’m constantly watching how I’m behaving. If Ankit’s happiness is based on whether or not I’m “enjoying” myself, then I feel the need to at the least put on a happy face. You can’t experience something fully if you’re concerned about that. Because I’m already sensitive to the way people perceive me, it was a problem, but I tried my best to focus on what we were visiting and not whether or not I was looking excited the whole time. It was also tiring having to repeat myself so many times. It’s not his fault that he can’t understand me well, but even still there’s nothing more frustrating than when you have to repeat yourself over and over, already tired and with patience that has worn thin. I also couldn’t understand him very well at all, and because Pradeep only spoke Hindi, most of the conversation that went down was in Hindi. With me idle on the side. That’s fine, I mean when that’s your medium, things are communicated the best and most efficiently that way, but it also meant that I spent a lot of time not knowing what was going on. It was then up to Ashu to translate.

Ashu was a trooper the whole time, I could imagine how much mental pressure that would put on him, constantly juggling so many things at once, but he remained level-headed and positive all the while; he fortunately was a really good communicator in each language. He was also suffering a great deal with a problem that he’s been facing. He had lent one of his friends (Virad, living in Delhi, who I also met in Goa) rs.10,000 a while ago to help him pay for his friend’s mom’s medical condition or something. Ashu was positive that Virad would repay him within a month, but that was two and a half months ago and, as you guessed, Virad didn’t hold up his end. The problem is that Ashu initially asked his other friend in Jaipur for the money to give to Virad in the first place. His other friend was getting angrier and angrier that Ashu wasn’t paying him back, but he had no means to. He didn’t want to go to his family to get it because he was afraid they would get really upset, but his other friend was threatening to tell his parents anyway. Ashu was on the phone a great deal during our trip trying to pacify things, check his bank account to see if Virad had deposited the money, and trying to call Virad to urge him to pay up, although Virad less-than-frequently answered. Virad is also going through a death in the family and other issues…that’s actually the reason why he additionally didn’t come with us on this trip. I could tell it was really taxing on him trying to juggle all these things (we all hadn’t been sleeping enough either) as well as enjoy his vacation and limited time with the exciting friend who had flown all the way from Hyderabad to visit. It certainly took a great deal of endurance on his part, and I saluted his levelheadedness throughout the whole thing.

After booking the safari (rs.700 each, something like $15) we spent the afternoon visiting the famous Jaisalmer fort. Let me take a second to tell you how Jaisalmer is my favorite city I’ve ever seen. First of all, it’s entirely made of sandstone, all the buildings, homes, even the streets: they’re not paved but made of sandstone brick. All of it blends in with the surrounding desert; it really is like a sandcastle town. If Jaipur is the “pink city,” this was certainly the “golden city.” Additionally there were vibrant colors everywhere; there were SO many colorful things on display, including scarves, saris, blankets, and wall hangings. I’ve seen a lot of color, and this takes the cake. The fort rises up in the center of the city; from anywhere you can usually get a glimpse of at least one of its hundred bastions. Four thousand people actually live inside the fort; it’s been entirely converted into a residential area, and people actually live in the towers (now homes) that used to defend the fort. It unfortunately wasn’t made for the sewage systems (running in gutters on street-sides) that had to be installed, and as a result is slowly falling apart. Some of the bastions have collapsed and the fort’s on an “endangered monument” list. The damage gave it an even more weathered look, as if it were one of my actual sandcastles at the beach that is slowly being damaged by winds as it continues to bake and dry in the harsh sun. So awesome. The streets were narrow and winded around every which way; there was no room for large trucks and buses and additional development.

Inside the fort we hired a guide who showed us around the Jain temple inside (entirely sandstone with ridiculously intricate carvings, sandstone is soft enough for such detail) as well as a haveli. There are several famous havelis in Jaisalmer; they were merchants’ homes during the time of the silk trade prosperity. These merchants would accumulate enormous wealth in their trades and could build enormous, intricately-carved homes with lavish artwork etc. inside as a result.

For lunch we ate at a restaurant famous for its thalis, or all-you-can eat platters of various food assortments, usually including dal, rice or roti, curd, pickle, and different curries. I had a Rajasthani-themed thali; it additionally consisted of a shredded flavorful vegetable dish and also this gravy with buttery balls of a kind of wheat or cornmeal. Whatever it was, it was delicious, and I had no problem taking full advantage of the ‘all-you-can-eat’ advantage to the thali.

At 2:30 we met up with our camel safari operator who we followed in his jeep (carrying other foreigners) to a site with ancient sandstone graves and temples outside the city. We then continued for about 40 km into the desert, and after arriving at the destination, meeting our guide, and waiting for our camels, we were off past a small village and into the desert.

Camels are funny animals. First of all, they’re actually really large; I guess I never really quite knew until I had the chance to stand next to one of the beasts. They can smell pretty bad sometimes, and they make this grunt that’s identical to how you would imagine a dinosaur to sound. I’ll imitate it for you later. They have this smug look on their face; their mouths constantly have this pursed smile, and with their eyes half-mast, it looks like they’re wearing this pompous “I’m better than you” look. They’re pretty inert, it takes some shouting and tugging to get them to stand up or sit down. It looks like either standing or sitting though takes a substantial amount of work; they have a lot of weight to hall! Getting on the back isn’t hard (they had a cushioned saddle on each one), but as it would stand, I learned to brace myself. First it straightens up its back legs and unless you lean completely back, you’ll be kicked foreword and off the camel’s back. Same thing when he sits down. They move pretty slowly, and I imagine it would take ages to travel all the way to China or elsewhere on them like in the Silk Road days. A rope is tied to iron nostril piercings they have up their noses for steering or coercion to move. Mine didn’t like to be pet, he’d give me a nasty look and turn his head when I reached toward him. I guess I wouldn’t necessarily like to own one, but it was sure a blast to ride one for a few days.

As we were venturing through the dunes on our safaris, with the sun beating down, the faint jingle of the bells around the camels’ necks, and dry waving dunes far into the distance, I also was listening to music on my ipod that actually specifically reminds me of the desert, including the soundtracks from “The Mummy” and “The Mummy Returns.” We made a stop to run around on the dunes and watch the sunset. The sand of the dunes is so fine that it’s like dust, and when you run over them your feet sink into them up to above your ankles; it practically flows like water. There were also these big black beetles crawling around that reminded me of scarabs.

After seeing the sunset, we went to the site where we were to sleep for the night. In a valley of the dunes, there was a spot of four cots set up for us; we could see only a few other sites where others were staying and in the distance a small village of a few huts where our guide lived. The food our guide made us was tasty and just what the operator promised (in addition to bottled water). The cots were extremely comfortable; thick blankets and pillows were also provided (a good thing too because it gets crisp in the night). As we sunk into our beds, a full view of the black sky lit with stars was on display above; such an awesome sight to fall asleep to.

I awoke the next morning to the tinkle of camel bells, and by the time I arose our guide had prepared chai, toast, hard-boiled eggs, and bananas for us. I went to go meet our guide’s family at the nearby village. Their huts are made of mixtures of dried camel dung and sand with a roof weaved of long leaves.

That day we set out again for more dunes, stopping at the best places along the way to enjoy them. By around noon, we stopped one last time to prepare lunch. I helped gather firewood and Ankit helped cook; there were plenty of tumbleweeds around which ignited really easily to start our fire. Our dish was prepared by mixing various spices in a bath of water and oil and stirring in chopped potato and cauliflower. Also our dishes were cleaned using sand. We also ‘washed’ our hands with sand; it’s funny how the prevalence of sand and the scarcity of water prompted sand to become a new medium for all kinds of things.

Back in Jaisalmer we spent the afternoon roaming around the city some more, and I stopped into a few shops to buy some things. The venders I met were hard bargainers and would shoo you out if you were asking for prices that were too low. We checked to see that evening if my favorite thali place was open, but they weren’t serving dinner until 7, so we decided to head back to Jaipur and eat in Jodhpur along the way.

Jodhpur has some famous sites to see as well, but unfortunately we had no time to stay and only got to see its large fort from a distance in the night. We stopped at a roadside restaurant again, this one was even less accustomed to foreigners and the few Indians that were there spent their time staring at me blankly. An SIP student in Hyderabad has a friend who is volunteering near Jodhpur; she’s the only foreigner in her group and has been really uncomfortable in public. People will congregate around her to stare, and she literally has to push her way past them to get anywhere. Once she went to a musical performance and the whole show stopped because she entered and everyone was distracted. At first being stared at is funny, but at that level it’s extremely rude; the people who stare mustn’t be able to understand how inconsiderate it is, and I can easily imagine her intense discomfort.

After dinner, we all piled into the car and continued to head home, hoping to reach Jaipur in the morning. I was awoken from my sleep by distant agitated discussion. The car was also stopped; although we stopped sometimes to go to the bathroom or for my friends to smoke, there was never commotion to go along with it. Through my half-opened eyes I saw Ankit and Pradeep outside by the driver side door talking with a policeman. The tense discussion lasted a few more seconds and then was temporarily halted as the policeman slapped Pradeep across the face. Hard. I nudged Ashu awake to try to figure out what was going on. He slapped Pradeep again after the argument picked back up. As I grew more and more worried and confused, the officer took both Ankit and Pradeep by the arm and marched away into the blackness ahead.

Ashu overheard that evidently they had attempted to pick up some fruit that had fallen off of a truck and that’s why they were being apprehended. My jaw continued to remain dropped as the time passed, and I wondered if it was legitimate to ask myself in the back of my head if I’d ever see my friends again. Who knows, I mean I’ve never been in a situation like that and it just felt like I was in some terrifying movie or something. I’m glad Ashu was there, because he didn’t seem to get too worked up about it and assured me they’d be back soon; I remained calm. The three of them came back about 15 minutes later, seemingly fine. The officer wanted to know who Ashu and I were; as I stepped out of the car I could see the fruit truck behind us, some of its cargo scattered about the road. I showed him my university student ID card and gave him a strong stink eye. He didn’t scare me and I was beyond pissed that he was treating us this way. After he verified our identities we climbed back in the car and after they talked in Hindi, I asked to know what actually happened. Pradeep and Ankit had indeed stopped to take some fruit that had fallen from the truck, it was dirty anyway and unlikely to be salvaged from the driver. The officer had been so angry because he suspected us of attempting to rob the truck and take crates of its cargo. Only after he had assuredly identified us as students did he believe our claims of defense and let us go, surprisingly even without a bribe. Pradeep and Ankit seemed unaffected by it; I sat in the back angry at the blatant injustice that the officer had exercised, every time I cross paths with the police (in Goa, at the airport, etc.) I get more and more frustrated with them. The way this situation played out certainly was a testament to a ‘guilty until proven innocent’ mentality.

It was nice to be back in Jaipur; pulling up to Ashu’s house the next morning felt in a way like I was returning home. I was excited to get out of the car and have a place to stretch out and relax. Ashu’s mom was equally as excited to greet us and whipped up some more aloo paratha and curd. As I bathed and changed clothes, the family caught each other up on their travels in Hindi, and as I returned back to the living room, Ashu’s mom asked me what time it was in Hindi. She loved asking me what time it was and hearing me respond in Hindi; she must have done that dozens of times during my stay there.

There were more places in Jaipur to see, including an old observatory and the city palace. Ankit, Ashu and I headed back into the city and after parking and enjoying some popularly vended drinks made of lime, ice, salt, and lemon soda (a fascinating cross between sweet, salty, and tart tastes) we started to head toward the observatory, Jantar Mantar.

Jantar Mantar houses many old devices that used to be utilized to tell time and measure the position of various heavenly bodies. Ashu and I were having a discussion side by side as we were nearing the gate when he was suddenly interrupted and yanked backward. Startled, I turned to see what had happened, and you could have guessed that there was a scowling police officer facing us. He suspected my friends to be illegal guides; usually social groups consist of either Indians or foreigners, and a mix means that the foreigner could be getting a ‘tour’ without paying government regulated tour guide fees. This has happened before (Ankit and Ashu have been questioned whether or not they were licensed guides when seen with me), but usually it’s not very involved; this officer unfortunately wasn’t budging even after we showed him our student identity cards and I solidly claimed that were all just friends. At first he was going to let us go in, but under the condition that we wouldn’t talk to each other inside. Realizing that he had no way of knowing that would be upheld, he denied either me or both Ankit and Ashu entrance. They insisted that I go see the observatory, and they were going to wait for me outside. There was nothing left to do but shoot the officer another one of my pissed looks of frustration and leave the situation behind as it was. Whatever, I guess he’s just doing his job.

The observatory had many sun dials in it as well as other curious structures. The largest dial was stories high; a dial is basically a large triangle with its hypotenuse lined up with the planet’s axis and a surrounding half circle that’s parallel to the equator. The sun casts a shadow over the hypotenuse onto the circle which tells the time; the largest one was so accurate and sensitive that it could tell the time down to the half second. I was going to hire a guide through Jantar Mantar, but it probably would have taken too long and I didn’t want to keep Ankit and Ashu waiting. I also stopped by the city palace on the way back; the foreigner fee was rs.300 and I wasn’t excited about that. I had seen enough palaces anyway, so I continued on to meet up with them and figure out where we were eating lunch.

We decided to head back to Ashu’s home, it was their neighbor’s son’s birthday and they wanted to have me as a guest. It was a lot of fun; lots of laughing and really good food, including a delicious peanut chutney. After, we needed to decide what was going to happen that evening. It was the first day of the Diwali festival, and initially we had planned on me heading to Ankit’s house about 60 km away, but we didn’t know if it’d be easy to transport me back and forth in time for my flight that was leaving the next morning at 6. Also Ashu’s dad claimed traveling like that on Diwali unsafe, evidently sometimes crackers can be jokingly but dangerously thrown motorcycles driving by. Although I would have like to meet Ankit’s family/friends and see his home, I really liked Ashu’s family who wanted me to stay and celebrate as well. Honestly also Ankit was grinding my gears with regard to what I mentioned earlier. Plus Jaipur city was supposed to be really beautiful that night, completely decorated with all the lights. Ankit decided that it’d be best if we all stayed there; he also opted to remain with us and travel home for the holiday the day after. A perfect compromise.

As soon as we were decided, Ashu’s Dad rushed me in the car and we went into town to buy sweets, vegetables for dinner, and more sweets. Diwali sure is a festival of sweets; we got boxes and boxes of gulab jamun, all kinds of barfis, chum chum, and various other colorful sugary edibles that we either would give away to friends or store at home for personal consumption. Ankit also went to purchase some fireworks as I helped Ashu’s mom decorate the house. Pradeep had already put up strings of colorful lights all around, and my job was to place the lamps in intervals on all the walls, steps, and ledges of the house. Diwali lamps are small terra cotta clay cups that are filled with oil and have a string wick that burns like a candle. Dozens and dozens were prepared, and you practically didn’t need electric lights to see around the house with them all lit.

Afterwards, Ashu wanted to go to the nearby barber to get shaved before the festivities began. I really needed to be shaved as well, and after seeing myself in the barber’s mirror I realized that my wild hair was way too out of control. The last time I cut it was before coming to India, so I guess it was high time for another one, and what better time than now? The barber was pretty excited about my hair and said he was giving me his specialty cut; it didn’t turn out half bad. Also the shaving was fun; I’ve never been shaved with a single knife-like blade before. He also unexpectedly sprayed my face with water and slapped on some aftershave. The whole deal was about $3.

Back at home, Ankit had returned with crackers, and we all did a puja at the shrine in Ashu’s room (consisting of lots of Rajasthani chanting/singing etc.). After having appetizers of soda, papad (large chips), and sweets, we all headed up to the rooftop to light our fireworks.

By that time it was dark and the city was in its full-fledged celebration mode. You could see rooftops extending for quite some distance, and in any direction you’d look there would be flashings or sparks or rockets being set off into the air. The city sounded like it was legitimately under attack, the crackers sounded like machine guns and the bombs sounded like…well, bombs exploding. Such commotion lasted well into the night and only dwindled by midnight. We lit many-cone shaped fireworks that would spray showers of sparks into the air and sometimes would explode at the end. We also had bombs specifically meant to explode in a deafening, blinding flash that left your ears ringing. Ankit and Ashu lit them like crazy, I could never quite tell which kind was being lit or where it was located precisely; that made most of the explosions really shocking.

Ashu’s mom and sister stayed standing on the side. I mostly opted for that too; the area we were lighting those crackers was like a minefield. Plus sometimes you’d light something and even though the sparking wick would burn all the way down, it wouldn’t set off and you were left wondering what to do. I uncomfortably watched as each time that happened Ankit or Ashu would try to relight it. Once a bomb went off while Ashu was leaning down to light it; I started freaking out, but Ashu stood up with a bright smile on his face chuckling and tapping his ears, temporarily deafened by the blast. Whatever floats your boat.

On the street below everyone was setting crackers off too; mostly kids were lighting them with their parents either watching from the house or absent altogether. Once, Ankit shot off a rocket that we poised in a plastic bottle. It was supposed to explode in the air, but we watched its flame rise and then fall straight back down, landing smack on our neighbor’s rooftop. Half a second later there was a huge burst of fiery red sparks that erupted in a sphere rising up from the rooftop, all around the nearby wooden furniture and clothes hanging to dry. Our family seemed alarmed for a brief while, but quickly decided it was no big deal, and we continued to set off more.

After we had had our fill of setting them off for the time being, Ashu, Ankit, and I walked around the town to various friends’ houses to visit briefly. On the streets there was a smoky haze that hovered from the aftermath of the first few hours of celebration. You’d be walking along and suddenly there’d be a huge blast and flash a few meters away from an unknown cracker that had been lit. Immediately after there’d be a sparking rocket shoot past you horizontally and crash into the side of the house wall at the other end of the street. It was all so exciting and unpredictable, you never quite knew when or from where you’d be stunned with a flash and blast next. Kids were running around screaming and giggling in the streets which were lit like day with the thousands of lamps and colorful lights that decorated the nearby houses.

Back at the house we had dinner and discussions about how cool Diwali was, followed by more talking well into the night until Ashu’s mom and Kushboo were the only ones awake. I slowly faded until it was physically impossible for me continue conversation, and Ashu’s mom insisted that I rest. I slept only an hour or two before I was up to shower and get ready to leave for my flight that left at 6 am. Ashu’s sleepy eyed family awoke themselves to bid me a warm farewell and insisted that I come back to visit again.

On the way to the airport Ashu mentioned his money issue again. I had already decided that I wouldn’t be lending him his deficit. He had also told me that Virad had borrowed money from him before and not returned it. Ironically Ashu didn’t seem upset at Virad about the whole situation, he was most concerned about getting the money back to his other friend and repaying his debt. I’d trust Ashu, but I didn’t trust Virad’s word and if that’s where Ashu was waiting for repayment, I wasn’t about to become another spoke in the wheel. If I lent Ashu money, he would continue to be the middle man and he’d just be transferring his debt to someone else. Plus, how he would return money to me didn’t feel like an easy process; it was time for Ashu to confront his parents with the issue, despite their impending disappointment, and ask them for help. Indians I’ve noticed are extremely invested in their parent’s best interest; none of my friends at Hyderabad will ask for money from their parents either, even if they have barely enough to buy food.

Explaining my thoughts to Ashu and wishing him luck, I said my goodbyes to Ankit and Ashu and headed into the airport to board the plane. Security again went through all my stuff. They found a small metal musical instrument I had bought from Jaisalmer and threw it away; I should have realized they wouldn’t allow that, no big deal though. I don’t even remember the flight; I was out like a light until we reached Hyderabad at about 8 in the morning.

I only had rs.150 left in my wallet and unfortunately the bus ticket back was also exactly rs.150; that would leave no money to take me back to the university by rickshaw. Fortunately I also saw that for rs.120 I could take another bus to Medhiputnam from where (given I could find the bus stop) I could take a city bus back to the university for only rs.6. There’s no way to get to or from the airport for cheaper than that! Fortunately it worked out fine and I was back in my room at the university at 10:30 am, without any rats to greet me either to boot. With no droppings on my bed, it sure was an exciting opportunity to be able to fall right asleep, scenes from last night’s celebration still flashing in my mind.