I was looking forward to Indian Society (anthropology class) today, kindof because of the material, but mostly because I was excited to see everone in it. Although I'm having a difficult time memorizing everyone's name (Golind, Srivinar, Womshe, Nagaraju, Sneha, Meeshra), we've already all become good friends; after class we went to the canteen to have chai. Sneha called it a "party." They also call the weekends "holidays." After discussing where we've all come from and laughing at Amanda and I trying to speak Hindi (they love it when we try), we decided to meet at the library later to look for our books.

Although we do have a list of books to read, finding them is an entirely different and difficult matter. (Getting a book list may or may not be easy...in one class the professor gave a student in the front one syllibus; we were to photocopy it if we wanted it). You can get call numbers off of the library website by inputing book information, but the book list information is not always complete and sometimes the first and last names are reversed. Even if you have the right information, the library may or may not have it. If you're able to get a call number and find the section of library where it is supposed to be located, the book may or may not be there. If it is, you may or may not want to photocopy it. I don't really know yet if you can check books out...even if you can there are other students who need to use it. I'm really going to have to get over my fear of libraries if I'm to work this system.

So I went to the library but could only find Meshra. I asked him if he knew where any of the others were. *Emmits* "What?" *Emmits! You remember from class?* "...um...Em-iss?" *Yes, Emmits, girl, you know* "...what?" *EMMITS* "...Amanda?" *YES, Emmits!* "Oh, yeah, Amanda" *Emmits* "Am-an-da" *Yes, Emmits, you know?* "Do I know where she is?" *Yes, you know?* "No, do you know where anyone else is?" *No* "Oh, ok." I guess I'm not the only one having trouble pronouncing people's names.

We then started talking about Hindi. I had asked him how to say a word with a "d" sound like 'Duh.' "So how do you say this?" *It begins with duh, you know, like in the word 'duh'* He wrote the word 'the' on a piece of paper. *Duh* "The?" *Yes, duh* "Duh?" *Yes, like in 'dair', how you say 'dair'* He wrote the word 'there' on the paper. *dair* "there?" *Yes, dair* "dair." *yes, good.*

As a side topic, there have been recent terrorist attacks on two Indian cities. On Saturday, Bangalore suffered several deaths; the next day in Ahmenabad, 49 people were killed in a series of 13 bomb blasts in public areas. I'm not quite sure what the whole story is, although I heard from a student that he thought conservative party members were responsible because they wanted to destablilize the current situation to gain popularity in upcoming elections. Whether or not this is true, all accounts I've heard have claimed that Hindus are the logical targets of these attacks. Although Westerners are not the aim here, that doesn't mean that anyone isn't at risk especially in public areas, so CIEE cancelled the excursions we had planned for the weekend and advised that we stay on campus.

Oh lunch was so good today. There was this delicious eggplant dish that was perfect for scooping with naan. Also there was guava fruit and daal, and to top it all off, those fried balls of dough soaked in honey. Eventually I'll stop eating at the guest house and start eating on campus like the rest of the students at the university, but it's times like these that I'm glad I'm still eating with the other SIP students :)

Today was a dream. All the CIEE students were taken to an awesome store in Banjara Hills, Hyderabad that sold every kind of house item, fabric, and clothing you could think of. It was all brightly colored with natural dyes and made by thousands of artisans around India, they're all about the organics there, and, as you probably know, so am I. Everything was so vibrant and colorful! Incense lingered all around too. They had an extensive collection of the traditional Indian wares; for women, salwar kameezs and sarees; for men, kurtas of all lengths and sizes. We were given 3000 rs. and set loose on an Indian shopping spree, and yes, I could barely contain myself. I tried on so much clothing! They had lots of designs and things, but I opted for the deep vibrant solid colors with 2 short kurtas, 2 short sleeved shirts, 1 long sleeved shirt, and linen trousers. I may muster enough courage to get one of the super long and formal kurtas, but maybe later :)

We had all intended to go see a Bollywood movie as well this afternoon, but the event was cancelled due to a recent event in Bangalore. I don't really know the story but there was a bombing by an unidentified source that put Hyderabad on "red alert" which means that people are strongly advised to stay out of crowded places for the next few days. No worries, there's plenty of schoolwork to get caught up on...

After much angst, I think I've finally decided on these classes: Indian Philosophy, Indian Society (anthropology), Medieval Indian History, and Hindi. It all seems like a good combination, and I've already made friends in a lot of those classes; the history and philosophy will also count for my history and religion requirements for Muhlenberg. I've never been quite so nervous for a semester before though...some of these classes have reading lists of 16-22 books...not a pretty sight. There so many things I want to get involved in too, ah! so much to do! 5 months is not enough. I actually probably won't be travelling that much during the semester because of the work and extracurricular activities and plus I'm already making many friends whom I'd like to get to know more. Seriously 5 months is not enough to experience India, although it's certainly better than a week or two vacation...such a short experience would probably be a disappointment, I'd leave knowing that there was so much more I'd want to do and be involved in. No wonder people don't think of India as a vacation spot, you need a much much longer time to experience it.

I don't like to talk behind people's backs, but CIEE is the best program that SIP students can be involved in. Other programs working through SIP didn't have the glorious orientation that we did nor the many helpful staff members that we do nor the excursions we've done and are planning nor this shopping spree etc. etc. The others had to deal with their class uncertainties and scheduling issues along with culture shock while completely jet lagged, having just arrived last Sunday or Monday. All the CIEE students have such close relationships already and have gotten a chance to settle themselves in India before starting the semester. The SIP program is also amazing, having classes designed specifically to bring foreign students up to speed on India and the languages spoken here, although it is required that we take at least 2 university classes to intermingle with the other students.

I'm also very pleased with my hostel. I get the chance to meet so many other people there as well as retain the friendships I've formed with the SIP students. I'm located in a wing of the hostel that I like to call the "double international section." It seems like SIP students who chose not to live in the guest house are put here. There are western style toilets and singles in the wing, but Indian style toilets and triples elsewhere for "regular" (my language again) international students who may or may not be used to the luxury of the western style toilet. I almost like using the non-western toilets better though, you have to sit on the grime with the western ones.

I met several students (Vippin, Ankush, Minakshe, and Anew) the other day in Gops, the nearby student center, and we got into a discussion about the bathrooms etc. I've always wanted to talk to students to learn how exactly they go about such business, although what an incredibly awkward topic of conversation! It's like the westerners here are children, they have to be driven around because the don't know where anything is, they have to be taught how to wash their clothes, they have to be taught how to eat their food, they have to be taught how to go to the bathroom. We're seriously infants. That's what happens though when everything is so different from what you're used to. Anyway, what was so amazing were their comments about the western method of using the bathroom. Although they like the western toilets better than squatting, they find using toilet paper to clean yourself disgusting and would much rather use water to clean themselves. We have the exact same perspective but in the oppsite direction...how disgusted would you be to clean yourself with water and your left hand!? To the students here who are used to that though, this is much more sanitary and acceptable than using toilet paper (yeah, ew, who does that?).

I also hand washed my clothes yesterday. You really have to work for each article you're washing! This is fine though, everyone else on campus does it, the SIP students are the only ones who really have access to washing machines, and even then they take hours and hours to use I've heard, especially with the power outages.

Every day from 3 until 6 at night, the power goes out. Expect it on a dime, without fail, there will be no power. I think that it's a purposfully imposed daily event due to the general power shortages all over South India. During the power hours, the power still can flicker in and out. I was in Ligampally (a nearby shopping district) yesterday when it happened several times to stores I'd be in. Many stores would have generators outside that would be cranked on to light the store. The generators are gas powered though and spew even more exhaust into the already polluted streets. My mucus is black the days after I've ventured into the city, and sometimes I can feel a slight burning in my lungs right after. Some people cover their mouths with handkerchiefs to filter the air they breathe, and this I imagine I'll probably take up as well.

In Ligampally I bought sandals and picked up that pair of pants that I was measured for. They fit superbly, I'm impressed. Maybe I'll have to go back and get another pair made, although they also have a center to do that on campus. I'm also trying to find more shirts, but they always seem to be too short, though in actuallity I suppose it's me that's too tall. The sandals were a big deal for me. I never wear sandals. Ever. But the ones they have here are much cooler than the ones in the States. Plus there are so many places that you should take your shoes off: before entering a temple, going to yoga, before going into a store, even before going into someone's dorm room. Shoes and socks are just not meant for this place, but sandals work out great.

I also eat with my hands now without even thinking about it, of course I do think to remember to wash my hands before meals!

The bucket showers are going well too, I kindof have a routine now of how much water to use, when to apply soap, how to rinse it off, etc. I'm also trying this hair oil that seems to be everywhere. There really aren't conditioners, but there are so many hair oils. It really defines my curls and makes them look wet for a while, but I like it enough to keep up with it. Plus it's herbal, not chemical. And the directions on the bottle are written in Hindi. That makes it even better.

Hindi has 13 vowels and 33 consonants. Each vowel can be modified with how you taper the vowel at the end of the pronounciation by writing it a slighly different way. Each consonsant can also be written in conjunction with other consonants if there is no vowel in between. This requires different script though, a lot to memorize. We covered it all in 2 days. Now for practice...

I was coming back from Hindi the other day along this path that runs through thick brush to get to the SIP house quickly. There's a corner that you need to round where a building sits on your left and dense plant foliage is on your right. I was zooming around it on my bike when I had to stop abruply due to a massive object blocking the path. A cow, about as tall as I was and with huge horns, was grazing leisurely. Not really quite knowing what to do for a few seconds, I ended up lightly tapping his side and whispering "excuse me." It took him a while to passively lean to the side to let me pass, and I left giggling all the way back to the house.

Anyway, the bucket laundry went well, my clothes were sure dirty, the water was brown after. I hung things up outside on the clothes lines and also on my bed and stuff in my room. The articles outside were the least valuable to me (I wasn't quite sure if stealing was a problem or not), and this ended up being mostly underwear. My wing of the students hostel is adjacent to Gops and kindof up on a hill. Any student in Gops could see my boxers hanging in plain view. That's really probably not a big deal at all since every student has to do it anyway. I came back from Ligampally last night late and collected my clothes, still hanging, in the dark. I must have dropped one though because a pair of boxers greeted me this morning on the dirty concrete floor outside of the bathroom, sopping wet from last night's rain.

Two days ago we decided to try out one of the places of recomendation in the student's handbook that CIEE gave us (the other SIP students were eager to copy this valuable handbook). We (Ben, Batia, Becca, Tori, Melissa and me) decided upon a bakery in Banjara Hills. We took a bus to get there (two actually) and got pretty lost before finding it. It took about an hour to get there, but we were having fun the whole time, either joking amogst ourselves or talking to people around. The bakery was European style with pastries, bread, and cakes. I had apple pie that was so delicious and a really nice break to the spice of Indian food (although I'm a fan of that as well). Because the busses didn't run past 11 or so, we took autorickshaws back. As soon as one auto had stopped to ask if we needed his assistance, more and more kept coming. We'd bargain with one and another would come to offer other prices. By the time we decided to continue to walk ahead because they wouldn't go below 300 rs, at least 7 autos clogged the street, all clammoring to get our attention. We continued to walk, but they kept following, shouting lower prices. We'd just shake our heads, not willing to go below 300 for all of us. Finally two pulled in front of us and stopped, they were willing to drive us for our price. Our auto ride was incredible. Our driver (about our age) and his friend, also in the front, blasted this great Indian music as we weaved all about the roads, even between huge trucks. It only took maybe twenty minutes to get back to the university, and was well worth the $1.25...

In addition to the power going out, there are intermittently huge booms that echo in the distance and shake the windows and walls, sounding as if we're under attack. These are blasts that are happening on the outskirts of Hyderabad. As the city continues to grow, rock formations need to be blasted away depite many protests to protect the environment. The blasts sometimes really catch me off guard; just another thing to keep me on my toes I guess :)

So after an early breakfast on Monday we were off to the university. I had a general idea of what classes I may like to take, but some of them didn't even have times yet. Because we hadn't moved in yet and didn't even quite know what we were going to be taking etc. it in so many ways didn't feel like the first day of school. There are 3 girls and 2 boys (including me) staying in the hostels on campus, whereas the rest of the CIEE group is in the guest house on campus which houses only the American students. Everyone else had moved in already, but the keys for my and Ben's room still needed to be acquired. I decided not to wait for it and head off to an Indian Society anthropology class with a few other students, my first class here. We were relatively late, so I had to walk in front of everyone (maybe a dozen or two) to sit in the front. The professor sounded understandable enough, although it was a two hour lecture, so it was hard to pay attention.

The classes here meet 4 hours a week, either twice for 2 hours or four days an hour each. Usually students don't ask questions during the lecture. Additionally, it can be VERY difficult to understand the professor. Especially if there are loud fans above. Many are soft spoken too, accent aside. I've found that the students as well are VERY quiet in general, when they speak it barely sounds like a whisper; maybe I'm just used to the "loud" States, but I must say that I prefer vocalizing oneself, it makes for facilitated communication. Finally, Indian society is an oral one, not a written one. It's always been that way and not until the British came and started documenting those in India was there reliable text detailing Indian history. Anyway, the professors live this reality, lecturing at the students and rarely writing anything on the board behind them, certainly never using presentation aids like powerpoint or overhead (or at least I've never seen them used). For all these reasons it makes it a special challenge to pay close enough attention to understand what is going on.

An additional issue I've encountered is the lack of room assignments. If there is a class listed on the course sheet, you're lucky if there are times listed. Never are room numbers listed. You kind of have to make an educated guess which building a particular class is in and just head over to the department; in my case I also have to guess in which direction to travel...the campus is still so huge and foreign to me and difficult to navigate. Once you're in the department, you search for someone to talk to, either the professor or department head, to ask where a class is being held. Maybe or maybe not they'll know. When you head to the classroom, either the professor will or won't be there; the door may or may not be locked; students might be or might not be around.

Tori and I wanted to see if it would be possible to take a third semester philosophy course, so we went to visit the professor. We started off with asking him a simple question about course prerequisites, but the conversation lasted about two hours (or rather him talking at us). He got into ancient scrips, scuba diving, Columbia University, Buddha, academic reliability of certain texts, and the pursuit of knowledge...if I recall correctly, although there were probably more topics involved. Much of the time I wondered how any of it related to the information we were seeking in the first place, but Tori and I paid close attention and at least looked like we were interested. Someone came into his office and put a sheet on his desk. He gave it to us after glancing at it and said *oh look, there's the course schedule.* Tori and I eagerly took it to see if it could fit with other classes. He continued talking at us. I realized that the course we were talking about should be starting really soon. *They never realized that Sanskrit actually meant refined...the ancient texts--* "Um, sir, I think this class is starting now" *Hmm?* "Indian philosophy III, it's starting at noon" He took it and stared at the timetable for some time. *So it is* We walked into the class room and there was no one else there (I guess you couldn't really expect any people to be at a class that was just scheduled a few mintues ago). Anyway we both sat down in the front and Dr. Varma at the desk facing us. We kindof stared at each other for a few minutes, not quite knowing what to talk about, whether or not to start the lecture or just wait until tomorrow. I also was not too keen in asking another question that would entail a two hour long response. A dog wandered into the classroom. He laid down on the cool tile under the ceiling fan and panted, looking around the room. We continued to wait for a few more minutes, and then Dr. Varma started talking, we got into the schools of Indian philosphy, what the term Hindu means, etc. And this lasted for another two hours. No other students came. It was an interesting experience, Dr. Varma really knows his stuff for sure, but like everything here, it was different from what I'm used to.

The classes are in halls that are covered but open to the environment, as are the department rooms. A dog could easily wander into a classroom, but there's no way that would happen at Muhlenberg. Students usually scare the dogs away if they come. Additionally, it's common to walk alongside cows to class, as well as stumble over giant millipedes and lizards.

My free time the past few days has been just getting things in order. Seeing professors about meeting times and syllibi (syllibi are hard to come by, unfortunate because I need to know whether or not some will count for Muhlenberg gen ed requirements), submitting a deposit for my bike, getting a coursebook from the CIEE office, seeing if my hindi class time can be changed, replacing my lost student identity card, seeing if I can take a music class, etc. Right now it's Wednesday night and still no one quite knows what their schedule is, although most are confident that we'll be ok by the time registration come around next week.

Anyway, Monday evening after dinner I moved into my hostel room. The whole hostel is concrete, as is every building on campus. I couldn't quite find my hall, but no wonder because the student I asked for directs, Ehap, pointed down a dark corridor in the back. I approached my room trepidly, waiting until my eyes could adjust to the darkness. My room was...my room, I guess I didn't know what exactly to expect, but it sure is different. Everything is concrete, excluding the bed and desk. There are bars across the windows, the fan kindof and kindof didn't work, there was no blanket (although I was able to aquire one later), it was dusty and a little smelly, just shocking in general I guess, I coulnd't quite grasp for the longest time that this was now my home. I felt a little disturbed, but excited too because that's what I wanted in the first place. One of my goals of this trip is being placed outside of my comfort zone, the hostel seems to accomplish that to some degree. All my comments are not complains, just comments, this is how the students live, and just the way things are. I don't regret my decision to live there, a homestay would have been too far removed from campus and the guest house would have prevented me from integrating into the campus to the extent I wanted. The bathrooms lie at the end of the floor and are open to the environment kindof. There's sinks and showers and toilets, but their pretty grungy.

Toilet paper may or may not be available in the bathrooms. If it is, it cannot be flushed down western style toilets but likely can be flushed down Indian style toilets. If there is toilet paper and you're using a western style toilet, there may or may not be a trash can to dispose of it. Washing with water is generally always an option, but I've not really tried that yet. I have although been showering with bucket water. Many people do that, especially those living in the Ladies hostels because they kindof don't have showers from what I hear. It's fun and interesting, you have to work for the water, pouring it over yourself, as opposed to just standing there relaxing...all in all it must save a lot of water too, which, with the lack of monsoon rains, is a good idea. I'll also opt for washing my clothes in the large bucket that they provide you, the washing machines I think are too far away for me to feasibly carry all my stuff to wash it. That's what many people to I'm pretty sure anyway, the back of the Tide powder detergent gives directions specific to bucket washing, it doesn't even look like it's meant for washing machines. It's all part of the different experience, and exciting too, it's a whole new lifestyle.

Tuesday I had Conversational Hindi, and we went over the 13 vowels and many of the 33 consonants. I loved the whole thing, it was the first time I was being educated in a script that was foreign to me. It's going to require a lot of practice! The sounds are especially difficult, incorporating aspiration, non-aspiration, and specific ways of using the tongue to produce retroflexion and non-retroflexion.

I also had a Indian Medieval History class that day, but the syllibus made the class seem really difficult with a required reading list of 16 books for the semester, not to mention recommended readings. That reminded me that all of these classes are graduate-level, some upper-graduate level. Yeah I may have to switch out of that class.

It's a lot of fun coming back to the guest house to eat meals; I get to socialize with all the CIEE students I've grown close to and the other SIP students coming from California, South Dakota, South Carolina, and other places. It's something to look foreward to and grab a hold of, despite all the uncertainty we're all going through. I'll continue to eat there for a while until I muster enough courage to try the campus food, to which Kavitha says it will take a month to acclimate.

I also went to Yoga for the first time on Wednesday morning; it was pretty enjoyable and a great way to start the day. I may end up taking a certification class as well.

I'm getting used to the campus by now and have an idea about where to be heading myself when I need to be somewhere. Of course things are still uncertain regarding my course schedule and...practically everything else that I'm involved in here, but going with the flow is a virtue that I've been meaning to develop for some time now, and again, it's all part of being in a different culture.

Yesterday we had lectures informing us about the SIP (Study in India) Program and general academics and life at the University. Here's some interesting information about the school in general that I jotted down: The University of Hyderabad is more commonly known as Central University because it is funded by the federal (central) government. It was founded in 1974 and presently has about 3,000 students. It's student to faculty ratio is 1:9, the best (lowest) in all of India. 1/3 of the students are female and 90% of all the students live on campus; about 10% of all the students are from other countries. The campus as a whole is 2,300 acres with over 500,000 trees, 4 lakes, and many valleys and rock formations. It is located Northwest of Hyderabad city. There are 20 people living in the SIP guest house (mostly all through the CIEE program), but there are 46 SIP students this semester in total, coming in with other programs and such (they all arrive when classes start without the beneficial and awesome orientation that we as CIEE students get!). This SIP program is only 10 years old or so through the University of Pittsburgh. And started with only 8 students; now there's over 150 a year that go through the program each year.

We also looked through courses and registered with the library; I'm still not sure exactly what I'm taking, but it should solidify itself within the next week. When we got back to the resort, Ben, Harrison, and Spencer decided to go walking around nearby in the city; I joined them and we ended up wandering into a bar. It was an interesting experience...there was only one light bulb in the whole place that was lit when we walked in. Everything was sticky and stuff or wet from pouring drinks sloppily. They got Kingfisher and Armstrong beers, but I was fine with water, especially since I wasn't sure if these had the glycol preservatives in them that I'd heard about before. We ended up talking about our respective colleges, and this somehow led into discussions of the apocalypse and possible future self-annihilation through war, famine, disease, etc. It was an unexpected conversation to say the least but the others had opinions on it that I was curious on hearing. Harrison is definitely sure that we're going to be wiped out, but that a few will survive to continue the race. Feelings of paranoia crept about me; likely it was the discussion topic, maybe it was the unfamiliar and grimy bar, possibly it was even the mefloquine antimalarials.

Back at the resort there was a huge business party going on; they were being extremely loud and were dancing around and stuff, but it was entertaining to listen to as we swam around in the pool before dinner.

After eating, most of us ended up in one of the girls rooms and we all had amazing discussions on all sorts of things. It's amazing how at home I feel with these people, and how close we've all gotten in only one week. Julia and I talked more about our theories on how India and the States compare, prompted by being informed earlier in the day that grades were frequently posted in the newspaper or on display on campus. It seems that here in India one has less ownership over what happens in their lives. People's lives are like a stream, we're just canoes in it that can sortof change where we're pointing, but not the whole flow. Life can bring shit to the table sometimes, and certainly it can be unpredictable; the difference is in whether or not significant fault seems to be placed on you for the undesirable things that happen. When you get a bad grade, it's not so much a reflection of your identity (as in the States) as it is just something else that has happened in your life. There's really no reason why it can't be shared. On the bus between international and domestic airports in Mumbai, I was alarmed to see a full size jet that was sawed in half, laying beside the runway. It must have been broken or...something, I don't quite know why it was there, but it was alarming for me because that for sure wouldn't be a sight to see in the States; it would cause too much concern. It would let you know that sometimes bad things happen; sometimes planes brake, no matter how reliable an airline is. Here, it's like there's no need to be superficial about anything, what's good is good and what's bad is bad; if there's a plane that looks like this, maybe it's not on the top of my priority list to get it out of the way because there are more important things to worry about than lying to passengers that planes never end up looking this way.

A related theme is the lack of regard for personal space. I'm totally ok with that; we're way too protective about it in the States. Ownership again. What's mine is mine and yours is yours. We're also wayyy to easily offended. I don't care if you're touching me on the bus, there's no way around it and, no, it's not like I'm being harmed. Personal questions like "are you married?" the first time you meet someone gives you something interesting to talk about; no need to jump around social niceties that skirt around the risk of making those involved uncomfortable at the compromise of conversation with some kind of significance.

Anyway we had to go to bed relatively early because the next day was Khojo Hyderabad (Search/discover Hyderabad). This was an awesome program. Picture it: We're divided into groups of about 4 and given the location of a specific place in the city. We're to find our way there (likely by way of autorickshaw), and upon arrival we engage in cultural activities that deepen our understanding of Hyderabad and India in general. We travel all around like this for the whole day, and at the end "points" are added up depending on the time it took each group to reach each destination, the cost of transportation for each group, and how well we answered certain questions about the activities. Our first stop was a home store where we learned how fabrics are dyed and stamped with designs. I also learned how the process of embroidering works through first hand experience (no one could explain it either, the workers spoke no English so I learned through observation). Thread is circled around a small hook and brought up through thin fabric; it is threaded under the fabric and then up through again, ending up through the previous loop. Yes, it is as confusing as it sounds and, yes, I do have an extended appreciation of it now.

We ate lunch at a place in this mall that had 6 levels. It was obviously pretty high-end and really tasty...the best part was biryani rice with Thai curry poured over it (I combined them myself because it was my idea). Anyway, we got an auto to the next stop, a museum. Our auto driver was named Jafiz? (Half-eez) and was quite the driver. I thought I was going to be killed at least a dozen times. It's really not a big deal to those who are used to driving in the city, but to an American who is used to obeying traffic laws and driving in-between the lines, it's a borderline traumatic experience until you realize that you're in good hands. There's really no way to describe it; I was sitting in the front with him this time too, hunched over because I was too tall, so my head was practically right up against the glass in the front (do they call it a windshield?) and aptly able to see all the obstacles that we were about to hit...all the time...from anywhere. You name it, bikes, other autos, cars, people, curbs, carts, animals...anything can come at you from anywhere. It's that personal space thing again; I'm not used to not having any...especially something like practically touching other vehicles while traveling at vicious velocities and accelerations. Jafiz was unphased, never flinched once, meanwhile I was practically screaming the whole time...and, yes, having the time of my life; it was probably better than any roller coaster I've been on. And he was talking to me the whole time too. We talked about the Muslim faith, working in Hyderabad, his family, driving in the city, all kinds of things. He kept asking us if we wanted to go other places of interest; he was likely just trying to be a good guide and show us around the city, but we had an agenda to keep and despite our constant attempts to explain it to him, I don't really think he ever got that we were racing. Once he stopped next to a fruit stand to suggest a special fruit that he liked. Of course there I was asking how much it cost and what it tasted like while Mindi, Thy, and Batia in the back shouted at me to end my insatiable curiosity and have Jafiz speed up the auto again. We also talked about language (everyone here speaks so many of them!); although he's relatively uneducated, he speaks Urdu, Telugu, English, and Hindi. Telugu is the state language of Andrah Pradesh, but a mixture of Urdu and Hindi is conversationally spoken usually. This mix makes the Urdu that is spoken here more similar to Hindi than to the Urdu that is spoken throughout Pakistan. I would have liked to talk to him more, or at least say a goodbye that was longer than half a second, but as soon as we pulled up to the museum, we all had to jump out and run, as another group was arriving as well. I think we ended up getting there first, practically knocking several Indians down on the way to the front line and arriving without enough breath to speak.

The museum was dedicated to the seventh ruler of the Nizam dynasty, the one who build the Chomahalla (sp?) Palace. Maybe I'll look up his name later, I can't remember it now. The most interesting thing there was a marble statue of a women with a veil over her body; you could see her as a whole person, even with a facial expression, but she had this flowing veil covering her that looked like it was blowing in the wind...all cut from one marble. So while I was there, not even making eye-contact with others because I was looking at various articles, a total of three Indians came up to me and out of the blue started conversations, usually starting with "where are you from?" The last one was really vocal, having lots of ideas that he was just dying to get a foreign opinion about. It was interesting, we got into a conversation about the Iraqi war and Bush. When I told him that there were things he did with which I did not agree, he asked "why did you elect him then?" Oh what could be farther from the truth. I explained myself, and tried not to blame him for the misconception; if a president is a representative of a country, why wouldn't a citizen of that country be represented by the president? Maybe he wasn't aware of Bush's ratings. We exchanged emails as I headed off to the entrance of the museum, already late for the next stop, a temple.

We stepped out of the museum to answer the offers of several auto drivers, all wanting 150 or so rupees to get us there. We all tried to talk them down, being advised not to go above 75 or certainly 100 rs. We were afraid that we'd have to take a hit and end up paying more than other groups when my Jafiz drove up! (it had been at least an hour and a half to two hours that we were in the museum, it was sheer coincidence that he was passing by) He offered us 80 rs. charge with which we promptly agreed, plus I was eager to continue our conversations. After arriving at the temple, I tipped him 10-20 rs. for the good (and thankfully safe) time as we parted. At the temple (ramakrishna math I think?) we had a guided discussion on Indian philosophy. Travis, a philosophy major, ate it all right up.

The temple stressed purity, excellence, strength, etc. I asked the lecturer what defined "right" and "wrong" (just to see what he'd say). He had the rest of us applaud at my question because he enjoyed it so, although everyone else was reluctant to praise me for asking yet another question (my curiosities of many things have run deep in the past week). He answered by saying that the brain was fickle and changes from day to day, but that the heart was constant and would provide any answer you seek. I wasn't quite sure how to take that answer, it is always your brain that has to choose right and wrong, but maybe it's that there are some pervasive morals/values that we need to honor (heart) and that can guide us. Travis (usually quiet) ended up asking the most questions; I was so glad that he could understand our lecturer because I sure couldn't. What I could piece together from the hour and a half discussion was what I just wrote, the rest might as well have been Telugu. Yes it was another one of those language barrier times, fortunately I was not so frustrated by it this time; it was what it was and I couldn't really do anything about it. Cat was devastated though, we stepped ouside and she nearly cried (mostly sarcastically though, you have to know Cat to understand how she acts) and claimed she was going through a crisis; she was so interested in the philosophy in the temple and imagined that it would solve so many of life's issues, but she just could not understand what was being said. I explained to her that I knew how frustrating it was, having something you wanted so bad right in front of you but still being unreachable. Evidently no one ended up understanding the poor man very well. Except Travis. Maybe he was just listening that much more intently.

We were on our way to the next stop (a park) and decided to walk, being told by locals it wasn't far. Of course the locals had a lot to say about the wrong things, we were lead in back to the temple several times. I've never quite experienced being in the center of attention like I did when we were trying to find this park, and you know how I'm always the center of attention when walking though this city. Yes, I got the stares, but people approached me a lot this time. They'd come up to you and hold their hand out to greet you, practically mystified as they stumbled out some English to the effect of "where are you from?" When you'd go to shake their hands, they wouldn't let go...not really like you couldn't physically get away, but you knew for sure the handshake just wasn't over quite yet. Then another person would come, and another, and there would be more hands to shake, and more questions to answer. My group continued on in the other direction, figuring I'd follow eventually. We all had cells, I'd be able to get back with them but I still needed to find a way to free myself. More people came. Someone who spoke English pretty well came forward and asked if I needed help with something. He told me how to get to the park (the directions I could tell were actually back to the temple); I thanked him nonetheless, and then he promptly asked again if I needed any help. Others asked more questions, more stares. Never was I once fearful, just maybe weirded out by all the curiosity. That's what I love about this though, even though there are language barriers to get across here, they have curiosity about me, and I about them, and when that mutual interest is there, language just doesn't seem to be as important as living up and enjoying an attempted conversation. People started whipping out their cells, asking to take pictures. Yes I had to pose with many people. Come on, how could I be like..."ok, bye!" ?? More shaking, more questions. Suddenly a hand grasped my arm and pulled hard, yanking me away from the dozen or so that surrounded me. Startled, to looked around to see Cat dragging me away giggling to herself. Quickly I farewelled all my fans, so thankful that I had a legitimate excuse to leave and catch up with the rest of the group. I was afraid that some may be mad for holding them up like that, but Cat said that she came to get me mostly just because they didn't want me to be left behind.

We located a large lake in the center of the city, but still needed to find out which way to walk. Our map wasn't helping and two other groups joined us, lost as well. I went up to someone my age nearby and started up a conversation (I'm known to do that now), first asking if he spoke English and then asking if he knew where this forsaken park was. He didn't quite know how to respond, but Ben came over and tried his luck at Hindi. More Indians nearby came over, and one came forward who knew English pretty well; he tried to tell us where he thought it was but wasn't really sure, of course it seemed like no one was really sure. One of the other group members came by to enter into the discussion, the rest were arguing with auto drivers over prices and staring at the map that didn't make any sense. A toothless old woman tugged at my sleeve and motioned her hand to a child's mouth who was sitting in her arms. I don't like kids, but this one was adorable. She smiled as she glanced at me, and I at her, then she started giggling. Her smile melted me and made me laugh too. Then she pointed to her mouth and made a wincing face. I shook my head at them both, looking up at the rest of the crowd that had gathered. There were at least, no lie, two to three dozen people that had formed this semicircle around us, all staring and some trying to talk in English. The women kept tugging. This is ridiculous, why the hell am I not helping her at all? It'd be different if there were more beggers around; you wouldn't be able to give to them all, yeah, I've heard that before. This woman though was the only one that I saw the whole day in the city. I asked Lindsay for some small change since I had only unbroken 100s (it seems like small bills are worth more than their larger sum bills...people generally have a hard time making change); she gave her 4 rs. and we were done with it; whatever, I could wipe it from my mind and we could get on our way, what is literally 10 cents to me anyway?

We took a guess as to what direction to go and started away, my group shouting at me to stop talking and get a move on. There were more pictures before we left, more handshakes, etc. I ran up behind the group and Rachel turned to me with wide eyes and said "how do you do it? how do you end up starting up conversations like that?" I explained that it definitely helped looking the way I do for sure! She was in envy. For certain reasons it would suck to be one of the girls in the group, mostly because they can't really have the social freedom that us men do. They can't smile at others acceptably, and it would be strange to be seen striking up a conversation like I love doing; other women in the society I've heard just aren't that engaging either, they seem to be used to keeping quiet.

Anyway we had to end up calling Anuj and Madhuri to get directions to the park. Before boarding the bus to go eat dinner I had met several other characters, all about my age or a little older. During one conversation they asked what I was doing standing alongside the road; when I said that I was waiting for a break in traffic to get to the other side, one grabbed my arm and started walking into the road with his other hand up in the air, halting the cars rocketing and honking down the street. Although I felt kindof like an old lady, I was thankful for the assistance.

We had dinner at this hotel and it was AMAZING; I'm not quite sure why, just how it tasted I guess, I mean there weren't any especially new dishes there, it was just so good though. I especially loved the paneer butter masala. Maybe I'm getting good with eating with my hands; that's still so weird but so much fun. Many of the other students regularly do it too. Anuj and Avenish and I joked around a lot at dinner, everyone was in such a good mood. They'd joke with me about how inquisitive I was especially, but I could tell they liked answering all my questions. I made a mental note though to make sure to keep things in check; even though none of my questions were dumb ones, you don't want to be annoying.

Then the prizes were awarded. It felt kindof like Harry Potter. The points for each team were tallied and summed. My team came in second, and after the award was divided up amongst us, I had 2,500 rs., or over 60 dollars; not a bad profit for an amazing day that I'd give practically anything to relive. On the ride back to the resort I was just recalling all the people I had met throughout the day and everywhere we had been, all we had done; what en experience! It's hard to believe that the orientation is already over. Today is the last day of "summer." Tomorrow is the start of the academic semester. I have classes tomorrow. It's a school night. It can't feel farther from it though. I'm having the time of my life, and although I like school and all, the word "school" certainly doesn't conjure up such an amazing experience as this one. India's been awesome so far, and I can't wait to start classes and meet all kinds of people. Who ever thought that getting an education could be so fun?

Today was the most frustrating here so far. We had a lecture on academic norms, BPOs, and the human rights movement here. The material was interesting, but I suppose it was certain cultural differences that ate away at me.

BPO stands for Business Process Outsourcing, the process where people are hired (usually under 30 years of age) by foreign companies to work in jobs that don't require core competence and that are usually monotonous and labor intensive. Examples include accounting and marketing positions, I'm not exactly sure what else, but these are the people that are answering technical support questions and such for US companies. People see such jobs as opportunities for independence and responsibility (hence the draw for newly graduated college students). Those working in these positions though have to work through the night and sleep during the day (since they need to be up when America is); this has interesting psychological ramifications, especially as relationships with others in the outside world fall by the wayside. They also work in high quality conditions that include air-conditioning; hence people become jaded to those conditions and expect to be provided as such. This provides even more incentive to remain working for BPO jobs in addition to a good income despite obvious problems people develop. About 60% of college grads go into BPO positions, especially in Hyderabad because the technicality of the city is prevalent.

The man who gave the lecture on the human rights movement was so enthusiastic and interesting to listen to, and you could tell he really knew what he was talking about. The problem was most of the time though that I couldn't understand what he was saying. I'd get a lot of the pieces, but I have trouble putting it all together. I have the same issues with Spanish; if I hear a word I don't know, I get hung up on it and lose understanding of the whole idea/thought. I was so interested in the issues presented though; I had so many questions and curiosities and at the same time realized how much I still have to learn about the conditions in the country. It's not something that could even be fixed by asking one of the other students what was said...what would I say? "Ok, what was the whole lecture about again?" Even when I ask the program directors questions I have about Indian culture, etc. it's so much work for me to try to understand what is being said. I just have major frustrations because my curiosity cannot be satiated right now; I need to learn patience. Eventually things will fall into place, just not at the present moment.

Spoken English here is so interesting. It's extremely hard to understand, but people who speak English know like all of it; it's not a question of vocabulary etc. but of pronunciation. They could write a ton about something all in English and have complete understanding of what words to use etc., but if I were to listen to them say the written word, I wouldn't really be able to understand it probably. For some reason or another, it is just significantly difficult for me to hear through the Indian accent to the point where it is like I'm hearing another language.

Also, classes here don't all start at the same time. In addition to not having a syllabus ready, classes start at the whim of the professor usually within the first days/weeks after the university opens. A reliable course list is not really generated. This means that I'll not know what options I'll have available really until after classes have started. Also, material for the class is missed inevitably at the beginning if you're moving around trying to find classes. I don't know how the whole thing will end up working, maybe it won't be that bad, but it sure is different and seemingly more inconvenient. This is just the way things are run. The written word is not as useful as the spoken word. Written things change, so it we won't really know the class situation until we can talk to the professors. Maps are scarce, directions are asked for here, not looked up. Music is not written down (this will surely provide a great opportunity for me to experience something very different in music since I'm so used to reading ). Things are just different from what I'm used to and it's frustrating sometimes. I guess it's all part of being somewhere else; this wasn't meant to be easy and what I'm used to.

After arriving back at the resort, many of us decided to go to Koti. Koti is a large area of Hyderabad where there are many outdoor shops, and it's also about 30 minutes of a bus ride away through traffic. Walking to the bus, I remember a group of boys maybe of ages 13-16 run up to me and say right away *Hah-lo! How arre youh?* I'll always be admiring of how friendly and outgoing some of these people are. After I responded some of them asked if I was married, a common question to ask someone my age. After I said no, they smiled and said *oh, so youh arre batch-el-or!* I walked away laughing.

On these bus rides, I always find a way to meet someone, whether by effort or just by answering questions people ask me. The back of the bus is quite conducive to that, the seats are benches around the 3 sides of the back with a space in the middle for standing room; you can easily face others for conversation, or at least acknowledge the stares. The buses have no doors; that would be too cumbersome, as people always are jumping in and out of them. I remember seeing a conductor yelling at a kid through the window to pay as he stood on the bottom step but rested his body on the outside of the bus. Half the time the bus is moving when people are getting on and off. I think while boarding this bus I had to jump on, grad hold of a bar as tight as I could, and push my way in the crowd of the bus to avoid losing the group which was already on.

Walking through Koti was like nothing I had ever seen. Shops at all angles and filled to the brim with goods lines the streets, indescribably packed with carts and people. As my group of 9 walked through the street, though, everyone nearby would turn to face us and part as we walked through. Half of them would jump on the opportunity and run up to us to start selling. There was one child with a box full of white...ball things that continued to follow Ben practically the whole time we were there. We could never figure out what those things were, maybe candy or possibly moth balls.

On the way back, Ben and I got off the bus too early again, having to walk a while to catch up to the rest. It was quite difficult to coordinate with the girls at the front of the bus when exactly to get off. I got some Maaza mango juice at a road stand, and excitedly almost bought packets of what I thought were shampoo (but turned out to be tobacco). That evening I skipped dinner (my average meals per day for the past week has averaged at about 1.5), but was just fine chatting with everyone else while they ate; we ended up playing games and such around the table late into the night.

The next morning Dr. Rao gave a seminar. We discussed different things that individually had brought us to India, and talked a great deal about being a "global citizen," who's home is everywhere and who is acquainted with all sorts of cultures. It is a rosy concept which many aspire to become; we read an essay though that complicated the matter. The author was a study abroad student who was traveling around India, Tibet, and Nepal. She ended up being very disappointed that her identity remained the same to everyone else, whether or not she had changed inside as a result of the experience. To everyone she met, she was different, and this precluded her integration into the cultures in which she stayed that she so deeply desired. This really struck me because I, like her, was hoping to become as "Indian" as possible. Dr. Rao put it well: *You can choose to lose yourself by being a vacuum and filling yourself in order to become the other, or you can retain yourself and understand the other.* There are inevitable differences between each of each of us and those of this culture, but those differences don't have to be barriers. Such differences make us unique and contribute to the color of interpersonal interaction, becoming another and painting over all of that wouldn't make me unique but someone else. These conclusions made me doubly excited to be here on an emotional level, realizing all the opportunities I was going to have, and had had so far, to meet so many kinds of people. By the end of the session, I could barely contain myself.

That afternoon we toured Ligampally, an area by the school and where we'll probably end up spending a lot of time shopping and such if we choose to during the semester. In one of the stores I went into, several saried women followed me around staring at me while I wasn't looking. As soon as I'd glance at them, they'd smile and turn away.

After returning to the resort, I and a few others went rock climbing and ended up getting great views of the resort and gated community grounds, much of Hyderabad, and even the Golconda Fort in the distance. We all cooled off in the pool before dinner.

At dinner, somehow very heady discussions got started. I remember Amanda beginning a lecture on stopping light by passing it through super-cooled fused atoms and creating black holes by crashing particles into one another. We ended up talking about the differences between science and math and other academic fields. This led to a discussion/debate on empiricism that lasted at least 3 hours. There were arguments on the existence of subjectivity and how the motivation behind science and limited manners of observation clouded pure objectivity. We ended up much of the time in semantic argument, but I suppose that was what it was all about, how we define such things. We ended up distinguishing between the Object, the object, and even later on an object with a middle-case "o". It's difficult to explain, I'm not even sure if I could re-explain everything, but interested parties can inquire further for more information.

Into the early morning, Tori, Julia, and I talked about our families, pasts, hopes for future lives, and differences between India and the States. One of the most interesting phenomena that I've picked up on so far is the difference in how the poor are regarded. What I'm concluding is very subjective (ha) and generalized, but I see the homeless/those in poverty who are in the states very much looked down upon. Questions arise like How do we eradicate homelessness? There are countless jokes about the poor and homeless. I see them being regarded as a burden, as low-lives who haven't made it for themselves. In the States, things are very linear, there is a path of accomplishment, and how far you travel on that path is supposed to be directly proportional to how hard you work (I'm not going to get into the fallacies of the American Dream though here). The media portrays the wealthy, healthy, and beautiful as objects of aspiration, goals to reach if we can just put our minds to it. We never seem to be good enough. There is always something to do, something to accomplish/achieve/meet/be better at. Those without money who live without basic necessities are those who haven't been able to travel down such a path, and being all the farther away from the ideal makes them all the more undesirable. How I feel poverty and such is observed here us that such living conditions are simply the way they are. People exist in disparate styles of living, side by side. This is the way it is, and whether or not it is the way it *should* be, it works and fits for everyone. Those who perform meager work (slaughter houses/funeral pyre construction) may or may not see it not as undesirable, but probably do see it as necessary for society. There is no unreachable to achieve, there is only your life to live (granted part of living such a life is dominating the caste below you). It is what it is, not it is what it will be, like in the States, always feeling the urgency of meeting an objective that is just one step away. Tori felt sorrow when she saw no one acknowledging an old woman cleaning out garbage in the airport. I would too if I saw that in the States, but I feel different here somehow. Things like that are seen all around here; there is no need to acknowledge it any special way because it is just the way things are. Such a woman would be acknowledged in the States; she'd be scorned or observed with pity, a side effect of the system. People would feel bad that she hasn't been able to accomplish the necessities, whereas those same people are embedded within a system that precludes their accomplishment of their respective necessities, as there is always always always at least one more step to reach happiness. Poverty and such here seems less a side effect but a part of the system, a part of the whole and not so much an exception to the rule. Such observations of mine are only preliminary and may be totally wrong, but it is how I feel at present. I'd like to investigate further how each caste regards the others or themselves. Aspiration seems to be such an integral part of life in the States, does it play such a role here as well? Also, it would be interesting to investigate how blame is placed; it may be prevalently seen that present misfortunes are the result of a cause in a past life and will be resolved in the future. Therefore, to what extent are people blamed for their present living conditions, and to what degree is an individual expected to have agency over changing those conditions?

The next day I was up at 7 for this police deal. By the way, the day I went to Koti, 11 people had been registered, a process that required nearly 7 hours. By 9 am we were sitting in the office which felt like waiting for a driver's license renewal. It was slightly darker and more hot though; the power went out often and randomly, sometimes for hours. It was exciting when the fans and lights came back on though. Prishanthi says that the recent lack of rain is causing these power outages; the dams are drying and without water replenishment they can't continue to supply energy demands (you'd think though that monsoon rain would contribute to these power outages). I remember waiting, reading, being called up to sign something, waiting, reading, photographed, waiting, signing, waiting, irises photographed, called up, told to wait etc. I'm not exactly sure how much of the waiting is what the police intend for or rather just maybe an attribution of disorganization and unpredictability that I'm not used to.

I also remember speaking to Prishanthi about the role of women in India. Everyone's heard of the "way" they're treated, being maybe dominated by the man (occupying the home for a job) or more restricted, sometimes being fully covered in public. Such mannerisms are in part true, but there is another facet to the situation that I was not aware of: women are also treated with utmost respect. Bus seating arrangements are in fact the result of such respect: The front is indeed more desirable, and is reserved indeed reserved for the women. Women are also given special queue lines to shorten the time they need to wait and priority coaches sometimes for comfort. I remember seeing such a queue line for security at Mumbai airport. What I thought to be a discriminatory action (alluding to black/white segregation about which I was accustomed to learning) was a respectful one to help the female, not exclude her. Here seems to be another contradiction to States' linearity; a spectrum of good-bad treatment gives way to an entirely different situation. That's what I see more and more about India; it may not be better, it may not be worse, but it sure is different.

We returned to the resort at about 2:30 (the 5 or so hour registration time was a relief compared to the 6-7 hours it took the others). After getting our cell phones (making local calls at 1 rs.(2 cents)/minute and calls to the states at 7.5 rs.(20 cents)/minute), several of us decided to venture to Ligampally again. I searched some shirts (although didn't buy any because they seemed too short on me) and scarves; I also ended up purchasing pants at a tailor. I've always wanted to have clothes made exactly for me...just to see if it turned out right. I walked up to the tailor and asked about the process. *One month.* "It takes a month to make the pants?" *Yes, one month* "Ok, so you measure me and I come back in a month to pick up the pants?" [2 second pause] *Yes, yes, one week* "Wait, just one week?" *Yes, a week for pant.* "Ok, well how much are they?" *mm, this clott...790* "790 rs. for a pair?" *Yes* "Well, what's your least expensive cloth...less rupees?* "Oh, yes, this other clott* "How much?" *650 rs.* "This is the least expensive cloth?" *Yes, yes* "Hmm...ok, what about this cloth then?" *Yes, ok, this clott* "Yeah, how much does this one cost?" *...590 rs.* "For this cloth?" *Yes, that clott.* After some more conversation and measuring, I think that I'm supposed to go back on the 23rd with the receipt to claim them. I hope I can find that shop again.

Ligampally was just a buzz and ever-stimulating to the senses. Odors that would knock you over drifted from a small lake/trash dump we needed to walk over. Delicious food stands made you wish you had a stomach for it. An auto would zoom in front of you, you'd turn to the side to see a store that looks intriguing; a motorcycle nearly hits you as it grazes past honking; whipping your head around to get your bearings, a saried woman walks gracefully by, the bright colors of her garments entrancing you. That day I also got so many stares. It was as if whole sections of the city would turn to look as I walked past...Ben got many too, but I can't be certain if any in the group get as many as I do. Some would laugh, some would smile, I never quite knew how to react. It felt as if you were on stage. You knew dozens and dozens were watching your every move, but you need to keep on acting like normal, normal being the performance of walking down the street. Sometimes I couldn't help myself and I'd let out smiles too, sometimes uncontrollably laughing out loud; either I found the situation funny or else maybe I just had absolutely no idea how to react.

The next day we were tourists. We visited the Chowmohall palace, streets of the old city, tombs of old rulers, and the Golconda fort. We encountered lots of mosquitoes, and fortunately Prishanthi had reminded me to bring some repellent. "Good morning Prishanti" *Matt, you arre to have mosquito crream today* "Oh, ok--" *Please go get it* "Oh, well I have some repellent, is that what you mean?" *No, no, the crream to deter the mosquitoes, please make shorre youh brring some, therre will be mosquitoes today* "Ok, well I have some of this spray in my bag" *Oh, mosquito spray, ok, yes, please go to get it* "I have it here in my bag" *oh, wit youh?* "yes" *...oh, yes, yes ok.*

Although I couldn't quite understand our guide, I was able to piece together some history.
India existed of separate sultanates, and was being ruled by middle eastern powers like Turkey for some time. During that time European powers like the Portuguese and Danish were colonizing. About 1500, the Moguls started their way across India. By 1750, the British had complete influence over India but through a Mogul emperor; however, by 1850 the British declared India under the rule of the queen and for the first time India was united. The palace we first visited was built for a dynasty of the Nazim Mogul rule in the Andrah Pradesh area. During and before this time, many tombs had been built for the rulers (construction of a tomb was actually the first priority of a newly appointed ruler, as he never quite knew when he would be overthrown or killed). These tombs we visited later, each one having the middle-eastern influenced pointed dome on top.

For lunch we went to a restaurant that served either a South or North Indian platter. I opted for the South Indian one, excited for the spiciness that I was promised. Kavitha sat across from me, and we discussed marriage among other things. She claims that about 30% of marriages are not arranged and that the internet is a growing method of meeting a future spouse. When the food arrived, she told me all about South Indian cuisine and also how to eat with my hands. Most of the other students I had seen doing this, but I knew it would be very different for me when I was able to muster up enough courage (I love utensils, especially forks which seem to be hard to come by). Anyway, I sure did get my hands dirty! Basically what you do with South Indian food is pour selected amounts and combinations of dishes (vegetables, lentils, curries, etc.) over rice and mix it with your right hand. You kind of arrange it into mouthful-balls; with North Indian food you use naan and other breads to kindof scoop the food. It was quite an experience and I imagine I'll be trying to get good at it, or rather just more accustomed to it. Not only does this method of food consumption prelude overeating (you're not just shoveling it in, but consuming bit by bit), but also it permits formulating the perfect mouthful with just the right combinations of flavor.

That evening we toured around the Golconda fort, the initial establishment of Hyderabad that was created in 1518 and that functioned as the seat of power for many rulers. From all of the walking I did that day (and sweating as well), it was no problem at all to collapse into bed as soon as I could that night.

So I'm sure any who know me understand how much I tend to eat, and maybe even how much I like Indian food (I do, a lot); when I have no motivation to eat for 36 hours, you know there must be at least some digestive issue at work. Fortunately when I woke up today I felt much better, and even though I hadn't developed much more of an appetite, I had some breakfast for nutritional reasons.

This afternoon has been amazing. First Amanda, Jesse, and I ran around the community for some for exercise. The whole area (maybe a square half mile) appears very well-to-do with multiple-story houses and fancy cars, not to mention the complimentary nearby tennis courts and playground. Just outside the gate that is constantly attended, though, are people who appear malnourished and carry on menial jobs who would surely beg if let inside the community.

After developing a heavy sweat in the heat and sun, several people including me went swimming in the resort pool and played a game of freeze tag. While relaxing in the pool before lunch, I realized how much these two orientation weeks were just like a vacation: staying in nice accommodations with a pool and catered meals, seeing sites of importance around the city, etc. How the cost was not more I can't be sure, maybe it's because I'm in India. The other thing is that I've really had to plan nothing, CIEE has been amazing at organizing all these orientation events and such, although the uncertainty of the timing or existence of events under Indian control can be noticed. I observed that today when we were to register with the police department.

Within 14 days, each of us needs to register with them for safety reasons; this includes verifying passports and providing personal information etc. No big deal right? Wrong. This registration has been mentioned by the staff here for days, and they've had to plan a great deal for it. Yesterday we entered information online, and today we were to go to the police station to finish the registration. I could tell Prishanthi was more tense today than usual. The administration there is extremely bureaucratic; the head there feels the need to justify his power over the public by making such registrations low on his priority list, sometimes refusing altogether to agree to take them. Kavitha, Madri, Prishanthi, and Anuj (all running the orientation) didn't know exactly how many students could be registered today; we all went in a bus to the station and parked outside. Six students who had arrived first in India (it was most crucial they were registered first to fulfill the 14 day deadline), passports in hand, were taken into the station and the rest of us waited. During that wait, Anuj answered questions the dozen of us or so (mainly me, I love to ask questions) had about India. Here are some things I learned:

There are three main whole head gestures in India (I was eager to clarify this): the nod, shake, and side-to-side bobble (I'll call it). North Indians use the bobble to mean "no," but the shake is preferred (90% of the time, 10% of the time bobbling is acceptable). South Indians use the bobble to mean "yes," and this is more prevalent (also 90%) to mean "yes" than the nod is.

Telugu is spoken throughout the state of Andrha Pradesh, of which Hyderabad is the capital, although Hindi is also used throughout like the rest of India. Urdu is a language that originated in the North amongst the royal, and is somewhat combined/mixed with Hindi in Hyderabad; this generates not only a royal feel during conversation, but a casual sense as well is conveyed (counterintuitive; I'm not sure why it is understood as being casual as well). Speaking pure Hindi is more formal than is this Hindi-Urdu mixture.

This language conversation evolved into that of a religious one. There are 3 "you" words in Hindi. The *tu* is used to refer to the lowly, over which one has authority; it is also used for the familiar (friends/family) sometimes. The highest "you" is only reserved for the most important and powerful. Which do you think they use to refer to God? The refer to God as the lowest of the "you"s; this conveys a sense of community with God, an equal-ness, pervasiveness, and reachability. Contrast that with Catholicism.

The Hindu religion is as a whole rather liberal; Gods are depicted as embodying any and all of human faults, including gluttony and lust (one God was married to 16,000 women). Anyway, this "liberalism" pervades throughout other aspects of Indian thought, such as how they regard their own culture. I asked Anuj if it would be seen as insulting if one of us were wore a sari or other traditional clothing. I imagined it would be that way based on intense ownership issues I've noticed throughout the States; integrating others and diversity into a school of thought or group could be perceived as "tainting" the sacred original and creating something less distinctive and valuable. It is just the opposite with regard to our wearing traditional garments in India. They would be honored/pleased to see that. Not only does it mean more business for them (we would have needed to buy the clothing), but they would love to see the interest in their culture. They are proud of it and confident in it and would be accepting to see such interest. As this is a generalization, I can also with utmost confidence make the generalization about the States that, from what I've seen there, mine is mine and yours is yours, let's not dabble in each other's business because then your my problem.

Although some elements of Hinduism and Indian culture are liberal, there is still some pull toward the traditional, especially in the older generations and in the rural north. This contrasts directly with trends of the younger generation and in cities, and can lead to major problems as a result. For example, arranged marriage and dowry to the male is traditional (dowry-wise, the family of an upper caste female pays on average the equivalent $2 to $2.5 MILLION American dollars to the husband); of course this arrangement may or may not (likely) be preferred by the younger generation. Those in this generation go through much conflict in general between pleasing their parents/honoring/respecting them and acknowledging what they'd prefer. Many parents see the benefit in providing for the children with food/education, some would prefer to even starve themselves if necessary for the children. As a result of this sacrifice, the children see the need to grant the parents' wishes; if that means marrying someone, it will likely be seriously considered. As a result of this conflict and others between the traditional and present, many suffer and don't know whether or not to please/disappoint themselves/parents; suicide is even a result. Anuj however estimated that maybe 30% of arranged marriage-bent parents would understand and accept a child's wish to pursue his or her own spouse in a situation where social progress has made some influence, such as a prior move to the city from a more rural area; the rest of the parents would positively disown their children for wanting such a thing, another cause of suffering and conflict. Sleeziness/low moral standards/adultery/serious premarital relationships are reserved for the Indian perceptions of the Westerners and Americans (additionally that we're all rich, hence targets for begging), crafted as a prevalent conception in India of the West based on Hollywood movies where such punishable behavior is often capitalized upon for the thrill of the audience.

There has been much recent development in Hyderabad. As opportunities in the city open, people flock there; Bangalore has had this happen and is now ridiculously overcrowded. Hyderabad is now the center of such growth with property values rapidly increasing as the potential of the area rises.

In the cities, class is more important; in the rural areas, caste is. Although one could argue that both class and caste are born into, class is more mobile and is based on wealth/education. Caste is recognized by one's surname. Marriage still follows inter-caste tendencies.

Bureaucratic rules/regulations and corruption is prevalent in the government and police, as we were noticing with this registration. Those six initial students were in there for over an hour; Prishanthi called Anuj from inside the station and told him to have the rest of us driven home, maybe we'd have more luck convincing them to register us later on. It is only because of a well-crafted report between the police and CIEE developed over time that we're even able to usually register in groups, although never all at once. That would be nearly unheard of; these registrations usually take days. I understood why Prishanthi flipped out when I had signed my name a line too low on my form; anything like that they find could be used as reason to refuse our registration, perpetuating and activating the power that the bureaucracy as come to demand.

Having to wait was no problem for me though. I, like the rest of the students on the bus, listened intently to Anuj as he disclosed all this information, activated by our questions. He was also eager to ask us about our perceptions of Indians, the prevalence of racism in the US, etc. I suppose my stay in India is meant to be all about such cultural exchanges, and it was worth flying all the way over here to engage in them.

I remember when flying into Hyderabad looking down at the roads and being nervous that the cars would crash into one another because of the side of the road they were on. I may or may not have seen a car with the driver on the right before, but the taxi ride to our place of residence for the next few weeks was certainly the first time I've ridden in one. That alone took some getting used to. I remember seeing cars go by with children in the front left side and thinking.....Why are they driving?! before realizing they were just a passenger. In the taxi was Mindi (from the University of Pittsburgh), Lindsay (a literature major), and Prishanthi, who had met me at the airport. Prishanthi got many laughs by watching me while we were driving. The driver accelerated and decelerated so quickly, but I guess everyone else outside looked like they were in a rush as well. I'd also catch myself flying my arms around trying to get something to hold onto as it appeared to me that we were going to ram every car we passed. Once we got deeper into the city, that's when the real driving began. They have lanes there, but the lines are not adhered to. People slip between bikes, bikes between motorcycles, motorcycles between auto-rickshaws, autos between cars, and cars between buses as tightly as they possibly could, honking all the while. I was awed by everything outside, the people bustling around, hanging out of automobiles, shops selling all kinds of produce, eclectic architecture, tangled electric lines that had loops all the way to the ground, metal and glass buildings with bamboo scaffolding around it, I had never seen anything like it. Sometimes I'd wave to people staring, sometimes they'd acknowledge me and smile, other times they'd continue to stare.

For the few weeks of orientation before enrolling at classes, we are staying at a resort called the Walden in a gated community on the outskirts of the city. The resort is amazing, housekept rooms, toilets and showers for every room, marble flooring, and even a pool. It literally feels like being on vacation here. Every meal there is a never-ending buffet of Indian cuisine...the men that work there like to scoop the food onto your plate for you (which I'm not used to), but all the better because the reasonable portions they serve would likely be digestively healthier for me than the massive heaps that I would likely be inclined to take.

I initially arrived at the resort at 10 in the morning or so, but the time felt most like late afternoon...jet lag not only can make you tired or awake, but really disorient you as well! 10 and a half hours is a pretty big deal, but the students from California and such have a full day reversal. That first day was a bunch of eating and meeting new people as they came in from the airport and as they woke up if they had already been there for some time (several students decided to come early to stay overnight in Mumbai or Delhi or Hyderabad). The people in the group are AWESOME. They all have so many stories and things to say, and it's so great being in the same boat as them, we'd all talk about what kind of things we were excited for or heard from previous students.

I don't recall being quite as tired as I was that afternoon...in my life. I hadn't slept but 3 or so hours the night before I left (Tuesday) and interruptedly on the flights...it was now Friday afternoon and I was dead. Realizing that I wouldn't be able to make it the whole day without passing out, I decided to do so on my comfortable bed for a short while, not even remembering falling asleep in the first place.

Before dinner, we traveled to Shilparamam, a market district. Although I had no rupees on me, they were eager to take American dollars, although having some trouble converting between the two currencies, as do all of us who aren't used to quickly multiplying and dividing by 40. I like to just think that 200 rupees is 5 dollars and go from there, adding in increments. I ended up buying some bookmarks made of this cotton-paper material with amazing designs and pictures on them painted with pastes made from grounded vegetables and flowers. I also got a huge blanket/wallhanging with beautiful blue/green/purple designs on it. The whole fare was about 30 dollars. Many of the girls got henna tattoos; having deep brown designs on their hands and arms that evening after the outer application had fallen off.

Many children we waiting for us as we stepped off of our motorcoach, eager for rupees. Many even had children who were younger in their arms. They'd hold their hand out and say *rupee* or *biscuit* or something of the sort and would tap at your legs and even kiss their hands and touch both of your feet. There was a policeman there with a bamboo pole that would lower the children's hands if they were being too bothersome. I wasn't as affected by it as I thought I was going to be, you just ignore them; they weren't even crying or anything, it's just what they were used to doing. Katvitha, the CIEE program assistant, talked to us about how they are frequently hired by agents to beg, and trained to beg, and their earnings are given back to the agents. It's a whole business that's not legitimate and you can never be sure what the actual motivation of the beggars is. As we drove away, the children would tap at the sides of our bus which made me feel almost like we were under attack, but I was most concerned that we didn't accidentally run over any of them.

After many conversations with the other students over dinner, I slept pretty well, although waking up at 5 am like everyone said I would. At 9 am we had a presentation at the resort by Dr. Reddy, who works at a nearby hospital and is available for contact from the campus. She discussed all of the medical things we need to be aware about, including digestive trouble, mosquitos and malaria, rehydration, water quality, etc. One student, Harrison, alarmed her after telling her that he had accidentally left his window open overnight and been eaten by dozens of mosquitoes before waking.

After, Dr. Vasudeva Rao, the resident director, gave us an introduction to the program/orientation and to culture in Hyderabad in general. He spoke a lot about a festival called ganesh that occurs sometime in August and honors an elephant god. He also spoke about *namaste*, the Hindi greeting/goodbye. There was evidently a lot to mention about it, and it was summed up in the end by him starting with his two hands touching at the palms at a 90 degree angle. Each hand was an axis, one symbolizing subjectivity/belief/opinion, the other empiricism/objectivity/science. He closed the angle, symbolizing the combination of the two, bringing his hands together in front of him, and this is namaste.

For lunch we traveled to the university, about 15 minutes from the resort, and ate lunch in the SIP (study in India program) guest house, in which many had opted to live for the semester. We walked/drove around the campus for the rest of the afternoon, being acquainted with it and the locations of the academic buildings. The campus couldn't be more different from Muhlenberg. First of all, it's something like 2,300 acres; there are roads and paths connecting the different buildings, everything spread out and obscured by forest. The buildings are all made out painted of cement and are open to the air. After a while we gave up trying to memorize where everything was, opting to rely on the map they gave us for navigation when we needed it.

That evening we went to a restaurant called Fusion 9 in the city. We all sat in sofas around low tables as waiters continued to replenish our supply of delicious appetizers and drinks. The environment was so conducive to talking, and talking I certainly did. Ty told me about her experience in Vietnam and we additionally talked about movies, music, and other things that interested us. I also talked a lot to Carolynne, an artist from California; Spencer, who had the same hiking shoes as me; Molly, who looks and laughs just like Bekki's mom; and Tori, a religion major. After chocolate cake, we were presented with a huge buffet that many of us hadn't even an appetite for after all the food so far! Tori and I continued are discussions of politics, religion, the placebo effect, idealism/realism, and India itself throughout the rest of dinner and all of the bus ride and walk back to the resort.

Travis had been ill coming to India (also, his luggage is still in Mumbai, but we will hopefully be getting it on the 13th or 14th), but my time had finally (I suppose inevitably) come the next morning. I'll spare the details, but I was left completely drained of energy by the time we were supposed to be downstairs. I couldn't be sure but I may also have had a slight fever and was a little achy. Not to worry though, it's all part of the experience; yes, mom and dad, I will tell someone if it gets worse. Pepto bismol seemed to help though. I was most concerned about missing out on the activities for the day, but fortunately I was able to muster some strength and go down to the conference room, bringing bottles to fill with water so I could rehydrate myself.

That morning (I had skipped breakfast, having no appetite to speak of) we were introduced to our peer tutors, there are about 4 students for each one. Mine is Avenish (sp?); he's almost done with his doctorate (at 28 years old) in Hindi literature and will be ready to teach as a professor at a university by next year. I'll be meeting with him 2-4 times a week with him to "clear doubts" (they use the word "doubt" to refer to questions or concerns) about the language maybe that I didn't pick up in classes. Kavitha gave each student 100 rs and we were, in our tutoring groups with our respective tutors as guides, to tackle the transportation system of Hyderabad.

We started out on a main street in Hyderabad, having walked from the resort. Of course we got many stares, but we did all day. Some would make faces at us; I couldn't quite tell for what reason. Sometimes I acknowledged the stares, sometimes that acknowledgment was replied, but it was better to just look ahead (as if I knew what I was doing) and contain my excitement by avoiding staring at anything that caught my attention (and closing my mouth, frequently opening in astonishment at various things). We started our trip in an auto-rickshaw. They are yellow, three wheeled usually, and have either 3 or 6 passenger seats (although of course we've seen many more crammed into them). 8 students (me included), 2 tutors, and the driver all crammed into a 7 seater. We then putted down the street in the heap of honking and people/autos. Autos are paid for usually after the ride; the driver may or may not use a meter, and, especially if he doesn't, will overcharge the passengers.

During the ride we were asking the tutors questions about the transportation system and such. Ben (across from me), who had spent the night in Mumbai before coming to Hyderabad, also was telling me about head nods...in Mumbai bobbling the head from side to side means "no," but in Hyderabad it is "yes." "No" as far as I could tell in Hyderabad was a regular shake of the head, and the accustomed "yes" nod that I'm used to is not used.

We were dropped off at a place where we were to catch a bus further into the city. There are three kinds of buses: original, medium, and...the other kind I forget, more expensive and comfortable. I think we took a medium one; I've never been so crammed. All the seats were full and we all stood in the aisles up against one another. I had forgotten my camera unfortunately, but such a sight is something of which I definitely want to get at least one picture, it was unreal. The bus jerked around the street, honking it's blaring horn like everyone else. I grasped the bar above my head as tight as I could. By the way the buses aren't made for people as tall as I am, I had to turn my head to one side to stand. Unfortunately I was still feeling ill to top it all off, and although I was not claustrophobic, I was nervous about the situation of needing to throw up with literally no place to go but the poor woman I was facing. I suppose it's no surprise that one of the students fainted during the ride, but with a little water and some space she was able to regain consciousness.

If there is both a front and a back entrance to a bus, the men are to board and exit at the back and the women at the front. This really struck my as odd because intuitively I would consider the front as privileged seating; considering the way I've heard women to be treated in India, that's where I would expect the men. Passengers pay a "conductor" for the trip who forces his way up and down the aisles, making a sound that's a cross between a shout and a hiss for attention.

We arrived at a shopping mall in a district called ebets (sp?) and browsed around for a while, boarding another bus after to take us to another area and then to koti (sp?), where there are many street venders. My whole time in the city is kindof a blur to me know, so much commotion and culture shock wrapped up in such a short period of time. I do remember clearly though someone about my age coming up to me with metal tweezers in his hand asking to "clean" and pointing to my ears. Trying not to laugh, I refused his insistent requests, wondering what exactly he'd do with metal tweezers to clean my ears. Anyway, it was a valuable experience to be acquainted with the system used in the city...I hope to be able to navigate it without a guide though in the future (yes, mom and dad, with other students as well).

While stopped at a juice stand that Avenish told us was clean and wouldn't make us sick, I got some pomegranate juice for 20 rs. Smoothies and such in New York cost at least 10 times that. I started a conversation with a white woman that I spotted, who was also eager to talk to us. She was from Australia and was doing physical therapy work in a nearby village. We talked a lot about accents, how she could tell immediately that we were American by the way we spoke, but that we didn't know for sure whether she was from England or Australia. To her that difference is clear, although she can't distinguish between Canadian and US accents like we can.

Anyway the bus ride home was at least half and hour through traffic and was about as crowded as the first bus. I had to stand most of the time but was grateful when a seat opened up, feeling a little nauseous in the heat and commotion still with my digestive issues. The body odor on the bus was also at times overwhelming, or at least much more prevalent than I'm used to. I of course kept getting stares, I'd maybe glance at someone starting and he'd look away. I could tell many were eager to talk to us though. Some even walked up to us and started conversations, asking us where we were staying or what we were doing in Hyderabad. Most know English, but the English they speak is frequently just as different as a foreign language when you factor in the accent. I'd usually have to ask them to repeat whatever was being said at least 3 times, blocking out the horns and other conversations etc. I loved to try to talk to them, and I knew they were curious about us. During any of these bus or auto trips, I'd just be looking around or at the floor thinking...*this is exactly what I wanted, just look at where you are* and I couldn't be happier. The three bus rides and auto trip cost 25 rs in total, or about 50 cents.

Back at the room I collapsed in my bed, having developed more exhaustion as the day went on, and just happy as a clam as I recalled my trip into the city but could finally rest.

!!!!!!!! Where to begin? I suppose I'll start with the trip here...Wednesday afternoon I caught a flight out from Pittsburgh to Newark which ran mostly on time. It was uneventful, but then again, I was still in the states :) I arrived at Newark not knowing that there were several concourses for flight check in, but eventually I figured it all out, transferred to concourse B, and checked my bags/got my tickets etc. While the man at the counter was pulling up my information, I took a glance at his desk and saw a seating layout of what looked like an airplane. But I had never seen an airplane like this. I had "seats" that looked like they were at a slant and diagonal to the aisle, I couldn't figure it out. My excitement for the flight doubled.

The TSA people treated those going through security very poorly. I don't know whether it was because I was at Newark, whether they were having a bad day, or whether they just didn't like foreigners, but they could've been much more pleasant. They expected people who didn't speak English to know exactly what they were saying and got noticeably upset if they didn't do what they wanted. I've seen that happen before at Pittsburgh too actually now that I think about it.

I expected the gate area to have tons of eateries and stuff, like the main area in Newark; maybe it was because I was in the international arrivals/departures, but there were only a few gates past the security check in and only one small food stand. But a huge store that sold alcohol spanning half the waiting area. Go figure. When I wasn't staring in awe at the huge planes outside (having for the first time seen a two story airplane) I read and built my anticipation even more for the flight. An hour or so before boarding, the flight attendants came on board...there were at least two dozen of them, and they were all in uniform; they were deep blue/black and yellow in color and made them look so proper and important...I couldn't wait.

Stepping onto the plane I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The seats were indeed diagonal, and each one had row access, they all had space to fully recline too. The floors appeared as wood too...the whole deal looked like the inside of a decked-out and multi-million yacht interior. Those seats were higher class, but even the economy section offered more than I expected (despite my expectations that had had ample time to build). It was in a 3-3-3 seating arrangement and the seats were a deep red color. Each seat had its own touch-screen system and remote and such and were really comfortable. Aromas of curry and spice lingered, and the ceiling faded in and out with different colors. The man sitting next to me noticed my astonishment and chuckled; I asked him what all the buttons did, along with what everything on the menu meant. Yes, we got a full menu for the flight, and we were allowed anything on it at no extra charge...try to find that on an American-run airline. Right after take off, the attendants came around with refreshing warm/moist towels (I love that) and mints. I couldn't tell you what I had for dinner, even if I knew how to pronounce it, but of course it was delicious. I love airplane food. I love Indian food. Put the two together. Not only was there an entree but also an appetizer, dessert, and after-tea. The entertainment system was astounding. There were hundreds of songs and movies offered, as well as the news (global/local), information about the airplane (including outside environmental conditions and a map showing exactly where the plane was on the globe), and games. The games included a program that literally taught you how to speak foreign languages (numbers/days of the week/important words and phrases etc.), and it was here that I probably spent most of my time, going through the Hindi program multiple times as well as German, Thai, and Mandarin (it looked like at least 30 or so languages were offered).

I also spoke a lot with the man sitting next to me. He lives in India but was visiting his wife and children who live in Landsdale by Philly; he lives with the rest of his extended family at home in India. He has an immigrant visa, which took him 6 years to get, and has to at least be in the United States every 12 months for it to be in effect, so he visits the US every year. He works as a gas-station pumper (people pump the gas like in New Jersey for you in India) and his wife is a medical technician. We also talked about the food, whether, traveling etc.

I was woken up with breakfast which included a crossoint, and I knew then that we were near Brussels! It was an amazing experience just to be in the Brussels airport. All the memories of my trip last year came back to me which was triggered by the way the people in the airport looked and acted, looking at the food and souvenirs offered, noticing that everything was astronomically expensive, and even going through a door. The doors there are thin, but very heavy and strong. They slam solidly when you close them, and have knobs that don't turn.

I needed to go through security again before waiting at the gate (Jet Airways was very picky about their security, there were even people with metal detectors inside the terminal that scanned you right before you got onto the plane). I walked around the airport some, recalling things from last year's trip, and when I got back onto the plane (same one), everything was cleaned and packaged like before, every seat having hygienically treated blankets and pillows, magazines and headphones put back into their bags and such. The food was at least as good if not better (I accompanied it this time with fine Belgian beer). The flight to Brussels was 6 hours, and the flight to Mumbai was 8, and I must have fallen asleep for a while because it didn't feel that long. It was midnight on Friday when we arrived there. Mumbai airport either didn't have terminal ramps like I was used to, or it was too crowded there because we stepped off the plane by walking down steps onto the airfield. Although the steps had a covering, the rain blew in from everywhere as I waited for the bus to pick me up. My customs paper was immediately soaked before I could get it underneath my shirt. It sure was monsoon season.

The airport looked like it was under major construction, we walked through dry walled corridors to get to customs and only one of the 4 or 5 luggage belts was working. I waited at least an hour for my bag (which I had to get and recheck to Hyderabad even though the representative at Newark said it would go through to Hyderabad, whatever the case was, Jet Airways reminded me about it with their signs that guided its passengers through the airport...yes, I can't speak highly enough about Jet Airways) but that was fine because I met someone about my age and we got to talk for a while. His name was Paul and he went to Carnegie Mellon for business. Although he had a job (doing something, I forget) he left it to travel for a while. He did not know what he was going to do in India, but this was someone who I'm certain would have no trouble filling his time. He had a hotel booked for the night, the extent of his plans, but was staying for three weeks before heading off to Thailand. We exchanged emails before he left for his next flight, and after I got my bag I headed through security again. I couldn't quite figure out what to do, but after the whole Mumbai experience I can say these things: I was supposed to push my way into line, I was supposed to actually take my luggage after it went through the scanner, I was to check my bag with Jet Airways after, I was to then to go to the domestic airport via bus and go to concourse 1B, I wasn't to check in at Jet Airways again at that time, I was to wait until my flight was called to go through security for my carry-ons, and lastly, I was to listen CAREFULLY for my flight (I learned that after needing to hurry through security, having only heard the second announcement for my flight).

Evidently I had initially arrived at the international airport (under renovation/construction like I mentioned), and the bus to take me to the domestic one was ill-lighted and and floor was unsturdy, but the domestic airport itself looked new, having recently opened after renovation. the floors and walls were clean marble, and even the bathrooms were walled with this beautiful blue marble; there weren't western toilets though, I had never seen the hole in the ground for the toilet before and was eager to try them. Waiting for my plane, I was so tired, but couldn't really fall asleep, so I talked to my Indian friend (from the airplane) some more who I had met up with again after arriving at the domestic airport. I also met another man from South Africa who worked as a representative for an energy company. He told me all about how where he lived (by Johannesburg?) there was a lot of racism (including white vs. black) and Indians weren't given the work opportunities that they should despite all the hard work they do. By 5 in the morning, the airport was already bustling with people. All of the "gates" were doors onto the airfield where buses would take people to their planes. I had never quite seen something like that before; on the bus, we zoomed around planes, trucks moving supplies, and other buses to get to the plane. There were lot of planes, and they seemed to be parked scattered about; how efficient it was I couldn't be certain (I even saw two commercial jets that were nearly touching and perpendicular to each other). It also seemed that how big you were governed your rights on the airway (whether or not you needed to get out of the way), planes had priority over trucks, trucks over buses, buses over luggage movers, and those over individual people.

Of course the Jet Airways flight was amazing, serving tea and a delicious breakfast (despite the short 44 minute duration of the flight), although there was no individual entertainment system :) The ground from the airplane looked kind of barren, with towns scattered about and green squares that were probably farms. The Hyderabad airport that we flew into is new (opened in March) and far from the city. There was a terminal walkway this time. Right after getting my luggage (ecstatic that it wasn't lost or anything) I spotted the CIEE representative waiting for me. Another student, Tes was already there too and we talked while others arrived. She has been to Senegal and France and all around...it seems like many of the 20 or so people in the group are well-traveled and cultured, and it probably takes a certain someone like that to decide to come here in the first place. As students trickled in, we all talked about flights and such (none of which seemed to go as smoothly or were as fun as my own; additionally, I asked about prices and no one said they paid less than I did for my ticket! Jet Airways is like a gem that no one knows about I guess, only one other student flew it, and she was as excited about it was I was). Travis, my now-roommate, unfortunately left his bags in Mumbai and the airline was demanding he return to claim them. It was unclear whether or not we could convince them to send the luggage without his presence, but it wasn't really his fault because, like in my case, the bags were "checked" through to Hyderabad, but you needed to get them in Mumbai, probably because that was your port of entry. His airline didn't remind him of that like Jet Airways did for me.