So today I signed onto Bear Facts to check when my registration is for Cal classes, thinking that it might be in the upcoming weeks . . . it started yesterday! Ahhh!
So now I need to figure out what classes I want, what classes are available, AND register within the next couple hours. Thank goodness my timing is ahead, or else I would have missed it.
Problem: I don’t have internet. So now I’m in line at the computer lounge with the other kids waiting to get free internet so we can register for classes. So I figured, since I have my computer and I’m just killing time, this might be a pretty good time to work on my blog.
So here it goes. Because I’m a dummy and didn’t write all along the way, this is probably going to be a pretty long entry.
India.
DAY ONE: Upon getting into India, Bryan, Allie, Anna, and I headed out to find some food. Bryan and Allie had to be back soon for a SAS trip, so we were slightly crunched for time. One goal: food. Simple enough, right?
Wrong.
After walking through the industrial port, we came out to a throng of rickshaw drivers. Luckily for us, there was someone that spoke English that ushered us into the rickshaw of a supposedly good and honest driver. Rickshaws are not like any other vehicle I’ve ever seen or ridden in. You know those orange plastic cars with the yellow roofs that you play in as a kid? (Or at least if you’re in my generation, you played in them.) The kind that you use your feet to pull you along when you’re little and you get stuck in when you’re bigger but still convinced that you can fit? Ya, they look like those. Except a slightly larger version. Three wheels, no doors, bright orange, and made for a driver and two other people . . . but you can fit a lot more. The four of us piled into one of these and we were off.
Now let me describe Indian traffic. I have to describe it in terms of video games because I don’t know of anything else that really compares. Think Mario Cart + Crazy Taxi + HORNS. Lots and lots of horns. So we go ripping down the street in this tiny little rickshaw until the driver pulls over. He walks around to the back of the three wheeled golf cart, pulls out a India Tour Book, and proceeds to show us all the places where he can bring us for only a little bit more money. It took awhile for us to convince him that we just wanted food; we didn’t want to go his friends’ stores, we didn’t want to go to temples, we just wanted food.
So we eventually get dropped off in Georgetown Market, which was our original goal. But we don’t see any food. We barely see signs of a market. Somehow I become our group’s designated ask-for-directions person, and after wandering for a bit (following lots of points, having people write stuff down, showing other people what someone else wrote down, being confused by their head bobbling – what the heck does that mean?!?! – and walking up and down a street looking for the street we were on) we made it to somewhere with food. And it’s not even that we were looking for a particular food place. We just wanted somewhere, anywhere, with food.
So we got to this restaurant that looks promising, but when we go for a table we are immediately shuffled upstairs. And then into a side room. We figured they were just trying to shove the foreigners away or something. . . Anyways, we have absolutely no idea what to order and the menu is no help. I don’t recognize anything on it – and I love Indian food! We try to communicate that we just want anything. The waiter (owner?) asks us a question and we try to answer. Then he just shakes his head and walks away.
We sit patiently, hoping that food will magically appear, and somehow it does! Hurray! The food is wonderful, and I love eating with my hands, so that makes it even better. I expected to it be super spicy, but it totally wasn’t. Granted, they probably dulled it down for us, but it was still surprisingly doable.
From there Bryan and Anna departed by rickshaw for their SAS trip, and Anna and I were left to conquer India. I had heard of some good shopping place. . . somewhere with a T. That’s all I knew. So we jumped in a rickshaw and tried to communicate: shopping, something with a T. It was a long shot, but that’s all we had and we didn’t really care where we ended up anyways. The driver at first seemed clueless, but then seemed like he had an idea of what was going on. And after we stopped for gas and directions, he was almost confident. So we rode in the rickshaw. . . and we rode. . . and we rode. After a 15ish minute rickshaw ride, he lets us off and we explore, and within minutes we find the store my teach had mentioned! We were in the right place! But that was the expensive store she had mentioned. . . there was a cheap one somewhere. Something with an “N” in it, so we continue wandering. And we find it! Hurray.
We wanted to buy some Indian clothing, so we wander into store after store – but they all only sell fabric! We can’t find any premade clothes! You either have to get them tailored or make them yourselves. Granted, there are some places with already made clothes, but for the most part, it’s all fabric.
Eventually we wander into a store that seems promising. We follow signs down to the basement, and they send us back upstairs, and they send us upstairs, and they send us upstairs, and again, and again. We end up way up on the 6th floor or something of this store and FINALLY we find clothes. Yay! So after shopping for a bit, we are ready to make our purchases.
Easier said than done.
Some took our clothes and we were ushered over to a place where they added up the prices. Then we were given a piece of paper we had to walk (a couple feet) to get stapled and stamped with something. Then we went to someone else (again, a couple feet away) to pay. He stamped the receipt again and ripped off the piece just stapled to it. Then we went somewhere ELSE to pick up our clothes, and we had to give them the stamped receipt to show we had paid (event though it all happened within view) and they stapled something else and stamped again. Wow. Finally, receipts and purchases in hand, we descended back to ground floor and headed out again.
We spend the rest of the day looking and shopping. Not a lot of purchasing, though. Eventually we headed home, which in and of itself was an ordeal. But we made it!
I got back JUST in time to jump on the bus to go to the Welcome Reception. The reception was held by a local college and there was dancing, food, henna, and local students. I met some really cool people, learned how to tie a sari, and had a lot of fun!!
(I’m up on the computers! Going to go figure out my life. Be back later. . . hopefully.)
(Okay, I’m not in our logistical pre-port. Turns out the time difference makes it really, really hard for me to register for my classes. Frustrating. I don’t know how that’s going to work out. . . Thank goodness that I know God is taking care of me – that gives me peace. Or at least more peace then I would have if I didn’t know God.)
Okay. . . I could spend more time on the Welcome Reception, but for the sake of time I’m just going to move on.
DAY TWO: I woke up and boarded the bus to go to the 100th Voyage Celebration: Youth Leadership Through Global Education & Travel. It was amazing! There were probably about ten performances of young teenagers, and each performance was better than the one before. And that’s even with the first one being really, really good! Seriously, I was blown away! Traditional, Bollywood-ish, singing, different traditional, and so many more! Those kids were awesome! And so talented! I comforted myself and my inability by saying that it was part of their “culture” and THAT’S why they were so good. . . but then they did their rendition “Western” dance. It was better than anything I could ever hope to do and a lot of the performances I have seen in the states. How embarrassing.
But it gets worse.
After these AMAZING performances, the announcer says, “Now we will have a performance from our American students.” There’s a murmur through the crowd as we all turn to each other saying “Who’s performing? Are we supposed to do something? What’s going on?” Then it became clear – we had nothing planned, and we were supposed to.
Frick.
Let me set the scene: We’re in a huge auditorium full of over a hundred of Chennai’s most important people. We’ve just seen a crew of amazing kids perform. We’re sitting there in the front couple rows having no idea what to do.
And then Terrance stands up. I won’t go into detail, but let me just tell you that Terrance is EXACTLY the type of person you want to stand up in this situation. (Small world, he’s actually friends with my cousin Brendan.)
So he stands up and goes slowly up on stage. He has no idea what he’s going to do, but we trust him. He disappears back stage and then comes out. Cupid Shuffle turns on.
Someone doing the Cupid Shuffle by themselves is like trying to do a sea-saw by yourself. Kind of pathetic.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I run up on stage.
And we dance.
Then more people join, and eventually there’s maybe 20 of us up there on stage all doing the Cupid Shuffle (oh, for those of you who don’t know, the Cupid Shuffle is kind of like a line dance that everyone in my generation knows. . . uhhh, except it’s cool).
Oh, that was picture in the paper #1: Me dancing on stage.
From there, I had to leave a little early to go back to the ship so I could make it onto my Child Labor visit. But on my way out, I was pulled into a picture with the dancers.
Picture in the paper #2: Me with the dancers.
Then when I got back to the boat, I was walking from the bus to the ship and got pulled into an interview by a tv news crew. They asked me about my experiences on the boat, how it compared to my home institution, what I thought of India so far, and other questions.
So that was tv appearance #1.
For the Child Labor visit we drove out to an organization called RIDE, which stands for Rural Institute for Developing Education. This organization is REALLY cool. It’s a bridge educational program for kids who were child laborers or still are child laborers to make the transfer into school easier.
That afternoon we went to the school, and there were a LOT of kids. What’s absolutely crazy is that these kids are still child laborers. If they weren’t there at the school, they would be working in the quarries. Usually there are only about 5-7 kids, but there were 19 kids this time, all there because we were there.
Let me tell you a bit about what these kids would normally be doing. They’re earth movers. In the quarries, people blow up earth and then these kids go in and pick up and move any rocks big enough to grab and carry, leaving behind the gravel. They then pile up the rocks they carried, blow it up, and do it all over again. And again. And again. Until all that’s left is gravel. They do this in the morning until the rocks get too hot to touch and then again in the evening.
These kids are tiny. I’d say the average age is 6, but it’s hard to estimate by looks because a 14 year old girl didn’t look older than 10 due to malnutrition and undernourishment. But they were really, really young.
Another sad part is that the very, very little money that they make doesn’t even help their family. The priorities are so skewed that most of families’ income goes to alcohol or celebrations. That’s why the education is so important, so they can see the error of their ways.
Anyways, these kids put on performances for us, and they were amazing! True, the performances weren’t that well choreographed. . . or even that well executed, but they were SO CUTE!!!! Seriously. They were wearing clothes that didn’t fit and were dirty and ripped, but it didn’t matter. These kids were happy and bubbly and had so much heart. I never expected that from child laborers. I think that I expected sunken, hollow eyes.
(I’m in my room now. Pre-port finished, then I went and watched a movie for terrorism, then I signed up for Berkeley classes. Or should I say got on wait lists for classes that I might want to take but didn’t really have time to think about or research because I’m on a boat with no internet. Anyways, now it’s midnight and I’m on my bed. My roommate is asleep, and I’m jealous. Dreamland calls, but I need to get through at least a little more India before going to sleep. At least another day or two. I have to finish before Vietnam, for your sake and for mine. So back to the kids. . . )
We ended up playing with the kids outside. I don’t know where they came from, but suddenly there were balls flying everywhere! The types of balls you find in a play pen at McDonalds, mostly, but also partially deflated volley balls and soccer balls, something I think might have been a cricket ball, and anything else spherical. Flying balls and floating laughter filled the air. It was SO MUCH FUN. We would just play variations of catch in the yard. Nothing was organized. Nothing. It was absolute chaos, but it was so. . . joyful. Both on their part and ours. I just can’t get over how much I enjoyed it! Plus, I was pretty impressed with my ball throwing and catching skills. =-)
Then we went back the RIDE, the NGO that was hosting us. There we had dinner (so good!), had a Q&A session with the founder, and then went to sleep. The room I was staying in I shared with three other SAS girls and one girl volunteering for RIDE. She had been there for a couple months and was leaving soon. Hearing her experiences was inspiring. She’s traveled the world teaching English or working for NGOs, and she’s only in her 20s! I’d write more, but Kellie just shifted in her sleep, reminding me of how much I want to join her in dreamland. So for now, I’ll keep it to my own experiences.
DAY THREE: Woke up at RIDE, had an incredible Indian breakfast, and then headed out. We ended up visiting two temples. The first was built out of sandstone a really, really long time ago. I forget exactly how long. I want to say at least 1,000 years. . . . but that’s an awfully long time. There were statues of gods and lions and other figures. And I saw a parrot! Really old structures like that really get my mind going. I love walking around them. Think of everything that ever could have happened there. 1,000 years ago someone was walking where I walked. Imagine what they were wearing, what was going on in the world, what they might have been thinking. And even before that, someone so long ago had to build it. Someone had to design it. I love how being somewhere old links you to the history because you somehow become a part of it. Not totally, obviously, but I like to feel like I’m one link in an ever-growing chain of history.
Then we went to another temple that was VERY different. I don’t know if you can even call it a temple. It was definitely a religious area, but instead of a building there were large, brightly painted statues of the gods. Now when I say “large,” what do you think of? Nope. Not big enough. Think of something bigger. Nope, even bigger than that.
I came up to about the knee of the statues.
They were really big.
From there we briefly went to a village. There were lots of people there to welcome us, and they performed a religious ceremony. We were then invited to the home of the president of the village, and he fed us and gave us some chai tea. I love the tea! And the food! The family performed a welcoming ceremony that, by the end of my time in India, I became quite familiar with. A woman had a bowl of red saffron water with a floating leaf in it. On the leaf is what looks like a marshmallow. She lights the marshmallow on fire, scoops up the leaf, puts it on the ground, and pours the red water around it. I don’t know what the significance of it is, but I know that it is some sort of welcoming practice.
So the president welcomed us, and shortly after we left. From there we went to a woman’s house. The woman had used micro lending to start up her own pottery business. . . except there was a man actually doing the pottery, so I don’t really know how that worked out. I didn’t catch the full story. But it was cool to see him make the pots!!
Then they asked if anybody wanted to try. I really wanted to, but I hung back in case somebody else wanted to volunteer. Nobody did, so I went for it. It was so cool! I love getting dirty/messy. My feeling on life is if you’re not getting dirty, bruised, or broken, you’re missing something. (All the while being safe, of course.). At least that’s how it is for my stage of life.
Anyways, I got to “help” make a pot – I don’t think I was much help. Oh! And they had these cool jars like piggy banks in that you put money in but you can’t get money out. I bought one, and I think it’s going to be my travel fund. If I start putting money in now, hopefully breaking it when I graduate from college yield a nice gift for myself.
Oh, me making the pot turned into 2 front page pictures, which is fun. . . but kind of ridiculous. There really wasn’t anything more important going on other than some foreign kid making a pot?
Back to RIDE for lunch then onto a child labor free silk store. I got to see how saris are made, which was really cool! Incredibly intricate and complex. . . although I don’t know what I was expecting. But I was really blown away with how much goes into it.
Then back to the ship. From there I met up with people from the Welcome Reception on the first day, went out to dinner & coffee, and got to see a bit more of India. Yay!!
DAY FOUR: Woke up early to head out to the Dalit Village. Dalit, formally called “untouchables,” are the lowest rung on the Indian caste system. No, that’s not accurate; they’re not even ON the caste system. The caste system is divided up like a body, giving some people the part of head, shoulders, legs, etc. The Dalit, however, are not even part of the body. They’re completely set apart.
Before going to the village, we went to a nursing school. We were again welcomed with lots of dance performances (beginning to see a pattern?) and coconuts with straws in them. Yum. After being welcomed, we participated in a Q&A session with the founder of the school. He’s a really impressive man. He is Dalit and has worked in the UN and now spends his time on the school and fighting for Dalit rights. Really, really impressive. After that – lunch! From there we went into the nursery where we got to play with little kids for a bit. Not nearly as crazy as the Child Labor kids, but still super cute!
Then we were called out to the makeshift volley ball court to play a game of “Throw Ball” with the nursing students.
Let me set the scene for you: On one side of the net are a group of Indian girls in their late teens and early twenties. They are dressed beautifully in saris and fine clothing. Their hair is nicely done. They’re wearing sandals. They look simply beautiful. On the other side . . . is u. We’re in our dirtiest clothes, super sweaty, lots of competitive boys, jeans, t-shirts, tennis shoes, bandanas. We look like the cast of Survivor. The game is simple. It’s like volley ball, except you catch the ball and then throw it back instead of volleying it back and forth.
Recap:
Them: beautifully dressed girls.
Us: sweaty, tough coeds.
The game: basic.
They kicked our butt. We didn’t win a single game. The boys were humiliated.
I thought it was hilarious.
(Okay, as much as I want to continue writing, I feel like the next part can’t be done “half way” like what I’ve written so far. So I’ll save it for tomorrow. Ugh, I don’t like things piling up, but I also very much value my sleep, and it’s past my bedtime. I’ll write more tomorrow. Don’t worry, we’re nearing the end.)
(It’s tomorrow for me, but you’re still in yesterday. I’m going up Mekong Delta in Vietnam. So cool! Now back to the story. . .)
After leaving the nursing school where we totally got our butts kicked by a bunch of pretty girls in saris, we headed off to a village where we were going to stay the night.
Problem was when we got there, it was already dark. And the power wasn’t working in the village.
I have never been part of something so crazy in my whole life as what happened that night. And that included the night Obama got elected and people filled the streets of Berkeley.
We get out of the vans and are immediately surrounded by people. There’s a lit stage in the distance, so we think that’s where we’re going. Wrong. We are immediately swept up in a current of people and become the head of a parade through the entire village. This is not your ordinary parade: The twenty or so of us are lead by a guy with a giant torch as hundreds follow behind. Practically running. We are constantly told to hurry up and that we should be running, although, save the dry, thatched homes illuminated by the flaming ball of fire that leads us, we can’t see anything. Kids surround us saying, “Hello. What is your name?” in pretty good English, although it’s quickly apparent that this is the only English they know. About every minute of so a woman comes out to bless and welcome us with the saffron water and flaming marshmallow leaf. So then that means in addition to hurrying though the “roads” of the very dry village that I’m scared the torch is going to accidently burn down, trying to talk to kids that don’t speak English, and stopping abruptly to be periodically blessed and welcomed, we are now having to dodge flaming leaves on the ground. Not an easy feat when there are so many people that you can’t see what’s going on.
But we made it.
Eventually we made it all the way around the village and back to the stage. We sat in chairs and at least 200 other people surrounded us to watch the show. We were welcomed with coconuts, a creepy circus-y performance, martial arts & fire manipulation demonstration, and (you guessed it!) dancing. Both he circus-y people and the martial arts guys did this thing with small hula hoops where they made a basket and then put a baby in it. . . I don’t quite get it. It was all very strange.
Then we were ushered to where we would be sleeping for the night: A large, hot room with a concrete floor and nothing else.
Before leaving for my trip, I asked Kerry (my big brother) if he had any travel tips. He said bring a towel; it’s multifunctional and a lot smaller than carrying a blanket, pillow, etc. I’m glad I headed his advice. Everyone else had either been carrying a sleeping bag around all day or had nothing, forcing them to share a sleeping bag with someone else. I was perfectly happy laying out my towel and sleeping on top of it. It was too hot for a blanket, and I was perfectly happy in my jeans and t-shirt.
I slept really, really good.
The next morning we woke up early, had breakfast, and left. We arrived back at the ship late that morning, and I spent the rest of the time in the city before departing that evening.
So those are my experiences. I would cut them short, but there are a couple more things that I want to add:
1) Everything you’ve ever heard about cows in India is true. They’re EVERYWHERE, and they have complete free range. If there’s a cow in the road, the crazy Indian traffic stops for the cow. If a cow wanders into a store, nobody will push the cow out. If a cow sits on you. . . actually, I don’t know what happens if a cow sits on you. But I’m pretty darn sure you wouldn’t be able to just push it off.
2) India is a country of contrasts. Looking at the infrastructure and surroundings, the country seems dirty and underdeveloped. Then you look at the women. These women are always dressed beautifully in brightly colored saris or similar Indian clothing. Not a spot on them. The look better sweeping the streets or playing Throw Ball than I did for my prom. It’s not the same with the men. The men fit in more with the surroundings, but the women just blow me away.
3) In southern India the speak Tamil, not Hindu.
4) I have never been so openly stared at as I was in India. In other countries people would look, but often they would try and be discrete about it. Not here. Here they would stop dead and stare as I walked by. When I was on the rickshaws, I would get complete double takes like the kinds in the movies. I don’t think Chennai gets a lot of white visitors.
5) They do this weird figure eight thing with their heads. Luckily, I’ve mastered it’s meaning. Simplified, this is what it means: “I acknowledge that you’re talking, but I’m not going to let you know whether or not I actually understand or agree. Instead I’m just going to wobble my head like a bobble head on the dashboard of a crazy rickshaw driver and let you guess. It’s a secret code that we all pretend to understand, but really NOBODY knows what’s going on. Haha, you think you will be able to decode our secret movements, but you can’t. As long as I keep my head moving, I won’t have to otherwise indicate that I have no idea what you mean, and eventually you’ll stop talking and I can just take you wherever I want, bring you whatever I want, or sell you whatever I want without any influence from what I have just acknowledged you saying. Plus it’s a nice neck exercise. Really, you should try it sometime.”
6) Everywhere we went, we were welcomed with garlands of flowers. Mostly jasmine, I think.
Okay, well for the most part that’s all I can think of for India. I’m so excited to show you pictures and tell you stories in real life so I can act them out.
I’m going to write about Halloween now. I want to be all caught up before we dock.
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