We have yet to write about three of the most important days we've had here so far.
1) When we went on a tour of the Dharavi slums (the largest slums in Asia) in Mumbai with Reality Tours
2)When we went with Anupam and his NGO, REACHA, to teach Mumbai kids about energy conservation
3) And, for me, yesterday-- when I went with Yatna to to meet the Lambada tribe outside Hyderabad. We'll be filming a documentary about them and the unfair medical practices being pushed upon them. Their language has no written form (though some also speak Telugu) and they have been nomadic for hundreds of years, so they are at a serious disadvantage when it comes to education and healthcare. (I'll go into it more in another post)
Its hard to right about this ultra-important events because I want the post to be an all-encompassing article for each. We will probably end up back-tracking to post our narratives and photos of these days (with the exception of Dhavari-- no photography allowed, which I think is good). For now, I can say that a common thread was my surprise at how kind and open the locals were to our prescence, and how much I learned by seeing their lives and interacting, even with huge language barriers.
For now, it is Sunday morning and we need to go meet Old Hyderabad, its markets and architecture!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Told you we'd find a place to live...
We've got a flat!
It's pretty fancy-schmancy, especially compared to what we get in Brooklyn for a much higher price. I can't get over the size of the place. They're 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, and we're only sharing with a British couple, Emily and Andre (though in the past, there were as many as 8 or 9 people here). Andre has been here 2 years, and Emily since November, so we've got great tips from them. Also, I am pretty sure that between my roommates and the affected Indian English, I will have a Brit accent by the time I return to the States.
Its in the upscale neighborhood of Banjara Hills and on the high end of our budget (though, our budget was pretty low), but its furnished, ok for a temporary stay, and gorgeous. It's been traded around among the small scene of NGO workers around here for some years, and like many apartments that go through cycles of friends, full of charming (and not so charming) remnants of past dwellers-- from colorful decorations to a plastic bucket supporting the bed.
Everything that wants to look fancy in Indian is made out of white and grey marble, so, most of out apartment is marble. I love the sound my sandals make as I shuffle up the 5 flights of smooth stone.
Also, regarding Bartley's post just below:
I still wake up every morning when the call to prayer begins, in that lovely pre-dawn pale blue light. Our first night in Hyderabad, as we slept on a rush mat and blankets in Manish and Saurabh's living room, I was startled out of my sleep just before 6am as the call began. I was pretty sure I knew what it was, but even so I was utterly overwhelmed by the sound. I remember thinking to myself it sounded like either the gates of hell, heaven, or both had just opened up. It is beautiful and chilling. I had goosebumps as I sat bolt upright on the mat and listened.
During the rest of the day, you hear a similar call (5 times), but only at dawn is it as ethereal and arresting. A day or two later, I recorded it as a sound memo on my camera as I held it out the window at arm's length, but, of course, no recording can really do it justice. Plus, I'm too technically incompetent to know how to retrieve the memo from my camera to post it (it didn't show up with the photo upon download...).
It's pretty fancy-schmancy, especially compared to what we get in Brooklyn for a much higher price. I can't get over the size of the place. They're 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, and we're only sharing with a British couple, Emily and Andre (though in the past, there were as many as 8 or 9 people here). Andre has been here 2 years, and Emily since November, so we've got great tips from them. Also, I am pretty sure that between my roommates and the affected Indian English, I will have a Brit accent by the time I return to the States.
Its in the upscale neighborhood of Banjara Hills and on the high end of our budget (though, our budget was pretty low), but its furnished, ok for a temporary stay, and gorgeous. It's been traded around among the small scene of NGO workers around here for some years, and like many apartments that go through cycles of friends, full of charming (and not so charming) remnants of past dwellers-- from colorful decorations to a plastic bucket supporting the bed.
Everything that wants to look fancy in Indian is made out of white and grey marble, so, most of out apartment is marble. I love the sound my sandals make as I shuffle up the 5 flights of smooth stone.
Also, regarding Bartley's post just below:
I still wake up every morning when the call to prayer begins, in that lovely pre-dawn pale blue light. Our first night in Hyderabad, as we slept on a rush mat and blankets in Manish and Saurabh's living room, I was startled out of my sleep just before 6am as the call began. I was pretty sure I knew what it was, but even so I was utterly overwhelmed by the sound. I remember thinking to myself it sounded like either the gates of hell, heaven, or both had just opened up. It is beautiful and chilling. I had goosebumps as I sat bolt upright on the mat and listened.
During the rest of the day, you hear a similar call (5 times), but only at dawn is it as ethereal and arresting. A day or two later, I recorded it as a sound memo on my camera as I held it out the window at arm's length, but, of course, no recording can really do it justice. Plus, I'm too technically incompetent to know how to retrieve the memo from my camera to post it (it didn't show up with the photo upon download...).
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Morning Wake Up Call
With a population of nearly 4 million, Hyderabad is home to one of the largest urban Muslim populations in India. For centuries Hyderabad has been a major seat of Islamic culture, and at its peak, during the reign of the Nizams from the early 18th century until Independence, was the wealthiest and largest of the princely states of India. A symbol of this legacy is the Mecca Masjid mosque, which was built in the 17th century under the reign of the 6th Sultan of Hyderabad. With space for 10,000 worshippers, it is easily the largest mosque in the city.
Each morning during our stay in the city, we have been rustled from our slumbers by the call to prayer, which this morning came around 5:50 AM IST. The sound is unlike anything I have heard. It sounds like a chorus of humpback whales performing their songs, as interpreted by Animal Collective. It is really something else.
Each morning during our stay in the city, we have been rustled from our slumbers by the call to prayer, which this morning came around 5:50 AM IST. The sound is unlike anything I have heard. It sounds like a chorus of humpback whales performing their songs, as interpreted by Animal Collective. It is really something else.
How do you get around?
The reassuring thing about traveling in a new city is that you can always check your handy map by the street signs. And, with the likes of GoogleEarth and their succinct directions, how could you ever get lost?
Uh, well, what if there are no street signs, winding, congested roads, and cabbies who don't speak English or understand your Hindi and are possibly illiterate? (like the cabbie in Mumbai who couldn't understand us and wouldn't look when we pointed at a map-- and eventually had to drop us a bit far from our destination at Mumbai Central train station, as this seemed to be all he could understand)
Oh, then you must be in India. So, like any other process here, it will be a little slower (like molasses), a little more foggy (like pea soup) and definitely scrambled (like a heap of eggs). Scrambled pea molasses soup? ewwww.
For the most part, we hail a taxi or an auto-rickshaw, which is a cool 3-wheeler that looks more like a carnival ride than a reliable means of transport. Here is the process: first, you hail a driver and them where you're going. If you're a tourist, the price is automatically inflated by 500%, and sometimes you have to walk away from a few before you can find one who will agree to charge something reasonable or use the meter. Then they navigate the city streets as if they are on speed, blind, deaf and unable to brake. Actually, I am pretty sure that when they want to brake, they just hit the gas instead. Eh, its a pedal, what's the diff? (in spite of this, I have so far seen zero accidents. They are actually incredibly skilled!)
So let's say that somehow, through the grace of Ganesh, you get to your desired location. Now you have to pay. If they actually used the meter as promised: in Mumbai, the number on the meter has nothing to do with what you pay. They state the price, and if you're a native you know if that is good or not, and if you're not you say "book!" until they roll their eyes (or wobble their head) and take out the laminated chart that indicates how to translate the meter into the rupees you pay. In Hyderabad, if the meter starts on 10.00 when you get in, you ask for the chart. if it started on 12, you pay what it says. But make sure the meter isn't, uh, rolling a little too fast, as some are known to do.
This morning I needed to go just a few kilometers in the auto. I asked the driver how much and he stated, "50 rupees". This, I knew, was outrageous, and indicated thusly. He smiled sheepishly, did the Indian head bobble and said, "ok ok, just checking". This is a typical reaction-- one guy laughed good naturedly after Bartley and I refused to pay him an extra Rs 10 he demanded for no reason. Bargaining is all in good fun, and they are amused that I won't be, um, taken for a ride.
Uh, well, what if there are no street signs, winding, congested roads, and cabbies who don't speak English or understand your Hindi and are possibly illiterate? (like the cabbie in Mumbai who couldn't understand us and wouldn't look when we pointed at a map-- and eventually had to drop us a bit far from our destination at Mumbai Central train station, as this seemed to be all he could understand)
Oh, then you must be in India. So, like any other process here, it will be a little slower (like molasses), a little more foggy (like pea soup) and definitely scrambled (like a heap of eggs). Scrambled pea molasses soup? ewwww.
For the most part, we hail a taxi or an auto-rickshaw, which is a cool 3-wheeler that looks more like a carnival ride than a reliable means of transport. Here is the process: first, you hail a driver and them where you're going. If you're a tourist, the price is automatically inflated by 500%, and sometimes you have to walk away from a few before you can find one who will agree to charge something reasonable or use the meter. Then they navigate the city streets as if they are on speed, blind, deaf and unable to brake. Actually, I am pretty sure that when they want to brake, they just hit the gas instead. Eh, its a pedal, what's the diff? (in spite of this, I have so far seen zero accidents. They are actually incredibly skilled!)
So let's say that somehow, through the grace of Ganesh, you get to your desired location. Now you have to pay. If they actually used the meter as promised: in Mumbai, the number on the meter has nothing to do with what you pay. They state the price, and if you're a native you know if that is good or not, and if you're not you say "book!" until they roll their eyes (or wobble their head) and take out the laminated chart that indicates how to translate the meter into the rupees you pay. In Hyderabad, if the meter starts on 10.00 when you get in, you ask for the chart. if it started on 12, you pay what it says. But make sure the meter isn't, uh, rolling a little too fast, as some are known to do.
This morning I needed to go just a few kilometers in the auto. I asked the driver how much and he stated, "50 rupees". This, I knew, was outrageous, and indicated thusly. He smiled sheepishly, did the Indian head bobble and said, "ok ok, just checking". This is a typical reaction-- one guy laughed good naturedly after Bartley and I refused to pay him an extra Rs 10 he demanded for no reason. Bargaining is all in good fun, and they are amused that I won't be, um, taken for a ride.
Hyderabad Blues
Our first day in the city was Republic Day , January 26th, the date that India celebrates the adoption of the Constitution of India. We spent the morning watching the Delhi parade on television. I am not keen on parades myself, but the parade was stunning to watch. One of the highlights was watching the president of India, Pratibha Devisingh Patil, hold a salute to the Indian armed forces for nearly fifteen minutes as they paraded by. How did she manage to keep her arm elevated for so long without so much as twitching a muscle? Puppet string? A prosthetic limb? Point is, inhuman strength!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Learning to say no
Yesterday an event transpired which encapsulates much of what I have learned thus far in my brief time in India. We were walking along the water's edge near the Taj Mahal hotel when a man approached me with great vigor. He proceeded to grab me by the ear, stick a metal pick in my ear canal, and extract its (shamefully plentiful) contents. "I am expert," he said, and showed me his card, which attested to his 25 years' experience in ear canal health. Before I could say a word, the pick was back in, with my ear lobe again pressed between his fingers. "Please, no thanks," I said, as I tried to pull away, which only increased the tension on my ear. "NO," I said and pulled away again, to further protest from this man, until finally, "NO!!". I pulled away, and out popped my ear as I took Rachel quickly away. From behind, I could hear (better now from my right ear, I'll admit) the gentlemen say "you pay 60 rupees now."
What is so illustrative about this event? In Mumbai at least, the traveller is accosted on all sides by people trying to sell them something, or to get something from them. Taxi drivers, pitiful beggars barefoot and rag covered, shopkeepers, restaurant owners, all are vying for your money. This is particularly bad in tourist areas, where the aforementioned incident took place. Once a potential suitor has been engaged with eye or verbal contact, a casual "no thanks" will not suffice for peace, nor will a forceful "NO"; it takes a determined "NO!" (or "naheen naheen" if using Hindi) and a brisk head-downturned walk away to be left in peace. The art of saying "NO" is one which I have not mastered yet, but it is an art that I am improving with each passing day.
What is unfortunate about this state of affairs is that one learns to be guarded when approached by strangers, on the assumption that they want money. We have had many pleasant interactions with strangers who wanted nothing more than to offer helpful advice, or to hear about our lives back in New York, or what we thought about OBAMA. But when we approach the encounter prepared to say "NO," it leaves a bad taste in the mouth to never have to say the word at all.
What is so illustrative about this event? In Mumbai at least, the traveller is accosted on all sides by people trying to sell them something, or to get something from them. Taxi drivers, pitiful beggars barefoot and rag covered, shopkeepers, restaurant owners, all are vying for your money. This is particularly bad in tourist areas, where the aforementioned incident took place. Once a potential suitor has been engaged with eye or verbal contact, a casual "no thanks" will not suffice for peace, nor will a forceful "NO"; it takes a determined "NO!" (or "naheen naheen" if using Hindi) and a brisk head-downturned walk away to be left in peace. The art of saying "NO" is one which I have not mastered yet, but it is an art that I am improving with each passing day.
What is unfortunate about this state of affairs is that one learns to be guarded when approached by strangers, on the assumption that they want money. We have had many pleasant interactions with strangers who wanted nothing more than to offer helpful advice, or to hear about our lives back in New York, or what we thought about OBAMA. But when we approach the encounter prepared to say "NO," it leaves a bad taste in the mouth to never have to say the word at all.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
So much, so much!
India is giving me writer's block in the style of a Mumbai traffic jam. The worthy topics are far too ample, crammed together in little spaces in my head, barely evading collision as they zip about in unreliable patterns. There are not enough words from them to drive on together, so for the time being all I can spit out are cut phrases.
Here are some of the amazing things I have learned and observed thus far:
Construction in India is particularly, uh, interesting. The worker have no helmets, safety goggles, boots. Actually, they don't even wear shoes and often not a shirt. They squat around the site looking casual enough for Bartley to wonder out loud if they weren't possibly just here of their own accord, hacking at the road. Scaffolding is made of bamboo rods lashed together with rope.
Chai! Chai, chai, chai. I drink like 4 of them a day without trying. Yesterday, Bartley and I stopped at a chai-wallah (i.e., two guys crouching in what could be called a storefront only it was on a dirt road and was made of what appeared to be found object construction materials). There was a group of Indian fellows standing around it and chatting as if at the water cooler who seemed to be from all walks of life... this is where the neighbors meet. We got two chai (always served hot in spite of the heat, but I am getting used to that) and drank them. The men were not-so-surreptitiously observing us; I couldn't determine if it was friendly curiosity or something else. But as we tried to pay (Rs 6, each, and remember that Rs 50 = $1) they all smiled at us and the kid dishing out the tea indicated they'd picked up our bill. We hadn't even talked to them! All we could do was smile back and say "danya van!"
All the food is soooooooooooooo. good. So good! And I haven't once had a meal involving basmati rice or curry, the variety is endless. I am getting to just ordering something at random to find out what it is, as it is all veg anyway.
Hopefully I will soon be able to make cohesive thought patterns out of some of the other stimulation I've recieved.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
What is Hindi for "thank you" again?
Indian hospitality is tireless.
We are fed a huge, delicious breakfast every morning, and when we say "no thank you" to offers of more samosas, more vada, more chapati, it some how ends up on the plate anyway. There is no such thing as "we are full, thank you". If you like the food, then you must want more of it, and if you do not take seconds, it must be too sweet, too spicy, and so they run to the kitchen to offer us another dish.
"No, no, but we are finished! It was wonderful, but there is no more room!!" And thusly our plates are replinished.
Yesterday, Bartley and I debated casually evading mealtimes so as not to give them the obligation to feed us. At the the same time, who can turn down homemade chai (offered to us first thing as we stumble from sleep) ?
Last night, I made a fatal mistake: one of the (many, many) dishes on the table was a fresh salad, something I'm very excited about since uncooked vegetables are not relaible in restaurants. I took some red carrots, onion and tomato, and a long green bean, which I promptly took a huge crunch from. It was not a bean. It was a raw, tiny, magnomiuously hot green chile.
I never knew that spicy food could actually give you tunnel vision.
So in spite of the giggles this incited from the family, they thrust at me yogurt (which I was instructed to sugar), a cookie, a chocolate bar, and a glass of water with all the urgency of putting out a fire. I ate yogurt and chapati til I felt less like a fire-breathing dragon, laughing as tears trickled from my eyes. Of course, Mrs. Sorabh eats these things like candy, and this morning Mr. Sorabh had three on his plate with his samosa breakfast.
So as it, I've been here for about 2.5 days, and only bought two meals (one of which Bartley and I fought Anupam to pay for, and he won. I later found the rupees I had tucked in to the tab in my purse. Sneaky!!). And, I have yet to have spent the $40USD I exchanged at the airport. Do you know how long it takes to spend $40 in New York? Less than an hour, and that's if you stay home.
We are fed a huge, delicious breakfast every morning, and when we say "no thank you" to offers of more samosas, more vada, more chapati, it some how ends up on the plate anyway. There is no such thing as "we are full, thank you". If you like the food, then you must want more of it, and if you do not take seconds, it must be too sweet, too spicy, and so they run to the kitchen to offer us another dish.
"No, no, but we are finished! It was wonderful, but there is no more room!!" And thusly our plates are replinished.
Yesterday, Bartley and I debated casually evading mealtimes so as not to give them the obligation to feed us. At the the same time, who can turn down homemade chai (offered to us first thing as we stumble from sleep) ?
Last night, I made a fatal mistake: one of the (many, many) dishes on the table was a fresh salad, something I'm very excited about since uncooked vegetables are not relaible in restaurants. I took some red carrots, onion and tomato, and a long green bean, which I promptly took a huge crunch from. It was not a bean. It was a raw, tiny, magnomiuously hot green chile.
I never knew that spicy food could actually give you tunnel vision.
So in spite of the giggles this incited from the family, they thrust at me yogurt (which I was instructed to sugar), a cookie, a chocolate bar, and a glass of water with all the urgency of putting out a fire. I ate yogurt and chapati til I felt less like a fire-breathing dragon, laughing as tears trickled from my eyes. Of course, Mrs. Sorabh eats these things like candy, and this morning Mr. Sorabh had three on his plate with his samosa breakfast.
So as it, I've been here for about 2.5 days, and only bought two meals (one of which Bartley and I fought Anupam to pay for, and he won. I later found the rupees I had tucked in to the tab in my purse. Sneaky!!). And, I have yet to have spent the $40USD I exchanged at the airport. Do you know how long it takes to spend $40 in New York? Less than an hour, and that's if you stay home.
Monday, January 19, 2009
landed
Safe, and happy in Mumbai!
Update to come.
Apparently, we might go se the Black Lips tonight in an ampitheatre made from old fort ruins?
So far: <3
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Caution/Congratulations
"I always get excited when some one new comes to India for the first time.
Some of my own personal advice:
...Just about everyone has a why-did-I-come-here moment (or many moments) of culture shock. Knowing it comes (and goes) helps a little."
...India will attack your senses. Sights sounds smells and tastes-- sometimes it can be a bit much."
...india is the land of no. you will be told no about everything. keep on asking until they say yes. i've seen miracles occur this way: literally it's gone from 'there are no trains today to delhi' to 'oh yes, there's one coming in two hours' and then this magical, full train appears in two hours at your station and you're the only one that gets on."
...I feel like in India there is almost no such thing
as organization...like at all."
...Nothing works. If you make a plan your bus will be late and ruin it, if you are calling home the power will get cut, if you wash your clothes they will get ruined. Just relax and take a big deep breath the more you are able to be flexible the more you will love it."
...Indians are some of the nicest people you will ever meet. Indians are some of the worst people you will ever meet."
...We would get horribly ripped off and then we would meet someone who would bring us into their home and offer us anything they had just because they were curious. The people are incredible..."
... If you go to some ones house you have to eat your own weight in what ever they give you."
...It is the land of contradictions. Five star hotel built next to a slum. budda on a beer bottle.
love it hate it.
I hope you spend more time loving it. i sure do."
...I loved India, but I also hated it and I don't think I've every truly
known what that expression meant till I my trip there."
...The pace of life in India is different - things usually take longer."
...Their fundamental belief is in the continuity of life, and the Western notion of 'seizing the day' is less current in India than 'going with the flow' "
...In India, it is very easy to feel like you are losing control, and... there is only one way to regain that control--to dive in and swim"
...and when all else fails: sometimes you just have to submit to india. smile because i promise you, no matter how bad it seems at the time, you'll miss it when you're gone."
"Just keep an open mind and try to keep your expectations to a minimum."
...best of luck, and as we say here, 'happy journey' "
(quotes amalgamated from personal correspondence and travel guides. Thanks to Ike, Jeff, Laurel, Bhavana, etc.)
Some of my own personal advice:
...Just about everyone has a why-did-I-come-here moment (or many moments) of culture shock. Knowing it comes (and goes) helps a little."
...India will attack your senses. Sights sounds smells and tastes-- sometimes it can be a bit much."
...india is the land of no. you will be told no about everything. keep on asking until they say yes. i've seen miracles occur this way: literally it's gone from 'there are no trains today to delhi' to 'oh yes, there's one coming in two hours' and then this magical, full train appears in two hours at your station and you're the only one that gets on."
...I feel like in India there is almost no such thing
as organization...like at all."
...Nothing works. If you make a plan your bus will be late and ruin it, if you are calling home the power will get cut, if you wash your clothes they will get ruined. Just relax and take a big deep breath the more you are able to be flexible the more you will love it."
...Indians are some of the nicest people you will ever meet. Indians are some of the worst people you will ever meet."
...We would get horribly ripped off and then we would meet someone who would bring us into their home and offer us anything they had just because they were curious. The people are incredible..."
... If you go to some ones house you have to eat your own weight in what ever they give you."
...It is the land of contradictions. Five star hotel built next to a slum. budda on a beer bottle.
love it hate it.
I hope you spend more time loving it. i sure do."
...I loved India, but I also hated it and I don't think I've every truly
known what that expression meant till I my trip there."
...The pace of life in India is different - things usually take longer."
...Their fundamental belief is in the continuity of life, and the Western notion of 'seizing the day' is less current in India than 'going with the flow' "
...In India, it is very easy to feel like you are losing control, and... there is only one way to regain that control--to dive in and swim"
...and when all else fails: sometimes you just have to submit to india. smile because i promise you, no matter how bad it seems at the time, you'll miss it when you're gone."
"Just keep an open mind and try to keep your expectations to a minimum."
...best of luck, and as we say here, 'happy journey' "
(quotes amalgamated from personal correspondence and travel guides. Thanks to Ike, Jeff, Laurel, Bhavana, etc.)
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