Getting Runny, Getting Ready

So with less than a week left in India, I am going to focus this post on the most important part of our cultural experience in India- food. Yesterday after class, Stephanie, Katie, Eddie and I hit up the food court at the local mall- to mixed results.  I ordered this delicious paneer- veggie sizzler plate that quite literally rocked my world- and by rocked, I mean halfway through the next rickshaw ride I thought the world was going to end.  I ended up using this incredibly shitty pay toilet by the side of the rode, presided over by a tiny yoda-like attendant who thrust her gnarled paw into to my face to demand five ruppies before I could have my wicked way with her facilities.  She charged the Indian woman in front of me two, but considering the acts I did to her toilet, I figured the normally racist extra cover was pretty fair.

After lunch and the realignment of my digestive system, Eddie and I headed home for a quiet afternoon of laundry(together) and napping( separately) before crawling out of our respective holes to join others for dinner.  My tummy was still pretty wrathful, so we enjoyed some nice Americanish food at 898, the restaurant we went to our first night here with all the Norweigans.  I cannot believe that was three weeks ago.  After dinner we headed home for an evening of bollywood and cookie making.  Niana has a special talent for scrambling all foods, especially cookies, so out Nuttella flavored delights were yummy, but had the consistency of the aftermath of my paneer lunch.

Today, also after school, Eddie Stephanie and I headed over to Sbar mall for some vegetables and nail polish.  We got the idea last night after the nuttella incident to make out own masala spaghetti for dinner, and because the tropical heat makes EVERYTHING grow faster we all( minus Eddie) wanted to paint out pretty nails.  After the mall we headed out to Brigade to buy some last minute souvenirs.  I have actually gotten pretty good at bargaining.  They show you something, and you laugh politely and show only a flippant interest.

"Scarves, why would I want scarves, it's so hot outside!"
"Salt shakers, oh dear, I'm afraid I don't cook, that's why I need a good husband to do it for me!"
"If I am so beautiful, why don't you give it to me for less?"
"Elephants!  What would I do with a carved elephant, much less three?"

You also have to be willing to genuinely walk away. I flat out left the store and the shop keeper chased me out to agree to my price, which was about half of what he originally asked.  a lot of the shops carry similar goods, so if I have seen the 50th wooden Ganesha, I have no problem telling the shop keeper they are charging me too much.

Stephanie had a  very handsome shop attendant offer to lower the price of a scarf from 1200 to 200 if only she would give him a kiss.  She has a boyfriend so she refused, but I don't and was wildly offend she didn't throw him my way.  I love scarfs, especially ones with that kind of a service charge:)

Eddie Stephanie and I just very successfully made our masala spaghetti, and am looking forward to another quiet evening.  I still love India, but with all the big events behind me, everything else is kind of just school and shopping.  I am enjoying being here and most of the people, but I am also starting to look forward to coming home and sharing my experiences with everyone there.  Listening to Eddie discuss his evil and hilarious plans for hazing the girl replacing me makes me a little jealous, but I know the time is approaching where the thrill of my own bed and country will feel just right. 

The Story of How I DIDN'T Ride an Elephant

So yesterday and today and Friday were a blur of that special hot sweaty fun I have come to love and expect from India.  After my religion midterm and cooking class on Friday, I had the unique and amazing opportunity to visit a local Jain temple.  Jainism is a really beautiful religion.  The primary distinguishing point of Jainism is ahimsa- radical non violence.  All major religions preach against harming your fellow man, but Jains take it to a whole new level.  Ahimsa means no violence, against anything- people and animals, so general pacifist and vegetarians, but also bugs and micro organisms.  A true Jain wont boil water, and wears a mask over their face to prevent from breathing in and killing some tiny creature.  Some sweep the path in front of them to gently move anything out of the way from being trod on, and some really extreme sects live alone or in small groups in the forest naked, spending their time praying and eating only what they can gather.

For all that, their temple was surprisingly typical of many I have seen here.  Again, no pictures were allowed inside, but the building itself was white marble and very ornate and beautiful.  I was surprised by the number of female deities depicted, as well as the number of women and children present, since I had always heard of Jainism a being a very masculine religion.  We had the chance to experience the hourly offerings, and that was definitely something I wouldn’t get this side of the pacific.  After the temple my friends and I made a collective decision about what the Indian food was doing to out digestive tracts, and decided to slow our role with some good old all American Papa Johns.  Granted, most of the pizzas had paneer and capsicum, but the conversation was great and we were able to go home and pack to get up nice and early for Coorg.

Coorg is a very peaceful mountain town about five hours outside of Bangalore.  Saturday, we left at about 5am and were supposed to get their at ten, but due to both divine intervention and the general quality of Indian transportation, my bus broke down for a few hours and we didn’t arrive until after one.  On the plus side, we did get a coerced tour of a quaint one room schoolhouse that ended with us running back to the bus as the schoolteacher pursued, demanding writing utensils and money.  Once we actually arrived,  our “resort” was really  great, very sprawling with lots of little cabins and a central area for dinning and entertainment.  Dinner that night was a wonderful buffet, followed by a traditional Indian dance performance.  After the show, some USAC kids and myself jumped up on stage with a few of the families with small children that were there and engaged in some very high spirited non sexual booty shaking.

This morning, we woke up to rain and a rather unorthodox take on the concept of an omelet before hitting the road to the elephant camp.  In order to actually get to the camp, we had to pile into narrow old boats on crocodile infested waters(seriously) before put putting across to the side of the river with the elephants. When we arrived, and elephant was actually in the water with us being bathed, and I eagerly ran up to pet it before being blasted in the face with a trunkful of water.  The elephants are kept at the top of a very muddy, very slippery hill, next to the edge of one of the biggest jungles in India.  When not being cared for, most of them are released daily back into the forest.   Because of the rain the ground was wet enough that some of the elephants were actually sliding, so ridding them sadly wasn’t an option.  We did get to do lots of touching, photobombing, and feeding though!

After the elephants, we wandered around in another old park, this one prominently featuring huge bamboo plants and dear, before I really got to experience the joy of India during monsoon season.  Lunch was delicious, and I ate it soaking wet.

The Tibetan monastery we visited last in Coorg was one of my favorite religious sites I have seen on this trip.  For starters, I could actually take pictures, so for reference, this is about as ornate as any of the places I have visited, sixty foot tall gold statues and all. I also got to see the monk’s study room, which was actually how you would imagine a room full of monks would study.  Overall, Coorg was pretty great.

However, in Coorg, I came to the revelation that I have less than a week left here, and how sad that makes me.  A lot of my good friends here are staying for the second session, and hearing about all of their future adventures makes me pretty jealous.  As much as I love everyone at home, I love traveling, and all the new experiences I am having here. When I am back at Knoxville, I know exactly what my life will be- cabin parties, Dollywood, Market Square, First Friday, Golden Roast, and the occasional outdoor adventure.  And as much as I enjoy that life, I am really, really going to miss the actual adventures I am having here.  

Trust.

So at this point, I have been in India for a little bit over half of my total trip.  I have done/eaten/ pooped some very memorable experiences, and I have made some great friends whose wanderlust matches my own.   The past few days I have spent volunteering at an after school program in one of the biggest slums in India, helping kids with their English.  I have worked with kids before, and I have worked with lots of poor children, but their is something about being here that gives this experience such a different flavor.  Instead of the cat and the hat, I am reading them books about little boys who visit buddhist temples and get their shoes stolen by monkeys, or picky eater little girls who wont touch the delicious masala dosa their mother's made. Lots of the girls in my class are muslim, and to watch them be so happy and normal with their classmates, would really be an eye opening experience for some people in the states. India is amazing   The power goes out occasionally, the shower never has hot water, and yes, I have seen my lifetime supply of dead dogs, but all in all, I am very, very blessed to be here.

So why am I so anxious?

Ever since I have been here, I have experienced the occasional muscle pain in my hands.  A variety of symptoms from blurred vision to general lethargy have bothered me all of my trip.  When this started, my brain skipped the ignore and it will go away phase, and went strait to the bane of all sane living, Web MD.  I think there was one night where I  had myself convinced that I had multiple scholorosis and a brain tumor, all tied together by a neat little case of diabetes.  Last week, I went to a neurologist. Indian doctors have a fantastic reputation as a whole, because it is about a hundred times harder to be a doctor here than at home.  Also, again, he is a neurologist which means he specializes in exactly the kind of problems that have been bothering me.  I was terrified the night before my appointment, so I addedd sleeplessness and irritability to my growing list of symptoms.  When I walked into his office, I was l waiting for the axe to fall.  He did a through physical and mental examination of me, then asked when my symptoms started, which was about two days before I left for India.  He did a few more test, than sat me down, looked me in the eye and explained that the cause of all my symptoms was me- I was literally stressing and worrying myself into being sick.  He gave me a few pills to help with my circulation, then sent me on my way.

For anyone familar with my family medical tree, it doesn't take a genius to see why my brain is so worse case scenario.  Instead of the normal youth reaction of, "it never will happen to me," my subconscious is quietly marking every scrape cough and shake down to some horrible ailment.  Add to my higher than normal level of anxiety another country that, however amazing it is, still doesn't quite grasp the concept of toilet paper, and it's pretty clear how I psyched myself into a box.

For the week that I took the pills, I had virtually no problems- yet I kept expecting to.  Every movement of my hands was accompanied by the fear that there would be a painful tingle, even though there never was. I was fearful of fear,and I worried so much that I feel like I haven't enjoyed parts of this experience as much as I could of.

Today I went for my checkup, and even though everything was going well, I just started to cry.  He was going to look at me and see something he had missed, some new symptom that would ruin my life. I just started thinking about everything I have worked for, all my amazing friends both here and home, and all the relationships and opportunities I can't even dream of- all being taken away.
Mrs.Florence, who I can only describe as my USAC Indian mommy, took me to lay down in one of the rooms of the clinic  and gently stoked my hair as I started blubbering about all of my fears.

"You need to trust in Jesus, child. He loves you."

When she first said that, I nodded, but inwardly I cringed.  I am a Christian, as is my family and most of my friends, but that's not how I have ever felt comfortable talking about God. It reminds me too much of all the people who would talk about how great and merciful God's plan was, when my sister and not theirs was dying.   I am a religious studies scholar, which means I can tell you what Jews or Hindus or Muslims thinks about God's will, but I can get very uncomfortable when confronted with a real life real God situation.

But their was something about how Mrs. Florence said this, that for once, spoke to me.  Talking to her about her struggles in life and faith actually touched rather than pissed me off, and she gently made me see how silly I was being.  It's not that nothing bad will ever happen to me ever again in my entire life- but I can't spend that life worrying about things that might not even happen.  I am too young to worry so much, and if I could tap into even the smallest part of her faith, what a difference that would be. I tend to see myself as being really wise, and worldly and mature- with my five year plan and huffington post subscription.  But in the grand scheme of things, I am not, and at some point my academic God needs to be given the room needed for faith.  I can't know everything, and without trust a million second opinions from a hundred doctors is never going to take away my stress.  I need to, honestly, have some faith and quit being scared.  God did not create me to be afraid, so I need to stop harming myself with my own doubts.

I need to trust in Jesus. I am a child.  And, I am loved.


(P.S, the doctor said I am doing just fine:)

Mysore

So I didn't get a chance to write about our trip to Mysore yesterday, simply because I came home and fell into bed, sweat, funk, and all.  Our day started at a brisk 5am, where we then traveled for three hours by extra small and steamy bus to Mysore, a great cultural center down the road from Bangalore. Over the centuries, Mysore has been home to sultans, maharajahs, and enough hindu temples to make a roomful of Evangelist scurry for their bibles, but because we only had a day, there were just a few greatest hits to our trip.

The first temple we visited was at least 900 years old, and apparently didn;t allow photography inside.  I didn't realize this, nor delete my pictures afterwards, so please don't step on me when I am reborn as a dung beetle.  When we got out of the van, we were swarmed by youths leading beautiful painted and flowered horses, promising us "bootiful women" a ride up the treacherous steps of the temple.  Halfway up we realized the price was actually 600 rupees, and once we refused to pay we suddenly got less beautiful and considerably more suitable for schlepping.  The temple itself was huge though, and it was a fun Indiana Jones moment to wander around in the dim stone walls for a while.

Our next stop was the summer Palace of the Tippu Sultan.  This time, the no camera rule was enforced with a security checkpoint, so alll my memories of the place are not easily shareable.  It was big and ornate and painted, with lots of beautifully carved everything topped off by a gorgeous celling dipping with lots.  The balconies were my favorite.  It's so easy to imagine some beautiful princess being serenaded to by her lover there, in the middle of the (seriously) Peacock Garden.  Ah.

The next temple that we saw that day was located at an elevation of 3,000 ft, on top of one of seven sacred hills of southern India.  The temple itself was crowded, but the view over the side was spectacular.  I paid a few rupees for a blessing, then spent a little while wandering around with some fresh nice coconut.

Of course, the guilt and gold MacDaddy of India was next, also known as the Mysore palace.  Google Image Mysore palace.  It is gigantic, and beautiful, and the most decadent place I have ever been in my life, coming from a girl who has spent some time in Eastern Orthodox Monastaries.  Wow.  I also got to ride a camel there, which isn't the exotic beast that most Indians are hoping American girls come abroad to experience.

 The honeymoon period is defiantly over for me as of yesterday in regards to being a novelty.  Yesterday was the first time we were at a lot of really really touristy places, and myself and the girls I were with were just harassed.  Men kept making kiss faces when we walked by, or would "rub" past in the most inappropriate way.  My friend Katie had a man literally grab her face and try to kiss her, in front of his buddies.  Even if it isn't sexually, we are still targeted.  Vendors and peddlers kept pushing us, literally, and some actually followed us out to our van, where they would walk around the outside and tap on the glass, trying to get us to buy something.  I never felt physically threatened,  but it was still pretty draining, and was kind of a dammper on a really great day.

Two Great Days

So I was I didn’t write this weekend, but for once it wasn’t because I had some terrible illness sucking away my joy and happiness- I was busy!

Friday was my first Indian cooking class, and I learned the dirrernce between South and North Indian food, as well how to make some tasty basics like naan and chicken curry.  I am thinking a dinner party will be in order for all my Knoxville friends when I am back in town, so you may have the privledge of marveling at my talentsJ  Our cooking class got out pretty late, and since we had planned such a busy day Saturday, we ecided to cool our heels and go see the new snow white movie.  Indian movie theaters are cleaner, comfier, and all aroud better than ours.  Also, it doesn’t hurt that Chris Hmsworth is hot on every continent.

Saturday we toured the communtities that our university in Bangalore sponsors as part of it’s service learviing initiative, including a leoprosy facility, shelter for battered women, and a school for children with HIV.  This was not a charity system- everyone who was able(except kids)  worked at producing some kind of skill or craft tha could be sold and used to sustain the community.  Leoporsy seems like such an old fashioned thing to me, and t was really shocking to see people missing limbs and fingers from it, working to make candles or sew purses.  The coordinator was very strict on pointing out that these people were not disabled- they were differently abled, and in fact quite capable of being productive.

After the communities visit, Niana, Eddie and I hoped off the bus “literally” in the middle of down tow, in order to visit the Bull Temple, a great landmark of Bangalore.  The temple itself was handsome, but nothing like the gold and silver fantatsies seen elsewhere.  It’s primary focus was a giant statue of a black bull.  We were the only parisoners there at that time, so we had a moment to chat with the priest. The temple and statue were 500 years old, and his family had served as the priest their the entire time.  Americans really have no sense of scale for something like that- I am proud to be at least three generations Lutheran on my father’s side of the family, the odea of a dynasty that goes ack five times longer is mind- blowing.  The gardens around the temple were huge and lush, with lots of water formation, flowers, and yes, monkeys.

That night for dinner one of my friends here, Amanda, had a friend who was actually playing jazz in the city that night.  The show was really great, and the bar itself was very new and tasty, the perfect end to a very, very long day.  

The Great Indian Stimulus Package.

Today was an awesome day.  So good, that I could literally end the blog here, with no further justification, and go to bed quite content.  However,some of you inquiring minds(hi, mom) may actually want details.  Class was great this morning.  I am really starting to get into my religion and violence class.  Ivory Lyons is really fantastic at disscussion-based learning, and since our class is so tiny and opinionated, it really makes for some nerdy fun time.  He has a real talent for making you reexamine what you already know.  He discussed the way in which hymn and songs can play into the idea of religion as a military body, but I was surprised when one of the hymns he chose as an example was "A Mighty Fortress is our God"- basically, the Lutheran national anthem.  I have heard this song since I was baby, and always thought of it as comforting, not violent, but, after that class I cant help but notice it's innately militaristic qualities. I guess part of learning isn't just digesting new material, but also rethinking what you already know.

After class a group of us went over to lalvagh park, one of the most beautiful places I have been here.  The park is a lush, tropical forest/ garden that surrounds a very austere stone hill which has an amazing view of the city.  Such a unique, but tranquil place.  

Some of the girls in our group decided to do henna the temple at the top of the hill, and while we were waiting we met some Russian tourist.  There is something about being a minority in another country that gives you an instant right to conversation with anyone white.  After getting some ice cream and wandering for a few hours, all five of us piled in a ricksaw to hit Mahatma Gandhi- MG road, on of the premier crafts places in the city.

 Bartering with a shop owner is like talking to a creeper at a dive bar. Upon seeing you, he has a pretty good idea of how far you are willing to go, but then proceeds to spend the next twenty minutes trying to talk you into something a little further. I had so many silk scarves shoved into my face today it was a wonder someone wasn't strangled with one.  Regardless though, Indian craft stores are wonderful things to browse in, and I did find some really beautiful deals for myself and friends.  We even went into a swanky, swanky ass gold store.

You have never been in a jewelry store until you have been in an Indian one.  The solution to America's debt crisis literally is wrapped around the throat ears and fingers of any wealthy Indian bride.   Everything was beautiful, but a lot of it was just a lot.  I spent a ton of money today on knick nacks, but even still there are really, really poor people sitting on the front steps. It's hard to see such poverty directly next to such decadence, and while it is a contrast I am obviously uncomfortable with, I am at even more of a loss about what to actually do about it.  

Don't Angry Me!

Today was the first day I actually felt like I live in India.  I can't really explain it, but before now, it kind of felt like I was in some janky Disney theme park.  Like, "Oooo look at the people! Oooo lets buy things!"- cultural exposer, but only to the point that you can still leave the park and be back in Florida.

Today I went grocery shopping with my flatmate, Eddie.  Eddie is from Vegas, and is one of those people you carelessly describe as quiet until he says something unbelievably witty that literally knock you on your ass.  We braved the three mile trek to the grocery store, and for the first time since I've been here, I had a really mundane conversation.
"What are you getting?"
"Eggs.  Maybe some mango juice if it looks good.  Oh! And crackers for my nutela stash."
"I have crackers if you want to share, but since they wont be refrigerated, I don't think eggs are the best idea."
"fair point."

For all the exoticness of being here, there is something really comforting about making your guyfriend uncomfortable while you buy pads (no tampons in India! :C) and yogurt.  I really enjoy the non- touristy part of Bangaleur surrounding our apartment, especially now that I can actually navigate it.  The city here has a really beautiful, haphazard layout.  There are KFCs (fact: most popular American chain in India, God help us all) and restaurants without any semblance of english, back up to high end fabric shops, and nature reserves.  You can literally see camels next to the grocery store behind my apartment.  How the city moves seems really random and scary, but once you get a little bit used to it, you can see all the big intricate threads of communication, and every suddenly becomes a lot less "foreign."

Afterwards, Eddie and I went out for a lovely and non exotic dinner at au bau pain, where I dinned on a very non spiced and digest friendly tomato and mozzarella sandwich.  We took a rickshaw over to the theater, where all of our friends were waiting to go see a movie. I am in the USAC program with sixteen other people- fourteen girls, and two boys.  Most of us didn't know each other before coming, and today was the first night I felt a real sense of group bonding.  We all come from different backgrounds, and very different places in the country.  Some people are living it up here, and others are quietly (or less so) waiting to leave.  But there is something about sitting through a two hour "dramedy" in another language, and missing about ninety percent of the cultural cues that just makes for a really great shared bonding experience.  I like India, but I am really starting to love the people I am fortunate enough to share this trip with.