Honorary Tibetans

I returned to my room last night with the intention of thinking up "a few words" to say at the closing ceremony for this semester, per Rinzin's request. I didn't have any luck. If I've learned anything over the years, it's that you can't force these kinds of things; if the mojo isn't flowing, go to bed and hope that it's better in the morning.

So that's what I did. As luck would have it, I woke up with all kinds of ideas for what I should say. I ran through it in my head for a few minutes, hopped up and took a nice, hot shower, and then sat down and typed. It's been a little while since I had to write a speech -- it was nice and nostalgic. See, being on the speech team and writing OOs for 4 years prepared me for the real world! I win!

I proofread it quickly and decided that exactly one page was the perfect length; I gave myself plenty of time to get dressed because I, like a few of the other teachers, decided to wear a chupa to the ceremony. They aren't difficult to put on, per se, but like anything new, I knew it'd take a little getting used to. Last week I'd had one custom made by Tibetan tailors in McLeod Ganj with fabric I bought down in Lower D'sala. THE FABRIC HERE IS SO CHEAP, and there is so much of it! I wish I could just load up my suitcases with the stuff and bring it home. Sadly, fabric is also heavy, there's a 50# weight limit on checked bags, and I have other things I need to bring back.

In my humble opinion, a chupa is a little easier to figure out than a sari. Saris are just 4 meters (give or take) of 1-meter-wide fabric. There are a whole bunch of different variations on how you can wrap them, but there's a basic technique you've got to get down. Chupas are more like dresses with a blouse underneath. I find them elegant, even the utilitarian ones.

For those of you keeping track, I now possess a wardrobe that includes traditional Indian clothing in the form of saris and salwar kameez, and traditional Tibetan clothes, my new chupa. In fact, I got such good feedback and the thing was so darn comfortable I decided to get a couple of more blouses made to go with it. I figure I can also copy the pattern and make more when I get home if I decide to.

Anyway, I managed to get into my nice new outfit and over to Tibet Charity with enough time to run upstairs and print off my speech. Everyone acted surprised and feigned intimidation when they saw I'd actually written something. To tell the truth, I hadn't planned on going up there with anything more than notes, but it just happened that I thought of a few specific things I wanted to say and besides, I didn't want to get caught up rambling. It was only one page. Come on, that's practically nothing.

We arrived at Tibet Charity and were instructed to sit at the table in front, with all the students seated on the ground in front of us.

Mr. Director-la gave a short speech and then Rinzin, the coordinator of the education section, said a few words and asked each of us volunteer teachers to do the same. The speeches were all touching. Each of us talked about the sincere pleasure it has been to work with the students here, how it has been a life-changing experience we will never forget, how we are all grateful to have been able to come here. I was confident that I wouldn't cry during my speech (for some reason... history is not on my side here), but my voice did get a little shaky when I talked about how welcome they'd all made me feel. I told them I hope they understand how strong their sense of community is and how special and powerful that is, because it doesn't exist everywhere, and not everyone has that. I'm pretty sure I saw one of my students recording the whole thing, so maybe you'll be able to look it up on YouTube...

I didn't cry though, and we finished the rest of the ceremony with no glitches aside from the fact that there was some sort of bulldozer operating in the lot next to TC. That was a little distracting. Luckily, I was on the speech team (as I believe I mentioned previously), so I know how to project my voice.

Afterward tea and snacks were served and many photos were taken. (Photo credit for everything in this post goes to Neil. Thanks, Neil!) You can contact him at

The 4 on the left are my students: Tandin from Bhutan, and Jampel, Karma, and Yangchen from Tibet.

The Tibet Charity nurses in their signature purple chupas.

My students insisted we go up to our classroom "because they had something for me." Gusti and I followed them upstairs, they sat us down in chairs at the front of the room, and two of our top students, Jampel and Yangchen, said a few words about how they were so thankful to us for everything we'd done over the semester. They presented us with the white katas the Tibetans use to show respect to one another. Each of our students in turn came up with a scarf for each of us; by the end of it all I had so many of them I looked like a yeti.

 
I am not ashamed to admit that about 2/3 of the way through something clicked in my brain, some connection was made, maybe regarding the finality of it all, and, well... I didn't make a whole lot of effort to stop the tears from coming. My students are so damned sweet. I'm going to miss them.

We took more and more photos. Some of the pre-intermediate students I hadn't actually had in class for the last few months wanted photos with me.

After everyone finally left for the day, I went home to change my clothes and then returned to Tibet Charity for lunch. The plan was for a small group of us volunteers to head down to Lower Dharamsala to buy a whole bunch of supplies for Tibet Charity with funds that we'd donated. There had been discussion in the previous weeks about how best to spend the donation; we eventually decided to get a range of consumables, like toilet paper and toner for the printer, as well as a few infrastructure-type things like a water filter and some kitchen equipment. It was fun little adventure.

In the evening, the volunteer teachers all went out for one last dinner before those of us who haven't gone yet start leaving town. The other Americans are heading out tomorrow morning, Van will be going a couple of days later, and I, one of the first to arrive, will be the last to go, on Wednesday evening. Now that the end is basically here, I feel like I could stay another few months. Maybe not so much in the winter... the nights are already quite cold. There isn't any heat in most buildings, either, so that means wearing layers and piling on the blankets. It's not so bad. It just kind of makes it tough to get out of bed in the morning.

I'll be glad to have a heated bedroom again in another week. How ridiculously cold is it in Illinois these days?

Our Elementary level class! I'm so proud!!

***If anyone is interested in donating to Tibet Charity:
For reasons involving a fair amount of bureaucracy and governmental red tape, it's better to send "stuff" than money. TC could use learning aids like flash cards, games, ESL readers, or even any books that are in good shape and written in relatively simple English. If you want more details or other ideas, send me a message and I'd be happy to make a list based on my experience here.

Tibet Charity
Lower Temple Road
McLeod Ganj, Dharamsala, Kangra Distt.
Himachal Pradesh, India 176219 ***

Pizza & Momos

This is it. I'm done teaching at Tibet Charity. Final exams were held yesterday; most of my students passed (a few of them have the extra credit to thank for that) and some did exceptionally well. 

Today Gusti and I took them out for a pizza party in Dharamkot. The students brought some momos, we ordered ten delicious pizzas, and everyone had a lot of fun.

They kept telling me to sit down and relax, but I can't help it -- I enjoy entertaining and if I'm in anything resembling a hostess position, I tend to get into it. I asked them if they have winter holidays coming up in Tibetan/Bhutanese culture aside from New Year's. They said no, but asked about what we've got in the US. I told them all about Thanksgiving (Happy T-day to my friends in the States!), which most of them seemed quite interested in, and they asked all kinds of questions about turkeys. I don't think they have them here. I told them how most Americans prepare a big meal for this holiday so the fact that we were all out having food together was, in a way, quite similar. It's like they'd gotten together to make a Thanksgiving-away-from-home for me, and they seemed pleased that they could do this.

They insisted on doing everything. The students wouldn't let Gusti or me cut the pizzas, they wouldn't let us serve the food, and they always gave us the first slices when a fresh one would come out. Tibetans can be very bossy, but when it's in the context of such hospitality, how can you get upset?

After finishing our lunch and taking a bunch of photos on a dozen different cameras, phones, and tablets, they instructed us to follow them "up to the mountain." When I asked how far they answered "not far," but pointed to some indefinite area wayyyyyyyy off in the distance. I joked that it would take so long I'd miss my flight home. I hadn't worn the proper shoes for a real hike; I knew we'd be taking pictures so I opted to wear my red jutis that I got in Jaipur. People have been telling me they're more like house shoes. This bothered me at first, but then I remembered: I don't wear shoes in the house. If they're shoes, and I'm wearing them, it's going to be outside.

I pointed this out to them, that I wasn't wearing anything that could possibly pass for hiking shoes. Jampel, the one monk, told me "the Bhutan guys are very strong, they'll carry you!" to which the "Bhutan guys" responded that Tibetans were stronger (it's true, they tend to be tall and tough in general), but one way or another they'd get me where we were going.

This is Dolker. She's super sweet, and a pretty good student, too.

The view just never gets old.

Eventually we came to a Hindu shrine where we took some more photos and then backtracked just a little to a grassy spot where we could chill, sing songs, and munch on snacks for a while.

When we finally headed back down to McLeod Ganj, they insisted on taking a shortcut -- the same shortcut that Kalden, Brij, Marie, and I took when we went up to Triund that one time. At one point my foot slipped a bit and I heard a chorus of "Ohhh!" from the students who were in the lead and down below us. Lobsang Dolma, one of my quietest but most thorough students, insisted on holding my hand the rest of the way to make sure I didn't fall, even though she had also earlier insisted on carrying my bag as well as Gusti's, even though she already had her own. "Tibetans are very strong," I observed. They asked me if the roads were "like this" where I live; I told them no, only in the forests in some places. Generally they are in much better condition. They seemed to take this as a perfectly good explanation as to why they could navigate the rocky, irregular path so much more easily than us westerners.

Regardless, we made it down with no casualties. What we had originally planned to be a 3-hour event turned into one that lasted all morning and into the afternoon. It was fantastic. I love the comfort level that you reach with people after seeing them nearly every day for weeks or months, and when the official business or class or whatever is done, everyone can just relax and have a good time together. This evening we had our last staff/volunteer dinner at TC, tomorrow morning we have our closing ceremony for the semester, for which I still have to put together a speech of some sort, and after that.... we're all done. I just have to tie up my loose ends around town as far as last-minute gift obtainment, pay my bill at the hotel, eat at my favorite restaurants once or twice more, pack up all of my stuff -- and decide what's not coming back with me -- and that's it. Get on a night bus to Delhi next Tuesday or Wednesday evening, make sure I tell my students ahead of time because I know at least a couple will want to see me off, and go. Exactly one week from this very moment I'll be somewhere in Indira Gandhi International Airport, maybe waiting to go through security, maybe chilling at my gate with a book, but I'll be having my final few hours in India. 

Four months sure flies when you're having fun. I knew it would.

Where should I go for my next trip? I've got a couple of places in mind, but I'm interested to see what kind of input I can get from my dear readers......

Down to the Last Few Days

Well, that's it. I taught my last day of class at Tibet Charity today. Tomorrow we have final exams, Thursday is a free day -- during which many of the teachers are having a little party or somesuch for their students; Gusti and I are taking ours out for pizza -- Friday is the closing ceremony, and that's it. Done. I have zero obligations thenceforth until I leave the country less than a week later.

I think my students will do well. Rather than give them a cumulative final I opted to just have a last chapter test. It seems shorter and easier than the others, so I hope they all do well. Today was a review day; we went over everything that will appear on the test and most of them took what appeared to be comprehensive notes, so I hope they study a bit and show me what they can do.

After class I met with Lobsang again, one of the pre-intermediate students, and we went over the material that was likely to be on his test tomorrow. They've been working on nothing/something/anything and how to use phrases like so do I, so can I, so have I, neither have I, etc. It's tricky trying to explain why you use one over the others sometimes, but what we decided on is you only really use so have I or neither have I when the sentence you're responding to appears in present perfect tense ("I have lived here for 5 years" -> "So have I", but "I live here" -> "So do I"). I'm not sure if this works in every case or even most of them, but it seemed to do the trick enough to at least get him through this test. He told me about how this class is the first English class he's taken; up until this point all the English he knows he learned from self-study and from asking people. It's inspiring. Many of my students are inspiring. Today I got the first real pang of sadness, knowing that in just a short time I'll be leaving them for a while, perhaps forever. I hope some of them keep in touch.

Lobsang walked me part of the way home because it was getting dark by the time we finished studying. One thing I like about India is that so many people seem concerned for one another. Their sense of personal space is much smaller than it is in the west; you see people walking down the street hand in hand all the time. The most noticeable difference is that most of them are men. It's very unusual to see two people of the opposite sex holding hands here, but two guys? I see it all the time. Two women? Also not weird, though considerably less common. Many of my students and friends here have offered to walk me home at various points throughout my stay, the monks especially. The sense of community here is strong, and I've felt welcomed from very early on.

I'll miss it. I'll miss them.

I've been getting asked a lot if I'll come back to India in general, and Dharamsala in particular. I tell them the truth: Probably not for a while, but I'd like to at some point. I like it here. It isn't perfect, but it's got a sort of honesty about it that I can appreciate. If you've never been to India, you should check it out. It's not as scary as the MSM would have you believe.

Supporting the local economy

मेरे दोस्तों नमस्ते !
I'm the kind of person who likes to sleep in. Mornings like today are somewhat uncommon: I woke up an hour before my alarm went off (even though I didn't go to bed until 2am), energized and ready to Get Shit Done. I even surprised myself.

I'm now well within my last two weeks here in India, which means it's finally time to buy all the souvenirs and things I want to take home. I had been putting it off because buying more stuff would mean I'd have more stuff to store, and with a trip to Rajasthan in the mix, during which I left the rest of my possessions with a friend, it didn't make sense to add to the amount of things I'd have to cart back and forth. I don't imagine I'll be moving again before my final trip to Delhi, so now the shopping can commence.

If any of you want something specific, tell me now. If you want something specific and expensive, I'll send you my Paypal address so you can get those dollas to me.

I went into McLeod Ganj for breakfast, enjoying a satisfying chicken sandwich with mango & coriander chutney on the patio, in the sun, at Moonpeak Espresso. I haven't been there in a while. On my way, I stopped in to a shop to take a look at something specific on my list for a gift. The middle-aged Indian proprietor smiled a lot and wasn't pushy at all; when I asked in Hindi if he had what I was looking for, he became excited as well. We talked for a few minutes, him showing me various items on the shelves in his tiny store, and even though I felt like it must have been painful for him to endure my butchery of his native language when he clearly could speak mine, he complimented me, saying that my Hindi was "bohut sunder" -- very beautiful -- and that I sound like I've been speaking it for a long time. 

All I have to say is LOL. Thanks, sir, but I don't entirely believe you. It's sweet of you to say, though.

After breakfast I headed up to the ATM because, well, the whole point of going in to town today was to shop and I needed funds. Over the last 4 months I have made friends with one of the shopkeepers near said ATM. The guys over there tend to hang out outside because their shops are tucked back from the street; it's easier to grab customers if they're more visible.

Taj showed me all kinds of pretty things, of which I purchased a few unique pieces for gifts this upcoming Xmas (lucky you if you get one of them!). He made a comment that he'd give me the "local price" because I'd been here long enough that "now you are a local." I told him "Baria!" to which he responded with a surprised "and now you also speak Hindi!" He was kind enough to let me practice a bit, only reverting back to English when I really had no idea how to get my point across otherwise. It's so much fun. It's like decoding a puzzle.

I try to speak in Hindi as much as I can, because that's the only way to get better at it, not to mention more comfortable with it. Most of the people I do this with seem initially surprised but then appreciative; I have had a couple of Indians tell me that many foreigners come to Dharamsala because it's a Tibetan area, and the Indian locals get looked over or even looked down on. This is unfortunate, of course, but it works in my favor in a way because I stand out as "that foreigner who has actually bothered to learn our language." Obviously I support the Tibetan community as well -- it's the reason I came here, after all; I do volunteer at a place called Tibet Charity -- but there's a different sort of inclusion I feel when I bust out what little Hindi I have with the Indians. It's like I immediately gain a bit of status in their eyes, like I really am more "local." Sometimes, in my desire to use it as much as I can, I catch myself nearly speaking Hindi with my students or other expats who only understand English... it's pretty funny.

One thing I enjoy about McLeod Ganj and Dharamsala is being able to say at least "hello" in a few different languages. I know how to say this and "thank you" in Tibetan, and that's pretty much it -- but there's something exciting about walking down the street and greeting Tibetans with tashi delek, then passing a westerner or two and telling them hi, and responding to the Indian shopkeepers' "Hello, Madam" or "How are you?"  or "Yes, taxi?" -- it's like navigating a town full of NPCs, I swear -- with a namaste or thik, aap kaise hai? or nahin, thank you bhaiya. I feel so multicultural.

Uncounting

The end of the fall semester at Tibet Charity is rapidly approaching. Classes end on the 26th, final exams are the next day, and then Friday there is a closing ceremony. I'm having a chupa made just for me for the closing ceremony, and I'm pretty pumped about it. I think it'll look nice, and the color should coordinate nicely with the new juties I got in Jaipur.

A couple of my Pre-Intermediate students have been asking me for help studying for their final. I've met with both of them the last few nights; I haven't seen either of them in a while. The one also said we are going to have to go have lunch sometime before I leave India. It's nice to be appreciated.

The current chapter in my class deals with countable vs. uncountable nouns, and today we introduced how much and how many. Teaching English can be tricky because it's hard to give students "rules" to follow; you tell them an uncountable noun, like "bread" (you say "some bread," not "a bread"... usually) can be made countable by adding the phrase "a piece of" in front of it: a piece of bread. Some rice becomes a piece of rice. No problem, right? Some meat and a piece of meat, some fish becomes a piece of fish... Then you get to some butter/a piece of butter and it starts sounding a little funny. It still works, though. When you make it to some grapes... well. Have you ever said "a piece of grapes"? I didn't think so. Regardless, they are handling it well. The end of the semester is always fun because everyone relaxes a bit. I'm not a huge advocate of keeping a distance between myself and my students; I want them to be comfortable with me and have fun in class, because that's how you learn best. Interested students are studious students. We laugh even more now than we did early in the semester; they understand more colloquialisms (today we went through "it doesn't matter," "got it," "leftovers," and other similar phrases) and give clever responses to my questions.

My hope is to make it through this chapter by the time finals roll around. We're just shy of halfway, with three days of class remaining. The power was out the entire class period today, so that meant we couldn't do any of the listening exercises that came with the textbook. We focused more on speaking and how to phrase questions and answers instead. I like to have a review day before each exam; I don't think we'll get a whole day this time, but I'm definitely going to try to give them at least half of one. Hopefully they'll all have done their homework.

I'm going to miss them when I go. I've collected a few email addresses; I'd like to keep in touch with as many of them as I can. I've met so many interesting people here in India, from so many different backgrounds. Some of the Tibetans were born here, in exile, and others have stories of crossing the mountains on foot, traveling at night because there was less risk of being caught that way. All of them dream of someday returning to Tibet. I've met some very cool Indians, and a couple of my fellow expats have entered the ranks of my best friends. As always, part of me can't wait to get home and see all of you -- but another part of me knows that I'll miss this place once I go. Even now, with two weeks remaining, I feel like I'm not entirely here. I haven't totally unpacked my bags in my new place; I'm not going to. I don't want to get too settled, because I'm just going to have to undo it all in a handful of days anyway. I've now stayed at 4 of the hotels near Tibet Charity. I feel like a nomad. I can definitely understand how people get addicted to traveling... it's been one of the most incredible experiences of my life. It's just what I needed, and I'm so grateful to everyone who helped make it happen.

Feel the Love

As luck would have it, now that I'm within my last couple of weeks here, I seem to be making all kinds of friends. The managers at two of the local hotels -- New Varuni House and Villa Paradiso, stay at one of these if you are ever in town -- have been incredibly kind and hospitable, especially since I arrived back in town this weekend. The girls at the cafe down the street are absolute sweethearts, and of course I made some friends in the soldiers from the train the other night. A couple of the students from the Pre-Intermediate class that I taught at the beginning of the semester, that I had since handed off to Brij and he to Jill, found me in Tibet Charity and specifically asked if I would help them study for an upcoming test because they preferred my teaching methodology. The guys here at Varuni seem to enjoy my efforts to speak the local language; they ask me "Aap kaisi hai?" when I come downstairs and smile broadly when I respond in Hindi. Being able to talk to the locals really does open up an entirely new world. I wish I'd started sooner.

Oh well. Better late than never, right? I keep watching Benny Lewis's videos for inspiration -- if he can learn enough Polish in an hour to hold a rudimentary conversation, why can't I learn enough Hindi to do the same in, say, a couple of weeks? The answer is laziness, lol. I think I know more than I realize; my vocabulary is so-so and every day I can pick out more and more words when I listen to other people talk. Indians tend to speak very fast, though, which can get intimdating... fast. Now that I can read the language, it makes things a bit easier. Brij and I made a good travel team: I could read signs, and he could tell me what the words meant. Together we were unstoppable! Well.. we could find our way around, at least.

My plan is to continue studying Hindi even after I get home. Recognizing words in conversation feels like I'm suddenly in on a secret, like I've got the means to decode the, well, code. Just as I do at home when foreigners attempt to speak English, many of the people here seem to appreciate the fact that I'm at least making an effort, even if the end result is less than polished. It's intimidating, especially when most people also speak English. I've found that a lot of them aren't interested in conversing with me in Hindi because I clearly speak English; either it's less hassle for them, or they want to practice their foreign language skills. That's ok. Now that I've gotten over the initial barrier of just getting started, I'm more motivated to learn. It doesn't seem quite so unmanageable. I've developed a familiarity for the sound of the language and I try to work it into conversation as much as I can, even if it's only a few words here and there. I expect when I get home I'll be ordering at restaurants in Hindi out of habit. ;)

I feel like I'm more on a roll with it now. I kind of wish I could stay another couple of months and really work on it........ I guess if nothing else it's a good excuse to schedule another trip to India, eh?

Back to Class

While I was in Rajasthan, Gusti and my class managed to get through two chapters in the textbook. They  had a test scheduled for today -- I try not to have them fall on Mondays, but we're in crunch time now so I just went with it; plus I haven't been here to object -- so I figured it would make for a nice, easy segue back into teaching mode.

When a few of my students saw me in the hall before class I got surprised looks and excited hellos. It was like they didn't expect me to actually come back after my trip! I suppose, to be fair, I had told them I'd be gone "2 or 3 weeks," and at the time I had been leaning more toward 2, so maybe it's not unreasonable that they thought I just decided to stay.

They were curious about my trip so I told them briefly about some of the highlights: riding camels in the desert, the broken train on the way back... but some of them tend to make use of the full 2 hours allowed on test day, so I didn't want to cut into that too much.

They seemed to struggle with the test. Even my strongest students regarded their papers with furrowed brows and made extra use of their erasers. Everyone took longer than usual to finish. I had to clarify a bunch of points, and even then they seemed to have trouble.

They all finished, though, and on time.

I just finished grading the stack of exams, and oh my goodness... they aren't looking very good. I'm not sure what happened, but they definitely weren't lying when a bunch of them told me as they turned in their papers that the test was "very difficult." I wound up giving everyone an extra 10 percentage points so their final grades wouldn't be too thrown out of whack; we won't have time to re-take them, and since I wasn't here to make sure they understood the material, I can't say for sure what happened. When everyone in a class fails to understand, though, I don't think you ought to punish the students because clearly something else is up. Maybe the material was too difficult, maybe they rushed through it... I'm not sure, but it's my opinion that a student's understanding of the material is far more important than a grade, and if they can communicate effectively in English then I see no reason to bum them out with poor marks when it's probably not their fault anyway.

It's for this same reason that I'm with Van on the subject of recognizing the top 2-3 students in each class at our closing ceremony (we're against it): it doesn't matter if you get better scores than your peers, what matters is being able to use the language.

Anyway, I'm glad that's over. I think we may spend most of class tomorrow going over the test and trying to understand what the heck happened.

On a completely unrelated note, the areas around my hometown got hammered by tornadoes yesterday. It's my understanding that most of the damage was to property; relatively few people were injured. I wish I were there to help out. :( This is the first time I really felt the distance from home: there's insanity happening near a great many of the people I care about, and there's not a damned thing I can do aside from follow it online. A friend sent me this message (I hope you don't mind me reposting it, you-know-who-you-are):

You travel across the world to help refugees and thus inadvertently escape the apocalypse back home. I don't believe in karma or anything, but yeah. Karma.

Huh. I hadn't even thought of it like that.

I Heart Army Guys

Friday was our final day in Rajasthan. It had been a very fun three weeks, but all good things must come to an end sooner or later, and I did also want to get back in time for the end of the semester at Tibet Charity. After one last morning of breakfast and chilling at the hotel, we made sure all of our belongings were segregated into the correct bags and headed into Jaipur.

I saw Brij off at the travel agency where his bus was parked, and then I made my way up the main road to the train station. I had made plans to head back to Dharamsala the way we had come, via a place called Pathankot. The train would take me there from Jaipur (over the course of some 13-odd hours), and then I'd catch a bus back to the mountains and my home base here in India. Altogether the trip was scheduled to take around 18 hours.

People treat me differently when I'm by myself. In the case of people who want money from me, i.e. rickshaw drivers and shopkeepers, they usually hike up the prices enormously and expect that I won't know any better. In the case of most other people, they actually tend to be quite nice. As I made my way down the train platform -- with a bit of attitude, because you gotta at least look confident at times like these -- I scanned the area trying to figure out where I needed to be to catch my ride. I stopped to consult my ticket and an Indian man in his fifties approached me and offered to help. Seeing as I didn't have a whole lot of wiggle room on the clock and the last thing I wanted at that point was to miss my train, I let him. As it turns out, he was going to the same train. We walked down, down, down to the signs stating the sleeper cars would stop there. He told me he was going to Alwar (which I had never heard of, but I'd become quite familiar with over the next day) and that I should stop off with him and stay at his place for a while. I'd like to think it's genuine hospitality that motivates people to make these sort of offers, as it's not the first time it's happened, but luckily I was able to politely decline by informing him that I really did need to get back to Dharamsala and just for good measure, I said that my husband was waiting for me so I couldn't afford any delays. That usually works. Regardless, he was very friendly and gave me his business card, saying that if I needed anything I should call him. There's no harm in having contact info, I suppose.

Bye bye, Jaipur! It's been fun!

Train toilet empties directly onto the tracks. There are signs posted asking passengers to "kindly not use the toilet when the train is at a station." Note the handle on the wall so you can keep your balance.

Every time we passed through a town, motorbikes waited in packs at all the railroad crossings. It was still early in the day when I boarded, about 5pm, so it was too early to sleep. I took a seat near the window in my berth and contemplated my surroundings. The car wasn't too full early on and I was by myself, so I was less self conscious about practicing my Hindi. I asked the people around me where they were going and got answers like "Jammu" and "Alwar." They asked if I was going to Agra and I responded "Nahin, mai Pathankot ja rahi hun." They all nodded and smiled politely, but nobody tried to keep a conversation going. I decided to study.

Every so often the guy who said he was going to Jammu would look up from his phone at me; when his dinner came he offered me some, but again I politely declined. Once an old Indian guy boarded and gestured for me to get up so he could set up his bed (the seat I was using) and Jammu guy told him to take it easy, motioning to me to just chill where I was and not worry about it. Time went on and the sunlight faded; we all got into our beds and arranged our belongings as comfortably as possible. I caught a few of the guys in my berth (there were 8 beds in it, mine was on the top on the one side) watching me and held eye contact long enough that they'd know I had noticed. I heard people say "Pathankot" in conversation from time to time and couldn't help but feel like they were discussing me. As a woman traveling alone in India, there's plenty to be cautious of.

I settled in and tried to sleep. My stop was scheduled for 6:05am, so I set my alarm for 5. In India, the cell phone companies send their customers messages whenever state lines are crossed; not long after I got the "Idea [the phone company] welcomes you to Delhi!" message, I noticed the ride got considerably louder and the car began shaking. It passed, though, and I decided to go back to minding my own business.

Some time later I realized that the train had suddenly become much, much louder and was packed with people. The man in the bunk next to mine told me that we had to get off the train; there was something wrong with one of the wheels and we were stopped, waiting for a new one.

What he said seemed consistent with what I'd observed earlier, and everyone seemed to be getting off the train anyway, so I decided to trust him. A young man of maybe 25, sitting on the bunk across the aisle, told me in pretty-good English that he had pulled the emergency brake and we were stopped in Delhi, and that he and his friends in the next berth were soldiers in the Indian army. He patiently explained to me that we had to get off the train while they either fixed it or a replacement was found. He offered for me to stick with them, which I gratefully accepted.

Delhi's chilly in the middle of the night.

We hopped out of the train onto the tracks, them giving me a hand down, and walked down the platform until we were in an area that was better lit. Some time later, an announcement directed us to Platform 5; the army guys helped me carry my bag and made sure I was with them the whole way. They asked where I was from, if it was difficult not speaking much Hindi (toro toro, I told them, which means "a little bit"), and they told me it was their duty to make sure that I was safe. They asked my name; I have taken to telling people my name is Maggie because it's difficult for native Hindi speakers to pronounce Magda and the noodles with the same name are very popular here. It's quite funny.

When the new train finally arrived and the PA system instructed us to board, Sandeep (the young guy with the good English) instructed me to follow -- "chello, ma'am" -- and they got me situated in the new train car and bought me a cup of tea (vendors come through the train every hour or so selling the stuff. It's big in India).

Around 2am, some 4 or 5 hours after we had first stopped in Delhi, we were on our way again. I managed to sleep a tiny bit, but I was anxious about missing my stop even though everyone knew where I was going and I'd like to think someone would have woken me up when we got there. In India, there are no signs or notifications for where the train stops, you are just expected to know when yours comes up. Not being very familiar with the area (<<understatement), I was relying almost entirely on other people to make sure I got where I needed to go, especially now that we were so off schedule.

The sun came up and people folded the beds back into bench seats. Sandeep and the guys invited me to sit with them; when they busted out their breakfast of parantha and subji, they insisted I eat with them. The moment I was finished one of them handed me a bottle of water.

It was such a huge contrast to the way I'd been feeling a few days prior. Brij had given me a pep talk the other night where he told me that even for him, days were sometimes really good and sometimes really crappy. Blending in with the locals wasn't always a good thing; the way people treat you can change 180 degrees from one day to the next, he said, and you just have to try not to let the bad days get to you. I definitely experienced that. Whereas earlier in the week I felt like people were marginalizing me whether because of my race or my gender, on this train ride I felt an immense amount of love and respect from these people I didn't even know, like I had suddenly acquired half a dozen big brothers who were not about to let anything happen to me. As I thought about it, I realized that most if not all of the guys who had been paying extra attention to me earlier were also soldiers; rather than being creeped out by them staring at me I probably should have been grateful that they were staying alert.

My Indian army guardian angels. <3

When Sandeep asked what my opinion was of the Indian army I responded as honestly as I could without admitting too freely to my ignorance on the subject: all the soldiers I'd met had been very kind and helpful. He seemed happy with this answer. He told me that it had been a privilege to get to know me and to help me, and to speak English with me, and that he hoped we could keep in touch. We talked about all kinds of things and upon his assertion that "it doesn't matter what religion people are, we are all humans" I told him that was a very wise thing to say; he humbly accepted the compliment and I could tell he made a mental note of the new vocabulary word.

When my stop finally came up, 4 hours later than originally scheduled, they helped me off the train, carrying my luggage just as they'd done for many of the other passengers before me. "We want to come with you to the bus station to make sure you get there okay, but we have to get to Jammu," Sandeep told me. They were all on their way there to take exams so they could be social studies teachers upon retirement from the army. I thanked them for all their help, they took a bunch of photos with me, and we wished each other good luck.

From there I had to take a rickshaw to the bus stand and catch a ride to Dharamsala, which was still 4 hours away. The guy dropped me off on the side of the highway which I only allowed because there were other people there who confirmed they were waiting for the same bus I was. When it finally arrived (about 40 minutes later), I breathed a sigh of relief because the trip from there on out should be relatively straightforward. I eventually made it back into familiar territory, caught a local bus up to McLeod Ganj, and stopped in to Tibet Kitchen for some momo soup because by that time I had been traveling for a straight 24 hours and I was beat. Kalden was out hiking for the day but had graciously left his place unlocked so I could go take a shower and a nap before setting out to find a place to stay for the remainder of my time in India.

Mmm, momos!

First thing this morning, that's what I did. I elected to splurge a bit and have a place with wi-fi and a restaurant, just a couple buildings down from my former residence of Pause Dwelling. Only 19 more days!

A Small Feminist Rant

The plan was to leave Udaipur and return to Pushkar for the Camel Fair, because it sounded like fun and, well, that’s what traveling is all about, isn’t it? The sleeper bus was considerably more comfortable than the one we took from Pushkar to Jaisalmer; all parts of our bunk seemed to be more or less intact, and we ended the trip with just as much glass as we started. The driver shouted “Ajmer, Ajmer, Ajmer!” early enough for us to get our stuff together and make sure we disembarked at the right stop.

The usual swarm of rickshaw drivers met us as we stepped off the bus. One of them informed us that no buses were going from Ajmer to Pushkar after 7pm (which of course it was) because of the fair; you could take a car but it would likely cost a couple grand. After some discussion we decided to spend the night in Ajmer and head up to the festivities in the morning.

Ajmer is a largely Muslim city. Many of the women wear hijabs or burkas, the men are in caftans and those little beanies. Apparently there is also a law here that says any foreigners that stay in the hotels or guest houses have to register with the local police department. For this reason, the first few hotels we stopped at told us we weren’t even allowed to stay there because they didn’t want to deal with the paperwork. I’d been a bit irritated the last day or so because India really is a man’s world, so to speak, and it’s not uncommon for people to address Brij instead of me when we’re together. Sometimes I don’t mind this because, well, it is easier for him to do most of the talking since he fits in better, but even in places like the fancy hotel in Udaipur, more often than not we’d hear “good morning, sir” and I’d get a smile and a nod. At breakfast yesterday I ordered an espresso and when the waiter came to let us know it would be a few more minutes, he addressed Brij -- in English -- and never even looked at me. That kind of thing gets to me. Needless to say, I was already a little peeved and the blatant racism with the hotel situation in Ajmer was not sitting well with me. I suppose Brij was right, though, when he pointed out that it wasn’t just me: he has a foreign passport as well.

Still. It’s stupid.

Anyway, we wound up taking the third hotel we stopped at because it was getting late, we were hungry and tired, and no one else would even give us a second look. The prices were exorbitant because of the fair in town; they wanted 2000 rupees for a room that should cost probably 800 or 900 at most. There’s no wi-fi, the hot water barely passes for warm, and we’ve seen more than a few cockroaches climbing the walls. They’re giving us the runaround as far as pretty much everything; they kept changing the time we’d get our passports back, for example. It’s so tiring and irritating to feel like you’re blatantly being taken advantage of and there’s not much you can do about it.

Getting to the fair in Pushkar proved to be a hell of a lot more difficult than we expected also. After finally arriving at the bus stand, we found scores of people waiting to board the local buses to Pushkar. It would be cool to see the fair, but in the end we decided It was going to be more hassle than it was worth to either of us, and that we’d had enough of Ajmer, and we would just make our way back to Jaipur as soon as we could and chill there, where we had some idea of where we were and what was going on.

Luckily, buses leave Ajmer for Jaipur about once every hour, so we chilled at the hotel for a bit (waiting on our passports) before we headed back to the bus stand and then out east. Maybe I’m biased, but if you’re ever in Ajmer, Rajasthan, give the Hotel Neelam Palace a skip – there are bound to be more worthwhile places. I’m a little bummed that we aren’t making it back to Pushkar; I liked it there. Even though they had a weird set of rules that seem to be enforced pretty strictly, there was something charming about the place. I also wanted to pick up a new pair of shoes. Oh well.

We wound up hopping an afternoon bus to Jaipur and even got a room back at Chitra Katha, where we stayed our first time here. 

There's a definite comfort in being someplace familiar after the headache we just left. After a couple of days here, Brij and I will part ways and I’ll head back up to Dharamsala to finish the semester at Tibet Charity. I wonder how Gusti and my students are doing? I can’t believe my stay in India is almost over. In the beginning 4 months seemed like such a long time; now I’m in the last few weeks and it's so surreal. In under a month I’ll be Stateside, just in time for another delightful Chicago winter. (To be fair, I don’t think the winters are any better in Dharamsala.) If there’s anything you want me to pick you up from India, let me know because I won’t be here much longer!

Rajasthani Thali

Buses leave Jaisalmer for Jodhpur every hour, so it isn't too hard to get tickets. We decided that 3:30 sounded like a good time to go, since that would give us time to clean up but still reach our destination before it got too late.

It's getting to the point where five-hour bus rides seem like pieces of cake, hardly worth worrying about at all. We decided we'd be fine with regular seats as opposed to a bunk, especially since we'd be traveling during the day. The bus was more or less what you might expect from a local Indian bus: old and rickety, only moderately clean, and full of people.

Somewhere around halfway through the trip we were startled by a sudden CRASH of glass that seemed to keep going -- it was inside the bus and somewhere ahead of us. It sounded like someone had dropped a case of flower vases off the roof or something. When the last tink-tinks had faded, I peeked out into the aisle and realized that one of the windows on a bunk ahead of us had, somehow, fallen into the aisle. Luckily, no one seemed to be injured. The bus guys managed to get it (more or less) cleaned up before we had to walk that way, although I'm pretty sure I saw a couple of shards still scattered along the floor.

Jodhpur is a city. A big city. Maybe it's the fact that I was sleeping and had to be woken up when we rolled into town around 9pm, maybe it's the fact that we had just left the smallish town of Jaisalmer and come into someplace that reminded me distinctly of the bustling metropolis of Delhi, but I wasn't really feeling it. We got swarmed by tuk-tuk drivers as we stepped off the bus; if I were new to India and unfamiliar with the smallness of the Personal Bubble here I'd have gotten a little worried about just how tightly they closed in.

After some discussion we (read: Brij) struck a deal with the one guy and we were on our way to the hotel that the guys in Jaisalmer had recommended. The main roads in Jodhpur were noisy, dirty, and teeming with people and animals. Just as they always do, people stared at us as we drove past; apparently white girls are still uncommon enough that we're worth special attention. Normally I don't care, but I was tired and a little fussy and growing more anxious by the minute. In times like that it's really beneficial to have someone you can lean on and trust to just get you where you need to go. 

A few kilometers later we arrived at Baba Haveli, where Imran Bhai got us all set up in a room just outside the terrace and some dinner on the rooftop (they make a pretty kickass chicken biryani, FYI). He pointed out the local palaces, the fort, and the clock tower: the main points of interest in the area. 

Le Fort.

We were glad to know if we needed to go back to the future we had at least one of the necessary components close by.

We were pretty wrecked from the camel riding, so Jodhpur more or less functioned as a place to rest on the way to our next adventure. We did a lot of chilling and just exploring the town near the haveli.

We sampled some Rajasthani thali at a couple of different restaurants. Yum!

Friday we decided to check out the fort because after the clock tower (which we basically passed every time we went into town from our guest house) it was the closest of all the other attractions.

Boni, the Spanish guy we met over breakfast at the haveli, was on his way back from the fort as we were trying to figure out how to get to it, so he escorted us. He's a cool dude (and also a very tall one).

This old guy saw us taking photos with Boni and he wanted one, too. See? White girl is a spectacle.

Not sure why so much of the city below is painted blue, but it looks cool.

Sunset over Jodhpur, as seen from Mehrengarh Fort.

We did a little shopping in town and, just as I'd suspected, once I spent a little time there I got my bearings and didn't mind the atmosphere so much. Regardless, we decided to move on to the next city on the itinerary, Udaipur.

Waking up at 5am to pack, eat a quick breakfast ("You want cold milk with your corn flakes? How can anybody eat that?") and make a 7am bus across town takes it out of you. 

The bus stopped for a snack & bathroom break. See what's up in the corner behind the guy at the counter? Hint: if you're from Chicago you should be used to seeing a lot of them.

Something I've noticed about the bathroom culture in India: "ladies only" toilets are not uncommon, even if they just consist of an area hidden by a wall from the outside world, with a series of holes in the ground. Guys are expected to just pee in the open, whether it be in the bushes or, as we saw numerous times in Jodhpur, off to the side between some cars or against a wall, wherever you can find, basically. For all the gender inequality here, India does make some effort to make things a bit more comfortable for its women even if it is just through women's only toilets, seats on buses, cars on trains, salons, and the like.

The rest of the bus ride was without incident, except for at the very end when I woke up from my nap, pulled back the curtain over the window, and found that whoever was in the bunk above us had vomited all down the side of the bus. I was REALLY glad I'd kept the window closed.

We arrived in Udaipur yesterday afternoon and basically took the first hotel room we could find, at a place right on the lake called Hanuman Ghat Hotel. I think we're on the fifth floor, and just like everywhere except the fanciest of hotels, there is no elevator. I felt like I was climbing the Shinra Tower. Our door literally opens into the rooftop restaurant, though, so at least food is close by.

The view ain't half bad from up here.

Playing Catch-up: Rajasthan Edition

Ok guys, I'm back. I'm really sorry about being incommunicado for the last week, but things have been a little crazy here. Where did we leave off? Oh yeah, Jaipur. From Jaipur we went to...

Ajmer/Pushkar
Altogether we wound up spending 6 nights in Jaipur. We were going to leave after 5, but in the end we elected to take our time and spend an extra night so we weren't rushed for the bus trip to the next stop on our list, which consisted of the towns of Ajmer & Pushkar. They're pretty close together, only a short local bus ride apart (kind of like Lower Dharamsala to Upper), so we figured we'd check them both out at the same time.

The trip from Jaipur was a short one, only about 4 hours. Pushkar is a holy city of sorts, and they have a list of rules that are to be followed when one is in public. Our hotel had thoughtfully posted them beside the front door so everyone was reminded each time they left to go outside (remember, photos can be clicked to enlarge):

The city is known for this big lake with bathing "ghats" all around it. Pushkar is small and quaint, the roads are extremely narrow, and there are more dogs than normal roaming around outside. This was also the first time I'd seen pigs since arriving in India.

Seeing as how Diwali was going to be happening on Sunday and we had gotten ourselves some fashionable traditional clothes to wear for the occasion, I also wanted to hit up a salon and get a haircut, pedicure, and some mehndi. We roamed town until we found a place that advertised all of these services; it was closed, but there was a phone number on the sign. Brij called the guy -- whose name is Hanuman Sen, look him up if you're ever in Pushkar -- and within ten minutes he was there to open the place up, just for us. After a short discussion in Hindi that involved an explanation that generally in India, men provide services like haircuts and such to men, and women to women. He offered to take me to his house on his motorbike so his wife could work on me (if I didn't want to, she could come to the salon, he said). I figured this was a good opportunity to do something un-touristy and adventurous, so I agreed to the bike ride and trip to the house.

I was there around 3 hours altogether, I think, during which time I got to know Hanuman Sen, his wife Indu, and their son. They were all super sweet and told me to look them up if I'm ever back in the area, and to tell my friends as well. As with most Indians I've met here, they were extremely hospitable -- not only providing what I paid for (haircut, etc), but also tea and a snack, and good conversation. I got to practice my Hindi a little and she her English.

Yay mehndi! Total cost of a haircut, pedicure, and mehndi: about $20.

I'm not sure what it was, but I really enjoyed Pushkar. It had good vibes. After realizing that the Camel Festival wouldn't REALLY get started for another week, we made the decision to move on and come back. The first step was deciding where to go next, and to book a bus to get us there. We decided on Jaisalmer.

Jaisalmer
Five hours after deciding to go, we were on a bus to Jaisalmer, which is wayyyyyyy out west in the Rajasthani desert. The only tickets available were for a double bed on the sleeper bus. That in and of itself was no problem: we'd rather have a bed to chill on than try to sleep in bus seats. This was important, seeing as how it was going to be a 10+ hour ride. At the travel agency where we waited to board the bus we met Yune, a girl from South Korea who is traveling in India. She confided to me that she was a little apprehensive about taking this overnight bus by herself, so I told her not to worry -- I've never had any problems and besides, Brij (who speaks Hindi and is regularly mistaken for a local) and I would be close by and we'd watch out for her. She seemed visibly relieved.

When we got on the bus, we found out why ours were the last tickets to sell... the glass that provides a bit of privacy from the other passengers and keeps you from falling out into the aisle was nonexistent in this particular bunk. The window to the outside rattled, there was no handle on it, and in general it was just sort of a small, only moderately clean little box with a crummy mattress, but hey, it was still better than walking all the way to Jaisalmer. We managed to rig up a blanket in place of the missing glass and put down a sleeping bag to provide a little extra comfort.

That's ours on the left.

Let me point out to you that even though we are no longer in the mountains, we are still in India. The roads still suck. That bus bounced all over the place -- Brij and I were each almost thrown out into the aisle and onto everyone sleeping in it at least once throughout the trip -- and we spent the entire first hour laughing hysterically because really, what else was there to do anyway? It was an absolutely ridiculous situation. It was also the most awesome bus ride ever, and I doubt any other will be able to live up to it.

Awesome or not, it still wasn't all that comfortable. Bathroom breaks meant stopping off along the desert road and hopping out to do your thing behind a cactus; in order to get on and off the bus we had to basically Donkey Kong our way using the ladders over the dozens of people lying in the aisle. Adding to the authentic Indian experience, there was Indian music playing in the background the whole time.

Before leaving Pushkar we had gotten contact info for a guest house in Jaisalmer. The guys came to pick us up at the bus stop and we made our way through the desert city to the fort, which is where we were going to be staying. A real fort. Like, from centuries back.

The view from our balcony. :D

Feedback book full of reviews of the hotel patrons who had gone on the camel safari.

We are in the (fucking) desert!!

The city of Jaisalmer itself didn't really do much for me, at least not the first couple of days. The inside of the fort was very, very quiet -- only a few tourists here and there, and not much available in the way of shopping or sightseeing. (That all changed over the following few days, when for whatever reason there was a huge influx of Caucasian and Gujarati tourists.)

Regardless, we spent the first day resting, since the hotel had real beds, and the next day we went out and explored out of the fort, in the actual town where most of the people live and work. We got the rest of our stuff for Sunday, because Sunday was...

Diwali
Diwali is basically the Indian new year. It's a festival of lights, it's a big deal, and we wanted to celebrate in style. Sunday morning we went out into town to take care of our last few items on the list: a bindi for me, a shave for Brij, and scoping out a good place to go that evening. 

There are tons of rooftop restaurants in Rajasthan. We ate breakfast in this one.

Hanuman himself was out to celebrate Diwali!

After returning for showers and a bit of chilling, we busted out our new outfits and set out to show off in town.

Wrapping a sari is tougher than it looks. :/ But! There are sparkles in it!

We wound up going to the Nachana Haveli because it seemed appropriate -- Nachana is Hindi for "dance" -- and sat on the rooftop there, where we ordered the equivalent of a "chef's special" (we were feeling adventurous) as we enjoyed the live music and fireworks that exploded in the sky all evening long. It was an absolute blast.

Fireworks citywide from 6pm to 2am. Loved it.

Camel Safari
We had to get up early the next morning to be ready to take the jeep to the desert where we would meet the guys who would take us out on a camel safari for the next few days.

It wound up being Brij, me, and two of the three Israeli girls who actually went out into the desert with the "camel guys." The third girl decided once she got up on the huge, funny-looking animal that she was too scared to continue, and she went back to town in the jeep. Another of the girls decided a few hours in that she was too uncomfortable, and that she and her friend would only stay one night instead of the two they had planned. 

I'm continually surprised by the number of people I talk to here who make a fuss over the lack of comforts available to us. I guess I have just taken the "When in Rome..." approach: in deciding to come to India, I accepted that life would likely be dirty and more or less difficult. I chose to see it as an adventure. No one forced me to come here; I've embraced the simplicity and the crudeness, the fact that so much of life here is unrefined. I think it's this shared mindset that has led to Brij and me having such a good time traveling together -- we don't mind slumming it in cheap hotels, we prefer to eat at hole-in-the-wall dhabas (they have the best food anyway), and neither of us is too concerned with sticking to a set schedule or strict itinerary. It's working out well.

Babu Bhai with a couple of the camels.

Some kids from one of the desert villages we visited.

Me with a couple of the Israeli girls, Avichail and Shani, where we stopped to have lunch the first day.

Camel imitation.

Babu Bhai giving my camel a haircut.

Whenever we'd ask if something could be done, the response was "We are camel guys! Everything is possible!" Babu Bhai and Salim Bhai took great care of us ("bhai" is a term of respect that means "brother" in Hindi). They cooked and served our meals and tea, they set up and tore down camp, they kept us safe and made sure we had fun while we were out in the desert. We slept on bedrolls under the stars; since there was no roof and very little light pollution we could see hundreds of them. We even saw a handful of shooting stars, or something that looked an awful lot like them. I got practice eating with my hands (I'm turning into a real Indian girl, lol), and we sang songs while on the camels and around the campfire at night. It was delightful. I could have stayed out another day or two.

The last day in the desert we told the guys we wanted to ride a little faster. They were thrilled -- "Camels love to run" -- and so we galloped across the Rajasthani desert for a couple of hours before meeting back up with the jeep that was going to return us to Jaisalmer. The hotel let us stick around long enough to shower and chill for a bit before catching our bus to the next destination, Jodhpur....