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....

Embrace your true nature

I love video games.

No, really. I love video games. I don't play as much as I used to, and even in the past I didn't play as much as some people I've known. Still, I've been realizing over the last few months just how big a role they've played in my life. Earlier today I rewarded myself for a very productive morning by watching a movie. As I like to do, I chose one I knew nothing about: Wreck It Ralph.

Come on, doesn't this movie look like SO MUCH FUN??

Somehow this animated gem had eluded my attention until it was sent to me on a jump drive as a possible movie to pass along to my students so they could practice their English listening skills. It's not my first choice as far as that, just because I think they might have some trouble with the content – not much frame of reference for monks and nomads when talking about arcade games – but you'd better believe I had a good time. I think it might be one of my new favorites. It's got everything I love: an underdog as the protagonist, pretty graphics, a fun soundtrack, clever storytelling, and lots and lots of nostalgia. Brilliant! This, combined with the fact that about a month ago I was struck with inspiration for a game-inspired business venture that I'd like to test when I get home, got me thinking:

For as much as I really do enjoy the raw simplicity of living here in India, in a place where animals freely roam the streets, where you do your laundry in a bucket, where the power goes out at least once a day and people just go about their lives..... the technical wonder that is the world of video games really does hold a special place in my heart. I love the adventure, the intrigue, the chance to be anyone... and I suppose yes, you could argue that I am actually doing those things right now, “IRL,” but I guess there's a part of me that is still enchanted by the shiny packaging no matter how hard I sometimes want to believe otherwise. I mean come on, I'm also a belly dancer; you can't deny a penchant for glitz & sparkle is part of that. I love to perform. I love beauty. I'm an artist, dammit, and the four right chords can make me cry. Life itself is beautiful, yes... but sometimes, as the late, great Dave Scheidecker helped me argue in my OO freshman year, we need art not just for art's sake but for ours.

I have historically gone through bouts of feeling like my only gift was an eye for art, and art is ultimately superfluous, and therefore I couldn't offer anything useful to the world. One person in particular took it upon himself to valiantly try to convince me otherwise some years back, but I always had my doubts that art really is genuinely important. Or rather, I feel like when other people do it it can be amazing and inspiring, but my own work somehow always falls short.

Then again, that's part of being an artist. You're always your own worst critic.

I think I may finally be ready to embrace that part of myself. I went to college for a degree in Game Art & Design and dropped out after I decided I didn't want to sit in front of a computer all day (and that it would take an ungodly amount of hours outside of class to develop enough skill to be truly great at my work). “Games,” I thought, “are frivolous. We don't need them. When the power goes out, what good have I done?” Art doesn't keep you warm, it doesn't feed you. It's not practical. I should learn to build something instead, or maybe I should learn something medical. I should apprentice and get a technical job, maybe learn to build solar panels or repair wind turbines. That stuff is useful. Right?

I've tried a variety of those things, and I keep coming back to art. Art is what makes me happy. Creation is where I feel at home. Finding beauty in the world and then finding a way to express it so everyone else can see it too is what makes me feel alive. I still don't particularly want to become a game developer (although since I've discovered Steam and since Steam has rolled out their Green Light initiative, I do consider it now and then), but I think if I can find a way to let games back into my every day life, into my own creativity, I might be better off. And you know what? Maybe it's true that games and art and dance and all the other beautiful, fun things in the world don't truly change anything, but if they make us happy for a while and you indulge responsibly – as with any other potentially addictive but otherwise harmless activity – is it really so useless? Someone has to bring beauty to those who can't find it themselves, and why shouldn't that someone be me?

I still have dreams of introducing a responsible waste disposal system to India, and of course I'd love to see freedom for Tibet... I enjoy teaching and knowing that I am directly affecting people's lives in a way that could truly change the course of their futures. Maybe I'll keep doing that too. I need art for my own happiness, though, and if the simple act of watching a well-done animated film about vintage arcade games can literally bring me to tears, if my mind wanders during a lecture and all I can think about for days afterward is an as-yet-secret-project that is also very directly related to game culture, if every so often I can't rest until I've drawn my own version of an NPC because I think the devs dropped the ball on making that one boss as terrifying as she should have been... and especially if something I do can also bring beauty and happiness to someone else, and especially if that someone else is willing to spend some cash to get it, then why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I embrace my geekiness, embrace the fact that I'm a gamer kid at heart even if I don't actually spend many hours with a controller anymore, and see if I can make a living off of bringing joy to others like myself?

For some of us, games are not just a fun activity to do at parties with friends. They aren't (always) a waste of time. For some of us, games are a part of who we are. I've felt guilty about it and I've tried to deny it, but I've had some time for introspection since I've been here, away from everyone and everything I've ever known, and one of the things I've come to understand is that maybe it's just part of who I am. There has to be a balance, of course, but maybe the world of video games is not as superfluous and unnecessary as I was once convinced. Maybe it's a tool, a stepping stone on which to be inspired to create even more art and beauty and community. Maybe that's not such a bad thing.

My name is Magda Ksiazak, and I am a gamer. I'm an artist, a dreamer, and a creator. I'm through letting people, society, and my own self-consciousness tell me it's immature and something to hide, and I'm going to make it work for me. There is a whole community of us out there, and I think I'm ready to be proud to be a part of it.

Game on, my friends.

Dear Teachers,

Teachers, I am beginning to understand.

I won't say that "I do understand," because I'm sure I don't. I've been at this a couple of weeks now, but I won't claim to have joined the ranks of you who have been doing this for years. But I am starting to get it.

I am beginning to understand what you mean when you say that you work long hours, not just the hours you physically spend in the classroom. I am beginning to understand spending your own money so your students can benefit from better lessons. I am beginning to understand the responsibility you feel for your students, and the desire to see each of them succeed in the classroom, and outside of it.

I am in India, teaching English to refugees from Tibet. Their native languages (some students are from Bhutan, Thailand, and other areas in the region) are very different from English, and so they often have a difficult time with some pronunciations and vocabulary, not to mention the grammar. English is not a tonal language; theirs are. There is no "th" sound in their languages; it's pretty common in English.

Add to this the fact that I'm an American teaching from a British book, and it gets a little confusing.

What's even worse, though, is the fact that the book is not only written in a western country, it's written for western students. The other day we had a lesson in the book called "Practical English: On a Plane." I got smart and asked "Who here has been on a plane?" I was met with blank stares. A few of them shook their heads. So first I had to explain how it works: flight attendants and in-flight drinks and such. Today we had a reading about things that are "Typically British." I had to explain the following terms, because none of my students was familiar with them: pub, cappuccino, espresso, au pair, zebra crossing (a crosswalk), beer, Burger King, and "fish fingers."

So now I'm thinking.. yes, my students should learn what all of these things are. It will make them more well-rounded and able to relate to people in western cultures. But really? I think at this level the cultural gap just makes the lessons that much harder to understand.

We had our Unit 1 test in my Elementary level class on Wednesday. I had a few students (monks, as it happens) who did particularly well -- upward of 96%. I think they've studied English before. It was an eye-opener for me too, because I didn't realize I had to explain what "true and false" meant. I have been writing names on the board because most of the names in the book are ones you don't find here: my students are all named Lobsang or Tenzin or Lhamo or Tashi or Tsering; in the book the names are Marta and Marco and James and Allie and Alessandra. I don't think there's anything wrong with giving them "Marta = woman, Marco = man" on the board at the front, because if they respond with the wrong pronoun simply because they have no idea whether the name is male or female, that doesn't test their understanding of the English language. It was pretty funny how many filled the blank in "Is Magda Polish? Yes, _____ is" with the word "he."

Really, guys? Lol. Of all the western names in your book, I'd hope you'd know that one. And no, I didn't write the test; that's just the one that came with the materials.

I need to find some materials that are geared more toward an Asian classroom. If I can't find any, I might need to make some.

So Teachers, I am beginning to understand. The best of you really do give so much for your classes. I'm only teaching 2-3 classes a day, 4-5 hours total, and I'm feeling it. I can only imagine what it must be like for a new full-time teacher who is just building a stockpile of lesson plans and class projects.

We aren't supposed to make copies except of test materials; there is a sign above the copier reminding us that "all other copies are 2 rupees per page." I've been recommended to collect 20 rupees or so from each of my students to go toward the cost of copying whatever else I deem necessary, but I'm hesitant. Sure, 20 rupees isn't much. It isn't much for me, anyway. Maybe I'll do it and call it close enough, even if I go over it by the end of the semester. I just want them to learn. The book is good, I'm sure, for other students. For mine, though, it's not quite cutting it. I feel like I need to supplement. I want to go online and find articles, flip through books and find passages to use. For the most part, their understanding of grammar is pretty good, and their vocab is pretty impressive. Their reading comprehension is not so hot, though (generally speaking; of course there are exceptions). How are they supposed to improve their English, though, when they are reading selections that they wouldn't even understand the meaning of in their native languages? How can they focus on the language when there is so much else to process, to distract them?

Most of them are eager to learn, though, and sometimes they ask a lot of questions. Whenever we introduce new vocabulary they always ask for more words. We did body parts the other day and they kept asking "What's this? What's this?" pointing to moles and elbows and fingernails that weren't on the list in the book. I have had a couple of students come to me after class and explain to me that they won't be in class for a couple of weeks, usually because they have to go on a trip somewhere. They're not like vacations, they're like "my sister just had a baby and so I have to take over running her shop" or "I need medical care and it's somewhere that will involve me being gone for about 15 days" -- I just had a student come in and tell me that as I sat here typing this entry. I wished him well and told him to study so he wasn't behind when he got back, and he smiled and bowed a bunch of times and thanked me. I mean really, what else can I say? No, you can't go?

I also had to explain to the class on Wednesday that I expect them to do their assignments not because I'm trying to make more work for them, but because I want them to improve. I want them to learn, and learning takes practice. Sure enough, the half of the class that didn't have their assignments in on time handed them to me today. I'm determined to get these students to a point where they can understand and be understood, and I've only got a few months to do it in.

I think I've got my work cut out for me. I better go find some articles.

To hold you over until the next entry, here are some photos.

Old Monk rum, eh? I've never heard of it, but there are an awful lot of monks here, so why not?

Spices and hot peppers for sale.

Veggie burger where you can really see the veggies.

The tailoring shop where we bought fabric to have some pretty Indian outfits custom made. Total price for two full, elaborate salwar kameez? About $30.

The buses and trains here all have sections reserved for women.

Julie getting ready to eat some batura (sp?) and channa (chickpeas and spices) -- yum!

Joe and Steve, I saw this and thought of you guys. Obviously.

Bhagsu is still dirty, but at least they're trying.

This tattoo shop doesn't look sketchy at all!

Preeeeeeeeeeeetty... Bhagsu waterfall.

I feel like I'm on my way to Whiterun...