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?

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!

Sleeper-classing our way to victory

Brij is pretty much the dopest person like ever. (<< He even helped me write this post.)

He got us train tickets to Jaipur so we didn't have to take a bus the whole way from Dharamsala through Delhi and into Rajasthan. See? Super dope. Anyway, Thursday we said our goodbyes to D'sala and made our way to the bus station. It was only after arriving and asking around that we realized nobody seemed to know exactly when the bus we needed was leaving.

Notice the number of people sitting in the bus station... and then how many chairs are occupied.

We had heard 2:00, 2:30, 3pm... Just as we were getting into a solid discussion regarding contingency plans, this pulled up. 

I think this one goes to Pathankot!

A few hours of cramped bus riding later (the above photo was taken before it really filled up) and we arrived at Pathankot train station. Or rather, we got dropped off down the road and across a few sets of tracks from the station; luckily, there was an army guy on the bus who was also going to the train station, so he offered to escort us there.

Only the finest in amenities at the Pathankot train station.

So anyway, we nommed on some super cheap veg thali (40 rupees each) and eventually our train arrived; we had to run to find our car before it started moving again, but we figured it out. Sleeper class was fun, if loud and crowded, and we slept for most of the 13-hour trip anyway.

Brij has hookups, so we managed to get a room in a fancy pants hotel for the next two nights. It wasn't supposed to be until tomorrow, but we were tired and hot and hungry and didn't feel like dealing with searching out a hotel when we finally arrived in Jaipur, so we found a driver and rolled up to one of the most luxurious hotels I've ever been to in a rickshaw, laughing the whole way.

EIGHT pillow options? What luxury is this??

Sooooooooo yeah. We spent last night on tiny vinyl train beds, and tonight we swam in a pool, hung out in a sauna, filled up on free drinks and canapes in lieu of ordering an expensive dinner... and tomorrow morning there's poolside yoga and perhaps another visit to the spa in order. Rajasthan is great so far. ;) I'm all about having the "real India experience," but every now and then it`s nice to be comfortable.

Really comfortable.

Birthday Cake

Tibet Charity was closed today because the local Tibetan Children's Village school was having a celebration. This being an important day for the Tibetan community in general, a bunch of stores around town were closed, too. Gill, Gusti, and the two Danish doctors who recently arrived to volunteer at TC went; I had planned on going but wound up packing instead.

Because, you see, this morning Brij managed to get us train tickets to Rajasthan. I had begun to wonder if it was ever actually going to happen. It's official though – tomorrow evening we've got tickets for a train from Pathankot (we'll get a bus there from McLeod Ganj) to Jaipur, and from Jaipur we'll travel around Rajasthan for a couple of weeks before I come back to Dharamsala, Brij goes to Gujrat and then back west, and Marie, who is supposed to be meeting us in Jaipur, continues her journey around India.

I'm only taking one backpack with me, I think. This is great, except for the fact that it means I have to store everything else I've got in my possession here. It's not an ideal situation, but it could certainly be worse. I'm moving out of my room at Pause Dwelling because, frankly, I don't want to pay 2-3 weeks worth of rent if I'm not even going to be in the same state.

Speaking of not being in the same state, Gill headed back to New Zealand today; it'll be a little weird around here without her. She was the one who first showed me around McLeod, and we've grown to be friends over the last few months. Safe travels, Gill! Maybe I'll come visit you in NZ sometime!

Today was also Brij's last full day in town. The original plan was to return to the disco, but those plans fell through as we realized that Brij, Kalden, and I seemed to be the only ones who were actually planning to go. Truth be told, I wasn't entirely feeling it myself; I kind of wanted to just chill for what was going to be my last night in town for a while, as well.

Everybody's leaving, all at once... Verity, Gill, Brij... I'm leaving too, I guess, but I'm coming back. My students made me promise I'd be back before the end of the semester. :)

Anyway, Brij decided we should have pizza for his last dinner in McLeod. Om Cafe makes a damned good Roquefort/walnut/”chilly” pizza, so that's exactly what we had (along with an eggplant/herb/tomato pizza). Delicious, and for less than 200 rupees.

During his stay in India, Brij has become close friends with one of the local families who happens to own a cafe down the road. One of the sons was having a birthday party today, and they said that he had to go. In fact, they were waiting until he arrived to cut the cake. No pressure or anything.

He invited Kalden and me to come with him, making the argument that it was a party and likely to have dancing like the disco would, and since we had scrapped that idea, we may as well still get some dancing in and cake while we were at it. I decided to take him up on the offer, mainly since I plan on leaving some clothing here when I leave India and there's a good chance I'll leave it with them since they're friends of his. I thought I may as well meet the girls so I'd know who to talk to later on when the time came to make the drop off.

We arrived and they ushered us in, asking Brij why he was late. It's like he was a minor celebrity there, or perhaps more appropriately, a part of the family. They welcomed me just as warmly.

The birthday boy turned 12 today. I told Brij I had no idea how to sing “Happy Birthday” in Hindi, half jokingly, but he promptly started teaching me. As it turned out, we sang it in English anyway. I don't know if it's some kind of Indian tradition or just one in that family, but after the candles had been blown out, the birthday boy grabbed a handful of cake and offered it to each of us in the room while a woman, perhaps Mom, cut the rest of it into actual pieces. He got to me, held out his hand, and said “Auntie?” – I was touched. It's something I'm still getting used to here: “Auntie” and “Uncle” are what Indians call people older than themselves as a term of respect. It's kind of like “Sir” or “Ma'am” but it also conveys this sense of warmth, unlike in English. How could I say no to such a sweetie? Truth be told, the cake itself wasn't anything special... but the presentation more than made up for it.

Brij (|with frosting) and some of the girls.

After everyone finished eating, the music got turned up and the sisters started dancing. I got pulled up to join – which of course I didn't mind – and as the evening wore on I found myself giving an impromptu bellydance lesson. One of the girls in particular stuck by my side the whole night, mirroring every move I made. She's a pretty darn good dancer, actually, and I got her to show me a few Bollywood moves. They were all very, very sweet; I told them I'd be back from my trip in a couple of weeks and that I'd teach them bellydance if they taught me Hindi. Their eyes lit up – easy! What a great deal, right? They told me I was doing pretty well already, even though my vocabulary is pretty limited; apparently my pronunciation is good, at least. They all seemed thrilled to have made a new friend. I was even requested to make sure I was back in town by November 7^th so I could attend a birthday party for one of them... we'll see how Rajasthan goes, but I think I might try to get back for that. I may learn some Hindi and Bollywood moves yet!

Brij and I were the last guests to leave. It took us a while to actually get out of there; he's been around here for the last 8 months and everyone was sad to see him finally go. All the girls as well as the birthday boy gave us hugs goodbye, and he called me Auntie again; Brij even seemed impressed with how quickly I'd reached “Auntie” status. A couple of the younger girls insisted he come back next year, then that both of us come back next year, and by the time we left they'd gotten me to promise I'd come visit when I got back in town. I wish I'd gotten to know them sooner. I'll just have to make the most of my last few weeks when I get back to McLeod Ganj...

Planning for Goa

Tashi delek! (Hi, or literally "good luck" in Tibetan!)

Yesterday we realized that between Gandhi's birthday, teachings by His Holiness the Dalai Lama, and the more common but equally important weekends, we will have about 9 days off in a row coming up. Our little group has begun planning a trip to Goa, which I personally know nothing about aside from what others have told me. According to them, it's in the south of India, near (at least relatively near) Mumbai, and it's a beach town. City. Whatever.

Apparently it's the place to be in the summer. It sounds more or less like the Indian equivalent of Daytona Beach, or Cancun, or some other spring break type destination. So far it looks like the trip will involve either a) a 12-hour bus ride from Dharamsala to Delhi, or b) a four-hour bus ride to another city where we will catch a 10-hour train to Delhi, and from Delhi either c) a 40-some-hour train ride to Goa or d) a 4-hour flight to Goa.

Julie and I are leaning toward the flight option since it should only cost about 5000 rupees per person, which is less than a hundred bucks USD. Details will follow as they develop.

In other news, getting around Dharamsala and McLeod Ganj is tiring. In order to go pretty much anywhere, you have to hike. The roads are steep, and so are the stairs. "Shortcuts" tend to involve somewhat sketchy paths through the forest, often paved with old stones covered in slippery moss. Kalden navigates them with the ease and fluidity of a mountain goat, and Julie and I pick our way carefully down because we really don't want to, you know, fall off the mountain. Walking downhill for half an hour can be tiring since it's so steep, but walking up is, of course, even moreso. If you're the kind of person who uses a stair machine at the gym, you should consider a trip to Dharamsala. We have been eating cake, cookies, and Indian sweets nearly every day; we don't worry too much about it because we figure we work it all off by the time we get home anyway.

Remember how I said India loves Coke? Check it out... it's even made with real sugar here. GET WITH THE PROGRAM, USA!

Indian Coke is made with real sugar. By default.

We had palak paneer today at lunch. One thing I've noticed is the consistency is totally different from any of the palak/saag paneer I've had Stateside; back home you can really see the spinach in it, but here in India they put it through a food processor and it's this smooth green stuff. It was pretty good. I've always preferred mattar paneer, myself.

Smoooooooth... this palak paneer is the real deal.

Here is some info for those of you either not on FB, or who missed my post earlier in the week...
If anyone is interested in sending me letters or goodies from home, you can do so at this address:

Magda Ksiazak
c/o Tibet Charity
Lower Temple Road
P.O. MacLeod Ganj, 176219
Dharamsala, Himachal Pradesh, India

The address system around here seems pretty open to interpretation (I've seen the same address written a few different ways), but as long as you have all these pieces of information I'm pretty sure it'll get to me. I have no idea how long it'll take, though, so don't send anything that can go bad.