I’ve often marveled at the ability of Indians in this area to reuse anything and everything. They’ll reuse tea dregs, save plastic bread bags, and conserve aluminum foil by using it more than twice. In fact, their conservation efforts cross international borders. When you go to the market to purchase something, the grocer or shopkeeper will put your items in a paper bag for easy carrying. This paper bag is always recycled. Sometimes it’s newspaper, sometimes it’s just a plain paper bag, but often times it will be in a bag from another country. The most common ones that I’ve seen are Bud Light Canadian McDonald’s bags. But one bag that made it’s way to our kitchen yesterday really blew my mind.
John, Lakin, Emma and I were playing cards in the evening after dinner when Rajinder came by to drop off some groceries. I waved him in and just told him to drop them off on the counter for me to deal with later, so I didn’t see the packages at first. Rajinder left, and after the game I went into the kitchen to sort out the groceries. One of the purchases was a kilo of yellow split lentils, or moong dal. It was in a sealed, unused plastic bag of Meijer brand pretzels from Grand Rapids, Michigan.
How the hell did that happen? I think the strangest part of this international exchange was that it was a sealed package. As far as I can tell, Meijer had a lot of leftover, unused bags that they had to get rid of. Somehow they made their way to India and Palampur, were used to store fixed amounts of dals, and made it to our house just in time for seven Michigan students to marvel at their presence.
It’s like Palampur was expecting us to come, and sent us a “Welcome to India” message. Cool!
30 May 2010
28 May 2010
Friends, Americans, Countrymen
I’ve been by myself for so long that I had almost forgotten what other college-age Americans are like. Thankfully, the group of MSU students that has just arrived here reminded me how much fun they can be. They also have revealed to me something about the Hindi that I had been learning, and the seven of us together are learning how to make do with some necessities. It’s been an eventful first few days.
It started with everybody arriving at the house at 6 A.M. on Wednesday, thirsty for chai and desperately needing some hardcore rest after an all-night journey on a train and a bus, as well as a minor ER visit. Lakin apparently got rather sick on the first train ride from Mussoori to Pathankot, and they took him to a local hospital in Pathankot for a little bit of IV rejuvenation. It took a lot out of everybody, and after they had finished their chai, they all took to their respective beds and passed out for at least three hours. Shammi asked me if they would want breakfast at 8:30. Not a chance. Sleep first; food later.
The rest of the day consisted of unpacking and relaxing, with some lunch and dinner involved. This is when I found out that my Hindi learning over the past several months has been a little bit… how shall we say? Biased? Yeah, that’s a good PC word for it. I never took any Hindi classes, so all of the Hindi that I’ve learned has been by ear, from the people around me. I got really good at communicating with them and figuring out their pronunciation, how they use vowels and some common catchphrases.
The other MSU students, on the other hand, spent their first Indian week at a renown language school in Mussoori, learning “standard” Hindi. When they got here, I was using some of the Hindi that I knew to communicate with GSC staff, and also to see how their Hindi was progressing. Apparently, people in this region speak Hindi a little bit differently than in central India, or as compared to “standard” Hindi. Some phrases that I used were completely unintelligible to the other students. I guess that I learned a sort of a “country” dialect of Hindi. It would be like somebody from India travelling to northern U.S. states and saying “How y’all doin’ today, folks?” Yes, my friends, I learned how to speak hick Hindi. But hey, at least the people around here understand me pretty easily. That’s good enough for me.
Their first day here got even more interesting when the water stopped coming into the house around dinnertime. I guess that’s what happens when 7 people try to start living in one place. So no water to clean dishes at dinner (we had to use a bucket), and most of the new arrivals, fresh off a 12-hour journey, were not able to take a shower. Drinking water was limited as well, and all of those restrictions on an unusually hot and muggy day were not really fun. After breakfast, there really was no water at all, so the kitchen’s a mess and can’t be cleaned. I hate a dirty kitchen. Oh, and the main line is out, and it’s a holiday, so the city plumber won’t be coming anytime soon.
The upside of that is that we can’t take showers in the bathroom. Yes, it’s an upside, at least for males, because it only takes five minutes to walk to a gorgeous little set of pools fed by a river coming from the mountains. The water is clear and cool, and it’s a much more relaxing bathing experience than taking a bucket bath in your bathroom. Wade, Atul and I went today, and we certainly will be going back. That is, of course, as long as you’re not afraid of snakes. I saw one running away from us in that pool, but we went upstream just in case.
But of course, the best part of the day was dinner. Sitting down with a bunch of other Americans who have similar backgrounds as me was a truly great experience. After over four months of being alone in many respects, it was great to have some more people to talk to. The fact that I was able to use American English is just a bonus.
It started with everybody arriving at the house at 6 A.M. on Wednesday, thirsty for chai and desperately needing some hardcore rest after an all-night journey on a train and a bus, as well as a minor ER visit. Lakin apparently got rather sick on the first train ride from Mussoori to Pathankot, and they took him to a local hospital in Pathankot for a little bit of IV rejuvenation. It took a lot out of everybody, and after they had finished their chai, they all took to their respective beds and passed out for at least three hours. Shammi asked me if they would want breakfast at 8:30. Not a chance. Sleep first; food later.
The rest of the day consisted of unpacking and relaxing, with some lunch and dinner involved. This is when I found out that my Hindi learning over the past several months has been a little bit… how shall we say? Biased? Yeah, that’s a good PC word for it. I never took any Hindi classes, so all of the Hindi that I’ve learned has been by ear, from the people around me. I got really good at communicating with them and figuring out their pronunciation, how they use vowels and some common catchphrases.
The other MSU students, on the other hand, spent their first Indian week at a renown language school in Mussoori, learning “standard” Hindi. When they got here, I was using some of the Hindi that I knew to communicate with GSC staff, and also to see how their Hindi was progressing. Apparently, people in this region speak Hindi a little bit differently than in central India, or as compared to “standard” Hindi. Some phrases that I used were completely unintelligible to the other students. I guess that I learned a sort of a “country” dialect of Hindi. It would be like somebody from India travelling to northern U.S. states and saying “How y’all doin’ today, folks?” Yes, my friends, I learned how to speak hick Hindi. But hey, at least the people around here understand me pretty easily. That’s good enough for me.
Their first day here got even more interesting when the water stopped coming into the house around dinnertime. I guess that’s what happens when 7 people try to start living in one place. So no water to clean dishes at dinner (we had to use a bucket), and most of the new arrivals, fresh off a 12-hour journey, were not able to take a shower. Drinking water was limited as well, and all of those restrictions on an unusually hot and muggy day were not really fun. After breakfast, there really was no water at all, so the kitchen’s a mess and can’t be cleaned. I hate a dirty kitchen. Oh, and the main line is out, and it’s a holiday, so the city plumber won’t be coming anytime soon.
The upside of that is that we can’t take showers in the bathroom. Yes, it’s an upside, at least for males, because it only takes five minutes to walk to a gorgeous little set of pools fed by a river coming from the mountains. The water is clear and cool, and it’s a much more relaxing bathing experience than taking a bucket bath in your bathroom. Wade, Atul and I went today, and we certainly will be going back. That is, of course, as long as you’re not afraid of snakes. I saw one running away from us in that pool, but we went upstream just in case.
But of course, the best part of the day was dinner. Sitting down with a bunch of other Americans who have similar backgrounds as me was a truly great experience. After over four months of being alone in many respects, it was great to have some more people to talk to. The fact that I was able to use American English is just a bonus.
25 May 2010
Keys to the Kingdom
The biggest problem that we have faced with living and working in the new house is that we only had one key. I needed a key to get in because I live there. Shammi needs a key because he needs to come in to cook when I’m at KLB. Rajinder, another GSC employee, and Atul need a key so that they can let in the plumber, electrician and telephone guy to do work when I’m out. Since I’ve moved in, it’s been a barrage of telephone calls back and forth between four or five people trying to get the key for their own purposes. We needed more keys.
That’s easier said than done. Principal Ramdev has been trying to help me out by finding a guy who can copy keys, but we keep running into roadblocks. For example, one guy that we went to said that he only will copy keys if we can also bring him the lock, so he knows that he’s not making a key so that somebody can steal something. We didn’t want to remove the locking mechanism from the door and drive it across town, so that was not really a good option. Also, since other people keep using the key, I can’t take it to get copied.
On Saturday, I finally got a day when no people were coming in to do work on the house. Principal Ramdev and I drove to a locksmith that his friend knew. We met a small Sikh man whose name I never got that agreed to make some copies of the key. He gathered his equipment and we drove him to the house.
That’s when the magic happened. All this guy had with him was a small toolbox with several rough-edged files and blank keys. He took a look at my key, then proceeded to make four copies of it while we watched. By hand. This guy was good. For one copy, he didn’t even use a blank. He just happened to have several spare keys that weren’t being used anymore, and he used one that was similar to mine and filed it down until it fit the lock. Again, by hand. The most impressive part was that the copies actually worked better and turned the lock more smoothly than the original. I was extremely impressed.
Yet not all home improvement projects work that way in India. Just take the example of the electrician who came in on Sunday to do a 10-minute fix of one of the outlets. As soon as he got here, the power went out and stayed that way. Kudos to him for staying as long as he did, nearly three hours, just waiting for the power to come back on. In a different way, I was again extremely impressed.
That’s easier said than done. Principal Ramdev has been trying to help me out by finding a guy who can copy keys, but we keep running into roadblocks. For example, one guy that we went to said that he only will copy keys if we can also bring him the lock, so he knows that he’s not making a key so that somebody can steal something. We didn’t want to remove the locking mechanism from the door and drive it across town, so that was not really a good option. Also, since other people keep using the key, I can’t take it to get copied.
On Saturday, I finally got a day when no people were coming in to do work on the house. Principal Ramdev and I drove to a locksmith that his friend knew. We met a small Sikh man whose name I never got that agreed to make some copies of the key. He gathered his equipment and we drove him to the house.
That’s when the magic happened. All this guy had with him was a small toolbox with several rough-edged files and blank keys. He took a look at my key, then proceeded to make four copies of it while we watched. By hand. This guy was good. For one copy, he didn’t even use a blank. He just happened to have several spare keys that weren’t being used anymore, and he used one that was similar to mine and filed it down until it fit the lock. Again, by hand. The most impressive part was that the copies actually worked better and turned the lock more smoothly than the original. I was extremely impressed.
Yet not all home improvement projects work that way in India. Just take the example of the electrician who came in on Sunday to do a 10-minute fix of one of the outlets. As soon as he got here, the power went out and stayed that way. Kudos to him for staying as long as he did, nearly three hours, just waiting for the power to come back on. In a different way, I was again extremely impressed.
18 May 2010
A Day in Amritsar, and Bollywood Déjà Vu
That’s true, it was only one day. I know I was gone for three days, but Saturday and Monday consisted entirely of traveling on a hot, crowded, smelly, dirty and noisy bus. Two buses, actually. Traveling in India is definitely not one of my favorite things to do. In the beginning, when I first arrived, it was nice to look out the window and see something completely different, but it has since become commonplace, and I was confined to a twice-read book and sparse conversation with Kulwinder Paul, my traveling companion, to keep me company. Could have been better. Could have been worse, much worse, but also could have been better.
At least the food was pretty good. Actually, the best thing I ate all weekend was in Pathankot on Saturday, where we changed buses and had lunch. Shahi paneer was a fantastic dish consisting of a lot of paneer in a slightly sweet, creamy, cinnamon-and-cumin sauce, eaten with some of the best naan I have had in India so far. There were definitely worse ways that this trip could have started. Seriously, this one dish was one of the highlights of my entire time in India. It was that good.
Arriving in Amritsar, I was confronted with something that I have not experienced in quite some time: city life. It hits you in the face like a ton of bricks, and in India, it seems to come out of nowhere. One moment, the bus was surrounded by empty fields (the wheat harvest had been wrapping up these past couple of weeks), and the next, our bus was snaking and sneaking through an overwhelming traffic jam of cars, rickshaws, fruit carts and everything-wallahs. I’ve been in several different big cities on several continents, and there are a few things in which they all partake, at least to some extent: noise, filth, excitement, speed, beggars, business, money… the list goes on. India, of course, has its little quirks that separate it from others. For example, within five minutes of entering the city, I saw my first elephant since Jaipur. Three seconds later, I saw an elephant take a child-sized dump on the middle of the street for the first time since Jaipur. Gotta love it!
It made me think for a second about what kind of person I am. All my life, I grew up in the sociocultural middle ground of urban development: the quintessential suburbs. I knew of neither rural or city life, yet from talking to people, I learned that in general, there are two kinds of people: city rats and country folk (yes, I just used the word “folk;” get off my back). I never really knew which kind I was, but thanks to my international experiences in the past couple of years, I can now safely say that I am definitely a city guy. I’m not sure why, I just feel right when I’m in one. Even in Amritsar, which didn’t resemble any other big city that I have ever experienced before, at least on the surface, I liked it a lot. It felt right. Don’t get me wrong, I like Palampur, I just prefer cities. I now know that about myself. But in the end, who knows where I will really end up.
Back to Amritsar. My one day in the city started with a quick breakfast at the hostel that consisted of my first real American breakfast in quite some time: corn flakes! Hell yes! I also discovered on that day that Paul is a great traveling companion for me. He wanted to do the things that I wanted to do: walk around aimlessly without any sense of direction, just looking at stuff. He also likes food as much as I do, and I was so happy when he told me that we have to drink lassi, a chilled sweet yoghurt beverage, at least twice so that we can compare. Awesome! I also welcomed as many cold drinks as I could take, as it was quite a hot day. Amritsar is located in the arid plains of North India, not in the mountains like Palampur. Fortunately, the 40 degree Celsius day was a very dry one, and I grew up in Michigan where a hot day is simultaneously so humid that you start to sweat before you even feel hot. After that, Amritsar was easily tolerable.
We spent about an hour at the Golden Temple, which I described in my last post as the center of the Sikh religion. It was a very large marble complex that surrounded a large man-made pool, which then surrounded the Golden Temple itself. Paul and I went in the actual temple, as there was at least a 5-hour wait to get in, due to the massive number of pilgrims who came to worship. In fact, I looked around and determined quite quickly that I was definitely the only white person in sight. Granted, I know it’s not the most well-known Indian monument, but our hostel sheltered at least a dozen Westerners, so I figured that I would at least see a few. Paul and I tried to relax with our feet in the pool, but it was made quite clear to use that it was for religious cleansing only. A guard came by before we had spent ten second in the pool, telling us to get out. Whoops. I’ll be more mindful next time I visit a temple.
And that’s pretty much all there was to it. There’s not much else to see in the city besides the Golden Temple. We walked around a lot, had a decent lunch of food with which I was already familiar, and tried kulfi, a sort of hard ice cream that I wasn’t too fond of. It was a nice day, just not breathtaking. By early evening, we were both completely wiped out and headed back to the hostel to chill out, have some tea and snacks, and kill some brain cells with televised programming. It turned out to be the most interesting part of the day.
Paul was watching a Bollywood flick that was mostly in Hindi while I read a book. I was interested, so I asked what the movie, Partners, was about. He said that it was about a cool guy, played by Salmaan Khan, who is really knowledgeable about women and how he helps a not-so-cool guy hook up with a famous chick, played by the gorgeous Katrina Kaif. Salmaan gives this chubby, socially awkward nerd advice on how to make a good impression with Katrina, but it turns out that Salmaan seems to be losing his mojo with a girl that he is pursing. This girl is a reporter trying to write a story about this “date doctor” in the city, but she doesn’t know that it’s Salmaan.
Hmmm, this sounds familiar…
I looked up from my book for a few scenes, and one was shockingly familiar. I knew it. I knew exactly what was going to happen. The fat guy would try to kiss the girl, but lose the courage and walk off. Then he would stop, turn around, throw his inhaler to the ground, and run back up. But he wouldn’t kiss her. He would just pucker up and wait for Katrina to kiss him back. Then I realized that this was Hitch. It was in Hindi, and it had different actors and a slightly modified storyline, but it was definite Hitch. It was hilarious. Not only did Bollywood rip an idea directly from a popular Hollywood movie, but they didn’t even change the blocking or the script. It was, scene-by-scene and frame-for-frame, the same move that I saw in the states several years ago. Is Bollywood really that unoriginal?
Paul thought it was amusing at first when I narrated the movements and actions that were about to happen in a Hindi movie that I have “never” seen before, but I think he got annoyed when I kept doing it with every scene. I know, I know, I watch too many movies. I’m okay with that.
At least the food was pretty good. Actually, the best thing I ate all weekend was in Pathankot on Saturday, where we changed buses and had lunch. Shahi paneer was a fantastic dish consisting of a lot of paneer in a slightly sweet, creamy, cinnamon-and-cumin sauce, eaten with some of the best naan I have had in India so far. There were definitely worse ways that this trip could have started. Seriously, this one dish was one of the highlights of my entire time in India. It was that good.
Arriving in Amritsar, I was confronted with something that I have not experienced in quite some time: city life. It hits you in the face like a ton of bricks, and in India, it seems to come out of nowhere. One moment, the bus was surrounded by empty fields (the wheat harvest had been wrapping up these past couple of weeks), and the next, our bus was snaking and sneaking through an overwhelming traffic jam of cars, rickshaws, fruit carts and everything-wallahs. I’ve been in several different big cities on several continents, and there are a few things in which they all partake, at least to some extent: noise, filth, excitement, speed, beggars, business, money… the list goes on. India, of course, has its little quirks that separate it from others. For example, within five minutes of entering the city, I saw my first elephant since Jaipur. Three seconds later, I saw an elephant take a child-sized dump on the middle of the street for the first time since Jaipur. Gotta love it!
It made me think for a second about what kind of person I am. All my life, I grew up in the sociocultural middle ground of urban development: the quintessential suburbs. I knew of neither rural or city life, yet from talking to people, I learned that in general, there are two kinds of people: city rats and country folk (yes, I just used the word “folk;” get off my back). I never really knew which kind I was, but thanks to my international experiences in the past couple of years, I can now safely say that I am definitely a city guy. I’m not sure why, I just feel right when I’m in one. Even in Amritsar, which didn’t resemble any other big city that I have ever experienced before, at least on the surface, I liked it a lot. It felt right. Don’t get me wrong, I like Palampur, I just prefer cities. I now know that about myself. But in the end, who knows where I will really end up.
Back to Amritsar. My one day in the city started with a quick breakfast at the hostel that consisted of my first real American breakfast in quite some time: corn flakes! Hell yes! I also discovered on that day that Paul is a great traveling companion for me. He wanted to do the things that I wanted to do: walk around aimlessly without any sense of direction, just looking at stuff. He also likes food as much as I do, and I was so happy when he told me that we have to drink lassi, a chilled sweet yoghurt beverage, at least twice so that we can compare. Awesome! I also welcomed as many cold drinks as I could take, as it was quite a hot day. Amritsar is located in the arid plains of North India, not in the mountains like Palampur. Fortunately, the 40 degree Celsius day was a very dry one, and I grew up in Michigan where a hot day is simultaneously so humid that you start to sweat before you even feel hot. After that, Amritsar was easily tolerable.
We spent about an hour at the Golden Temple, which I described in my last post as the center of the Sikh religion. It was a very large marble complex that surrounded a large man-made pool, which then surrounded the Golden Temple itself. Paul and I went in the actual temple, as there was at least a 5-hour wait to get in, due to the massive number of pilgrims who came to worship. In fact, I looked around and determined quite quickly that I was definitely the only white person in sight. Granted, I know it’s not the most well-known Indian monument, but our hostel sheltered at least a dozen Westerners, so I figured that I would at least see a few. Paul and I tried to relax with our feet in the pool, but it was made quite clear to use that it was for religious cleansing only. A guard came by before we had spent ten second in the pool, telling us to get out. Whoops. I’ll be more mindful next time I visit a temple.
And that’s pretty much all there was to it. There’s not much else to see in the city besides the Golden Temple. We walked around a lot, had a decent lunch of food with which I was already familiar, and tried kulfi, a sort of hard ice cream that I wasn’t too fond of. It was a nice day, just not breathtaking. By early evening, we were both completely wiped out and headed back to the hostel to chill out, have some tea and snacks, and kill some brain cells with televised programming. It turned out to be the most interesting part of the day.
Paul was watching a Bollywood flick that was mostly in Hindi while I read a book. I was interested, so I asked what the movie, Partners, was about. He said that it was about a cool guy, played by Salmaan Khan, who is really knowledgeable about women and how he helps a not-so-cool guy hook up with a famous chick, played by the gorgeous Katrina Kaif. Salmaan gives this chubby, socially awkward nerd advice on how to make a good impression with Katrina, but it turns out that Salmaan seems to be losing his mojo with a girl that he is pursing. This girl is a reporter trying to write a story about this “date doctor” in the city, but she doesn’t know that it’s Salmaan.
Hmmm, this sounds familiar…
I looked up from my book for a few scenes, and one was shockingly familiar. I knew it. I knew exactly what was going to happen. The fat guy would try to kiss the girl, but lose the courage and walk off. Then he would stop, turn around, throw his inhaler to the ground, and run back up. But he wouldn’t kiss her. He would just pucker up and wait for Katrina to kiss him back. Then I realized that this was Hitch. It was in Hindi, and it had different actors and a slightly modified storyline, but it was definite Hitch. It was hilarious. Not only did Bollywood rip an idea directly from a popular Hollywood movie, but they didn’t even change the blocking or the script. It was, scene-by-scene and frame-for-frame, the same move that I saw in the states several years ago. Is Bollywood really that unoriginal?
Paul thought it was amusing at first when I narrated the movements and actions that were about to happen in a Hindi movie that I have “never” seen before, but I think he got annoyed when I kept doing it with every scene. I know, I know, I watch too many movies. I’m okay with that.
14 May 2010
And Now for Something Completely Different
Tomorrow, on Saturday morning, I’ll be taking a little trip for a few days. Atul is going to Delhi to pick up the new group at Indira Gandhi International Airport, and while he’s gone, I need something to do while I wait for the others. Why not go to Amritsar?
Located in western Punjab, Amritsar is one of the larger, modern-ish cities in India, with a population of about 1.5 million and boasting nearly 100,000 visitors on any given weekday. What’s so interesting about it that so many people go there? It’s the holy city of the Sikh religion, kind of like the Vatican for Catholics. The Golden Temple is the largest Sikh temple in the world, and all Sikhs see it on television and want to go there. It’s a huge, ornate structure that provides all kinds of religious services that I cannot even begin to understand, but there is one thing that I have heard about it that seems very interesting. It has a community kitchen, where anybody and everybody can go to eat for free. It’s staffed entirely by volunteers. Similar to the way that a Muslim is expected to go on hajj and visit Mecca once in their life, Sikhs are expected to volunteer in the Golden Temple for a week. If you can’t volunteer, or even if you can and want to give something more, they are always accepting food donations. That’s how there are able to feed so many people every single day.
Speaking of food, I’m really looking forward to experiencing a different kind of cuisine in Amritsar. It’s very deep in Punjab, which boasts some of the best food in India, and while there are definite similarities to what I’ve been eating for the past 4 months, it really is a completely different diet. Honestly, I don’t know much about the specific variations or courses to try. I just plan to do what I always do in situations like this: eat first, and ask questions later.
On Saturday morning, I will take a bust from Palampur to Pathankot, about a 4-hour drive, where I will then change buses and travel about 2 more hours to get to Amritsar. I will stay there until Monday morning, and come back along the same route to return to Palampur by Monday afternoon. Look forward to an upcoming blog post about delicious food.
Located in western Punjab, Amritsar is one of the larger, modern-ish cities in India, with a population of about 1.5 million and boasting nearly 100,000 visitors on any given weekday. What’s so interesting about it that so many people go there? It’s the holy city of the Sikh religion, kind of like the Vatican for Catholics. The Golden Temple is the largest Sikh temple in the world, and all Sikhs see it on television and want to go there. It’s a huge, ornate structure that provides all kinds of religious services that I cannot even begin to understand, but there is one thing that I have heard about it that seems very interesting. It has a community kitchen, where anybody and everybody can go to eat for free. It’s staffed entirely by volunteers. Similar to the way that a Muslim is expected to go on hajj and visit Mecca once in their life, Sikhs are expected to volunteer in the Golden Temple for a week. If you can’t volunteer, or even if you can and want to give something more, they are always accepting food donations. That’s how there are able to feed so many people every single day.
Speaking of food, I’m really looking forward to experiencing a different kind of cuisine in Amritsar. It’s very deep in Punjab, which boasts some of the best food in India, and while there are definite similarities to what I’ve been eating for the past 4 months, it really is a completely different diet. Honestly, I don’t know much about the specific variations or courses to try. I just plan to do what I always do in situations like this: eat first, and ask questions later.
On Saturday morning, I will take a bust from Palampur to Pathankot, about a 4-hour drive, where I will then change buses and travel about 2 more hours to get to Amritsar. I will stay there until Monday morning, and come back along the same route to return to Palampur by Monday afternoon. Look forward to an upcoming blog post about delicious food.
13 May 2010
Moving On Up
Sorry for the absence. There just hasn’t been much going on lately, not at KLB or anywhere else in Palampur. At least that’s what it feels like. Exams are wrapping up, so I will be able to start/continue my nutrition lessons soon. On Saturday, the next group of MSU students is arriving in Delhi, but Atul will be going to get them and take them to Mussori for a week or so. I’ll be staying here and getting things ready for their arrival.
That includes preparing the new house, which is now occupied, finally. We moved all of the stuff in yesterday, and that was an interesting experience in itself. There wasn’t much to move, mostly a bunch of miscellaneous kitchen equipment, my luggage and a fridge. Shammi hired a truck (which they call a Jeep) and a guy to help us move, which made me think that he just wanted an extra hand around. Not so. The guy came and moved the fridge (by himself; he was pretty strong for a little guy) and started making rounds from the mud hut to the main road, which was about 100 meters. Again, by himself. Atul, Shammi, his son and I just sat in the main room waiting for him to finish. I was feeling very uncomfortable. Even in the states, when you hire somebody to help you move or do some work, you at least lend a helping hand. Well, maybe that’s not a universal characteristic of U.S. culture, but it was at least the way I was raised. 4 people sitting around and doing nothing while a hired hand does all the work did not sit well with me. I brought this up to Atul, and he begrudgingly agreed that we should help shift. It got done much faster than it would have had only one person done it.
On the way to the new house, we picked up several beds and mattresses that had been purchased earlier. Unloading only took 10-15 minutes, but that’s just where the work begins, as anybody who has ever moved can tell you. It takes awhile to figure out where everything should go, and that only comes with living in the new place for awhile. Call me a nerd, but I get a sick little thrill out of figuring out the most efficient way of organizing the kitchen and putting everything in its place. Hey, at least it’s something to do.
It was a little disappointing to discover that some of the spaces in the wooden closets were rotting and probably a breeding ground for a whole host of bugs, and that the faucet in one of the bathrooms leaks, but it’s still a big step up from the mud hut. There’s no water heater (called a geyser here) yet, but that’s coming within the next couple of days. It’ll take some time to get the whole place up to par and ready to accommodate 6 or more Americans, but it’ll happen. I’ll be doing all of that fun stuff while the 5 other Spartans are in Mussori for their orientation and language courses.
Until they get back, I get the place to myself. Party!!!! Well, not really, but it’ll still be pretty relaxing.
Except for figuring out the light switches. In every Indian house or building that I’ve entered, there is always a smorgasbord of electric switches. At least 5 in each room, and sometimes up to 10. I’m in the main room writing right now, and there are 16 switches and 2 working lights. Why, pray tell, does a house in a rural area of a developing country need so many flippin’ light switches?
That includes preparing the new house, which is now occupied, finally. We moved all of the stuff in yesterday, and that was an interesting experience in itself. There wasn’t much to move, mostly a bunch of miscellaneous kitchen equipment, my luggage and a fridge. Shammi hired a truck (which they call a Jeep) and a guy to help us move, which made me think that he just wanted an extra hand around. Not so. The guy came and moved the fridge (by himself; he was pretty strong for a little guy) and started making rounds from the mud hut to the main road, which was about 100 meters. Again, by himself. Atul, Shammi, his son and I just sat in the main room waiting for him to finish. I was feeling very uncomfortable. Even in the states, when you hire somebody to help you move or do some work, you at least lend a helping hand. Well, maybe that’s not a universal characteristic of U.S. culture, but it was at least the way I was raised. 4 people sitting around and doing nothing while a hired hand does all the work did not sit well with me. I brought this up to Atul, and he begrudgingly agreed that we should help shift. It got done much faster than it would have had only one person done it.
On the way to the new house, we picked up several beds and mattresses that had been purchased earlier. Unloading only took 10-15 minutes, but that’s just where the work begins, as anybody who has ever moved can tell you. It takes awhile to figure out where everything should go, and that only comes with living in the new place for awhile. Call me a nerd, but I get a sick little thrill out of figuring out the most efficient way of organizing the kitchen and putting everything in its place. Hey, at least it’s something to do.
It was a little disappointing to discover that some of the spaces in the wooden closets were rotting and probably a breeding ground for a whole host of bugs, and that the faucet in one of the bathrooms leaks, but it’s still a big step up from the mud hut. There’s no water heater (called a geyser here) yet, but that’s coming within the next couple of days. It’ll take some time to get the whole place up to par and ready to accommodate 6 or more Americans, but it’ll happen. I’ll be doing all of that fun stuff while the 5 other Spartans are in Mussori for their orientation and language courses.
Until they get back, I get the place to myself. Party!!!! Well, not really, but it’ll still be pretty relaxing.
Except for figuring out the light switches. In every Indian house or building that I’ve entered, there is always a smorgasbord of electric switches. At least 5 in each room, and sometimes up to 10. I’m in the main room writing right now, and there are 16 switches and 2 working lights. Why, pray tell, does a house in a rural area of a developing country need so many flippin’ light switches?
04 May 2010
Freshly Shorn
After 3 months, I’m used to having people stare at me, but today, it was for a different reason. Yesterday I got a haircut and had all of my hair shaved off, because that’s the way I normally look when I’m in the states. I like it because it’s clean, cool (as in not too warm), and easy to take care of. I especially like it because I have my own mechanical clippers at home, which means that I never have to shell out 15 bucks for a haircut. Unfortunately, I neglected to bring those clippers to India with me, so I had just been letting my hair grow out. It had gotten a bit too long and messy, so I decided that it was high time to go back to the basics.
The haircut cost 30 rupees (about 75 U.S. cents) and took 5 minutes. During that time, the barber was asking me about the states and why I decided to come to India. I also told him that a haircut in the states costs the equivalent of about 700-800 rupees, and that’s for the cheap one. He couldn’t believe that some rich people would spend upwards of 80, 90, or 100 USD just to get their hair cut.
This morning at KLB, several teachers were asking me if my parents died. Turns out that it is customary for Indian men to shave their heads when a parent passes away. That’s not to say that nobody here has a shaved head just because they like it, but usually those people ask their parents first if it is okay.
Sorry, Mom and Dad, for not asking permission to get my hair cut. But at least be happy to know that there are several people in Palampur who are glad to hear that neither of you have recently died. That’s something, isn’t it?
The haircut cost 30 rupees (about 75 U.S. cents) and took 5 minutes. During that time, the barber was asking me about the states and why I decided to come to India. I also told him that a haircut in the states costs the equivalent of about 700-800 rupees, and that’s for the cheap one. He couldn’t believe that some rich people would spend upwards of 80, 90, or 100 USD just to get their hair cut.
This morning at KLB, several teachers were asking me if my parents died. Turns out that it is customary for Indian men to shave their heads when a parent passes away. That’s not to say that nobody here has a shaved head just because they like it, but usually those people ask their parents first if it is okay.
Sorry, Mom and Dad, for not asking permission to get my hair cut. But at least be happy to know that there are several people in Palampur who are glad to hear that neither of you have recently died. That’s something, isn’t it?
01 May 2010
Indian Vogue
Women around here have a lot of clothes. And I mean a lot. In the states, I’m used to most of the women that I know enjoying lots of different outfits and shopping for clothes. It’s only natural, and I can’t blame them for it. I’m entirely the opposite. I pride myself on having a very plain, basic wardrobe. One time I went to Express and bought a solid black t-shirt. I liked it so much that I went back the next week and bought 5 more. And that’s the way (uh-huh uh-huh) I like it.
I was reminded of the differences between me and the women here when one of the teachers with whom I’m friendly, Monica, walked into the office and we chatted for a short while. Then I realized that I can’t remember her wearing the same outfit more than once. That’s not to say that she never has, but it does mean that she, and many other women that I know here, have so many that they infrequently wear the same thing twice. They really like it. I’m also used to many of the women in my life having 2-3 outfits, t-shirts or bottoms that they really like more than others. They tend to wear them frequently. Again, not the case here.
At least clothes here are really cheap. When Agata came in January, she wanted to get some Indian clothes to fit in better, because while it is perfectly acceptable for men to wear Western clothes here, most women do not. Here, one is able to go to one store, purchase the material that they like, take it to another store for measuring, and pick up a tailor-made outfit the next day. Agata bought two of these outfits, and it cost her less than 1500 rupees (about 30 USD). Quite a steal, and she was even overpaying a bit.
I’m not saying that there aren’t any women like that in the states. In fact, if I grew up in a more “in style” place like New York or Chicago, or if I was of a different temperament and had a different set of friends, I might not even notice the difference. It just seems strange to me for all these people in a relatively poor town, leading very simple lives, to devote a comparatively large percentage of their time and income on clothing. Personally, I think there are better things on which you can spend money.
But I probably have no room to talk, seeing as I’m the guy whose spending money in India mostly goes to buying ingredients to make unusual food for Indians who have never tasted anything like it before. To each their own.
I was reminded of the differences between me and the women here when one of the teachers with whom I’m friendly, Monica, walked into the office and we chatted for a short while. Then I realized that I can’t remember her wearing the same outfit more than once. That’s not to say that she never has, but it does mean that she, and many other women that I know here, have so many that they infrequently wear the same thing twice. They really like it. I’m also used to many of the women in my life having 2-3 outfits, t-shirts or bottoms that they really like more than others. They tend to wear them frequently. Again, not the case here.
At least clothes here are really cheap. When Agata came in January, she wanted to get some Indian clothes to fit in better, because while it is perfectly acceptable for men to wear Western clothes here, most women do not. Here, one is able to go to one store, purchase the material that they like, take it to another store for measuring, and pick up a tailor-made outfit the next day. Agata bought two of these outfits, and it cost her less than 1500 rupees (about 30 USD). Quite a steal, and she was even overpaying a bit.
I’m not saying that there aren’t any women like that in the states. In fact, if I grew up in a more “in style” place like New York or Chicago, or if I was of a different temperament and had a different set of friends, I might not even notice the difference. It just seems strange to me for all these people in a relatively poor town, leading very simple lives, to devote a comparatively large percentage of their time and income on clothing. Personally, I think there are better things on which you can spend money.
But I probably have no room to talk, seeing as I’m the guy whose spending money in India mostly goes to buying ingredients to make unusual food for Indians who have never tasted anything like it before. To each their own.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)