I Would be a Terrible Celebrity

As I traveled through Jaipur last weekend, a driver told me, “In India, everything is possible.”  It’s true --   as with the rest of India, Jaipur is a fascinating but intense place.  Jaipur is the capital city of Rajasthan, a mountainous desert state in western India.  Other than the pickpocketing – which turned out okay – it was a pretty good weekend:

•       After spending all day in a sleeper train – which was both awkward (I was unable to sit up for five hours) and very nap-conducive – I headed straight to the Pink City.  The maharaja ordered the old city of Jaipur painted pink to welcome the Prince of Wales in 1876, and since then residents are required to maintain the color.  First stop was Hawa Mahal, a five-story beehive-shaped building where royal ladies used to go to view the streets.  It looks larger on the inside than the outside, and it has some amazing views of the city.  Next was Jantar Mantar, an ancient observatory filled with oddly-shaped structures used to measure the stars and sky.   For a while I sat on the lawn in between the structures; it was one of the most unique places I’ve ever seen.
  ·         I linked up with the only other volunteer on my program in India, as I only recently learned of her existence.  We took a rickshaw up to Nahargarh Fort, up on a hill with a spectacular view of the city.  We were some of the only people there, though there were plenty of peacocks, some of whom were engaged in mating dances for their lady-friends.   Afterward we went out for Rajasthani food, which was delicious but hard to identify and very spicy.  I was so grateful when someone brought me curd (yogurt) to counter the spice, I literally blessed him.
  ·         My favorite stop was Amber Fort, another massive fortification outside of the city.  The building was incredibly impressive, with walls covered in mosaics and endless patterns of mirrors, as well as subterranean tunnels running to a neighboring fort.  Were it not for the massive heat, I could have stayed there all day.  Instead I picked an indoor venue: a historical art museum in Albert Hall, in the new city of Jaipur.  The collection was very impressive, but mostly I was happy to be inside.
  ·         Residents would approach me every ten feet and want to be my friend.  Often they weren’t selling something (so far as I could tell), but the intensity of the attention was certainly new.  It felt like the notice a minor celebrity would receive, only now for all foreigners.   The approach was always the same, almost verbatim: “Can I ask you just one question?  Why don’t foreigners like talking to Indians?”  Usually they asked me to tea, but I was also invited to ride on a motorcycle, to play in an elephant village (tempting), and to stay in someone’s home with their family.  It was sweet (I think), but they couldn’t understand why I declined.  (Him: “I get it; you don’t trust me because I’m Indian.”  Me:  “No, I don’t trust you because I don’t know you.  I wouldn’t get on your motorcycle in the States either.”  That didn’t make him any happier.)  Also, everyone wanted to take a picture with me.  My favorite:  “Can I take a picture of you?  Great.  Here, hold my baby.”
  ·         The trip back was mostly uneventful, until someone pickpocketed me on the metro.  After rearranging something in my bag, I almost immediately noticed that my wallet was missing.  Since we were still between metro stops, I knew my wallet was within five feet of me.  I started making a lot of noise, hoping someone saw something.  Fortunately a woman pointed out who lifted the wallet.  I started to frisk him as he stood there impassively.  The woman then pointed out that he dropped the wallet on the ground.  I grabbed it – with everything still inside – but I was pretty on edge afterwards.  He had lifted it out of the side pocket of my jeans – how is that possible?  
  ·         Pictures: 1) Hawa Mahal, 2) Jantar Mantar, 3) Nahargarh Fort, 4) Amber Fort

Punjabi Jordan

For my first field mission with work, I traveled with two colleagues to a small town around Jalandhar, Punjab.  Punjab is the only majority Sikh area in the world.  There was a higher number of turbans than in Delhi -- though not ubiquitous -- as well as impressively high rate of bejeweled daggers per capita.  (Carrying a dagger, called a kirpan, is a requirement of Sikhism.  I heard a recent story about bandits trying to rob a train in Punjab full of Sikh women, unaware that the women all had kirpans strapped to their ankles.  It did not end well for the bandits.)  We stopped at the market in  nearby Ludhiana, where we hired a couple bicycle rickshaws to show us around.  I'm going to go back to Punjab in a few weeks to see the Golden Temple, the holiest site in Sikhism.  

My coworker bragged that our train to Punjab was the fastest in India, which is why I was somewhat surprised when it showed up looking like something from a Buster Keaton movie.  Nonetheless it was a fast ride, and most impressively, they served more food than I've ever seen on a vehicle in my life.  At least four trays of food and three rounds of (non-alcoholic) drinks for a four-hour train.  I think that service is specific to that one train, but still, well done India.

In Punjab we met with an organization that assists bonded laborers -- people who have been forced into slave-like conditions after incurring a debt to their employer.  I spoke with several of the escaped laborers through a translator, and they told me stories about being beaten for attempting to take a sick day and other disturbing incidents.  Bonded labor issues only loosely connect to my actual work assignments (on caste discrimination), but it felt worthwhile to have some first-hand interactions while I'm here.

I explored more of Delhi this week as well – in particular Akshardham Temple, one of the most massive, ornate buildings I’ve ever seen.  (Unfortunately they don't permit cameras.)  Every inch of the building is a stone carving of an elephant or a Hindu deity.  The area surrounding the temple can best be described as a Hindu amusement park.  First there was a boat ride through 10,000 years of Indian history.  (Though as my friend, a Muslim, pointed out, it was a somewhat selective recounting of Indian history).  The boat ride gave India credit for inventing every field from atomic science to plastic surgery, which reminded me of similar claims from my time in Greece.  Next there was a series of animatronics scenes depicting the life of the temple’s spiritual founder, a 19th century swami, in what was probably my first experience receiving spiritual wisdom from a robot.   

Here are some pictures of Punjab (the street with the bricks is outside the bonded laborer organization):

A Few More Photos from the Weekend

Here are a few pictures with actual people in them, all from the first day:

1) Stopping for breakfast on the way out of Delhi

2) Mock fighting at the side of the road

3) Inside the Hindu temple, site of the 1857 revolt

4) Hiking down the mountain to our camp outside Rishikesh

Probably the Only Time I'll Jump Off a Cliff

I just returned from one of the most random, adventurous weekends of my life.  Here are a few highlights (I had to edit this down a lot):

• A friend and I – along with 9 other guys – rented a converted military van (which came with a driver, who stayed with us all weekend) and hit the road for Rishikesh, a town in the Himalayan foothills on the Ganges River.   The trip was supposed to take 6 hours each way, but ended up taking almost 12 due to traffic.  We stopped at a Hindu temple on the way, the site of the 1857 Indian revolt against the British.  The temple rituals were fascinating -- rubbing wood on sandstone until a paste appeared, rubbing that paste on a rock in the middle of an elaborate jeweled shrine to Shiva, and then pouring water over another shrine to honor the sun.  Don't forget to use your right hand.

• Our encampment was below a winding mountain road, about 1.5 km down the mountainside, across a suspension bridge.  It may have been the most isolated spot I've ever visited in my life.  There were a few small homes with some goats and stray cows, as well as dozens and dozens of langurs (monkeys) traipsing across the paths.  We stayed in a row of tents perched above a sandy white beach on the side of the Ganges.  (See pictures.)  Almost as soon as we arrived, I split off with two guys in search of a waterfall about 2 km away.  The waterfall poured into a small rock formation nestled between the hills and was full of Indian tourists.  A lot of my American friends complain about strangers here wanting to take their picture, but oddly, that never happened to me until the waterfall, after I took off my shirt.  I'm not sure what to extrapolate from that.

• While we were at the waterfall, the other guys from our group bathed in the Ganges.  They told me that the Ganges in the mountains is pure enough to drink, which they demonstrated several times.  Moments later, a family set up a large pile of sticks a few meters away and cremated their relative on the banks of the river.  "See that?" I pointed out to my friend, "That's why I don't think the river isn't clean.”   That night we laid on the beach, had some drinks, and stared at the stars, the clearest night sky I've seen since last summer in the Sahara.  My life has been very unpredictable as of late.

• The next morning, after a quick game of beach volleyball, we headed off to rappel down a nearby bridge.  The guide gave a five-minute speech in Hindi explaining in detail how to use the rappelling gear.  My friend then leaned over to me and, by way of translation, said simply, “Be sure to do it properly.”  When I pressed him, he continued: “Use one hand for steering, one for sliding.”  Ah, much clearer.  Once I realized that the guide himself had the power to stop any drop, I felt more comfortable climbing over the railing and leaning backwards off the bridge.  Somehow it all worked out.  Afterwords, we hiked back to the mountain road and hitched a ride with 20 people standing in the back of a pick-up truck.  That may be my most pure-India experience yet.

• At the next beach, we reached the main event: white water rafting!  None of us ever tried that before in our lives, which became readily apparent when six-foot waves crashed into our boat and smacked the sense out of us.  I thought I was headed out of the boat at one point, but somehow I kept it together, even as the waves flung our rafting guide himself from the back of the boat directly onto my head.  It was pretty intense.  I loved it.  The rafting ended with a stop to cliff-jump off a 30-foot rock cliff above the water.  At that point it seemed worth it to test the water; the jump was very much a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

• That night we stopped at an ashram in Haridwar, a holy Hindu city down the river from Rishikesh.   The ashram was full of people meditating in flowing robes, and everyone seemed very friendly and respectful.  It was a change of pace.  We sat on rows of carpets with hundreds of others while staff ladled various mixtures (mostly lentil or potato-based) from tin buckets.  "Don't forget to eat with your hands," one of the guys told me.  I looked at the metal plate and cup in front of me and told him that I didn't see an alternative.  Later, another guy told me that I'm "very adaptable."  That's one of my favorite compliments since I arrived in India.

Acrobats, Pelvic Thrusts, and Other Pieces of Culture

This has been a week full of Indian culture: a play, a concert, a wedding.  The play, on the lawn of the National School of Drama, was called “Old Town.”  I was sold by the impenetrable tagline:  “A Journey to a Time Beyond Time.”  That, and the fact that it was a carnival-themed production with glowing neon backdrops, including a Ferris-wheel manually operated by an acrobat.  And that was about as low-key as it got.  The play was a series of sketches where actors either yelled or sang angrily at each other in Hindi.  One group of actors dressed as marionettes attached to strings, others scrunched up their faces into scary mask-like shapes (apparently a dramatic tradition here), and one woman performed a 20-minute pelvic-thrusting dance that made belly-dancing look like church.  The performance ended with floating lanterns released into the sky, which was pretty amazing.  You never knew what was coming next.  Two lines of the production were in English, but they didn't make the story any clearer: "I can see the darkness from the back of the room.  You are my best friend."   Afterwards we went out for flavored milk and kathi rolls (kind of like an Indian burrito).  I loved the sign at the kathi roll restaurant:  "No racial, religious, regional discrimination, apartheid, or outside food allowed."  All important, I suppose.

The concert, a few nights later, was outside of the massive India Habitat Centre.  I think the event  was to support cleaning up the Yamuna River in Delhi, but the speakers were so vague ("we’re doing great work") that it took us some time to figure out the theme.  They showed several videos before the concert including, most confusingly, music videos of the band (while the band stood on stage and watched quietly).  Eventually the band itself played -- see picture -- music described as a fusion of “Indian folk and classical music with Western influences of reggae, and rock n roll."  The music was bouncy and upbeat, occasionally teetering on the edge of cheesy.    It was fun but so hot and crowded that we had to leave for an air-conditioned bar.  (Of course, the bar kept losing power – but that's to be expected here.)

Lastly, I attended the wedding reception of my co-worker’s son.  It was fairly low-key, as these things go, with less than 100 people in a hotel reception hall.   Everyone greeted the family, took some pictures, and sat in long rows of chairs along the sides of the room.   There were several hallmarks of a traditional Indian wedding: the dresses were amazingly ornate – see picture of bride and groom – and hotel staff served tray after tray of all sorts of hard-to-identify food (most of which I couldn't eat, sadly) and drink, which is how I ended up accidentally sipping buttermilk.