Duschyant, We Love You

Today was eventful, to say the least. One might think I’d choose to write about visiting the Taj Mahal at sunrise, or the huge breakfast I consumed afterwards (an omelette half the size of the plate filled with tomatoes and onions, a gigantic pancake wrapped around a banana with chocolate poured on top, and two pieces of toast), shocking the tour guide. He thought I couldn’t do it. How silly, I can out-eat him, why is he doubting. I could write about how as I sit here typing this up, all but one person out of the entire group is down here in the lobby abusing the rarity of wifi.

But no, that’s not what I’m going to write about. I’m instead going to tell you why our guide is quietly sitting in the corner of a couch down here with all of us, punching away at the screen of his phone. I’m going to tell you why he is soaking up the time with us instead of retiring to his room, per usual.

That would be because today, as I was walking back to the hotel alone and most of the group was heading into McDonald’s for lunch, our guide—the sweetest and best one around, FYI—was locked in the bus by the drivers and beaten up.

I swear, everyone says that India is such a gentle country, that the people are not violent. And I have found that to be true: except for the violence I’ve witnessed and/or heard about. I am trying to believe these are exceptions to the general rule. I think I do believe that. But I just don’t understand why I’m seeing it so much.

Our guide’s name is Duschyant. I was not with the group after he came in when it happened, I was back here at the hotel. But apparently he was shaking and crying and obviously upset. He said no one had ever threatened him the way the bus drivers had, much less had a fist raised at him. Essentially what happened was that the bus drivers wanted to take us to places where they would get a kick back if we bought anything. The bus drivers are hired by the tour company, so obviously Duschyant wasn’t going to be okay with that or let it happen. So the drivers had been threatening Duschyant without any of us knowing.

And today they actually pulled him in the bus, locked him in, and started kicking, hitting, slapping him. One got a stick and beat him with that.

It’s absolutely infuriating and sickening. All for money. In addition to assaulting him, they also stole the 7000 rupees (about 160$) in his wallet. The funny thing is that Duschyant had already talked to us about tipping them nicely tomorrow, our last day being driven around by them. Now they are getting no money from us and will hopefully lose their jobs.

I was so glad to hear that the group could give Duschyant some comfort and help him through it. They came back to the hotel after lunch and someone gave him half a sleeping pill. He rested and then we went to dinner because he said he wanted to be with us. That would be why he is still down here, talking to everyone and interacting. I think he’s afraid to be alone and I don’t blame him for a second. Everyone is taking their computers over to show him pictures of their families, friends, cats and dogs. Homes. Countries. Even pictures from this trip. And he just takes it all in.

He had ice cream at dinner to make himself feel better. I just want to give him a hug and then go scream.

On our way to dinner, the drivers actually came up to us and tried to get us to go on their bus. Duschyant had other cars for us to take, but they still hovered. One of the loudmouths of the group said to one of them, “Please go away, we do not want you around.” Never loved that girl more.

I rode in the back of the car with the man from Portugal. He’s the quietest out of everyone, even me, but he was visibly upset by the drivers expecting us to go with them and told me that was ridiculous. His wife was the one who told me what had happened, and she said she’d actually had to calm her husband down because he was ready to go fight back. I’m glad that didn’t happen, but I’m proud of these people. I’m proud to be a part of them and I’m proud of the fact that this is so upsetting to everyone. I’m proud that Duschyant wants to be around us, that we give some kind of comfort or maybe (hopefully) a slight feeling of being protected. That we would defend him. If any of us had known he was being threatened by them earlier in the week, we would not have left him alone with the drivers.

Tonight was the first night that I really opened up to one of the younger women in the group, and it felt sort of wonderful. It’s been a week that we’ve been together, tomorrow. This tour is already half over and I’m going to be sad to say goodbye. We’ve become a little family and today only solidified that.

Turns out the moral law—code, nature, whatever you want to call it—is universal. Regardless of color, age, sex, or culture, today we all gathered round to defend and protect someone who had been wronged gravely.

That is the way things are meant to be.

Over Halfway

We arrived in Agra about an hour ago. It's been getting progressively hotter as we go, which was expected but still not quite prepared for. I never know the exact temperature but maybe that's best because why would anyone actually want to know when it's 115 outside.

Tomorrow morning we're getting up around 4:30 to go to the Taj Mahal for sunrise. Gotta make sure my camera is charged because I'm sure it will be beautiful.

Right now I'm sitting in the lobby, between two people from our group. Which is fantastic, by the way. Two women friends from England, one woman on her own from England, another woman on her own from Scotland, a man by himself from Florida (the only other American, sweet), two women friends, one from Canada the other from New Zealand, and a couple, the woman from Canada the man from Portugal. It's amazing, all of their stories.

The air conditioning doesn't feel like it's on, so I'm all sticky with sweat but that's normal by now. It will be sort of shocking to be able to take a shower and not feel gross immediately afterwards.

Which reminds me, last night before taking my shower I found this little bug thing that looked like a scorpion but was too small to be one. Lee wouldn't kill it and I didn't really want him to, but he just shooed it away, as if that was really going to bring me any comfort.

One terrible habit I've picked up on this trip is that I gorge myself whenever food is available. At home, I eat a little bit all day long, but here we eat three times a day, like normal people. But I find myself hungry all the time, because it's not natural for me to eat one big meal and then wait five hours. Also, there is a tendency of the food not being enough for me, given that I eat enough to weigh about eight hundred pounds. So whenever we're in a setting where I can have seconds, I usually have seconds and thirds and then end up feeling sick and looking pregnant. But then five hours later I'm starving again. I hate it and I can't wait to eat until I'm content, not stuffed, because I won't have to worry about being hungry all the time.

How blessed am I, that even when I might be feeling hungry, I've still had food that day. I get to complain about the fact that I'm not eating the way that I like. It's not as if I'm not eating, like so many people here. I'm in India, that's all there is to say.

So here is a picture of Lee to prove he is still on this trip with me, and because my battery is running out and I'm going to try and find some food to inhale.

Bollywood Anticipation

We are leaving in an hour and a half for the movie theatre. It is the largest, most crowded, and also apparently most beautiful theatre in all of India. It is a two and a half hour film so there will be a ten minute break in the middle. It already sounds so bizarre to me. But it will be air conditioned, there will be junk food, and I won't understand a word. I honestly cannot wait.

On the five hour bus ride into Jaipur yesterday morning, I was thinking about how I'm excited to start traveling on my own. Not that I haven't enjoyed traveling with Lee---I truly have---but I'm also looking forward to branching out on my own. Nothing against Lee, or anyone else for that matter, but just the idea of going, doing, seeing, and learning on my own makes me jittery with excitement. I started thinking about how I'm so determined to be independent and questioning why that is.

People expected Lee to go everywhere with me in Baga, and that actually bothered me. The day we went to the beach, he left before I did, so I ended up at the beach by myself for a bit, and then walked back on my own. When I got back, the guys at the bar were all shocked when they asked where I'd been and I said the beach. "Alone?!"

"Yes, alone."

The idea of needing a man with me at all times for the sake of protection---or anything, really---is actually quite infuriating. As soon as you tell me I can't do something on my own, I'm going to be determined to prove you wrong. Especially in such a male-driven society as this one, when they are allowed to do as they please and the women are just supposed to be quiet. You see, that only encourages me further to prove something. What am I proving though? Probably nothing, in reality, but it still feels important.

It's so strange for me, interacting with the people here. It has always been easier for me to get along with males rather than females, probably because of my brothers. But in this culture, I'm being told and shown that things don't work that way here. I don't mean to sound disrespectful with what I'm about to say, but I just continue on my way, being exactly who I am. And for this trip, that means that I'm sorry if it inconveniences them, but I'm not going to be intimidated by the differences.

While staring out my window and listening to rap to remind me of home (how silly), I tried to figure out why I feel the need to prove myself. I think a lot of it comes from the fact that I don't have a healthy father figure. I mean really, none. Lee is my uncle, not my father. My uncles on my dad's side are hardly even their own proper roles, much less a fatherly one. I know that Justin takes a lot of that on, and it comes out in his protectiveness. I try to remind him that he is my big brother and he can always be that, but he loves me and cares so of course he tries to fill the spaces that he knows are empty.

But my brothers are my brothers, and they are the ones I have to thank. They are the ones who've taught me all that I know about what it means to be a man. So instead of wallowing in the fact that I am such a cliche with my overused daddy issues, I'm just going to accept the fact that it's turned me into someone desperate for independence. Someone unafraid. Someone capable. Sure it's caused a few problems, but I don't want to view it as a part of my life that's missing. Instead, I just look at the people who've stepped up and filled it.

So much for writing things people actually want to read. I guess I'm just trying to keep up with all the things I'm learning and seeing and feeling, and that feels important. However, I realize I am not giving proper dedication to India itself. That's what the pictures will be for later, but even then, ultimately, you won't understand until you get here.

Now, I'm off to dream of the chocolate I'll have and rest before yet another crazy Indian experience takes place in the form of a Bollywood film.

Delhi is like Mumbai

In the sense that there are people, everywhere. But I felt better able to handle it after having a heavenly eight days in Goa.

And it's nearly time to leave Delhi, because in the morning we're leaving for Jaipur. The heat here was nowhere close to as bad as I expected. Goa was so humid that this heat feels like nothing. Maybe when we get to some of the hotter cities I will feel like death, but for now it's not so bad.

As I was bouncing violently around in the back of an auto-rickshaw, I realized that I never want this to end. The experience, the learning, the challenges, I never want that to end. Of course I am looking forward to going home in a way, but I am loving every minute of being here. I am so incredibly blessed to be able to go on this month long adventure, and it's sparked something in me that may never go out. I want to be like the people I've met. I want to travel and go and do. I want to go home and take breaks and live and feel able to breathe, but I also realize that this is important to me.

Maybe I will try to write things people might actually want to read later on, but for now you get my half-thought-out, totally-heartfelt realizations.

I-never-want-to-stop-traveling-even-though-what-I-feel-right-now-is-alone

So many conflicting emotions at the moment.

I guess all there is to say is that we arrived safely in Delhi and this trip is nearing the halfway mark.

Bye Baga

Tomorrow we leave Baga, the city we've been staying in. We'll take an hour long drive to the airport, where we will catch a two hour flight to Delhi.

My feelings towards this adventure, the people, this place, everything has changed since Mumbai. And what's interesting is that a lot of Goans I've talked to that have visited Mumbai hated it as well. I feel like I fit in here, even though nothing could be further from the truth.

We saw Delia's house last night for the first time, very briefly. We then went out with one of her good friends Ferosa, to an Italian restaurant. I didn't know it at first, but Delia picked Italian for me, knowing I don't want Indian food nonstop. She is so incredibly sweet. Last night was the first time I got to speak to her individually, as Lee and Ferosa were learning about how the other got into psychotherapy, since they both practice. All throughout my questioning Delia about what it's like here, her life in general, and herself, she would gently touch my arm or face. It was absolutely the maternal sweetness, pureness that I didn't know I had been missing so much.

No one hugs here. Coming from a family of huggers, this is difficult to wrap my head around. Greeting someone? Handshake. Saying goodbye? Handshake. The end. I asked someone at the beach yesterday why that is, and he couldn't give me an answer. I think it is in part for the sake of modesty, and women not wanting their breasts to touch someone else, so the guy I asked may have been embarrassed to give me an answer. But the men interacting with other men seem much more free. They can stand closer, they can hit one another, they can get the physical touch that people need to cope. I don't know, I can't figure it out, the dynamics of the gender roles in this culture. I'll ask Ali about it, I think he'd try to explain it. Delia talked on and on the other night about how her Indian students are so stiff with their bodies. They don't want to move or break the mold as she talks about it, the plaster that is their body. They just don't seem as comfortable with their bodies as people are back home.

But anyway. I'm sad to say goodbye to this part of the adventure. There have been so many adventures within this adventure, I really can't stop to think about it and instead just have to go with it. Ferosa offered her house to us any time we want to come back, given that she has the space and would love the company, I imagine. She was a hoot and I absolutely would take her up on it. Mumbai I never need to see again.

But Goa, I cannot stand to say goodbye to forever. I have to believe that I will be back here at some point.

And so with that, I say, goodbye Baga, Goa. For now.

I'm Alive

I am alive and well, more than well, actually. I am writing this from an internet cafe a short walk from our hotel. Which reminds me of how far back I need to go to update. We moved from Amelia's into a hotel, because Lee was miserable there. He couldn't sleep and ended up with a head cold. I was sad to leave because I loved being there, it was quiet and comfortable (for me anyway). I was worried to move, but Lee asked one of the guys we've come to know here in Goa, Ali, where would be a good place to stay and so it's actually just perfect.

We had to get a second bed though, and the second bed is a pool lounge, which makes me laugh. I want to describe that as very Indian, because I don't know what else to call it. But it does the job and it's more than some people here have, so I'm just taking this whole trip in stride, as best I can.

The bar/restaurant that has wifi is having problems with it, so we have been unable to use that. I guess I should go ahead and clearly state that internet is absolutely not a guarantee. We'll have to go to internet cafes like this one, so that might not be as frequent as desired.

As I sit here writing this with a cramp in my hand because these keys are so impossible, I think it's finally hitting me that I am in India. There is a fan going overhead, but my body is still sticky with sweat that never goes away, and the woman running the place today has Hindi music playing. It's so interesting, the differences, the similarities.

I am in India. How crazy is that.

Delia has been very busy and in a very stressful, very unhappy time in her life. India really does not want foreigners putting down roots here, so the longest visa one can obtain is for six months. Every six months Delia has to renew her visa, and this last time, they said no, you have to leave. She teaches piano here in Goa and families fly her to Mumbai for lessons as well. She has great talent, I hear, and India is privileged to have her. So right now she's waiting to hear whether or not she gets to stay. It seems that she is expecting that one day the police could knock on her door and say, "You need to leave." And that would be that. So we haven't seen her much. Between her own practicing for a concert coming up, giving lessons, and probably trying to rest emotionally, we haven't seen too much of her.

One thing worth mentioning is that I was sort of shocked to be walking down the street or in a taxi and hear all the bad American music I try to escape even at home. But it followed me here. And at first I was sort of embarrassed by it because it really is terrible, what we listen to, if you step back and examine it, but then I started to realized it's made me miss my culture for the first time. Even though Americans are said to have no culture, it's definitely different from here and to me that counts for something. I miss family and friends and my animals, but I hadn't actually missed home yet. And 50 Cent, Sean Kingston, Train, Sara Bareilles, Avril Lavigne, and Bruno Mars managed to do that for me.

Whenever we're winding down for the night we go down to the bar below our hotel. That's where Ali works. While Delia and Lee are engrossed in conversation and I sit off the the side awkwardly trying to figure out where I even am, Ali always waits to catch my eye and then motions me over to play pool. It's still a joke to play with me, but I dare say I'm getting better because he's teaching me. I also love the opportunity it provides to talk to people who actually live here. I should probably be more wary of the fact all three people who work at the bar are men, but it really doesn't bother me. Lee even commented to me today about how I really don't seem bothered or awkward about the fact that I am an eighteen year old female traveling with my sixty-two year old uncle. That could be awkward or difficult, but to me it's just normal. And we both agreed that it's because I was raised with three brothers.

So right now I'm just enjoying getting to know people. I'm enjoying getting to know people and I'm enjoying India and I'm enjoying the challenges.

I am in India and I am growing and learning and thriving. I'm not afraid, I am not overwhelmed. I am okay and I am in India.

There is so much to say and not enough time to say it. But Ali grabbed my hand and made me promise a game of pool tonight so maybe I'll just keep soaking it all in. As best I can.

Some Familiarity

We made it to Goa. Can I just say I am infinitely happier here than in Mumbai. Didn't realized I hated that city so much until we got out. Also, Goa reminds me of Harmons, Jamiaca, but without all the isolation.

The plan was to stay with one of Lee's longtime friends, but when we got here she said one of her friends offered to let us stay in their guesthouse and she thought it would be more comfortable for us. So we are not at Delia's but instead we are at Amelia and her husband's apartments. The other rooms are apartments that they rent, but the rooms we are in were unoccupied so they offered it. Amelia is a bit of a spitfire and I love it.

Delia, Lee and I went out for dinner last night after arriving and settling in. As soon we walked up a fight broke out between an Indian man and a Scottish man. A guard of some kind was right by but he just watched. Interesting. They settled down and were broken up by the Scottish guy's family, but a few minutes later he snuck up behind the Indian man and punched the back of his head, sending his face directly into the wall. They left eventually, we stayed.

It seems to be a trend, increasing in severity, my witnessing violence on the first day of being in a new city in India. Delhi is next so I'm just going to assume I will witness a murder.

Peace Out, Mumbai

Yesterday morning Lee woke up with an upset stomach and neither of us slept much so we mostly just stayed in. It was our last full day in Mumbai because around noon we’re leaving for the airport where we will take an hour and fifteen minute flight to Goa.

This post is the last time I’m 100% sure I will be able to use the internet from my laptop and can post pictures, so there will be an excess.

On Thursday, after getting up at six in the morning, we had breakfast and then started our journey to Elephanta Island. We took an hour long ferry (each way) to the island, and spent about three hours there. There are beautiful caves and gods engraved into the walls and pigeons that live in the engravings and monkeys that steal food with their babies dangling from their stomachs. It was our first day interacting with Indians in any real way. We also ran into a man from Austin, Texas, and a woman with an accent that sounded Australian but I really cannot be held accountable because anyone who knows me knows I am terrible with accents. Regardless of where she was from, she was white and that makes running into her notable.

We didn’t realize until then that really, all the other tourists are Indians. This is summer for them so anyone traveling is on vacation/holiday/leisure. That’s why there are hardly any non-Indian tourists. Because they checked and saw this is not the best time to be here for the weather. But not us, we just booked it and here we are.

We had several interactions with several different people and each time we would walk away from it going, “Did that really just happen? Is this a dream?”

Now would be a good time to note that Lee did not bring his camera, and instead has been using the camera in his iPad. It is quite the sight to see him standing with this huge screen above his head, taking a photo of something. It inevitably attracts attention. As if we didn’t already stick out enough. At one point he had taken a photo of part of the caves, and people started gathering around him and asking what it was about. He started demonstrating it and it was quite the little show.

I was off to the side, waiting on him, taking photos of a man taking photos of the group around this tall whitey, when a group of Indian women came up to me and asked where I was from. They asked my name, and the one initiating conversation repeated it back to me. My name was like a pebble being dropped in a pond, they all repeated it like ripples. Surrounded by these beautiful Indian women, towering over them as they all look at each other quietly saying, “Ollie? Ah-lee?”

They asked if I was a student and then actually asked me if I was lonely. I guess standing there by myself, I probably looked lost and definitely out of place. It was almost surreal and made me wonder why I’m so afraid of being that honest. I cannot see myself going up to an obvious foreigner and asking them if they are lonely. But it seems like a legitimate, valid question and it was just very refreshing.

That is the impression I get of most everyone here. They seem fearless when it comes to saying what they think. And aside from the people trying to sell you something at every turn, they also seem like very kind, respectful, and curious people.

While I was waiting on Lee to finish climbing a stretch of stairs, I was alone on the path in front of the caves. Sitting in the shade was an Indian family and when I noticed them one of the daughters had her camera out, pointed at me. So at the advice of my brother Justin, I posed. I threw my arms out to the side, tilted my head, and made a face. The mother’s shoulders started to shake with laughter and I couldn’t help but smile. I don’t know if the girl taking the photo found it amusing or not, though.

It was overall much more manageable day and less chaotic. And now it’s almost time to leave Mumbai. That seems hard to believe because we just got here, but now it’s already time to move on to the next part of the trip. In Goa we are staying with one of Lee’s friends, and I am looking forward to that greatly.

Other things to note:

·         Got my first sunburn in India

·         Met a photographer who called himself a celebrity in India, took a photo of him and Lee, and when he saw it he went, “Ah, lighting is not right.”

·         There is so much trash everywhere

·         Lee played Angry Birds on the ferry back after he and every Indian on the boat took a nap, which I found hilarious—it made me think of Justin and Adrienne especially, but Rockford and Grant as well

·         My ankles and right leg is swollen, I don’t know why, and it’s really freaky looking

·         What is happening

·         Where am I

·         Who am I

·         These are the questions

First Day

If you stay in one place for too long they start taking pictures of you. It was concerning and disorienting. I realized I want to do the same, but my inclination is to do it with much more discretion. Like this photo I took at the Gateway, for example.

This is how I want to document the trip—through the people. Whenever I see a particularly beautiful person I want to just stop them and say, “You are beautiful and different from me but we are both people so we’re still the same. May I please take your photograph to remember how it feels to be surrounded by beauty I am not used to?” But I don’t.

I saw a man slap another man twice across the face. No one seemed to think anything of it, except the man getting slapped, of course. And there I was wondering how that can be okay or even tolerable, in any culture.

The streets and outsides of buildings are all so dirty, it makes things seem old and broken. People and animals sleep in the streets, and the men lying on the road seem to have the same pair of brown pants on, no shirt. Dogs with broken legs sleep under cars while horns are beeping nonstop and everything is moving, moving, moving. But they sleep as peacefully as my dogs do at home in the comfort of their dog beds or the couch, in silence. It just shows how we adapt to our situations. This life is normal to them, people and animals alike. And here I am, some puny, sweaty white girl looking terrified of the world.

I’m working on it.

I feel very overwhelmed and very exhausted. Running on roughly six hours of sleep and being thrown into the hurricane that is Mumbai has led to some anxiety. I found myself humming this little tune several times while we were out walking around. I don’t know what it is or where I heard it, if I heard it at all, but I catch myself humming it sometimes when I’m so overwhelmed and need to kind of fall into myself. An attempt at calming myself down, I suppose. But it is odd, I know that much, and at least no one could possibly have heard me given how loud it is here. Noise, all the time.

There is no way I will be afraid of crossing streets or even highways back home ever again. It seems that traffic in India is a complete free for all, for the automobiles and pedestrians alike. The idea of jaywalking seems slightly hilarious to me now. It is madness to my Americanized mind and I have to wonder how many people get hit every year or even day. Last night as we went flying down the highway in a cramped little taxi with the driver opening the door randomly to spit, Lee spotted a light up ahead that had just changed to red. He leaned over and said, “Oh, I wonder what red lights mean here.” We went hurdling through the intersection without so much as our driver letting his foot off the gas, you can forget about stopping, and Lee said, “Nothing, apparently. They’re just for decoration.”

I am grateful to be here and I’m trying to just soak it all in because I can’t think too much about it or I will start to cry with how much of an overload this is. The idea of traveling and doing this for a month is daunting. In a good way, maybe.

This hotel has a workout room, so I got to run and now I’m feeling better. Felt good to sweat with a purpose.

Which reminds me, the climate and stress combined have taken a toll on my skin. Lovely.

Lee tried a drink made out of sugar cane?

Also, forgot to mention that Lee is my uncle and fellow travel partner for this trip.

We ate Japanese tonight, because we're in India so obviously that's what we're supposed to do. We took this ultra-cheesy photo when we got back. So look Mom, we're alive and well.

P.S. It's nearly 10:30pm here, I don't know how to change the time on these posts. I can't even work a computer but I'm in India.

Arrived

Wrote a post, didn't get saved. Too tired to do this all again. It's 5:13pm in Charlotte and 2:43am here.

Highlights.

Flight to Brussels and Brussels airport:

• the lady next to me fell asleep on my shoulder and I tried not to wake her up from my laughing
• we went the wrong way in literally every possible situation
• I accidentally flashed a French guy at Starbucks---how terrible

Flight to Mumbai:

• smelled bad
• tried to talk to the Indian woman beside me, we both spoke perfectly fine English but neither of us could understand the other so we mostly just sat there smiling and nodding
• but I did find out she was coming home from a month in America---pretty cool

Mumbai:

• don't know what to say yet

Also, I am convinced that I will either 1. die of starvation by the end of the month, or 2. die of Indian food.

This is promising. Stay tuned.