Phones and Pea-coats

I have arrived in a strange, new world of sameness. Not the sameness that is Canada and the United States, or saying Foyer the correct way (without the 'r') and Foyer the American (with the 'r'), it is the sameness of things that are completely different, things forced to exist in the same plane despite their mutual resistant.

India, as a country and an experience, haunt every thing that is Britain to me. I see it in the cars passing on the wrong side of the road. I see it in the colors of the pavement lines. I see it on the strange street signs. I see it in the stores filled with the same products. I smell it as I walk past a curry shop. I feel it as I dial with my identical Nokia cell phone. I miss it as I walk down the beach. But the warmth, the sun, the friendship, the bliss that was India is not here.

As much as I would love for India to have followed me to this place, it has not, and will not, ever find a place here. St Andrews and India are irreconcilable. I can dream of India as much as I desire, and I can see as much of it as I please through things that seem so similar, but I will never be able to relive my time there or replicate that experience here. For all my efforts, my phone, no matter how identical to that of my days in India, will not call Anju or text Alayna. The sameness of these two phones is not fundamental, it is superficial, and should be considered as such. It is hard to remember however, as I reach for my phone to answer a text the rang as it did in India and to type out the message in the same convoluted T9 as I used in India. When I see it on my desk, or hold it in my hand, it is India.

But it is not India.

India is gone. Scotland is here. And this phone belongs to the land of pea-coats, for that is what this place is; Cold, windy, rainy, and filled to the brim with snobbish Brits. Pea-coats. They all have them, in varying sizes, shapes and shades of gray and black, but they are universal. These pea-coated persons can hardly be said to inhabit the same world as my Indian phone. Their world is A levels, consumerism and polo. Not India. And yet they are so intricately connected, so enmeshed in each other. The Common Wealth, Immigration, pub curries, and Goan holidays, make these two places collide in a catastrophic space-time event.

Things of this nature can not exist together. And yet they do. So far the world has not ended, the oceans have not gone dry, the heavenly bodies still follow their divine paths, and I am here in this strange world. Surviving the sameness and the difference, trying to understand how fate could have created two such places.

Arrived

After two weeks traveling in the south and 40 hours of plane travel, I am finally safe at home. Coming home was like some kind of awful hallucination. Being on a plane taking me away from India was so unreal that I am still not sure that happened, especially saying goodbye to my travel friends at the airport knowing that I may never see them again.

Even more remarkable than leaving however is to think that I may never be back in India, at least not for a long while. After nearly five months living there, after falling in love with it, I don't know how long I will be able to stay away.

Now I am supposed to be off to Scotland, but I don't think I want to go any more, after my experiences in India, the good and the bad, I am almost certain that Scotland will never be able to compare. Though perhaps that is not a bad thing. Perhaps it is okay to accept that Scotland will exist on a totally different plane than India. Honestly, I guess I knew that it never really had a chance, but now it seems so painfully obvious that it is quite off-putting.

Sitting here on my couch at four in the morning, trying to absorb being home and all the strangeness of the festive season, I am finding it difficult to understand my journeys in India and how it has changed me.

Love from Seattle

Work

Ah, the joys of school. The goals for the last few days have included; a 25 page paper on tuberculosis control in India, take a Marathi oral exam, write a paper for sociology, write a paper for political science, write a Marathi Final, present and create an environmental model for Pune, and perform a six minute Bollywood dance. So really this last week of Indian school is a total breeze.

Thankfully the end of last week I had finished my paper for sociology and poly-sci and yesterday I performed my dance. So I am kinda half way through at this point, and thank God too, because this work is slowly killing me. I have done hardly any work the entire time I have been here and now it is as if the program is punishing me, although really I can't help that my teachers don't understand the concept of giving assignments progressively through the term.


Point is, life has been so busy that I haven't been able to talk about my awesome trip the the Himalayas, Amritsar, Pakistan and Rajasthan. One day though, when I am not swimming in assignments, those stories will come.

Until then,

Love from India

Goa!!!

Goa, is such an amazing place. Home to a unique culture, tons of beaches, and beautiful churches

Getting to Goa in a lot of ways was as interesting as being there. Indian trains have a stigma of being dirty, dangerous and the worst possible way to travel, but I disagree. Yes, compared to pristine western countries, India's trains seem dingy, but so is India. It seems a bit naive to expect trains, the mode of transport for the common people, to diverge greatly from their common environment. I will not pretend that the train did not terrify me upon my first exposure; it smelled awfully of feces and smoke, it seems horribly out of date and remarkably simplistic. But once I found my seat, put down my things and looked around I realized it was actually nice and strangely comfortable. Really, trains are India, both in terms of their cargo and general impression. India is dirty, smelly, and physically different than home, but somehow it has the remarkable ability to welcome and embrace the foreign, like me.  

Among the sensory overload, the train embraced me in the form of a three Parsi senior citizens sitting in our berth. Rarely have I had the pleasure to interact with such kind, open, and easy people. Sarah, Kattie and I talked, eat, and laughed with them for hours without wanting to find our other friends, and enjoyed every minute of it, as I am sure they did. In fact our berth was so interesting that our ACM friends actually came to use instead. By the time we had left the train they declared us as their own children, and insisted that once we returned to Pune we call them for more conversation over chai.

Once there, we immediately followed the advice of one of the old ladies from the train, and tried fenny, the regional alcohol.  That first day was an overload of sunbathing, swimming and general non academic behavior. However the next day we balanced it with a full day of touring Old Goa and the capital, Panaji. To do this we needed a driver. (Hiring drivers in India when traveling for the day is very common) Usually our driver’s cars are decked out in sparkled fabrics on the dashboard and around the windshield with a series of Indian idols sitting right in the middle, possibly also decorated with beads and things. However, Goa has a shocking twist to all this. Instead of Ganpati, or Vishnu on the dash, a squat white, semi-translucent cross emerges from the colorful chaos, and instead of Ashok, his name was Alex.

Traveling in and to Goa was one of the coolest parts of my trip to India so far. I am so happy that in a week and a half I leave for two weeks to travel in North India, including the Himalayas. Sometimes being in this country is like being in a dream.

Love from India

Solution...

to homesickness

1. Blackadder
2. Nerds
3. Fawlty Towers
4. Sweet tarts
5. Random Documentary about Rome
6. Talking to Nina on facebook
7. Talking to Kate, Meagan, and Marissa simultaneously on facebook :)
8. King Size Kit Kat bar which was lugged half way across the world only to discover that a) India has already got Kit Kat bars and b) the Kit Kat bar has melted beyond recognition

to the flu

1. Never, ever going to the doctor!
2. Not taking Tamiflu, or the dozen other medicines prescribed
3. A good helping of sleep and liquids
4. Perhaps more Blackadder

to sickness caused by Tamiflu

1. not taking Tamiflu
2. other (as yet undiscovered)

And the best solution to all problems,

       Talking to my mother daily over email


Love from India

Sickness

Sickness of the body while away from home is one of the worst things that can happen to a traveler, in part because it leads to sickness of the heart, which, unlike the body, is hard to repair.

Due to a weeks worth of festivities, my body by last Saturday was shot to pieces. Though I tried my best to resist it, I succumbed to a terrible fever and was forced to stay in bed all weekend. By the time the doctor's office was open on Monday, I was almost fully recovered and wanted nothing more than to return to school, my routine, and my friends. Being a cautious lady she decided that I wasn't allowed back until I saw her on Wednesday. School is closed on Thursday because Ganesh was submerged the day before, so that means that my first potential day of school was Friday. FRIDAY! One day, far in the future it seemed. Ah, but how very very wrong I was I would soon learn.

During my sickness I lay in bed thinking about how nice it would be to not be in this particular place, how lovely it would be to be at home and surrounded by my family, my things, my food, and how much I would give to go back there. I told myself that this was quite natural, who wouldn't want all these things when ill, but once the worst had passed, and still I had this feeling, I was suspicious.

After that unproductive doctor's visit, my host mother and I ran out to get the copious amounts of medicine prescribed to me. Little did I know that they would do more harm than good, upon taking the first dose Monday night I became became ill again.This time however it was not the flu, but an awful stomach ache accompanied by everything else the Pepto-Bismol bottle so gloriously describes. Unfortunately, despite my symptoms, I am required by the doctor to finish some of the pills. I know very well that I should finish them, that to not do so could create supper bugs in my body and lead to antibiotic resistance, but I really don't know if I care anymore. I just want not to be sick and alone in this room anymore.

To add insult to injury, a terror alert has been issued for Americans in India, so no school on Friday now. Great. And to top it off I will be alone until Monday because apparently there is a beach trip that know one told me about or bothered to sign me up for, so now my roommate will be gone for four days with half of ACM and I have another lonely weekend, devoid of any amusement, to look forward to.

It is at times like these that one's heart gets so sick with home that crying seems to be the only relief. I had done so, so well till now, I had not even thought of home in that way, not shed a single tear. But now I find that it is all to hard not to sit on my bed and cry. I have an awful feeling that now the flood gates have opened they will be hard to close, so although my body may recover I will continue to miss home until I am there again, wrapped in my mothers embrace.

Ganpati

Ganpati, also known as Ganesh, is a Hindu deity celebrated for the next two weeks here in India. This Festival is especially celebrated in this state, Maharastra, and since Pune is the second largest here, it is a BIG deal (my host brother has been practicing his drums for over a month) During this festival Ganesh is said to be visiting earth for 11 days, which means 11 days of partying culminating in a grand procession with huge Ganesh figures and all night dancing through the streets. Every house has a Ganesh figure that they worship through the holiday and then submerge in a body of water to symbolize his departure from the world. Unfortunately most Ganesh figures in India are made from plastic and have toxic paints, so they pollute the already filthy water. There is however a way to make sustainable Ganpati! If the Ganesh is made out of clay, with natural paints, then it will simply dissolve into the water and integrate naturally with the river or lake bed. In Pune there is an NGO that works to change the philosophy of the Ganpati Festival so that it is environmentally friendly, in part, by teaching sustainable Ganpati making through a series of classes. Because the people here at ACM are so wonderful, they arranged a special session just for us :) On Monday we molded them out of clay and today we will paint them. Overall the process is upwards of 5 hours, but it is definitely worth it for your own, hand constructed idle.  Oh, and I should mention that the media was there the whole time, interviewing and filming us. So, if you want to see 26 kids craning over bits of clay and stammering in front of a camera, you should definitely watch this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShO-U_e5TfU

Ajanta and Ellora

This weekend we all went to see the famous Ajanta and Ellora caves in northern Maharastra. It was so refreshing to get away from the city and breathe nice, clean country air, but it was not nice to encounter country attitudes. For whatever reason we became the central focus of everyone's attention. While visiting these gorgeous caves, dug out of sheer cliff face with only a hammer and chisel, it is remarkable that WE were the ones being stared at rather than the architecture. While in Pune we all get looks and sometimes shouts, but never has it been as bad as this. While at the Ellora caves we actually had to have a security detail because we were being swamped by all the Indians who were redirected from there trip to the caves to look us. All I could think was, "REALLY, REALLY! we travel thousands of miles and cross oceans to see your beautiful county, to appreciate your art, and you return the compliment by swarming us, staring at us, and taking pictures of us! I know that you have probably never seen western people outside your television, but really, this is silly, and it makes us feel really uncomfortable."

So although the caves were stunning and well worth the trip, the most memorable thing about our trip was maybe not the caves but all the other tourists.

Love from India

Home

Though I am on the other side of the world there is a strange feeling of home here. Daily it surfaces, sometimes without warning. But instead of giving me that awful feeling, that longing to return home to where everything is familiar and constant, it makes me excited and almost happy. Maybe it is the knowledge that I will be able to return to that world, a world that is always waiting for me, once I have explored this one. Maybe it is because those things that I see provide a bridge home and lessen the foreignness of this place . When my aai serves me chai, she reminds me of home, of my mother, of the times that we spend together when I am not at school. Just sitting in the living room watching T.V. with the family feels so comfortable, so much like home, despite all the differences in context. Walking down the street is even a reminder; Mcdonalds Dominos, Crocs, Honda, and Hyundai. Sometimes it is more forced, like Friday when Alayna and I watched Jane Eyre till the wee hours of the night while eating Starbursts and Reeses. Home is every where. It is in the things that you take with you. It is in the things that you receive. It is in things that you see and those that you can only feel.  It permeates through India and wraps me in its embrace.

Love from India

Dear Rickshaw Wala,

I am seriously frustrated with you. Though I know that you are not always mean and slimy, that is the disturbing trend that I have noticed of late. Three nights ago for example, you charged us twice the appropriate fare. I know, I know, I'm a tourist, I'm American, and I don't speak Marathi, and I live far away from the city center, but that is no reason to swindle me out of my money. Yes, I know that you live in a developing country, and I do not, thus my money goes a longer way here. It is true that paying double means that I pay only a dollar or so more, but that's not really the point. Three days ago I let you get away with it because it was ten at night, I was tired, it was dark, but when you tried it again the next day I was severely insulted. I refuse to be charged an extra 20 rupees just because we live 6 km away. In future I will give you nothing more than what the fare card indicates. I will shove it in you face and yell what little Marathi I know at you, I will threaten to contact the police, or I may just pay the correct fare and leave, but I will not give in again to your bullying!

Also, it is not kind to refuse a fare from two girls, soaked to the bone in the dark of night who want nothing more than to go home (like yesterday evening). Again, I know that we live outside of the city center, and maybe you wanted to go the other way. BUT STILL! It was wet and we didn't have phones. Instead we took refuge in a coffee shop in hopes that they would have a phone. No. No phone, no help, no rickshaw. In our desperation we were driven to ask a group sitting with an American for a cell phone so that we could contact our Aai, who expected us back 3 hours previous.To these people I am eternally grateful.

As for those of you who are fair and charge us the correct price and give correct change, to you I will give a reward. From now on I will give you a slight tip, because you are so much better then your brethren. Like today, the kind fellow that drove me to school did not quarrel about the destination or about the price. Thank you kind sir, I will remember your goodness.

To all the others however, be warned.

Your aware and resentful tourist,
Aisha Mergaert

Poli...

Last time I was in such a rush I totally forgot to talk about poli. Poli is a delicous, tortilla like bread that Marthis use to eat there food. Also called chapati in other areas of india, poli is far more common than naan in Maharashtra, especially in homes. Every meal that our aai cooks has poli for us to use plus rice cooked in delicious spices and oils! And her dinners are sooo good! The best Indian food I have had here, and ever has been cooked by her. For example this morning she made a delicious rice-like patty fried with lots of rice, and yesterday morning she made spicy rice cooked with onions and peanuts. Even better, aai said that she would teach Alaina and I how to cook! Basically, Indian food is awesome, India is awesome and I am very happy to be here.

Love from India

Family and Poli

This weekend began the most important journey of my trip, the home-stay. Friday, after classes, we were called from the classroom one-by-one (or in my case in twos) to a small room upstairs where two of the staff members waited to divulge all the juicy news about our families. Unlike me, most of the students worked themselves into a frenzy theorizing, anticipating, and praying about their host families. The tension of the room could have been cut with a knife. To everyone's dismay, Alaina and I were the second to be called. I had little sympathy however because their incessant talking and obsessing over 'which family they have?' 'Do they have kids?', 'what kind of house do they have?' 'do they have a dog?' was driving me crazy. If I had to sit in that room for much longer I would have exploded!

Turns out Alaina and I have an awesome family. We have an aai (mother), baba (father), aji, and a brother, sister and cousin (The brother and cousin are 20 and the sister is 23!) In addition to this loveliness the whole family, with the exception of aji, speaks English on some level which makes things so much easier. The sister has exceptional English, so whenever there is something a bit more difficult she jumps in. She so far has been a big help to Alaina and I. Yesterday she took us out on the town for a little bit so that we wouldn't be bored. A little to my appointment, she took us to the film 'The Expendables' which did not exactly satisfy my desire for a relaxing time. The movie was awash with blood and violence, the likes of which I rarely see in the states. But I think Alaina and I appreciated the gesture. Oh Alaina...

Alaina is another student from the ACM. We didn't really know each other very well before we were assigned our family, but over the weekend we did some serious bonding and now we are pretty close. Thank goodness she is with me! It makes the whole experience a thousand times easier when you have someone to talk to about normal things and in normal English!

As a whole, the family is really welcoming and kind. They are so happy to have us in their house, they even gave us the master bedroom with an private toilet and shower! And their house is huge. There are two floors and beautiful open roof where Alaina and I watched the sun set yesterday. Oh, and I have a dog! I feel so blessed with what I have been handed, Alaina and I really can't Believe how happy and comfortable we are.

I have to go register with the police now, so until tomorrow,

Love from India