I feel stupid, sad, and excited pretty much everyday here.

See, the thing about being a foreigner, is that even when you've gotten the hang of things, you're still going to make stupid mistakes. All the time. Today I took the bus to my service learning site, The Loreto Day School (http://www.loretosealdah.com/). It was my first time taking the bus. I was like a nervous little school boy who doesn't speak the language and isn't actually going to school. I was determined to find my right stop, pay the correct amount at the correct time, and not do any of the many other stupid things one can do on a bus. The bus generally doesn't really stop moving when you get on it, but today it did. Phase 1, complete. Feeling good. The bus guy wanders over to me after a few minutes and I pay for my ticket. Nice. Then a group of guys get on, look me over pretty well, and ask me to get up, because there was something under the cushion, or some line of BS. I don't know, I don't speak the language. As I stood up amongst them, I almost got pickpocketed. I don't know this for sure, but at one point I felt my phone moving slowly and gently towards the opening of my pocket. I flinched really hard, lost my balance, fell a little bit, found my phone at the edge of my pocket and pushed it back in, fell a few more times, found the hand rail, and soon sat back down. All of the guys got off at the next stop, after about a one minute ride. I thought about talking some smack to them as they left, but I decided it wasn't worth it. I could have thrown down, but its tough when you are incredibly intimidated by the 7 guys you want to throw down against. I could have called up my......roommate Erik. That's what I'll do next time.

As we're getting close to the stop, I saw a sign that lead me to believe I was in the right place. Some girls got off after calling out what I thought was the right stop. I tapped the girl in front of me to ask if we were in the right place, and she nodded. So I yelled and ran to the door, and more or less hopped out while it was moving. As I almost fell over on the road for a period of 5-10 seconds, the bus guy was yelling at me, trying to tell me that the place I wanted was farther up the road. So I had to walk an extra mile or so. Cultural immersion. Its ok guys, I've been here for over a month. Totally have it all down.

In contrast to my thorough embarrassment on the bus, my service learning place is wonderful. Its a school/orphanage for girls. Many come for the education and pay tuition, many come off the streets for free, but go home at the end of the day, and many more live there, having no parents or family to take care of them. Its about 700 total, with 100-200 living there permanently. Today I mostly toured, watched a video, and had about half an hour to sit with some girls, but it was the most happy I've been since I came to India. I can't wait to go back. The only thing I'm worried about is sustaining the web of lies I've created for myself. If they find out that I don't actually work at the zoo, caring for an elephant that is also my girlfriend, I'll look so stupid in front of all of them. And I've had enough of that lately.

I'll never shave myself again

For all of you who have at one time or another told me, "Wow Adam, your new Indian beard is truly disgusting. I no longer find you attractive," today is your lucky day. I was saving up so that I could get shaved on the street, and I'm very glad I did.

This is the place. I had to wait for this guy to finish getting his hair cut. I'm definitely coming back for that

The experience was incredible. He shaved me better than I think I'll ever shave myself. He started out by unexpectantly spraying me in the face with water, then rubbed my beard for a few seconds. The shaving cream is put on with a brush, and then he just....shaves away. And you don't even feel it. There was aftershave, and some sort of smooth rock he rubbed on my face too. I don't know.

We never really spoke to each other. I sat down and pointed to my face and said "face." and he nodded. When he was done, I opened my wallet and looked at him. He showed me ten fingers, meaning ten Rupees (about 20 cents). I tipped him and he laughed. Then we parted ways. And that was all. It was tough to walk away. I feel like he knows me so well; not many men can say they've shaved another man's face before. But to him, its just business, and that was the hardest thing for me to accept. Nothing more, nothing personal. Just business.

Soon I'll get a haircut. I think those are about 30 cents. In the future, I probably won't tell you this much about my hygienic life. Just thought it was interesting. 

Shantiniketan: A World Wonder Undiscovered

The title is a bit of an exaggeration, but the past couple days we took a trip to Shantiniketan, which was quite nice. The city is in rural Bengal, which if you’re unfamiliar with rural Bengal, looks just like the Jungle Book. Less jungle though. Not the jungle part so much, but the man village part. Rural Bengal looks like the man village in The Jungle Book.

Lots of straw huts, lots of rice, a handful of monkeys. The funny thing about the countryside is that even though it was the first time we got fresh air and saw open space in the last month, it was still crazy (in a congestion sense). Driving through a village is almost the same as driving through a big city, except you add a few cows and goats to the village road. I’ve given up on the idea of a leisurely drive in India. It won’t happen. (sigh)…and now I can finally begin to learn this place. That was my final hurdle.

These monkeys were wacky. Jumping around like kangaroos. Through rice fields. I don’t know.

Shantiniketan was the city designed by Rabindrath Tagore, who is a BIG deal here. He’s like the Superman/Jesus/Emilio Estevez of West Bengal. He was a poet and Nobel Laureate from Kolkata. We visited a school he made, the homes he lived in (he had five in one complex, because he got sick of the same home after awhile. He would just build a new one across the yard and move in there. Much like Luke Sleeper trying to find new shoes.), and some more schools that we made in his honor/tradition. Coming out of the trip, here are my thoughts:

·      I still don’t understand Tagore, but mostly because he was super bizarre and I couldn’t understand most of the speakers accents.

·      Rural Bengal was totally worth the trip. We saw rural India in between Delhi and Jaipur, but it was much more desolate. This was quite picturesque.

·      What were those monkeys doing in that field?? I still don’t get it. There weren’t even trees nearby.

·      Cows are a nuisance to society. The mere fact that Indians put up with them just goes to show that they are truly afraid of bovine retribution.

·      There is so much India to see, its ridiculous.

Highlight: A baul (pronounced “bowel”) band came to play where we were staying. It’s a tradition Bengali form of band music, and it was fascinating. Culture.

If this video doesn't work, then I apologize. 

Now back to homework (P.U.!!) and the city (equally smelly).

That is all. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I would like to formally apologize for my previous blog posts, which have made light of and focused exclusively on the issue of poverty. The poverty in India is something I feel that everyone needs to see, but is certainly not all there is here to see. I fear I have not been treating the people of India with the respect they deserve. The poor deserve to have privacy, to have dignity, and should not be a face-less indicator of how different it is on the other side of the world. India too deserves a greater respect; it has more to offer this world other than a lesson on how good you have it at home. I will continue to talk about the living conditions, and strive to understand them, but I wish to do so with the utmost respect for both the poor and the rich here in India. If you feel passionately about this, and I tell a funny story about some amenity that was sub-par or a person doing something wacky, please don’t be offended. 

This post is exclusively for my mom

Mother,
     Erik and I cooked for our host family tonight. I did...some of the cooking. I have visual evidence.

Nobody told me that we were supposed to acknowledge the camera....

We made spaghetti and chicken parmesan. Erik is a pretty good cook, and I helped (imagine that as a 7 year old would say it). We also bought all the ingredients at the market and everything. Gosh, I'm growing up. 

I sliced these vegetables. I sliced the crap out of these vegetables. I sliced the crap out of most of these vegetables.

In the middle, there may or may not have been some sort of group dancing to the Beach Boys. Ranjit turned it way up, as all fathers do. Turned the bass way way up, as all confused fathers do. We cooked and danced in the true American style: poorly. 

In the end, our parents were so happy with us and our efforts, Ranjit gave everyone celebratory whiskey. (Imagine him speaking very slowly and thoughtfully, as all old men do.) "You may have to use water.........I do not have enough..soda.....as I did not know....that I would have the sufficient enthusiasm....to offer everyone drinks ha ha ha."

A happy family, happy at last. Together.

The meal went really well. I just wanted to tell you that. I may not have done much "cooking" per se, but I certainly watched food being cooked, which will be an invaluable skill when I'm a father and need to provide mismatched and poorly prepared food for my children, when they're left no other option. 

Love, Adam

A Particular Saturday

I set my alarm today for 5:30 am. This nice thing about waking up in the morning as opposed to the night is that you don’t have to convert the time from military time to the time we’re used to. You can just focus on what’s making that awful noise from the desk in your room. We had to be at the West Bengal Tourism office by 7:30, for a cultural heritage tour of Kolkata, and any sort of time commitment means making time for getting ready, having tea, eating an enormous breakfast, and taking an hour to get anywhere. I’m less concerned with telling you about the cultural heritage tour, and more concerned with giving general information/visuals about Kolkata that I have failed to give so far. Some interesting things from today:

Here is the Marble Palace, by far the coolest place we went to on this day. It’s a museum preserved from the time of the Raj, when a few wealthy Indians were puppets of the British overlords, but were still made extremely wealthy. The inside is wall to wall masterpieces of sculptures, paintings, furniture; all incredibly valuable and done in the traditional Greco-Roman style (that’s the best I can do. I don’t know anything about art). They had a set of 20’ by 10’ mirrors, beautifully decorated gold trim. To get them inside, they had to remove the roof, fly them in with a helicopter, and then put the roof back on. The place was just….ridiculous.  I have very limited pictures since pictures were not allowed, but I snuck some from outside.

As you can see, the garden is filled with statues, and on the other side of the building is a private zoo that they still maintain. Some monkeys and birds and stuff. You get it. They say that in India you cannot be alone. This is very true. The most interesting part of the day for me was wandering through the gardens outside this palace. I found some paths that I don’t think we were supposed to go on, got pretty deep in the back of the garden, and found this:

Maybe ten families living here, not even separated from the ornate lawn around them. This is a picture after turning 180 degrees:

And this is right in the middle of the settlement, as you would expect:

It’s a lesson constantly reiterated to me. Where you find beautiful monuments, tributes to the decadence of India’s past, you will find within your immediate view poverty. Always.

Other highlights:

We walked through a few alleys where some local artists live. The area is very poor, but they make these beautiful sculptures all day, which will become idols worshiped at the next holy festival, Durga Puja. There were dozens of these in every shop, so very different than others, and the shops go on for infinite. There is an incredible demand for these sculptures for these festivals, and it is hundreds of artists’ entire livelihood. The sculptures are made of straw and clay, and when the festival is over, they will all be thrown into the river to decompose, and a new batch will be made for the next festival. Here are some examples:

[Check facebook for the non-relevant pictures from the day. As will always happen when walking through India, you’ll get some good ones.]

Concluding the day with a metro ride.

The metro is wall to wall, all the time. Don’t expect personal space or boundaries. I’ve been intimate with a number of Indian men, just by sheer proximity. Getting on and off is what I imagine rugby to be like. I've seen a few girls from our group be swept off their feet and literally carried on or off, by the masses.

Of course, taking pictures on the metro is not easy or advisable. I was sneaky, but there were a least six people between me and my armpit, so inevitably, some people noticed. They got really upset at me, because I was taking pictures of the crowds.

“You don’t take pictures of the good parts of India? Just the crowds?”

“Oh no no. I take pictures of everything………plus, I like the crowds. They’re fun.”

“The crowds are fine? Hmm. So you come to visit India to see the crowds?”

“….no sir.”

That’s something I’ve found here. People get quite upset when the issue of poverty gets brought up. They get defensive and come up with arbitrary reasons why what you are saying can’t actually be called “poverty”. It always seems like there is an embarrassment among the people. This is something I’ve found quite interesting, but it’s a little unfortunate. I know there is something more to these people. Something deep and beautiful, something that unites them and gives them happiness and hope, regardless of the conditions they live in. I haven’t found it yet, but I will. In the meantime, everybody else who doesn’t think a stupid American tourist could ever get that deep or learn that much, will be a bit testy.

That is all. Thank you for your time. Tell me about your adventures some time. 

Super Nerd City

I've just discovered how nerdy this city really is. I mean no disrespect of course. Calcutta has a cultural reputation for being very intellectual. Today, among other things of course, we took an adventure down to "College Street." Sounds like a party right? I pictured lewd women, frisbees on the quad, and a party ever block, with enough cake, Hi-C, and gift bags for everyone. However, college street is this: 

Except way way dirtier and crowded. I didn't bring my camera, so I took this from "West Bengal Tourism." This must be THE nicest spot on the street, after a thorough sweeping.

Point of the matter is that the street is a series of adjacent book shops. More like book shacks actually. Small places with thousands of books in disorganized stacks. The street goes on like that for as far as you can see. The boothes are numbered, and in the small section we searched, I found numbers going above 200. That means millions upon millions of books on this street alone. I've never considered being a teacher so seriously: I saw maybe 25 different arrangements of the guide to the teacher's entry exam. With all of that competition, I could have gotten the book for nothing. (that's not true. Bargaining is difficult when the salesmen are so much better at it than you). 

In a clearing, we found a public pool. Its used by the YMCA swimming club (spelled out on the sign, it was the first time I've ever seen or known what YMCA stands for), and a bunch of different clubs. It has a 20-30 foot high dive, painted starting blocks, and its much bigger than an olympic size pool. However, its outdoor, in the middle of the city, and right now the water is really low because its the dry season. When the monsoons come, the pool will fill up and people will be able to use it. Its full of garbage, stray dogs, stray people, probably some cows. Point of the matter: water in the city is obviously gross, and they are waiting on the rain to make their fantastic swimming pool operational. I thought it was kind of funny. 

There's a million stories like that everyday, but I forget them all. Everything here is just....wacky. I'll take more pictures.

Supplement to my previous post

This goes in the section from my last post about the track day at school. This picture gives light to that incredible moment, when Courtney and I shocked the world and showed these Indians how to really run with someone else while holding a magazine between you. (As you could probably guess...I don't win things very often.)