Today was one big challenging adventure. Rachael and I woke up around 9 a.m. and got ourselves breakfast (Cornflakes and 4% milk, which isn't even whole milk here). Our host parents seemed to be sleeping still, but we weren't sure about the shower situation because there was a bucket filled with water in the bathroom but also a shower head. Finally I built up the courage to wake Khadeeja up and ask. Thankfully we can take either a bucket or a regular shower, and we just have to turn a switch to get enough water pressure for a regular shower. After a wonderfully refreshing cold shower (the only kind I take here), we got ready and Khadeeja made delicious chai with milk and sugar. Tea is huge here, and I have actually kicked my coffee habit! This is a true miracle.
Anyway, Adil found us an auto rickshaw to take to the Lotus Temple, and the day really began. At some point I want to take a first-person video of driving through Delhi traffic so everyone can get a feel for what it's like. It puts the Cape Town minibus drivers to shame. We had planned to meet other SIT students at the temple at 10:30 a.m., but we didn't get moving fast enough so we saw them as they were leaving. The Lotus Temple is exactly what it sounds like (a massive, lotus-shaped building) and is used as a worship area for people of the Bahá'í Faith, which is an interesting religion whose basic tenet is that all religions worship the same God and all prophets from these religions are truly holy people. The inside of the temple is very open, with only chairs facing forward toward a single podium and some flowers. You are instructed to be totally silent and pray or meditate privately when you're in the temple, and we were there for a prayer service as well. Different people came up to the podium and chanted or recited prayers in different languages and the whole thing only took about 10 minutes. It was quite pleasant and it was a lovely chance to sit and think and reflect and pray a little.
After we walked around the grassy grounds a bit, it started to rain and we decided to try to meet up with everyone else. Side note: I pulled my dupatta, which is the scarf part of the salwar kameez set, over my head and shoulders when it was raining, and in this way it was quite useful. Normally, however, I find the dupatta quite burdensome because it's always slipping off and getting in the way and falling into things I don't want it to fall into (#dupattaproblems, as Rachael likes to say). Anyway, we were having trouble getting ahold of people so we started walking toward the Metro station, and eventually we talked to Sagarika and agreed to meet at a nearby mall to see a Bollywood film and get some food. When we got there, though, we found out the only thing showing was Body Guard, a heavily advertised movie of questionable quality that Sagarika had already seen with her family, and that it didn't have subtitles. Bummer. The "mall" turned out to only be the movie theater and a bunch of American food places (McDonald's, Sbarro, Domino's, etc.), so we went to McDonald's and I ordered the "BIG Spicy McChicken Wrap." It was pretty average sized and average tasting, but it was a nice change from what we've been having.
Post-food, we were having trouble deciding what to do and I was getting really frustrated with no one making a decision and 8 or 10 of us just standing on a street corner not doing anything, so Rachael and I decided we were going to go to India Gate and anyone who wanted to join us could. At that point I basically marched away to the Metro station, but luckily people were happy with that decision and Becca and Bryanna decided to join us on our excursion. We Metro'd it to the end of the Violet Line and managed to find our way to the wide grassy area (much like the National Mall in D.C.) that ran quite a ways down to the Gate itself.
It got busier and busier as we got closer, and soon there were lots of people taking pictures and selling knick-knacks and food and generally bustling around. Completely random thought because I get distracted mid-post: I just looked up what "gavotte" means because I've always wondered what kind of verb Carly Simon was using in You're So Vain and it turns out it's some kind of French folk dance. Now you know too! Anyway, these women with little rectangular baskets hanging from their necks kept offering to make us bracelets with our names spelled out in beads for 2 rupees (Rs 2 as prices are written here), which is basically the equivalent of 5 cents. It definitely seemed too good to be true, but Becca wanted one that said India and finally I gave in to the women who were pestering us and agreed to get one with my name on it. Big mistake. She made the bracelet quickly – they were pretty simple but cute for 5 cents — and tied it on my wrist and then told me I owed her Rs 50. Scam revealed. I argued that she had said Rs 2 and she countered that each bead cost Rs 2 and the string cost some additional price.
I'm paragraph-breaking here for emphasis. Now understand, Rs 50 was realistically not that much for the bracelet, but the principle of the whole thing had me seething (despite the fact that it was unsurprising and I should have known better), so I told the woman she could have the bracelet back and use the materials for someone else (because it was definitely easy to dismantle). She kept insisting I keep it and pay her, and I kept telling her politely but firmly that I didn't want it and it was hers. Things began making sense really quickly — a ton of Indian men had gathered to watch the whole bracelet-making process, and we couldn't really figure out their motives because they weren't harassing us or anything. They were there to see this whole price argument go down. Becca's woman finished her bracelet and put it on her wrist, and they began the whole argument that I was still in the midst of with my woman.
THEN SUDDENLY, SATAN'S SPAWN JOINED THE ARGUMENT. This harmless-looking little girl who was also making bracelets began forcing the bracelets back on our wrist and legitimately screaming at us to pay for our bracelets. We walked away but she followed us and sneak attacked us from behind, putting the bracelets on our wrists and demanding money as shrilly and obnoxiously as possible. Finally I shoved her away from me (because she kept grabbing me aggressively) and threw it on the ground at her feet and said, "It's not mine and we are not paying you." She scratched Becca's hand in the process and we basically had to run away to the other side of India Gate.
I bought a mango ice cream bar to make myself feel better and Bryanna departed to meet up with the only two boys in the program and their host brothers. Becca, Rachael, and I took an auto to Dilli Haat, a somewhat touristy and expensive market that you have to pay to get into (which we didn't realize the first time we went because it was with the program and they paid). We wandered around, practicing bartering, bought some stuff (I got a rug!), and finally decided to return home.
We were out of water and I personally was pretty exhausted, so we decided to spare ourselves the haggling and terrifying ride via auto and instead opted to take the Metro once again. Being the cosmopolitan women that we are, we even transferred lines! Becca's family lives in Lajpat Nagar so she got off there, and we continued on and debated whether we should get off at Okhla or Jasola Apollo, which is the stop we get off at for our program center but we were also told is close to our house. We decided to opt for Okhla because we thought it might be closer, but we exited to Metro station to find ourselves in some kind of one-road vegetable market packed to the brim with people and (urinating) cows eating garbage and dogs and motorbikes. There were no autos or cycle rickshaws around and we weren't on a main road, and it was getting dark to boot. After walking a few blocks and getting stared at by probably 2,000 eyes, we decided to turn around and take the train one more stop of Jasola and get a rickshaw there. After missing one train because we were on the wrong side of the tracks, we finally got one and thought we were headed home at last.
As we left the Jasola station, who did we run into but Goutam Ji and Archne Ji! They were headed to Lajpat Nagar. Seeing them honestly made my night ten times better. Archne Ji gave us huge hugs and we told them about our host family, and Goutam Ji talked to a cycle rickshaw driver and arranged for us to get home. That man, however, turned out to just be giving sweets to the rickshaw drivers, so we were on our own to haggle and discuss. A man agreed to take us to our home at 190 Pocket B, DDA Flats in Sukhdev Vihar. He ended up not knowing where this was and we made some circles and he asked people and finally dropped us at the gate. I felt bad because he was bicycling our big ol' American bodies around. He wanted Rs 10 more than we had agreed upon, which seemed somewhat reasonable but we didn't want to give him because it still was a very short ride, so that put me in a bad mood because I felt mean.
We asked a man how to get to 190 and wandered through a dark alley (bad idea in retrospect) with his directions. We popped out theoretically at 190, and after asking a bunch of other people where exactly it was, we found it. Bad news bears babygirl, though, because it wasn't our host family's house and the apartments didn't even look familiar. I called my host dad (while witnessing a dog fight) and we tried to figure out where we were, but we were still confused. A man led us to the main gate, at which point I was about to burst into exhaustion- and dehydration-fueled tears. Several very, very, very kind older Indian couples took pity on us and told us that we were not, in fact, in Sukhdev Vihar but instead were in the identically named DDA Flat in Sarita Vihar (thanks rickshaw man!). We had a pleasant conversation on the side of some mysterious road that we had been dropped on about us studying Hindi and one woman's godson in Chicago. They hailed a policeman, who hailed an auto driver (they do this sometimes to make sure the auto drivers aren't scamming people or doing anything generally unsavory). Finally we made it home, though even at the correct DDA Flats we had to ask a vegetable delivery man to show us to our home.
Being home and seeing Adil and Khadeeja and Iman was such a relief. I think there's no better way to make a place feel like home than returning there exhausted after getting lost and being able to talk to sympathetic people and drink milky chai and sit in bed. Indian hospitality is a lovely thing.
P.S. If it isn't already obvious, I just figured out how to add links to my posts so feel free to read about things I mention on Wikipedia!
Post-food, we were having trouble deciding what to do and I was getting really frustrated with no one making a decision and 8 or 10 of us just standing on a street corner not doing anything, so Rachael and I decided we were going to go to India Gate and anyone who wanted to join us could. At that point I basically marched away to the Metro station, but luckily people were happy with that decision and Becca and Bryanna decided to join us on our excursion. We Metro'd it to the end of the Violet Line and managed to find our way to the wide grassy area (much like the National Mall in D.C.) that ran quite a ways down to the Gate itself.
It got busier and busier as we got closer, and soon there were lots of people taking pictures and selling knick-knacks and food and generally bustling around. Completely random thought because I get distracted mid-post: I just looked up what "gavotte" means because I've always wondered what kind of verb Carly Simon was using in You're So Vain and it turns out it's some kind of French folk dance. Now you know too! Anyway, these women with little rectangular baskets hanging from their necks kept offering to make us bracelets with our names spelled out in beads for 2 rupees (Rs 2 as prices are written here), which is basically the equivalent of 5 cents. It definitely seemed too good to be true, but Becca wanted one that said India and finally I gave in to the women who were pestering us and agreed to get one with my name on it. Big mistake. She made the bracelet quickly – they were pretty simple but cute for 5 cents — and tied it on my wrist and then told me I owed her Rs 50. Scam revealed. I argued that she had said Rs 2 and she countered that each bead cost Rs 2 and the string cost some additional price.
I'm paragraph-breaking here for emphasis. Now understand, Rs 50 was realistically not that much for the bracelet, but the principle of the whole thing had me seething (despite the fact that it was unsurprising and I should have known better), so I told the woman she could have the bracelet back and use the materials for someone else (because it was definitely easy to dismantle). She kept insisting I keep it and pay her, and I kept telling her politely but firmly that I didn't want it and it was hers. Things began making sense really quickly — a ton of Indian men had gathered to watch the whole bracelet-making process, and we couldn't really figure out their motives because they weren't harassing us or anything. They were there to see this whole price argument go down. Becca's woman finished her bracelet and put it on her wrist, and they began the whole argument that I was still in the midst of with my woman.
THEN SUDDENLY, SATAN'S SPAWN JOINED THE ARGUMENT. This harmless-looking little girl who was also making bracelets began forcing the bracelets back on our wrist and legitimately screaming at us to pay for our bracelets. We walked away but she followed us and sneak attacked us from behind, putting the bracelets on our wrists and demanding money as shrilly and obnoxiously as possible. Finally I shoved her away from me (because she kept grabbing me aggressively) and threw it on the ground at her feet and said, "It's not mine and we are not paying you." She scratched Becca's hand in the process and we basically had to run away to the other side of India Gate.
I bought a mango ice cream bar to make myself feel better and Bryanna departed to meet up with the only two boys in the program and their host brothers. Becca, Rachael, and I took an auto to Dilli Haat, a somewhat touristy and expensive market that you have to pay to get into (which we didn't realize the first time we went because it was with the program and they paid). We wandered around, practicing bartering, bought some stuff (I got a rug!), and finally decided to return home.
We were out of water and I personally was pretty exhausted, so we decided to spare ourselves the haggling and terrifying ride via auto and instead opted to take the Metro once again. Being the cosmopolitan women that we are, we even transferred lines! Becca's family lives in Lajpat Nagar so she got off there, and we continued on and debated whether we should get off at Okhla or Jasola Apollo, which is the stop we get off at for our program center but we were also told is close to our house. We decided to opt for Okhla because we thought it might be closer, but we exited to Metro station to find ourselves in some kind of one-road vegetable market packed to the brim with people and (urinating) cows eating garbage and dogs and motorbikes. There were no autos or cycle rickshaws around and we weren't on a main road, and it was getting dark to boot. After walking a few blocks and getting stared at by probably 2,000 eyes, we decided to turn around and take the train one more stop of Jasola and get a rickshaw there. After missing one train because we were on the wrong side of the tracks, we finally got one and thought we were headed home at last.
As we left the Jasola station, who did we run into but Goutam Ji and Archne Ji! They were headed to Lajpat Nagar. Seeing them honestly made my night ten times better. Archne Ji gave us huge hugs and we told them about our host family, and Goutam Ji talked to a cycle rickshaw driver and arranged for us to get home. That man, however, turned out to just be giving sweets to the rickshaw drivers, so we were on our own to haggle and discuss. A man agreed to take us to our home at 190 Pocket B, DDA Flats in Sukhdev Vihar. He ended up not knowing where this was and we made some circles and he asked people and finally dropped us at the gate. I felt bad because he was bicycling our big ol' American bodies around. He wanted Rs 10 more than we had agreed upon, which seemed somewhat reasonable but we didn't want to give him because it still was a very short ride, so that put me in a bad mood because I felt mean.
We asked a man how to get to 190 and wandered through a dark alley (bad idea in retrospect) with his directions. We popped out theoretically at 190, and after asking a bunch of other people where exactly it was, we found it. Bad news bears babygirl, though, because it wasn't our host family's house and the apartments didn't even look familiar. I called my host dad (while witnessing a dog fight) and we tried to figure out where we were, but we were still confused. A man led us to the main gate, at which point I was about to burst into exhaustion- and dehydration-fueled tears. Several very, very, very kind older Indian couples took pity on us and told us that we were not, in fact, in Sukhdev Vihar but instead were in the identically named DDA Flat in Sarita Vihar (thanks rickshaw man!). We had a pleasant conversation on the side of some mysterious road that we had been dropped on about us studying Hindi and one woman's godson in Chicago. They hailed a policeman, who hailed an auto driver (they do this sometimes to make sure the auto drivers aren't scamming people or doing anything generally unsavory). Finally we made it home, though even at the correct DDA Flats we had to ask a vegetable delivery man to show us to our home.
Being home and seeing Adil and Khadeeja and Iman was such a relief. I think there's no better way to make a place feel like home than returning there exhausted after getting lost and being able to talk to sympathetic people and drink milky chai and sit in bed. Indian hospitality is a lovely thing.
P.S. If it isn't already obvious, I just figured out how to add links to my posts so feel free to read about things I mention on Wikipedia!
Melissa Gordon | September 13, 2011 at 8:14 AM
i was going to comment but ill blitz it to you instead. this is so public. bottom line of blitz: you are a beautiful, strong, brave woman!
i love you!