Back Again

Coming back to Hyderabad was almost like coming home. It was sad to walk through the Hyderabad airport without Kaia and Diana, knowing that I wouldn't be seeing them this semester, but once I got back to Tagore and saw the other five people that stayed from last semester, I knew everything was going to be just fine.
It's hard to believe that I've already been back for nearly a month, but I'll try to recall everything accurately.
Spring semester at UoH technically started on January 3, but my plane ticket was already booked for January 7. By the time I got to Tagore on the 8th or 9th (once again, time zones are super confusing) I was kind of already known as the "mysterious late girl." I was afraid that I'd missed out on the essential bonding time with the new SIP students, but people were still settling in by the time I arrived. If anything, being the last person to get there just gave me an excuse to ask, "what is your name again?" for an extra week than was socially graceful.
Since all I brought back from India to the US in December was presents and my pillow, I had a lot of room in my backpack on my return trip. I filled up the entirety of my backpack with tampons and food. Like, the checked bag limit was 50lbs and my backpack was 47lbs. It took me one week to finish one of my bags of pretzel M&Ms and 3weeks to finish my first jar of peanut butter. We all have to make sacrifices while living abroad, but undoubtedly mine is the hardest.
All of the new people here are really great. There's more than there were last semester, but about half of them are all in home-stays, which makes it really hard to know everyone (at this point I've given up on ever knowing the home-stay kids). There are a lot more girls than boys, which has potential to be weird but since everyone is so nice its been really great so far.
As far as school goes everything actually seems to be a lot more organized this semester, which I think terrifies the new kids since they didn't think anything was organized at all. By the time I got here nearly everyone had bikes and phones and the classes on the course list were actually the classes being offered. This semester SIP got another Urdu professor (thank god) so I continuing with that in the hopes that I might actually learn something this time around. I'm also taking Indian Diaspora, Women's Movements in India, and Ayurveda.

Team Tagorgeous

The second week I was here, some girls were watching a cricket match on campus and a professor approached them and asked them if they wanted to set up an intramural team at Tagore. So when they started to ask around at Tagore I agreed, thinking it would be a fun way to meet new people and ridiculous to see a bunch of white girls playing cricket for the first time in India.
The first meeting/practice was on a Sunday afternoon, so me and a few of the girls walked across campus to meet up with the group. We met for about 2hr with the professor and a couple of students who had agreed to help out. Basically, there was a tournament being held the next week and since we had a team we'd be playing in it. At the end of practice the coach set up our next practice time, which was the next day at 6 in the fucking morning. He asked if that worked for everyone, and I was absolutely the most vocal in expressing that that did not work for me. I mean, thinking about me even participating in an organized sport is laughable, but then expecting me to wake up before noon to play that said sport is absurd. I politely informed the group that I would not be attending the 6am practices, but I was more than happy to practice outside Tagore with them between tea time and dinner (5-7pm). They said that was fine, therefore I did not even pretend to make an effort to get up for practice.
We were originally supposed to play our first game that coming Thursday, but India being India, our game was postponed until the next Tuesday. The tournament was "you lose, you're out style," and even though our coach told the girls that they weren't the worst he'd ever seen (allegedly, I wasn't there in the mornings to actually hear him say this), in no way did we expect to win any games.

"Go Tagorgeous!! Do it for all the samosas in India!!"

So as Tuesday loomed closer we practiced almost every afternoon and were feeling semi-confident. We showed up to our game on Tuesday in total style, all wearing our hideously matching SIP polos we were given and black leggings. As fate would have it, we had 13 girls ready to play, but only 11 players are ever on the field. I was the first to volunteer to sit out, seeing as I didn't commit myself to go to any of the practices and would've only been a hindrance on the field anyway. I designated myself official bag and water girl and cheered 'til I was hoarse. A little into the game some more Tagorians came with signs to cheer us on. We may have been the oddest group there, but we absolutely had the most spirit.
Despite the fact that we were a bunch of white girls who had been playing cricket for only a week, we played a really good game! I mean, we still lost, but only by 4 points! The referee/announcer said he was really impressed by us and told us that there would be another tournament in March. So hopefully we'll regroup, and I'll actually practice, so we can make a come back.

da Ladys

This month has also been FULL of birthdays! Marianna's was on Jan. 13th, mine on the 20th, Trudy's on the 24th, and Terence has on on February 11th. A whole bunch of us went out for dinner on Marianna's birthday and the following Friday a group of us went to a "Cuban" club for my birthday. The five of us from last semester (minus a guy named Kevin) went and it was a lot of fun. Of course, I say this retroactively because there's a lot of that night I can't remember. Trudy and Marianna bought me a flaming shot, then Terence one-up-ed them and bought me a bigger flaming shot! It was fun, but I can't see myself repeating the event.

Flaming Shot #2

That Sunday myself, Trudy, Marianna, and Connor went for lunch at this German bakery we discovered then we went to Snow World!!! It was by far the most ridiculous thing I've ever payed money to do, but it was still fun. Its basically just this huge indoor area that they pump full of artificial snow, filled with fake snow people, sleds, and about a million rubber balls. Once you get your ticket, you enter into the "preparation room" at your allotted time, where you and about 75 others are given identical red or blue coats, boots, and gloves. Then you have an hour to spend in the magic of Snow World!! We left after about 45min since we were not dressed appropriately for the -5 degrees celsius the room is kept at, but we had a good time.

SNOW WORLD!!!

That next weekend, nearly everyone left Tagore to go on some sort of trip. Since the gang that was here last semester isn't doing as much traveling this semester, we were part of the approximately 15 people left at Tagore. That Friday night, the 11 girls that were here grouped up and went to a "ladies night" at a club called Liquids. Basically, from 8:30-10 we wouldn't be charged a cover fee and all the drinks were free.  We got there around 8:45 and left at 10:30 and it was kind of a shit show, albeit a fun shit show. I think at least half the girls that went puked, either at the club, in the cab, or back at Tagore, and thankfully I was not one of those ladies. The next day I don't think a single one of us actually left Tagore and we were all in various stages of hungover, sprawled throughout the common and tv room.
God, I really should've broken this post up into 2 posts, but now I'm nearly done!
The last memorable event of the 3 and a half weeks I've been back took place at a house warming party last Friday. Two of the SIP girls, one from Sweden and one from Canada, opted to not live in Tagore and got an apartment really close to campus. So on Friday they threw a party and invited all of Tagore and some other friends they'd met in classes. The party was really fun and we didn't even stay too late, but for some reason I took it upon myself to drink the entire, small-ish bottle of gin I brought. I was drunk.
As we were walking back the group I was with split up, and I joined the group going to the rock temple that I've always passed but never gone into. We walked inside and everything was fine, until drunk Harper decided she needed to go bouldering. I swear to god, if I had been sober and had my climbing shoes on everything would've been fine, but I didn't, so it wasn't.
I did not successfully make it on top of the rock I was climbing, and when I fell off I landed really badly on my left foot. I sat there for a while, but then got up and limped back to campus. Predictably, I've been told that I didn't allow anyone to help me walk back, which I'm sure did more damage to my already swollen ankle. Once I got back to my room and properly looked at it, it became fairly evident that I needed to seek medical help. My ankle was 2-3 times its normal size, had already bruised to blue and purple, and had a huge knot bulging off the left side. However, I was drunk so I went to sleep.

da bum foot

I woke up on Saturday totally fine, but when I tried to get out of bed I literally fell on my face, since my left leg could support NONE of my weight. So I laid there for a while and kind of tried to hop around my room, but it was comically frustrating. After about 15minutes Marianna came bursting into my room ready to help. Evidently, I had sent her a plea for help the previous night, informing her that we should probably go to the hospital. She helped me get dressed and after lunch she, Terence, and I went to the hospital.
Overall, the experience was more comical than anything just because of how fucking helpless I am. I got an xray at the hospital, so its definitely not fractured, but for all of yesterday I really couldn't use my left leg at all. It's been better today and I can manage to walk on it, but I just look like a cripple and it takes me forever to do anything. Really, I think this will just be a learning experience and hopefully it will encourage future me to ask for help when I need it.
So today, due to my bum ankle, I could not attend Hyderabad's first Pride Parade/Festival with everyone else, so I've been at Tagore... all alone... blogging... and watching the paint dry, metaphorically that is.

Home for the Holidays

This past October, while everyone was beginning to figure out their winter break plans, I was utterly befuddled. Coming into the semester I had every intention of staying in India for my full 10months, however, I had no idea what I wanted to do with myself for the month we had off over Christmas.

I had no problem traveling by myself, but after I looked at all my possibilities I discovered that the only place I really wanted to go was the Himalayas. 

Well, even if you hardly know me you probably know that I am not a creature suited for cold climates, so the Indian Himalayas in December was probably not the place for me. I also wanted to travel somewhere I hadn’t been before, which basically takes out all of Rajasthan. Then I considered volunteering somewhere for the entire month, that way I could really become a part of a community and develop a routine, and so forth. However, all of the places that I investigated required me to pay to volunteer for them, and a lot of the places asked for American dollars, so that quickly became out of my budget.

Unlike my Norwegians, all of my friends are poor and have families that care about them and want them to be home for Christmas, so I didn’t even have anyone to tour around India with. I considered tagging along with the Norwegians and their Norwegian friends that were coming, but I decided I would ultimately be too American for them, so I nixed that idea too.
About midway through October my mom emailed me in a continuing plea for me to come home for Christmas. For the first time, this actually began to seem like an option. Once I told her that I was considering it she responded by saying she would pay for my ticket and we could take my dad by complete surprise! Being the daddy’s girl I am I generally said “fuck it” and booked a round trip home (using Cheapoair.com, which sounds super sketchy but they have some good prices).

As fall semester came to a close I got more and more excited about coming home. Now that I’d let it come a possibility, and it was actually happening, I was extremely excited to get home! I missed my animals and my friends and America dammnit! I had a mental list of all the food I was going to eat and had an actual list of all the food/products that the people who weren’t going home for Christmas needed.
Not only was I going to surprise my dad, but I had also decided to surprise one of my best friends, Keli. I probably told a total of 5 people about my return home. My mother reacted differently. She told my entire family, all her friends, and my grandmother’s surgeon, who, coincidentally, is my dad’s best friend. I have no idea how word didn’t get back to my dad, but my secret was somehow still safe.

According to my mom, my dad was handling my “not coming home for Christmas” very poorly. He too had tried to bribe me to come home, offering trips to Disney World and even a new car, but I continued to decline and “assured” him that I was going to travel up north with my Norwegians. My dad didn’t take this well. Apparently he would regularly stomp around the house and declare that “there would be no Christmas this year!” because I wouldn’t be home. My poor little brother began to get his feelings hurt since he, apparently, wasn’t reason enough to celebrate Christmas. Moments like this make me wonder how he sometimes feels knowing that I’m the favorite child, but can you blame my parents? I’m obviously the better choice.
Also, if anyone has ever wondered why I stomp and whine until I get my way, at least we now all know who I get it from.
Finally, I was in Varanasi, readying myself to say goodbye to my wonderful friends from last semester before I went back to Hyderabad to catch a flight back to good ole’ Nashvegas. However, as I think I alluded to in my last post, I failed to make my train back to Hyderabad. The same train, leaving the next day, was totally full and since it was a 29hr train ride I basically didn’t have enough time to get back to Hyderabad in order to catch my flight out of the country.

Long story short, I had to call my mom and have her get me a ridiculously expensive ticket from Varanasi to Hyderabad, but there was really no other option. So after she has transferred me the money and I bought the ticket, I sent her an email confirming the ticket purchase and thanking her again, ending the email with “see you Friday!” It would be my downfall.
Once I got back to Tagore, in Hyderabad, my mom had responded to my email saying that my dad had seen the last email I sent her and saw that I wrote “see you Friday!” My mom fessed up to our plan, but alas, our long, carefully schemed surprise was ruined.

There's rarely enough room for me on my bed.

I actually think that it was probably better this way. If I appeared back at home on Friday unannounced and totally took my dad by surprise, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it if he had begun to cry. I would’ve just slowly backed out of the room, then the house, and would’ve sought refuge in a very public place until it was safe to return home, once all of the feelings had been suppressed back to their usual depth beneath the soul. I mean, that’s how all families deal with shit, right?

But I was back home and it was great. Within 10minutes of being home I was on the end of the couch with Lucky on my lap, Obie next to me, and Huck on the other end. I went to bed that night (with Chrysanthemum next to my head, Obie at my feet and Lucky on my legs) and continued to sleep for the next 18hours. The only thing I had left to do was go to Maryville the following Tuesday to surprise Keli.

My plan was to just show up at her dorm and invite her out to dinner, like nothing was unusual about my appearance, however I had agreed to meet with my advisor at 3 that afternoon. My mission, which was to walk into Thaw, get to Dr. Henson’s office, and then leave Thaw without ANYONE seeing me, would require a lot of stealth and espionage, but I was prepared.

I drove my mom’s Prius to Maryville, since my car is hideously recognizable, parked on the side of Thaw, and went in through the side door. I cautiously walked down the hall, passed three people, none of whom I recognized. However, despite my lack of recognition, one of the three people I passed apparently recognized me and waved. I waved back, smiled, and wondered where/if we had ever met. 

I had my meeting, met up with my man, had a very enjoyable afternoon, then, once evening approached, went to collect Keli for dinner (I had been in contact with her roommates, so I knew she was free). I walked up to her apartment, knocked on her door, and when she answered she screamed “I knew it!!” then shut the door on my face.

She eventually reopened it, we hugged, we laughed, we cried, and we collected Hayden and went to Tomato Head. Apparently the ONE girl that recognized me sent out a single text alerting Hayden’s girlfriend to my sudden reappearance on campus. She told Hayden, who told Keli, who then drove around the parking lots on campus to see if she could recognize my car. I mean, I literally saw THREE students for the hour I was in Thaw and with a single text my months of planning had been compromised. Damn you small liberal arts schools, damn you.

Other than seeing friends, I did nothing for the entirety of my break, which was exactly what I wanted. I did do a lot of eating though. I mean, I think the month I was home was the first time since I went through puberty/developed a body image that I ate anything and everything without a single thought or care. There was no inner dialogue of “Harper, you’ve had enough sweets today. Why don’t you eat some carrots?” or “Harper, you’re not actually hungry, you just want to eat that. Put it down.”

BFFFs

I ate cake AND carrots. I didn’t put it down. I ate continuously for the whole month I was home and didn’t give three fucks about it. I gained all the weight back that I lost in India and then some, but did I care? Nope. And it was great.

While I was home I saw The Hobbit twice, which was wonderful (says the LotR nerd). I caught up with my three best friends since pre/elementary-school. We had an unofficial MLK c/o ’09 reunion on December 27^th, which turned out to be tons of fun. Approximately 50(?) people showed up and it was great to see how everyone had changed (or didn’t) for the better (or worse).

The next day I got to hang out (babysit) with Jack(6) and Knox(3). I’ve babysat Jack since he was 2, so I have a lot invested in this little guy’s well being. Knox was born while I was backpacking in Asia, so I don’t know him as well, but he’s basically just a big ball of little-boy and continually cracks me up. I’ve always known Jack would love Legos once he was old enough, so now that he’s in kindergarten I got him a set for Christmas.

Well, apparently this was the first “real” set he’d gotten (according to Jack) and he absolutely loved it. I figured I’d have to help him read through the little instruction booklet to put the dump truck and explosive set together, but he took to it like a freakin’ fish takes to water and I think I had to help him like once when he accidentally skipped a page. He never ceases to amaze me. Next thing I know he’ll be reading me books instead, and that will be my cue to start having my own babies or buying my first batch of cats. I got Knox some Duplos, which he liked, but he was far more interested in Mickey’s Christmas Carol, which was understandable.

For New Year’s Eve, Bowen and myself went up to Keli’s boyfriend’s cabin for a few days. We shot off fireworks, guns, and played rook. There was one day where I woke up at 11, got coffee and ate entire bag of puppy chow, then went back to bed until 3. Fun was had by all.
I was scheduled to go back to Hyderabad on January 7^th, and even though I had a great time being home, I was ready to get started on my spring semester. Even though I still don’t quite know how to put it into words, I really missed India while I was gone. 

At home, people would ask me to tell them about all of my “adventures,” but I just had no idea what to say. I ended up talking a lot about the cows, which I did miss a lot, but it’s really hard to describe India to people who have never experienced it. God, I hate saying that because I know how pretentious I must sound, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

Traveling opens a person up to new and different worlds and perspectives, but India isn’t just a different world, it’s a whole different universe! I’ve come to the conclusion that no one, regardless of caste/socio-economic class or heritage, lives in India; you have to survive India. 

I mean, it is hard to live here, especially being a young, white, ginger woman. While its a general consensus that America is a patriarchal society, just saying that in India is laughable, just because it’s so damn obvious. Three facts about India: 1) It runs on Indian Standard Time 2) It’s the world’s largest (most populous) democracy 3) It’s a patriarchal society. 

My guy friends here have no problem going off and traveling on their own, using couchsurfing and having great experiences, but you just cannot do that being a woman. India can be so backwards; they’ve had a woman prime minister, something the US still hasn’t managed, but whenever a group of us go out the rickshaw drivers and waiters always direct all of their questions toward the men in our group. 

This is definitely a tangent that arguably doesn’t have anything to do about my holiday back home, but the thing I hate most about India is that I’m not just a “person,” I am a women and I am white, and here that makes a difference in every aspect of life.
I can’t put into words what I like about India, because I do really like it here. Maybe I don’t know. But that’s clearly a goal for this semester, to find out what about this huge subcontinent makes me keep coming back.

Me, Sabina, Mo @ reunion

Mony, Me, Maddie, Mo @ reunion

Going to the park is very serious business

I miss them every second of every day.
Yes, I will die alone with 30 cats.

City of the Dead

November 23-29*
Once our semester came to a close, Terence, Trudy, Marriana, myself, and our two Indian friends, Amresh and Sheila, took off to Araku Valley. It was a 14hr train ride, and for some unknown reason we rode on a day train, but the valley was very beautiful and it was nice to see more of Andhra Pradesh (the state that Hyderabad is in). After 3 or 4 days in Araku Valley, we seperated from Sheila and Amresh and took a train to Kolkata, where Diana met back up with us. Unfortunately I was a bit sick while we were there, so I didn't feel as though I got a very good "feel" for the city, but I think it was the dirtiest city in India I've been to so far.
One afternoon we met up with a friend of Marianna and Trudy who lives in Kolkata. She invited us to her house and her mom made us tea and traditional Bengali desserts. It was great and so nice to get off the streets and spend time in someone's home. Terence left us in Kolkata and the four of us went on to Varanasi, where Kaia joined us.
November 30-December 4*
Let me say, Varanasi is, hands down, my favorite city that I've yet visited in India. The city was originally dedicated to Shiva (the Hindu god I've always favored) and is situated right alongside the Ganges river. Of course, the Ganges is seen as an incredibly holy river and Hindus believe that if you wash in it you will be cleansed of all your sins, and if you're cleansed in it and burned by it after you die your soul immediately reaches "nirvana."
We stayed in Varanasi's Old City, which is located right behind the Ghats (which are the "steps" they burn the bodies on). The Old City wasn't so much a city as it was just a labyrinth of alleyways and narrow streets. Cars and rickshaws can't drive through it, so it's very quiet considering how conglomerated and populated the area is. Of course, it was all too normal for a single cow to block an entire street and we'd frequently have to step to the side when funeral processions passed, carrying the dead wrapped on a colorful stretcher over their heads.

Manikarnika Ghat
(from Wiki)

Most bodies are burned at the Manikarnika Ghat. Passerbys are welcomed to stop and watch the cremations take place, but pictures are not allowed, something which you'll be told 1000 times if you have a camera over your shoulder. We were told that any Hindu is welcomed to be buried at the Ghats, unless it's a pregnant women, a child under 10, or someone who died of leprosy or a snake bite. Behind this ghat there is a huge well that is supposed to have been dug by Vishnu after his wife, Parvati, dropped her earring down it.
The Ganges has a reputation as being a horribly polluted and disgusting river and we found no evidence to the contrary. We didn't see any floating bodies, thank goodness, but hundreds of people bathe in it and drink the water. I had every intention of bathing in it as well, but then Diana talked me into reading some health reports about it. For instance, did you know that over 10million gallons of untreated sewage are dumped in the Ganges on a daily basis? I decided against having my soul purified.
Behind the ghats, in the Old City, there are a lot of shopping and restaurants catered to Western tourists and backpackers, so, like always, we ate really well in Varanasi. Its incredibly easy to get lost walking through the Old City. In fact, I think I only didn't get lost going back to our hostel just once or twice. One afternoon I took off on my own and purposefully got lost for a few hours. I had a blast and found a cafe with awesome scones that we went back to the next day.
The ghats stretch on for miles and miles, so walking along them and just taking in the sights was something we did nearly every day. That's got to be one of the reasons why I like Varanasi so much; yes, it is definitely a touristy city, but on the ghats it is just so unashamedly Hindu. Cremating bodies on the Ganges is something that has been going on for centuries, and even though a lot of white people come to watch, nobody stops what they're doing to try and accomodate for them.
Some of my friend's had a hard time watching the bodies being cremated, but it really didn't bother me and I found it beautifully fascinating. I find putting dead bodies in coffins and then in the ground incredibly disturbing to begin with, so I was just a lot more comfortable with the total acceptance of cremation. I just found it so awe-inspiring that no one was trying to hide the fact that this city has become famed for death. Even though its a daily occurrence all over the world, its very respected and ritualized here. It's just another part of the normal, Varanasi life.
When it gets down to it, I think thats what bothers me so much about death rituals in the United States. We treat death as if it's always so unexpected and sudden, and though it certainly can be, but really it is just as natural as birth. It's just the end of a cycle, but not the end of every cycle. Its just another beginning, and that beginning is sure made a hell of a lot easier if you aren't pumped up with embalming fluid, stuffed in a synthetic coffin and buried in the vicinity of thousands of other identical corpses.

Diana in the Old City

Scavenging Cow

The Ghats

Ganges at Sunrise

Temple on the Ganges

Woman Bathing

Fishing Baskets

Nandi, Shiva's Bull

This blog entry is dedicated in thanks to Amanda.
*approximately 

Mumbai

We'd been trying to find a good time to go to Mumbai all semester, so we finally decided to go over Diwali. We left last Thursday and then came back on the following Wednesday, which was fine because we didn't have classes at the beginning of the week. Originally it was me, Kaia, Marianna, Trudy, and Diana, but then Maclain decided to come to, although she left on Sunday night and Diana left Monday night.

The train from Hyderabad to Mumbai was 17hr, and, as always, it sucked. I just do not like Indian trains. They are not fun for me, so it's gonna be great when I'm taking the 30hr train from Varanasi to Hyderabad in a few weeks...

But we got to Mumbai around 7am, found a hotel, dumped our shit, and went to India's one and only Starbucks! It was perfection. It was just like any American Starbucks, but it was in India. My coffee was excellent and so was my mushroom and chicken pie.
So let's talk about our hotel. When we first arrived we went to several different hotels, but they were all out of our budget. I mean, we knew Mumbai was going to be expensive, especially since it was Diwali, but we're also all poor students (Well, except the Norwegians. Did you know the Norwegian government gives them a stipend every semester just for funsies? Stupid socialists...). We decided on Hotel Janata, mostly because we were all tired and it was the first one we found that we could afford. We slept 3 to a room, which was fine since Maclain and Diana were leaving early. As usual, you had the option to pay more for an AC room, but we just went with the rooms with fans. However, the manager put Marianna, Maclain, and I in an AC room, which had no ventilation. I kid you not, our room was a fucking sauna. When we tried to move rooms he wouldn't let us and tried to charge us extra. Eventually we just ended up paying the Rs300 extra/night for the AC. There were also cockroaches in the rooms and they were generally dirty with stained sheets. He was incredibly rude to Marianna and straight up told us that the only one of us he liked was Maclain. We considered switching hotels several times, but ultimately decided against it. Needless to say, both us and him was grateful when we finely left.

Without a doubt, one of the best things about Mumbai, which we spent a considerable amount of time doing, was eating. In itself, Mumbai is a very Western city. It really felt like we were in Europe, except we were surrounded by Indians. All of the buildings are old and beautiful (obvious signs of the British Raj) and the drivers even abided by the traffic lights! A nice thing was that rickshaws aren't allowed in the city center, so it's a lot quieter and all the cabs go by meters. 

Anyway, the food. The food was great, particularly the bakeries. We got fabulous coffee and pastries nearly everywhere. We found this one French-style bakery(kind of like Provence in Nashville) where we ate breakfast several times. It was absurdly expensive, but incredibly delicious. We only ever ordered the bread basket, to share, and then we each got a pastry or fruit cup. I swear, I ate the best chocolate croissant I've ever had in my entire life there, and I've had a lot of chocolate croissants. The bread baskets were more than enough because it came with jars of their freshly prepared jam(with REAL fruit) and a homemade nutella spread. It was heaven. 

I felt dumb once I realized this, but it took me two days to remember about the terrorist attacks that happened in Mumbai in 2008. It was partially targeted towards Mumbai's small Jewish community and quite a lot of people died. However, I think I didn't think about it because the city literally has no remnants of it. Everything looked completely normal, with no construction or anything. Maybe thats normal, I guess I just assumed it takes longer to recover from those types of things. I mean, didn't the 9/11 memorial only open up fairly recently? I guess that's just the American in me that doesn't realize how common terrorist attacks are in the rest of the world.

One of the places that was bombed was the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. I'm not sure if this was the original Taj Palace Hotel, but back in the early 1900s the founding Mr. Tata (who are basically Indian royalty) was denied entrance in a fancy hotel because he was a "native." So he was all like, "Well fuck that! I'll build my own hotel!" So he did, only it soon became one of the most elegant and luxurious hotels in the world. Now there are several worldwide, but the one in Mumbai doesn't allow visitors. Well obviously, we were having none of that. 

One afternoon, Kaia and I were nicely showered and dressed, so we decided to pop into the Taj for a bit. We were nearly caught and kicked out several times, but we totally did it! And let me tell you, I bet every room in the Taj has AC and a cockroach has never stepped a leg inside. It is nice. Super, super nice. We didn't take pictures because that would've given us away, but we stole some toilet paper (which is Kleenex brand and really soft) and a pad of paper and pencil from beside a phone in the hallway. 

One of the most striking things about India, and Mumbai in particular, is how close in proximity the rich and poor live together. I've been in India for about 5months now, and I've never seen as many beggars as I did in Mumbai, particularly children. Mumbai is home to Dharavi Slum, Asia's largest slum, in population, not area, and its located between two major railways in the middle of the city. Strangely enough, the shape of the slum is actually quite similar to a heart, so the slum is also called "The Heart of Mumbai."

I know this is going to sound weird, but one of the best things we did was go on a slum tour. It was recommended to us by both Lonely Planet and another group of friends that went to Mumbai several weeks earlier. We went with a company called Reality Tours, and they put 80% of the money you pay for the tour back into the slum. They've built schools, a community center, and various art projects. A couple of the girls had reservations about taking a slum tour, for obvious reasons, but I actually didn't. I felt really good about going with Reality Tours, but part of me also knew that if we didn't take a slum tour I probably would've just taken it upon myself to walk through the slum, which definitely would not have been safe.

We met the tour guides and a larger group at a nearby train station and then took a train to where the slum is. We were then handed off to another tour guide who just took the six of us around, so it was a fairly intimate process. We crossed a bridge that lead over some railroad tracks and were emptied into a street that looked like it could've been anywhere in India. The Reality Tours has a strict "no photography" policy, but there was no obvious signs that we had just entered a slum. There were a lot of people around, but it was early on a Saturday morning in India, so even that wasn't too strange. 

We began the tour with the Industrial District of Dharavi. So everywhere in India there is almost always some poor person collecting plastics and aluminums from all of the various garbage heaps and cans. In Mumbai, different companies and manufacturers in the Industrial District buy the plastics and aluminums from the garbage collectors and in the slum they are cleaned and melted down to be recycled into new products. 

molding hot aluminum into something new
(the slum pictures were provided by Reality Tours via email)

All of the "new" products produced in the slum are usually small parts that are required in larger appliances and electronics and are all generally sold to Indian companies. All of the workers are quite used to tour groups (aka, a bunch of white people) wandering through their factories, so we got to watch them go along with their usual business. Most of the factories we saw dealt with plastics and metals, but one recycled used ink pen ink. 

The Industrial District is definitely the most dangerous and poorest part of the slum. The working conditions are horrible and ridiculously unhealthy. I mean, these men are melting plastic bottles and aluminum cans all day and inhaling all of those toxic fumes. According to our guide, these workers come from small farming villages up North when its no longer harvest season. The factory owners let them sleep in the factory at night (which also provides the factory with free security) so the workers are always on time. Depending on the factory owner, some of the workers are compensated for on-the-job injuries, but not always. Most of the factories provide protective wear, but in the Mumbai heat wearing a thick suit and gloves while working around an incinerator all day is not ideal. 

cleaning out old oil & paint cans before they're melted down

After the Industrial District we moved on to the Residential District of the slum. Nowadays its generally divided between Hindu and Muslim communities, but apparently it wasn't always like this. Prior to 1992 nobody really cared where you lived or what religion you were, but then there were some terrorist attacks and a lot of religious violence, so the communities divided up (Remember in Slumdog Millionaire when Jamaal's mom is killed? I think that was a depiction of the violence in the early 90s). I'm not quite sure how to accurately describe the houses there. The neighborhood was generally dirty and smelled, and all of the houses were just one room with a communal toilet and wash area nearby. However, every house has electricity and gets water in the mornings. The residents also have to pay rent, which is about Rs.40,000/month ($800) and because of it's central location, property in the slum is a hot commodity. 

One of the most enlightening things I learned was that nearly everyone living in the slum has a stable job. Of course the Muslim women can't work, but people who live in Dharavi are taxi drivers, waiters, janitors, ect. I had always kind of assumed that the beggars we encountered wandered around the streets during the day, but then went back to their house in the slum at night. While the people living in Dharavi are poor, they aren't living on the streets, which means that the beggars who live on the street literally have nothing except what they can carry on their person, and considering all the street children there are in Mumbai, realizing that is very unsettling. 

The Muslim area was very cramped, with tight winding passages and stacked, multi-story buildings. However, the Hindu area had more open-air and was noticeably cleaner (Our guide said this was because keeping a clean house was so important in Hinduism, but I think he was Hindu so I'm sure he's biased). 

Near the Muslim-Hindu community divide there was an open space, covered in garbage, where a bunch of kids were playing cricket and running around. Unless a child is potty trained I think Indian parents find it pointless to even put pants on that child, so there was a whole bunch of naked toddlers running around Mumbai. Consequently, I don't think I've ever seen so many little toddler penises and I'll be quite fine if I never see so many again. However, while we were in the area where the kids were playing we kind of integrated ourselves with the kids and played with them for a bit. I put myself on official "pants-patrol," so if any little kid that actually had pants was showing a half-moon or a bit of crack I'd walk over and help to pull their pants back up. 

We ended the tour by walking through the Dharavi potter community, which I was particularly interested in. Unfortunately we didn't hang around very long because our guide said that the residents weren't being very friendly that particular day, but it was still very interesting. 

a woman in the pottery 

Despite being in a slum, I really enjoyed myself on the tour. We learned a whole lot and got even more out of it. We asked our guide what the Dharavi residents thought of all the tour groups coming through, and he said that they actually didn't mind it too much. Apparently there was a lot of discord with the way Slumdog Millionaire portrayed Indian/Mumbai slums (the movie was actually shot on-location in Dharavi), so the locals are glad that people are coming to get a more accurate depiction of slum life. However, because of Slumdog the residents are really wary of being photographed, which is mainly why the "no photography"  policy is so strict. 

I know that sometimes I tend to be a little standoffish, particularly with Indian men. Believe it or not, I've actually been told that I can be quite intimidating, however, I don't think I ever stopped smiling on the tour. There was just so many children, and I always smile at kids, and I just really wanted the people we saw to know that I didn't view them negatively because of where they lived and how that's stereotyped, particularly by the West. Yes, I know I was on a slum tour, but I just hoped that me smiling at them was able to translate that somehow. 

me and the doomed kitty

On a brighter note, there were tons of cats in Mumbai. Like, everywhere and most of them liked being pet. One little kitten smartly staked out his home right outside of Starbucks, so every time we passed him he was being fed or pet by some tourist. Unfortunately he looked quite sick and on the last day we were there we went to Starbucks early in the morning and he had died some time the previous night. There were dogs in Mumbai too, but not as many as usual in India, and all the dogs we did see were always fat and sleeping. 

I've observed a pattern in cities in India. It seems to be a symbol of social status if you own a fat, yellow lab. Without fail, in every large Indian city I've visited, I've seen Indians walking obese yellow labs. I've still seen this even if I'm only in a big city long enough to catch a bus and leave. I had several of these sightings in Mumbai, which lead to the formation of this theory. 

Our last night in Mumabi was Diwali, which is the Hindu New Year. Also known as "the festival of lights," Diwali is usually celebrated with a bunch of fireworks and Christmas-esque lights strung up all over the place. At this point in our trip it was just Trudy, Marianna, Kaia, and I, and since most everything was closed for Diwali, we spent all day at Starbucks studying for our exams. 

We went to a New York/Mexican place for dinner and I had a delicious Oreo milkshake. Afterwards we hung out on Mumbai's beach promenade and waited for some fireworks. We stayed there for well over an hour, but nothing exciting was really happening. We'd see the occasional fireworks in the distance, but it was really just kind of lame. We decided to go to a nearby coffee shop, so we hung out there for another couple of hours. 

Once we decided to go home, we walked back out on to the main road and there were fireworks everywhere! This was a busy, four lane street, and people were lighting firework after firework on both sides. And these weren't just little firecrackers and bottle rockets, there were the big ass fireworks that are usually shot off in firework celebrations. Only they weren't a "safe" distance away from the crowd, they were in the crowd. So when one was blasted up and exploded we could all feel the ash floating back down and landing on us. It was awesome, but also kind of scary. 

By the time we left on Wednesday I think we were all fairly ready to leave. Big cities are expensive and we'd been away for nearly a week, so we were beginning to miss our Tagore family. The Norwegians wrote a song about Hyderabad that we always sing in the airport when we get back from a trip. To the tune of "Oh Christmas Tree" it goes:
"Oh Hyderabad

Oh Hyderabad

Its nice to be in Hyderabad

'Cause when you are in Hyderabad

You're so much closer to Tagore

Oh Hyderabad

Oh Hyderbad

Its nice to be in Hyderabad"

The water may be toxic, but the bay is real pretty

The Gateway of India

Victoria Station

Mumbai has this wall where you're allowed to make art and such on it.
This was one of my favorite
(The word around her wrist as handcuffs is "dowry") 

The Taj Mahal Palace and Gateway of India

Apparently Bowen has a cult following in Mumbai

Dear Blog, I Swear I Haven't Forgotten About You...

So I genuinely feel bad about being so neglectful with my blog lately. It's funny, because I actually think about my blog quite often and form posts in my mind, but then my procrastination takes over and I never get around to sitting down to write anything. I've actually started a few posts, but then I've never gotten around to finishing them. So here's an update:
At the beginning of October, myself, Diana, Trudy, Kaia, and Marianna went to Mysore. It was just a long weekend, but we had a really good time. It was a very relaxing and easy-going city. One day we hired a rickshaw driver to drive us around the city and give us a bit of a tour. He was really nice and very knowledgable, and charged us a really good rate. We ate breakfast at a cafe in the Green Hotel everyday. The hotel was quite fancy and hosted almost exclusively white, British people, but the cafe was run entirely by women who were from the lowest caste bracket, the Dalits. The food and coffee was delicious and the bread was freshly baked and heavenly.

My first sip of delicious beer

A few weeks later, in mid-October, I embarked on a trekking trip with Diana, Connor, and Terrence. We spent a day in Bangalore, and it kind of really sucked. Basically its just a big transport city, so you only really need to go there if you're on your way to somewhere else. The only redeeming part was when we went to India's only microbrewery that night and I had my first decent beer in months. The next day we took a bus to a little town called Madikeri, which is situated in the foothills of the Western Ghats. Although Madikeri wasn't all that great, the surrounding area was gorgeous and reminded me a lot of the Smokies. We were supposed to go on an overnight trek, however, the night before we were to leave Diana and I got quite sick. Like, "vomit was going out of my nose" sick. So the guys basically carried us to the bus station and we went to Mysore, which is between Madikeri and Bangalore, to recover.
When I was in Mysore for the second time I bought a beautiful sari, but I had to get it shipped to Hyderabad and that's been a bit of a hassle. I still don't have it and I would like to get it tailored (actually turned into a sari) before I leave for my Christmas travels. We went to Mumbai over Diwali, but I'm going to devote an entire post to that trip. Mostly I've just been trying to save money by hanging around Hyderabad when I'm not traveling.
This past week has been exam week, which has been stressful, as always, but I'm nearly done. I just have Urdu next Wednesday.
I read JK Rowling's new book, The Casual Vacancy, and I really enjoyed it. It was like meeting an old friend again after being a part for a while, although it was weird to read her writing about masturbation and other "adult situations." I mean, obviously Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindor boys "relieved themselves," but I just assume let them have their privacy.
It's incredibly strange that I've only got a week left of this semester. I just don't know where the time went, but I guess that's always the case when you're enjoying yourself. Before we left for Mysore, all of the SIP students put on a Cultural Evening, which the whole campus was invited to. I guess we were kind of "required" to put on the show, but everything was pulled off entirely by us, the students. It turned out really nicely. The sitar, kuchipudi and Bollywood dance, and tabla classes all performed, a few of the Hindi students put on a skit, and several people sang and guitared it up. Connor made some video-shorts that were really funny and at the end we had a flash mob of Gangnam Style. After the show Tagore hosted a really nice dinner that everyone was invited to. Overall, a good time was had by all.
I just can't imagine Tagore without all of these people here. I mean, I'm sure next semester I'll grow to be just as fond of the new group, but it'll definitely be an adjustment.
I think that's about it. Obviously more has happened, but my shit-memory just can't recall any of it. I'll write about Mumbai soon, I pinky promise!
Here are some pictures:

Entrance to the Green Hotel & cafe

Outside of Mysore Palace

In the market in Mysore

On the way to a waterfall in Madikeri

The Western Ghats

I'm just really happy with this picture

The kuchipudi dancers at the Cultural Evening

Thomas performing with the sitar class.
His enthusiasm while playing only made the crush I have on him bigger.