Well, no new posts must mean that she is on her way.....
Littlek--
Are you going to keep a vigil for your roommate? Or will you worry at certain scheduled hours?
The time of overly lengthy journals is here. Wee. And I haven't even left the country yet...
So it begins...or the Indian Diary of the Worldly and Streetsmart Traveler No. 3
Movie. Must watch a movie. Have a beer. Sit down.
How do people do it? Shanti was telling me yesterday that she usually packs within half an hour. I started at 11am. It's 10pm now and I just closed the suitcase. I can say proudly that it is at least 1/2 empty, though for fairness' sake, I need to add that it's a monster of a suitcase. But it's the only one where the two giant paper rolls I'm bringing for our training would fit. Not that I pack in one go either. I don't do anything straightforwardedly. While I pack I find things that distsract me in the process. Thus I did my manicure and pedicure, since I found the dearly missed awesome nailfile that was hiding in a pile of papers, I stitched some missing buttons on things, went to buy another Wild Turkey bottle for Andreas to bring to Hyderabad (he requested two). I also washed my Timbuk2 bag and my Fighter Club sneakers and while I was collecting them from the garden where they were drying, I watered the lawn and all the plants. That's at least 4 hours of activities right there. Plus trying on all of my t-shirts to see which will cover my new tattoo. I'd rather not display it to the 200 students that are devoutedly Christian, conservative, timid, and uptight.
I wish they were handing out the Wild Turkey t-shirts with those bottles I bought. Since it's my dad's favorite bourbon as well, I've been buying it for some time. It came with a t-shirt once that depicts a very red turkey and says 'Wild Turkey' on it. That's all. Looks funny on my father, to say the least. It goes well with his collection of t-shirts, many of which are inheritance from my teenage years. There's the 'Psycho' t-shirt, the 'Nirvana In Utero' t-shirt, the crazy army t-shirt... He wears them all. To work. Combined with short shorts, long socks, and sandals. He's a professor, mind you. Oh well, I embraced it as a charming element of his character. I used to concern myself a great deal with what he wears, inspect his outfit before he leaves the house, but these days it actually warms my heart to see his silly outfits. Whenever he buys a piece of clothing for himself, it guarantees to be a lot of fun, if hideous. His suits have a colorful checkered inside that shows on cuffs and collar, his pants will have twenty pockets and fifty buttons... Seems that I'm homesick. If I could choose whether to fly to Hyderabad, New Zealand, Brazil, Rwanda, tropical islands of the Carribean, or Slovakia tomorrow, I would not hesitate. Well, I'd think about Rwanda for 10 seconds, but still. I am due to go home for awhile.
But I'm not going home. I'm going to Hyderabad. (Bummer. Oh poor me). Via Newark and New Delhi. There I meet David and Brigitt, and we'll stay in 'Hotel Star' near the airport. Hotel Star is sending a driver for 'Sir Dagmar" to pick us up. I reserved our rooms over email, and it seems that it never dawned on them I could possibly be a female. I am in charge, arranging things, I must be a Sir Dagmar. Sure made for a good nickname.
I shall watch Hotel Rwanda now to get ready for the trip. Don't ask me how, I'm not even sure how myself, but it does make perfect sense deep down in my head. The Department of Homeland Security and their freezing of all pending applications, which screwed me over big time, is to be thanked for my gloomy mood. But musn't grumble. There are always worse things in the world than not being able to work or possibly face deportation. Like... genocide. Which is why I read Dallaire, Gourevitch, or Powers in bed before I switch the lamp off.
I should seek inspiration from my five year old nephew. He repeated the mantra I taught him to me on the phone today:"I choose to be happy! I choose to be happy!" And he's bloody right.
Hotel Rwanda it is. Whee! More to come... from Hyderabad.
we're boarding. final call. bye bye a2k.
i'm leaving. really. 3.....2.....1.....zero. i have left and am on a plane. well, amost.
Hurrah, I love it when the long journal entries start...
You forgot to mention that cape cod returnees often have sunburned faces except around their eyes where their sunglasses have been. And the shell necklaces.....
The U.S. customs let me out of the country suspiciously easily. I think the U.S. purged me out of its system. Flushed me out. Handle on my suitcase promptly broke as soon as I got out of the train, so it was a bit challenging to drag it across to the check in, but I prevailed. The flight itself took mere 14 hours. The stewards and stewardesses were a meticulous selection of the most unappealing, arrogant and smelly humans. They really must have spent hours getting that team together. The Cromagnon lookig steward with sweat maps on his ugly polyesther blue uniform was constantly leaning over me to "help" the woman in the window seat who didn't speak English. In fact he was showing her tray up, nearly catapulted her to the front of the plane when he brought her seat up, etc. Last time I flew with Continental, I tell ya.
In Delhi I met with Brigitt and David who came in an hour later from Zurich. We battled our way through the confusing abundant airport staff who do their best to confuse and mislead you to the domestic terminal. The airport staff is a funny thing. At the India tourist information kiosk, there were about 10 men and one woman sitting at different counters. We approached them several times - first to find out information about a dormitory at the airport, or shuttle to domestic terminal, later just to test what they will do. Invariably, all men asked pointed us to the one woman among them. Within an hour that we observed them I did not see any trace of any other work they would be doing. The various other uniformed airport people (hundreds of them) did similar work - sat on benches and chatted the night away.
At the domestic terminal we sprawled on the pleather seats and waited some 4 or 5 hours for the flight to Hyderabad, dozing off inbetween the mosquito bites. I tried to get online - paid twice, but it would not take the username and password I was given. I guess I should be honored that it at least let me pay. We have barely set foot down in Hyderabad, and our work started. We were whisked away to the Institute through hordes of jolly people blasting Bollywood music in the dusty streets and getting ready for the Independence Day. After alloted ten minutes for shower (only cold water) we went to the local community centers for interfaith peace building. These were in areas of former Hindu-Muslim violence where people died in clashes and riots. Centers work mostly with young men and women, and we had to endure four cultural programs done in our honor. Songs, dances, poems in broken English.... first two were endearing, later I struggled to keep my eyes open as I did not sleep for days. We raised four Indian flags and sang the anthem four times. By the end I almost knew it by heart. Funny thing, the Indian anthem. It mentions all the northern states, then bulks the souther ones under 'Dravida', and completely skips the Northeast. The troublemakers. Why mention them, I suppose.
In the evening we started planning for our workshop. Our team of facilitators joined the team at the Henry Martyn Institute here. They are fantastic and funny people. It feels as if we worked together for years. Participants are from all over India - we have a married couple from Gujarat. Sadaf is Muslim and her husband, Bharat, is a Hindu. Brave kids they are. They work together as a conflict resolution team in the areas of the Godhra train incident and the Gujarat carnage where over 3,000 people, Muslim and Hindu, were burnt in 2002. They face lots of disapproval and rejection from both communities, even from their distant families, but are incredibly strong and devoted. We also have a number of people from the Northeast - Nagaland, Manipur, Assam and Tripura. Some of them are on the opposing sides of their conflict (inter-tribal as well as a self-determination struggle) and members of one's family may have been killed by the members of another's family. We were worried what that may lead to in the training, but so far so good. They seem to be learning a lot from each other, and seeing their conflict from the other's shoes never hurts. Then there are some people from the South - Andhra Pradesh (where Hyderabad is) and Tamil Nadu. The conflicts there are mostly about caste, and there is a growing Dallit (untouchables) movement for human rights, but things often end in violence and killing. Some heavy stuff we got on the table. Next two days we worked from 9am to midnight each day, leading the training and preparing for the next day. Tomorrow we should finally get out into the town.
Well, this heathen has to go to the Devotion- every morning interfaith prayer led by whoever volunteers. Hindu, Muslim, Jewish, Christian, Jainist chants and hymns are sang in a dome that is in the middle of unbelievable garden that makes me feel like I am in the Semiramis gardens of the old Babylon.
Internet here blows, but I will post some pictures eventually. Oops, Ratishvari is starting her Hindu song...gotta go.
Hey everybody! I'm in India!
<laughing>
I'm too tired (and drained) to write much more. What's with all this internet time?
Please keep the dispatches coming. I'm entertained.
Hold your dominion.
You are reminding me of stuff...nine months ago I was in India, for the first time, and I still think about it often. It was amazing, on many different levels. I often think of the people I saw- what are they doing now? I sometimes wish I could have another vegetarian "curry" served on a banana leaf.
oops, I hope I can finish this thread...
I really want to see what Indians are like. Strange thing is in China few are being talked about the country. But plain fact is India has the same position as China in the global stage. And the comparison between India and China will ultimately leads to the test that whether autocracy or democracy will benefit economical resurrection.
And the two also share the same position as in cultural and historical terms. I have no idea how modern Indians deal with life. Well, I don't have idea about rural China either but in urban areas it's simply material.
JB
Off to Kerala today. Hopefully the connection will be better and I'll have more time. Lotsa pictures to post - Char Minar, Golkonda Fort, Hindu temple up on a hill and the biggest mosque ever... And some very handsome participants and colleagues, because, what would be Dasha's travelogue without a few crushes.... Off I go, wheeeee!
Have fun, post when you can.
looking out from Char Minar, a monument from 16th century that was built to commemorate the end of a plague.
And this here is Char Minar itself.
Old town of Hyderabad below me, view from Char Minar.
Wow, that's big! And what a juxtaposition with downtown....
