Hardly Quiet Transition

I understand that its been a little while since I’ve written in this journal. You could look at that from a couple different angles: maybe I have just been completely stressed, putting it off, or maybe, optimistically, it’s because I have been busy having a good, event full past couple weeks. I will let you gather what you want. Regardless, my mind has been busy trying to determine when I would type these words, but more importantly what I thought was the most important theme or event from these two weeks. As it is 8:30 am on a Thursday, and I am waiting to travel to my last day of field placement, because of the pounding rain and sporadic thunder = monsoon-like weather, I have come to the conclusion that these past couple weeks have been too great to only choose a theme of importance. I don’t know where to even start: the wonderful, eye-opening experience with my roommate, Jess, living in a health clinic of a village for five days; the friends and family I have talked to from home; the recent Human Rights Conference; a couple days with the most magnificent neighbors; or a craft show.

When I hear the word, “village” I automatically think of a community with a very small number of homes, a group of people similar to a family, beyond the main roads and highways, away from the factories and universities. I would still consider the word village as such, besides the size I initially imagined. Just like cities there are villages of all different sizes; I don’t know why I had it in my mind that just because we were going to be staying at a health clinic in a “village” it would only be surrounded by a few hundred people. That is why I was surprised to hear the size of this place: nearly 12,000 people! Regardless of the size, the population surrounding the ten or fifteen year old health clinic was still a community, a community like a family. It was evident from the first evening Jess and I arrived there, with the people that picked us up from the train station, the way we could ask anyone on the street where one particular person lived, and the way in which most people seemed to feel comfortable coming to the health clinic on the six days of the week it was open with any health concerns they had. Feeling uncomfortable, worrying about stigma, and the culture impacted by traditions and religion are all reasons which seem to hold people back from receiving health care here in India.

I learned a great amount about the health care system in India within these past couple weeks. I thank that to the fact that Jess and I have an assignment which we must present next week about this topic, I thank the staff, volunteers, and cleaning ladies of the health clinic, and all the citizens that we got to know and interact with who only had positive things to say about this clinic that provides free to minimal cost health care. Additional to the interactive education I felt I received while there, I just loved the social visits we could have, the children that flocked to us, the only white people around after school, the hospitable food and drinks we were sometimes given in homes, the afternoons we would spend learning how to tie sarees with the cleaning ladies, the food that we were cooked by the friendliest “grandmother” of the clinic. Finally, I loved the last evening there, before our 1:00 am train ride, when several staff, neighbors and children took turns tying Jess and I up in sarees, decorating us in gold jewelry and adjusting our expressions and body-language for poses of pictures.

It was a sad train ride back home, but I think this paper will now be easy to write, only when we have more time of course.

It was not a quiet adjustment back in Chennai this past weekend, when we immediately started a three-day long Human Rights Conference: an event the Social Work Department hosts annually with representatives and participants coming from around the world, NGO’s coming from around the city, with information and selling hand-made crafts, all to raise awareness of human rights issues, and the Millennium Development Goals (which if you aren’t much aware of, should just do a quick google search!). This was only after I was able to make several phone calls back home: with my mom’s birthday; my dad’s sincere curiosity to hear about my excursion and about my aunt and uncle visiting the beautiful autumn in the Upper Peninsula;  Ethan’s and mine concurrence about certain topics; and talks with my amazing friends Sarah (as I listen to “Dirt Road Anthem” by the way) and Nancy.

The conference was quite informational and made things a reality to me, coming from a developed country to a country in which these eight goals are only that: goals, not realities. Ideas like working to reduce in half the number in poverty and starving by 2015, along with significantly decreasing the number of infant mortalities, focusing on better maternal health, and giving universal education to all boys and girls. HIV/AIDS is a large concern here, as well as gender equality. These were all topics discussed by professionals, teachers, reporters, and students during the past three days, with yummy meals and tea for breaks. Wedged in between these nights was the wonderful social life Jess and I had with our temporary dorm-room neighbors. It started with a very pleasant surprise Sunday evening with my two fellow, wonderful field placement interns when they knocked on our door hoping to sleep in the room next door. Thank goodness it was not a problem, and we were all able to share the next few days with each other. After a long day of conference it was nice to come back with the girls, conversing about the day, share meals, popcorn, and mac and cheese, having a girls’ night with bright blue, thick white (like The Joker…), and clear pealing face masks, a movie, and Oreos.

The past two weeks finished with a train ride and rickshaw ride (we may have thought we were going to die within the traffic) into the city center to an open-aired arena area, where there was an arts and craft show. I don’t think I would be exaggerating when I say that it was one of the most amazing places I have been to in this city. It was an afternoon of buying handmade Indian gifts among the probably fifty or so booths, having conversations with friendly sellers who in many instances were working with NGO’s selling handmade scarves, shoes, jewelry, and figurines made by victims or many times women in distress. Then, what better thing to do after a couple appetite building hours but to get dinner at the nearby American restaurant where we did our show and tell of souvenirs and drank homemade lemonade and Arnold Palmers.

Like the four of us have constantly said the last couple days, “why didn’t we think of getting together like this earlier?” Hailey and Rachel, I am sad that it is my last day of field placement. I wish we had more time there together with more girls’ nights and special chocolate drinks with discussion of the field days. Someday we will visit you in Australia!

This week is ending, but will only begin the next week in a few days with our next excursion. Life seems really good here in India. I am so thankful to be having these experiences and to be able to travel north and south observing the different cultures.

Contrasts and Connections

A country of tropical palm trees, elephants, skyscraping Hindu temples, colorful fabric, and spices galore – to a country of mushroom picking, European old towns, infamous wodka, pubs, and cobblestone streets – a nation with exploration links to America, olives, Angolan and Cape Verdean descendants, superior wine, and melodious, nostalgic, evening music. It has taken me some time to soak in all the connections and similarities one can notice from around the world. Through just being in one location and having the necessary amount of concentration, one can imagine he were in a different world, in a country he already explored, or a country he can only dream of: maybe a city across the ocean, or a desert of another continent. In recent times, I have been jotting down notes while in an auto, train, or car, which remind me of the past, of other places in the world. I never thought that I would be able to vividly visit my home, half way across the earth while in India. I cannot count on two hands the amount of times something in this Southeast Asian nation has reminded me of my exchange year in Poland, or of the short study time spent in Portugal.

It is strange how one event or one person can come around in your life and trigger a memory, create an image, or an attachment, even if it may initially seem quite strange. I think about the international bestseller book, Shantaram. (Those pages are turning quickly!) The main character goes through his time in India, Bombay specifically, after escaping prison in Australia, having a New Zealand fake passport, becoming friends with a German woman and a Spanish woman, hearing stories about saunas in Norway, eating delicious Indian food, and then to only live in an Indian slum and be reminded of his friends and family back in Australia. I would never have expected to be reminded of so many previous places here in India. It is funny how even though I am living in this tropical place, little things can still remind me of the most meaningful places in the world for me.

As a group of Americans, with our supervisor we had a planned, educational excursion to Hyderabad, a city northwest of Chennai, a cooler and dryer city! It was an excellent four days sandwiched between two overnight train rides. While here, there was some time to think, like in my last entry, the train ride in particular. The city has so much history, but unlike in Tamil Nadu, the land of many temples, the history here started with a famous fort reminding me of a place right outside of Lisbon. There was much Muslim influence, drinking of popular Irani tea and eating delicious Pakistani chicken curry, a symbol of the diversity and cultural influences immigrants and history can have in India -- similar to the Angolans and Cape Verdeans comprising much of the population of Lisbon, or the “Indian-Italian” restaurants interestingly spaced throughout the city. It is strange sometimes how two different places can be linked in memory and be extremely similar, even when in half a sentence back it was noted they were quite different.

Contrasts and connections.

I have been going to my field placement every Tuesday and Thursday outside of the city. It is a wonderful place, and I have constantly been considering how I will write one entry about this, but I have not yet come up with the right idea. Nonetheless, at this small, local organization, I have come to meet an extreme amount of hospitality, something Indians are known for. As soon as I reach my destination someone is there to pull out a chair, turn the overhead fan on, and serve me for the Tamil Nadu tea time, 10 to 11 am. The organization is run by a middle-aged couple, two extremely nice people. Throughout my time there, I have gotten to know them very well. While appreciating them very much, I cannot help but be reminded of my two wonderful host families in Poland. Maybe it is the college study-abroad experience that cannot help but relate to a year as a high school exchange student; maybe it is the relation of hospitality, or the importance and centralization of food of which is not seen in America. Every time I get off the yellow, three-wheeled share-auto, walk past the small village, and women cooking, to the brightly colored center building, rolling green hills, and palm trees in the background, and see my two Indian supervisors, I cannot help but think of my families back in Poland -- the people who hosted me for seven and then four months, who treated me so well, taught me so much about the language, shared their family with me, and fed me huge amounts of delicious food (it was inevitable to gain a few pounds). Although here in India, there are many differences: I do not live with three cats and a dog that loves to fart; I don’t get to go mushroom picking or visit the rural, countryside house; I don’t have a host mom to laugh with while drinking some wine, eating homemade bread, or “trying” to bake a cake; I have not been able to prepare Thanksgiving dinner, or help with a birthday dinner; there has been no reason to walk half a mile to the nearby Rotary club for the weekly meetings; and there is no one to take me skiing for winter break or to discuss the amazing places to travel to. India has its own experiences and great benefits which I will surely remember. Yet, it is impossible to go one place in this country without being reminded of something else.

Sometimes those inevitable connections in life, subconsciously making those comparisons of distant memories with people half way across the world, can be difficult. However, it is a claim to the amount of experience and knowledge you can have by traveling and opening up your thoughts and views. I sometimes have that bitter-sweet feeling of being reminded of my quiet, green, secluded home in the Upper Peninsula when I walk through the campus here. While in Hyderabad, the finally visible stars in the sky reminded me of lying out on our trampoline at night, or having bonfires below the sky. The pictures one Indian woman showed me of her life cleared a path for my mind to wonder: to family back home. The students on campus getting together for lunch, skipping class, gossiping, or going out for an afternoon on the town are reminders of random outings and random car rides with friends in my home and college. India is a place so different than anything I have personally experienced. It is a wonderful place, full of culture, learning opportunities, and diversity; with that, there are many aspects of its culture which can be compared to places half way across the globe.

Perfect Place for Reflection

Sitting on the long-distance train right now, is a perfect time to reflect on the world and what I am witnessing. For months previous to my departure to India, I could not even imagine what things would be like. I kept telling people that I had no idea what to expect. It is one thing to read as many books as possible, to hear what people have to say who traveled there personally, to read articles from the internet, and to learn about the culture, etiquette, and language. It is something completely different to be in the nation, to be part of the culture and traditions, the smell and colors, and to be just one person of the many people.

I remember being nervous that I would not be able to handle the heat because all I ever heard about India was the extent of the high temperatures. Nonetheless, it is fun to look back on those feelings now, and to know that I am here. Sometimes it is necessary to remind myself of that when I am stressed or overwhelmed. For a student moving from a small town, a twenty-minute drive on a tree covered road and seemingly traffic-less downtown to a city of nearly ten million people, the most densely populated city of India, I admit, it is easy to become overwhelmed and feel helpless at times.

However, at the moment, as the train speeds on the tracks, views of huts, car lights, and numerous people in and around rickshaws, hotels, and streets merge together, as the breeze of the cool evening air takes hold of my face. It may be too loud to converse at some points, but the noise of the vendors walking in and out, through the aisles is too evident to be missed. As of now, I have already seen water bottles, “cold drinks,” flashing, colorful postcards, samosas, coffee and tea, veg puffs, and baskets of numerous chips and biscuits. I will never go hungry on this train ride. The women in our compartment are as friendly as anyone, explaining with hand motions and few words of English the beds in which us three girls are to take. They talk in Tamil and smile at us as we have our own conversations.
Another man with “cold drinks” just walked by.

Along with the food and the veg puff I ate in the train station, there are those few things that I am still not able to get used to. It is only the mid-evening, a half-hour into our trip, and there has already been one polio-victim with a crutch making his way down the aisle several times. It is heart wrenching to think what his life is like, what his day to day routines are. I consider the fact that I am on my laptop right now, updating my blog; I feel a little sick. I think about how stressed and overwhelmed, how much I dwell on things, and realize that I am such a lucky person. I don’t want to write like I’m trying to be inspirational or extremely deep;  yet, I am processing the fact that I am in such a wonderful place to reflect on the extremes of my experience. Along with the stress and worry come these amazing adventures. I am on a train as I type up this blog, or maybe it’s more like a journal entry, traveling to another city, and will be for the next fourteen hours. Yet, I have been looking forward to this moment, to the breeze in my face, and the time to only reflect and observe. I will be eating more great food and learning about a completely different place, in a different state, with a different language, and different traditions in a short period of time.

A couple days ago in class, with the many absent students including the scheduled project presenter, my professor had to do a “crisis intervention” as he called it. He had to improvise a lecture, to come up with one on the spot. What did he talk about? He talked about Mahatma Gandhi. While learning quite a bit about him, his leadership, as the “father of the nation,” preaching non-violence, vegetarianism, Bramacharya or self-discipline, and faith, my favorite part of the presentation was a quote by Gandhi which we ended on.

“There is nothing that wastes the body like worry, and one who has faith in God should be ashamed to worry about anything whatsoever.”

I liked this because I think it shows the somewhat silly concerns and apprehensions we may have. I am religious and do believe this; however, I believe what Gandhi was trying to get across was more than that. It could be having faith in God, many gods, no gods, faith in luck, faith in your hard work, or faith in the weather and Mother Nature. Whatever it is, there is a point in which you must stop worrying and dwelling on the past/future and let luck, God, or your hard work take control and allow your feelings to relax. I have always known that I dwell on things too much: constantly thinking about the next day, or the next stressful event. India has been a wonderful place to work on this; along with this train ride, Gandhi has put this in perspective for me.

I will end now before I eat my dinner, which is just coming by in crates, paratha with veg curry!! I can smell the curry and spices in the air. So much flavor in this delicious food! Yum!!

An Real Live Experiment to Being a Foodie

The streets were full of clothes vendors, dogs, chai stands, an elephant, and women wrapped in saris as usual. However, the unfamiliar to us seven white Americans in India, was the prevalence of westernized cafes, tourists in shorts and sleeveless, the aroma of homemade Italian spaghetti, as well as the constant, accented, flowing French words on street signs, books, and clothing. Walking through the streets of the city no matter what time of day was extremely quiet. French Town was streaming with Indians, French, and tourists on bicycles. A very large statue of Gandhi taking an infamous step forward was staged above the waters of the Bay of Bengal crashing into the rocks on shore.

We had our second trip to Pondicherry a couple hours’ drive south. It is quite famous for its French influence. Within this state of India, Tamil Nadu, there were three main colonists up until the 1940s and 1950s: Chennai with much Portuguese, a majority of the state of English, Dutch in several places, and finally the French in Pondicherry. It is a small beach city attracting tourists and families with links back in France. From the first tour we took with our wonderful supervisor, Pondicherry felt much more relaxed and casual. It was a few days in which we were able to stress less about our clothing. We were not the only white people around and therefore less of a godlike presence.

Additional to the relaxation and casual feeling of Pondicherry was the familiar western/European culture of cafes’ and restaurants along with the delicious variations of ethnic cuisines. From day one we started with the popular (returned to many times) French café (open twenty-four hours!) and iced coffee drink, walked around the French city, and finished with a delicious, little Italian restaurant situated on the sixth floor of a hotel, overlooking the entire city, with a breeze flowing through the open aired rooftop and the spotting of lights surrounding. Don Giovanni’s was not a one-time visit deal; it was inevitable that we would return to the aroma of homemade Italian pasta, freshly baked focaccia bread of garlic a

nd olive oil, and the beautiful art of tiramisu for a second time only to try something different. Italian food with an extremely friendly Italian owner was only a taste for what was yet to come of the four-and-a-half days we were in Pondy (its nickname).

Day two was all about food. It was maybe my first experience of really being a “foodie” and I truly believe that it could be my lifestyle. What a better way to spend your life, travel the world and eat food; only several times did Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmerman come up while we sought out hole-in-the wall cafes, local restaurants, and ethnic cuisine. Other than walking along the beach, going to a bookstore of novels in English, Hindi, and French, walking slowly through the nearby Catholic cathedral, and getting dressed up for an evening out, food (and some beverages) made up the majority of the day. After an early morning walk along the ocean, a café Americano, my breakfast was a cheese croissant and an espresso from the bakery near to our guest house. Second breakfast was a homemade apple juice on another rooftop café. Lunch was scrambled eggs with a tomato, mozzarella salad. We had to take a break from the heat with a chocolate ice cream and then later an Australian imported beer. Without these things our bodies would have fallen apart from the heat and stress of the trip…. We only had to take another break before heading back to the room to clean up and dress up for dinner. Our destination was the popular twenty-four hour coffee house for my favorite of the day, a chocolate croissant. Dinner was pizza from a fired-oven stove. My mouth may have opened slightly when I saw my simple yet mouthwatering margarita pizza with big, bright green basil leaves placed on top.

Coffee, cappuccinos, Americanos, mochas, croissants, Italian pasta, and scrambled eggs, whether it be plain, in a French baguette, or in a homemade croissant, spinach tart, guava juice, eggplant masala, paratha…

I had such a wonderful time in Pondicherry. It was difficult, just like any vacation, to return to reality and day-to-day procedures. However, after only being back to the urban, metropolitan life for one night now, I am still consumed by the town. I still think about the delicious Italian and French food we ate, but also about our last meal at our supervisor’s house in the countryside, with homemade Indian food. It was the first time I have finally been able to witness and participate in the making of this beautiful and delicious cuisine. We learned to make stuffed parathas, pooris, several curries, and ate popcorn and a variety of spiced, roasted chicken. Even though the family of four informed us of the most venomous snake in India being spotted the previous evening, we were able to forget about it and relax and socialize in the coastal breeze and stuff ourselves with more amazing food. After being away from the chaotic and somewhat stressful city, , walking along the beach, witnessing a community full of zen and meditation, and being immersed in the culture of food, I would never be opposed to becoming a foodie.