Category: Travel
Claire: Camels and Mustaches and Turbans, Oh My!
We saw a colorful parade circling Pushkar Lake. The streets were flooded with people. There were a few floats, a marching band, and an endless amount of people following behind. We threw flowers from our rooftop restaurant onto the pilgrims marching below. It was a beautiful scene. We also saw a turban wrapping competition, and a mustache competition in the desert. Both were hilarious! The mustaches were insane. The winner had his twisted into tight dreads, and spiraled into buns on his cheeks. He looked like Princess Lea. If she were an Indian man with a ridiculously long mustache/beard I wouldn’t have known who was who. The crowd was packed, but we were able to snake our way to the front. There were a handful of cameramen, reporters, and photographers from all over the world at the events. It was amazing. I’m glad I had the opportunity to witness such a spectacle.
Claire: Dharavi Slum Tour
Dani, Natalie, and I took a trip to Mumbai this past week. We went on a tour of Asia’s largest slum, also recognized as the slum from Slumdog Millionaire, called Dharavi. It’s home to an estimated one million people in an area less than one square mile, and surrounded by high-rises.
The official indicators of a slum are high percentage of residents living in illegal housing, lack of water and sanitation, overcrowding, and non-durable housing structures. In Dharavi there is only one toilet for every 1,500 people. The living conditions were no doubt awful, but there was an incredible sense of community and spirit. It was like any village in India, except packed in tightly, and stuck in the middle of the bustling city, Mumbai. I was shocked to see schools, grocery stores, community areas, streets, cars, and factories for their many industries tucked away in little rooms amidst the squalor. Industry and entrepreneurship was everywhere. One thing I was amazed to learn was Dharavi’s industries have an annual turnover of approximately $665 million! Some of the thriving industries included: weaving, recycling, food, clothing, manufacturing, and pottery.
The largest industry in Dharavi is recycling. Majority of the waste from Mumbai is recycled there. This industry employs nearly 10,000 people. They recycle virtually anything. Nothing is garbage. This was refreshing to hear and see, because the lack of recycling bins in the town worried me.
To me, the slum refuted the myth that poverty is due to laziness– that the people living in squalor deserve it because they are stupid, indolent or lack the skills to be successful. The Dharavi slum is a booming negation to that idea. At Dhobi Ghat—the world’s largest outdoor laundry mat, just outside the slum, men and women wake up at 4am to start washing in order to finish the heaping piles of sheets and clothing in a timely manner. Inside Dharavi I saw women making papadam (thin and crispy bread with bits of pepper) by baking them in the sun on wooden baskets flipped upside-down. I saw men working at sewing machines in an assembly line. One does the cutting, another the sleeve sewing, another the collar, and down the line until the product is complete. In another part of the slum a husband and wife combo was making clay pots. The wife mixed the clay while the husband worked at the pottery wheel. They make 80 pots per day. Kilns line the street by their hut and smoke fills the air creating a polluted and even hotter environment than the existing 92- degree day.
These people are working from sun up to sun down, every day. I can’t think of anyone who works as hard as they do. It makes me wonder what quality of life these people would have if they were born into the right circumstances. Instead by pure chance they were born into a place with far less access to education and fewer opportunities to prosper economically, no matter how hard they work or how smart they are.
The company my tour was through is called Reality Tours. We went with them because 80% of the tour cost goes directly into their sister NGO, Reality gives, which supports projects to improve quality of life in the underprivileged communities of Dharavi.
We weren’t allowed to take pictures during the tour as it would be an invasion on the residents privacy. Here are pictures from Reality Tours website to give an idea of what I saw.
Dhobi Ghat
Recycling area
Poor working conditions
Narrow, dark, claustrophobic alleys within the residential area of the slum.
How the residents live
Claire: Trains
The most reliable and affordable mode of transportation for long distances in India is by train. Sure you could fly, but it would cost at least 10 times the price and Kingfisher airlines has been cancelling many flights recently. By bus you might pay a bit less than the train ticket (but not always) and you’ll spend at least twice as much time in transit with an unspecific time of departure and time of arrival.
Buying the train tickets is an experience in itself. Let me tell ya… My first visit to the train station booking office was interesting. There are a few websites that tell you the different train schedules. I arrived partially prepared with the train number and times of arrival and departure I wanted. As I walked through the door chaos surrounded me. There were around 8 teller windows, but only three were open. The lines were about 15 people deep. But wait, did I say lines? My bad. Definitely not lines. More like blobs of rustling people. ‘Q’-ing as my British roommate Natalie would say, isn’t their style. I noticed everyone had a white form with their train details. I found one and started filling it out. When it was finally my turn I elbowed off the crowding Indian men trying to budge and I passed my form through the window slot. The lady started speaking at me in a Hindi-English hybrid. Oh no. After much confusion she somehow communicated that we needed a passport photocopy. Huh? We didn’t need one when Jessica booked tickets last weekend. Freaking out, with only 10 mins until we needed to leave for work that morning, Dani, Natalie, and I scrambled around, asking for a copy machine. There were none in the station so we ventured out and a little man led us across the street. It was a tiny hole-in-the-wall shop… with a photocopy machine! 1 rupee (2 cents) for a copy. We wandered back over and pushed our way in front of the window. Luckily the lady saw us and issued our tickets without waiting in line all over again. We got to work late that day, but at least we had our tickets. Every train ticket says “Happy Journey”—it’s the most adorable thing in the world. I now truly appreciate the efficiency and straight-forwardness of the western world.
I’ve taken trains just about every weekend. I’ve learned there are two train stations near our house we can buy tickets from. One is farther away and has a foreigner’s line. We went there the first few times, but now I would rather go to the closer station. It cost less to get there in a tuk-tuk and I don’t mind having a teller who’s English isn’t great.
There is usually the option to chose between different seating classes on the train. I’ve done sitting class, sleeping class, 2A, and 3A. Sitting class is simply rows of metal, un-cleaned benches that fit three people each. We take this for shorter train rides (1-5 hours) but we did do it for 7 hours once. Sleeper class has stacks of beds that fold down. Six per section, three stacked high. Sleeper is the cheapest way to travel. They are crammed full of people, the beds and floors are dirty. It’s usually loud and hot. We took sleeper class for most of our trips because it’s so inexpensive, and you can sleep. We took these for 5-12 hour train rides. I’ve taken 3A twice for 17 hour train rides, and 2A for an 18 hour one. Both of these are pricier, have air conditioning, padded, clean beds with bedding provided, and sometimes meals. 2A means the beds are stacked only two high, so you have headroom to sit up. 3A is three-stacked high.
The bathrooms on the train are gross. They’re on the ends of each cart and are the squatter toilets where the hole goes directly onto the tracks below. The clanking metal makes hovering over them scary, like a metal shard is going to shoot up from the tracks and take me out. No toilet paper. No hand soap or towels at the sink. But that’s typical of public restrooms anywhere here. I always keep a wad of tp and hand sanitizer in my purse. It’s tricky enough to use the squatter toilet on stationary ground, so adding in a moving train with pee infested floors turns bathroom use into a nightmare. For this reason I do my best to avoid the train bathrooms.
I’ve had two memorable train experiences. The first was my trip back from Amritsar with Dani. Our train ride to Amritsar was in lovely 2A—fancy comfortable class. It was about 18 hours, but we slept very well and it felt like nothing. Unfortunately, we booked sleeper class for the way back. After a taste of luxurious travel on our first journey, we hatched a plan to sneak into the fancy class for the way back. It started out well–we found empty seats and befriended a lovely couple who taught us how to play the card game rumy. We were hoping the ticket guy would leave us alone since we were busy in a card game. He didn’t. We were busted and he made us go to our seats in sleeper class for the remaining 14 hours. Our train cart was 6 away, so we knew we’d have to walk through each one to get to our assigned spots.
We waited for the next train-stop so we could walk between carts with ease. This is when the craziness began. As we began to enter the next cart a massive crowd surrounded the entry door waiting to pounce. The only way I can think to describe the next 10 minutes was a scene from a zombie apocalypse. The crowd flew into the cart, so Dani and I started to sprint, but then we saw them coming in from the other end of the cart. TRAPPED. Dani and I were pounded into the side of the isle as pushy moms and their children, and dad’s with luggage came through screaming, pushing, charging, throwing, crying…it was shocking to say the least. I felt like I was in the thrashing crowd of a 3OH!3 concert. I couldn’t figure out why the ravenousness was necessary since everyone had an assigned seat. I learned later that they give out general admission tickets without designated seating. If you get a seat, then you get a seat. If not then you can be on the train but you have to stand. After Dani took a punch from a grizzly mom in a baby blue sari, and after a nice boy helped us escape the madness, we carried on through the carts to our seats. A train officer saw us and led us through the isles since they were now overflowing with people. His massive (and unnecessary) gun was twisting and turning and bouncing around. At one point it was twisted around a pole pointing straight at me. Terrible muzzle control. Not ok. Six carts later and we found our assigned, paid for seats-covered with people. We told them they were ours and they scooted over a bit. We spent the first few hours sitting there-packed like sardines. When bedtime came around we unfolded the benches into beds so we could sleep. There were people filling the isle, and one man was lying over the end of my bed. I accepted it at first, but then he tried using my blanket and sleeping on my feet. Not happening. I nudged him until he got the hint. That ride I slept with one eye open.
The second crazy train experience was my return trip from Mumbai. Dani and I were weight-listed for a spot on the train. We were assured that on the day of the journey we could check the seating list and we’d be cleared for an assigned seat. If only it were that easy. We spent the first 6 hours of the 18 hr train ride as nomads. We would find open spaces or benches and reside there until their owner boarded the train. At one point we were stuck standing next to the smelly, nasty communal bathrooms, holding our bags and hanging out with the train crew. The thought of spending the entire 18 hrs this way was horrible. We considered sleeping in the cabinet where the extra blankets and pillows for the upper classes are stored. The crew was okay with it, so Dani crawled in to check it out. It was the size of a doublewide coffin. The cons: it was dark, tight, closed off, and if we were to stay in there we’d be trapped in until the end of the train ride. The pros: we would be able to lay down and set down our bags. We were tempted, but opted out at the thought of claustrophobia-induced-panic. Soon after, we discovered the train’s black market for seat assignments. A train crew guy who we befriended found a guy who knew a guy who could get us a seat. All we needed was a bribe…500 rupees ($10) between us two bought a bed in sleeper class for the remaining 12 hours. Well worth it. We had to share, but we were able to breathe decent air and after curling up like dogs we slept a bit.
Times like these on the train really test me as a person. I came to India looking for adventure and a challenge, and train rides are one of many experiences here that have fulfilled that. I’ve learned staying positive during challenging situations is not only valuable- it is crucial. I feel I will return home with more patience, stronger resilience, and probably lower standards for comfort and cleanliness. Thank you, India!
Claire: Wagah Border Ceremony
Lets begin with a little history lesson…
One thing set forth by the Indian Independence Act of 1947 was the partition of India and Pakistan. These newly constituted states displaced up to 12.5 million people with deaths estimated as varying from several hundred thousand to a million. The violent nature of the partition created an atmosphere of hostility and suspicion between India and Pakistan that afflicts their relationship today.
Wagah is the only road border crossing between Pakistan and India, lying just outside Amritsar. Today, the eastern half of the Wagah village remains in the Republic of India while the western half is in Pakistan. Each day before sunset an elaborate Wagah border ceremony takes place.
Before I left for India my mom begged me to not do one thing-go anywhere near Pakistan… Welp, sorry mama, but I couldn’t miss out on seeing this. I’ll pay for the salon bill to fix the gray hairs when I’m home.
Dani and I made the trip to the Wagah border during our stay in Amritsar and it was amazing! To be safe, if anyone asked we said we were from Canada, we dressed modestly, and we refrained from grabbing the giant Indian flag during the ceremony and flailing it around (it was very tempting).
It was about an hour-long drive in the trunk of a tuk-tuk jeep to get there. When we jumped out of the car we followed the crowd through a few security checkpoints. I had read on TripAdvisor that there is a separate gate entry for foreigners. I found it off the left. Gate 3, VIP entrance. Seemed a bit fancy. Outside the gate was a crowd of people trying to get through. Dani and I have learned not to throw ourselves into masses of crowding people here, so we hovered on the outskirt. One of the military men noticed us, and waved us over. He checked our passports and sent us on through. We went through another security check-point and funneled into the stadium of people. To our right, massive bleachers filled with enthusiastic Indian citizens.To our left was the gate that separates India from Pakistan, and beyond it a crowd of gender segregated Pakistanis.
There was dancing, singing, cheering-pure enthusiasm coming from our side. The security guards settled people into their seats and we got put right in front. The crowd continued to cheer and sing, and my favorite moment was when the song Jai-ho came on. The crowd went wild and Dani and I could sing a long too. It was magical. There was a cheerleader man wearing all white that would get the crowd going. HA.
The Wagah border ceremony started with India’s Border Security Force, and Pakistan’s Rangers marching down the walkway toward to gate. It was nice to see to women guards represented on the Indian side. They would all do a little jig consisting of high kicks (no joke), stomping, pivoting, and arm flailing. It reminded me of my dance team days. After their jig both sides would march to the gate, fling it open and either do a stare down and shut it again, or another jig before they slammed it shut. I was blown away when two opposing soldiers cordially shook hands over the border. It was amazing to see.
Once each soldier had their moment with the gate, it remained open while they lowered the flags. Cheering erupted throughout the whole ceremony. The choreographed parts were very entertaining, but the thing that I found most amazing was the handshake. In that moment you would have never guessed these two countries have a hostile relationship. This ceremony has been going on since 1959.
Claire: The Golden Temple
Dani and I took an 18-hour train ride to Amritsar, Punjab this past weekend. The draw? To see the Golden Temple- Sikhisms holiest site, and a symbol of human brotherhood and equality. It is a place where everyone, regardless of race, religion, or class, is welcome to seek spiritual solace and enjoy the temples beauty.
The temple and its surrounding buildings (community kitchen, community dormitories) are up-kept by donations, many volunteers, and a small group of permanent stewards. We felt the positive serene vibes as soon as we entered the premise. A clean premise! Out of respect, men and women must wear head coverings, and shoes must be off. There was even a mini pool of water you had to step through to ensure your feet were clean. I don’t normally become excited over temples, but the Golden Temple is GORGEOUS. It is not a large temple, but it is stunning. It was built in 1577, and the temples dome is gilded with 750 kg of pure gold. A shinning trophy during the day and a glowing star at night. My favorite spot to look at it was from the side of the pool. Dani and I would sit on the cool marble floor for hours, people watching and absorbing the peace and beauty while holy music played softly in the background.
The history was interesting as well. Guru Nanak founded Sikhism in the 15th century. He was frustrated with the caste system and rituals of other religions; Sikhism was formed to be all-inclusive. In Sikhism, women have complete equality and can even be the head of the religion. Unlike the Pope of Catholosism or Dalai Lama of Buddhism, a woman can lead the Sikhs if she is elected, like a democracy. The all-inclusiveness of the religion was clearly shown in the spirit at the Golden Temple.
We were able to see people reading from the holy books inside the temple, and we watched the evening ceremony where the holy book was put to bed.
We were pestered often for a picture, since we were usually the sole foreigners. We said yes to little kids, women, or couples, but always said no to boys in packs. You just can’t trust boys in packs these days.
Langar hall is the name of the community kitchen/free eatery building. It was awesome in the true sense of the word, and easily a highlight of my trip thus far. This kitchen is open 24/7 and feeds over 50,000 people a day, and during religious holidays over 100,000 people a day. It is the most efficient system i’ve seen in India. I was blown away. If this weren’t amazing enough, I learned that it has been going strong for 450 years, without missing a day.
You collect a plate, bowl, and spoon from volunteers handing out dishes, and follow the crowd to a massive sized room. There is row after row of twine runner rugs that everyone files down, taking a seat on an open rug space. You sit cross-legged with your plate out front. Volunteers walk down the rows with their buckets of simple but yummy vegetarian food and plop it on your plate. Other volunteers have baskets of chapatti and you hold out both hands to catch them. If you want more, they happily serve you more. Once you are finished, you scoop up your stainless steel tray and take it to the wash station as the next wave of pilgrims file in.
My favorite food was the coconut ride pudding. Delish. They also serve dal, aloo gobi, and chapatti. The food was safe and cooked well. You can tell they’ve perfected the system in the 450 years.
The experience of peacefully sharing a meal with hundreds of people from different religions, races, cultures, and backgrounds in the spirit of equality was incredible. I’ve never been so proud of the human race before. The world could use more places like this.
We were able to see the food being mass-produced. There is a chapatti-making machine that I got the chance to operate, groups of volunteers chopping up onions, garlic, and chilies, and massive sized cauldrons for cooking the lentils.
Anyone can stay at the temple as well. Non-Sikh westerners are accommodated in a very basic dorm with guards out front. We stayed two nights and gave a donation for our stay. Dani and I met a bunch of very interesting travelers in the international dorm. We met a few Israli’s, a few French, a Polish couple, a man from Argentina, and a few Chinese folks. Danny was our favorite. He’s originally from China, a student in England, and cracked jokes all day long.
I feel so fortunate to have experienced a place like this. I will never forget it.
Claire: Challenges and Keoladeo National Park
Not everything about India is lovely and magical like some of my prior posts may portray. While there is an endless amount of beautiful things to see and experience here, there are equally as many devastating or uncomfortable things that take longer to adjust to. I am still struggling to accept the dirtyness of the streets, the poverty, the staring, and the bugs.
Garbage lines the street sides. Dirt is constantly flying in your eyes and sticking to your sweaty body. Naked children are climbing around in the trash piles with no parents in sight. Sometimes there are holes in the sidewalks and the open sewers are exposed down below. At many of the monuments the locals will throw their trash on the ground or stick it in a structures crevice. The tree knots will be filled with trash as well. I want to pick it all up, and sometimes I try.
As you probably can imagine, with dirty garbage comes nasty bugs. Bugs are everywhere. Literally. They’re crawling on your pillow, in the sugar jar, crawling up your legs…Everywhere. Flies will land on you throughout meals, giant ants crawl across my keyboard when I’m typing, and itchy mosquito bites don’t phase me anymore. The mosquitos in India aren’t your typical American mosquitos. They are professionals. You don’t hear them buzzing around you, they sneak in like a ninja and attack. I didn’t even see my first mosquito here until a week or two in.
The staring. I’ve decided it must be culturally acceptable in India to stare. Since I’m an obvious foreigner, the staring is extreme. We get ice cream at the same hotel restaurant by our house at least once a week. Every single time the entire kitchen staff will be peering over the wall, pointing, smiling and staring at us for our entire meal. Sometimes they’ll take pictures with their phones. It’s creepy and has been challenging to get use to. On trains or buses the multiple hour-long stares become so uncomfortable that I put my scarf or blanket over my head and shoulders for most of the ride. A fun way to get the point across, that you don’t want to be stared at, is to stare right back at the person and hold the gaze really hard, and then do a sharp eye-brow raise. Or make a ridiculous face. Or pick your nose. The latter has backfired though-the guy just held his stare and picked his too. I’ve found if I don’t respectfully laugh things off, then India becomes a struggle.
I am here to observe, and learn, but I realize I may never understand. I’ve found that the girls staying here who expect to “understand” India or affect injustice are going crazy. A lesson I’ve learned is that my feelings of amazement, disgust, or shock are my feelings alone, and I can’t project them onto others here. When the little hungry children are begging for money I want to give them all I have, but I know this will only encourage their parents to keep them out of school and send them out into the middle of the busy streets to do it again. I give them my granola bars when I have them though. I feel so bad and uncomfortable riding the cycle rickshaw with the tired old man biking, but by denying him he’d lose out on income for the day. I am constantly forced to ask myself what the moral thing to do is, and I find myself so unsure at times.
This brings me to why going to Keoladeo National Park this weekend was highly needed. There is only so much horn honking, garbage piling, sewer smelling, creepy staring, and children begging a person can handle before they question why they chose to live in India for 3 months.
Peace. Trees. Quiet. Green. Clean. Animals. Comfort. Home. Keoladeo allowed me to refresh mentally and physically, and introduced me to another beauty of India. Keoladeo National park is located in a little Rajasthan city called Bharatpur. The national park is also a world famous bird sanctuary. We rode bicycles throughout the park. The forest reminded me of forests in Minnesota at first with the deciduous trees, grasses, and swamps. For a while I felt like I was at home biking through the Elm Creek Park Reserve. Then palm trees were randomly added to the mix of vegetation along with vine-like trees. Definitely not MN anymore. I didn’t care about the bird sanctuary aspect initially because i’ve never been big on bird watching. I was wrong. The birds we saw were incredible! We came across a mini lake FILLED with huge birds, just hanging out in trees in the lake center. We just sat there for a good hour and watched them. When they flew they looked like pterodactyls! It was cool, unexpected, and changed my mind on bird watching.
I read all about India being a country of contrast before I came here, and I thought I understood. After living here for 5 weeks now, I don’t think it was possible for me to fully understand the truth in that statement until now. Until having experienced it first hand, in many many forms. 
Claire: Pushkar and Shopping
Usually when I return from a weekend trip my camera is loaded with new pictures, but not so much after this weekend. It was a great weekend in lovely hippie town Pushkar, but what was different was we didn’t go see the main sites like usual. We soaked in India’s culture another way: shopping!
Pushkar was AWESOME for shopping. They had a main road bazaar with shops lining both sides of the street- clothes, handicrafts, food, jewelry, bags, art, and home decor, everywhere! I found myself always lost and turned around in Pushkar, but realized it was because I walked around with my eyes glued to the clothes hanging at every stand instead of where I was going. I probably stepped in cow poop a few times. Or caused a motorbike pile-up. Wouldn’t know for sure, I was that entranced.
One shop we walked into was in the middle of an alley. A few turns off the main bazaar street, dimly lit, and no one around besides the three men in the shop. Casual. The shop was itty bitty but FILLED with t-shirts and tapestries. Stack after stack reaching the ceiling. I think there were enough shirts in there to clothe all of Rajasthan. We found a few we liked and wanted to pay 150 R each, max. The guy wanted 400R! Crazy talk. If you want to get a good deal you have to be patient, committed, confident, and not afraid to walk away. After a heated debate that lasted a good half hour we all walked out with shirts for 100R. Woo! Haggling is probably my favorite thing.
Most of our shopping experiences are like this- even when we need to buy a bottle of water. They see us, obvious westerners, and think “oh, a silly tourist who will pay too much” and throw out a high price right off the bat. I don’t blame them-I’m sure there are many tourists who pay it and don’t realize you need to barter. 15 rupees is a good price for a liter of bottled mineral water. They usually cave to that price pretty quickly when they realize you know how it works.
A large upside to living here is I have time to scope out prices and learn what I should pay for things. I spent a lot of this first month gathering information and comparing prices of items I am interested in.
My friends here and I have been shopping together for a while now and have become successful team bargainers. We’ve tried a few different strategies. There’s the good-cop/bad-cop approach, uninterested approach, buying-in-bulk approach, holding-the-money-out-so-they-see-it-and-can’t-resist approach, you know, the classics. My favorite is the I-saw-it-for-cheaper-at-the-shop-down-the-street-so-ill-just-buy-it-there-instead approach. There is nothing they can’t stand more than losing a sale to a neighbor shop.
What’s funny though is no matter which direction the haggling brings you with the shop owner- once you buy the item you are suddenly best friends. Even if you ended the bargaining by insulting the guys mother, once those Rupees are handed over he’ll shake your hand, say he loves America, kiss your feet, invite you to his house for dinner, braid your hair and oogle over how dreamy Ryan Gosling is… It’s strange but everyone leaves happy and sometimes you make a new friend, so I like it.
There was one shop owner who was studying his English from a mini textbook when Dani and I walked into his shop. He was very genuine, we chatted about our lives a bit, and then he asked us to write down some English phrases for him to learn. He was a sweet guy, and I ended up buying a pair of deluxe wrap pants from him, for a great price. I loved that he didn’t harass us about buying his stuff. Usually you have to be careful not to touch something or stare at an item for too long because once they see you-they pounce! They’ll start whipping out every version of that item, and make a complete mess of their shop. Once I picked up this wooden, cat shaped box that looked super silly. I didn’t want it at all, was just looking, but the guy ran into the back and dumped out this enormous crate filled with cat boxes. WOODEN CAT BOXES EVERYTWHERE. 200 rupees! 200 rupees! Good price madam! You like cat? Where you from?! Good price! Okay, okay, 180 rupees! Special price for you!
My suitcase barely passed the weight limit on my way here. It might be a struggle to bring all my goodies back home in December… Who am I kidding, it will definitely be a struggle. How was I expected to pack only two pairs of shoes to live off of for three months? Luckily my suitcase was filled with comfort food too: peanut butter, trail mix, granola bars, Gatorade and crystal light packets. Once they’re demolished I’ll be replacing them with floral Aladdin pants, turbans, and tapestries. Maybe some wooden cat boxes too.
Pushkar. View from our hotel rooftop.
Cow partyyyy.
Spectacular views.
Beauteous.
This reminded me of the market in Aladdin.
Mint Lemon juice slushy.
Claire: Udaipur
Udaipur was fabulous! The 7.5 hour train ride was long, but since it was during the daytime we could look out the window for entertainment. Seeing the rural way of life out the window was refreshing—it showed me a new side to India. Wide open spaces, healthy animals, children running freely and safely, and less garbage. We spent our days in Udaipur people-watching and relaxing in cafes, visiting a temple, watching a Rajasthani cultural dance show, seeing the City Palace-the largest one in Rajasthan, and touring Lake Pichola by boat. One thing we didn’t expect, but loved, was the ongoing celebration for Lord Ganesh. There were lively parades, powder paint, blasting music, enormous Ganesh statues, fireworks, confetti, and dancing in the streets. It lasted all of Friday night and throughout the entire day Saturday. India knows how to throw a block party, that’s for sure.
We shopped of course, and I had a nice conversation with a friendly tailor at his shop while the other girls were trying on clothes. I asked how long he’d been sewing, how he got into sewing, who taught him, if he loved it, and such. He explained that because of the caste system he had to be a tailor just like his father and grandmother. He was happy though. The love for his work came across really well in the clothes he made. He’d been sewing professionally for 14 years; after 4 years of instruction. He told me about how he loved what he did and was very proud of his work. It was nice to have a conversation with a local shop owner without being nagged to buy something. I did however leave his shop with a very nice blouse for a very good price. The top was uniquely designed, beautiful, and will now remind me of the tailor and his love for what he does.
Also, Indian pigeons don’t poop white- it’s diarrhea brown. I got a real good look when some landed on my shoulder… I thought it was a baby that was held out of a window to poop. Wrong. Pigeon.
Claire: Learning, Jodhpur, and Saying Good-bye
I’m learning a lot at my internship. The language barrier is still tricky, but it gets better everyday. My co-workers teach me hindi at lunch. I can count to ten now! I’ve been working on my AutoCAD skills, and re-drafting floor plans and sections in 2D. My supervisor told me to alter the plans, hatchings, and furniture layouts as I see fit. I think the first few weeks will be me practicing, observing, and asking questions, and hopefully the following months I’ll be able to do work that directly contributes to the company (while continuing to practice, observe, and ask questions, of course).
This weekend a few roommates and I took an overnight train to Jodhpur. It was my first sleeper train experience, and boy, was it an experience. Our friend had taken the air-conditioned sleeper train before and thought it was too cold, so we took the non-ac train. The trains were crowded, but not as crowded as I imagined they would be, so I was happy.
After a 5.5 hour ride, we arrived in Jodhpur at 8am, and went straight to Mehrangarh Fort. From atop the hill we took in the magnificsnt views of the entire city. Earlier when I had the thought you’ve seen one fort, you’ve seen them all- I take it back. This one was BEAUTIFUL, a sequence of courtyard after courtyard with strong style and intricate design.
Many of us were discussing how we felt the Mehrangarh fort was more beautiful than, dare we say it, the Taj Mahal. We had an audio tour, which was cool. Then we went zip-lining through the fort’s mountainous landscape! INCREDIBLE. MAGICAL. BEAUTIFUL. The company was called flying fox, and their course is Swiss designed and British run. We went on 6 different zip-lines, some going over water, some over parts of the fort. Spectacular views of the fort and the old blue city. We saw a couple sites where Batman-The Dark Knight Rises was filmed.
Sunday was our roommate Sanne’s last day. It was hard to say goodbye. It’s amazing how quickly you can bond with someone when you’re experiencing new, exciting, occasionally uncomfortable, unforgettable, and unique moments together. We made plans to meet up in New York for spring break this coming year. I hope it works out!
Claire: Taj Mahal
Our 18 hour adventure to and from Agra began Friday night at 11pm. Seven volunteers/interns plus one driver crammed into a jeep! No joke. The trunk part had fold down chairs, so three of us smashed in back there. The 6 hour rides were definitely an experience. I am lucky for my ability to sleep anytime, anywhere, but I don’t think the others were as fortunate. I became a pillow for both my neighbors, and when we weren’t trying to sleep we jammed out to Phish. Good bonding time.
The Taj Mahal was STUNNING. It was built by Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan for his favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal. It was worked on 24 hours a day by 20,000 laborers in 22 years. The Taj is truly priceless, because now-a-day all the money in the world couldn’t pay for the labor that went into the structure. It’s amazing being able to physically see something you’ve always studied from a textbook. It felt unreal. I was sure once I got up to the structure and poked it, it would pop and deflate. Instead, I felt the cool white marble, with smooth, intricate, stone inlay. That is the part that most amazed me. The detailing in the marble is so intricate one would expect it to be painted on. Instead, laborers (more like artists) would delicately carve many little pieces of stone, and carve out a setting for them in the marble to be inlayed.
The ride back was nice because it was daytime and there was so much to see out the window. After a few hours with my face glued to the window I realized a few things. One, India is obviously highly populated, but it is so populated that the largest distance I saw between two people was 20ft. The LARGEST was 20 ft. I think it’s safe to assume that the average person living here could go an entire lifetime surrounded by people, never being the only person in a room for more than a minute. No privacy, but also no loneliness. If an Indian came to the United States they’d probably think there was a zombie apocalypse, and all the people were gone (yikes!). Another thing I noticed is men and women show no signs of affection or contact with another in public. However men will hold hands, drape their arms around another, and hug in public. That was strange for me, because it is the complete opposite in the United States.
The first full week of interning starts Monday for me. I’m nervous, anxious, but very excited!
WE Travel Correspondent Blog: Intern in India 