Diving Right In

Arrived. In the morning. We have, how you say, bus lag? Have been here now at the project site for three days. None of my Hindi has helped, so much for orientation week. But, it is a slow process. Thankfully, it is not as hot here, and also the feel of the mountains brings me back home. The hills are beautiful, as are the people and my fellow volunteers.

Volunteering itself is something I am still working at--I have visited my school once so far, the next day was a holiday, and I wasn't quite told what I should be doing. Tomorrow might provide a bit more guidance, but perhaps it is the time for me to take initiative. Either way, it is an experience, and a lesson in diving into the moment.

There seem to be alot of those around here. On Wednesday, I went paragliding in the Himalayas. I wasn't sure if I was going to do it until I watched three other volunteers jump off a cliff, float up into the air and off into the Indian sunset. The feeling of flying is surreal, but not so unattainable on ground. Experiences are what we make them, and the feeling of peace, adrenaline and fear felt in the air can just as easily be found wherever you find yourself.

We learned that today, as walking back from the market to the house we went to talk to two girls sitting on the side of the road. To their left and down a road was their home, a small village tucked away in a street of Palampur. Well, not quite a village, but a community at least. We were immeadiately invited in, and after hesitating a second we dived in. Not knowing what to expect, and not being able to speak in Hindi, we joined the many families as they gave us a cold refreshment and we made their children some origami with the paper Arielle had just got. We sat there for half an hour, playing with the kids, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes and feeling like a part of the clan. The elders came to greet us and shake our hands, and I felt a sense of hierarchy and respect that I am foreign to. As we sat, one woman took the rings off of her hand and gave them to each of the four of us.

Being welcomed into a community that we don't know, that guidebooks tell us to steer clear of, that in our minds we are reluctant to enter, opens something in our hearts. Its right to give, to accept, to share. Its natural, healthy even (as Abbie would say). Why is it sometimes our first instinct, then, to reject this?

The Many Faces of Discomfort

A 12 hour bus ride. A/C, roomy and not so bad. Except for the dripping. Makes one wonder how many different ways there are to be slightly uncomfortable:

Being stared at, sweat everywhere, all the time; dripping AC on the bus; paying to pee; begging children; being a stranger in a strange land; having to pee on a bumpy road for 2 hours with no stop in sight; sweating in the shower; fiting four to a seat; not knowing; not having duct tape; smelling the sulfur of Delhi; later tasting salt that tastes like the smell of Delhi and not being able to eat eggs again; being constantly afraid of getting scammed, stolen, touted; horns on the road at night; fear of travelling alone; worry of bloodclots on 15 hour plane rides; malaria; Delhi Belly; dehydration; discomfort of having money, wealth and opportunity and not knowing how to use it wisely.

But, underneath it all, a happiness. What kind of happy am I? A curious happy, content but not complacent.

Because, as long as that list is, it is beans compared to what it could be.

Taj Mahal

Things I have learned in India thus far:
1. Honking is for awareness, not anger. *Cars honk always when passing, this is hard to get used to, as I generally associate honking with being in the wrong
2. Wear a sari. *Some locals will laugh at you, but most will giggle in a good way, and even offer to help you tie it correctly
3. Don't take pictures of other men's monkeys. *When in a stopped car on our way to the wonder of the world, a man with monkeys stood by our window. Some girls took pictures of them, and he shook our car until we paid him
4. Have a sense of humor, it will help get you through almost anything unpleasant. *People mean no harm, but life in India for a white girl can be trying
5. Don't be afraid to bargain
6. Don't be afraid to give
7. Smile for the camera! *"Just one photo," is a phrase any white person in India will hear from the locals countless times. We are all leaving behind proof of our visit on many Indian's cameras.
8. Indian drivers really do know their stuff, even if its scary as hell
9. Let your guard down, people may surprise you.
10. Cotton underwear is no good in hot climates.
11. Learn Hinglish. *Even if your Hindi is not perfect, speaking in an Indian accent peppered with English gets you far
12. The Taj Mahal truly is breathtaking-like the feeling you get a second before dropping into a giant wave train on the river.

Bollywood

Old Delhi, New Delhi, crowds, touts, beggars and more. The group of nine white tourists drew attention at all the sites we stopped at, and we were asked multiple times to take pictures with the locals, or Indian tourists. Finally, being treated like the celebraties we are? An interesting experience at best, at worst it turned into an uncomfortable experience. At the Jama Masjid mosque in Old Delhi, we drew a crowd that shoved their children in our laps to have their pictures taken while religious pilgrims prayed a few feet in front of us. There are some times when the novelty of being a tourist wears off.

Later, we see a Bollywood movie, showing the other side of India. Glamor, movie stars and sexy bodies fill the screen. It is hard to reconcile these images with those of the crowded streets and dirty water. It is shocking to see both side by side, but then I wonder if the only reason we think the contrast in India is so great is because here the poor is not segregated from the rich. Everything that India has to offer she shows on her sleeve, the good the bad and the ugly. Sometimes I feel that back home we are too afraid so afraid to show our old and infirm, our poor and broken, that we soon become uncomfortable in their presence.

On another note, we have all been realizing that the more time we spend here the more broken our English becomes. Misplaced verbs and incorrect tenses litter our speech, as if we are trying to blend in a bit more. Anything helps in the game of cover up.

To Delhi or not to Delhi

Third? Day in India. At least, I think it is. Nice thing about being on a vacation--ahem, I mean volunteering--is that one loses track of days as quickly as on the river. Speaking of which, many things here remind me of those river days. The heat, the sun setting and rising, dictating the day, and drinking only filtered water are a few. There are other reminders that I am hesitant to compare to my river time, such as watching locals living in slums cook over a fire outdoors, or working late into the dark because the day is too hot. This is a hard thing to say, however, as the two situations are much different. In the states, people pay to be able to sleep outside. Here, people have no other option. It's like pointing out the scenery to a man doing hard labor in the mountains--the aesthetics don't strike him as the most important part of his day.

The frequent power outages, touts and rickshaws, however, serve as reminders that I am not back home. When the power switches off, in the entire apartment complex in which the hostel is located, the absence of the whirling ceiling fans is felt within a few seconds. Heat is not far from the door.

Orientation began yesterday, and after the brief history of India, we began to learn basic Hindi. Sitting in a 80 degree living room above Gurgaon--a city a few km south of Delhi--trying to concentrate is a bit harder than comfortably learning in a classroom. Our attention drifts quickly, to the dismay of our instructor/hostel owner/program coordinator. Orientation week so far is going well--the emphasis being more on travel than service. I am curious to see how this changes in our attitudes when we arrive next Tuesday to our projects.

Tomorrow we travel to Delhi, and again on Thursday for sight seeing. I am preparing myself mentally for the adventure. However, I am eager to head North and escape the heat as much as I can. The amount of sweat that has poured out of my body in these last few days is monumental. As if the locals needed another signpost of my foreign-ness, aside from the pale skin, funny clothes, gaping looks, cameras pointed everywhere, and lack of communication, I also appear drenched in sweat everywhere I go, whereas they remain oblivious to the heat.

Namaste.

Smell that? It's not urine.

Plane has landed safely. Acrid aromas fill my nose: This is what New Delhi smells like. Urine, decay and heat. The bitterness wears off after awhile and as we dodge cyclists and dogs in the car on the way to the hostel, I feel safe in the care of an aggressively confident motorist; if he can anticipate the swerving, we might just arrive.

Since then, I have gotten very little sleep, and woken up to a land of, you guessed it, contrast. Beneath world class sky scrapers lie families living in abandoned lots, cooking over scrap wood. Walking around, my two companions and I--a woman from Germany and a tall man from California--get alot of stares. The hardest part is wanting to stare back, to look into the lives of these people, but being afraid to. Or, knowing if I look that street child in the eye he won't stop asking for money or food until I give in and hand out. We find a garden that wipes completely the smell of the city out of my nose.

With the pressure and the heat--97 F-- it is enough after 2 hours to head back to the comfort of the rooms. More volunteers arrive, some depart, and we eat delicious lunch. I have found a travelling companion, and look forward to the next few weeks here. It's going to be alright.

Aid in Perspective

Here is a link to one Times article discussing an aspect of my research, or at least the ideology behind it. Perhaps it can shed some light on why anyone would ever feel the need to question good intentions?

Bad Charity? (All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt!)

It's All Happening

I will be traveling to India.

The purpose: research on international volunteering organizations and experience abroad.

The reason: who is international volunteering benefiting more, communities or volunteers?

The mission: contract as little foreign diseases as possible, see, experience, taste another culture. The challenge: remain sane enough to call home, gather information and enjoy myself.

I fly out May 14th, and arrive in New Delhi Saturday May 15th. I will stay one week in New Delhi getting myself orientated to India with the volunteer group I am traveling with. After that, I will travel to Dharamsala, located in Himachal Praddesh, Northern India, at the base of the Himalayas. I will stay here for two weeks working on my volunteering project and research. After that, I will have a week and a couple of days yet to be determined before I fly home on June 15th.

The big concerns right now include transportation, communication and that week on my own. I have been alternately reassured that the week will be fine, and warned that traveling in India is incredibly challenging.

Some mornings I wake up excited, others terrified. Armed with only my basic knowledge of Indian religion, culture and history gathered through very useful courses at MSU, I am nervous of what I shall find. .As we all know, prior knowledge means little in the face of reality, and can at times even hinder the experience. I suppose I can only wait to see what happens.

In the meantime, here are some useful links:

http://himachal.nic.in/welcome.asp

http://himachaltourism.gov.in/

http://www.dharamsalanet.com/

http://wikitravel.org/en/Dharamsala