Monday, August 15, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
7.25.11. 11:59PM. Day 24. Patti.
This morning we woke up to a house full of people. Mayank, Sunny, and Dr. Paul were all sitting in the living room. I don't think I wrote about him before, because at the time I didn't really know who he was, but Dr. Paul is the doctor in the village of Patti (pronounced p'tti) and he is also the one who took me and Mary to Rishikesh our first week. I didn't find this out until last week, but he is also Sunny's father. Now, I don't know if you remember what I wrote about Sunny last week but having them both in Aunty's living room was both embarrassing and surreal. On top of knowing that I wrote about his son, I was embarrassed because I was walking at a ridiculously slow pace when he took us to Rishi. This was both due to the awkward bulk and heaviness of my bags and that I was walking up hill in my flip flops after a rain. They should be called "slippery-sons-of-accidents-waiting-to-happen-I-can't-believe-I-haven't-fallen-yet-oh-my-God-my-ankles-are-not-going-to-make-it" footwear. I was slipping and sliding the whole time...that and sweating profusely. A great first impression. But he just smiled and asked if I remembered him, I said 'yes' and smiled back. Sunny sat next to Mayank and was his usual silent self. Mayank said that he came to see us off, but really I think he and Sunny were there to show Matt and Rayleen how to get to their clinic sites. It was a sweet gesture though. As we got ready to leave, Mayank told us that he would be visiting us in Patti later in the week. Dr. Paul led the way to the jeep that was waiting for us. We loaded up and were on our way to pick up the other girls who would be joining us: Nikki, Anna, and Lauren.
Apparently there had been drama in their group as well. Anna and Lauren were two of the girls who wanted to switch to Agra at the last minute; Nikki continued on to Dharamsala. Mary and I were not sure how this week would go, we hoped for no cat fights. when we got to their homestay it was a little bit of an ordeal. The girls were not sure, as this was the 4th week of the program, if they would be going back to their homestay after coming back from Patti or if they'd go directly to the train station. Their homestay mother was out in the driveway bawling her eyes out (apparently she does this every time). So the brought ALL of their luggage with them. Anna, in particular, took up a lot of space - she'd bought a sitar, which in itself was bigger than her, but it came in a hard case that was twice its size! This think was huge and took up about as much space as a very stiff-legged, fully grown man. It was bad enough to have 5 people in the back, it was something else entirely to have this much baggage. Also, not to put all of the space blame on Anna, Lauren had a bag the size of a morbidly obese giant sea turtle. But anyway, we'd learned by this point that there is no such thing as personal space in India, so we all happily sat snugly together. Mary and I knew we would be going back to our homestay a day early, for two reasons - Mayank challenged me to a bowling duel for Thursday night and there was a possibility that we would be taking the 5Am Friday train to Delhi. Knowing this, we traveled light.
We started out hour long off-road journey up into the foothills. We climbed and winded our way up and up until everything below looked small. Between the many bumps and dips in the earthen road my mind couldn't help but wonder what Patti would be like. For the past 3 weeks I have heard countless stories from everyone in the other groups about this place. It was always their favorite. I couldn't wait to see for myself what it was all about. The closer we got, the more excited I got. Well, mostly excited - I'd heard that there would be 5:30AM yoga every morning, and as I knew myself very well...yeaaaaaaah - no. But the rest of it sounded great!
We'd arrived around 11AM, so a lot of the morning stuff would have already happened. We unloaded our stuff into our rooms and then just kind of hung out for awhile until lunch time.
Apparently there had been drama in their group as well. Anna and Lauren were two of the girls who wanted to switch to Agra at the last minute; Nikki continued on to Dharamsala. Mary and I were not sure how this week would go, we hoped for no cat fights. when we got to their homestay it was a little bit of an ordeal. The girls were not sure, as this was the 4th week of the program, if they would be going back to their homestay after coming back from Patti or if they'd go directly to the train station. Their homestay mother was out in the driveway bawling her eyes out (apparently she does this every time). So the brought ALL of their luggage with them. Anna, in particular, took up a lot of space - she'd bought a sitar, which in itself was bigger than her, but it came in a hard case that was twice its size! This think was huge and took up about as much space as a very stiff-legged, fully grown man. It was bad enough to have 5 people in the back, it was something else entirely to have this much baggage. Also, not to put all of the space blame on Anna, Lauren had a bag the size of a morbidly obese giant sea turtle. But anyway, we'd learned by this point that there is no such thing as personal space in India, so we all happily sat snugly together. Mary and I knew we would be going back to our homestay a day early, for two reasons - Mayank challenged me to a bowling duel for Thursday night and there was a possibility that we would be taking the 5Am Friday train to Delhi. Knowing this, we traveled light.
We started out hour long off-road journey up into the foothills. We climbed and winded our way up and up until everything below looked small. Between the many bumps and dips in the earthen road my mind couldn't help but wonder what Patti would be like. For the past 3 weeks I have heard countless stories from everyone in the other groups about this place. It was always their favorite. I couldn't wait to see for myself what it was all about. The closer we got, the more excited I got. Well, mostly excited - I'd heard that there would be 5:30AM yoga every morning, and as I knew myself very well...yeaaaaaaah - no. But the rest of it sounded great!
We'd arrived around 11AM, so a lot of the morning stuff would have already happened. We unloaded our stuff into our rooms and then just kind of hung out for awhile until lunch time.
...
I'm not going to lie - today is Thursday, August 11, 2011. I'd not really felt like keeping up with the journal since I came back from Amritsar. So now, two weeks after the fact, writing about my time in Patti is like writing about a dream. It's all here in my head, waiting to be put on paper, but every time I start I quickly find myself lost in memory. It's almost as if I don't want to tell this part - maybe because it was so special that I want to keep it all for myself; maybe I just don't have any arrangement of words that could describe, with any justice, the experience I had here, or maybe like with a dread, I have a secret hope that if I hold it in - it might come true. Or maybe, just maybe, deep down inside I can't get myself to write about it because I know that once I do, that means that it really did happen already, that it's over; I'm not there, and that my final week in India is over. I'm really back in America, back into reality, and no longer in my dreamland so far across the sea... but I shall try to continue.
...
The first day we went to the clinic right above where we sleep. The living, dining, all-round communal area is on the ground floor, which is at a lower level than the road, and the clinic and little convenience stand are on the second level at road height.. We 5 plus Dr. Paul sat in the clinic office and people started trickling in one by one. Ethically, I'm not allowed to try my hand at medicine on real patients - nor did I have any inclination to do so. But here we were in Patti and the first thing Dr. Paul has The Future Doctors of America do is check lungs and blood pressure.
This is the most hands-on medical actions these girls have had all month. We've witnessed a lot of things, but didn't actually participate... It was fun to see their levels of comfort at handling people. It was amusing to see Dr. Paul manhandle people's heads to look down their throats which most people did not look at all bothered by, but these girls struggled to get past the whole moving people into necessary positions. Their confidence levels rose as the week progressed. I'm so proud. By the end of the first day the girls thought that I should partake on the action too. When i said 'no thanks' and told them my reasons, most payed no attention and decided that when we had a slow moment in the clinic they would teach me how to take BP and check lungs. I agreed since they volunteered to be my victims and not the innocent villagers of Patti.
Another patient came in, but this one I recognized. Akki, the young yoga master, who I'd barely said a word to the previous week when he and Mayank dropped me off at Dr. Gandhi's, was in the hot seat. He gave us a weak little smile as Dr. Paul started poking and prodding him, and then he lifted up Akki's shirt (niiice), to show us the 3 or 4 bee stings he got while riding his motorbike in Rishikesh just the day before. He didn't know us, and we didn't know him. Nobody said much more than "oh. ouch...poor guy..." Nobody would have guessed at that moment how we would form our different relationships with him in the next three days. But for now, we all just sat there and watched Dr. Paul work his magic. After a few minutes he, too, went on his way, and another patient came in...
After clinic we went right downstairs for yoga in the little courtyard. We changed, grabbed mats from the closets and found ourselves face to face with our instructor once again. He looked tired or pained...probably both. I'd hoped the bee stings would have been reason enough to cancel yoga - but no such luck. There was a definite difference in the way Akki taught us yoga than the old man from Rishikesh. Well...Akki is actually from Rishi too, but the point is that their approaches were very different. The old man was obviously old and pushed us as though we too were old men, as is why I liked him so much. "Feeeeeeeeeel your booooodaay....Relax yoooooooooour miiiiiiind..." Akki, on the other hand, is a young yoga stud in his prime, and he pushed us like we ought to be where he is. Not really, but that's what it felt like. My muscles were protesting; I was shaking from my muscles freaking out from having to work. But I didn't complain, I held out and kept going; doing what ever was called for, for as long as it was called for. I knew that my body was going to get its revenge on me the next day, but for the time being i had an ego to protect. I showed no weakness, other than the violent shaking...
We'd finished, and within the hour it was dinnertime. Our cook, Rinku, was an amazing creature in and of himself. He is a small, slender man who is surprisingly crazy-strong and brave. Yet he is the gentlest soul with the purest spirit I have ever had the pleasure of coming across. Right after dinner he saved us all from a rather large scorpion that was right behind Lauren's chair. He quite happily went to the kitchen and brought out some tongs. He picked up the scorpion and put it over the fence, in the rice paddies. He came back singing; that's the other thing about him - he's always singing an old hindi love song from way back when or is playing his little wooden flute or hand drum. He is an amazing human being, and even though it seemed that he only spoke 4ish words of English, "Breakfash's ready," "lunch's ready," and "Dinner's ready" he taught us so much in only 4 days.
By the end of the first day, the tone for the rest of the week was set. Those men: Rinku, Virindir, and especially Dr. Paul loved to pull pranks on us - trying to jump out and scare us at random moments. Akki didn't necessarily try his hand at scaring but he would occasionally act as an attention grabber while the others got ready to strike. After the first day, we girls too got into the groove of retaliation, but also of sabotage to the other girls. We would scare Rinku back into the kitchen and lock him in, jump out at Dr. Paul, but also call to another girl to come out when one of the guys hid behind the door. Once, Dr. Paul was in the bathroom, and Rinku chucked a cup of water through the little open air grate above the door frame. We heard an, "Aaaaargh!" and we all giggled. He came out, grabbed his nearby umbrella and chased Rinku around the courtyard before going back to wash his hands.
After dinner things began to wind down. We'd been playing cards for awhile, teaching Akki how to play Go Fish and BS but after awhile the girls went into the rooms and only Akki and I were left outside at the table. He'd asked me to teach him how to do the bridge thing after a shuffle, and I tried my best but he was a slow learner. We talked for a long time getting to know each other a little more, but eventually he reminded me that there was the 5:30 AM yoga to look forward to. It was around midnight already, so we decided to leave it there, and called it a night.
Another patient came in, but this one I recognized. Akki, the young yoga master, who I'd barely said a word to the previous week when he and Mayank dropped me off at Dr. Gandhi's, was in the hot seat. He gave us a weak little smile as Dr. Paul started poking and prodding him, and then he lifted up Akki's shirt (niiice), to show us the 3 or 4 bee stings he got while riding his motorbike in Rishikesh just the day before. He didn't know us, and we didn't know him. Nobody said much more than "oh. ouch...poor guy..." Nobody would have guessed at that moment how we would form our different relationships with him in the next three days. But for now, we all just sat there and watched Dr. Paul work his magic. After a few minutes he, too, went on his way, and another patient came in...
After clinic we went right downstairs for yoga in the little courtyard. We changed, grabbed mats from the closets and found ourselves face to face with our instructor once again. He looked tired or pained...probably both. I'd hoped the bee stings would have been reason enough to cancel yoga - but no such luck. There was a definite difference in the way Akki taught us yoga than the old man from Rishikesh. Well...Akki is actually from Rishi too, but the point is that their approaches were very different. The old man was obviously old and pushed us as though we too were old men, as is why I liked him so much. "Feeeeeeeeeel your booooodaay....Relax yoooooooooour miiiiiiind..." Akki, on the other hand, is a young yoga stud in his prime, and he pushed us like we ought to be where he is. Not really, but that's what it felt like. My muscles were protesting; I was shaking from my muscles freaking out from having to work. But I didn't complain, I held out and kept going; doing what ever was called for, for as long as it was called for. I knew that my body was going to get its revenge on me the next day, but for the time being i had an ego to protect. I showed no weakness, other than the violent shaking...
By the end of the first day, the tone for the rest of the week was set. Those men: Rinku, Virindir, and especially Dr. Paul loved to pull pranks on us - trying to jump out and scare us at random moments. Akki didn't necessarily try his hand at scaring but he would occasionally act as an attention grabber while the others got ready to strike. After the first day, we girls too got into the groove of retaliation, but also of sabotage to the other girls. We would scare Rinku back into the kitchen and lock him in, jump out at Dr. Paul, but also call to another girl to come out when one of the guys hid behind the door. Once, Dr. Paul was in the bathroom, and Rinku chucked a cup of water through the little open air grate above the door frame. We heard an, "Aaaaargh!" and we all giggled. He came out, grabbed his nearby umbrella and chased Rinku around the courtyard before going back to wash his hands.
After dinner things began to wind down. We'd been playing cards for awhile, teaching Akki how to play Go Fish and BS but after awhile the girls went into the rooms and only Akki and I were left outside at the table. He'd asked me to teach him how to do the bridge thing after a shuffle, and I tried my best but he was a slow learner. We talked for a long time getting to know each other a little more, but eventually he reminded me that there was the 5:30 AM yoga to look forward to. It was around midnight already, so we decided to leave it there, and called it a night.Thursday, August 11, 2011
7.24.11. 11:59 PM. Day 23. (The 'Royal') We Are The Champions.
I'd made Mayank promise to take us out. Before we felt for Amritsar, Mary and I agreed that we wanted to hang out with him away from work. So at the train station when he dropped us off on Friday, we told him that we would like to go out to dinner with him on Sunday after we got back. He agreed. So when Sunday night came around, he came to pick us up, and Mayank, Mary and I headed to the Opal Lounge for dinner. We had a great time, laughed a lot, told stories, and decided to go to Baskin Robins for ice cream. It turns out he does this with all of the students who go out to dinner with him. I think he just likes Baskin Robins. Mississippi Mudd, to be exact. His favorite flavor.
Well. Above Baskin Robins there was an arcade. In this arcade was an air hockey table. Now, I don't know how well you know me but the majority of people don't know two things about me that would prove useful within a 500ft radius of an arcade with an air hockey table. #1: I can get VERY competitive. We are not friends at this point. #2: I am the queen of air hockey. I tried to warn him, but alas the male ego was stung and so the shit-talking battle began. We went upstairs to the arcade and there it was - the air hockey table. But this table was unlike any I had seen before - this one was massive, and each player was given two paddles (in hindsight, it could have been meant for 4 players...). I had never played with two, so I felt that the second was only going to slow me down. I was tempted to give it to Mayank because it looked like he could use a third, but instead I just put it on top of the edge of the table. The score was 3-0, and my dupata (scarf) kept falling off of my shoulder so I took my hands away from the table to tie it behind me. My hands were quite literally behind my back when Mayank made his shot. And everybody saw it - the two of us, Mary, and the two arcade attendants. He was so proud of himself: 3-1. He gleefully turned up the notch on his shit-talking dial. I just smiled. I slammed in 3 straight down the middle shots back to back to back. That shut him right up. The last shot I made with a bank and the sweet odor of victory filled the room. He, rather smoothly, proceeded with, "Ah yes. Very good - as you see I let you win..." followed by a dose of, "It was my first time; I've never played that game before in my life." Whatever. 7-1 (the 1 gained in a cheeseball way). I picked up my invisible crown from the table and placed it right back on my head where it belongs. By now, since this game was won in another country, I can now claim International Air Hockey Champion as my rightful title. Bwahahaha. As he continued to whine about his loss, I told him that we could have a rematch when ever we wanted. And that was that. He took us back to Aunty's house. I fell asleep still smelling the sweet aroma of victory.
Well. Above Baskin Robins there was an arcade. In this arcade was an air hockey table. Now, I don't know how well you know me but the majority of people don't know two things about me that would prove useful within a 500ft radius of an arcade with an air hockey table. #1: I can get VERY competitive. We are not friends at this point. #2: I am the queen of air hockey. I tried to warn him, but alas the male ego was stung and so the shit-talking battle began. We went upstairs to the arcade and there it was - the air hockey table. But this table was unlike any I had seen before - this one was massive, and each player was given two paddles (in hindsight, it could have been meant for 4 players...). I had never played with two, so I felt that the second was only going to slow me down. I was tempted to give it to Mayank because it looked like he could use a third, but instead I just put it on top of the edge of the table. The score was 3-0, and my dupata (scarf) kept falling off of my shoulder so I took my hands away from the table to tie it behind me. My hands were quite literally behind my back when Mayank made his shot. And everybody saw it - the two of us, Mary, and the two arcade attendants. He was so proud of himself: 3-1. He gleefully turned up the notch on his shit-talking dial. I just smiled. I slammed in 3 straight down the middle shots back to back to back. That shut him right up. The last shot I made with a bank and the sweet odor of victory filled the room. He, rather smoothly, proceeded with, "Ah yes. Very good - as you see I let you win..." followed by a dose of, "It was my first time; I've never played that game before in my life." Whatever. 7-1 (the 1 gained in a cheeseball way). I picked up my invisible crown from the table and placed it right back on my head where it belongs. By now, since this game was won in another country, I can now claim International Air Hockey Champion as my rightful title. Bwahahaha. As he continued to whine about his loss, I told him that we could have a rematch when ever we wanted. And that was that. He took us back to Aunty's house. I fell asleep still smelling the sweet aroma of victory.
7.23.11. 5:20 PM. Day 22. I Can’t Come Up With a Good Title for This One.
So the train ride was not to bad. We had fun, met some friendly people, Mati’s bag was stolen… It was rather bizzar, the train made a half hour stop in Haridwar and Mary and I decided to venture off the train in search for bottled water. Mati stayed on the train with the nice people we met. Apparently two of the many orange-clad people there for the month-long Shiva festival (the French lady was right after all) came onto the train and took the bag.
Everybody saw them there and walk away with the bag too, but they did it in such a way that everyone thought it was their bag. Luckily for Mati, she was a smart cookie; she kept her phone, money, and passport in a little pouch around her neck. The guys only got away with a change of clothes, a toothbrush, toilet paper, and eye drops. A waste. Other than that our train ride was rather enjoyable and we arrived in Amritsar around 8AM the following day.
We automatically thought about breakfast but doubted that any of the restaurants were open before 10AM. Everything else in India seems to open at 10AM so we figured the food would too. We decided to go directly to the Golden Temple, Sri Harmandir Sahib Ji, and get the langar, free meal, while we were there. We took an A. Rick (somehow) to the Golden Temple which was a good distance away – maybe 5km from the train station, and we only had to pay 80 rps total. Not too shabby. It seems we got there just before the morning rush but, being devout Sikhs, many were already there, having gotten up by 4AM. I saw the golden roof first as we turned the corner. I was in shock and awe. I was finally there. The trip to Agra was nice and all but my main place to see had been the Golden Temple from day 1. And there it was. Oh. My. God. We walked up, put our shoes in the shoe rack area, got the boys some bandanas to put on their heads and we girls put our scarves (chunis in Punjabi). I washed my hands, and we walked through the shallow water thing they have and we walked through the atrium and there it was – really in the middle of the water, really made of gold, and really – really there.
After langar we went down and just sat under one of the open passages facing the temple. One lady came up and tried to politely explain to Mati not to show the bottoms of her feet to the temple. Mati was confused because this was all in Punjabi so I took over and explained what the lady meant. Mati doesn’t seem to like being told what to do by authoritative figures, so my explaining seemed to defuse her anger. As we sat, one of the temple guards would come around and tell people off for sleeping or facing the wrong way. Every time he came around I would hold my breath and every time he would just pass me by. I was relieved and proud to know that I’d done nothing wrong. We eventually got up and made our way over to the end of the really long line to get into the temple. Again, only pictures could describe the beauty inside, but since photography was not allowed inside I can only try my best. It was gorgeous. That’s all I’ve got. I was so caught up with the experience of just being there that I can’t describe more than the general layout. I’d always thought that the temple was bigger on the inside but it is actually very small. There is about enough room for about 50 people on the first floor in the sitting area by Guru Granth Sahib Ji (the holy book) and then there is a little space for the rest of the followers to bow and mill through around. Around the sides there are staircases to the second floor where another holy book is being read, also there is a cabinet with little books that people can read hymns from. There is another staircase to the roof where there is a very small room where another book is being read in front of a small group. I’m not quite sure about the meaning/symbolism behind the three layers and three books etc, but the view from the top was amazing. I couldn’t help but be amused by the willingness of Sikhs to grow with technology. I’d thought that this feature was unique to the W. Sacramento Gurdwara but I was wrong – in one of the corners of the courtyard there was a movie theatre screen sized jumbotron that displayed the current hymn being sung, in Punjabi and in English words.
We stayed there from around 9:30 in the morning to about 1:15 in the afternoon. We left mostly due to the heat and because we saw all we felt we needed to see inside the temple courtyard. We’d seen a coffee shop, Barista, that we also frequented in D.Dun, and decided to go there to beat the heat. On our way to our much needed AC-filled coffee house, we were approached by an old man trying to get us to hire one of his jeeps as a taxi to the India/Pakistan border for the flag ceremony, Bhaga Border. We’d heard about this ceremony and, in fact, did want to see it, but at the moment we all just wanted something cold so we took his card and brushed him off. Once we got into Barista and cooled down a but, we discussed taking the taxi to the border. Creepy-Travel-Ticket-Guy had offered to arrange a taxi for us at 100 rps a head each way. This old man was asking for 100 rps per person round trip, plus 10 rps for the toll. We’d decided to do it. When we left to shop on the main street, the old guy found us again, rather quickly, and this time we signed up for the ride.
When I say that Mayank told us to go see this ceremony, understand that that is all he told us about it. We had no idea what to expect…either from the ceremony or from the old man. He’d said to meet back up with him at 3:30, so we did. The whole time we couldn’t help but feel that we were getting scammed. There were a few moments where we were pretty worried but there was never fear; at most we would be out a little over 500rps. But this turned out to be a legit deal, we were grouped together with 3 21 year old British university graduates. They told us about how they’d worked their way down from Jammu and are going to end up in Goa by the end of the next few weeks. It was happy time every time they said anything – those British accents, man, woo, nice. We all found their company rather refreshing. The guys liked talking to them about soccer teams, and we girls amused ourselves by admiring the tastefully muscular physique each of them possessed and showed off. It was amusing because they all had on skin-gripping tank tops, above the knee shorts, and flip flops. They were quite the sight for any who looked because having gotten used to the standard of modesty in India, these guys showed more skin than girls in America. At least, that’s what it felt like. But since they were men, no one either cared or said anything to them.
The journey to the border was about 30km from Amritsar to the gate. It took just under an hour – the going was slow because it seemed like it was rush hour and everyone was going to the same place we were. We passed a toll booth and saw signs for the border. The driver pulled over by a building that looked like it would have been a small convenience store had it not just been full of lockers. We were instructed to take out our passports and cameras; our bags would have to be left in lockers. Also, we could have to walk the last 1km to the gate, cars could go no further. This road was soon overwhelmed by thousands of people going to the border. Completely surrounded on all sides, even if we had wanted to leave it probably would have taken longer than if we just continued onward. The walk was painfully slow. There were so many people that it got difficult to breath, it seemed like there wasn’t enough air to support us all. After over half an hour we got to a point where we could see the heavily armed military men directing the flow of traffic to the checkpoint. One of them announced that all women go to the left. I grabbed my girls and led them to the side and we easily passed up a few hundred men. This happened because people were getting patted down at the security checkpoint and the women were siphoned off to behind a barrier to be checked. Apparently there were far less women going to this event than men because we got through much faster than the guys. To top off our luck, it turns out that there was a foreigner VIP section, so we got to bypass the rest of the masses and sit fairly close to the gate. The being put in the “Foreign Guest” VIP section was funny in its own rite because even with my passport in hand, the guard tried to peel me away from my whities and stick me with the other Indians. I had to insist and flash my passport at him one more time before he let me follow. In hindsight, it would have been more fun to sit with the masses because they were very much involved in the ceremony. They chanted, they cheered, danced, and basically had a party trying to outdo the Pakistani crowd on the other side. The foreigners just sat, watched and took pictures of the whole thing.
There is actually a dead space between the borders of India and Pakistan. I’m not sure of the actual distance, but it probably is 4 or 5 feet. There was a gate for each country so that the border could not be crossed unless both were open. The soldiers from either side were dressed in similar garb but with distinct colors (I actually liked the Pakistani outfit better). The Indian uniform is an interesting one. It is khaki. The lower ranked officers wore red and gold turbans that are tied (and probably starched) in such a way that the ends stick straight up on top (cockatoo style).
The ceremony took place in a stadium of sorts. Half of the stadium was built on either side. The stands wrapped around the entire place (except the dead space) and were raised fairly high. The entire place was packed on both sides with people trying to out-cheer each other.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
7.22.11. 4:37 PM. Day 21. Death and a Salesman.
Today was a very rushed day. We started out by waiting for Sunny to come get us to take us men's clothes shopping. He was supposed to get to the homestay between 9:30 and 10AM. We had a little less than 2 hrs to shop before we had our last clinic rotation with Dr. Gandhi. By 10:30, Mary got fed up and went out on her own. At 10:15 I'd texted Sunny and asked him if he was coming - and soon. He replied "yes" to both. I told Mary, but the Indian Standard Time had been boiling up anger and frustration inside her, so she got ready to leave while I stayed, listening to music until Sunny got there. About three minutes after Mary left, Sunny rang the doorbell. He said he saw her at the corner, I called her but she still went off on her own. When I saw that he came on his bike and began to turn it around, I'm not going to lie - I was hoping that we were going to take it - but no. He brought it into Aunty's driveway. We ended up taking an Auto, and he obviously doesn't bargain because the guy wanted 80 rps to the Clocktower. We all know that it should be no more than 40. I quickly got him down to 60, but didn't have the time to go further - we had shopping to do. I thought we were going to the Clocktower to shop at the Bazaar, but no - apparently Sunny told the driver to go to FabInida instead. From the beginning people had been telling us to go there, and from the beginning we could never find it. We also knew it was ridiculously overpriced. But there I was, at FabIndia, with Sunny, shopping for a kurta for Josh. I figured he was the only one who would probably actually wear it out of the men in my family. I also bought a Kurti for Katherine and I bought a salwar (pants) for my friend Valeria, who requested those - since I requested she bring me a woven hat from her trip to Peru. All in all, I spent way too much, and will never shop there again. Ha ha. It reminded me of a Pier 1 Imports, if you've ever been there. From there I told him that I wanted to go to an ATM. So we combed the street looking around, we found two - the first one decided not to work half way through the transaction. The next one was empty, so we were on our way back to the Clocktower when Sunny got a phone call from Mayank, and he said he would meet us shortly. Little did I know that he'd seen us cross the street from not too far away, so he soon appeared and crossed the street in a very, very bright red shirt. He was followed by another young man, Akki - the 21 year old yoga master working in Patti, who was sporting some very shiny and reflective aviators. They came, Mayank crossed the road again to get some papers from his car, was soon back, and then quickly went back again and brought back his whole car. This was all very amusing to watch as this bright red blop went back and forth across the road to only then finally just drive his car over after all of the hassle of crossing the road. Mayank asked me if I'd like a ride to Dr. Gandhi's hospital and, of course, I accepted. We all got in the car, Sunny was dropped off at the post office for an errand, and Mayank and Akki took me to Dr. Gandhi's. I got there about 15 minutes early and Mary came in after only a few minutes. We exchanged stories as we waited for Dr. G to arrive.
Dr. Gandhi arrived at 12 and we only got done saying hello and saw one or two patients when he was called to go into the ICCU. He signaled with a slight wave of his hand that he wanted us to follow, so we got up quickly and tried to keep up with his surprisingly speedy gate. We went up the ramp and into the ICCU. I had no idea what to expect, but it would never have been what I saw. Most of the people there were old men and women with diabetes related complications like hypertension, angina, vertigo, and other things I haven't heard of before. This time there was a young man in his early 20s who, we were told, had leukemia. He was unconscious and had a racing heart rate and blood pressure of around 208/112...I think. His breathing was irregular and shallow. They were hooking him up to a respirator when we got there. And that's when Dr. Gandhi chose to inform us that he was probably bleeding into his brain. I didn't have to be a doctor to know that that was not a good thing. A lot was happening and I didn't know what to do - I didn't even want to be there, but I couldn't really leave. The patient would twitch every now and then, but other than the assisted breathing he didn't move at all. His heart was beating so fast. Luckily Dr. Gandhi didn't keep us there for long. We went back to his office and continued seeing patients. I asked him what they would do for the patient, he said that there was nothing they could do...20 minutes later he got a very short phone call. "The patient has gone," is all he said to us. He went on looking at patients, but I found myself unable to pay attention. Maybe it's a doctor thing or maybe it's that I haven't been exposed to it that much, but death is one of this things that was always "over there" far away and not seen. But there I was, smack in the middle of it - a reality I'd managed to avoid but now had no choice but to face. I was numb for awhile, just wallowing in the fear I was forced to confront.
The rest of the time was more light hearted and rather amusing. It seemed that 1:30 on Friday afternoons were reserved for pharmaceutical representatives to come try to sell their shiny new products. The would come in one at a time in their over shiny suits, with their big black briefcases, and wormy smiles. It seems that the typical salesman aura is universal because these guys had "cheese ball" written all over them. It got fun after awhile because we could see Dr. Gandhi messing with the hope of a sale for some of them, while we rated the newness of each rep. With one it was quite obvious it was his first day - especially since he said it was his first day. These guys just slimed and weaseled their way in and out of the office, giving their pieces and samples, and flashing their fake smiles.
Sadly, 2:30 came around too quickly and our last day at Dr. Gandhi's clinic came to an end. We had to run an errand before lunch, so we took an A. Rick to the travel guy we ordered our train tickets to Amritsar from. It was a strange experience since just the afternoon before the guy was talkative and sociable with us, and this time he got wide eyed when we approached and seemed nervous to see us. The contrast from the day before was so apparent, but I didn't even bother to think of why. Some people just have up days and low days - I don't know. We also caught him while he was eating so it could have been that too.
It wasn't until later that afternoon that I found out why he was acting so strange. But first, backstory:
On Thursday, after our weekly group meeting, Mayank told those of us who were going to Amritsar to go around the corner from our coffee shop and check the ticket availability for the train. We 5 all went over to this little upperstory shop that was only reachable by climbing up twelve 4 inch or less wide steps. There was so little space in there that it was hard for us all to fit up there comfortably at one time. Still there were 4 chairs, other than the one the guy was in behind the desk, and he insisted that the 3 girls take 3 of them while Sunny took the fourth. Because the other girls, Mary and Mati, took the ones on the outside, I was forced to take the one in the middle - right in front of the guy and his desk. The guy was friendly and spoke English, but still Mati did most of the business talk. I just sat there and watched. Eventually we three began talking about the US and Canada since that is where we are from and where he is going to visit in a few months time. After awhile he asked what we do, and I said I was an Anthropology student. He tried to be sly about it but I could see in the reflection of the glass cabinet behind him that he was looking it up on Wikipedia. He tried to act like he knew what it was but failed to grasp the concept of my general field of study. In the end he settled on complimenting my eyes and telling me other nice things about myself. It was a little strange but by this point, although I am not graceful in anyway, shape, or form about receiving compliments, I am used to getting them - especially from men here, and especially about my eyes. But still, I didn't think much about it and we left with the promise to be back the next day to get our tickets and pay. So there is the background.
After we had gotten the tickets, we made our way over to Dr. Prem Nath's. Matti was there but PA was not. Mary had to go use the restroom, so Mati leaned over to me and asked me if we got our tickets yet. When I said that we did, she asked about how the guy acted. That perked up my interest because he was acting differently and when I told her that, she giggled and said she knew why.
Mati had received a few text messages from the guy the night before. These were not messages that had anything to do with our tickets either. They mostly consisted of compliments such as, "you are a nice girl; you are sweet; I can't stop thinking about your eyes; we should go have coffee." etc. But it was the eyes pne that raised her red flag. She remembered that he had said that to me a few hours before, so she asked him if he's meant to send these to me, and he responded with, "This isn't Arlette?" After Mati assured him that she wasn't me, he proceeded to ask her for my number - to which she truthfully replied that she didn't have it. He then asked her if I have a boyfriend. Uncertain, she cautioned with a 'yes' answer. He replied with, "Oh, okay, I guess I won't ask her out then." Mati then said that when she went to him in the morning for her ticket he asked her not to tell me about their conversation from the previous night.
Of course, I had no idea any of this took place, so I just thought the guy was acting strange but didn't think much else about it. Looking back, now knowing the whole story, a lot of thinks make sense. I was kind of dumbfounded by the whole experience because I was oblivious to the whole situation. I am finding that I have a hard time differentiating when men are being nice or are flirting. Either way, I've been trying to keep a low profile so I don't know why I am getting so much male attention here...
That very night we were to leave for Amritsar via an overnight train. The journey would take around 12 hours in all. Our train would leave at 7:40PM so we decided the night before that we would not go to Dr. Nanda's since Aunty wanted us home at 6 for dinner. Mati came with us from Dr. Prem Nath's and when we were walking down the ally to Aunty's house a few bikes honked and we obligingly moved to the left, not even needing to look back. One car decided to get behind us and honk obnoxiously even though we moved over as far left as we could. Still honking and still behind us, the car for whatever reason refused to pass us by. Finally we all whipped around to confront the nuisance behind the wheel. It was Mayank, and Daniel in the passenger seat. Nice prank. The 3 of us got in the car and Mayank drove us the rest of the 200 feet to the house. We al came inside and surprised Aunty - she laid out a few more place settings and for the first time we all looked like one big family, talking loudly, laughing, passing around food, and having an all around good time. We basically looked like a commercial for the Olive Garden. I cherished that moment, since big happy family meals seem few and far between nowadays. After dinner we got all of our packs and 6 people miraculously into Mayank's wee-midget of a car. There is a reason I always call 'shotgun,' 4 of them sandwiched into the back seats. Limbs and heads poking out at odd places. Mayank turns on the music and Biz Markie comes on and I turned up the volume. We all start singing, "Have you ever met a girl that you tried to date..." and then Mayank blasted it even higher. All of us, "OH BABY YOU! you've got what I need, but you say he's just a friend, but you say he's just a friend..." We must have been quite the sight; 5 American 20somethings and an Indian 30something all squished into a tiny little car, blasting an old school American rap song, with body parts coming out of weird places, zooming down the congested streets of Dehradun in the waning sunlight.
We made it to the train station with 15 minutes to spare. I know I said it the week before, but this was the beginning of the best weekend ever.
Dr. Gandhi arrived at 12 and we only got done saying hello and saw one or two patients when he was called to go into the ICCU. He signaled with a slight wave of his hand that he wanted us to follow, so we got up quickly and tried to keep up with his surprisingly speedy gate. We went up the ramp and into the ICCU. I had no idea what to expect, but it would never have been what I saw. Most of the people there were old men and women with diabetes related complications like hypertension, angina, vertigo, and other things I haven't heard of before. This time there was a young man in his early 20s who, we were told, had leukemia. He was unconscious and had a racing heart rate and blood pressure of around 208/112...I think. His breathing was irregular and shallow. They were hooking him up to a respirator when we got there. And that's when Dr. Gandhi chose to inform us that he was probably bleeding into his brain. I didn't have to be a doctor to know that that was not a good thing. A lot was happening and I didn't know what to do - I didn't even want to be there, but I couldn't really leave. The patient would twitch every now and then, but other than the assisted breathing he didn't move at all. His heart was beating so fast. Luckily Dr. Gandhi didn't keep us there for long. We went back to his office and continued seeing patients. I asked him what they would do for the patient, he said that there was nothing they could do...20 minutes later he got a very short phone call. "The patient has gone," is all he said to us. He went on looking at patients, but I found myself unable to pay attention. Maybe it's a doctor thing or maybe it's that I haven't been exposed to it that much, but death is one of this things that was always "over there" far away and not seen. But there I was, smack in the middle of it - a reality I'd managed to avoid but now had no choice but to face. I was numb for awhile, just wallowing in the fear I was forced to confront.
The rest of the time was more light hearted and rather amusing. It seemed that 1:30 on Friday afternoons were reserved for pharmaceutical representatives to come try to sell their shiny new products. The would come in one at a time in their over shiny suits, with their big black briefcases, and wormy smiles. It seems that the typical salesman aura is universal because these guys had "cheese ball" written all over them. It got fun after awhile because we could see Dr. Gandhi messing with the hope of a sale for some of them, while we rated the newness of each rep. With one it was quite obvious it was his first day - especially since he said it was his first day. These guys just slimed and weaseled their way in and out of the office, giving their pieces and samples, and flashing their fake smiles.
Sadly, 2:30 came around too quickly and our last day at Dr. Gandhi's clinic came to an end. We had to run an errand before lunch, so we took an A. Rick to the travel guy we ordered our train tickets to Amritsar from. It was a strange experience since just the afternoon before the guy was talkative and sociable with us, and this time he got wide eyed when we approached and seemed nervous to see us. The contrast from the day before was so apparent, but I didn't even bother to think of why. Some people just have up days and low days - I don't know. We also caught him while he was eating so it could have been that too.
It wasn't until later that afternoon that I found out why he was acting so strange. But first, backstory:
On Thursday, after our weekly group meeting, Mayank told those of us who were going to Amritsar to go around the corner from our coffee shop and check the ticket availability for the train. We 5 all went over to this little upperstory shop that was only reachable by climbing up twelve 4 inch or less wide steps. There was so little space in there that it was hard for us all to fit up there comfortably at one time. Still there were 4 chairs, other than the one the guy was in behind the desk, and he insisted that the 3 girls take 3 of them while Sunny took the fourth. Because the other girls, Mary and Mati, took the ones on the outside, I was forced to take the one in the middle - right in front of the guy and his desk. The guy was friendly and spoke English, but still Mati did most of the business talk. I just sat there and watched. Eventually we three began talking about the US and Canada since that is where we are from and where he is going to visit in a few months time. After awhile he asked what we do, and I said I was an Anthropology student. He tried to be sly about it but I could see in the reflection of the glass cabinet behind him that he was looking it up on Wikipedia. He tried to act like he knew what it was but failed to grasp the concept of my general field of study. In the end he settled on complimenting my eyes and telling me other nice things about myself. It was a little strange but by this point, although I am not graceful in anyway, shape, or form about receiving compliments, I am used to getting them - especially from men here, and especially about my eyes. But still, I didn't think much about it and we left with the promise to be back the next day to get our tickets and pay. So there is the background.
After we had gotten the tickets, we made our way over to Dr. Prem Nath's. Matti was there but PA was not. Mary had to go use the restroom, so Mati leaned over to me and asked me if we got our tickets yet. When I said that we did, she asked about how the guy acted. That perked up my interest because he was acting differently and when I told her that, she giggled and said she knew why.
Mati had received a few text messages from the guy the night before. These were not messages that had anything to do with our tickets either. They mostly consisted of compliments such as, "you are a nice girl; you are sweet; I can't stop thinking about your eyes; we should go have coffee." etc. But it was the eyes pne that raised her red flag. She remembered that he had said that to me a few hours before, so she asked him if he's meant to send these to me, and he responded with, "This isn't Arlette?" After Mati assured him that she wasn't me, he proceeded to ask her for my number - to which she truthfully replied that she didn't have it. He then asked her if I have a boyfriend. Uncertain, she cautioned with a 'yes' answer. He replied with, "Oh, okay, I guess I won't ask her out then." Mati then said that when she went to him in the morning for her ticket he asked her not to tell me about their conversation from the previous night.
Of course, I had no idea any of this took place, so I just thought the guy was acting strange but didn't think much else about it. Looking back, now knowing the whole story, a lot of thinks make sense. I was kind of dumbfounded by the whole experience because I was oblivious to the whole situation. I am finding that I have a hard time differentiating when men are being nice or are flirting. Either way, I've been trying to keep a low profile so I don't know why I am getting so much male attention here...
That very night we were to leave for Amritsar via an overnight train. The journey would take around 12 hours in all. Our train would leave at 7:40PM so we decided the night before that we would not go to Dr. Nanda's since Aunty wanted us home at 6 for dinner. Mati came with us from Dr. Prem Nath's and when we were walking down the ally to Aunty's house a few bikes honked and we obligingly moved to the left, not even needing to look back. One car decided to get behind us and honk obnoxiously even though we moved over as far left as we could. Still honking and still behind us, the car for whatever reason refused to pass us by. Finally we all whipped around to confront the nuisance behind the wheel. It was Mayank, and Daniel in the passenger seat. Nice prank. The 3 of us got in the car and Mayank drove us the rest of the 200 feet to the house. We al came inside and surprised Aunty - she laid out a few more place settings and for the first time we all looked like one big family, talking loudly, laughing, passing around food, and having an all around good time. We basically looked like a commercial for the Olive Garden. I cherished that moment, since big happy family meals seem few and far between nowadays. After dinner we got all of our packs and 6 people miraculously into Mayank's wee-midget of a car. There is a reason I always call 'shotgun,' 4 of them sandwiched into the back seats. Limbs and heads poking out at odd places. Mayank turns on the music and Biz Markie comes on and I turned up the volume. We all start singing, "Have you ever met a girl that you tried to date..." and then Mayank blasted it even higher. All of us, "OH BABY YOU! you've got what I need, but you say he's just a friend, but you say he's just a friend..." We must have been quite the sight; 5 American 20somethings and an Indian 30something all squished into a tiny little car, blasting an old school American rap song, with body parts coming out of weird places, zooming down the congested streets of Dehradun in the waning sunlight.
We made it to the train station with 15 minutes to spare. I know I said it the week before, but this was the beginning of the best weekend ever.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
7.21.11. 1:18PM. Day 20. Going Postal.
Okay. So. Last week after the group meeting some of us went and bought a whole bunch of postcards. I don't know if people were actually going to send them - but I wanted to. I held onto them until I could figure out what I wanted to say to each person. In the mean time I gave my mom the task of getting me the addresses of everybody I needed. Se came through and texted me 5 of the addresses I needed. Her's and another I knew already, and one was a repeat. So 9 in all. I'd wanted to mail them on Friday but that proved no possible (I forget why) and I was in Agra for the weekend so I hoped for Monday. I brought them with me. It was pouring rain and the post office above Dr. Nanda's closed an hour before we got there.
We got a chance to go yesterday morning to the main post office in D. Dun, near the Clocktower. Getting there was half the fun because I got to barter with the A. Rich drivers. The first one drove up to us and this was the conversation that followed:
ME: Clocktower?
DRIVER1: Okay.
ME: How much?
DRIVER1: 70
ME: 40
DRIVER1: 70
ME: 40
DRIVER1: 70
ME: ok, jao-go. (waved him off)
Another driver pulls right up as this one was leaving.
ME: Clocktower?
DRIVER2: (nod)
ME: how much?
DRIVER2: 80.
ME: 40.
DRIVER2: 80.
ME: 40.
DRIVER2: 60.
ME: 40.
DRIVER2: 60
ME: No. Go. (wave off and look back for another.)
DRIVER2: Teek hai.
ME: 40?
DRIVER2: Teek hai.
ME: (to Mary) Let's go!
It was really fun. And I find that I enjoy bartering a lot. There is a total sense of accomplishment when you talk your way down to the actual price. Soniya, Aunty's daughter, had told us that from home to the Clocktower it should never cost more than 40 rps. So that is why I insisted on 40.
He drove us to the Clocktower area. We paid him and crossed the street to the big white building that was the post office. When we got inside we immediately were not sure about what to do or where to go. From wall to wall there was a wooden counter with a glass divider. There were about 12-14 desk partitions at this long counter, all designated for something - all written in Hindi. I looked to the left and saw a semi-circular counter in the corner that looked like an info desk (but wasn't). I approached the guy and asked him where I would find stamps. I showed him the postcards and he looked at them, and pointed to the other counter at the far end of the building - we went and I approached that counter too and waited for the lady's attention. Just so that it is clear - where ever there was a person behind a counter - people were swarming. The lady looked and me and I said that I wanted stamps. I showed her the postcards and she asked how many there were. I said 9. At 15 rps a piece I paid 135 rps in all. Then I asked her where I was supposed to take them next. She pointed to the general direction of the 12-14 tellers. I chose one of the emptier tellers and started there. I got sent to 3 different places until I finally just went up to another empty one with a girl who luckily spoke English. She took the postcards, stamped them and put them in the out-going box. I thanked her a few times and we left in high spirits.
The whole experience wasn't too difficult, it was just confusing and a little bit trying as, just like with the roads outside, lines were a construct of a foreigner's imagination. People just go around you to the front if you don't join in on the dog pile. People are too busy, it seems, to bother with useless things like the European construct of 'proper etiquette' in a public place. I would be very interested in seeing which system - order, or controlled chaos - works more efficiently. I don't know, the way things work here just makes more sense to me. Order and lines can drive a person crazy - always waiting, waiting; just being a sheep. Here, you go more or less where you want, and if you see someone coming your way you both just move to the left. So simple. So effective. This seems to be the rule of life here - just move to the left. Why do we make things more complicated than they need to be?
For the most part nothing else special happened yesterday that stands out to me. I did ride on a scooter at night. Dr. Nanda gave Mary and I a ride to the vikram connection because we left later than usual. It was cool. It was Mary's first time on a scooter/motorbike and it was exciting for the both of us. The lack of containing walls between us and the night air was somehow surreal, and that this vehicle had shocks made it feel like we were riding on a cloud. The ride was too short and it was time for us to catch the vikram home.
We got a chance to go yesterday morning to the main post office in D. Dun, near the Clocktower. Getting there was half the fun because I got to barter with the A. Rich drivers. The first one drove up to us and this was the conversation that followed:
ME: Clocktower?
DRIVER1: Okay.
ME: How much?
DRIVER1: 70
ME: 40
DRIVER1: 70
ME: 40
DRIVER1: 70
ME: ok, jao-go. (waved him off)
Another driver pulls right up as this one was leaving.
ME: Clocktower?
DRIVER2: (nod)
ME: how much?
DRIVER2: 80.
ME: 40.
DRIVER2: 80.
ME: 40.
DRIVER2: 60.
ME: 40.
DRIVER2: 60
ME: No. Go. (wave off and look back for another.)
DRIVER2: Teek hai.
ME: 40?
DRIVER2: Teek hai.
ME: (to Mary) Let's go!
It was really fun. And I find that I enjoy bartering a lot. There is a total sense of accomplishment when you talk your way down to the actual price. Soniya, Aunty's daughter, had told us that from home to the Clocktower it should never cost more than 40 rps. So that is why I insisted on 40.
He drove us to the Clocktower area. We paid him and crossed the street to the big white building that was the post office. When we got inside we immediately were not sure about what to do or where to go. From wall to wall there was a wooden counter with a glass divider. There were about 12-14 desk partitions at this long counter, all designated for something - all written in Hindi. I looked to the left and saw a semi-circular counter in the corner that looked like an info desk (but wasn't). I approached the guy and asked him where I would find stamps. I showed him the postcards and he looked at them, and pointed to the other counter at the far end of the building - we went and I approached that counter too and waited for the lady's attention. Just so that it is clear - where ever there was a person behind a counter - people were swarming. The lady looked and me and I said that I wanted stamps. I showed her the postcards and she asked how many there were. I said 9. At 15 rps a piece I paid 135 rps in all. Then I asked her where I was supposed to take them next. She pointed to the general direction of the 12-14 tellers. I chose one of the emptier tellers and started there. I got sent to 3 different places until I finally just went up to another empty one with a girl who luckily spoke English. She took the postcards, stamped them and put them in the out-going box. I thanked her a few times and we left in high spirits.
The whole experience wasn't too difficult, it was just confusing and a little bit trying as, just like with the roads outside, lines were a construct of a foreigner's imagination. People just go around you to the front if you don't join in on the dog pile. People are too busy, it seems, to bother with useless things like the European construct of 'proper etiquette' in a public place. I would be very interested in seeing which system - order, or controlled chaos - works more efficiently. I don't know, the way things work here just makes more sense to me. Order and lines can drive a person crazy - always waiting, waiting; just being a sheep. Here, you go more or less where you want, and if you see someone coming your way you both just move to the left. So simple. So effective. This seems to be the rule of life here - just move to the left. Why do we make things more complicated than they need to be?
For the most part nothing else special happened yesterday that stands out to me. I did ride on a scooter at night. Dr. Nanda gave Mary and I a ride to the vikram connection because we left later than usual. It was cool. It was Mary's first time on a scooter/motorbike and it was exciting for the both of us. The lack of containing walls between us and the night air was somehow surreal, and that this vehicle had shocks made it feel like we were riding on a cloud. The ride was too short and it was time for us to catch the vikram home.
7.20.11. 4:30 PM. Day 19. Bringing People Together.
I'm getting tired of talking about this girl so I am going to keep this story as short as I can.
Mati came to talk to us after our meeting with Dr. Prem Nath while Pompous Ass went to the seamstress boutique, Seema's, right next door. Mati basically just let out all of her frustration and pent up grief to us in about 20 minutes. We felt so bad for her, it seems that not only is Pompous Ass her namesake everywhere but she also manipulates Mati into doing things and going places she doesn't even want to. Mati desperately wanted to get away from her - even if only for a while. So we suggested that she ask Mayank if she could be switched to Dr. Nisha Gera during the 6-8 time slot. She asked, he said yes. She was excited. She went to tell PA that she would be going. PA responded - ok, see you at the homestay. Mary and I came to terms with the fact that we would be stuck with PA, but then it would be a relief for Mati. We even began to look forward to our encounters with PA especially since Mati told us that PA cried for an hour the night before because of me. What ever vile thing I said... Mati apparently told her that maybe I had a point, and then she was accused of not supporting PA. So much drama.
We went to Dr. Nanda's office and sat with him and the boys for over half an hour before declaring her a no-show. We feared that she followed Mati to Dr. Gera's anyway. We and the boys vented about her some more and when D. Nanda came back to his desk I apologized for our ranting during clinic time. He sat down, smiled, waved it off and said, "No, no - keep going." We all laughed and realized that he felt the same as we did. He would even refer to her as "the great doctor." If the Pompous Ass knows how to do one thing well -it's bringing people together.
Mati came to talk to us after our meeting with Dr. Prem Nath while Pompous Ass went to the seamstress boutique, Seema's, right next door. Mati basically just let out all of her frustration and pent up grief to us in about 20 minutes. We felt so bad for her, it seems that not only is Pompous Ass her namesake everywhere but she also manipulates Mati into doing things and going places she doesn't even want to. Mati desperately wanted to get away from her - even if only for a while. So we suggested that she ask Mayank if she could be switched to Dr. Nisha Gera during the 6-8 time slot. She asked, he said yes. She was excited. She went to tell PA that she would be going. PA responded - ok, see you at the homestay. Mary and I came to terms with the fact that we would be stuck with PA, but then it would be a relief for Mati. We even began to look forward to our encounters with PA especially since Mati told us that PA cried for an hour the night before because of me. What ever vile thing I said... Mati apparently told her that maybe I had a point, and then she was accused of not supporting PA. So much drama.
We went to Dr. Nanda's office and sat with him and the boys for over half an hour before declaring her a no-show. We feared that she followed Mati to Dr. Gera's anyway. We and the boys vented about her some more and when D. Nanda came back to his desk I apologized for our ranting during clinic time. He sat down, smiled, waved it off and said, "No, no - keep going." We all laughed and realized that he felt the same as we did. He would even refer to her as "the great doctor." If the Pompous Ass knows how to do one thing well -it's bringing people together.
7.19.11. 2:09PM. Day 18. American Idiot.
Yesterday was an interesting day. We were to begin our rotation with Dr. Sanjay Gandhi. We had heard quite a few stories about him, none of which were positive. People had said that he ignored them, would show up late, and would only give them one word answers, or just very short. People had built up such a hype about him and his pompous ways that we were completely ready to hate him.
We looked at our schedules and we had him bright and early at 10AM. We thought Mayank would come to guide us again, but it was nearing 9:15 so we decided to head out on our own. We figured he had other people to deal with and probably felt that we could handle it solo. We misread the map and once again got lost. At 9:50 we called Mayank so that he could hopefully dictate to us how to get to the hospital. He spoke to Mary and according to him we were not supposed to start until noon. We were hot, sweaty, and flabbergasted. He was soon forgiven because he said he would meet us at a nearby coffee shop, Cafe Coffee Day, in a little while to help us get to Dr. Gandhi's.
Sure enough, true to something Mayank would pick out, Cafe Coffee Day was this swanky step-above Starbucks looking place. Since their ice machine was apparently broken and neither of us wanted caffeine we both got some yummy hot chocolate. Maybe 10 minutes after we arrived, Sunny, Mayank's fairly amazingly good looking, studmuffin of a right hand man, walked through the door.
He came and sat with us (next to me) and waited with us for Mayank to appear. Talking was slow as it seemed we were both quiet people. He added Mary and I to Facebook, and eventually I asked him his age, since Mary and I were talking about age brackets. He said he was 17. Ugh. Jailbait. We had to laugh because Mary pointed out that she was a whole 10 years older than him. He also told up that he was about to start med school in one month in Hyderabad - in the south of India. Mary and I both agreed, later on, that who ever gets this one will be a very lucky girl indeed. Beautiful babies. Sigh - just kidding. Mayank came and we all hang out and talked until it was closer to 12.
When we got up to leave we saw that it was raining at about a moderate pace. No vikrams were about so Mayank offered for one of us to go with Sunny on his motorcycle. Guess which one of us jumped on that band wagon! It was awesome. I was nervous for a while but not scared. I couldn't help but feel that this could have been straight out of a bollywood film - hot guy takes girl on the back of his bike, in the rain, zooming toward the hospital...I just waited for the music and dancing to start. Sadly, the ride was soon over and we stood at the hospital waiting for the other two to arrive. When they got there, Mary came and stood with us while Mayank went to talk to Dr. Gandhi. After a while he came to get us and brought us into the doctor's office.
In a nutshell, after just 1.5 hours with Dr. Gandhi, we completely retracted our previous fears and preconceptions about him. He was....kind of amazing. He was funny, and friendly, and very much brought us into the consultations as much as possible. We'd decided afterward that it must have been both the attitudes and expectations of the other students that ultimately led them to think so poorly of him. I related a lot to him. I could see that he, too, was a soft-spoken, quiet person. This often makes people think we are pompous, stuck up, or unreachable. But he was charming and playful. I noticed this when amongst the hustle and bustle of his office, his wife came in and he was so formal with her, but had a twinkle in his eye that showed he was just being playful. It was quite apparent that his patients not only revered him, bowing and such, but they also liked him. He made them laugh and smile even through their pain. He's great. I approve.
We left his office in high spirits and were thoroughly pleased to change our opinions about him. He's the medical director of the program here, after all, there had to be some good in him. Yes, he is full of subtlety, but I wish the other groups could have seen him the way we saw him.
The rest of the day had a downside with a strong dash of upside. Barely mentioned in the beginning, the Globe Trekkers have left quite a wake after every rotation they've done. Either from the other students, during the weekly meetings, or from the doctors themselves, these girls had left quite an impression on everyone. Just as a warning - this may just be the biggest rant about a person I will have in this journal - so brace yourself.
This week we were supposed to deal with them for two back to back classes for 5 days. That would equal a whole 10 sessions, 20 some odd hours of having to interact with them. Mary and I decided before going to Dr. Prem Nath's that we would try to give the girls a chance instead of just the hearsay like with what happened with Dr. Gandhi. We walked in and found Pompous Ass #1 sitting alone with Dr. Prem Nath at the table. I soon found out that #2 was in the bathroom. We sat down and had small talk with PA#1. She asked us how our trip has been so far and when we said that we absolutely had a fantabulous time - she gave us a quick look and a completely ingenuine smile, "Oh, us too..." The other one came back and we began class. The class itself was fairly uneventful, though it became apparent that #1's pompousness was completely real and not just hearsay. Overall, #2 was quiet and seemed completely overshadowed by the ego-eclipse that was #1.
The week before, Dr. Prem Nath would always continue to lecture for half an hour after our time was over. We were always eager for more so we never minded staying longer and then we even got to expect it everyday. This week, however, he decided to stop abruptly at 5PM. Mary and I only saw one factor change in the whole situation and that was the presence of #1 and #2 - mostly #1. Mary and I were off to Dr. Nanda's. I'd wondered if we were going to share a vikram or something since we would have the next clinic with them too. But they went somewhere and we got a vikram by ourselves. We got there 20 minutes early and so decided to go to the sweets shop across the street, Kumar's Sweets, to try some Indian yummies. We spent some time there and then five minutes to 6 we crossed the road and waited on Dr. Nanda's stoop for him to arrive. While we were waiting, some other people from our program, the boys from Georgia who were on the train with me, walked up the ally. I was confused because I thought there were only supposed to be 4 of us here, which was already 2 too many. The boys said that their doctor canceled so they were reassigned to Dr. Nanda.
Dr. Nanda came and opened up the clinic. We added another bench inside the already crowded office. No patients showed up yet, but the girls showed up almost 20 minutes late. They'd apparently gone shopping and had lost track of time. The shopping must have been more important than food because Pompous Ass #1 basically put her stuff down and declared that she was going out for food. Not even 1 minute into her already late being there and she was already disrespecting the doctor's time. By the time the little princess came back, there was a patient in the room. She plopped herself in a chair and , fairly loudly, demanded patient symptoms. Right off the bat she acted like she was a full blown doctor, where in reality she was just a first year med student - like half of the people here. She kept on trying to diagnose a problem and prescribe a solution even though Dr. Nanda had already done all of that. Every time a patient came, this same upchuck of uselessness and disrespect would occur. She was constantly undermining the decisions of Dr. Nanda. It became quite apparent that she believed absolutely nothing about Homeopathy because she kept inserting her wanting to refer every single patient to a western specialist of whatever problem it was. It was not only this complete and utter disrespect of all parties involved, but there was also the blatantly obvious fact that she was embarrassing herself every time she opened her mouth. First of all, she wore a bindi (the dot) on her forehead. She has no idea what it's for but since some nice lady on the train gave her one on the first day, she has been wearing them ever since. One lady pointed to it and laughed. #1 said, "oh my bindi! Do you like it? Haha." And then every time anyone would walk in she would put her hands together and sing-song "NAMASTEEEEE." Most of the time people would just giver her a weak reply or jsut acknowledge her with a who-are-you glance. SOme would smile and respond. But then if somebody ignored her completely, she would, "Na, nam, na, Namaste" every time she thought he or she would look her way. The rest of us didn't speak much, but we would smile quietly and the people would usually do it back. It was intimidating enough to have 6 extra strangers in the room while you're at the doctor's. It must have been overwhelming for them to have Ms. Can't-Shut-Her-Mouth-For-One-Second in their faces too.
My annoyance of this one person pompous ass circus festered and boiled until finally she scratched the scab one too many times and I let my venom ooze out. She kept going on and on and on and on about how this one patient (who was still sitting there) should go get Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for his panic attacks. "It worked for me," is what she kept saying. The doctor had already prescribed the man a medicine (a placebo) because his eventual goal was to get the man off of his meds all together. Mary tried to point out her her than CBT is probably not available here and even if it is, this man probably couldn't afford it - as is why he was at the office of a homeopath to begin with. Her response to that was to tell Dr. Nanda that he should teach himself some CBT so that he could do it to his patients. At this point I'd had enough. I pointed out the total unethicalness of that statement, saying that she just told him to do the equivalent of me picking up a book about medicine and then practicing on people.
She said, "Well, we self teach all the time."
I said, "No, no you don't."
HER: I'm sorry, do you have an issue with how I'm doing this?
ME: Yes. You are being rude and disrespectful.
HER: This is a preceptorship and I'm just asking questions.
ME: No. You've been rude and argumentative in front of patients.
HER: I have great repore with the patients, they like me.
ME: (smile) right....
HER: If my way offends you, I can stop.
ME: (smile).
After that she didn't say much. She would wait until the patient was leaving to ask the doctor. Good. My anger still boiled, but I let it go and simmer down. By the end of the night she stopped talking so much and so I had nothing else to say. We all left and were waiting by the street to hail vikrams home. She came up behind me.
HER: Hey, I just want to clear the air. I feel like you are upset with me and that there is tension.
ME: (wait).
HER: I don't know if you've ever done a preceptorship before, but you're supposed to have a dialog with the doctor.
ME: No I haven't, but you were arguing and were rude.
HER: No I wasn't. In America this is how we interact with doctors and patients. We're supposed to talk to the patients. I just want you to know that because I don't want tension.
ME: I've said my piece.
HER: I'm feeling tension.
ME: I've said all I've needed to say.
HER: I didn't do anything wrong.
ME: OKay. (blank stare).
HER: I just want everything all right so we can work together. You still seem angry. Do I need to explain more? Do you want to say something?
ME: I've said all I need to say.
HER: Okay...well I hope we're okay then.
ME: (smile).
Our groups parted ways and Mary and I decided to walk to the vikram connection since we both had much needed venting to do. It basically consisted of us pointing out how she is the embodiment of every thing negative perceived of Americans. She's loud, argumentative, opinionated, and doesn't seem to be able to pick up on physical cues - subtle or otherwise. A few major points to bring to light are as follows: First off, when she said that "this is how we do it in America." I said (to Mary), "That's great, but we're in India." Things are not the same here. Yes these are preceptors, but their clinics are not teaching hospitals. The patients did not know that you would be there before they got there. We are here, as stated in the program guide, to observe different kinds of medicine - not practice playing doctor in some other country. We have found that if you sit quietly during the visit of a patient, the doctors are more than happy to answer any questions before the next one arrives. Plus, it is more respectful of the doctor/patient relationship. Diplomacy can go a lot farther than dictatorship. Secondly, she said that the patients like her. No they don't. She made a few nervous, and just amused the rest of them. They plainly made fun of her "silly Americanness" and her ego took it as being complimented. Her behavior was more embarrassing for us, as she reflected negatively the image of Americans. And the whole fact that she thinks she's not doing anything wrong - is what I feel is the worst. This is why I did not allow the argument to escalate - I could have let it all out and let her have it. But no, I know better than to argue with concrete. Once it sets - there's no making it change its form.
We'd talked about it, and agreed that we were wrong about #2. Her name is Mati (Mathilde - French Canadian) and she was just placed with a bad partner and the stigma stuck to her too. We felt so bad for her. She'd made it quite clear to us during clinic that she wanted to go off with us without the dead weight she was burdened with. We desperately wanted to reach out to her, but our schedules conflicted so we couldn't really get some alone time with her. We went home and told Aunty all about it.
We looked at our schedules and we had him bright and early at 10AM. We thought Mayank would come to guide us again, but it was nearing 9:15 so we decided to head out on our own. We figured he had other people to deal with and probably felt that we could handle it solo. We misread the map and once again got lost. At 9:50 we called Mayank so that he could hopefully dictate to us how to get to the hospital. He spoke to Mary and according to him we were not supposed to start until noon. We were hot, sweaty, and flabbergasted. He was soon forgiven because he said he would meet us at a nearby coffee shop, Cafe Coffee Day, in a little while to help us get to Dr. Gandhi's.
Sure enough, true to something Mayank would pick out, Cafe Coffee Day was this swanky step-above Starbucks looking place. Since their ice machine was apparently broken and neither of us wanted caffeine we both got some yummy hot chocolate. Maybe 10 minutes after we arrived, Sunny, Mayank's fairly amazingly good looking, studmuffin of a right hand man, walked through the door.
In a nutshell, after just 1.5 hours with Dr. Gandhi, we completely retracted our previous fears and preconceptions about him. He was....kind of amazing. He was funny, and friendly, and very much brought us into the consultations as much as possible. We'd decided afterward that it must have been both the attitudes and expectations of the other students that ultimately led them to think so poorly of him. I related a lot to him. I could see that he, too, was a soft-spoken, quiet person. This often makes people think we are pompous, stuck up, or unreachable. But he was charming and playful. I noticed this when amongst the hustle and bustle of his office, his wife came in and he was so formal with her, but had a twinkle in his eye that showed he was just being playful. It was quite apparent that his patients not only revered him, bowing and such, but they also liked him. He made them laugh and smile even through their pain. He's great. I approve.
We left his office in high spirits and were thoroughly pleased to change our opinions about him. He's the medical director of the program here, after all, there had to be some good in him. Yes, he is full of subtlety, but I wish the other groups could have seen him the way we saw him.
The rest of the day had a downside with a strong dash of upside. Barely mentioned in the beginning, the Globe Trekkers have left quite a wake after every rotation they've done. Either from the other students, during the weekly meetings, or from the doctors themselves, these girls had left quite an impression on everyone. Just as a warning - this may just be the biggest rant about a person I will have in this journal - so brace yourself.
This week we were supposed to deal with them for two back to back classes for 5 days. That would equal a whole 10 sessions, 20 some odd hours of having to interact with them. Mary and I decided before going to Dr. Prem Nath's that we would try to give the girls a chance instead of just the hearsay like with what happened with Dr. Gandhi. We walked in and found Pompous Ass #1 sitting alone with Dr. Prem Nath at the table. I soon found out that #2 was in the bathroom. We sat down and had small talk with PA#1. She asked us how our trip has been so far and when we said that we absolutely had a fantabulous time - she gave us a quick look and a completely ingenuine smile, "Oh, us too..." The other one came back and we began class. The class itself was fairly uneventful, though it became apparent that #1's pompousness was completely real and not just hearsay. Overall, #2 was quiet and seemed completely overshadowed by the ego-eclipse that was #1.
The week before, Dr. Prem Nath would always continue to lecture for half an hour after our time was over. We were always eager for more so we never minded staying longer and then we even got to expect it everyday. This week, however, he decided to stop abruptly at 5PM. Mary and I only saw one factor change in the whole situation and that was the presence of #1 and #2 - mostly #1. Mary and I were off to Dr. Nanda's. I'd wondered if we were going to share a vikram or something since we would have the next clinic with them too. But they went somewhere and we got a vikram by ourselves. We got there 20 minutes early and so decided to go to the sweets shop across the street, Kumar's Sweets, to try some Indian yummies. We spent some time there and then five minutes to 6 we crossed the road and waited on Dr. Nanda's stoop for him to arrive. While we were waiting, some other people from our program, the boys from Georgia who were on the train with me, walked up the ally. I was confused because I thought there were only supposed to be 4 of us here, which was already 2 too many. The boys said that their doctor canceled so they were reassigned to Dr. Nanda.
Dr. Nanda came and opened up the clinic. We added another bench inside the already crowded office. No patients showed up yet, but the girls showed up almost 20 minutes late. They'd apparently gone shopping and had lost track of time. The shopping must have been more important than food because Pompous Ass #1 basically put her stuff down and declared that she was going out for food. Not even 1 minute into her already late being there and she was already disrespecting the doctor's time. By the time the little princess came back, there was a patient in the room. She plopped herself in a chair and , fairly loudly, demanded patient symptoms. Right off the bat she acted like she was a full blown doctor, where in reality she was just a first year med student - like half of the people here. She kept on trying to diagnose a problem and prescribe a solution even though Dr. Nanda had already done all of that. Every time a patient came, this same upchuck of uselessness and disrespect would occur. She was constantly undermining the decisions of Dr. Nanda. It became quite apparent that she believed absolutely nothing about Homeopathy because she kept inserting her wanting to refer every single patient to a western specialist of whatever problem it was. It was not only this complete and utter disrespect of all parties involved, but there was also the blatantly obvious fact that she was embarrassing herself every time she opened her mouth. First of all, she wore a bindi (the dot) on her forehead. She has no idea what it's for but since some nice lady on the train gave her one on the first day, she has been wearing them ever since. One lady pointed to it and laughed. #1 said, "oh my bindi! Do you like it? Haha." And then every time anyone would walk in she would put her hands together and sing-song "NAMASTEEEEE." Most of the time people would just giver her a weak reply or jsut acknowledge her with a who-are-you glance. SOme would smile and respond. But then if somebody ignored her completely, she would, "Na, nam, na, Namaste" every time she thought he or she would look her way. The rest of us didn't speak much, but we would smile quietly and the people would usually do it back. It was intimidating enough to have 6 extra strangers in the room while you're at the doctor's. It must have been overwhelming for them to have Ms. Can't-Shut-Her-Mouth-For-One-Second in their faces too.
My annoyance of this one person pompous ass circus festered and boiled until finally she scratched the scab one too many times and I let my venom ooze out. She kept going on and on and on and on about how this one patient (who was still sitting there) should go get Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for his panic attacks. "It worked for me," is what she kept saying. The doctor had already prescribed the man a medicine (a placebo) because his eventual goal was to get the man off of his meds all together. Mary tried to point out her her than CBT is probably not available here and even if it is, this man probably couldn't afford it - as is why he was at the office of a homeopath to begin with. Her response to that was to tell Dr. Nanda that he should teach himself some CBT so that he could do it to his patients. At this point I'd had enough. I pointed out the total unethicalness of that statement, saying that she just told him to do the equivalent of me picking up a book about medicine and then practicing on people.
She said, "Well, we self teach all the time."
I said, "No, no you don't."
HER: I'm sorry, do you have an issue with how I'm doing this?
ME: Yes. You are being rude and disrespectful.
HER: This is a preceptorship and I'm just asking questions.
ME: No. You've been rude and argumentative in front of patients.
HER: I have great repore with the patients, they like me.
ME: (smile) right....
HER: If my way offends you, I can stop.
ME: (smile).
After that she didn't say much. She would wait until the patient was leaving to ask the doctor. Good. My anger still boiled, but I let it go and simmer down. By the end of the night she stopped talking so much and so I had nothing else to say. We all left and were waiting by the street to hail vikrams home. She came up behind me.
HER: Hey, I just want to clear the air. I feel like you are upset with me and that there is tension.
ME: (wait).
HER: I don't know if you've ever done a preceptorship before, but you're supposed to have a dialog with the doctor.
ME: No I haven't, but you were arguing and were rude.
HER: No I wasn't. In America this is how we interact with doctors and patients. We're supposed to talk to the patients. I just want you to know that because I don't want tension.
ME: I've said my piece.
HER: I'm feeling tension.
ME: I've said all I've needed to say.
HER: I didn't do anything wrong.
ME: OKay. (blank stare).
HER: I just want everything all right so we can work together. You still seem angry. Do I need to explain more? Do you want to say something?
ME: I've said all I need to say.
HER: Okay...well I hope we're okay then.
ME: (smile).
Our groups parted ways and Mary and I decided to walk to the vikram connection since we both had much needed venting to do. It basically consisted of us pointing out how she is the embodiment of every thing negative perceived of Americans. She's loud, argumentative, opinionated, and doesn't seem to be able to pick up on physical cues - subtle or otherwise. A few major points to bring to light are as follows: First off, when she said that "this is how we do it in America." I said (to Mary), "That's great, but we're in India." Things are not the same here. Yes these are preceptors, but their clinics are not teaching hospitals. The patients did not know that you would be there before they got there. We are here, as stated in the program guide, to observe different kinds of medicine - not practice playing doctor in some other country. We have found that if you sit quietly during the visit of a patient, the doctors are more than happy to answer any questions before the next one arrives. Plus, it is more respectful of the doctor/patient relationship. Diplomacy can go a lot farther than dictatorship. Secondly, she said that the patients like her. No they don't. She made a few nervous, and just amused the rest of them. They plainly made fun of her "silly Americanness" and her ego took it as being complimented. Her behavior was more embarrassing for us, as she reflected negatively the image of Americans. And the whole fact that she thinks she's not doing anything wrong - is what I feel is the worst. This is why I did not allow the argument to escalate - I could have let it all out and let her have it. But no, I know better than to argue with concrete. Once it sets - there's no making it change its form.
We'd talked about it, and agreed that we were wrong about #2. Her name is Mati (Mathilde - French Canadian) and she was just placed with a bad partner and the stigma stuck to her too. We felt so bad for her. She'd made it quite clear to us during clinic that she wanted to go off with us without the dead weight she was burdened with. We desperately wanted to reach out to her, but our schedules conflicted so we couldn't really get some alone time with her. We went home and told Aunty all about it.
Friday, August 5, 2011
7.17.11. 3:03PM. Day 16. The Taming of the Agra.
We left Friday night. Five of us, Mary, Rayleen, Maggie, Christian, and myself all packed in fairly comfortably into the same car, with the same driver, we had the previous weekend. The plan was to leave late on Friday night, drive through the night and arrive Saturday morning. A 10ish hour drive. We had been thinking to spend the night in Agra and come back Sunday morning but then Mayank said, "why would you spend the night and pay for a hotel? Just drive back Saturday night and be home by morning." I liked that idea. Why pay to sleep when we could sleep in the car and be heading back at the same time? So that was that, none of us planned on staying.
Ours was the original group who wanted to go this weekend but then three more girls wanted to go not even 4 hours before we were supposed to leave. There was a frustrating moment because 5 was a reasonably comfortable number in our car because we still had our bags to bring. Now 3 more wanted in. Luckily Mayank said no to them coming in our car. They rented another car and we ended up caravaning the whole way there.
Our driver is a good man. Quiet, but is very helpful and is always looking out for us; he is a saint compared to the driver of the other car. The other driver is a small, nippy fellow who is basically the tough little dog if compared to our bigger, mellower Great Dane. He got us lost'ish twice until our guy took the lead and never gave it back. When we finally reached the parking lot to the Taj Mahal (Ahhhhhhhhhh!) the two drivers spoke for a while and then ours said that he wouldn't be driving back that night. We were at a loss for words, and ended up calling Mayank to have him talk on our behalf. We could see the little dog wag his finger and shake his head at our driver when he was on the phone. It seems like he was the instigator behind all of this. His group was going to spend the night because they were going to go to Jaipur in the morning. He must have told our driver that he should spend the night too. We went back and forth on the phone with Mayank, and what was annoying was that the little dog would be the one to come get the phone and talk to Mayank before he would hand the phone to our guy. Mayank said that our driver was very tired. We said that he could go sleep if he wanted, we would just make our way around on our own and we were planning on spending most of the day in Agra, so he could go sleep if he wanted. In the end we had to buy a room for him to sleep. It was about 8:30AM and the plan was to meet up with him at 6PM at the same place he dropped us off. Little dog was defeated, our guy got to rest, and we would get to go back home that same night.
We were at the Taj Mahal! Well, the parking lot anyway, but we got to take a camel pulled carriage ride to the entrance.
The tickets for the Taj cost 15 rps for Indians and 750 rsp for foreigners.
The girls tried to get me to see if I could get away with passing but I declined. My major lack of language skills is the only thing holding me back from apparently being indistinguishable from the real deal. I paid the 750, totally worth every cent to see the Taj Mahal. Understandably, we had to go through security in order to get in. This was an amusing scene because in a very old building there were metal detectors that we all had to pass through. People were split into lines of men and women, and each had to step through the metal detectors, which weren't even on, and were patted down loosely by guards of the same gender.
That was all there was by way of security.
We walked into a fairly large courtyard where we saw that were actually three entrances, on the South, West, and North sides. The east side was were the Taj was on the other side of a grand archway. At the center of the archway the Taj Mahal was perfectly visible inside the silhouette of the archway's walls. There it was. The Taj Mahal. Just like in the post cards. It was as if it were a painted backdrop on a beautifl and grand landscape. I am trying my best to describe something that leaves me with a complete loss for words. Unbelievable. It was a cloudy day so the pictures might not have captured it.
Nor do I think they could have anyway. I totally played my tourist card and went to town taking pictures from every angle and ones of us doing silly poses and the ones where we act like we are holding up the Taj by its point.
It became quickly apparent that people were taking more pictures and videos of my whities than normal. It is quite possible that this is because they are touristing it up too so cameras were with them at all times. Since the Taj is completely symmetrical, I got pictures from every angle rather quickly. I decided to start taking pictures of the people taking pictures of my whities. It got to be pretty fun. Often times, they smiled and posed. Other times it became evident they thought they were being stealthier than they obviously were.
We had given our driver a good 8hr window to get his much needed sleep so we really had plenty of time to be leisurely and enjoy the environment. After about 3 hours at the Taj Mahal we all began to realize just how hungry we were since we had not eaten since dinner the night before. We hired an A. Rick, somehow fitting 6 people in an, at most, 4 people vehicle, and made our way to find some food. Mayank had recommended one place and one place only to eat at while in Agra. "The best place in town," is more or less how he put it. So, after about 10 minutes or so we arrived at a very upper class, swanky establishment. Pizza Hut, in India, is at about an equal standing with such eateries as California Pizza Kitchen or BJ's. Compared to how Pizza Hut is at home, this was basically a 5 star restaurant.
Again, as in Orchard, I noted the types of people who came to eat here. Lots of foreigners and upper class Indians. I couldn't help but wonder how many of the people here thought that this is how this supposedly American restaurant chain is on its own home turf. They even had the delivery bikes. We got the 6 people meal deal, which fed us all quite nicely. It was an interesting experience, and pretty darn good food too. After this we killed some more time at the coffee shop next door, digesting in the A.C. I got a hot chocolate. We chatted for 20 or so minutes and made the plan to go to the Red Fort (Agra Fort) where Shah Jahan (guy who commissioned the Taj Mahal to be built was a tribute to his dead wife) was imprisoned by his bad-seed of a son, so that he could only just have a distant view of the Taj through a small window until the day he died. He was then entombed next to his wife in the mausoleum within the Taj. Sad story - romantic though. So we went there.
The Taj Mahal was the kind of prettier, sweeter, younger sister to the Red Fort. It had a beautiful structure and was fun for a little while, and most of it was off limits. The Red Fort was that shrewish older sister, with a nasty reputation, who once you go through the first few rough layers turned out to be quite a magnificent creature in and of itself. I found that here there were more stairs and ruins to climb, dark tunnels and rooms to run scared from (bats), and some very gorgeous architecture in the innermost parts of the massive compound.
We spent another 3 hrs here. I took lots of pictures, and again of people taking them of us. We saw all that we could and then made our way back towards the Taj because Mary and Maggie wanted to get some souvenirs. After an hour of shopping, we went back to the parking lot, found our driver, and began our 10 hr trek back to D. Dun.
The 10 hour journey ended up taking about 13 hours because we got two flat tires along the way. Our driver was awesome because he noticed before the first tire got dangerously low. He pulled over randomly and stopped in front of what was apparently a house. A whole family was sitting our front with the family dog enjoying the night's cool. When they saw us pull up, get out, and start changing the tire the men came over and one began to help while the other two insisted that the rest of us go over and sit with the family. Since Maggie and I had nothing in our hands to show that we should stay by the car, we obliged. We began walking toward the chairs in front of the house, and even though I saw it, one of the men grabbed my hand to lead me away from the big pile of cow poop in my path. He let go after we passed it. They had us sit. One of the women brought us water in open cups. We tried to tell them that we weren't allowed to drink it, but they claimed it was "mineral" water which I guess was equivalent to "clean." When we didn't drink, they insisted so I took a sip. It tasted fine. I took another, this seemed to satisfy them for awhile. Maggie refused to trust steamed rice, so she sat statue -still and basically shut down. They were very friendly and joyfully conversed with us about our travels so far. The man who helped me over the cow poop sat close to me and seemed more interested in me than in Maggie - which was something I was not used to. THis guy seemed to be in his mid to late 20s. His younger sister, late teens, early 20s, told me how Indian I looked (the 4th time someone told me this that afternoon). The guy said that he has a sister and a brother-in-law in San Francisco. That was cool. After about 20 minutes our driver motioned that they were done. Maggie and I got up to leave, and we said our thank yous and goodbyes. Maggie turned and walked off quicker, but i was only a few steps behind. The same guy as before came up to me and walked me to the car. On the way he took my hand again to shake it but then he held on and kissed it...I thought it weird but not much more until he did it a second time. We reached the car and as I tried to get inside he came in for a hug, hand around my waist, and then tried to kiss me. Before he could, I pushed him away. He smiled and tried again, and this time I pushed more forcefully, said, " NO!" firmly, got into the car, locked the door, and never looked back. I guess I was in shock for a little while. I didn't say anything until we again pulled over at a tire store to get another tire. After I told the others and they just found it amusing - saying that he just wanted to make me his bride or something. No thank you. I was just as bothered by the fact that the guy tried to make a move on me right in front of his family. But what ever, the farther we drove the better I felt.
At some point a few hours later we got the second flat tire and this time the driver changed it on his own. Uneventful - good. We eventually made it back home safe, sound, tired as all hell. We'd had a crazy-amazing time, but now only wanted sleep.
Ours was the original group who wanted to go this weekend but then three more girls wanted to go not even 4 hours before we were supposed to leave. There was a frustrating moment because 5 was a reasonably comfortable number in our car because we still had our bags to bring. Now 3 more wanted in. Luckily Mayank said no to them coming in our car. They rented another car and we ended up caravaning the whole way there.
Our driver is a good man. Quiet, but is very helpful and is always looking out for us; he is a saint compared to the driver of the other car. The other driver is a small, nippy fellow who is basically the tough little dog if compared to our bigger, mellower Great Dane. He got us lost'ish twice until our guy took the lead and never gave it back. When we finally reached the parking lot to the Taj Mahal (Ahhhhhhhhhh!) the two drivers spoke for a while and then ours said that he wouldn't be driving back that night. We were at a loss for words, and ended up calling Mayank to have him talk on our behalf. We could see the little dog wag his finger and shake his head at our driver when he was on the phone. It seems like he was the instigator behind all of this. His group was going to spend the night because they were going to go to Jaipur in the morning. He must have told our driver that he should spend the night too. We went back and forth on the phone with Mayank, and what was annoying was that the little dog would be the one to come get the phone and talk to Mayank before he would hand the phone to our guy. Mayank said that our driver was very tired. We said that he could go sleep if he wanted, we would just make our way around on our own and we were planning on spending most of the day in Agra, so he could go sleep if he wanted. In the end we had to buy a room for him to sleep. It was about 8:30AM and the plan was to meet up with him at 6PM at the same place he dropped us off. Little dog was defeated, our guy got to rest, and we would get to go back home that same night.
We were at the Taj Mahal! Well, the parking lot anyway, but we got to take a camel pulled carriage ride to the entrance.
The tickets for the Taj cost 15 rps for Indians and 750 rsp for foreigners.
We walked into a fairly large courtyard where we saw that were actually three entrances, on the South, West, and North sides. The east side was were the Taj was on the other side of a grand archway. At the center of the archway the Taj Mahal was perfectly visible inside the silhouette of the archway's walls. There it was. The Taj Mahal. Just like in the post cards. It was as if it were a painted backdrop on a beautifl and grand landscape. I am trying my best to describe something that leaves me with a complete loss for words. Unbelievable. It was a cloudy day so the pictures might not have captured it.
We had given our driver a good 8hr window to get his much needed sleep so we really had plenty of time to be leisurely and enjoy the environment. After about 3 hours at the Taj Mahal we all began to realize just how hungry we were since we had not eaten since dinner the night before. We hired an A. Rick, somehow fitting 6 people in an, at most, 4 people vehicle, and made our way to find some food. Mayank had recommended one place and one place only to eat at while in Agra. "The best place in town," is more or less how he put it. So, after about 10 minutes or so we arrived at a very upper class, swanky establishment. Pizza Hut, in India, is at about an equal standing with such eateries as California Pizza Kitchen or BJ's. Compared to how Pizza Hut is at home, this was basically a 5 star restaurant.
Again, as in Orchard, I noted the types of people who came to eat here. Lots of foreigners and upper class Indians. I couldn't help but wonder how many of the people here thought that this is how this supposedly American restaurant chain is on its own home turf. They even had the delivery bikes. We got the 6 people meal deal, which fed us all quite nicely. It was an interesting experience, and pretty darn good food too. After this we killed some more time at the coffee shop next door, digesting in the A.C. I got a hot chocolate. We chatted for 20 or so minutes and made the plan to go to the Red Fort (Agra Fort) where Shah Jahan (guy who commissioned the Taj Mahal to be built was a tribute to his dead wife) was imprisoned by his bad-seed of a son, so that he could only just have a distant view of the Taj through a small window until the day he died. He was then entombed next to his wife in the mausoleum within the Taj. Sad story - romantic though. So we went there.
The Taj Mahal was the kind of prettier, sweeter, younger sister to the Red Fort. It had a beautiful structure and was fun for a little while, and most of it was off limits. The Red Fort was that shrewish older sister, with a nasty reputation, who once you go through the first few rough layers turned out to be quite a magnificent creature in and of itself. I found that here there were more stairs and ruins to climb, dark tunnels and rooms to run scared from (bats), and some very gorgeous architecture in the innermost parts of the massive compound.
The 10 hour journey ended up taking about 13 hours because we got two flat tires along the way. Our driver was awesome because he noticed before the first tire got dangerously low. He pulled over randomly and stopped in front of what was apparently a house. A whole family was sitting our front with the family dog enjoying the night's cool. When they saw us pull up, get out, and start changing the tire the men came over and one began to help while the other two insisted that the rest of us go over and sit with the family. Since Maggie and I had nothing in our hands to show that we should stay by the car, we obliged. We began walking toward the chairs in front of the house, and even though I saw it, one of the men grabbed my hand to lead me away from the big pile of cow poop in my path. He let go after we passed it. They had us sit. One of the women brought us water in open cups. We tried to tell them that we weren't allowed to drink it, but they claimed it was "mineral" water which I guess was equivalent to "clean." When we didn't drink, they insisted so I took a sip. It tasted fine. I took another, this seemed to satisfy them for awhile. Maggie refused to trust steamed rice, so she sat statue -still and basically shut down. They were very friendly and joyfully conversed with us about our travels so far. The man who helped me over the cow poop sat close to me and seemed more interested in me than in Maggie - which was something I was not used to. THis guy seemed to be in his mid to late 20s. His younger sister, late teens, early 20s, told me how Indian I looked (the 4th time someone told me this that afternoon). The guy said that he has a sister and a brother-in-law in San Francisco. That was cool. After about 20 minutes our driver motioned that they were done. Maggie and I got up to leave, and we said our thank yous and goodbyes. Maggie turned and walked off quicker, but i was only a few steps behind. The same guy as before came up to me and walked me to the car. On the way he took my hand again to shake it but then he held on and kissed it...I thought it weird but not much more until he did it a second time. We reached the car and as I tried to get inside he came in for a hug, hand around my waist, and then tried to kiss me. Before he could, I pushed him away. He smiled and tried again, and this time I pushed more forcefully, said, " NO!" firmly, got into the car, locked the door, and never looked back. I guess I was in shock for a little while. I didn't say anything until we again pulled over at a tire store to get another tire. After I told the others and they just found it amusing - saying that he just wanted to make me his bride or something. No thank you. I was just as bothered by the fact that the guy tried to make a move on me right in front of his family. But what ever, the farther we drove the better I felt.
At some point a few hours later we got the second flat tire and this time the driver changed it on his own. Uneventful - good. We eventually made it back home safe, sound, tired as all hell. We'd had a crazy-amazing time, but now only wanted sleep.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
7.15.11. 1:39PM. Day 14. The River Runs Through It.
Okay, I'm not sure what day it was that I said the monsoon officially started but I was wrong. Very wrong. It started today. It has been raining nonstop since the wee hours of the morning. Today I actually had to break out my very blue "I-look-like-a-Smurf" poncho and even that didn't help much.
Even though it rained profusely I enjoyed the lack of traffic on the road. It took longer to get a vikram but we could cross the street without fear of injury. We got soaked in a matter of seconds from leaving the house but it was fine, we were having fun. I couldn't stop laughing because Mary had put her camera and bag under her jacket for protection but also ended up looking 8 months pregnant with a fairly lumpy baby. We managed to get to Dr. Nanda's only one minute past 11:00, not too shabby for our first monsoon.
Just like with the streets, the clinic was empty - only two people came in during the whole hour and a half we were there. We asked to leave an hour early because Soniya, Aunty's daughter, wanted to take us to the bazaar herself. Dr. Nanda had no problem with us leaving early, especially in this weather. *Side note: Dr. Nanda is Aunty's cousin...which makes him my roundabout homestay uncle.* We ventured back out into the pouring rain, what little we had been able to dry off soon got soaked again. We got another vikram and when it dropped us off at our connection stop, the street was flooded about 7 inches deep. The thing about the streets here is that the gutters are huge. Understandable. They run along the edges of the buildings and are about a foot and a half wide and are about 2ish feet from the main road. There's a white line for the outside of the lanes. The vikrams were parked on the other side of the street from where we were dropped off, and we had to walk through the fast moving mini road river to get to them. I walked fairly slow, my shoes were already retaining water, there was no reason to be in a hurry. One guy seemed to think running would make his situation better but his plan backfired when instead of reaching the stoop of a shop, he sank and fell chest-deep into the gutter. Immediately guys came to help him up and were quickly able to get him out. I think he only got some bruising, but hopefully no cuts because that gutter is also a sewer, or is at least used as one, so I was worried about his cuts getting septic. I hope not.
Our day is not even half way done and we have to venture out at least 3 more times. I hope all goes well...
Our last rotation with Dr. Nisha Gera proved to be one of the most special moments in my life, and the beginning to the awesomest weekend ever. We arrived a bit early, as usual, and one nurse let us in to sit down and wait for the doctors to arrive. We didn't really have a chance to settle down yet before another nurse said two words to us, "Go. Delivery." She pointed down the hall and that's where we went. We got confused on where to go because all of the signs were in Hindi, but the woman's family seemed to know who we were so they all eagerly pointed us in the right direction. We opened the delivery room door and there was Dr. Nisha Gera all dressed in surgical gear, standing in between the outstretched and open legs of the woman in labor. She looked up at us and said, "Hello girls." and went back to getting the woman ready. The woman seemed exhausted from her many hours of labor, plus we were told she had preeclampsia. I'm not quite sure what that is but I'm pretty sure it wasn't good. The rest of the entire situation was both amazing and amusing. The amazing bit was that I was watching a live birth. The amusing part was that, Mary, the future doctor, has a fairly strong reaction to the mere sight of needles. I'd thought it was just when she had needlework done to her, but apparently not. The woman in labor had to get a local anesthetic so that Dr. Nisha Gera could cut her perineum so that the baby could fit through the birth canal. I didn't even notice the needle, I just saw huge scissors cut into a certain part of a woman's anatomy. But still, all I had was a look of mild curiosity. When I looked over at Mary, she was drained of all color in her face and she said that she was going to pass out, she left the room. I had no problem stomaching any part of this that I saw - I even surprised myself at my ability to cope with what should have been a fairly traumatic experience. I was also stroking my ego for a while after because, I, not being remotely medical, didn't have to leave the room two times (unlike someone) for fear of fainting. All of this happened in a matter of minutes and the woman gave one last push and the baby came out in one big bluish blob. They held the baby at an angle and sucked the fluid from his lungs. He began to cry. The doctor cut the cord and handed him to one of the nurses. The nurse worked the baby until he was nice and pink. Dr. Nisha Gera began sewing up the cut she's made after she removed the placenta and made sure everything was out. I watched the baby being cleaned with wads of cotton and baby oil. He was the cutest little wrinkley thing with all 10 fingers and 10 toes, 2 nostrils, 2 lips, 2 ears, 2 eyes, and all the right plumbing. My maternal drive was kicking into high gear and I had a strong impulse to have one...but I'm resisting for now. Don't worry. We left the delivery room with the doctor and left the nurses to clean up the rest. The rest of the night was kind of dreamlike as Mary and I were both on a post we-just-witnessed-a-birth high.
Just like with the streets, the clinic was empty - only two people came in during the whole hour and a half we were there. We asked to leave an hour early because Soniya, Aunty's daughter, wanted to take us to the bazaar herself. Dr. Nanda had no problem with us leaving early, especially in this weather. *Side note: Dr. Nanda is Aunty's cousin...which makes him my roundabout homestay uncle.* We ventured back out into the pouring rain, what little we had been able to dry off soon got soaked again. We got another vikram and when it dropped us off at our connection stop, the street was flooded about 7 inches deep. The thing about the streets here is that the gutters are huge. Understandable. They run along the edges of the buildings and are about a foot and a half wide and are about 2ish feet from the main road. There's a white line for the outside of the lanes. The vikrams were parked on the other side of the street from where we were dropped off, and we had to walk through the fast moving mini road river to get to them. I walked fairly slow, my shoes were already retaining water, there was no reason to be in a hurry. One guy seemed to think running would make his situation better but his plan backfired when instead of reaching the stoop of a shop, he sank and fell chest-deep into the gutter. Immediately guys came to help him up and were quickly able to get him out. I think he only got some bruising, but hopefully no cuts because that gutter is also a sewer, or is at least used as one, so I was worried about his cuts getting septic. I hope not.
Our day is not even half way done and we have to venture out at least 3 more times. I hope all goes well...
Our last rotation with Dr. Nisha Gera proved to be one of the most special moments in my life, and the beginning to the awesomest weekend ever. We arrived a bit early, as usual, and one nurse let us in to sit down and wait for the doctors to arrive. We didn't really have a chance to settle down yet before another nurse said two words to us, "Go. Delivery." She pointed down the hall and that's where we went. We got confused on where to go because all of the signs were in Hindi, but the woman's family seemed to know who we were so they all eagerly pointed us in the right direction. We opened the delivery room door and there was Dr. Nisha Gera all dressed in surgical gear, standing in between the outstretched and open legs of the woman in labor. She looked up at us and said, "Hello girls." and went back to getting the woman ready. The woman seemed exhausted from her many hours of labor, plus we were told she had preeclampsia. I'm not quite sure what that is but I'm pretty sure it wasn't good. The rest of the entire situation was both amazing and amusing. The amazing bit was that I was watching a live birth. The amusing part was that, Mary, the future doctor, has a fairly strong reaction to the mere sight of needles. I'd thought it was just when she had needlework done to her, but apparently not. The woman in labor had to get a local anesthetic so that Dr. Nisha Gera could cut her perineum so that the baby could fit through the birth canal. I didn't even notice the needle, I just saw huge scissors cut into a certain part of a woman's anatomy. But still, all I had was a look of mild curiosity. When I looked over at Mary, she was drained of all color in her face and she said that she was going to pass out, she left the room. I had no problem stomaching any part of this that I saw - I even surprised myself at my ability to cope with what should have been a fairly traumatic experience. I was also stroking my ego for a while after because, I, not being remotely medical, didn't have to leave the room two times (unlike someone) for fear of fainting. All of this happened in a matter of minutes and the woman gave one last push and the baby came out in one big bluish blob. They held the baby at an angle and sucked the fluid from his lungs. He began to cry. The doctor cut the cord and handed him to one of the nurses. The nurse worked the baby until he was nice and pink. Dr. Nisha Gera began sewing up the cut she's made after she removed the placenta and made sure everything was out. I watched the baby being cleaned with wads of cotton and baby oil. He was the cutest little wrinkley thing with all 10 fingers and 10 toes, 2 nostrils, 2 lips, 2 ears, 2 eyes, and all the right plumbing. My maternal drive was kicking into high gear and I had a strong impulse to have one...but I'm resisting for now. Don't worry. We left the delivery room with the doctor and left the nurses to clean up the rest. The rest of the night was kind of dreamlike as Mary and I were both on a post we-just-witnessed-a-birth high.
7.13.11. 11:28PM. Day 12. Dancing in the Moonlight.
Today was a major milestone for Mary and I. We officially mastered the transportation in Dehradun. It's only halfway into the first of two weeks here and already we feel we can get ourselves anywhere. We hopped onto two vikram connections for our homeopathy clinic in the morning and actually made it before the doctor, despite Mayank keeping us at the house longer after breakfast. Dr. Nanda had to leave the clinic early to pick up his brother from the train station, and since it was on the way he offered to take us home.
The whole leaving an hour earlier really worked in our favor since we wanted to go back to the Paltan Bazaar to go to a fabric store Aunty's daughter highly recommended, and be back in time for our trusty A. Rick driver to pick us up at 3:30. We would normally have been done at the clinic at 1:30, but now we were already at home and eating lunch at that time. By the time we left we would have only just over an hour to go, shop, and come back in a comfortable amount of time to meet our time goal. Somehow we pulled it off. We walked down the alleyway to the street corner and after a few minutes were picked up by vikram 8. We traveled a ways and were dropped off at the Clocktower. We wandered into the bazaar, luckily not as swarming as on Saturday but still crowded, we looked for the shop, Mahawar, down the sea of signs. Somehow I spotted it and we ventured inside. Again only men worked here, but this time 3 or 4 came to greet us. The service was amazing and, lucky me, the prices were set. If I had to guess, I would say that this place had about 15,000 bags of fabric. Each bag contains a patterned fabric for the shirt and them a complimenting one for the pants (salwar kameez/suit), and a matching scarf (dupata), all neatly folded into a clear plastic bag of about the size and shape of a men's dress shirt box. Floor to ceiling rows and rows on every wall on at least two floors. The show rooms were neat. You have to take your shoes off before you enter, the floor is padded with a white sheet on top that they tell you to sit on, and then they bring out stacks of these bags at a time according to your color, fabric, and style specifications. Once they bring out these stacks, if you opt not to touch them, the salesman will slip it out of the bag, in one cool motion, and then spread the material wide and smooth on the sheet with another single motion. The guy repeated this process adding layer after layer of fabric until we saw things we liked. I started with the one type of suit that Mun said I absolutely needed, and which also proved to be the hardest to find in D. Dun. But Aunty's daughter said Mahawar had it, and oh - they had it. I had so much to choose from I felt slightly overwhelmed by the decision. But eventually I found one I really liked. Sonce I bought two fancy ones yesterday from another shop, they next ones I bought today were more for everyday use. I helped India's economy a lot today. At Mahawar I spent 3700 rps. on fabric for 4 suits and at Seema's, the other shop own and run by Dr. Prem Nath's wife, I spent a total of 4,365 rps. for the fabrics of 2 suits, the stitching of 6 suits and one sari blouse. And the ari, itself, which I think I way overpayed for now even though it was a fixed price, 3,100 rps. This for a grand total of: 11, 165 rps or $253.75 for 7 costom made outfits, two of which are made of silk , and the others were all had embroydered. Yup. Money well spent. Next week I have to buy accessories for all of this and still get gifts for everyone!
The whole leaving an hour earlier really worked in our favor since we wanted to go back to the Paltan Bazaar to go to a fabric store Aunty's daughter highly recommended, and be back in time for our trusty A. Rick driver to pick us up at 3:30. We would normally have been done at the clinic at 1:30, but now we were already at home and eating lunch at that time. By the time we left we would have only just over an hour to go, shop, and come back in a comfortable amount of time to meet our time goal. Somehow we pulled it off. We walked down the alleyway to the street corner and after a few minutes were picked up by vikram 8. We traveled a ways and were dropped off at the Clocktower. We wandered into the bazaar, luckily not as swarming as on Saturday but still crowded, we looked for the shop, Mahawar, down the sea of signs. Somehow I spotted it and we ventured inside. Again only men worked here, but this time 3 or 4 came to greet us. The service was amazing and, lucky me, the prices were set. If I had to guess, I would say that this place had about 15,000 bags of fabric. Each bag contains a patterned fabric for the shirt and them a complimenting one for the pants (salwar kameez/suit), and a matching scarf (dupata), all neatly folded into a clear plastic bag of about the size and shape of a men's dress shirt box. Floor to ceiling rows and rows on every wall on at least two floors. The show rooms were neat. You have to take your shoes off before you enter, the floor is padded with a white sheet on top that they tell you to sit on, and then they bring out stacks of these bags at a time according to your color, fabric, and style specifications. Once they bring out these stacks, if you opt not to touch them, the salesman will slip it out of the bag, in one cool motion, and then spread the material wide and smooth on the sheet with another single motion. The guy repeated this process adding layer after layer of fabric until we saw things we liked. I started with the one type of suit that Mun said I absolutely needed, and which also proved to be the hardest to find in D. Dun. But Aunty's daughter said Mahawar had it, and oh - they had it. I had so much to choose from I felt slightly overwhelmed by the decision. But eventually I found one I really liked. Sonce I bought two fancy ones yesterday from another shop, they next ones I bought today were more for everyday use. I helped India's economy a lot today. At Mahawar I spent 3700 rps. on fabric for 4 suits and at Seema's, the other shop own and run by Dr. Prem Nath's wife, I spent a total of 4,365 rps. for the fabrics of 2 suits, the stitching of 6 suits and one sari blouse. And the ari, itself, which I think I way overpayed for now even though it was a fixed price, 3,100 rps. This for a grand total of: 11, 165 rps or $253.75 for 7 costom made outfits, two of which are made of silk , and the others were all had embroydered. Yup. Money well spent. Next week I have to buy accessories for all of this and still get gifts for everyone!
...
When we came back from our last clinic, Dr. Nisha Gera, we found that all the lights were off in the house. We came inside to find Aunty sitting on one of the couches next to a battery powered blue lamp, waiting for us. She told us there was a power outage, so most of the house was lit by candles. I went up to the roof while Aunty was setting up our dinner. I decided to make a few phone calls, of which nobody picked up, and that's when I saw the moon. It was a full moon. At this point Aunty called me down to dinner, and Mary and I had dinner by candle light. So romantic. After, we came back up to the roof and just basked in the powerful moonlight. I don't know why, but when ever I see a full moon, the song Dancing in the Moonlight gets into my head. The annoying part is those are only words I know, so I just repeat that over and over again. People called me back and Mary and I just laid on the roof looking up at the clouds. We saw lots of bats flying around. These ones are huge. They are about the size of crows, but they were definitely bats. After about two hours on the roof the power came back on. Even with the fan on it is cooler outside. But here we are. Good night!
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