Addy and Sarah have really brought out Rajashree’s wild side.  She calls Addy a “shameless creature” on a regular basis, and Addy and Sarah taught her to say “shake it baby” when she wants us to do the dance with energy.  Yesterday we were lying on the floor and Haley came to lie with us.  Rajashree said “wow Haley, you are really efficient.  Raping three girls at once.” Then she laughed a lot, and we realized that it was a joke.  She has also taken to the Bollywood moves that we know, incorporating crazy lascivious moves into our dances.  The next day she always takes them out though.

The most important thing to her are our expressions.  She is always making sure that me are making shy eyes, or coy faces, or being a little bit sexy but not too much.  It is all very calculated.  Recently I have come to the forefront as the expressive one, which is no doubt due to theatre training.  She calls Haley the soft one, Addy the shameless one, and I can’t remember her name for Sarah.  But she has really taken to us.  Every time I make a face while dancing, or mess up a step, she gains the most appalled expression, and a little part of me wants to curl up in the corner of her living room where we have our classes. 

Sarah was saying the other day that no matter how confounded she gets with our steps, or our lack of grace, or more than that our lack of coyness, she loves us because we giver her a chance to express something that she cannot let out anywhere else in her life.  We joke about girl things, and American girl things at that.  Never would I ever broach the subject of sex with any other woman I have met in India, except the ACM staff.  Rajashree is one of those secretly wild people who you would never know that about were you not in a semi-private setting with her.  She teases Addy about her Indian boyfriend, and makes fun of us because she says we are collecting boys from every region.  Addy has her Punjabi boy, Sarah found a Bombayite, and she claims that Haley and I will end up with a Bengali and a Kashmiri.  Good luck with that Rajashree!  

I am really excited for my mom to come visit.  I want to be in the presence of someone having their first views of India, and I also want to explore a new part of the country.  Pune has become a second home for me.  It is a place that I will no doubt return to because it lends such comfort.  And certainly there are everyday challenges that come from it, but Pune in itself is not a challenge here anymore.  My mom asked if India is a place that I would ever like to live.  I said no, well not exactly live.  I can see myself returning here over and over with the same child-like cautiousness mixed with the strongest sort of curiosity, but India will never be a place where I fit in.  No matter how much time I spend in the sun and how much hair dye I use, I am a permanent outsider here.  No amount of cultural education or language study will make me fit in.  One thing I have learned about myself through this experience is that I like to be a chameleon.  I like to fit in when I travel and live places.  I like to observe the inner workings of a city or a culture from the inside.  But in coming here, I have found a new type of observation, a more hands-on one.  People can tell that I am an outsider, can tell that I obviously know nothing, and despite my ignorance, are willing to show me because I am willing to see and learn. 

If India has taught me one thing, it has been the ability to know nothing and at the same time not feel stupid.  I remember writing a few months ago “I wish my age reflected my abilities” and that is still the case in certain settings, but I also feel prepared to say when I don’t understand or don’t know how.  I have always been a bit of a perfectionist, and the ability to make mistakes with grace is something else I have gained from this. I am proud of that, and more than that I am proud of being able to say that.  I cannot speculate on how I will feel when I get home or when I go back to school and my life there, but I do have a sense of greater world perspective.  This experience has made the world so much smaller for me.  I feel like all parts of it are tangible, but I also feel so much smaller than I did a few months ago.  I am but a spec in the big picture of the world, of the universe.  I am but a spec.

So we arrived at the train station at about 6:30 in the morning, and The Captain (General Manager of one of our hotels in the North) had set us up with a hotel in Goa. We called the guy he told us to call, and all we got out of him were a few sleep-hindered words. So we decided to call The Captain. From him all we got was an inebriated slur followed by “Diwali!” which means that he was celebrating the holiday in fine form. Anyway, a man in a pink shirt showed up a few minutes later driving a tricked-out Mitsubishi Lancer, and somehow the six of us and our stuff piled into it and we ended up in a jungle, on the water, at a hotel. It just sort of happened.

Now you have to understand that when this group travels, we get really lucky. Somehow we always end up in a place that takes great care of us, that someone who knows someone who is related to someone has set us up with. We were not at all sure where we were supposed to be. Out our window were some very primitive looking fishing boats, and there did not appear to be anyone else in the hotel. We called The Captain once more to see what was actually going on, and we were indeed in the right place. So here is how we got there:

Anju, ACM’s resource person knows Raj. Raj owns the guest house in Banjar where we stayed. He is a great guy, went to school in Scotland, has a 2 month old baby named Sven, and was recently mistaken for a killer and nearly escaped a shoot-out with the police because of it. Anyway, he is friends with a man who owns a hotel in Manali—Mr. Sharma. Mr. Sharma hooked us up with some great rooms in Manali, and that is how we met the Captain. The Captain is the General Manager of the restaurant connected to the hotel in Manali. The reason we got to know him is because he invited us to his club and then to a birthday party. It was in true India fashion: “You do one thing. We go to my disque. 8:30 you be ready. After that there is Birthday party. We come here and go to birthday party.” We were all fairly skeptical, but the Captain did pull through. Well turns out the Birthday party was for the restaurant’s cook, Baba. Well, if you ask Baba, we are all fast friends. That is why we were sent to this particular hotel in Goa. The hotel is owned by a man named Amber who has working for him a wonderful man named Ankush, and Ankush just happens to be Baba’s twin brother. Fancy that.

Anyway, Ankush took to us just as quicky as Baba did, and Amber took to Addy. Ankush took it upon himself to be our personal tour guide, and as Becca wrote “hospitality is a responsibility.” The first day we went to a busy public beach in a little cove, and it was so heavenly to be that close to something so pure, and in a much different way than the Himalayas. It was weird though to be around so many white people. They were everywhere. For me at least it was different to go to Goa than to find particularly western pockets elsewhere in India. I went there with that as the expectation. I gave myself license to step out of the true Indian experience, and for four days, I got to see what people get to see of India without being really in it.
That night we went to a few clubs. The first was this crazy trance club that appeared to be a bunch of 45-year-old Europeans tripping on acid. There was an incredibly tall woman in a tiny spandex mini-dress who was speaking either Portuguese or Italian snorting coke off the bathroom sink too. The second club had Bollywood music, fewer drugs, and a lot of people who looked socially inept. This club was more fun.

The following day we decided to find a place to have breakfast, and while wandering through a fishing village, ran into Ankush (who for some odd reason was standing in the local liquor store at 8:30 in the morning. He told us that he already had a plan for us! We were going to his sister’s house for breakfast! Luckily it was Diwali season, so there was a shit-ton of food on hand. (Shit-ton is the only remotely accurate word to describe the plethora of etables available during Diwali.) I am pretty sure that taking six American girls into your house is, first off, not an easy task, but also not something that is done on a regular basis. Anyway, his sister, her children, and a lot of other unidentified family members sat down and watched us eat a wonderful South Indian breakfast. They all sat around in their house dresses, which was welcoming. It made me feel like I had not put them too out of their normal routine.
After that, Ankush said we were going to a virgin beach, and we obediently followed him to a fishing boat which we boarded and ended up in paradise. It was something out of a James Bond movie, or like the island they are on in “Lost.” There is no other way to describe it than PARADISE! For lunch we return to Ankush’s sister’s house, and it happens to be the brother-sister relationship day of Diwali, so we get to watch a little ceremony. We are stuffed to the brim, and then the sister brings out sweets. Our evening is spent in the hotel, but two of Haley’s friends from school who happen to be in Goa come and join us, and we make an evening of it. We ask the hotel for red wine, and instead get full glasses of port. If there is one thing Indians did not learn from British rule, it is how to do alcohol.
The following day, we spend courtesy of Surinder’s best friend, Shanu (which sound remarkably like Shamu or Shampoo) and we don’t see him but for five minutes. He sends a car for us, the driver takes us to the hotel that Shanu owns (it would have been nice to know about said hotel earlier Surinder!) and we get free lunch. Then the driver takes us to a few different beaches, we watch the sun set for the last time in Goa, and after that we wander down a back alley where we are offered Ecstasy, but end up at the most enchanting little fish restaurant overlooking the water. Perfect.
The following morning, Ankush takes us to his other sister’s house for breakfast. Then we trek down this mountain, nearly fall down a dry waterfall and slip off a bit of a cliff, but end up in an even better paradise. Every place we see is a little better than the last. I just cannot get over it! After we climb back up the mountain, Ankush takes us to the train station and says we have to wait for Amber. We have established Amber as a creeper by now, so we are not inclined to wait for him, but Ankush insists. Amber never comes to see us. He drops off a package for Addy with Ankush and disappears. The package is addressed to Addy-Taddy (which he has taken to calling her) and contains two stuffed rabbits—one of which makes a kissing noise and says “I love you” when you squeeze it and the other which plays techno music when you squeeze it—and a box of chocolates. This only further establishes Amber as a creeper.
On the train we meet two women who are just looking to take a picture of a waterfall. They get the shot. I am woken up in the middle of the night by a man who insists that Becca is in his berth, and we get in a bit of a squabble, mainly because he just keeps pointing and saying “Seventy One!” even though the berths have very obviously been renumbered. A few short hours later we are in Pune, and I arrive home at 4:30am. Sulu still likes me despite my disturbing her sleep.

Sulu’s “sister-in-law” is visiting again.  Now I use quotations, because Kusum is just another unidentified Indian family member.  Actually she is Sulu’s husband’s cousin.  Anyway, that constitutes sister-in-law in India, and she is such a lovely person that I accept it openly.  She keeps coming to Pune because her brother is in the hospital.  He has undergone angioplasty, and is not doing well.  When Kusum is here, she and I share a room, which I am growing to look forward to.  She has the most calming presence, and although she does not talk much, she is always gentle and smiling.  Her eyes are the most riveting thing about her.  They are deep-set, dark and glassy, and appear to hold a lot of secrets, not just her own, but secrets of the world. 

Anyway, things with Sulu could not be better.  She has made me feel so at home—so much so that she gave me my own set of keys—and she likes me.  That is just a wonderful feeling.  The other day I brought Haley home unannounced, and Sulu was so kind, and was not put out at all.  I made us all tea (since I am allowed to touch things in the kitchen now) and we talked about sewing and knitting.  Sulu also talks to me.  We have real conversations aobut her family and her life, and my life, and human rights, and the world, and Barak Obama.  I just love her!

When I got back from Mahabaleshwar, she was so happy to see me, and wanted to know what work I had done on my project.  The weekend was a work weekend for project consultations.  It reminded me a lot of Writing Center staff retreat, but with different objectives.  I think everyone made a lot of head-way on their stuff.  I am really excited to keep working.  This was also a really great weekend for the ten of us.  I feel like we all bonded and understand each other better.  I have to say that there are some people I have not spent much time with since orientation week, and it has been fascinating to witness how people have grown and changed over the past months. 

Anyway, my Independent Study Project is really a study and analysis into how youth participate in politics and see their role in the future of Indian politics.  I have been working with the Maharashtra Institute of Technology (abbreviated MIT) and their school of government along with some people from the Pune University, and am making some big strides I think.  My only real problem is source material since this topic has never really been written about before by anyone.  

Well come to find out, she “forgot” about the meeting.  The day after I came home, she told me this, and then started talking about how Anju and Seema had come to the house to talk to her.  She started talking, and ended up yelling at me.  I left the house for a few hours, came back and packed my things, and the next morning I left for good.  The experience had stopped being positive or educational in any way.

I spent the next night at Anju’s, and she made me fish curry and her husband gave me a beer.  They took good care of me, and even in that night I remembered what a host-family should be like.  They were happy to have me there and enjoyed my company.  Even on such short notice. 

The following day, Anju brought me to Sulochana Supre’s house, and I don’t ever want to leave.  Sulu, as I call her, made me feel comfortable and safe from the moment I stepped through the door.  I feel like I can talk to her and ask her anything at any time. She laughs at my jokes and lets me actually help her cook.  Today I got to roll my first Chapatti.  We went to the movies this afternoon, and yesterday we made milkshakes for breakfast.  I think I am in love. 

Tomorrow afternoon we leave for Goa to spend four days on the beach!  I am so excited to just relax!  Our last trip was amazing but hectic,  and this should just be pure relaxation.  The Captain has called one of his hotel friends to arrange for a place for us to say.  Khoop Chan!

Diwali, the hindu winter holiday, is in full swing, and everywhere you go there are sweets and lights.  Fireworks woke me up this morning at 5:00.   

I said that I did not want to share too much of my trip as I was going because it was a personal experience, and that it was.  It was completely empowering to be six young women traveling India alone.  We met some wonderful characters, had some wild experiences, and I have to say I learned a lot about myself and all the rest of the ladies in the group.

Day 1: Marathi Exam, hours in the train station, pleasant surprise at 2^nd class sleeping compartments, 25 hours on a train. 

Day 2: Continuation of the 25 hours on a train, a bunch of wrestlers end up seated across from us, they appear rather predatory, and a 12 year old boy comes to our rescue.  He is followed by his attractive 20 something cousin. Arrival in Delhi, strange man tries to lead us down an unlit back alley, turns out our hotel is down said alley. It seems creepy.

Day 3: The hotel has a lovely breakfast menu.  Sightseeing in Delhi.  I don’t feel well and go back to the room.

Day 4: Head cold has turned into something bigger.  I go on a search for a doctor, and end up in a hospital that caters to foreigners, particularly Israelis.  They try to keep me overnight, I opt for extensive tests and a follow-up phone call.  I have officially had blood drawn in a developing country.  See what the red cross has to say about that. 

Day 5: Early morning train to Agra and the Taj Mahal.  I hate Agra.  It may officially be the ass-crack of the universe.  The Taj Mahal definitely lived up to its “wonder of the world” title, though it could be improved with the elimination of so many young Indian preators wanting “just one snap, just one photo” with a white person.

Day 6: The train ride from Hell back to Delhi.  Then waiting in the train station, then another train to Chandigarh with an entire girls’ basketball team who had just won a tournament in Rajasthan.  I must have shook each of their hands twice.  One told us that we would be in her heart forever.  Then we got on a bus to Kumar Hatti, perhaps the smallest town in Himachal. Addy’s mom’s boyfriend Surinder took us in. 

Day 7: What happens un Kumar Hatti stays in Kumar Hatti  Lets just say the view from his terrace is to die for.  A valley in the Himalayas, as green as can be for as far as the eye can see. 

Day 8 and Day 9: More of what happens in Kumar Hatti stays in Kumar Hatti. 

Day 10: We arrive Banjar after a 7 hour bus ride where my bag is atop the bus but not tied down.  Good thing I did not know till we got there.  We meet Anju’s friend Raj who owns a guest house and restaurant, and he takes us to meet his baby Sven.  Yes Sven.  Their house is amazing and Sven is adorable. 

Day 11: We take a hike in the Himalayas.  Now how many people can say they have done that?  I really cannot say enough about the Himalayas.  I will have to tell you verbally my true feelings.  Come evening, Elizabeth gets accidentally engaged.  What else is new, huh?

Day 12: We try to leave Banjar for Manali, and Elizabeth’s fiancé is really not into that idea.  Finally we get a private taxi with a 19 year old driver named Rohit who plays Hindi techno all the way to Manali.  We are stopped by police road blocks tree times.  Addy gets nervous.  Once in Manali we meet one of Raj’s friends, and The Captain.  He feeds us at his restaurant and takes us to his nightclub.

Day 13: Shopping in Manali is pretty great.  We also go on a walk through one of the most beautiful forests I have ever been in.  It compares to the Redwood Forest.  On the way back from this walk (lead by the Captain) we may have spotted some wild marijuana.  I guess that is what you get in Manali. 

Come afternoon we board a bus for Amritsar.  It is a 15 hour bus ride.  Within the first twenty minutes, Elizabeth drops her phone out of the window.

Day 14: Still on the bus.  There is a dust family in front of us who smell, and the aisles are filled with lots of men, one of whom spent the night leaning against Haley.  We arrive in Amritsar, sleep deprived and with full bladders, and could really have ended up nowhere better than the golden temple.  We got free food, several lessons on Sikhism, and clean feet (you have to wash them before you enter.) Plus to whole temple is beautiful and golden.  Becca and I pass out in the train station, and I meet Shelly, a Ta Kwon Do master attending cosmetology school.  She now texts me regularly.  We board a train to Jaipur.  On the train we meet three Sikh boys who first mistake me for the teacher fo the group, and then one of them proceeds to hit on me.  

Day 15: Disembark train in Jaipur, walk to a kick-ass hotel (the Hotel Pearl Palace) which accomidates us in their family room that looks more like it should belong to a Moghul king’s harem.  The hotel has a giant peacock structure on the top.  We spent the afternoon browsing the old city, and in the evening meet up with one of Becca’s high school friends, Charlie, and his friend Dan, who are studying in Jaipur, and we make an American evening of it.  Somewhere along the way we pick up Alex, a student who is doing semester at sea.  He added phrases like “bum diggity” and “its not really tight, but its like tiiight” to the conversation. 

Day 16: Becca, Haley and I are burned out from so much traveling.  We go to a park, then get some lunch then to a movie with Charlie.  Everyone else does touristy things.  Then we board a night train to Udaipur City.

Day 17: I wake up to Elizabeth tugging on my arm saying “um…I think this is our stop”.  By the time we are all awake, there is no one else on the train.  We find a restaurant, and then a hotel, and then we just sort of play around walking through the city.  It is really touristy, but fun.  The one thing I hate about Udaipur: expensive food, and not enough of it.  We watch the sun set over the Floating Palace.

Day 18: We encounter some elephants on the street, and their trainers offer us a ride.  Then we tour a palace (they are all starting to look the same) and then go for lunch. 

Becca makes a friend, and he too mistakes me for the teacher of the group.  The girls give me the nick name “Auntie”  I want to die.  Come 9pm, we head for the train station.  I sleep better on a train than anywhere else now. 

Day 19:  Wake up in Mumbai.  The Captain has come home to visit his sister in Mumbai, and he picks us up at the train station and we go to his house for food and conversation.  Then his brother in law arranges for our bus home, and he takes us to get the bus.  It is two hours late.  The bus drops us off on the outskirts of Pune at 11:30pm.  I arrive homw at 12:01

Of course there is a lot more to add to each of these stories.  I started out writing terribly detailed accounts, but a.) it is too much work and b.) it is not the same as me telling you.  In Pune I have had time to acclimate and time to reflect, but this trip really was a one-of-a-kind experience where I could not process everything as fast as it happens.  There are also so many little stories that happened along the way, and of course a girl has to have some secrets. 

Sorry I have not kept up with my updates in a while.  It is only going to get worse though. This is the last two days of classes before I head out onto my Northern adventure.  It should be a fantastic time, but none of you will get to hear about it until I get back.  I am not bringing my computer, I plan to visit internet cafes infrequently if ever, and if you call either cell phone, roaming will ensue, so it will be several precious pennies to get a hold of me.  To be perfectly honest, I want it that way.  I want to be on my own, living in the moment, experiencing something fantastic.  I may not even write about it when I get back, because that way I will have some real stories to tell about my adventures.

Not much left to do now but finish packing and finish my environmental science paper.

Wish me luck!

Thanks for reading.

The topic of scootys also deserves some attention.  A scooty refers to anything that is a two-wheeled vehicle.  It can be a vespa, a moped or a motorcycle.  There are also custom scootys that have two extra wheels in the back usually driven by disabled people who are unable to put a foot down at stop lights.  Scootys are everywhere, and can go everywhere.  Sometimes they will come at you when you are walking down the sidewalk, sometimes they will go against the flow of traffic on almost any street, and they are really ruling the roads here in Pune.  The scooty is really the vehicle of choice for just about any user.  It also appears to come in very handy when hauling large objects.  The choice arrangement for this is driver facing front, passenger facing backwards holding object in need of transport.  Favorites to date: Wide-screen TV still in box, entire computer (Monitor, CPU and keyboard), propane tank (sometimes more than one), and ladder.  Sometimes the passenger will face forward if the object is small enough.  Say a three-foot pane of triangular glass.  That is just an accident waiting to happen. 

Another commonly asked question in India is “how many people can fit on one scooty?” So far I have seen three grown men, Our maid’s family of four each with a large shopping bag, a family of five with two pre-teen children, and two men with three little kids.  So how do you fit a family of five on a scooty?  I’ll tell you.  Baba drives.  Middle-sized child sits in front of him (Or stands on the foot plate if it is a vespa instead of a motorcycle)  largest child sits behind him in traditional motorcycle passenger style, and behind this child sits Ae, side-saddle in her sari with a baby in her arms.  That is how you fit a family of five on a scooty.  A variations on the theme includes the vespa with two children on the foot board which I guess would potentially make it possible to fit six on a scooty. 

Honda Hero brand is making a fortune off of this country.  Every other bike on the road is a Honda.  They make several different models and several different colors, but that does not mean anything here really as old men are often found on pink scootys, and Haley’s host mom drives a burnt-orange motorcycle.   

Rule of thumb when crossing the street: You can always outrun a rickshaw: Go for it. You can usually outrun a car: Proceed with caution.  You will never outrun a scooty: Proceed slowly and make no sudden movements, they will go around you.  Never try to outrun a bus.  Being hit by a bus is the only certain death on Pune streets.  It simply is not worth the risk.  Bicycles are another story altogether.  I can say with almost complete certainty that they are the biggest risk on the road because they do not follow traffic rules, nor pedestrian rules.  They make sudden, jerky movements and speed up and slow down regularly, and they are also sort of hard to see.  Always watch out for bikes.  That is where the true danger lies. 

Things are progressively getting better though.  This afternoon Sucheta took us to the Bandarkar Oriental Research Institute—walking distance from ACM, where we got to see 2600 year old manuscripts and other relics of civilizations that have since dissolved.  Sucheta works at ACM as the Academic Director and also our Marathi teacher, but she is really an expert in Sanskrit.  She has a PhD is Sanskrit Literature—or something similar—and she is basically just brilliant.  These manuscripts were so carefully created and are, or course, all written by hand.  There is a special process to create them where first you get the paper wet, then you lay this board of strings across it to create lines.  That is how the writing is so straight.  After several years the lines disappear, and that is what we see.  Who knew?  Some of the manuscripts are written in real gold.  Others are faded so badly that they have to be immersed in water before they can be read. 

There is an amazing library there full of ancient and beautiful books that must be carefully preserved, but not in the ways that we Americans think of preservation.  These manuscripts are not bound, they never were, and so they are sandwiched between two pieces of what appears to be a pressed boars, then they are wrapped in a cloth and tied with string.  They are placed in mostly wooden cabinets, and that is all there is to it.  No special boxes, not UV protective coverings, just cloth and cardboard basically.  And the thing is, it seems to have held up for a pretty decent length of time.  Maybe we are overdoing it with our chemicals and gloves and stuff.  Luckily Pune is a temperate place.  A lot of humidity, but no crazy extreme temperatures or anything. 

Fun fact (not actually fun, just interesting) There was no paper in India during WWI because the British had their hands full in other areas. 

Less fun fact: There are no original Buddhists texts left in India, even though it is the birthplace of the religion.  The Mughal rulers destroyed all of it.  Now one must go to Tibet, Nepal or China to find original Buddhist texts. 

We went to lunch at one of our new favorite spots, the Baba Food Court, just a few short blocks from ACM.  They have a great 28 Rs. Thali, which is delicious, relatively nutritious, and freakin’ cheap.  28 Rs. Is approximately 65 cents.  Score!  After that, I decided to try and get my life back on track, starting with putting more minutes on my cell phone.  I went to two places, one of which could not do it and the other which could not do it because they were closed for lunch.  I finally sucked it up and went to the Idea Mobile office which is really close to my house, and damn, that place runs like clock-work!  I went over to this screen, took a number, gave them my cell phone number and told them why I was there, and within fifteen minutes I was sitting across from a real Idea employee asking her which amount was the most economical.  It was fantastic!  Addy had told me that India would be the most functional country on earth if the Idea people ran everything, and indeed she was right.  While I was there I witnessed a blind man being set up with a cell phone, A kid delivering Thali plates to the employees, and a seamless shift change.  It was amazing!  Granted, it did take longer than it does at other locations because they do more than just recharge cell phones, but I think it was worth the experience.

Tonight we went far-far-far out into the boonies to this lovely home to perform our dances for some of our teacher’s other students.  It was really nice to get out for a while and to meet some new people.  They also fed us some idli, really good tea, and some fried onion-potato things.  It was fantastic!  There were four really little girls there—some of whom I think take Baratnatium from our teacher, and they were too cute.  None of them would talk to us though, which is too bad, but also sort of understandable. 

Anju recommended that I just wait until I do something wrong and Ae tells me so, and then explain to her that I don’t know any better.  Thinking about it more, I discovered that it is not so much that she tells me I am wrong or am doing something wrong.  It is instead that she does not tell me any alternatives.  She does not tell me a better way to do things.  So I just end up feeling helpless and like India had defeated me.  I am really just exhausted.  I need a break, I need some sleep, I need a change.  I think that this two-week break is going to give me a lot pf perspective on my situation, on how I feel about my family, and on how I feel about life right now.  Eight more days baby!

The thing is, I do not want to let these small instances color my entire Indian adventure.  I really love my Ae and my Baba no matter what I may say to the contrary.  I can name more things that I like about Ae than things that I dislike, but it is always the case that the negative things outshine the positive ones.  Ae for one is a pretty Western lady for being born and raised in India before Indian independence.  She is one of the best cooks I’ve ever had the pleasure to sample food from, and she can be very comforting if I approach her with my problems.  She lets me do my laundry when I want, she lets me watch TV when I want, she lets me bathe when I feel it necessary.  She is helping to plan my mom’s visit, she introduces me to her friends, but I still feel like a screw up so much of the time because of the little things.  Maybe I just do not have the right mindset to live in an Indian house.  I have heard the words “very bad!” referring to something I have done too many times in the past few months. 

Part of me just wants to say, “look lady, I’m living in your house by your rules, trying my best to keep you happy.  I only want to help, I only want you to like me, and I come from almost exactly half-way around the world, so if there is something I do wrong, I’m sorry, but I am trying my best.   Tell me what I do right for once instead of what I do wrong.  It will make both of us happier.  If you could tell me how I could do things right in stead of just pointing out this nebulous ‘wrong’ that you see in my actions, that would be just peachy.  How do you feel about that?”  But I’m not going to say that in part because our language barrier is so vast that “peachy” “nebulous”

Tonight Christian, a former ACM student, came to the house with his wife and two small children.  It was a nice change, a nice sort of escape for a few hours.  It was also nice to talk to someone who has been in my position.  His wife is from Maharashtra—if not directly then her ancestors are.  She was delightful, and really interested in what I am doing here and how my time is going.