Jai Ho! Previous to docking in India, the ship’s crew covered the carpets in cardboard, hoping to minimize the dirt that the shipboard community would potentially track in. The general conversation before arriving revolved around the fact that India would be completely different than any port we have been to yet. Preparations were made in order handle the various things that would overwhelm the senses. We discussed the Indians’ idea of personal space and how their personal “bubble” is far smaller than Americans’. The dirt would take over and the smells would overpower. Wear closed-toed shoes at all times, watch out for crazy traffic, and get ready to throw your clothes out after wearing them. The percentage of students that the medical center expected to get food poisoning was frightening. One-sixth of the world’s population resides in India, and I could not wait to witness such a staggering statistic.
In my mind, I expected dusty, busy cities with a lot of poverty and some belly dancing. What I got was six days that seemed like two weeks that changed my life. It was dirty, but not as bad as we were told. The poverty was mind blowing and everywhere. It really made me realize and empathize the difference of lifestyles, rather than just acknowledging the chiasm. I know that I’m going to have a hard time recalling all of the experiences and communicating the spiritual encounters, but I will do my best. I apologize ahead of time because I already know that this blog post will be lengthy.
Day 1: I had a FDP for my management class to a Fair Trade Shop in Chennai. It wasn’t scheduled until 1pm so I spent the morning working out, having lunch, and packing. Getting out of the port in the buses in Chennai is a nightmare. The system that security has in place is incredibly ineffective and takes anywhere from 45 minutes to one hour and twenty minutes for big groups. They check each passport and each customs form and record it all for each individual person, one at a time. Most of the time security comes onto the buses and does it, instead of us getting off. The first time that we did this, we stopped for a while on railroad tracks. Sure enough, in the middle of the process, a train came roaring from around the corner and had to come to a halt in order to not hit us. This close call was very scary and our first taste of the lack of systems and organization that the country has in place. Looking out the window on our drive to the shop was a good first taste and was the first step in this culture shock. Seeing the mass amounts of people and cows roam the street was unnerving, almost as much so as the traffic. Buses of all sizes, bicycles, trucks, motorcycles, cars, auto rickshaws and bike rickshaws all push and nudge their way forward at any opportunity. There is almost no space in between different modes of transportation, lending a feeling that everyone is in a hurry. This constant rush hour affected every sense, stirring up massive amounts of dust and keeping everyone on edge with the constant horns. The horns were all different sounds and never-ending, acting as turn indicators. Drivers’ hands remained on their horns in an effort to push forward and show their presence and intentions on the road. Indian drivers only look forward, never to the side or in their rear-view mirror because they all look out for each other. Their only responsibility is what’s in front of them, which in fact keeps everyone safe because there is effectively always someone that you’re in front of. Our bus dropped us off on the side of a road at the entrance to a large alley, or narrow dirt road. Whatever it was, our group walked down it, still in awe of what was around us. The alley was lined with people of all ages, sitting and staring at us. They were clearly discussing our presence and equally as amazed as we were. Our complexions and home locations separated us but our differences in lifestyles defined the separation. Previous to our appearance, they had been living their daily lives, talking, eating, heading to work, washing clothes, and doing whatever else that maintained their existence. As we walked, they stared and waited for acknowledgement. Anytime I smiled, waved, or said “Hi” to an individual, it was genuinely reciprocated. They would never try and connect first, always waiting for us to make the first move. Their interaction with and respect for cows was apparent, as they walked up and down. Their bodies were covered in infected, oozing gashes and sores which attracted flies in mass quantities. Dogs ran through the streets, and we avoided them at all costs because of the rabies warnings. Apparently Indians consider dogs to be dirty and do not keep them as pets. On the other hand, cows are the holiest of creatures and looked at with much respect, more so than humans. Throughout India, no matter your income level, women wear bright colored saris or extravagant tunics with matching pants. Men, of course getting the easy option, wear jeans or pants with collared shirts. The Fair Trade shop offered us coconut water straight from the source and told us to remove our shoes, a general theme throughout India. They made different types of Indian jewelry, incense, and textiles, stressing dignity, sustainable development, workers’ rights, and fair tourism interaction. We met a 76-year-old woman who had had a large influence on fair and honorable business. She worked hard to become educated and ended up inducing many parts of various industries to change their ways. She was a Nobel Peace Price nominee and had even interacted with Ghandi. At the shop, I had my first Indian bathroom experience, which, to be honest, almost brought me to tears. I had heard that they would be gross but I had no idea. Growing up with a mother such as mine, who insists on washing your hands immediately after school and looks at never letting pants touch public floors as religion, I wasn’t ready for this. The bathroom was off of an office, and the floor was about two inches below the floor of the office room. This difference was made up by water. Keep in mind that I didn’t have shoes on. I was in awe at the depth of what I hoped was runoff from the sink. Squatting outside would have been a much better option but, at this point, I didn’t want to disrespect the nice woman who had showed it to me. I figured that since that was their normal routine, it couldn’t be that bad and embraced it. From then on during the trip, I was strangely comfortable with the level of grunge, dirt, and lack of hygiene. I am so glad that I did because had I not, I probably would have not shaken so many hands and hugged so many bodies, kissed a little boy, touched the Ganges, walked barefoot through temples, or ever used a restroom. This lack of disgust and level of comfort allowed me to be at ease and connect to the people and their everyday life on a deeper level.
We were running late leaving the shop, and traffic getting back significantly delayed our return. Along with a few others on the FDP, I had planned to attend the Welcome Ceremony, but we assumed that we wouldn’t make it because we got back to the port entrance an hour later than that bus was scheduled to leave. Good thing security was so slow! Those buses were still waiting in line, so we hopped out of ours and ran to meet the others. This transfer was indicative of what was to come in this country… rough transportation, nonstop itineraries, and what I like to call- rallying. The Welcome Ceremony was in a big, grass courtyard and consisted of a henna station, dinner, a stage with traditional Indian dancing, and shopping opportunities. I had a dinner that I didn’t enjoy too much. It was really spicy and I was a little nervous about getting sick. The tea and coffee was the best that I have ever had. I got the inside of my palm and wrist decorated with henna. The artists were three sisters and this was their business, their main gig being weddings. My favorite part about this night was talking with the Chennai University students that were there. I hung out with two 19-year-old boys for most of the night, comparing lifestyles and cultures. They told us how their university takes three years and they live at home while attending. After graduating, they all hoped to attend Graduate School in the US. I was really interested in learning that their weddings were typically 10 days to one month long and girls’ parents saved for years and years to pay for the monumental event. We discussed the difference between arranged and “love” marriages and how India was slowly transferring to the later. He talked about how oftentimes arranged marriages worked out better but that you had to be married to someone in your, sometimes constricting, caste. Those who lived in cities typically opt for a “love” marriage and only are arranged if they do not find someone by their late twenties. Talking with these kids was a great experience and taught me a lot about their daily life. Afterwards, we came back to the ship and packed.
Day 2:
I had signed up for a 4-day trip through SAS to Delhi, Agra and Varanasi. I packed one backpack for the whole time- Dad, you would be so proud. We left at 9am the second day and took a lengthy bus ride to the Chennai airport. I was extremely excited to start this journey, full of energy and looking forward to the next few days. I finished the books that I packed for the entire voyage by South Africa, underestimating the amount of down time on the ship, so I bought Superfreakonomics in the airport. It ended up being a great purchase because the introduction was about women in rural India and how ill off they are. The recent introduction of television has increased their quality of life more than any type of government intervention. It rained when we walked from the terminal to the plane, which made me miss Oregon a little bit. It was warm rain, which is clearly different but still made me feel connected. The plane looked exactly like an American one, except, surprisingly, cleaner. The only strange part was the immense fog that circulated inside, which came from the humidity outside, which made it difficult to see a few rows ahead of you. Upon reaching Delhi, our first stop was a Seik temple, which was where I had my biggest jaw-dropping moment, the first of many on this India trip. We covered our heads with small, orange triangular scarves and removed our shoes. Stepping through a pool of water in order to cleanse my feet, I walked into the grandeur marble building. The carpet was mustard yellow and the walls were gold and painted with various religious pictures. In the center of the one square giant room was the focal point. There was a stage that worshippers gathered around, decorated in metallic gold and incredibly bright colors. Three men were sitting off to the side playing traditional instruments, singing, and worshipping. The fluorescent pinks and blues was what made it so shocking to me. The entire thing looked so aggressive and pungent, and definitely what I would have considered to be tacky previous to this experience. The incredibly bright colors that you consider to be stereotypical of India but not actually what is presented in the country are real. The temples, saris, and decorations are brighter and shinier than you would expect. Indian people were all around the stage, face down and kissing the floor. They were clearly delving into a religious experience, one that meant a lot to them. The children that were there did not participate as children do in church in the US. They seemed to be affected and willing to be there. I asked our guide how often people visited the temple and he said it varies. I asked what the normal amount is and he responded anywhere from one to five times a day. Again, “varies” is very relative, depending on where you are. Afterwards, we went next door to a kitchen that is run on donations and supports the homeless and hungry. We walked around it in a circle, passing the various stations. When we passed the vegetable station, the man stirring the food, picked me out and motioned for me to come over. I stepped up on the platform and stirred the potato and cabbage mixture in the biggest wok I’ve ever seen. The spoon that stirred the mixture was about 5 feet tall and required some serious instruction. I’m not sure why Indians liked me so much on this trip but there was multiple times throughout the week where I was picked out of the group to do special things that no one else got to do. This was one of them and I will always remember it, along with the conversation that I had with the man afterwards. The street in front of the temple was not much different than most of the streets in India but, for some reason, it sticks out in my memory most. There were many disfigured people, especially children, begging. The scene in “Slumdog Millionaire” where children are mutilated in order to bring in bigger profits while begging continuously came to mind. There was a dog sitting a few feet away from our bus and a boy around fifteen walked by and kicked it, hard and square in the side, for no reason. It hurt to see that and really illustrated the hurt that many experience. There were a lot of Indians around him and they did not look surprised by this in the slightest. Afterwards, we went to a Hindu temple. Their main symbol is the swastika, and I’m still not sure why. It is printed everywhere and is very important to them. We discussed a few out of the millions of gods and again and marveled at the magnificent colors. On our way out, we caught the end of their evening ritual. The Hindus that were there at the time all stood in the entrance hallway and chanted to the music that was being made by the two men and one woman off to the side. One man was behind the gold railings and honoring the shrine by tossing a variety of religious artifacts around. The color orange is hugely religious to Hindus, so orange carnations are everywhere and used in every religious experience. We left the temple and made our way back to the hotel. I had been sitting next to a man named John, a life long learner who is probably about seventy-five, from Phoenix. He has been to over 100 countries, and to his favorite, Antarctica, six times. He decided with his wife after graduating from UCLA not to have children so that they could travel as much as possible. Anyways, he took a liking to me and would give me little gifts throughout the trip and always ask my opinion about various cultural issues. My first gift was a book that had a section on India, and in specific Varanasi. I set down Superfreakonomics to read this book, which discussed a lot of what we had been seeing. One section in particular talked about the driving and talked about how, in India, all you need is “a good horn, good brakes, and good luck”. Our tour guide repeated this exact phrase and I showed him the passage in the book. He went on to say that when it comes to driving, when you speak the same language, you understand. If it were more organized, accidents would be far more prevalent. Yellow lights indicate to “look”, not to “slow”, as they do in America. We arrived at our hotel, the Ashok, which was 5 Star. One thing that you can count on with Semester at Sea trips is that the accommodations will be nice. This was originally a con for me, and still is a little bit, because it does seem to take a little of the authenticity out of the experience. However, after travelling all day, I was not complaining about having food that wouldn’t get me sick and a comfortable bed. Our dinner was a delicious buffet that gave me a better taste of Indian food than the Welcome Reception had. The next morning was an early wakeup call so Lauren and I made our way back to our room (complete with turn down service and free slippers).
Day 3: We woke up at 4:15 and met in the lobby at 4:45. Our packed box breakfasts had a few questionable items so I traded many of them for the hardboiled eggs. I had eight by the end of my trading but only ate five because a few were discolored. We got to the train station, hopped on the Shatabdi Express, and made our way to car C10. The station was a very dirty and sad place. Witnessing all the poverty in the form of the sleeping homeless being swarmed with gnats and mosquitoes was a visual that will be with me for a very long time. I had packed a sleeping mask and earplugs so I slept for most of the time. We arrived and made our way to the Taj Mahal. Upon arriving, we cut the line of the hundreds of Indians waiting for hours to enter. This was another instance where my complexion made me very uncomfortable. I didn’t like how we were just assumed to be impatient Americans and I would have rather have waited in line. I feel like a lot of big, worldly sights can be disappointing because they are built up so much before visiting. I was a bit disappointed in the Eiffel Tower so I half-expected to have a similar response. The Taj Mahal was everything that I expected, and more. A Mughal Emperor, in memory of his wife, built the Taj. What an amazing present, eh? I’d take one of the New Seven Wonders of the World over diamonds any day. We walked around and took a bunch of pictures. A lot of Indians approached us and asked to take pictures with us. By the end, it was a little annoying because they would just stand in lines and not take no for an answer. We must have posed for over 50 with them. On the walk from the Taj to our bus, the streets were lined with monkeys. I had just bought an ice cream and was walking down the street when one started to approach me. Monkeys are one of the lead carriers of rabies so we know to keep a safe distance. I hurried away, making my way through a big group of people. It ran after to me and someone yelled at me to drop my ice cream just before it got to me. Somehow it had not occurred to me that this was why it was after me. It was a very scary and a very close call. I threw down the dessert just in time and realized immediately that death by monkey would be one of the worst ways to go. After the Taj, we made our way to the Agra Fort, which I regret not getting as much as possible out of. I was so hot and tired and overwhelmed by the Taj that I didn’t walk and explore the whole thing, remaining in the shade. The architecture was magnificent but by this time, we were exhausted. After the Agra Fort, we headed to lunch at a hotel, another extensive buffet. The hotel had made shirts that had a picture of the Taj Mahal on the front and “Welcome Semester at Sea” written on the back. They really knew how to capitalize on us. Afterwards, we headed to Fatehpur Sikri, a red sandstone deserted city in honor of a Muslim Saint. It was pretty far off the road and there were not many tourists there at all. There were, in fact, about thirty elementary kids in school uniforms hanging out there. We talked with them for a little while until one of them grabbed me and pulled me away from the SAS kids, gave me a pen, and asked me to sign their hand. She shouted something to the rest of them and I was promptly mobbed and made to sign my name on thirty kids palms. (A bunch of people took pictures and videos of this). Apparently, they thought that I was an actress in a movie that they had recently seen. I’m afraid that they’ll be disappointed if and when they compare my signature to whatever actress’ name they thought that I was. On the walk back to the bus, I made a friend named Peter. He was initially haggling me to buy souvenirs but I ended up talking to him for the entire walk back. He spoke English, Hindu, French, Spanish, and Italian. The cynicism in me thinks that he might have just learned one phrase in each in order to impress tourists and induce heightened prices for whatever he was selling. Nevertheless, I bought in and talked to him about his hopes for the future. I ended up buying a package of jeweled pens for 100 rupees ($2) and gave him one US dollar as a souvenir. I got back on the bus, found a few little candies from the hotel and hurried back out to give them to him. He hugged me and told me that I was the best US friend he ever had and asked for a kiss. Of course, I kissed him on the cheek. He was SUCH a cute little boy and I hope that one day he gets to come to America to satisfy his fascination. On this bus ride, I saw out the window a dog that looked exactly like Possum at home. This was so rare because all of the other dogs are skinny labs or like the dogs that you see in Mexico. It was a beautiful Border Collie, same coat and markings, with little dirt and scratches. It made me miss my puppy at home and made me realize that this was the farthest away from home I felt. I was exactly 12 ½ hours around the world (India time zones are broken up by ½ hours). Halfway around the world and I finally truly felt far, far away. On a ship, it feels like we are remaining stagnant and the places are coming to us. India felt other-worldly and even though it made me a little sad, I enjoyed the sentiment. Café Yumm in Eugene and Balboa Island in Newport now seem like they’re from another life. It’s easy to say but difficult to feel and I’m just now feeling the great distance. Now, when I’m traveling through countries and I want to get home, I think of the ship and my comfy cabin as home. Our train from Agra back to Delhi was delayed so we stopped at a few stores. The first was a rug factory that had a variety of other high-quality goods. The second was mainly textiles, jewelry, and spices. (Tiff- I almost bought you a bunch of cooking spices but apparently they were stale and wouldn’t be good.) I tried to bargain for tea but I think that I offended him because after we agreed to a price, he asked me to leave his store. Apparently I didn’t realize the value of what he was selling. We had Pizza Hut and got back on the train to our hotel. This day seemed like it lasted for weeks. On the train back, I slept for about twenty minutes (during which, I slept talked a lot, apparently) and then was wide-awake thinking over the events of the day. It is a bizarre sensation when your body is beyond tired but your mind is spinning so that sleep is not even an option. We made it back to the hotel and got a few hours of sleep before the next day.
Day 4: We made our way to the airport where we took a plane to Varanasi. We immediately drove to the hotel where we would be staying that night, the Ramada, to have lunch. It was again very nice and lunch was incredible. Every sit-down meal I had in all of India was buffet-style. Afterwards, we went outside of Varanasi to Sarnath, an area that houses an archeological museum, a Buddhist temple, and remains of an ancient monastery. A few girls and I were not so excited to take tours so we checked out of the group setting and walked around. We went in the Buddhist temple (where Buddha preached his first sermon) and walked around the ancient remains. The remains were extensive and very interesting to see. Afterwards, we still had a bunch of time so we walked around and talked with locals and bought a few knickknacks. I only had 5 rupees (approximately 10 cents) and that would only buy me one item that one stand offered. I told him that I wasn’t interested in that one and I just gave him the 5R donation. He was very offended and gave it back to me and asked me to go buy chips a few stands over. This was a cool experience because it was my first sense of how they truly value the act of exchange and how they wanted to stimulate their economy (even if he didn’t realize what he was doing). Another thing that really struck me here, even though we had seen it many times before, was witnessing a ten-year-old girl begging, holding an infant that couldn’t have been more than six months old. The baby looked drugged and was being held in the worst, most uncomfortable way. It was so sad and really made me think about how that child had no say in where or in what circumstances she was born into. We made our way back to the hotel for our earliest night yet to shower and have dinner. Lauren and I broke off from the group and ate with some lifelong learners, an adorable couple that I grew to love. Bud and Martha, 76-years-olds and from New Orleans, were widows that married ten years ago. They discussed each of their grandchildren in depth and told fantastic stories. I was in awe of how they were keeping up with this tough itinerary when 20-year-olds were so tired. At the end of the itinery printed before signing up, there was a warning about how it was action-packed and rigorous travel. I love the fact that that did not deter them almost as much as their apparent gumption for life and hope to hang out with them more on the ship. Afterwards, we joined our friends at another table. Chelsea is a good friend of mine on the ship and her aunt had joined us in India. She was doing the same SAS trip so she came everywhere with us. She travels a lot and discussed the magnitude of this trip with us, highlighting that it would not fully impact us for years to come. I really enjoyed hearing her perspective at this point of the trip. Afterwards, 6 out of the group of 40 went to the hotel bar. I could not believe that we were about to drink and party after being up for so many hours and having to wake up at 4am. When in INDIA! We drank and hung out with the bartenders (Fahad will always hold a special place in my heart… we discussed Britney Spears for a good twenty minutes). Around 11:30, when the reasonable decision was to go to bed, we decided that this was not the trip nor the location to be reasonable. We decided to change and make the most of the night. Five of us rallied like we never had in our lives, walked out of the hotel and rented two bicycle rickshaws. There is nothing like riding through Varanasi, India in the middle of the night knowing you have to wake up in four hours. Admittedly, I was pretty scared and was not thinking that it was a good idea at all but we were with guys and, in the end, I knew it would be an amazing experience. Earlier in the day I had ran into my friend Austin who had told me his room number at a different hotel. We somehow saw that hotel and went in, woke them up, ordered way too many drinks, and partied in his hotel room. After breaking a few bottles and making a lot of enemies in the rooms surrounding us, we sleepily headed back to the Ramada and got in an hour nap before waking up for the Ganges!
Day 5: Anybody in their right mind would be comatose after the past few days and night we had, and everybody else was. For some reason, this trip has 360ed me. I have never been great about running off so little sleep. I get cranky and am not one to rally without a solid nap. Not here, for some reason. Most were sleepy and inhaling coffee, as anyone in their right mind should be. I, on the other hand, was singing and taking pictures and just loving life. Still drunk? Probably. Slap happy? Absolutely. In India? Hell yeah. We made our way to the Ganges for their morning ceremony, which was my favorite experience in India, and the entire voyage thus far. I’m not going to try and fully describe what this was like, because I think that pictures will do a better job. Even still, the Ganges is a place that will never be understood until visited. It is the holiest location for Hindus. Some come every morning to bathe and some come only to cremate their loved ones. It is lined with Ghats which look like they are hundreds and hundreds of years old. They are actually fairly new and rebuilt often because they deteriorate so quickly, but knowing that takes something away from their impact. The shore is lined with people submerging themselves in the river, for both hygienic and spiritual reasons. Hundreds of boats are tied up and concrete bathing facilities are always in use. We motored upriver and then floated back downriver, all the while in awe of what was going on around us. There was a little girl on our boat who was selling orange flowers and candles for us to put in the river as a Hindu honor. The girl told us that she lives with her parents, 3 siblings, two grandmothers, one grandfather, and one aunt (10 people) in a one-room house. On the shores of the river, people were being cremated and ashes were thrown in the river. The most holy way that a Hindu person can be remembered is to be cremated and put in the Ganges river. If a pregnant woman, child, cow, or holy authority dies, they will not be cremated. Instead, they will be taken to the center and weights will be tied to them to sink the body. Seeing the fires on the shore was a very real experience that I will always remember. On the way back to the bus, we had a long walk through an alley that we did not walk through on the way there. It was narrow, about three people shoulder width apart. The smells were foul and overwhelming but nowhere near as overpowering as the sights we witnessed. We were constantly being shoved and stepped on by the Indians living in this slum, who were making their way through. As we combed through the dark, filthy alley, we were haggled by relentless merchants, shouted at, and gawked at. Tourists clearly did not visit here. At one point, we brushed up against a corpse being brought down to the Ganges. At this point, an Asian SASer took out his camera and snapped a ton of pictures of it. I have truly never been more ashamed of being American. It was such an obvious display of ignorance and disrespect. I snapped at him and he stopped, but he will never be forgiven in my mind. The emotional reaction that the Indian woman had when viewing his behavior proved that what he did was unforgiveable. One merchant would not leave me alone and insisted on me buying a do-it-yourself body art set. I didn’t want to buy one but he would not leave me alone for the duration, about thirty minutes. Upon reaching the bus, he offered to give it to me for a kiss. I was frazzled, distraught, and disturbed and I refused. This walk was one of the hardest things that I’ve ever had to do and I had tears on the way home. There’s no way to fully describe that experience and I don’t have any pictures from it but it will never be forgotten. We made our way back to the hotel and I said goodbye to Fahad. We got to the Varanasi Airport and took the flight to Delhi, where we had a long layover. We went to a café where we got lunch, amazing mochas, and coffee cake. We were drained from the day but the coffee and cake gave us tons of energy. A few of us went upstairs to the bar/gentlemen’s club before going back to the terminal. Once inside, my group of friends randomly started dancing in the middle of the airport. We were so tired but so in love with our lives and at the time, it seemed appropriate. The ten of us were doing the various dances we had learned in Ghana, South Africa, and India and jumping up and down. This was a moment that is still very much with me. When would we ever be in Delhi, dancing in the middle of an airport for a half hour, waiting for a flight with great friends? The rest of SASers from our trip, along with throbs of Indians stared, laughed, and took pictures and videos. We got on the second flight back to Chennai. This was our last transport and I hoped that maybe I would get some sleep on this last trip but, of course, I was wide-awake the entire time. We got back to the ship around 10. I got ready to go out but at the last minute decided that my body would probably shut down so I went to bed.
Day 6: I woke up and had a few hours before leaving for the orphanage visit I had scheduled. I probably could have and should have gone out and explored Chennai a little bit but security is such a hassle and I decided that I would instead take the time to get organized, relax, and work out. We left on the orphanage visit at noon. When we stepped outside, I had a strange realization. This was by far the hottest, most humid heat that I had ever been in and I was strangely accepting of it. We headed to the orphanage and immediately were led inside by elementary age kids. I was in awe of how cute these kids are. Was it a publicity stunt? Do they only let the attractive and charismatic ones interact with visitors in order to create superficial bonds and funding? It was a horrible thought but definitely crossed my mind. By the end, I knew that that was not true but that the kids were just that adorable. They made every effort to speak English and interact with us. Barely anyone asked for anything; they were just excited to receive. A lot of SAS kids (myself not included, for which I regretted instantly) brought bags of coloring books, toys, crayons, etc. We colored in coloring books and played with cameras. They LOVE to take pictures and then turn it around to see the product; this never got old. A few of the older Indian girls performed a rehearsed dance and then, to our surprise, expected one in return. A few of us got up and did the maccarena, and a few others. They seemed extremely unimpressed until the hokie pokie, which they recognized and promptly joined in. We played for a few hours, meeting new kids and moving from room to room. The entire time, one girl stuck by my side. Devida is one of the cutest, most talented little girls I have ever encountered. She was initially very shy but after a little while, very friendly. She participated in some of the songs and dances and was incredibly attentive. She drew pictures outside with chalk that were incredible. The most impressive thing was her tact and class; she wasn’t pushy when it came to getting gifts and was massively polite when it came to asking to use the camera. I feel like she was my younger sister or daughter and I’m so excited to show off pictures of her. To those of you that said I would fall in love with some guy from the Midwest on the ship- you were wrong. I fell in love with a little girl named Devida in an Indian orphanage. When leaving, we hugged for a long time and she just kept saying “Best friends. Friends strong. You and I are friends” over and over in every different way possible. We had to be torn apart. I left my extra rupees with the orphanage in a hope that in some way it will enhance the life of this little girl or ones like her.
India was, in a way, nothing at all what I expected. In another, it was everything that I expected and more. It wasn’t dirty in the way that we heard. I don’t have to throw away my clothes and I wasn’t upset by the filth. Instead, I feel so bad for the people that I met and for those I didn’t that these are their standards. They are used to throwing all trash on the floor and regarding the rare trash can as superfluous. Children are raised from a young age that this is okay- it is their culture. Putting your banana peel on your classroom floor after lunch is the norm. If this is what is normal, where is the hope for clean streets? The amount of open sores on people and the disfigurement affected me in ways that it hasn’t when I have seen it in the US. It is so shocking when you see it in mass amounts of people, I think, because there is a greater chance that it would have been your reality had you lived here. India is truly the land of contrast. The wealth and poverty live simultaneously and the opposite ends of the spectrum are so extreme that it appears as if no one is in the middle. A woman with a removed nose and small drop of puss in place of an eye, begging, lives outside of the apartment building of a family who spends equal to 10 million US (this is not an exaggeration) on their wedding. In classes back home, the role of women is visited over and over and their unfortunate situations are re-examined often. However, I have never felt it more than here. Everything about being a woman is so drastically worse than being a man in this country. Discipline and beating from your husband is a regular occurrence for some, mainly in rural India. The orphanage was 90% girls because parents leave them in trash cans and on train tracks. The same parents’ sons are their pride and joy. Pregnant mothers are starting to have ultra sounds- not to search for health issues, but to see the sex of her baby in order to decide whether to abort or not. Our tour guide mentioned a few times that India was the largest English speaking country in the world. This is true solely because of their immense size. The population is hard to fathom and because of it, there are more English speakers in India than the US. After returning to the ship and talking with a lot of other kids, I have found that a lot of people did not have the same emotional and moving experience that I did. I don’t think that I would have had I not gone to Varanasi, but the country as a whole truly changed my views. Varanasi did it for me because of how authentic it was. They were not used to white people, at all. A lot of homestays in Ghana or South Africa provided an opportunity for kids to go to villages and stay with families. Although this is very authentic, the families prepare for you. You aren’t merely dropped into their lives without notice. It didn’t make a difference to them that we were there or not. They went on with their lives, which are so different than ours, and this candid experience is why I was blown away and am still reeling. Today is our first day back on the ship and I’m emotionally and physically drained. I’m sure than I forgot a lot but this is long enough. India is somewhere that I really want to come back to. It’s not a vacation type of place, but a place to go to when you really want to think and be violently thrown out of your comfort zone. Next stop: MALAYSIA!!
In my mind, I expected dusty, busy cities with a lot of poverty and some belly dancing. What I got was six days that seemed like two weeks that changed my life. It was dirty, but not as bad as we were told. The poverty was mind blowing and everywhere. It really made me realize and empathize the difference of lifestyles, rather than just acknowledging the chiasm. I know that I’m going to have a hard time recalling all of the experiences and communicating the spiritual encounters, but I will do my best. I apologize ahead of time because I already know that this blog post will be lengthy.
Day 1: I had a FDP for my management class to a Fair Trade Shop in Chennai. It wasn’t scheduled until 1pm so I spent the morning working out, having lunch, and packing. Getting out of the port in the buses in Chennai is a nightmare. The system that security has in place is incredibly ineffective and takes anywhere from 45 minutes to one hour and twenty minutes for big groups. They check each passport and each customs form and record it all for each individual person, one at a time. Most of the time security comes onto the buses and does it, instead of us getting off. The first time that we did this, we stopped for a while on railroad tracks. Sure enough, in the middle of the process, a train came roaring from around the corner and had to come to a halt in order to not hit us. This close call was very scary and our first taste of the lack of systems and organization that the country has in place. Looking out the window on our drive to the shop was a good first taste and was the first step in this culture shock. Seeing the mass amounts of people and cows roam the street was unnerving, almost as much so as the traffic. Buses of all sizes, bicycles, trucks, motorcycles, cars, auto rickshaws and bike rickshaws all push and nudge their way forward at any opportunity. There is almost no space in between different modes of transportation, lending a feeling that everyone is in a hurry. This constant rush hour affected every sense, stirring up massive amounts of dust and keeping everyone on edge with the constant horns. The horns were all different sounds and never-ending, acting as turn indicators. Drivers’ hands remained on their horns in an effort to push forward and show their presence and intentions on the road. Indian drivers only look forward, never to the side or in their rear-view mirror because they all look out for each other. Their only responsibility is what’s in front of them, which in fact keeps everyone safe because there is effectively always someone that you’re in front of. Our bus dropped us off on the side of a road at the entrance to a large alley, or narrow dirt road. Whatever it was, our group walked down it, still in awe of what was around us. The alley was lined with people of all ages, sitting and staring at us. They were clearly discussing our presence and equally as amazed as we were. Our complexions and home locations separated us but our differences in lifestyles defined the separation. Previous to our appearance, they had been living their daily lives, talking, eating, heading to work, washing clothes, and doing whatever else that maintained their existence. As we walked, they stared and waited for acknowledgement. Anytime I smiled, waved, or said “Hi” to an individual, it was genuinely reciprocated. They would never try and connect first, always waiting for us to make the first move. Their interaction with and respect for cows was apparent, as they walked up and down. Their bodies were covered in infected, oozing gashes and sores which attracted flies in mass quantities. Dogs ran through the streets, and we avoided them at all costs because of the rabies warnings. Apparently Indians consider dogs to be dirty and do not keep them as pets. On the other hand, cows are the holiest of creatures and looked at with much respect, more so than humans. Throughout India, no matter your income level, women wear bright colored saris or extravagant tunics with matching pants. Men, of course getting the easy option, wear jeans or pants with collared shirts. The Fair Trade shop offered us coconut water straight from the source and told us to remove our shoes, a general theme throughout India. They made different types of Indian jewelry, incense, and textiles, stressing dignity, sustainable development, workers’ rights, and fair tourism interaction. We met a 76-year-old woman who had had a large influence on fair and honorable business. She worked hard to become educated and ended up inducing many parts of various industries to change their ways. She was a Nobel Peace Price nominee and had even interacted with Ghandi. At the shop, I had my first Indian bathroom experience, which, to be honest, almost brought me to tears. I had heard that they would be gross but I had no idea. Growing up with a mother such as mine, who insists on washing your hands immediately after school and looks at never letting pants touch public floors as religion, I wasn’t ready for this. The bathroom was off of an office, and the floor was about two inches below the floor of the office room. This difference was made up by water. Keep in mind that I didn’t have shoes on. I was in awe at the depth of what I hoped was runoff from the sink. Squatting outside would have been a much better option but, at this point, I didn’t want to disrespect the nice woman who had showed it to me. I figured that since that was their normal routine, it couldn’t be that bad and embraced it. From then on during the trip, I was strangely comfortable with the level of grunge, dirt, and lack of hygiene. I am so glad that I did because had I not, I probably would have not shaken so many hands and hugged so many bodies, kissed a little boy, touched the Ganges, walked barefoot through temples, or ever used a restroom. This lack of disgust and level of comfort allowed me to be at ease and connect to the people and their everyday life on a deeper level.
We were running late leaving the shop, and traffic getting back significantly delayed our return. Along with a few others on the FDP, I had planned to attend the Welcome Ceremony, but we assumed that we wouldn’t make it because we got back to the port entrance an hour later than that bus was scheduled to leave. Good thing security was so slow! Those buses were still waiting in line, so we hopped out of ours and ran to meet the others. This transfer was indicative of what was to come in this country… rough transportation, nonstop itineraries, and what I like to call- rallying. The Welcome Ceremony was in a big, grass courtyard and consisted of a henna station, dinner, a stage with traditional Indian dancing, and shopping opportunities. I had a dinner that I didn’t enjoy too much. It was really spicy and I was a little nervous about getting sick. The tea and coffee was the best that I have ever had. I got the inside of my palm and wrist decorated with henna. The artists were three sisters and this was their business, their main gig being weddings. My favorite part about this night was talking with the Chennai University students that were there. I hung out with two 19-year-old boys for most of the night, comparing lifestyles and cultures. They told us how their university takes three years and they live at home while attending. After graduating, they all hoped to attend Graduate School in the US. I was really interested in learning that their weddings were typically 10 days to one month long and girls’ parents saved for years and years to pay for the monumental event. We discussed the difference between arranged and “love” marriages and how India was slowly transferring to the later. He talked about how oftentimes arranged marriages worked out better but that you had to be married to someone in your, sometimes constricting, caste. Those who lived in cities typically opt for a “love” marriage and only are arranged if they do not find someone by their late twenties. Talking with these kids was a great experience and taught me a lot about their daily life. Afterwards, we came back to the ship and packed.
Day 2:
I had signed up for a 4-day trip through SAS to Delhi, Agra and Varanasi. I packed one backpack for the whole time- Dad, you would be so proud. We left at 9am the second day and took a lengthy bus ride to the Chennai airport. I was extremely excited to start this journey, full of energy and looking forward to the next few days. I finished the books that I packed for the entire voyage by South Africa, underestimating the amount of down time on the ship, so I bought Superfreakonomics in the airport. It ended up being a great purchase because the introduction was about women in rural India and how ill off they are. The recent introduction of television has increased their quality of life more than any type of government intervention. It rained when we walked from the terminal to the plane, which made me miss Oregon a little bit. It was warm rain, which is clearly different but still made me feel connected. The plane looked exactly like an American one, except, surprisingly, cleaner. The only strange part was the immense fog that circulated inside, which came from the humidity outside, which made it difficult to see a few rows ahead of you. Upon reaching Delhi, our first stop was a Seik temple, which was where I had my biggest jaw-dropping moment, the first of many on this India trip. We covered our heads with small, orange triangular scarves and removed our shoes. Stepping through a pool of water in order to cleanse my feet, I walked into the grandeur marble building. The carpet was mustard yellow and the walls were gold and painted with various religious pictures. In the center of the one square giant room was the focal point. There was a stage that worshippers gathered around, decorated in metallic gold and incredibly bright colors. Three men were sitting off to the side playing traditional instruments, singing, and worshipping. The fluorescent pinks and blues was what made it so shocking to me. The entire thing looked so aggressive and pungent, and definitely what I would have considered to be tacky previous to this experience. The incredibly bright colors that you consider to be stereotypical of India but not actually what is presented in the country are real. The temples, saris, and decorations are brighter and shinier than you would expect. Indian people were all around the stage, face down and kissing the floor. They were clearly delving into a religious experience, one that meant a lot to them. The children that were there did not participate as children do in church in the US. They seemed to be affected and willing to be there. I asked our guide how often people visited the temple and he said it varies. I asked what the normal amount is and he responded anywhere from one to five times a day. Again, “varies” is very relative, depending on where you are. Afterwards, we went next door to a kitchen that is run on donations and supports the homeless and hungry. We walked around it in a circle, passing the various stations. When we passed the vegetable station, the man stirring the food, picked me out and motioned for me to come over. I stepped up on the platform and stirred the potato and cabbage mixture in the biggest wok I’ve ever seen. The spoon that stirred the mixture was about 5 feet tall and required some serious instruction. I’m not sure why Indians liked me so much on this trip but there was multiple times throughout the week where I was picked out of the group to do special things that no one else got to do. This was one of them and I will always remember it, along with the conversation that I had with the man afterwards. The street in front of the temple was not much different than most of the streets in India but, for some reason, it sticks out in my memory most. There were many disfigured people, especially children, begging. The scene in “Slumdog Millionaire” where children are mutilated in order to bring in bigger profits while begging continuously came to mind. There was a dog sitting a few feet away from our bus and a boy around fifteen walked by and kicked it, hard and square in the side, for no reason. It hurt to see that and really illustrated the hurt that many experience. There were a lot of Indians around him and they did not look surprised by this in the slightest. Afterwards, we went to a Hindu temple. Their main symbol is the swastika, and I’m still not sure why. It is printed everywhere and is very important to them. We discussed a few out of the millions of gods and again and marveled at the magnificent colors. On our way out, we caught the end of their evening ritual. The Hindus that were there at the time all stood in the entrance hallway and chanted to the music that was being made by the two men and one woman off to the side. One man was behind the gold railings and honoring the shrine by tossing a variety of religious artifacts around. The color orange is hugely religious to Hindus, so orange carnations are everywhere and used in every religious experience. We left the temple and made our way back to the hotel. I had been sitting next to a man named John, a life long learner who is probably about seventy-five, from Phoenix. He has been to over 100 countries, and to his favorite, Antarctica, six times. He decided with his wife after graduating from UCLA not to have children so that they could travel as much as possible. Anyways, he took a liking to me and would give me little gifts throughout the trip and always ask my opinion about various cultural issues. My first gift was a book that had a section on India, and in specific Varanasi. I set down Superfreakonomics to read this book, which discussed a lot of what we had been seeing. One section in particular talked about the driving and talked about how, in India, all you need is “a good horn, good brakes, and good luck”. Our tour guide repeated this exact phrase and I showed him the passage in the book. He went on to say that when it comes to driving, when you speak the same language, you understand. If it were more organized, accidents would be far more prevalent. Yellow lights indicate to “look”, not to “slow”, as they do in America. We arrived at our hotel, the Ashok, which was 5 Star. One thing that you can count on with Semester at Sea trips is that the accommodations will be nice. This was originally a con for me, and still is a little bit, because it does seem to take a little of the authenticity out of the experience. However, after travelling all day, I was not complaining about having food that wouldn’t get me sick and a comfortable bed. Our dinner was a delicious buffet that gave me a better taste of Indian food than the Welcome Reception had. The next morning was an early wakeup call so Lauren and I made our way back to our room (complete with turn down service and free slippers).
Day 3: We woke up at 4:15 and met in the lobby at 4:45. Our packed box breakfasts had a few questionable items so I traded many of them for the hardboiled eggs. I had eight by the end of my trading but only ate five because a few were discolored. We got to the train station, hopped on the Shatabdi Express, and made our way to car C10. The station was a very dirty and sad place. Witnessing all the poverty in the form of the sleeping homeless being swarmed with gnats and mosquitoes was a visual that will be with me for a very long time. I had packed a sleeping mask and earplugs so I slept for most of the time. We arrived and made our way to the Taj Mahal. Upon arriving, we cut the line of the hundreds of Indians waiting for hours to enter. This was another instance where my complexion made me very uncomfortable. I didn’t like how we were just assumed to be impatient Americans and I would have rather have waited in line. I feel like a lot of big, worldly sights can be disappointing because they are built up so much before visiting. I was a bit disappointed in the Eiffel Tower so I half-expected to have a similar response. The Taj Mahal was everything that I expected, and more. A Mughal Emperor, in memory of his wife, built the Taj. What an amazing present, eh? I’d take one of the New Seven Wonders of the World over diamonds any day. We walked around and took a bunch of pictures. A lot of Indians approached us and asked to take pictures with us. By the end, it was a little annoying because they would just stand in lines and not take no for an answer. We must have posed for over 50 with them. On the walk from the Taj to our bus, the streets were lined with monkeys. I had just bought an ice cream and was walking down the street when one started to approach me. Monkeys are one of the lead carriers of rabies so we know to keep a safe distance. I hurried away, making my way through a big group of people. It ran after to me and someone yelled at me to drop my ice cream just before it got to me. Somehow it had not occurred to me that this was why it was after me. It was a very scary and a very close call. I threw down the dessert just in time and realized immediately that death by monkey would be one of the worst ways to go. After the Taj, we made our way to the Agra Fort, which I regret not getting as much as possible out of. I was so hot and tired and overwhelmed by the Taj that I didn’t walk and explore the whole thing, remaining in the shade. The architecture was magnificent but by this time, we were exhausted. After the Agra Fort, we headed to lunch at a hotel, another extensive buffet. The hotel had made shirts that had a picture of the Taj Mahal on the front and “Welcome Semester at Sea” written on the back. They really knew how to capitalize on us. Afterwards, we headed to Fatehpur Sikri, a red sandstone deserted city in honor of a Muslim Saint. It was pretty far off the road and there were not many tourists there at all. There were, in fact, about thirty elementary kids in school uniforms hanging out there. We talked with them for a little while until one of them grabbed me and pulled me away from the SAS kids, gave me a pen, and asked me to sign their hand. She shouted something to the rest of them and I was promptly mobbed and made to sign my name on thirty kids palms. (A bunch of people took pictures and videos of this). Apparently, they thought that I was an actress in a movie that they had recently seen. I’m afraid that they’ll be disappointed if and when they compare my signature to whatever actress’ name they thought that I was. On the walk back to the bus, I made a friend named Peter. He was initially haggling me to buy souvenirs but I ended up talking to him for the entire walk back. He spoke English, Hindu, French, Spanish, and Italian. The cynicism in me thinks that he might have just learned one phrase in each in order to impress tourists and induce heightened prices for whatever he was selling. Nevertheless, I bought in and talked to him about his hopes for the future. I ended up buying a package of jeweled pens for 100 rupees ($2) and gave him one US dollar as a souvenir. I got back on the bus, found a few little candies from the hotel and hurried back out to give them to him. He hugged me and told me that I was the best US friend he ever had and asked for a kiss. Of course, I kissed him on the cheek. He was SUCH a cute little boy and I hope that one day he gets to come to America to satisfy his fascination. On this bus ride, I saw out the window a dog that looked exactly like Possum at home. This was so rare because all of the other dogs are skinny labs or like the dogs that you see in Mexico. It was a beautiful Border Collie, same coat and markings, with little dirt and scratches. It made me miss my puppy at home and made me realize that this was the farthest away from home I felt. I was exactly 12 ½ hours around the world (India time zones are broken up by ½ hours). Halfway around the world and I finally truly felt far, far away. On a ship, it feels like we are remaining stagnant and the places are coming to us. India felt other-worldly and even though it made me a little sad, I enjoyed the sentiment. Café Yumm in Eugene and Balboa Island in Newport now seem like they’re from another life. It’s easy to say but difficult to feel and I’m just now feeling the great distance. Now, when I’m traveling through countries and I want to get home, I think of the ship and my comfy cabin as home. Our train from Agra back to Delhi was delayed so we stopped at a few stores. The first was a rug factory that had a variety of other high-quality goods. The second was mainly textiles, jewelry, and spices. (Tiff- I almost bought you a bunch of cooking spices but apparently they were stale and wouldn’t be good.) I tried to bargain for tea but I think that I offended him because after we agreed to a price, he asked me to leave his store. Apparently I didn’t realize the value of what he was selling. We had Pizza Hut and got back on the train to our hotel. This day seemed like it lasted for weeks. On the train back, I slept for about twenty minutes (during which, I slept talked a lot, apparently) and then was wide-awake thinking over the events of the day. It is a bizarre sensation when your body is beyond tired but your mind is spinning so that sleep is not even an option. We made it back to the hotel and got a few hours of sleep before the next day.
Day 4: We made our way to the airport where we took a plane to Varanasi. We immediately drove to the hotel where we would be staying that night, the Ramada, to have lunch. It was again very nice and lunch was incredible. Every sit-down meal I had in all of India was buffet-style. Afterwards, we went outside of Varanasi to Sarnath, an area that houses an archeological museum, a Buddhist temple, and remains of an ancient monastery. A few girls and I were not so excited to take tours so we checked out of the group setting and walked around. We went in the Buddhist temple (where Buddha preached his first sermon) and walked around the ancient remains. The remains were extensive and very interesting to see. Afterwards, we still had a bunch of time so we walked around and talked with locals and bought a few knickknacks. I only had 5 rupees (approximately 10 cents) and that would only buy me one item that one stand offered. I told him that I wasn’t interested in that one and I just gave him the 5R donation. He was very offended and gave it back to me and asked me to go buy chips a few stands over. This was a cool experience because it was my first sense of how they truly value the act of exchange and how they wanted to stimulate their economy (even if he didn’t realize what he was doing). Another thing that really struck me here, even though we had seen it many times before, was witnessing a ten-year-old girl begging, holding an infant that couldn’t have been more than six months old. The baby looked drugged and was being held in the worst, most uncomfortable way. It was so sad and really made me think about how that child had no say in where or in what circumstances she was born into. We made our way back to the hotel for our earliest night yet to shower and have dinner. Lauren and I broke off from the group and ate with some lifelong learners, an adorable couple that I grew to love. Bud and Martha, 76-years-olds and from New Orleans, were widows that married ten years ago. They discussed each of their grandchildren in depth and told fantastic stories. I was in awe of how they were keeping up with this tough itinerary when 20-year-olds were so tired. At the end of the itinery printed before signing up, there was a warning about how it was action-packed and rigorous travel. I love the fact that that did not deter them almost as much as their apparent gumption for life and hope to hang out with them more on the ship. Afterwards, we joined our friends at another table. Chelsea is a good friend of mine on the ship and her aunt had joined us in India. She was doing the same SAS trip so she came everywhere with us. She travels a lot and discussed the magnitude of this trip with us, highlighting that it would not fully impact us for years to come. I really enjoyed hearing her perspective at this point of the trip. Afterwards, 6 out of the group of 40 went to the hotel bar. I could not believe that we were about to drink and party after being up for so many hours and having to wake up at 4am. When in INDIA! We drank and hung out with the bartenders (Fahad will always hold a special place in my heart… we discussed Britney Spears for a good twenty minutes). Around 11:30, when the reasonable decision was to go to bed, we decided that this was not the trip nor the location to be reasonable. We decided to change and make the most of the night. Five of us rallied like we never had in our lives, walked out of the hotel and rented two bicycle rickshaws. There is nothing like riding through Varanasi, India in the middle of the night knowing you have to wake up in four hours. Admittedly, I was pretty scared and was not thinking that it was a good idea at all but we were with guys and, in the end, I knew it would be an amazing experience. Earlier in the day I had ran into my friend Austin who had told me his room number at a different hotel. We somehow saw that hotel and went in, woke them up, ordered way too many drinks, and partied in his hotel room. After breaking a few bottles and making a lot of enemies in the rooms surrounding us, we sleepily headed back to the Ramada and got in an hour nap before waking up for the Ganges!
Day 5: Anybody in their right mind would be comatose after the past few days and night we had, and everybody else was. For some reason, this trip has 360ed me. I have never been great about running off so little sleep. I get cranky and am not one to rally without a solid nap. Not here, for some reason. Most were sleepy and inhaling coffee, as anyone in their right mind should be. I, on the other hand, was singing and taking pictures and just loving life. Still drunk? Probably. Slap happy? Absolutely. In India? Hell yeah. We made our way to the Ganges for their morning ceremony, which was my favorite experience in India, and the entire voyage thus far. I’m not going to try and fully describe what this was like, because I think that pictures will do a better job. Even still, the Ganges is a place that will never be understood until visited. It is the holiest location for Hindus. Some come every morning to bathe and some come only to cremate their loved ones. It is lined with Ghats which look like they are hundreds and hundreds of years old. They are actually fairly new and rebuilt often because they deteriorate so quickly, but knowing that takes something away from their impact. The shore is lined with people submerging themselves in the river, for both hygienic and spiritual reasons. Hundreds of boats are tied up and concrete bathing facilities are always in use. We motored upriver and then floated back downriver, all the while in awe of what was going on around us. There was a little girl on our boat who was selling orange flowers and candles for us to put in the river as a Hindu honor. The girl told us that she lives with her parents, 3 siblings, two grandmothers, one grandfather, and one aunt (10 people) in a one-room house. On the shores of the river, people were being cremated and ashes were thrown in the river. The most holy way that a Hindu person can be remembered is to be cremated and put in the Ganges river. If a pregnant woman, child, cow, or holy authority dies, they will not be cremated. Instead, they will be taken to the center and weights will be tied to them to sink the body. Seeing the fires on the shore was a very real experience that I will always remember. On the way back to the bus, we had a long walk through an alley that we did not walk through on the way there. It was narrow, about three people shoulder width apart. The smells were foul and overwhelming but nowhere near as overpowering as the sights we witnessed. We were constantly being shoved and stepped on by the Indians living in this slum, who were making their way through. As we combed through the dark, filthy alley, we were haggled by relentless merchants, shouted at, and gawked at. Tourists clearly did not visit here. At one point, we brushed up against a corpse being brought down to the Ganges. At this point, an Asian SASer took out his camera and snapped a ton of pictures of it. I have truly never been more ashamed of being American. It was such an obvious display of ignorance and disrespect. I snapped at him and he stopped, but he will never be forgiven in my mind. The emotional reaction that the Indian woman had when viewing his behavior proved that what he did was unforgiveable. One merchant would not leave me alone and insisted on me buying a do-it-yourself body art set. I didn’t want to buy one but he would not leave me alone for the duration, about thirty minutes. Upon reaching the bus, he offered to give it to me for a kiss. I was frazzled, distraught, and disturbed and I refused. This walk was one of the hardest things that I’ve ever had to do and I had tears on the way home. There’s no way to fully describe that experience and I don’t have any pictures from it but it will never be forgotten. We made our way back to the hotel and I said goodbye to Fahad. We got to the Varanasi Airport and took the flight to Delhi, where we had a long layover. We went to a café where we got lunch, amazing mochas, and coffee cake. We were drained from the day but the coffee and cake gave us tons of energy. A few of us went upstairs to the bar/gentlemen’s club before going back to the terminal. Once inside, my group of friends randomly started dancing in the middle of the airport. We were so tired but so in love with our lives and at the time, it seemed appropriate. The ten of us were doing the various dances we had learned in Ghana, South Africa, and India and jumping up and down. This was a moment that is still very much with me. When would we ever be in Delhi, dancing in the middle of an airport for a half hour, waiting for a flight with great friends? The rest of SASers from our trip, along with throbs of Indians stared, laughed, and took pictures and videos. We got on the second flight back to Chennai. This was our last transport and I hoped that maybe I would get some sleep on this last trip but, of course, I was wide-awake the entire time. We got back to the ship around 10. I got ready to go out but at the last minute decided that my body would probably shut down so I went to bed.
Day 6: I woke up and had a few hours before leaving for the orphanage visit I had scheduled. I probably could have and should have gone out and explored Chennai a little bit but security is such a hassle and I decided that I would instead take the time to get organized, relax, and work out. We left on the orphanage visit at noon. When we stepped outside, I had a strange realization. This was by far the hottest, most humid heat that I had ever been in and I was strangely accepting of it. We headed to the orphanage and immediately were led inside by elementary age kids. I was in awe of how cute these kids are. Was it a publicity stunt? Do they only let the attractive and charismatic ones interact with visitors in order to create superficial bonds and funding? It was a horrible thought but definitely crossed my mind. By the end, I knew that that was not true but that the kids were just that adorable. They made every effort to speak English and interact with us. Barely anyone asked for anything; they were just excited to receive. A lot of SAS kids (myself not included, for which I regretted instantly) brought bags of coloring books, toys, crayons, etc. We colored in coloring books and played with cameras. They LOVE to take pictures and then turn it around to see the product; this never got old. A few of the older Indian girls performed a rehearsed dance and then, to our surprise, expected one in return. A few of us got up and did the maccarena, and a few others. They seemed extremely unimpressed until the hokie pokie, which they recognized and promptly joined in. We played for a few hours, meeting new kids and moving from room to room. The entire time, one girl stuck by my side. Devida is one of the cutest, most talented little girls I have ever encountered. She was initially very shy but after a little while, very friendly. She participated in some of the songs and dances and was incredibly attentive. She drew pictures outside with chalk that were incredible. The most impressive thing was her tact and class; she wasn’t pushy when it came to getting gifts and was massively polite when it came to asking to use the camera. I feel like she was my younger sister or daughter and I’m so excited to show off pictures of her. To those of you that said I would fall in love with some guy from the Midwest on the ship- you were wrong. I fell in love with a little girl named Devida in an Indian orphanage. When leaving, we hugged for a long time and she just kept saying “Best friends. Friends strong. You and I are friends” over and over in every different way possible. We had to be torn apart. I left my extra rupees with the orphanage in a hope that in some way it will enhance the life of this little girl or ones like her.
India was, in a way, nothing at all what I expected. In another, it was everything that I expected and more. It wasn’t dirty in the way that we heard. I don’t have to throw away my clothes and I wasn’t upset by the filth. Instead, I feel so bad for the people that I met and for those I didn’t that these are their standards. They are used to throwing all trash on the floor and regarding the rare trash can as superfluous. Children are raised from a young age that this is okay- it is their culture. Putting your banana peel on your classroom floor after lunch is the norm. If this is what is normal, where is the hope for clean streets? The amount of open sores on people and the disfigurement affected me in ways that it hasn’t when I have seen it in the US. It is so shocking when you see it in mass amounts of people, I think, because there is a greater chance that it would have been your reality had you lived here. India is truly the land of contrast. The wealth and poverty live simultaneously and the opposite ends of the spectrum are so extreme that it appears as if no one is in the middle. A woman with a removed nose and small drop of puss in place of an eye, begging, lives outside of the apartment building of a family who spends equal to 10 million US (this is not an exaggeration) on their wedding. In classes back home, the role of women is visited over and over and their unfortunate situations are re-examined often. However, I have never felt it more than here. Everything about being a woman is so drastically worse than being a man in this country. Discipline and beating from your husband is a regular occurrence for some, mainly in rural India. The orphanage was 90% girls because parents leave them in trash cans and on train tracks. The same parents’ sons are their pride and joy. Pregnant mothers are starting to have ultra sounds- not to search for health issues, but to see the sex of her baby in order to decide whether to abort or not. Our tour guide mentioned a few times that India was the largest English speaking country in the world. This is true solely because of their immense size. The population is hard to fathom and because of it, there are more English speakers in India than the US. After returning to the ship and talking with a lot of other kids, I have found that a lot of people did not have the same emotional and moving experience that I did. I don’t think that I would have had I not gone to Varanasi, but the country as a whole truly changed my views. Varanasi did it for me because of how authentic it was. They were not used to white people, at all. A lot of homestays in Ghana or South Africa provided an opportunity for kids to go to villages and stay with families. Although this is very authentic, the families prepare for you. You aren’t merely dropped into their lives without notice. It didn’t make a difference to them that we were there or not. They went on with their lives, which are so different than ours, and this candid experience is why I was blown away and am still reeling. Today is our first day back on the ship and I’m emotionally and physically drained. I’m sure than I forgot a lot but this is long enough. India is somewhere that I really want to come back to. It’s not a vacation type of place, but a place to go to when you really want to think and be violently thrown out of your comfort zone. Next stop: MALAYSIA!!
No comments:
Post a Comment