The other day my coworker invited me to attend a play. I hadn’t yet experienced much of Bangalore’s art scene, so I thought I would give it a shot. I didn’t even bother to ask any details about the show since I was really craving a little culture.
As I sat down in my upper-balcony seat at St. John’s Auditorium anxiously awaiting the orchestra to strike their first note and the curtains to open, the thought went through my mind that I was about to witness some of the best material for a blog post since coming to India. Why, you may ask? Because as it turned out, I was about to see a Bangalore High School’s performance of “Yo Sista,” an adaptation of Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit. Armed with my canon powershot (yes, it has video taking capability), I was prepared to fully document the 200+ cast of kids singing dancing, and of course, rapping.
Okay, so there was no pit orchestra and the curtain was broken, but there was a synthesized soundtrack and some sweet sets. They were nothing though compared to the pure entertainment that the kids provided. The nuns and priests knew how to shake it, and the cast of students did their best to replicate the American ghetto’s lexicon and fashion style.
All of this was much funnier, of course, because I went to see this play completely unaware that it was a high school production. So, if you can ignore my unsteady hand, sit back, relax, and enjoy a little taste of Indian theater at its best.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Let the Holiday Season Begin
Just as Thanksgiving and my birthday have been grouped together for celebration purposes in the past, I shall combine the telling of their stories into one blog post. If you’ve been following my blog at all, you are probably aware that my roommate and I had been planning an extravagant Thanksgiving dinner for a while. With all of the hype we had no choice but to go all out and bring classic Thanksgiving fare to Flat 110 of Raheja Residency’s Ebony Block.
Preparations began at 10 AM on the Saturday following Thanksgiving, and involved lots of shopping, running around, chopping, boiling, mashing, cooking and reheating. By the time everything was finished and my roommate picked up the delicious guest of honor, people were just beginning to arrive. I mustered up my last bits of strength to serve our 25 plus guests their food and keep their glasses full.
The meal included humus, guacamole, cheese, crackers and veggies for appetizers; turkey, stuffing (veg and non-veg), mashed potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, green beans, creamed corn, carrots, gravy and bread for dinner; and, apple pie and homemade brownies for dessert. All in all it was delicious, and hopefully my Indian coworkers were able to enjoy a taste of classic American cooking (despite its lack of spice!).
After the meal I set up a video chat over skype with Mom so she could wish everyone a happy Turkey Day. It was pretty neat.
A few days later, I celebrated my 24th birthday. It was a low-key day, which is exactly what I was hoping for. After work, I made some phone calls to family and headed off for dinner at MTR. This is a landmark establishment in Bangalore, that has been serving classic South Indian meals since 1924. They actually package their food and sell it all over the country, as well as in the U.S.
Dinner was followed by a drink at the Guzzlers in, which is a local pub that tends to play good music (relatively speaking, of course). On the ride home we happened upon a rickshaw driver with Christmas lights imbedded into his auto’s ceiling, and a full speaker system that blasted bollywood music. The whole day was a truly “Indian” experience.
Preparations began at 10 AM on the Saturday following Thanksgiving, and involved lots of shopping, running around, chopping, boiling, mashing, cooking and reheating. By the time everything was finished and my roommate picked up the delicious guest of honor, people were just beginning to arrive. I mustered up my last bits of strength to serve our 25 plus guests their food and keep their glasses full.
The meal included humus, guacamole, cheese, crackers and veggies for appetizers; turkey, stuffing (veg and non-veg), mashed potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, green beans, creamed corn, carrots, gravy and bread for dinner; and, apple pie and homemade brownies for dessert. All in all it was delicious, and hopefully my Indian coworkers were able to enjoy a taste of classic American cooking (despite its lack of spice!).
After the meal I set up a video chat over skype with Mom so she could wish everyone a happy Turkey Day. It was pretty neat.
A few days later, I celebrated my 24th birthday. It was a low-key day, which is exactly what I was hoping for. After work, I made some phone calls to family and headed off for dinner at MTR. This is a landmark establishment in Bangalore, that has been serving classic South Indian meals since 1924. They actually package their food and sell it all over the country, as well as in the U.S.
Dinner was followed by a drink at the Guzzlers in, which is a local pub that tends to play good music (relatively speaking, of course). On the ride home we happened upon a rickshaw driver with Christmas lights imbedded into his auto’s ceiling, and a full speaker system that blasted bollywood music. The whole day was a truly “Indian” experience.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Just another week in India
It’s been just another week here in the land of infinite source material for my blog. No wonder so many screenplay writers and novelists come to this country for inspiration. As my life becomes increasingly rutinized, the pace of stories and experiences worth sharing has anything but slowed down. My recent haircut and trip to the city market made the cut for this week’s blog post.
I know that getting a haircut in a foreign country where a language barrier exists can be problematic. I experienced this in Italy (think Euro-mullet) a few years back and had read another AIF fellow’s barbershop woes last year when I was applying for the fellowship. Armed with this knowledge, I prepared for the situation by purchasing hair clippers so that I could sport the classic traveler’s shaved head look. Still, after less than three months, I decided I’ve gotten comfortable enough here to complete this basic grooming task without major problems. Oh how wrong I was.
Everything seemed to be going well at first. Sure the lights went out a few times when the barber was cleaning around the edges with a straight razor, but that wasn’t enough of a problem to spoil the otherwise hygienic and well-executed trim. Problems began when he combed my hair in a very poindexterish style. In motioning to the man that I wanted to sport the “messy look” instead of the “nerdy look,” he understood that I wanted a head massage. He began by pouring a liter of coconut oil all over my scalp and neck, to which I laughingly screamed out “I don’t think white people’s hair needs this much oil.” Clearly not understanding, he began the most vigorous head massage that’s ever been given. For ten minutes he shook, prodded, and smacked my head, much to my brain’s discomfort. I opened my eyes to see that I had essentially gotten what I had asked for—The messy, and very, very greasy look.
As I recovered from the mild concussion, the manager came over to see if I was satisfied and tried to up-sell me on some additional services—mainly a “lady massage” which would occur in the back room. I gracefully declined, and jetted out of the “salon,” careful not to let my regular vegetable vendor see me in fear that he would no longer respect me for visiting the local whore house (Yes, this is the same vegetable vendor who gives me discounts because he assumes that I am a Christian.)
The outcome of the “salon” experience: a thorough dusting of my clippers in preparation for next month’s trim.
A few short days after my haircut I ventured off with some friends to Bangalore’s City Market. I’ve gone there twice now and both times been completely overwhelmed and awed by the sights and sounds. This outing was no exception.
Not long after arriving, we stumbled across a hilarious and noisy procession of young men celebrating something. As background, it’s pretty common in India for a random truck to drive down the road holding up traffic as 30 or more occupants spill out of the sides in song and dance. Drums, fireworks, and screaming are all part of the routine for these makeshift celebrations. What’s not so common however, is having someone lay down a row of firecrackers about 20 ft. long and probably 2000 blasts strong. Even more uncommon is to have two unsuspecting cows tied to a wall nearby. I’d like to think of this as the Indian version of cow tipping. They essentially freaked out and started kicking their legs and shaking their heads. It was sad, but hysterical.
In stark contrast to the jovial procession of youth out to scare livestock was the grotesque and frightening tattoo shop. I know that American’s have high standards when it comes to hygiene, but what I saw was nothing less than a public health nightmare. The City Market in general is one of the dirtiest places I’ve been in India (which says a lot). Hundreds of thousands of people, most of which appear and sound as if they have TB or worse, roam the tiny streets. Piles of old and rotting vegetables are up to your ears and animal feces are literally everywhere…you get the picture. In the midst of this, set up on the sidewalk in front of the only public restroom in the entire market, was a tattoo stand. Without cleaning the needles, and using a car battery for power, the “artist” gave tattoos (and I’m sure hepatitis or worse) to anyone who was interested. It was truly upsetting to see people line up for this, completely unaware of the risks. I watched for a few minutes, continued on my way, and added tattoo safety awareness to the growing list of things that need to be worked on in this country.
I know that getting a haircut in a foreign country where a language barrier exists can be problematic. I experienced this in Italy (think Euro-mullet) a few years back and had read another AIF fellow’s barbershop woes last year when I was applying for the fellowship. Armed with this knowledge, I prepared for the situation by purchasing hair clippers so that I could sport the classic traveler’s shaved head look. Still, after less than three months, I decided I’ve gotten comfortable enough here to complete this basic grooming task without major problems. Oh how wrong I was.
Everything seemed to be going well at first. Sure the lights went out a few times when the barber was cleaning around the edges with a straight razor, but that wasn’t enough of a problem to spoil the otherwise hygienic and well-executed trim. Problems began when he combed my hair in a very poindexterish style. In motioning to the man that I wanted to sport the “messy look” instead of the “nerdy look,” he understood that I wanted a head massage. He began by pouring a liter of coconut oil all over my scalp and neck, to which I laughingly screamed out “I don’t think white people’s hair needs this much oil.” Clearly not understanding, he began the most vigorous head massage that’s ever been given. For ten minutes he shook, prodded, and smacked my head, much to my brain’s discomfort. I opened my eyes to see that I had essentially gotten what I had asked for—The messy, and very, very greasy look.
As I recovered from the mild concussion, the manager came over to see if I was satisfied and tried to up-sell me on some additional services—mainly a “lady massage” which would occur in the back room. I gracefully declined, and jetted out of the “salon,” careful not to let my regular vegetable vendor see me in fear that he would no longer respect me for visiting the local whore house (Yes, this is the same vegetable vendor who gives me discounts because he assumes that I am a Christian.)
The outcome of the “salon” experience: a thorough dusting of my clippers in preparation for next month’s trim.
A few short days after my haircut I ventured off with some friends to Bangalore’s City Market. I’ve gone there twice now and both times been completely overwhelmed and awed by the sights and sounds. This outing was no exception.
Not long after arriving, we stumbled across a hilarious and noisy procession of young men celebrating something. As background, it’s pretty common in India for a random truck to drive down the road holding up traffic as 30 or more occupants spill out of the sides in song and dance. Drums, fireworks, and screaming are all part of the routine for these makeshift celebrations. What’s not so common however, is having someone lay down a row of firecrackers about 20 ft. long and probably 2000 blasts strong. Even more uncommon is to have two unsuspecting cows tied to a wall nearby. I’d like to think of this as the Indian version of cow tipping. They essentially freaked out and started kicking their legs and shaking their heads. It was sad, but hysterical.
In stark contrast to the jovial procession of youth out to scare livestock was the grotesque and frightening tattoo shop. I know that American’s have high standards when it comes to hygiene, but what I saw was nothing less than a public health nightmare. The City Market in general is one of the dirtiest places I’ve been in India (which says a lot). Hundreds of thousands of people, most of which appear and sound as if they have TB or worse, roam the tiny streets. Piles of old and rotting vegetables are up to your ears and animal feces are literally everywhere…you get the picture. In the midst of this, set up on the sidewalk in front of the only public restroom in the entire market, was a tattoo stand. Without cleaning the needles, and using a car battery for power, the “artist” gave tattoos (and I’m sure hepatitis or worse) to anyone who was interested. It was truly upsetting to see people line up for this, completely unaware of the risks. I watched for a few minutes, continued on my way, and added tattoo safety awareness to the growing list of things that need to be worked on in this country.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Reaching the World's Richest and Poorest
Most of you know microfinance mainly as a buzz word that gets some media cover
age every now and then-- basically the soup d’jour of the development field. The beauty of this “trend” however, is that it actually makes a difference in people’s lives. On top of that, it can succeed largely independent of donor funding and is relatively free of abuse by corrupt governments (all traits that lack in many other poverty reduction mechanisms).
Harnessing the international attention on microfinance is a major component of my job. Right now microfinance is at the forefront of everyone’s mind. With everyone from celebrities, to royalty, to western governments supporting microfinance, I’m trying to capture a bit of their attention and hopefully motivate people to take a more hands on role as investors, employees, volunteers, etc. Building up our website, interaction with media, monthly newsletters, and brochures are all critical to setting my NGO apart, in what is increasingly becoming a crowded space.
As important as it is to engage the world’s elite and attract them to microfinance, there is another audience that must not be forgotten—the customers. What microfinance institutions need to focus equally (or more) on is communicating to the poor, illiterate, extre
mely busy and hardworking women that drive their business.
With all of the money pouring into MFIs around the world, there is a lot of pressure to produce big results quickly. But in an effort to scale up rapidly, attention must be paid to ensuring that customers are moving along at the same speed. Offering products that meet the needs of the poor is only useful to them if they understand the benefits (and risks).
Which brings me to another major focus at work: communicating our p
roducts to our customers and staff. It’s challenging, but the pay off can be big—both personally and for the company. I’m getting to spend time working with incredible and inspiring entrepreuners to understand how they think and learn. If I’m able to effectively improve the way that we communicate our products to our customers, sales go up. That means more people helped and a step closer to sustainability for the company.
I’ve attached to this post a few photographs of customers that I’ve taken (mostly related to our health services). In future posts I’ll share some of their stories.
age every now and then-- basically the soup d’jour of the development field. The beauty of this “trend” however, is that it actually makes a difference in people’s lives. On top of that, it can succeed largely independent of donor funding and is relatively free of abuse by corrupt governments (all traits that lack in many other poverty reduction mechanisms).
Harnessing the international attention on microfinance is a major component of my job. Right now microfinance is at the forefront of everyone’s mind. With everyone from celebrities, to royalty, to western governments supporting microfinance, I’m trying to capture a bit of their attention and hopefully motivate people to take a more hands on role as investors, employees, volunteers, etc. Building up our website, interaction with media, monthly newsletters, and brochures are all critical to setting my NGO apart, in what is increasingly becoming a crowded space.As important as it is to engage the world’s elite and attract them to microfinance, there is another audience that must not be forgotten—the customers. What microfinance institutions need to focus equally (or more) on is communicating to the poor, illiterate, extre
mely busy and hardworking women that drive their business.With all of the money pouring into MFIs around the world, there is a lot of pressure to produce big results quickly. But in an effort to scale up rapidly, attention must be paid to ensuring that customers are moving along at the same speed. Offering products that meet the needs of the poor is only useful to them if they understand the benefits (and risks).
Which brings me to another major focus at work: communicating our p
roducts to our customers and staff. It’s challenging, but the pay off can be big—both personally and for the company. I’m getting to spend time working with incredible and inspiring entrepreuners to understand how they think and learn. If I’m able to effectively improve the way that we communicate our products to our customers, sales go up. That means more people helped and a step closer to sustainability for the company.I’ve attached to this post a few photographs of customers that I’ve taken (mostly related to our health services). In future posts I’ll share some of their stories.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Tea, Jazz, Slums and Livestock: Making Sense of My Surroundings
At least one time everyday the following thought goes through my head: “I can’t believe this is my life.” This happens at completely random moments (when sitting in autos, when walking through a market, when visiting microfinance customers in the slums, or while having a cup of tea), but always requires a moment to mentally remove myself from my surroundings and make sense of what is going on.
So exactly where do I fit into this environment? That seems to be in a state of constant flux-- both with respect to each new person that I meet here, and my self-perception that changes each new day that I live here. To the vegetable stall owner who learned about where I work, I’m the American defying the stereotype of being power hungry and lacking compassion to help others. To the auto driver I’m the rich American who can afford to pay double or triple the normal fare. To the expat or professional contact I’m the young idealist willing to take a little career risk. And to my maid…well, I have no idea how she perceives me since we don’t speak the same language (but damn she can cook and clean!).
That leaves my constantly evolving understanding of self. I go from defying my American government and culture one minute, to clinging onto anything that reminds me of America the next. When people ask my religion I feel slightly ashamed that I don’t identify myself with any religion in a country where people’s lives are defined by it. And how is it that I rationalize ignoring a small child begging for money, when such a small amount to me means so much to her?
All of this leaves me wondering how I ended up making a life for myself in such an unlikely place and why this has been something that I’ve wanted to do for so long. I didn’t really imagine that I would be spending my commute to work trudging through ankle deep mud and dodging various forms of livestock’s excrement. Likewise, I didn’t think I would end up spending an evening in a smoky coffee shop listening to a local jazz band’s rendition of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” Yet these are the things that make up my life now. They provide the same stress, enjoyment, laughs, satisfaction, etc. that my old routine back in D.C. did. So as I go through the process of figuring out how I fit in--wondering how my life changed so drastically—I find it easiest to just brush the “wow this is my life” thought aside, and move on as if this is exactly how my life should be right now.
So exactly where do I fit into this environment? That seems to be in a state of constant flux-- both with respect to each new person that I meet here, and my self-perception that changes each new day that I live here. To the vegetable stall owner who learned about where I work, I’m the American defying the stereotype of being power hungry and lacking compassion to help others. To the auto driver I’m the rich American who can afford to pay double or triple the normal fare. To the expat or professional contact I’m the young idealist willing to take a little career risk. And to my maid…well, I have no idea how she perceives me since we don’t speak the same language (but damn she can cook and clean!).
That leaves my constantly evolving understanding of self. I go from defying my American government and culture one minute, to clinging onto anything that reminds me of America the next. When people ask my religion I feel slightly ashamed that I don’t identify myself with any religion in a country where people’s lives are defined by it. And how is it that I rationalize ignoring a small child begging for money, when such a small amount to me means so much to her?
All of this leaves me wondering how I ended up making a life for myself in such an unlikely place and why this has been something that I’ve wanted to do for so long. I didn’t really imagine that I would be spending my commute to work trudging through ankle deep mud and dodging various forms of livestock’s excrement. Likewise, I didn’t think I would end up spending an evening in a smoky coffee shop listening to a local jazz band’s rendition of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” Yet these are the things that make up my life now. They provide the same stress, enjoyment, laughs, satisfaction, etc. that my old routine back in D.C. did. So as I go through the process of figuring out how I fit in--wondering how my life changed so drastically—I find it easiest to just brush the “wow this is my life” thought aside, and move on as if this is exactly how my life should be right now.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Exporting Halloween
My Halloween experience in Bangalore deserves its own post. I had low expectations when it came to celebrating Halloween here, but to my surprise the thriving expat community/my personal ambition brought some life to what would otherwise be a very dead holiday.
This past Saturday my roommate Max and I joined about 75 other expats for an outdoor Halloween party sponsored by a hotel. We managed to convince the security guards at our job to allow us to borrow their uniforms, and arrived at the party decked out from head to toe in Security Guard finery. After exchanging glances with the hotel security staff, we made our way into the party. Surprisingly, people took their costumes quite seriously and covered the entire spectrum, from a group dressed as ABBA, to Captain Jack Sparrow, to bloody prom queens.
Of course, Halloween Day couldn’t go by without taking part in the age-old tradition of carving jack-o-lanterns. As you can imagine, pumpkins aren’t as abundant in India, so Sumit, Diana and I made due with a watermelon. I wonder if this means I’ll be decorating a palm tree this year for Christmas?
This past Saturday my roommate Max and I joined about 75 other expats for an outdoor Halloween party sponsored by a hotel. We managed to convince the security guards at our job to allow us to borrow their uniforms, and arrived at the party decked out from head to toe in Security Guard finery. After exchanging glances with the hotel security staff, we made our way into the party. Surprisingly, people took their costumes quite seriously and covered the entire spectrum, from a group dressed as ABBA, to Captain Jack Sparrow, to bloody prom queens.
Of course, Halloween Day couldn’t go by without taking part in the age-old tradition of carving jack-o-lanterns. As you can imagine, pumpkins aren’t as abundant in India, so Sumit, Diana and I made due with a watermelon. I wonder if this means I’ll be decorating a palm tree this year for Christmas?
Merry Dasara
Two weekends ago, I took my first Saturday off since being in India to get together with several other fellows (Sumit, Diana, Vanitha, Menaka, and Nafessa) to go to Mysore and take part in the Dasara festivities. The non-Bangalorians arrived via overnight train early on Friday morning and enjoyed the day taking part in all of the conveniences that a city has to offer (mainly shopping). After work I jetted off to meet them for some dinner at “The Only Place,” a nice 
outdoor restaurant that serves purely western food. I had a chicken sandwich, fries, and a salad (that’s right, a salad), plus mac-n-cheese and garlic bread was shared for starters. IT WAS FANTASTIC! (As a side note, my roommate and I have placed an order for a 20lb. turkey from The Only Place, to be delivered November 21. We are planning a full Thanksgiving feast.) After dinner we had some wine and desserts to celebrate Vanitha’s birthday, and headed out for a few drinks before the bars close at a pathetic 11:30pm.
Early Saturday morning we made our way to the bus station and hopped on the first coach headed to Mysore. Three hours later we arrived and were picked up by Menaka’s cousin Padma, who we would be spending the weekend with. Padma lives with her father and two children in a beautiful and comfortable home. Their sense of hospitality was unlike any I’ve experienced before. It was fantastic, but also different than I was used to, which led to some minor faux pas. In general, it seems that being a good guest in India means really just allowing the host to treat you like royalty. They generally cant do enough to make you feel comfortable, well fed, at home, happy, etc.—and as a guest you have to just sit back and enjoy all they offer. One small example is when it comes to eating. Typically I would assume that clearing my plate is a sign that I’ve enjoyed the meal and am completely satisfied and happy. I learned from the uncle, that in fact, a host wants their guest to leave some food on the plate, to show that you are full and satisfied with the meal.
As far as the Dassara festivities go, it was really a unique experience that reminded me of a combination of Times Square on New Years Eve and Disney World. Mysore’s most famous attraction is a palace that once belonged to the King of the state of Mysore. For Dassara, every inch of the castle is lit up when it gets dark. It’s beautiful, and draws a crowd of hundreds of thousands.
The final day of dassara (there are 10), there is a huge parade of elephants and floats that begins at the palace and goes through town. We thought we were being smart and avoiding the crowd, by watching it towards the end of the route from a side street. We were about as smart as half a million other people, who also decided to watch from the same spot. The elephants and parade were impressive, but I was much more fascinated by the immense crowd and everything that was going on around me.
We also had a chance to stop in at a local temple. I had no idea what I was doing, but just tried to follow the actions of the people around me. Hopefully I wasn’t too offensive.
All in all the weekend provided some much needed time with friends, a healthy dose of family life, and sites that will stick with me for a life
outdoor restaurant that serves purely western food. I had a chicken sandwich, fries, and a salad (that’s right, a salad), plus mac-n-cheese and garlic bread was shared for starters. IT WAS FANTASTIC! (As a side note, my roommate and I have placed an order for a 20lb. turkey from The Only Place, to be delivered November 21. We are planning a full Thanksgiving feast.) After dinner we had some wine and desserts to celebrate Vanitha’s birthday, and headed out for a few drinks before the bars close at a pathetic 11:30pm.Early Saturday morning we made our way to the bus station and hopped on the first coach headed to Mysore. Three hours later we arrived and were picked up by Menaka’s cousin Padma, who we would be spending the weekend with. Padma lives with her father and two children in a beautiful and comfortable home. Their sense of hospitality was unlike any I’ve experienced before. It was fantastic, but also different than I was used to, which led to some minor faux pas. In general, it seems that being a good guest in India means really just allowing the host to treat you like royalty. They generally cant do enough to make you feel comfortable, well fed, at home, happy, etc.—and as a guest you have to just sit back and enjoy all they offer. One small example is when it comes to eating. Typically I would assume that clearing my plate is a sign that I’ve enjoyed the meal and am completely satisfied and happy. I learned from the uncle, that in fact, a host wants their guest to leave some food on the plate, to show that you are full and satisfied with the meal.
As far as the Dassara festivities go, it was really a unique experience that reminded me of a combination of Times Square on New Years Eve and Disney World. Mysore’s most famous attraction is a palace that once belonged to the King of the state of Mysore. For Dassara, every inch of the castle is lit up when it gets dark. It’s beautiful, and draws a crowd of hundreds of thousands.
The final day of dassara (there are 10), there is a huge parade of elephants and floats that begins at the palace and goes through town. We thought we were being smart and avoiding the crowd, by watching it towards the end of the route from a side street. We were about as smart as half a million other people, who also decided to watch from the same spot. The elephants and parade were impressive, but I was much more fascinated by the immense crowd and everything that was going on around me.
We also had a chance to stop in at a local temple. I had no idea what I was doing, but just tried to follow the actions of the people around me. Hopefully I wasn’t too offensive.
All in all the weekend provided some much needed time with friends, a healthy dose of family life, and sites that will stick with me for a life
Monday, October 15, 2007
A Breadth of Fresh Air
Many of you asked before I left for India if I was excited for the move. To this, my standard response was that I was more excited for a month or two into the trip, than I was about moving here. This Sunday, exactly one month and two weeks after arriving here, was the day I was anxiously awaiting. Finally, things seemed to click into place. For the first time I felt like I had a bit of control over the shape of my experience here and that things would become the adventurous, cultural exchange that I was hoping for.
I started Sunday much like every other day—wishing that I had more sleep. It was a bit easier getting up however, knowing that I wasn’t headed down the usual dirt road that runs along the pungent and polluted stream on my way to work. Instead, my roommate and I grabbed an auto to meet up with a group for a rafting and trekking trip organized by “The Wanderers.” I had heard about “The Wanderers” through another expat, and knew very little about the group other than that they liked the outdoors. There were a total of 15 of us, including one Grameen Foundation staffer that I met randomly here in Bangalore (small world). On the 100km journey North in an old bus, I relaxed while listening to some Ryan Adams on my ipod, and checked out the surrounding views. The scenery quickly morphed from streets crowded with cars and people to unpaved back roads interrupted by herds of cows.
After about three hours of bumpy roads that would eventually lead to an extremely sore ass, we arrived at our final destination: The Cauvery Wildlife Sanctuary along the Bheemeshwari River. The river is surrounded by lush green mountains and is home to a variety of wildlife—unfortunately only the birds were out for our trip. We saw several hawks, eagles, and other smaller but equally beautiful species.
I started Sunday much like every other day—wishing that I had more sleep. It was a bit easier getting up however, knowing that I wasn’t headed down the usual dirt road that runs along the pungent and polluted stream on my way to work. Instead, my roommate and I grabbed an auto to meet up with a group for a rafting and trekking trip organized by “The Wanderers.” I had heard about “The Wanderers” through another expat, and knew very little about the group other than that they liked the outdoors. There were a total of 15 of us, including one Grameen Foundation staffer that I met randomly here in Bangalore (small world). On the 100km journey North in an old bus, I relaxed while listening to some Ryan Adams on my ipod, and checked out the surrounding views. The scenery quickly morphed from streets crowded with cars and people to unpaved back roads interrupted by herds of cows.
After about three hours of bumpy roads that would eventually lead to an extremely sore ass, we arrived at our final destination: The Cauvery Wildlife Sanctuary along the Bheemeshwari River. The river is surrounded by lush green mountains and is home to a variety of wildlife—unfortunately only the birds were out for our trip. We saw several hawks, eagles, and other smaller but equally beautiful species.
The trip was led by four Nepalese river guides who were great at entertaining us. They made up for the small size of the rapids by steering our boats into each other so that they could st
art splashing battles. After about 2.5 hours on the river with a few easy/moderate series of rapids, we headed back to our base where there was a great south Indian lunch awaiting us. The day finished off with a short trek to one of the mountain peeks that had some beautiful views of the river and surrounding mountains. On our way back we ran into a guy using two elephants to help with his farm work. It was cool to see and touch the elephants, but sad and frustrating to see such amazing animals chained up and being used as laborers. We got back to the base and packed up to head home. Before getting on the bus, I tasted a tamarind fruit/nut that I pulled off a nearby tree by the recommendation of our guide. It was deliciously sour and crunchy.
The trip overall was a great relief from the city, from the pollution, and from the difficulty I had been having connecting with Indians. The other “wanderers” were all extremely friendly and interesting, and we all shared a similar interest in the outdoors. There were two Indian guys that were really funny, and kept insisting that “Americans go first.” They would tell me that every time we were in line to get on the bus or get chai or food or something. They also were determined to teach me some basic Kannada phrases, despite my inability to remember them for more than 4 seconds. I’m sure it was pretty hysterical listening to me try to pronounce things. “Nina”…”No no, its pronounced Neena”…”oh okay, Nena”…”noo, its nEEEna.” Uhhh.
Anyway, “The Wanderers” do trips every weekend at all different levels of difficulty and length. I’m looking forward to using this group as a way to experience India’s wildlife and make some friends while I’m at it. Interestingly, on the ride home, I found myself searching my ipod for the few Indian songs that I have.
More cultural transitioning/learning occurred this evening when I gave Mrs. Ghosh’s “chicken stew” recipe a try. Mrs. Ghosh is the wife of the CEO of Ujjivan. She runs the NGO in charge of delivering social services to our customers. She also has quite the reputation for being an excellent cook, and rarely gives out her recipes. As one of the lucky recipients of her treasured recipes, I feel that it is critical that I perfect this recipe (or at least get it to the point that my taste buds determine it to be perfect). It didn’t come out terrible, but needless to say, I suspect it will take another dozen or so tries before I’m willing to let Mrs. Ghosh taste it.
So there you have it. My first gasps of clean air and my first steps towards cultural assimilation. Now, I’m excited to be here.
art splashing battles. After about 2.5 hours on the river with a few easy/moderate series of rapids, we headed back to our base where there was a great south Indian lunch awaiting us. The day finished off with a short trek to one of the mountain peeks that had some beautiful views of the river and surrounding mountains. On our way back we ran into a guy using two elephants to help with his farm work. It was cool to see and touch the elephants, but sad and frustrating to see such amazing animals chained up and being used as laborers. We got back to the base and packed up to head home. Before getting on the bus, I tasted a tamarind fruit/nut that I pulled off a nearby tree by the recommendation of our guide. It was deliciously sour and crunchy.
The trip overall was a great relief from the city, from the pollution, and from the difficulty I had been having connecting with Indians. The other “wanderers” were all extremely friendly and interesting, and we all shared a similar interest in the outdoors. There were two Indian guys that were really funny, and kept insisting that “Americans go first.” They would tell me that every time we were in line to get on the bus or get chai or food or something. They also were determined to teach me some basic Kannada phrases, despite my inability to remember them for more than 4 seconds. I’m sure it was pretty hysterical listening to me try to pronounce things. “Nina”…”No no, its pronounced Neena”…”oh okay, Nena”…”noo, its nEEEna.” Uhhh.
Anyway, “The Wanderers” do trips every weekend at all different levels of difficulty and length. I’m looking forward to using this group as a way to experience India’s wildlife and make some friends while I’m at it. Interestingly, on the ride home, I found myself searching my ipod for the few Indian songs that I have.More cultural transitioning/learning occurred this evening when I gave Mrs. Ghosh’s “chicken stew” recipe a try. Mrs. Ghosh is the wife of the CEO of Ujjivan. She runs the NGO in charge of delivering social services to our customers. She also has quite the reputation for being an excellent cook, and rarely gives out her recipes. As one of the lucky recipients of her treasured recipes, I feel that it is critical that I perfect this recipe (or at least get it to the point that my taste buds determine it to be perfect). It didn’t come out terrible, but needless to say, I suspect it will take another dozen or so tries before I’m willing to let Mrs. Ghosh taste it.
So there you have it. My first gasps of clean air and my first steps towards cultural assimilation. Now, I’m excited to be here.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Happiness is…
Lonely Planet’s World Food: India quotes an Indian philosopher as saying “Happiness is… a dry fart.” Its no surprise that this truly would bring about happiness for most travelers in India, but there’s a whole world of new things that bring about happiness for me here in Bangalore—most are simple, but really can turn a bad or frustrating day good.
This entry is all about the little things that “happiness” has become.
Happiness is…listening to my Ipod while sitting in an auto rickshaw. This is the most relaxing thing I can do when the streets are swarming with cars, cows, and little children trying to get money from you by doing unimpressive tricks (i.e. spinning their heads in circles while wearing a hat with a string and ball on it). Its impossible to communicate with the rickshaw drivers since they generally only speak Kannada, so why not sit back, turn up a good tune, and sing along. This simple pleasure turns a tedious journey into a good time. I also enjoy it because it’s creating a soundtrack to the intense sites, smells, and experiences that I am having here.
Happiness is…going to a Barista after a long day. I’ve always enjoyed relaxing in a coffee shop with a good book, but going to Barista (a Starbucks like coffee chain) really brings an entirely new sense of enjoyment to this activity. In reality, Barista is my comfort zone here in India. Its one place I can count on to have good music, no crowds, and delicious coffee.
Happiness is…an auto ride without the need for bargaining. I get it. I’m white in a sea of brown, and to an auto driver that means money in a sea of empty wallets. Little does he know, I’m earning a modest salary (even by Indian standards) and genuinely cant afford to pay 200 rupees for a 30 rupee ride. That’s why when I step into an auto and the driver starts the meter without me having to argue, plead, get out of the auto and threaten to walk away, I’m happy. Very happy.
Happiness is…paved roads and sunny days. You guessed it. I have a lovely commute to work on a dirt road, which during monsoon season spells G-R-O-S-S. Gross mud, gross, smells, and gross shoes that leave trails of dirt everywhere. Three or four days of sun / or limited rain, makes all the difference at 8 a.m. when I embark on my walk to work.
Happiness is…winning the war occurring inside my stomach. Just about every meal I sit down to, I think to myself…This could be the meal that sends me into days of stomach pain, agony, and general mess. Upon finishing the meal-- when I’m not sure if my stomach is about to expel what it has just taken in or is just on fire from the massive amounts of spice-- I imagine my stomach in the midst of a war. That’s why each meal, when my stomach cools down and it becomes apparent that I have won the war, I’m quite happy.
What’s made you happy lately that’s been a surprise?
This entry is all about the little things that “happiness” has become.
Happiness is…listening to my Ipod while sitting in an auto rickshaw. This is the most relaxing thing I can do when the streets are swarming with cars, cows, and little children trying to get money from you by doing unimpressive tricks (i.e. spinning their heads in circles while wearing a hat with a string and ball on it). Its impossible to communicate with the rickshaw drivers since they generally only speak Kannada, so why not sit back, turn up a good tune, and sing along. This simple pleasure turns a tedious journey into a good time. I also enjoy it because it’s creating a soundtrack to the intense sites, smells, and experiences that I am having here.
Happiness is…going to a Barista after a long day. I’ve always enjoyed relaxing in a coffee shop with a good book, but going to Barista (a Starbucks like coffee chain) really brings an entirely new sense of enjoyment to this activity. In reality, Barista is my comfort zone here in India. Its one place I can count on to have good music, no crowds, and delicious coffee.
Happiness is…an auto ride without the need for bargaining. I get it. I’m white in a sea of brown, and to an auto driver that means money in a sea of empty wallets. Little does he know, I’m earning a modest salary (even by Indian standards) and genuinely cant afford to pay 200 rupees for a 30 rupee ride. That’s why when I step into an auto and the driver starts the meter without me having to argue, plead, get out of the auto and threaten to walk away, I’m happy. Very happy.
Happiness is…paved roads and sunny days. You guessed it. I have a lovely commute to work on a dirt road, which during monsoon season spells G-R-O-S-S. Gross mud, gross, smells, and gross shoes that leave trails of dirt everywhere. Three or four days of sun / or limited rain, makes all the difference at 8 a.m. when I embark on my walk to work.
Happiness is…winning the war occurring inside my stomach. Just about every meal I sit down to, I think to myself…This could be the meal that sends me into days of stomach pain, agony, and general mess. Upon finishing the meal-- when I’m not sure if my stomach is about to expel what it has just taken in or is just on fire from the massive amounts of spice-- I imagine my stomach in the midst of a war. That’s why each meal, when my stomach cools down and it becomes apparent that I have won the war, I’m quite happy.
What’s made you happy lately that’s been a surprise?
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
So, what are you doing in India?
Unpacking your suitcases after several weeks of packing, unpacking, repacking, traveling, unpacking again, repacking again, and traveling with a crap load of stuff on a crowded, smelly train feels good. In general settling into my life and job in Bangalore is a welcomed relief. My apartment is a comfortable two bedroom shared with a great roommate in a safe and family oriented complex. Ujjivan, my new employer, is organized, doing fantastic work, and providing me with challenging projects. Bangalore has a ton to offer in terms of culture, food, nightlife, friends, etc. It’s rare that so many pieces seem to fall into place, and I’m really going to take advantage of this.
I wanted to give a sense of what I will be working on over the next 10 months, since that will be occupying most of my time out here. As background, Ujjivan is a 2 year-old microfinance organization that is focusing on providing credit and other financial services to the extreme poor (those living on less than $2 per day). In comparison to most Microfinance Institutions (MFIs), they have some huge advantages that will enable them to be successful. Their primary asset is that the CEO and most of the leadership team has significant banking experience, which is noticeable in almost every process and procedure in the company. The MFI was set up with a firm understanding of banking operations, and also best practices within the microfinance industry. For these reasons, in less than two years they have reached over 33,000 clients in Bangalore, Kolkata, and Delhi, with plans for expansion to two additional cities and to over 2 million clients in the next 6 years.
Ujjivan is also opening up an non-profit branch called Parinam, that is focusing on delivering social services to Ujjivan’s clients in three main areas: Health Care Services, Vocational and Entrepreneurship Services, and Community Development Services. They are partnering with existing, local Non Governmental Organizations (NGOs) to deliver the services, rather than reinventing the wheel.
My time is going to be split between the two organizations. At Ujjivan, I’ll be developing a communication’s toolkit for new and existing financial products, creating and managing a financial education product for increasing the customers knowledge of basic financial principals and the landscape of financial services available to them, and building their external communications and P.R. to potential investors and the microfinance industry.
At Parinaam, I’m going to be helping them to incorporate into a non-profit, leading their branding process (including creating logo, letterhead, business cards, and website), developing a fundraising strategy, and working on gaining initial funding for their programs.
Sounds like a lot, right? Well, fortunately Ujjivan and most companies in India have a six-day work week and my company has instituted a “no internet” policy to increase efficiency.
Beyond logistics, work seems like it will be a comfortable environment that will provide a good balance of Indian cultural exposure and the typical western work environment. English is spoken by everyone at Ujjivan, but there is a diverse mix of Indian’s in terms of ethnic background, religion, age, and gender. Plus there is a rotating group of western interns, employees, etc. A major perk of working at Ujjivan is that individual initiative is highly encouraged and bureaucracy and inefficiency are minimal. I think I will be able to achieve and learn a lot, in a relatively short period of time.
One of my goals is to remain aware of the full spectrum of reasons for coming to India and taking this fellowship, and ensure that I maintain a healthy balance of work, life, culture, travel, etc. I’m starting to get a sense of the broad spectrum of things to get involved in and slowly starting to expand my extracurricular activities. I’ve recently started up yoga (at only $25 per month for unlimited classes, how can I not?), and am looking into weekend trekking groups, and Hindi language courses (all of which I am sure will be subjects of future blog posts).
Have any ideas of what else I should do while I am here? Post them in the comments.
I wanted to give a sense of what I will be working on over the next 10 months, since that will be occupying most of my time out here. As background, Ujjivan is a 2 year-old microfinance organization that is focusing on providing credit and other financial services to the extreme poor (those living on less than $2 per day). In comparison to most Microfinance Institutions (MFIs), they have some huge advantages that will enable them to be successful. Their primary asset is that the CEO and most of the leadership team has significant banking experience, which is noticeable in almost every process and procedure in the company. The MFI was set up with a firm understanding of banking operations, and also best practices within the microfinance industry. For these reasons, in less than two years they have reached over 33,000 clients in Bangalore, Kolkata, and Delhi, with plans for expansion to two additional cities and to over 2 million clients in the next 6 years.
Ujjivan is also opening up an non-profit branch called Parinam, that is focusing on delivering social services to Ujjivan’s clients in three main areas: Health Care Services, Vocational and Entrepreneurship Services, and Community Development Services. They are partnering with existing, local Non Governmental Organizations (NGOs) to deliver the services, rather than reinventing the wheel.
My time is going to be split between the two organizations. At Ujjivan, I’ll be developing a communication’s toolkit for new and existing financial products, creating and managing a financial education product for increasing the customers knowledge of basic financial principals and the landscape of financial services available to them, and building their external communications and P.R. to potential investors and the microfinance industry.
At Parinaam, I’m going to be helping them to incorporate into a non-profit, leading their branding process (including creating logo, letterhead, business cards, and website), developing a fundraising strategy, and working on gaining initial funding for their programs.
Sounds like a lot, right? Well, fortunately Ujjivan and most companies in India have a six-day work week and my company has instituted a “no internet” policy to increase efficiency.
Beyond logistics, work seems like it will be a comfortable environment that will provide a good balance of Indian cultural exposure and the typical western work environment. English is spoken by everyone at Ujjivan, but there is a diverse mix of Indian’s in terms of ethnic background, religion, age, and gender. Plus there is a rotating group of western interns, employees, etc. A major perk of working at Ujjivan is that individual initiative is highly encouraged and bureaucracy and inefficiency are minimal. I think I will be able to achieve and learn a lot, in a relatively short period of time.
One of my goals is to remain aware of the full spectrum of reasons for coming to India and taking this fellowship, and ensure that I maintain a healthy balance of work, life, culture, travel, etc. I’m starting to get a sense of the broad spectrum of things to get involved in and slowly starting to expand my extracurricular activities. I’ve recently started up yoga (at only $25 per month for unlimited classes, how can I not?), and am looking into weekend trekking groups, and Hindi language courses (all of which I am sure will be subjects of future blog posts).
Have any ideas of what else I should do while I am here? Post them in the comments.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
India, at last
Can you believe it? One week in Bangalore and already I’ve organized myself enough to post my first blog entry. Here is a not so brief overview of my orientation and 40 hour train ride south to my new home in Bangalore.After arriving at my hotel in Delhi at 2am, we wasted no time in resting up or recovering from jet lag. By 9am the next morning we were off and running with the program orientation. The orientation is designed to give AIF service corps fellows an overview of life in India, as well as the three social issues that the American India Foundation is trying to address. The three areas are livelihood, education, and public health. Overall they did a fantastic job of providing a birds eye view of each of these areas through a combination of presentations given by respected leaders in the NGO/business world, film screenings, and site visits. I was pleasantly surprise by the caliber of the speakers, and the level of organization on AIFs part overall. A few examples of the thought leaders that they assembled for us include a high ranking government official, the managing director of ICICI bank (India's largest national bank), a world renowned leader in the Indian (and global) feminist movement, etc.
One outstanding part of the orientation for me was a private, after-hours tour of India's National Gallery of Modern Art, which was accompanied by a private talk by the director/curator and India's most famous artist, Anjolie Ela Menon. The evening was introduced to us as being comparable to going to the MET in NY, and receive a 1.5 hour talk from the director and Georgia O'Keeffe, and then walking around the museum after hours, with them at our sides to answer questions. For me, it really gave context to everything that we have been learning about. The director reminded us to always look at art with an open mind without thinking of the history that surrounds it. Without doing this, he pointed out, you cannot genuinely experience the art. This is a piece of advice that I generally will carry with me and apply to my work and life experiences here in India.
Another highlight of the orientation was when one of the advisers hosted a dinner for us at the most swank restaurant I've ever been to. It was on the outskirts of Delhi, and had just opened 3 weeks before. It had a series of misters go off every five minutes so that it felt air conditioned, even in the 90+ degree heat. The food, decorations, ambiance, music, lights were all impeccable. It was a nice contrast to the incredibly deep issues that we had been learning about 10 hours a day, each day.
The most amazing experience however, was our rural site visit to several NGOs in Rajasthan. It was on this trip that I really had that “ahha” moment, where I thought to myself, “Oh this is why I’m here. This is why I’ve decided to work in this field.” I first had the opp
ortunity to participate in a national polio vaccine day. In the particular village we visited, children have built up such a resistance to the vaccine that they need to receive 20 doses of the vaccine in order for it to be effective. Me and a few other westerners were asked to participate basically to attract more children who would be interested in “seeing white people.” We drew quite a crowd, and I even had the chance to give a vaccine to one of the children. It was incredible to see mothers drive up in rickshaws, pass their kid through the window to receive the vaccine, grab their kid back, and take off.
Next we spent some time at an NGO that is attempting to provide quality education in towns with particularly low early education attendance rates. This was really an eye open
er for me. In one classroom with no desks and a dirt floor, one teacher taught three separate grade levels (about 40 kids). As he taught one level, the other two levels were given assignments and quietly did their work. Seeing how my two sisters struggle as teachers in the states, with comparably lavish resources, made me wonder how teachers working in these conditions could have the energy to go to work each day. And more importantly, how kids could ever reach their full potential and advance on to higher education.
Finally we visited a microcredit organization that helped rural women expand their farming business. As I sat in a circle with a group of borrowers, and listened to them sing their opening pledge, I felt both a sense of honor to be in their presence and a sense of validation in the work that I have been dedicating myself to for the past few years. They finished up their meeting and answered our questions, and when given the opportunity to ask us a question, they had only one request: that we sing them a song. Pathetically, we sang several rounds of row, row, row your boat, because we couldn’t quickly come up with something else that we all knew, but they appreciated it anyway. Afterwards they proudly led us through the plots of land that they were able to purchase through the micro loans, and offered us a few ears of corn.
Scattered throughout the orientation we had an opportunity to see some of the sites in Delhi, including; a massive and intricate mosque, Gandhi's tomb, Hindu temples etc. It was during these excursions that I saw first hand some of the harsher realities of life in India. Poverty, disorganization, corruption, disease, etc. One image in particular stuck in my mind and I want to share it to highlight the situation that exists in this country. My first trip off the grounds of our hotel was in search for an internet café. On our walk over, there were the standard stray dogs filling the sidewalks. I noticed one lying down, and as I walked past it I saw that it had a massive gaping and festering wound on its back. The dog was not dead. It was actually being eaten alive by maggots. I know this is disgusting and terrible and sad, and I wanted nothing more than to put it out of its misery. Thousands of people walked past this dog that day, none of which did or even could do anything about it. Thinking about this, I realized that the dog is very much experiencing the same things that hundreds of millions of people in the country are experiencing. Disease, life threatening conditions, apathy from those around them, and an inability to do anything about the situation, but sit around and wait for death to come.
Fortunately, not all wildlife is in such a terrible state as the poor dog on the street in Delhi. The abundance of exotic flora/fauna has been one of my favorite parts about my time in India. There are the basic things that you expect like monkeys, cows, camels (that’s right Catherine) and elephants. I've seen several of each so far, including a monkey that enjoyed taunting me as I was held up in my room both scared it might attack and curious to take a picture. Some surprises have been a beautiful green and yellow parrot, which flew freely around one of the ancient Hindu temples we visited; Grey and white striped chipmunks that are apparently the Indian version of squirrels; Lizards that roam the ceilings in search of a meal at night; and of course, the myriad of insects. By the way, if you don't like insects, don't come to India—or at least not to Delhi in September. Our room had a full on infestation of crickets. It was not uncommon to kill 20 or more crickets that ran alongside my bed before going to sleep--or to wake up with one hoping across my forehead in the morning, for that matter. I kind of think this is payback for when I have fed crickets to various reptile that I had growing up.
As the orientation wrapped up I said my goodbyes to the other fellows who I developed surprisingly strong friendships and bonds with in a short period of time. The train ride was somewhat worse than you would imagine a 40 hour train ride in a crammed compartment with 3 Americans with tons of luggage and 3 angry Indians would be. Why? Because as luck would have it, I came down with a horrendous cold the very morning of my departure. Fortunately a doctor gave me some meds and I mostly spent my time sleeping and reading.
So here I am in Bangalore settling into my new apt, my new job, my new life, and my new shower that doesn’t have any hot water. My next post will have lots more stories, and should hopefully be more concise. Till then, take care!
One outstanding part of the orientation for me was a private, after-hours tour of India's National Gallery of Modern Art, which was accompanied by a private talk by the director/curator and India's most famous artist, Anjolie Ela Menon. The evening was introduced to us as being comparable to going to the MET in NY, and receive a 1.5 hour talk from the director and Georgia O'Keeffe, and then walking around the museum after hours, with them at our sides to answer questions. For me, it really gave context to everything that we have been learning about. The director reminded us to always look at art with an open mind without thinking of the history that surrounds it. Without doing this, he pointed out, you cannot genuinely experience the art. This is a piece of advice that I generally will carry with me and apply to my work and life experiences here in India.
Another highlight of the orientation was when one of the advisers hosted a dinner for us at the most swank restaurant I've ever been to. It was on the outskirts of Delhi, and had just opened 3 weeks before. It had a series of misters go off every five minutes so that it felt air conditioned, even in the 90+ degree heat. The food, decorations, ambiance, music, lights were all impeccable. It was a nice contrast to the incredibly deep issues that we had been learning about 10 hours a day, each day.
The most amazing experience however, was our rural site visit to several NGOs in Rajasthan. It was on this trip that I really had that “ahha” moment, where I thought to myself, “Oh this is why I’m here. This is why I’ve decided to work in this field.” I first had the opp
ortunity to participate in a national polio vaccine day. In the particular village we visited, children have built up such a resistance to the vaccine that they need to receive 20 doses of the vaccine in order for it to be effective. Me and a few other westerners were asked to participate basically to attract more children who would be interested in “seeing white people.” We drew quite a crowd, and I even had the chance to give a vaccine to one of the children. It was incredible to see mothers drive up in rickshaws, pass their kid through the window to receive the vaccine, grab their kid back, and take off.Next we spent some time at an NGO that is attempting to provide quality education in towns with particularly low early education attendance rates. This was really an eye open
er for me. In one classroom with no desks and a dirt floor, one teacher taught three separate grade levels (about 40 kids). As he taught one level, the other two levels were given assignments and quietly did their work. Seeing how my two sisters struggle as teachers in the states, with comparably lavish resources, made me wonder how teachers working in these conditions could have the energy to go to work each day. And more importantly, how kids could ever reach their full potential and advance on to higher education.Finally we visited a microcredit organization that helped rural women expand their farming business. As I sat in a circle with a group of borrowers, and listened to them sing their opening pledge, I felt both a sense of honor to be in their presence and a sense of validation in the work that I have been dedicating myself to for the past few years. They finished up their meeting and answered our questions, and when given the opportunity to ask us a question, they had only one request: that we sing them a song. Pathetically, we sang several rounds of row, row, row your boat, because we couldn’t quickly come up with something else that we all knew, but they appreciated it anyway. Afterwards they proudly led us through the plots of land that they were able to purchase through the micro loans, and offered us a few ears of corn.
Scattered throughout the orientation we had an opportunity to see some of the sites in Delhi, including; a massive and intricate mosque, Gandhi's tomb, Hindu temples etc. It was during these excursions that I saw first hand some of the harsher realities of life in India. Poverty, disorganization, corruption, disease, etc. One image in particular stuck in my mind and I want to share it to highlight the situation that exists in this country. My first trip off the grounds of our hotel was in search for an internet café. On our walk over, there were the standard stray dogs filling the sidewalks. I noticed one lying down, and as I walked past it I saw that it had a massive gaping and festering wound on its back. The dog was not dead. It was actually being eaten alive by maggots. I know this is disgusting and terrible and sad, and I wanted nothing more than to put it out of its misery. Thousands of people walked past this dog that day, none of which did or even could do anything about it. Thinking about this, I realized that the dog is very much experiencing the same things that hundreds of millions of people in the country are experiencing. Disease, life threatening conditions, apathy from those around them, and an inability to do anything about the situation, but sit around and wait for death to come.
Fortunately, not all wildlife is in such a terrible state as the poor dog on the street in Delhi. The abundance of exotic flora/fauna has been one of my favorite parts about my time in India. There are the basic things that you expect like monkeys, cows, camels (that’s right Catherine) and elephants. I've seen several of each so far, including a monkey that enjoyed taunting me as I was held up in my room both scared it might attack and curious to take a picture. Some surprises have been a beautiful green and yellow parrot, which flew freely around one of the ancient Hindu temples we visited; Grey and white striped chipmunks that are apparently the Indian version of squirrels; Lizards that roam the ceilings in search of a meal at night; and of course, the myriad of insects. By the way, if you don't like insects, don't come to India—or at least not to Delhi in September. Our room had a full on infestation of crickets. It was not uncommon to kill 20 or more crickets that ran alongside my bed before going to sleep--or to wake up with one hoping across my forehead in the morning, for that matter. I kind of think this is payback for when I have fed crickets to various reptile that I had growing up.
As the orientation wrapped up I said my goodbyes to the other fellows who I developed surprisingly strong friendships and bonds with in a short period of time. The train ride was somewhat worse than you would imagine a 40 hour train ride in a crammed compartment with 3 Americans with tons of luggage and 3 angry Indians would be. Why? Because as luck would have it, I came down with a horrendous cold the very morning of my departure. Fortunately a doctor gave me some meds and I mostly spent my time sleeping and reading.
So here I am in Bangalore settling into my new apt, my new job, my new life, and my new shower that doesn’t have any hot water. My next post will have lots more stories, and should hopefully be more concise. Till then, take care!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Lonely Planet Sheds Light
I recently purchased Lonely Planet’s India edition. A quick read through yielded some interesting findings. Hopefully the following highlights will be worthy of their own blog post once experienced firsthand. I’ve separated them out into three categories:
Pack up my bags and get me to Bangalore ASAP
• In Bangalore, “Beer starts… at RS 90 (US$2) for a pint… but prices drop during happy hour, which usually runs until 6pm.”
This is good on two levels. A) beer for $2 beats beer for $6 in DC. B) Happy hour running until 6pm must mean that people get off of work by 4 (assuming bars give you at least 2 hours from the end of the work day to be happy).
• “It is the heavenly aroma of cooking spices, the juice of exotic fruits running down your chin and rich, fiery curries that will make your taste buds stand to attention.”
Pasta six nights a week and an occasional slice of Alberto’s are fine enough, but we all know that I love me some spice. I’m thoroughly looking forward to the seismic shift I’m about to experience when it comes to the available cuisine. I’m looking less forward to the seismic shift that it will likely cause on a daily basis in my stomach.
Can this fellowship be done offsite? Say, from Washington, DC?
• “Bars shut at a sadly early 11:30 pm.”
What?!? I guess I’ll have to introduce Bangalore to the after party.
• “Goat is one of the most commonly eaten meats.”
Bahhhh…Bahhhh. Lauren, you thankfully have prepared me well for a life of vegetarianism if goat seems to be the only available animal to eat. By the way, the Bahhh was my attempt to spell out the sound that goats make, in case you weren’t sure.
Not sure which category this fits in
• “Karaga (held in March/April) is a festival that honors the goddess Draupadi, and is held at Dharmaraya Swamy Temple. It’s a colorful procession that is led by a cross-dressed priest and accompanied by half-naked swordsmen. Their visit to the tomb of a Muslim saint has come to signify Hindu-Muslim solidarity.”
In D.C., we have something very similar known as the annual “Drag Race” down 17th street.
Pack up my bags and get me to Bangalore ASAP
• In Bangalore, “Beer starts… at RS 90 (US$2) for a pint… but prices drop during happy hour, which usually runs until 6pm.”
This is good on two levels. A) beer for $2 beats beer for $6 in DC. B) Happy hour running until 6pm must mean that people get off of work by 4 (assuming bars give you at least 2 hours from the end of the work day to be happy).
• “It is the heavenly aroma of cooking spices, the juice of exotic fruits running down your chin and rich, fiery curries that will make your taste buds stand to attention.”
Pasta six nights a week and an occasional slice of Alberto’s are fine enough, but we all know that I love me some spice. I’m thoroughly looking forward to the seismic shift I’m about to experience when it comes to the available cuisine. I’m looking less forward to the seismic shift that it will likely cause on a daily basis in my stomach.
Can this fellowship be done offsite? Say, from Washington, DC?
• “Bars shut at a sadly early 11:30 pm.”
What?!? I guess I’ll have to introduce Bangalore to the after party.
• “Goat is one of the most commonly eaten meats.”
Bahhhh…Bahhhh. Lauren, you thankfully have prepared me well for a life of vegetarianism if goat seems to be the only available animal to eat. By the way, the Bahhh was my attempt to spell out the sound that goats make, in case you weren’t sure.
Not sure which category this fits in
• “Karaga (held in March/April) is a festival that honors the goddess Draupadi, and is held at Dharmaraya Swamy Temple. It’s a colorful procession that is led by a cross-dressed priest and accompanied by half-naked swordsmen. Their visit to the tomb of a Muslim saint has come to signify Hindu-Muslim solidarity.”
In D.C., we have something very similar known as the annual “Drag Race” down 17th street.
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