in which we celebrate an unbridled success

We hopped on a train from Delhi to Agra on Friday night, got to our hotel, ate a delicious dinner of chilli paneer and naan and vegetable fried rice and snuggled up into a queen-size bed by 11:30PM. Woke up at the crack of dawn, made the simple five-minute walk from the hotel to the West Gate of the Taj Mahal. By 6:15AM  we were inside the grounds of the monument, just in time to see the sun rise over the mausoleum. It was fantastic. It wasn't too hot. There weren't too many people there. By 9:00AM, we had finished our sightseeing. We grabbed breakfast at a rooftop restaurant then hopped on a bus back to Delhi by 11:00AM. There were some aggressive men around the Taj trying to sell us things or scam us or get us to eat at their restaurant, but we were there early enough that no one really bothered us. Bonus: By choosing a hotel within walking distance of the Taj Mahal, we didn't have to take a rickshaw and get scammed into going to the Taj Mall. It was all of the wins.

Here's a quick haiku to sum up our weekend:

To Agra, we went

The Taj Mahal, we did see

After, we just left.

Now if you excuse me, I have to bang out an eight-page paper and start studying for a Hindi final. I have a feeling I'm going to be camped out in Costa Coffee all day long. 

haute couture, indian style

I'm secretly not-so-secretly obsessed with high fashion. I purchase American Vogue every month and spend an hour or so flipping through the pages longingly, wishing I had legs like Karlie Kloss or an artistic vision like Grace Coddington.

I was inspired by my friend Kelsey to take this burning desire to be a part of the high fashion world and make it reality, Desi style. Labor is cheap in India, and tailors are on every corner. Fabric is also inexpensive, and this includes beautiful silk with intricate patterns embroidered in dazzling colors. Kelsey has grabbed this opportunity by the horns and run with it, to mix my metaphors. She had purchased fabric to make curtains, a duvet cover, a couple of silk ties for her boyfriend and her father, and a blazer.

Ever since this seed has been implanted in my mind, I've been dreaming of a beautiful camel-colored suit. I've always pined for an Yves Saint Laurent suit, but that's entirely unreasonable since they cost literally thousands of dollars. But imagine this design in camel; I dare you not to swoon --

You swooned, didn't you. I was stoked for Saturday, we all went to the Lajpat Nagar Central Market in search for fabric for blazers and suits. I was determined to find the fabric of my dreams on this shopping excursion, and I was not going to leave disappointed. We went to a small stall that had some fabric, and I picked up a light dove grey material for a looser blazer. I found the style that I want on the Topshop website, and you can see the vision below --

Unfortunately, that stall did not carry the beautiful caramel color that I could so clearly envision. But then I went next door, and among all of the dozens of bolts of fabric, I spotted it on the bottom shelp. A beautiful creamy color that wasn't too dark or too brown. It was a magical moment, and I exclaimed - with tears in my eyes and a grin on my face - "I think this is what it'll feel like when I find my wedding dress." What can I say? I was excited. Both bolts of fabric cost me a little less than 2000INR, or $40. Totally reasonable price for a full suit and a blazer.

But the problem is that I'm sort of obsessed with this now. I went to a silk store that Kelsey recommended and adeptly wrote about on her own blog, and I bought some more fabric. One is what the salesman called an "ethnic" print. It's brown with orange paisley embroidery; it looks sort of 1970's, but it's totally unique and was only 600INR for three yards. I also bought a simple navy cotton fabric.

After scouring the Barney's CO-OP website and Shopbop.com and J.Crew and Anthropologie, I decided what I wanted to do with the fabric. I found a tailor, showed him the designs of what I wanted, and he took my measurements and sent me on my way. He also had me e-mail him the pictures of the dresses so that he could reference them. Here's what I'm going to have tailored for a total of 2350INR --

For the 1970's print material, using a design from Barney's CO-OP.

For the navy cotton fabric, style courtesy of J.Crew.

Basically what I'm getting at here is that I'm going to have five beautiful custom-designed pieces created in the near future for not that much money, considering the quality of the material and the fact that they're tailored to fit my exact body size. These pieces would cost hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars in the States. I'm going to be so fly in my custom-made pieces. I just want it to be April 4 so that I can pick up my dresses from Klassic Designs. (I picked the tailor based on the name, actually. There's this brand called Kwality and they sell ice cream, and it's actually delicious even though you think that a brand that misspells "quality" so atrociously would be totally janky. It was the same sort of thought process with this. "They spell 'classic' with a 'K?' Yeah, that's got to be really legitimate." No jokes.) The fashionista within me is swooning and wants to be wearing these beautiful garments! I just want to go back to America so that I can show off my legs again.

certified

I guess I'm officially certified in basic yoga and ayurveda after spending a week here? If you need some yoga lessons or want an ayurvedic massage or some oil dripped onto your forehead, just give me a call. Apparently I know something about these practices now, but maybe not enough to actually do treatments. We can always find out how much I remember or how good my notes are, though.

Headed back to Delhi in a couple of hours and I'm vaguely devastated to have to go back to the program center and the daily grind. I think I'm going to do some yoga and chant some "ohms" in the morning before I leave for class on Monday morning. Good thing I have the weekend to readjust.

in which my chakras (and spine) get totally realigned

When I left for India in January, my father was in the midst of reading Steve Jobs's biography. Jobs spent a period of time in India, apparently at an ashram or something, and he came back with all of these ideas about Eastern spirituality and yoga and vegetarianism and whatnot. And my father was terrified that I would come back with these same hokey ideas. Unfortunately for him, I might actually come back totally into yoga and a more intense vegetarian than when I left. (Sorry, Dad, but I'm not going to eat the deer that you shoot.)

It's all because of this week in Rishikesh. I'm totally digging this scene. I'm not really digging the whole "White man finding himself" type that exists in full force in this town, generally replete with dreadlocks and bad tribal tattoos on biceps and forearms. However, yoga is doing good things for me. Like really good things. I've done more physical activity in the past few days than I have in a while, and I feel pretty fit.

Part of this physical activity was a 10-km hike from our guest house to a waterfall. That's right. A waterfall. We didn't swim in the waterfall or jump off the waterfall. It was more of a low-risk wading situation, but it was still incredibly pleasant. After sitting in the water for a while, I lay on a huge boulder for even longer. It was simply wonderful.

We did yoga twice today. Once in the morning and again after the hike. My sun salutations are totally popping now, let me tell you. Our yoga teacher also cracked all of our backs, which was phenomenal because I've felt like there's been a metal rod in my back since I got here.

Oh, did I mention that we also learned how to give ayurvedic massages today? I'm awful, and I think I may have hurt our friend who willingly volunteered to be the massage "victim," but I sort of know what to do with the massage oils now.

What this week has been good for, if nothing else, has been the opportunity to take a break and relax. For the first time in months, I've had free time. Time to myself in which I can do what I want. I've been eating what I want to eat, not just what my host mother or the program center feeds me. Choices are great!

I'm also realizing more and more what I need to be happy, the things that I need to build into my schedule in order to be functional. I need to eat vegetables and fruits in abundance. I like yogurt with museli and honey for breakfast. I need to drink coffee in the morning. I need alone time so that I can decompress, without thinking about other people. I need to exercise regularly.

What's been hard about this program is that I've been on their schedule, and I've spent so much time trying to adapt that I've been ignoring my own basic needs. In our yoga lecture, we were talking about why yoga is so important. It seems to be really contradictory to focus on yourself so much in order to love the rest of the world. It ultimately comes off as really selfish, and it sort of is. But unless you are performing at your best, it'll be impossible to do anything else.

I'll leave you with a car metaphor, because who doesn't love a good car metaphor?

Your body is a car, and life is a highway. If you try to drive down that highway at a reasonable speed in a janky car that's rusting out at the bottom and that hasn't had an oil change in years and that doesn't shift gears properly, you're bound for disaster. You need a car that's well-maintained and cared for, that gets regular tune-ups, and that's when you can safely cruse on the Autobahn at full speed and then some. Yoga is those regular tune-ups.

At least, that's what the guy teaching me yoga in India says.

back to rishikesh

Guess I couldn't stay away from Ganga-ji, huh. Only a few short weeks after my first visit to this city, I came back to Rishikesh. This time with seven girls from my program and one of our teachers as part of our workshop.

We're doing a week-long yoga retreat on the banks of the Ganges River. We have an hour-long yoga class at 8AM, followed by a delicious Ayurvedic breakfast of fruit and lots of toast. At 11AM, we have  a lecture about yoga and philosophy with a guy with an iPhone, so he's really big on making ancient yoga theory accessible for the modern world. Then we've got a long break to explore and to do our own thing. For me, this involved a full-body Ayurvedic massage yesterday afternoon. Another lecture at 4PM followed by a delicious dinner and then it's bedtime by 9PM.

Our first day here, we saw a ceremony at sunset on the banks of the Ganges. It was absolutely beautiful. I took some pictures, but it was nice to just be there as this yogi sang and one of his students played a hand organ and other people sat around a fire. (Did I happen to mention that all of this was happening on the banks of the most sacred river in India? And we had a front row seat, and I totally dipped my feet in the river, hygiene be damned?) I'm so fortunate to be here and to be able to enjoy this time. It feels like a vacation, not an academic exercise, and that is exactly what I needed.

Sorry I can't write more, but I've got to learn about the theory of yoga in a bit. It's like our teacher said on our first day here: "What we're doing now is making our future."

MEASURING FEASIBILITY OF COMMUNITY-DRIVEN ROOFTOP RAINWATER HARVEST SCHEMES TO IMPROVE ACCESS TO POTABLE WATER WITHIN LEGALLY RECOGNIZED SLUMS IN NEW DELHI

This is what I think I'll be focusing my ISP (or Independent Study Project, for those of you who aren't in the know) on. And the title must be in all-caps or it doesn't count. I wish I was an engineer so that I had a better understanding of how things work. But looking at pictures about rainwater harvesting has been pretty helpful so far --

in which all of my culinary dreams come true

It doesn't matter that I went to the National Museum today and saw corporeal remains of Buddha. It doesn't matter that we saw a Buddhist monk take pictures of aforementioned corporeal remains of Buddha with an iPad. It doesn't matter that I sat and watched cricket with my host mom for a bit. It doesn't even matter that my roommate is getting her nose pierced this evening. You know why none of that matters? 

Because I had a salad today. A delicious, simple green salad with cheese and olives and a vinaigrette dressing. No extra spices. No frills. Just a salad. (And I'm on these antibiotics or whatever sort of medication it is for a few more days, so any bacteria that I may or may not have ingested by eating this salad will be wiped out of my system momentarily. I really threw caution to the wind on this one, but it was at a restaurant in Khan Market, which is known for it's primarily Western clientele so I'm hoping I'm in the clear.)

Just let me bask in the glory of lettuce, complete with coconut water as a refreshment.

guetta on my level

A few weeks ago, my roommate and I were strolling around Khan Market when we spotted a sign that said, "David Guetta. HUDA Grounds. March 8. Buy your tickets at Turtle Café in Khan Market." We ran to the café and -- after doing our due diligence by asking about the price of the tickets and checking our syllabi to make sure that we were going to be in town on that day -- purchased two tickets. Unfortunately, none of our classmates wanted to Guetta on our level, so it was just the two of us.


Today was the day we were scheduled to Guetta it on, and we were pumped but also a little frightened. We had heard stories of a fateful Metallica concert on the same grounds, but it got cancelled because the crowd was too rowdy and aggressive. We had been getting e-mails about what not to bring. One of my favorite e-mails said, "Well-practiced dance moves and well-rehearsed lyrics will also contribute greatly to a better festival experience, for all." The "festival" started at 5PM and went on until 10PM, but there was no easily available information about who was performing between 5PM and 8PM, when Guetta went on. So really, I didn't know what to expect.


Let me tell you, folks. It was awesome.

Picture by the ever lovely Sarah Rose.

First of all, there were two DJs on before Guetta. One was an Indian guy with an electric guitar who did this cover of Skrillex's "Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites" that included some interesting beats behind it. That was sort of weird, but I also hate Skrillex after a traumatic experience at a music festival that included losing my car keys in the mud and many, many false drops of "Cinema." He also played that Etta James sample that's everywhere now but was featured prominently in Pretty Lights's "Finally Moving." All the Indians in the audience could totally sing along to that riff, though. Overall, this guy's set was less than notable.

Grainy, over-saturated and small photo of Guetta. Do you Guetta it?!

Next was a DJ named Nucleya. Never heard of him before, but he's apparently based in New Delhi. He ruled. Like really played some danceable beats and dropped a new song that was simultaneously dubby (as in dub, not dubstep) and chill and dirty. But he also dropped "Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites." Twice. Nucleya made up for it by playing "No Beef" by Steve Aoki and Afrojack, which is one of my all-time favorite songs. However, I was apparently the only on in the audience who knew that song -- which is a real shame because it's a banger -- and was the only one singing or dancing. This is probably part of the reason that he started getting booed off stage and chants of "Guetta! Guetta!" started.

David Guetta made his triumphant entrance onstage and started his set. In the interest of full disclosure, I should say here that the only David Guetta song I know is, "Sexy B*tch." Embarrassing, I know, but it brings back such fond memories of freshman year nights out in fraternity houses. The main reason that I really wanted to go to this concert was to see what a concert was like in New Delhi and because it was David Guetta's first time (ever) performing in India. Basically a music milestone, akin to the Band's Last Waltz or that time the Beatles played Shea Stadium.

Everyone else in the crowd loved David Guetta. They knew all the words to every song and all of the names of all the songs. Even Guetta was surprised saying, "I didn't think people in India liked my music." But everyone was grooving, hard and fast, for the hour and a half that we stayed of the two hour long set. He played "Sexy B*tch," and we bounced.

Here's how the concert-going experience differed from what I'm used to in the States. The guy to girl ratio was way skewed. It was probably twenty men for each girl in the crowd, which was a little nerve-racking for Sarah and me. But there's also something deliciously ironic about being surrounded by dozens of sweaty Indian college boys who are all singing, at the top of their lungs, "Where dem girls at?!" when you know the answer is, "There really aren't that many here." Also, the festival was sponsored by a liquor company but they didn't serve any alcohol at the venue.

Overall the crowd, despite the weird ratios, was surprisingly tame. We definitely didn't have to deal with Metallica 2.0. We left a little early to be on the safe side and made it home at a reasonable hour. We're now studying for our Hindi oral midterm tomorrow, and I drank two Red Bulls before the concert so I'm probably not going to bed anytime soon. Hopefully I have enough of a voice to say anything tomorrow, least of all in a foreign language.

Even if I don't have a voice, I can say that my chakras feel realigned after this concert. My giardia is pretty taken care of at this point, which is great and I have more energy than I've had in weeks. Going to concerts also always helps me re-orient myself, cheesy as that sounds. It's always fun and cathartic about live music, and I've really missed just going to shows with friends.

P.S. In the interest of shameless self-promotion, I'm going to hype my articles and concert reviews on the WMFO Blog. My primary hobby is going to concerts, and I write about them often. If you liked this post, you'll probably enjoy what I have to say over there, too.

let's talk about holi

"Casual Tisching, post-Holi" -- a gem from Spring 2011.

The first time I heard about Holi was during my freshman year at Tufts. I went away for a weekend with the Tufts Democrats (because I'm a hip, social activist type...or just a nerd), and when I came back, my roommate and quite a few of my floormates were coated in colorful pigment. All I could get from them was, "Holi! Colors! On the Rez Quad! Just now! Indian festival! Blah! Did you see how cool my shirt looked?! Look at the cool Holi pictures that are up on Facebook!" During my sophomore year, I made it a point to partake in the festivities, led by the Indian student organization on campus. Once again, I didn't really know what it meant except that it was an excuse to take a nice, long break from studying for midterms to throw colors at each other. My boyfriend and I took a picture on my laptop in Tisch, post-Holi, to show to the world how cultured and colorful we were. (I should also mention that I sort of hated the whole thing. I liked being covered in colors, but I hated how every time I blew my nose for the next week, my snot was a mixture of purple and red from the rang. But, hey. A good Facebook picture is a good Facebook picture, you dig?)

Now let's fast-forward to a year later. I'm in India for Holi. No more of this janky Rez Quad business; I've moved into the major leagues. I woke up, excited to get out there and get my color on. But let me tell you something about Holi in India. It is serious business. First and foremost, the streets are empty. The market's closed. You can barely find an auto-rickshaw, when they're usually driving around in packs of five or six. Second, there's this ominous feeling when you walk down the streets because all you see is patches of pigment thrown on the sidewalks. You know someone has been there, but you don't know where they've gone and you don't know when they'll be back. It's nerve wracking. This is what I imagine a zombie apocalypse to feel like --

The usually bustling Lajpat Nagar Central Market on Holi.

And what have we all learned from zombie movies? When the zombie apocalypse is approaching, you stock up, and you stock up quickly. The only vendors that were on the streets were selling water guns, so Sarah and I grabbed one each and filled up. We then, cautiously, made our way back to our homestay. On the way, we had to dodge water balloons dropped from the roofs of the buildings surrounding us. I even saw a father, carrying his baby, with a water gun in hand. Sarah and I, unfortunately, did not come out unscathed. Some old man with a great white beard came up to us as we were buying water guns and smeared some green pigment on our foreheads and gave us a big bear hug, which was equally slimy. On our walk to the market, Sarah got hit with a few water balloons, some good squirts of a water gun and an egg to the right thigh. I got a water balloon to the right side and the back of the neck, in addition to an egg on my left butt cheek.

And then, war began. Children throwing pigment. Fathers on rooftops with sons and daughters, chucking water balloons. Big kids jumping little kids, rubbing dye in their hair and faces. Total chaos --

It was way aggressive. I'm still scared to go out onto the streets. In fact, Sarah and I went to the ATM and I had to literally growl at two teenage boys to get hell away from me with the rang, or pigment. They got dangerously close, but I scared 'em off. There was also a couple of grown men who were harassing us and threw a bottle of water on us. That was just uncalled for, honestly.

I'm now sitting in my room while the rest of my host family is napping. Our host sister says that once you wash the pigment off, you wash away your energy too and you just need to take a nap. But, much like last year, I need to buckle down and study for a midterm. Miree Hindi bahut karab hai. That's fancy-talk for, "My Hindi is really bad."

Today's been fun, but I already have enough trouble when I walk down the mean streets of Delhi. I get cat-called on the regular, so I really don't need to be worrying about getting a water balloon thrown at me or staining my clothes with potentially toxic chemicals, too.

Happy Holi! Right?!

in which we cross something off the bucket list

My roommate Sarah and I realized how little time we have left in Delhi, especially considering the fact that we spend so much of our time doing Hindi homework and going on excursions with the program. This led us to spend our valuable time (and I will not confirm or deny that this valuable time may or may not have occurred during one of our lectures this week) making a Delhi Bucket List. It is, if I may say so myself, a beautiful list and very well-written and designed.

Today we had a holiday from classes because of Holi tomorrow, so Sarah and I took the opportunity to cross some things off today. Specifically, we went to Lodhi Gardens and then a nearby American-style diner that I found on the Internet the other day. Neither activity disappointed.

The gardens were stunning. I had no idea that there was so much green space within Delhi. There were beautiful monuments, palm trees, green parrots, dogs, benches and flowers. We found a nice bench next to a little lake and studied Hindi until a sort of creepy man came up to us and started asking us questions about our Hindi homework. I think he was trying to help, but he was more of a distraction than anything else.

We then found some monkey bars. Sarah did some flips and I failed - yet again - at doing a single pull-up. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted some boys playing Holi. Holi, for those of you who are unaware, is the festival of colors. You celebrate by throwing colored powder over all of your friends. The main day of the festival is tomorrow, but that hasn't stopped anyone from started the festivities a day or two early. These boys were chucking powder left and right, and we very willing to have their picture taken...but I also had to pose for a picture with them in return. That made me uncomfortable, but a deal's a deal.

in which i would really kill for some cheese with this whine

Today, in a word, sucked.

in which i realize that i never actually had dysentery

I thought the antibiotics I took for the dysentery had worked, but that was short-lived. My stomach has been sort of upset even after taking the full course, but I sort of chalked it up to eating nothing but spicy Indian food. But then on Friday night, I couldn't fall asleep because it felt like I was in the movie "Alien," and I just generally felt crappy and low-energy all week. I also chalked this up to the rigorous schedule that we had been following.

But this afternoon I had a low-grade fever and had a lot of...intestinal issues. I also was peeing a lot. Like, I would drink an ounce of water and immediately run to the bathroom. Also, Electral in water tasted delicious, and oral rehydration salts only taste good if you're dehydrated. I sucked it up and went to the doctor today. I didn't have to poop in a cup this time, but I did take a cup home to poop in just in case the medication he prescribed didn't work.

Turns out I was misdiagnosed. Bacterial dysentery, my ass. Instead, I've got the ever-pleasant giardia! Check out that lovely chart of the life cycle of the protozoa from the CDC on the left. Symptoms of giardiasis include -- diarrhea, gas, greasy stools that tend to float, stomach or abdominal cramps, upset stomach or nausea/vomiting, and dehydration. I've had all of these things. Additionally, giardiasis can apparently appear to get better only to come back in full force a few days later. This is probably what happened to me after taking the antibiotics.

Hopefully this will be the end of my GI problems in this country. My roommate, on the other hand, is raring to eat some street food. I still just want a simple salad and maybe some tomato soup. Arugula, where are you?!

in which i want to pass out and sleep for days

First a brief apology for the lack of blogging as of late. I've got a good excuse, though. I spent last weekend camping in Rishikesh, which is the foothills of the Himalayas and on the banks of the Ganges, so I didn't bring my laptop for fear of getting it destroyed. This week was spent in Udaipur and, more accurately, rural Rajasthan. Rajasthan is known as "the land of the kings," so there are a ton of beautiful palaces. There is also a ton of desert and unpaved roads and goats and cows. I know this because we spent about six hours a day driving to remote locations in the state to "learn" about public health. And we talked to some traditional birth attendants and a traditional healer and saw a woman who was possessed by the spirits, literally seizing her way down the village road to the closest temple. We saw a mobile health clinic and talked with yet another ASHA. On our last day, we saw the Chittorgarh Fort, which - according to Wikipedia - is one of the largest forts in Asia. (Good thing no one mentioned that to me while we were there.) We met with a group of girls who were staying at a hostel specifically created to give members of scheduled tribes the opportunity to go to school. That was frustrating because these girls didn't have the ability to stand up and say their names without giggling, despite being 16 and 17. There was also the fact that the girls spoke in Hindi, and despite taking 2.5 hours of Hindi a day for the last month, I still couldn't understand a word that they said because they were mumbling and speaking way too fast for me. We took two sleeper trains, slept in a beautiful hotel on the banks of Lake Pichola and spent another night sleeping in one giant room.

It's been a long week, and I'm so happy to be back in Delhi for a while. But I'm exhausted and I feel like I've been repeatedly beaten with a lead pipe. I feel sort of discouraged because I still can't speak in Hindi, but I also haven't had any time to sit down and study Hindi. At varying points during the day and night, I feel like there's an alien in my tummy.