the requisite post about spirituality in india

In the United States, India is synonymous with spirituality, and there is some truth in that statement. I've stumbled upon dozens of temples in my week here. Right now, I am sitting at our host family's kitchen table, and there is a shrine in a small alcove to my right that features a statue of Ganesh, a photograph of our host mother's in-laws and a burning stick of incense. I can hear bells ringing from the small Hindu temple that stands on the corner. Images of the Hindu gods are everywhere and featured very casually at that.

One of these religious sites that I didn't even know was here was the Lotus Temple. This shows my ignorance, I suppose, but I sort of assumed that it was a Hindu temple since we're in India and about 80% of the population is Hindu. However, it's a Bahá'i temple. I didn't even know that Bahá'i was a thing until this afternoon, even though I pass this structure every day on the Metro ride to class. 

what to wear in india

The first thing I did when I got all of the pre-departure materials for this trip was look at the information about what to wear, and there was a long section about what Indians deem to be appropriate or not. The first note was that all clothing has to be clean and ironed and without holes. But then the restrictions got, well, pretty strict.

"...we will insist that you meet the standards of conservative modest dress."

"Tight or revealing clothing is seen as an explicit invitation for sexual attention."

"All shirts must be long enough to cover the hips and amply cover your bum."

SIT also made it pretty clear that full salwar suits and kurtas, which are traditional Indian dress, were sort of the norm and that we'd probably have to invest in a few pieces while we're here. Packing was a struggle because I don't really own any tunics or clothes that cover my bum, and I'm - to put it frankly - pretty cheap when it comes to buying clothing and most of my favorite t-shirts and jeans are ripped to shreds from years of wear or pulled from the racks of Goodwill.

We spent a lot of time during orientation talking about what to wear and what not to wear, and this culminated with a shopping spree of sorts with our Hindi teachers. We all trekked to a department store called Westside, and our teachers helped us pick out kurtas and match them with dupattas (or scarves) and churidars (which is really just a fancy way of saying leggings). Here's the thing about that, though. The kurtas we all picked out are sort of...formal looking. They look pretty manufactured, not handmade or unique really. They look a little bit too clean, too new.

I'm lucky to be living in a homestay with a 19-year old girl named Payal, and she's been an invaluable resource in the style department. Payal took us to a local store yesterday to get kurtas. It was sort of like "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy," but it's more like "Indian Eye for the White Chicks." The kurtas at this store were much less expensive and much more simple than the ones at the department store (which were under the sign of "Ethnic Clothing." That really should have tipped one of us off about the lack of authenticity of those things.) But these kurtas were great. Case and point --

Cute and functional and not too gaudy. I even got the matching down perfectly. My churidar and dupatta totally match the burgundy red of the flowers, and I bought a burnt orange cardigan at the market the other day that goes so well with the mustard yellow of the kurta. My host sister told me that mustard is, "really in" this season, too. I was pretty stoked to wear this get-up on my first day of classes.

But I still felt like I was playing dress-up. In the Program Center, it was fine, but that's also because we're all at the same level of awkward. But we were taking the Metro home after class today, and Sarah and I were definitely getting stared down by some of the girls our own age in the subway car. When I think about it, I realize how ridiculous we all must look. Here are these girls who are clearly not from around these parts trying to wear Indian clothing, when most girls our own age are wearing Western-style clothing.

I'm an American, and nothing I wear will hide the fact that I'm not Indian (although my host mother did look at me while we were watching TV last night and remarked, "You sort of look like you could maybe be Indian," and I'll take what I can get). I understand that I need to be respectful, and I need to dress conservatively and modestly. I already get stared at enough, and showing any sort of cleavage would make it even worse. My new rule of thumb is this -- I'm only buying Indian clothing that I could see myself wearing in the States. Maybe not in the same way, but if I can't see myself adapting it in some way for daily wear in the U.S., I probably will feel out of place wearing it here.

Any sense of style that I had in the States has been thrown out the window, and I'm starting from scratch. I feel like I'm 13 all over again, trying to figure out what's cool and what's tacky. But tomorrow, I'm definitely wearing my good old American blue jeans.

coming home

Our bedroom for the next two months.

We got assigned our homestays yesterday, and that was sort of a stressful process. We knew that we'd be placed with an Indian family somewhere in Delhi, but they didn't tell us if our family would have kids or pets or anything until the 11th hour. In fact, we didn't know who our roommate would be until the last minute either. We were all watching the Bollywood movie "3 Idiots" in the Program Center as our host parents came to pick us up. Sarah, my roommate, and I were the first ones to leave. It was like being a puppy and waiting for someone to adopt you. Simultaneously sad to be leaving the group but totally excited to have a home, all at the same time.

I'm in the Lajpat Nagar neighborhood. It's right near a big market, which is not going to be good for my wallet, and we're only a 15-minute walk from the Metro. Our host mother is the cutest woman. This isn't her first time at the rodeo, though. In fact, I believe we're at least her third set of host daughters with SIT. Auntie-ji can cook up a storm, has beautiful long hair and loves watching "Comedy Circus." In fact, we all watched "Comedy Circus" last night. A lot was lost in translation, since the show is in Hindi, but I still giggled. Fun fact: Spit takes are funny, no matter what continent you're on. Our host mother also has a daughter who is 19 and a student at Delhi University.

Our building.

As I mentioned, I'm sharing a room with another girl from our program. There was a rumor floating around that the roommate pairs might have to share a double bed, but that's fortunately not the case. My one complaint, if you can call it a complaint, is that the bed is very, very firm to the point that I'm sort of sure that it's a table with some padding on it. Koreans like firm beds too, so I'm relatively used to it, and I'm just grateful to have a bed and a host family in the first place. We've got a lovely balcony, too. One fact of Indian life that I'm still adjusting to is the noise. From our window, you can hear car horns beeping; packs of dogs barking; a man riding his bicycle, ringing the bell and chanting; and shouting. Shouting from kids, from parents, from everywhere. We're also pretty sure we heard a flock of pigeons fling themselves at our window this morning.

I'm trying hard to act like I'm part of the family rather than just a paying guest, but I still don't know where that balance is. I'm sure I'll be walking the tightrope throughout the next couple of months, but I'm glad I finally have a place to rest my head. (The food is delicious, too, but I have to learn how to say no to second, and sometimes third, helpings. Auntie-ji likes to make sure we get enough to eat, and she's a mean cook.)

Our neck of the woods in Delhi.

what i've learned during orientation

Tomorrow is our group's last day of orientation, and it's been an informative couple of days. We've been living out of our suitcases and barraged with a ton of information about safety, health, academics and Indian culture as a whole. Here are some of the gems that I've picked up along the way.

A sign for the "Women Only" car on the Delhi Metro.

1. What you wear is important. Kurtas and salwar suits are the norm for woman, and if you're a Western woman who wants to be taken seriously in India, you better dress the part. Our program of 21 is made up of 18 women, so what to wear has been the talk of the town. We're finally going shopping tomorrow, so I'll be able to show you all the colorful goodies and what I'll be wearing for the next three months.

2. Things are cheap. A bottle of water is 15 Rupees. A ride on the Metro is 32 Rupees round-trip, although that depends on which stop you get off at. A cup of coffee is about 80 Rupees. A good meal will run you a couple hundred Rupees. A kurta, or tunic, will cost anywhere from 350-500 Rupees. Now consider the fact that $1.00 is 50 Rupees, and you'll get a sense for how much things cost.

3. The Metro rules. It's really clean, and there's even a women's car in the front. (That's not for segregation; it's for safety.) It's quick and efficient and wonderful. I have a feeling that's how I'm going to rely on getting around while in Delhi.

A smokestack located next to the park...near Gandhi's grave.

4. Smog does not rule. I've got a little bit of a sore throat because of the pollution, and (not to be vulgar) my snot was black the other day. There's a constant haze over the city. It's a little brutal. I'm hoping I adapt, but I won't die if I don't. I'm just grateful that I don't have asthma.

5. Things aren't always what they seem. When I arrived at the hotel, there was a swastika painted on the door. In fact, there are swastikas almost everywhere. In Indian culture, that's a sign for good luck -- not for Nazi Germany.

6. Delhi belly is a thing. We've been continually warned about the dangers of street food and not to be alarmed if we start having diarrhea from the food. They told us at our Program Center that they've been taking it nice on us for our first week, but the food's only going to get spicier as the semester goes on. I don't know if my GI tract will be able to handle that...

This is not anti-Semitic pottery. I promise.

7. India is a vegetarian's dreamland. Everything is labeled "Veg" or "Non-Veg," and every place will have Veg options. Most importantly, it's all delicious.

8. I don't know how to read Hindi. I promise I made flash cards, but I really don't have any idea what I'm doing or saying. Sorry, SIT.

9. Indian toilets are essentially sideways urinals that you have to squat over. It's tough on the legs, but if you want a tutorial, you should watch this video. They showed it to us during orientation. It's a laugh and a half, let me tell you. He's the Napoleon Dynamite of Tamil Nadu, and he can use a latrine like it's no one's business.

I'm still learning, and I'm still getting oriented. SIT gave us an Internet stick that gives us access to Internet anywhere in India. I know it's not actually called an Internet stick. It's actually a USB drive that blinks and lets me log onto Facebook; I think it's called an "external modem." But Internet stick just sounds way better. Let me live the dream, and I'll tell you more about my adventures as they happen.

i made it here!

I'm here in Delhi! I made it alive! I'm staying in a hotel right now with the other members of my program for our orientation. We're shuffling between the Program Center and the hotel and other excursions in the city, including Gandhi's gravesite this afternoon. On our first visit to SIT's Program Center on Wednesday, the staff gave us garlands and tied a red string around our wrists and put the red dye on our foreheads. I know this has some significant meaning, but it's sort of lost on me right now. I'm already digging this city, and I'm ready to explore and to make it my own. Orientation is over on Saturday, and we'll move into our homestay then. I'm getting better access to Internet sometime tomorrow afternoon, so I'll give you all a better indication of my life when I figure it out myself. Hopefully I'll figure out what it all means by May.