First impressions are the best

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The weather when we arrived in Bangalore was beautiful, perfectly cool and perfectly humid. We had some drivers to chauffeur us from the airport to our hotel in Ganga Nagar. THANK GOODNESS. I'll explain why in a bit. The vehicle of choice was a van similar in style to a VW minibus, but with a bit more headroom and squishy seats that could seat 10 people comfortably. We six participants piled in the back to peer out the curtained windows, our guides hopped in the front and we were off on our road adventure.

And what an adventure it was. Anyone who has traveled to India knows: the traffic there operates on completely different rules than it does in the states. The white lines mean basically nothing. You drive in a mostly-straight line, use your horn often to let people know where you are, and stay on the left side of the road, but beyond that there are few rules to follow. Well, don't hit other cars/motorcycles, I guess. Oh, and the cows. Don't hit the cows. Because since they are sacred they wander the roads.

So for most of our 40-minute drive to Ganganagar I was staring as the variety of motorbikes, cars (some colorful and outlandish, some normal) that were often only literally inches from my nose. There were many buses, almost always full to the brim. One bus had a boy who was hanging out an open door as it drove along; when we stopped temporarily he hopped out and jogged around before jumping back onto the moving bus. Some men pee when they need to go and can find a wall. Almost no one wore shorts or anything above the knee. Most women wore saris or tunic and pants, but there were a few that wore jeans and t-shirts. Only once did I see a pair of shoulders, and those on a young boy working construction. Stray dogs roam the streets, and there are people everywhere. All the time. On the roads, by the roads, near the roads, walking, biking, chatting, laughing, sitting, anything, but there are people and there are a lot.

I like our hotel, though it is not very luxurious by American standards. I can hear the prayers over the speakers outside, which I like. I lucked out and got a room to myself on the second floor with some nice natural lighting and a comfy bed. To get the lights to work and the A/C to turn on, you have to stick your room key in a slot by the door. I didn't know this and when I first got here I went downstairs and told them my lights didn't work. They were so gracious, after asking me if I had put my key in the slot (duh) they actually sent someone up to show me how to do it. So now I know: some hotels have key-slots to activate the room's electricity. My largest snafu today came when my room phone rang (which is, incidentally, in the bathroom. Not sure why.) and I answered it to hear a man say, "housekeeping." "Okay." I said, then waited. Did they have a message for me? After a period of awkward silence it became apparent that they wanted something from me. Unfortunately I didn't know what they wanted. So we ended up having an awkward conversation where I almost hung up, or was silent, and so did he, and then I did hang up and went outside my room to talk to them since they were right there. I told them I didn't understand what they had wanted. In my defense, how could I? They hadn't actually asked me for anything. Well, we ended up not really communicating and he and his buddy smiled that awkward smile Indian people give you when you're not communicating well or you've done something wrong and they feel uncomfortable. Turns out I think they were seing if I had anything to launder, so next time I guess I should say "I don't need anything, thanks."

In the afternoon Reggie, Patrick and I walked around our street a bit to get a bite. We visited a KFC and a Domino's, and the boys chose Domino's (I wasn't eating). It was on the second story, which meant I was able to watch the busy street, and dogs and cows, while we waited. Afterwards I made them visit an alleyway I had scoped out as a possible unicycling location. That's going to be difficult, unicyclig here, because there aren't parking lots like I'm used to. I need large, relatively flat ground, where I won't get run over by speeding autorickshaws, and I might not get that here. Anyway, turns out the alleyway led to a pretty cool graveyard back behind the houses. Maybe I won't practice there.

Dinner is what has really made today fantastic. The dinner tonight was a reception with all of the Asia-Pacific School in Smart Structures students, which includes people from universities in Japan, China, Korea, U.S. and India. We started with a toast of Kingfisher beer, then everyone had to introduce themselves individually during this time. Of course, with 50 participants this took a large amount of time. This was happening on the top floor of our hotel, on a terrace which had some 6' walls that were stone on bottom half, glass up top, that looked over the city, and in particular down onto the roof terrace of the next building owner. I was leaned up against this wall, my back to the building, but at some point during the talktalk I turned around and was an Indian girl on the roof, watching this large group of foreigners right next door. She was wearing the tunic and leggings that you see in place of saris on some women, and a veil, all brightly colored, so I spotted her right off, grinned, and waved. She smiled and waved back and I turned back around to pay attention. Later on I peeked again to see if she was still there and saw that she had a friend with her now, and when they saw me look at them they collapsed into giggles and lash-fluttering. And that's when it hit me.

They were flirting with me. With my hair braided back, my male-styled tank and my guy's button-up t-shirt on top, they thought I was some blond foreigner flirting with them. I almost collapsed into giggles right then, it was so ridiculous. I did turn back to the room and tried not to attract their attention anymore but the damage was done. I have flirted with Indian girls. What's worse, I think they were only around 14 or so. I was definitely embarassed, when I realized what was going on, but the humor of the situation was not beyond me. When we broke from the terrace to sit down to eat I pulled Reggie and Patrick over to wave at them too, just for fun.

Dinner was one of the most amazing meals of my life. We sat and had plates in front of us, and waiters kepts coming around and offering bits of this, bits of that, whatever they had. Anytime they offered me something I just smiled and said "yes, please" regardless of what it was. I had potatoes, chicken, prawns, baby corn, tofu, fruit, veggies, and more, all cooked in an Indian kebab-style. I was getting a little full from the delicious food when I listened to someone talking next to me and realized that these were only the appetizers. There was a buffet next door with even more delicious food. I had veggie rice, egg-fried rice, dal (a tasty mush made of lentils), some lamb -in-mystery-sauce, some chicken-in-mystery-sauce. I piled the sauce-foods on the rice-foods on my plate and took it back to my seat. Then waiters brought around dosa and naan, two types of flatbreads. Dosa has a consistency that reminds me of steamed buns and naan is like pita, but not really.

I'm happy of how I ate tonight because I think I ate this food in a proper indian manner. The left hand stayed strictly in my lap and did not come anywhere near my food. I used my right hand to tear of bits of the naan or dosa, then laid those bits over the sauce-and-rice-and-meat and pinched the edges together to get a nice packet of flatbread-and-delicious. As I ate I conversed a lot with some Indian professors near me and I tried to learn more about Indian culture, what to expect, what to eat, how to eat, and much more.

The meal was concluded with the waiters handing around two bits of leaves wrapped up like a packet on a toothpick. I, unfortunately, thought it was more food and popped one into my mouth before finishing my ice cream. This matters because it was paan, an after-meal item meant to help digestion. The flavor is really strange. There's no way I can describe it, though I can describe the consistency. It's like chewing a leaf. Well, that's because it is a leaf. Kind of a thicker one, though, like a palm frond. What was really strange, besides the taste, was that I felt it doing something to my stomach. Kind of like when I eat mint and I can feel it in my stomach. The taste was so overpowering at first I found it a bit nauseating. The other kids that tried it definitely did not enjoy it either; it was hilarious to watch unwitting students pop one into their mouth and then make a really strange face. I tried to eat the first one fast so I could finish my ice cream, but didn't really enjoy it. I tried the second one, despite the first one being less-than-stellar, more out of trying to outdo the people around me than anything else. That's when I realized it's not meant to be chewed and eaten, paan is meant to be chewed and sucked on. It's not the leaves that are useful, it's the juices. And sure enough, the juices mae my stomach feel nice, though not if I had too much at once. Fun learning experience of the day.

After that we chatted with some of the students from other countries, and then I headed off to my room to write these first two entries. I figured I better stay up and do this now--if I keep having so many new experiences every day I can't afford to fall behind on writing them down!

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