Lindy Jones and the Temole of Doom

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Not too much to say about that, it just cracked me up. It's the title of the DVD that I won for most accurately pinning the (demon) tail on Malinowski, the founder of modern anthropology (and, of course, a rather racist Imperialist too). I tried to convince my sisters that we should watch it instead of Mummy 3 the other day, but I failed. I guess Lindy Jones just didn't sound exciting enough. Not that it mattered anyway, since the power went out the moment we started watching. More on that later.

So, things are good! I've been shamed into writing again by a friend who is managing to write in his blog every day. I'm not promising anything, though!

I'm continuing to settle in. I wore my first sari yesterday! (Pictures coming soon, I promise. I just have to get back my camera connecty-thingy from my sister.) We went to two wedding receptions in one evening. Definition of attending an Indian reception: filing past the bride and groom, standing for a quick photograph (NOT smiling, why do you Americans smile in photographs anyway? stupid, goofy thing to do, clearly), throwing a present in their parents' faces, and then hurrying offstage. Oh, and then you get fed. That seems to be why most people go to these things. The second reception we went to was for a "very important man" apparently, and there must have been at least 1,000 people there. The bride's sari was woven with gold thread (real gold thread) and it cost 4,000 Rupees. Wow! (Yeah, that's...$100.) Translating rupees to dollars is particularly unhelpful here, which is different from all my other travel experiences. I've had to relearn the appropriate values for everything...and then the "you're being ripped off" values for everything. Big to-do because I paid too much for my sari blouse and petticoat, which wasn't interpreted as me being cheated by a manipulative salesman, but me being incredibly, incredibly stupid. So that wasn't so nice. UNTIL later when my amaa saw what the petticoat was...

"This included?"

"Yes."

"Included in price?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well. Then, that's OK. OK fine."

Apparently it wasn't a petticoat, it was an actual skirt, and I hadn't been ripped off as astronomically as they'd thought.

Clothing is still a source of fascination... Apart from the utter craziness of putting on a sari, one interesting fact is that everyone changes clothes when they arrive home. My apaa puts on a lunghi, a traditional garment like a skirt made out of a long cloth, and a towel over his shoulders. My sisters put on sweatpants and t-shirts, and my amaa puts on a nighty. (Nighties are very versatile garments.) Once I stayed in my salwar kameez a little too long...not ok. Now that I'm biking back and forth to school I need to shower the moment I get home anyway, but it means that I sleep in my afternoon clothes, rather than wear my pajamas in the afternoon.

Which brings us to power cuts! They happen. A lot. There are scheduled power cuts during the day, and then, well, you never know when they'll hit again! For a while, we were having (beside the usual noontime power cut) cuts from 9-10 pm, and 4-6 am. Terrible. It is just too hot to sleep without a fan. My host family gets the air conditioner started in the one room that has it before the first cut, so they can go to sleep and it's still bearable. Me though, I'm on the roof and once the fan cuts out (it also wakes me up the moment it turns on or off) I just can't sleep. Now I am used to the cuts and schedule my routine around them - I get ready for bed before 9, make sure to light the candle before the current goes, watch the lights disappear outside, read by candlelight for an hour, then make sure I'm ready to fall asleep the moment the fan starts! And you need to time things like watching movies, using the computer etc. I don't know much about whatever local/national energy crisis/normalcy this is a factor of, but I look forward to finding out.

Another interesting part of living here... trash. (I'm paraphrasing part of this from an email I wrote to a friend... hope you don't mind!) Trash is everywhere. There is no widespread infrastructure for picking it up, separating it, recycling it, disposing of it, etc. So, for westerners here, it leads to a bit of a conundrum. Say you're standing in the street, talking to some friends, and eating a candy bar. When you finish, what to do with the wrapper? Well, you could go inside and throw it in a waste bin. But you know that whoever cleans that waste bin is going to walk outside and dump it right out in the curb where you're standing. So you might as well finish it and then let it drop. This is very hard for me to do, since about 17 years of "don't litter" just don't allow me to do this. But putting it in a waste bin is a very pointless practice, and I recognize the futility of this. I think this is what it is like for many people who are trying to spread change on either a grassroots or a larger level in India.

One thing I forgot to mention about traffic - it is a very aural experience. Everyone honks constantly, and no one looks behind them or in their mirrors - so if someone is coming up behind you, you learn about it from the horn. Likewise, we use our cycle bells to let people know when we're passing them. (And sometimes, people just honk because they want to. That's a little annoying.) Now I've learned what is a scooter horn, what a rickshaw, what a bus (translation: MOVE OR YOU WILL BE PLOWED OVER), what is a truck, etc. It means it's a deafening experience, and probably not the safest but...it works and I like it!

A little tidbit to leave you with: even animals understand the hierarchy in which they stand in India. The other day I saw a dog crossing the road - he looked both ways before scurrying across. A minute later, I saw a cow. Oblivious to the crazy honking and speeding around him, he plodded straight across what amounted to four lanes of traffic. I thought for sure he was going to cause a huge accident - I mean, these cows are huge, and the roads are small - but of course, traffic did everything it could NOT to hit him. Everyone swerved, slammed on the breaks, went onto the dirt shoulder, crossed into the other lane, etc. Smart cow, he knows he totally owns them.

Photographs are on their way!

p.s. My head bob = awesome! I've finally got it down, and I've been doing it so much that I even do it when I'm with other Americans or in class. It is the most useful gesture ever - you use it for hello, goodbye, thank you, please, you complete jerk you just cut me off, etc. Love the head bob. I can tell I'm going to be using this back into the US until I can break myself of the habit!

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