Pullin' My ArmRitsar

I know it might sound strange-Maybe because it is strange. I had a really great weekend. But oddly enough, the highlights of my weekend were the car rides to and from Armritsar.

We ride out of the mountains, down the spiraling, sharp streets of the Himalayas and west to the border of India and Pakistan. Our final destination: Hotel Indus in Armritsar, about 50 paces across the street from the most sacred Sikh temple in existence, The Golden Temple.

Standing in that golden temple (and when I say golden temple, I mean the thing is made of GOLD) in my headscarf at 3 a.m. with a full moon screaming its powerful existence, I feel something I have only felt a few times in my life. The beautiful marble pillars surrounding the temple are crowded with people: Sikhs praying, meditating, and standing in line to enter the temple. Speakers amplify the soulful drums, harmonium, and prayerful song being conducted from inside the temple walls. Every other person is singing along to the beautiful Punjabi words that I cannot translate, yet inexplicably feel as if I understand them. I feel God's presence-or at least the presence of the thought of something greater-within the hundreds of souls surrounding.

When I'm playing music, or rather mostly listening to Paulo, Tim, or other magnificently talented musician friends of mine, I often wonder about a soul's interaction in music. Sometimes you can hear it and sometimes you can't. When I hear my own soul coming through my own, beautiful Takamine guitar, there are few things as glorious.

This music was as soulful as I'd ever heard. The whole city was filled with inner prayer, outward prayer, and the most calming night sky illuminated by a full moon and the reflection of the temple's pure gold on the sacred water separating it from its marble exterior. After a long car ride, a luxurious Thai meal, and a few hours of serenity in the temple, I went back to the hotel and the rest of my weekend was filled with chaos.

It is official: I hate cities in India.

I despise them with my entire being.

Trash lies everywhere and stinks the streets. Piss fills the air in just about every street corner, as Indian men have no decency and let their flies down wherever they desire.

Cities are hot. Too hot. The roads are crowded with people, animals, rickshaws, trash, and recklessly flying cars. I have smelled many magnificent things since entering this country, but the city is not pleasing to the olfactory senses.

It is dangerous and stressful and the second you walk out of a building, you need a shower and quite possibly a whole new wardrobe because this one smells like shit. Every store sign is run-down and dirty. Everything is dirty. Everyone is dirty. Including you.

This life is stressful. I am always stressed out, and this I am not used to, as I have graciously and quite successfully rid my life of much of my previous years' stress. These car rides, however. These car rides I will accent on.

(Many exciting, stressful, and noteworthy things happened the past four days that are probably worth documenting at some point. But in the present, I'm just going to keep writing.)

Only listening to soulful music, reading soulful words from my books, and looking out my window to glance at the lives so different from my own fly by, I am inspired and deeply motivated. Have you ever felt your soul rise within you? Have you ever really just touched on words that you truly felt and could never explain before? This is what happened to me in the car this weekend, riding through small indian villages and getting from Point A to Point B (Point A and Point B not actually being the best parts of my trip at all in the end)..

I became overcame with immense gratitude. I sat in silent prayer and gave thanks during much of my ride. Thankful to be exactly where I was, thankful for my family, thankful for my friends, thankful to be alive and healthy. Sometimes I really feel something powerful and unexplained deep within me. This is what I like to believe is that Something Unexplained, Universe Creating, God-Figured power. This unexplained power from within, I have recently discovered, is not just my personal believe, but the essence of Buddhism: that God is in us all, that at the core of our being lives all things. We are all connected because all things living are made of life itself. We are each just one small piece of a puzzle; Of one large-ass puzzle.And in meditation-in ridding oneself of the ego and its senses, one can reach nirvana, one can reach God himself/itself/yourself (all terms interchangeable). This Buddhists believe. This I believe. And this is why I am so thankful to be living in the most powerful Tibetan Buddhist community left in Asia!

Until recently, and thanks to being where I am, I forgot what it was like to talk to yourself. Or maybe it's not even myself. I make wishes inwardly and I give thanks many times during my day. I'm always happier when I'm reflecting on what's good and focusing on what I want-even if it's just a shout up into the clouds (or into my soul) to some really magnificent being to make sure my Indian cab driver refrains from killing me in the next five hours.

So, Communication-that IS the whole point of my internship and trip to India.

Communicating with myself and what I believe to be the spirit inside me is what makes me happiest at the end of the day. It is a relationship I must tend to. A relationship I must honor more than all else. And in meditation, prayer, deep thought, or simply daydreaming about what I've got and what I desire, I feel as alive as I imagine I would if had just reached sturdy ground after a parachuted landing out of an aircraft.

June 23, 2010

I mentioned the ups and downs of Dharamsala. Today was an up day-a day so high that I'm not sure it will ever reach the low it has reached in the past. Work will always be frustrating-this we have come to terms with-but nothing else needs to be frustrating or stressful from thus forth.

Work was great today. I only had three of my women and we all started out in great moods that never went away. After doing multiple worksheets and a lesson of new vocabulary, we made bracelets and hung out. They asked me if I "had boyfriend" and thought it so intriguing that a woman could have a boyfriend and not be getting married. It's bizarre to communicate a reality to women who view it with such drastically different perceptions. One of the three women is married and she must be a few years younger than myself. I am tempted to ask about her marriage-after all, they've asked plenty of questions about my love life

Kajmuhari put a binti between my eyes and dressed me in Inder's wedding scarves. Brittany came in the room and Kaj did the same to her and we spent at least 10 solid minutes taking pictures and messing around with traditional Indian garb. On occasion Kaj would kiss Brittany and I on the cheek and giggle. I definitely think we've reached comfort zones that Indian women reach with one another and it is very cool. Very welcoming, considering we are only there for two hours a day.

After work and a quick lunch at home (daal as usual-with a birthday cake for Anita!), we headed to the Tibetan Library where we were able to sit with a monk and have a very special afternoon. Born in Tibet and belonging to the Dalai Lama's temple here in our region, his way with words was both powerful and childlike. He talked of Tibetan suffering, world suffering, and the reasons for the suffering of mankind. Referring to Buddha and the Bodhisattva way, he explained that there is enough natural disaster and harm in the world for us to have to worry about man-made harm.

He drew a parallel to a group of four men in jail about to be executed in 4 hours. "Do you think the men would be fighting in their last four hours on Earth or do you think they would be consoling one another? Coming together in kindness and support?" Then look at the human life. The short, 80 year averaged human life on this magnificent planet that has been here long before our time. In our single life's time, should we really waste our potential energy on hatred and suffering? Why do we not live harmoniously and with love for all beings? Our time is so short yet we forget to embrace each beautiful second with the honor it deserves.

The adorable old man, dressed in his traditional red suite, drew another parallel to material and sensual desires. There are two Indian friends-one is rich and one is poor. The rich man talks of his great plans to expand his home, upgrade his things, and then live contently once he has worked hard to do such. After years of hard work and suffering, the man has finally collected his things and tells his friend that he can now be happy. The poorer man says to his friend, "I've been living in contentment this whole time. I've been here waiting for you."

To be content with what you have-to be thankful for the present day, is the richest life to live. It is within your own mind and your own perception to change your state of contentment and happiness. You could die tomorrow, so why not love today?

I wish I would have taken notes this afternoon, but I guess my small storage center up top will have to suffice. I have drawn a grand conclusion that becomes helpful when asked about my religious beliefs. I would first like to note that I strongly despise any question regarding another's personal beliefs. Religion is personal and unless someone desires to learn about your beliefs and experiences, I find any questioning unnecessary. But I do know for a fact, after studying Native American Shamanism and Tibetan Buddhist Shamanism that I am indeed a Shaman. I am a Buddhist. It's a way of life-a way of loving yourself and loving the world-that I feel was created just for me. I've never, in my soon-to-be 21 years of life, felt like I belonged to a sect or a church or a sacred text. But every mantra, every prayer, every word from the Bodhisattva way is like magic to my soul. And to any open-minded, loving being, I can't say that they could be any other way.

After doing some necessary shopping in Mcleod, I met up with Mariam for a rooftop Americano before we met the crew for Anita's birthday dinner. The cafe is definitely my favorite one on Mcleod. We sat between a pair of monks and a group of Europeans smoking their long, thin cigarettes. Monkeys roamed around our balconies like squirrels.

I had a great few hours of shopping in the small Tibetan stores and making conversation with the very interested shop owners. But when I finally sat down for a much needed coffee, I opened the book my mother has been pestering me to read for years. Halfway through the book, I read Elizabeth Gilbert's explanation of her first successful, yet fearful meditation experience. It was like reading my own thoughts from the past and brought so much comfort, it was nearly overwhelming. I felt like my book was speaking to me. "It's okay! Don't be afraid! Keep meditating. Explore the unknown. What better place to do it than with the Tibetan monks in your backyard?"

After a morning of fun and an afternoon of spiritual revelations and inspirational words from a monk of utmost peace and love, we ate at our favorite restaurant in Mcleodganj. Mariam and I split MoMo's and a mushroom pizza that made my stomach giggle. Despite the enjoyable Indian cuisine, I will always have a hankering for a good pizza. Always. As we had just discussed our favorite reds the day before, Amy bought a bottle of Chianti for the two of us to share. All I will say is that it was glorious. And that, aside from craving the company of my PEOPLE back home, this one luxury has been my other soft spot. If I can't have the company of my loved ones, then of course I deserve chianti.

The great day ends in a Monsoon throughout the night and I am yet again unable to get the sleep I want. No matter how beautiful the day, the storms at night make me homesick-homesick for the familiar, for the safe, and the contentment that allows my body to rest. I must simply take to my own advice: Be content with the present-even if it is in a dark room with no power and mother nature screaming in your ear.

This is Apervi. And India would not be as comforting, fun, or entertaining without her.

Wits Without Words

It's amazing, the extent communication can reach without words. And I may not necessarily mean without any words necessarily, but really just common words. One of my women, Vooja, has been making eye-contact with me when one of the girls acts like they understand something that they actually don't. She is quick and helps me teach the others when they don't understand something by explaining to them in Hindi. We work together, yet we can't really converse about this strange partnership we've formed. She even gets the sly remarks I say between teaching them things and smiles to herself. I find myself glancing over at her out of fear that she knows I am not a teacher and I don't know my English as well as one should when teaching a group of self-motivated and quick to learn Indian women.

I'm also starting to understand the women when they talk to one another in Hindi. I don't know how and even more so do not know how to explain it. I know when they are talking about something completely irrelevant and I can definitely understand when Aarti is trying to describe an English phrase or word to others in Hindi. I know when they are making fun of one another. I know when they are talking about me. And, to my good graces, I can tell they have very few negative exchanges in regards of me. Unlike some other volunteers, I feel confident with them. We are friends. Can you be friends with someone that you can't have an intimate conversation with? Sometimes I so desire to share my passions, my worries, and the beauties in my life with them. But for now, pictures and basic English are what we are limited to.

We sit cross-legged in a circle on a bed in a small room. It's something so simple, yet so intimate and comforting. I'll find friendly arms on my leg as we play a game or cover an English lesson. Inder's daughter reminds me of Mr. Darcy (yes, I'm comparing a child to a cat) in the sense that she is the skinniest little thing, yet seems to expand like Stretch Armstrong. If she didn't live in the happiest home with the most lovely parents that give me hope for Indian marriages, then I would most certainly try to stuff her into my carry-on.

Kingfisher Strong

June 9, 2010

Today was great. We went to work and ended up hanging out at Inder's house for our two hours that we were supposed to work this Saturday. Aarti and some of the other younger girls dropped into the house and hung out. Jitender also came over and showed us a grant they'd written for resources and was telling us about a grant for a library that they want us to help with.

Inder's husband and precious little daughter were home as well today. Her husband is sweet and caring and he seems to have a great relationship with Inder. I was surprised/relieved but I guess I could have guessed as meetings are held in his house to support women's empowerment. Inder's daughter is the cutest thing with the most darling voice I've ever heard. We played Minimum, the ever-famous Indian card game and Inder's daughter and I were on a team while all the Indians taught us white girls how to play. We had a blast.

I taught Aarti how to play rock/paper/scissors later. It took a while but she got it. Kind of like my fish joke..

The house is four small rooms with simple beds and simple slated walls. We all sat on Inder's bed and played cards/hung out for two hours. Where else do you sit? Usually we sit in the one common room on a big rug on the floor. Today was cool though. We had chai, watermelon, cantelope, and lemon tea all in bed. They put salt on their fruit and I thought I was going to vomit as I popped my first watermelon slice into my mouth. Inder's husband was constantly worrying about us and making sure we were comfortable. I was pretty much forced to shove more fruit down my throat and have no idea how my gag reflexes did not kick in.

Pummy picked us up and we picked these great little blueberries off the tree we walk by to get to the car (it has become a tradition with us all. Pummy told us the name of the berry but like many Hindi names, I forgot) Pummy also got us cds from his store and I am verrry excited to jam out at home like we do in his car.

After lunch at home and a quick meeting with the staff, six of us headed up to McLoud for the day. We walked the streets and had a great time. I am so thankful for these amazing people. There is never a dull moment. We are always chuckling, getting into shenanigans, or off to see or do something magnificent. I feel very blessed.

Apurvi, one of my favorite people of all Dharamsala, took us to a small hippie town about 20 minutes away from the heart of McLoud (well..it's like an 8 minute ride in a rickshaw!) I ordered a Kingfisher-strong at a restaurant that didn't exactly serve beer. The waiter told me I was, "special customer," and we watched him walk down to a market and buy me a beer. He wrapped it in newspaper, brought me a cup, and told me to stick the bottle under the table. Hops have never tasted so glorious in my life.

Apurvi bought us the most decadent chocolate cake in India and we went to town on it before we headed home. Sonali slipped and twisted her ankle on the way towards the town square and it became an unfortunate fiasco (although we still managed to be consistently chuckling). It was a fantastic outing followed by a delicious dinner at home that Julia, Daniella, and Ellie helped Ranesh cook!

Every time I go out on an adventure, I look around and see only brown people. We have 21 volunteers and I guarantee 80% of us are white. "Look at me and my brown people," I say on a day to day basis. It just gets funnier and funnier because it simply just happens. My mixie friend Ev with his long dreadlocks, Mariam from Pakistan, Apurvi and Sonali from India, and Venus who is Chinese Canadian. And then me. The good old Cashew white girl. Gotta love me my brown people.

My evening ended with a hot bucket shower (after Apurvi harrassed Manesh to fix the water for us!), some great chat sessions on the balcony, and the first 30 minutes of Mortal Combat with Maxine, Mariam, Ev, n Jake.

Another good day in Himachel Pradesh.

Snack, Smack, Snake

Today I brought some extra materials to work, such as the guitar, some playing cards, and other such things. This came in handy, as only half the women showed up and we didn't split up in groups to work. Instead we played games and hung out for 1 and 1/2 hours...with just one fourth of our time devoted to English lessons. English lessons, however, were very beneficial. For not wanting to work at all, the women showed me that they retained much of the information we started yesterday. I have faith that we will move at a fairly fast pace.

First thing to be done today was to jam while one of our women sung in Hindi. It was pretty sweet. We then played pictionary with English words and it was a hit. We made two teams and there was a lot of intensity and a lot of laughter.

We followed this game by the mindless Slapjack. IT was also a hit and became even more intense. Every time they smacked the pile of cards they would yell, "SnAcK!" After the game I gave a short lesson on the differences between snack, smack, and snake. They seemed very grateful.

I love playing games like this because you find out so much about a person's personality despite any language barriers. Aarti is the biggest cheater. She is ridiculous and it made me laugh to see the shit she tried to pull over and over again. Some women are laid back and silently very good at the games. Others are loud and mask their lack of skill with comedy or false intensity. However diverse they are, I love them all. We have a lot of fun together for not being able to have any long-standing conversations.

Some of the women (the ones that are more outgoing and rambunctious) are already very comfortable with me; Leaning on my leg as we sit in a circle and play games or teach, linking arms and talking personally to me in a group of people, or aiming jokes and sarcasm my way. It's very very cool.

Pummy drives us to Khaniyara every day and we're all starting to adore him. He is always happy and smiling. He works for CCS as well as running a cd/music store in town. He talks to us quite a lot and whenever we like a song he will tell us the artist and history of the band. Sometimes he misunderstands what we're saying. But sometimes I can't understand him either. So it's all good.

Kotwali marketplace is quickly moving down in my list of public places. It is just so dirty and hectic and repetitive on every side street. It's kind of depressing and I'm only going to go in town when I have a specific errand to run. Otherwise, it's off in any other direction (especially north) to shop in more exciting regions of the area.

Jiyo

Today was probably the best day thus far. It started, however, in a horrible mood and a half-assed yoga session.

When we got to the women's empowerment group, we split up into groups and I took Aarti and Rani, who are both 18 years old and know very little English. We sat in a small room together for two hours and covered old lesson plans and books that had been resources at the home-base. They knew much less than I'd initially thought, but Aarti in particular is very quick and blew me away with how much she understood in such a short amount of time.

We covered a few lessons of vocabulary and then I went over simple pronoun/verb agreement. With a language barrier so strong and women so old, the best way to communicate is through actions and photographs. I did much better than I thought I would and we ended up laughing quite a lot. Once we covered animals I told them a joke and spelled it out for them. "What do you call a fish with no eye?" I asked them as I spelled the word out on the white board and circled the 'i' in fish. "Fshhhh." It probably took four or five minutes until they grasped the hook. Their faces lit up and they chuckled. But once I said, "Okay. Bad Joke. Not Funny," and erased the board, the real laughter came. And that's a-okay with me.

We played hangman for the last 15 minutes with body parts in English and had some good laughs with that. Rani guessed my word without losing a single letter. I blame it on the intuitive nature of the people in the Himalayas. It was a strong word and deserved at least a little struggle by its victims. Aarti sneezed and I said, "God bless you." She smiled and I asked, "in Hindi?" "Jiyo," she says. "Well, Jiyo," I say. "Dhanyavad."

Later in Mcleodganj, Danielle sneezed at the outside market and I said, "Bless you...No. Jiyo!" The Tibetan vendor looked at me with a wide smile and the most precious face in the Himachal Pradesh region.

But back to work placement, all of my apprehensions have vanished in the blink of an eye. I realize that these girls have so much to learn and they are very quick to learn. They are beautiful, fun, and confident, and I truly light up in their presence. We all have a lot to learn from each other. Although I'm the one assisting in acquiring a language, I somehow feel like I am constantly learning more than they'll even know.

A great group of 14 of us went to Mcleodganj this afternoon and stayed till about 9 p.m. Everyone split up and met later in the evening at a rooftop Tibetan restaurant for a sunset dinner. The market square is somewhat small, so we all kept bumping into each other and it ended up being a wonderfully comical 6 hours. Mcleodganj is the strong Tibetan community about 15 minutes north of the home-base where the Dalai Lama lives and where his temple is located. In my opinion, it kicks Dharamsala's marketplace in the buttocks with a steel boot. There is such a variety of people with tons of travelers, Hasidic Jews, monks, and fantastic shopping.

The Dalai Lama's temple is magnificent. It is simple, as to be expected by the most magnificent monks in the world. Its simplicity is overwhelming because of the power and the peace in the people and prayer that you feel when you're there. The mountains have been so peaceful, the weather perfect, and the people (for the most part) are very sweet. Although I really like our market, Mcleodganj has a fun, intimate, and very welcoming atmosphere. I know for a fact that all of my friends would treasure this place. Come, I want to share it with you all.

Our days have been filled with giggles, indulgences of all senses, and many eye-opening realities if you allow yourself to see them.

India has the best and the worst. Today, I definitely felt the best.

Contradictions

June 16, 2010

Today was my first day in Khaniyara at the Women's Empowerment group. I am with two other interns, Julia and Brittany, and we are teaching women from ages 17-33 conversational English and planning activities centered on environmental awareness, health, computer skills, etc. It is a lot of work. I feel unprepared, unqualified, and apprehensive when I'm there.

I've already learned so much, however, from the two hours we spent just getting to know the women. We all shared pictures and things about ourselves. They then told us why they had joined the group and the way their village worked. Women in Khaniyara seldom finish their education and seldom find jobs to support themselves. The average age to get married is at 18 years old, and once married, a woman is not to leave their home after 5 p.m. and are given guidelines to living that they do not feel are just. A woman may have three daughters, but until a boy is born, a husband deems the family growth unsuccessful. The women also told us that a son's wedding is much more rejoiced than a daughter's, and a girl that even so much as talks to a boy on the street is frowned upon for being inappropriate.

Mariam is working at a private hospital and told a story today about a man who came in asking to get his wife's tubes untied because he had one daughter and a disabled son. The mother had already had two very dangerous c-sections and ran many risks in the procedure. He was solely focused on producing a healthy son.

There are some other things I've been greatly disturbed by in the healthcare system here. They had to implement a new law that once you've had your ultrasound and found out the sex of your child, you are not allowed to have an abortion. Women here would often abort their child if it was a girl because they knew they'd have to keep having children until a boy was conceived. Mariam told me a few more stories from today and I'm not going to go into detail with any of them, just that India is so contradictory in just about all of its politics. All birth control is hush hush, yet 3 of the 5 women that Mariam saw today came in for abortions.

After getting to know the women, these facts really started to affect me. This group of women is special. They are all beautiful, confident, and intimidating in the way they carry themselves. Even the ones that are younger than me seem to have themselves put together so tightly that I feel undeserving to teach THEM something and then go home wondering if they'll ever have half the opportunities that I've been given.

India, with the world's longest serving female prime minister in history, also has a history of female oppression that I have seen first-hand in my short time here. It is one of the richest countries, yet one of the poorest. Dharamsala is known for its spiritual atmosphere, yet it struggles with high rates of alcoholism and drug abuse. We have a 9:30 curfew for the mere fact that past 9 p.m., most of the cab drivers are intoxicated.

Therefore, all 21 volunteers hang out at the home-base in the evenings. Monsoon season has begun, and after an amazing dinner of daal (which I could eat every day for the rest of my life) and amazing shish-kabob chicken and veggies, we hung out under the stars in the very cold after-rain atmosphere. The smell of rain has never been so strong before. It's simply wonderful.

Sitting on the balcony last night drinking tea with Mariam, we heard drums and singing coming from a tent up the road that we'd passed going to the market today. There was a wedding ceremony tonight and we sat there, wondering if the bride was happy, miserable, or frightened. Back home, you'd never ask yourself these questions. Of course a bride is having a night full of love and excitement for what's to come. It's not always that way here. Not at all.

Life can be simple here. Quiet and serene. But the market place is hectic, with all cars constantly honking and the streets, dirty and crowded, smelling of street vendor food, trash, herbs, and wild animals alike.

I have learned one important thing in the past six days. You cannot compare India to America. India is so old with a history reaching back to a caste system and oppression by the British until 1947...which in reality was just yesterday. America is young and has no culture or a people aging back to the early 16th century like India. We're a melting pot or I guess they say a salad bowl now. India, with many influences from outside cultures and a culmination of Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism, Sikhism and now a population of Jews, Christians and Muslims, is far from a melting pot-but rather a country of coexistence.

A day to remember forever (in both ways horrifying and wonderful)1

June 15, 2010

Today was our first day in Dharamsala after what was the most horrifying, helpless night of my life (and I’ve been in my fair share of life-threatening situations).

I don’t want to go too far into detail because I firmly believe that CCS is a safe, reliable program. However, things were out of control and a few big mistakes were made (not necessarily by CCS Dharamsala staff) to put all of our lives in danger.

Our scheduled flight from Delhi to Dharamsala on Monday (yesterday) was cancelled, so the airport arranged for taxis to take us on the 10 hour drive to our home-base in the Himalayas. These are city drivers, and city driving in India (as I’d mentioned before) is lawless, chaotic, and very scary. If you do not know how to drive the topsy tervy roads up to the mountains you are seriously putting lives in danger. But that’s not even where my story begins.

I’ll first start by saying that although the first 4 hours of the drive were nerve-wracking, we had fun. In a car with 3 other girls, we rode with a Sikh driver that knew NO English whatsoever. We were disbanded from the other cars and it was a tad scary..but definitely doable. We drove on what is considered a highway here, but is something entirely different than any highway you’ve seen.

We drove through rice fields, poor villages with tent camps, women sleeping on the side of the road, mobs of monkeys, and families of 4 on small bikes (with many women holding infants). Just so many things that to us, seem outlandish.

All of the Indian men would stare at us and make a commotion over our white skin. Julia’s long blonde hair was like a pot of gold none had ever seen before.

I really did not enjoy this and it seemed to run parallel to the treatment we got in Delhi. I felt like I was gawked at rather than approached.

Driving through these villages allowed me to see an India that many travelers do not see. Cars, bikes, rickshaws, and the homeless all on the same road. All day. There is such diversity to India that it is almost incomprehensible. Opportunities are given to students to study at university (and produce some of the best lawyers and doctors in the world) but then…a quarter of a mile down the road lives a tent community on a rocky, unsanitary hill. THIS India is hard to describe. It is not the bustling city of New Delhi and it is certainly not the enchanting Dharamsala. It is simply eye opening.

I’m trying to avoid the story of what’s to come next, but chronologically, the time has come. We were supposed to drive in a caravan, but our one CCS employee that came with us was not an organizer, not suitable for a leadership role, and did not do anything to help or prevent the situations to come.

Our car got lost. Our driver’s phone didn’t work and we had to stop at a phone store off the highway. (We still can’t speak to our Sikh driver. The language barrier is a brick wall) We finally met up with the 3 other cars at a restaurant off the road (right after driving full speed down a 1-way highway and having to turn around)…

We finally started going the right direction but got disbanded again. This is the point where the 10-hour trip turned into 16 hours with a man who spoke NO English and could not stay with the other cars…AND stopped inches from the car in front of him at full speed and pulled multiple face-offs with cars driving in opposite directions.

This is where Julia, Mariam and I ended all laughter, dancing, and enjoyable conversing in the car, and would begin six hours of wondering when we would die. Did I mention before that we had no seat belts?

I’m going to spare you the details, but right after I fell asleep for the first time after being in this car for 10 hours, I wake up to shattered glass all over me and everyone freaking out. The passenger-side rearview mirror is in Hannah’s lap and we are pulled over off the side of this crazy road with a mob of Indians flocking towards us to see if we are okay. Thank God for shatterproof glass, for we were all alright minus a few scratches and sores. We were horrified, however, and in the middle of nowhere. A CCS car not too far ahead had stopped to see where we’d gone and turned around to find us. Susan, our 65 year-old saintly mother figure helped calm our nerves and get us back on the road.

Our driver began driving even more recklessly and my heart was constantly racing. The roads leading to Dharamsala before you get to the mountain climb are in horrible condition AND in the middle of nowhere. And, mind you, it is at least midnight by now and the caravan is still with a lack of structure.

To sum it all up, we got into a fender bender about 20 minutes later in a scary land of trees and run-down buildings. Our driver has proven his inability to drive us safely from point A to point B. Everyone is handling the situation differently. One of us is screaming at the scary driver and he is yelling in Hindu back, and everyone is simply panicking. We abandon his car and cram into a different car for the very VERY scary mountain climb.

Many minor things go wrong from here. Everyone is scared, tired, angry, and unsure what to do. This includes all of our drivers, whose language barrier has never been so tall and thick before in my life.

4:30 a.m. we arrive in Dharamsala after our saintly CCS employees drove 2 and ½ hours to pick us up for the mountain climb and ensure our safe arrival. If it wasn’t for them, I am fully certain and have a strong intuitive feeling that I wouldn’t be here today.

The sun was peeking through the snowcapped mountains as we arrived to our home-base. It is a quant but pristine gated land with beautiful buildings of stone, wood, and marble. I am in the nicest room in the nicest of the three houses with two beautiful balconies outlooking the snowcapped mountains. We have wifi, a television, and luxuries you wouldn’t expect as you look out the window into the Himalayas and wonder if there is anything more glorious.

We are about 5-10 minutes from the exciting, busy part of the city where all the great fabric, food, and local stores are located. Here, the only noises you’ll hear are the children in our community playing cricket on a hill behind the house, the old man next-door reciting prayers, or the many birds’ songs nearby.

Dharamsala, a city of Hindus, Buddhists (Tibetan monks), Muslims, Jews, and Sikhs, is a place only fully describable by experience.

Maxine-In my one full day, I feel like it has already surpassed any expectations. I thought you sold it well, but I have a feeling I’ll be selling it even harder. J

The food here…is great. Our chef is wonderful and I am signed up for not only cooking lessons with him but dance and Hindi lessons as well. Life is good. Especially since the guitar survived two car crashes.

Tomorrow is the first day of observation in my Women’s Empowerment Group, where I will be with two great girls in the program helping teach conversational English. Leonard Schulze-If you’re reading this, I promise, when real interaction with the local community actually begins, I will begin the actual blogging process of observing, analyzing, comparing, and drawing conclusions!!

Namaste.

skyping with Andrew Bass at 6:30 a.m. from my balcony. precious.

Monday June 14^th 5:43 a.m. (Sunday evening, 7:13 p.m. for my people back home)

The latter half of the day was torturous to say the least. With speakers about cultural immersion and Indian national history and things to do/things not to do FOLLOWED BY the worst Indian meal I've ever had, a dust storm, AND no opportunity to go shopping or exploring in New Delhi, our main goal has just been to SLEEP.

Due to orientation’s strict demands, I didn’t really get to walk around and see much of the city besides driving (or plowing) through it. The streets are a sight in themselves. Chaotic and dangerous, they are packed with children, animals, trucks, rickshaws, bicycles, and small cars. I really wish I could have taken some photos. It truly is a sight to see.

I woke up this morning at 5 a.m. My sleeping habits are off and I’ve been waking up extremely early for some unfortunate reason. Flying to Dharamsala in a few hours. And thus begins the actual, attempted intellectual blogging.

Until then,

Namaste.

Ryan Adams-Trains

Sunday June 13^, 6:45 a.m. (Saturday evening, 8:05 p.m. for my people back home)

My flights were great. From Detroit to Amsterdam, I sat next to Trey: a 30 some-ad, 300 lb male who was flying to Sweden to visit his graphic design/rock band boyfriend, Johan. He was a big teddy bear and made me feel safe. He told me his life story and even showed me his fanny pack full of drugs. He may or may not have even offered me ¼ of his xanex for anxiety resolutions. He told me about his prior drug problems, heroine addiction, weight loss pills, and newfound strength. With little to contribute to the conversation, we switched to movies and music, which we had too many oddities in common, such as Jens Lekman (thanks to a certain someone educating me on Swedish awesomeness. ;)) Later in the flight, when he brought Nico up and I told him I’d only heard her cover of “These Days” from a Wes Anderson Soundtrack, he broke into song. And might I add, he hit Nico’s peculiarly odd and simultaneously angelic voice right on key.

Listen to Nico rock out Here.

From Amsterdam to Delhi, I sat next to a young man born and raised in New Delhi who was traveling back from work. He was sweet and we got along. He thought I was from Amsterdam, which I thought was really cool..but was somewhat ashamed when I had to break the news that I was actually from America.

From there on, the story is a bit hard to throw into words. Gathering a small group of us into a van, we left the airport, passing by what must have been 50-60 men sleeping on the pavement outside the airport. Nobody follows lane laws on the highways here, and cars are flying everywhere-in between lanes, within inches of each other, etc, etc. Wild dogs roam in packs and run through streets as cars go swerving by. Young boys walk gaily through large intersections at 1 am. It feels like a different planet over here. I kind of like it.

Although it has taken one 2 hour flight and two 8 hour flights to get here, I almost feel like I’ve arrived in a wink of an eye. Suddenly I’m in a van in New Delhi at 1 a.m. with what I can already tell are some fun new friends.

Staying in what feels like a fairly luxurious flat for New Delhi, 6 of us are shacking up for two nights before the flight to Dharamsala. Our brains and bodies were way off, and a few of us stayed up till 5:30 talking, laughing, and wondering what’s to come next.

I then put on my handy dandy book light and finished one book and started a next. I never actually went to bed, as right as I was getting sleepy, the sun peeked through the curtains and the urge to see the courtyard in the 5 a.m. India sun trumped a silly REM cycle.

"Good Morning, India."

3 days

Three days until I get on a plane and make the seemingly endless journey to India. Thoughts? Unprepared. Nervous. Excited. But mostly, there's an overarching anxiety to simply be there and get settled in.

Watched The Darjeeling Limited last night which was fantastic because 1. a certain someone has got me hooked on Wes Anderson films and 2. India looks great on film. :)

The biggest question before I leave on Friday is: Do I bring a friend's cheap old guitar to India..or do I bank on buying one there?