Chilling with the Lepchas

Yesterday, through a friend of a friend of a friend of my advisor, I made arrangements to go visit a local village to fill my quota for rural interviews- I was a little heavy on the urban-progressive perspective- where love-marriage and high-heels are the norm. The man I went with is part of the the indigenous Lepcha community- the equivalent of the Native Americans in the US (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lepcha_people.) He said he had connections with a few fellow Lepcha men in a local village who were willing to show me around their village and help my interview some of the women. 

The translator picked me up in his car (first time riding in a car in 3 months!) and we drove over the mountain ridge that blocked the view of Mount Kangchenjunga from Gangtok (you could only see the tip of it from the city- the rest was hidden by the face of the closest mountain.) Driving over the mountain range, I was able to catch a glimpse of more of Kangchenjunga -the 3rd highest in the world!. At 8586 meters tall, it’s only 262 meters shorter than Mt. Everest (at 8,848 meters.) I must have been acting really in awe because he offered to pull the car over so I could take a few photos (or take a few “snaps” as they say it here.) 

A half hour later, winding along the sides of mountain covered in huge pre-historic looking ferns, we stopped at a colorfully-pained home on the side of the road. Out in front was a small organic vegetable stand selling interesting-looking vegetables, potatoes, garlic, and “poppers”-this ridiculously hot pepper that just happens to sneak its way into most dishes here- and you only realize it until you’ve swallowed it- then all hell breaks loose. 

We were greeted by two men, whom my translator had met through organizing a Lepcha Fashion Show in Gangtok a few weeks ago. It was a public fashion show that showcased traditional Lepcha clothing, dances, and music as a way to spread awareness about the Lepcha community and it’s culture to the public. the Lepcha are one of the most “backwards” and marginalized communities in Sikkim. There’s only around 30,000 of them left in the world- and their culture is disintegrating as a result of inter-caste marriages and migrations into the cities. 

Anywho, these two men were the founders of an NGO that is working to preserve their Lepcha culture. They’ve started a museum to preserve Lepcha artifacts- and are in the process of getting a grant from the government to make the museum more public-friendly....because from what I saw, it’s currently a rented room in an isolated house with 3 small safes filled with artifacts (ranging from bamboo combs, rhinoceros hide-shields, stringed instruments that looked like a combination of a violin and tennis racket. These men have other initiatives within the village to promote a more environmentally sustainable community like setting up public dustbins throughout the village so people don’t have to throw their trash on the ground. They’ve also managed to ban the selling and consumption of TOBACCO in the village and have made the consumption of alcohol illegal during funerals. They really are admirable people and I really look forward to seeing what becomes of their NGO in the future. 

After the museum tour, they gave me a tour of the village- a small place with only 24 households- and brought me into people’s homes so I could see how the Lepcha constructed their houses. Traditional Lepcha homes don’t have a SINGLE nail in them. It’s a combination of woven bamboo, clay molding, and entire tree trunks locked into one another. They’ve been withstanding for over 500 years- and all remained intact after a devastating 6.9 magnitude earthquake that struck Sikkim in September 2011. Other contemporary village houses crumbled- but the Lepcha houses stood strong. 

After a few informative interviews with some housewives.... (I could go into this more, but I fear I’m turning into one of those people who is SUPER interested in a topic that other people aren’t especially fascinated with- yet won’t stop talking about it. I’ve found myself saying things like “Welllll...in rural Rajasthani villages, women blah blah blah independence....blergh patriarchy....”) so, I’ll spare the details and tell you about more important things....like...duck eggs! Which is what I was served for lunch- straight from the ducks hanging around outside the house- along with “pickle”- which I’ve realized is just an overarching term for a vinegary-vegetable soaked in POPPERS- (aka:super spicy.) For some reason, I keep disregarding my previous spicy-pickle experiences and always try them- expecting something different and perhaps not so spicy, but...nope. My hopes continue to fail me and I continue to look like the foreign girl with the delicate palate that can’t handle the local’s food. 

Actually, I take that previous statement back- I’ve been very opening to eating whatever is served to me without questioning what it’s made of. Like when the men asked me if I wanted to try “millet beer”- the local brew of the Lepcha. I agreed, and a few minutes later they brought me out this monster...(see photo below.)

Millet beer is very simple- and very alcoholic. It’s served in a wooden-cup (....more like a bucket) and filled with whole millet grain that’s been soaked in hot water for a few hours. You’re given a thermos of hot water to refill the cup when you’ve sucked up all of the millet-liquid (which tastes like tangy sangria....dangerous...) out of a long bamboo straw. I was told to make an offering to my ancestors before I took my first sip by dropping a little of the liquid on the floor and to say a prayer for my family. I asked them if I was supposed to say it out-loud or to myself and they said I could say it in my head. I took the bamboo straw out and let some of the beer fall on the floor (and onto my converse sneakers) and said something like a birthday wish to myself....it felt like I was “pouring some for my homies.” 

I took my first sip...and it was surprisingly delicious. The man sitting net to me- who had spent the last 15 minutes explaining the history of Buddha to me- told me that I was supposed to take long 15-second draws from the straw, rather that little sips. I looked at him, and said, “That sounds like peer-pressure to me.” He and the other men laughed- and so did I. I felt strangely comfortable with them. I think it was because they understood my humor better than anyone I’ve met so far.

We spent another hour sitting and talking and I showed them some photos of my family and they showed me some photos of their fashion show. Twas a successful day, methinks. 

My new friends showing me the inside of their family's organic greenhouse. 

View of Kangchenjunga from Rukdong Village.

Mo' Vizualz

A prayer garden pathway in Sikkim. You can kind of get a glimpse of how steep the land is here. 

View from a teacher's house in a village across the valley facing Gangtok city. 

One of the many "mitai" (sweet) shops. Most of the sweets are made of a ratio of 80% sugar and 20% butter. A lot of the SIT students don't like Indian sweets, but I've grown to really love them. Most of the sweets are prepared with "rose water" which tastes exactly like what a little elderly woman smells like.  For some reason, I love it! (It doesn't surprise me though- my sense of smell is a little tweaked.) For example-  While driving in a taxi with Danielle and Shelly, I made a remark about how I've grown to enjoy the burning-fire smell that permeates the air everywhere- be it in a city or in a village. Shelly said, "I think that's the smell of burning garbage." And she's totally right. People light little piles of garbage on fire along the sides of roads, even in Sikkim. I think it's because there isn't a very successful garbage disposal system here. 

Nutritional breakfast of digestive biscuits and peanut butter after my weekly bucket shower. Peanut butter is SO expensive here in comparison to other consumable items- it cost 400 rupees ($8!) BUT i refuse to compromise my affinity for chunky-peanut butter for the sake of a few rupees. 

View from the top of the Gangtok Gondola (Or "rope-way.") It's a 15 minute ride that scans the easte side of Gangtok City. It stops halfway through and just hangs and eerily rocks back and forth to give everyone a better view of the city. 

My impromptu presentation on the American Education System to a group of Master's Students

I just got back from one of my most successful- and strangest- interviews yet. I contacted an administrator at the Harakama College of Education and asked if there were any female professors I could speak with for my project. She said I could come in today (Tuesday) at 10:00am. I didn't ask many questions and did not know if it would turn out to be helpful or not. When I walked into main office, the administrator whisked me away into an room down the hall and brought in 6 lively female professors. They were all really interesting people with many different perspectives. A few were married, one was engaged, and one was single. Of the married ones, two had "love-marriages." They all had their Master's degrees in subjects ranging from Indian History to Commerce. They came from different parts of Sikkim were all interested in what I had to say too, which felt good. I asked them each question one-by-one and each of them gave some really insightful answers. When I asked one of the women whether she thought it was necessary to get married, she said she doesn't feel pressured by society to marry because she can financially support herself. However, she said that on a personal level, she wants a companion to share life with. This was the EXACT answer I've been looking for all along!

A half hour later, the principal (man) walked in and asked to take a photo of all of us. I hope it doesn't end up on the wall somewhere with a caption like "American student visits college!" I've taken so many photos during my time here- I can't even imagine where they've ended up.

The principal then asked me if I wanted to interact with some students- and I agreed. I thought, "Great..a new perspective!" He lead me downstairs to another room...that just happened to be filled with 150+ students sitting at their desks in uniforms. We walked in and they ALL stood up. The principal then turned to me and pointed to a chair on stage and said, "Sit." I just stood there for a second- wondering if I had somehow said something that made him think that I agreed to this, but I definitely did not imply ANYthing of the sort. I realized I couldn't back out now, so I just sucked it up and walked on stage and sat in front of the students. It turns out that this "interaction" was actually a Q&A between me and a group of 150 Master's degree students on the American Education System.

I hope I handled it pretty well? I made them laugh a few times- which was weird... They asked me questions about private vs. government funded school systems and how the US system of higher education is different from India's (of which I know NOTHING about.) And somehow, I think I was able to pull out a few statistics about private vs public school tuitions and retention rates. NO idea where that came from....phew.

This is another blog post

Namaste from "Cafe Coffee Day"- the equivalent to the "Dunkin' Donuts" in America! I'm currently sitting at a table with Danielle and Shelly (another SIT student in Sikkim) doing work on our laptops and switching seats every half hour to recharge our computers via one outlet (We only go to cafes here with available outlets.) 3 out of the 18 SIT students this semester are stationed in Sikkim- mostly because our academic director, Taraji gew up here and is Sikkim's BIGGEST fan. During our lectures, she would always use some example from her life in Sikkim and explain how that example is ideal and perfect and awesome because Sikkim is ideal and perfect and awesome. 

Needless to say, I had pretty high expectations coming here- which I usually try to avoid doing with the fear of being disappointed if something isn't what I was expecting it to be. BUT...Sikkim has exceeded my already high expectations. The air feels so clean (unlike the auto rickshaw congested fumes in Jaipur.) There are NO beggars. There are PUBLIC garbage cans and drinking water facilities (although I still avoid drinking the tap water even here.) English-speaking music is constantly blaring from cells phones and passing taxis (usually Taylor Swift or Enrique Iglesias...although in one taxi, the driver started playing SNOOP DOG. It felt so surreal to listen to Snoop Dog and Dr. Dre rapping about hard gang-life in Compton, California while I was sitting in the back of a jam-packed next to a Monk driving through jungle in the Himalayas.)  Speaking of taxis (aka jeeps)- they charge everyone a single-fixed rate determined by the government! (Unlike in Jaipur where the auto-rickshaws tun their meters off and charge you up the wazoo.)

Here's some random thoughts/experiences I've had happen to me.....in LIST form.  It would require too much effort to write out all of the preceding events and explain how I happened to get myself into these situations. More so than not, there are no explanations for how I get myself into these things.

1.) Fun Conversations: While driving in a Jeep making small talk to a man about things like how I liked Sikkim and about the election in the USA,  he asked me..."Who would you vote for, Obama or Sikkim?" He was completely serious. It was a leading question though...so to avoid offending anyone, I answered Sikkim. I like it's position on American foreign policy. Plus, Sikkim comes from a good family. I hear he/she once smoked pot though in college, so I don't know if Sikkim would be a positive representative of America. 

2.) MEAT IS EVERYWHERE! Ahhh! coming from the strictly Veg land of Rajasthan, it was a little unnerving to see chickens and ducks hanging in windows (or outside) of small shops. 

3.) Steps Steps Steps. I swear, I'm going to have calves of steel by the time I get back to the states. There are no flat roads here. Buildings are crammed tightly together and are all connected via flights and flights of concrete (and usually uneven) stairs. I get frequently confused about which stairs are public and which are private and once walked into someone's front "courtyard" area as a woman was washing her underwear on the concrete. Fun times. 

4.) My Favorite Human EVER. My host-dad from the Lingee-Payong village called me this morning. Seeing his number pop up on my phone- I figured he was calling to tell me I left something at his home. But, nope- turns out he just wanted to chat. He asked me how I was and if I had breakfast and what I was going to do today. I really love this man. The night before I left the village, he said that I reminded him of his daughter and that in his mind, I was his other daughter. On top of that sweetness, he spent at least an hour writing out useful Nepali phrases for me in my notebook sounding out the Nepali with English letters like "Kay tapain ek glass tato pani dinu saknu hunchha?"  which means "Do you provide me a glass of hot water?" and "Gangtok dekhi paitalis km tada chha" which means "Gangtok is 45 km from here." The CUTEST. On the phone, he said his wife wanted to talk with me in Hindi- OH NO! I had made the mistake of telling her when I first met her that I understood and spoke a little bit of Hindi. My go-to phrase is "tora tora Hindi" (aka little little Hindi) accompanied with the "ehhhh" hand motion. The wife then started talking at me in gregorious Hindi- it was pretty bad. I think the dad had me on speakerphone because I could hear him under her translating her Hindi into English for me. They told me to come back soon- I really want to. I couldn't have asked for a better family to stay with. 

Useful Nepali phrases from my host-dad

5.) Apparently I look like Princess Diana. I've been told this by at least 7 people throughout my time here in India. Although, I'm not so sure I buy it. I think it's just because I'm a Caucasian girl and have short hair.

Mo' Later! It's past my bedtime (aka 8:00pm.) Not sure if it's all the stairs or the diet changes ot the altitude, but I get tired so easily here! 

Diwali in a Sikkimese Village

Just as I did in Rajasthan, I needed to spend time in a rural village in Sikkim to talk with the women and their families. My advisor set me up to go to South Sikkim to the village of Lingee-Payong- a 4 hour Jeep drive from Gangtok. This ride would have given anyone motion sickness. I felt like I was going to pass out at one point from the many turns, bumps, and elevation changes.

 I paid for one seat in a shared Jeep- and at first I was the only one in the vehicle- which was quite lovely- but that didn’t last very long. The driver would stop every half hour to either pick a few people up, drop some off, grab a bag from a woman standing on the side of a road, and my favorite- pick up a couple carton of eggs- which the driver tied down on top of the front of the car with RIBBON and proceeded to drive the next 2 hours without breaking them. I don’t think there could be anything more fragile to put on the top of a moving vehicle. 

Along the ride, I made some friends with a young couple that was sitting behind me. The woman was a beauty parlor owner and the husband was a filmmaker. Had I not spoken with them, I would have assumed they were teenage siblings. They asked me questions about America- I’ve come up with my “go-to” set of answers to such questions. Example: What do people eat in America? Answer- Sandwiches. It took me a while to come up with a sufficient answer to this question. I used to say hot dogs, but I didn’t want everyone to think that all Americans ate processed meat product all the time. Plus ,sandwiches can include vegetarians! This is another stereotype I keep hearing about Americans. Many people assume Americans eat beef 24-7 (which does have some truth to it- we are the largest consumers of beef in the world.) But when I tell them I’m vegetarian, they usually don’t believe me. 

The beauty shop woman and I had some good conversation about her family and my family. She asked me what I missed about home and I said I missed the little convenient things like being able to change my nail polish when I want to. She then pulled out nail polish remover pads and a bright orange bottle of nail polish and told me to go at it. After 3 months of barely showering and wearing the same shirt for 4 days on end, it was SO WONDERFUL to paint my nails again and do something that felt a little bit “extravagant.” 

5 hours later in the pitch dark, the jeep pulled over and the driver told me this was my stop. All I knew at this point was that there was some family somewhere nearby that just found out the day before that an American girl would be coming to stay with them. I got out and a man wearing an argyle sweater and a traditional Nepali hat greeted me in English, took my giant-overpacked bag, and led me down a VERY steep path of stone stairs by way of a flashlight (aka “torch”- what they call it here.) I saw lights below me (literally BELOW me) and when we reached flat ground, a 60+ year old looking man with a gentle face and a jockey hat greeted me. His name was S. K. and he led me through the house, past a woman sitting on a mat stringing marigolds on a rope,  ast two little children blowing up balloons to a room with 2 beds, a couch, and a whole lot of framed awards hanging on the walls. It reminded me of that scene from the movie, Garden State where Zach Braff’s character is sitting in the doctor’s office. (My apologies if you don’t get that reference!)

View from my homestay home in Lingee-Payong, Sikkim. SO BEAUTIFUL. There are marigold flowers everywhere.

It felt like a combination of the “first-day-of-school” and a job interview. S.K. and I made small talk as a woman brought me tea and these fried dough-looking items. I found out later that they’re called “sael roti” and are a popular food made during Diwali. *SIDE NOTE* I just happened to show up on the first official day of Diwali! I couldn’t have been in a better place to see how it’s all really celebrated. More deets to come later on.* Anywho, S.K. told me he was an arts teacher in the local government middle school. He said he specializes in making upcycled handicrafts from waste paper and seeds/fruit pits. He also paints murals for schools to educate the students about environmental problems (deforestation and pollution) and natural processes (like the water cycle and plant life cycles.) He brought out a photo album which I thought was going to be photos of his family, but was actually a huge album filled with letters of recognition and awards given to S.K. for his teaching. He won the “National Teacher’s Award” in 2011 and was honored in Delhi by the president of India. So in short- this guy’s legit. I told him that I did art too and showed him some of my pieces on my laptop- and we had a bonding moment! 

Later on, I sat down with the family- (which consists of the grandfather, his wife (the grandmother,) their son and his wife (the mother-in-law,) and their two children- an 8 year-old girl naked Pritika and a 10 year-old boy named Prakesh- in the “fire room” (my coined term.) This room consists of a small clay fire pit in the middle of the floor with straw mats surrounding it. They said they spend a lot of time here in the winter- as it gets even colder than it is right now (which is hard to believe.) They wanted to see pictures of my family so I brought out my bag of photos I’ve been carrying around with me. They were really interested in learning about what my mother and father did, how close my family was, and what New York CIty is like (because everyone assumes I'm from the city when I say I live in New York State.) We then ate a traditional Nepali dinner consisting of a HUGE plate of rice, a small dollop of “firecracker” chutney (made of pickled hot....very hot chilies,) some dal (a soupy lentil dish,) pumpkin, and some sael roti- all of this was made by the mother-in-law from scratch...they even grew and harvested their own rice.

They told me that later in the night there would be a traditional dance called “Dhosi” in their front courtyard of their house. Boys and girls from around the village go from house to house preforming this dhosi dance- which consists of walking around a decorated tree of some sort as members of the group take turns telling the story of Ram, a figurehead in  the Hindu tradition. The first group arrived (5 preteen boys and 2 teenage girls.) They were somehow related to my host family- although, I'm starting to think that everyone in this village is related somehow- even the taxi driver that brought me here had the same last name as my host family. Anywho, they started clapping and moving around the circle- as the one person would tell the story (in Nepali,) the rest of the group would repeat “Bhai ya dhosi” after every verse. I joined in with the teenage girls- who I had been talking to on the sidelines for a while. Apparently the translator I had been set up with to work with later in the week was their older brother.

Village men doing the Dhosi dance in traditional Nepali clothing

The family then invited me to do their Diwali “puja” (prayer) with them. I felt a little awkward joining them- as I had just shown up at their house for the first time a few hours ago- and now I was going to join them in the most important puja in the Hindu calender. Buy they insisted- and I went into a back room to a shrine that was covered in family photos, marigolds, rupee notes, burning incense sticks, and various metal bowls filled with offerings. (I cannot possibly begin to interpret what everything meant. I’ll try to give you the most objective description of what was going on- because anything that I come up with as an explanation will be minimized to the point that it’ll be insulting.) The little girl held a bell and rang it back and forth. The boy had a small drum and played it in synch with the bell.  The father had a conch shell and he’d blow it every few minutes all while the family repeated a series of chants in unison. The grandmother crushed up marigold flowers and threw them over the shrine. The mother then gave me “tika” on my forehead- a combination of rice and saffron colored paste and then put some more in my hands and told me to keep my hands in a praying position. I just stood there trying not to do anything that would ruin the moment. It all was so beautiful and intricate and I felt so fortunate to experience it with them. I’ve gotten used to experiencing things that I literally do not understand one bit of- and over time I’ve become more and more comfortable with feeling out of place- it’s exciting and challenging and I really kind of enjoy it.

The next morning, I woke up at 5:00am to bustling noises and yelling outside of my room. I got up a little while later and  was greeted by a 20-something year-old woman and man sitting with the rest of the famly drinking tea. Turns out it was the grandparent’s daughter- who had some from Gangtok with her husband for the second day of Diwali- the “Bhai Tika”- literally “the Brother Blessing.” This day is devoted solely for brothers- sisters travel to their brother’s houses to give them blessings (in the form of muti-colored tika, marigold garlands, and a few other rituals like putting oil in their hair combing their hair) as well as gifts (usually an article of clothing and sweets.) The main purpose of bhai tika is to ensure that the brothers have a prosperous life.

 The whole family sat in the fire-room amongst candles and flowers and the daughter went around in a circle and put paste on each of the member’s foreheads. The process lasted for at least a half hour. She put at least 6 different colors of tika on them. She put oil on her brother’s head and rubbed it in and combed it. She put a flower garland over his head and gave him a gift. Everyone then clapped- I'm assuming this meant the ceremony was completed? This whole time, I had been standing outside of the room acting as the group's photographer. I wasn’t allowed into the room (which I was relieved about) so I stood outside just watching and taking photos for them with the grandmother’s camera. 

Host brother wearing his traditional Nepali clothing and tika for Diwali 

Two other groups of family members came to the house throughout the day and preformed the same series of rituals. One group was the grandmother’s brother and his family (the grandmother did the tika) and the other group was the mother-in-law’s brother and his family (the mother-in-law did the tika for them.) *SIDE NOTE*- Remember how I said Danielle from SIT and UVM was in Gangtok with me earlier in the week? She just happened to be placed in this same village- Lingee Payong. Her home-stay was a 5 minute walk from my house- and her family was not celebrating Diwali this year because they had a death in the family- and it is custom to not celebrate any holiday for a year after the family member passes away. So...she came over to my house! The family then told us to come into the fire room- and told us that we could give tike to their son, 10-year old Prakesh. I awkwardly dipped my fingers in the tika paste and put it on his already covered forehead. Danielle did the same and we each chose different colors of dye to put on him. The grandmother handed me a marigold garland and I put it over him. Then!....Prakesh gave tika to us! They even gave us a gift- a towel....which I was actually desperately in need of. We all took photos afterwards. It was pretty much the best thing ever. 

Host father- Prakesh, host mother- Tara, host brother- Pragil, and host sister, Pragita

All the ladies- the girl on the right is Danielle, my fellow UVMer. 

A banana tree and some orange trees. They gave me a big bag of their oranges as I left! 

Another view of the AMAZING view. 

Host-grandfather (favorite human EVER) and host-grandmother. She didn't speak English and I didn't speak Nepali, so I couldn't get to know her that well. But from the interactions we did have, I can tell she's a sassy, wonderful lady.

Inside the "fire room" after the Bhai-Tika ceremony.

Gangtok, Here I Come!

Over 35 hours of non-stop traveling (on my own!) for over 1000 miles across India...and I've finally made it to Gangtok, Sikkim! Boy, what an adventure it's been to get here. Firstly, it's absolutely FREEZING here! When packing for India in August, I had NO idea I'd be going to the Himalayas...P.S- I'm 5,800 feet above sea level.

Right now, I'm wearing leggings, pajama pants, a flannel shirt and my teacher's coat to bed...and this still doesn't suffice. Manoj-ji offered his coat to me before I left and I took it, not really thinking I'd need it. If anything, I was planning on using it as a pillow, but wowza, I'm glad I have it. It's actually so cold here that...you know that feeling where your fingers are so freezing that you mistype? Little would you know from my flawless grammar (joke) that I'm actually backspacing every few words because I can't control my fingers. But...MUST WRITE ON! (Mostly because I fear I'll forget the interesting things by the time I wake up tomorrow.)

Timeline in brief:

Friday 11/10:
@ 5:00am- Was picked up by my interpreter from the SIT center for the train station in Jaipur. He helped me navigate the station which was actually a lot easier than I thought. I ended up leading him...heh. This train was called the "Double Decker Super Speed Fast Train"-I'll show you my ticket for proof.

@ 11:00am- Got off the train in Delhi and attempted to lug my luggage...lolz...up the several flights stairs that were bustling with people. A foreign woman must have thought I looked like I was struggling enough because she said to me "Just get a porter! It's only 100 rupees!" I looked up, already exhausted- and a man wearing a massive red turban and a red suit jacket grabbed by bag for me (without me agreeing to the offer...but I was actually very glad I let him because it was a long walk.) We reached the entrance to the station and was immediately bombarded by rickshaw drivers trying to take my bag to "claim" me as their passenger. (BTW, this was happening to everybody leaving the station.) I had to pull my bag away from them and decided on my own rickshaw driver. I've noticed that I tend to avoid rickshaw drivers with dirty shirts. They all wear baby-blue button ups, but some men look much more put together than others, so I usually go for the ones with the clean shirts. How indicative this is of how good of a driver they are, I fail to tell you- but it's just something I've picked up on.

@11:30am- Got dropped off at the New Delhi Railway Station where my next train- the Rajdhani Express would be taking me to New Jalpaiguri Railway Station in West Bengal. As I made my way, again the porters were trying to take my bag from me when one friendly-looking elderly man in the most hipster-looking sweater asked me where I was going. I said, "Sikkim" and he said, "Oh! Rajdhani Express....Platform 16 at 2:00!" I could not have spoken to a more helpful person. I was already a little nervous about navigating the station, but this man just popped out of nowhere and saved the day!

I had some time to kill, so I bought some chai and sat down on the platform read my Indian Cosmo and ate my digestive biscuits...mmm...but really...name aside, they're delicious!

@1:30pm: Loaded the train and found my bunk very easily- I was in the sleeper section which consists of three tiers of hospital-looking beds. They provide you with sheets and pillows, and as part of the Rajdhani Express deal, serve you snacks and meals every few hours. They even served a special tray just for tea- with many accessories. (I'll take a photo on my way back to show you.) It included a plastic mug, a put of hot water, a tea bag, sugar, milk creamer, a candy, and a package of biscuits. It was adorable! Since I was on the top tier of the bunks, I had to constantly pass my trash down to the people below me. The 4 people occupying the bunks around me were all Buddhist monks coming back from their monastery in Himanchel for the Diwali festival (It's like the Indian Christmas- with decorative lighting and LOTS of shopping) to their homes in Bhutan. They were all very friendly and would pass me newspapers and wake me up when food came around, but the friendliest one was a gregarious man with the most booming voice- he wore Crocs and a saffron-colored robe. He introduced himself to me (in English) as soon as we got onto the train and asked where I was going. I said" Gangtok, Sikkim" and he threw his arms out and said "That is where I'm going!" He then said he'd help me find a jeep when we got off in NJP- phew! Oh, yeah....this man's name- I kid you not- was Karma.

Karma would check up on me and offer me his food every once in a while. Not going to lie, I had this stereotype about monks in my head as being stoic and mute, but this guy totally reframed my view on that. Although- there were some things he'd say that I'd just chuckle to myself about because they were so stereotypical- like when he asked about the big storm that happened in America. I said that my family was in New York and that while they didn't get hit as badly as the rest of the East Coast, they did lose power for a few days. Karma shook his head and said, "Everything is impermanent."

Saturday 11/11:

I was woken up around 7:00am by a blurry version of Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA" playing off of somebody's cell phone in the bunk a few booths over. This had been happening the whole ride- with mostly Hindi music- but I was SO surprised to hear this song.! I felt a tinge of Americana home-sickness- Thanks, Miley?

At around 10:00, we pulled into NJP and Karma told me to follow him. We went to the front of the station which was packed with Jeeps- the main means of transportation to get to anywhere in Sikkim and Bhutan. We paid 200 rupees each for a seat- and after some waiting for the rest of the Jeep to fill up- made our way up to Sikkim. There's one main highway leading up to Sikkim- a two lane road that twists up steep sides of the Himalayan foothills for over 6 hours. I fortunately sat in the front passenger seat- so I had a great view the whole way up. Along the way, Karma would point to a tree on the side of the road and ask, "Do you have that in America?" I'd say no- all of the trees and plants were huge and waxy-looking and completely foreign to me. We passed a group of monkeys hanging out on the side of the road, and he pointed as asked if we had those in America- I said, "Not in the wild." But- I actually had to pause and think about that before I answered him. People constantly ask me about what America is like- and I've found it is SO difficult to sum up in a sentence or two because America is so diverse. When someone asks me what the climate is like- and I have to say "Well, on one side of the country- it's desert and on the other side- it's green forests...."

A stop at a road-side stand for mo-mos (local dumplings) and a stop at the Sikkim border to get my permit (for security reasons because Sikkim borders China)- we reached Gangtok. It was already dark- and all I could see was lights dotting the mountain sides- which were so steep that I could barely see the sky above! It was so beautiful.

I got dropped off at the Khardka Hotel- to which I was referred to by Tara-ji. She's from Sikkim and has family and many connections here. Along with this hotel, she gave me a list of restaurants and shops to visit. I was lead to my room, unpacked my things, and had a dinner of peanut butter and biscuits on my bed- I was too exhausted to venture out and get real food. As I was munching in bed, I heard a knock on my door. I opened it and there was standing a woman who looked strangely familiar- she looked like Tara-ji and spoke like her too- turns out it was her sister! This hotel is owned by her husband. She said if I needed anything to just give her a call.

The next morning, I got a phone call from my friend, Danielle (another SIT student- she goes to UVM too!)- who is doing research in Sikkim (there's three of us from our program who will be in Sikkim at some point during this month.) Funny thing about Danielle- although we both go to UVM, we'd never met before this program. There's 11,000 undergraduate students there, so this isn't THAT unbelievable. However, we've realized that we have many mutual friends. We applied totally separately but found out after we got accepted that we both went to UVM! It's been such a comfort to go through this with her- we're definitely going to hang out when we get back. It'll also be nice to have someone there to go through the adjustment process (reverse culture shock) with back at school. We've already agreed that when we see each other on campus, we'll greet each other with a "Namaste."

Anywho, we made plans to meet up and explore the city a bit together- although compared to other "cities," Gangtok isn't much of one. The entire population of Sikkim is 540,000 (the smallest of all Indian states.)  Gangtok's population is 98,000- but this includes the residential areas extending for miles outside of the city's heart. Danielle had bought us tickets to a soccer game- apparently it was the championship game between Nepal and (some other team- not Sikkim.) It seemed like a big deal- there were signs all over the streets for it. We made our way down the many series of steep stairs down alleyways to the stadium- which was PACKED with people. Funny thing- because the land here is so steep, they didn't even have to build bleachers- the seats just lied against the incline of the mountain side. I sat there and scanned the crowd- and noticed how different things were from Rajasthan. Firstly, most people seemed to be of some Asian origin. I barely saw any typical- "Indian" looking people- there's no P.C way I can phrase that. Another thing- most people wore Western clothing- women were wearing FORM FITTING PANTS and T-shirt! I even saw a man wearing an "As I Lay Dying" T-shirt (a hardcore metal band popular among Americana youth.) It really felt like I was in a totally different country.....again.

The soccer game was interesting, but the halftime show was more so. On to the field came a group of- wait for it- Bagpipers. Over the loudspeaker- they were announced as "The Sikkim Police Bagpipe Band!" Whaaaat?! They strutted onto the field and played the bagpipes in a way I've never heard before- no "Scotland the Brave" here. It was much more fast paced and higher pitched than what I was expecting. They had synchronized dance moves and moved all around the field for a good 15 minutes.  I was impressed.

Afterwards, we took a taxi to visit a Buddhist Monastery that Danielle's hot mother recommended we visit. We went inside the temples- which were all unbelievably decorated with intricate paintings of Buddhist stories and histories on the walls and ceiling. The shrines inside the temples were adorned with candles, bowls of water, tons of rupee notes, rice, little snacks, and other unidentifiable objects. It was a sensory overload.

Afterwards, we decided to walk back into town on our own instead of waiting for a taxi- we were in a pretty isolated area with little traffic. It was a 30 minutes walk straight downhill down a winding road- our calves were burning by the end of it! The topography here is so different from anything I've known before. Instead of telling someone "Go straight then right to get to this place," you'd say "Go up those stairs then up more then take a right up another flight of stairs."

Somehow we made it back into town (Danielle's been here for a week so she knows her way around) and onto the main street- a pedestrian street lined with shops that reminds me so much of Church Street in Burlington! Ahhh home! We got mo-mo's at a little hole in the wall and ate them sitting on a bench on the street. Again, I realized how different this place was from Rajasthan. Danielle said that 95% of the smells she smells here are GOOD smells! This is very different from Jaipur- where you get used to the constant smell of urine and garbage. She also said that people follow the traffic rules here. At every intersection we passed, there were at least 3 traffic police blowing their whistles and directing traffic. Again, VERY different from Jaipur where the road-lines mean nothing and the traffic-lights don't matter. Danielle also said that she feels a lot more comfortable here because she doesn't feel like she stands out as badly as she does in Jaipur. She said she gets stared at a lot less.

Danielle and I then went to a sweet shop to get some sweets for her interpreter and home-stay family- she leaves for the village tomorrow. Afterwards, we parted ways and she went to catch a taxi back to her home-stay home. I was on my own mission to find myself a sweater and a shawl to better handle the cold. I walked into probably 15 different stores to gauge prices. In almost every one, someone asked me where I was from (in English) and we started up a friendly conversation. I settled on buying a nice wool shawl for 200 rupees and a sweater for 650 rupees (since it's Diwali season, all of the prices are jacked up.)

Walking back to my hotel down the main street, I had to swerve around firecrackers blasting off from every direction. Tuesday is the main day of Diwali (kind of like how there's 25 days of Christmas leading up to the actual holiday) which means that there are fireworks EVERYWHERE- as Diwali is the festival of lights.  Now I understand why my academic director, Tara-ji told me to avoid wearing synthetic shirts- which I originally thought was just a suggestion. Every time I saw a group of boys scurry away from one area, I ran with them. I checked myself back at the hotel for any burn marks- and I was clear.

Tomorrow I meet with my ISP advisor to discuss my plan for the next three weeks. He's Danielle's advisor too and she said that he was incredibly accommodating and available to her, so I feel like I'll be in good hands. 

May I Ask You a Few Questions?

Back in Jaipur city, I spent a good 3 hours sifting through google-search results for girl's colleges- hoping to find one that I could visit and interview some of their staff and students. After a series of phone calls that involved the person on the other end passing the phone around to someone who spoke English (I forgot to plan for that happening- I REALLY need to brush up on my Hindi)- I got the okay to go to the Rawat Girl's College to speak with one of the administrators. After a 20-minute rickshaw drive, I reached the college- which was located underneath a highway flyover on the outskirts of the city. I walked onto the campus through a courtyard of groups of teenage girls sitting on the ground in circles talking with one another. All of the girls wore white salwar suits with blue scarves pinned on the front of their shirts that draped over their backs. I was wearing a Western button up shirt, black pants, and bright blue converse sneakers- I stood out like nobody's business.

A girl helped direct me to the main office, and I sat down and waited for the administrator to come meet me. After 10 minutes, a tall woman wearing a bright red sari strutted in and shook my hand very forcefully. She told me she was both a professor and an administrator at the school. I told her about my project and asked her a few questions about her family history and education. She said that she had a love-marriage and had decided to go to school after she got married with total support from her husband, parents, and in-laws. (Totally different from the village women I've spoken to that usually drop everything once they get married and move into their husband's home to live as housewives.) She had a Master's in English and Psychology and was the recipient of a prestigious award given to 1 of 35 selected women of Rajasthan who have worked to promote female development and education. SCORE! I asked her if she had children- she said she had a three-year old daughter. I asked her how difficult it was to manage a full-time job with the care-taking of a young child- she said it's very hard. On top of caring for her daughter, she said that she does all of the housework in her home- her husband doesn't lift a finger (granted, this is one side of the story, but I don't doubt it's validity very much.) I asked her if she wanted her husband to help her more and she said- "Of course I want him to, but he won't. Males are the dominant ones of the house! It's difficult to change that." For all of the confidence and independence this woman seemed to have, I was surprised to learn that she still suffered from the societal pressures of being a housewife....and even more surprised to learn that she accepted that this way of life wasn't negotiable.

The next woman I interviewed was a dentist at a local hospital. I found this contact as I was walking back from the Rawat Girl's College trying to flag down a rickshaw. Walking along, I scanned the many store signs lining the buildings and saw a bright orange sign for Raj Dental Hospital. I thought, Hmm....maybe there's a female dentist I can interview! I walked in and up three flights of stairs to the waiting room where I explained my project to the receptionist (who fortunately spoke English- I AGAIN realized I hadn't thought about that beforehand.) She must have thought I was crazy, not only because I was coming in out of nowhere asking to talk to a "lady dentist for my school project," but because I was completely out of breath and was pretty much gasping for air while trying to explain myself to her. I swear, the air is either thinner or so much more dry than what I am used to- I get out of breath doing even the most basic physical activity.

Anywho, she gave me a phone number and said, come back at 5:00pm. I left, not knowing what I had just agreed to. I got myself lunch at a sweet shop near my old neighborhood-  a sweet lassi served in a clay cup with a little wooden ice cream spoon for better scooping and an yellow-looking pound cake dish covered in green chilies. Everybody else was eating it, so I decided to give it a try too. The longer I'm in India, the more comfortable I feel trying new foods from places I'm unfamiliar with. For the first few weeks, I only ate in restaurants that were air conditioned (a sign of hygiene)- but my system is gradually getting used to the food. In the village two days ago, I was invited by one of the women to eat her homemade chapati- she had ground the flour herself from the wheat grown in her family's fields- topped with butter made from their own water buffalo. I don't think I've ever eaten anything so clean tasting in my life. This was followed by a sweet dairy drink (from the leftover liquid from making yogurt) along with a sweet made at the family's sweet shop in the local market.

Back to the rest of the day-

I went back to the dentist's office in the early evening and was greeted by a lovely women, Dr. Anu. She sat down with me and was the most friendly person I've spoken to do far- and the most successful! She has a Master's degree in Biochemistry along with her Doctorate in Clinical Dentistry where she works at two hospitals-one during the day and one in the evening. She said that I was welcome to come and attend one of her dental education camps for children to see what kind of work she does. We exchanged contact information, and as a thank you, she gave me this award (which they hand out to children after check-ups if take good care of their teeth...adorable!)

Later that evening, my interpreter (whom I had gotten to know pretty well these past few days) invited me to go out to dinner with him and his friend (our driver from the previous day.) They picked me up from the SIT center and when I asked them where we were going- they told me it was a surprise. After some confusion with directions (apparently it's not just the tourists who get confused with directions here)- we pulled into the Ramada Hotel- the highest, most brightly lit building on the block. I told them that they did NOT have to take me to such a nice place, but they kept insisting, "You're our guest! It's our tradition!" This was by far the fanciest meal in the most decadent restaurant I've had thus far. I ate with a FORK and had ICE CREAM (not simultaneously though) and drumroll...a MOJITO! It was quite enjoyable, but slightly awkward at times because while they spoke English fluently, we still had trouble communicating our ideas clearly to each other. I kept having to rephrase my questions- and had to avoid using sarcasm (I haven't had much luck with my humor being understood here.) I guess the English language without the cultural context isn't always enough to have effective conversation. Either way, it was an experience. I had another one of those- WHATTT am I DOING here?- moments.

Google-image of the Ramada hotel...Oh you fancy huh?

Next Day:

One of the SIT staff, Manoj-ji- who has lived in Jaipur his whole life and has held every kind of job possible from jewelry cutter to pharmacist-was kind enough to set me up with a pediatrician and a gynecologist from his old workplace for some interviews. When I reached the hospital, I introduced myself to the receptionist and was brought back to the office of the main pediatrician- Dr. Patra. He was in the middle of giving a shot to little boy- who mustn't have been older than 2-years- he was bawling his eyes out and clawing at his mother's sari, but Dr. Patra ushered me in to sit down in the room with him. I sat there- feeling very invasive- watching him fill syringes and give shots in this little boy's legs. The doctor then pulled out a jar of candies and shook it in front of the boy and his agonizing screams morphed into a wide-eyed fixation with the candy.

After the mother and boy left, I told Dr. Patra about my project and that I was interested in learning about pre-natal and women's health education. Although he didn't have much to say about the topics I was interested in (he referred me to the gynecologist for those questions,) he was very kind and told me about his private practice and the challenges they face as a small business. He said he chose to go into pediatrics because India has such a large youth population- over 30% of the current Indian population is under the age of 25. This is much higher than the average for most countries today. Thus, he said he feels it is necessary for the betterment of society to serve this demographic because as he said, "They're our future." 10 minutes into our conversation, another woman carrying a baby came into his office. Dr. Patra excused himself and began consulting the woman about her child- who was looking blue in the face- it was pretty scary actually. He picked the baby so nonchalantly and flipped it over onto it's stomach and poked around it's neck and face. Again- I felt like I shouldn't be in the room for this. But he talked with the mother for 5-minutes tops, filled out a few forms, and off they went.

More interview deets to come! I'm really starting to get the feel for how to balance having a successful interview while have a friendly-casual conversation with the person I'm interviewing. All of the people I've met so far have been so available and willing to give up their time to talk with me. I've gotten a few phone numbers, e-mails, invitations for dinners, and even a Facebook request from the administrator at the girl's college! #Making-Friends-In-India

***My interpret took a lot of photos while we were in the village. I asked him to send them to me, so I'll post them when he does!***

First Weekend Alone in India

The first few days of my ISP have been an interesting time to say the least. I've been set up by one of my Hindi teachers to stay at her family's old chemical factory 15 minutes outside of Jaipur with the "caretaker" family of the factory. She's also set me up with a family friend with connections in the local villages to organize interviews with village women and to interpret for me.

I didn't have much of a say in the planning of this first part of my ISP and let my Hindi teacher take the reigns because I have absolutely NO connections here! I didn't ask too many questions during the process for fear of giving off the impression that I was distrustful of her plans for me.....*foreshadowing*

Anywho, my Hindi teacher and her brother drove me to their factory, which was in the industrial part of Jaipur- the not-so-pretty section if the city that most people don't really have any reason to visit. My Hindi teacher told me a while back that I shouldn't be out past 6:00pm because it's not the safest most family-friendly area- the labor workers (all men) live above the factories they work in and apparently things get pretty rowdy at night. Even with this information, I agreed to stay there because I don't have a sense of what's normal or not normal anymore.

When we reached the factory, we walked around the back corner to a "house"- for a lack of a better term- which consisted of a clay floor and four roofed rooms- one bathroom, one room with a bed (for me) and two other rooms that looked like they were used for storing things (clothes, dishes, food.) I was greeted by a group of 7 or 8 people-old women, men, some children, and a goat- which I soon realized was the family pet and behaves more like a dog than my own dog does. I asked my teacher if they all lived here and she said that only 3 of them did- the rest came to visit because they knew I was coming. This may sound awkward but I've gotten used to feeling a spectacle- and FYI this is not an ego-booster at all. If anything, it makes me very self-conscious. Example: Last night, two 20-something year-old men just moseyed on into the house, said nothing to the family, stood 10 feet away from me, watched me eat my dinner, and left when I was finished. I'm starting to tire of the "Oh, they're just curious" explanation. I hope that my constant focus on women's rights and women's oppression in India doesn't jade me against Indian men!

So... to backtrack...The father showed me my room and my teacher and her brother exchanged a few words with them and left. Woo independence! I unpacked my things and decided that I should at least go out in the open area to be around the family. They started asking me questions in Hindi....and I was barely able to respond! I pulled out things like "mujhe aapke chai pasand hai" (I like your tea) and "kursi nahi chahie" (i don't need a chair.)  It was really embarrassing actually- I would not have made my Hindi teacher proud.

I sat and read by the clay stove as the mother rolled out chapati dough for dinner and tended the fire. The goat was roaming around the area munching on a tree branch that was hanging from a clothesline and the grandmother was washing clothes on the pavement. Had it not been for the constant truck honking and pounding metal in the background, I could have fallen asleep right there.

Day 2:

Woke up to the daughter bringing me chai and a packet of "Parle-Glucose Biscuits" for breakfast- the most common snack in India,i t seems. I ate them in my room by myself whilst watching an episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy on my laptop. As the Fab-5 were talking about manicures, mint-infused hair serum and Armenian chocolate, I was covering myself in Deet mosquito spray and mixing my chlorine-dioxide water drops into a cup of tap water so I wouldn't catch any water-borne illnesses (which I'm pretty sure I've failed at at least a few times.) I've accepted that I'm most likely going to have some kind of sickness throughout my time here. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Or just really dehydrated?

In the afternoon, my interpreter showed up and we talked for a bit about his job and family while waiting for his driver to meet us (he came to the factory via motorcycle- but as part of the legal obligations of my program- I'm not allowed to ride on one (along with bungee-jumping and zip-lining?) He told me that he is a lawyer for the Rajasthani high court- was not expecting that one. But it was beginning to make sense because he 1.) dressed very well 2.) had his own personal driver and 3.) was always on his phone. I all of a sudden realized that my planned 200 IND per day payment would be INSULTING to him- so I'm planning on getting him a gift instead? We'll see what happens.

The driver showed up, and we drove 10 minutes to a village called Aknela and approached a BEAUTIFUL house- decorated in the typical Hindu red and gold paint (colors of wealth and prosperity) along with swastiks painted above all of the doors and windows (a symbol of peace.) We sat down and three married women came out and huddled together under the doorway. (I can tell they're married just by how they cover their face with their scarves) along with the more obvious red paste they smudge on the middle top part of their forehead- right in-between the hair part.  After some coercing them to come and sit with us (village women tend to be very shy), I asked them my set of questions including:

-Do you have a personal or joint bank account? (Most women didn't have a bank account at all)
-Do you plan on choosing your daughter's husband for her? (Most said yes)
-Do you make your own money? (Most don't generate any source of income and rely on asking their husbands for money)
-What standard are you educated? (Education levels differ from the states- but most women are educated up until the 3rd grade (American level) or standard 5 (Indian level.)
-What do you want for your children when they grow up? (Most want their girls to be teachers and their boys to be policemen- almost everybody said they want their children to have government jobs-because government jobs are high paying and rarely fire their employees.)
-Do you have to seek permission from your husband to leave your house? (Most do- but most women said that they don't even leave their house.)
-What do you do in your free time? (Most said- Rest. Which after hearing what their responsibilities were- an exhaustive list that began at 5:00am with milking the water buffalo to 9:00pm with bathing her  children- I can understand why all they want to do is sleep.)

It was really interesting and I learned a lot about how difficult rural women's lives are. Most of their answers were what I was expecting (and what I was hoping to get to support my hypothesis for my research paper.) But what I didn't expect is that even though these village women have little to no control over their lives, they are aware of the oppression that they're under. They KNOW they're under appreciated. They KNOW they're overworked. They KNOW that their husbands have control over them- but they feel that this patriarchal system of oppression has too much power over them and is too deeply rooted in their society and that they aren't powerful enough to change it without completely exiling themselves from their family and community. Is it worth it? In a small, isolating village where people rarely leave, it's usually not.

Which brings me to one other question I asked the women: "If you could change anything about your life, what would it be?" Almost every woman sad that she wished she had a better education. When I asked what education would have done for them, they listed things off like "I could have made my own money and not have to ask my husband for $ to buy food" or "I could have gotten out of this village and gone to the city."

Day 3-

I was beginning to feel cramped and isolated in the factory, and after two long days of interviewing village women and their families (which was very valuable...but I realized that after the 3rd interview, that most of the information I'd get would be the same..or at least very similar,) I decided to leave and come back into Jaipur city until I leave for Sikkim on Friday (plus it's saves me moneys!)  The home-stay coordinator, the lovely Rama-ji, who seems to know EVERYBODY in Jaipur, set me up to spend the night at one of the other home-stay family's homes- Neelimi-ji and her husband. They have their own pre-school where they're responsible for over 50 younglings ranging from 15 months old to 6 years old. I asked her if I could come in an interview some of her staff about female education, and she said sure!

After a long day of interviews and packing and unpacking, the Neelimi-ji said that they were going to go to her sister-in-law's son's birthday party- and they invited me along. I was exhausted, but I thought hey, when am I going to get the chance to go to a 9-year old Indian boy's birthday party again? We reached sister-in-law's house and were greeted by at least 10 people-  3 grandmothers sitting in the corner watching an Indian soap-opera, 3 young children running around the house, 1 very disinterested teenage girl, and a bunch of happy middle-aged couples drinking tomato soup from chai cups. To my good luck, mostly everybody spoke English! This made the night so much more enjoyable.

*SIDE NOTE*- I'm fascinated by Indian homes. They all have that one interesting piece of furniture (or lack there of- like in my old home-stay with the Bhatts whose "living room" consisted of a whole lot of floor mats and pillows lining the walls- a PERFECT place to nap.) This house in particular had a bronze-looking chain-linked swinging couch hanging from the ceiling covered in little bronze bells with the occasional perching bronze parrot hanging off a chain loop.... This description probably doesn't give you the most accurate visual, but I literally cannot think of any other way to describe what this...ride?...was. Yet, it was super comfortable to sit on and rock. And the bells added a nice little ambiance.

I could go on in detail about what this Indian birthday party was like and how it was SOO different from America, but surprisingly, had it not been for the Krishna wall-hangings, I might as well have been back in New York. We ate good food and talked about school and family and life and what not, sang happy birthday to the boy, ate cake, and opened presents. It felt really familiar which was such a nice feeling to have again.