The magical, the mystical

I think I may have mentioned in a previous post how hot it is here? Allow me to reiterate that. It is hot, and what makes that even more fun is that it’s humid as well. I actually love the heat of summer, but when it’s 95 degrees and the humidity is above 90%, that is too much, people. I’ve been sweating in places on my body where I didn’t know it was possible to sweat. My clothes (and everyone else’s, lest you think something is wrong with me) are soaked by the end of the day. I read a story about India where the narrator described how the roots of her hair were wet. I can now empathize.

I apologize if that was graphic, but now you’ll understand if my face is particularly shiny and gross-looking in these pictures from the hottest day of our trip so far. You may recognize this monument. Oh yes, I’m talking about The One. The one you’ve all been asking about. The Seventh Wonder of the World. (Trying to give appropriate buildup here.)The magical, the mystical…

THE TAAAAAAAAAAJJJJJJJJJ!!!!! (Mahal, that is.)

 Yes, that’s right, folks. After a week in Delhi, we made the four-hour trek to Agra to see the world-famous site. And it did not disappoint:

The Taj Mahal is every bit as awe-inspiring, every bit as beautiful, as it is in the pictures. A quick bit of background, while trying not to bore you. (If you happen to be the world’s leading expert on the Taj Mahal, you may skip this paragraph.) Finished in 1648, the Taj Mahal was built by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan as a maeusoleum for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal. He was supposed to build an identical tomb in black across the river, but he died or ran out of money or something before he could. Today, the Taj is an Islamic holy site, which is why you have to cover your shoes before you enter.

Sexy.

I was most interested to see if the Taj’s appearance is more “real” in person than it is in pictures. Do you know what I’m saying? How, even in photographs, the mausoleum has this slightly unearthly quality of being not an actual building, but painted like a picture? I report back to you now that in person, the Taj Mahal does look like an actual, three-dimensional, very concrete structure. (When I used concrete in that last sentence, I meant the opposite of abstract. The Taj is actually made of inlaid marble.)

Of course, we had to go inside after coming all that way. The interior is surprisingly very small, dark, and crowded, with a sort of latticed marble fence surrounding the tombs of the Shah Jahan and his queen. (Did you know that the emperor’s tomb is the only non-symmetrical part of the building? Am I being annoying enough yet with all these facts?) Plus, it smells musty and funny inside, and people keep trying to make spooky noises, which echo and actually do sound spooky. After one too many sinister-sounding “oooooohs,” I was more than happy to go back outside.

I took way too many pictures, but the weird thing is how many people wanted to take pictures of me. My Uncle Mike, who comes to India often on business, warned me that as a white girl, I would get a lot of stares. The staring doesn’t bother me, but the pictures do. Many Indians, especially men, like to take pictures of or with white people. Apparently it’s a status symbol here, but to me, it’s just creepy. We haven’t seen many races other than Indian here, even at tourist sites like the Taj, so I guess I kind of understand. Kind of. Not really.

The bolder ones silently snap photos of us as we’re walking by (not trying to hide it at all, I might add). For those, I try to cover my face or turn my back. The politer (?) people do at least ask, but when I refuse, they beg: “Please, ma’am! Please!” I’ve stopped trying to be polite. I’m not an animal in a zoo! It’s really disturbing that you want a picture with me! Not to mention, what do you say to your friends and coworkers when you’re showing your pictures? “Oh, here’s me and a random white girl in front of the Taj Mahal.”

We did eventually have to leave, and it was sad, but to be honest, I was relieved. We were melting. We had been warned that the Taj tour guides will take you to shops their friends own in return for commission, and ours did not disappoint. I and several other people in my group wanted to see the Agra Fort, but noooooo. Instead, we were ushered into a shop that sells inlaid marble in the same style as the Taj.

I admit, it was beautiful, but I had already bought my inlaid marble souvenir. Plus, I’m turned off by pushy salespeople. Nothing will convince me not to buy your product faster than you pressuring me to buy it, and that’s pretty much the modus operandi here. Bored and a bit skeeved out, I wandered around and giggled and the ridiculous things made of marble that I will never buy.

Seriously, where would I put this?

On the other hand, maybe I just needed a different view of things.

Happy birthday Mom!

Another four-hour trip across the freeway commenced, with our first glimpses of rice paddies and straw huts and people sitting on the side of the busy road. We cooed over the baby monkeys chewing power lines in Agra and, after a rousing and somewhat inexplicable chorus of “Buffalo Soldier”, we were back in Delhi to begin our second week there.

Let's go to the mall!

By Saturday, our dear SRCC students needed a break from herding us around, so we gave them the weekend off while we pressed on. To be honest, I could have used a break, too, but we must continue our tireless expedition so as not to miss anything. Breaks are for the weak, I suppose.

NOIDA, a government-planned expansion of Delhi (NOIDA is an acronym for the government name), was our destination today. A lot more high rises and planned housing projects than the actual city, as well as a $10 million park honoring dalits (untouchables)...that they built instead of using that money to actually help the untouchables. Some things are the same worldwide.

Our main excursion within NOIDA was the Akshardam Temple. Absolutely no cameras were allowed inside, so you'll have to be content with my descriptions and this picture I took from the bus:

Up close, the temple is gorgeous--very intricately carved and actually very new (they only finished building it in 2005). It was built to honor the Bhagwan Swaminarayan, a Hindu visionary, and a name you will hear much more of before this blog post is over! Prepare yourself.

After we surrendered our cameras and bags--pretty much everything--a sign gave us the most detailed list of forbidden items I've never seen, including certain types of sweets (why they didn't just say "no food and drink" is beyond me), and not only alcohol, but drunkards as well. So, being from Penn State, none of us were allowed inside. (Cue cymbals.)

Courtesy Google Images

We had heard this was an interactive temple, not just a space of worship, so we were excited to receive tickets to various "activities" on the grounds. Oh, how little did we know. This is where the story gets...strange.

We were ushered through a set of dark rooms for our first ride, of sorts. I say ride because this was sort of a cross between It's a Small World and Pirates of the Caribbean at Disney World, only creepier. A set of lifelike Animatronics told us the story of the Bhagwan Swaminarayan by showing scenes of his life. "Come," the voice said each time, urging us to the next room. "Let us see how the Bhagwan Swaminarayan..." and then it would say what he'd be doing in the next room. If you're wondering how I remember such a long and impossible name, it's because the narrator only repeated it about 5,000 times, using the entire name each time.

Looks friendly enough. Courtesy Google Images

Bhagwan Swaminarayan was apparently some sort of Hindu prodigy, reciting the Vedas (holy book) by age five and making animatronic fishermen scream tortured screams when he gave them visions of hell. I had several problems with this presentation:

1) This guy, who was supposed to be no better than anyone else, was shown in several scenes wearing a jeweled turban and sitting on a throne, doling out advice. Even in the childhood scene, he's wearing these perfect clothes while the other children are in rags. So much for practicing what you preach.

The humble Swami on his throne. Courtesy Google Images.

2) The devotion people showed him was kind of absurd. In one scene, a poor couple with no food or possessions is struggling through the desert when they happen upon an expensive silver bangle. Instead of selling that bangle to buy food and a place to live, they bury it in the sand, remembering the lessons of Bhagwan Swaminarayan. "

Remember," said the wife, "how Swaminarayan came to visit us, ate our food, and taught us to be honorable and not take the possessions of others?" Well, there you go! Not only is this jeweled turban guy being a hypocrite by telling others not to seek wealth, he's eating them out of house and home as well! No wonder they're starving! Couldn't he bring them food instead of just praying with them and having them serve him? I'm surprised they didn't tell the Bhagwan Swaminarayan to stick that jeweled turban where the sun don't shine.

3) Finally, the animatronics were just creepy. They were actually high-tech, and I almost screamed when Swaminarayan stood up from his throne and prayed at one point. In another scene where he's practicing yoga, he just kept raising and lowering his arm with a continued, "Ommmmmmmmmmm... ommmmmmmmmm..."

Courtesy Google Images

We managed to escape from the animatronic people alive and were herded to an IMAX movie! About the life of Bhagwan Swaminarayan. I kid you not. We watched a slightly more detailed version of the exact same story (played out by real, live people, thank goodness). The movie focused on the life of the young Swami, this smart-alecky kid named Neelkanth that I wanted to smack for most of the film, and his journeys across dangerous rivers and into the Himalayas to spread his wisdom. I'm sorry, but no. This 11-year- old kid did not climb mountains like Everest and K2 in only a loincloth and live to tell the tale. Also, the slightly-older version of Neelkanth is played by the Indian version of Michael Jackson. I kept expecting him to break out into "Man in the Mirror" when he was stopping the villains from throwing fire.

You thought I was kidding about the Michael Jackson thing, didn't you. Oh, no. No no no. Courtesy Google Images

Also, did I mention that that's all that happens in this movie? The kid walks around. That's it.

After this event mercifully ended, we were ushered to the final setup: a flume ride! I threw up my hands and gave a cheerful, "Woohoo!" as our boat careened down the initial baby hill. With any luck, it would be a mini version of Tidal Force.

Nope. Instead, we sailed around a flat, peaceful canal, learning about how Indian civilization was the first to develop everything in the world. There wasn't even music, just this eerie silence behind the narrator's voice and lifelike statues on the sides writing in Sanskrit and frozen in dancing positions. At least we didn't have to hear anymore about the Bhagwan Swaminarayan.

I even would have been okay with a baby flume ride. Courtesy Google Images

After this whole rigamarole, we did finally get to go inside the temple. I have to admit, it was beautiful. When the doors are open at night, you can see the gold statue of the Swami from the highway half a mile away. But by that point, I would have been perfectly happy never hearing another word about the Bhagwan Swaminarayan.

Perhaps our chaperone sensed this, because our second part of the day was a mall. Indian shopping malls, while not so different from larger American malls, are quite an experience in themselves. There were quite a few restaurants, endless stores, and even a club, throbbing with bass beats at 3 PM:

Before we left, a few of us stopped at the bookstore. Ali--perhaps the most proper member of our group--had the scandalous, yet intriguing, idea to pick up one of India's classic works of literature: the Kama Sutra. I won't say much more, except that there were lots of giggles and some reading aloud on the bus, with Chris, our group's token boy, commenting, "You guys are so base." Among the more innocent tidbits I can share: did you know the Kama Sutra includes a list of 64 things men should learn to make themselves desirable? Number 24 is "making lemonades, sherbets, and drinks." I insist that any potential husband of mine learn this most invaluable skill.

Come! Let us see how the Bhagwan Swaminarayan made his lover a homemade sherbet.

A whole new set of tastebuds

As a self-professed food snob, the biggest question I've gotten since arriving (apart from, "Are you safe?! Are you ok?!) is about the Indian cuisine. "How's the food??" my best friend messaged me. "Is the food good?" asked my mom. Food is one of the things I was looking forward to most about this trip, and I am happy to say that, for the most part, it has not disappointed.

But first! Friday was another all-day adventure away from school. In the morning we explored the National Museum, sort of the Indian equivalent of the Smithsonian. This is one of those museums that explores the history of the country through various mediums--art, sculpture, artifacts--and it would take several days to look at it all. You will all be happy to know that I finally found an acceptable souvenir: a bronze elephant, dating from, oh, about 2000 B.C., that I will be stealing from the National Museum in the dead of night and bringing back home. Won't everyone else in my group look silly, with their tapestries and their inlaid marble and their statues of Buddha, when I pull out my bronze elephant!

Other highlights included an ancient skeleton (quite the memento mori for the day), an elephant tusk carved intricately with scenes from the Buddha's life, and various intricate paintings of the Lord Krishna and his lover, Radha. For the benefit of non-Hindus reading this, Lord Krishna is the blue dude you always see in Indian art. Ever wonder why he was blue? Here's your fun fact for the day, explained to me by one of the SRCC girls: painting someone blue was a way to show how dark his or her skin was. Lord Krishna was supposed to be very dark indeed, especially compared to his lover Radha. If you squint, it actually kind of works.

Also, as a side note, Lord Krishna actually had many wives, but his deepest love was always devoted to Radha, who never married him, yet is considered his perfect match. Well, aren't we quite the stud of ancient times!

And then we got bored and started impersonating the Hindu statues. Typical.

After lunch we trekked to Cottage Industries, a fair trade store that pays craftsmen a good price for their wares and sells those items so the craftsmen don't have to bargain on the streets. Did I mention that I am not a shopper? I'm really not a bargainer, so I was very happy to pick up most of my presents and souvenirs here, even if they were slightly more expensive. (They were still pretty darn cheap.) For myself I picked up a sandalwood bracelet that smells insanely good, masala chai so I can get my fix back at home, and a small piece of inlaid marble, one of the treasures of India that my uncle recommended I buy.

Did I mention this place was huge? Five floors. Massive.

Our last stops were an ancient well and Jantar Mantar, an ancient and complex astronomy calculation system designed by one of the ancient emperors. It didn't feel like a scientific complex so much as a scene from a Dr. Seuss book:

You have brains in your head! You have feet in your shoes! You can steer yourself any direction you choose!

Now, back to what I'm sure you all want to know about: THE FOOOOOOOOOD!

(As I typed that, some guy began a singsongy Indian chant outside my window. I'll take that as a good sign.)

From what I can gather, North Indian food is more based in rice and heavy sauces, while South Indian food is lighter and consists of more dips. North Indian food is what we commonly have at Indian restaurants in America: masalas, paneer (a kind of cross between cottage cheese and tofu that is deliciouso), saag, etc. Here it's a bit heavier on the vegetables, which is fine by me.

Between the National Museum and our shopping, we lunched at a restaurant known for its South Indian cuisine. (Here most decent restaurants have security guards at the front doors to keep out the riffraff.)

The SRCC students ordered for us, so we didn't really know what we were getting. Luckily, Singh was joining us for lunch, so we had him to explain everything to us. First was a mysterious white drink that looked creamy and refreshing. A milkshake perhaps? What followed was one of the strangest taste experiences I've ever had: salty and creamy, with the lightest touch of heat somehow permeating the whole thing.

Singh, happily slurping the entire concoction down, told us the contents: yogurt, salt and pepper, and a green chile pepper.

Yeah. We promptly ordered a mango lassi instead.

We may be smiling, but we're crying inside.

The actual food was much more pleasant. This was my favorite. I honestly don't remember the name (I'm a terrible food blogger, I know), but it was a sort of rice pancake with vegetables and various dipping sauces: a lentil dal, a slightly sweet coconut chutney, a savory tomato sauce, a green chile chutney, and a smoky chile paste.

The dosa came with the same sauces. A sort of lightly fried Indian crepe, this was filled with a creamy potato filling that was quite similar to a pierogi. An Indian pierogi, that is.

We finished off our meal with halva, a sort of porridge of sweetened grains that we all really enjoyed (despite its off-putting color):

And finally, the waiter presented us with these mystifying bowls:

Blurry, I know. I never said I was a photographer.

This is the Indian equivalent of an after-dinner mint. You take a small handful of the anise seeds (bottom), add a few cubes of crystallized sugar (above), throw them back in your mouth, and chew. I was apprehensive, but the flavor was really unique and refreshing. "I like this," I said. "The sweetness of the sugar, the surprising flavor of the anise--it really cleanses your palate."

"It tastes like a portapotty," said Ana.

Honestly, I haven't hated almost anything I've tried here--no, not even the salty yogurt drink. It's just all so very different from the flavors I've had all my life. I don't know what to make of new foods like tamarinds and pickled vegetables at breakfast. It's like my tongue is discovering a whole new set of tastebuds I never knew I had.

Demolished. I may become the first obese person in India.

This was also the first part of our trip where we encountered pushy beggars. Outside the restaurant, waiting for our bus, a girl of no more than six years old with a shaved head shoved some cheap necklaces in our faces--or as close to our faces as she could reach. "Ten rupees!" she said, and when we shook our heads and said no, she kept insisting. Even when we crossed the street, even when one of the SRCC girls yelled at her in Hindi, she kept following us. When she finally left, a man approached us. "I give you good price," he said, showing us some trinket, and when we said no, he walked away, defeated. We watched his retreating back.

"I wonder," said Sharmila, "if this is a recent thing, or if he began as young as that girl...? Has this been his whole life?"

We were all quiet. It was something to think about.

They're the greatest

Our days here in Delhi have assumed a sort of pleasant, relaxed routine, and if you know me at all, you know that I love routines. As I've never mentioned before on this blog, "we" consists of a group of 12 students from the Schreyer Honors College at Penn State. We're being hosted for this leg of our cross-cultural experience by students from the University of Delhi, namely the Shri Ram College of Commerce (SRCC). This is the most elite business school in the country, taking only the top 1% of India's high school students.

In case you were wondering, yes, we feel terribly inadequate by comparison.

Anyway! We're up for breakfast at the guest house, to SRCC by 9 (or a little after), and in the mornings we work on our assigned group presentations and papers--yes, we're doing actual schoolwork here! My group is tackling "Water." I'll leave that up to you to interpret. As you can see from the short video below, our work sessions are intense and productive:

After work session, we have a lecture from one of several professors at the college, on everything from business ethics to multiculturalism to child rights. All are quite good--the professors here are really stellar--but my favorite was the talk given by Sanjay Kumar, an English and theatre professor (what a surprise, I know). He helps traumatized and poor children write and produce their own plays about their experiences and the world around them. They're not all sad, either--the one he showed us about gender stereotypes included two boys courting a female traffic cop with a Bollywood song.

As a writer, I was all in for how he was actively using creativity to combat social problems. In fact, my playwriting professor at Penn State conducts the same kind of work with abused children. It was affirming to know that they're using the same kind of right-brain therapy all over the world.

After lunch, we take a bus or rickshaws and head out to explore Delhi. The SRCC students have become not only our friends, but our guardians and saviors. Doubtless one of us would have gotten scammed or run over by a bus by now without them helping us to cross the street, bargain with the vendors, and tell us what is and isn't safe to eat. They're the greatest, and that's an understatement.

Thursday was one such day of work and play. After--ahem!--hard work in the morning, accompanied by Professor Kumar's lecture, we were off to the Center for Social Research. This is an NGO devoted to gender equality and women's rights from birth to death and everything in between. We were introduced to the founder, "one of the best public speakers in India" (she didn't disappoint), and listened to another excellent lecture about the changing perspective of women in India.

We rounded off our day with a trip to Delli Haat, an open marketplace with pavilions representing each of India's 28 states. Think Epcot, but with shopping instead of passport stamps and rides. I'm not really a shopper, but I had fun taking pictures with my new friend Rukmini. We stopped at a food stand, where she had me sample local delicacies like crystallized ginger and tamarinds.

There have been exceptions, such as our day visiting temples, but for the most part, we've stuck to this loose schedule. I'm probably the only girl in the world who enjoys lectures and projects more than shopping, but... actually, I have nothing more to add to that. I'm probably the only girl in the world who's like that.

Rest assured, shopping was done. But that's a story for another blog post.

A Tale of Four Temples (and a fort)

To begin this blog post like a bad high school essay, there are many emotions I have felt so far on this trip. They are:

-Hot
-Sweaty
-Awed
-Gross (from being hot and sweaty)
-Frazzled
-Amazed
-Cranky (from being hot, sweaty, and gross)
-Amused
-Annoyed
-Shell-shocked (in the mildest way possible)
-Giggly

(Please note that hot, sweaty, and gross are not actually emotions.)

Lead by our hosts, the elite students of the Shri Ram College of Commerce, today we ventured out past the university neighborhood into the more touristy sections of Delhi. These are simple, quiet streets full of serenity, with absolutely no one hassling or honking at you.

Our field trip's goal was to explore some of India's many religions: Sikhism, Jainism, Hinduism, and Islam. After the initial shock of stepping off the metro into the madness you see above, we donned headscarves and ditched our shoes for Girdwara Sis Ganj, one of the holiest Sikh temples where the Ninth Guru was beheaded by the emperor.

It's a real shame we couldn't take pictures inside most of the holy sites, because they were a-mazing. You're in absolute astonishment at the richness of the ornate altar and surroundings, the quarter tones of the singers, and the total devotion of the people who step inside. We hardly talked inside the temple, by far the most impressive one of the day.

Luckily, we had Singh, a Penn State student living in Delhi, joining us for the day, because he saved our butts in there. "No!" he hissed at us. "You can't turn your back on the altar. And you can't click." (Clicking is what they call taking pictures here.) Back outside, he instructed us on the origins and traditions of Jainism. None of the SRCC students are Sikh, so they listened just as eagerly as we did.

(The dude at the top of the post is a Sikh in traditional dress.)

Around this time, my friend Ana (you can see her at the right edge of the last picture) elbowed me and raised her eyebrows. "The guy in blue," she said, nodding to the bench where men were retrieving their shoes. "He's extremely attractive." We both made like typical college girls and giggled like goons. Remember this story for later.

Off we went to the Hindu temple, where we again took off our shoes and ascended into a cool, but still rather freaky, assembly of the various Hindu gods on altars. I was particularly creeped out by what looked like a giant aluminum-foil-wrapped baked potato with eyes (I swear I didn't mean to make that pun). "It is the god Ganesha," said one of the SRCC girls, coming up next to me. For you non-Hindus out there, that's the god with the elephant head and human body. I'm sorry, but this evil baked potato was a pretty poor representation of an elephant.

The more accurate, non-baked potato god.

Perhaps to counter Lord Tater, a smiling old man painted a sandalwood tikka mark on my forehead and handed me a marigold with a piece of cotton, little gifts from the gods. There was a heady, overwhelming scent of marigolds, and I stepped around a man washing the stone floors with a hose on my way out.

Two buildings over, we were at the Jain temple. (Note, these temples are all in pretty close proximity on the same street. How's that for multiculturalism?)

Jain is the world's oldest religion and is much like Buddhism. (You visit that many temples in a time crunch, you start to see the similarities between religions.) We viewed more intricate stonework and rang various bells around the temple, the sound of which is supposed to purify the air and one's mind. I don't know about that; I'd be pretty irritated if bells kept interrupting my prayers. There was also a bird hospital, and those of you that know me know that this wasn't my favorite thing on the planet, but I survived the claustrophobic land of many birds. Some of the girls found a talking parrot and were cooing at it, which caused the Jain SRCC student to fly at them, screaming, "Lord Mohar [founder of Jainism, dead for thousands of years] would not like you to make all this noise in a hospital!"

As we left the temple, Ana grabbed my arm and pulled me aside. "Remember the attractive guy in blue?" she asked in a low voice. "Three o' clock." Yep, there he was. Funny, I had seen him at the Hindu temple as well as the Sikh one. "I think he's following us," she said.

We alerted the SRCC students, who started murmuring and shooting looks at the man. Ana and I exchanged worried, yet proud glances. We were observant! We were looking out for the rest of the group! Surely word would get around that we had saved everyone's lives and wallets.

Until word got around to Singh and he started laughing. Hot Guy in Blue, along with three other men we hadn't noticed, were his bodyguards.

We then took a pause in religious instruction to visit one of India's historical sites, the Red Fort, looming at the end of the street.

This is massive, dating from the 17th century, built by the Shah Jahan (the dude who also built the Taj Mahal, in case you've heard of that). It used to be surrounded by a moat, and inside the walls are a market, gardens, a small military museum, and various other buildings that I really can't tell you more about. (Update: this website seems to be helpful.)

Around this time we started getting hungry, hot, tired, and cranky in various stages.

Or, in Maryrose and Ana's case, all of those at the same time.

 Lunch was in order, and we went to a restaurant specializing in South Indian food. Everything was delicious, but the only name I remember is pab bhaja, a dish of various vegetables stewed together and served with bread for dipping. (Lunch was a lot of dipping.) We all sighed at relief at how wholesome it was until we realized that ours was served with a healthy pat of butter. Don't be surprised if I come back from India in a Hover Round.

Our final stop, one life-threatening, rickety rickshaw ride away, was the Jama Masjid, a historic mosque. This was my favorite building from the day:

Unfortunately, this is the only view we got of the temple, as we were denied entry by a rude man who told us that our T-shirts were unseemly and that we had to have our arms covered to enter the mosque. So, to irritate him, we took lots of group pictures on the steps. I think we succeeded in our mission.

I would like to add at this point that we did spot a Baptist church on the same street, but considering I see one every day at home when I drive home from town, I didn't really consider this picture-worthy.

Our final adventure of the day came when the rickshaw carrying Ali (above, middle) and Drea didn't show up at the Metro station. There were frantic phone calls and waiting around, and our Penn State chaperone, Dr. Stoller, threw up his hands and shrugged. In the end, it was a minor misunderstanding. The rickshaw driver had taken Ali and Drea to the next stop up.

Ali started giggling madly when we had finally found here and were waiting for the next train home.

"What?" I asked. "What are you laughing at?"

"This...life.." she managed to get out, and we all laughed, too.

As close as they appear

Dear Mom,

Here are a few snapshots from my commute back to the hotel this evening.

Did I mention I was in a rickshaw? Yep, those things from the movies.

Cars in picture are indeed just as close as they appear. In fact, closer. And all honking.

Absolutely no one in India was fazed.

Yours, with love,
Laura

Double bonus

I'm here! In the land of Gandhi and Salman Rushdie and Jhumpa Lahiri and Slumdog Millionaire! And I have WiFi, AND I haven't gotten sick yet! I'm considering this a double bonus.

In the heat of the night we stepped out of the Delhi airport after 13 hours in the sky (which went surprisingly fast; I slept a lot, albeit badly) and onto the bus that would take us to the International Guest House at the University of Delhi. Did I mention the humidity? It's like perpetually stepping out of a hot shower.

I woke up this morning, in my spartan-yet-peaceful hotel surroundings, at 2:30. (I'm well-known for my atrocious jet lag, which has been known to last for as long as two weeks.) Instead of falling back to sleep, I thought of pancakes and French toast for the next five hours, until breakfast opened. No pancakes (or coffee!) to be had, but chappatis with jam, toast, chai, and cornflakes with hot milk (?!?) filled in nicely.

We're off on our first adventure in about half an hour--a walk to SRCC, India's foremost college of economics. Assume, if I don't post again, that I didn't survive the humidity. Farewell.

Oh, and some wise guy decided to message me and ask if I was "Steve" and could fix his cell phone. Cute, guys, but I'm not desolate enough to start work at a call center.