India is a confusing place. As you can see from the billboard above, well, people just have a different interpretation of what normal life really is. I spotted this ad for the SPCA and just had to snap a photo.

Yes, things are different here.  So many things are confusing, and the contradictions are endless.

Let’s take equality, which is really a joke here. India tries hard to be all about empowering people and creating equality, but at the same time, there are massive rules (especially for women) that go very much against the idea of independence or freedom. Women shouldn’t be out at night. Women aren’t allowed in bars. Men can dress like slobs but oh no, women must be nicely groomed and expensively dressed. Youngsters, even up through the age of 30 or more, still live with their families and must inform their fathers whenever they intend to leave the house or are stuck out later than expected. Just the other day I saw this billboard, which reminded me of the strict curfews.

Names are hard to remember here, and when you have 40 coworkers and over 50 students, it can be a challenge. Given that in America we have names such as Gary, Mary, Larry, and Kerry, I know I shouldn’t be annoyed with the similarity in names here, but I am. There’s Geeta. Neeta. Kavita. Holy Sheeta. How am I to remember?

Here’s another random ad I saw. It’s weird and confusing, that much is for sure. Not sure how this service would do in the U.S., but it certainly takes the worry out of life, right? 

Smelly people. Now there’s a great source of puzzlement in this country! Why is it that people here will spend more time bathing their water buffalo (as in, they’ll wash them by hand and kindly massage them) than themselves? Even people in my office smell TERRIBLE. And that’s coming from me. Me. Showering out of a bucket may be harder and more time-consuming then a traditional spray shower, but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to smell bad all the time! Sure, we all walk through puddles of garbage, dirt, toxic smoke, and other small human and animal hazards to get to work each day, but that doesn’t mean I should shudder when you sit down two feet away to show me your powerpoint presentation for review.

Speaking of smells, well, I thought it would only be proper of me to write about the garbage without investigating all the facts. So I saw this billboard for what I thought was an American company, but I guess now they’ve come to India? Not sure about this one…I don’t know if I like the tone. Can’t tell if they’re playing with my head or what!

Speaking of work, well, that’s a fun one. There are no street signs here, so one has to rely on landmarks and visuals to get anywhere. I, for example, remember that to get to work, I walk 300 paces once I see the first cow, then turn left at burning garbage pile #4. If I reach the panther preserve, I’ve gone too far.  No really, it only takes 15-20 minutes to walk from my apartment. Once on my street, one literally goes right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right. Lysdexics should allot more time for navigational errors.

Even looking out my window at any given time of day offers just a hint to the mess of a world out on the “quiet” suburban street below. I’ll go look out now to give you an accurate account of what’s before my eyes at this moment. Ah, here…a coconut tree, colorful houses, chalk drawings on each dirt doorstep, stray dogs, a dirt street, a temple, garbage, some kids playing, women re-sweeping dirt, and a urinating gent.

Oh, I knew I had one more photo to share. After all, one has to keep hands clean in order to stay healthy in India! Strangely, I’ve been here a month and a half and have felt sick at least 5 times. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Anyway.

Okay folks, that’s all I have for right now. I’m still so confused, but let me know if you have any answers. I’ll be working on hunting down the truth and trying to figure out what this place is all about. Perhaps I’ll share a creepy stalker story next time, or maybe I’ll actually tell you what work I’m doing here! Don’t I always promise that? Yeah, don’t count on me telling you or even figuring it out for myself. There’s much time left here though, folks, so together we’ll figure out what makes India tick.

Until next time, over and out!

Kathryn

…and Godzilla 2.0 stood hovering over them, arms clawing the air and a giant roar shaking the Earth. The villagers stared up, eyes bulging with fear, shaking as they realized their fate.

Oh, hi everyone, and welcome to Update #2! The above material? Oh, that’s just what happened during my layover when I stood and stretched in front of a group of Hong Kong tourists who were, well, vertically challenged. They really did gape up at me in horrified amazement, but that’s probably because I’m super pasty and they’re all 5’1”.

Anyhow, life since arriving in India has been…full of activity. That activity being predominantly eating, true, but activity nonetheless.

I arrived at my friend Anshul’s at almost 1 in the morning, and because he lives in West Delhi, and not the part with “Hotel, ma’am?” tourists,  my cab driver got lost and had to ask for directions at least 8 times, no joke. Along the way, I got my first taste of India: People standing in the middle of the road for no reason, lots of stray dogs, a lack of traffic rules, poverty right aside technology, smells of all types, a surprising amount of English on billboards and homes, an inability by most to read said English, tons of motorcycles,  and more.  Due to all the photos one sees of India, plus my past past travels in 3^rd world countries, well, it seemed like everything I expected.

The next days with Anshul and his family were full of merry eating and the less merry results of that street food eating, ya know what I’m sayin’? But really, we ate so many different foods, went on a mini road trip, did photography on street corners, and so much more. We had chole bhature for breakfast, aloo tikki with yogurt and pomegranate seeds, pav bhaji—incredible fried butter rolls, mooli parathas, tila kulfi, kofta, bhalla pappdi, and so darn many more dishes. Did I mention the mango and butterscotch milkshakes in old-fashioned glass bottles? Yeah, I was a happy gal. And best of all was the fact that aside from going into New Delhi to purchase my train ticket, I saw not a single tourist!

Yes, though I didn’t get the daulat ki chaat dish I have been dreaming of for years, I did learn a whole lot from Anshul and his family. I saw a destitute India, progressive families, and very modern, westernized youngsters. I learned that mosquitoes love to attack my face while I’m asleep, that real Indian food is all heavy, and that mosquitoes can easily succeed at attacking my face while I’m asleep. I was sad to leave my friend, but excited for my next adventure (as well as, you know, moving to a very new place for the next 6 months). So out I flew the next morning, on a plane bound for Mumbai and with a face full of red bites. Oh of course there are tons of stories to tell from Delhi alone, but I’ll tell those to you in person if you ask.

After that was a flight to Mumbai, a ride through some beautiful, cobblestone-y, old-fashioned streets of the city, 6 hours spent exploring, eating, and getting stared at (along with hair touching and laughing—not necessarily related) in the center of town, and the sketchiest ride on the local train where you actually hang out the doors and windows. I’m not even kidding you. Yeah, judging from the stares over there, I didn’t get the impression that a whole lot of foreigners have ridden that route, but I could certainly be wrong.

Following that was 15 hours spent on a train with many, many peoplewhohadn’trecentlyshowered and two South Africans who were quite the travelers. People slept under my seat-bed,I slept on a plastic bag pillow filled with clothing, and other guys lined every single inch of space on the ground, just like in Vietnam. Once again my train car was the one with members of the Indian army riding on board, so there was never a dull moment. I couldn’t have looked very pretty upon disembarking, but what do you expect? My organization picked me up from the train station, brought me to move into my new apartment on the edge of the city, and forced me to eat another lunch. I came back to shower, was forced to shop for Indian clothing to “fit in better,” and slept. So here begins my life for the next…as long as I can take it. It’s going to be a trip, that much I’ll say.

As soon as I get more time, I’ll start some real updates about my new home and work life. For now here are some photos for your viewing delight. Enjoy!

Photos: 1-A poetic India. 2-Pav bhaji (and it’s WAY better in Delhi than in Hubli). 3-Mooli parathas and more. 4-Aloo tikki–amazing! Mint chutney, tamarind sauce, yogurt, pomegranate seeds, potato cakes, and wafers…mmm. 5-Mumbai at night. 6-… 7-Feet after a day in Mumbai. 8-Morning in the country. 9-A favorite. 10-The sunrise on my train. Are you eeping kidding me? With the boy in shadow, a blazing sun rising, and train smoke, I felt I was on a movie set. This made getting up at 6am and hanging out of the train door completely worth it. 11-Farms. 12-My seatmate wanted a photo of himself. 13-My other seatmate then motioned that HE wanted a photo of himself. 14-Morning commute. Note all the women. 15-Really, India? I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore…

Cows. Crowds. Creepy men. Many people are under the impression that there’s little more to India that those three things. Frankly, I think that’s absolutely correct. No, no, I’m just kidding. Plenty of people here also entertain themselves by going to the bathroom in the middle of the street.

Yes, I’ve arrived in India. As most of you know by now, I got the call that I’d received a communications fellowship with a foundation for social entrepreneurship in southern India. This sounds much fancier than it actually is, but what it meant is that in less than three weeks, I went from job hunting to moving halfway across the world for a while. I’ve wanted to live and work in India for a while now, so this came at a great time. It’s unclear what work I’ll actually be doing, but I’m sure it’ll be frustrating, rewarding, exciting, and boring all at the same time. I’ll be living in Hubli, a small town of just 1 million people.

But hey, I’m living it up in India! I’ve got to say that with everything I’ve seen in photos, in addition to my experience in similarly crowded third-world countries, India is pretty much exactly what I expected. Beautiful colors, delicious food, spicy smells, and people who go out of their way to help. These said people may or may not ask if you’d mind getting involved in an arranged marriage with their son, but that’s not important right now. The most surprising thing about India, actually, has been the widespread use of printed English. While this doesn’t mean people can necessarily speak the language, it does make getting around, ordering food, and doing everything else a whole lot easier.

Back to the part about getting to India in less than three weeks. Heck, there’s nothing like having a good story to tell before the story has even begun. If you thought being me and getting a single tourist visa in just 2 ½ weeks might be challenging, you’re right. So imagine that the soonest available appointment with the NY consulate’s outsourcing company (yes, they even outsource themselves) is just a week before your flight? You’d be having nightmares too. So imagine my concern when I finally turned in my papers, only to be told that the tidbits I’d written in the visa’s extensive “What will you be doing there?” and “What is your profession?” sections led them to believe I was a journalist. I’d be denied, most likely, if I submitted the form as it was. “So I’ll be rejected as it is now?” “I can’t tell you that. But it looks like it wouldn’t go through.” “Okay, so what should I change?” “Ma’am, I can’t tell you what to change.” “What should I not include?” “I wouldn’t include the writing or photography, but I can’t tell you that.” “Uhhhhh…”

I hurried to fill out a whole new set of forms there, as I knew I had a shot clinic upstate I had to get to, and there was only one train left before I’d miss everything. I filled out an entirely new form, which is essentially just like getting back-to-back proctology exams, and tried to sound as generic as possible. I got back in line to pay more fees, and then got approved to stand in an even larger line. After waiting and waiting, I was told I could come the next day to pick it up, or perhaps Wednesday. Because I was upstate that week packing, my older brother, Timothy, went Tuesday. It wasn’t ready. On Wednesday, I saw online that they’d JUST turned it in to the consulate. Wednesday night, still no word, and no progress. Thursday, I wake up to two phone messages from a guy at the visa HQ, both saying my visa was denied. I called, nearly in tears, and was transferred from person to person, all denying the existence of the person who originally called me. Turns out the mystery fellow was actually saying my credit card was denied—another impossibility since a.) the charge was online, b.) four (4) employees checked that fact and said the payment was fine, and c.) I’ve never had a problem with my card. So that was a fun start. Multiple calls and hours were spent trying to find out if my visa was still en route to or from the consulate, and I was assured it was multiple times. Except that Thursday night, I also got a call from the visa outsourcing office saying my card didn’t go through. Was I a part of some giant scam? After much deliberation, I had to give a new card number to them, which they said would go through. My forms would be submitted in the morning. I had, quite literally, less than 8 hours to know if I would be able to go to India or not. No, I didn’t really sleep, because that night, the question arose: Had they canceled the other application? If not, which application had my passport? Would they know which to submit? Could a company be this incompetent?

The next Friday morning (the last possible day I could possibly get it, mind you, since my flight was scheduled for Monday morning at 9AM), after hours on hold and multiple calls to multiple offices, I was told everything was fine under both applications. Well, sir, did you realize that I’m just one person? That I should have only one application number? Ohhhhh that took a lot of brain power to figure out something wasn’t right, didn’t it? I was online tracking both passport applications numbers, and knew that by 4:30 (pickup time), I’d finally have an answer. Not so fast, though. I was told repeatedly that they’d have more info once I called back, but that never happened. Finally, an employee said it might come back in time. I asked him to, well, clarify that answer. He said he’d speak to his supervisor, then said that no, there was no chance it was going to come back in time. At this point I calmly yelled at him, telling him that his company screwed up, and demanding to speak with his supervisor. She looked through my file and said she’d get an actually answer from the consulate, and would send a guy to look for my passport. Was I praying at this point? Absolutely.

She called about 15 minutes later and said that my passport would be ready tonight if whoever had the receipt (Timothy) got there at 5:45, right before closing. Did I hear her right? They found it? She said yes, and gave me the confirmation code. It was the wrong one. She clarified it and said they would have the right one too. How kind.

That night, Timothy waited for my visa for 4 hours. At 9:45PM, he was the last one in the office, wondering how he a.) hadn’t killed himself, and b.) a company could manage to be so useless. He was the last person in line at the last minute, the last hour, and the last second possible on what the company told him was “the worst day we’ve ever had.” At 9:48PM I got his call (having not heard from him for an eternity), saying they’d looked up my alternate application number and had finally found it, approved. He was yelling, I was incredulous, my little brother was yelling, my mother was crying, and my dad was obliviously eating dinner. It was as if I had won the lottery. Couldn’t have cut it much closer than that, really. It’s not possible.

I started packed and left in about 36 hours. And now I’m here, thank the Lord. And Timothy. I’m pretty sure he won’t be visiting me in India after that. What a bro, right?

After flying up and over the north pole (no kidding), over Greenland, Russia, and China, I had a layover in Hong Kong and arrived in New Delhi. Great times, great times. But that’s for the next post, y’all! I’m just happy to be here, and really, am still getting over the traumatic times brought to you by my [your choice of expletives] NYC visa company.

Enjoy a few photos of Delhi, Punjab, and Santa Clause’s headquarters. Cheers!

Photos:

1-This is India. 2-Flying over Greenland! 3-Russia. 4-Like the Smoky Mountains, but not…because it’s China. 5-Breakfast in Delhi! 6-Playing on a seesaw with my India pals. Don’t ask why. 7-Motorbike ride to the Metro. 8-Backyard trail, where the activity never ends. 9-Typical (and awesome). 10-Love it. Oh, India.

Hello all,

I wanted you to know I made it to India last night, safe and sound. Today my new Indian friend and I ate for about 8 hours straight. I’m not sure how this will end, but as of now I feel okay, if you get my drift. Full update to come soon, but for now, I must get some sleep. Tomorrow I will catch a flight or train from here in Delhi down south. While the route is still uncertain, based on the events of just today, I’m sure there will be no shortage of interesting stories. Until then, over and out.