and 60 years later, we are still fighting.

Today marks the sixtieth anniversary of Gandhi's assassination. His ashes, with Hindu custom, have been mixed with the ocean and sent to sea.

I remember spending months researching his life, his mission, and his death - one of those all-consuming semester projects that usurped the Spring of fourth grade. Back then, Gandhi was my hero, my guiding light. I read his letters, read accounts of his friends and family, craved reaching the same unattainable goals in my life; peace, fulfillment of humankind's potential, discussion over conflict. I quoted the man in my speech at graduation (as I am sure most people do in one speech or another).

It wasn't until I left for India that I really understood his work, or him for that matter. Americans exclaim that he brought together his country and his people - but India remains as divided as ever, as does the world. India loves it's Mahatma, but there is still a person behind the symbol that Gandhi has been forged into. Simply, a person - flawed, raw, and full of emotion. Ultimately, his humanity is what fascinates me the most. That the unattainable he was searching for was became a capability, and perhaps that my unattainable goals are not invincible either. I have felt the impact that I have created, experienced first hand what belief, what determination, and what the dedication of one person could achieve.

We are so much to so many, and there needs no national holiday, no day of remembrance to understand that. I wish the people who have changed my life could see what they have done. I wish my life could be laid out and show the changes in its course. I am beyond thankful - at this point I don't even know how to start.

maybe I should just start with you. Thank you.

if you like giggling...

...this is the video for you. It is fantastic, ridiculous, and oh man - very India.

If I ever told you the story of me dancing in a Punjabi music video after working all day (read 6am to 2am) in the Indian heat, driving around Punjab, nauseous from the amount of food and chai shoveled into my mouth from various relatives of my employer, without shower, make-up, brush, or sleep. Here is the proof that it did actually happen. Me and my Dutch roommate, Femke, dancing away. From what I hear, we are still on TV in Chandigarh.

Pakistan's "Best Hope" burns out...

Benazir Bhutto's death shocked me. It, understandably, has shocked the whole world.

Ever since India and experiencing first hand the intense effects of Pakistan on that part of the world, I have become more aware of the political situation there. I fell in love with Al-Jazeera as a portal to sometimes overlooked perspectives on political drama and the status of Islamic societies around the world (an issue very dear to my heart and education). Being so close to the Pakistani border, at one point even touching it, and understanding the role of extremists in their daily lives - the Lal Masjid siege still burns in my mind - it has challenged and changed my worldview. Also the understanding I have of their culture, an incredible mixture of Indian tradition with Islamic faith, has been a great insight to the situations that have plagued the country since July and to the assassination and response yesterday. I understand the significance of  her rapid, riotous, and simple burial. I know the significance of the simplicity of the coffin that now lies in her father's mausoleum. I know why Pakistan lies in turmoil and why riots of mourning rage the streets. I understand their claims that their nation's hope has been killed. They say that their cities are on fire.

I know why Pakistan's loss is, in many ways, the world's loss.

Pakistan is no perfect country. Ever since it's creation in 1947, it has been troubled by war with neighboring India, also a country facing severe problems from its birth even to today, and torn between its Southeast Asian heritage and Islamic society, but ever since the beginnings of America's war in Afghanistan, the country's troubles have been forced into the limelight - most notably their particular issues with extremism and terrorism. President Musharraf has been an ally and an impediment to the "war on terror" - not that I agree with or support the terms of that war or its driving forces - and his masked dissolution of the constitution and public destruction of the Pakistani judiciary in the second half of the year have all but destroyed the country. The reemergence  of Benazir Bhutto from her self-imposed exile this year had led people, namely Western foreign policy makers, to believe that should she be re-elected as Pakistan's Prime Minister, Musharraf would be reined in - that Pakistan would continue as a Western ally, and perhaps it would end the term of quasi-democratic Pakistan and give birth to a new nation run by the people. Bhutto, in her time, was not perfect either - her campaign as Prime Minister was filled with claims of corruption and conspiracy, (including international money-laundering, payoff of foreign officials, and more) her previous support of the Afghanistan's Taliban regime, (she has since condemned the Taliban for their dismissal of human rights and their insistence in supporting terrorism) and her lack of implementation during her term as Prime Minister. 

More recently, all of her efforts have been using her political party, the Pakistan People's Party, to democratize and modernize Pakistan, focusing on human rights and women's development issues to institute stability and democracy to the region - a plan which she hoped to spread throughout Western Asia. It was in this that the Western world named her Pakistan's "best hope" for change and peace in the future. She had been working with Musharraf for months, agreeing to shared power of the country (a move which Musharraf granted her amnesty from the pending international investigations for corruption) - and remained outspoken against extremism and terrorism in "her home, her country", even calling Musharraf to resign after he had established "emergency rule", a code of martial law and suspended civil liberties that nearly destroyed the country. She has been a consistent American ally, and so many have recognized the power Pakistan would have should she return to lead the country.

Her death, which she very clearly understood was a risk from the day she returned to Pakistan, has been cited by lesser news sources to her "recklessness" and "stubbornness" to assess the risks she took by appearing publicly. Others say it was the reluctance of Musharraf to provide her proper protection. Some claim it was America's stance on the Iraqi war (which is a stretch to say the least). Prominent terrorist groups have already claimed responsibility - which will lead to another step towards international foreign policy remaining focused on terrorist threats (which frustrates me because it continues the tradition that America has long since followed - treating the effects and not the cause of these acts, things like economy, education, improved cultural understanding, women's empowerment, and the success of civil liberties and adaptive foreign policy - a tradition that goes back to World War I, but that rant is for another time...)

I don't know what I believe. She was a woman of power from a political family that has been both revered, accused, and punished for their work to build a better Pakistan. She had been a tireless campaigner for human rights, civil liberties, and the progression of women. The world has lost an incredible force for understanding the Islamic woman and the Islamic world, both politically and culturally. It also lost someone who had arguably played both sides of the table in many ways. Her father had once claimed she would be more famous, more powerful, and more influential than India's "Iron Lady" - her life was working to achieve that mantle, and perhaps her assassination will accomplish that impact.

Her death will bring a change to Pakistan, though I am not sure if it is going to get better or worse. I guess only time will tell. 

namaste, hindustan.

tum to thehre pardesi
saath kya nibahogay
subha pehli gaadi say
ghar ko lot jaogay

foreigner, you don't belong here.
you cannot know love -
the train leaves tomorrow,
and you must go.

~~~

ten weeks ago, i stepped out into the blaring heat of New Delhi, not knowing what to expect, not knowing what to do.
tomorrow - i leave here and travel back home, not knowing what to expect, not knowing what to do.

i only know that India, AIESEC, and this summer has changed my life.

thanks.

tut tut, looks like rain

i just rode a bike through an Indian monsoon.
and am consequently dripping all over the floor of my office.
my coworkers are calling me crazy.

but it was the highlight of my day so far. for some weird reason, i am extraordinarily happy from one wet bike ride.

hokay-so.

it's been about a week since the last posting, and here is what's been going down.

1 - drinking. too much of it.
2 - several trips to blue ice. which influenced number 1.
3 - bought a gorgeous sari. just waiting on the tailor to finish it.
4 - traveled with my boss around rural Punjab. met over 35 family members. was stuffed full of food. even when i said no more - they kept feeding me.
5 - started Youth Week. volunteering in Khajeri Village, a small slum within a colony. it is one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.
6 - every student (all 300 of them) at Khajeri Government High School now knows my name. and yell for me every time they see me.
7 - starred (with my roommate/co-worker Femke from the Netherlands) in a Punjabi music video. we were the random white girls dancing in the video - the ones we always make fun of. so, club dancing. in front of (and encouraged) by my boss. awkward turtle times 10. we'll see when the video comes out.
8 - not enough sleeping. so tired.
9 - trying to get everything together so i can go home in one piece. easier said than done.
10 - simultaneously excited and sad to be heading home. in only five days.
11 - smoked shisha with awesome kids from around the world at mocha.
12 - ready for a day off.
13 - not ready to leave.
14 - trying to find presents for everyone. with hardly any money left.
15 - tik-he tik-he, five minutes. no problem.

so five days - and i will be heading stateside. america - you better be ready.

byebye baby, baby good-bye

this week has been one of goodbyes - and to two people in particular. two incredible people. i love you both.

the first - Mr. AIESEC. good luck in Turkey, and watch out for these two. miss you already kid.

the second - the sad break up of Team America. i love you girly, and see you stateside.
i think this is just the beginning of a lot of goodbyes. it's just twelve days left.

recovering addict.

one day, on a bus traveling from Haridwar to Chandigarh, a girl threw a book down on her lap and proclaimed "i'm free!"

that girl? me.
that book? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

thank you J.K. Rowling for ending my literary addiction. now if Warner Brothers could do the same...

if you didn't know - Rajhastan is a little sandy.

if you ever ride a camel, be prepared for your ass to hurt. a lot. (especially if you are the lucky one to fall off of the camel like me.)
it is an incredible experience, no doubt. you get to see a great deal of how desert life works, understand the isolation and, at times, ultimate peace of the desert - disturbed only by the bells of your camel, and my favorite part - getting to hang out with some of the coolest people from around the world you will ever meet.

we started out from Bikaner, the sixteen of us traveling twelve hours by dusty train from Chandigarh, not knowing what to expect. other than the sore ass of course. we traveled into the desert, listening to the wind, the bells on the camels, and each other. especially each other. this trip, though mostly painful, sandy, and exhausting, really showed me my favorite part of being on a traineeship - the people you meet. these people that share the frustration, the excitement, the discovery, the experience that a traineeship can offer you. you cannot imagine the bonding that occurs when you find yourselves halfway around the world - lost and trying to find your way. i know, for sure, that these people will be friends of mine for the rest of my life. already - we are planning trips to visit each other's countries, reunions in Las Vegas, and how much we will miss each other when this experience ends.

how can i define a traineeship and this experience i have had? i'm not sure, it is hard to define. it isn't about some heroic feat, some incredible change we are making in the world - it is about our lives running parallel for awhile, and getting to experience it with each other. it is not only about the stories we share while we sit around a fire in the desert, or on a train braving the winds blowing sand off the dunes, or about the changes we have found in ourselves, but also the stories we will keep forever when we leave this place and when we leave each other.
the traineeship is all about the story, the impact, and the experience. and in the years to come, i will look back on this summer in India, this summer i spent on the other side of the world, and know for sure that it will have been one of the greatest of my life, and that every person i have met has changed my life in some way.
and i think that this trip to the desert, on the back of a camel, was when i truly realized it.

Little Tibet

A weekend excursion to the Himalayas and a small village called McLeod Ganj led to some thinking. This village, the home to the Dalai Lama and the exiled Tibetan government, led to some thinking. Mostly about the meaning of home. I thought about the six weeks that have passed since I had left my home, willingly and enthusiastically setting out to impact the world. But knowing the history of Tibet, what would it be like if I could never go home? The life of a refugee is impossible to imagine or define - these people will never have a home. They may one day return to Lhasa, perhaps even claim the province as a sovereign nation, but it will never again be their home. Too much has happened, too much has changed their life for them to consider anything home.

And what about me? What if the changes that have occurred in me during the past six weeks, and there have been many, are too great? Will I be able to call Atlanta home after living and experiencing all that I have in India? Reading about other's experiences about reverse culture shock scares the hell out of me, and hearing about the changes that have occurred in others (to a negative effect) after being abroad scares me even more. Will everyone accept the new me? Will the new me even fit in my American life?
So in this beautiful, incredible, even spiritual place - all I could think about were the changes that India has carved into me. Sometimes I wish I could just shut my brain up from thinking so much, but I know that is what makes me human. I just wish I wasn't so damn vulnerable.

But McLeod Ganj is beautiful, and the people I experienced it with were incredible. A day of trekking and talking with Buddhist monks at the foot of a Himalayan waterfall, reciting mantras in the home of the Dalai Lama, and listening to him teach his disciples was followed by a night of shenanigans. We rented a house in a small village about five kilometers north of McLeod, called Dharamkot, and lived like kings for a night - drinking, dancing, and talking about everything and nothing until 3 in the morning. Followed by spooning, lots and lots of spooning. I woke to the clouds surrounding the house, the most delicious chai I have ever tasted, and a cool breeze with hints of Himalayan rain.


The trip back to Chandigarh was harder than you can imagine.

talk about Western influence...

So, on my traineeship.

I work with an NGO here in India developing the Indian education system by providing supplementary workshops in areas that we feel Indian children need more education on, most specifically to broaden their world view. (Hence the Project Worldview title.)

Currently, I am working in a really great school with two other trainees (Midori from Japan and Bijal from the US) on teaching cultural education to kids that are about 9-11. They are adorable, smart, and always excited to be there. It is really fun for me to see the impact that I have on them for the short time that I am here - and they are absolutely hilarious. For example...

We did a session where the kids, in groups, would create their own culture (complete with food, clothing, etc.) and present it in front of the class. They also had to make up a dance and a song. And then one group got up and sang "Smack that" by Akon and Eminem. I don't think I have laughed so hard in my life.

Stephen King, take notes.

The scariest moment of my life, Take one: I am sitting in a hospital bed on sheets that haven’t been changed in who knows how long, facing a wall where a cockroach is crawling and the white paint looks grayish-brown under all the dirt. I am screaming and kicking at a nurse who (with ungloved and probably unwashed hands), after dropping the syringe and needle on the disgusting, dirty floor, tries to inject some unidentified antibiotic into my side. All the while, I am burning with 105˚ fever, shaking uncontrollably, and crying from pain and fear. This is when I curse the Indian medical system and probably ended up kicking someone in the face.

The scariest moment of my life, Take two: The moments leading up to the aforementioned fearful point. I sat in my apartment, crying because I can’t control how badly I am shaking from fever. I’m not in a real bed because there are too many people in the house, so I am sleeping in the living room on something that resembles a stretcher. It’s maybe 3 or 4 in the morning, and I can’t breathe. Literally, absolutely unable to breathe. I don’t know what to do, who to call, or if I can even move. Luckily, my roommates were awakened by the sound of my crying and came to my aid. They called my boss, a cab, and took me to the hospital. It turned out I could not stand, walk, or even sit up on my own and was in danger of frying my brain with fever. It was absolutely terrifying.

Luckily, after five hours, I was allowed to leave the sketch hospital and return home. I was admitted later that night to a hospital run by the University of Massachusetts (which happened to be just down the street) for dehydration, but released after several hours. The next day I was readmitted, for good this time, or until I got better anyway. I spent two nights in the hospital, watching the fan spin when the TV didn’t work. I did however catch a Harry Potter marathon on HBO and a special about Pakistan on CNN (the only working English channels they had). I spent a lot of time on the phone with home, at points wishing to go head back to the good ol' US of A, but thankfully not giving in. If I had gone home, I would have regretted it the rest of my life, not to mention missing out on so much I have left to do here in India.

Finally released and better now – I headed home. Final verdict: a kidney infection and kidney stone. At the same time. My body plots against me again. Now, I’ve been healed, and ready for the next adventure.

J'awesome JNC.

a special thanks to AIESEC in Chandigarh for delivering a fantastic Bebot, being a good sport with silly drinking games, and making me feel like I belong. You all are terrific. AIESEC in India, incredible.

i miss you.

Preparing a presentation for AIESEC Chandigarh, I looked up our LC's specialty. And realized something - how much I miss you all.


7 weeks, and counting. I will be home soon, and I expect dancing.

if it ain't this, it's that.

the wheels are spinning. two steps forward is three steps back. i'm digging to climb out of the hole. full speed at a brick wall. treading waist deep water. running forward by jogging backwards. [insert more clichés for futility here].


oh well, this is India.

in the words of the Shining Beacon himself.

If I try to be like him, who will be like me?

--Santiago, The Alchemist

I read this quote this morning, and all I could think of was someone telling me - "be authentic". I don't know why it struck me at this moment, right now, and so hard - but it did. And I think I am beginning to understand what that means.

the Himalayas.

Weekend nomading ends in Shimla - a Himalayan town five hours north of Chandigarh by a nauseating, swerving, crowded bus. It was beautiful and relaxing - and a perfect example of India's diversity.

Also home to the Jakhu Monkey Temple, a shrine for Hanuman - the monkey god who carried the mountain to save Rama's wife, Sita. It made me want to read the Ramayana.


I think the best feeling about Shimla, however, was how relaxed I was. Nothing mattered except sitting and watching the sun move over the Himalayas. Forget the nauseating bus ride, the inability to sleep while sharing a bed with three other girls, waking up cold for the first time in months, and the soreness of climbing through the mountain town.

it was a place out of a dream,
and it makes kind of wish I hadn't woken up.

Amritsar, Attari, and a change of mind.

My company demands that I have a "cultural experience" and travel throughout India. I say ok, I can do that. This weekend? Attari and Amritsar.

Attari

A short stop in Amritsar to deposit our things at the beautiful Golden Temple, we were back in the taxi to drive to Attari, a small village on the border of Punjab and Pakistan and the home of the infamous, even comical, Closing of the Border Ceremony. A ritual that has been practiced since the creation of the border in the 40's, this ceremony draws thousands to celebrate it. So, packed in with thousands of Indians in the 120 degree sunset, we watched guards goosestep towards the gate to taunt the Pakistani guards on the other side, shaking their hands and heads and cheering about the greatness of India. Hindustan - Jindabad! Pakistanis stand cheering on their side of the gate, waving the green crescent over the crowd. For an hour, this happens. It is difficult to explain its purpose or point - but there is such a great emotional aspect to this seemingly superfluous ceremony. Nothing is gained or lost in this showing of pride, but it is such a fantastic and surreal exhibition of Indian nationalism that is almost impossible to understand.

Another discovery in Attari was the surreal aspect of being a foreigner in India. The novelty of white skin and red hair is something that you don’t realize until you have people asking to touch them, to photograph them, or to ask if it is real. People snuck around with camera phones to steal photographs of me my white travel companions. Women around us asked for “snaps” (the Indian term for photographs) – and two girls stole pictures of me for the duration of the ceremony (so I stole pictures of them too). My Indian friend called us “sillahbrahtas” while laughing and taking pictures. It is unbelievable.

Amritsar

Dirty, sweaty, and exhausted – we traveled back to Amritsar. After quickly showering (ie. Bucket of cold water) – we went to the community kitchen for dinner.

A note on the Sikhs: everything about their beliefs is communal. Their religion promotes hospitality, charity, education, and selflessness. Known for their skills as warriors, the Sikhs consistently put others before themselves, giving lives, money, and time to their cause. And this, unlike some Christian practices I have experienced, is not limited to those within their religion. I was graciously accepted, given food and a place to stay, and encouraged to take pictures to “show the beauty of their religion and temple”. So, dinner was fittingly served in a large room to all who asked for it. Everyone receives a plate, a bowl, and a spoon and sits on the floor – a practice started by a Guru who refused to sit above his disciples. Everyone is served as much food and water as they can eat, cooked and served by volunteers to the temple and traveling pilgrims.
We then walked into the temple complex, a large square filled in the center with a deep pond, each of the four sides a marble walkway filled with pilgrims, either praying with their foreheads bowed to the ground or preparing to sleep in the presence of their holiest site. In the center of the pond lies the Golden Temple, and it is incredibly beautiful.
When you walk inside it, almost everything incorporates some kind of prayer in it, the wallpaper, the doorframes, the stairs, the chandelier. The Devangari is wearing away in some spots where people rub their fingers over it to complete the prayer.
We entered the temple at night, right as the Guru Granth Sahib (the holy book of Sikhism and its eleventh Guru) was being closed. It is an incredible ceremony: as the final prayer is sung, men compete to carry it on their heads to a solid gold palanquin, waving oxtail fans above it. Women reach to touch it and everyone attempts to support the palanquin in some way as it is taken to its nightly resting place. Then pilgrims compete to clean the temple, sweeping and polishing the gold.
We returned from there to the room where we were staying, and slept for the few hours between then and 4:30 in the morning to catch the sunrise hitting the gold of the temple. We awoke and sipped chai as the singers called the Sikhs to morning prayer. And walking through the trough of water to clean your feet and enter the temple, it is a breath taking sight. The first rays are just hitting the top of the temple, and it begins to glow, and the first prayer is so beautiful – it was one of those rare moments you experience. Something so special and secret that you want capture it in some way, but in no way is a feeling like that possible to write in words or take in photographs. It made me think of the sunset in Morocco over the Atlantic, listening to the salah echoing from the mosque behind me, and watching women mourn in Rome’s cobblestone streets, arms raised and tears streaming, during Pope John Paul II’s funeral. Moments that seem impossible and unreal, but are happening around you and in some small way, changing you.
We sat for maybe three hours, just watching the Sikhs. Something interesting that they do is bathe in the pond (which is filled with huge, brightly colored fish), a form of holy water cleansing. And, like any religion, the Sikhs preserve important artifacts including the body of a Guru, their weapons that fought for the freedom of Sikhism, and, most interestingly, trees that important Sikhs prayed under. One tree is especially important, it is said that the Guru that decided to build the Golden Temple bathed there during his epiphany, and those who bathe there now are granted enlightenment and clarity in their paths in life.
There is also a museum of paintings and photographs of important moments in Sikh history, from its creation to the present, including depictions of their persecution by Muslims (including dismembering children and stringing their limbs into necklaces to hang around their parents’ necks), the destruction and massacre of Operation Blue Star in 1984 by Indira Gandhi’s troops, and Sikhs who had roles in creating an independent India.
The temple was an incredible and unique experience. I even had a woman ask me to bless her little girl with beauty. Another little girl came up and counted my toes, and when I thought this was strange I looked at hers - she had six on each foot.
But we traveled onward, visiting the Jallianwala Bagh garden, the home of the 1919 massacre in which British troops opened fire on peaceful protesters and instigated Indian unity towards independence. The garden is walled, and there was no escape. Bullet holes are preserved, as well as the well that hundreds of Indians threw themselves down in order to escape. It is strange to see the well, and as I was looking into it, it had the air of a crypt or open grave. It was interesting to experience a city that has such a bloody past and is so influential in the shaping of modern India. Midori (my Japanese coworker and roommate) said she was afraid to go to sleep that night because she thought she would have nightmares about Amritsar.
Onto something happier, we then visited Jinder’s (another roommate and coworker, but from India) cousin’s family. They fed us a ridiculous amount of food and talked about why we came to India and what we were looking for here. When Indians travel, they said, they are always searching for something – whether it is spiritual, economic, or to visit family. They were confused why I would leave the United States, a place where they said that any Indian would go in a minute if given the chance, to come to a place like India, working for very little. I couldn’t explain it in terms they could really understand, I’m still working out how to explain it in terms that I understand. There was a little girl there that wanted to know all about America, and told me that it was her dream to go there. She even showed me her coin collection of two quarters (one of which was made into a ring by welding it onto a ring of copper wire) and a penny. I gave her a dollar and told her to visit me in America. It was so amazing to listen to them – they are incredible people and have definitely shaped my perception of culture and hospitality in India.

Then, its back home. And it’s funny that I feel at home here – but I do.

and then the rain came down...

toje deka to ye jana sanam
pyal hota he divana sanam
ab jahan se kahan jae ham
teri bahon me mar jae ham

when I first saw you, I knew love
the moment we met I loved you
my love, what would i do without you?
I would forever lie in your arms

...

The air was getting thicker with clouds and the pending monsoon. We sat on the porch of our apartment watching the lightning color the sky orange and the winds shake the mango trees on our street, listening to each other sing songs from our homelands. and learning songs and cultures from each other.

and that is when the rain began to fall. it was a perfect moment. it was everything that i am beginning to love about India.

full circle.

it was just over a year ago that I stood in front of hundreds to give a speech, nearly crying and fainting, nervous beyond anything, full of stage fright, devoid of confidence, and barely able to stand without my knees shaking.

this morning - I gave a speech to about 50 kids about the importance of public speaking and its role in personal and professional development. I spoke clearly, loudly, with confidence and conviction.


talk about a full circle of change. I am a different person today. and I blame AIESEC.

YouVA. take 1.

So I have finally figured out what to work on during my time in India, time that is moving faster than I thought it would be. I arrived a little more than a week ago, coming to work at an NGO, EduCARE, and completely lost on where to start and what to do. And now - I think I have a plan.

Besides working on cultural education and HIV/AIDS awareness the Project Worldview, I will be working on developing a youth conference for EduCARE called YouVA Week. Youva, in Hindi, means youth - and stands for Youth for Volunteer Action in coordination with the UN's International Youth Day. Basically it is a week long program for 15-24 year olds in Chandigarh to learn about issues that impact their community, like the 20 different slums in the city, the prevalence of HIV-positive citizens, and the pollution of its water source by a city's worth of trash, and then actually act on them. Working with the schools, the NGOs of Chandigarh, and EduCARE - it will be a chance for the people of Chandigarh to break the dichotomy of wealthy and impoverished and and realize these issues influence everyone in India, and everyone in the world, despite income or rank.
I'm excited - its something to work on with a goal and a tangible result. Something I have been needing for quite some time. (any ideas to help me - let me know!)

ok, getting down from the proverbial soap box...

went and hung out last night with a bunch of Canadians, a German, a Dutch, and one other American around some poker, pizza (Indian Pizza Hut is a little strange...like the fact that they use pizza cheese and paneer), mango juice, and Kingfisher. It was really interesting and fun. Partly because we got to hang out in the air-conditioned house of the Canadian Embassy, but also because these other trainees are so hilarious and fun to be with. And of course the fact that I won, always a good sign. And apparently, they didn't know my name or where I was working until last night, so they had been calling me Atlanta for a few weeks. The name, for some reason, has stuck. Tonight I get to go to see Pirates of the Caribbean 3 with them at some theater in Chandigarh. And it's Johnny Depp, I mean, come on. It will be fun, and a chance to meet more of the trainees that live in Sector 21.

they got their Eye on you.

if you walk down the street in India, people stare at you.
if you are a white woman walking down the street in India, people stop and stare at you.
if you are a white woman with red hair walking down the street in India, people will stop their motorcycles in the middle of traffic, take off their helmet, and stare at you as long as you are in sight.

constant contradictions.

So something I have discovered about India, beyond the obvious other things.
It is a place of huge contradictions.

I was riding a bus back from Delhi (a non-air conditioned bus at that, talk about grossly and disgustingly hot, dirty, sweatiness...) and was watching the landscape roll by. One of the first things evident in India, beyond heat and noise, is the incredible amount of poverty. About 23% of the population of India lives below the poverty line, at about 100 Rupees a day (around $2.15). And believe me - Rs. 100 does not go very far here - clean water costs Rs. 15 a liter and a half kilo of rice is about Rs. 70. It is difficult to imagine a meal for an entire family - just one meal - on that budget. And it isn't hidden or subtle - a taxi from the Delhi airport passes through blocks filled with corrugated metal houses covered in colorful tarps that are stolen from stores and construction sites.
This bus ride was through some small villages and towns, many with crumbling brick buildings or actual thatched huts - and there was one village that we passed that was about the size of maybe half a football field, falling apart, and covered with mud and filled with people sleeping in the shade of a tarp to keep out of the blistering sun. Above the main market (a mere wooden table with a tarp and a few chairs filled with emaciated men and women) was a sign for an investment company, a non-Indian company, that showed a women being driven in a luxury car and looking at skyscrapers in the distance. It was captioned - "Building a New India".
Another, a few kilometers up the road, with no visible town or village in sight, a man was herding cows under a sign advertising the announcement of a brand new mall and multiplex to be developed on the site. The man had to avoid the deep holes and concrete pillars that were already crumbling, the site began years ago and has not progressed.
Alcohol advertisements are built on huge signs next to Sikh temples, and half dressed women sell makeup and perfume while the women below walk with their heads and faces covered by veils.
It is difficult to see these attempts or symbols of Indian progress - especially that of the Indian elite in contrast against the impoverished. It seems almost as if India wants to prove its arrival into the world market as a major contender, where in reality it is only the wealthy that progress. There is so much work to be done here. So much that needs to change in order to move forward.
Maybe, just maybe, I can work to make a difference here. It breaks my heart to think that I might not have an effect in my 10 weeks here - I will try everything I can to.

even dancing feels different

So it has been 6 days in India.

it is still incredible. there are some things that are still so strange to me.

AIESEC in India is one of them. There is such a different mentality here than in the States.
Background to how I found this out: I went to a conference in Delhi this past weekend, kind of last minute in fact. (And by last minute I mean they called at 11pm on Friday for us to leave at 6am on Saturday.) It was LCCON for AIESEC Delhi University (@DU), their local conference/congress that takes place twice a year. (Similar to ROKs except only with one LC). It was in a Public School Complex in an outskirts village in Delhi, and by village I mean thatch and mud huts, cows and buffalo everywhere, women in full veils, naked children playing in a stream village. The conference was neither organized nor motivated, no one wanted to be there and none of the issues they discussed in their Learning Networks discussions were irrelevant, and even worse, not up to date. Then there was, like at any @ conference, dancing. And if you know me - I love the dancing. But they were different - even NumaNuma and Cotton Eye Joe. I wasn't granted the chance to teach them Bebot.
The one saving grace of this conference was the presence of DU's trainees - few of which were @ers, but all had more @ spirit than most of the @ers from Delhi. There was a tangible divide - @ers would not talk to the trainees, no matter how hard we tried. Complaints were not answered, and any attempt to learn about Indian culture was, for lack of a better word, thwarted. Many of the trainees were meeting the others for the first time, and did not know that there were other trainees in the area for them to either hang out with or travel with. The point of the conference was to allow more interaction between the LC and their trainees, but failed miserably in the attempt.
The closing dinner was what really killed it - we sat through nearly 2 hours of @ers toasting themselves on their great achievements while most of the weekend had only brought out their faults. Imagine, being a trainee in a completely unique and foreign land, and feeling that the people who brought you there were not interested in your safety or well being but solely that you had increased their exchange numbers, and then listening to them gloat about the advances and superiority of their LC and its members. All of the trainees left the dinner because of their frustration, and then proceeded to attend a fantastic trainee party, complete with Spongebob mascot. I had a lot of amazing conversations with people from around the world- the Ivory Coast, Zimbabwe, Bulgaria, Sweden, UK, Canada (one of whom knew the @GT kids that went to CNLDC!!), Poland, and the Netherlands. I was listening to them talk about their experiences, advice on where to travel, and their plans for the rest of their respective traineeships (most of which were at least 5 months, some as long as 18 months!). That made me feel so much better - at that point I was still unsure if I could last 10 weeks - I was homesick and freaked out and absolutely exhausted, but now. I think I can face it.
All in all, an eye-opening weekend. I hope that I will not face the same challenges in Chandigarh, although I am sure I won't to the extent that the DU trainees have. I start my CEED on Tuesday - and I have so many ideas on how to get involved with the LC to improve them and myself. Being with another LC makes me miss my LC even more - they are like a second family, and it's the longest I have been in quite some time not seeing them. I know that I can become a better @er through this, I just have to figure out how.

Travel News: Going to Amritsar and Attari this weekend, and I couldn't be more excited! It is going to be beautiful. We are going to the Golden Temple and to see the Closing of the Border Ceremony. There will be pictures soon, and more stories. If you ever travel - get a Lonely Planet Guidebook (even the locals use them here), it will be the best money you ever spent on a trip.

first task.

find out what you want to do in India.

oh my - easier said than done...

...

I have been sitting at work for about 3 or 4 hours now. on facebook/nomadlife/email. i don't know what to do - i need to figure out what i want to work on, where i want to visit while i am here...decisions i am no good at making. i know i definitely want to work with HIV/AIDS in some way, but what else i am not sure. i want to see Agra, the Himalayas, and Amritsar for sure - but there is so much to see here that i don't know if that is enough, or what else to do. i definitely need to sit and read my India book. and get an adapter for my Lappy - none of the ones I have work :( I also need a phone card to call Mohmoh, I know he is impatient to see me. and he will be influential in figuring out where to go.
other news - I am going to a conference over the weekend - in Delhi. Now Delhi scares me to death, it's so loud, colorful, and crazy - and I kind of like that - it feels like I am being adventurous, but I know I am just telling myself that so I don't feel bad for being the biggest scaredy-cat i know. i am excited because it is a conference for trainees, so that should be fun. i need to brush up on my Bebot skills.

i miss home already and that scares me. maybe i am not the big bad international traveler i thought i was. or maybe this is normal.

i'm here.

here. at last.
after about 20 hours on the plane in total, 8 hours of waiting at the airport for the trains to open, 5 hours of driving to Chandigarh, and one crazy night - i am here.

it is incredible - i don't know where to start or what to do. but i am here, and i guess that is the first step.

byebye baby, baby good-bye

and I'm off.
It's an incredible feeling that I am finally heading out. I am still in shock. I am finally going to be working toward the Dream.

well, abracadabra homes.
see you on the other side of the world...