(From January 31)
Hi, friends.
First of all apologies for the lack of GIFs. I had so many that I planned on inputting, but the WiFi is SO unstable that I literally can't even google things. SO, hope you enjoy my super boring blog post.
After a long sleep, multiple cups of coffee, and some music
therapy, I’m feeling a little bit better about everything I’ve experienced. The
poverty and confusion and noise (not even just sound) of India have overwhelmed
every single person on my trip. It’s a lot to digest and explain and deal with,
but I’m definitely trying my hardest.
Saturday’s schedule was full of classes and guest lectures.
When we saw the full load for a weekend day, we were noooot happy. But due to our day-long delay in arriving in India, we had
to make up time. The lectures were interesting, and I continue to feel like the
academics of the program greatly supplement the experiences I have outside of
the classroom.
After class, we jumped in rickshaws to visit the Gandhi
Ashram, a museum commemorating the commune-style neighborhood established by
Mahatma Gandhi about a century ago. You may not know this, but Gandhi actually
began his peaceful agitating for Indian independence in Ahmedabad! The rich
history of the site and its somber yet vibrant atmosphere provided an
opportunity for inflection and introspection.
We gathered as a group on a grassy knoll on the museum land.
We took the opportunity to discuss the more “human” side of the neighborhood
visits we’d undertaken. It was, to say the least, quite moving. We had all
experienced really profound feelings and shared our emotions.
One of the most uncomfortable experiences, however, was the ogling
by the other museum patrons.
They were taking pictures and literally sitting in
our circle in an attempt to eavesdrop on our conversation. I’ve never before been such a spectacle. At Harvard, I’ve
definitely experienced similar ogling; tourists I don’t know take my picture
and grab me in attempts to maneuver me into their photos without even asking.
However, it’s never been this brazen or exploitative. I continuously tried to
hide my face (partly because I was crying, to be honest), just attempting to
maintain a semblance of privacy and sense of dignity, in a sense. We are
constantly stared at, prodded, shouted to, and photographed. I think it will
impossible to ever feel at home here when I am constantly reminded of my
inability to fit in.
Today has been really exciting—homestay move in day! Woo!
We had to be packed and ready by 11:30 AM, so naturally
Caitlin and I decided to sleep and nap until 10:45 before tackling the mess
that was our room. It had literally become a pigsty over the course of five
days, most likely due to the fact that Caitlin and I have already become way
too close over the past three weeks and have dropped all pretenses of
ladylike-ness, cleanliness, and primness.
I’m actually really going to miss Caitlin these next few
weeks—our homestays are about a half hour apart, so we will likely only see
each other during class and on the weekends. This study abroad program is
bizarre in that it creates deep friendships and bonds in short amounts of time.
We experience inexplicable moments together, isolated from family and friends;
we sleep and eat and study and talk together; we literally don’t get a break
from one another.
Yet, even though we experience almost the
same exact things and encounter similar difficulties, every individual absorbs
his or her surroundings in a completely different way. I guess it’s true that
the way you interpret other individuals and phenomena reveals much more about
you than it does about what you’re observing.
ANYWAYS. Sally and I moved in with our host mother, Shiman,
this afternoon. Shiman is a grandmother of five who (surprise!) speaks little
to no English.
Sally and I have been struggling in our attempts to
communicate with her about our food and our whereabouts, etc. etc. etc.
Shiman’s daughter, who lives quite close by, has been assisting in translating,
thank goodness. But as I noted in my last post—affection can be expressed
without the medium of language. Shiman so clearly adores and is proud of her
beautiful four daughters, and it’s been fun to connect with her over that
source of love that she holds.
Her apartment has no WiFi, so Sally and I have attempted to
find novel ways to amuse ourselves. Sally has begun a ~fun~ video game, while
I’ve taken a nap and stared at the fan.
We are literally gonna finish, like, 10 books a piece over
the next eighteen days.
Sally and I explored our neighborhood a tad until the
constant staring and occasional picture pushed us back inside. We’re currently
waiting for what smells like a delicious dinner—we’ve
heard Shiman is the best cook around—while watching a Turkish soap opera. I
have a feeling “Feriha” is about to become my new “Bachelor.”
Here’s to hoping that I can keep up with Ben and his
plethora of women even in a home with no WiFi—oh, and to the eventual end to my
constant state of panic. In that order.
By the way, thanks for hanging in there with me. Logging
into my blog and seeing that hundreds of people are reading about my
experiences and are thinking of me every once in a while keeps me sane, happy,
and tethered to home (all three of them—California, Boston, and Israel!).
All my love,
Aubs
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