Cultural Weekend and a Sobering Monday

Gosh, have I truly only been here in Brazil for a week? It feels like forever in the best possible way. I've enjoyed numerous encounters with the culture of this city; I've savored the food and the people; I've learned about the history, the art, and the problems of the city; and I've come to appreciate the beautiful, compassionate, lively, whole-heartedly wonderful spirit of Paulistas.

Saturday night, Samantha and I met five other friends for a soccer game!! Attend a soccer game in Brazil... What an experience to check off the bucket list. We cheered for the Corinthians, a Sao Paulo-based team, as they played against someone else (don't remember their name) with the colors red and green. In a hilarious and slightly frightening intro to the craziness that is Brazilian futbol, an armed and armoured cop (of which there were plenty at the game) warned Sally that she could not sit on the Corinthians side. This was because her dress was almost sort of dark forest green and would potentially get her beat up--even though she was literally wearing a Corinthians flag as a cape. Upon showing the cop her flag, he very hesitantly gave her the go-ahead.

what did we get ourselves into

Despite the slightly nerve-wracking beginning to our futbol experience, it was literally one of theeee most fun games to which I've ever been!!!

Vai Corinthians!!!

potentially spent more time looking at the camera than at the field

I couldn't really figure out which team I was supposed to cheer for, so at every moment of potential scoring, I had to constantly inquire,

because I REALLY didn't want to get beaten up.

Our team ended up winning two minutes into overtime 1-0, which was SO cool. Our ride on the metro home was impressively smooth, easy, and efficient. I fell in love with another part of Brazil on that fantastic subway. That's how dorky/nerdy my affection for this country is.

me to Brazil

Sam and I woke up super late on Sunday, relaxed and content. Sally met up with us to walk to a cool museum called the Museum of Image and Sound. It was about thirty minutes away, and we walked through a beautiful neighborhood on a beautiful day. It was lovely.

me frolicking down the street

The museum ended up having limited opportunities for non-Portuguese speakers, but Sam and I did well enough with our rudimentary Spanish to understand some of the exhibits' descriptions. We wandered into a random outdoor market next door to admire some stunning craftsmanship, including turquoise jewelry, azul vases, and wildly revolting seats made of actual fur and hooves (eep). We then decided to walk about a half hour more to a really sick street art location, but by this point I thought I was dying of hunger, so my hangry walk was more like--

A heaping cone of gelato cheered me right up, though. 

We strolled through this cemetery with graves dating back to birth-dates of 1885, which fascinated me. Cemeteries really intrigue me, and something about examining the names and years on graves saddens me (because death) and gives hope to me (because there is power and compassion in sparing a few moments to recognize another's life, even if he or she has died long ago). 

From the cemetery, in which we had to deftly avoid embracing couples, we arrived at Beco do Batman, an incredible alleyway full of graffiti.

black and white

color!!!

my favorite piece of artwork in the alley

Sally, Sam, and I really enjoyed gazing at the gorgeous works and taking tons of pictures.

(It's getting late, and I'm getting excited, so I'm gonna speed this up)

From the alley, Sally and I took a taxi to Angelica's Grill, an all-you-can-eat churrascaria, which is like a barbecue place. Have you ever seen Bridesmaids?

 

This scene takes place at a churrascaria. LUCKILY, our night did not end in--

But we did stuff ourselves with tons of incredible meats and salads and cheese. Our excitement every time that a new meat arrived at our table--

literally

Cracked up our servers, and they legit began to mock us every time they passed our table. They'd say "oh my god!!!" and "yay!!!!" in super exaggerated American accents in a really high, girly voice.

It was too funny to be angry; plus, we were, like, really really excited.

Sally returned to my house and we booked the sickest spring break EVER. Five days at one of the best beach locations in the world/one of the Wonders of the World, then two and a half days at one of the Natural Wonders of the World, all for under $500. I mean like yeah, sounds good to me.

It legit took two hours to book this sh*t though, because the airline website was a fiasco.

However, after numerous attempts of trying to convince a computer system that I am not in fact Brazilian and that yes I do have a valid zipcode and a few moments of--

I  booked tickets for myself, Sally, and Jenn. WAHOO.

This morning was Monday morning, which, even in South America, is

BUT the prospect of Neighborhood Day definitely brightened the idea of Monday. I ended up being sorted into a group with tons of my favorite people and we visited the neighborhood of Bom Retiro, a site in Sao Paulo known for its immigration, culture, and its identity as a cracolandia--or literally, a "land of crack."

Yes, crack. Like, crack cocaine.

We were treated to the delightful views of people literally smoking crack cocaine in broad daylight, only feet away from armed police officers. I have never before in my life been in a place or situation like that. It was shocking and a little scary and really uncomfortable. But, it's important to see these things, to get a glimpse of what daily life can look like for some people, to understand the disastrous problems and addictions rotting out society. Perhaps the most alarming sight was the high school literally around the corner from the drug-trafficking site. It actually sickened me to hear from our guide that "the first two times" trying crack cocaine in school bathrooms are free--they hook young children and ruin their lives. Well, assist in ruining their lives--I'm not going to disregard personal agency in this case. But still. Breathtaking in a bad way.

Towards evening, as we prepared to head back home, a few group members decided they wanted to speak to some policemen in cracolandia about the cops' inactivity and hands-off approach. Our guide heavily warned against it, saying she thought it was an extremely terrible idea for us to return to the area.

My thought process: hmmm... a native warning us against chatting with potentially corrupt policemen in an area riddled with drug addicts at dark in a country in which I do not speak the language nor understand cultural norms nor have internet.

Their thought process: it'll be fine!!!!

So, as the majority of the group made plans to venture back into crack land, I pulled a--

and took a subway back home. They returned safely but I remain happy with my safe, boring, vanilla decision.

Tonight at dinner, I downed a few cups of coffee, anticipating a long night of reading class assignments and writing this blog. I sat in bed, multi-tasking (aka watching Fuller House and Eat, Pray, Love, surfing Buzzfeed, chatting with Sam, and writing a thing or two down in my notebook), and, for the first time on this program, I felt so... college. Hyped on coffee after 9 PM, discussing current events and our days with a roommate, finishing classwork, unwinding to some Netflix... It felt familiar, It felt comfortable. It felt like home. And, after months of feeling alien and lonely and overwhelmed and upset, "home" (even if it's about twenty degrees warmer with slightly more chance of contracting a deadly mosquito-born disease) feels nice. It feels good.

I am honestly happier than I've been in the past two months--the weather, the excitement of the city, my deepening friendships, my ability to contact my family, my anticipation for the dozens of fun activities coming up.... They are all invigorating and refreshing and rejuvenating me. I feel like a new and improved Aubs. God, I am so happy.

Thankful beyond words,
Aubrey

Getting to Know the City

What a wonderfully wild whirlwind of three days. I will probably have to make this pretty short, because I'll be heading out very soon for a futbol game, wahoo!!!

Thursday involved a deliciously exhausting jog (in which we didn't get lost ONCE) and a long day of classes (about six hours). HOWEVER, the end of the day was actually super fun--our advisor surprised us with a Brazilian dance lesson with two amazing professional dancers!

We learned Samba, which I pretended I was really good at--

what I thought I looked like on left, what I really looked like on right

We also learned this fab dance that one of my peers called "Soulja Boy on crack," a rather apt description. It's this choreographed dance to a super popular song that is a summer fad (it's summer in Brazil right now!!! #southernhemisphere) Unfortunately, I have literally no idea what the name of the song is, and even when I hear it and excitedly ask a Brazilian the name, they reply so quickly and with such Portuguese flourish that I'm like--

I don't understand what you just said???

Alas, I must listen to the random snatches of the song that I hear walking on the street and just try to bust out my moves on the sidewalk. 

After the dance lesson, a few of us went to a nearby bar to celebrate Thursday with a traditional Brazilian drink called the caipirinha. Apparently, these sugar-alcohol-based drinks are v dangerous, because they're so sweet that you can't even notice how strong they are. All I know is that after half of one, I very willingly lost a round of "Odds Are" (a dare game that is very fun) and twerked on a wall for about 10 seconds. It was an experience.

pre-twerking, still happy and fresh-faced

We were all supposed to go out to a bar as a group that night, but I pled out, desperate for sleep. #boringAubs

Friday (TGIF) involved 8 (yes, 8) hours of class (okay, there was a lunch break, but still). Incredibly long day. Sam and I were almost late to class because our 15-minute breakfast turned into an hour-long breakfast in which we stuffed ourselves with coffee cake, fruit, toast, and mortadella sandwiches (okay, that last one was just me, because Sam is vegetarian). Totally worth it, though. I eat about twice as much as I should every single meal, tbh.

Class rocked, but during a lecture on immigration into Brazil, I found myself incredibly aware of my Californian-ness for the 1832019430243972nd time since entering college. My professor commented that the Chinese immigrated in droves into Brazil and she off-handedly threw in that "maybe" some went to the US as well. 

Maybe?

Maybe?

Hello??? Gold Rush in California??? The fact that Chinese immigrants, enduring tragic harassment, abuse, and discrimination, built the entire transcontinental railroad and established themselves as incredibly successful citizens of the United States despite the prejudice and hardships facing them? Does Chinatown ring a bell??? Reduced to a "maybe."

People are incredibly ignorant of Californian history, and West Coast history in general, which is shocking to me, considering I spent my entire childhood learning about the establishment of missions, the California Gold Rush, Native American tribes occupying the West Coast, immigration into Northern California, etc. etc. I remember that my class on the History of American Capitalism freshman year spent two hours covering the French fur trade in the 16th century, while reducing the Gold Rush to a single bullet point in passing. Like yah k makes sense (not). Anyways, as a history major and die-hard Californian, I think I'll spend practically my entire life trying to prove to people that California is worth learning about (considering we contribute hella culture/money/awesomeness to American and global society) and worth loving.

Ugh such a random side-note, especially when I'm leaving for this game, like, five minutes ago, but I needed to reaffirm my love for the best coast.

forever, babe.

I actually also led a class discussion on Friday, which was extremely nerve-wracking considering the touchy subject and the passionate beliefs of many of my peers, but I couldn't help but insert a (perhaps naively) optimistic note into my conclusion. We were discussing all these problems that we've seen in the United States, India, and Brazil, and we all noticed that they overlapped a ton. Issues of class, problems with race and racism, seemed not identical but highly similar across the continents and cultures. Yes, these are global problems, but I argue that this may mean there are global solutions. I got super excited about the potential for gradual improvement around the world on these crazy complex challenges facing so many people that often seem impossible to solve. Who knows, maybe I can one day help in some way to improve something somewhere. (Hint: broad goals are the easiest ones to achieve.) Really though, the toughest and thorniest issues are the hardest but most satisfying to solve. And I truly believe that it's possible..

encouragement

Post-discussion, Sally and I enjoyed two (yes, two) consecutive lunches then returned to class for a super fascinating panel on urban justice. Post-class, it was the weekend (woohoo!!!) and I got super stoked for the imminent pregame and club scene that night. 

But of course, in true Aubrey fashion, by 9 PM, I was like--

Kind of embarrassing, but like also, come on. That's just me. I didn't go out a single time in Israel, and I really don't regret it at all. Clubbing is just really, really, really not my thing. I've definitely conquered quite a bit of my social anxiety back at school (I'm practically queen of the PSK) (JK, pls don't blackball me because I said that) (love you guys the most), but random parties in random cities still make me hyperventilate. So, I will absolutely enjoy Sao Paulo nightlife for at least a few nights while I'm here.... But I'm also not gonna put myself in situations that make me super uncomfortable just for the sake of saying I went out. I think I've learned better than that over the past few years. Is this what maturity is like? EW.

potentially

I especially appreciated my decision after hearing that my friends were out until 5:30 in the morning.

literally me upon hearing this

I swear I had a second-hand panic attack.

This morning, Sam and I went on an awesome walking tour of Sao Paulo with three other friends and really enjoyed ourselves. 

My favorite tidbits: 

-that if you miss the last subway of the night because you've been drinking too much, then keep drinking until 4:40 AM when the first subway of the day comes around!!!

-the municipal library has an incredible large-scale artistic piece on the sidewalk in front of it. Using hundreds of small tiles in the actual concrete, the artist spelled out "library" in dozens of different languages!!!

-the Se Cathedral is one of the largest Neo-Gothic cathedrals in the entire world.

-the tallest building in the entire city of Sao Paulo is a really ugly office building that isn't open to the public--until now!!! Heineken is holding a lottery-style raffle that will allow select individuals to drink on the top floor. WOAH!

Here are a few pics from the tour:

the Municipal Theatre--beautiful building!

Se Cathedral!

A gigantic street market

Anyways, I'm about to be late for the awesome soccer game that we are attending tonight, so I must sign off--but I'm so loving Sao Paulo. I am already planning my next visit to Brazil, and I still have four weeks left here!! Fantastically refreshed, super excited, and incredibly grateful for this experience.

Love to you all,

AUBREY

Savoring Sao Paulo

Oh my gosh—I can’t believe it’s only been about 48 hours since my previous blog post! It kind of feels like I’ve been in Sao Paulo for a lifetime, and India feels years away. Before I even get into my incredible day and a half that I’ve had in Sao Paulo, I’d love to echo a sentiment that my new homestay partner, Samantha, made about being in Brazil after India. She commented that our time here (even though it’s been short thus far) has already begun to color her recollection of India and how she perceives her experiences in Ahmedabad.

I couldn’t agree more.

It seems that all of us have already begun to compare, to relate back, and to compartmentalize; half of our sentences begin with, “well, in India,” or “remember how in India?” I can’t decide if this is good or bad. I think drawing comparisons can be helpful in contextualizing perceptions, and it’s nice to share our common experiences and build on them, but what does it mean for my recollection of India if I talk about how much more I love the humidity and lushness here in comparison to the dryness and dustiness of Ahmedabad, or if I relish the paved sidewalks and convenience of non-bucket showers? I have barely been afforded the time to sift through and cement my impressions of India, and I am already forming new memories and putting them into direct competition with those of the last month. Seems kind of unfair, kind of dangerous—but also really exciting.

BUT ANYWAYS—that’s enough seriousness for now. Great news—I have the internet for GIF’s again!!!

I know!! Way less of my boring words, way more laughs and visuals.

Picking up from where my last blog left off. We left the hotel around 12 PM to get our first full Brazilian lunch. And oh my god—it was unreal.

Beef, salads, sushi (SUSHI!!!) all arranged in a beautiful buffet. The plate was weighed in order to assign a price, and we paid at the end of the meal. It was freaking amazing. We also had a quick orientation to the program and were told our homestay partners, which was v exciting. On our walk back, I embraced the humidity and heat and green of the city like I was in paradise.

#praise

I had missed plants and nature so much, and while I wasn’t really expecting it, foliage encroaches every street in Sao Paulo. I guess that could be the rainforest influence, right? But I’m not questioning it, I’m just savoring it.

me every other second

Samantha (my homestay partner) and I were picked up from the hotel with our bags by our new homestay mom. I don’t want to say I packed a lot, but this might be an accurate portrayal of my packing habits.

Woops. I just have a lot of baggage, okay?

I loved (loved) chatting with my home stay mom, Maria, on our drive to our new home. She pointed out numerous shops, pubs, and theaters along the ride, giving tips about places to go and eat. In one of those moments of what may be an unfair comparison to my Indian experience, I realized how beneficial it is to have a local with whom you can communicate about the city. I definitely felt close in a way to Shamim, my Indian host mom, but it makes me sad that I missed out on the fulfilment of experiencing Ahmedabad with someone who actually knew the place. (But I don’t think any family will ever compare to the OG [aka original] home stay fam—hollah @ the Morrises!!)

Our apartment sits at the top of a small hill, surrounded by other tall buildings and the quaint villa of Sally’s home stay family. (!!!yay!) Our host mom led us to the top floor (omg) of the 18-story building (OMG) with literally the. most. stellar view.

LOOK!!!!

WOW. WOW. I feel like an urban Rapunzel, or some romantic-tragic figure in a city-set drama.

literally how I picture myself

I’m living in a penthouse overlooking the largest city of the Southern Hemisphere. I think that the unbelievable view alone has made me reconsider my absolute refusal to ever live in a city. I sat on the windowsill for like thirty minutes, just staring out into the sunset wistfully and picturing my next *candid* Insta pic from that very spot.

Now, about my family!!! Our mom, Maria, is kind, open, honest, and very motherly. She has three kids: Luigi, a son whom we have not yet met; Lara, a daughter who is currently travelling in Australia and will return in a few weeks; and Liza, a fun, frank, and compassionate mom of a six-month old, Maria!!! The daughter is unbelievably adorable, and I’ve taken ample time to play with her and hold her and make her smile. She’s so cute and well-natured, ugh so much love. There is also another foreign exchange “host brother” in the house named Fumito; he’s a businessman from Japan with whom we’ve had some pretty cool conversations about our travels.

After an unreal dinner of chicken-rice soup (of which I had like four bowls while everyone else had one), chicken with bell peppers, avocado (yes, I cried), pumpkin, rice and beans, etc. etc…. I loved it a ton. The meal felt much more reminiscent of my meals back home, more familiar in its spices and consistency and makeup. In all honesty, I never ate Indian food in the US; it was not really my favorite kind of food. I savored the tastes while I was in India, and there’s also just something really cool and satisfying about eating a region’s food while you’re actually there, but I definitely stuff myself with Brazilian food, whereas I tentatively and delicately ate last month.

me in India

me in Brazil

After dinner, Sam and I figured it was the appropriate time to breathlessly ask for the WiFi password. WIFI AT HOME, what a concept!!! After a month of momentary stolen glances at Facebook and Snapchat, I’m reentering popular culture like,

damn Daniel? white vans? what???

I was indulging myself with the wonders of the Internet when all of a sudden, a commotion arose outside the window. Samantha, Fumito, and I looked at each other inquisitively, then opened the living room window. Numerous neighbors were hanging out of the windows, banging pots of pans, flickering their lights, shouting aggressively in Portuguese. Honks reverberated from the streets, fireworks went off from below, and the flashing of lights could be seen in buildings miles away.

We stood there for five minutes, wondering if it a soccer game had been won, or if a spontaneous protest had taken place, when all of a sudden our host sister Liza abruptly came to the window and, with a brisk “excuse me,” began banging two pot lids.

Shocked, we asked her what was happening. “Our president is speaking,” she responded primly, “we don’t like her.”

OH MY GOD. OH. MY GOD. I felt my arm hairs stand on end, I got the chills, I felt almost giddy. HOW FREAKING COOL is this method of social protest!!!!!!!??????? It felt so communal, so metaphorical and symbolic, and so peaceful a way of expressing distaste. I don’t know exactly why it so titillated my passion for politics, but something about it absolutely enthralled me. Today, we learned that it is specifically called a “Panellasou,” or a “cooking pot fest,” and it has problematic origins, but for some reason, I found myself astounded. It must have lasted for about ten full minutes, and I sat mesmerized in front of the window for its entirety. Fascinating.

My sleep was sort of interrupted by the steamy heat of our bedroom (no fan or AC) and my disruptive jet lag, so Samantha and I woke up pretty early to go for a jog.

Ahhhh, jogging. I missed you so.

FIRST, though, we ate literally my dream breakfast (sorry I keep talking about food, I’m just in love with eating). We ate bread, fresh fruit, and coffee cake with copious amounts of coffee. Like ya, okay, twist my arm. We then met our neighbor, who will hopefully reappear in future blog posts, if ya catch my drift.

We took the elevator downstairs and found that in order to exit the complex, we had to get through this legitimately impenetrable gate. We wandered to a little guard hut and asked (in English) how to get out. He looked at us kind of pathetically and shook his head.

“Espanol!!??” we asked excitedly. “Un poquito,” he said hesitantly. Samantha and I then looked at each other, waiting for the other to whip out some Spanish knowledge.

“Como…” Samantha began, and all of a sudden, this super athletic beautiful woman came up and asked, “Need some help?’

She conversed with the guard and he buzzed us out, and we thanked our first guardian angel of the day.

We decided to run for about eight minutes then just turn back the way we had come after that time. Only problem—we took a few too many twists and turns, and when my alarm signaled our halfway mark, we kind of stood there like—

Ummmm…. Woops.

We started to wander in the general direction in which we thought our apartment was, and, after about thirty minutes of strolling through delightfully artsy streets filled with quaint and stylish shops and restaurants, WE FOUND OUR STREET.

I won’t say I was worried, but like….

It was good to be back.

We got ready pretty hurriedly, because we were meeting Sally and Maria for a visit to a museum. Unfortunately, time slipped away from us, and we ended up not having time to go before class (Strike 1). BUT I did get to meet a few dogs and play fetch, so that made my day.

We ate our disappointment and scarfed down some sushi, which was legit unreal. I may have already written this, but Brazil has the second-largest Japanese population in the world, preceded only by Japan. So the sushi was pretty lit.

  

Class came next, and every single person was practically bouncing with a newfound energy. The transition to a new city had invigorated all of us, and we conversed and discussed with an unforeseen excitement and passion. We learned some introductory Portuguese, which looks enough like Spanish for me to feel moderately comfortable learning it, and also discussed the complicated and fascinating histories of race and Brazil. I enjoyed every second.

To make up for our lack of cultural stimulation that morning, our group decided to visit an alley with street art close to our homes. Unfortunately, a downpour of pelting rain cancelled our plans (Strike 2) and forced us to seek shelter in a random bus (since we weren’t quite sure which we’d taken to get to school in the morning). Luckily, we’d chosen the correct one… Unluckily, we got out on the wrong stop.

It did give us the opportunity to explore a used bookstore and a restaurant named “California,” which I obv freaked out over.

me @ California

We finally got home at 6:30 PM, just in time for another fab dinner. We then went with our host sister (and her adorable daughter!!!!) to a diner down the street for an unreal Twix pastry. Though Sally, her home stay partners, Samantha, and I had promised each other we would meet up for drinks, we all passed out before 9 PM (Strike 3).

I’m truly loving my experience here already—I feel joyful, adventurous, excited, happy. Perhaps it’s just the euphoria of a new location, but part of me feels like I’ll be visiting Brazil, and all of South America, numerous times in the future. Time to soak in all of its initial wonderfulness for the next four and a half weeks!

Hope you enjoyed my first GIF-laden post after a month of lots of words--thanks for stickin' in there!!!

Bom tarde (good afternoon!),

Aubrey

Trans-Atlantic Travel

Wow. After twenty-four hours of consecutive travel--made up of one international flight, a four-hour layover, and a sixteen-hour transcontinental flight--I am in BRAZIL!!

Sunday was full of packing, preparation for departure, and a final gluttony for Indian food. Sally and I had a heartfelt goodbye with our host mother, who cried upon our presentation of some goodbye gifts. I did not realize until the sharp pang that hit me when I stopped outside the door of my host mom's house that India had stolen a little piece of my heart when I wasn't paying attention. There are things that I definitely am happy to escape--the pollution, the trash in the streets, the death-defying rides in rickshaws--but I will miss some things. The kindness, inquisitiveness, and generosity of the people. The dazzling, vibrant markets at which I spent all of my money. The sensoral stimulation of color and sound and smell. It's sad to leave behind.

There are also obviously things that will haunt me probably forever. The poverty; the corruption; the animal neglect. It's only now that I can compartmentalize India, that I can say, "I was there," that I'm starting to realize I've just begun to process the things I saw and heard and experienced. I'm just beginning to grapple with the problems and the differences... It will take me months, potentially years, to actually understand what I went through. Kind of crazy to recognize.

Our flight left at 4:30 AM on Monday, Indian time. I had a few minor mishaps, including the security officer stamping my ticket incorrectly and me having to exit the security line in order to rectify the mistake (only me. Nobody else.), but I mean my travel was relatively smooth considering my usual hassles.

We flew to Dubai, United Arab Emirates, and waited for about four hours for our 16-hour flight (!!!) to Sao Paulo.

I don't think I realized how freaking long that is until we were six hours (aka my normal flight length from school back home) into the journey and I realized that we still weren't halfway. Yikes.

But, after three movies, fitful naps, two meals, a few games of Sudoku, screenings of "Black-ish" and "Friends," and lots of complaining--WE ARRIVED.

Some first impressions after a month in India/a full day's worth (literally 24 hours) of travelling/a 40-minute bus ride in the dark to my hotel:

--lots of green, thank GOD! So many trees, so much foliage, so lovely
--international chains and music!!! walking through the duty-free part of the airport was like a dream. MAC, Victoria's Secret, etc. etc. and lots of pop music that I'd missed oh so much.
--traffic laws: people stop at stoplights. Novel concept.
--a language I can almost understand: my rudimentary knowledge of Spanish just might be enough to allow me to limp through this Portuguese country with very minimal disasters.
--amazing food. Breakfast included no less than twelve (twelve) different kinds of bread. I tried nine of them. Beach bod, here I come!!!
--WATER. Funny, considering Brazil is in a drought right now, but water was actually the first thing I noticed. Rainy skies, flowing rivers, humidity... My hair hates it, but I love it.

This post is practically unintelligible, probably because my concept of time has been mitigated by my flouncing through time zones (is it 11 AM? Or PM? I couldn't tell you) and my continued awe at my travels. The fact that I'm studying abroad in three different continents, that I'm in the Southern Hemisphere for the first time ever, and that I'm legitimately travelling the world with some of the most intelligent, exciting, adventurous, and wonderful people I've ever met boggles my mind.

Today, I'll be getting assigned to a new host family and settling into a new house; eating more Brazilian food aka steak hopefully; and getting acquainted to the city that will be my classroom, playground, and home for the next month. STOKED AS CAN BE!!!

Adeus por agora (Goodbye for now),
Aubrey!

Little Rann of Kutch

(From February 20)

What a truly wonderful weekend to close out India. Nature, puppies, and heartfelt conversation—what could be better?

We left Ahmedabad yesterday around 9 AM to drive to the Little Rann of Kutch, a “perfect valley” near the Pakistani border. I slept most of the way there and woke up to a wonderland of green foliage and fresh air. Perhaps most conducive to my overwhelming joy, though, were the PUPPIES.

The retreat was home to five 17-day-old yellow Labrador puppies, with a doting mother and a burly but sweet father. Also in attendance at the puppy party were a gorgeous Doberman, a straggly St. Bernard, and an extremely overweight pug. I was in PARADISE. I legitimately spent every spare moment with the doggies, and I was finally able to prove to all of my friends that I am indeed a crazy canine lady. Indeed, cuddling a sleeping Lab convinced me that I need neither boyfriend nor children nor friends; I will be satisfied if I have dogs.

Okay, but that’s enough (for now) about the dogs. The grounds, while pretty quaint, were well-maintained and secluded. We grouped into clusters of four and chose our “glamping” huts (glam camping, for those of you not in the know). Sally and I chose to share a bed, because duh. And we chilled out for about an hour until our SAFARI.

The safari, however, was not quite what we expected. We piled into decked-out jeeps (reminded me a lot of my ride through the Jordanian desert in Wadi Rum), ready for sightings of lions and tigers and not bears, but I had to finish the saying. Tbh, though, we see more wild animals in the streets of Ahmedabad than we did on this three-hour safari.

We saw a lot of dystopian-looking landscape, cracked desert-y ground, dust clouds, and the occasional flock of birds or herd of wild ass. We mainly enjoyed being with one another, quipping about common phenomena from the last month and teasing one another about our experiences. We headed back tiredly after sunset and partook in an awesome dinner (with Italian pasta) and chocolate cake. We also learned some fun Indian dance from a few young girls that lived and worked in the area. It was festive and fun but still chill. Really wonderful.

Jenn, Geneva, and I woke up early this morning in an attempt to go on a morning jog. We hit many dead-ends in our foray onto the street and through some farmland, but it was super wonderful to get in some solid exercise after way too many weeks of sedentariness. Our afternoon consisted of engaged conversation about our experiences and some really heartfelt conversations about our appreciation for one another and our shared joy. I relished the companionship and made the goal to continue building closeness with every individual on this program.

This weekend (for all of the mini-disasters and awkward moments that I’ve simply chosen not to mention) encapsulated the feelings and conversations and sensorial experiences that I so craved when I chose this study abroad program. I felt a closeness with my surroundings, with my peers, and with myself. The peace of the retreat, and the honesty and compassion of my friends, and my own willingness to be open and receptive to others made for such a wonderful final weekend in India. And only like 85% of my maniacal joy came from the plethora of dogs, which is pretty generous to the humans that I interacted with, honestly.

Our return trip to Ahmedabad sped by quickly, and we emerged into air so smoggy that the moon’s light is hazy and fuzzy. It’s like looking through smeared sunglasses. But, that’s okay, because in about 24 hours, we will be breathing in the canned, tinny air of an airplane as we jet to SAO PAULO!!!!! WAHOO! Crime capital of the world, here we come!!!

Sally and I are relishing our last night as roommates in Shamim’s home. We’ll probs be finishing off our night with a gripping showing of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, so you could say I’m pretty frickin stoked. Anyway—I’m very happy I’m finishing my experience in India on such a high and sweet note. And that I got to cuddle with some puppies.

Farewell,

Aubrey

Living A Dream

(From February 18)

Of course, I’m just starting to feel comfortable, happy, and settled right as my group prepares to jet off into the morning sun towards Sao Paulo, Brazil. These past few days, though, have begun to greatly improve my impression of my experience in India, like sucking on a sweet candy after a particularly sour meal.

Let me clarify: it’s not India the country that’s been difficult or “sour,” and it’s not even my experiences themselves. It’s how I’ve thought about my experience since I’ve been here. I’ve been so overwhelmed (don’t take a drink every time you see that word in this blog or you’ll die of alcohol poisoning) and shocked and paralyzed that I’ve barely had time to process all of the fantastic things that I’ve seen and heard and lived. I’ve been too busy and occupied coping with the difficult, confounding, and sometimes downright terrible thing I’ve dealt with. So, finally having a few days of relaxing fun and exploration finally allowed for the novelty and wonderfulness of “holy sh*t, I’m in India,” to seep into my conscious.

Honestly, yesterday feels like a thousand years ago, but I’m going to do my best to recall. Sally and I woke up really early (like 7 AM) to rush to school in order to finish our groups’ separate presentations (and post Instagrams) (mine did very well, thank you for asking). In each country, we are required to do group presentations on certain assigned topics that account for 30% of a class grade. So basically, it’s my midterm season.

The presentations took all morning but were super interesting. Plus, I was just super proud of my incredibly passionate and intelligent classmates, and their investment in and knowledge of their topics excited me.

We gathered for lunch in our open courtyard then were given the rest of the day to do research on our final paper topics. (Don’t know if I’ve explained that yet, but I’ll get to it at some point.) Sally and I chose to spend the afternoon writing a paper (which was our last assignment in India!), because we don’t have the WiFi to turn it in today, the actual due-date. I ended up finishing about an hour before Sally and relished the speedy WiFi at our school that was completely unoccupied, since all other students had left. I breathlessly watched Netflix for the first time in a freaking MONTH, and while I truly enjoyed Crazy, Stupid Love, I couldn’t help feeling that I was sort of cheating on Bear Grylls. Hoping he forgives me<3

Sally, our friend Maddy, and I headed to the market for the last time to check out some deals and scour the walls for gorgeous Indian tapestries. I wasn’t planning on buying any, but I couldn’t resist their mesmerizing beauty, the jaw-droppingly fantastic prices, or the opportunity to hang up an ~authentic~ Indian tapestries in my dorm room. Sally and I also dawdled around and found some lovely gifts for our host mother.

Upon our return, we ate a delicious Indian dinner (my first full Indian meal in a week, woo!) and settled into bed early to watch Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, a true cinematic masterpiece. I feel like those are the moments I’m supposed to remember about study abroad, college, and life—snuggling in bed with a dear friend, cheering Harry Potter along in his first Quidditch game. Twas wonderful.
I woke up late this morning after a night of extremely vivid and weirdly disturbing dreams (I blame the malaria pills). Today was meant to be a full day of research, so naturally Sally and I planned to do basically everything but schoolwork. First, we finished up writing our postcards to friends and families back home then were accompanied by Shamim to the post office to send them off.

“Office,” though, may be a rather generous noun. This little stone building was kind of like an open-air hut, and when Sally and I attempted to approach the counter, a man was sitting on a table in front that blocked half of the window. So I kind of had to stand to the side of the window and lean my head over at a weird angle, attempting to hover as far away as possible from the unsubtly leering man.

It was pretty inefficient, taking the guy like 15 minutes to get our stamps, and I was getting impatient until I realized it literally takes the same amount of time to do anything at USPS in the States. Once Sally and I received our postage—which were old-school stamps the back of which you had to lick to get sticky—we prepared our postcards for mailing. We took pictures of the messages to send to our recipients in case the postcards never make it to America but quickly realized how ~artsy~ the pictures looked… So we spent an extra ten minutes arranging the postcards and stamps ~just so~ in order to craft the perfect Insta. We suck, we know, okay!!?!

From the post office (which I did not trust to send a full expensive package) we schlepped our belongings to UPS in order to send souvenirs and extra clothes home. After packaging our bags, inspecting every parcel for evidence of ??? (we don’t know, I personally think they were just curious), and overall just being super helpful, they quoted our prices. While our program directors had told us to expect a price of about 400 rupees (or 8 dollars) for international shipping, my total came out to… 6000 rupees (aka about $82). Haha. Ha. I literally laughed out loud. Considering I’d paid about $20 on everything actually inside the package, it was laughable to think I’d spend that freaking much to send it back. An inquiry over the phone to our good friend revealed that this was way too much and that she’d hired a courier service to send her stuff from her home for only about 2000 rupees. So we apologized, said thank you, and hurried out the door before they could charge us for packaging all of our sourvenirs.

Another thing I’ll miss from India—how freaking cheap everything is. I’ll be in for a rude awakening in Brazil, a country which is about as expensive as the United States.

Anyways—we ate a really yummy, “multi-national” meal for lunch (aka salads and Italian food) then excitedly walked to the closest McDonald’s for fries, McFlurries, and free WiFi.

Being at McDonald’s was so homey and interesting and fun. It was so different from home McDonald’s in that this restaurant legit felt like a happening, upscale place. The walls were black with artsy decals, super hip music was playing (hey there, Adele), and teens were gathered around tables chatting and lounging. Of course, we barely noticed the activity, as we were glued to our phones and the first available WiFi in 24 hours.

Around 4 PM (seriously, where did this day go), we hailed a rickshaw and rode to our friends’0 homestay for the courier service. We successfully shipped off our belongings for only a fraction of UPS’s price, and we were informed that our packages would reach home in only 3-5 days!!! Amazing service, bravo.

Sally and I headed to get pedicures at a spa right down the street from our friends’ house. An hour-long pedicure with massage, lotion, and nail-painting cost only *drum roll*…. 350 rupees. About $5.00. TREAT YO SELF.

I have really weird pinky toes that my pedicurist honestly did not know how to deal with, and the language barrier was practically impossible to puncture on this issue, so I just grabbed the nail polish and dealt with the abnormality myself. Woops.

On the way home, our rickshaw driver tried to rip us off by refusing to give us our ten rupees that he owed us because he “had no change.” UNACCEPTABLE. I don’t know if I was still on a sugar high from the McFlurry, or I was feeling ultra-confident due to my hot new toes, but I got super stubborn and simply refused to get out of the vehicle. I sat there, obstinately demanding my ten rupees (about twenty cents). The driver kept yelling at me in Gujarati but I just sat there with what I thought was a blank look on my face; honestly, though, it was probably a look of anger and feigned ignorance, because I’m really bad at hiding my emotions through facial expressions. I think that after ten minutes (literally ten minutes) this dude started to get scared that I’d never actually leave, so he removed about five rupees in coins from his shirt pocket and practically tossed them at me then threw his hands up in the air in exasperated desperation. I decided to cut my losses and hop out of the car with my hard-won ten cents.

But it was never about the money. It was about the principle.

Sally and I just had a delicious chicken soup dinner and are watching History Channel, because Discovery Channel’s gore doesn’t make an appetizing side to meaty dinners. We will be getting to sleep very soon so that we are well-rested for our nature retreat in the Little Rann of Kutch tomorrow. I’m so excited to drive out of the city, away from the crowds, this weekend. (yes I did just do that.) (have I told you about the time that I very ill-advisedly texted a boy lyrics from a Justin Bieber song to atone for my mistakes?) (stories for another day.)

I don’t know what’s more bizarre: that I’m actually beginning to feel almost comfortable here in Ahmedabad or that I’m about to start the acclimation process all over again in only three days. Well, nothing lasts forever. But this is getting good now.

See you in your Wildest Dreams,
Aubrey Stoddard 

Back @ It

(From February 16)

After four days of sickness and seclusion, I was itching to re-enter the real world on Monday. I woke up excitedly, feeling too ill to scarf down the gorgeous fruits that my host mother had cut up for me but still determined to brave the bumpy rickshaw drive to the school.

Sally and I greeted each other like long-lost siblings, babbling incessantly and laughing maniacally about the seventy-two hours that had elapsed since our last goodbye. I attempted to catch up on the first half of the group project that had begun in my absence on Friday but focused more on updating my Facebook and blog after about a week without WiFi on my laptop. I caught the gist, though: my group was in the midst of researching real estate developers in relation to the massive development project taking place on the Sabarmati Riverfront, a river which cuts through the middle of Ahmedabad. We had several site visits to make and limited time (and energy) to get through them.

We stopped at a few locations, which are mostly a blur, then made our way to an art-deco café for lunch (reminded me a lot of the beautiful restaurant in Ein Hod, Haifa, Israel!) that served Italian food. I’m not exaggerating when I say that images of pasta had literally been dancing through my mind only the previous day; it can be difficult to crave Indian food when your stomach has decided that it hates you. Of course, in usual Indian fashion, when I went up to the counter and excitedly ordered a pasta dish, I was haughtily told that they had run out of pasta in addition to wraps, pizza, and side dishes. Only sandwiches and omelettes remained.

I squinted with withering disappointment and huffily ordered a sandwich, with Sally hastily reassuring that I could share her pasta, which apparently she had ordered the last of. I ended up stuffing myself with my first full meal since Wednesday, scarfing down pasta, pizza, and a caprese sandwich. I felt slightly sick afterwards but refused to admit it.

After one final presentation, Sally and I rode home on our bumpy rickshaw and collapsed into bed for a nap. About an hour or so later, we emerged to find two English-speaking women our age (!!!!) that happened to be our host mother’s nieces sitting and waiting to converse with us. It was super exciting, but in all honesty, Sally talked with them more while I turned on Discovery Channel’s Belief with Oprah Winfrey (Mondays at 9 PM!!!!!!) and sat riveted to the television.

Knowing that my stomach had been ailing me, my host mother decided to make tomato soup and macaroni and cheese in order to serve a dish mild enough for my raging indigestion. It was such a kind (and delicious) gesture and made me feel way more comfortable.

Today (Tuesday) was our first day back in the classroom since Wednesday. Sally and I had begun to get suspicious of our regular rickshaw driver, who takes us to class every single morning for 120 rupees (or about $2). We’d been able to cajole drivers into returning us home for only about 100 rupees, so we decided to put our driver’s meter to the test in order to detect whether or not we’d been ripped off over the past few weeks. Our driver, a little bit shocked and slightly offended, haltingly agreed to turn on his meter.

Lo and behold—our trip to the school should only have cost 93 rupees a day! We had been swindled!!!!!!!! While I demanded that our driver give us two free rides in order to pay us back, Sally took a slightly less radical stance and simply told him we’d only be paying the correct price from now on. We both stalked away from the cheating driver without a backwards glance.

(These are the times when I really really wish I could use gifs—so many possibilities!!!!! Hopefully Brazil does me better with technology…)

Class today was interesting and flew pretty quickly. We ate one of my favorite dishes today (first Indian food in a week!!!) and walked to get some ice cream (#1 of the day). Our groups then met up to finalize our presentations that make up 30% of our final grade for one of our four classes.

In high school in group projects, I would often take complete control, promising my fellow members that we’d get an A if they’d allow me to do all of the work without interference. The deal was usually accepted without hesitation. I realized in college, though, that I was surrounded by people like me; Harvardians are not usually keen on handing the wheel to a fellow student. Funnily enough, my group this time around had all three Harvardians in it, and the other two, as well as a fellow group member, were jostling for control. I decided to relinquish any semblance of my Type A personality and simply go along for the ride, only copying drawn diagrams into Microsoft Word using lines and text boxes. I felt quite relaxed.

After finishing up our preliminary drafts, we departed, I taking four books from a mini library I’d found in our working space. Sally and I hurried home so that Saba, our host mom’s daughter, could give us a tour of the neighborhood mosque for an observation exercise we had to complete. But first… Ice cream #2 of the day since the first place I’d gone didn’t have the exact bar that I loved.

The mosque was extremely interesting, and I enjoyed comparing my experiences and observations with those I’d had in Turkey at the numerous mosques I’d visited. This one was much more outdoors-oriented because of the warm and hot weather year-around. It also had much more Hindi influence in its architecture and its customs, which I found fascinating. It made me curious to see Christian churches in the area (a religion with which I’m more familiar and on which I’m more educated) to see how they differ from churches back home.

We returned to the home and were visited by two more people, one of whom also spoke English (!!!! In Sally’s words, it’s become a sitcom here! “There’s a knock at the door, and you’re just looking to see who comes in next.”) We’ve been so starved for interaction that we react in quite different ways to the commotion. Sally gladly interacts, firing off questions and engaging in conversation. I usually just sit back in relative silence, letting the intelligible noise flow over me and relishing the delight of company. I get kind of shy with strangers at first and would rather listen to conversation as opposed to instigating it. Nevertheless, I really enjoy the visitors…. While eating ice cream #3.

Our host mom made one of her delicacies tonight of which we’d heard raving compliments but had never tried: CHINESE food!!! Indian Chinese food, what a thought. I think we were a little apprehensive, but our first taste of her Manchurian chicken assuaged any worry we’d had—it was absolutely phenomenal. We gobbled it up, and my stomach only murmured slightly in protest. I shushed it completely with one mini Three Musketeers provided by my host mom.

It’s been a tumultuous week—honestly, a completely hectic month. I’ve been thrown into this insane situation with twenty-nine strangers, and we are simply all making it up as we go along. Being in India has really shaken my sense of identity, though, which has been disconcerting to the point of tears. I’ll try to explain.

I define myself in so many ways, both consciously and subconsciously. I label myself through habit, background, likes, dislikes, and many other things. Everybody does. But being in India has forced me to peel back all of these layers, significant and insignificant, and I’ve been forced to re-examine who I am.

On a light note, for example: I used to think I was someone who used toilets. Yeah, in the occasional moment camping in the woods, I would hide behind a tree, but like 99% of the time, I sat my butt down on a toilet seat and did my business.

No longer the case. I’ve used Indian toilets—aka a hole in the ground—almost every day we’ve been here. Sometimes, even when there’s a choice between an Indian toilet and a “Western” toilet, I choose the former due to the cleanliness.

Another thing—I always thought of myself as a lover of any and all dogs, always. And like I still am… but even I cringe a little when I see one of the mangy mutts here digging through cow poop in the street, and the wince is not always sympathetic. Sometimes it’s in disgust. However, love for canines was one quality that I decided I was determined to retain, which partly helps explain my reckless behavior from Saturday in feeding and coaxing random strays that may or may not have had rabies.

Finally, I’ve always thought of myself as joyful, and prided myself on that fact. I like to say that I carry a little inner flame of joy and gratefulness and appreciation and humility in my belly and feed it constantly with the positivity I find both in the environment around me and within myself. But so many times here, I’ve been reduced to a puddle of tears for no good reason. I complain about things out of and within my control, and I embrace negativity far too often. Am I still joyful? Am I still happy? I don’t know.

I’ve really been struggling with this lack of definition. How can I travel the world and appreciate new things and form opinions and maintain beliefs if I can’t even keep my definition of “self” constant? It feels hopeless. So, a few nights ago, I started listing things that I know for a fact about myself. Like, I love to read. I’ve been reading voraciously since I’ve been gone, and I devour a book every few days. Or, I am obsessed with California, New Orleans, and Washington, D.C. Even things as simple as the fact that I love sleeping with an eye mask, because otherwise the sunlight wakes me up in the morning. Minuscule realities that tether me to the earth, that keep me sane, that remind me that I am still and always will be me, even if that me seems up in the air, or far away, or indefinite. There are still parts of me that I can count on and that I can look for when I’m lost, like flickering candles in the dark murkiness of uncertainty.

Talking to my friends back at school has helped a lot, too, but sometimes I can’t help but fear that they’ve only remained attached to that old Aubrey—the dog-loving (I still am!!!), toilet-using (not so much) joyful human being. I can’t decide yet whether I hope that’s the same Aubrey that returns to the United States in two and a half months. I am scared but hopeful that it won’t be. I think (I truly, truly hope) that I’ll only improve over my journey.

I think I’m getting slightly philosophical, though, and it’s late considering that I’ve got to get to school early for prime Instagramming time—err, I mean, to finish my presentation.

So, toodles for now, from the dog-loving, book-reading Californian who is about to put on her sleeping mask,

The Always Improving Aubrey

(Marco) Polo Forest and Valentine's Day

(From February 14)

A whirlwind of a weekend comes to a close, after fresh air for the first time in a month, a lonesome venture into the city center, and a freaking amazing ice cream sandwich.

I woke up around 6 AM yesterday morning to scarf down a quick breakfast (my first real meal since Wednesday!!!) before meeting up with companions at a nearby homestay. The five of us had all forgone a weekend at a Portuguese beach colony (aka pre-Brazil) and a luxurious spa day in order to trek into Polo Forest, a gorgeous nature reserve about two and a half hours away from Ahmedabad.

We piled into the van to start our adventure, but only ten minutes in, one of the girls frantically demanded we pull over. As soon as the quite confused driver slowed the car to the edge of the freeway, she opened the door and began vomiting.

Yikes.

I mean, it made me feel a little bit better about my previous illness—at least I could be moderately sure it wasn’t typhoid and that it was instead some stomach bug that is making its way through our group. And while I would have immediately pleaded out of the trip and opted for a day in bed being pampered on, my friend soldiered on and demanded we continue driving.

You do you, girlfriend.

I settled into the long drive comfortably. I personally really love transit. I crave the freedom of being transported from one place to the next, my only worry being whether I want to read or listen to music or nap. That’s why plane rides are, like, the best;* you’re literally not expected to do anything but sit there and chill.

(*quick note, plane rides are only the best if they’re headed towards California.)

About an hour into the journey, one of our company became enthralled by some massive rock formation on the side of the road. “I’m gonna climb it,” she exclaimed suddenly and motioned for the driver to pull over, once again.

I took one look at the giant mountain with zero footholds, no vegetation, and blaringly obvious unsafety, and quickly decided it wasn’t my cup of tea.

Instead, I took the time to make friends with the cutest freaking puppy (probs six months old at the very most) on the side of the road. It looked like a legit teddy bear, and I coaxed it enough over the next twenty or so minutes to allow me to pet it. #heaven.

I attracted quite the crowd with my compassion towards a random stray. It’s difficult to discern whether it was more shocking to see a white person or just an individual choosing to interact with an animal beyond kicking it, but either way, about fifteen villagers gathered around me and the puppy, enthralled by my affection.

What I didn’t notice in my blissful state of canine lovin’ was the other crowd gathering on the side of the road staring up at the mountain up which my friend continued to clamber. It wasn’t until another of the girls frantically ran up to me, telling me that the villagers were angry about the rock climber’s blatant disregard for safety and that our driver was demanding she return, that I looked around at the scene we were causing.

At least fifty people had lined up on the street to watch her ascent, while cars were literally stopping in the middle of the freeway to stare at the commotion. Our presence was causing an actual traffic jam. We quickly scrambled into the car in order to call the girl’s cell phone and demand she come back down. Other individuals had begun to get more curious about us (and slightly more aggressive) and were beginning to crowd around us and our car, at times reaching for the door handles and staring into the windows with their noses at the glass. I felt like a zoo animal.

It was uncomfortable, hectic, and kind of scary. One guy apparently pantomimed the snarl of a tiger, indicating that tigers were on the mountain (which turned out to be completely, one hundred percent false, but what do we know), and our driver was getting antsy, and we could no longer see my friend.

Basically, long story short, we got her off the mountain after about an hour, and were back on the road with little incident. It was an ~exciting~ morning to start off our day.

We got to the Polo Forest, excited to finally begin our foray into the great outdoors. Simply being around green, and trees, and water instilled in me a peace for which I’d been searching for weeks. Finally—I was back where I belonged (kind of).

Along our hour-long hike, we were treated to views of dry deciduous forest, which reminded me so much of home that it was happily disconcerting. At one point, we even came across a valley with rocky drops and shrubby trees that looked almost identical to my backyard. We got to swing on the hanging roots of a gigantic banyan tree, venture into abandoned, ruined temples, and catch breathtaking views of uninterrupted, seemingly endless hills. It was everything I’d needed after weeks of city life.

My delight began to dissipate literally the second we stepped back onto a main road for a singular reason. A tiny little puppy, probably less than three months old, had wandered into the street, probably looking for food, considering its ribs were sticking out. A shrill honk sent it scampering back to the side, but one random imbecile couldn’t seem to help but throw a stone at the retreating dog anyway.

I think I saw red.

BUT instead of beating up the man (which I would have gladly done), I took a deep breath and moved tentatively towards the tiny canine. I got on all fours, murmuring sweet nothings, and slowly reached out my knuckles to allow it a sniff.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget its posture or expression.

It stood there, tail tucked between its bony little legs, hunched out of perpetual fear, looking at me with the expectation of cruelty.

I know, I know, I’m in a country and a city in which I see people—human beings—in abject poverty and abhorrent conditions every day. I promise that I get upset about it, and I am going to be dedicating my life and career to improving the conditions of the world’s people. However, there is simply something about animals, especially dogs, that pierces directly to my heart every single time.

I sat there for a few moments, registering its emotions and the potential of getting viciously attacked by a dog, then reached my hand closer to its nose. After a few moments of stillness, it seemed to slowly realize that I wasn’t looking to hurt it. I cautiously began to pet its back, its head, and its ears. I sat with it for maybe one or two minutes, while most of my party continued on (bye, guys). After I stood up and brushed off my leggings, the puppy did something that cheered me more than any hike or fresh air ever could—it wagged its tail.

If you’re not an animal lover, or at least an animal liker, that story probably bored you enough to the point where you’re only skimming. I mean, hey, to each his or her own, unless its animal cruelty, then cut it out. Actually, animal mistreatment seems to be a really big problem in this place, for reasons that I don’t feel quite qualified nor uncensored enough to elaborate on at the moment, but I actually just wrote a paper on it for one of my classes that I may or may not post here later on. We’ll see if you get lucky.

We got back to the main grounds and climbed back into the car around 3 PM for what we thought would be a short three hour ride back to Ahmedabad.

Ha. Ha. Wrong.

We’d told our driver we were interested in seeing one final temple on our way home, but he apparently did not quite catch which temple… So we ended up in a completely random town at a completely random (albeit cool-looking temple) around 5 PM, and it then took us six (SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) hours to get home.

Did you read that????? SIX. HOURS. After two hours already!!!!!!!!!! Literally, we could have driven from Southern California to San Francisco in that amount of time. Instead, we were on a bumpy, curvy road (really great for my stomach, which started to act up again, and for my friend, laying in the front seat looking like she was going to die) with a driver that honked more often than not. He’d honk when he was in front of a car, or behind a car, or sometimes when there was no car at all. I started getting pretty pissy about it around 10 PM going on the seventh hour. Hope you don’t blame me for that one.

My host mom was worried sick, considering I’d told her I’d get home at 8 PM and I had no way of letting her know that I was going to be three (!!!!!!!!!!!) hours later than I’d thought—both because I had no minutes on my phone and because even if I could reach her, I couldn’t communicate with her. Super awesome situation.

I slept it off though, getting to go to bed without an alarm for the first time in three weeks. Praise to the Lord for that one, man.

I was feeling a little down (read: dejectedly depressed) today. I mean, my roommate is gone for the weekend, so I’m stuck in a home with no English speakers, no WiFi to check for any nearby spots to hang out, no phone numbers of any friends in town, and an explicit command to not go anywhere alone because of dangers. I was laying in my bed in despair, looking through photos of my family and—I’ll admit it—crying.

My parents rock though, and while Mom was virtually consoling me, my dad messaged me a place close by that he’d Google Mapped that looked interesting. So, I dried my tears and set out on an adventure, flouting the rule on travelling in pairs.

I arrived in a random city square with no English signs and lots of stares, but I took it in stride and began to wander the streets. At one point, I saw an elephant in the middle of the street and mesmerized, I began to wander towards it. That auspicious omen ended up leading me to a cyber café, where I was able to use the sweet, sweet internet for a full hour for the cheap enough price of 20 rupees—aka 30 cents.

I’ll take it.

My mini connection with the outside world (Scalia died? My friend updated her profile picture? The PSK/Sab dinner actually happened without my presence???) refreshed me and rejuvenated me. I noticed, however, that I didn’t feel any extreme compulsion to post or look at or like anything. I just wanted to message my best friends, and check my email for videos that my mom had promised to send, and laugh at updated comments on my world-famous YouTube video. That’s how I know I’m in the right place. Even though I’m depressed about animal cruelty, and poverty, and my lack of the super skill of knowing every dialect that the world has to offer, and even though I miss my friends, and my family, and my dogs (oh my god, my dogs), I don’t feel like I’m missing out. I feel completely content with my detachment from my normal life. And only like 25% of that is because I read an article in an Indian newspaper today about the “life-threatening” cold hitting Boston this Valentine’s Day (literally, it quoted “life-threatening”!!!!).

That’s not to say I’m completely content and perfectly living in the moment. It’s just like the metaphor that I shared with a very dear friend yesterday, that’s pretty good if I say so myself. (This is the last part of my blog, I promisepromisepromise, please stick with me.)

India is like this really delicious bread basket. (Go with it.) Like you’re eating this bread and you’re like, wow yeah this is great.

But you’ve already looked at the menu. And you know that following this bread basket is an amazing appetizer of caprese salad (Brazil), and then, after that, a top-grade sirloin steak (South Africa). But after the steak and the caprese (I love me some caprese) is the most delicious, incredible, mouth-watering ice cream chocolate cookie milkshake concoction that is made by the best dessert person in the whole wide world (California, obviously).

And you’re trying so hard to savor your break and to eat every last crumb, but you’re already looking forward to your appetizer and your dinner but above all you know you have to save room for dessert.

So I’m trying to savor every second in India and absorb every little experience and lick my fingers after I’m done to carry the taste, but I’m already so excited for my next adventures and honestly, more than anything, I’m really, really excited to go home. I love my family and my house and my friends and my dogs (my dooooogs!!) more than anything in the world—and I’ve seen a fair share of this ol’ place by now, so I can say that with some confidence.

Anyways. I had more poetic things to ramble on about, including identity and what it’s like to sit quietly while you’re pretty sure that everyone around you is talking about you and your digestion in a different language and the demon that lives outside my window and emerges at 4 AM every morning, but you’ve listened to me blather for more than long enough, so we can save those stories for another day.

Thanks for sticking with me. Keep me in your thoughts. And friends at Harv, please take a Valentine’s Day shot in honor of my pathetic romantic ventures over the years. (Preferably at either the PSK or Spee, as those are the most appropriate locations.)

Sending love and kisses this fourteenth of February,

AubStod