Showing posts with label rickshaw. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rickshaw. Show all posts

Friday, 19 February 2016

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 

Friday, 29 January 2016

Taking Ahmedabad by Storm

(From Thursday, January 28)

I swore to myself that I'd go to sleep immediately after dinner, but I am desperate to capture the joy, adventure, and wonder of today before I forget a single detail.

First, an observation. Almost every sign in Ahmedabad is depicted in English, as well as Gujarati. This phenomenon confused me at first, but somebody astutely remarked that it was most likely a vestige of the colonial rule by the English.


Makes a lot of sense!

It also means I can understand most of the signs that line the streets and stores, making it much simpler to actually understand what's going on around me!

Today was our first day at our Indian classroom, and we took ten rickshaws with three students in each one to mob to our school. It was honestly the definition of #squadgoals.



Seriously, we all rolled in at the same time, and usually the rickshaws rode right next to one another, so we'd reach out and grab each other's hands as we rode by one another--it was a time and a half.

Every day, one of the students acts as Person of the Day, or POD, and is in charge of running the activities for the day. Some days are extremely simple--yesterday's POD, for example, didn't even introduce herself. But of course, today was one of the most intensive POD days yet, and guess who was in charge?



That's right. Me.

I did as well as I could, honestly, and I think I more or less did a good job. The only issue came when I was attempting to prompt a guest lecturer's conclusion, because he was ten minutes over his time. He literally just ignored me, even when I stood up to try and catch his attention.

awkward

While most of the day, I was like--


I honestly kind of enjoyed being in charge and having the opportunity to  boss everyone around--it's kind of my passion.

Another crazy moment occurred today when I strolled to the restroom during class. I opened the door to a restroom that held only a urinal and a hole in the ground. "Oops!" I thought, "must be the men's!" I turned around, and saw my country director looking at me puzzled. She must have seen my shock, because she then pointed to the restroom I'd just exited, gesturing that I should go back in.

That's right. Our bathroom is a hole.


All I can say is, I'm going to have some pretty incredible legs after all of the squats that I'll be doing during the class day.

We spent our afternoon outside in the beautiful weather, learning about interviews during a lecture and eating a scrumptious Indian lunch. The casualness and warmth of both the sun and the class left no room for missing freezing-cold Boston.

We rode back to the hotel for a quick rest before a ridiculously nice dinner at a fancy country club restaurant. I took a rickshaw with two of my best friends from the hotel to the meal.

It's experiences like that one that make me wish I could accurately and wholly capture every interaction between my senses and the environment. The smell: heady, almost engulfingly clogging exhaust fumes, the musty scent of farm animals roaming the street, dirt and mud and sweat emanating fro the swarms of individuals. The sounds: overwhelming raucous of horns and yells and beeps and fireworks. The sights: colorful outfits, flashing and blinking strands of lights, car/motorcycle/rickshaw/bicycle headlights, children clinging to the backs of their mothers and fathers on the rear of crowded mopeds, shops, filled with Hindi statues and Samsung cellphones, a cacophony of activity. The taste: dust kicked up by the animals and vehicles and people, cloying gasoline, the aftertaste of a spicy lunch. And the touch: crowded next to two individuals that I love after only three weeks, the comfortable humidity of a warm winter night, a sticky sweat and a cool breeze. I tried my utmost to memorize every single feeling and thought and instant of the melee passing before me and through me and with me, because these are the moments that I will carry with me throughout my life. The foreignness, the absolutely overwhelming realization of "different," the ineffable euphoria of exploration. It was in this moment that I realized, "holy crap--I'm in India."

Dinner was another experience that will stay with me for decades. Not necessarily because of the food--which was absolutely delicious--but because of the friends that are quickly and seamlessly becoming family. For one thing, they already mock me and make fun of me for the exact quirks that my sisters do--my excessive attachment to dogs, my "obsession with myself" (undeniably true), my drama queen status.



It just shows that they have come to know my flaws, in addition to my wonderful traits and my weird tendencies, in a ridiculously short amount of time. I'm in awe of how much I already care for all of them.

Dinner was absurdly hilarious. Whether it was the drugging effect of the overwhelmingly powerful exhaust fumes, or the kooky side effects of our malaria pills, or simply the infectious humor of being with each other, my table of eight made an absolute ruckus. From hiding the samosas on our plates in order to "fool" the waiter into bringing more (Caitlin) or "hiding" the silverware in attempts to steal it (Sally), we kept each other wildly entertained--to the point of basically being ushered out of the restaurant a substantial amount of time before the rest of our group. I'm not ashamed to say I may have peed and cried a little bit from all of the hysterics.



I am just so in love with my friends here. We have a similar sense of adventure and carelessness and freedom of self-consciousness that allows for optimal amusement and fun. Even upon our return to our rooms, we fed off of each other's silliness to continue the overwhelming peels of laughter.

I cannot wait to continue my explorations through Ahmedabad with these people and take the world on, one continent and country and city at a time.

Lucky Beyond Belief,
Aubrey