Travelling exposes and demands many things. It shows your misconceptions, your expectations, your internalized stereotypes, and a multitude of hidden, sometimes subconscious ideas that lurk in your mind. It demands of you energy, investment (physical, monetary, psychological and emotional), and so much immersion. Travelling gives, and travelling takes. The past two days gave me the chance to attempt to level this difficult balance and extract what I need to from this experience in order to “find my happy.”
As I stated, this trip has been difficult on me. The abject poverty, the conditions of the humans and animals that I see, and the fact that I can’t do much to change it have all really drained me. What I didn’t realize til yesterday, though, was the fact that the city and urban environment themselves had also taken their toll.
Yesterday (which as I’m writing this was Wednesday), I finally figured out a way to communicate with my family reliably and regularly.
HALLELUJAH!!
It has legitimately changed the way I approach every situation and hardship; knowing that I can message my parents gives me the comfort and security I absolutely craved. So although I may be far in distance from my family, I can now contact them whenever I want. Take and give.
Because of my abstention from spending all class attempting to connect to WiFi, I actually paid attention!! (Kidding, I always pay attention.) But class rocked; the topics of history and Ahmedabad housing fascinated me. After lunch, the entire group mobbed to a stunning, five-century-old mosque called Sarkhej Ruza that was built on the outskirts of the city. Built of limestone and constructed with Hindi influence, it was unlike any of the mosques I’d seen in Istanbul. It looked and felt so much like the entrance to the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland, but since nobody in our group is even from the West Coast, I couldn’t share or revel in its similarity to the Forbidden Temple.
We were given some time at the beginning of our visit to wander the grounds on our own. I peeled off from the main group to check out a museum off to the side of the mosque that overlooked a gigantic field (which, in the wet season, is a lake). I marveled at its beauty, and just as promptly, burst into tears.
It was as if the shock of the city had kept my emotions and feelings and shock completely pent up; my consistent state of being overwhelmed hadn’t allowed me to express my homesickness and sadness and frustration. It was super therapeutic. I cried a little bit, then rejoined the group feeling much more refreshed.
I think this confirmed for me a notion that I’d discussed with one of my best friends back at school. There are some people that thrive on the energy and bustle of a crowded city; I, on the other hand, crave and need open space, nature, an expanse of water and land. I find that even in Boston and New York, I get claustrophobic; I thrive in the forests of Maine, and on the beaches of the Mediterranean, and even in the suburbs of Southern California, which, I have come to realize, treasure their pieces of “wild” land. For those of you who don’t know, I grew up with a canyon nature preserve as a backyard, but it wasn’t until going to school in Cambridge (in which I feel most comfortable on the banks of the Charles River) that I realized how much I internalized and fed off of this peace and tranquility of my mini “wilderness.” So, I may be exhausted and overwhelmed by the pollution and buzz and crowding of Ahmedabad (and almost definitely will be by Sao Paulo as well), but I now know that I one hundred percent need to live in a place that prizes and preserves its nature. Take, give.
Today, I finally found a zoo that I didn’t like—an occasion which I never believed would come about. A few of us went to Konkaria Lake for the day, a man-made reservoir from the 15th century that is now encircled by little restaurants, an amusement park, gardens, and a zoo. Honestly and frankly, I don’t know what I expected a zoo to be like in a city that can’t even house a million people in its population and keeps them in shacks on the street, but I was not expecting what I saw. Small cages for panthers and tigers that let in little light; concrete enclosures with no trees or grass or even dirt; and, the worst of all, a lone elephant in a gated area, who was incessantly shaking its head, which is apparently a sign of boredom and loneliness. God, I’m about to cry all over again writing this down.
I promise that I’ve been moved by the slums and by the conditions of the poor children I see in Ahmedabad, but for some reason the sight of a single elephant (one of the most social creatures on this planet) alone and feeling its loneliness broke me. Maybe it’s because back home, going to the San Diego Zoo with my dad and watching the gigantic elephant herds roam around their huge enclosures together is one of my favorite traditions. Maybe because I empathized with an animal separated from its family, in a place it doesn’t understand. Maybe I’m just an emotional wreck. But it reaffirmed my dedication to improving the well-being of every person and animal I come across, and it made me want to donate to an animal charity ASAP. Lots of take, and only a little give for this one.
After the lake, all four of us were craving an American dish—something that would taste like home. So… We went to Domino’s!
We experienced something absolutely hilarious, though. When we walked in to the Dominos around the corner from the lake, we found a few other classmates already sitting and eating their pizza!!!! With no communication between our two groups, we’d all been feeling like a good ol’ slice of American-brand pizza. It was really funny, and made me feel less alone in that I knew I wasn’t the only homesick person on this trip.
After pizza, Sally and I flexed our bargaining muscles a few times for rickshaws and a flower market, getting our drivers down from 50 rupees (75 cents) to 30 rupees and 40 rupees each way. My mom would be proud. However, I think our bargaining pissed off our first driver, as he dropped us off at a weird location five minutes from where we actually told him to take us, and while walking through the crowded street, we both got “bumped” by a motorcycle. This place is freaking insane.
At the flower market, we bought two small bouquets for our host mom after some haggling. They’re super pretty, but we got slightly worried that they might symbolize like funeral or death or something in Indian culture. I think we’re good, though.
We’re now back at our homestay, and while Sally goes shopping tonight, I think I’ll be hanging around the house doing homework, reading, and watching more Discovery Channel. I have to rest up, because tomorrow… We fly to Delhi, and on Saturday, we’re visiting the Taj Mahal!!!! WAHOO! I am so excited to see the most beautiful monument of love ever built (a sultan built this as a mausoleum for his wife). Meanwhile, I can’t even get a text back from a boy… (Kidding.) (Kinda.)
I’m super stoked for the adventure ahead of me, and I think that getting out of Ahmedabad for a few days will refresh me a lot.
I’m continuing to carve out my happy places and find my way in this dizzying, bright, overwhelming city.
Signing off,
Philosophical Aubs
As I stated, this trip has been difficult on me. The abject poverty, the conditions of the humans and animals that I see, and the fact that I can’t do much to change it have all really drained me. What I didn’t realize til yesterday, though, was the fact that the city and urban environment themselves had also taken their toll.
Yesterday (which as I’m writing this was Wednesday), I finally figured out a way to communicate with my family reliably and regularly.
HALLELUJAH!!
It has legitimately changed the way I approach every situation and hardship; knowing that I can message my parents gives me the comfort and security I absolutely craved. So although I may be far in distance from my family, I can now contact them whenever I want. Take and give.
Because of my abstention from spending all class attempting to connect to WiFi, I actually paid attention!! (Kidding, I always pay attention.) But class rocked; the topics of history and Ahmedabad housing fascinated me. After lunch, the entire group mobbed to a stunning, five-century-old mosque called Sarkhej Ruza that was built on the outskirts of the city. Built of limestone and constructed with Hindi influence, it was unlike any of the mosques I’d seen in Istanbul. It looked and felt so much like the entrance to the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland, but since nobody in our group is even from the West Coast, I couldn’t share or revel in its similarity to the Forbidden Temple.
We were given some time at the beginning of our visit to wander the grounds on our own. I peeled off from the main group to check out a museum off to the side of the mosque that overlooked a gigantic field (which, in the wet season, is a lake). I marveled at its beauty, and just as promptly, burst into tears.
It was as if the shock of the city had kept my emotions and feelings and shock completely pent up; my consistent state of being overwhelmed hadn’t allowed me to express my homesickness and sadness and frustration. It was super therapeutic. I cried a little bit, then rejoined the group feeling much more refreshed.
I think this confirmed for me a notion that I’d discussed with one of my best friends back at school. There are some people that thrive on the energy and bustle of a crowded city; I, on the other hand, crave and need open space, nature, an expanse of water and land. I find that even in Boston and New York, I get claustrophobic; I thrive in the forests of Maine, and on the beaches of the Mediterranean, and even in the suburbs of Southern California, which, I have come to realize, treasure their pieces of “wild” land. For those of you who don’t know, I grew up with a canyon nature preserve as a backyard, but it wasn’t until going to school in Cambridge (in which I feel most comfortable on the banks of the Charles River) that I realized how much I internalized and fed off of this peace and tranquility of my mini “wilderness.” So, I may be exhausted and overwhelmed by the pollution and buzz and crowding of Ahmedabad (and almost definitely will be by Sao Paulo as well), but I now know that I one hundred percent need to live in a place that prizes and preserves its nature. Take, give.
Today, I finally found a zoo that I didn’t like—an occasion which I never believed would come about. A few of us went to Konkaria Lake for the day, a man-made reservoir from the 15th century that is now encircled by little restaurants, an amusement park, gardens, and a zoo. Honestly and frankly, I don’t know what I expected a zoo to be like in a city that can’t even house a million people in its population and keeps them in shacks on the street, but I was not expecting what I saw. Small cages for panthers and tigers that let in little light; concrete enclosures with no trees or grass or even dirt; and, the worst of all, a lone elephant in a gated area, who was incessantly shaking its head, which is apparently a sign of boredom and loneliness. God, I’m about to cry all over again writing this down.
I promise that I’ve been moved by the slums and by the conditions of the poor children I see in Ahmedabad, but for some reason the sight of a single elephant (one of the most social creatures on this planet) alone and feeling its loneliness broke me. Maybe it’s because back home, going to the San Diego Zoo with my dad and watching the gigantic elephant herds roam around their huge enclosures together is one of my favorite traditions. Maybe because I empathized with an animal separated from its family, in a place it doesn’t understand. Maybe I’m just an emotional wreck. But it reaffirmed my dedication to improving the well-being of every person and animal I come across, and it made me want to donate to an animal charity ASAP. Lots of take, and only a little give for this one.
After the lake, all four of us were craving an American dish—something that would taste like home. So… We went to Domino’s!
We experienced something absolutely hilarious, though. When we walked in to the Dominos around the corner from the lake, we found a few other classmates already sitting and eating their pizza!!!! With no communication between our two groups, we’d all been feeling like a good ol’ slice of American-brand pizza. It was really funny, and made me feel less alone in that I knew I wasn’t the only homesick person on this trip.
After pizza, Sally and I flexed our bargaining muscles a few times for rickshaws and a flower market, getting our drivers down from 50 rupees (75 cents) to 30 rupees and 40 rupees each way. My mom would be proud. However, I think our bargaining pissed off our first driver, as he dropped us off at a weird location five minutes from where we actually told him to take us, and while walking through the crowded street, we both got “bumped” by a motorcycle. This place is freaking insane.
At the flower market, we bought two small bouquets for our host mom after some haggling. They’re super pretty, but we got slightly worried that they might symbolize like funeral or death or something in Indian culture. I think we’re good, though.
We’re now back at our homestay, and while Sally goes shopping tonight, I think I’ll be hanging around the house doing homework, reading, and watching more Discovery Channel. I have to rest up, because tomorrow… We fly to Delhi, and on Saturday, we’re visiting the Taj Mahal!!!! WAHOO! I am so excited to see the most beautiful monument of love ever built (a sultan built this as a mausoleum for his wife). Meanwhile, I can’t even get a text back from a boy… (Kidding.) (Kinda.)
I’m super stoked for the adventure ahead of me, and I think that getting out of Ahmedabad for a few days will refresh me a lot.
I’m continuing to carve out my happy places and find my way in this dizzying, bright, overwhelming city.
Signing off,
Philosophical Aubs
