All My Mangos

Sarah Writes a Letter to the FRO

2011-09-16T13:24:00.000-07:00

Pretty much everyone who is not on a tourist visa has to register with the Foreigners Registration Office. Indian bureaucracy is simply astounding. And not in a good way. Registration requires several visits of multiple hours each and the provision of numerous copies of every legal document in your possession. Not to mention, you must write a letter to the FRO requesting that they perform the service you need. Melinda and I had registered previously, and then we had to extend our current visas. This is a whole other process involving roughly a month of waiting and trips to several establishments all over the city. After that, we journeyed back to the FRO so that they could stamp our registration papers and make our new visas officially official or whatever. Honestly, I'm not sure any of this matters because no one has ever checked to make sure I am registered. We do it just to be safe.

Anyway, the madam of FRO office stamped our papers (after only 1 hour!), and then informed us that responsibility for our address had been shifted to a different FRO location and we needed to go there and have that office and confirm that our registration had been transferred. *Sigh*. Madam assured us that our information would be mailed to the new location that day or the next. So, a couple days later (today) we went to the new location and attempted to do as we had been told. The man there said, predictably in retrospect, that he had received none of our information and he would need copies of every legal document in our possession as well as two passport sized photos, and a letter of request stating that we would like a transfer of our registration to that office. We were super annoyed. It may not sound that bad in this blog, but trust me if you waste weeks of your life doing something pointless, and then face the possibility of having to do the whole thing again, you will be annoyed too. The part that really got me was the letter. I didn't really want to move to that office, I just wanted to be done with the FRO forever.. And why on earth should I have to request that you do your job?

In the end a wrote a polite informative letter. This is the one I wanted to write:

Dear Sir:
Since the government of your fine state is forcing me to transfer my registration to this most magnificent office, I, Sarah Beth Blake, passport number *********, visa number ********, a citizen of the United States of America, and resident at (this flat) at (this address), do most humbly request and desire THAT YOU DO YOUR FREAKING JOB and transfer my registration to this office.

                                                                                                      Yours ever so sincerely,
                                                                                                                   Sarah Beth Blake
                                                                                                                    16/09/2011

Only in my dreams... After going to back to our original FRO office and trying to figure out why they hadn't received our files, we discovered that all that was sent was a transfer request, but not the copies of documents. So, then we went back, gave the man what he wanted and he signed his name. However, we're not done yet. At some point, I stopped listening, because it was almost 3 and I hadn't eaten yet, but I gather we have to go back and complete the process after Durga Puja a giant holiday that's coming up in October.

Melinda and Sarah's Tuesday Adventures

2011-09-13T08:10:00.000-07:00

Here's a sample of the randomness of my life.

Late August:
One day, as Melinda and I were returning from a trip, we got into the car and had the following conversation with our friend.

Friend: There is just a small problem.
Us: What?
Friend: The brakes don't work.

Fortunately, what he meant was the brakes are starting to have problems. All we needed was some brake fluid.

Two weeks ago:
We discovered the Freshman aka "Freshers" social night. As Melinda and I were leaving our Bangla class one Tuesday night, we heard what sounded like an outdoor concert and decided to investigate. What we discovered confirms the validity of my personal philosophy that one should always, always, always, follow the music. There was a small lot with a stage that had a huge banner which read FRESHERS. Several people (presumably the freshers) were standing around or attempting to score soccer goals. Representatives of each of the university's departments came and gave performances, usually accompanied by loud music and always with a fog machine. Some boys from the physical education department got up there in uncomfortably short shorts and did some impressive yoga and strength moves. One of them put his foot all the way behind his head. While it's true the performers were quite strong and flexible, I now have absolutely no desire to participate in any physical education program, so I'm not sure they achieved their goal... Another boy from a department which I can't recall got up and flung himself about the stage with great enthusiasm to very fast music and techno lights. The worm was involved, as it should have been. I believe Melinda has video clips of some of these performances which will be uploaded shortly, or not so shortly depending on the speed of my internet connection. Oh my goodness. People. ALWAYS. Follow. The Music.

Last Week:
Last Tuesday, we discovered the awesomeness of Mr. Kumar our Bangla teacher. It was Teacher's Day, so some of the Korean students collected money and bought gifts and food for a class party. (Side note: Koreans are possibly the sweetest people ever. I have yet to meet one I don't like.) We sang Happy Teacher's Day instead of Happy Birthday, took a class picture, and talked about what we liked best about our class. Then, as we were discussing Mr. Kumar's excellent art skills - he's always drawing pretty pictures on the chalk board - we discovered that he also studied under one of India's best pantomime artists. Obviously, a demonstration was necessary. He did walking, stairs, smoking, drinking tea, and an impersonation of a thief climbing a rope, among others. He actually is pretty good.

Today:
I very nearly witnessed a death while in an auto on the way home. After class, I went to the mall to get some dinner, and then got in an auto. Normally, the 5 minute trip to my house is uneventful. Today, however, the driver was impatient and mad at the world. He zoomed off at the first opportunity only to be forced to slow down by the inevitable traffic jam. The auto was stuck behind a taxi that was trying to turn, so the driver laid on his horn and did his best to get around it. But, he misjudged the distance between his auto and the taxi, and hit it. Thankfully, we were going pretty slow. We got by and proceeded to barrel down the road. Until, we came around a curve and an old man appeared in front of us. We came within inches of hitting him at quite a high speed. I'm not convinced the man would have died, but it would have done some damage for sure. Then, the auto driver stopped so he could engage in a shouting match with the man he nearly ran over due to his reckless driving. It was really irritating. If you're not going to apologize, just shut up and keep going. I was greatly relieved when I finally made it home in one piece and without witnessing anything traumatic.

Apparently, Tuesday is the day for strange things to happen to us. Only the first incident occurred on a different day.

Sarah Attends an American Town Hall Meeting

2011-08-22T11:32:00.000-07:00

Melinda is out of town this week at meeting I have no part in. That means I have the whole house to myself! Woo! Anyway, that explains why Melinda's name does not appear in the title of this post.

Today, the US Consulate in Kolkata hosted a Town Hall meeting for American citizens. A friend of mine heard about it, and we were like hey a chance to meet more Americans and get free food. Let's do this thing. Four of us went. Basically what happens at these meetings is representatives from the consulate come tell you about the services they can provide and tips for staying safe in the city. It's fairly boring and mostly stuff you already know. But THEN, they open the floor for questions and that, my friends, makes the whole thing worth your time. The first attendee to ask a question began with this long winded speech about how there were elderly Americans who were home bound and had no internet she wanted to know what the consulate had offer them. It was kind of hard to follow her and ascertain what her point was exactly, but basically she wanted the consulate to establish a daycare center for the elderly. The speaker politely informed her that he neither the money nor the staff to provide such a service. Another man complained the education systems in India and America are quite different and wanted to know what the consulate could do to provide American schooling for his children. It seems to me this is something you should take into consideration before you move. But what do I know? I heard a lady sitting in front of me mutter, "Go back to America." under her breath. Again, the speaker politely recommended some homeschooling websites and schools run by NGOs the man could try. My personal favorite was the man who said he had two homes and was afraid of being robbed. He then asked if the consulate's security services could provide a guard for his personal residences. The security guy did an admirable job of laughing in attendee's face, though I think he really wanted to. His response: I am the department. So, I cannot personally come and patrol your house. My thoughts are, if you can afford two homes, one of which is in a very nice part of Kolkata, you can afford to hire a guard. A lady in the audience suggested that this man go and acquaint himself with the local police so that they would know him personally if he ever had a problem. Then, an Indian-American audience member made the comment that this plan probably wouldn't work as people don't normally do that and you can wait all day at the station before some will agree to meet you. (I happen to think this man is correct.) The woman apparently was seriously offended that anyone might contradict her. She proceeded to yell at the guy for thinking she was stupid, and then basically said that if he wouldn't condescend to visit the police station, maybe the police would not want to come to his house. So there. The man dealt with the situation quite well, and simply said that they would have to agree to disagree. (Wherever you are sir, I applaud you.) There were some more questions and a quiz about random American trivia. I now know that the Styx started out in Chicago, and Wyoming is the least populous state in America, with about 500,000 residents. I'm totally moving there when I get back. Afterwards, we had tea and refreshments. It was mostly Indian food, which I have to admit was slightly disappointing, but they did have rolls. I hadn't had rolls in almost a year, and I had forgotten how much I like them. We did meet other Americans and found out that an American Center exists where they occasionally have entertaining events. I liked it on facebook so it would keep me posted.

Melinda and Sarah Go Wading Through Villages

2011-08-22T10:30:00.000-07:00

Last week, Melinda and I went visiting in villages. We went with a translator and two guides who know the area. It is currently rainy season and in the area we visited the rains have been quite heavy. To the right is a picture of one road we drove down on the way. We were in a van that was really high off the ground and sometimes I wasn't sure we would make it. The next day, we had a little bit of engine trouble, and Melinda and I were thinking "Well, we sunk the van..." I feel like if I had been walking and stepped in pothole I might have gone completely underwater. But maybe that's an exaggeration. There were men fishing on the edges because their ponds had overflowed and since the road was slightly slanted one side had a current. Fortunately, other roads were not that bad.
When we got to the villages, our guide said, "Now, this is going to be a little muddy is that ok?" Yeah. Sure, we can handle mud. By the end of the day, we had mud absolutely everywhere. At one point we were wading through water and mud up to our knees and that was the "good road". The other roads don't bear thinking about...

Our guides were extremely concerned about us lest we should fall and world come crashing to an end. They were always asking if we were ok and one of the ladies was holding onto me at almost all times. At first, the lady would hold my arm right by the elbow, which is really awkward to begin with and as time passed, her grip would get tighter and tighter until it became painful. I was thinking, um... this is actually making it more difficult to stand up. Finally, I said "It would be better if you held my hand." Melinda has better balance and walks faster than I do, so a lot of the guides' concern was focused on me. There were many conversations, in Bangla, about my ability to walk, including the following:

A: Is Sarah doing ok?

B: Yes, she's doing much better now.

Sometimes, I was doing well and sometimes, I was decidedly not doing well. We had a lot of fun though. We plan to go out visiting again in future, but probably after the rainy season.

Melinda and Sarah Embrace the Rainy Season

2011-08-10T01:49:00.000-07:00

Melinda and I have done a lot of traveling recently. On the first of this month we went to Bangalore, which I always try to spell Banglalore, but that is not correct. We spent 2 1/2 days with some friends of ours. They live just outside of the city in a typical American-style house located in a gated community. It was quiet, there were kids riding scooters down empty streets. It felt so much like the US it was weird. My favorite part of the house by far is that nearly every room had a bay window with curtains in front of it, that created perfect reading nooks. If I ever get my dream house it's going to include a giant Beauty and the Beast inspired library, reading nooks, and a couch swing. Yup. A couch, attached to the ceiling, that swings. (I'm pretty sure that's not technically a sentence, but I don't care.) Also, the temperature in Bangalore was about 75 degrees in the daytime. Melinda and I woke up shivering every morning. It was wonderful. Bangalore also has Taco Bell! It doesn't really taste like America, but after a year without it, Indian Taco Bell was great. I had a chicken quesadilla and a crunchy chicken taco. They don't serve beef.

We returned home late Friday night and then left Saturday to go work on a housing project we're helping with. The goal is to build sturdy houses for people who lost their homes in a hurricane a few years ago. On this trip we were surveying to see who needed help the most. That was an adventure. It's rainy season here, so the ground is just mud. Melinda and I slipped, slid, and stumbled across paths and down mud coated stair steps consisting of single bricks, with the entire village following behind. Some of the homes we are going to rebuild (and relocate) are presently sitting in ponds. And many are made of bamboo poles and tarp. It definitely makes you rethink your definition of house. The houses we're providing are really just four brick walls, a window, a door, and a tin roof, situated on top of a 3 foot high concrete foundation. And the whole thing is 10 1/2 by 12 square feet. That may not seem like much, but it's a big step up from what the families have now. We may also add a small verandah but only if the budget allows it. The survey trip lasted 2 days. By some miracle, we managed not to fall on our faces and returned home Saturday night.

Before I left, my aunt gave me an India travel guide. The picture of my city was a of a rickshaw puller pulling his rickshaw down a road through water that reached his knees. Why that picture was used in a travel guide is still a mystery to me, but I have now witnessed it in real life. Sunday and Monday it rained all day and flooded some of the lowest parts of the city. For example, this road in front of our supervisor George's house.

We took a bus over there not suspecting anything as our part of town is fine, and then realized that we would have to cross two rivers to get to his apartment building. At first, we tried to roll up our pant legs and stay dry, but a then a car passed and created a wave, so our efforts were in vain. Fording the road was kinda fun though. Definitely a new experience. We were able to borrow dry clothes from George's roommate Antu so we didn't have spend our entire time there in soaked pants. George let us use his car and driver to get home. On the way, we passed some kids literally swimming in the road. Epic. Gross, because I don't even want to think about what was on that road. But Epic.

Melinda, Sarah, and Their Friend Go On A Light Bulb Hunt

2011-04-30T09:51:00.000-07:00

Yup, that's right. Sadly, as you get older you have to trade in Easter egg hunts for light bulb hunts. Unfortunately, I was never very good at finding things.

Tonight, our friend invited us to go to New Market, an endless maze of tiny shops where you can find almost anything you need for cheap prices, and enjoy the carnival-like atmosphere. If you go at night the disco lights are even more vivid. First, we went to some shoe shops so our friend could get a gift. I love shoes. And my feet are tiny which works out well since I finally live in a place where most of the women are my size. Who knew that would ever happen? Anyway, the point is I got some new shoes! Converse for $8. In this country, I wear a size 35. I'm not sure if that makes me feel better than wearing a size 3 in the States or not... After I bought shoes, we went on the quest for the light bulbs. All we had was the actual bulb we needed to replace. So our friend went around showing it to different light fixture sellers. And they kept pointing us to different places. Along the way, our friend bought us these awesome chicken and egg wraps. They make this flat bread and fry an egg on it, then they add chicken, onions, and an amazing spicy sauce. I think it's my favorite Indian food so far. We also found ice cream and a bouncy ball with a smiley face inside that flashes multi-colored lights when you bounce it. It's kind of embarrassing how excited I was about that thing. Oh, we did finally find the light bulbs, and then we went home. Hopefully, another Day of Fun is around the corner.

Sarah Goes Shoe Shopping... Sadly, Melinda Misses Out

2011-04-09T03:35:00.000-07:00

You may recall that my shoes were stolen recently. Thus, I have been on a quest to find comfortable new ones. Indian women do not believe in comfortable shoes. The soles are thin, hard, and not made for people who have to walk in them. Finally, I found some shoes that a little padding, and I bought them. But, they turned out to be slightly too small, and gave me blisters. So, I took them back. I just wanted a bigger size, but the next size up was too big, so I asked if I could return them. The first guy didn't understand, so he got a younger guy to come help me. He said I couldn't return the shoes, but I could exchange them for any other pair. When I went to try the shoes on, he insisted upon helping me put them on my feet. Think Cinderella. I hate feet. I don't want anyone to have to mess with mine, so I tried to do it myself. He sad, and I quote, "Oh no madame, this is our job, and we LOVE do it." Ok then, I glad you do. It was pretty awkward. He even put back on the shoes I already owned. I don't think that's part of his job... I have a new pair of shoes, but I have no idea if they fit correctly. I'm still working up the courage to wear them for an extended time period. Oh life.

Melinda and Sarah Have 5th Graders For Neighbors

2011-04-07T07:19:00.000-07:00

Some of the residents in our apartment complex are involved in a conflict with the President of the group that owns the property. A major part of the argument stems from the fact that lots of people want to build a shrine to Shiva in the courtyard, and a few people oppose the idea. Anyway, the President and a certain Mr. M have been circulating a series of angry letters to all the residents. Just to give you a little taste of what this is like, here is a brief summary of the latest letter from the President to Mr. M (and everyone else):

Mr M,

You are mentally sick. We all know that you do nothing good, and are only causing trouble because you are allergic to the success of the committee. The only reason I do not press charges on account of your libelous letter is because you are old, feeble, and helpless.

As for me, I pray that the Almighty will forgive you and watch over us.

Warmest greetings,

President ---

Warmest greetings? Yeah right. And isn't it kind of juvenile to be sending letters back and forth to everyone? Yes, welcome to 5th grade South Asia style.

Melinda and Sarah Are About To Need A Transfusion

2011-04-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

April 2, 2011

INDIA WON THE CRICKET WORLD CUP!!!! It was a very close game against Sri Lanka which India came from behind to win. Melinda and I were scrunched up in our chairs holding our breath, praying, and adhering to crazy superstitions we developed during the 8 hours the game lasted. (You might think I’m exaggerating the time thing but I’m really not.) For example, the first two times Melinda left her seat while India was batting, the Sri Lankans got wickets. (They got the batter out.) The third time she got up, a really good Sri Lankan bowler (pitcher) entered the game, and I seriously contemplated yelling for her to get back in her chair. After that she didn’t leave again. Then we decided that India did better when I wasn’t looking at the tv, so I read a book and watched the replays of all the good stuff that happened. I know it’s ridiculous but we couldn’t help ourselves. After the game, our landlord’s daughter came over and leapt into Melinda’s arms. Our landlord’s wife gave us hugs and her daughter passed out chocolate, there was much jumping and yelling and general euphoria. Then we all rushed downstairs to see the celebration outside. As before there were parades, fireworks, random (small) explosions, and a lot of people doing stupid stuff like standing on the seat of their friend’s motorcycle with their arms straight out to the side as they flew down the road. I really wanted to kick into mom-gear and grab that boy and say “Sit down! Sit up straight! And put your hands on the bike, you moron!”

The last time India won the World Cup was in 1983. And this is the first time in history that 2 Asian teams have played in the final. I understand Australia has pretty much dominated the Cricket scene in the recent past, and I’m sure England has won the title as well.

Tonight was really exciting and I’m so glad I got to experience it. Honestly though, I think the Indians were more excited about beating Pakistan last Wednesday. As my landlord’s family put it, Pakistan is their “arch-enemy” and the Cricket game between them was “war”. I wonder what the world would be like if all international conflicts could be resolved through sporting events….

Melinda and Sarah Bleed Blue

2011-04-03T08:04:00.000-07:00

March 30, 2011

Note: The Indian Cricket team’s uniforms are blue. I have no idea why since there is almost no blue in the Indian flag, but who am I to question the wisdom of the ICC (International Cricket Something or other)?

Ladies and Gentlemen, INDIA is going to the Cricket World Cup final! And they beat Pakistan to get there! Oh my goodness, who knew I would ever be so excited about Cricket? The entire country is now celebrating. There are fireworks and parades and lots of cheering people running down the street with flags and drums. Melinda and I watched the game, and then we were watching the celebration from my bedroom window. (Living on a major road, we get to experience the celebration in full.) So anyway, we were watching the fireworks and debating whether or not to go outside and get a better view, when Melinda says “That’s not a firework! That’s a bomb! Like a cherry bomb! That’s not safe at all…” Of course that settled it. We immediately proceeded outside. At first, we stood near some cops on their motorcycle. Then later, our landlord came down with his daughter, as well as our American friends who live in the same building. The atmosphere was exhilarating. People were dancing and yelling, and we were screaming “Go India!”, and taking hundreds of pictures. (Not me, Emily, but my friends) which I will get and post soon. I saw all these people go by on motorcycles driving fast and not holding on to anything. One man took his took his hands off the wheel and leaned all the way the back so he was looking up at the sky. I wanted to alternate between yelling “YAY India!” and “Put your hands back on the wheel!!!” My friend actually got interviewed by a 24 hour Indian news service. The rest of us were in the background. The reporter asked where we were from, whether we actually understood Cricket, and what we thought about India beating Pakistan. (The rivalry can be just a tad intense.) Since we were being mobbed pretty much throughout the entire interview and could barely hear the questions, I’m sure we looked stunning and sounded incredibly intelligent. It’s now after midnight and I have so much energy it might as well be the middle of the afternoon. The final is on Saturday against Sri Lanka. God save us if we win.

In other news, we toured a mosque last Thursday and my shoes got stolen. My Merrills got stolen which were my most comfortable and practical shoes. Our language coordinator wanted to take us on a cultural outing. So we went to Nakoda mosque, which is over 100 years old and very pretty. Before you enter, you have to take your shoes off, and generally someone guards them. After our tour, we returned to find that my shoes and our LCs shoes had been stolen. We asked the guards, who were in front of the shoe room if they knew what happened to them. Of course not. It’s their job to guard the mosque, not the shoes. Anyway, it turns out there’s a shoe store located in the back of the mosque. It seems a bit too convenient, I know, but I honestly don’t think they had anything to do with the theft. After some debate about whether or not it was ok for a woman to walk across the courtyard of their religious establishment, we set off. I guess our tour guide had already taken us to areas where women technically weren’t supposed to be, so what difference does the courtyard make? I’m sure you all have gathered by now that my luck in this country is not good. To get to the shoe store, we had to go through the men’s latrine. May I remind you, I HAD NO SHOES. My LC was able to use an extra pair but of course, they only had one pair of men’s shoes that were too big for me… The ground was covered in dirt and some of it was most definitely damp. I looked straight ahead and walked as quickly as possible. By the time we arrived at the store, I was determined to leave with shoes. Surprisingly, I actually found some cute ones that claim to be Pumas. My LC paid for them, but even then they only cost about $3. YAY!

Melinda and Sarah Are Not To Be Trusted

2011-03-22T00:25:00.000-07:00

March 21

No one believes us. We say it is possible to get internet and they say no. We say it is possible to make a pizza that is half cheese half pepperoni and they tell us it is not possible. Apparently, what is not possible is thinking just a tiny bit outside of the box. Sigh.

We are slowly but surely making progress on getting an internet connection. As you know from the title of my last blog, Melinda and I are learning the “Indian system”. Therefore, we have brought candy or soda every time we’ve been to the BSNL office. We’ve talked about our families, what we study, and where in India the employees have been on vacation. By our third trip, we realized we needed to bring every official document we possess plus at least 3 passport size photos. (If you’re ever planning to move overseas be sure to bring at least 5 bazillion passport photos. You will need several of them for everything you do.) We brought the original copy of our lease as proof of address, a letter from Jadavpur University stating that I am in fact a student there. (The internet subscription is in my name.) This letter eventually included my full name, (never leave out your middle name!) my passport number, and my visa number. It was signed and stamped by the director of the Foreign Student Office and included a passport size photo which I pasted on and signed. I brought copies of my passport and visa as well as my actual passport and visa, two passport size photos, and finally, an application for a landline and a broadband connection. The first problem we encountered was that I failed to tell the secretary to put my middle name in the letter from Jadavpur. There may just be a Sarah Blake and a Sarah Beth Blake wandering around who look identical and live at the same address. But I managed to convince one of the employees that we are in fact the same person. The second problem was that we failed to include our address in the letter from Jadavpur. Apparently, the official lease is not convincing proof of address. The ladies of Room 2, who had been helping us thus far, were ready to approve our application but their boss would not accept our letter without the address. We tried to talk some sense into him, but he’s retiring in 2 months and has no desire to do his job anymore. So, we returned to the Foreign Student Office and asked them to retype the letter to include my middle name and our address. Finally, our application was approved and we were invited to tea in Room 2. As we were leaving BSNL we noticed a sign admonishing people to “Fight to eradicate corruption from our society”. Considering that BSNL has made it as difficult as possible to get internet, refused to do their jobs, and asked our friends for bribes, this sign’s presence in the office makes it the very definition of the word ironic. Incredibly, someone came out the next day with our phone and modem. Now, we are waiting to have our phone line and modem connected. Hopefully, this will be done by the end of the week.

Today, I went to Vodaphone to put my minutes on my cell. There’s a kiosk where you enter your information and the amount of rupees you want to spend and then it charges your phone. I wanted to put 500 rupees ($11) on my cell. Halfway through the process a doorman comes over and asks what I want. (As a foreigner, I am incapable of doing anything by myself.) I told him. He asked how much I wanted to spend. I told him. He said, “Oh no madam, the machine does not support that.” Yes it does. “No it doesn’t.” I tried to insert my money in spite of him, but blocked the money slot, insisting it wouldn’t work. I said, “Every time I come here I spend the same amount and it always works.” He told me to wait 2 minutes and went to ask someone else if I was right. I was. Finally, I allowed to pay and I showed the doorman the text that proved my phone had been recharged. My goodness, sometimes I wish people had a little faith in me. On the bright side, after we get internet, our house will be completely set up. Yay!

Also, I recently borrowed an exercise DVD from a friend. It is Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred. I love it. There’s really no place to exercise here except the super expensive workout space in our apartment building and I was starting to feel like all I did was eat and sit. It feels so good to be active again! However, I am super out of shape and I have no hand weights, so instead I use jars of peanut butter. I have to convince myself not to get out a spoon when I’m done. So far, so good though. I am not convinced that Jillian Michaels is “in the same boat” that I am, or that she and her physically perfect friends are really “feeling it”. Oh well.

Update!

2011-03-06T00:16:00.000-08:00

I got my package yesterday! The postman actually delivered it to my flat! It was glorious. Thank you everyone for the cards, birthday gifts, pounds of chocolate and other things. You are amazing and I love you. The postman seems to be very nice. He brought the package once at 11 am, but Melinda and I were "out of station". Imagine, women who leave their home during the day! So, he left a message with the guard in the lobby. When Melinda got there he said, "You're package is coming at 3 p.m. Please, be at home!" At 3 pm, the postman came again. I wasn't there, but Melinda was. When she signed for the package he said, "Melinda Merriman... You are not Sarah Blake." Melinda explained that I live there too, and the postman was like, "Well, sign 'for Sarah Blake'". I don't know if this is normal or we just got lucky. Maybe the post office recognized the address or tracking number and remembered us... It may be that they were just tried of seeing our shining faces in their office or hearing our lovely voices on their phone every single day. In any case, I hope the guy comes again next time. Melinda is expecting a package for her birthday soon...

Melinda and Sarah Learn the "Indian System"

2011-03-06T00:03:00.000-08:00

I suppose I should write you and give an update on my flat. I am happy to report that it is mostly repaired, with the exception of the water heater in my bathroom, which I probably won’t need in a few weeks anyway. The bugs have been exterminated, and we have a gas stove, microwave, and toaster oven to cook with. We also have cable television and recently I got curtains that actually fit my windows. As an added bonus, I now wake up to a golden glow created by the sun shining through the yellow fabric. The tv is really loud, even if you have it on volume 1, but that’s ok! The traffic noise in my bedroom blocks the sound from the tv! Our latest adventures have been trying to get internet and a package.

First the internet:

We are trying to get a connection through BSNL, because the server that was previously tried turned out to be horrible. So Melinda, our friend Kayla, and I journeyed down to the office armed with our passports, passport photos, and our lease as proof of address. We presented all our documents, said what we needed, and then a confused looking employee said: “Are you an Indian citizen? Where is your passport or ID?” Um… I have an American passport? Despite some obvious indicators that we are not, in fact, citizens of India, we were asked repeatedly for Indian passports or ID cards and then they informed us that we cannot get internet unless we are Indian citizens. I know this is not true. I can think of at least 4 Americans who have internet through BSNL, Kayla, who was present with us at the time, is one of them. Sadly, they could not be persuaded to help us. So, a day or two later, we returned with our Indian friend Antu. When we jokingly asked him how to become Indian citizens, his completely deadpan response was “You have to get married.” So, there you have it. I’m officially on the hunt for an Indian husband so I can get things accomplished in this country. Another Indian in line turned around and said, “You just pay off a local politician. You can get passports, driver’s licenses, IDs, anything.” Even the combined efforts of Antu speaking Bangla and Melinda and I passing out candy in the office could not get us internet. Soon, (hopefully) we will return again with letters from our university stating that we are in fact students there and a notarized copy of our lease. And so, the saga continues… In the meantime, we did discover wireless in the mall. J

The Post Office:

My wonderful family and friends sent me a package on Valentine’s Day. It is now March 4, so it should be here I think. On March 1, Melinda and I walked to the post office nearest us. It is called Tollygunge HPO. At the time, I didn’t know if my family had a tracking number. So, it was kind of a long shot, but what the heck. Upon arrival, we started asking friendly looking employees for assistance, and of course they asked for a tracking number which I didn’t have and wasn’t sure existed. Eventually we were sent to the office of the post master himself, where we were informed that the post office has no way of knowing if there is a package there for me, and furthermore if they do know, it is not their responsibility to inform me that the package has arrived. Just what exactly the responsibilities of the post office are remains to be seen. I texted my mom and sister and got a tracking number. One of them got online and discovered the package is presently somewhere in India. So, after waiting a day to recover from my first traumatic experience with the post office, I went back and presented my tracking number. I was then told my package was at the Foreign Post Office. I hailed a taxi and proceeded across town. Not many people know where the Foreign Post Office is because not many Indians have to go there. Thus, the taxi dropped me off at the General Post Office which is nearby. After wandering for a while, I found an entrance to the GPO, and got a lady to write down some directions, which summarized were: Strand Rd opposite New Secretariat Building. At that point I had only three questions: What road am I on? Where is Strand Rd? How far down it is the New Secretariat Building? But the lady didn’t or couldn’t answer these questions, so off I went. I probably wandered around for about half an hour asking different people for directions, before I heard, in English, “I think she’s lost.” I turned, looked around, and thought, why yes, I am lost. Help. I finally got slightly better directions from a friendly man, which I followed until I randomly stumbled across the tiny, hole in the wall, Foreign Post Office. It pretty much looks like a disorganized stock room with a few computers. There were no signs telling me what to do, and no one offered me any assistance, except a super enthusiastic, toothless, old man who really wanted me to sign in, which I did. I went up the stairs to the first floor, where I saw several people seated at desks behind walls, which were clearly marked NO ADMITTANCE. I tried waiting for someone to help me, but no one did. I find the most effective way to get help here is to blithely stroll into restricted areas. And so I did. And then people rushed to my aid. I was sent to the 2^nd floor where I found much the same situation, and responded exactly as I had before. Finally, I got to office of customer service, a tiny, unmarked room on the 3^rd floor. The man told me my package was at the Tollygunge post office. After, explaining that I had already been there that morning, he called Tollygunge. I was told that the package was on its way but hadn’t arrived yet. I went home called Tollygunge HPO, and they said it was at RMS Kolkata, which as it turns out is Kolkata Railway Mailing System. I’m hoping that the package is on its way to me. As of this afternoon, it still has not left the railway station. At least if I never get it it’s not from lack of trying.

And finally, the quotes of the week:

“Yes, I am the first white-skinned, blond-haired, blue-eyed, American passport holding, Indian citizen EVER!” – Kayla

“You must speak Bangla loudly at home!” – Bangla teacher, Mr. Kumar.

Melinda and Sarah Attempt to Live in their New Flat

2011-02-12T23:01:00.000-08:00

February 12, 2011

Day 3 of crazy apartment situation. Still no internet. Things have improved since we got here on Thursday. Friday morning we went to visit our landlords. I cannot remember their names, but they seem to be a very nice couple. We told them about all the problems and they immediately started making phone calls. Apparently the building has its own plumber and electrician with whom we are rapidly becoming best friends. The electrician has been here 3 times today and it’s not even noon yet. We did get foam for our beds. The plugs all work now so far and so does my toilet. Melinda’s handle still shoots water everywhere, but (hopefully) the plumber is in the process of repairing it. The exterminator is coming in about 2 hours.

Last night, I discovered that my shower head shoots water way off to the left, the water actually comes out of the side of the shower head instead of going down. And the water heater (aka geezer) doesn’t work. The landlords are going to buy both of them. The laundry machine is here but not hooked up yet. It’s a really good thing I had some extra clothes in the suitcase I left here when I went to language school, because everything else is dirty. I think we’ll be doing laundry for days when the machine gets set up. I did find a broom yesterday. I have never been so excited about sweeping in my whole life. Now my feet don’t turn black when I walk around the apartment. Just a shade of light brown. And we got the rest of our luggage and plug adapters so I have a phone now. Yay!

P.S. You all should know that while writing this blog ‘I Will Survive’ by CAKE randomly started playing on I-tunes. It knows things…

Melinda and Sarah Shift to a New Flat

2011-02-12T22:58:00.000-08:00

February 10

Tonight is my first night in my very first apartment. And it’s in India. Yup that’s right folks. Sometimes I’m amazed at how life turns out. Since this is my very first night in my very first apartment, which is located in India, I am remaining positive. I will not think about the fact that we badly need an exterminator to come and take care of the cockroaches crawling up our water pipes. Tonight, I will forget that there is an electrical plug which has popped off the wall in my bathroom leaving all the wires exposed. I will forget that the plug in the kitchen doesn’t work, we have no microwave, no oven, no stove, and no gas to cook with. I will not consider the fact that the floors and furniture are filthy, but we don’t have a broom, or that our counters and table tops are covered in unwashed dishes. I will ignore the fact that my toilet is broken, and when you flush Melinda’s toilet water shoots out of the handle. We have no internet and my phone is about to die, but our Indian plug adapter is locked in someone else’s apartment. So, I have no way to contact my family or friends, but that’s not important. The mattress on my bed might be an inch thick but apparently foam to sleep on is not included in the apartment setup. Not to worry though, I’ve been told, and I quote, “After about 2 weeks your back will stop hurting.” None of these things will depress me, or make me wish I was still in my language city with my friends, comfortable bug free room, and functional plumbing and electricity. I am being positive. I am thinking about the fact that my apartment is in town, as opposed to the middle of nowhere where it used to be. I have a super cute colorful new bedspread, and my own room for the first time since October. Tomorrow, I will wake up and demand that we get an exterminator, plumber, and electrician in here ASAP. And I will start figuring out the internet situation. I will have access to the rest of my luggage, including plug adapters. Melinda and I will do everything we can to get someone to buy foam for our beds. If all else fails, we’ll buy it ourselves. Forty-five dollars is worth a good night’s rest to me. I will think about the fact that I have the opportunity to make new friends, start new projects, and attend a church where English is spoken. I will thoroughly enjoy being able to stay up as late as I want and not having to go to bed when Melinda is tired. Tonight is my very first night, in my very first apartment, and I’m determined to like it.

Melinda and Sarah Get Roped into Babysitting

2011-01-21T05:38:00.000-08:00

Just so you all know, my blog website keeps switching the language into Bangla. Today I read it and figured out how to sign in without having to reset anything. Success! It's the small things that count.

Last Thursday, an important meeting was held in my city and everyone had to be there. Volunteers had come in to provide childcare for the event. Wednesday night, the volunteers got sick. So, guess who got a knock on their door at 7 am Thursday morning? ... If you guessed 'Sarah and Melinda', congratulations! You are correct! Sadly, there is no prize. We agreed to come around 10 am, after language class. As a rule, I like kids. But there are a LOT of kids in this city and babysitting from 10 - 2 was not exactly how I had planned to spend my day. There were 6 boys between 5 and 9 years old and one 2 year old girl. (That's not all of the kids, most of the older ones were in school.) Maybe 5 minutes after her mother left, the 2 year old became very aware that she was being babysat. She immediately set out to find her mother. The only problem was that she was going to wrong way. The meeting was held at the American Club and on one side of the campus, a preschool was having its sports day. Seeing other parents, the little girl incorrectly assumed her mother was over there too. I tried to convince her otherwise, but babysitters are not to be trusted and she ran away from me. I actually had to chase her down and carry her screaming away from where she thought her mom was. I'm sure I had absolutely convinced her that she would never see her family again. I imagine everyone within 20 miles was convinced of that fact too. As the poor child was being carried to certain doom, she finally lost control and had an accident.... in my arms... all over me... within the first 5 minutes of my day. I love kids. Upon delivering her to safety, I asked if anyone had extra clothes. The mother, understandably concerned for her daughter, replied that yes, she did have another outfit for her. No, no, I meant for me. Thank God, one of the other ladies had sweat pants and a jacket.

Later, a frog was discovered, dug up, and then rescued by Melinda from the boys who kept smashing it with a plastic sand shovel, because they said "frogs pee poison". Who teaches these kids science? One little boy got hit by a ball in a very sensitive spot, and later that same boy was told by someone that his family had gone home and left him. This, of course, was not true. His dad and sister had left, but his mom was still there. I would have taken him to his mom immediately, but of course Melinda had gone to the restroom and there were still 5 other kids who couldn't be left unattended. The second Melinda came back she took the distraught little boy inside and showed him his mom.

We were told that this meeting would be over at 2. At that time, we started telling the kids, who were repeatedly asking, that their parents would be there any minute. At 2:45, I was ready to escort all of them into the meeting. The children were beginning to doubt us.

On the bright side, I got to see my uncle and he brought everyone marshmallows. Now the question is, should we eat them immediately or save them to make rice krispies treats later? Decisions.. Decisions...

Holiday Highlights

2011-01-01T06:56:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! And welcome to Sarah’s official Holiday Highlight Blog! We shall begin with Thanksgiving: Melinda and I had class on Thursday, so unfortunately, we missed out on the official celebration. However, one of the cooks at the guest house made us chicken strips, mashed potatoes, crescent rolls, and amazing apple pie. Then our Language Coordinator invited us to her family’s house for a post-Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving. We had traditional foods. No turkey though. It’s not really available, but there was ham and more amazing apple pie. Melinda and I also helped decorate their Christmas tree. Plus we got leftovers, overs so that makes 3 Thanksgivings in one year. J

Christmas season kicked off with “caroling” at the local church. You might think this means that a group of people got together and sang songs like ‘Silent Night’ or ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’, possibly while walking through their community. You would be completely, totally, and utterly wrong. But don’t worry so was I. What actually happened was a massive Christmas rave, complete with heart pounding drums, a fog machine, and techno lights. The whole church was dancing, including the pastor and his wife. There was a men’s circle and a ladies’ circle, and the two never mixed. At one point, they made Melinda and I join them. I can’t say that I actually “danced” I’m not that coordinated, but the ladies had fun dragging me around the floor.

Then there was the Pre-Christmas party at the girls’ school. The girls played games, did a skit, had a birthday cake, and performed some traditional Bangla dances. They also did two traditional American dances: the Macarena performed to the song Cotton-Eyed Joe, and the Mexican Hat Dance. Epic.

On December 20, we went to a town on the border of India for another Christmas party. To get there we took a night bus. It left at 10:30 pm. and the idea was that we would sleep on the 8 hr. journey there. HA. We took an Air-conditioned bus, because that means better quality. Little did we know, they would leave the A/C on all night in spite of the fact that it was December. The windows were also left open. However, Melinda and I were graciously provided with one blanket for the two of us. It was freezing and I did not sleep at all. If I never do that again it will be too soon. We got to town at 6 am, slept about four hours, and proceeded to the Christmas party. It was a huge meal, with some speakers. But, we did meet some of the ladies who will come to our classes later, so that was exciting. Afterward, we drove to India to meet some friends.

On Christmas Eve, we had dinner with our friends the Smith’s. Then Christmas Day, everyone went to George’s apartment. George is Melinda and I’s supervisor. He bought stockings and presents for everyone on his team, and the other guests as well. I got several movies, and a t shirt. George also made a big meal, basically Thanksgiving all over again, this time including turkey. And we read the Christmas story.

On New Year’s Eve, we went back to Smith’s for pizza, dessert, and games. Their apartment complex was hosting a huge party. They hired some bands, a dance troop, and constructed a stage, and a dance floor in the courtyard. All afternoon and night, there was really loud music, and lots of colorful lights. The Smith’s two year old son thought it was a giant birthday party. After the party got started, four of us decided to go down and try to join it. It was supposed to cost 650 rupees, but none of us wanted to pay $15 to get in. So, we decided to just walk in and see what happened. At first, we were stopped and told to stand by the gate. Then, after a few minutes, the guard told us to go enjoy ourselves. There are some perks to being the local oddities. We definitely danced to Bon Jovi’s ‘It’s My Life’ and ‘The Summer of 69. We left after a while, but then came back for the countdown. The second time, someone actually moved people out of the way so that we could have better access to the dance floor. I guess we were just that good. :P The first song we danced to in 2011 was ‘Jail House Rock’. Followed by ‘Footloose’, something Michael Jackson wrote, Justin Beiber, and ‘Low’ by Flo Rida, and songs from Bollywood. There were also fireworks. Who would’ve thought that my first New Year’s Eve dance party would happen in India? Life is so weird.

Melinda and Sarah Experience a Home Stay

2010-11-22T03:05:00.000-08:00

This is the second of two blogs about our 5 days spent living with a national family. You should go read the first one.

WARNING: THIS BLOG CONTAINS A LONG STORY ABOUT POOP. Yup, that's right, poop. I'm sorry, but I live in South Asia, where we discuss our bodily functions as if we were discussing the weather. This was bound to happen eventually. You have been warned.

But first some other things. The Barois have a nice house just a short distance from the town center of Shavar. It was quiet and peaceful, and we had our own rooms for the first time in almost 2 months. In addition to the wedding, we went to church with them, participated in their family devotions, met some of their friends, watched soap operas in Bangla, as well as the weddings of their two oldest sons on DVD, and enjoyed pleasant strolls through the village. On one such walk, we overheard the following conversation between two little boys, who had probably never seen a westerner in their lives:

Boy 1 (in Bangla): What is that?
Boy 2 (gasps): Bideshi! (Foreigner!)

We also shared every meal with them. Mr. and Mrs. Baroi kept insisting that we eat more and more and nothing we did or said could convince them that was absolutely impossible. As a result, we probably each consumed enough rice for two people at every meal. Melinda finally asked Mr. Baroi how to say that we were full, but unfortunately, not before we clogged the toilet.

The house was a new construction, only 4 or 5 months old, and we don't think the toilets were installed correctly, because they were having water pressures issues from the beginning. We hoped that maybe if we just kept flushing, the poop would go down, but eventually we realized it was not going to happen. Then we set out to inquire if there was a plunger in the house. Mr. Baroi speaks good English, but he had never heard of a plunger. He thought it was a part of the toilet itself. Melinda drew a picture, a picture of a plunger. It was epic. It didn't help at all. When Melinda tried to explain that the toilet wasn't broken, it just wouldn't flush, Mrs. Baroi thought we just didn't know how to flush it. She offered to demonstrate. I called our language coordinator, who had set up the home-stay to see if she could help. She didn't answer the phone, so I had to call her husband, at 10 o'clock at night, and explain the situation. He says it's one of the best questions he's ever been asked. Great. Finally, we had to just show our "parents" the toilet, at which point they called a plumber, who was supposed to come the next morning. Mrs. Baroi poured water down the toilet until all the poop was gone, and I guess it worked as good as had before. They showed us another bathroom we could use until the plumber came. (It didn't work all that well either.) All this occurred on the same night as the wedding, after the sari wearing experience, and at the end of it all we all laughed harder than I have ever laughed before for probably 45 minutes. That's one way to bond.

The next day, Mrs. Baroi asked us if the toilet was fixed. Since the plumber had never come, we had been using another toilet, and so, Melinda told her we didn't know. Surprised pause. Mrs. Baroi cracked up laughing. Suddenly, I realized Mrs. Baroi assumed we hadn't used the restroom for a day and a half. (or maybe we'd gone somewhere else?) Melinda ran off to get Mr. Baroi to explain the situation once again, which was followed by more hysterical laughter.

Anyway, we had a great time, and I think the Barois enjoyed it too. We really would love to visit again some weekend. Here are some of the best quotes from the week:

Mr. Baroi: You cannot get the taste of the rice without eating with your hand.

Melinda (discussing the fact that was no hot water in the house): You like cold showers more than I do.
Me: Not when it's cold outside, and by that I mean... warm.

Melinda: If I can pee [while wearing] a sari, is there anything I cannot do?
Me (later that night): Apparently, the answer is: flush a toilet.

Mrs Baroi: (admiring Melinda's bright clothes): ... holud paki, holud paki.
Melinda (not understanding): Oh ok..
Me: She says you look like a yellow bird.
Melinda: Oh good, yesterday she said I looked like a red flower... unless she said fruit.
Me: Flowers and birds are nice.

And finally, Melinda's summary of our home-stay:

We eat every meal with them, with our hands, we watch Bangla tv, we drink tea until it comes out of our ears, and we pray for water.

Melinda and Sarah Celebrate Eid and a Wedding

2010-11-22T02:01:00.000-08:00

Melinda and I are thinking of starting a series of Children's books. (Not seriously) We would call them the The Adventures of Melinda and Sarah. This one would be about parties.

This past Wednesday was Korbani Eid. This is Muslim holiday during which a cow, or goat if you have limited funds is sacrificed to atone for sins. We were invited to the home a Muslim friend for dinner. After you sacrifice, you have to do something with all that beef. Melinda and I did not attend the actual sacrifice, but we did witness the butchering of many many animals. I think I've now seen every organ and bone in a cow. We had a pretty good time. Our host was a multi-millionaire in dollars, and the family had a 6 story home with hand carved wood for the stair rail and on a wall, and wardrobes. There was a pool in the basement and a park for the daughter, as well as deer, and one cow that survived Eid. Azam, the father, sacrificed 5 cows and some goats. His wife did Mehindi on Melinda and I's hands, and we had a good time talking to her and her daughter. We had lunch and dinner with the family, and we watched as Azam and his house helpers passed out meat to the poor. You're supposed to keep 1/3 of the meat yourself, give 1/3 to family and friends, and give 1/3 to the poor.

The following day, we went to the village of Shavar to spend 5 days with a national family. Shavar is about 30 minutes outside of our city. We stayed with an older couple whose 3 sons have all left home. It was great. When we arrived, we discovered that our 'parents' had been invited to a wedding. Melinda managed to politely invite us as as well. Mr. and Mrs. Baroi were excited we wanted to come, but there was a dilemma. We had not brought any clothes suitable for a wedding. It was decided that we could borrow saris from Mrs. Baroi. The actual sari is just a super long piece of fabric that you wrap around yourself multiple times. It is the very definition of "one size fits all". The shirt that goes with it, however is more fitted. There followed several awkward moments of pinching and poking while Mrs. Baroi determined that there was no way her shirts would ever fit either of us. She is a tiny lady. Finally, she said we could wear chamises that we had brought and just tuck them into our petticoats. (The skirt that goes under the sari, into which the folds of fabric are tucked) On the day of the wedding, we donned our petticoats and shirts and then stood there while we were wrapped into 5 1/2 yards of fabric. (I'm not kidding.) Wearing a sari is terrifying. Nearly all that fabric is held up because it's been tucked into a petticoat that you tie around your waist as tightly as humanly possible. I spent the whole night worrying that it might somehow become untucked and fall to the floor. We were also given jewelry, the red dots women wear on their foreheads, and in my case, nice shoes to wear. Before we could get to the wedding, we had to get to a taxi. Since the house was in the village, we had to take a rickshaw to the main road. Getting into rickshaws in difficult while wearing pants... It was particularly interesting because Melinda wasn't sure if it was appropriate to let her ankles show. Mrs. Baroi solved that problem by hiking up Melinda's skirts (a little) and pushing her into the seat. I climbed in and we were off... slowly riding through town while everyone gaped at us. These people had seen even fewer foreigners then people who live in the city. As I was getting out of the rickshaw on the main road, one of the straps of my shoe broke. (It was not a new shoe) So, we were escorted to the taxi and (once again) shoved inside. Mrs. Baroi took my shoes and set off in search of someone to repair them. She returned 10 minutes (Or was it hours?) later and we were on our way. The wedding started at 4 and by this time it was 4:05. We were still 45 minutes away. Don't worry though, we arrived right before the ceremony started.

Side note: In the course of the evening, Melinda and I successfully used a squatty potty while wearing saris. I'm sure you don't want the details, so I won't provide them, but just imagine, if you can, trying to use the restroom while wearing 16 ft of slippery fabric, which might unravel at any moment. We felt accomplished. STILL feel accomplished.

After the ceremony, we proceeded to the reception. Melinda found a space where we could all sit together and dinner was served. There I was eating chicken and goat in orange sauce, and rice, with my hand, all in someone else's fancy sari. Everything was going well until Melinda asked for more water. Her glass was refilled, she set it on the table, and 2 seconds later it fell over, soaking me. It wasn't Melinda's fault. As it turns out, there a chunk missing from the table, conveniently hidden by table cloth until Melinda put her glass there.

We finished dinner and returned home. Thankfully, the taxi took us almost all the way to our house, so we didn't have to experience a rickshaw in the dark. Immediately upon arriving home, Melinda and I changed into more comfortable clothes and our "mom" enjoyed a good laugh over all of our escapades.

Someone Please Tell Me I'm on Candid Camera...

2010-11-09T05:15:00.000-08:00

Today has been a day with one too many adventures. Melinda wasn't feeling well this morning so we got off to a late start. It took forever to find a taxi and we were finally on our way to school by by 7:40 as opposed to 7:15. The taxi got maybe 100 ft down the road stopped. It clearly have technical difficulties. ... (As you can see, though I'm nowhere near fluent in Bangla, I'm already forgetting English. Awesome.) Anyway, the driver got out and opened a hatch in the back, removed the accelerator wire and proceeded to string it through the taxi and tie it off up front. All the way across town, he had one hand on the steering wheel and one hand pulling the wire. Yup, we were literally pulled to school today. I'm super impressed the taxi made it up the overpass. It was very exciting and I learned that baby taxis are apparently indestructible, so that's encouraging.

After class, Melinda had a doctor's appointment at the International Centre for Diarrhoeal Disease Research. It has at least two clinics in the city, one of which ironically enough is housed at the American International School. AIS is by far the biggest, fanciest school I've ever set foot in. It was impressive and so very western I went through a minor bout of reverse culture shock in the middle of South Asia. All I know is, for the amount of money that must be spent on the building alone, those children better emerge with full scholarships to Stanford. After the appointment, we went to the tailor to pick up some pants we had made. I love tailors. I'm entirely too short for pre-made clothes and having them made only costs a couple extra dollars. I will definitely miss this when I come home. By then it was 12:15 and we decided to take a bicycle rickshaw for a short ride to lunch... or so we thought.

When you ride in a bicycle rickshaw you end up high up on cushion with a man on a bike pulling you slowly through town. Kind of like you're on a chariot or really old parade float. It makes you very conspicuous and I'm kind of tempted to do the pageant queen wave as I go by. This is why you only take them short distances. Today, Melinda and I passed another rickshaw with several guys in it. They asked if they could ride with us, even though clearly, there was no room on either seat. I thought "so... you want us to what? Sit on your laps? No thanks." Anyway, we were on our way from an area of town called Gulshan 1 to an area called Bonani. It should have taken maybe 10 minutes. Instead, our rickshaw puller decided to take us on the scenic tour of Gulshan. I'm pretty sure we covered every square inch of that district. Some parts twice. Finally, Melinda just started chanting the name Bonani and when we got somewhere we vaguely recognized we got off. It was an adventure! Remember how we set out at 12:15? We finally sat down to eat at 2.

I almost forgot to tell you the most exciting part of my day! Before that epic ride, we took a rickshaw from the doctor to the tailor. We had agreed to pay 50 taka, but it took longer then expected so the guy wanted 10 taka more. Not really a big deal, but sadly I failed to understand what he wanted. Melinda had already walked off toward the tailor. So, I gave the man 50 taka. He said something which I missed. The he handed me forty taka. That was really confusing because I was pretty sure he had not changed his mind and decided to accept a much lower price. He kept yelling the word "bangti" at me, which means "change". And all I could think was "I know you gave me change but what for?" Finally, Melinda realized I was not behind her, so she returned and asked "What's going on? What's going on?" I yelled, "I don't know! I wish I could explain what's happening, but I have no idea!" In the end, the rickshaw puller reached in my wallet and grabbed another 50 taka. Then it dawned on me, he wanted to make change with us. I probably should have figured this out before, but oh well, life goes on.

Curse you, stupid plastic wrap!

2010-11-08T08:01:00.000-08:00

Oh my gosh, it's been awhile. Since I last blogged, I have left Delhi and relocated to the city that my language school is in. I am now a student at HEED Language Center and I like it a lot. Class is from 8am-10am Sunday-Thursday. The teacher is super friendly and so enthusiastic it's hard not to be happy around him. That's a plus, since I have to wake up at 6:15 and I am decidedly NOT a morning person. Also, it takes about an hour to get to school in a baby taxi because the traffic is horrible. Add in the pollution, the blaring car horns, and the death defying maneuvers of the drivers, and I could see myself arriving in a less than pleasant mood. Probably, the scariest thing I've done so far is cross the road. Many of you may be breathing a sigh of relief, but that's only because you've never experienced traffic here. My roommate and I actually had a discussion about how drivers know which traffic lights to obey and which can be ignored. One the bright side, I've only been within inches of being crushed by a bus once. :) But then, I've only been here 3 weeks...

Let's see, what other exciting things have happened. Although, we live in a guesthouse with an excellent cook and laundry services, my roommate and I are trying hard to save money. So, we buy our own food and we wash our clothes by hand in the bathtub. I miss living at home. If at all possible, you should avoid hand-washing jeans and towels. Trust me on this. I know.

We've experienced bed bugs. That was great.
The internet service provider decided they'd rather provide service to a different part of the city.
And my computer crashed.

But don't worry. The bugs are gone for now. We have internet for now. AND most importantly, a friend of mine who lives here is currently in Oklahoma, so my parents picked out a new computer and it should be here in week or two! Hooray.

The people we've met here have been really friendly and helpful. I'm excited to be able to speak the language better and get to know more people. Recently, we started volunteering at a kind of community center for young girls who live in the slums. It’s a place where girls can come to get help with their homework, a meal, and just have a place to play and relax. They are so sweet, and they’re excited to help us learn too. After I helped one girl with her English homework, she read her Bangla lesson to me and made me repeat after her. I honestly, can’t tell you what I said or if I said it correctly, but my little teacher was very pleased.
People have absolutely no idea how old we are. Sunday night after church, we went to ask the pastor’s wife if it would be possible to practice with the praise team. The members are all young adults and we think it would be a good way to meet people. Unfortunately, our Bangla and her English were not good enough to get the point across. Instead, this wonderful woman thought we wanted to practice music with her. So, she taught to sing a children’s song and then to say “I love you.” At this point we began to try to disengage, but it was no use. We were stuck. During the course of the encounter, she stroked my hair, like I was a little child. Then she proceeded to say that I was her daughter and my roommate was her sister. Apparently, I look like I’m 12 and Melinda looks like she’s 30. (Which is definitely not true) Finally, she escorted us to the gate of the guesthouse and just before we made our escape… She tickled my chin. Yup it was great.
Melinda and I have kept an excellent sense of humor about us and have even started a quote book, which is the best pick-me-up ever.

This quote came from the guesthouse manager's five year old son: [Sarah] you're funny. Not the jokes you tell the things you do.
Also, in case you're interested, you can get a phone plan with "unlimited STDs". Still haven't figured out what that means...

Haridwar and the Commonwealth Games

2010-10-12T06:21:00.000-07:00

I know you've all been glued to your computers waiting for my next post. So, here it is, a mere day and a half after the last one. (You should all try visualizing someone whose face is literally glued to their computer screen... It made me laugh... Twice.)

Anyway, last Saturday we went to the city of Haridwar, which is on the Ganges River and has an important Hindu temple, along with a huge Shiva statue. Shiva is said to be the destroyer god, but he also brings about rebirth, and the Ganges is supposed to flow down his hair. (River... rebirth... and all that). The Ganges was not as nasty as I expected it to be, but I'm told it gets worse at more important holy sites like Varanasi. We saw people swimming, drinking the water, washing their clothes, and there were idols in it too, among other things. There was no sign of the alleged red skin eating sludge though. In any case, I opted not to get in the water. The temple was high up in the mountains, and we took a gondola up there. It was like getting in a Ferris Wheel at Frontier City. We wandered around, looked at all the gods, and then made our way back out. Before you can leave, you have to walk by all the vendors that sell everything from tiny idols, to jewelry with scriptures on it, to Hannah Montana toys. Not to mention "Famous American Corn". The lines to the exit are long and narrow. They have to be narrow otherwise there would be no such thing as a "line," it would be a huge number of people all crowding their way on to gondolas. At one point, we saw the "emergency exit". It was a door that opened off the side of a cliff. I guess the idea is to gauge the emergency and decide if there's a chance you might survive, or if you should just leap off and die faster. Mercifully, we did not have to make such a decision.

Yesterday, we went to the Commonwealth Games. It's kind of like the Olympics for former members of the British Commonwealth. There was a choice between Badminton and Squash. I chose Badminton because I could not imagine anyone taking that game seriously. So, my friend and I set out. We walked quite some distance before we found a baby taxi to take us the rest of the way. Or so we thought... Our driver took us exactly 3 blocks, before arriving the athletes entrance to the game. Obviously, this was not where we wanted to be and we tried everything to convince our driver of that fact, but he would not believe us. He even brought over others to confirm his wrong opinion. Finally, out of options, we got out and continued on foot. What should have been a 5 minute ride, took us an hour and twenty minutes to walk. Then we went though security. The policewoman patted me down and then for some unknown reason took my hand and put it behind my back. Just one hand. She proceeded to move my hand from place to place on my back and twist me around, all the while speaking to me in Hindi, clearly expecting me to do what she said. It was really frustrating. My thought process went something like this:

Do you see me? White skin, blond hair, REALLY confused expression? Obviously, I don't understand and I have nothing remotely dangerous with me.

Finally, she let go of my hand. I don't know if we were done or not. I was still confused, so I just left. Eventually, we made it to venue and since we had just walked forever we brought drinks. After entering the stadium and walking up to our seats, we were told there was no food or drinks allowed and had to go back out. After chugging our drinks, we re-entered the stadium, and finally got to watch some Badminton. All I can say is, I'm sure it's much harder than it looks. We watched India beat Malaysia and England beat Canada in the quarter finals. The audience was really into the India game. It was actually fun. Afterward, exhausted, we took the first baby taxi we saw, and paid him way too much. We were just grateful we made it all the way home in a vehicle. Bring on the unique experiences!

Overload

2010-10-10T07:29:00.000-07:00

My mind is melting. I have so many things to blog about, I don't know what to blog about. This week I've been exploring. I went to a Hindu temple and a Baha'i temple. The Baha'i temple was called the Lotus Temple and really was shaped like a huge flower. Baha'i is a religion that combines everything basically. All religions lead to the same place and if we can unite them all, then we'll reach perfection or something like that. Honestly, I've never understood that philosophy. Religions are all so different, how could they lead to the same end?

This week was all about using public transportation. I think I've got baby taxis down. Below is a picture of one, which I found on Google. You can fit 3 people in there, and it zooms around like a go-kart, and it's fairly cheap.

I also rode the train and the metro. I rode the metro Friday, I think. (I don't have cell phone, so I struggle to remember the date, day, or time...) Anyway, my friends and I were leaving the Lotus Temple and we couldn't get a baby taxi take us home for a good price. So, finally we saw a metro station and decided to try that. The first metro was really nice. It wasn't crowded, it had A/C and several helpful announcements. For example, "Please do not sit in seats reserved for the handicapped, senior citizens, and ladies" and "Please watch for unattended bags, briefcases, toys, and transistors, as they may contain bombs." Good to know. Then we changed lines. This time it was so crowded that it didn't matter we had nothing to hold on to. But then, maybe 2 people moved and all of the sudden, my friend and I were stumbling back and forth across the car. Indian metros definitely don't glide to a gentle stop. Comparatively, the D.C. metro does. Of course we were on a car with all men. They tried so hard to help us. There is a car reserved for ladies, but we would've had to get off the train, run to the front, and then push our way back on again. Plus, we had a guy with us and didn't want to leave him. Next,a guy said, "These seats are reserved for ladies. You can make someone move." But, walking up (or squeezing our way through hundreds of people) to some random men and demanding they move for us is not part of our natures. Not to mention, it would make it even harder to reach the doors on the opposite side of the car when we needed to get off. Finally, the guy found a bar for us to hold on to. The metro ended up being a lot cheaper than a baby taxi, but it took us an hour to get home, as opposed to 15 minutes.

People here are really helpful. When you've just arrived in Delhi and the only Hindi word you know is the name of your destination, taxi drivers will stop and ask directions, a shop keeper offered me a chair when he noticed a I was waiting on my friends and a policeman got a taxi for us (which helps keep the price down).

There's more to this adventure, but maybe I'll save it for another blog. Oooh, a cliffhanger. I bet that drives you crazy doesn't it?

Arrival

2010-10-06T06:00:00.000-07:00

Ah, the sweet smell of sweat and pollution! Yes, ladies and gentlemen I have officially arrived in India, with all my luggage PTL. There was some question because the luggage belt stopped for a good 5 minutes and I didn't have any of my suitcases. Apparently, some of the containers were taken to the wrong place.

My journey began at 2:10 Monday afternoon, when I left OKC for Dallas. Then from Dallas I flew to London, where I went through security all over again, walked about 5 miles (slight exaggeration) across the airport, and made it to my gate as the plane was boarding. Btw, for those interested, each of my long flights was about 8 1/2 hours. On the Dallas/London flight, I was seated by a man who apparently had opted not to bathe before entering a tiny space filled with recycled air. He had however, put on cologne in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his BO. It didn't help. On the London/Delhi flight I was seated next to two friendly Spanish women who did not speak any English. They repeatedly crawled over me to talk to their other friends, all the while insisting that I not move. So, I pushed myself as far back into the seat as possible and turned my head to the side in order to avoid someone's rear brushing my face. I know they were trying to be polite, but after a while I really just wanted to get up and let them out.

I'm really starting to like the OKC airport. Twenty-ish gates in 2 hallways and everything is close by. Dallas isn't that bad. At Heathrow, I left the plane and boarded a bus that drove me way far away to the arrival area. Several minutes and a ridiculous amount of escalators later I made it to security, went through that whole process, walked a long long way across terminal A, used yet more escalators, boarded a train to terminal D and went to the far end of that. It took me about an hour to get off the plane and to my next gate.

Baggage claim in Dehli is really far away from the arrival area too.

I got the the guest house at about 3:30 Wednesday morning. The first thing I did was take a shower. I have yet to figure out how to operate the water heater, but the water isn't exactly cold. After standing around in heat and humidity it felt great. The truly important thing was that I got to feel clean again!

I woke up at nine and went shopping for clothes. It is not as crowded as I expected, but I'm told that a lot of people have left the city because they heard the Commonwealth Games would make traffic beyond ridiculous. I bought one shirt, but that's it. Orientation starts tomorrow. Hoping to go to bed early tonight!

Sugary and Bright

2010-09-08T14:03:00.000-07:00

Ice cream is the most glorious food in the world. Yes, you heard me, it's glorious. I get really excited about really random things and ice cream is one of them. The best kind is udderly cream with reeses and cookie dough. Can you tell I went to Maggie Moo's this weekend? It was the first time I'd eaten there. Actually, there is one kind of ice cream that is better. The kind that is home made by my friends the Watsons. But that sadly is not as accessible as Maggie Moo's. Man I like ice cream!

But on to other things, the weather was also glorious this weekend. Warm and breezy. My whole goal for Saturday, Sunday, and Monday was to stay outside, and I did. I am now done with all of my books. At one point, there was a little Jack Russell mix that decided to be my friend. She just walked over, jumped up into my lap, and sat down. Random. I couldn't bring myself to make her move. She was too cute.

I am now an officially certified ESL instructor. I spent 2 loooong Saturdays learning how to teach it, and saved my self a lot of time and money. Usually, ESL certification is a semester long college class.

This week I've been learning more about Indian culture. What to wear, how to greet people, some cultural mistakes to avoid, etc... Some of the information I already knew, but it's good to refresh my memory. I'm so excited for tailored clothes. Being super short makes it difficult to find pants that fit me. Also, I'm a huge fan of bright colors. I'm going to have to hold myself back, otherwise I'll end up in some sparkly rainbow outfit that makes me look like a five year old. People already have trouble believing I'm a college grad and not a junior high student. No need to make the realization harder. :)

Doom and Discovery

2010-08-24T12:50:00.000-07:00

I am starting to be less excited about South Asia. Do you know how many shots I have to get? Hmmm? 11. Well, 10 shots and 1 TB skin test, but still, I have to get poked with a needle so 11. That's so many shots that two nurses stand on either side of me and stab at the same time. I have never fainted or thrown up at the sight of needles, but this time I was definitely nauseous. Friday was our first clinic. Three down, 8 more to go. Yesterday, I received an email saying that the medical department had an early shipment of flu mist. Guess where there has recently been an outbreak of the flu? South Asia! On top of all those shots, I have to shoot liquid up my nose. I think that might be worse. Or at least the idea of it is... Sigh.

But that's enough complaining. On to something more interesting. Last Friday, we also found out our personality types according to the Meyers Briggs test. I am an ISFP.

I: Many of you may be surprised to learn that I scored pretty high on the Introvert scale. :) 22 out of 30.
Being an introvert does not have to mean that you are shy (although I am), it just means you get more energy from being alone than with people.

S is for Sensory: S people define situations by what their 5 senses tell them. This definitely describes me. I tend to interpret things very literally. I don't particularly like sitting around discussing symbolism.

F is for Feeling: feelers make decisions based on how the people around them will respond to it. They also try to avoid conflict. My score on this trait was pretty high as well.

P is for Perceiving: I was only a 6 on the perceiving side. Basically, it means I'm not particularly organized and I don't make very detailed plans. The example given was someone planning a vacation. My plan would be: Go to a New Zealand. Stay for 2 weeks. Do whatever sounds fun/ is affordable. The opposite of that is someone who would meticulously plan every detail. I can do that if I have to. I just usually don't.

Anyway, it was a really interesting seminar. My roommate in India is an ESFJ, which I think will be helpful. She can make friends and plans. :p I will be the one who (hopefully) remains calm when all our plans go out the window.

Thoughts...

2010-08-18T14:48:00.000-07:00

What I learned about overseas travel so far. You should not drink the water or eat any of the food, and probably go ahead and bring your own oxygen tank just in case (Note the sarcasm on that last part). You should also not wade through any water, because there is a parasite that enters the body through the pores on your feet that can cause liver and bladder damage. (Attempting to avoid standing water will be great fun during the rainy season I'm sure.)

If you happen to be riding in a taxi and the driver hits a cow, throw some money in the backseat and run. If you happen to be riding in a taxi and the driver hits a person, place some money in the backseat and walk away briskly.

And don't even get me started on women's health. Not that this is strictly applicable to living overseas, but so far I've learned that short, blond haired, blue-eyed women are more likely to get several different types of cancers and osteoporosis. I would like to make it perfectly clear that my eyes are GREEN. Thank you.

Now on to better news, today we got to eat out at an Indian restaurant. It's called India K' Raja and it was good. I had:
mattar paneer - cheese cubes with peas in an onion and tomato sauce
vegetable kapora - apparently a ball of fried vegetables
tandoori chicken
chicken curry
rice
naan - amazing flat bread. If you've never had any you should go immediately to your nearest Indian restaurant and get some.
masala dosa - spiced potatoes wrapped something similar to a pancake. That was odd because the dosa I've had before was wrapped in thin crispy bread, but whatever.
gulab jamun - something like ball of pancake soaked in syrup, (the one thing I really didn't like)
mango ice cream
chai- I'm told that chai in India is much better but I liked it anyway.

If that sounds like a lot of food, it was. But I ate small portions, it was mostly amazing, and I'm not eating dinner. Also, I plan to jog tonight if it stops raining. They say there's a drought going on in VA but it's rained almost 3 days per week since I got here...

Getting more and more excited for traveling!

Ami am lagbe.

2010-08-03T16:01:00.000-07:00

I suppose I should start with an explanation for my title. I will shortly be journeying to South Asia, and one of the few things I can say in the local language is "I want a mango." (The title of today's post.) Also, it is really difficult for me to hide what I'm feeling, which means that, atleast for a while, I'll be wandering about looking completely lost and confused. So, whilst (get used to random words like whilst, all those of you who read this) at dinner with some friends, we were joking about my inability to communicate and how nationals would respond to me. One possible option was this: "Did you see that tiny, confused, American girl? I gave her all my mangos."My friends laughed hysterically, and I laughed a little aprehensively... and I had my title.

I am super excited about mangos. They are delicious.

Presently, I'm in Virginia training for my assignment. The first night I got here, it occured to me that I had moved out of my parents' house. I've been overseas before, but always with the expectation that eventually I would return home and everything would go back to the way it was. Not this time. I've graduated from college, I have a job for atleast the next 2 years, and then hopefully, I will continue to live on my own in the States. I have to admit, I feaked out a little. I know I'm weird. But I liked living at home with my parents and sisters. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to change that. I guess I have to grow up sometime though. That is what I intend for my blog to be about. Not only my adventures in a new country, but also about me becoming an adult.

So... I hope that you enjoy following along in this whole process, should be interesting.