Nga Ming-la Stacey Sikee-yu

I FINALLY put up all my legit pictures. I put them where they should have been in the original posts, so scroll back down and check them out!

Today is Saturday, which means a much needed holiday from classes. To celebrate, I meditated on the roof this morning. But while I was up there there was an EARTHQUAKE! It was just a baby earthquake but super awesome because I felt it so much more on the roof. Earthquakes are common here and in Tibet because of the tectonic plates and whatnot. That's how the Himalayas were formed, from India and the plate it's on crashing into Asia and the plate it's on. We just learned about it in Culture class. Anyawy, a bunch of us have decided to go into Upper Dharamsala, called Mcleod Ganj, to use internet and generally spend money.

Yesterday we went on a field trip to the Tibetan Library and museum in Mcleod Ganj. Ani-la's brother is in town so she hitched a ride with us in the jeeps to meet him (pictured right: Ani-la, Lauren, Genny, and me). As it turns out, Ani-la is pretty much the most popular person on campus and definitely the most popular person in our little group of Americans. Everyone wants a piece of her. She turned the ride up to Upper Dharamsala into a nun-style dance party, which consisted of clapping and shaking our heads to the sounds of "who let the dogs out," which the driver thought we'd appreciate because it was in english......


The Library was super interesting. The curator had no problem unwrapping a 13th century text for us to take pictures of. Becky, who took a class on restoration at the Carlos Museum, was horrified. They really didn't have great restoration and conservation techniques, just a dehumidifier. The text pictured below is written in classical Tibetan on wood with actual gold and silver ink. Pretty freaking cool.

Talking about Tibetan, I pretty much rock at it. Apparently, I've had a dormant skill for languages. I'd probably be better at it if I cared about it more... The thing about colloquial Tibetan and written/classical Tibetan is that they are almost completely different languages. So while I can read it and understand it, I find motivation for speaking it hard to come by, especially because all the Tibetans on campus want to practice their English. But Tibetan itself is a ridiculously cool language. When you learn a new language, you also get incite to how the native speakers think. So in Tibetan, the sentence structure is all about relationships between people and things and what is actually happening is secondary. "I have tea" becomes literally "I to me tea have." "My name is Stacey" becomes "My name Stacey is called." Tibetan also doesn't have the verb "to be." Instead, they use the literal term "exists." This alone makes Tibetan a great philosophical language. Something has to actually exist in order for it to be a legit sentence, or else you're lying or speaking hypothetically. So, "My house in is California" is actually "My house exists in California." Any other wording would make it false. If I were to come up with more examples, you'd see that Tibetan is a way to get a lot of information out of someone with very few key words. Its bizarre and SO cool.

In the afternoons a few of us have taken to playing volleyball with the students, monks, and teachers a-like. You'd think they'd be terrible, but there's some real competition out on the court, even if the form is off and there is blatant disregard for the real rules. When a lot of people want to play there is a rule that once you mess up, you're out and someone takes your place in the rotation. It gets really heated when two people mess up and their reasons for staying in are ridiculous. One guy the other day said that he should stay in because the other guy who messed up had his shoe untied. Sometimes they resort to a form of rock, paper, scissors, but they have weird hand motions and use their knuckles and I don't understand it at all. My room overlooks the volleyball court and I snapped this picture earlier today of a team of monks getting in a good rally. The monks are the source of 90% of my entertainment.

Anyway, I'm off to meet up with Ani-la and her brother for some "Italian food." I'll let you know how it goes...

Singing Up the Sun

So, I lied about putting pictures up today. The internet in the computer lab is attrocious. I literally started the dial-up, left to eat lunch, started to load a page, left for a meditation session with Geshe-la, came back to the page still loading, signed on to my mail, threw a tantrum when the internet connection was "interrupted" and couldn't load, tried again, and two hours later, here I am. I'll have to wait until I have the time to get up to Lower Dharamsala and get back to a high-speed internet cafe, if such a thing exists. We're all getting pretty frustrated so maybe we'll make the time tomorrow.

Today after lunch Ani-la and I were chillin' in the room when she asked me what a eukaryote was. I got SOOO excited! She's learning Biology in her science class. Finally, something I can help HER with!

Classes started officially today. It has the potential to be a pretty intense semester. Typical day looks a little like this:

6:00AM Jump out of bed to a bell that someone rings 108 times (a very auspicious number, for whatever reason) with a big smile on my face (no, I'm not kidding. That actually happens here. Yesterday morning Ani-la woke up actually laughing. How amazing is that?!)

6:30AM Prayers in the monastery next to my dorm (pictured below, this is the view of the monastery from my dorm room balcony). Today was the first time I went. Usually Ani-la sleeps through them so neither of us go. But they are very interesting and provide great people-watching opportunities. Monks and men on one side, nuns and women facing them on the other. Everyone sits on cushions cross-legged without shoes and chants together. I have yet to be fluent in Tibetan (maybe that'll happen tomorrow) so I have no idea what they are saying but its a very pretty droning song-like chant. But my favorite part about the whole thing was that the sun came up as everyone was chanting. As prayers went on the monastery got brighter and brighter and as the dawn broke I got this very strange feeling the they themselves were actually singing up the sun. It was so cool.

7AM Morning tea with Ani-la and everyone directly after prayers, morning meditation with Courtney-la, breakfast, skipping. Ok, so there is no scheduled skipping time, but sometimes I just want to skip around! This is also time to read the readings due for class as fast as possible because I probably will never do them when I'm supposed to. We have about 300-400 pages of reading due a week, not including other assignments and language practice.

9-10AM Language Class

10:30-12ish Mid-morning tea, Tibetan Culture class or Buddhist Philosophy class

12:30 Scarf down lunch of bread and dall (a lentil soup kind of thing, varies everyday). Meals here are not the same kind of pomp and circumstance that they are in America. It is not considered a social time, it lasts as long as it takes to eat your food and not much longer, and if you eat alone, you don't feel like a loner. Meals are taken at face value - it's a time to become un-hungry and get back to your life. I rather like it like this. If you want to be social, you offer tea.

1:30-2:30 Language class again with language partners (usually IBD students studying to become teachers)

2:30-5:30 Afternoon tea (I told you we drink about 900 cups a day), free time with scheduled yoga and afternoon meditation sessions on the roof

5:30 Scarf down dinner and go for a walk. Yes, a walk. Here, everyone eats dinner as fast as they can and the entire campus gets up and walks around together until dusk. What a beautiful practice!

6:30-9:30PM Free time when we are supposed to do work... 9:30 is when the curfew bell rings. Oh yeah, we have a "curfew." But I'm pretty sure the American students are excempt because no one seemed to care last night when we stayed up late in our lounge watching Planet Earth with some monk friends. The monks LOVE Planet Earth. We brought a bunch of Planet Earth DVD's as gifts for the monks because they aren't supposed to form attachments to things, it doesnt count against their vows of poverty, they are super earthy and scholarly anyway, and well...everyone is fascinated by Planet Earth. I think that's a pretty legit assumption to make.

K, well its 4PM now, which means yoga time! Bet you're all jealous!

Tibet Low Down

So, Pahla, or “dad” in Tibetan, commented on my last post about the people who come to Dharamsala from Tibet. Well, Dad and everyone else, I shall tell you:

First, a little history. Tibet was invaded by the People’s Liberation Army in 1949 pretty much because China felt like it. China viewed Tibet’s Buddhist non-violent way of life as backwards and heathen and wanted to modernize it. Also, there was something about Russia and China fighting over ownership of Tibet because whoever had control of that area more or less dominated Asia. China originally was all about the non-violence too and claimed they wanted to “help” Tibet perpetuate their chosen way of life. But, once they gained Tibet’s trust they started implementing their communist ideals, namely redistributing the land to the lower class. That all sounds fine and dandy, but in Tibet, the monasteries owned the land. The monks of the monasteries are dedicated to practicing Buddhism while the lower class work the land. The lower class is totally fine with this for a number of reasons: (1) anyone can become a monk if they want to, (2) everyone has a close family member who is a monk or nun (Ani-la has a “cousin-sister” here who is a nun and a brother who is a monk in southern India, but also a sister who is still in Tibet with her family), and most importantly, (3) monks’ work is necessary for the perpetuation of their religion, which is the basis of their way of life. When the People’s Republic of China forcibly took the land away from the monks they did so in a rather untactful way – by publicly humiliating and imprisoning the monks, often violently. This goes on for a while with much resistance from the Tibetans, a lot of monk imprisonment and torture, claims of cultural genocide of Tibetans by the Chinese, and gross disregard for human rights – all in complete isolation. No one in the world even knew this was going on. Eventually, in 1959, neotiations with China fail and the Dalai Lama is forced to flee across the Himalayas disguised as a common soldier and takes refuge in India. India gave Tibetans land in the south as refuge before the Dalai Lama fled but when he came, they also gave him and his cabinet Dharamsala to set up their government in exile.

Which leads me to why everyone is here. Many people do go to Nepal and Ladakh (an area on the boarder of China and India) and elsewhere, but Dharamsala is the place to be. People continue to flee and settle here because they want to be close to HHDL. He is more or less their god and so, of course, they want to be near him. However, all the monasteries are set up in such a way that the moment Tibet is liberated they are prepared to pack up and return home immediately. Dharmasala is also home to the IBD, the Institute for Buddhist Dialect, where I am studying, and the best place to be educated in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. Most people who flee are children who are sent here to grow up free of Chinese repression, student who want an education, and people who make a pilgrimage to be blessed by His Holiness. People leave their families behind in Tibet in search of a better life, jobs, and the education they are denied in China. They go to great length to get here, such as Ani-la, and when they do, they take their studies very seriously. Many show up after experiencing torture, imprisonment, death of entire families and enter India with frostbite and malnutrition among other...discomforts. The most amazing thing I’ve found, however, is how they can laugh everyday, and do so often. They are some of the most kind, selfless, loving people and I can only hope to learn and emmulate these traits by the end of my stay. Tibetans will give you the world before they take anything for themselves. They are very careful with everything they own and feel blessed to be getting an education. They love to laugh and play and are gentle and quiet all at the same time. They are such a beautiful people that I can scarsely believe such a humanity exists. If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm ridiculously happy and fortunate to be here learning from them.

You Are Only As Good As Your Bucket

Last night I had the most fulfilling shower of my life. If we want hot water in the shower, we’re supposed to take one during the day because the hot water is solar powered. If it’s a sunny day, one is blessed with warm water. Unfortunately, I waited until the last minute (7PM) to shower so hot water was not a possibility. Ani-la saw me preparing to cleanse myself and started clicking her tongue in disapproval. She commenced re-teaching me how to bathe. She heated water for me in her electric teakettle and halfway filled my bucket and her own with hot water to be mixed with cold. Two buckets of warm water?! I couldn’t believe my good luck. I entered the shower area…thing, looked down at my two plastic buckets of water and flip-flopped feet, got intensely excited at the prospect of being clean, and laughed out loud at myself. India had finally punched me in the face.

After my incredibly fulfilling shower I felt much better (p.s. between Delhi smog and cold showers I have developed what I believe to be another bout of bronchitis…at least my intestines are working!). I also decided that in the spirit of cleanliness, it was time to do some legit laundry (picture was actually taken in Pragpur, notice the sweet tile...but you get the idea). Ani-la, in her endless patience and compassion, took pity on me again and showed me how one really cleans their clothes…which also requires a bucket. Cleaning clothes, and I mean REALLY cleaning clothes, should leave you aching and breathless. I definitely broke a little sweat. I took the whites while Ani-la took the colors, she laughed at my awkward splashing the whole time.

Today is Sunday, which is everyone’s day-off. We chose to spend the day on the roof reading the mountain of books we’ve been putting off. Josh accidentally dropped a pretzel off the roof a few hours ago. It was caught mid-air by a passing cow, who has been mooing for more food ever since. My friend Genny is an amateur artist and talked me into taking a spontaneous drawing class. My picture of a Tibetan palace is pretty sick, if I do say so myself (look Ma! I drew a picture!). A few of us also decided to take an excursion to the nearby town of Gaggel this evening. Gaggel has a practical if polluted little marketplace about a 20 minute walk from campus down a mountain. It was a beautiful stroll with wonderful company…but the thing about walking down a mountain in the evening is that you have to walk back up it… in the dark. Ani-la refused to let my cow poop-laden shoes anywhere near the room, even to just deposit them on the balcony. They are now clean of feces and soaking in my bucket. You really are only as good as your bucket.

I'll Give Up Anything But the Toilet Paper

So I've been in transit the last few days and haven't had access to internet. Fortunately, I've been writing my blog as I go, so prepare yourself, this one's a doozie:

It’s been quite an action-packed couple of days. In Delhi, we went to see HH the Dalai Lama speak at an Islamic peace conference at a university. Even though everyone speaking, including HHDL, spoke forever and my attention waned more than a little, it was really interesting to hear their perspectives. One of the Islamic professors who spoke was very anti-Israel and spoke against the war in Gaza as a blatant violation of the peace treaty by the Israelis. Most of the audience appeared to be Muslim and stood and cheered at his denunciation of Israel while the five Jews in our group, myself included, found our jaws on the floor, eyebrows raised to the ceiling, and an inconspicuous hand covering our Star of David necklaces…which we all happened to be wearing. HHDL respectfully disagreed with his denunciation by saying that everyone was to blame for the war and it was everyone’s responsibility to share the world peacefully and govern with compassion, that violence breeds more violence and so, the only way to end the suffering in the Middle East is non-violent compromise and respect.

Later, we went to Old Delhi to shop by ourselves, never have to do that one again. It was so crazy it was stressful and not fun at all. Everyone was trying to rip us off and the guys in the group were thrust unwillingly into Big Brother roles to fend off the endless stream of Indian men from us women. We found that in India, gender issues really are gender issues. Also, I think I mentioned how dirty Delhi is in a previous post. The picture to the left is all we ever saw of the sun when we were in Delhi due to the incredibly dense smog. It was always hazy and everything seemed gray. It was disgusting.

Next day we went to Humayun’s Tomb, which was a great break from Delhi. It was peaceful and unbelievably beautiful, great place to take the kids if ever you find yourself in India. Humayun was a Mogul general who did a lot of cool stuff for India. His tomb was also the precursor to the Taj Mahal, but I overheard someone saying it was better than the Taj. We then went to a walking tour of the New Delhi train station to learn about street children. The train station is another place I never need to go to again. We later described it as the great equalizer, where it didn’t matter your status or skin color, you still got grabbed, you still felt unsafe and claustrophobic, and you still wanted to get out of there as fast as you could. The street children tour was incredibly moving. Our tour guide was a 20-year-old former street child who works for the NGO called Salaam Baalak. He ran away from home at the age of 8 because he was abused in his Aunt’s home. He sold tampered water bottles in Delhi for money for five years, got into drugs and gangs, and was finally picked up by Salaam Baalak, educated, and put in a shelter. He is now at University studying to become a tourism manager. He told us that 8 months ago, he knew no English, which was surprising because it was perfect, and now he’s also studying Spanish, because they make up a huge portion of the tourists now coming to India. To end the tour, he brought us to the shelter he used to live at as a kid to meet the boys who live there now. There were about 20-30 kids between the ages of 7 and 14 all spread out on the floor with blankets watching a movie. I think they were used to tour groups coming in and looking at them because they hardly cared that a whole hoard of white people came in and interrupted their movie. It felt very voyeuristic taking pictures of them until they noticed all the cameras out. They pretty much went crazy for the cameras. They all jumped up and wanted to get their pictures taken and take pictures themselves. For the next half an hour we all posed together and made funny faces and took hundreds of pictures. They loved seeing themselves on camera. When it was time to go they begged us to stay and play some more. They wanted to show us cricket and the pictures they drew for the parents they ran away from or were surrendered by. Many of us cried when we had to leave them. If you’d like to know more about the street children of India or the NGO Salaam Baalak you can go to their website http://www.salaambaalaktrust.com/.

Next day was a 14 hr bus ride to Pragpur. It wasn’t such a bad ride. We ended up with a bus-wide Disney sing-a-long to a drum. Pragpur was AMAZING. Best place I’ve ever stayed. It was a colonial British-style resort thing and they treated us like kings. The beds were huge and comfortable, the rooms were richly decorated with couches and mirrors and fireplaces, the showers were HOT, they had western toilets, they did our laundry for us and made us a bonfire and waited on us in the dinning room like every meal was black tie. It was really amazing. And the quaint little village 3 minutes away was clean and untouched by tourism and there were no beggars or smog, which was literally a breath of fresh air. Such an upgrade from Delhi. We decided we’re going to go back there in a few weeks when we’ve had enough of squat toilets and want to feel like westerners again. On the last night in Pragpur, Geshe-la (he is the monk who has been traveling with us and who is pretty much the head of the Emory-Tibet program. He is also pictured above by that pretty little pool area near the quaint little village. WARNING: FUN FACT AHEAD! “Geshe” is what we call anyone who has received their geshe degree, which is what you get after graduating from monk school. “La” is added to the end of any name to denote respect of an elder or teacher. For instance, the professor at Emory who helped start the program we call Tara-la. I will return home and want to call my mom “eema-la”) gave us a rather lengthy introduction to meditation. We meditated for about 5 minutes, but it had been a while for me, so it felt like a good 2 hours. I was also only able to concentrate on not falling asleep. No good, I’ll have to work on that one. Later that night we also waited up together to watch the inauguration. This night was one of the best times I’ve had so far, which is saying a lot because every hour is amazing. At 10:30PM (which is late for us) about 12 of us piled into a bed and turned the tiny TV up to full blast. We were so excited and were giggling uncontrollably. We stood with the rest of DC when Obama took the podium, held hands excitedly as he took the oath, and yelled and jumped around the room clapping when he was declared president. We could hear a similar raucous happening at our Indian next-door neighbor’s house.

This morning we found ourselves in Jeeps traveling the last two hours to Dharamsala. The views on the way were stunning, and I don’t use that word lightly. We saw our first glimpse of the Himalayas and Tawni-la, our program coordinator, squealed and made the driver stop so we could get out and truly appreciate the view (this is actually a view of the Himalayas from the HHDL's personal monestary in Mcleod Ganj, but you get the point). During half of the trip Tawni-la also drilled us on the Sanskrit alphabet, their sounds, and vowels. I rock at it, not gonna lie. By the time the trip was over I could sound out most words. Remembering the words is super hard though b/c there isn’t any sound that is remotely like English, Spanish, or Hebrew. Tibetan is a whole other ball game. For most of the alphabet, there are four letters that have exactly the same sound except with different intonations. You mispronounce one character by even a little bit and you have a completely different word or you make no sense at all. Anyway, the other half of the trip was us ogling at the views, stopping for chi in the middle of the road at a cattle crossing, and me playing the guitar from the floor of the jeep with everyone making up words to songs.

As we neared the Sarah (pronounced Sah-ra) University campus Courtney-la, our program assistant coordinator, started crying because she was so happy. I, personally, felt like I was returning to summer camp, even though I’ve never been anywhere near Sarah. Once we arrived we were greeted by a group of monks who placed blessed white cada, or scarves, around our necks. We were led into our dinning room where the students at Sarah had decorated it with pictures and welcome signs written in broken English expressing their hope for the exchange of knowledge and friendship, Sarah as a second home, and advice to live life fully while here. It was surprisingly moving finally reaching the campus and being welcomed so warmly that many of us, myself included, found ourselves hugging each other in tears.

Went on a tour of the campus, which is unbelievably beautiful, despite the shotty buildings by American-standards. The roofs are used just as often as the ground and we all sat up there for sometimes reflecting while taking in the scenery – which was substantial as the Himalayas can be seen pretty much anywhere you look. We then finally met our new roommates. We could tell they were just as nervous and excited as us. No one wanted to initiate contact and we kind of stood around giggling nervously. After awkward silence passed into awkward charades, as none of them speak great English, I found my perfect roommate. Her name is Choezin, but I call her Ani-la, which means Respected Nun, as a pet name. Ani-la crossed the Himalayas in 1994 to escape Tibet without shoes. Her brother is a monk in Southern India while her parents and her sister stayed in Tibet. She hasn't seen her parents since 2003 when they came to visit, which is a relatively short time since everyone else I've talked to haven't seen their families for upwards of 10 years. She also happens to be the funniest, sweetest person I've ever met. On Saturdays, the entire campus gets together and has a campus clean up. I've never seen anything like it. We were singing and laughing and dancing around (except for the monks and nuns, who aren't allowed to sing our dance). Today it was Choezin's turn to clean the dining hall. I helped her out and I've never had so much fun cleaning anything. She had me rolling on the floor laughing the whole time. She thinks our language barrier is the funniest thing in the world. Last night I offered her tea (we have about 900 cups of tea a day), to which she replied "no, no, I already drunk." I, of course, thought she was referring to alcohol and said "Ani-la! What would the Buddha think?!" She said "...he think I like tea."

Today I woke up to monks debating in the courtyard. When monks debate they get really loud and excitedly clap their hands whenever they make a point. The girls on the trip have come to the conclusion that monks are the most attractive people on the planet... probably because they're so unattainable. Unfortunately, you're not supposed to have unclean thoughts about monks...but I'm allowed to look, right? Probably not. I also decided that today I shall shower. It will be the highlight of my day. It’s been about four days. I'm getting really good at using the squat toilet and the weather here is perfect. I was expecting cold and sub-zero temperatures, but I'm in a t-shirt and flip-flops. It’s wonderful. Oh also, yesterday I beat a rug outside on a balcony overlooking the Himalayas. Its times like that when I feel like I'm still in a movie. It STILL hasn't hit me that I'm here yet. I'm waiting for India to punch me in the face. Anyway, time to get out of this Internet cafe; it’s a good 2 rupees a minute.

Hope all is well in the States and I miss everyone!

I now leave you with this image of a goat on a leash. It is my favorite picture I've taken so far.

So...Today was Day 6, Right?

Wrong. Day 1 went on forever, but in a good way. Except for the jet lag everything is amazing (its 5:30 AM and I’ve been up for two hours). And no one’s been stolen from or had their stomach explode yet! Great success!

We started with orientation yesterday morning. We learned a whole bunch of useful things; like how to use a squat toilet, how not to offend people with the bottoms of our feet and left hands, and how to fend off Indian men with dishonorable intentions. We then moved on to our first excursion: the Bangla Sahib, a Sikh Gurdwara where Sikhs go to worship the Book of the Gurus. Sikhism, in a nutshell, is pretty much the humanitarian aspects of both Muslim and Islam – but if a Sikh heard you say that, they’d get really offended. The Bangla Sahib was a huge beautiful temple-like thing that smelled fantastic. We were required to cover our heads and take off our shoes and “clean” our feet in some deliciously murky water. We sat in the temple for a while people-watching. So far, that temple is the only place no one stared at us. I’ve been feeling more and more like an exotic animal. We then walked clockwise around a big pool of water filled with carp used for ritualistic bathing. Clockwise is pretty much the direction for all religious rituals except for the “bone ritual,” which has yet to be explained to me. This particular excursion ended with accepting a gooey sugary deliciousness taken as a sort of communion.

We then moved on to a South Indian Temple where we all gave flower garland offerings to the Goddess of Auspicious Beginnings – which was appropriate. In return for our offering, we all got our first red forehead dot. We also acquired a little 3+ yr old Indian boy as our team mascot. He is probably the cutest freaking thing I’ve ever seen. He took immediately to us and started climbing over everyone and swinging from the guys’ arms and hugging everyone. He took this picture of himself on my camera. Cute, huh! He followed us for a good five minutes, holding peoples’ hands. We were just beginning to wonder if this was considered kidnapping when his mother caught up with us. She had a hard time convincing him that he was in fact, not American, and needed to stop hiding behind our legs and come back.

Hopped our first metro to Old Delhi where we formed a caravan of 10 rickshaws to carry us through the ridiculously narrow and crowded streets of the Kinari Bazaar. We decided rickshaws would be safer and faster for a large group of India-first-timers. Safer? No way – at least not for the people we ran into. It was quite a roller coast ride. And when I say roller coaster, I mean I literally felt like I was on a roller coaster straight out of Magic Mountain. And I have never felt more exposed and touristy than during those 20 minutes when I was a white American woman sitting above the crowd taking pictures of everything, holding onto my purse for dear life, and avoiding eye contact with Indian men like it was my job. And faster? Doubtful. Our caravan caused a traffic backup of epic proportions. It was ridiculously fun, though. Quite an experience. I hear one never forgets their first rickshaw.

The rickshaws dropped us off at Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India. It was my first mosque – it was really a day of firsts for me. I also saw my first yak. Anyway, I was literally blown away by the mosque. It was huge (could fit 20,000 people) and beautiful. We again had to cover our heads and ditch our shoes (my feet were getting pretty black by this time) before we stepped into the open-air courtyard. The ground and the sky were filled with pigeons with little kids chasing them around the center pool. We had to pay a good 200 rupees (a whopping $4.10) to bring a camera inside, so I could only take this one picture outside the mosque. Smudge on face = red dot. Thought in head = Hi, Mom and Dad! Look! I'm in India!

Autorickshaws took us to the Indira Gandhi Center for the Arts for a Northeast India performance of native songs and dances. Oh, autorickshaws, where do I start… I swear we were going to hit everything within in a ten-foot radius. I had to keep myself from yelling “watch out! You’re gonna hit that bus and kill us all! Hey! You almost ran over that baby! What are you doing?!” At one point, after a particularly complex merge, Becky and I just looked at each other and I said “holy hell, I can’t believe we crossed that street.” Anyway, I’m sure the performance at the Arts Center was lovely, but I don’t know b/c I fell asleep in my chair.

India is endlessly fascinating but it still hasn’t sunk in that I’m actually here. Parts of Delhi look straight out of Disneyland and the smog that creates a haze over everything gives it a feel of unreality. Even the hard evidence of my presence in India, such as my disgustingly dirty feet, my black boogers, the roll of toilet paper stashed in my bag, and my newly formed habit of looking right instead of left before crossing the street doesn’t make it feel any more real. Maybe today will feel more like India now that the initial culture shock is over and my stomach is getting accustomed to the spice.

Today we meet Double H DL, His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Yep, two days in India and we’re already rolling with the big dogs.

Arrived in One Piece!

Hello from New Delhi!

After a perfectly uneventful 14 hour plane ride and another hour drive in the craziest bus ride of my life, I've arrived at the YMCA Tourist Hostel in Delhi. There are 17 students including myself and I think we're all going to get on wonderfully.

The plane was great. I had a row to myself, except for the little Indian boy who liked to climb over me to press his face up to the window periodically. There were tons o' babies. Babies were everywhere. My friend, Becky, and I split a bottle of wine and killed an hour baby-watching. Great fun. Customs was a breeze but once we got to baggage claim we felt like caged exotic animals. Everyone was staring at the hoard of American students toting backpacking backpacks and money belts. But, we were staring too. Actually, I don't really know who started the staring, us or them.

The second I stepped out of the airport I was run over by an autorickshaw. Ok I lied. But he came a little too close for comfort. We all piled into a rickity bus with the word "TOURIST" emblazoned on the windshield...in case anyone was confused by the busload of white people staring and pointing out the windows. The bus ride made me feel like I was living a videogame. There was honking and swearving around bicycles and pedestrians and yelling and speeding. You know how in America there are signs that say "Click it or Ticket." Well, in Delhi they say "Lane driving is sane driving" (I have a picture to prove it). We were definately NOT driving in any particular lane for most of the ride. I decided it was better just not to watch.

Anyway, its not 9:30 PM here...which means I should have been asleep 8 years ago. Goodnight and tashi delek!

Nine Days and Counting!

I'm unbelievably psyched. My 16+ hour flight to India is in nine days. I've been busy these last two wks running around the entire greater San Diego area preparing to leave. I got my Japanese Encephalitis shots, 23 winter coats, a brand spanking new camera, an account with the Bank of India, and more meds than I know what to do with (I cleared out the CVS Pharmacy of Emergen C - many weird looks. Naturally, I told ogling onlookers of my verminophobia and that I had a very serious addiction to Emergen C). I've also tried to ween myself off of meat since mid-December so I don't have to go cold-turkey when I get to Dharamsala (haha, get it...turkey... ya know, the meat product?... oh c'mon you guys! It was a good joke). Anyway, I've failed miserably in that endevor but it was a valiant effort.

On a more somber note, in these last two wks I've also had to say a lot of goodbyes. This past semester was the best yet of my college career and when I come back in the Fall it will be durastically different - an inevitability that I might just avoid by not coming back from India at all (yeah, how do you like that one! "Change" can suck it.). A lot of my close friends will have graduated, my Little will be abroad, and I'll be just another Senior with no legitimate life plan. Awesome. I also won't be seeing many of my friends in SD for the better part of a year - also lame, esp since you guys are some of the greatest people I have ever known. I'm seriously in awe of how awesome you guys are and what great friends you've been over the years. So, to my friends and family (blood-related and otherwise) in both Atlanta and Calif, eventhough I've already said it (or at least implied it), and I'll be saying it again and again over the next months, just know that I'll be missing you every day and there is nothing more important to me in the world than our friendship. I love you all.

Until next time I procrastinate, tashi delek.