Week 3

Right now it is Sunday afternoon.  I am sitting in the same place that I have been for the last two and a half hours, faced with the same predicament with which I have been faced for the last two and a half hours, and I am forced to admit that the internet not working for a seemingly unapparent reason for the last two days is the most frustrating occurrence that I have encountered in my time here.  It’s not just that the internet won’t work and no one knows why, it’s that, dammit, I have shit to do.  Not important shit, but shit that requires the internet.

That’s not even entirely true.  It’s nothing that I need to do.  And it’s kind of a sad realization that my mild state of panic results simply from the inability to message the various people whom I care to message or who care to message me, or to write pithy Facebook comments that no one will think are quite as funny as I think they are, or to look at cat pictures and read poop stories on Reddit (we all do, so shut up).  This post will not be entirely on the technology-dependent society we all know and love, but it really is a sobering sense of isolation and entitlement that I’m feeling.  Seriously, I’m in India, bitching about the internet… I’ll go on a walk or something when it cools down from the 40 degrees it currently is. For those of you not Celsius-savvy, that’s fucking hot.

Anyway, I feel like I have so much that I want to share with you, with everyone.  If I knew that no one would ever read this, I could write forever about how I feel (and not just because I’m a girl and have an endless supply of emotion that needs to be talked about).  But honestly, a blog is an edited diary to appeal to an audience, and I assume that to my audience, to you, the reader, the cool new India stuff is the most exciting (which it is), so let’s have a weekly update!

A Weekly Update…

I spent this week with the Sadhu Vaswani mission’s mobile health van, which is a van that travels to various über-rural villages in the area (like, villages that you have to take a one-lane dirt road half an hour out to get to), offering completely free consultations and medicine.  It’s a really cool initiative through a pretty big hospital based in Pune, and based on the amount and difficulty of travel to these villages as well as the condition of the villagers’ health, probably the only medical attention available to these areas.

I’ve noticed that the more rural I travel, the more I stick out and people stare.  I was surely a spectacle and my mangled Marathi didn’t help.  Just when I got the hang of some choice Hindi, I get into the backwoods of India and a whole other language.  Luckily, “student,” “English,” and “toilet” are all pretty understandable.  Swear words are also readily understood and respected (just kidding?).

I visited eight villages in five days and distinctly remember what I thought about each of them and what stuck out to me.

Katkerwadi:  A woman named Asha showed me around her village and insisted I take pictures with all the children, who, like me, were all excited to do so. And, oh my god, it’s hot.

Katkerwadi

Takerwadi:  As a group of guys sat aloofly against the wall of the schoolhouse, smoking cigarettes and throwing me “the look,” I remember thinking that early-twenty-something men are the same no matter where you are in the world.  And, oh my god, it’s hot.

Takerwadi

Saltar:  This was a village high in the incredibly scenic mountains, which reminded me of the setting in that movie that I never actually watched all the way through, like alien Pocahontas… Avatar.  And, oh my god, it’s hot.

This thing goes to the middle of nowhere - a bunch of middles of nowheres.
It's pretty cool

Majgaon:  This one is actually pretty sad, but there was a stray kitten that I saw wandering around.  It eventually made its way to me and I noticed how underfed and weak it was.  The animal cruelty here, both intentional and unintentional, is one of the hardest things to see every day.  There is a ridiculous amount of stray animals that are neglected and left to fend for themselves and inevitably reproduce.  To realize that this kitten would definitely die and there was nothing I could do about it was a helpless and defeating moment.

Have some more scenery pictures

Ahrosh: I was invited into a home of a woman and her three children to play with their youngest, Doksh, who taught me the names of various body parts in Marathi and gave me a glass of Sprite.  And, oh my god, it’s hot.

This family was way too kind to this illiterate American student...

Atkergaol:  I finally got to pet a goddamn cow. And, oh my got, it’s hot.  I didn’t know I could sweat there…

Cows like to eat trash...
:)

Ambegaol:  At the Himgiri ashram, I ate cross-legged on the floor of an open hall, next to thirty other people, with my hands.  Actual Indian food is quite a bit spicier than the food prepared specifically for the group of us students.  It’s now as hot in my mouth as it is outside.

Good thing I have lots of practice sitting on a hard floor, eating rice with my hands.
#college

Mangal: I’ve now seen fungus in someone’s ear canal, and it was awesome.  You get the point about it being hot by now, I’m sure.

I am pretty much a giant here. A big, sweaty, American giant.
Who can take the fuck out of your blood pressure.

These folks at Sadhu Vaswani made it a really incredible week for me.
There were five cameras taking this picture at this point,
hence the distraught look on my face...
I've never had so many close-up, in-your-face pictures taken of me

And here are some pictures of other cool stuff I saw over the week!!

This is Lions Point, which looks over a valley near Lonavla.
It was just starting to rain, which made for an interesting view.

Looking over the ledge.  During the rainy season,
the valleys are full of rivers and waterfalls.

And here's just a monkey, chilling in the wild

And a camel!!

Pataleshwar Cave Temple - a Hindu temple carved as a cave in the 700s CE.
It got pretty dark further in, but the cave is huge and all very intricately carved.
It's a temple still, people come to worship Shiva.

This is Shaliwar Wada, a fort built in the 1700s for protection against the British

Week 2

It’s been another week that I have been abroad, and one might think that I’m getting the hang of this whole India thing.  That person would be mistaken.  Let me first tell you the Lizard Story…

A Lizard Story

Thursday night began like any other night – I arrived home around 9:00 after my placement at a pediatric hospital, I shoveled food into my face, and I took a shower from a bucket of water that I had the forethought to fill up earlier that day, counting on the water being out (I’m uncannily good at predicting when certain utilities will not be available for my use, and I think it’s because of my desperation to never be without a shower for four Indian days again.).  After washing away the dirt and perma-sweat of the day, I was feeling fresh and happy, like a Dove shampoo commercial, you know?  And I was completely in my own world, gliding out of the washroom with the scent of anything but dirt and perma-sweat accompanying me.  I can’t say for sure, but I think to think that my mind was in a far-off state of peace and wonder, defining and compartmentalizing the new aspects of Maharashtran culture I was being exposed to each day and allowing them to permeate and affect me, as any big ass culture shock should.   My state of relaxation was interrupted, however, by the sight of the lizard, nay a dinosaur.

A really small dinosaur...

Anyway, it was right by my foot when I noticed it and it effectively scared the hell out of me.  I then made one of those reactionary noises you usually make when you’re scared, not a scream or a gasp or a jump, but a totally unattractive combination of those three, resulting in kind of a burp-spasm.  It was enough to get the attention of my Canadian comrades who were assuredly doing more important things downstairs, but nevertheless came to my aid, by which I mean, helped me chase this lizard around my room with a plate and a pot, attempting to humanely capture the imposter.  After ten minutes of failed attempts and screaming (and one moment of shocked silence when we were sure that it was dead after it shed its tail still writing and twitching, in the vain hope of escape), our plight was alleviated when a Woman In Charge, who we had woken up at this point, walked in the room, unaffectedly scooped up the lizard, and placed out outside on the balcony, and then went back to bed.  I was left to dispose of the tail.

À la Eat Pray Love, I’ve discovered a lot about myself in India, namely that I am not the hot shit I once thought I was.  It was such a small lizard…

A Week of Proceedings

Overlooking the Lizard Incident, I’ve been adjusting pretty well to India.  I spent this past week at two hospitals, Kamat and Parakh Hospital, observing different clinics, procedures, and patients.  I was able to get more hands-on this week, listening to hearts and breathing (OMG, I feel so cool using a stethoscope) and palpating for an enlarged spleen or a fetus’ head, and I’ve learned a lot about diagnosis in such a rural and financially limited environment.  Blood and urine tests are taken sparingly, and if a diagnosis can be determined (somewhat accurately) without one, are an unnecessary financial burden to most patients.

One of my placements in Lonavla, Kamat Hospital, where there are two Dr Kamats,
a husband and wife who are goddamn adorable.

Parakh Hospital is a pediatric hospital and like most places here,
isn't as dumpy on the inside as it looks on the outside.

I often think about the differences between Indian and western health care, the benefits of each setting, and how it could be improved.  It’s a lot of tedious rambling, so I won’t go into it, but one of the reasons I was so excited for this opportunity was because I wanted to see if this area of healthcare was one that I would be interested in and could effectively be a part of as a foreigner, and only two weeks in, I am inspired and excited because I truly believe that it is.  I don’t know how or if my opinions will change during the next 10 weeks, but there is a whole fucking world of opportunity here and it is enthusing as hell.

Catching up…

As I’ve mentioned, I have company now (thank god) in the form of a group of ten students from Toronto in design school.  As an aside, in my experience of the last week, people from Toronto don’t have the respect for their mayor that I do.  They are working with a few women and children-focused organizations and I don’t see them much during the day, but they’re all really great.  We had a Bollywood movie night (spoiler: there’s dancing and they fall in love), during which I discovered what can only be described as the PBR of India (it’s called Kingfisher and is cheap and does the job –the job of being beer) and met an ex-Bollywood actress (which is kind of common, I’ve discovered, they’re everywhere).

Also, I just noticed I’m using a lot of parentheses that I’m not going to go back and change, but might be a stylistic faux pas.  So, sorry, linguists?

The whole group, the Canadians, all the people in charge, and I, went to dinner at a Punjabi dhaba the other night, which is like an Indian roadhouse, which was cool, because so. much. food.  And that’s all I have to say about that.

The Sighu Punjabi Dhaba, where there is butter chicken.
I do love butter chicken...

The three liquids one needs in India:
Chai, water, and beer

I really love the area that I’m in.  Lonavla is an interesting mix of bustle and rural, offering both clothing, fabric, jewelry, produce and general shops while being only a few kilometers away from centuries old Buddhist caves.  Malavli is absolutely beautiful as well and sometimes reminds me of Southern Utah (with a lot more green).  Here, have some pretty pictures of these amazing places!

A really beautiful river, whose name I cannot honestly remember
that runs through Malavli

The Baja Caves, which were built in the 2nd century BCE
and is a Buddhist temple carved into the rock

Nothing has been restored, so the carvings and wood panels are all
original BCE dated.

I posted this to Facebook, but I really do love this picture
Lonavla from the train station right at sunset

Because I have weekends off, they are a great time to travel and do fun things, you know, like weekends generally are.  I have a list of places all over India that I would like to go, and will really try to get to eventually.  The main thing holding me back is the fact that I don’t really want to go alone… As much as I see myself as a brave and adventurous and competent international traveller, I think I may overestimate myself.  So, if and when I do get to Goa and Jaipur and Delhi and Agra and Chennai, I’ll let you know, but in the meantime, it’s solo trips to Pune.  Which reminds me of yesterday.

A Day in Pune

The group from Toronto went to Mumbai, leaving me alone for the weekend.  Pune is only an hour train ride away, and I had been there for a grand total of an hour before, so, “Shit,” if figured, “why not?”  I made a list of all the places I wanted to see and got on the train.  I wanted to start with the Katraj Snake Park at the Rajiv Gandhi Zoo because it was the furthest away and I figured I could make my way back to the train station, stop by stop.  Long story short, I am not as good at bartering in Hindi as I thought and am not as good at standing my ground as I thought.  One thousand rupees later, I got a ride to the zoo.  One hundred rupees later, I had one ticket for me and one ticket for the autorickshaw driver to the zoo.  Two hours later, I had gotten to know Swish personally and had been invited to have dinner with his family and to meet his son, who was a lawyer and available.  I politely declined.

Also I would like to note that only an hour and a half of my time was spent looking at snakes and other animals, and the other half hour was spent taking pictures with locals.  People, especially children, would run up to me from the distance to ask for a picture.  Parents would point me out to their children and then photograph them with me like I was an animal from the zoo that had somehow escaped its cage and was wandering around the promenade.  It sounds like I am complaining, but I’m not.  It was just shocking.  I don’t know if it was simply because there aren’t many white people in the area, because I’m so tall, or because I was being confused with someone else. In any case, it was exhausting, so by the time I left the zoo, I was ready to shower (of course) and sleep.

One of many group pictures with groups of people at the zoo
They insisted I take one with my camera as well, and now I realize
just how tall I am...

I was planning on a new attack on Pune today, armed with new negotiating Hindi phrases and American overpowering confidence, but then I got diarrhea (or the loose motions, as it’s referred to here).  So I haven’t left the house today.  It’s good catching up, huh?

Week 1

An Introduction

I have been in India for a week now.  A week during which I have survived a storm, the likes of which I have never personally seen; been a part of both the overpowering population density of Mumbai and the purposeful bustle of the rural village, Malavli, in which I’m staying; eaten some of the best food (with certain caramel-laden exceptions) I’ve yet experienced with names that I’m trying desperately not to mangle; rode on a wonderfully terrifying train, hanging on to my purse with one hand and the side of the express line from Pune to Lonavala with the other; and pissed in a squatting toilet with no toilet paper in sight.  It has been a good week.

This is the naïve face of a girl who has never had to squat to piss without toilet paper.

I was hoping to write an entry much earlier than this, but because of the mental and physical effort associated with arriving at a completely new and utterly different environment, I have spent most of my free time sleeping.  I guess a week in is as good a point as any to start a blog though.  But before I do, I want to clarify the reason that I’m writing this:  It’s because I think India is fucking cool and if you do too, then hopefully you’ll enjoy reading on.

A little bit of background information...

In February, I made the decision to come here.  I’m going through ISA (International Studies Abroad) and doing one of their ELAP (some service-learning acronym) programs.  I saw that there was a program that focused in rural and urban healthcare in India and I made the down payment that night.  Because I don’t half-ass anything, I put in my application for 12 weeks, the longest available program.  Also, I’ve always wanted to run away. 

An Arrival in India

Several vaccinations, fucked final exams, and a last minute trip to San Francisco for a visa later, I arrived at the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport in Mumbai.  The second I stepped off of British Airlines Flight 69 (lol), I was surrounded by heat and humidity.  My first thought was to call bullshit on all the people who had told me that this was to be “dry heat” before the monsoons hit.  Dry heat, my ass. Relative to Utah, Mumbai was in no position to claim “dry.”  Overall, however, I was just excited to get out of the airport and see the city.

**One of the most irritating things in the world is when you are not blessed with the luxury of a window seat on an airplane and those who are so blessed cover their windows.  I hate these people.**

I suppose this is the part where I describe my first impressions of the country I’ve been dreaming of visiting for years.  This is almost impossible to do with any accuracy because my first impressions of India were a violent attack to the senses.  What I could feel, hear, see and smell were delivered in such an abundance that to accurately portray my experience would be like trying to describe god to a penguin or Justin Timberlake to the deaf – it simply cannot be done.  But, here goes… I’ve already mentioned it was hot and humid, but in the back of creaking, air condition-less taxi, I fully appreciated the heat.  Immediately after leaving the airport premises, I found myself in the middle of a slum, a real Slumdog Millionaire slum.  Thousands of people, milling about between cramped convenience stores and food vendors, surrounding a density of cardboard and sheet metal shacks, sometimes just tarps held up by branches and rope. I began to appreciate the smell of Mumbai.  The scents of trash and feces that one would typically associate with such a place were there, but subdued behind those of cooking food, incense, and sweat.  But honestly, the thing that struck me the most about this new and exciting world was the traffic.  It scared the hell out of me.  A combination of many small things was to blame. For instance, the fact that India drives on the other side of the road – a fact that I have been having a hard time remembering when crossing the street. Also, 100% of the time, someone is honking his or her horn. I’ve learned that the horns are used copiously to alert other drivers that someone is stopping, turning, approaching, passing, or for the usual “get out of my way, asshole” sentiment. So it's loud. Lane designations are also not heeded in the slightest, so there can be two bikes and a car in one lane, all trying to get past each other before overtaking the huge truck ahead. Despite this, the drivers of thousands of cars and millions of motorcycles, mopeds and autorickshaws maneuver with the grace of madness in between each other and pedestrians with centimeters to spare and the aloof attitude one only gains from having their shit down pro.

When the first ride in a new country has zebra/tiger print seat covers, you know you made a good decision.

                       

This was one of the first sights of Mumbai.  There will be more pictures when I return in five weeks.

This melody of smell and sound and emotion remained consistent during my short cab ride to the apartment that will be my place of residence when I stay in Mumbai.  For the next six weeks (now five), however, I will be in Malavli, south-west-ish of Mumbai.

A Week in Malavli

I could go through this day by day, but that sounds tedious for everyone involved, so I’ll just summarize so far – this is turning out to be quite long, so if you’re still with me (family members only by this point I’m assuming), thanks guys!  So far, I’ve met with four organizations in and around Malavli: Two private health centers, Kamat Hospital and Parakh Children’s Hospital, and two government funded, Malavli Primary Health  Center, and an AIDS rehabilitation center.  Mostly, I’ve been observing the way that rural healthcare centers are ran and how doctors interact with their patients.  I’ve learned a lot about the treatment of common rural diseases and how diagnoses of these conditions are carried out.  I see patients with doctors for around six hours per day and I get to ask them questions and sometimes they even ask me questions, which feels like a pop quiz on a subject I have never taken.  But, good thing I’m anemic and can lay down anemia facts like a boss.  Anemia, as well as other conditions arising from poor nutrition, are very common here.  Gastrointestinal diseases and seasonal diseases like malaria, TB, and rabies are also pretty common.  As unfortunate as these illnesses are, I’m really fortunate that I can see the symptoms present with each of them and the most cost-effective way to treat them.

I also observed two surgeries at Kamat Hospital.  One was a tubal ligation via laparoscopy, which was pretty standard (I imagine).  In the other one, though, a woman had three abscesses in her gluteal muscles. I didn’t know these abscesses were pus-filled until the surgeon cut into one… I won’t describe it, but have you ever watched those videos with people popping ridiculously huge pimples on their backs?  It was kind of like that except multiplied by three and, like, a quart of pus and blood.  I so didn’t almost pass out.

So far, I’m adjusting well and dealing with the inevitable culture shock associated with moving half way around the world.  Some of the differences between India and the US, like the language, weather, gender roles, and religious presence, are fascinating and insightful.  If you were wondering, I speak what can easily be rounded down to zero Hindi and absolutely zero Marathi, the state language of Maharashtra, where I am. I can somewhat read it, but that’s only self-taught and not too reliable.  And if you were wondering, I have not picked up a damn thing in my week here.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  I can buy toilet paper and train tickets. I can ask people their names and sort of have a completely superficial conversation.  So, yeah.  The language barrier is one of the hardest obstacles when I am at hospitals.  Because I’m in a rural area, most people don’t speak English very well and sometimes don’t speak Hindi, just Marathi.  I listen a lot and I’ve picked up some medical words.

Oh, and there are cows everyone.  And that is cool shit. <3

Also, I stick out like crazy – mostly because I’m white, but also because I’m a really tall woman.  I’ve never felt like I’ve been in danger so far, but there have been few times that men on trains or when I’m walking home start getting pretty friendly.  I wear pretty conservative clothes, which isn’t as bad as I thought it would be, heat-wise.  But I do have some Indian kurtis that are always refreshing to wear.

Malavli experiences government-designated power cuts, to divert power to bigger cities like Pune and Mumbai.  The water is also threatening to go out at any time.  Despite this, I’ve been able to take pretty regular showers and have wifi.

The main street in Malavli.
The village is an incredible blend of rural Indian culture and modern technology,
and truly one of the most amazing places I've had the opportunity to be a part of. 

The house that I call home, a.k.a. the Yellow House

I work around five or six hours a day, which is not extraordinary by any means.  So far this week, though, all my free time has been spent sleeping or eating.  I’ve seen most of Malavli and somewhat explored Lonavala where I am for work.  Also, earlier today, I took a trip to Pune, about 60 km away (160 km away from Mumbai), which is one of India’s technology hubs.  It’s also home to the Aga Khan Palace where Gandhi was interned and where he and his wife’s ashes rest.

Aga Khan Palace, Pune, Maharashtra
It says "Here rest the ashes of Mahatma Gandhi."  

Anyway, this is long enough, and you are pretty much caught up with my life of the last week.  If there is anything you are just dying to know or if you just would like to have a lovely conversation, Wifi is available to me here and I would very much welcome it!  Namaste.

"Dude, I'm in India."
-Me