Arti Part(y) 1

One of the main things to do in Varanasi is to go to the Ghats and watch the Artis, which are the prayers to the goddess of the Ganges. There is one very famous, touristy one that we went to that had so much pomp and circumstance to it that I thought it deserved multiple posts (I also took about 300 pictures, and I want to display all of my handiwork). The first set of pictures are of our trip to the Arti and the area around the ghat, called Godolia circle (no one knows the right spelling so that is my approximation). The area is very dense and colorful with tons of shops and people trying to get your attention. On my way there I got hit by a cycle rickshaw (pictured next to the horse). It left a really impressive bruise. The next installation: at the water front. Stay tuned.

Love,

Violet

P.S. A very good example of Indian frankness and different sorts of flattery and etiquette presented itself yesterday. One of my friends Tanya was looking at pictures of my family with me. She looked at the picture of our family in front of the cape house and said: your mother is reeeally beautiful. I said: thanks, I know. Then she said: no, like really beautiful, like definitely more beautiful than you. I was still flattered, but no exactly sure what I was supposed to take from that. So to Jessica: you still got it!

Taaza: Pechan Manch

I have been the tattoo lady for the last week. While visiting friends in Jaipur I got Mehendi (or Henna, I was told by my Hindi teacher that Henna is the Urdu word and Mehendi is the Hindi word, who knew?) on both sides of my arms (first picture). Shortly after, when I arrived in Varanasi, the other interns and I (two of them, Michelle and Pyper in the third picture) were taken to a competition hosted by Taaza, a big tea company. NIRMAN was to be one of the expert judges. The point (pechan manch) was to realize your potential. There were tons of women there doing a variety of crafts as well as cooking and mehendi. Things started particularly late, even for Indian standards, because of the rain, so by the time things actually got started we were hungry, tired, had seen everything to see, and had heard the two jingles that they were playing on loop about 100 times each (I still have them memorized..."Taazaa hooonnnee..."). So I went to look at the different people doing Mehendi right in front of us. The girl almost directly in front of our booth was very sweet and very good. I don't remember if we asked or she offered, but eventually all of us were covered. We didn't have to pay, instead we had to come on stage to be judged for the competition. Due to some confusion the three of us in the picture ended up seated in the celebrity box at the very front of the stage with the winner of the Indian equivalent of Top Chef. All of a sudden we were called on stage. The announcer had been running games and raffles from up there, which by now we had all tuned out until she called us up. She asked us some questions about how we liked the event, we answered and then she said we had to sing a song. We were not pleased, but after audience clapping etc, we gave in. But we couldn't think of what to sing. What did we all know? What would we definitely not mess up? That's how I ended up standing on stage right in front of a minor Indian celebrity, my boss and all the other people immediately above me at NIRMAN, and about 300 women in the audience singing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star". I still get stopped places and asked if I was at Taaza Manch.

Love,

Violet

Finally in Varanasi!

After a huge snafu with my train reservation, I finally arrived in Varanasi. The campus of the school I will teach at is really cute. All the buildings are brightly colored and laid out in the traditional architecture style, with an open courtyard in the middle and rooms all around. The rooms are small and decaying (they are in the process of building a new guesthouse) but they are certainly colorful and decorative. Right now I am doing teacher training, which is super interesting. There are just some things that they insist on for the school that are natural for the American teachers but really difficult for the Indian teachers. So Nita-ji the person running training, a professor in California, runs the class in the same way she would run any classroom, simultaneously telling the teachers how to train their students to raise their hands, and training the teachers to wait their turn, not interrupt, and raise their hand. The result is that anyone who calls out is ignored. Making some pout and others gloat at having remembered to raise their hand. This coupled with the fact that we all sit on a circle on the floor, and occasionally play games that reduce even the older men to giggling, reminds me of a bizarre grown up pre-school. It really is a lesson in good education pedagogy. Off to breakfast, more later.

Love,

Violet

Fishy Feet

Yesterday, I hung out with my friend Sfoorti. She decided to enable my Jaipur spa habit, so we went for pedicures. Before the actual, nail painting one, she said we had to go somewhere else first. That's how I ended up sitting with my feet in a tank getting nibbled on by probably around a hundred little fish. It was a very strange feeling, especially when they got between my toes. However for my over analyzing brain, the thing I freaked myself out about was the whole eating dead skin thing. Thinking about the mechanics just freaked me out.

This morning I am getting ready to check out of the Red Fox, and get on my 16 hour train ride to Varanasi. Wish me luck!

Love,

Violet

Lal lomadri: Red Fox Hotel

So, I'm staying at this hotel that I was moved to when my inn was hosting a wedding. It's very nice and comfortable, but basically caters to business men and families from abroad (but Indian) and those coming to Jaipur from other Indian cities. As a result, when I go eat breakfast and other meals in the cafe (clever fox cafe, or chatur lomadri, as my teacher and I affectionately translated it to), the people working there can only muster the courage to ask me my room number about half the time. I pretend I don't see them nudging each other just beside me before they either chicken out or finally ask me. It's pretty adorable. That and somehow when my doorbell rings for maid service, it always takes 3 people to ask me if I need any more towels or water. Gotta love the service.

Love,

Violet

P.S. Why are there white people in these new bollywood movies for real, like as a real character?! It should be me!

I'm baaaaack!

Hello all,

So I'm back in India. I flew from New York to Dubai and then Dubai to Delhi, then took a bus from Delhi to Jaipur. I'll be in Jaipur for a couple days and then I'm taking a train to Varanasi. While in Delhi, I had a 45 minute conversation with my taxi driver in Hindi, it's nice to know I haven't gotten completely rusty. He told me to watch out for Nigerian drug dealers. I haven't had a chance to see any of Jaipur yet, but it certainly smells the same. I never thought that the smell of humidity and burning tires would be soothing, but it is. It's nice to be back somewhere familiar for a bit. Due to jetlag, I have seen a lot of the inside of my hotel room. Luckily I have 24 hour- MTV Indian music videos to keep me company. Although it's having a subliminal message sort of effect on my temporally confused mind. I keep coming to the conclusion that I should either: run away to Mumbai to become one of the white back up dancers in all of the movies, spontaneously break into song and dance, or dress exclusively in neon polyester. Perhaps all three. I'll keep you posted on what happens.

Love,

Violet