Life in the Land Before Time: साहसिक का in India!

Home for the Holidays!

2011-12-14T06:58:00.000-08:00

Four months in a foreign country have absolutely flown, and it is now time for that last blog post that will brilliantly sum up my personal revelations and concluding insights in a few short but decidedly sweet paragraphs. Um…

The routine power outage that has become as much of my circadian rhythm as taking my daily malaria medication means I now sit in a dark room staring down the blinking cursor on my computer screen struggling with far bigger problems than my rapidly draining battery. At this point in my semester abroad (aka the end, eek) I am finally allowing my thoughts to drift towards home. I am attempting to mentally prepare myself as much as possible for the promised state of ‘reverse culture shock’ that I’m sure will kick in somewhere between Frankfurt and Chicago and be full-force by the time its wheels down in Minneapolis. Symptoms include attempting to remove shoes before entering stores, forgetting that wearing the same outfit for a week is less-than-ideal according to the standards of some, and publicly exclaiming over an endless toilet paper supply in the restrooms, the crazy concept of carpeting, and, this one is really great, drinkable tap water! The disconcerting fact is that I am quite serious when I say that all of these things and many more are basically guaranteed to shock my system upon my return to the States. Honestly, at this point I’m just hoping I can remember how to work a dishwasher. Toss the holiday season and the winter climate into this combination, and who knows what my reaction upon my return will be.

While it is indeed a bit unsettling to contemplate the shock I am heading towards in just three days, at the same time a part of me is excited to have my home become a place where everything is suddenly just as new, novel, and exciting as, say, I don’t know, going to live in India for a while or something. I am looking forward to recognizing a newfound appreciation for the comforts of home that many make do without, and swear that I will never take a refrigerator or a bike with two working wheels for granted ever again (RIP “Beauty” the bike). Living in India has definitely made me appreciate the luxurious life that I enjoy and the true extent of just how incredibly lucky I truly am. While living in the fast-paced scene of a college campus or dealing with the proximity of political turmoil makes it easy to become frustrated with many aspects of American life, being abroad has made me come to appreciate the security and opportunities I enjoy at home that many can only dream of.

My schedule will evolve into a new pattern upon my return to the United States. No longer will I take my malaria medication with dinner, weave between cow herds on my bike rides, or have a power outage be part of a typical day. While it would be easy to assume that these are all aspects of my current lifestyle that I will consider good riddance, I am actually sad to say goodbye to the pastoral simplicity they bestow along with the awareness they have blessed me with. Indeed, it is the smaller moments of my time in India that I now count among my fondest memories. A lack of excess, an absence of greed, and a hospitality so abundant that I feel at home even half-way around the world—this is the India I have come to love.

I can’t even begin to recount my experiences from the last four months in this blog, nor can I properly express my concluding sentiments from the semester. These exchanges can only be accomplished in person, with the help of some photographs, (and the soundtrack to my earth chanting evenings at Auroville, of course) and I can’t wait to share my thoughts and stories with friends and family at home. In the meantime, I am spending my remaining time in India (three days?!) saying some extremely hard goodbyes, basking in the warmest December weather I have ever experienced, finishing up my research project (which produced results that I am quite pleased with!), packing (and re-packing, and re-packing, etc.), and, naturally, spending the whole plane ride home (and I mean all 28 hours of it) figuring out how I just might maybe, somehow come up with some kind of satisfactory answer to that impossible question bound to be heading my way: “So, how was India?”

Cute kids abound

Research? Organic Farming? Both!

Going away party Saree style

I wish I could chat about that snow storm at home, but I really must be getting to the beach...

I have some serious love for Lakshmi the elephant

Namaste

2011-11-25T22:28:00.000-08:00

‘Tis the season to be Thankful, and, even though the Great Turkey Day may belong only to America, I’m feeling the spirit of good fortune and gratitude just as strong here in Asia. Since departing Kodaikanal what seems like forever ago (I realize it has been quite some time since I last posted a blog update) I have seen and experienced things that produced emotions ranging from humbled to dancing around like a small child. Yet despite this array of sentiments, one constant always remains: an appreciation for just how lucky I am to be provided with the opportunities of India. My conscious continuously reminds me that the chance to travel, explore, and educate myself in a foreign country for a third of a year is an opportunity unknown to the majority of my peers. A few predicaments naturally result from this realization, namely 1) I’m still working on figuring out just what I might have done to deserve this, and 2) how to appropriately express my gratitude to those who made it all possible. Since words seem to fail me in the second category, I suppose it is best to just stick to the simple ones. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The beginning of November offered a particular influx of adventure as I set out on my two week travel break to explore North India. The first stop of my journey was, naturally, the Taj Mahal itself. I figured that after I checked the Taj off my India to-do list I could care less about what mysterious illnesses or delayed schedules due to broken down trains afflicted my travels. There are a few things that I consider necessary to calling my semester in India complete, including, among spending some quality time with elephants and watching a Bollywood film, seeing the Taj Mahal. Luckily both good health and good timing were on our side as Gwen, my travel companion for the first part of the break, and I arrived to the Taj at 6am to catch the stunning sunrise and beat the tourist rush. Who needs magic carpet rides and genie lamps? The Taj Mahal is enough Indian enchantment to last you a lifetime.

From Agra (where the Taj is located) we headed to New Delhi, the capital of India brimming to capacity with people, markets,…and goats decked out in tinsel? Apparently our visit to Delhi happened to overlap with a Hindu holiday which, although I didn’t manage to find out the finer details of, involved decorated goats. Only in India. In Delhi we were served up a hearty dose of Indian history, touring the famous Delhi Fort and the Jama Masjid Mosque, the largest in South Asia. After a brave attempt at bargaining in the famous New Delhi markets, Gwen and I gladly left the city scene for the refuge of Dharmasala/McLeod Ganj.

Located in the foothills of the Himalayas, McLeod Ganj happens to be one of the main Buddhist centers of the world and the home of the Dalai Lama. While His Holiness happened to be touring Japan during my stay, his presence was still evident everywhere, from the large Dalai Lama temple in the center of the small town to the monasteries in the mountains with signs asking for silence due to meditating monks. McLeod Ganj was wonderful, and our stay much too short. We lived in a homestay while we were there, complete with home-cooked, organic meals and two extremely adorable puppies. Even though we didn’t have long in McLeod (also referred to as McCloud), Gwen and I managed to do a lot in a small amount of time. We took a momo making class from a Tibetan refuge named Sanjay, went on a trek through the Himalayan foothills to Triund (2,900m), ate delicious Bhagsu cake (found only in the neighboring town of…you guessed it, Bhagsu), and visited Tibetan vendors selling everything from daggers (something tells me customs would not approve) to yak wool shawls. I definitely left a large part of my heart in McLeod, and know a return trip is definitely in my future.

As hard as it was to leave McLeod, I next headed to the last stop of my two-week travels: Darjeeling! Celebrated for its world-famous tea and panoramic overlooks of Kanchenjunga, the third-largest mountain in the world, Darjeeling is yet another settlement located in the Himalayas. As getting there involves a three-hour journey by jeep up a winding mountain “road” Darjeeling is not an easy destination to access, but the views make the effort well worth it. In Darjeeling we set out on an overnight trek for our first two days there, travelling to 3,100 m and passing through…Nepal! There is actually an agreement that allows trekkers to take a pass through Nepal to reach some of the great Himalayan viewing points, so our night on trail was actually spent in another country. I’m glad the arrangement exists, as being in Nepal allowed us a decent vantage point to watch both the sunrise and sunset over Mount Everest. I assure you, goose bumps resulted. Everything about our brief jaunt in Nepal was amazing and inspiring, and I know that someday I’ll be back. Following some tea sampling, a trip the Everest Museum, and a visit to the Darjeeling zoo, it was all-too-soon time to return to the south for study site number two!

I am now spending the last four-and-a-half weeks of my time in India conducting my second research project at Auroville, an ashram with the mission of realizing human unity. Founded by The Mother in 1968, Auroville now is home to almost 3,000 permenant residants, many of which are international. The community holds admirable ideals such as coexistence and environmental protection and preservation, and all the meals I eat here are made with locally produced, organic products. At times Auroville feels a bit more like summer camp than a research site, as they also offer daily activites including meditation workshops, full moon walks, eco film clubs, free vegan dinners, community potlucks, cooking classes, earth chants, and plenty of volunteer work on the numerous farms that supply for the community. My research actually allows me to spend a lot of time on these farms, as for my second project I am studying the impacts of microbial inoculants on seed germination (a practice which offers an organic alternative to chemical fertilizers). I am excited about the study, and enjoy the fact that it allows me to play in the dirt with plants for a large portion of my days. I am living in a hostel with two other girls on the India program (Lauren and Kirsten), and together we are enjoying exploring Auroville, learning more about The Mother and her mantras of wisdom (delivered every morning at breakfast), and meeting the other international students who also study here. I travel around Auroville by bike--a hot pink steed with “beauty” painted on its side complete with a bell and a basket. There are so many more ridiculous stories from Auroville that must be told in person, but definitely look it up if you want more information! In the meantime, with only three-weeks left of my semester abroad, I plan to focus on only 1) all things India and 2) my research. Something about Christmas coming may be a bit of a distraction to that mission, but I plan to try to keep my thoughts centered on my experiences in this part of the world until my plane heads westward at the end of December. Auroville awaits!

Don't you wish all mornings could start off like this?

Delhi Markets

Reward for reaching the top of Triund--holding a day-old baby lamb

Inside the Dalai Lama Temple

My kind of skyline

Our Polish friends do tricks

A Wrinkle in Time

2011-10-29T08:45:00.000-07:00

When I titled this blog ‘Life in the Land Before Time’ so many weeks ago, I could never have guessed at how perfectly the name would come to encapsulate my current feelings. Somehow, without even allowing me the proper courtesy to prepare myself with forewarnings, the luxury of the turning of seasons (absent here on the equator), or the nudging of homesickness, the half-way point of my semester abroad (or rather, the passing of it) has suddenly presented itself to my consciousness. Indeed, India is certainly proving itself to be a place curiously void of the awareness of time as I know it, and as I am now faced with the task of packing and goodbyes in preparation to leave Kodaikanal I can’t help but marvel at the way this place seems to have swallowed my five week stay and transformed it into what feels like a segment of a few contented seconds. While the departure date is arriving much too soon, and my to-do-while-in-Kodai-list has some tasks that may never be met with the satisfaction of a check mark (I guess I’ll just have to come back!), I have experienced and accomplished so much while here that I know the month-long stay, as fleeting as it feels, was indeed time well spent.

I am leaving Kodai with sweet tasting memories (and some sweet tasting honey), an assortment of beekeeping skills, the results of an independent research endeavor, unexpected friendships, and an abundant affection for the Western Ghats mountain range of South India that I have been fortunate enough to call home for the past five weeks. The duration of my stay, while seemingly much too short, has allowed me to adopt an easy familiarity in this hilltop town, where I have scoped out my favorite restaurants, joined weekend pick-up games of Ultimate Frisbee, celebrated the prominent Hindu holiday of Diwali, learned the ways of the Sunday market, and gained an appreciation for the pressing need for the protection and preservation of the incredible ecosystem in this area. My research on the honey bees of the Palni Hills region provided me with insight into their important role in pollinating some of the extremely endangered flora of the Western Ghats, and I’m excited to present the Palni Hills Conservation Council with my results. My research will hopefully assist them in their endeavors to proliferate colonies among tribal villagers as a method of enhancing the environment while also providing a source of eco-friendly, sustainable income. The honey bee does it all!

Admittedly, conducting independent research in a foreign country hasn’t been as sweet as my topic of study suggests. Language barriers, lack of equipment, and monsoon rains that make hive handling impossible are all challenges I encountered solo-style (the downfall to the whole ‘independent’ idea…), yet these obstacles, now overcome, all serve to make the end-product a piece of pure pride on my part (an excel spread sheet full of raw results never looked more beautiful, trust me). My first fiddling about in foreign field work was a lesson in patience and flexibility, but the resulting confidence I gained from the experience couldn’t make for a better souvenir from Kodai. One research project down, one to go! I will now be trading bee colonies for hippie colonies (only kind of kidding…) as I leave the Palni Hills for Pondicherry, where I will conduct research on composting and sustainable agriculture at the Auroville ashram.

Before embarking upon my next research project, however, I am heading north for two weeks for a travel break free from any deadlines or data. After making the traditional Taj stop and dabbling about New Delhi, I will spend the majority of my trip trekking in the Himalayas, exploring the home of the Dalai Lama, and doing my best to take in as much of India as possible in two-week’s time (which I imagine will again prove to pass with inconvenient rapidity ). Needless to say, there is much to look forward to in the remainder of my Indian adventure, and the next time I post a blog update I will have stories of northern explorations to share! While time here continues to disappear into the Indian void of shortened seconds and week-long months, not a day goes by that I do not think of everyone at home. I hope you all are having a lovely fall, and that you enjoy some good tricks and treatin’ on Halloween. At the rate the days are passing here, I will be reuniting with you in what feels like no time! Xoxo

Nothing like a disc and a grass field to make you feel right at home

Diwali Day--the product of super stealth photography skills

Feeling tiny

Little boxes, on the hillside...

Gotta love the Ghats

Visiting a pottery workshop

Pause in Monsoon rains=instant laundry day

Hilltop heaven

Nerdy picture alert--honey samples ready for analysis!

Just hangin' with a hive

Lantana camara, a main forage source for A. cerana but also unfortunately an invasive species

Mission: To Be Where I Am

2011-10-11T07:51:00.000-07:00

While the first portion of my time in India consisted of invaluable cultural immersion and introduction programs through ICSA and CCOORR, the arrival of October brought with it an exciting change of focus to my study abroad adventures. Armed with the knowledge gained from living and learning in downtown Chennai for the last month, the remainder of my stay in India, with the exception of a two week travel break I will embark upon in November, will now consist of conducting my own independent scientific studies on the ecology of India. While it is impossible for me to exaggerate the amazing experiences I enjoyed over the past month in Chennai, the anticipation of exploring my own scientific endeavors and gaining field work experience in a foreign country make it a welcome change.

Travelling on a bus that slightly resembled what I imagine the Knight Bus of Harry Potter to be like (couldn’t resist the reference…) I set out at eight o’clock PM from Chennai with two other students from my group to make the twelve hour, overnight journey to Kodaikanal. The bus had double decker beds, but no bathroom, meaning that we took several stops in the middle of the night to simply pull over on the side of the road. The journey was definitely not for those prone to motion-sickness, as Kodai is located high in the Palni Hills at an elevation of around 7,000 feet. The road we travelled was a switchback path with steep drop-offs on the side, and more often than once I had to hang onto the bars of my bed to avoid falling to the floor as our driver took turns at unnecessary speed. Awaking to the scenery of Kodai beyond my bus window caused me to immediately forget the harrowing drive, however, as the splendor of the sunrise over the Western Ghats commanded my complete attention.

Coming from the polluted and heavily-populated surroundings of Chennai, my first glimpses of Kodaikanal had me convinced that I was still dreaming from my sleep on the overnight bus. Waterfalls cascading through the foliage, flowers in an array of colors dripping from overhangs, and the smell of campfires and the crisp feel of clean, mountain air all led me to determine that I had found a little slice of heaven. It is in this mountain utopia that I have the fortune to conduct my first five-week study. I am living in a small cottage (complete with endearing neighbors who make us chai tea every morning!) on the grounds of the Palni Hills Conservation Council, or PHCC. The council consists of a group of passionate scholars, scientists, and environmentalists devoted to preserving the ecology of the Western Ghats, a mountain range that runs along the South West side of India known for being one of the world’s ten “Biodiversity Hotspots”. The title is well-earned, as the Ghats are home to over 5,000 species of flowering plants, 139 mammal species, 508 bird species, and 179 amphibian species, with many undiscovered species taking up residence here as well. Furthermore, over three hundred of these flora and fauna are globally threatened; making the Western Ghats a great candidate for the endeavors the PHCC has adopted to protect its multifaceted yet fragile environment.

As anyone at Palni Hills Conservation Council will tell you, the splendor of the Ghats is also the very aspect that further necessitates the proactive protection and environmental awareness campaigns they are undertaking in the area. Kodaikanal, with its humbling panoramas and revitalizing mountain climate, offers both a reprieve and a sought-after tourist destination for many Indians who live in the lower altitudes. Increased visitors and tourist traffic across the years has resulted in accumulating pollution, rising mercury levels in the water system, the appearance of typhoid in local aqueducts, deforestation, and the loss of farm land for industrial enterprises. Combined, these elements pose a dire threat to both the fragile health of the tropical jungles and sholas as well as the endangered species who call it home. Studying the biodiversity and ecology of this vulnerable area therefore offers me an opportunity beyond mere scientific experience—through my research I will be able to present Palni Hills with valuable statistics and insight that may ultimately assist in their conservation efforts.

I have devoted the following five weeks of my stay in Kodaikanal to researching Appis cerana, more commonly known as the Indian Hive Bee. While there are four different bee species found in the Western Ghats region, Appis cerana is the only domesticated honey bee. Their pollination practices make the species a crucial aspect to the continuing health of the jungle vegetation and crops cultivated here in the hills. Through my research I will determine the main floral sources of the Appis cerana, thus allowing PHCC to focus on the protection and multiplication of these botanical elements to ensure the continued health of both the colonies and the vegetation they support through pollination. I will also analyze several physiochemical properties of the honey samples I collect. By comparing the antioxidant activity, moisture content, and acidity with the pollen content of each sample I will determine which floral sources yield the highest quality and most nutritional products. My studies have already led me to learn several aspects of beekeeping, and I must say that freshly harvested honey provides a delicious perk to my research!

As I set about collecting samples, analyzing data, and picking up secrets of the beekeeping trade I have settled into a comfortable schedule here in Kodai. I spend many afternoons with Sharrif, the full-time beekeeper at PHCC, as well as with Pippa, my spitfire British adviser who has an invaluable knowledge of the local flora and fauna as well as the best hikes in the area. When not working with these two I often head to the labs at Kodaikanal International School to analyze my honey samples. The campus of KIS is beautiful and slightly reminiscent of St. Olaf, complete with stone architecture and a chapel with a pipe organ. I have “staff” status at KIS, which allows me free internet service and access to lab equipment. It is impossible to deny that I am currently enjoying the ideal setting in which to conduct an ecology experiment, and I can’t help but feel slightly giddy over the fact that I have over a month to spend in this extraordinary location.

Despite this excessive enthusiasm, however, I still find that I must continuously remind myself to restrain my thoughts from flitting backwards to the experiences behind me or flying ahead to the coming months. Even in the peaceful refuge of Kodaikanal I find myself unable to shake the sentiments that preside so strongly at home to plan ahead and formulate the future. These pressures of academia and achievement are at times excessive and inescapable within the realms of American ideals, but while in Kodaikanal I am determined to quell the unremitting demands of the future and embrace the simple sanctuary of living in the moment at hand. While a second research project hovers on the horizon and the demands of life after study abroad beckon from afar, for the next five weeks I am determined to allow my thoughts to wander no further down the timeline of life than my hill station home. In Kodaikanal I am allowed an opportunity almost as foreign to my life at home as my current surroundings: the freedom of days filled with only possibilities, the luxury of a life void of schedules, meetings, and appointments, and the ability to surrender myself to the simple joys of a remarkable environment of exploration.

An excerpt from Swedish poet Tomas Transtromer’s work words these thoughts well. He writes:
"Mission: to be where I am.
Even in that ridiculous, deadly serious
role--I am the place
where creation is working itself out."

It is with these words in mind that I plan to wholly immerse myself into the Indian utopia that surrounds me, allowing my thoughts to flit no further than the exceptional existence of life in the Western Ghats.

Bee Whisperer

The Secret Life of Bees

Inside a Cloud

A five minute hike from my home...

A daily visitor literally right outside our door

Oh, you know, just my new backyard

Swan boat rentals!

Kodaikanal International School

Sunday Market

Hilltop homes

Feast your eyes

The Western Ghats

Bees!

Collecting honey samples!

Our neighbor's dog "Brownie" we've come to love

Home sweet hill station!

Book of Secrets

2011-09-30T09:23:00.000-07:00

I have always held homemade gifts close to my heart, and so it goes with the book that my sister Alyssa made for me before my departure for India. She titled her work “India’s Book of Secrets” and filled the pages with photos, advice, and travel suggestions from her own time studying abroad here two years ago. Interspersed among words of caution concerning the monkeys and photos of the splendors of the Taj Mahal, my sister attempted to tackle the task of describing the overwhelming emotions of India. She included accounts of both the splendor and the suffering she witnessed while in the country, but it is the image at the end of this invaluable insight that ultimately stuck with me the most. The book concludes with a picture of my sister twirling with her arms up as the Indian sun sets behind her, the caption below reading, “One of the best parts of India: dancing with my heart out.” It was only after a week of rural orientation spent at the Christian Council for Rural Development and Research, or CCOORR, that I came to truly appreciate the meaning of her words.

This past week has been filled with yet more memories to add to my growing collection of unforgettable experiences in India. Departing Chennai for the headquarters of CCOORR, I exchanged the pulsing pace of the city for the calmer atmosphere of Thiruvallur, a “village” of 40,000 considered tiny by Indian standards. Constituting an often overlooked corner of the country, Thiruvallur is not known as a sought-after destination for either foreign visitors or Indian natives. It is not highlighted in any travel guides, and those who call it home have more often than not never ventured beyond its borders. Needless to say, it was the perfect site for the rural orientation program designed to prepare our group for the type of environment that we will encounter while conducting our research projects in the coming months.

Travelling on a bus outfitted with neon lights, icons of Hindu goddesses, and a soundtrack of Bollywood songs we set out to experience as much of the rural lifestyle of India as we could absorb in one week. Our guide Amalan was enthusiastic, ambitious, and the definition of Indian hospitality. While he kept us to a full schedule of events each day, he also ensured high energy levels by providing us with the entertainment of his infectious sense of humor, carrying chai tea and “breadjams” all the way up a rocky hike in the hills so that we could enjoy refreshments by a waterfall, and continuously offering to “take a snap” of us with one of our cameras. Amalan’s eagerness to share his village and lifestyle with us was fervent, and I came to love his enthusiastic “lets have a look” that preceded every event he had in mind. I could not have asked for a better host for rural orientation, and under the guidance of Amalan I was offered the opportunity to experience the politics, industries, infrastructure, and family life of rural South India.

Some of the highlights of Amalan’s agenda included talking to a local punjat leader (kind of like the mayor), visiting a government distribution center of free provisions for villagers in need, speaking with the leaders of an HIV/AIDS treatment clinic, discussing the effectiveness of NGO’s and micro-financing in the government offices, and experiencing hands-on work in the industries that support the rural communities. Over the past week I have had the opportunity to embroider sarees alongside a talented team of sisters who support their family through their textile business, talk to tribal farmers whose livelihood depends upon the milk of their cows, witness the difficult working conditions of aluminum and brick-making factories, and spend a morning planting rice in the paddy fields alongside village women. Together these experiences have left me with a deeper understanding of the traditions, hardships, and achievements of life in the rural districts of India.

While learning about the industry and government structure of Thiruvallur provided me with invaluable information, perhaps the most memorable moments of my week with CCOORR were speaking with the villagers themselves. We were treated like family in Thiruvallur, and I quickly lost count of the adorable children who asked my name, the bangles the women placed upon my wrists as gifts of welcome, and the cups of chai tea that I drank in the homes of rural community members. I will never forget the night of our arrival, when I went with two other members of our group to visit a family in their nearby home. We were greeted by an energetic grandmother and mother and about twenty kids from the neighborhood, who proceeded to take us to see the pigeons on their roof, show off their talents on their drum set, and dance to their favorite Indian songs in their living room. The house was brimming with contagious energy and affection, and soon the family had our whole group dancing around the room with them as well. Awkwardly trying to learn the Bollywood dance steps and laughing until it hurt, we soon gave up any attempt at coordination and danced with abandon until evening arrived. It was on this night that I finally came to fully grasp the full meaning of what my sister had written in her book. Spinning in the colorful room, surrounded by the laughter of local children and lively music, I was filled with the joy of simplicity, a night without cares, and the presence of excellent company. As the sun set on my first night at CCOORR, Thiruvallur danced its way into a permanent place in my heart.

Second graders at a private school

A 102-year-old resident at Little Sisters of the Poor, a home for the impoverished elderly

My room at CCOORR for the past week

Traditional welcoming ceremony

Post-welcome ceremony with garlands and sandalwood paste

Government distribution center for free provisions

Aluminum factory

Tribal home

Just plantin' some rice

The Perfection of Love

2011-09-14T05:48:00.000-07:00

Despite living in Chennai for only a little over two weeks the imposing influence of the city is already responsible for an observable change to my character. I am proud to report that by this point I have successfully exchanged my role of a timid tourist for that of a confident traveller. Hailing a rickshaw with assurance, bartering with the best of the locals, navigating the labyrinth-like streets of my surroundings, and dressing in a salwar kameez on a daily basis are all skills that I have adopted and embraced. My interactions with Indians have also progressed from stumbling sentences and flailing hand gestures to genuine conversations, invitations to homes, and even friendships. Furthermore, due to the avid pace of my courses at ICSA of several lectures a day interspersed by fieldtrips, my knowledge of India continues to expand.

This past week in India has led me into both the center of Chennai as well as beyond the city limits. I have put the nine days since my last blog entry to good use, filling them with tours of a pharmaceuticals factory, planting flowers in an Indian garden, visiting a local organization that assists impoverished children, touring a hospital, speaking with community members who suffer from radiation exposure from a power plant in the town of Kalpakkam, exploring the ancient Hindu ruins of Mahabalipuram, discussing the environmental degradation of Tamil Nadu, sipping on chai, touring a crocodile sanctuary, visiting the organic farm of Nallayan, running from territorial monkeys, exploring local restaurants, and attending a theater performance by the students at ICSA. Needless to say, Chennai offers a daily mosaic of opportunity and adventure, and boredom is kept securely at bay.

While each of these events offered invaluable information on India and the culture of my new home, I found one tour in particular to be exceptionally, and unexpectedly, influential. The architectural beauty of the temples and the impressive production of the farms certainly produced lasting impressions, but it was ultimately a trip into the slums of the city that stuck with me the most. Author Gregory David Roberts phrases it best while recounting his time spent in Bombay. He writes, “Every city in the world has a village in its heart, and you will never understand the city unless you first understand the village. Go there. When you return, I will see what India has made of you.” Roberts obviously knew something about the life-changing experiences that can only be found by travelling beyond the tourist-beaten paths. Indeed it was in the often overlooked and unanticipated location of the city slums that my most memorable lessons of this past week were learned.

I nervously anticipated my journey to the slums. I had no idea what to expect, and attempted to fortify myself for exposure to the unspeakable inequities and poverty that linger in the obscurities of the third world. Picturing sickness and starvation, I entered the slums prepared to have my heart burdened by frustrations for the injustices of humanity and sympathy for the abhorrent suffering that I had only ever distantly encountered in the forms of social statistics. Contrary to these premonitions, we were embraced into the slums as honored guests by some of the most beautiful people I have ever been blessed to meet. Walking under rows of colorful clothing hanging to dry on lines, surrounded by the smells of spices coming from women cooking on kerosene stoves, and welcomed by the timid smiles of barefoot children running through the pathways ahead of us we were led into a warehouse where we had garlands of jasmine flowers and roses placed around our necks and sandalwood paste painted on our faces. The women and children of the community then proceeded to perform dance routines for us, basking in our applause and ceaselessly smiling under our approval.

I found that, contrary to what I had anticipated, it was not sympathy that I felt for the people of the slum. Instead, I experienced only admiration. Here were people who were giving us so much despite having next to no material possessions. They had embraced their simple style of living, filling any voids with infectious joy and love. Their pride and mutual respect in their community was obvious and fervent, and as I spoke with the women and heard their stories I felt not the imagined despair over the suffering of the slum but rather overwhelmed by the strength of humanity. The community’s ability to embrace the concealed good in their forsaken world, to grasp the fleeting beauty around them and magnify it until it filled an entire warehouse, was a talent few can claim to have mastered. They may have been illiterate and uneducated, but it was I who was learning an unforgettable lesson from them. Beauty really is all around us, even in the shadows of the slums. As we were leaving, the leader of the group pointed at the children who were singing us a song in farewell. “They have nothing,” she told us, “not money, not health, not clothes.” “But,” she continued with a smile, “they have good soul, and that is enough…that is enough.” My wish for the world is that everyone, at some point in their lives, has the opportunity to experience the splendor found only in the depths of the slums. As Roberts expresses it, “although love might not have been invented in India, it was certainly perfected there.” After my experiences of the past week, I cannot help but agree with him. India, you are unforgettable.

Nallayan Organic Farm's solar powered well--two thumbs up for sustainable energy!

Just makin' some meds at the CMSI Pharmaceutical Factory

Leaving some roots in India--literally

Chennai, Tamil Nadu

Mahabalipuram

Siva's Bull=excellent photo opp

babygoatbabygoatbabygoat

Hindu Architecture!

Mahabalipuram

The shores of Chennai

The Sea Shore Temple

Croc Farm!

Symptoms of a Sensory Overload

2011-09-04T22:46:00.000-07:00

It’s not often that you encounter an entirely new emotion. Most sentiments are familiar, relatable to feelings of the past, yet the emotions I experienced as our plane began its descent into the city of Chennai were something novel and unknown. As the flight attendant announced for us to please fasten our seatbelts I did so both literally and mentally--I knew as soon as the wheels touched the tarmac I was in for quite a ride. My plan for my midnight arrival in India extended to locating my luggage and tracking down the driver designated to take our group of ten students to ICSA, our home for the next month. Though I had my doubts about locating a stranger in a country with a population of 1.2 billion people, after some anxious moments we finally found our man. Boarding a bus christened Emmanuel (whose door failed to shut properly) we set off into the streets of India.

That late night arrival in India was my first experience of the overwhelming emotion now familiar each time I set out into the streets of Chennai. Despite the rather explosive connotations of having your ‘mind being blown’, the symptoms of this sensory overload are actually slow to emerge. First comes a slight burning in my eyes, alerting me to the fact that it’s been awhile since I last remembered to blink. Next I feel a muscular tension, building as I stretch to physical limits trying to twist and turn in opposing directions at the same time. Finally, and at this point I know my senses have really been shocked, I hear a thumping, rhythmical noise reverberating through my ears. The source of this sound is not from outside but rather from within, my surging adrenaline and pounding pulse the only constant in a whirling world. It is in the streets of India that I continuously find myself in this state of sensory overload, attempting to absorb the chaos and culture of the city of Chennai.

I have now been at the Inter-Church Service Association of Chennai, India, or ICSA, for one week. The only routine to my new life includes three designated meal times and a dose of daily malaria medication; every hour in-between these occasions offers only the unexpected. Even my classes at ICSA, delivered either by our guide Eva or a visiting professor, cover a vast assortment of topics. At this point (and remember, it’s only been seven days… ) we have discussed everything from the educational system to politics, poverty to women’s rights, and saree shopping to Buddhism. If the street scenes and city life aren’t enough to overwhelm my mind, surly this influx of information will finish the job. In between class sessions and field trips ICSA also keeps us busy practicing the local language of Tamil. Despite the unfamiliar consonants and lack of English cognates I am provided with plenty of motivation to practice the dialect. Every time I manage to successfully insert a Tamil phrase into my conversations with the locals I am rewarded with an enthusiastic smile and a head wag, the expression of approval characteristic to Indian culture.

While my mind works to absorb this influx of Indian information my senses remain in a state of adjustment to both the cuisine and climate. Food saturated in spices is served at every meal, including breakfast, and I still struggle to achieve the coordination required to successfully accomplish the customary Indian practice of eating without silverware. Despite these challenges, the Indian dishes we are offered daily are delicious compliments to my vegetarian pallet, and our menu items have yet to be served twice.

The sweltering climate of South India is also going to take some getting used to. Early mornings and late evenings have become my favorite times of the day, yet even in these hours the temperature still rests around 85 degrees. The oppressive climate is intensified by a mandatory dress code of long pants, refreshments of hot chai, and humidity that insentiently hovers, blanketing the heat of the city. While I wait to adjust to the climate I have taken up a fondness for time spent under the large celling fan in our room, serving as a source of salvation from above as it spreads its blessed breeze. I share my room at ICSA with two other students. While certainly simple it serves us well, coming stocked with mosquito nets and blankets (not sure why they thought I would want anything to do with the later, but I can appreciate the thought…). Our shower and bathroom share space--the toilet, spigot, and sink all located in the same room. Once we start making a habit of remembering to take the all-too precious toilet paper out before showering this will work out quite splendidly.

While India fills me with overwhelming emotions and unexpected surprises on a daily basis I already adore my new home. Contrary to the surreal pursuit of perfection that plagues so much of the Western world, India presents life that is real and raw. Here nothing is hidden, fake, or pretend. While my classes have presented me with sobering and difficult facts about the country, and it takes no more than a stroll down the street to encounter staggering poverty, the love and acceptance expressed among the Indian population are just as vivid and strong. The hospitality of our hosts at ICSA, the local’s excitement over our arrival, and the timid children who carefully ask our name in accented English are all genuine acts of love and kindness that overflow my emotions. While my symptoms of sensory overload are still the same as that first midnight drive through India, at this point their source has changed. It’s the smiles, waves, and head bobs of the locals we pass on the streets that now cause my eyes to burn as I refuse to blink; it’s the desires to meet new people and discover my own special spots in the city that now keep my muscles in constant motion; and it is the kindness and hospitality demonstrated daily by my hosts that now brings my pulse to pound, no longer with adrenaline, but with a budding, irrevocable affection for India.

The Buddhist Center of Chennai

My room at ICSA, complete with mosquito nets

The streets of Chennai

The school and guest house of ICSA, my home for the next month

One of the local kids--shy but so cute!

At the Still Point, in a Turning World

2011-08-27T15:04:00.000-07:00

Only a few days have passed since I last watched the cookie-cutter houses and miniature golf courses marking the landscape of the United States disappear outside my plane window. Fighting the urge to blink until the scenery became obscured by the upper atmosphere, I did my best to memorize the bird’s-eye-view granted to me of my country well enough to last the next four months. The world took on a more docile demeanor as it rushed away during this moment of take-off. Watching the cheerfully blinking lights and toy-sized cars below, I enjoyed a vantage point that allowed me to pretend that the world, and the distance I was about to journey, was a small, manageable size.

As nice as it is to entertain a literal translation of ‘going across the pond’ to get to Europe, nothing about the real world is measured on a small scale. Despite continuously questioning whether I am actually engaged in tangible life, or simply caught in some figment of my overactive imagination, I currently find myself approximately 4, 400 miles and several time zones away from the familiar in the city of Frankfurt, Germany. While my German vocabulary is limited to a solid total of three words, I have already managed to use the train system to travel to the medieval town of Rothenberg, seen enough churches and museums to loose count, enjoyed an afternoon in beautiful botanical gardens, attended a summer festival along the Main River, and (drum roll here, please) successfully selected the appropriate outlet adaptor to be able to charge my computer enough to write this entry. I consider each of these a significant success, and take their accomplishment as good omens for the travels and unknowns ahead.

Despite being warned that the Germans often sport characters to match their rather harsh-sounding language, I have quickly become enamored with this Christmas-loving country. While my four-day stay limits me to only a brief glimpse of all that Germany has to offer, I am already impressed with the nation’s environmental awareness and amiability. During my train trip through the German countryside I was pleased to encounter fields of solar power panels harvesting sustainable energy interspersed amongst vineyards and gardens, and I have yet to encounter a restroom (called water closets here) that do not have a water conserving flush option. Beyond protecting and sustainably harnessing Earth’s available resources, Germany also boasts an impressive array of inner-city parks as well as a population mobilized mainly by public transportation and bicycles. Every morning I encounter crowds moving toward the Frankfurt train station or biking to work in suits, a briefcase in the front basket.

The timing of my trip also offered the unexpected opportunity to attend an annual summer festival celebrating the expansive variety of museums in the area. For the meager price of four euros I was granted unlimited access into the twenty plus museums located along the Main River in the downtown district. While without this promotion the steep entrance costs to the museums would have surely kept me away, the timing of the festival allowed me to spend an entire day of my stay roaming museums of modern art, archeology, caricatures, architecture, and history. The festival is not only a draw to tourists but the community as well. I was able to pursue Frankfurt’s history and finest artwork alongside locals, absorbing the German language, sampling foreign foods from the stalls set up along the river, and sharing laughs over the cartoons in the caricature museum (although admittedly things became slightly awkward once we encountered those directed at American politics…) With a dedicated environmental awareness, captivating history, amiable population, inspiring architecture, and some truly spectacular scenery, what’s not to love about this country? I sense some German lessons in my future—a return (and extended) stay is definitely in order.

While this trip to Germany is certainly brief, I consider this suitcase-living stage of my journey to be the crucial training-wheels portion of my trip. Determining appropriate dinning destinations and navigating public transportation may be easy to accomplish in Europe, yet my time here still offers significant lessons to absorb before I arrive in the overwhelming atmosphere of India. Overcoming language barriers and attempting to understand foreign culture and customs are ongoing skills, and their development is furthered here in Frankfurt. The backpacker’s hostel I currently call home serves as a source of this global insight. Each day a new group of travelers arrives, bearing with them both large packs and even more extravagant stories. Talking with these travellers, I have encountered others in the same situation as me, enjoying a few nights in Frankfurt before embarking on the next portion of their journey. I am surrounded by a society of those who celebrate ongoing adventure, a culture where strangers are accepted as friends and the language barrier is broken by hand motions and facial expressions. While this backpacking hostel is far from a ritzy establishment, and I have already enjoyed extraordinary sights in Germany, it is here in the living-room-like lobby that I find myself marveling at beauty surrounding me on all sides. The hostel brings together a variety of cultures through a kindred love of travel. With a representative of nearly every continent sharing space, smiles, and similarities with me here in the heart of Frankfurt, I can’t help but wonder if maybe it actually is a small world, after all.

The Dom in downtown Frankfurt

A night at the festival alongside the Main River

A view from the Town Hall of Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Germany

The botanical gardens of Frankfurt

A local market filled with Germany's best!

Museum of Modern Art

The State of Being Whelmed

2011-08-14T09:36:00.000-07:00

Time is a mysterious matter. It is a power of which our mastery is only ever momentary; a substance that always seems to have the upper hand. Despite our efforts to control it, it is ultimately Time that shapes us. We dwell upon segments of our past, jealously consume the seconds in our present, and spend hours illustrating the imagined timelines of our future. Indeed, few things in the society of today could be more defining and consuming than Time itself. People all over the world worship, long for, and pray to it: slow down, speed up, stand still. Ignorant of this attention, Time merely continues ticking along its one-way path, innocently unaware of the reverence that it receives.

While theoretically Time is only comprised of dates and digits, it has recently come to represent significantly more to me than just numbers and calendar squares. As I write this first blog entry, I consider the segments of Time that stretch both behind and before me. There are the nine days left for me to enjoy in the United States before I depart for a semester abroad in India. These are days where I know Time will tick the loudest, resonating in each day that remains to spend with family and friends, sleeping in my own bed, and, yes, even using silverware before I surrender these comforts in the name of adventure and academia in the East. I’ve given up trying to outsmart Time during this portion of my life. At this point I have come to the realization that there will always be goodbyes that I wished I could’ve somehow made last forever, an ambitious to-do-before-leaving list that will never be sufficiently attended to, and a general impossibility to ever be completely calm about exchanging my comfortable familiar for the unknowns abroad. Despite these realizations, however, I know that somehow this segment of time will be sufficient. The turquoise moment of departure awaits.

Besides the stretch of nine days that I am currently immersed in, I also find myself considering the segment of time that spans behind me. It is a curious feeling to be embarking upon an adventure that is guaranteed to change you. Those who have gone before me have all promised enlightenment and alterations, assuring me that the lessons learned in India are ones to last a lifetime. This causes me to contemplate my circumstances and character as they currently stand; a mental before and after picture, if you will. The way we view life and its many hidden complexities is ever-evolving, and the scientist in me wants to attempt to measure just how much of a difference four months can really make. Looking at the Time behind me offers more than just an image of my current world views, however. While Time may have bested me in these nine days remaining before I depart, looking at the moments that mark my past I can’t help but declare myself victor. I have been blessed with so many opportunities, adventure, and encounters with beautiful people in just 20 short years, and am exceedingly fortunate to now be presented with yet another. It takes nothing more than dabbling about in the past to gain an incomprehensible appreciation for how it has all shaped your present. I am forever grateful for all of the opportunity I have been offered, including the adventure at hand. India ahoy!

It is with this same spirit of adventure that I turn to consider the segment of Time that stretches before me. One of my favorite authors, Yann Martel, writes "Why do people move? What makes them uproot and leave everything they've known for a great unknown beyond the horizon? Why climb this Mount Everest of formalities that makes you feel like a beggar? Why enter this jungle of foreignness where everything is new, strange and difficult? The answer is the same the world over: to better life." The excitement of the unknown and the anticipation of adventure are what guide me down the life-enhancing path to India. While Yann also wrote that “a stint in India will beat the restlessness out of any living creature,” I don’t think he knew the extent of my wandering soul. I can’t wait to explore the culture and sights of India, and it is with boundless excitement and ambition that I view the future ahead. I titled the blog Life in the Land Before Time because I consider India to be a place removed from the restrictions of clock faces and computer screens. I have been told that the power of Time is limited there, the reverence it receives noticeably diminished. I can’t wait to embrace a simpler form of living as I focus on only my research projects and immersing myself in a foreign world. Bring it on, Time. These four months are about to be put to very good use.

After looking both backwards and forwards at the Time that surrounds me on all sides I at last come to consider the present. I am happy to report that I am no longer overwhelmed, having formulated plans and packing lists, nor, thankfully, am I underwhelmed, bored with the mundane patterns of the predictable. I am currently blissfully and perfectly whelmed, having accepted the limits of my remaining days and now eagerly awaiting adventure in India. The next time I write in this blog I will no longer be in the country. I will be spending three days in Frankfurt, Germany before heading to the city of Chennai, India, and will be in touch somewhere along the way! While I can’t guarantee consistent blog correspondence, I do promise to keep you sufficiently up to date. The purpose of my blog is to include accounts of my exciting adventures as well as, and perhaps even more importantly, smaller moments that equally deserve mentioning. As the movie Waking Life puts it best, “there is no story. It's just people, gestures, moments, bits of rapture, fleeting emotions. In short, the greatest stories ever told.”