Henna

The day before the wedding, my henna got done. This was an extremely long process. Ganga also had some done on his hands. Many of the women of the family had henna as well. They used a thick green paste on their feet that created the same effect as well. Here’s tons of pics during the whole process.

Limited Time Only Exhibit!

Family started pouring in from all over the place over the next day or so (this was about April 9th). Mostly, I started to feel like a zoo exhibit. Muchlipatnam is a really homogenous place and the presence of a foreigner and an American is pretty rare (as evidence, the news story about the wedding). Also, while most of the younger generation has taken English for years in school, they don’t often practice it with a native speaker, so I ended up talking to a lot of kids and being stared at by a lot of adults. Here's some family shots.

news story about the wedding

Here's a local news story about the wedding.

I am ill

April 6-9th

Around this time, I started to get really sick and continued to stay that way for three or four days. I suppose the 16 hour overnight flights, the questionable hygienic practices and the climate change finally did me in. For the next three or four days I did little but sleep. At some point, we removed to Muchilipatnam, the town of about 250,000 where Ganga’s parent’s live. Ganga was super awesome during this period. He ran all over the place getting me juice and cold medicine and whatever else. Periodically, he’d call the doctor cousins and they would recommend a new medicine – I say recommend and not prescribe because he would talk to one of them on the phone and wander into the bedroom where I was sleeping with medications ranging from antibiotics to cough syrup with codeine in it.
One of Ganga’s aunts also performed a nightly exorcism on me. I don’t know if it really was an exorcism, but that’s the closest thing I can compare it to. I guess she thought I had gotten sick because of something evil. Anyway, she would pull me into the kitchen, hold rock salt in her right hand and circle the top half of my body, first clockwise three times, then counter clockwise.
For my part, I just slept and got lots of fluids. Eventually, some combination of exorcism, sleep and medicine did the trick and I got better.

Vijayawada

We eventually arrived in Vijayawada, where I suddenly had assignments. We went to a couple of department stores where I had to pick out fabric for clothes. Then, we had to get all dressed up to get a photo taken. This giant photo hung outside the function hall of the Indian wedding ceremony – enlarged and stuck on one of those vinyl posters that typically say things like: “one day sale” and “going out of business.” It’s a truly awful picture, but sadly I don’t have a digital copy of it. I’ll try to find one as quick as I can.

We were staying with Ganga’s cousin, who is a doctor, his wife, also a doctor, and their six year old daughter who can write, read, and speak in Telugu, Hindi, and English. Also, she can multiply up to ten. Of course, since she’s six, some of her learning decorated the walls in crayon. It was cute to see her scribbled b’s and d’s all over the living room and bedroom but I’m sure her parents weren’t too happy about it.Here's one of her in her school uniform.

There’s also a couple of pictures I took while hanging out on the roof. The neighbors had a palm leaf roof and were re-palming (can that be the right word?). I wanted to get in really close, but I thought it would be tacky. I guess this only needs to be done every three years and if it’s done correctly, it will keep the rain and wind out.

I am mostly naked on a train

On the evening of the 3rd, we left Hyderabad via train. Our trip to the train station proved that although I was wearing a borrowed churidar – or Punjabi outfit as some of you may know it – it wasn’t enough camouflage; bhendi, clothing and hair style can’t make up for pasty pale skin apparently. Stares followed me through the train station and onto the platform.
We were in a sleeper car. The trains are set up so that there are eight cots in each section, three on either wall of the section and two across the aisle. I’ll try to get better pictures so the set up is a little more clear. There’s really no privacy; the entire car is open and the aisle stays a walkway all night long. The car we were in was not air conditioned and we had other people in our area, so we quickly turned out our section of lights and tried to sleep. It was alarmingly hot and fairly humid so sleep was difficult. I was also in strange clothing so I tossed and turned as much as possible on my little cot. For awhile, I switched directions and stuck my feet next to the open window of the train car, thinking that if I could at least cool them off, I’d be fine. Random visions of coming back to America minus a foot made me switch back though. Finally, around three in the morning, I realized I had to go to the bathroom. Ganga had warned me that the bathrooms on a train weren’t very nice, so I had tried to hold off as long as I could. Unfortunately, we wouldn’t be arriving in Vijayawada for several more hours and there was no way I was going to make it.
Apparently, there had recently been some issues with what the State Department calls “Eve teasing” and the rest of us call “sexual harassment,” so Ganga walked me to the bathroom. He pointed at a door, looking much like a door for an airplane bathroom and said, “Sorry.”
In hindsight, I should have just held it.
The bathroom was all stainless steel, down to the floor. There was no toilet, only a hole in the bottom of the train. Yes, you read that right. The whole of Indian rail lines are a trail of human excrement. Rail workers there should make millions. There were also some raised foot marks, as in “put your feet here so you can squat over the hole, moron.” The floor was wet. This is the whole problem with the “washing” versus “wiping” thing. I never know why the floor is wet.
I deliberated a few moments and realized the knee-length shirt I was wearing was going to have to come off. Imagine wind whipping from the hole in the bottom of the train while… well, you know. Luckily, there was a handy hook on the back of the door that seemed clean. Further deliberation and calculation showed that if I dropped my pants, they were going to get wet, so they had to come off. I managed this feat without once stepping on the ground or getting any items of body or clothing wet. I think I should join some sort of Olympic team.
I mentioned earlier that I had gone out and bought new undies and bras – well, there first moments of exposure were in an empty train bathroom. So, there I was, purple and white polka-dotted matching undies set squatting over a hole in a train, trying to make sure the draft of wind from the hole in the ground wasn’t powerful enough to blow urine back on me.
When I got out of the bathroom, Ganga looked at me and said, “sorry” again.
“Yeah, me too” I answered.

Welcome to Hyderabad

April 3rd

We arrived at the Hyderabad Airport around 5:00 in the morning. Our flight out of Mumbai had been delayed by a few hours. Ganga told me this was pretty common within India – flights, trains, etc. running behind schedule. Immigration/customs was really quick and uneventful and my passport got its first stamp.

After this section, there was a large help desk where many women in full burkas were gathered. Apparently, areas of Hyderabad were under curfew because of some recent rioting between Muslims and Hindus in the area. We were able to bypass the helpdesk and were met by his parents, an aunt and his little brother – who’s not that little, he’s 28.

We took a taxi to our hotel. This was assuredly one of the most horrifying experiences of my life. In India, driving is like in England, on the left side of the road with the driver on the right side of the car. Of course “sides” are sort of nominal here. Most people just seemed to center their car on a dotted line and moved around, through, and between traffic in a horribly haphazard manner while honking their horn a lot. Mostly, I just closed my eyes and held on. I started to say a Hail Mary at one point, but then I realized I’m not Catholic and I have no idea what comes after “full of grace” anyway.

Our hotel was frankly creepy. The walls were dirty, the corridor lighting was low and the sheets seemed a little suspect. This was also my first experience with Indian bathrooms. I wish now I had taken a picture. There was a toilet and a sink (which I later discovered I should have been grateful for) and two taps coming out of the wall, a large gallon bucket and smaller pail and a drain on the floor. When Ganga asked if I wanted a shower, I said “where?” He answered in the bathroom and I said, “how?” Thankfully, he demonstrated the process of splashing water over ones’ self or I would have been dirty for a month looking for a “shower” and never finding one.

Around seven in the morning there was an hour long power outage. The outages vary by community – in Ganga’s hometown of Muchliputnem, the power is out for two hours every morning - I guess it must vary based on the usage and needs of the community. One of the most common questions people asked us was about power outages in the U.S. I can’t even imagine how much Americans would freak out over not having power for any amount of time during the day. We are awfully spoilt.

While in Hyderabad, we had some famous Hyderabadi biryani for lunch and dinner at a tiffin (which means breakfast or a light meal) restaurant. I had dosa which is like a thin pancake or probably more like a crepe. It’s eaten with chutney – in my experience usually coconut or peanut but I've also seen people eat it with tomato or spicy pickles as well.

Next post: The train ride from hell.

A Fool's Journey

We left our apartment around 9:30 on Thursday, April 1st for our 12:20 flight to JFK. I officially hate that airport. We had to ask three people how to get to a specific terminal, then, we had to leave security to get to the correct terminal which meant that our dining options were pretty scanty. What was even scarcer, however, was seating. We ended up perched on the edge of a railing by an elevator eating Chinese food made by Indian women. We had a 5 hour layover. Part of this was intentional. We were changing airlines at JFK and Ganga had previously had issues getting his luggage transferred over.
As a side note, I have tons of issues with security at airports. For instance, I am sure that flip-flops do not pose a threat to national security. I do not believe that forcing people to walk barefoot over extensively traveled paths is conducive to safety or to good hygiene. I would love to see someone try to hide a box cutter or an explosive device in a flip-flop. TSA would be able to spot these would-be terrorists because their FEET WOULD BE BLEEDING. I have also inadvertently and sometimes advertently taken items through security without them being noticed: lighters, matches, water bottles that were full, a metal nail file and a handcuff key. I genuinely believe that the reason another September 11th won’t happen again has nothing to do with increased security, rather, Americans would kick someone’s ass before they let them highjack a plane. A perfect example is the guy who tried to light his shoe on fire in Atlanta – who lights their own shoe on fire as a weapon?—the other passengers stopped him from doing anything. Putting aside my inherent bias against TSA’s effectiveness, the agents at JFK are particularly truculent and very uncommitted. I was getting on a plane with enough fuel to fly to Mumbai without stopping, with nine seats across each row. These agents were not that interested. So, again, TSA, kind of useless.
One we got through security though…
The flight attendants on Air India have the cutest outfits. They have an option of a long red and white tunic with navy pants or a red, white, and navy sari. On our flight to Mumbai, there was a judicious mix of both outfits. By the time we left Mumbai for Hyderabad, almost all the (all female) flight attendants were in saris.
On the plane, I was struck by the fact that the seats were gold and red, what one typically thinks of as Indian.
The food and drink on international flights are plentiful. Right after we took off, we were served chicken curry and bendhi masala (okra curry). Ganga had two whiskey and sodas and fell asleep. Somewhere over the Atlantic, breakfast was a Danish and bowl of fruit. Later, they served chicken korma (a creamier curry usually with cashews and raisins) and dal. The flight was one of those great ones with the individual TV sets for each occupant and they had great shows like Big Bang Theory available. Our flight left New York at 9:30 p.m. on April Fool's Day. We arrived in Mumbai around 10:00 p.m. on the 2nd.

electronics suck

Retrospective of April 1 – written April 4

My husband is a software programmer/engineer. I teach introduction to basic computer applications at the collegiate level. We should not have issues with basic electronics in our home. However, there we were, the night before our trip to India and the only things we had been dealing with was a misbehaving blackberry and a new MP3 player. Ganga’s blackberry took 5 calls to T-Mobile, 3 trips to the store, and finally the purchase of a track phone (does that sound like a Christmas carol to anyone else?). I, on the other hand, was attempting to load the final three Harry Potter audio books on to my birthday present. I figured I would need the comfort of a book (or three) that I loved. I had loaded Goblet of Fire on, but Order was presenting issues.
The result is that we spent hours dealing with electronics and barely remembered to clean out the fridge (Oh, God, I hope I started the dishwasher) and neither one of us got any sleep. Off to India!