Song for the Winter Sun

It's winter in Delhi

and 60 degrees fahrenheit is chilllly!

I thought it was hilarious, too, until I realized that India can make a cold-weather-wimp of anyone.  I was skyping with my dad in a sweater, scarf, wool blanket, and quilt--and he got on weather.com and reminded me that it was 70 degrees outside.  Great!

Thankfully, this terrible "cold spell" has been especially cozy and happy!  

I holed up in Delhi's isolated Tibetan colony for the last leg of my project with 3 great friends.  It felt almost like normal college life (8 hour days of writing, coffee sustenance, and general insanity included), with the addition of colorful yak's wool blankets for sale everywhere and lots of prayer flags fluttering in the morning breeze off the river.  I am seriously going to miss our peaceful Tibetan existence--wake up every morning, write, drink delicious coffee, eat banana bread, have a huge family-style dinner at night, sing Bollywood songs, watch the fog roll in over the river from the roof, watch Lord of the Rings, and repeat.

  The four of us would spend all day in a local coffee shop, pouring over last minute readings and synthesizing all our research into 40 page papers and preparing for final presentations:   

KATE

MESHA

 VIVIAN

 ME

 

I'm happy to report that finals abroad aren't as different as one might think.  Despite the vibrant culture, the spiritually inspiring community, and general excitement of India, facebook and general shenaniganry still claim victory in the great battle that is end-of-semester procrastination.  Great Mother India hasn't fostered any particular spiritual-centeredness or productivity.  The four of us put hours and hours of work into our projects--and subsequently, spent hours and hours doing de-smart things to balance it out. 

A TRASH PIG

A SKIN CAT

Some gollums

Despite the above, my ISP did get finished and I'm done with class and work and writing until UPS in January, but before then--Taj Mahal, Himalayas, and off to sunny SE Asia!  And MY MOM is here in less than 24 hours!

YIP! YIP! YIP!

Adventures of a Lone Researcher: Part II

India just got a whole lot wilder!

My next leg of research took me deep into the jungles of Karnataka.  After a two hour flight south, a twelve hour bus ride to the coast on which I sleep through my stop, a three hour bus ride back to the stop I missed on the way out, a half hour on the back of a scootie with my two backpacks (one back and one front, pregnant style), and then a day hike through the surrounding farmland (insisted on by my wonderful, enthusiastic homestay father upon my immediate arrival when he heard I enjoyed hiking) THIS is how I feel:

Note the ripped sleeve due to serious jungle bramblage.

A good night and a half of sleep later--I'm up and ready for field research, the coolest part of my project by far.  For this portion, I am living in rural homestays on organic farms--breathing, eating, working with the families, and collecting folk stories and local beliefs about birds.  I do not speak the local dialect, but a guide from a nearby town (named Ganapathy, with a curious likeness to the goofy side of Smeagol) has agreed to spend the entire time with me--translating, getting me from place to place, and laughing at me when I get leeches all over my feet. 

The Sharavathy Valley--the name of this beautiful region--is quiet, green, peaceful and incredibly like the Shire.  Happy, hard-working people go about their farming business every day, with little care in the world beyond the day's weather and the next meal.  I seriously, seriously enjoyed co-existing with them.

The patty fields at my first home 

   Harvesting the betel nuts.

Along with allowing me to pick their brains about birds, the local people were more than happy to fold me into their daily routine on the farm.  I learned how to harvest betel nuts (which grow on what look like coconut trees)--and how to methodically crack open the tough shell.  I spent four hours one day at the shelling block, "perfecting" my technique even though it still takes me five minutes to get one open.  The women--who sit around and gossip all day in the sea breeze and sun--can open three in a minute.

I was also able to spend some time among local people and kids I met on excursions.  Since Smeagol (good old Smeagol) was there to translate, I was able to have super awesome interactions!  I'd ask them about birds and the local lifestyle, and then invite them in turn to ask me about my life.  I mostly got questions about Obama and the climate of my hometown (rainy!), and they were all very impressed when I revealed that I was born in Obama's home neighborhood, Hyde Park.   

 My next homestay was pretty intense--deep in the woods in an isolated valley, it was a three hour scootie ride from the nearest town.  About an hour of this ride was pretty much off-roading up and down hillsides through scrub and rocky fields.  But the trek is definitely worth it, because you arrive and realize that not many people have ever seen this place.  It is pristine and absolutely stunning.

Ten or so families have lived here for hundreds of years, but other than that--only a handful of trekkers and adventure-minded tourists make their way out.  There were very little reminders of the outside world (besides the scooties and all of my stuff)--the houses are made of local mud, thatch, and paint, the food is all home-grown, and banana leaves serve as plates for every meal!  They have electricity for a few hours in the evening, but other than that exist in harmony with the sunlight.

Along with the quest for more bird stories, I spent my days amongst the people and animals--mostly the animals, let's be real.  This little guy was only a few weeks old.  

 There were also goats, dogs, monkeys, a resident tiger, chickens, baby chickens (spent a good 24 hours with them, I think--they liked to hang out on my head), spiders, scorpions, snakes, geckoes.

And leeches.

This place was interesting because I've never felt so simultaneously at home and out of my element before--I love being outdoors, love animals, and generally find infinite happiness amongst the beautiful rhythms of the natural world.  But this place was so far removed from any sort of civilization--and 7,024 miles (according to google maps) from home.  And, I won't lie--after having dengue I'm much more aware of my proximity to the nearest hospital.  This definitely stretched my limits, especially because there were more blood-sucking organisms than just the normal fare of mosquitos. 

One final anecdote: 

The last evening it started monsooning just as evening approached--and Smeagol and I had a thirty minute walk through the woods back home.  The family I had been interviewing offered me an umbrella, but I respectfully but firmly declined in accordance with my inborn Seattle stubbornness and the belief that umbrellas are for wimps.  However, Smeagol--being the attentive and obliging guide that he was--made a serious effort to find me a banana leaf to shield myself with, finally ripping one off a tree.  Having just spent days and days hearing folk stories regarding the importance of respect for nature, I could hardly decline this gracious but unnecessary offer!  I pretended to be delighted, but walked happily through the rain dragging the leaf behind me when Smeagol wasn't looking.  It all turned out okay though, because we used it as our dinner plates.  

Umbrella angst (get me out of this jar).  

Unbeknownst to me in this picture, I have five leeches on my right leg and three on my left.

Yip yip to leeches. 

Then--a ten hour bus ride back to Bangalore on a quest to skype my entire extended Hamel family for Thanksgiving!  Definitely an unconventional one for the books, but still awesome.  Now, back to Delhi to finish up my ISP and, subsequently, my semester here in India!  Only two and a half more weeks until I'm a free bird.  

Love and yips to all. 

Gggg!

Proximity to water makes the soul a little gentler

I have spent the entirety of my life near great bodies of water.  Whether Dyes Inlet, Elliot Bay, the Narrows, Commencement Bay, the Strait of Juan de Fuca, Bellingham Bay, or the Pacific Ocean itself--I've always been able to hop on my bike and head to the salty shores of the Northwest.  

Now, Delhi is a landlocked city in a landlocked state surrounded by more landlocked states and I've spent the past three months separated from water and all that comes along with it.  Now, there does exist a river in Delhi--the holy river Yumma--but sadly, it has been reduced to nothing more than concrete wall-bounded mud-garbage muck and doesn't count.  I also spent a few days in a hotel room over-looking the river Ganges but was knocked out with Dengue fever at the time and couldn't enjoy the river breeze--so that doesn't really count either.  

Too long without the familiar, balancing company of water!  

Thankfully, mother India is not a landlocked nation--and I inadvertently headed towards water for the final part of my field research.  I say inadvertently because, although I now realize how much I missed the presence of sea air, I had gotten so used to the dusty, orange-skied Delhi that I forgot how much I missed the life-giving qualities of H2O.  So when I chose my research destination in rural Karnataka, I had no dreams or aspirations of a great reunion with water.  

But! The moment I stepped off the plane in Bangalore, I sensed the proximity of the sea!  Yip! Yip! Yip! Yip!  It might sound crazy, but my lungs could feel the NON-humidity induced moisture in the air; my skin tingled with the sharpness of O2 familiar with H2O; and my eyes gave thanks for the beauty of a clear blue sky.  I had forgotten how much more strikingly blue the sky is near a great body of water--and how that blue makes the greens of the trees so much more brilliant.  And after a ten hour bus ride to my destination on the coast--Ggggg! did it ever get better.  

Jog Falls--highest waterfall in India

After spending a week here, I've realized that the state of Karnataka is very, very similar to the Pacific Northwest.  To the south is Kerala--a huge tourist destination known for its beautiful beaches and backwaters.  Karnataka is just as beautiful, if a bit rougher around the edges, but without the insane tourist effect.  Also, it has ferries!  

I had to shake myself back to reality a couple of times when I got to this place--it looks and feels so much like the ferry crossing at Pt. Defiance to Vashon Island.  If only this little guy's name was the "Rhododendron"--then I could have practically been home!  

Anyway, nothing like a ferry ride to lift the spirits of a lone traveler.  

It's definitely going to be hard to return to the brown and dusty city of Delhi after re-exposure to the coastal lifestyle.  I will admit, however, that the city of Delhi has come to occupy a special place in my heart (more to come on this later)--so do not despair!  I'll be fine adjusting back to the orange-tinged sunsets, the earthen and dusty smell of the air, and the general romantic loveliness of a city on the brink of a large desert.  

For now, though, hurray for water!  I can't wait to fly into SeaTac and see the beautiful water labyrinth that is Puget Sound spread out for miles below me.

[Dedicated to Rachel Lani and Anna Jane, two solid and unwavering Puget Sound souls.]

India: Where Feet Come to Die

Adventures of a Lone Researcher: Part I

Namaste!  

(Namaste, by the way, translates to "I bow to you" in Sanskrit and Hindi.  Which is cool for sure, but doesn't compare to Klahowya in my opinion.  What could be nicer than the blessing of a dry canoe!)

I'm fresh off a week of traveling, but I'll start first with Diwali!  Diwali is India's major holiday.  The only way I can describe it is Christmas, Fourth of July, and Halloween combined--lights, presents, sweets, family, chaos, and most significantly, FIREWORKS.  And not necessarily pretty, light-up-the-sky fireworks.  From 7am in the morning until 3am at night, the city sounds like a war zone.  Firecrackers of massive proportion are set off everywhere, and sometimes it legitimately sounded, and felt, like bombs were going off.  I was impressed, actually--it beat Fourth of July in sound and sheer capacity of pyrotechnics by tenfold.  

Besides the insanity, it really is a beautiful holiday.  It is the "festival of lights," and lights adorn every home, gas station, mall, street lamp, rickshaw--you name it.  

My host mom let Whitmire (my roommate, Whitney) and I participate in the ritual offering to the gods, and it was pretty dang powerful.  She sang worship songs in Sanskrit while Whitney and I held the puja (the ritual's Hindi name) tray and circled it round the deities.  We prayed to Laxshmi, the goddess of wealth, and to Ganesh, the god of new beginnings.  Afterwards, we lit candles all over our house, porch, and yard.  Then, relatives arrived in droves with fireworks, desserts, and smiles.  

The weekend was spent in Jaipur, a city in the desert state of Rajasthan.  I went with several friends, and despite some close calls with fireworks and men on drugs, we all survived and had a fine time (mostly).  

 My friend Kate, trying her luck at the art of snake-charming. 

 Water fort-palace thing!

 Sassy ladies.

Man in traditional Rajasthani turban.

After Jaipur, I made my way to Bharatpur--home of the Keoladeo National Park, and one of the India's premier bird sanctuaries.  And so began my travels as a solitary researcher!  Despite several fits of loneliness, the inability to sleep due to the ever-compelling plot of Lord of the Rings (I want to see mountains again Gandalf, mountains!), and nasty India smog-weather, I was floored by the peaceful greenery of the park and, of course, by all the birds!  The guest house I stayed at had amazing french toast, too. 

 I won't bore you with bird pictures, but this one's my favorite.

And these guys are cute.

Primary mode of transport in the park.  

Biking and birds, what could be better?

Here I am, in the field doing my bird thing.  

Hope all is well wherever this is being read.  

Caw! Caw! Yip! Yip!

Teddi

A whole lot of October

It's been a month, lots has happened, so here are the last 30 days of my life in a nutshell.

October started off with a bang!  For the first two weeks, my group headed off to central India in search of eroticized temples, Dharma, and the mother of all holy rivers.  

Gwalior fort, India's real-life Edoras.

 One of many loving couples adorning a temple.

 The emerald view from a palace in Orchha.

Unlikely jungle temple dweller (see below).

 The little cow's jungle temple, larger view.

And now the fun really begins!  Partway through excursion, I came down with a fever and didn't get out of bed for several days unless we were driving from one place to the next.  At first I was slightly annoyed at my lack of energy, especially when my friends would come back to the hotel with tales of excitement and wonder--I just wanted to get back out on exciting excursion and explore the holiest city sites in India for myself!  After a couple days, however, I realized that I felt really, really terrible and should probably be in the vicinity of good medical attention.  The next day I was flown back to Delhi and checked into a clinic as a proud new owner of the Dengue disease strain.  Hoo ha!  Platelet count: 30,000. 


I spent several surprisingly relaxing days at the clinic, with my IV pole, some crosswords, and a book for company.  Exhausted by being awake, I slept a lot.  When not sleeping, I read a lot.  Thank the stars I put The River Why in my backpack before I left for excursion, cause it kept my spirits up when I was sick.  Two other important things about the clinic!  The sunlight in my room was gorgeous--somehow the perfect amount of leaves filtered the perfect amount of light so that from the hours of nine to six the walls of my room had a faint golden glimmer that I would sometimes just sit and enjoy instead of napping.  That was pretty cool.  The second thing is cool and also a miracle:  I can now sit down in a chair, have a rubber band tied around my upper arm, have my skin swabbed with alcohol, and have a needle stuck in my vain without fainting.  In fact, I can watch the whole process without so much as a cringe or an errant heartbeat.  Crazy, because a month ago I was  a living, breathing needlephobe precisely of the fainting variety.  I guess sometimes your mind realizes that some things don't matter anymore.


Released from the clinic, and feeling surprisingly lighthearted and happy, I spent a week in recovery mode.  While my group was gone on another excursion, I stayed behind and was able to have my own experience without class or the distraction of my peers.  Although alone, I started to feel what it would be like as a living and breathing being in India instead of merely a student on a study abroad course.  I spent the week taking extra painting classes, practicing Hindi, exploring my city, and having quality time with my host mom.  For all of this, I am so thankful!  Not thankful concerning the dengue of course, that particular infected mosquito can suck it.  But I definitely felt a major change of mindset pre-Dengue and post-Dengue.  My heart feels lighter now (maybe because I have less platelets?) and I have a great fondness for Delhi and for India (two huge, overwhelming, and hard-to-love places) that I didn't really have before. 


Definitely a good month, despite the dengue.    


Anyway, now I'm back into the thick of things--final exams are this week and then I have four weeks to research and write a 30-page paper.  Diwali is on Friday, and Delhi is all in an uproar.  It kind of feels like Christmas, actually, because everything is lit up in twinkling white lights and everyone is baking dessert.  And as you know, Halloween was Sunday and I'd never miss a chance to dress up.  So I'll sign off on that note.

Happy Halloween!

Hope everyone is good--would love to hear from people no matter how short, trivial, or random it is. 


Love love love,
Teddi  

Where I Live and What I Live For

India is sweeeeeet.  Here's an update.

I'm half done with my time in Delhi before I go off for a month to study bird sanctuaries in Southern India in November.  Here's a run through of my life in the city.  My homestay is quiet and peaceful—a massive relief to the chaos of the city.  Instead of the large and loud Indian family I expected, I am living just with one other girl from my program and an older woman, Sonita.  I've come to seriously appreciate the quiet and privacy at home, 'cause as soon as I step out of our sleepy neighborhood the pace of life increases by gazillions.  Our house is in a more spacious and lush area of the city, and the window above my bed looks out over a little park with beautiful trees!     

A normal day for me: Hindi, art history, and anthropology class from 9-1, feast at the program center from 1-2, study (mostly nap or goof around) from 2-3, then free time in the city until dinner at home at 8.  A couple days a week I am taking a painting class in the Madhubani folk style.  My teacher has painted the walls around the stairs over her apartment, and every wall of every room is covered in her artwork.  The porch looks over a huge tree who is home to many hundreds of green parrots.  Spending hours learning the forms of the art and experimenting with the color is the most relaxing thing in the entire world.  Also, she plays a Bollywood radio station almost non-stop and so I am being thoroughly educated in the ways of Indian pop music (awesome).   

Last weekend I got out of Delhi for the first time since flying in on the plane.  It was amazing to get out of the city and experience a slower, cleaner, and more laid back town vibe.  We traveled the 8 hours by train to Amritsar in NW India on the Pakistan border.  Amritsar is the home of the Golden Temple, the number one Sikh pilgrimage site in the world--so people were generally very happy, generous, and in good spirits.  We met lots of people who were genuinely curious about why we were in India, and we spent some good time practicing our Hindi with them.

Then... to Pakistan!  We decided to go to the changing of the guard on the India/Pakistan border, which is famous for its pep rally-like atmosphere and ceremonious guard "dances."  This is a safe and peaceful area of Pakistan, but we still felt like crazy people being so close to that particular country.  We could have literally stuck our arms through the border fence and touched Pakistani soil, but decided that would have been a negative life decision.  Observe! The intricacy of the guard dancing and the event's similarities with a college basketball game:

      

Hindustan and Pakistan pride.

 Amritsar is a beautiful place, and the Golden Temple exudes an intense aura of peacefulness.  Our first night there, we slept on site at the temple.  Even though we got in after midnight, there were people everywhere--praying, sleeping on the floor, bathing in the waters, and watching the stars.  We slept in our own room just off of a large square full of sleeping Sikh families, and I slept very peacefully in the presence of all the pilgrims.  We woke up early in the morning to participate in sunrise prayers, and the whole complex was incredibly beautiful in the early light.  Once again, people were everywhere even at 5am.  

I'm about to leave for about three weeks on excursion throughout central India, so I'll try to stay in touch as much as I can but it will most likely be sparse.  One last thing--(in case you want to know what is going on in India at the moment that is directly impacting my life) if you don't know the Ayodhya decision by the Indian Supreme Court and want to immerse yourself in world news--read up on it.  I am currently not allowed to be out on the streets because the threat of rioting.  (I promise I'm safe!)