finals photo update

Saree day with Sophie! 

And James...

Overcast never felt so good

The first (and only) rain in Pune! 

My fantastic host mom, Mangal

The Marriot: my escape from rickshaw wallas and spice 

Cleaning a well in the Bhukum Village

Puja (prayer) to initiate the clean-up

I'm trying to make friends

Muck that we extracted from the well

Waiting in line at the Exotic Bird and Fish Expo

Collecting plastics from the Mutha River with the General Practitioners Association in Pune 

Near, far, wherever you are…

For the last three weeks I have been interning with an organization named Setu, which aims to create synergy between the community structures of Pune. Its objective is to encourage networking that will empower members and increase the people’s participation in government.

Yesterday we went out for a field visit to a small village beneath the bridge. The original village of 3,000 people has been divided and dissolved because of the effects of urbanization and river pollution. After meeting the Sangamwadi villagers and speaking with their leader, we embarked upon a small boat that took us down the adjacent Mula River. Looking around at the blatant pollution of the Mula, I asked our guide about the health effects of the river. Sitting on the back of the boat manning the engine, he lifted his khaki pant leg to reveal a dark patch of skin that covered the front of his lower leg. The parents, he said, have trouble sleeping at night because of the irritation caused by the skin rashes that result from contact with the river.

Mula River

Charming children

Speaking with the village leader

Sewage plant along the river

It's not supposed to be that color...

Waste in the river

The interaction on the field was inspiring and I’m so grateful to have had the opportunity to speak with the villagers. Apparently, though, I still have a lot of 21 year old in me: I’m on a boat was running through my mind for an inappropriate length of time. Thanks, Beth.

Later that night, much later, my friends and I went to see the Titanic in 3D at E-Square. We had bought the tickets online for the 6:30pm showing. Proshanti had to buy her ticket there, so we waited in “line” at the counter. The half-moon of people crowded around the ticket counter, elbowing and pushing their money under the plastic safeguard, was probably all a part of the show; isn’t that what it was like on the Titanic? We tried communicating what we wanted for a while, and somehow ended up with a ticket and two yellow stubs redeemable for the 3D glasses, which are apparently optional. Does anyone actually forego the3D to save the 30 rupee charge? So many questions. Oh yeah, the movie time, screen, and seats have changed. See you at 7! It’s a fast paced world out there, because by the time I got through security the movie time was set for 7:30.

Jack and the blue diamond still fell into the ocean in the end. I was holding out hope there for a while. I’m still not quite sure what happened in the middle, though, because Kate’s scandal was censored. It has been 15 years (15 years!) since the Titanic has come out. The last time I saw this movie, it was on a two-tape special edition VHS that I had gotten for Christmas. And it seems, to me, that Jack and Rose are no longer the most important part of the story. Somewhere between Florida and India, I think I grew up a little. It was reminiscent of realizing that Holden Caulfield isn’t really a hero.

After finishing the Sea of Poppies, I’m going to start on the three Titanic books that I downloaded on my Kindle just now. I’m always game for a new obsession.

P.S.

I have a surprise for all of you readers at the end of my trip (in three short weeks), so keep reading!

Cold Sparkle

I am in the process of mentally preparing for my re-entry into the U.S. Part of this is knowing what to say when someone asks "How was India?" 

How was India. That question is more loaded than the two-wheeler carrying an entire family down Paud Road . I don't even know what to do with that, so my first instinct is to pass it off like a Hot Potato (does anyone remember that game?) and talk about the weather. I have a short version, a long version, a truthful version, and a hesitant you-might-visit-one-day-and-I-don't-want-to-scare-you-so-I'll-fluff it-up-a-little version. There is also the Taj version, which is obviously the most magical and fluffy of all; it's probably more nauseating than the spicy balls of fire that I've been eating for the last three months. 

I'm sure that you will hear something like: it was challenging, but fulfilling.

Here's a small insight into what some of those challenges, and fulfillments, are.

Since internships have started, there are very few people left in the center by lunch time. I use this mid-day opportunity to sneak away to Café Coffee Day, every day, to buy a Cold Sparkle. My body has been amazingly adaptive to this nutritional substitute for real food.  

Yesterday my classes were frustrating and the heat was too much, so I left a little early for my daily dose of blended coconut coffee drink.  

Twenty minutes later, I was able to cross the street with all of my toes intact.

Okay. Cold Sparkle makes everything better. Wait for Cold Sparkle.

I walked up the familiar flight of stairs and opened the glass door to Café Coffee Day.

I love being a regular; even it is for all the wrong reasons.

One Cold Sparkle. Please.

Twenty five minutes and zero additional costumers later, I’m told that there is no Cold Sparkle.

OKAY.

So, I’ll have a Tropical Iceberg (there is nothing tropical about my life right now, but I can feel the iceberg approaching pretty quickly). It’s twenty rupees cheaper, so can I have twenty rupees back?

No.

Oh. Kay.

Ten minutes. One Cold Sparkle. The Titanic is still afloat. I. Will. Make it!

 Walking down the steps, feeling victorious over this poor unsuspecting coffee beverage, the bag breaks.

And twenty-five minutes later, I crossed the street. 

But at the end of the very hot, very congested day, Starbucks doesn't ever have a Cold Sparkle. And Pune (sometimes) does. 

Good brakes. Good horn. Good luck.

Finding a perfect copy of The Jungle Book below the Turtle Café was the ideal ending to our week long trek through Northern India. With the taste of lemon cake and coffee still lingering, I also came across this beautiful version of Franny and Zooey. So beautiful that I just didn’t feel right about taking it out of Delhi. One day, somebody in India will read that very same copy that I admired.

I handed the cashier rupees in exchange for my new book, pushed into a fittingly simple paper bag. Catherine, Beth, Alyssa and I walked outside to bargain for a rickshaw ride to the New Delhi National Gallery of Modern Art.  Our rushed viewing of the four floors, twenty minutes until closing time, was well worth the security check. The levels were arranged by date, with the very top holding a collection of the most modern pieces. The gallery was open and clean, showcasing the most creative and handsome of Indian paintings. On our way back to the airport, I loitered over the stories of the last six days, hanging on to the feeling of being a twenty-one-year-old exploring India with good friends.  

Like the end of our trip, we began the first flight with a cup of coffee and a brownie. Our flight, despite the early hour drive to Mumbai from Pune, was lovely and easy. Two hours after stepping onto the small but accommodating plane, we landed in Udaipur, Rajistan. It is a rarity to be able to use the word quaint to describe India. For its general lack of traffic and congestion, Udaipur was lazy and enjoyable, like the aftertaste of the brownie; the effort of travelling was in the near past, leaving us two days of complete recreation: park, pool, paintings, palaces, puppet shows, temples, and rooftop eateries (all those p-words are a complete coincidence).

Mid-air luxuries

Our hotel in Udaipur

Udaipur. I really loved the paintings throughout the city.

My sustenance in India

Dear Mom and Dad...

My tea cup brings all the turtles to the yard

Fresh lime soda on the rooftop

Overnight sleeper train

On the second morning we walked into town and trekked up six flights of stairs to attend a morning yoga session on the rooftop. I was basically watching all of the other dreadlocked participants the whole time since my head was perpetually stuck somewhere halfway between my shoulders and my knees. “Down, down” the instructor said as he pushed my back towards the floor. “Oh no, broken.” Yes, Mr. Yoga Man. Melissa broken.

Which brings me to my running list of things that I have broken since coming to India (a majority of them on this trip):

Two pairs of shoes. Luckily, we had a Girl Scout in the group. Beth used a piece of gum for the first unfortunate snapping of the sandal, and found a replacement flip-flop lying in a trash pile for the second. Yes, I used a flip-flop from a trash pile to walk back to the hotel. As Catherine reminded me: “It’s either wear it or go to the hospital from cutting your foot on the road rubble.” I hate it when she’s right.

One skirt. Don’t let anyone tell you that you will not gain weight in India. See above brownie, lemon cake.

One water bottle.  I refuse to buy another one, so basically, I’m really thirsty.

One treadmill. Don’t even ask.

We spent the following two days exploring Jaipur, the Pink City, and rebelling against the expectations of our driver, Kumar. We may be a little stubborn when it comes to deciding where to eat and shop. Alyssa called us the Bad Tourists. It’s not that far off. We got reprimanded by a few tour guides, too. I can’t help it if Mr. Bossypants’ breakdowns made us giggle.

rooftop of a palace converted into a hotel

that goat stole my t-shirt

My camel was such a lover boy

Agra Fort

Camel herd on the side of the road

Taj entrance

Kumar had a few very proud moments during our four hour car ride to Agra. Waking us from our heat-induced coma, the whack! on the front window reverberated from Beth’s hand. Kumar looked at the dead mosquito and told Beth that she was a murderer. In the un-amused manner that has become unique to her, she replied “well, they keep biting me.” Pause. “They LOVE you! Keeheeheehee.” Kumar loves to laugh. Longer pause. “You killed your LOVER! Keeehheeeheeeehee.” And we love Kumar. A short while later he followed up with “you only need three things to drive in India: good brakes, good horn, good luck.”   

Arriving in Agra, we dropped off our things at what was to be our last hotel stay in northern India. We met our tour guide downstairs and slumped into the car for the finale sight-see. Human effort and ability will never cease to overwhelm and amaze me. The Taj Mahal was one of the most awe-inspiring things that I have ever experienced. One day, I hope to be able to bring all of my loved ones to stand in front of the brilliant white marble mosque. 

Taj Mahal

All of the work on the Taj is hand-carved inlaid with semiprecious stones

View from the back of the Taj

The Taj has one additional mosque on each side

The Lotus Temple, New Delhi

Presidents house, New Delhi