Matrimonial advertisements: meet the Mango Queen

bye bye Bangalore

Tonight is my last night in Bangalore. It's kind of crazy to think back to first landing and how long it took me to adjust to things. Now, I'm elbowing people out of the way and chugging chai as fast as any auntie ji. I'm leaving this congested city with a layer of baby fat and a substantial new appreciation for India.

I will be the first to admit that I was kind of miserable to begin with. It was lonely and often jarring to be face to face with the ugly aspects of my own culture that I had drowned in apple pies and American flags. It was isolating, at first, being foreign to Indians and foreign to fellow Americans. But, because of the struggle, I was able to negotiate my own terrain and claim a chunk of this culture as uniquely my own. I am definitely more excited to apply to medical school than I had been and I'm looking forward to a year of serious anthropology ahead. Why, yes, I am a nerd.

I may never get a chance to come to South India again, but I'm glad I learned about this part of the country. I even got to see a bunch of temples. My sister came to India on Saturday to go around the country together and see some sights. She met me in Bangalore and we're going to New Delhi on the 10th. From Delhi, we'll go to Haridwar, Rishikesh, and my birthplace, Dehradun. From there, I'll get back to Delhi for some maternal family time and she'll go to Lucknow for some paternal family time. We've been obnoxious and giggling the whole time and getting into fights, the usual sibling stuff. Ain't nothin' like a sister special.

Yesterday, in fact, we went to the holiest of holy pilgrimage sites, Tirupati's Sri Venkaswara Temple. We took a tour bus package, that allowed us to move as a group to the hostel to take a shower and get some breakfast, and it included tickets to see both Balaji and the Goddess temple. We were shepharded by our faithful "Marcy." We called him this because he would address the whole group as "sir" and sometimes bhiya (brother). An example of Marcy's speeches commands would be something like:

Sir! you will take off your shoes on the bus before you get down, sir. You will not bring your cameras or mobiles, bhiya. get off the bus now!

Needless to say, we didn't know why he was yelling at us the whole time or would ask us to get off quickly before the bus came to a stop. Regardless of this dude's customer service skills, it was a beautiful darshan (quick prayer & peek at God, before you're forcibly shoved by a security guard) after over an hour's crowded wait. They say whatever you wish for/pray for at this temple will come to you, this temple has that kind of power. People will even shave their heads to show their devotion. Needless to say I didn't shave my head. I prayed hard and felt a little Mexican jumping bean in my heart. Who knows, maybe it's just like the Secret and if you think it, it'll happen. So far, this has worked with wondering why I hadn't seen any peacocks, talking about what a shame it was the Shins broke up, and why there are no burritos in India (saw a peacock that day, the Shins are on tour with a new album, and a Taco Bell just opened at the mall).

Maybe I will get married to the Mango King? I have a video I made for my shaadi.com personals page. 

a little hospital work

One of the most difficult parts of my field work has been "cold calls." This basically means that I will call up a doctor I've never met or seen before on his or her personal cell phone and ask if they have time for an interview or if I can shadow them for the day. This is daunting in the US because of how notoriously busy doctors are and extremely frustrating and difficult in India because nobody understands my accent on the phone. It's extremely painful and annoying for both parties, but I have been quite patient and the rewards have been well worth it.

It's funny, actually, how interested some of the doctors are to meet this American-accented person with an Indian name. I think some people actually feel flattered that I've asked them to participate. Some students I've interview have even asked me if I'm sure I don't want to talk to someone who's really in charge. I don't think they've heard that graduate students (me) are the worst.

Well, when they realized that I wanted to sit down for an interview, of course everyone was quite gracious and accepts, but they would be anxious about how long it would take. Most would say something like "it'll only take 15 minutes, right?" and I would reassure them--I wasn't lying. If I could make an interview happen in 15, I would, but it was mostly up to how they interacted with me. I can say that most interviews ended up averaging half an hour, but not because of me. Once they realized that they could talk about their opinions on culture and medicine--the two things they participate in the most often--they, for the most part, loved talking about it. It was like I made up for their kids that didn't want to hear about the trouble with Indian culture or why medicine should change for whatever reason and why there's no respect these days or too much respect. Many recruited me as an ally and would comment that this was a very good study I was doing, that I would clear the air about certain things. It's difficult to be put in a position that make people feel like they have an advocate, when really all you have been doing is listening and asking very simple questions. True, I do actually feel friendly with a handful of my 'informants' because we really did end up having a few great conversations. But, for the most part, the conversation was unilateral. I will say that I have a talent for saying very little, but getting strangers to trust me and warm up to me. (like the time I got a Sudanese taxi-driver to open up about having a daughter in the US and foregoing their traditional practice of FGC. I literally asked him a question and a half and we got there. I think it's the nose ring that's reassuring.)

From the beginning with frustrating phone calls, to now having a set of doctors ands students who greet me warmly in the hallway and making sure I've "taken my lunch," it's amazing how much I'm going to miss the hospital, but it's good for things to end and wrap up nicely, I think. Endings make the whole experience that much more enjoyable.

"kick my hand, please"

Salome & Claire at Hanuman Temple, Anegundi

Early on, when I began Nancy Notebooking around the hospital, I saw three white girls in the basement of the main cardiac hospital (the "Health City" is composed of four hospitals: Narayana Hrudayalaya [cardiac], the Multispecialty Hospital & Mazumdar-Shaw Cancer Center, Narayana Nethrayala [eye hospital], and SPARSH [craniomaxillofacial surgery]). Assuming these ladies were westerners, I approached them to make friends. Found out quickly they were French, not Americans. We exchanged numbers and bumped into each other quite a few times after that. They are medical students, so I was able to exchange a lot of western/eastern perspectives that put my observations into a larger scope, which I think was missing from my preliminary research.

back of the "tuk tuk"

Why would I be interested in making non-Indian friends after flying halfway around the world? Simply [schimpiddy, as they say in the South], it's easier to explore with fellow travelers. When you're in the same mindset of being in a new, foreign place for a short amount of time, you have similar goals and expectations, no matter the language barrier. It's quite assuring to be around people who make you feel less out of place. We got to laugh about Indian accents & phrases, American accents, strange looks we get, over-sweetened tea, lack of toilet paper, and other little things. Traveling alone is eye-opening, but for three months, is really isolating. I wasn't really able to leave the apartment to explore until I met them, actually. To be fair, you can't really go out to Bangalore's restaurants and "pubs" alone. Later on, we found an Irish-Indian friend and an Indo-Malaysian friend who both study medicine in Dublin, who me and the other two Americans went to Mysore with one weekend.

The American boys & Camille

 The girls left on Monday and we had a small get-together at a doctor-friend's house. I went over after arriving back in Bangalore from Bombay and spent a last evening of sharing too much food, trying strange Indian white wine, and learning "that's what she said jokes." Tibetan prayer bowls make excellent fodder for bad The Office jokes, we found out. I wish there were more nights like this in Bengaluru, but it seems these sorts of gatherings are best for good-byes.

I'm so glad to have met this fine, bright gaggle of medical students to share my experience here (this includes the American and Dublin students!). They really saved me from what seemed to be a lonely task by laughing about silly things at Cafe Coffee Day and giggling during doctor-led meditation sessions (more on that later). Traveling with others really helps you learn about yourself as much as the terrain you're exploring, I think. You can't really just bust into a new place and think you've got it figured out yourself--because you probably don't. I'm not saying Malinowski stuck on the Trobriand Islands during WWI alone was a bad thing, but I'm sure he wished he had some sassy friends to help him understand the fine contours of the culture. So thanks, mademoiselles! I hope our paths cross again someday when we're all fancy doctors!

Camille, Salome, Claire, me at Hanuman Temple, Anegundi

someone please build a giant umbrella over Bombay

I've been working out a lot. With the little walking I do in Bangalore, I like to run on the treadmill in 75% humidity and no AC in the gym. It makes me feel alive. (actually, a funny side story about my gym usage at the apartment. a few young pre-teen type girls started coming to the gym at my usual work out time and would just mess around on the equipment, seemingly for the sole purpose of creating more body heat in the tiny gym. one 13-year-old girl sheepishly came up to me and asked me to teach her some ab work outs. needless to say, she failed to notice my pot belly).

Anyway, I haven't really been working out to lose weight. No, it's a nice benefit, but the real reason was preventative: I was going to Bombay to visit my chef uncle who I knew would feed me. And oh god, did he. Pizza, Chinese food, aloo puri, parathas, etc. It was awesome. I had Chinese food at the Taj hotel & met a variety of chefs (including one who got shot in 26/11 attacks).

Mumbai is a beautiful city--I really loved it there, despite the monsoon. Anything in Bangalore I've referred to as monsoon is misguided. Holy crap the monsoon weather in Bombay was INSANE. Soaked from head to toe the whole time I was there. I almost regretted not doing a study in Bombay, just to live there for a few months. photos on flickr.

PS I ate street food... at the beach... during monsoon... I'm still alive! (AND IT WAS DELICIOUS)

being human*

I took a detour this week and visited the Medico-social work department. I was interested in what kinds of things they dealt with in order to get a better idea of what the hospital was like. They gave me a list of services and then mentioned what they do with dead bodies. At no point since I had set foot in the hospital had I thought about loss of life or death. There is really no indication in the hospital that people die, even when I've walked around the ICUs and wards. It kind of struck me how much I had failed to see this obvious aspect of the hospital, as I had spent so much time focused on getting appointments with doctors and observing their work as much as possible. I had nearly removed the patient from the equation, reducing them to an abstract concept I only get to ask the doctors about.

I also had the opportunity to observe a few surgeries. And by a few, I mean around seven. The call volume is so high at this hospital, I couldn't keep up with the doctor I had been following, but I managed to catch the beginning, middle, and end stages of various surgeries within a four or five hour span. At no point did I feel discomfort watching people go through these invasive procedures or feel squeamish about the blood, etc. I remember even thinking how desensitized I was to the human aspect of the surgery. I really didn't know the people or interact with them, so that might be a factor.  It's strange, but I think it might be necessary to preform surgeries well. Again, seeing open abdomens, blood, unconscious bodies (some people were only anesthetized from the waist-down, so some semi-conscious bodies), death never really crossed my mind. Perhaps I have so much trust in these doctors myself, that I failed to realize this important factor in medicine and medical work. The people here are so good-natured and dedicated, it seems difficult for me to comprehend that things can go wrong. I may get the opportunity to follow a resident while she's on call next week, so maybe the late night shift will bring to light some new perspectives.

*"being human" shirts are really popular in India. I suspect it's because the hippie tourists from the west think it's really deep.

Now for some field work!

Bangalore traffic.

Hello world! I've officially started busy-bodying in the hospital & it's been a lot of fun. The doctors are amazingly welcoming and have been quite interested in my study. What I'm basically doing is following around whoever can tolerate me (and willing to stand still long enough to read the consent form) and also conducting interviews with whoever has a moment to speak. In a previous post, I mentioned that a doctor had asked me to come in between some ambiguous hour and I had to wait a lot. In India this hospital, I have discovered, there is no system of appointments. The patient volume is too large and a much more informal system of getting in line to speak with a doctor and jumping in when possible seems to work organically without much chaos and unfair line jumping. It works a lot like traffic in Bangalore or any sense of line-standing in general. It's taken getting used to, but I've gotten the hang of it.

Since starting, I have met a few foreigners who are doing internships/electives/studies at the hospital as well. There are three French girls, two American boys, and two girls from Dublin. It's kind of nice to not speak Hin-glish and to speak with a little less reservation. Also, a natural topic of conversation is what differences exist in Indian & Western biomedical healthcare.. soo that's kinda nice.

hi! (Hampi, Karanataka July 9, 2011)

It's surprising how tiring interviewing people can be. Especially since my tape-recorder broke (what kind of horrible anthropologist am I) so I have to write like the wind & listen with five ears. I took a break last weekend and went to Hampi and I'm going to Mysore this weekend. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to visit fellow Cotlow-er Claire & compare notes.   Hampi was awesome. It's a holy city with a lot of temple ruins and nice people. I went with the American boys and the French girls and none of us really wanted to leave.

guess which ones are Peter & Jon

the bad feeling so bad makes the good so good

Disclaimer: feel free to skip the whining & go straight to the pros & cons of India list 

I have been thinking about this blog post for a while, now. I have never particularly liked India, but I don't dislike it. Most people don't understand why I don't looove India, as it is a privilege to travel here and  it is my homeland. With the buffer of family, it is difficult to really get out and explore. So, my association with  India is restriction, although I believe that I allow this because I am somewhat not entirely comfortable here. People see me and I act like an American--that's what I am. There's really no other way to say it. While I have a cultural understanding of India that Americans don't have, I also lack a great deal of knowledge about how things happen in India (see above: buffer) so I can't claim to be as Indian as much as I can claim being American--and I don't feel like there's anything wrong with that. It's taken me a long time to admit that to myself.

However, despite my own conviction of my personal belonging/heritage/identity, in India, I have no sense of belonging anywhere. No white person thinks I'm American here, because they fail to see me feeling as out of place as they are. Indians can see that I'm doing some things wrong, but aren't ready to make the leap to calling me American. I don't know the customs, I only nod my head up and down and shake it right to left, I'm bad at eating with my hands, I use toilet paper, and I like to say 'please' and 'thank you.'  I believe that because I speak English with an American accent, that people think I'm just being uppity or think I'm dumb and laugh at me when they think I'm not looking or don't understand what is going on (this has happened multiple times). I don't have a place in India and get treated as such.  My missteps are much more difficult to forgive because the assumption is that I should know what I'm doing. Foreigners get treated very well in India; when outsiders come here, they rave about how wonderful everything else. True, outsiders tend to exoticize everything about the country and kind of miss out on some subtle things, but they still come out with a positive view of India. It still sucks being not Indian and not being a foreigner here.

So, the best and worst parts of India. I'll start with the worst, because it's nice to end on a positive note.

taken from "how to use an Indian toilet"

  

CONS: 

• no toilet paper & no soap (this is gross when you realize why there is no TP)
• most parts of the country smell like a toilet
• people stare openly
• people try to feed you until you die/are overly concerned with what & when you eat
• no peanut butter
• men are openly creepy
• there is no such thing as phone etiquette--that is not a cultural value statement
• Indians will always challenge what you say, even when it's inappropriate, just to prove their skepticism outwardly
• generally, the Indians are quite racist (rude to Africans & fall all over white people)
• traffic
• no toilet paper 
• I'm not allowed to travel anywhere alone (unless it's by plane) 
• no one understands my American accent 
• people only use the gym for like 20 min, although it's kind of a pro because it makes my normal 50 min workout look really badass (it's not)
• the electricity goes out 3-5 times an evening 
• Tamil & Kannda sound really aggressive and strange to me
• people straight up SHOUT on the phone. I wish I could emphasis how startling it is, but it's something you have to hear for yourself
• puking adventures in Banares/double pneumonia in Dehradun 
• people are obsessed with hierarchy and "suhs" and "madddums" 
• caste system in general (quite visible) 
• cotton mattresses are hard and not fun to sleep on
• I am pale & fat 
• no dryers/fabric softener
• no toilet paper 
• no booty shorts/mini skirts allowed 
• picking your nose, spitting, brushing your teeth with you finger, weird body sounds in general ok in public (although this could be a pro for some people visiting India)
• women are definitely not equal by any means (must be modest, must be unseen, always show deference to men blah blah blah) 

PROS:

there's a 4th passenger up front!

• this is a really crappy pro, but I kind of feel colonial here, which isn't something you can really complain about
• the sound of light switches
• you don't have to feel like Jason Bourne every time you take a cold shower
• pepsi, soft drinks, etc are made with natural sugar (but a LOT.. like 60g/bottle a lot)
• you send your clothes out to be washed & pressed 
• chocolate doesn't have corn syrup (but it has hydrogenated veg fat, also known as "trans fat" but it tastes AWESOME)
• mangoes
• food in general  
• even though it takes a while for people to warm up to you, they are quite friendly once they finally do
• shopping is cheapo (unless it's imported, I'm looking at you $13 (Rs. 595) I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!) 
• not weird to see mosques & burka-clad women everywhere or people with tilaka on their foreheads   
• Gandhi's face is on money & the bills are different sizes, making it disability friendly
• the air (when it doesn't smell like piss) smells like jasmine & coconuts from the ladies' hair
• god/temples everywhere
• ladies in saris on the backs of motorcycles
• mustaches (this one goes out to the ladies as well) 
• the weather in Bangalore is perfect (mid 70s-mid 80s. Not terribly sunny & no need for AC) 
• chai 8-20 times a day 
• weird colonial influences that makes everything seem east/west-ish (also the reason Wes Anderson <3s India)

That's about it.  I still have a month & a half so maybe things will get better or I'll get the hang of things.

Happy Father's Day!

"All of my daughters, money and power strips are in DC."

Thanks for supporting me through all of my crazy adventures! I promise to bring you more power strips in the future.. and maybe be a doctor one day. Have a great day :]

On "Missing the Revolution" & the Lokpal Bill

One of the most well-known and influential medical anthropologists is Paul Farmer. As an MD/PhD, he balances the line of medical authority as well as legitimacy in the field of anthropology. His name resonates across multiple disciplines for his work on structural violence. Structural violence is felt by individuals who are at the complete mercy of the society's structure and are unable to help themselves. Individuals are more likely to endure unnecessary illness and disease and have little or no access to adequate care. It is violence to the body, internal and external, the mind, and overall wellbeing.

In Infections and Inequalities, Farmer writes about early anthropology and ethnography which involved university-educated anthropologists entering the field--most likely a poor, peasant population (where 'authenticity' is found)--gathering information about rituals and then leaving. 'Objectivity' intact, these anthropologists are said to have "missed the revolution."  While they were able to describe the Peruvian method of harvesting crop, marriage rituals, and male/female kinship patterns, they missed the Shining Path guerrillas bringing revolution to the peasants, while also creating a dangerous atmosphere for the Peruvians who were now at the mercy of the government & Fujimori as well as the Shining Path. They had no voice. However, as educated anthropologists failed to note this, they, again, missed the revolution.  So the argument goes, could these anthropologists have been a voice to these individuals? Beyond describing their rituals and beliefs, could they draw a more critical perspective on the peasant social position? Could they write about how outside failures are what contribute to the health of the individual? By this, Paul Farmer calls for a more critical view of social structure when conducting anthropological study.

Baba Ramdev

I, by no means, am equipped to write about structural violence in India. To stay in this country for only three months, it would be insulting to say I have any better insight. However, as I am here to study health and health care, I have noted some political ideology that pertains to my project. India suffers from a great deal of government corruption and 'black money.'  I even sheepishly asked my mom if she had ever bribed a cop in India (she has not, but it was not as awkward as I thought it would be to ask. Almost obvious).  This corruption has been around as long as this country and before (see: colonialism). A bill, titled the Lokpal Bill seeks to mitigate corruption by creating a third party entity that will have government oversight. It is proposed to even have oversight over the Prime Minister. What is interesting about this bill isn't that India is attempting to end corruption, but how they are doing it and the major players in the battle to get the bill before parliament for the upcoming session later this summer. Well, as luck would have it, one high-profile media presence is Baba Ramdev, a yogi with a large following has gone on a hunger strike, here in Bangalore. I also have his yoga DVDs. This guy is no small fry, he has an island in Scotland that's meant to  be a yoga retreat. 

PM Manmohan Singh, INC party

Well, not only is it interesting that in India, many government issues reach the media only though this obvious spectacle, namely with a man who is thought to be a religious leader. It can't be compared to Pat Robertson in the US, because the pervasiveness of Hindu ideology is more obvious here, whereas Christian revivalists are a loud minority. It's another breed of extremism, but one that seems oddly reasonable. He is ready to lay down his life in order to promote an anti-corruption movement, relying on his influence as a popular yogi. What really caught my interest wasn't that it was the only news story that was on the Indian channels (or the deranged elephant in Rishikesh that gored a cow). The Lokpals would use 'educated' individuals as the ombudsmen, meaning doctors and engineers. The idea that scientists are better at being anti-corruption watchdogs. The idea that an academic would somehow be un-corruptable speaks to the Indian faith in knowledge as a prime mover of modernity. It seems naive to me, but I can't make a properly formed opinion of the anti-corruption efforts just yet. I have seen minor effects of this movement on the streets and on tv, but who can say what kind of success it will have. I wouldn't characterize this as a "revolution" per se, but I will keep my eyes on this issue, as I believe it has a lot to do with my topic.

illness & health

“Health is not a commodity. Risk factors are not disease. Aging is not an illness. To fix a problem is easy, to sit with another suffering is hard. Doing all we can is not the same as doing what we should. Quality is more than metrics. Patients cannot see outside their pain, we cannot see in, relationship is the only bridge between. Time is precious; we spend it on what we value. The most common condition we treat is unhappiness. And the greatest obstacle to treating a patient's unhappiness is our own. Nothing is more patient-centered than the process of change. Doctors expect too much from data and not enough from conversation. Community is a locus of healing, not the hospital or the clinic. The foundation of medicine is friendship, conversation and hope.” —

—David Loxtercamp [sic], author of A Measure of Days: The Journal of a Country Doctor, as read in his interview with NPR’s Liane Hansen.


source: Dr. Jay Parkinson's tumblr

Travel Air India! Scented with armpits to preserve authenticity! Now running on Indian Standard Time (if your flight leaves on time, you get a refund!)

I decided to go to New Delhi on Tuesday, June 7th, to visit family after encountering a few more setbacks with the hospital, etc. I took Spice Jet (my aircraft was affectionately named "Corriender" in case you were wondering) and watched as the clouds turned from white to brown as we approached the capitol city. In Delhi, I'm staying with my mama, my mother's brother (MB, for you anthropologists). The Indian naming system for relatives is a bit more precise and great at letting the listener understand who is being referred to exactly. Out captain informed us it was 44 degrees outside (times 9/5, plus 32. I'll give you a minute....... YEAH, with 3000% humidity). As my lungs adjusted I arrived for about a week of family times. I had hoped to take some day trips to Rishikesh, Haridwar, and Dehradun (where I was born), but I have only really been to temples and malls, the two great urban pilgrimages, so I might squeeze Jaipur and Haridwar in at the end of my trip.

Yesterday, I went to Lucknow to visit even more family, this time my dad's side. I had to wake up at 5am to catch the flight and I would be going back to Delhi later that same day (a prime minister's visit my bua (FZ, for the anthropologists) called it), so was in a pretty cranky mood. I have been quite upbeat, positive, and overly friendly since I have gotten to India. I have been easy-going and just happy to be in the motherland and have been quietly enjoying the sights, sounds and smells (well up until I got to Dilli, here the smells are not too kind). However, tired and menstrual, I was not in high spirits. Waiting at the check-in counter, I waited as the Air India employee pretended to be busy on the phone while I stood next in line. A man darted ahead of me in line and tried to talk to the employee, who stood up and walked away. Annoyed, literally for the first time in India, I tapped my foot and said "Excuse me! There is a line." He said "okok go, fine." which just annoyed me more. He retreated by trotting to the counter where the phone-bound Air India employee had moved. I was pretty disgusted at how rude this guy was. Indians are not much line-standers, I know. At the mall check-out counters, it's pretty much all elbows to get what you want. It's annoying, but cultural relativity and all that crap.

Well, I passed this tasteless fellow a few more times in the airport and then didn't see him again. I knew he was on my flight, but didn't pay much attention as I waited at the gate. As we got ready for take off, I glanced up and saw him in the pilot's uniform.

Text Message Confession

The only reason I actually came to India was to see my good friend, John D. Spangler. I really am not interested in connecting with my roots or learning about India through my own experiences, gaining field experience or learning more about medical anthropology. No, the whole plot of getting this grant and going to South India was to get a glimpse of the dhoti-clad JSpangs in action, speaking Tamil. (Disclaimer: no dhotis actually occurred)

John lives in Madurai, Tamil Nadu, which is about 6-8 hours away from where I am staying in Bangalore. I got to take a car down and visit John for two days and see a new city. The trip itself was beautiful, we went through rural areas, mountains, little cities along the way. It was an India I had never seen before.

Ganesh

Something I had been looking forward to doing in Bangalore that has not yet happened was meeting other non-Indians who were adjusting to the new country and knew how to negotiate the foreigner experience. I don't appear foreign until I open my mouth, then all bets are off. In fact, I was almost not allowed into the Meenakshi Temple, because the guard thought I was a foreigner. I was actually upset that even in a salwar kameez, I did not appear passable. I had to keep my mouth shut and let Sukhbir argue my case for me in Hindi. Non-Hindus are not allowed in the inner sanctum where Meenakshi/Parviti shrine and the Shiva lingum are. Perhaps because they are afraid it will be overrun with tourists who are not there to worship and the line to get in was already quite long (I waited for 30-40 minutes to catch a glimpse of the Meenakshi murti and then shoved along). I still took a sneak photo of Ganeshji with a grass garland from Nandi. I was scolded by a priest when I went for a photo of Nandi later.

inside Meenakshi Temple

Meenakshi Temple is one of the few big temples in India that is devoted to a female deity. Meenakshi is a the manifestation of Parvati, Shivaji's consort. Meenakshi Temple is also the main attraction in Madurai. The temple is in the center of the city and everything is built around it. It's an old, beautiful, colorful temple, nothing like I've ever seen up North. We got our fortune told by a parrot outside the temple (I will have a husband and two children soon :| and John is about to get $$$) but the parrot pooped on JSpangs, so we were over it quickk. Also, John is a baller in Madurai. He's lived there a year and about half the shopkeepers in the entire city know him and chat him up and don't cheat him on prices.

We went to see a Tamil film later (I know negative twenty words in Tamil) and I magically understood the entire film, start to finish. Kollywood films seem to be more sexually reserved than Bollywood films, but incredibly violent. It was interesting to see their use of social issues such as corruption, the media, etc., but not provide any actual commentary. It was simply the setting. Moral: populist movements will never (again) work in India and if you try to meddle in a love triangle, you're gonna get killed. Also, Bollywood costumes and music are waayy better, which is something I thought I would never say. I ended my stay in Madurai with a few of John's fellow friendly foreigners on a rooftop with some North Indian food and ginger lime sodas. (We ate a lot in general the two days I was there, duh). I have a feeling that the rest of my India trip will not be as foreigner-filled, so I'm so glad I caught John before he left the country. Thanks for an awesome weekend, Brit-knee!

rooftop in Madurai with the man himself

meet the Mango King

A lot of you have commented that I have not updated my blog. Sorry mom.

Not much to report. Went to the grocery store, which is approximately 1/4 ketchup, 1/2 mangoes, 1/4 masala. Oh yeah, and I got to meet the Mango King.

I was like a dog with my head out the window

I finally got to see downtown Bangalore/Bengaluru. I prayed I would see some white people, I don't know why. I was mostly excited to get out of the flat (no, I promise I won't come back saying little colonized terms. fun game! try to guess what 'dickie' and 'geezer' mean!) and see the city. I actually live in the Arlington of Bangalore and the hospital is in Crystal City, so it's a pretty ideal situation for me. But it's removed from the real urban, downtown stuff.

First, we went to ISKCON (International Society for Krishna Consciousness) Temple, which was beautiful and quite interesting. They had culture camps for kids, programs for adults, and an organization to feed children in India. There was a pretty long line to get to the shrines, but everything was so beautifully decorated (and smelled AMAZING) it  was well worth the wait.  It took longer to get out of the temple past all the books, malas, food, incense, Krishna murtis, etc. etc. tables to navigate through to get to the exit, than it did to get to the shrines. Also, the temple was on higher ground, so the entrance provided a fantastic view of the whole city.

In true urbanite tradition, we proceeded to go the the Mall. I was mostly curious about what it was like, rather than having any real need to buy things. Again, I was interested to see if there were any white people around. I found Asians, so I'll call it even. I also found a LUSH, which was more surprising to me.  However, the most momentous moment of my downtown escapades was not the religious pilgrimage, experiencing Bangalore traffic, or witnessing the same above ground metro construction Tyson's is enduring. No. It was the moment we drove by "The Square, a single origin cafe" or something like that.. I literally went

as we drove by and then calmly turned and asked "Uncle, how far are we from home?"
"about an hour"

I had seen young Indians and non-Indians sipping coffee and reading books. Steeping tea and writing the next great American Bollywood Screenplay on their laptops, while actually cruising facebook or reddit or whatever they do in India. I don't know how or when, but I want to go to there. I've been missing coffee despite  drinking 3+ cups of chai a day. More than that, I really want to schmooze some Indians who like to waste time with good coffee. And, I feel like a great deal of my in-India laptoppery should happen in a coffee shop, since I wrote most of my grant between Baked & Wired and Dolcezza in DC.

Hospital snafus & other perplexing problems

I went to the hospital I am studying at for the first time yesterday. I had been in previous contact with the hosptial to explain my objectives and experimental design. There does not seem to be any real problem with the study itself, but there are a few more hoops to jump through, which I wish had been brought to my attention sooner. I'm at a frustrating stand-still and can't even get out and explore. I guess I'll just use this time to polish up the details and make sure everything runs smoothly as possible.

I had spoken to my original point of contact on the phone and arranged to see him "anytime before lunch" which turned out to be "I'll show up when I have time, so please wait in my office for an hour." Fine. Going to the hospital was the #1 reason I came to India, so I can wait. There was confusion as to what my purpose was, but they were impressed with my credentials and the fact that I had just traveled across the world to see them. There really should n't have been any confusion, as I had emailed the heck out of them with copies of my grant proposal, approval, and IRB synopsis. Still, it became clear that there was still confusion over what I was there to accomplish.  I got bounced around to several doctors with the introduction "This young lady is here from the U.S. and would like to do some..ah...anthropology......" to which I had to conceal my amusement. I had to explain several times that I was not there to study at the hospital, but rather study the hospital at. wait I mean study the hospital itself. I now have to prepare a powerpoint for their review board before I can start Nancy Notebook-ing around.

To pass the time, I have been re-reading some anthropological literature, including Kleinman, my favorite Byron J. Good (and his--sigh-- wife, Mary Jo Good), and Kiran Narayan's How Native is a Native Anthropologist?  One of my favorite quotes comes from her ethnography:

"It's not that you shouldn't study," he said, voice low and kind. 'You should gain
wisdom. But you should realize that in the end this means nothing."

on the topic of academics obsessing too much over analysis. I have also been reading Bossypants, since I've finished the Tao of Wu. I keep mixing up details of the RZA's life with Tina Fey's awkward years.

Arey yaar! That's not how you eat a mango!

Day 2 in India and already I have made leaps and bounds. I will preface this post by explaining the family I am staying with.. it’s less complicated than it sounds. My father’s cousin’s son’s in-laws. So related by marriage, but my father’s cousin’s son (I will vote this is a second cousin, because I don’t actually know the kinship rules.. omg worst anthropologist ever, right?) and his wife, Priyanka (Piku) are as close as family gets when you’re an Indian ex-pat. Especially since we’ve lived together in the States. And when you’re Indian, basically anyone who you’re friends with is family. Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, mangoes.

So last night, uncle was telling me how he would compete with his daughter, Piku over who could eat the most of the core of the mango, the gootley. This is a great pride among Indians. Eating a mango well shows a great deal of fortitude and dedication to the deliciousness of the mango. I am ashamed to say I SUCK at this. I spoon the easy part, give up, look remorsefully at the remaining mango that would require some heart and struggle and hand over the rest to moms or sis in defeat. I have never even attempted the core. So last night, at uncle’s challenge I sheepishly spooned the halves and didn’t even dare to look at the gootley in the eye. I had to forfeit. Well, today, I had my first meal in the house alone. Subhir chastised me for not eating enough (he is indeed trying to fatten me up even more than I already fattened up in the States) and brought me a mango. Oh god. You can’t say no to the mango. The problem is that mangoes in India are seven million times more delicious than anything you will find on the other side of the world. Scientific fact, look it up. So it is definitely a privilege and an opportunity to be fed mangoes daily. Sukhbeer leaves the room and I evaluate my orange and green opponent. I prepare a napkin for the showdown.

So, I didn’t crush the mango like a real Indian, I took a stab at eating the gootley, praying Sukhbeer wouldn’t walk in at a compromising moment. The core wasn’t even white when I was done.. it was still orange, as was my entire face. And now my nails will be mango-stained forever. No regrets.

More on actual Cotlow/field experience later, a lot of interesting stuff happened at the hospital today.

Also, side note for moms: I spoke in Hindi with Suhkbeer and he’s going to teach me to cook. Maybe I’ll be an expert-mango-eater when I get back, too.

Washington Dulles & Jazz Muzak on the speakers....

"halp"

I'm pretty exhausted from my dog keeping me up all night due to freaking out over a thunderstorm (not because she was anxious about the suitcases) but I'm also ready to get on the airplane and read more Tina Fey's Bossypants and pass out in my horseshoe pillow (yeah, I have that kind of foresight).

god, gandhi, dramamine

 

There are a lot of young, Indian families on their way to Bangalore/Bengaluru. I was one of these kids once, so it's kind of interesting how full-circle this is.. well kind of. Also: a lot of Tamil going on right now and I don't understand Tamil at all, which is another weird feeling. It's strangely comforting, while being isolating at the same time. I can only imagine these parents praying their kid won't vom on the flight (I have vommed on approximately 4+ flights) and they have no idea how hard I'm praying that I won't be next to a vomming/crying kid. This is going to be a strange but familiar trip.

UPDATE: my "Virginia is for Lovers" tshirt didn't go over well in Heathrow. also we may need to invest in sleeping Englishmen as a new source of energy. How do they emit so much heat while sleeping on airplanes????

Attention Volcanoes: stop errupting right before I have a layover in Heathrow!

Icelandic volcano ash 'will reach UK soon'

#whitewhines

Last night in the US

So, I'm sure everyone knows by now how bad I am at using new internet-type spaces (tumblr, skype, etc.). I'll try to learn how to use blogspot efficiently, but I make no promises!

The title of the blog comes from the book/film Eat, Pray, Love. Which I never read or saw, but I'm going to India (which the protagonist does in the book for the "Pray" leg of her journey) so it seemed just cheesy enough for me. I also have been eating like I have been starving all semester (I have not, ask Matthew, the owners of Dangerously Delicious Pies, and every brunch spot in a 15 block radius of my apartment) and the grant I will be traveling on is called the Cotlow Grant. There will likely be zero cupcakes or pies in Bangalore, unfortunately, but plenty of techies, Google execs, and Western ex-pats.

I'm pretty nervous, scared, under-prepared, excited and relieved to be finally embarking on this long, long, LONG planned trip. I'm scared of India because I get sick every time I set foot in that country. Which is why I decided to go after I graduated, I need to make peace with the motherland. The last time I was there over New Year's 2008, I got apocalyptically ill in Varanasi, vomited all over their tiny airport and the flight to Delhi, my immune system was so low at this point, I got the flu in addition to my stomach virus, went back to my dorm (alone) in Richmond and had an allergic reaction to the anti-biotic and was rushed to the ER at VCU where a med student stabbed the crap out of all three of my brachial veins in each arm in order to pay it forward to the veins I'm gonna wreck when I'm doing his job. But I am so ready to go back because it has been far too long.

Varanasi, India

I'm excited because these past four years have been amazingly stressful and difficult. I took on a lot more than I should have and my personal well-being has been pushed to its limits with my lifestyle. Taking refuge in my tiny studio in Logan Circle, I have turned into a workaholic recluse with an addiction to local coffee shops and a penchant for eating poorly and not exercising because "I just don't have the time." I am well on my way to being the creepy regular who throws stink-eye at college students over her laptop while stuffing her face with chicken salad at Soho. wait what.

Anyway, long story short (too late!) I've worked myself into a sub-human, over-stressed, quasi-grad student who stopped utilizing her fantastic wardrobe of shoes and dresses. My only new year's resolution this year was not to get stagnant and I definitely have done that so I'm going to go to the place I find the scariest in the world and I'm gonna kick ass and take names!! Well, pseudonyms because I am doing anthropology and have to follow some guidelines or whatnot... you catch my drift.

Will miss DC terribly and I will be stalking all of you staying in the city this summer to live vicariously though your brunching, concert-going, happy-hourin', bike-riding, pie-eating, and Dupont people-watching.  Tell a yuppie or tourist (or a yuppie-tourist!) to move the hell over to the right on the Metro escalators for me & have a lovely summer everyone :)