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 :)