petersburg, day 5

The last day in Petersburg, Christine and I wandered around the Russian State museum. This was after we slept in, checked out of the hotel, bought a phone card, and made a freaking-complicated pay phone call to Natalya, whose baby was sick and couldn't meet us. The woman at the Russian Museum who helped us was crazy nice. The Russian Museum was OK. There was only one picture that I remembered, maybe two. Oh, that barge-pullers on the Volga something or other, I recognized that from a propaganda poster.

I'm in Chicago now and the plane is getting ready to board, and my computer is about to die.

I went to see Ella and Sasha, my old host mom and her son. It was wonderful, but short-lived. She gave me sweets, as she remembered I loved them. Happy happy.

Then a slightly-worrisome taxi ride to the train station, and Christine and I got onto the train with a woman and her sullenly inquisitive teenage daughter.

Oh, but we're going now.

So I'll finish later, with more details.

petersburg, 4

It is late. It is cold.

So much could be said, but must not be. So instead, superfically, I will leave you with this conversation (broken Russian) between me and the Russian waiter we took "out" for drinks tonight.

Waiter: Why do you look so sad?
Me: Me? Oh, that's just my face.

We had company visits today--a belabored speech in English about branding in Russia, and a rather funny speech (with an overheated room) about the IT industry in Russia, before, during and after perestroika. Then it was home again, and eventually to the Vodka Museum for dinner, with Maya, Ana, Christine, and Edward. Then to the Sky Bar again, where we bought Sergey (the waiter we stole from the Vodka Museum) some espresso, and looked at his photographs (Nikon D90). Then we had the conversation. I guess I told this story backwards. But there's not much to it. I just started out with the most interesting part (that I can talk about on a blog anyway. the rest goes in the imaginary diary).

Petersburg, 3

The weather was amazing today! Warm and springy (not like a sponge, like the season). We went to the Hermitage, where all of our feet hurt. I was impressed with one guy from our group who reeked of alcohol, but who stood through the entire 3 hour tour (a 3 hour tour!).* There was serious attrition of the group. First off, about 5 people stayed home entirely, hungover, despite having paid 16 euros for the tour. Second of all, people got bored looking at pictures of the baby Jesus and wandered off to do their own thing. Christine was disappointed not to see more Russian art, but hopefully we will have time to go to the Russian State Museum on our last free day before the train.

*Yes, that was a reference to Gilligan's Island

Then we went to a Georgian restaurant with a huge group, which predictably (though we held out hope otherwise) took forever. The group asked me lots of questions about the menu, which I could not answer. Christine and I got a pretty good variety of veggie appetizers, and I had a glass of wine for some reason. She had some "Georgian vodka." It was called chub-chub or something. Wait, no, that was Andy's hamster that probably had diabetes. I guess this was called chacha.

I came home to work on my essays, but fell asleep for about 10 hours. I realize Christine has done me a wonderful service by being wide-eyed about all things Russia, and keeping me from taking naps in the afternoon. She did a better thing than I by taking advantage of the afternoon sunshine. But sometimes you just have to take a 10 hour nap, wake up at 2am, and work on your midterm that you somehow didn't get out of despite being in MFing RUSSIA!

I can't believe I'll be home in a week. I can't believe I've been here a week. We've done so much in that week, I feel like.

In other non-Russia news, the CIA wrote me back about my job application, and I might have the option for a few fellowships. They might send me back to India, which I'm still very ambivalent about. I have also nearly finished my application for the fellowship I hope to get next Fall, which would allow me to put off the end of my schooling for one more semester. I am less ambivalent about this fellowship, though nervous about my chances of getting it, and nervous about my appropriateness if I do get it.

One thing about traveling in a group is you have about 10 pictures of you taken a day. Which means you should always look your best, which is annoying and difficult for me. Good thing I brought my makeup (I almost didn't). There are a lot of cute people on this trip, and I don't want to look too hideous next to them.

Petersburg, 2

Today, went to Pushkin and the Idiot, two of my favorite places. But we didn't walk around the grounds at Pushkin, which is what I like about it. Instead we looked at two boring-ass palaces. I've seen enough palaces for a lifetime. I was very angry about this, even though I got a few good shots of the snow-covered grounds from the palace. FYI, the weather is somehow perfect even in winter.

But it is nearly spring.

At the Idiot, we were with Ricardo, Ana, Edward, Christine, and Michael. We were low-key and sober, though Christine and I split a bottle of champagne.

Also, today, we went and bought our train tickets, which was really taxing my Russian skills. But I managed, and feel very proud. Everyone was very nice to me after. It means no hotel that night, and we get back to Sergeev Posad pretty easily. Christine and I paid extra for a ladies wagon.

Then we went to the hotel's Sky Bar, which had a lovely view. Michael informed me that there was a fire in a trashcan outside the hotel, but didn't seem overly concerned about it, as he mentioned it halfway through a conversation. Once again, the conversation veered towards gossip, about which people we did and didn't like, and the latest reasons for said sentiments. Drama! Like you wouldn't believe! Email me for more details. I'll send you the canned version.

Tomorrow the Hermitage. Last night a very, very low-key evening with just me and Christine and Edward, talking about gymnastics, as he knew a lot about it, as he is on the UT team. He also has translated at a bunch of competitions (he is half Brazilian and half Thai) and has met most of the famous girls.

My one contactless eye (still scratched from India) keeps drooping, and I look a bit like Thom Yorke. That is my signal to go to bed. It is nearly midnight.

I can't wait to be asleep. It is my favorite.

dialogue with me and my roommate:

rm: do I look slutty?
Me: Yes, totally. It's awesome.
rm: fuck! Ok, really?
Me: Ummmm....kind of, yeah.
rm: OK, let's go.

Moscow, 3 and 4

Yesterday, despite the previous bachanalian night, nearly everyone was up for the 9am speakers we had on the current business climate in Russia. Some were interesting, some were not so interesting. I asked two questions, and managed to prevent ALL the blood from rushing to my face as I asked them.

In the afternoon, we did something I can't remember, and then Christine and I walked down Arbat (both new and old). Old was clearly superior (walking down New Arbat was like being inside a casino), and we had the nice experience of having very helpful folks give us directions. I also had the experience of getting that melted-candy-bar-like hot chocolate.

When we got back, it was about time to go to the ballet. The Bolshoi Ballet! To see Don Quixote! Only! I was sick! (sore throat that I arrived with) and tired (always), and left after the first act with Nihar (MBA). I got a good night's sleep for once. But felt bad about missing most of the ballet. I gave my ticket to an old lady, so at least someone enjoyed the ticket. Maya's dad had bought everyone those tickets! Which was amazingly generous of him. He bought tickets, transportation, and security for a hockey game for half the group tonight. And some of the rest of us he's taking out to dinner. AND he set up a business lunch with some vice presidents of BP in Russia for some of our practicum groups.

There's some high drama going on amongst some of the ladies of this group. That along with the irresponsible drinking makes me feel about 17 (or really, 14, and my first trip to Russia). Such silliness. Such silliness. What a rogue! Silence!

I feel like I'm already messing up some of this entry. Like, I think Christine and I did Arbat the day before yesterday, and then did the entire length of Tverskaya yesterday, looking for me a Russian-like coat (mine stands out too much for my taste, though it keeps me nice and warm). A black fur-collared thing would be perfect, and there are so many skidki (sales), I surely can find one, right?

The point is, even though I feel like I don't have as much in common with many of the MBAs as I hoped, I have a group of people who will be my BFFs on this trip--Maya, Christine, Michael, and maybe even Ana, who I don't know well enough. I'm looking forward to meeting Maya's generous dad at dinner tonight. And her stepmom and sister.

Tomorrow night we take the overnight train to St. Petersburg. I can't wait to be back there.

moscow, 1 and 2

The flight was practically empty (I got my two seats to myself--bet those trust fund kids that upgraded to first class felt like suckers!). Passport control was fast and trouble free. My bag was one of the first dozen off. We all gathered to get onto the bus, and I realized that about half this class (which has met for three hours every week for 6 weeks) looks completely unfamiliar to me. I know all the girls, none of the guys.

Maya (born in Azerbaijan, but came here when she was 2) is my rooomate. Her dad lives in Moscow and she's spending lots of time with him. She used to be a news anchor in Waco, and she's super nice. I'm lucky she's my roommate because she's one of my two favorite people on the trip (other being Christine). Maya and I are able to have secret conversations about people right in front of them because we both speak Russian.

There's this one guy who has been drunk the whole time so far. Which is incredible. And embarassing, because the whole bus smells like a frat party every time he belches.

Christine and I walked around, to Red Square yesterday. Then last night, we went to Turandot, an amazing baroque restaurant. We were treated to a variety of acts, including a string quartet consisting of supermodels and a background of techno/karaoke music. Then the a capella Russian Backstreet Boys. All as we ate one of those teensy-portioned rich-person-restaurant meals. But it was aesthetically pleasing, and isn't that what people really want in their food?

When we walked in, a lady took a picture of me, Maya, and Christine (we had taken Maya's dad's car, while the rest of the group walked, like suckers!). The lady posed us in awkward ways, and we figured we were going to be sold photos at the end of the night. But it seems we in fact may be featured in some society page online. I doubt we'll make the cut. But that's the kind of place the restaurant was.

We also got roses and perfume bottles, because it's international women's day (March 8, plus the monday after in this case).

Today, we had a metro tour, and we saw the church of Christ the savior, which was (re) built in the 90's. So, it's brand new. We spent way too much time there than was necessary.

I skipped the afternoon Kremlin trip, ostensibly to do my take-home essay that's due, but in reality, to listen to hypnotism CDs and sleep for a couple of hours. I was doing so well about the jetlag (got up at 6:30 aned worked out this morning). Despite the fact that I woke up every hour on the hour last night, I was able to go back to sleep relatively quickly.

Christine and I walked to the Arbat streets, after asking directions from two people--one youth, and one very nice lady who followed us and made sure we got from New Arbat to Old Arbat. It was a nice walk down the pedestrian street, despite all the chain stores. I got some cough medicine, and I think she told me to disolve it in water and take it once per day, but I'm going to get Maya to help me read the label nonetheless. The conversation went something like

Me: I don't have the words for that which I need, but I have coughing {fake coughs}
Lady: Yes, I understand coughing. What do you need from me?
Me: Medicine.
Lady: Obviously. But, do you want {incomprehensible}
Me: Maybe. What's that?
Lady: {sighs, gets a box of medicine} Here. {gives instructions}

So, for all I know, she gave me strychine. Which I don't even know how to spell in English, what are my chances in Russian?

Speaking of dialogues, here is one from my Russian lessons:

Me: I read some of your cookies last night!
Tutor: {understands what I mean, but frowns gravely} You have made a big mistake.

Christine and I just got back from our walk, and are resting before going out with a guy who lives here in Moscow, but it applying to school at McCombs (the business school, which I'm traveling with), so is interested in getting to know some of the students. Christine and I get along because we are both hyper-aware of being in the group of Loud Americans. And mortified by the alcoholics on our trip.

something amazing happened

I'm home, first of all. I made it, and my cats are happy to see me, and my family are happy to see me. And all that. And tomorrow I'm going to see multiple doctors, but not the one that can deal with this horrendous cold I've come down with.

But here's what happened at the airport: as I was boarding the plane, I was informed that I'd been upgraded to business class for the 14 hour flight. It was a miracle. This post has not much information or entertainment value, but I had to share this important milestone in my life.

Fate

I got a hotel in Paharganj, and I actually like the area after all (it is the area where last time, when we stayed here after Varanasi, there was no electricity and no water, when all we wanted was a shower and AC; this time I have a slightly nicer hotel). But weirdly, after I'd been trying idly to find this bike shop since, as I said, three months ago when I came, it's right next door to the hotel I happened to get. Awesome!

I'm trying to find a non-dodgy theater (bike shop people said the one right next to me is bad news for Western ladies) so I can catch up on US movies. I have a lot to see this summer. Dark Knight, of course, being first on my list. Actually, that's all I can think of right now, but really there are lots of movies to see, aren't there? I missed the end of Indiana Jones when (don't read!) the crystal aliens completed their intelligence module and launched into space. Unless Alex was messing with us. This is probably as accurate a movie about alien culture as Temple of Doom was about India. I haven't had any chilled monkey brains here yet, but maybe it's because I keep saying "veg" and not "non-veg."

Train Station (in chandigarh)

My second experience with the tranis here, but my first in top class, and my first alone. And, I just realized, my last travel day before the big one home. I happened to call the airline to discover my flight had been moved up by 45 minutes and that I should get to the airport 3 1/2 hours early. Good thing I called! I might have missed my flight!

But my last travel day! Thank god! I tried to search myself for a sense of regret, but there wasn't much. There was a little, to think I will no longer be "traveling India" anymore, but rather just biding my time in Delhi till I go home.

I actually have plenty to do in Dlehi, and plenty of it is part of the project, but all the same, it's the end. I'll be looking for closure as I go through all the activities I have. Meeting the Loyola group, going to Bullet Wallas. The Loyola group is a group that will work with Tibetan refugees (I think), and BulletWallas is the motorcycle shop Eric told me about that I've been trying to get to ever since I landed 3 months ago.

second-guesses

Going into town with them was weird. We took her brother-cousin’s car, and he was also eager to help me with my research. Maybe I’m too on-edge about everything lately, but I just don’t trust him. I called Mom and Dad to leave all his info that he’d given me in case I went missing. I had suspicions of all of them all day. Hopefully, and likely, all is what it seems (not the part that seems suspicious, I mean). But I’m getting fed up with being a woman, at least for this project. Especially after the weirdness with the guy at the BBMB. I’m not at all comfortable setting boundaries in a foreign culture now.

Another thing to take into account about this guest house is its incredible noise level. I have to wear my earplug-headphones (thanks Dad), just to read!

Everything’s got me on edge. Not in a pathologically anxious way, just in a genuine, reasonable way. I’m sure the constant noise is contributing to this feeling.

I feel like I’ve written so little in this notebook, but maybe it’s more I have small handwriting, and the pages are thin. It’s quite a nice notebook. If I combined all the journaling I’ve done, that is, almost everything that’s up between the two blogs, I’ve been pretty good about keeping a journal this trip. Not every-day-good, but pretty good.

my room in khalini

Let me take stock of my room. The toilet won’t flush, the sink doesn’t work, the hot water heater drips constantly, the door locks me in if I’m not careful, the curtains provide no privacy from a somewhat busy thoroughfare, and the temple across the street means people are ringing bells from about 5am, at odd, unpredictable intervals. It’s still one of my favorite places I’ve stayed, probably because the bed is pretty comfortable, with its two thick non-woolen covers. There are also no pillowcases on the two dingiest looking pillows I’ve ever seen, but I’ve covered them up with the covers, so it’s OK.

Now I’m sitting, waiting for Madhu and Rakesh’s ride. M and I spent the morning together, speaking broken English, but managing to at lest communicate our mutual good will. She seems kind and patient. She was going to take me to the temple across the street, where her husband was, ut at the last minute asked if I’d had eggs for breakfast. I had, so I couldn’t go in, but I’d rather not go in than offend anyone’s gods. It doesn’t quite seem fair that I’m so close to pure veg and can’t at least poke my head in. It looks quite small and unimpressive, though, so I’ll pretend I’m not missing much.

onions

At the ashram, Swati told me that eating raw onion helps you with the hot weather. Which seems like a reasonable thing that could be true. But she also said that carrying a raw onion around in your pocket also helps you stay cool. Which does not seem like a reasonable thing that could be true. I know that ashrams are all about believing in unreasonable things that may not be true, but I don’t think onion lore is included in these Things.

I’m writing a lot. I think I should go to bed for a bit. With the taste of raw onion still in my mouth.

i am traveling in india (did you know?)

While at the Panjab Univeristy Guest House, I managed to forget four days in a row to ask for sheets and pillows. So I slept without either, though I made do with a scarf and my travel towel. It can actually get pretty cold with that fan running while you sleep.

Speaking of which, I’m going on my third straight week with no AC, maybe longer. It doesn’t really matter much here in Shimla, nor did it in Mussorie, but I’m proud of my accomplishment just the same. Summer in India, to quote my doctor (incidentally of grad of Panjab University) is freaking hot. But the hill stations are downright chilly. Good thing for my awesome reversible Harry Potter cloak I got in Mussorie!

Tonight at dinner, I met a nice couple. The wife (Madhu) doesn’t speak English, but through her husband (Rakesh) she asked me if I’d like to go into Shimla with them tomorrow. I should explain that I’m actually outside of Shimla in a forest rest house. There is a small town here, though, so it’s not as remote as it might sound. Khalini Forest, if anyone cares. There is a temple across the road, so there is all this joyful singing and drumming reminding me pleasurably that heck yeah, I’m in India. Heck yeah I got a sweet place to stay and a free ride into town tomorrow. Hells yes, to quote Tabby about whom I will always think when I hear that phrase.

I got copies of a lot of really helpful reports while in Chandigarh, and while they sorted out my room this evening, I looked through some of the data, just to get an idea of some of the stuff I’ll have to work with. They apologized repeatedly for disturbing me, and I felt for once like an important researcher. I don’t even know how many of those charts and tables stuck in my head, but maybe it will ring a bell later when someone asks how much rainfall is absorbed by surface water as opposed to groundwater.

I desperately need to do laundry, but probably won’t. Travel days just wear me out, even when they go as smoothly as today’s did (thanks for Daizy and Harminder and others in the lab). I just feel so uprooted, I need to re-orient in whatever new place I am. I’m glad to have the weekend to start out, even though I don’t have either of my interviews confirmed for Monday. Although this is par for the course here, I’m still a bit nervous that my trip up here may have no official purpose.

Still, at lets it will increase my street cred on the “traveled through India” front. Let me take stock: I’ve been in Delhi, Dehradun, (Kathmandu), Jaipur, Varanasi, Rishikesh, Haridwar, Rajaji and Corbett parks, Leh, Mussorie, Chandigarh, and Shimla. Some of these places multiple times. No wonder I’m always so tired!

Chandigarh: from Shimla

Incidentally, I ran into the woman who clapped her hands and demanded money, a few weeks later at the same intersection. She hit me on the head and said “I bless you. Give me money!” and I said without hitting her on the head “I bless you right back. I ain’t got no damn money.” Because I still found her hilarious.

Right now I’m in Shimla and because of my computer being dead, I’m having to go back to doing this journal thing manually. I’m also having to close my rest house door with more effort than I’d like. There’s no door knob on the inside, so if I close it normally, I lock myself in. But with MacGyver-grade placement of paper wads, I can close and even lock the door, though I still have the chair in front of it for good measure.

My last few days in Chandigarh were out of a dream. Well, that is to say, I only had two fantasy dreams of being home in my four days there. I interviewed three people, though the batteries died during this morning’s third. Everyone was unbelievably helpful, and the Botany Department for whatever reason really took me under its wing. I will be forever indebted to them for recharging my spirits (and my computer), even as the government official I was working with dropped heavy hints that we should have an affair. To repeat my earlier sentiments on that matter, eeyuck.

I got to ride several times on the back of a scooter, which was pretty exciting. Today I rode with a girl to the Rock Garden (look it up). I made a whirlwind tour of it. (Professor) Harminder of the Botany Dept was surprised when I got back so early, and I told him I thought I got lost. He said there was only one path. I said that didn’t mean I couldn’t get lost (which is true). In fact, the whole place reminded me of a map on Myst (video game). I kept expecting significant music to play every time I saw a weird little figurine made of trash. Harminder’s every-smiling eyes seemed especially amused that I could get lost in the Rock Garden, but what can I say. It is my talent.

sudden interest in botany ray

I have a new roommate. His name is Hanta, and he is a mouse. A very, very small mouse, and I’m afraid I’m going to accidentally transport him to my next destination, which incidentally is Simla. I’ve already bought my train ticket to Delhi, so my travel days better go exactly as expected, or else. I got the best ticket to Delhi that they had (first AC class), but it’s likely I’ll be asleep for much of the trip, since it leaves before 7am.

I think I got majorly hit on today. It probably could go into My Studies blog, actually, as it is more related to that, but eeyuck, I’m too skeeved out to give a detailed account. I’m not sure how I could dress more conservatively, short of a burqa, but something about me screams ho in Hindi. I doubt they even have a word for that. They probably just say “American.” I repeat: eeyuck.

And lastly, I will try to fill in the blanks for some of our quotes. Here’s one from Ladakh. It more of a dialogue:

Me: My friends…are they here?
Guest House Owner: Hmmm…Americans?
Me: Yes! A girl and a boy…the girl has long, curly red hair!
GHO: Ah, ah, yes, they are here. [directs me to a room with two Japanese-American girls. I apologize to them]
Me: [thinks long time] Ummm…red hair? Like this [indicates curly] and like this [indicates a red flower, which turns out later to be a plastic bloom pasted to a real plant]
GHO: Oh, oh! A lady and a gent! Gent is Indian?
Me: [decides the language barrier doesn’t facilitate me explaining that Alex is Filipino-American.] Yes, that’s right!
GHO: No, no one here like that.

my studies wear me out

I've made several update in the Studies blog, and once again I have no energy or creativity to update this blog.

S informs me that I probably have some horrible dermal parasite which hasn't manifested yet. Yes, I used her initial because of confidentiality purposes. like you can't figure it out if you cared.

I can't believe it's almost 7, and I've been at the computer for hours. It turns out the computer lab is a sociable place, though, and I've met several people. One girl is going to take me out and show me the campus tonight, since I keep getting lost. Everyone here is the Nicest Person I've Ever Met, making Punjab my favorite state. Or at least Chandigarh my favorite city. In the world. Maybe that's going a bit far, but I feel wonderful about it right now. Except about the S key on this keyboard.

sorry....

What was that last (now deleted) post even about? I have no idea, and of course you can't be expected to either. Sorry about that. No more posts before 8am.

I haven't posted or written in my Studies blog because my computer has up and died. Which is lame of it, and I tried to explain to it that none of the other computers wants to play with a dead lappy, but it remains dead. I'm sort of in mourning, though there's still hope that if I get a new charger, it will work again. For now, it's just a fragile hunk of junk that I'm forced to carry around with me everywhere. Dumb computer!

It's my third full day at LBS in Mussoorie. India is growing on me more every day, and I'm afraid after all my homesickness and misery, I'll be equally unhappy to return home. No, that's not true, because I can't wait to see my family and my cats and my friends (including Andy, yay!). There are things I won't miss about India, that's true enough. But I have a feeling that I will look back quite fondly on most of this experience for the rest of my life.

Next week, I have the chance to visit an ashram. Which kind of is amazing when I think about it. They're just going to let me stop by and check it out. I'm really looking forward to that, so I hope my bad travel luck doesn't strike on that particular day.

I keep dreaming of Ladakh, and flying! It's the awesomest dream ever!

This update is equally disjointed, but I have no excuse of exhaustion. I guess my excuse is hunger because I'm about to go to dinner right now.

Quotes

Thse are in no particular order. If we could plan it better, we would have ordered it by things that you might funny vs. things we will always find hilarious and no one else will get. But we didn't think that far ahead while we were thinking of them. Put these on your own blogs, Sarah and Alex.

“There goes the King! That guy owes me money!” Otsal, guest house owner.
We were having dinner outside with Otsal. For like two hours. He was very jovial, but was verbose. He mentioned he went to school with the queen of Ladakh. Later, a Bolero (SUV) drove by the restaurant, and the guy said the quote, offering to call the king back for us.

“Brad and Angelina came to this shop, and I didn’t know them. I just thought, yah! They take quite good care of their bodies.” Praveen, internet shop owner in Varanasi.
We couldn’t quote to do Praveen justice, but we wanted at least one quote from him. His trademark was to open his eyes wide and say “Yah!” He had lots of stories about his various customers throughout the years.

“I think some people think we Brahmins have an attitude.” Praveen. Who totally had an attitude.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of the United States.” Guen (goon?), the Belgian boy whom we grudgingly had allowed to sleep on the roof with us.
Funnier was when Sarah whispered to me under the blanket “That was rude!” We couldn’t stop giggling after that because he kept saying rude things until we made a point of going to sleep.

“Score one for America” Sarah.
Related to the above; we were on the roof, and it was raining. So Sarah and I both thought really hard to ourselves “Stop rain stop rain stop rain stop rain” and then it let up and stopped. We felt superior to our rude Belgian roofmate.

“Storm is a selfish bitch. That’s probably why they got Halle Berry to play her.” Sarah.
We realized that Storm, the X-Man, would do better to stop drought and famine with her powers, and leave the fighting to people with less transferable powers.

“That’s incorrect.” Carrie.
When a armrest of the seat in front of us fell backwards into our seat, Carrie stared for a moments, and then said this the first time. She continued to say it, for instance if a straw was faulty, or if anything ever went wrong or unexpectedly (which it did).

“I’m sorry. Would you like to punch me in the stomach?” Carrie.
Carrie had talked about how she likes to get her dad and brother to punch her in the stomach to build up muscle like Muhammed Ali did. But they never liked to do it, so she tried to trick them into it. In Varanasi, Alex was stressed out about a near-miss incident with two shifty looking guys who clearly were up to no good. Alex felt like he needed to be our protector, but he’d felt helpless and weird about it, so he was frustrated and pent up. Carrie made this offer, but Alex laughed and said “No, I’m trying to protect y’all, not punch you in the stomach.”

“Cover stealer!” Sarah.
Sarah whispered this very quietly into Alex’s ear in the middle of the night, waking him up, and making them both crack up hysterically in the middle of a sleepy night.

“That’s precious!” Sarah.
Quoted on Carrie’s blog.

“I did a photo session with the guy from the guest house kitchen. He wanted…he wanted them with his mobile phone in one hand, and waving with the other.” Sumit, semi-professional photographer.
Our friend who took fantastic pictures. Here is the actual picture, which we were excited to finally see. Sorry I can't figure out a way to put it in the post itself--something keeps backfiring.

“I think you just want to sit next to him, and it’s really starting to piss me off.” Alex.
Sarah doesn’t like when guys have a barbed wire tattoo around their arm. She and Alex were on the plane to Leh, and Alex was in the middle, with Sarah in the aisle, and a barbed-wire tattoo guy at the window. She kept offering Alex the aisle seat for his long legs, and he finally got irritated and said this quote deadpan to her, which made her laugh hysterically. Poor guy with the barbed-wire tattoo.

“Yes” The universal answer to any question you ask in India.
Is this made of solid gold? Does this cab go to Texas? All of these questions will conveniently be answered “yes!”

“Our people are the filthiest on earth!” Guy from a shop in Jodhpur.
Apparently, an OK way to start a conversation is to yell this to tourists across the road.

“What’s the point?” Travel agent.
In response to our talking about getting altitude sickness in Leh.

“Jesus is lord, Jesus is lord.” British tourist.
After visiting monasteries in Leh, she said she counteracted “all that” by repeating this phrase to herself.

“Great job” Sarah. About everything, usually sarcastically. As in, Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job.

“You can’t build up a tolerance to amoebas, dude!” Alex.
One of our classmates bragged he’d been building up a tolerance to the tap water—brushing his teeth with it, drinking a little teaspoon here and there.

“Those monkeys totally could have had their way with us.” Alex.
Quoted in Sarah’s blog.

“This is so awesome. India is so fucked up.” Alex
Quoted in Sarah’s blog.

“So elegant. So, so elegant!” our professor, snapping picture after picture with his disposable camera of everyone in their Indian suits.

“Deer garden? Like where they grow deer?” Carrie.

“Shit show.” Jenny.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Alex, about the above quote.

“Love thy neighbor, but not while driving.” “Be gentle on my curves.” Road signs in Leh.

“Full Full Full Masala” Battery ad in Varanasi.

“Exhibition cum Sale” Sign in Mussoorie, and a few other places. Gross!

“Do you think it’s like a fountain show?” Carrie, about above, at 6am.

“Educate yourself!” Forestry expert, asking if Carrie knew the origin of the word Hindu and Indus River.

“Your thank-yous are too heavy for us.” Sunny, our guilt-ridden scam artist.

“[I’m sorry I tried to scam you out of thousands, but] you didn’t even tell me happy birthday!” Sunny, contrite but confused about the concept.

“Did you have the sexes?” Some of our scam artists, and their odd turns-of-phrase.

“Whatcha doing?” A wide-eyed Sarah and Carrie, asking Shlomi, our Israeli seatmate at the airport, about what turned out to be a prayer cycle of some kind. It involved wrapping his arms with leather attached to boxes, and tying one on his forehead. Neither of us had ever, ever seen this.

“We can get by without toothpaste, right?” Sarah and Carrie, realizing neither of them had toothpaste or deodorant for 4 days.

“[Dani, a blonde girl] looks like an old man with her hair. And Sarah should wear more sunscreen so she won’t get more freckles. I like my skin color.” R, young and rude.

“It’s like everything I put in my mouth is the best thing I’ve ever tasted!” Carrie.

At the five star hotel dinner in Mussoorie.

“She’s clumsy.” Jenny.
Explaining why Sarah fell, in the manner of explaining that someone is mentally retarded.

“Do your have spare breakfast?” Security agent at the airport in Leh.
Turned out she was asking if we had spare batteries, which we couldn’t take on the plane. But breakfast made just as much sense to us at 5am.

“I didn’t know I could do that!” Alex.
After doing some amazing sand dune aerial roundoff. Pretty much sums up Alex.

“That’s some real man-on-man love there.” Sarah.
The men here don’t seem to have the homophobia we have in the states, maybe from not believing homosexuals exist. But they are very comfortable holding hands and riding four to a motorcycle and things. Sarah said this about a man sitting on another man’s lap.

communications breakdown

Here in India, it seems perfectly acceptable to hang up on a person if you can't understand them. For instance, I've been hung up on or otherwise ignored twice today. But it's OK, see, because it works both ways. I get a lot of wrong numbers on my mobile, and I just have to say "Hello, hello? Do you speak English?" pause "If you don't speak English, then you have the wrong number!" pause "OK, bye, nice to talk to you!" What gets annoying is that I can have this conversation four times in a row with the same person, for instance, at 6am. And they just keep calling back. I wonder what they're saying to me. "I know you can't understand me, but I have a dire warning about the future!" Yikes! That's all I can think of that would make them dial the same non-Hindi-speaking number four times in a row at 7am.

Another thing about the phone here is no one says goodbye. I keep saying "Bye!" and feeling like a total tool! And yet one more thing about phones is it's OK pretty much at any time to answer them. You can be in a meeting with the president, and if your phone rings, she will understand that you have to answer it right then and there. Maybe this is because voicemail is a commodity here? I don't know. But these things that would be rude elsewhere are not here.

That little update about phone etiquette in India should be a clue that I've been on the phone most of today. I have, and finally, in the last hour, I accomplished a few things. So I'm going to get back to it to hopefully accomplish a few more things.