Chennai, India

Namaste! Once again, I'm sitting on deck six trying to write this
email, only this time, I honestly have no idea how to write it. I
don't even know where to write it, actually. In the last five minutes,
I've moved spots four times trying to find the place where I can most
easily reflect on the last five days. India is just such an amazing
sensory overload that I don't even know where to begin. I guess I'll
try the beginning.
We pulled into India just around sunrise to see what was definitely
the least spectacular view of the five ports we've been to. The sky
was completely overcast, due to clouds or pollution, or both. The port
that we pulled into was clearly not used to seeing passenger vessels.
Cranes and industrial ships lined the area. We docked in an area that
was filled with rows and rows of the new $2500 car made by Tata, being
held there before they were sold. That morning, I didn't have time to
get off the ship in Chennai before leaving for my overnight trip to
the Taj Mahal and Jaipur. We loaded onto the bus, which was infested
with mosquitoes, and drove the hour or so to the airport. Even on the
drive, there was so much to see. Cows, goats, pigs, dogs and chickens
were walking freely through the streets, eating whatever garbage they
could find, and they didn't have to look very hard. Piles of garbage
filled areas around homes with small children playing barefoot in the
area. These houses that we first saw looked similar to many of the
homes I had seen in the South African townships. They were small and
had been put together with whatever the residents could find, but the
people looked more downtrodden than those in South Africa. It may have
been the presence of more elderly people, whom I did not see in the
townships, but I noticed more people who simply looked exhausted and
beaten by life sitting by the roads. When we finally arrived, the
airport itself was an experience. First of all, no liquids whatsoever
were allowed on the plane so we had to check any small bottles that we
had. At the security line, they frisked everyone who went through and
there was a separate line for men and women, but the line for women
was behind a curtain (yet there were advertisements for "gentlemen's
magazines" right across the way, I guess India really is the land of
contradictions). On the plane, I sat next to a man from Chennai who
told me all about India for the two and a half hour plane ride to
Delhi. He told me how Indians, at least from his experiences, don't
have any negative attitudes towards Americans, because American
companies have been a huge contributor to helping the Indian economy,
he let me listen to his Ipod that had the soundtrack from the huge
Bollywood hit, Om Shanti Om, and he told me that when I came back to
India, I had to spend a week in the north and a week in the south and
that anything less was not enough time. After five days in the north
and south combined, I completely agree. We landed in Delhi and ate a
huge Indian dinner at the hotel, with music and the world's best ice
cream, before going to our two-room suite with two flat screen TVs.
The hotel was nice, however we all agreed that it was hard to enjoy it
while we knew that people were sleeping on the street almost right
outside.
The next morning we woke up at 4am and drove to the train station for
a two-hour ride to Agra, and the Taj Mahal. Even at about 5 in the
morning, this train station was utter mayhem. We had to cross the
street, which is not an easy task as there are literally no lanes, and
very few traffic laws. Cars constantly are honking to let other cars
and motorbikes know that they are in the area. If any of us were tired
before this little experience, we definitely were awake once we made
it across. Inside the station were hundreds of people waiting for
trains, sleeping on the ground, begging for money, and staring at the
seventy American students who had just walked in. It was still dark
when we boarded the train, but an hour or so into the trip, the sun
began to rise and we once again saw poverty levels that I have never
seen before. The first houses we saw were similar to what I've seen in
past countries. I remembered how shocked I was to see these levels of
poverty in the past, but as the train progressed, it seemed as though
it just got worse. First, we saw township-like houses, then straw
huts, then people sleeping under tarps and finally, people who had
laid mats out on the street and were sleeping there. The people were
just starting to wake up and small children were sleepily tottering
around outside of their meager living arrangements. I kept thinking,
"No one should have to live like this." It just seems so unfair.
We pulled up to another train station, one that we were not stopping
at, and once again, there were people sitting to watch the train pull
up. Cows were walking around this station, eating off of the floor.
The next stop was Agra, where we, once again, got off and pushed our
way through the masses of people.
After we stopped for breakfast at a hotel we headed to the Taj Mahal.
We had to walk down a long street where cars were not allowed where
men and children tried to sell us small souvenirs. "Yes madam, very
good price. Maybe later?" they would say as we walked through trying
to look away from the poverty and deformity of some of these people.
It wasn't that we didn't care, because some of these people were
heartbreaking, it was just that if we showed any interest, even a
polite "No thank you," we would be followed all the way down the
street with the people consistently chattering about their product. We
finally made it to the entrance to the Taj Mahal. We walked through
one of the three red palace buildings that surround the Taj before we
caught our first sight. The long walk from the bus through the red
building increased our anticipation, but what we saw before us was so
much better than any photograph or image we had seen or could imagine.
It was like a scene from a movie where the clouds part and a light
shines down and an angelic "aaaaaahhhh" is sounded. Most photos don't
depict the intricacies of the Taj Mahal. It has precious stones inlaid
into the marble around the arches and Sanskrit writing around the
doors. There are floral carvings as well as other designs in the walls
and around the base and when the sun shines through it at sunrise and
sunset, the marble becomes translucent so that the building appears to
glow. Because it was built by a Moguls, it has both Muslim and Hindu
features. The dome shape of the building is of Islamic influence,
however the Sanskrit and floral patterns pays tribute to Hinduism. The
inlaid stones were handmade by one family and their ancestors are
still making and selling pieces of this marble today. All visitors
must take off their shoes before entering, and it felt so incredible
to walk barefoot on the marble floors. One of my favorite aspects of
my Taj Mahal visit was that it wasn't just European and American
tourists, like a few of the other forts and palaces we visited. The
majority of the visitors were Indians of all different levels of
wealth. The women's saris and the people paying tribute to this
amazing place made the experiences so much more colorful, memorable
and moving than it would have been if there had been people with
similar backgrounds and viewpoints to mine. After doing a small photo
shoot at the Taj Mahal, we visited several other landmarks, including
the red fort, which has beautiful carvings and architecture as well,
except that it is not anywhere near as well known as the Taj. We
decided that if these sites that we visited were in Europe, they would
be just as famous and visited, if not more so, as something like
Versailles.
After visiting several more sites in Agra, we took a six hour bus
ride to Jaipur, the Pink City. We ate dinner that night at 10 pm,
which actually isn't that unusual for Indians. In Chennai, many of the
restaurants did not open for dinner until 7:30 as people traditionally
eat around 8 or 9 pm.
Jaipur is a city of palaces. It is called the pink city because the
first Maharaja created his castle out of a pink sandstone and declared
that all other buildings had to be made of the same stone. To this
day, it is illegal to paint or build a building any other color but
this "pink," which actually looks more like a rusted red. The heart of
the city containing these pink buildings is only about one street
long. It begins with an arch, and the moment we passed through that
arch, we knew that we were in a place like nowhere we had ever seen.
The reddish pink buildings rose up from the pavement, which was
swarming with people on bicycles, rickshaws, motorbikes and a few
cars. The street was literally packed with people, I'm not sure how
our bus maneuvered through the crown. On the sidewalks were shops
displaying colorful saris, silks and scarves. Vendors sold food from
the road and people, both wealthy and very poor mulled around doing
their daily biddings. It was just like everything I imagined India
would be, plus what I never could have imagined.
Our third morning, we left at about 7 am for the palace. We rode
painted elephants up to the palace entrance, which was a fun
experience, but something I'm not sure that I would ever do again
because the elephants clearly are not treated very well. They used to
carry four people up the hill many times each day. Now they are only
allowed to carry two 4-5 times a day, but it seemed like they were
taking many more trips than that. Their "masters," as they were
called, carried sharp metal sticks and many of the elephants had scars
on their heads from being hit and prodded. It was sad to see such
beautiful animals being treated like that, but I hope that their
situation is better than what I perceived.
The palace was beautiful with more inlaid stones and small mirrors in
the stone to reflect light, creating a shimmering effect. When we were
in one of the museum sections of the palace, the emperor of Jaipur,
who still lives at the palace, came in and we were able to take a
group picture with him.
Peasants who had been employed to work there, were laboriously
digging up and replacing the old stones. Women carried water in large
bowls on their heads before kneeling to help the men with the
construction. It was very interesting to see women doing such hard
labor in their elegant looking saris. When I tried one on, I could
barely walk without tripping over my own feet, let alone do
landscaping. All over the countryside we witnessed this trend of women
dressed beautifully, but doing strenuous labor.
On the subject of women, we were warned that we would notice a lack
of women in India and a surplus of men, but I didn't realize how eerie
it would be to witness so many missing women. For many decades,
females have been the victims of infanticide because they are seen as
more of a burden to people, especially the poor. It is traditionally
the duty of the men to take care of the parents when they are older
and girls came with the future price of dowry when they married,
before it was officially outlawed (although it is still practiced in
many areas). When a boy is born it is a big celebration and the
husband is very appreciative of his wife, but this is not the case
with a girl. Today, this practice of female infanticide still occurs
as well as abortion of female fetuses. In fact, today ultrasounds to
find out the sex of the baby are illegal because they can lead to
female fetus abortion.
India is a beautiful, yet heartbreaking country. There is so much
contradiction. Mansions are built next door to people who have
nothing. The industry is booming, yet so many people in the rural
areas get no support from the government and no benefits from
international business. We sat in air-conditioned buses while mothers,
no older than us, held their baby in their arms and mimicked the act
of feeding him food because she could not get food for herself or her
child any other way than begging. The most heartbreaking incident
occurred as we were stopped at a stoplight, a girl, younger than me
cried outside our window as she was held her child. These were not
tears to provoke sympathy, but real, desperate tears, and there was
nothing that we could do because we were told not to give anyone
anything because if we did, the bus would be swarmed with people, and
they would be in danger of being hurt by the bus. Another mother
showed us that her daughter had an enormous tumor on the back of her
head, and there was clearly nothing that she could do about it. It
made me feel so helpless to see this girl, who would never live to see
the things that I am getting to see, and there was little that she
could do because the country doesn't have enough medical support to
help the people who have nothing.
That night, after seeing and experiences so many amazing things, we
climbed back on the bus at 1:30 am to drive the six hours back to
Delhi for our flight back to Chennai.
I was only in Chennai for a day and a half, but it was definitely a
memorable day and a half. The streets of Chennai are just as crazy as
the streets of Jaipur, except this time, we were on our own, not in a
large tour bus. The most common mode of transportation for those
without their own vehicles in Chennai is the auto rickshaw, a
three-wheeled yellow vehicle with a windshield, hood, two small rows
of seats (one for the driver, one for about three passengers), and a
pull-string to start it, just like a lawnmower. The thing about these
auto rickshaws is that their drivers do not want to take you where you
want to go. They are paid commission by certain stores and they will
do whatever they can to get you to stop there. They will tell you that
the place you want to go isn't opened (when you know that it is), they
will stop in front of the place, they may even kick you out of the
rickshaw. All three of these things happened to me. I took three auto
rickshaw rides and none of them were easy. The first one occurred the
afternoon that we arrived back in Chennai. Three of my friends and I
found a driver, agreed on a price and took off. He told us that the
market we wanted to go to was not open, when it was, then he tried to
pull over on the side of the road to tell us about his three children,
in order to get more money out of us. We told him he could tell us
about his children as long as he kept driving. The whole time he
laughed maniacally, so we weren't sure where we were going to end up.
We finally got to the market and he tried to get an extra 150 rupees
out of us, which we told him we were not going to do, and we left.
Rickshaw ride number two was the most memorable and stressful and
hysterical when I look back at it. We ate dinner at the Taj Cannemara
hotel in a restaurant called Rain Tree. The assistant dean and some
other professors were there so we went over to their table to say hi
after we finished eating. One of the professor's wives was there and I
began talking to her about what she had been doing. She said they had
been going around to different sites in Chennai, all by rickshaw. I
asked her if she had traveled by rickshaw at night and she said she
hadn't and she wasn't sure if it would be as safe at night. She said
since there were six of us we could get a taxi that would fit all of
us and it wouldn't be that expensive. That sounded like a great idea
so we went to the front desk of the hotel and asked if they could call
us a cab. The man called over a loud speaker for "one taxi" and we
waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, I went back over to the desk
and asked him what the taxi situation was. One thing I forgot to
mention, in between the time I asked for the first taxi and when I
went over to ask again, a torrential downpour had started. The streets
were starting to flood, there were suddenly no cars on the road, and
no taxis could be found. The man told us that there were no taxis
coming. We could see a few rickshaws outside of the gates so we ran
out into the rain to try to grab one of them. In between the twenty
feet from the overhang to the rickshaw, I was so drenched that it
looked like I had been swimming. Three girls from our group grabbed a
rickshaw and sped up and the other three of us found a driver and
followed him to his rickshaw. On the walk over there, another driver
starting yelling at the man about how he needed one of us to come with
him because he needed money for his family. We were not about to break
up, but our driver just kept sitting there, listening to him. We kept
telling him, "Madras Harbor, just go, Madras Harbor!" Finally, he
started the rickshaw. It's still pouring rain and cars are going by us
completely splashing us and the mostly open-air rickshaw. Our
windshield was fogged up and had no windshield wipers. The horn was
literally a squeaker that the driver had to squeeze by hand to make
noise. We were driving at about half the speed of the other cars on
the road and the driver is having to wipe off the windshield by hand
just to see. He turns around to us and says "Harbor, ship" with the
little English that he knew, and we said, "yes, yes to the ship." He
seemed like he understood and kept driving. Finally, he points across
the road and says, "Harbor." He is pointing to a gas station, on the
opposite side of the chaotic traffic. Behind the gas station is a
large concrete wall, and on the other side of the wall is clearly the
harbor, but there is no way for us to get there. He makes a u-turn and
pulls in front of the gas station and says once again, "Harbor"
expecting us to be satisfied, get out and pay him. I tell him, "No we
need to go to the front gate of the harbor." He doesn't seem to
understand this, but another man sees that he is confused and that we
clearly are not Indian passengers and tries to explain to him in Tamil
where we need to go. Now, one thing I forgot to mention, this was our
first time getting back to the ship without a tour bus, so we honestly
have no idea what the front gate looks like or where it is, so I just
kept repeating, "We need to go to the front gate," hoping that he
knows where it is. He turns back into traffic after the man told him
what to do and drives back the way we are originally going. I ask him
several times if he knows where we are going now, and he assures me
that he does, although I'm not sure he understood what I was saying.
So we keep driving, and we see the ship…and then we pass the ship. We
start saying that we need to go back the other way, towards the ship.
The driver seems to understand this, but we've gotten to a fork in the
road and there's no place to make a u-turn. He pulls under an
underpass and begins to drive there, thinking that this was the way to
the ship. Under this bridge were sheep and we almost hit a cow, before
he turned around and snuck back into traffic somehow, I'm not sure
how, but somehow, we were back heading toward the ship. We see a taxi
full of Semester at Sea kids pull into an area with a gate leading to
the harbor. This wasn't the same gate that we left from, but we
figured it was good enough. We paid the driver and he drove away and
we figured we were finally going to get back to the ship.
It wasn't that easy.
We notice that the people in front of us are arguing with men at the
gate about something. We weren't sure exactly what, but some sort of
high stress situation was occurring. We find out that in order to get
back into this gate, you had to have signed out at the gate and
written down your passport number. Clearly we had not done either of
these things and apparently the kids in front of us had, but they
couldn't find their names on the list. We sat back while they talked
to the guards, because we knew there was no way we would convince them
that we had been through here. Finally, they found someone's name that
they had left with, and signed her name. Meanwhile, we went back to
the area where they were letting workers in, showed our ID card and
landing pass and insisted that we had signed in and that the other
guards had said it was ok (which they didn't but we didn't care
because we were finally inside!). We walked the ten-minute walk from
the gate, through the industrial yard, with industrial workers, to the
ship before finally walking inside and sighing a breath of relief that
we had made it. I actually felt really empowered that I had
successfully dealt with a high-stress situation in a very foreign
country and had made it back alive! The third and final rickshaw ride
was nowhere near as exciting as that one, but I promised you three
rickshaw stories, so here it is. The first four days, all of my
friends and I had been on separate trips so we had not seen each other
in awhile and had not been able to travel together in India yet. We
decided to go to another market, one that was considered more Indian
and less touristy. Libby, Caleb and Katrina had not been in a rickshaw
yet so I told them they had to try it. Even though there were four of
us, including one pretty big guy, we climbed into the back seat and I
sat on Libby's and Katrina's lap. I realized that I didn't feel
comfortable with that and was done risking my life in rickshaws, so I
asked the driver if I could sit up front. He pulled over so that I
could switch seats and I sat in the front seat. Now, the front seat is
not exactly as spacious as the back, it's really only made for one
person, and I felt like I was about to slide out the side of the
vehicle, so I'm gripping the handle bar and telling my friends to hold
onto me so that I don't fly out as the rickshaw zigzags in and out of
traffic. Then, all of a sudden he pulls over and says "T Nagar (our
destination) is closed." I had dealt with this already so I told him
that we wanted to go to T Nagar and even if he thought that it was
closed, we still would like to be taken there otherwise we would not
pay him. He told me again that T Nagar was closed and that he would
take us to some other shops. Again, I told him, "No, we are only going
to T Nagar, nowhere else." Then, in an unexpected move, he tells us to
get out of the rickshaw, that we can find another one, because he is
not going to T Nagar. We were shocked and baffled, and didn't really
know what to do, so we just got out and walked the ten minutes back to
the gate where we found a taxi who could safely fit all four of us. It
ended up working out for the best because he waited for us everywhere
we went and drove us around the city. If he hadn't, I probably would
have had more strange and crazy rickshaw stories for you, but part if
me is glad that I don't.
India was an experience, an experience that I recommend to everyone
because it will teach you a lot about yourself. I know that I can
never completely describe it in words. Just ask my mom what I sounded
like after my first day there. I could barely get a sentence out
because I didn't know what to say. It's the strangest emotion, because
I feel like it's bottled up inside me, but I want to get it out and
express everything, but I don't know how, or where to start. This
email took me all day to write because I didn't know how to describe
everything that I saw, and I'm still not sure that I did a great job
describing it. India is just something to be experienced. The color,
the poverty, the wealth, the stress, the food, the dirt (which I'm
still trying to get off me), the smell, everything is a completely
life-changing, wonderful, heart-breaking, messy life experience.

Oh, and my stomach is fine. So far!

Also, I know I never sent out a mass sea Olympic email, but for those
of you who are interested…we lost. Big time. There were nine seas, one
of which was the Silver Sea (faculty, staff and life-long learners,
who are mostly retired people who are paying to be on the trip) and we
came in ninth. Apparently though it doesn't mean that we are the last
to get off the ship in Miami. The Baltic Sea, which is made up of the
cabins right next to my sea, won the Olympics, so a lot of my friends
will be waving to me from land as they disembark. Oh well, it was one
of the most enjoyable days on the ship so far