US, US, baby

Honestly. My friends continue to astound me. Really…how more wonderful can they/you be?

Not only was I feelin’ all loved and remembered by the messages last Saturday/Sunday…then I go and have a friend offer to send me a DVD of the MU/kU game…and the upcoming Big 12 Championship as well. And then yesterday another friend offers to loan me money for my last two months of travel.

I’ve taken up friend #1 on the offer, but I told friend #2, I should be OK. But really, where do I find these amazing people? Well, actually, it was in a 1999 Scholars in Journalism class and a diner in Manhattan. But that’s not really the point.

I can now officially call myself an international writer.

OK, so I have to say that seeing Om Shanti Om (or OSO as it is often referred) has really made me think.

First off, the biggest upset to me is that the director, writer, and choreographer is a woman. How is it that India, a country known for its male-dominated society, can still have a woman’s film be the year’s biggest hit and the US can’t? Now don’t get me wrong, I realize Bollywood isn’t all flush with women directors or the US doesn’t have quality ones…but I guess what puzzles me most isn’t the quality at all. It’s the money. Indians are shelling out millions of rupees to see something that is nearly all a woman’s point of view…when has that happened in America? I mean, not even our dear-to-our-hearts Sex and the City is a full woman-run show/movie.

Secondly, I have to say that the movie’s gratuitious beefcake scenes are a bit bothersome to me. Sex scenes don’t bother me. Nor does nudity. But putting LOOOOONG scenes into a movie that do absolutely nothing to move the plot along but are only there for viewers to ogle the actor/actress, just aren’t comforting to watch. And when PDA (public displays of affection) are a huge no-no on the streets or in the movies because of the sexual implications, how can you tell me that the extended scenes of a shirtless, muscle-y guy, throwing water over himself aren’t sexual? Really now.

Finally, I’m a bit confused by the Bollywood movies’ portrayal of love and passion. Every movie has a love story. But I can’t figure out why. Not to be cynical or stereotypical, but I have never heard an Indian (here or of my Indian-American friends) speak about love in any manner near the same way the movies portray. Things are always far more logical. So I’m wondering…is the society repressing this idea of love that everyone truly wants? Or is it western society and our ideas of love influencing the plots of Bollywood? Or are the movies representing a shift in Indian society’s view of marriage and love? I have to say, it’s probably a bit of all three. As I’ve learned, people pay to see a reflection of themselves; they want to connect with what they read, hear, or see. And, so I’d say Indians really MUST believe in love. But just can’t show it.

Other random things to note about the movie:
1. I understood pretty much the whole thing…which is a pretty good feat considering it’s not in English (but does have some English phrases like “Who’s your daddy?” and “I’m saying I’m pregnant” for times when I guess saying the equivalent in Hindi just doesn’t have the same effect).
2. There was a LOT of cat-calling when a pretty girl would appear on screen. The only reason I note this is because in Shillong, I have NEVER felt disrespected as a woman, nor have I seen any public leering of other women. I wonder what it is about being in a theater that suddenly makes the men feel comfortable doing it…
3. I wonder how much Maybeline paid for their sponsorship of the movie. They were noted in the opening credits, and one scene was a big makeover scene using all their products, with nice long shots of each.

Life is of course better after the last self-pitying post. In fact, I’d say I had a pretty fabulous weekend.

So what did I do this weekend? Well, here are the Top 10 highlights…(all thumbnail photos can be clicked on for the full-size version, too…)

Friday Morning
1. sprained my ankle-I am a complete clutz and honestly cannot do anything else while walking. I was trying to read a billboard, but unbeknownst to me, the sidewalk ended. But I didn’t. A good 2-3 stair drop later, and my bad ankle (old basketball injury) was in the worst pain I’d had in years. As I’m crawling — literally — toward the rock wall, I look up to see two older men just staring at me. They’d clearly seen me fall but offered no help or questioned if I was OK. Heck, they weren’t even laughing. But nevertheless still staring! Completely annoyed at them, I’d nearly collapsed against the wall when three college students rushed up to see if I was OK. They carried my bags and helped me back to the office. Yeah for friendly young’uns! Oh, yeah, and I also got to try some local Khasi home remedies on the ol’ ankle too. Did they help? Well, the pic above is taken the next day, and you can still see a bit of swelling, but the pain was gone. Either way, though, local meds are always fun!

Saturday Morning
2. computer came back to life-After a run-in with a local software guy, the computer had been worse last week, and I feared his self-implosion. And a way-too-long Thanksgiving Day conversation/search with the family turned up no disc that I needed to save him. Luckily my Yankee ingenuity and the old computer science guy at the office were able to figure out how to get Sonny back up and running. Yeah, so we’re friends again. And I can upload pictures on him for the first time in a month…including this fun one from a “sacred forest” last weekend.

Saturday Afternoon
3. ate a Khasi lunch-We went to the team leader’s house for lunch. Her mother had made a traditional lunch in memory of her mother’s death. Such yum food!

Saturday Evening
4. picked up my salwar suit-After choosing the cotton material last week and taking it to a tailor, my first Indian outfit is ready for the workshops this week. Yeah!*
5. ate dinner at a photographer’s house and found out what my name means-His mother made a delicious Muslim-Indian spread for a group from Impulse. And if you’re thinking my plate looks a little sparse in the pic, don’t worry. This is only my first serving of three. While eating, I also found out why so many Indians pronounce my name “Jana.” Apparently my name is a term from Persia or the Middle East that is frequently used in India now and pronounced that way. And Jayna actually means horrible foot rot. Just kidding. It is a term of endearment that means “my precious one” or “beloved.” Aw…sweet, no?

Sunday Morning
6. woke up by 7:34 a.m. phone call-If you know, me, you’ll know that any phone call that wakes me up is usually NOT a highlight. BUT this call was to tell me that the Tigers were up 14-0. Definitely worth waking up for. Thanks, Hez. And right after we hung up I got a text with the half-time score (still 14-0), too. Thanks, sis.
7. checked my e-mail-The Internet is MIA at the office since Wednesday, and there is only one cyber cafe I’ve been able to find in this city that opens before 10 or 11. But at that one, I got to check my e-mail and get the e-mails, drunk Blackberry messages, and ususbaby comments with game updates and messages that people back home were thinking of me. Yeah! It is honestly so nice to feel loved and remembered while I’m away. Especially when it’s for things like Tiger football and hot dogs. Thanks y’all.
8. the Tigers won-Of course the whole reason I went to the cafe so early was to check the MU-kU score updates. I nearly beat my head against the wall refreshing Yahoo! sports in the game’s last 20 seconds. But Missouri came away with the win. And if you’re wondering what I’m doing in the picture…obviously, it’s after the game, and I’m listening to the Missouri Waltz on my iPod at the cyber cafe. Obviously.
9. saw my first in-theater Bollywood movie-Om Shanti Om isn’t just any Bollywood movie, either. It’s the country’s biggest seller of the year. Things to note about the theater: the entrance fee was Rs. 30 (about $.75 USD); a Kit Kat and sour cream and onion chips were Rs. 15 (about $.38 USD); people smoke inside; and people spit betel juice on the floor. Things to note about the movie: it has great music (will be buying the soundtrack soon); the leading woman is drop-dead gorgeous and new to the Bollywood scene; the bad guy is just as hot and apparently a famous model; but the leading man is — I’m sure a wonderful person but — a bit of a butter face but a good dancer.**

Sunday Afternoon
10. watched traditional Indian dancing-This dance performer wasn’t doing dances traditional to this area but from the mainland. I’m up in the air on whether or not I liked it. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed going to the performance and seeing something different. But would I want to watch it over and over? I’m not sure. But, he did have a tough act to follow coming after the Bollywood blockbuster and all.

*Pics and more outfits will be coming, I’m sure.
**Stay tuned for more on the movie.

Oh, and although it’s not actually a part of the weekend…the Tigers are now No. 1 in both the AP and BCS. Grrr! Yeah, I’d say that’s definitely a highlight of the year.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Ugh. What am I doing on my favorite holiday? Sitting in a smokey Internet cafe that’s playing 80s rock. NOT preparing a turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, and apple pie…what I love doing and have been doing (or helping do) every Thanksgiving since I was like 5. I mean, I even got to do it when I was stuck in LA and was sharing it with others than my own family. Why am I still not doing it here, then, you ask? Well, for starters, they don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here. Obviously. But I can’t even spread my own holiday cheer as
1) they don’t have turkeys
2) they don’t have ovens
So making anything but mashed potatoes and gravy is impossible.

But being out of America for Thanksgiving isn’t the only thing that’s making me miss the good ol’ US of A. No. I also know I’m going to be missing my birthday and Christmas, both days of which are meant to be spent with friends and family (and if you’re like me and plan them right, you can even spend half the day with the special people of the East Coast or Midwest and the other half with the wonderful people of LA). Don’t get me wrong. I’ve made friends here, and the others at the NGO have been wonderful about opening up their homes and families to me. But, you know, it’s just not the same. As much as I hate winter, I love this time of year in the US because of the time with my close friends and family.

Besides missing my friends and family, though, I’m also missing my computer discs, which, too, are in Missouri. Somewhere in the 11 boxes of stuff I shipped to my parents’ house are the discs that I need to keep my computer from committing suicide.

Then, there’s also the fact that I don’t feel much like a traveler anymore. Not only am I seeing much less of this area than I did of others, but with my savings quickly dwindling, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay on the road for the last two months of my planned year away, so I don’t have that feeling of looking forward to the next place that had been propelling me forward when I’d get homesick or lonely before.

And couple all of this with Missouri football, and I could literally cry. Honestly. When I was checking the scores/BCS standings/AP rankings after last weekend’s games I got completely misty eyed. Four months ago, who the eff thought Missouri and “BCS title game” would be breathed in the same sentence? But after last week’s upsets, it’s a definite possibility. And missing the big game against kansas this weekend, is literally killing me. I mean, I can’t even watch the game anywhere here, and the Internet cafe doesn’t open until probably the third or fourth quarter, so not even Gametracker is an option. Grr!!!

And honestly, what could be better than playing in the BCS title game? Keeping kansas out, of course. And is it bad that I’ve even considered not keeping my “you can’t live off your parents’ money” savings (what should be my first couple of months’ rent and living money) and spending it on tickets to New Orleans and a game ticket if the Tigers were to play on Jan. 7? Probably, huh?

So, yeah, I’m definitely hoping to get/expecting calls/text messages sent from Arrowhead Stadium (or your living rooms if you’re out of MO), with updates on Saturday night/Sunday morning.

Sigh.

Planning my trip to Korea, my American friend wanted to know the dates I’d be staying at her apartment, so she could let her weekly house cleaner know. As soon as she sent off that e-mail, she sent another saying how weird she felt writing about a house cleaner and that she hoped I didn’t think she was being snobby.

Of course I didn’t, but her nervousness is pretty representative of middle-class, middle America (but in her case, Hawaii)…the places where housekeepers and nannies aren’t common. Where stay-at-home moms are really stay-at-home moms and don’t also hire a housekeeper, nanny, and a chef to assist them.

But I knew that wasn’t the case everywhere. The East and West Coasts, as well as many places in the South have middle-class neighborhoods where every house has a cleaner and nanny. And I knew that domestic workers in Asia were pretty common too.

However, I guess I’ve not really experienced it first-hand so much until my arrival here in India. As the office is providing my room and a living stipend, they also take care of so much more for me. Honestly, I do nothing for myself. There are girls who manage the office and wash all the dishes as well as cook any foods we might request (and who are mighty good cooks, I should add). There are two women who come every Monday to do the laundry and clean up the bathrooms. There are even two girls who come every day between 11:30 and 1 to serve us piping-hot morning tea…and then come back at around 4 to collect those dirty cups and pour us more hot tea in fresh cups.

Part of me wants to feel bad that these women/girls must do domestic service for the classes above them. But the other part of me knows that the city is swelled with people who aren’t working but had to come here because it is one of the few “safe” cities in the North East; so hiring these women/girls means they’re able to make a living away from the violence that is prevalent in many other places.

And then the other part of me is just happy that I can be lazy about cleaning up after myself. While becoming addicted to tea in the meantime.

For lucky #13 gratuitious-photo post, I was at (as I’m sure you can read) Cherrapunjee, the old “Rainiest Place on Earth.” For years now, the actual rainiest-place has been in another nearby city, but that city hasn’t seemed as eager to claim the title, so Cherapunjee still touts itself as said place.

I went on a tour of the “city”…which is gorgeous even in the dry season. Lots of mountains, a few waterfalls (of course there are way more during the monsoon season), and plenty of goats. And on a clear day, you can even see Bangladesh (in the picture of the bridge, it’s the flat area past the treeline).

Hopefully, I’ll get to see more places around Shillong as the weeks go on…

So as the Hindus were wrapping up their Diwali Festival, one of the local church grounds held its own festival: The Wine Festival (gotta love the Catholics!).

It’s a one-day event each year where local winemakers come and sell their whole lot of stock. Reading about it in the paper, I was stoked to go…not only is wine/alcohol not so popular in India (as many Hindus apparently think of it as a no-no), thus I knew there would be few other wine festivals in this country, but I thought it would be a great way to support the local peeps as well.

Although the for-sale wines were what some might argue (people in the EU right now are) aren’t actually wines…by that I mean, they’re not made of grapes, I was still super excited to try them. The paper announcement said there’d be berry wines, including strawberry ones. Why was that exciting to me? Well, because ever since I heard Deana Carter’s “Strawberry Wine,” I’ve been wanting to try some. However, I doubted anyone else at the festival would make that country-song connection, but…

The festival kicked off at the church around noon. My desk at the time was right by the window, and I could hear it start up…music was blaring away. The strange thing was…I KNEW the songs. Like uncannily well. They were playing Bryan White’s “Someone Else’s Star.” For those who don’t know it, it’s a song from a 90s country album made by an almost-mullet-wearing kid. Then came Credence Clearwater Revival. When I said something to one of the girls in the office, she said that country music was really popular here. Particularly Bonnie Raitt and John Denver. What??? SO not what I expected from India…even the Christian part!

But back to the wine…a few of us went over to peruse the selection. Most of the local wines were made from a blackberry. But there were also ones made of strawberry, ginger, pineapple, banana, pear, and just about any other fruit you’d find in the North East.

They were all these mom-and-pop kind of operations, but it was great fun talking to the vendors as well. When the young woman at the “Mummy’s” stall was asked why their wine was so cheap compared to the other ones on sale, she said, “It’s just homemade stuff. I mean, it comes from the pears in our backyard!”

But backyard or not…I still bought a couple of the small bottles. God bless the Christian festivals.

Last week there were a couple of American recent college-grads hanging around the office. They were here doing research and stayed late a couple of nights. On one such occassion they were heading out to dinner, but the guy wasn’t feeling so great. I offered a snack to hold them over until they got to the restaurant, “I don’t have much. Noodles, popcorn, or PBJ on crackers.”

They excitedly took me up on my PBJ (peanut butter and jelly) and crackers offer, asking, “Did you bring the peanut butter with you?” Uh, definitely not. The bag doesn’t really have so much space for “food.” But the people at Impulse had shown me around the city, including a grocery store that stocks imported foods (which is where I bought some $7 Ragu sauce); the peanut butter, though, was actually made in India. It’s just not available everywhere — although it is available in a few brands and either crunchy or creamy. They’ve also got foreign jellies…but I opted for the Meghalaya-made jam.

Unfortunately, though, none of that mattered when we got to the kitchen. I’d apparently eaten all the crackers. “That’s OK,” said the girl, “can we just have a scoop of peanut butter?” It’s funny how much peanut butter is a comfort food for Americans.

While the two Americans each took heaping spoonfuls of the crunchy brown goo, their Indian friend did as well. We soon learned it was his first time having peanut butter.

As soon as he told us that, I had a memory of my first year of teaching and another time of indoctrinating others into trying a new food. When the time came to teach the unit on compare-and-contrast essays, I brought in hummus (which I knew few students had tried before) and peanut butter for them to eat and then compare and contrast. After the day was over, I plopped down my teaching bag in the assistant principal’s office while I waited for him to stop dealing with all the crazy 7th graders hanging around. A fellow teacher saw my ajar bag and asked what food I’d brought. “Oh, I brought hummus and penis butter for the kids to compare and contrast.” Realizing I’d said something not quite, right, I tried to figure out what I’d said by asking my self (out loud), “Did I just say hummus and penis butter?”

Yeah…the 7th grade boys loved hearing that.

OK, so I have to admit, I didn’t take a huge variety of pictures of the festival…but how about a video? It’s short (about 15 seconds) and unedited, but it can give you a pretty good feel of the decorations at Police Bazaar that night. (And I promise lots of pics of later festivals!)

BUT…here’s a picture of the pizza I had that night. Although it’s quite unlike any pizza I’ve had before (and not just in America, either) — think lots of crust and not a lot of sauce — it’s the closest I’ve come to at-a-restaurant Western food since I’ve been in India. Now THAT is something to celebrate!