Exhaustion
Typing this from a very dirty internet cafe near Tessa's house. We have finally moved into trainee houses, but we are living separately. Such a shame as we have become very close in the last few days. I feel quite sorry for her, as her room is small and her toilet ... is not a toilet as we know it. I have really been quite lucky. My room mate (Michelle) is only in Jaipur for another month and a half or so though (we think), so Tessa can come and live with me when she leaves.We are finally left alone without the AIESECers. Tessa is with me, along with Stephan (who I am working with). We plan to drop me home in an auto rickshaw, and then they will return in it to their house. We have never caught a rickshaw without an Indian accompanying us, so I wonder how much they will try to charge us. We are tough now, though - it may seem strange, but being rude has become the norm. You bargain and you shout and you ignore, and all this just to keep us sane. The only thing that I am still afraid of is crossing the road: so far, Himanshu has had to hold my hand on every occasion. How embarrassing (but how so very necessary - failure to hold Tessa's hand left her turning circles in the middle of the road).
So, having now been here for almost a week, I can now make a more accurate comment on the heat. In Delhi, I finally realised what it was that it reminded me of: a sauna. A sort of stifling, short of breath sensation. This was relatively mild though in comparison to here; the monsoon is yet to arrive in Jaipur (as Rajasthan, Jaipur's state, is desert land), which means that the sky is clear and freely allowing the sun to shine on us. It is not terrible though, as nearly everywhere inside has fans. Fans are not as good as air conditioning, but they are better than being in the sun. The few occasions that we do venture out are uncomfortable, but thankfully short. I bought some light cotton trousers in the market a few nights ago, only to wear them today and find two 2-inch diameter holes located in the crotch area. Not ideal. My denim cropped trousers were difficult yesterday, but I am proud to say that I survived the 38C heat in them. I will have to find some others soon. (I did buy two pairs of the cotton trousers, but I am wary of the second pair incase they are destined to the same doomed fate.)
My other complaint (excuse this never ending list today) is that of time in the Indian culture. I read in my guides that life passes slowly here, and that Indians never seem to be in a rush. I misunderstood this - to me, India might well have been a relaxing break away from the hustle and bustle of Oxford. However, I instead find their concept of time most infuriating. Take Himanshu. Tessa has rather amusingly decided that Himanshu and I have a love-hate relationship, finding that we resemble an old married couple. The reason for this is that he has a heart of gold but, at the same time, drives me crazy with his time keeping. He tells Tessa and I that he will return in half an hour, and takes two hours. He tells us "hurry, hurry, hurry, we must leave in eight minutes", only to infact take a further thirty minutes. (Thirty minutes is precious when you've only had five hours of sleep.) This is not unique to Himanshu though, so I cannot place all the blame on him - this culture is everywhere in India. His sister had planned to take us shopping one afternoon, but instead slept through it due to the heat, deciding that it would be better to take us in the evening. (Shops are open here until 9-10pm.) However, she had failed to tell Tessa and I this, so we stayed in Himanshu's room all day waiting for her to wake up. When she finally did, she found it most odd that we had not napped ourselves.
I must stress though that these complaints are minor. Yes, things can be tough here, but I would not wish to be home (yet). I have made a wonderful friend in Tessa, and find myself fascinated by our education project. (I have not started work yet, but we had an orientation conference this weekend as an introduction.) The other AIESECers are very friendly, although I very much wish that I had not disclosed my identity as an AIESEC member myself. (I am also involved in the running AIESEC, as opposed to being merely a participant on the exchange programme.) This tiny slip of the tongue led to a flurry of well known AIESEC jives with yours truly as the star dancer. However, it does allow for a thoroughly interesting comparison with my own local committee at home, and I find myself happily chatting away about this outstanding organisation when it would be acceptable for me to not think of it again until October. The children here (when not begging for food) are the sweetest little people I have ever seen; just today, across the road from where we were working, were a group of tiny youngsters joyfully shouting and waving at us. The food is excellent, although I still have to use two hands to tear my chapatis. (This is not, though, the wicked taboo I first thought it was.)
I start work tomorrow, so I must end this entry here. Do pray for our journey home in the auto rickshaw.
posted by ladyinpink @ 1:57 am
6 Comments:
Sam, its lovely to read your diary. Shame on you "lady's fingers" are also known as Ocra! I am chuckling at you trying to tear chapatis one handed, and admit to trying it with pitta bread. We havent succeeded yet, we disallowed Scott's effort with his teath.
Are you trying to terrify your mother, eating unpasturised ice-cream and riding on a motor bike with no helmet?
Hope you first day went well, eagerly awaiting your next installement
Love
Jan, Mike & Co
x
Acceptable for you to forget about AIESEC Oxford until October? I think not!!! :-D
Still reading avidly :-)
Hi Sam!
Glad to hear it's going well (or reasonably so)
It's 2:30am in California and I had better go to bed, but I'll email you asap!
Hope work goes well,
Daria
Sam, You have seen more in just a few days than I did in all the time I was in India!
I would have loved to have seen a photo of you on the back of Himanshu's motorbike!
Have you had a chance to show my photos to anyone yet?!
Lots of love,
Gran xx
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