Sunday, October 24, 2010

The Tourist Space -- October 21

We started class today with an interesting discussion on space and what it means in the tourist realm. As tourists our space is a tourist bubble where we are removed from the unpleasantness of life. We don't make our own beds, deal with corrupt police, argue with the phone company, or struggle with the day to day frustrations that most Indians face. Even sitting in a restaurant provides a certain level of distance from reality, as does renting a lounger on the beach, as hawkers and beggars are shooed away.

We opted to explore our space at Baga beach. It's a large and busy beach with plenty of people ready to offer massages, manicures, jewellery and sunbeds for rent. In spite of all that, we had a great time listening to the waves and walking on the beach, which we claimed as "our space."

My reflection

Being in Goa, as beautiful as it is, it's hard to avoid the constant harrassment of hawkers. Seemingly every 10 seconds I was approached by someone offering something. Sometimes they arrived in large groups, sat down in front of us, and would not leave. I often felt like I had ceased to exist as a human being but rather was transformed into a commodity to be exploited. Attempting to be respectful to the sellers (who clearly had learned from tourists before me that I was in fact there to buy all sorts of goods and services) quickly faded as my patience grew shorter as time passed. What I realized was that in the bigger picture, the behaviour of the sellers was not the problem; it was the thousands of tourists who came before me that had contributed to this conflict. As tourists we want comforts and access to goods and services, but we also want it on our terms. What we find annoying, they view as an opportunity to earn enough to feed their family for one more day. And with limited opportunities for economic prosperity for so many Indians, who can blame them?

Ahh, the beach. October 20


After 10 days in an industrialized, noisy, smoggy city of 5 million people, as students we had pretty high expectations of Goa. After a flight to Mumbai and then to Goa, we arrived to palm trees, fresh humid air, and billboards for liquor. However, life is such that if your expectations are too high, you might be disappointed. Our hotel is partially under renovations and not on the beach, so immediately it put a damper on our nirvana-like expectations. Many of us (not me) had to deal with malfunctioning toilets, power shorts and bed bugs. Add in 30 people who have been travelling together for the last two weeks and it's understandable that tensions might run a little high.

This gave us our first lesson of Goa around tempering expectations and understanding our own personal limitations in achieving our own standards of comfort. Some people's standards are simply about a clean bed and working shower, while others need high speed internet access and goose down pillows.

For me, I was a little nervous about travelling again as it has been a while since I was outside the tourist enclave as an independent traveller, moving on a budget, negotiating for every purchase. I wondered if staying in nice hotels at beach resorts where every whim was anticipated had made me soft? Through this process I've learned my preference is somewhere in between the hard core budget traveller and those seeking greater comforts. Amenities like a pool or wifi are nice, but can live without all of them as long as it's safe and I don't have to worry about a cockroach running over my head while I'm sleeping.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Gujerat, the dry state.

Tomorrow we leave for Goa, which, unlike Gujerat, is not a dry state. The look of shock on 30 students' faces upon discovering that Gujerat is completely alcohol free, was plainly obvious. For me, who admittedly enjoys a glass or two of wine rather frequently, the news came as a shock, particularly as we'd just been in the dry town of Pushkar and I was looking forward to cold glass of beer or a frosty margarita, which in my view are necessary pairings with 30-plus degree heat and a tropical vacation.

What I learned from this

This experience is as much about doing things differently as anything else. I have become accustomed to having access to certain things when I want them; clean water, safe food, and a decent bottle of California red. From the academic articles I've read on tourism, this is not unusual. Tourists want to experience "untouched" or "unspoiled" spaces, but still want wifi and hamburgers on the menu. While I thought I was not like that, perhaps I am? Admittedly, I thought the absence of alcohol would somehow take away from the overall experience and put a damper on the celebratory atmosphere, and I can't say if it did or didn't – it was what it was. It didn't diminish my experience, but it did change it. I found delicious replacements for cocktails; a lemon or mango lassi (yogurt blended with fruit and honey) and lime sodas (fresh lime, sugar, and soda). While no substitute for a good Shiraz, I found going dry involuntarily for 10 days almost a liberating experience. It allowed me to question my expectations and needs and become just a little bit closer to the Gujerati lifestyle that went beyond buying some cool comfortable Indian-style clothes and eschewing meat for a month (most Indians are vegetarians). In my own meager way, these few simple acts brought me greater understanding of Indian lifestyles, at least on the periphery.

Being the foreigner

I'm fairly used to travelling to exotic lands and being the "other," but Ahmedabad is unique. It is not a tourist destination, and our hotel was predominantly a place for Indian businessmen.  In the entire 10 days I was there, I saw one Chinese couple and one white family, both of whom were at our hotel.  As such, we were stared at wherever we went (particularly as women) and whole groups of men on the street would simply stop and stare.  Phillip, our program head, calls it "being a rock star."  We never got harrassed, only the odd "hello where you from?!"

At first, it was somewhat unnerving, but I did get used to it once I realized that being stared is more about curiosity and less about threatening behaviour. After a few days I even began to enjoy the attention of being the novelty act for a while. Upon reflection, I realized that I appreciated the attention because I'm not someone who naturally stands out in a crowd.  It felt nice to be unique.  

National Institute of Design -- October 18

This morning was our last outing in Ahmedabad as a group, to the famous National Institute of Design.  The school was founded in the 1960s by a textile merchant family, endorsed by Charles Eames, and has become the foremost centre of design training in Asia.  Some 7000 applications come in for 250 spaces within 17 disciplines from textile, furniture and housewares, to graphic design. We had a short tour of the campus, more tea, and had a talk from the current director.  What I found particularly interesting is NID's work in fostering artisan craft in remote areas for development where few other resources exist. NID is helping artisans connect to the marketplace and as such, is preserving craftwork that has been passed down through generations.  So next time you go into a shop such as Ten Thousand Villages or an Oxfam shop, look for handicrafts from Jiwaja in Rajasthan! 

Sunday, October 17, 2010

MARAG – October 14 to 16





By midday 8 students left with our MARAG representative Mona to visit the MARAG villages. MARAG works in more than 300 villages across India working on education and social issues, particularly with women and children and the Maldhari people. Maldhari's are landless pastoralists who earn their livelihood by using public lands to graze cattle. Increasingly, Maldhari's are losing their grazing land to development and industrialization.


We visited two villages the first day and a village and farm the second day. Our two days with MARAG cannot be summed up in a short blog post. We learned so much about the issues of access to education, child marriage, migratory patterns, and the Maldhari way of life. MARAG works tirelessly in these areas and over the last 15 years have really made inroads into what is traditionally a very disconnected population from the rest of society, but who are fiercely protective of their way of life. These are the marginalized of the marginalized.


After two days of being fed, chaperoned, translated, chauffeured, and taught, we met with the Director of MARAG, Laljit, who provided much more of the context of MARAG and demonstrated how they are using development communication and advocacy to drive changes in the villages. Laljit told story after story of their successes, as well as some things they'd do differently. Overall MARAG seems to be the textbook example on how to engage and act as a facilitator so those on the outskirts of society can take control and solve their own problems, on their own terms.

My reflections on this "authentic" experience

The experience of the last few days feels overwhelmingly one-sided; I feel that I am getting so much more out of this experience than I'm giving back. Perhaps it's a Canadian thing, perhaps it's a Western mindset, but as students we almost have a sense of guilt for receiving so much and giving nothing in return (though our instructors would argue that our presence alone does not go unheeded). All I can do is be intensely grateful for all the time, energy, and generosity we've received from the people who have made our experiences memorable so far.


Visiting villages in the countryside would probably be looked upon with awe by other tourists as we saw what some might consider the "real" India -- a common quest among tourists. I use that term somewhat ironically, because one of the things I learned was that authenticity is not a specific state, but a matter of degrees. Authenticity, or the "real" India, is a construct -- it's how we project our own images and ideas onto what we are observing. Are the piles of garbage on the road the real India, or is it the home cooked meal at an Indian's home? Certainly, there is a trueness of culture -- the languages spoken, the dances performed, how Indians themselves might view their culture; my only opportunity to experience this cultural authenticity is to remove all the identifiers of my identity as a tourist and Canadian. From everything from my race to how I was educated to how the fillings look in my teeth separates me from Indians. We may find plenty of common understanding over time, but when an old village woman walks straight up to me and lifts her saree to show me all the Hindi symbols tattooed up and down her arms and legs, she knew exactly what would interest me. In a sense, she was feeding into what she thought I wanted to see. After our MARAG visit, I felt a little closer to understanding village life, but realized even more how distanced I was from it.


Gujerat University– October 14

An important part of Indian culture is the welcoming of guests, which was clearly demonstrated in our visit to the students of the Masters in Development Communication program at Gujerat University.   Drums, flower petals, blessings, gifts, tea, more gifts ... we felt incredibly honoured. 

Something that struck me was the formality of it—official introductions, presentations, photographers, video, a meeting with the university's vice-chancellor.  We were even in the daily paper the following day—not a small honour considering the paper serves a population of 5 million people.  And here we just thought we'd drop by the university for a quick hello . . .   

Centre for Environment Education and Navritri Festival – October 13

The focus of our work in Ahmedabad is around development communication.  Development communication goes beyond the typical products such as brochures or websites; it's a way to engage and foster participation so the community takes control of their own development issues. Rather than top down, it's bottom up. 

Each student, before we arrived, self selected into a group to work with a specific NGO. I chose MARAG (which I'll get in to later), but before we set out with them the Centre for Environment Education (CEE) invited everyone to their offices for an overview of their work.

I wasn't sure what to expect, but what I heard from CEE challenged any lingering preconceptions I had about the sophistication of an Indian NGO.  The Indian dichotomy is almost becoming cliché; extreme poverty and the so called "undeveloped" society is very visible, yet here we were at CEE hearing from experts with multiple Masters degrees teaching us about how they use communication for development in everything from policy development at government to water issues.  CEE's director summed up their approach: "development is a thought process on solving problems. We need critical thinking and need to travel on an uncharted path."   We could learn a thing or two from them.

Our time has not been all work, however. The Navritri festival is nine nights of dancing in the state of Gujerat, honouring the goddess Durga.  Somehow we found ourselves at one of the larger events. Quite simply, I've never seen anything like it as hundreds of people performed traditional Garba dances in Navritri costumes until the wee hours.  As the only foreigners in attendance, once again we were wonderfully welcomed and the object of some curiosity, particularly from the kids.   

Ahmedabad, Gujerat state, India – October 12

Arriving in Ahmedabad was like arriving in India for the first time all over again.  While it was wonderful to see all our classmates again in situ, I couldn't help but feel somewhat disconnected from the Indian experience.  My first meditation explored this.  How was I, staying in a beautiful hotel by Western standards, with its security guards, uniformed staff, and front gates, detached from Indian society? For me it was the separation not only of space (the physical distance and lack of access to the hotel from regular society), but also the sense of privilege I felt.  I am by no means wealthy, but I can afford to spend a night or two in a posh hotel back home or have a nice dinner out.  Our hotel in Ahmedabad is rather affordable by Canadian standards (about $80 a night) but disconcerting to know that the vast majority of Indians would never be able to stay there, even on a splurge.  

While change is difficult, I seem to have increased my resilience to change as I quickly adjusted to my new environment of fluffy duvets, central air, spacious room, and hot water shower.  J

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Driving tips for India

When visiting a new place, tourists often comment on the most notable characteristics – the rain in Vancouver, the expense of London, the beauty of Paris. While India has many attributes that warrant comment, none seem as dominant as the traffic chaos.

Here are some handy tips for passengers who may be confused by the driving system. (Note that visitors attempting to drive themselves should ensure their life insurance is up to date.)

- Lane markers on roads are simply a guideline and need not be followed. As are red lights. And pretty much any other sign.

- For the most part, the largest vehicle has right of way. However, this can be confusing because camels pulling carts can be very large and I have yet to discern if this rule applies.

- Cows do not respond well (or at all) to incessant honking when they occupy the middle of the road.

- Driving is mostly on the left hand side of the road, except when they decide to drive on the right side.

- Standing in the middle of a three-lane highway, conducting some sort of business is acceptable, as is fitting your entire family on one motorcycle.

- Honking is its own language. There's the I'm-passing-you honk (quick beep), the angry honk (prolonged), the hello foreign lady honk (morse code-like beeps), and the unnecessary honk (simply because the driver is alone on the road and is missing the sound of his own horn, as its been at least 10 seconds since the last beep.)


The Pink City and camel riding

After another long hot drive, we arrived in Jaipur, the capital city of Rajasthan. It's known as the pink city because of prevalence of pink limestone in the architecture. Our hotel had a small swimming pool and a lovely rooftop restaurant with musicians who, after finishing, put on a puppet show. The next morning we were ready for some down time after our hectic pace, so opted to move on directly to the small town of Pushkar. However, Menta had other ideas. We had some difficulty communicating our wish to leave directly to Pushkar, as he may have either a) not understood why we wanted to leave so quickly, or b) felt it was his obligation to show us around. We were quite glad in the end as he took us to the Amber Fort, which was an amazing structure with reinforced walls that climbed up and down the hillsides, baths, ornately decorated rooms, and incredible views of the valley.

Pushkar was literally a breath of fresh air. It's a town of about 50,000 people and a sacred Hindu site, popular with Israeli tourists and a full stock of tourist amenities. It's also very walkable which is not something we'd experienced so far as usually walking anywhere here involves dodging potholes, debris, aggressive auto rickshaw drivers, cows, and poo. Our hotel, Master Choice, had a lovely garden and a pool in the back, which meant I now actually look like I've been somewhere slightly tropical. Pushkar is also on the edge of the desert which means sand everywhere and cooler nights. Not exactly long-sleeve weather, but at least the constant stream of sweat down your back stops when the sun goes down.

Being near the desert also means camels and camel treks. With four camels and four guides, we set off for a two hour walk. I've never ridden a camel before and can assure you it is nothing like riding a horse. It's harder to hang on when they run as you're bouncing around like a ping pong on a paddle, but at a gentle walk is quite tranquil, even meditative.

With a quick flight from Jaipur to Ahmedabad, we'd officially reached the end of our few days of holiday and the true purpose of our trip was about to begin—Royal Roads residency.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Menta, our driver, and the Taj Mahal.

We met Menta on the morning of October 6 when he picked us up to start our six day tour of Agra, Jaipur, and Pushkar. Nicholas decided to stay in Delhi but came down to meet our driver, say goodbye, and his concern for our safety to our driver. Nicholas is the size of a linebacker. Menta is the same size as me. I think it helped because not only was Menta watchful of our safety, he was a great driver; transportation on the roads warrants a full blog post onto itself.

Agra is about 250 km from Delhi. However, that distance is deceptive because it took nearly 7 hours, through a horrible traffic jam, blistering heat in a car with failing air conditioning, and a roadside stop. We chose the appropriately named Shanti Lodge for Rs 400 a night (about $9). While it was clean, it was shabby; the bathroom sink drained directly onto the floor and the air conditioner was an "air chiller" which consisted of an industrial sized fan encased in a bale of hay. We did, however, have a television, though Melissa noted, "I'd rather have t.p. than TV."

However, our choice of that hotel was based on the rooftop patio restaurant, which not only had a fantastic view of the Taj, it had great food. Getting our ticket to the Taj was an exercise in Indian bureaucracy as the ticket office is nowhere near the gate, but a fleet of rickshaw drivers are quite happy to take you the 1 km up the road to the office for a small fee. Upon reflection, I believe it was set up strategically this way to provide further employment for the poorest of the poor, which bicycle rickshaw drivers are. At the gate there are three more staff—one to check your ticket and make a mark on it, one to tear it, and another to stamp it. Again, further employment. With more than a billion people to employ, it makes sense to carve out roles where possible.

My reflections

Before I arrived in India I read a great book called "Tourists at the Taj" by Tim Edensor. He spent a few years studying tourists at the Taj Mahal and how they interacted, viewed, looked upon, and moved around this imposing monument. I was glad I'd read the book but something about my experience at the Taj, as wonderful as it was, was unsettling, as one of the things Edensor wrote about was how visitors follow a specific path, take pictures of the same things; painfully predictable (my words, not his.) I felt that Edensor was studying tourist behaviour, but wonder if his insights were somewhat short-sighted. I did much the same things he described, but not out of choice, as the spaces around the monument doesn't really allow for much creativity of movement--visitors much follow a defined path, rules, and are therefore limited in how they experience the building and surrounding areas. And with 35C+ heat, going early in the morning or later in the evening is not about getting the best light, it's about avoiding heatstroke!

I read a journal article recently where one of the authors talked about famous world sites which overshadow everything else nearby. The Taj Mahal is a perfect example of this. I can't tell you anything about the region; I don't even know what state Agra is in. Tourists can buy any number of Taj related souvenirs from small marble replicas to fridge magnets; entire infrastructure in Agra town is geared towards facilitating tourists' visits, probably at the expense of the rest of the area. The Taj Mahal is so beautiful, it's like it sucked all the beauty out of the surrounding area and I'm sure other tourists would agree that Agra town is a dump.

If I ever go back to a tourist site which is known for having a one trick pony, I'll be looking beyond the obvious and not be so single-sighted. India has so much beauty of culture and people, but it isn't blatant and must be sought out beyond the poverty, beggars, and crumbling infrastructure. I'm sure the Taj Mahal is no different.

Experiencing Delhi.

With only one day in Delhi before we were set to leave for Agra to see the Taj Mahal, our aim was to see as much as we could without killing ourselves from the jet lag. After the hotel breakfast we hired a taxi driver for the day, which was cheaper than taking multiple auto rickshaws which couldn't fit four of us anyway (Nicholas decided not to join us for the day) and headed out to Delhi's famous Red Fort. I'm glad we saw it as it's an impressive structure but with intense security. I falsely assumed that it was due to the Commonwealth Games, but since then every other historic site we entered had similar security—metal detectors, scanners, and a pat down (behind a curtain for ladies, gents have to do it out in the open).

From there we headed to Khan Market to meet our instructor Wendy Quarry at 4 pm. We were early so found a lovely cafe upstairs above a shop for a little lunch and the best juice I've ever had. Something I noticed immediately is a staff person exists for every job; for example while shopping one person's role was to refold the clothes after shopping, another person took the tags off when paying, and another person put it into a bag. Additionally there is another person to hold your bags at the front door while you shop, another person to open the door, and yet another to check your receipt as you leave the door. In any one restaurant there are more waiters than any Western restaurant would ever dare employ, but that doesn't mean you'll get prompt or accurate service. In one cafe, we asked for our bill, and the manager came back asking us to wait 5 minutes due to a problem with the computer system. We were already late so asked if we could have it quickly. Of course they agreed. After a few more minutes Melissa had a peek and saw probably 15 staff trying to actually assemble the computer system out of the box. A perfect example from Storti's book on how Indians don't like to say no and need to save face.

Arriving in Delhi.

I arrived late on October 4 (actually October 5) at Hotel Ajanta in Delhi. During my flight to Delhi I experienced my first reminders from one of our readings for pre-residence, Craig Storti's Speaking of India. Storti provides an overview of Indian culture and communication styles, mannerisms, etiquette, use of personal space, etc., was confirmed as any sense of personal space I had disappeared on the plane as my fellow passengers seemed quite nonplussed by sleeping against me, elbowing me, sandwiching me while getting off the plane, etc.

My hotel driver was in the terminal with my name on a sign as I arrived but as we walked to the car park I received nothing but intense stares from men. (And I'm not talking about a prolonged glance, but drop-everything-you're-doing stares.) I woke my sleeping roommates and fellow students Anika, Claire, and Melissa, and Anika's friend Nicholas visiting from Damascus. I only slept about 4 hours and woke to the early dawn in Delhi and listened to the city wake up. The sun burned bright fuchsia due to the pollution, and I watched from my 4th floor balcony as residents started their day which includes sweeping doorways, starting fires, and washing cows. I sipped my coffee that had magically appeared out of nowhere, and enjoyed the peace and quiet while it lasted before I truly started my grand adventure.

During some 30 hours cramped in an airplane seat on my journey to India and back, I meditated on what personal space means to me. Why do I care of someone stands to close to me, rests their head against my shoulder, or pushes me in a lineup?

My reflection

Upon reflection, I've realized being in India is that personal space--or space in general--is a luxury we enjoy in Canada. India has more than a billion people and a land mass about a third of Canada's. With many things of abundance, I don't place the same value it when it is in abundance; only when it because a scarcity do I treasure it, even covet it. Personal space is one of those things I take for granted, not unlike access to water, good food, personal opportunities, or love. And when personal space is taken away, I viewed Indians' "invasion" of my space as being pushy or disrespectful, even violating. Of course the intend was probably none of those things, because personal space doesn't carry the same meaning for Indians; another example of how a cultural difference can be manifested.

The First Week

It's hard to believe I've only been in India for a week.  Sometimes it seems like I've just left, and sometimes it feels like I've been here forever.  My apologies for not keeping my blog up to date; the last 4 days involved mostly travel and a very spotty satellite internet connection.  To make up for it, I'll be doing a series of posts on the first week and my reflections on a week of travel through New Delhi, Agra, and Rajasthan.  I haven't started the meditations earnestly yet, but I will once residence starts.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Meditation number one

My intent with this blog is to meditate on my experience of a month in India.

I am not a natural meditator. With full time work and nearly full time school, I don't have a lot of time for reflection.

My first meditation, which I attempted before I left, went something like this:

"Okay, still the mind. <blank for 1 second> Don't think about anything. <blank> Just be open, see what comes up. <blank for 3 seconds.> Oh crap I forgot to pick up a laptop lock. Pick up another another luggage lock or two? Ya right, when will I have time to do that? Forget it. Still have two more books to read. Let's see, if I read one book a night maybe I can start the exams on Thursday, finish it Friday, pack Saturday, leave Sunday. Need to talk to staff about priorities. Wonder who still has some capacity? If I move some stuff around, maybe J. can take it on. Need to check in with her.

"STOP. Empty mind. <blank for 2 seconds>. Itchy nose. <scratch.> I should take a Swiss army knife, ya, that would come in handy. Where is it? I think I have to go to the bathroom. No, hold it. Empty mind. "

Perhaps its best I leave the meditations until after I get off the plane.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Done.

I’m done. Or at least I think I’m done schoolwork – two, eight hour exams later based on assigned readings, about 11 or 12 books. I lost count. My classmate Nick calculated out that if we had done what was required of us, it would have meant 85 hours of reading. In three weeks. Plus our jobs.

Needless to say, I can truly say with all honesty, work on these exams sucks. And no, there is not some veiled modesty here – it truly and absolutely sucks. If I had to read them I would probably draw barf splotches on them, throw them into a fireplace, and then use the ashes on an icy driveway. But, since my profs will be reading this, I WOULD ABSOLUTELY NOT FAIL ME. DEFINITELY NOT. WON'T WANT TO DO THAT.

But I’m done. However, my packing is not. With T minus 18 hours, the pressure is now on.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Welcome, and Namaste.

This is what we call, in the academic world, a reflexive documentary, where I “narrate and reflect” on my India experiences as a kind of cultural self-assessment. As a female, white, Westerner with an air conditioned office, nice paycheque and a dental plan, how does going to India for a month help me come to terms, or even redefine, my identity? How can it make me a better communicator by understanding others better?

And what is that identity? I may think of myself as a traveller, not a tourist, but that may be an old story that I play in my head. When was the last time I truly challenged myself as unscripted traveller moving beyond the safety of the tourist enclave? It’s been a while. My life is very comfortable. Perhaps I’ve drifted into a comfortable complacency. Surely, spending a month in a country with where schedules are just a rough guideline, “no” is communicated simply by not saying “yes”, and the sheets are less than 400 thread count is sure to shake me loose.

My intent is to come back with new insights, and perspective, (a bonus would be 10 pounds lighter). To help achieve this, I’ll draw on what India is known for – mysticism and spirituality. I’ll use meditation to reflect on my experiences. My aim is one meditation a day. We’ll just have to see what comes up.

See you on here.