Day 2: Mussourie

1. I got my period today, 10 days late.
2. Despite feeling confident with my Hindi/Urdu finding the correct train platform, train car and seat was difficult and scary in Delhi this morning. I spent 3 hours talking with a new friend who invited me to his home in Srikur or Srimpur or Sanjuoor.
3. There is no need to buy first class tickets. They are twice as expensive and half the fun (920 rps).
4. I took a cab from Dehradoon to Landour via Mussourie. Driving through the foot hills here I thought. This looks just like Pakistan. It is very poor, run down, dirty. Most things are unclean, water, stores, the air. The smell is bad. The traffic is looney. The roads fit one car and they are full of people on foot, bike, bike rikshaw, motor scooter, three wheelers and cabs. Everyone just honks alot. I thought I was going to die of tiredness on the cab ride (550 rps, gave him 800)
5. When we arrived in Landour I saw a white boy. The second today. I jumped out and asked him about a homestay. To make a long story short, a 12 year old Indian girl with him, listened to my story about needing to do a homestay with a Muslim family and took me to someone called, "uncle." Seems to be the word for any older man who is not your dad.
6. Uncle is the owner and cler in a one person egg store. He sits behind a counter surrounded by eggs. We told my story to him, he said his house was too small and he didn't know anyone who could take me. His Urdu was excellent, he and his wife speak Urdu. Urdu and Hindi are not the same. Certainly not for real conversations. When I explained my story to him, needing to learn Urdu for Pakistan, wanting to pray namaz, and open to sleeping in a tight space, he called his wife in. I loved them immeiately. The are kind easy going people who laugh easily. The local imam, who is currently sincing the 7:30 call to prayer, comes to their home everyday at 8 pm to teach their three kids Urdu, Arabic and the Quran. This is a dream come true.
7. We agreed that I would stay with them. I would share a room with their two daughters 8 and 12. And Arif, their son, would give me his bed and sleep in the common room. We decided to sort out the price later.
8. I suffered through my first namaz with mom at 5:30 after tea. My dupata falls, none of my shirts were appropriate (can't wear the Om shirt, cant wear a see through shirt, can't wear a short sleeve shirt). Washing before namaz could also wipe the desire right out of you. Wash you hands three times past your wrists, mouth three times, nose three times, hands three times again, forearms three times, feet three times, face, nose, mouth ears, neck and pray.
9. I am currently working with Arif on getting a cell phone, late for the next prayer round, and looking forward to meeting the village imam.
10. This is heaven.

Day 1: Dehli

Coming in from the airport in the wee hours of the morning, I had a familiar realization. This is not Pakistan. I was quickly reminded of my first impression from Pakistan last December which was, this is not Bosnia.

I felt lighter. It felt ok to be an unaccompanied woman. I didn't feel the heavy gaze of a sea of men in shalwar chameez, rather men and women's eyes darted around the arrival area searching for their friends. Allelujiah.

One unintimidating man held a sign that read had my name and USAID written on it.

I immediately tried out my Hindi, I mean Urdu. It worked. We chatted the whole way into town. My questions were about the people sleeping on the streets, they looked like piles of bones. His questions were around my understanding of the Pakistan/India relationship and why I think there is unemployment in South Asia.

As I tried to talk with him I was reminded of my Urdu teachers warnings that I might not get to discuss our mandatory topics (pollution, space travel, woman's rights, terrorism etc etc) in my everyday conversations when outside of the FSI bubble. Hmmm, looks like I might.

En route to Delhi the past few nights I considered staying for longer than 2 weeks. I have come so far, and if this "immersion" is successful, why not stay a month I thought. Flash ahead, by the end of the day, I am thinking, I think I could stay 2 months and still pass my test on October 12.

We will see.

I have got to boil this down:

Today's themes: 1) The blessing and the curse 2) Om, Om, Om and 3) My instincts are right.

The blessing and the curse is being in any country with USAID. It is in fact a blessing to have a crew of friends and assistants waiting for me in any developing country. Consequently, a driver picked me up, a woman I had never met (30 something, Energy PSC) had invited me to stay in her home, had her maid make breakfast for me, wash my clothes and sent her driver to pick up a train ticket for my journey tomorrow to the himalayas. When she wasn't organizing all of this, she had programmed a cell phone for me, and arranged a day of shopping with the woman whose job I want in India, tea with a common SAIS friend and a dinner party for me in her neighbors flat. Ahh, thanks I said as I walked out the door to begin experiencing India. Although was this India? I can't go into details on a public blog about how conflicted I feel about accessing this kind of privelege as a way of life. The ladies I spent the afternoon shopping with have their own drivers, insights into tax breaks and the same furniture that we all have. I had it in Sarajevo and US Buy American law requires that all US Government employees have the same furniture everywhere in the world. This was bizarre in Sarajevo, going to book club at a colleagues house and running into the same furniture from my place. But it became more surreal here as I looked at what felt like "my bookshelf" or slept on what felt a whole lot like "my bed." I wasn't in Sarajevo, but the deja vu was palpable.

Who will I become in this world? How does it change a person to have a driver, cook, maid, gardener and guard--note all separate people? Can you even say you have lived in India when the daily water and electricity outages are mitigated by your constant US embassy supply?

Ok ok, I have to go to bed.

2) Om, Om, Om...

What is yoga to me? I have traveled to Sivananda Ashrams easily 40 times in the past 7 years. I have taken 1000s of classes. I have bought plenty of yoga kitsch and here I am in Mecca, of sorts. I can't believe it, I didn't come here for yoga, but I have been moving towards, into, relaxing into a yogic way of life since Lizzie invited me to the Sivananda Ashram in Austria in 1999. Me coming to India, I always thought, would be about yoga, not about Urdu or USAID. And yet here I am returning to my daily sivananda practice on my mat, wearing my first of many new Ommy shirts, and planning a getaway this weekend to a yoga ashram 3 hours from my language school.

(Bahot ajib cheeze hai kay me yahoon hoon, aur kay jnaneshwari meri sat naheen hai.)

3) My instincts were right.

My sense in DC, is that I deeply believe that the development industry is deeply flawed. I think that moving to another country attempting to be an agent of change without deep preparation is a big fat arrogant mistake. I have created the luxury of a nearly 1 year preparation cycle to try to combat this. I launched my response last December (when this blog started) in Pakistan. 3 weeks quickly became 6 as I was pulled into a wedding in Lahore, the Kerry visit in NWFP and daily heart to hearts with the Pakistani staff in Islamabad. Then came 6 months of SAIS classes and Urdu language training. While living my DC/Pakistani immersion I realized that some days in DC, I didn't speak English or speak with people who are not in someway connected to South Asia. My intention is that I would land, in November of 2006 in Pakistan with a life and professional fluency in the language (the long sought after 3/3). Today, I began reaping the benefits of this work. I spent the afternoon at Ajit's house with he and his mother. Ajit is a PHd student at SAIS, he has heard me stumble through my Urdu evolution nearly every week for the first three months. Ajit was the friend at my birthday party who spun folks around before they batted at the pinatta. Ajit introduced me to Rose who introduced me to Robyn whose home I am in tonight. Blah blah blah.

I have been preparing for this day, the beginning of my South Asian life since, since, since I selected Pakistan last June? Since I selected Pakistan as a post that would help me get to India, since I dove head first into a one pointed season of all things Pakistani/Indian/South Asian.

Mera Dil bag bag hota hai.

That's enough. Should sleep now.

August 2006 India Immersion Trip

I am headed to India to study Urdu in the himalyas. I always expected my first trip to India would be for Yoga. Yet another surprise. Here are my top ten assumptions:

1) I will love speaking Urdu-Hindi to everyone: cab drivers, old ladies, store clerks. I will be surprised at how well I can get by after 6 months of study.
2) I will want to stay longer than 2 weeks. Possible for 2 months.
3) India will have a lighter, more liberal feel than Pakistan, they show more skin, dress more western, dont get murdered for wanting a love wedding.
4) The crowds will deeply annoy me.
5) I will be thrilled to be traveling with the support of the US mission (free place to stay in Dehli, rides, help).
6) I will have packed the wrong shoes. Needed low hiking boots.
7) The food will make me sick.
8) I will maybe wish I was going to India instead of Pakistan
9) I will find a way to do a homestay in a village
10) My Urdu will drastically improve and I will return home a solid 2 plus.

Accepting each teacher as they are

Today was a frustrating language day. Anika had to skip our reading for Gist class bc Shela was sick. I had Shabir Sahab twice. His patience is amazing. It is clear to my teachers and to me that:

1) My gender, plurals, and oblique is very weak. I have to work on it every day.
2) I am responsible for my own learning. They are not going to give me structure, not for verb conjugation, posessive pronouns, or lagna. I have to make it. I have the resources and when SS asked me to create my own charts today for homework, this was very helpful. Now I have notecards for a few key grammar points.
3) I respond best to Sahiba's teaching style. I am motivated to prepare for class, maximize the hour, do my homework, and do extra. As Kari said, I need to be exposed to a word 12 times before I can use it. 1) guess the definition, 2 read the story 3) revise definitions 4) use words in sentences, 5) listen on bike 6) reread story/stories at the end of the week 6) put vocab in readable reviewable form (is that notecards, sheets of paper to read on the treadmimll, or a new printable image making card system.

Goal for May come up with word system, start kicking gender and plurals, do reading review weekly.

Its going to be good

I can see it. I can envision myself living a Pakistani life. What does that mean? It means I can clearly imagine that I will conduct all of my relationships in Urdu, both in the office and with friends. And I believe that I will be able to quickly build a local social life. My assumption is that social life in Pakistan takes place in families. I think that with the people I know already from the mission and the Pakistani's I have met in DC who will be in Islamabad, that I may be able to be very happy in Islamabad.

I met a random guy at a happy hour tonight who had lived in Karachi for six months. He said it was lonely, there was no night life, that the only socializing he did was going to his Pakistani male neighbors for tea, he said he drank alot and watched alot of movies.

I think this is to be expected.

My approach to living in any country is very different. I really see myself, primarily, interacting and relating with the nationals. I see myself putting very little energy into building my expat community, although that will come quickly. My Urdu teachers are fairly surprised at my motivation. Some say, why are you killing yourself, others say its great that you are putting so much effort into getting to know Pakistan, a third asked today if I want to marry a Pakistani man.

This is my twelfth week. The good news is that I see from NZ's party's that I can hold my ground and insist on speaking in Urdu, even with the Pakistani elite who speak perfect english.

I am having the same problems I had with Bosnian because I am careless: gender agreement and verb agreement. This is the season to pay attention to these details. Once SAIS ends in 2 weeks, I will have another 10 hours a week to study.

I want to pick up my writing and reading. My fear is that I will get a 3 in speaking and a 2 in reading.

I can see myself there for many years, with D visiting regularly.

Pakistani Food in DC

I decided to find a Pakistani, not Indian resturaurnt to pracitice my new vocab in. This brought me to the Lahore Kebob on U Street.

Starting Urdu Language Classes

I love it.
I miss Bosnian. I am sorry to let it go. I think having knishka in my class is a plus. I need to figure out my learning system, notecards on rings, how to get to FSI. It is really fun. I want to build my career around learning as many languages as possible.

I am outta here

Here are my post Pakistan Observations: The Horrors, Delights, and Questions

1) I had no idea that a whole food supply could be contaminated. I guess this is what happens if you don't have clean water and the hygiene in a country is really really bad. My first few days, I didn't take the warning, "Always know your water source" seriously, but as I saw American colleagues and Pakistanis drop like flies I began to get concerned. One colleage said to me non-challantly--my amoebas name is Sally, we all name our amoebas here. She was serious. It is equally perplexing that this same food supply can be so oily and fattening. I got sick twice--and apparently, should name my new friend.

2) The work culture in the US Embassy in Pakistan is that you work 24/7, although I am fiercely opposed to this kind of living, it is seductive. There is no shortage of important high stress work to such as participate in the relief efforts for Earthquake survivors, their sheltors are collapsing, it is wet, cold and muddy in the tent villages, and they have minimal access even to the contaminated water supplies. I traveled to the mountains twice by helicopter to help out, I loved it, but put in more than 150 hours of overtime.