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.
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.
posted by kudzai99 at 6:43 AM
1 Comments:
I second kristinachen on the translation request. All that washing would be called OCD in this country.
Very glad you are there, soaking it all in, and sharing it with us.
Post a Comment
<< Home