Bear with me as the heading of this blog cannot begin to encapsulate this trip, but rather functions as a starting off point that I will eventually change when I feel I’ve found a more suitable title.
I feel more colorful here. It almost seems as if everything is spontaneous. The driving, the food, the toilets, and whether or not I’ll have Wi-Fi… it’s all a guessing game. I found out a few days in that I wouldn’t have service outside of WhatsApp and Wi-Fi, and I think that was my first culture shock; although, I haven’t really felt completely out of place just yet. While in India, do as India does is my philosophy at this point. It’s frustrating, though, because I’ve wanted to send some pictures to family and friends, yet I can’t unless we’re essentially solely in Krishnayya’s house, and that’s pretty infrequent between the busy days we’ve had and the ones to come. Our hotel wi-fi is pretty terrible too, and I don’t have service unless I’m sitting in the main lobby with a fully charged laptop (since the people who built this place didn’t think to have outlets there oddly enough). I know many are interested in hearing about the terrible horrible no good very bad flight, but I’m going to skip over Kymberly and my experience with Air India. I’ve not only gone over the event with my professor and her in vigorous detail, but also such an experience would leave any normal person bald from the stress of it all. It’s over and done with and we’ve learned an incredible lesson, especially for me as a first-time flyer.
For family and friends reading this, Krishnayya is our trip “dad” per-say. He has gone above and beyond expectations having organized the whole trip for us, and he is absolutely wonderful. He was both a professor here in Vizag and taught some in the United States. In the past he also hosted a number of BYU students during the summer in the late 80’s and early 90’s to today. He spoils us, and I honestly don’t know what we’d do without him. Sailaja is our trip “mom,” who is also Krishnayya’s ‘manager’ of the house. She basically handles his phone/ emails, serves him meals, does laundry, cleans, and organizes essentially everything. You get the idea; she’s a masterful woman. Although she speaks little English, according to Krishnayya she’s got a big mouth, an even bigger heart, and an incredible amount of patience when it comes to Kymberly and my shopping. She and Durga cook every meal, breakfast, lunch and dinner because there are no leftovers here, and I’m thoroughly beyond impressed by their diligence. Durga is the main chef of the house and has two small children Mumu and Sidu (their nicknames). I haven’t seen the children since the first day we arrived in Vizag, but they are SO precious. Kymberly already plans on squeezing the life out of the little guys and drowning them with kisses the minute they return.
I guess we’ll get into the meat of my experience thus far… the things I noticed different. I’m going to start with the driving and I’ll try to explain this the best I can because it was an experience in and of itself riding in our first Indian Uber! First off, we drive on the left here versus the right side of the road, so every time we enter a roundabout I’m completely horrified. There don’t seem to be many rules of the road, or if there are, then they’re completely ignored. I have been in a car/ autorickshaw while driving on the wrong side of the road (so here that would be on the right), on a narrow road, with another car driving the same direction on our left, and an oncoming car driving towards us directly ahead. This has happened more than I can count, but oddly enough it’s become exciting, and the endorphins which I feel while riding a roller-coaster have become similar to these ones… The “on the brink of death” endorphins, I suppose. There aren’t many cars here, but rather an almost unnecessary number of motorcycles, more than I’ve ever seen. Although, I can’t blame them considering that gas is about 76 rupees per liter (which is 304 rupees per gallon), and the equivalent in US dollars is about 4.50$ per gallon. I would be riding a motorcycle too if I wanted to save money. The roads can also become extremely narrow, so motorcycles have more flexibility when it comes to those types of streets in comparison to cars and autorickshaws.
My perception of car honking has changed since I’ve been here. I think I’ve maybe honked my car horn three times. I don’t like doing it because it seems rude and obnoxious, but then I came here and the first thing we encounter is a bustling harmony of car horns echoing far into the mountains from the busy city. However, It’s a warning rather than an obnoxious response to ill-driving. Vehicles honk at motorcycles, cars and people to make them aware of their presence and so other cars know to watch out as they pass. No one seems angry or has gotten road rage as far as I’ve seen, and I surprisingly trust them. To get from one place to another around here, they really must be awfully aware of themselves and others on the road.
I’m sure my family and friends are reading this and thinking to themselves Kari, I don’t care about the driving. Tell me about the toilets! Honestly, I haven’t had a problem with the toilets. I knew what to expect, and I’ve learned how to poop in a hole. Kymberly and my hotel toilet in Vizag is westernized and has a cute little sprayer that cleans everything to the ‘T.’ However, there was another hotel in a city southwest from Vizag called Rajahmundry (a city in which I’ll talk about in more detail later so prepare for that), and although the room was much larger, the toilet was just a little decorated hole in the ground (that flushes! Who knew?). To preface this, the hotel was one of the first hotels to pop up in the city, so it’s a bit dated. Anyways, we’re visiting the commonplace of Arthur Cotton who revolutionized the irrigation and water system around here, and he has become almost a deity to these people. His work instigated an engineering and technological revolution in these regions that can be seen even today, and they memorialize him for it. His statues can be found next to Gandhi himself; it’s impressive. He’s most well known for his work in implementing a dam across the Godavari River, a river that is an astounding 4 miles wide, and that’s just at the beginning before the river forks into two. The Godavari River is a part of the largest water basin in south India, and Arthur Cotton did wonders for the people there. We even visited his museum where they painted him in such an honorary manner that many Christians would find the likeness of his portrait similar to the depictions of Jesus himself. Arthur led them to prosperity!
Another thing I’ve found myself having to get accustomed to around here are the stares from people. Visakhapatnam and Rajahmundry are not often tourist destinations, so the presence of a tall Norwegian woman in these parts is, to say the least, fairly odd (and when I say tall, I mean I tower over every person, male and female! Only on rare occasions do I see a male that is close to or above my height!). Imagine if I was not only tall, but ALSO light blonde… I’m sure children would cry! When we were in Rajahmundry visiting Arthur Cotton’s dam, I walked past this little girl. As she noticed me I saw her mouth drop, and so did the ice cream in her hand! What had happened was that of a movie scene. Ya know, generally the little girl or boy sees something completely astounding, like the world ending in one of those embarrassingly bad drama-action films (like the movie 2012). So, in the child’s fascination and transfixion of the magnificent event playing out before them, their hand lets go of their ice cream. I laughed when I saw the scene unfold before me, I couldn’t help it. I was that much of a magnificent event that the natural connection between mind and body was severed for just a small instant… because of me.
Now, to dive into the past week’s events: in a nutshell, we’ve been paraded about for political gain, have unendingly been asked for selfies, taken a train, and shopped. Many of the people in this area are not used to seeing people of a different skin color and many young boys and girls have approached us with requests to take a selfie. However, that one selfie is that of a crack in a dam. Once you allow one selfie with one person, then a flood of new requests begin pouring in. I’m even drowning at the thought of it all because we get asked a lot! By the way, I needed to insert the part about taking a train because this was my first time taking one, and it was in India to say the least! India has been a lot of firsts for me… first flight, first country I’ve visited outside of North America, first train ride, and I’m sure the list will continue as we keep on keeping on.
Anyways, I’m sure you’re thinking, what? Paraded about for political gain? How so? Tell me more! Well, your prayers have been answered. This has probably been the most interesting aspect of our trip just yet, and it’s only been a little over a week. We didn’t realize it at first, but all we knew was that we had been asked to speak at an isolated city/village school about forty-five minutes from where we were staying in Visakhapatnam. Professor Schmitthenner was a nervous wreck the night before, unable to sleep, because he was to speak in Telugu to the students (the spoken language in Andhra Pradesh). Not many outsiders know Telugu because it’s a specific language for this region that exists basically solely in this area. So, because of this, the kids were fascinated by the idea that an outsider knew Telugu, and they wanted to hear him speak. The day of, we get picked up in the morning by this man with a mustache, and little do we know that his intentions may have been more than just taking us around to speak to children. Essentially, we found out he wanted to be reelected for a school position in the region (so when I say it was for political gain, it was in the school system), and things pretty much fell into place after we realized that! I do want to put this out there, though, he picked us up, dropped us off, fed us, took us around the town, and it was all paid for! He did try, as much as he could, to treat us well. The cherry on top was meeting the kids because they were absolutely wonderful. From ages five to fifteen, these kids were astounded by our presence, and they even asked for Kymberly and my signature for being the first white people they had ever seen. It was adorable. I’d not felt more welcomed until that point.
Although, before Kymberly and I spoke up about how the intensity of the day might be too much to handle for a second time, we were already signed up for another event. This time Kymberly wouldn’t be there as she made previous plans with her husband’s family in Gujarat in preparation for her second wedding happening in December. Professor and I were now to speak in Rajahmundry to university students rather than middle-high schoolers. Essentially, the man found out we were planning a trip to see the works of Arthur Cotton and quickly booked a session for us to come out to; it was very last minute, but it was happening!
We made it to the train station with time to spare and the ride itself was relaxing, even without A/C. I had a window seat and treated myself to the eloquent writing of the book Eat, Pray, Love, given to me by my Aunt Jan and one that I already can’t put down. For a time, I watched the countryside as we glided across the land from Vizag, a place I was still finding myself and getting used to, to a new place for which I prepped to do the same. After having only been in Vizag for three days at that point and we were already traveling to a new place, I wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to how I was supposed to feel. As we traveled, I can only describe the mountains that surrounded us as these random steep spurts of rock that existed on a flat landscape. I have been accustomed to the Appalachian Mountains. First there are rolling hills, which then transcend into deepening valleys, and then, mountains. That slow progression doesn’t seem to exist here; rather, it’s spontaneous. Krishnayya and prof. told us a story a while back about how the mountains came to be, and this is the legend as I remember, which can also be read in the Ramayana epic:
Rama’s brother, Lakshmana, was hurt and nearly killed by the son of a demon after a battle, and he was very close to death. The remedial medicine for his wounds existed as an herb on a particular mountain, mount Mahodaya, in the Himalayas. If he wanted to be saved, then he’d have to eat the herb. Hanuman had the strength and ability to fly to the Himalayas, so he was called upon to fetch the medicine by Rama. However, once he got to the Himalayas, he couldn’t remember the herb that was required for Lakshmana’s treatment. In his pickle, he instead uplifted the entire mountain and brought it back to the place where he began his journey. While Hanuman was carrying the mountain to Rama and his injured brother, parts of it fell off, and those bits and pieces became the eastern and western gods (gods meaning the mountain ranges, according to Krishnayya).
Well, wouldn’t that make a lot of sense! But I don’t know. Who really knows?
Anyways, we made our way into Rajahmundry, a much smaller city than Vizag, but very heavily populated if you consider the people to area ratio. The roads were a lot bumpier and so were the hotel beds (but I actually slept very comfortably!). The next day, after settling in that night, we were picked up by a man working for the man running for school office. When I say this event was over the top. I mean… We knew to expect a greater number of students; however, when I opened that car door, music began playing to announce our arrival. As Dr. Schmitthenner made his exit, they decorated him with an ornate headband and garland. From there we were very slowly directed to the front of the event (to the honorary seating for special guests… which apparently was us) as a band orchestrated music around us.
Finally in our places, we adjusted ourselves to get comfortable. Prof. took off his garland and headband since the heat made it too much to bear, and then, I felt it. I felt two-thousand curious eyes on us, and I didn’t need to look back to confirm what I knew; it was apparent. In that moment, I became very suddenly aware of everything I did because each minor, maybe natural, gesture for me may be odd to them, and they studied me for it. Don’t use your left hand to adjust your hair! I thought. It was an odd mix of emotions… nervousness and excited-ness. I’d never been this important before to such an impressive number of people, and I can’t say that I completely disliked my fifteen minutes of fame. It was a weird feeling. We sat and awaited our names to be called up on stage, but when the woman with the microphone spoke, I couldn’t understand nor hear my name. Students in paint walked across the stage, their placement exactly distanced from each other, and that’s when both prof. and I knew we were in for a ride. There were performers!
We were blown away. Not only by the apparent choreographed set, but the stacked on stacked subwoofers completely knocked us out of our chairs. I could actually feel my eardrums pulsating with every dropped beat. Following what seemed like the umpteenth performance (don’t get me wrong, these kids were phenomenal, and they had very clearly put so much time and effort into each show) we finally were called up on stage. We were ready to leave at that point because the heat almost unbearable, and the speeches by each honorary member on stage were what seemed like 30 minutes long. My fifteen minutes of fame were over and dried up at this point, so I found myself anxiously awaiting my turn to speak so we could skidoodle out of there. When it was finally my time, although I’m pretty sure no one understood a lick of what I said, shortly after me, Prof. was given the mic. He quickly went back and forth between Telugu and English, and immediately following his speech, they awarded him with a plaque. At the first available chance we darted out of there, both agreeing that this was too much, and we were ready to be in the comfort of some A/C.
Since then I have seen an immesurable number of monkeys (though I know not to get too close because they like to take phones and food, seen via. YouTube), temples (I may have accidentally offended the gods at one point, but then I apologized, and they blessed my family), statues (there are statues memorializing people everywhere! It’s impressive!), and surprised faces (that I’m here!). It’s been great so far. I have had some minor indigestion and things of that nature since I’m still getting accustomed to the food, but what can you expect?
I hope you all have stayed with me thus far. Until next time, and with love,
Kari
The Real India: Dubbed in Telugu 