In case you've been reading the news...

...we are all safe and sound in Hyderabad, in light of recent bombings to the south and west in Bangalore and Ahmedabad. There is a red alert on in Hyderabad for now, until further notice, but on campus and in the surrounding areas there is not a lot of people or draw for terrorism. We have been staying away from the main temples and mosques downtown, however, just to be on the safe side.

Welcome to University of Hyderabad (HCU) !

As previously alluded with the announcement that my roommate is green and about five inches long, I am officially moved in to the student hostel and attending classes at the University of Hyderabad.

1. To Bucket, or not to Bucket. Upon my arrival, I was gifted with a gecko, a mosquito net, a blanket, a pillow, a towel and...a bucket. My own personal bucket, for bathing, for laundry, or any other bucket-ish needs. Seems odd that I would feel the need to mention this. However, as the bathrooms are BYOTP (bring your own toilet paper), the bucket is a vital item. Although eating with my hands has been refined to a childlike dexterity, I have yet to master the Bucket. For that I should use the buckets readily provided, along with spigots, inside the toilet stalls; despite several explanations by veterans as to how this should be done I still BMOTP. My wallet and environmental consciousness, however, thinks that perhaps rest of the world has something on us Americans...

2. The internet. Never before have I been so painfully aware of my dependency not only on email, but the internet, to which I have no access in my dorm room. Not only am I used to checking my email hourly, but my music, studying capabilities, and news all come from the web, not to mention my communication with you all, via blog/Skype. So I camp out at the Study India Program guest house with my computer. In India the whole system can't function like we do in the States, where an email an hour before a meeting can be sufficient communication on the grounds that we are all attached to our computers. The internet goes down all the time, and we are without power for about 3 hours a day--3:03 pm to 6:30. While rolling blackouts cause huge upsets in California, Indians are used to going with the flow, lighting up candles and waiting to send that email for another few hours.

3. Aforementioned power crisis, in part to the late monsoon season which drives the hydro-power dams in Andhra Pradesh. Rain=power.

4. I have a bike! As provided on loan from SIP, for a small deposit of 1000 rps (about $25) that I will get back when I return the bike at the end of the semester. Pictures to come, but think basket on the front, bell on the handle, no gears and heavy as all get out. But there's something to be said for riding a bike for the sheer pleasure of it, attempting to carry your friends on the back.

5. While on the subject of transportation--autorickshaws. Hyderabad traffic puts both LA and Boston to shame, and autorickshaw drivers could hold their own in Nascar. Add Indian music to the equation and the result is brilliant. Just don't act too scared or your driver will start driving with his knees just to get a reaction.

6. Classes. After much ado, I signed up for Urdu, Indian Philosophy, Philosophical Foundations of Human Rights, and Religion, Society and Culture in Medieval India. All scheduled for the afternoon, except for Friday and Saturday (yes, Saturday. For Human Rights with this professor, it's worth it.) Half lecture classes, with almost private tutoring in Urdu and a discussion for Indian Philosophy. Shoot questions my way if you have them, but I'm truly excited about all of it.

Hyderabad, Part One

At long last, photos. Here I give you the tourist's view of Hyderabad, largely because we did it all in one day, and also largely because these were the only places at which I didn't feel awkward taking pictures. We stand out enough on the streets of India, being oddly dressed and of odd ethnic variety, that taking pictures never seems quite appropriate.

Chowmahalla Palace, home to the Asif Jahi dynasty.

Outside. . . Inside. . .

The famous Charminar--just one beautiful result of Hyderabadi kings showing off.

Qutab Shahi tombs: Second attempt of Hyderabadi kings to show off

Vain attempt of the Indian government to get people to wear helmets on their motorcycles.
This tickled me (and Tess, pictured here) because my daddy wears a helmet. . . on his mountain bike. . .
Golconda Fort, stronghold of the Nizam rulers of Hyderabad

Mosque inside the Golconda Fort

More photos to come, of course. I'm doing my best, half-witted photographer that I am. Lucky for me Hyderabad is highly photogenic, so I don't have to try very hard. All a matter of remembering to get out the camera.

There is a Gecko in my dorm room

'nuff said. Photos to come...

A Love like That

We hiked up the hill behind our hotel last night, to boulders that gave us a view of a smog-soaked sky badly in need of rain, whistling with the wind and the sounds of demolition somewhere among the car horns. Off to the left, the Golconda fort tops a bare rocky hill, rising above a skyline of flat-topped houses, the domes of Qutab Shahi tombs and the tops of mosques, whose adhan, (call to prayer) we hear when we are awake and present at the right hours. Somehow we all needed a mountain top.

Lindsay and Ben sat in the lotus position and meditated on their own boulders, Matt made a silhouette of himself standing on another boulder, and I sat a little ways down and let the David Crowder song that had been running through my head work it's way through my lips and onto the city air.

-------
And the problem is this
We were bought with a kiss
But the cheek still turned
Even when it wasn’t hit

And I don’t know
What to do with a love like that
And I don’t know
How to be a love like that

When all the love in the world
Is right here among us
And hatred too
And so we must choose
What our hands will do

Where there is pain
Let there be grace
Where there is suffering
Bring serenity
For those afraid
Help them be brave
Where there is misery
Bring expectancy
And surely we can change...
Surely we can change....
Something....

- david crowder

Where are all the women?

Lo and behold, I am in India. There are people everywhere, living, walking, cows and turds in the road, auto-rickshaws in the streets, and traffic that makes LA and Boston look like training grounds for new drivers. Messy beauty everywhere.

-------

From the moment of my arrival in the Mumbai airport, I've been wondering--where are all the women? I get in line for domestic security picking the shortest of several lines, and I am in a line with all men, thinking, "Well, there are a lot of businessmen travelling in India, I suppose..." Then someone looking official gestures to me and says that the women's line is to my left. Even so, the reason I didn't notice there was a women's line was because of the sheer lack of women in the queue. Perks for me--I get to bypass the long men's lines and walk right up, where I am frisked by a female security officer. Even so, I can't help but wonder, where are all the women?

**edited July 16, 2008**
We've had a week now of orientation, and after our initial trip into the city with peer tutors to show us the ropes of using the buses, we venture out in awkward groups to explore and shop. Of course, as a woman I've been warned by people in the States as well as my program staff as to the ways I should conduct myself on the streets. 1. Cover up. 2. Don't stare, and don't smile at men, which is an invitation for trouble. 3. If men touch you inappropriately, take off your shoe and give them a good whack--they deserve it, and local women would freak out equally on them. So all of this has left us girls wondering how exactly we are supposed to act American women, cultured to be independent and fight for our individual rights, yet crashing into outwardly submissive roles in order to preserve our safety. We've been given stereotypes of the slutty rich Hollywood American woman, and the submissive Indian woman. There is no one to imitate, no model of a culturally adapted American woman in India. We want a third option, but we haven't found it--yet.

Meanwhile, I still can't figure out where all the women are. Standing on the streets, selling fruit and clothes and sunglasses and sweets, selling in the shops, and running the hotel (A/C, pool, restaurant, all inside a gated community!) where they are putting us up during our orientation, it's all men, all the time. Of course, I do actually know where the women are--tucked away in the houses, with the few exceptions who we see in the buses and shopping in the streets. Yet walking through the streets with comically American students, it seems I've made the same mistake as I did in the airport, and we are all standing in the men's line. Wondering, "Where are all the women?"

Sun, California cliffs, a Blue Sky that Knocks me Over

I am post-beach and unmistakably लाल घन . That is, laal ghan. That is, red-butt. That is, a Hindi expression for white people who go to India and get sun-burned. My pride was hoping not to have to use that phrase ever for myself; alas, there are certain unreachable portions of my back that are now a screaming pink.

I am लाल घन and I haven't even gotten on the plane yet.