Wednesday, February 9

10 Cultural Mistakes and Faux Pas

This could be a very long blog post if I could remember every single mistake or faux pas that I've made or that one of my exchange student friends here have made. I'll try to write about those that I do remember. If I think of more later I'll write another post or just add on to this one.

1) Don't shake a woman's hand unless she offered first, many women especially the less educated don't shake hands. If you're a woman, it's usually best not to offer your hand to a man first, let him offer it to you. I think the first mistake I can think of was when I arrived at my first host families house and I offered my hand to my host mom. I knew right away that was a mistake because of the way she reacted. It wasn't until a few days later later that I learned why.

2) Don't expect hugs. Hugs are rarely given. Even on birthdays and when you see someone you've known but haven't seen for a long time you just shake hands. Even if you've been living with a family for a month of so, when you move out of their home not knowing if you'll see then again, don't expect a hug from your hosts especially you parents.

3) Always wash your hands before touching anything in the kitchen. Even if you washed them very recently and have done nothing but sit at the dinner table for a few minutes.

4) A lot of people know this one, eat with your right hand only. It's a good idea to handle serving utensils with your left.

5) The father of the house is always right. His word is final. If he has an opinion or idea it's correct. If he doesn't like the pattern of the skirt you're wearing you have to go change.

6) Never lend money to the hired help. I know this one not from personal  experience but second hand. Lending hired help money could get them fired especially if you use your little host sister as translator and she tells her mom.

7) Your not expected to thank waiters, drivers, or people of similar professions even though I still do out of habit.

8) Only young school girls wear their hair in two braids.

9) When you're visiting a home for the first time it's rude not to eat or drink something if it's offered. Even after the first time, you are expected to take something if offered a few times. Food is important to hospitality and it shows that you have the means to offer extra food to others. Hindus are supposed to treat guests as if they were a visiting god.

10) Never enter of go near a place of worship with your shoes on. In many houses shoes are not allowed at all. Putting shoes and feet up is not okay for many people and many consider it rude to be able to see the bottom of someone's foot when sitting. So if you were to cross one leg over the other and your foot was pointed at someone else in the room you may be giving them bad signals.

The hard thing is that not all of the rules apply to everyone, it depends on the family, religion, traditional-ness etc. There are hundreds more, I make mistakes all the time. Unfortunately when I sit down to write them everything goes out of my head.

Tuesday, February 8

Pictures...

I was planning on putting my favorite picture from each month that I've been here but that proved too difficult because for each month there was way more than one favorite. I also had a hard time remembering which pictures I'd already posted. Then I was planning on putting just a random collection of pictures up as I was looking through my pictures I remembered some comments that I've gotten about the lack of pictures of myself. I think I've been better about it recently but for some reason I still have a slight aversion to putting pictures of myself up. So in the end I've ended up with a few pictures that I really like, a some pictures that were my favorite in a certain month but mostly pictures of myself that I chose not to put up earlier, plus some pictures that other people took that I didn't post because I didn't take them...
If anyone has any blog topic ideas let me know. My life here is currently pretty similar day by day which is a good thing but it makes for a boring blog and I can't think of any good specific topics to write about.

A slum child who snuck into a Rotary Navaratri celebration to try to get free food off of the guests and to enjoy the dancing. (October)
Amanda and I in a restaurant in Bhopal. (September)
Photo Credit: Hannah Nowak
Some of the other girls from Nagpur practicing a dance for the Rotary conference in Christmas.
Left kneeling: Nisha Khan (Onterio),   Center: Franzi Linke (Gemany)   Right kneeling: Serenity Tedesco (Florida)

Dancing for the Navaratri celebration in my previous colony.
Photo Credit: Sebastian
The South Tour was busy and tiring, we also had many late nights at the hotels so a a lot of our bus time was used to catch up on sleep.
(Left to Right: Dascha- Oregon born in Russia, Me, Franzi- Germany, Chris- Illinois, Jordan- Oregon)
Photo Credit: Sebastian
On the houseboat at sunset in the backwaters of the state of Kerela.
Photo Credit: Sebastian

I may have posted this before. Me and a friend of my pervious host sister at a Rotary meeting.
Photo Credit: Shruti Agrawal (host sister)
Practicing for the performance at the Nagpur District Conference.
(Left: Serenity Tedesco- Florida, born in South Korea.   Right: Franzi Linke- Germany)
Dropping Sebastian off at the airport for his flight home.
(Left to Right: Nikolas- Germany, Sebastian- Colombia, Me, Hannah- Germany)
Photo Credit: Jordan Fletcher- Oregon
Saying goodbye to Sebastian.
Photo Credit: Deepak (Ritu Grover's driver)

Sunday, February 6

Another Student's Blog

If you ever have time visit www.nisha-in-india.blogspot.com Nisha Khan is one of my friends from the tour. She's from Onterio and is living in the town of Yavatmal. Her posts aren't frequent but they're good. I copied the following from her blog. It was actually written by our friend Chris who's from outside of Chicago and is staying in Nagpur. It's about the Christmas Eve that we spent in Nagpur it's very truthful and well written the rest of the post is written by Nisha about Christmas Day, I didn't have the space to copy that too :


"This is all Chris Yoder. Seriously, you should meet Chris Yoder. He is pretty spiffy.

I’d had no idea this many Nagpurians went to church. This was the only church I was aware of in the city, but even accounting for the scarcity of places to celebrate Christmas, I was shocked to see the turnout for midnight mass. People spilled out of the cathedral, which was literally packed beyond capacity. Somehow we made our way under the church’s roof, and our group was let through until we had seats in the two frontmost pews.

This wasn’t the kind of crowd I was used to in India. People stared at us of course, but something was different in their expressions. There were the usual looks of shock at seeing foreigners, but also something more. On their faces was pity, with a hint of understanding, something I’d never seen flashed in my direction. The curiosity was apparent in their eyes. For once, the silent-stated question wasn’t “Who are you?” but “Why are you spending Christmas here?”

I think that last question dawned on some of us as the organ blared out and the choir sang. What were we doing here?

We looked in front of us: A priest was talking about Christmas. The high-ceilinged cathedral was decorated for the holiday. There was even a tree – a real Christmas tree!

Just like home.

We looked behind us: Rows of Indians sat watching the service, not one a familiar face. Outside, the street didn’t look like snow had ever fallen on it. Two-wheelers, not four-wheelers, were parked in abundance beyond the open doors.

Nothing like home.

We looked beside us.

For once, it wasn’t our families sitting by our sides as Christmas Eve turned into Christmas Day. But it might as well have been a family. Caught between continents, between families, between homes, who did we have but each other?

For the second time that night, we sang Silent Night. Compared to our light-hearted rendition at PC Club, the song at the church was accompanied by a melancholy, albeit oddly cathartic air. Afterwards, many went to be blessed by a priest, half of us completely unfamiliar with the custom. When we returned to our seats at the end of the service, about a dozen Indians came to wish us Merry Christmas, and only one asked for a picture.

Is it really worthwhile to report that almost each of us hugged each other as we left the church around 1 a.m. on Christmas Day? At least five of us were crying in earnest, even those who were unaccustomed to such Christmas traditions. As we stood together at the end of the night, it was as though we had weathered a great storm where the precipitation came from people’s eyes, not the sky above.

When we arrived at the Khatri’s house that night, Pooja noticed “the gents” – Jordan, Jakob and I – were among the few with dry eyes. “Why is that?” she asked.

See, I’m not the type of person to outwardly express their sadness. Only at select moments on this exchange have I even come close to tears – before my flight to Nagpur after ten hours in the Mumbai airport in July, after Mayank left home in September, and while talking to my mom in October, hearing her voice for the first time in three months.

I felt compelled to respond to Pooja’s comment. “Just because there’s not water coming out of my eyes doesn’t mean I don’t miss my family!” Because, dry eyes or not, I really did.

And so did every other exchange student I was with that night.

There’s a chalkboard at Modern School onto which inspiring sayings are often written. One came to mind as I looked back on our Christmas night:

“Shared sorrow is half the pain, and shared happiness is twice the joy.”

We shared a lot with each other that night – our food, our homes, our personal stories, our personal space. We shared in our sorrow and we shared in our happiness. Essentially, we were sharing ourselves.

In spite of all the reasons I had to be sad, that’s why I was happier than I’d ever been on Christmas Eve.

Four hours after falling asleep, the alarm on my watch woke me around seven on Christmas morning. There was no rush downstairs towards a thickly ornamented Christmas tree, no pile of presents off which to rip red wrapping paper, no cold cocoa left half-sipped on the dining table next to a thank you note from Kris Kringle.

But why focus on what this Christmas didn’t offer when there was so much more that it did?

The product of the past day’s media coverage had been manifested in the morning’s paper. I was pictured posing with the others, my palms together over my head for no reason but the aesthetics of the photo. Two other pictures were shown with the accompanying article, but the highlight was the given caption. France, Germany and Canada had apparently been forgotten; according to the caption, the performing Rotary students apparently hail not only from the USA, but also from Sweden and Japan.

So what was it? Did we get new exchange students overnight, or had there been some secret cross-continental emigrations courtesy Santa’s sleigh?

Journalistic inaccuracies laughed aside, we said goodbye and began our search for separate autos home. Amanda, Anaïs, Nisha and I decided to share a ride, given the proximity of our homes. With activity on the streets this time of day scarce, finding an auto was proving to be a challenge. Rarely did anything pass us on the street, let alone an auto. The few our eyes could catch were just taunting us, full and unable to accommodate us. It was a solid ten minutes before we flagged down an auto driver that would give us a reasonable rate for a ride home.

Halfway home, that is.

The rickshaw came to a stop on an empty street, and I knew as soon as the driver turned to us and said “No petrol” that I had another signature moment in my already memorable holiday. I doubt I’ll ever again be stranded in a rickshaw on Christmas, and as the situation resolved itself minutes later when another rickshaw came by, I was slightly disappointed. Couldn’t there be some unexpected twist or epic encounter, like our ride getting stuck in quicksand or chased by a horde of wild elephants?

It was in relative peace that I jogged home from where the second rickshaw dropped us. I could have walked, but it seemed more prudent to run as quickly as possible. Once again I became self-conscious, wondering what the few locals on the street were thinking of the blue-jean clad foreigner jogging through Nagpur on Christmas morning. Patches of sun made their way through the trees and cool air blew softly across my face. Normally caught in a tangled mass of pillows, blankets and dreams this time of day, the morning’s atmosphere was another blatant, refreshing contrast to my ordinary life.

Most members of my host family were not yet awake, but I wished Merry Christmas to those who were. Running on four hours of sleep, the double bed in my room tantalized me with its comfort, but I sat on it quite upright and finished wrapping my gift."

Polio Clinic Photos

I know that these are way over due but I'd totally forgotten to put them up. I was trying to think of something to write about my next post and decided to go through my photos and post a random collection of ones from throughout the year that I hadn't yet when I noticed these ones. They are from the polio vaccination clinic that I helped at in January. (Under the title Lohri and my Cousin's Birthday)

Me with Dr. Sumitra Shidhaye who I helped out for the day.   Photo Credit: Ritu Grover.  
People "lining up" to see the other doctor who dealt with more serious cases and medicines while we did check ups and minor cold and fever medicines on the children as well as mothers.


Children were brought by mothers, grandmothers, fathers, etc.

Some little kids were even brought by their older siblings.


Toys and prizes were given out like balls and there "Michael Jackson" glasses the boy is holding.

The table where the actual drops were administered.

Friday, February 4

Senior Farewell

Today was the 12th class students' last day of school. There had been a farewell dance and party for them earlier in the year when I was on the South Tour. Today we had an assembly instead of sixth period and the 12th graders got to wear their hair down and brought cameras to school which are both usually against the rules a lot of the girls wore jeans and makeup to school which they usually don't do.
One of the girls in my class conducted the ceremony so she introduced those who were speaking and gave a short speech herself. The 12th class teacher (like a homeroom teacher) spoke briefly, then one of the students had been selected to speak on the class' behalf sharing lessons and memories that they all had. Finally, our principal gave a speech. We started with talking about success and how that can mean different things to different people. How earning a lot of money can be considered successful to some and maybe not to others. I thought he was going to go on to say that success could just mean being happy with what you're doing or have done. Instead he said that success for some could mean being a highly paid employee of a company, especially a multinational company while for others it night mean being the owner and employer of a company. He said that personally he suggested students shoot for the latter. He then went on to give the students advice. The piece of advice that stuck out the most to me and that he lingered on for the longest was this: when you see and advertisement for a position in a multinational company that looks like it pays very well remember that if you are sent abroad that money won't actually be very much and that you should not get cheated by these companies who are getting a deal out of you. The students were given trophies and report cards for their farewell. After the ceremony we had a very nice lunch by school standards. The seniors all ate at decorated tables with flowers in the middle of the dining hall.