11.22.12 - Jaipur

Today is Thanksgiving, but wouldn't know it if it weren't for Facebook friends' posts.  No turkeys to be eaten, no football to be watched (not that I am disappointed about that).  Yesterday I decided to do some exploring around the neighborhood where I am staying.  After walking for a few hours, I stopped for some pista (pistachio ice cream) and turned back.  I mostly stayed on the main streets as not to get too lost, and there wasn't much except a lot of the same shops over and over again.  Shops selling bangles, tires, tiny general stores selling chips, drinks and snacks, and many many sweet shops. I turned around and found a small veg restaurant where I stopped for a break.  Dirt floors, no lights, 4 small tables.  It was once to have a break, but it is feeling too late to do much today.  When I return to the hotel, I remember that I am to go to the family's house where we will go to a friend's son's 3rd birthday party in a temple in the mountains.  They get the gifts ready and we pack into small auto rickshaw.  At this point there are 9 of us including the driver.  A man with us this time, I believe to be Chander's brother.  He asks me how old I am, and when I say 28, he looks at me with disbelief.  He says I must be at least 50 years old.  Give me a fucking break.  Although I know better than to take anything like that to heart, his insistence and rudeness annoys me and sort of sets the tone for the evening, at least for me.  To some extent I am still feeling a little overwhelmed from trying to make pleasantries with people with whom I do not share a common language, I am not excited to be toted around and introduced to another 100 people.  The brother, speaking a handful of English words, keeps barking Hindi words at me, even though we have already discussed that i do not speak Hindi and he does not approve.  I look straight ahead and completely ignore him the rest of the evening, except when I try to light him on fire with my eyes, unsuccessfully I might add.  I am disappointed to have met such a different breed within the same family, and although I understand there are cultural differences, I do not accept that as an excuse for his actions and words, as I have not met anyone else like this.  I feel uncomfortable when they spew, wondering if it is about me.

After what seems like an hour ride up and down, through different neighborhoods and during rush hour, we make it to Hanuman Temple (the monkey God).  Into the temple itself, we go and make puja, prayer.  THere is a short ritual where some ash is eaten then dusted in hair.  I only pretend to put it in my mouth.  Then a bell is rung and we make our way to a next-door hall where the party is underway.  The touching of feet and knees of friends are exchanged as a sign of respect and I am introduced to a few more people, but I think Sunita and Maya are able to gauge my mood and do not over do it this time.  The mother of the birthday boy is Santosh, the friend who was waiting for me at dinner the night I chose not to stop by, and I am reminded over and over again.  I apologize, but want to move on.  We sit down on long runners throughout the temple, where we are served dinner.  It is another variation of the same thing I have been eating:  dal, curry, chapatthi, rice.  Except this time it is runny and has no flavor.  I have told them I am not hungry but they insist.  I eat as much as I can and the women sit in a circle to gossip for some time.  Children run around the party, chasing and teasing each other. SOme point and laugh at me, in a good humored curious way.  Some come up to me and shake my hand, and practice the few English words they have been taught, "Hello, what is your good name," and "Thank you, very nice to meet you."  Santosh, the birthday boy's mother gives Sunita and Maya a gift, as customary for birthdays, which consists of a sari, bangles, bindis and money.  She gives me money as well, a sign of respect.  Although only 10 Rupees (20 cents), it is hard to accept but I try to gracefully.  We don't stay terrible long as I was worried about, and take a  long journey back into town by rickshaw, this time with 10 people.  Halfway between the hotel and their house, Ia m dropped and they ask me to come over tomorrow, and I tell them I probably won't but will see them soon.  I sleep.

Today I awake feeling better, but still needing a break.  I take my time getting ready, first reading some Indian newspaper regarding the hanging of a Pakistani terrorist, tidying up my room.  I have woken at 7:00 am for almost the past week, getting into an early morning routine.  I decide to walk the other way, this time into the city, over a very long and steep bridge.  I want to get something for Nandini's 6th birthday, and decide the mall will be the best place to buy her something that can't just be bought at the shop down the street from her house.  Crossing the busy streets is a bit scary, but I am getting more daring and confident.  I have learned they key is confidence, waiver and you will not make it alive.  I enter a mall where security does a quick pass with their metal detector.  It is similar to a mall in America, except more compact with three or 4 floors in a circle-ish shape.  I find an office type store where I buy art supplies, sketch paper and a coloring book.  I walk around for some time and head back over the bridge to the hotel.  I call my mother and father, and it is good to talk to them.  They are in Colorado for the holiday and I tell them I miss them terrible.  Although only having been in India for a week and a half, I have been away from home for almost an entire month.  Time flies when you're having fun.  While wondering what to do for the rest of the afternoon, Sunita and her mother and brother arrive to invite me to her brother's wedding, which is on the 29th, while the ring ceremony is on the 27th.  Then Sunita tells me I must go with here, she has more mehindi to do on my arms before I leave for Pushkar in the morning.  

More mehindi, more masala tea.  We sit and I show them my Learn Hindi book and try to recite some of the words but fail miserably.  Maya cooks in the kitchen and we sit outside the door.  I am getting more and more comfortable every day, just being there.  Not always talking, although sometimes trying to have a conversation.  A mouse hops through the sitting area and I scream and freak out while everyone else just shrugs.  Later Chander Shakar sits with us and the mouse runs through again, and he says the mouse will walk freely because he knows he will not get hit with pot.  The mouse doesn't scurry like American mice, it hops furiously, like the spider I saw once in Kochi, both managing to make contact with me for a few steps.  Maya takes me to her friend Santosh' house where she does more mehindi up my arm, then feeds me dal, corn chapatthi and raw onions.  Her and her mother give me more gifts, bracelets and anklets.  I am shown Santosh and Gopal's wedding album, this being about the 6th I have seen.  All more beautiful than the last.  

Home for a long rest, and by this time I have forgotten that it was even Thanksgiving!  This beats my expectation of sitting all along is a dingy hotel room, all alone with nothing to eat, dreaming about and missing my family and friends.

Tomorrow:  Off to the Pushkar Mela, camel fair!