Girls School, production, and Homesickness

It's true. I'm a bit homesick. I'm not sure for what exactly. I have met a group of really awesome people, who are kind and very happy. The world here does not , for me anyway, revolve around any sort of scene or drama. The nights are warm, and full of laughing and working on media. In general, this is a living fantasy land for me. It's full of color and joy.

Perhaps what has made me homesick begins with a trip to a girls' school just outside of the city. The school is for young women who are making the transition from labor to education. Many of them come from extreme situations involving arranged child marriage, labor, the loss of one or both parents, abuse- it is an endless list of horrors.

I found myself holding several competing ideas in my mind the entire time. The reminder to myself that these stories are extremes; The culture of arranged marriage does not contain within it as a rule being forced to marry a 35 year old man when you are 12. I attended a wedding that was an arranged couple, both of whom are educated and loved by their parents. Working as a child does not contain within it as a rule that the conditions are despicable and the work debilitating and miserable. The boy who sells chai at the gate is neither likely to be without a future nor is he unhappy. On the other hand, there are children who work in miserable conditions here, especially young women. Even one child forced to marry a man instead of being allowed to continue her education is a crime. On top of this, the young girls who are lucky enough to find their way out of the worst of these situations are, in those situations, the minority. It sounded to me that the ones lucky enough to escape are those girls who are headstrong enough to discard the force of respect for elders and tradition and abandon "duty."

In the face of this I found myself wishing I were home. It is a kind of escapist homesickness. For the time being I wanted to return home where these things are more theoretical musings of my fellow financial aid abusers, over a couple of Pabst before we retire to our Internet machines and cable television, which we enjoy without power outage or the intrusion of a six or seven day work week. I wanted to leave this place, which I confess to being completely in love with most of the time. It was mostly out of a feeling of impossible helplessness- what would be the cost of creating a society capable of supporting 1.4 billion people in a country without child labor, with a stable infrastructure, and a standard of living commensurate with the we have(since everything I see and hear claims that as a goal). In my mind, such a change will come at the cost of culture.

Then, it passed. Because seriously, what the hell do I know? I'll upload some pictures soon.

Developments

I guess I've been in the sun a bit. There is a lot of it here, and it is wonderfully high in the sky.
I wasn't planning on getting one. I've been pretty diligent about covering up and wearing the sunscreen. Then, I got caught up in my search for kites and the kite festivals. Also, I became a little obsessed with seeking images for my video project. Then I noticed that the sun had stopped hurting. Then I started thinking, "hey, I'm closer to the equator here, so there's lots more ozone keeping me from the bad ultraviolet rays that kill you slowly." Is it any wonder that I don't quit smoking? No. It's not. I can talk myself into all sorts of foolish behavior that looks good.

Take for instance the lady on the scooter. Somehow, the image of a woman wearing traditional clothes riding a shiny scooter seems like the quintessential image capture for this city that I am exploring. It is an easy image to capture. I only have to have a camera for ten minutes on the street and there she is. She is
riding the fastest form of transport here, as two wheeled vehicles can slip through the incredible traffic here. The following was shot from a tour bus that we rode in for a day. This is the slow traffic. It also gets faster at the same density on other streets. This just happened to be a busy day in the neighborhood.


The traffic here is the best demonstration of the way it is to be here. Sure, it's crowded. Sure, there seems to be few rules and few rule enforcers. It's not the law here though that governs. It's etiquette, and awareness. People navigate these streets everyday. I have seen fewer accidents here than anywhere in the US and more people traveling the streets, crossing the streets and riding in vehicles to capacity. There are no such things as street signs. There are a few traffic signals, but they mean nothing. When you need to cross the street, you negotiate the traffic. It's really a simple act once you bend your mind around it- you walk forward, if you can't keep going you stay still until you can, and you never walk in front of anything bigger than a passenger car. Right of way is dictated by size. Buses and trucks mean you stand still. Traffic is like water flowing down the streets. Two wheelers are like those little water skippers. horns don't mean "Danger!" They mean "Hi! Here I am, friend, here I am." Drving is a multi-sensory task, eyes forward, all ears. Mirrors? They are a formality- taking time looking in the mirror would most likely mean certain death. You'll hear about it if someone's in your blind spot or behind you.

There is also the subject of maps. Perhaps I have already talked about this, but maps mean nothing here. Space is an extension of personal experience here. To get somewhere new, you ask. Then you move in the direction given, and on approach you ask again and correct for the last reality that you tapped. That's how it works for everyone, not just tourists. I've watched taxi drivers, bus drivers and other people on the street do it. I've been escorted and chatted with to my destination more than once. It's wonderfully communal and social.

Of course, once your look like you've been here, and you're used to looking right before you cross the intersection, it may be time to get a set of small wheels and a helmet and join the crowd. In the appropriate dress of course. I'm thinking this-

Work

. Time slipped right on by the last six days. Suddenly I am in class, and in the city, every night, every day, I can't keep track too easily. I try to keep at this blogging thing, but sometimes, I just fall down.

Mostly things have been busy. I had to register with the police as a foreigner. They took a picture of my irises. I thought it was strange. Mostly I think many things are strange and wonderful here. The incredible boom in construction, and high technology industries, the serious focus on the continuation of development in this area is always in the foreground (or the background, if you're looking literally at my pictures). India in general, and Hyderabad in particular then becomes an incredibly complex confluence of extreme development and extreme population. I am in awe of the incredibly easy way people here accept the continual work. Everyone is always working, from the youngest to the oldest. You're on your way to work, or on your way home from work, or taking a break on Sunday from work. At first it seems like this is no different than at home, but then you realize that the work is a continual process that goes on 7 days a week. It certainly highlights the amount of leisure time one actually enjoys in the developed world.

I am quite in love with the apparent easy going nature of the people here though. The traffic is insane and completely lawless. Actually most things seem completely lawless to this westerner. It is not a rule of law society here, it is a rule of mutually excepted etiquette. While the traffic may seem like a made race, hitting a pedestrian can get you beaten by a mob. This is a fairly just place (on the street- there are other things that may not be so just).

For example, a surly auto-rickshaw driver took us in the wrong direction not so long ago, and when I finally made it clear to him that this was not where we wanted to go, he demanded more money. Not being our fault we refused. He then seemed to give in to our wishes and then drove us to the police station. He said some very animated things to the officers. They looked at me. I said, in the style of the area if not the language "Gachibowli-Gachibowli-Gachibowli" (repetition covers a lot here- and that was the name of the suburb where the university is, far from where he took us). With that, the officers really went after him. To his credit, I am fairly certain he never lied. The officers also told us to pay another price, because the price we were going to pay was low. It was so very perfect. By the time the scene was complete, there was a crowd (arguments are also crowd sourced and debated here) and several people wanted to make sure that we understood that we had done nothing wrong, and that the police had fixed it and taken the cabbie's number down to prevent further problems.

Classes have begun, and I am winding my way through a very foreign set of classroom navigational rules. I'll lay it out over the weekend for you. Now I have got to get.

The New Year

It's finally here. Last night I went to a posh restaurant with all of the people from the CIEE program for our welcome dinner. It was very nice. The food was good. Very good. The DJ was good. The drinks were unbelievably expensive! I ordered a whiskey and seltzer, thinking nothing of it, said "sure, make it a double" with a smile. 950 rupee!! That's around $25! I couldn't believe it.

The area surrounding the Hi-Tec City is ridiculously expensive. Hi-Tec City is the city that is growing up around several technology company campuses that house such household names as Microsoft, Oracle, and Dell. The influx of building and employment capital is fueling an affluent population in the middle of this sprawling city of 6 million people. We ate in the rich section of the city called Banjara Hills. As we came into this part of the city, the shops changed from the usual storefronts to the large glass faced urban facades of bright brand names and larger than life advertising photos. It was such a strange change. The only thing that didn't change was the look of the people on the streets and the chaos of driving.

Later, after dinner we returned to the Study in India Program guest house where I am living. We collected ourself and then went over to the men's hostel for a real college New Years rooftop party. It was wonderful. Not only are we as a group from all over, but we were joined by students from India, Iran, and Yemen.

Here in India, public affection between men and women is not considered appropriate. At midnight though, this translated into Indian men who drunkenly hugged each other screaming happy New Year. They also came over to me and hugged me. SOmetimes I thought they were going to weep with New Years joy. I was pretty happy about all of this, since being in the US and being a pretty touchy feely kind of person, I was always a little disappointed in the taboo of breaking the personal space of other men at a celebration. I have always hated the homophobic inference in both directions- hugging doesn't have to have a sexual component, in fact most of the time it really isn't about sex at all, regardless of the genders involved in this simplest act of connection.

I don't have a lot of pictures sorted out from that night yet. There are a few that deserve sharing, and I will most likely re-edit this post to show what kind of a group we were that night. It was all fun, and fireworks and party. On a roof. In India. I think I have more to say about last night, but right now, I just wanted to make a post that says 2008 really opened well as far a I am concerned, and I can't wait for February when this dreaded Year of the Pig ends in earnest.

Classes will begin soon, and I have to remember that I am here to get some schooling and make two shorts for my follow-on project. Both things are gelling rather quickly, and I am hoping to keep from getting caught off guard. Two shorts and 16 credits is a pretty heavy load for a semester, plus the fact that I am more and more fascinated by the city that surrounds the University.

The people that I meet from here are so very open. I cannot wait to spend more time getting to know as many of them as possible. Last night's party made me think that I may need to change my departure date so I could stay here a little longer without having to worry about this structured schedule. Also it would be nice to exercise the knowledge I will have of the area by the time it's time to leave.

Ideas of Disorder in Hyderabad

I left campus yesterday afternoon with Caitlin and took a ride in the Auto Rickshaw. I prefer to call them travel by Tuk but it's a personal reason, and no one seems interested in joining me in that designation. Who cares. No one else has been riding yet. Cate was a fearless companion to be sure, buying fabric to put in her room on the wall (the walls are a bit stark and dirty), taking side trips without the slightest protest. It was funny to see the worry on her face, but she didn't acknowledge it openly and just forged ahead. Very cool.

The edge of the city was daunting. The scene was also very, well, foreign. Mostly I have to let the photographs speak for themselves, as I cannot begin to categorize how I felt about most everything here. In the simplest sense, I fall back upon the visual, and say that the color scheme here is so fascinating; it bears up under intensely saturated scenes, with color popping out of some of the most unlikely places. Joyous bursting reds and greens with gold accents and mirrors and embroidery. All the while there's the barefooted amongst the broken glass, men and women hunched over by roadside fires, or sweeping the streets and patios with twig brooms. It may be too romantic, but it's like a heaven opened up and puked all over hell, and no one knows which direction to go in.

There is the usual obvious effect of economic boom descending upon a poorer country; the tent cities, the children hustling or simply asking for money. It's the same as anywhere. The signs by the roadside tell you most often who's got the money that's being sought.

All in all, it is a fascinating trip so far, and the perturbations of ideas I have for work is actually too much. I think i began this post talking about how I would stick to what I care about the mos, the visual, instead of the social and economic. Of course, the two things cannot be separated. In terms of color and light though, this place glows. The air is thick and colors everything and this permeates the environment. The light is from a different kind of sun. The pigments are of a different kind of earth. My things carry a decidedly different palette of colors than everything born in this land, and they look different under this sun.

I don't quite have any culture shock yet, since I am only a tourist and haven't been put in any lany position where I have to do things that I wouldn't try to do at home. I am certain that will change very very shortly though. Then school will start, and I will disappear into that world.

Orion is at 12 o'clock

I arrived at the Study in India Program Guest House in Hyderabad, India at 7pm local time last night. I hadn't really slept in about 40 hours. Some strange airplane dream states. I finally slept today, during an orientation lecture. I had a dream that I had to take my orientation name badge apart, which I attempted to do during the lecture. I later napped from 4 to 8pm. I'm better, but this is still quite dreamy.

The constellation Orion hurts my neck right now. It is directly overhead. I am completely amazed and enthralled by this orientation. It's winter, and the stars are not in their usual places. I find this to be very wonderful.

I have not quite got my pictures organized with this new internet connection/wall plug charging/lack of a hard drive situation, but it's coming. Currently I am contemplating whether or not to follow the directives of the faculty who are watching over us intensely. We have been directed to stay on campus and not to venture into the city. Our house "daddy" Dipankar characterizes the state of the city as one of mourning for Janardhan Reddy, a prominent politician. However, the assistant director Kavitha warns of demonstrations and possibly rioting.

This places me in a bit of an awkward state of conflicting feelings. I have gear. I have my own desires to gather some images of the city. I also don't want to cause any trouble. Also, I don't feel an intense lack of safety here. Certainly, I am a long way from home, and in another culture and don't know crap about crap. Simply put. On the other hand, these are the images that should be gathered.

I am reminded of Marker's Sans Soleil. I want to show you the street, the festivals, the echoes of this ancient culture as it meets modernity. I want to call a taxi and take a tour of the city RIGHT AWAY! For tonight, I will most likely take my binoculars out onto the balcony next to my room and look at the stars in their new positions and contemplate my level of insubordination for the morning.

I find it odd to be here in the aftermath of a terror attack that shook up the country. It is so much like my first visit to NYC, nearly two years after the towers fell. People are shaken. They have strange fears, and predjudices that they sometimes hide, and sometimes fail to hide. Add to this a strange combination of progressive understanding about the unfairness of the caste system, with a daily, obviously unconscious, deferrence to it. There is much to contemplate here, and actually the jet lag is probably helping me be more creative as I consider the forces at work here. I am so completely far from home.

Tomorrow, there will be adapters, pictures, and I do believe a bit of intrigue. Tonight, I am going upstairs, and outside to look at my new stars. Times 10.

Word to my travel mates. There is not a single average one among them. I don't think I could be with a better group of people. Sincerely.

Departure

My plane boards for Frankfurt Germany in about 25 minutes. In a few hours my fancy red phone that has made my life simpler and easier, will be silent for a long time. I will no longer know if I should be checking my email, facebook, myspace, youtube, flickr, aa.com, orbitz.com or any other of the hundreds of alerts spread across 3 email accounts, 4 social networks and the myriad of travel points networks that I belong to. Nothing. Not a peep. Not a text. It's just a pretty little phone book/calculator now.

Oddly enough, to maintain its potential return to power still is going to cost me $5.95 a month.
My phone, it still has a lifeline. For all of my recent detachment, I still give it that. Who am I kidding? I still included my ex-girlfriend in the bulk announcement of my impending silence. The power of modern attachments and ancient attachments are strong equals.

I like airport bars. The service and the prices encourage moderation. As does the company most often . I did meet a guy in the Dallas airport once. He was talking to everybody, back in the corner of the smoking bar. We were all crushed back in the corner huffing down our addiction, eyes burning, sipping $5 cokes and $8 drinks. They knew they had us. The guy was chatting up everyone. He was friendly, and seemed sincere. Of course, as I was leaving I noticed his reach had narrowed in conversation to a very pretty blonde in a business suit. They looked cute together I thought.

Well, It's time to go to Germany. I've spared the pictures of places stateside. We're going to take a little shift now, and start looking for things that are different. See you later. Probably tomorrow morning. From Frankfurt Airport, where they will test my non-smoking resolve.