I went to Goa for a few days with some friends from college. It’s an awesome place if you like hanging out on beaches, cheap shopping, riding motorcycles, and clicking pictures. Oh, and you can get a King’s beer for the equivalent of about fifty cents. Plz enjoy some snaps I took with my manual Pentax
I also set up a Flickr account because I’m really into conforming.
Some of you have already seen this, video but I’m posting it anyways. I’m studying abroad in India right now and the program I’m here with wanted me to write a REALLY long big post for them about my impressions pre and post coming to Mumbai, but I thought a cool video would be more fun. If I have time, I’d like to make some more videos while I’m here. I’ll let you know if I do
And now for the short update:
I just finished all of my courses and exams and decided to stay in India until Christmas. I got a really sweet internship with a film and television production company, and I’ve been unsuccessfully hunting for an apartment. It’s nearly impossible to find listings without posting a broker, subletting does not exist here, and convincing someone to give you an apartment for two months is basically a waste of time, but I’m still trying. Wish me luck!
Also, I’m going to get better about posting now. I promise.
I was just minding my own business, strolling through an empty plaza and ignoring some dumb boy, when suddenly hundreds of people dressed in matching outfits popped up out of nowhere and started dancing in unison and singing about the dumb boy and me. Men playing instruments flooded in from nearby homes, women decked out in lavishly decorated sarees twirled in from the streets, and I couldn’t help but join in and have a few awkwardly long I-love-you-but-I-shouldn’t-but-I-have-to-but-I-can’t moments with the dumb boy.
It happens more often than you think. Proof:
But in all seriousness, this dance is called Garba. It originated in the state of Gujarat, and is most widely performed during a festival called Navratri, which is right around the corner. Navratri is a nine-night/ten-day festival in which people dance to Garbas and another one, involving sticks, whose name escapes me. I was told that these dances used to go until like 5am, which is a bfd in Indian culture. The dances are meant to worship the mother goddess, and people get REALLY into them (i.e. the energetic bunch in the clip above).
I had a dance lesson today so I could learn some of the moves in preparation for the festival. Let’s just say my teacher was pretty impressed with my natural talent and I’m thinking about going pro.
Last week there was a festival called Dahi Handi (also known as Krishna Janmashtami) which celebrates the birthday of Krishna, an avatar of the God Vishnu.
People in the state of Maharashta, where I am now, have the BEST way of celebrating. There’s a legend that says when Krishna was little, he loved buttermilk. To keep him from drinking it all, his mom would put it in a pot and tie the pot really high up. So, Krishna got a group of his friends together, made a human pyramid, and broke the pot so they could all share the delicious treat inside.
To commemorate this and to celebrate Krishna’s playfulness on Dahi Handi, Maharashtan men tie a pot to a decorated rope really high up, make a human pyranmid (sometimes 8 or 9 tiers high), and the person at the very top (either a kid or a really small guy) breaks the pot with a coconut or some other blunt object. If he is successful, the pot breaks and the milk pours down on everyone as a celebration of victory through teamwork. If they don’t get it, they only get a few more tries.
The Handi is the clay pot
Dahi Handi - The human pyramid
Because of the current political tension and recent bomb blasts, most human pyramid locations kept their event times a secret, so I didn’t get to see it in person. My friend and I ran around for like an hour that night trying to find one, but no luck.
Here’s a video to give you an idea of what it’s like:
Indian women sifting through stacks of beautiful sarees
Sarees are really beautiful, traditional dresses worn by Indian women. It’s comprised of a blouse, a petticoat, a couple strategically placed safety pins, and a VERY long piece of fabric which is wrapped around in a specific manner exposing just your midriff and your arms.
There was a big dance a few weeks ago, so decided that was the perfect excuse to get a saree.
Saree shopping entails running around to find a fabric you like, having someone practice drape it on you, getting approval from the dozen people you brought with to help you pick just the right one, finding a matching petticoat, optionally buying extra fabric for the blouse (the main piece of fabric already includes a few extra feet at the end which can be used for a basic blouse), bringing it to a tailor to get a runner stitched to the main piece of fabric and to get the blouse measured and stitched, and then finally picking it up a few days later.
Saree Option #1
Saree Option #2
I love sarees. I felt like a princess wearing this at the dance.
I was cruising around Burrp, an Indian version of Yelp, and found a nearby event called “Beer and BBQ Festival.” What American doesn’t like beer and bbq? So I clicked on it and stumbled upon this description:
Beer & BBQ Festival Euro Asian style at Fat Cat Kitchen & Bar. Choose from salad, smoked tofu, broccoli & shitake mushroom, plum cured chicken drumstick, citrus sova Tiger prawns and more.
When I clicked on “Beer & BBQ Festival” I was picturing something more like… PBR and ribs. Hahahaha
If there were more meat-eating, beer-loving people here, I would open up a proper American-style restaurant and show India how a real BBQ is done – 4TH OF JULY STYLE.
Saturday was Raksha Badhan, the first of many festivals coming up here in India. On Raksha Badhan, brothers and sisters remember their love for each other.
These bracelets are called rakhi. On Raksha Badhan, the sister puts one of these bracelets, tikka (red powder that goes on your forehead), rice (representing prosperity), and a candle-ish thing on a silver plate. Then she takes the plate, circles it around his head a few times, blessing him, puts the tikka on his forehead, and ties the rakhi on his right wrist. This is to remind him that he has to protect his sister for the rest of her life. Then the brother and sister hug each other and feed each other sweets and the brother gives his sister a gift like money, chocolate, or for the more adult siblings, something like a laptop, as a thanks for the blessing.
Plz enjoy the cutest display of Raksha Badhan everrrrrrrr:
If you had told me four years ago, when I was starting to apply to colleges, that before I graduated I would visit 11 new countries spanning two continents, I would have said you were out of your fucking mind. But, several impulsive decisions, ungodly sums of student loans, and many worn out pairs of Converse later, here I am finishing my last semester of school in Mumbai, India.
This will be the longest I’ve stayed in one place since… I don’t even know when. I’ll do my best to explain everything to you, but there aren’t enough words in English to describe everything adequately.
Plz enjoy some intro pictures of my hostel, my school, and the area I’m living in (it’s called Matunga)!
If there are any myths you want confirmed/busted, places you want to see pictures of, questions you want answered, drop me a line on my blog’s facebook page.
I was a starry-eyed girl with big dreams and a taste for an adventure, and what an adventure it has been. I hopped into my parents’ minivan in the small coastal Rhode Island town where we were vacationing. After a 45-minute drive to Providence, I hopped a bus that would take me to Logan Airport in Boston. According to the original plan, I was supposed to fly from Boston to O’Hare to Delhi to Mumbai. The storms in Chicago threw off all the flights going in. My flight was delayed two and a half hours. It was also overbooked and I ended up getting bumped back two more flights and walking about four miles between gates, thereby missing my first connection to Delhi. After seven hours I finally got on a flight to Chicago, my parents started driving back to Chicago early, and my uncle let me sleep over at his place because my mom had my house keys. My cab driver from the airport was so smelly I was literally almost suffocating with the windows rolled down. It was as if my dad had finished working out and then sat in a hot cab cooking for eight hours. Yes, I know it’s not his fault, but it was smelly nonetheless.
The next day I got to O’Hare, now scheduled to leave on that day’s flight to Dehli, got dropped off at the wrong terminal, found the right terminal, exchange all my dollars for rupees, and waited patiently at the Delhi gate. It was overbooked. I didn’t get on. Again. When the woman at the counter saw me burst into tears, she offered to help me get to India. She pushed me onto a flight to Brussels, which I also ended up not being able to get onto. The man at the counter told me to sit and wait for a call from baggage claim about my bags.
After a half hour, I asked someone else at the counter about my bags, and she told me to go down to baggage claim and ask them. So I went down there, and they told me I was supposed to wait upstairs for a phone call, and I should sit and wait at the carousel for an hour because they’d show up there. My dad came to get me. The bags never showed up on the carousel. I waited at baggage claim for six hours while my dad went around and had nearly everyone in baggage service looking for my bags. They were no where to be found. Feeling defeated, I went home.
In the morning I’ll know if my bags ended up in Brussels or Delhi, and then in the evening I will 100% FOR SURE be on a flight to Mumbai. Possibly with two new bags of new stuff.
I haven’t cried this much in a really long time, but hey, third time’s a charm I guess. Wish me luck!
Reality hit me as soon as I got on the 94 ramp and I cried on and off all the way to Baraboo. It was the first time I had time to think about anything in weeks because I’ve been so stressed and busy with everything. I ended up staying at a hotel because of mysleepiness/theweather. Right now I’m curled up in my super comfy hotel bed right now thinking about life.
As much as I complained about living in Minnesota, it is a huge part of who I am now. It’s where I became an adult, figured out who I was, and had a ton of really fuckin crazy adventures with really fuckin awesome people.
I’ll never forget the bikes, the hipsters, the classes, Tea Garden, JP2, my three-year internship, the concerts, the parties, KUST, the roadtrips, the dancing, the study nights, and most of all the people.
Everyone I met in Minnesota has made an impact on my life. I know the people who meant the most will stay in touch, I miss you so much already. SKYYYYPE MEEE. I’m sure I’ll be back in Minnesota someday, but I have no idea when.
For the next month, I’ll be in Chicago, Rhode Island, and possibly Cleveland, and then I leave for five months in India. So, while this chapter of my life is coming to a close, I have so many amazing and exciting plans ahead of me.
Finally, I will never be a Vikings or a Twins fan — but go Wild
For those of you who don’t already follow me on Facebook or Twitter, here’s what’s going down:
After studying abroad in Ireland and Turkey, serving as an ambassador in Northern Ireland, and spending a month backpacking by myself in Europe, I’m ready for something bigger and more challenging. I’ll be finishing up my International Business major in Mumbai, India, taking classes for four months, and then I’ll be on my own in Gujarat working at a month-long internship.
Similar to last summer, I’ll be blogging daily with stories, pie charts, and shit tons of photos.
Want to come along with me for the ride?
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Maybe God will grant me the powers of mystical creatures
God brought him forth out of Egypt; he hath as it were the strength of an unicorn: he shall eat up the nations his enemies, and shall break their bones, and pierce them through with his arrows. Numbers 24:8, KJV
Maybe the boy I had a crush on all throughout high school will realize he loved me the whole time
he knows who he is
Or maybe Justin will just get me something nice
In any case, here’s to another year of new friends, new adventures, and happiness beyond my wildest dreams. Thanks for being a part of it.
I won tickets to a Minnesota Wild game on Monday for Tuesday’s game. Attractive men with testosterone pumping through their veins skating around, beating each other up to get a puck in a net? Yes please.
In all seriousness, I do like watching sports. I’ve been to a couple college hockey games that were fun, but this was my first real Major League Hockey game. IT WAS AWESOME. They scored as soon as my friend and I walked in (clearly because they were trying to impress me).
The final score was 5-2, including an empty netter (WOO!). Afterwards, I declared myself an official Minnesota Wild fan, to the horror of my Chicago-bred family, and was subsequently disowned by many of the Chicagoans I know and love.
People in the state of Maharashta, where I am now, have the BEST way of celebrating. There’s a legend that says when Krishna was little, he loved buttermilk. To keep him from drinking it all, his mom would put it in a pot and tie the pot really high up. So, Krishna got a group of his friends together, made a human pyramid, and broke the pot so they could all share the delicious treat inside.
