On Practice

My yoga practice is a comfort for me when I travel. Sometimes when things get hectic or I'm feeling a bit off balance, it's nice to move in and out of familiar postures. This is more true now that I practice ashtanga, a style of yoga that allows me to fall into the ritual and rhythm of the same poses in the same order day after day.

Two days ago, I practiced yoga publicly for the first time in India at the campus gym. Now while I'm used to being the only black person practicing yoga in a room of practitioners from another racial group (Asian in Hong Kong, mostly white in the US), this is the first time I've had the experience of being the only black person practicing yoga in a room of non-practitioners from another racial group. Oh yeah, that's right. I rolled out my mat and the 7 or 8 staff members at the gym gathered at the door to stare at me.

Now I recognize why this would be a spectacle. If the shoe were on the other foot, I'd want to check out the American girl who was interested in doing yoga in the campus gym. But let's just say it was really intimidating having an audience. But what to do? I couldn't roll up my mat and go home. Instead I brought my hands to heart center, then inhaled arms up, look thumbs.

This morning when my alarm went off at 6:50 am I just couldn't get my eyes open. Even though I wanted to practice, I figured I just needed more sleep. At 7:15 a woman knocked on the door to clean our rooms. I got up to let her in but my eyes still felt heavy. Since I was already out of bed, I figured I should just brush my teeth and get going. I went to the sink, splashed some water on my face, and looked up into the mirror to find that in fact, my eyes actually couldn't open. Well at least one eye couldn't. It was swollen shut. My best guess is that I got a mosquito bite on my eyelid and reacted poorly to it.

As I looked like Frankenstein, I figured I shouldn't head over to the gym and terrify the small children who happened along my path. And with my eye in its condition, I couldn't read or watch a movie or anything really. What to do?

I shoved my suitcase out of the center of the room. Rolled out my mat. Brought my hands to heart center. Inhale arms up, one eye look thumbs.

Finding a New Home Away From Home

My colleagues and I are currently staying at the girls hostel that is associated with the research institution where we are working. It is basically a dormitory but I have come to nickname it the nunnery (others have referred to it as a prison). When we arrived we were given a 10pm curfew (for our own safety, of course), but when we missed the deadline by 4 minutes on Saturday night, it was scaled back to 9pm.

My favorite part of the day is when we go to have a meal in the canteen. It reminds me of one of the final scenes of the Sound of Music when the head nun is leading them through the dark corridors and locking and unlocking gates behind them. It's sort of like that. The warden (this is actually what they call her) leads us through the first floor of the hostel and unlocks the gate into the canteen. It must stay locked because the canteen is co-ed and there is a fear that boys will sneak in.

When discussing the restrictive rules to our supervisor, he told us without any irony "too much freedom, leads to trouble."So as you can guess, my colleagues and I have been looking for alternate housing. While finding accommodations in a foreign city is always hard, in Bhubaneswar it is particularly daunting. First of all, since this is not a big tourist or expat destination city, there are very few furnished apartments on the market. Those that do exist, prefer to have tenants who can sign on for at least a year. Further complicating matters is that we are four women. And landlords are not willing to rent to unmarried women (apparently, we might start a brothel or something with all of our unbridled freedom).

We tried looking for guesthouses and hotels that might be suitable and were directed to Utkal Guest House. We didn't know ahead of time that it was also a marriage bureau. For those unfamiliar, a marriage bureau is a place where parents trying to arrange marriages for their children go to get help finding a match. It's like a corporate matchmaker, just bring your child's horoscope.

When we walked into the guest house/marriage bureau there was a calendar of the gods on one wall of the room and a poster of what looked like an x-rated Indian film on the other. The actual guest rooms were OK, a little musty and shabby. But then we looked up to see that there was a red light bulb over the beds. Hilarious. Needless to say we're still at the nunnery, exploring other options.

First Impressions of Bhubaneswar, Orissa

I arrived in Bhubaneswar last Saturday and the city felt so different from Delhi, it was hard to believe I was in the same country. Sure, the drivers flouted the rules with the same intensity as those in Delhi, but the similarities basically stopped there. Bhubaneswar has huge stretches of green space, uncrowded streets, and murals using the Warli painting style. Warli is apparently based on a pictorial written language used by some of the indigenous populations in India.

Another striking difference is the language. While many people in Bhubaneswar speak Hindi and/or English, the main language used is Oriya. The curly scripts of the language could be seen on signs throughout the city.

And overall, the city has more of a suburban/residential feel. I felt particularly inclined to take a picture of this block because it reminded me of the opening sequence from the Golden Girls.

Snapshots of Delhi

So for a whole week I have been without phone and Internet. I'm already in Orissa (more on that later) but I wanted to first post some photos from Delhi.

This is from Khan Market. It's filled with shops and eateries. It may not look like it from this photo but it's a bit ritzy. Apparently, the real estate here is the fourth highest in Asia. I went here on my first day to buy an India-appropriate wardrobe.

On the second day of orientation we visited Humayun's tomb. Pre-dating the Taj Mahal this was built under the orders of Hamida Banu Begum, Emperor Humayun's widow.

Another photo from the complex.

And finally a photo of my work colleagues (Lisa, Deepika, Saryu) and I at a party that UNICEF hosted for us on our second night.

New Chick in Town

I once heard somewhere that there is a special technique for introducing new chicks to an already established coop. In the middle of the night, you must sneak the chicks in, being careful not to wake the others. The next morning the chickens will wake up and instantly accept the chicks, wrongly believing that the new arrivals had always been there. Bring the new chicks in during the day, however, and the newbies will be pecked at and harassed by the rest of the flock.

Arriving in Delhi last Tuesday, I could not help but think of this. Two other UNICEF interns and I emerged from the airport at about 10:30 pm, and we piled ourselves and two months worth of luggage into a taxi cab. As we braced ourselves against the high-speed traffic, the chaotic round abouts, and the aggressive honking, we made our first dim impressions of India. By the time we reached the International Youth Centre (a confusing journey that required our driver to ask for directions multiple times), all was dark and quiet. A man behind the reception desk handed us our keys and almost silently we made our way to our rooms.

For the next three days, in a haze of jet lag, we were ushered from one air conditioned room to another, as the UNICEF staff offered lectures to help orient ourselves to India, UNICEF and the work we will be doing over the summer. We were eased into our surroundings, not really exploring the more populated areas of the city till the end of orientation. By that time, we felt pretty secure with wandering around on our own, and Delhi in its hectic, carefree sort of way seemed more than willing to accept us.