I almost can’t believe it’s nearly three months since my last entry from up in Mussoorie. It feels like I was in Mussoorie a long time ago, but paradoxically I feel like I just wrote that entry yesterday. Anyway, so much has happened since July that it would be futile to try and sum all of it in one entry. I’ll try and hit the highlights of what has been a crazy journey thus far.

First, when it comes to trips, I have been on many since July. In early August I went to Amritsar (Punjab) for a quick weekend, which was most probably the best trip I’ve been on thus far in India. It was such a last minute excursion that Sudev, Amber, and I basically got the last three tickets on the train the night before leaving, which involved me having to convince a Babu at the Foreign Tourist Bureau that we were in fact tourists and not just students as our visas say. Luckily, because perhaps of my politeness but more probably because of the color of my skin and my mediocre Hindi abilities (Indians trying to hook other Indians up), I was able to get three tickets that had been reserved exclusively for white tourists. Yes.

Anyway, in Amritsar we went to the Pakistani border and watched the hilarious changing-of-guard ceremony that showcases a rather odd side of the tension between India and Pakistan. There is a gigantic gate between the two countries, and we could see Pakistanis on the other side cheering for their country while we on the India side were expected to cheer for “the world’s largest democracy.” The intense displays of nationalism on both sides were at once creepy and inspirational. I suppose it was more friendly than anything else, but the only thing I really have to say is Pakistan, you all need to get a better song. The Indian side had a large collection of nationalistic crap music playing over loudspeakers, but Pakistan, you ought to be ashamed by the ONE SONG that you had on repeat. It consisted of a female voice saying, “Pakistan! Pakistan!...” Good work, Pakistan. India is clearly a better country than you.

After the border, it was off to the Golden Temple, which I simply cannot describe with words, so I won’t. If you come to India, go there, and see for yourself. The splendor of the Golden Temple was nearly matched the amazing special thalis at Brother’s dhaba, which is right near by. How they manage to make a five layer parantha the world may never know, so again, go there, and eat some amazing Punjabi food for yourself.

Other trips include one three weeks ago to Jaipur (Rajasthan) and Agra (UP), which was organized and paid for entirely by EAP. That, of course, also meant the entire group of 40 Delhi EAP students went on the trip, which made it a rather painful experience. However, seeing the Taj Mahal for the second time (last time was five years ago) and just getting out of Delhi for the weekend helped me keep sane. The weekend after that (first one in September) I went on a five day trip to Bombay with Sudev and Amber, about which I’ll comment more at another time.

But aside from traveling, most of my time has been spent in Delhi, where I’ve actually been extraordinarily busy the past few weeks. But if you think I’ve been filling my time studying hard for prestigious Delhi University, you’d be completely and utterly mistaken. Classes are such a joke that I don’t even know where to begin. The professors come about 60% of the time and the students come (or cum as it’s frequently spelled in India—the semen reference is completely lost on Indian Indians, however. But it’s not lost on me. Because I’m 12 years old) about 40% of the time. I guess if you add the two together, that makes 100%, but if you passed third-grade division, you’d know that you can’t just add percentages like that.

But speaking of third-grade, classes at DU (and students) border on retarded/useless/dumb/inane. My favorite professor by far is Shanta Verma, who I have for a Political Science class titled “India and the World.” Queen Shanta, as I respectfully call her, cums to class anywhere from 15 minutes to two hours late, and she expects us to all wait for her silently in our seats. If we don’t, she shouts at us and says motherly shit like “I’ve told you so many times…” Our fear of the Queen has almost led us to appoint someone to stand near the window to wait for her to roll up in her A/C chauffered-driven car and then yell “she’s cumming,” so that we can all scurry back to our seats before she walks in. And I use walk very carefully here. It’s more accurate to say that she struts in like a weird mix of the Iron Lady and Indira Gandhi. And that’s why I like her. She’s a complete and total power woman. It’s hot. In a sick Hilary Clinton kind of way. Yeah, I know I’m fucked up. Deal with it.

However, not everyone is like Queen Shanta. I’m taking a Philosophy class by a raging Gandhi-lover (I’m tempted to throw him a walking stick and call him Mahatma) named K.P. Shankaran, who always shows up on time and is an amazing lecturer. Despite the dumb questions often asked in class by fellow EAP student(s), Shankaran carries on with poise and makes such well-thought out arguments that you really can’t debate with him. Unless you’ve studied Gandhi and Philosophy in general for 20+ years like he has. But overall the class has taught me a lot about Gandhi’s philosophy (which, like a three year-old, is strangely endearing even if it is illogical and naïve), and the lectures fulfill my need to keep my brain from completely becoming a vegetable.

So if I haven’t been spending my time studying/going to class, what have I been so busy with? Theatre. That’s right. Even in India, I’ve managed to sacrifice my GPA, friends, and love life just to fulfill my need to be a stage whore. But at least it’s educational this time since I’m going a play in Hindi with students that are my age that mostly don’t speak English. So I’m meeting Indians around my age while also improving my Hindi, both of which were goals of mine before cumming on this trip. Also, I get to do Ibsen's "Peer Gynt" for the second time, but this time, as mentioned before, in Hindi, so the experience is totally worthwhile even if I have to rehearse four hours day, six days a week.

That's all I have time/the desire to post now, but I'll maybe put some more thoughts down later....

I'm alive and well and will post more later. I promise. Sorry for the being the worst blogger ever. As Chaney would say, now go cry yourself and a lake and drown yourself in it. :)

Sorry to those of you waiting for me to post earlier. I meant to blog on past occasions of checking my email and uploading photos, but to be honest I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Blogging is a chore for me, so I'll probably only do it a couple of times at most unless I really feel compelled.

First things first. My cell phone number in India is 9871804409. From the United States you dial 011-91-9871804409. I would love for you to call me (unless I hate you), but please keep in mind that there is a 12.5 hour time difference between the USA and India. That means that when it's noon in California, it's 12:30 AM in India. Also, I have no voicemail, so if it doesn't go through just try again later or something.

Also, thanks to the many of you who have emailed me wishing me the best or just ranting on about your lives. Thanks. I actually sort of kind of maybe care.

So about this trip I've been on since June 14. First, I went to Taiwan for about four days to visit Nathaniel and Joanna, which was a hilariously good time. I would tell you the details of my many adventures in Taipei and the beach at Fulong, but it seems silly to go back that far since so much has happened since then. Suffice it to say: I had an amazing time going to Taipei 101, eating the most amazing food I've had in my life (with the exception of Indian food at my Dad's birthplace Rattia), riding the buses/MTR throughout the city, going to temples and an air-conditioned ferris wheel, and most of all spending time with Jo and Nathaniel. Thanks again, Jo (and the rest of your family), for inviting me to stay at your place. Taiwan, you touched my heart. And it tickled like a feather.

Then it was off to Bangkok for one day because the airfare was cheaper for me to have a one-night layover in Bangkok than to fly directly from Taipei to Delhi. I went to the hotel at Siam Square, which is basically the shopping zone of Bangkok and crashed at around 1 AM after the flight from Taiwan. The next morning I went to Wat Pho, the gigantic palace next to it, Khao San Road, and quickly got a 30-minute Thai Massage before heading to the airport to catch my flight to Delhi. Even though I wasn't even in Bangkok for 24 hours, I still feel as though I got a relatively good feel of the city (it's a lot like Delhi with fewer scammers and less evident poverty), and I will definitely have to make a trip to Thailand again in the very new future.

And now the moment you've been waiting for. Me arriving in Delhi. Ah yes, Delhi. What a ridiculous city you are. For those of you unfamiliar with India, Delhi is to Washington DC as Mumbai (aka Bombay) is to New York City. Mumbai is the hip, cosmopolitan business center with lots of nightlife, great food, and gigantic skyscrapers (please note that I have never been to Mumbai, so everything I just wrote is heresay, but whatever. I know I'm right). Delhi is the government hub with an amazing Metro (just like DC). Other than that, however, it is a gigantic and chaotic mess of a city with an ever-present burning garbage smell that lurks over the city 24/7. However, Delhi does have much to offer, and I think that after six months of living there I will eventually grow to love the city after I've discovered it's hidden potential.

Now I am in Mussoorie, which is a hill station in the Himalayas near the Uttaranchal State capital of Dehradun (I advise you to look at a map if you are confused), and I'll actually be here for three more weeks. I am brushing up on my child-like Hindi abilities and also learning Urdu and Punjabi script, which is proving to be a suprisingly good time. You can see all of Mussoorie in about 2 hours, but the dearth of stuff to do only provides for more opportunities to practice Hindi with shopkeepers and socialize with the 47 other EAP students.

Random rant: I hate it when people make vast, overarching judgments about a place they have been to for less than two weeks. I hate to pick on white people (I'm actually not racist), but there are just so many of them on the study abroad group I am on that seem to think they have a vast understanding of India from the books they've read and the two weeks they've been here. For example, some who don't even know all of the characters in Hindi think they have the right to say that it is a "rude" language simply because Indians typically do not say "thank you," "your welcome," and other pleasantries that are so common in English. They seem unaware that this is simply a cultural difference and that politeness is very easily conveyed in Hindi through tone of voice. So please, white liberals, stop expecting your American cultural and linguistic values and norms in India, or I'll have to continue schooling you.

I promise I'll write a more focused and detailed account next time. Continuing to grow day by day....

Test.