Winding Down

All of a sudden my time in India is coming to an end. When did that happen? Looking back it all seems to have gone by so quickly. I've got a little more than two weeks left here in the beautiful Himalayas, then a few days in smoggy Delhi. Autumn has come and gone, too. I've finished midterms in all three of my classes, and now it's crunch time again as my final project deadline is approaching. The length of my beard, which I've let grow since returning from Rajasthan almost a month ago, reminds me of the long time past and the short time to come.

Nobody really did anything special for Thanksgiving, but for tomorrow's dinner, supposedly, someone has gone in search of a turkey. Now that Thanksgiving has passed as well, one thing I'm definitely enjoying is the lack of Christmas music. When I come home I'll only have to suffer through four or five days of it, or less if I manage to sleep through it altogether.

A view of the mountains from above my cabin. Nanda Devi (नंदा देवी), the tallest peak in India, is on the right side. The cabin on the right is my Hindi teacher's where we have class on the porch facing the mountains. I might not miss writing exams with cold fingers, but when I come home, I will definitely miss this.

So what's winter like here? Yesterday morning was the first frost. For one thing, the cold air gives an even better view of Nanda Devi. Every night we eat in a bitter cold dining hall. No buildings are heated, so I'm making good use of all the winter clothes I brought—often all at the same time. There's still hardly any rain. I've heard about the flooding in Seattle, and I'm not the least bit jealous. I think if it were any wetter here it'd quickly go from cold to miserable.

Most of the trees are evergreen, even the oaks, to take advantage of the post-monsoon growing season, as cold as it may be. A few non-native species are deciduous, like this one behind the dining hall where local people graze their cows and sheep.

Classes are still enjoyable, even though the workload has been a bit excessive considering the amount we learn just by being here in this place.

Below are some photos from a Forest Ecology class field trip to a “nature trail” being set up below the nearby village Sitla. CHIRAG, the NGO my group is working with, promoted the idea as another way to re-establish the people's connection with the forest, and also to produce revenue for the growing tourism industry. Being winter, the “nature” isn't very captivating but the sunset vista is worth the hourlong trek.

Evan, Josh, Matt, and Adam playing hackey-sack before class.	Our teacher Rajesh giving a lecture about forest management.	The same trail a few days later in the evening.
	The only autumn colors from this vine growing by the trail.
The sun casting rays through the ever-present woodsmoke haze.		A million porchlights after sunset.

I have helped out a little with that nature trail project, making a map with my GPS and trying to take some nice photos that they could possibly use in a brochure. But for the past two weeks, I've been working on my own project. The rural people depend on the forest for their lives and livelihoods, collecting fuelwood, fodder, leaf-litter, timber, and pine resin, grazing their livestock, etc.

The government school in Sitla (शीतला), where there are 150 rowdy kids, 5 classes, 2 rooms, and only one overworked teacher.

Separately, government schools here are severely understaffed. In addition to working with the village governmental bodies responsible for regulating forest access (known as van panchayats), starting in 1992, CHIRAG has been attempting to raise environmental awareness amongst the youth via primary school programs. CHIRAG provides additional teachers and their own curriculum geared toward locally-useful knowledge, rather than only what's taught in the standardized textbooks that have little to do with life here in the hills. I've been looking at the history and effectiveness of this and similar programs with regard to forestry.

Chandan-ji, the only teacher still around from the original 1992 environmental education program. Today he still teaches and maintains CHIRAG's library in the village Reetha (रीठा).

Last week I visited a few nearby villages in order to interview students and teachers. The 1992 students are now grown, and most have moved on to college, employment, or the army. After talking with their old teacher, I met with three who might be considered the “star pupils” of the environmental education program. One is studying forestry, another now works for an environmentalist NGO, and the third is the youngest member in his village's van panchayat. Their stories were interesting, but for me, the most exciting thing was doing this all in Hindi. Fortunately I had an interpreter to fall back on, because it seems it doesn't matter how many times you tell some people to please speak more slowly.

Along with another girl from my program, I also met some girls who had not participated in any such environmental education program. The difference in their personalities, for whatever reason, was astounding. I'd ask the same questions—How do you use the forest? Would you like to be a member of your village van panchayat?—and instead of getting a long winded environmentalist answer, I couldn't even get a simple yes or no. They just froze up. Were they just unsure of themselves? Having dropped out of school after 5^th grade like many girls here, were they embarrased to sound stupid in front of these educated Americans? Were they just trying to tell us what we wanted to hear but didn't know what that was? Or was there some other reason? I'm not an ethnographer, and I've never done these types of interviews before. All I can do is reflect on this strange situation.

Some kids coming to check out books from the library. Chandan-ji told me that they've come with their families as sort of refugees from Nepal. They don't go to school here yet but they enjoy reading. If I were them, I'd rather have been playing cricket in the field outside the school.

Then Friday, I spent the whole day with Chandan-ji, the original environmental education teacher. My purpose was to visit his library, to see what kinds of forestry materials they were using in their updated environmental education program, which has changed a lot since 1992.

He reminds me of Mrs. Wick, my kindergarten teacher who was so nurturing. He knows just a few English words, not enough to hold a conversation—probably less than I know Hindi. So Hindi we spoke. He was clear and methodical, finding ways to define words I didn't know. This was a turning point for me, realizing that I could actually hold a coherent and interesting Hindi conversation, that I could actually learn something and remember what was said afterwards. I found myself thinking in Hindi.

Chandan-ji holding one of his hand-made books about life in Uttaranchal. One page tells how women carry grass on their heads, and the other tells of the Kauva (कौवा) bird, as drawn by a student in his 5^th class.

I remember how Mrs. Wick made books of paper-bag puppets. There were firemen puppets that taught me about firemen, and also nurses, farmers, and a puppet for each letter of the alphabet. Every month since May 2006, Chandan-ji has similarly made by hand these wonderful books showcasing life in Uttaranchal. He's still intent on teaching his students about their environment, so most of the pages talk about the local forests, trees, plants, or animals. I hope he is able to publish them some day.

Life outside of school hasn't gotten any less exciting. Last week our daily jeep sprung a leak, so the driver put on a spare. The spare was even worse. With 11 people crammed into the car winding around trecherous mountain roads, we soon heard the flap-flap-flap and then clunk-clunk-clunk of the rim on the pavement, and felt the car swerving as it came to a stop. (Our record is 13 people in one jeep, plus the driver.)

This coming Tuesday, the entire group is traveling to Jim Corbet National Park, a “tiger reserve” about 10 hours away where we'll see some different types of forests and, hopefully, a tiger or two. I don't expect this will be any less exciting, either, because the park staff is on strike. We don't really know what to expect, and I won't be alone in being uncomfortable if we have to cross a picket line.

I expect I'll write one or two more updates before I come back home, so I'll tell all about Corbet and the tigers in a week or two. Until then, I hope everyone back in Seattle is having fun swimming and/or preparing for finals!

-Peter
25 November 2006
Sonapani (district Nainital), Uttaranchal, India

Back from "Vacation"

Hello again! I just wanted to send another update to tell you all about my excursion to Rajasthan. After 36 hours of excruciating travel each way, via winding mountain roads, noisy busses, and sleeper-class train cars, I'm grateful to be back in our serene home in the mountains, but I'm also grateful to have seen so much more of India.

My travel group consisted of 8 people, 6 girls, myself, and one other boy. We departed immediately after class on Friday, October 20, which coincidentally was the night before Diwali, India's biggest holiday that somewhat resembles Christmas in the extent to which it has been commercialized. We arrived in Jaipur, the largest city in the western desert-state of Rajasthan, on Saturday afternoon. From one perspective, Diwali is a festival of lights, so that night every house, shop, and street in the city was lined with candles and small oil lamps. Let me tell you it was quite a site! My group and I walked all around, doing some initial shopping. The central bazaar was absolutely jammed with people. After dark, ad-hoc fireworks shows erupted all over the city. And let me tell you again, Indian fireworks are LOUD! A string of firecrackers here is basically a string of M-80s, yet little kids play without regard for safety, as if they were lighting strings of smoke bombs or sparklers. Back at my hotel, I watched starbursts above the rooftops until well after midnight.

On Sunday, the city had quieted down a little, so the 8 of us rented a couple jeeps for an all-day tour of the city. There aren't many particular details I feel need to be described, so I'll just give a quick photo run-through:

First stop: Hawa Mahal, an elaborate palace conspicuously located in the center of the old city, surrounded by bazaars and juta dukans (shoe stores). Jaipur, like many Indian cities, has a walled inner city accessible only by a few ancient gates. This zone is invariantly the most overpopulated, as well as being the home of the main bazaars and historical sites. Outside the wall is the new city, home to modern roads, offices, and hotels.

Next stop: the City Palace, complete with an armory of ancient weapons. "No photos allowed", except outside at this battery of cannons. Adam was thrilled about the cannons.

Heading outside of the Jaipur city limits, we found the Jal Mahal (Water Palace), surrounded by a nearly-drained lake and overlooked from this viewpoint.

Farther out of the city, Amber and Jaigarh Forts were the homes of ancient Hindu kings. Jaigarh Fort is also home to "one of the world's largest cannon on wheels," called "Jaivana".

I managed to nab this picture of some monkeys sitting high up on Jaigarh Fort's wall.

We spent two more days shopping, touring, and enjoying Jaipur. We particularly enjoyed our extremely posh hotel, Rs 1600 per night for a double room (about $35), which was complete with refrigerators, microwaves, A/C, and TVs. I managed to finish a lot of shopping for little gifts, trinkets, and clothing, including a full-length kurta for myself (see the Halloween pictures at the end).

But 3 days in Jaipur went by quickly, so early Wednesday morning we boarded a bus for a 6 hour ride to Jodpur, connecting with a much less comfortable bus on a 7 hour ride to Jaisalmer. Jaisalmer is the western-most major city in India, though it is more of a small town by American standards because of its isolation. It is surrounded by vast desert farmland. The city itself is about three kilometers in diameter, built up around Jaisalmer Fort.

The fort contains some beautiful and intricately carved Jain temples (pictures coming sometime in the future). The temples are surrounded by tourist-oriented shops. The whole city, in fact, is tourist-oriented, that being its main industry this time of year. I thought these "Camel" cigarettes were especially funny to find here in the desert.

Camel cigarettes were so fitting because early Friday morning, all the members of our group took a jeep about 30 kilometers out of the city, out into the middle of nowhere, and climbed aboard our personal camels. Camels are ugly SOBs. Fortunately, this group of 14 must have been well cared for, because they didn't spit or smell nearly as bad as I'd been led to believe. I've been around worse smelling people.

Here's the group playing cards with our tour guides, waiting in the shade of a tree for the midday sun to pass. The shade was cool, but in direct sun the temperature exceeded 90º. This was after a two hour morning ride. Our camels had saddles but no stirrups. We sat on the front of the camels' humps. Camels are much less comfortable to ride than horses, since the slanting saddle, combined with the constant motion of their backs as they haltingly trot, applies quite a lot of pressure on your tailbone. Their backs are also very wide. This all meant that I could barely walk after this first two hour ride.

There were 7 guides in all, none of whom spoke more than a few words of English. I found it difficult to try to speak Hindi with them, too, because they use a dialect called Rajasthani which differs from Hindi just enough to be unintelligible to my untrained ear.

Here's just a nice photo of my camel's shadow. You can see the type of desert landscape we traversed. The area surrounding this ground is agricultural, with small single-acre farms and family huts dotting the path. I was told that this is the start of the growing season, after the monsoons and sweltering heat of summer, but what crops were growing looked malnourished. Outside of farms there were mostly grasslands dotted with shrubs and sparse, flat-topped trees. The ground was also littered with watermelon vines. I didn't dare try to eat one.

Shortly after lunch, we came across a desert oasis. The woman here is a French newlywed, visiting Rajasthan on her honeymoon. Somehow she and her new husband got stuck with our group for their camel safari, but they were extremely friendly. They spoke very good English, and several girls in my group also spoke decent French that they learned in high school.

Just before sunset, after another 2-3 hour ride, we arrived at our camp in the dunes. Though we were 30 kilometers from civilization, a funny Indian man on his own camel showed up carrying a bag of ice-cold Coke and lime soda. At the risk of sounding cliche, this juxtaposition was a little amusing.

Here are a couple photos of my group watching the sunset over the hazy horizon.

And that's it. We camped under the stars (which under the haze were disappointingly dim compared to our view from the Himalayas), our guides cooked dinner and breakfast, and then we packed up and rode two more hours back to a rendezvous with the jeeps. Our hotel provided us with a place to shower and change, and then we boarded a train for an 18 hour ride to Delhi. Our car was "sleeper class", which meant there was no A/C, but the padded bench-seats converted to beds. Sleeping made the ride go a lot faster.

The whole trip was a lot of fun, and like I said, I am glad to have seen and experienced so much more of India. I traveled over a thousand kilometers (at an average speed of something like 50kph) across the width of the country. I ate potentially life-threatening samosas from roadside vendors. I spoke (or tried to speak) Hindi with a variety of people. I toured historical monuments. I bartered with shady shopkeepers. I road a camel. I slept under the stars in the sand.

The only part of the trip that was not fun was getting back to Delhi. Even as the train passed through the outer city limits, I could start to smell the pollution and thick, humid air. The train passed by slums where children played and danced on their tracks — this part was not so much displeasurable as it was eye-opening after the trip to Rajasthan. Rajasthan certainly has its own share of poverty, but Delhi's outrageous overcrowding changes the equation significantly. (To Sarah and Michalina, I noticed that Jaipur and Jodpur both had conspicuous pro-condom HIV-awareness campaigns, whereas Delhi does not have any such thing, at least not in places visible to tourists.) But when our train pulled into Old Delhi Station, our troubles began immediately. We had arranged a taxi to take us on a 10 hour drive back to the Himalayas, but by some mixup, he was waiting at New Delhi Station and had no cell phone. So we scrambled outside to find some taxis to take us across the city. One girl hired a porter ("coolie"), whose price was supposed to be fixed at posted rates but who immediately demanded double. No taxi driver would negotiate a fair price either, demanding at least triple the "Indian" rate. For the first time since I've been in India, I felt like everyone around me was out to cheat me, seeing my skin as a walking white dollar sign.

We arrived "home" past midnight on the morning of Sunday, October 29, after a little more than a week of travel. Over the next couple days I eased lazily back into my regular school schedule. The nights now are significantly colder, and except for the lack of rain, the weather is probably identical to Seattle's.

Last Tuesday, we had a special surprise: a bag full of Indian pumpkins for Halloween! Pumpkins here are small and green, but easy to carve. We all dressed up and had a little taste of home.

Here is Josh, dressed in some sort of outrageous outfit, carving his.

Brian and Evan dressed in togas. Here is their impression of an "omega":

My Hindi teacher dressed in a sari:

And Adam achieved the most convincing impression of a redneck I've ever seen (notice the Budweiser / Confederate Flag tattoo):

And here's the group. I'm dressed in my new kurta on the right, complete with my Hindi teacher's Muslim topi (hat):

Finally, these are our pumpkins.

So that's it! Thanks for reading, and please, everyone, stay in touch. I'm sorry that I don't have time for more personal emails, but I've read everything that you've all sent and I'll reply eventually. I've also picked up some postcards which I should be able to mail in time for Christmas.

So until next time, I miss you all!

-Peter