India

We ported in Chennai, India on March 11 after a week at sea. It was so nice to have that week on the ship – to catch up on work, catch up with friends and really feel at home. It’s funny, but coming back to the ship whenever we are away on trips, I feel this sense of love and belonging whenever I see that big boat in the harbor. It has been my constant as I see and experience new and different things every day. We’ll be riding in a taxi and when we finally see the ship over buildings and streets, everyone will always be like “Aw the ship! We’re home!” Especially with all the quick traveling between Japan and China and Vietnam, that week was such a great way to recharge our batteries and really get excited for India. I think I appreciated getting off the ship so much more with a longer stint at sea.

There was a lot of preport preparation for India. We were told repeatedly of the importance of the customs and maintaining respect and honor during our trip. It was labeled “The Big One” by the Deans and the doctor – the big one for our experiences (and chances for any illnesses imaginable) Also, my history class Women in India really provided me with insight into the sort of conditions we would be experiencing. They asked that all women wear pants below your knees and shirts that covered your shoulders, and preferably elbows. This wouldn’t have been that hard to do if it wasn’t 100 degrees outside, that made it a little trickier. There are several India specialists on the ship, anthropologists, historians, sociologists – all with conflicting opinions on what we should expect and how we should handle our experience. They left me with a feeling of excitement, but also with confusion – they told us not to be shocked by anything, we would see poverty in ways we couldn’t imagine, customs we couldn’t understand, and lifestyles totally different from our own. All these warnings were helpful, and all true.

When we port in different countries we usually dock in cruise terminals, with nice little shops and clean areas to walk through to get to and from the ship. We are dropped in this artificial world of tourism, without any sense of the real people. But in India, there are no cruise terminals, so we docked in an industrial shipping yard, a very different environment than how we have grown accustomed to disembarking. Customs was unorganized, difficult and lengthy. We were given our passport, a passport copy, and an arrival card to all keep up with. We had to carry all these documents on us at all times, because we were occasionally searched and asked for our documentation.

After finally getting off the ship, we were immediately bombarded with taxi and rickshaw drivers, imploring us to take their cab or rickshaw. The port area was confusing and disorganized and within minutes of setting foot into India, we were all very overwhelmed. We eventually figured out that we had to walk about 10 minutes down a road to leave the port gates to really enter the city. That walk was pretty eye opening. Everything was completely covered in black filth and it didn’t take long for all of us to look like we hadn’t showered in days. There were huge industrial trucks lining the roads, no sidewalks and just empty dilapidated buildings all around us. We finally made it to the port gate where we were bombarded again with drivers asking to take us anywhere we pleased. We were told by the Foreign Service officers in Chennai to really stick with the rickshaws, they were the cheapest and easiest way to maneuver around town. But they also said to make sure they didn’t try to make any stops along the way (this happened almost every time.) We eventually negotiated a price with a very persistent rickshaw driver to take us to Spencer’s Plaza – a local market and shopping area where we were told we could buy original goods. I really wanted to get a Sari – the traditional Indian dress. As expected, about halfway through our trip to the Plaza, the driver pulled over at a local market and told us to please spend five minutes inside shopping. The diplomats had warned us about this – that every driver gets a cut for taking foreigners to local shops along their route. Knowing what to do, we remained in the rickshaw and he eventually took us the rest of the way, disappointed. But that rickshaw ride was one of my favorite experiences in all of India. It was about a 40 minute drive, we just gazed out the sides taking in every sight, sound and smell. Chennai is a pretty large city in the South of India, but the infrastructure is still very limited. The roads were mostly dirt and were overflowing with rickshaws. We would pass huge families crammed in one tiny rickshaw – the children waving happily at us as we drove by. It was a great way to really see the city. Once again, I am blown away by the traffic. Port after port it just keeps getting crazier. In India there are absolutely no traffic laws, you are totally left to fend for yourself. I don’t know how anyone can drive like that, or get from place to place safely all the time. It was also my first chance to really see poverty as we had been warned about up close. There would be an immaculately nice office building backed right up to unroofed slums – small children begging with little bare feet in the dirt while men drove by in huge luxury cars. The economic disparity is huge – and very apparent.

We eventually reached Spencer’s Plaza, which turned out to be more like a mall than we had expected. But this was our only free day during our time in India without planned trips, so we wanted to spend it making sure we got all the mementoes we wanted. We stumbled upon a little cloth and fabric store owned by the sweetest older man I’ve ever met. Like most of the residents of Chennai, he knew that “big boat of Americans” was coming that day. He and his wife serve as homestay parents to Semester at Sea kids every semester and he was so friendly and warm, we all immediately felt at ease. We shopped around for the majority of the afternoon and had lunch inside the Plaza a little food court type area. I was a little hesitant about the food in India – so worried that I would eat something bad and not be able to fully experience the country. Dr. Mort gave a detailed debriefing prior to our entry and suggested we all take “pepto prophylaxis” with every meal while in India. We all did this religiously and luckily avoided any type of sickness. “Pepto prophylaxis” has become sort of a running joke on the ship – but no one is questioning its power. I just pointed to a picture on the menu, not knowing what I would end up with – it sort of was like a cheese quesadilla, served with a side of several different sauces and mixtures. Everything was incredibly spicy; I drank 3 bottles of water in that single sitting. Later, we explored around Spencer’s a little more, and we finally stumbled upon a dress shop. There, little Indian women were so excited to help us pick out our saris. We all tried on several before deciding on the ones that were right for us. The one I picked out is red with a brightly colored matching scarf and pants – I’m not sure where I’ll ever wear it, but it is beautiful. We later took a rickshaw back towards the ship, giving us another chance to see the city before heading back to the ship for a much needed shower. The crew on board the ship placed cardboard and plastic wrap over all the floors on the ship to prevent us from tracking in dirt. By the time we got back – the cardboard floors were already black. I have never seen dust, dirt and filth like I did that first day in Chennai. This might be too much information but I think it sums up the situation – anytime I blew my nose, the Kleenex would be black. We were inhaling soot and dirt for six days straight.

The next morning I had to wake up very early (3:30 am) to meet my group for our Semester at Sea planned trip to the Taj Mahal and Varanasi. This early morning routine became the norm during our time in India – it was quite a strenuous trip. We took a bus to the Chennai airport in the dark of night, as we drove we passed by a beach where a beautiful moon overlooked the ocean. We passed through security at the airport and boarded our flight to Delhi. After landing in Delhi, we remained on the same plane, with about an hour break on the tarmac and then took our second flight to Varanasi. Varanasi is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world, located on the banks of the Ganges River; it is one of the holiest sites in the world for Hindus. The city feels old. Located in the northern part of India, there was definitely a difference in temperature, attitude and lifestyle with that of the south. Walking through the streets, I could feel the history, encapsulated in centuries of tradition, custom and ritual. We checked into our hotel where we were warmly greeted with tea and all had our foreheads painted with a bindi. Bindis are a small typically red dot placed right in the center of your face – between your eyes. Indians believe that your forehead is an empty space that needs to be made beautiful; the same concept is sometimes also applied to the neck. We had lunch at our hotel before leaving for an afternoon visit to a silk market. I was blown away by the intricacies of silk making. One man would sit behind a loom for hours to create masterpieces. He told us that it took about one week, working 10 hours a day, to produce one line in a silk wall hanging, which was probably about 5 feet by 7 feet. The work was tedious, but absolutely beautiful. After the silk market we proceed to a neighboring town called Sarnath. Sarnath is believed to be the location of the Buddha’s first sermon – a site incredibly holy to Buddhists. While there isn’t really any empirical evidence that Buddha was actually ever in Sarnath, or was actually a real person at all – it is an incredibly holy place and pilgrimage site for Buddhists. We first visited the museum, where there was room after room of excavated statues, clay pottery and ancient artifacts. We then visited the ruins of an ancient monastery where a group of monks was leading an afternoon service. Upon leaving the ruins, we were absolutely mobbed with people trying to sell us things on the street – it was incredibly overwhelming. We then visited the new Buddhist temple in Sarnath, a beautiful space that was ornately decorated. Afterwards, we proceeded back to Varanasi to watch Ganga Aarti at Dasaswamedh Ghat on the banks of the Ganges River. Ganga Aarti is a religious ceremony preformed in the evenings right on the river banks. The Ganges River is said to be one of the most holy places for a Hindu – and if you die in Varanasi then your soul goes straight to Heaven without any waiting or verdict, it is immediate acceptance into the next world. It is believed that the Ganges is full of Shakti, or divine spiritual power. Because of this, if you wash your body in the Ganges then you are immediately forgiven for your sins – once again purified in the eyes of God. But because of the belief that if you die in Varanasi you will immediately enter Heaven, the banks of the Ganges are full of dilapidated “death houses” – where people pilgrimage to await their death. There was this weird eerie feeling of lurking death in Varanasi that I can’t really describe, but the imminence of the end of life and the waiting for it was just a really strange concept for me to consider. We all took rickshaws from a side street to the banks of the river, once again I loved being able to take in my complete surroundings. The streets were packed with rickshaws and bicycles, the traffic constantly slowed down by the huge cows that would just lie in the middle of the street. No one ever attempted to make the cattle move, but just peacefully waited for them to move along on their own. I was never really given a straight answer on why the cow is so sacred, just that a lot of great Brahmins (the highest caste) were reincarnated between their human lives as cows. I’ve never had such a sensory over load as I did in that rickshaw on the way to the Ganges. There were night markets open, people moving in every direction, food being cooked and so much going on it was hard to take it all in. We finally reached the river where the ceremony had already begun. By this time it was dark outside and we just quietly watched as people sang songs and spread incense and prayed. Many participants in the ceremony were in canoes in the river along the bank. I wish that I could have understood better what was going on, but it was very beautiful. And I’m sure very meaningful to Hindus. Standing so near the water, the mosquitoes were incredibly bad. They were so thick it was all I could see when looking out onto the water. Luckily, I was pretty much drenched in deet and have been taking my malaria medicine pretty religiously – but it was still pretty gross. We later took rickshaws back to meet our bus to take us back to our hotel. We all prepared for our early morning wakeup call the next morning to watch the sunrise on the Ganges.

We had a 4:30 wakeup call the next morning, so we quickly had a little coffee and boarded the bus to take us back to the banks of the Ganges for the sunrise. We all boarded a large wooden boat while it was still dark outside to begin our float down the Ganges. We were able to watch the city come alive at dawn, one of the most beautiful sites I’ve ever seen. As the sun started to rise, people began entering the holy waters, bathing and washing away their sin and releasing their souls from the cycle of rebirth. This ritual has been practiced for centuries, and I felt so small, surrounded by the magnitude of this historic and traditional act. We floated for about an hour, passing religious site after site, death house after house, until we reached the sacred crematorium. Another part of the Hindu religion is that the deceased must be cremated. Those cremated along the Ganges are said to be the most holy, devout, soon to be dwellers of Heaven. The crematorium was basically just a large bank on the side of the river with big ditches dug out where several small fires were being controlled by workers. We watched as families mourned while witnessing the cremation of loved ones, one of the most gruesome – yet beautiful things I’ve experienced on this trip. It was this morning where I really witnessed the beauty of life and death. I saw young children following their parents into the water to cleanse their sins, and then I saw grown children mourning the loss of their mothers and fathers. These simple acts were wrapped in generations of religious tradition; I was overcome with so many feelings, but mostly I was in awe of how spectacular it was to be in a wooden boat on the Ganges River – one of the birthplaces of civilization. We got out of the boat right past the crematorium to take a walk through downtown Varanasi. As we walked, dust, dirt and ash would surround us, I had to breathe through my scarf the majority of the morning. By the time we arrived back at the hotel for breakfast, most all of our clothes were black with dirt and soot. After breakfast, we visited a glass bead shop where we were all given a lesson in bead making. We shopped for a little while and the proceeded back to our hotel to check out and head towards the airport for our return trip to Delhi. The Varanasi airport was quite an experience. It was literally two rooms, one seating area prior to “security” and one after. It was the most rinky-dink airport imaginable; we walked straight from security to the tarmac where we boarded the plane back to Delhi. After our arrival in Delhi we took a city tour which included driving down Santi Path (which means the road to peace) where all the embassies are located. We passed the War Memorial, Parliament House, secretariat buildings and the official residence of the President of India. We then visited the Birla Temple – a beautiful complex located right in downtown Delhi. Afterwards, we checked into our hotel – an unbelievable resort called the Ashok. While this was probably one of the nicest hotels in Delhi, the water in the shower was brown. I never felt like I was ever really clean. We had some free time before dinner, so I ventured to a market with my friends Abby and Amy. Located outside, this market seemed to go on for miles. We all really wanted some henna on our hands – so we walked around until we found a little henna station, where the painters could whip out cool designs in seconds, I was amazed how quickly they could do it. We later took a rickshaw back to our hotel after spending probably a good half an hour trying to find an exit to the market.

The next morning we had a 4:15 wake up call to leave the hotel by 5am for our train ride to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. My experience in the train station in Delhi was one of the most eye opening experiences of my life. As soon as the bus pulled up to the station, child beggars, homeless people and many people with physical deformities swarmed the bus. This happened almost everywhere we went while on the trip in India – but at the train station at 5 in the morning was very overwhelming. We were told not to make eye contact, not to give them any money and just walk straight ahead. This was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It hurt deep down inside to see the small children beg for money, food, and just some attention. We were told not to really compare our experiences in India to Slumdog Millionaire because “it’s not how it really is”. But the sheer magnitude of poverty that we saw that morning was spot on like the movie. Our tour guide told us that the child beggars’ bosses typically drug the smaller children, to make them appear less active. I’ve never felt quite as helpless as I did that morning. There was absolutely nothing I could do to help the situation, I could provide no type of solution and it hurt my soul. As we walked from the bus to the landing, we passed through this little covered area right outside the terminal. There, hundreds of people were sleeping under all sorts of cloths and blankets. It was the most unbelievable site. Here I was, boarding a train to see the Taj Mahal, while hundreds of people were struggling to get through the night asleep. It affected me profoundly. We’ve discussed on this trip very often about our position in the world – I’m living on a cruise liner, circumnavigating the globe while we visit and learn about people that are struggling to survive. How do I reconcile that? How do I make peace with that? I haven’t yet. But that morning in that train station changed something, in my outlook, my standpoint, and my perspective in relation to the world. I was horrified and moved, and changed.

We took the Shatabdi Express to Agra which was about a 3 hour trip. Upon arriving in Agra we visited the red sandstone palace of Fatehpur Sikri. 25 miles from Agra, Fatehpur Sikri was built by the emperor Akbar as his capital to honor a Muslim saint who prophesied the birth of his sole male heir. It was a beautiful compound and in a remarkably high state of preservation. My favorite part was looking out into the distance, we could see a large tomb area Akbar built for his beloved elephant when it died. It had a better burial than a lot of his family. Afterwards, we had lunch at a local hotel (we ate all of our meals in hotels – I think it was the only way they could really accommodate all of us). Afterwards we visited Agra Fort, home to the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan. Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal as a mausoleum for his wife Mumtaz Mahal after she died in childbirth. Agra Fort was incredibly beautiful, definitely an impressive home for an emperor. Looking out the windows of Agra Fort, we could see the Taj in the distance, which was an amazing viewpoint. We then finally proceeded to the Taj. Afraid that petroleum car emissions might damage the color of the Taj, only battery operated cars are allowed within one mile of it. We all had to board small battery cars to get to the gates. It was so hot outside, crammed into this little car was pretty miserable. We finally arrived at the gates where we waited what seemed like forever to clear security to go inside. We were all a little disappointed because we only were given about an hour to explore the entire grounds – we could have spent days there, taking it in from different angles and views. But we eventually made it through security and were given little shoe covers to wear inside. The Taj Mahal really is an architectural marvel. The symmetry, white marble design and color was breathtaking. It is said that the color changes slightly throughout the day, depending on the sun. We arrived a little after 4pm and by the time we left a little after 5, it looked different to me. It was very crowded, I wanted to take lots of pictures, but I felt I was missing out on taking in its beauty by being touristy. We just sat for several minutes, admiring it. Flanking the main mausoleum on either side are two mosques, not typically considered when you think of the Taj Mahal. These buildings were just as beautiful. We wanted to make sure we had time to actually enter inside, so we got in the long line wrapping all the way around the dome. Looking at the design up close, the intricacies of the marble inlay is absolutely unbelievable. Tiny flowers, designs and symbols cover the walls – the hours of labor to make such beauty I can’t even comprehend. We finally were able to quickly walk through inside and view Mumtaz Mahal’s tomb. The entire gate around her tomb was made out of one large piece of marble. I’ve always thought the Taj Mahal was beautiful, but I never really understood why it was such a “wonder”. I get it now. It has the perfect duality of simple and intricate. It is the physical manifestation of Shah Jahan’s love for Mumtaz. And looking at it from every angle shows you something different. While I would have loved to have spent a little more time admiring its beauty – I am just so glad I was able to visit such an amazing architectural feat. We later had dinner at a hotel and took the train back to Delhi.

For part of my grade for my Women in India class, I had to talk to someone about their social lifestyle in India. Since I was on the Semester at Sea trip, I really didn’t encounter too many people on my own. I decided to ask our tour leader Rajh some questions – which were incredibly eye opening and informative. He told me about his life in Delhi, which sounded very cosmopolitan and urban, not like the lives of the women in the villages we are reading about. He told me his family was in the process of selecting his future wife – and that arranged marriages were the duty of every Hindu man. I asked him if he found the love of his life, would he still allow his parents to arrange his marriage to a stranger. He replied, “I have loved already, that chapter is over, I now must fulfill my duty to my family.” He went on to say that his parents had “learned to love” each other and every day is a learning experience about the other person. This concept just seemed so foreign; but it was such a great conversations about the philosophy of love and duty and the differences in India and the United States.

The next morning we departed Delhi at 6am for our flight to Cochin to meet back up with the ship. It was one of the longest days of traveling I’ve ever experienced – every mode of transportation was delayed and took longer than expected. We finally arrived in Cochin late in the afternoon around 4pm and had to go through customs to enter the port. Cochin is located in the only communist state in India, which made customs logistically hard and time consuming. Every government agency in India is just a little disorganized. I kind of loved that about the country, but it did make traveling a little bit tough. Back in the southern part of India, it was so humid. I was so glad to get back to the ship for a real shower (with clear water).

On our final day in India I visited the SOS Children’s Village in Cochin in the afternoon. In the morning, Mckenzie, Kalyn, Sarah, Nicci and I ventured to find a local post office. We were told it wasn’t that far from the port, so we decided to walk and try and find it. The entire way there, there were 3 to 4 rickshaws following us, yelling “semesterrr, we’ll take you anywhere!” At this point, we’ve gotten pretty used to hecklers and persistent drivers and sellers – but India was really a whole new level. We eventually found the post office, and then had a little lunch a local restaurant. We all ordered something different; mine was sort of a pancake type crepe with potatoes and a spicy sauce on the inside. We then returned to the ship to get ready for our afternoon visit to the Children’s Village.

SOS Children’s Villages are orphanages that have been set up by UNICEF and are located throughout the world. After seeing the children in the train station in Delhi, I had to do some sort of service project while I was in India. We rode for about an hour and half to reach the village on the outskirts of Cochin. As soon as we stepped off the bus we were greeted by children with balloons, all coming up to us, holding our hands and greeting us so warmly. We were taken to their small outdoor auditorium where we each were painted with a bindi on the forehead and neck and given a full coconut to drink while we watched the children sing and dance. After their performances, we were taken to one of their homes. There are 20 houses located in the village, all with about 15-20 children living in each home. Their home is the center of their life, with all the rest of the children forming their family and all having one “mother” that watches over them. We sat on the floor and played, colored, and talked for about 2 hours that afternoon. The children in the house I visited were of all ages, but there were four young teenage girls, probably around the ages of 12 to 14, that I immediately connected with. They all spoke basic English and so I was able to really talk to them about their lives. They told me they had never seen “yellow” hair before, and just wanted to play with it and touch my skin. Before the trip, I got some really small plastic trinkets from Wal-Mart in Galax because I was told children on service trips would love having a little something. I passed out little rubber balls to the boys and little neon plastic rings to the girls and they loved them. I couldn’t believe how enamored these children were by such a small small thing. I talked to the girls about their life ambitions, what they wanted to do when they could not longer live in the village. One girl told me she wanted to be a nurse, and when I told her that my mom was a nurse, she beamed from ear to ear. I wish that I could remember her name, I want so badly to be able to write to her, keep up with her and know how her life progresses. It was a day I will never forget, I was completely amazed by these children. I also was amazed by their “mother” the kindest older lady I have ever met. What an amazing woman she was – to live her life in the service of these children who otherwise would have no maternal figure. That is the definition of love.

We returned to the ship later that evening and departed Cochin, India for Port Louis, Mauritius. My time in India was extraordinary. I have never been placed so far out of my comfort zone and been left with the implications of that. It made me consider my life, my small place within this massive world, and how lucky I am. While I think that my pre-arranged trip did limit my ability to really feel the culture first hand, I wouldn’t have been able to witness the incredible things I saw otherwise. With my love for history, Varanasi impacted me in ways I didn’t know that it would. I could feel the centuries of tradition around me, how much bigger these rituals were than you or me. I was witnessing history in action. The Taj Mahal is a masterpiece – and it deserves all of the recognition that it has ever received. I was in awe of its beauty, a structure that has no parallel. But my time in India was not defined by the sites that I saw or the pictures that I took – it was made by the people that I met and the conversations that I had. I will always feel incredibly lucky to have experienced those six days in India.

Everyone always says “this trip changes you – you will see.” I was waiting for the change, waiting for this big “ah ha” moment, when I would be a different person. I have learned it doesn’t work like that. It isn’t some cosmic shift in my personality, but tiny adjustments in how I view things within the world. India was the first time I felt my outlook being altered. Everything that I regarded within my frame of reference was questioned, considered and examined. I will always be indebted to India for showing me this, helping me to expand my outlook and slowly change how I view myself in relation to the world.