To be or not to be... a cat

I used to envy my cat. Lounging around all day, bathing and preening and perfecting every centimeter of pristine fur. No cares. No worries. No stress. No pressure. No anxiety. I'd pet her at her desire, and to her own benefit, she'd be unavailable to anyone unless she was in the mood. Independent to a fault, some might surmise. I'd never have agreed. In my eyes, it was independence to be idealized.

But, a few evenings ago while I sat around the coffee table bouncing and enjoying some hearty laughs with the family over board games and too much pizza, the house cat decided it was time for her to get her fix of the day's attention she requires. However, today, it was not to be accepted. She was ushered out of the way of the board game pieces and off to the side to look dejected and forlorn. She could not join in with the six laughing family members, all bonding due largely to the gifts of their thumbs and verbal skills. Independent though the cat may be, she was now an outsider. Cast to the side never to appreciate the joy and misery in playing SceneIt Harry Potter Edition.

It struck me in that moment that the life I'd come to idealize, one of dipping in and out of the joy of social connection in lieu of completely engaging in it in order to avoid being hurt, was no foolproof endeavor. To my utmost chagrin, I see that it's all or nothing.

You're there or you're not. You're part of the family or you're not. You love or you don't.

You're an independent feline. Or you're a dependent puppy.

The day God decided to unleash his swollen bladder on Khera Khurd

You know that scene from The Wizard of Oz when the tornado strikes down and there are cows and houses and such ripping the town apart? And the cackle of some evil witch is the only noise loud enough to challenge the howling screams of hurricane-force winds... Yeah, so maybe it wasn't quite that bad, but it might as well have been per what I've experienced in life.

The house started to flood from the rain pouring down and our the water started creeping under our door, threatening to destroy all the gifts and knacks we've bought for our loved ones back home. We quickly picked everything up off the floor and placed it on our beds in case it got worse. Then, Lisa and I both held the door as we tried to open it, the wind threatening to knock us both over... and I wandered my way through the storm outside and began my rain dance, drowning, spinning, and shouting thanks for the relief from the incessant heat and sun that we've lived through for the past 3 and a half weeks.

It always rains at home, but I've never been so happy to be drowned before. It was sweet.

A few days ago, Lisa and I were venturing back to our homestay from the hospital where she found out her stitches are infected, and as we walked out from the metro to flag down an auto-rickshaw, we were swarmed by more than dozen drivers, all sweating, tongues wagging, shouting in mixed Hindi and English and Lisa and I just looked at each other like "Aye, aye, aye." I asked frantically to the shouting crowd of drivers if anyone knew how to take us to Khera Khurd, and of course, as they do, they all pretended they knew but they never do. We decided to get into one of the autos with one driver, and as we got in, the crowd of drivers shouting incessantly, another man jumped on top of the driver's lap and suddenly I realized what their intentions might be.

A wave of nausea overtook me and I glanced back at the crowd of drivers as our autorickshaw started to pull away into the bypassing highway of cows, trucks, rickshaws, bikes and pedestrians. The men were all frantically waving their fingers, their eyes wide, saying "No, no, don't go with him." And I believed them. I told Lisa to get out of the rickshaw, and she instantly jumped out as we were pulling away. We went back to the crowd and I made eye contact with one of the men there as the previous driver heckled us about leaving his auto. I made sure in some intangible way that the driver I was looking at would get us home safely.

He ushered us into his auto and drove us fast away from the shouting crowd. Many wrong turns, and lost minutes later, we drove seemingly aimlessly through cow fields and corn crops, the driver stopped to ask anyone in sight directions to Khera Khurd. He stopped once more at a canal where dozens of men were swimming and playing, and one came up and tried to deliver his advice on where to go. As the driver thanked him, he looked at Lisa and decided to reach into the auto to grab her. So goes a day in the life of a women in India. Subject to degradation and objectification. I am beseiged by reminders of how "Western girls are sluts" constantly, and I have to wonder... who created this stereotype? Is it our fault? Does the West perpetuate its own persona throughout the rest of the world?

Finally, we reached home and I profusely thanked the driver and tipped him nicely for getting us home safely.

It's a dog eat dog world.

A child beggar scratched me and Lisa several times on our way to this internet cafe, which is a 2 hour bus/metro/autorickshaw travel away from where we are living. Just to give you an idea of some of the experiences you can expect if you venture to Delhi.

There was a huge storm last night, nothing like I've ever seen... thunder and lightning, the power lines blew out and sparks flew from the transformers. Dust and sand blew so strongly that you could not see without being blinded. It reminded me of a desert sand storm. The chairs Lisa and I left on the top balcony blew off and broke. The family is not happy about that. =(.

We've toured many areas of Delhi and I have so many photos to share, but uploading photos here is next to impossible. Fortunately, I am going to be home soon enough where it will take less than a few minutes to upload hundreds.

All over this city, stray dogs are everywhere, people are scrambling and fighting with one another, competing for survival. People have no work, they sit in mud and feces trying to escape the sweltering heat. It's a constant fight for the less privileged amongst us. As I walked through the streets last week, I was horrified when I saw a pack of stray dogs mutilating and tearing the flesh off of another dog, a bigger dog. It was horrible and I felt sick to my stomach. But that's what it's like here. You eat or you're eaten.

We've ceased our volunteer work for the moment out of protest to the project we've been placed at. It's nothing like what we signed up for. We feel cheated and deceived at the moment, and we've been trying to contact the organization for nearly a week with not much luck due to lack of access to internet. Where we work, we go to a government subsidized daycare centre for 1.5-2.5 hours a day where we are left alone with 20 children in a room half the size of my bedroom at home. Obviously, we don't speak the same language as the children, which makes it incredibly difficult to contain their energy in such a small space. We signed up to work in an orphanage, organizing and helping with daily tasks, giving support and providing what we can for an organization and for people who need our help, and this is not what we are doing.

Me with the kids we're volunteering with!!!

I don't know why, but the photo won't post. You can see it on my facebook.

http://photos-h.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs006.snc1/4167_1040106617544_1671911622_95647_4167915_n.jpg

Most of you have me on there, if you don't and you want to see the photo, add me on Facebook: Sol Sousbois, or comment here and I'll try to e-mail to you. Gotta run, and uploading just a few photos has taken 2 hours =(.

Chillin' in Khera Khurd, Delhi.

So it's now Wednesday here in Delhi, so just about a week since I've left Vancouver. These past 6 days have been some of the most intense experiences I've ever gone through in my whole, short life. But, I have to say that they are invaluable in their worth. I'm growing fast as a person, and I'm going to return home with a renewed sense of spirit and appreciation for everything and everyone around me. To me, it seems impossible to live here more than a few weeks, but there are people here like the children we work with who live their whole lives here in these unsanitary conditions. But, I suppose experience is relative, and if they've known nothing else, their coping is going to be different than my own for sure.

On Sunday, we left the Paharganj and were taken to the house in an area of Delhi called Khera Khurd where we are staying with the homestay family. I've never encountered more welcoming, kind, compassionate people. The boys are really fun and easy to get along with and the daughter is incredibly helpful, and also the one who makes all of our meals. The mom is always smiling and the dad very kind.

I fell quite ill yesterday. I'd heard about the Delhi Belly many times before and was aware that it was quite likely I'd experience it, but let me tell you, that was nothing like any sort of diarrhea I've ever experienced. The only thing leaving my body from all ends was water. I wasn't retaining any liquids whatsoever, and I began growing highly concerned that I would dehydrate. Somehow, I managed to get myself downstairs and communicate enough with the mother Krishna that I needed sugar and salt and water (pani). I told her: "Mereko pani chaiyeh" (or however you spell it, which means "I want water")... and right after she understood and helped me to get it, I basically threw up everywhere. It was a mess.

Other than this business, we have worked our first day with the kids. Their spirit is incredible, their energies so high. The room in which we are working with them is tiny, hardly the size of Meghan's bedroom back at home, most certainly smaller. And there are about 15-20 kids. None of them speak English and neither does the one worker there who helps us to shout at the kids to get them to sit down when we need them to. Being here to spend time with them and teach them as much as I possibly can is all I really want to do right now. It's the reason I am here now.

India, as a world that is so vastly different than the one I am used to, where every sensory experience is something outstandingly new and affronting, is also a world that contains little reminders here and there of my home that must not be so far away. On the bus to work in the slums the other day, someone's phone was playing JAI HO (the Pussycat Dolls remix), and Lisa and I both just started to laugh. To hear that song in the scorching heat on a crowded, rickety bus in the middle of boontown India was amusing. And here also, where it feels like the middle of nowhere, with nothing familiar, the one familiar thing that I can see is Head and Shoulders in every shop. Quite the convenient product, I must avow.

Feelin' like a pro now!

Today, we spent our second day wandering around the insanely crowded, filthy, ALIVE Main Bazaar. Almost everybody tries to talk to us. Shop owners yell from inside their stores "Please, sir, please come in. You come, I give you best price!" Taxi drivers constantly drive up beside us, "Where to? I can take you wherever you are wanting to go." Random men, particularly, approach us "Oh ma'am, you look sad, let me cheer you up. Where are you from? I have family from Canada." We've stopped and chatted with a few people, but in the end, if they're not already serving you and getting your money, I'm seeing the main reason people on the streets are talking to us is because of money. I'm becoming an old pro with the polite wave of the hand "No thank you," and then walking along as they follow continuing to say anything to provoke a response.

At this one particular little cafe we sat in today drinking chai and writing in our journals, some very Organix-inspired music started playing and I just had to dance. It was the first time I encountered something familiar in days... music that sounded like it came from a club back in Vancouver. Oh, except for toilet paper, which is for sale by the way. After having witnessed far too many bowel movements and bladder releases in the streets, I can safely say I love my TP.

I bought some new clothes today. In total I spent 150 rupees, for a shirt and pants, which is just under 4$... definitely a bit pricey in relation to the actual price, but honestly... 4$ for a shirt and pants! The clothes are sooo sweet. Lisa's bought tons of new stuff, but I'm saving the real shopping spree for near the end of the trip! So those of you who gave me money, honestly... 30$ is gonna buy you like 15 shirts/pants, which are like the more expensive items.

Maybe I'm a bit jetlagged, but I don't really feel it. I do feel heightened emotions constantly, but I'm awake during the day and tired at night, just a bit early if nothing else. It's currently 6:30 at night and I'm quite ready for bed... but we did wake up at 4am. lol.

Until the next time from Delhi!!

Shock at its finest.

It is now 5:50pm at night on Friday, May 1st, 2009. I am sitting in the inn internet lounge with a fan blowing uselessly on my sweating body. It is currently 45 degrees celsius; my head is on fire, my stomach swimming with Indian goodness, and my spirit soaring irrevocably through the dirt, piss, shit, and inexplicable wonder that make up Delhi.

I have not slept more than 30 minutes in one span in 48 hours, I think. But, with all the time differences, I honestly have no idea how long we've been away from home. The plane ride was a journey unto itself. Finding our way around the Taipei airport was an exercise in sheep herding and a human ability to mistrust the herd. A Skytrain ride and some confusion later, we found the terminal. In any case, we succeeded and have arrived 23 hours later, flight delayed, and exhausted in Delhi. The Paharganj where we are staying is the most incredible place I have ever been. Cows, children, beggars, rich people, Westerners, hippies, stray dogs, bugs, poo, piss, police, and just about every type of vehicle you've ever imagined all crowded onto one street. And each street is densely packed, shop on shop, person on person.

I feel kind of at home with all the honking; it reminds me of Montreal. It's incessant. And speaking of streets and roads in India, I have seen Youtube videos and heard many a description of what it's like to drive in India. But, let me tell you, that after having been driven from the Delhi airport to Connaught Square and to our hostel, driving in India is nothing you'll have ever experienced before. There's no logic, reason, structure or format, and in spite of all this, the traffic flows as freely as 10:00 on a Tuesday morning in New Westminster. No problems at all. What a world.

We are here until Sunday, and then we are being picked up by our coordinator (who is an incredibly, incredibly nice, genuine man. He had so much amazing advice and knowledge to give us in just one car ride from the airport to our hostel... and he was so worried about the area we are staying in, lol [because of all the touts, etc]). He will drive us from this area to the house we will be staying in in Khera Khurd, in North Delhi, which is apparently a semi-rural area, unlike where we currently are. The family we are staying with is apparently quite well-educated and wealthy. The father is a police officer, and they have four children, one of whom has a Masters degree apparently.

I have had my first Indian meal: dal and garlic chappati. It was amazingly delicious, and I wasn't even able to finish it all. It cost less than 1 dollar. I asked to carry the dal (lentil soup) out of the tiny little road side cafe we sat in, and it was given to me in a plastic bag which is now sitting in our room still uneaten.

Mom, Dad, and every family member and friend I wish to contact... I haven't quite figured out the phone business yet. I tried to call collect in Taipei, but it didn't seem to work. I will do everything I can to come and update on here as much as possible and I can't wait to show you some of the amazing pictures I have taken so you can see the absolute perfect chaos that is Delhi.
I miss and love everyone, but I desperately need to sleep. I seem to have forgotten what that is like.