Orientation to India

At this point there is no way I can possibly describe India itself.  I can come up with words like loud, vibrant, dusty, energized, but everything is still pretty much a sensory overload.  Everywhere I look there is something that I’ve never seen before.  Instead I’ve been focusing on the little things like:
why are there mothballs (or what appear to be mothballs) in all of the sink drains?
Why does my dorm room have the same locking mechanism as the bathroom stalls (a deadbolt vertically at the top of the door and horizontally at the bottom)? Should this make me feel very safe in the bathroom or concerned in my bedroom? 
Given that the water for the showers is heated by solar power and so that you can’t take a warm shower in the morning or after all of the hot water is used up at night, what happens during the rainy season? 
Why are Indian children wearing earmuffs when it is above 70˚F? 
For the next 4 months, do I ever really need to shave my legs since I’m not supposed to ever show leg above my knees even at the gym?
Should I feel initiated into India now that a cow has peed on my foot? Well, not directly, I just got sprayed, but still, cows are holy, right?

Orientation has mostly been focused on safety: don't drink the water, eat food from street vendors (for a couple of weeks),  travel alone and the list goes on.  While this sort of information hasn't been the most captivating, I've begun learning some interesting cultural do's and don'ts. For example, pointing your foot at a figure of authority is offensive, so I think I'm not supposed to cross my legs in class because it might look like I'm pointing my foot at my professor. Still a little unclear on this one. 

The much more enjoyable aspect of orientation is exploring Hyderabad.  This has included crossing streets, which is a bit difficult when there are seemingly no traffic rules. I haven't seen anyone get hit though. "Organized chaos" is the best description of Indian traffic I have heard of so far. Last night my study abroad buddies and I went to a local Indian crafts fair.  I've decided I really don't like being called madam. "Madam, looking is free," was my personal favorite.  After a very enjoyable evening admiring all of the beautiful fabric, jewelry, woodwork, ect. I had my first experience with very persistent beggars. As we headed back to our taxi a group of young girls literally latched onto our group, including one girl who hung onto my arm.  We've been instructed not to give money to the homeless because it attracts a endless crowd, which is what happened with these girls. I find it difficult to stomach though, given their obvious awful quality of life and I don't really know how I'm personally going to deal with the extreme poverty that I see every day here.  

On the brighter side, today I ate lunch in a palace. Definitely a first. The Nizams of the Asaf Jahi dynasty hosted and entertained their guests in the Chowmallah Palace, which today houses many of the lavish remnants of these Muslim rulers.  Visiting the palace was just one of the many historical and cultural sites I saw today in Hyderabad.  Others included the Qutb Shahi tombs (apparently rulers during this dynasty were assassinated so often that they didn’t trust that their successor would build their tomb and so the ruler began building it when they first gained power), Mecca Masjid (supposedly the second largest mosque in India), Lad Bazaar (located in the Old City, a Muslim part of the city), and my favorite, Golconda Fort.  Golconda was the capital of the Qutb Shahi kings (whose tombs we saw earlier) during the 16th century and in Telugu translates as “shepherd hill.” Pictures to follow.

I made it!

WARNING: Before you begin reading this blog expecting incredibly eloquent assessments of Indian culture I should tell you: 1) I've slept approximately 8 hours over the past 2 days and I don't always make the most sense when I'm sleep deprived. 2) My only previous experience blogging has either involved Civil War related topics or historical methodology, so I'll do my best not to suddenly have the urge to write about where black soldiers who fought for the Union are buried in Pennsylvania. I can't guarantee anything though.

Right now it's just after 6pm in Hyderabad, a full 10 and 1/2 hours ahead of the East Coast, which basically means I no longer have any idea what my body is telling me to do right now.  To rewind slightly, after immediately entering the check-in line for Etihad Airways (the official airline of the U.A.E.) in JFK, I felt that I was suddenly in the minority.  This wasn't an uncomfortable feeling just very unfamiliar as I spotted one other person with hair lighter than a dark brown and maybe four others with fair skin. While I knew that this was how things would be in India, I guess I wasn't expecting the sensation while still in the United States. Etihad Airways, however, quickly reassured my American sensibilities by giving me the dinner option of delicious roast turkey, potatoes, and cranberry sauce. (This was also the first time I have received a menu that outlined my dining options on an airplane, which may have in itself made the food taste better.)

Approximately 12 hours later I arrived in Abu Dhabi, where I got my final flight into Hyderabad.  Though there were only a few splashes of colors on the clothing of the travelers, all of the dark hues are balanced by the terminal’s fantastic ceiling, which has the illusion of growing out of this central pillar that gets progressively broader—like a tree getting more full from trunk into its leaves—until it becomes the ceiling itself, changing from a green tiles to a dark blue sky.  Other interesting aspects of the Abu Dhabi airport were the small number of women who seemed to be traveling alone; the vast majority seemed to be accompanied by a spouse-like figure or with a family.  Also, security lines were separated into male and female lines. 

Overlooking Hyderabad

My roommate Kasia and puppies!

I finally landed in Hyderabad at about 3am local time.  Indian immigration was interesting because there were only two massive lines, without any differentiation between citizens and non-citizens, a striking difference with the disparity you find at American airports. I successfully collected my bag to the ebullient sounds of "Frosty the Snowman" from the airport sound system, and as I left the airport a man running a currency exchange booth wished me a "happy new year's in advance," very forward-looking of him. Since arriving in India this morning I have had to wait for about five cows to meander across the road, sipped tea from a balcony cafe with a gorgeous view, and played with the adorable puppies that seem to live in front of the international dorm.  I have yet to sign up for classes or receive my permanent housing, but these sorts of technicalities don't seem to matter so much to me right now.  It's December and in the low 80s in the afternoon. I'm in India.