Kites Ho!

If any of you watch The Big Bang Theory, you may remember this episode:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-YT4og9mu0E&NR=1
That is exactly what I did this weekend.  And yes, I did get string burn.

I woke up early Friday morning to leave for Surat, a city 6 hours north of Mumbai.  Rajiv's wife has some family up there, and in fact, her cousin Vishal had planned the whole weekend out for us.  When we arrived, we were warmly welcomed and went out to lunch in an auto-rickshaw (an open door, three-wheeled vehicle which has room to seat three people, but often seats many more.  We didn't go too crazy- we only had four people in our rickshaw.)  As for the restaurant... It was exactly like Fogo de Chao (except with Indian vegetables instead of Brazilian steak haha).  Basically, waiters continuously walked around with trays of different vegetables, breads, and sweets and kept piling food on our plates.  All you can eat Indian buffet delivered to your table.  Score!  The food was absolutely delicious.  In fact, it was my favorite meal in India so far.  There is a saying: "Surat nu jaman ane Kashi nu maran!” (Fortunate is the man who can dine in Surat and die in Kashi!)  In other words, Surat is known for their food.  They are also known for their fun.

Me and my patang.

The reason we went up to Surat for the weekend was for acclaimed Utran, the Hindu kite-flying festival.  (Even though it is a Hindu festival, every religion celebrates it.  In fact, that is one thing that people like about Surat; since there are so many religions, there are a lot of festivals.  And since everyone celebrates every festival, regardless of religion... That is a lot of fun lol.)  Every year, on the night of January 13th, the streets of Surat are closed off so people can bid on and buy kites.  For the next three days, everyone from the city goes up on the rooftops and flies their kites.  When I say everyone, I mean EVERYONE.  We arrived on the 14th, so although we did not get to experience the kite-bidding, we did get to enjoy the main part of the festival.  Vishal had bought 150 kites for us the day before, so we were set!

Now you may be asking, "150 kites?!?! That is so many!! Why would anyone ever need 150 kites???"  Let me be a little more specific: This is not just kite flying, this is kite fighting.  The goal is to keep your kite in the air as long as possible while cutting down the other kites in the sky.  The kite string used is extremely thin, pretty weak (you can rip it if you yank somewhat hard), and covered in a broken-glass powder to facilitate cutting down other kites. If I was able to keep my kite up for more than two minutes, I considered it a success.  There were A LOT of kites in the sky.

You can tell that Vishal (black shirt) is excited to fly some kites!!  He actually is a very good dancer; he used to choreograph Bollywood dances, but now just occasionally choreographs dances for Indian weddings.

Now I will attempt to set the scene for you and post a bunch of pictures/video, but no matter how detailed my description, no matter how clear the pictures, nothing will compare to actually being there and seeing it for yourself.  There were two giant speakers on the roof, blasting everything from YMCA to Waving Flag to Mambo No. 5 to a bunch of Indian songs.  There were around 30 people on my roof, all of whom were extremely nice, most of whom did not speak very much English.  It took two people to fly each kite; one to hold the spool and one to actually direct the kite (let it go higher, bring it down, steer it around strings to avoid getting cut, etc.).  My roof had at least 10 kites in the air at any given time, and when people were not flying kites, they prepping their next kite to go up in the air.  Watching someone prepare a kite for flight was actually pretty entertaining.  You have to poke four holes in it, loop a small piece of string through them, tie it tight, tie that string to a spool of string, and then rub the kite on your head in order to bend the corners of the kite upwards to give it better lift.  People would bang on metal pans and chant when they cut down a kite.  It was insane.

Flying a kite with my assistant, Rajiv.

When the sun finally began to set, some people on other roofs began shooting off fireworks.  Other roofs flew kites with candles attached.  My roof?  We chose to dance.

and dance

and dance.

Around 9:00, we decided that it was about time to pack it up and head to dinner.  The restaurant we decided to go to was 20 km away (about 12 miles).  How did I get there?

Yep.  Motorcycle.  I was pretty scared of riding on the back of a motorcycle in all of that crazy traffic (without a helmet), but I didn't have to worry; I wasn't in the back, I was in the middle.  Yep, three people on the bike. But its okay, we didn't drive too fast.  Remember all those kites that people had been flying all day?  Well, sooner or later, every single one was cut down.  When a kite got cut down, it either fell to the ground, was caught by someone on another rooftop, or got stuck in a tree/on an electrical wire.  In the last case, though the main part of the kite was stuck on the wire, its string would dangle in the road.  The glass covered, nearly invisible string.  Driving slowly was a legitimate precaution- he didn't want any of us to cut our faces or throats on these hanging strings.  That actually happens.  (I didn't find that out until the next day.  If I had known, I would have never hopped on the motorcycle.)  Therefore, the following video I took while on the motorcycle does not do justice to India's traffic (which is usually much more intense), but it should at least give you a idea about how crazy it is.


Dinner was also amazing.  Surprise surprise.  Nothing much else happened that night, just went back to Vishal's place and crashed there.  Though there were a lot of people staying at their apartment, I was given my own room, with my own bathroom and everything.  Which was good, since later that night/the next morning I fell sick.  However, it was an Indian style toilet.  Never used one before.  Wasn't exactly the ideal time to figure it out, but ah well.  Shit happens.

This is India, Man!

The Coconut Guy cutting a spoon out of the shell.
What a Champ! 

I have heard Rajiv say that same phrase so many times over the last few days.  The first time he said it was Tuesday morning, my first morning in India.  I was surprised to see a man selling coconut water on the street.  Basically, the man takes a young coconut (which is filled with coconut-flavored water; it's much lighter than coconut milk), shaves part of the top off, cuts a hole in it, and sticks a straw in it.  Now there are two types of these coconuts: ones with some coconut meat on the inside, and ones without it.  He can tell the difference just by tapping on the coconut.  The first day, I had one without the meat, and the second day I had it with.  Upon having the second kind, I became very confused; I couldn't tell the difference between the different types.  When I finished drinking the coconut water, however, he took the coconut from me, cut a much larger hole into the top, scraped the meat off the walls of the coconut, and sliced a spoon out of the outside of the coconut.  The coconut was simultaneousness the food, the bowl, and the spoon.  That is this guy's job.  What an awesome way to make a living!  And know how much it costs?  Only 15 rupees.  30 cents.  To make things better, he delivers them to your house.  Yes, I get fresh coconuts delivered every morning.  This is India, man!

Chillin with the Coconut Guy

The first morning, after breakfast, we went to get lunch at a very good restaurant called Cafe Madrás.  For breakfast, we each got idlis, mysore dosa, and coffee.  Delicious food, and as soon as we finished each item (literally seconds later), the waiter was there to pick up our dishes and ask if we wanted anything else.  We were in the restaurant for a total of 18 minutes.  I am not sure how they managed to prepare and serve fresh food so quickly, but hey, I am not complaining.  Another interesting fact about the restaurant- even though there are tables, there is no such thing as "one party to a table".  If there is a seat available, and someone wants to eat, they are seated there.  We had three different parties sitting at our 4-person table.  Pretty cool.  Total cost of our meal?  Including a 20% tip, 90 rupees.  That is $2.  For the both of us.  This is India, man!

Another time we went to a restaurant, I ordered mysore rava dosa, but after I ordered, I decided that I wanted masala with it as well.  (Masala is a potato filling which you can get with dosa.  I will have a whole post on food soon, so don't worry!)  The next time the waiter walked by, I asked him to bring some masala on the side.  Well, my dosa came out a few minutes later, but not the masala.  When the waiter walked by a few seconds later, Rajiv asked again in Hindi for him to bring me some masala.  A minute later, when the waiter walked by without it, another man at my table flagged down the waiter and yelled at him; this man, whom I had never met nor spoken to before, was extremely irritated because I did not get my masala yet.  15 seconds later, my masala arrived.  This is India, man!

One day we were walking to the bank to set up an account for me, when a man yelled to Rajiv and they spoke for a good five minutes.  The entire conversation was in Hindi, but apparently it went something like this:  This man had seen Rajiv in the market a few times, and one time Rajiv was speaking to one of this man's friends.  Therefore, this stranger wanted to introduce himself and meet Rajiv.  He told Rajiv where he lives so that if Rajiv were ever in the area and needed anything, he should just come over and ask.  This stranger then went on to invite Rajiv over to his apartment for lunch, right then and there.  Rajiv declined, because we had things to do, but that is incredible.  That would never happen in America.  This is India, man!

A few days before I arrived in India, something similar happened to Rajiv.  He was on his way to VJTI (Veermata Jijabai Technological Institute, the university at which Rajiv is teaching), when a man and his wife stopped him in the street.  They had seen Rajiv enter the university a few times over the last few days, and they were extremely confused.  He was wearing shorts, so he couldn't be a faculty, but he looked too old to be a student.  After seeing him a few times, the man decided that he needed to stop Rajiv and find out who exactly he is.  They spoke in the street for over an hour, and they invited Rajiv over to their apartment for dinner.  This is India, man!

Back in December, Rajiv sent me an email informing me that I had to be careful crossing the street.  I chuckled to myself; it can't be that bad, right?  Wrong.  First of all, the roads are very wide, maybe 4 lanes across, yet there are no actual lanes painted on the road.  People drive wherever there is space.  For this reason alone, there are a lot of motorcycles; there isn't a lot of space on the roads, and since motorcycles are smaller, it is easier to weave in and out of traffic with them.  Oh, another thing I learned- motorcycles can fit more than 2 people.  Apparently they can fit a family of four, sometimes more.  And helmets?  No way.  One good/slightly annoying thing is that everyone honks their horn.  All the time.  There is rarely a moment between 7 AM and 7 PM when I do not hear a car horn.  Well, okay Sean, that doesn't sound THAT crazy.  So what, no lanes.  Just cross the street at a red light!  I would, if cars ever stopped.  Yes, there are traffic lights, but nobody ever follows them.  NOBODY.  If there is a red light, it's not like one car will run the light.  Every single car will run the light.  Every.  Single.  One.  Traffic will just keep going until there is a small opening and the cars from the side street decide to go.  This is not Haddonfield.  There is no such thing as "yielding to pedestrians".  Might is Right.  The bigger the vehicle, the crazier they will drive.  If you venture out into the street, and there is a car in the distance headed in your direction, they will speed up.  Not because they want to hit you, they just want to time it perfectly so that as soon as you cross their path, they are whizzing by you.  Its especially scary when that vehicle happens to be a bulldozer.  This is India, man!

What I love most about India is the general attitude about life.  Even though I have not encountered anyone who is rich, people are not overly concerned with money.  For instance, the coconut man has never asked for money; when you ask "How much?", he will tell you.  Even though that is how he makes a living, he is more concerned about you enjoying his coconut water.  In fact, that is EXACTLY what I love; people want to do whatever they can to see others happy.  One night, Rajiv and I went out to the market to get some street food for dinner.  I ordered a Veggie Toast sandwich from one stand, and as it was heating up, he got some pani puri from another stand a block away.  Pani puri is basically a fried shell filled with chick peas and spicy water.  Anyways, as Rajiv was eating them, he began talking in Hindi to one of the kids working there.  The kid asked if I wanted some pani puri, but Rajiv told him that I cannot have them yet because of the water;  I don't want to get sick from the water this early on.  The kid then asked what I was going to have for dinner- it was already 8:50 and everything would close in 10 minutes.  Rajiv then told him that I was going to have a sandwich.  Concerned about the time constraint, the kid asked Rajiv if we wanted him to run over to the sandwich stall and order me a sandwich.  Rajiv laughed and informed him that we already ordered it, we were just waiting for it to finish toasting.  Relieved, the kid filled up a shell with some of the chick pea filling, and handed it to me without the spicy water.  "I can't let you leave empty handed."  This is India, man.

Living Conditions

Kitchen/Laundry Room

Lounge Area

Elaine's Room

My Bathroom.  Love the shower placement.

Where my sleeping occurs.

Leaving America

Let me preface this by saying that I have never kept a journal nor diary nor blog.  For that matter, I haven't written much at all this past year.  I have just started keeping a diary, and now, at the request of a few friends, am creating a blog while in India.  In other words, I am completely new to this.  Don't hate.

Anyways...  My last few hours before leaving America were so hectic.  I said some goodbyes Sunday night, bought a suitcase Monday morning, said more goodbyes early that afternoon, finished packing by 3:00, and by 3:15, I was in the car, off to Newark International Airport.  That is called being productive.

I only had two bags- one to be checked, and one carry-on.  The weight limits on them were 70lbs and 40lbs, respectively.  I was actually pretty close to both weights, according to my scale at home (62lbs and 32lbs).  Normally bags wouldn't weigh that much, but Rajiv had asked me to bring a few textbooks for him, and I had to bring a few of my own.  I think there were a total of 11 textbooks between the two bags.  Crazy, I know.  When I went to check my bag, I placed it on their scale and it weighed....72lbs.  Out of curiosity, I placed my carry-on on the scale as well.  42lbs.  Eff.  Fortunately, I had packed my backpack into the bag I was checking, and since that is technically a personal item, I packed that with a few textbooks to gets both bags down to the proper weights.  Success.

I love my white board.  Best.  Investment.  Ever.

Next stop-security.  As always, I got set off the alarm.  Forgot to take off my belt.  Did the exact same thing Senior Trip, when we were headed off to Disney.  Yep, I got patted down and everything.  Fail.

I had a few hours to kill before I had to board my plane (8:20 PM flight), so I decided to have a classic American cuisine for my last meal in the US- a burger and fries.  At this point, I started to get a little bit nervous.  By the time I boarded the plane, I was nervous to the point that it made my stomach hurt.  In fact, it hurt the whole plane ride.  I mean, I expected to have stomach pains while IN India, but even on my way there?  That's just nonsense.  However, the flight was not all bad.  In fact, it was amazing.  Despicable Me.  American Beauty.  Inception.  Lots of sleep.  What more could I ask for?

15 hours later (9:42 PM, India time), our plane landed in Mumbai.  The walk to Customs was at least 3/4 of a mile, no joke.  But it felt great to stretch my legs, so its all good.  On the plane they had given us a paper to fill out and hand to the guy at Customs, and it asked for my address and phone number in India.  I had no idea what they were.  I still have no idea what they are. I was a tiny bit nervous, but I managed to talk my way out of it, and got through Customs.  Next- baggage claim.  Our bags didn't come for a solid hour.  This whole time, Rajiv was waiting for me outside, and I started to get nervous, because my plane had landed at 9:40 and it was now close to 11:00.  If he left, or if I couldn't find him, I had absolutely no way to contact him.  Fortunately, the gods were with us that day, and I found him as soon as I stepped outside the airport.





The outer part of the airport was really cool.  It reminded me of The Today Show; I was standing in an open square (where the reporters would stand) which was surrounded by hundreds of Indians, bunched up behind small metal fences, waving at everyone who exited the airport.  I wish I had taken a picture, but that was not my first priority at the moment.  When I found Rajiv, we got a prepaid taxi and headed off to our apartment.  (The airport urges everyone to use their prepaid taxi service, because I guess there are other taxi drivers there who promise a lower price, but then end up ripping you off.)  By the time he gave me a tour of the apartment, it was after midnight.  I was starving, so we went on a short walk, got some pav bhaji (delicious!), and then walked back home.  By 1:30, I was fast asleep.