Chandigarh: Day 2

Dr. J sent a car for me! A car! It was like a miracle. I had gotten to the botany department very early, and made friends with the security guard and janitor, and sat and learned how to count to fifteen, finally. I mean, in Hindi, obviously. But by 10, as I was writing a note to Dr. J that I’d be late to the appointment because I hadn’t realized when “office hours” started, she called to say she’d sent the car my way. So I hied myself back to the hostel and waited.

And it was awesome! Pure white, outside and in, with white curtains that kept it cool. Even white curtains covering the whole back window (another traffic observation is back windows are completely unnecessary here, as the term “cut someone off” would have no meaning whatsoever, given the driving habits).

Dr. J was amazingly helpful, giving me several reports, in hardcopy, that were chock full of information I could use. About the state of the environment in Punjab. I was there a few hours, and while I didn’t do an interview, I think I got the most information in a two hour stint a I have from anyone so far. She then sent me back in the car as well. I didn’t know if I should tip the driver. I hate how sometimes tipping is offensive, and sometimes not tipping is offensive. Not just in India, where I don’t know the cultural rules, but in the U.S. too. I hate having to tip in person. Andy and I have discussed this.

But anyway, he dropped me off at the botany lab, where I met a student in the computer lab, who was doing her PhD with the hydrologist I was set to meet later that afternoon. So I went in and got an early meeting with her. She agreed to be filmed, and we did a very short interview, though I’m concerned about the file because of my computer not working. I can’t get it onto my jump drive either, probably because of the computers here in the lab.

Then I went over to speak with someone in the geology department. His office was filled with rocks, on shelves. To my untrained eye, they all looked exactly the same, but you wouldn’t put hundreds of the same rock on a shelf, would you? Anyway, he’s more of a surface water expert while Dr. Rishi is more of a groundwater expert (hence her short, though helpful, interview). We made an appointment to meet tomorrow. He was late for lunch.

After lunch, I spent hours writing and sending letters of request for data. I’m always shocked at how long that process takes. Writing, reading, attaching all the pertinent documents, not to mention that I’m still often having to track down the contact information for whomever I’m writing to. I know I’ve written many of these requests already, but have received no response. Without my “planner” from my computer, I’m kind of lost a to what I already have and haven’t done.

Now it’s almost 6, and I’ve been in the computer lab almost 4 hours, doing almost all work stuff, despite my 14 personal emails (several just short one, worried about the bombing).

I’ll have lots of time tonight to peruse those reports. Or maybe not peruse, since peruse actually mean to go through with a fine-tooth comb, and they are rather long and detailed reports. But you know what I mean—the colloquial “peruse.”

After all my letter-writing today, I’m tempted to sign off…

Sincerely,
Sarah C Dickerson

Chandigarh: Day 1

I got up as early as I could the next morning, but I knew there wasn’t much I could do before checking out of this hotel, and getting the other guest house stuff straightened. I talked to Dr. Kohli, the contact I’d made by emailing the environmental department cold from the website address, and he very kindly got me into the last guest house opening, in the faculty house. So, perhaps once again I will be mistaken for a French lecturer (as Jenny and I continually were at LBSNAA). The room has no AC, and as far as I can tell, no sheets or pillows. I’ve been so tired, it hasn’t mattered much so far.

I agreed to meet with the professor after lunch so I could go up to the BBMB and talk with Mr. R.B. again. He was extremely helpful, and very complimentary of my salwar-kameez (Sara’s). He gave me many reports, and thing that were already publicly available, and we met with the secretary, who agreed that data could be shared if it was for research. Therefore, I need to get a memo stating that I am doing research, and also put my request into writing. Mr. R.B. is going to a dam site for the next two days, so I will get back with him Thursday. I thought about going with him there, as he kindly invited me, but after I spoke with the university people, I realized that would be too much time spent there.

So Dr. Kohli was incredibly helpful and interesting. He talked about allelopathy and cell phone radiation, which scared me into wanting a landline when I get home. I then met his associates, two other PhD’s, and they spent a long time trying to fix my computer. They were so kind and helpful! Afterwards, they took me to the market to buy my dinner and some other food to keep in my room (granola bars and some fruit, and PEANUT BUTTER!), and then I rode back with the gentleman on his scooter, no small feat considering I was carrying four bags of groceries, and trying not to grip the hell out of his poor shoulder. Luckily he was a very good driver. He was also a very good person. He helped me select the best bananas (which I can attest are excellent bananas), and helped me choose a cheap knife (which he tested gingerly against his thumb, in such a manner that made me feel he really knew knives, and had appraised this one as a good deal; I can also attest that this is a good knife) for fruits.

On the way back, I asked why no one wears helmets. It’s not just because this is the Punjab region, and every other man has a turban. As Elizabeth Gilbert noticed, it’s not that people don’t buy helmets—they often ride with them inexplicably tucked under one arm. Just as I asked about it, someone passed us, wearing a helmet. But as soon as he was in the university gates, he took it off. I was told you don’t have to wear them in the university grounds. It made me think of seat belt stories, which are as follow:

1- While riding in the car from Dehradun to Delhi a few weeks back, the kid in the car with me kept telling me I didn’t have to wear my seatbelt, that it was only required in the city. They thought I was uncomfortable with it around my neck. But they didn’t understand I’d be more uncomfortable without it, sitting in the front seat, with all the near-miss accidents we’d experienced thus far.

2- Mr. R.B., when he took me around the city, had fake seat belts. They were just straps that you could lay across your front, and they looked like seatbelts (for the cops), but didn’t attached to anything. There wasn’t even a buckle. It was just straps. I found this hilarious.

So anyway, personal safety hasn’t entered the public consciousness here, as it has at least in my demographic of the US. Maybe not in Louisiana. Which reminds me of another interesting story. Mr. R.B. saw I was from Louisiana, and informed me that he was the exact same caste as Governor Jindal. I guess that’s a coincidence? It’s so interesting to me that people even know that kind of stuff, for some Podunk state in America. I guess it’s a big deal, though.

Oh, and the bombings are of course on all the channels, which is disturbing. It just feels a lot more real when your in the same country. I was in a town called Rajpur the day after the blasts, and that was coincidentally the name of one of the areas hit. That’s disturbing, I’d say.

In the evening, I met with Dr. and Mr. Jerath, whose son was going to UT. They came to my hostel, and had lots of questions for me, only some of which could I answer. They were very kind, and luckily, Dr. Jerath has a lot of information she is happy to share with me regarding irrigation in the Punjab region. She’s a scientist, and her husband is an irrigation engineer. Amazing coincidence, and really useful!

Travel Day: Dehradun to Chandigarh

I got up early and was the first one at breakfast (I guess everyone was tired from the party, which Alex and I only made an appearance at). It was dosas, and I thought it was good, but then again, I haven’t had much problem with the WII food like everyone else does.

The next morning, I ordered a car to the ISBT and Alex and Molly came along for the ride, since they were going to Rishikesh. It was really nice to have them there. Just having someone there seems to make it all go smoother. At least you know you have someone to talk to if everything goes wrong. But everything went right, I was on the right bus, for half as much as the car cost me (150 v. 300). It was a long ride, with two stops, and I was as usual covered in dust by the time we arrived. Also, wet from the rain that happened during hour 4. I had the worst seatmate in history, asleep and spreading out the whole time.

When we got off, I called Mr. R.B. of the BBMB because he seemed eager to help. I had been calling him during the trip, and he told me he lives near the Chandigarh ISBT (sector 43), and even offered to come get me if I could wait a while. I told him it was a really nice offer, but as I was surrounded by rickshaw drivers, I would just go with one of them to the University Guest House, although I hadn’t been able to get in touch with them successfully. Maybe it was for the best that my cycle rickshaw driver hijacked me and took me to what must be Chandigarh’s most ghetto hotel (sector 42). I really had to be OK with the roaches just running around willy nilly. I HAD to. After I got there, I mentioned this to Mr. R.B., and he came right over to argue with them. I told him it was OK, but then sat down and talked with him a while. He decided to take me to meet his family, and then on a driving tour of the city. So, despite inauspicious beginnings. Chandigarh was starting to be my favorite city I’d visited yet.

Travel Day: Mussorie to Dehradun (WII)

After Mussorie, another nightmare of a day traveling. I took an overpriced car to the ashram, where they dropped me off at the wrong place after about 30 minute of driving around looking for it. So they just abandoned me with all my stuff at the bottom of a Incan pyramid-esque staircase. I walked all the way up with my huge backpack, only to find it was not the ashram, but a school. Finally, Swati sent someone to find me, and we walked over to the ashram, and she gave me something to settle my stomach (first serious stomach pains). It was lemonade with pepper basically, but it did the trick. She was a very calming influence, and I liked her very much. Perhaps someday I will return to study Iyengar yoga in full. Then I took the bus the rest of the way into town, which was surprisingly both the cheapest and simplest leg of the trip. People were hanging off the outside, yelling the whole time. It was great! I had a pretty sweet seat up front, with my stuff, since I got on outside of the city.

I went to Café Coffee Day, and regrouped. Read Eat Pray Love, had some caffeine. Then got a rickshaw driver to bring me to the ISBT in Dehradun, so I could see about getting a bus ticket to Chandigarh. They told me to come back the day I was traveling, so I capitulated, slightly annoyed that I had made the trip for nothing. I offered a rickshaw driver half of what they first suggested to get to the Wildlife Institute, and one guy agreed at once. The others immediately undersold him, but I agreed to go with the guy that first met my price because I read that it’s incredibly rude not to.

I got to the WII, and got my stored bag from them. I went through all my stuff, which incidentally was filled with Wildlife, and I had to kill much of it. Not the stuff, the wildlife.

I went to the computer lab and chilled out because my computer had died while I was at LBS in Musoorie. Mostly checked personal emails. Then when I came back, Alex said he’d be back in about 2 hours, so I finished up my book, and waited for him, meditating. He came back, and we had a great time catching up before we went over to the party in the old hostel (where most of the Indian students live—we are put up in New Hostel, which is bigger and nicer, but not as social). I got to see Jenny and Molly again, and everyone else (Sahas, Asif, are the only names I remember now).

week in mussoorie

My week at Mussoorie was spent reading books and trying to order the same books from the bookstore. We talked with people, but it wasn’t very directed networking. I spoke with a couple of the administrative people, and they assured me they’d get me together with some Phase III people from the states I needed before Phase III went to Duke University, but that never happened. Perhaps I should have pressured them more, rather than talk to multiple people about it. Especially since we were banned from Phase III classes (Jenny what did you DO??), I didn’t get much time to network with them. That pretty much sums up my time in Musoorie.

pictures!

me and Dr. Asawa

Dr. Asawa
me and Dr. Jha

Not strictly a documentation of my work, but let's be honest, much of this journal isn't. It's a documentation of my time, and here are pictures to document that I actually met these people.

Mussoorie: LBSNAA part I

Jenny was still too tired this morning to go to breakfast. I waited for her to maybe change her mind and did some yoga. I was all dressed in Sara’s salwar-kameez for the interview she was going to do with IIP in Dehradun. Eventually, I went to breakfast alone. It was delicious, and I met one person, whose name I’ve already forgotten unfortunately. He was in Phase II, and was very nice. It’s always easy to start conversation by asking “What’s this?” about the food (it was coconut chutney, incidentally). It happened that we were sitting next to each other, too, by coincidence, although we’d met in line.

I’m nervous about all the “networking” I’m meant to do in this week. I’m feeling pretty low because of the altitude, though not as bad as that one afternoon in Leh when I ran out of my medication for it. But I just feel headachy, and generally achy. And tired. That weird all-over tiredness from altitude sickness. But luckily, not much nausea, and eating seems to help the other symptoms. Eating and drinking water. So I’m doing lots of that. Jenny wasn’t feeling well (maybe the altitude’s getting to her too) so she rescheduled her appointment with IIP till tomorrow. So I changed out of my salwar-kameez into something more warm, because it’s rather cold up here. There’s so much fog, it’s really like being smack in the middle of a cloud.

Anyway, Rakesh came to take us around the grounds and show us things. We might be able to ride horses some time while we’re here! I’d have to get my stuff from the WII, because my jeans and sneakers are in there. But it would be cool to do. The rest of the tour was great, too, although we found out Kalpana, our original contact here, had left the academy entirely. She had just asked Rakesh to take good care of us, which was really nice of her. We also met her more-or-less replacement, who was similarly nice and helpful, so at least we aren’t left hanging here. The replacement’s name was Arti Huzar, or something like that. I’m trying to remember all these names without the benefit of cards—just hearing the name said once, and it’s hard. But she said I would benefit most from sitting in on the Phase III people’s classes because they’re the mid-career people, and would have more contacts for me. She also said she’d try to introduce me specifically to some people from the states I’m interested in (Punjab, HP, and J&K).

Rakesh said we’d be able to borrow some books from the library, which would be great because I’m really comfortable in my room, and wouldn’t mind taking out some books on water resources, and just curling up to read, as unfriendly as that sounds. I need some time to do that if I’m going to be spending the rest of my time networking, I think. At least both things will be productive.

We ended the tour by sitting in on part of a phase III class, on e-governance and service. We’ll have to check the schedules to find classes more suited to us. So far, no luck on finding a class called “Governance issues and the Indus Waters Treaty.” Dang it.

I was going to go to the library to see about catching up on a little current events (there’s a reading room that has The Economist and other such publication), and also see about checking out some of the water resource books I spotted last time I was here. But by now it was drizzling pretty hard, so I decided to come back to the room for a bit, since Jenny was already anyway. She has to work on some article for her “other” work here. I just wanted to catch up on a few days of this journal. Hopefully the rain has let up by now.

We did work out how we’ll get down to Dehradun for the rescheduled meeting tomorrow. Bus, or share-taxi, and then rickshaw. We’ll do a few other errands in town if we’re there too early, like get our phone minutes charged, and I might just go get my stuff from WII, even though it means lugging that stupid suitcase with me to Chandigarh. I wish I could take it to Delhi and leave it at Jenny’s, and then take the nice train from Delhi to Chandigarh. As it is, I’ll have to take a bus from Dehradun to Chandigarh. But maybe I can take a train back, since I’ll be doing my Delhi interview directly after that. Depending on what central government contacts I can make, I might skip Simla so I have more time in Delhi. I can’t believe Delhi is the last leg of this trip! Then home, blessed home, and Virginia, blessed second home.

Travel Day: Roorkee to Mussoorie

Got up early to get to breakfast at 8 on the dot, though it turns out they aren’t actually read when they say they are. So I went to get my book and read it, and at 8:20, they were ready with some toast. I had 6 pieces, with lots of jelly. I kind of regretted this later, but I was hungry at the time.

I checked out of the hostel, finished the last minute packing, gave the room a thrice-over, and then went to wait for the cycle rickshaw they said they ordered me. I waited about 20 minutes before they noticed me and said it should be there by now. One guy went out on his scooter to find me one. I told him I was going to the train station because I wanted to try to meet Jenny’s train at 10:38, and I knew there were some seats left, or at least there were last night at midnight. But I heard him telling the rickshaw guy to take me to the bus stand! I corrected him again, but he just nodded. I said “train station!” and they asked “railway station?” really doubtfully, but I assure them that I really meant the railway station. So finally, I got on the rickshaw, and the guy asked me “Bus stand?” and I said “No, railway station.” “Train station?” he asked. Yes! What is so difficult to understand about this? Maybe it was really far away or something. Because after agreeing to take me to the train station, he took me to the bus stand, then tried to obscenely overcharge me. I feel particularly guilty about cycle rickshaws because it’s so much physical work on their part, but I was dumbfounded by this whole transaction. But there was a bus for Dehradun, so I got on it. And now I know why the other bus was called “Deluxe.” This one was a series of benches made for people whose femurs are no longer than 1 foot, apparently. And when it rained (which it definitely did), huge blasts of water came in through a loose window and drenched me. Just me. Just me and my travel luck. But I did arrive at the bus station, where it was flooding, alive, and only sopping wet with filthy water. So, that was a blessing. Or something.

It took me a while to find a rickshaw, but I eventually did, and he seemed pretty nice. I told him to take me to the train station, (“railway station?” “yes”; I just put these conversations in here because I KNOW these guys understood what I said, they’re just pushing their own agenda somehow). He took me to a taxi stand. I think it was because I had mentioned I was going to Mussoorie, and there are no trains to Mussoorie. But I explained I was meeting a friend, and he took me to the station. I sat for a while reading, until a guy next to me asked if I was reading a book about yoga (he must have read over my shoulder because I’m reading the part of Eat Pray Love that takes place in an ashram). We talked a bit, but I was glad when Jenny’s train finally arrived an hour after I got the station. I found our driver, and then spotted Jenny in the crowd.

Our driver drove crazy, which was kind of scary on those mountain passes, and we both got a little car sick. But it was better than the bus ride last time. We got to our rooms, which are swank, then we went straight to lunch. Which was delicious, I thought. I napped in the afternoon because I was so tired from sleeping poorly and being so nervous all day about traveling, and then gorging myself at lunch because I was so hungry from my early breakfast of a mountain of toast. I will be glad not to have the Roorkee hostel food again. It really was awful. Except the sliver of strawberry ice cream they gave me once at lunch.

There’s even internet in our rooms, and the sink doesn’t drain by dripping all the way across the bathroom floor (full of your toothpaste spit or whatever) to a drain in the floor. It has a little trough that it goes through to get to the shower drain. And they have toilet paper and trash cans and a towel. Like I said, swank.

Jenny didn’t want to come to dinner (she’s also very tired), so I went alone and sat in the middle of a bunch of elderly gentlemen. It was only slightly awkward. They were nice enough to my presence, but we didn’t talk about much. I thought dinner was good, but they didn’t have the delicious butter naan that they’d had at lunch.

I came back, wrote a few emails, both personal and official, made a few Skype calls home, and then went to sleep to have strange dreams. I think I have strange dreams all the time in India because I’m always in a new place, and people have strange dreams in hotels and new places.

Transribed Asawa’s interview and edited it slightly to put on the disc for him. The editing was an ordeal. Read through the Brahminutra Basin book that Dr. Ojha gave me, and called him at about 5 so his student could come pick it up. I gave him the disc, too, since Asawa wasn’t in his office.

Finished editing the transcription for Dorjay back in Leh, and sent that on to Moses Kunzang. The video file got kicked back twice for being too big, so hopefully he at least got the transcript.

Got annoyed with the sound quality of my interviews, and just after that, I found a little electronics shop right by the hostel, where I got a microphone for 200. I also got some candy bars for the trip tomorrow. Tried to get to bed early, but couldn’t sleep well, probably from being nervous about travel tomorrow. So I wrote a lot of letters and did things that were nagging me about the upcoming semester and such. Felt a little better, but still didn’t sleep well. Keep having nightmares.

Roorkee Day 2

I think the milk must be making me sick, because this was the second morning in a row that I really couldn’t stand up properly due to stomach cramps, but then was fine a few hours later. But after I was better, I went to see Dr. Jha of the National Institute for Hydrology (whom I had met a couple of months ago), who it seemed had not gotten any of my emails at all for some reason. I double checked when I got back, against the card he gave me, and it was the right email, so it must have been going to the spam folder. It’s too bad because he’s been such a help. He once again got me some good contacts in the places I need them. We sat and chatted for more than an hour, and then he drove me to the Hydrology Department, which was embarrassingly right next door. But it was really sweet of him to drive me. He’s moving to Rourkela, or some such town, to teach at the NIT. I’m glad for him, but I hope he gets my emails in the future, or else we won’t be able to keep in touch! He’s really such a kind man. We took a picture of the two of us together.

I went to the Hydrology Department and talked to the head of the department, who was very busy. He’d gotten my emails but hadn’t responded because he didn’t think he had anything to say about the matter (so he just ignored them, ha). He said the state governments, irrigation boards, for all the appropriate states are who I want to talk to. I don’t know how best to put that I know those are good contacts, but everyone’s opinions are valuable to me. However I’m putting it, it’s not working to get them to talk about what they know. In this case, I’m sure it’s because it was near the end of the day, and he hadn’t expected me to come by.

So afterwards, I went into town to find the bookshop. But failed utterly. I did get a little lost, which I normally would enjoy while traveling, but here, as Jenny puts it, I’m the White Girl Freak Show, and everyone stares. Ginny nailed it when she said it’s because (the both of us) are sure when we’re being stared at, it’s because we’re doing something wrong. So when it happens all the time, every time we leave the door, it’s discouraging. Especially when you don’t even find the dang bookshop you were looking for. Oh well. I still have tomorrow, even though I’m counting on it to transcribe interviews and read try to read as much of that book as I can. I’ve only achieved mapping out which chapters would be best to read, so that’s a start anyway. Not all 500 pages—that wasn’t going to happen anyway. I wish I were a speed reader, but I’m not. At all.

I did eventually find my way back, under the watchful eye of EVERYONE IN ROORKEE. I felt pretty proud of finding my way back, actually.

Some kids locked me in my room. I thought I was SOL, but then I found a phone and a phonebook, so that was lucky. Someone came to rescue me, and we both had a laugh. Dang kids, get off my lawn!! The reason they can do this (just an interesting side note, one of those things that might never get mentioned) is that the way doors are generally locked around here is with a deadbolt on the outside, and then a padlock. So even without a padlock, people could just slide the deadbolt in place and lock you inside your room. And then set a fire and kill you. So even though I didn’t have anywhere important to go, I thought it was important to get that taken care of right away. It’s really the fire issue that makes me realize it’s not such a clever idea to have deadbolts on the outside, as clever as it is in ways.

As I said, I should be spending this time on work, not on this “explaining why I did not get productive work done” thing I’ve got going. If it BECOMES the reason I don’t get work done, that would be crazy!