30 Before 30

The Official List

2012-02-05T22:06:00.000-07:00

Goals That Only Have To Be Done Once

1. Go to Africa.

2. Watch at least part of every episode of the original Law and Order.
3. Memorize "We Didn't Start The Fire" by Billy Joel.
4. Go on a road trip.
5. Do at least one thing from the Phineas and Ferb theme song.
6. Participate in a craft show.
7. Achieve 30 likes on a Facebook comment of some kind.
8. Responsibly toilet paper a house.
9. Kiss a boy and like it. (This one is courtesy of Marie Rich, Eric Olsen and Brother Johnson)
10. Get a pedicure.
11. Grow a chia pet.
12. Crochet an altar cloth for the Gilbert temple.
13. Go to the Van Halen concert.
14. Redo my kitchen table and paint my chairs.
15. Dye my hair a different color.
16. Go cliff jumping.
17. Have a party celebrating a ridiculous holiday.
18. Do some sort of musical act on Mill Ave with Ami Blamires and Ben Little and see if we get any money.

Goals That Have to Be Done More Than Once To Be Counted
19. Finish typing up my mom and dad's mission journals.
20. Finish at least 3 craft project for which I have had the supplies for more than three years.
21. Figure out my own answer to the question "What's good about men?"
22. Go on some hikes in Arizona.
23. Go to at least 5 midnight premieres, including at least one where I have no desire whatsoever to see the movie being premiered.
24. Plan two weddings.

Goals That Only Count If I Do Them Regularly
25. Learn to change my own oil and do it regularly.
26. Be a 100% visiting teacher.
27. Regularly do and put away my laundry.
28. Eat at least 3 meals a week that contain some kind of nutrients, preferably those of the plant variety. (Sunday dinner doesn't count.)
29. Blog regularly. Or at least semi regularly. Or write a book.
30. Eat something delicious at least once a week.

Thoughts on the Inauguration

2009-01-21T22:01:00.002-07:00

My brother marched with his high school band in the Inaugural parade so I watched the entire thing waiting to see him. Just when his band was entering the screen they stopped broadcasting the live coverage. I saw the flags, I guess. I was actually really annoyed about it. I really wanted to see my brother and that was a whole day wasted. However, it does mean I saw the entire inauguration. So here are two lists:
Things I loved:
Aretha Franklin's Hat
The fact that Barack Obama and the Justice messed up the oath (I always love when someone messes up in a huge moment.)
Michelle Obama's scarf
The sight of two million American flags waving
When Obama said it's not about the government being too big or too small, it's about looking at what works and going with that
Katie Couric calling Fallout Boy, Fallout Box when she was trying to say who would be at the youth ball
People walking on the frozen reflecting pool
Al Roker trying to get noticed by Obama
The fact that Michelle Obama wouldn't let go of the President's hand
The clarinet player in the YoYo Ma and Itzak Pearlman quartet
The way the news cameras stayed on every single Native American in the parade

Things I hated:
Katie Couric trying to tell a story about JFK's inauguration and black people in one of the bands... and failing
Hearing that story four times before her failed attempt
Everything Brian Williams said
Ted Kennedy's seizure coverage
Pretty much anyone who was interviewed by anyone just because they happened to be standing next to a reporter
The word historic
Actually, just mainstream press coverage in general. So obnoxious. I'm going back to Comedy Central as soon as I have cable again.

Those were my thoughts. Yeah for hope and change and my brother's band.

I went to Elementary School in the wrong country.

2008-10-21T04:27:00.003-06:00

Here in India, we live with Mathew and Jeeva and their fifteen year old son, Edwin and their twelve year old daughter, Priya. (Indians do ages differently though so actually they're 11 and 14 by our reckoning. I'm a little annoyed that I'm spending two months of my year of being twenty five actually being twenty six.) These kids don't go to school. They haven't been to school for a whole week ever since I've been here. They're not bad kids. They're actually very good kids. It's just that there hasn't been a week without a holiday since we got here. I can't always tell what the holidays are for or if they're actually official holidays but here are the ones I could tell:
1. Exams. I think this is a little bit like reading days or how you used to get half days when you went to high school and and had to take finals. Edwin didn't go to school for a week for this one.
2. Ramjan. This was the ending of the Muslim month of fasting, Ramadan. I don't know why everybody gets a day off. Mathew and Jeeva are Mormon so there was no need for them to celebrate. Two days off for this one.
3. Something that roughly translates as Cleaning Puja (or worship). I think this is kind of like spring cleaning. At least everybody took everything out of their closets and repainted stuff and hung flowers everywhere (including on the windshields of their cars. Just what India's driving situation needs- obstructed visibility.) My mom always made us use part of summer break or Christmas break to do this. Again, Mathew and Jeeva are not Hindu. Three days off for this one.
4. It rained. Seriously. Despite the fact that this is a tropical country and thus it rains fairly often, the government of India (where in India? what government? Yeah I have no idea.) declared a federal holiday because it was raining this morning. One day and counting for this one.
All of this leads me to the conclusion that I went to Elementary School in the wrong country. I guess we did get a half hour off to look at the snow both times it snowed when I was growing up, but that's nothing on a whole day off for rain. Plus, America does not have enough religious holidays off. We should be getting Yom Kippur and whatever day it is that Kwanzaa people celebrate. Hey, why stop there? The country should get Pioneer day off and the Shakers probably have holy days, right? And there's always Sneak Zuccini onto your Neigbor's Back Porch Day. That's an official national holiday. I want school off. And we should get Christopher Columbus day back. I know he's the bad guy of history now and everything but Muslims and Hindus have killed more of each other than Chris ever managed with the Native Americans. They still manage to celebrate each other's holidays. I want Christopher Columbus Day and the next day we can dedicate to a Chief that was in American when Columbus landed. That would be fair right?

New Flavors of White

2008-10-18T06:23:00.004-06:00

I can't eat Indian food anymore. Unfortunately, Indian is the only kind available in India. Shocker, I know. This limits me to the collection of Saltine crackers, tortillas, and apple sauce my mom sent me. Luckily, she sent me more than enough to feed an army with the stomach flu for at least a week so I'm in no danger of running out but Saltine crackers, tortillas, and apple sauce don't have that much flavor. They get boring fast. Sometimes I find myself dividing my life into the time when I used to eat and the time when I didn't. Like I'll say, "Remember when we went to that movie? Yeah, that was when I used to eat." Or, "No I couldn't have gone to that restaraunt. We didn't find it until after I stopped eating." I also lay awake at night and dream of the food that I could eat if I... could eat. And if I were in America. When I finally fell asleep at four in the morning the other night, I felt a little pathetic that I'd seriously spent about six hours dreaming of food I would like to eat.
Today, I ate toast. For all of you who think that toast is another flavorless food, let me disabuse you of that notion. This toast (called Bread Toast, officially. There really was an option called Toast and and option called Bread Toast. I have no idea with the difference was.) was delicious. I even got to put a little bit of butter and jam on it. Three different flavors in one food item. It was almost more excitement than my poor flavor-deprived tongue could handle. The best thing about the toast though? It was not Saltine crackers, tortillas or apple sauce.

There was also another white girl in the restaraunt (Suddenly, I feel like I have no idea how to spell that word. Is that right?) and we creepily stared at her everytime one of us went to the bathroom. We really wanted to go talk to her but were intimidated by our own weirdness. I'm not sure we're capable of normal social interaction with people who aren't a. Us, b. Indian, c. actually incapable of communicating with us but trying anyway, or d. some combination thereof. We saw her later when we were walking to a movie and stared at her then too. I wonder how long India weirdness lasts. The mission took about six months to decompress from. If it's proportional, I should be ok by Christmas, right?

It's Not NOTHING!

2008-10-15T07:33:00.000-06:00

So this week I've had diarrhea. I thought, "I'll go to the doctor. That's a good idea." So I went. It takes two hours to get to the hospital which is where the doctor works. By the time I got there I was really tired but I got there, I waited with the millions of Indian people, I got in to see the doctor. This is actually my second time seeing this doctor. He was trained in Jersey City. Last time, I came he pulled out one of those placemats that you can color with a map of the United States on it and pointed out where he lived, where his son lives, and asked us to point out where we lived. For some reason, Washington was red. Anyway, this time he wanted to do a colonoscopy. I'm all for cultural experiences but having a colonoscopy in India is one I absolutely refuse to have. I think I'd rather be gored by a sacred cow. I talked him down from that into giving me medication but he wanted to make sure I wasn't jaundiced (Can adults even get jaundiced? I kept imagining myself in an adult size version of those blue light things babies get put in when they're jaundiced.) so I got the blood test but had to wait for five hours for the results. Having nothing else to do, I curled up on one of their beds and read Ender's Shadow which someone was kind enough to bring to India and leave in the student library here. I even fell asleep for awhile even though the sense of "people might be dying we better whisper" is definitely not present in Indian hospitals... or at least not this one. Maybe death isn't as big a deal if your expecting to come back pretty soon?
About two hours in to this wait, I started having diarrhea about every twenty minutes. Meaning that every twenty minutes, I had to get out of the bed, stumble past quite a few Indians all staring at me, because I'm white, and use the incredibly disgusting (This irks me, by the way. You're a hospital. Have a clean toilet.) hospital toilet. The hospital toilet is kind of a western one but you're still supposed to use water to clean afterwards. Which is NOT effective. Also, because I was too impatient to wait for the women's toilet once or twice, I learned that the men's toilet has a seat. The women's does not. What kind of sense does that make?!? Anyway, three hours later of fairly consistent bathroom usage, I had absolutely no energy and was feeling kind of terrible. I went in to find out that I wasn't jaundiced (Yeah... I guess?) and the doctor decided to give me an IV so that I could have enough energy to get home and so I wouldn't be as dehydrated.
So someone wheeled me down to the emergency area, where I was installed in a bed with an IV. Unfortunately, the diarrhea did not realize that I was now stuck to a bed and didn't slow down too much. Also unfortunately, I was by myself and I think this is somewhat of an anomaly at Indian hospitals. At least everyone around me had fifteen people around their bedside (most of whom were staring at me. Way to be supportive, people.) and no nurse ever came to check on me. Which means that I'm left with the need to poo and no way to get unattached from the bed. I'll spare you the details. I'll just say there was a trash can involved and it was not my finest hour.
So after four more hours of consistent diarrhea, I looked down at my IV and realize that somehow I am bleeding into it, instead of it bleeding (?) into me. Which I'm fairly certain is not supposed to happen and is just a little bit terrifying. So like any self-assured, culturally aware traveller, I started screaming for help. Like literally, just yelling help over and over. This did not bring a doctor or nurse to my aid. Instead, it brought the helpful old lady from the next bed over... who as far as I know did not have medical training. This did not, however, stop her from trying to disconnect the IV from my hand. This involved her pressing on my hand while she tried to cap the tiny vile that was attached to my hand after she disconnected the longer tube. It also involved a lot of pain and my blood beginning to leak onto my hand instead of into the tube. If I had been lucid, these would have been my thoughts: "Seriously, old lady? Seriously?" As it was, these were my thoughts: "Stop! Stop! Stop!" accompanied by hysterical crying and maybe a little bit of hyperventilating.
Eventually, a nurse did come. They do wear cute little cloth hats on the back of their heads so there's a plus to this experience. I got to see those. She easily disconnected the IV and everything turned out fine but as I couldn't stop crying while she was doing this, she kept saying, "Nothing, nothing." I know she was trying to be comforting and that this was the entirety of her ability to communicate with me but I really wanted to yell at her, "NO IT IS NOT NOTHING! THIS IS SOMETHING!" I did not do that. I very politely (semi-politely?) paid my bill, found a rickshaw, and went home.

But it's not nothing, right? Please begin sympathetic outpourings now.

The Case of the Cursed Blue Nighty

2008-10-15T07:25:00.003-06:00

This is the cursed blue nighty.

A nighty is what Indian women wear to bed, to cook in, to do laundry in. It's kind of the Indian equivalent of sweats. I think they're supposed to be attractive because one of our "Don't Spit on the Buddha" class teachers told us that when she bought hers the ladies at the store kept telling her how excited her husband would be that she had this amazing nighty now. I guess the cursed blue nighty does unzip a little bit at the top revealing two more inches of my chest so that's something. You also have to wear them with an inskirt. It's just a cheap cotton skirt with a drawstring tie at the waist. Walking around in public without your inskirt is like forgetting to put a shirt on. So that's even more cover. They also come in crazy garish colors. I know it's a shock. Crazy garish colors in India? You must be lying, Kayela. I can hear you thinking that. But they do. They're CRAZY. They beat the Sarees in color combinations and types by a lot.
Most nighties aren't cursed. In fact, they're kind of great. Super comfortable even with the inskirt and I'm always a fan of a garment that will allow you to get pregnant, have the kid, and shrink again without needing a new one. I even like the colors. They're ugly. I like ugly.

So why is the blue one cursed you might ask?

Here is a list of the bodily fluids that have been on the cursed blue nighty that generally are not on your clothing.
1. Blood
2. Pooh
3. Pee
4. Mucus
5. Stomach Bile with partially digested food
6. Stomach Bile without partially digested food
7. Saliva
8. Sweat
I apologize that that is disgusting but none of these bodily fluids have landed on any of my other clothing. I have an orange nighty that has remained bodily fluid free the entire time I've been here. I also feel like I've covered the entire gamut of fluids. Short of removing my spleen and squeezing it on the nighty, I can't even think of a way to get anything else on it.
The thing is I bought the blue nighty (which I don't even like that much) to do laundry. My orange one kept getting really really wet, mainly because I don't know what I'm doing but partly because water flies off clothing and gets on me when I beat it on a rock. I bought the blue nighty so it could get wet and I could have my clean comfortable orange one to sleep in. However, because I didn't have one to wear and you have to wear something to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I wore the blue nighty. Every time I have done this some sort of bodily fluid gets on it. EVERY TIME. I get sick to my stomach, I cut my finger, I sneeze a lot. If I even think about wearing it, one of these or a variety of other things will happen.

I'm thinking of burning it on a trash pile at midnight. With a drum. And at least one chicken eating garbage nearby.

Me in a Saree

2008-10-06T00:59:00.002-06:00

By popular request... or maybe just Sara's request. But it is kind of fun, right?

I just found this.

2008-10-02T05:36:00.003-06:00

If you click on it you can read it.

What do you get if you combine spicey popcorn, blurred genre lines and air conditioning?

2008-10-02T05:14:00.005-06:00

Tamil movies do not conform to genre distinctions as I have previously understood them. It may begin as a story about a wedding that isn't going to happen, but suddenly a blind guy is beating up a group of men who hit a child with a motorcycle. Then there are multiple love stories, usually including one that would actually get the man thrown in jail for stalking in the US, followed by a "date" that turns into a political commentary on Pakistan and police brutality in a Hindu state and ending with another wedding. This is all interspersed with major dance numbers with mulitple unexplained costume and scene changes and at least one wet Saree. I didn't even make this up. This really is the plot of one of the movies I've seen since I've been here, as far as I could tell. It is all in Tamil.
The thing is the acting is so suggestive (read: melodramatic) and the music clues are so clear that you really don't need subtitles for the most part. It would be good for clarifying family relationships but plotwise I'm generally good. Actually, having watched a little bit of a couple Tamil movies with subtitles back in the states, I think they make a lot more sense without the English. I pretty much don't understand the motivations and actions behind what's going on even when I understand the words so it's better to be able to focus on the images.
However, the best thing about going to a Tamil movie is not actually the movie. It's the audience. Or the air conditioning. We'll go with the audience for this blog post because while I could go on for quite awhile about the joys of air conditioning those of you with ready access to it would probably be pretty bored. So the audience. They're very vocal. When I moved to Provo, I thought that audience was pretty vocal. I still think this but they've got nothing on Indians. When someone says something they like, they clap and whistle. When something they don't like happens, they yell. When the power goes out and the film stops for a minute, they really yell. Also, the best seats are in the back row. You pay about twenty rupees extra to be as far from the screen as possible. They sell popcorn and soda in the lobby during the intermission (Tamil movies are three and a half hours long on average.) but they also sell veg puffs and samosas. Plus the popcorn is spicey. And good. Just spicey popcorn? Really?

The Post Formerly Known As Fred

2008-10-02T04:57:00.004-06:00

I've had some struggles getting this blog together lately. I have two sort of entertaining posts but they involve pictures and videos and I'm not smart enough to make them work. Apparently you can only put five pictures up at a time?
Anyway, I've been feeling a little overwhelmed by India lately. Like maybe I need a day off of India. We had visiting professors from BYU this past weekend and it was stressful. We spent a lot of time taking them around to see things in India. It's the first time I've felt like a tourist while in India. We also ate in better resturaunts (Sp? For some reason I just forgot how to write that word.) and spent time in fancier places. This made me a little homesick. Eating off of a banana leaf is so far removed from any previous experience in my life that I don't remember to miss forks. Sleeping on the floor is so different from my sleeping arrangements at home... wait, I guess it really isn't, is it? Oh well. I think it was also the fact that there were other white people around. I think I'm mostly over the fact that I don't look like anyone around me. The fact that I don't see myself very often actually really helps with that. Having people other than my group around reintroduced that fact to my consciousness somehow. Anyway, the whole thing made it just close enough to home to remind me that it's not.
In other news, I wore my Saree on Sunday for the first time. I really had fun with it and I felt very fancy. When I was walking around the village in the afternoon, a group of women sitting on their front stoop started yelling, "Saree, Saree, Neat, Neat!" at me. One of them pulled me into the hut behind her and proceeded to undress and then redress me. On the way in, I accidentally hit my head on the lintel- Indian people are short!- pretty hard, so I wasn't paying that good of attention but she was good at tying it. She can fold pleats one handed. I don't know if I can really convey how impressive this is. Maybe it's a little like being able to crack an egg one handed. Maybe?
Also, this computer has the option to change the language when I type so here's the phrase "The Cow is White" (The only phrase I learned in my high school German classes) in multiple Indian languages. See if you can tell the difference.
Tamil: த கௌ இஸ் வைட். (Spoken mostly in Tamil Nadu, where I am)
Telegu: ది కౌ ఇస్ వైట్. (Spoken mostly in Andra Pradesh, which is the next state over)
Hindi: थे काऊ इस व्हाइट। (Spoken mostly in the north)
Kannada: ದಿ ಕೌ ಇಸ್ ವೈಟ್. (Spoken mostly I have no idea where. It's cool looking though, right?)

How to eat a Thali: Flipbook Edition

2008-09-25T04:20:00.002-06:00

Directions: Print out this blog post. Cut out e

ach picture. Staple on the left edge. Flip and Enjoy. Captions can be cut out and affixed to the back of the pictures.

First: go here.

Get your banana leaf and cup of water. Wash the banana leaf by pouring water on it and then flicking the water off by beating the leaf against the edge of the table.

Get a pile of rice and a papadam (sp?). Divide the rice so the guy doesn't put the sambar in the middle of the pile.

Get the Sambar. Eat the crunchy thing. (Don't ask me what Sambar is. I don't know. It has vegetables and tamarinds and it's spicy. That's all I've got.)

Mush the Sambar into the rice with your right hand- never your left hand. That's just gross.

To be continued....

(Mainly because I can't figure out how to get blogger to let me post more than five pictures at a time.)

த ரேடுர்ன் ஒப் ௪ இயர் ஓல்ட் கஎல

2008-09-23T06:33:00.002-06:00

This is the Pu I wrote about it another post.

The Return of 4 Year Old Kayela

Today in church I'm pretty sure the lady behind me grabbed my ponytail. I think this has happened several times on the bus as well. I'm never really sure because the bus moves and maybe it just got stuck on something or hits a pole or something. It makes sense. I have a very unique hair color for India. It's just a little disconcerting. It reminds me of stories I heard about myself when I was a little girl. Old women would come up to me and say, "Oh, I love your hair color. I've always wanted your hair." Perhaps thinking that they meant literally my hair, I would say, "Well, you can't have it." I kind of feel this way again. Back off my hair, Indian women.

மி வெரி பிரஸ்ட் இந்தியன் இல்ல்நேச்ஸ்

2008-09-23T06:30:00.001-06:00

My Very First Indian Illness

So when I was a missionary I heard a story about an Elder who participated in 4 Thanksgiving dinners and partook bounteously at each table. That night he woke up puking and couldn't stop. He went to the hospital and as it turns out he had eaten so much that he clogged his system. Nothing could come out but there wasn't any more room for food in the intestines and it had to go somewhere. I guess they pumped his stomach or something and it turned out fine.

I didn't really understand that story until this week.

On Tuesday night, I woke up with pain in my lower abdomen. I spent the rest of the night on the bathroom floor alternating between cramping and vomiting. I'll try to post a picture of the bathroom floor so you can have an idea of how gross this really was. I also have bruises on my bum from laying on the toilet which is a strange place to have a bruise. I think it was the sickest I've ever been. Ever in my life. I really wasn't sure how I was going to make it back to the room. Finally around five in the morning, I dragged myself back to the room and Liann (field facilitator) went to get Matthew (our host dad) to give me a blessing. Things got a lot better after that but I've been very weak and tired this week and I'm not in a big hurry to eat bread and peanut butter again. Trying to find bland food in India is remarkably difficult.

I'm pretty sure this is all connected to the Irritable Bowel Syndrome/ Spastic Colon with which I was diagnosed this last year. Can you think of a more embarrassingly titled disease? I've been thinking of naming my colon because I spend so much time thinking about it. I can't decide if I should go with an irritable old man name or a spastic teenager name though.

எ ஃஉஎஸ்திஒந் ஒப் ப்லோக் ஏதிஃஉஎத்தெ

2008-09-13T05:08:00.003-06:00

A Question of Blog etiquette.

I'm new to this blogging thing and while your comments make me feel pretty good about myself (kind of like looking at signatures in your yearbook), am I supposed to reply to them? Just curious.

பிபூரிக்ன் பிமிநிநிட்டி

2008-09-13T04:47:00.003-06:00

It's Foreign Femininity. I'm excited to see how the transliteration came out. Thanks for the corrections, by the way, Shankar.

I don't know how to be a girl in India. I'm not brilliant at being a girl in the US but I'm really out of my depth here. All the social cues that mean femininity at home are reversed. Women here wear brilliant colors with gold woven in as often as not. They never leave home without their jewelry- which means at least one gold necklace, gold bangles, earrings, and anklets. If you're married, it also means a yellow rope with a piece of gold on it and toe rings. And when I say they don't leave home without it I'm not kidding. Jeeva wears all of that with her nighty (An ankle length shapeless dress- I'll post pictures of clothes soon.) to the laundry rock. They also wear strings of flowers called Pu (Hehehe, sounds like pooh, hehehe) or roses in their hair which is usually braided and always long. Everything is flowy and soft and long. However, they also sit crossed legged, or squat or just sort of flop on the ground with no grace at all. They spit and chew this red leaf thing which as far as I can tell just turns your spit red. They can also do that thing where you blow snot out of your nose right onto the ground. Listening to an Indian woman get ready is gross. (On an unrelated note, did any of you know that chickens can also make some incredibly disgusting noises? I didn't, but they can.)
All of this is confusing to me. I'm not the most graceful person in the world but I feel a little more graceful in all these flowy clothes. What does it mean to look like a woman here? The kids are always asking me why I don't have earrings. (I think getting my ears pierced in India would be like asking for lock jaw so no thanks on that one.) Beyond that, what does it mean to behave like one? I can't do anything Indian women can do. We were trying to help carry water the other day and were apparently failing because all the little girls were laughing at us. We did get pretty wet but there was water in those buckets! How do you not get wet? (Megan responded to this with "Yeah well, I can type 90 wpm. What can you do? I thought it was funny.)
There are also strict but malleable rules (is that possible? strict and malleable?) about how the two genders are supposed to interact. I'm not allowed to look straight at an Indian man. I can make eye contact but only if I look away quickly. I'm not supposed to talk to men my own age alone but in a group it's ok... kind of. Sometimes none of this applies- I think it matters more in the village than the city for instance. However, this is complicated by the fact that I'm white. Men are constantly honking and yelling from moving vehicles (My favorite so far? "Hey, White Girl!" Good for you! You noticed my skin is different from everyone else's. Congrats!)
The upshot of all this is that I spend a lot of time thinking about my gender. I'm not sure I even noticed it in the US but here I have to make a constant effort to make sure I'm behaving well. I don't want to get on the wrong end of the bus (front for women, back for men), or in the wrong train car(there's a ladies only car). I have no idea what constitutes modest dress so I don't always notice if I forget my scarf (I think it would be like wandering around in only a tank top at BYU) or if it slips a little. I wonder if I'll ever be able to think about being a girl without feeling a little stressed out again. How much do you think about your gender?

Pictures of India

2008-09-12T03:21:00.002-06:00

As Kortni has so astutely pointed out already, these are not my pictures. I stole them from Megan because my camera was full. I thought I'd put them here in case someone who doesn't facbook stalk me regularly wants to see some pictures.

This was one of our nights in Chennai. We went to visit this Christian Indian family that Liann (our field facilitator, she has short curly hair. Megan has brown hair and Alyssa has blond hair) met on a train. He invited us to dinner and to see the orphanage he and his wife run. It was a good night. They sang Tamil praise songs. We sang "I am a Child of God" before we thought about the "with parents kind and dear" part. Sorry, orphans. It's the first one we thought of.

This is me, Megan, and Alyssa at the Indian Ocean. I realize it's really the Bay of Bengal but I'm counting it as the Indian Ocean. I think if I went to the Gulf of Mexico I would still say I saw the Atlantic Ocean so I can generalize that sentiment. Notice Megan and Alyssa's Salwar Kamis. Generally, they don't match. That was a coincidence... or maybe an effort to confuse the poor Indians who already think we look the same. Oh and we were not the only ones taking this picture. Several random people on the beach also got it. Apparently, white people are something of a novelty here.

This is the crowd at the beach. Notice how many people. Now notice how many are swimming. Apparently, the percentage of Indians who swim is very small. Which I do not understand. It's hot here and there's water. Why wouldn't you get in it? I guess you don't though. Also, boys swim in their underwear and girls swim fully clothed. In case you were wondering.

இன்றோ டு இந்தியா

2008-09-08T04:11:00.002-06:00

The title is Intro to India. Kust so you know.

This is an email I wrote to my friend, Sara. She wrote great questions and I came up with great answers so rather than rewrite the same information, here it is.

How is India?
Colorful and full of new smells. Also, I don't think I really understood the signficance of having a billion people in your country. That's a lot of people and a lot of them live in incredibly congested cities. I flew into Chennai and met my group and was a little freaked out by the people. You all know how much I love cities. We took an 8 hour train ride to ge to Coimbatore and then a forty minute bus ride and then a kilometer walke to Chavadi where we live with a family. It's very much the middle of nowhere and I'm kind of loving it. They have a kerosene (SP? Does anyone know how to spell that word?) lamp! I've always wanted one.

Are people there fascinated by your hair?
I haven't noticed that yet which actually kind of bothers me. They do stare at us though. Sometimes kids point us out to their parents. Mommy, what's wrong with that person? Look! When we went to the beach (which was the Indian Ocean. Cool, right?) they took some pictures of us. That was a little bizarre. Also, when we finally got to the village, the kids were just getting out of school and they all scampered around asking us our names and our father's names and our mother's names and our sister's names and our brother's names... Either they're really into family history or those are the only English words they know. I pretended to only have one sister and one brother. I'm pretty sure the boys were telling us their names were dirty Tamil words, (Like, my name is Mr. Smelly Butt Face) hoping we'll repeat them.
Amendment: Yesterday, a guy at the store we buy 7-Up from took a picture of me. Since we go there every day, I think it might have been my hair.

Do you sleep next to sheep?
I haven't actually even seen a sheep.I've seen goats and some animal I think is a dog and a bunch of sacred cows (They have a weird hump and painted curvy horns. Maybe the hump is where they keep their sacredness? Also, they eat garbage.) I do sleep on a mat on the floor though. That's kind of like sleeping next to sheep, right? And by mat on the floor, I mean a really big placemat, no cushioning whatsoever. Which is fine actually. I didn't even have sheets yesterday. There are four girls in our group and we're all in this room. Next to us is a kitchen, then the Daniel's room (Matthew, Jeeva, Priyaa, and Edwin all sleep in the same room. I guess they would do this even if we weren't there. We all kind of wonder how they have kids.), then a small room where married people stay when they come on the field study. The shower and toilet are in another building across the courtyard and there's a tree where you spit your toothpaste. I have a thing about people
watching me brush my teeth so that one makes me a little uncomfortable. Ridiculous, I know, but out of sleeping on a mat, squatting to poo, and showering with a bucket, using my toothbrush in public is the thing that really makes me uncomfortable.

What are you studying?
Currently, I am studying the best way to use a squat toilet without peeing on myself and how to manage to sterilize enough water for all of us to use. I've also had a course on doing my laundry in a bucket (I think I like it more actually.) and another one on how to eat very spicy food off of a banana leaf with my hands. I'm trying to figure out how to negotiate the crazy number of bills with unfamiliar colors I have with me and how to nod my head by waggling it from side to side instead of up and down. No is said with your hand. You shake it, kind of like saying Finished in sign language but probably that doesn't help. Maybe I'll post a video someday. I'm also learning where to put my flashlight so it's easy to find when the power goes out many times a day. I'll start my real research which is something fairly vague about wrestling I just made up right before I left, when I don't have to work so hard at living.

Are you having oodles and oodles of FUN?
I am so far. I didn't like Chennai much. Coimbatore is not my favorite either but the village is great. It's in the jungle and there are beautiful mountains and everyone seems really nice so far. I feel good.

Tell me everything.
I think I've covered everything except Saree/ Salwar Kami/ Chadathuri shopping. Sarees are the long wrapped dresses that you think of when you think of Indian women. Salwars/Chadathuris (Salwars in the north, Chadathuris in the south) are like a really long t-shirt that you wear over pajama pants/MC Hammer bubble pants. They also include a scarf that you wear sort of draped across your front. We'll wear mostly Salwars because we're young single women. Sarees are mostly for married women and I guess people will constantly readjust them if you're white and wear them. As this would involve women we don't know stuffing fabric into awkward places, most of us avoid them. Shopping for them is intense. There are racks upon racks upon racks of them and the colors are ridiculous. Remember what I said about the number of people? I haven't seen one repeat Salwar or Saree. Since all the colors are a little garish to American eyes it's a little hard to figure out which ones to choose. There's also the choice between ready made or having them tailored. If you tailor them, you just buy a little packet of fabric. They have them all hanging on racks folded over. They also use a ridiculous amount of starch in their fabrics. Somehow they make cotton stand completely straight. It's very bizarre. We'll have to wash them out for a while before they resemble fabric. I have one dark blue one, one green one that has kind of a bluish sheen to it, a purply one with red flowers and and orangy tan one. I also did buy two sarees. I couldn't resist because they were pretty. One is really BRIGHT blue with orange flowers. It's one I can wear to church and I probably will. Even though it would be completely appropriate to wear Salwars, I would feel weird wearing pants and I kind of need something to make Sundays feel fancy. The other one I got is too fancy for anything but a wedding. They said we usually get to go to one though so maybe I'll get to wear it.
I'll post some pictures pretty soon. I just found out there's a place where I can hook my computer to the internet and that will make uploading pictures much easeir.

ஹவே எ மகிகால் டே!

2008-09-01T22:53:00.002-06:00

Tamil Title again. It's Have a Magical Day!

I realized this last week that I really like the It's a Small World ride at Disneyland. I know the words to the song- both verses, I don't just mean the chorus. I feel like this might be a defining feature of my personality.

I realized this because Karli and I went to Hong Kong Disneyland last week. I had read about this international dance competition that Disney Channel hosts- My School Rocks! Kids from schools all over Asia can get in groups, choreograph a dance number to a High School Musical remix song and compete for the title. The Asia Finals were in Hong Kong Disneyland which is pretty much why we went to Hong Kong. (Incidentally, we didn't like Hong Kong much. Disneyland was fun though) Just in case you didn't know, I wrote my master's thesis on Disney Channel which is why I was interested. I'm not one of those creepy old people who stalk child stars just because they like them. I kind of am but not to the extent of following them to foreign countries. So we sat on the incredibly hot ground in front of the mini Sleeping Beauty's Castle (Everything about Hong Kong Disneyland is mini. Also, the translated elephant as pachyderm so the Dumbo ride is advertised this way: "Ride a Pachyderm!" You totally want to, right?) and watched five teams compete. These kids were very good dancers and it was a lot of fun to watch. They also had creative costuming and some ingenious ways of incorporating the movie into their dance. It was a fun contest to watch. The Phillipinos won and rightly so. They were the best. The other cool thing about this was that they filmed it to be broadcast on Disney Channel and Kelsey and Taylor McKessie (Ok the actors who play them and I do know their names but you might not) from High School Musical were there hosting. We were in the background of some of their hosting shots. Kind of cool in a "Wow, I'm a dork for thinking this is cool kind of way." So maybe I'll be on Disney Channel. I feel like that would be kind of perfect since what I'm currently thinking about is the ways Disney Channel incorporates the watcher into its programming. I'm incorporated!

My favorite moment? When a cell phone went off during the contest. Guess what the ring tone was? That's right. We're All in this Together!

த வோர்ல்ட்விடே சர்ச்

2008-09-01T22:40:00.005-06:00

I don't know why my title turned to Tamil when I typed it. Maybe it will only work that way on my computer. It says The Worldwide Church for those of you who don't have Tamil scripts downloaded to your computers.

I've been to church in a different country each of the last three weeks- America, Thailand, and Hong Kong. This week I'll go in India making it a solid month of International church. Here's what I've learned:
1. I like being in a ward. Being a constant visitor makes me nervous.
2. The world wide church thing is not a joke. We went to an English ward in Thailand (like the Spanish wards they have in the US, I guess) and it was truly international. There were a few Americans, some Brits and Australians (I realize those aren't the same nationality but they feel like the same to me so I'm grouping them.), a bunch of Phillipinos, at least one guy from Nepal and one girl from South Korea, and who knows what else. Each talk or lesson was given by someone with a completely different accent and life experience. When someone made a comment in Relief Society, that person had to explain their whole life history and significant portions of their cultural background in order to be understood. Relief Society as cultural classroom? Who would have thought?
3. The church structure is much more versatile than I would have thought. In Hong Kong, we went to (We is Karli and I, by the way. Just realized I might not have said that.) a ward completely populated by Phillipino cleaning women. Which means no men or boys. Seriously, I think there were maybe eight of them- two Phillipinos, two teenagers, and two really old white guys. It worked perfectly well. I wonder if they get home taught. Anyway, the second half of church was a seminar on the rights of immigrant laborers in Hong Kong. I didn't stay but I was interested in how church meetings can be reorganized to really serve their wards. I hope the women in that ward get better treatment out of it.
I'll be excited to get to the village we're staying in for the next few months. It'll be nice to be part of a community again.

Teeny Tiny Thoughts on Teeny Tiny Tokyo

2008-08-31T21:43:00.004-06:00

Tokyo reminds me of that story about the teeny tiny woman with the teeny tiny house and she eventually finds a teeny tiny bone and the whole thing ends up with something that is not teeny tiny trying to find the bone. I think it's either a Tommy DePaola (Children's book writer, he writes about Strega Nona and pasta a lot) book or one of those ghost stories you tell at your first sleep over and even though it's not remotely scary, you still jump when the not teeny tiny thing comes because it's your first sleep over. Tokyo reminds me of that story because everything in it is teeny tiny. There are teeny tiny houses, with teeny tiny garages where teeny tiny cars are parked. There are even teeny tiny vending machines in the strangest places. Karli and I got stranded in Tokyo for a night when our flight to Bangkok was cancelled. The airlines gave us a hotel room, fed us something I think was supposed to be Chicken Cacciatore, and gave us a free phone call so I felt Ok about being stranded. Plus Tokyo has this: (It's a cool picture that I can't get to load so I'll put in later)
All of this makes me kind of love Tokyo.