The Origin Curiosity Continued

Whether American, European or Israeli for that fact, the tourists I've encountered so far want to know my ethnicity. Most ask the ignorantly offensive way. I thought only Americans where this ignorant, but the curious white European tourists I've encountered so far are equally so. It's interesting because white American tourists don't get probed for their ethinicity. They don't get asked really where they're from even though they really are from somewhere else too.

I met a very nice Romanian woman over the weekend who thought I had such a strong American accent because I studied there for a long time. I told her that I was born in the U.S. and it obviously didn't get through to her because she later asked me about the Philippines as if I lived there. I told her I don't know because I grew up in the States and lived there all my life. Then she finally got it.

Many of the tourists I've met so far have no context for non-white Americans. I am of course used to experiencing this in the U.S. as well, but it gets so damn exhausting. The images the American media ships abroad are responsible for much of the de-contexting of American people of color. I also wonder what other trails of lies and misinformation from foreign countries contribute to this.

Should I Stay or Should I Go Now

If I stay there will be trouble... - The Clash

Blessings do pop up in the midst of shady ground. The blessing is Yuki from Japan, another volunteer at Sadhana Forest. Thank Goddess, another person of color - and she's way cool. And we have a lot in common. And it's fun to talk with her.

Sadhana Forest is tricky. Volunteers get free accomodation for a minimum volunteer exchange time of two weeks. The cost for food is 80 rupees a day, which must be prepaid for the two weeks up front irregardless of whether volunteers choose to eat their meals at the forest or not. If a volunteer chooses to leave before two weeks, then the money is forfeited.

The scales are bobbing up and down trying to balance. What would make it worth it for me to stay? 1120 rupees can go far in India. Where can I find compassion and find value in the rest of my experience here? Do I want to find value in the rest of my experience here? It's always a good thing to have choices.

So far my trip to India has been sprinkled with blessings. Something positively unexpected keeps popping up for me. This time it's Yuki, a new friend. Today we bicycled to the Visitor Center in Auroville. Sadhana Forest is actually quite far from the center of Auroville, 10 kilometers. I had a wonderful time talking with her during our bike ride and it feels like having a kindred spirit in the forest. She values nature and existing in it from one's own indigenous ancestral knowledge. She worked in Hokkaido and got to know the Ainu, one of the indigenous peoples of Japan.

It's wonderful to know someone who has this perspective because as much as I love the premise that Auroville was founded upon and it's vision and mission (www.auroville.org) it also has it's issues. First of all, as an experiment in social unity on Indian land, there aren't many Indians who own land or who have founded residential communities within Auroville. In fact, a recent article in Auroville's paper talks about the gentrification of Auroville. So, it is an establishment in India that is populated by a majority of westerners and the workers are a majority Indian. I would think the opposite to be more appropriate. Yuki and I talked about this during our bikeride. Auroville is a brilliant creation and does many wonderful things. It also provides an example of the pitfuls of a brilliant vision and purpose that serves a global community, but established without a race, class, and gender analysis.

Auroville Sadhana Forest - DAME

In Japan, the word for big no no, strongly no, or DON'T is Dame (dah-meh) and it's accompanied by a gesture of arms crossed like an "X". Today I arrived in Auroville at my volunteer assignment at the Sadhana Forest. Sadhana Forest - DAME. I was ready to leave as soon as I arrived. I felt like I was back on campus at The Evergreen State College - a place populated by crunchy white hippies with dreads, except here they are mostly from Israel.

Here's what I first encountered upon meeting one of the forest founders:

Mistake # 1: I mentioned coming to India from Japan. She and another volunteer asked if I was visiting my family there.

Just because an Asian visits an Asian country, doesn't mean he or she is from there. All Asians DO NOT look alike, and we are not the same. Uninformed assumption that I was visiting family or Japanese.

Mistake #2: She then asked where I was from. I told her. "But where are you from?" she asked. "I was born in the States (you fucking dumbass)," I said (I was thinking). "What is your origin?" she asked. If I was born in the States, that's where I originated. There are such things as Asians born in America. I wonder what her reaction would be if I asked what her origin was after she told me she was from Israel. After all Israel was settled on Palestinian land by Jewish immigrants.

Mistake #3: "You have those Asian eyes," and then she demonstrates to her daughter on her daughter's own eye's stretching them slanty. Wow, I am completely thrown back to the white kids who used to tease me for looking chinky in grade school.

Someone once shared with me that the word "assume" breaks down to ass out of U and Me. Boy did she come out as the big ignorant ass on this one.

Pondicherry Day 2

Pondy reminds me a lot of Havana: former colonial town, bright colors, right on the water, some well maintained looking buildings, some not. Pondy was a former French colony, so all the street signs are in French. It's very laid back here compared to Chennai. Still a lot of honk honks from the street, but less hustle and bustle.

I met a tourist from Japan who lives in the U.S in an office supply shop. He wanted tape for envelopes he's sending abroad. Since I had just bought tape for the same purpose, I let him use mine. The shopkeepers didn't like that very much. He's been all over India and has extended his stay a few times. He says that Pondy is clean for India. It is quite cleaner compared to Chennai. I ran into the same guy again later in the day and invited him to join me for some ice cream. Since he's traveled throughout India for the past several months, I got to pick his brain. After a bit of chit chat I was off on a stroll along the beach. It's beautiful and when a strong breeze hits, it's perfect.

Pondicherry

Yesterday I made my way from Chennai to Pondicherry. Before leaving my accomodation in Chennai, I asked one of the men at the desk how to get to the main bus stand. He said that a bus was leaving directly for Pondy from the hotel. Since the price was 50 rupees less than the cost to take a cab to the bus stand, I said ok. Little did I know that I got tricked into a bus tour to Pondy. I believe this was a blessing in disguise because I met wonderful Indians on this bus tour. There were also two incredibly annoying American males and a girlfriend (not sure where she was from). I stayed away from them.

On the bus, I sat next to Paleshwar. He's a postal worker from Chattisgar and in Southern India for holiday. His two friends were also on the tour. They had rhyming names, but I don't remember them. Also on the bus were a few Indian families.

On the way to Pondy, we had a rest stop at a snack stand. A girl on the bus gave me a mint. I offered her a cookie from my snack stash, but she was shy and said no. After some prodding from her mom, she took my cookie. I also offered her some yummy Japanese candy, but she said no.

The first stop on the tour was Auroville. As we were walking around Auroville, the girl who gave me the mint asked me in English what my name was. After telling her my name she said, "Good name." I asked her, "Tumhara nam?" Your name? Ayusha. Her cousin also asked me a few questions. And before long, we were friends. When we got to a picture taking sight, Ayusha called me to be included in the family picture. "Come," she said. They didn't ask the annoying Americans. Only for a group shop at the end.

I noticed the grandmother sitting by herself during picture taking time, so I asked, "Dadiji thik hai?" Is grandmaji ok? After that, I was so golden with the families. On the way back to the bus they were asking me how long I was in India for, where I came from, what I was doing, what I did in the States. The grandma gave me a little hug and said I was sweet and that I reminded her of one of her granddaughters. They were very kind to me with my barely Hindi, my broken Hindi.

So by the end of the day, I had the contact information for two families, one living in Delhi and the other in Kanpur near Lucknow. And when it came time for me to leave and jump into a rickshaw to find a place to stay in Pondy, they crowded around to say their goodbyes, especially the kids. One of the fathers was sweet. He protectively asked the rickshaw driver how much and told him where to take me. Then he told me how much it would cost.

Finding a place to stay in Pondy was a little tricky. Guesthouse after guesthouse was full. We then pulled up to a guesthouse that I intentionally did not call beforehand because the price listed in my guidebooks was out of my budget. All out of options, I asked if they had any rooms available. I was in luck. When I asked how much, I was in even more luck. 100 rupees each night. That's six times less than what was listed in my guidebook. And here's the real blessing: it's right on the beach of the Bay of Bengal AND it's clean.

Chennai and My First Angel in India

Watching the Indians get off the plane in Chennai was such a contrast to what I was used to in Japan. As we were waiting to deboard, I saw people laughing and talking. I saw expressive people - so different from the reserved demeanor of the Japanese.

I feel amazingly prepared for the sensory onslaught and stimulation of India, mainly because it's a lot like the Philippines. I went through the culture shock when I went to the Philippines several years ago. In Chennai, pedestrians, bicycles, cars, buses, and rickshaws all share the road. Horns are constantly honking and people are approaching or yelling at me for one thing or another - for change or to be a rickshaw customer. Luckily Roslynn forewarned me of all this and I just walk forward looking ahead and when someone approaches me for something I don't want, I continue to look forward and bobble my head like Indians do. No one gives me a hard time at all.

My first outing in Chennai consisted of a long walk to the tourism office so I could get a city map and ask the best way to get to the Pondy Bazaar via public transport. Pondy Bazaar is located in Chennai and different from the city of Pondicherry. After getting the information, I made my way to the bus stop to catch the bus.

The bus was crowded when it pulled up to the stand. I noticed people boarding at the rear entrance, but many women were standing in the front, so I boarded in the front. Many, many,many stares. I wasn't sure when, to whom, or how much to pay, so after a while on the bus, I asked the driver, "Pondy Bazaar?" Next stop he said. He didn't stop right at the Pondy Bazaar but a nearby area and I'd have to walk. I asked how much I needed to pay and how I should pay. He didn't get the how part. Then a woman in a green sari told me, "You pay in the back," which was why people were boarding in the back when I got on. I gave her my 3 rupees to pass back. She asked me where I was going and when I told her, she said she was going there too and that she'd take me. When we got off the bus, it was too late for me to pay, so I got a free ride. The rupees were passed back to me before I got off. Oops. "It's ok," she said bobbling her head.

My first angel in India. I followed her to the Pondy Bazaar and told her I was looking for a bag/purse, contact lense solution, and textiles. She took me to different purse vendors. I felt bad because I wasn't finding what I wanted. She took me to an eye place where I bought contact lense solution and to a few more purse vendors. Since I wasn't finding what I wanted and didn't want to waste more of her time, I asked her where I could catch the bus home. She showed me. I thanked her. She put her hand on my arm, said "It's ok," and bobbled her head. After walking the entire length of the market and visiting a few more bag vendors, I found a bag that would do. I even bargained for it and a shirt that I bought too.

Goodbye. Sayoonara. Alvida.

There is a line in the Bollywood movie Kabhie Alvida Na Kehna where one of the main characters says, "Goodbye. Sayoonara. Alvida." And then the woman in love with him tells him not to say goodbye (alvida in Hindi) because it ruins the possibility of meeting again.

During my last week in Japan I enjoyed many goodbye dinners and a bonnenkai/birthday party with the Osa English conversation group. December is a busy bonnenkai month in Japan. Bonnenkai is a drinking party where the drinks offer kind forgetfulness of things from the past year. The bonnenkai/birthday party I went to didn't have alcohol. Instead there were two delicious pots of nabe. In this case, we ate away what we didn't want to remember of the past year.

As I took my last train ride to the Niimi station, I wanted to say thank you to the people who were familiar to me, but still strangers - the lady who runs the snack and newspaper stand in the train station, the young women who usually collect my train ticket when I get off the train, the little dog that wears a t-shirt that belongs to the hair salon. I may have been a familiar face to them for a few weeks, but they were a part of the rhythm of Niimi that I got to know. And of course, there are all the wonderful people I've met during my stay here: people from the English conversation groups and Roslynn's co-workers. And there is also the land to thank who has been so gracious in letting me stay in and admire its beauty.

A few Japanese people have asked me of my impressions of Japan. In the Niimi area, I'm struck by how much the people know the rhythm of the land like their own heartbeat. They are so attuned to the cycle of nature and it is reflected in their classical art and tradition. When I arrived in Osaka, the second largest city in Japan, I was shocked at how orderly everyone was in the subway. People formed single file lines as they awaited their trains and when the train arrived, they parted to the side to make room for the passengers getting off the train. Once everyone got off, people entered the train single file. I am also struck by the glimpses of contradiction I've seen and heard: the pressure to uphold Japanese tradition, to be perfectly Japanese all within the historical backdrop of a country that westernized very quickly; immigrant laborers imported from South America who are of Japanese descent and speak Brazilian Portugese and Spanish, but are not considered Japanese. Yet the Japanese government grants these laborers work visas because they look Japanese and have Japanese blood, but they are not integrated into Japanese society. They lie in the margins, not the mainstream.

One of the last things I'll mention that I love about Japan is that on the train, a male high school student whipped a pink wallet out of his pocket to give his friend train fare. Men and boys are pretty, not just the women. It's all very metrosexual.

To Japan I won't say goodbye, sayoonara, or alvida because I would hate to ruin the chance of meeting again. Instead I'll say namaste to my adventure ahead in India. Namaste is also the departure greeting as well anyway.

My Almost Birthday Party

Earlier last week, I met some of Roslynn's first year junior high students at the computer center. I was surprised that they talked to me for such a long time asking me if I liked volleyball and basketball (that's what they learn in school). After Roslynn and I were done talking with them, we went to the computers to check our email and they followed us reading our email even though they didn't understand. They were too precious, so I told Roslynn, "Maybe they could come over on Friday for my birthday," so she invited them. They confirmed with Roslynn later in the week because they were excited, but Roslynn had to take it back because it's against the rules for teachers to socialize with students outside of school and it was too complicated to ask for their parents' permission. They were disappointed. Me too. I didn't get a birthday party with them, but I did get birthday letters from each of them expressing their excitement for the party and their well wishes for me in India. Gambate they said. Go for it.

Thanksgiving Feasts

Not only was I lucky enough to enjoy one Thanksgiving feast, I was lucky enough to enjoy two. In Japan the holiday is celebrated as Thanksgiving Labor Day, but without the turkey. The first feast came at lunch time where Roslynn and I went to an acquaintance’s father’s house from an English conversation group. We feasted
on tempura, tempura, tempura, and tempura, salad, and an egg dish. Oishi. Delicious.

Then we were off to a nabe dinner. Nabe is a winter soup with grean leaf vegetables, shiitake mushrooms, tofu, meat, and seafood. It's prepared in a special nabe pot, on the dining table with a portable gas range. My description doesn't do it any justice, but the picture does. Oishi desu ne.