broad abroad

Three of my Guru’s senior students perform for Gurupoornima. (Performers: Ruquiya Deshmukh, Shamala Anadram, and Jaya Jog).

At the top of Seneghad Fort — the oral story of its conquest.

A view of the Indian countryside outside of Pune (via train). On our way to the Rajmachi trek.

Here are a few pictures from our 15km Trek up to Rajmachi, a village at the top of the mountains outside of Pune.

Trekking up to the waterfall.

Looking at the landscape upside down.

Cha-ha (Chillout) Tent in the middle of nowhere.

Warming our feet and drying off inside the foyer.

Saturday afternoon, in the comfort of my Raviraj Hotel room, I had what will likely be one of the most memorable experiences of my life.  Anju, our Resources Person at the ACM, hooked us ladies up with a practicing masseuse who had offered to give us all one-hour Indian massages for only 200 Rupees (less than $5).  So of course we took her up on it…

At 6h00pm, my roommate Taylor was the first to receive her massage, and since they were given in our hotel rooms, I spent the hour during Taylor’s session writing the first paragraph of an e-mail, and getting sidetracked from the second paragraph by movie clips I had taken of friends from Lawrence.  I was watching Nicki and Nick trek through fresh snow at Boubles Nature Preserve when Taylor came back from her massage to get me for mine.  I expected her to be in a post-bliss daze, but instead she just looked really greasy and strung out, and had the immediate urge to take a shower.

In a pre-bliss daze, I ignored Taylor’s state, headed into my hotel room, introduced myself, and learned through heavily-accented English that my also 20ish-year-old masseuse was called Supriya.  She seemed pretty cool, so I took off my shoes and noticed a blanket on the bed (green plaid, really stylish, actually…), and a bottle of oil on the nightstand.  Supriya then had me remove all of my rings, though one toe ring was kind of fused to my foot, and finally said something I may have anticipated, but was definitely not prepared for: “You take off clothes. Then lie down.”  I had put on my yoga pants specifically for this relaxing occasion, so confused, I asked her which clothes specifically she wanted me to remove.  Her response: “Shirt, Jeans, Bra.”

This happened. She watched. And it was fine, I mean… I’m a girl, she’s a girl; I’m 20ish, she’s 20ish; I’m around 5’1”, she’s around 5’3; you know, shit’s easy. Besides, I’ll be lying down on my stomach so she won’t be seeing me exposed for long.

So. Wrong.

“On back,” she says, and starts rubbing oil onto my left toes.  So here I am, naked except for one fabric-covered triangle at the intersection of my legs, on my back, under a FAN, in my hotel room with the balcony curtains opened, and another chick is rubbing my feet?  Really?  At this point, I am focusing so whole-heartedly on the light fixture above my head that I start to see my friend Zach’s face in it (who’s on the program), only he’s in very high contrast, and has large box-shaped breasts.

She makes her way all of the way up my left leg, finishes my left arm, and begins pouring oil onto my stomach and belly button.  At this point I’ve closed my eyes to block out Zach’s Warhol-inspired, illuminated chest, and I suddenly and not-even-that-pleasantly realize that Indian masseuses waste no time pussy-footing around.  Supriya’s got her hands on my right lady-lump and is basically kneading it like pizza dough.  For whatever reason, my immediate reaction is to distract myself with stunning visuals in my head.  So, I think of peacocks, which are too abstract, and I’m forced to switch to balloons, which are red.

After approximately three hours, she has finished my front side and gives me permission to flip onto my stomach.  ‘Thank Christ,’ I’m thinking, ‘because I don’t have breasts on my back, and my ass (at least) is under its so-called wear.’  Just as I’m thinking this, my butt starts to feel really cold and lonely, and I realize that she has ever-so-delicately pulled my blue-and-white-striped panties down so that only one stripe is visible.  Now they’re just blue panties.

Then I feel oil running down my butt-crack.

Trapeze artists, effing trapeze artists are my immediate mental-visual instinct, and they’re flying through the air, but really far away.  So, the obvious [read: inevitable] happens, and she’s massaging my derrier while Circ De’Soliel gives me a free show.  Finally, it seems every part of my body has been rubbed and slathered with oil when I hear, “Now you sit up, and you face this way.”  By ‘face this way’ she means ‘face out the window and watch the women in the large windows who are working out at the gym across the street.’  I ask her to close the blinds, and she rubs my entire head, hair, and scalp with oil until I’m basically convinced I’ve been deep fried and/or served at a KFC.  Finally.  FINALLY… Finally she’s finished, and I wrap myself in a towel.

She has given me her phone number, and I have been invited over for Mahashratian lunch or dinner any time I want.  Nothing will ever surprise Taylor or me again.

(Update: Stephanie whole-heartedly enjoyed her massage the following day, and Tara was also asked over for dinner by Supriya.)

Taylor gets her nose pierced in the middle of an Indian jewlery shop.

Brittany does, too!

Your average Pune Intersection.

Right now, I only have enough time to post a few pictures, and a video!

5h30am — View from our balcony at Raviraj.

Brittany, Taylor, and I on our first Rickshaw.

Pune.

Tyler gets a ’sixer’ in his first game of Cricket.

Rickshaw Ride!!  Traffic in India!!

Good morning!  It’s 9h22am, and my parents and I are headed to chicago in t-minus eight minutes, and counting… I’m done packing, and everything fit into two bags and a tote, and after I use up all of the toiletries, give away the gifts, and ditch my towels for the flight home, I should have about a full bag’s worth of empty space to bring things back in for all of you!

On a side-note, I got my blood typed yesterday.  After jumping through fifty different hoops and getting denied at just as many clinics, I decided to suck it up and ’save up to three lives’ by donating blood at the American Red Cross.  The guy asked me what I’d come in for, and I relayed to him my needle-phobia and the India trip, and in turn it was an extremely relaxing and easy process.  At the end of it all, one of the employees came up to me at the juice bar asking, “Are you Kristin?  Is this your first time?,” and handed me a black Red Cross t-shirt for my bravery.  Awesome.  Donating blood brings out the doctor’s-office-five-year-old-with-a-lolli-pop in me!

Three minutes.

Frequently Asked Questions regarding this trip, and my responses:

1.) Where are you going?

I’ll be traveling to Pune, India, which is located in the Western state of Maharashtra, roughly 150 kilometers (93.2 miles) from Mumbai. Here is the Wikipedia site.

2.) How long will you be there?

Five months — from July 11th through December 8th, 2007

3.) What are you studying?

A large portion of the program is independent study, but I wont know what resources I have until I get there. However, I know I’ll be working towards my Studio Art major, and am interested in the textile art of Batik. Jonathan Evans has some great examples of Batik here. I’ll also be taking courses in Marathi (the language in Pune), Foundations of India, and topics such as Indian Architecture and Indian Film.

4.) Are you living with a family?

Yes, but I wont know who they are until I get there.

5.) Can I write to you?

Absolutely! And I’ll write back! Here’s my address:

Kristin Boehm
ACM India Studies Program
c/o Kalachhaya
270 / D Patrakar Nagar Road
Shivajinagar
Pune 411 016
Maharashtra, INDIA

Mail may take up to two weeks to travel in and out of India

I took my first Typhoid pill today, and am starting the incredibly expensive Malaria vaccine next week. “Better safe than sorry,” I told the clerk, but I’m not sure I meant all $230 of it (after insurance). In return, she flashed me a Midwestern smile along the lines of what overly critical, or cunningly perceptive outsiders refer to as, “Minnesota Nice.”

Through the addictive power of Barnes and Noble, I also stocked up on gifts for my home-stay family. Some Indians I haven’t met yet are soon to be the proud owners of one 2008 Wild and Scenic Minnesota Calendar, a photographic look at Minneapolis/St. Paul, and a picturesque look at Minnesota’s natural landscapes, which to me invokes the American sentiments of endless abundance and Manifest Destiny.

This inevitable detachment from connections in Minnesota, Ohio, Wisconsin, and Unistar (a state of its own, mostly mental), has sparked a previously unheard of generosity in me. I feel compelled to randomly gift things to not only my host family, but to people here. However, this chord extends only to peripheral friends, not everyday ones. I have thoughts on why, but don’t feel like articulating them into words right now.

I also picked up a new sketchbook and a journal, as well as a couple of comfy bras.

Something great! Shubhang and his family will be in India (for the first time in 14 years) in November visiting their friends and relatives. Jagruti said they’d definitely be seeing me in Pune, because they have friends there. Also, Rose is studying Buddhism all term. In her words: “I’ll be sitting crozz legged wit mah eyes closed all semester in Bodh Gaya, in the Burmese Vihar…and where will YOU be, lovely?” Response: on the other side of the country, but maybe…

Things to do in the next couple of weeks that aren’t ‘Pack’ include: Read Love and Longing in Bombay, by Vikram Chandra, as well as India: From Midnight to the Millenium, by Shashi Tharoorskip (this still hasn’t arrived in the mail, which sketches me out), put together a photo album of my life here to bring there, GET MY BLOOD TYPED! rawr rawr rawrrrr!, send out a mass e-mail collecting addresses and spreading mine, see Water, UNPACK FROM COLLEGE, etc. etc. etc. not gonna think about it.

Yesterday afternoon, I met with the girls from last year’s Pune program over an excellent home-made Maharashtrian dinner. Danielle, Emily, Sam, and Sara shared unique insights on the program, which reinforced the experience as being extremely subjective, depending heavily on host families and social networking. They also taught Tara and I how to squat without toilets, wipe without toilet paper, and eat without silverware. The girls were all great, and talking with them about their experience reminded me that it would be happening to me in just over a month. I’m still struggling to realize that it’s real.

My innoculation appointment is scheduled for this Friday, two days after I come home from finals. This is seriously exacerbating my near-debilitating fear of needles… On the to-inject list are: my Measels, Tetanus, Diphtheria, and Polio Adult Boosters, Hepatitis A, Malaria Prophylactic (chloroquine-resistant strain), Typhoid Fever, Yellow Fever, and Japanese Encephalitis, as well as having my blood typed. Somehow, I’ve managed to slip through the cracks of the American system for the last 20 years without knowing what type of blood is flowing through my veins. Maybe this was by choice… If I’m brutually injured within the next five days, and you’re a universal donor, I’ll need your blood.