The Imperialism Song and Dance

Our field trip to Laporiya today was cancelled due to inclement weather aka a freak thunderstorm that is never supposed to happen this time of year. After watching a classically ridiculous 3 hour Bollywood movie at the school, a group of us decide to do some monsoon sight-seeing. So we make the 20 minute auto rickshaw ride to the City Palace just in time for some sunshine. I won’t even try to describe palace, it was massive and unspeakably beautiful. I did however make a complete fool out of myself in one of the buildings. It housed most of the traditional wears of past kings and such, and the ceiling was this gorgeous carved white and pale blue marble. So as any tourist/student would do, I whip out my camera and take a picture. I forgot about the large sign at the entrance that said no photography. This traditionally dressed security guard comes running in my direction, holding his red turban with it’s 3 foot train, and shouting at me in Hindi. I, of course, am transfixed on getting a good angle for this ceiling and hear nothing. India is freaking loud-- I’ve learned to not be phased by shouting. By the time he reaches me and I’ve realized why he’s shouting, my flash has already gone off, aging the ancient clothing by at least a decade. The entire room is full of Indian students who have heard the shouting and are now looking at me with disgust for just tampering with their history. What an imperialist I’ve become.
After walking through this palace, we head towards the next one, which is called Hawa Mahal. It’s this great monument that was built so that the royal women could watch processions in the street without showing their faces to the public. Google it. So amazing. Anyway, as we’re walking there the usual street creeper comes up to our small pack of white girls and starts saying “hello, you’re so pretty, can I have two minutes?” As always, we ignore him and keep walking. Usually he’ll follow us, repeating the same three lines, for 2 minutes before he’s bored. This guy was rather persistent and started to ask my friend if she wasn’t talking to him because he was Indian, or because he wasn’t white, or because he was black. After ten ish minutes when we still ignored him, he says “Fucking bitches!” and leaves. We were just insulted in our language by a Hindi-native because we wouldn’t . Again, what imperialists.
Lastly, we stop in a notebook shop and browse through its stacks. Jaipur is famous for its hand-made paper, and I am a notebook fiend. I brought 11 notebooks here, including two mini ones for pockets for those times when I can’t carry one. The shopkeeper is incredibly nice and a great opposition to the ass we just escaped. He tells me all about the paper and such without doing the usual Indian song and dance of pushing you to buy everything in their store right     NOW for an outrageous price. I settle on the ones I like and he sells them to me for pretty cheap. I’m feeling great cuz I asked him the price in Hindi, haggled in Hindi, and he gave it to me. Then in Hindi he asks where I’m from, to which I respond in Hindi that I’m American. He immediately asks, in English, if I’m interested in the Kama Sutra books. I cannot escape the loose morals stereotype.

Chapati times with my host mom.

Hanky Panky

So I went to my second wedding over the weekend, and this time my entire 22 person group was invited. So of course our hoard of loud Americans comes dressed in our brand new sarees and eat everything in sight. Now, I didn’t actually buy a saree, but I told my host mom that most everyone else bought one to wear to the wedding. She gets all flustered and tells me that I have to wear a saree if my group is dressing up. The flashy thing I got last time just won’t do with so many fancy Americans. Hmm. Then she asks me what kind of earrings I have, to which I respond none. I didn’t bring any jewelry here. It’s rustic and quaint right? My mom doesn’t try to hide her shock and says “Nuhhhthing? You have no earrings?” And I tell her again that I brought not a single piece of jewelry with me. I’ve committed such a sin against females. It’s 7 and my ride is coming at 8:30 for the wedding, but she throws on her shawl and announces that we have to go buy earrings. On the way to the first store, I remark that people respect me much more when I’m walking with her. She very seriously replies, “They know that if they try any hanky panky with you, I’ll insult them!” Thank goodness.
We go to two stores before finding a pair that she finds fancy and, frankly, gaudy enough to match the saree she wants me to wear. Oh and conveniently it’s a two for one “scheme,” so I buy two pairs of large gold earrings with crazy bright gem stones. The pair weighs about the same as my cell phone. I spent 890 rupees to turn my ears purple by the end of the night.
So I borrow one of her sarees, which is chiffon and expensive, so I‘m super worried about ruining it or getting it dirty. The more my mom tucks and folds me in saree the more I realize I have to pee. By the time she finishes, I’m  cross-your-legs desperate to piss and I sheepishly ask her how to use the bathroom in a saree. Then, for the second time while in India, someone has to show me how to go to the bathroom. The first time was in orientation from the Indian version of Borat in a youtube video about Indian toilets, aka a ceramic hole in the ground with a water hose to “wash.” Peeing in a saree is the most delicate and careful thing I’ve done since I’ve been here. Before I leave, my mom asks if I want a picture in my first saree. My dad gets super excited about it and says “Yes! Yes! A photo shoot for your parents. Come to our couch!!” They take me into their never sat in family room and have me sit on a couch below a painting of his grandfather. Then my mom re-does my hair so that everyone can see my new earrings.  They both command me during the pictures as the dad gives me a play by play of the photos he’s taking. “Now for a close-up. Now don’t smile; be an Indian. Now smile; be American. Now stand and show the saree. Turn this way to catch the light.” I could hear their son stifling his laugh in the next room.

Adopt These Phrases

I just wanted to share a list of great things that my mom says in everyday life:

"We live in such a good area. There are many malls close by. You should go and model around in them."

"Are your shoes biting you?"

"Do you know about Gandhi?"

"This is Dogha Singh. He is our dog. Don't pet him though. He runs through the yard and spoils my hedges. Then I must beat him with a stick. He will spoil them again in 3-4 months, and then I must beat him again."

"You shouldn't go for runs around here. Men will misbehave at you." -My homestay Dad

We went to the nearest bhasti, or slum, that day. It's the area where all the puppeteers live. There is a certain kind of puppets for which Jaipur is famous, and these people make the puppets and put on the shows. We were able to get a group of men, women and kids to sit down with us and talk about changes and such that they want for their community. It was...ahhh FANTASTIC.

The best day so far

Kind of a crappy picture, but this is one of the streets of the Old City in Jaipur.