Where I Have Been

As part of Professor Burton's advice to recycle and refresh some of previous content, I'd like to do a few things.

First, if you do not already know, this is a project that is build off of my experience as a field study student in Ghana.  The blog that I did based on those experiences was a great learning opportunity, especially with how to integrate digital media into the kind of project I was interested in doing (exploring alternative viewpoints I called avatars to try and get a more authentic representation of my travel experience).

As part of that, I presented at the 2011 BYU Inquiry Conference.  I am waiting to get a video copy of my presentation, but I've decided to embed the Prezi I made for it.  It might help make what I did in Ghana more clear and give a reader a better understanding of the foundation that this field study in India is built on.  My project would certainly not look the same (or anything close to it, really) if I had not had this first experience in the field.

Based on a "true" Story on Prezi

"Every Adventure Always Looks Like a Mistake Somewhere in the Middle:" Social Situation Triangles and Finding My Place Here

There is a point when traveling- sometime after I stop caring if I wear black and brown together, quit wondering why I am not with my fellow English majors on luxurious London study abroad programs, and finally embrace freezing bucket showers, that I stop waking up in the middle of the night wondering where I am and what the heck I am doing. 

I’m not there yet.

At my honors thesis orientation the instructor told us that "every adventure looks like a mistake somewhere in the middle".  I think I somehow managed to forget how hard field studies are.  I got so used to simplifying my Ghana experience when I got home, like a Band-Aid wrapped too tightly around a wound with no oxygen.  Some things were never given space to heal, or room to just be!  People would always ask, “How was Ghana?”  It was not necessarily an invitation to really talk about it (not because they didn't care, just because it is hard to relate to), and I became so accustomed to the typical “it was good” answer that I also started to over simplify the experience.  Especially this part.

Don't get me wrong.  It was good.  It was amazing!  But it was also really hard.

Getting integrated into a community and gaining access was my biggest struggle in Ghana.  Turns out, it is also my biggest struggle here.  I am beginning my third week and it is about time to feel a bit more adjusted.  These things cannot necessarily be planned, but I did some social situation triangles to help brainstorm some ideas for how to find the people I need to meet in order to write the creative project I was planning on.  Social situation triangles are just ways to think about different social situations that I could encounter as a way to generate more ideas about where I can get more material. 

Side 1- Subjects

FAQ: My First Week in McLeod Ganj

Hi everyone!

I’ve decided to play around with a FAQ format to tackle some of the basic questions about what life is like here for me in Dharamsala.  

Q:  Where are you staying?

A:  I am living with a Tibetan host family.  Five kids ranging from six to twenty six, a dad, uncle, and grandmother.  The mom just died a little over a month ago, which I imagine has seriously impacted the family dynamics, and I sense it especially in my host dad.  They are very kind to me though, and I really enjoy spending time with them, especially my oldest sister who has really taken me under her wing.

Q: What is your living situation like?

A: Back in the states I had been warned that my host family would likely share one room, and it is a good bonding experience if you are also in that room.  This is the case for my family, except I have my own small room, which I’ll admit was a little disappointing at first, although it is probably better for my course work, project, and personality in general because I do value alone time.  I’m just trying to make sure that I do not hide away in my room by going out and sitting on the porch with the family, watching Hindi soap operas I do not pretend to understand, and doing the kora with them, the walk around the Dalai Lama’s temple which is supposed to bring good karma. 

The house is cute.  I cannot think of a better adjective.  It consists of the second level of what we might call an apartment building, but the parts of the house are facing a large balcony that connects everything together.  All of the rooms are painted a chalky blue and the main part of the house is the bedroom/living room/dining room.  There are five beds against the walls that are used as chairs and couches when people are not sleeping.  A small TV is in the right corner of the room that is usually showing soap operas, cricket matches, or news events that often involve the Tibetan government or President Obama.  On the walls there are many bright decorations and pictures of His Holiness the Dalai Lama as well as maps and calendars from Tibet.  Photographs with the family, including the mom, are also adorning the walls.

If you pass a curtain you enter a different part of the house that I have yet to feel comfortable in.  There is a second small TV on the floor that the kids like to watch.  Off to the right there is the kitchen entry, which I am also not often allowed in.  I was raised to always help with the dishes, but that is a no go in my host family.  The most I have been able to push this rule has been taking my own dishes back or putting the condiments back into the refrigerator.  Even this is walking the line though.  

There are two other rooms that are not connected to the main part of the house.  One is the prayer room, which I’ve only been in once.   This is where they do their morning prayers.  I don’t remember much about it other than it was elaborate and beautiful.  There are also two beds in there where two of my sisters stay.

The other room is mine.  It is small but cozy.  Below the one small window there is a tiny nightstand that I use for a desk and shelf, and my bed is on the opposite wall.  I thought I would be sleeping on the floor here in India, but I do indeed have a bed.  It does, however, not have a mattress.  Just a lot of blankets for padding, which I’ve grown used to.  

My favorite part about my room is the one decoration on the wall above my bed.  It is a big poster that says “Enjoy the present.”   There is no doing it justice to describe it, so I’ve posted the picture instead.

The other section of the house is right next to my bedroom.  The bathroom.  It has a shower and a squatter.  I’m proud to say that I have finally figured out how that whole situation works.

Q: What are you eating?

The Learning Process that Never Ends...

It has been too long since I have blogged, and I have plenty of content to blog about.  I've had a lot on my mind, and the Internet situation has been a little disappointing for what I need it for.

As far as my project and course contracts are concerned, I've got a lot to look into.  Last week was getting grounded, but this week I'm determined to be productive.

Professor Burton sent me a helpful email coaching me on "Connecting," an aim of this blog, and offered me more advice on other ways to improve my blog and learning experience here in India.  I think it could be beneficial for anyone trying to learn the ropes of digital writing.  I'm not new to blogging, but the learning process never seems to end.

I am also struggling to juggle these contracts in light of my honors thesis proposal I'm trying to straighten out.  Stay tuned on that....

I've decided to post my response to Professor Burton.  It highlights some of my concerns, confusion, enthusiasm, and talks about the specific ways that I will be improving this blog.  I think it encapsulates pretty much everything I have been thinking and feeling in regard to my academic responsibilities this last week in the field. 

Professor Burton!

Bah!  I’m sorry… The emails have piled up in my mailbox for so long, and then I got sick, and I freaked out, and then I didn’t blog, and then…. and then…

Excuses.  Well.  I’m here and more grounded now!  I’ve also requested that Jay bring you a copy of our rough course contract, but I’m anxious to get more things ironed out.  First, let me address some of the points from your last email.

Rethinking Consume, Create, and Connect

I am starting to at least think about getting more settled in here in Mcleod Ganj, India, and as part of that I need to think more seriously about my course contracts.  I think by outlining it here I can work out my thoughts and feel less overwhelmed in general.

Course contracts are independent classes that field study students set up with faculty at BYU that work to get students credit within their major but also enhance their experience in the field as well.  Ideally, they are supposed to compliment the projects they have developed.  As part of my ten credits, I am taking a 3 credit Digital Culture class with Dr. Burton, my faculty mentor.  We still have yet to flesh out what it is I need to be doing entirely, but it is based on three aims that I have outlined in my blog intent. Consume.  Create.  Connect.

After an email response from Dr. Burton I realized that I needed to get a little bit more of an understanding of these points.  I have since revised my blog intent to include a few things.  Create is more than just creating the way I have already done in Ghana.  I also need to increase my online presence, figure out how to create things so that they are available to others, and find collaborators.  It should go hand in hand with "connect," which is where I need the most growth.  While this will be the most difficult, it will be the most rewarding if I can stretch beyond my mere one person undergraduate experience and share what I am learning with people who can actually benefit from it.  These three aims need to be just as present as my avatars.  

Something else I will be doing for my Digital Culture class is following the Digital Culture Blog and connecting with students who are currently in the classroom back in Provo.  

So yes, keep an eye out for that.  Also, I had one friend email me to mention that she does not comment on my blog because it is a class assignment and was not sure I wanted my professors to see.  I want EVERYONE to know that this is a place where both the personal and academic sphere are coming into one blog.  As part of connect I would love nothing more than to hear from you.   

McLeod Ganj at Long Last

Delhi was a big, angry blur.  Despite our fair share of difficulties we managed to get everyone there, limbs and all, and endured another bus ride.  First time out of three that it did not break down in the middle of the night. 

But here we are!  Mcleod Ganj! Home sweet home.

This morning we arranged host families.  By arranging host families I mean we all piled our luggage into a giant taxi, met at the State Bank of India, and I had to rely on quick prayer and intuition to match up different names with members of my group.  So far so good.  My host family is very kind.  And big.  Five kids, a dad, uncle, grandma, and even a dog.  I have my own room.  Which I think can be a good and a bad thing, but mostly I think I am happy about that.

More updates soon.  I just need to find my feet.

Virginia

Mcleod Ganj, Upper Dharamsala. Home.

Myra.  So glad this time around I can actually load pictures.  

A Bus to Dharmasala

If the flight to India was short, the bus ride to and from Dharamsala makes up for it. 

I have few regrets, but not taking the train is one of them.  Jodha and I arrived at the bus station at dusk, the night heightening our suspicions of the other travelers.  In a cloud of confusion we boarded, clinging to our backpacks sitting protectively in our laps and waited for our 12 hour journey to begin.  We made it about an hour out of Delhi before the bus broke down.  It was midnight.  Too scared to leave the bus like everyone else we sat there, half waiting, half sleeping, and half eaten alive from the malicious mosquitoes.  Three hours later another bus, a plain old city bus, showed up and took us the rest of the way.

It did not take long before I realized that my intense fear of needing to use the bathroom was in fact a reality.  I thought about a Ziplock bag for a few hours, but luckily someone else had the guts to ask the driver for their own sake.  We got off, stumbled around in the dark, half fancied there would be some kind of restroom nearby, and finally concluded that the nearby tree would have to do.  It did.  And boy it was a world better than the real rest stop.  Jodha tried to use it.  She was in there about five seconds before she came hurtling out, wide eyed, with an expression of pure terror all over her face.  I can't help but laugh just writing about it.

Somewhere down the line something happened with the tire.  Some men got out to help.  One was thoughtlessly left behind.  I am not a gambler, but if I could bet money on a car race I would not hesitate putting in all my savings on our bus driver.  We swerved in and out of traffic like there was no such thing as lanes, the driver laying on the horn like it was his last wish.  It sounded like beginning trumpet players warming up for the first time.  He stopped for nothing, not even the cows mindlessly lounging in the middle of the road, never having to worry about being made into hamburgers.  The whole back row was throwing up, especially by the time we got to the mountain switch backs of the Himalayas.

We got there.  Fifteen hours later.  I enjoyed watching the gradual sunrise, noting the faces of the other passengers.  Hours earlier I did not trust them, mere shadows and projections of my own fears, but now I recognized them as fellow travelers and normal people.  The annoying, foul mouthed teenage girls were now our friends, helping us figure out the right area codes for calling Delhi.  There was the boy who woke us up when the new bus came.  A guy from London that finally warmed up to Jodha, and another friend who made sure that we got our refund.  (Yes, refund, it was that bad, even for the natives). 

No longer such strangers, they became people, and if there was anything good to take from that bus ride it was that lesson. 

Virginia

Greetings from Delhi!

                Leaving Utah was everything it usually is.  A lot of last minutes, frantic running around, emotional stresses, a wide range of feelings, you name it.  After my parents dropped me off at the airport and I checked in my bag I got a surge of excitement.  My feet knew these shoes, my old Chacos, stained with some of my best memories.  I felt the intoxication of having just one bag on my back to carry me through the months.  I soaked it all on. I could not contain the smile.    

                Believe it or not, the flight from SLC to Delhi felt pretty short.  Our first stop was in Detroit, where I had my last Wendy’s hamburger for some time to come.  The picture on the left is of this strange tunnel Detroit had that reminded me of something in Fantasia.  Amsterdam’s airport was just what I imagined it to be.  There was a man in the women’s bathroom (oops, we are in Europe now, I mean the toilets) and tulips were sold by the dozens at nearly every shop. 

The only slightly adventurous thing about our plane ride was on the way to Delhi.  A guy who thought he spoke English sat to the right of me.  He reeked of alcohol.  It did not take long before he passed out on my shoulder.  He was huge, and I could not push him off of me.  Jodha, another BYU field study student traveling with me (and her name is changed on this blog, like all names), fell asleep on my left arm.  I gave in and just let it be for a few hours.  That only lasted until dinner, because that was when the drunken man in his slumber stuck his arm in my food.  Finally a flight attendant came to the rescue.  With a lot of effort, he was finally coerced into moving seats. 

Things have been cake since we arrived in Delhi, minus Jodha getting held up by some security with guns for walking back into the airport without her passport.   I have been told so many things about this place that I hardly know what to make of it.  I do not think I have yet seen the real city, so I am holding off on my own judgments.  For now, I can only safely say that it is very hot, and some things, like the traffic, bring me right back to Ghana.  I have yet to really see Delhi.

Jodha is staying to do her field work in Delhi, and her host family picked us up.  They have been so hospitable and accommodating.  They have a very, very nice house.  I have been living like a princess.  Literally.  Servants, and some of the best Indian food I have ever eaten in my life.  My first night in India I could not sleep because the AC was too cold.  I do not think that is what most people could say.  We have been shopping a bit with “auntie,” Jodha’s host mom.  I got myself my first suit.  A suit is not what you are thinking though.  It is a long Asian type shirt worn over some glorified scrub pants.  They are really comfortable.  Mine is a sea green and a light cyan blue.  I feel a bit like a balloon version of Princess Jasmine, but the ladies in the house insist that it looks good. 

Tomorrow, Jodha and I will be arriving in Dharamsala.  From there I will get a phone and find the housing coordinator to try and figure out where the students and I will be living for the next three months.  Today I am frantically trying to get together my last minutes that I forgot to do before leaving, including drafting my honors thesis proposal so that I can try and getting some funding for this project.  Wish me luck! 

Adela

Avatars I am Taking to India

I have already mentioned in my blog intent my plan to use different avatars of my personality to document my experience in a variety of ways.  This is a way that I generate a variety of material to offer a more holistic representation of my experience.  The name, I feel, is very suiting, especially since this time around I will actually be in India where the name originates.  However, I think it would be beneficial to explore my Ghana avatars a little bit more.  Since I am hoping to do more with the connect aim of my statement, I would like people to read this and know that Myra, Adela, and Virginia are all a part of me, so do not freak out if you see one of their signatures at the end of a blog post. 

My first avatar, Myra, is going to be the name I use for all of my photography.  I did a lot with this avatar during my field research in Ghana last year, and since it was so successful I decided to keep the name the same. 

My second avatar, Adela, will be the romantic anthropologist in me.  She is a variation off of Ava, another avatar I explored last year.  I decided to change her name to Adela for a number of reasons.  First, I think that she reminds me a lot of Adela from A Passage to India by E.M. Forster, a kind of thoughtful but also naïve character I think I resemble a lot in the “romantic anthropologist” state of mind.  Adela is also the name of a main character in La Dama Del Alba, a Spanish play that I just finished reading.  The character in this play was at an interesting point romantically where things were either going to go really well or pretty terrible.  I can also relate to this.

My third Avatar, Virginia, is going to be the postmodern travel writer in me.  She is a new and improved edition of Gipsy, another avatar from Ghana.  My more aesthetic writing will be under her.  Her name is Virginia because I am hoping to implement a more stream of conscious style, like Virginia Woolf, one of my favorite authors. 

Sometimes I will be all of them.  Sometimes none.  But every so often I will be just one, and exploring that mindset is always a beneficial experience for my kind of project.