A Tibetan Wedding in India

“Same same, but different.”  This is a common Tibetan saying directly translated into English.  This morning I went to my first Tibetan wedding, and while there are many differences from the weddings I have attended, the feelings and thoughts I think when attending a wedding were the same.  A great “consume” activity if we are talking about being a student of Tibetan culture.  

We were invited to this wedding by Elizabeth because it was a member of the host family she is staying with.  The extended family came over to discuss if this girl would be allowed to marry the boy (being a love marriage vs. arranged), and once they agreed it was okay they threw the whole thing together in two days!  Compare that to the countless hour and stress that goes into planning out a wedding in the States. 

In India Tibetan weddings are much different.  My host sister told me that in Tibet they last fifteen days.  This one just lasted all day. 

The program said that it started at 9, but that was far from the truth.  Polychronic time and whatnot.  We were going with the family and did not arrive at the reception hall until 10.  We sat around and ate snacks (Tibetan cookies, rice, and some derivative of trail mix) until it was time for the scarf ceremony.  There was nothing too fancy or formal about this.  The couple sat near the alter of His Holiness the Dalai Lama and people would form a line and drape white scarves over the couple and the members of the family.  There were no vows exchanged, no grand gestures for complex formalities, but you could tell it was still very important.  The bride wore a silk red chupa (a traditional dress), and both her and the groom wore some special Tibetan hats made of fur.  People showed up in jeans and t-shirts of chupas.  It was so much more relaxed in general than the weddings I am used to—the one I have dreaded planning for myself most of my life.  

Since we had a few hours to blow we played some cards that they handed out.  Kristen had us play a silly fortune telling game with different boys we could potentially marry.  It was the perfect setting.  After a few rounds of that we all talked about what is happening in our current dating lives, how these relationships came to be, first kisses, and all of those other feelings that come creeping up when you are at a wedding.  We talked about dream weddings and ideal honeymoon destinations.  I don’t know why I struggle so much coming to terms with any one of these ideas for myself.  Call me crazy, but I think the most romantic kind of wedding is an elopement.  If you could guarantee that my wedding could be as relaxed and enjoyable as this Tibetan couple’s wedding though, I think I could be more than happy with that kind of arrangement.  

After the scarf ceremony there was more eating.  Then more eating.  Lunch was served, but we left shortly after that.  It was good food, but after a pancake breakfast and the snacking I had a hard time stuffing it all in.  I assume that the eating would go on till dinner (which was supposed to start at 6).  While we did not attend the rest of the festivities, I am very grateful for Elizabeth and her family for inviting us.  

Oh love… I’m quite sappy today.

Adela  and Myra

Third Time Seeing His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet

Last weekend the Dalai Lama came to the TCV (Tibetan Children's Village where Kristen volunteers) for some teaching.  It lasted two days, and each day a group of us hiked up the hill to tune into some static English radio translations.  Sadly, most of it went over my head, but I enjoy learning about Buddhist philosophy.  It gives me a great appreciation for this religion and confirms my testimony in my own faith as a Latter-day Saint.

I'm including a video that Elizabeth took of His Holiness entering the TCV.  This was the third time we have seen him in McLeod Ganj and won't be the last!



Adela

Yoga and Meditation Teaching Class in McLeod Ganj, India

“Relax, normal breathe…”

“Try, try, try!”

“Yoga time happy time.  Relax time.  Enjoy feel...”

“First me… not like this, they are wrong…”

“Yoga time no any type of tensions…”

“Control your mind…”

“Head touch the knee! Head touch the knee!”

These are just some of the one-liners I am quickly learning from Om at the Om Yoga and Meditation Center.  As part of my “consume” aim, I thought I would share a little about it.  Kristen, Megan, Elizabeth and I joined yoga teacher training classes, and I could not be happier with this decision.  There are many places to find yoga classes or teacher training courses in McLeod Ganj and in all Dharamsala really, but the “Om Yoga Meditation Centre” is the best price, and so far from what I’ve observed, the best company.  It is run by Om and his wife Rita.  Rita was the Hindi teacher for the India field study group of 2010, and has quickly become a great friend.

Honestly, looking forward to yoga and meditation everyday is one of the best decisions I have made here in the field.  It is helping me with my body and also my mind, giving me more energy and optimism for my project, giving me something concrete to look forward to each day.  Right now I feel like a cripple on account of being the opposite of flexible, but I am looking forward to getting better and better each day.  Does anyone know how long it takes to improve flexibility, or different techniques that help get you there faster?  Any advice on how to do silent meditation would be helpful too...

Anyways, if anyone is interested in yoga classes, teacher training (100 and 200 hours available, as well as super amazing student discounts), Hindi lessons, or reiki healing classes in McLeod Ganj, India, check out the Om Yoga Meditation Center.  You can email them at om.yoga@ymail.com.

Adela

Aurm and Palm Reading

I met a gem of an informant last week.  He fits nowhere in the skeleton plan I had for my travel essays, but somehow gets his own category as an “unforeseen character.”  His name is Aurm, and he is a local shopkeeper from Nepal who sells traditional flutes to tourists.  Don’t tell him that though.  He hates being labeled as a “tourist hassle.”  

In fact, Aurm hates most things.  The ever rising pollution and symphony of horns from constant traffic, people who don’t care to hear his music that he actually writes and cares about, McLeod Ganj and his situation in life in general, the visa process, his ex wife, the litter in abundance, and particularly books and movies, which he sees as necessary for stupid people who need to have “a way to dumb down reality.”  From there he will motion to the street, “See this?  You have all the drama you’ll ever need right here.”  

There is something savory about his bitterness—a man better than his circumstances who is keenly aware of it.  Aurm seems nothing short of brilliant.  He speaks ten languages, writes music inspired by peoples voices, carves his own flutes, has great one liners, and enjoys reading palms in his spare time.

This is what mine says.  Apparently.

The first thing he noted was a freckle on my right palm.  “You will inherit a fortune,” he says.  I laughed.  I’d love to know where that is coming from, because I don’t foresee it.

“You are like water.”

“Like what?”

“Water.  Your feelings are like water.  Always on the move.  Restless and sneaky, going from one place and relationship to the next whenever it gets difficult.”

“Hmm… okay.  Go on.”

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?

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.