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. 

April 13, 2011: Learning Journal 13

Finals are here.  Papers are due.  IRB is in.  Marathon Meeting is on the horizon.  I guess that means that this whole India thing really is happening after all?

I have less than a month before leave for India.  This week is hard to write a journal about because I feel like my feelings and general level of preparedness has fluctuated so much.  For right now though, I feel good.

We talked about a lot of important things in the field facilitator training meeting.  This was the meeting we attended to get on track for wrapping up the end of the semester and preparing for the last minute details before going into the field.  It is time for the logistics that we have been not answering all semester to come out with a vengeance.  I could do a 12 page journal on what we talked about alone, but it is all a bit daunting at the moment.  This is a snap shot what it looked like in my head (SAFETY AND SECURITY, FIELD FACILITATOR ROLE, ITINERARIES AND HTH....PRAY PRAY PRAY AND PRAY SOME MORE!).  Lots of good information, but a LOT of it.  Since I have not been to the field, these are the kinds of things that I am most afraid of.  Luckily I have a lot of people in the office, and Melissa, the previous facilitator, helping me out.