Debriefing

Yes, it's long; I have faith in you.

Debriefing Part I: Who I Am

In many ways I’m still processing India and will for quite some time. India showed me new things, gave me new ideas, developed ideas I already had, and reprioritized things. In debriefing, which is more or less a time of reflection and recovery, I’ve tried to put these things into words. I confess, the ideas that aren’t in an immature phase aren’t certain to me, and I really don’t want to hurt or offend anyone. There are some things in my life that are for certain. First of all, I am a Christian in every since of the word. I’m not a Christian out of tradition or to fit in with any group of people.

I believe Jesus is the Son of God and is God at the same time and that his perfect life, murder, and resurrection renewed the relationship mankind broke with God. I believe that those who believe that will have a love-relationship with God for eternity and those who don’t believe will not be included in God’s glory. I believe the act of Christ Jesus defines what it means to love, it defines who I am as a person, and defines my worldview. That said, I have nothing to offer but that love to those who are unlike me, and when I fail to fall short of my offer, I can only hope that you or whoever I trespass will accept my repentance. Nothing angers me more than blatant injustice, and if I am over-critical or apprehensive in reaction to it, I apologize.

All of that said, you know who I am now, and you know that I don’t mean anything I say to be any sort of attack. By God’s grace I do my best to love God, love my neighbor, and love my enemy. I’m attempting to let go of a hatred for unjust people, and remember that they are merely hostages in war (I must give Donald Miller credit for the analogy, which I borrowed from his book Searching for God Knows What). For the most part, my thoughts are religious and spiritual, so if you read nothing else please read part IV, which is on my spiritual thoughts in this journey. This is what I’ve been thinking about since I’ve gotten back from India, and most of it hasn’t really come to fruition yet, but I’ve gotten a lot out it already myself and, religious or not, I hope you do too.

Debriefing Part II: Material Readjustment

Did you ever see the Kevin Costner version of Robin Hood? At the beginning of the movie he’s been kidnapped by Muslims during the crusades and when he finally escapes and gets back to Britain, he runs to the shore, falls on his face and roles in the wet sand. I kind of figured it would be like that for me when I finally got back to America and in many ways it was. I mean, I wasn’t going to rub the ketchup smeared hamburger bun all over my face or douse myself in a proper gin and tonic, but when you walk off the airplane onto carpet that’s cleaner that any plate you’ve eaten off of in the last month, well you kind of want to kiss it. Don’t worry, I didn’t.

Aside from a completely confused sleep cycle, it really is great to be back. Need water? I no longer have to find a stand on the side of the road, make sure that they can make change, and hope for the best. Now, I simply get up, fill a glass with ice, and turn on the faucet. I no longer have cravings for beef, because meat loaf, steak, burgers, and spaghetti with meat sauce are normal staples in American food. A comfortable temperature is as simple as the push of a button, and Brittany and I are no longer forced to sleep on two twin beds pushed together. I was able to go into a bar that had more than Fosters and Kingfisher (terrible beers) and order a Sweetwater Pale Ale (I could only afford one drink for the time being, the gin and tonic will have to wait). I don’t have to hunt down an internet café and use a dinosaur computer to check e-mail

I’ve been reunited with my family, who I missed dearly. I have the comfort of my cat, or I suppose rather she has the comfort of me. Seeing a friend is as easy as calling them up, and once I recover from jet lag, I intend to see them as soon as possible. I’m back in my hometown, Chattanooga, which I knew I loved, but I didn’t realize just how much I appreciate this city (even though it is in the Nanny State).

While being back is great, there are things I do miss about India. First of all, I miss the Soni family. It’s not the same spending the afternoon watching TV, running errands, cleaning, playing guitar, or surfing the net. Being with them was really great, as friendships in India are quite different than they are here. It’s not uncommon to see two grown men, old or young, walking down the road arms around each other’s shoulder or holding hands. I certainly couldn’t see myself holding hands with my good friend Chris or walking down the street with my arm on Brad’s shoulders, and Kailash and I never held hands, but now I see how it’s so easy for them. I’m not criticizing my own friends, as they have been more than generous to me in patience, understanding, and even material giving, so I hope that I’m not making my friends feel like I’m ungrateful. I am more grateful than they know and wouldn’t trade them for any other friend.

All I’m saying is that friendship is different in India and I really value that difference. Kailash was incredibly giving, and it hurt his feelings if you weren’t receptive of his sacrifice. It was a pleasure for him to go out of his way, and it was rewarding to him if he was able to make us comfortable and happy. I kind of got to thinking about that part of the Bible where God is going to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah and Abraham petitions God not to destroy the city if he can find righteous people within it. I’m not sure what Abraham meant by righteous, but think if I have ever met non-Christians who had a genuine heart of love and morality it was Kailash and his family, and whenever I think about that passage now I think that if God was going to destroy India (which is as likely as destroying anywhere else), I would petition Him, “What about the Soni family?” It doesn’t feel right not to mention Suresh, my sitar teacher, who adamantly worked against the social grain, concerning himself with what was good and right above money. He had such a unique innocence about him that some might write of as simplicity (not in the naïve since), but I attribute to his heart for goodness. In many ways, it broke my heart that they aren’t Christians, because they all shared a love so Christ-like, I think it would have been great for them to see a God they could identify with.

I hope the religious commentary doesn’t offend any of my non-religious friends. I know my thoughts can be interpreted as condescending or even as “it’s a shame they’re going to hell”, but I don’t mean it that way at all. I just know that I saw people worshiping papier-mâché idols of gods in order to manipulate the spirits into blessing the person. I also know that the god I believe in isn’t manipulated and doesn’t bless a person because they have anything to offer Him. The god of the Bible has given the greatest blessing of all in the sacrifice of Jesus, and I just saw that same love in the people I became friends with.

There are other things I’ll miss about India. I’ll miss the food, because gulabjamin over here is disgusting and in India it is ecstasy. I’ll miss the inexpensive products like ten dollar handicraft wooden tables, four dollar movie tickets, ten dollar meals for two, twenty five cent mangoes, or a buck to take an auto across town. Speaking of mangoes, the lady we met at the airport gave us this mango that was absolutely the most delicious mango I’ve ever had in my life. The flesh yielded to my lips and the juice flowed into my mouth as its almost overwhelming sweetness aroused my palette. Better than the richest chocolate, sweetest strawberry, or finest gourmet dessert, the mango was nothing short of my top five most sensational experiences. I know that sounds really sensual, and I don’t mean it that way, it was just incredible. I imagine, in Heaven, if/when we eat we will have those mangoes for dessert. They might be served on top of chocolate mouse or with sticky rice, but even by themselves they scream of God’s creation.

With all the religious and food talk I digress, but that’s kind of the point of a debriefing isn’t it? To recover and reminisce. Anyway, I will also miss seeing beautiful women everywhere. See, I don’t mean that I miss having a bunch of women around that were sexy, but I mean, I miss seeing old, young, fat, and skinny women who wore such beautiful clothes that it was hard not to see them as beautiful. I guess what I mean is, I’ll miss sarees which compliment just about any woman who wears them.

There are things I won’t miss. I won’t miss the liter and pollution. I won’t miss the bureaucratic, money driven, selfish culture so many Indians are attached to. Obviously, cultural stereotyping is dangerous, and as you’ve seen I am very accepting and open regarding Indians, because, just like us, they have many cultural problems that not every Indian shares. Unfortunately, the mentality shared by most of the culture is imbedded in everything you do everywhere you go, so it really is hard not to stereotype. I know it sounds weird, but I really do love the people for the most part. I won’t miss crappy restaurant service that even the nicest restaurants delivered. I won’t miss the lack of fixed prices that made every purchase so uncertain.

There’s more I’m glad to have back, more I’ll miss, and more I won’t miss. These are the things that really stuck out in my mind. What I appreciate about my experience most are the people we made friends with, culture, food, architecture, and beauty.

Debriefing Part III: Learning from Each Other and On the Outside Looking In

In many ways, going to India allowed me to step back and look at the United States from a distance. From India, I looked at the United States and I saw a country that voted for people who sicken me. Their politics move with the wind depending on what they think will get the most votes, and I watch the American people eat it up as they look past the lies and corruptness and feed off of the entertainment. I see a country that misses and dodges the point with whether or not our presidents are patriotic enough when they pledge to the flag, if the female candidate is strong enough, and gay marriage. Leadership is a great quality, but many of our past and current candidates are liars. They are so full of the nastiest waste I don’t know why our country even considers them. I don’t know why we aren’t voting for candidates based on their stance on poverty, the environment, and moral fiber.

Strange enough, I also felt like I was on the outside looking in while I was in India. I guess, as a stranger, I was able to witness without involvement. I saw the worst poverty I’ve seen in my life, yet I paid 12.5% in taxes. Where is that money going? I saw a country driven by a discriminatory religion that valued human life based on a label given by a broken system. I saw a country that cared so little for life itself that I’ve had stronger reactions to accidentally running over a squirrel than most of them do to witnessing a human die or starve to death.

As soon as a white person comes in and starts complaining about all of India’s problems, everyone wants to say “You’re just trying to westernize them” or “mind your own business”. Even if those are fair assertions, it doesn’t make it any more ok for India to allow for pollution, prejudice, and neglect. These things are morally wrong according to Hinduism, so how is it westernizing to insinuate that a group of people shouldn’t be hypocrites?

I said I thought we had a lot to learn from each other, but then I didn’t come up with much. Yes, it would be great if India shared the same abhor for death, wise use of money, and strive for equality that the United States did. And it would be great if America valued family more, put love and sacrifice into their friendships, and had better public transportation. But both countries have improvements to make independent of the other. Both have corrupt governments, money management problems, and would rather concentrate on unimportant things in order to divert attention from imperative matters like poverty and pollution.

This is all to say, that so many people have asked me “What did you get politically/sociologically/etc?” and those are great questions I’ve tried to answer throughout my posts and here, but when you start getting into those things you can hit sensitive subjects. My point in all of it isn’t who you should vote for or how Indians need to stop being stupid and start using Western commodes and toilet paper, I’m just saying that as someone who was able to be between cultures for a bit, the thoughts I already had were a bit more accentuated and if either country wants what is best for itself, people need to start really reconsidering morality over popularity and money. Maybe my criticisms and their solutions don’t really address any of that, but I’ve heard so many people say “Why not Hillary? Yes she’s a liar, but the economy was good during Bill and that’s all I care about.” It breaks my heart, that we would value money over integrity or even dodge the real issues that will affect the future (including money in the future).

Debriefing IV: Spiritual

I read lots of books on this trip. I read Power Evangelism by Vineyard (my church) founder John Wimber, The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, Searching for God Knows What, and Through Painted Deserts both by Donald Miller. I also read some of Me Talk Pretty Day by David Sedaris, and has hilarious as it was, it doesn’t really seem applicable to this portion of the debriefing. Of all the books I read, I think I got the most out of Searching for God Knows What, but it’s hard to say because Narnia was so influential as well.

Even though it was the last of the books I read, I think Through Painted Deserts is a good place to start. The book is the autobiographical story of author Donald Miller as he and his friend Paul drive from Texas to Oregon in a Volkswagen van. It’s a rewrite of his first and unsuccessful book, Prayer and Art of the Volkswagen Maintenance which is a reference to the Robert Pirsig book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which is about the author and his son driving cross-country on motorcycles as he philosophizes.

I think Through Painted Deserts (TPD) really struck me; I found it relational that as Don was going on a long journey he considered heavily what he believed and anticipated the maturing of said beliefs. Before Brittany and I left we ignored our increasing weight, were a little less discriminating about how much we drank, and were a bit irresponsible with money. We weren’t gluttons, alcoholics, and didn’t go into debt, but I think it was Brittany who first admitted, “I think we think India is going to solve all of our problems.” It kind of hit home for me, as I really had been thinking that once we get to India we won’t be able to drink, so what does it matter?

It was kind of silly to think going into the pressure cooker it would solve any problems. By pressure cooker, I mean the atmosphere that will break you. In the pressure cooker you aren’t in control and the conditions are no longer pampering. The pressure cooker is a battleground for your emotions, spirituality, finances, and body. And we thought, oh I’ll lose weight in India. Sure it was true, but that didn’t mean that it was going to solve any problems.

As silly as those things were, it wasn’t silly to anticipate that this could be a time of growth and maturity, and it’s for this reason I found TPD so relational. Donald Miller made the point that so many people were quick to associate his trip with “going to find himself”. Just as Donald Miller pointed out, any such journey will certainly teach us a great deal about ourselves, but the term “going to find myself” is a bit strong. I knew that whether I learned something in India from the people, the books, or just experience that I would come back with new insight and maturity. All three of those things certainly contributed to what I’ve come back with.

What I can’t seem to emphasize enough is that I don’t think that I was enlightened, came to any conclusions to their fullest maturity, or am better than anyone for any of this. The following is mostly just thoughts, roughly undeveloped, that I had on the trip that was mostly based on reading, developed in myself and the people, and exercised in experience. Hopefully you read part I, which was more or less an introduction, and saw my beliefs and intentions of humility.

I’m increasingly disinterested in politics. It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with politics, and I’m really grateful many Christians have concerned themselves with the government. That said, I think the primary problem in our political system is rooted in the human condition.

When I was in India, I made a pretty ignorant statement to an Indian friend that even though I had plenty of money in India, that in the United States I was actually pretty poor. It’s funny what Americans think poor is, but there came a point in India when I really had to ask “Just who am I to think I’m poor?” And it’s true: I have a TV, cell phone, computer, and so much more. Just because a person is making ends meet doesn’t make them poor, it makes them materialistic, a sin I am regrettably the chief of. In India there’s not just poverty, but induced poverty. All of the sudden my inability to pay my cable bill doesn’t make me feel poor. It isn't uncommon for parents to cut their children's arms or legs off so when they send them out on the street to beg, people will feel more sorry for them and give them more money. It isn't uncommon for husbands who are sick of their wives to stage kitchen fires that wives usually survive only to be thrown onto the streets with untreated burn scars. Brittany and I crossed a bridge everyday and saw a man named Hanuman (named after the Hindu monkey god of fortitude and strength) who had no legs. The best we could tell through the language barrier was that he had been an auto driver and been in a terrible accident that took his legs and because he could no longer provide for his wife and daughter, his wife left him and took his daughter and went to south India. I could only picture him lying in the middle of the wreckage, waking to find his legs gone and knowing that his wife would leave him and he would no longer have a home, but have to beg on the streets. It's sad to see little girls begging on the side of the street, and you know it's a matter of time before their pimps stop making them beg for money and start making them have sex with strange and dirty men.

That is poor, and the questions isn’t how a good and just god could let this happen, the question is how people who believe in a good and just god could let this happen. Supply-side economics work great in politics, but it’s no excuse for a Christian to stop loving. Brittany and I visited one church in Delhi, and we went to the pastor’s home where he had a servant and a cook (two separate people). At first I was kind of put out that the pastor of the church was putting his money towards such luxury, but I got to thinking about it. First of all, he opened his house to just about anyone to the extent that one couple in his church who didn’t have a home were staying there until they could get back on their feet. Then I found out the church wasn’t his primary source of income, and that servants in India cost considerably less than they do in the States. I also realized that he was providing them with solid jobs with generous pay (apparently he paid them a bit more than the norm) and a good work environment (air conditioned).

Then I thought about how this afforded his family the opportunity to represent Christianity in front of two people who may never meet a Christian otherwise, and if the servants were Christians then it was providing within the community, which is also great. So, it’s not that the trickle-down effect is bad, it’s just it isn’t any way for a Christian to suppose that they might circumvent the need to love, but I think that it can provide the means to love. We must have a healthy fear that we don’t try and fix things or make excuses with only money.

My friend and I were discussing many of the problems in the church and both agree that the church could really use a reformation, but the question is where do we start? You can't just nail ninety-five theses to a church door, because the church is so divided. You can't stand on a street corner, because that's what bigots do. And we have jobs and wives and lives, and whether you're working a manual labor job or going to school and waiting tables, it's not so easy to just grab a television spot every Sunday morning or Monday night and put in your two cents, not that we would be qualified anyway. But I think I've found the weakness in Christians like us, who recognize the need for reformation. It's prayer. It's not that we're selfish, I mean, we're as broken as the rest, and we don't want to change the church because it's what we want, but we want to change it because we desire to further the kingdom of God. I'm so quick to wonder how I'm supposed to do this, and if I'm doing it right, that I never stop to put it in God's hands. It's so easy to believe you can control things, particularly in America. It's so easy to listen to a sermon where the preacher says "God is in control, and you never were in the first place", and of course you know it's true, but it's not until you really lose control that it hits you. So many times my determination was insufficient, but a simple prayer yielded results. Of course, prayer isn't a magic spell, and God didn't always answer my prayers, and He never did it in the way I expected it. Funny how our idealist plans are so fickle compared to God's plans.

All that said, prayer really is more powerful than we give it credit. In the pressure cooker, it's easy to remember to pray, but when we're in a place where we can't see the pressure cooker, that is spiritual warfare, we lose sight of the power of prayer. I'm not suggesting that you don't understand the power of prayer, this is more conclusions I've come to concerning my own life. I used to pray like it was a conversation with God, but prayer has changed for me in the past couple of months. It’s not as drastic as speaking in tongues, but there is a verse that says the Holy Spirit intercedes for us where words aren't enough. I'm not sure how to put it into words, but there were times when I unpredictably found myself in intense prayer and found myself in the very real presence of God. All of the sudden the crap (and that's just what it is) that we love so much doesn't seem so important. All of the sudden, it wasn't about "doing my part" or "being right" it was about doing right all of the time, even if meant sacrifice.

So, where do we start? Don't be right, do right (being right is good, but pointless without doing right). Brittany and I started feeding Hanuman (no legs) every day. Sometimes we'd save some of our meal and package it, and sometimes we'd even go into a restaurant and sit and wait for his meal without getting anything for ourselves. Within a week or so, Hanuman started making demands of us. "Bring chipatis [bread] at five o’clock", and he even asked us for money, but I kept giving food. I knew that the love we extended to Hanuman wasn't received. I knew that even though we took the time to find out his name and story, which I think so few people who give actually do, and when we took pictures with him we weren't afraid to put our arms around his dirty body, that he had a hard heart. I didn't really understand why I kept giving since his heart was so black and selfish, it certainly wasn't out of obligation, and in retrospect I think it's because I knew that what he meant for evil God could use for good.

Brittany and I had made friends with several people in Udaipur and we wanted to know Hanuman's story, so we told them "We're giving food everyday to this man with no legs, what do you know about him", but no one wanted to talk about him, they just said [paraphrased] "It's good to give to people who can't provide for themselves because they are handicapped. God will bless you, so give!" And it kind of struck me that our innocent curiosity about this man had led to the mention of God. Of course, they meant whoever their god was, but this presented such an opportunity and I was able to say "We don't do it so God will bless us, we give because our god has given us the greatest blessing of all."

These are all new ideas and thoughts for me, which are slowly maturing with the help of Donald Miller, CS Lewis, etc. I think Schindler's List is a great example of how a wealthy person can sacrifice. Schindler was wrong at the end of the movie. He breaks down because if he had sold his car and his gold ring he might have bought more Jews, but if he wasn't wealthy in the first place he couldn't have saved any Jews at all. At the same time, I don't want to come to the end of my life and say that I accumulated any amount of wealth be it spiritual or material that I didn't share to the fullest extent. In some ways, America seems easy because we can justify not giving material goods and simply love people. It's seems even the poorest people aren't looking for money from you as an individual (obviously some are, but I mean the people we have relationships with), but they want love and acceptance regardless of their income.

Narnia brought me to tears several times each book. It wasn't sadness, happiness, and I can't even explain it. It's just Aslan and how amazing He is. I think that Lewis must have really understood who Jesus and God really are to have created a character that essentially posed as another form of Jesus. It's not that I would pray to Aslan, but I understand Jesus so much more through Aslan. It's unfortunate that commercialism tainted the phrase "What would Jesus do?" because I think Christians really need to ask themselves what it means to be Christ-like and to do things like Christ would do.

I read a book called Power Evangelism by the founder of Vineyard John Wimber and he talked about healing and modern miracles ("signs and wonders") as a way of evangelism. I agreed with a good bit of what he had to say and liked the book, and I believe many of his stories are true, but in some ways I think he missed the point. Yes, casting out demons and healing the sick are miracles, but isn't the greatest "sign and wonder" the sacrifice of Christ? And isn't that sufficient in and of itself? Isn't God's love the only love in the universe than can unharden the hardest and darkest hearts? When I pray I feel a power so intensely great crying is the only emotion I can summon to respond. It's not the Beatles' hippie love, it's a love that encompasses the power of God in all of His anger, glory, affection, sympathy, etc. God can change the church, whether it be through us or someone else generations after us. God may never change the church, it may degrade until His return. All I know is Heaven is hardly an incentive to be a Christian. As someone who is a saved victim in a war, I gladly submit myself to the will of God to be utilized for His Kingdom. I don't want to be as successful a Christian as Paul for my own glory, but because I'm so excited to see God's glory. Obviously, my condition, being a sinful human that is, taints my alleged selfless aspirations to contribute to God's kingdom; all the same, I desire so much to rid myself of such selfishness.

We must remember that, just as Donald Miller pointed out that hate towards homosexuals and sinners is like shooting the hostage, that to wage war on the church in the name of reformation is shooting the hostage. We must wage war on ideas. I could attack godhatesfags.com founder Reverend Phelps, and at 21 with no degree I'd probably be justified in my accusations, but it would be of no real use. Instead, why not counter his hate by loving the hostages he is shooting? Instead of telling him that hate is wrong, show him how Christ would love.

Like I said, these are developing thoughts. I certainly don't think I have it all right, and I certainly don't think my ideas (that I've mostly borrowed from others) are all that deep and great. I just think, with as much humility as I can, that we live in a time that the church will either go into a coma or wake from their sleep and that God is empowering His people to work against the Enemy in this dark time for the Church.

Videos

I totally forgot that I could upload any videos I took on YouTube. Unfortunately, most of them are uneventful; however, for your viewing pleasure I will list them here (chronological).

And three years later (July 2011) I remember to post the link to these videos here from when I was an extra in the Portuguese serial.

Video 1



Video 2



Video 3




Video 4



Video 5




Video 6



Video 7



Video 8




Video 9



Video 10



Video 11



Video 12

Final Pictures...Kind of

I have/had 4 major projects in the aftermath of our India trip

1) Post and label pictures from our remaining time in India on Facebook. This is done, and you can I'll post links in a second.
2) Write a debriefing where I write my thoughts on the whole trip. It's almost done, but it's so long-winded I'll probably have to spend a good bit of time editing
3) I've separated out about 600 (out of 2700) pictures I'd like to enhance the brightness/contrast/color on in Photoshop, then I'd erase the pictures on Facebook and upload the new set. I'd also use the new set as what I primarily showed friends and family
4) I'm going to make a MySpace music page for my sitar teacher

Actually, please just revisit this post as a change in Facebook album formatting has condensed it into three albums linked here.

While 1 and 2 are either almost done or completed, 3 and 4 will take some time (4 will take a while to get to). Now, if you want more photos, you can pick back up at India 6 and then move on to India 7.


So, here's the list


India 1


India 2


India 3


India 4


India 5


India 6


India 7

Keep an eye out in the next couple of days for a final post(s) that goes over the debriefing period. I may split it up over several post or just throw it all on one long post.

For those of you wondering, I'm still recovering from jet lag. In an effort to speed the process up (because nothing is really working) I'm trying to reset my biological clock by not eating as recommended by the latest studies. This puts me in an extremely irritable mood, but hopefully will allow me to stay awake through work (which we resume Wednesday, although I may pick up tomorrow night).

The friend who watched our house while we were away, is staying here for the summer and job hunting. If you or anyone you know has a twin size mattress they'd let us borrow and/or a good summer job available in the Chattanooga area please let us know.

Thanks to all of our family and friends who supported us in our trip. I know you were scared to death, but it was the trip of a lifetime.

Take No Prisoners

As most of you know, Brittany and I, by the grace of God, made it back to our home in America perfectly safe. Of course, there was around a week or so that my posts yielded little or no information concerning my whereabouts, which is most unfortunate. Things got a bit busy, is all.

We will start with Friday the May 23rd since that's the furthest I can remember back to. That was the night we fed the monkeys! We were doing some walking, and stopping along the way at any stores that looked like they had any sarees Brittany might like, when we rounded the corner to find a wall of monkeys. They were about the size of a 7 or 8 year old and there were about 20 monkeys sitting on the wall and swinging in the trees. They were white with black faces and hands and long tails. Then at the very end of the wall a small and old Indian man in a grayish-white shirt and pants was feeding them vanilla cookies. We spent the half hour (it was around 6:00pm) feeding the monkeys with him. They were pretty greedy, and if you approached them without food in hand they bared their sharp black teeth. It wasn't so much a grimace as much as just opening their mouth as if to show a dentist their teeth.

I think it was feeding the monkeys that got me to realizing just how incredible this trip was. Sure, we've all seen monkeys in the zoo, tamed by captivity, but here I was half-way around the world feeding wild monkeys. Sure, there are plenty of tourist and backpackers, but I'm not sure I personally know anyone who would willing go to India for fun, and so it was kind of cool knowing I was in India feeding monkeys. It was great.

Sunday afternoon, Kailash's brother's son Abhay (I know that's a grammatical nightmare) escorted us to a grocery store. We were hoping for a bigger place we had heard rumor of, but this was nice. We stocked up on breakfast food to save money resolving that tomorrow we'd find this mega-mart.

Sunday night we went to the City Palace restaurant Shiv Niwas. Now, the City Palace is $350 a night, and the restaurant is proportionally expensive, but we went to watch my sitar teacher Suresh play flute and sitar, which he apparently gets handsomely paid for. We each had a drink and shared an entree, and Saresh did terrific. He called me over and asked me to play the sitar he was playing. Up to this point I was feeling reluctant to buy a sitar, but I played this particular sitar and loved it. I told him if I had the money and I could buy this sitar I would buy.

Brittany and I had heard rumor of a mega-market, complete with bar-code scanners and employees in uniforms and just had to go. The first mega-market we went to, was actually only a grocery store, which was nice as we stocked up on breakfast food. Unfortunately, this didn't satisfy our desire for the closest thing to Wal-Mart we could find, and so we invited all of the Soni kids to come with us to Vishal's Mega-Mart. After all the Soni family had done for us, it was nice to do something for them for a change. This took two autos. There were two girls, 17 year old cousins, and four boys who were each a year older than the other, the oldest being 16 who was actually a cousin of an older Soni brother that didn't live in their house.

Vishal's was a success. We didn't buy anything, but we went through each of the five floors looking at housewares, groceries, clothing, and toys. We then stopped for glass-bottled high-fructose-corn-syrup-free cokes at the mega-mart's outdoor fast food restaurant.

By this time the afternoon was simmering down and we discussed further plans. "The most important thing is that you have fun; where should be go now?" I asked. Most of the kids seemed to agree that Fateh Sageh Lake was the place to go. The girls, who were most sensitive to our budget, said that we would have to take autos there, but could easily and safely walk home from the lake. We took an autos there and got to the edge of the lake. It's a bit hard to describe, but it was more or less a road that sat slightly elevated to the shore of a lake. There was some sort of garden island in the middle we never made it to, but along the road there were plenty of restaurants and shops. We took the kids to a small street-food vendor, sat down and had masala dosas. Delicious.

A lot of things are close on Sunday and any shop that isn't is closed on Tuesday. We had become intense friends with the Soni family by that time, spending most of our days with them in their home. The Soni family consisted of two brothers, each of their wives, and their respective children. They all lived in a house connect to a long strip of building and across the street from their house was another portion of garages and rooms. You might have called the part we were staying in more of a commons. Two blue double doors opened to the public, with signs advertising heena and miniature art. You walk up the stairs to the side of the door and enter a small area with a glass case, bench, various plastic chairs, and a family of artists meticulously painting.

Kailash is the youngest of his siblings and because he spoke English so well, we grew close quickly. He was quick to invite us over, or if we were walking by ask us to come in for chai. Normally, whether we had eaten lunch or not, they provided a meal for us, which was no help to my attempts to lose weight. It might have been easier to deny food from them had it not been so delicious. Their wives, who had separate kitchens, always had food going. If it was late at night, Kailash would often provide beer, which he usually sold to me 10 rupees above cost. Merry making with Kailash was a great time.

Sometimes, if we requested ahead of time, and fronted the money for the meat, he would cook chicken or mutton for us. I'm not sure why, but most of the time we ate it in his bedroom. His kids were always coming and going and his wives would always stop and talk in what little English they spoke. We found the chicken and mutton delicious, but tenaciously spicy.

We had agreed on Monday, that Tuesday I would get my haircut and then we would go to the zoo. So, we came over mid-afternoon, only to find that the barber was closed. So, the boys showered and we walked to the zoo. We got all the way there to find it closed. We stopped for ice cream to make up for it, and on our way back saw a few Australians who hitched a ride on an elephant. After making sure the kids got home safely Brittany and I took an auto to the more metropolitan side of the city and ate at south Indian restaurant called Sankalp, which we loved.

The next morning Brittany and I went to our favorite lunch/breakfast place Cafe Edelweiss, grabbed a couple of tuna salad sandwiches and took them to a garden we had seen a few days ago. It was beautiful and well-maintained and we had a small picnic on a couple of rocks in the shade.

We then met up with the Soni family again and the boys escorted me to the barber where I got my haircut for a steep $1.50. It was actually just about the best haircut I've had. I suppose I should mention that during this whole time (the last few days) we had managed to complete our saree shopping and were having them tailored, just so you know. Once we were done with the haircut, we managed to get the same group together and venture once more to the zoo. There were four of us total and it cost $3 for all of us to get in. It was actually kind of a waste.

I really do think Indians put a lower value on life than the West. I know it's a generalization, but this wasn't the first or last time I had seen so little disregard for life. The zoo was supposed to have a crocodile, hyena, and wolf, but they had all died recently. On top of that the snake was missing. The zoo had tigers and lions who we could barely see through the bars of the dens they slept in, and most of the deer and bears were hard to see through the small fencing. The monkeys were the best show as the baboons neighbored the same kind of white monkeys with black faces Brittany and I had fed. They sporadically wared with one another, and pretty soon the baboons took interest in us. Had I wanted to reach through the fence and touch it, I could have, but it was pretty obvious it wouldn't end well if I did. Some of the boys did motion their hand towards the baboon as if to give it something and when they opened their hand to reveal nothing the baboon promptly turned around and waved its butt in the air. The sight was terribly crass, but all the more hilarious.

We moved on to find a leopard coming out of its cage. The excitement turned to horror and sadness when we realized the leopard was sick. It clumsily came out of the den, barely able to stand or move. As it paced in a circle, it seemed to be spiraling towards death and blood began to drip from its mouth. I don't know if you've ever seen a spotted leopard up close, but it's one of the most majestic creature I'd ever seen. Even in death, its beautiful coat of fur, powerful muscles, and captivating eyes were beautiful. It made it all the more horrifying to watch it die and know that no one cared. We left feeling pretty down. We, of course, couldn't tell the zoo keeper because we didn't speak Hindi, and convincing the boys with us (who were bilingual) was difficult. They didn't seem to understand that anyone should care. But we told the man at the door, and he said, as if making an excuse in the name of laziness, "oh that animal is just old". I knew it wasn't true. I knew that this leopard was succumbing to the same fateful neglect the hyena, wolf, and crocodile had. It was probably a matter of a proper diet, some sort of simple medicine, or even just easing the summer heat and all of those animals would probably still be alive. The fact was, no one cared, and that was what was most depressing of all.

After sorting some money matters I was able to get a sitar on Thursday. Brittany's sarees were done and looked great on her. Things seemed to be going well. We were quite worried about the riots in Jaipur. Jaipur was the place of the bombing, which was by Muslim radicals in opposition to India's support of American policies. The Gujjar riots were something entirely different. In short, the Gujjars are a low caste who wanted to be a lower caste in order to qualify for government jobs with caste affirmative action. They decided to riot and pulled up train tracks and blocked roadways. They attacked a police station, where police killed 22 to of them. It did little good as the Gujjars continued to protest up through to Agra. They had blocked our way to Delhi where we were scheduled to fly out. Our bus ticket was canceled and we ended up paying almost three times as much for train tickets that took us an alternate route to Delhi a day earlier than planned.

We had to cram our shopping into Friday and managed to get almost all of it done. We bought a chai set for each of the Soni families and a table for them to use in their commons. We had a fish fry, had a long goodbye of hugs. Brittany and I left upset for so many reasons. We had to leave earlier than we thought, we had a long day of travel ahead, and our time with was cut short.


The next day we woke up and took the train to Ajmer. Ajmer was kind of depressing. We were stressed from travelling, in a strange city, and starving. There was no good food to be had. Most of it didn't look safe or filling. While I was hunting down food Brittany witnessed a mother punching her few-month-old baby in the face just because it had wet itself. Who would have though a baby that can't even walk would wet itself?

We just waiting an hour in the train station until our train came and we hopped it and it took us to Delhi. We shared the train with a slightly annoying, but helpful young Indian. By the time we got to Delhi we were so tired we were nauseated. Furthermore, we were passing by slums on the train tracks, which was a little disturbing, even after all the poverty we had seen all along.

I've said it before, the first night in the city is always the hardest. Brittany and I each had a hefty backpack, she carried our carry-on duffel bag and I had my massive sitar case to tote. We exited the station without a plan and almost no money. We figured we'd just go to the airport and sleep inside. Let me explain (it's a bit complicated). Our plane flew out June 3rd at 12:50AM. This means that out flight left Tuesday morning, but we needed to be at the airport by Tuesday night. Our bus tickets had been perfect. We would have left on the first, gone over night until the 2nd and gotten to Delhi sometime Tuesday afternoon and flown out that night. This was totally different. We had taken an all day train on Saturday and had arrived at the airport that night.

That's right, we got to the airport two and a half days early, and for some reason we didn't realize it. In our heads, we'd sleep at the airport and catch our flight the next day. So, we got to the airport only to find out we couldn't even go inside until 3 hours before our flight, but we were so tired and broke we just slept outside the airport. We weren't the only ones. There was a large tiled area, and even though it was open air it did have a roof. Inside the actual building was a small waiting room with AC you could enter within 8 hours of your flight.

We slept outside, and besides the mosquitoes and flies we were so exhausted we rested easy. The next morning I woke up and called my dad who was like "Um, your flight doesn't leave until tomorrow night". This shocked me, we had the entire day of Monday and Tuesday to kill.

Brittany and I sat talking about what to do and I watched a huge red bus pull under the airport pavilion across the road from us. Within a few minutes a crowd, news crews, and an ambulance were on the scene. Airport employees came out with buckets of water and were squeegeeing it from the bus to our side of the street where the drains were. We watched as they used the squeegee to push the water to us and then we realized the water was red. "Is that blood?" Brittany asked. I thought that it surely wasn't, that we would have seen something, and the workers so casually cleaned it. I went over to the scene and sure enough a couple of people might have died.

We were pretty disturbed by this and found out later that three young tourist were getting their bags out of the back of a bus when another bus pulled in and hit them. Two were killed and the other was in critical condition last we heard. Reflecting on the scene and how it must have unfolded, it's nothing but pure negligence and recklessness on part of the bus driver who was deservingly arrested.

I reluctantly withdrew some money from the ATM and we made our way into town with all of our stuff. We had a taxi drop us off at a cinema, which was in an upscale shopping center with several restaurants to chose from. We watched Indian Jones and Prince Caspian. There was a small stand where, for a dollar a bag, they would watch our stuff for three hours. We had McDonald's for lunch and Subway for dinner, which both really hit the spot.

After the movies we decided to do a little grocery shopping for our day outside the airport tomorrow. I have to say that God really provided for us at this point, and it's hard to explain, but if you had been there you'd know what I mean. After some shopping I checked my e-mail at an internet cafe and my dad had offered to put us up at a hotel. We were really grateful and asked some random Indians if they knew of any good hotels in the area. They spoke decent enough English, but unfortunately couldn't give directions to save their life.

With all of our stuff in hand we probably walked 2 miles before we gave up. We agreed to grab and auto back towards the airport and if we saw a hotel along the way we'd have him stop. We were so exhausted that we agreed to the steep price of 200 rupees ($5USD). There were no hotels along the way. It was incredibly asinine that we would go all over Delhi and not see a hotel. We arrived at the airport and before I even gave him the money the rickshaw driver insisted on 300 rupees. Brittany and I had both made it clear that Rs200 was the price, even using our fingers to notate numbers. He repeated back, "Yes, 200", and now he insisted on 300, but I was too tired to argue. I just walked off and left him with the 200 and told him that I don't know how he can do pooja in the morning.

We slept outside again Monday night and woke up early the next morning. The day went by slow and we had stooped to new lows creating a card deck out of our own paper. It was peanut butter and banana sandwiches for breakfast and lunch. There was a shower in the well-maintained public bathroom, which we did use. We passed the time with Dave Sedaris and naps. By 4:50pm we were allowed in the AC room, where were finaly allowed to sit in a chair and drink purified water from a fountain (as opposed to the expensive bottled water sold outside the airport).

There was an older Indian couple in front of us who made friends with us. The man, Sandi, gave us his book Code Blue 99, which is about his near death experience where he allegedly met God. I'm not sure what to make of it, yet, but it is interesting. The wife, Janet, gave us the most delicious mango I've ever had. Their flight was earlier than ours. He was good enough to change some of my American currency (dollar coins that the currency exchange places wouldn't trade) for rupees, which was enough for dinner. Brittany and I each showered and then had a bit to eat. The restaurant was a dim, but clean bar with delicious chicken friend chicken and fish and chips.

After dinner, it was time to check our bags. We made it through the airport, spent the last of our money on a midnight snack of Subway, and eventually we were able to get onto our plane. In all honest, this was uneventful enough that the brevity of my account might make it seem like it was fairly simple, but I assure you the wait alone was tedious. We were exhausted from traveling with little real sleep and nothing to look forward to but more travel. We did finally get on the plane and slept for most of the flight.

Amsterdam wasn't as bad the second time around. We easily found our connection, but had a five hour lay over. I soon discovered a McDonald's and as I hadn't had beef in over a month Brittany and I each got a Big Mac. Delicious.

We laid around the airport a few more hours and eventually got on the plane. It seems miraculous how on-time everything really was. I watched Vantage Point, a couple of episodes of 30 Rock, and a couple of episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Afterwards I took a dramamine and slept most of the rest of the flight.

Landing in America wasn't as climatic as I had hoped. By the time you navigate through the passport check, pickup your baggage, get through customs, have your baggage rechecked, have your carry-on scanned, and go to re-pickup your baggage the idea of being back in America loses its charm as you want nothing more than to get the heck out of the airport. But we came out of the carry-on check to see my family. Not just my dad and his wife Rebecca, but my Grandma and Aunt Carrie as well. They took us to the Cheesecake Factory where Brittany, Grandma, and I all split three different dishes.

After gift giving and story telling it was time to go home. The drive to Chattanooga wasn't that bad as we were already in north Atlanta. We got home about 7:15 to Kristina (who was watching our house and is now staying with us for the summer) and Kashmir (our cat).

Well if you think that's a lot to read, it's also a lot to type. This time I'm on my own computer and have the time and resources to proofread, and I know this needs it badly, but I simply am worn out from this. Maybe later I'll go back and do some serious revision to everything.

If you've read this far, good for you, I'll post more Facebook pictures in the next couple of days. I actually have a project I want to work on where I sort out the best pictures, enhance the color and lighting with photoshop and make proper Facebook albums out of them, but that will take time.

I also hope to post a debriefing in the next couple of days. I got a lot of out this trip I think I finally found a way to put into words.

Back in the USA

I'm back, but there's so much to go over. Too tired to make a legit post.

Safe

I've safely made it to Delhi from Udaipur and our flight leaves tomorrow night. There's so much to post about like the Soni family, changes in travel plans, buying a sitar, a trip to a very sad zoo, women abusing their children in train stations, pretending to be a hobo...ok not pretending...at the Delhi international airport, a bus wreck (not involving us) at the airport, movies in India, being blessed in the names of pagan gods, running out of money, and I'm sure there's stuff I'm forgetting. But I can't go into detail right now. It's not that time is short, it's just that this isn't a good time to be sitting around blogging.

All I can say is, I'm going to miss India, and I've loved it here, but right now I can't wait to get home. I miss everyone, my church, certain foods, and other stuff. Just know we are safe in Delhi and it looks like everything is going according to plan, but it doesn't mean you need to pray any less.

Riots

Apparently India hasn't heard of rubber bullets and tear gas. There was some degree of anxiety regarding caste-related riots in Jaipur, as city trains and buses must go through the riots to get to Delhi, but things seemed to calm down and the bus-ways opened. So, we bought tickets, and the next day the same riot moved to Delhi where our plane flies, which blocked our bus route. There are options for getting to Delhi, but they aren't fun. Right now the talk is leaving first thing in the morning and taking a longer train around the riots which will be pretty expensive over all. They are attempting to "bring the country to a standstill", something I hope happens after we leave. If all else fails we'll have to take a plane flight on our parents' dollar and pay them back over time.

In other news, life has been good in Udaipur. I did buy a sitar, here's hoping it makes it back to the states. Brittany had sarees made and they look great. I don't have much more time for an update.

I'll Take Jesus for Six Million, Alex

Culture shock takes on many aspects. Denial, home-sickness, disgust, or awe. I confess, when I first landed in Delhi I really wondered what I was in for as the sour smell of pollution assaulted me. And that's really what India does, it assaults you in every way possible. The Lonely Planet guide book, the bible of India travel, depicts a vivid culture full of color and wonder. I walked out of the airport to see the smog and dirt against the sepia tones of dim street lights.

Culture shock set in, but it was more a sense of wonder more than disgust. It could have been denial, I don't know; what I did know before I ever stepped foot on a plane was that nothing can prepare you for India. So, when I left the airport and got into my first Indian taxi I was immediately taken in by how the adventurous the average car ride really was. I didn't know it was so polluted, trashed, and unorganized. I mean, I kind of knew that things would be unorganized, but I had no idea that things were unorganized right down to a lack of traffic signals. I didn't know it would smell bad, I had envisioned a land of incense. I imagined bright and vivid colors everywhere, and they are, but they are also supplemented by the dirty streets. I also never imagined curry would get old and I would long for a good burger.

A couple of nights ago, Brittany and I made a list of everything we missed. Of course, we miss friends like Chris, Rebecca, Stephanie, Suzie, Kristina, and friends from work. Of course, we miss family. We rarely see our family anyway, but being half way around the world will make you miss your family. We miss our cat. Then there are the western commodities like clean bathrooms with toilet-paper, being able to drink tap water, central air conditioning, clean and organized streets where more signs maintain safer control and blinkers indicate a lane change, less noise, a more sensitive culture, working internet, and the list goes on. Then we miss certain food and drink. You know you can't just buy peanut butter here? We miss cheesecake, burgers, alfredo, a proper gin and tonic (with clean ice and real lime), steak, etc.

Then there are things I will miss about India. Today, I walked less than a kilometer from my hotel and came back with two mangoes, three bananas, two portions of curd (yogurt), and three bottled waters. Grand total? Less than $2 all together. We bought corn flakes, raisins, and almonds the other day. Mix them altogether and you get a great breakfast the Indians call museli (spelled several ways). Delicious. I'll miss the incredibly low fruit and vegetable prices, the ease of public transportation, mom and pop shops, cheap Indian food on every corner, the way everything has an art to it, the vivid colors in the traditional clothing, and meeting so many new people all of the time. I'll miss being able to walk everywhere, petting cows (which I do in secret, as not to offend locals), the prevalence of chai, and even the heat. There's something to be said for spending a long day in the sun and heat, walking everywhere you go. It changes a person on so many levels. There is, of course, the physical aspect of being in shape and weight loss. But exercise is good for you in that it helps you sleep better. Being out in the sun is also healthy, and a lot of research shows it's not just about getting vitamin E but the sun also helps reduce depression. And the heat? It's nice to have a safe-haven where I can use AC at will, but the heat is nice in that curbs my appetite some.

Brittany and I have been reading the book Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris, a humor writer. He talks about being in France and the way everyone talks bad about America as if Sedaris embodied America. They might be at the table talking about America and instead of saying "America's latest policy is horrible" they would look at Sedaris apprehensively and say "Your latest policy is horrible". The same goes here. At the beginning of this month George Bush partially blamed the food shortage on the large populations of Indians and Chinese. While, person for person, Americans consume more food, the sheer numbers in India and China mean they have a higher food consumption. So, in a sense Bush was right, and on the other hand, I'm not sure how Bush expected India and China to take it. And when people ask how America is doing, as if the country is a good friend of mine, I always say "The economy isn't doing so well, but things are going as well as they might." and they usually say "Yes, but it's because you keep blaming your problems on everyone else. You say we are eating all the food, but you eat so much."

I know it is cliché, but to be honest, both countries could learn a great deal from each other. It's so easy to point the finger at another country, but just being in India I recognize that America isn't so innocent as we think. I know a great deal of Americans, myself included recognize many problems with the government and certain groups of people, but that wasn't fully realized for me until I took a step back. It's pretty annoying, actually, to hear people complain about America here. India accuses America of being wasteful, yet they discard trash just about anywhere that's convenient, only for their holy cows to come and eat. I'm not veterinarian, but I imagine plastic bags are not the best thing for a cow's diet.

India is not a country where the corporations have taken over so much. There is no Wal-Mart. Because India is still "developing" there's actually not such a shortage on jobs. The problem is two-fold. First, the caste system prevents the expansion of jobs. Second, a lot of the poverty is induced. Parents cut the limbs off of their children, so their children have a better chance of getting sympathy when they beg. If I give five rupees to a child, who knows where it will go, but I seriously doubt it is his or hers to keep. Husbands who are dissatisfied with their wives will stage a kitchen fire. Sometimes the women survive, but no only really cares; she must have had it coming.

The unassertive culture is depressing at times. Service goes right up to the mandate, and after that you're on your own. If you go into a store with an elevator, they would rather you wait five minutes for the elevator than waste energy running up stairs. Yet, when it comes time to get change, if the cashier doesn't have it, it's not unusual for them to refuse to get change from their neighbor. It is your problem, not theirs.

India is best taken by rolling with the punches. We must realize that much of what we see in the culture of India is based within a system that was developed long before Western society invaded. Then we have to realize that much of what we see in this society is a reaction to the invasion of Western society. Rajasthan was once feudal, which I believe is the direct conclusion of the caste system. It eventually united, and now each town has a palace and/or fort of some sort in which a maharajah still lives today. They mostly serve as philanthropists. Women put eye-liner on their small children, boy or girl, to keep demons out.

If there's one thing I've come to realize, it's that everything I've learned about evangelism is useless. Most of you know I don't believe in conventional door-to-door or street evangelism as effective. But I always gave organizations like Evangelism Explosion the benefit of the doubt, figuring that it would surely be effective in a third-world country. But I'd love to see how those methods are effective. In a country where a polytheistic religion is a way of life, tradition, and religion all at the same time how to do you tell someone they need your god instead of their own?

Am I suggesting the India can't be "saved"? Of course not. God opens doors through crude methods and even bad theology. And Christianity is ever growing in India. I'm not sure it is through running up to Hindus and telling them to drop their six million gods for Jesus, because Indians are so different from Americans in their reaction to such evangelism. It will take Christians in India showing the love of Jesus in a place where gods crumble physically and spiritually. Showing the love of Jesus in a place that has a broken and prejudice system. It will start slow, but to attempt to speed it up can do more harm than good.

Looks like we'll be taking a bus to Delhi as train is not an option and planes are expensive. Please keep us in prayer as the buses may be safe one day and unsafe the next. If they are unsafe, we will be fine, but our bus will be cancelled and we long for home and I'd hate to miss our flight.

Another Adventurous Day in Udaipur

First this article just came to our attention and may ruin plans to get to Delhi and fly out. Riots are usually short, but the damage may be long term. If they end soon enough we can simply take a bus, which is really undesirable and possibly dangerous. If worse comes to worse I think we can fly, but that's expensive.

I guess it has been a while since I've made a real post, but the story goes back to Thursday. Thursday is when the saree (also spelled "sari") shopping began. Sarees are traditional Indian wear that ranges from everyday use to wedding use. Some are the equivalent of a cheap beach dress, while others the equivalent to a wedding dress. Traditionally, the only other thing a woman might wear is a salwar kamese (Brittany has a few we had tailored) which is a long shirt, baggy pants, and a dupata (long piece of decorative cloth worn around the neck). There was one shop that was recommended that had a couple of used sarees we liked (when buying used you must be meticulous, but used can be better as the silk is already broken in). We wanted to gauge prices so we hired an auto driver to take us to a really nice saree shop. Of course, most places will give an auto driver a commission, so we knew better than to buy. On the way we picked out another saree place close to the one he took us to. He dropped us off and we went inside. We kept giving them a price range and they kept showing us stuff that was double the price-range, so we simply left. We checked out the place across the street and our former auto driver yelled at me from across the street. I took a close look just to make sure, and yes, he was giving me the bird. I admit, I might have had a better reaction, but without thinking I gave him the best middle finger and the most sarcastic look I could muster. I know it was terrible and that's a dirty sign, and giving it back doesn't really solve anything. I followed my gut reaction without thinking. While it wasn't a good or right thing to do, it was kind of comical in some way.

He rushed across the street, dodging oncoming motorcycles and cars and I found very quickly the perfect middle finger I was so proud of hadn't phased him and he was upset we hadn't bought from the shop. He shouldn't have known. For all he knew we were having them tailored and sent to our door, which is very common. He knew because he went back for his commission. It's kind of the most threatened I've felt since I've been in India. The man looked demon possessed, I don't think he was, I mean, I think he was just cracked out on drugs. I simply told the guy that if he didn't get away from Brittany and I, that I would either report him or get violent. So, he got in his auto rickshaw and came to us and then asked us if he could take us some other place, but we ignored him and he left for good.

The next day we woke up early, after all, our hotel is directly across from the Jagdesh temple and Vishnu demands a half hour of incessant and obnoxious bell ringing at six in the morning. It's like having a hangover, only we didn't drink the night before. Once up and going, Brittany went to the internet cafe to add more pictures and I went for my sitar lesson.

Saresh is a good teacher, and very patient with me. Sitar is actually really hard, much harder than any other instrument I've tried to play (perhaps with the exception of violin). It's not really like you imagine it. First thing is you only play the bottom string with your left hand. Like, you strum all of the strings, but the only string you actually fret is the bottom string. Then you are only supposed to use your index and middle finger to fret. You would think this instrument would be far easier than guitar, maybe it is once you get used to it , but the instrument itself is a bit clumsy to hold. It's not only difficult to hold, but pretty much any way you sit with it your legs or backside is uncomfortable; in fact, the proper classical position is like yoga. If you're used to the fret positions of a guitar, you'll quickly find that it doesn't work the same, as the next fret may or may not be a semi-tone difference. The playability is stiff and it's like trying to play a guitar with incredibly high action with an incredibly high-gauge unwound string. Of course, maybe like 2 people will actually understand what I'm talking about. Basically it's hard to hold and it hurts to play. Like guitar, I'm sure you get used to it and with practice it comes more natural.

In all honesty, I'm not head-over-heels for the instrument. It sounds pretty cool and it's really novel, and I'm a fast learner on it, but it doesn't really hold my attention. After a lesson I'm more or less disenchanted with it and don't really feel like picking it up. On one hand, I feel like I only wanted a sitar for the novelty, like the "I have one and you don't" thing or that I'd buy one just because I'm afraid I'll regret not getting one, and on the other hand, it really would be cool to have. It has unique sounds, that I like, and it could really be fun to write music on it. So far, I've only played one sitar I like the sound and feel of enough to drop money on it and it comes out to Rs9500, which is roughly $240USD. Musicians will say that's a good price and everyone else will find it expensive. I did poke around online and I found that buying a sitar in the United States usually starts at $400 for a beginner model (I confess I didn't do much research, so you may find better) and for a middle-of-the-line professional-level like the one I like it's at least $600.

I guess it really depends on money, as the $600 the government owed us is no longer an issue, but I did some math and if I want any money left when I get home I would do well to not use most of it. Then again, if certain things cost less than expected I'll be able to get one, otherwise it will be a non-issue and I won't have the money. I admit, in a sense it isn't disappointing, like there's this optimism of "Oh, more money when I get back home, so I don't have to eat ramen and work extra hard." On the other hand, there's a fear that I will regret it, especially since I like this one sitar. We'll see.

After sitar lessons, Saresh invited us to his house. We took an auto there and spent the morning meeting his family. Then, it was time to head back, but there was no auto so he took us on his motorcycle. This wasn't a big Harley. No, the three of us packed on for the ride of our lives. Brittany and I got off with the adrenaline still pumping.

Then we went to a couple of saree places. We ended up at a small shop where the owner was nice. They throw down a ton of sarees and you pick out what you like and what you don't. Traditionally you kind of narrow it down after that. Things were going well until a young man, about our age, came down and started pushing us. We would say we don't like a saree and he would say "Oh, but this is beautiful and very fine" and sometimes we said "It's ok, set it to the side and we'll decide in a little bit", and when all was said and done we had about 20 sarees picked out we liked. When we started to sort them out they acted shocked and claimed that most Americans buy 20 to 30 sarees and we simply said we don't have the money to buy everything we like. The young man literally scoffed at us and said all Americans are rich.

I'm not saying America is worse off than India, after all people who own TVs are still below the "poverty line", but I will say that even in the poorest parts of Udaipur at ten o'clock at night Brittany and I have felt more or less completely safe, but if I were in a slum in America I would probably be smart to fear for my life. Yes, Brittany and I, in many ways, are poor. Just like anyone, we struggle to make ends meet, and though we've been blessed with many amenities and are grateful for those, we by no means live in luxury. In India, we aren't so poor. I got a leather bound photo album for $7.50. Brittany and I have eaten a gourmet meal, as good or better than your favorite fine-dining restaurant, for literally less than $40 allowing for one drink for each of us. We stayed six nights in the honeymoon suite of an air conditioned hotel with the best view in this city for $100 total. But that doesn't mean I can fork out $200+ for a bunch of sarees I have to turn around and have tailored. I simply refuse to believe every American who buys a saree goes to a little shop, buys 20, and has them tailored. It's not only expensive, but stupid and unnecessary.

So, we narrowed it down to three. Two were chiffon, a see-through fabric that can be nice, but is also good for everyday use and then one silk-blend that was pretty cool. All in all, it cost Rs1100, which we later found was about Rs400 too much. You live and you learn. The chiffon ones were Rs300 and should have been Rs150 at the most, and I figured Rs300 was reasonable as I couldn't imagine getting 5 1/2 meters of fabric for less than that.

Oh well, we went on and looked at some more sarees. One our way to one shop we found a man feeding monkeys and he let us feed them as well. It was quite fun, and interesting. There are pictures on Facebook.

Yesterday we got the stuff together for the sarees. You have to buy fabric for the blouse and petticoat which goes under the saree. Then we went and bought one of the used sarees from the first shop. So, we got all that and with the help of the Soni family, we took it to the tailor. We then found the nicer of the three we bought was too small, so we tried to exchange it only to find every saree they had in the shop was a half-meter smaller than a traditional saree. We had asked them if this saree was 6 1/2 meters (as this particular type was supposed to be) and they said yes, but now that it was only 6 meters they claimed it was normal.

Well it got ugly, and long story short they found one that was more expensive that was the right length. There was more yelling and stuff, but eventually they offered an even trade. We then found that the saree we traded really was worth more and they weren't trying to rip us off. We felt kind of bad for all of the harsh words, and plan on paying them the fair price. They are corrupt people, but being right isn't always as important as doing right.

We just finished Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller and I recommend to just about anyone, Christian or non-Christian. Well, time is running out, but there's more to say. I'll catch you later, in the mean time there are now six India albums on Facebook for your viewing pleasure. Just go a post or two back for the links.