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REPORTS by Danielle J. Van Dobben

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Three months in Kerala, India

Date: Sat, 15 May 1999

I am going to India with a program through the University of Wisconsin-Madison this summer for three months. I will study Mohiniyattam, Kerala's indigenous form of female classical dance, and Bharata Natyam. I hope to study some Kathakali, as well. We will stay at a university for the arts in Trivandrum, Kerala. I do not know the name of the university yet. I do not have any experience with Indian classical dance at all. So I'm a little nervous! But most of the students going are beginners like me. I have taken other ethnic dance forms, such as Middle Eastern, West African, and Flamenco. I have seen several videos of Bharata Natyam and I love it, so I hope to continue my studies in Indian dance when I return to the U.S.

Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1999

Much has happened since I wrote last. I finally got to the ocean. We went to Kovolum Beach a few weekends ago. I am told that it is usually full of tourists, but the beaches were empty since it's the rainy season and we had the place to ourselves. It actually hasn't rained in over a week and I am surprised to find myself wishing it would because it is too damn hot!

A couple of weekends ago, we went to the Kerala backwaters at Kollam. For $2 each, we rented a tourist boat all day. It was fabulous. We have attended several performances as well: Kathakali, Bharatanatyam and Mohiniyattam, and a Children's Theatre. This coming week there is an annual Music and Dance Festival here, so we will attend performances every night for nine days.

We took a "field trip" last weekend to Padmanabhapuran Palace and Cape Kanyakumari. The palace was quite impressive. The highlight was Kanyakumari, though. We stood on the southern-most tip of India and watched the sun set over the Arabian Sea and the full moon rise over the Indian Ocean. It was absolutely incredible. I thought of all of you affectionately and wished we were sharing the experience together. We have other trips planned for future weekends and I am in the process of planning my last two weeks of traveling in August. Any suggestions? I want to stay in southern India to make things simpl(er). I have grown accustomed to the food, although I still can't stomach the spicy breakfasts. I stick to bananas and biscuits! I am improving in dance and drumming and enjoying it more and more all the time. My Bharatanatyam guru is more like a second mother than just a teacher. She takes us out to eat, shopping, etc. She is a wonderful woman. My drum teacher speaks very little English and is intent upon teaching us Malayalam. He is quite a character. Our final performance is August 1st and it will be taped so you can all see it.

Date: Sat, 10 Jul 1999

India is full of constant surprises and lessons. I can't tell you how much it means to me to know that your thoughts and love are with me. It is a comfort in my times of loneliness. (Don't worry-- those times are rare.) There is a stigma attached to American women here that is sometimes difficult to overcome. Indian men assume that we are easy. The women here dress and behave very modestly. They only leave their houses to go to school or a job (if they work). They never go anywhere alone and they always return home before dark. Those of us who are here with the program dress in traditional Indian clothes to try and blend in, but it doesn't really work. Sometimes we miss our blue jeans, but not enough to suffer the stares and whispers as we walk down the streets. There are many customs that are difficult to get accustomed to besides the dress. Women do not talk loudly or laugh aloud. Although Trivandrum is a large city, it still maintains traditional values and, I've been told, is not as modern as Bombay or Bangalore. We all handle the situation differently. Some of the women on the trip choose to conform their behavior. Others are rebelling and trying to break every social rule they can. I am somewhere in between. Although I refuse to speak softly or avoid laughing out loud, I am willing to dress more modestly and watch my behavior around men. For safety reasons, I don't want any of the men here to get the wrong idea. I also want to be respectful of the people and the culture. Some days I feel overwhelmed and just want to relax and be myself. Those days I go to Hotel Lucia or Kovalum Beach where the tourists are expected to behave like heathens! :)

I do not mean to make the people sound oppressive or horrible. They are a very friendly people. They don't just give directions, they take us there. They smile as we pass. The women stare and giggle at us, but somehow it is not rude. They are simply interested in us like we are in them. I am in love with the children here. They wave at us and shout whatever they know in English: "Hello! What is your name? Where are you going?" They chase us when we drive by in an auto rickshaw shouting and laughing. This last month was a time of adjustment for me. I feel like I am here on vacation because it is summer time and I am travelling. At the same time, I am here to study. It is a difficult balance to find, but I am starting to get the hang of it. I spend the week in classes (Mon.-Sat.) and the evenings are dedicated to reading, practicing, and studying. On Sundays, I let myself relax and I go to the beach and wear my blue jeans. I was spending too many of my evenings out and I was not getting as much from my classes as I could be, so now I try to spend more time on my studies.

I still get lonely sometimes. I am so lucky to be surrounded by several wonderful people. I have quickly become close friends with two other students, Michael and Elizabeth. My roommate Laura is having a hard time adjusting, so she complains all the time. She is sick a lot, and I suspect that has something to do with her attitude. So, I made a bad roommate choice. But it's not a big deal and we get along quite well most of the time.

My music keeps me happy and in good spirits, so I have made a habit of spending a little time each day with my Walkman. A couple of you gave me good books to bring to India, and I have already read them. Now I don't have a good excuse to keep avoiding the textbook! I have found that coming to the Internet Cafe and communicating with you through e-mail also reduces my loneliness because I need that connection to the people I love. So this has become a weekly habit! Everything takes twice as long here (especially the computers) so I am getting a good lesson in patience. Saramila, as they say here. "No worries." Last night I went to an Odissi performance (a North Indian dance style from Orissa). I fell in love with it! I have been told that Bharata Natyam, because it is so structured, is a good base for learning other Indian dance forms. I would love to study Odissi someday. I am told by Diana ( another student here), who just earned her master's from UCLA in Film Directing, that it is easy to find Indian dance classes in L.A. I hope to continue my studies in Bharata Natyam when I move there in the spring.

I recently met a Muslim woman who does mendhi (henna tattooing). She did it on the palms of my hands and it is beautiful! Most people use stencils, but she did it spontaneously. It will last about one week. It makes me feel glamorous.

I try to avoid thinking about all the changes I will face when I return to Arizona so that I can concentrate on the present. I have never been very good about that, though. As you all know, I'm better at worrying about the future. I am graduating college (can you believe it?!) when I return.

My classes are going well. We are learning in two months what most students learn in two years. So, needless to say, we are a little stressed! But I enjoy feeling like I accomplish so much every day. And I will return to the U.S. with some new skills! Pretty neat. We're going on a 3-day trip to Cochin this Sunday through Tuesday. We've been invited to a Disco on Wednesday night that some local kids are putting on. Time is flying. Don't forget to give me your addresses so I can send postcards. And this is your last chance to request specific gifts! I will see you all so soon.

Date: Sat, 10 Jul 1999

Subject: More from India

I have today off, and it's the first Saturday I've had free so I thought I would write a long e-mail letter since I have the time. I will be traveling on our field trip next week, so I won't write again for two weeks. I tried to send a group e-mail last Wednesday, but I got disconnected. So you are getting two e-mails today. I usually rush through these letters due to lack of time and I realize that I haven't given you much of an idea about life here in India. So I will try now. Modernity is creeping into every corner of India. Some cities invite it with open arms, but Trivandrum is fighting it. Religious traditions and values still prevail here. However, they are not based on just one religion. Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Jews and Buddhists have lived peacefully side by side in Kerala for generations. On the same street, one may pass a cathedral, a temple, and a mosque. Some indigenous folk traditions and beliefs are still maintained in many of the villages, as well. Our cook Thankamma ("Golden Mother") is not from the city, and whenever one of us is sick she pulls us into the kitchen and won't allow us to speak. She circles our heads with a fistful of herbs and salt several times. Then we have to spit three times into the concoction.

We wash our clothes by hand here. Only the wealthy families own washing machines. Everyone has a television, however, and that seems to be the first (or only) appliance people buy.

Commercialism has made it's way into India, no doubt with the help of TV. Malls and shopping centers tower above the small local street shops. We went to a popular clothing store last week. Two men in uniforms opened glass doors and as we entered the store, clerks hurried onto raised, stage-like platforms covered in white sheets and they turned on bright florescent lights. Shelves of folded sarees lined every wall. The women began throwing the sarees open like sheets and spreading them in layers on the stages. Blues, reds, golds, purples flashing and snapping open like fireworks, and then floating slowly to the ground like sparks fading against the sky. We quickly learned not to point or stare too long at one saree or another because the women would rush over and wrap the cloth around us, holding an edge up to our cheeks and saying, "Good color. Good price. Good Kerala quality. You want? Perfect fit. You want, madame?" It is impossible not to get caught up in the whole show. I bought a rust- orange and green saree to have my Bharata Natyam costume made out of. My guru, Midhali, told me that rust was the color of her first costume and it is a good sign that I chose that color for mine. It means I will be lucky in my dance career and will dance well whenever I wear it. I also have to wear way too much gold jewelry. I wonder what that is a sign of. Maybe I will have a dance career full of tacky costumes. That might be fun. :)

I love the relationship I have with my guru. We call her Midhali outside of the classroom and she is like a protective, caring mother. But inside the classroom (which is really her living room), we call her "teacher." We never sit above her--she sits in a chair and we sit on the floor. We begin every class by touching her feet. The very first class we had with her, we went before a Siva and Saraswati shrine and dedicated ourselves to our study of Indian dance with the guidance of Siva, the Cosmic Dancer, Saraswati, the Goddess of Art and Learning, and Midhali, our guru and our connection to the gods. Students here respect their teachers like their own parents. Teachers are giving us a gift of knowledge. They are passing on their life's learning and skill to us. It is an honor to be invited into the care of a guru. I went to five dance performances last week. Indian classical dance is so rich. The basic technique is very similar, but style changes from state to state.

For example, Kathak is recognized by the quick and numerous turns and the improvisational footwork. But it still depicts stories from the epics and uses facial expressions and mudras (hand gestures) to tell the story, just like most other Indian classical dance forms. I have noticed consistencies between Kathak and Flamenco and I am excited to find out if there is any connection between the two. I want to write my thesis on the evolution of dance among the gypsies as they traveled from Northern India through the Middle East and into Europe. Might be too much for one lifetime. We'll see.

At the Kuchipudi dance performance, two men came onto the stage holding a large, white screen tightly on both sides. They held it stretched just above the ground where purple powder covered the floor. The dancer came on stage and danced on the screen to a 16-count rhythm in a pattern, making the screen touch the powdered floor only where she stepped. She traced lines with her toes, shimmied in small circles on her heels, hopped from one foot to the other. When she left the stage, the men held up the screen to reveal a purple peacock that she had painted with her dance. It was amazing!

The people here are very community oriented. They are willing to depend on each other. Although they have a word for "thank you," they rarely use it except for special occasions. In the U.S., we assume that our responsibility towards someone is fulfilled when we say "thank you." Here, it is assumed that the favor will be returned some day. The locks on doors are only one way. The door can be bolted from inside. That is because they assume someone will always be home to open the door. That would drive us nuts in the U.S. because we hate when other people are in control of the situation and we are powerless without them. In dance class, there are no mirrors. I cannot correct myself by looking in the mirror, like I am used to. In fact, I have no idea what I look like when I dance Bharata Natyam. I have to trust my guru to correct me and make me look good. There is not a sense of private space here, either. The neighbors come over whenever they like, and sometimes they just walk into the house. The emphasis here is on the community rather than the individual -- the well-being of the people as a whole is more important than the well-being of just one person. Something to think about.

There are very few options when we want to go out for the evening around here, so if we're not at a play or a music concert or a dance performance, sometimes we go to the movies. They are shown on enormous screens and played in surround sound. People laugh and cheer out loud for their favorite actor or actress. For fun, we went to a Malayali film about auto rickshaw drivers called "Auto Brothers." The drivers broke out into song and dance periodically throughout the movie (as movie stars tend to do in Indian movies), and we were practically rolling on the floor laughing! The ironic thing is, auto rickshaw drivers are always in a terrible mood. They drive like maniacs, refusing to stop for old ladies, dogs, children, and especially Americans. They haggle with us about price, always assume we are either going to Kovalum Beach or Hotel Lucia, and never listen to directions. The last thing I can imagine them doing is singing and dancing! :) We saw The Matrix last night, which is really fun to see on a huge screen with surround sound. We all cheered during the action scenes and laughed at Keanu Reeves' cheesy lines. And we tried really hard to just ignore the rats scuttling around our feet (but I won't get into that).

I was really proud of the fact that I was the only one on this trip who hadn't gotten sick. But now I have a cold. That's what I get for being haughty. It's nothing big, though.

We found a Baskin Robbins! We go there when we want to pretend we are in America for a little while. We also go to Ambrosia, an American restaurant with hamburgers and pizza and milkshakes. Mmmm, yum. We're spoiled in the U.S. with all the variety. Here, they eat basically the same meal every day for lunch. Dinner and breakfast are always one of three things. So on the weekends, we hit the restaurants!

Date: Fri, 16 Jul 1999

I can't believe I will be home in just one month! Time is strange here. It passes too quickly in the mornings and evenings, but very slowly in the afternoons, perhaps because of the heat. Sometimes I feel like a month is not enough time because two weeks of that will be spent travelling and I wish I could see everything. Other times I don't know how I will make it through another month without all of you! L I have to admit I am also dying for some really good pasta and a hot shower! J

Elizabeth and Mike and I recently planned our last two weeks together. We will begin in Madurai, in southern Tamil Nadu, where we will see the famous Sri Meenakshi Temple. Mike will go on to Madras by himself to stay at an ashram for a few days, while Elizabeth and I continue through Tamil Nadu. First, we will go to Chidambaram, which I am particularly excited about. Hindus believe Chidambaram is the center of the universe. The Siva Nataraja temple is there, dedicated to Siva as the cosmic Dancer. It is believed that Siva performs his dance of creation and destruction there. Next, we will take a train to Mamallapuram, a shore temple with scenes carved into the side of cliffs along the beach. From there, we will reach Madras, the capital of Tami Nadu, where a popular school of dance draws my interest. Mike will meet up with us there, and we will all go to Bangalore. There are many museums, zoos, temples, gardens, outdoor markets, shops, etc. to see in and around Bangalore, so we will stay there for four days. Then we will take a bus to Bandipur National Park in southern Karnataka where we will ride elephants through a sanctuary of bison, spotted deer, sloth bears and monkeys. We may even see a tiger, if we are...lucky? :} We saved the best part of the trip for last. We will take a bus to Irpu Falls on August 14th. We will hike to the top of the falls (about eight kilometers) and stay overnight in a bungalow and then hike down the next day. Cool, eh? We'll take a long train ride back to Trivandrum with just enough time to pack and clean and say good-bye to lovely Kerala. Soon after, I will say an even bigger good-bye to spectacular India-and a big hello to you! I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

I met a man named Sabu who lives in Arizona and attends Arizona State University. Small world. He is visiting family here, but will return to the States before I do. He has promised to help me get in touch with Bharata Natyam and mrdungam teachers in Arizona so I can continue my studies when I return. He also told me about the only South Indian restaurant in Arizona, Hindi movies that play every Sunday at the Tempe Dollar Cinemas, and a big Indian holiday in September (Onam) that some of his friends plan to celebrate in Arizona. It will be so nice to have that connection to India.

So, don't freak out (especially you, Mamak!), but I got my nose pierced! I went to a hospital and a doctor did it, so it was clean and safe. It is common for the women to do here. I really like it, but it kind of hurts and probably will for a while. Right now I just have a small diamond stud in. I hope you all like it! My mom has already assured me that she won't. J

Last weekend we went to Cochin and Trishur. We went to a snake temple, to the oldest Jewish synagogue in India, and to Matancherri Palace all on Sunday. It was almost too much in one day, but the synagogue was wonderful. On Monday, we went to Kalamandalam, a famous university of South Indian performing arts. The campus is beautiful, full of old buildings made of wood and surrounded by green as far as the eye can see. Train tracks pass through the campus - I felt right at home! J We sat in on classes in Kathakali, Karnatic voice, stage make-up, drumming, Bharata Natyam, Mohiniyattam, and Kuchipudi. I fell in love with the place, as you might expect. Maybe someday... Laura and I were asked to show the dance teacher what we have learned so far. We got to dance on a stage surrounded by pillars carved with images of the dancing Siva and built according to specific instructions given in Bharata's Natye Sastra, the classical encyclopedia of Indian music and dance. Wow. What more can I say?

On Tuesday, we visited Mahatma Gandhi University. We spent the afternoon with some students who were so eager to share their culture with us. Some of the men sang folk songs for us. The women painted bindhis on our foreheads. We met a famous Indian poet who teaches at the university. He offered to share some of his poetry, and he took me by surprise when he began to sing. Much of Indian poetry, I remembered, is meant to be sung. We cannot possibly enjoy it to the fullest by simply reading it. The poet blew me away, his foreign words running together (the way Malayalam tends to do) in what seemed like sounds one would use to describe a drum rhythm.

.....

We are often so busy worrying about our own future, we don't even notice the atrocities that are going on right now. The prejudice, the poverty, the abuse of this fragile world we live in and it's fragile people. It is harder to ignore poverty here. The children come right up to me and pull on my clothing and step in front of me as I walk and shout at me, "Madame, Madame!" They point to their mouths and stomachs to show me they are hungry and hold out their hands for money. Their eyes say, "You can't ignore me! Here I am! In my rags with an empty stomach and dredlocked hair and dirty hands reaching at you, touching you, grabbing you. You can't pretend! Here I am in front of you!" They show me how often I pretend, how much I ignore. There are poor children in America, too, have you noticed? I haven't. We've taught them that it is rude not to let us pretend.

Let's try not to forget that everyone can do something. It is so easy to be lazy and selfish in America, where things come so easily for us. We are so lucky to be in a position that allows us to make a difference, and we have a responsibility to each other. I was again reminded of that a few weeks ago when a stunning, sun-dried woman in bright red and carrying a basket of fruits on her head approached me at Kovolum Beach. "Coming from?" I told her, "America." A knowing look spread across her face. "America, ah. You are very, very rich." Two small children with wide eyes and malnourished bodies seemed to come out of her skirt. They peered around their mother and smiled at me, big dirty grins. "You want pineapple, rich lady? Mango? Coconut?"

Date: Wed, 21 Jul 1999

All is well here. I am starting to miss home more and more. It is funny--I thought I was so ready to get out of Arizona and I have been making all these plans to get to L.A. as soon as possible, but now that I am on the other side of the world all I want more than anything is to be in Arizona! It's so easy to take what we have for granted, eh?

Here in India, I live every experience knowing how precious it is. I know that every day brings me closer to the end of my visit in this country. So I appreciate everything a little more. If only I could learn to live like this all the time, realizing that everything is impermanent and the only sure thing is change. It's a fine line between living every day to the fullest because it could be the last, and falling into despair over the meaninglessness of it all. I have made so many new friends here, but I knew from the beginning that after 3 months, I may never see them again. Perhaps if we were to enter all our relationships like that, we would not put so many expectations on the people that we love. We would just enjoy the moments we share with them. And yet, it's important to have some security in life, ya know? Hmmm... that's a complicated one. Let me know your thoughts on the subject.

We went to a Karnatic music concert outside of the Sri Padmanabhaswamy Temple last night. The temple is the main attraction in Trivandrum, but unfortunately only Hindus are allowed inside. The concert was spectacular, though, held at the top of the temple steps right at the entrance. After the sun went down, the Hindu priests lit oil lamps made out of half coconut shells on the steps all the way up to the temple. It was beautiful! I closed my eyes for just a moment, listening to the music echo through the plaza and feeling the lights flicker under my eyelids, and the second I opened them it started to pour. I watched the flames flicker out, and I was mad a t myself for not looking at them when I had the chance. Speaking of impermanence... It was marvelous for one moment, though. I didn't get a picture before the flames went out, so I can't show you how spectacular it was. But you can close your eyes and see it. Hundreds of small flames flickering in the dark, casting shadows of stone women dancing with Krishna on the temple floor to the rhythm of the mrdungam. Don't keep your eyes shut too long, though. You might miss something! :) I will write one more time next week, and then I will be travelling for two weeks. And then I'm coming home! Can you believe how fast time is flying?

Date: Tue, 03 Aug 1999

Hello, hello! I am writing one last time before I take off. My train leaves in one hour for Madurai, Tamil Nadu. I will try to write again in a week from Bangalore if I can find an Internet Cafe. Shouldn't be a problem. Please don't send me an e-mail unless it's urgent because I will not have the time to read them. But I will update you on my travels.

This past week has been so crazy! Everything is happening so fast. Can you believe I will be home in just two weeks? I turned in my final paper last Friday, our performance was Sunday night, and I turned in my final exam today. Everything went really well—I feel good about it. We got a lot of compliments on our performance. I have a video for anyone who's interested in watching it.

The Bharata Natyam costume was so much fun. It took hours to do our make-up, etc. and three people to help us get on the clothes and jewelry. We felt like goddesses. Last week we got into the Padmanabhaswamy Temple with certificates that say we are Hindus. I doubt they believed it, but they let us in anyway. It was amazing. So huge! One room had musical pillars that we could hit and they all made different tones. The main attraction is an enormous statue of the god Visnu. It is so big, we can only see parts of him at a time. He lays on his side in a closed room. As we walk the room, a first door opened and we saw his feet, a second opened and we passed his middle, then a third opened and we caught a glimpse of his head. The Hindu priests got as much money out of us as they could, for taking pictures, for watching our shoes, etc. It's funny how the people who are supposed to be the holiest always seem to want money.

On the way home, our auto rickshaw driver asked where we were from. “In America,” he told us, “you don't understand that we are all the same. Here in Kerala, it doesn't matter if you're Hindu, Muslim or Christian. It doesn't matter what language you speak or where you are from. One person worships Christ, another worships Siva, it is all the same. When you are in my country, you wear sarees. When you are in America, you wear blue jeans. I have dark skin, yours is light. I am a man, you are women. It is all the same, we are all the same. We don't know everything in Kerala, but we know this much.” A very Hindu philosophy and one that I like very much.

Last week, we also saw a ritual theater performance. Hindu priests made a huge sand mandala on the floor. It took them hours. Then a man began dancing around the mandala and went into a trance. He began dancing wildly over the mandala, destroying it. When he was done, he smashed coconuts for our good health and we got to take home some of the sand. After five hours, I wanted something a little more than sand, to be honest. It was neat, but very tiring! They tend to draw things out in this country.

Last Saturday I went to the Padmanabhaswamy Temple again just to buy some gifts from the huge selection they have displayed outside. A Hindu priest approached me and asked if I had seen any of the smaller temples around town. When I said no, he hailed an auto and took me to five temples in a row. I received blessings and prasad from each one and he told me about the gods and the history of the temples. He was very friendly and fun. Then on the way back, he asked me “Are you happy?” I said yes, I was, so he asked me to donate money to the temple for his good deed. “However much you are happy, give that much.” I didn't mind – I had enjoyed the tour. Still, I had to wonder about his intentions from the beginning.

All of the friends we have made here this summer invited us over last week for tea or chapati at their respective homes. So we had a busy week going from house to house allowing people to stuff us and take our pictures. We went to the voice teacher's house, Regini, one evening for dinner. It was a one bedroom house with a small kitchen and no bathroom. Nine people lived there. Regini's mother had spent all day making us dinner and she smiled the entire time we were there. She didn't speak any English, so she just stared at us with a huge grin on her face for two hours. They were some of the happiest people I have ever met. A few friendly neighbors also had us over to their homes. I realized that if I ever stayed in India for more than just a few months, I would probably make some wonderful friends. The people here are so wonderful.

Well, I have to boogie to catch my train. I am feeling quite nervous. I have never done this kind of traveling before. Fortunately, I won't be alone. I don't know if I could do that. Some of the other students are braver than I am and they are traveling by themselves for a while. Some are going up north where the turmoil is happening. I figure I'd rather play it safe and enjoy myself without feeling nervous the whole time. I'm sure my family is happy to hear that.

Date: Wed, 11 Aug 1999

Hello, all! I will be home in a week, can you believe it? I am having a blast and I don't feel ready to come home, yet, but at the same time I am so excited to see all of you!

On August 3rd, I caught a night train to Madurai. We arrived early in the morning before the streets were crowded. It was nice and cool, so a few of us dropped our stuff at the hotel and took a walk through the city. We shared the roads with cows, goats, chickens, dogs, cats and sleeping beggars. We passed several temples, and at one at Brahmin priest beckoned us to come in. We did, and he gave us prasad. I was instantly in love with the city. Although it was large, it had a nice small town feel. Later that day, we shopped around the temple market (I kept expecting Jesus to show up and start turning over the tables) and then we visited the Sree Meenakshi Temple. A painted elephant took our entrance fee and blessed us on the head. We had to take off our shoes, but the pavement was so hot we ran around laughing trying not to burn our feet while people stared at us. We found some shade and sat while temple monkeys played on the gopurams and a man read my palm. Turns out I have a great future ahead of me! I will live until I'm old, die of natural causes, have a good husband and four children, enjoy my career, live all over the world, and make lots of money. :)

The next day, I left Madurai hesitantly. I didn't want to leave, but I knew there were places to go and things to see! A last minute decision took us to a hill station called Kodaikanal a few hours by bus outside of the city. It was Heavenly. We stayed in a hostel overlooking a green valley in a room with big comforters, carpet, and hot water. It was cold, and I was reminded how nice it is to curl up under warm covers with a cold nose. Then next day I went horseback riding down to a waterfall and ate lunch on a big rock. We walked around a lake at the center of town where we discovered many Tibetan refugees selling shawls and blankets. We couldn't bare to leave, so we stayed one more night and took off the next day.

Then the trip started to take a turn for the worst. We wanted to get to Thanjavor, but no trains would get up directly there. We took a four hour bus to Pillani, then from there another three hour bus to Tiruchchirappalli, then caught a three hour train to Thanjavor. We were filthy and exhausted when we arrived, but we dragged ourselves to the Brandishwar Temple anyway. It was already dark, but the temple was lit up with flood lights. It was spectacular. I wanted to lay down in a corner of the temple and sleep under the stone faces with the bats and the monkeys, but I think that's just because I was so tired!

The next morning we caught an early train to Chidambaram. We hadn't slept well the night before (yukky hotel), so we were still tired when we arrived. We stepped out of the train station into a vast, stifling desert and immediately began to sweat. We lugged our stuff to the nearest hotel, but they were closed. The next hotel was full. So we ended up at the nicest (and most expensive) hotel in town. I think all together there were three hotels in Chidambaram. We showered and ate and felt revived, so we headed to the Siva Nataraja Temple. Then I remembered (we had been to tired to think of it before) that temples close in the afternoons. We wanted to make the best of our day, so we decided to walk around town. Bad idea. The local people stared at us as we passed, probably saying to themselves, "why are you in this god awful town?" There was nothing to see or do and we were dying of the heat. We saw a pony rickshaw and thought it might be fun to ride one -- give us something to do. We got in, and the man began beating the pony on his backside ferociously with a bamboo stick. The pony wasn't up to speed because there were three of us and it was so hot, so the man just kept beating him. When the pony began to bleed, I couldn't handle it and I yelled for the man to let us out. We spent the next hour in an air conditioned ice cream shop until the temple opened. At the temple, begging children followed us so closely I thought they might make off with my stuff. Then pulled on our clothes, pushed us, stood in our way so we couldn't see anything. I finally gave money to them, hoping they would leave us alone, but that just attracted a whole group of more children. We couldn't shake them and we weren't enjoying the temple, so we just left. We went to the train station to get the earliest train out of there the next day, but everything was full. We decided it was worth a long bus ride to get out of there, and the next day we took off.

We arrived in Mamallapuram that afternoon and slept for hours. We didn't even try to see the town we were too tired, but I managed to walk the few feet to the beach in front of our hotel. I sat and stared at the water and reminded myself, "Hey, your in India! Travelling isn't easy. But each day is a new day with new experiences." I laughed at myself for being so grumpy, and went back to the hotel where I ordered a huge seafood dinner and a beer and grinned until I fell asleep.

The next morning, we got up early and saw spectacular rock carvings and an old, magnificent shore temple. We had to catch a bus to Madras in order to be on time for our train to Bangalore, so we left too quickly. I would have liked to stay longer. It turns out, though, that I was on my way to paradise.

We arrived in Bangalore two nights ago and checked into a pretty nice hotel. We threw away our filthy churudars and put on our jeans. Bangalore is a big city and we can get away with looking like dumb tourists. :) Yesterday, Mike met up with us from Madras (he was staying in an Ashram there) and he and Elizabeth went to the Botanical Gardens. Alida and I had read something about a dance village 30 km outside of Bangalore and thought we'd check it out. Easier said than done!

We hopped on a bus that was supposed to get us somewhere near where we needed to be. It dropped us off in a small, empty town with nothing for miles around. Luckily, an auto rickshaw drove by and agreed to take us to Nrityagram. He took a turn onto a dirt road and started driving us into the middle of what looked like a jungle. Alida and I exchanged glances that said, "This man is going to take us into the jungle and kill us!" But an hour and 200 rupees later, we were at the entrance to what looked like a village out of a star wars movie. The round red clay buildings seemed to grow up out of the earth. The auto driver left quickly and we were afraid we might be stuck there forever. A man in a black suit appeared in a doorway and asked us if we wanted something cool to drink. We did, and we expressed our fear that we didn't have a ride back into Bangalore. He said he would arrange a car. I felt like we were on Fantasy Island and I kept expecting to hear a voice say "The plane! The plane!" He directed us to the entrance of Nrityagram, where a pretty young woman asked us to remove our shoes and allowed us to walk around freely as long as we agreed not to enter any of the dorms. The dorms were small round clay buildings with palm leaf roofs. We passed a dance classroom that was open to the outside on three sides and met a student from France. She pointed us to an old stage surrounded by stone pillars and with an open roof. The audience seats were stones stuck into the ground horizontally. The stage jetted out into the audience in a half circle. Stairs lead up the back to what appeared to be the roof of the stage, but turned out to be another stage. We sat there and watched what we could see of the solar eclipse. (It was very cloudy so we couldn't see much.)

I left Nrityagram knowing I would be back someday, perhaps to study, who knows. We went back across to what turned out to be a resort where we'd seen the man in black. A different man appeared and lead us to a table were cold water and a salad was waiting for us. "Do you want dinner?" We did, and while we waited for it he showed us around the resort. He showed us a room with a dome ceiling and a huge bathtub. The back door opened onto a patio in the middle of an incredible garden. Then he showed us the massage and meditation building, a round building that echoed depending on where in the room we stood. He finally took us to the top of a water tower built like a lighthouse and we climbed to the top and looked out over the vast jungle and remembered we were in the middle of nowhere. We returned to the table, where the man proceeded to serve us a five course dinner and wine (good wine is practically impossible to find in India). When we finished, he told us our car was ready. We got in and drove an hour back through scattered villages and farms and the driver dropped us off on MG Road, a block from our hotel. Okay, Twilight Zone! I'm still not sure if it really happened.

In a couple hours, we are catching a train to Mysore. From there we plan to see Bandipur National Park and Irpu Falls. But who knows what will happen! India is so funny. Sometimes it's so hideous all I can do is laugh, and the rest of the time it's so beautiful I have to cry.

Date: Tue, 17 Aug 1999

Hello, for the last time from lovely India! I just arrived in Trivandrum this morning by train and I'm so tired, but my mind is wired and I couldn't wait to e-mail so I could tell you all about the last week of my trip!

On Tuesday, we left Bangalore and took a train to Mysore. Mysore is a beautiful city with an enormous palace at its center. There is something about big, old buildings that make a city feel spacious and interesting. We checked into our hotel, then walked around town. Salty smelling street food was being sold on every corner, the palace was lit up, the people smiled at us as we walked by. I had found another wonderful city in India. We slept comfortably and hard that night (although I was told by several people on this trip that I talk in my sleep a lot), and the next day we took a taxi to Bandipur National Park. We rode an elephant through the jungle and saw spotted deer, monkeys, a peacock, sambar, a wild dog, and elephants. We were only allowed to travel through a small area of the park because the rest is dedicated to preserving the wildlife, which I'm glad about, so the elephant ride only lasted about an hour and then we returned to Mysore. The taxi driver conned us into letting him take us to several factories around town where the locals make sandalwood carvings and jewelry, but we soon discovered that the driver was making commission off anything we bought and we got tired of him pushing us to spend money, so we ditched him. We took a tour of the palace until night fell and all the white lights came on, then went back to the hotel in glorious moods.

We left Mysore early Saturday morning with the intention of going to Irupu Falls where we had made a reservation in a bungalow at the top of the falls. On the way there, however, we learned that the forest department provides housing, but no food. After 8 km of hiking to the top of the falls, we wouldn't have any food available for dinner or breakfast the next morning. So we decided against it. Instead, we went to Madikeri, a town in the Western Ghats. We found a nice hotel, and a man at the front desk who was very obviously gay befriended us immediately. He brought food to our room and chatted with us for over an hour. He was so kind-- and he was hilarious! I could have spent my entire time in Madikeri just talking to him! He wanted to dress me and Elizabeth up in sarees, and when I showed him a saree I bought in Bangalore he was furious with me for spending too much money and insisted on making me a blouse to go with it. He brought music to our room and danced around singing and laughing. We just stayed in the room that night enjoying his company. The next morning, we woke up with the sun and took a bus to Irupu Falls. We hiked the 8 km to the top and ate snacks that we brought on a large rock while water washed around us. I took my shoes off to wade around in the water, and as we were leaving I went to put my shoes on and noticed a leach attached to my right foot between my toes. Needless to say, I freaked out! It turns out that leaches are a common occurrence in fresh waters in the middle of the jungle, but I certainly had never encountered one before. Fortunately, Michael knew what to do and he put a match up to it so it let go and then removed it with a knife. The jungle isn't just fun and games, kids! We had been told that wild elephants come to the water to drink in the evenings and they don't mind killing any tourists who might be lingering, so we left before the sun went down and took a bus home. My foot wouldn't stop bleeding and I was thoroughly grossed out, so I was ready to leave anyway. Good thing we didn't decide to stay there overnight! Muktar (our friend at the hotel) smacked my foot when I showed him and yelled at me for taking off my shoes. :)

We awoke early again the next day and took an auto to Abby Falls. We hiked from there to Raja's Tombs, three old, unimpressive buildings that give a spectacular view of Madikeri. I caught an auto by myself to Raja's Seat, a park that overlooks a green valley, and just sat for a while. After a week of being in hotel rooms, buses, trains, autos, etc. with the same people, I was ready to be alone. Not something I usually enjoy, but have learned to appreciate this summer. That afternoon, we took an eight hour bus ride to Calicut (thank God the cutest little boy was sitting next to me and we made friends pretty quickly, so I wasn't bored out of my mind). From Calicut, we caught an eleven hour night train home. I couldn't fall asleep on the train because I was thinking about the last two weeks. I didn't want to forget any of it.

As we pulled into the station in Trivandrum this morning, I had the strangest feeling that I was returning home. It's funny how quickly a place can become home if you let it. It was so nice to be arriving somewhere familiar, I had to laugh out loud! My room at the program house, a place I never fully felt comfortable in, was so refreshing. My own shower, my own bed, my own pillow. It's amazing the things we sometimes take for granted.

I was thinking about all that I've learned in India this summer during the last couple of hours on the train this morning. Besides the obvious (Bharata Natyam, Mrdungam, Malayalam, a new culture, new food, etc.), I learned so many small things. I no longer walk down the streets here with my head down, intimidated by the staring men, nor do I glare at them until they look away. I walk with a confidence I never knew I had. I am not afraid of the traffic anymore, I can dodge cars and bicycles with the best of them. I don't close my eyes when I'm in an auto rickshaw. Instead, their crazy maneuvers make me laugh. I feel comfortable with the women friends I have made here -- although we don't know enough of each others' languages to have a full conversation, now I am content to walk in silence or just giggle with them. I can tell you the best tailor in town, the restaurant that serves the best South Indian food, and the restaurants that will make you sick. I can tell you where to catch a train or bus to practically anywhere in South India. I can haggle with shopkeepers and auto drivers, find my way through back roads to the houses of friends and teachers, wash a full load of laundry in the bathtub in twenty minutes, have a simple conversation with Thankamma in Malayalam... And now I am leaving. After all that, I am just leaving. Don't get me wrong, I am so happy to come home. But I am so, so sad to leave. India has been good to me (someone I know told her to be) and I will never forget these small but magnificent experiences. I will see you in a few days!

Date: Fri, 17 Sep 1999

Subject: Back in the USA

Hey everyone! I am back in the good ol' USA! I just reconnected my computer, so that's why I haven't written until now. I am pretty much readjusted. I actually experienced more culture shock returning home than I did arriving in India! I found a Bharata Natyam teacher in Tempe with the help of my friend Sabu, and I start class tonight. I will work on my application to UCLA this week. Wish me luck!!!

...

I am keeping myself busy with dance classes at ASU and I'm trying to find a full time job as a cocktail waitress (any suggestions?) I also got a job teaching ballet at a local dance studio one night a week. I miss India and I have a hard time explaining my experiences to anyone, which can be a little frustrating. I still carry a piece of her in my heart and I think I always will.

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And please remember, the above report belongs to Cross-Cultural Dance Resources, Inc. and Danielle Van Dobben. It may not be copied without written permission.

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