Reality

I’m not even a month in and I’ve already failed to update on a weekly basis. I apologize. Honestly, I wasn’t really doing much but the days are long and I’ve been very lethargic lately. Hopefully this ridiculously long post will make up for my absence.

Last weekend we took a trip to Khajuraho as the final event of orientation. Khajuraho is famous for the erotic temples created by the Chandela kings . . . at least that was what I was told in the weeks leading up to the trip. Personally, I didn’t think the temples were that erotic. Yes, there were lots of voluptuous women and there were scenes from the Kama Sutra, but in general that made up less than 40% of the carvings. Did you know that Kama Sutra literally means to love, how to, aka The How to Love Guide. The original only had 84 positions. Over time that was expanded to 200 and it didn’t reach 300 until it came to America. I wonder what that says about Americans . . . Most of the engravings were of Gods, warriors, people in everyday scenes, animals, and flowers. To put it simply, they were incredible. (Look for a picture post soon) The engravings were so intricate. It’s hard to believe that these images were carved more than a thousand years ago, without the help of modern technology. Also, the temples are huge. Some as high as 100 feet! Hindus believe it is a sin to put things on top of Gods, so the area between the ceiling and the top of the temples is hollow. Can you say awesome engineering?

According to my guide, the temples were built without cement or mortar, instead the sandstone pieces that the temples were created from were “put together like legos.” Originally there were 84 temples but now there are only about 20, only one of which is still a working temple. That’s become Muslim invaders vandalized the temples due to the idols and other images of things created by God, which is shunned in Islam. To have a temple in working condition, the God has to be restored. So if someone were to restore the Gods in all of the remaining temples, they too would be working. The sign that a temple is working is flags. So if you see Hindu temples but there are no flags, it is probably abandoned. Speaking of temples, they are about as prevalent as churches are in the States. I’m not even sure how many temples I pass on my 5 km ride to school, but I am pretty sure the number surpasses fifty.

Khajuraho is literally in the middle of nowhere. It took a 5 hour train and then a 4 hour bus ride to get there. The train was nice. I can’t say much about it because I was asleep for most of the ride (we left at 5 am) but I thought it was comparable to the 3 hour Amtrak ride I took this summer. The only downside is that unlike Amtrak, where the conductor and various attendants inform you when it’s your stop, they just leave you hanging in India. Also, the train only stops for a few minutes at each stop so you have to be ready to get off, the second the train stops. Luckily, the train was scheduled to stop for 8 minutes when we were supposed to get off so we had plenty of time for everyone to exit. But that’s rare. Most stops are less than 5 minutes.
On the train chai is served almost immediately after you are on and you can have as much as you want. I have to admit, I wasn’t really a fan of tea until about 5 months ago when I visited my friend Nikoo who is Iranian and who goes to school in Kansas City. Her mom came up the last half of my stay and in her presence, we had tea with and after every meal as well as at designated tea times in between. I didn’t want to be rude, so I said yes, every time tea was offered and very quickly, I learned to appreciate tea, even if I put multiple sugar cubes in, when no one was looking.

Indian chai is like a good cup of American coffee. It starts off strong and black. Milk and sugar are added and suddenly it becomes the best thing you have ever tasted. One of our favorite pastimes in between classes is to go to the chai walla (seller) and get 2 oz cups of chai for 5 rupees. (About 45 rupees is equivalent to a dollar). Because it is winter here, the chai wallas also add ginger which is simply delectable. But back to the train . . .
We were given one meal that was vegetarian. It happened to be breakfast and consisted of American white bread, butter, jelly and prathas which are like thick tortillas. There are usually potato slivers within the dough and it is served with a pickle, usually mango pickle. I’m not sure if Mango pickle is actually pickled the same way things are pickled in the States, because it is nothing like anything pickled I have had. It looks like a watery red relish and it’s is extremely salty and spicy, yet delicious.

After our train ride, we stopped in Orccha where we had lunch and went to see the Orcha Palace. It took 22 years to build but was only lived in for one night. The king who it was built for, apparently died while traveling, the day after he moved in. The palace was a gift to a Muslim king from a Hindu king and according to my guide, “When Hindus give gifts, we don’t take them back” so it was abandoned after the death of the Muslim king. It’s one of the last great examples of Indo-Muslim architecture.

In general, the trip was a breath of fresh air, literally. I don’t have asthma or allergies but the pollution of Delhi makes me sneeze on a regular basis. It was nice to once again breathe fresh air and be away from the city. I always thought I was a city person, but the more I travel, the more I find I like the places outside of the city. It’s peaceful. You control the tempo of life and everyone is generally friendly. Unfortunately I can’t force myself to stay in one place long enough to actually enjoy a life in the country, but when I am there, I feel as if I belong.
The only downside to Khajuraho was the trip back. Due to thick fog, our train was delayed so we spent a couple of extra hours in Khajuraho. However, when we finally left we hit a lot of traffic. And by traffic, I mean a couple of times we found ourselves behind slow trucks. Because the roads are narrow and our bus was so big, we could only go around the slow vehicles when we were in towns which were often 20-45 minutes apart. Consequently, the bus ride took 5 hours instead of 4. Also, the fog wouldn’t let up so our train kept getting pushed back. When we eventually got on, we had to go really slowly, so the train ride was 9 hours long. Instead of getting back at 10:30 pm on Sunday evening, we got back around 10:30 am, on Monday. The advantage to this is that IES (my study abroad program) canceled all Monday classes, so I got a free day. Mostly I just lounged around and slept.

Classes started Tuesday and I have no doubts that this will be an awesome semester. Currently I am taking
Beginning Hindi- The only downside is that it meets for 135 minutes at a time, starting at 8 am Which I think is RIDICULOUS!
Cities of Delhi- A course that follows the history of Delhi, specifically the 7 cities of Delhi. It has field trips!
India Since Independence –Self explanatory. I’m excited to take Indian history in India.
Microeconomics of Development –An economics course for people who know nothing about economics. The topic sounds interesting, the professor is awesome, and we have field trips!
Indian Epics – This is a class about the Indian Epics Ramayana and the Mahabharata. I’m waiting to see if I can take a religion class at the University of Delhi, if I can, I’m dropping this course since I have already studied the Mahabharta.

Aside from classes, and the trip, not much has been going on. I’m think I’ve finally adjusted to life in India. Parts of life here are very similar to the States but in some respects, there are some definite differences. Here are a few of the abnormal things that have become a normal in my life.

1) Auto rickshaws. Also known as my main source of transportation. They are like three-wheeled covered scooters with enough room to fit 3 people in addition to the driver. Although sometimes 4 people if need another person to split to fare with. In extreme cases 6 people, plus the driver. We’ll do anything to save money. Most places cost about 60 rupees one way, (about $1.30) but we try to get by with only paying 50 rupees so that if you split it with someone, you never have to pay more than 25. Yes I realize I'm talking about figuring out ways to pay less than 50 cents for a ride to school, but just because I am in a place where everything is cheap, doesn't mean I've lost my "poor college student" habits.

2) Lack of central heating. When I read that it would be cold in India, I didn't take it seriously. Rochester is like the Arctic compared to this place, so 40 degree weather would be a welcome blessing in comparison to the near zero wind chills I came from. And for the most part, I was right. My pullover is more than enough to bear the “chilly weather.” What I didn’t take into account was the lack of central heating. I'm not sure how the Indians do it, but central heating doesn't exist in India. Houses are built for the summer, not the winter. The floors consist of concrete, covered with marble-esque tiles. The rooms are open and filled with windows. To deal with the winter chill, we are given thick blankets, space heaters, an unlimited supply of chai, and told to put on more clothing. Too bad I don’t have more clothing. Of course I could buy sweaters but that costs money. In about 3 weeks it will be warm, I can wait. Until then when I’m at the residence, I spend as much time as possible in my room, under my blanket and with the heater on. Although I haven’t traveled much, I’ve started a list of what exactly is essential to life as well as all the luxuries I don't need. Central heating is not on that list.

3) Water heaters. In addition to the lack of central heating, there is also no such thing as instant hot water here. Instead you get hot water from a "geezer" or water heater. That sounds nice until you want to take a shower and remember that you've got to turn on the geezer and wait 15-20 minutes before there will be any hot water. But don’t get too excited. All of your waiting will only reward you with about 8 minutes of hot water. So you’re thinking, I’ll just keep the geezer on longer for a longer shower. Sorry. I left the geezer on for an hour once (I forgot about it) and I still only had enough water for an 8 minute shower. Some girls have to take two separate showers. One for washing their bodies, the other to wash their hair. Somehow I have managed to accomplish both in one shower. Having to heat water wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t affect my sleep. In Malawi we had to boil water before taking our bucket baths but you could do that in 5 minutes with a nice fire. Here, if I want to take a shower in the morning, I have to set my alarm 15-20 minutes before I actually want to get up so that when it goes off I can turn on the geezer and then rest my eyes until I have hot water. We have been advised not to take showers in the evening because there may not be enough water. Every day, the city pumps enough water to fill our water tank. Every house has a water tank but I don’t know how much it holds. When the tank is empty, you’re out of water until the next day. So we also have to be conscious of our water use. It is preferred that we take bucket baths instead of showers because they use significantly less water. I remember bucket baths in Malawi and let’s just say that if given the choice, I’m picking a shower. So, my roommate and I decided that we’ll do our part to save water by only showering every other day. Ultimately, I don’t think it saves much water, if any, but it’s the thought that counts. When it gets hot and we’ll need to take showers every day, we decided that we’re just going to abandon conserving water for the more important issue of others having to smell us.

Because we aren’t allowed to keep our geezers on when don't need them, all hand washing is done with freezing cold water. I'm not sure that's very healthy but I'm not complaining. I'm sure my immune system is having fun fighting all of the new germs I come across daily.

4) Communicating in various languages. On any given day I might speak 3 or 4 languages. English is a given, but as I mentioned before, most conversation about food are in Hindi. Also, when I take rickshaws, I usually speak with the drivers in Hindi. Occasionally, I throw some of my limited Arabic in the mix. I was told by one of the guys who was here last semester that even if my Hindi is awful, if I throw in the occasional Arabic word, it will get me far. So I’m been trying that out. Finally, there is a guy in my program from Spain. Sometimes we have small conversations in Spanish. And by conversation, I mean I say something in Spanish, he laughs and then responds in English.

That happens a lot more than I would like it to. I make the effort to speak the language and people refuse to speak back. For instance, while eating at a restaurant in Khajuraho, I asked the waiter for panni, aka water. He looked at me like I was an idiot and then said “Mineral water?” Or a couple of days ago I was in a taxi with some other students and we were trying to get the driver’s attention. I kindly said “bhaiya” which means brother but is a polite way to refer to rickshaw and taxi drivers. He didn’t respond so I said it a little louder. He still didn’t respond so in the same tone I said “Hey” more so as a joke, and that’s what got his attention! Of course everyone in the taxi started laughing and I was left wondering why I even bother to speak Hindi when English seems to be more effective. I know my efforts are appreciated but sometimes I wonder if the frustration is really worth it.

5)Spicy food. Spicy implies heat but I think originally it was in reference to the amount of spices used. Here it is being used for both. The food here has so many spices so that every time I eat something, I feel like my a bomb of spices explodes in my mouth, but I like it. I’m tasting things I have never had before and even though I don’t really know what they are, I can’t get enough of it. At first it was overpowering but now I have found I can differentiate a between the spices. The food is also really hot, but the flavor is so good that I force myself to tolerate the pain. These days a buring mouth is just a symptom of eating. My hope is that slowly I will train myself to be able to handle spicy food. Thus I have adopted the following way of eating: 1)Consume food until the burning is too much to handle. 2) When burning is too much, stop eating and drink water. Also eat raita (yogurt) if it is available, until the burning subsides. 3)Continue eating and repeat step 2 until full.

And that is my life.

Although . . .

I think it would be a great disservice to only paint a positive picture of India. Everywhere has problems and India has it’s fair share. In addition to pollution, poverty is a big issue here. In my microeconomics class, we learned that virtually all federal taxes in India, are paid by people living in Delhi and Mumbai. Two cities and less than 2% of the entire population pays the taxes that fund services for a nation of more than 1 billion people! I’m guessing tax breaks for the rich, aren’t really an option here.

Needless to say, I was in no way prepared for the poverty I witness on a daily basis. Beggars are everywhere. In Malawi, we were instructed not to give money to beggars because it makes them dependent and you don’t do it to help them, you do it to make yourself feel better. Seeing someone destitute makes you uncomfortable, consequently, you give money so that you feel better and temporarily the problem goes away. Thus, I came here with the mindset that I wouldn’t give money. I quickly found, that was a lot easier said than done, especially when you are constantly surrounded by poverty and see beggars on a regular basis. The first few days here, in the midst of excitement from all the new stuff I found that I was deeply troubled by the poverty. What do you do? I was tempted to give but every time I even think about it, I hear Joe, the head of the Malawi program, telling me that I’m doing it because it makes me feel better, or I see scenes from Slumdog Millionaire. Also, I was informed that giving is frowned up by Indians. I’ve talked to a few of the students here and everyone has their own theory about giving. One kid, Paul, whose dad works in the Foreign Service and has spent enough time here that he speaks Hindi pretty fluently, said that he never gives more than 5 rupees and always gives to children and mothers holding babies. Another girl Liz, who grew up in India, often gives food, but said that every time she sees a beggar she struggles with what to do. Lastly, another girl Amanda, bought candy and gives that out to children.

While I feel bad about it, I’ve taken a more hard-line approach. In Malawi, we’d be walking through the village or in the city and someone would ask Joe for money. He would respond with “Give me (insert amount that they asked for)” and they would look shocked and walk away. So when able bodied children ask me for money when I am walking in shopping areas I do the same thing in Hindi. Once a kid looked at me angrily and then just walked away. Another kid starting laughing and then we started playing games. In fact, I must wear a sign on my forhead that says “I am fun” because I can’t count the number of times I randomly play games with children, usually after they ask me for money. I even have a friend that sells books at an intersection I pass by everyday on the way to school. He’s a persistant little guy and the more I say no, the more he asks. So I started mocking him and he thought that was hilarious. The last time, we were having so much fun, my rickshaw driver joined in. I have yet to ask him his name but now that I’ve seen him a few times, I don’t think it would be creepy, so maybe I’ll do it next week.
But those are examples of best case scenarios. Usually when beggars ask me for money, especially older people and mothers with babies, I just say no and pray that the light will change quickly.

And then there are the moments when I find myself at a complete lost of words while being flooded with emotion.

Friday I went to a slum. The slum was inside of what appeared to be an abandoned landfill, except 3500 people live there in makeshift tents, erected from anything they can find. If you have seen Slumdog Millionaire, that slum was the Trump Towers compared to this one. I was there to tour the school that a NGO I might volunteer for, built. The school consisted of cardboard boxes that were taped together around branches. It was only about 15 by 10 feet. Next door, in a similar structure, about half the size, was the preschool. But about 50% of the space was occupied by a bed and there was laundry along the walls. The preschool also serves as the house of the teacher. Ironically it didn't smell as bad as I thought it would. In fact, the smell was really faint, but maybe that's because of the area I was in? The most shocking part was driving by and seeing little kids digging through trash, in search of food scraps and recyclables, alongside cows and goats! They were trying to get the food before the animals did! This was only topped by the sickening fact that this slum is literally across the road from a really nice mall. Imagine a slum across from a place that sells Prada and that's what you've got. Of course, it's kind of hidden and you actually have to drive into the slum area to know it's a slum. You can't tell from the road thanks to mounds of dirt that make it appear as a construction site. . . but people are spending hundreds of dollars across from where others are forced to dig through trash. How is that even possible?

How is it that we live in a world with such inhumanity? What does one do to deserve to live like that?
A couple of my friends from school are volunteers for a medical emergency response team. I was telling them about my experiences here and the best analogy I could come up with is this: Imagine responding to an attempted or successful suicide. All of the training in the world doesn't prepare you for it. Part of you is still a little clueless and taken back. That is exactly how I feel. I’ve seen poverty before. In Malawi, although very briefly, I got to live it, but there weren’t enough experiences, movies, photos, or talks that could have prepared me for this.

In addition to great friends, the only comfort I have is the fact that the slum has a school. And for one, two (optimistically 10 or even more) of those kids, the education they receive there will be their ticket out.

I'll admit, I both love and hate India. The food is fantastic. The pollution is not. But it is the experiences and constant reminders that I am seeing the world through a lens that is more real than I ever have, while simultaneously being changed for the better, that I wouldn't trade for the world.

Continuing to engage in adventures . . .

My first week

I've been here for about a week now. Sometimes it's hard to believe it's been so long, other times I feel like it's only been a day or two. Regardless, a lot has happened.

When I heard that we'd have orientation for two weeks, I thought my days would be light and everything would be spread out, WRONG! We start the day at 8 am and sometimes we're not done until nearly 8 pm. I think the last time I had trouble keeping my eyes open past 7 pm was when I was in elementary school. This is embarrassing.

The first few days we had logistical things to do, like introductions (thank God there were no icebreakers!) and getting photos and phones. For just about everything in India, you need a photo, including, getting a cell phone. So we all had pictures taken. After that we went to buy phones. There are only 19 of us, and 17 got phones. Yet, this took almost 4 hours! It doesn't seem so difficult. You buy a phone, fill out the information, get a sim card, it gets called in and presto! You're activated. Well that took 4 hours. Apparently time doesn't exist in India. Consequently, I've adopted my Malawi motto for India, "Nothing is guaranteed until it happens," and you never know when that will be, so I just kind of go with the flow. Between lunch and the phone adventure, the day slipped away from us.

That night we met our peer guides: Indian students who are about our age who were going to show up around the city. Everything was prearranged so I consider it either luck, fate, or both that I was put in the group that was supposed to visit various religious places. Needless to say, I went to bed excited.

My day in the city included learning how to flag down and bargain with auto rickshaw drivers, using the metro, and basic survival tips. I'll admit all of that was informative and very useful but all I really cared about was the "field trip." We traveled to Old Delhi and within 500 feet of the metro station entrance, there was a Hindu temple. Honestly, it wasn't that impressive but considering I've never been in a Hindu temple, I was ecstatic. Being able to name some of the Gods I saw was awesome. Upon leaving we were giving orange dots on the center of our foreheads.

Our next stop was a GuruDwarma or worship center Sikhs. It just so happened that the day we visited was a festival day; the birthday of a guru. Either the 9th or 10th, I think. Anyway the GuruDwarma was crowded but very exciting. I got to give offerings, see the various relics and simply enjoy the music that was being played. You have to take off your shoes and put them in the store room before entering the main part of the gurudwarma. If your shoes are dirty, need mending or polishing, the Sikhs will do all of that for free. As we were collecting our shoes, my peer guide, Neha, encouraged me and my fellow classmate Sarah Jane (SJ) and I to say a Punjabi greeting to some of Sikhs around us. SJ said it and the greeting was returned. I didn't want to say it to the same person so I simply turned around and said it to the first person I saw, which happened to be a man who looked slightly annoyed. To my surprise, he not only returned the greeting, but then in English he welcomed me to the gurudwarma and then gave us a tour and short info session about the Sikh faith. He then invited us to eat in the free kitchen which is open 365 and serves anyone no matter race, creed, or economic status. Neha was concerned that we might get sick since they definitely didn't use filtered water to cook with but SJ and I didn't care.

Let me just say that we broke a lot of rules that day. Instead of eating at a restaurant, we spent the afternoon eating from various street vendors which is a definite no-no. After arriving one of the first lectures we received was about not eating from street vendors. Whoops! I am currently just fine in case anyone was wondering.

After the gurudwarma we went to the Jamma Masjid which was built by the same guy who built the Taj Mahal. It was pretty awesome. I wasn't as impressed with the interior as I was with the architecture but we can't always be winners. The best part was that we got to go to the top of the minaret. It took forever to climb all of the stairs but the view of the city was spectacular.

Those are probably the highlights of this week. Everything else is kind of blah. We've gone to a few Indian restaurants but most meals, we eat at the dorm because we have a chef! He cooks us Indian food for breakfast and dinner. The only exception is that a couple of days ago he made us pasta and vegetables. It was good, but I like his Indian food better.

The rest of orientation has consisted of lectures about safety and registering for claseses, etc. AND, I almost forgot . . We started Hindi classes . . . at 8 AM! Seriously? I don't know who had the brilliant idea of making Hindi at 8 am but it is a disaster! Ok, that's an exaggeration. It's not that bad. I just hate the fact that I've got to get up at 6:30 for a class at 8. I can't wait until the 18th when classes officially start and I'll only have class twice a week instead of every day. So far we've learned about 10 of the 52 letters of the alphabet. We also have vocabulary and reading drills. Translation: I can read and write a few things in Hindi and I can have extremely limited conversations. Mostly I just know how to greet people and talk to rickshaw drivers. Of our assigned vocabulary, I know virtually nothing, however, I'm picking up a lot of food words. So many, that these days most of my conversations about food are in Hindi, rather than English.

I don't really know what else to say so I'll just end here.

Continuing to engage in adventures . . .

Delhi Day 1

I've only been in Delhi about 20 hours and already I feel overwhelmed. Maybe that's because before I even left, I there mechanical problems which caused flight delays and made me miss my connecting flight. So ultimately, I got to Newark after first stopping in both Memphis and Atlanta, only to find that my luggage had been sent to Minneapolis and there wasn't a guarantee it would arrive in Delhi at the same time I did. Lucky it arrived an hour before my flight departed and we were reunited in Delhi.

And then there is Delhi itself. Currently the city is covered in a thick fog. Last night it was so bad that it took an hour to taxi in from the runway. When I made it through customs and finally found my driver, I entered a world that I wasn't prepared for. The crowds of people waiting outside of the airport in addition to the, what appeared to be lifeless bodies, covered in blankets along pathways and roads was overwhelming. The poverty in India isn't something I just became aware of. Moreover, I've seen beggars and people sleeping on the side of the road, especially in LA. But this was somehow different, more real, scary. I have to wonder if I'm being ethnocentric and my reaction is so strong because internally and possibly unconsciously I am otherizing people suffering from poverty in India. I remember being in Oman and seeing where the migrant workers lived and being taken back for a few days. I've tried not to let myself process this in the hopes of first adjusting but I wonder if it's just going to happen anyway.

The ride to the hotel was scary to say the least. There doesn't seem to be any structure in Deli driving. You just go and hope for the best. I think one of the best illustrations of this is the fact that technically, most roads have 2 marked lanes. But in reality there are anywhere from 4-6 lanes of traffic.

My hotel, which I paid $25 a night for wasn't bad. It wasn't the Hilton, but I had running water, air conditioning (even though it's useless this time of year), a tv, fridge, free wi-fi, and complimentary breakfast! One of the kids in my program stayed in a really nice hotel and didn't get wi-fi, which made me feel even better. I won't lie, the part of town my hotel was in looked kind of sketchy but this morning I realized that's because it is in the center of a shopping district.

The ride to my dorm, was nice. I saw the diveristy that is Delhi and India in general. There were beautiful temples and buildings as well as shanti towns and people huddled around fires. In Delhi almost every road seems to have some construction, where I got to witness what appeared to be unsafe and unsatisfactory working conditions. I got to ride in an auto rickshaw and a taxi. That's because in the process of paying for my hotel, I got distracted and left my passport there! A few hours after I left they called my dorm and informed me. So I had to ride over to get it.

My dorm is located in an upper middle class development owned by lawyers. We live in a gated community with a park and small shopping center (and by small I mean maybe 8 stalls). There is also a club with a bar. They also have pool, badminton, and a swimming pool. The park is in the center of the neighborhood and it's literally 50 feet outside of our main gate. We have a guard who we have to check in with whenever ever we leave. Also the neighborhood is really safe. You can walk around anytime and nothing will happen to you. Which is nice; in a city and possibly country where women aren't supposed to be out at night, it's nice to know that we can hang out in our neighborhood.

Well that's it for now . . .

Continuing to engage in adventures,

Jessica

And so it begins . . .

Hopefully, life is filled with moments that forever alter who you are. While I've had my share of life changing moments, one of the defining moments of my life was meeting and subsequently, interacting with Ty and Marcie Frederickson. Throughout high school, I had the pleasure of having amazing teachers. When I thought the teaching couldn't get any better, I always found that the best was yet to come. However, there were parts of junior year that just couldn't be matched.

Once such instance was near the beginning of my junior year. Having known the Fredericksons for sometime by that point, I knew that they were world travelers. So, slightly intimidated and scared, one afternoon, I dropped by after school and asked Mr. Frederickson how one became a world traveler. He explained that one had to pick a place; that could be by spinning a globe and putting your finger down somewhere, getting suggestions, etc. Once the place was picked, one had to find and set a date and then do whatever was necessary to make it happen. Over the next year, I made sure to stop and talk to both Ty and Marcie on a regular basis about travel, especially when I found out that the next school year they would leave Wichita, to move to Oman.

I had no way of knowing it then, but that simple question and the events that followed, would be a defining moment in my life. Prior to that, I knew I liked to travel but my plans were to visit all fifty states and possibly Britain, so that I could acquire a British accent. However, in our conversations, something in me began to grow and change.

Fast forward to today and I am about to embark on a journey to the other side of the world. My first stop is Delhi, the capital city of India. I'll spend the spring semester there studying Hindi and the history of India. If all goes well, after my semester in India, I'll spend the summer in the Middle East, participating in an Arabic immersion program and then the fall of my senior year will be spent studying in Thailand.

It's both exciting and daunting to think that the most time I have ever spent outside of The States is 3 weeks and now that might easily become a year. It reminds me of a scene from The Namesake where Ashoke explains that he likes reading Gogol because they both spent most of their adult lives, outside of their homelands. I have a feeling that may be my life story as well, but for now, we will stick to the adventures of the coming year.

And thus, The Adventures of JBo is born! I'm not sure how often I will write, but I'm going to make a pledge to write at least once a week. You'll find pictures, stories and occasionally random discussions. I hope you enjoy!

Jessica