This morning, we woke up early to have breakfast and meet our driver at 7:30am. Tata had scheduled us on domestic flights from Mumbai. Lee and I were travelling to Jamnagar, about four hours from Mithapur. Selene and Grant were traveling to Delhi, about three hours from their destination, Babrala. It’s quite sad that we won’t see Selene and Grant again until the very end of our stay here.
Our flight to Jamnagar was scheduled to leave at 10:10, but for no clear reason, it was delayed about an hour. Sitting in the airport was fine, but just the same as yesterday, the Western faces were certainly few and far between. There were only two other Westerners – middle-aged business men – on the flight.
When we left the gate, we were bussed out onto the tarmac and boarded the plane from a staircase. As we walked on to Air India Flight 147, steam was coming from the vents (as if there was dry ice in there) and there was soothing sitar music playing.
Our flight only lasted an hour, but we were fed a full meal (which included my favourite, paneer (Indian cheese)!). We also heard an Indian instrumental version of an Enrique Iglesias song about 8 times in that hour.
We’ve been warned by many people – including Tata staff – that we must not drink the water, unless they provide it to us, or we have a staff member boil it for us. Lee has chosen to take chances, drinking two bottles on the plane (mine and his), as well as a little water-based lime drink. I, on the other hand, am playing it safe (terrified of spending a lot of time on the toilet) and am choosing to follow the rules to a T. So far, Lee seems fine. I spend a lot of time thirsty, but I’m sure we’ll work out how and where to get water as we go along. (When we got to the guest house, the Tata staff gave me four big bottles, so I should be set for a while.)
After the flight landed, a man was waiting outside the one room plane terminal with a sign that had our names on it. We got into his Tata Motors station wagon and off we went into the barren, desert-like land for a 3.5 hour drive into the middle of nowhere. The contrast between this rural area and Mumbai is striking. There’s still the poverty, but instead of urban slums (of which I witnessed the largest in the world on the way to the airport this morning), the poor out here make tents from their tarpaulin and other materials, setting them up virtually anywhere … in a field, next to a stream, wherever.
Some sights were like National Geographic pictures:
- A group of women in colourful saris sitting under a lonely tree in the middle of a field.
- A group of wooly goat/sheep animals and their Indian herders standing on one leg with the other leg folded so that the sole of the left foot is on the inside of the right thigh.
- A camel running across the road in front of our car.
We drove through a few towns where, while some people look quite modern and well-dressed, they’re riding bikes along dirt roads lined with run-down buildings and closed down stores.
Finally, we arrived in Mithapur with our first sign being a giant soda ash factory. We drove into what looks like a modest, though relatively nice planned community and up to the door of the Mitha Mahal Guest House. After signing a register, some servants carried our bags up to our rooms, which turned out to include two twin beds, a desk and chair, an armoire, a cable TV, a powerful window A/C unit, and best of all, a private bathroom with modern plumbing. Lee and I are next door to each other and the open air hall that leads to our rooms looks out over onto a small courtyard with palms and hibiscus three floors below. It’s not a Marriott, but it could be much, much worse. We’re pretty sure these are the fanciest rooms here, probably used by Tata executives when they visit.
Our one disappointment was that shortly after feeling quite pleased about our accommodation, we found out that we’re not in the guest house we thought we would be in: the one occupied by young people our age (and presumably, the other University of CA interns). The one with the sporting and more importantly, INTERNET FACILITIES. Ugh! What will I do?! We tried to contact our project sponsor here, but were given the message, “Rest tonight, we will be by to pick you up for your first day of work tomorrow.” Okay …
So Lee and I set off to wander around Mithapur. At first, right around our place, there are reasonably nice homes – i.e., very small one or two bedroom, one bathroom type houses with a small garden area and modern plumbing. There were schools and day care centres. Our impression was quite positive that people working for Tata were living in reasonably nice – albeit not fancy by any stretch of the word – housing. We went back to our guest house for a while to wait until the market opened at 4:30. We had yet to see the market.
So, at 4:30, we set off for the market, but without a clear idea of what road to take, we ended up going the long way around to get there. Before long, we were out of the “developed area” and back into a more primitive sort of area. There were some houses, but they were not as nice as the first ones we saw. There were also some shanties. The market lined broad streets in which horned cows lay. The open-air shops are mostly constructed out of the corrugated steel typically used for shanty building. We didn’t get close enough to really figure out all of what was being sold, but there were little shops selling TVs, mobile phones, fabric, food, and bike repair services.
No one bothered us, but most people stared. After two hours of wandering, we still haven’t seen another white person … so we feel a bit like circus freaks, being very white and dressed in a very Western style (jeans, sneakers, a Cambridge t-shirt, for me). All I can think is how did this Safety Harbor, FL girl get to this place?
As we headed back toward the guest house, we found that the market got a bit more upscale with proper buildings and even investment companies. It’s certainly no London or NY financial house, but I was still shocked to see a building with a sign saying “Share Trading Services: Registered with the Bombay Stock Exchange.” I’m not sure I’ll ever quite get how a place like this could have a lot of stock investors.
We then decided to go past our guest house to the other guest house and see if we could get online. As we went in this direction (the opposite of the market and shanty town), the housing again got much nicer and we even passed a small park and playground. Eventually, we got to the Golden Jubilee Guest House, which we immediately recognized from pictures and descriptions of where Judge Business School and Tata said we’d be staying. As we walked in the door, the place had a much more youth-oriented feeling, with Bollywood music playing in the background and a ping pong table visible from the lobby. We poked around a bit, but with regard to the Internet, we were told we needed a password from Tata HR to use the computers. I suspect that might take longer to get than I’d like. Boo.
Also, at the youth dormitory site, we found the little handicrafts shop that was set up as a part of the project I will be working on. Village women are trained in making beautiful salwar kameezes (colourful tunic shirts with matching pants and sash), which are commonly worn by young Indian women. They also make bedspreads, pillowcases, and bags. The women are then trained on how to market and sell their products, and apparently, they’ve recently established a shop in a big city (Ahmedabad, capital of Gujarat) and are possibly supplying some Western fair trade retailers. Pretty cool. I can’t wait to actually work with these women … and to buy some of their creations. Tunics alone (which could be worn over jeans) were priced at around 299 Rupees, which is about 3.60 GBP or $7.20 USD. Tunics and matching pants were about 699 Rupees, so about 8.50 GBP or $17 USD.
Now I’m back in my room trying to cool off. It’s about 7:20pm. Dinner is served here at 8pm in a dining room on the ground floor.
Where am I at today, mentally, physically, emotionally? I’m still very tired, having not got but a few hours sleep each night. I struggle to sleep in the hot humid air and with so much new experience to digest. I’m dying to call or email Sean and my parents … still feeling very isolated, save for Lee. It’s tough being such a minority as one of the handful of white people in a town of 15,000 Indians. Especially since I cannot read, write, or speak Gujarati, really. I keep thinking of Chloe, who came here at a much younger age with much less travel and life experience than what I have right now. She fell in love with this place, and it dramatically shifted the course of her life (leading her down the path of development studies and now a PhD in world food policy). Can I grow to love this place? Right now, I’m skeptical. It’s too strange. It’s too difficult to feel even remotely at home. I had a moment yesterday when I could see myself living in a place like Mumbai, but by the end of the day, that moment had long faded. Right now, nine weeks here seems like more than enough. Right now, I’m glad to be on the first flight back after the internship ends. Right now, all I can think about in my spare time is:
- Talking to/hearing from Sean, my family
- Sean’s arrival
- Our arrival back in London
- The feeling of showering in my shower, sleeping in my bed, and walking the streets of a very developed world with my best friend and love, as well as my London friends
- Knowing what to expect and where to find things and feeling comfortable being by myself
- A trip back to America in the Fall – right now, home home sounds better than ever
I’m homesick, but I’ll be alright.
Now, I must go shower and try to look presentable for the dinner table. The heat here is intense, and I feel like a sweaty, dusty pig. I love you all and am thinking only of you. I hope you’re all well.