Friday, October 5, 2007

Call Me Auntie.

So I feel I should fill you all in on a few things that have become serious factors of my daily life here in Calcutta, so that you (assuming you are as caucasian as I am) can somewhat know what to expect when you come here. Although after reading this blog, I don't know that any of you will want to come here. Well, you should. All of you.
First off, the Indian people apparently have a deep curiosity of Westerners (i.e White People). It's supposedly not a threatening or hostile curiosity, although occasionally it may seem so. The first and most obvious manifestation of this curiosity is the staring. And this isn't like seeing a really attractive person on the street and staring as they walk by wondering what they would do if you approached them or asked them to take you home with them...this is like...well...ok. Here: this staring is like what people would do upon seeing a 10 foot tall half naked transexual riding in the back of a little red wagon being pulled by a dwarf. Singing showtunes. In Mandarin. In the Pearl District...let's say...10th and Johnson. Do you get my point? I'll assume you get where I'm headed with this (brilliant) analogy. So yes, walking down the streets of Calcutta, no matter where I am, who I'm with or what I'm wearing, I feel like that giant. That naked, transsexual giant (and yes I'm still a woman. It's an analogy. Some slack please.). Granted I am at least 6 inches taller than everybody, but still. I mean jaw-on-the-ground druel-on-the-lip drop-everything-and-watch-this-whitey-walk-by staring. And it freaks me out. If I see eyeballs, I know theyre on me or someone I'm with. Í feel like a circus act. And the men are the worst (but aren't they always?). The women generally avert their gaze when I look at them, but the men just hold eye contact as you walk by. I'm sure it's not meant to be menacing, but the way they stare, it's...well, it's menacing. Like they're hunting. I know this is not their intention, but it feel that way. It's amusing sometimes, but usually it's just bothersome. Of course my first nature is to stare back and make some standoffish (if not slightly witty) comment at them, but I just don't think that would go well here. So I have yet to try it. I just have to be gawked at whenever I'm in public. So much for blending in.
Ok, article two. Indian people that don't speak English fluently love to shout at you in English. Or at least whatever they consider to be English. This basically means that as soon as they see you, you will hear a chorus of "HELLO MADAM GOOD MORNING MADAM HOW MAY I HEP YOU AUNTIE AUNTIE VERY GOOD YES PLEASE!". It's like they're alerting everyone within earshot that there's a Westerner on this street and she's headed your way! So get ready to stare. Thanks for blowing my cover, guys. Appreciated.
The best line I've gotten so far was yesterday when another (very white) girl and I were walking home from the market and we passed a small hole-in-the-wall shop with about 4 men inside of it and as we passed one of them yelled: ''ARE YOU A FAMILY MEMBER?!!"
I was super impressed. And laughed like an idiot all the way home. Yes my dear friend, I am a member of a family. But not yours I'm sad to say. Kind of.
Oh and they call every white woman ''Auntie''. I'll be expecting that from all of you when I return home.
Ok, the next topic of importance while living in Calcutta is your personal hygiene. Forget everything you know about cleaning yourself. Being clean in Calcutta is a very different thing than being clean in Portland, or most anywhere else in the world for that matter. First of all, you will smell. All the time. As soon as you can accept that fact your time here will be much more pleasureable. I know mine has been. So yes, basically if you can imagine the smell of one of the largest, poorest and dirtiest cities on this planet and then translate that to your own body, you have some idea of what living here is like. The streets smell like urine, you smell like urine. The streets smell like diesel, you smell like diesel. Simple! The streets smell like human feces, rotting food, rotting flesh, cooking food, cooking flesh, heat, oil, B.O, engine, camphor, and curry and you do too! It's quite the medley. I can't remember not smelling all the time. And I shower on average 3 times a day. Lord. I can smell myself now. Brings a tear to my eye. In a very pungent way. But really, smelling like ass isn't so bad, because everyone smells like ass, so you're never really sure if it's you or the 95 year old beggar woman lying on the sidewalk you just walked by. I give myself the benefit of the doubt.
The only other hygienic issue is the sweat (that's such a lie but whatever). Also forget everything you ever learned about sweating being in any way related to physical activity. You sweat when you sleep, when you breathe, when you take a piss. You sweat when you're cold. You just sweat. All the time. I swear to god my fingernails sweat hear. Fucking ridiculous.
Those are pretty much the top things I feel I should tell you about when coming to Calcutta. And that's it's awesome in a very dirty, loud, impoverished, 3rd world, stinking-like-shit sort of way. It is fascinating.
What's more, I started working this week. I actually am more like a factory worker than an overseeer. I work for a handicrafts company and sit in a tiny room with 8 former prostitutes and bind books and pretend to speak Bengali while I sing David Bowie songs in my head. I really can feel my hard work drawing this country out of it's impoverished state. Ha. It's pretty fun actually. If any of you has seen the documentary film "Born Into Brothels", that's where I work. In the red light district of Calcutta. I work about a block away from where it was filmed I think. So that's cool. And I'm learning to bind books.
A group of us are hoping to get to Darjeeling soon, and I'm currently thinking about trying to drop out of the program a week early to do a bit more travelling in December. I've decided I have to get to Rishikesh, the yoga capital of the universe. And to Bhodgaya, where the Bodhi tree that Buddha sat under is. Did I mention I'm a goddamned hippy? Just so we're clear.
Love to all,
Auntie Kate

2 comments:

What I Ate Where said...

Lordy: Feel them emotions! And also, I saw the new Wes Anderson movie, "Darjeeling Limited" the other day, and it was so good, and I thought, yes, wow, there is where my Kato be. Love, Adrian

Maggie said...

my sister once punched an indian dude in the face when he grabbed her ass in a crowd. that's basically my favorite story of hers from india. heh... not that I recommend it.