This is straight from my diary. The thing about my diary is that it has my true, unmasked, unedited feelings. It's not that I have been telling a lie on every single blog post, it's just - it's public. So I have to censor myself. Especially as Rotary Youth Exchange Student. You're not supposed to let anyone know what bothers you, or the down side of things. But, I'm feeling gutsy today. You're very lucky that you get access to this.
When I was put in the context of Canadian Nisha with people of more similar cultures, all my old habits came to me easily, even though I hadn't acted this way since the day I left Canada.
Anyway, after driving down the mountain, we stop for lunch at a semi-local restaurant. It's hard to find local anything in tourist towns of developing countries. As we're eating, I notice some French tourists, and they had no idea what they were doing. They had no idea how to eat with their hands, they didn't know what to eat with their chapatti, which I'm sure they just called naan bread. I felt like a huge condescending, culture snob, but it was a boost for my self-esteem. I know how to eat rice with my right hand. I know what to eat with my chapatti. I have a clue of what India is about. I'm not touring this country, (Well, I am right now...) I live here.
I realize that my two main thoughts for this post kinda contradict each other. First thought I'm doing something totally culturally inappropriate, and then the second thought is me being a snob and judging other people because they don't know how to eat like an Indian. I guess I feel justified because I know what I'm doing in culturally wrong? That probably makes things worse... Whatever - I just let you into my deep, dark, true feelings written down on the spot in my diary. Don't judge me!
...
Here are some pictures.
Today was really just seeing the beauty of the mountains. I'm still coughing up a storm, but it was still an enjoyable day. So far during this tour while in public, I have shied away from touching, or rather being touched by the guys. (Those of you who haven't really seen me on a personal level, I am an extremely touchy person with everyone.) I fear what the Indians think of me. I look Indian - and so I feel their stares as I am being touched by the opposite sex. No, the stares are at how I let the opposite sex touch me ( I love Slut-shaming! LOLJK...) When it's two white people touching, Indians just accept it. "Oh those foreigners... They're so weird." I imagine them saying. But with me, I imagine something like "Look at that Indian girl, touching those boys. That slut is bringing shame to her family." Their stares are insults. Of course, I could be reading into this a bit too much. But it affects me at a personal level regardless of what the intent of their stares actually are.
But today, I give into being affectionate in public. I don't care anymore. We were up in the mountains, and I was with people I love. I was me. I was happy. To be so detached from my old habits and then to revisit them is such an interesting feeling. It's like I'm visiting my old self, Nisha the Canadian. Even within the first few days of the tour, I looked back and reflect on how oddly comfortable I am sitting on a boys lap, touching them, not feeling terrible when I'm in public. My inner monologue went something like:
"Whoa...you're sitting on a boys lap. You are extremely close to a boy. That's an old sensation, isn't it? Why is my heart pounding like I'm doing something that I shouldn't? You're heart doesn't need to pound like this, it's ok right now. You're with people who don't think you're a slut. These people know that what you're doing right now is socially acceptable in this context. Who cares what anyone thinks of you?! That's what everyone always says right? But I have to care! I'm on exchange. I didn't come here to be a cultural fool! You shouldn't do things that are Canadian! OH THE CONFLICT."
"Whoa...you're sitting on a boys lap. You are extremely close to a boy. That's an old sensation, isn't it? Why is my heart pounding like I'm doing something that I shouldn't? You're heart doesn't need to pound like this, it's ok right now. You're with people who don't think you're a slut. These people know that what you're doing right now is socially acceptable in this context. Who cares what anyone thinks of you?! That's what everyone always says right? But I have to care! I'm on exchange. I didn't come here to be a cultural fool! You shouldn't do things that are Canadian! OH THE CONFLICT."
Something like this.
When I was put in the context of Canadian Nisha with people of more similar cultures, all my old habits came to me easily, even though I hadn't acted this way since the day I left Canada.
Anyway, after driving down the mountain, we stop for lunch at a semi-local restaurant. It's hard to find local anything in tourist towns of developing countries. As we're eating, I notice some French tourists, and they had no idea what they were doing. They had no idea how to eat with their hands, they didn't know what to eat with their chapatti, which I'm sure they just called naan bread. I felt like a huge condescending, culture snob, but it was a boost for my self-esteem. I know how to eat rice with my right hand. I know what to eat with my chapatti. I have a clue of what India is about. I'm not touring this country, (Well, I am right now...) I live here.
I realize that my two main thoughts for this post kinda contradict each other. First thought I'm doing something totally culturally inappropriate, and then the second thought is me being a snob and judging other people because they don't know how to eat like an Indian. I guess I feel justified because I know what I'm doing in culturally wrong? That probably makes things worse... Whatever - I just let you into my deep, dark, true feelings written down on the spot in my diary. Don't judge me!
...
Here are some pictures.
Say WHAAAAT?
We also went on a little boat ride. It was fun.
Mostly everyone went on an elephant ride. Jordan, Hannah, Baby Jakob
I did not. I was too cold to move. And it was only down the road. Riding an elephant wasn't on my bucket list.
Amanda, Dascha, Franzi
But then we saw wild elephants!
SOOO CUTE!
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