My first weekend

Friday Many people in India do not like Obama because he promises to stop outsourcing and as a result, many of the IT people here will lose their job. Michael’s lab threw a big party to welcome him to the Institute. My PI and I were invited to attend. Every student and doctor in the lab made a ton of food, all of which were perfectly aligned on a table with place cards next to the dishes explaining what they were. Michael was presented with a gorgeous homemade card everyone had signed welcoming him. It was very beautiful and nice, but I couldn’t help wish my lab had done the same for me. Maybe it’s because he’s staying for 7 months and I for 3? At the party everyone, including Dr. Nair the head of the institute, would address Michael first and then ask me the same question, almost as a courtesy. I tried talking louder and asking them questions as well, but it only kind of helped. Whatever fuck ‘em. I’ll show them I am just as interesting and capable of good work, even if it’s in my own female way. I went to a speech on Global Environment day that was held at the institute. Each speaker was first introduced, presented with a bouquet of flowers, and then introduced and humbled himself saying “there was no way he could talk after so many distinguished scientists.” The introductions took half the time of each allotted presentation time. One of the presenters said “I’m sure we’re all very thankful to be getting undressed here.” Tee hee hee. She meant, “addressed.” It was just a little awkward when the slides pointed to the US and how environmental progress stopped with “their” consumption rate. Woops, our bad. I talked to Dr. Chaterjee today about possibly volunteering at the hospital. He said “no” so forcibly I was taken aback. Apparently, (and obviously) it would be a big liability for me to work at the Infectious Disease hospital, and then probably get an infectious disease. It (similar to all hospitals in Kolkata) is incredibly poor and falling apart, has outdated medication and almost no sterlization techniques. I am so disappointed though. That was a major reason I wanted to come on this trip. Honestly, I don’t really like research all that much. I find it frustrating, very laborious, and hard to see the big picture. I crave a salad so bad. Saturday I attempted to do my laundry in a sink. Without a washboard, or a sink stopper. My clothes dried on a clothes line swaying in my room and came out smelling slightly better and a little crunchy from soap residue (I hope?). A really horrible feeling is waking up after a long sweaty night, taking a shower and getting sweaty from the walk from the bathroom to the bedroom, and putting on nice crunchy clothes. Michael and I decided to visit Park Street, which is apparently the nicer part of Kolkata. We didn’t know the bus to get there so we took our first taxi alone. At first the guy, who of course said he couldn’t speak a word of English (but certainly understood when we were debating money at the end) told us through gestures the meter was broken. Michael kept insisting, “no no turn on your meter” which he finally did and SHOCK was working just fine. When we got to the metro gate he told us the price tripled on the meter. Michael insisted very nicely we knew how taxis work and we wouldn’t leave the car until he gave us our change. Which he did and shooed us with his hands. Ha ha ha ha success. We got on the metro which was SOOOO nice but only does one small loop in Kolkata linking North to South (the institute and where we live is in the East). The metro had special seating for “ladies”. Park Street was not nice. It was like the extreme ghetto of New York. I guess I don’t know what I was expecting. We stopped into an Indian/Chinese restaurant (very common) and ordered our first beers. I think I saw a dead man on a side street today. I almost threw up and looked away. I look away a lot. We visited the famous Victorian Memorial, which was sooo boring seeing as I don’t know anything about Victorian history so the pictures were just of a bunch of really old dudes in frills. No connection. But the grounds were pretty. Walking back to the metro we stopped to see a free Indian concert. I couldn’t see much due to lack of height but I sat on a rail and watched everyone else. I am so used to everyone watching me, it was refreshing to sit on the outskirts and watch families and teens relaxing and having fun on their way home from work. We got home and walked around the neighborhood at night. The side streets wind between tall buildings with windows open. We can hear Bengali music and TV and smell Bengali cooking. People are coming home from work with briefcases and food they just picked up from the street. It's so much quieter. Children are pumping water from the wells to wash their faces after running around. I love our neighborhood. Sunday

We had a power outage all Saturday night and barely slept at all from the smothering heat. We woke up all groggy and disoriented and waited in the house all day for the outage to be fixed.

What drives me crazy is my inability to do anything for myself and get out. In most of Kolkata there is no such thing as stores or restaurants or anything you can get away to and sit in. Everything is a counter top on the side of the building or set up on the street. I don't know my way around the city enough to go someplace else, and I don't know of a place if I did. So I'm stuck. Sometimes I get so claustrophobic in this country from inability to get clean, be cool, find food, be understood, find things to do and hear from my loved ones. I want to just say “ok, that was interesting. I’m getting on the plane to come home now.”

We’ve opened all our windows because of the power outage. I’m sitting on a windowsill. I’ve learned to take showers and roll my hair up into a bun still wet so the water will trickle down my neck to keep me cool. There are two crumbling buildings in my view, large water supply wells on top look like they’ll crash through the roofs. As stray dog sniffing around, women hanging up their clothes on a line, fucking loud crows (I hate them so much) and Bengali music—a woman’s voice high and foreign but powerful and emotional.

Still kind of depressed Michael and I watched Waltz with Bashir and then showed each other photos or friends, family and Gainesville on the computer. Bad idea and bad idea.

At night, itching to get out, I went to a cyber cafe. While I was waiting (for an hour, but at least it was air conditioned) I talked to some Kolkata people my age. One was a very nice engineer, and the other two were a punked out couple with tattoos and rancid shirts. At first very surly with their responses, I got them to open up when we talked about music. I asked them what they do for fun and they said the boyfriend DJ's at a local club called The Underground. Am definitely going to check that place out. Once I figure out where it is, how to get there, and get some clothes other than the 4 pairs I've been wearing and wearing again. They're beyond disgusting.