Experiment Hell Week

My experiment was so disastrous it needed it's own soundtrack of prat falls and canned laughter.

My experiment: Grow lab cultured vibrio in a dialysis tube w/ filtered pond water, incubate the tube in a bucket of pond water and test infectivity of mice using 5 different incubation periods and 4 different lakes.

Moumita, Michael and I set out early Tuesday morning to collect lake water. We wanted to collect water from 5 ft below surface so the surface rainwater doesn't affect pH, salinity etc. I made a contraption to connect the centrifuge tubes to a 5 ft stick and carried jugs "sterilized" by my constant scrubbing with ethanol.

Besides the crowd that formed to watch a little white girl reach into their pond going "Eew Eew Eew Eew" the first collection was completed without a hitch. The second we found the bank to be too shallow to collect from 5 ft so I asked some kids playing in the water to dive down and fill up my tubes for me. I don't know how I am going to write this up in my experimental procedure. "...and then I made these little Indian children collect my water samples." I gave them 10 ruppees, which I found later could have gotten me in trouble with the communist government.

The next lake we collected on this Indiana Jones style, rickety, babmoo suspension bridge. I'm on my stomach, leaning over when it starts to pour rain. I was waiting for Angelina Jolie to sweep down from the heavens. The 4th lake we had to finagle in the pouring rain for this guy to collect water for us. I may have lied and said we were testing the lake for Cholera. I never knew science could be so full of deciet and adventure.

To filter the pond water I had to use these 5 ml syringes. It took 3 hours and a self diagnosis of carpal tunnel to filter all the water. It's funny that I thought I could pick time points--as if I have that much control over anything. The time points adjusted to when the stars aligned and I could culture the vibrio fast enough to put it in the dialysis tubes. We ran out of dialysis tube clips, so we had to painstakingly seal them with thread.

The mice arrived a day earlier than expected. These 20 little pink wrigling squeaky things with no eyes or ears. AND no mother. We forgot to order the mother. "Just put another mother in there and as long as she's lactating she'll feed them." I turned around for 2 seconds and the mother was in the corner eating one of my time points err... mice. Fuck. Fuuuuck. "You're going to have to take them home and feed them milk through the night every 4 hours through a syringe."

I did behavioral work in my previous lab for a year. Hours spent alone in an animal room running the mice through drills. I would come out every day smelling like them. I was the crazy mouse woman. They're baaaack.

The mice shook the whole way home. I tried pressing an earphone playing Fiona Apple to the box--it always makes me feel calmer. But who knows--they're mice. I was a real happy camper at 4 am blearily and patiently waiting until 19 mice had their fill of milk. Only one died over the night! I should consider switching species.

By the next late night (still in lab at 10pm) I was ready to innoculate them 2 more had died. Then the news came that their would be a transportation strike the next day. THe most important day of my experiment. I went through my options: Staying at a hotel near the institute would be too expensive, the guest houses were being renovated, I couldn't hire a driver because there would be no way for the driver to reach the car without a bus, so I could walk the 15 km to the institute. And I'm not even getting paid. Exhausted in the taxi ride home late at night I forgot my bag in the car losing: my cell phone, books, GRE flash cards, my glasses, deoderant etc etc etc.

All night I worried about my mice and the experiment and grieved my lost things. When I woke, it only took an hour of walking before a private bus took me the rest of the way. When I saw the mice I almost started crying. 2 more mice had died and 6 mice had rubbed off their markings (I had marked each mouse with PERMANENT marker to represent an individual time point and lake.) SO I could only use 8, out of 20.

The results were decent, they showed an obvious trend correlating longer incubation periods with less infectivity. Similar to literature results. But with only 8 samples it all means zilch. Remember that joke about the mathematician, physicist, and the statistician trying to put out a fire and the statistician created more fires so she could have more data points to analyze the situation? I have to repeat the experiment with many more fires. Then maybe I'll jump into one.

Last Weekend

Saturday I was still recovering from being sickish but completely anxious about staying in bed another day. And the thought of more Tom Hanks. When we got a call in the morning formally inviting us to a dinner with Dr. Nair at the Calcutta Club I made it my daily goal to pull it together and go out to dinner looking gorgeous in a Sari. 45 minutes of multiple internet videos on how to put on a Sari later and I looked like a mummy. I’m blaming it on the fact my Sari still has it’s blouse piece in it, which I have yet to cut out and give to a seamstress to make, so the Sari is an awkward length. I was going to give up but my mom e-yelled at me that it was a formal dinner and I better go looking nice. So I wrapped the Sari around my head and went downstairs to the Ladies Beauty Parlor. They all laughed and took immediate action, a few tucks, pleats, safety pins, and 30 ruppees later (approx 75 cents) and I was an Indian again. Michael and I met Dr. Ganguly and his wife and went to the club. The Calcutta Club is a British Colonial era country club. Huge leather sofas and big mahogany antique tables and basically composed of numerous sitting rooms. The membership is no longer British but almost 100% old fancified Bengali people. We met Dr. Nair and his wife, their friend Maya, and an old student of Dr. Nair's. For 2 hours before dinner we sat in lounge chairs and drank wine (and in my case fresh lime soda.) Maya talked about the work she does with widowed women and prostitutes (both are equally outcast in society). Now her work is entirely devoted to helping the destitute from Hurricane Isla. Hurricane Isla affected over 300,000 people in South Bengal, wiping out mud homes and killing all crops and livestock with the saltwater. Almost two months later people are still dying from starvation every day. And if that isn’t fire and brimstone enough, the waters have brought mountains of scorpions and snakes and the tigers are leaving the forest out of starvation and are literally eating people every day. None of this is on the news in this communist propaganda country. The government says it’s getting cleaned up and people are living normally again. Maya, whose small NGO is just drowning in the wake of the waters, went to the government to ask for money. She is an NGO, they said, and gets money from foreigners. She doesn’t need their money. Maya was brilliant telling this story. She was emphatic and funny and cried at the right moments. She reminded me of my grandmother, who won’t give in to wrinkles and Velcro shoes, but instead still puts on her makeup and gold and does her hair and outfit every day. She explained to me the excitement behind an arranged marriage. How you peek at him around the curtain. You dream about him and shake the first time you’re introduced. You know you’ll have a lot in common because he is from the same social background and culture as you. And then your wedding day, and you peek behind your veil and finally get to know him. And you fall in love. Good story, but I’ll still like to know how my Romeo takes his coffee before till death do us part. Dinner was a huge buffet of Indian goodness. I like buffets here because you can take exactly as much as you want and don't get the evil eye for not finishing everything on your plate. After dinner Dr. Nair took Michael and I to the club bakery to pick out delicious morsels for breakfast. He bought us ample muffins and also a beautiful chocolate arrangement. Sunday Feeling a lot better, I woke up and started one of my Sunday adventures, just me and Kolkata and the subway. 

I went to park street and sat in this nice little air-conditioned café, had a sandwich, a huge delicious coffee and a mango smoothie. I made my way to see the Kali temple at Kalighat. As soon as I approached the temple I was hounded with priests asking to take me around. I knew the drill, they show you around, you pay. But I was willing and I’m glad I did. He showed me the fertility tree which was barren of fruit itself but young woman tied stones onto its branches in the hopes of becoming pregnant. He showed me the disgustingly smelly stone slab used for goat sacrifice where he promised once Kali had her fill, the meat was given to the poor. He took me to the very holy spring Kalighat, where the temple got its name. People bathe in the pool (along with randomly floating plastic bags and I’m sure lots of cholera) every morning as a ritual. The priest whipped out a “guest book” where the same handwriting had different people’s names and their very generous donations of $2000 ruppees (appx $40 ha ha yeah right). I gave my donation of $100 ruppees and when I told him I work at the ID Hospital working to find a cure for cholera and he gave me some of my money back. Then a bunch of crows shit on me. All over me. Karma? I braved through the poop and made my way to the famous and still active Mother Theresa house for the dying. Just cots and cots of gnarled bodies and blank hollow faces staring at the ceiling waiting for death. The volunteers sat by them and tried to assuage their pain and moans with kindness. I asked how I can volunteer and will try to as soon as I get back from Rajasthan. 

 I leave for Rajasthan in 8 hours (4am)!! I haven’t updated much this week because I have been completely swamped with an intense experiment all week. The experiment was like a Monty Python skit of difficulties. I’ll update about it while I’m in Rajasthan. Wish me luck!!!

Our plan for our trip to Rajasthan

So here's what we're planning (Michael and I) for our 8 day trip to Rajasthan. We leave this Saturday and come back the following Sunday night. This was as dictated excitedly online in a gmail chat:

We leave in a plane on Sat from Kolkata to Jaipur, the capitol of Rajasthan (so the flights were cheapest) and a place we don't reallly care to visit.

We'll get there at 10am and kinda chill, check into our hotel, explore the city, and spend the night

Then the next day we'll either take a 2am train to Agara or a 6:10 am train to Agrara

it'll depend on how we feel

but we kind of want to get to Agara early to see the Taj Mahal before tourists get there, hence the 2am train

Then Sunday we'll chill at the Taj Mahal until like 11pm and then take an overnight train to JodhpurJodhpur is this really bustling cool city filled with old forts and peasant desert folk. Real city life in the desert.

We'll spend Monday there and then take an overnight train (11pm) to Jaislemer

Jaiselmer is the really fucking best, it's the whole reason i want to go to Rajasthan

Its a city in the middle of the desert filled with beautiful old forts and Raja palaces

it is compeltely in the Thar deserrt

and the culture there is seemingly unreal

So we'll get there at 5am on Tuesday and spend all day there and check into a hotel and spend the night

Then on Wednesday we're going to go on a Camel Safari!

And spend the night in the desert

in a tent

so then Thursday all day in Jaiselmer again

and then take a train in the afternoon back to Jodhpur

and then another train to Mt. Abu

Mt abu is this gorgeous lush town on a mountain with good teas and good places to eat etc

and cool jungles to explore

we thought it would be a nice way to end the whirlwind of a trip

ok so Friday we'll get to Mt abu at like noon and spend the day there and spend the night there in a hotel

Then on Saturday we'll spend another day there, and then at night take an overnight train back to Jaipur

then Sunday our flight out of Jaipur is at night

so we can explore the city or whatever until our flight has to leave

It's going to be sooo fucking crazy

needless to say we're telling lab that we're taking off Monday to recoup

The wedding

Tuesday Me, Moumita, and Obeshekda’s wife marched into the lab bathroom with a million bags and lined them all up against the sink mirror. My saree is gorgeous, silk and heavy. I put on some pants, and the Sari blouse (which feels like a corset) and let them drape me with the Sari. Pleats were made, parts were tucked in, safety pins were pinned. It was so confusing. Then I did my hair in a bun and Moumita gave me jewelry to put in it and earrings. I did my makeup and became an Indian. For the rest of the night, people would comment that I looked just like a Punjaby (North) Indian and couldn’t take enough pictures of me. 

 All 8 of us piled into an SUV (the trunk space was converted into seats) and made the very bumpy journey back to Shobroto’s village (stopping only once to take tea). When we arrived (after everyone finished taking more pictures of me and Michael) we were ushered right upstairs to eat. Oh it was delicious. Fresh Salad, fried chicken things, Mutton biryani, Mattar Paneer, Aloo Masala, ice cream, chutney, these balls of dough I forgot the name of, seriously, there were 10 courses. My sari got sooooo tight. After, my lab mates stood up, and thanked Shobroto for the meal and said THEY HAD TO GET GOING!! Apparently, some people had to get home at 9:30, and the ride was 2 and a half hours, so that only left 1 hour at the wedding. Completely missing the ceremony! Michael and I voiced our concern and a plan was figured out for us where we would go home with Shobroto’s roommates back to Kolkata at midnight. Back upstairs at the wedding Shobroto’s mother welcomed me back into her arms, very tightly, and I was given a seat right next to the bride’s throne. The bride was covered in gold from her nose to her feet. Every inch of her was decorated. The ceremony lasted well over 5 hours with each ritual even more precise than the last. The bride was finally taken over to the groom, carried on a large chair, her face covered in leaves. The tradition of her lifted in a chair towards the groom was created when the brides were so young and scared to see their grooms for the first time they needed to be carried there. She removed the leaf and looked into her new husband’s eyes for conceptually the first time. This however was a love marriage (not arranged), so they had courted for a little over a year. A large white sheet was placed over the couple as they ceremoniously placed flower garlands over each other’s necks. I was surprised at how irreverent the whole ceremony was. During the less glamorous parts of the ceremony people talked, ate, and drank loudly. Sometimes forgetting anything was going on at all and walking right through it! During other parts, they pressed their way getting closer to the bride than the groom. The groom was placed before a fire they built (indoors!), his hair wrapped in a turban, and he bent over the flames while holy men chanted over him. The place filled with smoke and got me quite nauseated. After the ceremony was over, the bride and groom were escorted into a guest room and fed their dinners. They talked quietly on the bed but were still completely surrounded by family. But really, when is an actual marriage reverent, quiet and solitary? I know in my family, it took 3 days to shake people from our house before we could get Fiona (my little sister) to ourselves. The marriage ceremony was a lot more real. As is much of Indian culture. Shobroto’s roommates finally showed up, but the car had broken down and was in the town car shop, so they figured they’d just keep eating until it was fixed. I had up until this point been putting off going to the bathroom in dread of undoing my Sari. But I was so desperate. Annnnd I was right. I absolutely couldn’t put the Sari back on. I stood there, in this filthy stall filled with smoke, which was only barely sectioned off from the rest of the room, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. I opened the door and beckoned for the nearest woman. She started cracking up when she saw me and her and her sister wrapped me all back up. 10 of us packed into an SUV and sped through the dark dirt roads back to Kolkata. The men sat with their arms around each other singing whatever hip-hop Bengali songs came on the crackling radio. I sat in the back with the windows open. The night passed with mud huts and patti fields. God where the fuck am I? I could have been in Uganda, Sri Lanka, Sierra Leone. We stopped to chase stray dogs from their sleep in the center of the street. The smoke and the loud singing, and the rollercoaster of a ride made me very sick. The tire blew and we stopped on the EM bypass to change it. The EM bypass, always smothered by cars and noise was vacant. Not a person in sight. The men got out and took pictures in the middle of the rode making crazy poses. I was going to puke. We got home at 3:30. Wednesday I went into lab late under the circumstances. I designed a new experiment where I will collect different lake waters in Kolkata, grow laboratory vibrio strains in them and test the vibrio infectivity on an infant mouse model. After work I went to New Market to haggle myself a new money bag (my current one broke.) I stopped to take pictures at a Union Strike. I shared a coke and dinner with some Australians in the area. I’m such a big shot. With my head bobbing and hand eating skills. With my apartment in Shontosphur. “Oh you’re staying here for 3 days? I’m here for 3 months, I’m researching cholera.” I realized my internet usb connector works anywhere in India. I chatted online during the taxi ride home. “Oh Kevin, I have to go, someone without hands is knocking his head against my window asking for money.” Thursdsay A very productive work day. OR SO I THOUGHT. Then at around 6pm we got a news report that there will be a strike the next day. I was told not to even attempt to come into work. The opposing political party would actively try and oppose the strike. If I went out, I could be mistaken as an opposition. It could, I was told, get very ugly. I should go home, stock up on food, and not leave the house until 6pm when the strike was over. In the meantime I got to throw out all of my experiments from the day—the would all go bad over the time I was not in lab. Disgruntled from a loss of work I told my taxi driver to take me to the South City Mall please! One of the (if not the) biggest malls in India, the South City mall was 3 stories high and packed with stores. I feel almost guilty saying that it was probably the equivalent of only a slightly higher end mall in America. But but but I was completely thrilled and felt indulgent. I went to the food court and bought a pizza loaded with vegetables and ate myself silly. It was bad, duh, but I really didn’t care. Then I went to FAME the movie theater. I figured, this could be my cultural experience for the day—The Movies are almost as important as temples here. It was coincidentally the opening day for Harry Potter so the lines were long. Seeing Harry Potter was the theater to be in I bought one ticket. A large screen is presented to you when you buy your ticket and you actually pick your exact seat. The seats in the front are more expensive and are leather recliners. The concession stands sold gelato, corn and samosas. I got a chocolate gelato and took my seat. The seats were plush and reclined. Before the movie, everyone stood facing the screen, hand to their heart, and sang the National Anthem. No shit. Throughout the movie ballpark style concession sellers sold French fries and Pepsi to the audience. The lights came on in the middle of the movie—Intermission. I thought it was brilliant. It made you appreciate the movie experience more and concession sales I’m sure doubled. When I got home Michael was very sick, and said he didn’t think he could travel to Rajasthan Friday but said we could play it by ear—our tickets could be easily exchanged for another date up until 2 hours before our flight. Being sick on our trip would be horrible as we’re planning a whirlwind of a tour with desert stays and more nights than not on the train. Friday I slept in very late, which at first I thought was due to the complete quiet in the streets due to the strike. But when I woke up I felt like my head was going to explode, had chills, was weak, muscle aches and a fever. We rescheduled the Rajasthan trip for the following Saturday and instead I watched a Tom Hanks marathon and went back to sleep. My lichen planus has become obscenely bad. Anyone who reads this blog a dermatologist? News report. Mom, don’t read this part: (This was from the day before the strike.) India (Country threat level - 3): On 16 July 2009 violent protests erupted in Kolkata and other areas of West Bengal state after members of the Communist Party of India-Marxist (CPM) allegedly attacked senior leaders of the state branch of the Indian National Congress who were visiting a village in Bardhaman district, which is located approximately 60 mi/100 km northwest of Kolkata. Congress supporters set several buses on fire and attacked taxis throughout the state, including in the Minto Park and Gariahat areas of south Kolkata and the districts of Howrah, North 24 Barganas and Murshidabad. Protesters blocked major roads, highways and railways throughout the state. Police officers clashed with protesters in several areas; at least one protester died and several others were injured. The Congress party announced that it will hold a statewide bandh -- a type of general strike in which all business activity and transportation is shut down -- from 0600 to 1800 local time on 17 July. Travelers should expect major transportation disruptions. Travelers should monitor local developments and avoid any areas where protests are occurring The day of the strike there were more bus bombings and taxi attacks. No one was killed, but many were injured.

Shanteniketan

Friday I came into work expecting to go on a field study annnd instead got a message saying the doctors were too busy and had to reschedule. I was so upset I almost started to cry. When I asked the head doctor the day before if I could stay in the clinic longer, he was very vague and said he didn’t know. Then when I asked what time we should meet in the morning, again he was very illusive. I think I blew it. Somehow. I treated myself by taking myself out for lunch. Michael and I are going to Rajasthan this Saturday for a week! We’ve barely planned at all, except for my request to spend some time in the desert. I’m ridiculously excited. Saturday Michael, Moumita, Sreerupa, and two new people from the Immunology department Tonmoi (a man) and Kritika (a woman) boarded a train to Shanteniketan to see the University Tagore created. The train flew by the country and we sat 3 in a row pressed against the windy window. 

 Kritika and Tonmoi were hilarious, very modern and down to earth. They took turns teaching us bad words in Bengali. The train was a circus of entertainment, devastation food and drink. Men passed with huge boiling kettles of milk with the rhythmic calling “coffee, cha, cha, cha, coffee, coffee, cha, cha, cha, coffee!” Men sold towels, and little snacks they concocted in cup and then poured into newspaper for you to eat. Men played music for money and danced. I liked my group. We tasted and listened to everything. Then there were the children. Who sang and then put their hand on my knee and held out their hand “please ma’am please” they were barely audible and very weepy. 

 But it was Michael who they really hounded. If you looked around after giving money, they were busy fighting with each other, laughing and counting the money. They all deserve Oscars. The hermaphrodites came up to your seats and clapped their hands really loud. I was warned of them earlier, if you don’t give them money they can get violent. But no one moved me like the blind. I gave them all money every time. The hotel was beautiful and pink. There were two people per room, but most of the time everyone was in mine and Moumita’s room. We had a quick Bengali lunch of Dal, vegetables, chicken and rice. Which I am so over. And then got into our bike rickshaws we rented for the day and drove to a marketplace. 

 Unlike Kolkata shopping, this was hassle free and completely gorgeous and enjoyable. Musicians and shopkeepers spread out on blankets in a huge field. We ate ice cream as we listened to the tingling music of this one band. When he hit this one note—damn. I felt it in my soul. Needless to say, I bought a cd. All of the shop owners were from Shanteniketan and made all of their items. I’m such a sucker for authenticity and a story. We moved beyond the blankets and explored a huge farmland expanse. I needed it. Kolkata drives me a little crazy. We stood under a tree and screamed at the top our lungs. 

We chased ducks and jumped streams careful not to land in the cow patties. We took the rickshaws deeper into the country and stopped at a mud hut village. Men cutting bamboo, women pumping well water, children darting in and out of their mud huts. 

Everyone is guarded until you smile, then you are surrounded by smiles. We got back to the hotel and had mixed fried rice and mutton for dinner. So full and tired we all lounged/crowded onto my bed and watched Bengali tv. I had promised Tanmoi I would show them all a dance sometime during the weekend—thinking he and everyone else would forget. But they didn’t and demanded a dance. “Just make up something in your head to whatever music we put on.” Ok! I did a few numbers of belly dance, it was awkward, they loved it, and I demanded for other people to entertain the rest of us. Sreeerupa sang, Kritika did a traditional Indian dance and Michael Beat Boxed. The rest of the night I would catch little conservative Moumita trying to Beat Box with a completely concentrated face. At night, Moumita and I lay on our pillows and talked about her “ideal” man. I highly recommended the doctor from the Field Study. Sunday/Monday In the morning, (after they prayed at a Kali temple we passed) we took a car to see the University Tagore created. It was a vast campus with tons of banyon trees and many of its classes held outside. The students ranged from pre-school to PHD and all wore a yellow garb. Everyone made fun of me but I read Gitanjali the entire time to get into it. Anyway it worked, and I felt the magic of his words translate to his school and wanted to give it all up and join them. But instead got on the train to come back home. On the Train ride home Kritkika and I talked about our boyfriends (the first woman I’ve seen with one!) We were right on the same page until she asked “so when are you going to two going to get married?” And BAM I was back in India. Shubrutu’s sister’s wedding is Tuesday so Moumita helped me buy (back in Kolkata) an incredibly gorgeous Saree to wear and a blouse to go with it. Today we got the blouse fitted and bought earrings to go with it. We went to the Ladies Parlour downstairs (from my apartment) and had our eyebrows threaded and nails painted for 50 cents. The Ladies Parlor consisted of two chairs and beauticians who would do whatever you wanted. I made sure to tell Moumtia to tell them I live just upstairs. I’m sure I’ll be seeing them again. 

Field Study

Wednesday/Thursday I began my field study. We drove in a car caravan of doctors to the outposts located at different slums in Kolkata. First we visited some of the slum homes. 24 people lived in quarters the size of my living room. They all shared the same squat toilet, siphoned the same water from the rusty pipe sticking out of the concrete floor (but the water only came on 3 times a day) and cooked their meals on that very same floor. 

 Almost all of the patients we visited either were recovering from or previously had cholera. I felt such a strong connection to the women and children we visited. Many with skin lesions and cross eyes would peek around their scarves to look at me like curious woodland creatures. When I brought out my camera, they all ran away, but when I surrendered the clicker hands up, they came creeping back, babies first. I took a picture of the house and showed it to them. And then a few more. Soon all the women and children were back wanting me to take a picture of them and then show them on the LCD screen. The trick was to take a second picture 2 seconds after the first, when they started laughing from the novelty.

 After when I asked them (with the help of a translator) about their medical history and treatment, they gladly offered their answers. The cholera vaccine is in phase 3 of its development. A phase that requires the testing on thousands of patients. The clinics set the double blind study up giving every patient that came in the vaccine (half were placebos) regardless of ailment, treated whatever they came in for, and then followed their progress over 3 years. The patients they see have every kind of ailment under the sun: Cholera, Dengue, Malaria, Tuberculosis and Leprosy are just a few. India is one of the few countries in the world that still has Polio. MDR (multiple disease resistance) is a huge and deadly problem because the pharmacists give many antibiotics without prescription and then people feel better and stop taking the medicine. Many of the patients don’t understand why they have to give blood or take the vaccine. The doctors bribe them by giving out gifts to every patient. To get the neighborhoods to trust them, they paid for the repaving of many of the slum roads. They still have problems with Muslim women not wanting to be touched by any doctor (male or female) and the doctors unfortunately have given up on many of these women saying “we have enough patients, if they don’t come in then that’s their problem.” The outpost clinics consist of an old computer, a few cases of vials of medicine, a crumbling examination table with makeshift curtain (some have no curtain) and way too many people. I sat with a beautiful doctor in his mid twenties who was doing a separate project, taking blood samples from dengue patients to try and find a vaccine, and talked with him. Actually, it was more like me asking a million questions a second and him graciously answering. I watched him take blood from a woman and process the blood with only thin plastic cafeteria gloves. Her baby was given to a male staffer and looked petrified. I wanted to hold that baby. I wanted to do anything. The time we spend out on the field is only a few hours a day—everyone is afraid I will catch a disease if I stay any longer. It’s so frustrating. When I’m in the clinic all of the troubles of India just vanish. This is worth it. I could do this every day all day for the rest of my life. So what if I get sick? I’m an American they can fix me. Let me stay here, watch more, work here. Maybe that’s a boldness from my undeveloped frontal cortex. And in reality it’s probably selfish of me to want to stay, when I can’t really help, and if I did get sick those doctors could get in big trouble and maybe lose their funding. But regardless the outposts make sense to me. One of the few things in India that does.

Henna and Imambara

Sunday After a lazy day of catching up on sleep, Moumita picked Michael and I up to go to Gariahat with the sole purpose of getting Henna on my hands. On the street I saw a woman give me a double take, not uncommon, but realized it was Jyodi the girl I met on the bus! We talked for a while, I introduced her to Moumita, and we exchanged emails since Michael’s phone was stolen. It was night, and we stopped under a lit cluster of chairs on the sidewalk. I looked up a design in a book and two men took each hand and rapidly made the design spread to both underside and top of my hand to mid arm. So cool. I feel like a pretty pretty princess. 

 Except now my watch looks really out of place, so I took it off. Not knowing the time is not only going to take a toll on my sanity, but my lab co-workers (the lab has no timers) always ask me to time experiments—most do not have watches of their own. edit:: Practicality won over vanity and I now wear my black swiss army watch over my henna.  Monday/Tuesdsay Dr. Duran came from the HHMI program at UF to check up on Michael and I and see how we were doing. We took off Tuesday to show Dr. Duran around. Even though we left an hour early to meet the driver and car hired by the Institute, in typical Indian fashion, we were still an hour late to pick Dr. Duran up at his hotel. We rushed to a meeting with the head of Fullbright Scholars in India. After introducing our projects and ourselves, we were asked to participate in helping mentor Fullbright Scholars from India. Before we left, Michael and I were invited to attend a cultural performance at the center the following night. Back in the cab and after a quick stop to grab sandwiches and delicious delicious non instant coffee at Barrista (the Starbucks of India), we made our way on the winding 2 hour road out of Kolkata into the town of Hooghly. In the car ride, besides of course looking out at the emotionally beautiful Indian countryside, I was able to pick Dr. Duran’s brain on graduate school and Public Health Programs. He gave me invaluable advice, contact people and encouragement. Just last year I would never have been able to put myself out there like that, asking for help from such an important person. But I’ve grown a lot, and maybe it’s India, but I know what I want now and the dream has solidified into a very real goal. The first sight we visited was a church built in the 1500s. We climbed to the roof and lit candles. Even the Christian church had a sense of Hindu culture to it, everything was out in the open air, even the altars had windows that were not smothered in stained glass. We sat in the garden and discussed our impressions of the trip so far and what we think could improve further student trips. It was nice to hear Dr. Duran legitimize some of my feelings of loneliness and displacement. We are the first students to go on this trip and it was very much up to us to pave the way. Then our driver, who at this point had become a friend, negotiated a boat ride to the famous Imambara mosque. In the boat, we passed Indian cowboys herding and washing their cows through the Ganges. The cows would swim and the men would hold onto the cows or even ride them. Of course, my camera died in my bag. The mosque was like an abandoned palace: gorgeous faded murals, crumbing pillars, a dark hall saturated with low multicolored chandeliers. I covered my head with my Dupatta (salwar scarf) and took off my shoes. When the huge belltower would chime, pigeons would circle up out of their perches and cover the sky. I went up the million stairs in the minaret (ladies side of course) and passed the large bells and up to the tip of the tower; I could see all of India. If the stairs hadn’t already taken my breath away the view would have punched it out of me. Back in Kolkata Dr. Duran picked up his handmade suits on Park Street. So, if anyone wants a customized tailored suit for $100, send me your measurements. For dinner, we went to a highly recommended restaurant Peter Cat and found it eh. Just after we dropped Dr. Duran off, I had a little panic attack. I couldn’t believe he was leaving to go home and I was still here in this dark and confusing country for another 5 weeks. I love India but the time here is very trying and difficult. The intensity of feelings passed but the residue still lingers.

Temples along the Ganges

Saturday Moumita and I took the long and bumpy bus ride to see the temples that line the Ganges River. At noon when we arrived, all the temples were closed. So we sat by the riverbank, drank cha and watched people bathing in, throwing flowers into, and worshipping the Ganges. 

 We took lunch at a house near the Kali temple. We sat on a long mat side by side other worshippers (all men) and were ladled food from large metal buckets. Moumita told me I had to finish everything on my plate as a sign of respect. I waddled out of the house ready for a nap—we hadn’t even begun. We packed onto a very simple wooden boat and went down the Ganges river toward a Ramakrishna mission. 

 All along the river, people climbed down steps leading directly into the water, bathed, and washed their clothes. Little boys dove down to catch the coins people threw for good luck. When we reached the mission, we were still too early so we sat on the steps and ate a very bitter fruit covered in Indian spices out of a newspaper cup. It started to storm and everyone crammed into this little atrium. But I stood out on the steps under an umbrella and watched the river be broken up by the rain. When it stopped, we walked to the gates and took off our shoes. All of the temples had large windows that looked out onto the Ganges. Monks and disciples walked around and families sat on the beautiful grounds in humble silence. It was the most beautiful place I’ve seen in Kolkata yet. We crossed the river once more and head to the Kali temple. Kali, or the destroyer, is the god most worshipped by Kolkata. It is said, one day when Kali was fighting with demons, she lost her pinky finger and it fell in Kolkata. Before we could enter the temple, Moumita had to buy a puja (worship) basket. It consisted of sweets, fresh flowers and incense. The Kali temple was packed and we pushed our way to the window. Inside a scary Kali (with decapitated heads in hand and blood dripping from tongue) was covered in flowers. Men would stick their head out the window and take the puja baskets. “My name’s Moumita,” she said over the crowd and a man roughly threw some flowers at the statue mumbled “Moumita,” handed the basket back to her and rushed her to move on. It was very spiritual and personal. :-p It reminded me of confession. Next to the temple a large hall of people sang worship songs accompanied by sitar. Back on the riverbank, we walked through a market and saw Monkeys just chilling. I almost hit my head when I lay down for the night I was so tired.

Week Posts

Thursday The night before, the caretaker of our building brought a woman before Michael, making sweeping gestures with his hand saying “clean for you?” The next morning the woman came back, not knowing a word of English, and managed to convey pretty clearly she couldn’t clean if we didn’t have things for her to clean with. Woops. We are still so young in so many ways. This city gets me kind of crazy. Drivers have a switch on their dashboard to blow the car horn constantly so their fingers don’t get tired. Everyone and everything is so dirty and pissed off looking. I miss the village. We have this one calculator in lab. Its very small and solar powered, with a push pad not buttons. When working with light sensitive chemicals, we turn the light off. Then we have no calculator. We have to take the calculator out in the hall to use it. Something really disturbing has been going on in lab. I have noticed people dumping out their vibrio cholerae cultures right into the sink, which leads right into the lake. It’s shocking. Not wanting to disrespect the older students, (which is everyone—I’m at LEAST 4 years younger than everyone in the lab) I’ll tell them that I can wash their dishes and make a big flourish of adding Lysol and letting the flasks sit first. Maybe they’ll learn? If I see it again, I will say something. As I previously mentioned, I added a second project to my workload. Now I don’t have a single second in lab to think or eat or breathe. It’s so fun. However that means my blog updating, and GRE studying have been suffering. Oh well. Instead, I’m running around the lab isolating RNA at the same time as I am making bile concentrations. Doing an RT PCR at the same as I am making up new cultures. Doing a PCR from the results at same time I am running the gel from another PCR. All while watching and taking notes as Moumita does the fusion PCR. It’s delicious. My taxi driver asked me to take him to America. “I love Jesus,” he promised. Many people have asked me “Is India changing your life?” It really is. But not in a “Eureka!” type way. It’s been slow and beneath the surface. But I’ll never be the same. Friday Instead of talking to Sir about traveling, I went to ask if I could have time off to go help those in South India devastated from Hurricane Isla. A team (unbeknownst to me) from the institute went 2 weeks ago and maybe next time I could join them. While repeating he really appreciated the thought and motivation, I would never in a million years be allowed to go on a relief trip—I am way too young. However, I definitely need to travel and told me to take off a whole week of lab! He then proceeded to plan the entire trip, revolving around Delhi. I do not want to go to Delhi to see an even bigger city with even more “sites.” I do not care to go to Agara to see the Taj Mahal. No interest. I want to go somewhere completely different. Where like the village, I’ll be able to absorb the culture from the people, not from the attractions. And have decided to go to Rajasthan. I haven’t told Sir. The other students in the lab collectively decided I was a very fast and efficient scientist. They can’t believe how much I get done in a day. Every time anyone mentions doing a task, they’ll say, “you better have Chelsea help you, she’s faster than you.” They’re so blunt. I was told by two people “Michael has acclimated to India so much better than you.” What does that EVEN mean? I’ve had a growing revelation that I want to become an OBGYN. Women have been such an integral part of my life—they’ve raised me, taught me, understood me. And I understand them. The women I’ve met here have taught me more about India than weeks of living here. They’re full of pain and neglect. They give up every part of themselves for their children. Their looks and body language are universal. Child perched on swaying hips, eyes wary, feet hardened. There are very few gynecologists in Kolkata and they’re all men and only treat severe cases because of the shortage. Neurology has always fascinated me, but it never ignited a passion or felt like a purpose. I need/want/need to help these women.

More thoughts

Tuesday I had some kind of courage in lab today. Moumita planned a 13-hour day for us in lab. And that was if everything ran smoothly, which is an anomaly in research. So I was all “no.” I wasn’t exactly that sassy, but instead figured out a way to cut the day in two. It was a proud moment. Then I talked to Sir about adding another project to my workload so I am not always waiting around for PCRs to finish. After brainstorming, we decided to test cholerae growth under different environments such as different concentrations of bile in the media (the project I’m working on now), different lake’s water from around Kolkata and starch concentration. All concentrations used try to mimic the actual situation. For the different bile concentrations tested, I found the actual different percentages of bile found in the human intestine! For starch concentration variations, we will boil a potato to mimic actual food consumption. I have a dilemma about taxis. I have almost entirely given up on buses. Because: you’re packed in so tightly by the time you reach your destination you are drenched and grumpy, you have to be on guard for pick pocketers constantly (Michael got his cellphone stolen today), and the total trip including waiting time can take 15-30 minutes longer than a taxi. The problem with a taxi is it cost roughly $3 per trip, $6 a day and therefore $42 a week, besides my exorbitant rent this is my single most expensive expense. I could hire a driver. But: I would need to either leave at the same time every day (it’s not possible to know when I’ll finish work) or buy a cellphone to call the driver. However in the end it would be cheaper than taxis. But am I really going to go to India and hire a driver? Really? Thoughts? Wednesday None of the workers in the canteen speak English. I rely on Moumita to translate my order to them. Almost invariably, my order will be wrong. It makes me wonder how much Moumita actually understands me. I came in before everyone else (as usual), worked like crazy and finished all of my experiments at 3:30. Instead of letting me leave early, Moumita put me to work doing little tasks like filling tip boxes and making solutions. I have no problem doing these things, but it’s really no motivation to work hard and be efficient. I taught Sreelupa and Moumita how to play solitaire. Now they fight over the computer when they have a free moment. After work, I decided to go to the mall near my house to buy some groceries and walk around. I have been tearing through books and ran out of all the reading material I brought and have since bought. I went to the bookstore and bought Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie. It’s about India’s independence—I hear amazing things. I’m so excited! I went to a sports store and bought a jump rope. Besides the bike ride in the village, I haven’t done any sort of exercise since I left the US. I think my muscles are atrophying. In reality, it’s 115 degrees in our apartment and it was probably just an impulse buy. I’ll be very proud if I use it. I went to Big Bazaar to get some food and forgot Wednesday is sale day. The store was so packed I could barely move. When I saw the line, disorganized and 7 x a million people thick I put down my basket and left. Instead, I walked the distance from the mall to the crossing stopping at all of the vegetable and fruit stores lit by candlelight. I pushed my way to the front and stood next to the serious business mothers. A smile at them was all it took for them to all help and fight with the shop owner over lower prices for me. It was awesome. For dinner, I ate a mango the size of my head.