Indian Classical Dance, etc.

I'm having a tough time writing this next post. Sometimes it just feels like everything is happening too quickly, and I can't step back and get a perspective. These days I don't get home until around 7:30 or 8, which is great for my social life but poor for posting potential. I'll try to briefly get my head around the last week for you all, however.

Dance. Indian classical dance! This is my life right now. When Indians want to be helpful, they are helpful to the extreme, and when a student and her mother found out that I was interested in learning traditional Indian dancing, they pretty much adopted me. I've been at their house basically every day for the last week. In case you didn't know, it's really very hard to say no to an Indian or to an invitation. And really my time here is all about saying, "yes" and I sort of have a rule that I don't say no unless absolutely necessary. I didn't really want to take on a second dance class, but I am now so thankful that I followed my yes rule.

So I've been learning a semi-classical dance from Sweea's dance master, who is the most effeminate not gay man I've perhaps ever met. (I'm serious here; he was fake crying with tears the other day for some reason, I don't know why, because he speaks very little English.) It's costing me some money, but I think the overall experience is worth it. Last Tuesday Sweea's mother took me shopping, and I bought my first two sarees as well as fabric for three salwar kameezes. (I'm sporting one of them in the dance photo below.)

Last Sunday Sweea's mother invited me to go on a day-trip to a dam outside of town. Of course, I couldn't say no, and I was actually excited because I had read about the dam in my Lonely Planet book. It turned out that we were actually going to a different dam 2 times the distance with seven early twenty-year-olds who were all family. At first this was a welcome surprise--Indian college students who are approximately my age, cool! In the end, however, they made me feel quite old. Don't get me wrong, these were lovely, nice, energetic people and they were totally friendly with me. But they were also incredibly, even regrettably, boisterous. Boisterous is a kind word here for loud. And loud is an understatement.

For those of you who know me, I think you'll agree that I can sometimes get out-of-control loud. It was not a rare day during my childhood that I was scolded for talking too loudly, and goodness knows I learned early on not to raise my voice in a car. These volume faux pas don't really seem to exist in India. We left at 5:30 in the morning and by 7 they were warmed up and ready to sing, yell, and scream at the top of their lungs. The festive atmosphere was augmented by various tussles and playful pulling of hair. The driver was by no means left out of the fun, and I must admit that I became a little nervous when a cousin grabbed his hair or punched him on the shoulder as a bus veered into our lane. The best part was, of course, that I couldn't understand most of their conversation; so when they would burst out into a chorus of "ohhhhhh!" I had no idea what we were ohhhhhing about. At one point the volume level was so unbelievable that I rolled down the window and tried to subtly stick my head out of it. . . but then there were those big buses that came just a little too close, so I opted for a double dose of IBprofen instead.

These are two women that I met on the road, when we stopped for tea. Aren't they just the image that pops to your mind when you think of India?

Since I survived, I can now look back on the trip and conclude that it was a worthwhile experience. I saw some beautiful parts of the Andhra Pradesh countryside, and we even drove through a tiger reserve on the way to a huge dam. Near the dam we visited a large Hindu Temple in Srisailam, which I always enjoy. Hindus have the best rituals, I must say.

So we went from flat, low-tree, boulder-strewn countryside. . .

to this lush, mountainous, forest with cliffs. I know that I have some relatives/friends that would love to provide a geological explanation for this. Please comment!

Tuesdays and Thursdays I continue to stay after school to meet my young, female dance teacher, Archana. She is simply lovely and is just enamored with me. I think we're finally over the phase of our relationship where she spends the first 15 minutes of our class taking photos of us together . . . talking on the couch, lounging in front of a tree, taking a walk down the lane. She likes to call me Barbie Doll, which I think is just hilarious. She wants me to come to her house so that she can dress me up in one of her sarees and take more photos. And although it doesn't really sound so fun to me, it'll probably happen as I'm not one to say no.