Two nights ago, we were treated to a lecture by the head chef of Spice Junction, this ridiculously fancy restaurant in this ridiculously fancy hotel.
Seriously the best meal I've ever had.
Then, yesterday was Adventure Day.
What tiiiime was it?
ADVENTURE TIME.
After a long day of orientation, we little birdies attempted our first solo flight.
So, naturally, there were about 20 of us.
We piled 14 people in this little rickshaw:
To top Adventure Day off, Kyra and I met some kids from another program, spontaneously jumped up to go catch a show at the Hard Rock Cafe in Hyderabad, (which, to our dismay, was greatly impeded with the new instigation of the actual drinking age in the state of Andhra Pradesh. It's 21, folks.) and proceeded to have yet another rickshaw adventure.
Rush hour + rickshaw + no knowledge of Hindi + no knowledge of the city + first time on our own = insane hour spent zooming through traffic and fearing for our lives. But it was exciting and incredible. And I'm sure we'll do it often.
After rejection from the Hard Rock, we got drinks at a really rad buffet, can't for the life of me remember the name. We'll return shortly, it was quite delicious.
On the return trip, SURPRISE---more rickshaw adventures. This time it was defined by a 15-year-old driver with the MOST GHETTO rickshaw I've ever seen. Which says a lot, considering most rickshaws are already outrageously rickety. I almost got out and pushed us up a hill.
Not only that, but we spent over an hour being led down abandoned, dark alleyways at 1 AM, seriously questioning our judgement and almost regretting our first solo flight.
AND THEN, he continues to YELL at us in Hindi for how far we had to go. He better have appreciated the 500 rupees I gave him (instead of the 200 we consented. Jerk.)
But, in the end, it was a night full of new and exciting experiences. So I'm not complaining in the least.
Real Talk Lesson:
Poverty is real.
Pollution is real.
So real that they become elusive in every day attention, and are so completely inundated that the nearly impossible contrast of poor and rich are blended into Indian life.
This dichotomy absolutely blows my mind. The tiny beggar children weaving through rickshaws in rush hour are shooed away without a second thought. Businessmen in Armani suits and classy cars are seamlessly integrated along the same street with sickeningly thin old men living in wooden crates. High class, five star hotels are surrounded on either side by street vendors and homeless families. Mansions alternate with shanty towns.
This is urban India.
This is the reality of a vast majority of human life.
And this reality escapes so many of us in lives of privilege. Never in my life have I experienced anything like it.
Damn, they weren't kidding when they said to expect a culture shock.
Seriously the best meal I've ever had.
Then, yesterday was Adventure Day.
What tiiiime was it?
ADVENTURE TIME.
After a long day of orientation, we little birdies attempted our first solo flight.
So, naturally, there were about 20 of us.
We piled 14 people in this little rickshaw:
Went down this road:
To this city (Lingampally):
And proceeded to drink coconut water from real coconuts, which were chopped in half by a machete in front of us:
To top Adventure Day off, Kyra and I met some kids from another program, spontaneously jumped up to go catch a show at the Hard Rock Cafe in Hyderabad, (which, to our dismay, was greatly impeded with the new instigation of the actual drinking age in the state of Andhra Pradesh. It's 21, folks.) and proceeded to have yet another rickshaw adventure.
Rush hour + rickshaw + no knowledge of Hindi + no knowledge of the city + first time on our own = insane hour spent zooming through traffic and fearing for our lives. But it was exciting and incredible. And I'm sure we'll do it often.
After rejection from the Hard Rock, we got drinks at a really rad buffet, can't for the life of me remember the name. We'll return shortly, it was quite delicious.
On the return trip, SURPRISE---more rickshaw adventures. This time it was defined by a 15-year-old driver with the MOST GHETTO rickshaw I've ever seen. Which says a lot, considering most rickshaws are already outrageously rickety. I almost got out and pushed us up a hill.
Not only that, but we spent over an hour being led down abandoned, dark alleyways at 1 AM, seriously questioning our judgement and almost regretting our first solo flight.
AND THEN, he continues to YELL at us in Hindi for how far we had to go. He better have appreciated the 500 rupees I gave him (instead of the 200 we consented. Jerk.)
But, in the end, it was a night full of new and exciting experiences. So I'm not complaining in the least.
Real Talk Lesson:
Poverty is real.
Pollution is real.
So real that they become elusive in every day attention, and are so completely inundated that the nearly impossible contrast of poor and rich are blended into Indian life.
This dichotomy absolutely blows my mind. The tiny beggar children weaving through rickshaws in rush hour are shooed away without a second thought. Businessmen in Armani suits and classy cars are seamlessly integrated along the same street with sickeningly thin old men living in wooden crates. High class, five star hotels are surrounded on either side by street vendors and homeless families. Mansions alternate with shanty towns.
This is urban India.
This is the reality of a vast majority of human life.
And this reality escapes so many of us in lives of privilege. Never in my life have I experienced anything like it.
Damn, they weren't kidding when they said to expect a culture shock.
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