The day isn’t up, but I wanted to get this out there while it was fresh. Today we got in a car and drove north of the city about 50 kms, which doesn’t seem very far, but we already live on the northern side of the city, so it basically meant that we were in the country. large broken down buildings quickly turned into small brick huts (or at least what appeared to be brick) with very low palm frond roofs (this happened within a mile or two). We visited a Vishnu temple that is located at a major battle site. In the late 1700s the British started demanding taxes from the land owners which really upset the tax system that was already set up because of two basic reasons. 1st, the land owners already paid taxes to the king (that was the system, the British should have worked with the king, not the land owners) and 2nd, the British didn’t demand a reasonable tax. So, in 1794, the king and 300 princely warriors died fighting the British in a battle that lasted all of 45 minutes. The British squashed them. The king had assumed, because of the local rules of engagement that the battle would begin at dawn and end at sunset, but the British attacked during the night.
We performed puja and then went to a monument on the King’s gravesite. A school was on the road down and the people in charge of it asked us to come into the school yard so that the children could see how exotic we were. They were very excited to see us and even went so far as to ask us for our autographs. It was surreal. I couldn’t believe that I was treated with such adoration simply because of the way that I looked. We were movie stars to those kids and they couldn’t get enough. It conjured up some very complicated emotions in me and I’m not sure that I have words to describe it.
Afterwards, we drove back to Vizag to have lunch with the chancellor of education in Andhra (I think that’s his title. I don’t quite remember) at the Waltair club, an old British club. he oversees the second largest education system in India, which is larger than the education system of California. The club is exclusive and we were the first BYU students to step foot inside (exclusive in the sense that you have to apply to become a member and your applications, complete with salary, are posted on the wall). It wasn’t a particularly impressive building (although it did have western toilets) by American standards, but the grounds didn’t have any trash, which was a nice change. I have to tell you as well, the fried fish was the best fish that I have ever had...EVER. I couldn’t believe my mouth. I have no idea what was in it or how it was prepared (other than battered and fried), but it was amazing...I don’t even have words to describe it. Anyway, we were in little Britain, and I was surprised by how much the bustle, chaos, and dirtiness of urban Vizag jolted me when we left.
The other students in the program are nice enough. I tend to dislike the most bubbly and outgoing of them, which is standard for me it seems.
The other day one of the students said, “these kids are adorable” in reference to all of the kids in India and it felt condescending to me, not complimentary. She certainly meant it in a complimentary way, but somehow I just felt like it was a softly prejudiced thing to say, as if it were surprising to discover that little Indian babies could be cute too.
I feel like I talk too much to the other students. As is my nature I tend to interject when I feel that I have some knowledge to add to a conversation. I think that I might be developing a reputation as a know-it-all, which isn’t really what I would like. I don’t really know how to shut up though. It’s almost compulsive.
I haven’t taken any pictures yet. I’ll have plenty of time to take pictures later and I hate feeling like a tourist trying to get pictures of every school kid that comes my way. I want my pictures to mean something to me, and so far nothing has really struck me as significant enough to document.
Justin
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