<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:48:42.142-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stephanie in India</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674.post-112266114882550469</id><published>2005-07-30T11:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-30T08:43:11.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nearing August</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was sitting in the St. Mary's Library having just copied or printed from the microfilm machine three artciles for my SMP which I am beginning research on over the summer and wrote a first draft of my IRB submission two nights ago.  All of the stuff that beginning my senior year requires me to think about and do really hit me this past week, so much that I decided not to work the final three days I was planning to at my summer job for Grassroots Voter Outreach in DC.  This past weekend I week to the DC Law Forum and picked up information from 66 law schools and the realization that I have to sort through all of this crap and pick 10 I want to apply to isn't any more appealing than my SMP required activities.  I'll be making decisions that will affect the next ten years of my life in the nest month and it's all a little overwhelming.  At the same time I realize how lucky I am that have choices  I am able to make I don't have to do a certain thing to survive or support my family like most of the people in India have to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still in the process of figuring out what I think about my experiences.  I saw Ceci, Chris, and Wes last night at the river concert series and Ceci said she had been going back through her journals and as she was reading she would think "I did that?"  I don't feel quite the same way I am not shocked that I did any of the things I did (given the place and situational context) but I still don't know what it means to me beyond that the experience was very meaningful and that the country of india has definately left it's mark on me permanently.  While I didn't participate in the talks about going back in with Mike when I was at the law school Forum I was drawn to the table of a law school I had no plans to visit because they had a Discover India brochure on their table.  I am already really excited about studying about India law near Dharmsala at some point during my law school career (I can participate in the program no matter where I go to school which is great).  The trip will cost about a thousand more than our trip but it's a week longer and I already know that it's worth it.  Plus if I have some background in India legal practices maybe I could live in India and actually have ajob related to my J.D. which really excites both me and Andy.  See Dan I'm already plottig how I can live in India for a couple of years like you so clearly you did manage to have your love of the country rub off on the rest of us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12440674-112266114882550469?l=stephobrien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/112266114882550469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12440674&amp;postID=112266114882550469' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112266114882550469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112266114882550469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/2005/07/nearing-august.html' title='Nearing August'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674.post-112611670653155155</id><published>2005-07-13T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T11:11:46.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>thinking of you India</title><content type='html'>On the drive home from work tonight I kept thinking about India, the place, the people, our trip trying somehow to determine definitively how I feel/felt about any of the above categories and everytime I do my thoughts just wander.  I am reminded of India every day I work because of the large Indian immigrant population who live and work in D.C. which I was unaware of before.  The random small Indian restaurants I walk by, the older women in Saris, the young girls waering jeans and a tunic length long sleeve shirt in 100 degree heat index weather, and India Place a place in Gaithersburg I drive by everyday on my way home but am still unsure as to whether it is some sort of shop or a restaurant because it sits in a strip mall back from the road and on top of a hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that getting my pictures back would somehow clarify how I felt about the experience but there are so many experiences I had of which I have no pictures (I might later when we swap, but don't now), but even those events I have pictures of are inadequate to convey the experience.  They evoke either confusion (bc almost every part of the Himilayas we wer in looks the same) or fragments of memories which do require me to think about them and fill in the blanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some pics are beautiful almost perfect captures of moments and I look at these and just smile, but I also realize all the moments I had in which a camera wasn't used or even if it was it didn't quite capture 'it' and then I realize how much I really did just give up after awhile and stop taking pictures of everything the usual me would have been snapping away at - which is very unusual for me to stop taking picture even if I think I didn't quite get it&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12440674-112611670653155155?l=stephobrien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/112611670653155155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12440674&amp;postID=112611670653155155' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112611670653155155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112611670653155155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/2005/07/thinking-of-you-india.html' title='thinking of you India'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674.post-112611609307950813</id><published>2005-06-28T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T11:01:33.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tonight when my mom get home from work around 9:30pm and hour or so from now I finally get my pictures from India.  This wait alomost more than the convinience and other factors had convinced me I need to get a digital camera if I am going to keep travelling like this, the wait has been killing me.  I don't know what I'm going to feel or think when I see them, I don't remember half the picture I took so I guess they will remind me of what I thought was important or interesting at the time I took them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today at work a woman originally from India who has been here for four years became and ten dollar a month contributor (I work for an evnvironmental lobbying group doing fundraising), she was my first middle eastern contributor and I was really excited because I've been itching to talk to someone about the trip even if only for a few minutes who might understand better than my family, friends, or Andy.  She lived in the plains when she was in India, but as soon as I told here all the towns and city that we visited she commented that we visited almost all of the most important sites for religion in the country so good job Dan on the intinerary.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked me how I liked it (India) and I said I loved it.  Everyone has been asking me that same question or even more difficult to answer How was it?  They want to know what I did, and how it was and like we all predicted I don't know what to say to them besides that I loved it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My director at DC Street has been almost as excited as me about my pictures every since I told her what I had been up to this summer in my interview, and when I told her I was getting them tonight she told me to bring them in tomorrow so everyone can see them.  I am sure this will bring a whole new series of questions tha evoke certain feelings and sequences of memories for me but will only produce wordless mouth movement and shrugged shoulders for them as I struggle to figure out how I felt and what I feel now unsuccessfully.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12440674-112611609307950813?l=stephobrien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/112611609307950813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12440674&amp;postID=112611609307950813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112611609307950813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112611609307950813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/2005/06/tonight-when-my-mom-get-home-from-work.html' title=''/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674.post-112611539521990386</id><published>2005-06-20T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T10:49:55.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First weeks back</title><content type='html'>This first couple of weeks back I haven't woken up every morning thinking I am still in India like Dan does when he gets back...I know exactly where I am every morning.  Instead I return to India or India related things in my dreams, almost everynight I am either in India, talking about India, or dressed like India.  The dreams don't really stick out in my mind other than a sort of callediscope of vibrant colors and sounds - sort of how Dan described to us that India would be before we went.  I can't remember the plot lines of any of the dreams except one that was a little too personal for teacher and worldwide web reading but that the basic ghist of it was dealing with my feelings about the strange feelings/chemistry/? between Jame, the jewelry salesman I met in Dharmsala, and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any time (and there's been only two) that I've felt an almost instant chemistry with a guy besides Andy while we were dating I knew that we would become really close (and completely platonic) friends.  My dream's plot basically very clearly indicated that my brain and the fantasy portion of it have recognized what was pretty obvious to my awake self that I was of course right in not accepting a marriage proposal from a man I barely know bc I didn't love him and am in fact in love with someone else.  But there is also a sense of sadness that I feel because there was not time to get past the awkward semi-attracted state and get to even close to fully know one antoher and become friends.  I wear the ring off and on and think of Jame whenever I do.  He wrote me an email which I responded to but I didn't really know what to say and kept it really short.  How do you get to know someone, become friends with them from thousands of miles away through a language barrier knowing they feel more for you than you do for them without hurting their feelings?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12440674-112611539521990386?l=stephobrien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/112611539521990386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12440674&amp;postID=112611539521990386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112611539521990386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112611539521990386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/2005/06/first-weeks-back.html' title='First weeks back'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674.post-112611450270943084</id><published>2005-06-08T22:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T10:36:36.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First few days back</title><content type='html'>My first full day back in the USA tuesday I woke up late around 11:30am and called Andy because when he asked when he could see me Monday night I told him after whenever I was up.  Because I've been out of the country and thankfully not in any cars in India I didn't really feel very comfortable driving over to his house so he came and picked me up.  I wore my long wrap skirt and the shirt I had to safety pin shut because for some reason I didn't want to or feel like putting the clothes in my closet or dresser on so I dressed from my suitcase and waited for him to arrive.  He picked me up we went back to my place and cuddled and stuff then just spent the rest of the afternoon together we ate lunch out, and then we went back to my house and watched television with my parents.  I went to bed fairly early and because he was off again the next day I was just supposed to call him when I woke up again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Monday when I had first called him he had suggested we go caving on one of his days off I was hesitant to give a definitive answer when I was so zonked out, didn't want to do it on my very first day back Tuesday, but to my eventual delight I gave in and we went caving on Wednesday.  I got dressed in my swimsuit, my olive capris, the pink India shirt, and my chacos which now feel sort of permanently molded to my feet.  He came and picked me up we drove out to park land along the potomac and walked along one of the C&amp;O paths just talking on our way to this cave he knew of.  I would never have done this before I went to India thoughts about spiders, snakes and other nasties would have filled me head and I would have refused.  Once I actually got into the cave I realized I was right to have agreed and had nothing to worry about.  The cave was completely clean except for red clay mud every wear, it is too dark, and to cold for any critters so it was just me Andy and our headlamps getting covered in red muck below ground.  I was very proud that I didn't slip once (because of the chacos) and managed to follow him up and down all the cave permeations he wanted to try out.  We even squat walk for quite awhile along a low passage with most of my legs in the water before he decided he didn't really want to go%&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12440674-112611450270943084?l=stephobrien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/112611450270943084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12440674&amp;postID=112611450270943084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112611450270943084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112611450270943084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/2005/06/first-few-days-back.html' title='First few days back'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674.post-112274106047789506</id><published>2005-06-07T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-30T09:31:00.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in the USA</title><content type='html'>In the last two days from June 5th when I left India to last night June 6th I only slept one hour on the flight from Dehli to Amsterdam and of course that one hour was the beginning of the Bollywood movie that I wanted to see but I did write down the name and the director so I can find it later, plus I did get to see the happy ending.  In the Dehli airport I got through really quickly but then when we reached security I had to go all the way back because the customs persons stamped my Amsterdam to D.C. ticket not the Dehli to Amsterdam one.  We were kind of hungry in the airport before when decided to head to the gate so Mere, Ceci, and I stopped by stubway.  Mere and I got drinks and I think Mere got a cookie but Ceci got a veggie DeLight (since you know she is a vegetarian) thinking only it's subway so of course it's safe but what she didn't think about was this is Dehli so no uncooked vegetable is ever safe.  She ended what was a fortunate vomit free three weeks on the plane to Amsterdam which was sad but kind of ironically funny at the same time that she lasted for three weeks but the airport food on the way home did her in.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good-bye at Dulles was really sad after having spent three weeks with Dan and the other girls and sharing experiences with them that no one else will ge able to grasp no much how much I talk about them.  I was kind of disappointed that only my dad was there to pick me up because I had really started to miss Andy and my mom in our last week in India.  But I had an interesting surprise waiting for me when we were in the parking lot and I asked dad what car he had driven mine or the truck when we walked up to a golden colored toyota Highlander, apparently Dad finally figured out he doesn't really use the truck like he thought he would and so traded it in for a much more family friendly vehicle.  It was interesting because even though I could tell it was hot outside (for Maryland) it didn't feel that hot and I wasn't sweating at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wan't really experiencing the shell shocked feeling of reverse culutre shock I experienced when I returned from Peru I guess probably because I'm older and because India while it is very different from the US is more cosmopolitan than the area I was in when in Peru.  When I saw the rolling green hills of Virginia when we were coming into the airport I actually started crying I was so glad to be home (and at the same time sad that i wasn't still in India).  Driving home Dad and I actually had somthing resembling a conversation which is unusual because Dad is pretty quiet but that's how our relationship is either silent or pretty chatty really nothing in between.  When we reached Boonsboro we stopped at the Post Office and mom called while we were there I talked to her outside while dad mailed his package.  Apparently Dad had a retirement party for one of his co-workers that night so it would just be mom and me for dinner.  She asked what I wanted and I said meat so she suggested spagetti and sausage which is one of my favorite meals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got home I went through my box to make sure everything was ok and showed my dad all the sutff I had got.  I showed him all the gifts I bought for the famile and he thought mom would love the earrings I got her which she better because of my interesting experiences with Jame acquiring them.  I gave him the shirt I bought him which he liked as I knew he would since it is a very graphic photo like shilloette print, I told him I didn't actually visit Rajistan but he didn't mind the shirt depicted shomewhere I hadn't actually been.  I don't actually remember what I did when he left i think I watched some tv and harrasses my cat.  My mom got home and made our dinner while we talked I gave her the earrings and the carved pen I got her both of which she loved.  Andy called an aplogized for not having been there to pick me up from the airport but he had to work, we planned on spending time together the next and I told him I would call him whenever I woke up.  Mom and I talked about watching a movie or the final Alias episode after dinner but someone called for her when we were cleaning up and I actually fell asleep in the family room arm chair (which is understandable seeing as I had been up for almost 48 hours at that point).  She suggested maybe I should go to sleep which I did at about 7:30pm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12440674-112274106047789506?l=stephobrien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/112274106047789506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12440674&amp;postID=112274106047789506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112274106047789506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/112274106047789506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/2005/06/back-in-usa.html' title='Back in the USA'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674.post-111755662810495836</id><published>2005-05-31T08:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-31T09:23:48.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trip to Mussoorie</title><content type='html'>Today we woke up really early so that we could have breakfast and be out of the residency by six am.  We took our cabs to the train station which was crowded and crazy, when we got out of the car we were swarmed by porters trying to carrying our luggage - Dan only hired one because they usually know which platform you need to be on for you train.  He carried Mere's bag and kept trying to take Dan's and led us to the platform while the rest of us followed behind carrying our bags..I was struggling with mine because I couldn't get the handle to go down which made it difficult to carry up the many stairs but because Meredith's hands were free she helped me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our train arrived fairly quickly after we recheaded the platform and we got on and in our seats with a minimum of craziness: JOhn, Meredith, and I were in seats pretty far behind the rest of the group towards the back of the car while they were in the front so for the first two hours or so I re-read the readings that we read when we were at home in order to refresh my memory about what I thought so I could do my journal writings.  I read some of the Hindustan Times and disocvered that India Times is much better, less gossip more news, which Mere let me borrow.  I ordered a non veg lunch which turned out to be an omlette so Mere was kind enough to switch with me and the veg patties were actaully pretty good.  Strangely enough the starch that came with them wa a handful of french fries sitting on the top - McDonald's chicken nuggets Indian style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After getting bored and my rear getting a little too sweaty to stay still for any longer I went towards the front to talk to the rest of the group the car had pretty much emptied out and this point and so Danny was now sitting with us and i talked to him and Mike and Becca for a little while about relationships and other stuff.  After more of the group joined us Danny announced that he had finish the Da Vinci Code and wanted to know who wanted to read it next - since no one else seemed suprememly interested and I didn't think either of the novels I had brought would be very riveting I took it not expecting to actually read it on the trip.  After I put the book with my stuff I went between the cars to see the view of the Indian countrysie as we passed - Meredith and I seemed to get the only fogged up window on the train which didn't clear the entire trip so my view from my seat was like India under water.  John, Tarn, Dan, and Betul were in their respective couples on either side.  Betul was hanging out of the train on my right with Dan spotting her, and John was sitting on the step to the car with Tarn crouching behind him.  After awhile everyone but John went inside and after a bit longer I got up the courage to sit the same way that John was.  I even got up the nerve to take my right hand off the handle after awhile in order to take pictures.  It was fun, interesting and peaceful to sit there by myself and watch the landscape go by in silence.  When we started slowing down I went back into the car gathered all my stuff and when we stopped and Dan confirmed this was the place Kirk, Mere, and I got off but no one else did for a few minutes and I started to get worried we had gotten off too ealry and would be left behind until Dan stepped off from the other end of the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car ride up to Mussoorie literally took my breath away the scenery of the mountains was so beautiful but I wasn't scared even when we came within a couple of feet or one for that matter of dropping off the side.  Heather and Mike were a little more nervous shall we say - Heather becuase she has a fear of falling, Mike kept asking what were to me the most hilarious questions like "Do you thinks this is a hard top?" (pointing to the roof of the car) to which I replied, "If we go off the side I realy gon't think that it matters."  For whatever reason by the time we started the drive all the anxiety that I had the day before the trip or when mom, Andy, and I were rushing to the airport and I hadn't printed out my ticket had completely vanished and I had a sense that whatever would happpen would happen and that I was ok with whatever it was.  By the top of the mountian Heather and Mike were fine too and were in fact huriedly constructing paper airplanes so we could throw them over the side of a cliff and see how far they would go.  We only go to try them over a cliff with little air so they only went like 40-50 feet and then crashed which was no fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got to Mussoorie to the place we were supposed to stay the staff didn't know anything about our reservations and the head of the place was somewhere in Sister Bazaar so Dan and John headed down there to find out what was up with our reservations and we went into the back to the outdoor seating for their restuarant and me Sunny/Carina from Canada who had been in India for several months and the last month on her own - she was in Mussoorie studying Hindi and wants to move to India and get a degree in development.  It was nice having someone to speak English with even though we'd only been in India for a day and she was reall excited to see us because she's had no one to talk to in English for quite some time.  We hung out for awhile and then ate when Dan phoned in an order of pizzas for us, Seth and I took some pictures of Monkeys and met two graduate students fromt the University of Chicago were Dan and Betul went who gave us a stick to fend the Monkey's off if they attacked because apparently they are pretty aggressive, then a group of us (basically everyone but Betul who gaurded our luggage) took a walk around the mountain top.  After a bit we met Dan and John in a cab who told us our reservations had accidentally been cancelled and that in a half our we were to meet back at Deopdar woods to find out what other place or places they had found for us.  When we got to the other Hotel down in the Bazaar Heather and I's room which I quickly grabbed had a huge picutre window which took up most of one wall with an amazing view of the backside of the city the valley below and the rest of the Himalayas beyond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked around a little before we were supposed to met back at the Hotel to all go to dinner together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12440674-111755662810495836?l=stephobrien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/111755662810495836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12440674&amp;postID=111755662810495836' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/111755662810495836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/111755662810495836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/2005/05/trip-to-mussoorie.html' title='Trip to Mussoorie'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674.post-111727219480913855</id><published>2005-05-17T13:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-28T02:23:14.813-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day one in India - Dehli</title><content type='html'>Today was our first full day in India we were supposed to be up around seven or so for breakfast but I was up by six thirty and I woke up several times during the night so my plan that I would be exhasted and sleep because I didn't sleep on the flight from Amsterdam failed but that's ok.  When I got dressed and walked into the comon eating/sitting area I was surprised to see Danny from SMC who I met through Anastasia last year only shortly before I graduated hanging out on one of our couches.  he has apparently been hee since september and spent two months in Thailand recently - he met up with John and Tarn in Varnasi and has been travelling with them since.  We all had breakfast together and I sat with Danny, sunshine, and Ceci...Danny gave us this food item that's sort of a mixture between a fruit and a nut called a leche nut which was very good.  It has a spiky other shell which you peel and then there is white fruit that look kind of like an eye ball but tastes like a combinatin of an orange and a grape- very good - and in the inside of the fruit there is a pit that looks kind of like an acorn which I didn't eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all piled in our cabs and drove by some government buildings, India Gate, the President's Palace, and the Parliament building which all had beautiful architecture..I have to remember to drive by them when we return and take pictures because I was too zoned out and tired to think about it today.  We parked at the Imperial Hotel where we will be having lunch and then the whole group walked along Janpath street together - the shops were just opening and we really didn't stop to look at anything we just kept walkng till we reached the circle.  We split into two groups at that point - Wes, Chris, Ceci, Rebecca, Mere and I walked along the edge of the cirlce together but only went in one shop.  Then we decided to find a restaurant to sit and have a cool drink in for awhile to kill time until lunch.  I ordered a strawberry milk-shake which was delictious and felt wonderful after the heat.  Then we walked back towards the Imperial and stopped in the Government Imporium where I will be blowing the remainder of my money when we are in Dehli again because they have everything you could ever want to buy in India all in one place and have fixed prices so you don't have to bargain and know you aren't being screwed over too terribly - plus there is an entire floor of cloth and clothes and a room with nothing but rugs in it both places I will probably have to spend lots of time before deciding what I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lunch at the Imperial was interesting I ate the equivalent of chicken nuggets and fish sticks (though much fancier and they tasted better than many version of those items in the U.S.) and drank what seemed to be improted Coca Cola because it didn't taste different to me.  I had lots of fruit or dessert because I know at least at the Imperial that it is safe to eat, I also had strawberry mousse, an almond tart, and a chocolate layer square all of which were delictious.  After luch we went back to Ahuja and then Betul, Ceci, Becca, Mere and I went shopping at a export surplus market where it was interesting to encounter items which had Old Navy and Gap labels in them but that I know wouldn't sell anywhere in the U.S. except maybe Hollywood.  We had a small boy following us three fourths of the time we were there...he was maybe six or seven and was wearing nothing but a maroon stripped shirt he would pull on our skirts or shirts whatever he could reach and then after awhile when we hadn't given him any money he started pinching instead of just tugging on our clothes and so we sort of kept moving away from him as much as possible.  It's hard to look into the eyes of these children and not give them anything but even though he wasn't wearing much I could see that he was fairly healthy - clearly not starving and the children also don't follow or treat Indian women shopping the same way...only American/white women who they have probably heard have a soft spot for little kids.  A couple of times when we were in shops the owners chased him away but he would only go ten-fifteen feet ahead of us and wait until we came out of the store.   After awhile he stopped following us but a girl a little older took his place and followed us all the way back to the car - it's a little unnerving that they are so agressive and they are only that way with us, not the natives.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought two shirts which I unfortunately discovered when we got back didn't fit me and a wrap skirt that does fortunately fit with elephants on it that is tan, green, and red.  I wrote a little in my journal when we got back while we were waiting for dinner to be made which was forty minutes late and sort of eat a little and run before we headed out to Red Fort for the mysterious Sound &amp; Light show on the fort's history which we were seeing at eight thirty.  We took rickshaws from one side of the Red Fort to the entrance which was very unnerving with the crazed way that Indians drive, to be only protected by a little bit of metal and wood was kind of scary but also exhilerating and fun.  the Sound and Light show was a narrated histoy of the fort with sound effects and actors doing dialogue of some historical figures while certaine parts of the buildings were lit with different colered lights - the royal apartments, the two audience halls, the royal baths, and the temple in the fort.  I tought it was interesting if a little technically low key but we were all so tired, and still hot even though it was dark, and there were so many bugs that we decided to leave early.  We had one more rickshaw ride back to the cabs and then returned to Ahuja for the night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12440674-111727219480913855?l=stephobrien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/111727219480913855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12440674&amp;postID=111727219480913855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/111727219480913855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/111727219480913855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/2005/05/day-one-in-india-dehli.html' title='Day one in India - Dehli'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674.post-111726992381751521</id><published>2005-05-16T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-28T01:45:23.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Surreal night in Dehli</title><content type='html'>Maybe it was because of the sixteen hours of flight, or that I haven't really been outside and walked around yet but this whole trip still seem unreal to me..it hasn't really set in that I am in India and that I will be here for three weeks.  The suite we are staying in is really nice and except for the slightly odd shower arrangements and the servants we have to cook for us in the suite this could be almost any American hotel room or suite.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sights that I saw on our drive from the airport to here are not what I expected from a major city like Dehli, it is very spread out land is not utilized as completely as it is in the U.S. there are so many places that in America would have 16 story high rises built on them that here are low sprawling buildings with housing or markets in them.  I saw my first sacred cow walking on the concrete median strip between the two lanes in the opposite direction of the cab it was appropriately white and looked almost ghost like in the dark.  The contrast of the very rich and very poor living side by side was immediately apparent when we passed the house of the the Prime Minister and there were 5-10 families sleeping on the grass and sidewalks in front of his residence.  It's much different than Peru was, the poverty is so much more visible and sriking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tommorow we have our first full day in Dehli only one here at the beginning before we return for two days at the end of the trip and I have no idea what to expect.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12440674-111726992381751521?l=stephobrien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/111726992381751521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12440674&amp;postID=111726992381751521' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/111726992381751521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/111726992381751521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/2005/05/surreal-night-in-dehli.html' title='Surreal night in Dehli'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674.post-111726752027737633</id><published>2005-04-25T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-28T01:20:00.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What is India to me?</title><content type='html'>Mysterious&lt;br /&gt;far away&lt;br /&gt;exotic&lt;br /&gt;mountainous&lt;br /&gt;hot &amp; shimmery air&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People&lt;br /&gt;colors&lt;br /&gt;fabric&lt;br /&gt;the tone of jewels&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tantalizing&lt;br /&gt;information&lt;br /&gt;not known&lt;br /&gt;never taught&lt;br /&gt;or only briefly &lt;br /&gt;many years ago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Religions &lt;br /&gt;mixing&lt;br /&gt;now I don't know how&lt;br /&gt;Better than here?&lt;br /&gt;maybe worse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learning &lt;br /&gt;about what&lt;br /&gt;I've been missing&lt;br /&gt;learning about&lt;br /&gt;what I want&lt;br /&gt;To be tolerant...Open&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12440674-111726752027737633?l=stephobrien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/111726752027737633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12440674&amp;postID=111726752027737633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/111726752027737633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/111726752027737633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/2005/04/what-is-india-to-me.html' title='What is India to me?'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12440674.post-111448622867375985</id><published>2005-04-20T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-28T01:30:31.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I want to go to India?</title><content type='html'>I don't know why exactly it was that I decided to come to India - other that when Dan stood up in the study tour information meeting and described the India study tour I knew it was the trip for me.  Even though the day long pilgimage trek sounded grueling, there was just something about it...I knew I had to come.  In my life I have had a couple once in a lifetime possibilities presented to me, thing I think I could never do on my own and this was one of them.  All of the other study tours while very interesting were places I think I could go with a few other people and we would be able to have a relatively full experience with little knowldge or preparations.  But this India experience is not one that I think I could have put together on my own without the help of another person first and I am looking forward to going with people who know something about India and a group of students so that I don't feel quite so alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's also like there's something calling me to India..I don't know what or why...  just know I have to go and see what it's like for myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12440674-111448622867375985?l=stephobrien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/feeds/111448622867375985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12440674&amp;postID=111448622867375985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/111448622867375985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12440674/posts/default/111448622867375985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephobrien.blogspot.com/2005/04/why-i-want-to-go-to-india.html' title='Why I want to go to India?'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07124899072395591764</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
