Understanding another culture is challenging. (okay. total under-statement of the century.) On one hand you try to be polite and go along with what's expected...but on the other hand, you can't help but joke about how absurd they are...
Fe and I have caught ourselves saying, "Ooooh, India...you smell so bad".... "Ooooh, India...why must everywhere be your bathroom?" ... "Ooooh, India... why must you bobble-head for every question?" ... "Ooooh, India...why must you touch the top of my glass where I'm going to be drinking?" Ooooh, India...why don't you believe in trash cans, toilet paper, hand towels or deodorant?"
At the beginning of our trip, we had to look for clothes to wear, which wasn't as simple as we thought it would be. Ready-made punjabi suits rarely fit...so we had to find fabric and have them custom made by tailors (not something we Americans have done too often. Okay, never.) So basically we were looking for clothes everyday for at least two weeks (again, not something either Fe or I really enjoy doing.)
After a busy day of speaking, puppet-making-teaching and praying with alot of women...we set out at 9pm to search for something "more appropriate" to wear. (Indians, by the way, love to shop at night, when its cooler.) It clearly was a concern of, not just us, but others, since we were accompanied by three church "aunties" and one church "elder." Yes, a man. We entered shop after shop looking at sarees, since it's what we "should be" wearing. And they were even going to buy them for us.
The thing about shopping in India is...they make you sit down on mats on the floor...it's a production of sorts....and then they start ripping options off their shelves and piling them up in front of you. Until you are totally confused and can't remember if you saw one under the pile...30 sarees ago... that you actually thought you might like.
My only response, night after night...."Oh, India...you and your love affair with fabric... (how I wish you loved trash cans and clean bathrooms as much....)
Fe and I have caught ourselves saying, "Ooooh, India...you smell so bad".... "Ooooh, India...why must everywhere be your bathroom?" ... "Ooooh, India... why must you bobble-head for every question?" ... "Ooooh, India...why must you touch the top of my glass where I'm going to be drinking?" Ooooh, India...why don't you believe in trash cans, toilet paper, hand towels or deodorant?"
At the beginning of our trip, we had to look for clothes to wear, which wasn't as simple as we thought it would be. Ready-made punjabi suits rarely fit...so we had to find fabric and have them custom made by tailors (not something we Americans have done too often. Okay, never.) So basically we were looking for clothes everyday for at least two weeks (again, not something either Fe or I really enjoy doing.)
After a busy day of speaking, puppet-making-teaching and praying with alot of women...we set out at 9pm to search for something "more appropriate" to wear. (Indians, by the way, love to shop at night, when its cooler.) It clearly was a concern of, not just us, but others, since we were accompanied by three church "aunties" and one church "elder." Yes, a man. We entered shop after shop looking at sarees, since it's what we "should be" wearing. And they were even going to buy them for us.
The thing about shopping in India is...they make you sit down on mats on the floor...it's a production of sorts....and then they start ripping options off their shelves and piling them up in front of you. Until you are totally confused and can't remember if you saw one under the pile...30 sarees ago... that you actually thought you might like.
My only response, night after night...."Oh, India...you and your love affair with fabric... (how I wish you loved trash cans and clean bathrooms as much....)
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