Settled in Mussoorie

It's now been over a week since I came to Mussoorie, and I continue to be amazed by the scenery which is surrounding me. the city of Mussoorie is literally perched on a mountain (picture is Mussoorie from below), 2000 meters straight up from the state capital, Dehra Dun. The ride down the winding road to Dehra Dun is quite literally as exhilarating as any roller coaster, especially at the speeds at which the bus drivers take the numerous hairpin turns. From most parts of the city, there are great views of the Doon valley below, and the surrounding foothills to the Himalayan mountains. These are foothills, and still they are four or five times taller than the tallest peak of the Allegheny mountain range in which I abide.
My place of residence, DevDar Woods hotel, is a guest house another 200 meters above Mussoorie, which makes for a heck of a walk, but which gives even better views. DevDar is on the far side of the mountain, which means it faces not towards the plains but north towards the incredible snow-capped peaks of the bona fide Himalayas (picture of DevDar Woods hotel)

In the Guest house are, at the moment, eight other language school students, most of whom I find very nice and interesting and only a few of which really get on my nerves. The group isn't as young as I would have liked, purely because of demographic issues like prefered bed time, conversation topics, etc. There are, however, a couple of people which whom I really get along well. My room is great, and the freezing cold temperatures of winter are finally subsiding, leaving us with 70 degree days and 40 degree nights, by all means acceptable weather by my standards. We get hot water, which is a bonus, and three home-made meals a day, most of which consist of potatoes in cost-cutting measure taken by the owner (our complaints have not found hard ground as of yet). I have my own bathroom, and overall I am very satisfied with my room for what I'm paying: somewhere around eight dollars per night (picture of guest house kitchen and group)

Well, it's time for me to get off the computer. Language school is going very well, but I've got lots and lots of homework to do. Namaste!

India, Day 3

Hello, this is Sam in Mussoorie, my home base for the next couple months in India. I arrived this morning after an excrutiatingly long bus ride overnight from Delhi. I enjoyed the capital city much more than I thought I would; I had terrible memories of a hot, sticky, dirty, incredibly loud place where masses of beggars acosted you at every corner. My actual experience turned out to be significantly better than this preconception led me to expect, partly because I am older, more experienced, and better able to cope with with trying situations, but also because Delhi itself has been an enormous beneficiary of India's surging economy in the past years.

In Delhi, I stayed in the heart of the most oppressive area of the city, the Paharganj area, a densely populated neighborhood whose streets are lined with shops catering to tourists, and which houses nearly all of Delhi's backpacker community. Tourists are everywhere among the masses, and all of the locals, hawking one product or another, seem to view a white person as a walking bank account. There are loads of cool people to talk to--not only fellow foreigners, but also Indians, if you can figure out that they are not trying to sell you something, (wich is rare, I must admit). It is a hassle, but if you don't let it get to you, everything is good.

Much more genuine for me was Old Delhi, where the crowded masses moving in the streets contain only the occasional white face, and where businesses cater to the common person's needs. My favorite areas were the district in which all the street food stalls, selling curries and lassis and chai, were clumped together, and the area where all of the fabric dealers congregated--a veritable rainbow of color.

Delhi was a very tiring experience, and I ended up exhausted or sleeping much of the time because of jetlag. But, as I inched my way along the streets of Old Delhi, surrounded by people on three sides and moving traffic on the fourth, I felt strangely happy. It is amazing how, in the midst of what would appear to be mayhem, everybody knows their place--what they are doing, where they are going. It really is fun to be a part of.

Now, I am out of Delhi, up in the mountains where it is much more quiet--almost eerily quiet after being in the constant horn blowing of Delhi. Tomorrow, Monday morning, I begin my language lessons, which should occupy a large chunk of my time for the next eight weeks or so.

You Know You're Going to a Third-World Country When...

Sam's medical pack

-You're taking along more pills than a 75-year-old with high cholesterol (need those vitamins)
-You have more Gatorade powder than a high school football team (fight the travelers' diarrhea)
-You need travelers' cheques, a debit card and cash because either of the former two might not work in any given city
-Your mom makes you take enough Purell hand sanitizer to sterilize a surgical ward
-You're pack isn't save without four master locks and a bike chain
-You have eight copies of your passport and visa stashed in different places around your pack
-You just got injections for Hepatitis and Tetanus, and those malaria meds are already making you feel looney
-Two thirds of your bag is taken up by emergency medical supplies
-The only thing you know how to say in the native tongue is "No, I don't want any"
-Your upcoming trip will also serve as your weight-loss plan, because you know you'll get sick at least once a week for the next three months

Incidentally, all of these circumstances are true for me. It has been a hectic day of packing on the eve of my departure, and there is still way too much to do. Packing, repacking, cleaning, doing laundry, saying goodbyes, all with massive amounts of adrenaline both pumping me up and draining me at the same time. Tomorrow's the big day.

In Lieu of a College Education

This is my introduction to the world of blogging, a day I honestly hoped wouldn't come for a long time. Despite my sometimes dilatory resistance to becoming a technogeek like the rest of my family, I have finally concluded that blogging is just the most convenient way to avoid mass hysteria with mass emails that never get to everyone.

Almost everyone who reads this should already know who I am--but I'll reintroduce myself for those I haven't seen lately. My name is Sam, and, after I graduated from high school last summer, I wasn't ready to go to college. My graduation from Huntingdon Area High School removed a massive time constraint from my schedule, and I wasn't about to surrender my freedom in a couple of months when freshman orientation came around. I'm still going to college eventually--I start at the University of Chicago this fall--but until then I have more important things to attend to.

In the summer and into the fall, I took off on a whirlwind backpacking trip through Europe, exhausting myself and my bank account with a steady diet of late nights, cheap food, long train rides and the occasional beer. I went to museums and concerts, dance clubs and churches on a crosscontinental whirlwind. I came back from this trip in early October in need of money and time to relax. Now, nearly five months later, my wallet is replentished and it's overdue that I go spend all my money again.

Finally, to the point of the blog. In two days the work and relaxation portion of my gap year is over, and I take off on my next adventure. On March 7th, I will be leaving the country again en route to Mussoorie, a gorgeous town of 40,000 in the Himalayan foothills of northern India, where I will be spending the next three months. When I was thirteen, I came to Mussoorie with my family while my father was on a sabbatical. This time, I'll on my own and independent. I will be studying Hindi, the language of northern India, in a a language school, living in a boarding house, and traveling on weekends. I can already smell the spices and taste the chai--real chai, not what they give you in Starbucks, but massive vats of the stuff simmering for days over a gas fire, into which little glass cups of the spicy concoction are ladled. My mouth waters thinking of the curries and lentils andrice--Indian is the best food in the world. All the cheap artisanry, cheap food, cheap transportation, cheap everything...

So this is the introduction--I'll start actually writing when I get to Mussoorie, not until next week. Before I go, as a disclaimer--I have never been good at communicating. Sorry if I start out strong and never finish, but that scenario is pretty likely. Just to let you know--and I still love you all.

Namaste!