Heather Hamilton, a University of Idaho senior, studied abroad in India during the fall semester of 2006. While in India, Heather studied Indian culture, history, politics, religions, and one of India’s many languages, Hindi. Heather also conducted research on agriculture and agricultural education in India for a directed study program, where she received 4 credits toward her major, Agricultural Industry Management and Communications.

Dr. John Foltz, Associate Dean for the College of Agricultural and Life Sciences, and Dr. Robert Haggerty, Director of International programs in agriculture for the University of Idaho, encouraged Heather to try a study abroad experience because of her interest in international agriculture and intercultural communications. Though financial aid was a concern, the College of Agricultural and Life Sciences assisted in financing the educational opportunity, via a $1,000 scholarship.

Heather chose India due to the diverse cultural background and status as a developing country. “I believe it is important for us, as Americans, to experience something that is some completely different from everything we know. It is vital to our success as a nation to recognize and appreciate the differences abroad,” she said.

Trains, Planes, and Auto-Rickshaws

After 15 hours aboard an airplane full of Indians, I reached New Delhi, India’s capitol, and officially the craziest city I have ever seen. One jetlagged taxi ride later, we arrived in a hotel, very expensive by Indian standards, and architecture full of literal twists and turns. I could afford room service, so you get the idea of the price of food here in India.

After leaving the seclusion of hotel #1, we taxied to hotel #2, much less expensive. Located in a central New Delhi market place, our hotel was almost unreachable. After several stops to get directions, our Hindi speaking driver dumped our bags unto a rickshaw- a cart pulled by a skinny man riding a bicycle. 2 people, 4 bags, and 600 pounds later, we set off down a road filled with cows, pigs, monkeys, and so many people, some of who reached out to touch the funny white girl.

Well rested, we trekked on to the train station the day after, an experience not soon forgotten. Having purchased tickets online, it should have been no problem, but at 4 a.m. not many people are awake—our rickshaw driver was acquired by waking him up and watching him get dressed, then promptly climbing into a moving “vehicle” with someone half asleep.

Train stations are terrifying. When we arrived, our bags were grabbed by someone, and another man led us to an office across the street. Being faithful Lonely Planet Guidebook readers, we knew it was a scam, and after some waiting around, we avoided being ripped off. Our bag boys admitted to the scam as we waited for the train to Jaipur. Turns out EC actually stands for Executive Car, and not “Extra Car”, where our seats were “already filled” so we needed “new tickets”.

Reading, Riting, and Rithmatic

I don’t know what I imagined when I prepared for India. It wasn’t what I expected, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. When I saw the building I was going to be having 5 classes a day, 5 days a week in, I began to question my decision. Let me describe the building: 4 students- one classroom in a rundown library, no air conditioning, 2 stray dogs that hang out there. Supplies not provided. PowerPoint’s or handouts? Yeah right. Oh, and the power, due to a government mandate, is off 2-3 hours every day, so no fans. But it had charm. Definite charm.

At a government-run village school I attempted to investigate agricultural education, but quickly found out that such an idea is somewhat of a joke in rural, or urban, India. The school is very basic; students sit on the floor and study from books made of printer and news paper. Each of them is in a school uniform, India’s answer to caste and financial discrimination. Children from Padampura and surrounding villages attend the small school from primary to secondary school graduation, where they have access to 3 computers. The electricity is limited, so they run, at most, 2 hours per day. Though everyone is interested in us, the children are very curious and attempt communication through something like Pictionary.

The house where we are staying is nice. Rich Indian families live similarly to the way that we live, with a few minor differences. They have a servant. We never have to clean anything, or cook. Big change. We do our laundry in a bucket in the bathroom and hang it to dry on the roof, and take cold showers. The food is good, and for 5 months, I’m going to be eating a mostly vegetarian diet. One funny thing: there is a McDonald’s across the road from us that serves something called a McAloo Burger. Also, there is a painting of the Hamburgler on the wall, despite the obvious absence of beef.

A Very Merry Birthday

On September 8, I celebrated my 21 birthday – India style, which is to say it was good clean fun. Utkarsh, an Indian student we were introduced to, also had a birthday, so we had a dual party. Those in attendance were the 4 Americans, (a big hit with the Indians), Utkarsh and friends, and local 16 year olds. After the birthday kids fed each other cake, we amped up the computer speakers and rocked out to a little Ricky Martin and Backstreet Boys, Indian favorites. Of course, there was dancing, .. lots of guy/guy hip shaking, arm twirling, jumping up and down, general move bustin. It was fantastic.

Conservative is a Dirty Word in India

I never thought I would meet a communist. Shocking, I know. Upon arrival to Jaipur, one of my professors arranged a meeting with a leader of Rajisthan’s communist party, Srilata Swaminathan. She hates America and Americans, especially those with any sort of conservative viewpoint. For fear of my life, I didn’t mention my summer employment with Idaho Senator Larry Craig.. Really, my life was at stake… She thinks those attending Harvard represent a good chunk of the American population, and that student’s are rich. Ha. Other topics of discussion included brainwashing, Bush’s planning and execution of 9-11, and general craziness. Matt concluded the evening by saying that if she was in charge, blah blah blah would happen. She asked, “How do you know?”“ and Matt answered, “Because you’re a communist!”

My experience so far has led me to believe that India really hates George W. Bush, and they believe every American is a big fan of every last thing he has done. A young Indian man at the place where I go to school said, “Hi, my name is Blah. Why is Bush spreading terror all over the world?” This happens almost daily.

Home, Home on the Range

Dinner has been arranged for us here, eating with different farm family’s every night. In a village, nearly every family engages in agriculture. The house we eat in is partially covered, made of cement, a meal of plain dal (lentil soup) and chipote (similar to a thick tortilla). The oven where the family cooks is similar to a Dutch oven, a stone structure build to funnel smoke upward and heat quickly. It is fired by sticks gathered by the women during the daytime, and carried to their kitchens on their heads. We don’t drink the water because it comes from a river and we are spoiled Americans who would be sick for days- not sick, violently ill. The men are out doing something, so we eat with the women and children who adore our white skin. The women smoke Indian cigarettes, a trend that is despised in the city.

Wednesday morning begins after another sleepless night, this time because the Jains (an Indian religion focused on complete nonviolence) were performing an exorcism until 3 in the morning. When we go to work in the eye hospital, Indian culture and agriculture prevail as the hired men watch me shovel and carry dirt. In true Indian tradition, they stare while I sweat.

A family that keeps goats leads us to their home, a shack made of straw, though very sturdy and clean. They have multiple baby goats, and as far as we can tell, they raise them for milk and also to sell to other villagers.

At dinner, this time with a new family, we have dal and chipote again and realize it is essentially the only meal rural Indians eat. All of the Indians love to have their picture taken, and tonight is no exception. The men dress mostly in western clothing, but the women are still wearing saris or even more traditional skirts, scarves, etc. in bright colors.