I Visit Mysore and Extract the Plague

Dear America,

It is with great sadness that I must inform you that India has given me the plague (a small stomach virus). As we speak a small alien is feeding on my large intestine, growing and spawning until it will eventually claw its way through my tissue and burst from my stomach its teeth from its three bulbous alien heads gnashing (my tummy hurts) as it scours the area for its next victim (I'm going to purposely cough on the next professor who cancels class). I am too weak from sickness and despair to move (the Tylenol should kick in in about 20 minutes) and I find solace only in confiding in the motherland from my sickbed.

This past weekend CIEE planned a group trip to Mysore, oh foul seed of my stomach's undoing. I had been wondering where the giant program fee that CIEE required was going (besides our matching T-shirts, snack time, and prize money for inane contests such as the who-can-dial-the-program-director's-number-the-fastest contest). It went into this trip (Disclaimer: I get seriously irritated with CIEE sometimes, but the directors actually in India are doing a good job). The trip was planned for March 10, which coincidentally was also the date of the million person Telengana march, so our car got stopped several times by police on the way to the airport. That's right, you heard me correctly, airport. Super fancy luxury number one: a glorious, air conditioned, one person per seat, neutral smelling mode of transportation with real working doors that brought us to our destination in less than 18 hours. It was beautiful.

When we arrived in Mysore, after our 4 hour bus ride from Bangalore in our air conditioned, fancy-pants, TV containing, seat reclining, in-case-you-didn't-notice-we-are-tourists-please-stare-at-us! bus, I immediately started taking obnoxious tourist pictures 1. because it's super fun to be obnoxious and 2. because CIEE booked us for the fanciest hotel in the universe. This place had a chandelier in the lobby. We went up stairs where I jumped on my fluffy, bedbug and roach-free bed complete with linens that had been recently washed and two pillows, used my Western toilet with the little "this toilet has been sanitized" paper strip, and watched Indian VH1 (nerdy Indian gentleman with large 90s sunglasses and classy Indian lady in silver taffata dress earnestly co-ganster rapping) and Indian MTV (on which two Indian men were playing the slap game -- a game in which one person slaps the other as hard as he can for 30 seconds).

Inside one of the Buddhist temples

This is what the alien will look like once it has burst forth from my stomach and devours my carcass as its first earthly meal.

Since the trip was organized by CIEE, pretty much our entire time there was scheduled with lectures, performances, temple visits, and crayon drawings (not kidding), most of which were really interesting. We got to visit an exiled Tibetan community, and the Dali Lama had just stepped down as political leader the day before, so that was really exciting. Despite all the educational/historical/super old and beautiful/ridiculously fancy stuff though, I am going to have to say that the most memorable part of this trip was the food, not because it was delicious (which it was), not because it was the first recognizable green substance I have consumed in 2.5 months (which it was), and not because I believe it may be responsible for the evil parasite that is currently feasting on my innards (Tylenol, why won't you work?), but because India has several special rules about eating that I have heretofore not mentioned:

1. All food must be delicious. Preferably deep fried and delicious. This will both gain your guests' trust and encourage them to eat more.

2. Never tell your guests how many courses there will be. Always let them assume there is just one based on the enormous serving size of the first scoop of colorful, many-syllabled unidentified goop that you plop onto their plate. The subsequent 11 courses will be an exciting suprise!

3. All serving sizes must be huge. Preferably at least 4 times the amount of food that a normal human being can consume. Otherwise you are inhospitable.

4. Even if your guests say they don't want any more, they really do. You should plop another giant spoonful of butter fried rice on their plate even if they quickly pull their plate away and cover it with their hands like a nerdy 3rd grader trying to keep other kids from cheating off his spelling test, shouting "no, no please! I've already had 11 courses. My stomach is going to explode!"

5. If your guest does not finish all the food on their plate it does not mean that they are extremely full from the previous giant plate of food that you gave them, or that they are allergic to the food you have given them; it means that they hate you and your cooking. It also means that they do not care about wasting food or starving people.

6. If your guest manages to finish the enormous plate of food that you deftly managed to scoop onto their plate around their arms outstretched in protest, you should immediately refill their plate while they are not looking. Remember, this is a competition. The foreigner must never win. You must be more polite and hospitable than them.

Anyway, I would say it was a pretty successful trip. We got to fly all the way back rather than busing half the way, so I got to see four safety demonstrations narrated over an intercom by a creepily seductive voice for a safety demostration and acted out by flight attendants wearing bump-its and/or a natural Snooki poof (I think it was part of the uniform).

I'm going back to sleep now though. The alien is feeding again, and I need my strength.



Place 12 vehicles around it ,and three more adults and a small child or baby on the front seemingly steering the motorcycle, and you have a fairly common representation of driving in India.