Of Men and Leeches

               As promised, here is my second tale of woe with Indian men.  Although to be perfectly honest it started off far more promising than my first story however that didn't stop it from ending just as badly.  This is the story of how I somehow managed to snag a stalker for a day at an amusement park; but what makes this story even more interesting was how ridiculously good looking this stalker was.  Since when did stalkers stop being creepy and start looking like models?

               Before I can explain though it's necessary to give some background information.  You see I probably never would have been in this situation were it not for the fact that I had accepted an invitation to travel with a group of English Grad students to Kerala for a 4 day trip.  Sounded innocent enough, how much trouble could I get into with a bunch of Lady Doak students complete with stiff English Professor as a chaperone? 

               I should have known better the moment I stepped on the bus at a bright and early 4:00 A.M. to depart from the college towards our first destination, Munnar.  My thinking was that despite being awake at an ungodly hour I could at least sleep the entire time, fresh for our arrival to the hill station.  Yeah right.  Imagine my surprise when I asked the girls if they were sleepy and they replied, "Oh no we only slept for an hour, now we are going to play music on the bus and dance!"  Dance??  At 4 in the morning?  The only things I want to be doing at 4 in the morning are either sleeping or wrapping up the end of a great night out.  As many who know me are aware, I am very much not a morning person.

               This also presented a problem concerning the years of conditioning I've received that any movement on a bus was bad bad bad.  I have many memories of bright elementary school years where I would turn around in my seat to talk to a nearby friend only to be yelled at by a very disgruntled bus driver.  Want to switch seats with someone else while the bus is moving?  Well you better expect to hear an earful from a swarthy figure up front.  In fact this ban on standing up in a moving vehicle is so engrained in all of us that even a group of Oberlin College Seniors in a school bus heading towards Cedar Point didn't dare go higher than one knee on their seat.

               Yet here I sat with years of adults telling me I knew better than to get up from my seat, while these Indian girls shook their hips at me in what can only be described as a 'come hither' motion.  What surprised me even more was that despite this rowdy group of students and the music that was blaring from the speakers, the bus driver never once made a single protest.  Despite it being 5 in the morning he seemed more than happy to oblige the many requests being shouted at him.  I have never in my life met a bus driver with such a calm temperament.  So in the end of course I got up, joined in, and realized why exactly it's such a terrible idea to move around in a bus.  Sure I was able to stand up for the majority of the time, but the rest of the time my body was being sent flying this way and that.  Into her lap, into the window, nearly into the front aisle, and it wasn't just me.  We were all barely managing to stay on our feet as the bus wound its way higher and higher up the hair pin turns of the mountain side.  Dancing in a bus with bad shocks while it's moving?  Bad idea.  Dancing in a bus with bad shocks while it climbs its way up the steep and narrow roads of a mountain?  Even worse idea. 

               But neither the teacher (who gave off a bit of a sour appearance) nor the bus driver ever once batted an eyelash, even when one of the girl's nearly knocked the teacher over with her elbow. 

               This was the beginning of my Kerala adventure.  The countryside was of course gorgeous, the scenery was amazing, and I had seen my very first real-life elephant getting a bath by the side of the road.  Disaster only began to strike towards the tail end of the trip, although I guess in the long run none of it was so dramatic as being worthy of the name disaster.  But I digress; it was on our way towards Cochin where we would be going to an amusement park when I encountered my first nasty surprise.  Now that our bus was heading down the mountain a whole new atmosphere had taken over inside.  Rather than the latest Tamil item number on full blast, the bus driver was playing a movie while the girls clutched onto their stomachs hoping they didn't hurl.  I was doing fine personally, no motion sickness, but I did have the annoying problem of needing to pee really bad.  Thankfully for all of us the teacher had us pull over next to a small creek so the girls could throw up for a while.  How nice of her. 

               While some of the girls did that a couple of us went down to the creek to take care of our business.  Now at the time I wasn't thinking what kind of creepy crawlies might be down there; I mean I've been camping before so peeing in the middle of nowhere is nothing new.  But it wasn't until after I was finished, waiting around the creek bed for the others, when I noticed something amiss.  I could have sworn I saw something black crawling towards my feet, but even though I inspected as best I could I didn't see anything.  I figured I must have made it up, until I heard something that made my blood run cold.  One single word, leeches. 

               One of the girl's had started screaming, jumping up on her friend shouting she had seen a leech.  The others merely made fun of her and told her she was imaginging things.  Slightly relieved I glanced around, not noticing anything, decided the best thing was to get out of there before any more scares happened.  I don't think it's necessary to add that I hate leeches, mostly because I don't know many people who actually like them.  But ever since I saw little and saw this movie where two kids jumping in a river only to come out covered in leeches I've been terrified of them.   Creepy black slimy things that gorge themselves on your blood?  Not something I ever wanted to encounter.

               However we were back safe on the bus and I was content to listen to some music on my Ipod whilst enjoying the Kerala scenery.  That is until about 15 minutes later I felt something wet hit the top of my foot.  At first I think, hmm something must have fallen from the chair in front of me.  I move my bag and there wriggling on the ground in front of me is a shiny black leech fattened up with my blood.  I have to say I'm very proud that I didn't scream or make a big fuss, I merely tugged on my friend's shirt and pointed.  She laughed and confirmed my worst fear, meanwhile the teacher had noticed and asked for the bus to be pulled over.

               While one of the student's dispatched this creepy blood-sucker, the teacher has me check to make sure there are no more leeches.  I'm freaked out, terrified that if I search some more I'm bound to find them hiding underneath my sandals or God forbid underneath my pants.  I don't notice anything and the bus starts to move again, but just to be sure I take off my sandals at the request of the teacher.  Drop one, nothing.  And just as I reach for the second sandal I see something go flying into the air from underneath my foot and sure enough going airborne is a second leech.  Needless to say this time we all screamed. 

               Again I feel the need to give a shout-out to the bus driver.  Here he had a grown woman and about 8 other girls screaming as if there was an axe-murderer on the bus, and he acted as calm as could be.  He didn't slam on the brakes, like I might of, or swerve to pull over.  Instead he kept driving until he spotted a decent place to get out of the way of traffic.  Talk about a seasoned veteran. 

               This second leech was much fatter which made me want to stomp on it with the hopes of sending the message that it can't just walk away with a free meal from me.  Too bad they kindly set it out on the side of the road before I had the chance.  That was my first (and hopefully last) encounter with leeches.  What makes them creepier to me now is that I had no idea I had two leeches happily chowing down on me.  I suppose it's a good thing they don't hurt but it freaks me out to think I might have never known if I hadn't felt it slide down my foot once it detached.  Yuck.  I know they are helpful in certain medical situations but they still freak me out.  If you've ever seen Stand By Me you'll know why.

               Now for the second-half of my "disasters".  As my dad put it, I had experienced two types of leeches during this trip.  After our first scare we made it to the amusement park without any other delay.  I was pretty excited because I mean come on it's an Indian amusement park, but I realized I was headed for trouble soon after arriving.  Turns out in India rather than having one amusement park with roller coasters and a separate one with water rides they put them both together.  I admit this is actually a much more convenient idea but the problem was I had no idea.  Sure, they had been going on and on about water games but I assumed they had meant the typical log ride which splashes everyone, or maybe even one of the circular buoy's that is a bit like Russian roulette when it comes to getting wet.  Nope.  We're talking full-on water rides complete with wave pool.  Complete and total submersion. 

               It had come to not only my attention but the attention of everyone else that I was wearing a pretty sheer shirt that once wet would be as useful a barrier from prying eyes as rice paper.  As for my change of clothes, well that was a white shirt.  Looks like the universe is out to prove I'm just a big ol' hussy.  In the end it was decided I would double up the shirts which did work.  In a way.  Too bad my chest seems to be a million times bigger than the girls here my age.  I couldn't for the life of me understand why when I got out of the water everything clung to me so that all my extremities became even more pronounced, while the other girls looked just as innocent as ever in their churidars.  I wasn't the only one preoccupied with this dilemma; I found nearly every other male eye following me that day.  And I wasn't even showing skin.  Well, not much.

               At first it was kind of funny, really.  I mean they all seemed so riveted it almost felt like I had complete control.  Not unlike a dog who follows a bone when you move it this way or that, I could have had these guys walking into poles which can make anyone a little power hungry.  But in any case I ignored them, running around happily with the girls and demanding that we get on all the rides. 

               It wasn't until mid-way through our adventure that I noticed a particular guy with his friends who seemed to pop up at more than one ride with us.  After a closer look I realized that, yes, he was clearly staring at me.  Normally I would have chosen to ignore it, or perhaps tried to ditch him, but upon even closer inspection I noticed this guy was freaking gorgeous.  I mean he was model good looking, with that long white kurta against his dark skin, pouty lips, and intense eyes it was hard not to fall for it.  Not to mention I had been in an all GIRL'S college in a city that already had a shortage of young good-looking guys for about 3 months now.  In other words, he was like finding an oasis in the middle of a desert.  So maybe I stared back for a while and perhaps I didn't completely discourage his following me, BUT I also never actually went up to him.  Not that I could have, I had my guard dogs circling around me at all times to make sure no devious man came up to have a "chat". 

               But there he stayed, with his friends, hanging behind going from ride to ride with us, chilling by the pavilion when we had lost our sense of direction.  Despite this incessant following I still would shoot a glance over every now and then.  At one point he was leaning against a pillar staring while sucking down on a juice box and can I just say I have NEVER seen anyone make drinking a juice box look sexy.  But by God I would be lying if I said I wasn't slightly turned on.  Not to mention he reminded me a bit of a Mexican guy after they get their sights on a girl, it was the same persistent nature.  So perhaps that's why I didn't think much of it at first.

               After a while he finally managed to catch up with us and at one particular moment while I was near the back of the group he came up behind me and asked if I wanted to go out for a cup of coffee.  I of course declined, mostly because I didn't want it getting back to the teachers that I had ditched the girls at an amusement park for some random Kerala guy.  Somehow I didn't think that would go over well.  He didn't care for that answer, of course, and asked why I couldn't just leave my friends for a little while, they would understand he reasoned. 

               I didn't have the chance to respond other than sorry because at that moment two hands grabbed my shoulders and steered me away while another girl pulled up the rear.  Might I say that South Indian girls make for the best birth prevention; while under their watch you can bet no one will be coming near you.

               Of course he didn't give up.  A few rides later he came back up to me and slipped me his number telling me to call, despite the fact I told him I wasn't from Kerala.  Didn't seem to be a problem to him.  For a moment I was actually kind of admiring this spirit, until the next part that is in which I once again chastised myself for falling for this act even if he was ridiculously good looking.      

               For our grand finale we decided to get on one of those log rides that is basically one big hill which ends up crashing into a pool of water below, and right at the top of that hill you get your picture taken so you can laugh at how stupid everyone's screaming face looks.  As we departed on our journey towards said pool I noticed that my admirer had slipped to the front of the line so him and his friends could watch us take off.  It was at this minute that I started to think, it is a little odd how they always know where we are.  It only got weirder from there.

               Once we got off the ride and headed over to check out our picture on the T.V. screens I notice one of the girl's starts arguing with the man selling the photos.  After enquiring what this angry, rapid exchange of Tamil could be about my friend tells me that apparently some guy had bought our picture and the man sold it to him thinking he was with us.  Creepy?  Indeed. 

               I couldn't do anything else but shake my head.  I mean really?  Guys here are on that level of sketchiness?  And for what?  A really bad picture of me screaming like some crazy chick.  It was almost comical except for the fact that some random guys had a picture of me that who knows what will happen to.  Actually I have an idea, but I'd rather not think about that.  Surprisingly enough the girls shook it off quickly and decided we should go to the wave pool to properly forget about this incident.

               On our way there I checked to see if I could find this guy, although this time I was hoping he had given up after that little picture moment.  While I didn't see him I did notice his friends hanging around the area, pointing towards our group and relaying some kind of information.  All of a sudden this turned into guerrilla warfare-style stalking, and there I was going back into the water which couldn't have been a good combination.

               And it wasn't.  As soon as we got into the water not only did all the guys on the men's side of the pool begin to crowd the partition and whistle at us, I noticed my dear admirer was standing with his friends at the edge of the pool with his phone out facing us.  Perhaps I had been naive before but I can at least tell when people are taking shots with their cell phone, which was exactly what he was doing.  While I was in the water, with my clothes clinging to me obscenely.  Again all the guys at the partition noticed this as well which was why the girls began handing me their dupattas so I could try to maintain some kind of chastity. 

               I managed to have a great time in the wave pool despite it all and after we got out of the changing room I was happy to notice my stalker had officially given up.  That night we headed back towards Madurai and all I had to remind me of this once seemingly innocent turned creepy affair was my stalker's phone number scribbled on the back of a ticket stub.  Once again India had proven to me that I can't be so careless with men as I had been in the U.S.  What could be considered harmless eye flirting back in the states was here apparently an invitation to take pictures of me without consent.  Not to  mention pretty much steal my photo. 

               Remember how I said I was learning?  Well I am, but that was still early on.  Again I would love to tell you that this is as bad as it got, however this was child's play compared to later.  This was at least non-physical harrassment; the real fun, so to speak, was yet to begin.

               Later on: Sexual Harrassment from 12 year olds and Groping: Another way to say Happy New Year's in India?       

Fresh Start (When Good Boys go Bad)

At the beginning of my journey to India I made the choice not to start a blog this time around.  I tried keeping one while in Japan at the request of many friends but I couldn't even keep myself interested enough to write it.  No doubt it wasn't any more interesting to read.

               This was probably because for the most part my life hadn't necessarily changed too much from how it was in America.  Sure there was less studying and more going out (thanks Japan for the different take on higher education!) but it's kind of hard to put into words the exhilarating thrill of having enough money to roam around Ginza with your friends.  Especially when you're used to trying to scrape together enough money just to think about leaving snowy deserted Oberlin behind for some vacation time.  But even the more unorthodox moments, such as finding myself shoved into a filled-to-the-brim train car with only the doors holding everyone in became so normal that I wasn't even motivated to describe it to someone else. 

               India, on the other hand, is proving to be a whole other barrel of monkeys.  Unorthodox moments happen not just on a daily basis but practically on the hour here and in such a wide range that it's almost impossible to become used to it.  Rather than Tokyo where I could move in and out of crowds with great ease and lay my claim to the city, Madurai is making sure I realize that if I continue this pattern of travel I better understand I won't always find my way so easily. 

               This brings me to back to the whole reason why I decided to start this blog.  I'm nearing my 4th month of being here and already I get the sense that I've become the seasoned veteran of an odd war filled with unexpected bombs, male chauvinism, hyper sexuality, and confused labels.  Don't worry I'll explain in due time what each one entails.  Basically, I've experienced some crazy shit.  So crazy in fact that I can't help but think I need to somehow write it down rather than keep it locked away in my brain with the hope the memories don't fade.  I'm sure they will serve as interesting dinner discussion later. 

               One of the common themes that I've noticed so far is that I have become something like an animal on display at the zoo for the people of Madurai.  Specifically the men.  Was I expecting this when I first came?  Definitely not (at least not to this extent) and I've even tried to ignore it but the volume of attention I've been getting (mostly creepy) is too significant to throw away.  To the point that I don't know where to begin.  But perhaps let's start with the story of the "good boy" turned to "dirty 30-year-old man" acquaintance I made early on.

               This was perhaps the 2nd or 3rd week I was in Madurai, when at the college they held a little get together for the International Studies Center so I could get to know the teachers involved.  A friendly, albeit somewhat intimidating, Tamil teacher quickly came over to where I was seated and told me there was someone I just had to meet.  Without giving me the chance to respond she asked if I was free later that evening and before I could get a non-committal grunt out it had been decided she would take me somewhere at 5 that evening.  This was all of course with no knowledge as to who this person was, why I was going to meet them, or where we were going.  I've come to notice this is pretty common in India; the minute you give the impression you are free you have signed off the right to let someone take you anywhere for however long they wish. 

               5 p.m. rolls around and as I get into this nice car (complete with driver and all) I start contemplating about the things this could turn out to be.  Was she going to show me off to a friend (people like to do that here once they make acquaintance with a foreigner)?  Or was she taking me to a priest to absolve me of all my horrible Western sins?  Turns out, after I got the courage to ask, we were meeting an English teacher who spoke Japanese and was disabled.  Despite his handicap of being unable to walk very well he had not only built a house for his family, created an English school for older Madurai citizens, and studied Japanese on his own.  He sounded like a very interesting person and suddenly I was much more enthusiastic.  In fact I felt like this would be my chance to finally rid my fear of forgetting Japanese by having a partner to speak with.  Oh Jazmin, poor sweet naive Jazmin.  If only I had known then.

               Our first meeting went great, the Tamil teacher kept to the sidelines as my conversation with this new guy turned into a rapid succession of Japanese back and forth.  Turned out we had a much easier time talking than I did with some of the teachers at Lady Doak.  After giving me his card so that I could give him a call, he requested the Tamil teacher take me to his house so I could meet his family.  That sent up a few red flags but come on maybe he just wanted to show off the house he built?  Right?

               I won't bore you with the rest of the details on that day, but as I finally made it home I felt good about how the day had turned out.  I made a new friend with a very interesting character and also found someone outside of the college I could practice Japanese with.  Which was why a few weeks later once I found myself with nothing to do during a holiday break I decided to give him a call to see if he wanted to get together and chat again.  Of course he said yes, what 30-something year old single guy wouldn't want to chat with a 22 year old girl?  Somehow that line of thinking hadn't entered my mind yet, although it should have.

               We met again at his classroom to have another friendly chit-chat.  Friendly my ass.  Of course the conversation started out innocent enough, probably because he had a friend in the room with us, though since we were speaking Japanese it didn't really matter.  In the beginning it was still pretty chill, we talked about everything from the states to how we've both made our "differences" work for us.  Obviously he was very curious about my birthmark and even threw in the typical, "you still look so pretty!" lines which men seem to like to clarify after meeting me.  But even at this point I took it all in stride.

               Then his friend left.  And things took a turn for the...sexual.  First red flag, as he is going on about how he has made his misfortunes his fortunes (which I still find honorable but after some point I get a little tired of people who toot their own horn too much) he makes mention how even though his legs are weak he works out a lot with his upper body.  Then, like any other typical muscle macho, he couldn't resist the urge to show off.  After flexing a few times he came to the decision that I couldn't fully appreciate it until I touched his muscles.  Um, no.  Do I want to touch your arm muscles?  Of course not!  I have muscles too but you don't see me demanding that people touch them!  He wouldn't drop it so I gave a quick 2-second touch with one finger to satisfy him hoping that was that. 

               Little did I know that was only the beginning.  The conversation then turned towards my love life.  Did I have a boyfriend?  I answered no without as much hesitation mostly because this has been a popular question since I've been here usually leading to a discussion on marriage.  But instead we stayed on the boyfriends.  Have I had boyfriends in the past?  Yes.

                "In America, are most young people who are in relationships usually very serious?"  Yes they can be. 

               "Usually if you have a boyfriend/girlfriend it means you've had sex, right?"  ......Um...it can....but not always.

               By this point I'm trying to figure out how the conversation had taken such a quick turn and also doing my best to make sure he wasn't digging around for information on my "virginal status" so to speak.  But his questions kept coming at such a rapid and calm pace that my mind was temporarily fogged by polite conversational protocol, so like a dumbass I kept answering.  And then it got weirder.

               He asked, do you tell your parents that you've had boyfriends?  Yeah I tell them but they don't care.  You talk to them about that kind of stuff?  I explain that my mom and I are very close so I would tell her these things.  Then he asks me if I knew whether my brother has had girlfriends.  Ok whatever that's not such a weird question right?  I tell him yes I know, he's introduced us to them before.

               This earns an eye-bug from him and brings about an even more disturbing question.  Did I now whether my brother has had sex or not? 

               ....

               ....

               WHAT????  In what world do I EVER want to discuss my brother's sex life with a stranger?  And in what world do you ask a girl whether or not she knows if her brother has had sex?  It's really starting to hit me that this is a really strange conversation to have between a 30-smthn year old guy and a 22 year old girl who are in a room alone.  By this point I'm trying to find a way to get out of here without him realizing the fact he's royally creeped me out.  Too bad he's starting to pick up on that fact. 

               He checks in with me asking if he thought this was too personal.  Then he explains saying he can't believe how easy it is to talk with me and doesn't have many people like that in his life.  Thus he wants us to talk about everything and share everything.  Oh and that he's so happy the teacher isn't here today so that we can speak "openly".  Uh-oh.  Big huge fucking uh-oh.  Share everything?  Talk openly?  What, next you want me to describe my menstrual cycle to you?

               Here's the thing buddy, this is only the second time we've met.  And maybe you think that in America girls can be totally open about their sex life and their brother's sex life, but unless you are sitting in a bar with a couple of drinks no guy in America would just machine gun you with those kinds of questions.  No guy would ever do that.  Because most guys would realize this will in no way endear you to them.  But clearly he had not gotten that memo.  Rather I'm sure his rational was that there was no way he could ask an Indian girl her opinion on the matter as they would get offended, but an American girl would have no such problem!  Well I may be American but that doesn't mean you can just forgo all forms of respect and start peering into my sexual life and that of my family.  Especially after only having talked TWICE. 

               So now I'm wondering, if this is only the 2nd time we've hung out and you've already asked me these things then what's going to happen the 3rd time?  The 4th?  Probably nothing good.  I'm further creeped out by the fact that as I'm getting ready to leave he's saying things like we should always talk, every day.  And he wanted to know if he could call me tonight to talk some more.  Um....I just finished a good hour and a half conversation with you, what else could we talk about today?  Moreover, what else would I want to talk to you about?  But in the interest of getting the hell away from him as fast as I could I nodded my head in a vague manner while scouring nearby for an auto.

               As we are saying our goodbyes he again throws out all kinds of compliments.  You are such an interesting person, so easy to talk to, and you are so pretty I can't believe you don't have a boyfriend, blah blah blah blah.  We should be very close, let's be very good friends.  Ick. 

               Suffice to say when he called that night I merely rolled my eyes at my phone and shoved it under the covers so I wouldn't have to hear it ringing anymore.  Too bad I was rudely awakened at 7:00 a.m. that next morning by him calling again and in my sleepy morning haze I accidentally picked up.  After making some excuses as to why I didn't answer last night it turns out he wanted to let me know Steve Jobs had died.  Oh wow, that's so nice of you.  I definitely needed you to call me at 7 a.m. to tell me something I would have found out as soon as I turned my computer on. 

               I'd like to say that after that I cut off communications but because my stupid conscience kept making excuses like, you can't just stop talking to him without any reason as to why, this charade kept going for a while.  Until finally after numerous attempts to try and get me to visit him again or to talk on the phone (as well as complaints when I didn't pick up) I cut him off cold turkey.  It only took him about a month of calling me to finally get the message I was no longer going to answer.  FINALLY. 

               I wish I could say that all interaction with creepy dudes in India stopped here, but then again if that were the case this blog might get boring awfully quick.  As it turns out this was, unbeknownst to me, only the beginning of a long line of infuriating and weird interactions with the opposite sex here.  Somehow my orientation had failed to prepare me for this side of my fellowship, although I don't think even they could have predicted some of the "adventures" I've been through. 

               But here's my final say on this ridiculous guy.  I find it amusing/frustrating that the Tamil teacher who introduced me to this guy in the first place never realized that behind this whole "good-boy" routine there was just another horny guy.  I'm hoping had she known this she never would have encouraged us to get to know each other.  Then again this is another common theme here, everyone is a "good boy" until proven otherwise, even if you've only known them for a day.    

               Be sure to check in next time for - "What to do When a Ridiculously Good-looking Guy Stalks You For a  Day."