More insufficient words
March 18th, 2008 at 1:45 am (india, travel)
So India isn’t all that bad, though for a couple of weeks it sort of felt like it was, in fact, all bad. Here are some random observations:
Hinduism is perhaps the most intense and passionate religion I’ve ever encountered, at least its manifestation in northern India. I think I mentioned this in my previous post. And in its passion is hidden (or maybe not hidden, maybe blatantly out in the open) the sexual repression that is so deeply held in this culture. I have never seen so many sexually frustrated men in one place: the way they dance with one another, the timbre of the music, the way they look at western women (and good lord, some of the bullshit they say to us), and the way the young men talk about girls. And ironically, all of this separation of the sexes is supposed to reflect respect for women? I saw little of this. Yes, yes, I have a distinctly American feminist perspective. Too bad.
Being a female tourist in India can be a lonely experience. The men wouldn’t talk to me because I was with Trix (though, if I wasn’t with him, I can’t say that the conversation was all that welcome - Indian men, please stop staring at my boobs and treating me like a sex kitten), and the women wouldn’t talk to me because they don’t talk to anyone except each other, apparently. This combines to create this odd visible/invisible position: I was stared at relentlessly while in public, but no one would speak to me, except the odd person here or there. Totally bizarre.
The food was for the most part great! This was an excellent change from s.e. Asia, where the food is typically (and surprisingly) so so.
Spirituality and religion are no trifling matter in India. Unlike s.e. Asia where Buddhism is integral, but also somewhat removed or mundane (which to clarify from a way earlier post about Laos, I generally expected), religion in India is essential and rich and unmistakeable. You cannot walk 10 feet without walking into a shrine, or a holy man, or a kid selling offerings. It is simply the fiber with which India is woven.
Eh, all of these words are mundane and insufficient. I’m still reeling a bit from the experience to be able to capture them - or really, to feel like capturing them. Maybe this is all best for in person stories, no?
alison said,
March 24, 2008 at 9:49 am
your comments about the sexual repression of India exactly captured what I noticed and felt like in Morocco. The eyes of men digging so deep into you, you feel dirty and undressed (and yes-the disgusting comments); the way men show affection towards each other by holding hands, because they can’t do it with women; the secret engagements of men with other men–not because they’re homosexuals, but because they are so repressed and sex with women is reserved only for reproduction; The excitement of the younger men at the idea of hooking up with a westerner or European, yet we are literally only pieces of meat to them (they all –yes, blanket statement– think that we are ‘easy’) and the notion that women enjoy sex and might want to be pleasured is just not part of their reality.
I felt so alienated by the women when I thought they were the people I would find companions amongst. They hated me, because their men wanted me.
It goes on and on. Apparently, which ever guy I was hanging out with on any particular day (and there were a lot– and totally platonic–because the women wouldn’t talk to me!) the older men in town would assume I was sleeping with them.
yes. it’s totally bizarre. especially when put into the context of the women actually being highly respected creatures in Moroccan culture, being the maker and keepers of homes, which is of utmost importance. so strange…and still, so intriguing to me.
mary said,
March 25, 2008 at 2:41 am
You described *exactly* what was going on. It was so intense and disheartening and, really, well, violating. Thanks for sharing, lady!