<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547</id><updated>2011-07-31T00:53:12.519-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mackenzie's in India!!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>47</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-8361556816279954949</id><published>2008-05-15T00:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T00:29:58.037-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Self vs. Self: Round 1</title><content type='html'>This is my first summer in Chicago since we moved when I was 12.  Delighted at the idea of enjoying free summer stuff and paying my own way for necessary bills, I started my summer job Monday canvassing door to door for the Democratic National Committee.  I knew the skepticism that accompanies such a job when I signed up and I was totally on board none-the-less because I really do think this country needs a change in leadership, and, at the least, a change from the same old white-rich-male on top.    That said, I started canvassing door-to-door to raise money for the DNC.  I raised $120 on my first night...then dropped to $95 the second, and it was only on the second night that I really started to believe it was good for me to spend my time raising this money because I want Obama or Clinton in the White House.  After 2 1/2 days on the job, however, I kept feeling an itch, an inkling telling me I'm not on the right track.  That's when I knocked on a door that revealed my own itch to me: I got canvassed.  (Maybe I shoud've recruited her?)  This woman told me how she volunteers for a NGO that is working to get campaigning caps since exorbitant amounts of money get poured into politics.  And it clicked: I wasn't happy canvassing because I don't think that Obama or Clinton really needs the money I was working for to win in November.  I'd go door to door and sign up voters in a heart beat or talk to people who are not already on board.  I believe so much in people and their ability to be or get educated and make good decisions.  I'll ask for money if I see a clear need, but that woman helped me understand my discomfort by pointing out the millions already at work on these campaigns.  Since I can't do work that I disagree with on some level, I called my supervisor at that moment and quit.  It seemed a bit rash, but I'd been so uncomfortable with myself at that work that it only made sense. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quitting was so liberating.  It's the first time in a long time that I needed to make a go-with-the-gut decision and they're always hard, but weight-lifting.  Who knows?  Maybe I'll canvass for Save the Children or another NGO.  I want to be in community organizing, so door-to-dooring is definitely necessary, but I will only do it when I'm fully convicted and with th cause.  I learned that I really cannot do things that are unclear and involve taking from others.  I'd rather not make money and live in a basement's of friends and work for peace, love, and kindness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some say politics will never change, and to some degree, it's true.  That's what citizens are for, we are meant to first elect politicians and even push candidates we believe in, but pushing issues in politics and on the streets is the top priority.  People have to love others with conviction and continually work on unquestionably genuine ways of living such love.  That's how good will come of politics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I can find a job that works for such issues and pushes them in the long run.  For now, I just hope I can pay rent for the summer and learn Hindi =).  Have any contacts for me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-8361556816279954949?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/8361556816279954949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=8361556816279954949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/8361556816279954949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/8361556816279954949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2008/05/self-vs-self-round-1.html' title='Self vs. Self: Round 1'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-1198183673630487971</id><published>2008-04-10T18:06:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T18:29:01.385-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain, Rain...Come Again...</title><content type='html'>Today it's raining hard.  40 degrees and relentless wind qualify this as a bit more than an April shower.  After my last class today I walked out of the back of the building directly onto the lake front.  Alone I walked to the edge and watched the huge wave crash into the boulders, letting the mist and rain blow directly into my face, blurring my tears into this storm.  I'm not exactly sure why I was crying and have a lump in my throat right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's because we had a death penalty mitigator come speak our Perspective on Life and Death class and she told stories of real people that she cares for and loves and recognizes humanity in, people who may get the death penalty.  People who are otherwise forgotten, hated, or, even worse and more common, targeted.  Maybe it's because the first client she talked about grew up in Austin on the West Side of Chicago, where I grew up, and he just didn't have the support a kid needs to be succeed.  Rather he had the context that makes talent into good drug dealers.  Maybe it's because when I was talking to our guest speaker after class and was saying bye to her my professor came over and lightly told her, "This is Mackenzie, she's one of those students who's going to cause some ripples in this world."  Maybe it's because I am realizing I have a solid number of people that have confidence that I will do just that...and I'm afraid of wasting my gift because I'm not quite sure what that gift is.  Maybe it's because I know I'm privileged and do not know how to be grateful and not guilty, how to make my actions speak my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I have the gift of an impeccable upbringing.  One in which I was cared for and even spoiled some, but not unexposed or hidden from realities.  I know I have friends who care a lot about me and parents and professors and chaplains I can go to for advice or direction.  I know I better not blow it.  And I know it's a bit ridiculous to get so upset and unsure at times.  I'm just not sure what to do with myself, how to properly, or preferably unconventionally, give myself to others.  My big decisions are almost always choosing between very positive things.  My life is busy with wonderful people and endeavors, hopefully making a positive impact in some way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes when I feel and hear and see parts of our world lacking in love my heart flows over and the tears spill out.  I feel a little slapped in the face as my burdens are of "what's next?" when I know the best way to live is right now.  Sometimes, like now, I just need to vent to regain my perspective and remember how to focus my energy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I just need to walk to the lake front in a storm and let it wash around me until I am cleansed, until the storm becomes the opportunity for peace and hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-1198183673630487971?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/1198183673630487971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=1198183673630487971' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1198183673630487971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1198183673630487971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2008/04/rain-raincome-again.html' title='Rain, Rain...Come Again...'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-4594875557264223101</id><published>2008-02-25T22:52:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T23:19:21.172-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Talks and thoughts</title><content type='html'>So I'm going to go ahead and assume no one checks this anymore, since I don't really, but I like to use it now and then =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a community book club meeting tonight to discuss Part I of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Nonviolent Cross.  &lt;/span&gt;After discussing it, I thought it would have been nice if I actually got the chance to read it.  We talked a lot about suffering and crucification, what's that mean?  What does it mean theologically?  What does it mean socially?  What does it imply in the way in which we choose to live our lives.  For the sake of not going on and on in my endless thoughts, I'll share the one discussion we had about the book that struck me the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book relates Gandhi and Christianity in the context of nonviolence (which will be clarified to me even more after actually reading the book).  In his discussion of Gandhi, Douglass cites Gandhi's fast for peace which nearly ended his life.  I've watched the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Gandhi &lt;/span&gt;movie, so I had the visual of him nearly dead lying on a cot on a second floor terrace from which he can hear the rioting that continues to corrupt his country.  Many people come to him who care deeply about him begging him to eat.  How can he just die when India needs him so badly?  How much will his voluntary death heal the divide?  Is it not remotely careless of him to die when he can do so much good in life?  I remember that as I watched the movie about 2 years ago, I did not quite get it.  I got that his hunger strike was to encourage peace because people loved him so much they might stop fighting for a while to keep him alive.  However, I did not get the deeper meaning.  I did not understand that by suffering until death if necessary was Gandhi's way of exposing the biases of humans, the lack of love we give to the marginalized, the humanity we strip from each other and the other.  What if we really embraced our humanity?  What if we challenged ourselves to love even if it means really suffering because we are convicted of its truth?  What if we all came to the poor, the suffering (from an oppressor or other things in life), the hungry, the sick, the marginalized, the rejected, and even the oppressors and begged them to live because we are there to help them because we believe their life is one worth living because we cannot stand the idea of their senseless death?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that is the point Gandhi makes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question always comes back around to how does this apply to my life?  I do not think a nonviolent path of suffering for others seeking out suffering because it seems in the context of our times it will come when we learn how to love our neighbors.  We must move for love in all of our interactions.  Love cannot be compartmentalized if we are to truly live.  I'm not sure we can fully lively without suffering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I do feel caution to say that each of our paths to follow Jesus are a little different.  I think this is a true statement, but I also think it gives too much leeway.  Personally, I use it sometimes as a rationalization that I am doing all that I can right now, but I think I can do more.  I am too comfortable materially for that to be true and I am to uncomfortable spiritually for that to be true.  Our paths are distinct, but there is a common challenge that confronts us, suffering that awaits us, and grace that sustains us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-4594875557264223101?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/4594875557264223101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=4594875557264223101' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4594875557264223101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4594875557264223101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2008/02/talks-and-thoughts.html' title='Talks and thoughts'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-7073969969015711976</id><published>2008-01-23T18:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T19:05:40.572-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Loyola and the MLK Jr. Celebration</title><content type='html'>I know I'm no longer in India, so the title of this blog is relatively moot, but meri pyari hindustan hai to (my love is India so) why not continue making some entries?&lt;br /&gt;Today Loyola Student Diversity hosted Judge Mathis, the guy with the show on the WB.  I've never been a big fan of judge TV shows, but I'm officially a Judge Mathis fan.  As he pointed out at the beginning of his talk Loyola provided quite a diverse crowd, which is good to see as oftentimes I go to campus events sponsored by or maybe geared towards a more specific background, but open to all and I find myself to be the odd one out; that was certainly not the case tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Judge Mathis was invited to Loyola to give a speech to commemorate the life and works of Dr. King.  He gave a powerful and humorous message that focused on doing our part, taking our own despite the social or pyschological barriers we may face because of our background or life experiences or maybe just general self doubt.  Proposing Dr. King and President Johnson were not the only primary actors in the Civil Rights Movement, he twisted a common expression and asserted that "Leaders are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; made, they are born."  Then, he paused, pointed out that we must be a bit confused and explained his stance, "Out of the yearning for justice of the people, leaders a born.  Out of the cry for justice of the people, leaders are born."  He went on to emphasize that the masses rather than the few affect progress and they are how Dr. King and President Johnson were in a position to step up and succeed.  He spoke of fear to step out and compete.  He told us of his struggle to get his law liscense after getting a law degree and passing the bar because he had offenses on put on his record at the age of 14.  Injustice.  However, in the face of adversity, he used the mistakes of his past to empower the future and I do believe that's what he did by spending this evening at Loyola.  I was refreshed by hearing his inspiring words and the call to action for our generation, one that may not be dealing with quite as blatant injustice, but perhaps that is what makes it a struggle.  We have to get over ourselves, over the fact that maybe it seems like a passion for change would have been more useful in the 1960s and recognize the opportunities of creating a more just world today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-7073969969015711976?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/7073969969015711976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=7073969969015711976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7073969969015711976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7073969969015711976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2008/01/loyola-and-mlk-jr-celebration.html' title='Loyola and the MLK Jr. Celebration'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-4298733297562555590</id><published>2007-12-21T10:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T11:18:41.365-06:00</updated><title type='text'>On the Home Front</title><content type='html'>warning: this entry has no logical order...&lt;br /&gt;It's Friday, I got home on Wednesday night.  It's nice, but I can't lie, I really miss India and it makes me sad to think I have no idea when I'll go back or how being there can play into my future (luckily I have no clue what's next for me after college, so there's always hope!)  Last night my dad asked me to make dinner because we were having a guest over...so I jumped on the opportunity to make Indian food!  I only made it one day...not even 24 hours in Nebraska before I was cooking and eating Indian food; I just don't want American food.  I got a Cinnabon when I was waiting in O'Hare for my next flight because it's my traditional airport food...but I didn't even enjoy it very much or finish it, which is unprecedented in my airport-Cinnabon eating career! &lt;br /&gt;Early Wednesday (to be more specific 12 am) morning Kritika and her parents drove me to the airport and said good bye...and I walked into my portal out of India.  I was surprised to find the bathrooms in Indira Gandhi International Airport to be sparkling clean, smelling good (not just neutral!), and with toilet paper.  That was a good thing, but it made me feel like I'd left India already.  The last week in Delhi I finally adjusted to the India way of using the toilet, which is a spray thing on the back of the rim of the toilet instead of toilet paper, and I missed it as I entered the western world again (it's really so much cleaner!)  The thing that struck me about the really nice bathroom was that Delhi is changing and so is India and I'm a little after that if I wait to long to go back it will not be Delhi anymore, and I'm a little afraid that sooner or later there will be no solid escape from the Western world.  I wrote a paper on Delhi's plans for preparation for hosting the 2010 Commonwealth Games, which is like the Olympics for countries that used to be part of the British Empire.  There are sooo many modernizing plans, which is good.  I mean, it's good to have trashcans on the streets because those don't exist now (I carried around trash for many hours on a regular basis despite the encouragement of Indians to liter on their streets...because someone has a job by picking up this trash and what will happen to them if nobody liters?)  It's good that the Metro is expanding across the city, but is this great expenditure to serve the upper class ok in the face of desperate poverty?  Does modernization just mean further marginalization and mistreatment of the poorest people because if it does I don't want Delhi to get any more modern.  There's no easy answer though and for some reason I'm sure Delhi will always be something complete contrary to what I'm used to in the US.  I have hope that God is too good to let all diversity fade away into one bland world.&lt;br /&gt;So getting home.  Snow!  yay! Cold...cold.  Yeah.  On the plane I winced at the idea of getting chicken casserole and asked for the veg dish because I've gotten so accustomed to eating veg and in India generally find it tastier, but I was now traveling London-Chicago and there veg food meant nasty white pasta in cheese.  What a tragedy!  I remembered why I eat meat here. &lt;br /&gt;Seeing Mom and Dad was great, no doubt about that.  And seeing my friends is just very =)&lt;br /&gt;When I got home Wednesday night my mom flicked the light on by accident and I immediately said "ah! the electricity is out!" to which my mom responded by flipping another switch on and the lights that brightened highlighted for me that I was no longer in India.  The amount of water in our toilets freaked me out at first.  Taking a shower in my shower that has very, very high water pressure made me feel more gulity and hectic to get out of there and turn off the water than soothed by its warmth.  The tea I attempted to make was no chai.  The Christmas cookies are good though, some things don't change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-4298733297562555590?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/4298733297562555590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=4298733297562555590' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4298733297562555590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4298733297562555590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/12/on-home-front.html' title='On the Home Front'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-4194957920431668728</id><published>2007-12-12T22:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T22:42:54.179-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Himalayans, visas, and Millet Trucks</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; was amazing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well, I guess most of the time I was there I slept, but the value of that should not be downplayed!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My friend Julia and I flew out Sat, Dec. 1&lt;sup&gt;st&lt;/sup&gt; on a short 1 hour 15 minute flight into &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Kathmandu&lt;/st1:place&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The view from the plane was beautiful, there were rolling mountains with fog in the midst of them and others whose mossy looking blankets could be plainly seen and, of course, the back drop of the snow peaks of the Himalayans.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I could see little tiny roads that looked like they had been drawn on the side of the mountains not like something that was physically flat…that one could drive on, but I’ll come back to those later.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Getting a Nepalese visa at the airport was easy and we were greeted by a man holding a “Mr. Macken-zie” sign from our guest house, which made me laugh quite a bit.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There was a peace rally in the neighborhood we stayed in, Thamel, Saturday night, but it looked more like a rave party with crazy people and crazy techo music, but anything that promotes peace is good on my list.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Thamel is the tourist hub of &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Kathmandu&lt;/st1:place&gt; to say the least.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think I saw more foreigners there than natives.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They come mostly from Europe and Japan and Australia to go on treks in the Himalayans, so Thamel caters to them offering a weird range of restaurants, from traditional Nepalese food to Roadhouse Café (American pizza) to the random (amazing!) falafel stand (the guy who came and ate there when we were eating there said they tasted as good as the ones he had in Israel…), to a number of little “European” bakeries, let’s not forget the a Spanish place, and of course, the New Orleans Café.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We ate mostly at this Organic Garden Café though since Julia was recovering from food poisoning and, well, the food was taaasty.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The shops there are also quite aware of the tourists and consistently try to royally ripe you off, much more than even the worst ripper-offers in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Delhi&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;, so we had a good time haggling with them (it helped to use Hindi since they speak Nepalese and Hindi and it shows we’re not complete tourists).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Despite the annoyance of bargaining so much, the Nepalese people were really nice and we often ended up talking to (and even having tea with) the people we had just spent 20 minutes arguing with about prices, so that was nice.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;I did end up getting a visa without much of a hassle.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I just had to wait in line for about 3 hours and, even the Embassies do the same, pay the special 1500 rupee “American fee,” not even a foreigners fee, an American fee!!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The people there were really helpful though, so now I’m legally back in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; as long as I leave by Dec. 20&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt;, which is the plan anyway =)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;We decided we ought to go on a trek at least once while we were there, but there was only one place we could get to easily from &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Kathmandu&lt;/st1:place&gt;, so we went.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(Everywhere else required either “a 20 minute flight” or an “11 hour mountain drive,” clearly most people who go there are not college students…)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;With the help of a little man bundled in his scarf and mittens on the corner, Julia, Charles (a friend of a friend who was also in Kathmandu for a visa), and I found the right bus to the path that leads to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Shivapuri&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt;  &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;National Park&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;, our trekking destination.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well, let me clarify, by bus I mean mini van with one extra row of seats.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We had to watch a few go by because they were bursting full of people, but finally one came that was only stuffed so we jumped in to upgrade it to bursting status (I counted, there were 27 people in that van…)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Anywho, we made it to our stop, took a look at a sleeping Shiva temple place (there was a huge Shiva floating in a pool of water and flowers, looked pretty relaxed to me!) were Hindus were making offerings and then began our trek.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When we reached the National Park gate there was a 250 rupee foreigners’ fee (opposed to the Rs. 10 Nepalese fee), which Charles argued about for a while, but then we eventually just paid it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Charles filled out the tickets, while Julia and I talked, but when we gave them to us after we were through security we were both a bit confused.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Mine said, “Name: Madeup Name, Nationality: Swedish,” while Julia’s name was “Julia Blahblah,” also Swedish.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We were like, “Charles!!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But, like he said it really didn’t matter.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He said that the guard read my name over his shoulder as he wrote it, “Maad-up Naaa-may.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Enough said.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;We walked about 1 ½ hours to a crazy-long staircase that led to a Buddhist monastery.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The view from the top was awesome: little terraced farms with colorful crops and homes with hay roofs, mountains and trees and a river winding through it all to the outline of a city in the distance.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;*refreshing*&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Prayer flags were hanging from many trees and poles in the monastery, and it seemed a bit odd that this place was so peaceful and removed in a supposedly dangerous country.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If I had not been warned about “how dangerous &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; is” I don’t think I would’ve noticed anything odd, and even with such warning the only visible evidence was the number of army guys around and I think UN soldiers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After relaxing at the top of the mountain (and the mountain of stairs) we decided to move along.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I wanted to go back the way we came because I wasn’t feeling at the top of my game as I had a sinus infection, but they were all for “going a new way,” so after consulting a man that didn’t exactly seem like he knew what he was talking about we decided to continue the way we were going to the next town and catch a bus from there.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This man said it should take “1 or 2 hours…bus.” We said, “no, no, we’re walking, by foot, by foot.” Him, “Ohh k…1 or 2 hours.” My mind: we’ll be out here for a while.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Either way we went and the views and farms we saw were charming to say the least.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After about 1 ½ hours a truck (the only vehicle we’d seen all day) stopped going the other way and asked where we were heading.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We told him “Sundarjal” and asked how long to walk…he said 2 hours from there…to which his friend started laughing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They offered us a ride, which we refused, then continued on.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As evening turned into a pleasant pink haze of sunset outlining the trees on the edge of the mountain, the charm of the experience started to fade away into “it’s dark and I’m on a trail in the middle of nowhere!!!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was only 5:15 or so, but the sun was set and there was almost no moon, so we stumbled along the rocky path in the darkness as we had no other choice and still had hope we weren’t too far off.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After Charles had managed to stub his toe bad enough that it bled and I was starting to wonder if we’d be out there for the night, we heard an engine.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Thank goodness!! In about 20 minutes the sound was very close, so we stopped walking and rejoiced at the sight of headlights.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We flagged the truck down and asked it we could hitch a ride.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The guys in the truck said, “sure, hop on the back!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So we climbed on top of all their goods, mostly bags of millet I think and off we went!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ve always wanted to hitch hike, but I never thought I get the chance because I was lost in the dark on the Himalayans.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was awesome!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well, let’s be honest, my mind kept switching between “This is amazing!!!” and looking at the millions of stars and the deep blue sky falling in around the mountains and (excuse my French) “Oh SH*T!! I’m going fall off this millet truck and die in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;!!”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Needless to say, we made it ok, but not to where we needed to go and as there weren’t many options (well, there were some guys who said they’d motorcycle us down if we paid them a lot) we stayed at a base camp for the night for only Rs. 100.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We met a guy there named Jeff from &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;New Hampshire&lt;/st1:State&gt; who had been in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; for more or less 5 years working on water projects which sounded both necessary and neat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;also knew perfect Nepalese (which was amaaazing!) and helped us figure out our options for the night.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He said some Maoists had been there the night before rallying (nonviolently)--that was…comforting.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There was no electricity there between 5 and 7:30, which was perfect for star gazing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m sure I’ve never seen so many stars in my life, my mouth just dropped open in awe and I wanted to just gobble them up! (that’s kind of an Indian expression when you really love someone/thing, you gobble them up! Usually kids =) )&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Basically our poor decision to “go a new way” ending up being an irreplaceable experience, I loved it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;The next day I got my visa and so Julia and I hopped on a bus because we thought flying would be too expensive.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What’s a 36 hour bus ride anyway!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ok, so if you’ve actually read all I’ve written today, you’ll remember the little roads that didn’t look like roads from the airplane I mentioned?? Yes, those are the roads we drove on…for 48 not 36 hours!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This perplexed me because it’s 1 hour 15 minutes on a Chicago-Omaha flight, the same as a Delhi-Kathmandu flight, but the drive from &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Omaha&lt;/st1:City&gt; to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:City&gt; is only 7 or 8 hours with &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; traffic.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After we got over the fact that it was taking us longer to go back to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Delhi&lt;/st1:City&gt; from &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; than it would take us to go from &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Delhi&lt;/st1:City&gt; to the &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;US&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;…well it didn’t get better, but it got over after 2 days.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There were many ridiculous bus quirks that I won’t mention, but I must mention that the racial profiling at the India-Nepal boarder was alarming. They came on the bus to check bags and they were opening all of them, but when I picked my up to give the army dude, he was like “this is yours?” which I affirmed and then he said “it’s ok” and didn’t even give it a second glance.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;On the Indian side I didn’t even take the bag from under my seat, said it was mine, and he moved along.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After which I thought I should just tell him all the bags were mine to quicken the process a bit…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;I won’t drag this on any longer, suffice to say, &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Nepal&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; was quite an experience!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now I’m back in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Delhi&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; enjoying friends, being confused by the cooler weather, and getting really excited to come home to snow and Christmas!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-4194957920431668728?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/4194957920431668728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=4194957920431668728' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4194957920431668728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4194957920431668728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/12/himalayans-visas-and-millet-trucks.html' title='Himalayans, visas, and Millet Trucks'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-2299598957955735478</id><published>2007-11-28T06:17:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T06:46:15.925-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/R01ioSegVpI/AAAAAAAAAEc/RlY6ddOn8CI/s1600-h/100_1826.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/R01ioSegVpI/AAAAAAAAAEc/RlY6ddOn8CI/s320/100_1826.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137871194193680018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So the rooms in Jaipur were awesome...Laura and I shard one as you can see..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/R01eViegVoI/AAAAAAAAAEU/y0hOlVnW59c/s1600-h/100_1881.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/R01eViegVoI/AAAAAAAAAEU/y0hOlVnW59c/s320/100_1881.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137866474024621698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;These kids kept asking me to take their picture and when I finally did they asked me for money and chocolate...at least they know what the good stuff is!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-2299598957955735478?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/2299598957955735478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=2299598957955735478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/2299598957955735478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/2299598957955735478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/11/so-rooms-in-jaipur-were-awesome.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/R01ioSegVpI/AAAAAAAAAEc/RlY6ddOn8CI/s72-c/100_1826.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-6664764273727674245</id><published>2007-11-28T05:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T06:15:59.327-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today I left a bit later than usual because I didn't have my usual Wednesday morning class.  I walked to the same bus stop I usually do and as I neared the intersection I saw the juice/food wallas that I always see pushing their cart where I get off the bus!  I had no idea they came so far, I thought they just crossed the street...ok, I thought it was amazing.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway,&lt;br /&gt;This whole I have to say good bye to people soon thing is not going over well with me.  My fellow American friends are mostly leaving next week while I'm in Nepal so I have to say bye to most of them on Friday...at least I know people all over the US now =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;processing...&lt;br /&gt;So I've been trying to think lately, that is, when I haven't been trying to finish up my stuff for finals...I've been trying to figure out what coming to India has meant to me.  It has certainly meant a whole new group of amazing friends, people I will never forget and pray I will see again.  It has meant a growing up of sorts...not so much in the sense that I've seen things in the world that I never knew existed, but more that I'm in that phase in life where I begin to establish how I will live.  The kids on the street that always ask "ek rupee de do" (give one rupee) or try to sell me magazines, flowers, mosquito swatters, flashy light thingys, etc when I'm in an auto rickshaw sitting at a stop light can not have their life changed by me.  I can't give them in bath in a proper tub instead of the muddy rain puddle on the corner (that they nevertheless have fun swimming in), I can't comb their hair, I can't teach them to read, I can't tell them everything is going to be ok.  But I can live in the little things.  I've been reminded of the importance of living each moment intentionally.  With the kids, I can offer an orange if I have it, I can try out my Hindi and ask them their name and age and treat them like the interesting, goofy kids they are.  It's selfish in a way because I love to see them smile, but that's what I can do.  It's not anything to be happy about, helplessness in the face of injustice, but it's a grounding, a reason to make sure that I live my life in a responsible way, a way I hope living in community when I go home will nurture, a way that at least resembles Jesus' ways.  The day I was denied my visa and I thought I'd have to leave India December 4th and thus was practically in tears an autowalla kindly took me for free (which is unheard of) to a auto stand that had autos that would take me where I was going since it wasn't on his route.  I needed that kindness in that moment.  The small things.&lt;br /&gt;That being said, India has been more to me than a confirmation that trying to live justice is what I can try to do for the world and for my small part, it has been life.  The energy of the mornings and the hustle-bustle of the evening markets, the daily struggle with auto-walla prices (or anything else you want to buy), the crowded buses, animals in the streets, the never-ending honking, the smells, the spices, the overly friendly looks of strange men, the funny looks I get from our cook and our maid, Anita, the bright clothing, the tastes, the sights, the unexpected.  The way I realize everything will work out even if it's late or out of order or not exactly logical...this has certainly been a good "India" lesson for me.  The home I left behind.  I people I LOVE LOVE LOVE and now know I could never life so far from in a permanent manner.  The truth that if I can come live in India, I can do many things and I'm really excited for whatever it is I may be doing next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Thomas Merton prayer Father G gave at Loyola last year before we took the bus to the SOA protest in Georgia...I turn to it a lot (and if I type it here then if I loose the sheet I'll still have it!):&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea where I am going.  I do not see the road ahead of me.  I cannot know for certain where it will end.  Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.  But I believe that the desire to please You does, in fact, please You.  And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing.  I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.  And I know that if I do this You will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.  Therefore I will trust you always thought I may be lost in the shadow of death.  I will not fear, for You are ever with me, and You will never leave me to face my perils alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-6664764273727674245?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/6664764273727674245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=6664764273727674245' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/6664764273727674245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/6664764273727674245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/11/today-i-left-bit-later-than-usual.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-8819866437738033094</id><published>2007-11-26T08:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T09:04:12.144-06:00</updated><title type='text'>hellos, goodbyes, and shaking some earth</title><content type='html'>This weekend we took our last trip as an IES group to Jaipur, which is about a 6 hour bus ride south of Delhi (a drive that would take maybe 3 or 4 in the US).  It was nice to be with everyone and the forts, etc. were cool, but I'm getting a bit monument-ed out.  However, we got to ride an elephant, so it was totally worth the drive!  We also stayed in a cute inn that had homey rooms and we caught the last five minutes of Dumb and Dumber dubbed in Hindi.  And, as always, the food was ya ya yummy.  On the bus ride home we stopped at the ultimate tourist oasis to use restrooms and we were all appalled by the prices.  The chai was 40 rupees and the candy bars were 50 rupees (about Rs. 37-40=$1).  I got lunch today for Rs.13, took the bus for Rs.5, and bought a dress for Rs.20, and I'm very upset if I have to pay 70 or 80 for a 10-11 kilometer auto ride home.  Suffice to say, I'll have trouble buying anything when I return to the US  (which is ok since I'll be broke from being here...) &lt;br /&gt;This is my last week of classes so I have finals and tests and it's oh so much fun.  Today I was woken up at 4:43 by some shaking.  I thought it was our upstairs neighbors at first because sometimes I hear them moving stuff around...but then I realized they never actually make my room vibrate.  By the time I realized it was probably an earthquake it was over, so I got up, went to the bathroom and slept the last 15 minutes of my night.  Later I did wonder if it was a bomb blast too because there were some in Lucknow, Varanasi, and Farizabad last week, but the news confirmed that it was just a 4.3 level earthquake.  Even in my last few weeks here, Delhi never ceases to surprise me.&lt;br /&gt;The last week or so I've been cherishing my morning bus rides to the hospital my friend Bacchus picks me up from to go to college.  I always go to the same stop and wait and tells all the autos that stop no (I still have pride for taking Delhi buses!) and notice the looks of people surprised I'm waiting for the bus.  I'm starting to recognize some of the bus money collectors and no longer really care too much if the bus is overloaded, this time of year the coziness is welcome as the mornings are chilly.  If I do get a seat I can watch the sun in its last few minutes as a red disk before it hazes higher into the sky.  I can see the sari-clad, shawl wrapped women ride their bikes, which always amazes me as I sometimes even get my pants caught in a bike.  Then there are the tall bushes with bright pink flowers and their purple remains scattered underneath.  The "Vasant Sqaure Mall" that's being constructed is next.  Now it even has smartly landscaped gardens in the front, but the real mall is the row of fairly large stands of fruit and clay pots and buckets that follow.  I feel like I'm changing countries when the mall complex ends and the shake-like shops begin.  When we were in Jaipur we went to a tourist shopping center that was inside...and I realized I felt very uncomfortable buying anything because the shops weren't outside.  Funny, na?  Finally, the bus reaches the hospital and I get down, sometimes as the bus rolls a bit and stand on the corner waiting for Bacchus whose always at least 5 or 10 minutes late.  I'm not sure why I continue to be punctual in my waiting for him because I know I will have to if I leave on time, but now that I have waited so much I've come to enjoy watching the normal procession of people from my corner.  The same school buses come by at the same time and the same big hummer-like vehicles with the same foreign passengers that must live in Delhi, the dogs waking up and beginning their day of roaming, and, my personal favorite, the juice and food stand guys that push their cart into the traffic lanes, wait at the lights like the cars and then running full force when the light changes to make the turn right (like us making a left) and skidding their feet on the pavement to slow the cart down on after a successful venture into traffic.  By then usually Bacchus shows up.  This week I have to say good bye to those mornings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily I'm only focusing on saying Hello to my Ramjas friends as I tell them I'll be visiting after I return from Nepal, God willing.  Right now though, I need to get acquainted with my studies for my history final tomorrow, so more of my ramblings on joys of India and sorrows of leaving soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-8819866437738033094?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/8819866437738033094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=8819866437738033094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/8819866437738033094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/8819866437738033094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/11/hellos-goodbyes-and-shaking-some-earth.html' title='hellos, goodbyes, and shaking some earth'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-9148034202458894967</id><published>2007-11-21T11:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T11:34:57.556-06:00</updated><title type='text'>chicken and airplanes</title><content type='html'>So, when my friends from Dubai were in town we visited the ISCKON Temple, which is...well...I'm not exactly sure what, but it is something amazing and I will be going back.  I took them there because I heard (from the grapevine) that there was a robot show, and I thought what could be more Delhi than a temple robot show!  I called the place (and quickly surrendered the phone to Nisha who's better at Hindi than I am) and asked when the show was.  The man said "shaam ko nau baje...pakka," meaning "9pm for sure," so our small band of foreigners showed up a bit after 9 and wondered around the huge complex asking "Aap maalum hai ki robot show  kahaan hai?" meaning "do you know where the robot show is?"...and how can I ask such a thing without feeling just a bit ridiculous?  We found the place, but the monks coming out told us the show stops running at  9!  Fortunately, they took pity on us as my friends were leaving the country and could not return and reopened the show for us.  Now, let me tell you, this was unforgettable.  We were ushered into a dark room and then a booming voice started telling us the story of Krishna as lights in a variety of colors and patterns revealed statues in front of us that basically were the first page of a life size story book.  It was a bit overwhelming. In the next room, when the lights were slowly raised the voice said "Look at yourself!  What do you see? Hands, a face, clothes..." etc etc and we were staring into a mirror.  I'm all for a variety of religious experiences, but I could not stop laughing (mostly because I looked goofy in a pirate shirt, skirt, and gym shoes...).  The tour progressed from room to room as such, and I'm pretty sure it's one of the best things I've done in Delhi.  I think Brie's favorite part was the room that explained the 3 kinds of people: the second type was "passionate," these people, among other things, "eat chicken and cause senseless violence," she really liked that jump.  Anyway, after the tour we were planning on eating in the cafeteria there (vegetarian, mind you), but it was closed since everything was already supposed to be closed.  The army guard, however, decided we should eat and asked the guard of the restaurant to go ask if we could still eat and we were momentarily ushered in.  The kindness of the people in this complex was awesome.  What can I say, I'm definitely going back for the apparently bigger show upstairs (it's 10 minutes longer...).&lt;br /&gt;**disclaimer: I thought the presentation was wacky, not the beliefs!**&lt;br /&gt;An update on my plans:&lt;br /&gt;I am going to Nepal to (hopefully) get a visa to stay in India!  But at the moment all I can think about is the music I can hear from the wedding in our neighborhood and how much it makes me want to dance! &lt;br /&gt;HAPPY THANKSGIVING!&lt;br /&gt;(please don't eat turkey then cause senseless violence...like playing football...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-9148034202458894967?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/9148034202458894967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=9148034202458894967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/9148034202458894967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/9148034202458894967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/11/chicken-and-airplanes.html' title='chicken and airplanes'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-2631869356179392123</id><published>2007-11-18T05:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T07:17:00.626-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it's not the end...</title><content type='html'>Things have started to move a bit faster than I'd like...they say all good things must come to an end, but I'm currently trying to put off this ending until at least December 19.  I've been traveling all over the net to figure what I have to do to get to Nepal and get a tourist visa to stay in India and if this happens I will be a very happy camper...&lt;br /&gt;Anyway,&lt;br /&gt;Diwali was tons of fun.  My friend Jessica (who I've known since 7th grade) was in Delhi for a day with her study abroad program, so she came over, which I'm still not sure was actually real.  After hastily getting clad in saris with the help of Anita, the maid that lives with us, we did a pooja with my host family that consisted of my host mother saying some prayers and making offerings to the Ganesh and Rama (I think...) in the form of sweets.  My host mom also gave us each some money because she said it was part of the tradition and was auspicious...I said I liked this tradition =).  Then all the candles were lit.  The house was glowing, but all the lights were to be kept on for the duration of the festival too so the only the candles outside on the terrace really got to shine.  Food was next, and, as always, delicious.  Finally came the (fire)crackers.  My host mom had bought 4 or 5 boxes of them, which we took down to the park across the street and added to the supplies of all the neighbors.  We spent a good 1 1/2 hours watching kids and aunties dash back and forth lighting things that shot up or just sparkled or spun around, it was absolutely crazy and entertaining.  Around 11:30 pm I accompanied Jessica back to her hotel, which was across Delhi and we could hardly even see on the streets (and it was no easy task to get a ride since everyone was busy celebrating!)&lt;br /&gt;Other fun events of late:&lt;br /&gt;I went to a Indian cooking class last weekend which was lots of fun and very tasty...I'm hoping I can replicate some of the stuff without too much of a disaster when I get home.  I'm kind of worried I won't eat back in the US because I loooove Indian food so much.  I also have a lower of opinion of American food now because the only American food in India really doesn't taste right: milk shakes with no icecream, hamburgers with no beef, questionable lasagna, grilled cheese that consists of two slices of toasted bread with cold cheese in the middle...&lt;br /&gt;Last Sunday we took a trip to what is kind of like a suburb to Delhi called Gurgaon.  Gurgaon is interesting because, as my professor put it, it looks like a movie set.  There are all these huge malls with more being constructed and slick high-rise office buildings plunked on top of Indian village life.  The streets are still mostly brown dirt and host the traffic of a variety cattle drawn carts (we even saw an elephant...), people, old cars...tourist buses and sleek new cars for the people that can actually afford these malls.  Gurgaon is also home to many manufacturing plants for companies like the clothing stores H&amp;amp;M and Gap (often made in the same plant) and other brand names we are quite familiar with in the US.  Oh, and let's not forget, the call centers.  Many of the calls we place in the US for technical assistance or to file complaints come in here to people who are overworked, underpaid, and stuck in between worlds.  Many of them are given false names that they use with their best American accent while they listen to problems from across the world with limited bathroom breaks and food breaks.  Such jobs create a lot of stress for the workers and place them in an odd dichotomy of cultures and personalities.  I think there's a good documentary on this...I'll get the name of it and update this sentence =).  Some of the flashy buildings there are not plastered with the company's name in an effort to be inconspicuous, but I think they already missed that boat.  Just by looking at the streets one must wonder how these businesses are sustained.  The ones that cater to overseas customers I can understand, but the malls that rely on local consumers I can't imagine will last long as they house stores of high line brand names that even I, someone who can afford auto rides over buses if I please, will not venture into.  In fact, today my host sister Juhi asked if I understood Indian currency, meaning, did I get that something that costs 100 rupees (about $2.50) is expensive and I said yes because when I hear 100 now I do think it's a lot.  But these stores have jeans easily upwards of Rs. 2,000...I'll be interested to see how it all plays out.  My professor said they always look crowded in the summer, but most people go there to enjoy the free air conditioning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent most of Monday at the Office of Home Affairs trying to get my student visa extended and almost crying upon the denial.  Like most things here, this office is not terribly organized and was crowded and basically fend-for-yourself.  After 3 hours of that I got to talk to a guy who told me "you have until December 5th, that's a long time!" and I could not explain to him I'm just not ready to leave this place...not to mention I already changed my plane tickets to December 19th.  In conclusion, I'm making a trip to Nepal (I hope) December 1 because if I leave the country I can apply for an Indian tourist visa.  I'm excited to visit a new country, which I hear is beautiful, but figuring out all the paper work and travel plans at the moment makes me want to marry a sketchy Indian man so I can get a visa and he can get a green card, then we'd all be happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday I went with my friend Kritika to her family friend's wedding.  Basically there was a lot of food, colors, sparkles, and people.  We were there for the bride's side so we hung out in the reception area for about an hour while the groom's side processed from somewhere else dancing and singing.  The bride wasn't there however: she doesn't come until 1/2 hour after the groom arrives.  Then they are picked up and put garlands on each other and take pictures, etc. until they go up to a fire for a pooja that officially marries them.  I felt a bit sorry for the bride because she had such a heavy saree on and so much jewelry I wasn't sure how she could sit upright let alone walk, but she was certainly beautiful! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday my friend Bree FROM LOYOLA!! flew in with a few of her friends from Dubai where she is studying for the semester.  Needless to say, I was thrilled to see her (and bummed to say goodbye today!)  As I tried to plan things for them to see around Delhi I realized there is a lot I haven't done yet (which makes this visa thing even more imperative!)  It was a lot of fun taking them to Old Delhi and shopping, and let's not forget to Agra to see the Taj.  While in Agra we also saw the Agra Fort, which was very cool: complete with an apartment that views the Taj for Shah Jahan when he was kept in house arrest there by his son so he could look up on the grave of his beloved wife, a beautiful garden in the middle of the harem, a mote, and things that definitely resembled secret passage ways.  Monuments and activities aside though, being their tour guide of sorts made me realize how comfortable I really have gotten in Delhi and with navigating from here.  I feel like I'm finally getting the hang of things and my Hindi is a bit more functional and now I have to go! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I sent Bree and company back to the airport =( and have the wonderful tasks of final papers and tests ahead of me, some  things I can't even escape in India!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-2631869356179392123?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/2631869356179392123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=2631869356179392123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/2631869356179392123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/2631869356179392123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/11/its-not-end.html' title='it&apos;s not the end...'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-3625549810382785024</id><published>2007-11-08T20:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T21:31:52.862-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPUeruCrtI/AAAAAAAAAEM/pmvS32dGakc/s1600-h/100_1650.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPUeruCrtI/AAAAAAAAAEM/pmvS32dGakc/s320/100_1650.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130678024102129362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPTg7uCrsI/AAAAAAAAAEE/jl8UdhVCL3E/s1600-h/100_1630.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPTg7uCrsI/AAAAAAAAAEE/jl8UdhVCL3E/s320/100_1630.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130676963245207234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;there was a bunch of large pine cones...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPSI7uCrrI/AAAAAAAAAD8/rDu1-pZiYlk/s1600-h/100_1633.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPSI7uCrrI/AAAAAAAAAD8/rDu1-pZiYlk/s320/100_1633.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130675451416719026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;an amazing tree spotted on our hike, trees make me happy =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPQ8buCrqI/AAAAAAAAAD0/s4Sg9tDFF8w/s1600-h/100_1593.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPQ8buCrqI/AAAAAAAAAD0/s4Sg9tDFF8w/s320/100_1593.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130674137156726434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;hanging out...we did 'river crossing,' but the river was pretty much dry, so it was more 'open space crossing,' which was almost as exciting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPJTruCrpI/AAAAAAAAADs/qAcxhKp-fuo/s1600-h/100_1560.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPJTruCrpI/AAAAAAAAADs/qAcxhKp-fuo/s320/100_1560.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130665740495662738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;sunrise over the himalayans...or whatever extension of them stretches south....from the train we took to our camping trip at a hillstation.  What a peaceful sight to wake up to after a night on the train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPIGruCroI/AAAAAAAAADk/WyAooryHCFw/s1600-h/100_1548.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPIGruCroI/AAAAAAAAADk/WyAooryHCFw/s320/100_1548.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130664417645735554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Radhika enjoying the balloons at the Durga Pooja celebration in our neighborhood.  (I actually liked them a lot too because they had elastic strings on the ends so you could bop them around...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-3625549810382785024?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/3625549810382785024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=3625549810382785024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/3625549810382785024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/3625549810382785024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/11/there-was-bunch-of-large-pine-cones.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RzPUeruCrtI/AAAAAAAAAEM/pmvS32dGakc/s72-c/100_1650.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-1425839654902305327</id><published>2007-11-07T06:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T06:35:16.095-06:00</updated><title type='text'>November, na?</title><content type='html'>Ooook!  I can't believe the day after tomorrow is Diwali!  Here Diwali is kind of like Christmas in that colorful lights are put up everywhere, lots of people go shopping, parents are a bit stressed out, and it's pretty much the biggest holiday in the country.  Diwali is a Hindu holiday that celebrates Lord Rama's return from his victory over Ravana.  Upon his return, oil lamps were lit, so light is a big part of this festival; the candles and strings of lights that illuminate the darkness of Diwali, which always falls on a new moon (or whatever it is when there is no moon in the sky...), symbolize the victory of good over evil and truth over all.  On the ground this means I have 4 large boxes of firecrackers in the corner of my room ready to burst in excitement like the rest of us in 2 days time.  The festivities started long ago, but now the rush is in full swing.  This morning my host mom woke me up at 5:30 am to go to the flower market.  She said we went so early to miss the rush, which was true as far as roads are concerned, but in the darkness of dawn we could hardly find space to put our feet as we bought flowers (she said it was just the florists...I don't want to see it when it's actually crowded...)  The flower market in the moonlight was pretty...pretty (aside from the man peeing on the side of road next to where we parked the car).  I tried to navigate the market, which was probably about the length of a downtown block in Chicago and was packed with stalls and stalls of whole sale flower sellers, under the guise of my hoody so my host mom wouldn't have to worry about them raising prices at the sight of a foreigner =).  My host mom bought a TON of flowers, so our house is smelling quite good at the moment.  But I guess I should talk about Diwali after it happens...so&lt;br /&gt;This weekend we went to a village called Abhepur, in the state of Haryana about 1 1/2 hours south of Delhi.  This was our exposure to "village life," which was a refreshing break from the city.   Our trip was organized by a NGO called Vision of India, so they showed us the weaving centers they started and introduced us to the women that run them and profit from them (we even got to try some weaving.)  My favorite part was the night and early morning.  Julia and I stayed with a family that lives in a mud hut and it was wonderful.  We tried out our Hindi skills with the family and they let us help make rotis over a fire fueled by cow dung patties (or cakes...whichever word you prefer...and they don't smell for the record).  At night we could see all the stars and the thumbnail moon from our cots.  I loved it!  Of course, good things never last too long and we got up at around 5 am to walk to the outskirts of the village and attempt to do yoga...let's just say our "OOM"s were accompanied by a fair big of laughter.  As clean and tidy and welcoming as the mud hut and our host family were, toilets were lacking, so I added my pile of poo to the cow, goat, and who knows what else in the bushes because one can't do yoga under such conditions...&lt;br /&gt;More on this later I think...I have to string lights for Diwali!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-1425839654902305327?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/1425839654902305327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=1425839654902305327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1425839654902305327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1425839654902305327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/11/november-na.html' title='November, na?'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-4317126283585021481</id><published>2007-10-30T00:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T00:43:23.567-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh What a Day!</title><content type='html'>I feel like there are about a million things I could talk about write now...so I'll just see what comes out...&lt;br /&gt;This morning after arriving in Delhi at 5:30am after a weekend spent at a hill station I began to get calls from friends in Delhi wishing me Happy Birthday!  I was a bit into the routine and sitting on the terrace when I got a call from a number I didn't recognize...I wasn't sure if I should answer, but I thought, why not?  I did and it was Roshni, Jenny, and Jeff calling me from LOYOLA!  Now I hadn't spoken to anyone in the US since July, so you can imagine my excitement (I cried, hahaha).  *sigh*  That was the best birthday surprise ever...and I'm hoping no one else at home plans on calling me because I don't think I can emotionally handle it!  *thanks guys for making me crazy happy and emotional, lol*  Reconnecting with home is strangely head clearing, feels good =)  Today is also Jackie's birthday (another American student here), so we'll probably get all dressed up and go out with the group =)&lt;br /&gt;other events...&lt;br /&gt;The hill station trip this weekend was with the English Department from Ramjas College, the college I attend here in Delhi.  It was really nice to get to know my classmates better and to spend some time out of the city.  The camp we went to reminded me a lot of fall in Chicago because the weather was cooler and the leaves were falling; it was nice to feel at home.  We got to repel down the side of a...mini cliff I guess you could and cross a crevice strapped to some ropes, which was my favorite...I decided I need to put one of those ropes over Delhi for my morning commute.  The fresh air and trees and flowers and cricket game I got to play were all relaxing and refreshing.  The only unfortunate part of the weekend was that I got my first bout of Delhi Belly (or maybe not, since I wasn't in Delhi...); suffice to say I spent Sunday night throwing up...6 times in the woods.  I was well cared for though...Indian hospitality is always overwhelming, so I felt very well cared after since I was camping with 36 Indians. &lt;br /&gt;a random note...&lt;br /&gt;Last week I got on a bus from the a market called INA (where I failed to find marshmallows for our camping trip...) to our study abroad center.  When I got on, some people were already standing and offered me a newly vacated seat, which I gladly took.  At the next 2 stops the bus got absolutely packed, so much so that at the next stop the people waiting to get on didn't even try to get on...which is a pretty big deal in Delhi because there's always room for one more.  The only reason I mention this is because I found it quite comical.  If someone moved several rows back and on the other side of the bus I could feel them move because everyone had to shift for anyone to move and there were guys hanging out of the entrance and exit of the bus as if they were holding in a dam about to burst.  I was wondering how in the world I was going to get off this bus, but luckily it unpacked at the stop before mine.  *oh delhi*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-4317126283585021481?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/4317126283585021481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=4317126283585021481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4317126283585021481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4317126283585021481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/10/oh-what-day.html' title='Oh What a Day!'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-4155670371647962002</id><published>2007-10-22T10:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T11:03:42.809-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RxzJZ2uEkVI/AAAAAAAAADc/AIy3QM0m_CQ/s1600-h/100_1328.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RxzJZ2uEkVI/AAAAAAAAADc/AIy3QM0m_CQ/s320/100_1328.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124191922063446354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We got to see and use HUGE Chinese fishing nets...this fish actually just died I think...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RxzHtGuEkUI/AAAAAAAAADU/E7c4wuOHqHI/s1600-h/100_1426.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RxzHtGuEkUI/AAAAAAAAADU/E7c4wuOHqHI/s320/100_1426.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124190053752672578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;the backwaters of Kerala "God's Own Country" na?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RxzF1WuEkTI/AAAAAAAAADM/TsH1BBpdZeY/s1600-h/100_1481.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RxzF1WuEkTI/AAAAAAAAADM/TsH1BBpdZeY/s320/100_1481.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124187996463337778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Nairita (who is a lot happier than this pic shows) put this sari on me!  I was so pumped =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-4155670371647962002?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/4155670371647962002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=4155670371647962002' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4155670371647962002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4155670371647962002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/10/we-got-to-see-and-use-huge-chinese.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RxzJZ2uEkVI/AAAAAAAAADc/AIy3QM0m_CQ/s72-c/100_1328.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-916724375435845942</id><published>2007-10-22T10:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T10:32:04.426-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Burn Baby Burn!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"&gt;Yesterday &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Delhi&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; celebrated Desshera in flaming colors.  Desshera marks the day that Rama (whose life is told in the epic the &lt;i style=""&gt;Ramayana&lt;/i&gt;) defeats the evil Ravana and thus gets his wife Sita back.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ravana, I’m told, was actually quite a good fellow and he’s known to have 9 heads because he was so smart.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;His only down fall, and eventual demise, was his kidnapping of Sita.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To celebrate this, which symbolizes the triumph of good over evil, effigies of Ravana (and 2 of his brothers) are burned.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Tons of these effigies are made of all sizes and colors and on Desshera all of &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Delhi&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; is aglow with fireworks and burning Ravanas.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We went to a neighborhood near ours called RK Puram to watch.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When we arrived the street that these particular effigies were on was already packed.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;We parked where traffic usually flows and got out to try to find a good viewing spot, but couldn’t and instead sat on top of our car, from there we could see the heads of the 3 effigies, which were about 20 or 30 feet tall.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The view from cartop was spectacular: a street flooded with people and with trees of balloons that vendors were trying to sell floating in their midst and fireworks overhead.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Over a loud speaker we could hear the play of the &lt;i style=""&gt;Ramayana &lt;/i&gt;being acted out in Hindi, I could at least understand the evil “HAHAHA” of Ravana and the enthusiastic “Jai!” of the crowd when prompted by the actor of Rama.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The big fireworks went off right before Ravana was killed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then, in a blast, the whole 30 foot, beautifully painted effigy was eaten by flames in a matter of seconds – it was aaawesome!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As soon as Ravana was torched everyone dispersed, so we climbed down into the car.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was sure it’d take us at least an hour to get out because there were cars parked hodge podge in front and behind us (my host mom had actually moved our car closer to the others while we were perched on top…she may be crazier than I am), but we actually got out quickly.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While we waited in the car I felt like we were in a river moving against the flow because literally thousands of people were rushing around us in the other direction.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Even that was quite a site.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ve been told this is just the beginning of festival season, so I can’t wait for what comes next =)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-916724375435845942?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/916724375435845942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=916724375435845942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/916724375435845942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/916724375435845942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/10/burn-baby-burn.html' title='Burn Baby Burn!'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-9209237694308226294</id><published>2007-10-15T00:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T01:23:16.330-05:00</updated><title type='text'>God's Own Land</title><content type='html'>I'm back in Delhi after a relaxing trip to a state in south India called Kerala (it's the green one on the southwest tip on the map with my face on it).  Kerala is surprisingly urbanized for a state known for being lush and green.  That's not the only unique thing about Kerala though: it has an elected communist state government (or that's what I think our lecturer said), it only consumes, since it's economy basically runs on the money of Non-Resident Indians who have gone to the Middle East or US, and it's 80% Catholic.  We spent our time lounging in hotels, eating from the abundance of bananas and coconut flavored food, boating through the backwaters, and swimming in the Arabian Sea (beautiful!)  Kerala is also famous for its Ayurvedic massages, which many girls in our group had.  There were also tons of sari shops with intricate, heavy fabrics and elaborate jewelery, really kind of makes you want to be in a Bollywood movie so you can get all dressed up and dance around in those clothes. &lt;br /&gt;Now I'm back in Delhi enjoying October because it's festival season =)  Our neighborhood is all decorated for Navratri, which is basically a period of 9-10 days that are supposed to be very auspicious, so it is the time to make any investments or buy anything new or do basically anything that you want to turn out well.  Navratri also means tasty fasting food I found out yesterday (as opposed to fast food).  Instead of not eating at all, you don't eat certain foods, which means there are special foods you do eat, so basically, this is my kind of fasting!  Last night my host family did a puja at home and tied a red string around my wrist (which they had already tied on each other when I was out of town) to symbolize the auspicious time.  (The smoke detector IES required to be put in my room has since been taken out because when the whole neighborhood is burning incense is clay pots in the kitchen such things only make noise not sense...)  Festival season will continue pretty much until Diwali, which I think is November 9, so this next month should be lots of fun =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(another funny quote from my Hindi teacher: "Delhi autowalas treat everyone the same...above caste, creed, and sex [they are rude]."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-9209237694308226294?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/9209237694308226294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=9209237694308226294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/9209237694308226294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/9209237694308226294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/10/gods-own-land.html' title='God&apos;s Own Land'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-7386984382864678747</id><published>2007-10-07T06:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T07:09:15.378-05:00</updated><title type='text'>=)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RwjMCiLE-RI/AAAAAAAAADE/Dgkeycn-7VY/s1600-h/100_1298.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RwjMCiLE-RI/AAAAAAAAADE/Dgkeycn-7VY/s320/100_1298.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118565320411642130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm gonna miss these girls!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather here is starting to cool off a bit.  At night when I wake up to an itchy mosquito bite I'm actually happy to get under a sheet now, which is a nice change from the choice between more bites and a suffocating sheet.  This cooling off (although I still hesitate in using the word cool) has made my days much less sweaty and thus much more pleasant.  Cooler weather also means it's ok to turn on the oven so, I'm in the midst of baking the last of the first batch of chocolate chip cookies that my host sisters have ever made; it's been a completely delightful (and tasty!) task.  I taught a few of my friends how to make cookies here (because I consider it tragic that they've never tasted cookie dough), and it was really quite funny.  I was buying some ingredients with a pair of friends and one of them looks at me and says, "Do we need an...oven?"  And I'm like, "yeah..."  Her: "Like a microwave oven?"  Me: "no...like a real one..." So we solved the problem by just eating dough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I visited an NGO called Can Kids...Kids Can that works with kids who are dealing with cancer to see if I can start volunteering there.  I was glad that they said they could still use me despite my much less than fluent Hindi.  I'm disappointed with myself and IES that I'm just now starting to volunteer because I thought this all would get set up a lot sooner.  Of course though, I should have learned by now that here you have to do things yourself if you want them done and you have to network, so I heard of Can Kids through I think a chain of 3 people.&lt;br /&gt;Aside from the general practice of "knowing someone" that does or knows someone that does whatever you need, I've started to assimilate my ways to Indian ways.  From the first day I had a class at 8:40 am on north campus (a good 1 1/2 hours away) and was getting into a cycle rickshaw on the last link of my journey to class at 8:40 freaking out about being late to class til about last week I was still stuck in my American "need to be punctual" mindset.  This mindset is completely useless here as every time I've rushed to "be on time" or "not quite so late" and been anxious about it, I've always arrived and had to wait even longer.  This week I successfully said I was 20 minutes away when I really meant 35 and said I'm at homing walking out the door when I meant I'm almost to my house and still need to change and come.  I also made my first roti (flat &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;round &lt;/span&gt;bread we eat at most meals with some kind of vegetable), however square it was.  To top my India initiation I stepped in poop for the first time, which was a long time coming (there are lots of poop piles on the roads here).  I lasted about 2 1/2 months and it was only dog poop, so life is good.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we visited Rashtrapati Bhavan, which is the India's President's house.  It was built by the British back in the days when they planned to reign over India for the rest of time.  It's a very grand building with huge banquet halls, dance halls, beautiful official conference rooms, and, to top it all off, a stunning Mughal garden out back.  Despite the grandeur and Britishness of the structure, the structure of the tours there is very Indian and informal nowadays.  We had a tour guide, but in a group of 10, it would have been quite easy for any 1 to sneak off and explore any room, restricted or not, in the place.  I even got to play a few notes on the piano at the President's house, haha.  The garden has all kinds of roses and a grid of fountains and visible canals with clear blue water.  It was so refreshing, makes me glad the British built it before they finally left India alone.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow we're leaving for a week in the south Indian state of Kerala, which I've heard only good things about, so I'm really excited for a week of relaxation and beauty on the coast and in the backwaters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-7386984382864678747?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/7386984382864678747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=7386984382864678747' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7386984382864678747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7386984382864678747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/10/blog-post.html' title='=)'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RwjMCiLE-RI/AAAAAAAAADE/Dgkeycn-7VY/s72-c/100_1298.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-5767264566400403559</id><published>2007-09-29T07:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T08:07:57.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Salaam Baalak Walk</title><content type='html'>Today I went on a walk for my history class called Cities of Delhi lead by a ex-street kid who talked about life for street kids in Delhi.  The walks are organized by a NGO called the Salaam Baalak Trust, which does a variety of cool things for the street kids.  Our guide...whose name was Shakar I think...walked us through the New Delhi train station and surrounding neighborhood to show and tell us about the lives of Delhi street kids.  He said a lot of the street kids in Delhi are runaways from rural areas, who leave for a variety of reasons: poverty, abuse, boredom, fantasies of city life they've seen on TV, etc.  Our guide said he ran away from Bihar at age 12 because he'd gotten himself into gambling and drugs and realized that he was causing a lot of trouble and pain for his parents and didn't know a better way to turn his life around and stop troubling them (respect and love for parents is very profound here).  Many kids, like him, show up at the New Delhi train station without much of a plan, but are picked up quickly by other street kids...or if you are a girl, probably kidnapped by a pimp (the number of runaway girls and street girls is a lot lower for this reason).  The networking that happens between these children in an effort to get by is amazing.  He said they have essentially informal business relationships with the juice vendors at the station: sometimes sleeping on top of their shacks, sometimes using them as a bank of sorts, sometimes giving them some of the spoils of their train car raids.  They sometimes take the money stored at the juice vendors' place to pay police officers off so they don't get sent to the government shelter/prison.  They sell old magazines to the media stands and know how to act blind and mute to avoid trouble when traveling on trains without tickets.  Our guide said a lot of the kids would rather not go to a government shelter or with organizations like Salaam Baalak because the freedom they have on the streets is amazing and shelters make them study at certain times and bathe everyday!  (He wouldn't go until he was told there was a TV he could watch; apparently many of the kids are enthralled with Bollywood).  Our guide is now 20 and working on his MBA with dreams of being a Bollywood actor and has already been in a few short films.  He's now back in touch with his parents and has a very good relationship with them (and they are quite proud that he's fluent in English and working his way through college).  Needless to say, the achievements of some of the kids that go through Salaam Baalak are amazing.  (We got to say hi to some of the boys at one of the Salaam Baalak shelters, they were enthusiastic and happy...I really wish I knew enough Hindi to talk to them.)&lt;br /&gt;A word about Salaam Baalak:&lt;br /&gt;Salaam Baalak persuades kids on the streets to come to their shelter and lets them choose whether or not they want to stay.  Once there, they are first asked if there's any way they'd go home, if that is unsuccessful, they ask them about they dreams and desires and do their best to set them on that track.  It's really an amazing organization.  If you want to check out their website it's:&lt;br /&gt;http://www.salaambaalaktrust.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-5767264566400403559?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/5767264566400403559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=5767264566400403559' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/5767264566400403559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/5767264566400403559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/09/salaam-baalak-walk.html' title='Salaam Baalak Walk'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-654743779917409543</id><published>2007-09-27T10:15:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T10:38:44.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RvvN1CLE-QI/AAAAAAAAAC8/wRG-74MHXoo/s1600-h/100_1253.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RvvN1CLE-QI/AAAAAAAAAC8/wRG-74MHXoo/s320/100_1253.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114908112809425154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This one's for you pops...in some parts of the world they know clergy ought to be 'set apart.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RvvMkCLE-PI/AAAAAAAAAC0/yI3weGcm1_A/s1600-h/100_1238.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RvvMkCLE-PI/AAAAAAAAAC0/yI3weGcm1_A/s320/100_1238.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114906721240021234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The beach in Galle, on the southern coast of Sri Lanka, perhaps the Indian Ocean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RvvKwSLE-OI/AAAAAAAAACs/5CDnI071g0w/s1600-h/100_1219.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RvvKwSLE-OI/AAAAAAAAACs/5CDnI071g0w/s320/100_1219.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114904732670163170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We went to an elephant orphanage in a place called Pinnewala (I think)...they were pretty cool, but it was kind of sad to see some of them chained up and the deformities some of them had from poachers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-654743779917409543?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/654743779917409543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=654743779917409543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/654743779917409543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/654743779917409543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/09/this-ones-for-you-pops.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RvvN1CLE-QI/AAAAAAAAAC8/wRG-74MHXoo/s72-c/100_1253.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-7833147048307992308</id><published>2007-09-27T04:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T04:22:45.179-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I want KANDY!! (da daa da da da da)</title><content type='html'>Last week we had a break from our IES classes, so I hopped on a plane with my friend Parvoneh to visit her friend Will in a town called Kandy in Sri Lanka.  Even if Sri Lanka had been a miserable place, I think I would have been satisified just by staying in a place called "Kandy," but fortunately it was more, as the postcards say, a taste of paradise.  After a long day/night/morning of traveling, Parvoneh and I arrived in Kandy and found the hotel Will had booked for us.  We honestly weren't expecting too much because we travel and stay on students' budgets, but our room was very nice.  We had a balcony view of the Buddhist Temple of the Tooth, the lake in front of it, and the jungle all around.  That alone was quite relaxing after buses, trains, and planes.  And please ask me what the first thing I did in Kandy was =)  haha, right, I ate candy (but that's only because I was starving and the only thing in the fridge at the hotel was pop and chocolate, so it was basically forced on me.)  Anyway, Sri Lanka was beautiful.  On the train from Colombo (on its west coast) to Kandy (kinda in the middle) we saw the terrain change from beach to marshy farm fields (everything was dripping in green) to jungle.  It rained at least 10 times a day in light showers and drive-by downpours, but the rain cooled everything, so the weather there was fabulous (and I can't forget the wonderful lake breeze, which is so refreshing when one is used to Delhi).  The people of Sri Lanka are very nice too, which caught us off guard because we are used to friendly people in Delhi, who are almost always up to something.  After we let our guard down, we enjoyed their friendliness and hospitality.  Probably the best thing we did there was visit a girls' orphanage that Will's study abroad group goes to every week.  Basically we were told to just hang out with the girls and talk to them so they could practice their English.  It was so much fun, the girls were around 12 or 13 and full of energy and enthusiasm.  We discussed our favorite Bollywood heart throbs and played games...I was so sad that we had to tell them we weren't coming back even though everyone else would be.  Nevertheless they were truly a delight and blessing.  Everything else that was supercool is better told through photos...so I'll be trying to post those soon. &lt;br /&gt;Now I'm back in Delhi almost sad that we have a 2 week break coming up at Ramjas because that means I won't get to see my friends there for quite a while.  The timing is pretty good though since I have a test in one of my IES classes next week and some cookie baking lessons to schedule with my girl friends here that have never made chocolate chip cookies (which is a TRAGEDY!)  Things here are starting to form into some kind of routine, which is nice, and the weather has actually cooled down for a few days.  Manoj, one of our IES staffers, said it'll only stay cool if I believe it will...so I'm trying really hard to maintain faith and not let my conviction that Delhi never cools down win out.  I can't really escape the feeling that I'm on some kind of extended vacation (even though I'm taking classes, etc), which kind of frustrates me now and then because I guess I feel like I should be accomplishing something significant, but I think I'm starting to appreciate the opportunity to enjoy experiencing India and the chance to relax and breathe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-7833147048307992308?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/7833147048307992308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=7833147048307992308' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7833147048307992308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7833147048307992308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-want-kandy-da-daa-da-da-da-da.html' title='I want KANDY!! (da daa da da da da)'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-6937252690160600638</id><published>2007-09-11T10:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T10:47:54.003-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Purani Dillee</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rua2uKx19lI/AAAAAAAAACc/7SrgIgmtGQg/s1600-h/100_1153.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rua2uKx19lI/AAAAAAAAACc/7SrgIgmtGQg/s320/100_1153.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108971731582056018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chandni Chowk area in Old Delhi. Old Delhi is quite distinct from the rest of Delhi. The streets are really narrow and crowded (this picture is of one of the wider, less congested streets...) and everything just kind of kept building on itself. That being said, it is very cool. Old Delhi is built on what used to Shajahanabad, a city that Shah Jahan built in the mid 1600s...but it was later pretty messed up by the British because the streets are narrow and twisty making them perfect for natives to escape foreign pursuers. The houses there used to be mostly havelis, which are basically houses with open space in the middle, open as in you can see the sky. They are sooo nice and seem quite a sanctuary because they are so quiet and cool compared to the bustle and sweat just outside their walls. The havelis were quite large meant to house extended families and had the open interior because back in the day women weren't exactly allowed to leave so they were allowed at least this space to be 'outside.' Now people have built in and around and over the havelis so the neighborhood is homes piled upon homes and great tangles and knots of electric wires (which makes you amazed that the electricity ever works...) We got to go on the roof of on of the homes, which was so cool because you can clearly just go from one roof/terrace to another so much so that you can go across streets and neighborhoods that way if you know where you are going. We went down one street call patli gali (literally 'thin gully') that was so thin that I wasn't sure my fat back pack would fit through...suffice to say, I'm glad we had a guide who grew up there or we would've easily gotten quite lost. (I can only imagine what fun it is for the kids there, sooo much mischief that could be done and crazy games that could be played. It really kind of reminded me of Aladdin). We didn't really eat anything from the 'chaats' (basically roadside food) there, but I guess that that's half the attraction, so I'll have to go back with someone that knows what the good stuff is; I think the parathas and mithais (sweets) are supposed to be amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a random note: I went to a Bible study Sunday night (which was quite good) where I ate meat for the first time in a long time; it was nice to be in the presence of other carnivores...I mean Christians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rua4KKx19mI/AAAAAAAAACk/vgLWVLM27Hk/s1600-h/100_1161.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rua4KKx19mI/AAAAAAAAACk/vgLWVLM27Hk/s320/100_1161.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108973312130020962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;the calm inside a haveli; this is actually a girls' school now&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-6937252690160600638?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/6937252690160600638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=6937252690160600638' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/6937252690160600638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/6937252690160600638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/09/purani-dillee.html' title='Purani Dillee'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rua2uKx19lI/AAAAAAAAACc/7SrgIgmtGQg/s72-c/100_1153.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-7642576649122112253</id><published>2007-09-03T01:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T02:10:11.524-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Soooo kuchi kuchi CUTE!</title><content type='html'>This morning the first thing I did after rubbing the remnants of sleep out of my eyes is wander outside onto our terrace. This is my usual routine because the weather is so nice in the morning and our terrace is the perfect place to watch the sunrise and planes take off (Indira Ghandhi airport isn't too far away). This morning I wandered to the back of the terrace to fold my laundry still hanging from the day before. When I had my pile of clothes I started walking back to the front, eyes still half-shut, but before I made it around the corner my eyes almost popped out of my head because they caught those of a monkey about 2 feet away from me and looking as if were going to pounce. Oh man did that wake me up! I admit it, I screamed bloody murder (which scared the monkey) and retreated. Turns out there were 4 monkeys (one of which was quite large) hanging out on the corner of the terrace...between me and the door into the apartment. I put my clothes back on the laundry machine and waited a good 5 minutes (who knows how long i could've stayed out there...) for them to wander further over on the terrace, then I grabbed a large piece of wood that I used to scare the monkeys when they saw me (they were chillin' by the door into the apartment by now) and said some Alleluias when I stepped back inside. And I used to think the little guys were so cute..&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rtuo06x19hI/AAAAAAAAAB8/LC_GsN_o8K4/s1600-h/monkeys+at+hanumanjakhutemp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rtuo06x19hI/AAAAAAAAAB8/LC_GsN_o8K4/s320/monkeys+at+hanumanjakhutemp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105860229639566866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rtuy8ax19jI/AAAAAAAAACM/Vdehr8QQssA/s1600-h/monkey+morning.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rtuy8ax19jI/AAAAAAAAACM/Vdehr8QQssA/s400/monkey+morning.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105871353604863538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get a better picture of these guys.  The above are residents of Shimla, but they pop up all over Delhi too...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-7642576649122112253?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/7642576649122112253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=7642576649122112253' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7642576649122112253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7642576649122112253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/09/soooo-kuchi-kuchi-cute.html' title='Soooo kuchi kuchi CUTE!'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rtuo06x19hI/AAAAAAAAAB8/LC_GsN_o8K4/s72-c/monkeys+at+hanumanjakhutemp.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-1086722954675007775</id><published>2007-09-01T01:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-01T02:51:28.648-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiranga (tri-color: rang=color)</title><content type='html'>Last night we went to a performance celebrating Indian Flag Day (August 31).  Like many many things here, it was amazing and I cannot do it justice.  They explained what the saffron, green, and white colors and blue Ashoka Chakra.  To sum it up, I will quote Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (an Indian Vice President at one point time) via wikipedia,&lt;br /&gt;"Bhagwa or the saffron colour denotes renunciation of disinterestedness. Our leaders must be indifferent to material gains and dedicate themselves to their work. The white in the centre is light, the path of truth to guide our conduct. The green shows our relation to (the) soil, our relation to the plant life here, on which all other life depends. The "&lt;a title="Ashoka Chakra" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ashoka_Chakra"&gt;Ashoka Chakra&lt;/a&gt;" in the centre of the white is the wheel of the law of &lt;a title="Dharma" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dharma"&gt;dharma&lt;/a&gt;. Truth or &lt;a title="Satya" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satya"&gt;satya&lt;/a&gt;, dharma or virtue ought to be the controlling principle of those who work under this flag. Again, the wheel denotes motion. There is death in stagnation. There is life in movement. India should no more resist change, it must move and go forward. The wheel represents the dynamism of a peaceful change." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To celebrate the flag, poetry was read and music played in 4 sections, one for each part of the flag.  The poetry was in Hindi...so I could tell when he was using the progressive tense...but the  meaning alluded me.  Luckily, music is universal and "wvah!" (Hindi "wow!") was it amazing.  There was a traditional singer, a guitarist (...probably not a guitar, but to my eyes it was), a flutist (again, American interpretation of what it was), a man playing a large, fat pot that looked like a piece of art, and several drummers of various kinds.  The drums were my favorite.  They made all kinds of sounds, including one like a huge drop of water falling into a pool.  They made such energetic rhythms and their fingers moved soo quickly.  The drummers' hands reminded me of the spider I was trying to kill in my bathroom yesterday morning because his fingers all moved separately and at an amazing pace...then suddenly would pause and you never knew what they would do next, so you could feel calm for a moment, then the movement starts again and with it, the excitement (since I enjoyed the drumming so much it made me regret having killed the spider...)  I also enjoyed watching the man who played the pot-like instrument because his head bobbled up and down and around with the rhythms as if he himself were part of the instrument.  Trianga definitly made me feel the joy of liberation and the hope of peace and good will. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some rambling thoughts follow...&lt;br /&gt;Having the privilage of attending that celebration and just general talk about colonialism (because I am in Indian and it is a theme in a few of my classes) has really put into the forefront of my reality that freedom is still new and fresh in many places in the world (and of course, not a reality in others.)  Globalization is happening, and it is fusing identities while thrusting them into the forefront.  What does it mean to be Indian or Nigerian or Western?  What is progress and who has the authority to dictate history?  We have discussed such questions in the classrooms of my past, but being in a place that is itself living this debate really highlights that such questions are not history.  They are now and they effect all of us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things that makes me laugh...language wise:&lt;br /&gt;"Angali (pronounced sounds like "ugly") larki sundar hai."  English:&lt;br /&gt;"the next girl is beautiful" but to an english/hindi speaker sounds like "ugly girl is beautiful"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I say things in Hindi my Indian friends often repeat what I say in English to confirm that that's what I meant to say.  So here's my joke:&lt;br /&gt;me: "Mai hasna pasand hai"&lt;br /&gt;mera dost (my friend): "You like to laugh?"&lt;br /&gt;me: "haahaahaa"&lt;br /&gt;(haa means "yes" in Hindi)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-1086722954675007775?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/1086722954675007775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=1086722954675007775' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1086722954675007775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1086722954675007775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/09/tiranga-tri-color-rangcolor.html' title='Tiranga (tri-color: rang=color)'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-2124386151746112978</id><published>2007-08-23T13:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T13:16:28.011-05:00</updated><title type='text'>take!</title><content type='html'>Today in Hindi class we had a funny conversation with Geeta ji, our professor, about being polite and eating.  She asked us what the difference between "Come on in" and "Do come in" is to an English speaker.  White debating it amongst ourselves, Julia said she'd said "would you like to come in?"  Geeta ji said she would never go in if someone asked her that because it's part of Indian culture to assume that if you are asking them "would you like some? would you like to? would you, etc?" that the questioner doesn't really want you to accept...like such questions are only asked because the asker feels forced to by the other person present.  She told us how she went to dinner with some of her first Hindi students from UK, New Zealand, and Scotland and they would ask her "would you like this?" and so she would always refuse...and always be hungry.  See in India, you don't offer something so much as demand someone to take it.  You must understand that in India when you sit down at someone's table for a meal, you are told "take! take!" upon finishing anything on your plate again you are told "take! take!" (or sometimes it reappears on your plate when your head is turned the other way and in your blindness you can't refuse).  She told us that if Indians go to someone's house to eat and the food is before them and they are starving they will not eat unless they are told "take" (and for that matter, it's rude to take it without being told...which made some of us feel a bit awkward in retrospect).  Luckily Geeta ji and her first students soon figured out the differences in culture and established a system of 'western no' and 'hindi no.'  The former meaning actually 'no' and the latter meaning ask or offer again and I will say yes (in fact I do want it, but must deny at least once to be polite).  She also said in Delhi this formality of refusing once or twice is fading in the culture so if she really wants something (but doesn't want to sound rude) she will say "abhi nahi" meaning "not right now," which she says assures she won't lose the offer completely (unless the other is rude).  What I want to know is how to say a Western 'no' to people who aren't language teachers...I'm afraid I may be unrecognizable upon my return home from taking in too much =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-2124386151746112978?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/2124386151746112978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=2124386151746112978' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/2124386151746112978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/2124386151746112978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/08/take.html' title='take!'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-3448639061079841703</id><published>2007-08-22T07:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T08:11:16.564-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Notes on Everyday Things</title><content type='html'>I thought there some everyday Delhi things may be of interest...maybe not =)&lt;br /&gt;Transportation:&lt;br /&gt;This is an autorickshaw...we have fun arguing with the autowallas (drivers) about using the meter and getting fair prices, my favorite phrase of these encounters is, "Bhaiya, thik boliye," which means "Brother, speak the truth!"&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RswqPKx19dI/AAAAAAAAABc/KC8OXDZJjJk/s1600-h/100_1082.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RswqPKx19dI/AAAAAAAAABc/KC8OXDZJjJk/s200/100_1082.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101498917983745490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Below is one of the DTC (delhi transportation corp)  buses.  These 'blue buses' are notorious for being crowded and dangerous, i.e. they kill about 6oo people on the street per year.  I sometimes take them in the morning (7-7:30ish) when I can still get a seat since I get on at the beginning of the line.  They are significantly cheaper (and sweatier) than autos.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RswtJ6x19eI/AAAAAAAAABk/yetmC5zkJq8/s1600-h/100_1072.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RswtJ6x19eI/AAAAAAAAABk/yetmC5zkJq8/s200/100_1072.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101502126324315618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone honks while driving...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rsww0qx19fI/AAAAAAAAABs/6_oma0CkTSE/s1600-h/honk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rsww0qx19fI/AAAAAAAAABs/6_oma0CkTSE/s200/honk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101506159298606578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see the India Gate almost everyday because it is by the Metro yellow line stop I take to DU.  "British Delhi" is physically quite distinct compared to the rest of Delhi.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rsw1OKx19gI/AAAAAAAAAB0/MfxQTfNy5To/s1600-h/india+gate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rsw1OKx19gI/AAAAAAAAAB0/MfxQTfNy5To/s200/india+gate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101510995431781890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RswtJ6x19eI/AAAAAAAAABk/yetmC5zkJq8/s1600-h/100_1072.jpg"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;Hmmm...other daily happenings:&lt;br /&gt;I have troubling studying while on the campus of Ramjas College (the branch of Delhi University I attend) because wherever I choose to sit (be it the library, canteen, sports field, hallway) guys that I do not know start talking to me.  I don't mind talking to people and some of them are nice and interesting...but some of them clearly just want to talk to me because I am a white American female...which is pretty awkward.  My new tactic for avoiding this is to always be with someone I know, but that also makes it hard to study because then we talk.  It gets done eventually.&lt;br /&gt;Professors regularly do not show up to class, which is frustrating since I have to commute about 1 1/2 hours to get to Ramjas and since I like going to class.  On the up side, I was soo excited to actually have class today!&lt;br /&gt;The food on the street and in the canteen (cafeteria) is reaaally good and is a nice change from the repetition of food I'm used to at home.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not quite used to seeing monkeys here and there just hanging out, it's cool though as long as they do not want your fruit.&lt;br /&gt;I usually get up around 5 or 6 am to catch the very nice morning weather.  My host mom thinks I'm an early riser...my family may beg to differ.&lt;br /&gt;Thik hai (ok)...that's all for now =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-3448639061079841703?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/3448639061079841703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=3448639061079841703' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/3448639061079841703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/3448639061079841703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/08/notes-on-everyday-things.html' title='Notes on Everyday Things'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RswqPKx19dI/AAAAAAAAABc/KC8OXDZJjJk/s72-c/100_1082.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-8301661430558204968</id><published>2007-08-13T09:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T09:11:23.200-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RsBllI-qY-I/AAAAAAAAABU/kwh2r3nRJ0I/s1600-h/100_1059.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RsBllI-qY-I/AAAAAAAAABU/kwh2r3nRJ0I/s320/100_1059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098186466923275234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside of one of Akbar's Hindu wife's room in the palace at Sikri.  There were intricate carvings everywhere, one pole (not shown) has designs to symbolize Islam, Christianity, and Hinduism because he was very accepting of all religions.  (His other wives were Muslim and Turkish).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-8301661430558204968?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/8301661430558204968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=8301661430558204968' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/8301661430558204968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/8301661430558204968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/08/outside-of-one-akbars-hindu-wifes-room.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RsBllI-qY-I/AAAAAAAAABU/kwh2r3nRJ0I/s72-c/100_1059.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-7791710919399603955</id><published>2007-08-13T08:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T09:02:35.139-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RsBkQo-qY9I/AAAAAAAAABM/SxX_N3QlCJQ/s1600-h/100_1043.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RsBkQo-qY9I/AAAAAAAAABM/SxX_N3QlCJQ/s400/100_1043.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098185015224329170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-7791710919399603955?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/7791710919399603955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=7791710919399603955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7791710919399603955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7791710919399603955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/08/blog-post_13.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RsBkQo-qY9I/AAAAAAAAABM/SxX_N3QlCJQ/s72-c/100_1043.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-7553646948439922421</id><published>2007-08-13T08:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T08:55:37.957-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RsBibY-qY8I/AAAAAAAAABE/eqaIIi-8oa8/s1600-h/100_1023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RsBibY-qY8I/AAAAAAAAABE/eqaIIi-8oa8/s400/100_1023.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098183000884667330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so many kids here love it when you take their picture...so I don't know these folks, but they're happy =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-7553646948439922421?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/7553646948439922421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=7553646948439922421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7553646948439922421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7553646948439922421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/08/so-many-kids-here-love-it-when-you-take.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RsBibY-qY8I/AAAAAAAAABE/eqaIIi-8oa8/s72-c/100_1023.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-817488669727186362</id><published>2007-08-13T08:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T08:47:47.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wonders of the World</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Saturday and Sunday we went on a tourist excursion to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;color:#3366ff;"   &gt;&lt;b&gt;Fatehpur  Sikri&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;, one of the Capitals  of the 3rd Mughal - Akbar The Great, built during 1569-72AD.  The Taj is simply amazing.  It's huge and truly awesome.  It was crowded to say the least when Saturday because it was the anniversary of the death of Shahjahan, the Mughal emperor who built the Taj for his 'love' wife, so there was a large religious procession going on.  The tombs of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal (I think her name is actually longer than that...)are in the basement, but there are replicas on the main floor which are equally intricate and beautiful.  I think standing at the foot of it and just looking up is the most amazing view, but taking a closer look at all the intricate carvings literally all over the building almost makes it surprising they could finish it in 22 years.  I guess the going joke is to ask your husband if he loves you enough do something as amazing as building the taj for you (which of course he says, "yes, as soon as you die...hurry up!")  Mumtaz died giving birth to their 14th child in 18 years of marriage...Anyway, we did venture down to the basement to see the real tombs, but it honestly was not worth it that day.  It was a small room with the tombs, but Saturday it was packed with people praying and moving and the walls were all wet (which could have been from holy water or perspiration), there was barely room to move.  The Fatehpur Sikri palaces were also beautiful and fun to walk around and hear the history.  It's amazing to walk through history.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Upon our return to Delhi I realized that I was strangely happy to be back.  I say strangely because I would have to say I like Delhi, but I don't think of Delhi like I think of Chicago, meaning, as a city that I just absolutely love.  I think I'm starting to like Delhi because I'm starting to get familiar with it.  This is probably a bad analogy, but for almost 3 hours on the bus we were talking about arranged marriages vs. love marriages, and I feel like I'm in an arranged marriage with Delhi and as I get more familiar with this stranger that has just come into my life my affection for it grows.  I feel like I've been asked a lot lately if I like India and I just find it to be a funny question to ask...some things just can't be yes or no.  Some days I feel like everything is backwards and not worth dealing with, but then there times when I'm completely happy to be here discovering new tings (new to me at least).  My favorite thing about India is the people, but I'd have to think for me that's universally true.  Anyway, I'm about to start rambling on and on, so it's time I sign off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-817488669727186362?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/817488669727186362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=817488669727186362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/817488669727186362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/817488669727186362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/08/wonders-of-world.html' title='Wonders of the World'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-729898002583153890</id><published>2007-08-07T03:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-07T03:13:55.394-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rrgpa4-qY7I/AAAAAAAAAA8/R_RdwGlnRSo/s1600-h/100_0931.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rrgpa4-qY7I/AAAAAAAAAA8/R_RdwGlnRSo/s400/100_0931.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095868520318264242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;showing our affection =)&lt;br /&gt;Juhi practices cheek squeezing like a crazy great aunt, hopefully I'll still have some when I come back&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-729898002583153890?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/729898002583153890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=729898002583153890' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/729898002583153890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/729898002583153890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/08/showing-our-affection-juhi-practices.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rrgpa4-qY7I/AAAAAAAAAA8/R_RdwGlnRSo/s72-c/100_0931.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-9056860301511841257</id><published>2007-08-06T08:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T09:05:14.768-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RrcqfI-qY6I/AAAAAAAAAA0/CwnXtKn_FlM/s1600-h/100_0987.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RrcqfI-qY6I/AAAAAAAAAA0/CwnXtKn_FlM/s400/100_0987.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095588217867625378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-9056860301511841257?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/9056860301511841257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=9056860301511841257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/9056860301511841257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/9056860301511841257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RrcqfI-qY6I/AAAAAAAAAA0/CwnXtKn_FlM/s72-c/100_0987.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-5404027790095489261</id><published>2007-08-06T08:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T08:56:07.355-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rrcn-o-qY5I/AAAAAAAAAAs/XqFQ2UX7CEk/s1600-h/100_0977.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rrcn-o-qY5I/AAAAAAAAAAs/XqFQ2UX7CEk/s400/100_0977.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095585460498621330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pictures can't do this place justice on any level&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-5404027790095489261?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/5404027790095489261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=5404027790095489261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/5404027790095489261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/5404027790095489261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/08/pictures-cant-do-this-place-justice-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rrcn-o-qY5I/AAAAAAAAAAs/XqFQ2UX7CEk/s72-c/100_0977.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-4894815732123647465</id><published>2007-08-06T06:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T09:13:21.879-05:00</updated><title type='text'>pardon my rambling</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;We took a long weekend to Simla, which was the British summer capital back in the day.  I never thought I'd actually be taking a toy train through the Himalayans, it is so beautiful and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;cool &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;up there.  We had to take 2 trains to get there (a total of about 12 hours traveling each way).  The first train was pretty normal, but the toy train from Kalka to Simla was more like what you'd see in movies where people are traveling in India.  It was small with paneless windows so everyone with a window seat hung half way out of the train and it was completely acceptable to hang out of the doors.  I've never appreciated cool air so much in my life, so if I wasn't already happy enough, the view was amazing, green mountains with clouds hanging out here and there, sometimes we went right through them.  Simla is completely a tourist town now, so it wasn't hard to find a place to eat or stay, but it was a challenge to walk around there.  The roads there remind me of this hill on a cross country course in Kansas that we went to every year in high school, it was so steep you felt like you ought to just grab on with your hands and climb it like a ladder...but in Simla that's everywhere.  We hiked up part of the mountain to the Jakhu Temple, which is a temple of the Hindu monkey god, Hanuman.  After dragging myself up the mountain, I understood why it was a temple for the monkey god: they are everywhere.  It was odd to see them so often especially since the terrain, filled with evergreen type trees...and the random cactus...isn't exactly where I picture monkeys.  We were warned not to carry anything because of the monkeys.  As it turns out some people have trained them to take things like glasses, then the people retrieve them and charge 50 rupees (this happened to a girl in our group...).  Since I don't wear glasses I enjoyed watching the monkeys when we got to sit down at the top...and as it turns out the other tourists liked watching us.  In fact, we had quite a few groups of Indian people ask to take pictures with us.  They all seemed like normal people just touring Simla, one man and wife even asked if we'd be in a picture with their little boys.  We did that, then started saying no...although I was more on the "yes for 20 rupees" side (the group didn't take that seriously...but we could've paid off our weekend escapade had we set up shop).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday we (Julia, Caitlin, and I) went with the woman we were staying with to a girls' ashram (orphanage) about 1 1/2 hours away.  The drive was fairly terrifying between the narrow, poorly kept roads (covered with "NO OVERTAKING" signs that nobody obeys), the huge buses, and the steep drops (that had great views, but minimal railings...).  However, I was glad we went when we got there.  The girls live perched on a mountain side and are equally as beautiful.  We got to each lunch with them, and the food (made by some of the girls) was some of the best we've had in India and of course, they fed us way too much (I've never seen little girls eat so much).  There was an old man there that we decided is a cross between Santa and Gandhi (because he had was so jolly and kind, but also taught the girls songs about community and overtaking hurdles in life and never becoming destitute...roughly translated).  It was such an inspiring place, the girls, who were silly, healthy and happy, were such a breath of fresh air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday night we took a sleeper train home.  We we were in a car with a group of "Britishers" (as Indians say) in our car that said they had been robbed by armed drunk men on their way north and consequently lost $4,000...or something like that.  The bunks were comfortable enough, but our car was unairconditioned, so the sticky air greeted us back home to Delhi.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;There was definitely a stick of a scandaless "Rahul" on Julia's bunk, haha.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;It was fun experience although probably not the best night's sleep I've ever had.  We arrived droopy-eyed and crazy-haired to the morning streets of Delhi at 6:30 am.  Turns out that people sleep all over the place, we saw men sleeping on walking bridges and bags of who-knows-what commodity in the medians.  There's always something new here for better or worse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;One final note, I saw a sign today saying basketball practice at Ramjas College is 6:15 am every day.  I don't think I can get an auto or bus early enough to get there, but I'm really excited at the prospect of getting involved in something here that I 'belong' in, lol.  My campus experience today was much better.  We're discovering that some professors just don't show sometimes...and that the student recreation center is hidden behind a huge pile of dirt, but air conditioned and accompanied by students playing  guitar.  I'm starting to feel more comfortable and really excited to get involved in extracurricular activities no matter how much digging and questioning it takes to figure out what's going on.  Everything here is figured out because you know someone who knows someone who is involved in whatever, so meeting people is on the top of the list.  I've also learned that wearing black disguises my pool of sweat, haha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-4894815732123647465?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/4894815732123647465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=4894815732123647465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4894815732123647465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4894815732123647465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/08/pardon-my-rambling.html' title='pardon my rambling'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-3709807056384934112</id><published>2007-08-01T00:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T00:38:39.630-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fresher</title><content type='html'>Monday was my first day of class at Delhi University.  Most students there who are not freshmen there think we (the IES students) are because here you go to your three years of school with essentially all the same people in all your classes, so if there are people you don't  know you assume they are new (...and people don't transfer here either).  Although it's important to explain we really are 3rd year students to avoid 'fresher ragging' I really did feel like a stereotypical freshman again at least for the first half of Monday.  I know I've mentioned it's kind of hot and humid here, but for some reason I was sweating more than usual on Monday, so when I got to Ramjas (the college I'm enrolled in in DU), my shirt was a completely darker shade and my face a fountain of sweat, then I couldn't find room 120...because it was actually room 102, then the people in the room before the class told me the class wasn't held in there (even though it was...) and of course if my sweatiness and lost state weren't enough everyone kind of stared at me because I seemed to be the only white person there on Monday.  When class was about to start I was feeling like the stereotypical miserable freshman in high school.  I really felt very isolated with my pool of sweat.  Then a girl sat next to me, introduced herself as Kritika and asked me my name and where I'm from.  When I said America, she said, and I quote "What the hell are you doing here?!"  And in that moment I answered quite honestly "I was just wondering that myself."  Of course the day got better after that, it was nice to make a friend, she even called me after my next class to make sure I had someone to eat lunch with and it turns out her best friend lives exactly where I live in South Delhi.  Friendly people really do make quite a difference.  The classes at DU seem like they are going to be easier than I would have expected, but I've been told it's because in India some students are granted admission due to reservation laws (affirmative action) and these students by and large come from terrible school systems so many professors try to make things easier so they can start to catch up.  I am a bit frustrated with the seeming ease of the classes, but I've only been to 2 days of class so I'm sure it will pick up a bit...and if not I'll have that much more time to study Hindi and manage my essentially 2 hour commute (one way).  The classes that IES is offering will be more demanding I think and hopefully I have an internship or volunteer opportunity once a week, so I think my days will be full enough (even without much class I pretty much collapse at 9 or 10 every night...right after dinner at 8 or 9pm because just getting from here to there is exhausting here).  I am glad to be getting into a more regular schedule now and starting some classes, it'll all balance out soon enough.&lt;br /&gt;Some things you don't lose across country lines: I went to see Harry Potter with my host sisters on Sunday.  I find it funny how it's quite the craze here almost as much as at home, I even saw copies of it written in Hindi.  Juhi thought it was funny that I was so tired after the movie and thought there must be something wrong with me (since I was quiet and calm...), but I was trying to explain to her that in America movies never start at 10 am!&lt;br /&gt;I learned how to make plum juice today, it's wonderful =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-3709807056384934112?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/3709807056384934112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=3709807056384934112' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/3709807056384934112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/3709807056384934112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/08/fresher.html' title='Fresher'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-5472193460676329079</id><published>2007-07-29T06:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T06:23:30.567-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rqx4gUsMlnI/AAAAAAAAAAk/hKa7iplIwa4/s1600-h/100_0872.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rqx4gUsMlnI/AAAAAAAAAAk/hKa7iplIwa4/s400/100_0872.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092577775354418802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-5472193460676329079?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/5472193460676329079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=5472193460676329079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/5472193460676329079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/5472193460676329079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rqx4gUsMlnI/AAAAAAAAAAk/hKa7iplIwa4/s72-c/100_0872.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-8498212124908287917</id><published>2007-07-29T06:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T06:17:36.109-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rqx25ksMlmI/AAAAAAAAAAc/kA5lKqDmetc/s1600-h/100_0883.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rqx25ksMlmI/AAAAAAAAAAc/kA5lKqDmetc/s320/100_0883.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092576010122860130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;bangles galore after our trip to the Hindu temple.  (me and shilpa)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-8498212124908287917?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/8498212124908287917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=8498212124908287917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/8498212124908287917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/8498212124908287917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/07/bangles-galore-after-our-trip-to-hindu.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rqx25ksMlmI/AAAAAAAAAAc/kA5lKqDmetc/s72-c/100_0883.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-2193965941886260687</id><published>2007-07-29T06:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T06:08:09.311-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rqx050sMllI/AAAAAAAAAAU/hSAtAxgY9_g/s1600-h/100_0923.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rqx050sMllI/AAAAAAAAAAU/hSAtAxgY9_g/s400/100_0923.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092573815394571858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Juhi was saying "noooo!!" as in don't take the picture...so I thought she meant "post it on your blog!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-2193965941886260687?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/2193965941886260687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=2193965941886260687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/2193965941886260687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/2193965941886260687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/07/juhi-was-saying-noooo-as-in-dont-take.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/Rqx050sMllI/AAAAAAAAAAU/hSAtAxgY9_g/s72-c/100_0923.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-4307562769656093681</id><published>2007-07-29T05:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T06:02:25.243-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RqxzhUsMlkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/fPkYRTgSikM/s1600-h/100_0921.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RqxzhUsMlkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/fPkYRTgSikM/s400/100_0921.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092572294976149058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Radhika and Juhi, my sisters =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-4307562769656093681?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/4307562769656093681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=4307562769656093681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4307562769656093681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4307562769656093681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/07/radhika-and-juhi-my-sisters.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2TDakVeSYfA/RqxzhUsMlkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/fPkYRTgSikM/s72-c/100_0921.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-4269162229143288480</id><published>2007-07-29T05:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T05:53:32.252-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday I got and road an autorickshaw all by myself for the first time and I didn't even get cheated.  That's sounds like a silly thing to be excited about, but it is something of an achievement since my Hindi isn't so existent and my skin is such that everyone wants to make an extra buck off me.  I even knew how to get where I was going, which is nice because it is a bit nerve wrecking to always be trusting people you don't know and can't really communicate with.  It's hard not trusting people, but we are constantly told not to trust people we don't know and not to talk to them, don't smile, etc.  It's not that everyone is going to hurt you, but safety over being friendly right?&lt;br /&gt;  It absolutely poured yesterday...but I missed it =( because I was in a movie (Partner, it's basically the Bollywood version of Hitch...apparently there are lots of Bollywood movies that are take offs of American ones - literally some lines and scenes are identical).  I'm starting to wonder what it will be like if it really does start acting like monsoon season because with the one rain yesterday the roads were pretty flooded making it hard to drive and walk down them without getting too much too wet.  My host mom thinks the lack of rain in Delhi is due to the people here.  She says people don't follow the rules here and they don't do what's right.  She often says she wishes someone would take over for 20 years and fix it all, she even said she hoped the army took rule (considering they would do the right things for the people). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I'm planning on going to class at Delhi University for the first time.  We (IES students) aren't supposed to start class for another week, but DU started class last week and since I can go to class, I figure why not?  I'm a little nervous since I don't know anyone...and don't know if my enrollment is complete yet...and don't know what books to get or where, but I figure the only way to find out is to start showing up.  I'm starting realize that here you just have to do things if you want them done or you want to know something.  I say that like it's different from home...but it really is.  There is some much that is so simple and straightforward at Loyola that is not here.  At home if I wait around to do something eventually someone will call me on it or go with me somewhere or help me figure things out, but here it's more like if you wait...you'll just keep waiting and waiting and waiting.  The stereotypical competitiveness that is associated with India scholastically is starting to make more sense to me.  There are just so many people here that if you just sit and wait, you will be left behind.  In colleges here it's something like 2,000 students competing for one seat.  It makes me grateful that I have more lee-way in life; I can be in college and be unsure of what the next step is...and have things work out.  I could be a good student in high school and know for sure that that meant I would go to college.  It's not so simple here.  I knew all of this before coming here, but it's different when I know my host sister, Juhi, is in the thrust of it all.  I can't answer the question: "what's this change for me?" and that's frustrating.  Being here just makes those nagging questions that you sometimes ponder about equality and basically luck in life all the more present and frequent.  Why is that kid a beggar, where are his parents, why is she a house maid and why does he have to do unsafe construction work in 100 degrees?  Why do I assume that my life is better than theirs? (better, of course, meaning more enjoyable as I go through it)  Why even ask these questions over and over?  I ask the same ones of the streets of Chicago, but I guess it's easier to think of reasons there or easier to be isolated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough of that.  There are many things I love here.  My host family being on the top of that list.  They are so goofy, which makes me feel more comfortable.  They even started tugging my cheeks, which I think means I'm in, haha.  Of course, I'm going to have to fight off food hard to not gain 20 pounds while I am here. Purnima ji even has put more food on my plate when I was looking the other way!  It's good food, but my tummy can only hold so much.  I also really like Delhi University and I'm excited to start classes there, it'll be nice to meet people my age and get into campus life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-4269162229143288480?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/4269162229143288480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=4269162229143288480' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4269162229143288480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4269162229143288480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/07/yesterday-i-got-and-road-autorickshaw.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-7119685862154404501</id><published>2007-07-24T11:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T12:32:15.505-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It has not rained much here for monsoon season, but their is certainly moisture in the air.  There is a slight relieving cool here when the clouds actually do burst and let the rain out. That hasn't happened much though, so I don't think I've stopped sweating (besides when I'm taking a cold shower) since I've been here.  The heat makes class something to look forward to because at least the classes that IES (the program I am here with) offers are air conditioned (although I don't think the university's are).  Right now is kind of a limbo period because we are taking 'intensive' hindi this week and next week and have no other classes.  Thus far I've been occupied with trying to figure out what classes to take at JNU or Delhi University, but it's not simple here.  The course lists are not online, so we spent about 3 hours this morning going from building to building on campus (which is HUGE by the way) looking a piece of paper posted on the wall of every department that lists what is offered...but not the times of the classes.  For those, we had to find the professor and ask, streamlining is not exactly the way of life here.  After 3 hot hours of simply accomplishing writing down a list of 3 classes (not enrolling in them or even being able to get the times for them), me and 3 other students got lunch at the one place we know is safe for our bodies that is not American fast food.  They give you sooo much food here for so little money.  I ordered hummus (to mix it up since I've been eating only Indian food) with pitas, which cost 60 rupees ($1.50)  and I think they gave me enough hummus for a week.  My favorite things to eat here so far are the fruits.  My host mom made plum juice the other, which was not only a fabulous pink color, but tasty; the mangoes are amazing; chikoo, which is very sweet and apparently high in iron (and it looks like a potato before it's pealed).  There are so many flavors and smells here, good and bad, just walking around outside. &lt;br /&gt;Navigating everyday life is very different here.  The streets are nowhere near a grid pattern and only the very big ones have official names (or at least those are the only ones that either have signs, which you must search hard for, or that people know the name of at all).  Bit by bit I'm starting to understand where things are, which makes me feel a bit more secure because I'm  not completely relying on the autorickshaw driver to take me to the right place.  Chester, the IES student living closest to me, and I explored our neighborhood, Vasant Kunj, the other day and took the liberty of giving our own names to the streets like RMLOO (road mackenzie lives off of) and Coffee (home of Cafe Coffee Day, the Indian equivalent of Starbucks).  Otherwise the city is organized by main roads with names and neighborhoods, like Vasant Kunj, that are then split up into Sectors (A,B,C, etc.) and then into numbers.  I'm amazed that the auto drivers and delivery people find the correct places.  And speaking of delivery, they DELIVER ice cream here, amazing.  Anyway, it is nice to feel like pieces are starting to fall in place is my mind.  Every time something clicks I feel a little pressure relieved in my head and it feels good to know I'm a little closer to understanding Delhi than I was a few moments before.  Let me tell you though, I have a long way to go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-7119685862154404501?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/7119685862154404501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=7119685862154404501' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7119685862154404501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/7119685862154404501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/07/it-has-not-rained-much-here-for-monsoon.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-667133119881800904</id><published>2007-07-21T01:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T01:20:12.503-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Home!</title><content type='html'>My host mom, Purnami ji, was the first to come pick her student, me, up last night, so everyone was watching.  She is so nice and her daughters seem great too.  They are funny because Juhi, the 17 year old, is the 'good' one and Purnami ji and Radhika, the 10 year old, are the 'naughty' ones.  They asked me if I am good or bad...hahaha.  And, would you believe it?? they have a basketball hoop on their beautiful huge terrace!! I was meant to be here.  They live in a 4 bedroom apartment with a living room, kitchen, and like I said, an amazing terrace.  Purnami ji's favorite color is blue, so the walls of my room are blue and my blankets are blue and she said I should watch any of my blue clothes closely.  The space here is very nice and the neighborhood is quite close to Jawaharlal Nehru University where I will be taking a few classes.  I am looking forward to my months here and getting a better gasp on language in that time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-667133119881800904?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/667133119881800904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=667133119881800904' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/667133119881800904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/667133119881800904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/07/home.html' title='Home!'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-1430528873994886787</id><published>2007-07-20T05:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-20T05:20:15.229-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I love Bollywood.  I just watched the best fake punch ever, the victim flew 10 feet in the air.  Anyway, I road in an autorickshaw for the first time yesterday.  It's basically a very small car with no sides and only one seat in the front.  I think Achim, an IES director from Germany, describes it the best.  Riding in an auto here is like being in a video game...you cut every corner, sometimes scratching other vehicles, and weave in and out of buses, car, motorcycles, and almost running over bicycles continuously...the only difference is there is no reset button.  It's quite fun though after the initial shock of thinking you may die.  We this these autos to go to the Conaught Place, fairly touristy shopping market, so we all got to try out haggling.  Later we went to the local Thursday night market.  Geeta ji, one of our coordinators, said she heard someone on the phone there saying "You wouldn't believe it...there are so many foreigners."  So we got a good laugh out of that.  The market was very crowded and fitted in between buildings with a vehicle working its way through the crowd here and there.  On one of the side streets of the market there is a huge old building that looked castle-like to me; Delhi is truly a place where centuries of time coexist.   Tonight I'm scheduled to move in with my host family and I am SO excited!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-1430528873994886787?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/1430528873994886787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=1430528873994886787' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1430528873994886787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1430528873994886787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-love-bollywood.html' title=''/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-1586677946231266431</id><published>2007-07-18T07:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T07:49:30.357-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Here I am</title><content type='html'>I arrived in Delhi Sunday morning at 6 a.m.  When we landed the windows of the plane steamed over as did the glasses of people around me when we got off of the plane.  Luckily the weather has been pretty mild and although it is monsoon season, it's only rained once so far.  In the past 4 days or so we've been quite pampered, with our center directors getting taxis for us and telling them where to go and always traveling in our group of 19.  I feel like we're hunched over on the starting line waiting for the gun because soon we will be more independent and I can't wait to feel more like I'm living here than touring.  That being said, I'm certainly not in Nebraska anymore.  Here they drive on the left, traffic lanes virtually do not exist, horns never cease, the traffic is a mix of cars, autoricksaws, buses, motorcycles, and bikes 24/7, oh, and most cars no longer have side mirrors.  You get used to it though, at least as a passenger.  The food here is great, but since it has more spice than I'm used to, my nose runs at almost every meal.  As much as I have been taking pictures and just looking at people and places, I feel quite a spectacle myself.  Today stares were more than usual because we were on a huge tour bus seeing some sites around Delhi and I even saw someone take a picture of me and another white girl in our group as we walked by (which is fair enough considering the number of pictures I have of Indians I do not know).  The clothing here is beautiful, although most men wear western pants and shirts.  Yikes, my power is about to short, but I just want to note that although I am all the way over here, I don't quite feel worlds away yet...waiting on that one I guess =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-1586677946231266431?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/1586677946231266431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=1586677946231266431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1586677946231266431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1586677946231266431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/07/here-i-am.html' title='Here I am'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-4205928885058749052</id><published>2007-07-09T05:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T05:36:47.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Germany</title><content type='html'>So...I don't know if this post will show up since all my blog directions are now in German, but it's worth a try.  I arrived in Germany July 3 and will leave here for India on July 14.  I'm here  visiting Melanie, the German exchange student we had about 6 years ago.  It seems I'm here quite strictly on vacation, which I am not arguing with.  It's cold and rainy here, but the sun kindly emerged for our weekend of visiting cathedrals and castles.  I've found that Germans think me odd for wanting to see castles because there are so many here that it's almost like someone in Chicago wanting to go walk down the streets and just to look at  sky scrapers.  I guess my American mind finds something romantic and magical about castles, thank you Walt Disney.  Melanie's mother has made sure that I sample every dessert, cake, candy, or icecream that is special to anywhere we go, which I cannot say I've been resisting too vehemently, how often am I in Germany after all?  I did decide that if I come back I will try to learn some German because it can be a bit alienating not understanding most of the conversations had and having to always be so quiet since most people cannot understand me.  It's been good motivation to keep working on Hindi before I make it to India.   Alfeeterzein, haha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-4205928885058749052?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/4205928885058749052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=4205928885058749052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4205928885058749052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/4205928885058749052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/07/germany.html' title='Germany'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-2865656829690974555</id><published>2007-05-22T08:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T08:48:25.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Eletricity</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I met with a man named George from my church to see how I can help out with St. Luke's newly formed Global Warming group.  He has the lofty goal of getting our church off of the grid in 5 years.  We agree that the US needs to take the lead in really developing efficient sources of natural/clean energy for our independence as a country and the health of the earth.  This became even more apparent to me as I read an article today in the NY Times discussing the electrical shortage in India, specifically in the south suburbs of Delhi.  About 1/2 of India's 1 billion people do not have any access of electricity (the national goal is for everyone to have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;access&lt;/span&gt; to the grid by 2009, a lofty goal.)  We always hear about the technological advancement and industrialization of India.  It's happening, but the neighborhoods that would from our perspective seem "American" struggle to support the materialization, for what good is a flat screen tv or AC in every room in 100 degree weather if your power randomly goes out 11 hours of the day?  I was surprised to read that many new buildings have their own generators so they do not have to shut down if the grid fails, these generators are powered by diesel fuel.  India will continue to push forward despite these shortages and the monetarily and environmentally heavy costs of having 'modern' access of electricity.  For me, this reinforces our American responsibility to be leader in new, sustainable, clean sources of energy not only for our own good and profit, but so it's cheaper for developing countries to develop in a healthier fashion and not end up where we already are, stuck sucking on an unhealthy system.&lt;br /&gt;Guess I'll be lucky to be able to have not only the electricity, but also the internet access to do this blog in India.&lt;br /&gt;http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/21/world/asia/21india.html?em&amp;ex=1179979200&amp;amp;en=683cdfcc11087f26&amp;ei=5087%0A&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-2865656829690974555?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/2865656829690974555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=2865656829690974555' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/2865656829690974555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/2865656829690974555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/05/eletricity.html' title='Eletricity'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7591714564329880547.post-1469104516603105777</id><published>2007-05-14T18:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T12:51:24.311-05:00</updated><title type='text'>trying out this blogging thing...</title><content type='html'>You do not really shouldn't read this blog until mid-end of July because that is when I will be in India.  I'm going to try to use this blog to keep people updated on my life who want to be updated.  To make this first post a little more worth-while, here's the recipe for that yummy dessert we had at our last young adults Bible study (*wink* *nudge* Susan):&lt;br /&gt;1 can sweetened-condensed milk&lt;br /&gt;1 pint heavy whipping cream&lt;br /&gt;1 large package instant vanilla pudding&lt;br /&gt;1 C cold water&lt;br /&gt;Make the pudding using the water and the sweetened condensed milk, chill in the fridge for 5 minutes.  Whip the cream using an electric blender.  Fold the whipped cream into the chilled pudding.&lt;br /&gt;1 pint (or more...whatever is your fancy) strawberries, cleaned and sliced&lt;br /&gt;1 Sara Lee frozen pound cake, cubed (can substitute angel food cake for preference or health...)&lt;br /&gt;Layer the pudding  mix, strawberries, and cake, make it look pretty.  Eat and enjoy!!&lt;br /&gt;Until July, signing off =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7591714564329880547-1469104516603105777?l=mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/feeds/1469104516603105777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7591714564329880547&amp;postID=1469104516603105777' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1469104516603105777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7591714564329880547/posts/default/1469104516603105777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mackenzieshreve.blogspot.com/2007/05/trying-out-this-blogging-thing.html' title='trying out this blogging thing...'/><author><name>Mackenzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17852622828620084874</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
