index

Well, that was an interesting evening. A group of us went out for an early evening on the town, as everyone else had a 9pm curfew. We visited Hauz Khas Village, described by my hostmother Tiposhi-ji as “full of young people, and parties, and just smells of drugs and hashish;” we were, of course, intrigued. Walking to the village from the metro is rather long and takes you by two beautiful parks, and as you get closer there is a collection of old monuments and tombs, to something or someone I do not know (they had little information placards, but the information they contained was something like “under act 243a this site has been declared an active historical site” and not, say, why they were historical sites). There was a beautiful white temple, and then the parking started, and there was a large pile of trash, and then: the village. It was, as predicted, full of young people. Not so much of the parties at 5pm, but it definitely smelled like hashish.

India!

[I have been existing with minimal wifi for some time now, but rest assured: I did write this post while still in the airport in Paris]

I first read Moby Dick when I was around 12, enjoying the Adventure and Fun Names and Cool Whale Facts, struggling through the passages that I did not understand or were boring - in an attempt to prove to myself or others that I was Smart. Listening to it again 15 years later I am forced to admit that the mere mechanical process of reading, understanding words and plot and making it from the front cover to the back is not necessarily indicative of understanding, appreciation, of Being Cultured. But also, looking back, I did not entirely miss.