Ami abar ekhane.

[edit] Listen to this while you read: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NfJAh6hrCzw. It fits well with my current emotional / spiritual / general state of existence. And it's beautiful.

I am here again.

In Kolkata.

Everything is perfect.

I don't know how to accurately explain how wonderful it is to be here, but I will try. Also, I've been speaking Bangla for the whole past day, so writing in English feels very strange. The best way to explain today would be to give you a series of events so...here goes. :-)

After being dropped off at the airport, I had my first full-Bangla conversation of the day with the guy who gave me my boarding pass. It was wonderful. We talked about why I was in Dhaka, what I had done, where I had studied, what I liked about Dhaka...all in Bangla. Then, at the gate, I met a wonderful high school student from New York. She's Bengali, but lives in America. We had a fantastic conversation (in English) about culture, identity, multiculturalism...it was great. Then the flight. On the flight, I read the Bible...in Bangla. It was nutty. I didn't understand all of the words, but I know enough that I could recognize what I was reading. I'm going to keep reading the Bible in Bangla to practice. Wow.

When the flight began to land in Kolkata, I looked out the window and noticed...everything was green. What? Kolkata was not green the last time I was here. What. I told the guy next to me (in Bangla) that the last time I was here, Kolkata was not green. He said it was green because of monsoon season. That makes sense. Also, Kolkata is only green on the outside perimeter of the city. That makes more sense.

Landed, deplaned (that's a good word), through customs...and to my first Bangla argument. Fun! The currency exchange guy didn't have the taka exchange rate posted. I tried to exchange taka. He wanted 12,000 taka for...a comparatively very small amount of rupees. It didn't make any sense. I told him it didn't make any sense. He said the exchange rate was very bad for taka to rupees. I know the exchange rate. It's not. But it wasn't posted on the board that showed the rates (no clue why), so he could say whatever he wanted. GAH. What was interesting about the situation was that I was literally arguing the whole time in Bangla. And we both understood each other. We weren't arguing out of frustration with communication - we were arguing because he was trying to cheat me out of money. Woohoo!

Then I went to the next currency exchange place and had another full-Bangla conversation with a nice currency exchange man who gave me a better rate and talked about Sonagachi with me. Yaaaaaay. That was fun. THEN I went to the prepaid taxi stand next to the exchange place and ran into two white guys. I asked where they were from; they said Chicago. What. We shared a taxi to Sudder Street.

On the way to Sudder Street, the Chicago guys and I talked, and I asked the taxi driver a few questions in Bangla. He responded in English. It was like we were each trying to prove we could speak the other's language. Or we just both wanted to practice our second-language skills. The Chicago guys said they were only staying in Kolkata for two days and wanted to know what fun things there were to do in the city. They asked me what my favorite thing to do in Kolkata was. I said, "uh...take care of dying women?" They said they were thinking more about like, going to a Cricket game and asked where they could do that. I didn't know. They asked what I liked to do in my free time. I said I liked playing guitar on the roof. I wasn't very helpful.

We got to Sudder Street. I got out. Walked in the back way to Hotel Paragon. Walking along that street was like a dream. This is all like a dream. Same sewers, same rickshaws, same smells, same rundown rain-ruined walls. I walked into Hotel Paragon and the owners broke into wide smiles...and we began talking in rapid-fire Bangla. They remembered me. I remembered them. It was beautiful. I asked if my old room was available. It was. I went there. Everything Josefin, Jeff, Peter, and I did to the walls is still there, and it's been majorly built upon. Other people have drawn, painted, and written all over the walls. Spiritual stuff, silly stuff, portraits...all on top of and around what I wrote and drew. It's amazing.

Dropped my stuff down, locked the door, and went off to Mother's House for Adoration. Said hi to the guy who sells pants and stuff on the way out. And the guy who runs the shop on the corner. They all remember me. Argued with an autorickshaw guy about the price to Mother's House. He said a hundred taka. I told him in Bangla that I'm not stupid. It was fun. Hopped in another autorickshaw. Didn't have change. The guy next to me paid for me. It was nice. Went to Adoration, got there just as it was ending...apparently they changed the Sunday start time to 6pm. Talked another volunteer who was here the last time I was here and with the new sister in charge of volunteers. I'm working at Kalighat tomorrow. :-)

Walked back with some really sweet volunteers from Poland, Australia, the UK, France, and California. Walked down Sudder street for the first time...and everyone recognized me. It was ridiculous. Then to Khalsa for dinner. Just standing outside, AP (the guy at the counter) saw me and smiled. I walked in, and he said, "it's been what, two years? How are you? Your friend was here a few months ago. Not Jeff, the other one." Jake. :-) I told him I had missed Khalsa a lot. We sat down, and AP came over and said (I am not kidding) "dal mahkhani, right? That's your favorite." My heart melted. I've been gone for two years, and AP still remembers that I want dal mahkhani. After dinner, I told the waiter (who I saw nearly every day two years ago but could never talk with) that I am happy because I now I can speak Bangla. He said, in Bangla, that he is also happy now that I understand Bangla. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. After a fantastic dinner, I walked back down Sudder Street, and sat down at Tirupati. They handed me the guitar. I played and sang the song I wrote in Bangla. Then came here, to the internet cafe. The guys recognized me again, and said (again), "it's been what, two years?" We had a whole conversation in Bangla. I asked if I needed to register again. He said, "do you have the same thumb?" because there's a thumbprint sign-in system. I thumb printed. My picture showed up on the screen. Now I'm here.

Okay, sorry, that's a whole lot of text after a summer of writing nothing. There's something about Kolkata that makes me want to write and write and write, to get down in words all of my experiences, feelings, and conversations. ...especially when they're in Bangla. Today has been amazing. Coming back to this city I love and being able to speak has made everything so much more real. Granted, it's only been a few hours. We'll see about tomorrow.

One thing I've realized since returning is this: I can actually communicate in Bangla in Kolkata. I can't do that in Dhaka. I heard a lot of talk in Dhaka about dialect differences from Dhaka to Kolkata, but I didn't understand what anyone meant until I came back here. After a summer of learning a language and being somehow unable to understand what anyone was saying in public Dhaka, I understand nearly everything I hear in Kolkata. I don't know quite why, but somehow Kolkata Bangla is a zillion times easier to understand than Dhaka Bangla. And somehow, my Bangla blends well with the Bangla here. It's so easy to communicate. Maybe I'm overanalyzing. All I know is that I have had a ton of conversations today in which I'm sure I understood people and they understood me. It will be crazy to go back to Kalighat, Apne Aap, and Sonagachi in the next few days. Stay tuned for that. Aaah!

Okay, I wrote a ton.

I'm so excited about this.

Tomorrow: Kalighat.
Monday: CLS in Kolkata.
Tuesday: Apne Aap.
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday: Freeset.

This is amazing.

I need new adjectives.

Love,
Stephanie