The weather here is great; not too hot or cold, very perfect. I'm glad to have come at this time of year, so that I can slowly acclimate to the heat next spring. The mosquitos are out in full force, so my room has been sprayed to the point of toxicity and I have to spray myself every night before I sleep. The room my cousins/aunt have given me is great. It's on the third floor, above everyone else's rooms, and I'm the only person on that floor. I have my own bathroom and balcony, too.

Really, the living accomodations do not take getting used to... What is kind of hard to adjust to is the presence of "servants" (I still can't think of another word that I like better and is just as descriptive). For one, I have no idea how to address them (ie the familiar or respective forms, in Hindi). They call me "didi" (sister), which is similarly strange, as it connotes a familial relation, which we clearly do not have, otherwise they would not be eating on the floor of the kitchen separately and after they have made me dinner, right? The "staff" includes Kishan and Shankar, the cook and all-around helper, who live with us. I think they sleep on the roof (something that still troubles me, though it is a walled-in enclosure). Then there is the dhobi-wallah (washer-woman) who comes twice a week to beat that damn dirt out of our clothes, hopefully not ruining them in the process. There is also the "pocha-wallah", or the woman who mops the floors (well, she doesn't use a mop, she squats down and wipes the floor with a wet rag). This woman is probably the lowest in caste, since wiping the floors means coming into contact with not only dirt, but also the dog's occasional messes, for example. She is also in charge of cleaning the bathrooms. Finally, there is the driver, Baljit, who's personal odor is probably the biological weapon that have eluded Bush and Co. in Iraq. I mean, it *burns* my nose, it's so acrid. There are probably other "helpers" that I'm not yet familiar with, but that's okay. I'm still adjusting to the ones I do know about. It's not that they are ill-treated; on the contrary, my family pays them pretty well. I guess it's just that they are visible reminders of the over-population and poverty problems of India, which make me feel guilty for the lifestyle I lived in NYC. Plus, they all have families and children that live in villages while they live with us, working. Of course, the positive is that they have jobs in good families with good pay... ugh, I can't get my head around it. So, I'll continue to stick my head in the sand, thank you very much. Ignorance truly is bliss.

There are the typical drawbacks of living at home: I must respect the rules set by my older cousin-brothers. And, in the absence of a male to be responsible for me (ie father or husband) they take that responsibility very seriously. It can be a bit suffocating, but I know they are acting out of love and I appreciate their care and generosity. The biggest problem is lack of independent movement: I don't have my own car or scooter, and the buses are *very* unsafe for females. So, I hitch a ride with my cousin into Delhi and home every day. On some afternoons, when I'd like to leave early, that's not entirely possible. However, I can stay with my other cousin-sister or uncle here in New Delhi, which I usually do on weekends so I can see some of the nightlife with the other Fulbrighters. I think I might arrange for some independent transportation, starting next week.

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