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Separate Entrances

The people’s voices around me were silenced for a moment as thunder rumbled in the distance. The sky was getting progressively darker and angrier since the group rode the electric bus to the entrance of the Taj Mahal. Wind billowed past me and made my brown Ali Baba pants expand even more. The animals around me felt the moisture in the air; birds flew to the west, monkeys hopped to the safety of the trees. It felt as though hands were touching my shoulders and hair, voices whispering in my ear. Expecting other people around me to be affected by the weather, I turned to scan their faces. The three other girls and two boys were entranced by the tour guides words, which he had already performed for the third time today.

Behind them stood three Indian women in saris that were purple, green, and yellow. They stood motionless watching my group for what seemed like hours, not even slightly embarrassed if one of us glanced over at them. Their eyes were narrowed as they eavesdropped on our conversation by standing only five feet away. It seemed to be a look of curiosity rather than anger, only hoping to see a foreigner in the flesh.

As I looked to the right of the women, I realized that none of the people around me were even looking at the Taj Mahal. They either stared at the screen in front of them as they took hundreds of pictures of their loved ones or were facing the opposite direction smiling at the camera.

“This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life,” one of the classmates Katie said to me. “I’ve never been happier than this moment, right now. Like, I just want to stay here forever.”

I nodded in agreement and smiled at her. Yet underneath the beauty of the Taj Mahal, I felt an energy creeping towards me, as if it lived in the palace and waited for one of its guests to recognize it. I shook it off as I remembered that this was a magical place that is often referred to as the “monument of love”.

The tour guide walked a couple of feet in front of the group and would glance back regularly to make sure we were close behind. He led us towards the base of the Taj Mahal where there were two different entrances with guards pointing people towards each one. The guide motioned for us to follow him towards the left through a small opening in the gate and marble wall. We snaked around the walkway and followed the rest of the tourists up towards the entrance, where we would be able to see the tombs of Shah Jahan and Mumtaj Mahal.

When we got to the top of the walkway, I heard repeated whistles coming from below me. The guards were yelling at the native Indians when they tried to come through the same way as the tourists did. With a sweep of their hand, the guards pushed the natives aside and told them to go to the right, where there was no walkway, but only a longer distance for them to walk. More stairs to climb, while I was able to walk up a flat surface. They were forced to leave their shoes unattended at the base, while I was able to slip a cover over my shoes.

At the entrance, the tourists and natives intersected in the middle, facing a collision of cultures and bodies, leaving everyone wide eyed. An elderly woman in a wheelchair was lifted up all fifteen steps by her family so that she would be able to see this magnificent creation. No one moved aside for her, though, while I, on the other hand, was funneled front row and given the best view of everyone else.

The inside was lit up only by the small slivers of light coming through the honeycomb holes in the marble. The wind followed me through as I walked, gently pushing me from behind to quicken my pace. The other members of my group were far behind me as I exited the building. The rain finally decided to make an appearance as it ran down the marble walls and puddled at the base. People stood on the back portion that looked out at the Holy River which spooned the Taj Mahal, watching each other in an eerie silence.

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Anne Berset 

INDIA – UNIVERSITY OF HYERDERABAD, 2018 FALL

Anne Berset is double majoring in Creative Writing and Psychology as well as a minor in Philosophy. She is studying at the University of Hyderabad in India for the Fall term, where she will be taking philosophy and political science courses. She hopes to gain a new perspective on culture, politics, and religion while abroad. Anne loves to watch films, go on hikes, and spend time with animals.

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Directionally Challenged

My second day in Mendoza, I took three different buses before I was finally on the right one home. Even before arriving in Argentina, I had (and still have) a notoriously bad sense of direction. I’m used to not worrying about my data usage and pulling out my phone to look up  directions. However, on just my second day, the phone I brought to use as my Argentinian phone broke, I didn’t have an international plan for my US phone, which was with me, so I relied on frequent stops at coffee shops with free WiFi and a physical map. Google maps told me to take the T12 home; I waited for 30 minutes, but the T12 never came. I gave up and got on a random bus, hoping for the best. It was going in the opposite direction. I got off and asked some locals which bus to take. They showed me, but it was the wrong one as well. Thankfully, the bus driver knew which bus I needed to take, so after close to an hour and a half of wandering around Mendoza close to nightfall, I was finally on my way home. Two weeks later, I find out the T12 is actually the G12.

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In my first few weeks abroad, I thought my biggest issue would be the language barrier since Argentina is a Spanish-speaking country. It didn’t even occur to me that navigation would trump that in the beginning. I am now five weeks into my program; it took me four weeks to figure out exactly which buses take me home, which take me to class, and which take me downtown. I carried my map for the first three weeks, feeling like the ultimate tourist when that was what I was trying not to be. Walking helped. I was able to see and explore the city, orienting myself so I knew where I was in relation to other locations. Mendoza is a grid and I can now proudly say that I know approximately a 25-block radius.

A highlight came when a woman asked me for directions. I had no idea where she was going, but I must have looked comfortable enough for her to assume that I did. Learning a new city is challenging and uncomfortable, but the first time you are able to travel without getting lost is one of the most rewarding feelings.


Zoe Kaldor

 ARGENTINA – IFSA: MENDOZA UNIVERSITIES PROGRAM, 2018 FALL

Zoe Kaldor is an International Studies and Strategic Communication double major. She is studying abroad with IFSA-Butler in Mendoza, Argentina. Originally from New York, DU’s study abroad program was one of the reasons Zoe chose to attend DU. She specifically chose to study abroad in Argentina because she wants to improve her Spanish skills and experience a new culture, for she believes it is so important in an increasingly global society to be able to communicate in languages besides English as well as experience different ways of life. Zoe is an avid traveler and loves to explore new places; she is excited she gets to do both.

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