she's so hot she's making me sexist

It’s my second to last visit with the dentist in Leh and I am basking in auditory bliss.  On my way into town, a man who I gave directions to not 30 minutes earlier picks me up in his plush Honda. "Hotel Califorinia" is followed by "The Tracks of My Tears" (God bless you Mr. Robinson) and it's the first time that I’ve heard Western music in a vehicle here, a welcome change from the Ladakhi music which I lack the patience to describe.  

 “You’re very beautiful”

Great.  I politely smile and calculate how many kilometers we have have left.  Silence between us is golden.  Rappers Delight teases my aptitude for nostalgia and after further broken dialogue about Ladakh and my role in SECMOL, he awkwardly makes a play to hold my hand.  When this fails he inquires if I have a boyfriend.  The answer to this question is always affirmative and if there is any further probing I plan on dispensing that he is insanely jealous, weighing in at 300 pounds of pure muscle.  I make an annoyed exit but am aware that I’ve left the situation unscathed.

I grab a bus on the way back to campus.  A middle aged man stands up and insists that I take a seat.  How very generous.  The thought immediately dissolves with the realization that the cost of this act is having his groin pressed against my shoulder.  Before I am able to attach any innocence to this he makes a feeble attempt to stroke my back.  I start applauding myself for tactfully manoeuvring myself at the edge of my seat when the woman next to me vacates her spot leaving the space open for this "gentleman" to sit next to me.  He places his bony fingers on my leg and asks if I am going to Spituk, where I am to change buses.  With this, I twist his arm behind his back and swiftly kick him out of the open door as we pick up speed.  The other passengers erupt in song and cheer on the demise of yet another chauvinist bastard.  Actually, what happens is that he swiftly departs before I can blink, and moments later I also make my way of the bus in search of a pool of holy water.

Feeling wholly violated, I start entertaining the idea of walking the remaining distance to campus, and were the sun still shining in it's full glory, I may have given this more consideration.  It's not long after I start walking that a soldier on the side of the road attempts to make conversation with me. Where are you going, where are you from, etc and relatively harmless.  Of course this is then followed by an all too hormonal, 

"There's a cafe at the military base down there. Can you see it?  I will take good care of you. Do you have a boyfriend?  Do you have a husband?"

It takes little time for my imaginary boyfriend to be upgraded to an imaginary husband.  After further beverage insistence and declination he leaves me in front of an army post telling me that he will be back in 10 minutes and that the army will protect me. Fantastic, but whose protecting me from the army?

The second he turns his back I pick up my pace down the road.  A car stops and inside are two men who are going to the bridge where I often make the serene 5.5k walk back to campus.  The driver has a kind face and tells me that he can drop me off closer to the campus as he and his companion are on the way to the monastery next to SECMOL. Sigh of relief follows as I enter this leg of my journey free of harassment.

 I’ve always remarked that Ladakh would cradle me into my India experience.  Various resources cite Leh as being “little Tibet” and the culture here certainly appears to be more representative of a Tibetan environment as opposed to an Indian one. So, I’ve taken baby steps into this country, bracing myself for the beauty and chaos to come in the next couple of months.  However aside from institutional disorganization, pungent odours, and alleyways lined with waste, I'm told that there will be more of this behavior in "real India".  Jodi and Emiko tell me that they have never been groped more anywhere else in their lives, and Western women are automatically viewed as whores.  It doesn't matter that my body is clothed from head to toe, the color of my skin indicates, in already sexist surroundings, that I deserve the treatment that I get.  Of course this is not the prevailing attitude but one held by those living in ignorance, and when you have a country with 1 billion plus, there is bound to be several who spoil the reputation of a place.  A staff member tells me that I had a bad day and that this generally doesn't happen in Ladakh.  I am inclined to take this at face value given that it was my first experience in the two months that I've spent here; however, I know that India (especially Delhi) will be a different kettle of fish. I anticipate many a scoundrel to fly out of moving buses, but we'll see.

with Jodi and Medea- dressed like complete hookers