Song of the World

Leave Taking

2011-05-04T20:49:00.000-07:00

Well, tomorrow I'm leaving.

I really can't figure out just what it is I'm feeling about it. I guess the process of packing up and saying goodbye is stressful. After Kansai Gaidai and Oberlin, you would think I'd be completely used to the hopeful “see you again some day” while not really knowing if that's really true. I'm better at it now than I used to be, but it still drags me down. I have met so many lovely people here who I'm not sure if I'll ever see again. Just yesterday, when I was picking up a few last gifts from the tailor, he asked when I would be coming back, and I said that I'd be back someday and would see him then. He pointed out that he is seventy now and may be 'gone above' by the time I come back.

On Monday, the Khaniyara Knowledge Center team through a surprise party for me and Vandana, who is leaving only a few weeks after me. I knew about it, because they had to tell me to make sure I would walk up the mountain to the center that day at lunch time, but Vandana didn't. As Vandana worked hard all day, they decorated the back room with streamers, a picnic blanket and flowers. They even secretly went off and cooked some food at someone's house close by.

When the time came, they led us into the room, everyone sitting in a circle. We sang some songs, and ate cake. Of course, by Indian tradition, the cake had to be smeared all over everyone's faces after feeding each other a bite, all the while, they were playing the Macarena on repeat for background music. They gave both Vandana and I gifts, and then served an awesome feast for lunch. I was so happy just to be there with them again in that Knowledge Center. I spent the vast majority of my time here working with that team. And now, I can communicate with them better than ever. It was really sweet.

Today was our official farewell party with Jagori. As I had never worn a sari before, I decided that today would be the day. I enlisted Dr. Kusum to help me learn how to wear one this weekend, and then practiced a bit for today. I stayed up late last night and worked all morning on little notes for all forty members of the Jagori team, thanking them all and wishing them well. Good Hindi practice, but exhausting.

Pretty much the whole team came. More songs were sung, cake was eaten, and little speeches were made. Both Kamla and Abha were back for it too. I brought out the completed 1000 cranes and explained them to everyone. Especially the people who helped me were really excited to see them all done. There were lots of hugs, and it was just so wonderful to see everyone in one place one last time.

Tonight is my last night in my house here. The walls are stripped bare. Most everything is packed. Seeing my room so empty almost makes me feel empty. This was my life for two years. It was my first time stepping out, acting like an adult (mostly?), and living on my own. Now I'm going back to who-knows-what. At some moments, it's bittersweet, at others, it's numbing.

Like it or not (and I'm not sure which), I am leaving on a night bus tomorrow night. I still have errands to run and goodbyes to say tomorrow before then. From Delhi, I'm flying to Tokyo via Sri Lanka. I will get on a night bus from Tokyo and go up to Ishinomaki, which is north of Sendai (and well out of the nuclear danger zone). There, I will spend a couple of days shoveling tsunami sludge with JEN and will find someone to give our cranes to. I am hoping to give them to this school. After a little time in Tokyo, I will at last be heading back to America.

I don't know what to think or feel about all of this.

Easter in India

2011-04-24T09:41:00.000-07:00

Happy Easter everyone! He is risen!

Yesterday, I found myself pondering just how I would make Easter a special day, as pretty much the only Christian in the village. I was struck by two ideas. First, I should throw an Easter party and invite all of my English-speaking friends. What better way to spend the day than making food for and serving people I love? On top of that, I had been meaning to invite them all over for a while, and time is running out. Plus, I was able to use the party to introduce Nesaru and Lilyane to important people in the community of foreigners. And, it was kind of a farewell party I could throw for myself.

Second, I decided that I needed to have an Easter egg hunt. Last time I visited Brian and Sonia, they had given me three eggs from their chickens. So, I boiled those eggs, borrowed Vandana's markers, and decorated them. (You would be amazed at just how many web sites there are out there which answer the Google query of “how to boil an egg.”)

And then in the morning, I hid them.

The time it took me to brush my teeth and wash my face in the morning was hardly long enough for me to forget where I put them, so it was not a long search.

After eating my eggs, I had a little Easter Sunday service for myself. I read all four Gospel's accounts of the Resurrection and then sung and worshiped along with a recording of OCF singing “In Christ Alone.” It was a good start to my Easter.

Other than preparing for the party in the evening, I decided that I would take a real Sabbath and not do anything even resembling work. The next eleven days until I leave are sure to be stressful, crazy, and emotional. I needed this oasis of lovely calm before plunging into that. Although, I did need to go down to Sidhbari and take a bus four stops down to Sheela Chowk to find carrots for my curry, and I bought the vender all out of carrots too. It's not carrot season any more, I guess.

I spent the afternoon peacefully embroidering and then cooked my curry and chocolate cake, finishing just as the first of my guests arrived. I had to borrow chairs from both Vandana and Dr. Kusum, but we got a nice circle of chairs out on my porch while we chatted and had dinner. Maya brought a lovely salad (when you live in India and can't trust most fresh produce, a good salad is a heavenly thing) and a pineapple up-side-down-cake. Kishwar brought some Sprite. Didi brought herself, which was quite a lot of work for her to walk all the way up to my house in itself, so I was really glad she came. Dr. Kusum came up with some raita (spicy yogurt salad thingy). Lilyane and Pia brought juice with them. Andrew and Nesaru trickled in with some olives and a big 2 candle for my cake (celebrating two years here). Brian had some web site work to do, so he and Sonia came rather late, but they brought ice cream and a chocolate bunny with them. The bunny was Swiss chocolate and had been blessed by a prominent Tibetan monk. With all that, it was a feast and a party. And my, do I have left-overs.

I really had a great time seeing everyone and hosting them. After all the hospitality all of them have shown me, I really leaped at a chance to give back. This was almost certainly the last time I will see Nesaru. Before I leave, even, he is taking off for a vacation, traveling around India. We parted on very good terms, and I'm glad for that. The rest of these people I am sure I will see at least once more. Kishwar and Maya are talking about having a goodbye tea party later this week, and I've still got plenty of work to do with Lilyane on the web site. Dr. Kusum is going to cook me dinner next Sunday, and I think Sonia and I still have a date for cooking together.

If I'm not careful, it's easy to get overwhelmed with all I have to do and all I want to do before I go, but amidst that, I can't forget all of those people who have made my experience here what it was.

All in all, it was a beautiful Easter.

A Quick Trip to Shimla

2011-04-23T02:12:00.000-07:00

This week, I went to Shimla. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I'm glad I was finally able to go. Vandana is applying for her student visa to the Czech Republic in the fall. As a part of that, she had to get a background check done at the passport office in Shimla, Himachal Pradesh's state capital. When she told me of her plans, I half-jokingly said, “Take me with you.” The more I thought about it, the more I actually wanted to go. She got the go-ahead on Monday night, so I got up early on Tuesday morning and ran to the bus stand in Dharmsala to buy our tickets, we boarded a bus that night, and by Wednesday morning, we were in Shimla.

During the British Raj period, Shimla was the summer capital for the colonial government. It is high up in the mountains, perched along the ridge line. Streets are steep and winding, cut through by occasional narrow staircases. It's like McLeod Ganj times ten, at least, without the Tibetans.

We arrived in Shimla at something like 6:00 AM, having slept hardly at all the night before on the bumpy, winding bus ride. Vandana was staying with the family of her best friend in a town a little farther down in the valley, but they didn't have room for me as well. Almost as soon as we got off the bus, Vandana hailed a taxi and headed for her friend's house. I was left with a wave in the general direction of the main square. I walked briskly off in that direction, dodging eager taxi drivers, but I soon realized I was being followed by a Kashmiri man. Every time I paused to try to figure out where I was or where I was going, he would wave a badly folded brochure in my face and insist that I let him take me to a nice hotel. I told him, “No, go away,” multiple times, but he ignored me, and continued to follow me, trying to get my attention, for almost five minutes until I finally screamed at him, swearing I would call the police if he didn't leave me alone right then. That was a bluff, of course, I didn't know how to call the police, but it was enough for him. Alone on narrow streets where almost no one was about yet, all the stores close, I was terrified that he was still following me.

I took off blindly, shadowing a young Indian family, hoping that they were heading for the center of town, and that they would provide some kind of protection if I were to get harassed again. I followed them up hill and staircase all the way across Shimla to the city's second bus stand. That was when I realized I was completely lost. I back-tracked and asked directions from a few shopkeepers who were just setting up for the day. The deserted, winding streets of Shimla were disorienting. Again, a Kashmiri man tried to catch my attention, promising me a cheap hotel. I quickly told him off and fled.

After a few more wrong turns, I finally arrived in the main square of Shimla, but my victory was short-lived. I was immediately accosted by a cluster of Kashmiris, all trying to get me to go to one hotel or another. I think I had to yell at them once or twice to get away, and then took off in the direction of what I thought was a hotel I wanted to stay at. That turned out to be another wrong turn. I found myself at another end of the outskirts of Shimla. Returning to the main square, the Kashmiris were on to me again. Again, I fled. At that point, I was nearly in tears.

Lonely planet mentioned a coffee shop near by, so I figured I could sit down, have some tea and some much needed breakfast while I figured out where exactly I was going to stay. The constant harassment from these hotel porters had worn away my resolve and I could no longer decide where I wanted to stay. Every time I got close to a hotel, they appeared, frantically demanding that I go someplace else with them. Obviously, it was all for the commission they would get for referring a customer.

I walked up and down mall road looking for my coffee shop, but nothing was open. I stopped and asked for directions a couple of times, but was unable to find it. Finally, one woman told me that it was out of business. I hit the proverbial wall. All emotional fortitude I had left completely collapsed. I found an out-of-the-way bench and cried. I was hungry, but there was no place open to eat. I had some snacks with me, but after seeing viscous monkey fights already that morning on the streets, I was afraid to open my food for fear of getting attacked by monkeys myself. I was tired and worn down by the Kashmiri porters' harassment. I didn't know what to do any more. It was probably one of the lowest moments in all of my time in India.

I called Vandana in tears, telling her I wanted to go back home to Dharmsala right then. Vandana tried to calm me, and asked her hosts for advice. They told me to go to a particular hotel right on the main square. I should dry my tears, and walk quickly and confidently past the Kashmiris. I should check into the hotel, eat something at their restaurant, and then get some sleep. I did exactly that. But even as I climbld the stairs to Mayur Hotel, I saw a single Kashmiri man waiting for me at the bottom, in case I decided that I didn't want to go to that hotel after all.

In all my travels, I've never broken down like that before. I'm surprised at it myself, how deeply getting lost, all that harassment, and not being able to find a safe place to sit really got to me. I don't mean to paint Kashmiris as all bad. All of them Kashmiris I met in Kashmir were wonderful, respectful people. It was the nature of these men's jobs to recruit people to hotels, and as I was pretty much the only foreign tourist on the street at that time of day, all alone, and clearly needing a hotel with my backpack conspicuously on my back, I bore the brunt of it. So, lesson learned: one needs to have a hotel picked out ahead of time and go straight for it. That would have saved me so much stress and misery that morning.

The rest of my time in Shimla was very nice, if deliriously tired. After a nap, I met up with Vandana in the afternoon. She had already taken her paperwork to the passport office and was free to be a tourist with me. We had lunch, snacks, and shopped. In the evening, I went with Vandana to pick up her paperwork, which was completed without a hitch. Our main objective for the trip was accomplished. We went our separate ways for a good night's sleep.

The next day held more shopping and eating. Vandana's hosts owned a nice multi-cuisine restaurant (Qilaa, I highly recommend checking it out if you ever find yourself in Shima) on the Mall Road in Shimla, so we spent a good amount of time hanging out there, and stored our bags with them. Vandana was looking for a good backpack for her time in Europe next year, and I found a cheap sleeping back for my volunteer time in Japan. We also discovered the loveliest little cotton textiles shop I have ever happened upon in India. I admit to going a little bit crazy. I came out with lengths of six different kinds of cotton that I plan to make into shirts or other western clothes once I get back to the US. It was lots of fun.

Our bus ride back, however, was no more fun than the way there. I will be glad to be done with Indian night buses through the mountains. There is just one more left, on my way to Delhi in two weeks. All the same, the finality of that is a little frightening.

Final two weeks, here I come!

Arts Camps

2011-04-19T00:06:00.000-07:00

With my English classes finished, I spent much of the last two weeks working on and running arts camps at our knowledge centers. Exams had just finished and all of the schools had vacation for a week. Kids were ready to kick back and have fun for a while. The idea of arts camps came to Vandana and I in one late-night discussion a few weeks earlier, and from that night, we decided to spearhead the project and both of the knowledge centers as well as a number of our village libraries in more remote villages.

Vandana did the first camp at a village library without me, just before I got back from Kerala, but the day after I returned, it was on me to run a two-day arts camp in Shahpur. Almost sixty kids showed up, ranging from five two twenty-five years old. One of our team members, Amar Singh, showed up to the center with a pickup truck filled to the brim with children from his village.

We started the day with songs, games, and introductions, then split the kids into two grups: big kids and little kids. Activities for the day included origami, paper hats, and thumb printing art. That may not seem like much, but when you only have four pairs of scissors, one stamp pad, and plenty of chaos to go around, activities take a long while. Thanks to the adaptability of the Shahpur team as well as the enthusiastic dramatic stylings of Manju, the day was a great success. We fed them all samosas and bananas before sending them all home in the afternoon, charging the big kids with safely escorting the little kids back home again.

The second day was less of a success. We had only about thirty kids, and a lot of flopped activities. Manju was late, so I had to pull warm-up activities out of thin air, which is good fun when you don't speak a language fluently. We did play the human knot game, and the little kids did far better at that than the big ones. We were planning to make sock puppets (I made a pretty awesome puppet the night before), but only two people of the thirty brought socks, so we grabbed some paper and cut out paper snowflakes. The little kids made paper hats again too. Then we planned to do an acting workshop led by Manju, but they said they weren't interested in acting. We tried charades, but they didn't like that either. In an act of desperation, I had them all stand up and taught them the Macarena. When it doubt, do the Macarena.

We wound up having the older kids read books together in groups, and then summarize them at the end of the afternoon for everyone while the little kids used up every last scrap of waste paper in the knowledge center cutting out paper snowflakes.

On that Sunday, the arts camp came to the Khaniara knowledge center, where I taught English last fall. This time, I had Vandana with me and we settled on just a single-day camp. Again, we had about fifty kids, but this time, it was half little ones and half big kids. We also had some guests from a local handicraft NGO coming to teach origami to the kids. It turned out that one of their interns was Shweta, my bus buddy from the trip up from Delhi. This time, we planned ahead and brought the music for the Macarena. The little kids thought it was hilarious. However, the name 'Macarena,' sounds a lot like the beginning of the Hindi equivalent of “Your mama...” insults. We couldn't have anticipated that that song would set the little kids on throwing insults around like that all morning after hearing the song. Wups.

We did paper hats, snowflakes, thumb printing, and origami again. I spent most of my time with the little kids, as they were very high-maintenance. I wound up making 25 origami fish, step by step, because none of them wanted to try to learn how to fold them themselves. After seemingly never-ending cries of, “Didi! Didi! Do it for me!” with half-folded origami fish thrust into my face from all angles, I decided that I never want to become an early elementary school teacher. No thank you. I now have so much more respect for the people who are.

The third arts camp was to be in our village library in Chola, one of the highest villages in the district. As a crow flies, Chola is pretty near to Dharmshala, but it is about an hour climb straight up the mountain from the nearest road. With thunder rumbling in the clouds above, Vandana, Ritu, and I set off up the mountain for Chola. The path was an unending series of makeshift stairs cobbled together with stones. We had been climbing for about half an hour when it began to drip. That drip rapidly became a downpour. With only two umbrellas between the three of us, we were rapidly getting wet, all of our origami paper with us.

When the wind, rain, and lightning began to pick up even more, clouds surging around us, we ducked under the awning of a house beside the path, which belonged to one of the members of our Chola youth group. We sat there with another old lady, who had also ducked out of the rain with us, waiting out the storm. Soon, the lady of the house and arrived. Recognizing Ritu and Vandana, she invited us to sit inside to stay dry and served us some chai while we waited. Meanwhile, we contacted our village librarian up in Chola, who told us to go back as. The children weren't going to come in all of this rain.

Eventually, the rain did stop and we headed carefully back down the slippery, rocky path. The arts camp didn't happen, but we did manage to stop at the best little momo (Tibetan dumpling) shop in Dharmshal before all heading our separate ways and getting on with our work for the day.

A Short Trip to Kerala

2011-04-10T05:38:00.000-07:00

Last week, as my final class finished up, I decided to take a short trip down to South India. The main object of my trip was to visit the child I have been sponsoring through Compassion International for about the last four years, Nandana. As she lives in northern Kerala, that was my destination.

The vast majority was spent in transit. In fact, I think they only day I did no traveling at all was when I visited Nandana's village. Immediately after my class party, I hopped a night bus down to Delhi. In Delhi, I took the brand new airport metro line straight from the bus stand, and got on a plane south.

I thought I would play it smart and get to the airport nice and early, but when I arrived at the check-in counter, they said that if I had taken my flight to Mangalore via Mumbai as planned, I wouldn't make my connection in the layover, so they quickly switched me to an earlier flight via Bangalore, that was loading that very moment. I tore through the Delhi airport and got onto my plane, with a pit stop at a vending machine to get some potato chips for my 'breakfast'. The rest of my trip went well, and I arrived in Mangalore with no troubles at all. The instant I stepped off the plane I was struck by the intense heat and humidity, which only got worse all week.

The following day, I got up and headed to the train station and bought myself a ticket to Payyanur, the closest city to where Nandana lives. In hindsight, I should have bought a ticket for sleeper class (which has assigned seats even if you're not sleeping) instead of getting the cheaper general ticket. I walked up and down the platform, trying to find the general coach (I now know that all unmarked cars are general), and finally gave up and asked a man who worked there. He pointed me towards the ladies' car. Really, it was only half of a car, with seating room enough for sixteen ladies. It is as if they assume that, in a train for hundreds of passengers, no ladies would ever think of traveling alone. Needless to say, more ladies than that came on to ride there. I managed to get a seat, and we squished more ladies than there were room for on our bench. Some smaller women and children were able to sit on the luggage racks above, while others stood or sat in the aisles. The ride took about two hours, and all the women were infinitely patient with my constant questions of “Is this one Payyanur? Is the next one Payyanur?”

One interesting thing that I saw happen on the train was that there was a girl, probably a bit younger than me. I suspect she was a college student in Mangalore. She was dressed in a pretty, colorful salwar kameez, but as we neared her stop, she put on a black dupata, stowing her colorful one in her purse. Then she pulled out a long black fasten-up dress and put that on over her outfit. Lastly, she wrapped that black dupata around her head and pinned it in place as a head scarf. By the time she got off, she was dressed as a perfectly modest Muslim girl. It makes me wonder if her family is conservative and she must dress that way in her own town, but feels like being more progressive in her dress when she is out. Very intriguing.

In Payyanur, I stayed in a lovely four-star hotel. What a four-star hotel is doing in the middle of rural Kerala, I can't say, but it was very nice. The next morning, a car came for me and took me to Nandana's village.

It was a lovely ride, about an hour long. When I arrived at the local Compassion Center, Nandana, her family, and a few staff members were there to greet me, by a huge sign greeting me. Nandana put a huge garland of flowers around my neck and her mother handed me an equally huge bouquet of flowers. They invited me inside the center for chai, biscuits, and chatting. Nandana is not quite eight years old, and is among the shyest little girls I have ever met. She often had to be goaded into speaking, only to whisper something to the translator or her mother.

We then walked to their home, which was only a very short stroll away. They showed me the gum trees that they farmed, their fruit, their cows, and their bucket well. Their house is a lovely, big, old house, but it houses their full extended family. They gave me a little tour around the house and introduced all the members of their family. Nandana and her parents sleep together in a room that is barely bigger than the small double bed it houses. My Christmas gift this year went to purchasing that mattress. On the bed-side table was a blown-up version of a wallet photo of my brother and I. That was really touching to see there, in such a place of honor. It also amazed me how they all knew the names of everyone in my family off-hand.

I sat with the family for a while ate fruit, and had my very first young cocoanut of my time in India. When not totally ripe, the juice inside is at its best, apparently. The chopped off the top and stuck in a straw for me to drink. Nandana sung me a song about a parrot, and I sung her a song back, the style of which made some of her family members giggle. Indian's tend to find classical singing and vibrato hilarious. I taught Nandana and her mother to make paper cranes, and they in turn taught me to make paper boats.

Then it was time for us to return to the center for lunch. What I ate that day, was probably the best meal I have ever had in India. South Indian dishes are a bit spicier, but they involve lots of cocoanut. There was a chicken curry, dry chicken, baked fish, green beans with cocoanut, and even a beef curry. These are Christians, so they can eat beef on a clear conscience, unlike most other Indians. It was absolutely amazing.

After lunch, I got to meet a number of the other children who participate at the center, as well as the women who work as child counselors there. It seems like these ladies act both as sorts of teachers as well as emotional counselors for the children. They support and talk to the children to make sure everything is going well in their lives and help them through their struggles. We went into their church building and a number of the children came up and did little impromptu performances for me, including Nandana. Meanwhile, the fact that I was wearing a proper salwar kameez was causing quite a stir. Two girls did some classical dancing, while others sang, and Nandana and her friend did a comedy skit, which I didn't understand at all. It makes me wish I also understood Malayalum, the local language. Nandana was much bolder, smiling and letting go, with her friends around. Then they rounded on me and told me to do a dance. So, stumped, I decided to teach them the Macarena. They thought it was amazing and hilarious. I sang another song for them, during which there was definitely a lot of giggling, and then it was time for me to go.

I was incredibly blessed to have this chance to meet Nandana and see where she lives. If all goes well, I hope to be sponsoring her for another ten years, until she graduates from the program. The centers and they ways they are run really impress me. They are like our knowledge centers in Jagori, only so much better run, with so many more children. The children I saw there exuded more confidence and more smiles that kids I have seen anywhere else in rural India. I can't make a before and after comparison, but Compassion seems to doing something great in their lives, and I am glad to be a part of it.

The following days, I did a little sari shopping in Payyanur before I had to catch the night train to Trivandrum. The manager of the center, also the priest of the church attached to it, had been unable to be there for my visit, so he offered to come and say hello that night and then drive me to the train station when it was time for me go. He brought his wife and little daughter as long as well. He wanted to know about my visit, but even more, he wanted to know about my general experience in India and what I do up here in Himachal. We talked a long time about my English classes and teaching techniques, and I ended up exchanging contact information with him so that when I get my teaching materials consolidated, I can send him sample activities and lesson plans to use with the children there.

The night train was uneventful. I shared my compartment with a young family, who were polite to me. I slept well through the night and then arrived in Trivandrum in the morning. After showering at my hotel, I spent the day exploring the city, largely in their Zooilogical Gardens. There was a surprisingly good zoo there, lovely flowers, a so-so art museum, and lots of ice cream. Then I went silk shopping. South India has beautiful, cheap silks, and I managed to find some that I was looking for for almost $1 per meter. I am kicking myself now that I'm back in Himachal for not buying more.

The next morning, I flew back to Delhi to spend some time with Devika. As we landed in Delhi and the plane door opened, a stewardess announced over the intercom, “Your attention please, ladies and gentlemen. Sri Lanka is batting, and it is thirty-two for one.” Everyone cheered. It was, after all, the Cricket World Cup finals, and every eye and ear in India was on the game. Back at Devika's house, we spent the night watching the game. India won, finishing with a spectacular hit, soaring into the stands.

The next day, I went shopping with Devika for clothes and origami paper, and then it was time for me to get on a bus again. When I arrived at the bus terminal, it was immediately obvious that my bus wasn't there yet. When asked, one man behind the counter said that our bus was broken down and wasn't coming, but another man insisted that it was coming and everything would be alright. As it turns out, the bus was broken, and it did not come, but everyone did turn out alright. Everyone with a ticket for the Volvo bus was instructed to sell it back and then buy a ticket for the TATA bus, which was going. It was chaotic in the extreme, but in the end, everyone got a seat. My seat mate was a friendly girl from Hyderbad named Shweta who was moving up to Dharmsala to work with a handicrafts organization for a while. We chatted a bunch and then exchanged phone numbers before we parted ways in the morning.

And so I arrived safely back in Himachal Pradesh, ready to finish up my last month here.

Thoughts on Japan

2011-03-19T04:44:00.000-07:00

I feel the need to say something in reference to the recent disasters, tragedies, and chaos in Japan in the wake of the major earthquake and tsunami last week.

First, I should confirm that all of my friends in Japan are okay, and, as far as I can tell, so are all of their friends and family. They are all quite shook-up though. Even in the areas not directly effected by the quake, it seems that everyone is nervous or even scared. The scare at the Fukishima reactors, and the spectacular job the media is doing in fueling people's fear of it all. As far as I can tell, things are calming down a bit. The aftershocks are weakening (you can check out up-to-date details on recent earthquakes here). For a saner and more academic perspective on the Fukishima plants, I suggest reading the articles here. Up here in Himalayan India, I find myself glued to the news every morning and evening. I must read ten or fifteen articles about it every day.

My heart aches and goes out to all the people affected by the disaster, from the people stuck in elevators caught during black-out rotations in elevators to the people who watched their grandma get washed away by the tsunami because she couldn't run fast enough.

I had been planning to visit northern Honshu and Hokkaido for about a week on my way home from India in May, but these recent events have altered my perspective. I still want to go to Japan, provided it is stabilized and safe, but I want to spent at least a part of my time there doing relief work.

In the mean time, I am working to fold 1000 paper cranes. As the Japanese legend goes, if someone folds a thousand cranes, their wish will come true. My wish is that Japan will completely recover and that its people will find comfort in the wake of this disaster. As I have shared this wish and ambition with my friends, co-workers, and even students, many of them have jumped at the idea of folding cranes to show their support for Japan. It's a small gesture, but it is a gesture that they can make right here from Kangra District. With me working on our team in Shahpur and Vandana working with the team in Khaniyara, we collected 82 cranes yesterday alone. Through this project, we are also able to educate local people on another foreign culture and encourage sensitivity to events happening in the world outside local people's immediate sphere of influence.

With everyone's help, we have collected 188 paper cranes so far. While I had brought some origami paper back from Japan with me from my trip last spring, it is nowhere near enough to make a thousand. So, I've been collecting pretty paper from whatever sources I can and cutting it into squares. The Tibetans have a recycled paper factory that makes lovely papers, and Norbulingka, a Tibetan arts institute, makes beautiful printed wrapping papers that we can cut up as well. My students and colleagues have cut up old reports and homework to make cranes with as well. When I have a thousand, I will string them up in garlands of a hundred and attach our wish in three languages: Hindi, English, and Japanese. I am hoping to get anyone who folds for the project to sign their name as well.

I do want to assure anyone who is reading this that I do plan to be smart about going to help in Japan. I am watching the news very carefully and I do not plan to go unless it does look safe. If I can't go, I will find some other way to get all the cranes to Japan as a show of support from people living in rural India.

A True Story

2011-03-19T04:09:00.000-07:00

This is a tale of chance encounters and true love.

Yesterday, faced with the tragedy of an emptying kitchen, I stopped at the In-and-Out in Dharmsala on my way home from work. I sought only muesli, soy milk, cookies, and other such daily needs. Making my way down one of the two aisles, I found my soy milk and my breakfast, but then I saw it.

Tucked into a corner between the muesli and the instant idli mixes were the familiar blue and orange boxes from my childhood: Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. Seizing four boxes into my arms, I was swept away by the thrill of encountering my first love. It had braved all obstacles to find me in this remote part of the world.

Cookies forgotten, I took my Mac and Cheese to the counter, only to discover that it had been so recently stocked that no one knew what its price was supposed to be. While the two cashiers punched fruitlessly at their computers, searching for a price, I was joined at the counter by another foreign woman, also clutching a box of Mac & Cheese in her hands.

We exchanged feelings of mutual thrill at finding our beloved dinner on such an unlikely shelf. I admitted to having long finished off the supply of Mac & Cheese that my parents had mailed me while she lamented that, of the ten packets of cheese sauce she brought with her, very few were left.

She asked me if I was a fellow Canadian, as Canadians enjoy Mac & Cheese more than any other people in the world. I replied that I was a Minnesotan, but I may as well be Canadian for my love of Macaroni and Cheese.

Finally, the clerks discovered that each box was only 150 rupees, so we paid and parted ways, me with my macaroni and she with hers. Although the bus I rode home was one of the most crowded I have ever ridden and my bags were heavy with groceries, I hardly noticed, the lightness of excitement of my dinner date for that evening sending me floating home.

At home, I made my Macaroni & Cheese, and it was delicious.

His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama

2011-03-15T01:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I had the chance-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go hear the His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama give a teaching in McLeod Ganj. I attended with Vandana, the visiting Shansi fellow Erika, and her friend Barbara. Even before we could go, because of security reasons, we all had to register for the teachings. Erika and Babs took our passports and two passport sized photos to an office in McLeod, then returned with a little yellow card in Tibetan, with one of those photos and our registration information.

We met up on Monday morning and headed down to the temple together. I have never seen McLeod Ganj so packed full of people before. At the temple we went through a vigorous security scanning. Basically anything that isn't allowed on an airplane was not allowed in the temple, plus no cellphones, cameras, or other electronics, with the exception of little FM radios. The radios were necessary for translation. Then we all got a thorough pat-down before we were allowed to enter. Entertainingly, of the three security lines, one was for Tibetans, one was for monks and nuns, and one was for foreigners. Vandana, an Indian, was told to join us in the foreigner line. I am sure that was a first for her in her own country.

Even with our attempt to arrive early, hundreds of people had arrived before us already. The four of us found a place to sit on the ground in front of the temple, sitting on shawls or our shoes for a bit of cushion. Although we were not in a position to see His Holiness while he spoke up on the second level of the temple, we could see him enter and climb the stairs at the beginning as well as when he descended at the end. Just as in the photos, he looked unassuming with a warm, contagious smile. He was greeted with chanting and throat singing from the monks and Tibetans, then he started to speak.

He began the teachings in English, welcoming the special guests from Thailand who had requested the teaching and everyone else, then explaining what text he would be teaching from. Even with the speakers projecting his voice all over the temple compound, it was still very good to have our little FM radios that we had borrowed from Dr. Barbara. There were several local channels going: one for the Dalai Lama's speech, an English translator, a Thai translator, and probably a couple of others. We brought two radios and ear-bud headphones with us, but we quickly discovered that one of the radios did not work. Once he switched into lecturing in Tibetan, we scrambled to find the translation channel, then one of the two people sharing the headphones would have to repeat what she heard to the other two. That job usually fell to me or Vandana, though we traded off with the headphones. His Holiness did switch in and out English a couple of other times. His voice, even when I could not understand him, was deep and very pleasant to listen to.

His morning teachings went on for three hours. He gave a short history of Tibetan Buddhism, touched on its main points such as cultivating compassion, knowledge, and single-focused meditation. He then went on to talk about the relations of suffering and happiness to the other parts of life and how causes and outcomes, in a religious way, were related. He stressed again and again that the important practices and values of Buddhism appear in essentially all other world religions, but is a sense of morality and not a deity that prompts pious living in Buddhists.

During the talk, Tibetan bread and butter tea were served and blessed, then everyone ate and drank. The bread came around first, and we being stupid and hungry foreigners, ate ours right away. It wasn't until the tea was poured out for everyone that the Tibetans ate theirs, dipping it in the tea. Tibetan butter tea is an interesting experience, and not one I have ever partaken in outside of a temple. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it tastes like a cup of salty, melted butter. It is easier to think of it as a soup than a tea. That said, it was hard for me to drink without the bread to wash it down. The Tibetans sitting near us noticed that we didn't have any bread with their tea, so they broke their rolls in half and shared it with us. It was very sweet of them.

The teachings broke for lunch and His Holiness descended from the temple. A shiny new SUV pulled up into the temple, he got in with a bow and a wave, and he was driven away to his residence for lunch. No one clapped. People only put their palms together and bowed in a gesture of respect to him as he departed. His car was no more than 20 feet from where we sat.

Then, everyone mobbed for the main gate. Again, I marveled at just how crowded McLeod could get. The four of us got some lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around McLeod Ganj. We didn't realize that there were also teachings in the afternoon. That was alright, however, as Erika and I were starting to feel a bit sick and Vandana had to go back down to Sidhbari for a meeting at Jagori in the afternoon. There were teachings again today, but none of us went. Erika and Babs are on their way to Amritsar, Vandana is working, and I am taking a much needed day off.

I am really glad I finally got to go hear the Dalai Lama speak, after spending so much time living so close to his temple. It was a great introduction to Tibetan Buddhism for me. I feel like I understand their culture a lot better, even after listening to him speak for only three hours.

Women's Day 2011

2011-03-13T09:04:00.000-07:00

Happy belated International Women's Day! As can be imagined, given the feminist nature of the organization I work with, there were many celebrations to be had this week. This year is the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day, so the events had to be particularly special. Officially, the day falls on March 8th each year. Nishtha held their celebration on Tuesday while Jagori held its two days later on Thursday. That way, the staff and friends of both organizations could attend both events.

Nishtha's celebration fell on a lovely spring afternoon. Participants were greeted at the gate with a hug from the Nishtha women. They put a dot of red coloring on my brow and tied a red protection string around my wrist, with a marigold tied into it.

The event started in Nishtha's community center with a video on water and environmental concerns made by Vandana. Making women's participation in environmental issues a focus for the afternoon, they went on to discuss issues such as cementing in streams and burning plastic. I was shocked to see just how many local women did not know burning plastic releases cancer-causing toxic gasses. There were gasps of horror and surprise from among the audience. This gives me all the more reason to be glad that Nishtha used Women's Day as a platform to spread awareness.

After those talks, everyone moved outside to the lawn for speeches, songs, skits, and dancing. Though it was a relatively small gathering of about fifty people, I feel that it was a great success, seeing the smiles on everyone's faces.

Jagori held its event in Shahpur, near where I am teaching these days, an hour and a half away from where I live. It was on a much larger scale, with around five hundred people attending. I rose at the crack of dawn, put on my purple kameez with white salwar, and hopped in a van packed with other Jagori team members all headed for Shahpur. We spent most of the morning setting up the tent area with streamers, tables, a stage, and all sorts of other glitzy yet necessary things. I do admit to spending a lot of time transfixed, watching Manju create this colorful welcome design out of colored saw dust. It was fascinating.

As we were setting up, we were visited by a Brahmin Hindu holy man. He approached Manju and the others at the front of the tent and demanded to know what we were doing. When they explained our women's day celebrations to him, he angrily protested that such feminist things were not needed. If men respect women and act properly, they will become like gods. Likewise, if women respect men and fulfill their roles properly, they will also become like gods. Therefore, feminism isn't needed and is misleading. Or something like that, anyway. From what I can see, Brahministic Hinduism certainly does not allow for women's liberation.

He then went on to insult the Jagori team saying that we were all uneducated and very stupid. To make his point, he pointed to the buttonhole on his vest and asked them what it was called in English. Rightfully, my colleagues claimed it to be a buttonhole. He vehemently disagreed with them, so they brought me over and asked me what I thought it was. I also answered that it was a buttonhole. He began to scream at me saying over and over that that was a huge mistake and that I was stupid too. Shrugging, I admitted that I was only an English teacher from America, so I would not know these things. (Besides the fact that I am something of a seamstress.) Crazy as the man was, I was quite proud of my successfully executed use of sarcasm in Hindi. He eventually declared that it was really called a 'stitching hole' (not true, friends), then lost interest and wandered off.

When the event began, I was a bit nervous at how few people were attending, but slowly and surely, women trickled in to fill our tent to the brim. They came from all over; from Shahpur itself and from distant, remote villages in the mountain, all ready to celebrate being women and support each other in how far they still have to go together, to gain equality and respect.

The four hour even included a number of guest speakers, songs, a skit, and special recognition for women who were recently elected into their village panchayats (five-member councils that govern each village).

Leading up to the elections this last December, Jagori worked at training women and sympathetic men in how to stand for the elections and how to act once they were elected. There is a law stating 33% of all members of the panchayats must be women, and, in alternating years, the pradhan (head of the council) must also be a woman. While this is a great start towards given women a voice, frequently men force their wives to stand for the election and are the real power behind their wife's political seat. Seeking to empower women and actually give them a voice, Jagori trained many women for almost a year leading up to the elections. At the event, Jagori handed out certificates of congratulation to all the people attending that had successfully been elected and had them recite and sign a pledge to work for the interest of women in their villages.

All in all, the even was a huge success, and everyone on the team seems really happy with it. While my Hindi still isn't good enough to understand everything, I was able to follow most of the proceedings and thought it was all very exciting. The empowered energy of the day was exciting, and after it all, we broke out into spontaneous dance. I am very glad that I was able to be a part of this this year, a day celebrated by women all around the world. Though struggles and issues may be different across the globe, we women are united in our quest for equality.

A little bit tasty

2011-02-19T03:50:00.001-08:00

Today I accomplished something I have long dreamed of: cooking something delicious from scratch without any kind of recipe. The result was so lovely, I thought I would share it.

I think I shall call it Stir-Fried Tofu with Pumpkin and Broccoli. So here's how it goes:

-Ingredients-
¼ of a medium sized pumpkin, cubed (this is like 5 or 6 cups, I think)
1 head of broccoli
4 c tofu, cubed, or thereabouts
1 c cashews
½ tsp mustard seeds
2 tbs sesame seeds
6-8 cloves of garlic, minced
1 itty-bitty onion, diced (this comes out to about 2 tbs of onion)
2 tbs soy sauce
1 tbs salt
2 tsp oregano
a pinch of thyme
a pinch of basil
olive oil
1 c noodles (I used some really fine Tibetan egg noodles, and the flavor was nice)

1. Heat some olive oil in your wok. As it's warming, throw in the sesame and mustard seeds and wait until they start to dance around in the oil and crackle. Then add the onion and garlic and fry them until they start to brown a little.
2. Add your tofu and fry that until it also starts to brown a bit. You have to do this first, otherwise it will fall apart all over the other ingredients. Once it has browned, add the pumpkin and broccoli.
3. Start boiling those noodles.
4. Keep frying the veggies and such until they start to get tender. Add the cashews, soy sauce, salt, oregano, thyme, and basil, then toss it around a bit more.
5. When the noodles are ready, toss them it with a bit more olive oil, then serve.

This is delicious and vegetarian, though unfortunately not vegan because of the egg noodles. You could probably find some vegan noodles and substitute those instead. This was largely an experiment of my kitchen with what I had lying around. I invite anyone to try this out and play with it, seeing how it can be improved upon.

And it's so colorful!

Mandatory Vacation 2 - In Photos of Animals

2011-02-19T03:18:00.000-08:00

I am sorry about the long gap between blog entries. My motivation for blogging is slowly leeching away.

As many of you may know, I took another mandatory vacation, thanks to my visa, for two months or so. I began in Jaipur by visiting my cousin Laura, who was studying abroad there for the semester. After Jaipur, I fled India with my exit date deadline on my heels, and traveled in Malaysia and Singapore with my mother. We started in Kuala Lampur, then traveled up to Georgetown in Penang Island near the border with Thailand, spent a few luxurious days in a resort on Pangkor Island, then bused down to Singapore. We entitled our travels “Eat, Beach, Shop.”

From there, we parted ways, and I went to visit the Shansi fellows, Sarah and Julia, in Banda Ache. We were joined by Nicole, who was fleeing the ash of the eruptions of Mt. Marapi. Thanks to a Muslim holiday, the four of us and two more of their friends, we were able to spend almost a whole week on the nearby island of Sabang, snorkeling, eating, and lying in hammocks.

Due to some mishaps with a ferry, Julia and Sarah getting left behind on Sabang with their motorbikes, I wound up joining Nicole with some local NGO foreigners on an elephant safari. While I'm not sure exactly where we went, we 4-wheeled down along the western coast through deep, muddy unfinished roads to a jungle hut where Indonesian forest rangers used trained elephants to patrol the jungle for illegal activities.

After that and a bit more time in Banda Ache, I struck out on my own to another part of Sumatra. I flew to Medan, then caught a shared car to Lake Toba, an ancient volcanic caldera lake. It was beautiful and peaceful, and the local Batak people were wonderful. Sadly, tourism has all but dried up there. I ended my time in Indonesia in Ubud, Bali. There, I saw cultural music and dance shows every night, ate well, and was a general tourist. The day of my departure, however, I walked into a bed post and broke my little toe, giving me a bothersome limp for the rest of my travels.

From Bali, I flew to Sydney to meet my lovely friend Samantha, who I had studied together with (and appeared together on Japanese television with) in Osaka. I had a great time hanging out with her, exploring Sydney, and meeting her friends and family. Two days, when she was working, I joined up with some Chinese tour groups and got to see other parts of the area, including the Blue Mountains. Thanks to those tour groups, I started to forget that I was in an English speaking country.
Finally, my trip turned towards America. With a 4-hour layover in Fiji, greeted by a merry band of men in sarongs and tropical shirts playing and singing a welcoming song as we came off the plane, I headed for Los Angeles. I had a jet-lagged lay-over and spent two days following my Obie-friend Lisa around.

Then, after 16 months, I returned home for the first time. I saw friends, family, and all sorts of familiar sites that really warmed my heart. I had forgotten what it felt like to really truly feel comfortable in my surroundings. I admit, it was a bit hard to leave, but after new years, I did.

Now I'm back in India with less than three months left. I'm teaching another batch of English students and enjoying it just as much as ever.

To add a little more life to this overdue entry, I present a photo narrative: Jenna's travels, with animals.

Kuala Lampur, Malaysia

Pangkor Island, Malaysia

Singapore

Sumatra, Indonesia

Ubud, Bali, Indonesia

Sydney, Australia

Dellwood, MN, USA

Manali

2010-07-14T00:16:00.001-07:00

Last week I took a four-day trip to Manali between my final test and the class party. Manali is east of here, though still in Himachal Pradesh. It is also the largest domestic tourist destination in this part of the country. I went because I was exhausted from a marathon of teaching and little bits of nagging Jagori drama. I wanted to see someplace new and use the time to regroup and rest so that I would be ready to teach again when I returned. That, I succeeded in. My intention had been to hop coffee shops, reading, write, and otherwise take it easy, but my plans quickly changed upon arriving.

Though first, I should mention the bus ride there. I went and booked a ticket at the Dharmshala bus stand a few days in advance, as I always do when going to Delhi. What I didn't realize until the bus pulled up the night of my departure I had booked a government bus for the ten-hour journey. This is the sort of bus I take up to Dharmshala, flat-seated and crowded.

There were just a handful of other foreigners on the bus with me. One of them was a woman from Australia who had left home five years ago as a Buddhist nun to study Tibetan and the Buddhist teachings. She invited me to join her on her seat so we wouldn't have to sit by strange men, which is a very real concern given the stories of harassment on buses. Having her to chat with helped pass the time and distract from the uncomfortable seat. We stopped at six or seven other bus stands on our way, picking up new passengers, and we even delivered mail bags to a few villages. Somewhere during the night, it started to pour a cold rain. I wasn't prepared for it, and spent the night cold and awake. The conductor wasn't announcing the stops, so when we stopped briefly at Manali, I didn't know to get off. Shortly after we started going again he came to me and asked, “Weren't you going to get off at Manali?” As soon as we realized my mistake, they stopped the bus and flagged down a passing taxi. It was then 4:00 AM.

The taxi dropped me off at the hotel I had booked, which I discovered to be easily the grungiest backpacker lodge in all of Manali. There was no one at the reception counter when I arrived but the door was open, so I sat down on the dirty floor and tried to stay awake. About an hour later, the confused watchman stumbled upon me. I couldn't check in until much later, but that didn't stop him from giving me the key of a room to sleep in.

The reason I chose to go to Manali in the first place was because my friends Sonia and Brian were staying there for a few weeks so Sonia could take care of her brother's travel agency while he was away. Sonia called me that morning to tell me that she had a girl with her that I could travel and even stay with during my time there. I thought, since they gave me a bed already that morning, that I should stay one night at that dirty hotel, but I was saved from any further time there by a new acquaintance.

This girl, a friend of a friend of a friend, had just graduated from high school in Holland and was in the middle of a five week solo trip around India. Tyrtza and I hit it off well, so we decided to travel together around Manali. The first day, we mostly just ate and wandered Manali aimlessly. On the second day, Sonia helped us arrange for a car to take us around in the morning to see the local temples.

I used to say that Himachali temples were boring by comparison to the others I had seen around the country. That is only because I hadn't seen any temples in the wood and stone style that is common around Manali. They were all stunningly carved in wood, with rows of cut stone brick at varying intervals. All had high peaked roofs with carved wooden tassels hanging down from the eves. Our driver took us to see a number of these, including the famous Hadimba Temple, the Temple of Manu, a small Tibetan monastary (in typical Tibetan style), and a temple up the side of the mountain in Vishisht that was famed for its hot springs. Unfortunately, a cold rain poured all day, so we bathe in the springs themselves. That night, we managed to keep ourselves up long enough to watch the Spain versus Germany World Cup match at a restaurant near our hotel in Old Manali. (After spending the week with Tyrtza, I was ready to root for Holland in the finals. It's a shame they lost.)

On our third day, we set off on our own, catching a local government bus for Naggar. It was about an hour-long trip over beautiful mountainsides to the small mountain village. Naggar is most famous for its castle, built in the 1600s by the Sikh Raja of the local kingdom. (And sadly, sold by one of his descendants to the British for only a gun in return.) It sat perched on the hill, looking down spectacularly over the valley below. It was built in the same carved wood and stone style as all of the local temples and looked to be more of a luxury retreat than a military center. Of all the castles I've seen in Asia, this is probably the one I would most want to live in. Also in Naggar was the house and gallery of Roerich, a famous Russian artist and peace activist.

On our way back down the mountain, we stopped at a shawl shop. In the few days there, I had fallen in love with the natural colors and simple geometric woven patterns in the local Kully shawls. As it turned out, the shop I stopped in was a family run business, where everything in the store was made in a workshop in the basement. After I bought my yak-wool shawl, the shopkeeper offered to take us downstairs to see the women work. There were six or eight looms arranged around the room, with three woman working on them at the time. A fourth woman sat in the corner, spinning the wool into thread. It was fascinating to watch as the woman took a confused mass of colored threads and turned them into patterns. That night, we had dinner with Sonia, Brian, and two more of their friends from Dharmshala. As it turns out, these two were also good friends with the nun I had rode to Manali with. We had some of the best food I have had in a long time. My dinner consisted of baked trout in an herb butter sauce. Sometimes I miss chicken. Rarely do I miss pork or beef. But, have I ever missed fish. Himachali farm trout isn't as good as catch-it-yourself Minnesota walleye, but that was a meal I will remember for a long time.

On Friday morning, Tyrtza boarded a bus on the next leg of her adventure. I was left to do the aimless wandering that I had originally planned on. Most of the afternoon was spent sitting in Sonia's office chatting with her or reading a book. She had booked me a ticket on a delux bus back to Dharmshala, which I boarded that evening. We had some tire trouble in the night, so I didn't arrive home until almost 7:30 in the morning, but they were kind enough to drop me off right in Sidhbari.

Returning, I was ready to start right into work and teaching again. I was refreshed. I had my class party the next day and I will be starting another set of classes next week. Now I'm ready for it in energy and spirit.

Parties and Teaching

2010-06-28T05:23:00.001-07:00

Once again, it's been a long time between entries, and I apologize for that. During May, my family visited for two and a half weeks, and immediately after, my students asked me to switch the English course from a three-month three days a week course to a two month five days a week course. That has kept me plenty busy and exhausted for the last month or so.

Having my family here, my parents, my brother, and my cousin, was really wonderful. We took long walks, ate lovely dinners, played everything from Clue to charades, went shopping, and saw some local sites that even I haven't had a chance to explore yet. The longer they were here, I could see my parents grow more and more comfortable with the idea of me living and working where I am.

At the end of their time here, we left Himachal Pradesh for Delhi, then hired a car to drive us straight down to Agra. We happened to time our trip down onto the plains during the hottest week of the year. Temperatures in Delhi were reaching 48 C, which is about 120 F. Staying in that air conditioned car and immediately hopping into air conditioned restaurants and our air conditioned bead and breakfast made it bearable. We got up early the next morning, 5:00 AM in fact, so that we could be at the Taj Mahal by 6:00 AM. Even that early in the morning, it was undeniably hot. The Taj itself was gorgeous in the early morning light. Only a few other tourists were around, so we even managed to get a few photos of the Taj Mahal without other people in them. Pretty impressive for one of the most famous landmarks in the world.

After breakfast, we hopped back into our air conditioned car and drove straight back up to Delhi. In Delhi, we did a bit of shopping and quite a lot of eating. Only a day and a half later, my family got back on a plane for the US and I for Himachal Pradesh.

Shortly thereafter, Anya's two year term was up and it was time for her to travel her way back to the United States. The night she took a bus down to Delhi, a handful of us saw her off at the Dharmshala bus stand, waving until we couldn't see her any more, and crying even a little longer. I admit, being here without Anya now has been tough on me, but it's been three weeks now, and I'm recovering. It's time for me to find out how to stand on my own two feet here.

So, I threw myself into teaching. This session consists of two classes, one right after the other. My first class has three girls who completed only 10 or 12 years of education. My second class is four college girls and one older assistant who works for Kamla. They're all very hard working, when the do show up to class. The difference in the levels of education between the two classes is really apparent in how they take to my activities and lessons. I had wanted to combine the two classes, as teaching a group of under 10 people is very tough. However, a number of my students in both classes were also in a computer class at the Knowledge Center at the same time as the other class, it couldn't be done. I have made the mobilizers promise to get me bigger classes next time.

Despite being busy and mildly overworked, I still have managed to experience life around me. In just the last week, I have been to a wedding, a funeral, and three birthday parties, plus trekking to a temple high in the mountains.

Last Sunday, the last day off I had before the 10-day teaching marathon I'm currently in the middle of, Devika invited me to go hiking with her and five local children. Recently, she befriended the nieces and nephews of one of our co-workers Ravina, and promised to spend a day with them. So Devika, another short-term volunteer from Delhi, and I spent a morning and afternoon hiking up a mountain with four little boys and one girl. They ranged from third grade up to tenth grade, the girl being the oldest. Although the road to Indru Nag Temple was paved, the children often got impatient and wanted to climb up the slopes on short-cuts between the long switch-backs. This gave Devika and the other volunteer some trouble, but my upbringing with lots of hiking, bouldering, and generally scampering around in nature came in handy. I was able to keep up even with the eight-year-old as he scurried up the slopes, then climb back down to give Devika an extra hand. It was refreshing. After they did their worship and offerings at the temple, we sat in the shade of a tree and ate our lunch. That consisted of one little tin of food they had brought with them to share, along with some roti. We supplemented it with bags of chips and cookies. Now that's one nutritious end to a long hike, if you ask me. The way back down was, if anything, harder than the hike up. We took yet another short cut. It was steeper and frequently dusted with dirt or pine needles, which made for slippery footing. We briefly stopped at a smaller temple where a baba, holy man, stayed who reportedly revered Michael Jackson. The children couldn't get much conversation out of him, much to their disappointment.

On Monday morning, I went to a commemorative feast for Dr. Kusum's mother. In local customs, after a death, people close to the deceased mourn for a set period of time. In this case, it was thirteen days. While mourning, they don't work and they don't eat any salted foods. On the thirteenth day, they invite their friends to a prayer service and feast. After eating prashad, a ritual offering to the Gods, I ate some delicious curries and subzis, paying respects to Dr. Kusum and her family. This sort of feast is a marker of the end of mourning, when everyone can eat salted foods again, and that they will now go on with their lives again.

On Tuesday morning, I went to the wedding of my Hindi tutor, Indu's, older sister. The invited me to come only to the last morning of the wedding, when her sister Meena was being shown off. The actual wedding ceremony happened the night before. When arrived, Meena was already deep in the ritual crying of a bride being taken away to her new home. She was sobbing so violently that she couldn't stand while her family stood around tearfully. Eventually, when it became clear that she couldn't make her way to the car herself, her new father-in-law picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her to the car himself. Meanwhile, her husband followed awkwardly behind. Both were still draped heavily in the tinsel trappings of wedding attire. Meena was put in the car with her new husband and some members of his family and her brother, as per tradition. Indu went along as well, for support.

Following the send-off was an all-day feast. People would be coming all day from around the village to congratulate the family and eat. Like the other wedding feasts I have been to, it consisted of seven courses, starting with more yellow foods, ending in darker brown ones, finishing in a sweet rice. I ate with Didi and Maya, who were both there as well, then rode back down the mountain in their car as we dodged the rain. Although we ate early in the day, the feast would last well into the afternoon.

Wednesay was one of my co-worker's birthday parties. Ashish is the Jagori librarian, and I didn't realize until we all went to his house that night that he had an identical twin brother. If they hadn't been wearing different colored shirts, I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. A good number of Jagori staff turned out for the party. There was another seven course feast. Instead of the usual leaf plates, they had paper plates, which had clearly been printed as advertisement for an electronics company. They all bore a picture of a snazzy looking DVD player. Very clever advertisement.

After the feast, there was some singing and dancing. Get a bunch of Jagori women together in one place without an agenda, and that will happen. Then the brought out a cake. We sang happy birthday, then Ashish's family fed him and his brother the cake, smearing it liberally all over their faces. Then it was Ashish and his twin's turn to feed everyone else little bits of cake, starting with their family. It certainly was a more exciting way to eat cake than what I'm used it. Of course, once the smearing and feeding was done, everyone got a little plate with their own piece of cake on it.

After the birthday celebration, there was to be an all-night worship to one of the gods with singing, dancing, and praying. I had to teach the next day, so I politely excused myself and headed home. For most of the rest of the Jagori team, Thursday was a holiday, so that was less of a worry for them.

My second birthday party of the week was for the Karmapa Lama, the head of an older sect of Tibetan Buddhism than that of the Dalai Lama. He is in his mid to late twenties and views the Dalai Lama as his teacher, a relationship that has not happened between the two Lamas in previous incarnations. His temple is in Sidhbari itself, about a fifteen minute walk from my house. I had never been to see him or his temple before, so when I heard about the celebration, I jumped at the chance, and asked Maya if I could go along with her.

We got up early in the morning and walked down together. Even despite being a half hour early, we found that the temple itself was already packed. We waited in a line to get inside that moved nowhere. As we waited, a friend of Maya's, a Tibetan nun who had come early with a delegation of Taiwanese Buddhists, spotted her. The nun took hold of us both and pulled us confidently past security at a side door and found us a cushion to sit on. We were very lucky. I'm sure we wouldn't have gotten inside otherwise.

The morning service was long, but fascinating. When it came time for the Karmapa to come in, he was accompanied by triumphant reedy trumpets that announced his arrival. He came in and paid homage to the Dalai Lama, a cardboard cut-out sat on a throne above his own, before he sat on his own throne. Amid chanting and throat singing from the multitude of monks and nuns present, people walked in a long line past his throne, presenting him with symbolic gifts. The first of which was rice poured over a basin, to represent the creation of the world, the heavens, and the four cardinal directions. Other gifts included small representations of scriptures, Buddha statues, and scarves. This went on for quite some time. Then the head of the monastery, a member of the Dalai Lama's sect, chanted explanations of gifts he and the monastery were giving. This was all in Tibetan and lost on me.

After that, it was time for the guests to all be blessed. Monks passed out cups and poured butter tea for everyone who was inside, then passed out little leaf bowls of sweet rice. After the food and drink were blessed by the Karmapa, everyone ate. Meanwhile, other monks passed out gifts of money to all of the monks and nuns there. Gifts from the Karmapa.

Then people began to file by the Karmapa's throne as fast as they could be ushered by. Everyone carried a scarf with them. First, another monk would drape the scarf over each person's shoulders in blessing, then the Karmapa would touch their head as they passed by, and finally another monk would hand them a red string with a protection knot in it to tie onto yourself. Usually the tying of the string or the draping would be done with by the Karmapa Lama himself, but there were too many people to do that on this occasion. First people who had been waiting outside filed through. Then came the monks and nuns from inside, and lastly ordinary people like us. By this time, we were rushed so much that I had to drape my own scarf around me, but the Karmapa did touch my head as I passed.

We returned to our seats with the Taiwanese group and saw the end of the ceremony. Chanting and throat singing resumed again. I saw older monks passing out what looked like song sheets to the young boys, so that they could join in too. With a fanfare from the reedy horns, about half of the monks put on their huge yellow hats. Fringed with yarn in long crests, they remind me a bit of Roman centurion plumes. They finished their chant and the Karmapa Lama retreated with the trumpets back into his apartments.

The festivities would go on all day, but we only stayed long enough for lunch. Somehow, they managed to feed the hundreds of people that had gathered there for the Karmapa's birthday. It was an auspicious day, with a full moon and a number of celestial objects in alignment. After freshening up, Maya went back for his teaching and cake cutting in the afternoon, but I had a class to teach. Again, she got lucky by seeing another friend in the doorway who let her inside.

The third and final birthday party for the week was for the husband of a woman who was helping Didi with some of her architecture work. Their whole family was staying in the village this summer though they were from outside of Delhi themselves. Maya and Didi invited Sneha, Didi's current intern from Pune, and I to join in. I was to be assist pizza cook and bringer of the entertainment: “The Lord of the Rings” movies.

Making pizza together is something that my family has done together for as long as I can remember, and probably about as often as once a month by the time I was in high school. I love making home made pizza. Not only is it delicious and fun, it brings back many warm fuzzy feelings from home. I didn't mention that to Maya when invited, I just enthusiastically accepted her invitation. I was right in the middle of things, spreading the dough onto the pans, and putting on the sauce and toppings. Maya was so impressed by how nicely I got the dough to spread out and how lovely all the pizzas looked that I am now hired as her pizza cook. I look forward to making more pizza later on. It was a blast, especially with the two young kids hanging around and helping. It turned out that “The Fellowship of the Ring” was a little too intense and detailed for their young son to deal with. We frequently had to pause for breathers and questions. Eventually, their whole family got tired, so they went home. Maya, Sneha, and I did see the movie through to the end though. It was an enjoyable evening, to be sure.

Although the monsoon season is scheduled to start on July 15th here, we have been getting daily rain for some time now. And lately, it's been growing in intensity. Though we still haven't had an all-day rain yet, I think it's safe to say that the monsoons have already started. Although I may leave my home on a sunny afternoon, I can never leave my umbrella behind. Clouds build up quickly in the mountains, and just as quickly descend into the valley.

So, with my umbrella in hand, I soldier on through my last three days of class, a review session, and a test. Then there's that web site to finish and launch. After that, I'm taking a much-needed break.

Re-Entry

2010-05-30T22:23:00.000-07:00

I apologize for going so long between entries. I am now safely back in Himachal Pradesh and working again, though my re-entry has been a bit chaotic. Before, I go into that, however, I'll give you a short summary of the remainder of my travels.

It has been a few weeks since I wrote this, but I didn't get a chance to post it until now. Since that time, my family has come to visit and gone again, and I have resumed my classes once more.

After Biwako, I had some adventures around Kyoto itself. At my host mother's recommendation, I checked out Ryouanji, a temple in western Kyoto famous for its zen rock garden. (Though my host father would say, “It's only rocks.”) Aside from the peaceful rocks, it is situated around a lovely little pond, which, at that time, was surrounded by flowering sakura trees. That day, I also investigated the Nishijin Textile Center. I happened to walk in just before a kimono fashion show was beginning, so I managed to get front row standing room. The rest of the center largely consisted of vendors, a few weaving demonstrations, a small museum on kimono production, and a place where you could get yourself dressed up in kimono for a hefty fee. Following those two stops, I finally accomplished my goal of walking the Tetsugaku-no-Michi, the Philosopher's Path, during hanami. The path runs along a small stream in eastern Kyoto, starting from Ginkakuji, the Silver Pavillion. Overhanging the stream are hundreds of beautiful sakura trees. So, getting myself some sakura flavored ice cream, I strolled under fully-bloomed cherry trees for a good half hour.

I finished up my time in Kansai with Easter. The small church I attended, Agape Christian Fellowship, had a very nice Easter service, and invited me to sing two solo pieces as special music for the day. Even though I had only been with them for three weeks, before the service was over, they laid on hands and prayed for me. Being able to be with my old church for those three weeks was one of the highlights of my trip.

From there, I took a night bus up to Tokyo. I was stunned at just how much easier it is to sleep on a Japanese bus than an Indian one. No crazy, curving roads, no compulsive and constant honking. Well, go figure. In Tokyo, I stayed with the Shansi Fellows who work at Obirin University, out in Machida. I arrived very early in the morning, and only knowing how to get as far as the university campus, I crossed my fingers and hoped I wouldn't get lost. Fortunately, I ran into Ben, the senior fellow there, at the bus stand in Machida. We had never met before, but figured out pretty quickly that, as the only two foreigners at the station, we were both associated with Shansi.

During my week in Tokyo, I mostly took it easy. I went shopping in Akihabara, Asakusa, and Harajuku. I saw the Ghibli Museum, all about those creative people who brought us movies like “Spirited Away” and “Howl's Moving Castle.” It was very charming and I completely recommend it to anyone who loves Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli. I went to some botanical gardens near Machida (famed from the Sailor Moon R movie). Unfortunately, the roses were not in season, though the sakura were still beautiful. I also went out to the man-made island, Odaiba, in southern Tokyo. The monorail out to it was a blast in and of it self. I had intended to go to the Museum of Future Technology, but it was closed the day I went. Instead, I made my way to a famous mall called Venus Fort. The second and third floors are made to look like some ritzy street out of Italy, with a projected sky on the ceiling that changes over the course of the day. Also in my Tokyo wanderings were three graduate school visits. One even included an informational interview entirely in Japanese. Although I was a little panicked at first when the put me in a conference room with a cup of coffee and a pile of information, it really proved to me that my Japanese is still very strong by the end of it.

From Tokyo, I flew to Seoul for a week in South Korea. My friend Jenny, who I studied abroad with at Kansai Gaidai, is currently attending grad school in Seoul, so she helped me find a hostel and met me on my way in.

On my first full day in Seoul, I did quite a bit of getting lost, but I eventually found Tokiko and her cousin, both of whom really love Korean dramas. With them, I visited a number of famous sites from their favorite TV shows, including an old castle and a cake shop. The next day, I went and saw sakura again, which were just at their peak in Seoul at the time. The following day was spent window shopping with Jenny. We met her friend for Korean Barbeque for dinner and some impassioned karaoke afterward.

From there, I bussed farther south to the small city of Gyeong-ju. It is famous as the capital of the Silla Empire, the first empire to unify the entire Korean peninsula. The fascinating thing about Gyeong-ju is that you would turn a corner on a busy street and come across a series of huge royal burial mounds. Sights like that were everywhere. Near to the city there are countless other old structures and artifacts. Only there for three days, I saw only a handful of them.

Perhaps most impressive were the massive Bulguksa temple complex and Seokguram Grotto just up the mountain behind it. After visiting the temple, I took a shuttle bus up to the grotto. It was so high up the mountain that the entire path to it was shrouded in clouds, making for a mystical experience. Inside a small cave, there are stunning stone carvings of the Buddha and other guardians, in a style very much like what I saw in the Ajunta Caves in central India. Also interesting was the Sea Tomb of King Munmu, the first Silla unifier himself. He had his tomb built at sea, just off the shore, in the hopes that he would become a dragon after his death to protect the country from Japanese pirates. There wasn't much to see, more than a few rocks poking out of the surf, but the idea intrigued me. A short walk away were the remains of a temple that his son built, with the hope of housing the dragon when he wanted to come ashore. Closer to Gyeong-ju proper, I also went to see East Asia's oldest standing astrological observatory. It was a tall bottle-shaped tower, not at all what I would have imagined.

From there, I returned to Seoul for the night and had dinner with Jenny again, before flying back to Delhi via Kuala Lampur. I had originally planned to fly through Bangkok and spend the night in that airport, but with the escalating political tensions in Thailand, I decided to change my ticket at the last minute. This added to a bit of departure chaos, but worked out fine in the end.

Re-entering India was a shock. Coming from East Asia, Japan and Korea in particular, where everything is orderly, quiet, and clean, Delhi was overwhelming. Thankfully, Anya was in town to meet her friend Margaret as she flew in as well. Otherwise, I don't know if I would have been able to handle the chaos, noise, and smells of Delhi with as much calm as I did. We saw a not-particularly-enjoyable Hindi film, but it was in an air-conditioned theater, and had dinner before I hopped on yet another night bus back up to Himachal.

I appreciate the relative peace of where I am here. People are far friendlier up here in the village, and there is just so much less going on. You can hardly call the village quiet though, with the cows, roosters, dogs, and other animals, not to mention the occasional car horns going up and down the road and the sunrise and sunset temple music that blares across the village. That is a kind of noise I can handle though.

I am teaching again. So far, I have two classes of beginning English, one after the other in the afternoons. Although I have only had two class sessions so far, I am already loving my students. This round, both classes are almost entirely girls, and the girls in my classes are largely those that are very involved in the Jagori Youth Groups. They have a confidence about them that I haven't seen in other village girls. It's that sort of thing that tells me Jagori really is doing good work.

TARA Center also has a new puppy named Sasha. She's cute and energetic, but really doesn't know her manners. I'm making it a small project of mine to try and teach her how to behave better around people.

Getting registered at the Foreigner Registration Office is also a story that should be told. It's a good example of how things tend to work here.

On my visa, it says that I need to register with the local FRO within 14 days of arriving in India if I intend to stay longer than 180 days. Trying to find a time that worked well for Anya to come along with me wound up taking me to day twelve of fourteen. The afternoon I went, there was a scheduled power outage for that entire area of Dharmshala. While there were plenty of people there waiting to register, the FRO officer refused to sign anything until the power came back. I waited until the office closed, but the power never came back.

The next day I got up early and headed straight for the office with Anya, hoping to get the process over with before my afternoon classes. We arrived just as it opened, filled out four copies of the registration form and took them up to the desk, only to be told that I wasn't supposed to re-register all over again. I just needed to bring him my registration papers from last time and he would sign them again. Of course, those registration papers were back in my house in Rakkar. We took the bus back, and I retrieved my papers. Alone this time, I turned around right away and caught the bus back into Dharmshala again. This time, when I arrived at the FRO office, there were about fifty Tibetans waiting to register before me. I began to wonder if I would make it back in time for my classes. Someone finally told me that there was a shorter line just for women, and so I waited there instead. When I reached the counter at last, the FRO officer signed my paper and gave me three more months of permitted residency, instead of the six I was hoping for. He told me to come back in August, and he'd give me six more then.

Had something like this happened to me even nine months ago, I would have been upset, angry, and ready to give up. This short time that I have been in India so far certainly has taught me a lot of patience.

Return to Kansai

2010-04-01T05:20:00.000-07:00

I have now been in Japan for three weeks, and am as much in love with this country as I have ever been. It is a relief to be in a place where I understand the culture, history, and language. Coming back to Kansai almost felt like coming home to me. Being able to say “tadaima!” (“I'm home”) as I set foot into the Ando house sealed that feeling.

My good friend Tokiko, whom I met while teaching Japanese at Mori no Ike, a part of the Concordia Language villages, has been gracious enough to let me stay at her house since I have been here. It is in Tarumi, a little ways outside of Kobe. She is about the same age as my mother and her parents, who live with her, are in their eighties. It has been wonderful to stay in a home atmosphere with nice conversation and good home-cooked food. When I first arrived, I was constantly slipping accidental Hindi, but in a matter of days, my fluency returned, even if I can't remember some of the more advanced grammar patterns and vocabulary. I guess that comes with staying with people who don't speak English. They taught me to play majong (which I still don't understand very well, but managed to win anyway), and I, in turn, taught them cribbage.

A lot of my time has been spent relaxing around the house, reading, watching Korean dramas with Tokiko and her mother, and running short errands with them. I have been recruited as 'young, healthy bag-carrier' on a few occasions. However, last week, I managed to catch a cold that kept me at home for two days, then throw out my lower back while trying to pick up my futon for cleaning. That has made me take things a lot more slowly, and I am still recovering.

Some fun outings I have had with Tokiko or her friend Tsurusaki-san have been to Suma Temple, the Sumaura ropeway, lunch and fabric shopping in Kobe, a takoyaki restaurant, and the Yume Butai on Awaji Island.

One day when I felt the need for a walk, and Tokiko's parents didn't like the idea of me wandering through a park on my own, they recruited Tsurusaki-san to take me to the temple near her house. It was the first day of spring, so before the temple, we cleaned and put flowers on the graves of her parents and her middle son. It was all done with an air of pleasant remembrance rather than sadness. She even had me pose for pictures next to both graves. Suma Temple is really one of the most interesting temples I have been too. It has neither spectacular architecture nor gardens, but it has lots of statues of different kinds, and a small museum about a historical warrior from that area. Then we went up the mountainside on the Sumaura Ropeway. At the top, there was a tower that had a spectacular view of the surrounding area and Kansai bay. From up there, I could see far inland. Along the coast, I could see almost from Himeji all the way past Kobe and Osaka. The tower also had a slowly spinning cafe, that would take visitors on a slow panorama as they had their tea and cake. (To get to Suma Temple, take the Sanyo/Hanshin line to Sumadera Station and walk straight up the road to the temple. For the ropeway, go to the Sanyo/Hanshin Sumaurakouen Station. The ropeway platform is a part of that station.)

I went into Kobe on a number of occasions. I must admit that I'm disappointed in the “Lonely Planet” for making it seem as if there is nothing to do in the city and surrounding area. I will do my best to disprove this, and provide what I can here. On one particular time, Tokiko and I went to Ygrekplus, a French restaurant with a bakery on the first floor. The lunch set special was absolutely delicious, and had a decidedly Japanese flair to it with lots of seafood. There was also an all-you-can eat bread table with many varieties of fresh baked breads. The desserts looked amazing, but were somewhat expensive. (To get there, get off at the JR Sannomia Station and head south from the central exit. It's about two blocks down, on the corner.) Just across the street from it was a great craft and fabric store, where I spent the better part of an hour after lunch.

Another day, I went by myself to the Yume Butai gardens on Awaji Island. The bridge to Awaji is only one stop down the JR Kobe line from where I have been staying, at Maiko Station. I only had to climb the stairs up onto the bridge and take a bus across to the island. A part of a massive Westin hotel, the gardens sprawl for many acres. I didn't visit all of them, but what I did see was beautiful. The greenhouse was stunning. Take traditional Japanese gardening aesthetic, add modern Japanese art styles and plans from all over the world, and you have the Yume Butai greenhouse. I had never pondered what a Japanese cactus garden would look like before, but when I saw one for the first time, it made a lot of sense. As per gardening aesthetics, everything was carefully placed and arranged as part of a grand plan. Outside, the main garden was full of tulips coming into bloom, while various paths led to impressive overlooks of the bay.

On Sundays, I have been going to my old church, Agape Christian Fellowship, that meets in the Keihan Kuzuha station building. Even though it means getting up early and taking a 90-minute, multiple-transfer train ride to get there. It is great to see all of the old members again, and meet the new ones as well. Since I have been there, one of the members bought an old cafe that the church is now working to renovate to use as fellowship space as well as an independent business. After each service, I have gone with some of the members to eat take-out lunch there and chat for a while. This Sunday, Easter, I will be singing a few solos as special music for them. Pastor Takeshi liked to ask me to sing for them back when I was studying abroad, so I thought I would bring some music along and offer to sing again. That offer was taken up with enthusiasm.

This week, since Tokiko is on a business trip, I have left the Ando house and done some adventuring on my own. On Monday night, I met Masami, who stayed at my house as an exchange student when I was a junior in high school, in Osaka for dinner and karaoke. It was great to see her again, and that she was doing so well. I had gone to her graduation at Kansai Gaidai a week before, but only had a minute to say congratulations before she hurried off. She is already starting her job as a banker this week, and hardly had time to see me, but I am glad it worked out. That night, I went back to Suma and spent the night in Tsurusaki-san's spare room.

The next day, I headed back for the Hirakatashi area to meet my old host family. Mayu has hardly grown, but she has matured. My host parents seem to be the same as ever. Since I stayed with them, they moved into a new house closer to the middle school Mayu wanted to go to. Now that she is in, since it is a combined middle-high school, she doesn't have to worry about entrance exams until college. It is good to see her playing more and studying less, like a kid should be. We walked up the river by their house and did some hanami (cherry blossom viewing), while eating snacks.

Back when I was studying abroad, I quickly bonded with Mayu over our shared love of Pokemon. She used to ask me to get out my DS and play Pokemon just so she could watch. Now she has a DS of her own, and she was very excited about the prospect of trading Pokemon for foreign versions. She sent me hunting for some of her favorites, and we did a bunch of trading. It was nerdy girl bonding time.

I also got a kimono review session with my host mother. She had taught me how to dress myself in a kimono and Nagoya style obi before, but I had forgotten a few steps. We practiced for at least an hour, and she even showed me a few different obi tying techniques. The big surprise, however, is that she had a bag full of kimono things that she and her cousin didn't need any more. It included four kimono, three obi, and one nagajuban (under kimono). That inspired me to go shopping the next day for more kimono accessories to complete my kimono kit. It is amazing just how many tiny details go into wearing a kimono. There are so many pieces that you never see, used simple to make the garment look perfect and stay that way. The next day, we biked to a kaitenzushi (conveyor belt sushi) restaurant for lunch. I must have had a silly grin on my face the entire time as I watched little plates of sushi and cake chug past, occasionally snatching one that looked tasty. From there, we said our goodbyes and I headed for Kyoto.

Kyoto is, as of yet, my favorite city in the world. That I hadn't been there yet in this trip was bugging me, so I finally took my chance. I reserved places to stay for two nights and made this my base of operations for three days. I started by going to Fushimi Inori Shrine in southern Kyoto. It is famous for its seemingly endless tunnels of brilliant red-orange torii gates. If you have see “Memoirs of a Geisha” you will have seen those torii in a brief scene where the main character is racing through them.

I then spent the evening in Gion, also famous from that movie, as it is the Geisha district itself. I, however, was there for the used kimono shops. I found good deals on the pieces I still needed to complete my kimono kit, while perplexing many shop workers by going straight for the undergarments instead of the kimonos. It's fun to shop for these kind of things, because the women working there are generally delighted to discover that a young, foreign girl is seriously interested in the art of kimono.

My hotel was the Kyoto Capsule Ryoukan. It wasn't my first choice, but was the only place I could find on short notice. However, it turned out to be perfect for my needs. One room had eight or ten bunk bed-like capsules. Each had a locker for belongings, and the bed itself had a blind that you could snap down for privacy. Inside the bed capsules were TVs, internet and plug hook-ups, as well as a built-in alarm clock. It was incredibly clean and comfortable. Close to the Kyoto station for convenience, I highly recommend it for solo travelers. It is also one of the least expensive places to stay in the Kyoto area.

Today, my adventures took me into Shiga-ken to the shores of Lake Biwa and the Hikone Castle. As a castle-lover and a lake-lover, I've been curious about Hikone-jo for a while. It was a drizzly day, but I still had a good time. I thought I would do a proper hanami and have lunch under the blooming sakura flowers, so I bought a bentou (lunch box) and found myself a nice rock to sit on in the castle gardens. Propping up my umbrella underneath the mostly un-bloomed buds, I had my lunch. I'm sure several people laughed a the silly foreigner, but I enjoyed myself. The great thing about bud-viewing on a rainy day, is that you have the whole picnic to yourself.

The castle itself is the smallest I have seen so far, but it was still very beautiful. There was a lovely plum orchard that was still in bloom, and a number of pretty water birds in the moat. The top of the castle tower provided a great (though misty) view of Biwako and the surrounding area. It is perched on a high hill rising out of the plains right on the shores of Lake Biwa. If I were a feudal lord, I would have put my castle right there too.

I only have a few more days left in Kansai before I head up to Tokyo on Monday night, and I plan to make the most of them. This time in Japan really has cemented my love for the country. It will be hard for me to leave. Though, I am seriously considering graduate school in Japan once I am finished with my Shansi Fellowship in India.

Trapsing Around China

2010-03-27T06:28:00.001-07:00

Because of the Great Firewall of China, I was unable to post my blog while in the country, and then I had trouble finding a plug adapter in Japan. I apologize for the lateness of this entry.

James met me at the Beijing airport when I arrived and I spent two days there with him before heading to Taigu, where he and several other Shansi Fellows teach. We went to the Forbidden City and Ho Hi on one day. The Forbidden City is right across from Tienanmen Square, so I caught a glimpse of that as well. The Forbidden City itself was impressively huge, but not so impressive as many movies make it out to be (ie- Mulan). I admit I was a bit disappointed. That isn't to say that it wasn't awesome anyway. From there, we walked down some back streets of preserved houses from before the Cultural Revolution to Ho Hi. As I understand it, Ho Hi is a small district of very old buildings around a lake. It was lovely, but we only got to walk through it, as we were in a bit of a hurry. The following day, I followed James on a few errands, and in doing, experienced more of Beijing.

On Sunday, I attended my first church service in a long time. The music was great and the sermon was fantastic. It was a really refreshing experience. However, one thing gnawed at me. We had to show our IDs at the door to prove that we were foreigners. It is illegal for Chinese nationals to attend the service. After church that day, we took an express train to Taiuen, the provincial capital of Shanxi, and then took a car to Taigu.

My time in Taigu was plentifully relaxing. After several busy and even stressful months, I enjoyed the peace. I attended several English classes during my time there for use in other Shansi teachers' lessons. It gave me lots of ideas for activities to take back to India with me and made me excited to start teaching again.

In the evenings, we always go out for dinner and usually find some reason to party. There have been birthdays, open mic nights, and dance parties. With four Shansi fellows and three more foreign teachers, there is an instant party when you get them all together.

The food in the area was amazing. I always liked Chinese food back in the US, but this is far better and, usually, quite different. There are many stews, soups, dumplings, and noodles. Vinegar is a big part of the experience here. If it's not already in the dishes, people will dip their food in some. It took some getting used to, but now I think it has grown on me.

I spent most of my time relaxing and hanging out, but I did take a few touristy adventures with some of the others there. First, we went to Ping Yao, a short train ride from Taigu. Ping Yao is one of the best, if not the best, preserved ancient city in China. While it has become very touristy within the walls, it still somewhat functions as a town with houses and businesses. One ticket can get you into any of the many temples, museums, and mansions all around the city. It is beautiful and definitely a site worth seeing. The day we went, however, was one of the coldest I have experienced since leaving Minnesota. So, we spent much of the day hopping restaurants and tea shops. I had my first hamburger in months, and somehow it wasn't as exciting as I thought it would be.

Taiyuen is the nearest large city to Taigu, and errands took all of us there on one Thursday evening. We found an Indian restaurant there and had dinner. The whole experience made me laugh and long to be back in India all at once. For one, the ambiance was very glitzy. I think it was trying to look like some raja's palace. The staff all wore jazzed up salwar kameez, made of fabrics you would never see on clothing in India. The food itself was tasty, but not quite Indian. Everything was very gravy-heavy, even aloo gobi, which is a usually a pretty dry vegetable dish. The existence of a beef section on the menu also made me laugh. Their breads were pretty good, but all heavy like a pizza crust, not thin and fluffy like a good roti. It was nice to have a little taste of home, though.

Another outing was to the Kung Shanxi house in Taigu. Mr. Kung is an important figure in the history of the Oberlin Shansi Memorial Foundation, from which I am a fellow. Before there were Shansi teachers in China, Oberlin sent missionaries and built a hospital. Those missionaries were killed during the Boxer Rebellion, and their families started the foundation that is now sponsoring me in India. Kung's mother was treated in that hospital and he grew up around the missionaries, then attended Oberlin College. He returned, was a successful businessman, and became the richest man in China. He then founded the Shanxi Agricultural School, and the partnership between it and Oberlin began that still continues today in our four fellows.

The house itself was not his only house by any means, but as a house in his home town, it has special importance. It contains several museum-like galleries of different currencies from around China, through history, and even around the world, as well as artifacts and photos from prominent members of his family. There were no English explanations anywhere, so I had to rely on Anne and her Chinese tutor for explanations. It was especially fun to see the little room connected to Oberlin Shansi. There were pictures of the founders of the Memorial Foundation and the first four Shansi fellows to China. It made me feel, once again, that I was part of something much bigger than just Jagori.

On my last night with them, we all went into Taiyuen for a basketball game. The American star Marbury was playing with the local Shanxi team for a short period of time while selling shoes. None of us particularly liked Marbury, but we still wanted to see him in his last game in China anyway. It was an exciting game and the Shanxi team won. As a sizable group of foreigners in the second row by one of the baskets, we got some attention ourselves. We started the wave successfully several times, cheered, chanted, and made lots of noise. During half time and after the game, a number of reporters came over and wanted to talk. In one article the next day, we were called “the driving force of the game.” More simply stated, we were loud and excited.

After almost two weeks in Taigu, it was hard to leave. I really enjoyed the people and the atmosphere there. James went with me back to Beijing on another errand he had and passed me off to Mia, yet another Shansi fellow.

I only had a few days with Mia, but we made the best of it. She took me to a few fun neighborhoods in Bejing where we walked, window shopped, looked for fabric, and ate. We went to a Peking Opera show together as well. It was really fascinating with great costumes and an interesting plot. The singing style, warbly and more straight-tone than Western opera, took some getting used to, but I liked it by the end. The subtitles certainly helped, but were frequently too verbose to make any sense. My one complaint is that this particular play was really lacking in acrobatics.

I also attended one of Mia's classes. One particular group of her students is preparing to go to Nepal to teach Chinese. Since there is not a Nepali class at their university, they are taking English instead. I commandeered the class for an afternoon and taught them Devanagari script, the writing system for Hindi, Nepali, and a number of other South Asian languages. It was exciting to see all of them so excited to learn it, something that would be very useful to them in the not so far future.

After a much-delayed flight, I arrived in Japan. I have been staying near Kobe with my friends the Andos for about a week and a half now. It has been a good time with lots more relaxing, eating, and the added bonus of plenty of tea. I will be writing more about my adventures here in my next blog entry.

Five days in Bangkok

2010-02-24T01:33:00.000-08:00

My two month voyage has begun. After spending a few days in Delhi in which I had planned to get my China visa (but the visa center was closed for the week), I flew out to Thailand. Bangkok, on the whole, is a very nice city. The people are friendly, it's clean, orderly, the food is good, but the weather is hot already at this time of year.

I arrived very early in the morning and took an airport bus into the city. I decided to walk to my hotel, but was intercepted by a man claiming to be a teacher saying that it was a holiday and my hostel would be close until 3:00. Now, that should have set off some warning bells, but I was tired. He suggested I see a few temples (wats) where special things were going on and go shopping. He then flagged down a tuk-tuk (auto rickshaw) and put me inside for a 10 bat 'tour'. At first, it was a lot of fun seeing the temples, but my driver got impatient if I spent too long at any temple. Then he took me to several expensive tailor and jewelry shops before he would take me to my hotel. I now understand that he was hoping to earn a commission off of any purchases I made. At the last stop, I bought a couple of really cheap souvenirs. My driver was disappointed, but he finally took me to my hotel.

After that morning-long adventure, I finally arrived at the hotel of my choice: Shanti Lodge. It was inexpensive, but clean and had everything I could ask for. They did my laundry, took my visa application to the Chinese embassy, arranged for an in-house Thai herbal massage, and had a fantastic restaurant with mostly organic food. Not to mention, the ambiance was great. They had hostel rooms as well as dorm-style rooms, while the bathroom facilitates on the first floor were shared. The one down-side is that it's pretty out of the way, close to the river, so it took considerable time (and more money) to get between Shanti lodge and any of the attractions of Bangkok. On the whole, I would highly recommend it to other travelers looking for something inexpensive and still classy.

On my second day in the City I headed for the Dusit Zoo. It was packed with people celebrating some sort of special day. They all had picnic mats spread out everywhere. I had to step over picnickers time and time again to get good looks at birds and monkeys. One of the most interesting things about this zoo is that most of the animals were local to South East Asia and not necessarily what you would see in other zoos. Of course they had the classics like giraffes and giant tortoises as well.

After the zoo I went to Siam Square, the center of Bangkok, for some shopping. Many huge high-rise malls span the area with all sorts of goods and restaurants. It was a nice escape from the intense humidity and heat.

The following day I headed for the Grand Palace and the Temple of the Emerald Buddha complex. I was totally stunned by the grandeur and beauty of it all. The temple complex was almost unreal. Every structure was covered in colorful ceramic or mirrored tials in mosaic patterns, painted with gold, or covered in stunning murals that too had elements of gold leafing. With all that light reflecting dazzlingly off of all of the buildings, it's no wonder I got a bit sunburned. The Emerald Buddha itself is a solid jade statue enshrined in the largest of the buildings. It has three different outfits made of gold, one for each of the seasons. I believe it is the holiest statue of Buddha in Thailand. What struck me as interesting, however, is that all of the murals inside the wall around the complex were of the Ramayana, an Indian epic of Hindu origins. The rest of the Grand Palace complex, while grand, paled by comparison. It was still beautifully painted, but paled in comparison to the glittering temple buildings.

From there I ventured on to Wat Pho, famous as the Temple of the Reclining Buddha. The reclining Buddha itself was stunning. The gilded statue was at least as big as my house back in Minnesota. While I had heard it was big, I wasn't prepared for something of that size. The rest of the Wat Pho complex was also very nice, but nothing compared to that huge Buddha. Needing a break from the heat, I returned to Siam Square and explored a different mall. I wound up at the nicest book store I had seen in the last six months and at an IMAX theater watching “Avatar.”

The next day I slept in and hung around Shanti lodge for a while. At my parents' email urging, I went for an herbal Thai massage. I have had a few regular massages in the US before, but this was nothing like any of them. I laid on a mattress on the floor, fully clothed, while a tiny Thai woman worked on me. She used her forearms, elbows, knees, and even feet to massage me. At one point, she stood on me. Thai massage includes a good deal of applying pressure for long periods of time to one spot and plenty of assisted stretching. The woman also spent over half of the time working on my legs and feet, which differs from any Western massage I have had before.

In the evening, I headed for the Suan Lam Night Market. While I did a bit of shopping, I was mainly there for the Joe Louis puppet theater. The market itself didn't begin to open until 5:00 PM, and wasn't fully rolling until 6:00. It was mostly stocked with souvenirs of various qualities. Bangkok is full of tourists, but I was surprised by how many Japanese tourists were at the night market. Most of the shopkeepers spoke better Japanese than Hindi.

The puppet show wasn't quite what I expected. It told the history of this particular style of Thai puppetry through combination of pantomime drama with narration and example excerpts from several puppet dramas. The puppetry sections were stunning. It takes three people to operate one puppet. One controls the movements of the feet while the other two control one hand each, attached to a long pole. The two hand operators trade off who supports the torso of the puppet and controls the head. Meanwhile, all three create a sort of train beneath the puppet, mimicking its foot, body, and head movements in a coordinated dance. Puppeteers have to be trained in classical dancing as well as how to manipulate a puppet together.

The creative surprises at the end of the show were a dance routine between two men, one dressed as a puppet with poles attached to his wrists that his 'puppeteer' held on to. Following that, a trio of puppeteers had a Michel Jackson puppet that did a dance with many of his signature moves. On the whole, it was a great experience.

On my last half-day in Thailand, I went to a few museums. First, I visited the Kamtieng House, a traditional house of the Lanna people with a small but interesting museum about their historical lifestyle. From there, I went to the National Museum, which was a complex of buildings that had previously belonged to the Royal Family. There was a section on the history of Thailand and several galleries of artifacts, sculptures, and other objects. I was disappointed to see very few paintings, but it seems Thai art focused on other mediums.

I flew out of Bankok that evening and spent the night in the Kuala Lampur airport in Malaysia on a ten-hour layover. Along with a handful of other travelers, I curled up on a bench in a secluded nook of the airport and slept for a few hours while the airport was quiet. In the morning, I boarded my flight for Beijing.

Thailand, on the whole, was a lovely country to visit. It was clean, modern, and relatively calm compared to the chaos of India. The people are friendly and helpful, and there are plenty of things to do. Thailand itself is a monarchy, and that is not something you are likely to forget while there. People speak lovingly of their king, and there are huge pictures of him, frequently with the queen, all over Bangkok. From what I read at the museum, people have good reason to adore him, as he has a strong humanitarian agenda. Before both “Avatar” at the movie theater and the puppet show, everyone had to stand and listen to the National Anthem while a montage of pictures of the king and other patriotic sights slid across the screen. His palace itself is in the center of Bangkok in plain view. Every single taxi driver I had always made some gesture of respect as he passed it.

To those who would like to visit Bangkok, I would make this word of caution. Avoid tuk-tuks. They generally want to work you into a scam like I had or will charge you, as a foreigner, an exorbitant rate. Taxis have a meter and are generally cheaper than tuk-tuks if you can convince your driver to use it. If not, you can always get out of the car and find another taxi, something I had to do once.

I am safely in Beijing, China now, spending a few days here with James, another Shansi fellow, before we head back to Taigu where he and three other fellows teach. I hope I can get this posted in a timely manner. Blogspot is behind the Great Firewall of China, to my surprise, so I will have to find someone to post it for me. Stay tuned for stories of adventures in China.

Life in Winter

2010-02-11T01:42:00.000-08:00

I apologize for such a long time between entries lately. Between teaching two different classes, planning for my two-month trip, and entertaining visitors I have been plenty busy.

Phillip, the Austrian volunteer at Nishta that has been here since before I arrived finished his one year term and has been replaced by Andreas. Andreas is a fun character and just out of high school. At any given time, Nishta has one Austrian young man serving his year of social service. Austrian men have to give two years of military service or one year of social service, and Nishta offers an international site for men who want an alternative to the army.

As to visitors, Anya's younger sister Danika has been here for the last month or so, but will be leaving within the week. Kelly, the Madurai Shansi fellow, passed through for a few days as well. Most recently, Anne and Daniel, two of the Taigu Shansi fellows, have been up here for a few days. It's great to see so many Shansi fellows up here. Though, I am finding that whenever there are guests, I always wind up eating a lot. The social life here consists mostly of going out to eat in McLeod Ganj or making huge meals together. It's fun, and we stay well fed.

Lately, there has been something of a drought in the area. Everyone I knew spent at least a few days without water. While the weather was beautiful, farmers and families were worried. My landlady, Dr. Kusum, told me that everyone was performing extra worship and prayers for rain. Just a few days ago, the winter rains came at last. While I would prefer nicer weather than very chilly and wet, I'm glad for what this means for the area. So, add a few more sweaters to my layers and never leave the house without an umbrella.

One other negative side effect of lots of cold rain like this is that many of my students travel a significant distance to get to the Knowledge Center. When the weather is bad, they will stay at home. It makes the class move a lot more slowly when I have to re-teach the same lessons the next day to the half of the class that missed it the first time.

Today it slushed, something between snow and sleet. It was very exciting. Everyone looked at me as if I was crazy for walking out in it, but I was rewarded for my hike up to TARA Center with a hot cup of chai. Once home, I collected what 'snow' I could find on my porch and made snow balls. I threw them around at nothing in particular. It was incredibly satisfying. I am looking forward to real snow in Taigu.

Last week we had a full youth team meeting, where many important things were hashed out. After the meeting, I was struck by Jagori living up to its ideal of teamwork and no hierarchy. Before we broke for lunch, we had to assist in the construction process by moving sticks and wood from the construction site to a brush pile in the back of the center. After a lot of collecting and hauling, we then moved on to transporting bricks. All twenty-something of us formed a line from the pile to where the bricks needed to be and passed them along until all had been moved. Only a half hour or so of group work, I'm sure, really sped up the process for the construction workers. Things change so quickly at TARA Center that I'm sure I will be stunned by how different it looks when I return in two weeks.

Holiday Trip, Part 1

2010-01-23T03:12:00.001-08:00

Having lived in Rakkar village up in Himachal Pradesh for four months, my concept of India was high mountains and peaceful farmland. Traveling down into other parts of the country shattered that vision. India is far vaster and diverse that I even now can comprehend. On top of that, there are a lot of people in this country. A lot.

The last time I was in Delhi, for less than 24 hours, I was too jet lagged to be overwhelmed. Anya and I traveled down to Delhi to meet up with her sister and two friends. This time, I was plenty alert. The thing about India I am beginning to realize is that it almost always overloads the senses; strong smells, loud noises, flavors from the very spicy to the sickeningly sweet, plenty of strange things to step in the texture of which you'd rather not think about, and so much activity to watch that your brain is almost on overload. That is, until you get used to it, which I'm sure comes after a while.

Anya and I spent our day in Delhi going to the Red Fort and visiting with our friend Sufi, who used to live and work up near McLeod Ganj. The Red Fort was the palace of several Mughal Kings that reigned from Delhi. During the British Raj, the British used it as its military and administrative headquarters. It was also from this place that Nehru gave his famous speech on the midnight of India's independence from Great Britain. Drawn by this kind of history, I asked Anya if we could go there in the morning.

The Red Fort is a vast complex of wide lawns, buildings, and open air audience chambers. Within its walls are also a number of barracks and other buildings of British construction. The private audience chamber was one of the most beautiful parts of it. Carved all out of white marble, it had several delicately carved latticeworks as well as semi precious stones inlaid into the pillars in patterns of flowers and trees.

What struck me most about the fort, however, were the water channels that ran everywhere through it. The channels and ponds were empty when we went, but the amount of water they must have once held was staggering. It must have provided effective cooling for the hot summer months.

With Sufi, Anya and I went to see a pottery exhibit at the Crafts Museum. There were many other exhibits we did not get to see, having arrived late in the afternoon. It is something I would highly recommend to visitors of Delhi.

Anya's sister Danika and her friend Judy arrived in Delhi at around midnight that night. Mindy was less lucky, having gotten caught by a blizzard at her layover, and arrived closer to 6:00 am. Knowing that they would be tired, we planned to depart from Delhi in the early afternoon and arrive in Aghra in time to see the Taj Mahal just before it closed.

One lesson we learned on this trip is that you can't count on things going as planned in India. Our train arrived on time but lazed its way across the countryside. We arrived nearly two hours later than planned. The sun had already set. We hopped in a taxi and said, “Take us to the Taj! Quickly!” They informed us that, unfortunately, the gates had already closed, although there were still people inside. As we were leaving on another train that night, we opted to go to a roof top restaurant to try to catch a glimpse of it that way instead. All we could see in the thickening twilight was a dim silhouette of the Taj Mahal's famous dome and four minerettes. We did, however, run into a familiar face at that restaurant. A Swedish girl we knew who had been volunteering at the Tibetan Settlement Office in McLeod Ganj happened to be staying in that hotel on her way through. It certainly is a small world.

That night we took a night train to Bhopal. Sleeper class in trains consists of bunks three high in two rows. The middle one can flip down to allow the lower bunk to be used as a bench during the day. All five of us were prepared with cotton sleeping bags we had stitched just for that purpose. It is a much cleaner way to sleep, as no sheets are provided, and one can put your valuables at the bottom of the bag and out of reach. Admittedly, it was a cold night and I didn't sleep much. The chai sellers that walked up and down the train cars announcing their wears through the early morning didn't help either.

Bhopal was a very interesting place to visit. Our entire day was spent at the Museum of Man. The Museum complex was acres upon acres of rolling land, centered on the oldest (I think) prehistoric cave paintings in India. There were a whole string of them in the rocks on top of a ridge. Although the signs promised 21 different sites, the path grew too overgrown about half way. Even still, the ones we saw were spectacular paintings of people and animals.

Also in the Museum of Man were numerous replica villages of different regions in India. I believe they had transported and rebuilt all of the houses on their land. There was also an interesting out door exhibit of “primitive gadgets,” including flour grinders and water wheels. The centerpiece of the complex was a sprawling museum building. It briefly discussed the evolution of humans, particularly with regard to India. The rest of the museum was dedicated to discussing and displaying artifacts from various adivasi (tribal) peoples in India. Everything from replica houses, art, tools, and clothing was on display with somewhat idealistic descriptions of their life styles. I was surprised to see the Gaddi people on display there. It hadn't occurred to me that one of the major ethnic groups represented at Jagori Grameen was classified as tribal. My Hindi tutor, for example, is Gaddi. Apparently, in other parts of the country and deeper in the mountains they are less assimilated into main stream society.

There was more to see in the complex than we could manage in only one day. I would willingly go back again to see more of it. That night, we again boarded a night train and headed for Jalgaon. We arrived at around 2 am, but the manager of our hotel waited up for us. After pitching and convincing us to switch into a bigger room, we slept the rest of the night. Although I was a bit perturbed to be upgraded to a more expensive room, the hot shower I had the next morning was beautiful. It was the first shower I had had since the morning I first arrived in Delhi in late August, staying at Abha's house.

Close to Jalgaon are the Ajunta Caves. The caves, carved in the cliffs in a bend of a deep river gorge, were all Buddhist monasteries or worship halls. They date, I believe, from 200 AD to nearly 700 AD. Some were unfinished while most were intricately carved and even painted. Cut straight into the rock wall, some were at least as big as the whole house that my apartment was in. Each of the monasteries had at least one massive seated Buddha statue carved into the rock at the back, and perhaps many more. The worship halls tended to feature huge vaulted ceilings and a dome shaped stupa. In early Buddhism, the Buddha was not represented by a person but by footprints or a stupa. In the later caves, the stupas were more intricate and even had a figure of Buddha carved into them as well.

That night we intended to take yet another night train out (much to the grumblings of our party. Anya and I apologized later.). However, while we made it off the wait list the night before, we didn't in Jalgaon. There were a number of private bus companies up the street our hotel was on, so we booked a sleeper bus to Pune. Upon boarding this bus, we discovered not seats but padded bunks on either side of the aisle about the width of twin beds. Anya and I shared a cozy top bunk. I'm sure we were elbowing each other all night long, but we did get some sleep.

The next morning we arrived in Pune and checked into another hotel. Stories of the rest of our travels will have to wait until my next blog entry.

Loree

2010-01-17T04:39:00.002-08:00

I am back from my travels safe and sound in Rakkar. As I go through my travel journal and make sense of its entries, I'll do my best to keep you updated with what is going on in my daily life here.

I am currently teaching another session of beginning English. This time, it is only one afternoon class full of thirteen sharp students. There are six boys and seven girls, most in their mid to late teens. Because I have to do a visa run in late February, I am keeping this to a six week class, meeting four days a week. It already seems easier, having taught once before. The general goals of the class are the same, but I'm reorganizing my syllabus, having learning many lessons in the fall.

This coming week, I will also be starting a basic web design and Photoshop class for Jagori staff. The hope is, once the class is over, Jagori will have a small team of people able to update the web site in my absence.

This Wednesday and Thursday were the holiday of Loree. Loree is the Indian midwinter festival, going by many different names in other parts of the country. Based on a fixed calender that was set thousands of years ago, Loree has migrated away from the actual equinox, so it is celebrated in January today.

In this part of the country, Loree is celebrated with special foods. (There seem to be special foods for everything.) On Wednesday night, families got together and made sweets. The local children appeared to be doing something like caroling, getting sweets at all of their neighbors' houses.

On Thursday, everyone gets together with friends and family to eat kichiri. Kichiri, in general, is a north Indian dish where lentils and rice are cooked together, potentially with other spices and vegetables, in a pressure cooker. This special Loree kichiri had only beans and black lentils in it. Before eating, one is supposed to sprinkle liberal amounts of melted ghee (clarified butter) on top.

I had at least two invites for eating kichiri, but wound up downstairs with my landlady Dr. Kusum and her relatives. She found me and had me promising to come for lunch not five minutes after I sauntered out of bed. It was delicious.

Later this week, I hope to have the first of my travel entries finished. In the mean time, this is a perfect time for you to list yourself as a follower of my blog if you have not already. Once you are a follower, you can add it to any feeds you have set up on your front page, your icon will be proudly displayed to the right of my blog posts, and will generally make this blog look nicer.

Loree

2010-01-17T04:39:00.000-08:00

A visit from a rug vendor

2009-12-19T02:54:00.000-08:00

The other day, I came home from the Knowledge Center to make lunch. I hadn't gotten much farther into preparations beyond chopping vegetables when I heard someone calling, “Didi! Didi!” (Didi means 'older sister' and is used as a general term for young women around my age.) I saw a man half way up the stairs to my balcony. I asked him what was the matter and he responded with a long string of Hindi that I couldn't understand. Finally, after much confusion, he said in English, “You are very beautiful.” Laughing, I thanked him and returned to my kitchen.

A minute later, I heard him call again, “Didi, didi!” This time, he had a huge tapestry rug rolled up over his shoulder. “Very beautiful rug for your room,” he pitched it to me. I have no need of such a rug, nor do I even have space for one the size he had. I was eventually able to convince him of this in broken Hindi and he left me to finish cooking my lunch.

I had a visit from a door-to-door salesman. He must have seen me buying vegetables on the road and suspected that since I was foreign, I was rich. I'm sure it didn't take much asking from my neighbors to figure out exactly where I lived.

I am about to take off on a nearly three week trip around India with Anya, two of her friends, and her sister. Our travel plans include Delhi, Aghra, Jalgoan, Pune, Chennai, and Madurai. I am looking forward to a break and a chance to see more of India. I don't anticipate being able to update this blog while I am traveling, but I promise to bring back lots of interesting stories.

Another Wedding

2009-12-12T01:19:00.001-08:00

Last night, after finishing a late meeting about the web site up at TARA Center, where Jagori Grameen's office is, I discovered that it was already getting dark. Anya had told me many times that it wasn't a good idea to walk home alone after dark down that stretch of road, so I turned on the flashlight feature of my cellphone and hurried down the hill. Not far down, to my surprise, Devika and Gaytri greeted me coming back up the road. (Gaytri is on our agricultural team.) Gaytri's cousin was getting married that night, so she invited me to join her and Devika at the wedding feast.

It wasn't far at all from TARA Center. There must have been several hundred people packed into the courtyards of the housing complex. At the center of it all were the bride and groom. I have only ever been to the second day of a wedding, and then the couple have been out of sight, so this was something new to me. We watched the ceremony progress while waiting for our turn at the dham, the feast.

The couple sat underneath a small sort of tent pavilion made of painted wooden poles and decorated with tinsel, lights, wooden parrots. The bride was dressed in a fancy red and gold saalwar kameez, and her dupata was over her head and face the whole time like a veil. Her husband wore a pink turban, decked out with tinsel, and a paper vest sort of thing over the front of his shirt with even more colorful tinsel.

To my understanding, Indian's love tinsel. It's all over their Hindu shrines as well.

During the portion of the ceremony we watched, there was a sort of puja, worship. The girl's parents held a large conch shell over her head and prayed to the god Shiva while chant singing. All the while, she and her new husband knelt under the tent pavilion.

While we waited for the feast, I wound up sitting among a group of local girls, who struck up a conversation with me in English. Seeing it as a good chance to practice my Hindi, I stubbornly stayed out of my native language. The girls, however, seemed to think I know more Hindi than I do, but on the whole, it was fun to talk and practice with them.

The feast was an excellent one, with some of the best dham food I have had since being here. I'm certainly getting better at eating with my fingers, as I was able to keep up with all of the new courses. After the meal, Gaytri took us into the house to see the bride where she sat surrounded by some women friends or family. She was very pretty but very young.

After having eaten our fill, we all headed home. Devika and I were both glad to have someone to walk home with after dark.

Devika told me that the wedding feast differs greatly around the country. In Delhi, it is usually held in hotels or reception halls on long tables with real plates, rather than on the ground with leaf plates and people serving out of baskets. The food is also very regional, so what I eat up here wouldn't be eaten in Delhi or elsewhere.

Wedding season, in this region, has been going since October but it is now coming to an end. I am told that the weddings going on now are the last, and there won't be any more until this June. I believe that the times of year are designated as auspicious through some kind of astrology. This time of year, you can hardly walk down the road without spotting a tent archway or three that signifies a wedding or hearing the blaring music of a wedding band.

It certainly is exciting, but with wedding season over, things will get much quieter. As an added bonus, all of my coworkers are more likely to be around more regularly and not at some friend or relative's wedding. Things will slowly go back to normal.

Birthday Feast

2009-12-11T02:00:00.000-08:00

Devika's birthday was this week and her parents came up from Delhi to surprise her. They were staying with a friend of theirs that her mother had met at a writing workshop about half an hour from Rakkar.

On the evening of her birthday, we all hopped into her parents' car and drove to the house where they were staying. It was a beautiful place even more out of the way than where we live. They greeted us around a little bonfire where one of the cooks of the house roasted chicken, vegetables, and paneer on kabobs over the open flame. I haven't had meat like that in a long time. It was really wonderful. In the mean time, I snuggled with their 1-month-old puppy. I do miss having clean healthy dogs around that you can pet without fear.

I did discover, however, that when people make lemonade around here, they like to put lots of salt into it. Next time I'll ask for no salt. After we feasted on the kebobs, we were surprised by a soup brought out to us. Then the told us that that was all merely the appetizer. We were invited inside for the real dinner.

There was more food than we could all eat together and it was all wonderful. I know I'm not the only one who stuffed herself just because the food was too good to stop eating. And then, of course, there was cake. Indian cake tends to be drier than American cake, with thick, sweet icing that almost seems like whipped cream. Different but delicious.

It was wonderful to be able to meet Devika's parents. They have extended an invitation to us to visit them when we are down in Delhi any time.

Eating

2009-12-03T22:15:00.001-08:00

I was recently asked, “Do you get to eat Indian food all the time?” The answer to that is that I do as long as I learn to cook it myself. The truth of the situation is that there are essentially no restaurants in Rakkar and Sidhbari. Those that there are only serve chow mein and momos, the Tibetan name for Chinese dumplings. (A side note- fans of “Avatar: The Last Air Bender,” I would bet that those dumplings are where the name for the lemur came from.) The Knowledge Center is only a minute down the road from my house, so I have the luxury of eating at home for all of my meals if I am around.

For the first two or three months, there was really one dish that I knew how to make, and I made it several times a week with different variations. This is called subji (literally meaning vegetables). Around here, it is usually eating with a plain flour and water flat bread called roti. I usually have it with basmati rice instead. A few miserably failed attempts at roti early on discouraged me. As I am gaining more culinary bravery, I think I might try again, perhaps with supervision.

To give you an idea of what I have been eating, and to give you a chance to eat like I do, here's how I made subji. This recipe is based on what Anya taught me early on and my own experimentation. This serves two. You can do this with really any kind of vegetable. I use whatever is in season at the local stand. You can do just one vegetable or combine different types together. For my portions, a small to medium head of cauliflower or cabbage, two medium eggplants, or the equivalent is a good amount. I have done this with green beans, peas, squash, potatoes, carrots, and other vegetables as well. All measurements are approximate as I just use plain kitchen spoons to measure.

Basic Subji:
1 small tomato, diced
1 small onion, diced
2-3 cloves of garlic, minced
3 cardiumum seeds
1 tbs. cumin seeds*
1 tsp. garm masala**
1 tsp. salt
a pinch of red chili powder to taste
½ tsp. Turmeric
vegetable(s) of choice

1.The basic idea of Indian cooking is to start with spices in the oil before adding other ingredients. As such, put some oil (I use soy oil or mustard oil) in a wok and swirl to coat the sides. Once it is heated, add the cumin seeds and cardiumum seeds until they begin to crackle.
2.Then add the onion and garlic and fry until it begins to turn brown. Add the tomato and fry until the mixture begins to become a paste.
3.Add the remaining spices and stir them in. Add the vegetables with about a cup of water. Stir them around until coated. Reduce heat, cover, and let simmer until the vegetables are soft. Remove the lid and let the remaining water boil off. Serve hot with rice or roti.

* If you only have cumin powder, add this with the spices later on.
** garm masala is a common spice blend found in Northern India. You might be able to find this in the Asian food section of your grocery store or at an Asian market. Otherwise, you could duplicate this by combining the spices yourself.

Another staple of the north Indian diet is daal, lentils. At first, I didn't like daal very much, but when Kelly visited us in November, she introduced me to the secret ingredient she had discovered: soy sauce. I can't pretend that this is authentic daal, but it's how I like to make it.

A pressure cooker is a staple cooking tool here for everything from potatoes to rice to beans. Lentils are no exception. There are ways to make lentils without a pressure cooker, but it will take much longer. There are many types of lentils. I use the smallest yellow kind. As a rule, the smaller the grain, the shorter cooking time it takes. Without a pressure cooker, soak the lentils for two hours or so, then boil for a long time, covered, until they're tender. This again, serves two.

Daal:
½ cup lentils
1 small tomato, diced
½ small onion, diced
3-5 cloves of garlic, minced
1 tbs. mustard seeds
½ tsp. turmeric
2 tbs. Salt
1 tsp. garm masala
½ cup soy sauce (I've never measured it, this is just a guess at how much I pour in. It may be more.)
(Optional: some small vegetables like chopped green beans, corn, peas, or Japanese eggplant)

1.Cook the lentils. Put in a pressure cooker with 1 cup of water. For tiny daal, eight whistles should be enough. For average and larger daal, you will need between twelve and fourteen whistles.
2.In a wok, heat oil (soy oil works very well) and add mustard seeds, frying until they crackle. Add the garlic and onions until they begin to turn pink, then add the tomatoes and other vegetables, if any. Add the spices and mix thoroughly.
3.Add the lentils with 1 ½ cups of water. Mix it in with the other ingredients, then add the soy sauce. Reduce heat and cover for a few minutes until vegetables are tender. Uncover and boil off the remaining water. Serve with rice or roti.

As I mentioned, I have recently become more culinarily adventurous, but these two dishes still remain staples for me.

Last night, I wound up in McLeod Ganj for dinner with Anya. As we were both craving miso soup, we headed to my personal favorite restaurant, Lung Ta, the Japanese restaurant. The food is entirely vegetarian and very authentic, plus their service is very fast. As we settled into one of the corner tables where you sit on the floor on cushions Japanese style, we started to notice that we understood the language that the group of tourists was speaking next to us: Japanese.

We half-eavesdropped for most of the meal, both lamenting how our Japanese has gotten weaker since coming here and colored with Hindi words. By the end of the meal we worked up our courage and said hello to the tourists. We had a brief conversation in Japanese with them, and I only slipped into Hindi a couple of times. My Japanese came back pretty quickly, but for Anya who hasn't used it for nearly a year, she had a harder time. It was fun to practice as well as remind myself that I'm not a language dunce. It is frustrating after being good at a language to start over completely. Admittedly, I don't understand much Hindi in conversation around here, but I get by.

A recent discovery of mine, thanks to the shopping genius of Sonia, is the Monday Market in Dharmsala. Most stores are closed on Monday in Dharmsala. However, lots of private used and new clothing sellers line the street with tables or tarps, piled with clothes. The shoppers become a traffic hazard as they dart across the street looking for the best deals. As I somehow managed to get to India without any sweaters, that was my mission. I picked up one for 100 rupees and another for only 50 rupees. I passed a table full of sweatpants, and picked up a pair for 50 rupees, figuring they would make good pajamas when it gets colder. For under $4, I am now much better outfitted for winter.

The sweatpants had a tag still on them from Goodwill in the USA. Just how they got from Goodwill to Dharmshala, I will never know, but they would have cost me $4.50 in the US by that tag. I think I got a good deal.

An Indian Thanksgiving

2009-12-01T01:47:00.000-08:00

I apologize for not updating lately. Life has been busy with finishing up my English class, hanging out with Kelly (the Shansi fellow in Madurai who was up to visit for over half of the month), and not to mention participating in NaNoWriMo.

Last Thursday was Thanksgiving. That morning, some of us foreigners got talking and decided to arrange a Thanksgiving feast. With lots of confusion in between, Roni, Anya, Druve, Sonia, Brian, and I wound up going up to McLeod Ganj for dinner. Although over half of the group was vegetarian, both Brian and I thought it would hardly be Thanksgiving without some bird to eat. So, we went to the Korean restaurant and had sweet and sour chicken, among other things. It was a fantastic feast by a roaring fire in the fireplace.

After dinner, we stopped at the Japanese restaurant for lemon squares, then continued to Nick's Italian Kitchen for our pie. We wound up having cake or brownies and ice cream. Having stuffed ourselves silly, we went home satisfied.

Now that I have been here for three months, I am beginning to be a recognizable part of village life, I think. The other day, when I wasn't feeling so confident about my Hindi, I wanted to take two sets of fabric to the Royal Tailor to get new winter weight suits. I walked part way up the driveway, looked inside, and thought I didn't see the tailor, so I went on my way. I wound up doing this about two or three times over the course of the day.

The next day, I ran into the tailor by my house, asking why I hadn't come in the day before. I told him that I didn't see anyone there, but promised to stop by later that day. I did, handed over my fabric, and got my measurements taken again. They told me it would be done in about two or three weeks.

A few days later when I was walking home from Norbalinka where I had had breakfast with Devika and Roni, I ran into the tailor and his assistant going the other way. He greeted me with a respectful, “Namaskar Jenna,” and told me that because they were going somewhere in mid-December, they decided to get my suits done before the go. They gave me a new date a full ten days earlier than they originally planned. One thing that does amaze me is how well tailors keep track of dates. So, I'm looking forward to picking up my new suits on Thursday afternoon. This does mean that I need to get to work on hemming my dupata (scarves).

Another day, when I was walking back from Nishta, the school day was just finishing. Many of the children I passed practiced their, “Hello. How are you?” on me, but one little boy, who must have been eight or ten years old, tried to follow me very closely. That I walk very quickly for my height, and that he was half my size made this fact pretty obvious. He would scurry up beside me on one side of the road, fall behind, and then scurry up on my other side. Finally, I asked him his name and slowed my pace. We had a short conversation about where each other lived and what we did. It motivated me to go right home and study more Hindi.

Winter Setting In

2009-11-10T21:46:00.001-08:00

The weather has taken a turn for the colder here as winter sets in. While everyone reassures me that I won't wake up to snow on my front porch, it is still significantly colder; cold enough to make me want to wear lots of layers and stay wrapped in my blankets in bed. Houses here don't have central heating or insulation, so your warmth is what you wear. My house has mud on the inner walls, so that helps some, but none of my windows really seal and my ceiling has no insulation at all.

Coming from Minnesota, I can deal with cold as I know how to dress for it, however, even there, heating provides some relief from the chill. I'm toying with the idea of getting a space heater for my room when it gets even colder. My landlady stopped up this morning to tell me that she's going to get me a hot water bottle to put under my covers at night to keep me even warmer. This time of year, people drink a lot of chai too (although it seems like everyone is always drinking chai no matter what time of year it is).

I was also interested to discover that, since most people prefer wearing sandals here, socks with sandals are not a fashion fau pas as they would be in the Unite States. In fact, everyone does it. That way, you can show off your lovely socks to everyone. They even make socks specially for thong sandals with the big toe separate from the rest, much like tabi socks in Japan.

One thing that continually throws me for a loop is that, although winter is setting in, there are certain things that are coming into season. At least one type of tree is blossoming right now and people are planting new crops in their fields. I’ll need to get used to plant life still existing in winter.

Now that my Hindi lessons have fallen into a rhythm, I figure now is a good time to talk about a little what they are like. Our tutor is a girl named Indu, who is in her late teens. Anya knew of her because her father is a gardener in Didipur. She is very bright and wanted to go to college but couldn't because she was needed to help at home and in the fields.

Anya and I meet with Indu twice a week. Our lessons usually consist of four parts. First, she looks at the sentences we have written for homework since the last lesson and goes over any issues we have. Next, we usually do a reading from one of our books. Since Anya and I are different levels, she uses and intermediate reader (by Usha R. Jain) and I just use the Hindi dialogue textbook from SASLI's second year Hindi class. We trade off week by week which readings we actually do in our lesson, though we both are practicing reading outside of class. Then, for listening and spelling practice, Indu goes through the reading and finds words we had trouble with, and we have a sort of spelling test. I'm slowly getting better at hearing the difference between long and short vowels and aspirate and unaspirated consonants. Finally, we have conversation practice. Sometimes Indu gives us a topic or situation and sometimes we just pick our own.

After our Hindi lesson is done, we switch over to English and tutor Indu in English. She is an eager student and probably does her homework better than all but a few of the students in my classes.

Granted, I know I could be a better Hindi student. It's easier to study daily when you have class daily, but I find my studying slipping off at the end of the day. I go to bed telling myself, I'll study more tomorrow. That's certainly something I need to work more on.

Wedding Feast

2009-11-06T02:56:00.001-08:00

On Thursday I attended my first Indian wedding. Granted, we weren't there for the whole thing, but I got to experience a part of it. Weddings around here, to my understanding, are at least a three day process. There is an evening for the women to put henna on their hands. There is the wedding ceremony, and then the following day, there is the feast and more celebration. What we attended was the dham, the feast.

Somehow, I knew people on both sides of the marriage. The bride was the daughter of Dr. Barbara's cook and the groom was the brother of Phillip's landlord, who attended our combined birthday party and invited everyone there to the marriage. We, however, didn't get to see the bride and groom themselves.

Anya, Kelly, and I, dressed in our finest suits, trekked across several fields, managing to pick up an escort of all three Nishta dogs on our way, before we reached the wedding. When we arrived, the feast had already started, and what I saw was much like the village feast of earlier this fall. Sitting on long mats on the ground with leaf plates in front of them were wedding guests. People with baskets and bowls of food ran up and down the aisles between the plates and dumped food onto each plate as they passed.

Here, odd numbers are auspicious, so wedding feasts usually have either five or seven courses. Likewise, when we gave our offering envelope, more or less to pay for the food, we gave 151 rupees between us. Giving 150 would have been back luck.

Everyone was wearing beautiful clothing, though there were no saris even there. It was fun to look at what everyone had chosen to wear to the celebration. The father of the bride wore a bright red scarf tied in a sort of turban on his head.

There was not enough room for everyone to eat at once, so as soon as one group had eaten it's seven courses, they would throw out their leaf plates, wash their hands with whatever water was left in their cups (this is a finger food occasion), and then the next group would flood onto the area and find a seat.

While people were eating, women from the wedding party would pass out little bags of bangles to random guests. I think this is another auspicious thing to do.

After the feast, we sat in the shade for a a while, then went up to Phillip's apartment for coffee before heading back home.

a little bit of excitement

2009-11-02T02:07:00.000-08:00

There has been quite a bit of excitement around here lately. First of all, my class has started up again. Thanks to a number of holidays and confusion around their teachers disappearing to Kashmir, I had incredibly patchy attendance from all of my students. Most of them missed taking the midterm test. Once I came back, I hoped that things would straighten themselves out, but there were still rampant absences. Thankfully, I have all of their phone numbers, so I send all of them text messages reminding them to show up to class this last Saturday. Even still, there were some people missing, but today the last of them came back again. It's a relief to know that my classes will start running normally again.

Secondly, Kelly, the Shansi fellow in Madurai, came up to visit. Anya cut out of the retreat in Kashmir a bit early and went to meet her grandparents in Calcutta. There, she also met up with Kelly. They two of them traveled around Calcutta and Varanasi before come back here on Saturday.

While the retreat in Kashmir reminded me that I was part of something bigger, not just a disconnected English teacher in the Knowledge Center. Now I am reminded of something else bigger. It's not just Anya and I here and, our fellowship isn't just about navigating the ins and outs of Jagori. I had sort of forgotten all of the other Shansi fellows around Asia and that we're not just teaching machines. It's about cultural exchange, traveling, and growing in understanding of the world as well. Anya scolded me the other day that perhaps I take my classes a bit too seriously and that I need to consider traveling sometime soon. To that end, Kelly is going back to Madurai about the time that this current class session finishes. I am toying with the idea of going back with her and seeing a bit of south India.

On top of just reminding me of my place in things, it is wonderful to have Kelly around. Although we only met during our winter term training, we've become friends. It's always nice to have a fresh face around to liven up the group.

The third bit of excitement is that, for the full moon, the Jagori Grameen website was launched today. There are still pieces that I need to fill in more, but it is online now at http://www.jagorigrameen.org.

Jagori Retreat in Kashmir

2009-10-26T02:22:00.000-07:00

For Jagori's annual staff retreat, we all went to Shrinagar in Kashmir. Travel to the retreat in itself was a two day ordeal. On Tuesday morning, we all gathered at the Dharmsala bus stand to take a standard bus to Phratankot in the Punjab. There, we spent the evening at a Sikh temple until our coach bus arrived at 3:00 AM. I'm certain the reason we stayed there is because it was free. On the upper floor in a long hallway, they put out old, worn mattress pads and rather stained looking sheets for us to sleep on. I was among those that attempted to stay awake until the next bus came, but as more and more people dropped off, and I couldn't keep my eyes open wide enough to keep reading Les Miserables, I gave in and curled up for the last half hour.

That evening, before everyone settled in for the night, I went out to wander the town with Vandana, Vandana (there are three of them on my team), Devika, Anya, and Roni. We went on a grand adventure of people giving wrong directions to find an ATM, then followed our nose to a little restaurant for dinner. While others had puranata (a flat-bread), samosa (breaded pockets with potatoes and vegetables inside), I went for the chow mein, which I thought would be less spicy. I was wrong. Chow mein is a very common dish served at restaurants in India, and it is Indian in the same way Lee Ann Chin is American. This chow mein was loaded with green chili peppers more than any other vegetable. It was quite a surprise.

Once back at the temple for the night, I 'made friends' with a group of children from a Sikh family that had traveled to visit the temple and was staying the night there as well. The youngest of them, a 10-year-old boy, was shyly dragged by his older brother and sister, to where Vandana and I were sitting and told us that he wanted to become my friend. The reason for his interest was pretty obvious: my complexion and hair color. I am obviously foreign and that makes me instantly an object of interest.

At first, I practiced my Hindi on him and his siblings, with Vandana's help, then she suggested that they practice their English on me. At first, they wanted to know the basics, like my name, where I was from, my age, my family. Then, they moved into more unusual, and amusing, questions.

“You are so fair! What do you do to your face to get so fair?”
“You hair color? How do you get it that color?” The boy reached over to pet the hair on top of my head then added, “It's so silky. How do you get it so silky?”
“Why are your eyes that color? What color are they anyway?” Mine are a very light shade of blue. At this point I was getting frazzled trying to come up with even remotely satisfactory answers for them. Vandana cut in with, “Because that way they will match her outfit so well.” I was wearing sky blue that night. That seemed to dissuade them.
“Why do you wear glasses?”

It continued on until we excused ourselves and went back up to where everyone was settling in. Since our space didn't have any doors at all, we saw them later that evening when they let it slip that they wanted to 'make friends' with Anya as well and hung out with us for some time later.

At 2:30 AM, the whole Jagori team was roused and packed everything up again to load up on our coach bus. My strategy of staying up late to force myself to sleep on the bus seems to have failed, as the bus had awful shocks and the roads were incredibly winding. At best, I slept 2 hours in total. We stopped sometime after dawn for breakfast at a road-side restaurant for chai, beans, and puri (fried flat-bread). When much of the team complained that the food was bad, we all loaded back on the bus and went a few miles down the road to another restaurant and ate there. For the first people served like Anya and I, we had our second breakfast there. It was much the same food, but apparently better. I can't tell bad beans from good ones yet.

We didn't really stop for lunch, but had a quick snack of more chai and pakora (battered fried vegetables), which I didn't partake in because I was feeling queasy. We then loaded back on the bus and headed off again. Before the bus could leave, one vendor saw that I was foreign through my open window and tried to convince me to stay with his cousin, for free, once I reached Shrinagar. I declined as politely as I could and then the bus drove off, saving me from farther argument. We arrived at our hostel in Shrinagar at around 7:00 PM. That made for about 14 hours on the road that day. We had chai and snacks then dinner before all falling into our beds. By beds, I mean pads on the floor lined up six in a room. It's comfortable and cozy, if cold. I was glad for the closeness of everyone and slept in silk thermal underwear, pajamas, socks, and a sweater. I could comfortably had worn more, even.

On Thursday, the retreat workshops began. The morning was spent giving presentations of what each Jagori team had been doing lately and goals for the next five years. In the afternoon we broke into our teams and discussed the strengths of our individual activities and how to monitor them better then gathered together to give suggestions and feedback to each group on their works.

That night after dinner, we invited the engineering students of the hostel to have a cultural exchange with us. This is a men's hostel, so all of them were men. It turned into a dance party, more than anything. Four Kashmiri boys tried to perform a pop dance for us, but kept forgetting their moves. From there, the Jagori girls sang songs while they danced. Eventually a few of the Jagori men joined in dancing, followed by some women. At one point, they pulled up Anya to dance with them, then Roni later. As I sat farther away from them, I was safer from that kind of attention, but I knew it was only a matter of time until I would be forced to dance as well. It took them until the last dance, but they did grab me. While Jagori has gotten me more comfortable with singing on command, I'm still incredibly nervous dancing in front of people. I danced for a minute or so, then snuck off and sat down again. It was more fun for me just to watch.

On Friday, we toured around Shrinagar. First, we went up into a famous hill station up in the mountains where we briefly wandered, took pictures, and did a bit of shopping. Anya bargained hard for a shawl, while I managed to get material for a wool salwar kameez at a cheaper price than her shawl without even bargaining. I guess because shawls were in higher demand, he felt like he could raise the price, where as fabric wasn't as much.

After that, we got back in the bus and drove to the mountains on the other side of Shrinagar. There, we visited two Mughal era gardens and their temples. What surprised me most about the gardens was that most of the flowers were types that I see frequently back at home in Minnesota, suggesting that the climate here is very similar to that back home.

Kashmir, despite the mountains, reminds me a lot of home in a way. Something about the trees turning yellow, the crisp cool air, and something else I can't put my finger on all adds to the feeling of me being close to home.

After the gardens, we went to Lake Dal and hired small boats to take us around the lake. They had canopies and soft seats enough for four passengers. It was incredibly relaxing to be rowed across the still water. The peace was broken, however, by a floating marketplace. The lake was filled with vendors in their own boats selling everything from saffron to jewelry to tea to shawls. Unlike those on the side of the road, you couldn't run away from these. You had to convince them firmly that you really, really had no intention of buying what they had.

Our guide took us past a lotus patch. The flowers weren't in season, but it was still pretty stunning with all the huge leaves peaking up over the water. Then he offered to take us to a woodworking workshop and we accepted. When we pushed up to shore, a man was chiseling intricate flower and vine designs into a plank of chestnut wood. It appeared to be a cabinet door. He told us about the process and then took us up into the show room. It was almost like a museum, the craftsmanship on all of his pieces were so beautiful. I walked out with a few more inexpensive souvenirs to give as gifts. I know enough about woodworking myself to know that this man was a true artist with wood.

Hopping back into our boat, we floated slowly back across the lake, watching the sun set. It was really magical. We all wished that time would slow to a stop just so we could keep enjoying the beautiful view and gentle sway of the water.

From there, we went on a quick shopping trip in Shrinagar. There, I finally found myself a shawl I liked in nice teal and blue colors. We also happened across an English book store, where I picked up one of the Tolkien histories. We had little time left, so we hurried back to the bus and home for the night. Dinner came around 9:00. I thought that people in Himachal eat late, but it seems that the schedule is even later here in Kashmir.

At nearly all of our stops, a common tourist trap was a photography group that would dress up people in traditional Kashmiri clothes, have them pose with a gaudy basket of fake flowers, and take their picture. There was even a vendor boat or two out on Dal Lake taking pictures like this. While our little boat managed to escape them, nearly all the other Jagori women came home with photos of them dressed as Kashmiris.

On Saturday, we had more meetings all day. It was the most productive time for us and we got a lot done, including starting to restructure the responsibilities in our team. While some of the earlier sessions had left me with a sour taste in my mouth, I really feel like we made good progress and everyone understood each other. We finished off the night with some singing and dancing, as always.

An interesting point of note: in India, nuts are called 'dried fruit.' As we left the session tonight we were asked if we wanted some dried fruits. I happily responded that I'd love some dried mango, but was told that they only had almonds and walnuts. I wound up buying a bag of each anyway from the college cafeteria below where we had our sessions.

Kashmiri cuisine is very oily and consists of more beans and rice than Himchali cuisine does. What doesn't have oil usually has lots of ghee (purified butter). This has led to some stomach troubles for me, but I've learned what I can eat safely and what I can't. Thanks to my cousin Krista's training this summer of putting chili powder into absolutely everything we ate this summer, I no longer get an upset stomach whenever I eat spicy food, but oil and dairy still cause problems for me. My friends and I just laugh about my overly sensitive stomach. What else can you do when nature gives you troubles?

The trip back was mostly uneventful, but somehow longer. We must have taken a different route, making two middle-of-the-night bus changes. We left the hostel at about 9:30 AM on Sunday morning and arrived back in Rakkar at 5:45 AM on Monday morning, just in time to greet our landlady and hear the early morning worship music from the temple near by.

We took a few stops, but mostly pushed on to get back as soon as possible. I think everyone was secretly thinking of bathing with hot water, something we hadn't been able to do all week. On our way out of the valley where Shrinagar was, we got stopped at a check point. Unlike on our way in, but Roni and I were in the front of the bus. Roni was right in front of the door and the official noticed her right off, demanding a passport and having her fill out a form. Somehow, he didn't see me right across the aisle. The girls around me realized what was going on, and told me to quickly cover my head and face with my dupata and pretend to be sleep. They didn't want to have to take the extra time to have me fill out the paperwork too. Hiding like that, with the girls all giggling around me, I passed for an Indian.

We took a shopping stop once we were out of the valley, but in the market we stopped at, the shops were all mostly identical: baskets, dried fruit, ugly shawls, and souvenir cricket bats. It make all of us wish we had more time to shop in Shrinagar itself.

While there were ups and downs this last week, I'm glad I went. I got a much better feeling for what Jagori is about and how it works. Almost more importantly, I got to know the other Jagori staff that don't pass through the Knowledge Center. It took a while to break the ice because most of the staff assumed I spoke almost no Hindi. I have been shy of them because I was worried about not being able to hold a conversation. Vandana told me that had the effect of making them shy away from me, afraid that I didn't want to talk to them. I stubbornly worked on my Hindi all week and soon most of the staff realized that they could talk to me. Another side effect is that my Hindi improved greatly over the course of the retreat. It was the beginning of a lot of new friendsh

Deepawali Lights

2009-10-19T21:56:00.001-07:00

This Saturday was Deepawali, the festival for Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth. Because of the holiday, I gave my students the day off and joined the celebrations myself. Deepawali is, above all, a beautiful holiday. Someone first explained it to me as the “Indian Christmas.”

The religious aspect of it is to welcome Lakshmi into your house. To do this, people light candles and little oil lamps and set them up all around their house. They drape garlands of marigolds over doors and windows and colorful Christmas lights wherever they can. In front of their doors, they draw or paint intricate designs to give a path for Lakshmi to the door, lining it with more candles.

For the more secular part, people blow off fire crackers, give gifts, and celebrate in all sorts of other ways.

As for me, I went with my friends to Sonia and Bryan's house where they were throwing a big party. After being introduced to the other guests, Sonia performed her puja (worship) for Lakshmi, which several of the guests took part in as well. After that was over, we were each handed a box of candles to decorate their patio and yard with. When all of the candles were lit—there must have been close to a hundred of them—it looked almost magical. Once that was done Bryan and Sonia brought out their fireworks. Unlike most locals who prefer firecrackers that mostly just make an earsplitting bang, Sonia had brought back real fireworks and fountains from the Punjab where she is from. It was pretty exciting and colorful, but one of the guest's three-year-old daughter was having some trouble coping with all the noise. Both she and Bryan and Sonia's equally harried dog took shelter inside on the sofa.

After most of the fireworks were done, we all migrated inside for a huge Punjabi dinner. The food was all fantastic and more than we all could eat. When dinner was wrapping up, I was asked to sing once again. This time, I suspected something like that would happen, so I came prepared with “Sure on this Shining Night.” It seemed appropriate. While it is still a little unnerving to be asked to sing on the spot, I'm gaining confidence with it, and even enjoying it. I will take my options to sing when I can. It's one thing to be 'that college student who can sing pretty well' hanging out around the Oberlin Conservatory, and entirely another to be 'the only girl in the village who can sing Western classical music.' It's somewhat liberating. I have a lot more fun singing when I don't have to worry about the critical ears of my listeners.

Unrelated but almost as exciting, I think I saw the Dali Lama by being in the right place at the right time this last Tuesday. I was on a bus coming back from Dharmsala when we encountered a huge traffic jam at the fork in the road where one leads back to Sidhbari and the other to Gagal. There were police officers everywhere, directing traffic off of the Gagal fork. Traffic was packed so tightly on the Sidhbari fork that it had completely come to a stop. My bus was more or less caught in the middle of the intersection, so I could see everything that went by.

Suddenly, one police car came up the Gagal fork by with sirens blaring, followed by a second. Behind them was a black jeep with a man in the front who was waving. My bus erupted into murmurs that made me wonder who it was I had just seen. Following the black car were two vans and a whole bush load of military police. After they passed, traffic slowly returned to normal and I eventually got home.

It wasn't until several days later when I related this incident to Anya and I found out who it was. Evidently, many people had gone to Dharmsala and waited on the road side just to catch a glimpse of him on his way up to McLeod Ganj. Here I just got lucky on my way back from a shopping trip. I'm hoping that sometime before I leave I will be able to hear him speak, rather than just a glimpse of him waving from a car.

Birthday Parties

2009-10-14T01:52:00.000-07:00

First off, I want to thank everyone for the birthday well-wishes. I did have a fun weekend.

While the party the evening of my actual birthday wasn't exactly my kind of party there was lots of good food and singing. Because I had to teach that day, I chose to wear my nicest salwar kameez suit as a private celebration.

Didi's party the next day, however, was a blast. It ran from 11:30 a.m. until at least 5:30 that night. In a corner of Didipur, they had set up a large tent filled with tables and chairs. In the end, there were more people there than chairs. I would believe that she had almost the estimated 100 people there. The highlights of the day were the food and performances. There was a large buffet filled with all of Didi's favorite dishes. I have to say, Didi has good taste in food. I think my favorite there was a paneer (Indian cottage cheese) and peas dish that puffed lotus seeds in it. I've never had lotus seeds before, and apparently they're reserved for special occasions only.

Even more spectacular was the double-tiered chocolate cake so large that it had to be carried in on its own table. It was decorated with chocolate flowers and sculptures of ducks and geese. It was really the most amazing cake I have ever seen and one of the best I have ever eaten. Along with the cake, was vanilla and butterscotch ice cream, which was a very nice treat. Since most people don't even have refrigerators, you don't get ice cream very awesome. When I heard this cake and ice cream was coming, I started to wonder just how it could be served to 100 people in an environmentally friendly way. The answer was leaf bowls. Like the leaf plates I ate on at the village feast, these were made of large fresh leaves stitched together with what looked like tiny toothpicks. I really think the rest of the world could take a lesson from leaf dishes. It's much more sustainable than paper plates or Styrofoam ones.

As to entertainment, a couple of songs were sung for Didi. One of the other guests was a Tibetan woman from McLeod Ganj who was a very talented singer. Just before she started to sing, Anya asked me if I could sing something for Didi as well, so I had just a few minutes to pull something together, which I was glad to do. If it was ever a secret to begin with, the fact that I am a decent Western classical singer is very public knowledge now. And here I was worried about having opportunities to sing here. I need to practice a bit more though so I don't keep singing the same two songs every time anyone asks me.

After the singing, there was a short clown show. Dr. Barbara has some friends from Germany in an avocational clown troupe that she invited to come and do a tour of performances in the area. As it happened, their tour just began, so they were invited to come perform at Didi's party as well. It really made for an exciting event.

The party was also a great place to meet interesting people. I got to talk to Sister Celia about what it's like being a Catholic missionary in a heavily Hindu area and what brought her here. I met a few clients of Didi's who just moved back from living in Bloomington, Minnesota (where my dad grew up). They had been electrical engineers trained at Iowa State University in Ames, Iowa (where my mom grew up). We had a great time exchanging nostalgia for Minnesota. Right now, Didi is building a house for them and they invited me to come visit them once their house is done. It's funny how one can find a little piece of home no matter where you go in the world.

Reason to Party

2009-10-10T01:41:00.000-07:00

Life has been pretty quiet lately, but this weekend is sure to get exciting, namely because of birthdays. Didi's 80th birthday is tomorrow. Phillip, the Austrian volunteer at Nishta, is also turning 20 tomorrow. Add me to the mix, turning 23 today, and Anya's grandma whose birthday was on Wednesday, and there's plenty of reason to party.

Didi is throwing a huge party tomorrow with as many as 100 guests expected. She has, however, thrown all the rest of us with birthdays around now on the bill of guests of honor. Druv, another one of Anya's neighbors, planned to throw a young people birthday party tonight for Phillip. Upon finding out that he was throwing a party for Phillip on my birthday, it became my birthday party too. Wanting to do something special myself, I invited some friends to join me for dinner at a delicious little Japanese restaurant up in McLeod Ganj last night. It wasn't much of a party, in a sense, but it was still a lovely evening.

Stepping backwards, since I teach today but had yesterday off, I decided to get all my lesson planning done the day before and give myself a fun day. First, I went up to Dharmsala with Roni to go fabric shopping. It was super fun to go from shop to shop and see what each had in stock. After about an hour of this, I came out with makings for two new suits and five meters of an ugly yet cheap fabric to make a mock-up of a costume I am planning. (Finally getting some thread, I turned the hem of the dupata that the tailor had surged in white. I forgot just how calming hand sewing is for me and I look forward to having a project to work on.)

I had never been fabric shopping myself before, so it was a fun adventure. The first suit makings I got were already in a set. It's sage green and sort of straw color. Very pretty. The second suit was at a store that had some by-the-meter fabric. I found a very nice sky blue with gold swirls on it to make a cameez (tunic shirt) and a matching sheer fabric that faded form that blue to purple and fuchsia for the dupata (scarf). The salwar (pants) fabric that went with it had rather ugly flowers on it, so I decided to play mix-and-match. I found a really nice light lavender fabric that I liked, but there wasn't enough on the bolt to make a pair of salwar. The shopkeeper then tried to convince me to pick all sorts of pink and blue fabrics instead, but none of them really fit with what I wanted. After arguing with him for quite some time, he finally left the shop and shortly returned with a full bolt of the same lavender. “From my other shop,” he explained. Why didn't he do that to begin with?

After that, I went up to McLeod Ganj to meet Anya's grandparents. They just arrived up here on Thursday night, and, since Anya had to teach yesterday, she suggested that I go hang out with them for the afternoon. They really are wonderful people, over eighty years old and in fantastic shape from doing daily yoga and long walks. Her grandma almost out-walked me. Her grandpa is Indian from Mumbai, a retired engineer, and her grandma is a retired art historian. Between the two of them, I got great explanations of the temples that we visited, historically, artistically, and religiously.

We had lunch at a little coffee shop while we hunted through their travel guide for something to do. We eventually settled on a nice walk to the next town over, Bhagsu. It was about 4km round trip and very pretty. We wound up at a Shiva temple that was partly under construction, but it did have a swimming pool (for ritual washing, I assume). There was also a waterfall on the mountainside beyond the temple. We didn't walk all the way up to it, but we did get a pretty good look from the exit of the temple. Upon returning to McLeod Ganj, we bought some postcards and sat at another coffee shop, drinking lassis and writing postcards until Anya arrived after work.

Once Anya got there, we ran into Phillip at a book store and headed to the Japanese restaurant Lung Ta (definitely not a Japanese name). Vandana and Roni met us there later. The food was absolutely delicious and Anya's grandparents treated us all, since it was a birthday celebration. After dinner, we moved onto Nick's Italian Kitchen for dessert where we had a nut brownie with ice cream and chocolate sauce (the best thing on their dessert menu, I think.) By that time, it was late, so we got a taxi and headed home. It was a great way to spend my pre-birthday.

Today, to celebrate, I decided to wear my nice suit. It is a special occasion after all. I've come to realize that it's really up to you to make your birthday exciting, so I'm doing well so far. Vandana and Devika came over this morning to wish me a happy birthday. They had made me breakfast and gave me a box of tea bags as a gift. It was all delicious. Vandana also stuck her head into my class this morning and announced that it was my birthday, prompting congratulations from my students. I really am growing to love my students and teaching their classes.

So far, the weekend is off to a good start. We'll see how the rest of the parties go. In the mean time, I need to make some cards for Phillip and Didi.

Walk in the Clouds

2009-10-04T22:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I witnessed some amazing weather. I was in my room doing some writing when I happened to look outside and saw what looked like huge plumes of smoke blowing by. I rushed outside to my porch to find that it wasn't smoke, but clouds on their way up the mountain.

I know that fog is really just a low-lying cloud, but this was different than any fog I have ever experienced. You could see the edges and wisps of the clouds as they blew by. If I stuck out my hand, it would be in one of those wisps. It was that close and that clear around it. It was strange to look around me, as each cloud passed by, it was like my vision blurred to my surroundings.

Soon the clouds dispersed and a light rain fell. It was really a beautiful thing to behold.

Spur of the Moment Adventure

2009-09-27T04:56:00.000-07:00

Today I had an unexpected adventure. I was walking back up from buying rice in Sidhbari, intending to go back to the Knowledge Center to use the internet there, when Didi called to me from her car, just up the road, “Jenna! Come to the village feast with us!”

Before I go further, I should introduce Didi Contractor. She is an 80-year-old American woman who has been here in India for a long time. (Since before toilet paper came on rolls, she says.) She is an architect of mud houses and is Anya's landlady. Despite being eighty, she is still an active woman and still designs and works on houses. The Stuti I have mentioned before is apprenticed to her. She designed and owns Didipur, the cluster of mud houses where Anya lives.

In any case, I accepted and hopped into her car. We drove nearly all the way up the mountain, much farther than I had ever gone before, to a small temple where the feast was being held. The occasion, as I understand it, is that it's the ninth night of a holiday here where they put on nightly plays of the Ramayana, a great epic. Everyone in Rakkar is welcome to come, and anyone who passed by the temple, including a bus full of people, were stopped and invited to partake.

Long mats were set out in front of the temple on the grass where people sat and were served. First, plates made of large leaves were distributed. Then, a man went around with a large basket of hot rice. Following that, three yellow curries were poured over the rice in succession by other men. The time interval between each food was, it seems, long enough for you to finish eating the previous one. I, however, am not so skilled at eating rice and curry with only my fingers, so I was never quite ready for the next dish.

After the three curries came more rice and three dishes in a brownish sauce. I'm not sure exactly what they were, but it was all delicious. Following those three, an orange rice dessert with dried fruit and bits of cocoanut in it wrapped up the feast. I was the last to finish. I should say that it's amazing how much easier it is to eat hot food with a spoon or fork. Your mouth can handle hotter temperatures than your fingertips can.

All the while, there were two little boys hauling around pitchers of water (which I did not drink as it was obviously neither filtered or boiled) enthusiastically pouring it out for whoever needed more. Once our group was done eating, they pulled up the long mats, swept them off, laid them back down, and ushered in another group of people to eat. Everyone put their leaves away (to be burned or washed, I'm not sure), then used whatever water they had left to wash off their hands. The turmeric in the curries still left yellow stains on my fingers though. “That way everyone will know you have been to the feast,” Didi's friend told me.

That far up the mountain, it was like we were in a cloud with haze hanging everywhere. Even while we ate, a light drizzle fell, but no one seemed to mind. It was hot enough that the cool rain was appreciated.

Life is a lot more interesting, I find, if you leap into invitations. There are so many things I have seen and done even in this month so far if I had stuck to my own plans and declined invites. I wouldn't advice to leap without looking, but it is certainly more fun to go at life here with an adventurous and open spirit.

Settling into a Routine

2009-09-25T01:29:00.000-07:00

Now that I am well into my second week of classes, I can finally talk about some kind of routine. I teach my English classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. This alternates with a computer class for the same group of students on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. Thursday is always a day off for Jagori staff, as are every other Wednesday, but I teach on those days as well.

On the days that I teach, I get up around 8:45 in the morning, have breakfast, clean up, and orient myself for the day. The Knowledge Center opens up at 10:00, so I head down around then and set up for my class. If I don't have much set up to do, I check my email on the one computer that has internet connection there. My morning class runs from 11:00 to noon and has somewhere around six students. After class, I head home to make some lunch, then come back for the afternoon. My evening class is from 4:00-5:00pm and seems to have slightly more students than my morning class. After that is over, I clean up and go home.

On my days off, I have to do lesson planning, and that frequently requires trips down to Sidhbari to make some printouts and copies for my class.

My duties also include making the Jagori Grameen web site. Now that I have met with Abha, Anup, and Anya on it, I have much more to do. We're aiming to have it up by the end of October at the latest, so I suspect that's how I will use my time between classes from now until then.

As to eating, the meal schedule here is later than I am used to back in the US. Lunch happens between 1:00 and 2:00 usually, and dinner sometime after 7:00. This was a little hard to get used to at first, but it's something I'm adjusting into. Now that the Knowledge Center has been moved down close to my house, and it's usually just Vandana and I there, we don't hold so strictly to the lunch traditions.

However, up at the office, everyone makes their lunch before work in the morning and brings it with them. Then, when enough people feel that it's time for a break, they all gather together and eat. One thing to note is that everyone shares. You pass around your food and everyone takes a little bit, so that by the time all the food has gone around, you have about two or three bites of everyone's lunch. If someone didn't bring any food, the others gather up enough for them to eat. Thus, when I was spending time up at the office before the Knowledge Center moved, I couldn't just bring a peanut butter sandwich for myself. I had to make something that I could share.

Tidbits

2009-09-23T02:51:00.000-07:00

I've been here a month now. Lots of little things happen around me that make me smile, but they aren't worth a whole entry on their own. So, here is a collection of tidbits.

My landlady, Doctor Kusum, is one of the most sweet and caring people I have ever met. She has a pretty sizable garden that ranges all around the house, and she frequently brings up the fruits of her garden or little things she has cooked to share with Vandana and I. Through this, I have learned to took Indian corn (this stuff is tougher than American corn), how to eat a pomegranate, and how delicious Indian bananas are (they're little but packed with way more flavor than any banana I have ever had in the USA). Because she goes to the Nishta clinic at 9:00 every morning and Jagori doesn't open until 10:00, she has discovered if she wants to talk to me, it has to be in the morning, and it usually involves waking me up.

This morning, in fact, I was having a vivid dream of looking for a recipe for pumpkin pie from scratch, since this is my favorite food and we are nearing that season. I dreamed I was paging through old cookbooks in a desperate search, when I heard Dr. Kusum's voice. Staggering out of bed and unlocking my screen door, I saw her standing there with a quarter of a pumpkin for me. Still a little delirious from sleep, I stared at it in my hands and thought, “Pie.” It looks like I will need to find this recipe and make use of Anya's toaster oven some time soon.

On another occasion, because I had accidentally tripped on a cord and pulled a socket out of the wall, Dr. Kusum was trying to get an electrician to come to look at it while I was at home. After several tries, she eventually had him come early and wake me up to check on it. It had been hot that night, so I was sleeping on pajama shorts and a tank top. I never even go to my bathroom dressed in that, since my neighbors have a good view of my porch. As I stood there in my shorts while he pushed the socket back into the wall, I felt totally scandalized. It's funny what only one month in a country can do to your sense of modesty.

There is another new foreign arrival at Jagori. Roni, an Israeli girl who has been studying at Dartmouth in the US, has just arrived to do some volunteering and research here during her off semester. Having someone to show around really makes me realize how much I have learned about the area in the last month and how much my confidence has grown. There are still lots of things I don't know, but I can survive now without clinging to anyone else.

One time, when I was riding the bus back from Dharmshala, we passed a small fabric store that was full of Tibetan Buddhist monks. Here, they wear a sort of burgundy robe and have a sunny yellow shirt underneath. As I wondered what a bunch of monks was doing in a fabric shop, I noticed a length of sunny yellow cotton laid out on the counter. It does make sense that everyone, even the monks, buy their own fabric and get clothing tailored.

There is this particular bridge between Sidhbari and Dharmshala that cows really like to congregate on at night. While I haven't seen them there during the day, every single evening that I have come back from Dharmshala after having dinner out or shopping, there are a cluster of three to five cows all sleeping on half of the bridge. It makes a bit of a traffic bottle-neck.

Two nights ago, I went up to McLeod Ganj with Anya, Vandana, Stuti, and Roni for dinner. I have found that most times I go up there, I wind up meeting friends of friends who we didn't come with, but wind up having dinner or dessert with. This time, we met two Swedish girls who Anya had met last weekend at a workshop. In turn, their Tibetan-German friend came along. Then, a friend of Vandana's joined us. Our party of five become nine. This particular restaurant was great. I especially appreciated the large notice at the bottom of the menu saying, “All of our water is boiled in a pressure cooker.” It made me feel brave enough to have chicken. Granted, when the food came, the vegetarian platter looked better than mine. You really can't beat paneer (Indian cottage cheese), even with meat.

On our way back down, we encountered a whole flock of sheep going down the road, driven by their shepherd. It was really a sight to see. Even in Dharmshala, there are reminders that we really are in a rural area.

Anya and I just found a Hindi tutor as well, and met her yesterday. She is very sharp but very sweet too and fell into step the moment we said, “shall we begin?” even though she has never tutored before. I have daily assignments already to do until we meet again on Sunday.

This past Sunday, I did find a church. It was my first adventure of going some place I had never been before by bus, alone. To get there, you have to take buses all the way up to McLeod Ganj, and then walk back down the mountain a little ways, since its right in between two stops. The whole ordeal took me about an hour and a half. Not knowing when the service was, I arrived right around 9:00. It turns out, the church didn't open up until 10:00.

It is an old Gothic style church from the time of colonialism called “The Church of St. John in the Wilderness.” There are two stained glass windows at the front, but the rest are glass. Surrounding it on the mountain side is a sprawling cemetery.

As to the service, I was unimpressed. The pastor lead the songs by leafing through a folder that was handed out to everyone, and seemingly picking hymns at random. He had trouble staying in just one key, but it was good to be singing hymns again. I stubbornly stayed in the key he started in, and I guess I sung loud enough to convince others to as well. There were about 20 or 30 people there. The sermon was given by a guest speaker, and I found it rather centered around her. She kept pitching her new TV station amid more spiritual comments.

While the music and the sermon didn't impress me, what really turned me off was the feeling of community—or lack thereof. It struck me as a church for people passing through. Tourists would come and go. People came with who they came with, didn't talk to anyone else, and then left with the same people. It really lacked warmth. So, I'm going to keep looking for a church I can settle in. Maybe I'll go back to see what it's like when that woman isn't preaching.

I have also been teaching English classes since last Monday. Up until today, I was constantly getting new students and loosing old ones, but I think it's finally evening out at about 6 or 7 students per class. (I teach one in the morning and one in the afternoon.) I have bad lessons and good lessons, but I think I am getting the hang of things. I have a wide range of ages and skills, though they all do know some English from school. There are two boys who must be around 13 years old and a pair of older married women.

Anya's neighbor Maya has a dog named Ginger. Ginger is very enthusiastic and self confident. Yesterday, while I was at Anya's, Maya left Ginger with us while she snuck off to town so that the dog wouldn't follow her. When we deemed it safe, we let Ginger back out. However, as I went home, I met Ginger on the long driveway to the street and she followed me all the way home. I called Anya, and we agreed to meet half way to trade off the dog, since she was causing trouble and jumping all over Dr. Kusum. I dragged her by the collar about a quarter of the way to Anya's where she lay down on the street and rolled onto her back. The instant I let go of her collar to rub her belly, she jumped up and went back up the road again. By the time I caught her again, Anya got to me as well. Relieved, I passed the mischievous dog off. Ginger must have though we were playing a great game of chase.

Shopping

2009-09-16T01:47:00.000-07:00

Shopping around here is also a different experience from I’ve ever had at home. First off, there are clothes. I’ve been told that in the cities, most people buy pre-made clothes, whereas out here in the countryside, people mostly get things tailored (or make their own clothes). That involves buying fabric, going to a tailor, getting measurements taken, specifying what style you want everything in, and coming back some time later to pay for it and pick it up. So far, I have three salwar kameez suits done and two at the tailor’s. My first suit took about one week to finish, the last two I have in are estimated at four weeks. It really depends on how busy the tailor is, how many assistants he has, and, in the case of my most recent suit, how healthy the tailor is. It took at least two weeks longer than this tailor originally appraised, because he got very sick and couldn’t sew for a week or so. Getting things tailored requires more patience, but they fit better and you can customize them all you like.

One thing I am really enjoying is the personal touches that different tailors put into the clothing. One point of note is around the cuffs of the pants, the salwar. The cuff is reinforced with stiff interfacing and is about one inch wide. Rather than just stitching the interfacing in and being done with it, every tailor does several rows of machine stitches around the cuff in a sort of decorative pattern. I will take some pictures when I get a chance. Some tailors make the patterns more intricate than others.

It is tough, as someone who sews, when I get a suit back and there are parts of it that I look at and say to myself, “I could have done that better.” What that means, in the long run, is that I’m bound to be really picky with tailors, and always pick the ones that cost a little more and take a little longer. Maybe someone will teach me to stitch my own suits by the time I leave here.

Shopping for food and other supplies is fun too. Most stores here are what we would call “garage stores.” They are made in flat-roofed cement buildings with metal garage doors over the front that are slid up when the store is open. In Rakkar and Sidhbari, these garages are usually not big enough even to hold a car. Each little store has its own selection of things, so you have to know which store has the things you need. Produce stands change their wares as new things come in season or go out of stock. Food is fresh and delicious. There are two food stores practically out my front door, so if I need an extra potato as I’m making dinner, it’s easy to run out for another.

When you buy produce, rice, spices, beans, flour, and the like, shopkeepers weigh what you want on a scale, and charge you based on weight. One time, when buying two tiny heads of garlic, they shop keeper gave them to me for free, since they were worth less than a rupee. Another time, when I tried to buy four little eggplants, they didn’t weigh enough to be a good round price, so this vegetable seller added another one to my bag.

Some shop keepers are very friendly. For example, when I went to buy dictionaries, a notebook, and a few folders from a stationary shop, the shop keeper introduced himself as having visited the United States and wanted to know all about Anya and I. While I perused different dictionaries, he even offered us tea, which we declined. When we finally checked out, he threw in a couple of pens for free for me and a little note pad for Anya.

Other times, you really have to haggle to get a good price. As a foreigner, people will tend to ask you for the full price on something, which is higher than the normal price. By asking for a ‘discount’ they will bring the price down. Some places are harder to haggle at. Anya has told me of how she will sometimes spend ten or fifteen minutes in a store chatting with the shopkeeper, trying to bring the price down. I, however, haven’t gotten the guts to haggle quite so intensely yet.

Although unrelated, I feel that I should mention a major victory for myself. For lunch today, I cooked Indian food from scratch for myself for the first time. And it was delicious! It took about an hour, but it was definitely worth it.

Wildlife

2009-09-14T03:44:00.000-07:00

An important part of the experience here is the wildlife. The first thing I noticed in Rakkar were the dogs. Wild dogs wander the streets freely, scavenging for discarded food. The average Indian dog is built like lab, but somewhat smaller. Their tails curl over on top and their ears are half way in between sticking up like a cattle dog and flopping over like a lab. They come in all sorts of colors and coats. Some people do own dogs, however. While you wouldn't want to pet a dog on the street, I have gotten my dog fix from two dogs owned by Anya's neighbors, Ginger and Boey. Because there have been problems with rabid dogs in the not so distant past, most people here are afraid of all dogs. (Don't worry, I'm vaccinated.)

Last week, when I tagging along with Anya to observe her English class at the Shapur Knowledge Center, we found an abandoned puppy in the gutter at our bus transfer in Dharmshala. Its eyes weren't even open yet, and it lay there shivering and whimpering. Anya took some paper, pulled it out of the gutter, and set it on some rags in a corner of the bus stop to dry off. It was a pretty fat little dog, so we assumed it had just lost its mother that morning and hoped that she would come back to find it soon. We stopped back to check on it on the way home that evening and it was gone. Hopefully it's safely back with its mother now. Otherwise, we were planning to take back with us to find a home for it in Rakkar.

The next thing I noticed were the snails. Snails here are nocturnal, but they get everywhere at night, gathering in clumps around whatever they find delicious and slithering slowly up and down the roads. There are no street lights around here and my flashlight can only illuminate so much, so I accidentally step on at least two every night when I come home from visiting Anya or her neighbors. The crunching sound that comes with stepping on a snail really makes you regret what you've just done. It's pretty terrible.

As to monkeys, there aren't any in Rakkar or Sidhbari. While there are plenty further up the mountain in places like Dharmshala and McLeod Ganj, dogs firmly hold the place of scavengers around here. Frankly, I'm glad we have dogs rather than monkeys. They're much less mischievous. I've heard stories of monkeys entering people's houses and helping themselves to the refrigerator or even stealing your shopping bag right out of your hands.

Cats are few and far between. Indians believe that all cats, not just black ones, are unlucky, so few are kept as pets. There is a pretty sandy colored one with a striped tail that hangs out around my house and the neighboring houses though.

Included in the local fauna are also smallish lizards, snakes (though I have yet to see one), and spiders. The spiders here can get leg spans the size of the palm of your hand, but the largest ones I have found in my house are about the size of a fifty cent piece. They don't bother me and I don't bother them.

I finally have a straight answer to the question, “what exactly are you doing over there?” Today, I began to teach my first English class. This is a ten week course that alternates days with a computer class here at the Rakkar Knowledge Center. Since there aren't any text books here or set courses, I had to come up with a full class plan from scratch myself, which is what I have been doing for the last two weeks.

It is also my responsibility to make (and I assume, updated) the Jagori Grameen web site. Anya and another American girl who was here earlier started working on one, but it was far from finished. So far, I have taken the existing layout, and tweaked it to make it easier to navigate and more colorful. I am awaiting orders on what specifically to do next. There is also talk of me making a separate web site for TARA Center, where Jagori hosts workshops. I'm sure that will come when the Jagori Grameen site is up and running.

With my free time, I have been doing my best to adjust to life here. Lately, almost every night I have had an invite to someone's house for dinner, a movie, or both. I have started to take notes as I watch and help others cook. That way, soon, I'll be able to cook respectable India food myself. Most nights I'm not and someone's house, I find myself taking a trip of to Dharmshala or McLeod Ganj for dinner or shopping. My social life here is surprisingly active. During my time to myself, I have been mostly reading and writing. It's enough to keep me content.

Yesterday, at the birthday party of one of Anya's neighbors, Maya, I finally met Sister Celia. She is the principal of a local school and Catholic nun. She invited me to come see the convent some time this week and come to one of the daily Mass services. I'm not sure who has been gossiping to who, but as always, my reputation as a singer proceeds me. It seems that every new person I meet says, “And I hear you are an excellent singer.” This was no exception. Sister Celia commented that her school needs a music teacher and that I could teach her students a singing class. Having missed all of the singing basics by joining choir only in my senior year of high school, I politely declined. Then Didi, Maya's mother, said that I should go to the protestant church up in McLeod Ganj, as they need lots of help with their music. We'll see what I get sucked into. I do love singing and sharing that with others.

Comforts & Adventures

2009-09-05T09:36:00.000-07:00

While it is true that I'm living in a rural village in Northern India, it is not without its comforts. First and foremost: Skippy Super Chunk peanut butter. There's really something wonderful about having the peanut butter you grew up on, especially for all of the peanut butter toast and sandwiches I make. Vandana likes to make fun of me for how excited I get about it.

Secondly, I now have a small fridge. It's bigger than anything they would allow in an Oberlin dorm room, but isn't anywhere close to full size. It's surprising how much we rely on refrigerators for our food needs. I didn't quite realize it until I was without one. This is the official Shansi fridge now, so it will get passed down to other fellows that come after me. I'm sure there will be a lot of other stuff like that too, but since Anya and I are the first two fellows here, it's hard to say exactly what else.

And then there's toilet paper. While I am starting to get the hang of the water method, it's nice to have a few rolls at home.

All this, and other good and familiar foods, is made possible by Dharmshala and McLeod Ganj, two bigger cities up the mountain to the west of Rakkar. McLeod Ganj in particular is a mecca for hippies and foreign tourists, so the stores up there sell all sorts of imported goods. It is still hard, though, to find any kind of dark chocolate. Indian's don't like it, so the most frequently found chocolate is Cadbury.

As far as internet goes, it takes some effort to come by. I don't have any at home so I have to go looking for it, but there are options. First, there is one internet connection at the Jagori Knowledge Center. You plug in a cell phone with a USB cord and get relatively slow internet that way. That one phone is passed around to whoever needs it during the day. Secondly, the other NGO in Rakkar, right up the road from Jagori, has a computer lab with relatively slow but reliable internet. It's wireless, so I could take my laptop up and surf from the comfort of my own computer. Next, there is a tiny internet cafe down in Sidhbari. It costs a bit, so it's a last resort. Then, two of Anya's neighbors have wireless internet. One is out of town right now and graciously allowed Anya use of his internet while he was gone for the summer, and she has invited me to come along sometimes. Her other neighbor Bryan is almost always around, but he is alright letting people come over and use his internet sometimes. These two neighbors have the fastest connections around, but they frequently go in and out.

This past Tuesday was the not-so-annual Jagori picnic/retreat. In preparation, everyone was assigned to bring along some kind of food. The Knowledge Center team (that includes Anya, Vandana, and I) was assigned to make puris. A puri is a deep fried flat bread. I had learned how to make a basic flat bread before, but frying it was a new experience. The three of us made the dough the night before (wheat flour and water needed together) and then got up early the next morning to roll them out and fry them. Somehow in the process, I manged to dip two of my fingers into the boiling oil as I flipped a puri. Thankfully, I live above a doctor who loves to garden. I was able to keep aloe on the burns and, though painful for a while, it kept them from blistering at all. That plant really works wonders.

The whole staff piled into four taxi vans (putting more people into one vehicle than I thought possible at first sight), and headed East across the valley and up into the mountains. Our car remained entertaining as most of the women sang enthusiastically at the top of their lungs all the way there. By the end of the day, I was able to sing along with a few of their songs.

We took a few stops along the way to our final destination. First was at a small village where there was a small art gallery done by a famous Sikh artist. Following that we walked down to a temple along the river, nick-named 'The Fish Temple,' because the stretch of river behind the temple was the only area that fish gathered. We threw some food to the fish, and then moved on.

Next, we stopped at another temple to a goddess (I'm not sure which) high in the mountains. This one was built into a cave. There were two entrances. One, which most people took, was a little like spelunking. You had to climb up through a tunnel in the rock, crawl on your hands and knees, and even wriggle on your stomach to get into the sanctuary. I turned around at the point where I had to crawl through a puddle in my brand new white salwar kamiz. Then someone pointed out a slanted metal staircase that led up the other way. I took that instead. The inside of the cave was decorated with all sorts of trappings and smelled of incense. It definitely isn't what I expected when they said we were heading for a temple.

Our final destination was Asha Puri Devi, a temple to another goddess on the top of a mountain. This particular one was carved of stone and seemed really old. The few from it was spectacular. After everyone visited the temple, we spread out some reed mats and had our picnic in its shade. There was so much food passed around, everyone was stuffed by the end and there were still left-overs.

Afterward, Abha had everyone sing the welcome song to me and the other new person. Immediately following that, Abha announced that she heard I was a good singer and should sing a song for them right then. I sung the first thing I could think of, 'La Promessa', one of my favorites from my recital last semester. After I was done, various other people were called on to sing and dance in the circle. It really was a lot of fun.

On the way home there was more singing too. Anya and I led some of the others in a few English songs as well. We made a number of stops (many of them for reasons I wasn't sure of), but the last one they called a 'chai break.' Even so, I was surprised when, as we all sat by the side of the road, someone came around with cups of chai. I'm not sure where they found boiled water and milk to make it. As we sipped our tea, Anya and I were sitting on either side of Vandu (another one of the three Vandanas on my team) who decided to paint our nails while we waited. Now, my finger nails are light pink. I think it's been since middle school at least since I had my finger nails painted.

Weather

2009-08-31T03:06:00.000-07:00

The weather here takes some getting used to for a Minnesota girl like me. India is north of the equator, but much closer to it than America is. This means that the summers are hot and the winters are mild. When I first arrived in Delhi, the heat was almost unbearable for me, and I was told that it could have been a lot hotter. However, upon arriving in Himachal Pradesh, it was a lot nicer. Granted, it has frequently been hotter than I'd like, being at a much higher elevation keeps the weather cooler. To my understanding, winter here doesn't really get below freezing often, but it is still cold enough to be a bother when you don't have any kind of central heating. I need to get a space heater sometime before then.

This time of year is monsoon season, and this area is rated for the second highest annual rainfall in the country. It rains at least once a day and is humid the rest of the time. I left my laundry out to dry under my overhang yesterday afternoon and it's still not dry yet. I hope it doesn't mold. Today, it has been raining pretty constantly since well before dawn, but other days there is only a morning shower and the sky clears up by lunch time. The rainy season runs through the summer and into September. Last year, it lasted well into October. Here, however, it does rain some outside of monsoon season as well.

Unfortunately for me, my 100 rupee umbrella I bought in Delhi broke after only three uses. I hear there is a man up in Dharmshala that can repair umbrellas, so I will need to visit him, or get myself a new one, pretty soon.

Living in Himachal

2009-08-27T00:02:00.000-07:00

I really have a very comfortable living situation here, which Anya found for me before I arrived. It's an apartment on the second floor of a mud brick house. As it turns out, despite the dustiness, mud houses are much better to live in than concrete houses, the alternative around here. The walls absorb the moisture during the rainy season, keep the house cooler during the summer, and warmer during the winter.

This particular house has three apartments on the top floor, one is unoccupied, but the third is occupied by Vandana, a girl from Delhi who recently came up here to work for Jagori. We have already become friends over a love for books and have shared several meals. On the first floor lives our landlady Dr. Kusum and her husband. She is a medical doctor in a local clinic and is an incredibly sweet woman. She is always coming up to see how I'm doing and giving us organic fruits and vegetables from her garden.

My apartment consists on three rooms, each opening separately onto the balcony. First, there is my bedroom, secondly, my kitchen, and thirdly my bathroom. I have uploaded some pictures of each. My bedroom has a desk, shelves, a little closet, a plank bed, and a large pad mattress on the floor. I've taken to sleeping on the floor because it is much more comfortable than the plank bed, which makes a nice couch. I don't have internet at home, however, so I have to find an internet cafe or use one of the NGOs' computer labs when I want to check my email and such.

My kitchen is pretty simple with shelves, a sink, and a stove. The stove is connected to a gas cylinder, which I have to buy about twice a year. I am still in the market for a small refrigerator, but most people around here make do without one. Unfortunately, I share my home with some insects, namely 'silver fish.' Vandana warned me that they like to eat through books, clothes, and food. To combat that, I got some insect repellant pellets to stash on every shelf and in every drawer, and socked up on air tight plastic containers. Also important to my kitchen is a pressure cooker. I have to boil water in that every day to drink so as to kill any bacteria and amoeba in the water that could make me sick.

My bathroom, well, that's even more simple. I have a sink just outside the door, and inside there is a toilet and several spigots for washing. Traditionally, Indian's use a little water bucket to clean themselves after using the toilet instead of toilet paper. I have yet to master this, so I got some toilet paper up in McLeod Ganj. Bathing happens in the same space as well. There isn't a shower or any hot water. I fill a large bucket with some water, than use a smaller scooper bucket to pour it over me. This morning I discovered how to use my heating coil, a coil of metal that when dropped into the bucket will warm up the water, and I can already seen that that will be very nice come cooler weather.

The area I live in is at the foot of the Lesser Himalayas. And, for being 'lesser', these mountains are incredibly impressive. The slope of the land here isn't so steep, but it begins to tire you out when you're always going up or going down. I'm sure I'll get stronger legs and lungs soon enough.

First Impressions

2009-08-25T06:37:00.000-07:00

It has been a very busy few days since I first stepped foot out into Delhi at something like 12:30 am on Saturday morning. Anya, my senior fellow, picked me up at the airport and we took a hired car back to Abha's house for the night. I briefly met Abha in the morning before she departed for a trip of her own. The rest of Saturday was a whirl-wind shopping adventure around Delhi with Anya and some friends. We picked up a number of things I would need that would be harder to find up in Himachal Pradesh.

The most exciting stop was Nalli's Saris. I would highly recommend it if you are ever in Delhi. Anya's friend recommended it as a good place to get fabric for salwar camis, which are what women wear up where we are. (My impression is that it is farther south in India that most women wear saris on most days. Up here, they seem to be for special occasions.) As we approached the entrance to the store, we were greeted by two security guards and one woman, who asked to search our purses. Upon entering the first floor, we were a bit overwhelmed by all the fancy saris and we began to wonder if we were in the right place for our budgets. As it turns out, the prime minister's wife and daughter were there, doing sari shopping. That certainly explained the extra security, and spoke to the quality of the merchandise.

Up on the third floor we found what we were looking for. Behind long counters manned by clerks were cabinets stacked with folded fabric. As an extremely jet-lagged fabric enthusiast, I was totally overwhelmed. We found the suit sets section marked with affordable prices (this means that they had selected fabrics for the pants, the shirt, and the wrap all together) and started asking the clerks for colors we were interested in. The would take a stack down for us to look through and put it back when we weren't interested. You could hold up the fabric in front of yourself and examine it in front of a mirror to make sure the colors and patterns worked with your complexion. It was great fun, and I walked out with the makings for five suits. I can't wait to get them tailored. It will be way more comfortable than jeans and t-shirts, especially in this weather.

Another interesting adventure for the day came at a coffee house. In another strip mall, we escaped the heat into a chain coffee shop. The atmosphere was so unlike American coffee shops, I would have hardly recognized it. For one, you were served your drink and pastries rather than ordering at the counter. But most strikingly, was that you almost had to shout to be heard by those around your table. It was a lively place with loud music and rumbling bass. Not the sort of place I would go to study. I hear that there are tamer coffee shops, though.

That night, Anya and I took a night bus up to Dharmsala. It was about an eleven-hour trip, and not much sleep was had thanks to the constant honking (on India roads, it's an “I'm coming up behind you” courtesy and not rude at all) followed by the mad twisting and turning up mountain roads. Once we arrived in Dharmsala, we got a taxi down to Rakkar, the village that I am now living in. While it does take some time to get in between, I was amazed at how close I am to there. As a crow flies, it's not far at all, though it's straight up a mountain.

Determined to fight off my jet-lag, after a short nap, I went up to McLeod Ganj with Anya and some of her neighbors and friends. McLeod Ganj is further up the mountain from Dharmsala and is where the Tibetan Government in Exile is housed. It is also a mecca for foreigners and shops selling foreign goods. I was able to find some cereal, pasta, and toilet paper to keep me supplied back home. We took a leisure eating tour of the town, first having pastries and coffee at an Italian bakery, french fries and drinks at a Tibetan restaurant, and finally ended the night with a late dinner at a Korean restaurant (where I tasted the best vegetarian sushi I have ever had). By that time my jet-lag had caught up with me with a vengeance, and I even had to have the taxi driver show me how to get back home. Thank goodness my land lady is well known.

One thing that really surprised me is how so many people know so many other people. As we headed for the bakery, we found a woman who had been here on a long retreat that was friends with one of Anya's friends, and so she joined us for cake. Then we ran into two other Americans, one of whom knew Anya's neighbor, so they joined us for fries. It turns out that the other one had studied Hindi under Virendra Singh, the same fantastic teacher I just spent the summer learning from. It was really fascinating talking to all of those people to hear what they were doing abroad. It was everything from personal growth, to fair trade business, to freelance writing.

Although Rakkar is rural village, it is far from quiet, even at night; honking cars, noisy conversations, crowing roosters, pounding, loud traditional music echoing across the valley, dogs barking, and an occasional roll of thunder. At the same time, it's a relaxed sort of noise, the kind that makes you feel at home.

As I finally lay in bed last night, it really stunned me that this is to be my home for the next two years. My language skills and knowledge of the culture are fairly minimal, and I don't really know what I'll even be doing yet. But here I am and here I'll stay. While I float between apprehension and excitement, I know this will probably be two of the best years of my life.

Departing

2009-08-19T23:03:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe that tomorrow I depart for India. On this side of things, two years seems like a long time, but I'm sure it will fly by.

I only have one layover tomorrow in Amsterdam. It's in the wee hours of the morning, so I doubt I'll be able to set foot outside of the airport, but we'll see. Anya is meeting me at the airport in Delhi, and I really look forward to meeting her face to face. I look forward to meeting all the people around Jagori that she's talked about too.

Somehow, I'm over being nervous, though I'm not quite excited yet. I'm sure those emotions will flip-flop all the way to Delhi, but actually setting foot in India can't be anything but exciting.