Further up and Further in

Further up and further in

2006-08-30T07:40:00.000+05:30

The abandonment is official. This blog is finished. This is where I should be writing about the things that I miss about India, you know, the colors, the chaos, the food, the cows, etc. More than anything, the friends we made there and especially the children living at Pathway. India was a study in contrasts for the three of us, I think, the gap between the rich and the poor, the good and the not-so-holy. I'll save my speeches for the soapbox. After the experiences I've had in the last 11 months, I feel like nothing can faze me. From here it's further up and further in.

The surprise return

2006-07-31T17:38:00.000+05:30

When Lisa found out in April that she needed to choose a return flight to the States on or before July 9th, I decided that I would change my return flight to July 23rd (a week or so earlier than planned). But I didn't tell anyone in my family until June, when I let a brother and two sisters in on the secret (none of whom are living at home). It just worked out that my bro was in State College the weekend I was coming home, so he and his wife and a friend of ours came to get me from the airport. However, when I got to the airport in State College (enormous....two whole gates), no one was there. Just like when I got home from my mission. So I got out my laptop to check my email to see if there was some complication that perhaps my brother had emailed me about. Two of my sisters were already online, poised and ready to keep my mom distracted while I snuck into the house, as we planned, and then my mom logged on! And she was so disappointed. She hadn't talked to me all weekend, and she had been hoping against hope that I was being sneaky and coming home early to surprise her. So when she sees me logged on, she writes, "Aren't you on your way home? I thought you were gone all weekend because you were coming home. Now I think I'm going to cry." I told her I'd talk to her soon, and at that point, my greeting committee arrived, and we made our way towards the house. Here's the video, the rest of the story:

Last album

2006-07-29T08:39:00.000+05:30

All these *last* and *end* posts are so dismal and Armageddon-like, but...there needs to be some closure. I've posted the best of the last batch of pictures. If that's not enticing enough, be enticed by more pics of Lisa and I in sarees and the kids' dance party on my last night at the farm. You can find the photos here.

Almost the end

2006-07-25T08:59:00.002+05:30

Well, kiddos, this is almost the end. I have a few final things to say about my time in India, and a few more pictures to post, but I have now returned to the Western hemisphere. Lisa also left India two weeks ago. My brother and sis-in-law came to pick me up from the airport, and I snuck into our house and surprised my fam. My brother videotaped it, so I'll try to post it before this blog is more or less abandoned...

I'm posting pictures of when Lisa and I were dressed (note: we did not dress ourselves...still haven't figured out how to put on a saree) in sarees, shortly before each of us left.

It's strange to be home. I miss the unpredictability of India already. My time there seems like a dream now, except for the Tamil phrases that escape my mouth now and again. And the head bobble. Who's going to help me satisfy my never-ending curry craving? I don't have time to make curries and sambars and rasam and idli and tamarind rice on a regular basis. I tried to eat some chicken last night, but I don't think I can stomach it yet. Slowy I'll ease myself back into the non-veg culture. Perhaps.

Bollywood conspiracy and the 'stache

2006-07-02T21:44:00.001+05:30

I have a theory about the popular figures in music and film here in India. Especially in Tamil Nadu, since most of my experience in India has been here. See, all of the male music and film stars, almost without exception, are very unattractive. Which is unusual compared to most of the rest of the world, I believe. This is what I think has happened: since there are many beautiful women here, the men would like their wives (or future wives) to be thinking that they are pretty hot, because most of them are in comparison to the stars I see in films and plastered on billboards. It keeps the women satisfied and not expecting much. Take this guy for example. He's apparently a beloved and attractive musician around these parts.

A big problem--and I believe this is really what it's all about--is the mustache. I just can't believe they like it. And they do...the minute young men here can grow a mustache, they do. But why, I ask, why? Why? At the present time, the number of attractive sorts of men I have seen here numbers somewhere around 10. Or possibly less. The count (not that I'm actually counting--I just want it to be understood that the attractive ones are extremely few and far between) would be much higher if most men didn't have those little slugs growing above the upper lip. Ew. (Disclaimer: any offensive remark I make about molestaches is not in any way directed against members of an older generation and especially any member of my immediate family).

Finally, after 10 months of wondering what business these men, in this day and age, and in the prime of their lives, have growing mustaches, I decided to do a little investigating. Don't try to tell me it's because mustaches look nice. That's simply not true. The only man I can think of who ever looked good with a mustache (besides my father, of course) is Tom Selleck. I believe that to be indisputable. However, there seem to be some Tamil sayings about 'staches, like "A man's glory is his mustache" and so on. And there's one region in particular that takes great pride in growing their mustaches, and growing them well, up in Rajasthan. Here's what I found:

Telugu proverb (translated): You cannot ask someone to smell your mustache to find out what your grandfather had eaten.
Thiruvalluvar (2nd century AD Tamil poet): Blessed is the man sporting a mustache, for it is only he that will be lavished with Dosais.
Telugu proverb: No food to eat, but aroma oils for mustache.
Kannada saying: It didn't bother him that he fell as his mustache didn't get soiled.
Local saying: Some mustache is better than no mustache.

And then I found this, a BBC news report from 2004 about police officers receiving incentives for growing mustaches ( I refuse to use the British standard spelling of moustache, by the way, because it looks too much like 'mouse' and then I think of a mouse's tail above the upper lip). The best part is the quote from the district police chief about what a mustache does for ya: "Moustaches are improving the personalities of our constables. They are acquiring an aura of their own. They are creating a positive impression on the local people and getting a lot of respect."

Is what he says true? Do people look at mustachioed men, as he says, "very respectfully and pleasantly?" What about those who can't grow mustaches? Don't we deserve respect? This subject is by no means closed. I may have a number of future rantings and ravings on mustaches. Not that this wasn't long enough. But it could be possibly discussed for days on end. I hereby propose the Stache as the first topic for discussion at the fabulous curry function which shall be held in August in Utah. Date, time, and location TBA.

Other names for the mustache: stache, tache, tash, mo, soup strainer, flavor saver, cookie duster, molestache

Photo albums

2006-06-18T21:19:00.000+05:30

Well, we've narrowly escaped the mange this week (known in humans as scabies). At least we hoped we escaped it. Can't really know for a few weeks, since the mites burrow into your skin and lay eggs. If there are eggs planted in our skin, then the eggs will hatch, and we'll know for sure. There are several new children who were admitted who have the ailment, and they've been in quarantine all week.
Treatment involves being quarantined, being scrubbed down using scalding hot water to bring the skin mites to the surface, and sitting around naked for 24 hours covered in topical medication. Mmm-mmm. That's what I call good times. And my question is, who would do the scrubbing and the administering of the cream? And who's going to keep me company? And also, all the bedding and clothing and other linens have to be washed in scalding hot water and hung in the hot sun to dry. Who's going to hang my laundry out on the line? I can't do it. I'll be naked.
What does this have to do with photo albums, you ask? Should photo albums and nakedness really be included in the same post? The answers are no and probably not. Just thought I'd mention the mange. We don't have it. We do have new photo albums, however. And we thought you might like to see them...I find flickr a bit unwieldy (when I'm trying to carry it around). This format is much easier to browse. Some choice photos from the past 10 months are linked to in the sidebar under Photo Albums in three basic groupings (kerala trip aside). Don't worry. There will be no more pictures of scabies in the photo albums. Enjoy. And be glad you don't have to hang your laundry in the hot sun while naked, scalded, itching, and covered in a topical cream.

Kerala photos

2006-06-13T19:41:00.000+05:30

Sunset on the backwaters of Kerala

We're back. Mostly. We arrived in a rather sleep-deprived state this morning on a train that reached Chennai an hour later than it was supposed to...and we stayed in Chennai for the day instead of going back to the farm immediately to avoid any trouble that could be caused by supporters of the political party BJP who have been encouraging strikes around India against rising oil prices. There was supposed to be a strike today in Tamil Nadu, we already hit one last Friday in Kerala, yada yada yada. I'll address that this weekend when I have more time. The point is: the photos are here. In case you've been dying to see them. You can also click on the photo above or the post title if you don't like clicking on the word 'here'. I understand. That's why I've provided options. So there you go. Until the weekend.

Mangosteen countdown

2006-06-03T16:37:00.000+05:30

It's been a good week. Much to my delight, mangosteens grow in northern India, and are findable here in Chennai. I told Lisa I thought we should have a mangosteen-a-day countdown until the time we leave, and so far we've been keeping up, more or less. A little more towards the less, but good enough.
I think the reason why I love mangosteen so much is because it reminds me of my favorite Ben & Jerry's flavor of all time...a sorbet (ice cream's not my favorite thing): Purple Passionfruit Sorbet (flavor graveyard link). It was retired sometime around 1999. It is described on the Flavor Graveyard site as being "A ripe rapturous swirl of raspberry-blackberry and passion fruit sorbets. This deep purple treat made fruit lovers quiver." Everything about it was delightful and enticing: a blend of two shades of purple (raspberry and blackberry) and a cream-colored twist of passion fruit tanginess...that's what the mangosteen is like. The contrast of the purplish-red with the white fruit and the tangy yet sweet taste is more than I can resist.
A true friend once brought me back some Purple Passionfruit Sorbet in a cooler from Idaho when we learned after returning to Utah for school that it was not sold at any location so close to the Rockies. I still don't understand what is was about our location that made it so impossible to get the sorbet made in heaven there. Maybe the presence of the sorbet would have made the Rockies tremble.
There was once a time when I worked at a Ben & Jerry's scoop shop for 2 months or so, and I am still haunted by the memory of the only frozen delight I have ever truly loved.

Da Vinci Code drama

2006-05-22T17:53:00.000+05:30

Lisa was looking up theatre locations for the Da Vinci Code, released in most of the world around the 18th/19th of this month, and found, to her astonishment, that the release date in India is as yet undetermined. Then we recalled a meeting we attended in the church of a friend of ours a few weeks ago (a Protestant church) where a young man who was giving a talk said, interestingly enough, that his friend's faith was shaken after he read Da Vinci Code. Apparently there are quite a few protests being staged by Catholic groups (and other Christian, Hindu and Muslim groups that are supporting them) to oppose the release of the film. We just thought it was funny because it's pretty obvious that neither the book nor the film were a part of Dan Brown's doctoral dissertation on symbology and a Great Conspiracy. It's fiction. Not a cause to be losing faith.
There was a hunger strike started by a Catholic group in Mumbai, and the group's general secretary states that the purpose of the hunger strike was to show the extent to which their feelings have been hurt. Hmm. Somehow I think it doesn't pull as much weight as Gandhi's hunger strike. The strike lasted about 2 days, and they believed their strike to be victorious, though the police did prevent them from burning effigies of Dan Brown.
I have to say that the Christians here seem to have a bit more of a persecution complex than they do in the States, which they may have good reason to hold, since only 2% of India is Christian. Still. Losing faith over the Da Vinci Code? Maybe Christian church leaders in India could point out that the work is fiction and the movie is far from a documentary instead of raising such a scandal about it. Which may result in more people going to see the film (if ever released) out of sheer curiosity.

Another fruity post

2006-05-20T18:54:00.000+05:30

Lisa and I were walking from our quarters to the school last week and saw this jackfruit tree with its enormous near-ripe jackfruit and we were shocked that we hadn't noticed it before. Jackfruit was something we both ate on occasion in Brazil (jaca)...we'll see how it compares. They have jackfruit chips here, which I imagine we'll sample at some point.

I think God must have created jackfruit just to stir things up a bit. Why not create some fruit that's ridiculously enormous? Bigger than La Bamba's bigger-than-your-head burritos? Reminds me of Lisa's story about the pig that ate the horse. Maybe she'll tell it.

Wisdom Teeth

2006-05-14T19:46:00.000+05:30

This is one of the funniest videos from my sister Bebs' wisdom teeth extraction encounter last week. Our family has had some interesting experiences with the drugs the oral surgeon gives us when we get our wisdom teeth out. This has been one of the best so far (and also the only documented experience). To my Bebs: you should never ever use drugs. Extremely dangerous.

Um?

2006-05-13T13:57:00.000+05:30

This is from inside the bus we rode to Chennai yesterday. I'm not sure I understand what they were trying to say, but it doesn't seem like it's anything very nice...

Fruits and Nuts

2006-05-12T23:03:00.000+05:30

For those of you who are interested in fruits (and things) in foreign flaces, I mean places, a post just for you. Apparently there is a variety of mango that even surpasses the mangosteen (both fruits, but nothing like each other) in its divinity. It's been said that we may not want to try a mango in the States again after having this variety. It's a risk I'm willing to take.

So, without further ado, some of our recent fruity experiences:

Fruit vendors at Parrys Corner, fruit all neatly stacked.

Palm fruit. Not very flavourful, but refreshing on a hot day. Tastes a little like tender coconut.

Peanuts. I never had fresh/not-quite-ripe peanuts before I came to India. It makes more sense now why we call them 'peanuts.' Besides having a pod, the fresh peanuts taste a lot like raw peas. They're called 'groundnuts' here.

Litchi. Also known in other places as 'lychee', 'leechee', 'lichee', or 'lichi' (since it's an Asian fruit, and like many names of things transliterated from a completely different alphabet into ours, it has as many spelling variations as you can think up. Almost). The first person to try to persuade me to the joys of lychee was Asiankeng, and I must say she wasn't entirely persuasive. But then, we were eating canned leechee, I believe. Just look at this beautiful litchi, a blushing beauty, in the bloom of youth.

And here, freshly peeled lichee. I was eating lichi this morning and I thought to myself that had I gone into ophthalmology (correct though ridiculous spelling), I would consider practicing surgeries and things using litchi fruits as models. It has kind of the same consistency as an eyeball, except for the big brown cacao bean-like pit in the middle. I guess it looks more like a cataractous eye, being cloudy and all.

Shaved head chic

2006-05-07T17:27:00.000+05:30

There are many reasons that you might see people with shaved heads here: religious reasons, skin diseases, personal preference, lice and so on. But recently there has been a rash of children with shaved heads cropping up in the Chennai area. And I don't mean skin rash children. A greater occurrence...anyway. Apparently there are quite a few children who have their heads shaved in the summertime to ward off summer heat, both girls and boys. I guess hair does get pretty hot. But you won't find me trying to shave my head anytime soon...I learned something from my years of short, red hair: I should not shave my head.

Combing their hair is something of an obsession among the men here. I've been trying to get a picture of a large group of men combing their hair in sync, but I've been unsuccessful so far. They carry their combs in their pockets and comb their hair at traffic lights, on the bus, walking down the sidewalk, etc. Like the men in the U.S. during the 50s. But the men here use coconut oil to grease their hair, and I imagine that men in the U.S. used something like vegetable oil. Or something. Correct me if I'm wrong. And the men here do wear those nice button-down shirts that are so seldom seen on men in the U.S. now, except when they're dressing up. Everyday occurence here. Nice dress shirts with dress pants or a skirt, I mean, lungi...it's casual dress here. That's something it'd be nice to bring back to men's fashion in the U.S. The shirts and pants, I mean. Lungis should only be worn around the house.

*end note: the new background is a picture from the backwaters of Kerala, "God's own country," which we plan to visit in the next few weeks.

Sri Lankan unrest

2006-05-01T00:41:00.000+05:30

Good thing we went and took care of our visa business in Colombo already...a suicide bomber blew up part of the Galle Face Green last week, close to the Galle Face hotel, where Lisa and I spent a few afternoons sipping coconut water, waiting for her new Indian visa. Just a few weeks ago, I advised an American family (who had to leave the country briefly because you can only stay in India for six months at a time on the visas they issue) to go to Sri Lanka instead of Nepal or Singapore, because it's cheaper than Singapore and (supposedly) safer than Nepal right now. Good thing they disregarded my advice and went to Singapore. They would have likely been in Colombo last week at the time of the bombing. Tensions are running a little high with the Tamil Tigers right now.

A fost about Indian English

2006-04-30T23:59:00.000+05:30

I have a little under 3 months left here, and the way I pick up the speech patterns of the people I'm around, I know I'm going to be made fun of when I return to the States. C'e la vie. What can you do? Maybe if I explain some of the funnier things they say here, I can be prevented from some gross errors when I return.

1. F and P confusion. V and W confusion. Many of the Tamil speakers have trouble hearing/saying the p's when they speak English. Which can be really hilarious, if you imagine some of the things they might say: "Your fant is wery nice" (I'll get to v and w in just a minute). "You already had chicken fox?" "You want to go to a beauty farlor?" "You're a big fig." "Fardon me." "I will say the frayer." "Open to the Fearl of Great Frice" (mormons will understand). "Farting is such sweet sorrow." "My favorite color is fink."
The v and w sounds are also often switched, so we hear things like "Will you be awailable?" or "Your woice is wery nice."

2. Use of "take" and "coming" instead of "give" and more specific verbs. For instance, "I will take class now." "Have you taken food?" "Current is coming." "Smell is coming." "Pain is coming." (Also, something is "paining" instead of "hurting". "Aka, my head is paining.")

3. Using a definite article with names and nouns. "I told to the Kaycee and the Lisa about you." Or the conversation I had with student X two days ago:
"X, you need to be nice!"
"I am the nice!"
"You are not the nice!"

4. "Can't able" instead of "can't" or "not able". "I can't able to understand what you are speaking."

5. Adding "Ah" to the end of a phrase to specify a question. When I first came, I found that after I asked a class a question, I had to tell them that it was a question. In Tamil, the easiest way to turn a word or phrase into a question is to add an 'a' or 'la' to the end of the phrase or last word in the phrase. The kids do it often even when they speak English, and I find myself doing the same thing: "You want to watch a movie-ah?"

A lot of strange things they say come from Indian English, like "Give way" or "Way out" or "Dust bin", "Out of station" (instead of "out-of-town), "lorry" (instead of truck), etc. It's hard to distinguish anymore what's strange and what's not. So I'll leave it at that for now.

'Tis the season

2006-04-30T20:17:00.000+05:30

It's watermelon season! You know what that means....mango season is on the way! The watermelon stands along the side of the road are funny...often there will be big round slices of watermelon hanging by strings from the trees, enormous piles of watermelons spread out beneath the trees. I like to think that the watermelon slices hanging by strings serve as a warning to the other would-be rogue watermelons. It could happen that I'm wrong, but that's the way I see it.

As it keeps getting hotter and hotter and hotter and hotter....you get the picture...there are more snakes and scorpions and such lurking around the cooler places. Like the bushes and trees and piles of leaves by our quarters. Last Friday I was in our room, working on a project on my laptop, listening to some tunes, when, in the middle of a Frank Sinatra song I heard a screeching noise that I was sure wasn't Frankie. I looked up at our window to see a snake coiled around the grate over our window eating a frog. It's kind of disturbing to hear a frog scream. But I didn't want to enjoy the spectacle alone, so I ran and got Lisa and the good doctor, and the farm supervisor came along as well. We shared a nice moment looking at the lump of frog in the snake. It was just a harmless green tree crawler snake. Harmless to us, of course, not to the frog.

Sounds

2006-04-14T12:01:00.000+05:30

I'm posting part of a sound clip that's been making us laugh all week. There are two songs by Mason Jennings and one by Guster that I really would like to listen to, except that each song has an instance of an offensive word that I don't care to pollute my mind with. I downloaded a free audio editor last weekend and I edited a couple of songs for my personal use...thought I'd share at least the beginning clip of one of the songs. This is from "Bullet" by Mason Jennings (also posted under 'other sounds'). Maybe Momma can tell us if this is like eating around the turkey poo in a sweetness-itself mango-strawberry-banana smoothie?

Midnight train to Bangalore

2006-04-14T10:54:00.000+05:30

We were supposed to be in Bangalore today for a day of CES teacher training (which CES is fondly referred to by some I know as the 'paid ministry of the church') but a somewhat ridiculous complication arose. No matter. I know that Lisa wasn't particularly looking forward to a six-hour leaving-at-midnight train ride to Bangalore and the return trip the following evening. As I was telling a friend just a few days ago, I've seen quite a few ridiculous things in my time. This one ranks pretty high on the scale of the absurd. The reason we didn't go to Bangalore is because a famous film star died on the 13th. He died of a heart attack, he was 77 years old. No foul play. But riots broke out in the city after his death, and 3 rioting mourners and one policeman were killed when police attempted to control a crowd of 20,000 trying to enter the stadium where the actor's body was being displayed. Access to the stadium was restricted, so of course the mourning fans torched buses and police vehicles, threw stones and smashed cars. And they stoned Microsofts' offices also, because Microsoft probably had something to do with Rajkumar's death. Their offices are close to Rajkumar's house, after all. You can read BBC's report here.
So we didn't go to Bangalore. It's just as well. I had thought of Bangalore as being a generally calm sort of city, but perhaps that's a mistaken notion. Bangalore is known for having a cooler sort of climate, so I wonder what would've happened if Bangalore was experiencing the temperatures we are enjoying in Chennai. I don't realize how hot it really is until I see that foods and lotions and things that I have are turning to liquid at room temperature. My sunscreen no longer remains well-mixed at room temperature, it separates into lipid-soluble and water-soluble components. Chocolate must be kept in the refrigerator. Makes me wonder what's happening to my insides. Maybe I'm liquidizing like my lotions. The point is, I don't think we could've had riots like that in Chennai over the death of an actor. Not at this time of year. It's too darn hot.

Unintelligible

2006-04-02T21:05:00.000+05:30

In our English classes with the children from 5th to 9th grades, I'm reading A Series of Unfortunate Events aloud to them. We choose vocabulary words from the chapters, and the children are supposed to use these words in their own sentences. When I was correcting some sentences a couple of weeks ago, I received this sentence for the word unintelligible: "What ever we'll tell to Mercy she had not having a power to unintelligible."

Something added!

2006-04-02T20:53:00.000+05:30

In lieu of any amusing anecdotes this week (the story behind the new nicknames Lisa and I have is a little too risqué) I posted some amusing video clips (at left, under "Video Clips"). Thought I'd give Google Video a try. Let me know how it works. This could be a great money-making venture for me when I get back to the States...

Meditation

2006-03-25T22:58:00.000+05:30

And now, for your viewing pleasure, "Indian Guy," a nice li'l illustration from my more-talented-than-me evil twin sister (the one who is 8 years younger than me)

Hoarding Billboards

2006-03-18T18:09:00.000+05:30

It's time we say something more about the amusing language differences between American English and Indian English. We are back in India, by the way. We passed the border patrol. This morning ("today morning" in Indian English) Lisa and I rode the bus to Chennai, and as we approached our destination, I saw a billboard that said "Double View Hoarding, call 949..." I wasn't sure if you were supposed to call the number to report someone hoarding double views or to request double views to hoard, so I asked our friend Dr. Susan, who was traveling with us. She said she thought it was the name of the hoarding company. We looked confused, so she clarified: "I think that you call it billboard in the U.S. Here we call it hoarding." Oh. Not so exciting. I would've definitely reported anyone I saw hoarding double views. She also mentioned something that many Americans find amusing when they first get to India: the ubiquitous STD signs. I'm not sure what I thought when I first arrived...why would you want to advertise that? Or is it a warning? STD is actually a type of phone call here--STD stands for Subscriber Trunk Dialing. That's correct: subscriber trunk dialing. It's not special dialing for elephants or dialing from your luggage or dialing only using your stomach or in your swimming shorts or from a tree or any other such crazy notion. I've never really seized the opportunity to ponder on what a versatile word "trunk" is until this morning. Merriam-Webster Online lists 6 different definitions for the word "trunk," four of which I was familiar with. The fifth and sixth definitions, having to do with phone lines, rivers, and major passages, were completely unknown to me. How could I have missed out on the other aspects of "trunk" during all the time I spent reading the dictionary? No use crying over spilled milk...I'm going to try to persuade my brother to name his first son "Trunk." He's the only one I think I can persuade to do that. Trunk Hulet. It has a nice ring to it.

Homage to Mangosteens

2006-03-08T10:05:00.000+05:30

We discovered a new fruit this weekend when we were in Kandy. That sounds a bit presumptuous, doesn't it? As if we were the ones to discover it. The truth of the matter is that the natives discovered it before we did, but we are the ones who shall bring glory to its name!
All pomp and circumstance aside, it's a really fantastic fruit: the mangosteen. Tastes nothing like a mango. How to describe the divinity of the mangosteen? It's a bit like a lychee, with a little taste of pear and strawberry...it's one of the most fabulous fruits we've ever tasted. The texture is so nice and smooth, and the color contrast is outstanding...what can surpass the mangosteen?

The best part about Kandy, one of the ancient strongholds of the land of Lanka, (besides the mangosteen and the confusion about the cell phone) were the botanical gardens. Gorgeous. Especially the giant bamboo and the enormous fig, and the orchid garden.

The Temple of the Tooth, where the Sacred Left Tooth of Buddha is supposedly housed, was nice, but we didn't even get to look at the Tooth. It was in a box in a box in a box...you get the idea. You only get to see the first box. I guess Superman's seen it, anyway. The part we thought was funny was the sign outside the temple that showed a different entrance fee for "foriginers". We figured that meant foreign women, so we paid the fee.

Kandy phone

2006-03-06T13:39:00.000+05:30

We went to Kandy this weekend (we're still in Sri Lanka), and we were given the task of retrieving the cell phone which our friend Jed lost in Kandy last week. A trishaw (autorickshaw/tuktuk) driver, Ranjith, had called Kara and she said he'd found it, so we spent some amount of time trying to find him. We finally managed to track him down at the botanical gardens on our way to church on Sunday. We asked him if he had Jed's phone with him and he said that it was at his house, so we told him to pick us up from church at 1pm and take us to the train station, and to bring the phone.

He picked us up from church, and we asked if he had the phone with him. He said that it was at his house. We asked how far away his house was, and he said that it was fifteen or twenty minutes, so we decided to go to his house first and then to the train station. He seemed okay with that and headed for his house. On the way, he asked us if we'd eaten. We told him not to worry about that, that we had a train to catch. But he still stopped on the way and bought some bananas and cake.

When we arrived at his house, he urged us to come inside and sit down and meet his family. The women all rushed off to the kitchen and Ranjith brought us the cake and bananas to eat. Then Kayc asked if he had the phone, and he jumped up and left the room and came back with a cell phone. The story gets really confusing here. The long and the short of it is that Ranjith and Kara had misunderstood one another. Jed's phone hadn't ever been found. The phone Ranjith brought us to look at was his own cell phone. And he was probably wondering what the heck these weird Americans were doing: asking to come to his house and see his cell phone!
We figured all this out just as his wife and daughters set the dining room table with enough food to feed their large family for two days--and only set two places at the table. We were ushered over to the table and Ranjith personally dished out huge portions of food onto our plates. Then the whole family--about fifteen people--sat in the living room and watched us eat.
The food was really tasty, but it was hard to eat while we were trying not to burst out laughing at the whole situation. We didn't want them to think we were laughing at their food or their home or their hospitality. Poor Ranjith must have been so confused:
"Did you bring the phone?"
"No, it's at my house."
"Oh, how far is your house?"
"About 15-20 minutes."
"Okay, we'll go there first, and then we'll go to the train station."
"To my house? You want to go to my house? Okay. Did you eat yet today?"
"No, but it's okay. We have a train to catch."
Ranjith to himself: "I wonder why they want to see my phone...I guess they want to come for dinner."

At his house: "Here, eat. You don't have to be to the train station until 2:30."
"Okay...so did you get the phone?"
Ranjith to himself: "Oh yeah...they wanted to see my phone. What's so special about my phone? Maybe they need a phone number for their friend..."

We laughed about it all the way back to Colombo.

Bathing with the elephants

2006-03-02T22:35:00.000+05:30

We spent some time chillin' with the elephants of the Millenium foundation today. It's close to a renowned elephant orphanage (Pinnawala) but lesser-known, and therefore fewer tourists. Which we like. And you can actually touch the elephants. So check out the pictures in the photo album. We went with our American Sri Lanka friends, Kara and Jed. Kara and I were treated to an elephant bath (after we first helped bathe her), but Jed and Lisa got even wetter because it started raining buckets when they went..they had opted out of being bathed by Lakshmi (the elephant). Just deserts, I s'pose.

About our elephant friend, Lakshmi: the elephant handler said that she was famous, that she was in Tarzan. I'm assuming he's not talking about the animated version. Does anyone know? Do you recognize this elephant? I probably should have gotten her autograph...

Lisa got the best souvenir: a journal with paper made from elephant dung. It's really special.

Winds of change

2006-03-02T00:29:00.000+05:30

Yes, I changed the format of the blog again. I am also currently looking for an ADD support group who will take me under their wing. While you're marveling over the new format, check out the Mormon name generator link--it's hilarious.

We're (hopefully) going to an elephant orphanage tomorrow to play with the baby elephants, so...keep holding your breath. Pictures will be forthcoming. Cute li'l elephants.

Sure lanka

2006-02-27T21:48:00.001+05:30

We left India on a midnight train to Sri Lanka. Or a plane or something. It's a pleasant flight, really, just about an hour and a half flight from Chennai. We had some visa issues to resolve, so we're chillin' in Sri Lanka for a week. We'll go see Buddha's Sacred Tooth, bicycle along the Dutch canals of Negombo, perhaps scale Adam's Peak. Or just sleep. This is the first Spring Break that either Lisa or I have had since high school. Seems like a nice, friendly place here. As I was boarding the plane, a boy in front of me (who looked to be about 17) asked if I was going to Sri Lanka, which I was, in fact, and he told me that he was from Sri Lanka and it is a nice place. He even found me at customs and gave me his phone number in case I had any questions. *sigh*. It's always the young ones.

In the Bowels of a Bus

2006-02-26T15:18:00.000+05:30

When Kaycee and I came in to Chennai on Saturday morning, we were on the most crowded bus I've ever been on in my life--it even beat out the buses in Brazil, and that's saying something! There are no doors on the buses here, and people were paying 50 paise (about the equivalent of 2 cents) to hang out of the doors and onto the sides and back and top of the bus. We had paid three rupees (less than 8 cents) and were sitting on seats inside the bus. The conductor let us know when our stop came, but with all the people pressing on us, we could barely stand up from our seats, let alone get to the door with our backpacks, etc. Even now, I still don't know how we got off that bus! The people didn't move for us--in fact, there were more people loading on while we were trying to get to the door. But we ended up in the street, sweaty and flustered, and Kaycee turned to me and declared, "We were just excreted off that bus!" and I exclaimed, "Now I know what a turd feels like!" And I'll tell you something else: that bus was constipated!

Ameri-yes-we-cans!

2006-02-17T16:36:00.000+05:30

We were going to run in a 5K race in Chennai last week, and I dreamed that Kaycee and I were in the newspaper with a big picture of us running amongst all the Indians. Well, I wasn't too far off! We went to Nehru Stadium on Friday to register for the race. And we were the only foreigners there! Everyone was starting at us for the three hours that we were there trying to register--it was very disorganized! They tried to give me a shirt that said 10K for boys 10-15yrs, so I marched myself over to the t-shirt booth and pointed out that I was neither 10-15yrs old nor a boy--and they laughed at that and gave me the women's 5K shirt. Anyhow, newspaper reporter came and interviewed us. He seemed a bit disappointed that we were only planning on the 5K, the Chennaites run for peace, but he wrote down our names and why we were in India, etc, etc, etc. We were joking about getting into the paper and possible headlines they might use. My particular favorite was "Ameri-yes-we-cans!" That made us laugh pretty hard--which made us even more inconspicuous than ever.

5k mishap

2006-02-12T22:35:00.000+05:30

Last Sunday was the Chennai marathon. As part of the marathon, there were some other minor races, so Lisa and I thought it would be good fun to run the 5K 'Chennaiite Run for Peace'. So we showed up on Friday (the 3rd) to receive our numbers and such and we were waiting around for almost 2 hours for some unknown reason, as frequently happens here. During that time, some guys would occasionally work up enough courage to come and ask us if we followed a special regime as far as eating, drinking, etc. I guess they all thought we were marathoners. I don't know why you wouldn't think that. We pretty much look like we regularly run marathons.
The story has a funny ending...we were interviewed (briefly) by a reporter with the Deccan Chronicle (we'll post the article later), who gave our names an interesting spelling in the write-up (Kaycee Qhulet and Lisa Houkisson), but we didn't actually end up running the race. We thought the race was on Saturday for some reason, but it was on Sunday, so we skipped out. We live about an hour and a half from Pondicherry (the article says we're in Pondicherry), so I hope no one there is looking for us...still wondering where the Q came from.

Brotherly affection

2006-02-04T19:43:00.000+05:30

Homophobia hasn’t hit

India

yet. At least not this part of

India

. Young men moving in hordes is a common sight, arms slung around each other, holding hands. It’s always interesting to see how newcomers from the States react to the bond of brotherhood shared by the young men here. I’ve had occasion, whilst studying at the Y, to get on my soapbox about how teenage boys in the US can often be emotionally isolated because it’s not generally socially acceptable for boys to be affectionate with each other or share their feelings with each other and so on and so forth. Not the case here. I’ve even seen the security guards at the farm holding hands. Boys’ friendships seem quite free from the paranoia often present in the US. Of course, most of these boys don’t date, which may lead to other problems. Here in the South, classrooms are segregated, boys on one side, girls on the other, and we see similar arrangements in buses, hospitals, churches. I wonder how well men and women ever learn to communicate. Maybe there’s a happy medium?

Humor Therapy

2006-02-04T16:52:00.000+05:30

I can’t believe that I’ve been here for only three weeks. So much has happens in such a short time that everything is getting a bit jumbled, and the days are running together. Every day feels like three days. Kaycee told me that that’s why she keeps lists, but I think she's just a listy person. I prefer narratives, myself.

When we went out on the mobile hospital with Dr. Susan, we saw a monkey sneak across an awning in Sothupakkam and steal a banana from the fruit stand beneath. Dr. Susan told us that she’d come home once to find a large monkey sitting on her dining room table. She said she thought that she surprised him as much as he did her! When he saw her, he ran out the back door.

January 26th was India’s 57^th Republic Day, so there was a “function” in the morning at the school. The whole school assembled outdoors for a flag ceremony. The children marched and sang the national anthem and there was all sorts of pomp and circumstance--they seem to be very fond of that in India. Then the entire school assembled in the music room, with the children all sitting Indian style (no pun intended) on the floor. Then several children gave speeches, some in English and some in Tamil, about the history of the republic and the flag and the political leaders of India. Then the HM (Headmaster) was requested to speak, then “Dr. Madam,” then Kaycee, and then me. Dr. Susan shared a very nice anecdote about how the children could have joy in their lives. J for Jesus, O for others, and Y for yourself. If you put your thoughts and actions in that order, then you’ll have joy. Very nice…I could have done without my speech—as could everyone else, I’m sure. I babbled something about the golden rule and how the children should be kind to one another because they’re the future leaders of India. What could I say, with no prior warning that I'd have to give a speech, and what do I know about India's Republic Day, after all?

Anyway, the funny part was that the HM talked for a solid 45 minutes—and the younger children don’t speak English—and from our vantage point we could see all of the children while he spoke. While he pontificated about the importance of discipline and scholarship, I watched the children. Some kept rolling their eyes and rubbing their hands down their faces, in a perfect expression of utter boredom. Some fell asleep. One little boy in the front row was rocking in a circular motion in his sleep. At one point he collided with the children next to and behind him who were also asleep.

I had to bite the insides of my cheeks and pinch myself on the arm to keep from laughing. I don’t remember a time that I’ve ever been able to hold back when I’ve wanted to laugh so much—quite proud of myself, actually! It’s a good thing too, ‘cause I yawned once, and then I saw at least a dozen children yawn too. If my yawning was contagious, I can only imagine what havoc my laughter might have inspired. I was extra careful not to look at Kaycee—then I’d have lost it for sure!

Wish you happy Pongal!

2006-01-22T22:40:00.000+05:30

Last week we celebrated Pongal along with millions of other Indians. It’s a really big deal, in fact. Lisa and I were in a small shop in the booming metropolis of Sothupakkam last week, and one of the other patrons in the shop asked if Lisa had come to India for Pongal. Someone told us that Pongal is for rural India what Diwali (or Deepawali) is to urban India: the biggest festival day of the year. Luckily I was prepared, having conquered my innate fear of cows a little over a year ago, when I spent a summer running on a trail at Flaming Gorge (Utah) that was frequently overrun with those of the bovine sort. Since I am somewhat of an expert on the subject with my extensive background and experience, I’ll summarize the main points of the festival for you in my own words. In case you'd rather not take my word as a Pongal expert, check out the post title link.
Pongal is a 4-day harvest festival. Pongal means "to boil over" in Tamil, and is the name of a dish made from the first rice of the harvest. Many rites and rituals are observed during these days, each with special significance. The first day is called Bhogi, and on this day old clothes and things are burned in a fire to represent the end of the old life and the beginning of the new. The second day, Surya Pongal, is celebrated by boiling fresh milk in a pot early in the morning until it boils over. The third day, Mattu Pongal, is for offering thanks to the cows and buffaloes, for helping to plough the lands. The last day, Kaanum Pongal, is for people to go out with family and friends.
To me the most interesting (or at least amusing) part involved putting a little cow dung cake in the middle of a kolam and putting flowers in it. I heard that some people make their cows jump over fire and have cow races, but we weren't as brave or adventurous. But we did eat pongal. And sugarcane. That's a good workout for the teeth. Happy Pongal!

Farewell

2006-01-21T23:35:00.000+05:30

Malina left on Monday :( But before she left, she finally bought a sari, so I'm posting these pictures in homage to her. I'll tell you before you thank me, Malina...you're welcome.

Auroville

2006-01-21T23:19:00.000+05:30

This is a bit overdue—we visited Auroville about a month and a half ago. Auroville, Auroville…what to say about Auroville? It’s an “international community” about 10 km north of Pondicherry. Around 2,000 people from different parts of the world live there. It’s a commune that exists to promote world peace, and has been in existence since the 1970’s. Malina and I had a passing notion of visiting Auroville when we discovered quite a lot of handmade paper and paper products that were made in “the international community of Auroville”, and when some friends visited and told us that it was a community to which you must apply for membership, our interest was piqued. It wasn’t as interesting as it seemed. They did have some great paper products, though. I might have been more impressed had I seen the enormous crystal which is housed in a structure called the “Matrimandir” (currently being renovated). Or if they had come close to the goal of 50,000 residents by the year 2000. Or if they made great pies like the Amish. But instead, their water is improved and enlightened by being “sung to” and their tour guide can’t afford to join the community because he doesn’t make enough money. This sign is a good enough summary of our experience in Auroville. Really nice paper. Way out there.

My Favorite Things

2005-12-31T20:16:00.000+05:30

As part of the English classes, the older children write about a topic each week in a journal. One of the topics was "My Favorite Things" and the children opened my eyes to a new--and before unseen--realm of favorites. Here is a sampling from the more normal to the unexpected.

Favorite animal: peacock, lion, dog
Favorite color: red, pink, white, green
Favorite vegetable (they don't eat much fruit here; remember, sugar is bad): lady's finger, eggplant.
Favorite food: rice, rice cakes, dosai
Favorite car: Indigo, Inova
Favorite dress: midi-top, sari, jeans
Favorite movie: Incredibles
Favorite day: Sunday
Favorite pen: Gel, Reynolds
Favorite TV: Panasonic
Favorite planet: earth
Favorite solar system: ours

The Goose is Getting Fat

2005-12-31T20:04:00.000+05:30

Often, the children here sing in English, despite being unfamiliar with some words or not understanding the meaning of many of the phrases. In our choir class and in English classes, we try to clarify some of the confusion. We had sung a catchy little folk song from England a couple times before I had the chance to explain it to the children. You may know this song: "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat. Please to put a penny in the old man's hat. If you haven't got a penny, a hay-penny will do. If you haven't got a hay-penny, then God bless you."

So we explained the hay-penny and the old man part, but then I explained about the fat goose: "In England, people are non-veg and so they feed the goose some corn and grain and then it gets fat and they're excited because they will eat it for Christmas dinner."

You should have seen the grossed out look on the face of one sixth-grade girl! Weird non-veg people.

They recently transformed a big hole that filled with rain water ("boy's swimming pool") into a lotus pond. It's going to be beautiful. But one day, the kids came running up to me and dragged me to the window to see how "the goose is getting fat!" 4 ducks were brought to live in the lotus pond.

Creepy pants

2005-12-09T23:43:00.000+05:30

We couldn't resist posting this. We were at Spencer's Plaza a few weeks ago, and we saw these "creepy pants" (click on the post title for a link to homestarrunner.com 's sb email 'long pants').
Enormous amounts of thanks to those of y'all who received and responded to my mom's request for contributions towards books for the children here. We bought some beautiful books at Spencer's two weeks ago, a book for each child, and there is enough left over for books for the general library. We'll post pictures after the great day, of course.

Flooding in Tamil Nadu

2005-12-09T23:00:00.000+05:30

The rain during this year's monsoon season in Tamil Nadu has been especially heavy, and hundreds of thousands have lost their homes...many have lost their lives. These photos were taken after some heavyish rains. And there's more rain on the way... it's not as bad at the farm, as there are more places for the water to drain. Some of the storms have been terrific (and I mean that in the sense of terrifying)--some of the most intense electrical storms I've seen. We've felt our house shake several times with the intense thunder.

Henna hands

2005-12-09T22:47:00.000+05:30

Just a little sample of our first foray into the fantastic world of 'mehendi'...not bad for our first time, eh? We'll try more complicated designs next time. We did this a few weeks ago--it fades after about 2 weeks.

I am thanksgiving for...

2005-12-06T17:47:00.001+05:30

I had my first meatless thanksgiving. It's been my first meatless a lot of things, in fact, for the past three months. Being vegetarian agrees quite well with me, I think, and I often wonder to myself if I'll ever eat meat again. A typical getting-to-know-you question here is if you're 'veg' or 'non-veg', and almost every restaurant (or hotel...often restaurants here are called hotels). I've already had two creepy dreams where someone is trying to force me to eat a big hunk of tasteless chicken. I never cave, of course. I am a fortress! (my homage to eric ochsner)
Our thanksgiving dinner wasn't too shabby: paratha with a great mix of beets and some lentil-like substance, and mashed potatoes. That's similar to the traditional Thanksgiving dinner, right? Paratha, beets and mashed potatoes? There may not have been any pumpkin pie, but who needs pumpkin pie in a country where pumpkin can be used to make sitars?
In our choir class on the Thursday of Thanksgiving, we explained to the children about the United States' Thanksgiving tradition. Malina and I shared with them some things that we are grateful for, and I encouraged them to think about things that they are thankful for during the day. For the rest of the day, I had children coming to me and telling me "I am thanksgiving for music" or "I am thanksgiving for God" or "I am thanksgiving for Pathway" and so on and so forth. I am thanksgiving also.

Deepavali

2005-11-22T14:22:00.000+05:30

"Deepawali" (or Diwali) is the biggest Hindu festival of the year. The name means "row of lights" and is celebrated in honor of the Hindu god Rama. After defeating the evil Ravana, his subjects lit the way for his triumphant return home with lamps. Today, we celebrate it with small candles and lots of fireworks.

There are traditionally four days of celebration and although we prepared for the holiday for many more days than that, our festivities took place for only one day here at Pathway. The older children had rehearsed their dances for weeks: the girls did a traditional stick dance and some of the boys choreographed two dances of their own, one to Akon's remake of "Mr. Lonely" and the other to a Punjabi song guaranteed to make you dance with its powerful drum rhythms. The children all received new "dresses" or clothes and when we walked in to the hostel that night, our eyes swam in a sea of brilliant colors. The warm night air made our outdoor arena a perfect place to watch the children perform their dances for our guests and for the other children. Then the fireworks began. Because there are no laws about fireworks here in India, it was a really big fireworks show--much bigger than one you could hold at your own house in the U.S. (unless you live in Wyoming). Some of the small children were a little frightened at first but were oooing and aahing by the end. Then all 128 children, plus some of the children from the Centre in Chennai, and all the teachers, staff, and guests formed one giant circle and waved their sparklers gleefully. We ended the night with a late supper and many tasty Deepawali sweets.

jewelry essentials

2005-10-22T17:17:00.000+05:30

Despite my non-girly ways, I've been persuaded that jewelry is a must. We did a little shopping on Monday and bought some bangles and toe rings, but had to hold back on the ankle bracelets (later we realized that was a mistake). Nearly every woman wears many pieces of jewelry: nose ring, earrings (older women wear one with a rod hooked around the top of their ear so their earlobe doesn't hang too low), toe rings, finger rings, ankle bracelets, necklaces, and bangles.

Even the things that could be considered "normal" jewelry are much more exotic here--like the anklet or golusu. They always have bells attached to them. At first we thought we didn't need them, but apparently the staff and teachers thought we did and put them on us. You would think that it would get annoying, but that little jangle makes me feel so happy and beautiful. Everyone else thinks it's just as great. Another benefit is that you can hear when someone (at least a girl) is coming. I can always tell where Kaycee is in the apartment or if she's already fallen asleep or if she sank to the bottom of the ocean (Kaycee says the craziest things sometimes).

Some jewelry indicates your marriage status, like the toe ring. Unless you live in the city where it's okay for college-aged girls to wear them for the sake of fashion, it means you're married. However, things here at the farm are a little more traditional, so when all of the children were asking us if we were married after they saw our toe rings, we decided to save them for our excursions in the city. Likewise, a certain kind of gold chain distinguishes you as a married woman.

Bangles (valayel) are my personal favorite. There are at least two kinds: glass and metal. It was nearly a yoga exercise for our hands before the staff could get them on our arms (several of the kids--and skinny teachers--have been sorely disappointed when they couldn't fit their bangles on our American arms). One child told me in a very serious tone that you have to be careful with the glass bangles that they don't break and cut you. Yikes! The metal ones are probably better in that respect. Each material makes a different sound when they clink together. When kids shake our hands, they sometimes shake them vigorously so they can hear our bangles jangle. Or they'll play with them while we are talking to someone else. Or we'll play with them when we're bored. They're the perfect icebreaker, a way to be close to someone in a non-offensive way, and pretty much the best ever.

Culinary Elves

2005-10-13T08:13:00.000+05:30

Here are three of the guys who work in the cafeteria. They are wonderful and make us laugh despite our lack of a common language. They serve food to the children and to us. They walk around with giant bowls of rice and dish out really big second (and third) helpings of rice that make me wonder where these skinny kids store it all.

The food here is the best. At least, we think it's the best. No sugar--unless you count hot sweet milk once or twice a week as a sweet (one person here refers to sugar as 'poison.' Such a healthy society, no?); no meat: we're 'veg' here at the farm--every one in India is either "veg" or "non-veg" and seems to know the food preferences of everyone else; lots of rice or chapatis and lots of vegetables. They make everything so tasty and who would've guessed that a small cup of beans or lentils would be the most satisfying snack ever. Or that your lips could burn for so long after eating the spicy food. Or that you would get heart-shaped chapatis.

Yoga babies

2005-10-10T11:32:00.000+05:30

A little mid-day pranayama...

Rule #7

2005-10-10T11:00:00.000+05:30

Think twice before befriending your autorickshaw driver :)

Eating beautifully

2005-09-20T00:00:00.000+05:30

This is one of the smallest boys at the farm. He sits close to where we sit at meal times, and lately he has taken to making faces at us while we eat. We, of course, make faces back. A few days ago (after we had learned to eat correctly with our hands), he said something in Tamil, and the boys at his table kind of laughed, and a teacher passing by told us that he had said that we eat beautifully :)

Speaking of meal time, we had a treat the other night...we don't often have fruit at meals, so we were pleased to see a plate with sectioned guava on it at our table. There was a red powder sprinkled all over the guava. Cayenne pepper, of course, what did you expect? Try it some time, it's quite delightful.

A note from myself

2005-09-18T23:39:00.000+05:30

I received this note from myself...or so it seems. I really don't know who it's from, but it's word-for-word the note I gave to them, I'm sure. Adorable.

We've posted some new photos, which you can see by clicking on the photo album link in the sidebar. We decided to upload each week's photos when we're in Madras and have access to a faster internet connection. Thanks for all your comments! Remember us in your prayers, we need all the help we can get :)

A note

2005-09-18T23:29:00.000+05:30

This post is really for the benefit of my mother, so she can see how the children appreciate my "buttful" music, dance and games :) This is from one of the 2nd or 3rd graders, who will remain anonymous for obvious reasons.

p.s. aka means 'older sister' in tamil

Ten billion notes and a frog

2005-09-16T15:57:00.000+05:30

Note writing has blown into ginormous proportions. I thought Girl Scout camp would've prepared me a little for the note exchange between us and the kids. Then again, maybe not. We've received so many notes. Every night, we come home with a stack of letters to read. Last night, since it was the eve of Kaycee's birthday, she received soooo many letters that it took her an hour to even read them all. The English is great and sometimes makes us laugh. If the child is very small, their notes often consist of parts they copied from our notes to other children or previous notes we gave them. That means that sometimes they tell us we are a "very nice boy" or they'll say, "Kaycee and I are very happy to be here at Pathway.' A little identity confusion perhaps? We respond to all of them. We fold them in nifty ways that we learned back in junior high and put stickers on the front. Some of the children are very sweet and when they write us back they reuse the sticker for our new note. Since we don't know the younger kids' names yet, it's hard to know who to deliver the note to, but the older kids act as our delivery service.

It took Kaycee more than four hours (and she's still not finished) to respond to all the notes. Our brains are spinning trying to think of ideas to get them to stop writing notes. We thought it would die down today, but not so. I received eight notes from one girl alone. We said we weren't going to read the notes tonight when we got home (since it already consumed most of our day), but I think Kaycee's addicted. She just read a bunch more. Kaycee just told me of her idea that I take over all the correspondence. She's got a death wish. Today I had some of the older kids help me pass out our reply notes so I wouldn't be so swarmed. Dangerous work here. :) I was putting some notes I had received in the back pocket of my pants and one of the smallest girls kept reaching in trying to get them. I think we'll have to set up some type of pen-pal system with the kids in my mom's elementary school (what do you think of that idea, Mom?)

Oh, by the way, here's a tidbit just for laughs. Some of the kids, I'm not sure who thought of it first, think I look like this Indian movie star named Jodie. They taught me this little song about her and when I sing it, the kids (especially one boy) laugh so much. Do you think all this curry and vegetarian food could have made me look more Indian? It's a flattering thought anyways.

Well, I need to go remove a frog from the kitchen for my dear friend Kaycee. So that's it for now.

(actually posted by MALINA)

The grapevine

2005-09-16T15:56:00.000+05:30

They all share everything, and I mean everything. If we ever teach one child one thing or tell them one bit of information, pretty soon all the kids are asking us to teach them or tell them that same thing. How they find out, nobody knows. If we fold a note a new way, a lot of notes come folded that way. If we sing one child a new song, they all ask to hear that song. For example, one day we told the older girls in choir that we would be singing "Kumbaya" and later that evening a boy asked us if it was true. We said, "Yes" and asked him how he found out. He said that his younger brother had told him. How he found out, nobody knows. They remember everything! On our first day here, we went to each classroom with the director and the headmaster (or principal for you Americans) and they would ask the children if they knew who we were. They all knew (even the kindergartners), and they said our names out loud and pointed to the correct person and what subjects we would teach. Later, when we toured the computer lab, we discovered that our photos had been saved as wallpaper on the computers. They all knew our birthdays within the first couple days. Even things I don't remember telling anyone, they remember.

(actually posted by MALINA)

Angel children

2005-09-16T15:52:00.000+05:30

Things here are going really well. Kaycee's talked a lot already about the cultural differences that we love. We've also been doing some investigation about arranged marriages (not for ourselves, of course--we are both twenty-five and happily unmarried). The relationships between boys and girls are a little different. Things are more segregated and we've learned that these separations are even more rigid in other schools where the children don't live together. For example, in the classroom, boys sit on one side and girls on the other. They are also very disciplined. They stand up when we walk in the room and say "Good Morning Madam" and won't sit until you give them permission. They also stand to answer a question. It's all very different than the American school systems; probably more like the Asian schools--which would be logical since we're in Asia. Some of these kids are geniuses--talented in so many areas: drawing, science, math, English...

Some of these children are not really children. They are more caring and less self-centered than your average child (or so we think, but hey, we've never had children). They are concerned if we've eaten, if we're too hot, if we're happy. They are teaching us so much. They are so eager to learn and we wish we could give them all individual time and be their older sister in every sense, but with 120 children, it’s difficult. We're still sorting out how to do that. God will provide a way.

(actually posted by MALINA)

Back in junior high

2005-09-13T19:28:00.000+05:30

We have become unabashed note-writers. Children pass notes to us at all times of day, sometimes pressing the note somewhat clandestinely into our hands, or they send a messenger to deliver the note, if they are a bit more shy. I'm not sure I wrote this many notes even when I was in junior high, when girls hit that mysterious secret note-writing age. We'll have to post a picture of some of the notes (or maybe just the a picture of the growing pile). A lot of them say funny things like "open with simile" or "don't sad, happy!"
My voice is getting much better. I'm trying to rest my voice, but it's difficult to remain mute...it helped that I had about 120 children praying for my voice to get better.
Even though we've been here only a week and a half, both Malina and I feel that it seems longer than that. It's amazing how well you can get to know people in a short time when you are spending 12+ hours a day together.
We want to ask a favor: the children are always begging to learn new games, especially the younger children. We haven't started music classes for the younger children yet, so the only time we spend together is on the playground. Will you, readers of our blog, post your favorite childhood (or even current!) games as comments? We've taught the older kids the cup game, some of the trust games you play in junior high, and mafia, and for the younger kids we've taught them Big Cookie (instead of Big Booty...we didn't want to explain booty to them), red light, green light, freeze tag, the hokey pokey, and we'll do things like kickball, kick the can, simon says, the bunny hop, the sign game, queen elephant, etc. But if any of you have suggestions for games that children love, for any of the age groups between 4 and 16 years, we would appreciate it!
Much love to all of you---

Out in the boonies

2005-09-13T19:26:00.000+05:30

I love living here because we have just enough contact with the city, but we still have our bonding with nature time. Like the other night when the security guards were walking us back to our quarters and we saw a small python, a small cobra and a scorpion. The guards carry big sticks with them to smash snakes and scorpions with, so we were party to the death of a few animals. We've also encountered a large poisonous centipede and some squirrels that we suspect may be dangerous. Just kidding about the squirrels, of course. We're really quite safe, and our resident frogs and geckos protect us from those roguish mosquitoes.
Oh, and finally, after a week of doing it the wrong way, we've learned the correct way to eat with our hands. Before, we were trying to just ball up some rice with vegetables and drop it into our mouths, but you actually put the food on your four fingertips and then push it in with your thumb. So much easier! And when they drink, they just pour it into their mouths--their lips don't touch the cup. That's not so difficult--what we need to work on is speed drinking: gulping down our water while pouring it in from a (short) distance.

Church in Chennai

2005-09-13T19:14:00.000+05:30

I meant to write about our first experience attending church in Chennai (a week ago). For those of you not familiar with the LDS Church, it is divided into congregations known as wards (usually around 200+ members) or branches (smaller congregations). In Chennai, there are two branches, and our branch president in the Chennai 1st branch is Korean, speaks no Tamil. Most of the members of the branch speak some English, but not all do, so the meetings are a mix of Tamil and English. On the first Sunday of every month, members of the church fast for two full meals and donate the money they would have used for those meals (or more if possible) to a fast-offering fund that goes to help people who don't have enough money for food. This Sunday, the first Sunday of the month, is known as Fast Sunday, and during church meetings, our main meeting is called Fast and Testimony meeting, and whoever desires may go up to the front and speak about spiritual matters.
I tried so hard not to laugh. I was almost successful. As the time for the meeting to end was drawing near, a man in the front made a motion to get up and speak (after the current speaker ended), but our branch president saw him and made a finger-drawn-across-the-throat motion to indicate that there wasn't enough time for him to speak. The man held up one finger, to say he only wanted a minute, and they went back and forth several times making these hand signals. It was hilarious to me at the moment, like I was seeing some two-person version of the New York Stock Exchange. Even funnier is that this man had made a motion to get up to speak a little earlier in the meeting, but the branch president saw that a woman who is a recent convert also started to get up, and so the b.p. motioned for the man to sit down and for the woman to come up. Anyway, after about a minute or so of negotiations, the current speaker sat down, and the branch president allowed the man to come up. When he started to go over his time, however, the branch president's counselor, who was conducting the meeting, stood up behind the man and hit him in the leg with his folder. Malina and I were dying trying to hold in our laughs, to the point where we were both crying. I hope the others just thought we were overwhelmed by the meeting...

Kolam

2005-09-11T14:33:00.000+05:30

This design, made using rice flour or a fine white mineral (they call it kolam soil) is a kolam. In previous times it was done in front of your house to keep the ants away, the idea being that the ants would be attracted to the rice flour and stay away from your house. Now it is apparently more ornamental than functional. This one we found in front of a house in Chennai (Madras).

The last few days...

2005-09-09T18:19:00.000+05:30

Where have we been, you ask? We had every intention of making several posts this week so we wouldn't have event pileage, you know, events piling up so that it becomes nigh unto impossible to address everything that has happened. Alas and alack...that is exactly what has happened. I'll try to say a few things, at least. The farm is a wonderful place. We have a little house with a bedroom, bathroom (with flush toilet and European-style corner shower), kitchen, enclosed outdoor laundry area, washing machine, refrigerator, tv, and a few little froggy friends. The doctor's house and the medical center are just across from us, and there are security guards posted close to our home. We amuse the guards each night as they walk us home from the school (about a 7-minute walk) with our new and improved vocabulary words in Tamil (they speak no English).
There are 120 children here, and I think both Malina and I have learned the names of around 50 or so already...one of their (many) favorite games is 'what's my name? what's my name?' so it helps us learn their names. The children live here in dormitories, and though it's been described as an orphanage, most of the children have at least one parent, and all of them have extended family that could take them in if necessary. Parents are allowed to visit occasionally, I believe. The school is grades K through 12, but the oldest student is currently in 9th grade (they call it 9th standard)-the farm was only started 4 years ago, but soon they'll have children in all grade levels. We met with all the children from grades 4 to 9 individually at the beginning of the week, and choir rehearsal started on Thursday. We'll also be teaching piano/keyboard to the older students, music classes for the younger students, staff, and teachers (individually, of course), and English classes for the children, teachers and staff. Oh, and we brought rain to the farm. My dad and I used to joke that I take rain with me wherever I go. They had hit a dry spell before we arrived, but it has rained every day since last Friday afternoon.
It has been a wonderful week...the children drink in everything we teach them. Many of them are extremely talented, but they are all kind and generous and need attention. We are mobbed by children wherever we go.
The unfortunate part of this week is that I've had a bad sinus infection, and I guess that a sinus infection along with using your voice frequently for 14 hours can have dire consequences...my voice became gravelly on Tuesday, but today it's completely gone. Just a little whisper. I'm on medication now, hoping for any kind of voice by Monday.

Cell phones for the upwardly mobile

2005-09-02T07:43:00.000+05:30

As far as cell phones go, India is where it's at. No contract, no stingy time allotment per month, and even better, it can be used cheaply to make international calls, or for an internet connection in a rural area. We bought one last night. The slogan at the cell-phone store, "cell phones for the upwardly mobile" struck me as slightly ironic and amusing, as we had been conversing during the evening about education, marriage, and the limits placed on you by your caste in India.
We went out again last night, though we unfortunately we were unable to make it to the Bollywood film shooting that Bollywood star X's father invited Malina to...we went to get some suitable clothes for the farm, some salwar kameez. So far, in my extensive and exhaustive 3-day's knowledge of driving in Chennai, I haven't seen much road rage...it's this give-and-take, well-oiled machine, a living organism that I can't understand yet. Is it obvious that I'm fascinated with Indian driving? We nicked a bicyclist yesterday, a little nudge on the side, bumper-car style, not hard enough to knock him off, I guess, but a good jarring. A few minutes later we passed him and our driver gave a friendly, apologetic honk, and the man looked over and gave us an award-winning smile and wave. There's a sunny disposition for ya.

Men in Skirts

2005-09-01T12:58:00.000+05:30

My older brother and I (look, Kent, you're famous!) have had a long-standing discussion on American masculinity. I have insisted that some of the manliest men in the world wear dresses and skirts without any apparent threat to their masculinity. A few cases in point: Polynesians, Scots, Africans, ancient Greeks, Romans, and Egyptians. Add South Indians to the list of men who who wear skirts. Last night I went to a Hindu wedding reception (gorgeous!) with the Prasads. Traffic was bad--it took 45 minutes to arrive there--but I think I'm already starting to get the rhythm of the way Indians drive. It's chess-like, but much quicker, constantly scheming, planning, shoving your car into any available space. Your reflexes must be cat-like and your brakes reliable. On the way to the reception, I noticed that many men were wearing what is known as a lungi (see link), which is a piece of cloth wrapped around the waist. In other words, a wrap-around skirt. I tried to nonchalantly ask the Prasads what the man-skirt was called, first asking if there was a name for the piece of fabric that some men had wrapped around their waist, and they said "a tunic?" and some other suggestions. So I said "...no...more like a skirt or something," and they laughed at me. A few other notes on driving and vehicles: traffic on the roads is this amazing amalgam of cars, auto-rickshaws (3-wheeled cars), rickshaws, scooters, motorcycles, bicycles, cows, no lanes, few cops, crazy, crazy, crazy. And I like it. Near-death experience, but I am kind of a thrill-seeker. Malina mentioned the 1956 model of the Ambassador, mostly used by government now. We see it everywhere. We'll post pics as soon as we procure a digital camera. Another thing that Indian cars have over American cars: back-up music. We were backing up the car last night, and it started playing "My Heart Will Go On" and I laughed. "The cars in the States, they don't have back-up music?" Chandra asked.
No, they don't have back-up music.

All Smiles

2005-09-01T12:09:00.000+05:30

So I finally arrived--safe and all in one piece. In LAX, I waited for a long time, read, and watched the other travelers. On they way to Frankfort, I sat next to a young German girl. I thought she (and all the other Germans) were American at first. They probably all thought I was German (at least the Brasilians did when they defeated Germany in a World Cup game). We got out a Frankfort and due to my lack of sleep, I felt pretty crummy. About half an hour later, we reboarded the plane and flew to Mumbai. This time, I had three whole seats to myself so I sprawled out (as much as you can on a plane) and slept a lot. I felt really good after that. In fact, I still feel pretty good. I made some friends with some of the women when we were waiting to go to Hyderabad. Both were living in LA and going home to visit family. They were very sweet and helped me out. Then I had a great seat companion on that flight. His name is Raj and he told me about his family. He was going to visit his daughter who is a very famous movie star here in the south. He told me, in hushed tones, that she was working with the most famous actor and that her name would be everywhere in about 2 weeks. When he told me he was going right to the movie set, I was very excited (I've really wanted to go to a Bollywood set) and he invited me. His daughter got into the business because she is very beautiful and now it's a family affair. He handles the finances, the mom is the physical trainer, and the youngest daughter is the costume designer! He was very kind and gave me his (and his entire family's cell phone numbers) and told me to call if I ever need anything. All his "people" (his relatives) still live in Chennai and if he couldn't come from Bombay, they could help me. He also invited us to visit him. He coaches tennis at summer camps each year at UCLA and in New York. I told him a little about the church- although he had never heard of it, and we talked a little religion- mostly about families and common values. We also chatted about orthodox Jews- they fascinated him in New York. So he waited and walked me outside- which was very nice considering all the unwavering stares from hundreds of Indian men (just like Mowgli) and then I saw Kaycee's bright, white, shining face! Not hard to spot in that crowd. So, read Kaycee's comments about the driving. They do have some really great old-fashioned cars. They're modeled after a 1956 British car. Oh, Sarah- we flew over Manchester (it was pretty, but I didn't see any castles from the air--just a really big river). The kids here are so beautiful--they all do this cute salute and say "Good Morning"! So adorable. They do such good work here: medical clinic, occupational therapy, physical therapy, vocational therapy, silkscreen shop, bakery, etc. They even have a garden on the roof! Anyhow, better get going. We're going to buy supplies and all that.

Travel adventures

2005-08-31T10:34:00.000+05:30

It's a long trip from D.C. to Chennai...luckily my seat companion on the D.C. to Paris flight was a charming woman originally from Morocco who speaks English, French, and Arabic, and trains young diplomats in the D.C. area. She helped me with my French (I know, what French? She helped me with pronunciation, anyway) and in navigating the Charles de Gaulle airport, and we had some lively conversation about religion. I also met, on my 45-minute journey from my arrival terminal to my connecting flight terminal, a man who works for the United Nations in public health issues. He was on his way to Cairo, which I believe he said is the new headquarters for the UN for Mediterranean nations. He began his career as a physician and later decided that he wanted to work in public health, and said that pursuing a joint degree in medicine and public health is a smart career choice. We had some brief discussion about what I was doing in India, etc. and then he told me that I seem like a very good person, and then he told me to be careful, in a very ominous tone. We may cross paths later, as he said, if my plans pan out.

It was very apparent I was in a different country as soon as I disembarked from the plane. I entered a bathroom at the airport and found there were several people camped out for the night. Somehow I missed out on getting the immigration form we were supposed to fill out, and then I filled out the wrong form (I was really only semi-conscious at the time), so I was transferring some information to another form, and the customs official said "you write with your left hand?" as if it's unheard of to use your left hand to write...got through customs and then three of us walked through an unmanned metal detector next to a "mandatory carry-on x-ray screening" machine, also unmanned, but no one even glanced at us as the metal detector was going off, so I imagine that security isn't among their chief concerns at the Chennai airport.
Dr. Prasad and his wife Chandra met me at the airport, and we drove back to Pathway's Centre for the Mentally Handicapped. I imagine there must be some road rules, but it seems to involve whoever honks or flashes their lights enough being the one with the right of way. None of this polite waiting-of-turns at a four-way stop...it seems, in fact, that the few stop signs that exist are treated as suggestions, and even driving on the wrong side of the road when a barrier divides the road is fair game if your car can fit between the two trucks coming toward you. A lot of what I've seen so far, which isn't much, reminds me of Brazil. It's going to be great. Most of the staff at Pathway don't speak English, but they smile a lot and bow. I'm going to master the head bobble before I return to the States.
Malina arrives tomorrow, and then we'll make our way to the farm. I was concerned about being able to find and learn local folk music to incorporate into the children's music education, so that we're not just teaching the children Western-style music, but Dr. Prasad has promised to introduce me to a few people who can help.

The Pathway AgroFarm for Children

2005-08-27T19:15:00.000+05:30

A (very) little background information on our project at the Pathway AgroFarm: we will be working with the children at an orphanage in southeastern India over the next year. Our chief concern is teaching music and organizing and leading a children's choir that will eventually be able to perform internationally. There is a medical centre at the farm and a need for English teachers as well, so I'm sure that we'll have our hands full. I leave for Chennai on Monday evening, Malina leaves on Tuesday, and we shall find ourselves both in India on Thursday if all goes well!
The farm is on 65 acres of land, and as far as I know, they cultivate rice, mango, banana, and coconut in addition to many vegetables. Whatever food is not used by the orphanage is donated to surrounding communities. The nearest village is 4 km away, and the farm is about 90 km west of Chennai (formerly Madras). It is located in the Kancheepuram district, renowned for its beautiful silks and ancient Hindu and Muslim temples.

left-handed awkwardness

2005-08-23T09:54:00.000+05:30

so we all know that Indians eat with their hands- with their right hand to be precise. hope us lefties don't screw it up or cause social pandemonium with our filthy western ways.

last minute panic

2005-08-13T14:11:00.000+05:30

two weeks until we leave, and my doctor tells me he wants me to be vaccinated against typhoid, meningitis and japanese encephalitis. I'd have to say that suffering weakened forms of several diseases is not my favorite thing in the world...what I really need to do is find a way to persuade the mosquitoes that I'm not very tasty.