Muffler burn, 7 restaurants, and the Ganges

This past weekend I went on an adventure with a couple dear friends to Rishikesh. We left early Saturday morning with minimal planning and huge outlooks. This may have been due to the fact that we had a native male, Anwer, in our group to navigate, translate, and protect our white girl selves. It was very satisfying to know that we would not encounter the same problems our other friends had experienced on their outings: getting ripped off, not knowing where the bus was, or just being confused. We were golden.

We took a cab around 6 am from Woodstock to the bazaar to catch a bus. We soon decided a cab to Dehardun would be a better option. Shortly after we were in Dd and hopped on a bus to Rishikesh. By 10:30 we were in Rish. We were quite hungry due to not eating breakfast before we left, so we stopped for brunch at an over-priced white people hot spot (restaurant 1). We began to wander around the city. Lots of ideas were being thrown out in the air. One idea was renting a motorcycle for the day. While this seemed like an awesome idea, I never imagined it to take hold. I was simply along for the ride and had no needs for the trip.

 The view from the back of our hotel-no big deal.

Anwer began to do most negotiations without our presence. This could have been due to the fact that white people scream: rip me off. Or maybe he thought we were the most useless negotiators or decision makers in India. It’s hard to say. This approach worked well. We soon had a hotel room for 400 rupees (~$8), a rented motorcycle for the day 500 rupees, and a plan for the day: cruise around and laugh at pedestrians, ha. 

We began cruising along the Ganges and enjoying the view. Well, the fun was about to stop. We cruised by a police force on the side of the road and heard a whistle blow. I was like, oh crap, the white people aren’t allowed on motorcycles. Oh no, turns out that you can’t have three people on a bike. Even though I had seen way more than three people on several bikes and mopeds, and Anwer never mentioned this when we were planning. I didn’t even know there were laws in India for crying out loud. 

 Note the Background

Well soon into this encounter, when I realized I wasn’t going to get deported, it became incredibly comical. Anwer was smooth talking his way out of the situation and apparently giving advice to one of the officers about his son’s schooling. 100 rupees later we were free. Right when we were about to depart, another group of white suckers got pulled over for the same thing. They probably ended up paying much more money for their stupidity. We drove on.

After awhile, we decided we needed real lunch. We cruised around and finally found a spot. As traffic in India is a cluster, our pulling in on the sidewalk was a bit of a jumble. The result was me getting burnt by the muffler of the bike. We ate a lovely amount of India cuisine as my leg was sizzling skin off. We cruised around a bit more, made some stops, and ended at the Honey Hut (restaurant 3). There’s really no American equivalent to this place. It had tons of treats, coffees, and sold clothes. The workers all sported NY Yankee baseball caps. I didn’t hold it against them because it was such a cozy spot to hang out. We had some shakes, smoothies, and coffee. We carried on our way. We did some more driving around and more photo stops. We did some more window shopping and stopped for sodas at the Yellow Pepper (restaurant 4). It was obvious that the heat was taking a bigger toll on us than imagined due to our previous damp world. We were dehydrated and sun burnt. We had some lime sodas and enjoyed more glorious views. 

 Life on a motorcycle in India

We sat on some stairs in the Ganges. We watched men break rocks. We watched people. We had more tea (restaurant 5), and enjoyed more glorious views. Linds got her palm read, bought an elephant, and asked how much everything was. Then we had dinner at Lucky Restaurant (restaurant 6). This was the restaurant of the hotel. At this point of the day, we were covered in sweat and filth from driving around the mountains all day. We did some hosing off and enjoyed one final bike ride and Ganges stair sitting before returning the bike. Then we ended the night with a stop at Café Coffee Day for treats (restaurant 7). In what was a coma of exhaustion and food overload, we rested well listening to the sound of the Ganges just a stone’s throw away. 

Another day in the life…

As my life becomes more enjoyable, easier to laugh at, and slightly less stressful, I find it appropriate to give another glimpse at the joys and sorrows of life in Mussoorie.

I’ll take the oreo cookie sandwich approach. This is a teaching method in which you surround negative with positives to make a situation appear better despite its awful appearance.

A blessing fell from the heavens today. I had been having some difficulty with my sixth grade class. Let me paint the picture for you. I have both sixth grade sections at one time. That means 36 students in the gym at one time. Without knowing names, language abilities, or personality clashes, this class has been my constant battle. It takes every ounce of energy I have to maintain a class that is not absolute chaos and madness. Hearing that other people had concerns with the 6^th graders eased my pain slightly, but it didn’t make it less stressful. After calmly, or quite directly, stating my concerns at a junior school staff meeting, an angel has come to help me along. It was decided that we would take out nine of the kids at a time to do the rock climbing wall with one of the rock climbing staff. This man will add a year to my life, and he has no idea. This does however create a whole new problem. Now, I will have nine kids missing class material every day. Awesome. So life goes on.

My schedule in the senior school has remained less than ideal. By a freak chance of nature, I saw one class for the first time today and had to assess their soccer skills. Umm, what. The third week into school should not be a time for first meetings. Thanks Woodstock.

The monsoon varies from easy peasy to are you kidding me in seconds. Every now and then the monsoon slaps me in the face for my “easy peasy” thoughts. For example, this morning the rain was horrible. I had gymnastics club at 7:15. I planned on getting to school early to do a bit of work before it, but then I saw the rain. I had little hope that anyone would show up for gymnastics, but I pressed on anyway. I wore sandals, my rain coat over my backpack, shorts, and carried an umbrella. I was preparing for battle, and the rain won. I felt like I was on the Oregon Trail fording rivers left and right. I kept fearing that I would lose an oxe or worse my backpack down one of the streams. I even had to go the long way because there was so much rain pouring down the stairs of death.

While it’s been raining on my parade and my schedule has been craptacular, I have been finding peace and joy in many things here at Woodstock. As mentioned, the people here are some of the most amazing people to grace this planet. I’m beginning to pick out favorite students, and I hope I’m becoming someone’s favorite as well. The cross country team, despite its lack of consistency or care, brings a smile to my face and calmness after a long day. Every now and then we even see the sun at the top of the mountain where we run. It’s almost as if God’s giving me a reward for trekking up the mountain after a morning workout and six classes of teaching.

The gymnastics clubs have been bringing me other kinds of happiness. I had left the field long ago, but I have found myself in a situation to give these kids an outlet that they need. I teach junior school after school on Tuesdays with some senior school “helpers,” and I teach senior school club before schools on Tuesdays. These kids want to learn everything. Can I teach you how to do a flip? Well, let’s focus on a cartwheel first pal. Let’s try flips maybe next year…  

What are you looking at?

My Indian Independence

A group of Midwestern folk (with the exception of our coastie friend Rebecca) celebrating India's Independence.

Jay, Me, Linds, Katie, Rebecca, Ingrid, Jason

It doesn't get much cuter than this.

 

The 15th of August, normally celebrated as move-in day in Madison was instead celebrated as a day of feasting and celebrating at Woodstock School.

Indian Independence day brought a day off from school with an assembly and huge food buffet. Unfortunately it rained on our buffet, almost as bad as raining on a parade, but the giant tarps over the quad saved us and our feast.

A day in the life

To truly understand this place, you need to live it.

I wake up most mornings around six and head on about a 15 minute hike straight up the mountain to the gym. Depending on my workload, I either hit up the fitness room for about an hour, or I plan. Every Wednesday, I have fitness room duty from 6:30-7:30 am. Every Tuesday, I work with the senior school gymnastics club. After my workout, I shower and start prepping. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I go to the senior school assembly from 8:30-9. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I go to the junior school assembly from 8:30-9. Being a "special," means I get the best and worst of both the senior school and junior school.

I begin teaching senior school at 9 am. Most of my junior school classes are after lunch. In the 6 period day, I have 5-6 classes every day. On all days, except one, I have at least an hour for lunch, which is a nice luxury when teaching six full classes a day. School ends at 3:45. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, I help coach cross country. On Tuesdays, I teach junior school gymnastics. Then depending what my energy level is, there is staff gym night on Mondays and Weds from 6-8.

Three times a week, I return home to a nicely cleaned home from our ayah (maid). She also cooks for us twice a week. The only trouble is we're never home when she's there, and we have difficulty communicating with her. Even if she is just coming to fix my bed, it's still a nice luxury.

Evenings are filled with various social gatherings with the staff. Most nights are very relaxed and just involve pep talks to each other and venting. I have been truly blessed with knowing some amazing people here. We keep each other going when things seem to be hitting an Indian wall.

Some of the best advice I've gotten since arriving:
You can fight India, but it will fight back. It will fight back, and it will beat you down.

I find myself experiencing this fight often. There are rules and behaviors here that I simply don't understand.

While it's nice to be looked at and adored, constantly feeling like a parade whenever I'm in the bazaar is getting tiresome. Maybe it's because I sport my neon shoes, bright headbands, and white girl attitude.

My days are full of highs and lows.
10th grade boys soccer-low
10th grade girls fitness room-high
1/2 PE-high
6th grade unruly PE-low
8th grade racquets-eh
eating various sauces in various colors-eh
living a life of pe-high
working with students who are passionate about life, academics, and sports-high
having the best roomies India can offer-high
getting to walk down the mountain at the end of a long day seeing a clear sky and city lights at the bottom-high