waking up in India

the sound of what I'd compare to crickets, dogs barking, and the sounds of children in the distance... I don't hear or notice the honking horns anymore.

I never imagined my life to be like this when I moved to India. I'm still not even sure I'm in India.

There are plenty of things about my life that are nearly the same as my American life:
I depend heavily on the internet, and I manage to waste plenty of time on it.
I get to eat ice cream and cheese to a slightly excessive extent.
I hang out with friends, eat out, and watch an illegally downloaded movie from time to time.
I walk around wearing Under Armour wishing they would sponsor me and my Physically Educating lifestyle.

Things that are so very different from my previous life:
I spent my Saturday hiking around the mountains with 5th/6th graders. The car ride back was radioless but filled with 6th grade boys belting out Justin Beiber hits.
I have to put my favorite things in a closet with a light bulb so they don't get moldy.
I have to pretend to pick up and throw rocks at monkeys on walks to school and hope they don't call my bluff.
I have to teach kids of all ages how the classic game of kickball works.
I keep my short-shorts in a drawer and only wear them in the comforts of my own home.
I can't avoid running uphill.
People stare at me (and not just in the oh my god, what is Shannon wearing today kind of staring). Some want to take my picture. Some want to hold my hand in said picture.
I live about 800 meters from many of my students. I get all of my groceries delivered to my home.
I also have a nice woman who cleans my house and cooks for me a couple times a week.
I live and work in a place that is more gossipy and small town than my hometown of Silver Lake, MN (pop. 761).
I go out to the bazaar and am guaranteed to see students, staff, employees, and be recognized by the local tailor who is dying for my business. The grocer knows my name, where I live, and the cornflakes I like.

trying to stay afloat in a monsoon

Sometimes, I talk about India like it's my arch-nemesis. The final straw was when I was walking home from a slightly unpleasant dept meeting that lasted from 6-about 8pm on a Thursday night. I was minding my business, listening to my ipod, and out of nowhere, my ankle rolls on the footpath. I wanted to scream out, "F*** YOU INDIA!"

A few weekends ago, I was looking for a different outfit to head out to the bazaar in. As I was rummaging, I started to find moldy clothes. A moldy cardigan, a moldy bra, and my black boots were even growing cultures. FU India.

Just yesterday, my roommate pointed out that my graduation photo album was also growing mold. FU India.

Anytime I'm out walking in the bazaar, and I keep hearing endless honking... FU India.

When did this become normal?

Last night I was walking home from the bazaar with Linds and Ingrid, and I was like, hold the phone. We were walking on a single lane road on the side of a mountain with no lights of any kind. Never in my life would I advise this to anyone, yet alone a pack of white girls in India. When did this become normal?

Things have been going. I find joy and happiness in many things here, but I wouldn't say that it's how I imagined my life in India to be.

Here's how most of my mornings start-This is the Junior School lining up in the quad before assembly. You'll notice me in the back looking incredibly enthused.

We also recently had interhouse cross country. On this day, all the kids in the school race to represent their houses. I am a Merlin, and despite us coming in last place, I am still proud to be a Merlin. After IH cross country, we have interschool cross country, which is comparable to the conference cc meet. Since we have no season and no state competition, this is it. While some kids train and enjoy running, most of the kids on the team had the unfortunate luck of finishing in the top ten at interhouse and were forced on the team.


Here are a few borrow pictures from interhouse cross country-Go Merlins (red t-shirts)!

Merlins, Condors, and Eagles awaiting their races...

Officials, looking official

Look how fast those little legs can go!

some of my favorite students

The 6th grade boys with minimal false starts

big deal

I was heading out my door this morning to come open the gym at 6:30 am, and I look out the door and see a monkey party on my porch. If I had to say, there were probably about 15 monkeys just hanging out. Big ones, little ones, red ones, green ones. Monkeys everywhere. I just made sure to open the door extra loudly, and they carried on with their lives.

A friend of mine had his house trashed by monkeys one afternoon. They had a nice time destroying his kitchen and eating anything they could get their hands on.

One evening, I was eating dinner with the cross country team near the top of the mountain. We were all relaxing and having a good time. Then we saw this huge monkey going in the window of someone's house above one of the restaurants. We all started gesturing wildy and tried to communicate with anyone who would listen. Moments later we heard some screams, and the monkey hopped back out the window as an Indian woman followed behind waving her arms. She closed the window.

I try to take the attitude that they can sense fear-like dogs. I go about my business. I don't act afraid. I don't scream or run. This works most of the time... One time I was walking with one of my friends, and I saw a gang of monkeys ahead. No worries, be cool. I keep walking, but this time the monkeys aren't running. This was a narrow dirt path on the side of a cliff, by the way. As I got closer, the mama came at me and was making some weird hissing noises. I was like-oh shit. Scream. Run. My friend, being logical, picked up a rock, and the monkeys scattered.

I've seen monkeys destroying bulletin boards, sneaking into offices, and trapping tourists to get food. I knew there would be monkeys when I came, but I didn't know there would be such clever monkeys that are up to no good running around.

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.