Sofia's Travels

2005-04-11T05:31:00.000-07:00

Satya-da buying veggies, Laxmipour

2005-04-11T05:29:00.000-07:00

Rickshaw-walla, Laxmipour

2005-04-11T05:27:00.000-07:00

"Dad"

2005-04-11T05:26:00.000-07:00

Village school, Laxmipour

2005-04-11T05:22:00.000-07:00

Esty and Satya-da on the back of a cycle-rickshaw enroute to his village Laxmipour

2005-04-11T05:20:00.000-07:00

Villagers bring milk to the city via Sealdah Train Station

2005-04-11T05:18:00.000-07:00

"Pirate Patches"

2005-04-11T05:17:00.000-07:00

"Mom"

2005-04-11T05:15:00.000-07:00

The IPSL 7 on our last day at Loreto College, Kolkata

2005-04-11T05:13:00.000-07:00

Esty hiding from the cold in Darjeeling

2005-04-11T05:12:00.000-07:00

Buddhist prayers in Gangtok

2005-04-11T05:11:00.000-07:00

Buddhist monks enjoy the view at a monastery in Darjeeling

2005-04-11T05:09:00.000-07:00

Unknown Hindi film actress posing at overlook in Gangtok

2005-04-11T05:08:00.000-07:00

Waterfall in Gangtok, Sikkim

2005-04-11T05:02:00.000-07:00

Steven (the Australian) with young monks at Enchey Monastery, Gangtok

2005-04-11T04:59:00.000-07:00

Nepali girl at Botancal Garden in Gangtok, Sikkim

2005-04-11T04:56:00.000-07:00

Monks at Botanical Garden in Gangtok

2005-04-11T04:52:00.000-07:00

Pink snow-covered peak of Mt Everest!

2005-04-11T04:50:00.000-07:00

Sunrise from Tiger Hill 3

2005-04-11T04:47:00.001-07:00

Sunrse frm Tiger Hill 2

2005-04-11T04:47:00.000-07:00

Sunrise on Tiger Hill 1

The end is near

2005-04-03T22:48:00.000-07:00

It is late morning here, and though the sun is doing its best to exhaust me and keep me locked in doors under a cooling fan with a glass of Electrol (home-made gatorade) in my hand, I am fighting it :-) My host parents finally let me leave the house yesterday to spend the day with my family friends. Dr. and Mrs. Bose took all 7 of my friends out to the Tollygunge Club, a beautiful and world-renowned golf club, for an afternoon of swimming, strolling and dining. To relax after our hearty lunch we took a drive around the Salt Lake neighborhood of Kolkata so that we could see firsthand the product of all of the Development and Globalization that we have been studying. The area was full of futuristically designed building housing an array of impressive institutions including Law schools, IT centers, and more. Salt Lake seemed to be the perfect place for young professionals to live and work, although the neighborhood is some distance from the entertainment center of the city.

One thing that never ceases to amaze me about India is the constant juxtaposition of old and new, traditional and Western, and rich and poor everywhere you look. Even in the ritziest neighborhoods it is not uncommon to find a cow wandering the streets undisturbed, or see a few children with threadbare clothes barely covering their bodies running around. After spending 3 months here, the experience of peering out the window during a smooth ride in an airconditioned car and seeing an entire slum composed of scrap pieces of metal and plastic across the street from the manicured lawns of an Information Technology firm has become less disturbing and more realistic. Rather than causing me to feel as much pity and guilt (though avoiding sadness in a developing country is impossible), I instead see adversity and strength and "progress" and hope and growing pains and reality, and what I come away with (aside from some confusion) is motivation.

I'm not quite feeling like new, but I am much recovered from my 5 nights in the hospital, and from my position of health I am now able to look back and laugh at what seemed to be a true comedy of errors. It never occured to me that all I needed to do to imporve my Bengali skills was to enclose myself in an environment where I was at the mercy of a staff of individuals who spoke no English, and upon whom I had to rely to have all of my basic needs met. I was so lucky though, because for most of the times that I was conscious (and not drifting in and out of a feverish sleep), I had people taking care of me. The nurses were incredibly affectionate, almost to a fault. Every time one of them thought to pass by my bed, whether or not I was sleeping, they found it necessary to caress my forehead; perhaps they were checking my temperateure, or just trying to let me know non-verbally that they cared, they succeeded is startling me awake several times per day. All of my classmates came to visit me, as did both of my host parents, and even Choto-da, our big brother and cook, came to visit me! Umma, my mother surrogate Aunty came to visit, and brought me fruits and drinks, and helped to decorate (and imporve the smell of) my hospital room by bringing me gorgeous flowers! Her husband Dr. Bose even made an appearance to help me understand what on earth was going on with me medically!

Tomorrow Luke will leave for his travels around India (he is going to visit Darjeeling for a view of the Himalayas, Bhodgaya for some meditation, Veranasi to see the most holy city in all of India, and then head west to enjoy the beach at Goa, and the big Bollywood city of Mumbai), I'm not ready to say goodbye yet! Anna and Zach will also leave tomorrow for a 2-day trip to the Sunderbands where they will hopefully catch a glimpse of some tigers while on their boat tour, and then Zach will head of to travel around India as well (in addition to the cities that Luke is visiting, Zach will also cram in Chennai and Hydrobad!). The 3 girls will all head home on Saturday, but before that we are going to visit Choto-da's village on Thursday! Esty and I are headed to the Royal Jordanian office and the travel agent to radically change our itineraries (due to my newly weakened health status), so I will send updates soon about what I will be doing, and more importantly, when I will be returning home!!!

meteorology

2005-03-11T03:42:00.000-08:00

Today is a muted day. If I were at home I could be sure that the sky was warning about an appoaching thunder storm, but here I have no idea. I'm feeling warm and slow and dark, and just need some familiarity. It is getting harder to keep moving forward at such a breakneck rate any more. The stimulation of a new class every day, my papers piling up, not to mention the personal drain of my service and the general chaos that is India...I feel surrounded by it all, and heavy on top of that with a longing to not be apart from what is so important to me.

Bhodgaya: The Quest for Enlightenment

2005-03-10T03:20:00.000-08:00

The actual experience was wonderful :-)
Luke, Brandi, Zach and I participated in a 24 hour period of silent meditation. The definition expands beyond the common conception of sitting with eyes closed in the half-lotus position, to include Walking Meditation, and mindfullness while eating and moving in general. We began our session at 5pm with Instruction, and finished at 6pm the following day.

Here is a schedule of our day:
5:00AM- Wake up
5:30AM- 1 hour Seated Meditation session
6:30AM- Practice mindful eating at Breakfast
7:00AM- 1 hour Walking Meditation
8:00AM- Seated Meditation
9:00AM- Walking Meditation
10:00AM- Seated Meditation
11:00AM- Practice mindful eating at Lunch
12:00PM- Naptime
2:00PM- Seated Meditation
3:00PM- Walking Meditation
4:00PM- Seated Meditation
5:00PM- Instruction session (speaking-when-spoken-to allowed)
6:00PM- Walking Meditation
7:00PM- Teatime
8:00PM- Seated Meditation

Anna did not participate in the session, preferring to enjoy the quiet time to relax and read, and Esty and Jess decided not to proceed with the session within the first 45 minutes of meditation. I don't think this created very much animosity within the group, although it did cause problems because while the 4 of us were off meditating, the other 3 were off shopping, eating, and spending money...which we found out later would be necessary to pay our driver, make a donation to the monastery, buy tickets to the local Buddhist temples and ruins, and feed and hydrate ourselves for the next 2 days. We ended up all running out of money becasue some of us had to spot the cash to pay for the above necessities, and had to borrow money from our driver until Brandi could get to an ATM. We are still in the process of sorting out who owes money to whom!

Pre-Meditation Session Journal Entry from Bhodgaya

2005-03-10T02:34:00.000-08:00

..."We arrived in Bhodgaya at dawn this morning , and were incredibly hospitably welcomed by one of the monks. He told us quietly about how he has taught in San Francisco, Seattle, Hawaii and Dallas, and offered us tea and biscuits while our rooms were being cleaned. Residence at the International Meditation Centre includes free housing and provision of meals for as long as you need, one day or up to a lifetime. The grounds are small, but calm and clean, and are surrounded by a rural area where rice is cultivated and oxen are cared for by people who live in homes with walls as thick as a single brick, covered in roofs of thatched hay.

All 7 of us made the journey, though only some of us are excited by the opportunity to take instruction in meditation and practice a 24 hour period of silent mindfulness. Anna did not want to come in the first place, and Esty usually doesn't like group adventures. I am not sure whether Anna's disinterest comes only from a discomfort with the practice o meditation as a Buddhist art. I noticed also that as a Christian she did not participate in the Saraswati Puja last month...

The other visitors here, 3 men as I have seen so far, are maintaining a solitary quiet, and have been pacing the grounds with slow, deliberate footsteps, their eyes downward. I don't think that I have ever practiced mindfulness, actually practiced it, through all of my activities- walking, eating, sitting, all of these can be forms of meditation... I have inquired a sense of inquiry about the word "practice," particularly after reading "Can Humanity Change?" a dialogue between Buddhist scholars like Walpola Rahula (author of "What the Buddha Taught," read it) and the thinker Krishnamurti (Google him and find out about his foundation in California).

The other kids are sleeping now, Brandi and I are sitting outside until lunch at 11am. More and more I feel that sleeping is a waste, a way to pass through the hours without maintaining consciousness. What is the point of coming to this place if you aren't going to be awake to experience it? Although, when Brandi and I first walked about, exploring within the walls, looking at the yard, feeling the cool morning dew on our feet, noticing the garden of herbs, onions and chills growing, climbing the stairs that lead heavenward to shady balconies where all that can be heard is everything: my own breathing, the scribbling of Brandi's pen, birds chirping, monks chatting, construction going on, leaves rolling on the round, flies buzzing near my toes, a sheep bleating alone somewhere, prayer flags flapping in the wind, the nearly imperceptible footsteps of a woman carrying freshcut vegetables in a basket on her head, a man slf-consciously locking the door as quietly as possible and ten pacing away like a ballerina with toes pointed and arms behind his back...I remembered that coming to a specific sanctuary where silence, relaxation and concentration are offered, yeahes you the arbitrariness of location. You can (and should) practice life the way you see fit in whatever environment you find yourself.

I can't judge until I try the 24 hour meditation period for myself, but I am often skeptical when people so deliberately and consciously behave reverently- watching these men (dressed either in their safron-colored linen pants or the trendy jeans of their home country) I am rminded of a group of white-clad peopl from the group Ananda, who visited Shishu Bhvan. They walked around in a similar manner, observing our interactions with the children as if in prayer. For me, it is easy to mistakenly perceive strong faith in an individual or a group as something ingenuine and strived for, rather than natural and true, but I really don't feel any pretension here.

I feel comfortable wearing what I am, and I feel comfortable to un-selfconsciously do what I feel like, though I suppose in order to lose your sense of self (which is the cause of humanity's suffering, the disconnect created by a false duality) it has been prescribed to first master complete awareness of self in order to see its falseness. Krishnaji does not seek truth within organized religion, nor through the accumulation of knowledge, nor through a mediator or a guru, nor necessarily through disciplined practice- as all of these methods require not only that you identify yourself, but that you identify yourself with someone or something else as well. I feel pulled towards this, but still only know it as a concept, an idea, a theory, I don't see it as a truth. And it is not as if I am going to eventually work up to some enlightenment or insight; it isn't something you practice or try to attain, you just see, that is what there is to it.

In religion, Christianity, Hinduism, whatever, you build up karma, good deeds, positive action, righteous living, in the hopes of bearing the fruits of your labor in the next lifetime, or in heaven, or eternal life...Krishnaji radically throws all of this aside by proclaiming that he suffers now, now, and doesn't want to suffer now. But it seems unfathomable to me to dissociate from the self, to lie in truth, while maintaining an existence in this world, with its necessities like food, rest, sex, etc...is it possible to be human without being wrapped up in conditioning? The instant you are born you are in society, you have your mother and father. You can't live without being born, and you can't be born without two people before you, who had two people before them, ad infinitum. But "living," what is that? Breathing, blood flowing, brain cells flashing, movement of thought, perception of time...why be born if it makes you suffer? And why be good if there is no progress?..."

Updates on the Health Front

2005-03-10T02:06:00.000-08:00

For some reason at this point in the semester we all seem to be dropping like flies.
Esty, Luke, and Brandi have all been suffering from some pretty severe intestinal distress, relatively consistently, for quite a long time. The three of them all made visits to the alopathic doctor today (as opposed to the homeopathic doctor to whom we usually get sent, where we are prescribed an assortment of powders and globules) because their "Cipro Bombs" (the antibiotics we came to India equipped with) have failed to do the trick. If you have the time, please include their comfort and recovery in your thoughts and prayers...

After our lecture today on the history of Ayurvedic medicine, I ironically fell ill as well. I speculate that my migraine attack was brought about by the strong cup of coffee I drank this morning, but my professor is convinced it is because of the change of seasons and weather....Either way, I could feel it coming on for about half an hour beforehand: I was uncomfortable and nauseous, and my extremities felt jittery, as if wild amounts of energy were stored in my arms and finger tips, and by the end of the lecture I had difficulty taking notes- the letters came out so slowly and were all out of order and sloppy. We returned home and I was suddenly incapacitated by vomiting. No need to worry about me though, Choto-da was there to take care of me. He comforted me by dabbing my tears and calling me his sister, then he made me drink a cup of salty, warm Electrol.

I'm pretty recovered now, after a nap in my cold dark room. Esty and I both took the afternoon off from class, and spent the time lying together under her mosquito net telling stories. We had a pleasant lunch, surprisingly. Choto-da's cooking was delicious! All home-made and fresh: chili dal, green mango chutney, little potato fritters, heaven...and we have begun eating our food with our hands, like Bengalis. Choto-da helps us by critiquing our "form." Who knew what an art it was!

This morning at breakfast the professor commented on the noticeable amount of weight that Zack has lost over the past 2 months. Even I have lost a small handful of pounds, it must have something to do with the food and the heat and the amount of energy we spend at service. Another comical health issue, which might potentially be serious, is my permanent congestion. My nose has been stuffy and snotty since our first week in India, thanks to the pollution- I don't even remember what my voice usually sounds like anymore! The worst part of the situation is that my nasal blockage seems to have moved to my ears, and I have become slightly hard of hearing, which everyone makes a lot of fun about. At least it makes it easier to fall asleep at night, amidst the throbbing city sounds of car horns and chatter. Maybe I will get that checked out when I get home...

Purulia- Rural Village and Home of Chou dancing

2005-03-04T07:19:00.000-08:00

I returned on Tuesday afternoon from a trip to Purulia, and am already headed off again traveling. This time we are headed to Bhodgaya, where the Buddha attained enlightenment. We will be staying at the international Meditation Centre in Bihar, and I am ready for some beauty and relaxation.

Our trip to Purulia
We were accompanied by Professor Arnaub Ray (one of my personal
favorites, he is a bit nerdy, a linguist if you please)and
one of the actors who had been rehearsing the Greek tragedy on our
rooftop. After a fitful night's sleep on the barren train (no a/c, no
pillows, no blankets, no food...) we arrived early in the morning at
the surprisingly nice hotel, had breakfast, and hit the road for a
long car trip to the rural village where they make the elaborate
masks for Chou dancing. Getting to that village was relatively
anti-climactic (partially because I wasn't so interested in the masks,
nor was there much to see, though I did have a good time tickling and
chasing some of the local kids around...), but mostly because the drive
was sooo beautiful!

The rice paddies are gorgeous, there are cows and oxen and dogs and
sheep and goats all over the place, and the people are majestically picturesque.! En route we suffered several car problems (a rod fell
out of our tire, the boy's car overheated a few times, we'd have to
stop on a winding mountain road to allow trucks overburdened with
people and goods to pass...), but the breaks were great because we got
the chance to walk around, take pictures and write in our journals (I
know, nerdy). One particularly good stop was in a small village where
I got out of the car, hung out with some young rural boys, and ate
sugar cane under an enormous tamarind tree. At this stop we heard news
that the boys' car had fallen behind, and were warned of a "Mad
Elephant" on the loose....

We had two lectures (both in our hotel rooms), one was about Chou
dancing, and the other was about Jhumur, a type of beautiful classical
singing accompanied (and in my opinion OVERSHADOWED) by
out-of-this-world drumming. The highlight of the trip was the Chou
dance performance: the entire village crowded around a small cleared
area (the young children sat directly behind us vying for our
attention, the adolescent boys stood behind them staring at us, and
the rest of the village sat all around focusing on the show). The
drums are incredible! And the dance is amazing too, full of
outrageously elaborate costumes and masks, with crazy martial arts and
acrobatic stunts. Then our professor and the actor guy ( a local hero
in that village for some reason...) bought two bottles of this local
liquor, honestly similar to bathtub gin, made of flowers that
elephants occasionally get drunk from eating.

We went back to the hotel, had dinner, then lounged around with our
professor smoking cigarettes from Bangladesh and drinking this terrible alcohol. We
had to get up at 4am to catch our train, didn't get back to Calcutta
until noon, showered and had lunch, then had to go to our class at
Loreto College....Less than ideal circumstances, but well worth the journey :-)

I might not know, but I'm learning

2005-02-23T00:31:00.000-08:00

Rajesh
Rajesh died yesterday. He went to the hospital the day before, for the fourth time in as many months. I just realized that I haven't previously written about him, and I Wonder why. He was a beautiful boy, very sweet, and clever- not nearly-unconscious like most of the others. He had a bad case of TB, and what I assumed to be either Polio or Cerebral palsy because his limbs were so twisted, emaciated and stiff. He had a younger brother, Rakesh, whose body is the same, though his lungs were better and his mind worse.

Two Italian women, both of whom are leaving on Saturday, have been here with me through the long haul. One woman, blonde with short straight hair, has worked very well with Sanjoy- pushing him physically and socially. The other, shorter with short curly brown hair, loved Rajesh and spent lots of time sitting with him in her lap, reading stories and feeding him. Lately, he had been getting worse and worse; eating less, with a fever that increased impossibly each day. His breathing was always labored and noisy, but the last few days his respiration was unnaturally fast- you could see each shallow breath struggle to escape through his twitching nostrils.

I sat on the roof at breaktime, listening to two teenage volunteers (who have been here only a week) talk about how at home "they just don't know what its like here, man." I didn't want to hear them say that it is impossible to teach the kids here because they don't speak English, I wanted to ask her if she noticed that a little boy died, and now his little brother is all alone and he isn't even aware of his loss. I feel a big separation now between all of those new, smiling volunteers who come and go and wax philosophical and speak in big, important voices, and people like myself and the two Italian women, who have progressed through the awe of this city with its poverty, bustling masses, sick children and prosthelitizing missionaries, and have gone through several stages of questioning and awareness. We've stopped complaining about the way things are, or feeling self-righteous about "giving our time."

Instead of just questioning how to change things, we simply come every day and act. We follow our instincts, get to know the children as individual people, and know that all of the wonderful and productive things we are doing to challenge the kids and the system are nothing but a drop in the bucket- but that's ok, because every moment with these kids, all of the time both frustrating and miraculous, is fulfilling and joy-inspiring.

I'm learning that happiness is not the same as contentment. Happiness has more to do with recognizing that every person, action, object, moment in life can fill you up and make you whole without making you full- if anything, it makes you more hungry for new experiences and challenges. Similar to the way that getting used to a place and a routine of activities decreases the difficulty of getting the tasks accomplished through familiarity, but doesn't decrease the overall work load because each time you have mastered an objective, you realize there is more to do.

Dirty nappies and roly-poly
My mom used to say, in reference to my relationship with Bill, that I wouldn't know what love was until I had to change a screaming child's shitty diaper- well I'm learning. I got a fat lip wrestling with Dona, the blind and autistic girl, to try and take off her shit-smeared dress after changing her dirty nappie. Speaking of nappies, the Massi who folds and delivers them after they are washed gave me a kiss today, because she is small and old and no one ever pays attention to her. Again on the nappie front, I acheived a somewhat major accomplishment today- I can now tie the diapers on the way the Massis do it!
Here is the trick: A nappie consists of two square-shaped pieces of cloth, one is folded in half to form a triangle (and has a small loop of fabric sewn onto the tip, which will come into play soon), and the other is folded repeatedly into a rectangle (this piece will bear the brunt of whatever the child unleashes upon it). The triangular cloth is laid down, with the rectangular piece on top of it, going from the apex to the hypotenouse, then the child's butt is laid upon both of these, with the tip of the triangle poking between his or her legs legs. The children are pretty used to this routine, and the less handicapped ones will remain relatively still while you go about the business. Now comes the fun, skillful and fast-paced part. Pull the tip of the triangle up through their legs to their waist, pull one of the other traingle points (now become straps) through the loop sewn onto the apex, cross the two straps tightly, flip the child onto their stomach, and tie the straps in a neat not on their back. Done. This will not fall off or move.

My morning was spent quelling temper tantrums, of those kids who were not allowed to join the rest at the playground, with puzzles and crayons. One boy(Jotish) understood enough to put similar-looking pieces together, and would clap if two pieces fit, but he was not concerned with the overall picture it produced. Shilpa, a less developed girl, was more interested in putting the pieces dilligently (and repeatedly) into the box and dumping them out again. It is amazing to watch the development of a child's motor skills in real life rather than out of a text book- one heavy boy, about 6 or 7, who is autistic and kept in a playpen for most of the day (and depending upon which Massi gets him ready for lunch, has his ankles tied together when in his seat), can only walk if I bear most of his weight for him, and keep him upright, but he is incredibly proficcient at rolling around on the floor, which I gave him plenty of opportunity to do today :-)

Sofia is late to class!

2005-02-22T00:04:00.000-08:00

My day at service was wonderful as usual. I spent the whole morning with the semi-handicapped kids (the ones who can run around and eat and speak a little) instead of with the severely handicapped kids, as a special treat to myself. It was so much fun! I've started developing good relationships with the Massis, so I can just sit and chat with them, and they teach me some pertinent words in Bangla (for example, "cheeba" means "chew"- which is what you tell a kid after you shove food in his mouth). Time spent there is so light-hearted and loving, and I'm laughing most of the time- especially today when the toddlers were doing urban Indian dance, I can't wait to demonstrate! Just picture children (who already wobble in an uncoordinated way when they walk) bounding from leg to leg, with their arms in the air, index fingers pointed up, shrugging their shoulders, precious!

I've had an epiphany for how I am going to earn money this summer- be a nanny! (preferably to a filthy rich Greenwich family...)

Last night Esty and I played nurse to a badly injured puppy. He had a gash on his right hip that was so deep you could see the layers of fat, muscle and even bone, but he is still in good spirits- his tail wags when you pet him, and he still drinks from Mama's udders. While Esty distracted him by washing his face and body, I cleaned his wound and applied some antibiotic ointment to a piece of gauze, and we taped him up. Its funny how stray animals become part of the family.

Not everything is perfect in Kolkata though...
I've had trouble sleeping for the past few nights , I guess Tom's coming anniversary is affecting me more than I thought it would. I feel like I am going through a milder form of the initial grief and anger that I went through when he first died- I'm even having the terrible visions I got last year, before I fall asleep or if I have a quiet moment to myself. I feel like I really need to be around other people who are going through the same thing, it is really hard to feel normal and process my thoughts when no one around me knows what is going on. And even if I tell them, they won't feel the same loss and sadness, so they can't relate, and I don't want just a pat on the back and someone to say "there, there."

What else can you do? I just have to feel happy and lucky to have so much love in my life.

Wild Life

2005-02-20T23:28:00.001-08:00

Today is wonderful! There is something magical in the air, or maybe it is the sunshine or maybe it is just me, but I feel like everyone I'm interacting with has a smile on. The kids today were amazing and affectionate as usual. I taught my beloved Robi (a deliciously sweet blind boy with the most squeezeable belly I have ever seen) how to blow kisses, and spent some quality time potty training a group of toddlers. You have to picture how precious these kids look sitting all in a neat little row, naked from the waste down, sucking their thumbs and playing with one another. I have found that the best way to keep them well-behaved while on the toilet is to sing in front of them and periodically tickle them, I even taught them to do the "I'm a little teapot" dance while going to the bathroom. The joy these kids give me, and the angst I feel when saying goodbye to them, strengthens my urge to be a stay-at-home mom (at least for the first few years) when I have my own kids.

Preserved WildLife
Yesterday we spent at the Botanical Gardens, which were not quite what we expected. Instead of manicured flower beds and green houses, we found the place to be more of a lush green park, perfect for a morning stroll. I couldn't tell you how big the park was, but there were enough paths to spend a lifetime getting lost in them without ever seeing it in its entirety. My favorite part of the day (aside from trying tirelessly to take at least one picture that perfectly captured the mood of the place) were the small ponds and streams scattered about the park. The smell of the water, and the reflections of the trees in the ripples, and the sun on my face, and everything else, made me wish I could have been with Bill on some sort of boating adventure in the wilderness. To quench my thirst the Indian way, I bought a coconut for 10 rupees and drank its sweet water and ate its soft white flesh- the fun of watching the coconut-walla chop the fruit with his machete rivalled the taste itself :-) I almost forgot to mention the well-known attraction of the park, an ancient and enormous Banyan tree. Though it looks like a forest full of seperate trees, all of the growth actually originates from one central trunk that is continuously extending vines that grow into huge vertical branches. This tree plays a big part in Hindu the symbolism for the unity of all life.

Local WildLife
When dreaming of India, one might picture wild animals like monkeys roaming the streets, or at least a few sacred cows wandering here and there...this is not so. While we see the occasional (and extrememly unhappy) monkey wearing a jacket leashed to a man with a stick, or a lethargic snake sleeping inside of a charmer's basket, the animals we see most frequently are dogs. Stray dogs. Hunderded of them. They live in their own world on every street corner, and don't care much about humans unless they get fed. Just like the local humans, they sprawl anywhere they please- on the sidewalks, on top of produce stands, preferably anywhere with shade. We have found ourselves a family of dogs who now love us dearly (and not just because we feed them leftover paneer from dinner!). The two adults we have named Mom and Dad, in actuality they are sister and brother, but the two are an inseperable, lovestruck pair. They take care of a dwindling hoard of puppies, whose actual mother (we call her Mama) is rarely around, except to breast feed them. Two other canine characters are Uncle Larry (he bears a resemblance to Mom, though he seems to fill the role of the irritable, alcoholic, war veteran of the family), and Stubs. Stubs has no tail, and is actually "owned" by the chubby boy across the street, who calls him Duggy.

Unexpected WildLife
As per our usual, we spent Sunday afternoon playing frisbee at the Victoria Memorial. Jeremiah, the volunteer from Seatle who has live in Kolkata fora lmost a year and who served as our orientation guide for the MT house, and who also is responsible for organizing frisbee and various other traditions, has since left us to travel in the south- and I was happy to find that we could run our own sucessful afternoon of frisbee without him! For some reason, a uniformed gaurd decided that he would inforce the written warning of the memorial which reads "No physical exercise of any kind permitted on grounds," and kicked us out- disapointing not only us frisbee-playing foreigners, but also our huge crowd of Indian fans. Instead of quitting, we headed across the street to the Maidan park, and continued our play there. The location was drastically different than the quiet, lush green lawns of the Victoria Memorial. The ground was dry and sandy with rough, straw-like grass poking out of the ground and irritating my bare feet. The Maidan is a bustling hotspot on a Sunday afternoon, and our time was spent avoiding the random PONIES that periodically galloped through our field (and the resulting horse poop they left behind), and avoiding the nearly invisibly kite strings of the 30 or so men whose only passtime seems to be touching the sky. The afternoon was completed by the vendors who began selling consession to the crowd of onlookers we had acquired, as well as by the setting sun and the sitar music permeating the background from out of nowhere.

Catching up

2005-02-19T06:35:00.001-08:00

I'm sitting in the internet cafe on the eve of the Muslim holiday Maharam (where men march through the streets beating themselves on their backs with chains to the tune of pounding drums and waving flags, but more on that later...) realizing that I have not updated my journal in ages. This realization is further emphasized by how different my perceptions of this city have become. There is no way that I can do justice to all that I have done and thought in the past several weeks by furiously typing a single entry, so I will work on reminiscing over time, both to fill you in and to help myself reflect. Here goes...

Shishu Bhavan
I cannot begin to describe how glad I am to be working at Shishu Bhavan. I had an idea before leaving the States that I would be sharing the lvoe that I am bursting full of with these children, but I couldn't have dreamed of how truly amazing it would be. I've been here for nearly 2 months now, and though the time has flown, I have absorbed so much. Since the holiday season is over and most of the semi-long term travelers have returned to their homes, volunteers come and go from the Mother Theresa homes on a daily basis. This influx is wonderful, especially because they volunteers are enthusiastic and have a lot of love to share with the children, but since they are not well-versed in the routines of the home, it is as if they are starting from scratch each day. That is where I have come in handy. I have somehow transformed into a senior volunteer, just the type that I admired when I was new in Kolkata. My role has transformed from simply learning the ropes to passing my acquired wisdom on. You Goucher students will understand what I mean when I say that I feel like I have formed my own Orientation Committee. I'm passing on the kindness extended to me previously by more acclimated volunteers by helping the new kids (and adults!) get used to the city. I've been helpful socially, fillingpeople in on sites to see and sites to avoid, given tips on bargaining and eating, and even extended invitations (and made great new friends!) to regular frisbee games and dining expeditions.

More importantly, I am noticing my contributions to the hanicapped ward increasing in value. Initially it was easy to find fault and frustration with the mission and implimentation of Mother Theresa's dream. The facilities are somewhat bare, the sisters have no medical training, and the children receive less medical and intellectual attention than I beleive they need, but until you have learned about an institution from the inside, there is no way you can understand how it functions. Honestly, and all hokiness aside, this place works becasue of love. The sisters are the most beautifully patient women I have ever met, and the Massis (the Indian women hired to provide direct care to the children) are some of the most skilled people I have seen as far as child-rearing is concerned.

Interjection of Commentary Regarding "Minimalist Parenting"
Something that consistently amazes me on the streets of Kolkata is the sheer joy I find on the faces of the homeless children. Though they have no roofs over their heads, nor a constant supply of food, and certainly not enough medical attention nor educational stimulation, they are continuing to progress through childhood (just like children do normally in the United States). They go through all of the same stages of growth, they lose their teeth, they get chicken pox, they get in trouble, they don't like eating their vegetables...but they develop so much more quickly! I have seen children here running around with beautiful fine motor skills whose American counterparts are still being coddled in their parents arms, barely able to crawl. The kids here develop all sorts of amazing skills, aside from their ability to invent different forms of play and their love for attention from strangers, I am most amazed at how quickly thse children are able to take care of themselves and eachother. And they do take care of eachother!

More on all of that later, right now it is time to head home for dinner. Miraculously 6 boxes of Annie's Mac and Cheese appeared on our kitchen table last night, as if Manna from Heaven, so perhaps Choto-Da will be fixing us something American tonight!

Happy Republic Day! (and Australia Day...)

2005-01-26T23:11:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was wonderfully fun!
For the holiday we got to take the day off of service, and slept in until 9:30- a real treat compared to our usual 7am wakeup time! fter a leisurely breakfast we spent the whole mrning upstairs amidst the hustle and bustle of mom and dad's floor. For the wedding whih we are attending today, our mom is letting Esty and I borrow some of her formal saris! Mine is a stunning red and gold one, for which I bought a matching blouse and petticoat today. Esty is waering a green one that compliments her complexion perfectly, and the other girls are waering an assortment of other lovely colors. We are planning to wear flowers in our hair, bangles on our wrists, and bindis on our foreheads :-)

I absolutely love Rai, mamum's daughter. She spent the whole day showing us a marvelous time. She took us by metro to a hand-loom expo just near the Maidan and the Victoria Memorial, and it had stores representing all of India's states. The mood was so festive because families were spending the day off in the sun together, and th happiness in the air was tangible and infectious. I must have been in a blue mood yesterday, becasuse the handbag, pillow case and wall hanging that I bought were all shades of the same gorgeous blue. Better than Van Gogh's yellow phase, I guess.

The best part of the day came soon after we all began to tire of shopping. With RAi's confidence, we sampled so much delicious food from the vendors! We had pani puris (called poutchkas in Bengali), which are so fun to eat because you all gather round the man making them, and the instant you pop one into your mouth he throws another one into your empty bowl! After that we had ice cream, my mango-vanilla treat perfectly soothed the spiciness of my mouth, and then we had Chat (the Indian version of nachos), and bhel puri. Even our taxi ride home was glorious, the sunlight was fading romantically, and the cab's music was the perfect background for the sites of the city passing us by.

Part Two of the day revolved around Australia Day.
Amongst the friends I have made through volunteering for Mother Theresa's various homes, many are Australian, Irish, Enlish and Finnish. Regardless of their country of origin, all are avid party animals, and wanted to take us out to celebrate Austrailia day in style. According to plan we all met at the rooftop restaurant of the lavish Lindsay Hotel in the Park Street neighborhood, but unfortunately, India's national holiday stood in the way of our night out- 26 January is a DRY DAY in India. To make a long story short, the rest of the evening was spent adventurously scouting out a good time through some of our various contacts in the local hotels, restuarants and guest houses. Australia Day ended quite pleasantly on yet another rooftop restaurant, where good friends shared lots of laughs, and many litres of King Fisher Strong.

Sunday, bloody Sunday

2005-01-22T21:35:00.000-08:00

Nothing bloody about this Sunday, in fact Sunday's in Cal are quite wonderful. We sleep in and have a large and leisurely breakfast with our host parents. Today the table was filled with Samji (bengali curry), Luchis (delicious puffed puris that professor Roy describes as "filled with pneumatic bliss"), Jelabis (a sweet made of deep-fried, twirled batter soaked in syrup), as well as eggs, toast, cereal and chai. Aside from the food, the morning conversation is my favoirte part of our elaborate breakfasts. Today Prof. Roy told us many stories about his latefather, who was quite a character. He was an amateur astrologist, a true fatalist indeed,who also served in the prestigious British Indian army.

We (all of us but Brandi) plan to spend this afternoon visiting the Victoria Memorial and the Planetarium; I think that Brandi had the right idea to spend some time alone exploring and relaxing at her own pace. I am getting a bit overwhelmed by being around everyone all of the time, but have found great solace in the ecclectic library that my professor keeps. Suprisingly (since we share a room and spend most of our time together), Esty and I have been getting along very well. It doesn't even seem as if we are just scraping by trying not to get on one another's nerves, we have actually found out how well we get along and how similar our tastes and preferences are- besides, we still have 4 months ahead of us together, and we can't jeopardize our travel plans by fighting.

I've heard that there is snow at home, and the temperatures sound atrocious...I Feel so removed from that being in India (and, thank god, by the time I return to the states it will be summer!). I have adjusted quickly to the warm weather here, so much so that I find myself shivering and wearing extra layers when the temperature dips below 70!

Lately my thoughts have been turning slightly dark- don't worry, I am still the optimist at heart, but an increasingly cynical one. I can't help that questions arise as to the validity of my service, in different ways. One plaguing question concerns my necessity to these operations.I also find fault with certain aspects of the MT organization, mostly in terms of the medical care and education that these children and adults are receiving (or rather, are not). For example, there are two very beautiful brothers in the handicapped section of Shishu Bhavan, and both seem to be in almost constant pain [without much of a prowess as far as diagnosis is concerned, I am guessing that they suffer from both polio- based on their stiff and skinny limbs, and TB or some other terrible respiratory disease based on their constant wheezing (and one morning I found the older brother's mouth full of a bloody foam)]. I am almost sure that if they received medical attention they could be free from pain, if not cured-and I wonder where my responsability lies in this situation. Especially since the day before yesterday I overheard one of the sisters tell a visitor that she didn't think the boys would survive very much longer. Another issue that I grapple with about my service is its purity- I feel that I am getting so much pleasure from it, I love spending my days with the kids (I call them my babies), and think that I have found my calling or vocation, but does that really help the children? Isn't service meant to be more of a sacrifice? Is the work that I am doing less valid because I find it so easy? (Easy in that when I am there I am completely lost in the moment and am relatively skilled, patient, and creative with the kids. Not so easy in terms of the emotional and physical exhaustion that I deal with every afternoon when I return home.) Also, the IPSL program in general, is working for Mother Theresa just something for us to pat ourselves on the back about? And how genuinely Indian is my experience? Everything that I do is laid out for me, and I feel as if I am not venturing into uncharted territory (perhaps in my own mind and soul, but certainbly it has all been done before...)

This vein of thought is not to say that I am not appreciating the amazing opportunities that I am being offered here, I am more than willing to take advantage as best I can of everything that I can get my hands on.

PS- Thanks Gabe, for always reading my blog and leaving me comments :-)

Happy Birthday Esty

2005-01-21T03:03:00.000-08:00

The homeopathic medicine seems to have worked well on me, I am much recovered- but Esty the skeptic is still phlegmy, hmmmm. Yesterday was her birthday, and to celebrate we all went to The Kurry Klub (a fusion restaurant in our neighborhood) for Mexican food- Indians definately have the spiciness down, though the subtle flavors (and even basic ingredients) are quite different. After lunch some of us went to the Fine Arts Museum; India's concept of historic preservation is completely different than our own. The museum had its doors open to the street, there was no entrance fee, and the three rooms full of paintings were ungaurded, perfect for a leisurely stroll. Some of the art was amazing, and some simply did not belong there, either way it made me feel incredibly creative, I wonder what field I will create in...

Our host mother, Professor Sreela Roy, took our whole group to the American Centre, where we saw Fulbright Scholar Dr. Brian Russo perform in two plays: "Love Letters," by AR Gurney, and "The Zoo Story" by Edward Albee. What an amazing education I am getting here! At the end of The Zoo Story, the main character runs into the outstretched knife of Peter, the accidental co-star, and says (as he lays dying) "Peter, I have come unto you, and you have conforted me." Brandi Googled the line, as it sounded biblically familiar, and we discovered that "I have come unto you" is a common phrase used in the Egyptian Book of the Dead upon reaching the kingdom of heaven, and "And you comforted me" comes from the Book of Ruth in the New Testament. Perhaps unintersting to some, but unravelling allusions is quite entertaining for those of us without TVs.

For Esty's birthday we had a big dinner with our host family, Sreela even blew the conch shell and served us a sweet Indian rice pudding with nuts and raisins in it. I only had a bite before passing mine off to Zach, who is fond of saying that he and I have a symbiotic relationship, "I give him my deserts, and he gives me nothing." He makes me laugh, especially when he speaks to Choto-da in waht Esty and I have dubbed his "caveman voice," you know the tone people assume when speaking to people of another language as if they were slow children.

Speaking of children! We took all of the handicapped Shishu Bhavan kids onto the roof after breakfast this morning and played in the sun alllll morning. It was wonderful, and I think the kids really enjoyed it. I have really found an affinity with the few blind children I have worked with so far, and I really think I have found my calling.

Cultural Explosion

2005-01-17T01:22:00.000-08:00

Aside from the constant barrage of sensual stimulation from the sites and sounds of the Indian streets, we are also fortunate enough to be offered outrageous amounts o fcultural stimulation. I cannot yet get over how tight-knit (and also also all-encompassing in terms of ideology and nationality) the community of intelligensia is in Kolkata. Our professors provide us with a web of connections in the worlds of art, literature, theatre and politics.

Art Opening of modern Indian artist Paritosh Sen
Paritosh is a cranky and eccentric old man who spent his youth in the Parisian heyday of cubistic and expressionist art, and became close friends with Picasso (clearly evident in his work). He is also close friends with our professor Kalyan Ray, thus we were afforded the opportunity to mix and mingle with Kolkata's art elite. We all got decked out and spent the evening enjoying appetizers and drinks, and feigned great interest in his work- we even had to pose for papparazzi shots! One of the strange characters we met was a thirty-something art collector/fashion designer from Delhi who kept referring to our city as "Cal," and invited us out for drinks at a club later that night- we politely declined.

Book reading/signing of "Eastwords" by Kalyan Ray
Kalyan's most recent novel Eastwords, a vivid postmodern story integrating Shakespeare's thoughts into an Indian fantasy, was released at Oxford Bookstore, and covered widely in the Kolkata press. As I have mentioned before, Kalyan's family is well-known in the India's Indi film world- his wife is an award-winning director (of such films as Mr. and Mrs. Ayer, which his daughter Konkona starred in), and his daughter is arenowned actor. Both took part n the event, and were extremely friendly- Konkona even offeren (enthusiasticly) to take us out toa night club some time. The next day we went and saw he rmost recent film "Amu," abou the 1984 riots against the Sikhs when Indira Ghandi was assasinated. How strange to see someone that you know up on the big screen!

Lecture on "Environment and Religion" by Vandana Shiva at the Rama Krishna Mission Institute of Culture
Vandana in an amazing woman! She is a renowned Indian environmental activist, whose philosoph of non-violence and preservation, as well as her stance on Intellectual property laws, commerce, and agriculture are all rooted in a deeply spiritual place. She explained that ecological responsability comes from the fact that all life is an expression of the divine consciousness, therefore all life is sacred, and we have a duty to protect it. The topics she covered ranged from humanity's loss of ecological intelligence (in terms of animal's 6th sense to protect themselves from natural disasters) to the nonsense business of "life patenting" which makes it impossible for rural Indian farmers to get their hands on productive seeds.Indian peasants, some of history's most hardy and resillient peoples, are now commiting suicide in record numbers because of this. Vandana was also part of the orginal "Tree hugger" movement of the 1970's, and currently travels the country writing books, lecturing, helping farmers, and engaging in (and winning) lawsuits regarding life patenting.

Meet the Author- Kumal Basu "The Opium Clerk" and "The Miniaturist"
Our home is a wild place- students and professors are constantly streaming through the doors, and the roof is always used in one fashion or another. One evening we were terrified by the sound of a loud and passionate quarrel coming from above, we feared that our host parents were fighting. Fortunately, and quite comically, we discovered that our rooftop was the main reherasal space for a travelling theatre group (which makes sense, since our Professor Amitava Roy is the president of the Shakespeare Society of East India, and the Tagore Ghandi Institute). Our rooftop was also the site for an "Adda," an informal conversation, with the Indian author Kumal Basu- he has been pegged as a writer of historical fiction, but his 3rd novel (which will be released next January) is quite different, it is about the scientific rivalry between scientists in the time of Darwin to answer the question of human variation. 2 theories (monogenism- that humans are all one species, though heirarchial, and polygenism- that different races are members of different species, and are inherently violent) are pitted against eachother in an experiment on a deserted island. The experiement consists of a dumb nurse watching over and testing the intelligence of a white girlchild, and a black boy- both will essentially be raised as ferral children, and the 2 theories of the scientists are that either the girl will return to society superior to the boy, or that one of them will kill the other. Kumal's 4th novel, of which he has yet to write a word, takes place in a fancy sex club in Bangkok, and is an existential study of the Buddhist philosophy of divine suffering. Interestingly, Kumal teaches advanced finance and marketting at Oxford. His books are hard to find, but if possibl, buy them!

Gandhiji's Talisman

2005-01-10T01:58:00.000-08:00

"Whenever you are in doubt or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test:

Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man whom you have ever seen and ask yourself if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him. Will he gain anything by it? Will it restore him to a control over his own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to swaraj for the hungry and spiritually starving millions? Then you will find your doubt and your self melting away."

India was a haven for so many brilliant thinkers and do-ers, Gandhi and Mother Theresa to name a few, and they all left behind them wonderful examples of deeds and words. I try to remind myself everyday of their teachings, and keep them with me as constantly as possible in my daily life here- whether it is at Shushu Bhavan where I am feeding or playing with a handicapped child, or when I am sitting down to a delicious meal with my host family. As I have said before, every moment here is an adventure, and a beautiful one at that.

2 January 2005
Setting: New Dehli train stationr journey to Kolkata
Feeling: Disgusted, mostly with myself
We have been habitually filling ourselves tothe point of discomfort, and it doesn't seem fair when we see those starving around us. One beautiful part of India is that it is a mosaic- the juxtaposition of tradition and modernity (ex: a sari-clad woman on the back of a motorcycle) is picturesque, but in the same regard the absolutely filthy rich live a stone's throw away from the desperately poor, and the two walk and live intermingled with one another. It serves as a constant reminder of injustice. Since I can't give my rupees to every individual I am forced to ignore them all, and it hurts so much. My struggle is to take this awareness that I am gaining and not only apply it to my actions here, but to my life upon my return home. More than that, how can I affect those around me back home without being preachy and self-righteous? I found a nice quote in a magazine, it made me think of my mother, and the daughter I may have in the future: "Suddenly, through birthing a daughter, a woman finds herself face-to-face not only with an infant, a little girl, a woman-to-be, but also with her own unresolved conflicts from the past and her hopes and dreams for the future." Thanks mom, for sending me here and taking good care of me.

3 January, 2005
Exhausted and uncomfortable from the constant travel, in combination with the fact that our train was delayed by several hours- my mind was not focused on the early part of our train journey, or the family with whom we shared our compartment, rather I could only remember a heart-breaking day in late March of last year and all of the thoughts and feelings that Tom bestowed on me to carry for the rest of my life. He is on my mind everyday here.

later, 3 January, 2005
I decided to put my bad mood out of my mind, and found myself enjoying the fabulous views that a cross-country train ride could offer. I have become obsessed with the beautiful colors of the fabrics that families hang outside of their homes to dry. The rest of the journey was amazing, I befriended the family in our compartment and now I have an invitation to their home in Calcutta where the mother will cook exotic treats for us and share some of her bangles. The father has offered to take us to his office (which is ont he 15th story of a government building) so we can see the view. I am amazed by Indian families. The husn\band and wife share sucha beautiful bond- they are so attentive to one another, and it is clear that they come first in eachother's eyes, even before their children. Devendra, the father, spent hours teaching us about Hindu wedding and marriage customs, and inspired me for how to live and love the rest of my life. He also told us many vivid stories about Brahma, Vishnu, Laxmi, Shiva, Parvati, Kali, Ganesh, the river Ganges, karma, reincarnation.... His daughter and her Sikh friend were very friendly, and taught me dozens of words and phrases in Hindi, and constantly laughed at my pronounciation (for Indians an American accent is much more difficult to understand than a British one).
In the end our 18-hour train ride turned out to take about 25 hours, but it was well worth it.

4 January, 2005
Last night we arrived in Kolkata. Packing all of us into the car at the train station, amidst the overwhelming bustle of begging children, talented and assertive porters, and honking vehicles was a challenge. To make the time pass, Esty, Luke, Brandy and I told intensely difficult riddles- this also helped to keep my tears away, I felt them coming constantly. Esty and the two boys and I have the great fortune of living with Professor Amitava Roy and his wife Professor Srila Roy. Their home is beautiful! It is 3 stories of stone and marble, the outside is red with fantastically curved walls, and it stays very cool in the heat of the day. Choto-da is our friendly and energetic cook. Not only does he feed us 3x a day, but he also boils and filters all of our water, opens the door when we get locked out, teaches us phrases in Bengali, and makes us laugh.
Our morning was spent with the other girls looking for phones and internet, but Esty and I quickly split off and experienced some local life. I bought bangles, she bought a scarf, and we both got our eyebrows threaded.
Choto-da set up mosquito nets around our beds, so we feel like we are sleeping in forts at night! To compensate for the extraordinarily hard "mattresses" that we sleep on, Esty and I laid our sleeping pads (for hiking) and our sleeping bags under our sheets. I also stuffed my "pillow" with a big wool sweater. Upon waking this morning I thought that this must be what is meant by living life. I rise early in the morning to the sound of the birds, before the sun even shines, sit down to every meal with ravenous hunger, spend the day exploring and full of energy and with senses heightened, and lay my head to pillow with dreams already floating in my sleepy mind. Although it only costs 2rs/piece to give the washing lady our clothes, Esty and I have been doing our washing on the balcony early in the morning by hand, using dove soap. After drying in the sun they smell so good!

5 January, 2005
Last night Luke, Brandy and I went out for a beer, and had a pleasant time rambling about the maladies of our educational system, as well as our own pesonalities and motivations. Brandy and I were both surprised and pleased when we caught Luke smoking from a pack of cigarettes that he had bought- the fact that he is a closet-smoker gives us hope that there is more to his completely earnest (though endearing) personality.
This morning Luke and I got up with the birds and went runing, long before 6 am. We intended to find the nearby park called The Lakes, but instead got ourselves trememndously lost. Getting lost is so much fun in India. We stumbled upon a colorful sidewalk produce market and what essentially amounts to an entire city that sleeps on the streets. Early on in the run we felt like disgusting Americans for being involved in the silly excess of going out for a jog when others are just trying to survive, but then we relaxed and began to enjoy ourselves. It feels so good that by the time most people are waking I have already run, gone exploring, and showered- how can everyone else sleep through life?!
Esty and I hit the jackpot in Professor Roy's library! We dug through his collection of dusty books, and made out like bandits. Among his books that are up for grabs are many titles by: Emerson, Faulkner, Vonnegut, Rilke, Sartre, Hegel, and moremoremore.
Professor Kalyan Ray popped by for a visit today, he is a strikingly handsome man! Zach referred to him as an Indian Sean Connery. I think I have sung his (and his wife's and daughter's) praises in a seperate entry, so I won't repeat them here.

After our orientation at the Mother House
I have to admit that I did a bit of swooning over Jeremiah, the kid who gave us an overview of procedures within Mother Theresa's homes. He is a hippie, Catholic philosophy major from Seatle who is taking a year off from college to live in Kolkata. Not only did he give us great advice, which I will share with you in a moment, but he also invited us to join his friends on Thursdays to play Ultimate Frisbee!
Regarding our work at Shishu /bhavan, he reminded us that the children will hopefully be adopted, so we must make sure that they are as self-sufficient as possible. EAsier said than done, especially when the children love so much to be held and fed.
About beggars, he told us primarily not to give money to anyone outside of Mother's homes- we don't want to encourage beggin. He also told us that 90% of the beggars are working for the Indian "mafia," to whom they will turn over the spoils of their labor. We aren't to give money, instead we should buy a meal and sit down and eat it with them. Another idea he gave us for helping is to buy the homeless people wool blankets, although it is warm to us, it is winter here in Kolkata.
Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that the population of India is 80% male, but he told us to be aware of offensive male behavior. Surprisingly, he told us that the biggest thing we can do in those situations is to DO SOMETHING- it will shame them in public, and they will profusely apologize. As of yet I haven't had any trouble in that department.

Happy New Year!

2005-01-05T20:49:00.000-08:00

31 December 2004
Today we visited Humayun's Tomb (generously reconstructed by a $500,000 grant from the Agha Khan Trust, Qutub Menar (the oldest mosque in the area, also our first run-in with an Indian-style toilet), and the Lotus Temple (where not only did we learna great deal about teh beautiful Ba'hai faith, but also bumped into Rob Coyl, a classmate from our India class last semester! PS- we were thinking of you the whole time Katherine). We also saw a snake charmer, which terrified me. Instead of wildly celebrating the New Year we went to bed exhausted from travel.

1 January 2005
Oh my god! We visited the Taj Mahal, so beautiful and gargantuan, literally a Palace of Love. I hope someone will build one for me some day, hinthint...I had 2 fantastic stroked of good fortune on this visit. First, I paid only 20 rupees for my entrance fee(as opposed to the 750rs that my groupmates paid for being white) because I asked for my ticket in Hindi. Second, Esty and I had our photo taken with BILLY CORGAN, of the Smashing Pumpkins, hooray!

Journalling

2005-01-05T20:39:00.000-08:00

Allow me to give you a brief description of our wild travels thus far...

29 December 2004
We started our trip by spending 10 hours in a Jordanian airport meeting interesting folks- the most noteworthy was a beautiful French girl (who already had her Masters in International Law!) who was returning to Cambodia where she had been working.

30 December 2004 (my journal entry reads:)
Touched down in Dehli. Cried tears of joy, overwhelmed by feelings of having waited a lifetime for this moment. Immediately struck by the smell of the air. Not unpleasant, sweet, cool, and although very thick it is still refreshing. Surprised by how cool it is outside. Professor (Arnab) Rey met us in the air port, and i instantly liked him. His calm demeanor, sharp intelligence, and extremely dry humor were clearly evident....We headed outside with our tremndous loads of luggage where we were assaulted by about a dozen men snatching their hands all over our bags to help carry them to the waiting van. I mistakenly paid my two porters 100 rupees each (about 50 cents) before I realized the THE PROFESSOR (as we so fondly call him) would pay the entire group of agents 300 rupees total. We packed into the small van after seeing our luggage precariously assembled on its roof, and experienced Indian traffic for the first time- what an adventure! The vehicles come in all styles and sizes, mostly all are quite dillapidated, though many are festively decorated with Hindu symbols and random artwork/lights/tassles/etc. The rules of the road are loosely adhered to, especially lane divisions. Drivers pass from lane to lane constantly with only a horn's notice. Small vehicles are constantly honking at large ones to move aside, and people are constantly swerving within centimetres of eachother crossing into opposing traffic. The speed bumps are enormous, and the car must nearly come to a complete stop to overcome them- thus hurling your stomach into your mouth before dropping it to your feet. Everyone stares at us from their windows- we must be incredibly fascinating American specimens.

I'm here!

2005-01-05T20:10:00.000-08:00

Esty and I have made it safe and sound, and are already having amazing adventures. Getting in touch with people has been extremely difficult, due to among other things a hectic schedule, the 11 (or 10.5) hour time difference, and frustratingly slow computers- so please forgive my laxness in that department.

I hate to over-use the word amazing, but that is the best way to describe the weather, the food, the people, the culture, the places we have visited thus far! There are seven of us students travelling together- ranging from a recent high school grad who has never left the country, to some college students who (not including myself) have travelled to Africa and around the world. Even more fortunately, we have wonderfully bright and compassionate professors here to guide and care for us.

I am living in the home of Professor Amitaba Roy and his wife Professor Krishna Roy, along with Esty, Luke and Zach. We have already become close to the two of them, and treat them as our parent. We have also become close to Choto-da, our cook who also boils and filters our water, teaches us phrases in Bengali, and helps us get back into our rooms when we lock our keys out. The other three girls live across the street with a Hindu widow and her daughter. Her son is a movie star, and so is his wife! Speaking of fame, another of our Professors, Kalian Rey, is a published novelist, his wife is an award-winning director of indi films, and his wife is an award-winning actress of the same genre!

Pre-Departure

2004-12-17T13:12:00.000-08:00

If you are reading this it must mean that I love you, and maybe you love me too- or are at least curious about my whereabouts and well-being.

I am just shy of the 10-day pre-departure mark, and am trying to get my affairs in as neat an order as possible (this mostly inolves a lot of running around, slaving away at papers, packing up my room at school, unpacking my stuff at home, and repacking my things for India...). As of yet I still have no contact information, but feel free to email me with advice on: what to pack, where to go, what not to eat, what sort of gifts to buy for my stateside friends...

Here is a vague itinerary of sorts:
The first three weeks of the new year will be spent acclimating to India by travelling around New Delhi (including visits to Agra and the Taj Mahal!) with my professor and 8 other classmates. These weeks will also be packed with 6 credits of study regarding Indian culture, heritage, religion, art and cinema from ancient times through the present, as well as an intense amount (supposedly 40 hours/week) of service.
After the orientation period I will spend 10 weeks living with a "middle class" Calcutta family (hopefully I will get a sybling!), going to school, and performing a more relaxed 20 hours/week of service.
The program is over at the beginning of April, but Esty and I plan to stick around until the 3rd week of May to get in lots of travelling (we have our visas ready for Nepal, and can't wait to trek our way into Tibet! I would also like to visit the magnificent beaches of Goa where my grandparents spent their honeymoon, and Pune- the city where my father grew up).

...but keep in mind that as we all know, things do not always go according to plan- especially in the Third World

which makes me think of some Paul Simon lyrics, upon which note I will leave you with love

A man walks down the street
It’s a street in a strange world
Maybe it’s the third world
Maybe it’s his first time around
He doesn’t speak the language
He holds no currency
He is a foreign man
He is surrounded by the sound
The sound
Cattle in the marketplace
Scatterlings and orphanages
He looks around, around
He sees angels in the architecture
Spinning in infinity
He says amen! and hallelujah!