Supporting the local economy

मेरे दोस्तों नमस्ते !
I'm the kind of person who likes to sleep in. Mornings like today are somewhat uncommon: I woke up an hour before my alarm went off (even though I didn't go to bed until 2am), energized and ready to Get Shit Done. I even surprised myself.

I'm now well within my last two weeks here in India, which means it's finally time to buy all the souvenirs and things I want to take home. I had been putting it off because buying more stuff would mean I'd have more stuff to store, and with a trip to Rajasthan in the mix, during which I left the rest of my possessions with a friend, it didn't make sense to add to the amount of things I'd have to cart back and forth. I don't imagine I'll be moving again before my final trip to Delhi, so now the shopping can commence.

If any of you want something specific, tell me now. If you want something specific and expensive, I'll send you my Paypal address so you can get those dollas to me.

I went into McLeod Ganj for breakfast, enjoying a satisfying chicken sandwich with mango & coriander chutney on the patio, in the sun, at Moonpeak Espresso. I haven't been there in a while. On my way, I stopped in to a shop to take a look at something specific on my list for a gift. The middle-aged Indian proprietor smiled a lot and wasn't pushy at all; when I asked in Hindi if he had what I was looking for, he became excited as well. We talked for a few minutes, him showing me various items on the shelves in his tiny store, and even though I felt like it must have been painful for him to endure my butchery of his native language when he clearly could speak mine, he complimented me, saying that my Hindi was "bohut sunder" -- very beautiful -- and that I sound like I've been speaking it for a long time. 

All I have to say is LOL. Thanks, sir, but I don't entirely believe you. It's sweet of you to say, though.

After breakfast I headed up to the ATM because, well, the whole point of going in to town today was to shop and I needed funds. Over the last 4 months I have made friends with one of the shopkeepers near said ATM. The guys over there tend to hang out outside because their shops are tucked back from the street; it's easier to grab customers if they're more visible.

Taj showed me all kinds of pretty things, of which I purchased a few unique pieces for gifts this upcoming Xmas (lucky you if you get one of them!). He made a comment that he'd give me the "local price" because I'd been here long enough that "now you are a local." I told him "Baria!" to which he responded with a surprised "and now you also speak Hindi!" He was kind enough to let me practice a bit, only reverting back to English when I really had no idea how to get my point across otherwise. It's so much fun. It's like decoding a puzzle.

I try to speak in Hindi as much as I can, because that's the only way to get better at it, not to mention more comfortable with it. Most of the people I do this with seem initially surprised but then appreciative; I have had a couple of Indians tell me that many foreigners come to Dharamsala because it's a Tibetan area, and the Indian locals get looked over or even looked down on. This is unfortunate, of course, but it works in my favor in a way because I stand out as "that foreigner who has actually bothered to learn our language." Obviously I support the Tibetan community as well -- it's the reason I came here, after all; I do volunteer at a place called Tibet Charity -- but there's a different sort of inclusion I feel when I bust out what little Hindi I have with the Indians. It's like I immediately gain a bit of status in their eyes, like I really am more "local." Sometimes, in my desire to use it as much as I can, I catch myself nearly speaking Hindi with my students or other expats who only understand English... it's pretty funny.

One thing I enjoy about McLeod Ganj and Dharamsala is being able to say at least "hello" in a few different languages. I know how to say this and "thank you" in Tibetan, and that's pretty much it -- but there's something exciting about walking down the street and greeting Tibetans with tashi delek, then passing a westerner or two and telling them hi, and responding to the Indian shopkeepers' "Hello, Madam" or "How are you?"  or "Yes, taxi?" -- it's like navigating a town full of NPCs, I swear -- with a namaste or thik, aap kaise hai? or nahin, thank you bhaiya. I feel so multicultural.

Uncounting

The end of the fall semester at Tibet Charity is rapidly approaching. Classes end on the 26th, final exams are the next day, and then Friday there is a closing ceremony. I'm having a chupa made just for me for the closing ceremony, and I'm pretty pumped about it. I think it'll look nice, and the color should coordinate nicely with the new juties I got in Jaipur.

A couple of my Pre-Intermediate students have been asking me for help studying for their final. I've met with both of them the last few nights; I haven't seen either of them in a while. The one also said we are going to have to go have lunch sometime before I leave India. It's nice to be appreciated.

The current chapter in my class deals with countable vs. uncountable nouns, and today we introduced how much and how many. Teaching English can be tricky because it's hard to give students "rules" to follow; you tell them an uncountable noun, like "bread" (you say "some bread," not "a bread"... usually) can be made countable by adding the phrase "a piece of" in front of it: a piece of bread. Some rice becomes a piece of rice. No problem, right? Some meat and a piece of meat, some fish becomes a piece of fish... Then you get to some butter/a piece of butter and it starts sounding a little funny. It still works, though. When you make it to some grapes... well. Have you ever said "a piece of grapes"? I didn't think so. Regardless, they are handling it well. The end of the semester is always fun because everyone relaxes a bit. I'm not a huge advocate of keeping a distance between myself and my students; I want them to be comfortable with me and have fun in class, because that's how you learn best. Interested students are studious students. We laugh even more now than we did early in the semester; they understand more colloquialisms (today we went through "it doesn't matter," "got it," "leftovers," and other similar phrases) and give clever responses to my questions.

My hope is to make it through this chapter by the time finals roll around. We're just shy of halfway, with three days of class remaining. The power was out the entire class period today, so that meant we couldn't do any of the listening exercises that came with the textbook. We focused more on speaking and how to phrase questions and answers instead. I like to have a review day before each exam; I don't think we'll get a whole day this time, but I'm definitely going to try to give them at least half of one. Hopefully they'll all have done their homework.

I'm going to miss them when I go. I've collected a few email addresses; I'd like to keep in touch with as many of them as I can. I've met so many interesting people here in India, from so many different backgrounds. Some of the Tibetans were born here, in exile, and others have stories of crossing the mountains on foot, traveling at night because there was less risk of being caught that way. All of them dream of someday returning to Tibet. I've met some very cool Indians, and a couple of my fellow expats have entered the ranks of my best friends. As always, part of me can't wait to get home and see all of you -- but another part of me knows that I'll miss this place once I go. Even now, with two weeks remaining, I feel like I'm not entirely here. I haven't totally unpacked my bags in my new place; I'm not going to. I don't want to get too settled, because I'm just going to have to undo it all in a handful of days anyway. I've now stayed at 4 of the hotels near Tibet Charity. I feel like a nomad. I can definitely understand how people get addicted to traveling... it's been one of the most incredible experiences of my life. It's just what I needed, and I'm so grateful to everyone who helped make it happen.

Feel the Love

As luck would have it, now that I'm within my last couple of weeks here, I seem to be making all kinds of friends. The managers at two of the local hotels -- New Varuni House and Villa Paradiso, stay at one of these if you are ever in town -- have been incredibly kind and hospitable, especially since I arrived back in town this weekend. The girls at the cafe down the street are absolute sweethearts, and of course I made some friends in the soldiers from the train the other night. A couple of the students from the Pre-Intermediate class that I taught at the beginning of the semester, that I had since handed off to Brij and he to Jill, found me in Tibet Charity and specifically asked if I would help them study for an upcoming test because they preferred my teaching methodology. The guys here at Varuni seem to enjoy my efforts to speak the local language; they ask me "Aap kaisi hai?" when I come downstairs and smile broadly when I respond in Hindi. Being able to talk to the locals really does open up an entirely new world. I wish I'd started sooner.

Oh well. Better late than never, right? I keep watching Benny Lewis's videos for inspiration -- if he can learn enough Polish in an hour to hold a rudimentary conversation, why can't I learn enough Hindi to do the same in, say, a couple of weeks? The answer is laziness, lol. I think I know more than I realize; my vocabulary is so-so and every day I can pick out more and more words when I listen to other people talk. Indians tend to speak very fast, though, which can get intimdating... fast. Now that I can read the language, it makes things a bit easier. Brij and I made a good travel team: I could read signs, and he could tell me what the words meant. Together we were unstoppable! Well.. we could find our way around, at least.

My plan is to continue studying Hindi even after I get home. Recognizing words in conversation feels like I'm suddenly in on a secret, like I've got the means to decode the, well, code. Just as I do at home when foreigners attempt to speak English, many of the people here seem to appreciate the fact that I'm at least making an effort, even if the end result is less than polished. It's intimidating, especially when most people also speak English. I've found that a lot of them aren't interested in conversing with me in Hindi because I clearly speak English; either it's less hassle for them, or they want to practice their foreign language skills. That's ok. Now that I've gotten over the initial barrier of just getting started, I'm more motivated to learn. It doesn't seem quite so unmanageable. I've developed a familiarity for the sound of the language and I try to work it into conversation as much as I can, even if it's only a few words here and there. I expect when I get home I'll be ordering at restaurants in Hindi out of habit. ;)

I feel like I'm more on a roll with it now. I kind of wish I could stay another couple of months and really work on it........ I guess if nothing else it's a good excuse to schedule another trip to India, eh?

Birthday Cake

Tibet Charity was closed today because the local Tibetan Children's Village school was having a celebration. This being an important day for the Tibetan community in general, a bunch of stores around town were closed, too. Gill, Gusti, and the two Danish doctors who recently arrived to volunteer at TC went; I had planned on going but wound up packing instead.

Because, you see, this morning Brij managed to get us train tickets to Rajasthan. I had begun to wonder if it was ever actually going to happen. It's official though – tomorrow evening we've got tickets for a train from Pathankot (we'll get a bus there from McLeod Ganj) to Jaipur, and from Jaipur we'll travel around Rajasthan for a couple of weeks before I come back to Dharamsala, Brij goes to Gujrat and then back west, and Marie, who is supposed to be meeting us in Jaipur, continues her journey around India.

I'm only taking one backpack with me, I think. This is great, except for the fact that it means I have to store everything else I've got in my possession here. It's not an ideal situation, but it could certainly be worse. I'm moving out of my room at Pause Dwelling because, frankly, I don't want to pay 2-3 weeks worth of rent if I'm not even going to be in the same state.

Speaking of not being in the same state, Gill headed back to New Zealand today; it'll be a little weird around here without her. She was the one who first showed me around McLeod, and we've grown to be friends over the last few months. Safe travels, Gill! Maybe I'll come visit you in NZ sometime!

Today was also Brij's last full day in town. The original plan was to return to the disco, but those plans fell through as we realized that Brij, Kalden, and I seemed to be the only ones who were actually planning to go. Truth be told, I wasn't entirely feeling it myself; I kind of wanted to just chill for what was going to be my last night in town for a while, as well.

Everybody's leaving, all at once... Verity, Gill, Brij... I'm leaving too, I guess, but I'm coming back. My students made me promise I'd be back before the end of the semester. :)

Anyway, Brij decided we should have pizza for his last dinner in McLeod. Om Cafe makes a damned good Roquefort/walnut/”chilly” pizza, so that's exactly what we had (along with an eggplant/herb/tomato pizza). Delicious, and for less than 200 rupees.

During his stay in India, Brij has become close friends with one of the local families who happens to own a cafe down the road. One of the sons was having a birthday party today, and they said that he had to go. In fact, they were waiting until he arrived to cut the cake. No pressure or anything.

He invited Kalden and me to come with him, making the argument that it was a party and likely to have dancing like the disco would, and since we had scrapped that idea, we may as well still get some dancing in and cake while we were at it. I decided to take him up on the offer, mainly since I plan on leaving some clothing here when I leave India and there's a good chance I'll leave it with them since they're friends of his. I thought I may as well meet the girls so I'd know who to talk to later on when the time came to make the drop off.

We arrived and they ushered us in, asking Brij why he was late. It's like he was a minor celebrity there, or perhaps more appropriately, a part of the family. They welcomed me just as warmly.

The birthday boy turned 12 today. I told Brij I had no idea how to sing “Happy Birthday” in Hindi, half jokingly, but he promptly started teaching me. As it turned out, we sang it in English anyway. I don't know if it's some kind of Indian tradition or just one in that family, but after the candles had been blown out, the birthday boy grabbed a handful of cake and offered it to each of us in the room while a woman, perhaps Mom, cut the rest of it into actual pieces. He got to me, held out his hand, and said “Auntie?” – I was touched. It's something I'm still getting used to here: “Auntie” and “Uncle” are what Indians call people older than themselves as a term of respect. It's kind of like “Sir” or “Ma'am” but it also conveys this sense of warmth, unlike in English. How could I say no to such a sweetie? Truth be told, the cake itself wasn't anything special... but the presentation more than made up for it.

Brij (|with frosting) and some of the girls.

After everyone finished eating, the music got turned up and the sisters started dancing. I got pulled up to join – which of course I didn't mind – and as the evening wore on I found myself giving an impromptu bellydance lesson. One of the girls in particular stuck by my side the whole night, mirroring every move I made. She's a pretty darn good dancer, actually, and I got her to show me a few Bollywood moves. They were all very, very sweet; I told them I'd be back from my trip in a couple of weeks and that I'd teach them bellydance if they taught me Hindi. Their eyes lit up – easy! What a great deal, right? They told me I was doing pretty well already, even though my vocabulary is pretty limited; apparently my pronunciation is good, at least. They all seemed thrilled to have made a new friend. I was even requested to make sure I was back in town by November 7^th so I could attend a birthday party for one of them... we'll see how Rajasthan goes, but I think I might try to get back for that. I may learn some Hindi and Bollywood moves yet!

Brij and I were the last guests to leave. It took us a while to actually get out of there; he's been around here for the last 8 months and everyone was sad to see him finally go. All the girls as well as the birthday boy gave us hugs goodbye, and he called me Auntie again; Brij even seemed impressed with how quickly I'd reached “Auntie” status. A couple of the younger girls insisted he come back next year, then that both of us come back next year, and by the time we left they'd gotten me to promise I'd come visit when I got back in town. I wish I'd gotten to know them sooner. I'll just have to make the most of my last few weeks when I get back to McLeod Ganj...

Interval Hovel

After seeing my nasty skin situation, the guys at Pause Dwelling offered to wash my sheets and blankets for me. I took everything down the other morning and it was only much later in the evening that I realized I couldn't find my one jump drive -- the awesome 32GB one that has all my movies on it. I went downstairs to ask if they'd washed the bedding yet and if they'd found anything wrapped up in them. They said they hadn't, and then they invited me to come back down for dinner. Free homemade dinner not being something I tend to turn down, I hung out in my room for a bit and then wandered back downstairs.

The guys had the TV on; they flipped the channels between the news (something about a guy called Narayan) and the Indian version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire (Kaun Banega Crorepati). I still find it amusing how Indian TV combines Hindi and English almost constantly. I was able to read the text on the news (somewhat laboriously) and I caught a few words here and there. For some reason I hadn't even thought to turn on my own TV to listen to Hindi; I guess I'm just so used to not watching TV in general that I don't even consider it an option.

Dinner consisted of handmade chapatti and some kind of soya bean masala -- it was delicious and not too spicy. I'm not exactly sure what "soya" beans are and how they differ from the Illinois soy beans I'm so used to, but when they're cooked up they resemble TVP. I like 'em.

Yesterday in class at Tibet Charity, I was joined by not only Gusti but Neil as well. He was so kind as to shoot some film for a project I'm involved in -- the students were very well-behaved and went about class as usual, not paying any particular attention to him. We spent most of the class time reviewing for the test we were to have today, which I just finished grading... in general they're alright. Most of my students are sitting around an 80% for their overall class grade, which I suppose isn't bad.

Neil offered to pass the video along to me if I swung by his room (downstairs from mine) later on that evening, so that's what I did. A few minutes later Brij joined us, and what I expected to be a five-minute visit turned into three hours. We played "guess where this song is from" -- according to Brij, most music originates in Mali -- ate ramen, and exchanged a whole bunch of music and movies. Neil offered some insight as to why Pause Dwelling has such a funny name -- it involves a thesaurus mishap (think "rest house") and he says it could have just as easily wound up being called "Interval Hovel." Ah, it's fun making new friends.

Oh, and I found my jump drive. Yay!

Just because I feel like this post needs something visual, here's a sketch that Gill did of me at one of HH's teachings.

Can you tell it's me? I think it's pretty darn good!

The way I tend to be

Last night as I made my way up the steps of Pause Dwelling, I heard a familiar "namaste, ma'am" from just above and to my left. It was promptly followed by a short string of Hindi, of which I was able to make out just enough to stumble through a response of "I'm going to my room" (मै मेरा कमरा जा रहीं हूँ ). ... Or at least that's what I said, it might not quite be right.

He said something else so I hopped up the last couple of steps and around onto the balcony where he was sitting, and I took the empty seat next to him. Long story short, by the time I actually made it to my room I had a basic understanding of how to write Hindi -- not just try to mimic the typewritten text in books -- and I had also been assigned homework:

Who gives "Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today" as a first translation assignment??

I also installed a Hindi keyboard and a flashcard app on my phone so I can study when I don't have internet. Brij gave me a couple of movies in Hindi to watch, as well as some music. The language itself really is, I think, relatively easy... it's just the fact that I'm learning a new language at all that's tricky. The grammar seems to be pretty consistent and now that I can read the script, I'm finding that most words are phonetic.

As far as English class at Tibet Charity, today we were studying possessive pronouns and rhyming words. Naturally, the book suggested I give them songs as examples. The ones it provided were Roy Orbison's Pretty Woman and Every Breath You Take by The Police (Every breath you take/Every move you make... boom, rhyming words). I took the liberty of adding my own personal touch and gave them "I was her love, she was my queen/And now a thousand years between" and "Then I remember you/And the way you shine like truth in all you do"... I couldn't help myself. Hearing them read the lyrics off the board was a trip, too.

At the break, Gusti suggested I give them some nursery rhymes to further illustrate the point. Neither of us could recall much, but I did give them "Baa Baa Black Sheep" and "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star." They really seemed to enjoy it, and they understood rhyming well enough by the end of it that I was able to leave "sky" blank and they figured it out (rhymes with high, judging from the meaning, etc).

Then the book had an activity for us that involved filling in missing words from song lyrics. The song it chose, due to its high content of possessive pronouns, was this. I felt like I was either at a wedding reception or a high school dance. Imagine me teaching this to a bunch of monks and nuns. Pretty hilarious, right? Now I've got it stuck in my head.

So it goes. There are worse things in the world.

The first step is the hardest

I totally just ordered breakfast in Hindi (and yes, I got what I wanted). He even asked me "How long have you been speaking Hindi? Your pronunciation is pretty good."

Lol.

I think I might come to eat here more often. That sounds like a good trade-off, right? He gets business, I get Hindi practice?

~~ In case you're curious, I spent a while this morning drilling the following:
Mujhko dijiye do ubbalne ande, aur namak aur kali mirch... Kya aap ke pas haraa chai? Thik hai, thank you. :)

As it turns out, there are a good number of English words that Hindi speakers throw in to the mix; in this case, I was told to simply say "boiled" instead of "ubbalne" for my eggs. Also, the Hindi "dhanyavad" seems to be more formal and less used than simply saying "thank you." Cool, eh?

What did you do over the holiday?

Oh my goodness... my students are great.

I have them write a reflection after every test, and every time we have any days off from class I have them write about what happens during the holiday. Last week we had the entire week off; HH the Dalai Lama was teaching Monday-Thursday, and so Tibet Charity decided to just close for the whole week since it didn't make much sense to have class only on Friday.

This evening I was procrastinating, whining internally about having to grade so many tests (not that many, really.. it was definitely whining) – I studied Hindi, I graded a little at a time and rewarded myself with other activities like rewinding the yarn I bought or doing push-ups, or making a list of reasons to stay until December and another list of reasons to leave a few weeks early. Eventually I decided to just buckle down and finish grading. After I got through the tests – which wasn't that bad – I remembered I still had to correct the papers on what they'd done last week.

Once I actually started doing it it went so quickly... lol... Their writing is a bit dry and predictable (usually) when they have to write about “your daily routine” or when they are asked to answer specific questions. When I let them write about what they want, though, some of them get really creative. I have a few students who must be getting pretty comfortable with me and/or with the English language, because they express these colorful, lively stories.

As it turns out, a few of my students went out to the Rewalsar/Manali area last week as well. One told me about how he and his friend got sick on the bus and threw up on the way to Rewalsar. He said that when he got there he “saw lake and statue so strong faith, but in the lake lot of fish so a little compassion.” Only Buddhists! He also worked in some of the vocabulary words we'd been using in conversation class. He did not vomit on the way back.

Another student, one of the monks, told me about how he and a friend went down to Lower Dharamsala to shop, and how they stopped for sweets and sweet tea. They met another friend on the way back who suggested they all go get some more sweets – and how they had a fun little discussion about how they couldn't keep eating like that because they'd get sick, and it's a good thing he bought new shoes to exercise!

Part of the test was to answer questions like “What do you always do?” and “What do you sometimes do?” Many of them answered that they always study English, but one said she always dances at home. I gave all of those answers smiley faces. Maybe they'll get stickers, too.

A few of my students begin nearly every writing assignment with “Hi dear teacher, how are you?” or “Dear teacher Magda...” I think it's cute. It's stuff like this that makes me want to stay. Regardless of when I leave, I'm going to miss them. I have a few of their email addresses; I'll have to get more of them. Maybe I can connect with some of them on Google+ (where you can filter who sees what much more easily than you can on Facebook). I have a few who ask if I'm teaching conversation class or if another teacher is; I suspect that they play favorites, and I know at least one of them comes to my class and not the others. I admit it makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy inside.

As far as the coming-home plans, it looks like financially it'll be pretty much a wash between staying until December or coming home a few weeks early. I'll see how I feel after the trip to Rajasthan, I guess. There are plenty of teachers here and I spoke to the boss, who said it would be fine to go whenever I wanted, so that's nice to know.

On an unrelated note, it looks like my room threw up on my bed. I'm an artist, I tell ya... that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Organized chaos: it's how I work best. I like having things neat and clean, but somehow I can never keep them that way for long. It just seems to futile to constantly be putting things away when you know they're just going to get taken out again... right? Plus when it's as humid as it is here, you almost have to leave your clothes out in an attempt to let them dry, unless you aren't concerned about that pesky mildew smell.

And now, since I did manage to finish grading all of these tests, I think I am going to reward myself with a bit of knitting before I get back to studying Hindi, or designing some kind of grammar drills for class. I think they need a little more structure in their writing assignments, and it's my job to provide that. Giving them sentences on the board to correct as a class has also gone over well in the past; I should come up with some more of those to give them. Hmmm......

Suggestions?

More Manali

One more way India differs from the US: if you want a cup of coffee in the morning – at least one that isn't the instant powdered kind – you're going to have to wait. You know how most cafes, Starbuckses, etc are open by 5 or 6 in the morning? Yeah, here they chill until 9. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the locals all drink tea.... I suppose it's a really nice thing if you work in one of these cafes, but if you are a visitor looking for that morning caffeine fix, you might want to seek alternatives.

So, dear readers, while I am waiting for 9am to roll around I will be a good little blogger and tell you about the last couple of days, since as you may have noticed I was slacking a little bit on that front.

We've arrived in Manali on Tuesday evening. The first couple of days were spent exploring, sightseeing, and generally wandering around.

Yep, real life snake charmer.

We did fun things like visit one of the old local Hindu temples.

There is some really intricate wood carving on some of the old buildings in Manali, unlike I've seen in other places. Oh, and skulls.

Gill and I sat on a yak. It was very soft, but not quite as big as I expected. Maybe smaller yaks are easier to maintain here at relatively low altitudes (around 2000 meters).

We took some photos..

This is a Tata Nano. I see more cars like this here than any other... doesn't it kinda look like my Yaris at home?

The marigolds (and roses, and everything else) get really tall here, presumably from all the monsoon rain.

It's apple season in Himachal Pradesh.

If you look closely you can see both English and Tibetan writing on this wall under the painting. I found it to be a nice change from English overtaking everything it contacts; here the English has been covered up by Buddhist art.

Oh yeah, the hotels have cool names. Ours is called "The Dragon."

Yesterday for breakfast we decided to check out a little place we'd passed earlier called “Dylan's.” It, like the few other cafes that carry the stuff, advertises that you can get real brewed coffee there.

It was pretty darn good.

Verity finally found a good soy cappuccino!

What's that, you say? Fresh pineapple mint juice? Don't mind if I do...

There was a cast & crew running around Manali all day shooting some film, so we watched that for a while. They did not ask us to be extras (inconsiderate jerks).

After our nice relaxing morning we wandered down toward New Manali to purchase some gifts (and maybe a couple of things for ourselves, too).

Not the greenest city park I've ever seen...

No, I did not try one.

Later, Marie, Verity, and I took a detour through the woods near the river:

and found this cool tree:

and then on the way back into town we wandered down a side street filled with dhabas. They were impressed that I could decipher this sign:

In case you're wondering, it's: Chai - Coffee - Omelet in the red, and the blue reads: Veg momo, Chicken momo, Fried momo... (I'm actually not sure what the first word on the second line of blue says), then Soup, Chowmein, Dal, Chavel (which means rice). Cool, eh?

The three of us decided to try some dessert at the little place across the main road from our hotel, The Bee's Knees. I'm not sure if I mentioned it before, but in Dharamsala most of the businesses that provide wi-fi to their customers have passwords that reflect the spiritual, heavily Tibetan makeup of the town: “compassion,” “thankyousomuch,” “ilovemandala,” or sometimes more food-oriented ones like “bananacake” or “mochaccino.” It's cute. You get used to expecting a sweet, New-Age-y answer when you ask for the password after ordering your ginger lemon honey tea. That being said, you may be able to imagine our reaction when we asked for the password at The Bee's Knees and was told...

are you ready for this?...

“1nightstand69.”

Bahahahahaha.... well played, Bee's Knees cafe.

As I was telling my sister last night, I'd be alright with coming home any time now. I like it here, and I have actually been feeling a surprisingly low level of homesickness (maybe it's because I know I'll be back soon), but what I have been feeling lately is a sense that I have things to do – and I have to be home to do them. I miss my job and the paycheck it brings. Money certainly isn't everything, not by a long shot, but when you've spent two straight months spending your savings and not making much back, if any, then it gets a little tiring. Life in India is cheap, but it isn't free.

In closing, I leave you with photos of some of the local doggies:

In which I eat real tandoori chicken

A trip to Lower Dharamsala was made today, and Brij took us to what he has proclaimed to be one of his very favorite restaurants in the area: a place tucked back behind the main road where he could eat every day and never get tired of it. I have no idea if the restaurant even has a name... I imagine it does, but that sort of thing doesn't seem to be so important around here.

Fresh meat market. Not my usual kind of place, but thankfully it wasn't exceedingly gruesome.

Real Indian tandoori chicken, naan, and fixin's.

We ordered tandoori chicken with naan and some rice, and as in most restaurants here, we got a plate of sliced red onions to go with the meal.

No, I do not eat much meat. I was feeling like I could use some protein, though, and I figured I'm in India – tandoori chicken is one of those things that just seems like part of the experience. Furthermore, as far as I can tell there are no such things as factory farms here, and none of the meat I've seen since I got to India has looked like it was on any kind of hormones.

Let me tell ya... it was pretty damn good. That poor little chicken, at least, did not die in vain. Its sacrifice was very much appreciated.

After lunch we moseyed through town and Marie and I stopped in practically every fabric store we saw – which was close to a dozen of them – because she wanted to have a salwar kameez (traditional Indian dress) made and I was looking for fabric for a chupa (traditional Tibetan dress). I think I found some that I really like. Since I'll be here a while yet I decided to sleep on it before I bought anything. I really wish we had fabric stores like these near home in the States. They're like candy stores for us textile-aphiles. Marie and I decided we'd go back down sometime, just the two of us, and take our sweet time perusing the fabrics when we didn't have other people to worry about boring.

Now THAT is what I call a selection of colors!

The pretties! Look at them!

On our way down to the bus/Jeep stop to head back to McLeod Ganj, we spotted this little gem. The photo op was too good to pass up.

Isn't this a nice pic, Brandi? It made me think of you. <3

In other news, my knee is nearly healed up, I decided to cover up some of the stubbornest dirt on my walls with what we'll call a mural, and Brij has given me two and a half more pages of Hindi vocab to study. There has also been talk of travel for the next few weekends, and hopefully it will involve dancing! Stay tuned for details.

To TED or not to TED

We saw this guy on the way up to McLeod Ganj this evening:

There were some snails too, but I'm having trouble with the uploading thing tonight.

Gill, Marie, Brij, and I spent most of the day in Lower Dharamsala roaming the place and just generally looking around. There was supposed to be a TEDx talk in the area, but according to the website the venue was simply "Dharamsala, India." I hate to break it to you, TED, but Dharamsala is a whole city, and a sprawling one at that. We had originally intended on attending the event, but after the very rainy morning and the fact that we weren't sure where to go, we decided instead to just go wherever seemed like a good idea at the time.

When we got back, I helped Brij get some splinters out of his hand (he had also taken a spill earlier in the week) and he helped me do this:

Yeah, it's time to quit being a slacker tourist and learn the local language. Yes, English is technically an official language of India and yes, 90% of the signs here are in English. Everybody seems to prefer speaking Hindi, though, and I can't think of a good reason not to learn at least a few key phrases. Wish me luck. ;)

New Friends All Around

This morning I woke up in my new room and decided it was cozy. I did some laundry because it was gloriously sunny outside; I think the monsoon season is in fact on its way out. This is exciting news indeed -- the promise of dry clothing and bedding is near!



My new residence, Pause Dwelling, has these great big communal balconies on each floor that also have clotheslines that we can use. Since Brij and I are currently the only occupants on the 3rd floor, we get to spread out basically as much as we'll allow each other. This is especially fantastic because I am still trying to get out of the mindset of not doing laundry until I have a full load -- a great idea back home so I save water, but completely irrelevant here since washing machines exist only at the fanciest of laundry service places, and it's much cheaper to buy some powdered detergent and use the bucket that's provided with the room -- and so at any given time I've got a fair amount of clothing that needs to be cleaned. I managed to wash a few of my favorite items and find spots for them in the sun. As I was doing this Ricky, one of the guys who seems to be in charge around here, told me that we still needed to do my check-in paperwork and could I bring a copy of my passport sometime soon, please?



I told him I'd see if I had one in my room, as I had made a few copies earlier in the trip because I was informed by others who had traveled abroad that this would be a good idea (thanks, Jillian and Cory). Sure enough I had one and so I followed Ricky downstairs to the office where he took out a huge ledger and invited me to have a seat at the nearby padded bench. I had forgotten that everything in India takes a while; it's not just a matter of "let me look at your license, how will you be paying for that? *click click click* Here's your room key" like it is in the US. In India things are done by hand. Here it isn't uncommon for shop proprietors and the like to invite their customers to have a seat, and I've found that it's usually a good idea to take them up on the offer because it's their way of telling you you'll be there a while.



Ricky, an Indian guy who looks to be more or less my age, set to writing my information in the book. After a while one of the older men who works here came out and offered me some tea -- it's all called "chai" here, and none of it tastes like the chai we have in the States; I'm pretty sure it's black tea with milk and sugar in it -- which I accepted since by this point I'd been hanging around for a good fifteen minutes longer than I'd anticipated and I figured why not? Ricky finished getting me in the system, as it were, and asked me about home. Do I have family in the United States? Yes, my parents and one sister. Do I live with them? I live with my dad. Is my sister older or younger? She's a few years younger. She lives with her boyfriend... actually, her fiance, they're getting married.



This led to a discussion about weddings in which we found that people tend to spend an awful lot of money on them both in the US and in India, but in India everything is of course cheaper by default. He suggested with a wry smile that maybe they should have their wedding in India to save some money -- nevermind the fact that plane tickets are not cheap by any means. (But hey Lon and Dan, maybe it's worth looking into...?) ;)



He asked me if Obama was popular in the United States and I told him what I have objectively noticed, that his popularity has been falling the last few years. We talked about how politics in general doesn't benefit the average person and how we'd just as soon have nothing to do with it. I told him how life is not easy in the US even though the standard of living is very high. He told me that in India there are many people who don't have much, but they also don't owe much. It's not like in the west where there is always someone -- a bank, the government -- coming after you for money. He told me that people who live in villages don't have as much access to education, for example, but they also are largely farmers and craftsmen who support themselves and each other, and they don't need to rely on the government for as much. This in and of itself appeals to me. Obviously there are drawbacks to this lifestyle, such as the relinquishment of certain comforts and luxuries (like education, unless you find a way to tackle that point), but it's certainly something that might be worth considering.



An hour and a cup of chai later, and after a cheerful promise to trade English practice for Hindi lessons, I told Ricky I was going to let him get to his work and I'd hit up the ATM so I could pay him for the room. "It's no problem," he said in the easy way that most Indians tend to. No one ever seems to be in a rush here. He had asked if I'd been to Dharamkot for pizza yet; I have not, but everyone keeps telling me I have to go because it's amazing. When I suggested that we go sometime he asked my schedule; when I asked for his to see what times might coincide he smiled and said that he could go pretty much whenever. Around here if you want to leave for a while you leave for a while, as long as there is someone to cover for you. It's not like other places where you must stay at your post until your shift is over, there is no one micromanaging, and as long as everything gets done, everyone is happy. It's much more laid back, according to him, and I must say that my observations support this.



Thankfully, Brij was home when it started to rain early this afternoon, and he moved my laundry to a dry area since I wasn't back yet. Later, as I sat here on the balcony enjoying the rain, typing up this post, Ricky happened by and struck up a conversation, and then offered me tea. I already feel like I'm becoming part of a small community in my new Dwelling. I think I'm going to enjoy living here.

I went out for lunch today and ran into a few friends: Tashi, Tashi, Alexandra from London, Rico from Colorado, Sonam, and Sertso; you might remember them from sushi a few posts back. Tashi the monk mentioned that there was going to be a show of traditional Tibetan song, dance, and drama at TIPA tonight, the Tibetan Institute for the Performing Arts. The Tashis, Alex, and I were the only ones who wound up going.



It was pretty awesome.



The dances involved a lot of stomping, brightly colored costumes, and cool hats, and the content revolved largely around the everyday lives of the average Tibetan: farming. One dance even had people dressed up in yak costumes. The guy sitting next to me asked if I could understand the Tibetan. Of course I said no, but I was enjoying it anyway. He proceeded to translate much of the rest of the show for me, which was a big help during the two acting pieces at the end. They both revolved around the prompt “the importance of preserving the Tibetan language.”



The first was a drama that included a surprisingly convincing depiction of both a fight between Chinese police and students, and later a self-immolation.



The second was a comedy that opened with a great scene of modern McLeod Ganj. I felt like an insider since I actually recognized what was going on even if I couldn't understand the language.



Now we're sitting back at the Clay Oven where Alex couldn't believe they were actually playing Blink-182. I informed her of the amazing music selection this place has, and now we are having some cheesecake, and Diamonds by Rihanna is on the radio and I really, really wish I had a hula hoop.

Waking up early can pay off

In my last post I made mention that I have been in India for about a month. Earlier today it occurred to me that it's also been a year since I quit working at Hanger – the end of August is an important time! It seems fitting, then, that I am looking at a 6-day vacation celebration. And then we go back to class for one day, and then it's the weekend so we have 2 more off. Hooray!

Don't get me wrong, my students are fantastic. I'm having a blast teaching here at TC, but come on, who doesn't appreciate a bunch of days off all in a row?

My classes begin at 11am now, so I've got a little time in the mornings to myself. Yesterday I purchased a couple of pairs of pants from one of the roadside vendors only to find that one of them was way too big for me. This morning I decided to run up to McLeod Ganj to exchange them. On the way I scouted out some turquoise earrings; I only brought 2 pairs of earrings to India with me, and turquoise is abundant in these parts, so I figured I'd get some. I stopped at a stall run by a Tibetan man who had a 7 month old baby with him (I asked, I don't have some magical ability to tell an infant's age) and he gave me the prices on his wares. After checking my wallet I realized I had only brought about 200 rupees with me; he was asking 350 for the ones I liked. He asked how much I'd give him for them (that's how it usually goes here) and I said I could only give him 150, because that's all I had. I wanted to stop for tea on the way back and that's usually about 30-40 rupees. He told me that he'd give me a “first customer of the day discount,” and if I gave him the 150 then I could bring him the other 100 later. Seriously, he suggested it. So not only was I getting a 100 rupee discount (almost 25%), but he was letting me walk off owing almost half of it. How could I turn that down?

So I agreed, paid him the 150 rupees, and set off to do the rest of my business. On the way back down I had a cup of masala tea and a chat with a dear friend, and then I went to teach class.

After class was over I made my first solo venture to Lower Dharamsala where I picked up my custom made salwar kameez, some spices and fruit, and a few odds and ends I'd decided I could use. General merchandise tends to be cheaper down there than it is in McLeod. On the trek back up it started raining. Of course. I didn't accept any rides from taxis – or the one guy on a motorcycle who offered – mainly because I was timing how long it took me to make the trip on foot, and also because it wasn't cold even though I got soaked by the time I made it to my place. I don't mind walking in the rain now and then.

Thirty minutes to get there, and about 35 to get back, for anyone who's interested. I was a little surprised; I felt like it took forever to make my way up all those steps.

One hot shower and a tiny bit of video gaming later, I headed back into McLeod Ganj to pay off my balance on the earrings and find some dinner. I wound up at The Clay Oven, which thankfully seems to make better sweet & sour veg than the last place I ordered it. They've also got pretty good internet, such that I was able to have a couple of Skype conversations and, as you can see, post this blog. This makes me happy. The food is pretty good, the atmosphere is nice, the internet is solid, but the thing that decided for me that I'll be back is the music: since I got here I have heard Sweet Home Alabama, Wonderwall, Imagine, Ironic, Pretty Woman, and How's It Going to Be (omg omg omg) as well as a handful of other songs that fall into that "I really dig this old song but I have no idea what it is or who sings it" category. Well played, Clay Oven. You had me at Third Eye Blind.

I may finally be getting this Skype thing figured out as far as which places in town have good enough internet to support it, so those of you who haven't connected with me there yet (Lindsey, Casey, I'm looking at you!) should hit me up. Also! Who wants to learn Esperanto with me? I will give you Skyping priority if you do! (Read this to find out why I'm taking this detour on my way to learning Hindi. Check out the rest of his page too, this dude is pretty cool.)

Serendipity

Today, Tuesday, was the last day in this series of teachings His Holiness the Dalai Lama was doing at the temple here in McLeod Ganj. He had been talking about the merits of secular morality, meaning that we all ought to practice kindness and compassion regardless of our religious outlook. I enjoyed it until he started getting into the more specific Buddhist material, at which point I got a little lost since my understanding of Buddhism is pretty rudimentary.

Anyway, this morning I hung around my room for a little while looking up useful Hindi phrases on my translation app. I felt like this was a good use of my time since, you know, I'll be living in India for another 3 months. The result as far as my morning schedule, however, was that I got to the temple a little late. We got funneled up a side staircase and had to pick our way through the crowd to the hall in front of the main temple area, inside which HH sat when he did his teachings. The crowd was blocked by a security guard; we waited there for about 15 minutes, presumably to allow HH enough space to walk by and do his thing, before we noticed some people peeling off to the right, navigating their way through the section of seated monks, and into the “English Language Room” where we had been sitting the last two days.

After a few moments of consideration, Julie and I decided to follow. We got into the room and put our things down in our spot, and moved up to the doors where we'd seen HH the previous two days. Since we were late, there were already a bunch of people sitting here. It might sound odd since there were hundreds, maybe a thousand or more, people in the temple for the teachings, but I didn't recognize most of these people; I was sure they hadn't been there before today. I sighed and accepted that I probably wouldn't get any better of a view of HH than I had Sunday or yesterday, so I plopped myself down next to one of the previously mentioned dreadlock-laden neo-hippies. (I will say, though, that he had damn nice dreads. Not messy and dirty like some of them are.)

As I sat there I considered: there was a spot between the wall and a man who had been sitting in front of us during the teachings. If I could get over there I'd at least be closer to the door, and I figured why not? Something told me sitting there was the only chance I'd have at getting close to the man everyone was there to see. I decided it couldn't hurt and climbed over a couple other tourists' outstretched legs and said good morning to the man. We waited patiently.

It became obvious that His Holiness was close by when we heard laughter from the back of our room – his, and then that of a bunch of other people. I have no idea what he said; it could have been anything. He has, after all, referred to himself as a “professional laugher.”

He made his way around the outside of the room just as he'd done the last two days, and we saw the monks come by with incense and a couple of press guys come by with cameras. HH appeared and gave us a hearty “Good morning!” which was returned in like and with the Tibetan equivalent “Tashi delek” by everyone close by. He addressed the guy in dreads, asking where he was from; “Australia” was the response, accompanied by a grin. He put out his hands toward the monk and the rest of us did the same – if not now, it might not happen at all. He took each hand in turn. Mine was last, and he held my hand there for a few seconds, during which we smiled and bowed slightly to each other.

Then he moved on around the temple. We returned to our seats. And I couldn't help but think that it was a good day, that confidence and assertiveness were good qualities to cultivate, because without them I'd have sat back down lamenting the fact that I hadn't left my room earlier. Instinct definitely played a part, but unless you act on it, instinct means nothing.

I may not be a “believer” in the sense that many others are, but I think most of us will agree that there are some people you just “get a feeling from.” Sometimes it's a good feeling, sometimes it's not; I can certainly say that I got a good vibe off of this most famous of monks, a man who is proclaimed to be the embodiment of compassion.

Tibetan bread was passed out by young monks carrying big metal buckets, as it always is at these big gatherings, and to our delight today it was still warm. We nibbled on it as the teaching began.

Today HH talked about how negative emotions are nothing more than misconceptions, that the mind naturally wants to be peaceful. He touted the merits of meditation and spoke of the basic precepts including mindfulness, vigilance, and concentration.

Today was a day of ceremony. His Holiness led blessings “of the mother,” who I believe is called Punji Paramita, and he also led bodhisattva vows that laypeople could take if they intended to “take refuge in the Buddha” and pursue enlightenment so that they could “benefit all sentient beings.” He said that those who did not feel they could take such a vow right now could still participate, as long as they had the intent to take the vows soon. He spoke of the practice of bodhicitta, which would “set yourself on the path to happiness.” He said that much the same way that the sun, the wind, the plants belong to no one in particular and we should all benefit from what they can offer, so too should we strive to attain “liberation” so that we can serve as conduits for peace for other living beings.

He wrapped up the teaching itself by speaking about how form and emptiness are dependent on one another. He said also that it was important to meditate daily on Emptiness. We must develop the wisdom to see what is worth studying and what should be avoided.

Generally speaking, the whole thing was a pretty cool experience. A lot of the more specific points went over my head, but the overarching lesson – that we be kind to each other, and compassionate toward all other living things – is certainly one I can get behind. I also have a significant amount of respect for any religious leader who genuinely urges his followers to seek the truth for themselves and not just do it because he said to. I'm not involved enough to know whether this is a surface claim in Buddhism or if most actually practice this through and through, but any religious leader who opens a 3-day teaching by calling into question the usefulness of faith, to me, is worth hearing out.