In, and right back out again.

Alright, people!

I've now been back in the US for nearly 2 months. I'm ready to get back out.

The mobsters at Sallie Mae want their money, and my part time job -- as much as I love it -- doesn't quite cut it in the face of massive American student loans. Therefore, I have begun to look for somewhat more traditional employment. Bummer, right? My millennial self thinks so, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. A few years working for The Man and then pay for everything else in cash seems like it might be the way to go.

I've got a few leads that could take me to Brooklyn, Chicago, Milwaukee, or even Utah. I've considered going back to school for something practical like engineering. And then, earlier this evening, one of my fellow ESL teachers from Tibet Charity floated the idea that we pursue a joint teaching venture in Japan. Now THAT sounds interesting.

In other news, my venture to the Pacific Northwest is drawing nearer! In just a little over a week I'll be on my way out to Seattle, and from there roaming around the general area as far as, perhaps, Portland, Vancouver, and somewhere further into the interior of British Columbia. Mostly I'm looking forward to the super-fresh sushi.

Stay tuned for pix!

(Oh, and the Japan jobs want us to start in March/April... so it could be that I'm back in Illinois for a month or less before heading overseas again. Talk about doing things last-minute!)

Go with what you know

Well, friends, this is it. Yesterday I spent the entire day running around McLeod Ganj spending time with my remaining friends; all the other foreign teachers at Tibet Charity have taken off already. It was a busy day, but a fun one.

I went for lunch with Kalden and Mike at Tibet Kitchen. I figured I should have Tibetan food for my last meal in the home of HH.

Mmm, thenthuk.

Then we went down to Nick's for dessert. Nick's has the best dessert in town.

And apparently their cappuccinos are good, too!

Me in my cool new hat Kalden gave me (it really goes with the chupa, doesn't it?), with Mike on Temple Road. XD

I had tea with the managers at Villa Paradiso and visited a few other friends before packing the last of my things and heading downstairs. Anil made me some gobi parantha for the road. While I waited on that, I looked out over Dharamsala one last time from the balcony. It's a view I'm going to miss.

The taxi that the guys at New Varuni called for me took me up to the bus station where I was met by a bunch of my students, Kalden, and Mike.

Yup... more katas!!

After half an hour of teary goodbyes and lots of hugs -- how can you not get a little misty-eyed when your students tell you things like "I will never forget your kindness"?? -- I got situated on the bus ("a very nice Volvo," just like when I first came here) and away we went.

If you look reeeeeeeeeeal close you can see me in my turquoise blouse in the middle of the bus.

And so the 12ish-hour bus ride to Delhi was underway. This time I was seated next to a youngish jewelry salesman named Dhaval who was quite friendly. I popped a couple motion sickness pills but still had to lay back, close my eyes, and concentrate on not vomiting for the first 4 hours or so. They even handed out little plastic bags, I assume for this purpose. I love the mountains, but I do not love driving in the mountains.

We stopped for dinner at a nice haveli; I didn't eat because it didn't seem worth it. I was sure I wouldn't have been able to keep it down.

When we reached Delhi, the bus drivers wanted to drop everyone off at the Kashmere Gate. Apparently it's where most tourists go, and as far as I can tell it's more or less a hub for travel. Luckily, there was one Tibetan guy on board who also wanted to go to Majnu Ka Tila, the Tibetan colony, so we stuck together and they took us there. He helped me off the bus with my things and down to AMA Hotel, where I stayed way back in July when I first arrived in India.

My plan was to stay in a neighborhood called Paharganj, per Brij's recommendation, but I was unfamiliar with the area, the hotel guy there wasn't the best about giving me information over the phone, and I had gotten dropped off IN DELHI at 4:30am. I was by myself at this point and not comfortable with hopping into any random taxi. So I went to AMA and the hotelier there was very friendly even though I'd woken him up at a ridiculous hour. It took us a little while because of the language barrier -- his English was fairly decent, but my Hindi is limited and my Tibetan is practically nonexistent -- but eventually I decided I'd just take the one room they had left and they'd book a taxi to the airport for this evening for me.

It was such a relief to get to a familiar place. If you're ever in Delhi, this is a nice place to stay. They have a really excellent restaurant downstairs, too!

I went out into Delhi via rickshaw to grab the last couple of Indian things (as opposed to Tibetan ones) I needed before coming home. I didn't even freak out! It was surprisingly unstressful during daylight hours. There are about a zillion people, sure, but I guess I'm more or less used to it now. It's not so bad.

One thing I've found that has made traveling solo much more bearable is that most people are helpful if you just ask. It's also been a tremendous help going places with people who know them the first time, and then returning later on my own. In this case, I was in Majnu ka Tila with Kalden and Palsang a few months ago, so now I don't feel so anxious about being back here. I don't particularly want to run around Delhi on my own for an extended period of time, but in this particular area I feel fine. The same thing with the Rajasthan trip: I passed through Pathankot on the train with Brij on the way down, and so when I went back on my own, I kind of knew what to expect. If I hadn't, then the whole train-breaking-down-in-the-middle-of-the-night thing would have really done a number on me.

I explained to the proprietors at AMA that I'd been here and I trusted them to take care of me, and they have been more than helpful. (I gotta write a bunch of TripAdvisor reviews.... maybe I'll do that at the airport!)

So now I'm hanging out in my hotel room, responding to "hey, just want to know how the trip is going" messages. Once I hit "publish" on this thing I'm going to take a shower, get dressed, grab a bite to eat at the restaurant downstairs, and make sure my luggage is arranged the way I want it. The taxi picks me up to take me to the airport in just over 2 hours... It should take about an hour to get there, and my itinerary requests that I report at least 3 hours prior to my flight time, so I should be fine. I'd rather be safe than sorry! Then I guess I'll see if I can find some airport wi-fi or sit down with a book and wait to board the long, long flight home. Altogether it's a little over 19 hours travel time, including the brief layover in Newark (only 1.5 hours this time). And with that... I'll be on my way back to American soil!

For all its shortcomings, India has endeared itself to me. I think I'll come back sometime. Who wants to join me?

Honorary Tibetans

I returned to my room last night with the intention of thinking up "a few words" to say at the closing ceremony for this semester, per Rinzin's request. I didn't have any luck. If I've learned anything over the years, it's that you can't force these kinds of things; if the mojo isn't flowing, go to bed and hope that it's better in the morning.

So that's what I did. As luck would have it, I woke up with all kinds of ideas for what I should say. I ran through it in my head for a few minutes, hopped up and took a nice, hot shower, and then sat down and typed. It's been a little while since I had to write a speech -- it was nice and nostalgic. See, being on the speech team and writing OOs for 4 years prepared me for the real world! I win!

I proofread it quickly and decided that exactly one page was the perfect length; I gave myself plenty of time to get dressed because I, like a few of the other teachers, decided to wear a chupa to the ceremony. They aren't difficult to put on, per se, but like anything new, I knew it'd take a little getting used to. Last week I'd had one custom made by Tibetan tailors in McLeod Ganj with fabric I bought down in Lower D'sala. THE FABRIC HERE IS SO CHEAP, and there is so much of it! I wish I could just load up my suitcases with the stuff and bring it home. Sadly, fabric is also heavy, there's a 50# weight limit on checked bags, and I have other things I need to bring back.

In my humble opinion, a chupa is a little easier to figure out than a sari. Saris are just 4 meters (give or take) of 1-meter-wide fabric. There are a whole bunch of different variations on how you can wrap them, but there's a basic technique you've got to get down. Chupas are more like dresses with a blouse underneath. I find them elegant, even the utilitarian ones.

For those of you keeping track, I now possess a wardrobe that includes traditional Indian clothing in the form of saris and salwar kameez, and traditional Tibetan clothes, my new chupa. In fact, I got such good feedback and the thing was so darn comfortable I decided to get a couple of more blouses made to go with it. I figure I can also copy the pattern and make more when I get home if I decide to.

Anyway, I managed to get into my nice new outfit and over to Tibet Charity with enough time to run upstairs and print off my speech. Everyone acted surprised and feigned intimidation when they saw I'd actually written something. To tell the truth, I hadn't planned on going up there with anything more than notes, but it just happened that I thought of a few specific things I wanted to say and besides, I didn't want to get caught up rambling. It was only one page. Come on, that's practically nothing.

We arrived at Tibet Charity and were instructed to sit at the table in front, with all the students seated on the ground in front of us.

Mr. Director-la gave a short speech and then Rinzin, the coordinator of the education section, said a few words and asked each of us volunteer teachers to do the same. The speeches were all touching. Each of us talked about the sincere pleasure it has been to work with the students here, how it has been a life-changing experience we will never forget, how we are all grateful to have been able to come here. I was confident that I wouldn't cry during my speech (for some reason... history is not on my side here), but my voice did get a little shaky when I talked about how welcome they'd all made me feel. I told them I hope they understand how strong their sense of community is and how special and powerful that is, because it doesn't exist everywhere, and not everyone has that. I'm pretty sure I saw one of my students recording the whole thing, so maybe you'll be able to look it up on YouTube...

I didn't cry though, and we finished the rest of the ceremony with no glitches aside from the fact that there was some sort of bulldozer operating in the lot next to TC. That was a little distracting. Luckily, I was on the speech team (as I believe I mentioned previously), so I know how to project my voice.

Afterward tea and snacks were served and many photos were taken. (Photo credit for everything in this post goes to Neil. Thanks, Neil!) You can contact him at

The 4 on the left are my students: Tandin from Bhutan, and Jampel, Karma, and Yangchen from Tibet.

The Tibet Charity nurses in their signature purple chupas.

My students insisted we go up to our classroom "because they had something for me." Gusti and I followed them upstairs, they sat us down in chairs at the front of the room, and two of our top students, Jampel and Yangchen, said a few words about how they were so thankful to us for everything we'd done over the semester. They presented us with the white katas the Tibetans use to show respect to one another. Each of our students in turn came up with a scarf for each of us; by the end of it all I had so many of them I looked like a yeti.

 
I am not ashamed to admit that about 2/3 of the way through something clicked in my brain, some connection was made, maybe regarding the finality of it all, and, well... I didn't make a whole lot of effort to stop the tears from coming. My students are so damned sweet. I'm going to miss them.

We took more and more photos. Some of the pre-intermediate students I hadn't actually had in class for the last few months wanted photos with me.

After everyone finally left for the day, I went home to change my clothes and then returned to Tibet Charity for lunch. The plan was for a small group of us volunteers to head down to Lower Dharamsala to buy a whole bunch of supplies for Tibet Charity with funds that we'd donated. There had been discussion in the previous weeks about how best to spend the donation; we eventually decided to get a range of consumables, like toilet paper and toner for the printer, as well as a few infrastructure-type things like a water filter and some kitchen equipment. It was fun little adventure.

In the evening, the volunteer teachers all went out for one last dinner before those of us who haven't gone yet start leaving town. The other Americans are heading out tomorrow morning, Van will be going a couple of days later, and I, one of the first to arrive, will be the last to go, on Wednesday evening. Now that the end is basically here, I feel like I could stay another few months. Maybe not so much in the winter... the nights are already quite cold. There isn't any heat in most buildings, either, so that means wearing layers and piling on the blankets. It's not so bad. It just kind of makes it tough to get out of bed in the morning.

I'll be glad to have a heated bedroom again in another week. How ridiculously cold is it in Illinois these days?

Our Elementary level class! I'm so proud!!

***If anyone is interested in donating to Tibet Charity:
For reasons involving a fair amount of bureaucracy and governmental red tape, it's better to send "stuff" than money. TC could use learning aids like flash cards, games, ESL readers, or even any books that are in good shape and written in relatively simple English. If you want more details or other ideas, send me a message and I'd be happy to make a list based on my experience here.

Tibet Charity
Lower Temple Road
McLeod Ganj, Dharamsala, Kangra Distt.
Himachal Pradesh, India 176219 ***

Pizza & Momos

This is it. I'm done teaching at Tibet Charity. Final exams were held yesterday; most of my students passed (a few of them have the extra credit to thank for that) and some did exceptionally well. 

Today Gusti and I took them out for a pizza party in Dharamkot. The students brought some momos, we ordered ten delicious pizzas, and everyone had a lot of fun.

They kept telling me to sit down and relax, but I can't help it -- I enjoy entertaining and if I'm in anything resembling a hostess position, I tend to get into it. I asked them if they have winter holidays coming up in Tibetan/Bhutanese culture aside from New Year's. They said no, but asked about what we've got in the US. I told them all about Thanksgiving (Happy T-day to my friends in the States!), which most of them seemed quite interested in, and they asked all kinds of questions about turkeys. I don't think they have them here. I told them how most Americans prepare a big meal for this holiday so the fact that we were all out having food together was, in a way, quite similar. It's like they'd gotten together to make a Thanksgiving-away-from-home for me, and they seemed pleased that they could do this.

They insisted on doing everything. The students wouldn't let Gusti or me cut the pizzas, they wouldn't let us serve the food, and they always gave us the first slices when a fresh one would come out. Tibetans can be very bossy, but when it's in the context of such hospitality, how can you get upset?

After finishing our lunch and taking a bunch of photos on a dozen different cameras, phones, and tablets, they instructed us to follow them "up to the mountain." When I asked how far they answered "not far," but pointed to some indefinite area wayyyyyyyy off in the distance. I joked that it would take so long I'd miss my flight home. I hadn't worn the proper shoes for a real hike; I knew we'd be taking pictures so I opted to wear my red jutis that I got in Jaipur. People have been telling me they're more like house shoes. This bothered me at first, but then I remembered: I don't wear shoes in the house. If they're shoes, and I'm wearing them, it's going to be outside.

I pointed this out to them, that I wasn't wearing anything that could possibly pass for hiking shoes. Jampel, the one monk, told me "the Bhutan guys are very strong, they'll carry you!" to which the "Bhutan guys" responded that Tibetans were stronger (it's true, they tend to be tall and tough in general), but one way or another they'd get me where we were going.

This is Dolker. She's super sweet, and a pretty good student, too.

The view just never gets old.

Eventually we came to a Hindu shrine where we took some more photos and then backtracked just a little to a grassy spot where we could chill, sing songs, and munch on snacks for a while.

When we finally headed back down to McLeod Ganj, they insisted on taking a shortcut -- the same shortcut that Kalden, Brij, Marie, and I took when we went up to Triund that one time. At one point my foot slipped a bit and I heard a chorus of "Ohhh!" from the students who were in the lead and down below us. Lobsang Dolma, one of my quietest but most thorough students, insisted on holding my hand the rest of the way to make sure I didn't fall, even though she had also earlier insisted on carrying my bag as well as Gusti's, even though she already had her own. "Tibetans are very strong," I observed. They asked me if the roads were "like this" where I live; I told them no, only in the forests in some places. Generally they are in much better condition. They seemed to take this as a perfectly good explanation as to why they could navigate the rocky, irregular path so much more easily than us westerners.

Regardless, we made it down with no casualties. What we had originally planned to be a 3-hour event turned into one that lasted all morning and into the afternoon. It was fantastic. I love the comfort level that you reach with people after seeing them nearly every day for weeks or months, and when the official business or class or whatever is done, everyone can just relax and have a good time together. This evening we had our last staff/volunteer dinner at TC, tomorrow morning we have our closing ceremony for the semester, for which I still have to put together a speech of some sort, and after that.... we're all done. I just have to tie up my loose ends around town as far as last-minute gift obtainment, pay my bill at the hotel, eat at my favorite restaurants once or twice more, pack up all of my stuff -- and decide what's not coming back with me -- and that's it. Get on a night bus to Delhi next Tuesday or Wednesday evening, make sure I tell my students ahead of time because I know at least a couple will want to see me off, and go. Exactly one week from this very moment I'll be somewhere in Indira Gandhi International Airport, maybe waiting to go through security, maybe chilling at my gate with a book, but I'll be having my final few hours in India. 

Four months sure flies when you're having fun. I knew it would.

Where should I go for my next trip? I've got a couple of places in mind, but I'm interested to see what kind of input I can get from my dear readers......

Down to the Last Few Days

Well, that's it. I taught my last day of class at Tibet Charity today. Tomorrow we have final exams, Thursday is a free day -- during which many of the teachers are having a little party or somesuch for their students; Gusti and I are taking ours out for pizza -- Friday is the closing ceremony, and that's it. Done. I have zero obligations thenceforth until I leave the country less than a week later.

I think my students will do well. Rather than give them a cumulative final I opted to just have a last chapter test. It seems shorter and easier than the others, so I hope they all do well. Today was a review day; we went over everything that will appear on the test and most of them took what appeared to be comprehensive notes, so I hope they study a bit and show me what they can do.

After class I met with Lobsang again, one of the pre-intermediate students, and we went over the material that was likely to be on his test tomorrow. They've been working on nothing/something/anything and how to use phrases like so do I, so can I, so have I, neither have I, etc. It's tricky trying to explain why you use one over the others sometimes, but what we decided on is you only really use so have I or neither have I when the sentence you're responding to appears in present perfect tense ("I have lived here for 5 years" -> "So have I", but "I live here" -> "So do I"). I'm not sure if this works in every case or even most of them, but it seemed to do the trick enough to at least get him through this test. He told me about how this class is the first English class he's taken; up until this point all the English he knows he learned from self-study and from asking people. It's inspiring. Many of my students are inspiring. Today I got the first real pang of sadness, knowing that in just a short time I'll be leaving them for a while, perhaps forever. I hope some of them keep in touch.

Lobsang walked me part of the way home because it was getting dark by the time we finished studying. One thing I like about India is that so many people seem concerned for one another. Their sense of personal space is much smaller than it is in the west; you see people walking down the street hand in hand all the time. The most noticeable difference is that most of them are men. It's very unusual to see two people of the opposite sex holding hands here, but two guys? I see it all the time. Two women? Also not weird, though considerably less common. Many of my students and friends here have offered to walk me home at various points throughout my stay, the monks especially. The sense of community here is strong, and I've felt welcomed from very early on.

I'll miss it. I'll miss them.

I've been getting asked a lot if I'll come back to India in general, and Dharamsala in particular. I tell them the truth: Probably not for a while, but I'd like to at some point. I like it here. It isn't perfect, but it's got a sort of honesty about it that I can appreciate. If you've never been to India, you should check it out. It's not as scary as the MSM would have you believe.

Back to Class

While I was in Rajasthan, Gusti and my class managed to get through two chapters in the textbook. They  had a test scheduled for today -- I try not to have them fall on Mondays, but we're in crunch time now so I just went with it; plus I haven't been here to object -- so I figured it would make for a nice, easy segue back into teaching mode.

When a few of my students saw me in the hall before class I got surprised looks and excited hellos. It was like they didn't expect me to actually come back after my trip! I suppose, to be fair, I had told them I'd be gone "2 or 3 weeks," and at the time I had been leaning more toward 2, so maybe it's not unreasonable that they thought I just decided to stay.

They were curious about my trip so I told them briefly about some of the highlights: riding camels in the desert, the broken train on the way back... but some of them tend to make use of the full 2 hours allowed on test day, so I didn't want to cut into that too much.

They seemed to struggle with the test. Even my strongest students regarded their papers with furrowed brows and made extra use of their erasers. Everyone took longer than usual to finish. I had to clarify a bunch of points, and even then they seemed to have trouble.

They all finished, though, and on time.

I just finished grading the stack of exams, and oh my goodness... they aren't looking very good. I'm not sure what happened, but they definitely weren't lying when a bunch of them told me as they turned in their papers that the test was "very difficult." I wound up giving everyone an extra 10 percentage points so their final grades wouldn't be too thrown out of whack; we won't have time to re-take them, and since I wasn't here to make sure they understood the material, I can't say for sure what happened. When everyone in a class fails to understand, though, I don't think you ought to punish the students because clearly something else is up. Maybe the material was too difficult, maybe they rushed through it... I'm not sure, but it's my opinion that a student's understanding of the material is far more important than a grade, and if they can communicate effectively in English then I see no reason to bum them out with poor marks when it's probably not their fault anyway.

It's for this same reason that I'm with Van on the subject of recognizing the top 2-3 students in each class at our closing ceremony (we're against it): it doesn't matter if you get better scores than your peers, what matters is being able to use the language.

Anyway, I'm glad that's over. I think we may spend most of class tomorrow going over the test and trying to understand what the heck happened.

On a completely unrelated note, the areas around my hometown got hammered by tornadoes yesterday. It's my understanding that most of the damage was to property; relatively few people were injured. I wish I were there to help out. :( This is the first time I really felt the distance from home: there's insanity happening near a great many of the people I care about, and there's not a damned thing I can do aside from follow it online. A friend sent me this message (I hope you don't mind me reposting it, you-know-who-you-are):

You travel across the world to help refugees and thus inadvertently escape the apocalypse back home. I don't believe in karma or anything, but yeah. Karma.

Huh. I hadn't even thought of it like that.

I Heart Army Guys

Friday was our final day in Rajasthan. It had been a very fun three weeks, but all good things must come to an end sooner or later, and I did also want to get back in time for the end of the semester at Tibet Charity. After one last morning of breakfast and chilling at the hotel, we made sure all of our belongings were segregated into the correct bags and headed into Jaipur.

I saw Brij off at the travel agency where his bus was parked, and then I made my way up the main road to the train station. I had made plans to head back to Dharamsala the way we had come, via a place called Pathankot. The train would take me there from Jaipur (over the course of some 13-odd hours), and then I'd catch a bus back to the mountains and my home base here in India. Altogether the trip was scheduled to take around 18 hours.

People treat me differently when I'm by myself. In the case of people who want money from me, i.e. rickshaw drivers and shopkeepers, they usually hike up the prices enormously and expect that I won't know any better. In the case of most other people, they actually tend to be quite nice. As I made my way down the train platform -- with a bit of attitude, because you gotta at least look confident at times like these -- I scanned the area trying to figure out where I needed to be to catch my ride. I stopped to consult my ticket and an Indian man in his fifties approached me and offered to help. Seeing as I didn't have a whole lot of wiggle room on the clock and the last thing I wanted at that point was to miss my train, I let him. As it turns out, he was going to the same train. We walked down, down, down to the signs stating the sleeper cars would stop there. He told me he was going to Alwar (which I had never heard of, but I'd become quite familiar with over the next day) and that I should stop off with him and stay at his place for a while. I'd like to think it's genuine hospitality that motivates people to make these sort of offers, as it's not the first time it's happened, but luckily I was able to politely decline by informing him that I really did need to get back to Dharamsala and just for good measure, I said that my husband was waiting for me so I couldn't afford any delays. That usually works. Regardless, he was very friendly and gave me his business card, saying that if I needed anything I should call him. There's no harm in having contact info, I suppose.

Bye bye, Jaipur! It's been fun!

Train toilet empties directly onto the tracks. There are signs posted asking passengers to "kindly not use the toilet when the train is at a station." Note the handle on the wall so you can keep your balance.

Every time we passed through a town, motorbikes waited in packs at all the railroad crossings. It was still early in the day when I boarded, about 5pm, so it was too early to sleep. I took a seat near the window in my berth and contemplated my surroundings. The car wasn't too full early on and I was by myself, so I was less self conscious about practicing my Hindi. I asked the people around me where they were going and got answers like "Jammu" and "Alwar." They asked if I was going to Agra and I responded "Nahin, mai Pathankot ja rahi hun." They all nodded and smiled politely, but nobody tried to keep a conversation going. I decided to study.

Every so often the guy who said he was going to Jammu would look up from his phone at me; when his dinner came he offered me some, but again I politely declined. Once an old Indian guy boarded and gestured for me to get up so he could set up his bed (the seat I was using) and Jammu guy told him to take it easy, motioning to me to just chill where I was and not worry about it. Time went on and the sunlight faded; we all got into our beds and arranged our belongings as comfortably as possible. I caught a few of the guys in my berth (there were 8 beds in it, mine was on the top on the one side) watching me and held eye contact long enough that they'd know I had noticed. I heard people say "Pathankot" in conversation from time to time and couldn't help but feel like they were discussing me. As a woman traveling alone in India, there's plenty to be cautious of.

I settled in and tried to sleep. My stop was scheduled for 6:05am, so I set my alarm for 5. In India, the cell phone companies send their customers messages whenever state lines are crossed; not long after I got the "Idea [the phone company] welcomes you to Delhi!" message, I noticed the ride got considerably louder and the car began shaking. It passed, though, and I decided to go back to minding my own business.

Some time later I realized that the train had suddenly become much, much louder and was packed with people. The man in the bunk next to mine told me that we had to get off the train; there was something wrong with one of the wheels and we were stopped, waiting for a new one.

What he said seemed consistent with what I'd observed earlier, and everyone seemed to be getting off the train anyway, so I decided to trust him. A young man of maybe 25, sitting on the bunk across the aisle, told me in pretty-good English that he had pulled the emergency brake and we were stopped in Delhi, and that he and his friends in the next berth were soldiers in the Indian army. He patiently explained to me that we had to get off the train while they either fixed it or a replacement was found. He offered for me to stick with them, which I gratefully accepted.

Delhi's chilly in the middle of the night.

We hopped out of the train onto the tracks, them giving me a hand down, and walked down the platform until we were in an area that was better lit. Some time later, an announcement directed us to Platform 5; the army guys helped me carry my bag and made sure I was with them the whole way. They asked where I was from, if it was difficult not speaking much Hindi (toro toro, I told them, which means "a little bit"), and they told me it was their duty to make sure that I was safe. They asked my name; I have taken to telling people my name is Maggie because it's difficult for native Hindi speakers to pronounce Magda and the noodles with the same name are very popular here. It's quite funny.

When the new train finally arrived and the PA system instructed us to board, Sandeep (the young guy with the good English) instructed me to follow -- "chello, ma'am" -- and they got me situated in the new train car and bought me a cup of tea (vendors come through the train every hour or so selling the stuff. It's big in India).

Around 2am, some 4 or 5 hours after we had first stopped in Delhi, we were on our way again. I managed to sleep a tiny bit, but I was anxious about missing my stop even though everyone knew where I was going and I'd like to think someone would have woken me up when we got there. In India, there are no signs or notifications for where the train stops, you are just expected to know when yours comes up. Not being very familiar with the area (<<understatement), I was relying almost entirely on other people to make sure I got where I needed to go, especially now that we were so off schedule.

The sun came up and people folded the beds back into bench seats. Sandeep and the guys invited me to sit with them; when they busted out their breakfast of parantha and subji, they insisted I eat with them. The moment I was finished one of them handed me a bottle of water.

It was such a huge contrast to the way I'd been feeling a few days prior. Brij had given me a pep talk the other night where he told me that even for him, days were sometimes really good and sometimes really crappy. Blending in with the locals wasn't always a good thing; the way people treat you can change 180 degrees from one day to the next, he said, and you just have to try not to let the bad days get to you. I definitely experienced that. Whereas earlier in the week I felt like people were marginalizing me whether because of my race or my gender, on this train ride I felt an immense amount of love and respect from these people I didn't even know, like I had suddenly acquired half a dozen big brothers who were not about to let anything happen to me. As I thought about it, I realized that most if not all of the guys who had been paying extra attention to me earlier were also soldiers; rather than being creeped out by them staring at me I probably should have been grateful that they were staying alert.

My Indian army guardian angels. <3

When Sandeep asked what my opinion was of the Indian army I responded as honestly as I could without admitting too freely to my ignorance on the subject: all the soldiers I'd met had been very kind and helpful. He seemed happy with this answer. He told me that it had been a privilege to get to know me and to help me, and to speak English with me, and that he hoped we could keep in touch. We talked about all kinds of things and upon his assertion that "it doesn't matter what religion people are, we are all humans" I told him that was a very wise thing to say; he humbly accepted the compliment and I could tell he made a mental note of the new vocabulary word.

When my stop finally came up, 4 hours later than originally scheduled, they helped me off the train, carrying my luggage just as they'd done for many of the other passengers before me. "We want to come with you to the bus station to make sure you get there okay, but we have to get to Jammu," Sandeep told me. They were all on their way there to take exams so they could be social studies teachers upon retirement from the army. I thanked them for all their help, they took a bunch of photos with me, and we wished each other good luck.

From there I had to take a rickshaw to the bus stand and catch a ride to Dharamsala, which was still 4 hours away. The guy dropped me off on the side of the highway which I only allowed because there were other people there who confirmed they were waiting for the same bus I was. When it finally arrived (about 40 minutes later), I breathed a sigh of relief because the trip from there on out should be relatively straightforward. I eventually made it back into familiar territory, caught a local bus up to McLeod Ganj, and stopped in to Tibet Kitchen for some momo soup because by that time I had been traveling for a straight 24 hours and I was beat. Kalden was out hiking for the day but had graciously left his place unlocked so I could go take a shower and a nap before setting out to find a place to stay for the remainder of my time in India.

Mmm, momos!

First thing this morning, that's what I did. I elected to splurge a bit and have a place with wi-fi and a restaurant, just a couple buildings down from my former residence of Pause Dwelling. Only 19 more days!

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.

Norbulingka redux

Verity and Samten Kyi.

Most of the volunteer teachers at Tibet Charity don't stick around for the full 4-month term. This means that many of the students have numerous different English teachers throughout their education here. When I first started at the beginning of August, I was teaching both the Elementary and Pre-Intermediate classes. I since handed the Pre-Intermediates off to Brij, and then he handed them off to Charlene. When Verity arrived a few weeks ago, she took on some students for conversation classes.

One of the students who has had me, Brij, Verity, and Charlene is Samten Kyi. She is an absolute sweetheart and her English is pretty decent. She and Verity have apparently hit it off really well, and often times for their conversation “classes” they just go for walks around town and talk about whatever comes to mind. Samten Kyi offered to take Verity to Norbulingka to show her the workshops there, and then Charlene and I got invited to go with them.

The workshops aren't open on the weekends – when I had gone to Norbulingka before – so, as those who speak British English say, I was keen to go again and see the Tibetan crafters at work.

As usual, one of my students, Gyaltsen, kept me after class so I could pronounce the vocab words he'd gotten from another teacher. After a few minutes I told him I had to get going because there was a taxi waiting for me; “Sorry, Teacher!” he said and scampered off.

Even though monsoon season is supposed to have ended a few weeks ago, we still get bouts of extreme fog and rain. I grabbed my umbrella – and it's a good thing, too – and we headed off down the mountain.

Just as we arrived at Norbulingka, it started pouring. We all jumped out and ran into the Tibetan cafe where we had decided to have lunch. Over thukpa (Tibetan soup) and tea, Samten Kyi explained to us that “yaks don't give milk. Yak wife gives milk” and that female yaks are called dri, although to hear her say it it sounded more like “drrr.” I didn't realize “yaks” were only male.

Luckily, the rain stopped just as we finished our meal and we were able to go watch some of the artisans at work: tailors, thangka painters, and weavers:

 

They have a Tibetan doll museum as well.

Samten Kyi showed us where she's from in Tibet:

Tibet has musk deer...

...Tibetan wolves, Himalayan bears...

... and Yetis, apparently.

Before we left we stopped in the gift shop. The things in the Norbulingka gift shop are very nice, with price tags to match; there was a strand of (very pretty) amber prayer beads... for 33,000 rupees! We didn't buy them. I did, however, seriously contemplate picking up one of the handwoven raw silk shawls (they were actually fairly reasonably priced).

Oh, and apparently an Indian reality show was being filmed when we were there.