Pinky meets the Golden Triangle

Jaipur was a completely different world.

It was under ten degrees in Srinigar, and we were still wearing our winter clothes when we left the airport and breathed in the desert air. It was thirty five degrees in Jaipur.

The beautiful lakes had been replaced with sand. The Himalayas and lakes- something which really made me think of Vancouver- no longer bordered the horizon. The well-cultivated Mughal gardens dotting the landscape had been replaced with ancient Rajashtani-style palaces and homes.

Our first order of business was finding a hotel. After saying goodbye to Joe at the airport, Shirish and I were backpacking together. Many hotels refused to let us stay together- something which frustrated me endlessly, but Shirish took with the grace of someone who is used to it.

By the time we were sorted in our hotel it was late. I was desperate to see the famous Jaipur markets so we set off despite the hour. The markets themselves are in the center of the old city, spanning many kilometers and separated in to blocks of different merchandise- fabrics, jewellery, art, cutlery, hardware. Each stall is built in to the pink-washed compounds that make up Jaipur's old city.

Hand-made, hand-printed, hand-everything Jaipur puppets

The flower market

I found the merchants to be incredibly unfriendly. Some of them refused to serve Shirish because he was an Indian. They had grown accustomed to busloads of tourists getting driven up from Delhi for the day who would pay almost any price named, and would therefore refuse to bargain with me.

Hoping for better luck souvenir shopping and a friendlier reception, we boarded the public bus early the next morning to Pushkar, just in time to catch the Pushkar Camel Fair.

Bradley, me, and Liam in our various camel-buying poses

We met up with friends from Pune: Bradley and Liam, two Canadians from Ottawa.

Pushkar itself is a small town, bulging with an overflow of people. The camel trading takes place just outside of town- although you can hardly tell because the rows and rows of stalls never stop.  Most of the trading had happened in the first two days of the festival, but there were still hundreds of camels and horses milling around-  mostly the old, skinny ones or the ones who were too expensive to buy. While we were there a horse was sold for over $200,000.

Although I didn't know it until we got there, Pushkar is also a very important religious site. It is built around a lake which is very important to Hindus- the actual story is very long and you can Wikipedia it. I don't quite understand the story, so I feel as if I would not be doing it justice by writing about it.

We happened to be in Pushkar right before Kartik Poornima. Thousands of people flock to the lake at this time of the year to bathe in one of the 52 ghats during the full moon to cleanse themselves of sin and, conveniently, skin diseases.

I wasn't quite convinced that jumping in the lake was going to cure me of any skin diseases I had managed to accumulate- I was more convinced that it would give me a bacterial infection- so I did not take the plunge.

During our stay, Bradley and I got cajoled in to getting henna done on our hands by some of the many gypsy women flocking the streets. Liam had already been tricked in to getting it done earlier- he had shaken the hand of a local, who promptly whipped her hand away and drew a henna design faster than he could jump back, for a payment of 200 rupees.

We agreed to pay 100 rupees for our henna- already twice the price of what it should normally cost. Bradley's henna artist immediately began working on an intricate design along his hands and fingers. My lady quickly drew a henna design on my hand.

I didn't intend to pay her any more than 50 for her terrible henna job. But as I opened up my wallet I could see her eye my money. Guilt gripped me and I gave her 200 rupees (around $4).

The effect was instantaneous. Bradley's henna artist followed us for the next half hour, trying to squeeze extra money out of him. Her shouts drew the attention of other gypsies, who promptly joined in. I don't think they knew what the fight was about, but they seemed to enjoy heckling and hollering at us as we walked down the street.

Sorry Bradley! : )

We had only spent the day in Pushkar, but the day was enough from me- although it was fun to be in the desert, and I definitely enjoyed the camels, Pushkar has turned in to a major tourist attraction. Some of its charm was lost to me among the crowds of photo-snapping tourists and hawkers that follow you wherever you go.

As Shirish and I walked out of the town in search for a bus that would take us to Jaipur, we passed thousands of pilgrims as they slowly headed towards the lake. They looked exhausted, but full of hope- their journey was almost over.  Passing them, seeing parents pull their children (suffering from the sin of having physical differences, or Down's Syndrome, or other incurable conditions) towards the lake, I felt slightly bitter. What would happen to those children, to the hopes of those parents, when nothing cured their children? I can't claim as a Canadian that our situation is that much better, but seeing this gave me some definite food for thought during the rest of our two days in Jaipur.

City Palace- I met an incredibly friendly local artist here who gifted me a drawing. 

Part of the Jantar Mantar- an incredibly clever observatory built  between 1727 and 1734.  The different devices inside can predict eclipses, tell you the correct time within 2 seconds, track the stars' location as the earth moves, and there are many more instruments that I did not understand in the slightest, but sounded very smart. If you are a fan of 'The Fall', the labyrinth was filmed in here.

The Hawa Mahal- Palace of Winds. It forms part of the City Palace, and is where the royal ladies lived.

The view from Hawa Mahal- you can see the  Jantar Mantar. Further behind it to the right is the main part of the City Palace- although the Jantar Mantar and the Hawa Mahal are still considered to be part of the palace.

Amber Fort

The view from Amber Fort. 

The Jal Mahal- a large palace just outside the city. Unfortunately, it is closed to visitors. However, I was so disappointed Shirish promised to build me one. Prepare to visit it on your next trip to India.

The Taj at sunrise

We finished our trip with a quick night stop in Agra in order to see the Taj. We arrived in Agra late, and then woke up early to see the Taj at sunrise.

By this point both Shirish and I were sick. It was a huge relief to get to Delhi and stay in the Tibetan quarters there- another highlight of my trip. We stayed in the Hotel Ama, a hotel recommended to us by a friend because she had been sick on the train and the owner let her stay there for free until she recovered.  We found the staff and owners to be just as hospitable for us as they were for her, going as far as to try and not let us pay for our last day in Delhi.

I recovered from my illness by feasting on Tibetan bread, momos, and noodle soup. I had never had Tibetan bread, Tibetan momos, or Tibetan noodle soup before, and I'm pretty sure that I ate my weight in it during out weekend stay.

Less than three weeks left in India now- I can't believe how fast it's gone, with still so much I want to see and do.

I'm working up at the Deep Griha rural school for the next two weeks, setting up a program for their students with disabilities, and then am taking the last week off for myself to fit in one more mini trip. I would welcome suggestions!

Kashmir - 'The Jewel of India'

It’s also touted as the ‘Switzerland of Asia’ and ‘Paradise on Earth’. Think of snow-capped mountains, rolling green hills, with beautiful bright blue lakes and rivers nestled in the valleys. Srinagar, our point of destination, was built around several huge, beautiful (and pollution-free!) lakes, surrounded by mountains. Many of these mountains had ancient forts or gardens built at the top which lit up beautifully in the night, making the Himalayas look as if they had been painted on as background scenery.

I was travelling with two friends: Shirish and Joe. While Shirish and I had the dubious pleasure of going through airport security in Srinagar, Joe hitched rides through Northern India- an experience which, after seeing his pictures, I have vowed to come back as soon as possible and repeat.

Our hotel owner, Faisel, was a constant source of annoyance and entertainment. The hassle-free trip we experienced in Kashmir came at a price: listening to hours and hours of Faisel’s views of the world. And believe me when I say: the man has a lot of opinions (particularly about himself). At the same time, I have to admit that our trip probably wouldn’t have gone as smoothly without his help. Most of the guidebooks we read had very little to say about Srinagar- for the last few years the city has gone through crippling curfews, making tourism here very difficult. To top it off, the huge army presence and unstable political situation means that very few international tourists come and visit Kashmir, and the number of Indian tourists have been steadily dwindling. 

I arrived in Kashmir in the middle of the afternoon, and with Faisel’s help we visited three of the four Mughal gardens Srinagar is famous for- built as pleasure gardens in different areas of the city (all of them with stunning views, ingenious fountains, and beautifully planned gardens) by the Mughal Emperors, who would retreat to Kashmir hundreds of years ago to escape the Indian summers.

Shirish and I at the top of Pari Mahal, the highest garden (this was a few hours after we got off the plane, and the only day it was cold and rainy). We are wearing the traditional ponchos that the men wear during cold seasons- underneath this they sometimes carry a wicker basket full of hot coals, called the 'winter wife'.

Shalimar Bagh garden- built for Nur Jahan by Jehangir

We were staying at Asif Guest House- the number one rated guest house in Srinagar. Faisal was very, very proud of this and took care to mention his number one rating constantly. On our first night we sat down to an amazing dinner- fresh cheese stewed in tomatoes, some kind of out-of-this-world amazing vegetable stew, thick dal, and Kawha tea or ‘Kashmiri tea’- of course, we had to listen to Faisal talk about himself the entire time.  By the end of the first night I was dying for a break from the endless videos of him doing mundane things with people who stayed at the guesthouse.

Looking forward to a break, we planned a hiking trip to Pahalgam. Pahalgam is a small town about an hour and a half away from Srinagar. It is famous for several things: it used to be the hunting grounds for the Mughal Emperors and many Maharajahs, it has many extremely beautiful valleys full of rivers and strangely-shaped boulders, and it is noted for its natural beauty. A hiking trip there seemed like the perfect way to spend the day.

What we didn’t know about Pahalgam is that it is also famous (or infamous) for its pony treks.

Buying bread before our hike. This was a little bread stall in the middle of nowhere. We bought amazing Kashmiri bread for 2 rupees!

The moment we stepped out of the car, it was complete mayhem. Touts swarmed us from all sides yelling at us to take a ride up to Kashmir Valley on their horse. None of us wanted to support this industry, so we marched past them and decided to try and hike up on our own.

After many wrong turns we decided that maybe getting a guide would be a good idea. One of the touts in particular was very persistent in following us, shrieking bad directions as we made our way up the hill.

Eventually we ran in to a man sitting on the hill with his horse. He spoke no English, and was happy to take us for 450 rupees- half the price the touts were offering us, and the price that we had been told was more the going rate. I like him immediately- he was quiet and efficient, had a very good relationship with his horse, and his horse will always have a special place in my heart for his ingenious use of hot gas to get up the hill faster.

Our guide was surprised when I refused to get on his horse (Raj), and when all of us refused to laden Raj with our bags. I think this endeared us to him a little. He showed us the fake hunting grounds that touts claim to be the real one (the real one is much further off- touts don’t like to go that far), he took us to a tourist-filled clearing and told us that, after a quick chai break, he would show us three sights that many tourists who come here don’t see.

The clearing was an interesting sight to see. Indian tourists wandered around, shopping for tacky souvenirs that hawkers had brought up the mountain. Other hawkers offered the chance to take romantic photos with your partner while wearing traditional costumes. Men made strong, manly poses to the camera while they directed their wives to look on adoringly. We admired the proceedings from a distance, and then continued on. Our guide told us that most people don’t go past the clearing.

Joe and Shirish showing off their strong and manly poses in the clearing

There were quite a few Indian tourists around, and all of them were riding horses.  With the exception of the guides, we were the only ones who were using our own two feet. I felt for the horses- many of these tourists were not small.

We continued on. Shirish and I lagged behind, talking about politics- Indian politics never cease to fascinate me. Joe was far ahead, guided by the horse, who obviously knew exactly where we were going. After a reasonably short and extremely pleasant hike, we reached the hunting grounds. This area, once full of tigers (though I hear they are much more common now in the winter!), is now semi-cultivated by nomads as a place for their buffalo to feed.

The nomad huts were beautiful- they looked very sturdy, surprisingly so for huts made of sand and cow poo. I was dying to see the inside of one, and was pleasantly surprised when our guide invited us in.

The old hunting grounds

We were surprised by how warm and comfortable the huts were. There was a small window, and the huts was divided into three reasonably sized rooms- the first one as an entryway, which can be covered in the winter to keep cold air from coming in. The second part was a small, cozy kitchen, dining, and sleeping area. The last room was a large bedroom covered with woven blankets and furs. The woman in the house served us salty tea: water, very creamy milk, and a lot of salt. I think there was also some tea leaves in there somewhere. It tasted a little bit like drinking very watery butter… I’m embarrassed to say that I couldn’t quite finish it. Joe and I drank ours and made polite-sounding noises, while Shirish downed his with delight, then finished mine too.  I guess it is an acquired taste.

From there we had a quick lunch on a hilltop overlooking Kashmir Valley and drank Kashmiri tea (Khawa tea) mixed with honey. We walked down past a waterfall, through the famous rock valley, and then walked through my second favourite part of the hike: a small village tucked into the hill. The villagers were very friendly and looked typically Kashmiri: pale-skinned, rosy-cheeked, with very light coloured eyes. We stocked up on apples for our trip home. Small and sweet, they were by far the best apples I’ve ever had.

The view of Kashmir Valley

This valley is very famous for its rocks

Keen to escape Faisal, we spent the night exploring the old part of Srinagar and estimating the prices of pashminas. I was surprised to find out that most of the scarves and clothes sold in Canada that are claimed to be made of pure cashmere are usually a cashmere-silk blend! Real pashminas actually feel quite different

Old Srinagar

The next day was shopping day. Since the following day was the beginning of Eid Al-Adha, a Muslim festival, most of the shops and stores would be closed. We had to try and get all of our souvenir shopping done that morning. Determined to escape Faisal- he was being a little clingy, trying to get commission on everything we did- we booked a houseboat for our final stay in Srinagar at the recommendation of a friend. So that our day was not an entire waste (shopping took a very long time) we ate a delicious lunch of wraps containing Kashmiri food and then saw the best and last of the famous Mughal gardens: the Nishat garden.

My favourite garden- it had the most beautiful view (see below)

That night Shirish and I wandered down from the guesthouse through the village searching for gifts we could present to Faisal’s family for Eid. The houses in Kashmir are very different- unlike the cloth tents and metal shacks I had become accustomed to in Pune. Here the houses are built for sturdiness and warmth- not having a warm house could mean not surviving the winter. They are made of brick or plaster, some of them are colourfully decorated, and all of them have many windows and large gardens. These houses lit up wonderfully under the moonlight. With the Himalayas in the background and the cobblestone roads I felt as if we were in a painted movie set. 

Our last day in Kashmir we wandered the streets and tried to observe the celebrations as unobtrusively as possible while they took place.  In many gardens we saw sacrificial lambs or goats being hung from trees and cut up while the men (no women!) looked on and celebrated. Many people invited us in to celebrate with their families and drink a cup of chai. We accepted an offer and were presented with a feast of a tea by a lovely Kashmiri family. It was very interesting to hear their points of view on the political situation in Kashmir.

After saying many goodbyes and downing our last cup of salty tea, we headed off to the houseboat we had booked.  I was initially a little nervous about it- Faisal had been glowering at us since we had told him we booked our own houseboat, commenting that he would have found a cheaper one for better and what we had booked would probably not be that great.

The view from our houseboat. That night, the air was filled with fireworks in celebration of Eid.

Our dining/living room on the boat

Shikara boats- the taxi boats you take to get across the lake. I kept calling them 'Shakiras'.

I think it’s safe to say that we were not disappointed, and staying there was definitely a huge highlight of my trip to India so far. The owner was extremely welcoming- going as far as to give us free lunch and dinner, and preparing us special lamb dishes in honour of Eid. I have been keeping to my vegetarian diet in India, but couldn’t resist trying the lamb- Kashmir is famous around India for its delicious lamb dishes. It was very, very good.

The houseboat itself was made of hand carved walnut wood, and decorated from top to bottom with handmade paper-mache blankets, embroidered cloth, and thick carpets. My only complaint is that we weren’t there long enough.  

It's a huge pity that few people ever come up to Kashmir. The people I met there during my stay were incredibly friendly and welcoming. I never experienced the discomfort that I sometimes have traveling in India as a woman. The only people I caught taking pictures of me or staring were, for the most part, tourists from other parts of India.

Kashmir as a province relies heavily on tourism- many of their exported goods are pashminas, hand-painted boxes, and intricately carved walnut wood. Tourism here is hundreds of years old- starting from before the Mughal Emperors would come up here to relax during the summers. The owners of our houseboat have been in the business since the 1800s!

So now that the huge amounts of tourists that used to flood Kashmir have been trickling dry- though in the last few years it has increased a little- the economy (and the people) are suffering. Unfortunately for them, they don’t really see a peaceful solution coming to their political problems any time soon. The people I talked to about Kashmir were quite pleasant... until we started talking about the political situation. There was a lot of anger and resentment built up there.  Above all they want peace and stability.

I hope for them that the situation improves. As our airplane left the terminal I looked back at the view- the beautiful lakes, the mountains, the clean streets, the friendly people- and vowed to myself that I would come back again, as soon as possible, for much longer.  

Next stop: Pinky in the Pink City, with a side journey to the Pushkar Camel Fair.

On 'Indian Time'

We volunteers like to joke with each other a lot about what time a meeting will start, or we will get home, or something important will get done. There's normal time- the time that we have said that a meeting needs to start, or a project has to be finished by. And then there's India time.

India runs on a very different time from what I am used to- the 'when I feel up to it' time. Often I go to a meeting or a class at the time it is supposed to start... and find no one there. Three hours later someone might saunter in and say "Yes, yes. Meeting in 15 minutes!". Of course, by "Meeting in 15 minutes!" they actually mean "3 hours from now... and oh, by the way, it's also changed locations. The meeting is across town and you're going to have a hard time finding a rickshaw."

At first I would get a little irritated. A deadline is a deadline! But people here seem so much more relaxed, so much more happy, running on Indian time. Stress-free for them. Very stressful for me! Now I've learnt to relax (slightly), enjoy a cup of chai, and work on my next project.

Obviously, in order to relax properly, I had to go to Goa

The only thing that does run on time here are the monsoons. 


I came to India in the middle of monsoon season, expecting to get showered with rain. Instead it's been extremely pleasant... until now.  The monsoon clouds are slowly retreating, leaving flooded streets and rivers of water behind. Every night, like clockwork, they start at 6:00pm. Once it came a little early and I was caught outside unaware- in less than a second I was completely drenched. You couldn't even breathe, there was so much water in the air!

Diwali Lamps on sale! You can find them everywhere... the monsoon rains don't seem to deter anyone from celebrating

When I talk to people back home, I'm invariably always asked what I do at Deep Griha.

 The simplest answer is "I have no idea!". Indian Time also means that every day is different at Deep Griha- there is no concrete schedule that anyone sticks to. One day I might be helping to run HIV bootcamps at various drug rehab centres, women's empowerment programs, or schools. The next day I could be in rural India teaching drama, or visiting HIV positive clients with DISHA ladies, or in the office filling out grant application forms.

A few things are certain in my schedule: I always spend at least two days (now usually my entire week) at Deep Griha's school, the City of Knowledge. I initially was supposed to be the drama teacher at City of Knowledge but instead I appointed myself to help out two of the children who need a lot of individual attention.

The older kids at City of Knowledge starting off the day with the National Anthem

One of the girls, N., has been diagnosed with ADHD. But I’m convinced that the problem is less nature and more nurture. She has a lot of difficulty paying attention is class- I suspect she might be dyslexic or autistic- and consequently spends a lot of her time misbehaving. As soon as she gets positive individual attention, she has no problem in settling down and can focus for hours quite happily. Unfortunately, many of the children and teachers are afraid of her. Some of them have told me in private that they believe she is possessed by the devil, and should be exorcised. A few times she has come in to school extremely ill because ‘doctors’ have made her drink chicken’s blood or dance under the full moon.

The other boy, A., has movement difficulties. His feet are deformed, he has a lot of problems with his eyesight, and his back is hunched. He can’t stand straight, and walking is a huge struggle for him. He has problems going to the bathroom so the children avoid being near him because he smells of pee. He has little hand dexterity so no one has given him books or pencils. A lot of the time when I get to the school I find that he has spent the entire day starting at the wall, alone, with little to do. He is 12 years old, but in First Grade. I think a lot of people associate his physical disabilities with some sort of mental problem, but he's a very bright child.

My goal is to increase the level of positive interaction between the teachers and the two children. The teachers are completely overwhelmed trying to help two children who need constant one-on-one help: they tell me they don't get trained to deal with children who have disabilities at all. 

My second goal is to help create a program for N. and A. so that they can learn in their classes. The problem is that whatever I do needs to be sustainable- working directly with the children is tricky because I don’t want them to be attached. Instead of traveling, I’m going to spend the rest of my time in India making sure that what I do will be lasting so that the teachers will be prepared for the future.

Whenever I go to the City of Knowledge I always have two options ahead of me at the end of the day: take the long, hot, crowded bus ride back to Pune, or stay at the City of Child with some of Deep Griha's sponsored children.

The City of Child is close to the school. You hitch a very bouncy ride back with the Deep Griha children who are getting driven back to City of Child. On the ride there is hardly any signs of human life- an occasional brick factory (always accompanied with the heart-wrenching sight of children playing with the brick dirt), or a sugar cane factory. There are just rows and rows of rice paddies and sugar canes.

We squeeze a lot of people in one tiny bus!

Eventually, after a particularly bumpy part, you reach the City of Child. Enshrined in trees, and constantly filled with the laughter of children, it's a small paradise on earth.

It also has really, really good food. City of Child grows most of the food that gets eaten- the rest is sold, to help the program be more sustainable.

Fields of sugar canes: you can see the factor in the background which makes white sugar for Western countries

Since I'm not planning on doing a huge amount of travelling, I've recently entrusted one of my close local friends, Shirish, with being in charge of my 'India experience'.


True to his word, he has taken me to many local restaurants, street vendors, and local spots- places that I would never, ever go to otherwise. 


He recently took me to a local hospital, and I have vowed to never, ever get sick in India again (more on being sick later). Cats wandered freely around the rooms, and I arrived when 'live surgical demonstrations' were being preformed. We passed by several wards- each one was packed with well over two hundred beds placed inches apart, with at least four wards on each floor.  The surgery room that we saw was separated from the hall- and many people dozing on the ground- by a curtain.  Shirish told me later that it was a government-run hospital. It was nighttime when we went, and most of the hospital was badly-lit or dark (but surgeries were still ongoing... I gather that power cuts are frequent, and sometimes doctors perform surgery with flashlights and lamps!).  I saw very few nurses and doctors while we were there- I can't imagine how they manage to see all of the patients. 


Shirish has also been very insistent that I see places outside of Pune. A few weekends ago we went up to Panchgani, a tiny paradise nestled at the top of one of Maharashtra's many hills. Getting there was a challenge for me (involving going to the wrong public bus station and wander around, lost, for hours), but it was well worth it:

The tablelands in Panchgani- my new favourite picture!

The view was worth the sweaty hike! My hotel room view was very similar

Tablelands at Panchgani

Monkeys!

The next stop on the 'India Experience' is a very quick trip to Kashmir and the 'Golden Triangle': Jaipur, Agra, and Delhi. I'm off on Thursday night... and my next blog post will update you on Goa, Kashmir, Jaipur, Agra, and Delhi! 

Happy Diwali!

Wishing all of you a happy Diwali from India!

The skies and streets are filled with fireworks. Houses are decorated with seizure-inducing lights and the streets are lined with candles.

Sorry it's been a while since my last update. I have a few blog posts written, but am having issues getting my pictures to work. I've figured out the problems, and hopefully I can fix them once I get back from Goa and before I head off to Kashmir!

Light Up Pune

The Kindness of Strangers

In India, I am often reminded of how good people are.

Every day, I need to rely on the kindness of strangers to help me out.

Tuesday and Thursday are City of Knowledge days. City of Knowledge is the school run by Deep Griha for children living in rural areas who otherwise would not get an education.  I was supposed to be teaching drama classes there, but more often than not I end up being a substitute teacher for any of the classes, or an aide to the special needs children in the school. Teachers in India are not trained to deal with children who are 'different', so these kids are very often ignored and left to their own devices for the entire school day. The teachers at Deep Griha's school are very eager to learn a different way of teaching- but with my half a degree in psychology, I feel barely competent enough to teach a third grade class about science, let alone develop a program for children with disabilities! But I am the only contact they have to the huge pool of knowledge that exists about helping children who are physically disabled or have ADHD or Autism. So, with the help of Google and my Developmental Psychology class, as well as the patience and understanding of the teachers who are only a little older than me, I am slowly trying to help as best I can.

My monkeys

 Anyways, back to the original topic.

Every day in India, I am thankful for the kindness of strangers.

Teaching at City of Knowledge is half the challenge- it's getting there which can be the tricky part.

Getting there involves running after and jumping on a local bus (sometimes coming to a complete stop is too hard for the bus drivers). As you are trying to get on, you also have to push through the lines of people trying to board the bus at the same time as you.

Since I can't quite bring myself to push over the old lady that inevitably is always in front of me, I am usually the last person to board the bus. At this point in the morning, I have been awake for less than 30 minutes. I imagine that to many people, it looks like I've wandered in to this death trap by mistake- I'm usually staggering under the weight of a few bags and trying to eat breakfast at the same time, while using my newly mastered technique of keeping my sleepy eyes closed for as long as possible without getting killed. The kindly conductors usually take pity on me at this point- they offer me the seat at the very front of the bus, next to the drivers.

As much as I appreciate that they are trying to be kind, getting this special privilege makes me very uncomfortable. Fortunately for me Ashlesha, the school's principal, has no qualms in taking this seat, allowing me to go and sit with the locals in the back.

Sitting in the back of the bus feels like sitting on a roller coaster. Every few feet the back goes up with a bang, and the last five rows of people get launched up in to the air.  I always get entertainment out of seeing people wake up midair looking startled, and then promptly go back to sleep within seconds of them sitting normally again.

I love sitting at the back of the bus not only because it feels like a roller coaster, but also because it's a great chance to meet the locals. On the way to the village I meet lots of industrial workers and teachers- all of them delighted to expand my Marathi vocabulary. On the way back the bus is full of people coming back from farms, and I almost always get offered food ("Try it! I picked it minutes before getting on the bus."). It's rude for me to say no (and I probably wouldn't say no anyways!), so now I am well acquainted with many of the local foods. Fresh yogurt, custard apples, pomegranates, bananas, and cane sugar. Spiced potatoes, masala corn with lime, chai, and pickled mangoes. Some of it requires a bit of courage on my part to eat, and all of it is good.

So much good food!!

As much as I love my work here, whenever someone asks me what my favourite part about India is I always reply without hesitation "meeting the locals!". There's such a feeling of community here, and I've never met a friendlier group of people. People who I barely exchange two words have no problem with inviting me in to their houses and their lives.

We recently went to a museum. The owner of the museum, determined that we should have a fantastic experience, adopted us as his family. He showed us around and then, at the end, sang us a traditional song.

All of us international volunteers recently planned a trip to the water park. After a long, but fun, day we sat in the parking lot waiting for our driver to arrive.  It was getting dark, we had no idea where we were, and we weren't in a particularly nice area.  A restaurant owner came out and invited us on to his patio. He chatted to us and gave us chai and fruit while we waited.

In the really, really safe-looking ferry on our way back from "Asia's largest water park"

I know that it's been a long time since I've updated, and the blame for this can be put on many of the local volunteers. They are determined to show us around, invite us in to our homes, and help us experience every part of India. They've taken us to every touristy place in Pune, and made sure that we experienced the best that Indian street food had to offer: Vada Pav (my favourite thing by far- a deep fried, spiced potato in a fresh bun), Samosas, Pav Bhaji, and Paan (something which I can happily spend the rest of my life never having again, but was apparently 'essential for the true India experience').

For those of you who don't know what Paan is, it's a betel leaf which cardamom, saffron, different flowers, coconut, etc, according the user's personal preference. You are supposed to chew it, enjoying the flavours, and then spit out the red juice. Paan is very popular here- there's red stains all over the ground from the tobacco-stained spit.

Every time a festival happens, the local volunteers take us to the celebrations.

Navratri- doing some folk dancing (Dandiya)

Learning the dance moves- as you can see, we were really good at it

Festivals and celebrations happen here extremely frequently- as soon as the 10-day Ganesh festival has wrapped up, we had a rather festival-free week (only one festival day!) before the next major festival: Navratri, the festival worshiping dance and Shakti. For nine nights everyone gathers and dances late in to the night. The tenth day is a day of family and worship- gifts are exchanged. This festival also happens to be during the time the Ram defeated Ravana, as narrated by the Hindu scripture, Ramayana. I think it also celebrates many other things, but this was as many as I could remember!

Our friends Prateek and Gavrav took us to a Dandiya celebration during Navratri. Everyone dresses up in their best and meets to dance together. Friends of theirs taught us some of the dance steps used, and we all danced in a circle together until we were completely soaked with sweat. Everyone kept joining our circle, and at one point our circle took up nearly the entire dance floor!

It was an amazing experience- one that I don't think I would have been able to have had I just been traveling around India. The costumes that people wore were absolutely mind-blowing... apparently this 9-night celebration causes the highest fabric sales in India.  In my best clothes, I felt way under-dressed and not nearly colourful enough. The costumes of the men and women were brightly coloured, covered in embroidery, and had mirrors, sequins, jewels, beads, shells, and other flashy materials sown in.

There are really no words to describe the mish-mash of all the things that have happened since I last updated. Instead I will leave you with a few pictures from the last week (stolen from Olivia and Naveed... thanks guys!!), and the promise to update soon sometime next week. A lot is going on at Deep Griha now, and I'd really like to fill you in on everything I do there. I'm off to a hill station for the weekend, hence the quick update now,

Sinhagad Fort- left to right: Gavrav, Sholeh, Prateek, Becky, Naveed, and me!

The view from Sinhagad

The girls (minus Jemma)

No one else could bring themselves to try the fresh curd... it was interesting!

Power outages are pretty normal here- I heard a rumour that there are a lot of strikes going on right now, but they're not being publicized