October 31, Sunday
10 pm
Colleen scurries through the doorway, arms full of our water bottles and worksheets (hopefully enough to keep us occupied) in a hurried scuttle into our quarantine bedroom for probably the rest of the night.
"How many are there?" inquires Summer, huddled behind her computer….
"10 to 15. Im not sure!"
….::: baby crying and malayalam mumbles in background:::…….
At 9:30 pm on a Sunday, our new 'mama roomy' rolls up with the whole gang, probably from the wedding for which she left at at about 10 this morning. Colleen and I normally would have stayed and interacted with our lovely new house guests; however, our energy for sitting and smiling awkwardly (while Malayalam is tossed back and forth around us like a dodge ball game), was runnin on slim pickins considering we had already received 3 other unannounced house guests (one being the principal of RIMS)….no big deal. And we do love company, but by this time I had also already changed into my 'scandalous' basketball shorts, and had no intention of turning back.
This is a TdoubleI moment. This is also a 'babox' moment. ….and I want everyone to know that my typing application just tried to auto-correct my word 'babox' to baboon. While I find this hilarious and am considering informing Colleen that we should say baboon instead, I would like you to know that if I say "baboon," I probably mean "babox" (ah! did it again!)
The noise subsided so Colleen went out to investigate the house occupancy….she comes back in with the I'm-gonna-quote-someone-right-now-face and says, "One woman stay tonight. my auntie. She know Enlglish. I will bring pepsi tomorrow." Splendid!
--------I may or may not need a blood transfusion considering the amount of "debris" on my leg from the mosquito I just assassinated. GUACATELA!!!
Ok, but the irony about baboons here is that I did, in fact, encounter baboon-like creatures on Friday on a field trip to Snake Park with 4th-6th standard. I did not agree to attend this educational excursion until it was confirmed that the 'snakes' were contained. I mean jeez, Snake Park makes it sound like some theme reptile getaway filled with hot rock slides and fizzy venom drinks. i was assured that they were contained and not sipping fizzy venom drinks by the poolside. The name would indicate the presence of only slithering reptiles, yet there were some screeching, awkward-bottomed, baboon-like friends there. In addition to the 20 something species of snakes, there were peacocks and peahens, porcupines, "forest cat", "bobby cat," owls, doves, other birds, and crocodiles. One area mimicked a gladiator arena, where visitors could crowd around and watch a cluster of various snake species massacre one another. Just looking inside the uncovered, occupied coliseum gave me a big VVVDEEEWWWWWAAAAASSHHZZXVVV shiver down my spine. Ugh, I am not into snakes. But I did enjoy looking at the king cobra (which can get up to 15 meters kids!) The rest was an extremely depressing environment; while Im walking beneath a canopy of palms, breathing the fresh green air, I look into a row of 8 x 8 ft bare cement cages, all of which had a corner where a lonely animal or two huddled to sleep, or peered out eagerly at all the curious faces from outside. I felt really bad for them. Who knew that a porcupine could tug at my heart strings, but as a family of three (yes there was a lil baby!) paced back and forth along the bars as each onlooker passed by, I felt an impending urge to use some hidden Magneto power to bend all the cage bars and scream, "be free wild beasts!!" The baboonish monkeys were in a much larger cage, propped on the cage bars, shivering, whimpering and screeching as we watched. No me gusta.
Well I have significantly gotten off track as I originally intended to explain babox. Looks like you'll just have to stay tuned because my cold medicine is putting me into a foggy stupor, and the letters are starting to belly dance before my very eyes.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Political and Digestive Bombs (yeah, I took it there)
October 28, Thursday
7:15 am
I've spent the past 32 hours in a throbbing supine position, shivering with fever beneath a bed sheet while dozing in and out of consciousness. This hibernation period was sprinkled with bursts of wrenching aches, and peppered with random bouts of digestive extremes of which I'll spare the details. I'd awaken from dozing dreams long enough to pull my face from a pool of drool on my pillow, and gingerly roll over to a fetal position beneath the breeze of the fan. I chuckle at my previous assumption from a previous blog: that the cold-like sickness that plagued me last week would disappear and I would magically become immune to India… there I go breaking rule number 1. My wandering thoughts are jolted from me as I thrash upright in reaction to what sounds like several bombs. I look outside my window to see the round-a-bout flooded with people, flags, un-recognizable traffic flow, motorcycles, honking buses, and very unsuccessful khaki-clad policemen attempting to disperse the crowd. Its a dag-gon' jubilee! Everyone is cheering, music is blaring, and caravans of men on motorcycles sport a waving kelly green flag with the Muslim symbol (crescent moon and star) in the upper left corner. I glance around and notice that all shops are closed. Ok, the results of the election must have been announced.
While I'm in my bedroom flicking spiders off my bare shoulder, flinching in bone-deep aches, and watching these political shenanigans outside my window, Colleen is at school getting the low-down from Aaliya. Aaliya explained that "Sometimes if a political party doesn't win, they will set off bombs. I hope that doesn't happen today,"…and then later approached Colleen to say "the UNF party was successful. Sometimes they set off bombs if they win." With all puzzle pieces placed together, one could deduce that the bomb-like sounds outside my window 1. were, in fact, actual bombs, and 2. apparently celebratory "good" bombs. Mmmk time for the mental note of the day: Elections in Kannur = Bombs…..comforting.
This morning, I have emerged from my quarantined space to make some kapi, in hopes that it will melt away the atrocious bags beneath my eyes, along with the co-morbid exhaustion. It hits my stomach with a piercing jab, as the two tiny pieces of bready pizza didn't stay in my stomach for long. While I still feel achy, I'm definitely a lot better than yesterday, and am preparing to go into school to at least start making puppets for the Montessori program. I'd like to give a shout out to Colleen for getting me some Sprite yesterday---it made me feel at home because whenever I had a tummy illness as a kid, Barb Ryan would let me have soda :-). I'd also like to say thanks to Aaliya for calling to see if I was ok, and offering to bring anything I needed. It was so sweet (as we've talked a lot about the many cultural differences between India and America) when she said "Do you want me to bring you some bread? Here when people get sick, we give them bread to eat… I don't know what you people do." Hehe, I simply reply, "thats the same 'round the world, sista!"
7:15 am
I've spent the past 32 hours in a throbbing supine position, shivering with fever beneath a bed sheet while dozing in and out of consciousness. This hibernation period was sprinkled with bursts of wrenching aches, and peppered with random bouts of digestive extremes of which I'll spare the details. I'd awaken from dozing dreams long enough to pull my face from a pool of drool on my pillow, and gingerly roll over to a fetal position beneath the breeze of the fan. I chuckle at my previous assumption from a previous blog: that the cold-like sickness that plagued me last week would disappear and I would magically become immune to India… there I go breaking rule number 1. My wandering thoughts are jolted from me as I thrash upright in reaction to what sounds like several bombs. I look outside my window to see the round-a-bout flooded with people, flags, un-recognizable traffic flow, motorcycles, honking buses, and very unsuccessful khaki-clad policemen attempting to disperse the crowd. Its a dag-gon' jubilee! Everyone is cheering, music is blaring, and caravans of men on motorcycles sport a waving kelly green flag with the Muslim symbol (crescent moon and star) in the upper left corner. I glance around and notice that all shops are closed. Ok, the results of the election must have been announced.
While I'm in my bedroom flicking spiders off my bare shoulder, flinching in bone-deep aches, and watching these political shenanigans outside my window, Colleen is at school getting the low-down from Aaliya. Aaliya explained that "Sometimes if a political party doesn't win, they will set off bombs. I hope that doesn't happen today,"…and then later approached Colleen to say "the UNF party was successful. Sometimes they set off bombs if they win." With all puzzle pieces placed together, one could deduce that the bomb-like sounds outside my window 1. were, in fact, actual bombs, and 2. apparently celebratory "good" bombs. Mmmk time for the mental note of the day: Elections in Kannur = Bombs…..comforting.
This morning, I have emerged from my quarantined space to make some kapi, in hopes that it will melt away the atrocious bags beneath my eyes, along with the co-morbid exhaustion. It hits my stomach with a piercing jab, as the two tiny pieces of bready pizza didn't stay in my stomach for long. While I still feel achy, I'm definitely a lot better than yesterday, and am preparing to go into school to at least start making puppets for the Montessori program. I'd like to give a shout out to Colleen for getting me some Sprite yesterday---it made me feel at home because whenever I had a tummy illness as a kid, Barb Ryan would let me have soda :-). I'd also like to say thanks to Aaliya for calling to see if I was ok, and offering to bring anything I needed. It was so sweet (as we've talked a lot about the many cultural differences between India and America) when she said "Do you want me to bring you some bread? Here when people get sick, we give them bread to eat… I don't know what you people do." Hehe, I simply reply, "thats the same 'round the world, sista!"
Monday, October 25, 2010
T double I
Monday, October 25
10:30 am
Apologies for the large gap between blogs. Colleen and I have been fully immersed into the chaotic lives of teachers abroad. The past week we have felt the most emotionally and physically drained, overwhelmed, ill, sensitive, and… well, bitchy. A culmination of chaos and disorder at school, infinite interpersonal interaction, montessori children ripping buttons off our shirts, constant language barriers, men standing a body length away from us at the beach to stare, spiciest food of my life, and new living situation thrust Colleen and I into a swirling, hostile vortex, leaving us disoriented, unbalanced, and helplessly grasping for familiarity. I believe this past week was our TRUE initiation into India, and here we are walking out into the next week with our chests puffed and heads held high, ready to take on anything. I would consider myself a "ride the wave" or "rolling with the punches" type person; however, never underestimate what new emotions an unfamiliar culture can conjure. We'll just say my 'wing it' trait has increased by ten fold even within this past week. Colleen's and my friendship/roommate-ship/ colleagueship/ and every other 'ship' has been shifted, smacked, and rolled around in the back of some metaphoric cement truck. We have come out this fine Monday as Sumleen, I'd say---a single unit of American chicks trying to make a difference and survive in another hemisphere. Sumleen has invented a new word in our ever-growing, multilingual dictionary:
TII; also written T double I--- an acronym standing for This Is India, derived from the movie Blood Diamond where one says TIA, or This Is Africa. Word is used in any sensory contact with a situation that would occur only in India. Such situations would most likely to bewilder, upset, or terrify one from the West. Word may be used in any context ranging from confusion, fury, or hilarity.
While on the subject of words, Sumleen has vowed (regardless of whether we are speaking English, Spanish, Malayalam, Hindi, etc) to use the Malayalam word "bakshanam" whenever referring to "food", as it translates to English as "meal" or "food" and it is probably the funnest word to say. Try it! Bakshanam, bakshanam, bakshanam, BAK-SHA-NAM!
Now back to these dazzling past seven days…..
After almost a month working at RIMS, Sumleen was supposed to finally receive a time table (you get looked at like a deer in headlights if you say 'schedule') for our classes at school. The past weeks we have simply been assigned random classes and sent to them with 2 minute notice, forced to rack our brains and rummage thru notebooks for lessons and games for any age under 13. This I don't mind because I like to wing it with my lessons anyways; as I think the energy of the kids and classroom will determine what lesson will suit that day. However, I have also been assigned the task of teaching art and volleyball (YAY!), but still have not been informed what age level and the frequency of my classes. Again, this is not a huge deal but it can be a bit stressful when someone runs up to you and says "can you go teach art to 5th and 6th standard right now?" "Sure!"… I am forced to develop a lesson plan and collect my materials in the 30 second walk to the classroom around back. "Ok class, today we are going to illustrate our haikus and they will be put on display on November 14th for all the parents and students"….hey, I only had computer paper and 30 minutes. Or the "can you do English with 2nd standard for the next hour?" ..:::head wobble:::… I speed walk to the classroom (god knows these kids are spastic little buggers) and whip out a dialogue and/or game from my lesson stash. Colleen has been assigned drama with the kids, and she has worked painfully hard in trying to come up with feasible and acceptable (don't forget, conservative Muslim school) songs and plays for the students to perform on November 14. Poor Colleen has been trapped inside a pinball machine, being shot about from teacher to teacher, to ideas encouraged and shot down, plans made and erased, "boys and girls must be separate" "the older girls can't be in the play now" "oh! we would rather you teach them a song rather than a play"…all input threatening to hospitalize poor Colleen with an imminent panic attack. Head-honcho-drama-leen has braved thru this week and was finally able to settle on three performances: a play for the older boys, a song for the younger kids, and song for the older girls. I played the assistant role, helping decide appropriate plays/songs, advising/encouraging, and helping with auditions and rehearsals. We work well together :-) When she starts to panic, I assert a spiraling Colleen ma'am back to feasible reality. When I'm burning up in frustration, Colleen will look at me knowingly and turn me around to see a pudgy-cheeked montessori nugget*--- a remedy that always melts my steaming hot face to a warm smile inside. Kids have that effect on me.
Sumleen had pretty much assumed at this point that we would probably not get a Montessori training teacher to stay at our flat. We were told when we first arrived that we would receive permanent company, none of which ever arrived. We were getting quite comfy with our own spacious rooms, walking around in our underwear, watching LOST in the common room while eating obscene amounts of chocolate (don't judge, we need comfort food), and experimenting with indian ingredients (yielding both failure and success). On Friday, we were informed that one of the montessori teachers, Noor (a hilarious and bubbly 20-year-old doing a two year internship at RIMS to become Montessori certified) and her mother would come to live with us this weekend. Hey, its India, who doesn't love company? Sumleen was more than happy to welcome them to our flat on Saturday (we were told Sunday but they rolled up Saturday instead…T double I) but couldn't resist giggling at the whole situation and the inevitable awkwardness to come.
Cultural Experiment
Exhibit A: Summer and Colleen
Variables-- liberal, fairly naked, American, un-defined religion, speak English, Spanish, bits of Malayalam
Exhibit B: Noor and Mama
Variables-- conservative, burka-wearing, Indian, Muslim, speak limited English (Noor only), speak Malayalam, Kannada, Urdu, Hindi, Arabic, Tamil
Constants: roof, female, arms, legs, speaking in native language in hopes other will magically understand, smiling
Observations:
1. I have never felt so naked in a t-shirt and capris.
2. The Indian conspiracy to fatten up the Americans continues. Hovering loaded spoon situation lives on. Mama makes good food, but I'm not a panda bear….don't they eat their body weight in bamboo?
3. Mama and Sumleen can communicate efficiently enough with hand motions, dictionaries, and smiles. Any 'conversation' is always left with a healthy laugh and understanding of not understanding.
4. Americans' Malayalam improves, Indians' English improves.
4. Noor and Sumleen had a great conversation on Islam and "Sumleenism."** Exhibits display signs of success in cultural exchange.
If you are not grasping the hilarity of my life right now, then …. well…. just grasp it people.
*nugget--a word derived from Charlyn Dahilig referring to a small child and/or human, typically adorable in appearance
**A small note on Sumleenism. I may try and explain this more later but by some crazy world twist, Colleen and I have been put together on this earth and we have found that we believe pretty much the exact same thing. Explaining to people here that we are not Christian, but very familiar with it, alone is complicated enough. Everyone at RIMS has assumed that as Americans, we must be Christian. (Don't forget Rule #1) Anyways, its been difficult to explain a nutshell of our beliefs in the wadded up combo of truth in all religions, presence of good/bad energies, throw in some Eat, Pray, Love philosophy, and law of attraction. However, I think we have gotten the idea across to Asiya, Aaliya, and Noor.
P.S. I forgot to mention that there is no school today because there is another strike. T double I.
10:30 am
Apologies for the large gap between blogs. Colleen and I have been fully immersed into the chaotic lives of teachers abroad. The past week we have felt the most emotionally and physically drained, overwhelmed, ill, sensitive, and… well, bitchy. A culmination of chaos and disorder at school, infinite interpersonal interaction, montessori children ripping buttons off our shirts, constant language barriers, men standing a body length away from us at the beach to stare, spiciest food of my life, and new living situation thrust Colleen and I into a swirling, hostile vortex, leaving us disoriented, unbalanced, and helplessly grasping for familiarity. I believe this past week was our TRUE initiation into India, and here we are walking out into the next week with our chests puffed and heads held high, ready to take on anything. I would consider myself a "ride the wave" or "rolling with the punches" type person; however, never underestimate what new emotions an unfamiliar culture can conjure. We'll just say my 'wing it' trait has increased by ten fold even within this past week. Colleen's and my friendship/roommate-ship/ colleagueship/ and every other 'ship' has been shifted, smacked, and rolled around in the back of some metaphoric cement truck. We have come out this fine Monday as Sumleen, I'd say---a single unit of American chicks trying to make a difference and survive in another hemisphere. Sumleen has invented a new word in our ever-growing, multilingual dictionary:
TII; also written T double I--- an acronym standing for This Is India, derived from the movie Blood Diamond where one says TIA, or This Is Africa. Word is used in any sensory contact with a situation that would occur only in India. Such situations would most likely to bewilder, upset, or terrify one from the West. Word may be used in any context ranging from confusion, fury, or hilarity.
While on the subject of words, Sumleen has vowed (regardless of whether we are speaking English, Spanish, Malayalam, Hindi, etc) to use the Malayalam word "bakshanam" whenever referring to "food", as it translates to English as "meal" or "food" and it is probably the funnest word to say. Try it! Bakshanam, bakshanam, bakshanam, BAK-SHA-NAM!
Now back to these dazzling past seven days…..
After almost a month working at RIMS, Sumleen was supposed to finally receive a time table (you get looked at like a deer in headlights if you say 'schedule') for our classes at school. The past weeks we have simply been assigned random classes and sent to them with 2 minute notice, forced to rack our brains and rummage thru notebooks for lessons and games for any age under 13. This I don't mind because I like to wing it with my lessons anyways; as I think the energy of the kids and classroom will determine what lesson will suit that day. However, I have also been assigned the task of teaching art and volleyball (YAY!), but still have not been informed what age level and the frequency of my classes. Again, this is not a huge deal but it can be a bit stressful when someone runs up to you and says "can you go teach art to 5th and 6th standard right now?" "Sure!"… I am forced to develop a lesson plan and collect my materials in the 30 second walk to the classroom around back. "Ok class, today we are going to illustrate our haikus and they will be put on display on November 14th for all the parents and students"….hey, I only had computer paper and 30 minutes. Or the "can you do English with 2nd standard for the next hour?" ..:::head wobble:::… I speed walk to the classroom (god knows these kids are spastic little buggers) and whip out a dialogue and/or game from my lesson stash. Colleen has been assigned drama with the kids, and she has worked painfully hard in trying to come up with feasible and acceptable (don't forget, conservative Muslim school) songs and plays for the students to perform on November 14. Poor Colleen has been trapped inside a pinball machine, being shot about from teacher to teacher, to ideas encouraged and shot down, plans made and erased, "boys and girls must be separate" "the older girls can't be in the play now" "oh! we would rather you teach them a song rather than a play"…all input threatening to hospitalize poor Colleen with an imminent panic attack. Head-honcho-drama-leen has braved thru this week and was finally able to settle on three performances: a play for the older boys, a song for the younger kids, and song for the older girls. I played the assistant role, helping decide appropriate plays/songs, advising/encouraging, and helping with auditions and rehearsals. We work well together :-) When she starts to panic, I assert a spiraling Colleen ma'am back to feasible reality. When I'm burning up in frustration, Colleen will look at me knowingly and turn me around to see a pudgy-cheeked montessori nugget*--- a remedy that always melts my steaming hot face to a warm smile inside. Kids have that effect on me.
Sumleen had pretty much assumed at this point that we would probably not get a Montessori training teacher to stay at our flat. We were told when we first arrived that we would receive permanent company, none of which ever arrived. We were getting quite comfy with our own spacious rooms, walking around in our underwear, watching LOST in the common room while eating obscene amounts of chocolate (don't judge, we need comfort food), and experimenting with indian ingredients (yielding both failure and success). On Friday, we were informed that one of the montessori teachers, Noor (a hilarious and bubbly 20-year-old doing a two year internship at RIMS to become Montessori certified) and her mother would come to live with us this weekend. Hey, its India, who doesn't love company? Sumleen was more than happy to welcome them to our flat on Saturday (we were told Sunday but they rolled up Saturday instead…T double I) but couldn't resist giggling at the whole situation and the inevitable awkwardness to come.
Cultural Experiment
Exhibit A: Summer and Colleen
Variables-- liberal, fairly naked, American, un-defined religion, speak English, Spanish, bits of Malayalam
Exhibit B: Noor and Mama
Variables-- conservative, burka-wearing, Indian, Muslim, speak limited English (Noor only), speak Malayalam, Kannada, Urdu, Hindi, Arabic, Tamil
Constants: roof, female, arms, legs, speaking in native language in hopes other will magically understand, smiling
Observations:
1. I have never felt so naked in a t-shirt and capris.
2. The Indian conspiracy to fatten up the Americans continues. Hovering loaded spoon situation lives on. Mama makes good food, but I'm not a panda bear….don't they eat their body weight in bamboo?
3. Mama and Sumleen can communicate efficiently enough with hand motions, dictionaries, and smiles. Any 'conversation' is always left with a healthy laugh and understanding of not understanding.
4. Americans' Malayalam improves, Indians' English improves.
4. Noor and Sumleen had a great conversation on Islam and "Sumleenism."** Exhibits display signs of success in cultural exchange.
If you are not grasping the hilarity of my life right now, then …. well…. just grasp it people.
*nugget--a word derived from Charlyn Dahilig referring to a small child and/or human, typically adorable in appearance
**A small note on Sumleenism. I may try and explain this more later but by some crazy world twist, Colleen and I have been put together on this earth and we have found that we believe pretty much the exact same thing. Explaining to people here that we are not Christian, but very familiar with it, alone is complicated enough. Everyone at RIMS has assumed that as Americans, we must be Christian. (Don't forget Rule #1) Anyways, its been difficult to explain a nutshell of our beliefs in the wadded up combo of truth in all religions, presence of good/bad energies, throw in some Eat, Pray, Love philosophy, and law of attraction. However, I think we have gotten the idea across to Asiya, Aaliya, and Noor.
P.S. I forgot to mention that there is no school today because there is another strike. T double I.
Flashback: Last days and last thoughts in Calcutta
Wednesday October 20
I finished another book, "The three mistakes of my life" by Chetan Bhagat. It was a quick and entertaining read about 3 guys who started up a cricket shop. The author is apparently the largest selling English writing author in India. I was looking for another book yesterday and opened up 80 things you need to know about India and out fell a sheet of paper with a journal entry on it! I had actually been looking for this entry when I first arrived to Kannur. I wrote it on one of my last days in Kolkata and had intended to post it in my blog as a transitional entry. I have written several of my blogs first on paper, as sometimes I think it enhances the authenticity of documenting a travel experience. Anyways, I probably shouldn't do that as much since I clearly cant keep track of the paper; but here it is, a journal entry written from inside my room in Kolkata in the last days of September……
I doze off in the dimly lit salmon-tinted room. My eyelids flutter as thunder rolls across the sky, and raindrops patter faster on the streets outside. The midday heat steams away in an evening sigh. A cool breeze pours thru the windows into the swirl of the overhead fan, brushing wisps of damp hair across my forehead. My book, The Namesake, rises and falls on my chest, begging to be picked up again…but my heavy eyelids resist. I will simply just be right now, listening to the soothing splashes in the street, and tiny drum rolls of the Calcutta rainfall. Good thing I hung up my laundry inside today. The clouds roll in to hurry the dusk, leaving only the yellow of the street lamps and glowing barred windows to light up the dirt road winding between homes.
Such a great way to end an exhausting week. While exhausting, this week has been so rewarding, nerve-racking, and spontaneous. It started on Monday with me picking my nails and fidgeting around before giving my first lesson to sixty little bright eyed girls dressed in immaculate blue skirts and pressed white shirts. It ended teaching a different bunch of girls, same smiles and styles, but with a more confident, less fidgety version of myself. I feel inspired, ready to embark upon the next chapter of my life here in India. Its weird looking back on where I was a year ago and where I am today. I was an emotional hot mess--feeling trapped in the possibility that I just might get stuck in the American bubble, about to graduate, desperate for a ticket to anywhere but America, feeling alone. Here I am in India, across the world, about to teach English to little kids. This is what I've wanted, and this is what I will do. I feel so free now, like I can do anything. I guess my point is that I finally feel alive again, like I've woken up and leaped out of the ditch in which I trudged in for the better part of this year. I started walking down the road again---riding the wave---head held high. Let's see where it takes me.
I finished another book, "The three mistakes of my life" by Chetan Bhagat. It was a quick and entertaining read about 3 guys who started up a cricket shop. The author is apparently the largest selling English writing author in India. I was looking for another book yesterday and opened up 80 things you need to know about India and out fell a sheet of paper with a journal entry on it! I had actually been looking for this entry when I first arrived to Kannur. I wrote it on one of my last days in Kolkata and had intended to post it in my blog as a transitional entry. I have written several of my blogs first on paper, as sometimes I think it enhances the authenticity of documenting a travel experience. Anyways, I probably shouldn't do that as much since I clearly cant keep track of the paper; but here it is, a journal entry written from inside my room in Kolkata in the last days of September……
I doze off in the dimly lit salmon-tinted room. My eyelids flutter as thunder rolls across the sky, and raindrops patter faster on the streets outside. The midday heat steams away in an evening sigh. A cool breeze pours thru the windows into the swirl of the overhead fan, brushing wisps of damp hair across my forehead. My book, The Namesake, rises and falls on my chest, begging to be picked up again…but my heavy eyelids resist. I will simply just be right now, listening to the soothing splashes in the street, and tiny drum rolls of the Calcutta rainfall. Good thing I hung up my laundry inside today. The clouds roll in to hurry the dusk, leaving only the yellow of the street lamps and glowing barred windows to light up the dirt road winding between homes.
Such a great way to end an exhausting week. While exhausting, this week has been so rewarding, nerve-racking, and spontaneous. It started on Monday with me picking my nails and fidgeting around before giving my first lesson to sixty little bright eyed girls dressed in immaculate blue skirts and pressed white shirts. It ended teaching a different bunch of girls, same smiles and styles, but with a more confident, less fidgety version of myself. I feel inspired, ready to embark upon the next chapter of my life here in India. Its weird looking back on where I was a year ago and where I am today. I was an emotional hot mess--feeling trapped in the possibility that I just might get stuck in the American bubble, about to graduate, desperate for a ticket to anywhere but America, feeling alone. Here I am in India, across the world, about to teach English to little kids. This is what I've wanted, and this is what I will do. I feel so free now, like I can do anything. I guess my point is that I finally feel alive again, like I've woken up and leaped out of the ditch in which I trudged in for the better part of this year. I started walking down the road again---riding the wave---head held high. Let's see where it takes me.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Rule #1
Tuesday October 19
6:30 am
Its weird because I have not yet had nothing to say about India, but at this moment I'm at a loss for words. It may be because it is 6:30 in the morning and I'm still waiting for my coffee to cool, or it may be residual medicine effects as I have a gross cold…who knows. Let the ramble begin.
We went to our first Indian wedding on Friday and Saturday. This was a Muslim wedding, the reception is held the night before the ceremony. This is called the "mahendi" which is when the bride and all the women get henna (they call it mahendi in arabic) and everyone dances and eats. Colleen and I got our mahendi on Thursday evening by one of our fellow teachers, Lallu. She did a fantastic job! Check out some of my Facebook pics! I've only seen henna in America as part of the Virginia Beach tourist traps, right next to the hair wraps and psychics….but wow I think Im gonna bring it back and start a trend! I am one of few of my friends who never wishes to get a tattoo---in my generation this seems like the minority. I've always joked that I can just write on myself with a sharpie, and when my fickle mind decides I don't like it five hours later, I can wash it off and draw something else. Well thank you India for introducing me to Mahendi!!! WOooooop! Ok so anyways, the reception. We went in and met Shaihina's (bride) mother, grandmother, sisters, sister cousins, etc…everyone was intrigued about these two amazon white chicks at Shaihina's wedding…who are they?!? We go outside to eat dinner which was the typical dish of biriyani ( rice with meat under it…Im not a big fan as I like colorful meals and not just rice and meat) and we also had a small plate full of some porridge-looking oatmeal with meat in it shenanigan (more carbs and meat)…. I have a slight lapse of judgment and forgot I was in India and looked around for the spoon to eat my interphasial liquid-solid food…bahahah woops… no way sista… you eat that with your fingers just like everything else! This may have been slightly less awkward had I not had the mother and grandmother standing over me watching and waiting with a loaded spoon to ensure the giant white kid gets fed…. you'd think that all Indians have some conspiracy to pull a Hansel and Gretel on all the foreigners because they are ALWAYS trying to give us food…. even if I say "no" or shake my head and block my plate with my arm…PLOP! goes the next serving. Colleen and I have worked out a system… I finish her caffeinated beverages (tea and coffee) and she eats my red meat… we have become masters at stealthily exchanging food items so as to not offend anyone.
On Saturday was the actual wedding. For Muslim weddings, it is common here for the groom's family to go to the mosque with the bride and groom. There they get married and return back to the bride's home where everyone is gathered to celebrate and eat. It is becoming more common now for the bride's family to go to the mosque as well. Colleen and I purchased saris for this occasion and were elated to finally wear the traditional Indian dress. Lallu, again, saved the day and came over in the morning to wrap our saris for us (this is not an easy task people…its one piece of fabric wrapped and pleated and pinned and shimmied around you to make an outfit….you wear a barbie 70's roller rink top too) Anyways, we took tons of pictures and felt super cool wearing our saris. Colleen went for sparkling red, I went with wood/ocean nymph. We both decided that we want to hang our saris in our homes for whenever we return as it is a decorative piece of fabric that could act as a tapestry. We told Aaliya this and she thinks we are weird. She said, "I mean, its not like I could go to America and buy a pair of jeans and then hang it up in my room as a curtain"….good point. We arrived to the wedding, glammed out in sparkling saris and done up hair, and entered into the house. Literally no more than twenty seconds go by and the camera crew comes out of the 'photo room', instructs Shaihina to stand between us and all of a sudden we have bright camera lights and a movie video camera and flashes and cameramen yelling stuff….it felt like I was on the stinkin red carpet! Good lord that was an experience you don't come by often. Everyone looked like royalty in their saris and salwaars. Shaihina was decked out in a purple and gold sari, drenched in gold bangles and chains, with jasmine flowers weaved and dangling all through her hair. I really love all the colors.
Welp, here we all are in colorful, beaded saris (the best dress up gear ever!) and its time to eat. Can you imagine going to a wedding, everyone dressed to the nines, and then sitting down for the dinner and eating rice and meat oatmeal with your hands? Hehe, I can! So real.
I must say that the wedding was not at all what I had expected. It seemed much more mellow with mingling and talking rather than the dancing and chaos you see in the movies. Its funny because Colleen and I have told people on numerous occasions to not assume our lives are like those of celebrities and characters in movies. After we said the wedding was not what we expected, Asiya said, "well, don't expect our lives to be like what you see in movies! haha!" Touche. Asiya has asked about our "huge houses" and what the glamorous life of an American is like. I find it amusing that all of the houses, including Asiya's, that I have visited here, are all larger than the home I grew up in. Kannur is a pretty wealthy area, and the homes are stinkin' huge and gorgeous. Colleen and I are loving that we can set the record straight that not all Americans live like Angelina Jolie, not everywhere is like New York City, and we do not attend balls for fun. Yes, I have been asked if I've been to a ball. I have not for the record. Instead, we explained 'prom' which turned out to be a ridiculous concept as boys and girls mingling like that before marriage would not be accepted here. Let me also state that Kannur is a more conservative city in India. I do not want any of you to take what I see in Kerala or Calcutta or anywhere and apply it to the whole country. I feel like humans have a tendency to generalize and stereotype because everything we learn needs to be placed inside a schema, a labeled file inside our brains. Well STOP IT PEEPS! This is getting the whole world into trouble! Im not gonna fly into a tangent now (see future blogs because it may happen later) but just think twice before you make assumptions about ANYTHING. Remember rule number 1. Never assume anything. I also want everyone to know that I explained to Asiya that not ALL Americans hate Muslims…. as this was her perception. Ok I'm getting very scattered here… time for some more coffee.
6:30 am
Its weird because I have not yet had nothing to say about India, but at this moment I'm at a loss for words. It may be because it is 6:30 in the morning and I'm still waiting for my coffee to cool, or it may be residual medicine effects as I have a gross cold…who knows. Let the ramble begin.
We went to our first Indian wedding on Friday and Saturday. This was a Muslim wedding, the reception is held the night before the ceremony. This is called the "mahendi" which is when the bride and all the women get henna (they call it mahendi in arabic) and everyone dances and eats. Colleen and I got our mahendi on Thursday evening by one of our fellow teachers, Lallu. She did a fantastic job! Check out some of my Facebook pics! I've only seen henna in America as part of the Virginia Beach tourist traps, right next to the hair wraps and psychics….but wow I think Im gonna bring it back and start a trend! I am one of few of my friends who never wishes to get a tattoo---in my generation this seems like the minority. I've always joked that I can just write on myself with a sharpie, and when my fickle mind decides I don't like it five hours later, I can wash it off and draw something else. Well thank you India for introducing me to Mahendi!!! WOooooop! Ok so anyways, the reception. We went in and met Shaihina's (bride) mother, grandmother, sisters, sister cousins, etc…everyone was intrigued about these two amazon white chicks at Shaihina's wedding…who are they?!? We go outside to eat dinner which was the typical dish of biriyani ( rice with meat under it…Im not a big fan as I like colorful meals and not just rice and meat) and we also had a small plate full of some porridge-looking oatmeal with meat in it shenanigan (more carbs and meat)…. I have a slight lapse of judgment and forgot I was in India and looked around for the spoon to eat my interphasial liquid-solid food…bahahah woops… no way sista… you eat that with your fingers just like everything else! This may have been slightly less awkward had I not had the mother and grandmother standing over me watching and waiting with a loaded spoon to ensure the giant white kid gets fed…. you'd think that all Indians have some conspiracy to pull a Hansel and Gretel on all the foreigners because they are ALWAYS trying to give us food…. even if I say "no" or shake my head and block my plate with my arm…PLOP! goes the next serving. Colleen and I have worked out a system… I finish her caffeinated beverages (tea and coffee) and she eats my red meat… we have become masters at stealthily exchanging food items so as to not offend anyone.
On Saturday was the actual wedding. For Muslim weddings, it is common here for the groom's family to go to the mosque with the bride and groom. There they get married and return back to the bride's home where everyone is gathered to celebrate and eat. It is becoming more common now for the bride's family to go to the mosque as well. Colleen and I purchased saris for this occasion and were elated to finally wear the traditional Indian dress. Lallu, again, saved the day and came over in the morning to wrap our saris for us (this is not an easy task people…its one piece of fabric wrapped and pleated and pinned and shimmied around you to make an outfit….you wear a barbie 70's roller rink top too) Anyways, we took tons of pictures and felt super cool wearing our saris. Colleen went for sparkling red, I went with wood/ocean nymph. We both decided that we want to hang our saris in our homes for whenever we return as it is a decorative piece of fabric that could act as a tapestry. We told Aaliya this and she thinks we are weird. She said, "I mean, its not like I could go to America and buy a pair of jeans and then hang it up in my room as a curtain"….good point. We arrived to the wedding, glammed out in sparkling saris and done up hair, and entered into the house. Literally no more than twenty seconds go by and the camera crew comes out of the 'photo room', instructs Shaihina to stand between us and all of a sudden we have bright camera lights and a movie video camera and flashes and cameramen yelling stuff….it felt like I was on the stinkin red carpet! Good lord that was an experience you don't come by often. Everyone looked like royalty in their saris and salwaars. Shaihina was decked out in a purple and gold sari, drenched in gold bangles and chains, with jasmine flowers weaved and dangling all through her hair. I really love all the colors.
Welp, here we all are in colorful, beaded saris (the best dress up gear ever!) and its time to eat. Can you imagine going to a wedding, everyone dressed to the nines, and then sitting down for the dinner and eating rice and meat oatmeal with your hands? Hehe, I can! So real.
I must say that the wedding was not at all what I had expected. It seemed much more mellow with mingling and talking rather than the dancing and chaos you see in the movies. Its funny because Colleen and I have told people on numerous occasions to not assume our lives are like those of celebrities and characters in movies. After we said the wedding was not what we expected, Asiya said, "well, don't expect our lives to be like what you see in movies! haha!" Touche. Asiya has asked about our "huge houses" and what the glamorous life of an American is like. I find it amusing that all of the houses, including Asiya's, that I have visited here, are all larger than the home I grew up in. Kannur is a pretty wealthy area, and the homes are stinkin' huge and gorgeous. Colleen and I are loving that we can set the record straight that not all Americans live like Angelina Jolie, not everywhere is like New York City, and we do not attend balls for fun. Yes, I have been asked if I've been to a ball. I have not for the record. Instead, we explained 'prom' which turned out to be a ridiculous concept as boys and girls mingling like that before marriage would not be accepted here. Let me also state that Kannur is a more conservative city in India. I do not want any of you to take what I see in Kerala or Calcutta or anywhere and apply it to the whole country. I feel like humans have a tendency to generalize and stereotype because everything we learn needs to be placed inside a schema, a labeled file inside our brains. Well STOP IT PEEPS! This is getting the whole world into trouble! Im not gonna fly into a tangent now (see future blogs because it may happen later) but just think twice before you make assumptions about ANYTHING. Remember rule number 1. Never assume anything. I also want everyone to know that I explained to Asiya that not ALL Americans hate Muslims…. as this was her perception. Ok I'm getting very scattered here… time for some more coffee.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Happy Birthday Barb Ryan!!!!
October 14, 2010
Happy Birthday Mom! I love you so much :-)
The fourteenth of October
is a very special day
For it is my mother's
very own birthday
I have watched and learned
She pours passion and soul
Into every ambition,
effort, and goal
An expert of detail
with an intricate mind
Theres no information
Barb Ryan can't find
She taught me patience,
perseverance through tough
This rock solid woman
just never gives up
She showed me outdoors
Our toes in the sand
I learned to explore
Mommy holding my hand
Now I am grown
But even though we're apart
I'm charged with years
of love from her heart
To the woman who
I respect most of all
The encourager, teacher
who picks me up when I fall
She is the one who gave
me confidence and strength
to explore the world
It is her I must thank
I miss you mom,
from your little girl
Here's a happy birthday
from around the world.
Happy Birthday Mom! I love you so much :-)
The fourteenth of October
is a very special day
For it is my mother's
very own birthday
I have watched and learned
She pours passion and soul
Into every ambition,
effort, and goal
An expert of detail
with an intricate mind
Theres no information
Barb Ryan can't find
She taught me patience,
perseverance through tough
This rock solid woman
just never gives up
She showed me outdoors
Our toes in the sand
I learned to explore
Mommy holding my hand
Now I am grown
But even though we're apart
I'm charged with years
of love from her heart
To the woman who
I respect most of all
The encourager, teacher
who picks me up when I fall
She is the one who gave
me confidence and strength
to explore the world
It is her I must thank
I miss you mom,
from your little girl
Here's a happy birthday
from around the world.
Minority Attraction
Tuesday, October 12
By some twist of fate, I have been placed next to a beach here in Kannur. I went there for the first time on Friday for a field trip with the Montessori kids, and then again on Sunday morning for a walk. Its like the beach in Nicaragua! You walk through the lush greenery, coconut trees and all, to the wide beach enclosed with cliffs. If you close your eyes, the humid air is thick on the skin, the sunlight bakes, the waves crash in sets atop the rocks. I wriggle my toes into the steaming sand, churning up the cooler, black layers. On Sunday I was hoping to do this while collecting seashells---cheesy I know but I'm a seashell kid. Anyways, Colleen and I arrived at the beach at 8 am on Sunday morning and it was completely packed…men only. Now you guys may be like jeez suck it up and just go for a run like you planned. The thing is, it is EXHAUSTING being the minority sometimes. This is difficult for me to explain, but bear with me. Here, meaning India, the women stare as much as the men, who stare as much as the children, who stare as much as everyone. I am under a microscope constantly…. they are watching, judging, watching, judging (haha thats actually a shout out for Katherine Courage)…but anyways… people here are very curious and therefore stare with no shame. We went to a restaurant the other day to get the traditional rice with sambar and curry off a banana leaf (major nom noms…mmmm). Its an extremely crowded restaurant as people are waiting at your table for you to get up. So Colleen and I are in there, being watched by at least 30 people at one time. Its already awkward to have people watch you eat, but the real awkwardness here is that everyone eats with their hands. To be honest I feel that I'm as good as any Indian eating utensil-less now, but when I have 30 people watching me its like "crap am I doing this right? am I not being Indian enough? is it just because Im six feet and white?" Its a mental process I go thru a lot and its draining. The staring on the street, or curiosity in the stores, "whats your country?" …."obama!!!!" "whats your name?" "where are you staying?", I don't mind anymore. Its when I go to hang up my laundry by the window and the people from the rooftop below start shouting. "Curtain investment" comes to mind. Anyways, this explains why Colleen and I were very excited to experience a peaceful beach morning and were less than thrilled to find it less than peaceful. There we go making assumptions. Rule #1 Never assume anything. I did go exploring in some tropical brush, and sat atop a large cliff to stare at the ocean and listen to the waves; so that was an escape enough for me….nevermind the 6 dudes staring and pointing…. I just pretended they weren't there.
I have never had a problem as a child finding a doll that looked like me, finding a band aid that matched my skin, or now, make-up that blends with my complexion. All these would be indicators of whether you were a minority. In social work at JMU, we endlessly explored cultural diversity, competence, and sensitivity. I remember a theory--the name escapes me--on minority identity formation. The individual is first oblivious to differences of color, they indirectly experience discrimination (or form of feeling different), then directly experience it, they recoil to the minority group (with anger towards the majority), and eventually mingle with everyone with the understanding of differences. I don't think anyone can truly understand this theory unless he experiences it. For the first time in my life I feel a struggle, frustration, an exhaustion of being a minority. I second guess my actions because I know I am being watched. Others' perceptions of me suddenly matter. Sometimes I don't want to walk on the beach solely because I know it will be so mentally draining simply to exist there. Its almost like I have the weight of representing America on my shoulders, and anything I do can and will be used for or against the perception of my country. What confuses me is the fact that Ive never felt so out of place in Nicaragua. I feel comfortable there…like I belong. I told Colleen that maybe that truly is a place where my heart is, or that I lived there in another life or something. Regardless, in India I have been given a severe shove out of my comfort zone (not good or bad)…and its given me a lot to process.
I am not sure if you guys notice any difference in my writing, as Colleen and I notice that our English is changing. Not good. Like I said in a previous post, there is frequent usage of "ing" verb form, lots of plurals on nouns that don't need it, and saying things like "is it?" or "like that" in random context. This is terrifying. As English teachers we must take a stand!!!! We must keep our American English and not succumb to the overuse of the gerund form. We try to catch ourselves but there may be no turning back. I was given the school newsletter the other day to correct and a common sentence structure would go like this, "Responsibility, respect, fairness, caring , trustworthiness, and citizenship are lifetime values which live taught through activities and there are the principles of good sportsmanship." This is the English spoken here, and why Colleen and I often have a hard time communicating and understanding what the heck is going on. Another thing we've noticed is the mix up between "w" and "v"…. we are starting a revolution with the youngsters during tutoring and having them chant "very well" correctly. Everyone pronounces it "wery ell." This revolution will work…start with the young ones and work your way up. :-) …."you vant wegetables?"
By some twist of fate, I have been placed next to a beach here in Kannur. I went there for the first time on Friday for a field trip with the Montessori kids, and then again on Sunday morning for a walk. Its like the beach in Nicaragua! You walk through the lush greenery, coconut trees and all, to the wide beach enclosed with cliffs. If you close your eyes, the humid air is thick on the skin, the sunlight bakes, the waves crash in sets atop the rocks. I wriggle my toes into the steaming sand, churning up the cooler, black layers. On Sunday I was hoping to do this while collecting seashells---cheesy I know but I'm a seashell kid. Anyways, Colleen and I arrived at the beach at 8 am on Sunday morning and it was completely packed…men only. Now you guys may be like jeez suck it up and just go for a run like you planned. The thing is, it is EXHAUSTING being the minority sometimes. This is difficult for me to explain, but bear with me. Here, meaning India, the women stare as much as the men, who stare as much as the children, who stare as much as everyone. I am under a microscope constantly…. they are watching, judging, watching, judging (haha thats actually a shout out for Katherine Courage)…but anyways… people here are very curious and therefore stare with no shame. We went to a restaurant the other day to get the traditional rice with sambar and curry off a banana leaf (major nom noms…mmmm). Its an extremely crowded restaurant as people are waiting at your table for you to get up. So Colleen and I are in there, being watched by at least 30 people at one time. Its already awkward to have people watch you eat, but the real awkwardness here is that everyone eats with their hands. To be honest I feel that I'm as good as any Indian eating utensil-less now, but when I have 30 people watching me its like "crap am I doing this right? am I not being Indian enough? is it just because Im six feet and white?" Its a mental process I go thru a lot and its draining. The staring on the street, or curiosity in the stores, "whats your country?" …."obama!!!!" "whats your name?" "where are you staying?", I don't mind anymore. Its when I go to hang up my laundry by the window and the people from the rooftop below start shouting. "Curtain investment" comes to mind. Anyways, this explains why Colleen and I were very excited to experience a peaceful beach morning and were less than thrilled to find it less than peaceful. There we go making assumptions. Rule #1 Never assume anything. I did go exploring in some tropical brush, and sat atop a large cliff to stare at the ocean and listen to the waves; so that was an escape enough for me….nevermind the 6 dudes staring and pointing…. I just pretended they weren't there.
I have never had a problem as a child finding a doll that looked like me, finding a band aid that matched my skin, or now, make-up that blends with my complexion. All these would be indicators of whether you were a minority. In social work at JMU, we endlessly explored cultural diversity, competence, and sensitivity. I remember a theory--the name escapes me--on minority identity formation. The individual is first oblivious to differences of color, they indirectly experience discrimination (or form of feeling different), then directly experience it, they recoil to the minority group (with anger towards the majority), and eventually mingle with everyone with the understanding of differences. I don't think anyone can truly understand this theory unless he experiences it. For the first time in my life I feel a struggle, frustration, an exhaustion of being a minority. I second guess my actions because I know I am being watched. Others' perceptions of me suddenly matter. Sometimes I don't want to walk on the beach solely because I know it will be so mentally draining simply to exist there. Its almost like I have the weight of representing America on my shoulders, and anything I do can and will be used for or against the perception of my country. What confuses me is the fact that Ive never felt so out of place in Nicaragua. I feel comfortable there…like I belong. I told Colleen that maybe that truly is a place where my heart is, or that I lived there in another life or something. Regardless, in India I have been given a severe shove out of my comfort zone (not good or bad)…and its given me a lot to process.
I am not sure if you guys notice any difference in my writing, as Colleen and I notice that our English is changing. Not good. Like I said in a previous post, there is frequent usage of "ing" verb form, lots of plurals on nouns that don't need it, and saying things like "is it?" or "like that" in random context. This is terrifying. As English teachers we must take a stand!!!! We must keep our American English and not succumb to the overuse of the gerund form. We try to catch ourselves but there may be no turning back. I was given the school newsletter the other day to correct and a common sentence structure would go like this, "Responsibility, respect, fairness, caring , trustworthiness, and citizenship are lifetime values which live taught through activities and there are the principles of good sportsmanship." This is the English spoken here, and why Colleen and I often have a hard time communicating and understanding what the heck is going on. Another thing we've noticed is the mix up between "w" and "v"…. we are starting a revolution with the youngsters during tutoring and having them chant "very well" correctly. Everyone pronounces it "wery ell." This revolution will work…start with the young ones and work your way up. :-) …."you vant wegetables?"
Monday, October 11, 2010
"What scare of you?"
Monday, October 11
6:30 am
It will be common that I go a whole week without blogging now. Between classes, lesson planning, learning Malayalam, tutoring, company, and playtime, Colleen and I are normally so pooped that we eat some dinner and pass out with Malayalam characters swirling about in our heads. Colleen helped some dude with a film project on Indian Americans when she was in college, and researched how many of them celebrated Indian culture, and how they felt after immigrating America. One common thread among them was that they all felt like there was too much space in America, that it was lonely and very open. I can completely grasp how an Indian immigrant would feel that way in America. Here, homes normally have several generations and branches of families living there. A fellow teacher, Asiya, lives with her husband, his brothers and wives, all their children, and the parent in-laws. People are constantly in everyones business, coming over to say hello, tea here, coffee there, personal questions asked non-stop. (My personal favorite from 11 year-old Malu, "how many rupees you get for one month at RIMS?") Colleen and I have a posse that is typically coloring, singing, and dancing at our flat. They pamper us with cards saying "Im proud of you" and "Colleen and Summer mam" colored about the pages. We originally were tutoring Aysha last week, and now Malu and Thamana want to be tutored too. I feel like we'll have an overhead projector in our flat by the time we leave! At RIMS, Colleen and I will teach a few classes a day, and then go to a montessori class to sing songs, tell stories, and interact with the children. I taught them "Singing in the rain" (a ridiculous version that I remember from my third grade teacher. Ill have to tell her it came in handy) and "Little Goldie Goldfish," a song my mother and aunts sang together as children. Between classes I am teaching the teachers Spanish (baha oh yeahhhh!) and trying to learn Malayalam…oh and lesson planning. There is one computer with internet for the teachers at the school (administration has some, but we cant use those), so access is limited. (I ordered a broadband internet USB thing and will have it within the next week….so Ill be online more frequently and will be able to Skype!!!) Once Colleen and I get home, within minutes theres a doorbell ring and all the flat kids are skipping about asking for us to come out and play or to come in and color with us. They will leave at about 8 pm, we eat dinner and pass out. PHEW! It is a lot of fun though because the little girls always love to sing and dance, so its not uncommon for us to whip out some Lady Gaga, Spice Girls, N'sync, and lets not forget… TECHNO!!!
Power outages at school are common. I also discovered last week that if I press PRINT on one computer, and someone else is already printing something, then the printer will completely ditch that printing job and begin to print my papers. I was unaware that this happens so one teachers double sided worksheets ended up with a math test page on the backs because, silly me, I didn't know the printer was so fickle with print jobs. Its like the teachers at the school. Whenever you are talking to someone, you will be interrupted or distracted by someone else; thus, providing constant chaos and never really finishing conversations. I'm totally fine with this except I want to understand how the heck this trait rubbed off to the computers and printer…."computers are smarter than countries!!!!!" i shouted at colleen on the walk home that day. Oy veh.
I could eat some of my students with a spoon. Ah they are so cute! They are so quiet when I try to get them to speak English in class!! These kids can be loud, I've heard them screaming and yelling in my class, attempting everything in the book to get them to settle down. But, once we start doing a dialogue on "What scares you?" they recoil and whisper "sppspsssspsspsssssssppp" …."Class, could you hear Amin?" "Nooooooooooo." "Amin, could you please speak up?" "spspspspppsssssss" Ten minutes ago this kid was running all over the place screaming. I know you have it in you kids, C'MON! When I ask for a volunteer, the hands shoot up and I hear a roaring clash of voices "Summer maam! MAAAAM! MAAM! MAAM! MAAAAAAAM!!!!!!!" Colleen and I have resorted to the numbered sheets of paper system. Every kid gets a number and we call out a number 1-23, and that student is the 'volunteer'. This works sometimes except that a lot of the kids are screaming and running up to me in class "ma'am my number is 13" "summer ma'am!!! 22! Im 22!" They may also write the number on the back of the sheet of paper i gave them and sprint to the front of the class screaming "14! Im 14!" No your not because I didn't write in a purple marker on the back of a chit of paper that says 8. Anyways, I clearly have a lot to learn about class control, and hopefully the novelty of "foreign ma'am" will wear off eventually and they'll settle down. Its so worth it though when Im outside of class and someone will walk up and say "Summer ma'am, what scares you?" This is quite a feat as most of them will say "what scare of you?" No matter how many times I remodel and write this on the board, they still will say it like that. So when Sara walks up with her toothless smile and says it correctly, I get very excited that I did something right.
Between classes I'll have little girls ask to touch my hair, poke my face, squeeze my cheeks, etc. One of my favorites, Fathima Hanan, always had a ginormous, toothy, smile, with magnified brown eyes twinkling behind her glasses. "Good morning Summer ma'am!" she'll always say. After she poked my face and touched my hair one day, she just scampered off giggling. I have funny hair I suppose. Another girl in my fifth standard, Ridha, brought Colleen and I chocolate one day. Talk about becoming a favorite!!! Haha, I love this girl!! Actually at the end of one of my classes with her, everyone is packing up and Ridha asks, "would ma'am teach us some Spanish?" Oh my gosh I think I melted into the floor, I have and Indian child asking me to teach her Spanish. Its agreed that the last few minutes of class I'll give the girls a tiny Spanish lesson :-) There are only 4 girls in the class so it is absolutely wonderful! Last week we did haikus and proverbs. The girls were able to get the concept of syllables and write their own haikus, and we went over proverbs like "don't cry over spilt milk" and "the grass is always greener…" and their homework is to write a few sentences about a proverb they like and why. Their level of English is clearly higher, as they can communicate easily. The main issue is pronunciation and grammar. "I have a nice two pets" was a sentence in my 5th standard last week.
I have to mention something a student said in Colleen's third standard last week. First, let me explain that whenever Colleen and I mention that we are from USA, the majority of people will say "Obama!!!" Everyone knows about Obama. So, last week in Colleen's class, she explained to the kids that she was from America. She asked, "does anyone know who the president of the United States of America is?" ….ya know, expecting to get a class response of "OBAMA!!" BAHHAHAHA no. One kid shouts, "BUSH! BUSH KILL IRAQ!" Hahahaaha, talk about an awkward collar tugger there…."hmmmmmmk , yes. Bush was the president….does anyone know the president now??" Hehe.
This week the students all have exams, so hopefully Colleen and Summer ma'am will have some more time to figure out some lesson plans and class control techniques. I have plenty more to catch up on, but I must get ready for class now! Oh, and Colleen literally just smashed a (at least two inches long) cockroach with her sneaker and showed it to me. Hmm, nifty.
Pinne kanam.
6:30 am
It will be common that I go a whole week without blogging now. Between classes, lesson planning, learning Malayalam, tutoring, company, and playtime, Colleen and I are normally so pooped that we eat some dinner and pass out with Malayalam characters swirling about in our heads. Colleen helped some dude with a film project on Indian Americans when she was in college, and researched how many of them celebrated Indian culture, and how they felt after immigrating America. One common thread among them was that they all felt like there was too much space in America, that it was lonely and very open. I can completely grasp how an Indian immigrant would feel that way in America. Here, homes normally have several generations and branches of families living there. A fellow teacher, Asiya, lives with her husband, his brothers and wives, all their children, and the parent in-laws. People are constantly in everyones business, coming over to say hello, tea here, coffee there, personal questions asked non-stop. (My personal favorite from 11 year-old Malu, "how many rupees you get for one month at RIMS?") Colleen and I have a posse that is typically coloring, singing, and dancing at our flat. They pamper us with cards saying "Im proud of you" and "Colleen and Summer mam" colored about the pages. We originally were tutoring Aysha last week, and now Malu and Thamana want to be tutored too. I feel like we'll have an overhead projector in our flat by the time we leave! At RIMS, Colleen and I will teach a few classes a day, and then go to a montessori class to sing songs, tell stories, and interact with the children. I taught them "Singing in the rain" (a ridiculous version that I remember from my third grade teacher. Ill have to tell her it came in handy) and "Little Goldie Goldfish," a song my mother and aunts sang together as children. Between classes I am teaching the teachers Spanish (baha oh yeahhhh!) and trying to learn Malayalam…oh and lesson planning. There is one computer with internet for the teachers at the school (administration has some, but we cant use those), so access is limited. (I ordered a broadband internet USB thing and will have it within the next week….so Ill be online more frequently and will be able to Skype!!!) Once Colleen and I get home, within minutes theres a doorbell ring and all the flat kids are skipping about asking for us to come out and play or to come in and color with us. They will leave at about 8 pm, we eat dinner and pass out. PHEW! It is a lot of fun though because the little girls always love to sing and dance, so its not uncommon for us to whip out some Lady Gaga, Spice Girls, N'sync, and lets not forget… TECHNO!!!
Power outages at school are common. I also discovered last week that if I press PRINT on one computer, and someone else is already printing something, then the printer will completely ditch that printing job and begin to print my papers. I was unaware that this happens so one teachers double sided worksheets ended up with a math test page on the backs because, silly me, I didn't know the printer was so fickle with print jobs. Its like the teachers at the school. Whenever you are talking to someone, you will be interrupted or distracted by someone else; thus, providing constant chaos and never really finishing conversations. I'm totally fine with this except I want to understand how the heck this trait rubbed off to the computers and printer…."computers are smarter than countries!!!!!" i shouted at colleen on the walk home that day. Oy veh.
I could eat some of my students with a spoon. Ah they are so cute! They are so quiet when I try to get them to speak English in class!! These kids can be loud, I've heard them screaming and yelling in my class, attempting everything in the book to get them to settle down. But, once we start doing a dialogue on "What scares you?" they recoil and whisper "sppspsssspsspsssssssppp" …."Class, could you hear Amin?" "Nooooooooooo." "Amin, could you please speak up?" "spspspspppsssssss" Ten minutes ago this kid was running all over the place screaming. I know you have it in you kids, C'MON! When I ask for a volunteer, the hands shoot up and I hear a roaring clash of voices "Summer maam! MAAAAM! MAAM! MAAM! MAAAAAAAM!!!!!!!" Colleen and I have resorted to the numbered sheets of paper system. Every kid gets a number and we call out a number 1-23, and that student is the 'volunteer'. This works sometimes except that a lot of the kids are screaming and running up to me in class "ma'am my number is 13" "summer ma'am!!! 22! Im 22!" They may also write the number on the back of the sheet of paper i gave them and sprint to the front of the class screaming "14! Im 14!" No your not because I didn't write in a purple marker on the back of a chit of paper that says 8. Anyways, I clearly have a lot to learn about class control, and hopefully the novelty of "foreign ma'am" will wear off eventually and they'll settle down. Its so worth it though when Im outside of class and someone will walk up and say "Summer ma'am, what scares you?" This is quite a feat as most of them will say "what scare of you?" No matter how many times I remodel and write this on the board, they still will say it like that. So when Sara walks up with her toothless smile and says it correctly, I get very excited that I did something right.
Between classes I'll have little girls ask to touch my hair, poke my face, squeeze my cheeks, etc. One of my favorites, Fathima Hanan, always had a ginormous, toothy, smile, with magnified brown eyes twinkling behind her glasses. "Good morning Summer ma'am!" she'll always say. After she poked my face and touched my hair one day, she just scampered off giggling. I have funny hair I suppose. Another girl in my fifth standard, Ridha, brought Colleen and I chocolate one day. Talk about becoming a favorite!!! Haha, I love this girl!! Actually at the end of one of my classes with her, everyone is packing up and Ridha asks, "would ma'am teach us some Spanish?" Oh my gosh I think I melted into the floor, I have and Indian child asking me to teach her Spanish. Its agreed that the last few minutes of class I'll give the girls a tiny Spanish lesson :-) There are only 4 girls in the class so it is absolutely wonderful! Last week we did haikus and proverbs. The girls were able to get the concept of syllables and write their own haikus, and we went over proverbs like "don't cry over spilt milk" and "the grass is always greener…" and their homework is to write a few sentences about a proverb they like and why. Their level of English is clearly higher, as they can communicate easily. The main issue is pronunciation and grammar. "I have a nice two pets" was a sentence in my 5th standard last week.
I have to mention something a student said in Colleen's third standard last week. First, let me explain that whenever Colleen and I mention that we are from USA, the majority of people will say "Obama!!!" Everyone knows about Obama. So, last week in Colleen's class, she explained to the kids that she was from America. She asked, "does anyone know who the president of the United States of America is?" ….ya know, expecting to get a class response of "OBAMA!!" BAHHAHAHA no. One kid shouts, "BUSH! BUSH KILL IRAQ!" Hahahaaha, talk about an awkward collar tugger there…."hmmmmmmk , yes. Bush was the president….does anyone know the president now??" Hehe.
This week the students all have exams, so hopefully Colleen and Summer ma'am will have some more time to figure out some lesson plans and class control techniques. I have plenty more to catch up on, but I must get ready for class now! Oh, and Colleen literally just smashed a (at least two inches long) cockroach with her sneaker and showed it to me. Hmm, nifty.
Pinne kanam.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Eniku Malayalam ishtamaanu
Wednesday, October 6
7:30 am
The great thing about living in a flat in a 6 story building is all the little friends we get to meet! Word has leaked out to some youngsters that there are two white women in the building. Now it is not uncommon for us to look out the windows and have children frantically waving back at us, ear to ear smiles pleading for us to come out and play. One evening we spent quite a bit of time with two 12 year-olds, Thamana and Malu, singing and dancing. Malu showed us classical Indian dance that she learned in dance class (this girl is so good!) and then both showed us a dance normally performed at a wedding. The girls also sang India's national anthem, and a couple other catchy Hindi tunes. I guess I should have seen it coming, because after their singing they instantly demanded that Colleen and I sing. BAHAH. For those of you who know me, you are aware that my strengths lye outside the musical arena…Colleen agrees for herself in the singing aspect (she did play the flute and piano, but clearly we did not have either of these instruments with us). Regardless, we proudly belt out the Star Spangled Banner (seriously, what is the pitch range in that song!?) Malu and Thamana sat wide-eyed and attentive. When we finished they both seemed impressed so I felt better about the whole thing. Malu then asked, "are you famous singers in America?" so seriously, intent and anxious to hear the answer. Oh my goodness I want to put her in my back pocket and carry her around! Don't worry I told her the truth, and gave her an autographed demo CD. The rest of the evening was devoted to dancing to Shakira and Spice Girls (they loved them!), and we taught them the Macarena. Malu made a request at one point for some "fast music, to dance??? uh… bom bom bom!"…I say, "techno?"…she replies "YES YES!! you have techno?" Oh dear Indian child, do I have techno…. I unveiled the techno, house, and dance music sections in my itunes library, a selection that could leave you bouncing up and down for hours. Us four only bounced around for about a half hour but the fact that an Indian child asked me for techno music pretty much just made my life. I have been scolded by college roommates that I make CDS with too much techno, or by car passengers forced to listen to my ipod. I truly have come to paradise!
There are two more little girls who live directly above Colleen and I, and they attend RIMS. Aysha is in 3rd standard and her mother has asked if we would like to tutor her on some weekdays. Of course! Aysha will mosey down to our apartment each Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday with a backpack full o' books. When helping her with Math, I had flashbacks to when my mom would help me with homework…. giving countless examples of word problems, or drawing diagrams to explain how many pairs of shoes Nidha can make out of this number….etc. This time I was my mother. I was giving the examples, doodling division pictures in her notebook, asking how many more tigers than bears India has. Its really cool to see the wheels turning inside her head, and watching as she writes down the correct answer. Thanks for setting a good example mom :-) Aysha also wrote a haiku! I explained syllables to her (this will be a great lesson for some of the kids, too!) and we circled the syllables in different sentences. She got it and wrote her very own haiku! Here it is:
It is a tiger
The dress has seven buttons
It is a spider.
So cute!! I was proud of her.
I want to explain this English business. I said before that most of the teachers at school DO speak English. Others speak some, but don't really understand when Colleen and I speak. This is similar with the little girls Malu and Thamana, they understand us for the most part, but there is a lot of repeating and saying "huh?" on both ends of the conversation. Indian English is the current form of English spoken in India. India has the largest number of English speakers in the world. However, the Indian English spoken has a thick accent influenced by both British English and native languages. The grammar differs as well. Certain word plurals will be given an 's': maths, furnitures… and they always say "isn't it?" at the end of random statements: He is a nice person, isn't it? I'll be back later, isn't it?" Or they say things like "how is it?" in random context or "what you want?" Anyways, the kids at the school can understand their teachers' English (which Colleen and I can barely understand), and they have a hard time understanding the American accent. They can communicate what they need to; however, it is very evident that Colleen and I will need to work a lot on pronunciation and grammar. My II standard class yesterday had a very difficult time with my "What scares you?" lesson. They keep saying "what scared of you?"
Nyaan our inglish teechar aanu. I am and English teacher. Malayalam (the local language spoken in Kerala) is such a beautiful language that flows and rolls about of the tongue and on paper. However, it is really stinkin' hard to learn. I have every intention of becoming fluent in this language so I am studying as much as possible. I am trying to find a English-Malayalam dictionary; however I can only find a Malayalam-English dictionary---the words are all written in the loopdy loos, so I cant really use that dictionary :(. I don't even know if one exists because I doubt there is high demand for English speakers to learn Malayalam. Right now I have a small phrase book (and a whole school of Malayalam speakers) to learn from. So that will have to do for now. There are so many sounds that I've never heard or uttered before in my life, so I'm rrr-ing, and gkn-ing, and zha-ing, about in my room to practice as much as possible. Welp its time for school! Pinne kanaam! (see ya later)
7:30 am
The great thing about living in a flat in a 6 story building is all the little friends we get to meet! Word has leaked out to some youngsters that there are two white women in the building. Now it is not uncommon for us to look out the windows and have children frantically waving back at us, ear to ear smiles pleading for us to come out and play. One evening we spent quite a bit of time with two 12 year-olds, Thamana and Malu, singing and dancing. Malu showed us classical Indian dance that she learned in dance class (this girl is so good!) and then both showed us a dance normally performed at a wedding. The girls also sang India's national anthem, and a couple other catchy Hindi tunes. I guess I should have seen it coming, because after their singing they instantly demanded that Colleen and I sing. BAHAH. For those of you who know me, you are aware that my strengths lye outside the musical arena…Colleen agrees for herself in the singing aspect (she did play the flute and piano, but clearly we did not have either of these instruments with us). Regardless, we proudly belt out the Star Spangled Banner (seriously, what is the pitch range in that song!?) Malu and Thamana sat wide-eyed and attentive. When we finished they both seemed impressed so I felt better about the whole thing. Malu then asked, "are you famous singers in America?" so seriously, intent and anxious to hear the answer. Oh my goodness I want to put her in my back pocket and carry her around! Don't worry I told her the truth, and gave her an autographed demo CD. The rest of the evening was devoted to dancing to Shakira and Spice Girls (they loved them!), and we taught them the Macarena. Malu made a request at one point for some "fast music, to dance??? uh… bom bom bom!"…I say, "techno?"…she replies "YES YES!! you have techno?" Oh dear Indian child, do I have techno…. I unveiled the techno, house, and dance music sections in my itunes library, a selection that could leave you bouncing up and down for hours. Us four only bounced around for about a half hour but the fact that an Indian child asked me for techno music pretty much just made my life. I have been scolded by college roommates that I make CDS with too much techno, or by car passengers forced to listen to my ipod. I truly have come to paradise!
There are two more little girls who live directly above Colleen and I, and they attend RIMS. Aysha is in 3rd standard and her mother has asked if we would like to tutor her on some weekdays. Of course! Aysha will mosey down to our apartment each Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday with a backpack full o' books. When helping her with Math, I had flashbacks to when my mom would help me with homework…. giving countless examples of word problems, or drawing diagrams to explain how many pairs of shoes Nidha can make out of this number….etc. This time I was my mother. I was giving the examples, doodling division pictures in her notebook, asking how many more tigers than bears India has. Its really cool to see the wheels turning inside her head, and watching as she writes down the correct answer. Thanks for setting a good example mom :-) Aysha also wrote a haiku! I explained syllables to her (this will be a great lesson for some of the kids, too!) and we circled the syllables in different sentences. She got it and wrote her very own haiku! Here it is:
It is a tiger
The dress has seven buttons
It is a spider.
So cute!! I was proud of her.
I want to explain this English business. I said before that most of the teachers at school DO speak English. Others speak some, but don't really understand when Colleen and I speak. This is similar with the little girls Malu and Thamana, they understand us for the most part, but there is a lot of repeating and saying "huh?" on both ends of the conversation. Indian English is the current form of English spoken in India. India has the largest number of English speakers in the world. However, the Indian English spoken has a thick accent influenced by both British English and native languages. The grammar differs as well. Certain word plurals will be given an 's': maths, furnitures… and they always say "isn't it?" at the end of random statements: He is a nice person, isn't it? I'll be back later, isn't it?" Or they say things like "how is it?" in random context or "what you want?" Anyways, the kids at the school can understand their teachers' English (which Colleen and I can barely understand), and they have a hard time understanding the American accent. They can communicate what they need to; however, it is very evident that Colleen and I will need to work a lot on pronunciation and grammar. My II standard class yesterday had a very difficult time with my "What scares you?" lesson. They keep saying "what scared of you?"
Nyaan our inglish teechar aanu. I am and English teacher. Malayalam (the local language spoken in Kerala) is such a beautiful language that flows and rolls about of the tongue and on paper. However, it is really stinkin' hard to learn. I have every intention of becoming fluent in this language so I am studying as much as possible. I am trying to find a English-Malayalam dictionary; however I can only find a Malayalam-English dictionary---the words are all written in the loopdy loos, so I cant really use that dictionary :(. I don't even know if one exists because I doubt there is high demand for English speakers to learn Malayalam. Right now I have a small phrase book (and a whole school of Malayalam speakers) to learn from. So that will have to do for now. There are so many sounds that I've never heard or uttered before in my life, so I'm rrr-ing, and gkn-ing, and zha-ing, about in my room to practice as much as possible. Welp its time for school! Pinne kanaam! (see ya later)
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Fashion Flashbacks
I would now like to discuss the task of clothes shopping for a 5'11, average built, full-figured female individual as myself. I am having flashbacks to specific traumatic incidents in Calcutta (as history is repeating itself here in Kannur). I am a very large human compared to the common population (men and women) of India. Therefore, the Large size here is more like a small American medium. Many vendors like to tell me "don't worry I have big size for you!" I've accepted this but I got to a point in shopping in Calcutta where I would reply to the Kelly Tucker** size garment displayed before me, "thats definitely not big size" and they would say "iz ok it stretch for you!" In addition to the general size difference, I have concluded that Indian women have ridiculously thin arms and not very broad shoulders. I have gotten stuck in a number of shirts this way in order to come to this conclusion…therefore it is valid. Flashback: I'm at South City Mall (which is very nice and very westernized) in a giant store which could constitute as the equivalent to a Macy's. I am in line for the dressing room to try on a dress. There are about 15 women (ages 15-40 we'll say) in line for the dressing room, all of whom keep staring at me shamelessly. I look in the large communal mirror to sneak peeks at the others (because I don't like staring!!) and see that I am a good 7 inches to a foot taller than everyone around me. I also notice that everyone in this line is wearing some western trendy jeans and shirt combo…….except me. Oh no, I definitely decided that morning that I was going to wear my Indian gear; thus, clothing myself in the long kurti shirt, with the slouchy cotton churidar pants. So, theres about 15 western-dressed Indian women around the obscenely tall, blonde, pale American dressed like an Indian. This is my story setting. I proceed to the dressing room with my one garment, adorable Dress size L, (there was hope that this would fit) and slip it on. Well looks like a perfect fi-- holy crap my arm circulation! ahhhhhh, **struggle, struggle**..:::twist::..:::swish:::…:::pffffffzzt:::… 'omg am I going to rip this?!'…. everything but the arm holes/shoulders fit and so I have found myself panicked and flailing about within the dressing room, freaking out that I will A. most certainly rip the dress or B. lose my upper limbs to the unfortunate asphyxiation of my arms. Ya know how they tell you when a boa constrictor is strangling you that thrashing around will only make it squeeze even tighter? What a handy little principle I elected NOT to try during this dilemma. With each twitching shimmy, the tight mini cap sleeves finagle up to the tops of my shoulders and and I start assessing the fact that I very well may need help to get this dress off me. Ugh, and I know the all the other tiny-armed-in-western-gear-women are all wondering what the heck happened to that random Indian poser white girl with ONE item of clothing 15 minutes ago. I know you want the story to get better, but I somehow managed to wriggle free from the death grip of those dang cap sleeves--dress unharmed--- and emerge from the room sweating, beat red face, and giant red bands around my upper arms and shoulders (did I mention that my kurti was sleeveless?), oh, and stripped of all dignity. I find Phil Collins in the store and they are like "dude where were you?!"…."oh i got stuck in a dress, no big."
I frequently experience a slightly less intense version of this scenario. Oy veh. Maybe I should stop doing so many handstands……?……..nah. :-)
**good friend, very small
I frequently experience a slightly less intense version of this scenario. Oy veh. Maybe I should stop doing so many handstands……?……..nah. :-)
**good friend, very small
Real Innovative Montessori Society
The RIMS school was established a year ago and has about 200 students from ages 2 1/2 to 13. The teachers speak English (though it is difficult to understand some, and others' is very broken). There are classes taught in English and Malayalam (local language that is known as one of the most difficult to learn in India) and the students also receive Hindi and Arabic classes. Management is Muslim, and most of the students are Muslim; however, there are Hindu teachers and students as well. I was told a couple students are Christian but I have not met them yet. All around, it is a very welcoming and peaceful atmosphere. The environment as a whole is very enriching, as Anis Sir expressed that they are trying to provide a space where not only IQ is important, but also EQ (emotional quotient), SQ (spiritual quotient), PQ (physical quotient), etc. (They have yoga classes and will soon have horseback ridding!) He has told me so many times that he is thrilled that Colleen and I are here to contribute our knowledge and culture, and hopes that we can all exchange different ideas, and learn from one another. He is a genuine individual and a great fit as the school's principal as it is evident that he cares so much for the students and well-being of the school. I must admit, that he is a bit intimidating as he is one of the larger (6'3 I'd say) Indian men I've met, and he dresses in the all white with a little cap Muslim get up (thanks American perception). All I can say is that I have already had amazing conversations with some teachers, and I am looking forward to working in this peaceful environment, and learning as much as possible about the school, people, religions, and culture.
On Thursday, school had to leave early because at 3:30 there was a huge court case that was going to decide whether a building was a Muslim Mosque or a Hindu Temple. Apparently for years it had been a mosque, then it was used as a temple… and now there has been fighting between the two religions as to who the holy building belongs to. At RIMS, teachers were bustling about and hurrying all the children home. The only thing they cared about was making sure the children were safe, and didn't care less about the verdict of the case. I asked several teachers (Hindu and Muslim) about the situation and they kept saying "who cares if its a mosque or a temple? we just want it to be peaceful here." Depending on the decision of the court, one religious group could get feisty and the possibility of a strike was imminent, this is why the school was let out early. It turns out, the court decided the holy place would officially serve as both a mosque and temple. I guess the official decision is what mattered. Anyways, my point is that the management of the school didn't give a rats behind about the determination of religion within some building, but the safety and well being of the students and teachers.
Let me explain the layout of classes. There are three montessori classes: M1= 2 1/2 - 3 1/2, M2= 3 1/2 - 4 1/2, M3= 4 1/2 - 5 1/2. I was not incredibly familiar with this method of teaching before arriving here, I had just heard of it. The smaller children arrive to their environments and begin work on their own. Each child rolls out his own mat and retrieves an activity to complete. For the younger kids the activities involve a lot of buttons, zippers, and tying strings. There are other 'everyday life' activities--example: a child will get the tea set, fill the pitcher with water, and go to his/her station and use to pitcher to fill the small cups with water to the marked dotted line on the inside of the cup. There are also a lot of puzzles to identify objects and animals, and lots of number forms to facilitate counting. I was blown away in visiting each of these environments as these kids are taking out pictures of planes, brushes, ships, etc….and then using foam letters to spell out these things on their mats….and these kids are less than 5!!!! Before they enter into I standard (1st grade) they will already be able to read and write, count, add, subtract, and multiply. This blows my mind as I remember learning multiplication in 3rd grade, and reading my first (longer than 3 pages book) (Go, Dog, Go) completely by myself in 1st grade. This montessori stuff is legit and I'm excited to learn more about it.
After montessori classes there is I standard to VI standard….. standard = grade…. I have been given I standard-B, II Standard, and V Standard classes to teach English. I am expected to ensure that the students develop proper pronunciation and grammar, as well as communicate effectively with English speakers worldwide. (right now I have my work cut out for me as pretty much everyone here has a difficult time understanding the American accent…the kids just kind of stare at me with a big '?' dangling over their heads). I am also going to facilitate co-curricular activities--outdoor sports and crafts, etc. The kids all keep asking when I get to teach their English class or when I will teach them volleyball :-)
Might I just add how precious all of these kids are… I've already found some 'favorites.' They all come to school in their camel colored uniforms---little girls in frilly tan striped dresses that tie in the back---little boys in khaki pants with a collared white shirt that's stained within the first 30 minutes of school. Each morning they begin an assembly with a prayer and then salute India with their arms out straight as they sing the national anthem in high pitched, adorably out of tune voices. The assembly is then followed with Kerala News and Interesting Facts, orated by one of the older girls. I am officially "Summer ma'am."
RIMS is under construction right now so the current building is actually an old house. Next to it they are building a two story building which should be finished and ready to move into within a month (or so they say….it looks like longer to me but ya know… just roll with it). The real project--which is what you'll see if you visit the website--is under construction some kilometers away, and is expected to be finished within the next 2 years. Each passing year, they hope to add another standard to the school….next year they will have VII standard, the next VIII, etc. Anis Sir has already offered Colleen and I a job after our three month internship….hmmmmmmm ;-) ….until then I gotta start lesson planning for my first classes!!!
On Thursday, school had to leave early because at 3:30 there was a huge court case that was going to decide whether a building was a Muslim Mosque or a Hindu Temple. Apparently for years it had been a mosque, then it was used as a temple… and now there has been fighting between the two religions as to who the holy building belongs to. At RIMS, teachers were bustling about and hurrying all the children home. The only thing they cared about was making sure the children were safe, and didn't care less about the verdict of the case. I asked several teachers (Hindu and Muslim) about the situation and they kept saying "who cares if its a mosque or a temple? we just want it to be peaceful here." Depending on the decision of the court, one religious group could get feisty and the possibility of a strike was imminent, this is why the school was let out early. It turns out, the court decided the holy place would officially serve as both a mosque and temple. I guess the official decision is what mattered. Anyways, my point is that the management of the school didn't give a rats behind about the determination of religion within some building, but the safety and well being of the students and teachers.
Let me explain the layout of classes. There are three montessori classes: M1= 2 1/2 - 3 1/2, M2= 3 1/2 - 4 1/2, M3= 4 1/2 - 5 1/2. I was not incredibly familiar with this method of teaching before arriving here, I had just heard of it. The smaller children arrive to their environments and begin work on their own. Each child rolls out his own mat and retrieves an activity to complete. For the younger kids the activities involve a lot of buttons, zippers, and tying strings. There are other 'everyday life' activities--example: a child will get the tea set, fill the pitcher with water, and go to his/her station and use to pitcher to fill the small cups with water to the marked dotted line on the inside of the cup. There are also a lot of puzzles to identify objects and animals, and lots of number forms to facilitate counting. I was blown away in visiting each of these environments as these kids are taking out pictures of planes, brushes, ships, etc….and then using foam letters to spell out these things on their mats….and these kids are less than 5!!!! Before they enter into I standard (1st grade) they will already be able to read and write, count, add, subtract, and multiply. This blows my mind as I remember learning multiplication in 3rd grade, and reading my first (longer than 3 pages book) (Go, Dog, Go) completely by myself in 1st grade. This montessori stuff is legit and I'm excited to learn more about it.
After montessori classes there is I standard to VI standard….. standard = grade…. I have been given I standard-B, II Standard, and V Standard classes to teach English. I am expected to ensure that the students develop proper pronunciation and grammar, as well as communicate effectively with English speakers worldwide. (right now I have my work cut out for me as pretty much everyone here has a difficult time understanding the American accent…the kids just kind of stare at me with a big '?' dangling over their heads). I am also going to facilitate co-curricular activities--outdoor sports and crafts, etc. The kids all keep asking when I get to teach their English class or when I will teach them volleyball :-)
Might I just add how precious all of these kids are… I've already found some 'favorites.' They all come to school in their camel colored uniforms---little girls in frilly tan striped dresses that tie in the back---little boys in khaki pants with a collared white shirt that's stained within the first 30 minutes of school. Each morning they begin an assembly with a prayer and then salute India with their arms out straight as they sing the national anthem in high pitched, adorably out of tune voices. The assembly is then followed with Kerala News and Interesting Facts, orated by one of the older girls. I am officially "Summer ma'am."
RIMS is under construction right now so the current building is actually an old house. Next to it they are building a two story building which should be finished and ready to move into within a month (or so they say….it looks like longer to me but ya know… just roll with it). The real project--which is what you'll see if you visit the website--is under construction some kilometers away, and is expected to be finished within the next 2 years. Each passing year, they hope to add another standard to the school….next year they will have VII standard, the next VIII, etc. Anis Sir has already offered Colleen and I a job after our three month internship….hmmmmmmm ;-) ….until then I gotta start lesson planning for my first classes!!!
Welcome to Paradise
Saturday, Oct 2
7:27 am
Those four smiling faces included Sajid Sir, co-ordinator from other schools, Anis Sir, RIMS school principal, Shilpa, school accountant, and Aaliya, school secretary. This arrival to Kannur, Kerala, India was at 10:30 am on Wednesday, and from then to now, I have never felt so welcomed to anywhere in my life! All of these individuals have gone out of their way to ensure that my stay here is the best they can make it….I was under the impression that I was serving them! Anyways, they take me to my flat (apartment), which is on the fifth floor of a building looking over Kannur. I walk in to this thing and was like omg Ive come to paradise. Shining cream tiled floors, kitchen (bigger than mine at home!) with microwave, four gas burners, and stocked fridge with orange juice, pepsi, and biscuits. Cabinets decorated with coffee fixin's and noodles…. theres a dining table, one big couch, and two cushy one person chairs, two bedrooms--each with their own bathroom, and AC! All windows in the flat provide for a panoramic view including the beach, a soccer field, the market, main road, and very crossable--normal traffic flow(for India)--streets. AND we have a washer!!! NO MORE HANDWASHING CLOTHES WOOOOOOOP! Ok so they instantly feed me some veggie curry and chapati (turn up the spice level from Kolkata by about 5 times) I wolf it down. Every meal I have had for the past couple days is just so full-flavored and spiced to perfection. I'm sipping my morning coffee now as I write this and I'm almost drooling thinking about the next time I get to eat ahhhhh! Haha they keep trying to feed me! Every hour its like…are you hungry? do you need something? I can order for you. Try this! I made it! …. I'm getting off track as usual and you're probably wondering about the people here and not just the food. Everyone is SO friendly and welcoming! I feel like a celebrity! Aaliya and Shilpa took me under their wing as far as showing me the ropes and around the area before Colleen arrived here Friday. Aaliya is an outgoing, bubbly, hilarious, 20-year-old (though she's wise beyond her years) who started speaking my language (and by this I don't mean English) when we arrived to the flat and she instantly busted out some chocolate creme cookies. Shilpa is a sweet, caring, and accommodating 28-year-old woman (though she looks so young!) from Hyderbad. We hung out and chatted all afternoon on Wednesday, and I feel like we are the best of friends now just a couple days later!
I went to visit the school on Wednesday (see next blog for school details). All of the teachers were so sweet and welcoming, all saying "oh you must help me with my English!" "we have been waiting and waiting for you!" "we are so excited to have you!" I was brought into each classroom where all the students would stand up and say "good morning ma'am." Wherever I was at any point I'd hear giggles and turn around to see a bunch of kids following me and whispering… only to scamper away giggling if I said anything. I told one of the teachers that none of the students would ever respond to me! only stare and smile! She said "well you are like a celebrity to them! They only see people that look like you on TV so you might as well be famous!"
Today the school has a program called "Grandparents Day," where all the children's grandparents come to be honored. Sir has asked Colleen and I to give small speeches, as we will also be welcomed to the school during the program. There will also be a Food Fair--all the parents make a dish to bring--and people will purchase tickets to eat items of food. All the proceeds will be donated to a local orphanage to teach the children the importance of giving. (Yes I have every intention of finding this orphanage. Anytime this word is uttered I perk up attentively.)
***Im writing this after grandparents day now. It was precious when each child brought their elders a single rose to honor them. Colleen and I were warmly welcomed and got to sit up front of the audience before we were called to make our speeches. I think my fondest memory of the day was when Colleen and I got to go to the judging room where they picked the best parent-made dish of the day (winner got a prize). We went crazy trying all sorts of typical Keralan/Muslim dishes. It was like a buffet with 30 dishes I've never tasted---rolls, chicken, fish cutlets, rice cake masala something, egg stuff, everything with some spicy kick….all home made!! bakshanam kayichu <---I ate food. (malayalam)
7:27 am
Those four smiling faces included Sajid Sir, co-ordinator from other schools, Anis Sir, RIMS school principal, Shilpa, school accountant, and Aaliya, school secretary. This arrival to Kannur, Kerala, India was at 10:30 am on Wednesday, and from then to now, I have never felt so welcomed to anywhere in my life! All of these individuals have gone out of their way to ensure that my stay here is the best they can make it….I was under the impression that I was serving them! Anyways, they take me to my flat (apartment), which is on the fifth floor of a building looking over Kannur. I walk in to this thing and was like omg Ive come to paradise. Shining cream tiled floors, kitchen (bigger than mine at home!) with microwave, four gas burners, and stocked fridge with orange juice, pepsi, and biscuits. Cabinets decorated with coffee fixin's and noodles…. theres a dining table, one big couch, and two cushy one person chairs, two bedrooms--each with their own bathroom, and AC! All windows in the flat provide for a panoramic view including the beach, a soccer field, the market, main road, and very crossable--normal traffic flow(for India)--streets. AND we have a washer!!! NO MORE HANDWASHING CLOTHES WOOOOOOOP! Ok so they instantly feed me some veggie curry and chapati (turn up the spice level from Kolkata by about 5 times) I wolf it down. Every meal I have had for the past couple days is just so full-flavored and spiced to perfection. I'm sipping my morning coffee now as I write this and I'm almost drooling thinking about the next time I get to eat ahhhhh! Haha they keep trying to feed me! Every hour its like…are you hungry? do you need something? I can order for you. Try this! I made it! …. I'm getting off track as usual and you're probably wondering about the people here and not just the food. Everyone is SO friendly and welcoming! I feel like a celebrity! Aaliya and Shilpa took me under their wing as far as showing me the ropes and around the area before Colleen arrived here Friday. Aaliya is an outgoing, bubbly, hilarious, 20-year-old (though she's wise beyond her years) who started speaking my language (and by this I don't mean English) when we arrived to the flat and she instantly busted out some chocolate creme cookies. Shilpa is a sweet, caring, and accommodating 28-year-old woman (though she looks so young!) from Hyderbad. We hung out and chatted all afternoon on Wednesday, and I feel like we are the best of friends now just a couple days later!
I went to visit the school on Wednesday (see next blog for school details). All of the teachers were so sweet and welcoming, all saying "oh you must help me with my English!" "we have been waiting and waiting for you!" "we are so excited to have you!" I was brought into each classroom where all the students would stand up and say "good morning ma'am." Wherever I was at any point I'd hear giggles and turn around to see a bunch of kids following me and whispering… only to scamper away giggling if I said anything. I told one of the teachers that none of the students would ever respond to me! only stare and smile! She said "well you are like a celebrity to them! They only see people that look like you on TV so you might as well be famous!"
Today the school has a program called "Grandparents Day," where all the children's grandparents come to be honored. Sir has asked Colleen and I to give small speeches, as we will also be welcomed to the school during the program. There will also be a Food Fair--all the parents make a dish to bring--and people will purchase tickets to eat items of food. All the proceeds will be donated to a local orphanage to teach the children the importance of giving. (Yes I have every intention of finding this orphanage. Anytime this word is uttered I perk up attentively.)
***Im writing this after grandparents day now. It was precious when each child brought their elders a single rose to honor them. Colleen and I were warmly welcomed and got to sit up front of the audience before we were called to make our speeches. I think my fondest memory of the day was when Colleen and I got to go to the judging room where they picked the best parent-made dish of the day (winner got a prize). We went crazy trying all sorts of typical Keralan/Muslim dishes. It was like a buffet with 30 dishes I've never tasted---rolls, chicken, fish cutlets, rice cake masala something, egg stuff, everything with some spicy kick….all home made!! bakshanam kayichu <---I ate food. (malayalam)
Please let me be AC! Please let me be AC!
On Monday at about 1 pm, I arrive to the Calcutta train station. I haul my GIANT (I need to send stuff home!) suitcase out of the car and chill on the platform until my train to Chennai, India arrives. I was told that some parts of the train have AC, others don't. In fond memory of a joke with Kat, Megs, Kels, and Tosh.0, I kept chanting to myself, 'please let me be AC, please let me be AC!" I knew that my train to Chennai arrived sometime the next day, and that I would then board another train, only to arrive yet again, the following day; thus, summing up to a 2 day train journey. Train arrives, I find my section and board….thank you ATI I've got AC!!! So my suitcase is the size of a small teenager, so fitting it under the seat was out of the question…crap. You walk into the train, turn left into the car… ok on the left side are bunk beds (attached to the wall) going parallel to the wall of the train. On the right there are sections of two sets of 3 tiered bunk beds going perpendicular to the walls. I am sitting with four lovely Muslim women who offered me a banana. The husband of one of them is also sitting in the section. They spoke Tamil, a language of southern India. Communication for the next 25 hours involved a lot of pointing, charades, and smiling and nodding. At bedtime we pull the beds out from the wall, and my 5 companions all maxing out at 5 ft snuggle up into their bunks. Alright, again lets review that in India, I need "big size," simply based on the fact that Im pushing six feet with an athletic build (plus some extra love), and sasquatch size feet. So when I climb up onto my third tier that is only 2.5 feet from the ceiling, not only can I not sit up (which makes drinking water quite hilarious because I crick my neck to the side and drink sideways…typically not yielding success), but my feet hang off the end of the bed…which would have been ok had I not been the first bunk to the right of the car door, so when it was opened it would knock my feet. OH WAIT! I bet you forgot what happened to my small teenager suitcase! MUAHAHA whelp, that was handily shoved up in my bunk for my personal company. I did what I could to push it sideways so that I could get at least 3 feet of room to lean against it or curl up in a fetal position next to it. Nothing listening to a little ABBA couldn't fix! I actually did sleep a bit out of pure exhaustion; however, I did feel like the un-oiled tin man when I awoke (in addition the the other 15 times in the night) the next morning to the vendor dudes walking up and down the aisles going "CHAI! CHAIIII"…"COFFFFEEEEE", "BIRIYANI" "CUTLET, CUTLET, VEGGIE CUTLET"….yes thats real. I pretty much fell out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. (which by the way is a simple hole in the floor, so you can watch the train tracks pass by as you cross India).
Funny story--I have three silly bands on my wrists: a stretched out camel (my very first from Sarah! :-), a hand peace sign, and a dragonfly. At one point one of the Muslim women pointed to my wrist decorated in these fun-filled bracelets with an inquisitive look. I proceed to pull them off and set them out to display their shapes. All the women watched in awe. I decided, that since I've brought like 5 bags of silly bands, to whip one out so they could see more shapes. They spent like a half hour separating and identifying 10 silly bands on the small table in our section, all discussing which animal was which and asking how to say it in English. There are now 4 women-- clad in saris and the black Muslim over-coat thing with a head cover--- all wearing silly bands somewhere in Chennai, India. I love it.
Lets move this along. I get to Chennai and end up talking to a Pastor, two inquisitive children, and a Portuguese girl who had all but one of her bags stolen. After about three hours I get to board the next train (this is 8 pm Tuesday now) where I am sitting with people who are perfectly fine with me leaving my bag on the floor, which turns out to be fine since I got the bottom bunk this time (MUCH better sleep!) Before I knew it it was morning…I finished my book The Namesake (I highly recommend). This seemed very appropriate since that had many a reference to Calcutta and as I finish the book the train pulled into the Kannur train station. I gather my backpack, purse, and small teenager, and stagger thru the tiny aisle--tousled/borderline dreaded hair, eyes swollen with sleep and dehydration, mangled muscles and all-- ahhhhhh, out into the fresh, tropical, Kerala air. I'm instantly greeted by 4 smiling faces asking, "Summer?"
Funny story--I have three silly bands on my wrists: a stretched out camel (my very first from Sarah! :-), a hand peace sign, and a dragonfly. At one point one of the Muslim women pointed to my wrist decorated in these fun-filled bracelets with an inquisitive look. I proceed to pull them off and set them out to display their shapes. All the women watched in awe. I decided, that since I've brought like 5 bags of silly bands, to whip one out so they could see more shapes. They spent like a half hour separating and identifying 10 silly bands on the small table in our section, all discussing which animal was which and asking how to say it in English. There are now 4 women-- clad in saris and the black Muslim over-coat thing with a head cover--- all wearing silly bands somewhere in Chennai, India. I love it.
Lets move this along. I get to Chennai and end up talking to a Pastor, two inquisitive children, and a Portuguese girl who had all but one of her bags stolen. After about three hours I get to board the next train (this is 8 pm Tuesday now) where I am sitting with people who are perfectly fine with me leaving my bag on the floor, which turns out to be fine since I got the bottom bunk this time (MUCH better sleep!) Before I knew it it was morning…I finished my book The Namesake (I highly recommend). This seemed very appropriate since that had many a reference to Calcutta and as I finish the book the train pulled into the Kannur train station. I gather my backpack, purse, and small teenager, and stagger thru the tiny aisle--tousled/borderline dreaded hair, eyes swollen with sleep and dehydration, mangled muscles and all-- ahhhhhh, out into the fresh, tropical, Kerala air. I'm instantly greeted by 4 smiling faces asking, "Summer?"
"Dis call blackmail"
Wednesday, Sept 29
I feel like Sundays in Calcutta deserve some spectacular name like "Epic Sunday Adventures" or "Shananagans on Sundays"… etc…something to articulate the fact that every Sunday in Calcutta I've experienced an unexpected, exhausting, mind-blowing day. Phil Collins and I set off first to the Indian Coffee House to talk politics and sip cafe like the good ole freedom fighters and revolutionaries of early 1900's India. It was a lot larger than I expected, with high ceilings and open second story windows overlooking the streets of Calcutta. Older men talked business and politics, not seeming too distracted by the three Americans ordering coffee and taking endless candid, 'pondering life' pictures. In the coffee house we ended up chatting with two men--one was teaching the other French of all things! The five of us ended up hanging out the rest of the day swapping favorite authors, poets, musicians, and language skills. (Avik loves Emerson….I knew you'd be excited mom!) Another great thing about us meeting them is that we got a WHOLE lot more out of Calcutta that day--just like when we went to the flower market with our self-initiated tour guide, Ranu a couple sundays back.
So we head off to see Tagore's--famous Indian poet, artist, writer…won the Nobel Prize--house. On our way we pass by the famous Marble Palace! Colleen and I had decided to not go there both because it just sounded like some rich English dude's home AND you have to go thru a permit process with the government to even go onto the grounds…. BAHAH NOPE! While passing by our new friend Avik started talking to the guard; next thing we knew he said…. will you pay 50 rupees to get in?? (this is for all five of us combined)…though I know whats happening I still exclaim, "well we thought we needed a permit to enter." Avik laughs and goes, "We have rule, but we don't always follow….dis here, is call blackmail!" Thus, we get to explore the magnificent Marble Palace (we did have to pay off one more guard). Ok, bug just crawled out of my keyboard…. seriously hate when that happens! Anyways, um yes the mansion was some rich English dude's house built in 1853; however, I have never seen ANYTHING this eclectic! The structure is mainly made of marble (shocking) with giant classical pillars, a courtyard with birds chirping about, and open balconies wrapping around the inner courtyard, each level leading to a thin net before the sky, keeping all the birdies inside. We removed our shoes and followed the tour guide (who I think had every intention of speaking clear English; however I don't really know what language was coming out…Avik translated) This mansion is FILLED with the most random stuff!! Everything is huge, a giant billiard table, statue of Queen Victoria, Belgian glass chandeliers and mirrors (20 feet tall!!). There are endless classical marble and bronze structures of hmm where do I start…. Greek and Roman gods, Venus de Milo, women representing each season (summer was there!), women representing each continent (America looked like Pocahontas), busts of George Washington, Christopher Columbus, Augustus, Napoleon Bonaparte, Claudius someone… so lets continue to the sheet-draped antique furniture cluttering the rooms, tables clad in more statues, paintings, vases, and belgian glass something or other-- I called one of these rooms the Beauty and the Beast room*** Walking along the balcony you'd find a statue of a gorilla, then some paintings of Virgin and Child or Immaculate Conception, an oriental vase, a bust of Warren Hastings, a row of live caged birds from Australia or South America (what?!), more oriental vases (like 2 ft tall, some have bamboo or bird depictions, others just blue glaze designs), another gorilla sculpture….all leading you to a room full of an original Ruben, a portrait of Queen Victorias family, The Last Supper, etc. I seriously don't think I saw one 'Indian' themed thing there! Oh! There were also lots of clocks (dad I thought of you the whole time!…and my 1st grade assignment to "count the clocks in your home" and my number reaching like 50 haha) … antique bronze figures, other intricate swirling designs encompassing the clock face, a giant grandfather clock….all these on a much larger scale than the ones I had at home. I bet you're wondering, 'ah i cant wait to see pictures!'… whelp, I regret to inform you that not even blackmail could permit a photographic documentation of my breath-taking experience. Sorry :-( "Photography Prohibited" is quite the trend here in India.
Lets push onto Tagore's house. Rabindranath Tagore was a famous poet (as mentioned before) and I did not know very much about him before my experience here. I seriously recommend that you wikipedia him as he was an extraordinary person. We toured his mansion, stepping barefoot around his old kitchen, writing room, and bedroom (the room he passed in). Tagore's paintings, as well as those of many other Indian artists, are on display within the museum, peppered with his profound quotes. I left feeling very inclined to read some of his stuff. One thing not really related to Tagore is that I had to giggle as we toured the mansion as there are many guards--clad in the full military uniform with a gun--who are all barefoot! Its like a "whats missing?" picture. Taking off your shoes before entering someone's home, holy place, or really any important building for that matter, is customary. Its more fun when the seriously uniformed individuals do it, though.
Phi Collins, our two new friends, and myself went to a late lunch at a local place recommended by Avik. We chatted some more, thanked them for being helpful, and then the other guy asked me to translate a short story into Spanish so he could practice (so cool!). We bid them farewell and headed to the jam packed, sweaty metro, only to say goodbye to Phil, as his train left in a few hours. This was probably one of the strangest goodbyes I've had as Colleen and I were essentially pushed off the metro while saying "bye Phil we love y--"…mob of people gets on the metro, phil disappears within the crowd while the doors slide shut and the metro speeds away…leaving Colleen and I waving on the platform, cracking up because an Indian metro experience will never be normal.
Oh Kali Temple, how we have waited to see the great Kali Temple! You gotta give Colleen and I some props for this insane amount of sight seeing! I'm on my last leg but I leave the next morning and I reallllly wanted to see this famous three-eyed, angry goddess, inside the Hindu temple. Ugh, we arrive, its shoulder to shoulder crowded, we are instantly spotted and shoved thru the line by a guide (we tried to say no but the floods of people just kind of pushed us his way!) We saw the statue of Kali for about 3 seconds, threw some flowers at her, got a bindi (dot on the forehead), then proceeded to some tree where you give more flowers in honor of your siblings and parents (so barb and jim, you got double the love on this one) and then you make an offering to help feed people who come there to get food everyday. I think we were in there all of ten minutes, walking outside the walls feeling anxious, cheated, and very cranky. I'm glad we got to see it though….???? i think. Im anxious to see some other temples we'll just say :-) Everything is an experience here. Anyways, we bounced back quick and headed home…. got my camera stolen…. then returned…. went home for real…did my laundry (by hand, on hands and knees in the bathroom) and went to bed with my ulnar neuritis all flared up from squeezing clothes. Haha. Probably my most epic day in Calcutta….also my last.
It's been real!
***reference for Disney lovers only
I feel like Sundays in Calcutta deserve some spectacular name like "Epic Sunday Adventures" or "Shananagans on Sundays"… etc…something to articulate the fact that every Sunday in Calcutta I've experienced an unexpected, exhausting, mind-blowing day. Phil Collins and I set off first to the Indian Coffee House to talk politics and sip cafe like the good ole freedom fighters and revolutionaries of early 1900's India. It was a lot larger than I expected, with high ceilings and open second story windows overlooking the streets of Calcutta. Older men talked business and politics, not seeming too distracted by the three Americans ordering coffee and taking endless candid, 'pondering life' pictures. In the coffee house we ended up chatting with two men--one was teaching the other French of all things! The five of us ended up hanging out the rest of the day swapping favorite authors, poets, musicians, and language skills. (Avik loves Emerson….I knew you'd be excited mom!) Another great thing about us meeting them is that we got a WHOLE lot more out of Calcutta that day--just like when we went to the flower market with our self-initiated tour guide, Ranu a couple sundays back.
So we head off to see Tagore's--famous Indian poet, artist, writer…won the Nobel Prize--house. On our way we pass by the famous Marble Palace! Colleen and I had decided to not go there both because it just sounded like some rich English dude's home AND you have to go thru a permit process with the government to even go onto the grounds…. BAHAH NOPE! While passing by our new friend Avik started talking to the guard; next thing we knew he said…. will you pay 50 rupees to get in?? (this is for all five of us combined)…though I know whats happening I still exclaim, "well we thought we needed a permit to enter." Avik laughs and goes, "We have rule, but we don't always follow….dis here, is call blackmail!" Thus, we get to explore the magnificent Marble Palace (we did have to pay off one more guard). Ok, bug just crawled out of my keyboard…. seriously hate when that happens! Anyways, um yes the mansion was some rich English dude's house built in 1853; however, I have never seen ANYTHING this eclectic! The structure is mainly made of marble (shocking) with giant classical pillars, a courtyard with birds chirping about, and open balconies wrapping around the inner courtyard, each level leading to a thin net before the sky, keeping all the birdies inside. We removed our shoes and followed the tour guide (who I think had every intention of speaking clear English; however I don't really know what language was coming out…Avik translated) This mansion is FILLED with the most random stuff!! Everything is huge, a giant billiard table, statue of Queen Victoria, Belgian glass chandeliers and mirrors (20 feet tall!!). There are endless classical marble and bronze structures of hmm where do I start…. Greek and Roman gods, Venus de Milo, women representing each season (summer was there!), women representing each continent (America looked like Pocahontas), busts of George Washington, Christopher Columbus, Augustus, Napoleon Bonaparte, Claudius someone… so lets continue to the sheet-draped antique furniture cluttering the rooms, tables clad in more statues, paintings, vases, and belgian glass something or other-- I called one of these rooms the Beauty and the Beast room*** Walking along the balcony you'd find a statue of a gorilla, then some paintings of Virgin and Child or Immaculate Conception, an oriental vase, a bust of Warren Hastings, a row of live caged birds from Australia or South America (what?!), more oriental vases (like 2 ft tall, some have bamboo or bird depictions, others just blue glaze designs), another gorilla sculpture….all leading you to a room full of an original Ruben, a portrait of Queen Victorias family, The Last Supper, etc. I seriously don't think I saw one 'Indian' themed thing there! Oh! There were also lots of clocks (dad I thought of you the whole time!…and my 1st grade assignment to "count the clocks in your home" and my number reaching like 50 haha) … antique bronze figures, other intricate swirling designs encompassing the clock face, a giant grandfather clock….all these on a much larger scale than the ones I had at home. I bet you're wondering, 'ah i cant wait to see pictures!'… whelp, I regret to inform you that not even blackmail could permit a photographic documentation of my breath-taking experience. Sorry :-( "Photography Prohibited" is quite the trend here in India.
Lets push onto Tagore's house. Rabindranath Tagore was a famous poet (as mentioned before) and I did not know very much about him before my experience here. I seriously recommend that you wikipedia him as he was an extraordinary person. We toured his mansion, stepping barefoot around his old kitchen, writing room, and bedroom (the room he passed in). Tagore's paintings, as well as those of many other Indian artists, are on display within the museum, peppered with his profound quotes. I left feeling very inclined to read some of his stuff. One thing not really related to Tagore is that I had to giggle as we toured the mansion as there are many guards--clad in the full military uniform with a gun--who are all barefoot! Its like a "whats missing?" picture. Taking off your shoes before entering someone's home, holy place, or really any important building for that matter, is customary. Its more fun when the seriously uniformed individuals do it, though.
Phi Collins, our two new friends, and myself went to a late lunch at a local place recommended by Avik. We chatted some more, thanked them for being helpful, and then the other guy asked me to translate a short story into Spanish so he could practice (so cool!). We bid them farewell and headed to the jam packed, sweaty metro, only to say goodbye to Phil, as his train left in a few hours. This was probably one of the strangest goodbyes I've had as Colleen and I were essentially pushed off the metro while saying "bye Phil we love y--"…mob of people gets on the metro, phil disappears within the crowd while the doors slide shut and the metro speeds away…leaving Colleen and I waving on the platform, cracking up because an Indian metro experience will never be normal.
Oh Kali Temple, how we have waited to see the great Kali Temple! You gotta give Colleen and I some props for this insane amount of sight seeing! I'm on my last leg but I leave the next morning and I reallllly wanted to see this famous three-eyed, angry goddess, inside the Hindu temple. Ugh, we arrive, its shoulder to shoulder crowded, we are instantly spotted and shoved thru the line by a guide (we tried to say no but the floods of people just kind of pushed us his way!) We saw the statue of Kali for about 3 seconds, threw some flowers at her, got a bindi (dot on the forehead), then proceeded to some tree where you give more flowers in honor of your siblings and parents (so barb and jim, you got double the love on this one) and then you make an offering to help feed people who come there to get food everyday. I think we were in there all of ten minutes, walking outside the walls feeling anxious, cheated, and very cranky. I'm glad we got to see it though….???? i think. Im anxious to see some other temples we'll just say :-) Everything is an experience here. Anyways, we bounced back quick and headed home…. got my camera stolen…. then returned…. went home for real…did my laundry (by hand, on hands and knees in the bathroom) and went to bed with my ulnar neuritis all flared up from squeezing clothes. Haha. Probably my most epic day in Calcutta….also my last.
It's been real!
***reference for Disney lovers only
Teaching Practice Recap
Wednesday, Sept 29
I have sooooo much to catch up on!!! I would have written most of my "catch-up" blogging on the two day train ride to Kerala; however, under certain circumstances (stay tuned!) I felt that whipping out a Macbook during my third-bunk-made-for-a-small-child-with-people-staring-at-me-for-40-hours-experience may be less than responsible. Anyways… a lot I have to say will be in condensed form, and probably a little scattered. So bear with me. Ok ..:::fog screen and harp playing in background:::… lets reminisce about my last days in Calcutta.
Two of my practice lessons were in an all boys government school. Now, my very first practice class in the all girls government school had a class size of 60 and it went wonderfully--they were well behaved, eager to learn, and just stinkin' adorable. The boys were 10-12 years-old and holy guacamole (man i miss guacamole), these kids were CRAZY!!! On our first day at this all boys government school, all six of us teachers walked out pretty much drooling and giggling, like we'd been shot with a taser gun. The boys were rambunctious, loud, bouncing off the walls, pinching, touching, laughing, shouting, jumping, throwing… "class control" on our evaluation sheets became irrelevant. You have to laugh because when we arrived in pairs to each classroom, the teachers dipped out and were nowhere to be seen until we found them in the office after our lessons, lounging and chatting with tea. At that point we understood why they left so abruptly when we arrived…"yes! break from hell!!!" Haha! Anyways, boys will be boys and the next day we taught there the lessons went much smoother and they behaved better--they were able to repeat some vocab (despite the fact that our prepared lessons were definitely more advanced than the language level of the children…ATI required that we do 5 different lessons of all levels; however, the classes we were given did not always match the levels of the kids so that made it a bit difficult)… I think the combination of the fact that we served as "substitutes" for the days (oh and we all know how we've treated substitutes), and the fact that we are strange white people with funny accents probably got them jostled into an excessive form of excitement. It was an experience to say the least. On a personal level, I felt more comfortable and confident as the week went on, and my last lesson seemed just like another class for me! I loved every minute!
I have to mention that at every school we went to, all the kids were jumping out of their skin saying "Hello!" "Nice to meet you!" "signacha?? pleeeease!?!?" They all wanted our signature/autograph and/or to shake hands with us when we left. We felt like celebrities! My classmate, Matt, said, "I don't think I've ever gotten that excited about another human being before!" Haha, I have to agree with that. We enjoyed it while it lasted.
I have sooooo much to catch up on!!! I would have written most of my "catch-up" blogging on the two day train ride to Kerala; however, under certain circumstances (stay tuned!) I felt that whipping out a Macbook during my third-bunk-made-for-a-small-child-with-people-staring-at-me-for-40-hours-experience may be less than responsible. Anyways… a lot I have to say will be in condensed form, and probably a little scattered. So bear with me. Ok ..:::fog screen and harp playing in background:::… lets reminisce about my last days in Calcutta.
Two of my practice lessons were in an all boys government school. Now, my very first practice class in the all girls government school had a class size of 60 and it went wonderfully--they were well behaved, eager to learn, and just stinkin' adorable. The boys were 10-12 years-old and holy guacamole (man i miss guacamole), these kids were CRAZY!!! On our first day at this all boys government school, all six of us teachers walked out pretty much drooling and giggling, like we'd been shot with a taser gun. The boys were rambunctious, loud, bouncing off the walls, pinching, touching, laughing, shouting, jumping, throwing… "class control" on our evaluation sheets became irrelevant. You have to laugh because when we arrived in pairs to each classroom, the teachers dipped out and were nowhere to be seen until we found them in the office after our lessons, lounging and chatting with tea. At that point we understood why they left so abruptly when we arrived…"yes! break from hell!!!" Haha! Anyways, boys will be boys and the next day we taught there the lessons went much smoother and they behaved better--they were able to repeat some vocab (despite the fact that our prepared lessons were definitely more advanced than the language level of the children…ATI required that we do 5 different lessons of all levels; however, the classes we were given did not always match the levels of the kids so that made it a bit difficult)… I think the combination of the fact that we served as "substitutes" for the days (oh and we all know how we've treated substitutes), and the fact that we are strange white people with funny accents probably got them jostled into an excessive form of excitement. It was an experience to say the least. On a personal level, I felt more comfortable and confident as the week went on, and my last lesson seemed just like another class for me! I loved every minute!
I have to mention that at every school we went to, all the kids were jumping out of their skin saying "Hello!" "Nice to meet you!" "signacha?? pleeeease!?!?" They all wanted our signature/autograph and/or to shake hands with us when we left. We felt like celebrities! My classmate, Matt, said, "I don't think I've ever gotten that excited about another human being before!" Haha, I have to agree with that. We enjoyed it while it lasted.
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