Dec 15, Wednesday
6:30 am
Sometimes I have to remind myself that I am in India--not in the frantic babox moments, nor in the blood pressure raising TII times; but in the breathtaking moments where I inhale the thick spiced air, feel the smooth palm shade breeze against my skin, or look into rising fireball setting upon a silhouetted horizon of palm trees. It is in these moments that I beam in realization that I am living my dream. It seems like just yesterday I was in college fidgeting violently at the sheer utterance of leaving the country; and since my graduation one year ago, I have mazed through a labyrinth of twists and turns to end up sitting at this table, staring out at the dawning florescent orb creeping above the Keralan horizon. In high school and college, I had always taken every opportunity to go to Nicaragua to spend as much time outside the American bubble as possible. I have itched and rambled about my 'epic peace out'--to go somewhere for a long time--to friends and family since the very day in which that travel bug gave me my own pair of wings. Here I am now, waking up in in a subcontinent halfway around the world, and its real.
The past three months at RIMS have been phenomenal. I have learned infinite amounts about culture, teaching, friendship, children, and myself. Yesterday after school, the teachers threw a celebration where each individual stood up and told something about her experience with us. One even sang us a Hindi song that portrayed the idea that "even if you are gone, the memories will stay." They presented Colleen and I with plaques and watches as gifts. I could not even begin to express how thankful I am for their hospitality, kindness, patience, and,(yes) curiosity. It is the curiosity on both sides that bridged the cultural gap between two American women and a team of Indian teachers. I am forever changed for it. Several of the teachers yesterday even said that their perceptions of Americans have changed to a more positive image of friendly, helpful, and dependable people. I feel proud to have represented my country positively and honored to say that I worked at this institution. They truly are a wholesome, passionate bunch of teachers.
Not only have I learned from peers at RIMS, but from every child as well. It blows my mind how one simple thought from a child can sweep me away in a wave of wisdom. Yesterday first standard Shahezba fell down and skinned her knee. Another first standard girl and myself led a sniffling Shahezba to the sink to wash her face. Aneeka, (the most precious pig-tailed 6 year-old) helps splash water on Shahezba's face and knee and tells her, "When you fall down you are growing up. Don't cry." Shahezba wobbled her head in a nob, wiped her tears, and they skipped off to play. I will forever remember these words of wisdom from Aneeka.
Its about time that I leave for school, on my last day as an official teacher of RIMS. I will relish every second of today and immerse myself in the typical frenzy of skips, games, and songs. Colleen and I have set the children up with new songs and skits, and passed the baton over to the teachers. I have my second standard singing "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley, and third standard boys performing my favorite childhood story, "The Grouchy Ladybug." I know they'll do a spectacular job. And while I want nothing more than to squeeze each and every child goodbye as I leave campus for the last time, I truly hope that I can glide past the gate with a smile and wave, and slip into the swirling dust upon the bustling street.
This is not the end of the story, but the beginning of a new chapter in my life. In fact, when I read storybooks as a child, I would always instruct my mother when it was time to "turn the page." So, while it will be excruciating to walk away from the 'Summer mam!"s echoing from those chocolate eyed angels, I will just have to listen to the little blond who remains in the crowd, saying "turn the page, Summer. Turn the page."
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
"napping 'neath the day palm shade of the blue skies of India"
Dec 11, Saturday
9:30 am
The crowd of twinkling jewels, candles, and golden smiles spins around the center of the temple. The procession of golden clad elephants, drummers, musicians, and tikku-ed people swirl around the center to replicate the anatomy of an atom. This analogy was provided to me by a very kind individual, and it was a much more detailed explanation than I had anticipated. The center shrine that holds the idol is considered the nucleus of the atom, containing the protons and neutrons. The man explained that the procession of people act as the electrons, and must orbit the center three times (then they add another elephant and do it again) to positively charge the nucleus. The nucleus will then radiate positive energy to all those within the temple walls. I'm not sure if it was the positive atom charge, the fifteen elephants, or thousands of people celebrating together amidst a see of twinkling lights that had me bursting with excitement. It was phenomenal.
We had just arrived to Kochi, Kerala, late last night, and already this festive evening made the six and a half hour train ride seem like days ago. In fact, one week ago we were hanging out in Kozhikode, or Calicut, with Jenna and Kyle. We made plans to meet up with them since they now teach a few hours south in Tirur. While Calicut wasn't too hoppin' with excitement, spending time with our ATI buddies made it a great weekend. We toured around the typical shopping areas, got hassled in the street by some man with some serious volume control issues (he kept screaming about the Fonda family), and hit up the beach where our agents apparently set up another surprise photo shoot. All of us have experienced the paparazzi here, but this time at the beach we literally had a semicircle of people crowded around us snapping pics.
Anyways, we met a friend in Calicut who suggested Beena Homestay in Kochi. This place was like living with an Indian family! Beena and her husband are like your Indian parents, their puppy-eyed adorable granddaughter, Krishna is your little sister, and you live in a quiet (you can't hear any cars!) neighborhood in Fort Cochin. A delicious breakfast and dinner are (cooked by her husband!) served as part of the $10 bucks a night charge--the food was phenomenal, fresh, and legit Indian home-cookin'.
On Saturday we got a rickshaw driver to show us all around Fort Cochin. We visited several historic churches created by the Portuguese--these churches reminded me a lot of the ones I've seen in Granada, Nicaragua with their colorful interiors, decorative statues, and elaborate altars---no doubt the similarity in structure and appearance derives from Iberian colonists. The St. Francis church is the oldest church in India, and holds the grave of Vasgo de Gama! Not only could I stand at the altar of a church that these early colonists prayed in hundreds of years ago, but I could stand over the gravestone of one of the fathers of traveling! Ah!
Our friendly rickshaw driver, Ashraf, left no site or shop to mystery as he hauled us to every nook and cranny of Fort Cochin. I loved seeing the local spice market where I was able to try a hodge podge of different teas and spiced items. (Dad--you would have loved this place! I took a picture for you :-) I think you would love the masala tea.) The spices are for sale in the upstairs area, and downstairs is a huge limestone courtyard of sorts with big warehouse rooms lining the sides. We watched women sift black pepper into a giant mound, and took a gander at the limestone baths in which they soak ginger before setting it out to dry. Ashraf also took us to some shops where he no doubt received commission for any purchases we made. Colleen and I have gotten quite used to people trying to take advantage of us; and something just seemed different about Ashraf and his eagerness not only to show us around his town proudly, but to take us to the tourist area and say "just look, don't buy…expensive" and then to a local shop to buy any goodies. I would like to thank Ashraf for helping crack off some of the hardened shell thats calcified around me as a result of being taken advantage of on a daily basis. Robin--our new South African friend exploring with us--and I inquired about the commission that Ashraf received for our purchases at the shops. He explained that the 2% he received helps pay for his children's school. He beamed with a smile to see Colleen and I walk out with shopping bags and exclaimed, "I can get their books!" His honesty was heart-warming and refreshing.
My face hit the pillow with a PLOP of coconut cannonball, only to be aroused the next morning to the sweet aroma of freshly sliced fruit, steaming idli, chutney, and sambar. This day would be even more fun filled as we were about to embark on the Kerala famous backwaters tour! While this was probably the most touristy thing we have done since arriving to India, who could resist floating on a houseboat through sparkling waters and palmed islands, get a crash course on ayurvedic plants (I ate a cinnamon leaf!), hop on a canoe thru the tiny shaded canals thru a local village, with lunch, pick-up and drop off included all for eleven bucks?! It was also our first 'real' encounter with the tourist crowd, and we had the pleasure of sitting alongside peeps from Canada, England, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Finland, Denmark, and India. I felt as bad-ass as Anthony Bourdain in his Kerala episode, sitting in the sunlight on a houseboat, sipping fermented coconut water (which later turns to "Toddy"), and picking at freshly prepared seafood. While I loved sitting up front in the houseboat, with my feet dangling over the edge while I waved at passing fishermen, I'd say that I mostly enjoyed meandering thru the tiny backwater canal. The long canoe rocked through a sea of lily pads and mosses stretching over the banks. Saturated hues of green blanket the thick, humid air. Sunlight trickled through the trees and sparkled along the water ripples. I have expected fairies to flutter out from behind the tall grasses and place a crown of lilies on my head.
Women slap their laundry in the dark water while children scampered along the riverbank calling out to us curiously. This teeny shaded village is just one of the many treasures tucked between the palms of the backwater tropical paradise. It was a time where I feel like I experienced a secret in India.
9:30 am
The crowd of twinkling jewels, candles, and golden smiles spins around the center of the temple. The procession of golden clad elephants, drummers, musicians, and tikku-ed people swirl around the center to replicate the anatomy of an atom. This analogy was provided to me by a very kind individual, and it was a much more detailed explanation than I had anticipated. The center shrine that holds the idol is considered the nucleus of the atom, containing the protons and neutrons. The man explained that the procession of people act as the electrons, and must orbit the center three times (then they add another elephant and do it again) to positively charge the nucleus. The nucleus will then radiate positive energy to all those within the temple walls. I'm not sure if it was the positive atom charge, the fifteen elephants, or thousands of people celebrating together amidst a see of twinkling lights that had me bursting with excitement. It was phenomenal.
We had just arrived to Kochi, Kerala, late last night, and already this festive evening made the six and a half hour train ride seem like days ago. In fact, one week ago we were hanging out in Kozhikode, or Calicut, with Jenna and Kyle. We made plans to meet up with them since they now teach a few hours south in Tirur. While Calicut wasn't too hoppin' with excitement, spending time with our ATI buddies made it a great weekend. We toured around the typical shopping areas, got hassled in the street by some man with some serious volume control issues (he kept screaming about the Fonda family), and hit up the beach where our agents apparently set up another surprise photo shoot. All of us have experienced the paparazzi here, but this time at the beach we literally had a semicircle of people crowded around us snapping pics.
Anyways, we met a friend in Calicut who suggested Beena Homestay in Kochi. This place was like living with an Indian family! Beena and her husband are like your Indian parents, their puppy-eyed adorable granddaughter, Krishna is your little sister, and you live in a quiet (you can't hear any cars!) neighborhood in Fort Cochin. A delicious breakfast and dinner are (cooked by her husband!) served as part of the $10 bucks a night charge--the food was phenomenal, fresh, and legit Indian home-cookin'.
On Saturday we got a rickshaw driver to show us all around Fort Cochin. We visited several historic churches created by the Portuguese--these churches reminded me a lot of the ones I've seen in Granada, Nicaragua with their colorful interiors, decorative statues, and elaborate altars---no doubt the similarity in structure and appearance derives from Iberian colonists. The St. Francis church is the oldest church in India, and holds the grave of Vasgo de Gama! Not only could I stand at the altar of a church that these early colonists prayed in hundreds of years ago, but I could stand over the gravestone of one of the fathers of traveling! Ah!
Our friendly rickshaw driver, Ashraf, left no site or shop to mystery as he hauled us to every nook and cranny of Fort Cochin. I loved seeing the local spice market where I was able to try a hodge podge of different teas and spiced items. (Dad--you would have loved this place! I took a picture for you :-) I think you would love the masala tea.) The spices are for sale in the upstairs area, and downstairs is a huge limestone courtyard of sorts with big warehouse rooms lining the sides. We watched women sift black pepper into a giant mound, and took a gander at the limestone baths in which they soak ginger before setting it out to dry. Ashraf also took us to some shops where he no doubt received commission for any purchases we made. Colleen and I have gotten quite used to people trying to take advantage of us; and something just seemed different about Ashraf and his eagerness not only to show us around his town proudly, but to take us to the tourist area and say "just look, don't buy…expensive" and then to a local shop to buy any goodies. I would like to thank Ashraf for helping crack off some of the hardened shell thats calcified around me as a result of being taken advantage of on a daily basis. Robin--our new South African friend exploring with us--and I inquired about the commission that Ashraf received for our purchases at the shops. He explained that the 2% he received helps pay for his children's school. He beamed with a smile to see Colleen and I walk out with shopping bags and exclaimed, "I can get their books!" His honesty was heart-warming and refreshing.
My face hit the pillow with a PLOP of coconut cannonball, only to be aroused the next morning to the sweet aroma of freshly sliced fruit, steaming idli, chutney, and sambar. This day would be even more fun filled as we were about to embark on the Kerala famous backwaters tour! While this was probably the most touristy thing we have done since arriving to India, who could resist floating on a houseboat through sparkling waters and palmed islands, get a crash course on ayurvedic plants (I ate a cinnamon leaf!), hop on a canoe thru the tiny shaded canals thru a local village, with lunch, pick-up and drop off included all for eleven bucks?! It was also our first 'real' encounter with the tourist crowd, and we had the pleasure of sitting alongside peeps from Canada, England, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Finland, Denmark, and India. I felt as bad-ass as Anthony Bourdain in his Kerala episode, sitting in the sunlight on a houseboat, sipping fermented coconut water (which later turns to "Toddy"), and picking at freshly prepared seafood. While I loved sitting up front in the houseboat, with my feet dangling over the edge while I waved at passing fishermen, I'd say that I mostly enjoyed meandering thru the tiny backwater canal. The long canoe rocked through a sea of lily pads and mosses stretching over the banks. Saturated hues of green blanket the thick, humid air. Sunlight trickled through the trees and sparkled along the water ripples. I have expected fairies to flutter out from behind the tall grasses and place a crown of lilies on my head.
Women slap their laundry in the dark water while children scampered along the riverbank calling out to us curiously. This teeny shaded village is just one of the many treasures tucked between the palms of the backwater tropical paradise. It was a time where I feel like I experienced a secret in India.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Elephants!
November 23, Tuesday
6 pm
We left the pouring rain in Bangalore and hopped on the rickety bus to Mysore, a laid back city about three hours south. While this area would still qualify as a bustling Indian city, it held a chill vibe that may be one of many lures to hippy tourists. Mysore is famous for its silks, ayurvedic oils, and incense. Sumleen arrived to our $2 a night hostel on Thursday evening and awoke early Friday for a fun-filled Mysore day. At breakfast we met a German dude who is traveling around until he has to return to Bangalore for a masters in math. We agreed to meet up later to visit the palace and zoo; and in the meantime Sumleen set out for some adventure. Mysore's streets were filled with the typical rickshaws, street vendors, colorful saris, and uniform clad children; however, nothing could beat the crisp, cool mountain air surrounding us. There wasn't much more than hills surrounding us, but thanks to the higher altitude, the climate was not only bearable, but pleasant. It was a wonderful break from the sweltering Kannur oven we are used to.
In route to the old market, a guy overheard me talking to Colleen about its location and offered to take us there. He is currently in university studying linguistics and was more than happy to practice his English with us. He ended up spending the morning with us, taking us to various shops to see the making and uses of beedis, incense, and various Ayurvedic oils. Colleen and I selected our all-natural ammo, water lily oil, against the army of mosquitos that plagues us in our sleep. The man we purchased this from was very informative and eager to share the purpose of each oil to us--whether he was being a good salesman or just plain excited to share I'm not sure. We did, however, make a quick exit when post-water lily purchase he started explaining how he imports illicit substances to America. K thanks for the water lily, uh bye! Before we knew it, we were in the basement of some other shop with another very enthusiastic persian rug salesman. This guy was good, and we assured him that if we 1. had the money to purchase one, and 2. actually had a home to put it in, we would purchase a masterpiece in a heartbeat. These rugs really were breath taking, and it was fascinating to see how each one was created by hand, tying silk knots one by one. One large rug can take two years to make, and probably causes some serious carpal tunnel.
While watching our persian rug friend spin the carpets around on the floor to show how the rug changes color with each angle, we realized It was already one o'clock and Sumleen had to meet our Deutsch amigo. We weren't sure if the guy showing us around would ask us for money (he met us completely by chance) before we dipped; and to our slight surprise, he didn't. I felt awful for having the notion even cross my head, but things like this happen quite a bit. When he put us in a rickshaw and waved goodbye, I pinched myself for almost assuming that this guy was nothing short of a friendly dude just trying to show some hospitality and practice some English. Even if the vendors were all his friends, good! They were good people and provided a much less stressful experience than lets say, Kolkata.
The palace was ginormous! It towered above us with decorative twisty turquoise pillars, and frilly golden arches leading inside. The only thing that took away from the authenticity was the mass of Indians tourists, and a couple hundred rupee charge difference for westerners. Determined to dive inside this Aladdin fairytale, the Sumleen Deutsch trio joined the crowd, tickets clutched in hand, and practically "moo"-ed as we were all herded inside. Elaborate paintings of historical Indian armies, elephants, rulers, and Hindu gods decorated the walls that lead to a central room fit for a ball. Speckles of colored sunlight danced upon the floor. The turquoise pillars encompassing the sparkling center lead up to a spectacular stained-glass skylight. This ceiling could probably cover most of my home. Peacocks, trees, profiles and swirls collided all throughout the circular masterpiece and boasted the bright spectrum of colors that reflect down upon the intricately tiled floor. Its amazing how this place was created---every nook and cranny was intricately detailed, carved, painted, or etched with some purposeful symbol, god, or figure. I also found it fascinating that regardless of the fact that this was a palace for a ruling Muslim, there were tons of references to Hindu gods. Inside the palace walls, there were also several Hindu temples. Aside from the stained glass, I was most impressed with a 10 foot dark wooden door with tiny in-laid designs using mango and ginger root to honor Ganesha.
Speaking of elephants, we had heard from our friend in the morning that the palace had elephants that day. Thats one way to get my attention. "Elephants?!" I'd inquire eagerly to officials. Each pointed in a general direction towards the center courtyard of the palace and temples. Sure enough, sitting on a grassy knoll in the center were two camels and two elephants. AH! I revert back to five-years-old and scamper off to play with the wild beasts. Some are saddled up and walking around with tourists on their backs so the Sumleen Duetsch trio had a grand time making faces and talking to the very cranky looking "off-duty" camel. We also got to see the elephants up close and personal by giving them a rupee--they take it with their trunk, give it to the man on their back, and then lightly touch us on the head to 'bless us'. While quite the tourist stunt, I ate up every second!
I got to see more elephants, of both Indian and African nature, at the Mysore zoo. It turned out to be a lot bigger than we imagined, and while it was exciting to see all sorts of animals, this zoo was nothing short of depressing as every animals 'home' was barely enough space to pace back and forth and stare back at the faces looking in. I was thrilled to see the tigers, but more upset that they were crammed into an area smaller than the elephants' and camels' grassy knoll at the palace. I come upon the wolf exhibit and read the sign, "The wolf is a highly social animal and travels in packs of six to twelve." I look into the mini arena and see two nervous dogs pacing around. Yeah, I don't feel great about that zoo. On a lighter note, I also wondered who was really the exhibit as the white trio was getting asked left and right to get pictures taken with EVERYONE. I have become used being a spectacle as men, women, elderly, and children alike approach and ask to have their picture taken with me. Its typically fine until its every couple minutes and I forget where I am and what I'm doing because I'm getting bombarded by sketchy high school boys or having children shoved at me by parents. It is kind of cool that I'm circling family albums across the subcontinent.
All elephant expectation had been exceeded and I contently gazed out the bus window on the long, rickety ride home to Kannur. I became used to watching wild monkeys scamper about on the roadsides, and seeing the lush green canopy of palm trees stretch back to the fading rolling hills. I put my ipod on John Butler Trio's "Under and Indian Sky" and…. elephant! "ELEPHANT!" I yell loud enough to alert anyone within five rows of me. "ELEPHANT!" I shake Colleen violently but turn her around a second too late as we had already zoomed by. Lots of people give me odd glances, like, "yeah, we have those here." I didn't care. I was beaming from inside out. I had seen a wild elephant in his natural habitat and didn't care who knew it!
6 pm
We left the pouring rain in Bangalore and hopped on the rickety bus to Mysore, a laid back city about three hours south. While this area would still qualify as a bustling Indian city, it held a chill vibe that may be one of many lures to hippy tourists. Mysore is famous for its silks, ayurvedic oils, and incense. Sumleen arrived to our $2 a night hostel on Thursday evening and awoke early Friday for a fun-filled Mysore day. At breakfast we met a German dude who is traveling around until he has to return to Bangalore for a masters in math. We agreed to meet up later to visit the palace and zoo; and in the meantime Sumleen set out for some adventure. Mysore's streets were filled with the typical rickshaws, street vendors, colorful saris, and uniform clad children; however, nothing could beat the crisp, cool mountain air surrounding us. There wasn't much more than hills surrounding us, but thanks to the higher altitude, the climate was not only bearable, but pleasant. It was a wonderful break from the sweltering Kannur oven we are used to.
In route to the old market, a guy overheard me talking to Colleen about its location and offered to take us there. He is currently in university studying linguistics and was more than happy to practice his English with us. He ended up spending the morning with us, taking us to various shops to see the making and uses of beedis, incense, and various Ayurvedic oils. Colleen and I selected our all-natural ammo, water lily oil, against the army of mosquitos that plagues us in our sleep. The man we purchased this from was very informative and eager to share the purpose of each oil to us--whether he was being a good salesman or just plain excited to share I'm not sure. We did, however, make a quick exit when post-water lily purchase he started explaining how he imports illicit substances to America. K thanks for the water lily, uh bye! Before we knew it, we were in the basement of some other shop with another very enthusiastic persian rug salesman. This guy was good, and we assured him that if we 1. had the money to purchase one, and 2. actually had a home to put it in, we would purchase a masterpiece in a heartbeat. These rugs really were breath taking, and it was fascinating to see how each one was created by hand, tying silk knots one by one. One large rug can take two years to make, and probably causes some serious carpal tunnel.
While watching our persian rug friend spin the carpets around on the floor to show how the rug changes color with each angle, we realized It was already one o'clock and Sumleen had to meet our Deutsch amigo. We weren't sure if the guy showing us around would ask us for money (he met us completely by chance) before we dipped; and to our slight surprise, he didn't. I felt awful for having the notion even cross my head, but things like this happen quite a bit. When he put us in a rickshaw and waved goodbye, I pinched myself for almost assuming that this guy was nothing short of a friendly dude just trying to show some hospitality and practice some English. Even if the vendors were all his friends, good! They were good people and provided a much less stressful experience than lets say, Kolkata.
The palace was ginormous! It towered above us with decorative twisty turquoise pillars, and frilly golden arches leading inside. The only thing that took away from the authenticity was the mass of Indians tourists, and a couple hundred rupee charge difference for westerners. Determined to dive inside this Aladdin fairytale, the Sumleen Deutsch trio joined the crowd, tickets clutched in hand, and practically "moo"-ed as we were all herded inside. Elaborate paintings of historical Indian armies, elephants, rulers, and Hindu gods decorated the walls that lead to a central room fit for a ball. Speckles of colored sunlight danced upon the floor. The turquoise pillars encompassing the sparkling center lead up to a spectacular stained-glass skylight. This ceiling could probably cover most of my home. Peacocks, trees, profiles and swirls collided all throughout the circular masterpiece and boasted the bright spectrum of colors that reflect down upon the intricately tiled floor. Its amazing how this place was created---every nook and cranny was intricately detailed, carved, painted, or etched with some purposeful symbol, god, or figure. I also found it fascinating that regardless of the fact that this was a palace for a ruling Muslim, there were tons of references to Hindu gods. Inside the palace walls, there were also several Hindu temples. Aside from the stained glass, I was most impressed with a 10 foot dark wooden door with tiny in-laid designs using mango and ginger root to honor Ganesha.
Speaking of elephants, we had heard from our friend in the morning that the palace had elephants that day. Thats one way to get my attention. "Elephants?!" I'd inquire eagerly to officials. Each pointed in a general direction towards the center courtyard of the palace and temples. Sure enough, sitting on a grassy knoll in the center were two camels and two elephants. AH! I revert back to five-years-old and scamper off to play with the wild beasts. Some are saddled up and walking around with tourists on their backs so the Sumleen Duetsch trio had a grand time making faces and talking to the very cranky looking "off-duty" camel. We also got to see the elephants up close and personal by giving them a rupee--they take it with their trunk, give it to the man on their back, and then lightly touch us on the head to 'bless us'. While quite the tourist stunt, I ate up every second!
I got to see more elephants, of both Indian and African nature, at the Mysore zoo. It turned out to be a lot bigger than we imagined, and while it was exciting to see all sorts of animals, this zoo was nothing short of depressing as every animals 'home' was barely enough space to pace back and forth and stare back at the faces looking in. I was thrilled to see the tigers, but more upset that they were crammed into an area smaller than the elephants' and camels' grassy knoll at the palace. I come upon the wolf exhibit and read the sign, "The wolf is a highly social animal and travels in packs of six to twelve." I look into the mini arena and see two nervous dogs pacing around. Yeah, I don't feel great about that zoo. On a lighter note, I also wondered who was really the exhibit as the white trio was getting asked left and right to get pictures taken with EVERYONE. I have become used being a spectacle as men, women, elderly, and children alike approach and ask to have their picture taken with me. Its typically fine until its every couple minutes and I forget where I am and what I'm doing because I'm getting bombarded by sketchy high school boys or having children shoved at me by parents. It is kind of cool that I'm circling family albums across the subcontinent.
All elephant expectation had been exceeded and I contently gazed out the bus window on the long, rickety ride home to Kannur. I became used to watching wild monkeys scamper about on the roadsides, and seeing the lush green canopy of palm trees stretch back to the fading rolling hills. I put my ipod on John Butler Trio's "Under and Indian Sky" and…. elephant! "ELEPHANT!" I yell loud enough to alert anyone within five rows of me. "ELEPHANT!" I shake Colleen violently but turn her around a second too late as we had already zoomed by. Lots of people give me odd glances, like, "yeah, we have those here." I didn't care. I was beaming from inside out. I had seen a wild elephant in his natural habitat and didn't care who knew it!
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