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!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Western Invasion
November 23, Tuesday
6 am
I woke up with six mosquito bites on my face. Eniku iddi ishtamailla.
Children's Day last week was a great success. The program lasted around 4 hours; and while the crowd was slightly less than cooperative--chattering, standing, sitting, coming and going-- nothing stunted our beaming proud smiles as the kids performed. As the program ended, we congratulated the children on a job well done and scampered down the dirt road in our lovely red sari (Colleen), and princess Jasmine-like salwaar (Summer) to begin packing for a much needed vacation to Bangalore. We arrive to the flat drenched and drained only to find that the power is out…again. The only remedy for the sweltering heat, sheer exhaustion, and fan-less flat was to strip down to our skivvies and collapse like gumbies to the cool tile floors. Our much needed floor naps ended and sparked a spastic-excited Sumleen packin' and shakin' to club music until we had to leave around 7:30 pm. We hopped onto our overnight bus, giggling with excitement, and headed up the winding road to Bangalore.
The reason the trip to Bangalore sparked in the first place was due to Sir's request that we observe at some developed Montessori schools. RIMS is hosting a Montessori Teacher Training Program, and the educator is a woman who runs a M school in Bangalore. Munira helped set us up with accommodation and observation times at her school. She also surprised us by providing us drivers to take us around Bangalore. I was very impressed at the YWCA at which we stayed, as it had comfy beds, hot water, and a bad-ass mamma who ran the joint. This white-haired, furrow-browed, sari-clad woman could star in the Bollywood rendition of Diary of a Mad Black Woman--she takes no prisoners when it comes to "her girls." She declared to us that no man has ever set foot in the building, and she has no fear in taking necessary measures to deal with any intruders. After holding out her thumb to show that she has never told a lie in her life (I think straight thumb = truth teller?) this Auntie gave us the low down on how she runs the place. "I keep gun in my sari," she exclaimed, and rolled on with a story of a maid seeing it under her pillow, officials receiving complaint calls and holding a meeting to fix this issue. When she was asked to remove the gun from her sari and place it on the table, the officials quickly realized that the pistol was, in fact, a plastic toy gun. Colleen and I just smiled and head wobbled as old auntie shook her finger at us and swore by this toy gun bluff. We scuttled up to our room in hopes that she wasn't packing anything serious in that sari of hers.
Bangalore is a swirly blend of New York City shopping, Calcutta crowds and craze, mountain fresh air, and hipster streets of Chicago. Business suits and briefcases rule this computer geek metropolis as it is the IT hub of India. You may very well have spoken to someone in Bangalore when calling a customer service number in the past. Streets are lined with shopping mall windows decorated with skinny-jeaned mannequins, fast food McDonalds, Taco Bells, and KFCs bragging western grub in gaudy, red and yellow signs. Tank-topped super model types float across the bustling streets, and screen-tee and tight jean clad characters smoke cigs on the corners. While I normally dislike western invasions like this, there was something unique about the hodge podge of cultures bubbling in Bangalore. There was certainly no shortage of vendors, saris, rickshaws, and spicy street food--the vibe was both invigorating and relaxing.
The cultural diversity of Bangalore was evident--no one stares at the fair-skinned as tourists and locals come in all colors in this metropolitan city. Even the Montessori school, Little Feat, had only about 15% of born and raised Bangalorians. Little Feat was remarkable and quite the model Montessori school. You pass the gleaming jungle gym, remove your chappals, and enter into two stories of ten beautiful, clean, colorful environments. Children atop floor mats trace sandpaper letters, build geometric towers, and finagle intricate puzzles into place. These kids are reading at age 3 and can add, subtract, and multiply by the time they graduate to first standard. We observed on Monday and Tuesday to learn more about the Montessori presentation and learning. I was elated to participate in circle singing time (thats my favorite at RIMS) and teach them a few of my stand-by songs. Thank you Mrs. Joy, my third grade teacher, for teaching that silly version of Singing in the Rain, as it is now being spread across India--the kids love it! The more exposure I have to both the Montessori method and its results, the more interested I become. Who knows, maybe the non-profit I open for Latin American street kids could involve some Montessori!
Wednesday was a holiday for Muslims, Eid. The holiday is celebrated by fasting for a few days and then the third day one sacrifices a goat for every member of the family, and giving the meat to a family in need. Times have changed, and while many families still slaughter the animals to give, others elect to just give an equivalent in a monetary donation. Just like any holiday, it is a festive time where everyone dresses up, spends time with family, and eats way too much food. Noor and her mother (our flat roomies) visited Bangalore this past week as well to celebrate the holiday with all their family and invited us to join them to meet the whole gang. Colleen and I did not go for the 'official' holiday meal, but spent the evening with the giant family. Noor is the youngest of eleven children, and while I swear that I met close to thirty new faces while being stuffed with delicious biriyani, chicken, gulab jamun, and other interesting concoctions, she claims that we only met TWO of the siblings' families. At her sister's house, we were peppered with questions by inquisitive uncles, aunts, and cousins. The questions came in order as always: "how many brothers?" "how many sisters?" "what? you both are the only one?" "are all Americans that tall?" Colleen and I are a interesting representation of America as we both come from 3 person families and tower over India at just under six feet. Then the inevitable cluster of "how old are you?" (Summer 23, Colleen 24)…"married?" …"no"… "why?"… I always say, "why not?"… then the uncle shows no effort in holding back a grimace at the sheer impossibility for a woman to marry at the decrepit age of 23. Sorry buddy, I got places to go and people to see. Noor helped explain that in America, its perfectly normal to get married at any age, even after…..oh my god… 30! These discussions always seem to end in a laugh at the physical and cultural differences and a jovial joke at Colleen or I running into a door frame, or the fact that we probably should look for love somewhere besides India. Everyone was so kind and welcoming I felt like I was celebrating a holiday with family. Two of the younger girls presented Colleen and I with salwaar fabric and jasmine flowers at the end of the evening--a gesture that still chokes me up. We have never met, or ever talked to Noor's sister, and yet we are greeted with warm hands and kind smiles. It was touching, and in all honesty, made me miss my family and friends more than anything.
After observing at the school, eating western food (I had my first giant salad in months!), strolling thru the botanical gardens, and celebrating a holiday, we were about ready to head back home. However, thanks to the randomness of India, we received a call from Aaliya that we didn't have to be home until next MONDAY! So we hopscotched and scidaddled on down to the lovely mountain town of Mysore! stay tuned…
6 am
I woke up with six mosquito bites on my face. Eniku iddi ishtamailla.
Children's Day last week was a great success. The program lasted around 4 hours; and while the crowd was slightly less than cooperative--chattering, standing, sitting, coming and going-- nothing stunted our beaming proud smiles as the kids performed. As the program ended, we congratulated the children on a job well done and scampered down the dirt road in our lovely red sari (Colleen), and princess Jasmine-like salwaar (Summer) to begin packing for a much needed vacation to Bangalore. We arrive to the flat drenched and drained only to find that the power is out…again. The only remedy for the sweltering heat, sheer exhaustion, and fan-less flat was to strip down to our skivvies and collapse like gumbies to the cool tile floors. Our much needed floor naps ended and sparked a spastic-excited Sumleen packin' and shakin' to club music until we had to leave around 7:30 pm. We hopped onto our overnight bus, giggling with excitement, and headed up the winding road to Bangalore.
The reason the trip to Bangalore sparked in the first place was due to Sir's request that we observe at some developed Montessori schools. RIMS is hosting a Montessori Teacher Training Program, and the educator is a woman who runs a M school in Bangalore. Munira helped set us up with accommodation and observation times at her school. She also surprised us by providing us drivers to take us around Bangalore. I was very impressed at the YWCA at which we stayed, as it had comfy beds, hot water, and a bad-ass mamma who ran the joint. This white-haired, furrow-browed, sari-clad woman could star in the Bollywood rendition of Diary of a Mad Black Woman--she takes no prisoners when it comes to "her girls." She declared to us that no man has ever set foot in the building, and she has no fear in taking necessary measures to deal with any intruders. After holding out her thumb to show that she has never told a lie in her life (I think straight thumb = truth teller?) this Auntie gave us the low down on how she runs the place. "I keep gun in my sari," she exclaimed, and rolled on with a story of a maid seeing it under her pillow, officials receiving complaint calls and holding a meeting to fix this issue. When she was asked to remove the gun from her sari and place it on the table, the officials quickly realized that the pistol was, in fact, a plastic toy gun. Colleen and I just smiled and head wobbled as old auntie shook her finger at us and swore by this toy gun bluff. We scuttled up to our room in hopes that she wasn't packing anything serious in that sari of hers.
Bangalore is a swirly blend of New York City shopping, Calcutta crowds and craze, mountain fresh air, and hipster streets of Chicago. Business suits and briefcases rule this computer geek metropolis as it is the IT hub of India. You may very well have spoken to someone in Bangalore when calling a customer service number in the past. Streets are lined with shopping mall windows decorated with skinny-jeaned mannequins, fast food McDonalds, Taco Bells, and KFCs bragging western grub in gaudy, red and yellow signs. Tank-topped super model types float across the bustling streets, and screen-tee and tight jean clad characters smoke cigs on the corners. While I normally dislike western invasions like this, there was something unique about the hodge podge of cultures bubbling in Bangalore. There was certainly no shortage of vendors, saris, rickshaws, and spicy street food--the vibe was both invigorating and relaxing.
The cultural diversity of Bangalore was evident--no one stares at the fair-skinned as tourists and locals come in all colors in this metropolitan city. Even the Montessori school, Little Feat, had only about 15% of born and raised Bangalorians. Little Feat was remarkable and quite the model Montessori school. You pass the gleaming jungle gym, remove your chappals, and enter into two stories of ten beautiful, clean, colorful environments. Children atop floor mats trace sandpaper letters, build geometric towers, and finagle intricate puzzles into place. These kids are reading at age 3 and can add, subtract, and multiply by the time they graduate to first standard. We observed on Monday and Tuesday to learn more about the Montessori presentation and learning. I was elated to participate in circle singing time (thats my favorite at RIMS) and teach them a few of my stand-by songs. Thank you Mrs. Joy, my third grade teacher, for teaching that silly version of Singing in the Rain, as it is now being spread across India--the kids love it! The more exposure I have to both the Montessori method and its results, the more interested I become. Who knows, maybe the non-profit I open for Latin American street kids could involve some Montessori!
Wednesday was a holiday for Muslims, Eid. The holiday is celebrated by fasting for a few days and then the third day one sacrifices a goat for every member of the family, and giving the meat to a family in need. Times have changed, and while many families still slaughter the animals to give, others elect to just give an equivalent in a monetary donation. Just like any holiday, it is a festive time where everyone dresses up, spends time with family, and eats way too much food. Noor and her mother (our flat roomies) visited Bangalore this past week as well to celebrate the holiday with all their family and invited us to join them to meet the whole gang. Colleen and I did not go for the 'official' holiday meal, but spent the evening with the giant family. Noor is the youngest of eleven children, and while I swear that I met close to thirty new faces while being stuffed with delicious biriyani, chicken, gulab jamun, and other interesting concoctions, she claims that we only met TWO of the siblings' families. At her sister's house, we were peppered with questions by inquisitive uncles, aunts, and cousins. The questions came in order as always: "how many brothers?" "how many sisters?" "what? you both are the only one?" "are all Americans that tall?" Colleen and I are a interesting representation of America as we both come from 3 person families and tower over India at just under six feet. Then the inevitable cluster of "how old are you?" (Summer 23, Colleen 24)…"married?" …"no"… "why?"… I always say, "why not?"… then the uncle shows no effort in holding back a grimace at the sheer impossibility for a woman to marry at the decrepit age of 23. Sorry buddy, I got places to go and people to see. Noor helped explain that in America, its perfectly normal to get married at any age, even after…..oh my god… 30! These discussions always seem to end in a laugh at the physical and cultural differences and a jovial joke at Colleen or I running into a door frame, or the fact that we probably should look for love somewhere besides India. Everyone was so kind and welcoming I felt like I was celebrating a holiday with family. Two of the younger girls presented Colleen and I with salwaar fabric and jasmine flowers at the end of the evening--a gesture that still chokes me up. We have never met, or ever talked to Noor's sister, and yet we are greeted with warm hands and kind smiles. It was touching, and in all honesty, made me miss my family and friends more than anything.
After observing at the school, eating western food (I had my first giant salad in months!), strolling thru the botanical gardens, and celebrating a holiday, we were about ready to head back home. However, thanks to the randomness of India, we received a call from Aaliya that we didn't have to be home until next MONDAY! So we hopscotched and scidaddled on down to the lovely mountain town of Mysore! stay tuned…
Energizer Bunnies
Sunday, Nov 14
6 am
This past week has been absolutely exhausting as we have been practicing and preparing for today's Children's Day festivities. There will be a big program at the school where the children perform all sorts of songs, skits, and recitations. I cant wait to see how my three montessori girls perform in their puppet show (they get distracted pretty easily) and how the 4-6 standard girls sing One TIn Soldier--I always get goosebumps hearing them sing it as this song's lyrics are my favorite. Colleen has the 4th standard boys doing a drama called The Farmer and the Son and it will be simply amazing. The children have never put on such a performance like this and we are so excited to see them decked out in costume performing a real drama. One of the teachers has first standard singing Doe a Deer---I figured this would excite any sister in the Ryan family haha. I was really sad that the older girls were not allowed to perform in a play, so we have them singing songs and doing recitations. Two of my fifth standard girls will recite a poem they wrote called "I am" . I hope I don't ruffle any feathers in doing this but I was so happy with their writing that I wanted them to share themselves with the audience. This whole project for November 14 seems to have cracked the kids shells a bit, let them a little more free. Lets see how it goes!
I do want to mention Sumleen's adventure yesterday. We headed to Calicut at 6:50 am for a film festival. Anis Sir had informed us that we would go to watch some movies and sit on a panel to discuss the educational implications or something of that nature. Colleen and I eagerly agreed as we love trying new things and we both really enjoy talking probably a bit too much. We squished into the general class train car and made the two hour journey to Calicut. We were greeted at the station by a smiling principal of Calicut University, Mohammed Ali, who packed us in his car, fed us egg curry, and hauled us to the film festival on campus. We arrived to a very nice seminar venue and escorted to a room where we could change from our sweaty train clothes. Dang, we were getting VIP service here! I started to worry that they thought we were more important than we really were, but before a thought could finish Sumleen was directed to the front row of the auditorium filled with teachers and students. Sir had informed us that we were to be part of the discussion, but I was already getting a feeling that we were being perceived as a bit more important than necessary. I flip to the first page of the program to see what the heck is happening (as no one really ever knows whats going on here) and see printed on the first page:
Film Anchors
Summer Ryan Dunham
Virginia Beach, USA
Colleen McKown
North Carolina, USA
"SH**!!!" I turn to Colleen… is this T-II?? Babox? I cant fit this situation into any of my Indian schemas! The program began, we were introduced to the crowd, "We have Summer Ryan Dunham and Colleen Mckown from the USA to lead our discussion on these films today." Mmmk so we are leading a discussion about the movies Dead Poet Society and Daddy Day Care. Rather than panic, we pulled out our notepads and put our movie critic caps on. Better to just accept this duty gracefully. I had never seen Dead Poet Society, so the experience was quite enjoyable. At the end of the movie Colleen and I went up to the stage and sat behind our official microphones and let the opinions roll. It was great to see the students participate in the discussion as Venugopal (a scholarly man who put us up to this. He is studying the acquisition of language in the child brain and visits RIMS often) stated that this was the first program of its kind that the students have attended. Many of the participating students expressed interest in more progressive ways of learning (like in DPS), or commented on the teacher-student relationship. Our comments and questions came to an end and we snapped some pics with some students and headed back to Kannur in the sweltering, jam packed train--first falling asleep standing up and then practicing Malayalam with a cluster of dudes.
6 am
This past week has been absolutely exhausting as we have been practicing and preparing for today's Children's Day festivities. There will be a big program at the school where the children perform all sorts of songs, skits, and recitations. I cant wait to see how my three montessori girls perform in their puppet show (they get distracted pretty easily) and how the 4-6 standard girls sing One TIn Soldier--I always get goosebumps hearing them sing it as this song's lyrics are my favorite. Colleen has the 4th standard boys doing a drama called The Farmer and the Son and it will be simply amazing. The children have never put on such a performance like this and we are so excited to see them decked out in costume performing a real drama. One of the teachers has first standard singing Doe a Deer---I figured this would excite any sister in the Ryan family haha. I was really sad that the older girls were not allowed to perform in a play, so we have them singing songs and doing recitations. Two of my fifth standard girls will recite a poem they wrote called "I am" . I hope I don't ruffle any feathers in doing this but I was so happy with their writing that I wanted them to share themselves with the audience. This whole project for November 14 seems to have cracked the kids shells a bit, let them a little more free. Lets see how it goes!
I do want to mention Sumleen's adventure yesterday. We headed to Calicut at 6:50 am for a film festival. Anis Sir had informed us that we would go to watch some movies and sit on a panel to discuss the educational implications or something of that nature. Colleen and I eagerly agreed as we love trying new things and we both really enjoy talking probably a bit too much. We squished into the general class train car and made the two hour journey to Calicut. We were greeted at the station by a smiling principal of Calicut University, Mohammed Ali, who packed us in his car, fed us egg curry, and hauled us to the film festival on campus. We arrived to a very nice seminar venue and escorted to a room where we could change from our sweaty train clothes. Dang, we were getting VIP service here! I started to worry that they thought we were more important than we really were, but before a thought could finish Sumleen was directed to the front row of the auditorium filled with teachers and students. Sir had informed us that we were to be part of the discussion, but I was already getting a feeling that we were being perceived as a bit more important than necessary. I flip to the first page of the program to see what the heck is happening (as no one really ever knows whats going on here) and see printed on the first page:
Film Anchors
Summer Ryan Dunham
Virginia Beach, USA
Colleen McKown
North Carolina, USA
"SH**!!!" I turn to Colleen… is this T-II?? Babox? I cant fit this situation into any of my Indian schemas! The program began, we were introduced to the crowd, "We have Summer Ryan Dunham and Colleen Mckown from the USA to lead our discussion on these films today." Mmmk so we are leading a discussion about the movies Dead Poet Society and Daddy Day Care. Rather than panic, we pulled out our notepads and put our movie critic caps on. Better to just accept this duty gracefully. I had never seen Dead Poet Society, so the experience was quite enjoyable. At the end of the movie Colleen and I went up to the stage and sat behind our official microphones and let the opinions roll. It was great to see the students participate in the discussion as Venugopal (a scholarly man who put us up to this. He is studying the acquisition of language in the child brain and visits RIMS often) stated that this was the first program of its kind that the students have attended. Many of the participating students expressed interest in more progressive ways of learning (like in DPS), or commented on the teacher-student relationship. Our comments and questions came to an end and we snapped some pics with some students and headed back to Kannur in the sweltering, jam packed train--first falling asleep standing up and then practicing Malayalam with a cluster of dudes.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Jumbo Circus
Tuesday, November 9
9:30 pm
Ticket to the Jumbo Circus-- Rs 40 (90 cents)
Ice cream and popcorn-- Rs 40
Seeing acrobats, bendy woman, frolicking camels, ripped African men making pyramids in their underwear, hula hoop woman, and an elephant playing cricket….in INDIA ---priceless!
9:30 pm
Ticket to the Jumbo Circus-- Rs 40 (90 cents)
Ice cream and popcorn-- Rs 40
Seeing acrobats, bendy woman, frolicking camels, ripped African men making pyramids in their underwear, hula hoop woman, and an elephant playing cricket….in INDIA ---priceless!
India Theme Park
Monday, November 8
Holy crap a gazillion things happen and a week flies by without any blogging! Maybe I could turn this blog into some reality show where I leave you dangling by a thread each week, "stay tuned for Frolic sin Fronteras, summer season 1." Get it? Summer season? baha! I'd like to thank Barb Ryan for my pun skills, and the honking motor vehicles outside my window for sleep deprivation.
I'll start by explaining "babox" like I promised last entry. There are many occasions where Colleen and I will find a situation completely normal until one reminds the other of how extremely strange, awkward, hilarious, or foreign the situation really is. Now we use "T-II" when we encounter something that we have only seen in India, and it typically refers to one individual thing. Example: I see a man on a motorcycle, steering with one hand, rolled up mattress in a one arm bear hug. I would say 'babox' when referring to an entire situation. Stating 'babox' calls attention to the situation so that both Americans can take a step outside the box and glance in at the absurdity of their lives at that moment. Example: Summer and Colleen get on the Disco Spin (equivalent of the 'merry mixer') at the local theme park in Kannur. Summer says, "babox" and instantly both Americans freeze the situation at hand and take a gander at whats happening. We are on a sketchy carnival-like ride, listening to Indian techno, barefoot, soaking wet pants and long shirts, and watching a mother and her baby no more than 1 spin around in the car next to us…..oh and the baby is laughing and clapping to the techno beat. Yeah thats cool…. wait WHAT?!
Now you are just dying to find out about this theme park experience! Anis Sir decided that we should see the local amusement park and gave Colleen and I tickets to attend on Sunday! We had a cute little RIMS group go and we all had a blast. I was very impressed with Vasco de Gama's Ship (a rickety replica of the Battering Ram at Busch Gardens), the mini water flume ride with one 6 person car for the whole park, the Wonder Show (sit in a theater that moves with the movie) the twisty water rides, and the gender separated wave pool that went off only at 3 pm. At the beginning of the day when we all placed our belongings in the locker, I was told to remove my shoes. "i thought we were riding the dry rides first," I said. …:::look at the American awkwardly:::…"yea we are," replies Aaliya. Summer--"Well, don't we have to wear shoes to ride the dry rides? Like isn't that required?" "No! Of course not! How would we ride the wet rides after if we had our shoes on!?" exclaims Aaliya so matter of factly. Well there I go breaking Rule #1…dangit its so hard sometimes! So we frolicked about the park barefoot wearing long pants and shirts on dry and wet rides alike. I was elated to arrive at the Wonder Show,--who knew that India had a rendition of the old school Questar or Corkscrew Hill from Busch Gardens? We all settle into our seats when the screen illuminates to a Windows Desktop. We watch the cursor move to a folder, double click, and then double click again on a Run Program icon. Bahhahaha it took all I had to not die laughing! Aside from the awkward intro of some old man in overalls sending us into the deadly coal mine roller coaster, it was so much fun! Aaliya cracked me up with her Barb Ryan ride-screaming skills as every twist, turn, and twitch jolted a piercing screech. The day was a great break from the school's chaos, and we all trudged in Monday morning with big silly grins. It was a great time!
The theme park also prompted another Sumleen term of which I'll let you decipher yourself: 'lawsuit'
Holy crap a gazillion things happen and a week flies by without any blogging! Maybe I could turn this blog into some reality show where I leave you dangling by a thread each week, "stay tuned for Frolic sin Fronteras, summer season 1." Get it? Summer season? baha! I'd like to thank Barb Ryan for my pun skills, and the honking motor vehicles outside my window for sleep deprivation.
I'll start by explaining "babox" like I promised last entry. There are many occasions where Colleen and I will find a situation completely normal until one reminds the other of how extremely strange, awkward, hilarious, or foreign the situation really is. Now we use "T-II" when we encounter something that we have only seen in India, and it typically refers to one individual thing. Example: I see a man on a motorcycle, steering with one hand, rolled up mattress in a one arm bear hug. I would say 'babox' when referring to an entire situation. Stating 'babox' calls attention to the situation so that both Americans can take a step outside the box and glance in at the absurdity of their lives at that moment. Example: Summer and Colleen get on the Disco Spin (equivalent of the 'merry mixer') at the local theme park in Kannur. Summer says, "babox" and instantly both Americans freeze the situation at hand and take a gander at whats happening. We are on a sketchy carnival-like ride, listening to Indian techno, barefoot, soaking wet pants and long shirts, and watching a mother and her baby no more than 1 spin around in the car next to us…..oh and the baby is laughing and clapping to the techno beat. Yeah thats cool…. wait WHAT?!
Now you are just dying to find out about this theme park experience! Anis Sir decided that we should see the local amusement park and gave Colleen and I tickets to attend on Sunday! We had a cute little RIMS group go and we all had a blast. I was very impressed with Vasco de Gama's Ship (a rickety replica of the Battering Ram at Busch Gardens), the mini water flume ride with one 6 person car for the whole park, the Wonder Show (sit in a theater that moves with the movie) the twisty water rides, and the gender separated wave pool that went off only at 3 pm. At the beginning of the day when we all placed our belongings in the locker, I was told to remove my shoes. "i thought we were riding the dry rides first," I said. …:::look at the American awkwardly:::…"yea we are," replies Aaliya. Summer--"Well, don't we have to wear shoes to ride the dry rides? Like isn't that required?" "No! Of course not! How would we ride the wet rides after if we had our shoes on!?" exclaims Aaliya so matter of factly. Well there I go breaking Rule #1…dangit its so hard sometimes! So we frolicked about the park barefoot wearing long pants and shirts on dry and wet rides alike. I was elated to arrive at the Wonder Show,--who knew that India had a rendition of the old school Questar or Corkscrew Hill from Busch Gardens? We all settle into our seats when the screen illuminates to a Windows Desktop. We watch the cursor move to a folder, double click, and then double click again on a Run Program icon. Bahhahaha it took all I had to not die laughing! Aside from the awkward intro of some old man in overalls sending us into the deadly coal mine roller coaster, it was so much fun! Aaliya cracked me up with her Barb Ryan ride-screaming skills as every twist, turn, and twitch jolted a piercing screech. The day was a great break from the school's chaos, and we all trudged in Monday morning with big silly grins. It was a great time!
The theme park also prompted another Sumleen term of which I'll let you decipher yourself: 'lawsuit'
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