The Jungle Book

What a day.

I’m going to burst the bubble right now and tell you that we did not, in fact, see a tiger. But it would be churlish of me to complain because we saw so much else and this weekend has been been so much fun, I don’t even know where to begin. I am sunburnt, battered and bruised (some stories to tell you there!) and I’ve rarely felt so awed in my life. Read on for some amazing tails (HAAAA pun)…

So our day began at five a.m. (we got a wake-up call for four-thirty but we weren’t leaving until 5.15 so that seemed a little eager. We went out to reception and were called in groups for our respective jeeps which were waiting for us outside. It was already bright and a very pleasant temperature. We got in our jeep, which looked old and basic and battered and WAS, but once we started driving it also felt kind of indestructible and it took the many bounces in the road extremely well. The road out was actually reasonably OK, then we passed through a small town, and continued on the road, then entered the park itself.

We got to the park and then our guide told us we could stand in the back of the jeep. Our guide had joined us in the town and he and the driver sat in the front and then six of us sat in the back, on a raised area that had no roof. We ended up standing for most of it. The feeling of the breeze and the sheer freedom of it was incredible. The park was huge – I’m so unused to having so much space; I think it made me appreciate it more. For the most part there are trees and forest areas on either side of the track, but there are also wide-open plains and lots of dry rivers that won’t be filled until monsoon strikes. At every point on the track where it intersects with rivers and streams it dips down and it’s covered in cement, and there’s always a huge bump at the point where the downhill ends and the uphill starts. It was pretty tough on our hips, which were constantly rattled against the roof of the jeep, but it was a small price to pay for the sights.

We must have been less than half an hour in when we saw our first sight, and it was no less grand than a herd of elephants. It was in one of the wide open plains, just in front of a line where a forest began, and they were being led by a huge male elephant with tusks that we could see even at our distance. There must have been at least five, very probably more. It’s something to see an elephant up close in a zoo, and a completely different thing to see them from far off in the wild. The sheer size of them is amazing, it almost seems unlikely that they belong to a world this small. They were so majestic – even the way their movements are so slow and measured seems to afford them extra wisdom.

The next thing we witnessed was something equally as interesting. We were just driving along a tree-lined sandy road and we were standing in the back as per usual and enjoying the sights and the cool breeze, and then our guide called to the driver to stop and reverse. This guy knew what to look for clearly because it took us a while to see what he’d seen from a speeding jeep. In the sand beside us were paw prints from the mighty striped beast himself, and we could see marks from where he’d been lying down in the sand – there were grooves from his rump and even where his tails was and it looked huge. It was a bizarre thought to think that he had probably been there sometime that morning, just laying in the sand.

Later on we saw a deer carcass off the road with a huge tear out of the side of it – the work of a tiger. The wound was massive and bright, bright red. I just found it bizarre that so little else of it was untouched. It seemed like a waste, but who am I to criticise the eating habits of the biggest cat in the park? As a veggie I clearly don’t approve but it’s something to see the sheer damage that one (not-so-) little pussy can do.

I guess the next best thing were the monkeys. We’d been seeing a few even on our journey into the area, at the toll bridges and sometimes just padding along or eating at the side of the road, much like the locals. There was one point in our journey where we got to step out to an en-route washroom where a few of the tourists were stopping for breaks and there was a tree that was just full of one big family of monkeys. They had silvery grey hair and little pink faces and clever hands and feet, and they just sit around, hopping from branch to branch from time to time, eating what they can find and sometimes having little bonding cleaning sessions or disputes. They’re so human. Even the way they turn the heads or feed themselves with those fantastically co-ordinated hands is just… it just makes me realise how closely related we are. I feel like I could have a conversation with one of these monkeys and they might have more of a clue of what I’m saying than some of the auto drivers back in Delhi.

What else? I saw some green parrots, some white birds, two little black birds with long trailing white tails – birds of paradise no less. And peacocks. Seeing peacocks in the wild is so weird. Everyone’s seen peacocks in the zoo, and “ooh”d and “aah”d when they fan out their tails. To realise that they do actually survive out here by themselves is just – it’s bizarre. Maybe it’s because of what the term “peacock” means in terms of human behaviour but they just seem to fabulous to be able to do things for themselves, if you understand me.

We also saw a python trail in the sand. It was a rather terrifying thing to see, because it was a good seven or eight inches wide, and you know if something that big and that fast is coming after you, your chances of survival are pretty slim. There was just one broad, smooth belly mark in the sand as the python had crossed the road and headed off into the grassland and that was as close as we got. I wouldn’t want to be any closer.

Another spot on the road was a real live mongoose. I’ve never really understood what a mongoose is, I think I still don’t. It kind of looked like a sort of stoat, and it had reddish-brown hair. It scurried across the road fast than I could get a good look at it.

The journey itself was a lot of fun. Like I said, we did have QUITE a lot of bumps on the way but the view was never got dull and the sensation of speeding along out in the open air with the morning breeze (and all the accompanying insects) in your face was just fantastic. There was also an immensely fun element of camaraderie with the other tourists who were of course, all Indians, as seems to be there trend everywhere we go. When we sped by in our jeep and they speed by in theirs, there would always be smiling and calling and often high-fiving, which was our favourite. If the road was narrow and the jeeps needed to slow down to pass each other we’d have a quick exchange:
“Hey!”
“Hi! Have you seen any tigers yet?”
“No, no have you?”
“Not yet. Where are you from?”
“Ireland! Where are you from?”
“India!”
“Really? We wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Haha! Good luck finding a tiger!”
“You too! Byeeeeeeeeee!”

We got back around ten in the morning, which left us time for some amazing breakfast and a swim in the pool. The breakfast… Breakfast in hotels is always my favourite thing about them. Here was no exception. The food was incredible. They had the usual toast, cereal, eggs, and then they also had fresh watermelon and papaya, as well as curry, no less, and chapati bread and litchi juice. It was fantastic.

Then the pool. I’m not going to lie, the water in it looked pretty dodgy, and we kept finding mangoes in it that fell from the tree overhead, but good Ganesh, it was such sweet relief. We were kind of iffy about it in the beginning because we weren’t sure what the modesty requirements were as far as swimming suits went and the first two boys who got in from our team had to buy special Speedos that apparently fulfilled the requirements. I braved a one-piece and nobody said anything (or they were too afraid to approach the white girl who was practically naked and tell her that she was being wildly inappropriate) and then as more and more of us got in it seemed to become less and less of an issue and soon there were practically all four of the Delhi teams frolicking about in the water. It was so much fun – we played a rather loose version of water polo, got up on each other’s shoulders and played a game we nicknamed Churling cross between Chicken and curling which is a sport we all grew very fond of at the first training weekend with Suas and the Winter Olympics was on the TV. It was fantastic!

After that, took a shower and a long nap then woke up to find a decent-sized spider on my pillow and decided to get up for lunch, about three hours after breakfast and yet with a raging appetite and had more curry and other delicious things with a sort of fruit custard for dessert, then at three in the evening we headed off on our second and last safari of the weekend.

The air was hotter this time but the rushing air helped with that. It was the same as last time, standing up in the jeep and seeing all we could see. There was much more song-singing and giddy jokes along the way this time which probably didn’t help any tiger-attracting we were meant to be doing but was still lots of fun. There’s just something about yelling out “Let It Go” at the top of your lungs whilst standing on the back of a jeep with the threat of hungry tigers in the middle of India that you really just can’t beat.

Maybe it was something to do with belting out the Frozen soundtrack in the middle of the jungle but we didn’t see any tigers. It was much the same deal as this morning – we didn’t really see anything else that we could add to our list of exotic animals – no elephants, less peacocks, just a couple of monkeys… but it was still fantastic and we got to visit this shrine thing at the end where we stuck our heads under a fountain and got absolutely drenched, then we got blessed by a monk with that red chalk that we sometimes see the kids wearing after they’ve been to temple/mosque. It was a special place, and the view was fantastic. Have a look at the dirt trail!

We also stopped at an amazing viewpoint on the way back just in time for sunset. You won’t believe this. It was incredible. I was lucky enough to get some photos:

Just look at that jungle…

…aaand a selfie with my red chalk anointment…

On our way back we did see a cat of some sort. It was little more than a shadow that moved quickly into the trees, small but much bigger than a house cat and a sort of brown colour. It might have been a leopard but we’re not sure. It was certainly something – I think even if it was a house cat I’d still be happy. there were plenty of deer around as well so I’m guessing it’s going to dine well tonight.

Then we headed back at maybe seven or eight, when it was dark. We met an elephant on our way home, in one of the elephant shelters on the side or the road where their owners keep them and take money to let people ride on them. They’re kept chained up most of the time but they don’t seem to have a bad life, the owners are always cleaning them and feeding them and taking care of them – I guess it’s what they do, and they won’t get business if their elephant doesn’t look like he or she is being cared for properly. The elephant we met was a forty-five year old lady called Talina, who apparently was young for an elephant – they live to about a hundred. She was being fed bamboo at the time and to say hello she stretched out her trunk for a hand-touch, almost a high-five but with much more dignity and something numinous that comes with meeting such a mighty animal. That trunk is thicker than the python tracks we saw today and so, so powerful, but the elephants aren’t interested in power. It’s just something they have that they use to feed themselves and clean themselves. It’s so precise, shocking for something that size. Talina ate bamboo – huge sticks of bamboo that I would have trouble breaking with both my hands – by picking some up with her trunk and then pulling it up between her forelegs, to bend it into a size more suitable for her mouth. Then in it would go and it would slowly disappear, these big sticks of what are essentially wood, thicker than sausages. Talina shifted from foot to foot as she ate, which meant that her head would slowly swing forward to one side and then the other, and if you were at the side, she sort of just loomed larger in your vision. It would have been scary, if it wasn’t so gentle. We rubbed her trunk and the incredibly thick skin of her shoulders. She even gave me a hug before I left. Her trunk was warm. She didn’t really smell of anything, which kind of surprised me. I felt like I was saying goodbye to a friend when I left.

OH – THEN – fun story. We got back, hopped straight in the pool and did some more frolicking, this time in the dark. I actually got a daytime picture of it and yeah, it looks pretty preen and funny, but we were desperate, and despite the fact the you couldn’t see your own hand if you put it under water and the chemicals burned all my henna off, it was actually quite pleasant.

On the other side, this is the Le Roi Hotel. Pretty snazzy.

So during our night-time swim we decided we’d try some grander gymnastics, which mainly involved little people standing on bigger people ( I say “little people”, I clearly mean that in relative term because one of those was me). At one point we had five guys in a ring around the bottom and four girls standing on their shoulders. We did it a few times before we got it absolutely perfect and managed to hold it for almost a full minute. Normally in the previous attempts we’d get it for a couple of seconds and then us girls on top would fall outwards and that would all be fine. On our second-last attempt, it just so happened that our lack of balance would have us fall all in the one direction so the whole thing ended up being a heap of nine bodies all mashed together. I ended up smashing my eyebrow off one of the guy’s heads and despite how thick everyone who knows me must think my skull is (I have been known to be nicknamed Hodor) I think I came off the worst. The black eye came up straight away. It only hurt for a few minutes and then it was fine. We managed to do the tower one more time and hold it for as long as it took our co-ordinator to take a picture of the masterpiece before we headed for dinner.

By this point we were starving for dinner which didn’t disappoint and for dessert there were these incredible (and probably incredibly fattening) deep-fried dumplings. Even the Boston native on our team found it overwhelming. My eye continued to swell up for the entire thing and at the end I could barely see out of it, but it still didn’t hurt. I even got some photos to show you! This was just before I went to bed, a few hours after the incident:

…and this is the next day… Swelling’s down, colour’s up!

Again, to my family who will be reading this, I’m fine. Really. I’m just enjoying showing off a very impressive-looking injury that makes me look fantastically tough but doesn’t actually hurt at all. Forgive me some vanity!

Bed after an entertaining game of Mafia and a some socialising before we were told to shut the hell up (in much, much nice terms than that) by management.

I feel like I’ve packed two days into one here. I’ve gotta say I enjoyed both of them immensely!

Journey Into The Wild

This weekend we’ve gone to the Jim Corbett Tiger reserve with our fingers crossed in the hope of seeing some stripes. All four of the Delhi teams travelled together in two buses to get here and it’s shaping up to be quite a weekend!

So the whole thing started with an eight-hour bus journey. It was definitely not as bad as I thought it was going to be, and the view kept me entertained. If you keep your eyes open you can see so much – there are tiny things happening everywhere in this country that just slip by you if you’re not looking. It took us about an hour alone to get out of Delhi, perhaps more. It’s kind of difficult to tell when you are actually OUT of Delhi – the buildings just stretch on and on and until you’re on the motorway, there are pretty much shops on either side of the road at all times, selling fruit and packets of spicy dried cereals. Once you hit the road properly, which takes some time, the countryside on either side of the road doesn’t look all that unlike Ireland… just drier. Dustier. More space that looks like wasteland but that I suspect actually isn’t. More fields are dedicated to crops rather than animal grazing which does of course make sense, given that this is a mostly vegetarian population.

Passing through smaller towns on the way was strange. It’s immediately apparent to the locals that we’re a bus full of white people and that attracts all sorts of attention. I’m learning that there are different types of staring:
1. The Just Starers. These are the people who do nothing but stare. Their eyes lock onto you from the minute you appear in their field of you and they stop whatever they’re doing and their eyes never leave you until the minute you leave their field of vision. These people are particularly creepy because their face doesn’t change for the whole thing. They don’t smile at all. It seems obvious given the name, but these people Just Stare.
2. The Stare-And-Smilers. These ones will stare for a few moments while they comprehend what they are seeing. They will then smile, in their crinkly brown-eyed, usually gap-toothed way. If there is another Starer nearby, the first will beckon to the second whilst continuing to smile and then they partake in the activity together, both with big white smiles plastered on their faces. Again, they will watch you until you leave their field of vision. I don’t mind these ones quite so much because despite the obvious discomfort of having someone stare at you and smile at you in a very unsettling manner, it almost feels like you’re a luck charm, that you brought luck to their day. It’d be nice to think I did; I don’t think I do, but if it makes them feel like that well so much the better for them.
3. The Wavers. These are either young kids or creepy men between the ages of eighteen and forty. They will spot you, smile and wave at you, usually calling something out to you as well – often “Hello!” or “How are you?” because it’s the English that some of them know. They get an enormous kick out of it when you wave back. Like I said, with some of the men it’s creepy but for the most part it’s harmless fun, and the kids love it. I tried not to for a while for the sake of trying to be inconspicuous but in all fairness, what’s the point? They know you’re different; they’re just celebrating it. If you join in, they’ll wave even more enthusiastically, and I always get a kick out of it, so I guess it’s a mutually beneficial thing. It’s fun! These people are definitely my favourites.
4. The Roadside Salespeople. Always, when you stop at a toll bridge, there are people walking around selling roasted corn, olives, packet snacks, mangoes, bananas and chilled water. If it doesn’t look super-dodgy it usually looks delicious. The salesmen walk up to the bus carrying their wares and once they realise who’s inside they either call out louder or they just stop and stand outside the bus holding their stuff, doing nothing, just looking in. It’s a bit weird.
5. The Dancers. These are rarities and occur in groups of three or more. They do it all, they stare, smile, wave and then break into dance with their staring friends. It’s only happened once or twice but it simultaneously amuses and freaks me out so I think it deserves a mention.

There’s also a lot of wicker ware being sold on the side of the road by the country – shelters line the roadside in places, some stretch for hundreds of metres, and they all sell the exact same wicker chairs and baskets, most with a little dye splashed here or there. In the towns it’s fruit. Mountains upon mountains of mangoes, bananas, litchi, watermelons and things that are simultaneously lemons and limes. You won’t find any oranges here, I think they’re out of season, and if there were any available I’m sure we’d’ve found them – we’d all love a good orange at this point in our travels. Apples… I don’t think they grow much here. You don’t see them at the fruit stalls, only in supermarkets, and then I’d say they’re imported. They’re far too perfect-looking to seem like local produce.

Then there are the animals: semi-domesticated ownerless dogs, cows that don’t look like cows so much as camels (many of them have this hump on the back of their neck and I think it might be from a bar on the harness that their owners use to make them carry around stuff on carts), goats (I find these goats hilarious. All of the other animals here have a sort of listless lack of energy about them between the heat and the general hustle and bustle of the place; I’ve seen motorbikes zoom past cows from mere inches away and they don’t bat an eyelid. The goats are just as familiar with the crazy transport around them but they also have a skittishness to them which for some reason is really funny – they dance around and jump all over the place. I also like them because they will eat anything and everything – I’ve seen them go for everything from an already-chewed ear of corn to banana skins to stuff that isn’t even organic. And if they don’t actually eat it, then they’ll chew it. The man-made world is a goat’s chewing gum.), the skinniest horses I’ve ever seen (and yes, I’ve been to suburban Dublin), and even monkeys. They’re all over the toll bridges (probably because they can get food easily there). Monkeys are also endlessly amusing. They’re so human – they’re pretty much how humans would act without any inhibitions or manners. I’m hoping we’ll see many more while we’re on safari!

In the fields around Delhi there’s also an inordinate amount of incinerators, which I guess is the reason there’s so much smog. They spew out thick, black smoke that doesn’t look too healthy and lingers in a malignant cloud over the city. In Delhi, you’ll never see a sunrise or a sunset – it just goes from light to dark. India needs to discover recycling, and fast.

This is typically what I saw looking out of the window. I guess it’s not that different from Ireland – just ninety nine per cent drier.

And another one – I think God may have appeared briefly for this one. #godphotobombing

After a few hours we stopped at a Bikanervala (a chain of shops that do lots of traditional Indian sweets and also dinners from North and South India, Chinese and Continental foods. I got a mango milkshake – unreal!) and then kept going. We came off the motorway onto smaller roads. As it was getting dark we ended up on some of the worst roads I’ve ever been on in my life – it’s so far out in the country that there’s just vast stretches of roads where huge patches of the tarmac have been worn away into dust, but some still remain and it’s incredibly uneven. The amount of road that’s been worn down just tells you how long it’s been since these roads have been maintained. It’s crazy. It also means that the going is very slow and painstaking. It’s annoying to be a passenger but it must be gutting to be a driver, because you’re forced to go so slow. Often you won’t even have to be worried about speed because you’ll end up stuck behind an ox-drawn cart or a trailer that’s falling apart, laid high with hay, and there’s just no space to overtake them.

Finally, at ten in the evening, we’ve arrived at our destination. It’s this hotel called the Le Roi Hotel and it feels like a palace. We haven’t been in shabby accommodation at all in Delhi but this almost feels like too much. We were served fresh mango juice as we came in and on the way to our rooms we saw there’s a swimming pool (you can’t imagine how excited I am to get into it – I don’t care how tired I am after the safari, I’m going in!) and the room I’m staying in with two of the other girls is incredible. There’s a proper shower and a TV and a desk and the beds are incredible. We’re going to sleep in style tonight!

We’re up at five tomorrow for the first of two safari trips that we’re going to pack into the day. I’d better get some sleep – my heads got to be clear in case I have to wrestle with some tigers!

Down with the kids!

Have a quick look at my henna! We took all the paste off on Tuesday evening and this is how it’s looking now. What do you think?

Hey there!

The designs are incredible. A lot of my team mates have voiced their opinions on the fingers on my left hand, which look like they’ve been dipped in treacle. They do look kind of dirty and the brown dye on and under my nails does nothing to lessen that image but I’m liking it (I guess it’s a good thing I do; it won’t fade for another couple of weeks!).

See the swirls on my left palm? That’s a peacock. I learned that today in Hindi it’s called “mor”. The kids were teaching me more than I was teaching them, I reckon! Hindi is a fabulous language. I’ve discovered I really like it; I’m going to attempt to learn some more. I’ll be more fluent in Hindi than the kids will be in English by the time I leave!

In school today we did animals and we did a little revision on occupations and some work on family. I learned the Hindi words for those too. In Hindi, a grandmother is called a Nani, but a grandfather is called a Nana. Imagine calling your granddad Nana! I found that talking to the kids about their families was a big hit – this is a very familial culture and people are always willing to talk about their family; it seems to be a good way to get to know people. The kids are all incredibly fond of their little siblings and have a lot of respect for their older ones. Sonu, the teacher’s son, absolutely loves his little nephew that we met on Tuesday, called Konen; there’s a video on his mother’s phone of her playing with him and Konen laughing and he just watches it over and over again. Also, maybe this is me being culturally ignorant and not being so familiar with the facial features of Indian people, but family members look incredibly alike. Between sisters and brothers maybe not so much, but between brothers and between sisters, the similarities are incredible! In the second class there are the three brothers called Arshad, Atif and Adil. They are eleven, ten and eight respectively and although I am proud to say I have everyone else’s names down pat, these boys I just have so much trouble with. They’re incredibly similar and they all have the same mannerisms; it’s really funny to watch them altogether. the fact that they’re all so close in age as well means it’s difficult to tell who is the oldest. They’re the three brothers who all want to be policemen – I hope it happens for them; they’d be unstoppable!

We’re not going to be in school tomorrow, all the Delhi teams are heading to the Jim Corbett Tiger Reserve so today was kind of our Friday with the kids. Also it’s the last day of the summer camp – they start school on Monday, but it’s the same hours and the same kids, so I don’t know how much different it’ll be. Hopefully not very; I like how things are running at the moment. If we have to take away some of the games and songs I think things will dull down, which I don’t want. The upshot of this being “Friday” was that we kind of spent more time just chatting to the kids. The language barrier is becoming less and less of a thing as they become more confident actually speaking English and probably also because we understand each other’s ways a little more. Even just talking to the kids is so much fun; they’re easily amused and are endlessly amusing me, everything they say is fascinating to me. Even the littlest things … today I wore my black kurta into school, and there are two strings with tassels on them that tighten it, and the kids were fixing it for me and showing me how to do it properly, all the while explaining that a kurta is a shirt with a split from the hips down at the sides, while a kurti has no split. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Argh! It’s bothering me more than it should that I can’t remember! Especially because when they kids are explaining something to me in Hindi they pronounce everything so dramatically and emphatically that I feel compelled to get it right, for their sake, if not for mine.

One of the girls in the kindergarten class had her birthday today, she’s six years old! Her older sister, Twinkle, is in our second class, she’s a really bright spark. Her mother came in with gifts of sweets and cake for us! Twinkle and her mother look so alike as well – I wish I could show you pictures, it’s incredible! Twinkle’s little sister looks more like their dad. When the class was finished, we were on the verge of leaving when they invited us back to their house, literally just up the road, and of course we said yes. Again the hospitality was fantastic – they tended us with cold water and more sweets and showed us pictures of the whole family, of all of them dolled up to the nines – everyone here seems to put so much more of an emphasis on clothes than homes, that’s where the wealth of a family seems to lie. Twinkle and her little sister were dressed up in their finest today for the celebrations and their mother has a natural elegance and grace to her, something Twinkle has inherited. In class if we ask a question, Twinkle is the girl who will find the little kids who won’t know the answer, tell it to them and let them have the glory of answering and getting it right. It’s very endearing.

So that’s school over until Monday! This weekend I shall be going on safari to the tiger reserve as I said where I hope to see a “bagh” as the kids taught me today and I am evidently not going to be posting until I’m back (unless I feel compelled to in the morning) so until then wish me luck and I’ll be back soon!

Slum school

So I’ve been dying to tell you all about school yesterday – we were doing occupations with the kids and we found out what all of them want to be. It was so exciting; I can’t even describe it. Maybe it’s because this is about what happens to the kids when we’re gone and I’m just anxious because I won’t be here to see that. These are kids from the slums.

In the first class (I’m going to do this Les Choristes style…) we had three businessmen, three policemen, three doctors, two lawyers, one pilot, one dancer and one soldier-slash-dancer, a rather unusual combination. The one girl in our morning class was the only engineer. Go Muskan!

One of those kids, Bilal, is a kid I envisioned being a doctor right from the start when I was beginning to get to know him and when he said that’s what he wanted to be it suddenly clicked. I don’t see this kid being anything else. He’s a bright, hard-working kid that has an edge of something ballistic and fun that all us med heads like to think we have. I couldn’t imagine him doing anything else. And now that I know that’s what he wants to be, I really, really want him to achieve that, so badly. I can’t explain it; I can’t tell you exactly why I feel so strongly about this. I suppose because it’s because we have a specific common goal, something I didn’t expect with an eleven-year-old kid from the slums half a world away.

In the second class we have three brothers who all want to be policemen, three English teachers, one Hindi teacher two doctors, one dancer, one doctor-slash-dancer, and one dancer-slash-engineer. These are ambitious kids!

I asked Kita about their chances of actually going on to higher education and university and she’s hopeful: “From rags to riches”, very literally. But I still don’t know. Today we asked them what their parents do and 90% of their mothers are housewives, and many of their fathers are drivers. They’re poor kids.They’re bright and enthusiastic and hardworking and funny and brilliant – just like any other kids in the world – but because of where they’ve been born and the lack of opportunities they’ll have, their chances of achieving their dreams will suffer terribly. I didn’t realise just how unfair that was until I came here and got to know the kids, even after the little time I’ve spent with them, and realise that there ARE real kids behind the statistics who have things they want to be and mothers who brush their hair before they come to school and vegetables they don’t like and favourite colours and who go wild every time we play the marker game – they’re people. And they deserve to get the same chances as everyone else and they just can’t. I’ve been able to go to school, I’ll have been in education for twenty years of my life; I’ve had access to some of the best facilities in the world and I’ve been given every chance possible to achieve my potential, all because of the incredibly small chance of being born to my particular family in one particular place. I could just as easily – SO much more easily, in fact, have been one of these kids who live beside open sewers and who have never been able to go more than a few kilometres beyond their homes and take such pride in the little things they have like pencil cases and pens because they have so little else.

I don’t think I can write about anything else tonight. There’s so much more lighthearted stuff that happened today but I’d feel wrong writing about it now.

The Unforgettable Kindness of an Indian Family

As I’m typing this I still have henna paste drawn all over my hands. It feels so weird to type with it. It’s kind of like… if you’ve ever dipped your fingers in candle wax and let it dry, it’s like trying to keep it perfectly in shape for two hours and not letting it fall off. It is one small part of an incredible amount of kindness shown to me in an Indian family’s home today – there’s so much to tell; I don’t know where to begin.

So today after school (I’ll tell you about that later; I think this takes priority), the teachers who are sisters invited us back to their house. We took two rickshaws – one for me and Amy with Sharjeel sitting in the back (we were terrified he was going to fall off and tried to hold onto him for any bumps, but realistically I’d say he’s taken his fair share of rickshaws this way and knows what to expect. Still – if he’d fallen… I don’t know what would’ve happened. Kita went in the second rickshaw with the teachers and they brought us to their house. It’s in an area that smelled like it was cooking the most amazing food in the world. Their rooms were up a few flights of stairs. It wasn’t a very rich place, but they’d made it into a home and their hospitality was just… mind-blowing.

A large portion of their very large family was gathered there – their grandfather died on Thursday night or Friday morning so that’s why they were gathered. The teacher was unintentionally cute, getting flustered and almost breathless as she introduced everyone. She was clearly very excited to have us there and showing us her family gave her pride. It was nice. There was a lot of them. What’s more they explained to us in English exactly who everyone was to the teaching sisters. It was like Bride and Prejudice: “Kohli Saab? He’s your father’s sister’s husband’s sister’s son!” They were mostly in-laws – we felt like we were meeting celebrities because we had seen some of them already from the elder sister’s wedding video. Apparently they felt the same way – as soon as we came in the door, many of the their father’s brother’s mother’s cousin’s daughter’s husband’s brother’s mothers or whoever they were were sitting cross-legged on the floor and sharing some food, then we came in and it was all smile and introductions and they put us up on a bed covered with a sheet of patterned silk and we chatted with them as best we could. There were kids too – the teacher’s nephew who is six months old was one of the cutest babies I’ve ever seen and I’m not easily charmed by cute babies. Or maybe I’m just getting all mushy and maternal. I don’t know.

Then there were a few our age, a few around twenty-five or thirty, married with their own kids (one had the striking features of brown skin and blue eyes; it’s a really amazing look) and then after that they were everything from forty to over a hundred I’d say. The oldest was the teachers’ grandmother, wife of the deceased. She was the most delicate human being I’ve ever seen; she was no bigger than an eight-year old girl and I thought I would break her if I laid so much as a hand on her shoulder. She looks like someone who is lost in the new age. It’s a sad thought and commands a certain respect.

They rolled out a sort of table-top onto the bed then and laid out the most amazing array of food I’ve ever seen – not only that but they – very literally – spoon-fed it to us. It was almost unsettling, but then I guess this is just how they show us hospitality so I did my best to be a good guest. The food itself – incredible. The first thing I tried was called rasgulla, which is unlike anything I’ve ever had before. They’re white balls slightly smaller than golf balls and they’re made of sugar and chhena which is apparently is a moist form of paneer, which is a sort of cheese. then they had this cake as well – sponge which was lighter than air and icing in between that was lighter than the sponge. It was fancier than anything I’ve eaten at home and they literally went as far as to put it in our mouths for us. I’ve never experienced hospitality like that before!

They told us when we were there that a guest has the same status as a god. I see that now!

Then a sister-in-law took us each in turn for henna tattoos. Many of the other girls on our team had them done by kids and teachers at school so we’ve been looking forward to having it done for ages. We were not disappointed. I don’t even know the name of the lady who did it for us, but she spoke good English and took us in turn for the henna. The henna itself is a paste and looks a little bit like melted chocolate and smells almost like a malt cereal; it came in a tube and she just snipped off the end and for all the world piped it onto our hands in amazing patterns and designs with shocking speed. I’d like to think I’m good at art and I reckon I probably would be able to copy them, but there’s no way I could rival the speed and deftness with which she did it. There’s no stencil; no second chances; no way to fix it if you get it wrong – but she never got it wrong. It was amazing. I was absolutely captivated by the whole process.

This was the finished product:

I think you’ll agree it’s pretty damn cool.

There were endless photos taken – of the henna first of all, but then it was the family and extended family and everyone, it was so funny! We were celebrities among them. Amy apparently reminded them of a deceased friend of theirs and they were amazed by my red hair and blue eyes – I forget how strange it must look when you’ve never seen anything like it in your whole life. It was intensely flattering; I’ve definitely gotten a swollen ego from it – again, in one sense I’m not looking forward to going home where suddenly I’m just another ginger again.

Oh, also – I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this but a lot of elderly citizens around these parts have white hair that’s dyed a bright orange colour, like that man we met at the ATM one one of our first days here. I found out today that they use the henna dye to colour their hair, and it comes out as ginger. I’m kind of annoyed; I thought I was setting a red-hair trend around here…

Back to the henna: the paste dries on your hand and then a few hours later when the skin is dyed you rub off the flakes. As I’ve been typing this it’s been coming off in bits and pieces as I’ve been typing (I think my Mac probably won’t thank me for all the flakes) and there’s a pile of henna debris growing beside me. I’ll take another picture once it’s all off. Our artist said she only does it for family members, so it was nothing short of an incredible honour to have it done by her. She’s so talented. It’s amazing; wish I had the skill to do it like she did. She emphasised that it was a case of practice makes perfect though so perhaps there’s hope for me yet! Now where can I buy henna? I reckon if I start practicing now I might just be as good as our artist when I’m ninety or so…

It was almost seven by the time we left, the goodbyes were long and elaborate – we’ve been invited round for Eid-al-Fitr, pretty much their equivalent of Easter, at the end of July, so we’re really looking forward to that! They’ve said they’ll be cooking fifteen different dishes, desserts, and there’ll be more henna. And they’ve invited the rest of the team, too – I hope we all go; it’d be amazing! The generosity of these people is never-ending.

Whew – long day, still overwhelmed by the whole thing. I might talk about school tomorrow, I’ve got to get to bed! But I’ll tell you all about the kids later, I’ve a lot to say!

Still in shock I think from everything. I don’t know what to do to show how grateful I am but kindness seems to be a one-way thing with them; they’re far too good to us. This here is the Indian people, some of the most amazing I’ve ever known.

Monday Update!

Beginning of Week Three! I’m back to my yoga/ school routine, after sickness and the productive weekend. This morning the yoga class was packed, a stark contrast from last week when my team mate and I were worried about being the only ones there, until two others joined us. What can I say? We made the place popular! In fairness it’s really good. It’s the perfect amount to do in the morning, not too much, but you still feel like you’re getting a good amount in and it gives you energy for the day rather than saps it from you.

This morning in our auto in we noticed a smattering of rain against the windscreen – the temperature was noticeably cooler too. We got ridiculously excited for it, but it lasted about 30 seconds… so disappointed. There are storms cast for tomorrow – fingers crossed!

When have I ever prayed for a storm? India is doing weird things to me…

Aaaaaaanyway so today was the beginning of our third week of teaching. We gave the kids a test to see how they’re doing which included letters of the alphabet Q-Z (we did A-P last week), numbers, greetings, directions and parts of the body, which was the topic of the week last week ( I say topic of the week – it was only meant to be for a day but our Marker game was requested on so many occasions that we’ve played it to perfection at this stage!). I think the main mode of testing is not actually in the test itself but rather how long it takes the kids. Most of them will eventually get all the answers but the range of time it takes them is incredible. Shahnwaz had it done in about ten or fifteen minutes but the rest took maybe an hour. It’s not fair on him – we try to keep him occupied and all the rest that finish early, but it’s difficult.

Especially today – we noticed today in particular how advanced some of the girls in our second class are. There’s three girls and a boy who are miles ahead – almost, almost conversational – except for one of the girls who is a genius when it comes to reading English but cannot speak it apparently. Does that sound crazy to you? It does to me. I do understand how that’s possible, particularly here, where words and spellings appear to be drilled into the kids, so I guess with this girl we can try and encourage her to speak it as much as possible. I know I’m much better at reading French than speaking it, so I suppose hers is just a much more extreme version of what happened to me. I think when you’re learning a written language, it’s all about learning the rules and learning the words by heart – there just is no other way to do it – and then when it comes to the spoken language it’s all about repetition and muscle memory with your mouth. I think that’s how we’ll benefit those girls the most.

OK, so just a brief update on what’s happening during the week: tomorrow after school, heading to V3S for a quick shopping spell, just for food and school supplies; Wednesday we’re going to Delhihad I think – it’s a market that’s not too crowded apparently and sells nice clothes so maybe I can replenish my stocks of suitable clothes then. Friday we are going on Safaaaaariiiiiiiiiii! It’s to the Corbett Safari Park where we’re preying we might spot a tiger (pun intended) and that’ll take up the whole weekend. I can’t wait. I’ll let you know everything as it happens, if I can – not anticipating WiFi while on safari, understandably (although looking at my Mac that also seems like a joke. It’s not. Don’t laugh) so I’ll update you next week. But listen out for it; I’m pretty sure it’ll be amazing!

Basti

A few of us headed to an area called Nizamuddin today, having been researched by our invaluable organiser team-mate beforehand. There’s an organisation called the Hope Project there who do 90-minute walks around the basti – they tell you about life in the slum, and show you what the Hope Project does to feed, clothe and educate the children there. It was a fantastic tour and the area amazed me.

We got a metro there, then a couple of autos, who had no idea where they were taking us – what should have been a five-minute journey ended up taking us about half an hour. Then we were dropped in Nizamuddin and suddenly we were surrounded by goats and running kids and we had no idea where to go. Our guide eventually came out to meet us and took us to the Hope Project Centre. Our guide was maybe 25, very friendly, calm, smart, well-educated and just generally nice. He’s a business student with a flair for languages it seems, which is fairly apparent from his excellent English. He showed us around the area and gave us some explanations.

It’s very evident from the beginning that there’s extreme poverty in the area and the guidebook warns you to wear modest clothing – about 78% of the people there are Muslims and I don’t think they’d take too kindly to us decked out in our best gear from V3S. Still, that said… I don’t know. Walking around in it, the word ”slum” doesn’t exactly spring to mind. It just seems to be a very different kind of place from many that we’ve been to so far. The streets are very tight and crowded and overrun with goats, cows, chickens, dogs and cats and of course people. When we went today, it was almost all men, wearing long white tunics and white caps. The women are covered so modestly that not an inch of their skin shows; they wear veils that cover even around their eyes and I know we were sweating like pigs, so I can’t imagine how they were feeling.

The stalls and shops are incredibly bright and colourful – they sell fabric and shoes and special perfumes that don’t contain an alcoholic solvent because they’re Muslims. There’s stalls full of food I’ve never seen before – I want to try it all! A lot of it was meat though – they’re pretty blunt with the whole “circle of life” sort of thing; they have cages of white chickens who they take out one at a time, behead right before the rest of the brood on block of wood with a knife and pluck and cook. It’s pretty much as fresh as it gets.

Also, around every corner is another mosque and everywhere you go, people are selling these pink flowers that you buy and then offer up in the mosques. These are they:

The smell of incense is everywhere; so too is the smell of shit. Mostly animal shit. Most of the places we went had a slightly uncomfortable smell to them – it’s not that it smelled terrible; I just constantly had the feeling that we were about to. There’s a lot of rubbish around the place – I guess it’s my upbringing but I’m always a little taken aback when people just drop their wrappers and rubbish on the ground when they’re finished with it. It’s shocking sometimes to see the amount of it that accumulates. And the skinny goats feeding off whatever’s left.

The other thing that struck me was how much all the people seem to cram into such little space. In the shops people have barely more than a dinner-table-sized space and they can fit a whole Tesco Extra’s worth of stuff in there. It’s incredible. And it’s all intense colours and salesmen smiling gap-toothed smiles at you and extending friendly arms inviting you in and there’s so many of them.

We met this one guy along the way who has become acquainted wit hour tour guide it seems – he is a sort of witch doctor, unsurprisingly pretty common here, who specialises in sexology, we were told. One of our number is afflicted by a shoulder injury and the Doc said if he came back tomorrow he’d have medicine for him. Apparently if our friend had any problems to do with his specialty area he’d be able to give him something out of his back pocket. He claimed to be 105. I think he said that to sell more than it was true; he looked a good seventy maybe – although our guide said he would have put him at eighty or ninety, which I guess just goes to show. He looked pretty damn spry to me. And our guide mentioned that his great grandmother is something like 102 – bearing in mind, this guy is in his mid-twenties.

We visited a few tombs – one of which belonged to a guy who saved the life of the second mughal emperor of India apparently, so this man would have lived before Shah Jehan, who reigned during the construction of the Taj Mahal. There were three bodies in there – the man, his wife and his brother, according to historians. The male sarcophagi have a symbol on them which represents a pen, to show his direction in the family. The wife’s symbol was flatter and broader to symbolise chalk – apparently it meant that as a woman she wasn’t meant to have the same lasting impression as the men. While our guide told us all this, kids yelled into us from outside the tomb and our guide attempted to brush them off, a little unsuccessfully.

As we left we saw these stalls with people selling sticks of wood called miswak that they use instead of toothpaste and apparently cure seventy diseases. They’ve got a sort of soft bark on the outside and are hard on the inside. Apparently you chew the bark to a pulp, then rub it around with the stick. Our guide told us he had a friend who was well-educated but couldn’t get a job because he was very traditional and had a long beard and carried a stick of miswak in his breast pocket. Then during one interview the employer asked him what it was, and when he heard it cured seventy diseases he asked him to name them all. He did it, and was hired on the spot. So I guess miswak i stood for employment prospects, even if not for cleaning your teeth. This is miswak:

What else…? Oh yeah, I saw my first cat in Delhi so far. I saw a couple of them actually. They’re very scrawny and weak-looking. The other day on the metro we saw a guard with a dog on a leash in the women’s carriage. the dog was a black labrador – his hair was shiny and thick and black and the dog was fat. That’s the first dog I’ve seen that looks anything like a dog back at home. All the others are scavengers that don’t belong to anybody and survive off the waste of people. I guess pets aren’t a terribly big thing here.

I think that’s all I can remember… It was a very interesting tour and we have been invited back on a Friday evening sometime to listen to Sufi music – it’s the chanting in the mosques on Fridays, which is the holy day. Kita has told us before that the latest music trends in Delhi are mixes of Sufi music and techno. I’ve yet to listen to it, but I’m intrigued.

Home again now, ready for teaching tomorrow again – the beginning of our third week! Bizarre.

Teachers by week, tourists by weekend. the life of a volunteer!

The Akshardham Temple, collapsing in the Metro and party at the Palace!

Today a group of us went with one of the translators’ primary and secondary school – it’s kind of a mix of both; she attended from our equivalent of first class to sixth year. It’s a beautiful school. We took a metro, then an auto, and found ourselves in one of these parts of Delhi that just seem to be roads and roundabouts surrounded by smooth sidewalks and bright green trees and loads of space but seemingly still not enough for the indignant drivers on the road. It’s a beautiful area, and the school fitted right in.

The school is called Vidyalaya and the translator, Pavni, told us it’s the school that all parents want their kids to get into; it’s one of the most prestigious in Delhi. It’s difficult to get into and looks like a dream to attend. When you arrive, up the steps there is a huge gold circle that is the emblem of the school, called the Chakra.

Once you get inside, it’s all open hallways (when I mean open I mean they’re more balconies than hallways), modern science labs, home economics rooms, libraries and pitches. It’s amazing. Apparently every year they have a food festival with food stalls all around the school – this year there were more than sixty, and the food they sell sounds absolutely delicious.

There’s also a principal’s garden – the principal lives in the school – and it’s a patch of paradise. Here, I took a few photos…

Oh , and there’s a Lovers’ Lane too!

After that we went for lunch in a pretty snazzy place not far from the school and chatted with Pavni, and ate and had this dessert. Got a snap of that too. Yes, that’s a dessert. The noodles over it are cold and sweet and the stuff underneath is called Kulfi – it’s a bit like ice-cream. It’s weird when you’re not used to it; not everyone could finish it!

Then we said goodbye to Pavni and got a metro to Akshardham to meet up with some of the rest of our team and also some of Shine Om team who live in Delhi as well.

At Akshardham is the Akshardham Temple and it is one of the most amazing places I have ever been in my life. The security there is ten times tighter than at the Taj Mahal, yet it’s free to get in and it’s very new, in operation for less than a decade. It seems to be made mostly from red terra cotta the whole thing is made of the most intricate carving I’ve ever seen, and it’s EVERYWHERE. It didn’t have more of a “wow” factor than the Taj Mahal, but that could be purely down to reputation and history. Its grounds are bigger and the temple is apparently the world’s largest comprehensive Hindu temple. It is the richest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like somebody has taken Delhi, sucked all the wealth out of the rest of it and concentrated in Akshardham. There is that less-than-savoury feel to it, especially as it was built as a tribute to a boy called Neelkanth who was an eleven-year-old child yogi who, in 1792, walked for 12,000 km around India barefoot and naked with nothing at all, just to preach and learn. It kind of makes me wonder what he would think of the temple if he was around to see it. I don’t think he’d like it, if that was the kind of life he led.

It was about six when we arrived, so we were lucky to see it both in daylight and as evening fell. The atmosphere is just incredible.

Before you go in, they take your belongings and electronic devices, and you have to walk barefoot in the temple and across the marble floor before it which, even at seven at night, burns the soles of your feet in the heat. You can’t take any pictures, obviously then, so I’ve decided to look to Google Images for help just to show you. There are lots of different areas in the grounds – the temple itself, whole courtyards and lakes dedicated to certain monuments, and bizarrely restaurants that provide drinks and popcorn for hungry visitors. But for the most part it’s tamales and broad walkways and well-tended gardens. The place is so vast and incredible that it’s difficult not to be awed by it.

Once you go into the temple itself, in the centre is a chamber that glitters and sparkles like very surface is encrusted with jewels and there’s a giant golden statue in the middle. Around that there are several chambers, all very symmetrical and perfect, intricately carved pillars and sculpted ceilings that would make Michelangelo weep. I really can’t get over this place. I didn’t like it as much as the Taj Mahal exactly, but it definitely left a very lasting impression.

One last thing that has nothing to do with the temple and more to do with actually getting to it. I haven’t mentioned this before but my teaching partner has narcolepsy and is prone to fainting (I wanted to check it was OK with her to add this into the blog; I feel strongly that you should understand what happened and how dangerous it was). She gets dizzy for a moment, faints, and can be woken up literally about three seconds later and is usually just fine. Her triggers are – wait for it – heat, stress, being crowded, exhaustion and pretty much everything else here that makes Delhi Delhi. I think it was brave of her to come here.

But today when we got the metro to Akshardham, it was getting on for rush hour and we were crammed in the women’s carriage right in the front of the train, behind the drivers’ compartment. The girls were sitting on the ground and I was standing by the door. It wasn’t terribly crowded when we got on – no more than usual at least – but it filled up quickly with the crowds flocking to Akshardham and with absolutely no space at all and barely any air to breathe, Amy fainted, right behind my legs. It was so crowded that nobody could even look down and there was much less of a fuss than usual, with only the very closest asking if she was OK as she came to. She was fine, as usual, and we got out of the train at our stop and headed for the exit.

Then, when we got to the gate, it was a whole different story. It was packed. The metro here is much like a metro anywhere and you have a metro card that you use to get in and out of the gates. At Akshardham, people were being shoved right up against the gates and pushing and jostling and it was tighter then the metro, with the added pressure of people pushing to get places. We all eventually got through – except for Amy. Right at the point she tried to get out, there seemed to be a problem with some of the gates and Amy couldn’t seem to get through any. The crowds behind her weren’t helping. We were all watching on the other side, totally helpless, and we could see she was getting anxious and panicky. Finally she ran behind someone else as they went through, walked about three steps, collapsed, came to and had a panic attack. It was scary for us, infinitely more so for her and it took a long time for her to recover and for us to get away from the staring people. It was pretty dangerous. There aren’t many concessions for people like Amy in a city like this. Here’s a photo to show you how crowded it was…

Anyway.

After that we came back to Preet Vihar with the guys from Shine Om and had a party at Pratham Palace! It was great! We also had a bit of a quiz night, using some of the questions from a couple of my fundraisers. That plus pizza plus some beer plus excellent company and conversation – the first typical Saturday night I’ve had in a while!

Less-than-Grand Theft Auto

Woohoo! Made it to school today. Only it was my partner who was very badly sick this morning so our team co-ordinator came with me to school and we were given a lift by Kita. Amy went to yoga this morning and when she got back was not feeling very good at all so we forbade her from attending. I think the rest did her good today; she was much perkier when we got back.

The kids were very cute, asking me if I was OK and where my partner was. The classes seemed smaller today – I’ve noticed that more and more of the kids seem to be being put in the kindergarten room next door – the ones I assume the teachers think can’t keep up with the more advanced kids in the class we teach. That doesn’t sit well with me. The class certainly moves along better when there are only “smart” kids in it but then what are you left with? The less advanced groups don’t benefit at all, and these are girls that I think are twelve, thirteen, maybe even fourteen (it’s so difficult to tell). They should be learning – and not the lists of numbers and meaningless words they can recognise but not sound out by themselves. They’re not kindergarteners. It’s wrong not to give them the chance that the other kids have had just because they have less of a foundation of English.

Today we went over everything we’ve done all week and directions, which Amy did with the first but not the second group yesterday. They seemed to generally know them anyway – or at least the Hindi translations. We blindfolded a boy and had him take steps around a path of schoolbags as prompted by the directions in English given by his peers, one at a time. They weren’t so good at that. I think this is a problem a lot of the team is facing with the kids – they can translate these words and spell them like clockwork but they just can’t see to apply them – as one of the team said, their critical thinking and logic is actually quite poor. They’re good kids and hard workers and their Maths and Science is well up to scratch but it’s the little things like this that just don’t seem to click with them. And it bothers me because I don’t really understand why it happens. I’ll try and work it out over the next while.

My co-ordinator was very interested in the whole day and how things were run. She was of course charmed by the kids – it’s impossible not to be! There were less teachers around today because the two teachers who are sisters had a funeral to attend and I felt like having another grown-up was nice even though I’m supposed to be a grown-up as well. It’s both easier and harder to be an adult with the kids. We’re the teachers, obviously, so we naturally assume the role, but playing games and singing songs with them, it’s so easy to just be one of them. It suddenly doesn’t seem that far behind me. I simultaneously feel a lot older and younger than nineteen.

Oh, one last thing – poor Kita parked her car nearby and when we came out it was literally in the process of being stolen. There were a couple of guys looking at it and eyeing up the windows and they looked mightily shifty when Kita questioned them furiously on what they were doing. She couldn’t believe it; neither could we. I don’t think she’ll be driving here again any time soon. Life here is uncivilised. Actually – maybe not so much that as there’s just less wealth to hide greed behind. That’s what drives people around here. People at home have enough to be happy with, and these people don’t have much at all. I think many of us would be driven to stealing as well.

Enough of these deep thoughts! It’s Friday. I should be celebrating! We have a cake to look forward to tonight from Cafe 21 and it looks incredible. The boys are having a game of soccer in the common area and are getting hilariously competitive. We’re all kids! The electricity’s gone so it looks like it’ll be board games tonight, or maybe a quiz or charades or something. And maybe an ice cream from the shop next door. Life’s good. We have enough.

Throw-Up Thursdays

I think I would have been a hazard to the kids if I’d come into school today. I was afraid to be outside of a five-meter radius from our bathroom. Being sick here is pretty horrible – our bathroom light is gone and there’s no air-conditioning in there so it’s as hot as it is outside and when you’re throwing up your insides – not that you would anyway, but you don’t feel good about it.

So I spent the day sleeping it off, wandering around the house like a geriatric at three in the morning, drawing animals for some of the others for use in the classroom tomorrow and all this within sprinting distance of the bathroom. My, what an active life I lead.

I wasn’t the only one staying at home today either – one of my other team mates spent the day sleeping as well; he was feeling pretty run-down. This is of course after another one of the boys was too sick to go to the Taj Mahal and right now as I’m typing one of the girls in our room is the nest monkey in the process of falling of the bed. I definitely gave her the shits. I feel quite bad about it.

Is this too much information? I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to know any of this! I don’t even notice any more because we have grown very comfortable with discussing the less glamorous of our bodily processes over here. The dreaded runs are mentioned at least five times every day – I’d say at least ten now that so many of us are affected and our vocabulary is punctuated by an endless number of words for throwing up. You won’t know how many there are unless you live here.

Still, the day wasn’t bad, exactly – I think I caught up on some sleep I’ve desperately been lacking for the last while and I’m feeling a lot better now! Contemplating eating tomorrow so wish me luck!

Oh, and not only that but it seems the kids were worried about me today which is the sweetest thing. Sonu made me a “Get Well Soon” card and that’s going on the fridge when I go home (a mark of how important that is to me). Hopefully I’ll get to see them tomorrow – I felt bad about bailing on them today.

Now surprisingly I feel quite tired after my day of doing nothing at all so I think I’ll hit the sack. You stay classy, San Diego!