Category Archives: India

Girls Get-away: Udaipur

November 8, 2014 Sharon Leave a comment

Just an hour’s flight from Delhi, and I awoke to this view.

I spent the Diwali weekend in Udaipur with friends from Shanghai, Colleen and Ronna, and their daughters. Col now works in Hong Kong, but Ronna joined the AES staff this year, so we’re colleagues again. Small world!

We stayed at the Radisson Blu, which overlooked the Fateh Sagar Lake.

Although relatively peaceful by India standards, the pool and restaurant were completely overrun by young children. Fortunately, we were upgraded to suites and had plenty of room to spread out and lounge. We escaped from the noisy restaurant to enjoy leisurely breakfasts outside under a canopy of morning glory.

The staff created Diwali rangoli in the lobby, and we were told to vote on our favorite.
“I like them both,” I said. “I can’t pick.”
“You must,” said a bossy supervisor.

On our first day, we caught a couple tuk-tuks to the City Palace. Walking to the gate, we had a nice view of the Lake Palace, now a Taj Hotel. A rich lady who attends my yoga class in Delhi had encouraged me to stay there. Last I checked, the cheapest room was about $730 a night … so … yeah.

Ronna and Ava.

Brenna, you teeny thing, no need to “mind your head.”

I couldn’t resist hiring a guide at the gate. I am, after all, The Guide Hog. (See my previous post about my Guide Hog Jr.)

Here’s what we learned: Maharana Udai Singh, 53rd ruler of the Mewar Dynasty, founded the city of Udaipur after a holy man advised him to build his palace on the hill. He started construction of the palace complex in 1559 on the east bank of Lake Pichola, and successive kings added on to the palace for the next 300+ years.

Just nine years after moving to Udaipur, Udai Singh lost his kingdom to Mughal Emperor Akbar (grandfather of Shahjahan, who build the Taj Mahal). In 1572, Udai Singh’s son Pratap led a Rajput army against Akbar’s forces in the legendary Battle of Haldighati. The palace museum features paintings of this battle, as well as a statue of Pratap’s horse, Chetak, wearing an elephant mask. Our guide, Mr. Singh, explained that in battle, neither horses nor elephants will charge a baby elephant. So Chetak’s disguise bought time for his rider. Chetak died in the battle, but despite being fatally wounded, he carried Pratap to safety. The Rajputs later won back their freedom and territory from the Mughals.

Built of granite and marble, the complex comprises 11 interconnected palaces that reflect European, Chinese, Rajasthani and Mughal architecture with cake-topper cupolas, multi-level balconies, carved lacy screens, gardens, terraces, colonnades, and fountains. A couple sections of the palace now operate as heritage hotels.

According to Wikipedia:

Once India got independence in 1947, the Mewar Kingdom, along with other princely states of Rajasthan, merged with the Democratic India, in 1949. The Mewar Kings subsequently also lost their special royal privileges and titles. However, the successor Maharanas have enjoyed the trust of their people and also retained their ownership of the palaces in Udaipur. They are now running the palaces by creating a trust, called the Mewar Trust, with the income generated from tourism and the heritage hotels that they have established in some of their palaces. With the fund so generated they are running charitable hospitals, educational institutions and promoting the cause of environmental preservation

A cardboard cutout of Bhupal Singh, paralyzed at the age of 16, tells that he was the first Rajasthani ruler to sign an Instrument of Accession to join the new Union of India in 1948 and the last Mewar ruler to reside in the palace.

Mr. Singh pointed out that the Mewar people worshipped the Sun God, which explains the big suns displayed on the exterior and interior of the palace.

Following our tour, we met up with our tuk-tuk drivers and tried to find a shopping street promoted in several guidebooks. The city was bustling with Diwali shoppers and festival preparation.

This lady was decorating the stoop in front of her bangle shop, where Brenna hit the jackpot.

Holiday shoppers and honking vehicles filled the streets, sidewalks and markets. Amjan, one of the tuk-tuk drivers, stopped a few times to ask if we wanted to get out and walk around. No thanks!

We saw a sign for “rooftop restaurant,” so we climbed about five flights of steep narrow stairs only to find ONE table at the very top! The owner offered us a menu, but it seemed a bit sketchy.

Poor Amjan. I could tell he was frustrated that we couldn’t decide what to do. The crowds were too daunting. We finally asked him to take us to an Indian restaurant, where we had a nice late lunch before heading back to the hotel for the rest of the evening. We hunkered down with cocktails and snacks on the hotel’s deck, but before we knew it, Diwali entertainers were setting up a puppet show. Halfway into the show, we realized we were the only adults in the front row.

The style of puppetry is called “Kathputli,” an artform purported to be more than 1,000 years old. At our puppet show, a man climbed onto the platform and stayed hidden the whole time, manipulating the puppets, while a woman sat cross-legged next to the makeshift theater, drumming and singing along. I thought the puppeteer was playing tunes on a kazoo, but the website PuppetIndia.com illuminated me:

Rajasthan puppets have their own unique speciality. Puppeteers manipulate the puppets with a whistling, squeaking voice and are interpreted by a narrator who also provides the rhythms. The puppets have no legs and movements are free. Their bodies and limbs are made of mango wood and stuffed with cotton. A slight jerk of the string causes the puppets to produce movements of the hands, neck and shoulder. Many puppets hang on one rope: one string tied to the head and other to the waist. The puppeteer makes a loop around his fingers and manipulates the puppet. He takes ghungru (bells) in his hands and plays it according to rhythm. These puppets have a very limited vocabulary, so the movements play a very important part. Puppets are moved towards each other with speed and with swords in their hands in fighting postures. Greetings and salutations are done by bending the puppets and leaving their arms to hang loosely.

Our second day in Udaipur involved a lot of chilling out, followed by our cooking class with Shashi. We returned to Delhi Saturday morning so Col and Brenna catch their flight back to Hong Kong. Before they left, though, we spent a couple hours at a salon getting pampered.

For more photos from our get-away weekend, check out my flickr album: Udaipur.

India, On the Road

Cooking with Shashi in Udaipur

November 8, 2014 Sharon Leave a comment

It’s no secret that I’m hopeless in the kitchen. Still, I’ve discovered cooking classes provide unique cultural insights and bring a sense of humanity to any place I visit.

When Col and Brenna asked about a cooking class in India, I looked online and found Shashi’s Cooking Classes in Udaipur. It looked a bit amateurish (“For a mouth open dive into the marvelous flavors of Rajasthan…”), but she got good reviews on TripAdvisor.

After a couple confusing phone calls regarding the class time, a tuk-tuk picked us up around 2 p.m. for the short ride to Shashi’s home. Ronna and Ava stayed behind to enjoy the hotel spa (which, unfortunately, turned out to be less than enjoyable). We joined a group from Ireland, who were in good spirits despite getting whacked with Varanasi’s version of Delhi belly during their train journey to Udaipur. (The only thing worse that Delhi belly is Delhi belly on a train.)

We all crowded into Shashi’s kitchen, where she demonstrated how to make masala chai and many delicious dishes. Following along in our photocopied recipe booklets, we stirred, sautéed, dipped veggies into pakora batter, rolled dough into chappatis and eventually sat down to eat it all. My favorites included the potato and onion pakora with mango chutney, aubergine and tomato masala, and the potato parantha. Yum!

Shashi learned English through her interactions with tourists, and although she often pointed to the recipe on the page, she admitted she couldn’t read English. She simply memorized where each recipe was located in the packet! Her life had been hard, but her spirits were high. Growing up in a village, she had only ever cooked in clay pots over an open fire before her arranged marriage brought her to the city. When her husband was murdered by a business partner, she struggled to support herself and her children. Her cooking classes provided the emotional and financial boost she needed. Whereas touristy cooking classes usually wrap up and send participants home, Shashi seemed happy to hang out and chat as the evening wore on. We stayed till almost 7:30 p.m. and likely would have lingered longer, but we knew Ronna and Ava were waiting back at the hotel.

Brenna and Col enjoying their tea.

Shashi and her amazing box of spices.

Shiny gets ready to sauté some onions.

I’m just here for the photo opps.

Shashi’s son, Ashish (right), is getting married soon, and there was some disconcerting talk about how Brenna was just the right size for Shashi’s nephew.

Rolling chappatis (which are the same as rotis, in case you’re wondering).

Full hearts and tummies.

Here is Shashi’s masala chai recipe:
Serves 1 glass
Ingredients
* 1 glass of milk
* a quarter glass of water
* 2 heaped tablespoons of sugar
* 1 tablespoon of black tea (Indian Darjeeling tea is the best.)
Either
* a pinch of Masala Tea Powder (10 grams each of dry basil, nutmeg, dry ginger, cardamom and black pepper)
Or
* 2 pieces of cardamom
* 4 black peppercorns
* a fingernail of fresh ginger
Method
1. If using the fresh ingredients rather than the Masala Tea Powder, then grind the cardamom, black pepper and ginger roughly in a mortar and pestle.
2. Add all ingredients into a small saucepan and place on the stove.
3. Bring it to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer for approximately four minutes, stirring occasionally. The chai should start to turn a coffee brown color, and you should start to smell the cardamom and other flavors of the masala.
4. Once it is done, pour the tea into a glass through a strainer to remove the tea and other solid pieces left behind.

Daily Life, India

Fun with an old friend – and her kid?

October 26, 2014 Sharon Leave a comment

International friends often comment about how we just pick up where we left off whenever we get back together. We vacation in each other’s countries, crash at each other’s houses, and use each other as tour guides after years apart. The elephant in the room is this: How will our friends’ KIDS change over the years? And will we WANT them to visit?

One of my close friends in Shanghai was a New Jersey gal named Colleen (aka Col, Shiny, Shiny Pop Pow, Sheila Pot Pie and who knows what else?). Her daughter Brenna was in early elementary school at the time and had some mighty fine dance moves, not to mention prehensile toes like mine that she could spread apart or use to pick up objects. Our favorite story about Brenna continues to make its way around the world and epitomizes what it means to be a Third Culture Kid. Her grade 2 spelling test featured weather words, but instead of “typhoon,” she wrote, “Thai food.”

Of course this story surfaced last week when Shiny brought Brenna to India for their fall break last week. “I even asked two times,” she recalled. “‘Really? Thai food?’ and Ms. Nutting said, ‘Yes! Typhoon.’ But I heard, ‘Thai food.'”

I hadn’t seen Brenna since both our families left Shanghai in 2009.
Here she was in 2006.

And here we are comparing toes back then.

Here she is now with her mom.

I forgot to ask about her toes or her latest dance moves, but I can say that she blew me away with her curiosity and enthusiasm, maturity and confidence, sense of humor and knowledge of India. More than once, someone would ask a question about Indian history, food or religion, and Brenna would have the answer. Amazing! I must admit my heart swelled when she badgered our tour guide with questions at the Udaipur Palace. I do believe I’ve found my Guide Hog Jr.

Oh, I was also thrilled to see Shiny! But I knew I would be.

I wasn’t so sure how I’d feel about spending my weekend with a teenager. I adored LITTLE Brenna, but … you know, now she’s a TEENAGER. What a glorious relief to say I loved every minute of my time with her, and I can’t wait to see both of those goofy, gorgeous girls again soon.

India, Uncategorized

Devil’s Circuit – down and dirty in Delhi

October 24, 2014 Sharon Leave a comment

October 12, 2014

Last year, an adventurous group of AES teachers participated in a local mud run. I asked if they passed out Z-packs at the end of the race and joked that the free beer should include a shot of hepatitis vaccine. I mean, Delhi is a dirty city in the best of times. We take off our shoes when we come in the house. We rinse off our feet if we step in puddles. Do I really want to intentionally roll around in Delhi mud? Then … an email announcing this year’s event appeared in my mailbox, and this time I couldn’t control my hyperactive FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). Before I knew it, I had sent a “reply all” adding my name to the list of participants.

Today was the day. The Devil’s Circuit.

With an eye on the “best costume” prize, our leader and first-grade teacher, Kate, urged us all to dress in school colors or otherwise promote the AES Tigers. She had tiger tails and hats made for us. I wore knee-length yellow and white socks (which were yellow no more within minutes), an AES “Game Day” T-shirt, my tail and tiger hat. Middle school drama teacher Beth brought the face paint and managed to decorate much of our crew despite the bumpy bus ride.

Clint got a very scary tiger mask made.

After a very long bus ride, we arrived at Wave City, where the sign reads, “Welcome to the city that thinks for you.” Here’s the scoop from the Wave City website:

Wave City is one of India’s largest Smart Cities, which is spread across an impressive 4500 acres. It is built on the Smart City concept by IBM. World renowned AECOM is its Town planner & Landscape designer. Wave City is constructed keeping in mind contemporary design and new–age architecture. With the luxury of open spaces and modern designs, this city ensures a pampered, secure and luxurious lifestyle. It boasts of more than 750 acres of green spaces, wide roads & congestion-free BRT network for smooth traffic flow, mechanized garbage control systems, fiber optic connectivity for each resident, 24×7 security systems, healthcare provisions including hospitals, medical university, ISKCON Temple, educational institutions, local shopping centers, malls and multiplexes – among many other facilities. It is a city full of vigor and vitality, which makes it the perfect place to enjoy a comfortable, convenient and uncluttered lifestyle.

Ummm… right. We didn’t see much “vigor and vitality.” But there was tilled parched earth as far as the eye could see with an occasional little park and clusters of concrete buildings. Lots of signs promoted communities of the future, such as Greenwood Enclave. It’s hard to imagine any enclave here being green or woody. For some reason, roadblocks prevented our bus from using the marked route to the Devil’s Circuit. We actually went off road, rocking and bumping on a pitted dirt path, to reach the race.

This sign cracks me up! That “sample built-up” ain’t gonna happen.

Right off the bat, we slogged through thick slippery mud, climbing over or ducking under hurdles. I skipped quite a few of the obstacles, particularly those that predictably plopped competitors into a mud pit. However, I did conquer a few, including:
* hopping across wooden poles stuck upright in the mud,
* climbing a wall and rappelling down the back,
* scurrying up, over and down a rope spider web arch,
* pulling myself out of a deep pit with mud up to my shins,
* scooting across a beam stretched over a mud pit while holding hands with my friend Beth, who was doing the same on a parallel beam, and
* carrying a sand bag from point A to point B (I dumped out about half the sand … shhh.).

Wow, I’m racking my brain and I can’t think of any more. I started to tackle the monkey bars, but the bars were too big and wet to grip, so I quickly gave up. I managed to stay dry from the knees up until we came to the last obstacle. There we had to lie down face-up in a muddy trench and use the chain link fence covering the opening to pull ourselves through the water to the exit. We emerged completely soaked and muddy. The finish line included a tank of icy cold water. We climbed out, shook our tails for the cameras and then claimed our participation medals. As the only group in costumes, we also won the costume contest!

Brave Tami!

Kate and Kathryn came up with a creative way to get across the pit, so Beth and I followed suit.

More pics.

The Devil’s Circuit Facebook Page featured this shot of us as their banner for a few days. Pretty hilarious!

India

On the quest for Dussehra Demons

October 4, 2014 Sharon 1 Comment

Last week I joined a walking tour to see the massive effigies under construction for today’s Dussehra celebrations. However, I just realized I’ve never blogged about Dussehra! So, first things first.

The Hindu religious epic Ramayana depicts the life of Rama, an incarnation of the god Vishnu, who ultimately defeats the evil Ravana, the demon king of Lanka, after a 10-day battle. Dussehra is the day to celebrate that victory.

This short video by WildFilmsIndia summarizes the epic and its relevance in India today.

All over India, village actors re-create the life of Ram in performances called Ramlila. The show culminates in an explosive spectacle when Ram’s fiery arrow ignites the towering effigies of Ravana and his son and brother. Fireworks built into the monumental bamboo frames blast from the bodies, spiraling and whistling, showering sparks and ash over the cheering audience.

Somebody has to build those effigies. But where? And how? Surekha of Delhi Metro Walks was ready to answer our questions. We met at the Patel Chowk metro station and had to change trains at Rajiv Chowk. That’s where we encountered a mob apparently attacking the glass police booth. (See the article below.) Delayed and blocked from getting to our train, we instead hopped aboard a train going the other direction, got off after one stop and switched to the other side to get going the right way.

When we finally stepped off the metro at Tagore Garden, we looked down from the platform to see the street lined with dismembered effigies.

Unfortunately, thanks to the metro mob, we arrived just before sunset. We hurriedly dashed up one side of the street, watching men stick foil designs on what looked like massive torsos, and then crossed the street to snap photos of the giant heads. In the dwindling light, we watched workers dab paint on the faces, glue paper on bamboo frames, and load the body parts onto trucks and tuk-tuks.

Check out my flickr album to see more photos.

Click on D’source to learn the steps in making a Ramlila effigy.

Here’s an article from the Hindustan Times about the brouhaha we encountered at the metro stop.

Daily Life, India

fruit salad for the soul

October 4, 2014 Sharon Leave a comment

I wrote this on Sept. 6, but in my sleep-deprived haze, I obviously forgot to publish it. So here it is… update to follow soon.

After one month back in Delhi, Tony and I both feel wrecked.

Our two cats, Khushi and Ella have spent many holidays without us, lovingly accompanied by our housekeeper Raji. However, something went wrong over the summer. We may never know what it was, but we returned to find Khushi nearly emaciated, bristling with anxiety and incontinent.

Ella seemed unscathed, other than apparent confusion over her sister’s sudden personality change, and is still as playful and affectionate as ever.

Poor Raji swears nothing bad happened to Khushi. She says the cat just started crying a lot and peeing outside the litterbox shortly after we left for the States. In typical Indian fashion, she didn’t want to upset us by emailing the details. Instead, I got an automated email from the vet: “Dear Khushi, Thank you for your visit!” When I wrote to Raji back in July, she admitted taking Khushi to the vet but assured me all was well. It wasn’t.

In addition to the manic schedule as we geared up for the start of school (administering language assessments to applicants, helping new teachers learn the ropes, unpacking my stuff after moving classrooms, preparing for our EAL consultant’s visit, etc.), we took Khushi to the vet every evening for an antibiotic injection and a sedative. The drug wore off within a couple hours, so we took turns staying with her in the locked guest room all night, where she howled and prowled and otherwise didn’t sleep. The noise, the worry, the stress over where she would pee next kept us awake night after night.

We tried a different vet, who explained the possibility that a botched sterilization could lead to similar symptoms. If any bits of her reproductive system had been left inside when she was spayed, she could still be going into heat. We watched to see whether her behavior was cyclical. And we continued to spend our nights awake and stressed out.

For a few days, it seemed Khushi was getting better, and then she peed on Tony’s briefcase.

We called yet another vet. This one made house calls. He came over last Sunday night and gently examined Khushi. He suggested we try some anti-anxiety drugs. In the States, a month’s worth of Alprazolam costs about $100. In Delhi, we got 20 pills for 50 rupees, which is 83 cents. They only come in people form here, so I have to cut one pill into eighths, so that 83 cents bought us 160 days of treatment! On the other hand, I ordered Feliway (“a synthetic copy of the feline facial pheromone, used by cats to mark their territory as safe and secure – the secret to happy cats!”) from amazon, and my mom sent it by UPS at the cost of $145, so I guess it all balances out. At this point, we’ll pay anything for some sleep.

Khushi, waking up from a nap. Must be nice.

I’m on the brink of tears at any given moment, and Tony paces around the house, wide-eyed and snappy. That’s why, this morning, too exhausted to contemplate making breakfast, I almost crumpled to the floor with happiness to find this.

Raji had left a weekend’s worth of cut-up fruit: papaya, mango, apples, pears, pomegranate and oranges, plus a banana on the side. I hardly put forth any effort, short of opening the yogurt and brewing a pot of coffee. It was fruit salad for the soul.

Stay tuned. We hope to have news of a back-to-normal cat in the coming weeks.

India, On the Road

Summer Flashback: Tony visits our Tibetan “godchild”

August 18, 2014 Sharon 1 Comment

In 2012, I visited the Tibetan Children’s Village in Dharamsala and felt compelled to sponsor a student. We were assigned a little girl named Tenzin Nordon, who lives at another TCV campus in southern India.

Tenzin writes to us a few times a year, enclosing cute drawings and notes written in marker. Her letters used to start with “Dear Sponsor,” but lately she’s switched to “Dear Godmother,” which feels more than a bit misguided.

Tony and I talked for a year about visiting Tenzin, so we finally scheduled a long weekend get-away to Bylakuppe, home to thousands of exiled Tibetans in the Indian state of Karnataka. Our trip was scheduled for mid-May. We shopped for gifts, picking up a rubik’s cube, a couple board games, an art project and some clothes. Tony was remarkably savvy at shopping for a 12-year-old girl.

Unfortunately, I was sent to Washington D.C. that weekend to sort out my Indian work visa, so Tony had to make the trip alone. I’ll let Tony tell the story.

Me: Describe the journey.
Tony: We landed in Bangalore and a driver met me for a 7-hour ride to Kushalnagar (the nearest town to the TCV school). When I landed, I felt like I was in the desert. I looked around and things were pretty darn barren. The air was cleaner than in Delhi, but there was a quietness, a lifelessness. But by the time we got to Kushalnagar, I have never in life seen such fertile land.

There were fruit stands everywhere. There was no poverty like you see in Delhi. It seemed everyone had food and everyone was being used productively; everyone had a job. There were truckloads of mangoes everywhere, and everywhere you looked there were giant coffee plantations and bananas growing. Stall after stall of produce. There were mango stands with five or six or seven different kinds of mangoes, stacked up in pyramids.

I just kept thinking the wrong person had made it to this beautiful paradise; I knew how much you would love it. (Sharon’s comment: Mangoes are my favorite fruit, and Tony doesn’t even LIKE them! So unfair.) The cows were really healthy looking. Fat and clean and well fed. The women weren’t wearing western clothes. They were wearing Indian clothes and they were smiling and happy, and because the area was so busy, they were all carrying things on their heads. It was a long drive, but after about four hours, I saw a Kentucky Fried Chicken and Costa Coffee, so I had a KFC sandwich and French fries. It was out in the middle of nowhere. You couldn’t just drive past it.

I stayed at this amazing hotel – Amanvana Luxury Boutique Spa Resort – that had an Alice in Wonderland theme in every room. Every time you had tea or went to the spa, there were these little allusions to Through the Looking Glass. There were murals on the walls, and they left copies of the books around. It was me and groups of Indian women on holiday. They gave me a big Indian breakfast, and we had a Indian buffet at night. It was pretty darn spicy.

Me: So I booked a day of sight-seeing for us. Did you take advantage of it?
Tony: I went to some coffee plantations in the morning. They were huge, owned by Nestle. It was a holiday, so there wasn’t much going on. My guide and I got out and walked up and down the fields. He talked to some women who were working in the fields, and he told me some facts about how much coffee they produce. But the show they give to tourists didn’t happen, and there were no English speakers.
I also went to an elephant sanctuary, and I had to take a ferry ride across a river to get there.

They walked the elephants down to the river and bathed them and they let people who were so inclined bathe the elephants and interact with them. I was actually kind of sad because they were hobbled with big heavy chains, and some of the people in charge of the elephants were young boys and they weren’t gentle or kind. They didn’t have any compassion for the animals.

Everybody was there to see the elephants, and a lot of people were looking at me, too. I enjoyed seeing the people from all over India. I got to see all different styles of dress and mannerisms, and they didn’t sound the same as people from Delhi.

Me: Then did you go to the TCV school the next day?
Tony: I had a big breakfast and packed up the little presents for Tenzin. Mr. Dorji (the sponsorship secretary) showed me all over the school – the computer center, which they were really proud of; the dormitory, where all the girls stay; the preschool classrooms.

He introduced me to a preschool teacher and he said she had been HIS teacher when he was little. He had grown up at this campus.

I got to meet several of the secretaries and they told me the history of the school. An Englishman who died recently was the first head of the school in 1981. It impressed me that someone could do something like that and it would survive long after he was gone. I thought about the countless lives he improved.

I met Tenzin, and she seemed happy and popular and curious. She was very appreciative but very very shy. I got to say hello to a few of her friends, and I watched their morning assembly. I got to hear them sing their own national anthem and the Indian one.

Me: What stuck with you after touring the school?
Tony: The kids don’t have much stuff, and they have a limited amount of space. They have a few clothes and a few little personal things. I can tell that they never had any privacy. Yet they were happy and cheerful and laughing, and everything they did have was clean and nice. It made me happy to support this institution because I could tell they were taking good emotional care of the kids.

Me: Anything else?
Tony: I was just sad I didn’t have you there to share it with. That’s the emotion that pervaded the whole thing because I knew how much you would have enjoyed it.

Daily Life, India

Getting over it

August 3, 2014 Sharon 4 Comments

Sometimes the only way I can remember what has happened in my life is to read over past posts on this blog. Using that strategy, it would appear I entered the witness protection program in March as I have written nothing since then. In fact, I’ve just been in a funk. I don’t think I realized how much of a funk it was until now. The 2013-14 school year brought a number of changes and surprises. Nothing tragic. But stressful nonetheless. Ever transient, many international friends and colleagues moved on, leaving a void and the inevitable melancholy that comes with realizing you didn’t know how good it was till it was gone. As I awaited a change in my visa status, I was limited to domestic travel in India, and although I hadn’t planned a vacation abroad, the restriction felt like a noose around my neck. Resentment and general crankiness washed over me. Once in Michigan for our summer break, we looked forward to quickly wrapping up our lakehouse renovation. In fact, we had arranged for the painters to complete the interior, exterior and deck restoration before we even left India. Mother Nature refused to cooperate, however, dumping week after week of rain and delaying the painting (which delayed the carpeting and the furniture delivery and the decorating) until the end of June. In addition, we had to cram a year’s worth of home maintenance into two months, including plumbing repairs, installation of a new water heater, rebuilding a broken fence, troubleshooting the sprinkler system, and so on. We spent about five weeks tethered to the unfinished house, waiting to find out whether and when contractors would arrive. By the time we felt relaxed enough to sit on the deck, beer in hand, contractor-free, only two weeks remained before our return flight to Delhi. Writing this, I realize how silly it all sounds. Back when I was a journalist, I would have scoffed to hear such whining. Yet now I know. International teaching – maybe ALL teaching (you tell me, Stateside teachers) – exhausts every ounce of your mental and physical energy. By the end of the school year, you feel fulfilled – but depleted. Rather than releasing me from the school year’s stress, our summer responsibilities tightened the knots in my shoulders. I yearned to spend mindless hours biking on the woodsy trails, taking yoga classes, shopping, paddling in the lake with my nephews, hanging out with my parents, taking day trips to explore our new home state, reading in the shade of a deck umbrella, catching up with old friends, and otherwise finding my balance. Finally, our annual trip to Stratford, Ontario, approached. “We can’t go!” I moaned. “I’m too stressed out. I just want to sit and do nothing!” But we went. And weirdly, as we drove over the Port Huron Bridge, we both felt our anxiety lift. Oh Canada! Just getting away from our house for a few days helped us regain perspective. Laughing with special friends from our Shanghai days, seeing a few plays at the Shakespeare Festival, chatting with the bed and breakfast owners, and walking, walking, walking. Finally, we could breathe again. Back in Michigan, we ate dinner outside every night. I played and cuddled with my nephews as much as possible. I ate pie and homemade ice-cream and fed the ducks and entertained a few visitors. Then it was time to pack up, store the paddleboat, roll up the carpets and head to the airport. So here I am, in New Delhi, ready to face another school year with a happy heart.

India, On the Road, Uncategorized

Goan fisherman steal the show on ‘dolphin trip’

March 22, 2014 Sharon Leave a comment

Early Friday morning, a longboat arrived at the beach in front of our bungalow. Similar to a large canoe, it featured an outboard motor and a wooden outrigger cobbled together with yellow rope. Marianna and I waded through the water to climb into the boat, and sat while the older fisherman and his young assistant remained in the water waiting for a break in the waves before pushing the boat back out to sea for our “dolphin trip.”

We motored to the edge of the bay, occasionally pausing to scan the sea for dolphins. A few fins surfaced. An arched back, a flip of a tail. Maybe five dolphins in all, including a baby. After the excitement of our dolphin encounter in the Maldives last year, this was rather anticlimactic.

Our captain maneuvered his little craft toward a larger boat, where men were hauling in a huge red net jumping with sardines. About ten skinny workers clad in underpants and tank tops clustered at the stern, pulling the net hand-over-hand, their upper bodies bowing jerkily up and down, brown legs tensing with the effort. They sang as they worked, a repetitive chorus in response to a leader’s verse. Our boatmen chuckled, and the younger man noted how singing makes work easier. I almost asked what the song meant, but I worried the lyrics might be embarrassing to translate. Instead, I asked how long it would take to finish the job. About one and a half hours, he replied.

As the song continued, empty net piled at the fishermen’s feet and captive fish were forced into the remaining space at the sea’s surface. Trapped, the sardines leapt and splashed, some catapulting out of the net and back to freedom, some flipping into the claws of swooping brahminy kites. The brown-and-white birds circled the boat, stealing frantic fish – both at sea level and in the air. Near collisions and threatening shrieks resulted in surrender, fish falling from loosened claws, snatched from the sky by the aggressor.

I hadn’t brought my camera on our brief excursion, but the image would have made a brilliant photo. The paint-peeling fishing boat, bobbing in a jade sea, dark bodies bent over crimson nets, small orange buoys evenly spaced along the net’s edge floating amorphously around the boat, a blazing neon sun rising over the forested hills that jut up from the beach, and birds of prey suspended like a mobile overhead.

Here’s a photo of a brahminy kite taken by Johan Stenlund and posted on his website, Birds in India/Goa. Now imagine scores of them circling the fishing boat!

Here’s a photo of a fishing boat at our beach, similar to the one that took us on our “dolphin trip.”

India, On the Road

Goa-geous spring break!

March 20, 2014 Sharon Leave a comment

After countless vacations at the various baby-powder beaches of Thailand, I have developed a serious case of Beach Snobitis. I have high expectations for cleanliness of sand and sea, pleasant water temperatures, spectacular panoramas, and local flavor. I also have little tolerance for drunken backpackers, cigarette butts, and loud late-night music. Stranded in India until certain visa issues get resolved, I grudgingly agreed to Spring Break on the beach in Goa with my friend Marianna. Generally an optimist, I was, nevertheless, prepared for disappointment.

We arrived Tuesday afternoon at H2O Agonda for five nights in a beachfront bungalow. Realizing our hut abutted the thatch-roofed restaurant, I immediately protested. Most beach hotels cater to the party crowd, and I am too old for that. Insomnia is my constant companion; I don’t need help from the hotel bar. Unfortunately, no other bungalows were available, so we moved in to the space, which is equally split between a bedroom and an open-air bathroom.

I’ll spare you the suspense: This place is wonderful! The loudest sound is the crashing surf. Aside from an occasional cow patty, the sandy beach is clean and mostly litter-free. At one end, boulders rise up in clusters, begging to be climbed. I splashed into the warm sea this morning to find turbulent water and powerful breakers, perfect for body surfing. Eventually worn out, I sat at the edge of the tide, drizzling wet sand onto my legs and letting the waves wash over me.

I guess I can handle this for a few more days.

Adventures in Teaching and Travel