Category Archives: Daily Life

Aravalli Biodiversity Park – a diamond in the rough

When we first moved to New Delhi, someone mentioned a biodiversity park near our house. Tony and I wandered over to the park entrance to check it out, but the seedy-looking men hanging around the gate deterred us. Picturing a big open area with scrubby bushes and sleeping vagrants, we figured we weren’t missing much.

Last week, the subject came up again. Another neighborhood resident insisted it was a nice place to walk and escape from city smells and sounds. Saturday morning, Tony and I gave it another shot. This time, we strolled boldly past the seedy crowd (who actually look normal to us now) and found a single path that wound through real nature for about 2.5 kilometers. With the New Delhi airport a stone’s throw away, planes roared overhead, but otherwise the park proved to be a genuine oasis literally in our backyard!
Biodiversity Park Map2

According to the Biodiversity Parks website, Aravalli Biodiversity Park – or ABP, as we locals call it – comprises 692 acres on the South-Central Ridge of the Aravalli Mountain Range. Its undulating landscape resulted from years of pit mining, which left deep valleys, ridges and hillocks. Conservationists are re-introducing indigenous plants, developing a deciduous forest, and removing invasive trees introduced during the British Raj. The park features a “fernary” with Aravalli ferns (including a few threatened species), an “orchidarium” with about 70 orchid species, a butterfly garden with up to 40 species, 150 acres of grasslands and woodlands, a conservatory for native medicinal plants and a rich wetland ecosystem.

Teeming with wildlife, the park attracts birders and other nature enthusiasts. Excited about our new discovery, Tony went for a run here on Sunday and saw about 50 peacocks!

Environmental consciousness is difficult to foster in a developing country with such glaring poverty. How can you keep people from chopping down trees for cooking fires? How can you stop the killing of wild animals when people are starving? How can you justify spending thousands of dollars to plant flowers when the park backs up to a slum? So often, municipalities take action that provides a short-term solution to escalating problems. I feel optimistic that Delhi has acknowledged the long-term value of protecting and nurturing its green spaces. For Tony and me, the park has already taken our quality of life up a notch. I hope it will do the same for generations of Delhiwallas.

Sariously?!

Why must fabrics in India be so pretty?! How can a girl resist?
420699_10150578446841906_614196905_9116093_2003555686_n

My friend Nancy played host for a little sari party last night. A man, whose name I failed to get in my bling-induced fervor, brought heaps of fabric, saris, lehengas (a long full skirt with belly top), and embroidered salwar kameez suits (long blousy top with Hammer pants).

Nancy took these photos with her phone, mostly with hands shaking from laughter.

This is one of my favorite moments of the evening, when Nancy’s maid, Sonu, took the bindi off her own face and stuck it on Nancy for the full effect.
65780_10150578448271906_1529823265_n

Andi looks like a fairy princess in this lehenga. She wins the prize for best adjective: “bedazz-erific.”
425523_10150578448861906_614196905_9116106_51887272_n

Sandra couldn’t be bothered with asking Sari Man to wrap her properly.
430561_10150578449236906_614196905_9116108_617253018_n

Katrina tried this lehenga on first, but then I tackled her and stole it. Because a girl can’t have too many lehengas … and because my other lehenga is gold and red, and my Chinese feng shui horoscope said I should be wearing more blue to counter my “pitta” fire element. See? I can justify ANY purchase.
430729_10150578447451906_614196905_9116096_1728686604_n

425396_10150578450121906_614196905_9116114_1926801855_n

A walk in the park

After three months of moaning about the cold and smog, I parted the drapes Sunday morning to find blue skies!

Our little park across the street suddenly burst into color with patches of flowers, so I forced my sleestak of a husband to leave the house and stroll through the gardens.

Grass doesn’t seem to interest anyone here, and whoever planted the flowers clearly hasn’t researched what to plant where. For example, marigolds ringed a huge tree, blooming on the sunny side and withering on the shady side, as would be expected. True, too, for the vast stretches of poppies lining the fence.

If we’ve learned anything as global residents, though, it’s that not everyone does things the way WE do things. And that’s OK. And I should stop judging and enjoy the park.

Blue skies!

See, it’s a GOOD thing they don’t cultivate the grass because these cricket-playing kids would just mess it up.

Napping in the sunshine.

Poppies! Beautiful poppies! (Admit it: You can’t say “poppies” without using your Wicked Witch of the West voice. It’s OK. We all do it.)

Ahhh, fresh-ish air!

So much strolling is hard on us senior citizens.

City Slickers in Udaipur

Tony just left for the Marwari Safari, an Indian take on “City Slickers.” He’ll spend five days at the Krishna Ranch near Udaipur, which is southwest of New Delhi, learning horsemanship and exploring the Arravali mountains on horseback … with 19 high school students. His trip is one of several mini-courses offered this week to students at the American Embassy School in New Delhi. They are so lucky!

Never mind that the last time we went horse-back riding, Tony dropped the reins and let his horse eat grass while I cantered in circles around him.

Tony, another teacher, and the kids will ride to Tiger Lake, rural villages, a wildlife sanctuary and several agricultural areas. He may come home a little saddle-sore, but I bet he’ll have some wonderful stories.

Check out the Krishna Ranch website. It looks amazing!

Bumbling through Bollywood

When it comes to dance, I have neither skill nor inhibitions, which explains my tendency to get stupid on the dance floor. I’m happy to settle for laughs if admiration is out of the question. My first Bollywood dance lesson Saturday afternoon was no exception. Dizzy from spinning and unable to keep my lotus fingers pointing in the right direction, I took excessive water breaks and offered encouraging words to my fellow participants.

Gina Shah, a lovely young dancer from Atlanta, is studying classical Indian dance and visiting her sister (whose husband is stationed here with the U.S. Embassy) for the next couple weeks. She accompanied her sister to Nancy’s Zumba class a few times and offered to repay the favor with a private lesson. We met at Nancy’s house and tried to follow Gina’s lead. As you can see here, she’s pretty fantastic!

The other ladies wouldn’t let me post a video with us in the frame. Maybe after a LOT more practice!

Even standing still, my fingers look wonky.
Me and Cristi in the back; Katrina, Gina and Nancy in the front.
(Disclaimer: Nancy is making me point out that she is not pregnant. Her funky harem pants and blouse are just loose and billowy.)

Sari Saturday

Picture this: A teaching assistant on playground duty intercepts a wayward soccer ball, picks it up and hefts it back to the players. Did you picture her in an aqua-colored sari, the skirt swishing around her feet, the loose end tossed over her shoulder and flapping in the breeze? Probably not, but that’s what she was wearing!

Even after seven months in India, I remain entranced by the prevalence of women – from all walks of life – dressed in saris. The long flowing sari seems so cumbersome to me, but Indian women carry it off effortlessly and elegantly.

A sari is a long swath of fabric – up to 9 yards! – wrapped in a specific way without zippers or buttons or pins. Ladies wear a petticoat underneath with a midriff-baring top called a “choli.” Every region of India seems to have its own style of sari, not to mention all the fashion trends and myriad designers. As a foreigner who likely won’t need more than a couple saris, how will I ever choose?

Enter Skye Sanford, elementary music teacher, who has lived here for six years. Saturday morning she led 10 of us on a sari expedition to Babu Market, a section of the popular Sarojini Market. We filed in to Harish Kumar’s shop, sat on the benches and watched as the salesmen slowly pulled sari after sari off the shelves and out of their cellophane bags, unfurling miles of stunning fabric. A sari collector, Skye explained what we were seeing and steered us away from poor quality or unfortunate fashion trends (such as saris made of tulle).

Based on my experience in Turkish carpet shops (flash back to emotional meltdowns and street fights with Tony), I needed to scope out the sari scene a couple times before I buy. I was happy to watch, learn and snap some photos, but I will definitely go back. Who wants to join me?

Salesman at the ready.

The show begins.

Picking favorites.

Skye added two more saris to her collection!

Sandra and Alicia get wrapped.

Eva looks lovely in gray … but I think she bought this style in blue.

Sandra tries on another sari. You can’t do it by yourself!

Decisions, decisions!

The salesmen tossed saris back and forth across the shop.

Sari pile.

A little shrine in the shop.

Alicia ironically pulled out “Real Simple” from her bag …

… at the same time Mr. Kumar tallied the bill.

Walk for Life – we suffer so cancer patients won’t have to

Deep sigh.
I’ve avoided writing this post because (a) I’m trying to block out the experience, and (b) because it’s mean and probably unlucky to write a snarky post about an organization that provides care for cancer patients, right? Right.
So, here goes.

CanSupport, a local organization that provides services for cancer patients, recently set up a registration booth for its annual Walk for Life in the school courtyard where I often eat lunch. I figured, “Sure! I’ll pay $6 to benefit this worthy cause and participate in a blog-worthy event.” An all-staff email encouraged participants to walk together with the AES banner. I looked forward to meeting some colleagues and chatting along the route.

On the morning of Feb. 5, I rode to the Walk for Life with a few other teachers, and we tried in vain to hook up with the rest of the AES group. The starting line was literally mobbed with an estimated 8,000 walkers, and the groups with banners stood on the other side of the mob and past some security tape. How were we supposed to get over there? We never did figure it out.
Security at the entrance.

I wanted a photo of our little group with the sign, but before I could stop them, some clowns jumped in the picture. I’m not a huge fan of clowns.

Waiting with the mob: John, me, Katrina and Lea Carol.

The 4-kilometer walk followed Rajpath, (“King’s Road” in Hindi) a street that runs from Delhi’s iconic India Gate to the president’s house. The India Gate was shrouded in smog, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

Mrs. Gursharan Kaur, wife of the Prime Minister of India, waved the flag to kick off the walk, and we ever so slowly shuffled forward.
And they’re off! Like a herd of turtles.

I discovered that Delhiwallas walk just like they drive: sprint forward quickly, then stop, turn, move on the diagonal, pause, back up, clump together, push others out of your way, and yell a lot. Many walkers brought their dogs. One canine participant left a steaming souvenir right in the path. Luckily, it happened while there was a gap in front of my group, so we saw and dodged the poo bomb. I’m sure others packed in behind us were not so lucky. Groups of school children shrieked the names of their schools over and over … and over … and over. Individuals spotted acquaintances in the distance and screamed out to them repeatedly, despite the obvious sound-drowning effect of the school kids.

At one point, we passed our AES group after a turn-around point. I could have jumped over the security tape that separated the two paths, but I didn’t want to literally cut corners and cheat myself out of doing the whole walk.

To redeem myself for the self-righteous, culturally insensitive, judgmental nature of this post, I will now provide the link to CanSupport and a heartfelt solicitation for your support. It really is an important organization that brings information, comfort, palliative care, medication and equipment subsidies, and counseling to cancer patients and their families.

The best part is there is a “Donate” button so you never ever have to participate in the Walk for Life again. (Unless you have a crowd/dog poo/high-pitched noise/chaos void you need to fill.)

Gond Tribal Artist encounter

A newcomer to India’s art culture, I can only say I love it ALL! Textiles, furniture, paintings, sculpture … every piece I’ve seen bursts with symbolism or cultural nuances that beg for interpretation. With a tradition of visual storytelling, generations of Indians have passed on religious stories, myths, folktales and morality lessons through art. When I heard a visiting artist was sharing his Gond Tribal Art (“Bhiti Chitra” – Wall Art – in Hindi) with elementary school students, I eagerly dashed up two flights of stairs to meet him.

I found Sunil Dhurvey sitting cross-legged on the floor with a painting on a clipboard in his lap and a ink pen in his hand. He looked up and shyly returned my exuberant “Namaste.”
DSC_0375

DSC_0376

Having used up my Hindi, I gratefully engaged Kanika Roy, art teaching assistant, and Rupa Samaria, a Delhi artist and substitute teacher, to translate during my interview.

They explained that Sunil and his wife, Santoshi, had traveled for two days by bus and train from their home in Dindori Village, Madhya Pradesh.
Screen Shot 2012-02-11 at 4.54.09 PM

I wondered if Dindori Village was a hotbed of artists, but Sunil said most of the 400 residents – including himself – are farmers. “Sometimes people ask me, ‘Why do you spend so much time on art? Why don’t you go and work in the field?'” he said. His answer? “I love it.”

Sunil informally learned the techniques of Gond Tribal Art from a young age by watching his mother paint the designs on walls and floors of village buildings, especially for festivals, weddings and other celebrations.

According to an article by Venus Vinod Upadhayaya on the LifePositive website,

Originally done with four-coloured mud found in the forest, the Gond tribal paintings were drawn on the walls of the houses and were an integral part of the tribal festivity, rituals, and day-to-day living. … Gonds believe that (the) Narmada (river) was once a woman and was married to the Sonmura river. During the marriage rituals, the turmeric from her body fell down on the earth and created the yellow mud. The black mud was collected from within the tribal village whereas the white had to be fetched from another forest nearby. Both men and women would paint on the walls. The original drawings on the cowdung-smeared walls were scenes from the forest and its creatures, and depictions of traditional dances and tribal deities.

By the age of 12, Sunil said, he was creating his own art. I asked if he would be a mentor to younger aspiring artists, but he shook his head. Kanika elaborated, “Usually in the villages they don’t teach young ones how to paint this type of art. They just watch and they learn. If they are painting on a building, they think about what would go with that type of building. For example, if they are painting the storage building for grain, they might paint birds or mice because those animals are likely to be found there.”

Sunil displayed small paintings on cardstock and larger ones on canvas. He said the Gond Tribal Art style is known for its depictions of stories about nature (especially the Narmada River), mythological characters and gods, and daily life. Rupa pointed to one of his paintings, hanging on the classroom whiteboard, and said, “This is a typical village scene with the women fishing and the men cutting the rock. The rocks are used to create a trap in the river. They catch fish and put them in the baskets.”
DSC_0373

In this photo, Santoshi and Sunil show some of their works. Santoshi painted the ones on the table, and she said they represent the kinds of work she does on village buildings. I wish I had taken a second shot as Sunil really has a lovely smile! Sunil’s mother still paints, and he even brought one of her pieces (but it had already sold by the time I met him).
DSC_0374

I bought these two peacock paintings from Sunil for about $10 each, but the wonderful experience of getting to know the artist before buying his work was priceless.
DSC_0381

DSC_0377

Such fun detail!
DSC_0379

If you are in India, speak Hindi and want to see Sunil’s work, give him a call: 0-88894-08539

Indian Catwalk

“Discover India Week” just wrapped up at the American Embassy School, and what an incredible week it was!

My favorite event was the Indian Textile and Fashion Show, a flurry of swirling silks and sequins. With an Indian wedding theme, volunteers took on the roles of family members and guests at the party. I was originally slated to be the bride; however, I was demoted to “sister of the groom” when the organizer discovered we had a real bride in our midst. The fashion show became a lively dress rehearsal for Punam, an elementary school receptionist, and her fiance, Daniel, a first-grade teacher, who will tie the knot in April.

The day before the fashion show, participating ladies were invited to a “mehendi” party in the office of Sharon Lowen, head of Indian Studies at AES. Two young ladies sat on low stools with pillows on their laps to draw henna patterns on our hands. They use small bags, similar to cake decorating tubes, full of a substance the consistency of mud. The ladies finished their designs in about five minutes.

Wet and messy. The table was overflowing with fruit and samosas, but I couldn’t pick them up! Next time, I won’t rush to be first in line.

When the “mehendi” dried, it started flaking off all over my clothes. I carefully draped my backpack over one shoulder, caught an auto-rickshaw home, and put on a pair of old gloves. When it was time to get ready for bed, I brushed off the remaining mud, rubbed on some baby oil (the “mehendi” ladies said to use mustard oil, as if I would just have some in my cupboard), and slept with socks on my hands. This is what it looked like in the morning:

The fashion show gave me a reason to wear my fabulous lehenga, which had been stashed in my closet since Diwali.

Here is a slideshow of the fashion show participants. The bright lights washed out some details, but everyone looks smashing in Indian clothes!

After the “bride” and “groom” made their appearance, dance music filled the gym.

Soon the bleachers emptied as a full-on dance party broke out with children and teachers twirling and shaking to the Hindi tunes. It seemed out of control, but students quickly responded when the assistant principal announced it was time to return to class. Amazing.

AES Faculty Musical – so many levels of special

As a new teacher at the American Embassy School last fall, I remember the stress of setting up our home, learning the ropes at my job, trying to make friends, budgeting in a strange currency, and otherwise wondering whether this place was a good match. Suffering from Sporty Gene Deficit Disorder and no longer a fan of late-night partying, I automatically excluded myself from several big social groups. Would I find a niche here? Then someone asked, “Are you auditioning for the staff musical?” Um, heck yeah!

I subscribe to Shakespeare’s quip that “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” Daily life, particularly in India, offers plenty of color and costumes, music and mayhem, dancing and drama. Yet I can’t deny this girl loves the stage and everything that goes with it. Since the first meeting of our community theatre guild, I knew I had found my niche. Maybe it’s cheesy, but participating in this silly play kept my spirits high and gave me opportunities to bond with people I wouldn’t have otherwise known. It felt like a place where I could fit in, and I loved every minute of it.

Beth Burrows, a third-grade teacher at AES, started the theatre guild and pours her passion into it year after year. It’s a hobby, but also a community service project. This year, “Beauty and the Beast” ticket sales collected about $4,000 for the Salaam Balaak Trust, an organization that provides shelter, education, health care and mental health services for homeless children in New Delhi.

Tim Steadman, an AES spouse and professional photographer, volunteered to shoot our performances, and his photos are fantastic! I strung together a few in this short video. As Silly Girl 3, my part was fun, albeit small. I am wildly overrepresented in this video – but hey! – it’s my blog. In yet another horn-tooting comment, I’ll point out that I painted all the the cutlery and other kitchen objects on the white kurtas (Indian shirts) worn in the musical numbers “Be Our Guest” and “Human Again.” With a lot of guidance and confidence-building from Patricia Podorsek, I also painted on the Beast’s make-up each night. Although I have a teaching certification in theatre, it’s been years since I tapped that knowledge or those skills deep in the recesses of my mind. What a treat to discover I hadn’t lost it all!

And so, the curtain has closed. For now. Next year: “Annie.”
The sun will come out tomorrow …