The Black Hole of India

I wanted to write a little bit about this topic because I think it’s important.  We visited a monument by this name in Kolkata.

In the early stages of the English invasion of India, Fort William, an English base, was attacked by the local Indians and taken over.  According to history 123 English men were piled on top of each other in a small room the size of a cell.  All were dead by the next day.  Once news of this reached England the public was outraged, changing their view on India and its people:  they were savages.  The English government now had permission to use any force necessary to take over India.  And they did with force indeed.  Looking back now historians believe this event may not have occurred at all, or it may have been severely exaggerated in order to gather public and world support for the use of force.  The location of Fort William (now a post office) has come to be known as The Black Hole of India.

It struck me that the Black Hole was a sort of early 9/11.  The idea that evil warrants and excuses evil in return.  It worked for England then, and it continues to work in current times: 9/11 gave the US government permission and an excuse to invade (and pillage) Iraq with any necessary force.

The River Ganges

During our brief stint in Varanasi (approx. 16 hours), we were finally given the biggest room we've ever had, the nicest ,the hottest water and the most comfortable beds that we didn't even sleep in. Karma's a bitch. We made our way through the city of 3 million people and about 1 million cows (no word of a lie). The market places were hectic ( we were working off 4 hours sleep) and the alleys were filled with people going about their daily business. India was celebrating Independence Day and apparently the car dealers across from the hotel were really excited as they blared music that made it sound like the entire street was taking part in the festivities, where as two guys sat on plastic chairs out front.

We visited the site where Buddha spoke his first sermon, an archaeological museum and the Mother India Temple. The crowning achievement, and what made the day of dizzying crowds and noise worthwhile was that trip out on the Ganges itself.

Escaping onto the river brought a calm to the hectic way of life. The importance of the river in the lives of the people who frequent it was overwhelming. On each of the ghats people perform different acts/rituals that go along with the cycle of life and death...bathing, swimming, doing laundry, bathing the water buffalo and cremating the dead who have arrived at its shores.

We ended the ride with a downpour that would usher us into the riverbank. Although the umbrellas came out, they did not seem to make a difference. We found our way to shore, only to find that another element had been added to the flow of traffic...this being flooded streets with ankle deep water.

As we tie up loose end here in Delhi we prepare to pack our bags....um yeah...pack/stuff/buy extra luggage in preparation for our return home. As the clothes dry on the make shift line in our hotel room, we have soaked through another set and await our trip home. Have we mentioned how much we love jet lag? Huge fans.

Let the games begin!
See you all in Central standard time!
Nadia and Andrea

I got the bloggin' in me...and a bit more

Well this our last day in Kolkata and soon we will be hitting the road, or should I say tracks, for the next three days of sights and travels back to Dehli, and then the airport to transport me back around the world and home....

***This addition comes Saturday morning in Varanasi (those who said this wouldn't be my last stab at the blogging were right...but I am just going to add to this one rather than write a new piece). We spent the night on the train, and due to delays missed the sunrise on the Ganges, though we were still all up at 4 a.m (for those who slept at all). Now we are in a fancy hotel, with awesome showers (in a stall, with both hot water and good water pressure) and the computer gods (I'm sure somehwere in this country there is at least one) have smiled down upon me, as I got the only computer where the internet is actually working and so I had to some back to this blog, as after posting I realized I had more to add to my previous list.****

It has been an amazing journey and I really wish to thank my fellow travelers. As was commented upon much earlier, it is certainly strange to spend three weeks in such close quarters with a group of strangers, with the added intensity of this crazy country and all that we have seen and experienced; it is really quite incredible. I feel fairly certain in saying that each one of us will leave here with a few (or a couple, or at least one) new friend(s) as well as our memories. I also know that this experience is bound to impact change in my life on many levels, I just don't know how yet. And so thanks to everyone for that.

I also really want to thank my fellow bloggers. For me the blogging has been an integral part in processing all I have experienced. It has allowed me to put my thoughts, ideas and self out there on a larger scale and helped me to discuss and digest some of what I have been going through. Without the additional bloggers, who have added details of the journey, their own insights, and especially their humour, I would not have been able to write the way I have and so I am grateful to them for taking the time to write.

I also really appreciate knowing there are people out there who have been reading this blog. I was constantly surprised every time someone told me one of their family members or friends had read it, or I received an email, or read a comment....I guess because I am such a lazy reader (I always say I would be the worst 8th grader ever...and it doesn't bode well for my masters...though so far so good) I truly appreciate others who are not....and so once again I am grateful.

And so, as this is very likely to be my final blog...***Andrea and Eddsel you were right, as I sit here again editing and adding more**** (I'd like to say I might write one upon my arrival home, once I have had so time to reflect....but who am I kidding? I have a paper to write) I decided to compile a list of things I have learned in India

This is quite a random list....some things I have known for a while and have been further affirmed while being here, others are what I consider life long lessons, some are quite serious, and others specific to India......so here goes

What I learned in India

1. I have enough of everything....even as I head out to shop this afternoon (I bought lots), because I can, I know I have enough...there is nothing more I need than what I have

2. Nothing is impossible if I believe and just start....people like Noreen Dunne and Sr. Cryill saw a need and just got to work, and worried about the rest later....

3. Individuals have a great deal of power to make change once they believe

4. Religious tolerance and inclusion is not only possible but thrives in school; all religions can be talked about and celebrated without stepping on toes or offending anyone

5. Stop signs are merely suggestions

6. Children and children...8th grade boys are goofy and 9th grade girls chatty and loud...but all kids want to play and they all want to learn

7. Dignity cannot be taken from someone, unless the individual is willing to give it away

8. Faith abounds everywhere....and with it life, even in the harshest of circumstances

9. A smile and a dance can melt my heart

10. Double double this, double double that, double this, double that, double double this that

11. I can pee anywhere, and squatting is not so bad, Indian trains are better that Egyptian ones, women's bathrooms never have enough stalls (especially in train stations) and outdoors is always better

12. Men have this (#11) easier than women...especially when men in India can pee ANYWHERE and EVERYWHERE

13. Education can create change in a new generation, and children are capable of understanding this and making it happen

14. We (educators) have a responsibility to empower our students

15. Amidst complete chaos is courtesy....at least on big city roads

16. Incessant honking and use of horn is one of the requirements to pass the Indian driver's test and get a license (if in fact a license is a requirement)

17. Use of horn and incessant honking is also a requirement for bicycles....even if the horn is a bell like the one I had on my banana seat bike when I was nine

18. I can live without coffee in the morning....though I still prefer not to

19. Tea is not so bad as a substitute...especially with milk and sugar

20. Cows and people can get along perfectly well, even in train stations

21. Cows always have the right of way...dogs do not...nor do pedestrians

22. I am grateful

I am sure there is more ***even now, as I have added to it*** but time is short (though it looks like the others have given up on the computer) and so I am ending here for now. Some have told me I am sure to have another blog ***and again Eddsel and Andrea were right***.....and I may still again...we will see....in the meantime that's all for now.

Thanks again to all

We Vishnu A Merry Krishna

Yes folks, it's that time of year again. The opportunity for devout Hindus everywhere to celebrate the birth of the Lord Krishna. Have you made your Krishna's list yet?

Fun Fact: Lord Krishna is kind of a big deal around here

Anyways, Today we found ourselves travelling out 2 hours to remote villages and areas where the Loreto school had satellite schools. These schools serviced some of the children who work in the brick fields, a most gruelling and labour intensive work. Yet when we arrived...you guessed it, the classroom was filled with smiling faces.

Fun Fact: Krishna was sent to establish the religion of love

The interesting came during our journey. As we drove further and further from the city, people would stop and stare in the windows of the buses. I know what you're thinking, it's probably because we are so good looking. Rather it's because we are foreign. Our guide explained to us, that these people had only ever seen foreigners on television and in the movies...never in real life.

Picture it. India. 2009. A school bus full of teachers (the stuff children's nightmares are made of) descend on these towns and villages. Within minutes of our arrival, word had spread and no sooner do we turn around from looking in the doorways of the temporary school house, that we are greeted by the entire village watching us. We were greeted at the first village with the offer of coconut water. Imagine a cool, blended Pina Colada. Now take away the pineapple, coconut, icy sweet taste.(Mmmmmm) And at the second village a bag of Guavas. The group offered Andrea in return, but there were no takers.

Fun Fact: Krisha liked to play the flute and seduce the village women

On the way to the evening concert put on by the Rainbow Children at the Loreto School, many lanes of traffic were taken up by Hindus preparing for the festivities tomorrow. (It is a holiday and there is no school) Normally Cab drivers flag us down for a ride, but tonight we had to run alongside them holding on to the door, as we barked out destination and offer for a price through the window. Here's a hint, when the cab turns the corner, does not stop and weaves into traffic...you better up your offer.

Fun Fact: Krishna is the god of sacred UTTERances and cows. (I didn't even make that up)


Merry Krishna to all and to all a goodnight!

Nadia and Andrea


Fun Fact Source: http://www.sanatansociety.org/hindu_gods_and_goddesses/krishna.htm

The Amazing Sr Cyrill: Visionary, Humanitarian and Lizard Expert

I have to write a post on this amazing person. Her work here in Kolkata has changed the lives of hundreds of thousands and her vision has revolutionized the education system and beyond.

30 years ago when Sr Cyrill moved to India she taught at a private school reserved for the rich. The idea was to teach the kids that would become the next generation of politicians, lawyers and entrepreneurs and teach them about human rights and compassion so that they would then remember the poor and change India. However, after the kids left the school in the pressures of the real wold they would not remember the teachings of the school. Then it dawned on her. She needed to teach the poor and change India from the ground up. 'In India you have to do everything through the backdoor. If you try to go through the front you get turned down' she told us. But instead of exclusively teaching the poor she decided to do both.
The school is now made up of 1400 students: 700 pay and 700 don't. It is one of the only places where the rich and the poor can meet and come together, abolishing stereotypes that each group has about the other. Although some parents have complained about their children studying alongside homeless kids, the reputation and academic standard of the school is so high that no rich parent would remove their children from the school. 'We don't even know who pays or who doesn't. And even when we know we don't tell anyone' a young grade 10 student told us. 'We don't believe in the school model that teaches only the rich'. Sr Cyrill has taught them well. I see a sea of girls giggling, chasing each other, gossiping (imagine that- they do that here too!) and I can't tell who belongs to which group.
Many of the schools poor have gone on to university. Currently 20 teachers are past students.
The school is also a home for a few hundred children (known as the Rainbows- I love them!) who have no home to go back to . These children are composed of orphans, abandoned as well as previously abused kids. All with no home but the school. Instead of begging in the streets these kids now have food, shelter, love and the chance for a better future.
Over the last 30 years new programs were created where she saw an opportunity. Here is a few of them: money lending program for parents to start a small business, mobile schools (with a mobile library) to take a school to those kids that can't travel to school, Schooling for young girls of the Red Light District, teacher training program for teachers of the public government schools and the development on India's first curriculum on Human Rights which they are now lobbying to implement throughout the state.
All my respect to this amazing visionary woman. And yes, she is a lizard expert with a PhD in Zoology!

On a lighter note, I miss...

As you can see from Cari's post re August 7th it was an intense day. Her McDonald's post keeps things lighter, I will try to do the same.
These are the things I miss the most right at this moment:
-I miss cars that stop when you are in front of them
-I miss something known as "costumer service"
-I miss salespeople that understand that 'no means no'
-I miss restaurant servers with common sense
-I miss ordering something from a menu and knowing what I am going to get
-I miss neutered and spayed dogs, and
-I miss recycling, green space, fresh air and tap water
Feel free to add yours on the comments :)

On a lighter note....I'm lovin' it

So my friends and family who know me well know that I pretty much grew up on McDonald's. It was one of my dad's favorite stops and we would often pick it up on a Saturday afternoon, after synagogue (the irony..but that's not what this blog is about) and eat in Kildonan Park, where we would empty packets of ketchup in piles and watch the ants come.

These same family and friends know that I gave up eating McDonald's (and a lot of other junk food) going on 10 years ago, likely as a result of (at least in part) my childhood relationship with food and McDonald's. Though there has been the occasional return through the Golden Arches, they have been very few and far between, though I never stopped lovin' it (da,da,da,da,da..).

However, regardless of life at home, as a somewhat experienced traveler, I know that on the road we do what we have to do, and though there is little to no risk of me withering away, I have to eat.

I have wanted to come to India for that last fifteen plus years, since my Israeli friends started telling me about their post-army adventures. But for all of the reasons I wanted to visit this amazing land, the food was definitely not one of them. Curry is not my favorite, and while I enjoy a moderate amount of spice, I just don't enjoy Indian food. And as my colleagues are beginning to discover, I am not accustomed to having to eat things I don't like, that being much of the food offered around me.

In the first days in Delhi I discovered that in this (my dislike of Indian food and not being spoiled) I am not alone. And so I found my McDonald's buddies. In Delhi the McDonald's was just around the corner, which was just awesome. In Jaipur, we took the putt-putt across town and our dinner became an adventure, including a driver we fed and even a beautiful princess (are you enjoying yourself?).

In Darjeeling there was no McDonald's (yet) but this wasn't too big a deal because the food was far closer to its Chinese, Nepali and Tibetan borders and the momos and soups were right up my alley. We also had some awesome Thai, and of course, Glennary's, home of bacon and eggs for breakfast, baked macaroni, a bakery and internet access (much time was spent there).

But as soon as we got to Kolkata yesterday, I looked at my pals and said, "It feels like a McDonald's kind of night." When we found out that McDonald's was only a 5 minute walk from our hotel that sealed the deal (thanks Dave).

In many ways McDonald's in India is just like every other McDonald's in the world; it is crawling with people, especially kids, line ups, and there is a birthday party room on the upper level.

The differences however are vast....starting with the fact that there is not a hamburger in the joint....awfully strange for McDonald's, though not really given the country. Like our average Mickie D's, Indian McDonald's offer the McChicken, Filet o' Fish and the menu says McNuggets though we are yet to find one that actually has one them in stock. The also offer the McVeggie, which is some vegetarian patty in deep fried goodness....yum

For the average Indian or people who like the spice and still want McDonald's (confusing to me....but I am the last to judge), McDonald's offers a grilled chicken or veggie sandwich (I did try the chicken once for the healthier option....but ended up going back for the standard McChicken) and the Maharaja, which is the Indian version of the Big Mac, only chicken with spice. On the menu is also an Indian chicken wrap, and a Mexican chicken wrap, which I find so strange, but one of my McDonald's buddies actually said was pretty good.

And of course there are the fries, frozen in sugar (as all over the world)....they taste just as good as ever....

Sitting down at McDonald's is also an experience.....there are tons of people (of course) and seats are hard to come by. The clientele is similar to that in Canada in that parents take their kids for the quick meals (and the Happy Meal prize). But though the average meal (large combo) costs around Rs 140 or so (about $ 3.00 cdn) it is clear it is the more well to do who frequent the joint; no one is starving inside the Golden Arches.

When you are done McDonald's employees generally clear the table, I think as a hint to get up; but on the occasions we have beat them to it, we discovered the special containers asking us to return our unused condiment (something which resembles ketchup but is definitely not Heinz).

Whether it is a good or bad thing that McDonald's has reached practically every city (at least the bigger ones) in every country in every part of the world I do not know; what I do know is that at the end of the day, in an awesome, strange and sometimes overwhelming country, McDonald's offers a familiarity and some of the comforts of home.....and the McChicken tastes exactly like it did some twenty years ago....yummm!

Somewhere over the Rainbow

We are writing to you right now from a room the size of your bedroom, a ceiling the height of Andrea (don't forget to duck for the vents) and 8 computers crammed into it that resembles a call center somewhere in Bangalore....Are you currently happy with your Internet Provider?..... Anyways...We have arrived in Kolkata and are coming to the end of our 2nd day in this City of Joy (check out the Movie at your local Blockbuster...starring Patrick Swayze)

We spent the last 2 days with the dynamic powerhouse who is ever humble...Sr. Cyrill. She and her talented staff have managed to create a huge network of social and academic services for the children and families (both rich and poor) in the Kolkata area . What is most amazing though is that she has taken in between 200-300 street children who live under the thatch covered rooftop of the school. They range in age from toddlers to high school seniors. They are affectionately called the Rainbows, and are loved by everyone who cares for and teaches them every day.

We were overjoyed and a little surprised when upon our arrival the children walked up to us, asked our names and took us by the hand, often not letting go. Aunty and Uncle are how we are called between barrages of hugs. Each child wants to keep you as their own special friend, and often times become angered when another child wants your attention. Their stories of how they came to occupy the mats on the rooftops, are incredible---as is their love and devotion for one another, their school and sister Cyrill.

Sr. Cyrill and her staff also provide opportunities for the mothers of children who attend the school to set up personal businesses---whether it is running the canteen in the school yard for breaks, or providing Micro loans out in the community. These are only the tip of the iceberg, and we will learn more tomorrow on our trips out to the East Bypass and Village schools.

On a lighter note...we have found that we are the sisters of many of the shopkeepers and hawkers in Kolkata. "Sisters, promise me you will come back." It's on my to do list. Nadia even made conversation with a owner of "an Emporium" and by emporium we mean Dollar store. When ever we are on the hunt for a "hot item" someones brother has a store not far from here, and for us...special price. ( some girls have all the luck) As seasoned street connoisseurs, we are able to spot fakes from a mile away, and barter to the point where the merchant wanting to sell me a genuine camel bone bracelet for a mere 350 rupees (8.75), will chase me down the road and offer it to me for 100 (2.50) I guess in this market, these times of recession, camel bone just isn't what it used to be. Nadia made one vendor apologize as we were leaving his stand, as he tried to sell her his precious gems for 350 rupees. But a flashlight and a guided tour of the Taj Mahal will change a girl, and shame a shopkeeper.

Keepin' it Kool in Kolkata (Yes we know that's not how you spell cool grammarians)
Nadia and Andrea

Click

So much has happened in the past 36 hours since we left Darjeeling that I don't know where to begin....

After our visit to Jesu Ashram (a hospice I will talk about in a bit) I was chatting with the elder Father there, who has spent that better part of his life working with the very sick and suffering (I don't know how, but I sure respect him for it), and over the course of our chat we were talking about the different things groups like ours experience while in India; he had a great analogy, which I told him I was going to use.

He said trips like our are like watching TV with remote control in hand. We stay on one station for just a minute, long enough to get the picture of what is going on, and then click, we change the channel and are somewhere else, then click, it changes again; sometimes we stay on one station for just long enough to get the feel for the "show" and sometimes we move so quickly we barely get to see the actual picture.

Yesterday was one of those days that I was grateful we could change the channel; it was a very hard day.

We began in Darjeeling, where we had to say goodbye to the city in the clouds and our 3 jeeps made their way down the mountain. Unfortunately one driver was not aware of our intended stops, and he sped ahead and to the group directly to the train station, where the rest of us wouldn't arrive for another 6 or 7 hours. We all knew we would find each other (we weren't going to get on the train if we hadn't), but each group was concerned about the other nonetheless.

After an somewhat uneventful stop at a tea factory for the famous Darjeeling tea, where we all believe the signor who spoke to us had been drinking too much of his own "special brew" of some form or another, we made our way to the Jesu Ashram.

Before I go further here, I have to admit, though not exactly proud, when World Vision commercials come on television I often change the channel. I find the suffering so hard to watch, especially knowing that there is nothing I can do to help. The little money I have goes to local charities, where I feel the need more directly, and my time and energy goes into the work I do in my school and my community. Here I know I do the best I can with what I have in my life and that is what I need to accept. But when I see the suffering on television it is hard, and though I feel guilty doing it, I often just change the channel.

Walking around Jesu Ashram yesterday was like walking into a World Vision commercial, only the majority of the patients were adults, and to me the suffering was palpable and extremely difficult to bear witness to.

Jesu Ashram is another Jesuit initiative (for someone who had never really heard of the Jesuits before this trip I sure am discovering they do a lot of amazing work around the world). It is a hospice that has beds for over 350 sick people, including general illness, mothers and their children, a TB section, a Leprosy section, and a growing section of people living with HIV and AIDS. There are several Jesuits, a few nuns or nuns in training, nursing students who do a large part of their studies there and volunteers. There are doctors who come in to check patients, but the day to day work is done by these incredible people who ensure the sick have a bed (they rarely turn anyone away, unless the person needs a hospital, which they try to ensure they get to), food and their prescribed medicine. These people work with the ill and the suffering every day, day after day, in some cases for years, and I don't know how they do it.

I do know that it was too much for me. We began by walking through the "general" ward, and as we got to the room where the doorpost read "serious" I had to laugh because I didn't know what we had seen until then.

As we walked through the wards I felt so uncomfortable and sad on so many levels. I felt like a tourist to suffering walking down those aisles, trying to smile at the sometimes hopeful and sometimes dead eyes I saw before me, but I couldn't. I couldn't pretend to smile and I couldn't not smile; I didn't know what to do with myself. It was just too hard.

Before we went into the wards the Jesuit explained that the patients know that people like us, tourists, come through here, and that we are their benefactors; they are able to be where they are because of people like us. While I know this is true, this too made me sad.

Later in the day, when talking with another colleague, she said part of what gave her comfort while walking through the wards, was that we were likely the only faces (outside of those on the wards) they would see that day (or really in who knows how long). I know that is too is true, but for me this made it even harder, even sadder for me.

As we walked through the first wards all I could think of was the suffering; having spent hours staying with family in hospitals at various times in my life (though thankfully not a lot, and most recently there was a speedy recovery) I couldn't help but think about how slowly the time passes and how the hours drag on, and this was often with a TV, or at least books, crossword puzzles and conversation....I couldn't help thinking about the suffering....the people lying on their beds hour after hour, day after day, with nothing to do, in some cases no hope of recovery, and that this was so much better than their fates would have been without this place......

And this combined with the visible physical illnesses (which I don't deal well with, and why I never wanted to become a doctor and also why I don't teach science) was too much for me. While I walked with the group around the campus I couldn't go into the wards. I couldn't smile and I couldn't not smile; I just couldn't....

This was the first time in this country where I felt truly overwhelmed, with sadness, helplessness, guilt and grief. Equally important to me was the knowledge that though I was feeling all of these things (which are real and count) this visit was not about me. And so while I wanted to cry and it was hard not to, I also didn't want to draw attention to myself. I had to pull away to take care of myself and that was all I could do. When the tour was finally over I was most grateful.

At the end of the tour, we had tea, which is the custom. While I am pretty certain I am not the only one who just wanted to get out of there, it would have been rude, and a cup of tea really was the very, very, very least I could do to show my respect for these incredible people and the work that they do.

It was at the very end of this visit that the Father and I had the conversation of the remote control that is this trip, and that is life, and when we got in the jeep I have never been more grateful to be able to change the channel. Once again I recognized how very lucky I am to be me in this lifetime, and not have to endure the suffering (or really even bear witness to it) of so many people in this world.

It seemed quite ironic to me that the next channel we landed on was a five star hotel (though the service wasn't) for dinner before we found the rest of our crew to get on the train. Despite some stressful moments, finding each other, Dave not feeling great, schlepping everyone's luggage and getting our seats organized, everything was good as we departed for our next destination.

And before we knew it....click.....we woke up in Calcutta (of course the heavy medication on the train didn't hurt).

We already breakfasted with the amazing Sr. Cyrill and meet some of her rainbow children at Loretto School (different than the Rainbow community I used to hang with in Israel) which has gone along way to reaffirm the hope I have found here, but that blog will have to wait for another day as I have been writing for a while and the Golden Arches are calling my name.....8)

The Jesuits in Darjeeling

I have been completely moved by the work of the Jesuits here in Darjeeling. The work they do has benefited an immense number of people and it is hard to think what this place would be like without them and their influence. Here is a brief summary of three of their most amazing efforts here in Darjeeling:
-St Joseph's High School- A Jesuit run school that teaches not only religious tolerance but acceptance. Although mostly attended by well-off children the surplus of the earnings from tuition are used to fully fund 5 other schools in the area for those who can't afford to pay. Brilliant.
-Hayden Hall- Much has been said about this amazing grassroots organization by my classmates. Women can learn a trade (while their children get free daycare) and skills to become self sufficient. Then they are able to sell their products at the store for no cost. Father Burns and Noreen Dunn have dedicated decades of their lives for this initiative.
-Gandhi Ashram School- Started by Fr McGuire and now run by Fr Paul, it is a school (KG to Gr8) for the poorest of the poor. The kids are hand picked with the most important criteria being low socioeconomic background. They are then taught the regular curriculum plus an intensive music program. Kids graduating from the school have been accepted to the most prestigious university programs. I spent two days here and was moved to tears several times at the sight of them playing music. Some of the kids had dirty clothing, some had not had a shower for a long time, it was a surreal experience to then watch them play classical music.
Amongst all the poverty and injustice that permeates India (and the world) these priests and their staff are true and shining examples of selfless love. I take my hat off for these men and women.

These are the people in the neighbourhood....

We have certainly met a fair share of interesting people. So for those of you who know the song "The people that we meet when we are walking down the street each day..."
1) Tony*** the local taxi driver: Many of us have a Tony in our lives; dependable, reliable, and can get us from point A to point B in a safe manner. and by safe, we mean - not over the edge of the cliff :).

2) Day-glow Deities: These religious figure heads pop up all over Darjeeling. Whether it's illuminated on the dashboard of Tony's taxi during a dark and fog filled drive, or at the local temples and churches. Even with the frequent power failures, you can be certain to be able to find your way in the dark - because mystically they are always glowing.

3) Moolah*** the neighbourhood money changer: Always ready with the best prices....only if you get it now, because later it cannot be guaranteed. He keeps us up to date on the market situation, the pending bank strike, and the news that the dollar is shaky (any dollar) and will be looking to plummet 7 cents int he next 24 hours.

4) Walt*** the Waiter: Walt has made much progress in his English. At the beginning of the week, a request for coffee was promptly responded to with a nice cup of Darjeeling Tea. Walt taught us that what the hotel menu says it has, isn't actually what they have. By process of elimination... our order becomes their suggestion. Walt has also taught us the virtue of waiting patiently.

Other interesting people to note:
A) the drumming monk walking in front of our window at 6 am. This is truly one person who marches to the beat of his own drum.
B) the barking dogs who we affectionately call the littlest hobos. They sleep all day, and bark all night.
C) The North Point Guards who take their job so seriously, that they refuse to let the guests in. Even Jeff's secret Jesuit handshake couldn't convince them.
D) Glennary's - the Master Baker...no comment.
E) Traffic Police: They blow their whistle, but we are convinced they blow it only when us foreigners are beside them.
F) the Blue Boys of St. Joseph's North Point - This choir performed for us yesterday. There are no words to describe the music that they made.
G)The local Jesuits - they hosted us for dinner last night. With plenty of food, and an open bar, we enjoyed speaking with them and learning about some of the history and politics of Darjeeling.
H) The Gourkaland Patrol- asside form snazzy tracksuits, we aren't quite sure what these guys do. We do know that it is a symbol of political unrest in this area right now. Don't worry mom - we are in safe hands.

***Please note, the names of the people in this post have been changed to protect the identity - but more than likely because we don't know their names.

One interesting thing that happened to us today is that we explored the neighbourhood with one of the founders of Hayden Hall -Noreen Dunn. She met us after teaching at the college to help us find spices in the lower market. She then brought us along for the rest of her errands, which included: a visit to the auditor, the doctor, a local nursing home, a physiotherapist, and to the home of a former students' family who was mourning her death. Being one of the multiple of 7 days, we were invited in to light a candle with monks praying in the home, and to then partake in tea and a meal with the mourning family.
It is not often, as a tourist, that you get invited into the homes and lives of the locals. So, strangely, neither of us felt out of place. It would be easy to, as we were the only white people in the room. But, in this culture that focuses so much of its time and effort on the inclusion of others, neither of us were made to feel out of place - only welcomed.

This is our last day with these people in Darjeeling, as we are off tomorrow to Kolkata on the next leg of our journey. Some travelers have likened Kolkata to the New York of India. Kolkata - the big Samosa.

Catch you on the flip side! We'll talk to you at the bottom of the mountain.
Andrea and Nadia

The Eye Never Sleeps

Well this is my first attempt at this; I'm not really much of a blogger per se, but I feel its good to contribute. Thus far this experience has been life-altering, and I know I am not the only one who can say that. It's challenged me in a bevy of ways and really forced me out of my comfort zone; a real paradigm shift. I think being here has really allowed me to question, that's what life is about right? When you're face-to-face with a world so different from the one you are accustomed, new thoughts a feelings arise which begets self-reflection, the basis for all growth and wisdom. Part of this trip have been overwhelming, postively and negatively. The intense heat and humidity of the cities, the aggressive hockers, the incessant honking of cars, and poverty of the calibre that none of us have probably ever seen, its a lot to wrap one's head around. Can one attempt to be neutral to it and just accept? I haven't gotten there yet. But then just when the world seems insane and completely unfair and full of oppression and cruelty we see the selfless compassion of the people at Hayden House, especially the brilliant Noreen Dunn, the religious tolerance and acceptance of Father Kinley, the smiling faces of the beautiful children learning and playing, the serence gentility of the Buddhist monks and the vastness of India. This place is a literal assault on the senses. And I am grateful for all of it. Grateful that I have this opportunity, grateful to be challenged, grateful for the wonderful thought-provoking company, just grateful. I would like to end with a quote from a Zen commentary I've been reading, I think it sums up alot.

"As monks, we are supposed to be homeless, having left our homes behind; but once we are homeless we realize that every place is home; wherever we happen to be is our home. This planet is our home; if we go to the moon, that is our home. We cannot leave home. It is a paradox: when there is no fixed abode, no fixed home, every place is home. "

Anyway, today is lovely and I must be off to be a part of it,
Nadine

In a world that sucks

Arlo Guthrie often tells this story during his concerts; I heard it years ago and most recently at Folk Fest in Winnipeg. He says (to paraphrase of course):
"If the world were perfect everyone would have enough, enough food, clean water, a nice home, and a good education. If this were the case and we lived in a perfect world, where nobody lacked for anything, a person would have to do a whole lot to make a difference in this world. But in a world that sucks, like this one, a person doesn't have to do very much to make a difference. Never has there been a time in the history of the world when a person can do so little and get so much done."
This story has stuck with me since the first time I heard it, and these words were the message Noreen Dunne impressed upon our group (though she may not have known it) as we visited Hayden Hall this morning. I have about a half an hour before I am going back there to give what little help I can to some students for a couple of hours and further support them with my shopping, buying their hand crafted goods, produced by the women of Darjeeling in order to empower them and help left them out of poverty, but in the meantime I really felt like I had to get this out there.
The work that Noreen and many others do, and have done for the last forty years, at Hayden Hall is truly inspiring. It is a grassroots organization that has helped the people of this area, primarily women and children in so many areas including health, education, housing and employment and it is truly inspiring. It is a true testament to what one person, or a small group of individuals can do.
The other message she impressed is that it is the small donations that allow her work to happen. It is not the multi-millionaires who donate large sums, but the small donations of 20 dollars from the average Joe that make a world of difference and allow her work to happen.
Hayden Hall has a website....HaydenHall.org and I encourage you to check it out and pass it along; it really is incredible.
I hope this doesn't sound to preachy or pushy; I was truly moved by the work they do.

Thoughts from a Jewish Buddhist

Sitting down again, and the more I hear people are enjoying the blog the more pressure I feel; yet I will do what I always do, exactly what I tell my 8th graders to do, I will just write.

Today I do have the excuse that I was up at 3 a.m to make the trek to Tiger Hill to watch the sunrise. Though we couldn't see the highest peaks, or the borders of the 4 or 5 neighbouring countries, I was looking down over other, lower mountain peaks, and the clouds (without being in an airplane) as the sun peaked through the far off clouds on the horizon. It was pretty spectacular and I was grateful. I can now also say I have seen the sun rise from the lowest point on earth (the Dead Sea) and a pretty high point (though not the highest) and once again I am grateful.

As my colleagues previously reported (thanks to them for keeping everyone updated too) yesterday was quite an awesome day. Luckily for me, I suffered from very little queasiness (I have other issues) and so for me the drive was spectacular....I was in the back of the jeep (reminiscent of those days we used to ride in the back-back of the station wagon) peering out the window the whole time. Except for the occasional bump (head or elbow) I was smiling and singing to myself the whole time and it was awesome. Our driver was also super courteous and careful, especially in the rain, in fact he was one of the most courteous drivers I have ever seen....something I hope to remember as I am swearing at drivers on Winnipeg roads after the first snowfall.

After the Gandhi Ashram school, which was inspiring we went up the hill to a Buddhist monastery and for me the experience was powerful...to say the least. We arrived in the middle of the afternoon and a bunch of monks were sitting around a long table chanting and praying. Though I wasn't sure we were supposed to be there at all, nobody said anything as we took off our shoes and silently sat down at the long row of tables behind the monks' tables.

I took a seat in front of a pillar, which acted as a prop (I thought of it as kind of like a yoga block) so I didn't have to work too hard to keep my back straight. As soon as I sat down I felt a feeling of peace wash over me and I felt myself become quieter from within; I found it was very easy to still my mind and just breathe. I don't know why it was so easy in that moment, in that place, but it just was. I didn't understand any of the words (obviously) but the sounds of the chanting, together with the music, bells, drums and shells, resonated within me, through my body, and especially through my heart (though when they all played at once my fist thought was that it reminded me of the opening music of the Shrine Circus). I closed my eyes, listened and breathed and again I felt this almost overwhelming sense of gratitude for my life. It was awesome. It also made me think, both there as I sat and watched everything going on around me, and during the 3 hour journey back to Darjeeling in the back of the jeep, and still now.

I wonder where it is that this feeling came from and why I found this connection in this monastery and why it is I don't find it in a synagogue.....and that perhaps I am wrong and limiting myself in my perspectives.....and so this is what I have been thinking about.....and while I am not going to write a lot right now (again always relative) I am going to share some thoughts.....and I do feel some pressure here because I am running out of time before our next destination.....

When we first met Father Kinley, the Rector of Saint Josephs, he introduced himself as a Buddhist Catholic, having converted to Catholicism to become a Jesuit Priest. He did not tell the whole story of his conversion (mentioned by my colleagues in a previous blog), when asked he simply said something along the lines that we (as humans) often look outside of our upbringing to find our spiritual meaning. To this I can certainly relate, but I think he was purposefully over-simplifying things in that moment, and I also believe this is too simple an answer for me as well.

And so I have been thinking.....I grew up with a very strong sense of both Jewish identity and faith. In high school and youth groups I actually loved the praying part....the singing and the community. Through university I began to question the language; the words and prayers I didn't understand (why say them?) and the ones I did understand didn't hold any particular meaning. I didn't like praying with other people's words.

Then I moved to Israel where my Jewish identity was a given; I didn't have to do anything at all, I lived in Israel. There I also found a new path and a new spirituality...I found the god of my own understanding, with whom I built a relationship that I continue to work at and maintain today through prayer (my own words and other fairly standard prayers I can relate to) and meditation (I can see some people's eyes rolling now, but this is me). In Jerusalem I lived in a spiritual community of friends and family and it was a part of who I was....as it still is a part of who I am today.

In my life in Winnipeg tooday, I continue to find my spirituality through prayer, meditation and my yoga practice. I maintain my Jewish identity through family celebrations, teaching Hebrew and my connection to Israel (friends and the longing to go back....knowing the second I do I'll probably stay...sorry mom). Had I ended up teaching in the Jewish community this may have been (likely would have been) different and I would have been involved in other aspects of Jewish community life, but this was not the case (for better or worse).

But yesterday as I sat in the monastery, in peace and silence, I found myself wondering (and I was certainly surprised by the thought) about my own Jewish identity and my connection to the synagogue.....and the thought that came was maybe I am wrong. Maybe if I can find god in a Buddhist monastery just like that, I can find him in a synagogue too.

Now don't get me wrong, I am not saying I am going all "religiouso" (as we say), nor am I giving up bacon cheeseburgers, I am just thinking that perhaps I need to give the prayer of my youth and upbringing another chance. It could be that I was right all along and the politics and hypocrisies I thought I felt in the past are true....but again I could be wrong....and maybe just as god was in the monastery, and the mountain top at sunrise this morning, and everywhere I go, I will find him in a synagogue too......

(and just as a side I use the he for god for simplicity sake...easier than he/her/it/whatever, and the lowercase just because.....)

The Long and Winding Road

Today we headed off Kalimpong (Another town somewhere in the mountains) to visit the Gandhi Ashram school.

First, the trip itself. We left at 7:00 am this morning for what would be a 3 hour journey that rivals the Grand Prix...literally. We never went more than 30 km/hr but you would swear that the driver had the pedal to the metal (Gravity is a pretty crazy thing) Nausea quickly ensued as we twisted and turned down the mountain side. Luckily the guard rails were in existence, unfortunately they seemed to be in all the wrong places (around the hairpin turns). We rose and fell at inclines of 45 degree angles with a tinge of panic every time the driver reached to answer the ringing cell phone. The mountainsides were plastered with witty sayings such as "It's not a race nor a rally, please slow down, enjoy the valley." or "Drive slow and arrive in peace, not in pieces." Around the many blind corners our driver would sound one of his 8 horn which was reminiscent of a religious battle cry.


INTERJECTION from Jeffrey: Today was an absolutely fantastic and beautiful day - it makes my deep and brooding pensiveness of yesterday seem so far away. I think that my major thought yesterday can be encapsulated with recognition that I neither want to ignore the painful and hard parts of our trip (beggars, hawkers, the poor, the sick) nor pretend that India is a perfect shangrila in every way. I just want to have an authentic (whatever that is) experience. In any how, today was a really nice and peaceful day - we traveled through beauty and joy that I find hard to relay. I trust the others have done a better job of it than me. But, I am grateful for today - it was a long and winding road to get to this point, but the trip has been worth it.

Gandhi Ashram is a school where only the poorest children are accepted to attend. They often walk up to 2 hours to get to school each way.(Not the way your parents used to tell you) They all learn to play the violin as part of the school's programming and have ended up playing in different festivals around the world. Never again will we tolerate the cry of "I can't do it, it's too hard." Sorry, Try again. Even with nothing, the students used their imaginations and those things at their disposal to play recess games. Andrea lost brutally in a game of stones, and has yet to master badminton with a sandal and a bundle of elastic bands. Nadia 's Canada tattoos were a hit, and kept the kids counting to 30 to see magic before their eyes.

Needless to say, after a long and winding road home, we are still weaving back and forth in our seats. (Reminiscent of Nadia's days in the navy) Tomorrow morning it's an early start to Tiger Hill to see if we can catch a glimpse of Mount Everest (We'll see...alarm goes off at 3:00 am)

Aye, aye Captain!
Nadia and Andrea

Buddhist Priest (Not to be confused with Judas Priest)

After another hike up the hill to reach the Internet (approximately 100 ft with varying inclines and narrow pathways) we have come to blog our thoughts about the trip to St. Joseph's School for Boys North Point.

We started our day at 8:00 am with a school assembly in the court yard of the Harry Potteresque school with students lined in the courtyard that was reminiscent of drill exercises. We were welcomed with a round of applause as the special guests for the day. We decided not to get to used to this treatment from students in general, although Nadia is thinking of incorporating some basic training in Grade One...couldn't hurt. By the time they reach me in grade 8 they will be well trained.

We toured the school and saw the dormitories, bed halls and community grooming areas for the boarders. We interrupted classes and were greeted with the students standing up and chiming in with a collective "Good Morning Teacher". We walked through all the grade levels, but our encounter with a group of middle school students solidified the old homage " Boys will be Boys" half way around the world. The boys had been sent out into the hall for talking and arriving late. Some things are universal. Students also were privy to guitar, violin, multiple language classes, economics, civics, music, sciences, commerce etc. The school is famous for performing musicals and today they were holding auditions for Jesus Christ Superstar. Big competition for the role of Jesus and Judas. Mary...not so much.

One of the highlights was meeting Father Kinley who we have learned was a Buddhist who was a former student of the school. He decided to become a Jesuit Priest after sitting next to Mother Theresa on an airplane. He has been thinking about leaving his job as a business man and was considering the priesthood. Mother Theresa suggested that he become a priest after talking with him, and not knowing his pondering. He said this was a final sign, but concluded that he is both a Buddhist and a Jesuit.

INTERJECTION from Jeffrey: Hello there. It's been brought to my attention that maybe not a lot of people are reading my interjections, so if you get anything out of this or just want to hear more or just want me to feel good. Tell your friends that you like Jeff's interjection. So.. here's my thought for today. We're on day number 10 of our trip, and I am going to be completely honest with you all - the kindness is a little less ... cute. You know how after you've been hanging around with folks for a long time, and you're hungry, and you're tired, and you're smelly, and you're diarrhea medication isn't working... you know.. you're slightly less tolerant of people's foibles. So, we're at that point. NOW, don't think that this a bad thing, but recognize it is just a human thing. We are aware of our limitations with each other... which is good, because we're also realizing our limitations in a lot of other ways. You know, moving out of your comfort zone forces you to really reflect on your self in a whole wack of ways. So, the discomfort just means that you're moving into a new place... It's growing pains in some sort of way. So, the cuteness may be gone, but this means that we're all going to become a bit more authentic with each other... And, I think that the cuteness with this whole India experience has kinda disappeared too in a lot of ways... but I think that in the end, it's going to force is also to be a bit more authentic with the whole experience. Until next time - !

Finding the good deals,
Nadia and Andrea ( with a guest interjection by Mr. Poopy Pants)

Canadian (in)Tolerance and The Religious Coup (edited)

Here is the same blog with refined thoughts and sans grammar mistakes (thanks Cari)
Growing up in Canada, I believed (or rather was taught) that Canadians were amongst the most tolerant of people. Having been here in Darjeeling I can see that our efforts to be inclusive pale in comparison.
We visited St Joseph's school (I will have to blog about this wonderful place later) and I was amazed to find four different books of scripture at the entrance: verses from the Dhammapada (Buddhist scripture), The Bhagavad Gita (Indian scripture), The Quran, and The Bible. I don't know any Canadian school that would do this. I can see the protests already. They also celebrate all the major holidays of the region's most popular religions. Kids are exposed to all the different teachings, practices, rituals, with no emphasis of one over the other (despite it being technically a Catholic run school).
Father Creamer talked about how North America has made religion taboo. Something to be done behind close doors. You can choose your religion but don't do it in public, it might offend someone. Here in India religion is public, it's celebrated and revered. There are shrines everywhere, statues and paintings by sidewalks, pictures of Gods, people praying and wearing a tilaka (a red mark on their foreheads as a symbolizing the third eye associated with many Hindu Gods). Here in Darjeeling Hindus, Buddhists, Sikhs, Tibetans, Christians and people of many other religions live together and live out their religion publicly. Wonderful.
Efforts in our Canadian society although well intentioned seem laughable now (IE changing the name of the Christmas tree to The Holiday Tree and hanging Menorahs off their branches). It's efforts like these that have secularized religion in the name of tolerance and isolate us from each other. Since we practice religion behind close doors, there is no chance to be exposed and learn from someone else's practice. There is no chance for dialogue. You can be different than me and pray to a different God just don't let me see it. I can't wait to keep learning more from India and its people.

Kids are Kids and Parents are Parents

I am going to keep it short today (a relative term, especially for me). Today we got to visit St. Joseph's Northpoint School; established quite a while ago by Jesuit priests, today the school educates about 1200 boys (600 borders and 600 day scholars) from grades 3 through 12.

The school itself is old and the campus quite beautiful; it has sprawling grounds, all sort of facilities (including 2 pools) and four houses, just like the British schools Rawlings made us all (or most, at least) familiar with through her tales of Harry Potter at Hogwarts. The school is remarkable in that it is a Catholic school with an open and inclusive attitude towards all religions, where all are encouraged to share their customs and beliefs. The school is unremarkable (or quite plain) in that it is a school just like any school and kids go there to learn (or not).

In many ways the school was completely different from my own middle school, or any other elementary, middle or high school in Winnipeg, and in more ways it was exactly the same. We got there early in the morning for us (at about 8 a.m) but since the borders had been up since 5:30 their day was well underway. We arrived in time for an assembly, where some students were being honored for excellence in a football (soccer) tournament. All of the upper students were lined up in the courtyard single file for the assembly. Just like our school assemblies the sound system was iffy and it was really hard to hear, but each class stood in single file and listened attentively. I can't wait to tell my students about this as they complain about sitting on the floor during school assemblies....

After the assembly and a tour of the entire school we got to sit in on a few classes of our choice. The classrooms were nothing like our classrooms today, rather they resembled what I would call the old-fashioned school house, with benches attached to desks which opened from the top; they were lined up in rows with about 30 kids per class. When a couple of us sat down for the class, the pupils who kindly gave up their spots had to squish in with others as there was not an extra seat in the room. There was exactly what was needed and nothing more. This was also true of the walls, there were no posters with encouraging or funny sayings, nor was their any of the students' work...the walls were bare.

But this is where the differences ended; before, after and during, the classes could have taken place just about anywhere in the world. As we walked into the grade 11 English class with the teacher and he began to introduce us, we were promptly reminded by the students that is was still break and they had another five minutes. When the class began, and the teacher worked through Macbeth's decision to kill Duncan, some students actively participated, others listened quietly, and still others stared around the room, fidgeted with coins and pens and whispered to each other. Just before the class ended the teacher introduced us and asked if the students wanted to ask questions and they were shy to speak at first, just as they would be in my classroom (they also may not have been that interested, as would also happen in my classroom).

In talking with the Rector of the school, Father Kinley, he described the early years as affectionate and willing to learn, the middle years as goofy and playful, neither all that concerned with studies or hygene, as long as they were well fed, and the senior years as young adults, working to gain their independence and focusing on their future university careers...just like kids all over the world.
In the same conversation he also described the parents as 50% of his problem, with their "concerns" and "complaints".....luckily for him if one gets to be too much he can suggest that they may wish to attend another school......if only......
All in all it was an awesome experience...yet another experience to be grateful for....kids are kids no matter where they are in the world....which makes Father Kinley's offer to come and teach there for a year very tempting to contemplate.

Peter, Nepal, and Mary

This morning, a few of us got up early to go to a Catholic service that was given in Nepalese. The clouds had rolled in so that we could barely see three people in front of us. We actually got up at 4:30am when the call to mecca was given, as well as the call from all the dogs and roosters waking up. We arrived at church 45 minutes early, due to the keen navigational skills of Wiki Matt. The choir loft was filled with children who sang the service - as well as played the drums, tambourines, and guitars. The priest had a homily, which none of us understood, but we give him a 9 out of 10. We base this on his use of hand gestures, tone of voice, and the fact that despite us not understanding, we all felt extremely guilty for at least 5 minutes. Surprisingly Alleluia and Amen were words that we understood - we are pretty sure Krishma referred to Christ. Andrea though she heard them sing 'three bowls of rice', Anna thought it was 'three blind mice', Matt thought they said 'Canadians are nice'. We all learned that when in doubt, the sign of the cross can get you out of any jam.
Stay Gold.
Andrea, Ken, Anna, and Nadia

Attatchment and East vs West

One of out guides told us that people in India are happier than people in North America. While his comment was not a double blinded randomized control tial, it made me think.
He added 'In North America a person has air conditioning and a nice soft bed with a roof above their heads and yet they can't sleep. Here a rickshaw driver sleeps in his car by the side of the road and he sleeps comfortably for a solid 8 hours'. And we did see them. Sleeping on the backseat of the rickshaw looking very comfortable (it seems like the rickshaw is going to be the most important symbol of my trip to India). We also saw people sleeping outside by their fruit/merchandise stands on makeshift beds.
He says the problems with the West are due to attatchment. He says we are too attatched to material things, our jobs, our relationships with each other. The more you have the more you come to need and depend on those things. 'Look at you', he said, 'you have air conditioning, so you think you need AC on the bus'. 'You think you need what you have'.
Well, Lee, thanks for your stories, your teachings on Indian history, and your wisdom.

Fear and Gratitude

A free day in Darjeeling.....this city in the clouds.....it is really quite incredible....I have never been 7000 m above sea level and it is really amazing....the mist and clouds hang in the air around me and though it is damp the air is cool and refreshing....which is a great relief after the heat and humidity of Delhi.

As I sit down to write I am not sure what is going to come out and I feel a little bit of pressure to say something insightful or profound.....which may or may not happen....so here goes

Beyond everything I see around me in this country.....the people, the sights, and the culture, what I am really left with is myself and how these events impact my life, attitudes and perspectives, and what I am noticing is two things.....the first is the continually growing sense of gratitude for every aspect of my life, and the second is my willingness to face my own fears and judgements and grow as an individual.

Before getting on the train to Darjeeling I was terrified and extremely anxious. A couple of train rides in Egypt some 20 years ago had left me somewhat traumatized and I was dreading the trip. In my life I do not suffer a great deal of anxiety (another reason I am grateful) and so this was not at all easy to deal with; I found myself talking about it quite a bit as I figured if I expected the absolute worst nothing could be as bad as my imagination. I also knew that despite my fears I would be able to handle whatever came my way, even though I really didn't want to.

As it happens, I didn't have to......through a stroke of fate, luck, karma, or random coincidence, I was one of the lucky 4 upgraded to first class. The experience I had been dreading was not only tolerable but enjoyable. I spent 22 hours with 3 others, whom I probably would not have spent that time with otherwise (at least the combination of all 4 of us), and we had an awesome time.

In my life I have always been grateful. Many years ago I heard the phrase"Make gratitude your attitude" I have taken that to heart (not perfectly, but I try). I know I am lucky....I have a loving, supportive family, awesome friends, both old and new, and a job I love. I never lack for anything, and while I do love to qvetch (the Yiddish word for complain) I know I have nothing to complain about. But as I stepped off that train yesterday I felt more gratitude than I have ever felt in my life. I felt like I was completely and totally full, and there would not even be room for one millimeter more thankfulness in me...while others may have thought this was no big deal, and some (many) even enjoyed the 3rd class experience (more power to them).....to me it was a minor miracle that I escaped it and I was and still am grateful.

What I am finding is that with each day I spend here, I have more and more reason to be grateful....again more than I thought possible....whether it is to have a free day, easy access to internet, my life in Canada, or just having toilet paper in the bathroom, with each moment that passes I find another reason to be grateful.....and I am pretty sure I am not alone.....

So that was the first part of my observation of myself.......the second is that of facing fears and knowing I will be okay

I am thankful I was spared (or at least eased into) the 3rd class train experience for now (as I discovered I have 3 more trains ahead of me.....not one as I thought) but I know that had that not happened I would have been okay. I may not have enjoyed it but I would have made it through and been okay....I can handle whatever life sends my way (and again, hopefully remain grateful doing so).

Once we got off of the train we all piled into three jeeps to take us on the journey into Darjeeling. Though only about 75k away from where we arrived, the journey up the 7000m into the Himalayan moutains took about 3-4 hours. There were 4 or 5 of us to each jeep and as it happened 2 of the people in my jeep were not fond of heights, to say the least. Usually when one person asks another if they are okay the response is a yes, I'm fine, often even when we are not. As I asked the person sitting beside me if he was okay, his response was, "No. I think I am going to die here." And as we made our way up the mountain, my head hanging out the window taking in the sights, in quite a bit of awe, this person struggled with his own anxieties. I tried to be helpful and encouraging and hopefully I was (I told him to tell me to shut up if I was being more annoying than helpful, but he is an awfully kind soul and may have been too polite), and eventually we made our way up the mountain and arrived....and he had made it...facing that fear....and my thought was what can't you do now?

This trip has been a valuable reminder of what I am capable of (what we all are) and that fears can be faced and overcome.....at least that is what I am hoping with 3 more train rides to come...and I am even more grateful than I was before.....more grateful than I ever thought possible......

The Rickshaw Miracle

The content of our trip has been well documented by my classmates so I will concentrate on things that have made an impact on me. Couple of points before I tell you about the miracle:
-When I backpacked Europe with friends we used to make fun of the tour buses full of (what we thought were) ingnorant tourists, sitting in their air conditioned bus separated from the people in whose country they were visiting. And now I have become that tourist. I let someone else drive and decide our intinerary. I even got off at one of our stops and thought to myself 'where are we now?' We walked around and then suddenly I realized we were in Akbar's tomb (Akbar was the greatest of the Moghul emperors who consolidated Hindustan). I felt ashamed, I had become an obsrver, passive, missing most of what I should be getting from the experience.
-The Bus. The air-conditioned bus. It is a sort of mini-Canada. An embassy on wheels. Inside we are separated from the people whose country we came to see. We interact with other Canadians, we speak English, we eat snacks and drink bottled water. As soon as we get out of the bus it is like getting out of the air plane. 'Oh yeah we are in India'. We are are accosted by sales people trying to make ends meat; many of us are annoyed.
-A classmate said to me he felt we were treating the sales people like objects, and not like real people. He was right. We walk pass them and ignore them (if you talk to them they will hassle you to buy something for a very very long time). We are getting to know the monuments of India without getting to know its' people.
The Miracle:
We were going out for supper in Jaipur with the group. We walk to the restaurant for dinner and we are approached by countless beggars, sales people and rickshaws. We eat dinner. Three of us want to go buy some drinks (don't tell Fr Creamer) so we can take them back to our rooms. We consult with a rickshaw driver who thinks he recognizes one of our classmates and they begin to talk. The driver is convinced he knows him from before and even hugs him. All of a sudden his demeanmor changes and so do ours. He offers to drive us to the liqueur store for free. We get on the rickshaw. He talks to us about his family, we tell him about Canada. He helps us bargain for the best price, even drives us to a different location aftert the first place wants to overcharge us. We get our drinks for the local price. He drives us back to our hotel and he doesn't want to charge us anything. We had bridged that inmense gap between cultures. He wasn't just an object trying to rip us off. We weren't just an object he could exploit for money. And it was then that I first felt we were starting to know India and it's people; not just its' monuments. It felt like a little miracle. My friend said 'I felt I was in a high after that', and so did I.

First Class, Second Class, Third Class, Floor

Well we've made it safe and sound to the top of world...or so it seems. We are currently in the foothills of the Himalayas, 7000 feet up and literally with our heads in the clouds. The trip getting here is a story in itself. It all starts with a train ride, a social experiment in the making.

As we made our way through the crowded and dusty train station we were promptly advised by signage that there was to be no spitting and to notify any police of mysterious baggage since it could be a bomb. The Hawkers were there in all their glory and the mercury was quickly rising as we found ourselves showered in our own sweat yet again. After multiple stretches that inevitably led to the sniffing of our underarms to ensure that we had maintained that fresh and sure feeling...it was time to load the train. The entire group was assigned their seats until it came to the last four names on the list that was printed in alphabetical order. This meant that Eddsel, Deanna, Cari and Andrea were left to find car 1A. As we rushed down the tarmac trying to find the car we were hastily ordered that it would be the next one. With 5 minutes left to board we jumped on the train with the hopes of figuring it out as we went. After an hour of language barriers, backpacks and standing between cars, we were sure they would show us the way to the balcony of the caboose. We found the room, and to our shock and delight we were upgraded to a birth in first class.

INTERJECTION from Jeff: Did you ever see the movie TITANIC. You know, that part about first class sitting around drinking tea and doing not much of anything important, but second and third class - below the deck - playing music, drinking good drink, and having a heck of a time. The thing that those folks in first class didn't realize is that in addition to the unwashed dishes and the traces of E-Coli, we had a fantastic time with a few Nepali guys who were playing drums, singing Hindi songs, and just having a heck of a time. I am sure that those folks in first class had a good time, but really - when you die... And this is a real possibility sometimes - would you rather have lived a REAL life or had a nice cabin with A.C.... okay, don't answer.

INTERJECTION from Andrea: Fine I won't. But we did have a rather nice waiter, extra pillows, air freshener sprayed on the drapes, and I'm sure if they asked, they may have tucked us in at night. We seemed to have been fed every two hours and out of real dishes, not boxes. There seemed to be no lack of visits from those living and loving the real life, especially when it came to using out toilets.

INTERJECTION from Nadia: My spot was definitely the most peaceful. I was sitting on the top bunk, as the men bellow me were sharing a spot. So - I had all my luggage and my little space all to myself. Even the waiters ignored me. Having walked to the front of the train, we did see how they prepared the food, and washed the dishes without soap and in a little sink outside of the bathroom.

The trip up the mountain is another story.....