Ode to chai
in
At 1:40pm every Monday through Saturday, as I sit in the back of the teacher staff room, any and all conversations, even those that I am a part of, become slightly muted as my concentration focuses heavily out the window looking into the hallway where anyone must pass before entering the room. Yes, it’s that time of the day, and I’ve been conditioned like one of Pavlov’s dogs to want nothing more than what I eagerly expect and wait for at that moment: chai.
Dineshbhai, the chaiwalla, with his characteristic short-stepped scuffle, darts around the room from teacher to teacher, dutifully pouring the hot, ginger and cardamom-infused goodness into small glass cups. Today, what amazed me more than my typical euphoria-inducing cup of chai was that in the months that I’ve observed Dineshbhai, I’ve never once seen him perform his daily routine lacking his unique demeanor of warmth, devotedness, and energy. As I was thinking about this today, I realized that somehow, in a way I can’t explain, his unwavering character makes the chai taste even better. Cheers, Dineshbhai! I raise my miniature chai glass to you.
It's a bird, it's a plane...
in
At first, driving through Bardoli the other day, I thought I saw hundreds, maybe even thousands, of birds flying in all sorts of crazy patterns in the sky. But I then noticed that they weren’t birds at all – they were all kites. January 14th marks the day of the very popular kite festival, and in some cities, there are kite-cutting competitions where kids will fly their kites, sprint through the streets, and with their kites try to cut the strings of any and all other kites in the sky. They’re just practicing, I was told, but it seemed with all the kites stuck in powerlines and discarded on the sides of roads that the battle had already begun.
High score!
in
Got a teacher addicted to Angrybirds on my ipod. He finds me every morning and says, "Ok. Where is your ipod. I must get to more levels." Cross-cultural exchange is thriving here!
Nay sal mubarak (Happy new year), friends!
That's my Co-teacher!
in
Today, I witnessed a milestone occur in one my classes today. To illustrate a story in one of the units about a gang fight, Yogesh (my co-teacher) grabbed a student by the shoulder and pretended to stab him in the stomach. You probably have two questions: "Why is that a big deal?" and "Is that even appropriate in a classroom?" To answer the second question first, it's India. So why is it a milestone?
Here's what a typical English class looks like at the high school. Teacher reads a paragraph of a story. Teacher asks a couple students to stand up and read the paragraph back. Teacher verbally translates the paragraph sentence by sentence into Gujarati. Rinse and repeat until the story is finished. Part of the reason that I'm here is to be an example of a teacher that deviates from this model and have my co-teacher pick up on some strategies that can get students to become more engaged learners. For example, I've drawn pictures on the board to go along with the unit, played simple games, and told "fun" and relevant stories from my own life. What Yogesh did today is something no other teacher at this school would ever have done in their whole career of teaching. By no means is this a sure sign that English is going to now thrive wherever Yogesh walks, but I've learned that developing as a teacher happens a half-step at a time. I forgot to give Yogesh constructive feedback for what I saw him do today. I'll remember to do that tomorrow, so maybe that's the second half-step to go with the one he made today.
Welcome Back!
in
My apologies for not posting for over 2 months now. Circumstances for me in the village had been taxing on me leading up to a much needed break back home in the states. I guess the hiatus I took from blogging shows how I felt I needed to take more than a few steps back from the whole situation and just recuperate in more ways than one. But now having sorted out visa issues and gotten on the plane back to India, I'm back, honestly feeling renewed and ready to finish the commitment I made to the best of my ability.
Having been gone for such a long time, I received a number of different welcome back's. My Spoken English students wouldn't stop telling me that I was "late" and that Zach had been trying to convince them that the reason was because I had been attacked by a leopard. My co-teacher, shaking hands with one hand and wrapping the other around my shoulder, told me that teaching alone felt weirdly different and was glad that I was back. Everyone had their own way of saying welcome back, but it wasn't until last night that I really felt like I received the homecoming India was waiting to give me.
Leslie, program director for Princeton in Asia, was flying into Mumbai to visit our site, so I had left with our town driver to pick her up from the airport. Vimul, our driver, is one of the most trustworthy guys we have in the village, and in more than 25 years of driving experience, he had never once been in an accident (and that's saying a lot driving in India). Someone who rides with Vimulbhai for the first time would never know his safety track record though. He weaves in and out of traffic, aggressively cutting off cars to jockey for position on the roads and highways that are more often than not extremely congested.
It was around 6:00pm, a few hours into our trip back to the village when Vimulbhai swerved into a lane in between two big trucks. Unexpectedly, the truck in front of us slammed on its breaks, forcing Vimulbhai to make an abrupt stop as well. I tensed up for a split second, waiting for the sound of screeching tires from the truck behind us and bracing for a possible impact. No sound, so I loosened up. But then BAM. The back of my head slammed on the headrest. I threw up my hands quick enough to stop myself from hitting the seat in front of me. Glass from the back window showered over us. The driver of the truck behind us was an extremely young boy, 14 years old, and wasn't tall enough enough to see over his dashboard that Vimulbhai had swerved right in front of him.
Thankfully no one was seriously hurt. Sore necks and a bruise on the head were the worst injuries. I just sat in the back of the van while Vimulbhai, the truck driver, and other witnesses yelled at each other in a mixture of Gujarati and Hindi that I could barely understand. Yes, India, I'm back, and I missed you, too.
Some Poor Word Choice.. That's All
in
In a lesson about disposing waste to protect the environment and preventing animals from eating harmful plastic garbage, one of the comprehension questions startled me:
What do you feel for dumb animals?
I really don't know how I feel...
A Different Kind of Science Fair
in
Yesterday, I was told that some of the 6th grade students were going to be put on a small science presentation for the faculty. I was expecting something along the lines of what I would find at a science fair back at home. I mean, how complex could a presentation given by a 6th grade student get, right?
So a couple students walked into the staffroom, they were probably close to about half my height. They had with them a toy car and truck, with some wires coming out of the body of the truck attached to a battery. I guess nothing too out of the ordinary yet. The students arranged their project on the table, then with straight backs, they began their presentation. I couldn't understand a lot of it since they were speaking in Gujarati, but I caught words like resistor, capacitor, photoelectric diode, etc.
They proceeded to do their demonstration, and honestly, I was blown away. In a nutshell, they designed and developed a miniature prototype for a photoelectric diode installation on the front of a car that can detect incoming beams of light and automatically adjust the brightness of its headbeams. They argued that this would dramatically improve highway safety at night when trucks often leave their highbeams on, temporarily blinding incoming traffic.
Afterwards, I took a short trip down memory lane, recalling my days in high school when I built robots for Science Olympiad. Unlike these students' inventions however, mine just drove around and picked up small objects. Needless to say, I was humbled and thoroughly impressed.
Getting a Little Too Friendly?
in
I posted a while ago about how I felt my how my co-teacher, Yogesh, and I were really starting to get along both on a friendship and professional level. We had this conversation earlier today. I'm not exactly sure what it indicates.Yogesh:(seeing some of our students walking across the courtyard) Look, those are some of our kids.. OUR STUDENTS! I meant our students!
Me: Yes, our students. We are not married.
Yogesh: (laughs and sticks out his hand for a high-five)
Maybe this is why people keep saying that it's better to keep your personal life out of the workplace...
Monsoon Season's Scorching Exit
in
I'd been looking forward to this time of the year for months, when the monsoon rains come to an end and temperatures gradually start dropping to more reasonable levels. I was unaware, though, that for the last couple weeks before the monsoons bid their final farewell, temperatures go through the roof! Right now, temperatures are steady around 38-40˚C (100-105˚F), and they'll get up to 43˚C (110˚F) by next week!
Summers growing up in Georgia have taught me a few tricks that are coming in handy: pillow-flipping, t-shirts in the freezer, and wet towels to cover my face to name a few. Does anyone have any other suggestions or a free air-conditioning unit they could offer?
Happy Ganesh Chaturthi!
in
Ganesh Chaturthi is a 10-day long festival honoring Ganesh, the Hindu god associated with wealth, success, and the removal of obstacles. In the weeks leading up to the festival, idols of Ganesh are constructed all over India, some as small as an inch tall and others as tall as 25 feet! The celebration of Ganesh Chaturthi ends on the 10th day when the idols of Ganesh are taken to be submerged in bodies of water, symbolizing a sending off of Ganesh to his home in Kailash while also taking with him the misfortunes of his worshipers.
I came back to Kadod just in time for the last day of the festival, otherwise known as Ganesh Visarjan. In Kadod, there's a road that stretches down to the bank of the Tapi River, making this town the most convenient place for Ganesh Visarjan to take place within a 10km radius. From noon until 7:30pm today, more than 60 Ganesh idols were brought in on ornately decorated carts pulled by tractors and vans. With each procession, the devotees of that particular idol would dance to music booming from loudspeakers, throwing handfuls of pink-colored powder at each other and at bystanders, like me.
When I was asked several times by friends and familiar students to dance with them and play dodgeball with globs of colored powder, I felt so relieved to be back in Kadod where, unlike cities like Jaipur, I feel people make genuine efforts to make me feel like a part of their community. I was happy today being able to comfortably call Kadod my home away from home.
Jaipur - The Bad
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I apologize in advance to my readers if this post comes across as overly negative and pessimistic, but to be honest, there was a moment during my stay in Jaipur when I felt like I hit rock-bottom. I wanted out of India, away from the people that constantly call me Japanese and jeer at me saying sayonara, and the pervasive attitude of people trying to cheat every foreigner that crosses their paths.
It all started with Rahul, the rickshaw driver I thought had become a good friend in a city very foreign to me. If you read my last post, you know Rahul as the guy who took me and Emily to see a few of Jaipur's historic sites on the day. At the end of that day, he stopped his rickshaw on the aide of the road to tell me that we were his first American friends and asked us to shake his hand to seal our friendships. It wasn't a few minutes later when he asked if we could do him a favor and visit his uncle's store even if we don't decide to buy anything. His "uncle" was at best just a friend, and we were thrown into this store where the owner harassed us for half an hour trying to get us to buy his overly priced textiles. Well, we eventually got out of that place with clear expressions of anger and frustration. We didn't want anything to do with Rahul anymore, and I realized it was a huge mistake to have given Rahul my number because for next couple days, he called me 50+ times with the obvious intention of harassing me.
This next story still makes my blood boil every time I replay the events in my memory. Emily and I were window shopping through a bazaar near the Hawa Mahal when a man inside a chinaware shop stopped us to chat. His name was Akram, and he started talking to us about how everything in these bazaars are overpriced for tourists. Wow, at least one person understands our plight, I thought. After a few minutes, Akram told us that he had a girlfriend in the UK that he really wanted to write to, except he didn't know how to write in English. When he asked us if we could transcribe a short letter for him, we said we'd be more than happy to. So for the next 20 or so minutes, we helped Akram write a nice, albeit cheesy, love letter to his British girlfriend, Cecilia.
He wanted to return the favor and refused when we told him that it really wasn't necessary. He told us that he knew of a place on the outskirts of the city, a factory where a lot of the textiles and handicrafts sold to tourists in the city are manufactured. It was at this factory, he said, where we'd be able to buy everything for prices that would make us want to get 5 of everything.
All together, we take a rickshaw several kilometers away from the metro area to a dusty part of town where we were introduced to Raj, the owner of the the "factory." Raj looked more like a stereotypical thug than the owner of a textile factory with a clean-shaven goatee, expensive jeans, and a pair of Ray-Ban shades. This so-called "factory" was a single room with a couple large tables, rugs hanging on the concrete walls, and a couple people pretending to look busy stretching out fabric. He explained that production was slow that day because the power was out. An interesting excuse seeing as how there was no piece of machinery or even a light bulb for that matter in that room.
We then followed Raj up a set of stairs for the real reason why he wanted us there. The second level was essentially a giant fabric store teeming with other tourists that had been dragged there with the same promise that they'd be able to get dirt cheap prices for anything they wanted. We let him give us his shpeel about the amazing quality of his fabrics, but did not take too much time before telling him we wanted to leave. He was charging at least twice as much as Rahul's "uncle" had the day before. A Korean tourist named Jun Hyup approached me with a terrified look on his face, and asked me, in Korean, if this was a good place or not. I told him that he needed to get the heck out of the place. He told me that he was dragged there without knowing where he was being taken (we met up for dinner later that night to unwind and vent our frustrations about the city).
On the way out of the capital of tourist scams, I caught a pair of tourists who were on their way in and whispered to them that they needed to be careful. Akram, Emily, and I were walking away when Raj grabbed me by the arm and asked me why I was trying to kill his business. I told him that it was wrong for him to lie, to pay rickshaw drivers commissions to trick tourists into coming to his store, and to take advantage of peoples' trusts and unfamiliarity of India. Thinking that I didn't understand Hindi, he told Akram to never bring people like me back to his store.
We told Akram we were tired and that we wanted to just head back to where he had found us. We all hopped on a bus, paid our fare, and found seats near the back. After about 5 minutes, without a single word or eye contact, Akram got up and jumped off the bus, leaving us without a clue as to where we were going. What in the world? A couple really confusing minutes passed, and with a really bad feeling about things, I decided it would be wise for us to get off the bus and figure out where we were. I asked a nearby shop owner a few questions, and found out that the road we were on led out of the city into the desert north of Jaipur. He had tried to get rid of us in the desert.
It was then that I realized it had all been an act from the beginning. He didn't have a girlfriend in the UK. By asking us to help him write that letter, he was taking advantage of tourists' desires to help a local and make a friend in the process. Jaipur is teeming with people like Akram, people who get paid a small commission for deceiving people into false friendships, gaining their trusts, then leaving them after they've been milked for all they're worth.
For the rest of that day, as I kept rejecting call after call from Rahul, I thought to myself how much I wanted India to be a country I could one day fall in love with, a place I'd leave and know I'd return to someday. I know that to locals, I'm different. I look, talk, and act differently. Expecting them to not think this way would be highly unreasonable, but how should I react when people left and right are out to take advantage of the ways that make me different from them? In their minds, I'm nothing close to being one of them, I'm just another foreigner with money, some of which can end up in their pockets if they just play their cards right.
Rickshaw driver: Oh! Sayonara!
Me: Sorry, I'm not Japanese.
Rickshaw driver: Yes, you are! Sayonara!! (laughs and to his friends in Hindi) The Japanese is angry at me!
(I start walking away.)
Rickshaw driver: Angry Japanese! Where are you going?? Sayonara! (laughs and honks his horn) Sayonara!!
I'm sorry again for this very negative post. I'm sad that my time in India has to be shadowed gray by these experiences, but it's a part of India that unfortunately exists. I didn't come to India expecting everything to be perfect, but these past few days have pushed me really close to a breaking point I didn't think I would ever get near.
Jaipur - The Good
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I have an extreme love-hate relationship with Jaipur. Seeing the sights and what Jaipur has to offer for tourists was a great experience and one that I’m really glad I had. Unfortunately, I had to endure the other side of Jaipur where tourists are ruthlessly taken advantage of, tricked, and cheated into making poor decisions. I decided to blog about Jaipur in two entries. This one will focus on my brighter experiences in Jaipur, and the second will have a couple stories that pretty much sum up how a vacation can be ruined.
My first day in the Pink City, known for its historical architecture made with pink-colored sandstone, made me believe that I was in the city that so many travelers grow to love. Just a couple hours after sunrise, I climbed up a mountain ridge to a temple at the Royal Gaitor to catch a breath-taking view of Jaipur, surrounded by mountains and lakes. I was incredibly happy to finally be seeing this side of India for the first time. Being able to see more of the country that’s been home for me for the past 4 months was refreshing and kind of satisfying, too.
Earlier that morning, we hired Rahul, a rickshaw driver, to take us around a few sites for the day, and he was excellent at keeping up a friendly conversation as we went from place to place. He was quick to tell us how to be careful around the city and how to avoid cheaters who would try to sell us fake jewelry and handicrafts. We thought we lucked out with such a nice rickshaw driver!
The next stop was Amber Fort, a mammoth defensive structure built by the Meenas around 1600, which is made almost entirely out of red sandstone and white marble. We decided to opt out of paying for a guide and just take our time navigating our way through the hundreds of small corridors, up and down spiral staircases, and through the many open courtyards and gardens. Even without the guide telling us all the historical facets of the fort, its architecture, and its history, there was more than enough to just take in visually.
Right outside the fort, I bumped into a group of snake charmers. I’d heard that Jaipur still had a handful of snake charmers around the city despite it being outlawed in India in the late 1990s. As they probably do with most tourists passing by the area, they called me over to sit with them and gave me a flute to start serenading their snakes. As much as I tried, I could only get one note out of my flute, and I was afraid that the cobra staring straight at me was going to snap and take a bite. Thankfully, the older man sitting to my right took over musically, while the cobra was lifted out of its basket and around my neck! All I kept telling myself to calm down was ”This is normal… this is normal… this is normal…” I thanked them for the unique experience, gave them a small tip and made my way back to our wonderful rickshaw driver, Rahul.
In my following days in Jaipur, I visited the Surya Masjid (Sun Temple), also known as Monkey Temple, for its hundreds of primate inhabitants. Armed with a small bag of peanuts, I hiked up the long winding path up to the temple, occasionally holding out a peanut to have monkey swing down from a tree to snatch it away. A few times, I had to exercise caution as a group of 10-15 monkeys would start trailing behind me, knowing that the source of food was located in my left pocket.
One of the last things Emily and I did in Jaipur was high tea at the Rambagh Palace with Julia and Tom, a couple of Americans we met at our hotel. Sure, it was on the pricey side, but having the chance to share high tea and an amazing spread of snacks and sandwiches with Julia and Tom talking about all our travels, our experiences and thoughts made it well worth it. After tea, we devised a plan to be on business searching for the perfect hotel for our families in hopes to get a free tour of the palace. Unfortunately, we were only given a short tour of a room and a brief history lesson about the palace since most parts of the hotel are kept extremely exclusive for guests (paying a minimum of $690 for a night and as high as $12,800)!
I would've loved to have left Jaipur with only these experiences to remember, but my next post truthfully reveals another side of the city, and possibly more cities throughout India, that left a very bitter impression on my memory.
Happy Ramzan Eid!
in
Weeks earlier, one of my Spoken English students, Rizwan, invited Zach and myself to celebrate Ramzan Ei (also known as Eid ul-Fitr) with his family. Ramzan Eid marks the end of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan during which Muslims fast from sun up until sun down every day.
Traditionally, it is forbidden to fast on this day, so the day began with Zach, myself, and Rizwan's family sharing a small breakfast. We showered compliment after compliment on Rizwan for his enthusiasm in Spoken English, but his parents still told us that if he ever acts up during class, we shouldn't hesitate to do what we have to put him back in line. We didn't ask them to clarify.
At 1pm, I returned to Rizwan's house to have lunch, which was chicken biriyiani, assorted vegetables and popper (fried, fluffy, corn chips kind of dish). I arrived at 1, as I was told to do, but the rest of the family had already eaten right before I got to the house. I was really confused why I was the only one with a plate while the rest of them were just watching me. I begged them to at least a little with me, but I think they preferred and actually enjoyed just watching me eat.
After lunch, Rizwan's father drove me to the cosway (bridge) which had been underwater for the past few weeks due to the monsoon's. Just this morning, the waters had receded enough to let bikes and cars drive through. We spent at least half an hour walking through the water coming up to our ankles talking about the village, his career as a bus driver, and Rizwan's future. Although I have a long long way to go before I feel comfortable with my Hindi, I was so happy that I had this conversation with him and was able to spend time like this with someone in the village.
Closing Shop
in
Zach and I were just told by the principal that because of recent low turnout in our afternoon Spoken English class, the class would now only be offered in the morning. It's hard to not be discouraged by this. I've been struggling to answer why fewer and fewer students are coming out to class. Are they realizing that other tuition classes, particularly in the maths and sciences, are more valuable to attend after school? Were they expecting the class to be more fun and interactive? Do they just not have an incentive to spend an hour each day learning more English than they feel that they have to? Am I doing something wrong as a teacher?
I've had to constantly adapt and change my idea of what it means to be a teacher ever since teaching my first class 3 months ago, but grappling with setbacks time and time again has been making it hard for me to feel grounded enough to make concrete judgments and improvements on my teaching. Dhire, dhire...
Deepu, You Don't Have to Cover Your Face!
in
It was time to start Unit 6 in my 8th standard class. The unit was named "Time to Laugh" and consisted of a number of short jokes in the form of dialogues. Some of the jokes, I'll admit, were mildly humorous, but I was so shocked when I found this joke near the end of the unit.
Amar: Deepu, why have you covered your face?
Deepu: Because, my papa has told me, "Don't show me your face if you fail!"
Excuse me?! What does that teach the students?? I'm not sure, but it can't be anything very constructive..
Not the actual Deepu
Could It Be?!
in
Since the beginning of August, there have only been a handful of times when a day would pass without at least one heavy rain shower. Most days, it fluctuates between heavy rain and light drizzle, and the sky is always grey and overcast. I was walking to my afternoon Spoken English class when I looked up at the sky and saw something that made me just stop in stare.
Happy Krishna Janmashtami!
in
Today, Hindus around the world celebrated Krishna Janmashtami, a festival commemorating the birth of the god, Krishna. Thanks to Hiren Patel's enormous generosity, I was able to witness parts of the celebration in his community and with his family. According to Hiren, in years past, communities in Kadod would begin celebrating Janmashtami and have songs and prayers occurring 24 hours a day for 8 consecutive days. That practice has been left to tradition, but members of the Hindu community here will still pray and sing several hours a day during this time of celebration. Thank you again, Hiren!
Singapore!
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It's my first day back in Kadod after an amazing 10-day trip to Singapore! In a nutshell, 10 days felt way too short. Some people say that after that much time, you'll probably have seen most of what Singapore has to offer since it is a pretty small country. But despite that popular opinion, there was always too much to do each day I was there. I also owe it to so many of my friends that made my trip so much fun. Thanks Huei-Yu, Catalina, Jeffrey, Katherine, Natalie, Tiffy, and Jon for going out your ways to show me such a good time!
I hadn't been in India for an incredibly long time before I left to Singapore. It's been about 2 months, but I still had a minor case of culture shock once I arrived. On one of the first days I was there, I walked out of the MRT train station onto Orchard Road and couldn't stop myself from saying "Where am I?!"
Jon: I want a Milo Godzilla (an iced chocolate milk kind of drink with ice cream, whipped cream, and powdered chocolate on top).
Waiter: I'm sorry, sir, but we don't serve the Milo Godzilla. We have the Milo Dinosaur.
Jon: Well, can we have one of that then. But make it HUGE. (this is when he started getting his hands involved trying to explain HUGE to the waiter). Like, this kid's been in India for the past 2 months, so make it HUGE alright? And what's the best thing you guys have here?
Waiter: This Thai rice dish is very good.
Jon: Ok. What's BETTER than that?? And make it HUGE.
Thanks, Jon.
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