In the festive spirit!

Somehow managed to get a post Christmas illness, so I'm a few days late in typing this, but had an amazing Christmas weekend relaxing with my Indian mom and dad, and it truly felt like Christmas with family - sorry mom and dad! It's almost time for the New Year celebrations, so I've uploaded some photos for you all. Hope everyone at home had a Christmas that was as lovely and peaceful as mine. Thank you B and S. X

Sugathi (left), who helped me to pick our five beautiful sarees and cooked amazing food which I miss already!
Bharavi (right), who spoke many wise words of wisdom, introduced me to a super Hindi film (Jab We Met - check it out!), arranged a fun itinerary for me, and shares my love of coffee!
Didn't manage to snap a sneaky photo of Abhilash (Bharavi and Sugathi's son) who ferried me around (taking a motorbike in a saree through Hyderabad was so fun!), is the king of train ticket booking and took us to a Telugu film - yes, two foreign films in one weekend!

 

One of my new sarees, which Sugathi helped me to sew so that I could wear it on Christmas day. This is the beautiful view from their balcony.

Christmas eve, carols at a church, after one of Sugathi's delicious meals. We heard songs from Jingle Bell Rock to Mary Did You Know, my favourite carol from school!

Splashed out on a Western meal in a fancy hotel on Christmas day with two of the Hyderabad volunteers, Holly and Alice.

Now it's time to go and find out what tomorrow has in store for me. From all the money we've collected, I think that there could be a lot of cake. Wishing you all a Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas from Sri Chaitanya!

Part 2 of my adventure...

Have just wasted precious minutes of 'power time' crying with relief, after checking UCAS and finding out that I have an unconditional offer from Durham. Still waiting on more offers, but now I can stop worrying about having to take a second gap year! As much as I want to go and celebrate with a packet of oreos and a mocha sachet, I think it's time to put an end to the guessing and finish my Haailand story.

Haailand was, to my surprise, a theme park. Although probably more of a funfair by Western standards, it felt pretty surreal laughing with the children on  rides from fairground horses to swinging ships. The teachers all joined in and loved it! I was brought back to reality as we were taken through some gates to the eating area. Underneath brightly covered marriage marquees sat hundreds of school children eating airplane style curries. We sat down in a circle with our unfortunately disappointing meals (tomato rice like we had in the morning, and over salted curd rice), but the two pieces of cake given to everyone made up for it!

The most exciting (and embarrassing) part of the day was yet to come. We headed to the changing rooms to put on Indian swim dresses - full length trousers and a multicoloured top. Only one teacher dared join me in the water and she was sensible enough to bring a second Punjabi. I, on the other hand, had to battle with a too small top, and broken elastic around the waist of my trousers... in a wave pool. My problems began when we all sat down in the water as giant waves rolled towards us and I frantically began asking around for a pin. When the other madam - who was enjoying herself far too much, screaming and splashing people - realised my problem, she decided to tug on my trousers so that they came down! My tummy hurt so much from laughing, but looking back, it's strange how everyone found it funny when even showing your ankles is inappropriate if you are a woman.

A pin was eventually found and we made our way towards the slides, girls and boys in separate pools of course. After screaming our way down all of the rides, I attempted to give the girls a swimming lesson. Whilst constantly being splashed and dragged around in the shallow water, it was more than a little bit difficult, but I think I did see some floating from a few of the girls. Our final stop was the rain dance. And I've never seen anything like it. Boys and girls were enclosed in separate areas screaming as each new song came on. I have to say I felt a little bit out of my league surrounded by tenth class girls showing off their Bollywood dancing.

The girls spent forever in the changing rooms, putting oil into their already shining hair and making sure their plaits were perfect. But eventually, after stopping to watch a dance show, we made it back to the buses, exhausted.  Lemon rice was quickly eaten, plates tossed into the buses, and ice creams bought. Everyone slept on the way home. Everyone except one madam, who had been given the job of answering Venkayamma madam's phone...which rang every five minutes. It took me four tries to get the code right on the lock on my door. I've never been so tired. My trip to the Haailands gave me a new insight into Indian life and culture, one that I didn't expect to find, and for that reason, it is a memory that I will cherish.

haai!

Will try not to use too many exclamation marks in this post, but I had such an exciting Saturday that it's going to be difficult! Also just wanted to say "haai" after my last, slightly depressing, post. All of the chocolate bars are eaten and everyone knows how much chocolate cheers me up! I'm having some difficulty typing because I have a ridiculously painful lump on my finger, but I'll give it a go! (That's three exclamation marks already.)

 

It wasn't until gone 11pm that I went to bed on Friday night, smelling of garlic, and even then I couldn't sleep because of the music coming from the Pooja celebration at the temple. I had stayed downstairs to help prepare food for the 80 children coming with us "on tour" the next day. Even though peeling garlic cloves was the only task I was trusted with - and Venkayamma madam and Sri Devi madam found it hilarious to watch me - I felt like a real Indian girl sat cross legged on the floor in my saree wearing the new gold bangles I had bought earlier in the day. The trip to "Haailand" or "The Highlands" as I thought it was called until we arrived, had, like most exciting things here, been the main topic of conversation at school all week. Slowly I managed to work out more and more details about the "Highlands" and I eventually realised that I would be going on a planned school trip rather than a family trip to a place "with some green places" where "some children are playing".

Gopi knocked on my door at 4am. I was ready by 4.30am. But, of course, thanks to the joys of 'Indian time' we didn't leave - girls and boys on their separate buses - until gone seven. And even then we only moved a couple of metres before Ramana Sir stopped the bus to crack a coconut in front of it for good luck. At last, we were on our way, but not for long. We stopped at three more temples before we reached Ongole. Venkayamma madam and Ramana Sir took a coconut to each one and we passed around temple kumkum. By this point, I was longing for my bed, but we were crammed so tightly into the bus that sleeping wasn't an option. Instead, I listened to the girls' constant singing, booed with them as the bus full of screaming boys sped past us and cheered as we - slightly dangerously - overtook. The race continued, until we reached our destination, unfortunately in second place - I suspect that the male bus driver was on the boys team all along.

I ate my delicious tomato rice (the garlic tasted particularly good I'd say) in the bus park, full of anticipation. And, because of my painful finger and hungry tummy, that's where I'm going to leave you for now on a cliff hanger of sorts...

It just hits you.

It's strange how homesickness just hits you. I'd been getting along just fine on my own and loving every minute, until yesterday. Yes, I've had my good days and my bad days, but  this time was different. I made it to my seventh, and final, class of the day, absolutely exhausted as usual, but with a good lesson planned out. I have to be strict with 2nd C Section, otherwise their bad behaviour gets out of hand, but I just couldn't work up the energy to put a stop to mischief before it escalated. I'm not entirely sure what set me off, but the combination of the heat, my exhaustion, my frustrations about teaching and the awful beating that I'd witnessed earlier (the worst part was when the teacher sat Rajeswari, who was in floods of tears, on the floor to redo her hair, after she had tugged at it and beaten her so much that her perfect ribboned plaits had become a tangled mess) had me running to the bathroom trying to hold back tears. Everytime I thought I'd composed myself another wave would hit me and I'd go rushing back so that the children didn't see me cry. Eventually Haseena madam and Vesundhara madam came to see what was up and I broke down. I couldn't explain to them why I was crying, because they wouldn't understand what it's like for me to work in a school like Sri Chaitanya every day, knowing how different things are back home. The only words I managed were, "I want my mummy".

I can't remember the last time I used the word mummy, but it set me off again.

I cried in Haseenas arms.

I cried when a boy from a passing school bus from Ongole put his hand through the window, pulled my hair and shouted "white girl".

I cried walking to the bus stand with one of the tenth class girls.

I cried when Venkayamma asked me what had happened.

And finally I cried in my room. I stopped trying to breath deeply and gain control - the Indian way - and let myself cry until my eyes were dry.

I still find it strange when I think of how I was unable to stop the tears from falling. Of course I miss home, but I've never felt homesick or wanted to be back home in the UK. As quickly as it came, the homesickness went. A parcel of kitkats, timeouts and dairy milks made sure that it wasn't coming back. Thank you Grandad, and thank you everyone who has sent me things in the post. Lots of love to you all.

Brain Pain.

Struggling at the moment. Over two hundred General Knowledge exams (which I don't even know the answers to!) to mark and all I want to do is sleep. Overworking and being woken up at 4.30am every day by Tenth Class Tuition is beginning to get the better of me. And to top it all off the sun is back. As much as I feel like teaching seven lessons a day is too much, I keep saying to myself, "if the other teachers can do it, I can too!"

Have invited some girls to my room to help me make Christmas cards and decorations so hopefully I'll have something interesting to tell you all on Monday!

"Birthday wishes", as they say in India.

On Friday I had just succeeded in silencing 2nd C, my final class of the day, when all of the students were called downstairs. To start with I assumed that it was for prayer, although that has only ever been in the morning but I was told to stand with Venkayamma madam rather than joining the teachers. From talking to a family who spoke very good English (they had lived in America for six years and the youngest boy, born in the U.S., described himself as an American!), I soon gauged that they were relatives of the school's founder, who was also present. It was their daughter's (and I'm assuming the founder's granddaughter) birthday, so the whole school sang happy birthday to her and then every single student shook her hand saying "birthday wishes" and took three sweets - I've never seen so many eclairs and kacha mangoes! The teachers were all given an silver air tight container full of sweets with 'presented by Hasita' on the back, which has proved useful for the Bombay mix type food I buy at the bus stand. As far as birthdays go, it was by far the most extravagant giving of sweets - or chocolates as they say in India - that I have seen. All of the children in the school give sweets, and sometimes ladoo or cake too. One day I had three pieces of cake, which helps explain my ever increasing waistline, but even the teachers were slightly bemused by the afternoon's events. Or maybe they were just disgruntled that school finished late!

As I walked out of school the founder invited me to the birthday celebration and come mealtime, Venkayamma called me down to go to the founder's house, the same house which I went to with the boys for Deepawali. The image in my head of a small family affair was quickly dispelled by the huge pile of shoes outside the door. We struggled to find seats in front of the decorated platform where two girls (the celebration was also for the birthday girl's sister, whose birthday was few days later) covered in gold jewellery and flowers, much like the two Anushas at their weddings, sat on silver throne type chairs. Similar to Balu's function, I was asked to take my turn, with Venkayamma madam, sprinkling rice on the girls' heads and pose for a photo. We watched the gift giving - clothes seem to be the gift of choice in India - and the cutting of the cake. The family then proceeded to feed each other cake whilst everyone watched and the photographer captured it all on film! The food, buffet style like every celebration that I've been to, was delicious. Giant slices of cake covered in pink icing, fish fry, prawns and curd meant that I could hardly walk home. As we left we were given a glacier cherry on a stick and some kind of sweet wrapped in a banana leaf, but that wasn't the only gift we were given. As relatives of the founder, my family was also given all of the giant cans of leftover veg curries, which we are now eating every day, breakfast, lunch and dinner. I don't think I'll be forgetting that celebration in a while!

A day of excitement

The new Sai Baba temple has been the main topic of conversation at Sri Chaitanya for over a week now and the children were more than a little bit excited for its opening (and the holiday) on Thursday. For me there was a second excitement, Balu's function. So I took tiffin at Siva Kumari's house, put on my saree with her help and set off, with flowers in my hair, on Ramana's bike to one of the villages, full of anticipation.

Sitting side saddle on a motorbike wearing a saree is a lot harder than it looks and walking through the crowds and crowds of people at Ramana's quick pace was equally as challenging, but finally we made it to Balu's house - although this year he's living with us because of his tenth class morning and evening tuition. The one roomed house was already full of people but I was greeted by an even more welcoming than usual Venkayamma and her sister who led me to a chair in the outside area. Three ladies were working their way between the chairs, putting kumkum below our bindis, two streaks of yellow paste on our necks and covering our feet in the paste too. The paste was made from turmeric symbolizing goodness, and even though Ramana told the ladies only to paint my toes rather than my whole feet (maybe he thinks 'goodness' isn't a quality I possess?), I felt almost completely Indian!

Whilst I ate a huge second breakfast of various fried treats and some sweet ones too, Balu was dressed in his white pancha which is like a loin cloth. Then different relatives and friends took it
n turns to sprinkle rice on his head, be given a small parcel of Indian treats and pose for a photo - including me! Afterwards we sat, chatted (although I was mostly just waggling my Indian head waggle) and drank chai, before heading to the temple to take meals. The amount of people at the temple was insane. Everywhere I looked there were crowds and crowds of people all heading for food, or queuing to get inside the temple. Venkayamma madam had to fight her way through the crowd to get us all plates for the meal. And then it was my turn to fight my way forward, in my saree, to be served the five or six curries, as well as rice, chips and sweet things. With an overflowing plate, and my phone, camera and gift from the function in my left hand, I struggled to balance everything standing up, whilst eating with my right hand and keeping up with everyone else's fast eating pace. But somehow I managed not to spill anything on my saree, although I definitely could have done with a lie down after the huge plateful of curry!

The excitement continued into the evening, when Ramana let me come to the cinema with him! We sat on sofas - apparently a Tangutur special - and waited for the curtains to part and the film to begin. In general, Indian theatres show only one film each at three or four different times during the day, but that still didn't mean I had a clue which film we were seeing! Ramana told me it was 'fantasy', and fantasy it certainly was. In Telugu films everything seems to be overly exaggerated, which I suppose is lucky, because by and large I managed to follow the plot. In the interval (yes, there is an interval!), we stepped outside ears ringing from the ridiculously loud music, and drank sprite. Afterwards, Ramana told me it was an excellent film and I guess I'll just have to believe him!