Tuesday 25 June 2013
"Dustbin, ma'am?"
Very short blog post, but I just had to tell you all. Sri Chaitanya High School finally has dustbins. Yes, that's right, the children no longer drop their packets and packets of crisps, sweets and chocolates on the floor, because we have invested in dustbins. It may be extremely annoying that every two seconds a child is asking you if they can go to the dustbin, but I feel like the school has a major breakthrough in waste management... even if the rubbish is still going to be thrown outside and burnt!
Saturday 22 June 2013
NV Party
It was a slow start to the new academic year here in Tangutur. Just as I thought I'd perfected my patience with 'Indian time', I was tested to new limits. But, of course, there is no point dwelling on the negatives - if anything a week of boredom and little work made me appreciate how lucky I have been through out my whole time here.
One evening which did, however, stand in stark contrast to my week of playing 'Bubble Shooter' and reading books was our night of 'campaigning '- or 'camping' or as I thought Sir said on the phone. At about 7.30pm - over an hour after the alloted meeting time - we set off with about eight other teachers to one of the villages armed with pamphlets and a loudspeaker. Upon arrival will all piled out and headed off to the childrens' houses. Yes, that's right, every single child's house. The reason? To tell them that school would be starting the following day. You would not believe my relief when I realised that this was our message. But, now that I'm sat here at a computer writing about it, I've jut realised how crazy it was. Can you imagine if headteachers in the U.K. went to every single childs house to tell them that school was starting? No wonder we found the whole evening so entertaining! As well as the army of teachers running around the village, the school's magic (van) was also circulating. It played a prerecorded message through in loudspeaker in Telugu telling all of the children to come to school!
Although the actual 'campaigning' was fun, the best part of the evening was being able to have a laugh and joke with the teachers again - even if they were very un-politically correct jokes! The evening started with the Social Sir raising the question, "Madam, are you thinking that all Muslims are terrorists?" and, in the short time it took me to overcome my astonishment and respond that this was not the case, Sai Sir (a Muslim) interjected with "Madam, I am a terrorist!" The next un-P.C. joke involved money - something which Indians talk about quite openly - with Sai Sir mocking Srinu (Social) Sir by saying "Madam, this house is only rented... only rented." May not sound funny to those of you reading back home, but this caused quite a reaction! The final noteworthy un-P.C. joke involved caste. We were all heading to the Social Sirs house for food and Sai Sir (in case you haven't realised, Sai Sir is quite the comedian) informed us "Madam, this is an NV party. You know NV? That is meaning Non Veg!" In India, people of different castes eat different foods and Brahmins, high caste people, traditionally eat only vegetarian food, so Sai Sir was pointing out that the Brahmin teachers were not with us. I cannot explain how glad I was to find out that this was only a joke, considering I don't eat 'NV'. Explaining my vegetarianism to intrigued friends and colleges has proved difficult to say the least!
One evening which did, however, stand in stark contrast to my week of playing 'Bubble Shooter' and reading books was our night of 'campaigning '- or 'camping' or as I thought Sir said on the phone. At about 7.30pm - over an hour after the alloted meeting time - we set off with about eight other teachers to one of the villages armed with pamphlets and a loudspeaker. Upon arrival will all piled out and headed off to the childrens' houses. Yes, that's right, every single child's house. The reason? To tell them that school would be starting the following day. You would not believe my relief when I realised that this was our message. But, now that I'm sat here at a computer writing about it, I've jut realised how crazy it was. Can you imagine if headteachers in the U.K. went to every single childs house to tell them that school was starting? No wonder we found the whole evening so entertaining! As well as the army of teachers running around the village, the school's magic (van) was also circulating. It played a prerecorded message through in loudspeaker in Telugu telling all of the children to come to school!
Although the actual 'campaigning' was fun, the best part of the evening was being able to have a laugh and joke with the teachers again - even if they were very un-politically correct jokes! The evening started with the Social Sir raising the question, "Madam, are you thinking that all Muslims are terrorists?" and, in the short time it took me to overcome my astonishment and respond that this was not the case, Sai Sir (a Muslim) interjected with "Madam, I am a terrorist!" The next un-P.C. joke involved money - something which Indians talk about quite openly - with Sai Sir mocking Srinu (Social) Sir by saying "Madam, this house is only rented... only rented." May not sound funny to those of you reading back home, but this caused quite a reaction! The final noteworthy un-P.C. joke involved caste. We were all heading to the Social Sirs house for food and Sai Sir (in case you haven't realised, Sai Sir is quite the comedian) informed us "Madam, this is an NV party. You know NV? That is meaning Non Veg!" In India, people of different castes eat different foods and Brahmins, high caste people, traditionally eat only vegetarian food, so Sai Sir was pointing out that the Brahmin teachers were not with us. I cannot explain how glad I was to find out that this was only a joke, considering I don't eat 'NV'. Explaining my vegetarianism to intrigued friends and colleges has proved difficult to say the least!
Friday 21 June 2013
Khajuharo Snaps
Finally got my timetable today, so hopefully I can update you all on my new classes and how things are going soon. It's been a tough week, but now things are moving forward and I'm looking forward to making the most of my last five weeks of teaching!
Sunday 16 June 2013
Quick Catch Up
After Varanasi Jess and I headed to Khajuharo, famous for its Kama Sutra temples. Khajuharo is a strange town geared for tourists, and as it was coming to the end of tourist season and ridiculously hot, we were the only ones left. The result was an extreme amount of hassling. We tried to ignore the constant attention, but this led to remarks such as "just because we're not white doesn't mean we're not human" and meant we spent a lot of time in our hotel room. The temples were definitely worth a visit though, especially the smaller temples in the countryside which we travelled to by cycle rickshaw.
Next stop was Hyderabad, over 30 hours away, and I can safely say it was my worst train experience of the holiday. Our first train took us from Khajuharo to Jhansi Junction and should have been a straight forward one. But the train was ridiculously overcrowded with five people to every bench (usually sits three) and at least three or four people up on the top berths. So from 6pm until nearly midnight (the train was late) we were squashed in, surrounded by men and absolutely boiling. Upon arrival in Jhansi we spent ages wandering around trying to understand the confusing signs and find the retiring rooms, which were of course, by the time we got there, full. So it was a night in the Sleeper Class waiting room for us, sleeping on our bags on the floor surrounded by giant black locust type things. I have never seen the clock tick more slowly. Eventually 5am came, we boarded our 24 hour train to Hyderabad, and fell asleep on our berths. But not for long. With a strange sense of deja-vu we watched the train slowly fill up to bursting point. As evening approached we realised that no one was getting off. Where were all these people going to go when we put the beds down? To them, of course, the answer was obvious. They would share our beds. Jess and I both ended up with a child asleep with us and two or three people sat at the foot of the bed. When Secunderabad finally arrived we couldn't see the aisle. It was covered with sleeping bodies all intertwined and cramped together. I have never been more happy to see Hyderabad; we definitely made the most of the luxuries of a supermarket, room service, and AC malls, after our 'most Indian' train experience of the tour.
Am now back in Tangutur, after an overnight train from Hyderabad to Ongole which felt like first class - it was so empty! Was whisked off to a bank function that evening and had to listen to two hours of speeches in Telugu and pose for a photo before I worked out what was going on. Back to life as usual!
Next stop was Hyderabad, over 30 hours away, and I can safely say it was my worst train experience of the holiday. Our first train took us from Khajuharo to Jhansi Junction and should have been a straight forward one. But the train was ridiculously overcrowded with five people to every bench (usually sits three) and at least three or four people up on the top berths. So from 6pm until nearly midnight (the train was late) we were squashed in, surrounded by men and absolutely boiling. Upon arrival in Jhansi we spent ages wandering around trying to understand the confusing signs and find the retiring rooms, which were of course, by the time we got there, full. So it was a night in the Sleeper Class waiting room for us, sleeping on our bags on the floor surrounded by giant black locust type things. I have never seen the clock tick more slowly. Eventually 5am came, we boarded our 24 hour train to Hyderabad, and fell asleep on our berths. But not for long. With a strange sense of deja-vu we watched the train slowly fill up to bursting point. As evening approached we realised that no one was getting off. Where were all these people going to go when we put the beds down? To them, of course, the answer was obvious. They would share our beds. Jess and I both ended up with a child asleep with us and two or three people sat at the foot of the bed. When Secunderabad finally arrived we couldn't see the aisle. It was covered with sleeping bodies all intertwined and cramped together. I have never been more happy to see Hyderabad; we definitely made the most of the luxuries of a supermarket, room service, and AC malls, after our 'most Indian' train experience of the tour.
Am now back in Tangutur, after an overnight train from Hyderabad to Ongole which felt like first class - it was so empty! Was whisked off to a bank function that evening and had to listen to two hours of speeches in Telugu and pose for a photo before I worked out what was going on. Back to life as usual!
Monday 10 June 2013
The City of Gods
Varanasi. Where to begin? It was like returning home to India. It was not until I wandered through the winding streets surrounding Varanasi's Ghats, that I realised how much I missed my Indian home - its smells, its colours, its life. As we rowed up the Ganges one evening, I noticed something painted on one of the Ghats. It read something along the lines of 'The Ganga is the heart and soul of India'. A brave statement, but in my opinion, one hundred percent fact. Hopefully my photos can give you a bit of an insight into why, because at the moment I am struggling to put my time in Varanasi into words. For now, let's stick with 'breathtaking'.
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| Sunrise on the Ganga |
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| Morning bathing, praying and even swimming lessons! |
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| Taking note of how to wash our clothes properly |
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| Saying wishes and watching our candles drift off on the Ganga on our last night together |
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| View of the Ganga Puja from our guest house |
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| Watching the Ganga Puja from the water |
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A true symbol of India
The Taj Mahal. We finally made it. And despite my weariness and exhaustion from over a month of travelling, I have to admit I felt a little bit of excitement upon seeing it for the first time, from a rooftop in Agra. Like the starched white sheets at the Mahalaxhmi Dhobi Ghat in Mumbai, I remember being impressed at how white the Taj is, blending in with the white clouds in the background, and admiring how it rises up out of the mish-mash of houses and winding streets, so unassumingly.
But for me the Taj Mahal, as a tourist attraction, is flawed. Take a minute to Google image 'Taj Mahal bench', or words to that effect, and scroll through the results. What you will see, is exactly what every tourist observes when they visit this iconic building, a queue of individuals, couples and families, waiting patiently to have their photo taken on this famous bench. In the perfect position for a good photo. And I found myself asking, is this why I've come to the Taj Mahal? To take a photo so that I can say, "Look, I was actually there"? Unfortunately, yes. I hate to write negatively and disappoint you all, but there is no point in lying. I was not wowed by the Taj. I felt no desire to linger and soak up the atmosphere. And I did not feel like it was a true symbol of India. Having donned my tourist shoe covers (because the hot marble is too much for white tourist feet to bear), I found myself laughing, as I paused to watch the queue by the photo bench increasing as the sun rose in the sky.
But looking back, I know that the Taj Mahal is more than a tourist attraction. You have to look past the hordes of people and hundreds of cameras. The Taj Mahal was not built for tourists. It was built to remember a beloved wife. And because of that, on May 28th I was wrong. The Taj really is the perfect symbol for India. Extravagant. Extreme. Over the top. It stands in stark contrast to the intense heat, fragrant smells and array of colours of India, but that is what makes it so powerful. And as I look back on all my photos, and scroll through Google images, I realise that the bench, the famous photo bench, is what it's all about. Indian families dressed in their finest, most brightly coloured sarees, posing in the typical Indian way for a single photo, which they will cherish for ever. That is India.
But for me the Taj Mahal, as a tourist attraction, is flawed. Take a minute to Google image 'Taj Mahal bench', or words to that effect, and scroll through the results. What you will see, is exactly what every tourist observes when they visit this iconic building, a queue of individuals, couples and families, waiting patiently to have their photo taken on this famous bench. In the perfect position for a good photo. And I found myself asking, is this why I've come to the Taj Mahal? To take a photo so that I can say, "Look, I was actually there"? Unfortunately, yes. I hate to write negatively and disappoint you all, but there is no point in lying. I was not wowed by the Taj. I felt no desire to linger and soak up the atmosphere. And I did not feel like it was a true symbol of India. Having donned my tourist shoe covers (because the hot marble is too much for white tourist feet to bear), I found myself laughing, as I paused to watch the queue by the photo bench increasing as the sun rose in the sky.
But looking back, I know that the Taj Mahal is more than a tourist attraction. You have to look past the hordes of people and hundreds of cameras. The Taj Mahal was not built for tourists. It was built to remember a beloved wife. And because of that, on May 28th I was wrong. The Taj really is the perfect symbol for India. Extravagant. Extreme. Over the top. It stands in stark contrast to the intense heat, fragrant smells and array of colours of India, but that is what makes it so powerful. And as I look back on all my photos, and scroll through Google images, I realise that the bench, the famous photo bench, is what it's all about. Indian families dressed in their finest, most brightly coloured sarees, posing in the typical Indian way for a single photo, which they will cherish for ever. That is India.
Wednesday 5 June 2013
Delhi Snaps
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| Jama Masjid. We stayed in a tiny hotel practically on top of this mosque in a little box room. Amazing views, but a night of no power in our stuffy room, a reek of petrol from the failing generator and a knock on the door at 1.30am, we decided to move away from the car parts bazaar (yes, our hotel literally was in amongst tyres and car doors!) to a different area of Delhi. Even splashed out on an AC room! |
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| Qutb Minar. One of my favourite sites in Delhi, although I have to say I enjoyed the long ride on the metro to get there just as much. Environmentally sound tokens, AC trains and even a women's only carriage complete with pink flowery signs - Boris Johnson, take note! |
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| Humayun's Tomb |
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| The Red Fort (inside) |
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| Spice Market; the smell of spices was so strong it made you sneeze. |
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| The Lotus Temple |
Delhi surprised me. Its numerous sites easily accessible by metro and laid back, modern feel made it an easy place to unwind. Next stop Agra!
Sunday 2 June 2013
Agra Bound
After an eye opening visit to Amritsar, I felt like our holiday had reached its highest point. But in terms of the map, we were still heading north into Himachal Pradesh and the foothills of the Himalayas. I can't explain how different Himachal is to anywhere else we have visited in India. If felt like a different country, and for the first time in eight months, I was actually cold - invested in a blanket and socks which prove useful in AC hotel rooms too! Below are a selection of photos of McLeod Ganj, Manali and Shimla. McLeod Ganj (Dharmasala) was a particular highlight. The prayer flags and Buddhist monks in their red robes reminded me of Nepal and it was lovely to get an insight into yet another prominent religion in India.
McLeod Ganj
Manali
Shimla
McLeod Ganj
Manali
Shimla
Delhi and Agra post to come. Rs50 an hour for internet so those Taj Mahal photos are going to have to wait!
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