Sorry About My Sari!

Here I am in bed, at a time when I would normally be at school. I have some sort of intestinal deal. Any little spice with mal-intent could have found it's way into my system, it's hard to tell in India. But here I am, reluctantly in bed. Ask my mother, I have a really difficult time giving up my duties to allow for my recovery. This morning I stubbornly got up to wake my girls and even as I took that first step out of bed I thought "well, I will just keep going, first up the stairs to the dorm and then through the crowded and noisy streets and to school where it will be no problem to perform my allotted tasks for the day." That was the first step. I had to pause on the stairs to catch my breath. In the dorm, while trying to convince 13 year olds that they really needed to get out of bed, I was taking over their beds to rest. Then the scent of Tuesdays cheese toast wafted up into the dorm. That was what really did me in. Trying not to gag in front of the innocent bystanders who were lucky enough to have to see me first thing in the morning, I made sure they were all up, and I fled back to my room. So that's where I am now, in my bed with unexpected time to blog. I am able to share with the world these fascinating details of how I feel at the moment. However, I am sure that you'd rather I spared you so I will talk about something else. 

 Fridays at school are Sari Fridays. Any (female) person who wants to join in with Sari Fridays simply has to wear a sari on Friday. Sounds easy right? I decided to give it a try. First I had to find someone with a sari, because I have none of my own. Check. Now how to put it on?  A sari is basically a long long piece of fabric. It requires a great deal of artful folding and draping to be worn. It also requires someone who knows how to do the artful folding and draping in a way that convinces the rest of the world that you aren't just wearing a really long piece of fabric.

I asked our house keeper if any of the Indian ladies were available to assist me. She looked at me, laughed and said " the ladies don't come in till 8 am, you are going to need a lot more time then that!" Ok, no problem, I love wearing clothes that take me over a half an hour to get into.  I finally found another candidate who was willing to get me into a sari. I tried to pay attention to what she was doing but she was so skilled and telling me to turn this way and that, so I gave up and allowed myself to be draped.  This was the result.

Not too shabby right? I felt very pretty. All that was left for me to do was go about my day. Wait, my Friday consists of teaching 2 sets of English literature classes, directing the staff pantomime and accompanying the standard 6's as they gallavant across town, sitting in the mud, drawing pictures of old buildings.  How was I supposed to go about my day? I hardly felt comfortable moving a step. What if the foldings came undone? What if I stepped on a piece of fabric and everything came unravelled leaving me in my blouse and petticoat? That's the equivalent of wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. How do Indian women do it? With my new found insight into saris, suddenly that's all I noticed. The woman running to catch the bus, sari flapping around her heals but never touching the dirty street, the washing women beating clothes on the lawn, bending and swaying with no concern that their clothes might fall off, the women clearing the gutters of unspeakable things wearing saris perfectly knotted so that no grime would be trapped in their clothing. 

I was tempted to clutch at my wrappings and hobble from class to class but an Indian student asked me why I holding my sari like that. You see, proper Indian women don't clutch anything. They glide gracefully from task to task all the while looking stunning in their mix of colours and patterns.  Most saris use a combination of colours that I never would have tried at home. Somehow here it makes sense. I think I have a long way to go on my sari journey. I don't know if I will partake in every Sari friday at school but I did go out and buy my own sari the next day. It is being made up for me as we speak. How cool is it to have clothes made up for you? There is a wedding coming up in December, maybe by then I will be a bit more skilled at the wearing of the sari.

To finish off, here is another picture of a monkey. 

Chic Cafes, Cochin and Canals

If any of you have been following my blogs (all two of them) you might remember me speaking about how there were no chic café’s in India. I now need to revise this statement.  In Kerala state, in Cochin, through a back alleyway there is a place that I think deserves a prize for it's chicness. This is a rare find in India.

Let me take you back a month ago. Yes, I know, I am extremely inconsistent. But there was a drama festival at my school and I was one of the directors. There was no time to blog! More on that later.

A month ago the other IG girls (International Guests) took a much needed, long weekend down to Cochin. After 10 hours of travel,  a taxi driver that played “Barbie Girl” and a weird Indian movie that I couldn’t even pretend to understand, we arrived. Us four girls promptly made our home in this chic café that I keep mentioning. Welcome to Kashi Coffee; art gallery; garden; café ; and perfect escape from the world.

All this art! Weird and colourful. It was like a museum. It was inspiring. I could probably have spent hours sitting in there, gazing at the other wanderers, at the art, at the statues, at my yummy food. Feeling like there wasn’t any other place that I should be. We were even asked to fill out a survey on the architecture of the place. Obviously we were very complimentary. I ordered a lime soda infused with ayurvedic spices.  Yes, this drink was as good and interesting as it sounds. I think I am a new woman after those lime sodas.

We also took a backwater tour. We were gondoliered through the canals. We passed fishermen, other boats, water lilies, palm trees and bathers. At one point we stopped and walked through the jungle to where some ladies were making rope. Guess what they were making the rope from? Coconut fiber. It was very cool. They spun it together and eventually the coconut fiber turns into baskets, mats, and rope. I am going to keep this skill in mind, if I am ever stranded on a deserted island.

Our time in Cochin was brief. However it was delightful and needed. Especially because the month after was insanely busy. It’s nice to take a moment, look at some art, sit in a café, breathe.

Barrel of Monkeys

I have been hesitant to write any more blogs, because I was wrongly convincing myself that nothing worthy of note is happening to me. This is not the case! I have simply fallen into a routine that feels like… routine. However, all of you out there have no idea what my routine is.

First of all, I live in Selbourne. What is Selbourne? This is a residence off of the main campus where most of the girls attending Hebron live. It is really lovely. 

Here are some pictures of monkeys, near the building where I live. 

 All of these pictures were taken at the same place and time.
These are all different monkeys hanging out together, on my lawn.

Monkeys are a big problem here. 

They are considered pests and will come through your windows and steal your food if you are not careful. However I am still amazed by them, and think they are really cool. I have taken many monkey pictures. The Indians roll their eyes at the white girl getting so excited every time she sees a monkey, but seriously MONKEYS! They are so un-Canadian. 

Monkeys are really smart too. They wait until they know there aren’t many people around, like on Sunday when everyone goes to church. That is when they invade. 

I was doing some laundry in my bathroom ( we wash our undies by hand here) and hanging my personals out the window to dry when one of the support staff came by, 

“ Madame, madame! Window close!”

Me: “ what?”

Lady: “ Monkeys are coming, monkeys are coming!”

Oh the monkeys are coming! I would like to keep my personals out of the hands of monkeys thank you very much. This is a general rule that applies to all monkeys literal and metaphorical. Hehe.

When I start getting too comfortable, I gaze out my window at the monkeys. They remind me that I am still in a crazy place and that I should keep up with this blog.

My Adventure Begins!

I have been told time and again by my good friend Alysa that I should write a blog. Blogging appeals to me in a romantic sort of way. I think of blogging and I picture myself sitting in a chic café, sipping something posh and delicious while gazing ponderously off into the distance. Of course my words would be profound, witty and poetic. People would look at me and wonder what I was thinking. "lovely", they would say, "just lovely.
Alright. I am painfully aware that this probably won't be the case. If you were to look at my journals you would see that they are inconsistent scribbles and rants. I often go months without writing anything. Large portions of my life are left out. Sometimes I am simply uninspired to write. I assume that my blogs will follow a similar pattern. I must remind myself how much of this world I want to take in and process! I am seeking my own story in the bigger story that I am a part of. I will attempt to channel and focus myself. Maybe some day, my romantic blogger vision will come true.

 

      I also have a good reason to finally be blogging. I am in India! It is no longer easy to have long conversations with people ,so I am hoping to tell you about my life here on the other side of the world.

      In my present location there are no chic cafes, only tea carts. There is nowhere to sit around these tea carts unless I arrange myself and my laptop in a pile of goat dung. It might be comfortable but for now the cafe blogging will have to wait.

     I am in India! This is a fact that still seems surreal to me.  My world has two faces. The first is made up of horns, spices, monkeys, chapatti( unleavened bread), daahl (a lentil dish), garbage, stray animals , 6 am calls to prayer from the neighbouring mosque and lot’s of color and crazy patterns. This India hides it’s face as soon as I enter the Hebron grounds. For those of you who don’t know, Hebron is the international school I am volunteering at, it is located in Ooty, a town in the Nilgiri hills. Ooty is known for it’s cool climates, forest preservation and tea! I bet some of your favourite tea comes from here. I can now confidently recognize a tea plantation. That’s all I see when I look out at the hills. As I was saying, the India that never feels quite comfortable disappears as soon as I enter the Hebron grounds. The security guard nods to me and lifts the gate and I am greeted by lush forest and flowers. This is an unexpected gift and I am extremely grateful every time I walk through the gates. I walk up the drive and am met with British colonial buildings and more trees. I love trees. The paths to and from the classrooms could rival the staircases from Hogwarts. There isn't just one school building, there are several, piled on top of each other, in a very random patttern. I still had to ask where the staff dining room was today even after being here a week.

     Everyone is so kind and everyone knows me even if I don’t know them. It’s sortof like a Rosebud only instead of flat think up and instead of prairies think jungle. Got it? Good. I am still adjusting. There is a lot I have to do. As an international guest my duties include everything from teaching, to admin work and helping with the dorms. I am known around these parts as Miss Kendra. It has a nice ring to it. " Miss Kendra, miss Kendra! " Try and hear that being said with any accent that isn't Canadian. There are very few Canadians here.

 I will blog more, I promise. This will have to suffice as my introduction to the blogging world.  The bell has just rung for lunch. I am going to eat. I have a feeling that it is curry.

 

Until next time!