A Cautionary Tale

We took an overnight train to Agra – economy 2^nd sleeper, which means you get three tiers of bunks, and the aisles are busy with food and drink sellers going up and down, and cries of “pani water pani water”, “chai chai chaieeee”, “samosa samosa samosa”. We snatched a few winks of sleep in the gently rocking carriage, and arrived early in the morning to the bustling station.

We had decided to buy our tickets on to Dehradun while we were there, but as the general allowance of tickets had run out (as per usual), we had to wait for the 'tatkal' tickets, which you pay a bit more for. There was a girl managing the line and letting everyone know what was going on. For a while we were able to keep track of who was where in the line, but in the hour before the tickets came available we had to go back and keep our place in the line.

I stood there, people elbowing, packed together (even though there was so much space behind us!), with a short stand-in by Jasmine K after they got some breakfast, until finally we got our tickets, wedged ourselves into a tuk-tuk, and headed for our hostel. We got there, he asked for our passports, I started digging through my bag, and then with a mild puzzlement dug through it again, and then carefully took out everything and put it back.. with a growing sense of alarm I did the same again, ad checked my other bag. By this time the others had realised something was up: I had lost my passport.

Back to the tuk-tuk driver (who was hanging about cos he was still trying to sell us a tour), and back we flew the way we came. We had stopped on the way to take a picture of the Taj Mahal, and I remembered my bag being quite full and juggling things when I fished out my camera, so I thought maybe my passport bag had fallen out there. If it had, there was perhaps one chance in a million that it would still be there. Jasmine and I went up and down the road to no avail. Next stop: the train station. Off we sped, my mind running over all the possibilities and courses of action, trying to work out how bad the worst scenario was going to be.

I went into the ticket room, looked around, and was directed to go ask the station manager. On the way out I saw, mud-stained, crumpled, in a pile of rubbish, my passport packet. My heart just dropped. It was empty.

I continued miserably to the office, and told the manager my story. He nodded, told me to sit down and asked my name. “Jasmin” I said.

He went over to the cupboard, opened it, and handed me my passport. I nearly cried with relief. Thanked him roundly, and left. He said that the sweeping lady had handed it in. I had had a cash card, and US and Thai baht adding to about AU$75. I imagine either someone took it, or it somehow dropped out of my bag when I was in that crazy ticket line.. and whoever took it for some reason just made off with the money and not the passport – even though the passport is worth soo much more on the black market. Crazy. I couldn't believe it.

So yeah, keep being careful with your passports, ok?

Life on the Sunny Side..

When we were in Varanasi, we had a guy jump into our taxi on the way from the airport, who then led us to our guesthouse. We bumped into him a few times after that during the week – he would hang out near a stall that did the best mango shakes in the city (or so they say. Despite our limited experience, we were happy to agree).

Anyway, this small, dapper little man was named Sunny. He showed us around a couple of times, winding through the cobblestoned alleys of the Old City, pointing out 'cheap and best' restaurant places, sighing heavily if he thought we had been ripped off by someone.. The first time or two we were obviously a bit skeptical of him.. Georgie, with a mix of anxiety and annoyance, burst out asking what he expected of us.. He seemed a little surprised, and simply said that he didn't have any expectation, and that he thought that friendship was more important than money.. Which is of course a little unusual for a self-proclaimed tour guide, but which, in the safety of a group of people, I was happy to accept.

On our second-last day we bumped into him again and he helped us find a good pharmacy and then another good restaurant.. anyway one thing led to another and he ended up inviting us to come and eat at his home the next day and meet his mother! Ok, we said. What could go wrong?

Anyway, after a whole series of adventures the next morning trying to find the River Ashram – which is a story in itself (we trekked along the whole length of the ghats, circled temples, went all the way to a cricket stadium, stopped at a 'bread of life' cafe for food, almost gave up but then a random guy in the cafe ended up knowing it and leading us there.. and it was a beautiful oasis of flowers and rugged old arched walls and interesting, people-loving folks..). So yes, then we met up with Sunny and a Chilean friend he'd made the day before, he hailed a few cycle-rickshaws, and we headed to the other side of town.

While we were waiting for lunch (which was delicious puffy fried puris, vegies and sambal) he told us all about his recent trip to France. He had met this french couple a few years ago, and they became best buddies – he called the woman his french mama. Then last year they organised everything for him to be able to come and visit them in France. He showed us photo after photo of his time there, and it was so beautiful. You could just see the joy shining in his eyes.. We'd ask him what he thought of this or that over there, and it was always “too much, I liked it too much!”

My favourite episode was when they were travelling out to the border with Switzerland, and the train stopped at a station where he saw his first snow. He and the guy jumped off the train to take a couple of photos of him in it, and the next thing they knew the train, and the french mama, were chugging off into the distance without him!! Oh dear. “I'll never forget that day, and that town, where I miss my train..” he says.

He told us that some of his rich relatives were jealous of him, because he has just his little house with his mother - and they have so much - but they have never been outside India, and it would be near impossible for them to get the visa to go to Europe, like he did. And so Sunny, just through his friendships, had been given all this..

“You know,” he says, “some people are hungry for money, but I am hungry for love.” And as funny as that sounds, you can see where his valuing of relationships took him!

When I thought I'd left it all behind...

In the hols I went to India and Malaysia. Then I came back. To Australia. But things are not always as one might expect..


About a month ago I walked over to uni.. and into a little Malaysia. It was the Malaysian Society's welcome do, and I was the only white person there (bar one). Everyone was speaking in their delightfully accented malay-english, or bahasa, or Tamil (I think) - or a bit of each. We played games - who could make teh tarik (literally pulled tea - poured at a distance from jug to jug to aerate it) the best (me and my partner managed to spill a fair bit on eachother!) We played giant games of tug-of-war, and did lots of what malaysians do best - eating, and drinking teh.




On my birthday I was in Sydney to catch up with people and hear Shane Claiborne (Christian-monk-hippy-dude) speak. While we were in Newtown we found this fantastic Indian/Sri Lankan/Malay restaurant that made dosai (massive crispy lentil-based pancakes), sambal and chutneys just how they tasted in India!! I nearly died of excitement.



On that visit I also found an asian grocers' that sold heaps of mixes and spices and other fascinating things.. which enabled me to make idli and sambal a few weeks later. (as we didn't have an idli steamer and the stove was full, I ended up cooking them in the microwave. shhh I won't tell anyone if you don't. they still tasted great, I swear!)

10 Ways to Entertain (or frustrate, annoy) the Natives

I am in fact guilty of most of these..

1. White girl carrying 5 massive wool blankets down crowded Kolkatan streets.

2. Getting stuck in a salwar top evidently made for much smaller Indian women.

3. Sniffing leaf-wrapped breath-fresheners in a fancy restaurant (for some reason the other guests found it particularly hilarious)

4. Ordering more bread and not eating your rice (seriously, who does that?)

5. Saving the throwaway clay cups from a chai stall.. and bringing them off the street into a cafe.

6. Arguing for ages with taxi/rickshaw drivers.. and then walking off mid-bargain

7. Three white women waltzing into a muslim eatery.. and realising after sitting down and ordering that 100% of the clientele was male.

8. Language issues: "what is it?"
"5 rupees"
"no, what's in it?"
"5 rupees"
is there cream?"
"No, 5"
arrggghhh.

9. Getting lost in the quiet backstreets of outer suburbs.. finishing up with the road ending in someone's backyard bathing area.

10. Insist on trying to save (resurrect) a dying puffer fish (spiny, useless, poisonous) that fishermen had thrown up on the beach ("are you going to eat it?" "no" "well you should throw it back if you're not going to eat it").. and standing in the water for half an hour stopping it from floating back in, when it was obviously dead [this was NOT me].


I'm sure there was more, but that's all for now!

In other news, I've been back in oz for 10 days or so now, trying to settle back into Newie, a new house, get my feet back on the ground etc etc.
People are great, my course/s look promising, sweet beaches - all in all I think it's shaping up to be a pretty good semester, as far as they go.

AND I JOINED A QUIDDITCH CLUB. woot!

Goa: Land of a Thousand Contented Sighs

It was so nice to spend a week here. Beaching, watersporting (parasailing=beautiful!), sipping mojitos, eating spicy seafood delights by candlelight right on the water, watching the glowing palm-silhouetting red sun sink into the ocean, finding hammocks, riding bikes, getting massages, playing frisbee, going dolphin-watching in a little fishing boat, sipping fresh coconuts (with a shot of rum!), star-gazing, watching kingfishers diving in and about a waterlily-dotted swamp, papaya, papaya and more papaya (juice=nectar of the gods); staying in a little beach hut ON THE WATER going to sleep to the crash of waves; hanging with friends...


There was a bit of sunburn and some interesting chafing experiences, but all in all, pretty idyllic. Does life get much better? I think not.

Before we came away, I was like 'I don't want to just chill on the beach, we have nice beaches in Australia, I can do that anytime. I want to see stuff and do stuff and blah blah blah.' And then we got there, and I was like 'can we not go anywhere, please?' haha.
I realised that it's actually been a while since I did just sit on a beach and think about nothing more than my next dip and my next meal and my next papaya juice. No things to do, no places to be, no complicated relationships, decisions, commitments. None of the pressures I usually put on myself without even noticing... So I just sat back and sighed contented sighs and soaked it all up. (and there were some damn good people to share it with too, I must say :)


Still India though, so just one story. This one time we had dinner at a little beach restaurant and the young waiter was very chatty. We'd finished dinner and were enjoying our last cocktail and he was lingering again and asks 'you like porpies? wanna see my porpies?'
'huh? what do you mean?'
'wanna see porpies?'
'what, you mean porpoises, like dolphins?'
'porpies. I go get.'
And he comes back with two gorgeous big fluffy puppies!! hahaha. Totally not what I was expecting. So we had to ooh and aah over them. They were pretty cute really. And he was so in love with them, so that was a bit cute too. I'm not sure everyone present fully enjoyed the experience.. (fleas, anyone?) and when another waiter thought he was missing out on all the attention and came over to join the conversation as well, we took our leave.
A waiter bringing his puppies for show and tell?
Only in India.

Too Much Happy for One Face

Imagine you have been travelling for over 24hrs. By taxi, train, steam train, bus, truck and foot. You stumble into a campsite 3000m up on the side of a mountain in the jungle. There are over 100 others milling around: around 70 gypsy and irula kids (with some of the younger parents), indian leaders and camp staff from several states, other volunteers from several countries.
It's getting dark. It's also getting cold. You grab stuff from the truck, try to work out sleeping arrangements, hand out jumpers and jackets to poor kids who have never experienced cold, altitude, isolation from any form of civilisation - in short, anything like this before. Shell-shocked? I think so.

There aren't enough big jumpers, and so the tallest boys end up with some horribly short ones. They _all_ want ones with hoods, and you are overwhelmed by choruses of "cap, cap, cap.. friend, cap? Want cap". You all gobble down some hearty curry and rice, huddle around the fire, learn a fun song and watch a hilarious story be told (well, they listened too - I just didn't understand any!) and as soon as possible, head to bed.

The next morning is bitterly cold. If you were brave, you might have dragged yourself out of bed earlier than you needed to, and stumbled down to the lake. You would have seen mist feathering up off its sapphire depths as the day awoke.
You would have returned to the campsite and joined the shivering children; fervently hugging tumblers of hot chai in icy hands, and hanging out for breakfast (more curry and rice).

The day warms with the sun, and you all relax a little. You begin getting to know eachother. You learn more songs, play games, have competitions, try your hand at archery, maybe go walking and skipping through fern-lined streams and gorges, kids trailing from your hands and arms, taking off, hanging back, yelling, fighting, grinning, begging, learning names, forgetting names..

By the second day, you have come to expect the cold sweeping in. You know that you will get three square meals and plenty of tea. You know that there are a whole stack of people here who are filled with love and joy and compassion and you can't help seeing and feeling it.
The kids are still a little crazy, but the fighting and arguing is no longer a constant. There are many many more smiles than frowns. You really can't believe the change. So soon? And even the angry gypsy lady that yelled all the time and no one liked? Even she is smiling. And gleefully singing snatches of song.

By the end of the 2nd day, no one wants to leave. I'm not going to forget the shining eyes of kids kayaking for the first time - or the guts of those girls trying out abseiling.

On the last day, apparently one little boy burst out "TOO MUCH HAPPY!" That's exactly how I felt too, in this beautiful place, with these people.

This really sounds a bit too sentimental or romantic, I know. Couldn't really have been like that. People don't just change like that. (And of course they were -we are all- still far from perfect!)
But it was real. Something happened. We felt it and saw it and were blessed by this crazy community that grew together. Who knows what will happen when we all go back home - so many back to just surviving on a pittance from day to day, begging and pleading their way forward. Who knows? But I do hope and trust that those bits of peace and love will take root and keep growing. The Creator keep somehow working his redemptive magic.

Useful Bengali for aforementioned volunteering!

If you ever happen to go..


Hello: Namaste/namaskaar
What's your name? Apni nam kiatche (or just nam ki)
I'm Jasmin: Nam Jasmin
How are you? kemanacho
good/very good: palo/kupalo
not feeling well: bet ache
Wait: dara
Soon: ekokpare
Come: aasho
Don't go: jeo naa
stop: thamun
What do you want? kitabe
What is it? ami janina
I don't understand: ami bujina
eat: ka
finished: huegatche
thankyou: donyobad
no: na

..I think I learnt about half of these!

Volunteering with the Missionaries of Charity (Mother Teresa)

Been meaning to finish this post for a while now, so here goes.

We spent a week volunteering with the Missionaries of Charity, which was the order of nuns begun by Mother Teresa in Kolkata. They have a whole bunch of different homes now, from the first Home for the Dying (Nirmal Hriday), to homes for abandoned children, disabled children and adults, teenagers, and a leprosy community.

I hung out at Shishu Bhavan, a home for abandoned/disabled babies, toddlers & primary-schoolers. I was with the toddlers. In the mornings people do more manual labour like cleaning, changing beds, helping with the washing & feeding the children. In the afternoons (when I was on) we helped a bit with making beds and feeding the kids dinner, but we spent most of the time playing with the kids outside.

They had a great little area with murals all over the walls, swings, play equipment etc. It was pretty fun (except for when you get sat on by kids with wet pants!!). They were pretty cute, and I can imagine getting attached to them if I spent more time there.
It was hard though too, because you didn't always know what was ok for them to do and what wasn't, and though their full-time (paid, local) carers were patient with us and them, I'm sure it would have been frustrating for them to be continually dealing with various behaviours that volunteers might allow. And the way (like all kids) they learn to do whatever they can to get attention! Of course, as a volunteer I could see it would be soo much better to be there for the longterm instead of short.
It was tricky not understanding everything that was going on, so time would help with that too! I don't think it'd take long to pick up enough bengali to understand the basics and be understood.

I think overall they seemed well cared-for, and we were happy to hear that nearly all of the babies and toddlers would be adopted out. Many even had adoptive parents already, and were just waiting for the lengthy legal process to go through.

All in all, my impression was that it was much more of a gift to the volunteers to be able to come, join in, and get a taste of life here - than any small service we could perform. The sisters are so hospitable - volunteers are invited to come along to mass in the mornings (at 6am!!), and there is a free breakfast (of bread, bananas and chai) for volunteers afterwards whether or not they attend mass. I was really touched by how gracious and patient the sisters were, in every interaction with one of the many visitors and volunteers.

Red sun at morning

We flew out of Kolkata this morning, farewelled by a brilliantly glowing pinky-orange sun. A light layer of mist silhouetted vanishing rows of trees. Kolkata looked, well, beautiful So I got to thinking about all the other beautiful things of the past week (do you feel another list coming on?)

Colours:
Simple, bright little kites flying above the grimy old buildings; saris hung out to dry flapping like sails in the breeze; the women walking so proud and beautiful in their richly decorated clothes; a little orphan at at Shishu Bhavan happily flaunting her one scarf.

Glimpses:
Two little muslim boys so smart in white suits and caps, hanging off their father's arm; kids playing cricket in a back street, or soccer in the deserted streets of Kolkata late at night; the peaceful napping of stray dogs curled into the neatest round balls.

People:
The grace and patience of the sisters of Charity; a guy giving me a seat even though it was in the male section of the train; shaking hands with and swinging little leper kids, and peeling eggs with the ladies; the laughing smile of the watch-seller at Jasmine's hard bargaining; drinks with Rajesh the laidback tour guy and the many friends who pop in and out of his tiny shopfront.

Krazy Kolkata Part II

Just a few more that came to mind..

-The sidewalks that look like they have been dug up with a bulldozer and then never replaced.
-The taxi drivers going "oh yes yes" when you tell them where to go.. and then halfway through stopping to ask people how to get to the place they're meant to be going! And THEN asking for twice as much because the trip took longer!!
-Having your ID and yourself photographed and your address taken before you can even use the internet ("get tangled in the web").
-No one, like pretty much no one having change - even a lovely restaurant who had already charged 10% for service said "oh we have no change. We keep as tip?"
!!
-Being followed for blocks by people trying to strike up a conversation with you and then get you to come to their shop (or their friend's). "New Market, come to New Market. Very nice place, very high quality.. Where you from? Hello? Hello?"

Oh my gosh, and the naked old holy men at the Jain Temple? Waaay more than we bargained for.

India: !ncredible or !nsane?

Australia farewelled me in fitting form, with a roasting of a sunburn and a stomachful of chips.
Asia welcomed me.. with four curries in under 24hrs (without even leaving an airport!). And as we touched down in Mumbai, there were three little kids jumping and waving the plane in, from their vantage point in the slums.

Incredible !ndia say the tourism posters - and though I've only spent 4 days here, I quite agree. In fact, I feel that "Krazy Kolkata" on a poster for this city would be spot on.
Here's [some of] why:

The streets are insane. Buses, trucks, taxis, cars, rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, bicycles, motorbikes cows, goats, dogs, cats, squirrels - oh, and people! - they're all there, going every which way. Challenge number one: How the heck does one cross a road?!
And they beep. The. Whole. Time. It's not always an angry beep, more a 'watch out I'm coming through' sort of beep. So as they're always coming through, they're always.. you guessed it.
I've seen signs saying not to beep near nursing homes and hospitals and stuff. But then on the backs of the trucks, it says: 'Horn Please'.
???
There are sacred shrines everywhere, hindu temples, jain temples, islamic mosques (you may even have the good fortune to be woken at ~4:30am by the mullah calling the good muslims to worship. oh joy. but I guess I have been getting up at 5:30 to go to mass, so maybe the madness is catching), christian churches - a bit of everything! There's a whole market dedicated to strings of fresh flowers, mostly sunshine-yellow marigolds to buy to hang on tombs, for offerings, burials, cremations, and more.
Oh and the ganges, the Hindus' holy, holy river? The one where they gather water from to sanctify things with? Yeah well you have probably heard this, but the river is also used to send babies corpses one their way into the next life.. as well as general things like defacating, bathing, etc.
?!?
A quick one which I only just discovered: you have to show photo ID and get it and yourself photographed, and tell them where you live, before they'll let you use an internet cafe here.

I'm sure there are a million more crazy things, but suffice it to say it is also beautiful, humbling, amazing. SO glad to be here.

lucky schmuck

yeah.. that's me.

I can't believe I'm going away in three days! ahh!! So exciting. I feel so spoilt (I am so spoilt!), being able to go overseas again, and join in with people's lives in another part of the world.
..Give and receive, bless and be blessed (I hope!).
Taste and see the differences.
Celebrate common, immortal humanity.
Have fun.
See some cool stuff.
Live courageously.
Spark myself alight on the world...

"Who turned on the lights? You did, by waking up: you flipped the light switch, started up the wind machine, kicked on the flywheel that spins the years. Can you catch hold of a treetop, or will you fly off the diving planet as she rolls?

Knowing you are alive is feeling the planet buck under you, rear, kick, and try to throw you; you hang on to the ring. It is riding the planet like a log downstream, whooping.

What is important is anyone's coming awake and discovering a place, finding in full orbit a spinning globe one can lean over, catch, and jump on. What is important is the moment of opening a life and feeling it touch – with an electric hiss and cry – this speckled mineral sphere, our present world."

- Annie Dillard, An American Childhood

There's been a lot of ups and downs to life lately, but I've still got to be one of the luckiest girls around.

Go West Find India

Last week I spent 3 days pruning pomegranates at Condo, because my Dad was working near there and they needed people.. and I could use the cash.

What I didn't expect was that going a couple of hours west would sink me straight into a little India!!
I (and my bro Ben) were working with a whole bunch of guys from Punjab, Gujarat, and Pakistan. They rattled away in Hindi and Punjabi all day long - and I understood nothing but 'Sahib Paul', 'Sahib Cartic', and 'smokee'!

They chewed on tobacco and pruned away to the tinny bollywood tunes bouncing from phones or mp3s. Every now and then the braver (and better at english) ones would strike up a brief conversation with me or Ben.. and the more flirtatious of them threw small pomegranates at me and moaned about how little sleep he got because he was addicted to facebook (um, excuse me but how is that attractive?!) haha.

I wiped sweat from my top lip and prickles from my legs.. and worked on developing blistered fingers, muscular thumbs, and a decent sock tan.

We swilled litre upon litre of chilled water (ah, heaven!).. and at lunch break they shared some of their curry and chappatis with us.

When they found out I was visiting India they were very excited - though a little disappointed when they heard I wasn't going into the north at all, they still tried to think of friends in the places I was going who might be able to show me around!

So despite the 40 degree heat and ensuing exhaustion, it was actually not a bad few days.. :)