We drove back through the winding mountain passes to the nearest station to catch a train to Agra. Until my visit I believed that all trains ran on time in India, do not believe it! When the trains do arrive people run along the platform to jump on while passengers alighting jump off, my heart was in my mouth. A man was pulled out from under the train he had been riding the axles and given a severe reprimand by staff .. for not paying the fare, unbelievable! I have always dreamed of taking a train and watching the landscape of India flow past the window. After elbowing our way onto the train, I was shown my seat, it was a bunk 18" from the ceiling and I had to climb up there not realising I had the best seat in the house. I could not see out of the window, but I could watch the mini dramas enacted below, whole families finding a few inches to sit, lay, eat or sleep. As we reached each station a mass, mad exodus while new passengers where getting on with traders and beggars and I sat on my perch like a big owl taking it all in.
We arrived in Agra at 1.45am and had to be up for 5.30am to get to the Taj Mahal to watch the sunrise. It was worth it.... the moon shone over the building and then the sun started to rise. The Taj is white marble and covered in semi precious stones; it is set in beautiful gardens with cranes and eagles soaring overhead. The sweeping Yamuna river flows behind the Taj Mahal (Taj means dream in marble)and it really is a very romantic and melancholic place to be. It was built by Sahjahan in memory of Mumtaz Mahal for the love of his life who died giving birth to their 14th child.
Back to the station for the final push back to Delhi and the flight home. The station was chaotic, an Indian lady walked up and down the platform with a sari trailing five feet behind her, it was filthy and when I asked if she was a holy woman I was told "No, she is just mad". Our train kept getting delayed (we had been there 3 hours) and finally because of my return flight Vineet my iSpiice guide suggested we leave and find an alternative route back.
We raced across the city and managed to catch an Indian bus back to Delhi (and I had said I would never ride in one again). Arriving very late I managed to wash and fall into bed for a few hours sleep. At 9.00 am we (Vineet my guide and Reggie a South African, also a volunteer) travelled to the airport and security was so tight I was refused entry by the army who were stationed at the doors. I had booked my flight on the internet and did not have a paper ticket and had to rush about finding officials who could give me some sort of authority to enter. Reggie was a star and he helped me with my luggage and pushed me through the doors (he had come along to have some breakfast at the airport and was not allowed in poor chap).
So it was a great relief to board the Jetair aircraft and settle down to a film and some good food, but India is always full of surprises and 'Delhi belly' decided to travel with me and strike at that moment. So I arrived at Heathrow looking and feeling a bit like the woman on Agra rail station ... pretty rough.
All's well that ends well and I am now home, sleeping in my own bed and loving the feel of the soft breeze and cool rain but .... my thoughts constantly return to the gentle, generous people in Himachel Pradesh who opened their homes, hearts and beautiful country to me. I can never thank them or the iSpiice organisation and staff enough.
Would I do it again? Definitely, it was an adventure of a lifetime!
Monday 31 May 2010
Thursday 27 May 2010
Saying my goodbyes
There is a party in the house tonight so that I can say goodbye to all the new friends I have made on my first visit to India. Varun's (the director of iSpiice) dad is a silversmith and has just travelled from Palampur to bring me a beautiful silver necklace with a moonstone set in silver. I only met him this morning and he set to in his workshop to make it and deliver it before I leave early in the morning. How cool is that!
The farmer has made a gift of an incredibly beautiful silk salwar kameeze in a rose pink, the trousers are very full and I feel like an extra in Aladdin and his Lamp paddling through the house.
So, I will leave with mixed feelings. The work has been challenging, the heat exhausting but the memories and friendships I hope will last a lifetime.
My next port of call, the Taj Mahal at 6.00am on Saturday morning, I have heard the marble turns pink as the sun is rising, we shall see!
The farmer has made a gift of an incredibly beautiful silk salwar kameeze in a rose pink, the trousers are very full and I feel like an extra in Aladdin and his Lamp paddling through the house.
So, I will leave with mixed feelings. The work has been challenging, the heat exhausting but the memories and friendships I hope will last a lifetime.
My next port of call, the Taj Mahal at 6.00am on Saturday morning, I have heard the marble turns pink as the sun is rising, we shall see!
Wednesday 26 May 2010
The Alchemist
The Alchemist - Paul Coelho
Mary, with the baby Jesus in her arms, decided to come down to Earth and visit a monastery. The monks proudly joined in a long queue, and each of them came before the Virgin to render their homage. One declaimed beautiful poetry, another showed his illuminated paintings of biblical subjects, a third repeated the names of all the Saints. And so on, one monk after the other, praising Mary and the baby Jesus.
The last monk of all there, was the humblest in the whole monastery, who had never studied the learned books of the time. His parents were simple people, who worked in an old travelling circus, and all they had taught him was to throw balls into the air and juggle with them.
When it was his turn, the other members of the order wanted to bring the homage to a conclusion, since the old juggler would have nothing important to say, and might lower the image of the monastery. But in the bottom of his heart, he also felt a burning need to give something of himself to Jesus and Mary.
Ashamed, conscious of the disapproving looks of his brothers, he took a few oranges from his bag, and started to juggle them in the air, saying that juggling was all he knew how to do.
It was at the moment that the baby Jesus, sitting on Mary’s lap, smiled and started to clap his hands. And Mary reached out her arms, inviting him to hold the baby.
-ooOoo-
I have been asking myself why I felt the need to come to India and while here I have found the book ‘The Alchemist’ and in a way it has answered the puzzle. We all have special gifts to share (mine happens to be a huge mothering instinct and I have friends and family who have gifts of compassion or generosity or vision) and in giving the gift away it brings joy to others and a heartfelt joy to oneself.
So, back to the present, last night after work the farmer took us out to see a temple in the jungle. It was amazing, I felt I was in a set of the film ‘The Jungle Book’, vines hung down from the ancient trees and old forgotten monuments lay in the clearings. We came across a huge stone bathing place with a cold stream running through it with inscribed tablets round the edge. We washed our feet and hands then walked to a temple made for the God Shiva who destroys all that is evil; we had to get on all fours and crawl inside, a fire burnt in the hearth and offerings of wheat or money were placed in a mound in the centre. As we left, bands of young men covered in dry mud and wearing only a lunge walked through the jungle down to the temple beating drums to pay homage to Shiva.
Then the pace changed, we were driven to the local fair with stalls to purchase food and side shows with all types of attractions, it was as if I had been transported to the 1940’s. What I found amusing was the tombola stall and the ‘hook a fish’, relics of colonial days, more British than the British it seemed and all set against the towering snow capped Himalayas.
Back home Cas and I made three huge Banoffe Pies which we all enjoyed at supper-time. The new volunteers had felt a little insecure on their first day and as Anna and Genevieve tucked into the pie they relaxed and felt that they were part of the team. (There goes that mothering instinct again)!
Mary, with the baby Jesus in her arms, decided to come down to Earth and visit a monastery. The monks proudly joined in a long queue, and each of them came before the Virgin to render their homage. One declaimed beautiful poetry, another showed his illuminated paintings of biblical subjects, a third repeated the names of all the Saints. And so on, one monk after the other, praising Mary and the baby Jesus.
The last monk of all there, was the humblest in the whole monastery, who had never studied the learned books of the time. His parents were simple people, who worked in an old travelling circus, and all they had taught him was to throw balls into the air and juggle with them.
When it was his turn, the other members of the order wanted to bring the homage to a conclusion, since the old juggler would have nothing important to say, and might lower the image of the monastery. But in the bottom of his heart, he also felt a burning need to give something of himself to Jesus and Mary.
Ashamed, conscious of the disapproving looks of his brothers, he took a few oranges from his bag, and started to juggle them in the air, saying that juggling was all he knew how to do.
It was at the moment that the baby Jesus, sitting on Mary’s lap, smiled and started to clap his hands. And Mary reached out her arms, inviting him to hold the baby.
-ooOoo-
I have been asking myself why I felt the need to come to India and while here I have found the book ‘The Alchemist’ and in a way it has answered the puzzle. We all have special gifts to share (mine happens to be a huge mothering instinct and I have friends and family who have gifts of compassion or generosity or vision) and in giving the gift away it brings joy to others and a heartfelt joy to oneself.
So, back to the present, last night after work the farmer took us out to see a temple in the jungle. It was amazing, I felt I was in a set of the film ‘The Jungle Book’, vines hung down from the ancient trees and old forgotten monuments lay in the clearings. We came across a huge stone bathing place with a cold stream running through it with inscribed tablets round the edge. We washed our feet and hands then walked to a temple made for the God Shiva who destroys all that is evil; we had to get on all fours and crawl inside, a fire burnt in the hearth and offerings of wheat or money were placed in a mound in the centre. As we left, bands of young men covered in dry mud and wearing only a lunge walked through the jungle down to the temple beating drums to pay homage to Shiva.
Then the pace changed, we were driven to the local fair with stalls to purchase food and side shows with all types of attractions, it was as if I had been transported to the 1940’s. What I found amusing was the tombola stall and the ‘hook a fish’, relics of colonial days, more British than the British it seemed and all set against the towering snow capped Himalayas.
Back home Cas and I made three huge Banoffe Pies which we all enjoyed at supper-time. The new volunteers had felt a little insecure on their first day and as Anna and Genevieve tucked into the pie they relaxed and felt that they were part of the team. (There goes that mothering instinct again)!
Sunday 23 May 2010
Cloud nine
When I awoke in the Tibetan Chonor House Hotel, I walked onto the balcony and just across the road the monks were circumnavigating the temple, they were spinning the prayer wheels, chanting Om Mani Padme Hum and the temple horns were moaning out long deep notes. Just below us the lay the clouds, obliterating the land below, it gave the effect of an island sailing in a sea of clouds, breathtaking.
We had been playing hard all weekend.... early Saturday morning the farmer Rishnu and his wife Anika took Cas and I shopping in Kangra. Our first stop was at a road side stall where Rishnu promptly bought us a local delicacy, noodles in ice with wheat ice cream topped with angelica. What don't you do in India, eat at road side stalls, take ice in anything (unclean water), or eat cream, what to do, eat or not eat, so we ate. I am awaiting Delhi belly any time now!
We were whisked off to the market and bought silk cloth to make a new salwar kameez, everyone is SO generous it is embarrassing and humbling. By the way photos will be loaded on my arrival home... I can see you yawning now.
Then a quick change and a mad bus ride to Dharamsaler after which we caught a huge four wheel drive vehicle up the mountain. I had to cling on to a young Indian man all the way up to the top, having his tight, taut body to hold on to helped a lot.................. eat your heart out girls! We booked into the hotel then rushed down the hill to the Spa where we had a Hienneken massage, it reached parts that other massages never reach and we left the spa with oil dripping out of our hair and bruised feet.
So now I am back home. Cas has just been whisked off by the farmers son on his motor bike with no crash helmet and I am sat here worrying, always the mother, I cannot help it. I have lesson planning for tomorrow to complete and I must have a shower to try and get the oil out of my hair and off my skin. I look like a two day old chip, oh! the glamour of foreign travel.
We had been playing hard all weekend.... early Saturday morning the farmer Rishnu and his wife Anika took Cas and I shopping in Kangra. Our first stop was at a road side stall where Rishnu promptly bought us a local delicacy, noodles in ice with wheat ice cream topped with angelica. What don't you do in India, eat at road side stalls, take ice in anything (unclean water), or eat cream, what to do, eat or not eat, so we ate. I am awaiting Delhi belly any time now!
We were whisked off to the market and bought silk cloth to make a new salwar kameez, everyone is SO generous it is embarrassing and humbling. By the way photos will be loaded on my arrival home... I can see you yawning now.
Then a quick change and a mad bus ride to Dharamsaler after which we caught a huge four wheel drive vehicle up the mountain. I had to cling on to a young Indian man all the way up to the top, having his tight, taut body to hold on to helped a lot.................. eat your heart out girls! We booked into the hotel then rushed down the hill to the Spa where we had a Hienneken massage, it reached parts that other massages never reach and we left the spa with oil dripping out of our hair and bruised feet.
So now I am back home. Cas has just been whisked off by the farmers son on his motor bike with no crash helmet and I am sat here worrying, always the mother, I cannot help it. I have lesson planning for tomorrow to complete and I must have a shower to try and get the oil out of my hair and off my skin. I look like a two day old chip, oh! the glamour of foreign travel.
Thursday 20 May 2010
The good life
I don't know whether to tell you guys this, it will ruin my credibility as a missionary in India, but ....Cas and I have just arranged a weekend in Chonor House, THE place that Richard Gere and Goldie Hawn stay when they fly in for some Buddhist conferences and that's not all we have also booked an afternoon in Bahuysunag village at the Hotel Anand Palace Spa for some intense pampering. I feel SO naughty! So now you know, it's not all work. When I do finally arrive home in my salwaar kameez with nails painted red, henna'd hair and Kohl round my eyes don't shunt me off into a home for the elderly it's because I finally went bonkers in the heat.
On arrival at the play group this morning all the children were eating milk powder from old drawing paper on the floor like little puppies; as we walked in they looked up, they had white noses and a Charlie Chaplin mustache. A couple of days ago one of the mums opened a bag of sugar and all the children crowded round like fledglings with their mouths open, she took a handful of sugar and poured some into each rosebud mouth, the kids loved it. I wonder what Jamie Oliver would say?
Each little child has a smudge of soot on their forehead, at first I thought they had birthmarks but then realised what is was. I asked why they had this mark and was told that the parents thought that their own child was so beautiful that they had to spoil their good looks so that evil spirits passing by would not be tempted to steal their beautiful child away.
We managed to make some play dough last night and took it to the pre school today. On the way to school we bought a bar of 'Lifebuoy" and filled a giant bucket with water from a stand pipe down the lane. All the children came outside to wash their hands before playing with the dough (the Indian workers thought we had gone mad) and the pupils had a great time splashing the water around and making bubbles. Just before we left and had cleared up the children quite spontaneously broke into a game 'stalking tigers', do they know something I don't know?
The primary school pupils have made good progress and can read the basics in English now. Did you know that the Hindi for bear is baloo, I thought not. They really are amazing because they also speak and write Hindi and Sanskrit, they are better men than me Gunga Din.
The ladies in the commerce class have mastered the keyboard and are now working on accuracy and speed. Didn't they do well? Or as they say in Hamachel Pradesh, shabosh (excellent).
On arrival at the play group this morning all the children were eating milk powder from old drawing paper on the floor like little puppies; as we walked in they looked up, they had white noses and a Charlie Chaplin mustache. A couple of days ago one of the mums opened a bag of sugar and all the children crowded round like fledglings with their mouths open, she took a handful of sugar and poured some into each rosebud mouth, the kids loved it. I wonder what Jamie Oliver would say?
Each little child has a smudge of soot on their forehead, at first I thought they had birthmarks but then realised what is was. I asked why they had this mark and was told that the parents thought that their own child was so beautiful that they had to spoil their good looks so that evil spirits passing by would not be tempted to steal their beautiful child away.
We managed to make some play dough last night and took it to the pre school today. On the way to school we bought a bar of 'Lifebuoy" and filled a giant bucket with water from a stand pipe down the lane. All the children came outside to wash their hands before playing with the dough (the Indian workers thought we had gone mad) and the pupils had a great time splashing the water around and making bubbles. Just before we left and had cleared up the children quite spontaneously broke into a game 'stalking tigers', do they know something I don't know?
The primary school pupils have made good progress and can read the basics in English now. Did you know that the Hindi for bear is baloo, I thought not. They really are amazing because they also speak and write Hindi and Sanskrit, they are better men than me Gunga Din.
The ladies in the commerce class have mastered the keyboard and are now working on accuracy and speed. Didn't they do well? Or as they say in Hamachel Pradesh, shabosh (excellent).
Monday 17 May 2010
Deep embarrasment
Casandra and I thought it would be a good idea to take empty water bottles to the Angarawi (pre school group) this morning. We played at knocking them down with a ball and then hit on the idea of using them as musical instruments. One thing led to another and we ended up making a terrible din using them as drum sticks. The children loved it, unfortunately the government clerk who was working next door didn't, he came rushing in wearing his fine uniform and badges and shouted at us 'Shut up". Couldn't help having a good giggle!
The school rooms we work in are very dark, no lighting just a small window with a grill on it. On the floor there is an old mat and that's it. Consequently, we have to be very inventive with play equipment (that's my excuse and I am sticking to it). The children are a delight and love to play all the games the children play at home., 'Oranges and Lemons', 'London Bridge', 'Head Shoulders, Knees and Toes', etc., I am in my element.
The primary school room is darker still with just a concrete floor, that's it, it gets extremely hot in there. The pupils sit on the floor cross legged in front of us and if they don't pay attention Varun who stands at the back of the class to observe will give them a clip on the ear. Our English lessons are taken very seriously and the children are making great progress.
There are regular power cuts which don't seem to phase anyone, we just get the candles out. The women carry water on their heads in big pots from rivers and springs which flow into the village from the mountains and the maize which the farmer sowed five days ago is already green in the fields, it's amazing, it really is Shangrila.
All last night I heard strange noises outside my bedroom window and on getting up this morning found that Queen Elizabeth, the milk cow, had given birth to a calf. Evidently the farmer and his wife had played midwives all night and the cow was none too sure about motherhood, after a lot of coaxing Queen Elizabeth is now letting Nancy suckle. It was like being on the set of 'The Archers' when I went over in my jim jams this morning to congratulate the farmer and his wife on their new arrival.
The school rooms we work in are very dark, no lighting just a small window with a grill on it. On the floor there is an old mat and that's it. Consequently, we have to be very inventive with play equipment (that's my excuse and I am sticking to it). The children are a delight and love to play all the games the children play at home., 'Oranges and Lemons', 'London Bridge', 'Head Shoulders, Knees and Toes', etc., I am in my element.
The primary school room is darker still with just a concrete floor, that's it, it gets extremely hot in there. The pupils sit on the floor cross legged in front of us and if they don't pay attention Varun who stands at the back of the class to observe will give them a clip on the ear. Our English lessons are taken very seriously and the children are making great progress.
There are regular power cuts which don't seem to phase anyone, we just get the candles out. The women carry water on their heads in big pots from rivers and springs which flow into the village from the mountains and the maize which the farmer sowed five days ago is already green in the fields, it's amazing, it really is Shangrila.
All last night I heard strange noises outside my bedroom window and on getting up this morning found that Queen Elizabeth, the milk cow, had given birth to a calf. Evidently the farmer and his wife had played midwives all night and the cow was none too sure about motherhood, after a lot of coaxing Queen Elizabeth is now letting Nancy suckle. It was like being on the set of 'The Archers' when I went over in my jim jams this morning to congratulate the farmer and his wife on their new arrival.
Sunday 16 May 2010
St. John's Church in the Wilderness
Sunday morning and I thought I would travel up to McLeodGanj and take in the morning service. It is a really pretty Anglican Church built by the colonials in the 1800's high in the Himalayas. Lord Elgin is buried there, as are lots of English men and women who died young in the service of their country, quite poignant really, so far from home and family.
I don't know what I expected but it wasn't what I got. Not a foreign office chappie or a Major General in sight. The church was full of 'hippies' and the service was taken by a lad with a guitar, so I did what all good ladies do and joined in and sang my heart out. One or two of the young people came to speak to me after the service to ask what I was doing in India and one said, 'Respect man', praise indeed. Alleluia!
I sat next to a lovely lady in the church, originally from Burma but now living in Australia. We got on like a house on fire and spent the rest of the day hanging out in the markets haggling over scarves and trinkets, all good fun and Maisie was a natural, running rings round the locals, go Maisie!
The Dalai Lama lives in McLeod and there is a complex of houses for the Tibetans, a hotel where Maisie was staying (Richard Gere and Goldie Hawn also stay there occasionally), and a temple for worship. On entering the temple there was a multitude of people congregating outside, Tibetans, tourists, monks and nuns, there were also beggars asking for alms and it was heartbreaking to see them suffering with terrible afflictions like leprosy and polio deseases that have been eradicated in the West.
Once in the temple I spun huge golden prayer wheels and thought about all my friends and family back home (that's you)!
I don't know what I expected but it wasn't what I got. Not a foreign office chappie or a Major General in sight. The church was full of 'hippies' and the service was taken by a lad with a guitar, so I did what all good ladies do and joined in and sang my heart out. One or two of the young people came to speak to me after the service to ask what I was doing in India and one said, 'Respect man', praise indeed. Alleluia!
I sat next to a lovely lady in the church, originally from Burma but now living in Australia. We got on like a house on fire and spent the rest of the day hanging out in the markets haggling over scarves and trinkets, all good fun and Maisie was a natural, running rings round the locals, go Maisie!
The Dalai Lama lives in McLeod and there is a complex of houses for the Tibetans, a hotel where Maisie was staying (Richard Gere and Goldie Hawn also stay there occasionally), and a temple for worship. On entering the temple there was a multitude of people congregating outside, Tibetans, tourists, monks and nuns, there were also beggars asking for alms and it was heartbreaking to see them suffering with terrible afflictions like leprosy and polio deseases that have been eradicated in the West.
Once in the temple I spun huge golden prayer wheels and thought about all my friends and family back home (that's you)!
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