It's been nearly three months since I left France, and my blog's been really neglected, so I thought I'd bring it back into action while I travel around India this Summer.
We sneakily managed to get upgraded to business class on our flight to Delhi, and that turned out to be the last moment of calm I've had since we touched down over here. India's an assault on all your senses the moment you leave the airport, and the most ridiculous things happen to me here so often that I could easily fill a daily blog (if it weren't for the constant power cuts!)
We managed to knock up a mosquito net den in our room pretty quickly (which I'm actually so fond of now that I might get a similar one on the go in Southampton next year). It turns out that our den doesn't only stop us getting bitten to death but also provides another layer of protection against the angriest monkeys ever. They lurk about in gangs (think of the Cravendale cats clicking their thumbs...) and last night they tried their hardest to batter my bedroom door down.
Right now it's monsoon season so there's generally a manic daily downpour, although it's held off for the past couple of days. The first day I was here in Varanasi, where we're living for a while, I was still learning that you have to dodge the rickshaws, motorbikes, school buses and cows going in all directions if you want to get anywhere. Unfortunately, whilst avoiding death-by-rickshaw I lost a flip-flop in a monsoon induced puddle of sludge (think rubbish, chewed tobacco, cowpats, urine and other delights). After fishing this out, I managed to disgrace myself by walking straight into an oncoming cow. I've learnt quickly now that as India's holy animals they take priority, even if you are wrist deep in shit.
I've tried my best to keep in touch with home this week, although power cuts across the whole of Northern and Eastern India meant that yesterday I found myself trying to Skype whilst competing with a blender in a cafe for a good half an hour. Another Indian novelty is that they always turn the router off when they're finished with it. I might not take that particular habit home with me, but I really like the family I'm living with. Every morning I eat breakfast with a mouse and lizards, and the family helps out with all the little things which should be straightforward, but aren't, such as applying for an Indian SIM card (basically impossible if you aren't Indian) involving numerous passport photos and ID photocopies.Even the passport photo process here is classic Indian, where I ended up in the back office of a camera shop, with one guy holding a camera and his whole family instructing me to smile 'a medium amount'. There was also all round shock that I went for the premium 'immediate option', where 8 passport photos came to a grand total of 30 rupees (about 40p).
I also started work in a junior school and orphanage hostel this week, arriving on the host family's motorbike the first day, which was a bit precarious with all the cow-dodging but a good experience nonetheless. Work itself has also been an experience. In a week I've found myself teaching 'The Wheels on the Bus' to a very confused bunch of non-English-speaking 3 year olds, having one of the hostel girls paint my henna on for one of many Indian festivals, and doing my best to paint goats and lions to decorate a classroom, which ended up coming out more like a cross between a walrus and a sunflower. On the plus side, I've mastered the Indian hole-in-the-ground style toilet, so you win some you lose some.
Although, on the topic of losing, India's power problems are running into their third day now which means the fan in my room doesn't work, and sleeping in 34 degree heat isn't easy. So much so, that unfortunately last night I sleep-walked on to the roof (doubly risky because of the possibility of a monkey mauling) and thought I'd found a dead body there. It turned out Sanjay, the house servant was equally unnerved by his 4am rooftop wake up call as he tried to peacefully sleep al fresco.
I'm writing this wearing my new set of 'salwar kameez', (traditional Indian clothes) which the tailor made in a huff because I am apparently 'annoyingly thin'. You would have thought this would have made his work easier, but I've decided to just go with it and eat a few more poppadoms, because I just nod along to everything here now.
Everything, that is, except the nurse's attempt to give me a blood test today, despite only being a visitor in the hospital where my friend is staying. In fact, as I'm writing this from my visitor's bed (and enjoying a packet of my new favourite crisps: 'Mad Angles: Tomato Mischief'), I have just been weighed and a lady's carefully sweeping around me with a twig broom for the fifth time today. They like to make visitors feel included here; so included in fact, that I was chased by 4 police officers and a doctor when I left last night, asking why I was leaving. Oh, India.
Anyway this has now become the world's longest blog and I've got a lingering feeling I may have locked Pedro, our Brazilian neighbour, out of our shared bathroom again (this happens amusingly frequently), so I'll write more and hopefully add pictures soon. However, next week is mainly dedicated to finding the most fantastically named business ever, lurking somewhere in the labyrinth that is Varanasi: 'Gaylord's Ice Cream Parlour.' India, I love you.
We sneakily managed to get upgraded to business class on our flight to Delhi, and that turned out to be the last moment of calm I've had since we touched down over here. India's an assault on all your senses the moment you leave the airport, and the most ridiculous things happen to me here so often that I could easily fill a daily blog (if it weren't for the constant power cuts!)
We managed to knock up a mosquito net den in our room pretty quickly (which I'm actually so fond of now that I might get a similar one on the go in Southampton next year). It turns out that our den doesn't only stop us getting bitten to death but also provides another layer of protection against the angriest monkeys ever. They lurk about in gangs (think of the Cravendale cats clicking their thumbs...) and last night they tried their hardest to batter my bedroom door down.
Right now it's monsoon season so there's generally a manic daily downpour, although it's held off for the past couple of days. The first day I was here in Varanasi, where we're living for a while, I was still learning that you have to dodge the rickshaws, motorbikes, school buses and cows going in all directions if you want to get anywhere. Unfortunately, whilst avoiding death-by-rickshaw I lost a flip-flop in a monsoon induced puddle of sludge (think rubbish, chewed tobacco, cowpats, urine and other delights). After fishing this out, I managed to disgrace myself by walking straight into an oncoming cow. I've learnt quickly now that as India's holy animals they take priority, even if you are wrist deep in shit.
I've tried my best to keep in touch with home this week, although power cuts across the whole of Northern and Eastern India meant that yesterday I found myself trying to Skype whilst competing with a blender in a cafe for a good half an hour. Another Indian novelty is that they always turn the router off when they're finished with it. I might not take that particular habit home with me, but I really like the family I'm living with. Every morning I eat breakfast with a mouse and lizards, and the family helps out with all the little things which should be straightforward, but aren't, such as applying for an Indian SIM card (basically impossible if you aren't Indian) involving numerous passport photos and ID photocopies.Even the passport photo process here is classic Indian, where I ended up in the back office of a camera shop, with one guy holding a camera and his whole family instructing me to smile 'a medium amount'. There was also all round shock that I went for the premium 'immediate option', where 8 passport photos came to a grand total of 30 rupees (about 40p).
I also started work in a junior school and orphanage hostel this week, arriving on the host family's motorbike the first day, which was a bit precarious with all the cow-dodging but a good experience nonetheless. Work itself has also been an experience. In a week I've found myself teaching 'The Wheels on the Bus' to a very confused bunch of non-English-speaking 3 year olds, having one of the hostel girls paint my henna on for one of many Indian festivals, and doing my best to paint goats and lions to decorate a classroom, which ended up coming out more like a cross between a walrus and a sunflower. On the plus side, I've mastered the Indian hole-in-the-ground style toilet, so you win some you lose some.
Although, on the topic of losing, India's power problems are running into their third day now which means the fan in my room doesn't work, and sleeping in 34 degree heat isn't easy. So much so, that unfortunately last night I sleep-walked on to the roof (doubly risky because of the possibility of a monkey mauling) and thought I'd found a dead body there. It turned out Sanjay, the house servant was equally unnerved by his 4am rooftop wake up call as he tried to peacefully sleep al fresco.
I'm writing this wearing my new set of 'salwar kameez', (traditional Indian clothes) which the tailor made in a huff because I am apparently 'annoyingly thin'. You would have thought this would have made his work easier, but I've decided to just go with it and eat a few more poppadoms, because I just nod along to everything here now.
Everything, that is, except the nurse's attempt to give me a blood test today, despite only being a visitor in the hospital where my friend is staying. In fact, as I'm writing this from my visitor's bed (and enjoying a packet of my new favourite crisps: 'Mad Angles: Tomato Mischief'), I have just been weighed and a lady's carefully sweeping around me with a twig broom for the fifth time today. They like to make visitors feel included here; so included in fact, that I was chased by 4 police officers and a doctor when I left last night, asking why I was leaving. Oh, India.
Anyway this has now become the world's longest blog and I've got a lingering feeling I may have locked Pedro, our Brazilian neighbour, out of our shared bathroom again (this happens amusingly frequently), so I'll write more and hopefully add pictures soon. However, next week is mainly dedicated to finding the most fantastically named business ever, lurking somewhere in the labyrinth that is Varanasi: 'Gaylord's Ice Cream Parlour.' India, I love you.
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