What are you doing for the break?

I am 3 days into my two-week spring break and sitting in a technology class at the NESA Spring Conference in Bangkok. Next stop, Phuket, then Chennai, then Negombo. Before I departed I asked my students and parents where they would be spending their holiday.

Dubai

Spain

London

Nepal

Cambodia

Bali

Thailand

Goa

Korea

Sri Lanka

Philippines

France

China

Cancelled trip to Japan (boo), instead going to Bangkok

Sweden

What a fortunate group! Wow.

Seth Goes West, I Leave East, and All Three Depart South

Seth left late Thursday night for San Francisco. He will be in San Francisco 7 days, but gone for 10. Wow, India is far away! Sunday marked the 6 month anniversary of his arrival to India. Translation—your time is up! He flew to San Francisco to renew his visa, making it possible for him to stay the remainder of the school year, and because he is currently a resident of Washington State, the Travisa Outsourcing in San Francisco is his jurisdiction. You might recall, this is the same institution Domenic and I obtained (or almost didn’t) our India visas in July. Six months of India-Livin’ is all it took to know what to do. Seth had an appointment first thing Monday morning. In he walked, armed with a plethora of paperwork and documents. Fifteen minutes later and some words of admiration, “Wow, you are thorough!” Seth was given the nod of approval to come back the next day for his new visa. Phew.

When Seth arrives home, we will have about 10 days together before it’s my turn to depart. I will be attending the Spring Educator’s Conference in Bangkok. This is a professional development opportunity available through the school. The application process involves a brief proposal and cost analysis. Upon approval, individuals are awarded the cost of registration, round-trip tickets, hotel accommodations, and per diem. Not a bad deal, right? In return, those of us attending will “pay” the school back by sharing what we have learned. This can be done by offering a class during one of our professional development days throughout the year. I feel very lucky to be attending. The conference is only 3 ½ days so the remaining week will be spent in Phuket. My childhood friends, Kristin and Adrienne, are flying over for a vacation of their own. Once the week is over, I will say my good-byes, fly back to India, unpack and repack. Seth, Domenic and I are departing the following day to Sri Lanka for the remainder of spring break.

The next flight we take will be in June when we return to Washington for our summer visit.

Puke-Cow

It’s a known fact; there are many cows in India. In an average day, one can easily spy cows causally strolling down a neighborhood road, snacking on trash from one of the many overflowing dumpsters, crossing through rush hour traffic without a care in the world, and sprawling out in the center of the busiest roads.

We see cows so often they have become invisible to us. This was true until the day we encountered Puke-Cow. Puke-Cow is the resident cow at the local wine shop, a mascot if you will. He spends his days lumbering around the premise and keeping time with the local bar-flies (literally and figuratively). As humans we don’t routinely do something unless the payoff is worth it. It’s no different with Puke-Cow. He hangs out at the wine shop waiting for his meal to be delivered to him at his feet, all the puke he can eat! He was officially granted this name the day Seth arrived, order in hand, and was unable to enter. Standing at the entrance, and feasting on a freshly delivered meal, was Puke-Cow. He lifted his head, a string of slime connecting his mouth to the ground, and eyed Seth as if to say, “Get your own meal. This one is mine.”

Hmm? A convenient coincidence cows are sacred and therefore not eaten?

You might be wondering what type of an establishment would allow such a resident? The wine shops here are putrid, and sadly the only places to buy alcohol. The building looks like a shack. It’s filthy with a dirt floor and when it rains, a cesspool of diseases creates a moat around the entrance. It’s difficult to imagine such a sight so I have included some pictures. The only element missing is the smell. Sorry.

The wine shops are something I never set foot into. Seth has been granted the honors and when he comes home I can be heard shouting, “Do not put those bottles in the fridge, freezer, or elsewhere without disinfecting them. To the sink they go!!!!”

Pre-wedding Reception in India

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Celebrations and Congratulations; India style

We have only lived here a short while, but have been lucky enough to develop some lasting friendships. The news of our engagement was a joyous occasion for many and a perfect excuse for a celebration. The parents of my students surprised Seth and I with a party in the class. Sixteen of the seventeen mothers attended. There was cake, gifts, and cards. Pretty special.

Dorcy, bless her heart, took it upon herself to organize a fantastic event to be held outside of school hours, on the rooftop of our apartment building. Over 60 people attended. There was plenty of alcohol, tasty food, and dancing. Our good friend, Priya, also took it upon herself to do a bit of organizing of her own. The Indian attire in the photos is Priya’s influence; something I can’t thank her enough for. We never would have dressed the part without her enthusiasm and navigational skills; a must when shopping in India.

A few weeks prior to the event, we made friends with a local photographer. For a small fee he was hired to take photos. It’s amazing what a skilled photographer can capture when equipped with a functioning camera and a quality lens. I am sure you will feel the same after viewing the Smilebox.

The next day I went to my scheduled appointment with the endodontist to have oral surgery and remove the infection around the root of my front tooth. Thank God the medical world here operates NOthing like the rest of the country. I was in good hands. The infection was removed and a bone graft performed. I left stitched up, swollen and feeling nauseated. Some people can handle the dentist. I’m not one of them. I may have been numbed up, but my hearing was superb. Not only did I have to listen to the play-by-play of what was happening (yes, in English), but I also heard the grinding, cutting, drilling and whatever else. Blech.

As I type this, it’s been 3 days after the party, Monday, and I am home from school. I made a gallant attempt to attend work, but one look at my swollen face had people questioning, “What happened? Why are you here? You need to go home.” Somehow I needed to hear this from my colleagues. For all those teachers out there reading this, you will know exactly what I mean!

Taj Mahal

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Delayed Planes, No Trains, and Too Much Time in an Automobile

Seth and I flew North in pursuit of the Taj Mahal, officially one of the New 7 Wonders of the World. We returned home exhausted, after what can safely be defined as a typical Indian experience, and wondering how this country functions at all?

Domenic had already been to the Taj, so he stayed with some friends for the weekend and had what I am positive was a restful and relaxing weekend if compared to our fiasco. We were scheduled to depart on a 2.5 hour flight to Delhi, Friday night and return Sunday night; a simple weekend jaunt, or so we foolishly thought!

We arrived to the Chennai airport on time, but that didn’t mean the flight departed on time. Flights to Delhi are notorious for being late. As we sat in the most boring of airports world-wide, we read our itinerary more thoroughly and noticed our return flight was at 6:30 AM, not 6:30 PM like we thought! So much for reading military time. Super.

The time had come to finally board the plane. After waiting, and waiting, and waiting…..it was our turn. “Sorry, you cannot enter. The tag on your laptop bag is missing a stamp.” Off I ran to stand in a line for a magical stamp that would allow me to stand in another line for approval to enter the line for the shuttle which would take us to the final line, the steps leading into the plane. The flight was pretty much par for the course and a foreshadowing of the weekend.

“Would you like something to drink?” questioned the friendly flight attendant.

“I’ll have a Sprite.” (NO alcohol served, darn)

“I’m not sure we have Sprite. I’ll have to check.” (Check means after everyone has been served and if she remembers. They never remember.)

“How about a Coke then?”

“I’m not sure we have Coke. I’ll have to check.”

“Okay, can I have a cup of black tea?”

“That would take a very long time.” Of course it will.

Since the beverage cart was toppling over with bottled water, I decided to make it simple.

“Can I have a bottle of water please?”

“Sure!” But true to India style, pulling a bottle off the cart right in front of her was just too simple and efficient. Out she shouted to the front of the plane for a miniature bottle, containing about a half-cup of water. Insufficient to quench the thirst I had worked up just trying to get a drink.

The beverage cart pushed on and I headed toward the restroom in the rear of the plane. As I was walking back to my seat I saw what was sitting on everyone’s tray table, Coke, Sprite…Coke, Coke, Sprite, Sprite, Coke…… Grrrrr

The plane was descending and the wheels on the plane still bouncing off the tarmac when we heard clicking, the result of hundreds of seatbelts unsnapping. Now all of a sudden everyone is in a hurry. While the plane was roaring down the runway, several passengers took it upon themselves to open the overhead bins only to be greeted by luggage cascading down (luggage that may have shifted during the flight-duh).

The next morning we headed to Agra, home of the Taj, and naïve to what awaited us. From Delhi to Agra is 203 km or 126 miles. It took us 6.5 hours to get there. Terrible. Eventually we rolled into town, and picked up our tour guide who sadly notified us, “The Taj has just been closed for the day!!!”

I looked at Seth and said, “For the first time, I hate this country.” Foreign Ministers and heads of delegations of the Least Developed Countries were in town; perfectly acceptable reason to close the Taj Mahal on a moments notice, after all, this is India, a country void of rules and regulations.

Now what? Our luggage was back in Delhi and we were scheduled to leave at the crack of dawn. I told Seth that I was absolutely NOT leaving without seeing the Taj Mahal. I refused to go home having only seen the back seat of a taxi, and the bathrooms along the way; dusty shrubs on the side of the road. We went to a local travel agent, booked new tickets to return Sunday night and a hotel room in Agra. After a very nice dinner at the Oberoi Hotel, we retired for the night, sans toothbrushes, make-up, fresh clothes and clean underwear.

We awoke to crisp clean air and a nice sunrise. Straight to the Taj we went and into the long queue for security clearance. There were two lines, one for men and one for women. The men’s line was advancing at lightning speed while the women’s line seemed to be moving backwards. I cut in front of about 120 people in a fruitless attempt to reach Seth, but nothing could slow the men down and I figured risking injury by cutting in line a second time probably wasn’t a good idea. It took about 25 minutes before I was finally patted down. “My turn” couldn’t have come soon enough. I was about ready to strip down to nothing just to avoid another minute in line. Finally, finally, finally, we got to see the Taj. Was it worth it? ABSOLUTELY!!

To view this structure up close and to walk on the premise was breathtaking. After getting our fill, we journeyed back to Delhi. We must have gotten lucky because this time it only took 5 hours to travel 126 miles. Next time we will take the train. Oh wait—I vowed there would never be a next time.

It was a long and exhausting weekend, but our mission was accomplished. I think it’s safe to say we spent the same amount of our net worth seeing the Taj Mahal as the Shah did building it. Phew!