The Train Guys Think I'm an Idiot

On Sunday, October 13th, I set out on my first solo trip in India.

It started with a train.

(Well, technically, it started with a taxi, but I've done taxi's before so that's old news.)

I arrived an hour before the train was scheduled to depart and found it waiting for me. The train station in Dehradun isn't terrible vast, so I located it quickly. Now it was time to find which car I was booked on. I had initially found myself with a wait-listed ticket, which meant that I couldn't even enter the train, but was later changed to a Reservation Against Cancellation (RAC) ticket, which meant that I was sharing a berth with someone else. Why? I don't know. India does that to you sometimes.

I was told that I would have to check a list somewhere to see where my ticket was valid. I was expecting to find the list at a booth or on a column somewhere, but it was actually right on the train. That made sense, but also meant that I had to travel the length of the train to see where my name (incorrectly spelled) was printed. After asking a young man how to read the list (half of it was in Hindi), I figured it out and got on the train.

I was definitely the very first person on the train car. It was totally empty, which was a little eerie, but also gave me a chance to take in my surroundings and get to know the system. It looked like this:

Another benefit to being the first person on the train: I was able to grab the window and corner side with the personal reading light. Anyone who has traveled with me knows that I like having the window seat, so it was a little bonus. The window didn't open, and had a yellowish tint to it, but I was pretty content.

Others started coming in, getting settled. I met my bunkmate, who I will refer to as Grumpy Man, and a mother with a young child who had purchased a high bunk by accident. After asking the man below her berth if he could take the higher one so her child could be safe, and being denied by that jerk, she asked me if I could switch with her. I explained my situation regretfully. I only had half the bunk to offer. We all sat together until the conductor came up to take our tickets and collect another 25 INR (the rate had gone up while no one was looking, apparently). After much talking in Hindi between Conductor, Grumpy Man, and Mother, it was revealed that I had actually been booked on berth 43 and that Grumpy Man was leaving. I agreed to trade my berth with Mother's and spent the rest of the night reading, playing with Child, or talking with Mother.

The next day, Mother and Child left the train at their stop in Lucknow and I resumed my previous berth. It was this day that I became aware that the train guys must think I'm an absolute idiot. There are four major moments that reinforce that belief:

1) The chai situation. A man with Betel nut stains in his teeth came to my compartment and said, "Chai?" I was eager for some, and replied affirmatively, but then realized that I had no idea how to proceed. Was he getting some for me? Should I give him money? Do I need to get off the train (it was stopped at a station)? He sensed my uncertainty and tried to communicate, him knowing Hindi and me knowing English. He almost gave up several times, and spoke to his friend in Hindi about me, saying something that I translated to, "I'm trying to explain to this stupid white girl that she needs to get off the train to get chai and she's just not getting it." After a while, I figured out that I needed to get off the train and get a chai at the station. 7 INR. Not bad.

2) The breakfast debacle. Just as I was sitting down to my chai back on the train, another man came by offering the breakfasty train equivalent of TV dinners. I bought one (HUGE RIPOFF at 160 INR), and I tried to open it. The foil on the top of the tray was tough and, as soon as any of the oily food got onto it, it was impossible to grip. I struggled with this foil for 20 minutes, while Helpful Man and his Friend looked on, sipping their chai. I spilled food onto the tray table, onto the floor, onto my pants. Finally, I decided to cut it. I took my little knitting scissors from my pocket and cut each individual portion of the tray. I finally ate my breakfast, but my dignity was in shreds. Also, clean-up was an involved process.

3) The leaning out of the train issue. Earlier in the day, I had seen a man lean out of the open door of the train, sunglasses on, hair ruffling in the breeze, looking so free. I vowed that, the next time I saw an open door while the train was running, I would take advantage of it and do the same. After breakfast, I went to throw away my tray and found an open door! Yes! I went to it eagerly, grasped the outer handles and leaned myself out a bit. It was truly exhilarating. I watched field fly by in the morning sun. It was hot and humid already at 8 AM. I stood there, smiling to myself, squinting into the distance, when I heard a familiar voice behind me. Helpful Man stood there, motioning that I should come inside the train. I'm pretty sure he said, "It's dangerous!" I smiled at him and leaned out again, but he persisted, and I reluctantly returned to my berth. He spoke about me again to his friend and they laughed heartily.

4) In the late morning, Helpful Man was apparently bored and decided to try and communicate a little more with the inexperienced white train girl. He sat down in a decidedly casual manner, leaning to the side of the berth one elbow, barefoot, made a motion with his hands that looked like he was striking a match and said something that sounded like "Sweet Tarts?" I looked at him blankly. Did he want Sweet Tarts? Does he have Sweet Tarts? Was he wondering if I wanted Sweet Tarts? Can you even get Sweet Tarts in India? Does he need a match for something? Is he asking me if I need a light? Another friend of his, who was wearing a suit jacket, slacks, and tennis shoes, translated Helpful Man's question: "So you knit?" Oh. Of course. That explains the hand motion. I brought out my project and Suit Jacket and Helpful Man sat down and looked admiringly at my work. After smiling for a bit, none of us had anything to say, so they left and I continued my reading.

The train was uneventful after that, even eerie because of the dearth of people, but I got some cool photos of the ride.

Changsheel, Day 6: The Last Hill -Or- The Importance of Feral Children

After the serious weather we had the night before, we were all quite pleased to see the sun shining when we stumbled out of our tents. It was the last day of trekking, and the students were quite energetic. As we hiked down the mountain, I thought about the 50 km (!!!) that we had just hiked, the sights and and vistas we had seen, and the value of this week we had together. Because I work mostly with Junior School, I didn't know many of these 10th graders when we started on the trek, but I felt like I had a genuine connection with (almost) all of them, and that we had developed some cool relationships during our time together.

Ain't no party like a Changsheel party! Weary and triumphant after our last leg of trekking.

Splashing in the river.

One of our beloved mules.

A couple days later, this article was posted on Facebook via The Guardian by the Hanifl Center, which illustrates the importance of such outings: http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2013/oct/07/education-children-not-feral-enough

The author, George Monbiot, defends the important of outdoor education through his own experience leading students in fieldwork as well as through hard data. He writes of the enlivening effect of being

outdoors, and explains, using several studies and reports, the benefits of bringing students out of the classroom and allowing them to simply explore the natural world around them. Students had "sharp improvements in attention", better long-term memory. He also points out a study done in the United States:

"Teenage girls taken on a three-week canoeing trip in the United States remained, even 18 months later, more determined, more prepared to speak out and show leadership, and more inclined to challenge conventional notions of femininity."

This particular study interested me, because, as a feminist and a teacher, I have a vested interest in understanding the catalysts that create strong, resilient, powerful women. Something I learned on the trek I just completed is that, while many of the students would whine during the hiking portion of the trek, they would perk up completely when we reached camp. By the time the trek was done, I would hear these two sentences, often with a smile: "I'm never hiking again,"and then, "I can't believe we walked 50 km in 5 days!" This tells me that, at this point, students are confusing a difficult task with a negative task. Yes, hiking is hard, but how awesome will you feel when you look back and think about the difficult situations you overcame? There is a serious sense of pride that accompanies such a journey, and treks like these are sometimes the first time that young people, especially young women, feel a very real sense of accomplishment. You might be able to fake it through that English test, but you definitely can't fake it up a mountain, and the more you procrastinate, the later you get to your tent.

Despite the multitude of studies, anecdotes, and positive testimonials from students and teachers alike, funding is being systematically cut for outdoor education programs, according to Monbiot. There is a disconnect between support on paper and support in funding, and students are feeling it, especially those who have spent their lives in urban settings. Monbiot questions the value of an education system that only "fosters and rewards a narrow set of skills." He had noticed a boy with particularly acute observation and intuition in the natural world, and later found out that no one had ever informed the boy of his own remarkable skills and that he was struggling in school. This boy had never had the opportunity to showcase them in his particular school context. What is the use of an education system if it does not embrace the abilities of all of our students?

Monbiot directs our attention to the word "feral", reiterating the definition: released from captivity or domestication. Our students are not feral enough, he says. They must be reintroduced to the wild or suffer the consequences of captivity in a classroom of four walls.

My personal experience on this trek has been an overwhelmingly positive one, despite the difficulty of the task. I was able to see the beauty of nature, the resilience in my own body and the bodies of those around me. I cultivated relationships that would never have been started if not for this trip. I stretched my physical, mental, and spiritual boundaries, and grew closer to nature as a result. Just five days of trekking, and I feel like a bigger person. If we could get every student out in the dirt, exploring and surviving, at least once a year, what might that mean for the engagement in our classrooms? What might that mean for leadership in our communities, for a greater gender balance in the sciences, in education? Some amazing changes could take hold, and it would be as easy as exploring a park, or taking a field trip to a farm. Let's head outside!

Changsheel, Day 5: There and Back Again

Day 5 was the day we began our descent. This particular trek was "there and back", meaning that we'd use the same trails and campsites on the way down that we used on the way up. Part of me was a bit disappointed because I wanted to see new sites. A bigger part of me was glad that we were using the same trails, because the sense of the familiar would provide a little comfort. I found out that, while going up is difficult in a muscular way, going down is difficult (and can be painful) in a skeletal way.

Our Day 5 descent took us through the same easy terrain that we had traversed a couple days before, and we ended up making camp before lunch! I was glad of the rest, as my knees were in a bit of pain. I took a Brufin (the Indian version of our ibuprofen) and did a little muscle massage and some stretching to release my tension. I'm probably going to see a specialist about my low arches and knee pain when I get back to the States.

Peter, one of the staff leaders, brought his hackey sack on the trip, and we had played quite a bit the night before. This afternoon, since we arrived so early, we took it out again (after the students had finished their English assignments) and played with about 10 people. 15 minutes into the game, I started to hear a rushing sound coming from the mountain above us. I wasn't sure what it was at first, and then realized it was rain. A front of rain was making its way from the top of the mountain down to us, which gave our hackey sack game an added suspenseful element. As soon as we felt raindrops, everyone immediately scattered and fled to their tents. Once safely inside, we (the staff members) heard incredibly loud raindrops. Turns out it was hail! Little pea-sized ice chunks were flying through the air at us, and we had only canvas to protect us.

And, as it turned out, that canvas did little to keep the rain off of us initially. The direction of the wind made it so that, despite the meticulous staking job we did while erecting our tent, one side of the tent was dry and one side of the tent had the rain-fly sticking to it, effectively canceling out the rainproofing of the design. As I occupied that particular side of the tent, I had a vested interest in maintaining the integrity of the waterproofing. The three of us sprang into action, each with tools we had thought to bring: Larry with his Leatherman, Peter with his hemp string and his hackey sack, and me with my knitting scissors and yarn. Larry and Peter set to securing the front zipper of the fly while I worked on creating inward tension on the inner layer of mesh of the tent to separate it from the rain fly. With our headlamps on, we looked pretty "in-tents" (get it?!?).

By placing the hackey sack on the outside of the mesh,
we could secure a piece of hemp string to the mesh without sewing into it and tearing it.

Lookin' good.

MacGyver would have been proud.

Dinner was a crazy affair that night! We all ran to and fro like lunatics, filling up bowls with food and then splashing back to the warmth and (relative) dryness of our tents. After dinner, staff tent discussion revolved around issues of science fiction, aliens/UFOs, chaos theory (as exemplified by the movie The Butterfly Effect), Ray Kurtzweill's theory of singularity, and representations of dystopia, status quo and authority figures in fiction and allegory. What a cool conversation! Being stuck in a tent with these two dudes was surprisingly enjoyable.

Changsheel, Day 4: A Mountaintop Experience

When I woke up on the morning of Day 4, I was freezing and I had to use the bathroom terribly. The bathroom situation in the wilderness is comprised of obtaining one of the special pickaxes, secluding yourself in a predetermined area (boys over there, ladies over here), digging a hole, and squatting. It's really an ok experience when the weather conditions are good, but it was cold this particular morning and it was still pretty dark around 4 AM, so I was loathe to go outside. After a tortured internal dialogue about whether or not I could hold it until the alarm when off at 5:50, I finally gathered my bathroom equipment-- toilet paper, hand sanitizer, water bottle-- zipped up my coat, laced up my shoes, and unzipped the tent. I was greeted with this view:

Never was I so glad that I had to poop.

After experiencing the most picturesque bathroom time of my life, I returned to the tent to retrieve my camera and sit in the cold, just looking a the serenity surrounding me. The campsite was asleep, the mules were quietly munching grass (do they ever sleep?), and the light was slowly brightening behind the Himalaya. For a brief moment, I thought about waking everyone one and forcing them to experience the beauty, but I decided to take this moment as my own and spend some time in solitude. Raj, our guide, came down from the kitchen tent with tea, which I eagerly sipped, sitting on my rock. Eventually, the staff alarm went off and the men emerged from the tent, their grogginess fading as they took in the wondrous light coming up from the mountains. It was wonderful to see the awe in everyone's faces as they came out from hibernation and looked around them.

Joy and wonder on the morning of Day 4.

There is nothing quite like a mountain sunrise.

Day 4 was also the day of the Hike Up to the Top. We'd been talking about this particular Hike since the beginning of the trek, and I was totally pumped. We got to hike without our packs! We were only going a total of 6 km, which was going to be a cakewalk compared to what we did to get up here. After breakfast, we cleaned up the camp a bit and got going!

At 14,000 feet, the air is thin. I learned that, even if I don't have a pack on at this elevation, I will be sucking wind. It's just a fact of life. We wound our way up the pass on tight trails, scrabbling our way up rocks and taking in the view. It was absolutely gorgeous up there. I truly felt like I was on top of the world. 360-degree views of the valleys on either side of us, the clouds rushing up to the top of the pass, where they piled on top of themselves and built to great heights. It's really not enough to try and explain it all, so here's some photographic evidence:

Dramatic hiking with Raj!

These clouds were so cool. I don't think
I've even been so close to a weather system in my life.

Top of the pass! If you look closely, you can see a snow peak in the distance.

Our 10th grade crew! What a great bunch.

The ridge was dotted with herds of sheep and their Sheepmen, and you could hear soft bleating through the area everywhere. After the Hike Up to the Top, we took a slight detour and climbed the area directly above our campsite. The sun was shining with incredible strength, the breeze was light and playful, the bees were curious (and expert hoverers), and small wildflowers grew in small clusters everywhere. We spent an hour at the top of that cliff, some people napping, some basking in the sun, some throwing rocks at each other. I sat on the grass with my back to the sun, observing the students and the nature around me, and I felt completely at peace. I was struck with such wonder for the wide world in which we live that all I could do was watch and take it in. Thinking back on the experience, this quote from Vandana Shiva is particularly poignant:

You are not Atlas carrying the world on your shoulder.

It is good to remember that the planet is carrying you.

- Vandana Shiva

Changsheel, Day 3: The Majesty of the Himalaya

Day 3 was, overall, was much easier than the day before. The trail was less steep, we hiked fewer kilometers, my muscles were--inexplicably--not sore from our marathon hike yesterday, and the students seem to be getting the routine.

The ladies really rallied this morning! As the only female staff leader on the trip, I was incredibly proud. They got out of the tent right away, packed their stuff, and took down their tents within a half hour. The boys, on the other hand, were quite lazy and really messy again. There were a couple students who were engaged in some pretty ridiculous self-sabotage: not eating breakfast, for example. This is my first trek, but come on. The importance of nourishing your body before strenuous physical activity is well-documented.

Katherine's #1 Trek Rule: If you self-sabotage by not eating food during the day (food prepared and brought to your frickin' tent every day!), or by not drinking water on the hike, I have very little sympathy for any complaints that float from your mouth to my ears. Shut up, drink your water, eat your trail mix.

This morning, our guide, Raj, showed us his guide training. He was trained at Hanifl Center, the Woodstock outdoor education center! It was so cool to see his diploma and his certification checklist. They were both carefully laminated. He was obviously very proud of it, and we thought it was wonderful to have such a great connection to Woodstock.

The hike was only 10 km today, and the terrain was much more gentle, which everyone was thankful for. The environment around us changed from pine forest to stubby trees, shrubs, and lichen-covered rocks. Apparently, there had been a pretty bad forest fire a few years ago, and it was evident in the number of charred trees and scarred ground. It was really neat to see the changes up close, to really study the ground and the trees and the changes in color around us. I got some great ideas for knitting colorways!

Day 3! Restored and ready to go!

Morning at the campsite: beautiful pine forests.

The landscape further up the trail; much less forest-y, much more alien.
Also full of great ideas for knitting colorways!

The weather was cooler and more misty, so much so that I actually put on a second layer while hiking. During a rest after lunch, we sat in a clearing and got some water. Suddenly, someone shouted, "I can see a snow peak!" We all turned and, sure enough, in the misty clouds, the peak of a snow-capped mountain was visible. It almost blended with the clouds at times, reappearing when the wind shifted. As I gazed at the far-off mountain, tears filled my eyes and my chest swelled with the immensity of what I was seeing. These mountains are so incredible, so ancient and austere. I can't imagine the kind of history these mountains have seen, all the trivial human matters they have loomed over. I was, and still am, overwhelmed by the beauty and the history of this mountain range.

My first snow peak. Words can't describe.

The rest of the hike up to the ridge was rather uneventful, surrounded as we were by a cloud. We reached our campsite, set up the tents, and relaxed. It was cold! I was surprised by the temperature; I'm not sure why. We were at around 14,000 feet of elevation. Later in the evening, the cloud thinned and we could see over the valley that we had just hiked for the past two days, covered in a layer of low-lying cloud. The snow peaks of the Himalaya stood sentinel in the distant east, and there was a crescent moon rising above the ridge. The staff members yelled at at least 5 people for not wearing warm enough clothes (duh). Later, when the sun went down completely, the most beautiful array of stars appeared. From my warm place in the staff tent, I could hear students sitting out in the open, telling stories and finding constellations. The bells on the mules jingled as they munched their way around the campsite.

The rest of the ridge around the campsite.

The snow peaks in the distant east.

Our faithful mules, resting while a crescent moon rises.

Changsheel, Day 2: The Hardest Thing I've Ever Done

Day 2 began at 2 AM with a sleepwalking episode.

The staff members were sleeping in a pyramid tent. It set up really easily, because all we had to do was stake out the sides and then erect a single pole directly in the middle of the tent. The difficult part was actually fitting three adults in the tent. Because the support pole was in the middle, there was no way to equally distribute the space. In the end, two people shared a side, with the one closest to the middle maneuvering the pole onto part of their sleeping mat, and one person had a side to themselves.

After setting a 5:50 AM alarm and going to sleep, my dreams melded with reality. I definitely heard the alarm go off, and I was ready to get out of the tent. I pawed at the corner of the tent closest to my head, certain there was zipper door right there. In the process, I woke up Larry, who was sleeping next to me. "Is everything alright?", he asked. I said yes and grumpily asked where the door was. He looked at me quizzically, then pointed to the other side of the tent, where the door was located. I thanked him and unzipped the tent. Before I left, I paused and asked for the time. Larry looked at his watch and said, "2 AM." Realizing that I was sleepwalking, I muttered, "Never mind," then zipped the tent back up and went to sleep. Whoops.

One of the vistas from our campsite

First Day of Hiking Selfie!

Ready to go!

Once the 5:50 alarm did actually go off, the staff members got going right away, packing our packs and the tent in about 20 minutes. The students were less motivated. Some of the boys had garbage around their tent after only a day, which turned out to be an unfortunate trend as we moved through the national park. We were very strict from the start, mandating that, even if they didn't make the garbage, they picked it up. It was quite frustrating to see a lack of respect for the beautiful nature around us.

An hour late, we started hiking. We were due for a 12 km hike up to our campsite. We wound our way through a beautiful valley, past farm houses, fields with colorful plants, and forests. The residents in the national park waved and Namaste'd us, and we Namaste'd back. The sun was out, the breeze was blowing, and it was an ideal day. We stopped at a peaceful area next to a stream, and students skipped stones, soaked their feet, or took a cat nap on some rocks. Wonderful.

Lizards sunning themselves on a cabin!

Colorful fields in an idyllic valley.

Gnarly wood at the river rest site.

I'm not sure how much elevation we covered in this one hike, but it was immense. This hike, with only 20 lb. packs, was the hardest thing I have ever done. Twice I found myself close to tears because I was so exhausted. In the beginning, I was eager, watching my feet and trail and taking pictures. In the end, I could only focus on staying upright and making my legs pump. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that I didn't have my food or my tent with me; they had gone ahead to the campsite, carried by mules. By lunch, I looked like this:

Ready to give up.

And we had 3 km to go.

Something that made everything better, despite the hard work, the steep trail, and the sweat, was an unexpected herd of goats. 150 or 200 of white fluffy creatures with pink eyes, swarming the path and the hillside above it. They saw us and stopped, as if on cue, staring and flopping their ears. We walked through them and they parted like a school of fish in the ocean, all but one. One goat decided that she really liked one of the boys in our group and followed him up the path, away from the rest of the herd. The boy didn't particularly enjoy the attention (he's actually afraid of goats), and kept trying to shoo it away, but she was very persistent. In the end, one of our guides, Raj, chased it away with a stick.

I somehow made it last 3--which happened to be the steepest--and collapsed on my pack at the campsite. My legs were weak, I was sweating through my shirt, and I didn't want to do anything ever again. 

Notice the pit sweat stains reaching up around my shoulders. Attractive.

Second campsite. Also gorgeous.

The cool part about a trip like this is that, even if you don't know anyone, you learn fast. The attitude and work ethic of each and every person became totally apparent about 15 minutes into the hike. Some started energetic, then faded fast; some quietly and consistently hiked, uncomplaining; some started negative and got revved up; some started negative and slid further downhill. True colors come out when you're forced out of your comfort zone.

Activity Week 2013: Changsheel Pass, Day 1

It's 7:45. We are late, and I am irritated.

I know that I shouldn't be, because, after all, it's India, but we were definitely supposed to get going at 7 this morning. The dining hall, however, didn't get the memo and thought they were good to go opening at 7 AM (they were supposed to open at 6). So, we're late for an 8 hour bus ride, a 45 minute jeep ride, and a campsite setup. Needless to say, I want to get going.

On the bright side, the kids are excited (until they take their motion sickness medication, that is), and the air has a palpable feel of anticipation. We're going on a trek! It's my first. I've gone camping, but never like this. Many of the students, 10th graders, haven't gone trekking before either, and the one student who has experience-- a two-day trek earlier in the semester-- is much too eager to share his expertise for my taste. "When I was on my trek", "We did it this way, you should do it this way", are phrases I'm hearing too often this early on the trek. I'm going to need to find a way to diffuse and distract this kid, or I'm going to go crazy.

I've opted not to take a motion sickness medication. Avomine can work wonders for some people, totally knocking them out until they get to their destination, but it leaves me feeling nauseous and out of my body for hours after I wake up. Plus, I want to see the views! I'm not one to get carsick anyway, and we're driving through some gorgeous territory on the way to the national park where we'll trek. We are on a bus with comfy seats and an obnoxious "TOURIST" sign on the top of the windshield in a bubble font. As we drive the switchbacks between Woodstock and the national park, the scenery shifts from misty pine forest to rocky outcrops to lush green valleys and sunny small villages. Something that struck me about the trip, and about India in general, is the intensity of colors. Green fields are speckled with women and men wearing vibrant hues of aquamarine, fuschia, and vermillion. It's a beautiful sight. Here are some of the photos I took on the way over:

Another thing that dominated our trip was the presence of sketchy construction sites and traffic issues.

The construction sites that we drove through would make a construction worker in the US break a sweat: no orange cones, no detours (how could there be, on a mountain road?), piles of stones, gravel, cement mix, etc. lining the narrow way. It certainly made me nervous, but our driver knew what he was doing.

A bridge was being reinforced, and the road was being widened at this point, I believe.
It was also the "National Highway Project", so this was the official stuff.

When you're on a bus, traveling on roads about the width of your vehicle, traffic maneuvers become considerably more tricky. Of course, if you're just dealing with a scooter, it's easy, because they can pull over really easily or just go around you because they're so small. When you come upon another tourist bus, however: 

Keep in mind that our bus is on the outside of the road, the side of the road jutting over the river valley.

All hazards and difficulties aside, we made it to our destination, Govind National Park. We transferred our bags and gear from the bus to two jeeps and continued into the park on bumpy, rain-gutted roads. Quite the trip on my tailbone and my sitz bones. Our campsite was located on the side of the Rupin River and was clear and beautiful. The campsite itself was full of mule poop (something that became the norm at the rest of our campsites), but it was comfortable and flat (something that was not necessarily the norm at the rest of our campsites).

We settled down for the rest of the night, after having dinner prepared for us by our guides, and prepared for a huge day of hiking tomorrow! Happy Activity Week!

Quick Update

I made it out of the Himalaya after my trek. 5 days of outdoor bliss, snowpeaks, and fun times with a bunch of 10th graders.

I'm now in Varanasi for quarter break! I arrived safely and I'm hanging out in the city, hoping the rain abates. There is a cyclone on the eastern coast of the country, and Varanasi is experiencing the tail end of it.

More details later once I get back to Woodstock!

Wander!

From the Aitareya Brahmana, spoken by the god Indra (gendered nouns have been changed):

There is no happiness for she who does not travel [, Rohica]! Thus we have heard. Living in the society of  humanity, the best woman becomes a sinner...Therefore, wander!

The feet of the wanderer are like the flower, her soul is growing and reaping the fruit; and all her sins are destroyed by her fatigues in wandering. Therefore, wander!

The fortune of she who is sitting, sits; it rises when she rises; it sleeps when she sleeps; it moves when she moves. Therefore, wander!

Happy Activity Week and Quarter Break, everyone.

Happy Birthday, Gandhiji!

Today, October 2nd, is a major Indian holiday. It's Gandhi Jayanti, or the Birthday of Gandhiji! Some of you may know that "ji" is a term attached to names or greetings to express respect and fondness for the person you're referring to. In India, it is rare that anyone would talk about Gandhi without adding the "ji" to the end.

Gandhiji was a freedom fighter in the battle for Indian independence in the early 20th century. Originally a lawyer, Mohandas Gandhi advocated for non-violent protest an resistance, and was a preeminent Indian nationalist before the country's independence. He has inspired countless civil rights and freedom movements around the world.

October 2nd marks a national holiday in India, and Woodstock had a day off school as a result! The timing of this holiday was perfect, as we hadn't had a break for at least a month, and we're all gearing up to go on our Activity Week trips. I'm going on a trek to Changsheel Pass with a group of 10th graders, so today was the day for checking out packs and other supplies, learning how to set up tents, pack properly, keep ourselves clean on the five-day trek, and generally preparing for the coming week. (You can find an account of the same trek from Activity Week 2010 here:
 http://nanonkka.blogspot.in/2010/10/activity-week-2010-changsheel-trek.html)

I'm really excited, but some of the students are less than enthused, especially since they apparently have an English assignment to complete while on the trek. From what I understand, it's a lot of journaling and it shouldn't be hard, but any mention of homework sends the students into the depths of depression. I haven't seen the snowcaps of the Himalaya yet, although they're supposedly visible from where we live, so I'm excited to get to a higher vantage point (around 12,000 feet), see some mountains and have a snowball fight! Many of the students have never seen snow, so this is going to be great!

This will probably be my final blog post until late October, so let me lay out my schedule:

October 6-12: Activity Week trek to Changsheel Pass
October 13-19: Quarter Break! I'm taking a short trip to Varanasi, staying at the Old Yogi Lodge (apparently you have to be neither old nor a yogi to take up residence there). I'll be traveling by train both ways and spending time soaking up the history and the spirituality of one of the oldest cities in India.

See you on the far side of October! Happy Gandhi Jayanti!