If hair could be happy

If hair could be happy each of my stands would be gleaming with shine. When I first got to India I had heard of this concept called hair fall. What is that you ask? Well ask pantene, fructis or dove. It when you hair cuticuls get damaged and you hair becomes lack-luster, thin, and falls out. My once healthy long blonde hair is now a tuft of straw with a crown of frizz where the weak strands have broken under pressure.

So why is my hair so happy? Because I am going home soon and even a week away from the Indian air and water polution is a reprieve from the daily torment.

Beyond my hair, my friend once told me that living each day in Mumbai is equivilant to smoking 20 ciggarettes a day so might as well take up the habit and at least benifit from the nicotine high. Just one year here has seriously taken a toll on my body, my skin, my lungs and my hair. I only hope that it all goes back to normal when the polution showdown is over.

Bangalore oh Bangalore

I was finally able to make it down to Bangalore. It is the home of my great roomate Saabira and my company's beautiful office. I had heard a few stories about this place and I had to see it to believe it.

In Bangalore it is illegal to dance. That it right, you read it correctly. Illigal to shake those hips and drop it like it's hot. My friend once said that he forgot where he was and having a few drinks in him starting tapping his toes and shaking his leg. Sure enough a few minutes later he felt a tap on the sholder only to turn and see a bouncer tellin him to stop.

Apparantly back in-the-day Bangalore used to be the king of party towns and there were major issues with drinking and driving and drug abuse so the state cracked down. They enforced an 11:30 curfew and stopped the youth from boogeying late into the night. Now instead of being out at a bar meeting others and mingling in a socially acceptable manner the rules have cause people to go out earlier, binge for a few hours before getting into their cars to meet at the house of a hosting friend only to consume more alchohol than they would have in the begining and causing potentially more danger on the roads. Smart move Govn't.

Now on top of those two restrictions the state is debating whether to make the consumption and sale if beef illegal. Although up north it is rarely seen on menus it is by religious choice and not goverend by the state.

As one of my Bangalore born and raised friends put it so nicely, "There is already no dancing, if this beef thing gets passed I am never coming back."

Hummers in LA

Today I was walking through the colabra markets in Mumbai with Shannon and her driver Mohammed The section of the market that we were in was filled with antiques. There were stalls and tents filled with clocks, saxaphones and old bollywood posters. Strolling would be a peaceful exaggeration as we played frogger in the streets with the black and yellow taxis, man pulled carts and dead/discusting things in the road. Then it hit 2:00 and the rain came pouring down. We ducked for cover under a blue tarped stall where there was a seafoam green old Chrysler p
Plymouth car parked halfway under the makeshift roof. I leaned on it for pictures posing awkwardly to keep protected from the storm.

As I was treating the car like my property all I could think about was the reaction of one of my Indian staff members when I asked her how her trip to NY and Orlando was. "oh my god, Americans care souch about their cars! I was really tired one day so I stopped to take a break so I leaned on a car and this guy comes running out of the shop yelling at me to get of his car..." I briefly looked around me at all of the dings and broken bumpers and laughed. Indians buy cars knowing they will be driving through Delhi or Mumbai traffic, never inbetween the lines if they are even painted and will be parked on the street. They could never fully understand the protective nature over a car as we do in the states. They would just be happy that thier mirror is still attached from the night before.

Is it strange...

That I don't burn in Delhi?

I guess it is not when you think about the layer of pollution that is hovering overhead. I never use sunscreen except on my face. Since I have formed this bad habit, when I travel outside of delhi I forget to apply and fry.

Lesson learned...? Hopefully.

Friends in the City

Sarah and Travis came to Delhi to explore the city for two days as a reprieve from the rainy Goan beaches and and getting accustomed back to Civilization after spending two months in the beautiful little village of Jarang where I was a couple months ago working on the school. Travis was the architect and designer while Sarah patiently photographed and showed each woman, man and child each picture after the click.

I absolutely love showing people around Delhi. I know that these two would have no problem finding their way through the city after being in Jarang, Gorka and Kathmandu, but India can be a harsh place for foreigners and I find it my duty to make sure that each person who comes though what I now consider to be "my city" has a positive and enjoyable experience. It is such a fascinating place and people want to see as much as possible but all of the haggling and begging can wear down even the hardest of minds including those who live here and see it every day.

So I arrange a car, one of my two trusty drivers who I can count on to be friendly, knowledgeable and reliable who also have seat belts, AC and window to keep out the grabbing hands of the street children.

The normal sites that cannot be missed:

• Qutab Minar
• (drink at Magique in the garden of 5 senses or Olive bar & kitchen if the time)
• Lotus Temple
• Dilli Haat Bazaar
• (touristy and overpriced, but great stuff and fun place to haggle without the hassle of hundreds of people)
• Humayan's Tomb
• Drive through Connaught Place (CP) for a view of the colonial impact and financial district
• (if here around lunch go into the
• Presidents House, Parliament and India Gate (drive-by are fine)
• Red Fort
• Bike Rickshaw Ride through the allies of Old Delhi
• Jama Masjid - largest mosque in Asia
• (climb the minaret. It is worth every second of it, unless you are scared of heights or are claustrophobic. The climb is up a tight spiral staircase)
• Sufi Singers in Nizamuddin
• (Only on Thursdays and really intense so be ready for it. Down a small alley, just ask the auto driver to go to the Nizamuddin Karim's Restaurant).
• A ride in an Auto Rickshaw

If you have the time:

• Akshardham
• (across the Yumana - and go early before the school children take over)
• Ghandi Smirti
• Safdarjung's Tomb
• Jantar Mantar
• Lodi Gardens
• (Relax with a drink at the Lodi Restaurant)
• Ruins of Hauz Khas
• (While here eat a Dosa at Navidium or Karelan food at Gun Powder - if you can find it)
• Tapas and Wine at the Aman Hotel
• (usually jazz music in the background on Fridays)
• Sarojini Nagar Market
• (Packed! Best place for clothes - usually you can haggle a dress down to 150 Rs. and a shirt to 50-100 Rs.)

There is so much to see in this great city and this list just scratches the surface. Come prepared with tons of water, a shirt that doesn't show sweat, comfortable shoes and a attitude ready for adventure and you will love it here!

Writers Block

I would love to say that writing my posts comes easily to me, but it really takes a lot of effort, imagination, and the right splash of inspiration. That is why there are so many bursts and lulls. I have so many interesting thoughts that run through my head on a daily basis that I would love to share, but most of the time I find that my inspirations comes while laying in bed late at night trying to fall asleep and too lazy to reach for my computer or while I am swerving traffic in a rickshaw wondering if I am ever going to make it to my desired destination.

Sometimes it is just a quick reflection: On the way to all you can eat sushi and dinner with friends my rickshaw driver got so lost that I was on the road for an extra 30 minutes. I ate enough exhaust, dust, pollution and sweat to fill me up for the night. There goes my appetite.

As the Rains Come Crashing Down

The soothing rain has finally hit Delhi and is here to feed the dry land and cool the air. I am sitting at my desk with my balcony door open listening to the rain crash down on the hundreds of houses below. It is incredibly humid but only 92 degrees; one of the first days that I have not used my AC.

We are lucky that the rain is not destructive as in other areas. I am hoping to see it in full force later this month in Bombay where the monsoons really come crashing down, flooding the streets, sending the rats to higher ground and the people to whatever shelter they can find.

It is refreshing, calming, relaxing, and good for all of the farms that have not had a proper monsoon in three years.

Busy Living

There is so much to post about and in due time I will. During the past two months I was moving around a lot and I was busy living life instead of writing about it, but with the recent turn of events, things have slowed down and I now have nothing but time.

Look forward to the recaps on some of the greatest months of my life.

In the meantime I am going to put on my trusty headlamp head to the bathroom and brush my teeth in the dark due to the power cuts.

Home is Relative

In the last month and a half I have been traveling a lot. I love it, but it makes things a little confusing especially when you are crossing the boarders of not only country lines; but lines of culture, socio-ecomic status, and expected roles. Last month I went to Nepal, to India, to the US, back to India, to China – Shanghai, Beijing and Hong Kong and now back to India once again. I have been a pseudo daughter, a volunteer, an independent businesswoman, a great friend, an organizer, and a protective mother. I have sat on both the floor and at fancy tall tables for dinner. I have done manual labor and been the recipient of someone else’s. I have ridden in cars, buses, planes, boats, rickshaws (auto and cycle) and have crossed streets effortlessly looking both directions.

I thought that China was going to be a culture shock for me, but despite communication, I found it to be clean and organized. Nothing fazed me except the contrasting beauty of the Hong Kong Skyscrapers rising out of the lush green mountains; but that is beside the point. The real point is that I should be experiencing some type of culture shock when traveling but I have not yet. I wake up each morning and before opening my eyes ask myself, “Where am I?” The answer then tells my what my next move should be and what role I should be playing.

For those of you who don’t know yet, my office is closed and where I previously found myself debating whether to extend my stay or not, I have found myself with no choice; having the decision made for me. You are going home. Home…I thought that I was home. I look around my room and I see all of my stuff; my bed, my music, my pictures and the books that I have surrounded myself with. My phone is ringing with friends wondering when I am going to come home. Home…home is where the heart is. When I was home for a wedding I was surrounded by all of my best friends, my family, my boyfriend, my comfort. Home…isn’t that where I grew up and with those that I love. Then why did I feel like my other home was calling me?

Over the past week I have been traveling with a mix of American and Indian students. I was straddling a line of cultures. Two that I know very well but even then I found myself learning about both of them as if they were new. I will continually learn about the Indian culture, just as I now analyze the American culture through a new lense. “Don’t forget that you are American too.” I was told on tour when giving feedback about wardrobe selection.

What does this all mean for me? I find myself questioning this more frequently as my deadline approaches. Is Delhi my home? Or is it just a place that I stayed for a year. When I settle in with my friends and family in Boston will the memories and yearning for the people, the crowds and the intense heat fade? I sure do hope so, because right now I find myself scared of a world without India and I hope that home becomes wherever I find myself next.

Mama for a Week

What a odd feeling. I am sitting on my bed in Shanghai on the Global Citizens tour and I am in the strangest mood. Over the last 48 hours I have picked up 10 Indian students from all across the country led an orientation in Delhi and then maneuvered their naturally slow walking timeline disregarding bodies through the airport multiple times to end up here.

I had 17 year olds – seniors in high school calling me Quinnen Ma’am, and Ms Quinnen. They were asking my permission and trusting my judgment. It is so easy to feel young when I am constantly surrounded by people your my age, but when I look at these almost adults turning to me for guidance and support a protective and motherly instinct came over me and I just felt old.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not insinuating that I am decrepit despite my many cracking bones, bad knees and my desire to sit in a rocking chair in front of a fire with a lap blanket knitting. But there has to come a day when some situation or event makes you stop, look around and really see yourself. This was it for me.

As eye opening as it was, it was also a great feeling. My kids told me on multiple occasions that they noticed and really appreciated how caring and concerned I was for each of them. One of the kids said in his closing presentation that he felt like the group was his family and we the chaperones were his parents. Based on the feedback given from these students, I know that I am going to be a great mom and I am excited for when my kids become teens and I get a chance to wrangle them in. I will know when to use trust and encourage vs. room checks and guilt. Bring on the 16 year olds; babies are boring! :)

You know it is hot when:

• The cold tap scalds you.
• Your laundry goes from drenched to dry in one hour – line dry.
• The sweat that drips down your body dries before it can reach the ground
• The metal hangers in the closet are hot.
• The wind is so hot that it is better to stay still.
• If you have one drink you wake up the next morning with the worst headache
• You find yourself praising the weather gods when it is only 95 degrees.

It is just the beginning…next comes the monsoon, the humidity and the mosquitoes.

Delhi is a hard place to live weather-wise: The winters are too cold. The summers too hot and the monsoon is too humid. When are the good months? October – December. It is like Boston but in reverse.

This is Going to Take a Little Money

I spent the entire day at the French Embassy today. After a day like today I am proud to say that I work with people who are great problem solvers while remaining cool, collected and composed under pressure.

If I haven’t mentioned before Visas are hell for any Indian. It is easier if they have traveled a lot previously, but even if they have been abroad and returned there is no proof that they will return from this new location. They have to prove that they don’t have relatives in the area of visiting, and if they are not allowed to see them on tour unless it is supervised. They have to provide their bank and tax records for the last three years proving that they are not new money and will not try to buy their way out and that they are dutifully invested into their hometown in India.

To set the stage, we have been planning an incredibly complicated tour for a management group that has schools all over the country. Our main contact was sending students from 9 different schools and only 1-6 sutdents per school. Based on our contracts and rules there has to be an adult to accompany each group. This means that for every gateway that a school is flying out of there needs to be one adult to take then. Doesn’t seem like a difficult concept…

Well the Management decided to select a principal from Delhi to lead the students from Bombay, Why, that’s a great question. Hierarchy, favoritism…whatever you want to call it.

So anyway, there was now the teacher and 2 students living near Delhi, applying in Delhi, but flying out with the larger group from Bombay. Due to the strict rules of the embassy and trying to lower our risk of rejection we followed the governments suggestion and filed for the large group first. We were cutting it close with our timelines, but based on past experience it only takes 5-6 working days and we were applying with 8. We would get the visas back with enough time to spare. So we thought.

Mohit brought the applications to the Delhi VFS processing. Normally one of his friends is there and he takes the information and makes sure that it get processed on time. Today, the friend was not there, so he gave it to the recommended person. Mohit called the VFS later that day to ensure the applications were processed. All set. Great. So he called back a few days later to get the receipt to pick up the Passports. Turns out that the applications didn’t get processed until the next day because Mohit didn’t stand over his shoulder.

One day lost. We are now down to 7 working days for processing.

Wednesday I get pulled into the situation…you see Quinnen, there was going to be enough time, but there was a one-day delay and tomorrow is a French holiday…so no one is working. That means that we have exactly 6 working days for the processing. The Visas should be done by tomorrow, but we cannot risk it. If this teacher did not get the visa she would not be able to travel and the 9 students from Bombay would have to cancel, and then without this group there were not enough students to run the tour without taking major loss of money. It was a disaster.

“Quinnen, we need you to go to the French Embassy and get the Visas tomorrow. You can go first thing in the morning. They will let you in because you are an American. We are not allowed to go in at all unless we bribe them because we are Indian.”

I should have known right then and there that this was going to be an adventurous day.

8 am: early morning pick up from my house

9 am: meet Amisha at the French Embassy and get in line

9:30 am: signs of life emerge from inside. There were a lot of conversations in Hindi, people were being rejected left and right. Then I finally got to the door. I spoke fast, confidently, but respectfully, flashed my passport.

9:45 am: I was in the door of the waiting room. They weren’t even going to let Amisha in there until I argued and told them that she had to be able to come and sit down.

10:00 am: Communication is cut, my cell phone is left with the guards as I enter the belly of the beast.

I sat down and felt good that I made it this far. I was going over my gallant fight repeatedly in my head. Watching as this one woman determine people’s fate one after the next. No, Yes, No, No, No, Yes…I wasn’t nervous until I started to look around and see the jittery legs of everyone else.

11:30 am: I am finally called to the counter. I go with the firm but non-threatening approach. I am anxious, but I took a deep breath, “Hi, I am Quinnen from EF Educational Tours. How are you?” Smile. A return smile…great first step. I told her the scenario, handed her the receipt, and passport copies.

“That’s strange, I don’t even see them in our system. Please sit.” Shit! My heart started fluttering again. What was I going to do…everyone was relying on me to make magic happen.

11:50 am: I go back up to the counter. She found the forms. She said that they would be processed by the end of the day. “Really! Thank you so much. Can I come back here and get them from you later?” “No, you will have to go to the VFS. We will send them there.” “Okay, thank you!”

12:00 pm: I was so excited and couldn’t wait to get back out to Amisha and tell her the great news. She tells me that what I didn’t know is that the guard was rejected 3 people in front of me for the same reason, but she said that I spoke so quickly so he could barely understand and then flashed my passport and that is what got us in the door.

1:00 pm: I am back at the office and we are all celebrating…I still didn’t trust it. I told everyone to hold the applause until we had the passports in hands.

3:00 pm: Mohit leaves to the VFS to get there by 4:00 for pick-up

4:15pm: I get pulled into the side office by Amisha who said that Mohit told her that the Visas were never sent. “It’s okay,” I said as calmly as I could. “I will go right now, back to the embassy and get them. She gave me her word that they would be completed today.”

4:30 pm: I quietly slipped out of the office to not make a scene, and drove to the French embassy. I met Mohit there. Again slightly panicked but still with dire hope as we waiting in the line with all of the people who had the one piece of paper that we lacked, stating they could enter.

I get to the front. The same guard as the morning who was smiling with me earlier, denies my access now. Before I can even rebuttal, Mohit is there talking, explaining, pushing, all in Hindi. “He’s got this” I thought. NO. We are still not allowed to go in. We pulled off to the side. “Mohit, if I can just get in there I can get the passports. I really think that they are inside. What now?” “Just stand here for a second.”

The guard comes to the door again. We get rejected again. We pull off to the side once again. He looks at me, “this is going to take a little bit of money.” Just stay here. He disappears around the back to the rear door. He comes back 5 minutes later and said, now see. The guard will come to the door and call you in.

Sure enough, he played it off as nothing happened. “You.” He said pointing to me, they want to see you. I look at Mohit with a huge smile. “It’s all up to you now.” He said…great. Here we go.

I went back into the waiting room where there are about 30 Indians ready allow the same woman to call their fate once again. I sat down amongst them. As they left one by one, I was glad. That meant that there would be less people around when I had to try and work the system. Usually the smaller the audience the better chance you have of getting your way.

As soon as the Visa office walked out, she made eye contact with me and I could tell that she was surprised to see me.

I finally got tot the counter. First question, “Why are you here? I told you to go to the VFS.” “I know, I just came from the VFS and the Passports are not there like you said that they would be this morning.” “Take a seat I will check.”

Heart attack. She goes to check.

I get called back up to the desk. “You are right, they were never sent. I will process them here today.”

Excitement, heart jumping out of my body. I want to call Mohit, but I still don’t trust it until I have them in my hand.

More people go up to the counter and she tells them that actually things cannot be processed in time. Could this happen to me? Again another panic. I am starting to worry of the affect that this is going to have on my racing heart and blood pressure.

5:30 pm: I go up to the counter. I get the three Visas!

5:35 pm: I run out to Mohit and we are jumping like little school kids.

5:40 pm: We pay the guard and thank him. Discretely…

5:45 pm: Mohit calls the office, I call Satya. We make sure that the principal’s driver is still waiting at the office to take her passport. The other two would be shipped through cargo that night and make it to the children in time for their morning flights.

5:50 pm: We are in the car laughing uncontrollably so completely in disbelief that it all worked out.

6:00 pm: We return to the office where everyone has chips and beer waiting for us. This day made me lose hair and damaged my heart, it was exhilarating but I would never want to repeat it again.

J

Thank Goodness for Mohit and Amisha!

Who needs Delhi when I could stay in Meerut

What is in Meerut you ask? A Delhi Public School.

Now that the office is closing down and there is limited staff in the office we have all been helping out trying to finish up whatever work is left. I volunteered to drive 2 hours out of Delhi to conduct a pre-departure meeting at Delhi Public School Meerut.

Although Satya wanted me to have another Indian along, I knew that I could handle it solo. I was excited. I loved talking in front of people; especially the challenge of making a group of Indian parents calm and secure about allowing their kids to travel with EF.

After the meeting I wait for the principal to have some time for me. They are usually extremely busy and so high up on the social ladder that they make you wait until they are ready for you. Well the wait wasn't too long. I went into have and extra expectation setting meeting with her since she was leading the tour. I went through all of the tough/sometimes disappointing disclaimers like if the weather delays your flight and you miss days of tour EF is not responsible... After all of that was over I then transitioned into the more difficult conversation.

"Ma'am, out of respect for you and your school, I wanted to let you know that our board of directors has recently made the decsion to no longer produce Educational Tours our of our Delhi office past June 30th. But please do not worry because EF still has hundreds of thousands of children traveling all across the world and you especially should have no concern because you are going to the US and it is our domestic company in Boston who makes the arrangements just the same as all the American children traveling in the US. But in the meantime, to avoid making the the parents nervous please keep this information between you me and the school. Any questions or concerns?"

"Oh, that is too bad. What are you going to do?"

"Well, I don't know, probably head back to the US and work out of the Boston office. It is sad though because I was looking forward to staying in India a little longer."

"Oh, you were, well I wanted to let you know that the parents and the kids were all just telling me that they were so impressed with you and I saw how you connected with them. You know I am always on the lookout for good people and you could teach our English classes."

"My mom is an English teacher and I know if she heard that she would love that."

"How old are you?"

"27"

Nodding her head pleased, "Great, we need people your age who are creative and young and can bring in fresh ideas to the school. You know that I am fully in charge of making sure that we are staying at the forefront of education and provide that thing that the other schools cannot. We pay really well here..."

This is where I started to get really nervous and was looking for an out...no more polite, complimentary Quinnen...and then the tea and biscuits entered the room. Trapped!

"...and of course all salary is negotiable. I am willing to pay for good people. You could live here in the hostels. And, you know my son just moved out and I commute from Delhi every day. We have extra space."

"I would love to stay in India and all of this sounds so great," I chug my tea and eat a biscuit to not be rude, "but my family really wants me to come home and I am looking forward to going back to Boston. I know my friend Christine is looking for places to work. She is Canadian. Do you have a card? I could get in touch with her for you."

"Yeah, but seriously all you have to do is just send me an email and we can get this whole discussion going."

"Yeah I will def. be in touch but first let's make sure that you are all set up to have an amazing tour. I really apprectiate you taking the time out of your day to meet with me after the meeting, but I have already taken up so much of your time and I don't want to continue to keep you from all of your other important matters, so I should head out. It was a pleasure talking to you."

"Yes, please do be in touch and it was nice meeting you."

"Have a great time in the US."

And I was out the door, in my car and safe...I didn't think that I was going to be able to leave the office without a new job contract in hand. These Indian principals sure do know how to control a room and get what they want in a very nice, polite, strong way so that you feel rude disagreeing. She was an extremely nice principal, but I wondered how much that would have changed once my signature was on a paper and I was hers. I just couldn't see myself living in Meerut.

The Mango Incident

Coming back from a school meeting in Meerut my driver pointed out that we were driving past the Mango Market. I asked him to stop so I could buy a few. There were so many different types and I didn’t know which ones were the best. (side note: Mangoes are India’s national fruit). Luckily my driver RK was there to help. He picked out four ripe ones planning on giving at least one to RK to take home to his family. We get back in the car and he looks back to reverse and in his broken English started saying, “Man Dead.”

Man dead, what I thought?

“Man dead, big accident, man dead.”

I looked back and there was a bus parked in the middle of the road with a motorbike crashed into the back of it. The driver was hanging limp body off the bike backwards as people ran over to him to help escort him away from the site of the crash.

“Man dead, man dead.” RK kept saying…

“Okay, I get it!”

Part of me started feeling really guilty. Was it my presence directly across the street with my blond hair and bright yellow shirt that caused him, like so many others to stare and take his eyes off the road? Am I at fault of am I just being hedonistic? I contemplated this as I tried to shrink away from the self-blame and stop the man dead chanting.

It's Mango Season

A fleshy fruit, eaten ripe or used green for pickles etc., of the tree Mangifera indica, the mango is one of the most important and widely cultivated fruits of the tropical world. Its juicy fruit is a rich source of Vitamins A, C and D. In India there are over 100 varieties of mangoes, in different sizes, shapes and colours. Mangoes have been cultivated in India from time immemorial. The poet Kalidasa sang its praises. Alexander savoured its taste, as did the Chinese pilgrim Hieun Tsang. Mughal emperor Akbar planted 100,000 mango trees in Darbhanga, Bihar at a place now known as Lakhi Bagh.

http://india.gov.in/knowindia/national_fruit.php

I am Rani

For one week in the village of Jarang I was known as Rani translated from Nepali to Queen.

The treacherous road on the way to the village. Currently stuck and repairing.

Carie, Quinnen and Aileen at our Welcome ceremony

The Village people gathered to meet the new Volunteers

My Aamaa dressed ready for a celebration

The typical scene for dinner minus the light from my flash

The build site with the Himalayas in the background

the morning hello on the way to the site.

Filling water jugs for her house. The basket attached to a strap that is rested on the head for carrying

The neighboring village with the Himalayas

Namastay!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=429128&id=721045331&l=ff68a59efd

The magic is in the simplicity

We are in an age where we are bombarded with cell phones, calls, SMS, iPods, billboards, movies, TV, friends – distractions. Everything is posted and you get instantaneous responses and satisfaction. I am well involved in the craze and very much enjoy it. The first thing that I do when I get home from a night out is to connect on Facebook. I blog, I follow tweets, I dig, stumble, I am linked in. It is all great, but it is hard to detach. It is hard to pull yourself away from the updates and the notifications.

I think that is why my time spent in the rural village a Jarang a 5 hour jeep ride/hike from the nearest town Gorka was so impactful and the memories, smiles, sweat, hugs, and tears will stay with me for a long time to come.

It is impossible to summarize my time there, and journaling the details of each day won’t do it justice, so I am choosing to focus on the part that I loved the most; the simplicity of the village life. The word of choice is a general overstatement, but so not confuse it with easy or boring because neither of these word come nearly close to describing the feel.

A few from Dharamsala

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=415518&id=721045331&l=68bb7ddede

I am being safe

I am not sure who follows what news, but just in case you get wind of the terror alerts in New Delhi, please know that I am being safe. A lot of the markets listed below are the ones that I go to eat at, but I am sacrificing movies and all social non-house party outings as to avoid the markets and malls for the next two weeks at least. I hope that they delay the release of the movies that I want to see :) Just trying to keep it light here folks...

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/05/01/us-canada-australia-warn-_n_559710.html

http://newdelhi.usembassy.gov/service/india-travel-and-security-info/warden-messages.html

Important Security Update

May 1, 2010

This Warden Message provides updated information related to the April 21, 2010 Warden Message and additional information related to the Travel Alert issued for India on April 16, 2010.

There are increased indications that terrorists are planning imminent attacks in New Delhi. Terrorists have targeted places in the past where U.S. citizens or Westerners are known to congregate or visit. Markets, such as those located in Chandni Chowk, Connaught Place, Greater Kailash, Karol Bagh, Mehrauli, and Sarojini Nagar, can be especially attractive targets for terrorist groups. If you are in an area where unattended packages are spotted, you should immediately exit the area and report the packages to authorities.

Americans traveling or residing in India are strongly encouraged to maintain a high level of vigilance, remain aware of their surroundings, monitor local news reports, and take appropriate steps to bolster their personal security.

Fun fact: Addresses in India

Ha ha ha ha!

I don't know why this was the topic, but it came up on my company's blog and it made me smile. Hope you enjoy!

Fun fact: Addresses in India