Beautiful Heartbreak

all my loves: from 1st to 10th grade

goofy girls

the image I will forever have of these girls; smiling and lovin life

So the school ended Sat. and I had to say goodbye to the girls that have captured my heart here in India. Not going to lie, it was extremely hard. After coming back from Delhi I spent the rest of my spring break at the orphanage soaking up every last minute with the girls. I conducted a few interviews of the Sisters, and tried to capture the girls on video so that when my memory fails me of the small details, I can forever have them with me. I tried to concentrate every time they said ‘Rebeccakka’ trying desperately to store the ring of their voices deep within my memory. Knowing that within a few days I would probably never again see these girls. Most going back to the slums for 3 months, or shipped off to another orphanage. Only by God’s grace will I ever again see any of these girls again. Isn’t it sad when you say goodbye knowing that it’s not just a ‘see ya later’, but an actual ‘goodbye’? Thankfully I have the hope that one day in Heaven I will see them again--the only thing that kept me from falling to pieces right then and there. They truly have stolen my heart; like the children in Jamaica did, like the babies and Gran Moun in Haiti did, they took it right away.
It made me think…what happens when you lose the pieces of your heart? I’ve lost a piece to Jamaica, a piece to Haiti, and now a piece to India….do those separate pieces continue growing, making you more full of love, or do you lose them and become less of a person? I have to believe that they continue growing, just where you left them, to make you a better person; otherwise I’d be less of a person today because I loved.
Isn’t love the greatest of Gods creations? The ability to love and be loved is the single greatest joy a human can feel here on earth. Better than a feast, or a beautiful sight…I truly love this country, but more than that I loved hearing ‘Rebeccakka’ and receiving kisses and hugs from girls that I loved; to love little children, and to be loved back was deeply satisfying. My trip is not over, but I can confidently say that it has been the single greatest experience of my trip to India thus far…worth every penny of the plane ride, worth every heart-wrenching emotion I felt as I left the ones I loved in the airport, worth all the diarrhea/throw up I’ve experienced here, worth all of it…and more. So it was hard saying bye…more than hard…but once again I'm at a loss for words for how it felt to try and soak up all their love knowing that I would never see them again.
I'm tearing up just writing this becausewhile it’s only been 3 days, I already miss them. But I know God has ended this small chapter in my life so that He can open a new one…so that He can love more people through me…God is making sure that my love in India is not monopolized by just these girls. God has opened up an opportunity for me to go and work at Sishu Bhavan. This is an orphanage for the mentally/physically handicapped children as well as terminally-ill children. I know this will also be a very enriching experience and looking forward to it has helped soothe the sting of saying goodbye to my girls.
Before I said goodbye (they left Sat) I threw them a pizza party Fri! Pizza is my favorite food, and the majority of them had never had pizza! This amazed me and I had to let them in on what they were missing out on. Most of them are too poor to afford such ‘delicacies’ so it was my honor to introduce them to pizza. And let me say it was a hit! I ordered from Pizza Hut and surprisingly I got a realllly good deal on the pizzas. (I don’t believe that this was coincidence at all!) I was expecting to spend a couple hundred bucks on the pizza, and ended up spending less than $100!! How cool!?
I also brought all my clothes that I brought with me from the states (except for 2 skirts, my jeans, 2 tshirts, 2 pjs and all the ‘indian clothes’ that I’ve bought here ) and gave them away to the 10th grade girls. Watching them divide up my clothes and become excited about new clothes (even though they were mostly tshirts and goodwill skirts) def. put a smile on my face. As for the 2 skirts and tshirts that I have kept, I plan on giving those to Punama (the hostel’s cleaning girl) right before I leave…I saved her favorite skirt for her. Now if only I could tap into a ‘deeper self’ and get rid of all my clothes (and materialism)….but I guess one step at a time.
I won’t start work at Sishu Bhavan until next week but in the meantime I will in fact be quite productive…but in a different sense. But that’s reserved for my next blog!
All in all it was a great Spring Break, but extremely bittersweet. Traveling north was great, but saying goodbye to my loves and ultimately a piece of my heart was difficult beyond description. It’s hard to sit here and try to communicate feelings, to fit emotions into the English language when it just doesn’t seem possible. So please excuse me for incommunicable state…perhaps someday you might be blessed enough to feel the same way-maybe by Gods grace you too can feel beautiful heartbreak. That’s what I’ve termed this feeling; the feeling of saying goodbye to a piece of your heart for Gods glory. Knowing that God has broken your heart but in the place of that missing piece He will grow an even bigger piece giving you greater capacity to love. It hurts to have it separated from the whole, but the knowledge that it will grow back even bigger than before is why I continue to place myself in pain.
Beautiful Heartbreak; I hope all of you can feel it someday; just as the term is an oxymoron, so the feeling is contradictory-amazing pain. That is my prayer for all you today, it’s a divine feeling that you’ll never forget and more importantly you’ll never be able to get enough of. It’s the best kind of addiction.

"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." 1Corinthians 13:13
With love, Rebecca Ann

g life

Toilet Horrors; Beware Before Reading

This is a blog dedicated to the random Bathroom atrocities that I probably shouldn’t share with the world, but are necessary to tell my complete story…
So Indians don’t use toilet paper…and I know what your thinking—“….what do they use then?” They use their left hand. I’ve been told by Rekha that this is because of the Hindu god Sariswati (sp?) who is the goddess of knowledge (and inevitably paper.) And well, frankly to wipe your buttocks with a god is, well, kind of disrespectful—the equivalent of using a page right out of the book of Dueteronomy or Psalms or Corinthians (or insert any book of the bible.) This presents an interesting predicament for a Western-raised college girl travelling to India. Thank the Lord that I have a healthy sense of humor in which I can often laugh at myself. (And I hereby give you the permission to laugh at all my quandaries that I am about to present to you in this blog.)

*If you have a weak stomach, or feel uncomfortable with the topic of bathroom issues or want to keep a pristine image of me, please discontinue reading*
__________________________________________________________
So there have been many-a-time where I’ve found myself in a public bathroom with a toilet paper predicament. You see some public places have modernized and do have toilet paper, but many have not. This presents an even greater dilemma when I forget my ‘Emergency Safety Travel Pack’ –what I have termed my package containing: tissues, wet-wipes, anti-disinfectant, feminine products, and stomach medicine. But one learns easily to adapt and adjust to circumstances. The toilets themselves are ‘easternized’ toilets. For those of you who have not the slightest clue what I'm referring to you, I will paint you a picture. An ‘easternized’ toilet basically a hole in the ground in which one relieving themselves squats over. There are ‘foot grips’ on either side of the hole, and well…if the picture is not clear enough I'm sure you can google-image it. Anyways next to the hole in the ground there is a small faucet and pail. The trick is to cup your hand underneath the faucet fill it with water, splash the water on yourself (hope I'm not being too graphic here), and then…well….wipe. In some cases there is a sprayer (which is more convient) but in all cases you use water first then hand second (making sure its ALWAYS the left!)You then use the excess water from the pail to ‘flush’. I’ve found cleaning oneself with the hand is oddly natural. Perhaps much more unsanitary, but in some unexplainable way it feels more in-tune with the body. I say unsanitary because soap is somewhat uncommon in public restrooms (esp. low-grade restaurants/malls.) Which often makes me think when eating food prepared outside; food is prepared with two hands, soap is rare….and well you can think of the rest by yourself. Needless to say my immune system has done an immaculate job of keeping me healthy against the war of germs raging against it daily. Praise God!
Anyways on to the atrocities:
Crisis #1: So the very first time I used the ‘easternized’ toilet I was untrained in the art of squatting and urinating and ended up urinating all over my foot….and I was on a day-outing and unable to properly wash my foot/sandal for the entire day.
Crisis #2: I fell a bit sick after some bad street food and ended up clogging my toilet…and well had no plunger….equipping myself with several (and I mean like 7!) ziplock baggies over my hand I learned how to self-unclog…plumbing business here I come!
These are two of the MANY bathroom quandaries that I have had, and if you got a kick out of these two please feel free to ask me about my several others. I didn’t want to get too graphic of too personal here.
Sorry if this blog was a little much, but I thought it was essential to tell this part of my story as well….a perfect example of how I have had to adjust and adapt to a culture so different from my own.
Another example of this would be cutlery. Indians don’t use silverware and eat with their right hand only (remember what the left is reserved for…) and it has become second nature to me. I am a pro at eating rice and ‘soupy’ items with my hand, and have actually come to prefer it to the use of silverware.
Just two of the many adjustments that I’ve made while being here. I have to say, it’s good to be culturally open to new ways of doing things; some you reject (no toilet paper), but some you accept as even better than what you’ve grown up knowing (eating with hands.)
Again, hope this wasn’t too graphic, and I hope I made my point that adjustment is necessary, but not a ‘necessary evil’.
With love,
Rebecca Bouvin

A Short on Indian Hospitality

from left to right: andrew, uncle, Arthis brother, me, Arthi, Ashu, Arun, Aunti

me holding Arun

So we went and stayed with Lalit’s family-Ashu (his brother), Arthi (Ashu’s wife), Arun (their 1 yr old son), and Ashu/Lalit’s parents Auntie and Uncle. We stayed with these, well basically strangers, for an entire week. First of all let me just say that Indians have amazing family values. Children usually live with their parents even after they’re married, and there is no social security system in India, because there is no need for one. Parents raise children, and in return those children take in their parents after retirement. So staying with a closely-bonded family was very interesting and kinda awesome to see. Staying with an Indian family was an invaluable experience; and def. completed my experience here in India. Since I didn’t get the chance to stay with a family (like I had originally thought) I was super excited about staying with one finally.
Firstly it amazed me that this family that had never met us before was gracious enough to host us for an entire week. More than that, they were more than willing to pay for all our meals, and even treat us to anything else that we could’ve asked or wanted.
My blanket statement here is that Indian hospitality is incomparable! If Andrew and I didn’t eat at least 3 helpings of any meal it was automatically assumed that we didn’t care for the food—needless to say there were many nights I went to bed with a stomach so full it could’ve burst. And then when they thought that we didn’t like the food they would automatically ask if they could order us a second dinner of pizza! It truly amazed me that Andrew and I were not only warmly accepted by this family, but revered! They went out of their way to provide us with a comfortable stay—providing toilet paper, American food, etc. etc. At one point we went to the mall and they offered to buy me clothes!
While the experience was amazing, and I LOVED the family I have to say I'm glad that I am staying in a hostel. But I only say this because I am so independent and would hate to have people fret over me all the time. I also felt like we were a burden (not because the family made us feel this way) but because of how much trouble they went to, to make sure that we were comfortable. They treated us as family and I'm sure that if I lived with a family in Bangalore it would be much of a similar experience; one where it would feel like living with my parents (love you guys, but can’t stand a curfew!)
I am extremely grateful for everything they did for us, and they for sure were my favorite part of Spring Break in Delhi. Def. made me ache for my family back home (it’s funny that the only few times that I've been homesick it’s because I'm around a family.)
Anyways just wanted to let you know mom and dad, that I love and miss you very much! Can’t wait to see you at the airport in a few months, give you great big hugs (probably crying) and be fussed over by people who I won’t feel like I'm being a burden on!
Mom-love you to the moon and back!
Dad-love you more than puppies and sunshine!
Love, Rebecca Ann

ps. since I havn't mentioned before: remember how my hair turned pink from Holi? I was forced to dye it dark brown--just an unrelated update

Absconding to the North

in front of the fort

The arc of India

TAJ MAHAL!

Gandhi's Ashram

I LOATHE bike Rickshaws!

So Wednesday Andrew and I left at 4am to catch our 6am flight to New Delhi. We stayed with Lalits family (Andrews roommate) which I’ll come back to in another blog. Anyways, all day Tuesday we did the whole New Delhi tourist thing and went and saw all the sights that New Dehli has to offer tourists. Such sights included the arc of India (comparable to Arc’D’Triumph), Gandhi’s Ashram, the place where the senate, and the president preside, the Red Fort (a palace-turned-fort) and a giant mosque (that was beautiful ) in which we weren’t allowed to enter without first shelling out big bucks for no apparent reason (and in which I would’ve had to wear a large frock because I was wearing jeans and a tshirt and was not ‘modest’ enough.) I think it goes without saying that we skipped going inside and just admired from the outside. We took a ride on a bike-rickshaw, def. a new (and unenjoyable experience) I think I almost died about 4 times in little less than a mile ride. And then our ‘driver’ tried to rip us off (unsuccessfully) and I decided that I hate bike rickshaws.
Of all the Delhi sights that we saw Gandhi’s place was def. my favorite- it was a beautiful park with green grass, and not a spot of trash to be seen—something I haven’t seen since I left Kentucky. It was a few acres of rolling hills and it really was a small glimpse of home. But more than that it was where Gandhi-a world inspiration (and what has become a personal inspiration,) has his legacy preserved and revered. If you don’t know much about Gandhi, I highly suggest researching him; his life was incredible and if I could only capture a fraction of his passion and self discipline in my own life I would by far be a better person.
Thursday was the BIG day—AGRA! What I’ve been waiting for since first planning my trip to India. The Taj Mahal. We left Delhi at 4:30 am and took our 1st train ride. It was amazing to watch rural India pass by my window as the sun was rising. *Interesting Side Note* We passed several people from the slums just squatting in the grass as we were on the train. It didn’t take long before I realized that these people were in fact defecating! In the open, seemingly unashamed! Squatting, just watching the trains, people in the train watching them, pass by. I may have even made eye contact with some of them! I guess when your raised under such circumstances it doesn’t faze you, but it still amazed me!* We reached Agra around 9am and headed to the Taj Mahal. We took a camel cart to the Taj and you couldn’t see the Taj until you walked through the fort gate in front of the Taj. My first glimpse literally took my breath away. It was shimmering in the morning sun and reflections of the Taj in the many surrounding pools only seemed to magnify the glinting effect. We did all the tourist picture things, but WOW! I don’t think its possible to accurately capture with just a mere camera….one of those things that you just had to be there for it. There are few times in my life when I can truly say that ‘you just had to be there.’ Once being in Jamaica when we climbed the falls, once being the sunset over the beach at Goa, once seeing the aftermath of an ice storm in Lexington, once seeing a rainbow over the hills of Haiti, and the Taj Mahal. Now if you notice the rest of those are all natural, God-made wonders, this is the first man-made wonder to make me think ‘WOW’. It was built in such a way that it looks identical from all four sides-symmetrical.
Facts:
· It took 22 yrs to build
· the 4 pillars surrounding the Taj lean 2km away from the structure in case they were to ever fall they wont damage the structure
· the Maharaja that built it was going to build a black one for himself across the river, adjoin the 2 together with a white/black/silver bridge but did not because his 14 children all fought with one another and killed each other and eventually his only remaining son had him placed under house arrest
· the Taj was built out of love and devotion of the king to his wife
· the king had the hands cut off and the eyes gauged out of the architect so he could never create anything better
· Taj=Crown Mahal=Palace
It was gorgeous to say the least. From the glinting white marble, to the colorful stone inlay depicting heartbreak and love and beauty, it left no question in my mind why its considered one of the worlds 7 wonders.
I had a fleeting thought, but quite a monumental one. Why do we praise and admire such a giant (beautiful) man-made building, but often dismiss the much more complex and much more beautiful natural beauty that DAILY surrounds us. The flowers, trees, waterfalls, rain, sun, and even the human body. Why is the Taj Mahal revered yet a simple rose dismissed? I understand the significance behind the praise of the Taj—it’s a celebration of mans creativity, and ability, (and esp given the reason behind the building was motivated by Gods best creation-LOVE,) but I couldn’t help but wonder how God feels about our adoration of the man-made things over His creation. You would think he would just get tired of it and say “fine, if you like man made things better, than I’ll stop making the sun and the rain, and every other amazing thing that you take for granted.” Thankfully we have such an amazing and loving God that he doesn’t get fed up with us.
It also occurred to me that the architect is like God in a way….very few can recall the name of the architect, and when I looked at the Taj I didn’t think “O man, the architect is amazing”, no I thought about the creation completely dismissing the creator. The Taj is adored by many, known by most, yet how many can actually name the architect? How unfortunate for that architect! How much more unfortunate for God!?! His creation worshipped, yet the creator forgotten. Sad when you think about it.
Like I said, fleeting thoughts, but highly monumental and when first digested can provoke a lot more meaningful thoughts. After the Taj we went to another palace-turned-fort and learned about it’s history. Our tour guide obviously knew that tourists love having their picture taken, so he pretty much gave Andrew and I a photo shoot. He constantly would pose us in positions, and never for a second made us feel bad for wanting to stop and take a picture. It was good to have him as a tour guide because I know have over 300 pictures from one day trip to Agra. After the fort, Andrew and I ate at a 5 star hotel for lunch (which was included in our agra tour fee—we paid $100 for the 2hr train ride round trip, 3 meals, 10 hrs in agra, English speaking tour guide, and a car to drive us around in Agra)—not bad if you ask me. Lunch was amazing-buffet! After lunch we headed to ‘ghost town’ which is an abandoned town about an hour away. Like Agra Fort it wasn’t as interesting as the Taj, but def. worth seeing. Learning the history of these places was def. intriguing and it made me thankful that I didn’t live in India during the times of these palaces because he talked about how these kings had thousands of concubines and basically just degraded women. Praise the Lord that I live in a day and age (and country) where I’m appreciated for my personality, beauty (more from within), and respected for my opinions and beliefs. Next time I get on my soap box about how women are treated as objects I need to remember to be grateful that at least I'm respected as much as I am.
Funnily enough our tour guide was telling me how beautiful I was, but at the same time telling me that I would be more beautiful if I lost about 5-8kg (10-15lbs). He suggested I do this by walking 4 miles a day and drinking one beer every night before bed. Frankly he was slightly crazy. I love how blunt Indians are though; he did not mean to be mean or harsh in the slightest, in fact just the opposite—he was trying to help me become what he thought as my best. Thankfully I have overcome trying to fit inside the worlds perceptions of beauty, otherwise his comments may have actually hurt.
We headed back after a long day, both Andrew and I slept on the train ride home and were puckered out.
We ended up spending the rest of the week in Delhi just chilling, hanging out with Ashu (Lalits brother) and the family (Ashu, his wife Arthi, their son Arun, and Ashus parents-known to me as auntie and uncle.) By the way in India anyone who is elder to you and not as formal as Mr. and Mrs. you call Auntie and Uncle. We also went to the Gandhi museum and the place of Gandhi’s assassination which moved me quite a bit. Again, if you don’t know much about Gandhi I HIGHLY encourage you to do some research—I'm a little sad that they don’t teach more about Gandhi in American schools—if I ever became dictator of America I force that change. Hahah I hope you caught the irony of that statement—Gandhi was against dictators and violence.
Anyways as always I miss and love you all dearly!
Love, Rebecca Ann

my written witness

a child sitting outside his house in which there is only a blanket as a door

inside Mary's house

Im tempted to just shut down and not write about what I've witnessed. But to do so would be defeating part of the purpose of my trip to India. You see my purpose here in India is in several parts: 1.to love others 2.to learn about a culture and a people to better equip myself for a possible future here serving the needs of these people 3.to tell my story-to witness to both the absolutly beautiful things I've seen here, to the tremendously terrible things that I've seen. To empower others with an account of what the world is like outside their small comfortable American lives. To tell others not only of how BIG the world is, but to atest to how devestated it is as well. So to give into the temptation to just shut down would not only defeat part of my purpose here, but also rob everyone who is reading this of something invalueable; wisdom.

I feel so defeated today, at such a loss for words. This morning Sister Vincy took me to the slums where most of the girls from boarding are from. Their homes. I looked up the word 'home' in the dictionary and this is what I found: home/hoʊm/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [hohm] noun: any place of residence or refuge. This then led me to look up the word refuge: ref⋅uge/ˈrɛfyudʒ/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [ref-yooj] Show IPA noun, verb, -uged, -ug⋅ing. –noun
1.shelter or protection from danger, trouble, etc.: to take refuge from a storm.
2.a place of shelter, protection, or safety.
3.anything to which one has recourse for aid, relief, or escape.

To me this seems quite accurate. I'm having a blast here in India, but I know that I always have a home to go to after my time here is done. A place to come and be loved, a place that represents family, hamony, peace, safety, and comfort. Im sure upon returning home I will take refuge to allow my body to recouperate from jetlag, and culture shock, among other things. I will take refuge in my home with my family to absorb everything.

I went on Sunday to the slums, but today I really had my eyes opened. Sunday was just a walk through...there were really no faces to put with the houses...they were just buildings (well shacks) and although in the back of my mind I knew there were where people lived it was easier to dismiss that fact and live in oblivion. But today? Well today I put faces with these buildings; I saw the conditions of these people, how they lived, and acctually looked into their eyes. Whats more, these were the homes of the girls that I've been with for the past two months that I have come to love and care about deeply. So not only were there faces, but also names, gigggles, and memories behind these conditions that I saw today. There was the knowledge that the girls that I love so much call these....slums home. They seek refuge-safety-in such an unsafe place. The very first word that came to my mind today as we entered into the slums was filth. Garbage everywhere, animal feces everywhere, the smell of rotten food, burning trash, vinegar, human waste, and soured milk stung my nostrils. It was like a cloud that hovered in the air; there was no escaping the smell. But besides the smell there was the sights: garbage, cow dung, dog waste, among other things just littered almost every area of the ground, and what wasn't covered by waste was mud. Rags hanging on clothes lines cluttered the air which gave a sense of messiness, and only seemed to add to the devestation. Then there were the sounds...dogs barking, babies crying, moaning, whimpering, and ironically tvs playing. Although most of these people are starving I was told that almost every house in the slums has a TV....they jepordize starvation in order to have a tv...which completly blew my mind. Sister Vincey was saying that since they are uneducated it is hard to tell them how to properly spend, save, and use the little amount of resources that they do have. As we were walking into the slums I saw a large crowd forming and heard some voices raising. Sister Vincey then informed me that we were passing a rationing of rice and people were yelling at one another to get ahead in line. One meal for an entire family. Rice. Arguing over a bowl of rice. But its so much more than that...arguing over sustanance. I can't blame the mother with 7 children arguing for a bowl of rice in which she plans to feed her children....not having to hear the cries of my hungry children would also motivate me to argue. After we passed that we winded our way through a maze of small, one-roomed shacks with tin roofs, through the filth, and clutter. Once again I was not permitted to take photos because it is considered rude (which makes sense, to switch places and have others oggle me and take photos of my desperate conditions would also offend me.) Sister Vincey showed me 3 of the girls homes, and we finally came across the last one in which she had planned to show me. This was little Mary's home. Mary is one of 6 children, she herself is 6, has 2 younger brothers, and 3 older brothers. All except the eldest are in some sort of school (and also in boarding like Mary.) Her eldest brother was at home and when we entered the house he was crying and sweating. Sister Vincey then talked to her 16 year old brother asking what was wrong. He was very sick. Sister and I walked to the nearest store to pick him up some lunch, medicine, and juice. As we walked she explained that Mary's father died a few years ago, and the eldest brother could not be schooled because he needed to care for the rest of his siblings, as well as his mother. He is a 16 year old boy-a child and is working more than full time as a painter. We picked up these essentials for this boy and came back. We were invited in and here is my testiment to what the inside of these shacks look like: it was maybe a 8X10 room in which there was one bed (metal frame with the thinnest matress I think I have ever seen (thinner than the cushions placed on the rocking chairs at Cracker Barrel) and the mattress (if you can call it that...) was covered in plastic-no blankets, sheets, nothing. A few pictures of Jesus and one of their deceased father adorned the walls, a small pot in one corner used for cooking, and a dresser (?) in the other. The dresser was completly covered in clutter of dishware, and what I would plainly call junk (I say that I would call it junk, but these things are this family's valueables.) The few minutes I was in this 'house' I was completly soaked in sweat....needless to say I know it would be miserable to live there, not to mention being sick there. There was no bathroom, no sinks, nothing. There is about 1 or 2 public bathrooms in which everyone commutes to and one well for everyone to gather their water for bathing. I still have no idea what they do for drinking water...surely they don't drink the murky water that I saw in the well. I thought sharing a bathroom with a floor of girls in a dorm got crowded at times....I cannot even conceive how these people share with several hundred others. Despite the conditions there are worse things about the slums....what goes on in these slums is several times more heartbreaking than just the conditions themselves. Sister Vincey was explaining that most of the girls in the slums are taken advantage of as young children...she pointed to what was probablly a 3 year old baby, and said from that age these girls were misused. Refuge: a place of safety. What happens when your place of safety becomes the place of most horror? What happens when your 'home' cannot be defined as such? When home is acctually defined as 'terror, desperation, ugliness, filth, and desitution." What happens when your 'safe harbor' is acctually your apex of exploitation? How does life even go on after that? How do you find the courage to smile, much less find joy again?

As I looked at the babies walking around completly naked in the mud and grime, the woman pleading for food for her children, the 16yr old boy crying because he was so sick and weak and unable to afford medicine, I couldn't help but think of the lyrics from a Chris Rice song:

"How did I find myself in a better place,

I can’t look down on the frown on the other guy’s face

‘Cause when I stoop down low, look him square in the eye I get a funny feeling,
I just might be dealing With the face of Christ

See you had no choice which day you would be born

Or the color of your skin, or what planet you’d be on

Would your mind be strong, would your eyes be blue or brown

Whether daddy would be rich, or if momma stuck around at all

So if you find yourself in a better place

You can’t look down on the frown on the other guy’s face

You gotta stoop down low, look him square in the eye

And get a funny feeling, ‘cause you might be dealing with the face of Christ..."

A Holi War (3.12.09.)

the group-aftermath

the beginings of the war

after the drive-by incident

So yesterday was Holi- a Hindu religious harvest festival. Its to celebrate spring, and it’s the festival of colors. So as I was walking to the orphanage to work 2 guys on a motorcycle said “HEY!” and threw purple powder on me. At the orphanage I cleaned up and after work Andrew and I planned to meet for coffee and then just play Holi by ourselves. On my way I saw a group of college people standing around completely covered. Thinking it would make a good culture picture I stopped and asked the group if I could take their picture. They said yes, but under 1 condition: they got to put powder on me. I agreed and got my picture with them. They then invited me to one of their houses where they were gonna have a full-out Holi war (complete with color/eggs/water) Andrew came and met us and it was a blast! Color, eggs, water completely covered me! They were a pretty cool group of people and it was fun to get to know them by smashing egg on their heads. Fun fact: during Holi there is a popular drink called Bhang. Its widely consumed by families and it is a buttermilk drink that contains Opium. Its only legal on this one holiday. The group said they tried to get some, but couldn’t find any. Anyways after 3 days and 7 showers I still have bright pink hair. Thankfully most of the color has worn off my face and body, but Im not sure what to do about my hair! I may go to a salon tomorrow to see what can be done! But nonetheless it was totally worth it to celebrate! It was def. memorable!So yesterday was Holi- a Hindu religious harvest festival. Its to celebrate spring, and it’s the festival of colors. So as I was walking to the orphanage to work 2 guys on a motorcycle said “HEY!” and threw purple powder on me. At the orphanage I cleaned up and after work Andrew and I planned to meet for coffee and then just play Holi by ourselves. On my way I saw a group of college people standing around completely covered. Thinking it would make a good culture picture I stopped and asked the group if I could take their picture. They said yes, but under 1 condition: they got to put powder on me. I agreed and got my picture with them. They then invited me to one of their houses where they were gonna have a full-out Holi war (complete with color/eggs/water) Andrew came and met us and it was a blast! Color, eggs, water completely covered me! They were a pretty cool group of people and it was fun to get to know them by smashing egg on their heads. Fun fact: during Holi there is a popular drink called Bhang. Its widely consumed by families and it is a buttermilk drink that contains Opium. Its only legal on this one holiday. The group said they tried to get some, but couldn’t find any. Anyways after 3 days and 7 showers I still have bright pink hair. Thankfully most of the color has worn off my face and body, but Im not sure what to do about my hair! I may go to a salon tomorrow to see what can be done! But nonetheless it was totally worth it to celebrate! It was def. memorable!

Graduation Ceremony: March 8th

performance:dancing

10th standard boarding girls who were graduating! beautiful right?

demon sari is stinkin' hot!

BAH!!! Where do I even begin!?! So this past week has been CRAZY busy! I had a test, and 5 papers due! So needless to say it didn’t leave much time to update this blog or even really keep in touch with anyone back home (my apologies!) I didn’t go volunteer as much this past week because the girls all had testing time (kind of like our standardized state tests) But it was a nice break to kind of reenergize and revamp and prepare for this week and the weeks to come. Because I only worked about 2 hrs a day I also worked on Fri and Sat I went to the girls’ graduation ceremony. The graduation ceremony was pretty neat, here in India you graduate school in 10th grade and all the girls wore purple saris (which was beautiful!) The boarding girls hassled me and hassled me to buy a sari, so I did and let me just say, I have a newfound respect for the women of India who wear saris. Those things have to be the hottest outfits imaginable. Just imagine being in 95 degree weather wearing a huge blanket wrapped around you! Not to mention that they are impossible to manage—I was sure mine would fall down at any moment (the whole thing is held up by only two safety pins; which is incredible if you think about it) But despite the sweltering heat the graduation was a lot of fun! It wasn’t completely different from that of a US graduation, with the principle giving a speech, and the ‘class president’ giving a speech but differed dramatically in the fact that several different performances took place. Several girls did native dances, while others did skits. It was all a very neat experience and Im glad I got to enjoy. I was slightly bummed though because halfway through the ceremony Mrs. Kutty called and requested that I go with her to a women’s day luncheon. She said she would pick me up in 10 minutes and to be ready. And when Mrs. Kutty wants/requests something, you learn that you can’t say no. So I had to leave the ceremony early and wasn’t able to enjoy lunch or get any pictures with the girls after. The luncheon was extremely nice though. We went to a 5 star restaurant and enjoyed a 7 course lunch. Mrs. Kutty was a VIP so we sat in our own private room, me, Mrs. Kutty, her daughter, and her friend who is a famous Indian author. It was very neat to talk to the author about success and other things and see her perspectives on things. Its been extremely interesting to see the different perspectives that people of different classes have on things….talking to the nuns about social issues of India differs DRASTICALLY from what the high class Indians that Ive talked to, and yet still differs from what Rehka (a middle class devout Hindu) has to say about all the social issues. Its been such a great opportunity for me to be exposed to so many different social groups here in India, and I feel like I have been equipped with a well rounded viewpoint on several issues. After the lunch I went over to Andrews and we made grilled cheese and soup for Rehka and Kanan (our dance teacher and her husband) and played Apples to Apples with them (which I quickly came to realize that the game is directed towards Americans, seeing as how Rehka and Kanan hardly knew what any of the cards were…which actually turned out to be much more hilarious.) Then Sunday I went to church in the morning and out to Opus (a kareokee club) at night for Neha’s bday. In celebration of Womens Day they were only allowing men to sing songs that were by women (men were singing ‘its raining men’ and the like, which was pretty funny.) Overall a chill weekend but def. a good one.

A Weekend in Mysore and Coorg

Church where St. Philemon's bones are

BEAUTIFUL Golden Temple: Buddhist temple

Mysore Palace

Gopal and I at one of the hindu temples

Ok, sorry its taken me so long, but life always seems to be crazy busy and I always feel one step behind, just trying to catch up. I guess Id rather always feel one step behind then crazy bored because theres nothing to do. So last weekend (2.28&3.1) we went on a school trip to Mysore and Coorg. It was about a 3 hour drive to Mysore and another 2 hours to Coorg. Gopal came and picked us up at 6am on Sat. and we headed out. I slept most of the car ride (waking up with the worst crick in my neck!) and our first stop was a sugar factory. It was pretty neat because there was piles upon piles of discarded sugar cane shells. We walked up to the factory and there were underground pots filled with an orange bubling liquid (which we were told was the sugar fermenting) Next to the pots was a man mixing the concealed sugar goo with a broom type thing…its pretty hard to describe, but very interesting. Our next stop was a beautiful Hindu temple. It was thousands of years old and mind boggling…I say mind boggling because of how vast this temple was, made of pure marble and we were told that the marble slabs were solidly one pieces (which meant that 500 men together carried these slabs miles to the site of the temple to build it) It certainly was something else! After that temple we headed for breakfast where I ordered my fav-Masala Dohsa! After lunch we went up the mountains to the very top to another temple situated at the very peak. This temple was also fascinating, and we went inside and Gopal ushered us up to the fire-blessing and whiffed the smoke in first my face, then Andrews…I asked later what he had done that for and he said he was blessing us with health and wealth. He also put some red powder on our foreheads (kind of like a Bindi) and he said that this was like the Catholicism version of ash. After that temple, we headed to the Mysore Palace. The Mysore palace was one of my favorite parts of the trip! It reminded me of the Biltmore (my family went this past winter) and it was really interesting to see how vastly different the wealth in west is manifested in architecture and that of the East. They were built around the same time, and I took the walking tour with the headphones (like I had in the Biltmore) just learning about each room. After that we went to the Mysore Zoo. It was a huge zoo and very open. By far my favorite animal is the Tapir—if you don’t know what it is I suggest you look it up on youtube….its probably the most hilarious animal ever! At one point it peed, and man that thing was like a rocket! Thought urine was gonna shoot out 30 ft and hit me! I couldn’t stop laughing for about 30 minutes after that. After the zoo we went to a really famous cathedral where the bones of St. Philemon are (Philemon from the bible) and that was really awesome! We then headed the 2 hours to Coorg where a homestay was arranged for us.
Let me just say I LOVED the homestay. It was a very liberal muslim family that pretty much fell in love with me. They have 2 daughters of their own, but both are married and moved away….they missed them a lot and I think I was the next best thing. I thought that they were gonna kidnap me at one point lol. They pleaded for me to come back again, and welcomed me to stay with them anytime. Im not gonna lie, it made me a bit homesick for my parents, but it was nice to have a family for a night.
The next day we went to a coffee plantation where we saw coffee plants, some exotic fruit trees, and some other really interesting vegetation. We then headed to some waterfalls which were beautiful and looked like they would have been a blast to swim in, but we were told that there were a lot of dangerous whirlpools in which people died, so swimming was obviously off limits. After we went to an elephant reservation which was def. not my favorite part at all. There were training grounds for the elephants and we basically witnessed the torture of those poor creatures. They were whipping, stabbing, and hitting the elephants with tree branches as the elephants literally cried out in pain. It def. opened up my eyes to the cruelty to animals. After the elephant reservation we headed to the Golden Temple which was my favorite part of Coorg—it was a Buddhist temple that was gorgeous! It was ordinately decorated in gold and deep reds and blues, with very asian looking architecture and art. After witnessing a Buddhist prayer session (which was extremely interesting, it was just a bunch of bald guys wearing red and gold robes chanting) we left for Mysore. Once in Mysore we went to a botanical garden and when it got dark we watched a water fountain show in which lights, a waterfoutains danced with some Hindi music. It kind of reminded me of the Stone Mountain laser show in Atlanta GA. We finally reached Bangalore around 11:30 and I was EXHASUTED! I feel fast asleep still trying to process everything I’d seen throughout the entire weekend.