And This Is Why Everyone Should Be Trained

At the salon, a woman having her full head colored just had a stroke...or a diabetic sugar drop. 

Feigned calm by the staff. Gave her a rinse, a sugar cube, called her son. No ambulance. No one has any first aid training. 

Your Medium is My Hot

The cafeteria guys at my school are awesome. I went down late for lunch so only the Indian option was left, which is usually pretty good, but often spicy. As I poked my nose over the counter to see what they were serving, they quickly rushed over and told me the name of everything, chapati, pindi chole, rice, murg something - not that I would recognize it, though.

I usually like the chickpea curries, which they had, the pindi chole, so I asked if it was spicy, which is sometimes is.

"No, no. Not spicy," One said.

"Only medium spicy," Another said.

"Try a bit," another said as he hands me a spoonful over the counter. It was tasty. And then, it was really spicy! It caught the back of my throat and my eyes popped open as I exhaled.

"Oh, spicy for you." They laughed. "Take some rice."

They filled me a plate, which I enjoyed, but my lips were burning for an hour afterwards. 

Not the Sea for Me

It's so strange for me to live by the sea and beyond never going to it, let alone in it, to be completely repulsed by its foul smell and filth. 

Homegrown India

The website, Homegrown, is easily one of my favorite sites about India. Essentially a media and entertainment company, they describe themselves as, "Young India's Route To Their Roots And Beyond."

Based in Mumbai, they present articles on women's safety in India to music festivals; the latest fashion and film to child slavery; and everything in between. They also sponsor events, like the Third Eye Tour, which was the largest gathering of skateboarders in India and toured to several cities in the country. 

For all the backwards, mind-boggling craziness that goes on in India, it's groups and events like this that keep me fascinated…and hopeful. 

Purging Parasites

...because I'm not sharing Thanksgiving with them!

Indian Compliment

My stylist at the salon and I have a fun relationship, always laughing and joking. Today she told me:

"I'm going to pray that in the next life we are sisters."

I take that as a compliment. 

NH 7 Weekender Music Festival

"What are you doing this weekend? Wanna go to a music festival?"

You don't have to ask me twice!

My colleague said he really wanted to go as one of his former students from Delhi was going to playing with his band, but didn't know how he could get there. And since I had a car and love road trips, it seemed like the perfect plan. 

The NH 7 Weekender music festival takes place each year in Pune. (NH 7, we discovered, is the name of the section of national highway where the festival takes place)

Pune is a short 2 hour drive from Mumbai with a lively music scene and is known for being a more relaxed, cooler version of Mumbai.  The Mumbai-Pune Expressway, for the most part, is a six to eight lane highway that's mostly wide open, but congested as you begin climbing the Western Ghats. 

Leaving early Saturday morning, we arrived in Pune long before the festival started at 4pm, so we drove around the city, explored a bit, and found the entire place quite lovely. Wide, well-maintained streets; sidewalks actually used by people; gardens and trees everywhere; roundabouts at intersections to keep traffic moving;  and the people we met were generally polite and quite friendly. Compared to Mumbai - this was paradise!

 The festival itself was held at a large 'lawn' just outside the city, but near a new, planned development from which many people seemed to be walking. There were four stages, stands selling concert gear and artsy things, a large selection of food stalls, and a fun photo opp and activities area for kids and adults alike. It was billed as a 'family event', and some people did bring their kids, but most of the audience were college age or older 'cool' types who just enjoyed the music and the scene. 

By eight o'clock however, it was easy to tell who the 'concert rookies' were as they'd obviously misjudged their alcohol tolerance and were either puking in a corner, passed out in the bushes, or being dragged out of a walk way by their friends. Concerts and 'party culture' as we know it in the West, are quite new in India, and for the most part, the average person has a difficult time walking that fine line between 'partying' and making a hot mess fool of oneself. 

The music was enjoyable, nothing like the first two Lalapalooza's, obviously, but we had a good time. My colleague's former student, however, was hands down the best performance there. His name is Neeraj Arya and his band is called Neeraj Arya's Kabir Cafe.  Kabir is an ancient India poet and saint who was more of a mystic than followed any specific religion.  Neeraj has taken his poems and set them to music in a folk fusion that quite catchy. 

But more than anything - it's Neeraj's voice that makes his band so great. He has a voice that deep and soulful, enchanting even. He sings in Hindi, so I had no idea what he was saying, but there were moments when he'd hold a note and it would take your breath away - literally. On more than one occasion, his voice alone brought me to tears. 

I tried to film it, but of course, had my finger over the mic of my iPhone, and got nothing. This is the best video I could find on YouTube, but he is definitely one of the best performers I've ever seen. Remember his name. 

Escalator Adventures With Losers

The guy who turns around completely to stare at me on the escalator, stick his tongue out, and thrust his crouch at me. 

He ain't got a chance in hell... not even with a dead goat.

That's Right...

Getting on an escalator with a friend who just paused to count the toes of the lady in front of us  - she only had four on one foot.

No big deal. I work with a guy in Dharavi who's got six fingers on each hand.

Incredible India indeed.

Go Government

The Foreigners Regional Registration Office provides the same atmosphere and efficiency as the waiting room in the movie Beetlejuice. 

Walking the Streets

Homegrown is one of my favorite culture sites in India, and this is another example of their high quality content and reporting. Plus, it's an excellently made video - they only needed four hours to capture it all. 

Granted, they walked around some fairly nice neighborhoods, far better than where I lived my first year and a half, and no one tried to grab her. But she's right, they do get into your personal space with unnecessary brushing past and what not. 

Hence, elbows high and slapjack ready when walking, and a hand held mirror to stick in their face when they ogle into your car. 

It's best not to give them the finger (which for some reason is really offensive here) or get to close to tell them off. The love slapping each other here so might as well not take any chances. 

And even if a part of you feels sorry for these men, who obviously lead lives of such repression that they don't know how to behave around the opposite sex, let alone interact, never allow pity to compromise your safety. Better to be a bitch than a statistic.  

Matheran

Spent the week in Matheran, the smallest hill station in India and the only automobile-free hill station in Asia. It's also just a few hours outside of Mumbai making it ideal for the 6th grade class trip. 

There are two ways of reaching Matheran; driving up a narrow road of hair pin turns and then walking the rest of the way up or taking the toy train. You're risking your life either way. 

A little over 2,200 meters above sea level, it was 'discovered' and began to be developed as a retreat to 'beat the summer heat' in the 1850's. There are no cars or motorized vehicles in Matheran, so everything must come up the mountain either by foot, horse, or pack animal. 

Charlotte Lake, built in 1850, serves as the reservoir for the entire  hill station.

Our days were filled with 'adventure' activities and cultural visits for the kids, and lots and lots of hiking. There are many, many look out points with panoramic view of the Western Ghats.



 

It is, however, quite overrun with Reese monkeys who not only 'entertain' the tourists, but also harass them incessantly having learned we carry food and shiny objects. Our hotel even had a warning about them in the lobby. One teacher lost a box of lollipops, another had her cell phone taken up a tree. The hotel workers, however, were quite skillful with a slingshot and they all had one in their back pockets!

'MONKEY! MONKEY! MONKEY!' became our frequent warning to one another throughout the week. 

This guy woke me up one morning, shaking the sliding glass door on my balcony trying to break in!

The locals took no notice to safety warnings and thought nothing of littering. 

Overseas Teacher Honest Mistake

Away for a week in a school trip with 6th graders, so I bought candy to share during our before bed activity, which us usually just a quick check-in meeting with the kids.

Candy came in a red wrapper so I thought it was some berry flavor, but it wasn't. It was gross and neither the kids or I liked it. So I gave the rest to the guards at breakfast this morning. They loved it.

Turns out, it was paan flavored. Basically, Indian tabaco. 

Mumbai Side Effect

One of the best results of my moving to India, is that for one reason or another, I'm writing again. For fun. Like I used to. 

Here's the latest…a result of sitting up pouring over the musical I'm directing next. Enjoy.

The moon is nearly full, 


My whiskey glass near empty.


I sit alone, with lead in hand, 


And mark up lines a plenty.

 

The libretto on my table,


a full 500 pages,


is barely halfway noted;


Though I've be working on it for ages.

 

But I'll pour over every line, 


And sway over every note,


Because in the end, what's said and done, 


Must for the show promote.

 

You'll come and watch


Five months from now,


And tell me how cute the kids sang.

 

Though we all know full well,


And we wish you to hell,


As we know it was YOUR mobile that rang.

 

So I'll stop and sing, 


And shed a tear,


Wherever a line might hit me.

 

I'll rise and dance,


And twirl and bow, 


Wherever a moment gets me.

I'll draw out the best
of everyone's child,


And show you the full human condition.

You'll mention again how nice the play was,


Then tell me it's not academic.


You fool, that was never my mission.

Parking Police

Parking spots in Mumbai are hard to come by.  If you have a car in Mumbai, you also want an apartment with a parking spot. Or at the very least, you want to live on a street with ample parking, which can be found on most side streets.

But when you're out and about, most shops in the city don't have customer parking. High end places usually have valet parking, and there are also 'Pay N Park' lots scattered throughout the city, but they are few and far between.

If you have a driver, they drop you off and then park illegally somewhere with other drivers who hang out until the parking police come and tell them to move. If you don't have a driver, and you can't find parking, you park illegally and keep an eye on your car in case the parking police show up.

The parking police, just so you understand, are not really cops. It's more like a battered old tow truck and six scraggly guys who drive around looking for cars and motorcycles to tow. They're fast because they get paid on how many vehicles they bring in, and rumor has it that once they lay a hand on your car, it's theirs. Period. That's the 'rule'.

They basically manhandle every vehicle they get their hands on. You'll see them flying down the street with one poor car dragging behind the tow truck and 10 motorcycles crammed onto the bed. It's quite the site to see them tossing motorcycles up there, too. You have to pay a fine, and a pound fee to get your vehicle back, and generously give you more dents and scratches than you can count.


Today I had my first encounter with them personally. I'd parked illegally in front of another illegally parked car in front of a bank ATM. I put my flashers on and got in line behind a woman also waiting. As she went into the ATM cubicle, the car behind me honked. I spun around to see the gentleman in the passenger seat frantically pointing towards my car. The parking police had pulled their tow truck up in front of my car!

I ran over yelling, 'No! No! No!' just as one of their guys came up from underneath my car. He'd latched on a chain and two other guys were about to hook it onto the bar. I threw myself onto the hood of my car, waving my arms, yelling, and insisting they were not going to take my car.

They started to explain that it was too late, they'd laid their hands on my car so it was theirs. The driver was shouting out the back window at me. Four guys were standing around me trying to convince me to move, and a crowd was gathering.

I crossed my arms and jumped up on my hood, shaking my head, No, and refusing to move. Most of the onlookers were a bit shocked, but there were also quite a few smiles. People everywhere can bond over getting your car towed. It took about 10 minutes, but they finally unlatched my car and left. A few of them were even smiling at me by then.

Guess they figured it was easier to just leave than tow the crazy white woman on top of her car.

Middle School Production of Dracula

Many of you know I teach middle school theatre and that I direct the after school plays. I rarely post anything from school, or of the students, for obvious security reasons. However, my latest show has been posted to the school's Facebook page and as I am so very proud of the hard work my students put in for this show, I'm sharing the link.

This was a challenging show for many reasons. Firstly, it is a psychological thriller that relied heavily on dialog and suspense on stage. Middle schoolers are more comfortable with slapstick comedy, melodrama, or fantasy, so this was tough. Every single cast member was in a role outside of their comfort zone and previous acting experience. As one student put it in rehearsal, 'Ugh, vampires are hard!'

It was also challenging because I had a crew of almost all 6th graders who'd never done theatre but were to be responsible for hair, make-up, and our special effects. This required a lot of extra training time on my part, which isn't usually the case, but was definitely successful.

So I am very, very proud of them. They worked so hard and learned so much and we had three fantastic shows. 

Where the Girls Are

For the most part, my apartment is quiet and peaceful. It's a bungalow, set back from the road behind a building. To reach it you have to walk down the drive to the building, then go through the gate to our patio. The landlady lives on the ground floor and I'm on the first, but since she travels so much, I basically have the place to myself. 

There's also a drive on the opposite side of the building, just under my bedroom that leads to a small garage and the utility boxes for the building. The gate to that driveway is almost always locked unless the older gentlemen who keeps his car is the garage plans to go somewhere, which isn't very often. So it's just a deadened drive. 

During the first few months after I moved in, once or twice when I'd come home after a night out, there'd be some 'women of the night' hanging out on the corner of my block. I was shocked at first to see hookers in India, especially as they were all in western mini skirts and skimpy tops. Once, I saw a very voluptuous and very pale woman in a sari. But I didn't care too much as it didn't really affect me. 

Occasionally the police would linger on my block, and I was told that they were looking for thieves. Directly behind my house is a hindu temple with housing for monks, but also open to the public. The wall that surrounds the temple is shared with my bungalow's patio, and the next two bungalow's back yards, and both those bungalows are rather dilapidated. So thieves have been known to jump the 6 foot wall and escape. 

But normally, it's a very quiet neighborhood. So you can imagine my surprise when I was awoken a few weeks ago to some mumbling under my bedroom window followed by, 'Ouch! Oh my gawd!' in valley girl English. I'd ignored the mumbling thinking it was just the guards changing duty, but the English got me out of bed to have a look. 

And what a sight it was! An Indian guy with his pants around his ankles and another Indian guy dressed in a tight black mini skirt, gold sequin tank top, and a ridiculous wig, slowing getting to her feet. I rapped on the window, then hollered them for them to get outta here, but couldn't decided if I was upset or bemused. 

I figured I'd chalk that up to one more crazy India story, until it happened again a week later. Only this time it was a real woman. But they were fast and I didn't have time to toss a bucket of water on them as planned. 

So you can imagine my surprise when I came home Halloween night to find five cops and a paddy wagon in front of my house. I had just told my friend who had given me a ride home not to be surprised if there was a couple of 'women of ill-repute' on my block, just in case. The cops looked me over real good when I got out of the car - I was dressed like Holly Golightly - most likely not sure if I belonged there or in their paddy wagon!

I pointed to the occupants, then gestured to the cops, and rattled off something about cleaning up the neighborhood and they all smiled and wagged their heads as I strolled down the drive to my bungalow. 

Road Trip!

Mumbai can get crazy when there's a festival…and there seems to be some festival or other every single weekend. But when it's a BIG festival - the whole city goes nuts. Diwali is one of those festivals. 

At its core, Diwali is the celebration of light over darkness, knowledge over ignorance, and love and forgiveness over all. Families come together to share meals, new clothes are bought, and lights are lit in the form of candles or lanterns around the house. It's also full of idiots in the street, drunk, shooting off home made fireworks with no concern for anyone else's safety, let alone their own. 

So, we decided to take this Diwali break and head for the hills outside of Mumbai. We booked ourselves at the Hilton Shillim Estate Retreat and Spa in the Sahyadri mountain range of the Western Ghats. It's an all villa 'hotel' that's just under two years old and only two hours outside of Mumbai. 

I picked up my colleague at 7am and with Google Maps in hand, we were off. That early there is very little traffic so we were out of Mumbai and on the freeway in no time. The first real traffic we encountered was when the road begins to ascend the mountains. Apparently, most of the other drivers had never heard, or mastered, the down shift. Seriously, it was ridiculous - zig zagging around cars and trucks coming to a near halt on the road, in all lanes, rather than down shifting. 

Soon, though, we were off the highway and on the local 'road' to the Hotel Estate. Field of rice patties and wheat for miles, very few people, and gorgeous view were all we saw until we suddenly came upon the gate where we were quickly met by the valet attendant and whisked inside the reception villa. 

Check in was smooth and we were taken to our villa by mini-car. It was lovely, and our stay was lovely, and it was the perfect escape. We walked everywhere we could and barely saw any other people. We did, however see a mongoose!  

Diwali Performance

Diwali is essentially the biggest Hindu holiday of the year celebrating light over darkness, good over evil, knowledge over ignorance. Cities and towns decorate their streets, and families decorate their homes with a variety of light displays. Shops have sales and school have Diwali  celebration events. (If you put religion aside, secularly it's on par with Christmas in the US.)

My school also held a Diwali event with food, hand painting, NGO shops, and students performances by our choir, orchestra, and even a teacher flash mob. In addition this year, we brought a drama performance by students from the Dharavi slum who'd been working with one of our seniors as part of his IB senior project. 

The high school theatre teacher and myself have been coordinating with the NGO Reality Gives and going every Sunday to their community center to work with the kids. They are enthusiastic, energetic, mischievous, delightful, inquisitive, silly, quick to laugh, and lovely - as all children should be. 

They performed on stage for hundreds of parents and students at our school with confidence and afterwards we celebrated with lunch and laughter. So very proud of them and looking forward to continuing making theatre with them. 

Dharavi Rehearsals

Today we had an intense, four-hour rehearsal with our Dharavi students to prepare for their performance at the Diwali celebration at my school next week. They're working on telling a portion of the Ramayana in which Sita is kidnapped, the god Hanuman is called upon to help rescue her, and a battle ensues. 

About an hour into our rehearsals, the electricity went out so we had about two to two and half hours without fans…we were all dripping in sweat as it's been close to 100 F all week. But still, smiles all around. 

Starting our day...

The hut in the forest.

The boy in blue in the center is the student from my school who's made drama in Dharavi his senior project. 

The fallen bird revealing Sita has been kidnapped.

The raging river...

Hanuman to the rescue

The fierce battle.

It's a very long rehearsal for the littlest ones.