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. 

Say What?

I've been trying to learn a few encouraging  phrases in Marati to use with the younger kids with whom I do theatre in the Dharavi slum who don't English or Hindi. 

Today, however, I thought I'd use one to thank the workmen at my school after a long and complicated set up for my upcoming show. 

"Good job," I thought I said in Marati. They all froze. I said it again. They looked at each other. So once more I said it and the head of the team looked at me funny. My theatre assistant finally asked me what I was trying to say and I said, 'good job' - in English this time. 

Her translation was followed by stifled laughter and hidden smiles, so I asked why; what had I been saying?

"I'll stab you."

Brilliant!

Mumbai is a city of 20+ million people. The city itself is built on seven small islands and the 'reclaimed' land that now joins them together. Basically, all the trash produced by Mumbai's residents is thrown into waterways to fill it up to create 'land'. They've been doing it for centuries, but it doesn't really make for a 'green' city. 

Mumbai is crowded, cramped, polluted, and completely urban. Or so one would think. But in a northern suburb of the city, you'll find Bhavan's Nature and Adventure Center. A domestic and wild animal rescue center; an agricultural study center; an alternative energy information center; an educational center for students and corporate group with random 'adventure' activities throughout the grounds. 

Every year we take our sixth graders here to kick off our Community and Social Responsibility program. Their focus for the year is caring for animals and nature, so Bhavan's gives them a wonderful introduction. Students are able to take part in various types of plant propagation, worm composting, and  learn the basics of animal care and rehabilitation into the wild, as well as spend time with a knowledgeable guide around the grounds.

It's an unexpected and lovely retreat from the city. 

That Guy...

Everybody hates that guy. 

Packed boarding room. Taking up FIVE seats. 

Somewhere In Between

I usually keep my posts here limited to my own travel, experiences, and reflections, and rarely do I talk about my job, my school, or my students. But I'm going to make an exception.

Our high school theatre students put on a Flash Theatre performance every fall. Flash Theatre is a series of brief one-acts that take place simultaneously in different locations of the school, with the audience moving from one performance to the next over the course of the evening. Some of the performances are cuttings from larger plays; some are one-acts themselves; and some are student written or devised pieces, most often created by our high school International Baccalaureate Theatre students. 

My high school theatre colleague sets high expectations for her students, providing them with a balance of solid skills and creative freedom to explore their ideas. Almost all of our students moved to India from somewhere else. Many of them have moved multiple times to various countries other than their country of origin. They've all been the new kid, had to make new friends, and had to say goodbye to friends leaving or leaving themselves. Many of them are also Third Culture Kids - children whose parents are from two different cultures, living and raising their children in a third.

Although this is not the norm for most of the world, it is all too common among international school students…and it's a common bond between them. This piece, 'Somewhere In Between', was conceived by an IB student and devised with a group of her peers.  It's nothing short of brilliant.

In the Running for the Best Airport in the World

Welcome to Mumbai!

Please walk a mile down the thick carpeted arrival hall, after your 8+ hour flight, to stand in the immigration line where, once you reach the front, you will be sent back to the counter that you were previously instructed to pass by, and fill out the OTHER form not given to you on the flight;

Then wait in the immigration line AGAIN, at which point you'll discover your most current visa extension paper is now missing; but no worries, the agent tells me, 'We don't need it.' Although it's most likely at the first immigration agent's desk, from which you were sent away, you are not permitted to ask him anything. (This is the same scrap of paper I am required to show to board the plane that, incidentally, was not accepted as a legal document by my bank in Greece!)

Then elbow-wrestle other passengers to get your bag, walk another half mile to the taxis, whose drivers stand picking their teeth, watching as you load your own bag into the car then move three carts away (not a single one my own) to unlock and open the passenger side door.

It's a breeze!

Arrived home to find a garland of marigolds hung on the door (for Navrati, not me), and greeted by my landlady, in her house coat of course, insisting on helping me carry my bags up the stairs while pointing out that the guards have 'disappeared'. She's too much!

Home sweet home.