Our first week at IICP and we attended a full day workshop, met our students that we would be working one on one with (I will call my student K. to protect her privacy), observed classes, took children and adults for hydrotherapy in the 35 degree hydrotherapy pool and observed the adult vocational training services catering and printing units. We were introduced to all the wonderful staff here and then before we knew it, our first week was over already.
I spend a lot of time with K, my assigned student for this placement. She’s a beautiful nine year old girl with giant doe-like brown eyes. She has spastic quadriplegia – a type of cerebral palsy that often causes the individual to have severely flexed knees, hips and elbows and very little trunk strength. In K’s case she is unable to speak and has only a little voluntary movement of her arms so her ability to communicate is extremely limited. One thing I have observed about K is this pouty willfulness that I kind of admire. She can be difficult at times and it is not always easy to get a smile out of her, but it makes me feel really joyful when she does smile. I look forward to spending more time with her and getting to know her better. I’m not sure what she thinks of me yet. I can’t say anything she understands as I don’t speak Bengali. She spends a lot of time staring at the top of my head – presumably at my big frizzy mop of blonde hair. I must look so strange to her and every once in a while I spout out some bizarre cacaphonic gibberish English at her. She is pretty wary of me and I get a little jealous when she smiles brightly for her teacher (who has dimpled cheeks and speaks softly and lovingly to her in Bengali). One of goals for this placement is earn many of those smiles.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Days 11, 12 & 13 – Goa
We were a little nervous on the way to our Goan hotel as no one seemed to have heard of it, but when we arrived we were pleasantly surprised by a beautiful pool and big room with a king sized bed, a bathtub, a TV, AC… you get the picture. We were stoked to have such luxury after nights sleeping on trains, in the greasy sheet motel and in our “fancy” digs at IICP. We didn’t do much in Goa however. We went to the beach and sat around, went back to the pool and sat around, sat in the pool, sat in our air conditioned executive suite, ate some fries, ate a crab dinner, took long baths and then did it all over again the next day. We did however meet a couple of charming ladies from the UK who enlightened us with statements like “I don’t believe in helping people”, “we’re not racist, we just don’t really like Muslims”, and “blind people don’t live in the real world you know”. Well, they were nice people really, they just made some eyebrow raising comments is all.
Day 10 – Kolkata
We only had one night in Kolkata before heading to Goa, but we got to see our dorm room at the IICP and drop off some of stuff that we didn’t need in Goa. It was late and dark in the rest of the building so we weren’t able to see much other than our room and the kitchen. Our dorm is an 8 bed
Corn, Spinach and processed cheese sandwiches, mmm.
The hospitality on the flight to Mumbai was sweet, but awkward. The flight attendant was selling beverages and snack packs to passengers and when he got to us he leaned over and whispered something about a free snack for foreigners. He went to the front and grabbed one of the 395 rupee snack packs that they were selling to the other customers and gave it to Meaghan and I to share. We asked for a second one and I tried to pay for it but he refused my money. He then moved on to the couple behind us and offered them snacks as well, but for the usual cost of 395Rs. Our “faux celebrity” status was starting to don on us.
Days 8 & 9 – Bodhgaya
Meaghan and I had to take a 1:45am train to Bodhgaya. We were shocked when we got to the train station and saw that there were tons of people sleeping on the heinously filthy floor of station as well as on the even dirtier platform. Some of these sleeping beauties were lucky enough to have cardboard or a blanket under them. Meaghan and I sat back to back on our backpacks with cat-like awareness, protecting our treasured possessions. Both of us sick from a cold we inherited from Michel. I was reading a book and a few people, who were already interested in the two strange looking, pale, blonde travelers, became enthralled in my book as well and came up to stare at it, as if they had never seen anyone read a book before. It is mind boggling how people live here. I feel a mixture of guilt and weariness.
The ‘train guy’ tells us that we will arrive in Gaya at 10am and Meaghan sets the alarm accordingly. We lock up our backpacks and I fall asleep across from a very gassy sleeping woman. I spend the night between moments of sleep and nose blowing. At 6:50am we are abruptly shaken awake by ‘train guy’ who tells us that we are at our station. Wide-eyed and panic stricken, Meaghan unlocks our bags and we clumsily jump from the train in our pj’s.
In Bodhgaya we stayed at the Tibetan monastery, which was a welcome reprieve from the bustle of trains. We spent the day walking around town visiting the 25 foot Buddha and the Bodhi tree where Buddha found enlightenment. Despite the spanse of shopping bazaars outside of the Bodhi tree entrance, it was surprisingly serene inside and filled with unexpected tourists – robed monks from other countries sitting cross-legged in meditation and facing the tree. At the giant Buddha statue we became part of the tourist attraction, which started with two young Thai monks asking to get a picture with us. This drew a crowd who queued up to pose with us as their friends took the pictures. We are now cameoed in photo albums all over south east and south Asia.
We left Bodhgaya the next morning on our train (which was four hours late btw) in the first class car.
The ‘train guy’ tells us that we will arrive in Gaya at 10am and Meaghan sets the alarm accordingly. We lock up our backpacks and I fall asleep across from a very gassy sleeping woman. I spend the night between moments of sleep and nose blowing. At 6:50am we are abruptly shaken awake by ‘train guy’ who tells us that we are at our station. Wide-eyed and panic stricken, Meaghan unlocks our bags and we clumsily jump from the train in our pj’s.
In Bodhgaya we stayed at the Tibetan monastery, which was a welcome reprieve from the bustle of trains. We spent the day walking around town visiting the 25 foot Buddha and the Bodhi tree where Buddha found enlightenment. Despite the spanse of shopping bazaars outside of the Bodhi tree entrance, it was surprisingly serene inside and filled with unexpected tourists – robed monks from other countries sitting cross-legged in meditation and facing the tree. At the giant Buddha statue we became part of the tourist attraction, which started with two young Thai monks asking to get a picture with us. This drew a crowd who queued up to pose with us as their friends took the pictures. We are now cameoed in photo albums all over south east and south Asia.
We left Bodhgaya the next morning on our train (which was four hours late btw) in the first class car.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Day 10 - Bodhgaya to Kolkata to Goa
The train ride from Bodhgaya to Kolkata was relaxing. We met a couple of women on the train who were also travelling in the same compartment, a mom and her two daughters - one who was in her early thirties probably and the other who was about 1 1/2. They were from Kolkata and they were lovely. We adventurously tried the train food and still live to tell the tale, and we slept or read for most of the ride.
We were pleased to discover that Kolkata looks like less of a disaster than Delhi. We found a taxi and went straight to the IICP. After a bit of driving around and asking questions, we arrived to our humble dorms at the institute. A little dissapointed perhaps by the "lack of luxury" haha (though as I am writing this weeks after this actually happened, I must say we have adjusted well to our dorm and now find it quite homey [or homely as they say in India ;) ]).
The next morning we woke up the sound of loud Indian music from our shantytown-ish neighbours,call to prayer, people bathing in the local tap and several types of happy chirpy birds. We packed up and headed to the airport for a much needed "vacation" in Goa.
We were pleased to discover that Kolkata looks like less of a disaster than Delhi. We found a taxi and went straight to the IICP. After a bit of driving around and asking questions, we arrived to our humble dorms at the institute. A little dissapointed perhaps by the "lack of luxury" haha (though as I am writing this weeks after this actually happened, I must say we have adjusted well to our dorm and now find it quite homey [or homely as they say in India ;) ]).
The next morning we woke up the sound of loud Indian music from our shantytown-ish neighbours,call to prayer, people bathing in the local tap and several types of happy chirpy birds. We packed up and headed to the airport for a much needed "vacation" in Goa.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Days 8 & 9 -- BODHGAYA
Days 8 & 9 – Bodhgaya
Meaghan and I had to take a 1:45am train to Bodhgaya. We were shocked when we got to the train station and saw that there were tons of people sleeping on the heinously filthy floor of station as well as on the even dirtier platform. Some of these sleeping beauties were lucky enough to have cardboard or a blanket under them. Meaghan and I sat back to back on our backpacks with cat-like awareness, protecting our treasured possessions. Both of us sick from a cold we inherited from Michel. I was reading a book and a few people, who were already interested in the two strange looking, pale, blonde travelers, became enthralled in my book as well and came up to stare at it, as if they had never seen anyone read a book before. It is mind boggling how people live here. I feel a mixture of guilt and weariness.
The ‘train guy’ tells us that we will arrive in Gaya at 10am and Meaghan sets the alarm accordingly. We lock up our backpacks and I fall asleep across from a very gassy sleeping woman. I spend the night between moments of sleep and nose blowing. At 6:50am we are abruptly shaken awake by ‘train guy’ who tells us that we are at our station. Wide-eyed and panic stricken, Meaghan unlocks our bags and we clumsily jump from the train in our pj’s.
In Bodhgaya we stayed at the Tibetan monastery, which was a welcome reprieve from the bustle of trains. We spent the day walking around town visiting the 25 foot Buddha and the Bodhi tree where Buddha found enlightenment. Despite the spanse of shopping bazaars outside of the Bodhi tree entrance, it was surprisingly serene inside and filled with unexpected tourists – robed monks from other countries sitting cross-legged in meditation and facing the tree. At the giant Buddha statue we became part of the tourist attraction, which started with two young Thai monks asking to get a picture with us. This drew a crowd who queued up to pose with us as their friends took the pictures. We are now cameoed in photo albums all over south east and south Asia.
We left Bodhgaya the next morning on our train (which was four hours late btw) in the first class car.
Meaghan and I had to take a 1:45am train to Bodhgaya. We were shocked when we got to the train station and saw that there were tons of people sleeping on the heinously filthy floor of station as well as on the even dirtier platform. Some of these sleeping beauties were lucky enough to have cardboard or a blanket under them. Meaghan and I sat back to back on our backpacks with cat-like awareness, protecting our treasured possessions. Both of us sick from a cold we inherited from Michel. I was reading a book and a few people, who were already interested in the two strange looking, pale, blonde travelers, became enthralled in my book as well and came up to stare at it, as if they had never seen anyone read a book before. It is mind boggling how people live here. I feel a mixture of guilt and weariness.
The ‘train guy’ tells us that we will arrive in Gaya at 10am and Meaghan sets the alarm accordingly. We lock up our backpacks and I fall asleep across from a very gassy sleeping woman. I spend the night between moments of sleep and nose blowing. At 6:50am we are abruptly shaken awake by ‘train guy’ who tells us that we are at our station. Wide-eyed and panic stricken, Meaghan unlocks our bags and we clumsily jump from the train in our pj’s.
In Bodhgaya we stayed at the Tibetan monastery, which was a welcome reprieve from the bustle of trains. We spent the day walking around town visiting the 25 foot Buddha and the Bodhi tree where Buddha found enlightenment. Despite the spanse of shopping bazaars outside of the Bodhi tree entrance, it was surprisingly serene inside and filled with unexpected tourists – robed monks from other countries sitting cross-legged in meditation and facing the tree. At the giant Buddha statue we became part of the tourist attraction, which started with two young Thai monks asking to get a picture with us. This drew a crowd who queued up to pose with us as their friends took the pictures. We are now cameoed in photo albums all over south east and south Asia.
We left Bodhgaya the next morning on our train (which was four hours late btw) in the first class car.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Day 7 – Varanasi part 2
This day Meaghan and I decided to spend the day recuperating from the cold we adopted from Michel at our semi-swanky hotel. Not such an exciting day to report on… except maybe for our ayervedic massages.
The sign on the wall that we were directed to read stated “if you would like to show your gratitude to the spa staff, please do not give them money directly. Instead, please put money in the tip box”. We were led into adjoining massage rooms by our two grandmotherly masseurs and were instructed to undress… without them leaving the room. Hmmm. Okay, when in India. Being that these were grandmotherly women I shrugged and complied. Both women stood in my room hotly whispering close to my face “don’t tip box. Management bad. Take money. Tip to us” all the while my masseur undoing my bra for me and demanding that I get entirely buck. The massage came with about a bucket of oil, just enough to deep fry me later. Regardless, it was rather relaxing. I even enjoyed being pounded with a scalding hot bag of herbs. Luckily I had gotten the quieter grandmother masseur, whereas I could hear bits of conversation from Meaghan’s granny who was relaying a long story of how her husband had left her because she had two miscarriages and how my granny’s husband had left her because she had a girl instead of a boy. After the hour (an extra 15 minutes than we paid for) Meaghan and I guiltily tipped them 100Rs each to them personally and 10Rs to the tip box and left, our hair dripping with oil, muscles completely relaxed.
The sign on the wall that we were directed to read stated “if you would like to show your gratitude to the spa staff, please do not give them money directly. Instead, please put money in the tip box”. We were led into adjoining massage rooms by our two grandmotherly masseurs and were instructed to undress… without them leaving the room. Hmmm. Okay, when in India. Being that these were grandmotherly women I shrugged and complied. Both women stood in my room hotly whispering close to my face “don’t tip box. Management bad. Take money. Tip to us” all the while my masseur undoing my bra for me and demanding that I get entirely buck. The massage came with about a bucket of oil, just enough to deep fry me later. Regardless, it was rather relaxing. I even enjoyed being pounded with a scalding hot bag of herbs. Luckily I had gotten the quieter grandmother masseur, whereas I could hear bits of conversation from Meaghan’s granny who was relaying a long story of how her husband had left her because she had two miscarriages and how my granny’s husband had left her because she had a girl instead of a boy. After the hour (an extra 15 minutes than we paid for) Meaghan and I guiltily tipped them 100Rs each to them personally and 10Rs to the tip box and left, our hair dripping with oil, muscles completely relaxed.
Days 5 & 6 – Varanasi
Varanasi has been my favorite place so far. The lonely planet describes Varanasi as being more chaotic than Agra, with many more touts hassling you. They also comment on the roads being covered in cow patties. They were only correct about the state of the roads. I had to devise a way to scan at least 10 meters ahead and then look around while I walked those 10 meters, then scan the next 10 meters. Otherwise I was always looking at the ground and missing everything that was happening around us. As for the touts and chaos, we found Varanasi much more mellow than Agra.
Meaghan and I stayed at a nice place away from the Ganges. It had a big courtyard, a sheesha bar and a pool. We also had comfy beds, which we were really stoked about after the greasy sheet motel in Agra and the 16 hour overnight train ride to Varanasi where we awoke at each station we stopped at; paranoid and uncomfortable on the skinny vinyl cots.
Our first evening in the hotel we met Chelsea and Michel for dinner at the sheesha bar. I was congested and tired and my lungs felt like they were on fire from the pollution, but luckily Meaghan was her usual charming and chipper self and she befriended some Varanasi university students in the restaurant. One of which was Prateek, a real sweetie that offered to take us to the river in the morning to see the sunrise.
The next morning Prateek bartered a good price for a boat ride up the Ganges. The Ganges is the sacred/heavily polluted river where people come to cremate their loved ones. The belief is that you go directly to “heaven” as soon as your ashes hit the water. We bought flowers and sat with a “priest” of sorts and chanted a mantra with him, then lit candles in dried banana leaf bowls with flowers and released them into the Ganges. I sent mine down the Ganges with my Dad in mind…
The view of Varanasi from the river is really something beautiful. It is amazing to think how long some of the ghats (religious structures) have been there for and that ceremonies that occur along the banks of the river are the same ones practices over thousands of years.
We spent the day walking around the town of Varanasi, playing “prairie oyster hopscotch” so to speak. We observed a ritual in ghat that represented the lingum and yoni where a woman who is having trouble conceiving is dunked in the Ganges (perhaps curing her infertility but gaining an ear infection). We attempted to take a bicycle rickshaw to a bakery, but the rickshaw peddlers really took us for a ride when they said they new where the bakery was that we wanted to go to, but then dropped us off us no where near it. We also enjoyed an exciting stampede down a skinny alley, as we ran wide-eyed, hearts racing and locals laughing at us.
The evening was equally as interesting but perhaps a little more sombre. We took another boat ride up the Ganges at sunset. Our first stop was at the ritual that was being done under bright spotlights with a massive crowd of people watching from boats and in stands. Though this sounds like a tourist attraction, it was still an amazing display of exotic music and ritual that made my neck hair stand on end. The river was lit with hundreds of floating candles that people in boats had lit and sent off.
Then we headed up river to the burning ghats. An eerie surreal site of loved ones being cremated while their families sat quietly by and watched. An even more disturbing site was the tourists taking this as an opportunity to get up real close and take photos. Ugh, gross.
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