Tuk-tuks and trekking

Another week in India.

This last week has been an emotional roller coaster for me. There have been times where I have been almost paralysed with homesickness and times where my heart nearly burst for the kids.

Last week started well. We taught on Monday. I made a fun lesson in the afternoon involving stickers and games and set a huge pile of homework (the kids had three days off in a row and I wanted to keep their minds sharp and engaged- I made little booklets for them to write books!).

It was a good day.

On Tuesday we rose early, piled into a bus and headed east to the border of Kerala and Tamil Nadu. It was a long drive. As the bus jerked; dodging dogs, tuk-tuks, pedestrians, I dozed. I woke periodically. The scenery changed like a flipbook: river, village, town. Always green, always busy, people everywhere. We stopped for breakfast and lunch. This is when I got sick.

Now I would like to take this opportunity to publicly commend my gut for its loyalty and strength. Since leaving the USA in September I have only had three bouts of tummy troubles. And sitting on that bus, was one. I felt it coming, that "uh-oh" grumble and the white-faced cramps came too. We were on our way to an art school for disabled kids when it happened, a cultural stop on the way to Munnar.

For those of you that don't know I worked in disability services in Melbourne. I worked on camps with kids, exercise and leisure programs and built some great friendships and learned so much about disability and myself. I was really interested to see the facilities and meet the kids.

Unfortunately we arrived as the kids were on buses leaving, but we did get to see the neat workshop where fabrics are dyed and sewn into beautiful scarves by deft and mentally and physically disabled adults. And I got to use the bathroom.

After I went into a mild fever and slept another couple of hours as we drove to our final destination. The final part of our journey was windy and bumpy. We arrived. In tea country. The hills were rolling and on their gentle curves stretched acres of tea bushes. I had no idea how beautiful tea was. It is a robust bush with glowing, bright leaves at the top, and thick cable like roots that carve up the earth. We were told the bushes live for 100 years, and then are pulled out and replanted. The ones we stood next to were 70 years old.

We weaved through a tea estate and made our way to the campsite. We were atop a valley covered in a thick cloud layer that looked like a carpet of marshmallow. The sun set and the cold set in. It was refreshing as we star gazed and huddled around a bonfire. After dinner we set off to our tents and snuggled in for warmth.

The morning came and some of us set off for a mini trek. We had no path, just a guide, a machete, and our balance. We transversed the top of the valley, always atop the marshmallow clouds. After a couple of hours we went back for breakfast and packed up for the real trek.

We eventually set off, again weaving through tea estate. We made it down into the valley where we weaved through lemon grass as the sun pierced through the sparse marshmallow cloud. We crossed streams, chased waterfalls and eventually made out way back.

Toward the end a small group (which I have dubbed the "A team"- Emily, Cindy, Ross, Peter) climbed straight up the face of the final bluff. I set the pace. It felt so refreshing to feel my heart rate climb, my face redden as my quads and calves burned. The lemon grass sliced at my legs and arms and whipped my face. But the view from the top was worth it, and the astonished looked from other tourists as we arrived, sweaty and smiling. As a group we raised our target of 1500 pounds to pay the fees for about 40 children to attend school. A worthy reason to sweat, bleed and pant.

After a quick chai we set off home. After a good nights sleep we woke to AUSTRALIA DAY! Or here in India, Republic Day. A national holiday. I used the day to laze around and catch up on sleep. On Friday, we woke, ready to test my kids (we write an exam every 2 weeks to check the kids progress) and we were informed that because a governor had died a state holiday had been declared. Instead we went to the orphanages to play with the kids.

I spent the morning at the girls orphanage, drawing, reading and playing with the girls. Some are so eager to please, some are loud, others like to just sit with you. I brought paper and pens and as girls weaved in and out some drew masterpieces, others practiced numbers. After a traditional lunch we spent the afternoon in the boys orphanage.

This was a really special place. The girls orphanage is run by nuns and has a very sterile formal feel to it. The boys orphanage is run by a wonderful man who oozed compassion and leadership. His presence made me feel comfortable and safe.

And the boys are a little more outgoing, and therefore easier to engage. After the tour of the orphanage I stayed on the little playground by the water and made friends. The boys tried to teach me some Malayalam (the local language).

I then rallied a bunch of the boys and handed out paper and pens. I sat swarmed by eager artists, hands digging in the box for their favourite colour, scribbling contently. It was a magical site as we sat in the main hall. Some volunteers played carrom with the kids, other boys practiced their numbers, and others drawing.

A wide eyed boy would approach me: Paper. What do you say? (I sound like my Grandma) Paper now? Eyes wider. If you say please you can have some (Grandma Tina). Can you give me paper PLEASE? Eyes sparkling.

Perfect. It got to the point where I would only have to make a face and they would remember. And the grace in which they would accept the paper, draw something and if able label it. I would correct the spelling and practice pronunciation. I now have a huge pile of these drawings, the boys insisted that I keep them.

On Friday night I bid farewell to the two week volunteers. Its amazing, in two weeks I built such great bonds. Emily introduced me to my alter ego as we pushed the limits of every joke and of most people's personal space. Cindy, my partner in teaching, thank you for taking maths and for your calm approach. Peter, Alan, Emma, thanks for the endless laughter and for reminding me that life's serious, but not that serious.

And yesterday, in much need of an adventure, Fawn (the most Australian person I have ever met), Helene (my honorary Auntie, an older flawlessly nice Canadian lady), Emma (a crazy English girl, who wasn't gone just yet) and I headed into Enakulum. We got the ferry. And wandered to the temple of Shiva where I had heard there was an elephant festival (and by heard, I saw a sign in Malayalam, which looks like Hindi, with an elephant on it with the date 28-1-2012).

Unfortunately the festival didn't start till the evening, so we went shopping. It was so interesting. The shopping centre was filled with the Indian equivalent of Cotton on and Topshop, but instead of shorts and t-shirts they sold saris and kurtis tops.

Finally, after a day of adventuring we stood in the women's line at the ferry terminal buying tickets. As I stood there I cursed my skin colour. We were the only white people there, men stared and women looked at us cautiously. I never felt threatened, just conscious of where I was and that I didn't fit in. We boarded and as we stood there, smushed in to the little boat. A little girl caught my eye, we shared a moment, smiled, a quick wave. And she continued to stare, but it wasn't the penetrative, more judgemental stare of an adult, it was the curious, shy stare of a 7 year old. I lifted my camera, photo? No, yes, head bob, no, yes. I took the photo and showed it to her. She giggled.

At that moment, I realised, that maybe she her was curious because I look different, because I don't belong. So I guess, as I see India and acknowledge the differences, stare at the beauty, and unveil what it means to me I have to remember that yes I don't belong here. But that is ok, sometimes these differences are what bridge the gaps to better and more wonderful things.

Tuk-tuks and trekking