Ciao Pina

So, I’ve moved out of Pina’s this weekend. My need for space, independence and feeling of self-sufficiency drove me to take the plunge. My new place is a cute little apartment in the centre of town so is a stone throw away from the markets, bars and restaurants. Bit dark (lack of windows) but homely with wooden beams on the ceiling and nice brickwork with little brick arches inside. When I first saw it I could picture being there and making coffee in the kitchen and I could visualise flowers in the little cubby holes, pictures on the wall and books on the coffee table. I could just generally see it being mine.

Many of you will think I’m crackers to leave Pina. A few people have responded to the last blog saying things along the line of “make the most of living with Pina. Get her to do your washing and have dinner on the table when you get home. She’s lonely and wants to fuss over you. Let her." But it did just get a little too much. When I got in from work she’d be waiting by the window waiting for me calling out “Anna!!” as I walked through the gate. It might have been a 12 hour day and I’d be ready for quiet time but then she does the “ following me around the kitchen setting my table, getting stuff out for me, practically tucking a bib into my top” thing. It got frankly annoying. I realised that I had to leave before she literally started cutting my food up for me on my plate, putting it on a fork and saying ‘open wide!’ in a baby voice whilst making aeroplane noises and slow motion putting the food in my mouth.

To ne honest though, I have actually grown to really love Pina, but we had two totally different expectations from the “relationship”. It’s in her nature to mother and mollycoddle. She needs it at the moment. She’s always had someone to care for and now I think she needs me to fill that void. She wanted a daughter. But it’s in my nature to want to be self-sufficient and independent, especially now starting a new job. We just had different perceptions of boundaries. For her, it’s acceptable and kind to cook for me, tidy my room, make my bed, take my dirty washing out of my room(then wash, iron my clothes and even fold my knickers), talk to me through the door when I’m in the shower, follow me around the kitchen when I cook and sit next to me and look at me when I eat, wake me up in the morning, wait for me at the window after work. For me, yes sweet, but incredibly invasive and suffocating too. Sometimes I’d get in from work, and feel the almost guilty relief of cycling around the corner and noticing her car wasn’t there so I knew I could do my own thing and have some space for the evening.

The day I decided for sure I was leaving was the day when I found myself leaving the house without breakfast. Breakfast had become my only guaranteed meal time when I knew I could make it myself and sit quietly, sleepily reading my book and slowly waking up whilst waiting for the caffeine to kick in. I got into a bit of a routine/system of dopily plodding around the kitchen still unable to think never mind make small talk in Italian. That morning I got the hallwall, noticed the kitchen door unlocked (which is strange as usually every door in the house is locked) and light spilling out into the hallway....and there she was, getting my cereal bowl out and putting my coffee on. No. I couldn’t face insisting I’d do it because I knew she’d just say “sit down” and just do it for me and then I’d have to sit there eating my Italy’s own special K whilst she sits and watches me eat and I’d feel obliged to make small talk in Italian when I can hardly string a sentence together in my own head, in English. So I found myself just popping my head in saying “ciao” and walking out.

That night she was waiting for me at the window, as normal, and as soon as I got up the stairs she followed me into my room and started telling me she’d do “everything” for me because “you’re my daughter”. I had to put my foot down again and say thank you but I WANT to wash my own clothes, cook for myself etc but she kept repeating “I’ll do everything for you”. I keep repeating that I needed my own space/independence. We went around in circles for a while until she dramatically shrugged her shoulders in that Italian mamma way and said “ok!”. She then asked me, straight away afterwards what I wanted to eat. We’d had this “I want to do everything for you/I want my independence" conversation nearly every day from day one. She wasn’t going to get what I wanted and I wasn’t ever going to give her what she wanted either. It wasn’t going to work.

Telling Pina I was leaving was hard. I had genuine pre-break up nerves the whole day. Butterflies and sweaty palms. It was difficult and awkward especially with the language barrier. Being sat there at the kitchen table with my dictionary quickly fumbling through to find the most tactful thing to say next. Overall all though she was understanding and must have seen it coming as I’d said “I need my independence” nearly every day prior to this. A few days later I became ill (thanks to the snotty nursery kids, I think). It’s ironic isn’t it how when something ends or it’s about to end you really appreciate and or need it. I just felt really groggy, heavy headed, lethargic and with a really bad throat (to the point where my voice nearly gave up). My air-headed nature that’s somehow developed since arriving here kicked into overdrive and I lost ALL my keys (for Pina’s house, the school, my bike lock and even for the castel where I teach in Castle Retaldi); I felt totally blank when trying to plan lessons, even blanker in my afternoon lessons and my head just felt empty. Luckily Vicki was there to get the priest to let me into the castle and offer me some prompts when I went blank in class. But it wasn’t a great feeling being so scatty and unimaginative. The week before I’d slept in late one day, nearly cycled onto the motorway instead of to the train station another day-I have recently felt generally a bit disorganised, forgetful and less able to think on my feet. Really frustrating. I half thought that Pina’s mollycoddling was a contributing factor to my blonde-ness. Doing everything for is disempowering and arguably encourages an idea that I can’t do anything independently like waking up or getting to work. But to be honest, it’s probably due to the fact that it’s a new job with a whole lot of other “news” thrown in-new language, people, local bars, town, country, routine, culture, students etc etc. I have to be patient with myself, or just get a grip...So anyway,after my mega scatty/ill day I was finally ready for Pina fuss. As I walked through the gate, I looked up at the window and the light flooding out and smiled when Pina called out “Annnaaa!!”rather than rolled my eyes. I then almost bounded up the stairs and when Pina was waiting for me at the top I put on my best baby voice, stroked my throat and told her how ditzy and poorly I felt. She sat me down in the kitchen and made me warm milk with honey, honey on toast, made me gargle vinegar, then gave me more milk and honey, then dissolved a paracetamol in water and made me drink that, then gave me an extra throw on my bed and sent me to bed early. It was a real comfort. She’s the perfect woman to be around when you feel ill/run down or heartbroken to love you, fuss you and comfort you....but when you’re trying to be tough, organised and self-sufficient it’s a battle. Everything has its place I guess.

I did find leaving Pina hard. For one, I’ve grown attached to her. On top of that, Pina is a crier. It’s pretty standard that she’ll cry on a daily basis-she would literally cry over spilt milk-but like I said, for like a second, and then she’s fine again. But on the day I left I did find the tears a bit difficult. I bought her some flowers and she cried. When I was eating my lunch that she’d made me (chicken rice stew thing-yeah, my vegetarianism is basically going out the window) she cried. When I was taking all my stuff to the front door I glanced at her though the kitchen door and she was sat at the table crying. That really did me in. When she saw the apartment, apart from her standard racist comments about the dangerous Moroccans and that my area is the “Naples of Foligno” (it’s down a narrow ally with high walls, a bit of graffiti and washing hanging out of people windows) she was actually very sweet. She was complimentary and even bought me some grapes and a bottle of red wine with those little biscuits you dunk in. She drove me back to hers so I could collect my bike and cycle back to my new home. This is going to sound mega cheesy, but the image is in my head so I’m just going to go with it; she was stood on the steps of her house and it was really windy “multo vento!!” and the sun was in her face and she was crying. Struggled with that. We had a massive hug and I ran and jumped onto my bike and cycled away before she pulled my heart strings a little too much.

I feel a mixture of feelings now; guilt (I guess I feel bad to be leaving and making her feel yet again abandoned), apprehension, excitement, un-certaincy...and yeah, a bit nervous. I’ve been craving my own space for a while now, practically screaming out for it at some points, but now I’m about to have it doubts are starting to set in. Like, what if everything Pina’s said is right-what if I can’t manage on my own, financially, practically. What if I get lonely....but then again, the un-known is always been nerve-wracking than actually being in it. Once I get settled I’ll be able to get into a routine and make the place my own, I’ll have the independence I’ve been craving and can leave my bed un-made if I wish and lounge around in my PJs in a Sunday morning too if I want. I can leave when I want, have my coffee in the morning in peace and come in when I want.

But, underneath it all, I will miss Pina. She is one of the most interesting, complicated, funny and sad characters I’ve ever met. Amongst all her comic eccentricity, amazingly blunt and refreshingly honest one-liners, old school racism, high and mighty attitude, obsession with money and lack and boundaries there’s something really heart-breaking heart warming about Pina. Whilst she was in some ways suffocating and made me feel like a baby, she has shown me a ridiculous amount of love and I might just miss her greeting me in the morning and telling me I look beautiful for work and waiting for me at the window to come home and greeting me with a “ciao bella” and a kiss on the cheek.

Pina

There’s a lot to say-and it’s not even been a week. I am going to focus on one thing for now though, well...one person. Meet Pina. Picture a characterture of an older Italian woman and you’re halfway there. She wears big sunglasses, red lipstick (which often ends up on her teeth) big dark eyeliner and her hair pulled up in a hairgrip. She likes to wear dresses which float around like cloaks which have unnecessarily massive pockets so when she’s reaching into a pocket the dress moves down with her and it takes her forever to get to the bottom of it. She tops off her outfits with silver trainers. She has a janitor style bundle of keys which she’s often found trying to fish out of one of these infamous pockets. She’s warm, eccentric, serious, straight-forward, tactile and laughs a lot. She also cries a lot, randomly- but only ever for a second and then stops. I guess her husband’s death is still raw.
I moved into Pina’s house last Friday. She’s recently widowed and fallen out with her daughter and feels lonely/scared in her big house alone so the last time she came into the school (to get her letters translated to send to relatives in America) she asked Vicki if she knew anyone who would want to rent a room out. And then I came along. Perfect set up really-cheap rent, lovely apartment near the school and a great opportunity to learn Italian as she doesn’t speak any English.

But living with Pina has its fair share of challenges. I like my own space, probably more than most. I need quiet time, me time, un-wind time, whatever you want to call it time. It’s very English of me to be reserved and private and very Italian of her to be invasive and “in your face”. We agreed from day one that we’d be separate, do our own thing for meals and that I’d be in and out the house because of work etc. I did worry that she’d be tempted to “mother me” too much and the best way to tackle it, I thought, was to be kind but firm and draw the line regarding personal space and routines from day one. But it’s been difficult to do as she’s a very dominant woman. She gets insulted if I don’t eat lunch with her and on the first day when I cooked for myself she followed me around the kitchen and sat and watched me eat.

She then took me for a drive in the mountains. It was nice; radio on, arm out the window, the sun was out, driving past 100s of olive trees around bends up higher and higher. After a while we approached a cemetery and right away I knew who we were visiting. Her dead husband. Just as we pulled in, it started raining. Quiet poetic, really. It was beautiful-big grand tombs surrounded by mountains and a little old man by the gate with a van full of flowers to sell to the grievers. But I didn’t want to be in this situation so I stayed in the car with my book. It’s day one and I’m at the cemetery where her husband’s burried....in the middle of the mountains. It was poignant watching her walk up the footpath with her bright orange top, silver trainers and big umbrella though. Elegant and sad somehow. I felt a bit guilty but I took a picture.

She then returned, got in the car and then realised she’d lost her car keys. I still don’t understand how; she had her handbag with her and as she got out the car I noticed them in her hand. She went back to the cemetery to check-no luck. Came back to the car and emptied her bag-no luck. We both searched the whole car, under the seats, in the boot, under the car-no luck. Checked her bag again-no luck. She then managed to get the flower guy and other grievers all gathered around looking for these keys whilst getting hysterical, ringing people, yelling at them and then putting the phone down. Awkward. The flower guy and the grievers were sticking sticks, pieces of metal and even a rope down the grates in case they’d fallen down there. Me and Pina were then actually on her husband’s grave/tomb; she was pulling the flowers out of their vases, opening the glass case and moving all the pictures (of her husband, husband’s brother and some other random woman) around in case they were in there-no luck. Eventually, about 45 minutes later one of the grievers somehow found the keys. I still don’t understand where or how she lost them but it was all a bit crackers. At this point I was ready to just go “home” and lie down. After a long tour through the little towns she stopped at the butchers-I sat in the car. Then she stopped at the supermarket. By this point, I was getting a bit crabby. So I waited in the car. She was an hour. After that whole saga, she then told me that “we” are going to her friend’s house for dinner and when I said “no thank you I’m tired” she was like “I’ll have to ring them now and tell them you can’t come” when I never said I’d come in the first place. I just prefer doing my own thing. I feel powerless enough living in someone else’s house with pictures of her daughter’s face all around the room (one of which looks over me as I sleep) and Pina’s fut coats in the wardrobe that I don’t want to feel powerless over my eating habits and routines. I don’t want to be hostile or rude, but I want to do my own thing and be independent not get into the habit of hanging out with her all the time. I didn’t move to Italy to get into a dependent relationship with obligation or lack of freedom. And all that was in the first day of living with her!

So moving swiftly onto day two. First annoyance was waking up and getting dressed when suddenly Pina stated trying to get into my room. It was locked. The door handle just kept going up and down as she called out “Anna!” “Anna!”. It was 9.30 on a Sunday morning. I ignored her. She shouldn’t be coming into my room. I went into the kitchen to say “bye” as I was off out for coffee and she had all the pastries out waiting for me. She then told me we were leaving at 10.30 to go to her brother’s and returning at 4pm.I had to just say “no”-I had planning to do for a start and I needed a break. It feels brutal being so dismissive but I want this to work, and I have to be clear.

After coffee, Vicki lent me her bike so I could have the independence to go home, eat lunch, cycle to school, plan, and explore Foligno etc. So I leisurely cycled back looking forward to lunch and getting used to the place whilst Pina was out. Got to the front gate. Locked. Checked my large selection of keys. No key fitted the lock. Ended up climbing over the wall with a dress on. Classy. Got to the front door. There’s two locks. A top one and a bottom one. Challenge #1: The key for the top lock would go in but wouldn’t turn. Challenge #2: None of the keys would even go in the bottom lock.

After many failed attempts, I phoned Vicki. Vicki called Pina. Pina called her daughter. Her daughter arrived apologetically with her keys. Her key for the top lock worked, but for the bottom one didn’t. She then called Pina and they had a yelling match down the phone. Pina was then on her way back from her brothers. “So much for my day of independence” I thought, “i can;t even get in the door without Pina!” Not knowing where else to go I went back to the school and waited there. Vicki called. Pina had called her to say she was home. So I go back on the bike and cycled home. There was a storm. Thunder. Lightening. Torrential rain. I could hardly see and the road was like a stream (I was going to say “river” but that sounded too dramatic) and covered my feet as I cycled. I was absolutely wet through. Arrived at the house. The gate was left open. Rung the bell.....no answer. She wasn’t in. At this point it was 4.30 and I was soaking, tired and hungry. I rang Vicki (yep...again! she must love me). She rung Pina. Vicki rung me back. Pina was at the cemetery. Standard. Luckily once she eventually got back and let me in, Pina shortly went out again. She said something about keys and locks and times but at this stage my head was going to explode. The thought of seeing another key again made me to cry. I felt like Alice in wonderland and that tiny door and the annoyingly massive see-through table with the key on the top that she can’t get to. But the annoying day ended nicely with a Chinese and summerhights high with Vicki and her house mates. I have to admit, whilst this has just been one long rant, Pina is one hell of a character and her heart’s in the right place-I just need independence!

Mind in two palaces: three top weekends.

Udaipur: 29th April

First weekend away from Jaipur. We got an overnight bus. It felt nice looking out the window, wind in my hair, noticing how strange it felt to be led down whilst passing the familiar sights of Big Bazaar, Apex Mall (where I get off for work), the two bridges. Udaipur was, as expected, beautiful with it’s hills, the lake and narrow streets. It was a very indulgent weekend.. We looked around the palace, drank silly amounts of coffee, ate several muffins, meandered around the streets, drank beer, went on a boat ride, watched the sun set and we even got our palms read.

I’m very sceptical, cynical yet intrigued about palm readings. He said I’ll have a nice husband (he kept telling me that he’d be better than me); at least 7 more trips abroad; that I have an open heart and if it’s good or bad I’ll express it; that sometimes I get mind trouble; “your mind is in two palaces” he said “you’re always torn and confused.” “Use your mind properly” he said “ and don’t waste your time.” I will have 2 jobs, 2 sources of income. 3 Kids-1 girl, 2 boys. Marriage in early 30s. He said I drink too much. The funny this is though, last week I went to a jewellers and I got my palm read again to find out what "my gemstone” is. So I sat down and I noticed how he poked my hand more than looking at the lines. He said a lot of the same things which was weird- 3 kids, married in early 30s, will spend a long time abroad, that I’m romantic but overly emotional and think too much. Again, he said that I'll 2 jobs and that my mind is always in two places. My stone is the “catseye”-basically keeps the head/heart battle in check. He also said that I'm a "peaceful woman" but if i'm made angry it takes a long time to cool down. So apparently this will help me make more logical, less impulsive decisions. Now that’s good sales for you “This beautiful stone, that brings out your eyes, will balance you”.

They're not far off the "mind in 2 palaces" thing though-I know everyone is torn about things but I feel very indecisive at the moment. I'm a homebird with itchy feet which makes decision making difficult. I have a need for structure and a desire to feel rooted and obviously lots of people at home that I love but I always long for new experiences at the same time. There’s a happy medium there somewhere. We’re all scared of looking back on our life with regret-and there’s a risk of regret in whatever you do especially if you go too far either way. So whether it’s all just mumbo jumbo or not it's still thought provoking and the ironic thing my mind is “in two palaces” about whether to take any of this on board or not.....I must admit though I’m half tempted to buy the pendant!

Agra: 06/05/22

It’s hard to say what I thought of the Taj. Selfish I know, but I wish I could have seen it for the first time completely alone so I didn’t just feel like another tourist with a in some sort of weird production like; “ok stand there. Take a picture. Good. Now, move there-no, stand there. Smile.” It just feels a bit weird. Sat on the steps just through the archway (where everyone takes pictures) it was amusing watching people’s awkwardness when they had a picture taken alone in front of the Taj (we took mock awkward standing alone in front of the Taj pictures: see picture for my example!!) and watching massive tour groups in matching hats and families who looked so stern and serious as there picture was being taken.

I noticed, sat on the step, how some people walked through the arch, didn’t even look at the Taj and turned their back to it straight away and smiled ready for the picture. There’s something strange about the whole thing-yes there’s a romantic story behind it, but what makes some buildings so ridiculously more famous than others? I just found it all a bit weird and sort of forced somehow.




Jaisalmer 13/05/11

Probably one of the best weekends yet. Even getting to the train station was an adventure. We were running really late-we were still in the rickshaw with two minutes before the train was due to leave-“if you a play a song in your head, by the time the song finishes the train will have left” Michael reassuringly said. We got there about three minutes late. Ran to the entrance- couldn’t find the entrance-couldn’t find the platform, found the platform-it was over the bridge, spotted the train as it was pulling out-ran through crowds of people over the bridge half planning in the back of our minds what we’d do and where we’d go instead-as I ran down the steps I noticed the train wasn’t in sight but as caught up with Laura and Jerome I notice the train was STILL pulling out (they’re proper long). So we all ran as fast as we could, ducking and diving between people, caught up with the train, grabbed a rail of one of the doors, pulled ourselves up the steps and jumped onto the moving train, sweating and out of breath. We then had to stand there shoulder to shoulder with loads of other people squashed next to the toilet before we could get off at the next station and find our actual carriage, seats etc. By the time we got on the sleeper train we all slept like babies.

The camel ride was more relaxing- riding through rocky and sandy areas with trees scattered around and of course the sand dunes. The shadows, breeze, sun, the motion of the camel walking and clicking sounds the camel guides made to make the camels speed up and making various other sounds to communicate. When we stopped to rest under a tree our legs shook when we led down. We ate melon under the tree (the taste of melon always reminds me of being at my grandparent’s house in Essex, now I wonder if it’ll remind me of being in India ) drinking chai and sharing riddles and jokes with the camel guides-don’t ever try and explain how a “knock knock” joke works. Our guide was funny. He kept saying “hunky dory”, “lovely jubbly” and “diamond geezer” as well as randomly coming out with, accents, riddles and strange poems about chai, women and chapattis. My camel, Calu, was great too- very well behaved compared to the others. Bergit’s camel spent the whole trip randomly straying from the group to eat leaves off trees and Michael’s camel had mental health problems. We ate dinner by the sand dunes, watched the sun set, drank a couple of beers (which tastes 50 times better in the desert) and all sat around putting the world to rights as people almost instinctively do in contexts like this.

When you’re detached from everyday life- in the sea, on a mountain, in the desert-conversations always tend to become “deep” or reflective in some way as perhaps being in an alien situation makes you feel more objective or detached somehow. Anyway we named the desert “the desert of truth” that night as it managed to tease all our secrets and stories out of us. We didn’t have the “magically romantic” view of the stars but the night was interesting in a different way. It was, in all honesty a bit scary! We all had out blankets laid out on the sand dunes (that we, with childish glee, earlier ran across, rolled down and jumped about in) and shared stories as we fell asleep. I felt a bit like Truman in the Truman show looking at the sky and how dome-like it looked. It was cloudy but the moon was ridiculously bright you could see everyone clearly. Then the wind kicked in and the sand started hitting us and getting in our eyes, ears and mouths. At the same time there was silent lighting on the horizon either side of us and on top of it a beam of light on the horizon scanning and moving from the Pakistani border.

Then the wind kept getting stronger so we had to hold onto our bags, lie on our flipflops and tie our hats to our wrists with a scarf wrapped right round our faces. During the night my imagination was getting the better of me and I kept on picturing “The Mummy” and this bollywood I’d film I’d seen where a mother and son get separated- “Bambi” style-by a massive sand storm in my head. In the morning I woke up on Jerome’s blanket and mine was just a massive pile of sand. I’d drawn the short straw and was sleeping the side where all the sand was coming from. In the morning it was “hunky dory” though waking up to eggs, toast , chai and a sunrise over sand dunes. 3 top weekends. Only 1 weekend left to go and then I'm home again, home again-jiggity jig.

A 3D hindi horror, a wedding and nearly 90% happiness.

I struggle to keep up writing here as I feel so busy and have little time to reflect (and when I do have time to reflect I’d rather spend it reflecting, rather than writing about reflecting). But it’s been a while now and I feel a blog is overdue...... I’ve never known time to quite this fast-it’s ridiculous. It’s a double edged sward really, because on one hand it prevents me from missing home but on the other hand I feel a bit panicky sometimes that I’m not savouring it enough. It’s a bit like when you go to a posh restaurant really hungry-the meal is amazing and you know you should be taking your time and appreciating all the different tastes but you’ve waited all day to eat, you’re starving and end up guzzling it down so fast you hardly taste anything. Cheesy metaphor, I know-but it does feel a lot like that.

It’s just a bit of a whirlwind here, everything is in constant flux. Nothing is permanent, even for a minute so you end up feeling swept along by it all. You’re constantly facing beginnings and endings. Yes, I know that nothing is permanent but change feels more dramatic here somehow. Since my last blog loads of staff have left or moved camps, new staff have started, Caroline’s gone back to the UK, the volunteers from the volunteers house have moved in. Things are new, then familiar, then gone. People are new, then familiar then gone. So there’s hardly any use and certainly no time to get really attached to anything, whether it be a person or an experience or a certain routine. It forces you to “live in the now” I guess, which can’t be bad.
It’s nice to have a (really top) group of people to do things with though: read next to each other in silence, share Wednesday night beers with on rooftop bars, go to pizza hut and the cinema (3D hindi horror-scary and ridiculous with an amazing interactive atmosphere as everyone talks, cheers, whoops and claps throughout); singing dancing and cheering at the Rajasthan Royals game at the cricket stadium trying to spot Shilpa Shetta and Liz Hurley and learning the rules of cricket the night before thanks to a lesson from Michael....it’s all these little things put together that give me an almost constant buzz of excitement in my stomach.

Nearly 90 % of the time I feel really happy and content here. As always in situations like this feelings are intensified-when you’re “up” it feels bubbly, intense and sometimes even overwhelming-caught up in a parade of a wedding, dancing in B2B (club in the basement of a mall), in a rickshaw listening to music in the hot breeze...it catches you by surprise sometimes and makes you feel giggly and alive ....and when you’re “down”-which is very rare, thankfully, it feels intense again. It’s ridiculously hot here (as soon as you sit in the rickshaw you start sweating and at night the mattress feels like it’s heated) so at times my patience is low and the heat makes me tried and irritable. At times I catch myself with a strange knotty anxious feeling in my stomach and have that weird feeling like I’ve forgotten something. But feelings like that are just stirred up by the whirlwind of it all and swiftly pass.

In terms of the actual work I’m doing, I try to work as hard as I play! The logistical side of time management is difficult- keeping on top of what each member of staff has learnt, re-working the timetable when staff join, leave or move camps, lesson planning, making a syllabus and then juggling the bookings and volunteer feedback forms on top of it. Sometimes I feel like hitting my head against the wall when I feel a lesson drying up, or if something isn't going in or I run out of ideas. Like, at times I think it’s going well and then I pass a student on the stairs and they’ll say “I’m fine” out the blue or they’ll give you a cup of tea and as they put it down say “you’re welcome” before I have chance to say “thank you” and I doubt whether it’s working at all.
I can be stubbornly determined at times and because I’m not here for long I want to leave feeling like I’ve done something worth everyone’s time-but perhaps wanting to cram in and “achieve” too much causes more damage than good. I guess I’ve learnt you have to be guided by your students and not your own pride to do what you set out to do. So I’m learning to slow down a little.

The IDEX staff that I teach are top though-enthusiastic, funny and entertaining. With the higher level groups I learn more from then than they will ever learn from me -the rules of cricket, the ups and downs of development in India, women in India, education, food, politics, religion and the caste system. The lower level groups, so the cooks for example, are the most challenging group as some are illiterate, have never been in education and for one girl, Sunita, Hindi isn’t even her first language. Lessons are constantly interactive, energy consuming and fun. Sometimes it’s only me and Sunita in class and even with the language divide we still find ourselves giggling singing and dancing in the kitchen-“we dance in the kitchen” and when we make chai it’s a good time to revise “crush” and “ginger”- “I crush the ginger”. It’s hard work but a lot of fun and let’s face it, I prefer a challenge and to be busy than feel unstimulated and bored.


I’d love to be able to say that I feel changed or that I’m going to come home a “different person” but I must admit my experience in India hasn’t exactly been a spiritual one full of enlightenment, de-toxing and meditation. It’s been, in all honesty really fun and very indulgent. The food is so tasty that I don’t worry about how much I eat, I tend to get seconds and going to the sweet shop at the end of the street to buy a lassi has become nearly a daily ritual. The closest I’ve got to anything that goes much deeper than that is sitting on a camel on a tourist trap camel trek feeling all “one with nature”-in the middle of the desert, sleeping under the moon etc etc! It’s riiite, next time I come to India I’ll go on a spiritual journey, find myself, achieve enlightenment and go clubbing with the Dalai Lama whilst I’m at it and come home annoying calm and at peace with myself.....but for this trip, I’m going to carry on savouring it all and come home a few pounds heavier and a tan line instead.

Hot. Hustle. Bustle.

Calum left yesterday to teach at another Idex camp in Himachal. I’m excited for him (and it’ll be a lot cooler up in the mountains-the jammy dodger) but it does shift things quite a bit for me. Obviously socially it changes things as I live and work with him and he’s become a good friend so I’ll miss having someone to pull silly faces with over breakfast. It then also means the reins are in my hands in terms of teaching/organising it all etc. But it also shifts things as I was almost instantly dependent on Calum when I landed up as he had already been here for a month or so and I got used to doing things with a side-kick. I can be stubbornly independent at the best of times so frustrating to admit that it feels a bit un-nerving to start doing things on my own-especially as a woman. I’m still getting used to being stared at and having passing comments said to me as I walk down the street-a rickshaw driver even said “you are sexy” when I got out of a rickshaw recently. I just glared at him and stormed off wondering what he thought he would achieve by saying that. It does make me feel a bit un-easy, well more uncertain really, of how to “be” as a woman. It’s strange because I don’t really think about it at home. I just am-and my gender feels irrelevant somehow. I had a coffee with Kabir (really sound local guy Calum introduced me to) and I was chatting to him about it and he told me the “do’s” and “don’ts” and things I should avoid doing which will make me look “available”-like drinking alone in a bar for example. Don’t worry I’m not being a total dingbat and oblivious to everything, walking around in hot pants and crop tops down a dark alley at 3am-I’m just still working out the balance between being overly cautious and guarded and being too blasé and relaxed and therefore putting myself into unnecessarily silly situations. I do feel safe here and a lot of the time people are just staring out of curiosity but it does feel strange when you can feel eyes on you, regardless of what the intentions are. I also feel cautious to generalise after the “you are sexy” rickshaw driver encounter for example, especially when all the men I work and live with never make me feel uneasy or uncomfortable-in fact they’ve all played a massive part in making me feel at home so quickly. Regardless of what city I’m in, there’s good and bad. It’s just harder to spot where you’re in an unfamiliar place. I guess, I just have to have my wits about me without shutting myself off to it all.

I have predictably fallen in love with India though-it’s like yep, I already know I need to come back. I know I’m going to miss bouncing around in a rickshaw taking in the sights of empty billboards full of birds, fading colourful writing on the side of buildings, jewellery shops,people having a shave on the side of the road, rickshaw drivers asleep in their rickshaws, donkeys and carts-I even saw an elephant plodding down Tonk Road the other evening!! But the initial honeymoon “seeing everything through rose-tinted glasses” phase has passed now so, as predicted, the annoyances have set in. I think the main thing is the heat. Even local people I work with are feeling it-it’s getting hotter every day and everyone keeps warning me that “this is nothing”. It is going to get HOT. I think it’s making me ill already though. This week I’ve been sick a few times. Only ever in the middle of the night or early hours of the morning for some reason but being sick is disgusting isn’t it?! I’m a bit soft and always feel a bit panicky when I’m being sick (don’t laugh, Ben!) It’s just un-natural for the contents of your stomach to come out of your mouth!! I can’t complain because everyone’s in the same boat and most people have, or have had, it a LOT worse than me.
But even so when you’re hot, dehydrated, tired and queasy it makes you so much more sensitive to everything else. When I’m ill everything annoys me: mosquito bites and being kept awake at night by the need to scratch and heat induced dreams of crowd surfing at parties, water parks, mazes and airports; my leaking toilet; broken flip-flops; nose-bleeds, power cuts; rickshaw drivers getting lost; the lack of peace and quiet. Oh that’s the other main annoyance after the heat.....

Jaipur is a loud and bustling city with constant beeping, drumming, whistling, screeching-even in the house there’s the TV on full blast, the doorbell ringing, music playing and everyone shouting around the house. There are 3 floors and if anyone wants to talk to anyone they’ll shout from the bottom of the stairs all the way up to the kitchen on the roof- “Umaaaajjjjiiiii!!”-until they get a response. Sometimes I sit on the roof to try and get some quiet and it can be quite peaceful-Umaji may be there singing to herself as she cooks and I can just drift into my book with the breeze and the birds singing in the background.....and then a couple of staff will turn up with music blasting from their phones whilst having a really loud conversation over your head as you read. It actually made me smile writing that though! Whilst it’s annoying when you’re in a crabby mood and want peace-it makes the house feel colourful, alive and warm somehow and it’s just part and parcel of living here. Thankfully though there’s a beautiful pool in a hotel nearby I can go to at the weekends to read and relax which has beautiful gardens with peacocks roaming around...and just peace! It’s heaven to get out of rickshaw and walk through the gates! Silence!

So yes the only major hang ups so far are the heat and the struggle to find silence. But that will feel insignificant when I look back on all this. I can imagine just remembering key things-like rushing through the crowd at the Gangour festival we went to with Carloline and Roma to try and get a better view of the parade. Roma asked a family if we could stand on their roof to get a better view and they warmly invited us in-so we quickly took our sandals off and scuffled up their stairs (catching a glimpse of their lives as we ran through the rooms) all the way up to the roof to catch the camels and elephants moving through this colourful mass of people with a view of Jaipur and mountains in the background. Their son told me riddles as we ate sweets and looked at the crowd. (what sport do you win when you take a step back?.........tug of war). There’s a thousand little moments like that but you’re eyes will turn square if I carry on. Incredible India alright. It’s loud. It's hot. It’s bustling. It’s tasty, colourful and smells amazing (apart from the odd whiff of urine on the streets). It confuses the hell out of me sometimes but I’m enjoying being kept on my toes!

Camels, chai and cricket

So I’ve been in Jaipur for just over a week now and as you’d expect it’s flown by. Whilst I felt instantly ignorant as soon as I landed in Delhi and everything is new and some things feel totally alien to me-India felt strangely familiar straight away. When I first got off the plane in Delhi I expected to feel a massive shock to the system but perhaps I was too zombified from the journey to feel anything or maybe it’s because all planes/airports feel pretty much the same. I did find myself delaying leaving the familiarity of the airport though. I bought a coffee, bought a sim card (which meant filling in a massive form complete with a photocopy of my visa and passport, a passport picture and signing about 5 different pieces of paper....all just to buy a sim!?!) and then followed a similar procedure just to get a taxi into town. My first experience of bureaucratic India! I then expected to feel a massive wave of culture shock as soon as I stepped out of the airport but as soon as I got in the taxi I fell asleep! On the bus journey to Jaipur I half took in the new smells and views of cows, camels and rickshaws but if it wasn’t for the constant beeping and what seemed like, near car crashes, I would have fallen fast asleep! So I’m still waiting for “it” to hit me.

Just to give you more background on what I’m doing here-I’m working for idex ( network for development exchange) with Calum (another intern from Stevenage) to teach English to the idex staff as an internship-the cooks, managers, administrators, cleaners and drivers etc in order for them to communicate with the volunteers easier. I haven’t actually started putting this into practice yet as I’ve been cracking on with the admin work that has building up-I’m basically working on a system of tracking volunteer’s feedback of their experiences and creating reports so the managers can monitor what areas need to be improved. It’s actually really interesting-not only reading the feedback-but getting a behind the scenes view of how such a big company runs and the endless amount of things you have to consider. It’s also interesting working in the office and having banter with everyone-breaking away from work every now and then to drink some chai and discuss bollywood films, women’s empowerment, the Indian census, literacy rates etc. It means I’m constantly learning new things every day. And once I start teaching it’ll be interesting in a totally different way. Teaching sat on a floor of mattresses without the constraints of a whiteboard and tables and chairs. It’s liberating in one way but intimidating in another. It means you have to think on your feet and not rely too heavily on pre-planned lessons (as things are very changeable here as I’m sure you can imagine). Calum seems to have it nailed as I’ve sat in a few of his lessons so it definitely can be done-but I’m looking forward to giving it a go myself.

Me and Calum live in a big house known as the high school house (as it’s usually used for European high school kids to stay on the high school exchange program) about a ten minute rickshaw journey away the idex office.We live with Dinesh and Umaji who cook breakfast and dinner for us every day. It’s quite a cushy set up really as we have our own room and bathroom area (bucket bath again like Ghana but indoors/private and if you have one if the afternoon the water’s quite warm), dining area on the roof, area to wash our clothes out the back, a TV to watch cricket/bollywood films and even internet. Maybe this is another reason why I’ve not felt a culture shock as such, because I’ve got everything I need and I don’t feel disconnected from anyone at home. Oh and the food is amazing, as you’d predict-tasty, filling and varied-perfect place for a vegetarian! I’m coming home FAT!
Even though I’ve not had one tidal wave/slap across the face “oh my god-I’m in India” moment, I keep getting little waves of contentment and realisation that I’m here: walking around the craft market in the evening browsing the stalls selling materials, shoes and puppets with live music in the background, the smell of incense and spices, passing a guy wearing a turban with a big twirly moustache playing two pennywhistles through his nostrils with a big smile on his face; on a rooftop bar when India beat Pakistan, appreciating the breeze with a Kingfisher as everyone chanted and cheered and fireworks went off all around Jaipur; feeling like I was in an American teen film at a pool party with a pool with turquoise water, a DJ, candles, waiters and a bathtub full of ice to put drinks in; watching the final in the living room with Dinesh and finally getting the rules of cricket in the final hour of the game and finding myself going mental when India actually won (i’ve got the cricket bug now)......there’s obviously a lot of moments like this as I’ve only been here under two weeks so every day I’ll encounter something entirely out of the ordinary. I'm guessing soon it’ll be less of a novelty and annoyances will creep in, so at the moment I’m just letting myself soak it all in and allowing things to become slowly more familiar to me bit by bit.