You don't get love, you give it

When I was traveling last year, I read a lot of books.

One of those books was "Shantaram" by Gregory David Roberts. It's a mammoth book, a colossal undertaking of 944 pages that I braved largely because it was based in my newly-adopted hometown of Mumbai (Bombay), India. Like the author, I too had relocated there, though admittedly on much tamer circumstances. I bought the book on the second day of a 9 day trek in Nepal (after realizing Twilight #2 was nowhere to be found). I still shoulder some guilt for having our 16-year old porter Norbu carry it all those miles.

There's a line in the book, where Roberts ends one of the chapters by writing "You don't get love, you give it." At the time, I wrote it off for a cliche statement. But it has stuck with me since that quiet day in May when I read it, and I find myself lately reflecting back on one of the most amazing years of my life, and realizing just how true it is.

I've been fortunate enough to meet people throughout this year, and have experiences, that I would never have had the courage to even attempt in the first place without the support of so many family and friends. I've found myself thinking a lot about giving versus getting love, as I have been lucky enough to be the recipient of so much love, often when I didn't even deserve it.

Selflessly and completely, people have seriously shown me the love this year. And I keep wondering if I've done the same in return.

Several people have asked me what the highlights were of my time abroad, and one of the first things that comes to mind is my experience teaching in Bombay. The children I taught there are amazing, and as much as I love them, I feel like they gave me so much more love, unconditionally and without question, even while having so little, that it wasn't nearly a fair trade (though I did teach them what "totally awesome" meant, so I tried to show my appreciation on some level).

My entire adventure would not have been possible without my friend Sunitha and her husband Ashwyn who welcomed me not as a guest in their home, but as part of their family. I'm yet to figure out a proper repayment for their kindness, generosity, and sharing of their wealth of knowledge about Bombay (specifically its fine foods, both at home and eating out!) To have that time to spend with Sunitha again was priceless; I hope someday I will have a home as awesome as theirs to host them in (and maybe even on a beach, too!) and try and live up to the high bar that is Indian hospitality.

I'm not sure I ever explained how much it meant to me that friends and family came to visit me--Jessie, Bryan, and Randy--and experience the craziness of India firsthand, but the random motorcycle rides in the dark, the beers for breakfast, and the photo collages of food in Nepal and India will not soon be forgotten. For those friends I traveled with outside of India--Libby, Abdullah, Patti, Sarah and Gareth--the nights out in Mykonos, the kufte in Istanbul, the brewery tours in Ireland/Holland, the MeatBowl in Melbourne all still bring a smile to my face.

The list goes on of all the people who have given me so much love: the D-town winos, who got me bacon when I was fresh off the plane back in Denver in August; Annie K, not only for keeping my car but always being there to listen to all my random boy stories; Carolyn for watching my plants and being a shoulder to lean on; my parents for supporting me even when they think I'm crazy (which, I think is a majority of the time); Maria for encouraging me not to get a real job and to travel more; Jeffy Peeps for being my favorite Peoples; Joe for sending me Newsweeks and Economists in the mail; Nanu for telling me that no one would judge me if I decided I hated India and decided to go home early; Phil for hooking us up with Pemba Sherpa in Nepal; and for everyone that sent me a message while I was gone, that I've seen since I've gotten back over coffee, whiskeys, lunches or beers; who read my blog and (hopefully) enjoyed it; it's been amazing for me to have you all along for the ride the last year with me, through the ups and downs, the rik-shaws and the cows, the dance parties and the sunrises.

I come back to the statement again; with all this love I'm getting, is it true that you don't really get it, but give it?

And then, January 8th marked one year since I departed Denver and flew to Mumbai, unsure of what life held for me but extremely excited, apprehensive, and happy. Now I find myself a few days into the new year, feeling similar, but for so many different reasons. My home is again in Denver, though I haven't had my own "home" yet, as I have been so lucky to have friends like Todd, Emily, Angelique, and Patti that have let me lean on them and literally put a roof over my head. For their graciousness, I am ever grateful. I've reconnected with old friends and met new ones, and set down temporary roots with a new job. My wanderlust hasn't waned, but for right now, I am trying to keep it in check (though trips to South Dakota, Minneapolis, Iowa, and soon Phoenix worked themselves into my itinerary quickly in the nearly five months since I've been back).

When I was in India, my friend Jim and I in Denver wrote snail mail letters back and forth (which were a guarantee to wipe out any inkling of homesickness each time I got one). In one of those letters in February, I remember writing him about how happy I was at that moment, being in India, floundering but exploring, pushing my boundaries, encompassed by novelty and sensory overload and cows and garbage and color. I'm pretty sure the next day I was probably cursing India and all its headaches and shortcomings and lack of infrastructure. But at that moment, as I wrote to my good buddy, my perspective wasn't tainted. It was filled with love of my situation, my experience, my adventure. I was letting the love in, and giving it back.

The journey I set out on last year may have come full circle, as a new one is just beginning. And for that I am extraordinarily grateful. Because of all the things I learned, one of the most important was to not be afraid to give love. I've learned that if you do give it, you may find yourself lucky enough to get it, too. And I hope, out of all the books I've read over the years, I carry that message I came across in Shantaram with me in all my adventures yet to come.

All good things must end

July 26 - August 18, 2009 Mumbai & Lonavla, India

My last three weeks in India were bittersweet.

I moved from my friend Sunitha's house to the apartment with the volunteer housing. Since I would be teaching full time at both the school in the city and one in Nallasopara, a northern suburb. To say I was moving to a polar opposite place could not have been more accurate, and as Terri, a fellow volunteer commented when he helped me haul my stuff to the new apartment: "You DO know what it looks like, right?"

I did, and I was excited for this change for the last bit of time I spent in Mumbai.

My last few weeks were tiring, but mostly happy. I would leave for a full day of teaching either at the Khar Danda school, which was a 10 minute rik ride away, or prepare to go to Nallasopara, which involved the following steps:


1. Rik to train station: 10 minutes
2. Buy train ticket: 1-5 minutes
3. Wait for train/eat salty snacks for breakfast: 10 minutes
4. Get on correct train in women's compartment for 50 minutes
5. Exit train, find Shankar (fellow teacher) to meet and walk to another rik: 5-10 minutes
6. Rik to slum: 10-15 minutes
7. Walk from edge of slum to school, 15 minutes
8. Teach all day
9. Repeat commute, but in reverse
Below are several photos from those last few weeks at Nallasopara and at Khar:

All smiles at Nallasopara, though I am pretty sure this wasn't my demeanor the whole day, but it certainly was his!

Sunil at Khar Danda school; soooooooo many computer flashcards we studied!

Milk store on the way to/from Khar School.

Good carrier truck, common scene in the slums and on the regular roads. This one is in Nallasopara.

This awesome kid and I learned "U" is for unicorn. I love this photo of him.

Thanks to my friend Joe in Denver for sending me news magazines; little Sapna especially liked this one.

Deepak, one of the oldest boys at Khar school. He does a MEAN rendition of "Lean on Me."

As i took this photo, one of the students reminded me, "Leah Didi, that's a cow." Yes, indeed.

On my last day at Nallasopara. Pencils and Bananas, naturally! I love the girl in the background.

Much time was spent the last few weeks dodging the huge rats in the alleyways between the buildings that lead to the Internet "store" from the apartment, catching up with friends I had missed while traveling in Europe, and going out and meeting new friends, and some new guys, too. I knew soon enough I would be another tallish, blondish girl in America, so I took advantage of the attention and met some interesting fellas. I never would have experienced Indian karaoke, or sang "Summer of '69" to a boisterous crowd, if I hadn't met Senthil, or had the chance to dance to Akon until 3:30 a.m. if not for Chirag, Harsh and Mehir (my running club buddies), or stay up til sunrise, walk to Juhu beach with 7 others and drink from a coconut; the same sand where just two months before I was running to train for the half marathon in England. I also met up with Afreen, a woman who was at the Vipassana meditation with me who's from California, and we had a most interesting dinner at BBQ Nation, a popular, albeit pricey, restaurant. Finally, I made sure to take advantage of the spa in Mumbai one last time; an eyebrow threading (rather than wax) comes out to less than $1 there (some things I do really miss about India).

Some more photos from school:

"Kushboo's best friend Leah" awwww

He smiled ALWAYS, except for this snap.

Seriously, so composed!

And then, 5 seconds later! Happiness!

Swine flu caused me to miss my last few days with my kids at Khar, which I was way bummed out, but teacher Mahendra and I poked some fun of it my last day at Nallasopara.

A group of the youngest kids at Nallasopara!

My last weekend in India I spent in Lonavla, a few hours out of Mumbai, with the Hash running club. Being monsoon season, we still ran, even in the pouring rain. We also had two nights of dance parties and a late night drive up the mountain side, listening to M.I.A. and the Black-Eyed Peas will not be soon forgotten. It was the last day of the weekend when I was christened with my Hash Name "Slum Bitch" in honor of my teaching stint, and riding back to the city with Harsh, Chirag and Mehir I wondered when I would see them again, but I never wondered IF I would. Harsh and Chirag especially were great friends to me when I was in Mumbai, sharing in several adventures, and without which my experience would have been very different. Thank goodness I love to learn from books, and read a book that mentioned the Hash House Harriers. And thank goodness for Facebook, that I know what they're doing all the time.

Mehir and Harsh on our first run of the weekend.

Sad faces cuz I'm going back to the states.

Mehir and road cow!

Me and the boys.

Lonavla beauty.

I took a rik from the volunteer apartments after the guys dropped me off (after a few last beers) and headed to Sunitha's, as she would be taking me to the airport the next day. I spent the last day having a samosa at my favorite sweet shop, Tewari Brothers, and checking my email at good old Reliance World, even with their crap customer service, they did allow me to Skype.

It was with mixed feelings I packed and prepared to leave. I was really calm though; I knew it was time to go, and I knew what would await me as all the adventures I had did not come cheap, and realized I would have to get a job when I returned.

I wasn't worried though; I was happy. Happy to have been in India, happy to be leaving for the next chapter of my life, and happy to know that even though I was leaving friends behind I would be returning to so many I missed.

Sunitha escorted me to the airport, and while it was sad to say goodbye to her, she joked we'd have a reunion at some point, likely at my wedding (which may very well be in 50 years). I couldn't help laugh though, as just three weeks earlier when I left Vipassana my rik driver had told me "You are not Married! NOOOO! How old are you? 30!?! Oh my. Next year, I know this. You return to India, with your husband. You will be married then. Then you will find me, and I will be SOOOOOOOOOO happy! Yes, this I know, because you have a good spirit! You will be happy with husband yes!"

As I got out of the rik, hugged Suni and took in my last gulp of humid, Bombay-polluted air I turned and smiled. I had survived India, and India had survived me. And who knows what next year will bring...but I couldn't wait to find out.

Some of my favorite kids, coloring break, Khar Danda school, Mumbai, India.

Hanging in The Hague

The Hague, July 2nd - July 4th, 2009

When my friend Patti and I discussed meeting up in Ireland and The Netherlands, she mentioned wanting to visit The Hague. With which I responed, what's The Hague?

I was ignorant of the existence of the city that houses the World Court. It intrigued me though, and since Patti offered to make the travel arrangements and I'm always up for going to new places, I thought the idea sounded great.

So we headed from Dublin in a short flight to The Motherland, where my ancestors hailed, The Netherlands. Arriving with few incidents and greeted with warm weather, we exchanged some money and got on a bus to head over to our hotel. It didn't take long to have an incident though, as a scooter ran into our bus, and took off--it was the scotter's fault--and we ended up transferring buses.

View of what we saw when we existed the train in The Hague.

Our hotel ended up being a few short tram stops from more action in the city, but after dumping our stuff, Patti and I headed out for some dinner. Immediately it was apparent that this city had flavor--people from what seemed like all corners of the globe were gathered at outdoor restaurants and cafes, dining and laughing and conversing in a varied assortment of languages. We secured a table and settled in, and quickly determined we needed to shift our hotel the next day to where more of the action was.

Lobby outside our first hotel in The Hague before transferring to the second.

We headed the next day to the Gementee Museum, which is quite possibly the coolest, and most enjoyable museum I have ever visited. There was a wide array of exhibits, and Reed and I had an entirely fun time as we share an affinity of taking photographs. I also couldn't imagine a better companion than a 16-year-old who is on the same plane of goofiness as me to see such a place.

Stick 'em up, entreance of the Gemeente Museum, The Hague

RARRRRR!

Reed in the red room

Welcome to the glass house

Dutch girl in the red room

Tree painting in The Hague.

Reed in the dark.

That evening we met up with Patti's longtime friend Rosita who was a Dutch diplomat for years and became our tour guide for the evening. We headed to the boardwalk, and sitting near the ocean, enjoyed ice cream, sangria, and a summer evening in a city I had never heard of a few months before but was now wishing I had more time to explore.

Pretty much this excited every time I have ice cream, especially with sprinkles.

On the same bean bag!

Public toilets to discourage public urination. Brilliant!

Dutch sunset.

Later that evening we headed to a bar closer to the hotel and had some tasty Dutch bar snacks. Very important cultural experience, and extremely delicious.

Awesome.

The next day I walked over to the public library and donated my last copy of Twilight, "Breaking Dawn", before going to visit the World Peace Flame with Reed and Patti. We also saw a group on a bachelor party pub crawl where the groom was dressed as a sumo wrestler, but I sadly missed the photo opp. I did however get a pic with myself and a windmill. The last afternoon in The Hague was spent wandering, tasting some herring it's known for, and enjoying a beautiul Saturday. Soon though, it was time to board the train for Amsterdam, where more adventure awaited.

World Peace Flame

Reed and the Herring Sandwich

Dutch girl, Dutch windmill

The Hague, Street View

Santorini, its sunsets and Captain Marcos

June 18th-June 20th, 2009

Whereas Mykonos was fun and beautiful, Santorini was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Arriving at the port, you are surrounded by rock face that seemingly shoots straight up--and sure enough, soon enough that is what you drive up to get to your hotel.

A popular spot for couples and honeymooners, it was appropriate that we crashed the party here, but it was also a welcome calm from Mykonos. More than anything for me, Santorini was marked by gorgeous sunsets and great food.

I seriously miss the feta and those Greek salads.

Santorini also has breathtaking beaches, but we didn't sunbathe on any here. We did see some that had the famous red sand though

Being rather spread out, the best way to see Santorini is again by renting a scooter or 4-wheeler. Our second 4-wheeler was just as fun as the first, and perhaps more comical as it did not have reverse so we had to push it everytime we wanted to back up.

One of my favorite stops on Santorini was Captain Marcos' restaurant. Our friend Jorgos that we had met on Mykonos used to live on Santorini and gave us the general location, and we were able to search it out. Basically, it is Captain Marcos and his wife's house, and we were the only people there, but they graciously obliged making us lunch of fresh (fried) fish, Greek salad, excellent white wine, and bread. (I think it was at this point my pants started getting much more snug).


We spent the rest of the day hitting up two wineries, spying on a cliff side wedding, and walking along a beautiful beach.


Before the day was over, we decided to drive up to Oia, the northernmost part of the island reknowned for its sunsets. Finding a poolside hotel, we sat back and enjoyed the amazing view.


The next day we joined a tour group for all day tour of Santorini, where we visited the Prophet Elias' Monastery, which is the highest point of the island and built in 1711, as well as Pygos Village.

Our tour continued with a boat ride to an active volcano that we got to hike around on for a bit, and also some hot springs that you could jump into from the boat (Libby took the plunge, I resisted based on my sub-par swimming skills).


Following a great seafood lunch of shrimp souvlaki, we boated over to again see the sunset at Oia. However, we landed at the base of the cliff, but had the option to take a donkey up the hill.

Of course, we took up that offer.

I am not sure if I have ever laughed as hard as when we rode the donkeys; the lady next to me was freaking out, and then the guy leading mine kept spanking the other donkeys. Overall, it was a high level of hilarity. However, we were a bit disappointed it did not bring us ALL The way to the top.

The evening wound down with more fun cocktails and this time, a windmill accenting our sunset.

Libby in the window giving a holla!

That night we were hungry for Mexican and despite our better judgment tried some Greek Mexican food. The guacamole was great, but the next day those choices were not quite so good. We left Santorini via ferry, with wine-filled, 4-wheeled memories and soon were to land on the mainland to see what Athens had in store for us.