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Song of the Day for Sunday, October 24th: "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

Yesterday I spent the entire day with six delightful friends, eating, drinking, watching, laughing, and dance-partying. It is so rare to have a day like that, where no one is rushing off to go anywhere--everyone is just there, content with hanging out, contributing to the happiness.

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros are a relatively new band in my orbit, but this song is great, and corresponds perfectly with yesterday; sometimes Home is just where ever I'm with you.

Check it here on Daytrotter.

Key lyrics:
Alabama Arkansas I sure Love my Ma and Pa
But not the way that I do Love you

Well, Holy Moly Me oh My
You're the apple of my eye
Girl I never loved one like you

Man o Man you're my best friend I scream it to the nothingness
that we got everything we need

Hot and Heavy pumpkin pie
Chocolate candy Jesus Christ
Aint nothin' please me more than you

Home, yeah we are Home
Home is Whenever I'm with you
Home, yes we are Home
Home is wherever I'm with you

Lalalala Take me Home
Mama I'm Coming Home

I follow you into the park, thru the jungle thru the dark
Girl I never loved one like you

Moats and boats and Waterfalls, Alleyways and payphone calls
I sure been everywhere with you

Laugh until we think we'll die, barefoot on a summer night
never could be sweeter than with you

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.

Dublin does not disappoint

Dublin, June 29th - July 2nd, 2009

Ireland.

A destination I had looked forward to for at least a year and a half. Initially, I had planned to celebrate my 30th birthday here, in the land famous for the whiskey I love and the red-bearded men I fancy. Instead, I found myself there two weeks after my birthday, meeting my friend Patti from Denver and her son Reed.

I made it to Dublin with relative ease in the afternoon, navigating from the airport to the bus to the hotel smoothly, but having just missed Patti and Reed due to a late flight. Undeterred, I attempted to walk to meet them at the restaurant they were at, but instead, feeling a bit lost, hailed a friendly van-taxi driven by a delightful man. In a few minutes I found them, and after an unsuccessful venture to the Guiness Storehouse, which was closed for the afternoon, young Reed decided to go back to the hotel while Patti and I caught up over a few beers.

Senor with our first brews in Dublin.

It wasn't long before our wandering landed us to the unmistakenly touristy yet enjoyable Quay's Pub with live music played by a duo consisting of some kind of flutist and guitarist, and where my Magic Greek hat seemed to pinpoint me as the Lady Most Likely to be Willing to Dance with the Old Men. Never shying away from an opportunity to dance with old men before, I quickly obliged.

Delightful Irish jig players.

We soon continued on, first landing in a bar/club called Noo Bar that was having a free BBQ and met two brothers who owned a small pub in the area called O'Donoghue's and again we shifted there. We hung for an hour or so, with them telling us to look them up the next day, and knowing well we wouldn't. Dublin in a few hours time had already shown promised charm.

After getting some needed sustenance the next morning:

we headed again to the Guiness Storehouse, which is one of the best beer tours I've been done, which I think to that point in my life consisted of four. It was self-guided, there was an indoor waterfall, and best of all you sip your cold brew at the end of the tour in a window-filled room overlooking the city. It also doesn't hurt to have your beer toppeed off with a foamy four-leaf clover.

Hops on the tour.

The three of us, very contented.

Oh Guinness! You great brew.

This was pretty sweet.

I've been a long fan of the Guiness advertising campaigns, and was most impressed with the display they had of all the marketing tactics over the years that impress on so many of our minds that, yes indeed, life is better with a Guiness.

Later that afternoon, Patti had arranged a short bus tour out of the city where we toured Maldive Castle and admired its beautiful grounds, and had delicious coffee and dessert in the grass. We also drove to one of the richest smaller towns outside of Dublin, Howth, and even got a view of islands? in Dublin Bay where Bono and S'nead o'Connor have residences. This small taste outside of the city was enough for me to envision a trip where I returned, car rented, three weeks of open road before me, and nothing but Ireland to explore.

On the grounds of Maldive castle.

Coffee and castles, in my element.

View of where Bono lives, way over Yonder. I decided not to call on him this time around.

After an early dinner of fish n chips, that night Patti and I attempted to see some live music, and went to a Lonely Planet recommended pub, Hughes Bar, that did indeed have music, but it was more a private practice session, and the bar was so bloody hot that after one pint we were ready to head back in for the night.

The next day I made it to the Jameson distillery though, where I earned my diploma in Jameson tasting. Plus, you know it's going to be an interesting day once you've had your first cocktail before 11. I met Reed and Patti at Wagamama for lunch, and wondered why there isn't one in Denver. We then proceeded to tour the Book of Kells on the beautiful and famed Trinity College campus (but sorry, no photos inside).

Who says I wasn't studying important things in Dublin?

Our final night in Dublin we had a delicious dinner at a tapas place, and an interesting interaction with a passerby who asked if he could have some of our food (we were sitting at an outdoor table), and before we could react, stole food off our plate and ran. The owner spotted this, and brought us some food to replace what was snatched. We wrapped up the night in Temple Bar area again, but this time were not too into the bar, and after watching our favorite street musicians for the third time in three days, turned in.

Think bluegrass/funk/rock/fun.

I'd seen plenty of Dublin in a few days, and my short time there did make me realize I will return to Ireland when I have more time and a chance to get beyond the city limits. I was ready to move on to The Netherlands where I knew the people would be tall and I hadn't been in over 10 years.

Part of the beauty just outside of Dublin.

No worries, if you don't come back to Ireland, he'll cut you.

Wrapping April in Mumbai

April 15-30th, 2009, Bombay, Maharashtra India

Following a month of travel, I spent most of the last two weeks of April volunteering again at the Khar Danda school at One! International. It was great to see the kids again and to meet some of the volunteers who had arrived while I was gone, including Amy from Canada, Shawn from North Carolina, and Norman from Australia, who were all lots of fun. Those two weeks I also found time to read several books and enjoy being back in Bombay—in one place--for some time, all the while I continued to plan upcoming travel for when my friend Randy came and my brother Bryan in May.

A few days after I returned, we took about a dozen of the younger kids at the school to do a program with some other young students at The American School in Bombay, which is the school that all the children of various diplomats from around the world who are working in Bombay attend. The facilities at the school were impressive, surpassing many schools I have seen in the U.S., and the kids had a lot of fun going there, even though some of them were cold because of the high levels of A.C. that were pumping out in the building. The kids danced to Jai Ho! A song from Slumdog Millionaire, and really did a great job.

Practicing for Jai Ho!

I spent a lot of my time at school tutoring Sunil, our oldest student and also the first from One! International to take the 10th grade exam, which in India you must pass to go onto college. We were studying computers—a book on Windows 95, to be exact (I kid you not) but he was a very diligent scholar, and despite the fact that he insisted that over and over again “Didi, sooooo many cards!” (I made him a lot of flash cards) his hard work was paying off. Plus when he did well, he was able to play some songs off of my computer, favorites being the “Na Na Na” song by Akon and various Bollywood numbers. Also around the same time, one of the older girls at the school who is around 16 named Dilshad had been watching my habit of buying a samosa from my favorite Samosa Men after school each day; concerned, she told me “Didi, very bad for the health to eat a samosa everyday. I did and I got sick. Very bad. Every few days, but not every day.” Turning red, I knew she was right—and I loved that she called me out on it. I cut back on the samosas after that (but not completely).

So you know that I wasn't just being studious and diligent during this time, I also joined in some dance parties with the other volunteers from One! We found that the Boat Club in Bandra, seemingly has theme nights, or at least sometimes they change the posters on the wall—my favorite being when we showed up and there were framed rap/hip hop stars everywhere—nothing like seeing Snoop and Fifty Cent adorning the walls in India. Regardless of the music played that night though, it seemed that a fog machine was often involved. We danced there right before Amy went back to Canada, and again before Shawn went back to the U.S.





Though being back in Bombay was nice for a sense of stability, my body wasn't used to riding in the Riks again with all the pollution, and I got what I think was my fourth or fifth bad cold. That, however, didn't stop me from traveling to the Hill Station of Matheran with some friends from the Hash running club the last Saturday in April. Matheran is about 3 hours south of Bombay, and up a very windy road—the catch is though, motorized vehicles are prohibited after a certain point, so the last 45 minutes you have to either walk, or ride a horse. We chose to walk, and met about 10 other Hashers and stayed in a bungalow for the night before the run. Being sick, I spent much of the afternoon resting, but did rally to meet a few American Hashers who were traveling through and joined our group. What I thought was going to be a quiet night quickly turned when my friend Elizabeth's friend Mary Lou revealed she had brought karaoke. The TV was wheeled out onto the patio and the monkeys all around us settled in for a concert, as the night air soon filled with raspy renditions of the familiar words of Bryan Adams (Summer of 69), Cher, Britney Spears, Journey, and the list went on and on (for about three hours, I think). It was good fun, and the run did not disappoint the next day either, as the route took us to one particularly breathtaking panoramic view of the surrounding landscape of hills and valleys.

Though the red clay dirt (a trademark of Matheran) stained my shoes beyond recovery, and the ice was late so our beer was a bit warm, I fought off my cold and busted out the wigs for the first time in India, where they were very well received. We also turned the blocks of ice into a literally very cool slip n slide.


The 30th of April was voting day in Bombay, and elections in India are run with a surprising efficiency that lacks in so many other areas of the country. I walked down with Sunitha and her family in the morning to the polling place a few minutes from their house, and their fingers were promptly stamped with ink as to prevent voter fraud. Results are not revealed for a few weeks after the elections, however, but voter turnout here is actually very high, with lots of the poor coming out in droves to cast their ballots. A few photos below showcasing a bit of the action.

Elephanta Monkey Fights & Chicken Tikka Street Rolls

Thursday March 26th, Friday March 27th, Saturday March 28h

The next day we had to head back to Mumbai, but unfortunately landed in the thick of rush hour traffic, so making our way to Colaba (downtown Mumbai) took much longer than planned. I got us an AC taxi that was run by an all-female cab service from the airport, but our driver said she knew where to go when she didn’t (a typical Indian thing to do, I have noticed) and also talked the ENTIRE TIME on her mobile. It was when I realized my increasing level of impatience that I had to laugh and think, maybe I did, indeed need two days lying on the beach instead of just one. After all, having the BA (bad attitude) wasn’t going to get us there any faster.

We didn’t make the movie we hoped for that night, but we did go to the famed Leopold’s Café for a great dinner and then walked around the area where India Gate is and the Taj Hotel. We also were approached to be extras in a Bollywood movie shooting the next day, but we already had full plans so passed that up (I still hope to do this while I am here though!)

The next day took us to Elephanta Island in the morning, which is about an hour boat ride from the Gateway of India and is an island full of ancient caves and sculptures of famed Indian Gods, as well as lots of monuments to Shiva (which all are very, very phallic). We chatted up some fellow Americans on the way there (including one from Minnesota), and ended up getting a local guide, Nitin, to show us around the caves which turned out to be worthwhile as he proved to be a skilled photographer as well. We also were able to see several monkeys and even a monkey fight (which yes, I did get on video). This little guy also really liked Sour Cream and Onion chips.

MONKEY FIGHT

He loves Salty Snacks just like me.

Shiva Shrine

OMMMMMMMMMMMMM

I snapped a lot of photos at Elephanta; there are a few below for your viewing pleasure. This includes photos of a hen and her chicks (yes, my fascination and love for animals has yet to wane) as well as a replica of the Eiffel Tower, my second in two weeks. Perhaps Paris is indeed calling me back?

Yes, we had lunch here.

After Elephanta, we hit up Jehangir Art Gallery, did a bit of shopping, than rested for an hour before we headed to see a movie. We had hoped to see a Bollywood flick, but near where we were staying was a new, renowned drama called Videsh (and no Bollywood flick) so we tried it; turns out it was an uplifting film on domestic violence. DOH! I felt terrible about the choice, but Jes, champ that she is, rolled with it. We then headed to Café Modegar where we met up with Harsh and Vinu. Café Modegar is a tourist and seemingly popular locals hot spot, with entertaining murals on the walls, see for yourself:


The night brought us to a place called Henry Thams, where an Indian guy who I think lives in the UK was spinning some crazy music; we had to wait to get in, pay a cover, and once in fight the crowd, but it was hip and urban at its finest. Not the type of place I would likely hit up back in Denver but it was a great time and we got to sit in huge, Alice in Wonderland type chairs!


Once closing time hit, we were pleasantly surprised to find we could stay later and exited through the kitchen around 3:30 a.m. But the fun didn’t end there--as the guys walked us back to the hotel, a restaurant had seemingly sprung up from the earth, and I was privy to what was the closet thing to a burrito I have eaten since my arrival in India. Alas, if only the man who makes those Chicken Tikka Rolls knew he holds the key to my heart with those tasty treats of his.

Saturday was Jes’ last day in India, and we headed to the ‘hood (AKA Sunitha’s) for some great lunch and a (rented) Bollywood flick. We had a whirlwind week and I was sad to see Jes go that night, but more so I was elated she had made the trip! There really is nothing like seeing someone close to you show up in a foreign land; it provides a sense of stability and normalcy that you might not even have realized had been missing, and I am really grateful to her for that. (Plus, we got to party it up!)