A True Story

This is a tale of chance encounters and true love.

Yesterday, faced with the tragedy of an emptying kitchen, I stopped at the In-and-Out in Dharmsala on my way home from work. I sought only muesli, soy milk, cookies, and other such daily needs. Making my way down one of the two aisles, I found my soy milk and my breakfast, but then I saw it.

Tucked into a corner between the muesli and the instant idli mixes were the familiar blue and orange boxes from my childhood: Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. Seizing four boxes into my arms, I was swept away by the thrill of encountering my first love. It had braved all obstacles to find me in this remote part of the world.

Cookies forgotten, I took my Mac and Cheese to the counter, only to discover that it had been so recently stocked that no one knew what its price was supposed to be. While the two cashiers punched fruitlessly at their computers, searching for a price, I was joined at the counter by another foreign woman, also clutching a box of Mac & Cheese in her hands.

We exchanged feelings of mutual thrill at finding our beloved dinner on such an unlikely shelf. I admitted to having long finished off the supply of Mac & Cheese that my parents had mailed me while she lamented that, of the ten packets of cheese sauce she brought with her, very few were left.

She asked me if I was a fellow Canadian, as Canadians enjoy Mac & Cheese more than any other people in the world. I replied that I was a Minnesotan, but I may as well be Canadian for my love of Macaroni and Cheese.

Finally, the clerks discovered that each box was only 150 rupees, so we paid and parted ways, me with my macaroni and she with hers. Although the bus I rode home was one of the most crowded I have ever ridden and my bags were heavy with groceries, I hardly noticed, the lightness of excitement of my dinner date for that evening sending me floating home.

At home, I made my Macaroni & Cheese, and it was delicious.

His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama

Yesterday, I had the chance-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go hear the His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama give a teaching in McLeod Ganj. I attended with Vandana, the visiting Shansi fellow Erika, and her friend Barbara. Even before we could go, because of security reasons, we all had to register for the teachings. Erika and Babs took our passports and two passport sized photos to an office in McLeod, then returned with a little yellow card in Tibetan, with one of those photos and our registration information.

We met up on Monday morning and headed down to the temple together. I have never seen McLeod Ganj so packed full of people before. At the temple we went through a vigorous security scanning. Basically anything that isn't allowed on an airplane was not allowed in the temple, plus no cellphones, cameras, or other electronics, with the exception of little FM radios. The radios were necessary for translation. Then we all got a thorough pat-down before we were allowed to enter. Entertainingly, of the three security lines, one was for Tibetans, one was for monks and nuns, and one was for foreigners. Vandana, an Indian, was told to join us in the foreigner line. I am sure that was a first for her in her own country.

Even with our attempt to arrive early, hundreds of people had arrived before us already. The four of us found a place to sit on the ground in front of the temple, sitting on shawls or our shoes for a bit of cushion. Although we were not in a position to see His Holiness while he spoke up on the second level of the temple, we could see him enter and climb the stairs at the beginning as well as when he descended at the end. Just as in the photos, he looked unassuming with a warm, contagious smile. He was greeted with chanting and throat singing from the monks and Tibetans, then he started to speak.

He began the teachings in English, welcoming the special guests from Thailand who had requested the teaching and everyone else, then explaining what text he would be teaching from. Even with the speakers projecting his voice all over the temple compound, it was still very good to have our little FM radios that we had borrowed from Dr. Barbara. There were several local channels going: one for the Dalai Lama's speech, an English translator, a Thai translator, and probably a couple of others. We brought two radios and ear-bud headphones with us, but we quickly discovered that one of the radios did not work. Once he switched into lecturing in Tibetan, we scrambled to find the translation channel, then one of the two people sharing the headphones would have to repeat what she heard to the other two. That job usually fell to me or Vandana, though we traded off with the headphones. His Holiness did switch in and out English a couple of other times. His voice, even when I could not understand him, was deep and very pleasant to listen to.

His morning teachings went on for three hours. He gave a short history of Tibetan Buddhism, touched on its main points such as cultivating compassion, knowledge, and single-focused meditation. He then went on to talk about the relations of suffering and happiness to the other parts of life and how causes and outcomes, in a religious way, were related. He stressed again and again that the important practices and values of Buddhism appear in essentially all other world religions, but is a sense of morality and not a deity that prompts pious living in Buddhists.

During the talk, Tibetan bread and butter tea were served and blessed, then everyone ate and drank. The bread came around first, and we being stupid and hungry foreigners, ate ours right away. It wasn't until the tea was poured out for everyone that the Tibetans ate theirs, dipping it in the tea. Tibetan butter tea is an interesting experience, and not one I have ever partaken in outside of a temple. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it tastes like a cup of salty, melted butter. It is easier to think of it as a soup than a tea. That said, it was hard for me to drink without the bread to wash it down. The Tibetans sitting near us noticed that we didn't have any bread with their tea, so they broke their rolls in half and shared it with us. It was very sweet of them.

The teachings broke for lunch and His Holiness descended from the temple. A shiny new SUV pulled up into the temple, he got in with a bow and a wave, and he was driven away to his residence for lunch. No one clapped. People only put their palms together and bowed in a gesture of respect to him as he departed. His car was no more than 20 feet from where we sat.

Then, everyone mobbed for the main gate. Again, I marveled at just how crowded McLeod could get. The four of us got some lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around McLeod Ganj. We didn't realize that there were also teachings in the afternoon. That was alright, however, as Erika and I were starting to feel a bit sick and Vandana had to go back down to Sidhbari for a meeting at Jagori in the afternoon. There were teachings again today, but none of us went. Erika and Babs are on their way to Amritsar, Vandana is working, and I am taking a much needed day off.

I am really glad I finally got to go hear the Dalai Lama speak, after spending so much time living so close to his temple. It was a great introduction to Tibetan Buddhism for me. I feel like I understand their culture a lot better, even after listening to him speak for only three hours.

Women's Day 2011

Happy belated International Women's Day! As can be imagined, given the feminist nature of the organization I work with, there were many celebrations to be had this week. This year is the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day, so the events had to be particularly special. Officially, the day falls on March 8th each year. Nishtha held their celebration on Tuesday while Jagori held its two days later on Thursday. That way, the staff and friends of both organizations could attend both events.

Nishtha's celebration fell on a lovely spring afternoon. Participants were greeted at the gate with a hug from the Nishtha women. They put a dot of red coloring on my brow and tied a red protection string around my wrist, with a marigold tied into it.

The event started in Nishtha's community center with a video on water and environmental concerns made by Vandana. Making women's participation in environmental issues a focus for the afternoon, they went on to discuss issues such as cementing in streams and burning plastic. I was shocked to see just how many local women did not know burning plastic releases cancer-causing toxic gasses. There were gasps of horror and surprise from among the audience. This gives me all the more reason to be glad that Nishtha used Women's Day as a platform to spread awareness.



After those talks, everyone moved outside to the lawn for speeches, songs, skits, and dancing. Though it was a relatively small gathering of about fifty people, I feel that it was a great success, seeing the smiles on everyone's faces.



Jagori held its event in Shahpur, near where I am teaching these days, an hour and a half away from where I live. It was on a much larger scale, with around five hundred people attending. I rose at the crack of dawn, put on my purple kameez with white salwar, and hopped in a van packed with other Jagori team members all headed for Shahpur. We spent most of the morning setting up the tent area with streamers, tables, a stage, and all sorts of other glitzy yet necessary things. I do admit to spending a lot of time transfixed, watching Manju create this colorful welcome design out of colored saw dust. It was fascinating.



As we were setting up, we were visited by a Brahmin Hindu holy man. He approached Manju and the others at the front of the tent and demanded to know what we were doing. When they explained our women's day celebrations to him, he angrily protested that such feminist things were not needed. If men respect women and act properly, they will become like gods. Likewise, if women respect men and fulfill their roles properly, they will also become like gods. Therefore, feminism isn't needed and is misleading. Or something like that, anyway. From what I can see, Brahministic Hinduism certainly does not allow for women's liberation.

He then went on to insult the Jagori team saying that we were all uneducated and very stupid. To make his point, he pointed to the buttonhole on his vest and asked them what it was called in English. Rightfully, my colleagues claimed it to be a buttonhole. He vehemently disagreed with them, so they brought me over and asked me what I thought it was. I also answered that it was a buttonhole. He began to scream at me saying over and over that that was a huge mistake and that I was stupid too. Shrugging, I admitted that I was only an English teacher from America, so I would not know these things. (Besides the fact that I am something of a seamstress.) Crazy as the man was, I was quite proud of my successfully executed use of sarcasm in Hindi. He eventually declared that it was really called a 'stitching hole' (not true, friends), then lost interest and wandered off.

When the event began, I was a bit nervous at how few people were attending, but slowly and surely, women trickled in to fill our tent to the brim. They came from all over; from Shahpur itself and from distant, remote villages in the mountain, all ready to celebrate being women and support each other in how far they still have to go together, to gain equality and respect.



The four hour even included a number of guest speakers, songs, a skit, and special recognition for women who were recently elected into their village panchayats (five-member councils that govern each village).

Leading up to the elections this last December, Jagori worked at training women and sympathetic men in how to stand for the elections and how to act once they were elected. There is a law stating 33% of all members of the panchayats must be women, and, in alternating years, the pradhan (head of the council) must also be a woman. While this is a great start towards given women a voice, frequently men force their wives to stand for the election and are the real power behind their wife's political seat. Seeking to empower women and actually give them a voice, Jagori trained many women for almost a year leading up to the elections. At the event, Jagori handed out certificates of congratulation to all the people attending that had successfully been elected and had them recite and sign a pledge to work for the interest of women in their villages.



All in all, the even was a huge success, and everyone on the team seems really happy with it. While my Hindi still isn't good enough to understand everything, I was able to follow most of the proceedings and thought it was all very exciting. The empowered energy of the day was exciting, and after it all, we broke out into spontaneous dance. I am very glad that I was able to be a part of this this year, a day celebrated by women all around the world. Though struggles and issues may be different across the globe, we women are united in our quest for equality.

A little bit tasty

Today I accomplished something I have long dreamed of: cooking something delicious from scratch without any kind of recipe. The result was so lovely, I thought I would share it.



I think I shall call it Stir-Fried Tofu with Pumpkin and Broccoli. So here's how it goes:

-Ingredients-
¼ of a medium sized pumpkin, cubed (this is like 5 or 6 cups, I think)
1 head of broccoli
4 c tofu, cubed, or thereabouts
1 c cashews
½ tsp mustard seeds
2 tbs sesame seeds
6-8 cloves of garlic, minced
1 itty-bitty onion, diced (this comes out to about 2 tbs of onion)
2 tbs soy sauce
1 tbs salt
2 tsp oregano
a pinch of thyme
a pinch of basil
olive oil
1 c noodles (I used some really fine Tibetan egg noodles, and the flavor was nice)

1. Heat some olive oil in your wok. As it's warming, throw in the sesame and mustard seeds and wait until they start to dance around in the oil and crackle. Then add the onion and garlic and fry them until they start to brown a little.
2. Add your tofu and fry that until it also starts to brown a bit. You have to do this first, otherwise it will fall apart all over the other ingredients. Once it has browned, add the pumpkin and broccoli.
3. Start boiling those noodles.
4. Keep frying the veggies and such until they start to get tender. Add the cashews, soy sauce, salt, oregano, thyme, and basil, then toss it around a bit more.
5. When the noodles are ready, toss them it with a bit more olive oil, then serve.

This is delicious and vegetarian, though unfortunately not vegan because of the egg noodles. You could probably find some vegan noodles and substitute those instead. This was largely an experiment of my kitchen with what I had lying around. I invite anyone to try this out and play with it, seeing how it can be improved upon.

And it's so colorful!

Mandatory Vacation 2 - In Photos of Animals

I am sorry about the long gap between blog entries. My motivation for blogging is slowly leeching away.

As many of you may know, I took another mandatory vacation, thanks to my visa, for two months or so. I began in Jaipur by visiting my cousin Laura, who was studying abroad there for the semester. After Jaipur, I fled India with my exit date deadline on my heels, and traveled in Malaysia and Singapore with my mother. We started in Kuala Lampur, then traveled up to Georgetown in Penang Island near the border with Thailand, spent a few luxurious days in a resort on Pangkor Island, then bused down to Singapore. We entitled our travels “Eat, Beach, Shop.”

From there, we parted ways, and I went to visit the Shansi fellows, Sarah and Julia, in Banda Ache. We were joined by Nicole, who was fleeing the ash of the eruptions of Mt. Marapi. Thanks to a Muslim holiday, the four of us and two more of their friends, we were able to spend almost a whole week on the nearby island of Sabang, snorkeling, eating, and lying in hammocks.

Due to some mishaps with a ferry, Julia and Sarah getting left behind on Sabang with their motorbikes, I wound up joining Nicole with some local NGO foreigners on an elephant safari. While I'm not sure exactly where we went, we 4-wheeled down along the western coast through deep, muddy unfinished roads to a jungle hut where Indonesian forest rangers used trained elephants to patrol the jungle for illegal activities.

After that and a bit more time in Banda Ache, I struck out on my own to another part of Sumatra. I flew to Medan, then caught a shared car to Lake Toba, an ancient volcanic caldera lake. It was beautiful and peaceful, and the local Batak people were wonderful. Sadly, tourism has all but dried up there. I ended my time in Indonesia in Ubud, Bali. There, I saw cultural music and dance shows every night, ate well, and was a general tourist. The day of my departure, however, I walked into a bed post and broke my little toe, giving me a bothersome limp for the rest of my travels.

From Bali, I flew to Sydney to meet my lovely friend Samantha, who I had studied together with (and appeared together on Japanese television with) in Osaka. I had a great time hanging out with her, exploring Sydney, and meeting her friends and family. Two days, when she was working, I joined up with some Chinese tour groups and got to see other parts of the area, including the Blue Mountains. Thanks to those tour groups, I started to forget that I was in an English speaking country.
Finally, my trip turned towards America. With a 4-hour layover in Fiji, greeted by a merry band of men in sarongs and tropical shirts playing and singing a welcoming song as we came off the plane, I headed for Los Angeles. I had a jet-lagged lay-over and spent two days following my Obie-friend Lisa around.

Then, after 16 months, I returned home for the first time. I saw friends, family, and all sorts of familiar sites that really warmed my heart. I had forgotten what it felt like to really truly feel comfortable in my surroundings. I admit, it was a bit hard to leave, but after new years, I did.

Now I'm back in India with less than three months left. I'm teaching another batch of English students and enjoying it just as much as ever.

To add a little more life to this overdue entry, I present a photo narrative: Jenna's travels, with animals.


Kuala Lampur, Malaysia


Pangkor Island, Malaysia


Singapore


Sumatra, Indonesia


Ubud, Bali, Indonesia


Sydney, Australia


Dellwood, MN, USA

Manali

Last week I took a four-day trip to Manali between my final test and the class party. Manali is east of here, though still in Himachal Pradesh. It is also the largest domestic tourist destination in this part of the country. I went because I was exhausted from a marathon of teaching and little bits of nagging Jagori drama. I wanted to see someplace new and use the time to regroup and rest so that I would be ready to teach again when I returned. That, I succeeded in. My intention had been to hop coffee shops, reading, write, and otherwise take it easy, but my plans quickly changed upon arriving.

Though first, I should mention the bus ride there. I went and booked a ticket at the Dharmshala bus stand a few days in advance, as I always do when going to Delhi. What I didn't realize until the bus pulled up the night of my departure I had booked a government bus for the ten-hour journey. This is the sort of bus I take up to Dharmshala, flat-seated and crowded.

There were just a handful of other foreigners on the bus with me. One of them was a woman from Australia who had left home five years ago as a Buddhist nun to study Tibetan and the Buddhist teachings. She invited me to join her on her seat so we wouldn't have to sit by strange men, which is a very real concern given the stories of harassment on buses. Having her to chat with helped pass the time and distract from the uncomfortable seat. We stopped at six or seven other bus stands on our way, picking up new passengers, and we even delivered mail bags to a few villages. Somewhere during the night, it started to pour a cold rain. I wasn't prepared for it, and spent the night cold and awake. The conductor wasn't announcing the stops, so when we stopped briefly at Manali, I didn't know to get off. Shortly after we started going again he came to me and asked, “Weren't you going to get off at Manali?” As soon as we realized my mistake, they stopped the bus and flagged down a passing taxi. It was then 4:00 AM.

The taxi dropped me off at the hotel I had booked, which I discovered to be easily the grungiest backpacker lodge in all of Manali. There was no one at the reception counter when I arrived but the door was open, so I sat down on the dirty floor and tried to stay awake. About an hour later, the confused watchman stumbled upon me. I couldn't check in until much later, but that didn't stop him from giving me the key of a room to sleep in.

The reason I chose to go to Manali in the first place was because my friends Sonia and Brian were staying there for a few weeks so Sonia could take care of her brother's travel agency while he was away. Sonia called me that morning to tell me that she had a girl with her that I could travel and even stay with during my time there. I thought, since they gave me a bed already that morning, that I should stay one night at that dirty hotel, but I was saved from any further time there by a new acquaintance.

This girl, a friend of a friend of a friend, had just graduated from high school in Holland and was in the middle of a five week solo trip around India. Tyrtza and I hit it off well, so we decided to travel together around Manali. The first day, we mostly just ate and wandered Manali aimlessly. On the second day, Sonia helped us arrange for a car to take us around in the morning to see the local temples.

I used to say that Himachali temples were boring by comparison to the others I had seen around the country. That is only because I hadn't seen any temples in the wood and stone style that is common around Manali. They were all stunningly carved in wood, with rows of cut stone brick at varying intervals. All had high peaked roofs with carved wooden tassels hanging down from the eves. Our driver took us to see a number of these, including the famous Hadimba Temple, the Temple of Manu, a small Tibetan monastary (in typical Tibetan style), and a temple up the side of the mountain in Vishisht that was famed for its hot springs. Unfortunately, a cold rain poured all day, so we bathe in the springs themselves. That night, we managed to keep ourselves up long enough to watch the Spain versus Germany World Cup match at a restaurant near our hotel in Old Manali. (After spending the week with Tyrtza, I was ready to root for Holland in the finals. It's a shame they lost.)

On our third day, we set off on our own, catching a local government bus for Naggar. It was about an hour-long trip over beautiful mountainsides to the small mountain village. Naggar is most famous for its castle, built in the 1600s by the Sikh Raja of the local kingdom. (And sadly, sold by one of his descendants to the British for only a gun in return.) It sat perched on the hill, looking down spectacularly over the valley below. It was built in the same carved wood and stone style as all of the local temples and looked to be more of a luxury retreat than a military center. Of all the castles I've seen in Asia, this is probably the one I would most want to live in. Also in Naggar was the house and gallery of Roerich, a famous Russian artist and peace activist.

On our way back down the mountain, we stopped at a shawl shop. In the few days there, I had fallen in love with the natural colors and simple geometric woven patterns in the local Kully shawls. As it turned out, the shop I stopped in was a family run business, where everything in the store was made in a workshop in the basement. After I bought my yak-wool shawl, the shopkeeper offered to take us downstairs to see the women work. There were six or eight looms arranged around the room, with three woman working on them at the time. A fourth woman sat in the corner, spinning the wool into thread. It was fascinating to watch as the woman took a confused mass of colored threads and turned them into patterns. That night, we had dinner with Sonia, Brian, and two more of their friends from Dharmshala. As it turns out, these two were also good friends with the nun I had rode to Manali with. We had some of the best food I have had in a long time. My dinner consisted of baked trout in an herb butter sauce. Sometimes I miss chicken. Rarely do I miss pork or beef. But, have I ever missed fish. Himachali farm trout isn't as good as catch-it-yourself Minnesota walleye, but that was a meal I will remember for a long time.

On Friday morning, Tyrtza boarded a bus on the next leg of her adventure. I was left to do the aimless wandering that I had originally planned on. Most of the afternoon was spent sitting in Sonia's office chatting with her or reading a book. She had booked me a ticket on a delux bus back to Dharmshala, which I boarded that evening. We had some tire trouble in the night, so I didn't arrive home until almost 7:30 in the morning, but they were kind enough to drop me off right in Sidhbari.

Returning, I was ready to start right into work and teaching again. I was refreshed. I had my class party the next day and I will be starting another set of classes next week. Now I'm ready for it in energy and spirit.

Parties and Teaching

Once again, it's been a long time between entries, and I apologize for that. During May, my family visited for two and a half weeks, and immediately after, my students asked me to switch the English course from a three-month three days a week course to a two month five days a week course. That has kept me plenty busy and exhausted for the last month or so.

Having my family here, my parents, my brother, and my cousin, was really wonderful. We took long walks, ate lovely dinners, played everything from Clue to charades, went shopping, and saw some local sites that even I haven't had a chance to explore yet. The longer they were here, I could see my parents grow more and more comfortable with the idea of me living and working where I am.

At the end of their time here, we left Himachal Pradesh for Delhi, then hired a car to drive us straight down to Agra. We happened to time our trip down onto the plains during the hottest week of the year. Temperatures in Delhi were reaching 48 C, which is about 120 F. Staying in that air conditioned car and immediately hopping into air conditioned restaurants and our air conditioned bead and breakfast made it bearable. We got up early the next morning, 5:00 AM in fact, so that we could be at the Taj Mahal by 6:00 AM. Even that early in the morning, it was undeniably hot. The Taj itself was gorgeous in the early morning light. Only a few other tourists were around, so we even managed to get a few photos of the Taj Mahal without other people in them. Pretty impressive for one of the most famous landmarks in the world.

After breakfast, we hopped back into our air conditioned car and drove straight back up to Delhi. In Delhi, we did a bit of shopping and quite a lot of eating. Only a day and a half later, my family got back on a plane for the US and I for Himachal Pradesh.

Shortly thereafter, Anya's two year term was up and it was time for her to travel her way back to the United States. The night she took a bus down to Delhi, a handful of us saw her off at the Dharmshala bus stand, waving until we couldn't see her any more, and crying even a little longer. I admit, being here without Anya now has been tough on me, but it's been three weeks now, and I'm recovering. It's time for me to find out how to stand on my own two feet here.

So, I threw myself into teaching. This session consists of two classes, one right after the other. My first class has three girls who completed only 10 or 12 years of education. My second class is four college girls and one older assistant who works for Kamla. They're all very hard working, when the do show up to class. The difference in the levels of education between the two classes is really apparent in how they take to my activities and lessons. I had wanted to combine the two classes, as teaching a group of under 10 people is very tough. However, a number of my students in both classes were also in a computer class at the Knowledge Center at the same time as the other class, it couldn't be done. I have made the mobilizers promise to get me bigger classes next time.

Despite being busy and mildly overworked, I still have managed to experience life around me. In just the last week, I have been to a wedding, a funeral, and three birthday parties, plus trekking to a temple high in the mountains.

Last Sunday, the last day off I had before the 10-day teaching marathon I'm currently in the middle of, Devika invited me to go hiking with her and five local children. Recently, she befriended the nieces and nephews of one of our co-workers Ravina, and promised to spend a day with them. So Devika, another short-term volunteer from Delhi, and I spent a morning and afternoon hiking up a mountain with four little boys and one girl. They ranged from third grade up to tenth grade, the girl being the oldest. Although the road to Indru Nag Temple was paved, the children often got impatient and wanted to climb up the slopes on short-cuts between the long switch-backs. This gave Devika and the other volunteer some trouble, but my upbringing with lots of hiking, bouldering, and generally scampering around in nature came in handy. I was able to keep up even with the eight-year-old as he scurried up the slopes, then climb back down to give Devika an extra hand. It was refreshing. After they did their worship and offerings at the temple, we sat in the shade of a tree and ate our lunch. That consisted of one little tin of food they had brought with them to share, along with some roti. We supplemented it with bags of chips and cookies. Now that's one nutritious end to a long hike, if you ask me. The way back down was, if anything, harder than the hike up. We took yet another short cut. It was steeper and frequently dusted with dirt or pine needles, which made for slippery footing. We briefly stopped at a smaller temple where a baba, holy man, stayed who reportedly revered Michael Jackson. The children couldn't get much conversation out of him, much to their disappointment.

On Monday morning, I went to a commemorative feast for Dr. Kusum's mother. In local customs, after a death, people close to the deceased mourn for a set period of time. In this case, it was thirteen days. While mourning, they don't work and they don't eat any salted foods. On the thirteenth day, they invite their friends to a prayer service and feast. After eating prashad, a ritual offering to the Gods, I ate some delicious curries and subzis, paying respects to Dr. Kusum and her family. This sort of feast is a marker of the end of mourning, when everyone can eat salted foods again, and that they will now go on with their lives again.

On Tuesday morning, I went to the wedding of my Hindi tutor, Indu's, older sister. The invited me to come only to the last morning of the wedding, when her sister Meena was being shown off. The actual wedding ceremony happened the night before. When arrived, Meena was already deep in the ritual crying of a bride being taken away to her new home. She was sobbing so violently that she couldn't stand while her family stood around tearfully. Eventually, when it became clear that she couldn't make her way to the car herself, her new father-in-law picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her to the car himself. Meanwhile, her husband followed awkwardly behind. Both were still draped heavily in the tinsel trappings of wedding attire. Meena was put in the car with her new husband and some members of his family and her brother, as per tradition. Indu went along as well, for support.

Following the send-off was an all-day feast. People would be coming all day from around the village to congratulate the family and eat. Like the other wedding feasts I have been to, it consisted of seven courses, starting with more yellow foods, ending in darker brown ones, finishing in a sweet rice. I ate with Didi and Maya, who were both there as well, then rode back down the mountain in their car as we dodged the rain. Although we ate early in the day, the feast would last well into the afternoon.

Wednesay was one of my co-worker's birthday parties. Ashish is the Jagori librarian, and I didn't realize until we all went to his house that night that he had an identical twin brother. If they hadn't been wearing different colored shirts, I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. A good number of Jagori staff turned out for the party. There was another seven course feast. Instead of the usual leaf plates, they had paper plates, which had clearly been printed as advertisement for an electronics company. They all bore a picture of a snazzy looking DVD player. Very clever advertisement.

After the feast, there was some singing and dancing. Get a bunch of Jagori women together in one place without an agenda, and that will happen. Then the brought out a cake. We sang happy birthday, then Ashish's family fed him and his brother the cake, smearing it liberally all over their faces. Then it was Ashish and his twin's turn to feed everyone else little bits of cake, starting with their family. It certainly was a more exciting way to eat cake than what I'm used it. Of course, once the smearing and feeding was done, everyone got a little plate with their own piece of cake on it.

After the birthday celebration, there was to be an all-night worship to one of the gods with singing, dancing, and praying. I had to teach the next day, so I politely excused myself and headed home. For most of the rest of the Jagori team, Thursday was a holiday, so that was less of a worry for them.

My second birthday party of the week was for the Karmapa Lama, the head of an older sect of Tibetan Buddhism than that of the Dalai Lama. He is in his mid to late twenties and views the Dalai Lama as his teacher, a relationship that has not happened between the two Lamas in previous incarnations. His temple is in Sidhbari itself, about a fifteen minute walk from my house. I had never been to see him or his temple before, so when I heard about the celebration, I jumped at the chance, and asked Maya if I could go along with her.

We got up early in the morning and walked down together. Even despite being a half hour early, we found that the temple itself was already packed. We waited in a line to get inside that moved nowhere. As we waited, a friend of Maya's, a Tibetan nun who had come early with a delegation of Taiwanese Buddhists, spotted her. The nun took hold of us both and pulled us confidently past security at a side door and found us a cushion to sit on. We were very lucky. I'm sure we wouldn't have gotten inside otherwise.

The morning service was long, but fascinating. When it came time for the Karmapa to come in, he was accompanied by triumphant reedy trumpets that announced his arrival. He came in and paid homage to the Dalai Lama, a cardboard cut-out sat on a throne above his own, before he sat on his own throne. Amid chanting and throat singing from the multitude of monks and nuns present, people walked in a long line past his throne, presenting him with symbolic gifts. The first of which was rice poured over a basin, to represent the creation of the world, the heavens, and the four cardinal directions. Other gifts included small representations of scriptures, Buddha statues, and scarves. This went on for quite some time. Then the head of the monastery, a member of the Dalai Lama's sect, chanted explanations of gifts he and the monastery were giving. This was all in Tibetan and lost on me.

After that, it was time for the guests to all be blessed. Monks passed out cups and poured butter tea for everyone who was inside, then passed out little leaf bowls of sweet rice. After the food and drink were blessed by the Karmapa, everyone ate. Meanwhile, other monks passed out gifts of money to all of the monks and nuns there. Gifts from the Karmapa.

Then people began to file by the Karmapa's throne as fast as they could be ushered by. Everyone carried a scarf with them. First, another monk would drape the scarf over each person's shoulders in blessing, then the Karmapa would touch their head as they passed by, and finally another monk would hand them a red string with a protection knot in it to tie onto yourself. Usually the tying of the string or the draping would be done with by the Karmapa Lama himself, but there were too many people to do that on this occasion. First people who had been waiting outside filed through. Then came the monks and nuns from inside, and lastly ordinary people like us. By this time, we were rushed so much that I had to drape my own scarf around me, but the Karmapa did touch my head as I passed.

We returned to our seats with the Taiwanese group and saw the end of the ceremony. Chanting and throat singing resumed again. I saw older monks passing out what looked like song sheets to the young boys, so that they could join in too. With a fanfare from the reedy horns, about half of the monks put on their huge yellow hats. Fringed with yarn in long crests, they remind me a bit of Roman centurion plumes. They finished their chant and the Karmapa Lama retreated with the trumpets back into his apartments.

The festivities would go on all day, but we only stayed long enough for lunch. Somehow, they managed to feed the hundreds of people that had gathered there for the Karmapa's birthday. It was an auspicious day, with a full moon and a number of celestial objects in alignment. After freshening up, Maya went back for his teaching and cake cutting in the afternoon, but I had a class to teach. Again, she got lucky by seeing another friend in the doorway who let her inside.

The third and final birthday party for the week was for the husband of a woman who was helping Didi with some of her architecture work. Their whole family was staying in the village this summer though they were from outside of Delhi themselves. Maya and Didi invited Sneha, Didi's current intern from Pune, and I to join in. I was to be assist pizza cook and bringer of the entertainment: “The Lord of the Rings” movies.

Making pizza together is something that my family has done together for as long as I can remember, and probably about as often as once a month by the time I was in high school. I love making home made pizza. Not only is it delicious and fun, it brings back many warm fuzzy feelings from home. I didn't mention that to Maya when invited, I just enthusiastically accepted her invitation. I was right in the middle of things, spreading the dough onto the pans, and putting on the sauce and toppings. Maya was so impressed by how nicely I got the dough to spread out and how lovely all the pizzas looked that I am now hired as her pizza cook. I look forward to making more pizza later on. It was a blast, especially with the two young kids hanging around and helping. It turned out that “The Fellowship of the Ring” was a little too intense and detailed for their young son to deal with. We frequently had to pause for breathers and questions. Eventually, their whole family got tired, so they went home. Maya, Sneha, and I did see the movie through to the end though. It was an enjoyable evening, to be sure.

Although the monsoon season is scheduled to start on July 15th here, we have been getting daily rain for some time now. And lately, it's been growing in intensity. Though we still haven't had an all-day rain yet, I think it's safe to say that the monsoons have already started. Although I may leave my home on a sunny afternoon, I can never leave my umbrella behind. Clouds build up quickly in the mountains, and just as quickly descend into the valley.

So, with my umbrella in hand, I soldier on through my last three days of class, a review session, and a test. Then there's that web site to finish and launch. After that, I'm taking a much-needed break.