We finally got out of the city. Our first venture out in more than a
month.

Just north of the city (actually, surrounded by the city) is Sanjay
Ghandi National Park, a 104-square kilometer protected area of
jungle. It is the dry season, so it was pretty dry and hot (they
haven't had rain here since probably September). However, we're keen
to go back once the rains come, because you can tell it gets filled
in with greenery.

We rode the local trains about 1 1/2 hours to get there, and then
took a short "van" ride to the caves. They are part of a Buddhist
monastery that is 1,900 years old. They are a bunch of homes and
temples that were carved out of a giant rock outcropping at the top
of a hill in the jungle. It was quite impressive - kind of reminded
me of the Anasazi cliff-dwellings.

We found one old monk's cave and sat on the steps of his "porch". We
had a view of the city way off in the distance. The air was
surprisingly clear, even in the city. But out at the park, we
actually saw blue sky and clouds - another first in India. Sitting
on the steps, with no one around, I actually had 15 minutes of peace
- nothing but birds and cicadas. No horns, traffic, motors, people,
etc. It was literally the first time we've had peace since early
February when we went camping north of San Francisco.

Today (Monday) was even clearer - so I snapped a couple of photos
from our apartment so you can see the difference. I also got a photo
from the other side of our apartment, looking out over the bay (which
is usually lost in the smog).

Work is busy for both of us, and I am now helping out at a center
twice a week with some 11-14 year old kids. They are pretty well-
behaved; I think I lucked out. It's nice to get out of the office
and help someone that can really use some help. Plus my work said I
didn't have to make up the hours...my job is pretty much just get the
work done and who cares how many hours it takes you. Most of my co-
workers take naps at their desk, and half of them don't even show up
2 days out of the week.

Click on the Flickr link to see the photos.

--Will (& Serenity)

I went to one of the educational centers on Monday to meet the teachers there so I can start going twice a week to help out. 

The kids were  8 and 9 years old, unruly and out of control, but for the most part good natured. I'm taking Will there tomorrow (Friday) so he can start going on Thursdays and Fridays in the afternoons also.  You should have seen the look on the one teacher's face when I said there would be two of us coming to help out -- she really needs the help! Apparently the particular class hasn't had a steady teacher EVER, so no wonder they have no concept of consistency or good behavior! 

Basically the 'centers' are two apartments in a large apartment complex. The complex was built by the government to house a community whose legal slums were demolished last year by government-permitted construction projects. So, the complex is run-down, there's dirty kids and chickens running around, and who knows what else. 

The whole neighborhood in general is a very poor area -- bad road conditions, lots of slum housing, trash and dirty water, etc. It's amazing to think about what the kids deal with on a daily basis, not to mention what their family lives are probably like.  

Also, there is a large Muslim population in the area, so that means it's common to see women in the full black burqa, green flags flying from rooftops (green is the color of Islam), and the call to prayer was blasting over loudspeakers when I left around 5:30 in the afternoon. -- Makes for some sights that we certainly don't see at home! 

I wonder if other Americans living in places like this are equally curious about Muslim culture? It seems like since 9/11 it has been an 'us versus them' conception between 'east and west'. I feel privileged to be able to experience 'the east' for what it really is here... whatever that is! 

So I'm staying busy. I'm trying to be out of the office as much as possible - I'm teaching two classes on Thursday afternoons across town, will be visiting the centers twice a week in the afternoons, and next week I'm starting a language course in the mornings for teachers-in-training... to boost their English skills. 

Hope everyone is doing great! 

I drew this picture after watching this lovely woman go by on the back of a motorcycle the other day. I didn't have my camera with me, and probably couldn't have gotten a photo anyway, but I'm intrigued for some reason by Muslim women here - the ways in which they are the same and different from their Hindu counterparts. For instance, they both wear bright colors, but when in public, the Muslim woman covers up... only the jingles of her foot jewelry and the bright colors at the bottom of her pants give her away.

This woman and man were laughing and talking while in a traffic jam. The woman's eyes showed laughter and joy, and she was obviously comfortable on the bike. She was young, and her small figure was just barely visible under her black cover. The invisibility of her body except for her eyes, which were laughing, and the way in which she sat with ease, lended a mystery to her character that I wish I could know more about... and who is this young man driving the motorcycle? Her husband? Her secret boyfriend? A classmate? Her brother? When does she get to take off the chador? At work? Only at home? Is this a special occasion or does she get a ride on the back of a motorcycle every day? (I have seen this same scene at other times). Anyway, go ahead, ponder.


And then -- there's this delightful dish that we discovered accidentally from the place where we eat so many of our meals...

Behold,

Kashmiri Naan.


This is a soft slice of naan bread, filled with Indian cottage cheese and cilantro, then topped with candied beets, fresh sliced apples, cashew nuts, fruit jam, cilantro, and a cherry.

Like Will says -- "If this is what they eat in Kashmir, no wonder India and Pakistan fight over it!!!"

This afternoon I watched as two teenage boys were reprimanded by a
woman for being on the ladies-only train car. In a car full of women,
one raised her voice to let the teenage boys know it's not okay to be
on the ladies' car.

Henna-covered arms waved through the air as the woman let her
thoughts be known, while the rest of us looked on... the boys of
course got off quickly at the next station.

Riding the train can sometimes be a pain, but it is nonetheless a fascinating experience here in Mumbai...

Today, as I gazed out at the slums and the poverty that is so much of this city, I got a soundtrack to the sites.

Coming from somewhere in a nearby 2nd class car, loud bells, drums, and boisterous singing filled the air as the Indian city swept by.

There is something about the ringing, chanting, and festivity-like quality to the sounds of acoustic, tribal or religious music that turn an otherwise drab morning into a colorful experience for the ears.

Twice now, I have hopped off the train and strained to catch a glimpse of these musicians, as the train leaves the station, wondering how in the world they find space in the train cars to play their music, and twice now, I have seen not even the slightest trace of this band of men. They are swallowed up by the masses, hidden away from sight among the throngs of people -- only their music permeates the crowds.

Will says: "I don't know, that laundry is pretty cheap... Seems too cheap". 

He's been taking his shirts and pants to a young man just around the corner to be washed and ironed. He drops them off one day, and picks them up about a day or two later. 2 shirts and 2 pants -- 10 rupees he's charged. (That's about $0.25). 

Getting ready to leave the house on Sunday morning, Will starts to think about the clothes he's been getting back from the launders. They just don't smell that fresh. 

Come to think of it, that dirt around the collar hasn't gotten any lighter either. 

A conversation with the man next door, out in the hallway, brings more light to that increasingly funky smell... 10 rupees happens to be about what the neighbor pays to have his clothes ironed - only. 

"Just a local boy" our neighbor says of the young man with our laundry.

Then Will and I think back to what that young man around the corner is doing every time we stop by -- he's ironing. 

Do you know what that means? 

That means that Will has not worn a clean shirt since we arrived in India - over a month ago. 

Let's just say the colors of India I saw as I poured the soapy water out while washing those shirts in our big laundry bucket was not bright blue, orange or red -- it was black.

Had a good day at work - did a lot of brainstorming and am helping coordinate the how the new school will operate on a daily basis.

I left at the same time as a co-worker so took a train home with her. She gets off at the stop before mine, so we rode together, which was really nice, although I went on the 2nd class train with her instead of 1st class like I usually go by myself, and we had nice conversation, but while crowded like sardines - oh well! I always take the ladies' car, so at least it's just other women I'm crowded in with.

The price difference: 2nd class -- 7 rupees // 1st class -- 87 rupees. Pretty significant!

The only difference in 1st class is that people have to pay a lot more, so there's not as many people -- otherwise it's the same train car.

Today in the train car I was squished with, among many, many others, women in every color of sari and salwar kameez you can imagine, and some you've never imagined, a woman holding a large drum, and old woman trying to sit on the floor, business-like women, muslim women in full black cover, little school boys (they're allowed to ride the ladies' car until 12 years old).... and the list goes on.

Always someone or something to look at!