Let's get up early and see sunrise- a photo essay*

I know I said that I wanted to see the sun rise today, but I really hope that it's overcast because it's much too cold for...anything.
(walks outside)
Oh, never mind...


Waiting for sunrise...


Sara: Maya, please don't take photos of us! It is bahut early...
Jason: Sub theekh hai! I've already been doing soccer drills, so click away!


Oh Maya, you rapscalion you! You always make us laugh, even when we are freezing cold and very tired.
Oh look, here it comes. About time too! The cold is beginning to penetrate down through the first three layers of clothing, the epi-clothing layer, if you will. Luckily, Maya is the jugaru, so when she says "Jaldi!" the sun listens.


Ahhhhh!


Maybe we should do this more often...


Even Dev Dar doesn't look so freezing at sunrise.


Alex, this was a really good idea. Your ideas are always good.


Like the "Beards and Hats" party. That was good.


Alright, then let's take the next week and go trekking up to that peak.


Uhh...



* Plus some words.

the sound of Rain

I can't give it to you here. It's a sound, and anyway, if I recorded it, it wouldn't be the same. Maybe a part of it is that you can't control it, can't call it on demand. It comes when the clouds are full and softens everything, calms the earth for as long as it will. I can't think of many sounds that are more gentle, can't really even describe what it is exactly, because the words don't add up to the sound or the feeling. Who's surprised? Get deep enough into words and realize that they really only go so far. But still, remembering the sound is good...

++++++

A: OK, so I've made a list of reasons why you should go to Barista with me.

S: Oh no, I can't.

A: So, you'll study, and then have your Hindi lesson...

S: No, I said no.

A: ...then, we'll walk down the hill, and that'll be really good because it will get you all focused because all your [makes swirling gesture around head] things will be moving...

S: No, I'm not going.

M: Who'se going to Barista?
S: Not me.

A: ...and then, we'll get there, and you'll be all focused and we can do homework...

S: No, I can' t go, I never get anything done.

A: ...and it'll be really good and we really will do homework...

S: Do you need any help getting things together?
M: No, only with the second thing.

A:...and I'll make sure that you do homework and I'll do homework too.

S: What? No, I am not going to Barista. I need to stay here and get some solid work done.

A: OK, fine, that's fine. I'll just go to my room and cry.

S: OK. Let me know when you're done.

++++++

We find home in the most unexpected places, don't we? In a book, in a sound, in a house, in a freezing-cold-unfortunate-excuse-for-a-guest-house-with-a-manager-who-sings-a-little-while-he-works-so-his-voice-echoes-in-the-high-cold-rooms. Maybe they're not so unexpected, maybe we knew we would find them, and that's why we're here, why we keep searching, why we go out even though we're scared to death. Maybe that's why this up-and-down life works out, because even when we're sulky and anxious, sometimes it starts to rain on the walk home and we find our scorched and stinging hearts cooled and softened.

Deep Mist

Through the doorway velvet fog presents itself. Tiny droplets landing on my face, hair, jacket, cool enveloping me with such gentle embrace that I hardly recognize it. Trees stand sentinel in the fog, transported from Narnia and The Never Ending Story, fading into the distance, leading to those worlds whose only invitation is imagination. At this moment though, I could walk in, cross over; the distance between fantasy and life is made of translucent paper instead of real. Deep purple dusk intertwines itself with fog in an embrace of passion and inspiration. The rocky drive leads upwards, mirrors my elation. Long legs in thick jeans and scrubby boots carry me on the road and every bit of the reality in which I'm traveling knows that magic is here, transformed to meet the world which presents itself in this blazing moment. My breath grows ragged as the road pushes me forward. You are there almost there, it says. I see the road flatten, the old white Ambassador waiting for me past the gate. I reach the car and the door swings open.

D: Bahut tunda, uh?
A: Hunh ji.

I pile in, pull the door shut, breathing heavily, beaming, eyes glowing. The car pulls away into the mist.

Chaithoughts

When and where does this real world exist?

A line from a movie that I've been thinking about recently.

Where is the life that we feel we're constantly moving towards, striving for, holding out for, and what are we living in the mean time? Where are we when we struggle through the days wishing constantly to be anywhere, anyone, else? What life is that if it feels so misshapen, badly wrought, makes our skin scream with heat and chafing? Is it less of life than life when things work out how they “should” or how we'd like them to? Which part is real- daily routine or the break from that routine? Finishing homework for class the next day the night before, or staying up late with a sick roommate, homework sitting in your still-closed backpack and at the very bottom of your brain right above your spine, pressing down? Which part of life is the part when you see before you different choices, completely in your control, choices which will completely change your life? Is that the in-between, or is that the stuff itself?

++++++

After an awkward 50 minutes of Hindi class with a teacher who's manner I can't quite figure out, we got up to leave the classroom. He always waits for me to start down the stairs before him, which makes for several awkward intervals. First, me packing up my things, him waiting. I'm reminded of how in 6^th grade, Ms. Porter told my parents that she though I'd have trouble in middle school because it took me so long to pack up my things and in middle school you change classes a lot. Next, walking down stairs clearly built for the giants who once lived in the mountains (before wizards drove them out- see Harry Potter) with a number of things inevitably packed badly or not packed at all in an attempt to hasten the packing-watching-packing experience. Stumble down the stairs, make awkward conversation. Today, it was about my water bottle. It is huge, and gets a lot of attention.

H: Is that a thermos?

A: Well...I guess. It's a water bottle, but I think it could be a thermos. It's just got water in it.

H: Hot water?

A: No, but I think it could have. It's also good because I can use it as a weapon.

H: ...Oh, yes, because it's so long.

A: Er, yes.

H: Did they market it like that? As a water bottle and a weapon?

A: Yes.

H: Really?

A: No...But they might sell more if they did. (bottom of the stairs, scamper away)

After my 2:20 class, coffee (Hindustani coffee, my teacher says, so something between tea and coffee) is served from a tin-looking tea pot with a rag wrapped around its handle. A plastic tub of small ceramic mugs sits beside the tea pot and students and professors come and huddle around in the chill, drinking. I pour a glass and see some acquaintances outside. I consider going to stand with them but decide that navigating my way through the gaggle of Hindi teachers isn't worth the trouble, so I stand alone with my mug.

My mind slips into hibernate, my eyes un-focus and I stare somewhere between the stairs and the bannister. It's not often that I get the opportunity to do this- just enough time to check out without feeling like I should be doing something else. Except maybe socializing. I suppose I've not set much store in socializing for the sake of socializing though. For better or for worse. Backpack on over down jacket and five-trillion under-layers, shoulders hunched, hands grasping warm, smooth porcelain, bandaid around my finger. I swirl my coffee without knowing why, thinking vaguely that I should stop, as I don't actaully want it to be any cooler than it is. I don't stop though. There's something meditative about standing there, swirling my coffee. Truthfully, it doesn't taste like coffee. It leaves a kind of tangy, bitter taste in my mouth. But holding it, swirling it, drinking it, seeing it, milky brown and steaming slightly, encased in an ugly little mug with a handle. It is calm, something that I suppose I've valued highly since coming to India. It is sweet, warm, and calm. I look into the mug and drift away, being in a moment that feels somehow stolen or won by a clever trick.

My glass empties and the bugs in my belly, wherever they came from, return to shake things up, the buzzing in my head resumes. I say “excuse me” to the Hindi teachers, wave to my friends, and walk out of the gate. I carry on with the day, but perhaps retaining a bit of the groundedness, born of chai. I look up and see the Himalayas, the clearest they've been since I arrived here. Gravel scrapes and grumbles beneath my shoes, and I have a thought that a friend could use a hand. I send a text message, and get a call a minute later.

A: Hello?

F: Do you know why you're the best?

A: No.

F:You don't?

A: Well, I mean, I could probably make an educated guess...

F: You're the best because you know me.

Maybe it's just here then; this life that we're seeking.

Just wanted to let you know that OH MY GOSH I'M HERE!

This blog title is an exerpt (actually, the entire thing) from a text message I sent to some of my friends/professors upon arriving in Mussoorie (OMG! Seriously? Yes, Alex, Seriously.). Their responses:

Cool, welcome to your new abode. Good luck for your stay.

Breathe in the fresh air. Go to Char Dukhan and have some noodles at Anil's Tea Shop.

Yay! I was just thinking about you! You're going to have so much fun, call me whenever you're bored and I'll do the same :) Lots of Love!

Honestly, how lucky am I? And, how cool do I look all bundled up?! Don't answer that, I know the answer: very cool.

I got to the guest house and thought, oh no, none of my friends are here... This will most certainly not work. No, I'll have to go back to Oakland right now.

You know what though? I think it's going to be OK. More photos to come. XOXOXO

Off (, I'm)

I remember when I was much younger, time moved so much more slowly. I remember my hair being short when I was three or four years old. I wanted it to be long so badly; I leaned my head back and swung my hair back and forth on my neck, imagining what it would be like when it was long. I could feel it growing, and new that it would be so long before I could tell the difference, that it had grown. I knew that one day I would just look in the mirror and realize, "oh good, my hair's long now!" I could hardly fathom the time it would take until it grew- if I was living in this time, this minute, which took 60 seconds to be over with, how would I possibly make it all those months?

I remember, too, thinking about holidays. Christmas is six months away. The day after my birthday, my birthday was a whole year away. A week was a long time to wait, as was fifteen minutes, or even ten.

++++++

I have been in India for more than two months. Tomorrow I leave for Mussoorie, a hill station about six hours away from Delhi by train. I'm going by myself, and will be staying there in a guest house, taking Hindi classes, working on my independent study project, being ALONE.

I'm not going to lie- I'm terrified.

Sometimes the world looks all grey; I know this color. Too much time, not enough to find "happy", too much to do and nothing to do but drown in emptiness. I've seen it before, been here before. Which is funny, because I haven't ever been here before. All this is new.

Interspersed in the gray though, colors fade in, and then out again. I realize that this is happening, this is where I am and I can see a shadow of where I will be, and that worrying most likely won't change that. Like, 98% sure. The other thing, though, is that it's not all bad. When the colors fade in, I catch my breath, feel anticipation, excitement, gratitude, press against me like the blast of one of those fireworks that only makes a little spark but is so loud that you lose your breath and feel air and sound press in on your eardrums.

I heard somewhere that 98% of the things we worry about won't happen. How incredible is that? How much energy, then, do I put into anxiety over something that won't happen? And in this case, why should I put energy into worrying about being lonely, overwhelmed, sad, homesick, when I am literally the only person with any control over how I feel?

I think it's going to be good, great. Living in India for a month with nothing to do but take photos, write, hike, walk around, um, what's the problem? Taklif kya hai?!?

++++++

I wonder if the reason that time moves more slowly for children is because they are infinitely better at being in the moment. They don't think ahead so much, don't have to plan for work, deal with money, work on homework, be in charge. Maybe they've got a head-start on us grown-ups (did I just call myself a grown-up?), but I don't think it's just that. I think they've got a wisdom that we've lost somewhere along the way. One that we can recall, regain, reclaim, remember. If we work at it, do it consciously, mindfully.

I learned something in math class once. Maybe it was biology, but anyway, here it is; If we measure, for example, a coastline, we'll get an approximate distance. We can look at a sattelelite image, assume that one inch is equivalent to one mile, and go from there. If we go out with a car and drive the length of the coast, tracking the distance, we'll probably get a different measurement. Maybe slightly longer. If we go out to the coast, assuming we somehow identify the exact coastline, and measure that line with a ruler, we'll probably get an even larger distance. We can keep going with this too. With smaller and smaller units of measurement, we'll get longer and longer distances. And there's no bottom line to the size of our measuring stick, so there's no upper limit to the length of that coast line- it is infinitely long. It really is.

Maybe we can look at time the same way. It is what we make of it, certainly, but it is also as long as we make it. It can be very short, fast, scream by, when we're having fun. Or it can go excruciatingly slowly if we're bored or upset or impatient. The length of time has less to do with the number of seconds and more to do with the way we live them. So what if we could make every minute what we want it to be, the length we want it to be, the color and texture we want it to be? I think we can. But we have to take responsibility for ourselves, our time, first. That's hard.

In yoga, there's a kind of breathing that sounds like the sea. You can make your inhales and exhales as long or as short as you want. It cleanses your blood by draining out all the old and drawing in all new with the new breath, empties out your mind of everything but the slow sea.

Inhale
1.2.3.4.5.

Exhale
1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.

Risk Assessment

We were asked to compile a document entitled "Risk Assessment" in preparation for our independent study projects (I leave for Mussoorie on November 8!). Here it is.

• I have plenty of warm clothes which exclude danger of discomfort due to cold.

• I have a cell phone with which I may call SIT staff in case of emergency or severe boredom.

• I will keep valuables locked up in my room while out and about to prevent loss of valuables.

• I will keep luggage (including valuables) locked with luggage lock during train trips.

• I will keep UP TO DATE med kit with me at all times. Really.

• I will bring the fabulous photo of our group at the Taj Mahal in case I forget that I have friends.

• I will bring lots of books and movies to provide a non-academic outlet for myself during my project.

• I will create specific and detailed schedules each day so as to budget my time wisely and avoid nervous breakdown.

• I will call in (at least) twice a week on the appointed times so as to avoid nervous breakdowns among staff.

• I will stay in contact via email and Skype so as to avoid nervous breakdowns among parental units.

• I will avoid stray dogs, spitting camels, and sickly looking swine and avian-creatures.

• I have budgeted in Rs 2000 in case of a medical emergency.

• I have budgeted in sufficient funds for food so as to maintain a healthy body, which will in turn facilitate a healthy mind.

• I will write (for ISP and otherwise) every day to keep in flow of work and maintain mental health.

• I will photograph (for ISP and otherwise) every day to keep in flow of work and maintain mental health.

• I will allow for sufficient time in internet cafes to email and Skype friends and family so as to avoid overwhelming loneliness.

• I will try to move my body every day so as to avoid turning into oatmeal (i.e. cold, gelatinous, lumpy).

• I will stay in communication with Stormji and my advisor so as to stay on track with my ISP.