Every Picture Tells a Story

Oct 11, 2007

The English teacher yelled at us because we were afraid of the monkeys that surrounded us during lessons. October, here, is the month of fantastic weather. Always sun and blue skies. Most of our lessons are held outside the classrooms, with students curled up in the sun.

Everyone has there moment of "Oh, how cute!" when they see their first newborn monkey. After a short time, when they've stolen your first snacks and scared you shitless jumping in front of you growling, the reaction is: "Damned hairy horny animal, you had to go reproduce and have millions of sons of monkeys that grow up and become more horny monkeys." Seriously, they copulate EVERYWHERE.

I have never before received anti-malaria medication together with lunch, before a school trip.

Next Sunday I'll descend from the mountains and the clouds for the first time in two months. The so-called Activity Week is upon us and, finally, I can remember that I'm in India. The fact that I have to prepare with medication a week before is the first reminder that reminds me that I AM, in fact, in India.

Woodstock isn't India, it's Woodstock and that's all. The phrase "melting pot" doesn't describe better any other place.

Today is Thursday and this fills me with joy because it means that tomorrow is Friday! Wise deduction, I konw. Weekends, here, begin on Friday and this Friday in particular is the beginning of another Shanti weekend. Shanti means peace. Shanti is the name of the house where I take refuge as soon as I can. Shanti is my interior peace.

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MomComm: Ah, Activity Week. I had four of them, three epic Art Group trips with art teacher Kathleen Forance, two of which also with ESL teacher Barb Stretch. I was a fixed part of their motley crew. And therein lie MANY tales. Chole pancakes, anyone? Another time.