Not going north with friends on the trip we've been planning since August (itinerary, below right). PiA has, reasonably, asked me to wait a week or perhaps two before they can give the go-ahead for North India.
It's sad and frustrating and feels a little like caving to a culture of fear; and a whole lot like a missed opportunity.
Or a gained one. I've got no desire to hang out waiting in Kody, or even on a Goan beach, for two weeks. So off to the ashram we go, for perhaps one of the scariest things I've ever undertaken: four week yoga teacher training.
It's on my list of things to do in life.
It's a hell of a lot cheaper than flying home for a month.
It means I don't have to worry about packing for cold North and hot Kerala...
And it's not for sure, so please cross-fingers that, when a colleague and I show up later today there will be space, they'll let me join at the 11th hour, and will give the Indian rate...
If yes, I likely won't be posting here until January. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Be safe, Northbound friends!
Namaste.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Mumbai Attacks
Kody's been drenched, wind-whipped and shrouded in fog since Sunday; my apartment hasn't had power for 3 days. I've enjoyed the rain/fog/cold: from the classroom, kids high on sugar cookies singing Rudolph over and over, glitter strewn everywhere and nothing but Christmas parties and slush "lessons" unfolding, the white swirling fog looks almost like snow...
I slept at a friend's place last night. She's got power (most of the time), and hot water, and a tv. We went to sleep around ten--when the power went out--and woke up to it still out. As is often the case when one lives far from home and close to violence, I got first wind of what happened from concerned family half a world away. I guess the attacks were better timed for your news cycle than ours. Plus the whole power-out thing. What is there to say?
Appalling. Pathetic. Yeah, again, Pathetic.
It's been a long day here at KIS. Exams finished yesterday, and students are heading down the flooded mountain, one busload at a time, home. Home to Chennai, Bangalore, Delhi. Mumbai. Lots going home to Mumbai. The vice principal's office says: All flights to Mumbai, going ahead as scheduled. Home to Seoul, Singapore, Dubai, Frankfurt, London, New York, Vancouver. 16 students can't get home to Thailand (and quite a number of staff can't start their vacations) because the escalating political situation there means all airports are closed. All this was announced at closing assembly, 11:00, on the covered courts. 600 students and 300 staff and faculty, huddled under high tin roofs, rain whipping in from all sides. Thank you to the departing teachers and volunteers, best wishes to those students moving on, a moment of silence for the KIS alum, chief of Mumbai Police, killed last night. Students and staff families are all safe. A final prayer and then they let us, freezing and wet, go back inside.
Two American colleagues have cancelled their holiday trip. They were going to Rajasthan, and then Delhi, and then coming back South. Now we're wondering. It would be overreacting, I think, to modify our plans. But then it's just so tempting--on this tired, sad, uncertain day at the end of a long teaching semester--so tempting to think of home; of a return flight that would only cost a little more than a month travelling in India; of shopping malls, mom-food, reliable electricity, real coffee; of watching Raptors basketball on a blue couch by a warm fire (dry wood!) while white snow whips the window pane.
I slept at a friend's place last night. She's got power (most of the time), and hot water, and a tv. We went to sleep around ten--when the power went out--and woke up to it still out. As is often the case when one lives far from home and close to violence, I got first wind of what happened from concerned family half a world away. I guess the attacks were better timed for your news cycle than ours. Plus the whole power-out thing. What is there to say?
Appalling. Pathetic. Yeah, again, Pathetic.
It's been a long day here at KIS. Exams finished yesterday, and students are heading down the flooded mountain, one busload at a time, home. Home to Chennai, Bangalore, Delhi. Mumbai. Lots going home to Mumbai. The vice principal's office says: All flights to Mumbai, going ahead as scheduled. Home to Seoul, Singapore, Dubai, Frankfurt, London, New York, Vancouver. 16 students can't get home to Thailand (and quite a number of staff can't start their vacations) because the escalating political situation there means all airports are closed. All this was announced at closing assembly, 11:00, on the covered courts. 600 students and 300 staff and faculty, huddled under high tin roofs, rain whipping in from all sides. Thank you to the departing teachers and volunteers, best wishes to those students moving on, a moment of silence for the KIS alum, chief of Mumbai Police, killed last night. Students and staff families are all safe. A final prayer and then they let us, freezing and wet, go back inside.
Two American colleagues have cancelled their holiday trip. They were going to Rajasthan, and then Delhi, and then coming back South. Now we're wondering. It would be overreacting, I think, to modify our plans. But then it's just so tempting--on this tired, sad, uncertain day at the end of a long teaching semester--so tempting to think of home; of a return flight that would only cost a little more than a month travelling in India; of shopping malls, mom-food, reliable electricity, real coffee; of watching Raptors basketball on a blue couch by a warm fire (dry wood!) while white snow whips the window pane.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Gazing, Grazing
I recently came across an interesting article on white expats in Jakarta and their experience of being, usually for the first time, in the racial minority. It was about the "Othering gaze," about being stared at, about no longer being white-invisible. The typical reaction is to do anything to escape the gaze: sunglasses, ipod, look down/up/blankly ahead/away, avoid gazing crowds. Avoid, distance, create a hermetic seal between self and gazing other.
Here, tourists gaze. Kodaikanal locals are used to the foreigners who have been here with the school since before there was a Kodaikanal town. It's gendered, though--or at least, my reaction is.
The gaze of Indian male tourists is unpleasant and I usually react as described above, occasionally giving a dirty look, occasionally responding with a real hello, depending on my mood. It is easy to imagine they are not only staring at whiteness, but are also objectifying a body; who knows what is truly behind the stare.
I've become a little mischievous with female tourists who stare. Usually, they come in school groups--or at least walk the lake in large, somewhat ordered packs. They REALLY stare, and it has a different quality, it is a gaze at the strange. I am strange. They stare hard, and nudge each other, and whisper, and point. So...I've started matching their stare. For amusement. I will meet their eyes with even deeper intensity; it usually takes a few seconds for the poor girl to realize I am looking right back. Caught. She then looks away, hides her face, smiles sheepishly, even shrieks and ducks, while her friends buzz. I try to smile while staring--as if to say: It's ok, have a look, I know I'm whiter than white, have short hair, am wearing jeans...but why not say hello, or vannakam, while staring?
Yesterday I was having a coffee and doing some marking (Hilltop bakery has finally accepted the fact that I will show up daily and sit for close to an hour); a group of seniors was talking loudly at the next table. Privileged Indian youth, heatedly debating whether to apply to colleges in the UK or the States. One young man was arguing in favour of the States--preferably the midwest--because whenever he walks the streets of Paris or London, he creates a spectacle. In the States, he disappears. Magnified/melted away. A young woman countered that America has no culture, so she will be applying to UK schools instead.
In exactly two weeks, I will be boarding a train in Chennai, bound for Agra...Delhi....Rajasthan...Rishikesh....Varanasi...then back south for two weeks of yoga at the Neyyar Dam ashram and Kerala beaches with Ficklius and our cousin. It goes ever faster.
Pics: someone got into our trash, check out his toupee; mum's package with bestest new thermal top and earrings finally arrived:
Here, tourists gaze. Kodaikanal locals are used to the foreigners who have been here with the school since before there was a Kodaikanal town. It's gendered, though--or at least, my reaction is.
The gaze of Indian male tourists is unpleasant and I usually react as described above, occasionally giving a dirty look, occasionally responding with a real hello, depending on my mood. It is easy to imagine they are not only staring at whiteness, but are also objectifying a body; who knows what is truly behind the stare.
I've become a little mischievous with female tourists who stare. Usually, they come in school groups--or at least walk the lake in large, somewhat ordered packs. They REALLY stare, and it has a different quality, it is a gaze at the strange. I am strange. They stare hard, and nudge each other, and whisper, and point. So...I've started matching their stare. For amusement. I will meet their eyes with even deeper intensity; it usually takes a few seconds for the poor girl to realize I am looking right back. Caught. She then looks away, hides her face, smiles sheepishly, even shrieks and ducks, while her friends buzz. I try to smile while staring--as if to say: It's ok, have a look, I know I'm whiter than white, have short hair, am wearing jeans...but why not say hello, or vannakam, while staring?
Yesterday I was having a coffee and doing some marking (Hilltop bakery has finally accepted the fact that I will show up daily and sit for close to an hour); a group of seniors was talking loudly at the next table. Privileged Indian youth, heatedly debating whether to apply to colleges in the UK or the States. One young man was arguing in favour of the States--preferably the midwest--because whenever he walks the streets of Paris or London, he creates a spectacle. In the States, he disappears. Magnified/melted away. A young woman countered that America has no culture, so she will be applying to UK schools instead.
In exactly two weeks, I will be boarding a train in Chennai, bound for Agra...Delhi....Rajasthan...Rishikesh....Varanasi...then back south for two weeks of yoga at the Neyyar Dam ashram and Kerala beaches with Ficklius and our cousin. It goes ever faster.
Pics: someone got into our trash, check out his toupee; mum's package with bestest new thermal top and earrings finally arrived:
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