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:
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Diagnosis: Diwali
I have a case of mountain fever, with a touch of frazzled nerves. The tourists came up in droves, starting last Friday, for Diwali, and were an especially rowdy group. With fireworks. Lots of fireworks. One even threw a firework AT me and a friend while we were strolling around the lake.
So I've been feeling a little antagonistic towards this town, school, this country, bovine creatures and their offerings to every
street and footpath, incessant honking, the monsoon....
A little homesick, a lot cranky, certainly not in the mood for Diwali.
But then monkeys were playing outside my living room this morning!
Le singe ne fume pas une pipe, Eddie. Mais les singes sont sur le tuyaux!
And no school after lunch!
Afternoon visit to temple for Diwali puja!
The chance to wear a sari can work miracles.
So can impromptu photoshoots of gorgeous silk kurtas and new saris!
(No cameras allowed inside the temple...)
Evening sweets! and (sigh) more fireworks.
Dark mood banished....
Happy Diwali ~ Namaste.
So I've been feeling a little antagonistic towards this town, school, this country, bovine creatures and their offerings to every
street and footpath, incessant honking, the monsoon....A little homesick, a lot cranky, certainly not in the mood for Diwali.
But then monkeys were playing outside my living room this morning!
Le singe ne fume pas une pipe, Eddie. Mais les singes sont sur le tuyaux!
And no school after lunch!
Afternoon visit to temple for Diwali puja!
The chance to wear a sari can work miracles.
So can impromptu photoshoots of gorgeous silk kurtas and new saris!
(No cameras allowed inside the temple...)
Evening sweets! and (sigh) more fireworks.
Dark mood banished....
Happy Diwali ~ Namaste.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
sigh....
A Tuesday morning pause: no classes until 1:00 and my mind wanders from a daunting pile of planning and marking. Staff computer lounge on main campus. A full-of-light room; skylights and tin roof overhead (a full-of-noise room, too, when the rain pelts the tin roof) and a whole-southeast-wall window. The giant eucy tree outside of ever-changing bark colour and pattern, and tiny pert green and blue birds that gently tap at the window panes.
I am contemplating a nose stud. They are just so beautiful; a little point of light near the eyes, near the smile. Spencer's sells little bindi packs for 5 rupees and I got a set of 10 stick-on diamondesque jewels yesterday. Left side? Right side? This is one to contemplate for at least a month.
I am contemplating a nose stud. They are just so beautiful; a little point of light near the eyes, near the smile. Spencer's sells little bindi packs for 5 rupees and I got a set of 10 stick-on diamondesque jewels yesterday. Left side? Right side? This is one to contemplate for at least a month.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
chats et chiens
The monsoon has arrived.
Apparently, what we had before (warm sunny mornings, mist rolled in and temperature dropped at noon, heavy rain between 3 and 5, clear evenings) was just "weather."
Last Saturday night, I walked out of a social gathering to heavy heavy fog. Woke up Sunday morning to the sound of rain falling--first time waking up to rain in Kody.
It has been alternately foggy, drizzling, or full-on downpouring since.
They say it'll be like this til the end of November.
My ayah hung the washing out to dry on Monday afternoon. Rain? No matter; the clothesline is strung under a 6-foot-deep roof, well protected from all but the most driving side-pour.
Tuesday: clothes don't seem to have dried at all. Hmmmm.
Wednesday: clothes are wetter than when they emerged from the washing tub. Curious, I observe the line from my doorway in the middle of a particularly drenching bout of rain. No raindrops reach my laundry. It is definitely not getting rained on.
Thursday: yes, still getting wetter; and drawers are getting very empty. Is my wet laundry absorbing moisture from the air? Yes. My wet laundry must be absorbing moisture from the even wetter atmosphere.
Logical solution: string a clotheline in the sitting room and keep the fire going til the clothes dry.
25 matches, several bins' worth of crumpled newspaper and good kindling later...no go. No fire. Even paper won't burn. It just sort of steams. The kindling will catch....then sizzle, then go out. Logs? Hah.
This could present a problem. I'm already working with a meagre wardrobe. 6 more weeks of damp or dirty clothes?
Apparently, what we had before (warm sunny mornings, mist rolled in and temperature dropped at noon, heavy rain between 3 and 5, clear evenings) was just "weather."
Last Saturday night, I walked out of a social gathering to heavy heavy fog. Woke up Sunday morning to the sound of rain falling--first time waking up to rain in Kody.
It has been alternately foggy, drizzling, or full-on downpouring since.
They say it'll be like this til the end of November.
My ayah hung the washing out to dry on Monday afternoon. Rain? No matter; the clothesline is strung under a 6-foot-deep roof, well protected from all but the most driving side-pour.
Tuesday: clothes don't seem to have dried at all. Hmmmm.
Wednesday: clothes are wetter than when they emerged from the washing tub. Curious, I observe the line from my doorway in the middle of a particularly drenching bout of rain. No raindrops reach my laundry. It is definitely not getting rained on.
Thursday: yes, still getting wetter; and drawers are getting very empty. Is my wet laundry absorbing moisture from the air? Yes. My wet laundry must be absorbing moisture from the even wetter atmosphere.
Logical solution: string a clotheline in the sitting room and keep the fire going til the clothes dry.
25 matches, several bins' worth of crumpled newspaper and good kindling later...no go. No fire. Even paper won't burn. It just sort of steams. The kindling will catch....then sizzle, then go out. Logs? Hah.
This could present a problem. I'm already working with a meagre wardrobe. 6 more weeks of damp or dirty clothes?
Monday, October 13, 2008
Noah and the Archaeoceratops
KIS is a Christian organization. At the elementary school, the students learn a verse of scripture every week and have regular classes in Religious (Christian) Education. Last week, the coordinator mixed things up a bit; instead of a Bible passage the kids learned about Noah's Ark, and the Arky Arky song.
(Remember? The animals, they came in, they came in by twosies, twosies,
The animals, they came in, they came in by twosies, twosies,
Elephants and kangaroosies, roosies,
Children of the Lord....)
Every grade level at KIS elementary studies a different theme each month; Language Arts, Science, Social Studies, and specialist classes are all supposed to integrate this theme. I loosely tie Art units to the theme: for instance, 4th grade is starting a geology unit, and we are going to do clay, and learn about the physical properties of clay that make it mouldable, how it forms naturally, etc.
I brought Two by Two, my favourite Barbara Reid book from Canada, with the intention of using it to set up a unit on plasticene. Two by Two tells the story of Noah's Ark. So when the Arky Arky song sprung up all over campus, I thought, Aha! Opportunity to integrate Art plan with Bible Studies instead of the usual themes, and score major brownie points with my boss. And, I am just about to start a new unit with my pre-K, KG, gr1, gr2 nightmare class....we could start plasticine instead...yes...perfect. Hmmmm, how could it work? 1 class singing the song and talking about the story, then read-aloud Two by Two...talk about how the pictures were made...look closely at the pictures. Next class, get familiar with plasticine and just play. 3rd class; make animals from the Noah's Ark story, or just make your favourite animahhhh----
Uh oh.
Grade 1/2 just started a new theme: dinosaurs. They have been drawing dinosaurs, talking dinosaurs, and playing dinosaurs out the wazoo for the last few days and I see no reason for this to let up until the end of October.
In fact, I've already told the class that for their next unit, we are going to be writing stories and making books about dinosaurs. (so cool: texture-rubbings in various colours, then free-form cutting of dinosaur shapes and dinosaur-era fauna to produce collage illustrations, a la another really cool kiddie-lit author, Eric Carle. Except he uses paint instead of rubbings...doesn't matter).
Someone is going to want to make a plasticine dinosaur.
Someone is going to ask whether there were any dinosaurs on Noah's Ark.
Someone is going to ask WHY there weren't any dinosaurs on the boat...which leads to....Miss Mac? Miss Mac? Are there dinosaurs in the Bible, Miss Mac?
Hmmmm. Can I run with this? Could we turn it into an integration of flood-story and fossil-record evidence that the earth is way way way way older than the Bible says?
Is it possible I won't get severely reprimanded for planning (delighting in) this project?
Maybe we can write a story as a class. And then illustrate it. With texture-rubbing collage scenes and photographs of plasticine sculptures. About why Noah wouldn't let the dinosaurs on the Ark. "How the Dinosaurs Went Extinct; the Biblical Version," just so.
My inner scientist/archaeologist/secular humanist cringes.
The part of my brain that isn't sure whether this will offend certain member of this community quavers.
But the writer, illustrator, rebel-teacher, in me wants so badly to nudge the kids in this very creative direction...
Potential plot-lines:
1. Noah lets the dinosaurs on the boat, but when they walk up the plank it cracks in two (cracks in twosies?) under their weight. They fall into the rapidly rising flood waters and drown.
2. While Noah builds the boat and his sons and their wives gather food and other supplies, the dinosaurs decide to record this epic event by painting and drawing the humans and all the animals on some cave walls in southwest europe. The dinoartists get so into it, they miss Noah's All-Aboard call. In the meantime, glaciers descend from the north, covering all of Europe under a sheet of ice three miles high. When the dinoartists emerge from the cave, finally happy with their art, they starve and freeze to death in the glacial climate.
3. Noah was going to let the dinosaurs on the boat. When all the various dinosaur species showed up at the loading dock, Noah said that due to space restrictions, only one dinosaur species would be allowed to board, to continue on the name of all dinosaurs forever and ever. Understandably, the various species thought this was a little unjust. Their chicken-sized brains were incapable of coming up with any solution other than to charge the loading dock, a dino free-for-all competition to save themselves from extinction. T-Rex decided (1) he was king of dinosaurs and so should be the one allowed on the boat, (2) this was an excellent opportunity to feed. He ravaged the melee, killing every dinosaur and enjoying a most excellent meal. Unfortunately, the meal turned out to be his last: just as T-Rex stepped onto the plank to board the boat, his mate at his side, a very small meteor (about the size of a pea) plummeted from the sky and struck T-Rex directly in the temple. Instant death. T-Rex toppled sideways off the plank, knocking his mate off balance and carrying her with him. They fell into the rising flood waters and drowned.
4. Noah decided that that the dinosaurs were too big to come aboard. However, he recognized that some of the dinosaurs were aquatic, and encouraged them to swim behind the Ark along with all the other swimming creatures. They did. Unfortunately, the Ark (with the swimming creatures in tow) was drifting somewhere over the north of Scotland when the flood waters started to recede. Just as the Scottish Highlands were about to emerge from the water, the Ark turned south, and the swimming creatures followed, including Mr. Swimming Dinosaur. Mrs Swimming Dinosaur was last in line, and got trapped in a valley-cum-lake, where she remains to this day (Mr. Swimming Dinosaur died of grief).
5. Noah, wisely, decided that adult dinosaurs were simply too large and ate too much to be permitted on the boat. However, in the interests of future biologists, he brought two dinosaur eggs aboard. They would be carefully nurtured aboard the ark, and allowed to hatch, grow up, and reproduce in the new, post-flood world. Unfortunately, on day 39, someone forgot his scientific ideals, got hungry, fried the dinosaur eggs and enjoyed them with three rashers of bacon, black coffee, and toast.
(Remember? The animals, they came in, they came in by twosies, twosies,
The animals, they came in, they came in by twosies, twosies,
Elephants and kangaroosies, roosies,
Children of the Lord....)
Every grade level at KIS elementary studies a different theme each month; Language Arts, Science, Social Studies, and specialist classes are all supposed to integrate this theme. I loosely tie Art units to the theme: for instance, 4th grade is starting a geology unit, and we are going to do clay, and learn about the physical properties of clay that make it mouldable, how it forms naturally, etc.
I brought Two by Two, my favourite Barbara Reid book from Canada, with the intention of using it to set up a unit on plasticene. Two by Two tells the story of Noah's Ark. So when the Arky Arky song sprung up all over campus, I thought, Aha! Opportunity to integrate Art plan with Bible Studies instead of the usual themes, and score major brownie points with my boss. And, I am just about to start a new unit with my pre-K, KG, gr1, gr2 nightmare class....we could start plasticine instead...yes...perfect. Hmmmm, how could it work? 1 class singing the song and talking about the story, then read-aloud Two by Two...talk about how the pictures were made...look closely at the pictures. Next class, get familiar with plasticine and just play. 3rd class; make animals from the Noah's Ark story, or just make your favourite animahhhh----
Uh oh.
Grade 1/2 just started a new theme: dinosaurs. They have been drawing dinosaurs, talking dinosaurs, and playing dinosaurs out the wazoo for the last few days and I see no reason for this to let up until the end of October.
In fact, I've already told the class that for their next unit, we are going to be writing stories and making books about dinosaurs. (so cool: texture-rubbings in various colours, then free-form cutting of dinosaur shapes and dinosaur-era fauna to produce collage illustrations, a la another really cool kiddie-lit author, Eric Carle. Except he uses paint instead of rubbings...doesn't matter).
Someone is going to want to make a plasticine dinosaur.
Someone is going to ask whether there were any dinosaurs on Noah's Ark.
Someone is going to ask WHY there weren't any dinosaurs on the boat...which leads to....Miss Mac? Miss Mac? Are there dinosaurs in the Bible, Miss Mac?
Hmmmm. Can I run with this? Could we turn it into an integration of flood-story and fossil-record evidence that the earth is way way way way older than the Bible says?
Is it possible I won't get severely reprimanded for planning (delighting in) this project?
Maybe we can write a story as a class. And then illustrate it. With texture-rubbing collage scenes and photographs of plasticine sculptures. About why Noah wouldn't let the dinosaurs on the Ark. "How the Dinosaurs Went Extinct; the Biblical Version," just so.
My inner scientist/archaeologist/secular humanist cringes.
The part of my brain that isn't sure whether this will offend certain member of this community quavers.
But the writer, illustrator, rebel-teacher, in me wants so badly to nudge the kids in this very creative direction...
Potential plot-lines:
1. Noah lets the dinosaurs on the boat, but when they walk up the plank it cracks in two (cracks in twosies?) under their weight. They fall into the rapidly rising flood waters and drown.
2. While Noah builds the boat and his sons and their wives gather food and other supplies, the dinosaurs decide to record this epic event by painting and drawing the humans and all the animals on some cave walls in southwest europe. The dinoartists get so into it, they miss Noah's All-Aboard call. In the meantime, glaciers descend from the north, covering all of Europe under a sheet of ice three miles high. When the dinoartists emerge from the cave, finally happy with their art, they starve and freeze to death in the glacial climate.
3. Noah was going to let the dinosaurs on the boat. When all the various dinosaur species showed up at the loading dock, Noah said that due to space restrictions, only one dinosaur species would be allowed to board, to continue on the name of all dinosaurs forever and ever. Understandably, the various species thought this was a little unjust. Their chicken-sized brains were incapable of coming up with any solution other than to charge the loading dock, a dino free-for-all competition to save themselves from extinction. T-Rex decided (1) he was king of dinosaurs and so should be the one allowed on the boat, (2) this was an excellent opportunity to feed. He ravaged the melee, killing every dinosaur and enjoying a most excellent meal. Unfortunately, the meal turned out to be his last: just as T-Rex stepped onto the plank to board the boat, his mate at his side, a very small meteor (about the size of a pea) plummeted from the sky and struck T-Rex directly in the temple. Instant death. T-Rex toppled sideways off the plank, knocking his mate off balance and carrying her with him. They fell into the rising flood waters and drowned.
4. Noah decided that that the dinosaurs were too big to come aboard. However, he recognized that some of the dinosaurs were aquatic, and encouraged them to swim behind the Ark along with all the other swimming creatures. They did. Unfortunately, the Ark (with the swimming creatures in tow) was drifting somewhere over the north of Scotland when the flood waters started to recede. Just as the Scottish Highlands were about to emerge from the water, the Ark turned south, and the swimming creatures followed, including Mr. Swimming Dinosaur. Mrs Swimming Dinosaur was last in line, and got trapped in a valley-cum-lake, where she remains to this day (Mr. Swimming Dinosaur died of grief).
5. Noah, wisely, decided that adult dinosaurs were simply too large and ate too much to be permitted on the boat. However, in the interests of future biologists, he brought two dinosaur eggs aboard. They would be carefully nurtured aboard the ark, and allowed to hatch, grow up, and reproduce in the new, post-flood world. Unfortunately, on day 39, someone forgot his scientific ideals, got hungry, fried the dinosaur eggs and enjoyed them with three rashers of bacon, black coffee, and toast.
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