Dear Tesla~A letter while Mommy is in India

Dear Tesla,

    Hi honey!  How are you?  I am doing very good helping with the children here. I am raising money to buy kitchen tools, like knives, cutting boards, vegetable peelers and other things for the orphanage. They only have two cutting knives in the kitchen!!

sugar peas 001

 

The kitchen staff working hard to make breakfast for 100 people!

The kitchen staff working hard to make breakfast for 100 people!

   I am also raising money to buy the boys a new cricket bat because their’s broke. The boys play cricket which is similar to baseball but there is only one base and home plate. They taught me to play and said I am really good at it. My friend Caitlin also likes to play cricket with the boys. Their coach invited Caitlin and I to play in the cricket tournament this weekend and if we are not working on painting a fence or a school, we will play with them! I very excited to be asked to play on their team.

cricket 026

    We have sanded the boy’s and girl’s playground equipment and the big fence around the campus. It has been hard work!  We are finished painting the playgrounds and have started painting the fence. It makes my back hurt, but the children’s school and playground look so pretty!!

sanding 011

     Today my classmates are going to see the new land the school has bought so they can build more homes for children with no parents. My classmates will also go see a beach, but the beaches here are not pretty. They are dirty and no one swims in them. I’m going to stay at the children’s school and help with things that need to be done.

   I have been going to prayer meetings everyday and really enjoy hearing the children sing church songs. My classmates and I sing and pray with them and we read the Bible everyday. The children here love Jesus very much just like you and I do! After prayer we like to talk and take photos. Tonight I am going to give them message at the boys home and tell them about David and Goliath.

HOINA 026

 

   I love you very much and miss you! I will be home again in 11 days. I still have so much work to do here but I can’t wait to see you again.

Love,

Mommy

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IF ANYONE WOULD LIKE TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE FUNDRAISER, DONATIONS CAN BE MADE THROUGH PAYPAL TO GIRLBOXER1970@YAHOO.COM.  THANK YOU FOR ANY CONTRIBUTIONS MADE. EVEN $5 GOES A LONG WAY IN INDIA!

~P.

Hospitals in India

Healthcare in India

I had my first ever tour of an Indian hospital on Wednesday. Those who know me well know that it takes something rather monumental to bother me. This not only bothered me, I didn’t go into the second hospital until my professor came outside and told me to come in, but that is getting ahead of my story.

The first hospital, King George Hospital, is run by the government. I knew it was a bad sign when the departments were spelled incorrectly outside the hospital. I realize India uses the British form of English, but trust me, even the Brits aren’t this creative in their spelling.

As soon as we walked into the lobby area I was mortified to see a sign hanging, posted with used syringe needles. Are you freaking kidding me? How can these people be nurses and doctors and still use a needle to hang a sign thanking 2013 for the lessons they learned and claim to be prepared for 2014? Just the fact the sign is hanging there, held by needles, meant they haven’t learned jack shit.

Our first stop was the emergency room area. There wasn’t any action at the time so you would think someone would take time to clean up after the recent rush of patients, but that wasn’t the case. My skin began to creep looking around. The stacking plastic chairs transformed into wheelchairs…wow, that is creative in fulfilling a necessity. Rust is obviously a huge problem in India as the humidity is enough to keep my hair curling and turn all metal into dust. On our way to the dermatology treatment room I noticed the direction to pick up the swine flu. We did not go that direction, thank you Jesus.

In the room that is designated for skin care I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell people don’t develop more skin diseases from just entering. This was supposed to be where you go to get rid of a rash, not pick one up. There should never be a standing bowl of water for a wash area anywhere in India. It’s an invitation for the mosquitoes to gather and multiply and the one sink that was in the room I wouldn’t touch with gloves on much then yet wash my hands. Either the sink couldn’t be completely turned off or no one ever bothered to try because the water that is supposed to be conserved just ran in a thin stream the entire time we were in this horrid room. I’m sure we left with a skin disease.

We passed the laboratory and I chose not to enter. I couldn’t get past the fact that Dr. Frankenstein probably had a nicer set up. We exited King George (he should be rolling over in his grave to have this joint named after him) and everyone but me re-entered in another area. I had zero interest in seeing anymore filth. I told my classmate, Caitlin, I wasn’t going in and she passed the word to our professor. He wasn’t concerned, but while I was out there a local started trying to talk to me. I had no clue what he was saying since I don’t speak Telegu. He pulled out a plastic sleeve similar to what our car insurance card might be used for and it said police on it. I almost laughed since he obviously was NOT a police officer. He must have thought I was a foreigner who just fell off the turnip truck. I just kept saying English, English and then another local stopped and translated that this man wanted to know if I needed help. I said “No, I am waiting for my friend inside.” The second man passed this on but I suppose the wannabe cop wasn’t happy. He went and found a real policeman and said something to him. The officer asked me if I needed help and I repeated myself. He nodded and motioned that I could resume sitting. No sooner had I sat down and Fyfe came outside and told me to come back into the hospital of King Vile, I mean George. I went along, not pleased, and viewed more unbelievable sights.

After entirely too long we finally left the first hospital. The next one was a hospital that practiced Ayurvedic medicine. I stayed on the bus with six of my classmates. We had seen enough. Caitlin, the only one of the six of us who is studying to be a doctor said even she had seen enough and preferred dead people over the tragic condition of King George hospital. Caitlin is studying to be a coroner. I hope after she graduates medical school to follow her around at work one day. That will be incredibly interesting and dead bodies can’t smell worse than India. I did snap a few pictures of the city while we waited for the rest of our class. It’s amazing how many houses can be built in one small area by just stacking them on top of each other and praying to the god of support beams they don’t come crashing down on a family of fifteen in the middle of the night.

We drove past the Bay of Bengal on our way to the maternity hospital. The ships on the water were eerie and the caught fish drying out along the road did not make anyone hungry. Imagine that.

I chose to go into the maternity hospital because I just love babies and was curious to see if there would be some hygienic improvement because infants were being born here. It was minimal. With the great concern about the spread of AIDS in this county, the methods of handling blood and newborns was just shocking, and I’m not easily shocked. There is NO privacy for any patients. We were allowed to look at patient records, walk through treatment rooms and get this, enter a delivery room while the mother was being stitched up. Her baby had JUST been born and she had passed the placenta. Had we not been at the Ayurvedic Hospital, we probably could have witnessed the birth. They cleaned the baby off and wrapped her in a blanket, placing her under a warming lamp. I asked if I could take her picture and the nurse said yes. Amazing.

Next we went to the maternity ward where the recent mothers and babies stay for about two days. I felt crowded when I shared a room with another mother. I can’t imagine giving birth and spending two days in that crowded nightmare. After passing through the ward we went to the NICU or infant intensive care. We were all shocked when they welcomed us in, just had to take off our shoes. The doctor had on ripped jeans and was all about prying the baby’s eyes open to show she had jaundice. I would have taken his word for it. He even offered to let one of the nursing students touch the baby’s back but she politely declined stating she didn’t have on gloves. We saw boxes of gloves, but I don’t recall a single employee using gloves. I guess the gloves are reserved for heavy bleeders. The doctor said babies born at six months or earlier do not live. He said it so matter of fact it took us a while to realize that preemies had zero chance of living in India and even those born at full-term were still at risk.

So many women have the HIV virus in India that there is a constant line of pregnant women waiting to be tested. From what I understand, having the virus while pregnant does not mean your child will be born with the virus so all mothers get tested. If they are positive, they are informed that breastfeeding will pass on the virus, but so many mothers have no way of buying formula they nurse their child and infect them rather than let them starve. I, and I’m sure everyone reading this post, cannot imagine being in a situation where I either let my child die of starvation or infect them with a disease that has no cure. This experience has opened my eyes to the amazing health care we receive in America and how grateful we should be that our government gives a damn. There was nothing about this Indian hospital that made me believe there was any true desire on the government’s behalf to improve the quality of life and health care for Indian citizens.

After returning to the HOINA campus, I seriously considered pouring bleach over my entire body.

I may never recover from seeing this. Click the first thumbnail to view India’s governmental disgrace. (Purely my opinion, of course)

~P.

India~Where people are happy even if they are poor

Journal Prompt~Poverty in India

Unless you are a Bollywood star or an owner of a seriously successful business, I don’t see that there are any wealthy Indians. During our tour of Northern India, when our guide said the buildings we were looking at were the homes of wealthy Indian citizens, I just shook my head. If that is wealthy, I can only imagine what the poor homes looked like. I didn’t have to wonder for long. There are way more shacks and crumbling houses than solid houses of the “wealthy.”

Suddenly my townhouse IS the Taj Mahal.

Suddenly my townhouse IS the Taj Mahal.

Poverty is everywhere. While at the hotels we watched music videos featuring beautiful landmark like looking backdrops and one of my classmates asked, “Where the hell is that place in India?” and my response was, “Nowhere, I’m sure it’s a sound stage.” This country is poor, living conditions are poor, the people are poor. There is no where that isn’t affected, even those who are “rich” must still live among the poor and therefore are in some way part of the problem for which there is no cure. No magic wand will fix the broken system or erase the, smog, trash and pollution that has infected this country. It is really sad because the people here are caring, kind and gracious and all of them are hard-working, even if it is just sweeping the dirt and trash off their sidewalk, into the street. I have noticed that there are people (untouchables) that collect the trash and take it somewhere—I imagine to burn—so there is some attempt at keeping the towns clean.

The caste system will never change. It may have been abolished and then outlawed, but the Indian citizens still honor the system, carrying on the tradition, marrying within their working class and rarely escaping to a better life. Children are made to sell cheap trinkets or postcards on the streets or even worse, flat out beg as tourist gather in an area. It is easy to fall prey to the begging children because they are so pitiful, sometimes carrying babies with barely a stitch of clothing and never wearing diapers. Many of the beggars don’t speak but just raise their hands to their mouths to indicate they want food. It is hard to ignore them as we are so accustomed to over-indulging and hate seeing someone starving in the street but we are not supposed to start handing out food or money because they will follow us.

The children at HOINA are so full of joy, it is difficult to remember that they are orphans and far below poverty stricken. Most have only two outfits, pajamas, and one toy or personal possession. Every morning then have breakfast and they are served meat (not beef, duh) once a week, fish once a week and all the other days they eat vegetarian meals. Lunch is taken to their schools rather than the orphanage paying for lunches in school. I don’t feel the children here are poor because their basic needs are taken care and they are happy.

There is a big discussion with poor and happiness. In America, I am poor by the standards of the state. I receive health insurance and food stamps to care for myself and my children. It frustrates me when my classmates respond to my statement that all of India is poor because the basic needs, hygiene and infrastructure is not met for its citizens with, “Well, that’s objective.”  I responded, “No, it’s not objective, dirt is dirt and it affects everyone, rich or poor.” And I didn’t get any further responses to my statement.

My next blog will be about the governmental hospitals we visited yesterday. If you want to appreciate what we have in the United States (or your own developed country for my readers who lives outside the USA) read this next blog post. The health care system blew my mind.

Love,

~P.

How India Affects Your Senses

Journal Prompt: What in India has affected our senses?

I would say it is impossible not to have every human sense affected while visiting India. So I’m going to break down the sense and list what the affects have been for me personally.

Eyes:

India is both beautiful and ugly. While riding in the train and looking out at the countryside I could appreciate the beauty it held with the lush grass and trees. Once away from the towns, the dust does not settle on ever item and the beauty is able to how through.

luciousness

lusciousness

On the other hand, in the towns and cities the pollution, trash, dead animals and fecal waste are impossible to ignore. Human and animal feces and urine is everywhere from the sidewalks, roadways, train stations, back alleys, etc. The bathrooms on the trains go directly to the tracks and it’s just a hole to pee and poo in. I, by the way, mastered the art of the pee/poo hole….there is no avoiding the smells.

How to pee on an Indian train.

How to pee on an Indian train.

The garbage is piled up nearly everywhere and animals as well as humans pick through it in hopes of finding anything edible or of some type of value. Also affecting the eyes is the constant smoke of things being burned with the purpose to dispose of trash, keep warm or for ceremonial purposes.

2 train ride 054

Taking a wiz

Taking a wiz

There are also beautiful monuments and tombs in India. The Red Fort, The Abandoned City and of course, the Taj Mahal were breath-taking.

HOINA is beautiful, full of colorful mosaics and smiling children and adults. If I were single and childless, I could live here and make this my life.

Day 1 HOINA 089

Ears:

The noise at times is nearly unbearable. The constant horn blowing is fucking annoying as hell. This took me the longest to adjust to because I am mentally agitated by beeping, tapping and clicking noises. This ranges from someone chewing with their mouth open or constantly sniffling (happens often in India, not just by the Indians) to the horns blowing incessantly. The only time it didn’t bother me was New Year’s Eve during the day when I laid down for a nap and the horns almost sounded like music as I drifted off for a two hours snooze.

Beep freaking Beep!

Beep freaking Beep!

At HOINA, it is much quieter, at least after the children go to bed. LOL I enjoy listening to the wild animals, especially the birds. They chatter and sometime sound like screaming monkeys. The baby goats are adorable and they mew like kittens and the cows….well, the cows go moo.  There are no foxes here.

A 6 day old kid!

A 6 day old kid!

Nose:

The smell of India with the exception of the food is just vile. Vile really isn’t a strong enough word to describe the smell. First of all there is the fecal matter and urine that reeks, followed by the burning of wood or cow poop that also affects the eyes. The trip on the Ganges was the most unpleasant experience as far as smells were concerned. I wrapped my face in my sweater to keep the smell from permanently damaging the lining of my nostrils. The cremation ceremony smell was unpleasant, not that I expected anything less but seriously, hands down, the cow shit everywhere is the worst. Sacred or not, their poo is rank.

One smelly sacred cow

One smelly sacred cow

The polluted Ganges River

The polluted Ganges River

At least at HOINA the entire campus and the road outside of the orphanage is clean. There is nothing they can do about the polluted stream running through the property, but all trash is promptly removed and we are able to breath fresh air! If only all of India were this clean and pleasant to smell. The children are given daily showers and the building are swept and mopped after every meal.

The stream through HOINA is green with a top layer of oily slime.

The stream through HOINA is green with a top layer of oily slime.

Mouth:

The food is amazing. There has only been one meal where I did not like anything and I snuck back to my room with Caitlin and chowed down on French’s fried onions, cheddar and bacon squeezy cheese, sliced pepperoni and Pringle’s salt and vinegar chips. We followed that up with the Snickers bars and felt satisfied for the time being. Other than that bad lunch experience, the tastes have been amazing and I am pretty much willing to try anything. This morning Sarayna and I were watching Tupreti cook and thought she was shaving cheese. A small piece fell to the table where Sarayna and I were snapping sugar peas. Sarayna picked it up and closely examined it, taking a sniff; put couldn’t determine what it was. I held out my hand and she dropped the morsel in. I squeezed in and it was soft so I popped it into my mouth. Saranya’s eyes bulged but I happily announced it was sugar. “Oh my God you’re brave!” she laughed. I laughed also but acknowledged, “Sometimes I act before I think.”

Deliciousness

Deliciousness

sugar peas 001

Touch:

This is interesting to write about because touching and being touched are very different. I am not accustomed to children being so aggressive in touching me. It’s not that I don’t like children but once one, then two, then three are pulling on me, hanging from me or right in my face, it gets overwhelming. And in addition to being overwhelmed the weight of the girls is very stressful to my back. I can feel my spine twisting as the girls wrap their arms around me tightly or pull my arms in different directions. I honestly believe this is why I have found spending time at the boys campus more enjoyable. The boys are respectful of personal space because I am female and do not touch me at all. We talk, laugh and play cricket without my body feeling like it is being pulled in multiple directions. Also, my personal sense of touch came alive when I picked up the cricket bat for the first time and took a swing, smashing the ball into the outfield. Immediately after that my sense of hearing was delighted as the boys let out a loud “Woooooooooo!!!!” followed by clapping and yelling, “Good hit sister!” That made my day, maybe even my entire trip, to feel so accepted in their game. I can’t wait to play in the tournament with them and I feel honored to be asked. Caitlin and I are crushers!!

They love to be close!

They love to be close!

Allie, Sarah, Caitlin and I played cricket with the boys!  It was awesome!

Allie, Sarah, Caitlin and I played cricket with the boys! It was awesome!

Tonight the children open their Christmas gifts…I plan to video tape the mass gift opening!

Peace and Love and only good smells,

~P.

Your flight to India has been moved up 3 hours, RUN!

Things are hectic here so posting on my personal blog and on the college weebly blog is not going to be in any type of order. What I post on the school blog is much different than what I write on my personal blog. My professor thanks me for not letting loose on the school blog. LOL

On day five we were pretty much train bound and traveling to the next city. Let me tell you, if you never traveled abroad, it is exhausting. Good thing I don’t need much sleep to get by. I stayed awake the entire train ride to take photo and talking to the Indian family I shared a compartment with. The parents had two sons, ages 7 and 14, and I think a grandmother and one other family member, perhaps a daughter or aunt with them. They were very friendly, chatting my ear off wanting to know what I thought about Indian culture, the food and customs. I told them we as a group were surprised to learn they cremated their dead by the river and that the bodies of children, pregnant women, priests, monks, victims of snake bites and deadly diseases were sunk in the Ganges River. I used the word surprised because had I said “absolutely disgusting and vile beyond words” they might not have told me I was a very nice American at the end of the trip.

The boys who loved Angry Birds on the train ride.

The boys who loved Angry Birds on the train ride.

When I went to take photos from the train (where I open the compartment door where the “bathroom” was and basically took risks that no one else was going to) I let the sons play Angry Birds on my laptop. They loved that and played for over an hour my classmates told me, until their mom told them they had to lay down for a nap. My laptop was charging so I didn’t mind the boys playing games since I wasn’t using it. I stood for 3 hours taking photos, switching sides on the train car. At times the train moved super fast, so I’m not sure what all my photos will have caught.

This just blows my mind.

This just blows my mind.

Traffic at a railroad crossing. This was not bad. Sometimes they were lined up further than I could see.

Traffic at a railroad crossing. This was not bad. Sometimes they were lined up further than I could see.

They really do each everything but the tracks.

They really do each everything but the tracks.

 

A family living along the tracks.

A family living along the tracks.

My days are a bit of a blur so I’m just going to pick up where I left off on my last post and I believe that was day 4 when we went to the Brahmin priest ceremony on December 30th at the Ganges River. The next morning was when we went back the river for the boat ride and to see the cremation ceremony. Let me tell you it freaked us out to see people not just bathing in the river, but drinking it too. It stunk so bad it nearly gagged me and I have a pretty high tolerance level for smells. I was surprised to learn dolphins live in the river also but now that I think about it, I believe I recall reading that dolphins sometimes bring the sunken bodies up to the surface and toss them around like they are play toys. How weird is that? After the boat ride and seeing the sun rise over the Ganges (which was beautiful regardless of the stench) we went back to our hotel for breakfast. After breakfast we went to a rare, silk factory and learned how it was still done by hand on ancient looms. We were in awe of the beautiful clothes and went a bit crazy buying pillow cases, table runners, and scarves. I bought two pillow covers, a blue one with hearts for my mom and a multi-colored on with a peacock for Brian’s mom. I think they will love them. After the silk factory, we had the rest of the afternoon free where most of the class took naps, including me (shocking I know) so we could be well-rested for the New Years Eve party. Let me tell you, that party was off the hook.

amazing rock carvings at the Abandoned City

amazing rock carvings at the Abandoned City

day 6 024

At the Abandoned City in Agra.

At the Abandoned City in Agra.

What they "thought" would hold their water supply...fail.

What they “thought” would hold their water supply…fail.

 

A Hindi temple along the road.

We made a random stop at a Hindi temple along the road. Only Allie and I were into it enough to take off our shoes and go inside.

The original guru of the temple.

The original guru of the temple.

The keeper of the temple and follower of the guru.

The keeper of the temple and follower of the guru.

Allie holds a boa...notice hers is muzzled. LOL

Allie holds a boa…notice hers is muzzled. LOL

 

The entrance to the Red Fort was impressive, to say the least.

The entrance to the Red Fort was impressive, to say the least.

This room was filled with jewels for one of the king's three wives.

This room was filled with jewels for one of the king’s three wives.

The Taj Mahal was unbelievable.  This King LOVED his Queen. I totally believe Brian would build a monument like this for me...at least out of Legos.

The Taj Mahal was unbelievable. This King LOVED his Queen. I totally believe Brian would build a monument like this for me…at least out of Legos.

 

 

Here's the short version of why the Taj Mahal was built based on what the tour guide said and what I could remember without doing real research....The king and queen were so in love with each other they never wanted to be separated. She asked him what he would do if she ever died and he told her he would build her the most beautiful monument in the world to show his love. They had 14 babies and she was pregnant with their 15th when he went off to war with his troops. He was fighting on the front line and she couldn't bare to not be by his side and followed him into the war where she was shot and died. And so the king built the Taj Mahal (Crown Palace) to show his love for Raj Mahal (his wife).  It took 22 years to build and after it was complete he paid the 20 architects a huge sum of money so they would never need to work again, then cut off their thumbs so they could never duplicate the Taj Mahal.

Here’s the short version of why the Taj Mahal was built based on what the tour guide said and what I could remember without doing real research….The king and queen were so in love with each other they never wanted to be separated. She asked him what he would do if she ever died and he told her he would build her the most beautiful monument in the world to show his love. They had 14 babies and she was pregnant with their 15th when he went off to war with his troops. He was fighting on the front line and she couldn’t bare to not be by his side and followed him into the war where she was shot and died. And so the king built the Taj Mahal (Crown Palace) to show his love for Raj Mahal (his wife).
It took 22 years to build and after it was complete he paid the 20 architects a huge sum of money so they would never need to work again, then cut off their thumbs so they could never duplicate the Taj Mahal.

 

We rock!!

We rock!!

We all paid 700 rupees to attend and when we went into the room it was held (which was where we had breakfast every morning) it was deserted. I went back into the lobby to write more for the school blog and around 8:30 or so, my professor Caitlyn came back down and begged me to come up and dance. I told her I would after I was done writing my post. About 15 minutes later my professor came down with the same request. I had just finished and was waiting for the photos to upload and told him I’d be up soon. Maybe 10 minutes later, “Chetahlicious” as they were calling me made her way into the party. They kids had had drank at least 50 oz of very strong beer till and were getting loosened up. Some Indian men had arrived and in no time we were dancing up a storm to both American and Indian music. Gabby had given the dj her ipod so we could hear songs we actually knew. The Indian men were beside themselves, lucking out to attend a party with 13 American females that were ready to party. I bought my first drink and not long after my second and a beer for Gabby. After than an Indian gentleman named Mark bought all the rest of my drinks and even my friends when I said, “Mark, these are my friends from school!” Mark to me he was a doctor and just randomly chose this party to attend, having no idea who would be there celebrating. He said he paid $100 American dollars for entry. I was shocked since it was about $12 for us. When I went to the restroom in the lobby, word must have gotten out about the party because it was packed at the restaurant door with Indian men wanting in. An armed guard made them move aside so I could reenter. Mark (which was a nickname version of his Indian name) was shy at the beginning of the night but by 11 pm he was wanting me to have his baby. LMAO ,I told him I was spoken for. That was too much for me, butat least he was handsome and didn’t smell.

Caitlin, me and Gabby

Caitlin, me and Gabby

Part of Fyfe's Wolf Pack

Part of Fyfe’s Wolf Pack

The Indian men loved when we danced, but they were completely respectful. I felt one pat my ass and I was shocked...later Gabby admitted it was her messing with my head.

The Indian men loved when we danced, but they were completely respectful. I felt one pat my ass and I was shocked…later Gabby admitted it was her messing with my head.

 

                By 11:50 the party was off the hook and nearly out of control. He opted to bring in the New Year in our professor’s room and I made a cool video. Afterwards we all split up, some of us went downstairs to get on the Wifi and others went to bed. I will always choose Wifi over sleeping. A huge commotion started in the party room and the next thing I knew, two men were thrown out of the hotel into the street. I guess they started fight and a it carried on right outside in the streets.

My ticket to Indian craziness.

My ticket to Indian craziness.

Messing with Professor FyfeMessing with Professor Fyfe

                OK, break in the story. We just got to the airport in New Delhi and realized out flight was moved up—yes up—three hours so we were raced through the airport and security at break neck speed. I made it on the airplane in probably less than 15 minutes with a bottle of water and most likely, luggage that was seriously overweight. I was totally fine with that though, going through security slow and paying for overweight luggage is a drag. The funniest part of this experience was when our tour bus pulled up at the airport and our guide was waiting along the street. He rushed us off the bus and said our flight was moved up three hours and we needed to run to the plane. None of us moved; we were dumb-founded. He paused and said, “Do you all speak English?” We finally grasped what he was saying and started hauling ass to the airport doors. Damn that was funny.

So we are now on the orphanage campus. They children are just amazing, so happy, healthy and eager to learn. This place is truly a blessing and the founder, Mrs. Large, was most certainly touched by God to create this home for nearly 200 orphaned children. 97% of the donated fund goes directly to the care of the children. It was wonderful to meet the little girl I sponsor, Gayathri. She is shy, which is uncommon here, but very smart and happy.

Gayathri and I

Gayathri and I

Hope you are all enjoying the photos!

Love, peace and joy!’

~P.

So you want to wrap? – YCP Hoina 2013

My latest contribution to the India service learning blog site…check it out and comment on the post.  We love to hear from you!

~P.

So you want to wrap? – YCP Hoina 2013.  <—click me!

Day Three was all about Buddhism – YCP Hoina 2013

Since I’m out of photo space temporarily on my blog I’m just posting on the YCP blog for the time being.  Enjoy!

Miss and Love you all!

Let your comments on the Weebly blog so everyone who is with me can enjoy knowing our blog is being read!

Day Three was all about Buddhism – YCP Hoina 2013.

India~ Day 2

It’s 9PM on Sunday and we are on a train to Varanasi, India.  My classmates are tripping about the train ride because it’s a bit sketchy.  There’s nothing secure what-so-ever and they are young and concerned which I get. I feel kinda like a momma hen, reassuring them they will be fine. I think now that we are all settled in they will feel better.

I have a strong stomach but let me tell you, that train station was worse than any farm I’ve ever spent time on.  Men of all ages just peed down on the tracks like it was a huge urinal.  I realize the toilets on the train go right onto the tracks but it was strange to witness grown men piss in public with no concern of the police walking around the platform.

Speaking of which, the police must not enforce anything in India. We were waiting for our bus to pick us up and I watched (and photographed) a man roll a joint and smoke it.  The police rolled up and one hopped out of the minivan. He walked over to the tokin’ Indian and waved the vehicle around him to park.  I’m glad they didn’t arrest him for smoking that joint, or run him over.  He was all huddled up under a blanket and nearly passed for a speed bump.

I’m getting ready to hit the shit hole. There really is no other way to describe it and from what I’m told, there is no door. Guess any Indian hanging out by the tracks might get a glimpse of my white ass. Hope they have their cell phone ready. We are extremely popular here and regularly asked to pose for pictures with citizens or even holding their babies. Maybe it’s good luck to get a white person to hold your baby and take his/her photo.

That happened at the site of Gandhi’s assassination.  This Indian couple with their four children ages roughly 9 months to maybe 8 years old was beyond tickled when Gabby agreed to hold their baby and pose for a picture. Gabby was also asked by a school boy, maybe 12 years old, to pose with him while his friend took the photo.  She agreed and afterwards Fyfe told her they like to photo shop naked bodies onto the heads of white women.  Strangely, we found that amusing rather than offensive.

Caitlin and I just hit the head. I handed her my camera to make a permanent record of me doing the squat over the hole.  There are slightly raised platforms in the shape of shoe prints to indicate where to put your feet.  Well, shoes, no one would go in that “bathroom” without shoes. I took a napkin from Starbucks to wipe with.  Who knew all those napkins I’ve been saving up would come in so handy?

I realize I’m jumping around about day two in India. I blame it on the lack of sleep and the inability to focus in a linear fashion. We had a very late lunch, around 2 pm, in a very fancy restaurant. None of us were dressed appropriately but when you have the money I suppose it doesn’t matter what clothes you have on. I’ve been super lucky with eating the food. Nothing has made me sick and I’ve liked the taste of everything.  At breakfast I ate these little potato cakes and donut shaped cakes dipped in an onion and pepper sauce. I was asked if I wanted an omelet and I said, “Yes please.” There was no cheese in the omelet but there were onions, peppers and Indian spices. I had two pieces of burnt toast (my fault for not watching the toaster) with butter and a mixed jelly that had the taste of vodka. I found it all delicious.

The mosque we visited today was impressive.  The largest mosque in India. I paid the 300 rupees to take my camera in. My souveniers are my photos so if I have to pay to take photos, I will. No one else coughed up the cash but I said I would share my pictures cause I’m nice like that. Karma you know…I am in the right country to be throwing out her name. If only I could get her to visit a few people still back in the US…

We took a rickshaw ride and let me tell you that were more dangerous than hold the cobras yesterday. My driver was a skinny dude and I had Fyfe with me so “puffer” as he smoked while he tried to haul my professor and I around New Delhi had his work cut out for him. Let’s just say I got some great photos and videos as he hauled our asses around at break-neck speed.  At one point we passed all the other drivers as I stuck my head out and yelled, “We kick your slow asses!” much to our driver’s amusement. The one thing that sticks out isn’t the close calls as he whipped in and out of traffic, but the electrical cords zipped tied together like octopi with juiced up legs waiting to explode into flames. Amazingly, our guide said there has never been an electrical fire. Hell, I’ve had several and they were just from one toaster and a hand-held mixer.

The market today was interesting to say the least. As tourists, we are walking targets and Indians are seriously aggressive when it comes to selling their wares. And the street urchins…forget about it, they will sell their souls to make a sale. Well, basically their parents will sell their children’s souls cause their fat mother’s are sitting along the street with babies while the children run around with beaded necklaces and cheap ball point pens hawking them to food for their mother. I would say because the baby needs a new pair of shoes, but the baby was naked sans a sweater. I suppose that cuts down on diapering costs…forget about the shoes.

We ate at the McDonald’s in New Delhi. McDonald’s here is different in that there are no beef products. Cows are sacred and McD’s doesn’t get a free pass. So there are other options, none that I would recommend. In fact, according to Caitlin, the McAloo Tiki smelled and tasted like BO. I’m sure no that we’ve smelled the fecal tracks of New Dehli, the McAloo Tiki was nearly delightful. I ordered a fish sandwich meal, something I never order in the US so I felt I was actually living large. The sandwich looked tiny on the normal size bun so I guess the US really does make their serving sizes larger. It was ok, I mean, its McDonald’s and not a Big Mac.  How great could it be?

By 7:10 pm our “guy” still hadn’t arrived with the train tickets. We were all excited to be traveling on a train where we could sleep.  Funny how that became terrifying after the train resembled a New York subway car…but worse. Never say things can’t get worse.  They can ALWAYS get worse.

I’m reflecting on my shopping today. I honestly didn’t spend that much money as things are really cheap, especially with the money exchange.  I bought 5 outfits for our time at the orphanage, only to be told I got the wrong type of shirt.  Guess what, it’s going to have to work cause I’m not buying more. I bought some gifts for family (Mom, Suz, Tesla, Brian, Blaine and Matthew) and for my friends. Nothing fancy but I think items they will like. I didn’t tell anyone I’d buy them a gift personally so anything should be a nice surprise.

The kidlings are now following my example and writing in their journals. I’m the only one who brought a laptop so they are writing with a pen and notebook. I brought my smartpen and notebook but haven’t used them so far. My eyes are getting heavy as my sleeping pills are kicking in. I think everyone has come to terms that no one is going to yank their curtain back and rape them. I’m ready for some sleep.

I miss Tesla so much and Brian too. I talked to Tesla early this morning (which was about 9 pm for her) and also skyped with Brian. He is so happy for me to be on this trip but misses me as much as I miss him. I feel bad because I’m super busy but I know time is probably going slow for him. Nothing like absences making the heart grow fonder and I wouldn’t have believed my heart could grow fonder for this man. Mark my word, by the end of 2014, we will be happily married. 😉

It is now 12/30/13 and we just arrived at the hotel in Varanasi and will be going Ganges River later this afternoon.  It’s 11:40 AM here!

~P.

P.S. I ran out of data space on my blog for photos.  I upgraded but the funds are on hold so until they are released, I can’t upload anything.  Talk about frustrating!!

Out and About in India Day One

Day one in India was amazing. It started with a buffet breakfast where I tried everything that wasn’t Western.  I know what Frosted Flakes tastes like, I’ll pass on that. I got a good giggle out of my classmates who gave me the heads up that the cantaloupe tasted a little off.  I gave it a try and then let them know it was mango, not cantaloupe.  🙂

Our tour guide had us on the move.  Seriously, we were never given more than 20 minutes at any one place to investigate by ourselves.  I appreciate that she wants to share her knowledge with us but we can also read the sign posted everywhere in English to understand what the monuments or tombs are all about.  This way we could get more Kodak moments in.  With that thought in mind, I asked if we could start our day tomorrow at 9 am instead of 10 am in hopes of taking more photographs.

At Humayun’s Tomb today we were given the usual 20 minutes and I requested 30 minutes which our professor said was fine.  I ran to the bathroom (paid 10 cents for my professor and I to use) and then roamed about on my own.  I was still 5 minutes late getting back but I got photos no one else did!!  I also witnessed an Indian man peeing in the river but I didn’t photograph that. LOL

We ate lunch at a very popular restaurant that I believe was just outside the city named City, which means “head” because at one time, the city had human heads on poles surrounding it.  Yeah, that piece of history was a bit freaky prior to eating.

One thing that doesn’t get old is watching people drive in this country. I find myself holding my breath for these crazy Indian’s on motorcycles and mopeds!

We went to what used to be the governmental buildings while India was under British control. They are very different in appearance than the historical Indian architecture.  Our guide remarked that she didn’t feel Britain conquered India because when they left, they left behind the beautiful buildings, libraries, museums and so much more than what would have ever been here had Britain not taken control.  I guess she has a pretty good outlook on India’s past.

The culture and architecture is quite amazing. I was fascinated by the huge fountains that changed colors and noticed there was a sign posted in front of them.  I said to my teacher, “I bet that says ‘no swimming'” but he had no idea.  I asked our guide when we passed them on the way back from viewing the stretch of presidential area (that was once the British’s headquarters) and she stopped to read the sign. It said, “Do not enter the water! Danger due to electrical current!” That should keep people out because I know in Philly, PA, “No Swimming” doesn’t mean a damn thing on those fountains.

I fell asleep briefly on the bus. I’m not sure how that was possible since the constant horn blowing is enough to drive me crazy. I can’t stand beeping noises, or dinging of the seat belt warning, or even someone tapping their fingers.  I guess that means I was really tired.  That power nap came in handy. I managed to talk one student into venturing into the market area with me.  We ate chicken fried rice and chicken egg rolls until we thought we’d explode.  Even with her buying a soda, our total bill was 245 rupees which is less than $4 and she had leftovers!

Tomorrow we are going to a mosque, then to the place where Gandhi was assassinated and then catching a train that night to Agra to see the Taj Mahal in the morning.

Check back for more….I can seem to post pictures right now, only one uploaded.  Check my Facebook page if you would like to see more!

Checking out the College and Tomb of Alauddin Khalji built in 1296-1316 AD

Checking out the College and Tomb of Alauddin Khalji built in 1296-1316 AD

Good night all!

~P.

At the airport and Cabana Hotel – YCP Hoina 2013

Detail from our first day of travel.  Nothing to exciting yet but we get excited about even the little things….like the fuel pouring out of the wing of our first airplane.  That was fixed and two and a half hours later we were on our way.

At the airport and Cabana Hotel – YCP Hoina 2013. <—click it!