last day here

(delayed, originally written wednesday 7.9)

I'm writing this on a bittersweet note: today was our last day at the home. Tomorrow, we head to Bangalore for a night before flying north to Delhi on Friday. Though I would have liked to spend one more day teaching, today the nuns took us volunteers on a two hour drive to the village of Maradiyur to visit the site of an orphanage under construction. I use the phrase "under construction" leniently. Currently, there isn't much more to see than three nuns living in a small home on five acres of land, but their optimism is incredibly encouraging. Mike, Home of Hope's volunteer coordinator, mused to us on the jeep ride about devoting substantial time next year to the completion of the construction of the Maradiyur home and school. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. It's even more remote than Josephnagar, the nearest city being Hassan, two hours away. Somehow, though, I doubt being off the beaten path will hinder these nuns from accomplishing their goals.

We had a chance to do some local sightseeing as well, which was refreshing. Our first stop of the day was Bylakuppe, a Tibetan Buddhist settlement between Hassan and Maradiyur. Bylakuppe, too, is isolated, but in a much different, much less physical sense than Maradiyur and Josephnagar. Bylakuppe is isolated in a cultural sense; its people and societal norms are incongruous to that of the rest of Karnataka. No real question as to why, though. For one, almost everyone there is a Tibetan émigré, and most of them have clung to the customs of their homes to the north. Buddhists are a slim minority in southern India, and it hardly surprises me that they've clung together, especially considering many of them were exiled from Tibet.

Aesthetically, Bylakuppe was spectacular. The Golden Temple - the monastery's most sacred, most ornate chamber - featured golden incarnations of three Buddhas, towering sixty feet tall above the marble floors. (see: http://travel.paintedstork.com/blog/image/golden_temple.jpg , though that photo hardly does it justice).

But enough about the tourism.

Saying goodbye is never fun, and as I bid my farewells to the seventy smiling girls tonight, I realized how incredible my time at the home has been. I arrived in the south of India thirteen days ago with little idea of what to anticipate; I leave it with a great appreciation for many things: the work of the Salesian Sisters in India, the efforts of my elementary school teachers (it's not as easy as one might expect), and, most importantly, how fortunate I really am. I realize that sounds trite, hackneyed, clichéd, whatever, but it's true.

So, tomorrow morning, I'll leave here for a six-hour drive on India's fantastically dystopian highway system, a drive that will bring me from strange, unadulterated simplicity to what many define as "reality." For the next week and a half, I'll be nothing more than an American tourist in India, my camera swinging around my neck as I buy t-shirts at the Taj Mahal. In a way, I'll feel guilty - because frankly, the transition from life in an orphanage to the opulence of tourist hotels in New Delhi is extreme.

But no worries - I'll be back.

the bandh that brings us together

(delayed post, originally written tuesday 7.6)

After only twenty-four hours, the bus drivers' bandh has resolved itself; however, in spite of its brevity, the strike had a remarkable impact on the social infrastructure of the state of Karnataka, even in towns as remote as Josephnagar. In this regard, the bandh, organized in response to the hike in fuel prices by the leftist regional government, was successful - according to an article in the Deccan Herald (an Indian English newspaper), many major roads in Karnataka and bordering states were virtually deserted yesterday. Whether or not the National Democratic Alliance (the local ruling party) will abandon its efforts to increase fuel prices remains unseen.

My point is, it's impressive how the unification of a group of people can have such a dynamic effect on, well, everything. I point to the closing of the small school (with a primarily boarding student body) in a semi-isolated village for evidence. But again, I'm not complaining. It was nice to be able to play with the kids outside of the classroom, and even better to be able to rest.

Since we leave Josephnagar on Thursday and have plans to visit a nearby orphanage under construction tomorrow, today will be my last day teaching. I'm manning the troops alone (the other volunteers are back at the doctor's office), which is a bit daunting. By now, though, I've come to realize my strengths and weaknesses in the classroom. I'm considerably better with the older students, as I mentioned earlier, simply because the language barrier is far less concrete. This isn't to say I've neglected the younger students entirely - they're the ones I usually play with in the schoolyard.

It'll be hard to leave, no doubt. But I also don't doubt that I'll return at some point, ideally for a longer stint. My mom wasn't enthralled with my proposition of spending a gap year here, but it was worth a shot.