A.M. in India

Silver

2010-07-22T08:07:00.002+05:30

The people in the valley down below must be thinking that every cloud has a silver lining. Yes, it does. The silver lining is up here in Mussoorie.

Two years ago,

2010-07-21T07:30:00.004+05:30

when I first arrived in India, I hated monsoon. Hated and feared. The many days and nights of rain. The ever-present clouds, above and below, clouds floating into my house. Damp sheets and towels. Mold. Leeches.

Things change. I don't know if I love monsoon now, but I appreciate it. I appreciate the views. The flowers. The cool, clear air that is left behind. The new life.

And speaking of new, I have a new house, and a new view:

In this panorama, the high school building is at left and my house at far right:

Flowers, with a mossy wall behind. That moss will dry up and disappear in the coming months. Hopefully, this blog won't do the same.

Sweep

2010-07-18T16:01:00.008+05:30

At the risk of seeming like a product endorsement, here are some pictures I took using my new little Sony's "sweep panorama" feature. If you click on a picture to enlarge it, you should be able to see the details, which aren't always perfect, but still, the overall effect is pretty impressive. Let me know what you think.

If you haven't seen the commercials, what you do is click the shutter and then sweep the camera across (or up or down), following an arrow on the LCD screen. The camera records one continuous panoramic image. I was just testing out the feature, playing around to see what kinds of effects it could generate. But I realize that I've only really done landscapes, not enough with people or at night--those might be the most interesting.

Anyway, a few months back I swore I would never buy another Sony camera again, but I was sold on this feature, especially because I live in an environment that lends itself to these kinds of pictures. Stay tuned for more pictures and thoughts from northern India.

Three days in Leh

2010-07-16T17:36:00.000+05:30

Starting out at the Oriental Guesthouse ...

Stupas in old town

Bread maker

Jewelry sales

Men at work

Old monk

Modern monk

Tired

Many images of Buddha

Incensed

Thikse Gompa

Follow the leader

Going up

The top

18,380 feet

Where rivers are born

And money is made

And prayers are hung

Lookout

Share the road with Wed 'n' Wild

Ride to the top, cycle down

5:15 a.m. self-portrait--first one there

Final sunrise

Sky blue sky

2010-07-14T09:09:00.005+05:30

While most of India is hidden by the clouds of monsoon, the northern state of Jammu and Kashmir is bright and sunny.

View from the guesthouse

Leh Palace

Stupas

On the way to Leh

2010-07-13T11:47:00.000+05:30

Everybody loves a blue-eyed girl

2010-07-12T15:48:00.005+05:30

Eye

Calder mobiles

Avery and I

And sometimes Y

It's a tie

Spiral

Ice cream smile

Magnificent mile high

I believe I can fly

Where in the world

2010-07-12T15:22:00.002+05:30

have I been?

A big prize to the first person to correctly identify this location.

My new blog is just getting going.
This one will feature photos and occasional stories.

Spring colors

2010-02-25T20:34:00.001+05:30

A lucky morning walk.

Subject: A Monkey Took Someone's Yellow Bag & Blue Chappals

2010-02-24T08:56:00.004+05:30

An email from one of my colleagues (an only-at-Woodstock kind of email):

Dear Fearless Middle School Staffers,

I wanted to let you know that I saw a monkey take someone's yellow cloth bag this morning from the MS area outside of the ESL classroom or near the lockers. By the time I saw the monkey, it had taken the bag up to the corner of roof area above the lockers. I saw it take out a blue pair of chappals from the bag, but didn't see if there was anything else in the bag. If any of your students are missing these things (or if you are) you might find them up on the roof.

I hope you all had a good Tuesday.

With attached photo:

Welcome back

2010-02-09T18:30:00.004+05:30

Students returned last night. First day of classes is tomorrow. So today, a storm blew in. At least twelve straight hours of rain and wind and hail and thunder. Quite a display, actually. Here are a few pics from my walk to work.

Spreading International Smile

2010-01-31T10:31:00.014+05:30

On the drive up from Dehra Dun to Mussoorie, there are dozens of roadsigns extolling the importance of trees. There are at least three agencies--the Forest Division, the Eco Task Force, and the Indo Tibetan Border Police--that post them. The trouble is, taxi drivers go too fast and most passengers are too queasy on the steep and winding road to catch all of these important messages. So, for the first time ever, one blogger with a lot of time on his hands has gone out of his way to capture every sign--at least every sign that's in English--for your reading pleasure. (Actually, I know for a fact that I missed one sign--it was obscured by trees and shade so I couldn't get it. Let me know if I missed others and I WILL go back and add them.)

And when you go home, tell them that I have greened this blog for their tomorrow.

Thai time

2010-01-30T10:07:00.001+05:30

A friend recently learned a lesson about spending too much of one's life photographing events instead of living them. He learned it when he lost his camera. So in Thailand for the past ten days I was determined not to take too many photos. Mostly because I forgot to bring along my battery charger. Anyway, here are some pictures from Bangkok and a nearby island.

Thai longboat. For some reason,
the guide kept saying something about 007.

Chowing down at the Floating Market.

Fruit for sale.

Cobra Show.

Snake venom.

How to catch three snakes.

An artist and his muse.

Happy taxis.

A slice of Mussoorie.

Atlanta Hotel staircase.

Hello Kitty bus.

KB Resort on Koh Chang.

Scooter boy.

Island view.

In too deep.

Long Beach on Koh Chang.

Kai Bae Beach on Koh Chang.

At a temple.

Mother and child.

Koh Chang

2010-01-22T12:14:00.002+05:30

Where I'm at ...

Because of a slight travel snafu, I've decided to stay here instead of going to Cambodia. But I guess this isn't a bad place to be for an extra three days.

Away I go

2010-01-17T12:09:00.000+05:30

I'm off to Thailand and Cambodia for 12 days for some much-needed R&R. What, you ask, much-needed rest? Haven't you been free since mid-December?

Yup. The life of a teacher is oh so challenging, trying to fill up those many weeks of vacation.

Snow

2010-01-16T08:32:00.004+05:30

It actually snowed the other day. I say actually because the past several weeks have been sunny and crisp and somewhat hazy from the pollution down below. Big, fat, sloppy flakes fell and tried to settle but quickly melted. That didn't stop hundreds of tourists from the plains from coming up to get drunk and make snowballs in the slush. I barely got off my couch.

Later, though, I did step out onto the terrace for a shot of the remaining clouds ...

and the sunset the next day ...

Mindrolling

2010-01-15T08:09:00.006+05:30

Just outside of Dehra Dun is the relatively new Mindrolling Monastery, located in the largest Tibetan settlement in northern India and home to the largest stupa in the world.

Monks head to afternoon prayer.

A worker keeps the buildings looking new.

The view while circumambulating the monastery.

Visitors are dwarfed by the stupa.

Signs remind visitors (especially couples) that this is a holy place.

Long strands of prayer flags and bells.

This place is absolutely stunning in the sunlight.

Flowers.

A fountain.

A massive statue of the Buddha.

And then my camera battery was exhausted. I'll have to return for more pictures and to go inside the stupa, which I was told later is "the best part."

Sikh festival

2010-01-14T23:44:00.000+05:30

Last night the bazaar was brightly decorated for a Sikh festival. After nightfall, giant bonfires were lit in the middle of the road, and dancers took to the street, accompanied by music pumping from massive speakers.

Haridwar and Rishikesh

2010-01-13T14:17:00.007+05:30

Pictures from three days in two holy cities along the Ganges. I'll let them speak for themselves.

Fresh and Gibby

2010-01-13T08:41:00.005+05:30

at a temple in Haridwar ...

at a free school in Rishikesh ...

getting Hindu symbols temporarily tattooed ...

with a fellow Chicagoan ...

at a puja ceremony ...

staying warm ...

trying on knock-off gear featuring Gore-Tax ...

taking pictures of ashram girls ...

mindrolling in Clement Town ...

enjoying Limca and Thums Up at the world's largest stupa ...

correctly diagnosed at a coffee shop ...

Dream auto

2010-01-12T17:17:00.001+05:30

I'd love to come back to the States with one of these.

Cow poo post

2010-01-11T09:03:00.000+05:30

I ran into a guy last week, a first-time traveler to India. He had just returned from Rishikesh, a place I described as "full of cow poo."

"I didn't see any cow poo anywhere," he reported. "In fact, the only place I've seen cow poo in India was on the path to your apartment in Mussoorie."

I wasn't sure if Rishikesh had cleaned up its act or if this guy was just trying to disparage my home. In any case, the very next day I happened to travel to Rishikesh. The town turned out to be a peaceful and even beautiful respite from Haridwar. But ... there was cow poo. Everywhere. Here is a series of snaps from the walk from my hotel to the main bazaar.

Anyone saying there's no poo here should probably clean his shoes before entering his house.

Hindustan!

2010-01-08T08:07:00.002+05:30

Traveling around, hanging out with my sister and friends.

And we're lovin' India.

Everybody loves ...

2009-12-30T21:44:00.005+05:30

puppy pictures!

Here are some recent shots of Bachena.

Little soccer star
(It's impossible to steal the ball back from him.)

Chillin' out
(next to the electric heater)

What's up?
(Checking on December flowers)

Say cheese
(on the Eyebrow path)

Slanted

2009-12-29T16:39:00.000+05:30

and enchanted

Would you ...

2009-12-28T12:02:00.000+05:30

ever get tired of this view?

The only problem with it is that you can go weeks without seeing the distant Himalayan peaks. During monsoon, you can't see more than a hundred meters. Now in the winter, even though the skies are clear, the view is often obstructed by haze created by everyone buring wood or coal to stay warm. So you have to enjoy it when it's there.

Temple

2009-12-27T11:54:00.003+05:30

There's a big, magnificent temple on the way to Mussoorie from Dehra Dun. I've never been inside, I don't know why, but I finally did stop to take pictures of the exterior early the other day.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-25T01:30:00.002+05:30

... straight from the Catholic midnight mass.

On the road again

2009-12-24T16:14:00.002+05:30

Reduce

Reuse

Recycle

Signs of Dehra Dun

2009-12-23T14:22:00.004+05:30

We value our time even more,

so stay out.

Can your shoe promise you a nice ass?

Yes, even yaks need to fuel up.

Give him a hand

2009-12-11T12:30:00.004+05:30

It's finals week, so I've spent a number of hours marking exams and writing student report comments. But still, I have been accused of frivolously wasting my time. Why? Because we are playing Angels and Mortals, which is basically Secret Santa. My "mortal" is a French teacher, and I've spent the week pestering him with crossword puzzles about "real" French culture and cuisine (French ticklers and toast) and articles from the Onion. Today I sent him the picture below, which makes sense if you know anything about hand-washing campaigns and the French national soccer team, which made it into next year's World Cup because their star player used his hand to help his team score the winning goal against Ireland. Anyway, thought I'd share, just to show that I am not ignoring my blogging duties.

Click to enlarge

Village people

2009-12-08T07:52:00.005+05:30

Someone remind me to print and deliver these pictures:

From the distance, the village looks colorfully quaint.

A herd of goats approaches.

The goat herders pose.
They were disappointed that they would never see this picture.
And amused that I wanted to take pictures of their goats.

Their village, up close.

The village is a 45-minute ride from Mussoorie,
but it seems that centuries separate us.

Corn drying. More impressive is the intricate, ancient architecture.

More corn, chilies, and something else.

Three little tour guides.
Very shy about having their pictures taken.

OK, so the satellite dish proves that the village
isn't stuck in the ancient past.

Still, the way the people live is traditional, old-fashioned, simple.

Chopin's heart

2009-12-05T09:31:00.004+05:30

This one goes out to some twelfth graders:

As I was heading out of the high school yesterday, I saw a girl sitting in front of the principal's office. I asked what I always ask when I see a student on that bench: "You in trouble?"

"No," she said, "just waiting for my roommate."

"Then why are you sitting with your back to the window? You're missing the sunset!"

"Oh, I already saw it," she said.

"What do you mean you saw it? You looked for a split second and turned around? How can you ignore such a thing? I'm going out there and taking some pictures. Maybe I'll send you one of them."

A few minutes later I saw the girl with her roommate. I asked the roommate if she could believe that someone could ignore such a sunset. "It's pretty," the roommate agreed, "but there was a better one two days ago."

"So you're going to ignore this one, too?" I kept snapping pictures, and a few minutes later one of the librarians walked past and commented on how beautiful the sunset was. "Yeah," I said, "but we're ignoring it. There was a better one two days ago."

Two other twelfth graders joined us, a boyfriend and girlfriend.

"Maybe you guys will appreciate this," I said, pointing. They just shrugged. "This is why you don't understand poetry," I said.

"How is this poetic?" the girlfriend said.

"What do you mean, how? It's the end of the day. That's it. But before the sun fades away it makes one last stab at life."

"Why are you always talking about death?" the boyfriend asked.

"It's because he's almost 40," his girlfriend responded.

"There's nothing wrong with 40," I said. "I heard it was the best decade of one's life."

"How?" boyfriend asked.

"Because you're old enough to know better, but still young enough not to care. Or something like that."

"I guess that makes sense."

A few more minutes, a few more people walked past, totally ignoring the death of yet another day. I asked the four seniors if they wanted to come over for dinner after finals were over but before they headed off for home.

"Yeah," the boyfriend said. "But this time can we cook? And can we finish watching that one thing on Chopin?"

"Absolutely," I said. I turned to the roommates. "Can you believe Chopin's body is buried in France, but his heart is in Poland?"

"Who's Chopin?" one of them said.

"No wonder you don't like sunsets," I said.

"I can't believe I saw his grave in Paris, but his heart wasn't there," the girlfriend said.

"Oh, you've been to the cemetery?" I asked.

"Yeah, and I saw Jim Morrison's grave. And Oscar Wilde's."

"Anyway, it's six o'clock," the girl who didn't know Chopin said.

"That's right," I said. "You're all going to be late for check-in. Get out of here. Let me enjoy this."

Plugged in

2009-12-04T21:27:00.000+05:30

In some countries--Canada, for instance--people plug in their cars on winter nights so that their engine blocks don't freeze. Here in Mussoorie, it's much, much colder:

Sunset and moonrise

2009-12-03T07:40:00.003+05:30

These are from two different days, two different locations, just to show what I do to get away from the mountains of marking I have to do: Sunset from the Chakkar; moonrise from Camel's Back Road. And, no, there's nothing I can do in Photoshop to fix these images.

Streaks and swirls

2009-12-02T06:55:00.003+05:30

Things are looking up

Burden

2009-11-17T06:41:00.004+05:30

On the way back from Witches Hill, we ran across a local family gathering firewood. Old and young, each person had a bundle of sticks to carry.

What a burden, I thought, imagining a Sunday spent trudging down a hill with a heavy load. On my part, I was sweating after having climbed the steep path. I had plenty to complain about--no water, no snacks, and I was tired.

The oldsters set a brisk pace. They had work, and they were going to do it. It was hard to keep up.

The youngsters took their time and eventually were somewhere behind us. It was amazing to realize that they didn't necessarily think of their afternoon task as a time to complain. The entire way, they chattered excitedly, much like any other school kids, and the mountain air was filled with their voices and laughter. I have no way of knowing what they were talking about, but they certainly were having more fun than a great majority of people going about their daily lives.

It must be possible to live optimistically, to find happiness in the everyday, even when carrying an impossible load.

Walk to Witches Hill

2009-11-16T17:40:00.002+05:30

Where do the witches live? Take a walk down past the dorms, past Dhobi Ghat, where the washermen work and live ...

Climb up and up and eventually you get to a tiny little shrine.

And the hilltop is barren of trees, overrun by scrub and wild flowers. A great place for a pup to roam and be free.

And the view through the Sunday afternoon mist is nothing but trees and farms and villages between here and Dehra Dun.

I forget the complete story, but supposedly there's some trace minerals in these hills that absolutely light up in lightning storms; this phenomenon led the British to think this place was inhabited by witches. Interestingly enough, the Hindi name for the hill translates to Fairy Hill. On Sunday, there was no sign of witches or fairies or people, making it a silent and perfect escape.

Ride to the river

2009-11-12T19:25:00.006+05:30

Several thousand feet below in the valley is the sacred Yamuna River, which eventually flows past the Taj Mahal. It takes an hour or so to ride down from Mussoorie.

From a bus window

2009-11-10T06:37:00.009+05:30

One of the best (but scariest and possibly slowest) ways to see India is through a bus window. Check out this map.

From the "Bombay Picnic Spot," it's 85 km to Dharamshala and another 150 km to Chandigarh. That's 235 km, or less than 150 miles. Total travel time? It took us about eight hours. I'm told it takes four to five hours by car.

Why is it such slow going? Here are a couple of pictures from one intersection:

Yeah, it takes a while.

And why is it scary? Check out this road.

It's basically one-and-a-half lanes wide. There are all sizes and speeds of cars, trucks, buses, cycles, tractors, and animals to contend with. It's best not to look outside. But I can't help it ...

... even though I often really want to close my eyes. (And, oh yeah, keep your head, arms, and camera inside the bus at all times.)

When I open them again, there's much to see. Beautiful architecture.

Odd vehicles.

Appropriate road signs. (As if you could go fast.)

Places of worship.

Mass transit.

And why is everyone honking all the time? Because the trucks tell us to.

Need a break for a beverage? No problem.

When we do make a pit stop, the kids raid the concession stand. Favorite potato chip? Lays American Cream and Onion.

And away we go, into the light ...

Dharamshala

2009-11-07T07:45:00.012+05:30

Fifteen minutes into a conversation with a Tibetan refugee, I noticed some of the girls shuffling around, looking restless. One tried to signal me, mouthed some words I couldn't understand, and reached into her purse. I just shook my head.

For the past three days, I had been chaperoning a group of 23 high school students, mostly twelfth graders, in the city of Dharamshala, home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government-in-exile. Though educational, the trip was up to this point mostly exasperating, as it usually is on something like Activity Week, constantly waiting for latecomers, shushing them at night, watching in horror as they look bored or fall asleep during an audience with the prime minister.

This was our last morning in town, and we were visiting the Reception Centre (For New Arrivals From Tibet). After a short introduction to the centre from a staff member, we met a 38-year-old man who had recently arrived. His story was typical for one group of refugees, the ones who risk arrest or worse if they stay in their home country any longer: He and a group of about 40 people had participated in an anti-China demonstration in the capital city, Lhasa. Shots were fired, some of his friends fell, but he and his wife managed to run away with only the clothes on their backs and a scar on his arm from a bayonet wound. They left their 12-year-old daughter behind, hoping she would be taken in by relatives, and made a 23-day trek over the Himalayas to reach Nepal. From there they were taken to Delhi and finally to Dharamshala.

The other typical refugees are: children whose parents send them over the border to receive a Tibetan education (one of the main schools is in Mussoorie); monks and nuns who want to continue practicing Buddhism; and old people who want to meet His Holiness the Dalai Lama before they die. (We had also hoped for an audience with the Dalai Lama, but he was out of town.)

As some students asked questions which were translated by the employee ("When do you hope to return to Tibet?" "If I return, I will be killed."), others were looking like they were up to something. Please, I silently pleaded, just this once don't do anything stupid. Instead, as teenagers often to when you least expect it, they did something wonderful: They discreetly took up a collection for the man and his wife and whispered something to the centre's employee, who accepted the money and quietly rolled up the bills. I saw 500-rupee notes, as well as smaller denominations--plenty of money the kids could have blown on lunch and snacks and souvenirs.

The man looked touched when told of the donation. But when one of the students told the employee to "tell him that we are praying for him and his family," that's when tears welled up in his eyes and he said, "I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

For years, I had heard of the Tibetan struggle for independence; in fact, this year marks the 50th anniversary of the Dalai Lama's exile in India. Growing up, "Free Tibet" seemed like a trendy catchphrase uttered by Hollywood celebrities and pop stars. These days, the cause seems to be less fashionable, and even Barack Obama has refused to meet the Dalai Lama, afraid of Chinese response. Reading about and listening to stories of the struggle, it is evident that the Chinese are close to their goal of eliminating the cultural heritage of the country. Tibetan children are taught in Chinese and sing patriotic pro-China songs. There are now as many Chinese living in Tibet as there are Tibetans. All residents of Tibet, regardless of their background, must speak Chinese to get a white-collar job and won't be served at stores and restaurants if they speak Tibetan. Buddhist monks and nuns have been marginalized, and "reeducated" by their Chinese handlers.

But all is not lost in Dharamshala. The cry of "free Tibet" is slowly being replaced by "save Tibet." Religious and cultural practices are continuing here in India, with young and old practicing the ancient arts, speaking the language, sharing the cuisine with visitors. The government-in-exile is still trying to engage the Chinese, still asking to be allowed to return home. Instead of independence, however, they ask for autonomy, for the right to live in peace.

At the same time, there is a sense of hopelessness. When asked what young people can do to support the cause, Prime Minister Samdhong Rinpoche paused, then said, "Pray for us. But also, pray for the Chinese people."

This kind of answer does not satisfy everyone. We met one man, the owner of a bookstore, who disagree with the Dalai Lama and his government. His more radical approach would call for each Tibetan family to send one child to become a "mosquito," trained to disrupt China by performing small acts of sabotage on the mainland. So far, he has five volunteers.

On a visit to a nunnery, we watched the young women--heads shaved and clad in red robes--debate. One nun would loudly and energetically shout a question and clap her hands, while the second one, sitting on the ground, would respond. If her answer was incorrect, the one standing would perform an inverted slap. With dozens of voices and slaps going at once, the courtyard was a spectacle of noise and animation. This kind of religious training can probably no longer be seen in Tibet, according to the principal of the nunnery.

As we groped for answers to unspoken questions, as we searched for hope in this hopeless situation, we met nuns from Tibet, India, Bhutan, and Korea. One student mused: "At least because of all this, the Tibetan culture is being spread around the world." A small victory for those hoping to "save Tibet."

Dharamshala, India, as seen from my guesthouse room

Tibetan government-in-exile Prime Minister Samdhong Rinpoche

Street scene, from the One Two Cafe

Old and new at the Norbulingka Institute

Ancient traditions

Norbulingka's mission is to preserve Tibetan culture

The sun lights up a temple

A debate at the nunnery

A light-hearted moment

A nearby mountain, which in past years was always snow-covered

Learning to make momos

Making them took almost 90 minutes. Eating was quicker:

5:13 p.m.

5:16 p.m.

5:17 p.m.

Hearing an opposing viewpoint

Street vendors

Welcome to your new home

Introducing a refugee

The centre can accommodate dozens of refugees. We met four.

Signage

2009-11-06T20:51:00.009+05:30

Some signs from the last week of travels:

Being a non-vegetrainer, this place was not for me.

Personally, I'm trying to unlearn the habit.

Pierce Brosnan's choice gets a thumbs-up from me.

Another reason to learn how to tie shoelaces.

News

2009-11-01T07:19:00.005+05:30

Three months, three issues of the school paper. Yes, I'm advising the paper, teaching the class. I have a good story about the first issue that I've been sitting on, but that's not for today. Today, I've got pictures of kids and teachers all over campus reading the The Tiger. Fun.

My journalism students are always amazed that people eat up the paper as they do. But I always tell them: "If you do a good job, people will read it." And they do.

My news is this: I'm heading to Dharamshala with a bunch of twelfth graders for activity week. Not sure if I'll post while I'm away, but who knows.

Swine flu greetings

2009-10-31T18:08:00.007+05:30

I hear the pig is in your way.

Hope you leave the swine flu behind!

Get well soon, FresH20.

Mussoorie night lights

2009-10-30T07:08:00.002+05:30

Winterline buzz

Alumni

2009-10-28T18:59:00.005+05:30

Our school was treated to appearances this week by two very distinguished alumni: On Monday, Amelia Rudolph, founder of Project Bandaloop, a San Francisco-based dance group that performs on ropes, often suspended from buildings and tall structures. Today was Chris Anderson, the curator/man responsible for the Internet presence of the influential TED Conference. If you aren't familiar with TED, click on the link and check it out.

I don't have pictures of Anderson, but here are some from Monday's performance by Project Bandaloop. Group members danced on the gym's pillars, in mid-air, and then outside on a side wall. I guess from time to time I don't mind classes being interrupted for a special event.

Everest

2009-10-25T20:57:00.003+05:30

The Park Estate, AKA the George Everest House, looms in the distance, marked by streams of Tibetan prayer flags.

Graffiti-covered walls reveal local sentiments: Free Tibet.

This is where Sir George Everest lived, a few kilometers outside of the Mussoorie Library bazaar. Everest was the British surveyor general in India, working down in Dehra Dun.

Interestingly, you cannot see Mt. Everest from here, although the view of the Himalayas is magnificent.

The mountain, by the way, has nothing to do with Everest. According to Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air, it was known to the Tibetans as Jomolugma (which translates to "goddess, mother of the world") and to the Nepalis as Deva-dhunga ("Seat of God"). But when the British "discovered" the tallest mountain in the world in the mid-1850s, they named it after their previous surveyor general, Everest.

One can imagine the fresh air breezes and views that Everest enjoyed from his balconies overlooking the valleys.

As it is, the air is still quite clean, crisp and cold in the October shade, but almost hot in the sunshine.

There's a 20-kilometer hike the loops past here, in case anyone's interested.

Diwali lights

2009-10-18T17:45:00.004+05:30

Yesterday was the festival of lights, Diwali.

The quad had been decorated by elementary school kids.

Nature put on a light show.

Then it was our turn, down at dorms.

A picture that didn't come out was of Dehra Dun,
where masses of fireworks lit up the entire city.

It seemed that everyone was in on it.

Up, up and away.

The prettiest display turned out to be a local family's simplicity.

Swinging away ...

2009-10-18T16:55:00.000+05:30

... a lazy, sunny Sunday.

(Another coincidental song playing while uploading a photo: "Elevator Love Letter" by Stars, including the lyrics, "Don't go. Say you'll stay / Spend a lazy Sunday in my arms / don't take anything away.")

Staying informed today for tomorrow

2009-10-16T11:04:00.007+05:30

Presenting a guide to the local newspaper.

1. Name: Garhwal Post. Garhwal was a former princely state in what is now the state of Uttarkhand, where I live.

2. Price: 1 rupee, which is a little less than 2 cents. Take that, American news dailies!

3A. Slogan 1: THE PREMIER ENGLISH DAILY. I would hate to see anything that's less than premier.

3B. Slogan 2: FOR TOMORROW'S PEOPLE! What about those of us living here today?

4. Page 1 Advertisement: For what else? Gold & Diamond Jewellery. I once marked a student's paper wrong for spelling jewelry this way. Anyway, the only other ad in this spot might be for motorcycles.

5. A large photograph celebrating child labor: The caption reads, "Every tiny hand to the wheel to prepare 'diyas' for Diwali!" Incidentally, Barack Obama lit a diya at the White House yesterday. Maybe it was made by this little girl.

6. National and local news: Here are leads of some stories that did not make page 1:

The Rotary Club, Dehradun organised a general Health Camp at Government High School in Deepnagar, here (Page 2).
A constable of the Dehradun Police, Mohit Kumar, has been arrested on charges of stealing a mobile phone (Page 5).
Shigall Hill International Academy organised a one day Autumn Festival at it premises, here, today (Page 9).
Azad Ansari is a fan of Bollywood star Salman Khan. But not just another fan - he dresses up like a woman in salwaar kameez, earrings and the works, and firmly believes that he is the superstar's "girlfriend" (Page 13).

Day at the races

2009-10-11T16:34:00.003+05:30

Friday was Sports Day, which meant no classes. Just an entire day of track and field excitement.

And very lame cheering sections.

But afterward, sitting in the middle of the field, looking around, I thought about what a wonderful location this is to spend an entire afternoon.

Scoundrels

2009-10-11T16:20:00.003+05:30

Some tenth graders pose with Bollywood director Vishal Bhardwaj, who was at the school last night to screen his recent blockbuster, Kaminey.

Bhardwaj spoke before the screening and said that the title was inspired by Mussoorie. No one got the joke. Kaminey means "scoundrels." Similarly, no one but the kids in this picture will understand what's so humorous about them being here. But, whatever, I can't give away why they are such little kaminey.

I Hate It Too

2009-10-10T18:12:00.004+05:30

Sometimes when I have pictures and nothing to say, I post a poem or song lyrics or some such thing, just to add text to an otherwise colorful page. Today I happened to have my iTunes playing random songs as I was importing my most recent flower pics and this one by Hum came on. Damn, it sounded good. Wonder if anyone else feels nostalgic listening to this band.

Morning gray ignites a twisted mess of foreign shapes and sounds,
I wish the ceiling was the ground.
I'll send you flowers made of silent tiny pieces of the sun
To help me make up for this one.

While you send me tidal waves of love when you're alone,
and I can't remember what you do.
To find a way to turn the signal back to heaven sounding blue
And bring me faithful back to you.

If we break off gently in slow motion,
Spinning outward into space.
My hand, always firm and gently at the wheel,
I discreetly hold my face.

And I need you to give it meaning,
I need you to share the view.
Or it becomes a time for me to love myself,
Like every other thing I do.

Past and present

2009-10-07T18:57:00.003+05:30

Chatted on Facebook with one of my former advisees earlier today, and his advice to me regarding the blog: More stories, fewer photos. ("Write more about us!" he said, and I thought, you guys are gone, away at college, what am I supposed to write? But here goes anyway ...)

Speaking with former students is a good guage as to how I'm doing as a teacher. I always ask them how it's going, and if they think they were prepared. Now that they're gone, there's no need for them to lie. It turns out that speaking with former students is also a good way to plan what I am going to say to current students. So ...

All day today, in all my classes, I said, "You guys remember Jag? I chatted with him earlier. And guess what he said about college?"

Students in one of my classes were pretty funny about it:

"He said you did an excellent job of preparing him for college!"

"Well, something like that. But he said more."

"He said that the warm-ups really helped. He said you're one of the best teachers. He said college is easy compared to your class!"

"No, actually he said almost the exact opposite. He said that college is great, but that there's a lot of reading and writing, way more than he expected." And I told them that I've recently had emails from two other former students, and they said the same exact thing.

And then the kids all knew what was coming.

For my English 12 kids, read the entire chapter of The House of the Spirits, there's a quiz tomorrow. For journalism kids, sign up for on-line tutorials. For English 11, read a chapter in a textbook and revise an essay, including new information from the chapter.

"Thanks a lot," my current students are now saying to my former students.

And I just smile, saying, "I don't want to get the same email message from you in a year or two."

When I Was Young

2009-10-06T06:37:00.003+05:30

Live fast
Be a spark and glow a while
You'll be dead a long, long time
Be a shooting star

And in one mad moment
Burning bright
Light the night
And make us stand in awe

Live fast
Be a supernova
Explode now while you can
Then flashing in the pan
Be a streak of red
Against the grey

Do it young
Don't let time slip away
And make us real
And feel
And see
Your beauty
Live fast.

--Bob Geldof

Valley

2009-10-03T17:45:00.004+05:30

Quarter Break, Day 4: Into the valley

I set off with a couple of friends on a 90-minute ride into the valley, away from the plains, deep into non-English-speaking India. They had their camping gear, ready for a night in the wilderness. I went along for the ride and returned in the early afternoon.

There they go. I took this shot while driving.

We made a pit stop near a colorful farm and watched women tending the fields.

And away they go.

In the village of Thatyur, a hub for farmers and villagers, jeeps stand waiting to take people and cargo to towns near and far.

Individually wrapped sweets and treats await.

We cross a tiny stream, which Mussoorie--many miles away--pumps for drinking water.

Along the river, a closeup of some crop I don't recognize. Some sort of bean, I guess.

Family portrait of Casey and Christina. They moved on from here, and I headed back.

At the top of a bend, a prayer stop.

Almost a fisheye view of trees.

Last winter when I visited a hill station in southern India, I was wowed by the farms. Now that I think about it, they've got nothing on Uttarkhand.

Until recently, I might have said that California's Highway 1 is the most beautiful drive. Now I'm not too sure. Maybe everything looks better, is experienced better, from the back of a bike.

Photos of pride and shame

2009-10-02T14:19:00.001+05:30

My students do a short oral presentation on photos of national pride and shame. They choose a country and select historic photos and talk about them. Today, I can easily show these two types of pictures from my hometown (photos from chicagotribune.com):

Pride (I guess)

Last November, I watched Barack Obama's Grant Park victory celebration from my couch in Mussoorie. Today, I watched from the same couch as Obama tried to use his power and prestige to suck up to the International Olympic Committee. Thing is, it was typical Obama, and the BBC commentator mentioned the "Obama rhetorical flourishes." How embarrassing, though, to have Obama say things like "I urge you to choose Chicago, I urge you to choose America."

As I write this, I don't know if Chicago will get the 2016 summer games, but it seems to be the favorite. Personally, I'd vote for Rio. I'd prefer Madrid. I love Tokyo. But I guess I should be proud of Chicago.

Shame (or not)

Another week, another Chicago teen beaten bloody (or dead). This picture is of my street back home. Mine is four houses to the left. This is where a 14 year old was found bleeding after being chased down and beaten with a pipe. Shocking but not surprising. On Chicago Teacher Man, I once wrote about seeing a group of teens waving pipes enter my school's parking lot at about 4 in the afternoon. Broad daylight. Lots of people around.

I guess I don't really know which photo is of pride and which is of shame. On the one hand, the "shame" photo shows my crosswalk, and that could be someone I know on the sidewalk. On the other, the "pride" photo shows my president pleading for the Olympics to be held in a city where gangs of kids attack other kids.

If Chicago does get the Olympics, maybe we can introduce the sport of Beat Down. We have plenty of competitors; hopefully they won't all be dead by 2016.

Down

2009-10-02T13:53:00.005+05:30

Quarter Break, Day 3: There's a waterfall 14 km west of here that's popular only with Indian tourists. I went past last year on my way to a village with a group of ninth graders, and I swore I'd never return. But then I bought a scooter.

The great thing about being on a scooter is that you see things you normally wouldn't.

I'm really glad I went on this drive, because the road was wide and smooth, and the views awesome.

Amazing rock formations.

Kempty Falls is marked by this public toilet.

The waterfall starts somewhere up there.

I was there early, before the tourists and the vendors, so at least it was peaceful.

Not really sure why this is in the guidebooks.

Looking down, you can see evidence of yesterday's visitors, all the trash that gets tossed down.

The ride back was pretty amazing. There were some stretches that I was able to kick the scooter into high gear, and I even took it to about 50 kph. Not exactly a crotch rocket, but riding around on my Hero Honda has made me realize that a motorcycle is in my future.

Up

2009-10-01T16:01:00.006+05:30

Quarter Break, Day 2: Thirty-five kilometers east of Mussoorie--which turns out to be an hour-and-a-half drive on the rugged, twisty mountain roads--is the Surkhanda Devi shrine, a holy Hindu site.

A paved, but very steep, path takes you up two or three thousand feet up from the road, which is already at about seven thousand feet.

You quickly leave the tea stalls and car horns behind.

Indian tourists take horses up the path. Families tend to their animals.

Fifteen minutes of walking and the tea stalls are a distant memory. (Click to enlarge and you'll see them at far left.)

Wild flowers are in bloom in the post monsoon period.

Ring the bell as you walk past. But make sure you take off your shoes first before entering.

One of the site's buildings beckons.

On the opposite end, a bell hangs over the valley below. On clear days, the Himalayas are visible. Today was not a clear day.

An idol stands decorated.

Trip to Tibet

2009-09-30T16:25:00.006+05:30

School let out at 1 p.m. for quarter break. Four-and-a-half days to explore places near and far. Today's trip: Tibet.

Well, not really. There is a community of Tibetan refugees on the other side of Mussoorie called Happy Valley. In fact, it was the Dalai Lama's first residence when he was exiled from his homeland.

Happy Valley is home to a school for Tibetan children and some holy sites.

The architecture is authentic.

The USA has helped out by donating some flower pots. The main contributing country is Germany.

This is the first monastery built by the Dalai Lama in India.

This beautiful place used to be a cow shed.

You can spin the giant prayer wheel. It's quite heavy, but if you spin it fast enough, bells tinkle.

Find out the way to enlightenment and purification.

As you spin the small prayer wheels and repeat the mantra Om Mani Padme Hum, you purify the six realms of existence in suffering. The syllable Om purifies the neurotic attachment to bliss and pride; Ma purifies jealousy and lust for entertainment; Ni purifies passion and desire; Pe purifies stupidity and prejudice; Me purifies poverty and possessiveness; and Hung purifies aggression and hatred.

A short walk up a hill takes you to prayer flags.

Each flag releases someone's prayer into the heavens.

As a gentle breeze kicks in and the flags rustle, you realize you are in another world, another place, somewhere peaceful, where there is hope.

Lane

2009-09-29T17:32:00.003+05:30

I work at a school that everyone seems to know, one of those places that you can mention anywhere in the world and someone will say, "Oh, I know someone that once worked there." Or studied there. Or whose husband or wife or parent knew someone that visited once.

But the fact is that I myself attended a high school just like that.

Today I was conferencing with a couple of parents. Their daughter, born in New Jersey, is here for her junior and senior years to get a global education and get in touch with her Indian heritage.

Her parents and I were talking about something or other, and they asked me what school I had attended.

"I went to a big public school in Chicago," I said. "Of course it was the number one school in the city at the time."

"Which school?" the wife asked.

"Lane Tech."

"Really? My niece went there, too," she responded. "She graduated in 1991."

"Two years after me," I said.

We then chatted about how it used to be number one but isn't anymore, how things change, how no matter where you go, you run into someone with connections to the place.

This was a nice little coincidence because, just this morning as I walked to work, I realized that I've missed my 20-year reunion. During my 10-year reunion, I was living and working in Japan. And as I sat down to write this, I looked at the date--Sept. 29, or 9/29--and that reminds me that back at Lane I was in Division 929.

Something's going on.

Coffee break

2009-09-28T17:24:00.001+05:30

Spent all day Saturday at school. From about 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. I was writing report comments for all my students. After that, I was working with the eleventh graders on the talent show. Such a long day calls for lots and lots of coffee. Luckily, we have a coffee machine that grinds out a pretty OK cuppa, so I can usually stay awake, even on the longest of days.

As I walked past some students for the third time, I stopped to chat.

"I saw on the Discovery Channel something about how coffee can kill you," I said. "Supposedly, if a person drinks 60 cups in one day, he'll die."

One of my guys looked at me and asked, "Sixty? Or sixteen?"

"Sixty. Six-oh," I said. "I want to test it out. This is my sixth cup so far."

And he responded with an all-time cute comment: "Can you please stop? I don't want you to die!"

Saturday night freaks

2009-09-25T06:58:00.000+05:30

Promotional poster for the high school talent show (organized by the junior class):

Drying season

2009-09-24T06:55:00.002+05:30

When monsoon ends, the ferns quickly dry up, glow in the sun, and go away. Looking forward to months of Mr. Blue Sky.

Street lights

2009-09-24T06:52:00.004+05:30

A wedding procession--complete with band, fireworks, dancing--Wednesday evening in the Library Bazaar, as seen from the West End Tavern:

Why I hate soccer

2009-09-20T20:34:00.002+05:30

No, it's not because all my students love it and can't stop talking about it.

I hate it because of the ending of the Manchester United versus Manchester City game today. Man U is the big team, sort of the New York Yankees of the Premiere League. This year, Man City bought a bunch of players, sort of like the Florida Marlins of a few seasons ago, and are trying to run with the big boys. Anyway, I decided to support Man City, not because I care or because I love teams that spend a lot of money, but because I thought it would piss off some true soccer fans.

So, Man U was winning 3-2 with two minutes left. Man City intercepted a stupid pass, and one of their big money guys scored, tying it. In soccer, a tie is almost as good as a win, so the Man City fans (and I) were quite happy.

But here's the problem: Stoppage time. The officials declared four minutes of extra time would be played because of injuries and whatnot during the half. Thing is, the ref on the field decides when to blow the whistle. Five and a half minutes into stoppage time, Man U was making a last, desperate push, the Man City manager was screaming at the refs to blow the darned whistle, and of course, Man U scored. Almost six minutes into stoppage time.

So Man U won 4-3. And seconds after the final whistle blew, the millionaire players from the two teams hugged and hung out. Meanwhile, wannabe fans went back to their marking, stopping only to post angry blog messages like this.

Pop

2009-09-18T06:23:00.003+05:30

It didn't take long for the Michael Jackson knockoff t-shirts to arrive. But it might take a while to sell: This shop still has leftover Nirvana shirts. And one of a little boy giving the middle finger.

Swirl & Tumble Technology

2009-09-13T12:11:00.004+05:30

No ... it's not my washing machine.

I recently started riding around on my Hero Honda Eterno 150cc scooter, which gets "great mileage & power with swirl & tumble technology." And already I've been places within 15km of Mussoorie that I never even saw last year.

Here are some pics from this morning's drive: (Special note to Fresh and Gibby, who will visit in January, and anyone else that wants to join us--We will definitely see the following views when you come out!)

Cross country 2

2009-09-12T17:53:00.004+05:30

Spring, summer, autumn, winter, life is a cycle that can be tracked by its repetitions and annual events. Yesterday I witnessed my second all-school cross country race here. This one was notable because it was rained out twice--originally scheduled for Wednesday, it was held on Friday.

I did not run. Again. I didn't even take photos. The following were taken with my camera by one of my journalism kids. It's sometimes frustrating watching someone struggle with something as simple as snapping pictures. But then again, she did get some really nice shots, too.

Follow the leader

The girl in the lead stayed there and broke the course record.

Easy going at the start.

Which way?

Power running science teacher.

Silently sneaking up.

A burst of energy at the finish line.

Is this fun or what?

More monsoon pictures

2009-09-08T07:11:00.002+05:30

A few brown ferns have been spotted, which means that monsoon is ending soon. (Even though, as I write this, a steady rain is drumming on my tin roof.) So, here are some more photos that will be unavailable in a couple of weeks:

The path to my house.

Showers in the sunset.

Mud sliding into the flagpole area.

The sun tries to make an appearance.

When was the last time

2009-09-08T06:57:00.002+05:30

... you washed your eggs before cooking them?

You ask: Why would you wash them?

To clean off the feathers and poo, silly.

99 monsoon flowers

2009-09-03T14:13:00.006+05:30

My monsoon posts generally deal with clouds and umbrellas. Not today. Today, I will show what the rain and clouds leave behind. This morning, after ducking a heavy but quick monsoon shower, I slowed down to admire the flowers. I don't know what any of them are called, but here they are, in their colorful, wet glory, followed by a poem.

Sonnet 99

The forward violet thus did I chide:
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.
The lily I condemnèd for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both,
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.

--William Shakespeare

Lazy week

2009-08-31T07:25:00.000+05:30

A lazy day can easily turn into a lazy week in the blogosphere. I've got plenty to share, and I'll get on it soon. As soon as I wrestle the ball away from the darned dog.

Lazy day

2009-08-24T16:31:00.004+05:30

Too lazy to drop the ball before nodding off ...

234

2009-08-18T06:24:00.006+05:30

Today is minor milestone for A.M. in India: I now have more posts here than I did in two years of Chicago Teacher Man. I feel sort of weird about it.

And I don't have a story to share, so maybe I'll share yet more pictures of clouds. This kind of post doesn't generate the same kind of response that posts about teaching do, but it's all I've got (and I want to get over the 233-post hump).

These shots were taken over a span of three days from the same spot in Bachena's Backyard, or more properly speaking, from Ms. Rochita's garden--careful, don't step on the flowers!

There's a "monsoon art" competition taking place at the school. Maybe I'll enter one of these:

English class is

2009-08-16T09:14:00.003+05:30

A couple of years back, I wrote about an Application for English Class that I have students fill out. The schools and even countries may change, but my teaching techniques don't. I have modified the application a little, resulting in some different humorous responses I can share.

Students have to plug in personal information and answer questions like "What are your strengths and weaknesses in English class," "List three things that make your extraordinary and/or different from others," and "What (or who) motivates you to pursue your goals?"

Here are some of my favorite responses to the final question, "Complete this sentence: English class is ..."

like chocolate. Its flavor remains even after it's over.
necessary for my future.
where you get to excell and learn an universal language.
~~cool, OK, coolest, good.~~ one of my favorite classes.
very interesting compared to other classes.
a short story.
like a woman, you must cherish every moment before she walks off.
going to be tough but totally awesome!!
a piggy bank.
everything the teacher and students make it
a training ground for oblivious minds.
a philosophy.
where we learn how to transfer emotions into words.
ironic, in how its overall greatness cannot be put into words.
fun when we don't do Shakespeare.
an interesting class but very tricky and difficult where I have to be really confident and attentive.
scary and stressful, but necessary.
a lighthouse in a weather of mist is about to come in any second.
a mystery
a series of thriller movies that makes me awake all the time with tension.
a bittersweet symphony.
boring unless the teacher is fun.
a mobile phone (it helps people to communicate with one another)
not an elective.
English class is a tribunal and I am the criminal being persecuted.

I sure am glad they don't come in with any preconceived notions.

Independence Day

2009-08-16T09:03:00.003+05:30

It was a rainy morning, so festivities were forced indoors.

Student musicians brought in their equipment and set up on stage.

Yesterday was South Korea's Independence Day as well as India's, and students sang their respective anthems.

A professional dance troupe performed an interpretation of Indian history.

After the formal stuff was out of the way, high schoolers took over to dance the morning away.

And then headed down to the quad for a food festival.

Why commute by donkey?

2009-08-11T06:28:00.004+05:30

It'll fit into tight parking spots.

Monsoon tip

2009-08-11T06:23:00.005+05:30

When there's a break in the clouds, it's time to dry the laundry. And chilies. Best drying rack? Tin roof! Rusty ...

Just be ready to gather it up in a hurry when the rain returns.

Action

2009-08-09T16:52:00.006+05:30

What locals do on a weekend afternoon.

Sew.

Wash.

Sift.

Sit.

Stay close.

Lug.

Sell.

Scooter

2009-08-09T16:44:00.004+05:30

I recently bought a scooter. Haven't used it yet because I'm too afraid of the rain and crowded, wet roads. But as soon as I bring it down from the ramp where it's parked, what will I do with it? Here are some possibilities:

Travel far and wide for the perfect photo op.

Grocery shop.

Deliver the goods.

Take the kids to soccer.

First day fun

2009-08-05T18:08:00.004+05:30

Walking to the library during a free period, I spot three twelfth grade guys hanging out with two new kids.

"I can't believe you're teaching them bad habits already," I say.

"Oh, come on," one of them says. "What can I possibly teach them?"

I stop. "Now that you mention it," I say, "you're right. You can't possibly teach them anything."

He laughs, and I go off on my merry way.

Today was the first day of school. I got to meet a whole new batch of kids. And so far, the kids are alright. The eleventh graders are hilarious, because they've heard all sorts of things about me.

During one class, after explaining the syllabus, I asked, "Any questions?" Nobody moved. Nobody looked my way. So I waited. That's one of the questions about teaching, I guess. Can you wait long enough?

Finally, after an uncomfortable 45 seconds, a hand went up slowly. "Yes?" I asked.

"I heard you are a strict teacher," the new kid said. Where did he get that idea, I wondered.

"That's not a question," I said and stared him down.

"Sorry," he said, "someone told me you were strict." He looked at me expectantly.

"So what's your question?" I responded.

"Are you a strict teacher?"

I laughed. "I don't think so. But why don't you stick around and find out for yourself?"

Afternoon stroll

2009-08-02T09:14:00.004+05:30

On any given walk, there's always something new just around the next bend.

Gas delivery

Just did it

Into the void

Car down the khud

Colorful ride

Camel's back

Monkey see

Monkey do

Brazilian restaurant?

Ferns

Cloud lapse

2009-08-02T09:03:00.004+05:30

While hanging out on my terrace, I noticed a puffy cloud below, moving fast across the hillside, heading towards a lonely house. Thought I'd take photos at 30-second intervals to show how quickly these things happen; instead, the result shows how unpredictable the weather is.

Clairvoyance

2009-07-31T07:33:00.005+05:30

What will year number 2 in India bring? Let's look into the crystal beer glass ...

What's that? Wednesday nights at the Tavern?

An influx of youngish, fun-loving staff? Thirty-five people coming out to the first Wednesday night?

More singalongs? The regular "musician" in black giving up the mic for a few tunes, but then returning to belt out the "ooooOOOOoooOOOooo" song?

I'll drink to that!

Yesterday's weather

2009-07-30T06:40:00.003+05:30

It's not easy to say that yesterday was clear or not. Because the weather here follows this rule: If you don't like it, stick around a couple of hours.

1 p.m. Skies are clear, clouds create the monsoon version of the "winter line."

3 p.m. Cloud roll in, threaten to envelop the clock tower.

6 p.m. Skies clear again.

Guide to the night life

2009-07-29T02:25:00.003+05:30

People sometimes ask, What is there to see and do in Mussoorie, India? While it is true that we don't have the neon lights or excitement of New York or Bombay, we do have our own sources of entertainment. The clouds cleared last night, revealing the semester's first clear view of the lights from my terrace.

At top right: the moon; middle right: dorms; bottom right: street light; middle left: the city of Dehra Dun.

...

OK, and here's the view from my doorstep in the morning. The blank space beyond the railing is Dehra Dun again.

Monsoon colors

2009-07-28T16:46:00.003+05:30

Heading off to work on a rainy morning.

Everything is lush and colorful and full of life. Except for all-day meetings, which are dull and lifeless.

Jet lag

2009-07-28T03:40:00.004+05:30

It used to never* bother me, so I would appreciate any advice on kicking jet lag.

Last night I woke up at 2, tossed and turned for an hour before giving up and doing some reading. Today I woke up at 2:30. I've done some reading, which is good, which is something that I won't get to do once the school year begins. I've done some lesson planning, which is necessary because there is never enough time once essays start piling up. But I'd rather sleep.

* Saying "never" is sort of a lie. Jet lag used to bother me a little when traveling home to Chicago, but never when traveling to a new place. There is always so much excitement when going on vacation or relocating to a new part of the world that I'd easily stay awake through the day and into the night, finally collapsing at 1 or 2 in the morning and waking up at a normal hour and, voila, no jet lag. I guess this must mean that I do consider this to be "home."

India 2.0

2009-07-26T07:57:00.004+05:30

My mission for my second year of living and working in India: Look at this place through a new lens, possibly a more upbeat one, one that is experienced and with a sense of perspective, not jaded or morose.

For example: It's monsoon time. Rainy. Humid. Could be morose. There's a leak in my ceiling and new mold growing above that leak. Last year this might have been cause for alarm or unease. This year, I say, Leak? So what! Bring on the water! The monsoon will go away in two months and the rest of the year will be sunny and dry. Mold wants to grow? Let it! It can and will be painted over.

I arrived late last night, 90 minutes late because there was some unattended luggage or something at the Frankfurt airport. Took a taxi home. Yeah, sounds expensive, but here's the alternative (which costs just a little less): Spend the night in a Delhi hotel, take an early morning taxi to the station, struggle with all my bags on the train, arrive in Dehra Dun, and take a taxi up the hill to Mussoorie. I decided to get the traveling done in one fell swoop.

So here's what I noticed about traffic on Indian roads: It appears to be alive. Yes, the traffic itself breathes and moves much like some slithering creature. At 11 p.m., the four-lane road leaving the airport wasn't congested, but there were still plenty of rickshaws, trucks, buses, and cars jostling for space. Faster vehicles swept past the slower ones, not really changing lanes but flowing in and out. My driver, for example, never actually stayed in a lane; he drove down the middle of the street markings, deftly avoiding all obstacles without ever settling into one place. And the horns that last year annoyed simply served as an announcement: here I am, coming through. There's nothing angry about the sound. And to say the drivers are aggressive would be to say that a leach aggressively sucks your blood. It doesn't. It sucks at its own pace, without considering your feelings or sense of perspective.

I tried to sleep, tried to adjust my body clock, but it wasn't happening. And my iPod ran out of juice, so I spent most of the time watching oncoming headlights and distant lightning.

Once Mussoorie was in striking range, two things woke me up to the reality that I was nearing my hill station home. First, the car refused to climb a steep little stretch. I had to get out and walk about 15 meters. That's how steep some of these roads are, in case you've been wondering. Second, the driver and I had to get out and move some rocks that had slid down the hill in the monsoon rain. They weren't huge, maybe five-pounders, but in case you've ever wondered who clears the roads of landslides, it's the drivers and their passengers. Want to proceed? Move some rocks.

So I'm home. My head is throbbing from either the altitude or the lack of sleep or need for caffeine. As soon as my camera battery charges I'll go out and show you this place. Again.

Almost home

2009-07-23T10:42:00.008+05:30

OK, so it's not exactly Delhi, but let's see if I can find a perfect plate of murgh makhani. ...

... Mission not quite accomplished on Chicago's Devon Avenue, but it was still a nice walk and a great buffet.

Away I Go

2009-07-21T09:00:00.005+05:30

I had a true suburban mall movie theater experience today: I went to the matinee of Away We Go, co-written by Dave Eggers, and I was the only one there. This can only happen in a mall, only in the suburbs. It made me wonder if only I like these kinds of movies. Am I that much hipper than the rest of suburbia on a Monday afternoon, or am I that big of a loser?

It was good, though not as good as I had hoped it would be. Still, it was one of those movies one thinks about later in the day. The protagonists bounce around from city to city, meeting friends and relatives as they try to decide where to live and raise their soon-to-be-born daughter. The idea has possibilities, but the movie relies too much on cliches--the plastic people of Arizona, the weird new agey professor in Madison, the way too cool people of Montreal.

Still, it raises questions:

Who are your true friends? And with which of them do you want to surround yourself as you start settling down?
How important is family? Marriage?
It's one thing to fit in as a kid, but how does one fit in as an adult?
Is it really so possible to drop everything and move? To drop roots in new soil?

These are the kinds of things I ask myself as I bounce around the world from job to job, especially as I start saying goodbye to everyone before heading off for another year in India. Yup, away I go on Friday.

My biggest question about the movie, and maybe the reason I couldn't quite get into it, was why didn't these two fairly interesting people have fairly interesting friends? It seemed that none of their so-called friends had anything in common with the couple, and they had no one but the guy's parents back home.

Anyway, check it out for yourself and we can talk about it sometime. Or save your $5.50 and rent it from a Red Box machine in a couple of months. Or if you're like me, you can see if it'll be bundled on a pirated DVD with five other movies for 100 rupees. Then again, if you really want to wonder if you fit in, check it out at a suburban mall movie theater.

Frank McCourt, 1930-2009

2009-07-20T07:51:00.003+05:30

Bummer.

Several summers back, McCourt's book Teacher Man kept me in the profession and inspired me to write about my experiences. His book--about his 30 years in New York public schools--is hilarious, poignant, and true; McCourt admits his insecurities about teaching, much the same way I feel almost every day in the classroom. This New York Times article sums up his teaching days nicely.

Fashion faux pas

2009-07-19T09:26:00.000+05:30

Who is the true owner of this stylish denim shirt? Answer below.

A. Christian

B. Art

C. Mike

D. Sea World dude

E. Max

F. Kevin

G. Jody

H. Kasia

I. Lisa

J. Andrzej

K. Mr. Molitor

L. Lakers fan

M. Seth

N. Ricochet's bouncer

Thanks to everyone who came out last night to my "last Saturday in Chicago." I think I drank enough Guinness and High Life to tide me over for a year.

And the fashion victim is ...

Quotes of the season

2009-07-15T09:17:00.013+05:30

News Item: President Barack Obama threw out the first pitch at Tuesday's MLB All-Star Game.

"He signed a baseball for me and shook my hand, and just went around saying hi to the various guys in the clubhouse, and expressed his love for the White Sox, I guess." -- NL starting pitcher Tim Lincecum on meeting Obama.

"I'm not a Cubs hater. I just don't root for them." -- Obama in the announcers booth.

"Everybody around me was giving me a hard time, saying, 'What the heck, he's wearing White Sox stuff.' That's how we roll in Chicago. We've got the President behind us." -- White Sox All-Star Mark Buehrle .

Old and new

2009-07-14T19:12:00.009+05:30

A few years back ...
Actually, I don't know if it was three, seven, or nine years ago (that's the way it goes when you get old), so I'll say it was a few years back, one of my good buddies was pining for the mountains of Colorado. (He just reminded me of this yesterday as we were having a couple of beers in the shadow of some serious towers.) So, a I took him on a bike ride down the coast of Chicago, pointed at the skyscrapers and said, "See those buildings? Those are our mountains!"

And like a good, young mountain range, the view changes. Mountains shift. Buildings rise. Yesterday, this same good friend, who everyone knows as FresH2O (because that's his name), suggested we wander around the canyons of the city. And here are some old and new sites:

The Sears Tower--our old, world's tallest building--with a new addition: Cubes of glass that stretch out from the building. You can stand on glass 103 stories above the street. It cost $15 to get to the top, so we figured that money could be better spent on beer later.

(Click to enlarge, and maybe you can see the cubes at the top.)

Water taxis are relatively new. At least I've never been on one. This one has the name of an instant noodle dish in India:

Old church (Holy Name) with new signage:

A new sculpture of an old painting (notice the luggage stickers):

I took this very same picture 20 or so years ago. Back then there were no trees:

Looking down at that Water Tower:

From 96 floors up in the Signature Room, we see an old Chicago institution, the Playboy Building:

And the coast of Chicago (way down below on Oak Street Beach, there are new, fake palm trees planted):

A reader reading:

A new way to get fat:

A true juxtaposition of the old and new: the world's first skyscraper, the Wrigley Building, and one of the newest, the Trump Tower:

One view from the Trump Terrace, almost eye to eye with those old buildings:

Another view, this time of one of the seven engineering marvels of the United States, the reversed Chicago River:

A taxi reminding me where I'm returning next week:

Good folks and roots

2009-07-13T10:53:00.010+05:30

It's summer in Chicago, so no one should be bored. And if you are, you obviously didn't go to the Old Town School of Music Chicago Folk & Roots Festival ...

This is usually one of the greatest festivals of the year. And this weekend didn't disappoint.

There were puppeteers and magicians ...

Balloons flying away...

and kids flying high ...

Singers high kicking ...

Musicians from India ...

And hippies doing yoga in the fading light ...

Strange how I had to come to Chicago to hear some interesting modern Indian music ...

Sox Side

2009-07-11T02:23:00.003+05:30

One thing I tell my Indian students is that, if they love cricket (and pretty much they do), they'll like baseball. The games are not all that different, with the main exception being the scoring: cricket's focus is on offense, with teams averaging 140 runs in the shortened 20-20 format, while baseball is focused on pitching and defense, with teams usually combining for less than 10 runs.

What else sets the sports apart?

The drinking (not sure if there's alcohol at cricket matches, but I'm assuming it's a no):

Gloves on the fielders (similar hard ball but bare hands in cricket):

No scantily dressed cheerleaders in baseball. But there are hotties running around throwing t-shirts:

Both sports have history. Cricket is rooted in British colonialism. Baseball I guess is the result of trying to be different from Britain. And speaking of history, yesterday was the 30-year anniversary of Disco Demolition at Comiskey. Here, Mr. Molitor tries to relive that history with a couple of girls who weren't even born when it happened:

And after the game, more drinking.

Mad Town weekend

2009-07-05T18:03:00.001+05:30

Feeling free, celebrating independence, chilling in Madison.

Sunrise.

Backside.

Directionless.

Houseboat.

Drunken sailors.

Patience.

Canadian navy.

Dreamers.

Superdome.

Sparks.

Intersection

2009-07-02T18:27:00.002+05:30

Pic-a-Day 11: Western Elstons

It's an intersection in Chicago, two streets meeting in a nowhere neighborhood. It's also a band, which intersects country and rockabilly, two genres I appreciate more the older I get. Last night was the first Wednesday of the month, so I found myself at Simon's for some good tunes, good beer, good grilled hot dogs, and good conversation with some good friends. Just the thing to flush out the mindless Bollywood pop tunes I was subjected to over the past 11 months.