Monsoon Musings from Mussoorie

Monsoon Musings

Apparently I had a blog once, but then we had a baby! It's fair to say that since Charlie has been on the scene, I've not been that prolific! Still, as he is currently in his English residence, and I have returned to Hindustan, I once again have the time to write a new blog post! Here is a photo of him and his Mum swimming in the pool on holiday.

Looking pool: The boy and Kirsten: ED BEAVAN

Right now we are in the midst of the monsoon. As I write I can just make out the outline of a tree about ten metres away - it is very misty and quite bleak. Usually from our house we can see out over a valley to the other side of Mussoorie, but not during monsoon. Instead, the eerie mist hangs all around. Occasionally, the mist clears and there are short bright spells. But for most of the time we are living in the clouds, which means things get very damp, and you often arrive at school soaking wet because of the rain. For most of this time I wear an anorak and waterproof trousers as I go around, while an umbrella is essential. Although this isn't the most sartorially stylish of attires, I'd rather be a geek and stay dry! Scorpions and leeches are also unwelcome visitors in the house! On the plus side, the vegetation is lush and green during monsoon, with some beautiful flowers out.

Below are some great photos of the monsoon by Martin Cadee, who is currently visiting Woodstock.

A misty Mussoorie monsoon scene: MARTIN CADEE

Looking down from Woodstock towards St George's College: MARTIN CADEE

Woodstock School main gate shrouded in mist: MARTIN CADEE

Amrika! (This is how some Indians say America)

We had a great time visiting Kirsten's brother and family in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in the US of A, over the summer. It's the first time I'd been to the middle of America having visited both New York and California previously. Minneapolis is a very cool city with a laid back vibe, while we also spent a great week having a family reunion with Kirsten's parents and other brother, two aunts and uncle, up at a cabin by a lake in a place called Blackduck.

Here in no particular order are one Englishman's observations on this trip:

1) America is big. There is so much space. Every shop or restaurant has a car park, which in England would have been developed into housing.
2) This is because everyone drives everywhere. You really do need a car to do most things in the US.
3) That said, the public transportation system in the Twin Cities which includes the light rail is very good, as well as the numerous bike paths. Bus drivers were also very generous to me and kept giving me free tickets when they heard I was from "out of country" (and also because I kept messing up the touchcard payment system!).
4) A baseball game is like theatre! There is always something going on up on the big screen, as well as the game itself. The vendors walk up and down the aisle selling snacks. Opposing fans sit together (couldn't happen at a football - soccer - match in the UK - there would be a riot!).
5) A walk off homer - when you win with a home run on the last ball of the game. This happened at the game I was at, Twins beat St Louis Cardinals 2-1. Much celebration ensued.
6) Singing the national anthem before the game was quite an unusual thing for me.
7) The Mall of America in the Twin Cities is quite large. It's a shopping mall with a rollercoaster in the middle!
8) Food is delicious in the US and the portions are quite big, which was good as I needed fattening up!
9) Football (I mean soccer) is on the up! More than 10,000 people were at the Minnesota United match we went to. The women just won the FIFA Women's World Cup!
10) Minnesota has a lot of lakes, around 10,000 to be precise. Lake Blackduck was beautiful, and the skies were huge.
11) Americans do not say swell! Despite this, I had a swell time there!!
12) Americans sometimes seem a bit curt. This is not rudeness. Sure. Yeah. OK. You know what I'm saying Abe and Jeremiah!

At the HUGE Minnesota Twins baseball stadium with my bro-in-law Mark: MARK BRADBY

Family reunion in the cabin at Blackduck: MARK BRADBY

Big sky at lake Blackduck: ED BEAVAN

Thanks to the Class of 2018!

I completed my first full year of teaching last academic year at Woodstock, which was another reason I did not blog very much! Although it was a challenging year, I had a great time teaching four sections of Grade 9 history and one class of Global Perspectives. I would like to thank all of my students for making it such a great year, I will miss you all. Roll on 2015/16...

Seeing More of Incredible India: Goa, Hampi and Mumbai

Let the Train Take the Strain

We have just got back from our winter break, and were lucky enough to be able to visit Goa, Hampi and Mumbai (formerly Bombay). Because of Kirsten's condition (she is heavy with child), we were unable to fly, so we let the train take the strain.

As I have mentioned before, the Indian railway system is highly impressive, transporting 25 million passengers a day in 2012, which equates to 9 billion people a year! It covers the whole of India and has 7,500 stations and 40,000 miles of track. It is apparently the ninth biggest employer in the world with 1.4 million employees just behind the People's Liberation Army in China and McDonalds. Unfortunately its safety record is not brilliant, and there were two fatal fires on trains in recent weeks, but by and large it works very efficiently. It's also a great way to see India.

Being a train geek, I was delighted to have to spend two days travelling down to Goa. Our second train from Delhi to Goa, the Radjhani Express, took 26 hours, and in total the distance of our journey there was the equivalent of transversing the length of England and Scotland twice! The ultimate destination of this train was Trivandrum, which takes about two days and two nights!

The trains are comfortable in the air conditioned second class carriages which we travelled. However, the majority of people travel third class, and hundreds of people cram into carriages for these long journeys (these days sitting on the roof is banned). I don't think I'd last two minutes in there!

I also went on the suburban rail system in Mumbai which is very efficient and well-used, see photos below.

On the suburban service in Mumbai         TAMARA PHILIP

The Rajdhani Express which took us to Goa

Goa

We spent a couple of weeks in Goa which I suppose you could say is India's Costa del Sol, but thankfully not full of English tourists getting drunk on stag weekends. It is very popular with Russians now, with many signs in bars and restaurants in Russian, and some local waiters even speaking the lingo!

It's India's smallest state and very chilled out, and its beaches are lovely. It still retains its Portuguese influence, as Goa was a Portuguese province for about 450 years until it was annexed by India in 1961. You can see clues of this former history with Indian-Portuguese names such as Dr Varun Carvalho (sign spotted in the town of Margao), and the design of the houses which have a definite Iberian feel. The historic churches in Old Goa also highlight the Roman Catholicism inherited from the European invaders.

Another great thing about Goa is the food! The fresh fish is delicious, and we enjoyed browsing around the fish markets in Margao for freshly caught delicacies for our supper!

A Portuguese-influenced villa in Goa

Hampi

After Goa we spent a couple of days in Hampi, a ten hour bus ride from Goa in the neighbouring state of Karnataka (relatively close in Indian terms!). Hampi is one of the most extraordinary places I've ever visited in India, and reminded me of Pompeii set among boulders.

Formerly called Vijayanagar, it is the ruins of a kingdom from the 14th century, with many temples, elephant stables and a plethora of other amazing buildings remaining, some in very good condition. What makes it more remarkable is the natural geographical setting among incredible boulders. It almost seems like you're on a different planet at times.

The scale of the remains is impressive, there were large areas of the site we did not get to see. A river also runs through the ruins, and one morning we were able to cycle up to a beautiful waterhole for a refreshing dip from the scorching sun.

I would say Hampi is a must-visit for anyone going to southern India.

A ruined temple at Hampi with ornate carvings on pillars

On the moon: Boulders at Hampi

Having a dip in a waterhole at Hampi

The Hampi crew: L-R: Jonny, Abner, Ed, Tim and Christina

More beautiful carvings on a wall

The Elephant Stables at Hampi

Another ruin from above

Mumbai (Bombay)

Finally we wound up in Mumbai, India's financial and cultural capital. The city has a real European feel, and many of the old buildings in south Mumbai are impressive, particularly the fantastic colonial era Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (formerly Victoria Terminus) railway station, one of my favourite buildings in India, a UNESCO world heritage site. And yes there are Routemaster type red buses in Mumbai (see photo below)!

Just like London: Red bus at Chhatrapatai Shivaji Terminus

Like everywhere in India the sharp divide between rich and poor is clear to see. When you visit the Gateway of India, next to the sumptuous Taj Mahal hotel (scene of the awful terrorist attack in 2008), you are approached by street children begging. And as you drive to some of the more swanky parts of the city, you pass by many slum areas (blockbuster film Slumdog Millionaire was set here).

I went out to see the Elephanta Caves situated on an island just off Mumbai, which contain statues of Hindu gods in caves hewn out from the rock, dating from the 7th century. The day I went was a cold one by Mumbai standards (the newspaper said they were "shivering in temperatures of just 13 degrees"). It was a foggy day with a bit of drizzle, but I still boarded the boat to the island hopeful we would make it within the hour we were told it would take.

About half an hour in and limited visiblity, it turned out the boat driver (skipper?) was lost and had been going round in circles. Unfortunately he did not have a GPS, radio, or any other sort of navigational aid to help him find our destination. Thankfully a group of Danish tourists on our boat had GPS on their phone, and were able to point him in the right direction, and we finally arrived about 40 minutes late. Not sure that boat operator would pass health and safety regulations in the UK, but chalta hai, this is India!

India Gateway in the rain

The GPS-less boat to Elephanta Island

Statue at Elephanta Island

Time to Get Back in the Kitchen!

We were forced to partake in an activity that has become completely alien to us in the last couple of years - cooking! It's fair to say that baking, roasting and frying have become somewhat foreign concepts for us - largely because we have a cook!

Some of you may at this point be falling out of your chair thinking we are a couple of neo-colonialists harping back to the time of the Raj. However, having an ayah (maid) or cook is actually very common in India. It's win-win situation for employer and employee. We provide work for Vimla our outstanding and hardworking ayah, and in return she is able to supplement her family's income and pay for her grandchildren's schooling. I sometimes think if we had a similar system in the UK there would be fewer people on the dole.

So it was something of a blow when Vimla announced last month she was going to Delhi for a week for a wedding. Shamefully, we resorted to takeaway most of that week, highlighting how much we rely on Vimla. We really need to start doing some cooking again, otherwise we're in for a shock to the system when we leave India!

Christmas video

We made this video for our family for Christmas, and it gives a snapshot of our life here in Mussoorie. You can watch it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZIY9Q8we20&feature=youtu.be

India: Going Back in Time

Going Back in Time

My Swatch watch recently stopped. Yes, I know I'm probably a bit too old to have a Swatch, but I got attached to them during my teenage years and have had them ever since. Anyway, I was a bit gutted when it stopped the other day.

But the great thing about living in India is that everything is repaired or recycled. Not like in the West, where we just throw out a toaster or TV when it's broken and buy a new one. Here repair men still do a thriving trade, and most things are repaired or recycled, often in ingenious ways.

So I confidently took my Swatch to the watch repair man in the bazaar (see photos below). For some reason he sits in a little perspex box in a TV repair shop. Anyway, after about 20 minutes he returned my repaired watch for the princely sum of just 100 rupees (about one pound). I was delighted, my pride and joy had been restored!

Unfortunately my joy was shortlived. The next day strange things started to happen. My watch started going backwards, with the second hand going anti-clockwise. Then bizzarely, the actual watch face started to rotate backwards, with the numbers completely out of place. My watch was literally going back in time.

Sadly, this was the end of the road for this Swatch, and I ventured back to the bazaar and bought a flashy (fake) Emporio Armani watch, which will no doubt break soon.

But the moral of the story remains: re-use and recycle if you can.

The watch repair man destroying my Swatch

"I'm a living in a box": Watch repair guy's base

The box and the road at Landour bazaar

Here Comes the Sun (Nahi)

October is supposed to a gloriously beautiful month here in Mussoorie, with constant sunshine and views of the snow-capped Himalayan peaks. Visitors and alumni of the school flock back at this time to enjoy the Indian alpine experience.

Except this year it has just not happened. Monsoon went on interminably, from the 1 June to about last week. Then we had a few nice sunny days, and now the really cold weather has come in.

We have gone from Monsoon to Winter, without the sunny bit in between! It kinda sucks, as my American colleagues would say. Maybe it's a one-off, maybe it's down to changing climate conditions which have seen strange weather patterns everywhere.

The one positive is that we are getting a new, super-duper bukari (wood stove) soon, so that should keep us warm in this particularly cold Winter. It's due to arrive in the next six to seven days (not 67 days as I first understood!), so I'll blog about that next time.

A local man shelling beans by treading on them

Going Back in Time 2: A Week in a Himalayan Village

It was recently Activity Week at Woodstock, when the whole school has a week off classes and goes out into various parts of India for an outdoor education experience.

This year I accompanied a group of 15 Grade 9 (14/15-year-olds) students to a village in the Aglar River Valley, about a three hour drive from here.

Before we went, there were the expected moans from kids asking how they would survive away from the internet, computer games and TV for seven whole days. I, on the other hand, was rather looking forward to it.

Corn drying by a house

Our village was called Gaird, and staying there was a wonderful experience. Away from the distractions and obsession with modern technology, we taught at the local schools, helped the villagers harvest and shell their beans and chillies, tried our hand at ploughing with oxen, hiked in the surrounding hills and frolicked in the Aglar River for a day.

We were reminded how we take our food for granted and appreciated how hard some people have to work to get food on the table. Many of the villagers lost land in the recent severe rains in Uttarakhand.

We built up friendships with the villagers, were given the tastiest Indian khanna every day, and learnt to just enjoy having time to "be", not rushing around checking our mobile phones every two minutes.

Gaird village from above

We were the centre of attention for the village kids, and we also enjoyed demonstrations of local Garhwali dancing from the children, games of tug of war, arm wrestling and kabbadi with the guys.

By the end of it, even the kids agreed it was great to "go back in time" in a sense and experience a more simple way of life, where people who have much less materially yet seem in many ways a lot more content than those of us who are comparatively richer.

By the end of the week, we had all gone for seven days without the internet and a mobile phone, and guess what, the world didn't end!

Below are some photos of the week:

From generation to generation: Grandfather and grandson

On the pull: Tug of war

Just bought a yoke of oxen, trying them out!

View from above: local kids look down on the Woodstock kids

Buffalo Stance: Water bovine

Traditional Garhwali house with wooden arches

Our Woodstock group

Monsoon Musings from Mussoorie

We've been back in Mussoorie for about a month now, living through the Monsoon season when it rains pretty much incessantly for about three months. It's dark, damp and dingy inside for most of the time, although when the mist clears it reveals some magnificent crisp views of the surrounding mountains. The trees and hills are a verdant green and there are ferns and flowers everywhere.

Although it's not that easy living here during Monsoon, we really have nothing to complain about compared to so many people in this region. You may have seen on the news how bad the Monsoon was here in June, when heavy rain caused flooding which killed thousands of people in places very close to Mussoorie. More than 5,000 people are estimated to have lost their lives, with some pilgrimage areas such as Kedarnath badly affected.

The school is responding by getting involved in long term aid projects in some of the nearby villages which were affected. We are also contributing to a fund to buy emergency bags of basic provisions for those affected. E mail me if  you would like to know how to donate to this fund.

Silver linings: The view from our window when the Monsoon mist clears PHOTO: KIRSTEN BEAVAN

Parlez-vous francais? Tu veux etre professeur?

For the first three weeks of term I have been spending most of my time in the classroom teaching French. The new French teacher at Woodstock had problems getting her visa, so I was drafted in at the eleventh hour to cover her lessons.

It's been a great experience and has made me have a new-found respect for teachers. This won't be news to those of you who are teachers, but teaching is HARD WORK! It takes a lot of preparation, patience, strength of character, and the classes themselves are draining, as you need to be up front and on your game. Kids will pick up on any inconsistencies, and at times try and take a mile if you give them an inch. One negative incident can derail a whole lesson, and when it goes badly it can be pretty demoralising, but when it goes well it's very satisfying!

Nothing new to all of you who are teachers, but an insight for me. Perhaps something for the future?

Fog blog: Away day blues

Back in the UK it's around about this time I'm dusting down my road atlas or booking trains for away day trips to Morecambe or Mansfield, or some such similar beautiful English towns, as I follow the mighty Southend United Football Club.

It's fair to say that following Southend United is one of the things I miss most (after family) about being away from the UK. The closest I got to a game when we were back in the summer was visiting the ground (see pic below).

Visiting the home of football: Chessy and Ed at Roots Hall PHOTO: SELF TAKE

So it was with great anticipation that I set off a few Saturdays ago to watch the first away match of the season, following the Woodstock senior boys team in the renowned Jackie tournament (no I'm not sure who Jackie is either), at the nearby St George's College.

This was different from an English league football match in just about every way. To start with, my method of transport to the trip was by scooter, and I weaved my way down through the steep roads of Mussoorie to the venue, avoiding cows, goats and the plethora of people always walking on the roads in India.

When I arrived it was not a surprise to hear the match was not kicking off at the scheduled time. This is India and things often run late. Koi baht nehi (no worries), it meant I could go and look round the school for a while.

The stony pitch at St George's ED BEAVAN

When we did get going about an hour later the most obvious difference was the pitch. Football is a game which should be played on grass. The pitch at St George's is gravel. Actually, that's an insult to gravel. The surface was in fact small stones, with huge puddles along the sidelines. Even Barcelona would struggle to play football on this surface, and although our boys tried, a passing game was never going to reap dividends here.

The other factor at play here was fog. I've been to games with fog back home, but this was swirling Monsoon mist, at times so thick you could not see the far goal from the halfway line. The picture below shows our coach Tim desperately trying to locate the players.

Our boys did well, but they were up against the St George's alumni team, so it was literally men against boys. We lost 2-0, although we didn't see the second goal because of the mist.

One of the most extraordinary sights of the day was the end of the preceding match to ours, when the coach of a boys team forced his players to do roly polys across the gravel pitch, because they had lost their game. In any other country this would be seen as a mild form of child abuse, here, it was shrugged off with the odd puzzled stare but nothing more.

So, like so many away trips with the Shrimpers, it was defeat and little to cheer about. But on the plus side it was only a half hour scooter trip home, and later on I managed to locate Accrington Stanley v Portsmouth on TV, which was a cracking game.

Spot the ball...players...anything? Coach Tim struggles to see ED BEAVAN

Anyone for Pembs?

We spent ten days of our summer holiday in Pembrokeshire, an area of South Wales which is without doubt one of the most beautiful parts of the UK.

We were truly blessed with the weather and enjoyed a heatwave as we basked in the sun on beautiful beaches and walked along the rugged coastline with its towering cliffs.

The holiday also coincided with an unprecedented summer of British sporting success, with Andy Murray winning Wimbledon, the British and Irish Lions winning the rugby series down under, and the first test being clinched in dramatic fashion.

I would strongly recommend a trip to this part of the world if you ever get the chance (although I can't guarantee it will improve the sporting success of your nation!).

The stunning coastline in Pembrokeshire ED BEAVAN

Flagging up political tensions in Mussoorie

Last Thursday were the celebrations for Indian independence day, with flagraising ceremonies at Woodstock and across the country. Unfortunately, Mussoorie hit the headlines for the wrong reasons on this day, as the leaders of the two main parties, the BJP and Congress, squabbled like children over who should raise the flag. Watch all the gory details on the video below. As the article says, it would have been comic if it wasn't so sad and immature.

http://www.ndtv.com/article/cities/congress-bjp-netas-fight-over-hoisting-the-tricolour-in-mussoorie-406343

Absolutely bilkul: A year in India: Mussoorie, Modernisation and Movember

Absolutely bilkul: A year in India

Howdidy Doodily folks! Apologies for the radio silence on this blog for a while, it was a crazy last few weeks of semester, but now school is out things have calmed down a lot.

It’s lovely being up here just chilling in the run up to Christmas, enjoying the mountain environment and spending quality time with Kirsten. We were even able to sit out and sunbathe whilst reading this afternoon. It’s boiling hot in the winter sun, but when the sun goes in it’s freezing. We’ve also been enjoying the stunning sunsets from our house…the photo here does not really do it justice but hopefully gives you a flavour.

The view from our sofa at sunset, they have been stunning recently. PHOTO: KIRSTEN BEAVAN

So, unbelievably, we’ve almost completed our first year of marriage and of living in India together. It has flown by but as I said in the title, it’s been absolutely bilkul. For those of you without knowledge of Hindi, I should say bilkul means absolutely. Why then, you might ask, am I using this tautology: absolutely absolutely?

It all stems back to a funny story when I was in Delhi. I had learnt the Hindi expression, bilkul pagal, which means absolutely crazy, and tried to level it at a taxi driver who had sped me across Delhi like a madman before demanding an extra 200 rupees from the price agreed. Attempting to express my dissatisfaction during our altercation, I told him I thought he was absolutely bilkul. Needless to say my wife and Hindi speaking family members found this mistake hysterical, and now the expression has become common parlance in our household.

Mussoorie

I realise I have not written much about the town where we live and where Woodstock is located. Mussoorie is 175 miles north of Delhi in the foothills of the Himalaya, in the state of Uttarakhand (literally mountain region). It is about 7,000 feet up and nicknamed “Queen of the Hills”, and is a hill station where people come up to escape the heat of the plains. During the days of the Raj British soldiers came to convalesce. Local author and Woodstock alumnus Steve Alter has written an excellent piece about Mussoorie and its link with literature.

It is a six hour train journey from Delhi to Dehradun, and then an hour’s taxi ride up a hairpin mountain road (if you’ve not had car sickness before, you will here!).

It has changed a lot in the 20 years since Kirsten was here growing up, and she often points out new concrete developments which sadden her deeply. I guess that is a sign of India modernising (see more below), and inevitable in some ways.

Mussoorie from below PHOTO: CHESSY BEAVAN

It has numerous hotels and guest houses, and at weekends, particularly in holiday periods, it is flooded with tourists. It is a gateway to some great walking in the Himalayan foothills, although I’m not convinced local tourists ever get beyond the central attractions of the ferris wheel, horse rides and aquarium (containing Mussoorie’s only escalator)!

It still has a number of historic buildings such as St Paul’s Church and Christ Church, the Old Library, a wooden skating rink (the largest in India apparently), and a cemetery. We hope these will be preserved for the future.

It also has a cinema called Picture Palace which is now some sort of hideous 3D tourist attraction, and I'm told, a Clock Tower, although sadly I've never seen it as it was taken down some years ago because it was cracked, and has still not reappeared. I wait in hope...

Anyway, you should really come to see Mussoorie for yourself. As a taster, a Woodstock parent and fellow Brit David Berger has put up some great photos of the bazaar on his blog, so please take a look his photos, which really capture the everyday feel of the town brilliantly.

Mussoorie's ancient cemetery entrance PHOTO: KIRSTEN BEAVAN

There is also a great video about the school, the Himalayas and the recent mountain festival, which included the first Mussoorie half marathon which I took part in, available to watch here.

Modernisation

As I have alluded to above, we see signs of India rapidly modernising all around us: building work, everyone with mobile phones, shops selling domestic appliances, and huge numbers of cars on the road. This is all a far cry from 20 years ago when there was much less traffic and fewer technological advances.

In some ways it’s great that people are prospering and able to move up the social scale into a burgeoning middle class out of poverty, and this is a good thing.

However, one can’t help thinking this modernisation comes at a cost. We sometimes see adverts of TV where the whole western lifestyle is being sold as the best way forward. Although there are benefits to modern technology, it seems India is teetering on the brink of verging away from its roots founded in the family and spirituality.

If India were to abandon these foundations and go the same way as the west in chasing the material dream, this would be a tragedy. The results of this in the west have caused much unhappiness and loneliness as we have moved away from family and God and embraced a secular society. But part of me sees the juggernaut of materialism as unstoppable, not just here but everywhere across the world. Only time will tell how things will pan out.

Movember

In November we took part in the Movember moustache and beard-growing charity event, to raise money for a local children’s hospital to buy a number of wheelchairs. The event was embraced by the community and we ended up raising a huge 150,000 rupees, a phenomenal amount. There was a competition for the best moustache, and my effort ended up a half shaved, half moustachioed head, which sadly did not win! After shaving it off, I realised a number one shave was not the best haircut for winter, so I am living in my Tibetan woolly hat during these cold months.

Left, crazy sideburns for Movember; right, a shorn Ed cutting firewood by the bukari PHOTO: KIRSTEN BEAVAN

Merry Christmas

It just remains for us to wish you a very Merry Christmas wherever you are reading this. We hope you have a relaxing time and remember afresh the great news of Jesus’ birth this Christmas time. With all good wishes from Mussoorie, Ed and Kirsten.

PS My parents-in-law kindly subscribed us to the Guardian Weekly, which is an excellent read and keeps us in touch with world and UK affairs. I had a letter published in it recently, which you can read here.

PPS Wonderful to see England wrap up a test series win in the cricket recently. Sadly my schedule and long distances precluded me from attending any of the games, but I followed it closely on TV and was delighted we won a series for the first time in India in 28 years. Jai England! (Sorry Kathy H!).

Our official Christmas photo with Kirsten's Mum and Aunt PHOTO: SELF TIMER!

Landslides and the Monsoon

Workers inspect the damage after the landslide outside our house

Slip land-sliding away!

So we arrived back in Mussoorie a week ago (gosh I'm becoming Americanised by Woodstock starting sentences with so!). It is Monsoon season for the next couple of months, which effectively means we are living in a cloud, and it rains incessantly. Apparently though this is a very light Monsoon compared to previous years, and we have had some clear periods and even some sun. But it is still very damp, difficult to dry clothes, and miserable for sun worshippers (such as my wife). It also means there are more spiders, scorpions and leeches sharing our humble abode.

Talking of our house, the other night at about 5am we were awoken by a huge rumbling which seemed very close to our home. We thought it was strange but were too tired to go and investigate, so turned over and went back to sleep. The next morning we got up and found a group of men in our garden area (I use the term garden loosely). I groaned and went outside to complain, fearing more disturbances from builders who had plagued our lives last semester. I was politely requested to look at a large landslide which had occured, stopping just metres from our house. That shut me up pretty sharpish!

Last term a huge amount of earth was dumped in our garden to fill a hole, this was then saturated with the Monsoon rain. This earth was pushing against a holding wall which could not take the weight...hence the landslide. The good news is that noone was hurt, and our house has strong foundations and should be fine (famous last words). But as the photo below shows, it was a bit close for comfort!

The view from our window!

Not pret-a-porter

You know you are back in India when red-uniformed porters try and carry your luggage at railway stations. These guys have an irritating tendency to board a train just as it arrives at your destination thereby precluding all passengers from alighting. They then try and grab your suitcase and carry it for a fee. Getting on or off a train is already tricky as often the whole extended family of Indian passengers board a train to say goodbye, clogging up the corridor, even though they are not travelling. These porters do offer a useful service but will often try and charge foreigners an inflated fee. On this occasion I gave them a firm "nehi donyevard" ("no thanks") as we did not require their services, although my conscience was piqued when one of them opined: "If you people do not use us how will we survive?"

Indian bookworm

I am enjoying reading Indian novels and books on the country while being here. Anything by William Dalrymple is great, currently I am reading Kirsten The Age of Kali which is very informative. We were interested to read that the city of Lucknow used to be one of the cultural centres of India, but sadly has been in decline over the last 50 years. Some of the religious violence which has taken place in recent years is also shocking to read about.

I enjoyed White Tiger by Aravind Adiga and I'm loving A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. Set in 1970s Mumbai during the Emergency period, when the Government ruled by decree, it paints an illuminating portrait of India as the four characters from different backgrounds struggle to survive in a modernising India. The book captures the ghastly injustice and violence of the caste system, the grim reality of life in a slum, and the values and priorities of Indian families. It is still remarkably pertinent to Indian life today, and I would heartily recommend it.

I also read One Hundred Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseni, the follow up to the Kite Runner, but that is set in Afghanistan. It's a great, but somewhat depressing, read.

Power problems

Some of you have asked if we have been affected by the recent power cuts affecting most of northern India. Fortunately Woodstock has generators so we have not been had any blackouts, but the nearby town of Mussoorie has been. My brother-in-law pointed out that while many well-off Delhi dwellers were complaining their air conditioning was not working, hundreds of millions of Indians still do not have access to electricity. Makes you realise how lucky we are.

Highway On My Plate

Last term as part of my job I helped facilitate* the visit of a film crew from popular Indian food show Highway On My Plate to the school. You can watch the 20-minute programme online, it gives a great snapshot of Woodstock life and the beautiful campus, and if you watch carefully, you may spot me lurking in the background!

*I use this term ironically. Obviously in my job I also stovepipe out our key messages to our relevant stakeholders etc etc...

Random observations from India

My first semester at Woodstock School in India is almost over. Here, in no particular order, are some observations on life in India.

Incessant car horns

As I write this every minute or so the peaceful mountain air is punctuated by the sound of a car hooting. This is because hooting is an inherent and normal part of driving in India, as normal as indicating or checking one's rear view mirror (although incidentally those driving disciplines don't get much of a look in here). Drivers basically use the horn as a warning to other drivers as they approach a bend: why bother slowing down when you can just "blow horn", words which emblazon many a truck. I'm always amazed there aren't more accidents on bends as one sees two cars or the numerous scooters approaching one another at breakneck speed, but somehow it seems to work out, and I've yet to see a crash.

Blow horn: Oh OK if you insist. A typical message on an Indian lorry.

Lack of personal space

Personal space as a concept doesn't seem to exist in India. This can be difficult for the westerner, particularly on a train journey, when playing Bollywood movie music at full volume in a crowded carriage is positively encouraged. Or if you try and sit on your own in a park people will come and sit right next to you. I guess many people here have grown up in large families in cramped homes, and personal space is not an option. I guess it highlights how cossetted some of us have become.

Hot work for coolies

Coolies are the men here who carry and transport stuff around on their backs. They deliever anything from shopping to fridges, which make them look like giant ants as they lug items much bigger than their body weight. They work extremely hard and often walk long distances with their heavy loads, which they tie round their heads to help ease the burden. What's depressing is the tip we sometimes give them for the delivery is probably larger than the sum they're paid to do this gruelling job.

Workmen watching on

It's felt like we've lived on a building site this semester as work has gone on for months in our garden. Most days we have a team of workmen turn up to shift earth from one side of the house to the other; then the next day they come back and move it back to where it was before. What I've noticed is that while one or two guys do some work, there will always be another two, three, four or five men just looking on (see photo below for example). This seems to be the case in the majority of labouring situations I've seen. Why work when you can watch on?

Workmen ratio of 2:5 of those working:sitting around

Doesn't matter if you're brown or white

There are adverts everywhere for skin whitening cream; it seems many Indians want to be whiter as lighter skin is considered more attractive. Meanwhile us white folk always want to be browner. Funny eh, and somewhat tragic none of us are happy in the skin we are in.

Cheeky monkeys

I rang my sister the other day and she was paying a fortune to take her family to Colchester Zoo. Here we don't need to pay for the wildlife, most days we see rhesus and langur monkeys on the way in to work. They are often very cheeky monkeys, trying to steal food and even swimming in the school pool. Contrary to my wife's advice, I try and stand up to the monkeys if they are being aggressive, insisting we assert the natural order of man versus beast. So far this policy seems to be working, and hopefully I won't get beaten up by a marauding monkey anytime soon.

I'm heading back to Blighty soon so this'll be my last blog for a while. All the very best, look after yourselves, and take great care. Edster