Europe
Finland
Helsinki
Art Deco Architecture
Dad
Old Hotel
MC Escher exhibit
Tall blonde people
CULTURE SHOCK.
Ferry: Helsinki, Finland- Stockholm, Sweden
Sun goes down at midnight
Big full moon on the East side while the light of the sun hangs in the horizon
Still in a daze of culture shock- didn’t want to talk to anyone, still processing India
Sweden: Stockholm
Midsummer Festival- celebrated by the Swedish as we celebrate Thanksgiving- everyone goes off to their families for a big meal, usually in the country.
Everything was closed.
We went to a touristy restored old Swedish village called Skansen
We had Swedish waffles
Watched traditional Swedish Midsummer dancing
Got to do a few traditional maypole dances! (But all was very cheesy and touristy- not really “real”)
Sweden: Kalmar
Goodbye to Dad
Met up with Hilda and Emma who I met in Australia
Had, and helped to make, Swedish meatballs (so much for the vegetarian diet I had in India)
Went out in the very small random town of Kalmar and met some of their friends
Got to hear them all sing a traditional old Swedish birthday song
Visited Kalmar Castle, a very cute and old cafe, the beach island of Oland, and ate “bodycakes”- Potato dumplings filled with pork meat. Yummy but...too filling...
Denmark: Copenhagen
Very charming little city. Teeming with tourists and liveliness. Around this time I was there, football was starting to really get exciting...
The Little Mermaid statue..? Well, it’s in China. Of course.
Germany: Munich
Spent some time with my friend Andreas that I had met in China
Visited a HUGE beergarden with a Chinese pavilion in the English Garden
Climbed a tower and visited the oldest beer garden in Munich- Hofbrauhaus in the Marionplatz area.
Road/weekend trip to Merano- the northern alps of Itlay- where Wolfgang (another friend from China) was having a birthday party weekend in a big house. Wore a Dirndle (traditional Bavarian dress) stared at the huge blue mountains, had traditional Bavarian food, watched Germany beat Argentina, and decided to stay in Munich an extra few days to watch the semi-final game where Germany would play (and unfortunately lose to) Spain.
Back in Munich, as Andreas started his fancy new job, I wandered to cafes to work on the show for Edinburgh, and when he came home from work, we went to a cool organic park fair with some live music and great food, and on Wednesday, we went to the big Olympic stadium to watch the semi final game- on a big screen. Very exciting to watch with a bunch of Germans, but disappointing when they lost.
Switzerland: Lausanne
Visiting the city in the mountains by Lake Geneve where I used to live and work was a bit strange, but really lovely.
Saw many friends that I had from EPFL, the technical university
Went to the festival at Le Cite, with more great food, lots of people, and live music. I ended up going there 3 nights in a row! It was beautiful to see how they turned this old medieval district into a very contemporary festival.
I also had the first and very random experience of attending a public hearing of someone’ s PhD dissertation- in the coding and programming department. SO random...and interesting!
Got a cold...watched the long and boring final world cup game on a big screen down by the lake, after Spain hit that final goal I crashed to prepare for a long day of travel through my cold...
Germany: Rhine River
Travelled from 7:45am until 10:30pm, on 6 trains and a lovely boat ride down the Rhine River, looking at all the castles and tiny German villages, although my cold persisted.
Luxembourg
A forted old city with charming cobblestoned streets.
The forts high on the hills housed the “Casemates”- very old complex of tunnels and caves made to hide from and fight intruders. Incredibly old and magical- just the way I like my adventures to be.
After a lot of strange culture shock and intense emotions that came in waves and phases, after leaving India and entering Europe, something about the newness and classic European charm of Luxembourg finally allowed me to feel PRESENT and connected to being in Western culture.
Belgium: Brugge
An excerpt from my journal:
14 July 2010
Wow. Bruges is entirely magical and charming. It’s like Amsterdam, only quieter. I feel like I can just sit and be. It quite reminds me of the charming villages in China, only people live here, and something about it really reminds me of home...Breukelen!
The quiet old townhouses, all stuck together, cobblestones, long windows...I’m glad that a place in Europe can remind me of home, and make me miss it. And make me look forward to the time when I can be living there and calling it home again. I think I am also so happy here because it is overcast and rainy, like Ireland, like home in the spring, the kind of weather that makes everything shine and beautiful in its sadness, like a ballad.
...Europe is magic. Europe is romantic. It is cappuccino, deep conversations, art and inspiration (that word) (almost meaningless and essential at the same time) It is the image of myself I have created of girl with messy blowing hair sitting on a ledge overlooking a crossroads canal in Brugge, as the weather tempts rain, after travelling the world, falling in love with everything and everyone, writing songs, poetry and all her loves and meanings in cursive in a book, while no one knows that she is picking her cuticles, obsessing about food and her own body image, wondering if the people she has met and loved love her back, wondering if she will meet any more, wondering, always wondering, fighting between letting the wonder just be a wonder, of answering all the wonders in one fell swoop, or one fall sweep- whatever that expression is.
England: London and Leicestershire
Oh London. London that was once the object and subject of all my dreams and aspirations. The land of rain and Shakespeare, art, history and a certain something... Where I first learned that I knew nothing about the world and that idea set me free, when I was 16, 10 years ago. Where I first started drinking coffee, discussing theatre, discovered love, or what love is when you are 16 (Miles Loomis, for those of you that knew me at that time) and became an individual. And after those 10 years, several more visits to London, college, San Francisco, spiritual and intimate awakenings, flowing in and out of theatre and music, and, well, travelled the world- now I have come to complete a circle of sorts. I am here again, with the same Emilies (Emily Klasson and Emily Culliton joined me for the last week) and the same me.
Does London/England have the same enchantment as it did 10 years ago? In some ways it does. We saw a great production of A Comedy of Errors at the Globe, wandered from cafe to cafe discussing art and relationships, we went to Leicestershire, the Midlands, north of London, to visit Emily’s cousin. We had a picnic in the rain surrounded by sheep and rolling fields. We took a biking tour of tiny villages and more rolling fields, we went punting in Cambridge and enjoyed the health wonders of fish and chips. I would say that the reasons why I loved London originally remain the same- but now I know there are other places in the world to love for different reasons- just like people, I can be in love with many countries and cities at the same time. They all have different things to offer.
And now I am living in Golders Green for the week, a racially diverse and primarily Jewish area of London that reminds me of Flatbush in Brooklyn, with my friend Olivia who I took a road trip with in the states back in 2007. This week is focused on my show in Edinburgh which is fast approaching. I am pretending that I live here, with no need to do any sightseeing as I have already seen all the sights. I will spend my time working on the show (marketing, writing, memorizing) seeing various friends and plays. Next I am off to Cornwall, Wales and Ireland, where I will meet Megan Jacoby and we will start to put together Hang Up The Moon.
My trip has only 2 months left, and it’s hard to believe how far I’ve come, and how long it’s been, and how soon I will be home.
Well I think I have written quite enough. If you have read all this, then it’s probably about time you stopped procrastinating and went and did that thing you are supposed to be doing right now
27 July 2010
29 June 2010
Anupshahr, India
Rural India is the twighlight of a sunset, a lavendar and periwinkle blanket that covers the world in a hum and a smell of an open fire and the taste of the spiced chai, the peacocks meowing and the ticking of generators, motorbikes, and cricketts, a distant wedding blasting Indian Bollywood love songs and fireworks.
I miss them. They are so sweet and beautiful. How can I write about them to share with the world, how can any words let anyone ever understand how intensely wonderful, beautiful, soft, loving and graceful they are? Or how deeply I fell in love with them all or how deeply I fell into the experience?
I will try…
Week 1
Fun drama games, meeting the teachers who are learning English in Marie-Louise’s class, understanding the way of the village life, getting my stomach used to the food, drenching myself in bug repellent every night with no apparent effect, bonding with Marie-Louise, visiting homes of teachers and students in the villages, feeling lost and frustrated with my drama class, but finally finding a way to have the kids think of their own stories around one simple “other” tableaux that finally brings a possible show into light and, attending a village wedding.
Week 2
Marie-Louise leaves. I take over her English classes, which consists of teachers. I teach them guitar, yoga, Bob Dylan, American culture, and allow them to practice English conversation with me. I bond with teachers, learn more about arranged marriages and love marriages, feel misunderstanding and possible tension with Madhu, my theatre teaching assistant, but then after a magical night with her in the village, I find her to be fascinating, lovely, grounded, centered, intelligent and extremely loyal to me and my theatre class. The kids in my class seem to be confused as to what they are doing, and start to take advantage of my playful teaching style, until Madhu returns and kicks them into gear. I have an intriguing exchange with one thoughtful male teacher, where he writes a “statement” about the meaning of peace, which ignites a conversation in our English class about the meaning of peace and how we can incorporate it into our lives and our students lives, in addition to a conversation outside of class about why, and how, men and women should be friends. Meghna arrives.
Week 3
Meghna, a very progressive urbanite, someone I was probably best friends with in a past life, who I clicked with in the first 12 seconds of knowing her, arrives to stay at the teachers colony for a week, to start a shoe design project with the girls. She helps me immensely (with everything in the world) but starting with translating for my class- she understands what I am getting at because her English is fluent as opposed to Madhu, so she can translate to the girls more accurately. She and Madhu and I, although at first unsure of how the 3- teacher at a time dynamic will work, bond and help each other out. I visit people’s homes every night this week, which completely exhausts me, but enriches the experience as I connect deeper with teachers.
My students do their two performances- one in the school, which went very well, and one in the street of a village, which does not go as well as I had hoped, although always a learning experience. We had to use microphones which distracted the girls from acting. Also, the people in the village did not understand the point of what the girls were trying to say- as Madhu says, they were expecting “cheap entertainment” (singing and dancing.) But the kids worked it out and kept going and did everything they rehearsed, which is a strength In itself.
The goodbyes were teary and full of many jeweled and Indian gifts. I think I now own 10 rings, 2 bracelets, and 3 necklaces.
Week 4
After officially finishing at the school, I returned to Delhi with Meghna, and went into city urban modern culture shock. This manifested itself in terrible nasuea and puking. (too much information?) Literally, I was sick for 48 hours. Then I was better, watched a few football games, and Marie-Louise and I returned to the village. We then joined the teachers on a tour- a teacher retreat sort of thing- to Dehra Dun, Misoori, Sehesth Dhara, and Rishikesh. During this trip, I developed more of an obsession with the blaring gender inequalities of the culture. The men on the bus could blast music, dance around, make loud noises and take up all the seats, while the women were squished together trying to sleep, making no efforts to quiet the men. For example.
In Rishikesh I met up with Meghna, said my final goodbyes and spent the night there with her as the teachers flew away on the hot buses. After dipping my toes into the Ganges with her, we zipped back to Delhi to take care of business and hang out with her friends in the city before making the transition to the final cultural leg of my trip: Europe.
Journal excerpt:
18 June, Misoori, Driving down the mountain road after I fell and Reena threw up;
I just had a beautiful moment I never want to forget. I was staring out the window with Reena, marveling at the beauty of the world. I asked her how the mountains make her feel. She said they are strong, patient, always standing. So we sang very quietly together “blowing in the wind”- the line about mountains, and took in its glory silently as the sun began its set and our bus ventured around the curves and swerves, each person on the bus in their own quiet world of contemplation or sleep. I felt very clear and a part of a beautiful moment in India. And it was beautiful because it could have been anywhere, it didnt matter in that moment where I came from or what differences we had on opinions about appropriate clothes or arranged marriages- the mountains were patient and accepted our bus.
China, Thailand, Japan- yes, these places were entirely different culturally than anything I’m used to. It was fun and interesting to explore competency in these cultures. Rural India- I had the hardest time. My morals, my iceberg (the part of culture that each person has deep beneath the surface that defines who we are)- for the first time- did not allow for me to want to gain competency with their iceberg morals. For the first time, I judged something very negatively about a culture. The gender inequality. The accepted idea that girls do not ever think for themselves. Men can get away with anything. There is no freedom of love or opinions. Here I am at a school that is trying to change that- but the teachers, the adults, they are still silenced, only to marry who their parents choose. Some teachers seem to want to change that. Some don't. I can't and wouldn’t dare change anything. I also can't take on cultural competency. Or rather, I did, but I couldn’t under principle for any more time than that. Love and opinions are far too important to me .
It’s sad and beautiful and amazing to have had the experience, all at the same time.
I miss them. They are so sweet and beautiful. How can I write about them to share with the world, how can any words let anyone ever understand how intensely wonderful, beautiful, soft, loving and graceful they are? Or how deeply I fell in love with them all or how deeply I fell into the experience?
I will try…
Week 1
Fun drama games, meeting the teachers who are learning English in Marie-Louise’s class, understanding the way of the village life, getting my stomach used to the food, drenching myself in bug repellent every night with no apparent effect, bonding with Marie-Louise, visiting homes of teachers and students in the villages, feeling lost and frustrated with my drama class, but finally finding a way to have the kids think of their own stories around one simple “other” tableaux that finally brings a possible show into light and, attending a village wedding.
Week 2
Marie-Louise leaves. I take over her English classes, which consists of teachers. I teach them guitar, yoga, Bob Dylan, American culture, and allow them to practice English conversation with me. I bond with teachers, learn more about arranged marriages and love marriages, feel misunderstanding and possible tension with Madhu, my theatre teaching assistant, but then after a magical night with her in the village, I find her to be fascinating, lovely, grounded, centered, intelligent and extremely loyal to me and my theatre class. The kids in my class seem to be confused as to what they are doing, and start to take advantage of my playful teaching style, until Madhu returns and kicks them into gear. I have an intriguing exchange with one thoughtful male teacher, where he writes a “statement” about the meaning of peace, which ignites a conversation in our English class about the meaning of peace and how we can incorporate it into our lives and our students lives, in addition to a conversation outside of class about why, and how, men and women should be friends. Meghna arrives.
Week 3
Meghna, a very progressive urbanite, someone I was probably best friends with in a past life, who I clicked with in the first 12 seconds of knowing her, arrives to stay at the teachers colony for a week, to start a shoe design project with the girls. She helps me immensely (with everything in the world) but starting with translating for my class- she understands what I am getting at because her English is fluent as opposed to Madhu, so she can translate to the girls more accurately. She and Madhu and I, although at first unsure of how the 3- teacher at a time dynamic will work, bond and help each other out. I visit people’s homes every night this week, which completely exhausts me, but enriches the experience as I connect deeper with teachers.
My students do their two performances- one in the school, which went very well, and one in the street of a village, which does not go as well as I had hoped, although always a learning experience. We had to use microphones which distracted the girls from acting. Also, the people in the village did not understand the point of what the girls were trying to say- as Madhu says, they were expecting “cheap entertainment” (singing and dancing.) But the kids worked it out and kept going and did everything they rehearsed, which is a strength In itself.
The goodbyes were teary and full of many jeweled and Indian gifts. I think I now own 10 rings, 2 bracelets, and 3 necklaces.
Week 4
After officially finishing at the school, I returned to Delhi with Meghna, and went into city urban modern culture shock. This manifested itself in terrible nasuea and puking. (too much information?) Literally, I was sick for 48 hours. Then I was better, watched a few football games, and Marie-Louise and I returned to the village. We then joined the teachers on a tour- a teacher retreat sort of thing- to Dehra Dun, Misoori, Sehesth Dhara, and Rishikesh. During this trip, I developed more of an obsession with the blaring gender inequalities of the culture. The men on the bus could blast music, dance around, make loud noises and take up all the seats, while the women were squished together trying to sleep, making no efforts to quiet the men. For example.
In Rishikesh I met up with Meghna, said my final goodbyes and spent the night there with her as the teachers flew away on the hot buses. After dipping my toes into the Ganges with her, we zipped back to Delhi to take care of business and hang out with her friends in the city before making the transition to the final cultural leg of my trip: Europe.
Journal excerpt:
18 June, Misoori, Driving down the mountain road after I fell and Reena threw up;
I just had a beautiful moment I never want to forget. I was staring out the window with Reena, marveling at the beauty of the world. I asked her how the mountains make her feel. She said they are strong, patient, always standing. So we sang very quietly together “blowing in the wind”- the line about mountains, and took in its glory silently as the sun began its set and our bus ventured around the curves and swerves, each person on the bus in their own quiet world of contemplation or sleep. I felt very clear and a part of a beautiful moment in India. And it was beautiful because it could have been anywhere, it didnt matter in that moment where I came from or what differences we had on opinions about appropriate clothes or arranged marriages- the mountains were patient and accepted our bus.
China, Thailand, Japan- yes, these places were entirely different culturally than anything I’m used to. It was fun and interesting to explore competency in these cultures. Rural India- I had the hardest time. My morals, my iceberg (the part of culture that each person has deep beneath the surface that defines who we are)- for the first time- did not allow for me to want to gain competency with their iceberg morals. For the first time, I judged something very negatively about a culture. The gender inequality. The accepted idea that girls do not ever think for themselves. Men can get away with anything. There is no freedom of love or opinions. Here I am at a school that is trying to change that- but the teachers, the adults, they are still silenced, only to marry who their parents choose. Some teachers seem to want to change that. Some don't. I can't and wouldn’t dare change anything. I also can't take on cultural competency. Or rather, I did, but I couldn’t under principle for any more time than that. Love and opinions are far too important to me .
It’s sad and beautiful and amazing to have had the experience, all at the same time.
30 May 2010
Rural India
-journal entries from the past few incredible days, they will be the most real and accurate articulations of the things i have seen, done, and thought about.
28 May
I need to get these girls to tell a story of their own words and opinions to the village. They NEED a point, and angle. I think my own point is maybe selfishly what I need to own and accept, not the girls. (in terms of my mission of cultural competency and understanding for the whole Other Side project.) We started to get somewhere with "she is dirty" and "I have no family" (this was an excercise where they added lines to a frozen picture) But what's the message? What's the point? What's the otherness that needs competency? And how can I get the girls to find that on their own without me just telling them?
Is it gender relationships? That has always been a passion of mine and something that I am thinking about a lot here. Or is it the clothes? Or maybe that the girls have been taught not to think for themselves or have their own opinions, or creative ideas. I can tie it all into my "other, different, bla bla bla.." But how and how can the girls get there? (if it is to fit into my own mission, and also be something I can understand, and something they feel strongly about?)
My head is muddled. I suddenly feel how important this is. DON'T MESS UP as Bethany (amazing Theatre Ed guru who continues to be my idol from Emerson) once drilled into our brains.. This is my chance to MAKE A DIFFERENCE with theatre just as I have always dreamt. And Aparajita's father gave me this dense but great book about the history of political street theatre in India. Using theatre as a tool for change is a common idea in India. But maybe not with my process-oriented teaching styles...
"Give kids a voice in their community when they otherwise dont have one." That was my life mission I wrote at some point my senior year. I can't be scared, All the teachers here want me to, I have to share in the village. What is it that the GIRLS want to tell their community? They've already done plays on the unfairness of the caste system and dowries and early marriage. This is more than "Peace on Earth" this is Justice. These girls are doing amazing things their village might not understand.
Who is the Other? Who needs understanding?
What is your dream? (a teacher and a student asked me that in a getting to know you session) I should ask them.
maybe this village needs to know their dreams. But maybe they already know.
Ok I will keep this in focus tomorrow and refine the Play on sunday.
---
So now I've had that epiphany and read some of Dorian Gray until my eyes got tired, took a shower in the dark, and now I'm chillin in the common room while Marie-Louise (the English teacher volunteer- the only other white person for miles) zones out and the the two helper boys, Jamal and Shiva, watch cricket. I quite like this life, and I think it will be perfect for 3 weeks, no more. I don't know how Marie-Louise can do it for a year.
SO I am battling several things right now.
1. The challange of living in rural India combined with and directly influencing my longing and desire to get to Europe already.
2. Making the most of my time here, really putting my drama ed skills to good use, using this unique opportunity to fulfill my life mission (as mentioned above) which I of course feel the pressure I am putting on myself.
3. General halfway through homesickness and travel emotions.
THe answer to all these #s is to stay in the moment.
29 May
Sitting in my room in rural India listening to Hair, a musical with a flow of messages and philosophies and harmonies that make up the core of my being, and yet if an Indian man or woman in this village were to understand the lyrics, they would be completely horrified and scandalized.
So Hang Up The Moon is clearly my own manifestation of Hair, not with the same revoluntionary style or message or impact, but with as much of my sould and Hair's soul and inspiration.
But what of the girls? Week one is almost over and what have I accomplished? (although maybe I shouldn't look at it that way.)
i have the younger girls playing and having fun, they have learned a song and a dance, they are starting to allow themselves to be creative and alag alag (different) from each other. They are allowed to laugh. They are already less inhibited, and here they are allowed to be so.
In the older group we have explored different ways of moving about space, how to make relationships (rishta) with each other based on movement, allowing to be creative individually based on speed, levels, and rhythm (percussive vs. fluid) (La ban stuff) We have the beginnings of a story from one tableaux. The very beginning.
I think this is a good place to be at the end of week one.
two nights ago I took a boat ride on the Ganges. Tonight I am atttending a wedding. I am eating Indian food every day. I am blessed to be able to spend 2 hours every day in Marie's English classes chatting with Indian teachers my age. i would say life at Pardada-Pardadi and in Anupshahr is pretty idillic.
Be-in Love Om
-----
Yes. I had an excellent class. They finally got creative! They used theur brains. They worked in groups. They came up with stories based on Other. THEY DID IT. All it took was for me to let Hair fill me up and remind me what my purpose was in life, and I can get kids to work it out.
I have the workings of a thoughtful, comprehensive piece that are the girls own stories. I feel very happy, proud, and satisfied.
30 May
Marie-Louise is leaving today and I wont see her again for 2 weeks. Now I am the only American in Anupshahr. The only white person for miles. I feel more comfortable and settled in, able to speak to people and call certain ones friends.
I want to write about this wedding last night. Oh my God. So intense. So real. Out of a movie.It was like going back in time.
So Marie-Louise anf I arrive by motorbike. Our "ride" to the wedding was on the back, straddling, a highly scandalous position for women, with a male Indian teacher driving. He felt like the coolest guy in Anupshahr, riding through town at night with 2 American girls straddling his motorbike. It felt so inappropraiate for rural India, but of course it would be fine in the states, or so many places. We only sat that way because we both felt that side saddle was unsafe and unbalanced.
Then we roll into this party, mostly women and children at this point. Instead of everyone watching the bride as they should, and she was so beautiful decked out with jewels and make up and a decadent red sari, all attention was on the two awkward American girls with no hope of blending in. All the kids are standing around us, staring, amazed at the technology of our digital cameras.
More teachers came- Soni, Preeti, and Sanjeev, and all the male teachers seemed to arrive at once- Anil, Angkor, KK, a few new ones from the Bichola campus whose names I dont remember. one is tall and one is short, and they come into the story later.
So the theme of gender roles in rural India, which ia always apparent, becomes even more apparant at weddings. It becomes an excuse to act silly, take advantage of drunkeness and the crowd, and flirt. Oh- did I mention that only applies to Men? Women dont dance around. They stand around and watch the men in their drunken revelry. In fact, they have to get out of the way, hide in the safe distance on rooftops, because the men get "so crazy" they might be tempted to grab at you. How unfair is that?
Indian men can do and dress however they want. Are they looked upon as sleezy or low? No, they are gods. So if they do something inappropriate, say at a crazy wedding, its not their fault, its her fault for tempting him with her clothes or her behavior.
Ok< I'll get on with events of the night and then get back to my gender/culture rant.
So we watch the men dance like idiots from the rooftop. I cant help but think of the few times I've attended Jewish events with Chabad or Lubavitch where the men and women are not only seperate, but it's the same idea of men participating in the celebration and womean just watching.
Soni- a revolutionary village girl- the only one at the party wearing jeans. While the men danced below in the alley, she started to dance on the rooftop. I joined in, naturally, and for a moment we were seperate, but equal. But if anyone saw us, what would they think?
Then she lead us down to the main...home/chamber/area of dirt with walls around it that belonged to Hamlata's(the bride) family. There is no rooftop in this house, no electricity- just a dirt ground with walls around it, and a few cots for sleeping and sitting.
Then followed a sweet 45 minutes or so when I chatted to some lovely women including the bride, who was just wating for the husband to come dancing down the street with the men. Then dinner.
Dinner was the only part of the evening when men and women were mixed up a bit more. Food was being grabbed, thrown, shoved into mouths. I had roti shoved into my mouth, and I dont even know who shoved it. When they finished with thier plate, they just threw it on the ground. It was all really hilarious. Then it was finally time to go home around 11:30- the safest time for us to leave, although the party was to rave on all through the night. I dont even know when the actual wedding ceremony takes place- we were only there for the several hours of waitng for the men to assert their macho-ness, and then eating.
I must say that although I feel negatively about the unequality of men and women, I had a really lovely time, and something I loved was how the women all hold on to each other, hold hands, link arms, take care of us. It's very warm and comfortable.
I rode on the back of another motorbike with the shorter of the two new guys, and Marie Louise was with the taller one. We rode through 3 other weddings in the street- weddings are almost every day, and always out in the street.
The night ended with Marie-Louise and I hanging out on her terrace while it rained (!) chatted and laughed about the intense night until about 1am.
so, do I think the western style (or just not rural) of dating, flirting, romance, parties- is better? I do, I think it's better for me, I want to have equal opportunity to dance and revel without anyone thinking Im a "bad girl". But that's because I know how fun it is to do all these things. Do these women know? they see men acting like idiots and they dont want to be a part of it. I can understand that point of view. Its what they know. And they know if they do anything, men will be inappropriate to them (although they wouldnt call it inappropriate).
I have read about this kind of life, the gender relationships in rural old fashioned places and cultures- but there is no way to describe the difference between understanding something by reading about it, or to understand something by experiencing it firsthand.
28 May
I need to get these girls to tell a story of their own words and opinions to the village. They NEED a point, and angle. I think my own point is maybe selfishly what I need to own and accept, not the girls. (in terms of my mission of cultural competency and understanding for the whole Other Side project.) We started to get somewhere with "she is dirty" and "I have no family" (this was an excercise where they added lines to a frozen picture) But what's the message? What's the point? What's the otherness that needs competency? And how can I get the girls to find that on their own without me just telling them?
Is it gender relationships? That has always been a passion of mine and something that I am thinking about a lot here. Or is it the clothes? Or maybe that the girls have been taught not to think for themselves or have their own opinions, or creative ideas. I can tie it all into my "other, different, bla bla bla.." But how and how can the girls get there? (if it is to fit into my own mission, and also be something I can understand, and something they feel strongly about?)
My head is muddled. I suddenly feel how important this is. DON'T MESS UP as Bethany (amazing Theatre Ed guru who continues to be my idol from Emerson) once drilled into our brains.. This is my chance to MAKE A DIFFERENCE with theatre just as I have always dreamt. And Aparajita's father gave me this dense but great book about the history of political street theatre in India. Using theatre as a tool for change is a common idea in India. But maybe not with my process-oriented teaching styles...
"Give kids a voice in their community when they otherwise dont have one." That was my life mission I wrote at some point my senior year. I can't be scared, All the teachers here want me to, I have to share in the village. What is it that the GIRLS want to tell their community? They've already done plays on the unfairness of the caste system and dowries and early marriage. This is more than "Peace on Earth" this is Justice. These girls are doing amazing things their village might not understand.
Who is the Other? Who needs understanding?
What is your dream? (a teacher and a student asked me that in a getting to know you session) I should ask them.
maybe this village needs to know their dreams. But maybe they already know.
Ok I will keep this in focus tomorrow and refine the Play on sunday.
---
So now I've had that epiphany and read some of Dorian Gray until my eyes got tired, took a shower in the dark, and now I'm chillin in the common room while Marie-Louise (the English teacher volunteer- the only other white person for miles) zones out and the the two helper boys, Jamal and Shiva, watch cricket. I quite like this life, and I think it will be perfect for 3 weeks, no more. I don't know how Marie-Louise can do it for a year.
SO I am battling several things right now.
1. The challange of living in rural India combined with and directly influencing my longing and desire to get to Europe already.
2. Making the most of my time here, really putting my drama ed skills to good use, using this unique opportunity to fulfill my life mission (as mentioned above) which I of course feel the pressure I am putting on myself.
3. General halfway through homesickness and travel emotions.
THe answer to all these #s is to stay in the moment.
29 May
Sitting in my room in rural India listening to Hair, a musical with a flow of messages and philosophies and harmonies that make up the core of my being, and yet if an Indian man or woman in this village were to understand the lyrics, they would be completely horrified and scandalized.
So Hang Up The Moon is clearly my own manifestation of Hair, not with the same revoluntionary style or message or impact, but with as much of my sould and Hair's soul and inspiration.
But what of the girls? Week one is almost over and what have I accomplished? (although maybe I shouldn't look at it that way.)
i have the younger girls playing and having fun, they have learned a song and a dance, they are starting to allow themselves to be creative and alag alag (different) from each other. They are allowed to laugh. They are already less inhibited, and here they are allowed to be so.
In the older group we have explored different ways of moving about space, how to make relationships (rishta) with each other based on movement, allowing to be creative individually based on speed, levels, and rhythm (percussive vs. fluid) (La ban stuff) We have the beginnings of a story from one tableaux. The very beginning.
I think this is a good place to be at the end of week one.
two nights ago I took a boat ride on the Ganges. Tonight I am atttending a wedding. I am eating Indian food every day. I am blessed to be able to spend 2 hours every day in Marie's English classes chatting with Indian teachers my age. i would say life at Pardada-Pardadi and in Anupshahr is pretty idillic.
Be-in Love Om
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Yes. I had an excellent class. They finally got creative! They used theur brains. They worked in groups. They came up with stories based on Other. THEY DID IT. All it took was for me to let Hair fill me up and remind me what my purpose was in life, and I can get kids to work it out.
I have the workings of a thoughtful, comprehensive piece that are the girls own stories. I feel very happy, proud, and satisfied.
30 May
Marie-Louise is leaving today and I wont see her again for 2 weeks. Now I am the only American in Anupshahr. The only white person for miles. I feel more comfortable and settled in, able to speak to people and call certain ones friends.
I want to write about this wedding last night. Oh my God. So intense. So real. Out of a movie.It was like going back in time.
So Marie-Louise anf I arrive by motorbike. Our "ride" to the wedding was on the back, straddling, a highly scandalous position for women, with a male Indian teacher driving. He felt like the coolest guy in Anupshahr, riding through town at night with 2 American girls straddling his motorbike. It felt so inappropraiate for rural India, but of course it would be fine in the states, or so many places. We only sat that way because we both felt that side saddle was unsafe and unbalanced.
Then we roll into this party, mostly women and children at this point. Instead of everyone watching the bride as they should, and she was so beautiful decked out with jewels and make up and a decadent red sari, all attention was on the two awkward American girls with no hope of blending in. All the kids are standing around us, staring, amazed at the technology of our digital cameras.
More teachers came- Soni, Preeti, and Sanjeev, and all the male teachers seemed to arrive at once- Anil, Angkor, KK, a few new ones from the Bichola campus whose names I dont remember. one is tall and one is short, and they come into the story later.
So the theme of gender roles in rural India, which ia always apparent, becomes even more apparant at weddings. It becomes an excuse to act silly, take advantage of drunkeness and the crowd, and flirt. Oh- did I mention that only applies to Men? Women dont dance around. They stand around and watch the men in their drunken revelry. In fact, they have to get out of the way, hide in the safe distance on rooftops, because the men get "so crazy" they might be tempted to grab at you. How unfair is that?
Indian men can do and dress however they want. Are they looked upon as sleezy or low? No, they are gods. So if they do something inappropriate, say at a crazy wedding, its not their fault, its her fault for tempting him with her clothes or her behavior.
Ok< I'll get on with events of the night and then get back to my gender/culture rant.
So we watch the men dance like idiots from the rooftop. I cant help but think of the few times I've attended Jewish events with Chabad or Lubavitch where the men and women are not only seperate, but it's the same idea of men participating in the celebration and womean just watching.
Soni- a revolutionary village girl- the only one at the party wearing jeans. While the men danced below in the alley, she started to dance on the rooftop. I joined in, naturally, and for a moment we were seperate, but equal. But if anyone saw us, what would they think?
Then she lead us down to the main...home/chamber/area of dirt with walls around it that belonged to Hamlata's(the bride) family. There is no rooftop in this house, no electricity- just a dirt ground with walls around it, and a few cots for sleeping and sitting.
Then followed a sweet 45 minutes or so when I chatted to some lovely women including the bride, who was just wating for the husband to come dancing down the street with the men. Then dinner.
Dinner was the only part of the evening when men and women were mixed up a bit more. Food was being grabbed, thrown, shoved into mouths. I had roti shoved into my mouth, and I dont even know who shoved it. When they finished with thier plate, they just threw it on the ground. It was all really hilarious. Then it was finally time to go home around 11:30- the safest time for us to leave, although the party was to rave on all through the night. I dont even know when the actual wedding ceremony takes place- we were only there for the several hours of waitng for the men to assert their macho-ness, and then eating.
I must say that although I feel negatively about the unequality of men and women, I had a really lovely time, and something I loved was how the women all hold on to each other, hold hands, link arms, take care of us. It's very warm and comfortable.
I rode on the back of another motorbike with the shorter of the two new guys, and Marie Louise was with the taller one. We rode through 3 other weddings in the street- weddings are almost every day, and always out in the street.
The night ended with Marie-Louise and I hanging out on her terrace while it rained (!) chatted and laughed about the intense night until about 1am.
so, do I think the western style (or just not rural) of dating, flirting, romance, parties- is better? I do, I think it's better for me, I want to have equal opportunity to dance and revel without anyone thinking Im a "bad girl". But that's because I know how fun it is to do all these things. Do these women know? they see men acting like idiots and they dont want to be a part of it. I can understand that point of view. Its what they know. And they know if they do anything, men will be inappropriate to them (although they wouldnt call it inappropriate).
I have read about this kind of life, the gender relationships in rural old fashioned places and cultures- but there is no way to describe the difference between understanding something by reading about it, or to understand something by experiencing it firsthand.
19 May 2010
Thailand Words
Blog entry Thailand 19 May
Spiritual
Buddha- big Buddha
Orange robed monks
Buddha in a cave
Praying
Meditating
Climbing
Swimming
Just be-ing
Bangkok- hip Korean hairstyles
SHOPPING malls finding good deals and cute outfits from an artistic standpoint with numi
Hip indie Thai band cafes bars dancing karaoke bowling dressing up and feeling hip
Language barriers, as always
Laid back and friendly, smiles smiles smiles, children, cats dogs lizards roaches ants centipedes birds monkeys elephants
Red shirts yellow shirts multicolored shirts takshin democracy violence unrest protests fear foreigner shootings military unsafe zone close down curfew…again…peace anyone?
Living apartment BTS Toys Café long art and creative talks with numi, Hang Up The Moon- new show concept.
Asia. I am in Asia. A feeling of belonging. Not feeling to far or foreign. Or feeling like being foreign is my home. Being foreign is who I am.
Noodles. Sticky rice. Som Tham. Mangoes. Meat, an entire dead fish on a plate of rice looking at me. SPICY STOMACH ACHE.
Not alone. Family. Comprimise. Planning with 7 people. We all have needs and travel ideas. We all want to save money. We don’t all want to go shopping. We don’t all want to walk there. We don’t all want to eat outside in the heat, so we can smoke. We don’t all want to go swimming. But we all want to be together, and have a good time.
Fancy marriot phuket. Mai Khao beach. Pina colada happy hour in the pool watching the sun set into the ocean. Thai dance classes. Thai language classes.
Late nights talking and laughing and joking with Numidas and Todd. Laughing so hard we cry. Singing. Jamming. Joking. Karaoke.
BIE THE STAR. Look him up on youtube.- a cheesy Thai popstar.
Spiritual
Buddha- big Buddha
Orange robed monks
Buddha in a cave
Praying
Meditating
Climbing
Swimming
Just be-ing
Bangkok- hip Korean hairstyles
SHOPPING malls finding good deals and cute outfits from an artistic standpoint with numi
Hip indie Thai band cafes bars dancing karaoke bowling dressing up and feeling hip
Language barriers, as always
Laid back and friendly, smiles smiles smiles, children, cats dogs lizards roaches ants centipedes birds monkeys elephants
Red shirts yellow shirts multicolored shirts takshin democracy violence unrest protests fear foreigner shootings military unsafe zone close down curfew…again…peace anyone?
Living apartment BTS Toys Café long art and creative talks with numi, Hang Up The Moon- new show concept.
Asia. I am in Asia. A feeling of belonging. Not feeling to far or foreign. Or feeling like being foreign is my home. Being foreign is who I am.
Noodles. Sticky rice. Som Tham. Mangoes. Meat, an entire dead fish on a plate of rice looking at me. SPICY STOMACH ACHE.
Not alone. Family. Comprimise. Planning with 7 people. We all have needs and travel ideas. We all want to save money. We don’t all want to go shopping. We don’t all want to walk there. We don’t all want to eat outside in the heat, so we can smoke. We don’t all want to go swimming. But we all want to be together, and have a good time.
Fancy marriot phuket. Mai Khao beach. Pina colada happy hour in the pool watching the sun set into the ocean. Thai dance classes. Thai language classes.
Late nights talking and laughing and joking with Numidas and Todd. Laughing so hard we cry. Singing. Jamming. Joking. Karaoke.
BIE THE STAR. Look him up on youtube.- a cheesy Thai popstar.
14 May 2010
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