recovering addict.

one day, on a bus traveling from Haridwar to Chandigarh, a girl threw a book down on her lap and proclaimed "i'm free!"

that girl? me.
that book? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

thank you J.K. Rowling for ending my literary addiction. now if Warner Brothers could do the same...

if you didn't know - Rajhastan is a little sandy.

if you ever ride a camel, be prepared for your ass to hurt. a lot. (especially if you are the lucky one to fall off of the camel like me.)
it is an incredible experience, no doubt. you get to see a great deal of how desert life works, understand the isolation and, at times, ultimate peace of the desert - disturbed only by the bells of your camel, and my favorite part - getting to hang out with some of the coolest people from around the world you will ever meet.

we started out from Bikaner, the sixteen of us traveling twelve hours by dusty train from Chandigarh, not knowing what to expect. other than the sore ass of course. we traveled into the desert, listening to the wind, the bells on the camels, and each other. especially each other. this trip, though mostly painful, sandy, and exhausting, really showed me my favorite part of being on a traineeship - the people you meet. these people that share the frustration, the excitement, the discovery, the experience that a traineeship can offer you. you cannot imagine the bonding that occurs when you find yourselves halfway around the world - lost and trying to find your way. i know, for sure, that these people will be friends of mine for the rest of my life. already - we are planning trips to visit each other's countries, reunions in Las Vegas, and how much we will miss each other when this experience ends.

how can i define a traineeship and this experience i have had? i'm not sure, it is hard to define. it isn't about some heroic feat, some incredible change we are making in the world - it is about our lives running parallel for awhile, and getting to experience it with each other. it is not only about the stories we share while we sit around a fire in the desert, or on a train braving the winds blowing sand off the dunes, or about the changes we have found in ourselves, but also the stories we will keep forever when we leave this place and when we leave each other.
the traineeship is all about the story, the impact, and the experience. and in the years to come, i will look back on this summer in India, this summer i spent on the other side of the world, and know for sure that it will have been one of the greatest of my life, and that every person i have met has changed my life in some way.
and i think that this trip to the desert, on the back of a camel, was when i truly realized it.

Little Tibet

A weekend excursion to the Himalayas and a small village called McLeod Ganj led to some thinking. This village, the home to the Dalai Lama and the exiled Tibetan government, led to some thinking. Mostly about the meaning of home. I thought about the six weeks that have passed since I had left my home, willingly and enthusiastically setting out to impact the world. But knowing the history of Tibet, what would it be like if I could never go home? The life of a refugee is impossible to imagine or define - these people will never have a home. They may one day return to Lhasa, perhaps even claim the province as a sovereign nation, but it will never again be their home. Too much has happened, too much has changed their life for them to consider anything home.

And what about me? What if the changes that have occurred in me during the past six weeks, and there have been many, are too great? Will I be able to call Atlanta home after living and experiencing all that I have in India? Reading about other's experiences about reverse culture shock scares the hell out of me, and hearing about the changes that have occurred in others (to a negative effect) after being abroad scares me even more. Will everyone accept the new me? Will the new me even fit in my American life?
So in this beautiful, incredible, even spiritual place - all I could think about were the changes that India has carved into me. Sometimes I wish I could just shut my brain up from thinking so much, but I know that is what makes me human. I just wish I wasn't so damn vulnerable.

But McLeod Ganj is beautiful, and the people I experienced it with were incredible. A day of trekking and talking with Buddhist monks at the foot of a Himalayan waterfall, reciting mantras in the home of the Dalai Lama, and listening to him teach his disciples was followed by a night of shenanigans. We rented a house in a small village about five kilometers north of McLeod, called Dharamkot, and lived like kings for a night - drinking, dancing, and talking about everything and nothing until 3 in the morning. Followed by spooning, lots and lots of spooning. I woke to the clouds surrounding the house, the most delicious chai I have ever tasted, and a cool breeze with hints of Himalayan rain.


The trip back to Chandigarh was harder than you can imagine.

talk about Western influence...

So, on my traineeship.

I work with an NGO here in India developing the Indian education system by providing supplementary workshops in areas that we feel Indian children need more education on, most specifically to broaden their world view. (Hence the Project Worldview title.)

Currently, I am working in a really great school with two other trainees (Midori from Japan and Bijal from the US) on teaching cultural education to kids that are about 9-11. They are adorable, smart, and always excited to be there. It is really fun for me to see the impact that I have on them for the short time that I am here - and they are absolutely hilarious. For example...

We did a session where the kids, in groups, would create their own culture (complete with food, clothing, etc.) and present it in front of the class. They also had to make up a dance and a song. And then one group got up and sang "Smack that" by Akon and Eminem. I don't think I have laughed so hard in my life.

Stephen King, take notes.

The scariest moment of my life, Take one: I am sitting in a hospital bed on sheets that haven’t been changed in who knows how long, facing a wall where a cockroach is crawling and the white paint looks grayish-brown under all the dirt. I am screaming and kicking at a nurse who (with ungloved and probably unwashed hands), after dropping the syringe and needle on the disgusting, dirty floor, tries to inject some unidentified antibiotic into my side. All the while, I am burning with 105˚ fever, shaking uncontrollably, and crying from pain and fear. This is when I curse the Indian medical system and probably ended up kicking someone in the face.

The scariest moment of my life, Take two: The moments leading up to the aforementioned fearful point. I sat in my apartment, crying because I can’t control how badly I am shaking from fever. I’m not in a real bed because there are too many people in the house, so I am sleeping in the living room on something that resembles a stretcher. It’s maybe 3 or 4 in the morning, and I can’t breathe. Literally, absolutely unable to breathe. I don’t know what to do, who to call, or if I can even move. Luckily, my roommates were awakened by the sound of my crying and came to my aid. They called my boss, a cab, and took me to the hospital. It turned out I could not stand, walk, or even sit up on my own and was in danger of frying my brain with fever. It was absolutely terrifying.

Luckily, after five hours, I was allowed to leave the sketch hospital and return home. I was admitted later that night to a hospital run by the University of Massachusetts (which happened to be just down the street) for dehydration, but released after several hours. The next day I was readmitted, for good this time, or until I got better anyway. I spent two nights in the hospital, watching the fan spin when the TV didn’t work. I did however catch a Harry Potter marathon on HBO and a special about Pakistan on CNN (the only working English channels they had). I spent a lot of time on the phone with home, at points wishing to go head back to the good ol' US of A, but thankfully not giving in. If I had gone home, I would have regretted it the rest of my life, not to mention missing out on so much I have left to do here in India.

Finally released and better now – I headed home. Final verdict: a kidney infection and kidney stone. At the same time. My body plots against me again. Now, I’ve been healed, and ready for the next adventure.

J'awesome JNC.

a special thanks to AIESEC in Chandigarh for delivering a fantastic Bebot, being a good sport with silly drinking games, and making me feel like I belong. You all are terrific. AIESEC in India, incredible.