My Life in the Clouds

"I've learned in my life that it's important to be able to step outside your comfort zone and be challenged with something you're not familiar or accustomed to. That challenge will allow you to see what you can do." - J R Martinez

The idea of children being at the centre of education in the UK is something, I believe, has been lost by so many people of ‘influence’.  Government policy, governing body agendas, results data and even elements of our safeguarding procedures have become higher priorities than children themselves, their education and welfare… and let’s not even start on costs!  I know I am not alone in this view, but it is incredibly frustrating to spend so much time wondering what the motivation behind so many bad decisions is.  As for OfSted's latest decision, which I should not waste my words on, well, it is just another change they have made to keep them all in a job!  Retraining to become a teacher I knew why I wanted to teach and I still know that I am passionate about being in the classroom, being with the children and helping them to discover who they are and what they can do.  It is simple for me - THAT is what education should be.   There is nothing like being part of supporting a child to make sense of things.  They do it in completely different ways, taking different routes over various lengths of time.  But, facilitating those wonderful moments when an idea takes shape, a plan becomes a reality or the answer becomes clear, is incredibly rewarding.  Forcing children in to a small set of pre-determined pigeon holes is not!  Nor is it, in my view, education.  People ask me about moving into management (something I have the skills and experience for), but the truth is that being in the classroom (be that forest, sport’s field or farm) is something I am not sure I can ever give up.  It is where everything truly happens. 

During the course of my last week in the UK, I was talking to a friend and it dawned on me that this will be my tenth year since becoming a teacher.  I began my NQT year in September 2009.  It was a bit of a revelation, not only because ‘where have the past nine years gone?’, but also because my next adventure is such a cause for celebration - taking what I have spent time learning, enhancing and developing and using it to be of use to others.  The idea of volunteering abroad has been with me for a long time.  My ex-Head reminded me, in the same week, that I had spoken about it when asked the typical question “Where do you see yourself in five years’ time?” at my interview in the summer of 2010.  Admittedly, it has taken a little longer than 5 years to get here, but I figure it is a pretty special way of celebrating my tenth year of teaching.  The areas I will be getting involved with and helping develop in India are also absolutely centred around the child: looking at the interactivity of learning (resource based) for children; considering how group and partner work can support their learning and developing the teacher’s spoken English to better support the children accurately – and that’s just to begin with.  The priorities will differ slightly within the different schools, but they have all been discussed and highlighted by the local staff themselves.   This is what education should be – not dictate from some distance galaxy (in our case Westminster), but front line staff involved in how better they can serve their children.   OK, so I hope you haven’t switched off – no more political talk I promise!  Back to the start of my tenth year of teaching…

…I arrived safely in Mumbai on Friday 14^th September, ahead of schedule, at about 06.30, after a fairly smooth flight.  This was a huge relief as it is the only flight I have ever been on where the pilot warned us, before we had even left the gate at LHR, that we would hit ‘severe turbulence’ about 3 ½ hours into the journey.  I guess you define ‘severe’ in your own way, but the thought of running off the plane there and then did cross my mind.  I got to wondering: how do airlines define the severity of turbulence?  I mean, some airlines close down all service at the hint of a bump or two, others, as soon as the captain turns on the seatbelt sign.  On Jet Airways they are not so nervy.  Although, we hit a few pockets of ‘bumpy’ turbulence on the flight, the seatbelt signs did not go on and not once did the service stop.  Perhaps the storm had died down, but whatever resulted in the non-appearance of severe turbulence, I personally would like to thank Jet Airways for that leg of my journey.  I, for one, was just exceptionally pleased to have a comfortable seat, some leg room and a t.v – oh, and a drink!  Most of you will know the name of the airline I have flown most frequently with over the last three years and, in comparison to them, my economy flight on Jet Airways was first class! 

                      

       G&T at Heathrow                       Familiar sights in Mumbai        Settled on the flight to Bagdogra

                         

(Mixed feelings about leaving Stansted bus station - relief as the journey begins, excitement, shock, nervousness and happiness)

After a few hours in Mumbai airport, I took off to Bagdogra.  The flight to Bagdogra was also uneventful.  Jet Connect, Jet Airway’s domestic airline was not very different to the main carrier.  OK, so there was no entertainment, but everything else was the same standard – food (included in price), staff and comfort, all great.  As we were preparing to land there was a huge cloud rising to new heights, clearly full of rain that it was depositing onto the land below.  The captain warned us about the possible bumpiness to come but, in fact, it was, again, relatively smooth.  However, it was fast.  Really fast!  Stopping seemed impossible.  Seriously impossible. Although, fortunately, we did!  Anyway, most importantly, I had descended on to terra firma – a place I am never happier to be. 

And…What incredible terra firma it was!  The noise, the bustle, the people… I hadn’t necessarily expected it from Bagdogra.  I don’t know why.  Mumbai, Delhi, yes, but not here.  Still, there it was.  It was really very exciting, a little bit frightening and the whole atmosphere heightened the senses in an all-encompassing way.  Unfortunately, having to focus on walking next to, on and across the road, rendered me incapable of noticing half of what was going on.  Amazing.  There was also the heat… wet heat.  I had landed in 36 degrees Celsius, but the air was damp with the recent downpour that had occurred.  Apparently, the monsoon is lasting a little longer than expected this year.  As described by a local, the 17^th September is the day the ‘deity for tools and machinery’ is celebrated.  It is usually this day that the monsoon season can be described as over, but the rain this year seems to want to continue beyond the 17^th so I am told.  I have to say I was quite excited by the prospect of a celebration being held so soon after I arrived here.

There are many deities that are celebrated and they are responsible for many different things.  The one held on 17^th celebrated raw metals and all they achieve through manipulation into things such as tools, buildings, vehicles etc.  On my way to my little village, Kashyem, on the Sunday, they were also getting ready for the celebration.  A huge stage had been erected by the side of the road with orange marigolds all around it.  It almost took over the road.

I digress – back to my arrival.  The journey from Bagdogra to Kalimpong was due to take about 4.5 hours by road.  My experiences in Mongolia prepared me well.  Fast, chaotic, (seemingly) few rule driving appeared to be the main way to travel.  Of course, India has many more moped and motorbike riders which only adds to the terror.  Getting out of Bagdogra and Siliguri was long.  Streets full of vehicles, people, dogs and, of course, cows.  It was start, stop for many miles.  Again, the similarities with Mongolia kept coming.  But, as we began to leave the urban sprawl behind us the similarities stopped.  Driving up into the foothills of the Himalayas the vegetation was bright green, hundreds of shades, all glistening with rain water.  The clouds swirled around the hills as we rose up and down.  We climbed above and then back down through them.  ‘My Life in the Clouds’ has become the new title for this first blog after arrival.  The surface of the road was a mix of smooth tarmac, potholed farm track and riverbed rock.  It was bumpy.  The road curved sharply and ran precariously next to, and hundreds of feet above, the river.  The river Teesta raged, its banks fit to burst with the fresh rainwater.  A dam, we passed, itself seemed to be struggling to hold back the huge volumes of water that tore towards it foaming and bubbling, fast and furious.  The scene reminded me of the journey out to a remote part of the Andes when in Peru in 2006.  Even a landslide from the day before here in India, partly fixed, evoked memories of the initial trip from Cusco in the search of Chocoquiero where we waited for an hour or two for the road to be ‘fixed’.  As we continued to Kalimpong we passed monkeys sitting on the crash barriers or in trees, nonchalantly watching as we passed.  A broken down vehicle and a badly parked truck resulted in queues of traffic in either direction as neither wanted to give way to the other so that all could pass on the single track of road that was left.  Colourful trucks and constant horn blowing and the monkeys didn’t bat an eyelid.  En-route, after the worst roads had been traversed, we stopped roadside for a cup of tea.  Slightly spicy, black and hot it was my first cup of tea in the middle of land made famous by tea (for us at least).  Delicious.  We set off again.  Santa (the Mondo Challenge Co-ordinator here in Kalimpong) and a taxi driver, who had picked me up, chatted in Nepali, whilst I (surprisingly) must have drifted off for 20 minutes.  It was like sleeping on a bouncy castle so I am not sure how I snoozed!  Arriving in Kalimpong, it was already dark.  Sweet smelling perfume from flowers and plants, the damp ‘after rain’ smell, the long drive up from the valley below and the closeness of the trees and vegetation made it clear that Kalimpong is built right on the side of the hills, within the forest itself.

        (Roads)                                      (River)                                         (Traffic)



   (Time for enjoy - really?)           (No room to give way)                  (River bed or road?)




       (End of Monsoon means water flowing - no axle vehicle)   (Landslide - drive carefully)



(first experience of colourful houses)    (Taxi driver and Santa)                     (Hot, black tea)

In Kalimpong that evening I met another volunteer, Ruth, who had arrived the day before.  We stayed at Holumba Haven, a popular place for tourists passing through Kalimpong and the point of arrival for almost all Mondo Challenge volunteers.  On Saturday morning, Santa took us around the town which was incredibly busy.  The colour and vibrancy of many things were an instant draw.  The seemingly basic way of life masking the difficulty with which people must have to contend and deal with every day.  For me, as in Mongolia, but much more apparent, was the amount of rubbish.  Having seen the problems with waste in larger Indian cities on the television, I was prepared for it – to a certain extent.  But it was, and will continue to be, for me, something that takes time to come to terms with.  Especially as the roads are now lined with signs about fighting pollution and rubbish bins that say ‘use me’.  I guess it takes time for us all to adjust our ways.  Hopefully, it will begin to make a difference.  That aside, many of the houses were a myriad of different colours, the general buzz electrifying and the weather warm.  People were wary, predominantly because of shyness, so I am told.  As soon as I smiled or bowed ‘Namaste’, so the greeting was reciprocated – albeit with a few giggles on occasions.  Possibly my accent, or perhaps my ridiculous beard!  Who knows? – All, I know - I was loving it. 

I find it very hard to describe the ambience of Kalimpong.  The words we might use back home to describe the infrastructure and living conditions seem rude or derogatory as if we, in some way, have found the perfect way to live.  However, as in Mongolia, the family here is central to almost everything and, furthermore, so is community, the wider family.  So, whilst elements of living here may fall below what people back home consider ‘appropriate’, other elements of life here exceed anything we might have.  Don’t get me wrong, I spent my first two days in Kalimpong terrified of eating or drinking something that would make me sick.  I studied food health and hygiene at college and so get very cautious about food, cooking temperatures, storage etc as a matter of course.  The obsession is a hard thing to ditch.  However, whilst there were things I understood I would have to watch out for whilst I am here, there were also precautions I learned I could take.   I understood that it is more than likely that I will get sick at some point, but I really wanted to ensure that, for my first few days, I was 100% and able to concentrate on taking things in and learning about my new environment.  Two things I began to do straight away was: drink only boiled, or bottled, water - this will need to be mainly boiled as buying water is a drain on finite financial resources; eat vegetarian – not a problem as I was one for seven years and my host family, although not strict vegetarians, eat meat only on occasions.  All in all, the clamour, noise, dust, overflowing electricity pylons, prayer flags, brightly coloured cars and houses amongst other things create an abundance of abuse for the senses that is hard not to be intoxicated by.




     (Pasta and pulses)                                        (Holumba Haven)


       (A bit larger than a 5p piece!)                   (Life in the Clouds begins)


         (Colourful buildings)                                 (Mind your head, arm, leg...)


         (Holumba Haven)                                    (The nurseries at Holumba Haven)

(Views when the clouds reveal the hills below along the road to Kashyem)

After two brief days, Kalimpong had been surveyed: two restaurants, a coffee shop and ATMs sourced for future visits and I had also managed to shake jet lag with a strict sleep timetable.  By the Sunday morning (16^th Sept – 74 years ago today my grandparents married in Coimbatoire, India towards the end of WWII) it was time to head to my village of Kashyem and meet my host family. 

What a journey!  The road rises up even further from Kalimpong into ever thicker rainforest.  Strangely enough the road was probably the smoothest and quietest of all we’d driven on to that point.  The views became more majestic and, despite cloud, it was clear that I was going to be able to see higher peaks.  On the way to Kashyem we dropped Ruth at her placement.  It was quite a large school building, with the owner’s accommodation attached.  Once dropped off, introduced and settled, we left Ruth to continue our journey to Kashyem.   On the journey, Santa uttered the immortal words “Now I must warn you about your homestay.”  Clearly, having seen Ruth’s accommodation, which had a marble floor, a western style toilet and a shower, he thought I may be expecting similar.  I have to admit I wasn’t, but his concern certainly ensured I lessened my expectations further. 

Kashyem is even further along the mountain and lower than where we dropped Ruth (Algara).  It is a village dotted up and down a large area of the mountainside.  It has a population of 1,200 people.  It is steep and the road is perilious – apparently it also runs out after Kashyem (hence the distinct lack of traffic).  I don’t think I could have felt any further away from civilisation, and that is saying something for someone who has lived in Mongolia.  However, I also wasn’t very worried, which was surprising given that Santa had, not long previously, retold Ruth and I the story of the volunteer who contracted septicaemia and was, eventually, airlifted to Delhi and then after a week airlifted to the UK.  In all honesty, it was only with a modesty of apprehension, that I climbed out of the jeep and stood on a road that wound its way lazily down and across the mountainside through the village of Kashyem.  The views were incredible.  The colourful little houses, with washing waving in the breeze, stood brightly against the relatively dark green foliage of the forest. 


                                   (Nepali prayer flags)

(Main Street, Kashyem)  

     (View from outside the homestay)      (View from edge of Kashyem village)


     (Waterfalls cascade through the village - the sound of water can always be heard.  Our uphill                 neighbour's house)

 (The road from my homestay, up through the village past       some of our neighbours)

The chickens scratched around noisily whilst the dogs lay around sleepily.  The little houses were dotted along the road, but due to the steepness of the hillside they also stood above their neighbours in many cases, each nestled in their own little bit of forest.  The houses were simple, mostly made from mud or cement and wood.  Many had metal rooves.  Some are single storey with a few double storey ones.  Santa directed us down some stone steps and to the door of my homestay.  Nestled in between, what I would later find out was, many cardamom plants (they grow big) the little pale blue house had brown windows and a blue roof.  In fact, it was the blue roof I saw first as we approached it from above.  

(Bedroom)

(excuse the feet)

(Mount Kanchenjunga just visible from the road above my homestay - at 8,586m high, it is just 262 metres shorter than Mount Everest)

Sunita, the wife of the Head of New Rise School where I was to be based, welcomed us and showed me through to my room.  With a double bed, desk and two chairs it was comfortable and clean.  The windows were open and there was a light breeze blowing the thin curtains around.  We walked through to the kitchen and then I was shown another room, formally one daughter’s bedroom, which is now the living room, although it is rarely used.  My thought at the time was that it was probably, primarily used to receive people for special celebrations and occasions.  It was indicated that this would be somewhere I may want to use to read or work or rest.  SM, the Head of New Rise school, came through and introduced himself.  He apologised.  Firstly, because he was late.  Outside, they were harvesting the family crop of cardamom and, as is customary, neighbours and family friends were round helping.  He had to host them.  Then, he apologised for the mess they were in as he was building two more rooms on the back of his house.  SM’s English is very good and he explained much about his house, how welcome I was and that I was part of his family.  It was humbling for me to be welcomed with such open hospitality and acceptance.  I forgot about any anxieties or worries.  They could take care of themselves.  Sure, I quickly found out that, because the toilet was demolished to make way for the new rooms, the old toilet is being used currently.  It is (very) basic but, it does the job.  I also hadn’t thought to ask about washing – either myself or my clothes – and 1000 other questions, but what did it matter?  We would get there.  In that moment of time, if truth be told, I was far from anywhere, with nothing but basic necessities and I wasn’t concerned at all.  The welcome had erased any reason for concern.  Under that feeling of comfort, we made our way out to see where the toilet was - I made a decision never to attempt the journey in the dark, even with my new headtorch and hand-held torch fully operational – and realised it wasn’t half as exciting as the smoky smell coming from a little shack just uphill from it.  Leaving 'the hole', as I have affectionately nicknamed the loo, behind, I walked uphill a little to find, smoking on a large rack, hundreds of cardamom seeds. We spent much more time looking at this process and from here, I forgot about the ablutions situation and asked SM to take me to the front of the house where a group of about 5 men were all shelling cardamom pods – magic!  The cardamom pods are pretty big with individual shells for each cardamom.  The cardamom themselves are also larger than I expected – about the size of a prune.  They are shelled and then dried over a fire.  In India the final, dried cardamom is much larger than the ones we find in shops.  Opening one of the fresh purple cardamom seeds, before drying, was fascinating.  Inside there was a white flesh with small brown seeds (it had the look of a passion fruit).  The flesh was very sweet and the seeds incredibly flavoursome.  They do not quite taste of cardamom exactly, but the hint is there.  Quite the experience having never known how a cardamom starts its life.

(Cardamom seed inside its pod)

(Cardamom pods in head basket)

So, within approximately 15 minutes of my arrival, I felt pretty much at home.  A very different home, yes, but home.  It was a very special feeling.  Certain that there were going to be many moments where I would be totally unsure, a bit homesick and even isolated, I focused on this great feeling of belonging and have tried hard to remember it each time I have wanted to worry about something since.

As I reach this point I have to say - I hope this blog makes sense.  I have written it for three days knowing that it is very unlikely I will get to publish it for some time – possibly another two weeks.  There is no wifi where I am and with what little 4G (and not even that most of the time) I get through my SIM (local) I am only afforded access to whatsapp and messenger, and that is only on one or two parts of the village.  I really have no other choice than to go with it and see when I will arrive at a place where I can access internet, download my photos and put everything together to publish this.  I will hopefully be in Kalimpong in a couple of weeks’ where this might be possible.  It could be a long read by then folks!

                         
     (View from school playground - Life in the Clouds)

(Assembly)

(New Rise Academy, Kashyem)

(View of school from road below as it winds through village)

(Classrooms are basic, yet functional)

School has started well.  By the end of day two I was helping to plan with the English teacher who teaches English 1 and 2 (similar to our Lang and Lit structure) to Years 1,2,3,4 (not similar to our system at all).  From those first couple of days one of my main focus (in addition to those identified) has to centre around the children’s spoken English.  The schools working with Mondo have all been completing self-improvement plans and it is evident that sentence structure, tense and sound pronunciation are all identified as priorities by the school staff too, among other things.  It was good to at least have a starting point from which to begin co-ordinating things.  It was beginning to take shape.  My whole being here was beginning to have form.  It was reassuring and the fact that one or two other teachers had been asking when I would be with them, was even more so.

The physical build of the Nepalese is quite small and identifying the age and year of children by height has been impossible.  Luckily, I am now, less frequently mistaking 10 year olds as 7 year olds as I get used to the difference in height.  Mind you, children here are held in a class until they have passed their exams to move to the next year group, which does add to the confusion in identifying particular year groups.  There are some much older children in the younger year groups. 

Two of the Year 7 students lodge with SM and Sunita also.  Reshav and Atit have their homes in Sikkim, but New Rise School has a good reputation and their parents wanted them to attend.  The boys stay here for the whole term unless there is a holiday coming up.  For example Dusshara, which celebrates friends, will be held from 15^th – 26^th October, and the boys will travel home to see their parents and friends.  They have been quite excited as they are apparently given money at the festival.  It has been such a good thing having them here.  They walk me to and from school, are teaching me Nepali words (I know ‘My name is’, ‘milk’, ‘rice’, ‘Where are you going?’, thank you, black tea and road so far, amongst others) and have been instrumental in helping me find my feet.  In return, I can help them with their homework – as long as it isn’t too scientific – and, more importantly, with their English.  The route to school is steep and takes about 15/20 minutes to walk.  We use this time to practise each other’s languages.  They were both reading this as I typed it and I kept asking questions as to the meaning of it – their understanding was, IS very good!  The boys have come to call themselves my body guards, which they find very humorous.  I think it is partly on the part of SM who, as gracious as ever, is doing his best to support and watch out for me.  I can not tell you how many times they check I am OK – food, sleeping, washing, access to boiled water… – the list goes on.  Incredibly caring, without being overbearing.  After just five days, I feel integrated, helping with the washing up, helping myself to more and generally trying to be of use – perhaps I should start putting the hens in at night next!

(from LtoR  - Amit - who lives next door with SM's brother, Reshav and Atit - and me!)

Satish (English teacher) and I have worked well together and I was very proud of our teamwork for our teaching on the third day.  Using things both of us have learned we combined lessons and pretty successfully made the three hours of English for Class 1 (yes, you read correctly, the three hours of English for the 6 year old Year 1s) interactive and engaging.  At one stage, this included a 10 minute spell moving around the playground after which I was dripping in sweat.  I can’t tell you how hot and humid it can get here.  Luckily, the basic concrete structure of the school buildings and the damp air make the classrooms cool if a little dank and mouldy.  The focus for teaching is still on learning by rote and copying from text books.  However, there must be a place for this in the educational experience of Nepali children as, whilst the younger children find answering questions more difficult, the level of understanding further up the school gets better. I found this out when I taught a Year 8 Geography lesson to help out when a member of staff was ill.  No, I am not sure why anyone thought I would be a very good Year 8 Geography teacher either!?   For me though the experience did allow me to think about how I would/could help develop children's ability to ably express what they are learning in their own words - not by rote and not as a whole class.  I am not sure how much this is the case for a lot of the year groups in what we would call the ‘primary’ school at New Rise.  This is something both Satish and I have chatted about a lot – it is good to be on the same wavelength despite the very different paths we have been on up to this point where they have crossed.

After school, which finishes at 3.00pm for most students, Year 8 and above stay until 4.30pm, the boys wait for me to finish preparation for the next day and we walk back home at about 3.30pm.  It begins to get dark from about 5.30pm and is dark by 6.15pm.  I am not yet brave enough to walk around the village after dark – mainly because of the uneven ground and uneven stone steps that navigate their way through the forest.  Dinner is served at 7.30pm and by 8.15pm we are all in our rooms.  It seems strange to be in bed so early, but it gives me a chance to catch up on the blog (bore you to tears) and to consider the day past and what tomorrow might bring.  Never in a million years do I expect to be able to convey to you the sheer impact being here has had on me.  I have been stripped bare when it comes to my personal hygiene.  I am surrounded by stunning forest covered, and snow topped, mountains.  I have been welcomed by a family who count me as their own.  I am miles from anywhere and have to focus incredible hard to understand and be understood sometimes.  It is overwhelming.  But pleasantly, excitingly, amazingly so.  A constant rush of thoughts, new experiences and questions flowing through the mind.

(Stone steps - morning exercise - up/down, up/down)

(Kashyem rises from the clouds below)

(Doggy, yes 'Doggy', our 6 month old puppy)

(One of the cockerels stealing Doggy's food - he does it every day!)

At this point, I have to stop and let you know that on Wednesday 19^th September I did my first load of washing.  Squat in front of a bucket with warm water with a bag of the same detergent brand I used in Mongolia, I set about scrubbing my clothes.  There would have been laughs amongst the vast majority of you if you could have seen me.  One of the boys that lives here decided that I wasn’t quite doing it right and began teaching me the correct way to hand wash my clothes.  It is a little bit embarrassing that I had to have lessons from a Year 7 as to how to do my washing, but actually it was a very good lesson.  Please note, that I did the majority of the washing myself and even hung it up, but Atit is clearly much more used to the practicalities of my current living situation than I am and did not feel I was doing it correctly. 

(Like every good teacher, Atit demonstrates what is needed and how to soak, lather, rinse)

(I follow suit)

(Voila - completed washing on the washing line!)

I probably have not talked enough about the stunning location of Kashyem.  It really is sensational.  I look out over a deep valley, with a similarly steep mountain facing me, to the one I am on.  Towards the northwest, behind the opposite hill, there is a snow topped mountain called Kanchanjunga.  It is the tallest mountain in this part of the Himalayas and is a much talked about sight in this region – you can see from the pictures above, why.  To the north east, on a clear day, it is possible to make out the border with China, where Sikkim sits high up and the terrain of China spreads out below it.  Sikkim is still a land which holds certain ties to its time as a separate state and is supposedly a much different place to experience to India – I will need a ‘pass’ (valid for 15 days) to visit Sikkam.  It is apparently beautiful and the ‘border’ is just 8 km from the village.  Sunsets happen to the back of house and behind our tall mountain as it curves its way to the next village along.  The sky takes on some quite beautiful colours as the sun sets.  The thick forest that literally surrounds me is full of bamboo, cardamom plants, banana and banyan trees, the peepal tree and a huge variety of greenery I can’t begin to fathom.  Small allotments belonging to the villagers back onto their colourful houses – everything giving a strong sense of security given the precarious way some of it seems to be clinging to the mountainside.  

My first day of rain came on the Thursday of my first week.  Fancy that, I had left home a week prior to the rain coming – perhaps the universe wanted to reassure me.  Luckily for me, Sunita had brought my washing in from the rain whilst I was at school and re-hung it in a covered area next to the house.  I don’t know how long things will take to dry, but I am anticipating a fair while.  The clouds swirled around us when the weather closes in making it feel as though we were trapped in a thick fog.  Even the playground became shrouded to a point that children on the far side could only just be seen.  It is really quite astounding to watch the shifting view across the valley as the clouds sweep across and block out parts of it.  We are living above and within the clouds there is no doubt.  It is quite the most special feeling.  The only animals I have seen are those domesticated by the village.  Those, and insects!  Huge spiders (harmless unless provoked), some larger than life fly things, beetles and, of course, mosquitoes.  I have managed to protect myself pretty well, but have fallen victim to the inevitable few bites.  No fatal ones yet ;o)  Warning: large spider approaching in next set of photos!
                                   
                                        

(This is the same view towards Kanchenjunga as above)

    

(View across the playground as the cloud swirls around the village, swallowing it up)

My food has been absolutely delicious.  Sunita has created wonderful vegetarian foods that are full of flavour with not too much heat.  We are going to try increasing that as time goes on.  Sunita does not speak English, but it is clear from what SM and the boys ask me that she wants to ensure I am well looked after.  Comments from volunteers in the past mentioned the amount of rice as too much all day and I must admit if I had to eat the volume of rice that is sometimes eaten I think I would have a problem.  However, luckily for me, I am the benefactor of previous ‘moans’.  I have eaten pancakes, roti, pasta and potato as accompaniments to the small vegetable dish that is cooked for me.  On one occasion I have also eaten fish.  It was an interesting purchase so far from and body of water I knew…or a fridge.  Just a man selling fish on the side of the road one hot day, his five fish kept in his sackcloth bag slung over his arm.  But, he filleted and descaled and cut up the fish pretty niftily given the size of the old and battered sythe he appeared to be using.  It was again, incredible.  As promised, I forgot about my food hygiene background and sat down to enjoy the fish in a rich, spiciest yet sauce.  Every dinner is served with a bowl of dhal.  Sometimes quite thick, but often runny it can be mixed with the rice and my vegetable dish.  A particular favourite was fresh squash from the garden (fed partly at least by the water I throw away from washing) an onion friend lightly in oil with a light spice and served with chapati, rice and dhal.  My lunches are slightly smaller, usually consisting of one dish, but equally delicious and clearly all fresh.  Breakfast, which I am not usually so keen on, takes the form of rice for the rest of the household, but omelette or pancakes or roti and potato for me.  I am totally in awe of the food and am pleased to be with a family who are so supportive of me as a volunteer.  Let’s see what happens when we ‘up’ the spice level!

    (Dinner to start, omlette, rice and dhal)                             (Curried carrot with roti - breakfast)

(Curried beans, rice, curried potato, dhal and potato crisps) 

(Curried beans, fish soup, rice, dhal and poppadom)

(Purchasing the fish for dinner)

(Chapati and curried squash with black tea - breakfast)

(Huge insects)

(A spider welcoming to my room)

(poisonous caterpillar)

I guess it was inevitable, but my only day of frustration came on Friday 21^st September.  There really is bureaucracy everywhere and here in India it is no different.  It seems that, having travelled here on an employment visa, I not only had to be registered in Kalimpong, but also Darjeeling.  Taking the day out of school I travelled the 3.5 hours (or 56km) from Kashyem to Darjeeling.  It is, of course basically down one mountain and up the other.  The views are amazing and I will photograph them on my next trip to Darjeeling.  On this occasion, it was simply a case of head down and try to sleep as we made the windy, hilly journey.  The road from the river down in the valley up to Darjeeling was great.  It was tarmac, but studded with little black stones, I guess the size of conkers, poking their head above the tarmac slightly.  The stones were evenly placed across the road, probably about 6 cm apart.  Given that these fairly formal rows of stones continued for the 41km to Darjeeling from the river junction, it would take a mathematical genius to work out how many thousands of stones were used.  I commented on the road as we made the return journey – “This road was made by the British” came the reply.  ‘Oh, we seem to be pretty good at it in other countries, why not at home?’ I quietly thought to myself in the back seat.  I assume the little stones are there as grip for when the incredibly steep road is slippy from the monsoons.  Anyone who has been up Sutton Bank in North Yorkshire will know what I am talking about when I say steep, but here?  Well, just imagine the relative short length of Sutton Bank repeated for 20km!

Darjeeling is unbelievable.  If I thought the buildings in Kalimpong and Kashyem were like limpets to the mountain, they have nothing on Darjeeling.  Huge buildings, some four or five storeys tall, seemingly precariously, on the mountainside.  There are hotel names like the Ramada here and other pretty swanky looking places – all built in a hotch potch of togetherness with internet cafes, banks, private homes and car mechanics.  The roads are so narrow it seems impossible for two cars to pass and yet this is the main route into Darjeeling from our direction.  Add to this the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway (a UNESCO World Heritage site) and you have one enormously crowded place.  Put it all on a mountainside and it’s a whole new ball game.  Incredible!  So, we arrived but our time was short.  We made our way to the ‘Foreign Registration’ building.  We waited, for the man who had not started work yet (at 11am).  When he finally came the news was not great.  It seemed that an entirely new set of paperwork needed to be completed, with supporting documents attached, before I could be confirmed in the country.  Who knows?  The trip was not an entire waste – I did my electronic form completing in an internet café and handed the rest over to Santa to handle over the next few days, before my deadline for registration expired.  Of course, we are all used to government agencies messing us about, but when it involves a 3 hour journey both ways, during which it is impossible to do anything, the thought of repeating it is not pleasant.  Hopefully, I will not actually need to appear in person next time.  Anyway, on to sorting the necessary documents (pdf format only) without access to wifi or internet of course.  I love a challenge!  At the end of the day, my frustration was with a process rather than anything to do with why I am here or the experience thus far.  Hopefully that process will be complete very soon.

(the little engine creeps through the stationery traffic and shop fronts)

(A miniature railway above the clouds)

Thank you to all who have donated to this experience.  Today, I have bought small footballs (for circle time games as well as what they are designed for), two shawls to put on the classroom floor to act as carpet for story time and stationery - a pair of scissors, stickers and colouring pencils, all of which are non-existent at school.  Kalimpong definitely has most things I could need for school, as I was promised, but having only been there once before the latest venture, it was confusing, busy and hot.  I got lost a few times and couldn’t find one particular shop I had seen last time.  Not a shopper at the best of times, everyone was very helpful and loved the fact that I thanked them in Nepali.  It got to be a bit of a running joke that people kept seeing me walking past.  It was a relief to finally sit down in a restaurant to vegetable chow mein and sweet and sour vegetables. 

At this point I will finish the blog for now.  Internet issues and connectivity have challenged the downloading of photos and the uploading of the blog.  It may be a return to internet cafes for me!  Still, hopefully you will have found this installment interesting, if somewhat long.