Life at 7,000 feet

I remember saying that I would write about our daily life once I figured out what our daily life was going to consist of.  The truth is, every day is different and I am still trying to figure out where to put in time for myself, time for cleaning, time for play into our days.

The week days all begin with me trying to get in a shower before Andy leaves for work.  If this doesn't happen, I have to try and fit it in after Oliver's nap (because the shower wakes him from his nap) which is so close to lunch time that it really stresses me out.  So I race through a shower and then get breakfast ready for me and Oliver.  Andy eats breakfast at school because it just is more convenient for him to do so time-wise.  Breakfast is a popular time to Skype with people in the States because it is evening there, so often we spend our time conversing with friends and family over coffee and eggs (for me!).

Breakfast takes so long that we usually get about 20-30 minutes of play time in before Oliver is ready to nap.  Once he goes down I try to fit in a little exercise (this piece most often gets skipped, it's just wishful thinking most days!), mostly yoga, and then I clean or make food for Oliver.  We fired our maid, so all cleaning and laundry now falls to me.  The laundry machine is non-stop especially now that we are using washable diapers, so I try to fit a load of laundry in there somewhere too.  I make all of Oliver's food.  He no longer wants to eat anything pureed (he is a big boy after all!) and he has not a single tooth yet so I am making lots of super-soft and super-small cooked foods for him.  He favorites right now are beets and pumpkin.

Oliver wakes up 1.5-2 hours later and depending on what time it is we either have ourselves a dance party, or go for a walk, or play in the field by our house.  We head down the mountain to school for lunch at 12:30.  Lunch is my favorite time of day.  We get to see Andy, I get some MUCH needed adult interaction and Oliver gets to play with his buddy Ennis on the playground.  It always flies by, but that hour to hour and a half is always a relief for me.  Once I week I usually walk into the bazaar with my friend Fabi for some "girl time".  Oliver either naps in his carrier or takes a later nap once we get home.
Once he is down for nap number 2 I finish any cleaning tasks I didn't get to before (I just wiped down the bathroom and  I am looking at a counter full of dishes), any cooking/baking I didn't get to finish and then I really really try to read and just sit still for a moment.
Oliver usually takes a shorter nap, 1-1.5 hours and then we are off to play again!  He is obsessed with holding onto furniture and taking steps right now, so we could do that for a very very very long time.  Around 4:30 or so we either go for a walk or go meet Andy at school or go into the bazaar, it changes all the time.  We were eating dinner at school with our friends (it was so easy for me, no cooking or clean up!) but I am missing cooking dinner and frankly, we need to better eating more balanced meals.  The meals at school are all starch: rice, dal, chickpeas, potatoes...I need more veggies in my life!  So we quit the meal plan for November and we will see how that goes for us.
We often take Oliver to staff gym nights on Mondays and Wednesdays and let him climb around on the mats in the gymnastics room. Other nights we just play on the floor at home the three of us, until it is time to wind down for bed.  Then Andy and I get two hours together before we are completely exhausted and turn in ourselves.  Then it all starts again the next day!

Weekends are the best.  Andy is home and we get to explore or eat out or just do whatever excites us that day.  The past few weekends we have spent one day just walking for HOURS.  I love it.  We leave after Oliver's morning nap, get lunch out, and just walk until it is dinner time.  Oliver naps in his carrier and Andy and I get to spend some time out of the house (a must for me!).  Sometimes we go into the city and get lunch an shop, other times we hike up a nearby mountain and other days we just walk through the bazaar.  It is just great to have Andy around.

Gotta get to those dishes! xo

Maintenance

Now is as good a time as any to tell you that we do not have central heat...and it is getting cold...and we live in a poorly insulated concrete house.  (Any sliver of hope I was holding onto that my mother might visit has just vanished with the typing of that last sentence)  So we plan on using our fireplace in the living room and the bucari (think wood stove) in our bedroom along with two electric heaters we have purchased.  This is what people who were here last year did, so we followed their lead.  Yes, we are nervous (I am honestly quite terrified) but the average low here is 35 (every Midwesterner is thinking that sounds pretty great, aren't you?) and we are hearty Midwestern folks so I am hoping we can survive with all fingers and toes in place and a still-solid marriage.  I will keep you posted.

Then came the email from the head of maintenance saying we could not use our electric heaters, that they use up way to much electricity and that the grid/generator cannot handle them thus they are banned.  People were outraged.  They fired off angry responses, contacted the board, held meetings with the principal.  Not only has everyone spent a great deal of money on these heaters, but some people will truly NEED them as some apartments have no primary heat source.  One friend who is a dorm parent says she has no bucari, no fireplace, no means of heating her place up.  So what is she supposed to do?  People who were here last year said the same email went out and that they (very covertly) still used their electric heaters. So we all agreed to keep using our heaters, generator be damned.  We will see how that works out for us all.  I am going to have to use something during the day, I cannot see myself keeping a fire going for the few hours we are here in the morning, then putting it out to go to school, then restarting it when we come back.  I was up for roughing it and for an adventure, but by no means am I a pioneer.  I need to be WARM.  I will be plugging in my heater and layering.  We will have fires at night, try to save electricity, but during the day that is going to be a very daunting task for me to continuously tend to a fire while I also deal with Oliver.

Then today I very stupidly tried to put an earring in while standing over the bathroom sink.  It didn't go down the drain, but it bounced it's way down to the drain in our floor and sunk down deep.  I panicked.  These earrings were a present from my mom (the black pearls, Mom!) and beyond how much I like them, I am very sentimental about them.  I threw Oliver into his Johnny Jump Up (oh boy, that kid loves to jump!) and got out my head lamp, wooden spoon and duct tape.  I got the pipe that runs from the sink to the drain in the floor out of the drain so I could see down this larger whole.  There was my earring.  I tried to get it to stick to a roll of duct tape on the end of the spoon, but there was some standing water down there so it wouldn't stick.  I went and grabbed a fork and tried to scoop it out but my visibility was so low I couldn't tell where to put it and I was afraid to push it down the pipe further.  I sat on my bathroom floor and cried.  Oliver was happily bouncing away, not questioning at all why his mother was sitting on the bathroom floor, wearing a flashlight on her head, holding a fork and crying.

I decided I needed professional help.  I put Oliver in his carrier and walked to school to ask maintenance if they could recommend a tool for me.  The whole walk down I thought about all the work these men do.  Repair pipes, replace water heaters, build fences, repair wiring.  I was surely going to be laughed at and told my earring retrieval was a waste of their time, or be told they could get to it in three weeks.  When I walked into their offices, the man at the desk stood to great me and offered me a seat.  I explained how embarrassed and stupid I felt but that I also really needed their help because I really REALLY want my earring back.  The man took me to find his partners and very seriously explained the situation.  When it was determined that neither a magnet nor a wire was going to help me one of the men grabbed two tiny pick axes and jumped on another's scooter.  I was told to walk back home, they would meet me there.  The men pounded at the cement seal around the drain until it popped out.  The man with smaller hands then reached down and dug around.  He pulled out bits of cement, buts of shear yuckiness and lint.  I was heartbroken.  Surely he had pushed it further, he even said "no good, Ma'am".  Then he reached down one more time and pulled out my precious pearl.  I cried.  They got embarrassed and left in a hurry.  I was overwhelmed with relief and so grateful to them for their help.

I have since composed an email to the head of the maintenance department, the man who helped me and the principal.  I thanked them profusely and told them how much they are appreciated.  I hope it sunk in. I know they took A LOT of heat when their "no heaters" email went out.  I know they were just doing their job.  But we are still going to use our heaters. 

Diwali!

Our first Diwali!  Wikipedia can explain it better than I can.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diwali  All of our Hindu friends say this is their biggest holiday.  Our friends Surya and Uma threw a party to celebrate.  Their home had hundreds of candles along the floor and marigolds on every surface.  We had a buffet on their patio from which you could see all of the town of Mussoorie and into the valley of Dehra Dun.
Oliver had his first experience with fireworks!  He loved the sparklers and the Roman Candles, but anything that BOOMED elicited major tears and looks of concern.  We didn't stay too long after the fireworks started but it was so nice to be able to spend an evening with friends and share in their holiday.

As we walked home we saw several displays of fireworks in the valley from the road.  The whole sky was lit up, made all the more visible because it is a new moon.  Now we are home and I am hearing constant rumbles in the distance.  Henry would be going crazy here.  The fourth of July was never really his thing.

I will post pictures of the party soon.  I forgot to pack my camera cord but the school has some desktops that can read my card.  It's just a matter of timing and motivation.

But here are two things I think you will enjoy:

This is a shot of India during Diwali as taken from a NASA satellite.

And Steve Carell doing his best Adam Sandler impression and singing about Diwali (this I have had in my head all day!).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_B5i6DC2BtM&feature=related

Happy Diwali!
xo

Coffee

Oliver and I were skyping with his Uncle Dan this morning.  Dan mentioned that he and Jessica went to our former neighborhood coffee place, Star Lounge this weekend. I don't know if Andy and I realized just how lucky we were to have one of the top ten coffee houses in Chicago http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/09/29/national-coffee-day-how-w_n_987371.html#s379233&title=Star_Lounge at the end of our block. When Andy went back to work I could strap Oliver into his stroller, walk two minutes and then enjoy a fabulous cup of coffee and a little adult interaction.

In India the coffee is, in a word, awful.  In two words, God awful.  It is mostly instant.  It tastes like burning.  There are some non-instant coffee options; most popular are the "Monsoon Blends" they taste moldy.  I really have yet to have a great cup of coffee here.  Everything tastes old, dry, burnt, yuck.
It is hard for coffee people like us to not have some even remotely decent options.  My Aunts in Miami sent us with some fantastic Cuban coffee which is what we have been brewing in the morning.  When that runs out, I guess we will have to become tea people. I really don't see a different option.  I refuse to purchase instant coffee.

"Coffee Culture" as it exists in the States, does not exist here.  These are tea people.  Chai people.  It is not easy for a lactose-intolerant person to find many options beyond black tea.  That said, the black tea is great; quite tasty.  There is ONE coffee shop in the new Mussoorie bazaar.  Called "Cafe Coffee Day" it is located next to a Dominoes.  This location should tell you about the quality of coffee beyond it's doors.  It tastes like water.  Most coffee in India is brewed with milk (they love their milk!) and then entire cups of sugar are added (to hide the flavor).  Some places even put a scoop of ice cream in their coffee (again, it's not "coffee" at that point, that's a coffee sundae!).  Cafe coffee day takes their drinks to the brink; each one is covered with whipped cream, ice cream, chocolate syrup, sprinkles, brownie bits....it is truly bizarre.  The men behind the counter cock their heads to the side and ask, "Are you sure?" when Andy and I order our BLACK coffee ("You want it brewed with WATER?") with sugar ON THE SIDE.  It still tastes like bath water, but at least we won't get stomach/tooth aches.  Once when we were in Dehra Dun I ordered an iced coffee, black.  It came to be looking like a black and tan.  What was my coffee suspended above in my glass?  I took a sip from my straw and *winced*, ugh, syrup!  I walked back to the counter and explained that black coffee also means no sugar..."No sugar, Ma'am?  Are you sure?"  I know I will regret it, but yes, no sugar.  No instant cavities with my second drink but I had all five counter guys staring at me in bewilderment, watching every sip, is she really drinking THAT?

Our social outings have changed since moving here.  No longer do we stroll through our neighborhood, coffees in hand.  No longer do we meet friends at coffee shops.  Here, we walk empty handed and meet friends at their homes.  It's different, but less costly.  We drink black tea and lament the horrible coffee with our friends from the states.  Care packages arrive and phone calls are made: "We've got Colombian here, come on over!" It's become a luxury rather than a daily practice.  I guess it's nice.  Good coffee is another item on the list of things never to be taken for granted again.

I was reading in the newspaper that a Starbucks is opening up soon in Delhi.  It is going to be interesting to see if the coffee culture takes off here or if they will steadfastly hold onto their teas. I would kill for a Starbucks right about now.  I really would. 

Planet of the Apes

I said I would never do it.  I would cringe when I saw others do it.  Andy has done it. My friends have done it in front of me. I just didn't think I could bring myself to ever even consider doing it.  Then today, I did it.

I threw a rock at a monkey.

Our campus security guards have slingshots (wrist rockets they are called here) and they leave their posts when they see the Rhesus coming and fire rocks rapidly up into the trees at them to discourage them from coming onto the ground.  I wince as the rocks slice through the leaves.  "Please don't hit them, please don't hit them," I think to myself.  The monkeys don't realize what is campus property and what isn't.  They don't discriminate trees as they move through.  They have babies and are just trying to find food. They have just as much right to be here as any other living thing. Pests or not, I just could not imagine hurling a rock at them myself.

But today as Oliver and I made our way down the mountain for lunch, we came into a troop of at least 70 monkeys.  I stopped counting.  They were EVERYWHERE.  Above us in the trees, to our right in the bush, to our left sitting along the road.  Monkey city.  My heart raced.  I looked behind us and watched several make their way down onto the road.  Trapped.  Monkeys surrounded us.  They seemed fearless.  They were crawling up through the fence along the road and staring at me.  Two males sat up  (they can be so tall!) and followed my every move.  Oliver was tight to me in the harness and he just watched as they leapt from their perches down closer to us.  I kneeled down and picked up a large rock.  I had been advised to toss a rock and catch it over and over should I ever feel threatened.  I saw my friend Craig and Andy do this and monkeys scattered.  When I tossed my rock, they came closer.  They looked hungry.  They were not scared of me or my rock. They were making eye contact and I was trying so hard to avoid it!  I picked up our pace.  Calmly talking to Oliver in an attempt to calm myself.  I thought we had made it through the troop but then a male yelled out. Loudly. Cold sweat.  I turned around and four large (HUGE!) males were following us along the fence and getting closer.  So I whipped myself around, yelled "NOOOOO!!!!" I cocked my arm and aimed for the ground right in front of them and threw my rock-without any hesitation.  No longer was I for monkey rights, the only thought I had was keeping Oliver safe.  I yelled some more (looking crazy, I am sure) and picked up another rock and aimed, ready to throw at a second's notice.  They froze.  One of the males stood up and opened his mouth, aghast.  Did that big-haired white lady just throw a rock at me?  His expression was so human I laughed.  I lowered my arm, turned on my heels and headed toward the school.  Looking back a few more times to be sure that they had agreed not to follow us, I felt...confidant. I don't think I will go around hurling rocks at living things for the heck of it, but it felt good to have stood my ground and defended myself and my child.  No monkeys were harmed and I can still think "don't hit them!"when I see the slingshots coming out.  I feel like the monkeys and I came to an agreement.  I can pass without repercussion, as long as they can too. Let's see if that agreement holds true tomorrow.

Thrush

The only times I truly question our moving to India is when something happens to Oliver.  The first thought that ALWAYS runs through my mind is, "why did we move him away from the pediatrician who is always on call?"  Oliver took the corner of the coffee table to his forehead Monday last week (I was right next to him!) and he wailed for about ten minutes.  Once he finished crying, I started.  I got our things together along with an ice pack for my boy's head and decided to take him to the health center. It was a head injury after all!  There was swelling and even a little cut.  I was crying the entire walk to school.  My friend, Vimmi, saw me and asked me what was wrong (how I must have looked to her!).  I showed her Oliver's bump and started sobbing.  She gave me a huge hug and said that everything would be fine.  Bumps happen.  Get used to it.  We always cry harder and longer than they do.  Her husband had slammed their daughter's finger in the car door that weekend, and she is just fine now! At this point, Oliver was smiling at her and laughing and seemed to have completely forgotten that he had dented his head just 30 minutes earlier.  We never made it to the health center.  Two more mothers who work at the school saw me crying on Vimmi's shoulder and reiterated everything she said.  I gathered myself to go find Andy who asked with a horrified look "WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS HEAD???!!!" I sobbed some more.  Our friends Ahbra and Marcus (also Dads) came out of the Alumni office and hugged me while laughing, "[Our wives] were the same way!" Ahbra even said "Babies bounce! No worries!"
My aunt Patti's words were ringing in my ears: "Babies are very hard to kill." Deep breaths, lots of snuggles with Oliver and a large whiskey that night helped me get over the coffee table collision.  I know there will be more like that to come.  I need to toughen up.

Then on Friday seemingly out of nowhere, Oliver developed Thrush. It presented as a white tongue, a white spot on his inner cheek and immediate, awful diaper rash. Luckily, my friend Rose has a nineteen month old, Ennis, who had Thrush as a brand new baby.  She gave me lots of pointers and we got liquid probiotics, anti-fungal cream, cortisone cream and acidophilus capsules from the health center.  Everything was seeming okay; the diaper rash calmed within 24 hours and even the white spots in the mouth seemed to disappear.  But then last night, Oliver SCREAMED, howled, wailed as I was putting him to bed.  For a full hour I rocked him, sang , shushed, even pulled Andy off of a Skype call with his brother for assistance.  We had never seen him like this.  He was just beside himself; inconsolable.  After an hour of piercing screams, a dose of baby Tylenol was administered and he drifted off to restless sleep.
This morning I took him to see the doctor at the health center for a once-over; what is upsetting my happy kid?  I mean, he has never even had a cold, what is going on? Anything from teething to growing pains to a bad dream was the answer. Did I mention the doctor is from Chicago?  We have already had the restaurant/neighborhood/sports teams talk.  He's great and he doesn't treat me as if I am an annoying, frantic mother. He always answers my questions calmly and with a lot of reassurance.  Oliver is perfectly healthy, the thrush is clearing too.  He is starting to wake up from his nap now, I can hear him talking.

So we don't have the 24 hours peds to call on but we do have a fantastic health center that is always looking out for us. We are really lucky, and I am so grateful that I can take Oliver there with total confidence. 

Winterline

The Winterline is now visible! It's a false horizon only visible here and in Switzerland.  It is pretty beautiful and it creates a totally different sky from what I am used to seeing in sunsets.  Check it out:

http://www.nowpublic.com/world/winterline-enchants-tourists-mussoorie

So book your tickets now and stay in our extra bedroom so you can see what all the excitement is about!

BIG thanks to my Aunt Karen for helping me realize that the "honeymoon" period of life here is over and for saying that my previous posts weren't negative, they were just more "real".  xo

$7.00 pie filling

Andy informed me that the last two posts were "kinda negative" and that they "aren't going to convince anyone to come visit us" so here are two things that made me quite happy yesterday.

First, I went into the bazaar by myself.  Well, the little guy was with me of course, but Andy wasn't.  AND I was wearing my skinny jeans.  So I was both immodest and by myself.  Nothing happened.  People starred but people always stare.  No harassment, no uncomfortable situations and no men pinching my rump.  No surprise!  I really feel like we were so warned about this because of India's history of modest women.  But fashion for women has kept up with the times.  It is very unlikely that I am going to be harassed for what I am wearing.  Besides, people could not have cared less about me, they all wanted to talk to Oliver!  It was quite a nice trip in and out and I felt like now there are so many more opportunities for me to handle things by myself and not have to wait for Andy to be available.  Hurrah!

Second, I baked blueberry crisp last night.  My blueberry season was truncated by my summer departure from the midwest.  I have been craving berries like nothing else.  We have been told that we will have strawberries this winter, but no blueberries.  Heartbroken, I felt like I was going to have to wait a full year to have my delicious blues once more.  That is, until I walked into our mountain-top grocery store and saw one can of blueberry pie filling sitting there all alone on the shelf.  I scooped it up.  I didn't look at the sugar content, or the price, I didn't care!  It is quite likely that I was holding the only blueberries in all of India.  I got rung up and *ouch*, the equivalent of $7.00 was needed to pay for this one can.  I handed over the rupees gladly.  I read the back of the can when I got home: Oy! This can was from Michigan!  I can't bear to think of the carbon footprint this one can of pie filling has.  I made a gluten-free crumble topping and sprinkled it on my blueberries, waited 40 minutes and then....warm, gooey blueberry goodness.  It's nearly gone this morning. We saved one very narrow row for us to enjoy today.  It was heaven. I would gladly pay 350 rupees again for this experience.

So, come and visit!  I can confidently escort you into the bazaar and bake you one very-pricey fruit crisp!  If that doesn't make you want to book a ticket, I really don't know what will! xo

Perspective

The most glaring difference between India and the United States is the extreme poverty; it's everywhere and unavoidable and yet I wasn't able to write about it until now because took me a long time to process.   I am still processing.  There is so much I am unable to process. When we told people we were moving to Mussoorie, the people who had been to India or were from India told us we were lucky.  They all said it was the cleanest, "wealthiest" and "nicest" area of India.  I have been here two months and have only limited travel experiences around this country, but I do believe they are right.  Every time I leave I am so eager to return.  Though we do have a few trash-laden hillsides and people living in plastic tents, it is very obvious how much more poverty there is and how much less effort there is to corral the trash in the other areas we have been to.

This is someone's home.  It is several plastic tarps, propped up by branches.  Several people, including a few very small children live here.  The big white bags are used to collect plastic bottles.  They can turn them in for money.

This is the scene as you walk into town.  There are several "tents" and dozens of stray dogs.  I am told that the people in the tents used to only live in Mussoorie for the hot summers and then go back south for the winters but now they can make so much money collecting plastic bottles that they stay.

There are no social services or child protective services in India.  There are no shelters for homeless people to go to or food pantries where they can get supplies to feed their kids.  I was walking to town with two of my friends for dinner and as we passed the tents I heard a baby that sounded much younger than Oliver screaming and crying.  My heart sank fast.  That baby sounded in pain but what options were available to the parents?  Baby tylenol, a hot bath, a comfortable place to sleep, food????....all options seemed impossible to me and made me tear up.  We are so fortunate and have so so so much.  Insurance, food, a roof, these things are always on my mind as I walk by the tents.  I will never ever take my blessings for granted.

My friend Fabi connected me to a woman who works with the "tent people" as they are called.  Every Sunday they give away eggs at the local hospital to the families in the tents.  We have donated 45 eggs and may donate more but I have some hesitations.  Turns out, they give the eggs to the kids who come to Sunday School at the hospital.  Not that I want to deprive those children of food, but I don't think eggs should just be given to the children who come to Sunday school (come and get "saved" and then get eggs?).  I think food should be given to anyone who is hungry, not just those who are coming to learn about Jesus.  It is a problem (well, I think it is a problem, anyway) in India, this "missionary" mentality of so many, that it is someone's job to "save" the people.  I am getting quite fed up with it and feel it keeps some very necessary work from being done and from people getting help they really NEED.

There is an extreme juxtaposition of wealthy and poor here, unlike anything I have ever seen in the states.  There are estates, colossal mansions with expansive grounds both in Mussoorie and in Dehra Dun, the likes of which I have only ever seen in Bel Air or Miami.  These massive compounds line some very wealthy roads and then just outside their gates (truly, right beside the end of their driveways) are people living in plastic and tin shanties, lighting fires to boil water and sleeping on the ground.  There is extreme wealth in this country; India is no where near broke and it's economy is growing more and faster than America's.  But school is not mandatory which means many children are kept home to panhandle for their families and there are high rates of unemployment and homelessness.

It makes you feel like the biggest brut, the most insensitive person on the planet when you are shooing away begging children.  Children who's bellies are swollen, bodies are filthy and feet are shoe-less.  They come at you in packs and you can't give anything to just one of them so you look ahead and keep walking.  It breaks my heart and I feel completely helpless as I hug my well-fed, inoculated and sheltered baby to me.  I could go on and on about how corrupt the government is here (but show me a government that isn't?) and how they should stop stealing money from projects and put it towards food, clothing and health care for their children.  Will India ever see how important it is to take care of it's people?

There is a belief system, a way of treating people that is a remnant of the caste system. There is even a marked difference between "staff" (teachers and administration) and "employees" (everyone else) at Andy's school.  Maids, employees, service people are rarely regarded with respect.  It is amazing to me, and I find it very difficult to watch the maids eat outside of people's homes and the employees at school get to eat the the dark cafeteria once all the staff have eaten. These are all working people; you can imagine how the tent people are viewed now. India needs a major shift in it's thinking.  If these practices of disrespect and ambivalence continue as they are, no changes will be made to help the people who genuinely need it.  If one caste continues to see it as beneath them to help another lower caste, then everything will continue to remain the same.  It is another case of me wanting to take India by it's shoulders and shake it.  Wake up!

A beautiful mess

Oh India, you really are a striking country but your past and many traditions are not keeping up in so many ways.
The trash issue...it breaks my heart.  Beautiful mountainsides are covered with garbage, most of it plastic.  It is amazing to me that there is little to no understanding that this plastic with NEVER go away.  It will always be there, ALWAYS, on that once beautiful hillside.

This is one hillside on our way into town.  Lush, green, and yet look at those steps...coated in garbage.  Mussoorie is far (far!) from the worst of it.  The big cities, Delhi and Dehra Dun (my only big cities so far!) are blanketed by trash. It is a field day for the monkeys and homeless pigs.  Garbage galore!  Help yourself!

When Oliver and I first arrived in Delhi, Andy meet us at the airport and we were hosted by two  Woodstock parents, Sonya and Vikram.  They live in a wealthy suburb of Delhi called Noida.  Just looking at the homes in this neighborhood you could tell that the owners were successful, probably well educated and that they could afford very lovely places to live.  Yet, there were piles of trash in the street in front of countless homes.  Noticing that Sonya's driveway was trash-free I asked her why her neighbors had so much garbage in front of their homes.  I could tell this subject frustrated her a great deal. "It's the OLD way of thinking here: 'if it's out of my house, it's no longer my problem!'"  She went on to say those neighbors who think this way need to be more informed on what trash does to the environment and water.  She also said that her neighborhood has a very well-run sanitation system and that all they have to do is put their trash out in bins to be collected but that so many people view this as an act of great difficulty.  Oy.

We were having a snack with our friends this weekend at an outdoor restaurant at the top of our mountain.  This restaurant is located near a bridge that goes over a ravine. As we were eating, I watched as our 13 year old server took a box of trash and threw it over the bridge.  My heart sank.  Who knows if this child attends school, but it clearly showed that little is being done to educate the young on taking care of their environment. There is a fantastic sanitation system in Mussoorie and I am told they even sort through and recycle the plastic and gas (let's hope so!) and there are public garbage cans that are monkey-proof everywhere.  But yet, it is so much easier to to chuck the trash down the hill. It makes my blood boil.

Store owners sweep the trash out their stores and into the street gutter.  A couple of times we have been walking through town and have had napkins or plastic silverware or paper swept out onto our feet.  Have you no garbage cans in your place of business?  You can imagine the water situation this creates, but more on that later. So the garbage piles up and up and up... Given that India also views anyplace (a tree, a public street, a sidewalk, a pile of a garbage) as an acceptable place to relieve yourself and that there are no restrictions on automobile emissions, you can imagine the stench in the cities. Oy indeed! Andy has told me that he is quite envious of my lack of ability to smell things, that the odor of the cities (which are at a much lower elevation and therefore HOT!) can be unbearable, stifling.

I just want to shake this country sometimes.  WAKE UP!  Start to see the big picture and how these practices fit in!  Start small, I guess.  At least Andy can educate twelve children and hopefully they can go on and educate their parents and a few friends and they can pass it along....and so on.  Oh India!  So beautiful, so many rich traditions and yet such a hot, dirty mess.