Leaving India

NOTE: Originally, this post was to be about my feelings about leaving India.  It kind of morphed into my story of beginning to love the place, how I felt there, leaving, and looking back.  I'm at a loss for words about how to describe and explain a lot of things, but this is my best attempt.

It was exactly one year ago today that I left India for the first time.  Quite honestly, it was one of the most emotional, confusing, and discouraging things I've done in the recent past, if not ever in my life.

Those who know me, even in the slightest, know that I have a deep love for India.  I honestly don't know when or where it started.  I always remember having a fascination with the country and wanting to go there, even from a pretty young age.  My high school boyfriend was Sri Lankan, and throughout our relationship, I grew close to many Sri Lankans.  When he went to college, and I would visit him, I met and got to know a lot of his friends, most of which were Indian and Sri Lankan.  I suppose that is when and how it started.  I built close relationships and bonds with his friends, and they became my friends.  They shared their culture with me: the food, the music, the movies, the language, and so much laughter.  They shared their experiences and stories with me: stories of their families, how much they missed home, about their friends from their home countries, the racism they often faced in the US, and how much they loved their cities.  I heard time and time again about the beautiful city of Bombay (yes, it is called Mumbai, but most Indians I know speak of it as Bombay), and how it was the most beautiful city in the world.  My friends taught me Hindi and Sinhalese words (obviously the swear words first...), and told me about their favorite Bollywood movies.  My friend Nish started sharing songs with me, and I was instantly hooked. I remember so vividly my first reactions to Hindi songs, that they were so completely beautiful.  The way love and people and everything was described was so magical and new and meaningful.  Even when I think about it today, I am still astounded.  Everything in Hindi music is so romantic.  The love songs make you feel like you yourself are falling in love and the sad songs and completely heartbreaking.

All of these experiences and stories-from my friends, from the songs, and from the films-even though they were not mine, only drew me closer to India.  When my high school (and part of college) boyfriend and I broke up, I stayed in touch with my Indian and Sri Lankan friends, and my love for Indian culture only grew.  Nish would send me song after song after song, and he would painstakingly (THANKS, NISH :)) translate songs for me line by line.  He would find me links to movies with subtitles to watch.  I began to find my own songs and seek out translations.  I began to watch so many movies that I started to recongnize certain words.  First, Shaadi (wedding/marriage...obviously that's the first word you learn in Bollywood), then Kya hua (what happened?), and then the words for love-Prem, pyaar, aashiqui- and so on.  I became more curious about Hinduism and the social structure of India.  I started reading and asking questions.  And I haven't stopped.

Then, the spring of my first year of teaching, I decided, finally, to go.  I remember exactly the day.  I remember sitting at my desk during my prep hour and I just said to myself I'm going to India. I said it out loud.  I knew that if I didn't just go now, I never would.  I had just gotten my tax return, and it was almost enough to cover the ticket alone.  I had friends to stay with, so I wouldn't have to stay in a hotel.  So, I planned that I would save my tax return from this year and next year, and go to India.  But, I also knew myself well enough to know that if I didn't tell someone, I could easily back out.  So, when I went to lunch after my prep hour, I found Megan and told her. "I'm going to India.  Next Summer.  I'm going." And she was so excited for me.  And that's how it happened.

Finally the time came.  I had been approved for a 10 year, multiple entry visa, and I had booked my ticket for about a 5 week stay.  We planned to go to Goa, Agra, Delhi, Jaipur, and Udaipur...and of course time to explore Mumbai.  I also planned an 11 day trip to Sri Lanka to visit my friend there and see the country.  I had just finished a really hard year, professionally, and I needed this more than I thought I did.

My time in India has been some of the most fulfilling and content time I've experienced, although my time in Nepal is giving me a similar feeling.  I felt so connected and passionate about Indian culture, and when I arrived, I felt like I belonged.  Something clicked, and I just felt like I was home.  I loved the people and daily life.  Nish's friends so graciously accepted me into their group of friends.  They all welcomed me to their homes and showed such genuine friendship towards me.  Nish's family took good care of me, made sure I had everything I wanted and needed, and showered me with love and care.I loved hearing the Hindi and Marathi everywhere.  And THE FOOD.  Looking around at all of the clothes and the people bustling about in the street and sitting in the car and turning the car on to Hindi music, I felt at home.  I cannot properly describe the completeness I felt and just how the experience was for me.  Sure, I had some struggles and frustrations during my time, but for the most part they were trivial.  I am unbelievably luck that I got to go to the places I did.  I got to see Vasai and Delhi and Rajasthan.  I loved all of the places I went, but even after the small trips, I felt happy to be home in Vasai.  I was able to experience two festivals- Dahi Handi and Ganpati- while I was there.  I was blown away by the welcoming spirit everyone showed to me.  I grew used to the noise at night and in the morning-the barkinng dogs, cows and goats, horn honking, drums, call to prayer from the local mosque, and eve the full on band music.  In complete honesty, I am totally butchering everything I want to say about my time in India.  I'm not doing it justice, or adequately explaining how I felt there, but I don't know if I can.  All I can say is that I felt content, happy, and that I finally found a place to which I belonged.

Our famous after Goa selfie!

As a multi-racial daughter of a Korean adoptee, I have always felt like I struggled to find my cultural identity.  I never felt like I fit into the truly "American" narrative, and people knew I wasn't "completely white," but because my mom was adopted at such a young age from Korea and raised by a white American family that I didn't feel in touch with my Korean Heritage.  In high school and college, I struggled with my identity and how to define who I was.  I struggled, too, because others wanted to define me.  I didn't know what to tell them because I was so unsure myself.  Some days I said I was Korean, some days I said I was German (where my dad's side of the family came from many years ago), and some days I would say both.  This is true even today, however, I don't feel the need to put myself into those labels as much, and I don't feel the need to let others to either.

This confusion about my cultural identity, I believe, is what really started my curiosity about cultures and intensified my love for Indian culture.  I didn't feel connected to the culture I was born into, and I was so distant from the culture of my mom's past, that I felt the need to find a place where I belonged.  And while I was in India, for the first time, I felt like I belonged.  I felt that I believed and understood and embodied the culture around me.  I felt home and I felt happy.  Now, I'm sure my Indian friends would disagree with my belonging to Indian culture--to them, they can clearly see my American upbringing--but I didn't mind too much.  I just felt so at ease and comfortable in a culture, and I was happy about it.  (Sure, there were people who looked at me and were confused about me; I'll never escape that.  I look multi-racial, and people want to know which "boxes"I belong in).

About a month into my trip, I decided to extend my trip.  I wanted to stay for the Ganpati festival.  I didn't have a teaching position to return to in the fall, so if I was going to be unemployed, it may as well be in India.  Actually, what I decided was that I wanted to teach in India.  I wanted to find a job there, have my own flat, and live my happy Indian life.  So, I decided that's what I would do.  I was going to search for a job, then transfer my visa and move into an apartment.  I was determined not to let this happiness and acceptance that I had finally found escape me.  I called my parents and broke the news to them.  They were supportive of my decision; weary and a bit nervous, but completely supportive.  After Ganpati, we'd start searching for apartments for me.

Things didn't happen as planned, and I had to return early.  Some logistic-I was scared I was going to mess up my visa- and some personal.  I was completely devastated.  Here I was, in a place I truly adored and loved, with people I loved equally, and now I had to leave.

My last few days in India were so fun, but a bit tearful.  My last day, Nish took me to run a few errands and get a few last minute things to bring home, and we went home to pack.  My flight wasn't until after midnight, and I'm a last minute packer.  I convinced Nish that he should hang out with me while I pack (I simply cannot pack alone.  I need moral support).  I started taking all of my clothes and trinkets and folding them an sorting them into piles.  After only a few minutes, I started to feel my throat clench up and get that shallow breathing--all the things that happen when you know you're about to cry.  "It's not all going to fit" I tried to say as I started sobbing.  I don't use that word lightly here.  I was sobbing...and I'm not a pretty crier.... and I just cried.  I sat there on the floor in my room and I cried.  Then, Nish comforted me (this is a once-in-a-lifetime...he's more of a "STOP CRYING NOW!" kind of comforter), asked me to please stop crying, and packed all of my suitcases for me.  All the while, I continued to cry.  I just wasn't ready to leave.  I wasn't ready to leave my friends, my culture, or my new life.  They took me to the airport, and we took some group photos (SORRY I LOST CAMERA).  I said goodbye to the entire group, and then cried the entire way to my plane.  I cried through check-in, security, boarding, and take-off.  I watched movies and cried.

Leaving India is one of the hardest things I have experienced.  I was sad to leave a place I felt so connected to.  I also felt like I had failed.  I had always wanted to live outside the US and teach abroad, and I felt like I lost my chance.  I felt like I had failed myself.  I felt weak.  I felt completely defeated.  Looking back, I now know this is not true.  When I returned home to the US (after jet lag, reverse culture shock, and the complete depression of being back in America), I started to take back control of my life.  If I wanted to teach abroad and live outside the US, I still could.  Just because it didn't work out for me to turn my vacation into a job and future life in India didn't mean I had to give up on this new dream.  So, I applied to the overseas recruiting fair.  I interviewed at schools, and it ultimately led me to Kathmandu.  I probably wouldn't be here today if I didn't 1) decided to finally go to india and 2) have to leave.  Leaving India wasn't my choice; it was forced upon me.  And I was so angry, depressed and resentful.  Retrospectively, leaving India gave me the motivation and courage to pursue this dream and a whole new lifestyle.  When I first started the process, I really wanted to be in India.  Then, I got a note from the Director at place called Lincoln School in Kathmandu, asking for an interview.  I figured I'd go, and fell in love with the school quite instantly.  It's amazing how we can blind ourselves to the world and opportunities in it without even trying.

So, all in all, my heart is still heavy about leaving India.  Sometimes, I still wonder what my life would be like if I was still there.  I wonder what I'd be doing and who I would be if I had never left.  What would it be like to be in a place where I truly embraced the culture around me?  But, most importantly, I am grateful for the excruciating experience because it has led me to where I am now. (This seems to have been the theme of my life in 2014...)  Leaving India has led me to this beautiful and exciting journey in Kathmandu: a journey in overseas teaching, in adjustment, in regaining confidence, and in trying new things.  I am forever grateful for that.

The last thing I'd like to leave you with is a little something from my travel journal during my time in India.  I did a horrid job with journaling, but I did have a few entries.  On my second day in India, I wrote this:
There's something about this place.  I can't put my finger on it, but I love it.  I'm still adjusting, but I already know this place will have my heart.  I will always long to come back to it.  My heart and whole body will long for it.  I won't want to leave it.  Mumbai, I can't wait to see what you have in store for me.

Even today, I couldn't say it better myself.  Until next time, India.

Random Moments of the Past Week, and "The Indian Lie"

I've been feeling kind of weird the past week.  I think a small wave of homesickness hit me with Bijay's birthday this past week... and missing the MN State Fair.  I haven't been able to quite put my finger on exactly what it is that's making my mood not-so-normal, which is a bit strange for me.  I'm a pretty self-aware and reflective person, especially when it comes to my emotions.  I can generally articulate what I'm feeling and why, but I think I just need some more time to wait it out.

Other than that, I've been doing well.  I figured I'd share some highlights from the past week/weekend since I haven't posted...and a few friends and family have mentioned that they enjoy reading my thoughts on the blog.

First things first: As of last Monday, I have internet.  Stable, fast internet where I can download things.  And skype with my family and do my school work.  I'm a happy person.

Speed test on the mobile app.  Which means it's faster on my latop

A note about my internet: I am kind of confused because my speed test says it's really fast, but when David and I try to spend our entire night watching SNL skits, youtube videos, and "research" videos to decide what our youtube channel should be, it is pretty slow.  BUT, it works all the time.  This makes me happy.

 So.  Our bell system.  We don't really have one.  And by that, I mean we have a man who walks through the courtyard/around the building and rings a bell.  This means, sometimes I'm so involved in my discussions at lunch that I don't hear the warning bell and am the last one to class.  Then, my 12th graders do this to my board.  My favorite is "Ms. Froemming please come back"

When Ms. Froemming is 3 minutes late to class..

My kids are pretty fun.

Last week, I went to Thamel with some friends for dinner.  We went to Northfield Cafe (which reminded me of Minnesota :))/Jesse James Bar.  I had a quesadilla.  With Steak.  And it was about as good as it gets in Nepal in terms of anything made with cheese.  Especially a quesadilla.  And most of you know about my love for cheese and quesadillas.  AND cheese rolls.  Anyways, we got out of the cab and there was a little table with souvenirs and these Nepali flags.  I really liked it, and my cousin Tom asked me to post some pictures of Nepali flags for him to see. [TOM, this is a test to see if you're actually reading my blog!!!]  I really do love the Nepali flag.  I love that it's not rectangular like all the other flags.

Trinkets and Flags

Then, on the way home (after I bought a 4 dollar knock off Nalgene bottle that I now can't use because I realized that means it isn't BPA free), our dear friend Taxi Ram drove us home.  And I pointed out to Molly that there is a screw driver holding his seat belt in place.  Only in Nepal.

The things you see in Nepal: A screw driver holding a seat belt in place

My classroom is finally starting to come together and feel like a classroom.  I was put into the new building at school, which was so bare, and I hadn't brought much from home to decorate.  It was weird not spending so much time putting my classroom together, but it's slowly starting to look like a classroom.  I got some paper trays, and a few 9th graders spray painted them for me (there aren't any colored ones here.  Just grey). Then, I made some cute signs for each period to know which bin is for their class.  The students turn their work into the top bin, and their graded work goes on the bottom for them to pick up.

New Hand in Bins for the Classroom

This weekend was pretty glorious.  On Saturday, I unfortunately woke up at 6:30......Luckily, I was able to fall asleep again at 7 for another hour or so.  But I was still annoyed because I wanted to sleep in!  So, I decided to just stay in bed all day.  I stayed in bed until 3:30 PM watching HBO's Rome, downloading things on the internet, and doing nothing.  It was awesome.  I just laid in my bright yellow sheets, listened to the rain and the cool breeze and did nothing.  It was much needed.  Then, I hopped in the shower and went to dinner for a friend's birthday.  After that, the real adventure started.  Liverpool was playing Manchester United at 10:15, and we wanted to go out to watch the game.  In Kathmandu, we call 9 PM "Nepali Midnight" because everything closes so early.  There is a shortage of electricity here, so there are no street lights and people sleep when it gets dark.  There's a sports bar that people used to go to last year, but it closed last spring.  We walked to about 5 different restaurants, starting at about 9:45, but most claimed to be closed.  Kat and I even tried our "foreigner girl charm" and that wasn't working.  We ended up at 8 Degrees, a fine dining place, where the owner left around 10:25, but said the bartender would stay until we wanted to leave.  They close at 10, but they stayed open so we could watch the game.  We sat at the bar and watched together with the whole place to ourselves.  It was a fun time, and I enjoyed watching the game with friends...even if one is a MANU fan.  It seems I cannot escape them :)

Watching the match with friends

On Sunday, I went into Sanepa for breakfast with David and another colleague, which was fun.  Then, Stupi took me back to the glasses place to get my glasses fixed because the old lenses were making everything look hilly.  A few hours later-after seeing the eye doctor, who told me I don't have astigmatism (which I do), and trying a few different lenses- they figured out the problem.  They hadn't measured where the center of my eye is, so the lenses weren't centered properly.  Apparently this is not common practice in Nepal, unless recommended by the doctor.  So, now I have lenses that don't look hilly, but they took the axis out of the lens (which helps with my astigmatism), so they give me a headache.  So, back to the eye clinic for a third time sometime soon.

This seems to be the theme of my life in Nepal: doing everything by trial and error, multiple times, even when I tell people there's a problem.  My internet, my glasses.  Things really are different here.  The way people approach issues, tasks, and problems is different.  In America, it's expected that the problem is named as soon as possible, and solved.  In Nepal (and I noticed this, too, when I was in India) it is not always this way.  When I first told them that the lenses were hilly and incorrect, their response was "That is okay.  Try for a few days.  Your eyes will adjust."  When I told a jeweller that I had my nose pierced before with a needle and wanted it re-pierced, but not with the gun, he told me "Needle bad.  Infection."  Even though I told him I had it done before, he insisted.   When I would call about my internet not working, I was told "It is not from our side.  Everything fine." Things take longer: conversations, problem solving, customer service.  Problems aren't necessarily identified (for example, my past MONTH with no internet) and everything is always "try it and come back" (like with the glasses).  It seems as if the thinking is that ignoring the problem and not acknowledging that it exists will make it go away on its own.  It's frustrating and draining.  But, that's life here.

I named another similar phenomena when I was in India.  I called it the "Indian Lie".  This is when someone tells you something is true, even when it's not.  It's not that they're trying to lie or be dishonest.  But when they occur something they're unsure about, it's almost as if they cannot comprehend it or admit it, so they make something up.  They make up whatever may be their truth, but it is often incorrect.  In fact, they think they're telling the truth.  When you ask someone where something is or how to do something and they don't know, they tell you what they think might be true.  They don't say "I don't know" or tell you about their experience.  Things that aren't true become truth.  At the end of my trip to India last year, I started calling my Indian friends out when they were making stuff up.  It's funny because they don't even realize it, and they're so convinced it's true that they don't even realize they're incorrect.  It's almost like because they said it's true it simply is.

It is funny and ironic that I am in a culture that this is true, because my mom and I always joke that in our family, we don't say "I don't know".  If there is some sort of question we have, we come up with a theory.  We (usually) present it as a theory or an idea, but not as an absolute.  In the past year, my mom and I have been joking about how we do this so much.  In fact, last year, I asked my extremely smart friend Nat (who is extremely interested in science and nature) some question about science.  He didn't know the answer and replied "I don't know, Chelsea."  I remember thinking to myself, what do you mean you don't know?  You don't have some sort of idea?  A theory in your head? I still laugh about this story with my mom and Nat, because it epitomizes our personalties.  Now, I find my place in a country and culture that makes theories and gives them to the extreme.  This must be my karma :)

Exiting the Honeymoon Stage

We've all experienced it at one time or another: The Honeymoon Stage.  Perhaps, different times in our lives, or in different situations, or about different people, places, or things, but we have all felt it; the complete infatuation, the eyes that can't stop taking in the surroundings-the sights, the sounds, the smells- believing that nothing could possibly be better.  I'm perhaps a little to overly familiar with this feeling.  I'm an intense person and I love completely. Whether it be a person, a place, a food, or an activity, I love it with everything I have. My experience in Kathmandu has been no different.  I have been exuding my love for this city and my school.  Call me jaded, or maybe it's realism, but I knew this feeling would wear off.

I felt it happen last week, much sooner than I expected, and it had me thinking about a lot of things.  In all honesty, I think it's one particular situation that has really intensified and quickened my exit of the honeymoon stage.  I have been here for over a month, and I still don't have internet at home.  The first two weeks I was without because the company didn't have the routers and was waiting for them to come in.  Then, when I got the router installed at home, it has been having consistent problems.  Saying I have NO internet is false, but it usually only works for about an hour or two when I get home from school (on days when the internet company would come to "fix" it), and then stops working.  It eventually comes back on, but at a speed so slow, webpages won't even load.  They time out before anything can load.  This seems silly and stupid.  It feels like this is not something that should make me love this country any less.  But it has interfered with my life in a stressful way.  Since it's my first year at this school, I am planning MANY things as I go.  I make an outline for the week and prep a few classes each day.  But when the internet goes out unexpectedly, I can't work on my school work.  We have a rotating schedule, which means my schedule is different every day, and there are days when I have NO prep time at school.

I hit my breaking point a week and a half ago when my it was a night before a FULL day of teaching with no breaks, and I had no internet.  I had to plan and and make materials for 5 classes.  I honestly didn't know what to do.  I was so frustrated and panicked at the idea of not being able to get ready everything ready for the next day.  I ended up going to my neighbors/colleagues' house to work.  I called the principal to explain my frustration, and she was so understanding, and has been such an advocate for me in this situation.  (I'm so thankful for her and her genuine interest in our well-being).  Since then, it's been a whirlwind of finding a new provider, seeing when they can come on a day when I'll be able to get home, finding a temporary internet solution, and trying to cancel my internet with the cold company (Maybe a dedicated post on why this company sucks at a later date?)

This seems so trivial and silly, but it really hinders and impacts my ability to do my job, which is, after all, why I moved her in the first place.  It's really my first priority, especially in this entire situation.  Not only does this affect my professional life, but it's really my connection to the world, and home.  It's been a while since I skyped or FaceTimed home.  I can call with the 3G on my phone, but it's slow and choppy, and I spend most of the time with a frozen image of my mom, both of saying "WHAT? I couldn't hear you...You're breaking up....you're choppy", which is more frustrating than comforting.  Basic things that we do on the internet-check email and social media, read articles, or listen to music- have been impossible to me.  Coming home for the past few weeks has not been comforting or relaxing.  I come home feeling tensed and frustrated, wondering if I'll be able to do my school work or call home.

This situation has had me thinking about many things lately.  I have been reflecting a lot about my internet use and how reliant I am.  I know part of it is unavoidable, especially being far away from him in a place with less resources and things I am used to, but I think this experience has shown me that I do need to unplug a little bit, which I have always known, but never needed to.  I've also spent a lot of time thinking about being adaptable.  I think largely, I kind of knew what I was getting myself into here in Nepal.  My time in India cushioned my landing well-I had almost no culture shock, I had used an Indian style shower, I had experienced  the electricity shortage, and I even used the Bhat Bhateni (no toilet, not even a JET SPRAYER bathroom with no soap and only a bucket in my first few days in Nepal)-but I'm learning that just because I am not in culture shock doesn't mean I don't have to adjust.  I am going to have adjust a lot of things about my life here.  I'm lucky to live a privileged life in Nepal, but I do have to adjust.  It's frustrating and hard, but I chose it, and I knew I would have to adjust.  I live in Kathmandu, which is still very developing, and I have to shift to fit into this new place.  There will be many adjustments to come, and I need to find ways to be better at it.

Another thing I've been thinking about is balance.  Balance is something I have always struggled with, and for many reasons in life.  Especially as a teacher, I have struggled with the work/home balance and taking time for myself to do what makes me happy.  As teachers, we often have to put so much time and effort into our work each day...and we are so dedicated to what we do that we forget to take care of ourselves.  We need to recharge.  I'm a work hard, play hard kind of person, but I definitely need to work harder to focus on taking care of my emotional well-being.  I can tell that here, it is going to be even more important because the boundary between school and work is even more blurred.  I'm friends with people from school; they're most of the people I know.  We hang out on the weekends.  We talk school and life and fun all the time.  So to get a true break from work, I have to really do something different.  This is a strange realization, especially since I love my school and my colleagues, but I'm glad that I've realized this sooner than later; I'm glad I have realized this before I already need a serious break.  And there is so much to see and do here, that I will have no trouble finding something to do to give myself a break from school.  There are so many temples and places to see.  I have so much to explore, and I'm truly excited for it.  I know I've gotten better at balance by learning to advocate for myself (calling the principal to start getting things handled at a higher level) and trying to put things in perspective.

This post, for me, has been extremely cathartic and something I think I have needed put down on paper.  This doesn't mean I love my school or this city and it's people any less. I still love them very much.  But now I love them in a more realistic way, where I don't overlook every frustration or flaw.  It's natural, and it happens, and I expected it.  I was hoping to make it until October in the honeymoon stage....but that's okay.  I'm still in a great place with great people, and things to explore.  And some day, when I'm not so heated, these are all going to make really great stories.