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Went to Haridwar and Rishikesh the next weekend.
They’re the first two towns/small cities on the Ganges
after it first flows into the plains from the
Himalayas, they’re about 6 hours north of Delhi.

Haridwar was ridiculously hot in the day, but the
evening was perfect. The Ganges was big and cool and
all around wonderful. They have a ceremony every
night, and even though it was every night it still
felt really special. People were chanting and lighting
fires in bowls of flowers as offerings and sending
them down the river. It felt magical.

Rishikesh (where the Beatles went when they were in
India, by the way) was sunny with a strong breeze that
made crossing the truly massive foot bridge an
adventure. I saw more white people there than anywhere
else so far. Nice town.

Work is really good. There are good days and bad days,
of course. There are times I want to scream and throw
the kids out the window, and the noise level can be
painful. Sometimes it seems like all I hear while I’m
there is Didi! Didi! Didi! (older sister). It’s funny,
everybody goes on about how the language barrier
doesn’t really matter, that when they’re just little
kids it doesn’t matter if you speak their language,
because they barely speak it themselves at that point.
I have to say I disagree. When they’re 3-6 or so, they
do very much speak their own language. In the
beginning in particular it would have been really nice
to be able to talk to them. For instance, when they’re
beating the crap out of each other, which they do
fairly frequently, it would be nice to be able to tell
them to stop, because just saying nay, nay, nay (no)
does nothing. They just laugh and proceed to ignore
you. And if you try to physically pull them apart you
usually get a similar response. But now, after a few
weeks, the language barrier really doesn’t matter
much. I have enough of a relationship with the kids
that we communicate just fine in our own way.
Tickling, for instance, needs to words.

These kids can be infuriating, but they’re also
unbelievably sweet. They climb all over us (Hannah,
the other volunteer there, and I) and chatter
excitedly in Hindi and we mostly just nod and smile
and say Ocha (good) a lot. Teaching them little games
like thumb war and high five, low five, middle five-
too slow! Makes for lots of fun. I taught one of the
older kids (11-16 who help out/study/hang out around
the center a lot) rock paper scissors yesterday, and
he proceeded to help me teach the younger ones, now
that was a big hit. The hokey pokey was also a big
hit, although it can be a riot starter because they’ll
all crowd around me in what starts out as a vaguely
circular shape but half the time will deteriorate into
something that resembles a mosh pit more than anything
else. Who can shake their arm, head, etc, harder and
be as close to Didi as possible. Needless to say there
are endless collisions. There’s also endless giggling
and squeals of delight.

I’ve established relationships with some of the
teachers, one of whom I want to marry. She actually
does things with the kids, and they actually listen to
her. Plus she’s just really sweet. Another teacher
gives me chai every morning, which is damn good. In
short, there are challenges, of course, but on the
whole it’s very good.

My health is also good, I had a cold for a while, and
had a day or two of fever and blah, but everybody has
those days, in fact, I’m doing well, considering.
It’s westerners immune system v. Delhi’s dust and
pollution (and water, etc..), and after a week or so
the dust and pollution usually win. I’ve acclimated to
a lot of things, I can brush my teeth using the tap
water for instance. But nonetheless, when you’re
shitting solids it’s always something to be thankful
for.

“India is yoga.” – Leif R. Montin (a man we met and
had lunch with at a restaurant in Haridwar) “Yoga
teaches you patience and to keep an open mind, and
India certainly teaches you that.”

India hasn’t changed me so much as elaborated on an
idea that’s been there all along.