here comes the sun

in 26 hours i switch vocations from teacher to professional traveler. my red pen is currently making its last round through world history tests, the gentle hum and (when the answers are incorrect) the machine gun pop of the scan tron (yes, part of my world history final was a scan tron… the guilt is tearing me apart) is fading out of my memory. burning the midnight oil and grading papers in bed are becoming figments in my mind. tomorrow i begin a (nearly) two-month journey highlighted by my most beloved people in some of my favorite places.

this wednesday i go from dehli to chicago to obtain an indian work visa (yes, i need to come all the way back to the united states for a piece of paper. but i figure i can pick up a hamburger, burrito and glass of wine on the way). then this friday i return to minnesota for a two-week stint in the land of 10,000 lakes filled with fellowship, heated homes, hot showers, wine, blue mondays (!) and delicious food. i depart to meet isaac and ashlee in bangkok on 23 december to catch our flight to cambodia on 25 december. following christmas and new year’s khmer-style, i return to thailand to meet robyn topic-humm (her full name adds a certain pizzazz). my mom and i will spend a week in chiang mai, arguably my third or fourth home (after northfield, perham and shakopee and maybe mussoorie, too), with my host family and some woodstock friends. after a week in the mountains, we fly to phuket for a week in the sun. on 18 january i leave thailand and return to india to meet dave in dehli on the 19th.

i just finished grading and feel the urge to rip off my shirt like brandi chastain after she kicked the championship goal in the 1999 world cup match and run around the teacher’s lounge in a victory lap, hi-fiving anyone i see. however, something tells me that if i did that, i wouldn’t need a work visa anymore, if you catch my drift. i'm not saying that i don't love teaching. but if i see one more stack of papers... i guess this picture sums up the true elation in my soul. i might combust. sun, sun, sun here it comes.

relax your large and small intestines...

k. ravishnankar, the yoga guru, has the answer for every ailment. shoving your thumbs into your armpits for five minutes right after you wake up will prevent your nose from running all day. if your left nostril is running, you should pinch the joint in your thumb for two minutes. drinking warm milk and honey puts you to sleep and breathing through alternating nostrils is rejuvinating.

i have been doing yoga for about the past month and am coming to love its demanding focus and cleansing abilities. following two hours of intense stretching and strengthening exercises, ravi leads us in a relaxation exercise which always reminds me of the magic school bus (you know, where they go into the blood stream in the bus...). he journeys through the periphery and inside of our bodies and asks us to relax each our body parts and organs. his voice alternates between a slow, monotone "relax your brain" to a fast, high "relax your brain cells." the hilarity of it all is typically a barrier to my relaxation, especially when he invites us to relax our smallandlargeintestines (you can guess that the intestines fall in the high, quick register). i don't think i'll be levitating off of the ground or curing my ailments via deep yogic breathing anytime soon. but i can't say that i don't love having a yoga master. apparently he is going to post some class pictures on his website. so check back for some sun salutation, utthita trikonasana (extended triangle pose) pictures of my friends and i as we struggly toward yogic enlightenment.

pockets as big as the universe

visiting my temple yesterday afternoon with green leaves and mountain snows
i had a moment of inspiration. i could make a lessons-and-carols-like service. (this thought was largely derived from the "nine lessons and carols service" at woodstock on sunday). except, (obviously) instead of readings from the bible and hymns, i would compose my own sources of inspiration. always compelled by a new project (especially during finals week), i embark on the lessons and carols (subtitled: profound thoughts and inspiring lyrics)…


last night i searched on the internet for soul sustenance. bored of students’ papers, i browsed the aisles of barnesandnoble.com. imagining a caramel latte in my hand. i tried to find the excerpt from extremely loud and incredibly close that i had been yearning for. however, the website only tormented me with the first four pages. a late night email sent to a student brought the book, by delivery, to my classroom.

so, today during the fire drill, i walked out of school and kept walking. away from grades, essays, writing student comments, composing tests. away from everything. and after about ½ an hour of searching, i found what i was looking for.

an ambulance drove down the street between us, and i imagined who it was carrying, and what had happened to him. did he break an ankle attempting a hard trick on his skateboard? or maybe he was dying from third-degree burns on ninety percent of his body? was there any chance i knew him? did anyone see the ambulance and wonder if it was me inside?
what about a device that knew everyone you knew? so when an ambulance went down the street, a big sign on the roof could flash

DON’T WORRY! DON’T WORRY!

if the sick person’s device didn’t detect the device of someone he knew nearby. and if the device did detect the device of someone he knew, the ambulance could flash the name of the person in the ambulance, and either

IT’S NOTHING MAJOR! IT’S NOTHING MAJOR!

and maybe you could rate the people you knew by how much you loved then, so the device of the person in the ambulance detected the device of the person he loved the most, or the person who loved him the most, and the person in the ambulance was really badly hurt, and might even die, the ambulance could flash

GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU! GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU!

one thing that’s nice to think about is someone who was the first person on lots of people’s lists, so that when he was dying, and his ambulance went down the street to the hospital, the whole time it would flash

GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU! GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU!

…we need much bigger pockets, i thought as i lay in bed, counting off the seven minutes it takes a normal person to fall asleep. we need enormous pockets, pockets big enough for our families, and our friends, and even the people who aren’t on our lists, people we’ve never met but still want to protect. we need pockets for boroughs and for cities, a pocket that could hold the universe (foer, 72-74).

sometimes i am perplexed by how far apart I am from the ones i love. that i don’t know if something monumentally good or bad happened to you at 7:54 am or if you are happy or sad. but then i am comforted because when you love someone, you give a little part of yourself (or, i guess, a big part) to them. and then you are with them forever, in their gigantic pockets, everywhere they go. and that’s what love is. oh, i love being la la lovey-dovey.

i was looking for a melissa ethridge song that many of you have on cds from the summer 2004 era, but i found this instead. it’s like when you’re looking for a specific quote to go into a paper and then you find one that matches better…

willie nelson “everywhere i go”

i’ll take you with me everywhere i go
i’ll put you in my pocket who will know?
right next to my heart at every show
i’ll take you with me everywhere i go...

no matter where our trails will finally wind
our paths will just keep crossing yours and mine
until then and in my pocket you must go
i’ll take you with me everywhere i go
until then in my pocket you must go
i’ll take you with me everywhere i go

mr. and ms. blume (subtitled: c & c music factory)

last week one of my favorite short people at woodstock, kushi, the six-year old hand-tatoo artist, came running up to me yelling, “hi ms. blume!” the sentiment was repeated when cole and i were shopping at a local handicrafts store and the owner asked, “cole, are you and courtney special friends?” while obviously not my husband, cole and i shared the special bond of person-you-go-home-to-and-vent-about-student-teaching with while gorging ourselves on hostess cupcakes, pringles or whatever else came within our reach.

when you go to a foreign country with someone for 3 ½ months, you come to know their intricacies as well as you know your own. the meaning of little glances, awkward cricket chirps, inside jokes and even stomach grumbles (this is india, after all). and having someone to coach you when you’re killing a gigantic spider, fighting off monkey invasions, nearing seemingly imminent death on indian roadways, spending an exorbitant amount of money on a red wooden ganesh statue or sitting through a painfully long staff meeting makes the bond even more unique.
this ode is not inspired by death or bodily harm (thank god), but rather departure. following a magnificent re-creation of the st. olaf christmasfest (on a smaller, woodstock-sized scale) cole departed from this beloved hill. cole’s departure makes the reality that i am a full-time teacher even more palpable. i don’t know what i will miss most about my husband, wasting time watching music videos in the staff lounge, discussing teaching practices over french toast or knowing the phone call in the high school workroom around 10 p.m. is the signal that work in the music building has come to a screeching halt, and “are you ready to jetset to king’s chambers?” so, out of an urgency for nostalgia, i include this beautiful woodstock sunset (featuring the mysterious-looking winterline, drawing the boundary between the hot plains and the chilly mountains) and a small photo montage of my time as ms. blume. i now must return to the ms. humm who must read 45 more papers before night's end and is currently procrastinating by writing blogs and internet window shopping.

motorcycle diaries (subtitled: sweet home alabama)

last weekend my friends and i re-instituted weekend travel excursions with a bang. we chose to visit rishikesh, a lovely city on the ganga with a large following of counter-culture tourists and delicious israeli food. the five of us almost cried when we took our first bite of falafel and greek salad (however, those tasty greens could have impelled the "oregon trail" entry found below) at our quaint hotel. for sunset we rode down to the river on brian and ethan's motorcycles (brian, cole and jamie packed on one bike) and watched the sun fall behind the rocky coast. we noticed a boat driving by and brian and i scurried to the water to signal the driver over. a sunset cruise on the ganga reminded me of the many sunset cruises on big pine lake, except this particular boatride included wake jumping and tight circle turns. we felt like little kids at a carnival, yelping in delight as the driver maneuvered the boat over another wave.

we spent the rest of the night sitting by a campfire with some international hippies, singing "sweet home alabama" (among other songs) with two accompanying guitars at a beachside campfire, eating in the dark after a power outage at a restaraunt on the banks of the river and relaxing in our hotel's courtyard.

we awoke on sunday monring to a particularily sunny day. according to my favorite sunday morning custom-- spending a few hours drinking coffee and relaxing (preferably with those i love) at blue monday-- i had already scoped out my rishikesh sunday morning cafe. i chose the particular spot partially because of its location on the banks of the river and open-air seating and partially because of its german bakery. this bit of peace proved a stark contrast to the colossal adventure home to mussoorie.

sometimes our lives make us feel particularly mortal. lucky to be alive, if you will. moments like these might even impel you to kiss the ground to celebrate a safe arrival. last night, on the way home from rishikesh, a city on the ganga approximately 3 hours away from mussoorie, my friends and i shared a group hug upon arrival at the woodstock front gate. we left rishikesh at about 2 and met a parade and a few traffic jams. riding a motorcycle is an amazing experience because bike passengers lack the options of the bus or car rider, forcing constant presence in the moment. during a particularily hairy tunnel, brian and i popped up the front wheel of our bike, went a bit out of control and both fell off the bike. however, this slow motion first-accident in my life was nothing compared to the trek up the mountain.

following a delicious pizza dinner in dehra dun, we approached the foothills of mussoorie. the sun set over the dehra dun cityscape and brian commented, "the lonely planet says you should never drive a motorcycle at night." a sidenote: for those of you who don't know, i deem the lonely planet the ultimate authority and often refer to it as "the bible." little did we know the experiential learning to come. as the sky darkened, the oncoming traffic evolved from cars and buses to blinding lights and honking horns careening around the curvy mountain road. the hopeful lights of mussoorie occassionally came into view, "so close but oh so far away," brian would sigh each time. on a few occassions buses would blind brian as we would around a corner and i would hold my breath, hoping the bus was not even a few inches over the center line. on at least two occassions i was sure that the bus was going to either a) detatch our legs or b) force us over the side of the mountain. nearer to mussoorie the road became sprinkled with cows and, at one juncture, a donkey herd. when we finally reached mulungar hill at the top of the mussoorie bazaar, brian let out an "oh yeah, all right" (reminiscent of approximately 86% of cake songs) and we thanked god, buddha, ganesh, the world, that we were alive.

oregon trail (subtitled: courtney has dysentery, lose two days)

i am sure that most of you, being children of the nineties, remember oregon trail fondly. the shining green screens of the old macintosh computers, caulking the wagon to float across the river because $5 seemed exorbadant for the ferry, continual hunting adventures and of course, disease. yes, my friends, that's right. i have dysentery. i didn't even know that you could still get dysentery, as it is no longer the 1800s and i am not navigating rivers on a westward journey or living in an overpopulated london suburb. the moral of the story is simple. never, under any circumstances, brush your teeth with tap water. the true irony is that we are talking about oregon trail in history class tomorrow. here's to the personal connection to history.

holes to heaven

multiple times during my time in india i have thought of the jack johnson song "holes to heaven." however, the lyrics have never rung more true than during my activity week trip to a village when i saw the most radiant stars in my life. activity week is a delightful week at the end of first quarter dedicated to experiential learning. the diversity in trips is immense—spanning from studying cricket in bombay or learning indian dance in gujarat to volunteering for habitat for humanity outside of dehli. i spent my week living in the village of dwargarh with 15 ninth graders. during our stay we worked on the construction of a k-5 school and camped on a mountainside terrace. watching the sun rise above one mountain and set behind another gave me a sense of security and connection to nature that i’ve never before experienced.

dwargarh is a 2-hour bus ride and a 2 to 3-hour hike away from mussoorie and is situated about 1,000 feet above the nearest village, garkhett. we arrived in garkhett, collected our backpacks and tents off of the truck and began the 1,000 foot ascent to our campsite. it’s one thing hiking up a steep, rocky road with a pack. and it is quite another to motivate 15 ninth graders up the mountain. sweating and dusty, we approached the village gate and were welcomed by a gathering of villagers and the beauty of the built-into-the-mountain community. homes, lined with drying corn cobs and faces poking out windows, children playing cricket barefoot in a vacant field (likely in-between harvests), villagers pounding grain with giant logs, a temple poking up to create a skyline against the mountainous backdrop. two students and i wound through the narrow village streets, making our way to the campsite. as we traveled, a parade of children and adults grew behind us. at our campsite, we assembled tents with a crowd of 50 villagers looking on. when i finished assembling my tent, i took a picture of the cluster of people gathered around us. the children squealed with excitement and the adults shook my hand when they saw their images on my camera. villagers asked me to take their photos throughout my time in the village, including one woman who said she had never seen a picture of herself before.

we spent the week eating delicious village food (prepared in a small kitchen on our campsite) including, roti (bread) and various varieties of dal (spiced lentils in a curry), working on the construction of the school and learning about local handicrafts, farming techniques and culture. we approached our construction site the first day to find a classful of students and a teacher with a mobile chalkboard assembled on a rooftop, seemingly waiting for the completion of their new school. our assignment was to haul rocks and dirt away from the newly-constructed building via potato sacks slung between bamboo sticks and tin pans. a group of women, on a trip to the nearby well, assembled to watch (as one student referred to it) “laugh tv.” you see, woodstock students, used to comfortable lives, generally removed from the normal realities of india, are not the most efficient day laborers. in a five minute span, david hit vinay on the back with a pickax and rithambra dropped a load of rocks onto jagrato’s foot as our audience howled with laughter. eventually, one of the women, tired of giggling at us and fed up with our incompetence, jumped down from the ledge and began demonstrating the art of the pick ax.

on our day off from construction, the villagers led us to a hindu temple on top of a nearby peak. as i stepped over the crest of the mountain, i lost my breath and exclaimed, “the snows!” the kids, unimpressed with the commonplace sight of the himalayan mountains, tried to humor my giddy awe. after visiting the temple, our group enjoyed a picnic lunch under the snowy peaks.

most evenings after the sun went down we went to the town square (located at the foot of the temple) for the village dance party (well, it could be called that). during the day, chillies, corn and grains dry in the sun-drenched town square. however, at night the whole village (70 families) pour out to fill the square with music and dancing. lights hanging from the eaves of nearby homes illuminate the musicians and dancers. it’s amazing that men and women who rise before the sun (so they can be in the fields as the day breaks) have the energy to dance until 10-11 at night. the villagers, excited to host such a large group of guests, patiently taught us their dances (essentially all derivations of circular, choreographed stepping with linked hands) as we trod on their bare feet with our heavy shoes. local men played the drums and horn, owned by the village council. the male and female dancers accompanied the instruments with call-and-response singing. dancing with the villagers, giggling together as i messed up the steps and feeling the intermingling delight of my students, experiencing a new culture for the first time, and the villagers, sharing their valued dances with us, made our nighttime village festivities the highlight of my stay.

on the final night of our trip, the students prepared a bollywood dance for the villagers to perform during our nightly dance party. the villagers then acted out part of mahararat for us that is typically only performed in honor of diwali. mahararat is a hindu epic and the villagers believe they are descendants from some of the gods epitomized in the story. the actors and actresses begin the ritual by performing dances to depict the gods. during the course of the dance, the spirits of the gods are believed to possess the performers. the villagers chosen by the spirits are revered within the community, though they do not remember their actions when under the power of the gods’ spirits. one woman was carried away by four men after she collapsed to the ground and a man convulsed on stage. while some of the kids were a bit frightened by the performance, it was incredible for the villagers to share something with us that outsiders rarely see.

this is a picture of our village from an adjacent mountainside. our camsite is signified by the colorful dots-- our tents-- (on the right) above the village buildings.

close to home (subtitled: one chocolate-banana pancake, two forks)

one of my favorite parts of living in a new place is establishing myself as a "regular" at different establishments. the tailor, chardukan tea shoppe, the tavern (the site of this birthday party photo), ram chander grocer, to name a few in mussoorie. cole and i knew we had successfully become regulars at chardukan this sunday morning when we ordered our usual (2 bun omlettes and 1 chocolate-banana pancake to split) and the pancake arrived (for the first time) with two forks. two forks might not mean much to you, but it said to us that our friends at the tea shoppe know that we share our delicious pancake (complete with melted chocolate pieces on top).


while i traveled extensively during september and parts of october, the true weight of teaching has recently curtailed my once-weekly jaunts around india. however, staying close to home has had much to offer, including video arcade motorcycle rallies, celebrations of guy faukes day (completed by diwali fireworks and a campfire) and big feasts of indian food at our favorite restaraunts (picture the goodness of chapati's for about a fourth of the price. the woodstock staff discount is a wonderous thing).

happy valley, which lives up to its name, is a tibetan community near mussoorie. cole, andy, jen (two oles visiting from the "biology in south india" program) and i set out this saturday morning only to be greeted by the himalayan snows and friendly faces at each turn. while i became a bit carried away with pictures, the beauty of the snowy peaks and thousands of prayer flags overwhelmed me. "the snows" actually just became a part of the scenery following the end of monsoon a few weeks ago. however, one of my favorite photos is that of one of workers at the buddhist temple and i. go vikes. following our trip to the temple, we basked in the wonder that is tibetan cuisine at a nearby restaraunt. cole and i even experienced beef (in the form of steamed momos-- similar to chinese dumplings) for the first time in two-and-a-half months. sidenote: the reason cows are not eaten in hindu culture is because they are venerated as the most productive and giving animal-- like the mother to all humans. but, level with me here, how would they not be even more productive to use as plows, a milk source and as food? while this might not be the most culturally-sensitive moment of my life, i justify the rhetoric with the yearning for a cheeseburger. stupid american.

the day the music died

on my way to school this morning, listening to "all these things that i know," my beloved iPod breathed her last. i tried resusitating her for five minutes to no avail. so i write to celebrate the pure goodness of the palm-sized friend who has accompanied me to three continents, seven countries and down countless country roads. 7 november 2005 will forever live on as the day the music died.

fit for a king

not many homes provide a stellar view of the sun rising over the himalayan foothills, a perfect vantage for monkey-viewing and an arena to rid oneself of a deep-seated fear of spiders. a cozy single room filled with music (remember, simon and garfunkel define home as “where your music’s playing”), the wonderful smells of my cooking (which reaches the extent of pasta, ramen and french toast), and the quick pattering of mice feet in the ceiling, king’s chambers truly is fit for a king. or queen.

a few mornings ago i drank my coffee as i watched about 8 monkeys fighting over a loaf of bread on the roof top below my porch. i felt like i was at the zoo as i watched a mama carrying her baby on her chest, teenage monkeys swinging acrobatically from the roof to the porch below and the true power of the giant alpha male, forcing the poor peons to allow him to feast on the loaf of bread and then allowing one of his concubines pick the lice off of his fur as he lounged in the sun. above is a photo of a monkey playing with my water bottles as i cooked at my stove. while the monkeys have been known to interrupt my favorite activity—porch sitting—by stealing my breakfast off of the plate i feel lucky to live in a himalayan-style zoo.

the other most common animal in the zoo during the monsoon season was, as many of you have heard, the plate-sized spider. to construct an analogy, snakes are to indiana jones as spiders are to courtney humm. living amongst the great beasts during the monsoon forced me to turn fear into rage as i annihilated spiders with my weapon of choice—a broom. this is me on one of my first spider-killing adventures, accompanied by the fearless cole blume, who wrote in a blog entry that i “vanquished [my] enemy with a vengeance" (coleblume.blogspot.com). however, i was happy to put aside my spider-hunting days when the monsoon, and thus the spider season, ended.