a day in the life

though i have been living and teaching in mussoorie, india-- situated in the foothills of the himalayan mountains-- for over a month, the novelty has yet to subside. i often awake to pouring rain or scurrying monkeys drumming on the roof of my apartment, ironically dubbed king’s chambers. while not the poshest dwelling, king’s chambers boasts a porch with a breath-taking view from which i love to drink my morning coffee, a bread man who awakens me every monday with freshly-baked loaves of cinnamon bread and a menagerie of stray cats, monkeys and spiders.

woodstock campus is situated 500 feet down the mountain from my humble abode. clouds roll into the classrooms of my eleventh grade ap microeconomics students and twelfth grade ap american history kids. when the dreariness of monsoon seeps into their brains, i teach them 1990’s dance moves in between conversations about the elasticity of demand and debates regarding rent control, the party stances of federalists and democratic republicans or the concept of “who is an american?” the radiance of my host teacher, shonila—a strong-hearted indian woman from punjab who has been teaching for over 25 years—and her flowing saris, brilliant gray hair and maternal nature is another aspect of woodstock that never grows old. the word on the street is that, “ms. humm makes us work really hard, but it’s okay, because class is actually really cool.” and, let’s be honest, when i spend 3-5 hours writing some lessons, it had better be cool.

mussoorie itself is known as a favorite indian honeymoon destination for its quaintness and location above the sweltering heat of the plains. one of my favorite things to do in mussoorie is run errands. though it may sound mundane, it is just the opposite. a quick trip (which actually equates to 45 minutes because nothing is really quick in india) to the market can lead to hours spent chatting with the local merchants and townspeople. the tailor, who reportedly says the best part of his job is talking to people while the worst part is that, “sometimes he has to make clothes,” often offers me a cup of tea during our chats about mussoorie, india, cars, america and music. the man from who i buy kitchen supplies (tea pot, breadbox and the like) inherited his store from his father, who now owns the convenience store across the street.

mussoorie consists of multiple bazaar areas, one of which is the home to the healthiest (and likely holiest) cow i’ve ever seen. local merchants feed the cow as she roams during the day while she smartly sleeps in a bus stand each night. the upper bazaar is punctuated by the honking horns of cars and motorcycles trying to squeeze through too-tight spaces, sometimes with just one or two inches of leeway. the lower bazaar, a pedestrian walkway, is home to the tastiest indian food in town. best dish: chicken kedai (tomato-based curry with green peppers and onions) from four seasons with a fresh sweet lime soda to refresh your palate. the bengali sweet shop is a great after dinner stop. best indulgence: gulabjamin, donut-hole-like sweets bathed in sugary goose. if you are in town long enough you will surely hear one of the five daily calls to prayer from the mosque located on one of the side streets.

evening runs are another highlight of my life at woodstock. last night i went for a sunset run on the shucker, a road that circles two mountains about 500 feet above king’s chambers. during my jaunt, i was called out of my state of almost-meditative-relaxation by calls of, “hello! hello!” i looked up to see two boys scurrying down from their house toward the road to join me on my run. we jogged together for about two blocks, just enough time to share names, ages and giggles. other than my two new little friends, i typically share the road with families of rhesus (small, brown devils) and longher (large and graceful) monkeys, groups of men smoking cigarettes and seemingly-gossiping women in colorful, flowing saris out for afternoon strolls, kids riding bikes in school uniforms and bell-clad cows loping about. on clear evenings, the snowy himalayan peaks are visible from the tree-lined shucker. yesterday as the blazing red sun faded beneath the horizon a brilliant orange streak across the horizon remained, punctuated by an immediate line of near-blackness; leaving the impression that the world dropped off into oblivion like the sea fading into the distance.

the day i found out i was student teaching in india, i received a fortune cookie with the following, “travel to appease your restlessness.” i feel i have done just that.