There's no place like Himahal

As soon as I got off the plane in Dharamshala I knew this was where I wanted to be after the sweltering humidity of south India and the crowds of Rajasthan. Felt like maybe 20 different Everests surrounded me on that runway and the heat was just like Vancouver in the summer! It even smelt like home, what more could I ask for?

Met Ranelle and Mel at Bobby, my host's, lovely house cum castle. We later found out that the nine families surrounding him were all close relations. Imagine a Meet The Parents here!! Bobby had two kids that ran pantsless around the house hourly and a beautiful Kashmiri wife who was learning English so smiles would have to do.

In that first week began the toughest challenge of my life. Not only had I no experience teaching in the slightest but my oldest students were nearly 4 years older than myself. Of course I told them I was 25 with a baby face and not to poke fun. Inside, I was shaking.

You remember how at school there are those that glue their eyes to the teacher in absolute focus? Yeah, this school never got those blessed children. After jumping over their words to say good morning (along with a military salute sometimes which I heartily encouraged) I was pounced upon like a pile of gold, very nervous gold. After perhaps three days though, I remember strutting into that room, chucking my books to the side and telling the 22 year olds to shut it like a pro. Notice the word like. Teaching is all a big game! You have to walk in that door like you ARE the swinging dick in town and know it...or they will easily forget.

I scratched the books very quickly and decided to go from memory and far too many hours of research with Popa in the local internet cafe, 30 minutes away. Days consisted of breakfast with the girls, then Karan when he came, then the next Mel when she arrived from North Vancouver. Had either Indian Prantha (chapathis filled with potatoe) or marmite on toast when I missed London. Ambled through my proudly found wooded path, not a soul in sight, up the brambly hill to Gayan Deep school. The view on the way: a brightly coloured two storey building with the Himalayan backdrop drenched in sun. Rubbish.

Weekends were times to explore the area. First Mel, Ranelle and I took 3 different buses to land ourselves in McLeod Ganj, a prime Raj retreat and now home of the Dalai Lama and Tibetan government in exile. Happened to actually bump into an aussie girl, Sophie, who I had met in the deep south now working with the congress there for Tibetan rights. Se-ren-di-pi-ty!

Ranelle, songwriter and musician bought a guitar for future volunteers to use with the kids and Mel, many a sari I promised she'd never use at home...I was wrong apparently :S
After fly-by weeks, the girls left and Karan, an British-born Indian came to help brush up my Hindi and yell at kids. Great guy but like me, found the munchkins are bloody handful. I think he left wanting more though. We squeezed in a weekend in Amritsar which became one of my most favourite of all Indian holy places for many an awesome reason. But that story, is for another time.