...what have I forgotten?

I write today’s post amid the smell of freshly ground coffee keeping warm from the fridge-like temperatures outside by sitting beside the stove in my parents coffee shop. We had bacon, scrambled eggs, freshly baked bread and real tea for breakfast. Last night after getting in at what felt like half past midnight we each had a giant bowl of my mothers minestrone soup covered in a thick layer of cheese (oh sweet Lord, thank you for English cheddar) followed by home made, toasted and sticky hot cross buns. It's fair to say it's good to be home! However, the whole time we've been back so far I've been unable to shake the feeling that I've left something behind in India.

Our last few days in Coonoor were busy and emotional. We have been trying our hardest to tie up all the loose ends and finish as many jobs for the UK charity as possible. Any outstanding jobs have been handed over to a mini team of our American friends. We felt quite sad to let it go because we've put so much work and quite a lot of ourselves into it over our time but felt really reassured that we had handed over to some really competent and well qualified thinkers.

Hardest of all was saying goodbye to the children. On Friday afternoon we had a little party for them where we bought some balloons (which went down a treat (by which I mean they popped extremely easily)), chalk and henna and basically had a full afternoon of chaotic messy fun. We played several balloon based running-about-like-a-madman games which all the kids loved before Emily went off with the girls to decorate the pavements with chalk and hands with henna, and I took the boys to play some rougher games. I introduced British bulldog which proved extremely popular and proved just how tough the boys are. It was not uncommon to see three or four tiny lads clamping into the legs of a fully grown man in an attempt to bring him to the ground. Equally small children were flying pel mel in all directions as overzealous bigger boys flung the smaller ones about without a moments thought for their safety. It was then suggested that we played dodgeball. What followed was two solid hours of total carnage as boys of all ages pelted each other with footballs left, right and centre and more small children were sent flying all in the name of fun.

When the sun went down and after a rather long and untimely power-cut we gathered the children together to pray for them, say goodbye and give them each a little piece of cake. We always knew this would be difficult and both found it hard to maintain our composure as the children started crying and giving us both big hugs. It was difficult to know what to say, the temptation was to reassure them that we will be coming back soon but in all honesty we have no idea when we will be able to come back. These children have been the focus of everything we have done here. All the work for the charity and for Sam have both been for the well-being of these precious kids and we feel really attached to them all and know we will miss them painfully. They have taught us so much about love which is incredible considering the families they have come from. We felt extremely humbled and touched as they gave us little gifts either bought with what small money they have or taken from their own meagre collection of possessions and seeing the look of contentment when we gratefully received them.

Saying goodbye to the family was also difficult. They have been so attentive in caring for us and so thoughtful in welcoming us and making us feel at home that since day one we have felt completely comfortable living in their home. Considering we didn't know Sam at all before we came out it really is something of a miracle that we have all got on so well. Our last few evenings were spent roaring in laughter as we attempted to do impressions of each others accents (and of course the Americans accents) and playing little tricks on each other including feeding unsuspecting victims spoonfuls of cinnamon.

My mother has just delivered us a freshly baked brownie and I've just finished a large americano...the benefits of being back!

Our journey back was long and fairly uneventful. We took a sleeper bus from Coonoor to Chennai though despite the name and a surprisingly comfortable double bed neither of us got a wink. We arrived early in the morning and greeted the day with a brisk shouted argument with a rickshaw driver over a fare (I was forewarned and therefore prepared to fight my corner) and settled into our hotel room for a few hours of early morning kip. Eventually we convinced ourselves to get up and do something with the day and caught a bus into the centre of town to go to an Easter service in English. As we sat through the service I couldn't help feeling we'd left something behind. What was it? After an afternoon attempting to shop in Chennai's sweltering markets and grabbing a quick lunch in a blessedly air conditioned restaurant we settled in for the night by watching Slumdog millionaire of all things.

Our flight from Chennai to Delhi was rather frustrating. Long story short they neglected to call passengers for check in and as a result we sat for about an hour waiting when we could have been checking in. When we finally cottoned on that check in was open we briskly checked our bags and got directed the wrong way though immigration. After almost an hour in the queue they realised their mistake, whisked us out of the line, hurried us though the process and ran us to get our hand baggage checked. I enjoyed my second shouted argument in as many days as I got frisked by one official and lectured about the importance of being early for a flight by another. “Why are you so late? You have delayed the plane! What were you thinking? You are making us late!” not amused by being lectured by an Indian about the importance of time keeping I responded with fervour, “Don't get me started about being late! We've been here for three hours! It's your fault not ours!” Perhaps not the most sensible course of action, arguing with an official when your plane is due to leave in a matter of minutes but having had no sleep the night before and woken at 4:50 that morning I was not exactly bubbling over with merciful compassion. Finally, after running though the rest of the airport and being berated by numerous other airport staff we got onto the plane last to see everyone else sat down waiting (oh the undying shame of being one of those people) and silently seethed as we took off on the first leg of our journey. As we passed over mountains and plains I was again assailed with the feeling we'd left something behind...what was it?

We landed in Heathrow after eight and a half hours of watching films on the plane (they had 'The Hobbit' so I was a happy chappy) and greeted my family who had come to meet us. I love that moment when walk you spot your family for the first time in months, suddenly returning to live in the giant fridge that is Great Britain doesn't seem too bad after all. As we drove back to Thame amid well behaved motorist on blessedly smooth roads I realised what we'd left behind. We'd left a family behind. Sam and Laisha, all the children, our friends from church and friends from America. It's amazing how invested you can get in three months. We both felt thoroughly at home in India and completely comfortable in Sam and Laisha's home. Our return was always bound to be bitter sweet. We've traded our Indian family for our British one. It's not a process that can be defined with 'good or bad' the emotions are too complex for that but the result is that whichever family we are with from now on we will be unable to forget the other because unavoidably we've left part of our hearts back in India.

How are you?

We are now at the stage where we have six days left in India.  As one of these will be taken up with travelling to the airport that leaves us only five precious days left with our family here in Coonoor.

Mass catering down to a tee

In the last couple of days we've been asked many times “How do you feel about going back?” and many times we've found ourselves struggling to describe where we’re at. 

As much as it feels like we've been here just a few weeks, when we look back at everything that’s happened it’s difficult to believe it’s only been three months!  There’s been laughing, crying (often with laughter), learning, praying, playing, hairdressing, wrestling, travelling, vomming, preaching and much more.  But through all of these ups, downs and roundabouts, one thing has been constant.  Through it all we have been confident that no matter where we are, who we’re with or what we’re doing there will always be a lot of food.  (You thought I’d say God there didn't you?...although yes, that’s also true)

We are really looking forward to coming home to England, our families and our friends (but mostly cheese, our bed and timely happenings).  We have no idea what the next chapter of our life holds but we’re quite excited to get cracking and get stuck in to whatever’s in store.  We 100% want to go home.  The tricky thing is we 100% want to stay here too.  Confusing? Yeah.

Fun and hugs with our wonderful
Indian family 

Despite being British and therefore having to be reserved and unwilling to admit to any kind of emotion, we love these people and this project very dearly.  We have had an exemplary display of hospitality and feel very much part of the family.  Having to leave behind this amazing family (merrily made up of numerous random, crazy people and a great horde of loveable kids) is incredibly difficult and we will miss our life here very much.  However, a very good point was made the other day.  If you're leaving happiness behind, you will always miss it even if you go into more of it.  When we arrived in India we missed home and now we’re leaving India I have no doubt we will miss it. Daniel once said to me “Well, if it’s easy to leave (anywhere) we haven’t done our job properly” and I couldn't agree more.  Thankfully, our final week here is jam-packed with jobs and activities to get done before we go.  Finishing spreadsheets, taking last minute photos, running errands and generally tying up loose ends in between being invited for dinner, last-minute shopping trips and packing all our stuff (plus the mountains of things we've bought out here).

Looking more bored than I actually am at church

We've also been asked by a friend “What are you going to take back with you to England?”  I’m guessing the answer he was looking for probably wasn't “some nice clothes, yummy recipes and browner skin”.  I hadn't really thought about it before and so didn't really know what to say but upon reflection I reckon there are two main things we’ll take back with us.  The first is ‘Smith family church’.  We've been attending Bethesda church which has been great and we've made some great friends there but ultimately, the whole service is in Tamil. Unsurprisingly a few weeks in we were craving a bit of English and suffice to say, three months later we are well acquainted with Hillsong and Soul Survivor’s (current Christian music) latest albums and, by relying on each other for Bible teaching/study, the Smith church of two was born.  It has been frustrating at times and we've missed having a usual, understandable church but it’s brought us closer together and ultimately closer to God so we shouldn't really complain!

The pros at work

The second thing I think we’ll take back is a willingness to give things a go.  In England we had an open-doored home and loved it when people would drop by or come over for dinner.  I think we were very comfortable with hospitality and settled into the ‘role’ quite easily so when we came to India and were completely stripped of the ability to do this we felt rather lost.  No longer were we cooking for our friends, inviting people over and running our own home.  Suddenly we were on the receiving end and, although it was wonderful it was also a little bizarre trying to find out where we fitted in with that. We've also been asked to take on tasks we would very much try and avoid in England.  We’re definitely not admin type people and yet this has been our main job out here, we have little/no experience in preaching and lo, we have preached, I am not a dancer (unless you include mad skills at crazy wedding dancing with Daniel) but I have even tambourine danced at church (I can hear you all chortling at that image from here) and we wouldn't have put ourselves on the list of top people kids have fun with but we've done kids work at church and have hung out with the children here most days. So yes, definitely been put out of our comfort zone and challenged but from it we've discovered it’s ok to step up and volunteer for things you might see as ‘other peoples areas’.

Daniel with some of the Erumad lads

So basically, we have no idea how to feel.  Our heads have mostly gone back to England already but we’re here and want to make the most of what’s left.  The thought of going back to continue our adventure excites us but the thought of leaving fills us with sadness.  We've had the most amazing times and the most frustrating times.  So we feel rather odd and the simple question “How do you feel about going back?” is almost impossible to answer.

11 buses, 4 rickshaws, a taxi and a horse drawn cart

Before we came to India Em and I knew that we wanted to split our time between working for Sam and the charity and seeing some of the sights. Sam has been good enough to take us all over the Niligiri hills and to Kerala but as our time here draws to a close we have been eager to get out on our own, have an adventure and see more of what our little corner of India has to offer. So we packed our backpacks with as little as possible, made a few arrangements and early Monday morning last week set off to seek adventure.

Day 1: Monday

The alarm went off at 5:15am and as a shiver of revulsion ran through my spine at the early hour I wondered if this adventure thing was a good idea after all. Nevertheless Em and I got out of bed, made a quick pan of chai and a few slices of toast, picked up our backpacks and headed into town as the sun began to rise. I found myself whistling 'adventure is out there' from the film UP and remembering my best friend Steve comparing Em and I to Carl and Elle.

Standard white person on public transport shot...

The first leg of our journey was a bus from Coonoor to Ooty. We had asked several locals what time the first bus to Ooty left and got a whole host of vague answers so decided we would make our way down the hill bright and early and go from there. As we approached the train station we spotted a bus driving towards us and after a few moments of mouthing, “Ooty? Ooty?” at the driver received a nod we boarded our first bus of the week feeling quite gratified that we had got so lucky. It felt really good to be out and about on our own and despite being a little sleepy we were really excited for the week ahead.

In Ooty we spent 15 minutes using the toilet and buying crisps, biscuits and fruit for the journey and got on our second bus of the day to the city of Mysore. Mysore is about 90 miles north of Ooty. It is rich with fascinating Indian and British history as it was fought over on many occasions during the reign of the East India Company. The road to Mysore runs through several nature reserves with painted signs warning you not to feed the elephants or pet the tigers. It wasn't long before we had sore necks from gazing intently out of the window in hope of seeing some wild beasts. And lo, our diligence was rewarded. As the bus rounded a bend we spotted a whopping elephant with huge tusks grazing from a tree at the roadside. As the bus went round the corner we got a chance to view him from all angles. From then on it was like a little mini safari. A few minutes later we spotted two jumbos on the crest of a hill in the distance then a few miles down the road Emily noticed a little family of elephants including a baby hanging out in the village (hopefully waiting to get to work in the forests and not waiting to trample unsuspecting locals). We also saw some beautiful spotted deer, a handful of boars (though they might just have been rustic looking local pigs...) and some big monkeys with black faces and long tails. Alas, no tigers this time.

The amazing Mysore Palace

When we arrived at Mysore we went into the first hotel we liked the look of, negotiated over price and within 10 minutes of getting off the bus we were relaxing in our room. After settling in and familiarising ourselves with our surroundings we made our way to Mysore palace. The palace is an architectural masterpiece both inside and out. The ceilings are high, the walls clad in elaborate murals and sheet gold and even the pillars are painted in vivid colours. We felt like seriously nerdy tourists as we walked around listening to the free and very interesting audio commentary (we were the only ones out of the hundreds of people that we saw to take advantage of it). We also learned a lot about the Hindu faith, which was fascinating and helped explain some of the temples and statues we see all over India.

We went to sleep that night grateful for a comfy bed, full stomachs and more than anything air conditioning!

Day 2: Tuesday

On Tuesday we woke up and, finding the hotel only served Indian breakfast, decided it would be more prudent to break our fast elsewhere. In the end we grabbed a couple of bananas from a very grumpy grocer on the way to the bus-stop. After asking around for a while and pointed in vague directions we eventually found the bus to our destination for the day, Srirangapatna!

On the walls of Srirangapatna

For those of you who are unfortunate enough not to be avid Bernard Cornwell readers, Srirangapatna is a town just north of Mysore where a famous British assault took place and is the setting for the first book in the Richard Sharpe series. Emily was gracious enough to allow us to visit the fortress town who's walls are still intact and even more gracious to allow me to be her tour guide for the day.

We spent the hot midday hours walking the walls, discussing late 18th century siege techniques (what a woman, listening to me drivel on) visiting the water gate and the Tippu's palace inside the walls and the summer palace outside and generally puzzling out how and where the siege and attack took place. The Tippu's summer palace, about 1km outside the walls, was definitely a highlight with intricate patterns and murals coving every surface and paintings from the era giving faces to names and showing how the town looked 200 years ago. It wasn't hard to imagine a young Arthur Wellesley walking in the same rooms when he moved in after the fall of the city in 1799.

Getting hassled in a busy market

After Srirangapatna we ventured back into Mysore to explore the markets. We found these fairly cramped and oppressive compared to the market in our sleepy home town. Vendors on every side heckling us to buy everything from cabbages to Bindi powder. With almost every step we heard, “Madam do you know how to use one of these?” the mantra of the shop owners dying to put a red spot on Emily's forehead. Watches and sunglasses, bracelets and anklets, small wooden puzzles and plastic nick-nacks were all shoved in our faces in a vain attempt to sell. The really tragic thing was that the constant onslaught drove us out of the market without buying much at all. We would have loved to stop and browse at leisure, and I was very keen to do some haggling, but we could hardly move for vendors nagging us, and it was so oppressive and irritating we got out.

We cheered ourselves up that night with a large Dominoes pizza (which cost more than all the buses for the entire week put together) and revelled in it's cheesy magnificence!

Day 3: Wednesday

Today we left Mysore and headed out into the sticks. Our final destination was a small village called Kakkabe which I found in our ever useful Lonely Planet guide (thanks Nick and Sarah!) Eventually, after several incredibly bumpy, rattly hours on too fast buses on very bad roads, we were deposited in the middle of nowhere at the bottom of a hill. This part of the trip was all a surprise to Emily, so what she must have thought when we got off the bus in the smallest village in the world and started trekking up a hill I don't know.

After about 15 minutes walking up a gradual incline Emily turned to me and said, “This isn't too bad, I was really worried it would be horribly steep, like that” she said pointing at a slope leading precipitously off to the left. “I think we need to go up there Em” I said...poor old Emily. A few minutes later we were both puffing and panting and drenched in sweat as we climbed the 45° slope in 25° heat and humidity on top. “Well,” said Emily, “at least the weather's ok...was that thunder?” It was thunder. A few minutes later we were washed clean and cooled off by a rather persistent rainstorm. But we puffed and panted on.

Eventually we reached the top of the hill and a hikers base camp called Honey Valley. Honey Valley is basic in the extreme, costing a third of the hotel in Mysore we enjoyed a small room with a hard bed and a shared bathroom. But the fairly rustic accommodation was made up for by the truly idyllic surroundings. The estate is set in amongst jungle and coffee plantations and the humming of bees, singing of birds and smells of pollen all under the canopy of lush green trees makes this place a little Eden.

We enjoyed a vegetarian buffet dinner (is there anything more depressing than a vegetarian buffet?) with our fellow diners and swapped stories about our experiences in India before returning to our room to find we had left the light on. Every bug in a mile wide radius had congregated around the energy saving bulb. We waged a mini war against the bigger critters before trying to sleep in the company of the others.

Day 4: Thursday

Emily makes a new friend

We woke up very early on Thursday covered in bites and rather miserable. I think I got a total of two hours sleep on the hard bed being assaulted by mosquitoes. We packed a bag and made our way down the mountain before breakfast for Emily's big surprise. I was feeling really rotten but Emily kept my spirits up as we headed out as the sun came up.

We took a taxi to a nearby town called Maitikiri where there is a camp for retired elephants. These giant beasts are too old to work in the forests anymore so instead they serve as a tourist attraction for whities like us that want to meet the jumbos. Ever since we came to India Emily has been dying to see an elephant so was really excited to get to meet one.

The following three hours were nothing short of magical. After stone-hopping across the wide Cauvery river (and falling in once) we got up close and personal with around 10 elephants in all shapes and sizes. We saw a few baby elephants grazing with their mother before the big boys arrived with giant tusks and massive trunks. First on the agenda was bath time. The elephants were guided down the river where they lay on their sides and allowed us to scrub them with rocks and play with their ears and trunks. Afterwards the elephants returned the favour by giving us a shower. It's amazing how much water those things can hold!

Chilling out in the shallows

Later we got to go for a short ride on their backs and feed them little parcels of hay. It's rather a nerve racking experience putting your hand into an elephants mouth believe me! I never thought we would get a chance to get so close to these amazing, gentle animals. It was simply amazing to be face to face with these powerful creatures, touching them and feeding them, it was a real privilege and something we will both always remember.

When we returned to Honey Valley we met a new neighbour, an incredibly pretentious American who introduced himself as, “Jonny Ray, or JR, whichever you prefer, brother” and told us volubly of his adventures from the back of his motorbike on which he is exploring India for the next ten years...you really do meet all sorts of plonkers on the road.

A naughty elephant gets his own back

Day 5: Friday

Playing with water balloons at Erumad

Today we made our way back to more familiar surroundings as we made our way across country back to the children’s home in Erumad. As it turned out it wasn't as simple as I had hoped because we were essentially moving from one very rural location to another about 150kms away. As it happened it was a very effective test of our ability to get by on India public transport. In the end we took 5 buses, a Jeep and a rickshaw in order to reach Erumad.

Our overriding impression of the experience was how friendly and helpful everyone was. Not everyone spoke English but after repeating our target destination once or twice we were pointed in the right direction and guided onto our next bus. All in all the journey took us 8 hours and we arrived in Erumad rather weary but were immediately swamped by excited children who all needed greeting and entertaining. We did our best! Luckily our American chums were also there meeting the children so we deferred the over excited children to them whilst we enjoyed being back amongst friends and related our adventures of the past few days.

Spotted this beautiful bird on the way back

The following day we travelled back to Coonoor with the Americans and Sam and Laisha spotting even more elephants on the return trip and even seeing a few peacocks and some magnificent bucks with fuzzy antlers. As we bumped our way back home we discussed our mini adventure and both agreed how travel friendly India can be. Most things are really cheap and most people are very helpful. There are of course exceptions and you need to be ever aware of being ripped off but overall the Indian people are usually very friendly and willing to oblige. If you're willing to be a bit flexible, not phased by several hours of discomfort on a sweaty bus and looking to see some truly spectacular sights and experience something amazing then maybe you should come on holiday to India, because it's really really good fun!

It's raining, it's pouring

Last night Em and I went up onto the roof to watch the skies. As we stood in the dark the heavens were illuminated by great blasts of light followed seconds later by mighty roars of thunder. Unlike at home where you’re lucky to have four or five flashes of lightning altogether, we had a series of flashes every five seconds or so for about an hour. Before long there was a power cut and we were plunged into an even deeper darkness. Every now and then the world would light up all around us and then plunge us back into solid blackness, confusing our retinas somewhat! After about twenty minutes of gazing in awe at the heavens we became aware of a slight rustling noise approaching. As it got louder we realized it was rain, and suddenly standing on a roof in the middle of a thunder storm didn't seem like such a good idea after all.

We hurried back inside being pelted with pea sized rain drops as the heavens opened in earnests above us. We spent the next half an hour watching the show from our balcony and shouting back at the thunder. I think our hosts thought we were totally barmy. For some reason thunderstorms always transform me into a six year old.

A big, smiley bunch of Yankee chaps

More than anything we’re grateful for the rain. As mentioned before our district is suffering with a water shortage at the moment. The monsoon rains failed last year and with reserves running low and no real rain due until June people of every faith have been praying for rain. This week has been punctuated by several spells of heavy persistent rain much to the relief of the locals. Amongst these locals is our new bunch of friends. They come in the form of a team of 17 Americans who are renting a humongous house in a nearby town where they will be living and working. They will be spending their time looking out for those in need in the area, teaching English and business skills to those who want it.

We went to visit them this week and were shown round their incredible house with its breathtaking views of the Niligiri hills. For us it’s been really refreshing to spend some time with some English speakers and talk at length about the really important things in life (cheese, napoleon dynamite and of course coffee). Strangely one of the things we've enjoyed the most is the conversation. It makes a pleasant change to sit in a discussion, understand the topic and simply listen to what is being said. That said if we ever get asked our opinion we tend to give a much longer answer then what is needed, reveling in the opportunity to fully use our mother tongue!

Having said all that Em and I have both felt that given the choice between living in our current circumstances or living with a team we would choose to live with Sam, Laisha and family every time. We feel so lucky that for this short time we are out here we get to spend it with such a wonderful family. These last months we have been properly invested in the culture and language and find it a real privilege to experience all the mini adventures we have been on. We are so grateful to Sam and Laisha for opening their home to us and welcoming us so lovingly.

Next week we’re going on a little adventure. It’s so easy (and seriously cheap) to get about in India with buses and trains costing pence instead of pounds. So I’m whisking Em off for a mini surprise tour which no doubt we will relate to you lovely readers upon our return!

Speaking of which, we've heard from various sources about how many people are reading this blog but we’re consumed with curiosity to know who you are. Therefore if you’re reading this then please leave us a comment! Go on, say hello!                

I heart India

Surprised by a turban clad brass band just down the road

Living in another culture can be both a fascinating joy and a frustrating nightmare at the same time. Of course all of this is completely subjective, it depends heavily on your home culture and what you're used to. For us, we have found the Indian way of life wonderfully serene and surprising whilst at the same time occasionally undeniably annoying. You may turn a corner to find a marching band strutting down the road to honour a god's birthday and around the next find the shop you have walked all the way to is closed in the middle of the day, either because they are out on a two and a half hour lunch break or because it's a Tuesday (all of which happened). The challenge for us as we continue our stay here is to take the good with the bad, chill out about what we can't change or effect and roll with the punches. In the sublime moments of cultural bliss that creep up on you and take you by surprise you simply have to sit back, enjoy, take part, dive in, start dancing, roll your sleeves up, try something new and not be too afraid of looking like a wally.

Various pastors, including Sam, compete to pray the loudest

We've come across many such moments in the last few weeks as we've been lucky enough to attend a handful of weddings across the region. From a small village union of a young couple to a grand feast locally in Coonoor where two twenty-somethings fresh from University got married in opulent splendour and fed 3000 guests in the process. We've eaten biryanis off banana leaves with mystery chutneys that scald the tongue and curds that soothe the pallet. We've sung songs under colourful canopies as the sweat drips down our backs. I have been asked to share messages from the Bible, sometimes with as little as 15 seconds notice (thanks Sam...) but sometimes having a balmy 3 minutes to prepare something appropriate to say (so far I've not done so well. Last minute wedding talk faux-pas' include “blessed are those who mourn...” and “neither angels nor demons, nor the powers of hell etc...” powers of hell at a wedding...good one Daniel...). We've also been asked to assist in the cutting of the cake. Apparently its a great honour to be asked but since we didn't even really know the couples names we did our best to decline as politely as possible...ah the joys of being a whitey.

Which brings me neatly to my next thought. For some reason I have never really thought of England as exceptionally multicultural, taking our way of life as a worldwide norm. How wrong I was. I've had my fair share of being chased my little African kids shouting, “Mzungu mzungu!” but took that for a rural African/white devil type thing. I think I expected India, and especially Coonoor with it's steady stream of tourists, to be different. I was mistaken. At first you take it on the chin as it goes with the territory but now we have been here for two months and have long since thought of Coonoor as our Indian home it does seem odd to go into town for eggs and still get gawped at by passers by. Then there's the skin tax. This is the percentage of the correct price that is added to compensate for the buyers lack of melanin. A very large part of me really enjoys bartering rickshaw drivers down to what I now know is the correct price but after a while it does get rather tiresome being ripped off left, right and centre in what you consider your home-town. Worse is the websites advertising hotel rooms or day activities that quote one price for Indians and another for foreigners. How they find the nerve to put it on the website I do not know!

Many a lol with the Erumad kids

We have also had the pleasure of meeting the other half of the Bethesda children at last! We made a trip over the Nilgiri hills to a place called Erumad and were greeted by about 50 very excited children holding flower garlands and producing hugs and kisses. The kids here are really sweet, somehow much more confident then their compatriots in Coonoor and full of laughter and cheek! On our first night there they put on several dances for us, some of which we joined in on, and I was relieved to unveil my small collection of tricks to a new audience of kids (the children in Coonoor have long figured out how I take my thumb off and for weeks have been asking for new magic tricks. The shrieks of delight from the Erumad kids were most gratifying!)

  

A beautiful canopy at the most recent wedding

Most days in our little corner of paradise are much the same. Wake up, toast for breakfast, some kind of small adminy jobs until lunch, perhaps a trip into town for something, play with the kids in the afternoon, something delicious for dinner, a game of cards, meet with Sam and reply to his emails for him, a healthy few chapters of book and then bed again. But every week there are little days out here, or little adventures here. A wedding, a trip down the hill or into Coimbatore, a surprise visitor or a sudden emergency that needs dealing with. Or sometimes it's simply when walking into town you'll come across some kind of carnival or street party. Out here you have to take life as it comes. Keep your wits about you, jump in with both feet, embark on another mini adventure and hope you've remembered to pack spare batteries for the camera. 

Work, work, work!

Suffice to say that, almost 7 weeks in, we are feeling quite comfortable with India (well this little haven in India at least).  We are successfully bartering auto-rickshaw drivers down and are savvy to the sneaky ‘skin tax’ a lot of vendors seem to add to their produce.  We've mastered the art of head wobbling and eating with our hands (cutlery seems very odd now) and, although it always procures much laughter for the general public, we have a small grasp of Tamil enough to buy, for example,  five eggs, a little milk, “two teas/coffees please” and ask how much it’ll cost.  However, it would also seem that our immune systems are continuing to sample the delectations that are Indian colds/tummy bugs.  At the moment, about every 7-10 days we have a bed/down day and feel rough as dogs which can be pretty disruptive especially if visits and meetings are planned.  As a result there are quite a few times when we feel rather homesick. If you’re a prayerer then praying for our health would be much appreciated. However, on the whole we are very much enjoying it here!

You may be surprised to hear that in between all of our gallivanting and mini adventures we have actually been doing some work too!  In the UK, a wonderful group of people headed up by a man named John Eke have been busying away and staying up til all hours to progress the bid to become an official, UK-recognised charity.  A launch event was held on 9^th Feb to raise awareness of Bethesda Children’s Foundation (UK name) and gain interest in things like child sponsorship schemes.  Therefore, back in India we've been typing, reading, researching and quizzing away amongst a mountainous flurry of (mostly Tamil) paperwork and dubious facts to provide the UK with correct details of all the children here at Bethesda.  Thankfully we've managed most of them and the few unanswered questions we still have should be resolved next week as we venture to Erumad (finally!) to the other children’s home. 

Dorm 2 foundations a week ago

We've also been the liaison between the UK and Pastor Sam.  Sam is incredibly busy at the moment.  The building work in Mettupalayam is taking up most of his time as he’s supervising the laying of foundations and making sure the workers work fast enough!  On top of that, a group of about 15 Americans have just landed to be in Coonoor for a year and Sam has generously spent the last three days in Coimbatore (the Manchester of India) showing them where to buy pretty much everything to furnish a house.  As a result, he has very little time or energy for tedious email checking and updating all array of technological communications. As people who spend half their life on facebook we feel fairly well suited to the computer side of things here and, as there’s easy, fast internet here (provided the power doesn't cut out…usually about three times a day), it’s no hassle for us to do that side of things for him. 

Check out their moustaches!

Our latest project has been a government set task. Bethesda has been asked to put in-depth details of all the children living here on a missing child website so they have records of all children not living with their family.  This seems, to us, a little unnecessary as none of our children are ‘missing’, all have a story of how they came to Bethesda and at least one living relative.  Nonetheless, we were given this task and having been ploughing through yet more information to answer the government’s questions.  This probably sounds incredibly dull and, for the most part, it was. But we have had occasions of laughing fits and snickering behind hands at some of the questions.  I think the most amusing section was labeled ‘Habits’.  This required the admission of any noticeable habits the child may have.  Some tick boxes may have been classed as appropriate like smoking or nail biting but when it goes on to stretching, eyes blinking/shifting, cinema crazy and bragging…. Then come the truly bizarre when we’re talking about children. Does the child have a habit of moustache twisting or prostitute mongering? I think you see our amuse/amazement. 

Anyway, why are we doing this? Well, I guess there are two answers.  Firstly we wanted to see India and Bethesda seemed like a prime opportunity to do this and still be useful.  Secondly, and more prominently, we believe in Bethesda and Pastor Sam’s work and vision for these children.  We have found that it has had such a profound effect on so many children’s lives and is providing so much where there is need.  The UN and Indian government are, quite rightly, enforcing new regulations and policies regarding child welfare and it would be so great to see Bethesda as a leader and an example in how child care should be done in India.  It would be amazing for people to see Bethesda and think ‘Yeah, they've got it spot on’.  I think as far as the children’s emotional, physical and spiritual welfare is concerned, Bethesda is already a shining example and so all that’s needed now is to tick all the government boxes concerning practicalities of running a children’s home.

The Dining Hall a week ago

As you may know, this is the reason for the new home being built down in Mettupalayam.  This is, obviously, a very costly project.  So far the land has been cleared, the foundations for the main rooms built, bricks are starting to go up and the electricity is wired up and ready for action.  However, anyone who’s built anything of substance before will know that this is but a start.  Roofs, doors, windows and plumbing not to mention building a driveway and furnishing the place for 150 children plus wardens, cooks and security.  The initial budget Sam came up with for the building was £220,000.  Amazingly, he managed to raise £100,000 by selling one of the homes and a further £80,000 has been funded by generous givers from a couple of churches in the UK.  Correct me if I’m wrong but that leaves a mere £40,000 left to raise.  With the children due to move to the new site in June Sam is, understandably, fairly anxious about getting the building finished in time but more so about how the building will be finished without further funding.  Now, the charity in the UK are rightly focused on investigating a more sustainable, long-term and constant income of money for Bethesda.  Therefore, we are desperately looking to people like you to donate anything you can to help with this project.  If the building is not complete, the children cannot move, regulations cannot be met and therefore the Indian government has every right to close this amazing, beautiful home down.  A pretty urgent situation I think you’ll agree.

To pull on your heart strings a little more and provoke you into digging a little deeper, here is just one of the many stories at Bethesda.

Pradap & Satheesh 2001 and 2013 below

Eleven years ago these two little boys (aged 3 and 4), Pradap and Satheeshkumar were brought to Bethesda home.  Their mother had died leaving them in the care of their disabled father.  Their father was unable to care for them and could not afford to feed them let alone clothe them well or send them to school.  They were discovered at the side of a road eating dirt out of hunger.  We've been told that, when they first arrived they were shy, quiet and nothing could make them smile.  This is them eleven years later.  Satheeshkumar is a drummer in the church band and is hoping to become a doctor and Pradap is now in 9^th grade, is literally one of the most smiley kids I've ever met and is aiming to join the military.  These two boys owe their lives to Bethesda and are a real example of what a massive impact this place has on children in the local area.  There are more stories and testimonies of those who have now left Bethesda at http://bethesdamissionindia.com/childrens-stories.php.

Unfortunately, until the UK charity is fully set up and running, there is no really easy simple lovely link I can give you so you can donate at the click of a button.  Therefore, if you would like to give (and please please consider giving) please contact us on facebook or email us at emily.rebecca@live.co.uk and we can sort something out. Thanks!!

The Nilgiri mountain train

My lovely Grandmother on the train in 1975

My lovely wife on the same train almost 40 years later

Without a doubt one of the most charming and exciting features of our part of Tamil Nadu is the Nilgiri mountain steam train. From the stuffy, noisy, polluted town that is Mettupalayam the train swoops you up into the hills away above the dust and palm trees of the plains and into the cool clean airs of Coonoor and Ooty. The railway was first built in 1908 by the British to provide access to Ooty (2.2 km above sea level) which was popular with ex-pats seeking a break from the heat. The engine and its carriages have been preserved, restored or, in the case of the steam engine, replaced with similar though slightly updated versions as the older ones wear out. It is evident that a lot of thought and resources have gone into preserving the train and as a result tourists are drawn from all over India and the world to be pushed up the hill by this nostalgic marvel.

The train also holds a special place in my family history. When my mother was young her parents were missionaries in north eastern India and they sent their three children to boarding school in Coonoor and later Ooty. My mum would often tell us stories about her time in India; her various cats, her dad's agricultural projects, (the local swear words she learned) and the amazing steam train that would carry them up the mountain to school over ravines and through elephant inhabited jungle. Apparently when the train passed over a ravine and all the passengers would rush to one side to take pictures and a little version of my mother would run to the other side to counterbalance the carriage and prevent it tipping over the edge!

The steam train filling with water at the staion

Since we arrived I've been gagging to go on the railway and finally this week we got our chance. We woke at 5:30am in a very muggy, overpriced Mettupalayam hotel room after a rotten night's sleep. Nevertheless we got up and out, driven more by excitement than anything else. Booking the train is a well documented nightmare due to it's popularity. The station was jam packed with all sorts of sight seers; young raggedy traveller types adorned with tattoos, bushy beards and no shoes, many an older face looking clean, composed but slightly harassed, gaggles of Indian teens with their western clothes and Justin Bieber in their ears and hearts and tri-generational Indian families on holiday together. Despite most everyone having a pre-booked ticket there is a little of stress and strife over who will be going on this train. Luckily for us we have friends in high places. One of our church friends works on the train and managed to pull some strings to get us a really decent window seat at fairly short notice. That being said we did have a slightly nervous hour on the station waiting  and wondering if said strings could and would be pulled. Finally at 7:10am the trained pulled away from the station in a cacophonous eruption of steam and smoke leaving a few disgruntled would-be passengers abandoned on the platform, their day spoilt. Our day, however, was just beginning.

We ascend into the clouds

The train takes three hours to climb the hill to Coonoor where it waits in the station for 40 minutes while the steam engine is replaced with a diesel engine which continues the journey for a further hour and half up to Ooty. The track bends and twists its way gradually up the hill making regular stops to fill up with water and let the passengers stretch cramped legs and exercise itching camera fingers. The first half of the journey up to Coonoor sees the track traverse rocky ravines large and small with stone and steel bridges that rattle and creak as you pass over them. Waterfalls can be seen tumbling down rock and filling pools before gurgling into the distance. Flowering shrubs and trees and bindweed in many vibrant colours grow everywhere, their colours and varieties changing as the altitude goes up and the temperature goes down. You find yourself plunging into the hills themselves when the train pushes you into a tunnel and the sound from the engine is magnified and bounced off the walls while the vapour of the steam and the smoke of the engine invades through open windows. Every window has an elbow occupying it, and as the windows slide neatly away it's not uncommon to see a camera wielding so-and-so leaning treacherously far out to get a better shot of the train as it ascends (yours truly being an example of such). In fact the nostalgic aura of the train is somewhat spoilt by the multitude of camera phones sprouting from each window capturing inane photos of the ground or badly aimed videos of the air but that can hardly be helped.

Another scheduled tank fill and leg stretch

The second half of the trip delivers some truly spectacular views of the hills and the plains below. Gigantic rocky outcrops soar above the jungle on the opposite side of the valley where thousands of trees are reduced to a far off misty blur of steep vegetation. Every now and then you catch a glimpse of the road below with it's hairpin bends and it's fast paced jostling of road users trying to be king of the hill and you sigh with pleasure because even though your journey will take three times as long, it is ten times more relaxing and countless times more beautiful. When the train gets nearer Coonoor it stops at two stations, Hillgrove and Runnymede, who's names betray their founders nationality as plain as day, and passengers disembark to enjoy a snack shop and avoid evil looking Makaks. When the train finally draws level with the Glendale tea factory you're treated to some truly idyllic views of the tea gardens spreading up the hills and around brooks as they make their passage downhill. The patchwork of tea plants spreading over every hill in neat uniformity is nothing short of sublime and I doubt I will ever grow used to the sight.

Beginning the push to Ooty

Once in Coonoor (1.8 km up), and after the steam engine has been relieved, the diesel engine completes the journey to Ooty. The train quickly passes through a small village called Wellington which was named for Sir Arthur Wellesley and climbs through a eucalyptus forest and out onto the roof of the world. You really do get the feeling you are high as it gets as the ground opens out and you can see hilltops spreading before you as far as the eye can see, yet still the train continues it's steady climb. The route takes you past evidence of another of the Nilgiris top exports, flowers. Small communities congregate around poly tunnels and irrigation ditches to cultivate small multicoloured allotments growing anything from gerberas to peace lilies. As the train nears Ooty the ground levels out somewhat and the short cropped grass, gorse bushes and bare rocks put you somewhat in mind of the New Forest. Seemingly out of nowhere there appears a lake dotted with pedalos which signals your arrival into Ooty (or as the stations sign confusingly reads, 'Udhagamandalam')

The descent from Ooty is, as you would expect, much the same but in reverse. It's just as picturesque on the way down however there are less stops for water as the steam engines only job is to act as a brake to prevent the carriages careering downhill out of control.

Looking down the tracks 

Thundering over ravines

Plunging into tunnels

The whole experience of riding the train, the chuffa-chuffa of the engine, the precipitous drops and soaring heights, the vast views and clackaty bridges, the smoky tunnels and plunging waterfalls, the dense forest and the oldy-worldy wooden carriages all combine to make riding the Nilgiri mountain train a real treat. And considering a standard ticket weighs in at a ridiculous 15p (as long as you can book it) taking this train if you get the chance is a total no brainer. Every now and then I would imagine a little version of my mother in the same seat, or standing on the same platform, or more likely running away from a Makak. Catching the train with her scruffy little brother and cute little sister all those years ago, it really feels like we visited a small part of my heritage today.