“I’m Happy, Very Happy!”
I loved our language lesson today, for the joy it brought our language helper. Now that we’re heading into intermediate level, we’re experimenting with some new types of language activities. Today we tried a “shared experience” for the first time. In this activity, we do some kind of experience with our language helper. Afterwards, we sit down and reminisce together about what we did, talking in as much detail as possible. Then we make a recording of our language helper retelling the story of our experience from start to finish. We end by listening to the recording together and noting down new vocabulary words, expressions, and structures for further practice.
This morning I needed a few groceries, so we decided to make a trip to the shop the subject of our language lesson. Together with Minou, our language helper, we walked the few blocks to the bazaar on the main street of our town. We talked about the weather (clear and sunny), the dog asleep in the middle of the road, and the woman hanging laundry on a wire fence. Two older men passed us, and we overheard one say to the other, “Where do those foreigners come from?” and we looked at each other and smiled. We arrived at the shop and bought yogurt, sugar, and eggs, and asked the shopkeeper about his family and his apple orchard. We walked back home and greeted neighbors on the road. A woman passed us on the way to the market with a tub of fish on her head.
As we reached home and took our shoes off at the door, Minou said, “I’m happy, very happy!” I looked at her and saw the brightest eyes and biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face. She said, “You speak very well! I’m very happy!” She repeated this again as we sat down at our kitchen table to continue the lesson. I realized that, although she’s been giving us lessons for several months, she had never seen us out in the community actually interacting with people. She was surprised and pleased at how well we were doing. As I saw her face lit up with joy, I could sense that she was proud of us, and proud of herself, too. I’m a language teacher myself, so I understand that kind of joy. The success of the morning’s experience probably meant more to her than her week’s wages. She saw her efforts making a difference in our lives.
Posted in Uncategorized by Lisa
Reflections on the Water
This old guy is quite a character. He’s one of the men who work paddling traditional boats, called “shikaras,” on the lake near our home. Last Sunday we hired him to take us out to an island for a picnic. It was the first sunny day we’d had for a week, and we were ready for some fresh air.
That afternoon the lake was almost perfectly calm, and out in the middle of the lake the only noise we heard was the dip-and-splash of the heart-shaped paddle. My husband, not one to sit still for long, picked up an extra paddle and sat in the front of our boat to get some exercise and move us along a little faster.
Our old guy found this extremely amusing! The island picnic in the sun was lovely, and on the return trip we drank chai from our thermos.
On the lake, we were struck by the beauty of the trees and mountains reflected in the mirror-like water. I wondered why it is that we love seeing reflections in nature. The mountains reflected in the lake surface seemed clearer in outline, without the atmosphere’s haze. I noticed patches of sunlight on the sides of the hills that I hadn’t noticed when I looked at them directly. The clouds’ reflection on the water seemed more dramatic than what I saw in the sky over my head.
Isn’t that how it is with reflections? As I mentally reflect on Sunday’s outing, details stand out more clearly and I notice new things. Observing the reflection makes me see the real thing a little differently. While there may be more clarity in the reflection, depth is lacking. Reflecting helps me appreciate the real experience more, but it doesn’t substitute for it. After all, the lake’s reflection of the mountains is only on the surface, and only lasts until the wind comes up. If I want to hike to the mountain-top by jumping out of the shikara, I’ll be pretty disappointed. And very wet.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged boat on the lake, reflections by Lisa
“I Know of Nothing Else but Miracles”
This is my kitchen, and until a few minutes ago our landlord’s daughter was sitting at the table with me. Isn’t it refreshing to know that there are still teenaged girls in the world who are shy about having their photos posted on the internet? So you’ll have to imagine her—sixteen, smallish, with thick black hair and deep dark eyes. She’s preparing for a big set of exams at school next month, and she asked if I would help her with English review. I was delighted!
So we’ve been sitting at the table together for an hour or so each day, pouring over her books. We’ve reviewed modals and articles, similes and metaphors. We’ve read poems and short stories. Her English is very good, and she enjoys the review, especially the poetry! Yesterday we read Walt Whitman’s “Miracles.” It begins like this:
WHY! Who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love…
And the poet goes on to describe the many sights and sounds of everyday life that are beautiful to him, and in some way miraculous. We talked together, this North Indian teenager and I, about our favorite lines in the poem, and about the miracles we see around us.
In my own life I have experienced a few real miracles, the kind you don’t see every day and that have no “natural” explanation. I’ve had the privilege of witnessing a few in the lives of others. But I’ve also become more appreciative of the kind of miracle that Whitman writes about—the natural beauty around us, the diversity of human culture, the connections I make with people who seem so different from me. When Whitman concludes his poem with, “What stranger miracles are there?” could he have imagined me and my sweet Indian friend at the kitchen table, in the foothills of the Himalayas, with our minds meeting over the words of his poetry? I’m keeping my eyes open for more miracles to come…
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged miracles, poetry by Lisa
Three Kinds of Winter
We’ve discovered something interesting about winter in the foothills of the Himalayas: There are actually three kinds of winter. Like Goldilocks in the house of the three bears, I am meeting Father Winter, Mother Winter, and Baby Winter. Father Winter starts on December 21 and lasts for 40 days, ending on January 31; these are the days of freezing temperatures and snow. 
Mother Winter takes over for the next 20 days; during this period, snow may fall, but it will soon melt. Then Baby Winter follows for a final 10 days of warming temperatures and rain.
This year hasn’t followed the normal pattern. Father Winter slept through his turn, and we had no snow at all. Mother Winter is now in charge, and she has gotten us back on track. We’ve had several days of snow, which has melted here in town but stuck up on the mountains. Last year Baby Winter threw a tantrum which brought a return of freezing temperatures and heavy snow just when everyone was starting their spring cleaning.
Weather is unpredictable, and seems to be getting more so all over the world. Still, our neighbors here are not alone in trying to set boundaries and schedule the seasons. What’s the point? Perhaps it’s that human desire to exercise just a little control over often-powerful climatic forces. Or maybe it’s the psychological boost that we get by crossing days off the calendar, like schoolkids anticipating spring break. After weeks of wearing layers of wool and typing with stiff, cold fingers, the day comes when Father Winter packs his bags and Mother Winter takes over. I pat myself on the back and give three cheers for having survived the worst! Now that Mother Winter is in charge, I can look forward to the kindness of a little more sun each day. And by the time Baby Winter arrives, no matter what tricks he plays on us, I’ll know that his stay will be brief.
Now, to answer the Goldilocks question: Which kind of winter fits me “just right”? Answer: Summer!
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged winter by Lisa
Coming Home, and the First Snow!
We arrived home after our vacation just in time for the season’s first snow! It’s late this year—after September’s historic flood, the skies remained dry until yesterday. The snow had just started falling when we woke up, and as we ate breakfast we watched it blanket the ground with white. 
The snowflakes seemed to get bigger—soon it looked like popcorn falling out of a celestial popper. The snow stopped mid-morning; the weather warmed a little in the afternoon and most of it melted. But today we had more snow, and this time it’s staying put longer.
It was good to come back to our home of 10 months. On the last leg of our trip, we took a taxi to the Delhi airport for our flight home. In the terminal, we realized that we could spot the gate where our plane would board by the people waiting there—many were wearing the traditional clothing of our region. As we stood in line, we caught snatches of conversation around us and were excited to find that we hadn’t forgotten the language we’ve been studying! Later when we got to our house, our landlord’s 3-year-old boy met us on the front steps with a huge smile and started off on a rapid summary of everything that happened while we were gone, in his toddler-speak mixture of three languages. 
The following day I headed for the market to buy vegetables, and a neighbor woman standing outside her gate greeted me warmly. She grabbed my hand and tried to pull me into her house for chai; I had to pull hard to extricate my hand with a promise to come later. In many little ways, it was a sweet homecoming.
And the next day—snow! I’m really not a fan of cold weather, so what is it about snow that seems so beautiful? Perhaps it has to do with how the landscape is changed by the softness and purity of snow. 
Mud, asphalt, and piles of trash are all covered over, and the harshness of bare tree branches suddenly turns to lace. What grace does in our lives, snow does to the view out my window—same view, but transformed, redeemed, made lovely.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged coming home, snow by Lisa
Vacation Photos I Took, and Ones I Didn’t Take
We’ve just had our first vacation in India! My husband and I took two weeks off to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary and to get a break from the cold weather. We traveled in Kerala, on the southwest coast of India- a warm, tropical area known for its sun, coconuts, and friendly people.
We took lots of photos, including this one of me in my vacation clothes at the Cochin train station. 
We traveled by train twice, and enjoyed getting to know the Indian railroad just a bit. We were impressed by comfortable seats and air-conditioned cars, and the chicken biryani and chai we bought from a vendor were delicious.
We’ll look at our photos in the days and years to come as we remember this trip and the adventures we had together. But some of my special memories are of the photos I didn’t take. As we sat in the train, I found my fellow passengers every bit as interesting as the scenery outside our window, which consisted mainly of acre after acre of coconut palms! Across the aisle and facing us were three middle-aged men, all wearing glasses, pastel-colored shirts, and mustaches. They all fell asleep, and at one point their heads were all lolling over in the same direction as the train rocked along the track. Across from them sat a sliver-haired granny in an elegant silk sari, checking email on her ipad. Directly across the aisle from me a young couple, arms entwined, sat as close to each other as possible, talking and giggling in hushed tones. They were both in jeans and T-shirts, but the elaborate henna tattoos on her arms and hands identified the young woman as a new bride. A grandfather passed us several times, walking up and down the aisle with a fussy toddler in his arms. And of course there was the usual complement of teens with earbuds attached to their phones, texting and twittering as the train rumbled through the countryside. The train car was a slice of India, one that will live in my memory even without a photo to post.
Probably my favorite part of our trip was the time we spent at a small beach house near Kannur. It was “at the end of the road,” and there was little to do there but sit and watch the waves, swim, walk on the beach, and sit and watch the waves some more. At least at this time of year the Arabian Sea is calm and warm. It’s hard to imagine a more peaceful and relaxing spot; I find that there’s something about the vastness of the ocean that puts my day-to-day challenges into healthy perspective.
Some of the memorable pictures I didn’t take were of the public buses that we saw on the highways. It seemed that each of Kerala’s buses was painted with a different tropical scene—we saw fish, colorful birds and animals, and bright flowers rendered in warm pastels on the sides of buses. Even though some of them almost ran us off the road in our small taxi, I loved the cheerful artistry of the decorated buses. But they always passed too quickly for my camera.
We took some lovely photos while on a houseboat cruise along the tidal estuaries. 
We were served dinner on the front deck and watched the sun set, then slept in a tidy little cabin on board. The next morning we enjoyed coffee and breakfast while watching the coconut palms slip by and the fishing boats set out for the day.
The picture I didn’t take was of the family we saw in the late afternoon, bathing at the water’s edge in front of their small house. Mother was thigh-deep in the water, carefully washing the baby, while Father kept his eye on the older kids. They were talking in low voices, laughing and occasionally splashing each other as they cleaned up after a busy day. They barely glanced up as our boat passed; they probably don’t give much thought to the lives of the tourists who travel through. But their contentment mirrored mine as the breeze ruffled the water between us, contentment I still feel even without benefit of a photo.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged vacation by Lisa
Bread by Hand
January has brought a new year, and it has brought increasingly cold weather as well. It’s been dry, so we haven’t yet had any snow, but dressing in four or five layers is now our daily routine. Living in West Africa, I was always on the lookout for shade; here, it’s warm places that magnetically draw me. On my afternoon visits, I find myself heading in the direction of neighbors with warm kitchens!
Some of the best visits take place in kitchens where I arrive just in time for fresh bread with my chai. This bread is almost identical to Mexican tortillas, and is made, with regional variations, all over India. 
Here, the local name for it translates in English as “hand-bread.” The reason is obvious as I watch the process. This young woman is the daughter-in-law in the house; daughters-in-law are often the ones told to make bread and serve chai, as they are hostesses-in-training. She has made a simple dough with flour, water, salt, and oil, which she shapes into small balls. She takes each ball, stretches it, then pats it between her hands to flatten it. Then she rolls it on a round board with a small rolling pin. I watch as she expertly turns the bread just a little between each roll so that it comes out nicely circular, earning a small nod of approval from her mother-in-law.
She tosses the bread onto a hot griddle over an electric hotplate, along with a dab of oil. 
If it looks like she is sitting on the floor to do all this, that’s right—and her griddle is set up in the space under the counter (where there are cupboards in our kitchen). This is how many of my neighbors have their kitchen set up—I guess they figure why stand up to work when you can sit? I think this young woman’s fingers must already be calloused, because she can grab the hot bread with them and quickly flip it on the pan. It only takes a few minutes to cook, and in that time she has another one rolled out and ready. I asked her mother-in-law if every woman knows how to make “hand-bread” and she said yes, then asked me if I knew how. Well… I told her I probably needed a few lessons, and she invited me back to learn. That might be a good way to keep my fingers warm!
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged hand-bread by Lisa
Christmas Dinner
Our Christmas dinner was different this year. Of course, for us, that’s normal—it would be hard to find two Christmases in our highly mobile lives that were more than slightly similar! But this one was different in even more ways than usual; we are living on a different continent, neither of our girls was with us, and we had no home-made decorations. 
What we did have, though, was a warm and festive Christmas dinner together with our landlord’s family. We made roasted mutton with potatoes and bell peppers and a mushroom gravy, with fresh mushrooms! We brought the food downstairs and laid a festive “tablecloth” on the floor of their apartment. Everyone enjoyed the food and conversation in two languages.
What do we really need in order to celebrate Christmas? Many people celebrate from year to year without ever asking themselves this question, but we’ve had to answer it numerous times. Our answers: we need music; my husband has his guitar and chord sheets, and our favorite CDs are recorded on our computer. We need candles, and thankfully they are available in almost every corner shop, due to constant electricity cuts! We need the Scriptures, to remind us of the timeless incarnation story and its meaning in our lives.
And food—if turkey or ham aren’t available, mutton will do! But what makes holiday meals memorable are the family and friends we share it with. 
Our landlord and his wife, two teenaged daughters, and toddler son are the closest thing we have to family here in our new community. After dinner we played some games together until we had room for dessert– pumpkin pie, and an apple pie made by one of the girls (in our oven). No one was surprised when our landlord’s little son asked for seconds and thirds of whipped cream on his pie! On days when I feel like the light of my candle isn’t brilliant enough to drive away all the world’s darkness, I’ll remember his happy whipped-cream smile. It just might be bright enough!
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged Christmas by Lisa
Candle Light
There isn’t much sign of it here, but in much of the world, Christmas is just around the corner. I had planned to write about doing my Christmas shopping at the local market, but in recent days candlelight has filled my reflective moments. For four weeks now we’ve been lighting our Advent candles and anticipating the celebration of the coming of Emmanuel, God With Us. 
But it seems that every year as the light of the candles increases, the darkness of the world pushes back, and this year is no exception. Last week almost 150 children and teachers were killed in Pakistan in a terrorist attack on a school. The young victims in their school uniforms looked just like our neighbor children. Only a few days later a similar attack took place in Nigeria. The faces of the dead African students reminded us of our former students and friends. I am a teacher, the daughter of a teacher, and the mother of a teacher. The world’s darkness is real.
Students and their families here in our town held a candle-light vigil in remembrance of their murdered comrades; you can read about it here: http://www.dnaindia.com/india/report-peshawar-school-attack-candle-light-vigil-held-across-india-in-solidarity-with-victims-2044908 Muslims around the world are in mourning and feeling anger and confusion at the violence that seems to characterize their religion. A recent NY Times editorial entitled “How ISIS Drives Muslims from Islam” pointed out that young Muslims are increasingly disillusioned and are turning to social media to express their pain. Just a few nights ago, at a neighbor’s home, a young man pulled out his cell phone and told us how he and all his friends are putting candle icons on their What’sApp, Facebook, and Twitter profiles as a protest against the violence perpetrated in the name of their religion. They are asking hard questions and finding few answers.
We light candles at this time of year as a reminder that Jesus is the Light of the World, and that because of His coming we never have to live in darkness again. But the darkness of the world is still around us, and it’s real. Candles also symbolize prayers; as we light our candles this year we pray for those who are trapped in that darkness. And may God use me, not only to light a flame, but to be one.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged candle light by Lisa
Bollywood Comes to Town
As a Southern California native, I’m no stranger to movie shoots—most often, they seem to randomly block traffic just when I’m in a hurry! But it was a thrill to happen upon a Bollywood shooting in progress during an afternoon walk in a nearby park. We had heard rumors that a film crew was in town, but busy as we are with language study and practice, we hadn’t paid much attention. Filming in our valley is actually fairly common, as the misty mountain scenery makes for a romantic backdrop.
And this one was definitely romantic, although we couldn’t get near enough for a close-up view. Film crew kept us, along with a handful of other bystanders, well away from the action. 
At one point during a break, locals were allowed to cross the set from one side of the park to the other. Like the locals, my husband and I were dressed in at least four layers, two of which were wool, as the temperature hovered below 50 degrees. The Bollywood star was waiting off to the side, wrapped in a thick blanket. Then “ACTION,” and the romantic Indian music swelled from the speakers. Our heroine threw off her blanket, revealing a scanty red dress, and ran through the fallen leaves into the arms of her dark, handsome co-star, who twirled her around as the cameras rolled. 
As soon as the short scene was over, our starlet rushed for her warm blanket. I asked the people standing around me who she was. None of them could remember her name, but they all assured me that she was a Very Big Star. Like me, most of our neighbors have to put all their focus and energy into meeting the demands of daily life, and don’t have much to spare for films and fantasy. As we turned to leave, I wished I had had the language ability to ask them which of us looked more out-of-place—the starlet in her skimpy chiffon dress, or me, obviously a foreigner dressed up like a local. Next time maybe I’ll be able to ask, and to understand the answer. Either way, I hope my neighbors can see that the part I’m playing is not just fantasy. It’s for real.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged bollywood by Lisa