tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23822025767538674592024-03-05T20:35:36.019-08:00Three White Kids in IndiaTrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-21688042204298117812012-06-01T20:51:00.001-07:002012-06-01T22:44:47.115-07:00The End<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;">Since exactly one month ago I landed in Seattle and took my
first steps into America I figure it is time to conclude this blog. As most of you know we had a fairly
traumatic exit from India. I’ve
never yearned for home like I did during that experience. But now that I’ve been home, that exit
is just one small memory. I find
myself thinking about and missing our neighbors Chandu and Ramana, and Vara, Prem, and
precious little Nancy. Life is
continuing in India, I’m just not there any more. And now it is time to begin another chapter in America. Here is something I wrote while packing up in India to come home but never posted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">"We have officially begun to pack.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> Our apartment of 7 months is beginning to look empty
and bare like when we first arrived in October, jet-lagged and unsure of what
to expect.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> However my feelings
right now couldn’t be farther from when we first got here.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> Life in India has become normal.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> We’ve learned, adapted, and loved. As I
look all the way back to our arrival date it almost seems unreal to think about
all the things we have seen, experienced, and felt. Frustrating experiences that I thought would never end are
just memories now.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> We talk about
them and laugh.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> They made me into
a more patient person. Lets just say India teaches you patience whether you
want it to or not.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOp4r-9Fag7df7Mqp8w6aqO6XqfCwlkcYTMwIdHAtW0-eCYqWsr4ormZFFy6cAtuWVFkVW1PNFBUvbPisPn9qg1b161QAtJiI8bHnaJaK6ROb9QxhxCeNpQAkiJCus_pPCQsa8fwS8X2N7/s1600/IMG_5909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOp4r-9Fag7df7Mqp8w6aqO6XqfCwlkcYTMwIdHAtW0-eCYqWsr4ormZFFy6cAtuWVFkVW1PNFBUvbPisPn9qg1b161QAtJiI8bHnaJaK6ROb9QxhxCeNpQAkiJCus_pPCQsa8fwS8X2N7/s200/IMG_5909.jpg" width="133" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">During out last trip to Cuddupah, we did some serious at a
sports store.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> Some friends of
Brooke’s grandparents donated some money for us for the school.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> You would surprised how much further
money goes over here, and we found ourselves walking out of the store with
cricket bats, balls, and wickets, volleyballs, soccer balls, badminton sets,
rings, jump ropes, and ball pumps.</span><span style="font-size: small;">
While the kids won’t get to play with the equipment while we’re here
very much since school is almost over, they’ll have no lack of equipment for
the next school year.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> Brooke also directed getting the swing set fixed, so instead of one swing and three sets of broken chains, there are now four new swings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Soon we’ll be reunited with our family and friends in
America and instead of missing home we’ll be missing that place on the other
side of the world.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> India gets in
your blood, and as I hate to admit that I have idea when I’ll ever be able to
come back here, India and its people will always be a part of me."</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbUurp85iVVwmoPHAApoOLpla-FlaJOjMEbYQeoAB9j2kj6aCDXPiv-F9kkEuB4YAWt6raxtvyAMdKgQvQ1BJfjpImC30m3dl7Hbr_Ha64T9HVKh8B8VcMm-TryvwUMiNspM-xsEmm0RS/s1600/P1030673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbUurp85iVVwmoPHAApoOLpla-FlaJOjMEbYQeoAB9j2kj6aCDXPiv-F9kkEuB4YAWt6raxtvyAMdKgQvQ1BJfjpImC30m3dl7Hbr_Ha64T9HVKh8B8VcMm-TryvwUMiNspM-xsEmm0RS/s320/P1030673.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">Never have 7 months had such an impact on my life. While I am now fully adjusted to carpet
beneath my feet, warm showers, and paying half a month’s salary in India for a
pair of jeans, I haven’t adjusted to missing those people. I would never take back my experience
in India. The world has so much to
teach us, we just have to let it. Thanx to all of you for reading and for the support you gave
us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">-T</span></div>
</div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-19537820191301060122012-05-02T22:13:00.000-07:002012-05-02T22:28:40.682-07:00Out with a bang...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Our last days in India turned out to be more exciting than we expected.<br />
<br />
We unfortunately missed our flight out of India on April 20 because we didn't have the correct document that were required by our visa's. We ended up staying an extra 10 days and went through quite a few adventures that we will hopefully laugh about later. We recorded all the details of our struggle with the Indian police and officials we dealt with during this whole process so feel free to ask us about it sometime, but here's an example of one of our days fighting to get registration and exit papers to leave the country of India.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Wednesday 25.4.2012 [the perfect
example of Indian Stretchable Time]<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Went to the Sub-Treasury Office in Kadapa to get forms to pay our late registration fee<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Told to go across
the street to buy the forms – 2 rupees per page<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Brought the
forms, each with three sections for duplicates, to a man who was supposed to fill
them out<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Man didn’t know
how to fill out late registration fee forms<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Took an auto back
to the Special Branch of the Kadapa Police Office to get help. Our guy there
filled out an example paper and took 6 passport photos each from us for the
papers from the night before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Auto ride back to
the Treasury office. Man makes a mistake on all three forms that he doesn’t
know how to correct.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Our friend Vara takes an auto back to the SB to ask, we wait for a full hour while he asks this one
question. (the treasury office is like a sauna with no fans)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He comes back and
the man in the treasury office takes his time filling out three copies for all
three forms and then asks for a tip. We sign our names 3 times and get a stamp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Go to the bank.
Nice police man cuts in line for us so we can pay 4,800/- fee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Took an auto back
to the SB (once again) to deliver the receipts)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Total time for
above events = 3.25 hours<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Speed shovel rice
and pumpkin curry into our stomachs<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jump on a bus
back to Vempalli to meet an officer from Pullevendula who was coming to check
us out at the school. (1.5 hour trip)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Rain storm comes.
Water flows down the bus floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">10 minutes before
reaching the school, the officer calls and says we need to write a letter
signed by our principal saying when we came to the school and how long we
stayed and then deliver it in Vemula.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">No current.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Arrived at the
school with 20 minutes to write and print letter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Eat mash melon
(cantaloupe) from the principal's wife Suvarta first.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Drink tea sent by
Chandu<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Principal slowly
makes his way to the office<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Write the letter
frantically, then type it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Carry printer
from the office to Head Master Jesu Das house to use his battery. Barely enough power to
print 3 sketchy copies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Principal Israel
professionally stamps and signs them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jump in the van
with Ramana and Vara (Chennai Super Kings) and speed off to Vemula Police Dept.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Arrive at the
office. Sit down and wait while one guy checks out our letter and signed papers
to the Superintendent and Vara tells our story (yet again).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Told to hand
write a letter requesting residency documents (what a joke!), the person we
were writing it to told us exactly what to write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Took 1.5 hours to
fill out six copies of a half sheet of paper with our name and address<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One man staples
our passport photos on with 4 staples each. Police officer (him only) removes
all 24 staples and pastes them on. (first he tries to use trevors photo as a
sticker and ruins it)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Drank ½ cup tea<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Missing one ½
sheet of paper. Ramana goes in the van to get one more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Left in the van
and picked up a guy at some office and
went to Pullevendula police station.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Talked to
officers—gave them a US dollar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sat in the head
officers office—AC is too cold. Vara tells our story AGAIN.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Waiting. Too much
telegu spoken, don’t really know what is going on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Drank some
coffee. Try to speak to the unresponsive staring head officer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">1.5 hours later
receive a document called “CERTIFICATE” that states our name, address, and how
long we’ve been at the school. Also that we have committed no crimes during
this time. One paragraph long. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Correct the
mistakes in the paragraphs. [I’m not Brooke Bauer d/o Mark Bauer Christopher
Krall. Age about 21 years] Wait for a new copy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Check the new
copy, get it stamped and signed and then go on our way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Head
Constable says he will come and check us out at the school the next day, we
invite him for food at 11 am (ps. he never shows up for food the next day after we make a feast for him)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l7 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Arrive back at
school 9:00 pm.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 18px;">Let's just say we were excited to reach America yesterday evening. This experience tacked on the end of our Indian adventure made me appreciate home a whole lot more. We are all happy to be here, but our friends in India will be dearly missed. I hope to see some of them again some day in the future. </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 18px;">Can't wait to see you all!</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 18px;">-B</span></div>
</div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-66023156418666695252012-04-29T01:51:00.001-07:002012-04-29T01:51:11.380-07:00We're Coming Home!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span class="text Jer-29-11" id="en-NLT-19623">For I know the plans I have for you,” says the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.</span> <span class="text Jer-29-12" id="en-NLT-19624"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>In those days when you pray, I will listen.</span> <span class="text Jer-29-13" id="en-NLT-19625">If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me.</span> <span class="text Jer-29-14" id="en-NLT-19626">I will be found by you,” says the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>.
“I will end your captivity and restore your fortunes. I will <b>gather you
out of the nations where I sent you</b> and will <b>bring you home again</b> to
your own land.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span class="text Jer-29-14" id="en-NLT-19626">Jeremiah 29:11-14 </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span class="text Jer-29-14" id="en-NLT-19626"><br /></span></div>
<span class="text Jer-29-14" id="en-NLT-19626"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">-T</span></span></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-21710567842186537202012-04-28T00:27:00.002-07:002012-04-28T22:18:34.749-07:00Serve-Trevor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">On a Thursday, towards the end of March, we received a surprise Facebook message from Jeff
and Zach that they were going to come down and visit us for the weekend. The Gilbert boys have been spending the
year at a hospital in Nuzvid, about 11 hours away from us. That Friday morning we looked out our
window to see two Gilbert boys walking into our campus. Just like Brooke’s mom and my mom, Vara
and Prem treated us to yet another feast at there house. For those of you who read this
blog, you may be seeing a common trend.
Vara and Prem have blown us away with their hospitality and kindness
towards us, and our guests.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The weekend found us feeling a little more American. We watched movies, played games, and
even made brownies. The
principle’s family also had us over for a meal. Brooke, Sid, and I eat pretty much anything here in India
with the exception of meat. Zach
and Jeff on the other hand are true risk takers and had some chicken during the
meal. It’s kind of like playing
Russian Roulette when you eat meat over here and unfortunately Jeff and Zach
got shot this time. The 10 hour
bus ride between where we live and their place can be not so fun in general,
but with upset stomachs, from what I hear from them, hell about describes it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The fact that Sid, Brooke, and I along with Zach and Jeff
Gilbert all ended up in India at the same time, yet alone in the same state of
Andhra Pradesh is pretty crazy.
Brooke, Zach, and I were all high school classmates and Jeff and Sid
also went to UCA. It has been a
huge relief even just knowing that there are really 5 of us in this together,
and when we get together and share stories and frustrations with the culture
over here it is interesting to see how similar some of our situations really
are.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAR64gNiDWzV9rkyI0ymqodCqvplglq-4pkbVOs_1byKnVnWkw0IuylEuR_s5CYQBzzYyNAwb_KsDnE0sJMTNN2TSVF8TrKbRlMfU_ov4cHNzj2OPHXaIS2v9W2NM1lpigs_5fNijEscx/s1600/IMG_6137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAR64gNiDWzV9rkyI0ymqodCqvplglq-4pkbVOs_1byKnVnWkw0IuylEuR_s5CYQBzzYyNAwb_KsDnE0sJMTNN2TSVF8TrKbRlMfU_ov4cHNzj2OPHXaIS2v9W2NM1lpigs_5fNijEscx/s320/IMG_6137.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">In case we hadn’t gotten enough Zach and Jeff time, April 4,
a Wednesday night found Sid, Brooke, and I on the ten-hour night bus headed to
Nuzvid. This entire year, Ramana
has been telling us about his “native place” in great detail and wanting us to
visit. The date finally worked out
and since his native place is decently close to Jeff and Zach we decided to go
check out their life at the hospital.
We arrived at the Nuzvid hospital where someone showed us down a hallway
where Jeff and Zach’s room is. The
air conditioning greeted us as walked into their room, we’re slightly jealous
but we can just say we’re more hardcore </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">J</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">. Zach made us breakfast and then lack of
sleep/no sleep that you get on Indian buses caught up with Sid and I and we
passed out on Zach and Jeff’s beds.
While we slept Brooke got her nursing on and watched some suturing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The next day Sid, Brooke, and I rented some rockin hero
cycles for an hour (3 rupees each, 6 cents, pretty much broke our
wallets.) Jeff and Zach had bought
bikes earlier in the year. On our
fixed gear bikes the five of us biked through Nuzvid and off-roaded through the
mango fields, which took some serious talent. We said goodbye to Jeff and Zach and began our journey to
the famous native place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The bus ride took about three and a half hours, the first
half of which was spent standing.
In a side note as I type this you would think I just did the work out
off the century since sweat is dripping down my face and body, nope just
sitting here typing. Anyway,
Ramana met us at the bus station and the next segment of our trip consisted of
a motorcycle ride. We piled on two
bikes with all our luggage and began a motorcycle trip out into the
country. It was dark so we
couldn’t really see the landscape but we could tell we definitely were not in
the dry fields we were used too.
When we arrived in Ramana’s village, Kaleru, a huge banner greeted us along
with many of his family members.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNewkfegZcvp5CskZFt7MeYFi0SHvNlSFXbT9nufI9TOdDbtp8V_XvWeFaOl8xYldZ5mshty6JKuoH3eDmkQia46ayP4Dvefh4YrGhiajdHng35ObxWs7-DbjjpX-kbLpAPdmAJg-0fzN/s1600/IMG_6326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNewkfegZcvp5CskZFt7MeYFi0SHvNlSFXbT9nufI9TOdDbtp8V_XvWeFaOl8xYldZ5mshty6JKuoH3eDmkQia46ayP4Dvefh4YrGhiajdHng35ObxWs7-DbjjpX-kbLpAPdmAJg-0fzN/s200/IMG_6326.jpg" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ramana (Middle) and<br />
His 2 Brothers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">We spent the weekend in his village. Experiences included sleeping on the
floor, folding every blanket we could find to try and create some sort of
mattress, pumping water into a bucket to bathe three times day since it is more
humid and sticky there, drinking coconut water, and providing the entertainment
for the entire village. One
afternoon we walked around the village to just look around and by the time we
came back to home base and sat down a group of villagers, children, and old
ladies, had gathered and just stared at us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Ramana’s brothers, friends, and extended family who live in
that village treated us like royalty.
Pumping water for ourselves was not an option, no mater how hard we
tried, suddenly another sets of hands were always on the pump helping us. We were made meal after meal, always
provided with a chair if even seen standing for a moment. Satish and Buny, two of the boys even
massaged our calves and shoulders. Sreenuvas, one of Ramana’s friends would
wait while we ate entire meals, just so he could drive us the 5-minute walk
back to where we were staying.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Many awkward moments occurred, as we were always the center
of attention, for instance eating a meal while five other people just serve you
and watch you eat. But after
almost 7 months, awkward has become normal and we just look back and laugh.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBFKVJVatoVZ7M6hbHlfmb_rYYf_7lwdvXw9PfFO72erO1ibm5UUzI3Tn3h__oFd7-VQA_2rjU4XLrmJ_g5QPNgST2fe6Rh9ovRnDBqK9rUaPgE5hp9pAG1P1DqIvwfjfK6u0wisfLTU3P/s1600/IMG_6222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBFKVJVatoVZ7M6hbHlfmb_rYYf_7lwdvXw9PfFO72erO1ibm5UUzI3Tn3h__oFd7-VQA_2rjU4XLrmJ_g5QPNgST2fe6Rh9ovRnDBqK9rUaPgE5hp9pAG1P1DqIvwfjfK6u0wisfLTU3P/s320/IMG_6222.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">The countryside of Kaleru was absolutely beautiful. Green rice fields spanned until the
horizon dotted with coconut trees and divided by canals and rivers. Ramana’s descriptions of “water free,”
“native place, very nice,” and “coconuts free,” had turned out to be completely
true. Well actually the coconuts
are just free at night when they sneak into the trees to pick them. Haha</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">We traveled back to Vijayawada to catch our favorite 10 hour
bus. Jeff and Zach made a one hour
journey and meet us there for one last meal together. We took Ramana out to eat and he and Zach shared some
chicken biryani. It’s crazy to
think that they next time we see them will be in America.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Our trip to Kaleru was definitely an experience. We lived in a true Indian village for a
weekend, there are no tourist sites out there, it was just everyday life. Ramana was like a father proud of his
three kids. The villagers and his
family, though they had never met us, spoiled us to no end. Their happiness was visible through
their service. Kaleru taught
me a lot about service. And someday
I hope to be able to serve as these people served me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">-T </span></div>
</div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-28610676853537617402012-04-17T05:59:00.002-07:002012-11-03T22:48:48.617-07:00Toto, We're Not in Vempalli Anymore-Trevor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">In February you would have found me crossing out the days on the calendar impatiently wanting it to just be the 23<sup>rd </sup>already! The morning and afternoon of the 23<sup>rd</sup> seemed painfully slow. But finally the Brooke, Sid, and I piled into the van with Ramana and headed to Cuddapah. When my Mom stepped off that train it was hard for me to believe that she was actually in India. Just like when Brooke’s mom Tina and Debbie had visited, the next few days consisted of feast after feast of incredible Indian food and showing my Mom all around our Indian home, the school, and villages.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">On February 25 my Mom and I took and overnight train to the city of Hyderabad, the capital city of the state of Andhra Pradesh where we joined Jeff and Zach Gilbert and their parents. I turned 21 in Hyderabad that day, and while in our hotel, Helen, an incredible Indian lady who lives in Hyderabad with her husband, showed up with a chocolate frosted banana bread cake. Brooke and Sid had made me a blueberry muffin in a mug the night before I left. This was definitely a birthday I won’t forget.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hyderabad was really interesting, the population is 40% Muslim so combined with the arid environment and calls to prayer echoing through the city it often felt like we were in the Middle East. It was also much bigger than I expected, being one of the biggest cities in India and actually made up of two twin cities, Hyderabad and Secunderabad. We then traveled to Shimla, the mountainous capital of Himachel Pradesh, where I was reminded once again what it actually feels like to be cold. Next was Jaipur, the Pink City, Agra, where us three boys did some serious damage at McDonalds, and of course we saw the magnificent Taj. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">We visited two places I had not been to while driving between Jaipur and Agra. Close to Jaipur, off the beaten path was a Monkey Temple tucked up in a small valley. The pools of water there are considered holy so we were able to watch everyday people perform rituals, wash colorful saris, and bathe in the holy water. Then close to Agra again off the beaten path in the small village Abhaneri we visited the <span class="hascaption">Chand Baori. The 9<sup>th</sup> century step well that is one of the deepest and largest step wells in India. It has 3500 narrow steps in 13 stories and is 100 feet deep.</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Northern India was gearing up for the very famous festival Holi while we were traveling so it was cool to see baskets of colored powder around Dehli. Some Holi water bombs were also dropped on the rickshaws we were riding in through the city. When we stopped for dinner some pre-celebrators were already covered in powder, their faces bright red, pink, and purple. I can’t imagine what it is like in Dehli on the actually day of Holi when everyone lets loose and the colors and water begin to fly.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzYQNX65ySa5-yQ6iu1fzPtRpaL2_qKfFOPiRv3JkWrrnXVblJVsRrmdEUPgz3r91V6dH-T_sxL3cbjfzOR7zEYXfMVmFsLoPqn-qXVE4N1CtxHc7LMa5rtOPuWvswjRy4ApzPewFeTcm/s1600/IMG_5159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzYQNX65ySa5-yQ6iu1fzPtRpaL2_qKfFOPiRv3JkWrrnXVblJVsRrmdEUPgz3r91V6dH-T_sxL3cbjfzOR7zEYXfMVmFsLoPqn-qXVE4N1CtxHc7LMa5rtOPuWvswjRy4ApzPewFeTcm/s200/IMG_5159.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: x-small;">On the 6<sup>th</sup> of March we left Dehli for Singapore via Kaula Lumpar. Now Singapore would be a shock to someone visiting straight from the US, but after living in India, you could say Zach, Jeff, and I experienced some major culture shock. Just the award-winning airport was an experience and the ride to where we were staying. Compared to the roads, or should I say lack of roads in India which consists more of potholes, zooming 70 mph or so on a smooth Singapore freeway felt way too fast to me. Being able to drink water straight out of the sink felt so foreign.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> The subways were spotless and shiny, everyday cars consisted of Ferraris, Mercedes, Aston Martins, and Bentleys. I’m sure Zach, Jeff, and I looked like serious tourists as we stood on street corners with our mouths wide open, pointing at every nice car driving by. The city is seriously spotless. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t have picked a place more different from India if I tried. We would get tired trying to count the iPhones and Ipads in one subway car. At night the city is even more impressive. The massive three towered hotel, the Marina Bay Sands, looks out of this world as lasers shine from the top across the city.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Transformers the Ride!!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Janae Rose, one of my best friends flew in from Thailand to spend a few days with us. Zach, Jeff, Janae and I got to spend a day at Universal Studios Singapore. Our minds were blown as we rode the movies, The Mummy, Jurassic Park, and launched Battlestar Galactica roller coasters that twist and loop around each other. And last but not least the world premier of the 4D Transformers ride, I have never been on such a complex ride as we were sprayed with water, felt heat on our faces as rockets were launched towards us, and fell off a skyscraper. You could say that I was in heaven.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">My Mom and I were able to visit the lush botanical gardens and much of our time was spent just walking around the city and waterfront looking at the architectural marvels of the city. We ate some incredible mangoes, and the Gilberts also introduced me to an amazing fruit called Mangosteins. Just like India, words truly cannot describe Singapore, it is a place you have to visit to experience.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Incredible Marina Bay Sands</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The 10th of March found Zach, Jeff, and I saying goodbye to our parents and rushing off to the metro. When I say we almost missed our flight check in, lets just say the entire counter was shut down and the last two workers were shutting down the last few computers as we frantically ran up and asked them to check us in. I guess getting stuck in Singapore wouldn’t have been the worst thing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">After flying all night we arrived in Chennai in the morning. It was weird to retrace the exact entry steps through customs that Sid, Brooke, and I had made months ago as we began our adventure. The airport looked a whole lot less intimidating in the day this time than it did when we arrived at 3 am. Zach, Jeff’s and my trains left 10 minutes apart that evening. The plan was to do some sightseeing in Chennai that day. That didn’t exactly happen for me, we found a Café Coffee Day, India’s closest thing to a Starbucks, and we crashed in the back corner. You could say I was slightly exhausted. I found out it is definitely possible to sleep smashed in a coffee shop chair. Zach and Jeff ventured out later to see some sites. I agreed to stay in the shop and watch all our baggage, 12 hours in a coffee shop, new record!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I said goodbye to Zach and Jeff and began my solo trip back. Sleep was a little rough that night as I kept worrying that I was some how going to miss my station and end up in who knows where. After an auto ride and a bus ride I was walking through the gate of our school once again. A very groggy Sid unlocked the door and let me in. It was great to see Brooke and Sid and the next few hours were spent sharing about the trip and one incredible bucket shower.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This was one extraordinary trip. The Taj Mahal was still just as impressive and Dehli still puts the CRAZY in crazy. Singapore was more visually stimulating than a Peter Jackson movie, but getting to spend time with my Mom, the Gilberts and Janae (and well maybe Universal Studios, haha), were truly the highlight of my trip. Now my life here in India, the school, our Indian family, and the kids will be more than just pictures to my Mom. She was able to experience some of what I experience and meet some of the people who have joined my family. And Mom, I know you read my blog so thanx for coming all the way to India to see your son and for taking me to Singapore. You're the best!</span></div>
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TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-75162683520573564742012-03-20T00:20:00.000-07:002012-03-20T00:20:15.168-07:00the latest from "the three friends"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">It’s been a while since Trevor, Sid, or I have written anything about India. I think it’s about time for an update!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Trevor got back this week from his trip with his mom. We sat in our kitchen, like we do very often, and he shared with us all the wonders of sights he saw and we oohed and awed over his descriptions of the clean streets and great food of Singapore. Sid and I have not actually left our school, besides going on walks or runs through the surrounding villages, since February 23 when we went to Kadapa to pick up Trevor’s mom! We are starting to feel a little stir crazy.</span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFZGV_Tn1L3F5eTBpno5iIauhdrupRJFucq6Q2AylAj-yidM9MKIMy6-iepHom3AarvGEQb0iDUHQeko7AcBHaW-uYhtuEDAHjNvY8AoIHUfeWC3g4MsQHqTAFrS8uh_teFAyxxB5KJxKl/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFZGV_Tn1L3F5eTBpno5iIauhdrupRJFucq6Q2AylAj-yidM9MKIMy6-iepHom3AarvGEQb0iDUHQeko7AcBHaW-uYhtuEDAHjNvY8AoIHUfeWC3g4MsQHqTAFrS8uh_teFAyxxB5KJxKl/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We seem to cook a lot!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While Trevor was gone, Sid and I were subbing 5 or 6 classes every day and by the end of the two weeks we were dead tired. Then to add to the fun, I preached for church one of these Sabbath’s and we continued our Bible study lessons on each Sabbath afternoon. (Trevor spoke the week before I did, and Sid is up next!) Thankfully we have had a small break this week and our job has switched to secretaries. Like we did before Christmas for half-yearly exams, we are typing up the portion and question papers for the final exams. These are basically study guides for the kids. There is one for each subject for each grade, so it takes time! But it seems relaxing compared to keeping kids under control in class all day. </span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We make delicious banana mango smoothies!</td></tr>
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Our daily schedules have turned into something like this: I wake up around 6:30 am, drink some tea, do my devotions, eat breakfast, and then wake up Trevor and Sid 10 minutes before worship. We all go to worship on time at 8:40 am and then get our daily assignment from the headmaster. We then go to class, type some portions, and read our books in between. At lunch time we cook up some delicious food. We have become pretty good at using our resources to make really good stuff. Sid and I blend up the best banana mango smoothies in the ‘mixie’ everyday (and that’s not just a nick name for a blender, it’s actually called a mixie!). We also make our own ‘curd’ which is the same as home made yogurt. After school is over at 3:30 pm, we reluctantly do an insanity work out video to get some exercise, drip sweat all over the floor, and then mop it up. It’s gross but we’ve adjusted to sweating most of the day, so it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal! There is some afternoon tea drinking with our brother Ramana somewhere in here as well. </span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Nancy</td></tr>
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The kids have recreation period around 5 pm so we go play volleyball most days. Afterwards we go straight to the home of our friends Vara and Prim where we skillfully bust out like 15 chappati on the stove and help with some other dinner preparations. This is also play time with our little sister Nancy who is almost three years old now and has changed so much since we first met her. She knows who her ‘acca’ (big sister) and ‘anna’ (big brother) are and likes to draw on us, dance with us, and instruct us to “come!” She is the cutest! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43d5JkYQnsL_CEljrzvvXEd3O26cG9toihAs24H3hPBglF9p1F7pOBTpt1jiugtykH07esWcbv8HYWEuxZQGri4-FQbGeaAe2B-t472gthYbd1MvpBUGpP_KGeSlThAfe3LkmGZilwKmj/s1600/IMG_4314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43d5JkYQnsL_CEljrzvvXEd3O26cG9toihAs24H3hPBglF9p1F7pOBTpt1jiugtykH07esWcbv8HYWEuxZQGri4-FQbGeaAe2B-t472gthYbd1MvpBUGpP_KGeSlThAfe3LkmGZilwKmj/s320/IMG_4314.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More cooking at Vara and Prim's... </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Most days we end up eating around the time the boys start there evening worship. Vara is the boys dean so his house is a part of the boys hostel and we get to listen to their singing while we eat! Sometimes it takes a minute or two to decipher what song is being sung. The boys seem to enjoy the challenge of “who can sing the loudest” and end up yelling the words. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The rest of our evening is usually spent in our little house. And that’s pretty much the average day!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It’s funny to think about how things have changed since our first month here in October. When we entered this culture, we were scared of curd and buffalo milk, eating with our hands was kind of weird, and we thought we weren’t going to survive because all there was to eat was rice and dal! Now we are making our own curd and buying buffalo milk everyday, we don’t think twice when we shovel food into our mouths with our hands, and our creativity in the kitchen has us cooking up meals better than Martha Stewart! You enter a new lifestyle, and you adjust and move on. You can always make the best out of your situation. Even though it may take time!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Just last week, on March 15, school became half days because of the heat. This is a government required thing! The temperature is almost 100F or more everyday and the power that keeps our fans going seems to go out at the hottest time of day. At these points we find ourselves plastered to the floor trying to stay cool. In December we would boil water at night to add to the really cold water from the faucet for our bath, now we are putting water in the fridge to mix with the water from the faucet which comes out at a very warm, unsatisfying temperature. It might feel like winter in Idaho when we get home in May, but I will definitely not be complaining!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This post is getting much too long, but I am almost finished!!!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This last weekend, we celebrated Women’s Day by having all the church services run by the women on campus. For vespers on Friday night, our sister Chandu sang a telegu song that was probably the best special music I have heard since I’ve been in India! (maybe I’m a little biased, but it was SO GOOD!) On Sabbath, I trudged up to the stage in my sari for both Sabbath school and church programs with all the women. Our sister Prim gave one message for church that actually made me tear up. She talked about Heaven and how there will be no more pain, fighting, or goodbyes. I was already thinking it in my head, but she went ahead and said, “next month we will have to say goodbye to our three friends…” and that did it! It hit me that we really only have five more weeks with these people and I have no idea when I will see them ever again. It makes me sad to think about leaving this place that has become our home, but at the same time I am anxious to get back and see my family and friends. It will be a bitter sweet feeling when we leave for the Chennai Airport on April 23!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">-B</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxxfmBia8cbtns5Gloj8-9Ge8p1XkvOfL3glU_VXFdOvUOZH5_BSjFmcigSyPnHgqUea5cgCxIuywymE52Yd__r71VLM5TN4Bd_ZUa2wdDFRVbPvSZb7a1Sdw_jRwOT0CmBUsa622FmPv/s1600/P1030967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxxfmBia8cbtns5Gloj8-9Ge8p1XkvOfL3glU_VXFdOvUOZH5_BSjFmcigSyPnHgqUea5cgCxIuywymE52Yd__r71VLM5TN4Bd_ZUa2wdDFRVbPvSZb7a1Sdw_jRwOT0CmBUsa622FmPv/s320/P1030967.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the campus hens are here to keep away snakes and scorpions.<br />
they are extremely obnoxious and squawk<br />
outside our window in the EARLY morning...<br />
we don't really like them :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsVRtv1fv4DWlsJNnm4eTxDwjfkskmH0BZ2qDptKTUAvh2NLrfHwXLcTbAlwfnL6f5AZquQm-Wi9NVFNnsOWCgUlcamo1KYLwEgsRN4-XdcD3-MTfsSiUDGoURazwPEJHWcwy2hbp2Mdzz/s400/P1050272.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">enjoy</td></tr>
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</div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-19683785814616180582012-02-19T21:23:00.000-08:002012-02-19T21:25:49.745-08:00Family Portrait<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4Cfqiu2N3NI3Im9S-Anbs1yITdkXRQhxwYCNbWCDFZ8bUeBZnKvwMv5nzWIaF6Lw0s8ymJkECeLgpVJkxHjEwy3p7HvPfHO2ZfCQjV4g5qD9pJgfGZpxhyphenhyphenDu04-ndb7WdQ68IMuNt02u/s1600/IMG_4338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4Cfqiu2N3NI3Im9S-Anbs1yITdkXRQhxwYCNbWCDFZ8bUeBZnKvwMv5nzWIaF6Lw0s8ymJkECeLgpVJkxHjEwy3p7HvPfHO2ZfCQjV4g5qD9pJgfGZpxhyphenhyphenDu04-ndb7WdQ68IMuNt02u/s400/IMG_4338.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-72737567838359786212012-02-19T11:26:00.000-08:002012-02-20T07:10:23.264-08:00Blunt-Trevor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMw39mPvRXd5NhoaG7hiq0va5ibWmOIJeYL5W23GYde-C6dT-lWRnbV4V6JbVTTxAEJ0RDuFaPj5EHB1hr3RMEVDvZCKSAwMRcLtPZl0HGFjQf_IUX5fUmI8N8Vs18QHQjSgImC_7ffZh/s1600/picture-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMw39mPvRXd5NhoaG7hiq0va5ibWmOIJeYL5W23GYde-C6dT-lWRnbV4V6JbVTTxAEJ0RDuFaPj5EHB1hr3RMEVDvZCKSAwMRcLtPZl0HGFjQf_IUX5fUmI8N8Vs18QHQjSgImC_7ffZh/s320/picture-1.png" width="205" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I recently finished the book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Crazy Love by</i> Francis Chan. The book isn’t overly complicated or long but packs a powerful punch with every page. The book deals bluntly with the topic of being a lukewarm Christian. The author addresses the topic of truly living your life for Christ. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Chan writes<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">, “You have a distinct choice to make: to let life just happen or to actively run towards Christ.” </i>I feel myself every day, even as a student missionary struggling to make this choice, I am comfortable with letting life happen to me or at least making my own plans.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Maybe it’s the fear of failing, or just my own obstacles, but I find myself fitting Francis' descriptions of a lukewarm Christian in so many ways.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For so much of my life I didn’t understand the desirability of God or trust in His love enough to submit my hopes and dreams. I lived in a constant state of trying to be “devoted enough” to Him, yet I never quite made it</i>, “writes Chan.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I know that God wants all of me but I fear what the complete surrender to Him will mean. You would think that while being a student missionary would be one of the best times to come to terms with what being a Christian is but it doesn’t feel that way. Here I am in a foreign country, and I haven’t truly surrendered to the person I should be putting all my trust in.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I’ve given 7 months of my life and the comforts of home up, had amazing experiences and memories I will never forget, but so often fail to realize that I’m here for more than myself.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In Chan’s words<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">, “Jesus, I need to give myself up. I am not strong enough to love You and walk with You on my own. I can’t do it, and I need You. I need You deeply and desperately. I want You. And when I don’t, I want to want You.”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">-T </span></i></div></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-37804892152958153562012-02-18T08:59:00.000-08:002012-02-18T08:59:40.758-08:00Next on the menu: delicious homemade tomato sauce<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Delicious Fresh Chunky Homemade Organic Garlic Tomato Sauce<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">First go to expendia.com and book a flight to Andhra Pradesh, India. (Tirupati or Hyderabad airports are good options)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">[Hint: tuck a box of Mezze Penne pasta into your baggage]</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Next, locate your local vegetable market and pick up some organic fresh tomatoes and garlic. Bartering is encouraged and advised (if you are white).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Next: THE SAUCE</div><div class="MsoNormal">6-7 Tomatoes (10 Rs per kg, or 0.20 USD)</div><div class="MsoNormal">8-10 pieces of Garlic (5 Rs per kg, or 0.10 USD)</div><div class="MsoNormal">1 tsp sugar</div><div class="MsoNormal">1 tsp Jeera (cumin) seasoning</div><div class="MsoNormal">1 tsp Black pepper</div><div class="MsoNormal">Salt to taste</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Chop up 6-7 tomatoes into fours and put in a pot on the stove over medium heat. Add about a tsp of oil to keep it from sticking. Allow tomatoes to cook, stirring occasionally, until they are very soft and become nice and juicy!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Mince 8-10 pieces of garlic and add to the tomatoes.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Add sugar. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Add Jeera, black pepper, and salt for some extra flavor and simmer for a few minutes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Make sure the tomatoes have cooked down until they are “saucy” but still have some chunkiness to them. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And you’re donzo. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbkdGtS8yJJ9EjbnJ5-SfkiqpGXDGAu6v-urysIIhuLnn0HPOUG-thdMbdjDC2cQxSyOx0L8SnF7tmSbwpSTDR4vltPV_aFXZXOpG1iu_FwcopyOYakUp2EDmZW_izUSWjYlTcPVgpZuNc/s1600/P1040016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbkdGtS8yJJ9EjbnJ5-SfkiqpGXDGAu6v-urysIIhuLnn0HPOUG-thdMbdjDC2cQxSyOx0L8SnF7tmSbwpSTDR4vltPV_aFXZXOpG1iu_FwcopyOYakUp2EDmZW_izUSWjYlTcPVgpZuNc/s320/P1040016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span id="goog_543161481"></span><span id="goog_543161482"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Toss with some delicious mezze penne pasta sent from Seattle, WA of the USA and enjoy!</div></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-1041208731595521492012-02-16T07:37:00.001-08:002012-02-16T07:45:11.931-08:00Indian style, delicious Banana Chocolate Protein Smoothie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ever wondered how to make the best protein smoothie you've ever had? With just a few key ingredients, you can make a delicious smoothie full of nutrition that will leave your taste buds tingling!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We will begin this adventure with a few key instructions:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1. Pull out your blender (or magic bullet, or food processor if you are in America)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2. Make sure there has been power for several hours before beginning the smoothie making process so the freezer has had time to do its work.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3. Locate the following ingredients:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>3-4 frozen bananas</li>
<li>2 Tbs peanut butter</li>
<li>1/2 - 1 scoop delicious chocolate protein powder from Costco (not sure what brand!)</li>
<li>1/8 C oatmeal</li>
<li>1 1/2 C ice</li>
</ul>(ps. peanut butter and delicious protein powder must be sent in a parcel from America)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOSFWiXTLT6K_r8POj4YZ9ObbhoGEkdy21VVR-q7rZl3wEjDJ1Ie_Kglvud7NuyJyMcE22rZdPuRYI3ZE3HOXLSYATLKNqPmPikRYFhiwdhwOuEnTuWu6BzDpst5ax3IHnIyTLvCSOhvxY/s1600/P1030988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOSFWiXTLT6K_r8POj4YZ9ObbhoGEkdy21VVR-q7rZl3wEjDJ1Ie_Kglvud7NuyJyMcE22rZdPuRYI3ZE3HOXLSYATLKNqPmPikRYFhiwdhwOuEnTuWu6BzDpst5ax3IHnIyTLvCSOhvxY/s320/P1030988.JPG" width="278" /></a></div><br />
Add all of the ingredients to the blender and then add just a little bit of clean mineral water. Start small, you can always add more if needed! You don't want your smoothie to end up like a watery Indian milkshake.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcVdTkBoO7MyouzYARNW4dG2TrlKtzBtsEYyOXdwPlGX-TDaNFYJL1gRKhe_jWUBzIE_M2jUgdZe0B8f-LOdhnp2nWWlFz-nIpDTZF_m2wozzpxsrJR0angm099FJxeQ7pIXQi8Bjq2zd/s1600/P1030990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcVdTkBoO7MyouzYARNW4dG2TrlKtzBtsEYyOXdwPlGX-TDaNFYJL1gRKhe_jWUBzIE_M2jUgdZe0B8f-LOdhnp2nWWlFz-nIpDTZF_m2wozzpxsrJR0angm099FJxeQ7pIXQi8Bjq2zd/s320/P1030990.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Blend on multiple different speeds (just for fun) until all ice and banana chunks are smoothed out. And there you go! A delicious smoothie full of protein and flavor...<br />
<br />
Makes about 4 servings. Save extra in the freezer for a special treat when you are sweating in the Indian heat and need something cold to refresh you!. :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhneQ4NVzJuSic59suyTDLGeIbK5rmoorW0L69eEu6bcRs2_R4Q1rQgUKLAiPngsupl_jF29A2jGNygjRDmQXyZZv2DYS7UJMTuf4PCXsCJlJYElv7lu3W1DGs80EgoHzncSv1RXe_G8Bt4/s1600/P1030991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhneQ4NVzJuSic59suyTDLGeIbK5rmoorW0L69eEu6bcRs2_R4Q1rQgUKLAiPngsupl_jF29A2jGNygjRDmQXyZZv2DYS7UJMTuf4PCXsCJlJYElv7lu3W1DGs80EgoHzncSv1RXe_G8Bt4/s320/P1030991.JPG" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you Peach Orthodontics for sponsoring this message!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
ENJOY<br />
<br />
-B</div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-19262020119127897842012-02-11T10:17:00.000-08:002012-02-16T01:26:58.131-08:00Blend<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8KDCRJYZxkJmCeQ0b7K9GzMIafVjyIBJ_HrowHvyIdLcTv46jQ_V6Sqxec1CTuNbPgm1ASLlKz64eKbs7mXP_4lQ2fbn43Hye4aBkWhu0lgcMWv8afpy0M_02XucGNVwvQdwgdjrb_CV/s1600/P1030525+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8KDCRJYZxkJmCeQ0b7K9GzMIafVjyIBJ_HrowHvyIdLcTv46jQ_V6Sqxec1CTuNbPgm1ASLlKz64eKbs7mXP_4lQ2fbn43Hye4aBkWhu0lgcMWv8afpy0M_02XucGNVwvQdwgdjrb_CV/s320/P1030525+-+Copy.JPG" width="155" /></a></div>Today, after the church service, we went to Mr. Tirupati Reddi's house for lunch. Mr. Reddi is a Hindu man who donated all the land our school is located on and currently lives in the village directly behind us. He is a farmer and we occasionally see him around the school paying visits in his white dress shirt and white lungi with a towel thrown over his shoulder. This is the traditional attire for older men that we see in our area. So Mr. Reddi invited all of our staff and many of the villagers to his new home for lunch and served us all some great food. After finishing our meal, we were standing out front chatting with some of the staff kids and witnessed something I've never seen before. A man was standing outside the front door of the new house, holding a large melon of some kind that was on fire and moving it around through the air. He then took the melon and smashed it on the ground. Except it didn't break apart all the way, so he picked it up and smashed it again. Then he placed one piece at each edge of the stairs going into the house and someone came with a pot of blood that he poured over each piece. Actually it was colored powder mixed with some liquid, not blood, but it looked like blood.<br />
<br />
All the while, we stood a few feet away watching with some major curiosity. Other cultures and religions are much more interesting to see in real life than they are to read about. What is the most fascinating to me, is that a Hindu man donated all of this land for a Christian school to be built on. And not only this, but he is active in the school and pays regular visits. Today he had all of the staff for lunch, and then provided dinner for all 450 students as well! And even more generous than this, he is paying all of the teacher's salaries now who haven't received them in three months because the money from the division is extremely delayed. He is an incredibly nice man and it is awesome to see different lifestyles blending together, sharing food and space.<br />
<br />
Lately we have been talking about how we feel like our time here is ending and that we should be going home shortly since we have passed the half way point. The only problem is that we really aren't going home that shortly...and we still have about three months left. It's hard to get rid of this mindset for some reason. But I keep reminding myself that this is a once in a life time experience and NOW is my chance to learn more, because there is always more to learn about and ways to blend with this culture by spending time with these people we have come to love so much. It's so important to live in the now. Every day we make a choice about what our attitude will be and where we will involve ourselves and if we don't put our effort into NOW, that time is wasted. And that time is precious!<br />
<br />
-B</div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-37208833154365629362012-02-03T08:27:00.000-08:002012-02-03T09:34:18.578-08:00Let It Go, Bro - (Sidney)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyh9SFO7kJjvOoty2ndjF1Eur-5lTXfAJm2MBrvnE6rSpgY1WjwmNkNF_Tc5JW4T20o4Hwnt45je9w5ICGgGkp3hddY-r-A_hl_QKG4HpKG0W3HURSnvsxW61S3ufvlJka9I8hSN9pali/s1600/IMG_3790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyh9SFO7kJjvOoty2ndjF1Eur-5lTXfAJm2MBrvnE6rSpgY1WjwmNkNF_Tc5JW4T20o4Hwnt45je9w5ICGgGkp3hddY-r-A_hl_QKG4HpKG0W3HURSnvsxW61S3ufvlJka9I8hSN9pali/s320/IMG_3790.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">During our 6-hour layover...</td></tr>
</tbody></table> The train station was freezing. We didn't expect a country like India to have temperatures in the realm of freezing, but just like everything else in India, things never go as expected. Fortunately we were prepared with coat layers at the ready and scarves at the neck. We bundled up nicely and I spent some spare minutes doing some extra breathing exercises so I could see my breath freeze in the air - the little things are appreciated when you go without them for so long. Trevor Carstens, Brooke Bauer, Evan Kinne and I scoped the neon red schedule board for our train number, "Uuuummmm - English Section! Bottom Left! Cool, there's our train number. Wait did that say Gorakpur or Gokafur or Gkeydufa?" After finagling around the Hindi we saw that our scheduled overnight train from New Delhi to Gorakpur was going to be about 6 hours late, meaning that it would arrive at the station at 3 in the morning. 6-hour layover? No problem. Realizing our unusual situation, we killed about ten minutes joking about the train being late. It's on a track right? Good. Only 5 hours and 50 minutes to go. At about this point we're all thinking the same thing - let's go get more food! <br />
Earlier in the day we had found this awesome omelet maker on the street in the center of the tourist beat area of Old Delhi and I knew that's where I'd be headed. Trevor is really good at researching things in the Lonely Planet guidebook so we knew most of the nicer restaurants around to set up camp for a while. We try to skip the ones titled "Food Plaza" or anything of that sort. That doesn't even sound appetizing. I think the place we finally landed at had a rooftop restaurant. Oh wait, every restaurant is a rooftop restaurant in Old Delhi, only a few aren't, and they all have the same menu. With two big pots of tea we were ready to wait out the duration.<br />
I was the only one craving omelets so l went out solo to find this omelet making wizard in the center street area. Dodging vegetable piles and fruit carts while rickshaws and motorcycles were dodging me I forgot about the bitter cold for a brief moment. Crossing the street in India is an adventure in itself. There was this one time in Bangalore where it felt like we were actually in a real life game of Frogger. Anyways, where wer- oh yes, omelets. I could only see part of the omelet stand around the giant rock pile that blocked my view. What is a giant rock pile doing in the middle of the city? I don't know, ask the thousands of people that walk by it every day and don't even give it a thought. Such is India.<br />
Arrival accomplished. The egg-crafty guru whipped out an enticing omelet display that included fresh vegetables and the latest combo of hot sauce madness. I thought that after three months here I had gotten used to spicy Indian food, until I realized my mouth was on fire. The kids around laughed as I choked down the omelet inferno. "Maybe a little less green sauce on the next one," I muttered to the omelet maker while next to him a scrawny and ragged man (his business partner maybe?) smiled back at me through a twisted collection of yellow and brown ivory chomps. I noticed the omelet maker was laughing too. He must've seen the incessant mouth fanning and look of horror on my face as my eyes desperately scanned the area for the nearest bottle of Aqua Fine - India's knock off version of Aquafina. "No I'm not crying." A few minutes after being an H2O vacuum, I was myself again.<br />
The city was starting to slow down and most of the shop owners had packed up for the night. We were halfway through our layover! It's amazing how a city with so many millions of people can shut down so quickly. I don't blame them for closing early though because it got uncomfortably cold, even with a coat. Seeking warmth I drifted over to a fire that three guys were building out of some random things like plastic trash, clothes, and cardboard – probably toxic. Getting into a good conversation with people in India is always a struggle, but always worth a try. It's not often you'll find the good English-speaking ones. I tested out some Hindi phrases I'd learned on a train as the three of them smiled happily in approval. We casually exchanged some choppy English dialogue and went through the list of routine questions. "Where are you from?" "How long you stay?" "What is your name?" Done. Usually these questions go in that specific order. Immediately after interrogation, we chose the privilege of silence.<br />
A break from the surrounding chaos and warmth from the makeshift fire lured me into a dreamy state. I joined the small circle on the gritty pavement as we sat in peace. We were an untouchable community of unfamiliar brothers, glowing on the inside and tired on the out, as thoughts of the day paraded through our minds. It was unusually surreal. Fifteen minutes felt like half an hour and those minutes have become cherished memories. Following this unexpected fellowship I had to depart. Saying a quick goodbye, I left the scene with not a care in the world, and it was at this simple moment while walking back to the rooftop restaurant I realized that things never ever EVER go as expected in this country. I should've known. I already knew. This was an interesting realization. It was like one of those lessons you already know, but you still have to learn. The fact that Indian schedules are all screwy and hardly anything goes the ‘right’ way, made me think.<br />
<br />
Thinking is a good thing, but if you think too much you'll go crazy. Sometimes crazy can be a good thing, but then people will avoid you. But sometimes being avoided can be a good thing - it gives you time to think! :)<br />
<br />
Even before deciding to come to India in September, we discussed the prospect of a month long tour of India. Of course this was a fantastic idea because no one knows if we'll be able to come back to this country ever again. As we moved closer and closer to Christmas break this talk became a reality and before we knew we were finally in the middle of it. None of us knew traveling in India would be so difficult. The time it would take anyone to drive 60 km takes Indian drivers four times as long. This can be attributed to the fact that every meteor shower seems to hit Indian roads and Indian roads only, causing potholes and other miscellaneous decay. Of course that's a drastic exaggeration, but it's an accurate description. It's one of the many examples of things going awry and people being okay with it. They live with it, and get along just fine.<br />
All this difficult travel, nine-hour periods of "time pass," people ripping us off because we're white, and many other unexplained phenomena told me that even though sometimes life is C-R-AZY, everything is going to be okay. I'm still breathing, I'm still seeing, I'm still loving, I'm okay, and I'll still have a place to rest my head at night. I should let it go.<br />
Seeing happy people with no material wealth whatsoever put something in my heart that I can never forget no matter how deep I dive into American Culture. The more I care about what's going on in my life, the less I care about theirs. There's a saying I tell my students in class, it goes, "You can't listen and talk at the same time." It works to keep them quiet for a while but then they start talking again. In my life I need to do more listening and less talking, for if I never listen I'll never learn! And in India, when my voice goes unheard and lost in the noise or drowned in the silence, I get to listen. I get to let go. It's fantastic.<br />
<br />
Leaving New Delhi, India's bright and shining capital city, I felt at peace within the chaos. We were all ready to move on to our next stop. Goa, Mumbai, Jaipur, and Agra were all memories while our eyes looked forward to Nepal and Darjeeling - the last few stops of this 28-day backpacking adventure around the country. This night was December 21st, just a few days before Christmas but also the night before Evan's birthday. We all felt pretty bad that his birthday would be spent under the fluorescent lights of our Sleeper Class train car but at least he could purchase 5-rupee chai at his bidding desire. We try to think positively as best we can and by doing this we can make the best of things. "Brooke a mouse just ran over your shoe!" Sweet.<br />
<br />
Making the best of things…<br />
<br />
- S. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIUXhXIFO9H_H_oj9Mlf0erFJji-j9dm9m_Tt0uPA-YBF8WsPG77kqOndne22myhJrAE3B1CqRdd8JUxnqTsI22om6newSTh91gXd0jGZD36h952_V4H2ZTTaWelVo4kUlvdHHIE77_-Uw/s1600/IMG_3751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIUXhXIFO9H_H_oj9Mlf0erFJji-j9dm9m_Tt0uPA-YBF8WsPG77kqOndne22myhJrAE3B1CqRdd8JUxnqTsI22om6newSTh91gXd0jGZD36h952_V4H2ZTTaWelVo4kUlvdHHIE77_-Uw/s400/IMG_3751.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Night Market in Old Delhi</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-57434159475895685852012-02-02T04:45:00.001-08:002012-02-02T04:48:34.076-08:00...and this too!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">16. When something hurts, it's "paining."<br />
17. Sidney, Trevor, and Brooke are interchangeable names for us according to many kids.<br />
18. You are almost guaranteed to be asked if you "had your breakfast?" every day.<br />
19. A persons 'native place' is always better than any other cities nearby<br />
20. It's impossible to give without receiving, especially in the food department.<br />
21. Scheduled train arrival times are totally irrelevant to actual arrival time.<br />
22. Water buffalo are kind of ugly!<br />
<br />
(I like this list making!)<br />
-B<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXiOZ5UJog-xcq6Lj6KhL-gneF128jjkHJ1TSFFhNuD6soMsheLNf_dFTdZxzrqc0CJHK5VwEFfMYSG48yZTtNySYGZ9FD61JE1K_LWHO0t0QJfaKJdrBnDhBhytKyCNgTw65P3V4aF66b/s1600/IMG_1741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXiOZ5UJog-xcq6Lj6KhL-gneF128jjkHJ1TSFFhNuD6soMsheLNf_dFTdZxzrqc0CJHK5VwEFfMYSG48yZTtNySYGZ9FD61JE1K_LWHO0t0QJfaKJdrBnDhBhytKyCNgTw65P3V4aF66b/s640/IMG_1741.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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</div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-19319041910194902192012-02-01T07:24:00.000-08:002012-02-03T02:48:44.966-08:00This is India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><style>
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">15 of the many things we’ve learned from living in India, specifically the farm country of Andhra Pradesh.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>It takes 30 seconds for ants to find a candy wrapper in the center of the room, give or take a few seconds.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>The max amount of people you can fit into an auto rickshaw is…haven’t figured that out yet. There is always room on the back, inside, or even on top.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>“We will leave at 10:00 am” usually means 10:30, but it could mean 11:00, 12:00, 2:00 or even tomorrow.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">4.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>If the villagers were to choose between a free Bollywood movie ticket or staring at us for 5 minutes, they would stare at us.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">5.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>99% of the time in major cities, auto rickshaw drivers will try rip you off with their first quoted price.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">6.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>“Drink hot water,” “Put oil on your stomach,” and “Take a tablet,” are three of the cures for pretty much every form of illness, except maybe a cobra bite.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">7.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>Even the smallest woman can look menacing when she stares at you holding a sickle.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">8.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>India moves in the quickest and craziest, slow manner possible. This one took a while to get used to.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">9.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>When being served food, “Okay that’s enough,” guarantees at least two to three more scoops of rice and curry.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">10.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>Although we miss food in America every day, the word bland comes to mind when I compare it to the flavorful food here.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">11.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>Rice, oil, vegetables, and sugar are staple food groups.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">12.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>India women love to braid and touch Brooke’s hair.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">13.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>Acne=mosquito bites</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">14.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>Indian children sing songs in the key of…A, C, F#, E etc, all at the same time. We have a theory that they are the first to discover the unknown key of Z Major.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">15.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>220 volts coursing through your arm hurts a lot more than 140 volts.<br />
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-T </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRkg0vxxPQtgje-YyWh5GKMJ8bwXg0r61_JD7IZFmPy__bjbnWHu7cYJU_P7Im_131zQlHTT3dVuNazjxhNpkK-NivfG3k8sm-nbnKWCKMrNjgGGLi91kvG9syQSpSKhPwY0KhpWzEX97/s1600/IMG_4001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRkg0vxxPQtgje-YyWh5GKMJ8bwXg0r61_JD7IZFmPy__bjbnWHu7cYJU_P7Im_131zQlHTT3dVuNazjxhNpkK-NivfG3k8sm-nbnKWCKMrNjgGGLi91kvG9syQSpSKhPwY0KhpWzEX97/s400/IMG_4001.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">India has some serious Sunflower fields!</td></tr>
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</div></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-63756959052024758372012-01-22T10:04:00.000-08:002012-01-22T10:04:03.387-08:00Our Journey Continued... (Goa-Delhi) -Trevor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">Figuring we’re starting to near the end of January it’s time I finally write a little more about our trip around India.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lately it has just been hard to actually sit down and write about our trips because the details, crazy situations, and stories seem so endless but I’ll try and highlight at least some of them for you guys.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Candolim Beach, Goa</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Our previous blog post brought us to our first destination, the wonderful beaches of Goa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Excitement during our stay here consisted of meeting Brooke’s boyfriend Evan at the railway station who was going to join us for the rest of the trip, being surrounded by other white people for once, our first actual over-our-heads shower after leaving the US, sampling an endless amount of restaurants due to Goa’s tourist business, and renting mopeds to explore the coast. The latter brought a little too much excitement for me when I found myself lying on the side of the road after a truck cut me off causing me and my moped to fall and slide down the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> "Awesome Trevor you would be the one to get in an accident in a foreign country," I thought. </span>I definitely consider myself lucky as a crash like this could have ended my ability to travel with some serious injuries, but instead other than a bloodied arm, knee, and foot, some very uncomfortable road rash was the extent of the damage.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal">Saying goodbye to Goa and its beaches was hard, but on Tuesday the 13<sup>th</sup> we boarded a train for Mumbai.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shortly into our ride, after talking to the fellow riders we learned that the train’s destination wasn’t actually Mumbai, it was Pune.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To reach Mumbai we had to get off at an early station and then take local trains to Mumbai.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This stop was scheduled for around 2:00 am or so in the morning<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>so my road rash combined with the fear of missing the station caused my sleep to be more like no sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got off at our stop and bought a ticket to Mumbai Central Station, we were set, or so we thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few minutes into this train ride we learned that this train did not in fact go to Mumbai Central.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What followed was a series of mad dashes from train to train, often just following the crowds of people and asking for help from the whoever we could find around us that spoke English. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Caves of Elephanta</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">After a day in Mumbai, seeing the Gateway to India, taking a boat to Elephanta Island and seeing the famous caves, and exploring Crawford market we boarded a 18 hour train to Jaipur Rajasthan. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We arrived in the early afternoon but had time to head out of the city and explore the Amber Fort and Palace before the sun went down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was actually one of my favorite places, the massive fortress complex looming on the hill made me feel like I had traveled back in time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In India the idea of unsafe areas and guardrails hasn’t really been implemented at many tourist sites so we found a crumbing stairway and climbed up the mountain to a second fort overlooking the entire valley.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amber Fort, Jaipur</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Jaipur was definitely an experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We battled the expensive prices of the auto-rickshaw mafia as it is called in Jaipur, explored the Old Pink City and it sites, and even saw a Bollywood film in a famous theater.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rockin movie soundtrack may or may not have been blasted on Brooke, Sid, and my computers when we got back to the school. :)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We also battled the cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently we figured that the rest of India would be similar temperatures to the always summer temperatures of Andhra Pradesh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ya we were definitely wrong, and the lower temperatures found us buying scarves and even a blanket for each of us to try and keep warm.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On Sunday the 18<sup>th</sup>, we arrived in Agra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Agra was foggy and cold but the next morning we woke up early to go see the Taj.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Considering we could only see a few hundred feet in front of us because of the fog we bought our tickets and hoped the fog would burn off later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To kill time until then, we decided to explore a little bit of Agra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This included some of the most persistent sellers we had encountered. A man literally followed me around for 15 minutes trying to sell me a whip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He started at $20 US dollars and despite me telling him no matter how low he went in price I had no need for a whip, he continued to offer it to me and the price ended at around $2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was almost sad that he was so desperate to sell me something.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDh0KNQqQHX80AS4fynr6FoW_jl7VEbQwCFT8drtP3o-J4wL0QklTijst0s5QDXdsOhmPBct1JAg_ES1jFgoWpfGsvugbU7suGa95ThWOsqKWzU4-YdyN8jnbMw1VRi2TOQyNQqaZ8-ww_/s1600/IMG_3138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDh0KNQqQHX80AS4fynr6FoW_jl7VEbQwCFT8drtP3o-J4wL0QklTijst0s5QDXdsOhmPBct1JAg_ES1jFgoWpfGsvugbU7suGa95ThWOsqKWzU4-YdyN8jnbMw1VRi2TOQyNQqaZ8-ww_/s320/IMG_3138.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Thankfully that afternoon, although it wasn’t the bluest of skies most of the fog had burned off and we spent the rest of the day at the Taj Mahal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The marble palace, calligraphy that scales the walls, and jeweled tomb on the inside truly were sights to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the sun went down, the light colors highlighting the massive architecture combined with fog truly gave the historical site an almost mystical and heavenly atmosphere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before leaving we even ran into a guy and girl from good old Spokane Washington.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We were then off to New Dehli, our last major stop in India during the first leg of our trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had heard many things about Dehli before we arrived, that it was dirty, full of trash, loud, and busy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was all of these things but we were actually pleasantly surprised with some of our time there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stayed in an area close to the main train station.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This area, especially at night, had the feel of a giant street fair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were endless amounts of street food, shops with decent prices, and vegetable markets complete with a butcher shop that looked like something out of a horror movie. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful People</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">So far we had not encountered any extreme problems on our trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when I think about this, without the help of so many of the local people this would not have been the case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes there are bad people in India, but there is also so much good here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember just standing in the Mumbai Central Railway Station trying to figure out what to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An elderly Indian man came up to us and asked us if he could assist us in any way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He then proceeded to give us detailed directions to our destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was visible that it was giving this man joy to help us. He acted as if it was an honor to help us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many other people also came to our aid when we didn’t know where to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Traveling in India, especially on a budget is in no way easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a constant battle for fair prices, traveling sleeper class left us feeling dirtier than dirty, and nothing really is straightforward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But besides this, traveling India created so many memories that I wouldn’t trade for anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of the people here are just as beautiful as the Taj Mahal and being able to experience their country truly is a gift.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">-T </div></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-26440801047044236662012-01-11T09:28:00.000-08:002012-02-03T09:46:14.604-08:00The beginning of our epic journey - Sidney<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">When we started this trip, we thought it would be smart to write down, every once in a while, the things that had happened so we wouldn’t forget and so we could share it with everyone. So while in Goa, after our first journey on a train, Sid wrote this up (with a little help from me, Brooke and some input from Trevor as well). Unfortunately we got lazy and didn’t continue writing great blog posts about every place we went, so an update on the rest of the trip will come later! This will give you an idea of how the trip started though. Hope you enjoy! - B<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">"Vara and Prim cooked us up a gourmet meal before we left consisting of Tiger rice (enough Tiger rice to feed an army), egg fried rice, and chapathi’s (of which we made 20 and had to take some in a ‘parcel’). She also had homemade peanut butter (sweeter than ours at home) and egg curry (guudu curra). We ate at a semi-rushed pace under the candlelit dimness of the power outage – a daily routine we’ve gotten to know quite well.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Ramana was waiting for us and urging us forward because he wanted someone to come to the railway station with us and that wouldn’t happen if we rode a later bus. We ended up going to Vempalli with Rajeev and then to Kadapa as a trio because we don’t need no babysitter. The trip began. With enlightened hearts and serious anticipation we were on our way. We made a few friends on the bus to Kadapa who helped us know which stop to get out on and how much an autorickshaw would be to the railway station. Everytime we talk about a “train station” the Indians have a look of confusion but when we say “railway station” they know exactly what we’re talking about.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Looking around the railway station in Kadapa you’d think they’re acting as part railway station and part hostile because bodies lined the floor and we had to be careful where we stepped. Dogs snuggled closely to oblivious mummies snoring under their patterned blankets as if they knew each other in a previous reincarnation. After asking the enquiry attendant about the process of our train situation we sat down in an open area where hardly anyone was around – perhaps a little too cautious about our belongings and paranoid every time someone walked too close to our bags. However, there were reasons why no one sat at this certain area of the railway station – mosquitoes. The war began as Brooke quickly whipped out her Cutter, while 6 gigantic blood suckers homed in at Trevor’s juicy calves. It was a massacre. The war claimed no victor but left the mosquitoes hungry and moved us to an area where we sat under a nice, cool mosquito-preventing fan. After 5 games of i-Spy and 6 games of Go Fish, it was time to board the train which was conveniently an hour late. The peculiar mix of excitement and tiredness was quite the experience. You know that feeling your brain has when you’re up too late but everything’s funny and you’re tired? Yeah, that’s what it was. If there were more people at the train station at that late hour we probably would’ve gotten some confused glances.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Chronic laugher, dim fluorescent lights, loud snoring, cigarette smoke, narrow aisles and multitudes of buff, bald men were the dominating features of our particular sleeper car at one o’clock in the morning when we boarded. Oh joy. Picture the three of us sitting on one side berth cot that we were supposed to share for the night (since only one of our tickets was confirmed) with our bags on our laps, staring at the wall wondering what the next 12 hours of our lives would bring, or if life would even bring us 12 hours. To say the least, we were pretty scared. Not just because of our surroundings but because we were tired, we wanted sleep, and it’s almost impossible to sleep with one eye open. We eventually ended up in different berths as the night went on and people disembarked the train at various stops. The train was considerably less scary after sunrise. Sid made some great friends with the bald men who had actually all shaved their heads because they were returning from a visit to a temple in Andhra Pradesh. We were all introduced and did some Hindi language practice. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> It was good to get the first trip on a sleeper car train out of the way. With many more in our future, we would have to be prepared to meet some interesting people and smell some new smells!"<br />
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- S</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6e8FKbFpxpr0LChy9894n3IHNFDIHyUKlAmJ1yQxtWNY1EQDeNZkpbgmFp914ryBGDBYiZDNy66ts7TmxV_taRGGQnZG5IItYO6bIkOP11i3WTfcBxlC-iR0Wghv0PnhEiGuA8ra56hB/s1600/IMG_2799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6e8FKbFpxpr0LChy9894n3IHNFDIHyUKlAmJ1yQxtWNY1EQDeNZkpbgmFp914ryBGDBYiZDNy66ts7TmxV_taRGGQnZG5IItYO6bIkOP11i3WTfcBxlC-iR0Wghv0PnhEiGuA8ra56hB/s320/IMG_2799.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were glad that Sid made good friends with these guys. :)</td></tr>
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</div></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-41409576986183726502012-01-07T21:03:00.000-08:002012-01-09T03:15:07.973-08:00Home in Andhra<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">After an incredible 28 day journey around India and Nepal we are back safe in our apartment at the school in good old Andhra Pradesh. We visited 9 major areas including Goa, Mumbai, Jaipur, Agra, and Dehli, Darjeeling, and Kolkata in India and Pokhara and Kathmandu in Nepal. Transportation included trains, buses, mopeds, taxis, auto-rickshaws, bicycle-rickshaws, and subways. Compared to the polluted dirty cities like Dehli and Kathmandu the slow farmlands where we live never seemed so inviting. It is amazing to see the familiar faces at the school and to be back with our neighbors Ramana and Chandu. We're still tackling each of our piles of laundry, I've never missed a washing machine so much and you don't want to know what the water looks like in the buckets when we are done, and also enjoying the joys of being able to cook for ourselves and feel clean. It's daunting thinking about telling you guys all about our trip but in the next few days we'll try to post at least some of the crazy highlights. I hope you all had had an amazing holiday season and that the start of 2012 has already been a blessed one.<br />
<br />
-T</div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-44393967587357356952011-12-09T04:16:00.000-08:002011-12-09T04:16:35.243-08:00Namaste<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFX38vE8sL5vx4dip1b1-qw7Wzu6S47jB91J59ePG86nqm1tNXgcXRKVSFtqS_JOXpsUYTblksqNKj9QuR2dmxf9alHTLklY_wl8DR7P8Xg4QZo4L8veQBrln2ElawbGHRPlUowApvkAJ8/s1600/IMG_2177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFX38vE8sL5vx4dip1b1-qw7Wzu6S47jB91J59ePG86nqm1tNXgcXRKVSFtqS_JOXpsUYTblksqNKj9QuR2dmxf9alHTLklY_wl8DR7P8Xg4QZo4L8veQBrln2ElawbGHRPlUowApvkAJ8/s400/IMG_2177.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>At the moment we are running around our house packing things, cleaning, and trying not to forget anything. I'm pretty sure my backpack weighs the most out of the three of us, Yay, but Brooke and Sid aren't far behind me. Packing for a month in one backpack is definitely challenging. I really shouldn't even be typing this blog post probably. But anyway I wanted to let you all know that we leave for our trip all over India and Nepal in a few hours. Our train leaves at 11:00 pm and only one out of our three tickets has been confirmed, the other two are wait listed, but we are hopeful. :) First stop is Goa and then the plan is Mumbai, Jaipur, Agra, Dehli, and then Nepal after that but it's India, plans can easily change. Since we're traveling you may not hear much from us until 2012! Wish us luck! Merry Christmas!<br />
<br />
-T</div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-90285997525286939472011-12-08T11:47:00.000-08:002011-12-08T11:47:50.795-08:00INDIA#10 - Christmas Greeting Mash-Up Song<iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/UAh1JRflt5Y?fs=1" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" width="459"></iframe>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-35625046203377464202011-12-08T11:41:00.000-08:002011-12-08T12:00:44.308-08:00Early December in Pictures-Trevor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-rF0iJnLRnLeAEkuqJz6xMypIeFnwSniB1k4fhPWef0ERmdgnxERFYhyhgppkRV4NDDuC1eRYJr9t9OaCnUlmVzl1dD3pqd22FOcM5bRJYGVIjwZrY8OUIeCGJFkWd1yF-IF4lEUaRTg/s1600/IMG_2039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-rF0iJnLRnLeAEkuqJz6xMypIeFnwSniB1k4fhPWef0ERmdgnxERFYhyhgppkRV4NDDuC1eRYJr9t9OaCnUlmVzl1dD3pqd22FOcM5bRJYGVIjwZrY8OUIeCGJFkWd1yF-IF4lEUaRTg/s400/IMG_2039.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Early Chrstimas Feast With Our Neighbors</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2G6iEuuSeRj5BsrDGtpO10DUm2jGfuHnE4zPuN0s3FELrPZ-lBQlycEzp_dxL-F8GCWFDGcZU3i8afkZbQnzNrNxprgtYRTpM1hYRaKMebnCxJTTdOhRDBo_74fY9TCxAk_Ilysod_9IE/s1600/IMG_2008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2G6iEuuSeRj5BsrDGtpO10DUm2jGfuHnE4zPuN0s3FELrPZ-lBQlycEzp_dxL-F8GCWFDGcZU3i8afkZbQnzNrNxprgtYRTpM1hYRaKMebnCxJTTdOhRDBo_74fY9TCxAk_Ilysod_9IE/s320/IMG_2008.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saturday Hike With the Entire School</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girls Dancing to Feliz Navidad</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best Christmas Skit Ever!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2LeBy3mSfMkZpjU0dknXaTfwDJvUjwGR1BiWM8QAcVkcnE7lIQifjk8bCJsdF8SuOd0eFmsBLlQQUFPGdv2Jc3taCIH2k68YVQBaelT_7kISoDrun2BKHSElilhc5CBVUCEfwWkqQCxr/s1600/IMG_1967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2LeBy3mSfMkZpjU0dknXaTfwDJvUjwGR1BiWM8QAcVkcnE7lIQifjk8bCJsdF8SuOd0eFmsBLlQQUFPGdv2Jc3taCIH2k68YVQBaelT_7kISoDrun2BKHSElilhc5CBVUCEfwWkqQCxr/s320/IMG_1967.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrlRqJjpnip2EWnMCoSQY8_000JTDkfhQutITgvQe0rTZruy7LUacQjteTxsZQjHQx64A27hck_yqgXCg6ARSos4kx24bK8lkbYo4U1-IleP1Q8jdY52KITWx79x7uCapSgCrRd4ukz5bx/s1600/IMG_1979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrlRqJjpnip2EWnMCoSQY8_000JTDkfhQutITgvQe0rTZruy7LUacQjteTxsZQjHQx64A27hck_yqgXCg6ARSos4kx24bK8lkbYo4U1-IleP1Q8jdY52KITWx79x7uCapSgCrRd4ukz5bx/s400/IMG_1979.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sid Got Christmas Lights From Home</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-21866812867356021942011-11-26T06:16:00.000-08:002011-11-26T06:21:38.022-08:00Thanksgiving with the Indians-Trevor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><style>
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<div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">It is hard to put into words how special our Thanksgiving was here in India but I will try my best. To our surprise our Thanksgiving celebration started the night before. Sid, Brooke, and I were eating dinner at Vara and Prem’s house, our adopted family. Normally we eat chapati and a different amazing curry each night but that night Vara made special vegetable chapati, special omelets, and then off course there was delicious curry. He told us this was to start our Thanksgiving.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">We woke up Thanksgiving morning remarking to each other how it really didn’t feel like the holiday at all. When I think about it, this is the first time all three of us have been away from family at the holidays. The kindness and special day to follow would quickly help us forget that. During the morning the principle and his wife had us over to wish us a Happy Thanksgiving and to give us some carrot cake. At lunchtime Chandu, brought over two different curries for us to try, one of them was even a pumpkin curry!!! The little things definitely make us excited here in India. Yes, we spend a lot of time eating.</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuUhCTcIZtEofkQwkSIGtYEKIDKfKMDKYKRCaw4ljsMSWxhRlk0m0t1nhYj82bOs17nhGYaN44ozK1kTC71guc8F4HTnFWFnHovfCyfaHZE2UBvk6RnCGINIBf6hlEVGecjC7bsCYWHI0/s1600/IMG_1877.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuUhCTcIZtEofkQwkSIGtYEKIDKfKMDKYKRCaw4ljsMSWxhRlk0m0t1nhYj82bOs17nhGYaN44ozK1kTC71guc8F4HTnFWFnHovfCyfaHZE2UBvk6RnCGINIBf6hlEVGecjC7bsCYWHI0/s200/IMG_1877.jpg" width="191" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">For dinner we had invited Vara and Prem, and Nancy, their adorable little girl, Chandu and Ramana, our neighbors, and Rajeev, a younger single guy over for dinner at 7:00, so the afternoon found us preparing for the meal. The day before we had made a shopping list and busted right down to the grocery store, just kidding, we went to the bustling street market in Vempalli and bought potatoes, green beans, beets, carrots, and cucumbers, all for the whopping price of about three dollars.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">By the time 7:00 rolled around we had used pretty much every dish and pot in our house, plus borrowed some from next door and some from Vara and Prem. Sid set up two tables together, found a table cloth, lit candles, and also ran around until we had enough plates and utensils for everyone. We were going to make this a legit Thanksgiving!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrWiWXWSNKi53GqpiKoUyk1_SUegQ8hyphenhyphenmjZ8tOYFJX1UogKXDOQLuDMp2wvkYcVSkt2TWsVigaWZPiV-YfXCnJAkeJ6cBTBfBYDFLHAyLnn2jy05K91xJmfFXsWqJ8ASiE5rDvjoBjzBN/s1600/IMG_1852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlrWiWXWSNKi53GqpiKoUyk1_SUegQ8hyphenhyphenmjZ8tOYFJX1UogKXDOQLuDMp2wvkYcVSkt2TWsVigaWZPiV-YfXCnJAkeJ6cBTBfBYDFLHAyLnn2jy05K91xJmfFXsWqJ8ASiE5rDvjoBjzBN/s200/IMG_1852.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;">In typical Indian manner, everyone showed up around 7:30. The table was full with two pots of mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, gravy, seasoned green beans, a fresh vegetable plate, pineapple, and cooked carrots and cauliflower. Brooke deserves most of the credit for the food, especially since she needed the power for some of the cooking, and the power here likes to play games with us, especially when we need it the most. We resorted to just keeping our headlamps on for the last half hour spent cooking.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67IXyxXqwvpg2PbgtrZ1yZKDoQgRtt4ziLEaICONWbFB3ItTUcgO915oRYRf39NDrV79q08ekEEY97uvPn6eJV7zQ1md53-U0ujeZayQSPXksegWwYUAcYP9NfSsL6BSiRR0R7Z8F2Hbx/s1600/IMG_1859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67IXyxXqwvpg2PbgtrZ1yZKDoQgRtt4ziLEaICONWbFB3ItTUcgO915oRYRf39NDrV79q08ekEEY97uvPn6eJV7zQ1md53-U0ujeZayQSPXksegWwYUAcYP9NfSsL6BSiRR0R7Z8F2Hbx/s200/IMG_1859.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rajeev loves ketchup!!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6KQKAWlKtXqvi3Rb67VVJRkdAzMqcqHanNiKpP2zpcI9TZMuapSyiIommBhHi_r6sdGIQre8YWwFc3dk56_LdAGh_clQEAU0h7CE_Ysw8QZkDZMVml_-fg1QlNRH3xxph8GDiz6C7omJW/s1600/IMG_1855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6KQKAWlKtXqvi3Rb67VVJRkdAzMqcqHanNiKpP2zpcI9TZMuapSyiIommBhHi_r6sdGIQre8YWwFc3dk56_LdAGh_clQEAU0h7CE_Ysw8QZkDZMVml_-fg1QlNRH3xxph8GDiz6C7omJW/s200/IMG_1855.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ramana</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;">As dinner began, watching our guests try some American food was almost as entertaining as Ramana lifting his plate up to his face to use his fork, complete with elbow sticking straight out. The ketchup was also a big hit with baby Nancy and Rajeev, as he put it on mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and the vegetables. Kind of reminds me of American kids and myself. Ketchup makes everything better. Sid played the part of an Indian host very well and for the first time we were the ones giving and offering more food even though they were full. We concluded the meal with some apple cider from home, custard, and Brooke made one killer carrot cake complete with frosting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxb90allwypCBta6v_nHSYnpOmaoV6smuEuWYJCvHshmXWki7bnIKlaaTHQEG2VL_nuB2-ZXDJTXYjkQuoTdkOCrf5Q_t_0vPo4uGiYRPhZg68itLTxY3-pI2ARL6r_KB3gXNv4bTiQHKC/s1600/IMG_1857.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxb90allwypCBta6v_nHSYnpOmaoV6smuEuWYJCvHshmXWki7bnIKlaaTHQEG2VL_nuB2-ZXDJTXYjkQuoTdkOCrf5Q_t_0vPo4uGiYRPhZg68itLTxY3-pI2ARL6r_KB3gXNv4bTiQHKC/s200/IMG_1857.jpg" width="133" /></a>It was Sid’s idea to continue the American tradition and go around the table and say what we were thankful for. Brooke and I started by saying how much all of them meant to us and how they had made India so special. I will never forget what happened next. Vara had to translate for Ramana but as he began to talk about how Sid and I are his brothers, and Brooke his sister, my eyes started to water. By the time Chandu, Vara, and Prem had talked about how they would miss us when we left I was a goner. I was sitting at Thanksgiving dinner crying, that’s a first. Sid didn’t fair much better soon after I started. I don’t think it helped that we were sitting directly across from each other. So now the <b>two American boys are crying</b> at the table and Brooke is able to hold it together, classic.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">These incredible people are not just like our family, they are </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>family</b></span>. Their immeasurable kindness and beauty blows me away every day but as I was sitting around the table with all of them together I could just feel the<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>happiness</b></span> in the room. It is definitely true, food brings people together.</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADC72WBtug0cps9ioJBDSw3t8-x6JTYLicvukoMElrx4pYc8aaiYXEKTMFuWdi1nshAZsnCgdOD1v_nfo7EmNlYnMWSlAoCoce44yRXUkbkSOOfmLS8ocmqUYm-hWvENAZK_EVho-VgXO/s1600/Dishes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADC72WBtug0cps9ioJBDSw3t8-x6JTYLicvukoMElrx4pYc8aaiYXEKTMFuWdi1nshAZsnCgdOD1v_nfo7EmNlYnMWSlAoCoce44yRXUkbkSOOfmLS8ocmqUYm-hWvENAZK_EVho-VgXO/s320/Dishes.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dishes-Before and After!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;">After dinner, just like in America we all found ourselves in the kitchen. I physically had to stop Vara from washing the dishes, which I’m glad I did because after everyone had left we could fully survey the damage. I had to stack dishes on the floor to get to the bottom of the sink to even start.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Today, the day after Thanksgiving, we were over at Vara’s and Prem’s for dinner and to our surprise in a pot we found mashed potatoes, with an Indian flavor of course. My favorite line of the evening was, “I want you guys to terminate them!” Well we terminated those potatoes! Ha!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">India has definitely gotten under my skin. Sorry for repeating, but these people are truly incredible. Rajeev told us that he would remember our meal for the rest of his life. I would have to agree. Happy late Thanksgiving! I’m thankful for India!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">-T </span></div></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-39265427401444491222011-11-20T08:56:00.000-08:002011-11-20T08:56:30.333-08:00I Thought I Was Stonger-Trevor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">So far most of my blog posts have been about traveling, fun experiences, and just India in general.<span> </span>Although it’s much easier to write about holidays or the amazing curry I ate last night I thought I would open up and be honest about some of my emotional journey, so here it goes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">I remember those first few weeks.<span> </span>Each day seemed like a week in fact.<span> </span>I never thought I would feel the way I did.<span> </span>I had been to Malawi, Namibia, and Malaysia all on mission trips, lived in a dorm for four years in high school away from my parents.<span> </span>I’m a strong, independent kid I thought.<span> </span>Living in India would just be another adventure full of fun times right? <span> </span>Yes and no.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">I remember the moments where I stopped <span style="font-size: large;"><b>missing home</b></span> or even thinking about going home were few and far between. Even when I was playing volleyball or talking with people, most of my brain was struggling to stop thinking about how I didn’t think I could do this.<span> </span>I had heard of student missionaries having horrible years and all I could think of was, “I’m going to have 7 months of this!!!???”<span> </span>That thought was overwhelming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">I found myself during those first few weeks shutting off from the experiences around me.<span> </span>I felt tense, alone, vulnerable, and weak.<span> </span>The things keeping me in India included how much planning I had put into the trip, the donations of friends and family, not wanting to give up, and Sidney and Brooke.<span> </span>I </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>WANT TO BE HAPPY</b></span> I kept telling myself. <span> </span>I want to laugh until it hurts and not just put on a fake smile and pretend it is all okay.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">It has been over a month and a half since we spent our first night here in India.<span> </span>I’m reading <i>Blue Like Jazz </i>and the author talks about how one of his most painful experiences was realizing has selfish he truly was, that life was a story, but he was not the main character it revolves around.<span> </span>Despite how it is embarrassing to say it, I also am beginning to see that life is not only a story about myself.<span> </span>There are so many beautiful people here in India.<span> </span>Their beauty shines through their kindness, faces, laughs, and smiles.<span> </span>As I am beginning to realize that me being comfortable is not the one main goal in the story, life here is <span style="font-size: large;"><b>India</b></span> has started to come alive in <span style="font-size: large;"><b>beautiful</b></span> facts and colors.<span> </span>Things that would make me just want to retreat to my room in frustration, now still make me frustrated but I’m able to turn it into laughs and memories.<span> </span>People here have become family.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeMw7wuuuPUkw-9qwfIob85htpxTknttMUCfU52ooRRZg9p8jCuWooyjKPdnee37MsGztmmiLVcgxDGkapCZnWmQRKG-b5QBy53Gv6B9uWNNTfscjqjyd3eKBtLLNxFodDuhQ_s9M5z8e8/s1600/IMG_1664+-+Version+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeMw7wuuuPUkw-9qwfIob85htpxTknttMUCfU52ooRRZg9p8jCuWooyjKPdnee37MsGztmmiLVcgxDGkapCZnWmQRKG-b5QBy53Gv6B9uWNNTfscjqjyd3eKBtLLNxFodDuhQ_s9M5z8e8/s320/IMG_1664+-+Version+2.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">My progress is definitely slow, Oscar the Grouch wouldn’t want to be around me at times here.<span> </span>I still miss home, friends, and family on a daily basis.<span> </span>But instead of just focusing on that I need to remind myself how truly lucky I am to even have the opportunity to meet these people, eat these foods, and be fully immersed in a different culture.<span> </span>I know many of you are praying for me, Mom especially, so thank you for the support and help.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">It is crazy to think how low, shut-off, and home sick I was for the first month.<span> </span>It took being completely separated from my amazing family, friends, and social community to realize how much I really do rely on people.<span> </span>Despite how independent I may think I am, my family and friends truly do provide so much support that I took for granted until now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">No</span><span style="font-size: small;"><b> <span style="font-size: large;">I AM NOT</span></b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>as<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>STRONG</b></span> as a thought, but where there are </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>STRUGGLES</b></span> there is </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>GROWTH</b></span>.<span> </span>It just took that far away country called India to help show me that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">-T </span></div></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-44713691079609760742011-11-17T09:13:00.000-08:002011-11-19T18:24:43.499-08:00This country grows on you - Brooke<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">We've been here over a month and a half. We still talk about America and what were going to do when we get home. Where we're going to eat, where we're going to go, who we're going to see. But we are no where ready to go back to America yet! Today we were talking about how much the people here are growing on us. There are some kids we have each connected with, but mostly we've gotten to know the teachers, and we love em (mostly)! When we first got here, there were some people we weren't so sure about, and didn't really like very much...but to look back at that now, some of it seems pretty ridiculous! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I love how you get to know peoples quirks and little pieces of their personality that make them unique.</span><br />
<div><br />
</div><div>To be honest, during the first week of school, I couldn't tell the difference between half of the women teachers. They all had these difficult names to say and remember and they looked the same with their black hair braided down their backs. I think about it now and their differences are incredibly obvious, how could I have missed them? It's like when you see one of those movies showing a busy street in China where everyone is walking somewhere and they all look like clones of each other. That's kind of how I felt when I arrived in India! In case any of you have ever felt the same, I am here tell you that even though there are things they all say and mannerisms they all do, they are very different from each other. They all look different, sound different, and treat us in different ways.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>I'm glad we get to spend enough time here to really get to know the people who make everything about this place what it is and what we enjoy. It's kind of like people watching on steroids, and I love it! Our 'brothers' and 'sisters' on this campus are truly fascinating.<br />
<br />
-B</div></div></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-9769453960918484762011-11-10T10:10:00.000-08:002011-11-10T10:12:28.670-08:00Weekend in Bangalore!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">This weekend we took a little trip down to Bangalore which is about six hours away by bus. The “Super Luxury” bus leaves at 11 pm and we arrive around 5 am. (Don’t be misled by the term Super Luxury). This is the bounciest road I have experienced here in India so far! At one point, I think Trevor’s head may have hit the ceiling and on the way home I was literally bounced onto the floor. We arrived at 5 am at the bus station and were immediately offered an auto ride to our destination of choice with a small fee of a million dollars because we are rich Americans. We bartered with the guy and got him down to a somewhat reasonable price to take us to Lowry Adventist College where we rented a guest room. At Lowry, we crashed for a few hours and then got up to tackle our first day in this big city! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtid6YzUSvTzGtZAq6QvMVe4DNa3wcbAEaneIsQTkxFEqifzS-8WmWQuntm_saAA3gUzRlpl9PQ3_L4rztmfwg1W6mBJy2U5Kg4-NVJabz8p_eNXbwYnAHJMkfIyz_VyYc3CM54MPj8mEs/s1600/IMG_1347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtid6YzUSvTzGtZAq6QvMVe4DNa3wcbAEaneIsQTkxFEqifzS-8WmWQuntm_saAA3gUzRlpl9PQ3_L4rztmfwg1W6mBJy2U5Kg4-NVJabz8p_eNXbwYnAHJMkfIyz_VyYc3CM54MPj8mEs/s400/IMG_1347.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shekarato!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">The first place we went was Mahatma Gandhi Road, a touristy area that has food, coffee shops, book stores, and all the shopping we could imagine. Our first stop for food was the Mateo Coffea shop which was like a dream come true! They had delicious pictures of coffees and desserts and scrumptious descriptions of pasta dishes and sandwiches lining the multi-paged menu… This place was just about like heaven. We treated ourselves to “Shekerato’s” (their version of a frappeccino) and espresso and enjoyed the nice atmosphere where everyone wasn’t stopping to get a good look at us. It was great!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Zach and Jeff Gilbert arrived soon after and we spent the rest of the day chatting and catching up with them. It was fun to share our stories that were similar in so many ways…ha! We ate at McDonalds and discovered that they have 12 rupee soft serve cones, which is only about 25 cents so we spoiled ourselves on these! Later that night we even went to Pizza Hut and ate some more American food… That day definitely ended with satisfied bellies. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Day two in Bangalore started with breakfast at the local Indian shop next to Lowry College. Here you can get three dosa (similar to crepes or pancakes), puri (I would call these an elephant ear without the sugar), or chappati for 20 rupees. Much cheaper than the American style food in the area! So with our bellies full, we set out for the Iskon Temple where we may have accidently become Hindu. We were ushered through the tourist section and given a card with lines to repeat outloud as we crossed over 108 stepping squares in our bare feet and up into the ‘worship area.’ The phrase consisted of four lines and went something like this, “Hare Krishna Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare Hare, Hare Rama Hare Rama, Rama Rama Hare Hare.” So after 108 repetitions of this, we made it into the temple and even sat down to try and sneak a photo of the golden statues and incense… They confiscated all cameras before we entered, but Zach luckily was able to sneak his in. He got a good picture of our clan (all in matching blue attire, accident ha!). The security seems very tight, but it really isn’t that thorough when it comes to searching… The rest of the temple was a maze of tourist attractions and shops selling coloring books of the gods and snacks. At the end we were given a free bowl of soupy rice that was really good!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After the Iskon, we piled all five of us into the small back seat of the only auto that would allow it to Mantri Square. The auto charges one rate, so the more people there is to split it between the better. We were surprised when most of the auto drivers wouldn’t allow us to put more than three people in because back in Vempalli, they pile six people inside, a few on the back, and some more on the roof! Mantri Square is a huge 5 story mall with a giant food court up top and a supermarket similar to Walmart downstairs. I’m pretty sure I may have experienced culture shock in that supermarket. Or maybe it was just because I was overwhelmed trying to look at every single item they had for sale to make sure it wasn’t something I needed to buy and take back to school with me. Ha! Probably the most exciting part of this mall was the fact that they had a Taco Bell (although I didn’t have any, the boys tell me the burritos didn’t quite measure up, but it was still a little taste of home!) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMJZOUTBXJPymcvB66oSff5GtUx93EdhtKsgAun39R3i9vMvyGP9U6vAYjeXz1hyLhxCSWcvKlzFxNOU6bvrpLny1LbwlIqE7WugtY8oLn7JOeyIstMKVh0IWhwR3TkAoqREd1x4etg7k/s1600/P1030585+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMJZOUTBXJPymcvB66oSff5GtUx93EdhtKsgAun39R3i9vMvyGP9U6vAYjeXz1hyLhxCSWcvKlzFxNOU6bvrpLny1LbwlIqE7WugtY8oLn7JOeyIstMKVh0IWhwR3TkAoqREd1x4etg7k/s320/P1030585+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sketchy photo of the Palace<br />
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</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">From Mantri Square, we walked about 30 minutes up to the Bangalore Palace and tried to snag a few photos and avoid the guards with their whistles. Then we found an auto who would give us a free ride back to MG road if only he could take us to one shop for 5-10 minutes. This is the scam that many of the auto and taxi drivers try to trick tourists into. If they can get tourists to go to these several different shops with WAY over priced souvenirs, they get a 30% off gas card, or something like that. They are so desperate for these things that they will even drive you somewhere for free just so they can get it! So we got our free ride, all five in one auto once again, back to MG road and spent the rest of our night hanging out there at the shops. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We were pretty tired after that busy day, so Sunday we took it easy. We met a nice western guy at our favorite Mateo Coffea place who was from LA and had only been in India for three days. He is part of the Watson program where you are given a yearly salary and told to go travel anywhere in the world that you have never been and study some topic of your interest for a year. During this year you aren’t supposed to work or go to school, just simply learn! He had previously been in London for 3 months and now he would be spending 3 months in Bangalore, and his next stop was Australia. He was a real interesting guy! He had even heard of Walla Walla University. I love meeting new people that have something small in common with you in an unfamiliar place.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXsYAHJeetfGqiejVxYQDEjA1OgVjx75RWnF0oC2qdhCBQW4U30dpQhy0SSSXDaW2GAsEk__Mx5gHXsIvifPu5MCZKwr64gK6CUFnf0eErPerELnNMT2Zf1NJ38G7bxAJrVXutR9Tzw2R/s1600/P1030623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXsYAHJeetfGqiejVxYQDEjA1OgVjx75RWnF0oC2qdhCBQW4U30dpQhy0SSSXDaW2GAsEk__Mx5gHXsIvifPu5MCZKwr64gK6CUFnf0eErPerELnNMT2Zf1NJ38G7bxAJrVXutR9Tzw2R/s320/P1030623.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cubbon Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Zach and Jeff had to take off for their train back to Nuzvid around noon, so we went to Cubbon Park and relaxed there for a while and did some more exploring and walking around that area. It was nice to just take it easy. Our bus was leaving that night at 10:30 pm. Before we left, we treated ourselves to a great meal (unfortunately mine left me sick as a dog for the whole six hours of bumps back home) and made it to the bus station to experience something else completely new. The bus station was so packed with buses that all seemed to be itching to get out of there and were slowly creeping and honking at one other toward the main exit. There was no organization. There was a platform with a number, but this number really had nothing to do with where your bus was! It was completely random. In Sid’s words, “This must be what it is like to be on the Amazing Race.” Thankfully all the people who work there roam through the buses and each one stopped us to ask which bus we were looking for. After being led around by several different official looking people for 10-15 minutes, we were finally directed toward the correct bus and took off for our bouncy ride home! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Our trip to Bangalore was fun and refreshing! This modern city reminded us of the many things we have at home and it was fun to get out of the normal weekend routine and experience a different part of India. But when it all comes down to it, we were very relieved to be back in our home on Monday morning. Somehow the big, bustling city made the quiet farmlands of Andhra Pradesh seem more inviting, and it was a good feeling to be back!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Z35_EXTM3CX9UIQY4TJWjBRP_NCLSfBWXJhqLWserVvUrUlapl9NlrN1nIzAPNxJ1fsBWaKZ7CfR5eLyzuIKPfV-JZzIBa4MeTbUV07ECKy1-WoU2VcT-NVzOmGS7aP_XwyEoNZPp91I/s1600/P1030568+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Z35_EXTM3CX9UIQY4TJWjBRP_NCLSfBWXJhqLWserVvUrUlapl9NlrN1nIzAPNxJ1fsBWaKZ7CfR5eLyzuIKPfV-JZzIBa4MeTbUV07ECKy1-WoU2VcT-NVzOmGS7aP_XwyEoNZPp91I/s320/P1030568+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Auto ride!</td></tr>
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</div></div>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2382202576753867459.post-53436331010930115982011-11-10T09:01:00.000-08:002011-11-10T09:01:30.269-08:00India#8 - Brooke Updates Us in Bangalore<iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ynar23JehPk?fs=1" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" width="480"></iframe>TrevSid&Brookehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07993819820739370014noreply@blogger.com0