The Silent Walk

All Senior School Hike Day held during spring semester each year gives students at Woodstock many choices.  Faculty come up with the ideas… a history walk of local historical sites; a literature walk where students read exerpts along the way; a drawing walk where students stop and draw a scene.  There was also the physically challenging walk, the tour of religious sites walk, etc.  My idea was “the Silent Walk” in which students would vow not to speak during the entire day except to share their impressions once we reached our destination, Pepper Pot Cave about 6 kilometers out Tehri Road and up a hill.   Some faculty said “good luck” if you can get the kids to keep quiet for that long!  I myself wondered if any kids would sign up and I urged the organizers not to assign the silent walk to anyone who didn’t choose it. 

So I was pleasantly surprised when on the morning of the walk three faculty and I set off with 21 students under a clear blue sky at 9 am.  They knew the rules:  no talking, remain mindful, and try to still your thoughts as well.  At the very least, observe your thoughts as they arise.  Once we get to our destination we will have time to write in our journals, to share thoughts in a circle, then go back into silence while we eat our lunch, spend time in nature and then walk back.   

Here are some photos taken along the way:

After hiking for about 2 hours with a few breaks, we climbed straight up the side of a hill...

and reached the little “Pepperpot Cave!”  Once upon a time it was the rage to see how many kids could fit inside a telephone booth (remember those?). We thought we would see how many of us could fit inside the cave:   It was fun to cram in there, and take photos all the while remaining silent!:

After this everyone was given time to write down impressions.  Of course many of the boys never even brought a notebook!  After a half hour, we shared some reflections.  Most students remained silent while a few shared their impressions, including the heightened awareness of the bird calls and other sounds of nature around them. 

Priyankar, a student, read a poem he had written: 

The mama eagle tells the baby eagle to fly but she knows that tomorrow there shall be no wings to fly with. The mountains hide behind the hills. They are shy and want to hide their beauty. As they age they know that they are getting uglier. Their beauty is fading and all they can do is wait. The villagers leave their home to study, to work, to live but the bourgeois invade the villages to see where true beauty resides. It's a paradox, we always want what is beyond the Rubicon. The idols in the temple are lonely, they are falling apart, awaiting for their priest to come, but their prayers shall remain unanswered for eternity. The springs are silent but the birds are singing. The clouds are dancing but they have no rain. The trees are growing but they have no roots. And I just watch, in silence, without a thing to do. Priyankar Chand Then Ed Beavan, one of the faculty read his poem as well: Donkeys braying, Some of us praying, Little puppy yelping, As we start our walk. Jabbarkhet bustling, Crisp packets rustling, Birds crowing, Nature growing around us as we walk, Huffing and puffing, And the clomping, stomping of our feet. Constant sniffing, and whiffing, of the mountain air, Coughing, spluttering, watching birds fluttering, Before we end up at the caveman's lair. All of us enjoying the beauty and silence, Away from the violence, and hustle and bustle Of everyday life. All this, with my beautiful wife. But at the same time, Some of us want to shout, cry out! But why? Why? When silence is so golden, Looking out on the snowy peaks beholden. Ed Beavan Wish you could hear him read it with his great English accent!  Ed is a journalist from England, newly married to Kristen Bradby, our director of admissions and like me, new to Woodstock.  He cracked us up at the new faculty orientation when he asked if his paycheck could be deposited in his wife’s account.  I blurted out “What country are YOU from?”   Having this young couple, so much in love in our midst just brightens everything at Woodstock…  I too could not resist writing a poem in such a fantastic setting.  I had spent the walk alternating between being totally present with the sun in my face and worrying about what the kids were up to, namely whether they were talking or not, and then reminding myself that I am not “in charge” really.  They will or they won’t take advantage of the experience!  So I looked out at the scene, and saw the beautiful snow caps of the distant mountains and felt I was blessed to catch this glimpse of another world.  No wonder some of the early Theosophists simply disappeared into the Himalayas… literally! Did some of the students talk?  Of course.  I had to remind some of the boys that they had signed up for the experience, no one had forced them, and then they settled down to enjoy the moment: In the end, we walked back in silence and stopped once more in a little village to take a group photo. The Silent Walk My instructions encircle them Like a straightjacket For their impulses An opening lens Into their unformed souls. Don’t buy that product Purchase instead with silence Your freedom from having to be Anything in anyone else’s eyes. Walking the path Waving down the other With our habitual kicking Arm thrashing And murmured smiles Even in the presence of the Great Expanse. Maybe it is too much for us, this Threatening vastness, this Terrifying detail of beauty. We would rather be small In our everyday comfort Of needless words Mindless thoughts Dreaming us into a better future Of their making. The Escape of silence We must tell ourselves Is Not a death of self But the beginning of Life as we have never known it. Roxanne Gupta 3/1/12

 

Living History

It was my good fortune in Delhi to pick up a book at my friend Vikram’s house called The Raja of Harsil: The Legend of Frederick “Pahari” Wilson at breakfast one morning. I started reading and could not stop, for as it turns out, it was the true story of an Englishman who lived in Mussoorie, the town I am now living in.   I love history… not just the kind I teach in my class, but most of all the local history wherever I go.  Vikram wasn’t done with it so I had to get my hands on it here.  After savoring every page for the past week or so, last night I finished it.  What a story! 

Frederick Wilson, a working class Brit, mutinied from the British army during the Afghan war in 1842 and arrived in Mussoorie soon after.  He could not stay among the British because if he were found out, he would be hanged.  So circumstance led him to retreat further up into the Himalayas where he settled in Harsil, a village near Gangotri, the source of the Ganges. 

The book describes how relying on his wit and hard work, he married two village women and built a lumber empire for himself in order to supply the British with sleepers for the new railroad being built from one side of India to the other.  In doing so he became one of the richest men in India.  It is said that Rudyard Kipling based his book The Man Who Would be King on Wilson. 

Earning the name “Pahari” or mountain man, Wilson also became an expert ornithologist and huntsman.  Unfortunately the ecological awareness of the British was next to nil. They plundered the countryside not only of trees but of wildlife of every kind, hunting deer, bear, tigers, and countless rare birds which are now extinct.  Pahari Wilson was himself a taxidermist, another gruesome British pastime and I believe some of his specimens were shipped to the British Museum. 

Throughout the 1800’s Wilson worked behind the scenes for British intelligence and played major roles in preventing the Russian annexation of India, something we forget was a distinct possibility prior to WWI;  as well as the protection of Mussoorie and Garhwal during the “mutiny” of 1857.  In this way his prior military record was wiped clean.   While like today’s billionaires, he used creative accouting to hide his assets abroad, on the positive side he became a patron of many local families and businesses here in Mussoorie.  Many of the old familiar landmarks of Mussoorie appear in the book and now when I walk past St. Paul’s Church in Landour (where his son married) or the Himalaya Club Hotel (the old British Club where once my mother-in-law and I shared a room) I can’t help but have “Jewel in the Crown” flashbacks.

It seems that Kapil and his father visited Pahari Wilson’s stone and deodar “palace” in Harsil before it burnt accidentally in 1997.  I also remember reading in Paul Brunton’s  Hermit in the Himalayas that he stayed in Wilson’s forest guesthouse at Batwara and heard some stories about him then, only about 50 years after his death.   I am wondering if Harsil was the village where Kapil and I spent the night sleeping in a stable while returning from Gangotri back in 1989.

Reading local historical accounts I cannot help but feel the layers of history beneath my feet.   It makes me want to know more.   So last night, returning in a taxi from the other side of the mountain I was telling my friend Amy about the book and saying to her that I would like to know where one of his estates was located down near the mall.  The taxi driver, a local named Banti, piped up with the answer.  Surprised, I asked him how he knew and he told me he had been a research assistant to the author of the book!  He proceeded to offer more details and by the time I got out, he had agreed to take me around one day to show me the sites mentioned in the book and to introduce me to the author when he is next in town.   

To top it off I already had an appointment today to spend the afternoon at Rokeby Manor, the house that Pahari Wilson built for his family in Landour… just up the mountain from me!  They say it was his favorite home. Now it has been beautifully restored by Mumbai Hotelier Sanjay Narang, into a charming boutique hotel, and restaurant complete with a beauty salon. I had made an appointment to get my hair done in Pahari Wilson’s back yard!

I have always loved Rokeby ever since Kapil and I stayed there when he was a student at Woodstock.  I came up for parent’s weekend and everything was booked so I had no choice but to stay at this moth-eaten, damp old English guesthouse that had fallen into disrepair.  Kapil agreed to stay with me in the “haunted house.”  He was in his “Edgar Allan Poe” stage and kept reciting ominous poetry during the solemn candlelit supper served by an old man in British servant’s dress.  Dinner was boiled peas and potato cutlet.  We were the only guests and retired to the library after dinner where I remember a plethora of musty old missionary books and hymnals.  Bedtime was torture.  We got into the twin beds to find them soaking wet.  It is a wonder we survived the night without contracting pneumonia. The next day we were moved upstairs where we opened the windows to let some fresh air circulate and dry out the room.  Those were the same windows, now restored, next to which I sat and ate my dinner today.

The transformation of Rokeby Manor is remarkable.  After getting my hair done I spent some time in the sitting room next to the open fire and then went upstairs to the restaurant where I enjoyed delicious European dishes cooked to perfection.  The hotel is warm and homey, informal yet elegant in the mountain atmosphere.  It now tops of my list of favorites in India, up there with the Carlton in Calcutta and Samodh Palace of Rajasthan.  Sitting at Rokeby looking out over the hills, I am reminded that I share this place, this town, this very spot with Pahari Wilson, with Kapil as a boy, with my own younger incarnation and a vast network of souls, countless others who are separated from us only by time.  We are all living and making history every moment of our lives.

The view from Rokeby

at the fireplace at Rokeby

Rokeby

  

HOME SWEET OM

OR:  How to Transform a Himalayan Cottage into a Sweet Retreat

When I first stepped into this place not quite a month ago, I thought to myself “Well at least there are lots of windows in this entrance room!  Then I realized that the room I had entered IS the main room of the cottage.  Since I am living alone, that too was fine with me, less room to heat!  But the condition of the cottage was quite poor as it had not been lived in for sometime.  It had no water (pipes were broken), no wood for the rusty old “Bukhari” (woodstove),  no glass in the kitchen window and no telephone to call for HELP! 

But within a few days Woodstock School, the owners of this “staff house” got several of the above items fixed so that my survival needs were met (including an internet hook-up pronto).  Of course from day one, the main thing on my mind was the aesthetics.  Although I am only here for a limited time (on a one semester replacement position) I knew that it would drive me crazy NOT to make it into a comfortable and cozy den.   Since I am here to teach, I also knew I would spend the next six months redecorating the place in my head, distracting me from my main purpose.  So there was nothing left to do but get to it.  

Since my earliest penniless years I have prided myself on being able to decorate on a severely limited budget.  In America I frequented second hand shops, auctions, yard sales and friends and relatives’ barns, attics and basements (with their permission of course) to procure both attractive and useful components.  I opened a vegetarian restaurant called The New Delhi when I was only 23 years old and everything in it except the paisley wallpaper was recycled.  Everyone commented on the day that it opened that it looked like it had been there forever.  Later, the country house in which my son grew up was similarly furnished, combining like myself, elements of both east and west… mostly from inexpensive Indian artifacts (some of which, like our Madhubani and Pichwai paintings as well as South Indian Kalamkaris have in the meantime gone up in value) combined with locally affordable antiques. 

More recently I was able to indulge my propensity for decorating on a budget (although a slightly higher budget than years ago) when I opened along with my partner David, Cayuga Sunrise Holistic Haven, a Yoga Bed and Breakfast in the Finger Lakes region of upstate NY.   This time the theme is American/French Country with a splash of Indian New Age.  You can check it out at http://www.cayugasunrise.com  Although technically speaking I could now afford to buy more expensive furniture and accessories, I actually PREFER to stick to recycling.  Not only is it ecologically more responsible, it is immensely more fun and whatever you come up with is bound to be original.  

So after taking care of a 6 bedroom, 6 bathroom 80 acre estate, my small place here feels like heaven...  especially now that I have transformed it, for less than $200. Into a peaceful little abode.  I decided to post the before and after pictures and describe what I did and spent…

Here is the BEFORE PHOTO:

Note the bare light bulbs and "cage" around the stove!

First I got rid of the cage which I guess was designed to keep kids away from the stove.  I stashed it in the backyard.  Then I move the single bed from what is now my "yoga room" into the living room. That was a blast... see my earlier blog.  It also means I don't have to sleep in a freezing room every night.  The bed now doubles as an Indian style "couch" since I got the bolsters and pillows made... not an easy job, involving hiking several miles to a tailor, a mattress maker, and carting all of them back up the hill.   

 The beautiful hand loom fabrics, the off white soft rug, hand loom bedcover and pillows all come from the Kurukshetra Mandal Leprosy Rehab center in Dehra Dun, the city at the bottom of our hills.  They were inexpensive and proceeds went to an excellent cause.  I also got the fabric for the door curtains, the table runner and grey throw rug at the same place.  I chose colors that would match the curtains that were already here.  The total for ALL these came to $60. :

   

Add some rather EXPENSIVE ($16. for both) paper lamp shades from FAB INDIA:

Some beautiful Kashmiri white embroidery on white wool curtains (can't see the details in these photos but worth every penny at $55. for two, including tailor costs..hemmed them myself):

And lastly to tie it all together, this stunning hand embroidered Kashmiri Wool Rug wall hanging in the Tree of Life Motif:

Cost:  $60. 

Add a few little accessories like this Handmade Parchesi game (on sale at Fab India for $5.) and incense holder ($1.)

Learn to Ignore this (except when it's cold):

And put it all together:

A new and more peaceful atmosphere!  

Wish you were here,

Roxanne

Woodstock!

Woodstock School is a VERY special place!  Last week we had a Staff Retreat all week and it was like taking a crash course in education with amazing presentations and discussions, skits, songs, morning devotions, dinners, teas, and great fellowship. There is a real sense of community among a staff that harkens from all over the world and is nearly as diverse as the student body.  The new principal Jonathan Long, who never ceases to amaze with his repertoire of inspiring stories and profound humor, seems to have struck a hopeful tone with everyone here. 

   Nonetheless I felt a bit nervous to enter a classroom for the first time in 8 years.  I kept hearing “wait till you meet the students…our students are the best!” but I guess I had to see it to believe it.

    Well I am happy to report that the kids ARE great!  I have students from India, Nepal, Thailland, Bhutan, Tibet, Italy, America and Australia.  I teach 4 to 5 classes a day, two study halls, an advisory group and homeroom on a very confusing rotating 7 day schedule.  I have been consulting my computer between classes and running from room to room barely making it in before the bell rings.  I begged the students’ pardon for butchering some of their names, but it seems we are going to get along just fine.

    Just as everyone said it would, it snowed and turned much colder just after the students returned. So the first day of classes everyone was bundled up and sharing stories of frozen pipes on the hillside.  The sky was uncharacteristically grey and people were carrying hot water bottles into class.  You see the school is not heated except for a “bukhari” or rusty undersized woodstove in the back of every room.  So we conduct classes with ski jackets and mittens on, with the tips of the fingers cut out for typing. 

   The good news is everyone’s addiction here to caffeine and cake.  Tea break for students and teachers is from 10:50 to 11 am  everyday and the high school faculty all meet in the lounge at that time as well as at lunch, and for most of us who have signed up for the meal plan, at breakfast as well.  Unlike the colleges I taught at, faculty here share stories of their students and classroom successes freely and there is an amazing sense of comraderie.  Perhaps it is the non-denominational Christian atmosphere that makes everyone try their best to live up to the ideals they profess.  I have to admit I am enjoying the daily “devotions” which are sometimes presented by students as well as staff.  They are of a general nature related to fostering community, honest, integrity of purpose and so on.  It is a great thing to make our intentions  towards others conscious. 

    The most amazing thing is that most of the students are very keen to learn. They do the readings and most participate in class discussions, although you have to draw out those for whom English is not their first language.  I wonder how much I would speak up in a Bangkok classroom! 

    So I love the teaching… the hard part is getting up in the morning.   Invariably the room is freezing because the fire has gone out and now you have to turn on the hot water heater to take a bath.  I usually go into my little yoga room (in the dark…) to do 12 Surya Namaskars to get the blood flowing, turn on the stove to heat some water so I can drink a couple glasses, heat up my clothes in front of an electric heater I bought, and start to bundle up for the hike down the hill with a backpack full of books. 

   I created my first powerpoint for my Comparative Politics course and also learned how to assign and accept papers online.  Praveen in the library has been great in bringing me up to speed on computer technology in the classroom--a great tool.  All the classrooms here are smart wired and we have high speed internet even in our houses which are accessible only by footpaths.  Nothing like it!  I skyped my friend Jan as well as Kapil and Tara in both Mumbai and the Phillipines on vacation so although I spend a lot of time alone, I never feel lonely.

    Today was assembly and the students put together a video demonstrating kindness towards each other as well as responsibility for keeping the school grounds clean.  They are crazy about their videos and use very imaginative and humorous techniques to get their points across.  In class I was raving about the video and asked “Who makes those?  They are so cool!” and they all pointed to a kid sitting right in my class.  I asked him if he intended to become a filmmaker and he said he doesn’t know, it's just a hobby.  I told him he has a great talent for it and already has quite a portfolio to show prospective schools. 

    Next Friday night is class night and we have a bonfire planned for 10^th graders.  Students are also getting ready for the school musical “Around the World in 80 days” coming up in the spring.  Can't wait! 

     Here is a photo of my very first class on my very first day teaching, 10^th grade world history and a picture of the main hall of the high school.  I am going to attempt to also attach a video from the morning assembly when students performed a song they wrote about the “big bass”.   

      That’s all for now.  Think of me running from class to class, computer in frozen hands.  But most of all think of me with a big smile on my face.  I am having a blast! 

A Mussoorie Sunday

  I had a good Sunday, spent all morning looking at online resources for the courses I will be teaching.  Only have a week to prepare a subject I have never taught--rather challenging!  Then I did yoga, took a bucket bath (where you pour water over yourself out of a bucket using a small mug--if the whole world did this we would save a lot of water!), made a banana shake and walked down to the bazaar with stuff I bought yesterday to decorate my little house.  The School took new staff on a shopping trip to Dehra Dun, down the mountain yesterday and out to lunch in a nice restaurant there.  I particularly liked spending time with Sue, the new principal's wife.  They invited new staff for dinner the night before and I was so impressed with both her and her husband.  He is British and she is South African, both have worked all over the world.   Woodstock School is really lucky to have them here.
   Last night I went to a dinner party at the home of Sanjay, one of Mussoorie's most distinguished citizens whom my son had met in Mumbai.  He lives in a gorgeous place right on top of the hill, only one of his many places around the world, apparently.   It was warm, full of light, interesting international people and delicious food.  Who could ask for more?  Walked down the path late last night and couldn't wait to sleep.  I never started my fire all day yesterday.  

     Back to interior decorating, I must be nuts because I am doing this place up all in off white. Even bought an off white rug!  Crazy but I will be here alone most of the time so I guess it can't get too bad.  So today I took all those materials to the tailor, a 20 minute walk downhill with fantastic views along the way.  Enroute I met famous Mussoorie author Ruskin Bond on the road and said good day to him.  I hope it happens again, I might have time to stop and chat.  Next Saturday the Tailor will have 3 throw pillows, 2 bolsters, two long curtains and two window curtains ready.  I will have to pay him about $15. or so for his work.  

     Then I kept walking down down down till I got to the place in town where I was married (now a parking lot, the house was torn down many years ago) and checked out the shops there, to see how they have changed.  It was a trip down memory lane.  Many more sophisticated shops but many of the old ones are still there too, including the food stalls where Jayant and I used to drink hot milk and eat tikkis-- potato burgers.  

     I kept walking up the hill now to the Kashmir Emporium where I had a ball with the owners, bargaining and generally giving them a hard time.  I bought material for 2 curtains, you won't believe it, white wool with embroidery in white, and he only charged me $12. a yard.!  I dropped it off at the tailor's on the way backup the hill, lightening my load considerably.  I also bought a heavy wool robe to wear at home and a firan, one of those long white wool Kashmiri caftans with embroidery around the neck for $20... left two home, should have brought them!  This new one is white with black embroidery.  I wonder what my white kick is.  At least now I have plenty of clothes to layer.  

    On the way back I stopped for a cup of hot sweet milk with cardomom in the place Jayant used to take me, sitting at a table with some locals.  My vegan diet has gone by the wayside for now but I am not eating eggs.  I It was a long walk up the hill again, took me about an hour from the Mall.  It was great catching the scenes of local life:  some boys playing soccer in the street using old cardboard boxes for goals;  old women sitting in what was left of the sun sorting stones from rice;  some rag pickers who live in makeshift plastic covered sheds by the side of the road sitting around a fire, the father scolding and pulling the hair of a crying young gjrl. I stared at them hoping it would stop but then a man walking his dog behind me began to intervene telling the man "Why are you doing that?  It is wrong!"  as the younger man tried to explain why he was "disciplining" her.   It pays to speak the language in order to know what is going on!  

     From the steep path to my house I could see the sun setting over the town.  It looked so nice in the distance as all the lights began to come on.  Now I am making some lentil soup with potatoes, onions and rosemary.  My fire is going full tilt and my little place on the side of the mountain is warm and beginning to feel like home.

From the Foothills of the Himalayas

Hi Everybody, after an 8 hour taxi ride from Delhi where I spent two days with my environmentalist friend Vikram, I made it to Mussoorie.  A lot has happened so I am copying here the message I wrote my mom a few days back...Things have actually improved since I wrote this, I got my wood stove going and actually have water now...  As I write I can hear a pack of coyotes outside my door howling...yikes, glad I am not on the trail tonight!   

Monday Jan 23:   Am here in the mountains freezing my butt.  Actually it's not that bad during the day, it is about 30 at night and when you sit in the sun it maybe feels like high 40's or so.  It snowed before I came but now most has melted.  Been here 3 days and the place they have put me is a little cottage type thing that resembles the level of a migrant worker's camp.  It has three small bedrooms, a long narrow sitting room with windows all along one side, a kitchen that is not half bad and a bathroom with tiles and a mouldy shower curtain (they said they would give me a new one).  (See photos attached below)  I have had no water from the time I arrived as the pipe had broken. For 2 days no bath, yesterday could not even wash my face.  I made a cup of tea from bottled water and ate peanut butter on white bread.  
   The night I arrived I was surprised to find no electric heater.  There is a rusty small woodstove in the room (who knows when the chimney has been cleaned if ever) and thank god the first night I was there a couple showed up because she wanted to nab me as an employer...Sunita is her name and she will clean for me five days a week, an hour or so a day.  They found me freezing with my coat, hat and boots on trying to unpack.  So right away that night her husband went and got wood and leaves, etc and started up the woodstove so I didn't freeze.  Otherwise I would have just gotten into bed around 7 in order to stay warm. There was not much wood so by morning it was again freezing.  I had to go outside in the sun to warm up. 
     When I woke up and looked out the window there was a family of monkeys on the roof next door staring in at me.  Yesterday I got in wood (many pieces too big to fit in the stove I am afraid) and myself collected a few twigs for kindling.  Today I will try to get some pinecones because the fire won't start with such big chunks.  Anyway one more month of this cold weather and then it will be beautiful.  Just have to survive it... it is not that bad, kind of like camping.  They are fixing my water today and I will be able to turn on the water heaters and have a hot bucket bath.  
  I also plan to buy some rugs, a bedspread and a hanging to brighten up the place. The walls are bare.  I moved my bed into the main room (it will double as a couch although no one will be fooled... just looks like a bed in the room!) and made a little empty room for yoga (wish someone could have filmed that... Sunita the woman who is working for me and me wrestling this heavy bed, we finally had to rope in the plumber.  After several unsuccessful tries to get it around the corner of the narrow hall we had to flip it on end and almost took out the flimsy ceiling.  It was hilarious.)  But now my little yoga room is great.. just big enough for me to do my asanas, it faces due East and the sun comes straight in and warms it up to the point I can do yoga with the window open.  Best of all I am looking over the rooftops to a fantastic view of the valley.  The scenic views are spectacular.  To walk to school I have to go about 25 minutes on something akin to Buttermilk Falls trail down the steep hill.  The uphill walk home takes more time as I can literally feel my heart pumping. But somehow you don't mind all the climbing when everywhere you look it is so beautiful. 
  We walk along the mountain trails to get everywhere.  Last night I was invited to the Wildman's, Dot who teaches religious studies and her husband Peter, the head of development. They have been here 10 years, retired British teachers, and they have transformed their cottage into a beautiful home with TV, stereo, great kitchen, washing machine, etc.  They made veggie lasagna (forget being vegan when you are starving) and soup and I found out he plays guitar and mandolin and all kinds of string instruments.  I showed him David's website. He had not heard of HIpshot but was checking it out, seems like a good musician.  I like Dot very much, she has been so helpful and even lent me a hot water bottle to heat the bed up at night.  After dinner I had to walk home alone along the mountain trails and tried not to get lost. After I got to my door two big dogs ran down the trail. I was glad I didn't meet them on the way.  Monkeys too can be a problem but not at night.  I think they sleep in the trees.  You can hear them settling in around sunset.
   All the people here at the school seem very nice.  I met Amy who is head of academics and we hit it off great.  She told me about the classes I will be teaching and about the kids who sound quite extraordinary.  Everyone raves about them.  Amy knows my son as do some of the others here.  One of his friends told me they have been friends every since Kapil beat him in a class election for class president.  Everyone here is so nice to me, offering if I need anything I can contact them.  Hot shower anyone?  Somehow the idea of showing up at someone's house with my towel and clothes in hand doesn't make a good impression.  I should have hot running water pretty soon. 
  Well that is all for now from the Himalayas.  Here are some photos:  

Inside my main sitting room, this is the "before" photo.  Stay tuned for the "after"!

                                            This is my little house called "Uncle Tom's Cabin" from the outside...  

View when I start down the path to school.  That is the school in the distance...