Boeuf Bourguignon

A few years ago there was that really popular movie out about Julia Child.  I loved the movie.  Read the book.  It was ok. Read Julia's Memior.  LOVED it.  In fact, I have had a minor obsession with watching her video's on youtube over the past year.



This one has been my most recent obsession.  Yesterday, I took the plunge and made it.

By the end of dinner I was licking my plate.  Face-in-bowl-licking.  Extremely dignified.  As always.

It was really that good.  And so easy to make. 

I am thinking fish next...any ideas where I might find swordfish? 

Tea and Books

There are three terms in the Japanese school year.  The first term begins in April and goes until the July, the second from September to December, and the third from January to March.  We have just finished the school year.

There are two week breaks between the second and third and third and first terms and a six(ish) week break between the second and third.   We are in the break between school years right now.  This break could not have come at a better time.

Last week we had an incredible trip across Japan with visiting family.  Before that I had a terrible cold.  Before that I was doing on online class in addition to work, before that we were in India.  It's been a whirlwind the past few months.

And now...I can breathe.

I am drinking lots of tea (this amazing German fruit tea-so good) and reading lots of books.  Things I feel are good for the soul. 

I also hope to finish writing about India and move onto writing about other adventures.  Photo editing and adventure writing-here I come!

Here is a delicious picture for fun-a salmon salad that Karl made for me a few weeks ago.  (Am I a lucky lady or what!?)

I'm Still Here

Well. 

Here we are.  So much for the “get the India experience on the blog by the end of January” goal. 

So much for the end of February….and March.

But here I am.

I am one of those people that is constantly setting goals for myself.  You should see my planner notebook…it gets ridiculous.  (Am I the only person that writes down something I have already completed just to simply have the satisfaction of crossing something off immediately?...I didn’t think so. )

So the goal about blogging about my experience in India in a timely fashion did not happen.  Life happened.  Other things got in the way.  Like online classes, horrible colds, and trips. 

But here I am.

So…where was I?

Oh yes.  Chevuru…

The memories of working in Chevuru have all to quickly begun to amalgamate into a lump of nostalgia.  The smiles of the children resonate in my memory.  I have forgotten how weary my body felt from the work and shock of travel. 

When we arrived in Chevuru to the tears and smiles of the people, I had no idea what to expect.  I knew we were there to work.  And work we did.

Our work fell into two categories:

1)    Helping to build physical homes for people.  This meant you were doing one of the following: mixing cement, pouring cement, or passing cement (or sometimes bricks).   That was it.  Pure grunt work, baby.  It was great.  

2)    The second type of work found us in the village whenever we were not sweating profusely and covered with cement dust…usually in the form of small children.  We played with them.  Talked with them.  Visited their homes and families.  Took photos.  Smiled.  Laughed.  Loved.

The four of us volunteers spread ourselves as thinly as possible throughout the village, attempting in vain to oblige every invitation for chai.  The evenings were crowded by smiling faces with a unquenchable thirst for our company.  One such evening we were invited to teach an English lesson in a small building next to the protestant church.

The village children crammed into the one room school house lit by a single long fluorescent light affixed to a wall. The stark blue light reached as far as it could, but still left the far corners of the room unlit.  Nobody cared.  Their bright eyes shone through the dimly lit room, eagerly awaiting entertainment.

We played some games.  The children soaked them up like sponges. 

When we finished, we each took turns speaking to the children, encouraging them to study hard in school.  Although their English level is relatively good, Ravi translated into their native Telugu.  It was heartening to see how eagerly they listened to our messages. 

And though we were exhausted every evening we left the village, we were always excited to return the next day.  

One Year Passed

March 11, 2012

One year passed. 

The bassoonist swayed lyrically to and fro as his part soared from his instrument.  The texture he created deftly joined the other timbres of the orchestra, creating a most intricate musical lace.  Each individual voice perfectly matched and blended.  

The orchestra breathed together.  They created an aural ecstasy that swelled through the air in waves of crescendos and decrescendos.  But despite the perfection and bliss of the music itself, I was particularly moved by the perfect silences. 

The second movement of Dvorak’s New World Symphony is one of the most sublime pieces of music ever written.  Emotions course through piece to the climax, not in a tremendous swell of the entire orchestra as in the final movement of the symphony, but rather in gentle, tender silences amidst a quartet of strings.

As I sat in the auditorium, bathing in the aural bliss of the Prague Philharmonic last Saturday, I could not help but let my mind wander back…back to a year ago this very weekend.

A year ago, this weekend found Karl and I cuddled up in our apartment permanently attached to the internet talking to family and friends.  Desperately reading the news.  The massive earthquake and subsequent tsunami and nuclear disaster had just occurred.   

As I listened to the orchestra, I reflected on the past year.  How quickly time has passed.  Mozart, Beethoven, and Dvorak accompanied my thoughts…creating a kind of tangibility to my feelings.  The delights of Beethoven’s Pastoral symphony reminded me of the beauty of the Japanese spring.  That despite the tragedies of those events, Japan still sprung into a stunningly beautiful season-full of blossoms. 

The people of Japan have remained strong and hopeful.  One year passed finds the disaster areas well on their way to recovery.  And still, we remember those lost and those who lost...homes, loved ones, lives. 

In the perfect silence, we remember, reflect, rebuild.

Tuesday December 27th, 2011

So you know that feeling…the one of being somewhere you have never been before.  Somewhere that should be completely unfamiliar.  Somewhere that should challenge your regular way of life. 

The scenery, weather, culture and language are all new.

And yet…you feel right at home.

This is what Chevuru village felt like.  From the moment we first stepped out of the car on the first day, I had a feeling that I was exactly where I needed to be.

Our small group of four volunteers fell into a loose routine:

The day began with breakfast at our hotel in Gudivada.  Traditional Indian breakfast (or peanut butter bread and granola bars for those with stomachs refusing to cooperate with curry) was delicious.  This was my favorite breakfast:

After breakfast, we embarked on our half hour drive to Chevuru.  This drive was one of my favorite parts of the day.  Gawking out the window at the unfamiliar, asking Ravi question after question, listening to the same CD of current Bollywood hits…it never got old. (Find out more about these two movies: Bodyguard and Business Man.)

When we arrived in Chevuru, the children immediately sensed our presence and hunted us down.  Many of the children were fortunately on Christmas vacation from school.  

After arriving, we were treated to a cup of chai made from the milk of a water buffalo.  Mmmm.  I miss that chai. 

And then, the work would begin:

Building walls, mixing cement, passing concrete, passing bricks, returning concrete trays.  Back and forth.  Back and forth. Much more on this later.

Then one of the best times of the day: lunch time.

After lunch, we would either work more, play with the children or visit the homes of villagers.  All of these tasks-we were repeatedly assured by Ravi-were equally important. 

Visiting the homes of villagers was impossible to avoid.  This is because the children would drag you there whether you wanted to go or not.  The opportunity to serve and give hospitality to people who will accept it gratefully is not something these people get to do very often.

As volunteers who traveled to Chevuru to help and give to those in need, learning to accept the hospitality without guilt was our own personal challenge.  How could we accept these gifts knowing full well that those giving have next to nothing?  

We had countless discussions among us four volunteers regarding this matter.  Ravi helped us by giving us the view of the people: joy at being able to give a stranger hospitality that would not be met with scorn.

For myself, it was an incredible feeling that doing something as simple as accepting a delicious cup of tea could be so meaningful to someone.

Sometimes the smallest gestures can truly carry the most meaning.

This gracious woman took us to her home and offered us coconut water. 

Monday December 26th, 2011

 

They were waiting for us, all gathered about the brightly painted house just across from the church.  Curious eyes strained to get a look at us as we came to a stop.  We stepped out of the car and into an embrace we will not soon forget.

Joy and gratitude emanated from the faces of the people as they draped enormous flower garlands about our necks.  A tiny old woman reached up to my face and took it in her hands.  Her eyes stared into mine, saying so much more than words could ever hope to. 

The exuberance of the children flowed forth in an inextinguishable current.  Wonder and excitement beamed from their faces.

Ravi translated into the native language of Telugu as we took turns introducing ourselves, amidst laughter, tears, and applause.

As the introductions concluded, we were each bombarded with curiosity in the form of small children.  A cart pulled by two water buffalo was riding by; the children pulled us on board to go for a ride. 

After our short ride with the water buffalo, we were invited for chai.  This was our first daily morning cup of tea.  Afterwards, we would begin our work in helping rebuild Chevuru.

This village called Chevuru would become our home and steal our hearts over the following ten days. 

Chevuru is a small place in the countryside of the Indian state, Andrah Paradesh.  It lies fewer than 20 kilometers from the coast of the Indian Ocean.  Palm trees and fields surround the village.

The history of Chevuru is very long, though I am afraid I do not recall specifics.  A very long time ago, only Dalit people lived there.  They were their own community.  During that time, most people had to travel by foot.  Thus traveling far distances took a long time and, naturally, stopping frequently for water and rest was a necessity.

Because Chevuru was only home to Dalits, upper caste people refused to accept their “untouchable” hospitality when passing through on a journey.  So some upper caste families came to live in Chevuru in order that other upper caste members could stop and receive refreshment when passing through. 

These wealthier upper caste people were able to purchase much of the land surrounding Chevuru.  More and more of them moved into Chevuru, on either side of the Dalit area creating a sort of “sandwich” of a village.

The Dalit people there face the type of discrimination that is dictated by the caste in which they are born.  This means that they must work extremely hard in order to achieve opportunities that others might take for granted.  They are only hired to do the jobs no one else wants to do-some of which are seasonal.

Unfortunately, the Dalit people also face uncertainty in regards to their homes.  Sturdy materials such as wood and cement are expensive and far out of reach for the meager earnings of a Dalit family.  Most homes are built using mud, straw, and palm fronds.

As one might imagine, these are not very sturdy homes.  Especially so when it comes to the annual rainy season, monsoons, and typhoons.  Rebuilding homes is almost an annual necessity for these people.  They must use precious time-time they should be working to build a better future for them and their families. 

The volunteer work that Go Longitude and ARV coordinate does so much more for these people than simply provide them with sound homes.  Watch this video (it's of a CNN team working in Chevuru) for a tiny peek at the work that has already been completed and that continues.  

This is another good video showing the work Go Longitude and ARV are doing:

More to come...

Sunday December 25th, 2011 (Christmas Day in India)

Christmas lights and a hibiscus flower for decor.

Christmas morning found us making our way back to the airport. 

Santa had not found his way to our hotel room.  Oh well.

While waiting for our flight, we soothed our pangs of hunger with some Indian style Subway.  I had the masala paneer sub, Karl the tandoori chicken.  They were both delicious.

The flight was a quick two hours to Hyderabad followed by thirty minutes waiting on the plane while some passengers got off and others got on.   Our destination of Vijayawada was only another half hour of flying. 

We landed in Vijayawada and stepped off of the plane into the warmest Christmas I have ever experienced.  A bus took us from the plane to the baggage claim area: a room with a guy tossing in luggage from the flight and people chaotically searching for their belongings.  We successfully retrieved our suitcase and walked outside.

Waiting for us just past the door was a man named Ravi Kumar.

Ravi works for a non-profit human rights group called the Association of Relief Volunteers, or ARV.  ARV coordinates with the organization Go Longitude-a website that organizes volunteers and fundraising events for ARV as well as a for a program called Educate Ghana.  (Please click on this link to find out how you can get involved!)

“Merry Christmas!  Thank you so much for giving your precious time to be here!”

Every Christmas, Ravi likely says these words to the new group of volunteers.  Over the past several years he has worked with more than 400 volunteers.  The vast majority of these volunteers are people on the JET program, teaching English in Japan.  There is good reason for this:

After the catastrophic Boxing Day tsunami of 2004, Ravi was helping with the relief effort.  This is when he met another volunteer who happened to be a teacher on the JET program.  They formed a connection, which has turned into three annual volunteer trips to India.  These three annual trips correspond with three breaks in the Japanese school years, ideal for JET teachers.

In fact, that is how Karl and I first heard about the trips.  Two of our good friends had gone previous years and were strongly encouraging us to participate.  So we did.

As we drove away from the airport, (I was SO happy to be done flying) Ravi explained that we were on our way to one of the homes of an ARV employee.  We would meet the other two volunteers there and have our Christmas dinner before driving another hour to our hotel.

The first of many cups of chai.  So delicious!

Coconut filled sweets

Can't remember what these were called, but they were so delicious!

Karl is excited to be eating.

Christmas dinner!

The family who graciously provided Christmas dinner for us.

Ready to get to our hotel after a couple days of travel.

And finally…we could rest.  The next day would be our first in the village.