Coorg Light
We got back yesterday from a trip to the region of Coorg. Someone apparently told Mother Nature that Americans were coming, and she decided to unleash the remanants of monsoon season on us. Despite that, it was pretty cool seeing an old Hindu temple on top of a mountain in the mist and rain.
The not so cool part came when I got back to the entrance of the temple and discovered that I had forgotten to put my sneakers under shelter. They were completely soaked. I had to purchase the World's Most Uncomfortable Flip Flops in Coorg as a temporary replacement. Apparently the selection of footwear in a size 12 is rather limited in this country.
Despite that fiasco, we made up for it the next day. After spending the first part of the day washing, feeding, and riding elephants (details to follow), we went to a Tibetan community about a half hour away from there. We were lucky enough to get into the monastery and sit in on some sort of Buddhist ritual. There were about 150 monks in training sitting at long tables and rythmically chanting something in a language none of us could identify (Pali?). Every so often someone would crash two cymbals together, or blow a horn. We also got to see one trainee, who couldn't have been older than 15, get whacked with a belt for slipping up at one point. We watched for about 20 minutes, and who knows how long this had been going on before we got there? I don't think I'll be tempted by the monk lifestyle anytime soon.
As for the elephants, it turns out they can move more stealthily than you might imagine. I almost got rear-ended by one down by the banks of the river. We got to wash them (their skin feels like very tough leather; apparently a tiger can't bite through it) and ride them. Some people fed them, but I have a strict policy against sticking my hand into the mouth of any creature than can kill me by stepping on me.
Now we're back in Mysore to continue this crazy "school" thing they expect us to do.
Reading Sarah's comments about constantly feeling like an outsider, it's pretty much the exact same thing here. Whenever I go out, I either get stared at or laughed at. It doesn't help that Indians tend to dress up more than we do. I feel like a total slob whenever I wear a t-shirt.
Most of the white people that come through this region are French, according to Brodkin, so not many native speakers of English. Pretty much everyone wants to practice their English with me as soon as they realize I'm a native speaker. This can be irritating sometimes, but cool at others. I had an interesting conversation with a guy in Coorg about the differences between American and British accents, which are apparently indistinguishable to Indians.
And now the suspense of pressing the "publish" button and hoping it actually works. Drumroll...
The not so cool part came when I got back to the entrance of the temple and discovered that I had forgotten to put my sneakers under shelter. They were completely soaked. I had to purchase the World's Most Uncomfortable Flip Flops in Coorg as a temporary replacement. Apparently the selection of footwear in a size 12 is rather limited in this country.
Despite that fiasco, we made up for it the next day. After spending the first part of the day washing, feeding, and riding elephants (details to follow), we went to a Tibetan community about a half hour away from there. We were lucky enough to get into the monastery and sit in on some sort of Buddhist ritual. There were about 150 monks in training sitting at long tables and rythmically chanting something in a language none of us could identify (Pali?). Every so often someone would crash two cymbals together, or blow a horn. We also got to see one trainee, who couldn't have been older than 15, get whacked with a belt for slipping up at one point. We watched for about 20 minutes, and who knows how long this had been going on before we got there? I don't think I'll be tempted by the monk lifestyle anytime soon.
As for the elephants, it turns out they can move more stealthily than you might imagine. I almost got rear-ended by one down by the banks of the river. We got to wash them (their skin feels like very tough leather; apparently a tiger can't bite through it) and ride them. Some people fed them, but I have a strict policy against sticking my hand into the mouth of any creature than can kill me by stepping on me.
Now we're back in Mysore to continue this crazy "school" thing they expect us to do.
Reading Sarah's comments about constantly feeling like an outsider, it's pretty much the exact same thing here. Whenever I go out, I either get stared at or laughed at. It doesn't help that Indians tend to dress up more than we do. I feel like a total slob whenever I wear a t-shirt.
Most of the white people that come through this region are French, according to Brodkin, so not many native speakers of English. Pretty much everyone wants to practice their English with me as soon as they realize I'm a native speaker. This can be irritating sometimes, but cool at others. I had an interesting conversation with a guy in Coorg about the differences between American and British accents, which are apparently indistinguishable to Indians.
And now the suspense of pressing the "publish" button and hoping it actually works. Drumroll...
posted by Jake at 9:40 AM
1 Comments:
Awful joke...just awful...
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