December finds us packing to take the
Warriors and Goddesses show on the road again.
This time, the boy has meticulously researched and planned our trip
through Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia: flights and visas (argh!!!), accommodation at
arrival and departure, an eco yoga lodge thrown in and all the would like to see places mapped
out. My contribution to this point has
been watching reruns of Luke Nguyen on TLC, and fantasising about crisp wok
fried vegetables and fresh tropical fruit.
0 minus 48 hours: Sorting and packing. This was made more difficult than it should
have been, due to the Indian Embassy’s failure to issue me with another 6 month
visa. A 3 month single entry visa will
require me to pack up and schlep my life around for the next month before
taking refuge in Nepal. Of course this
leaves the boy unsupervised in India for an unspecified period of time. The plan - Indian Road Trip in the
Hyundai! Seriously! And he’ll be documenting the circus, The Road to Rhotang Pass at bpzen.wordpress.com
At times despairing of the choice to be
here, the leaving is nonetheless melancholy.
On the academic front, it’s been a series
of promises, and many dead ends, but if I stack up my appearances and followed through opportunities, I find myself with
quite an impressive portfolio. The
difference being, at home there would have been movement to the next level of
engagement, and here ... well, it’s still about planting the seeds and looking
for champions. An oasis of teaching and
learning was discovered only recently at the Centre for Philosophy and
Humanities. Referred to as a Centre of
Excellence in Teaching, they are tolerated as long as they don’t contaminate
the rest of the university. Hmmm ...
Seeking refuge in my digital devices, I’ve
spent days sitting under the fan editing for the fabulous Penny deByl and AJET,
plus the boy’s books. I think, no I
know, I’ve read and really read, more journal articles in the past year than in
my whole life, so I’m really feeling quite in touch with the world of pedagogy.
Yoga as always has been my centre. You can trace our path through India via my
Instagram yoga site – sabineyoga. Apart
from being a creative outlet, the Instagram yoga community has been my
classroom, both as student and teacher.
There was always going to be cooking, and
to the shock of the Indians, I have almost exclusively pursued the Indian
cuisine. Writing about it as an Australian
cook and translating the flavour profiles and recipes into achievable dishes is
the purpose of my blog – constanscurryculture.wordpress.com. But oh for some crisp lettuce and parmesan
cheese!
India is hard, and it’s especially hard for
a post-feminist western white woman with all the trappings that come along with
that: a tertiary education with matching career, a driver’s licence, and a
sense of social relationships and responsibility that is not understood
here. The small things will remain with
me. The Leaf Market on Wednesday morning where the boys looked after me and
I never spent more that the equivalent of $6 for a week’s worth of fruit and
vegetables, including eggs.
Our
housekeeper, Shankaramma, who was probably the person I saw most. A tiny little lady who showed up every day at
7.37am, even when we tried to give her a day off. There have been floods of tears since we told
her I was leaving, and Wednesday will be waterworks. The lovely Asha, my maybe not so typical
South Indian housewife friend from across the road. Always my translator and eager yoga
student. I’m not quite sure how she
managed to convince her husband I was okay, but ...
My Indian story wouldn’t be complete without
mentioning Shilpa who I met serendipitously at the pool and ended up connecting
with through yoga, cooking, Goa and Bangalore.
Then lastly but not least is Gayathri, a kindred soul of the Writers’ Tribe and the angel who saw me
through my last few weeks.
... enough reminiscing. We’re off to Bappa’s for lunch, one last
time. Idli chutney and a plain soda is
about 50 cents. And they have the best
banana chips.
