The Darjeeling Limited, Fox Style

 On the train

Waiting to get on the train

 YAY! The first leg of the trip was over!



 Our lunch stop, very tasty fresh hot bread with lentil curry

  The gate that is the international border

 Pigs wandering about at the Immigration Office, Mark is in the background with the official.

 There is a lot to look at in train stations!

Ready to finish this trip (I promised my giggly 9yo I would post this picture she took)

Last week we took a whirlwind trip to ‘neighboring’ Nepal.  We are fortunate to have 5 year visas, but each stay can be no more than 180 days so we have to leave the country about every six months, and going overland to Nepal. We left our home on Monday around 11:30am in a taxi, then had dinner with some friends in a city about 4 hours from here, then we got on an overnight train for about 14hrs.  We arrived around 10am in that city, found our taxi and drove about 6.5 hours to the Nepal border, then were stuck at the border in various offices for about 2.5 hours.  All the paperwork to leave India and enter Nepal is done by hand so I did Crowd Control in the taxi cum sauna (it was humid and well into the 90’s) while Mark went into the offices.   We all would have liked to get out, but there was no place for us to play besides the swampy mud the pigs were enjoying or in the road full of rickshaws, horse carts, buses, bicycles, and cars.  We finally arrived in our hotel in Nepal around 9pm, about 34hrs after leaving our home. 

This little hotel we’ve stayed at once before is run by a quirky, hospitable American and it is a gem, so clean and it has the best American food we’ve ever eaten in Asia.  As much as we enjoy Indian cuisine, it really was a treat to have some down home American cooking!  Dinner was fried chicken and salami and cheese sandwiches with SALAD (a huge treat!!!).  We picked out our black nose boogers (a fun perk of traveling in polluted cities), scrubbed off the grime, cranked up the A/C (wow, it’s hot in the plains!) and tumbled into our beds, exhausted, and slept well.  We woke up to a breakfast of homemade sausage, waffles, and real brewed coffee, and had a leisurely morning, pondering why we had decided to stay just one night at this food oasis.  We could just camp out and eat for a couple of days, but then they might have to roll us back to India.  J

 

As we were eating our lunch just before getting in the taxi, Elijah started throwing up.  We’ve done this same trip before with a pukey child and it’s gross, so our hearts sank.  Mark ran out to the market to get some cheap towels for the taxi ride while Elijah and I hung out in the bathroom, me trying to direct his throw-up away from my traveling clothes and onto the tile floor.  He couldn’t keep anything down, including the No Throw Up Medicine, so Mark was looking for an injection of that in the market too.  We prayed for mercy and healing, and Elijah threw up once more, then was fine.  All the while we are supposed to be leaving to make it to our evening train back in India, so eventually we got him dressed and he was able to keep down some No Throw Up Medicine (Mark couldn’t find the shot version), we swaddled him in a towel and we got in the taxi for the 15 minute trip to the border. 

Elijah conked out and I was better prepared for Crowd Control with the other three watching a movie on the portable DVD player while Mark was in offices to get out of Nepal and back into India.  Unfortunately, the DVD player battery fizzled after just an hour so then the children took turns visiting Daddy in the office, carefully avoiding the pigs and water buffalo between the taxi and the office until Nepal had released us and India had allowed us in again.   

And then we were off!  The road for the first 4 hours or so is really rough.  It’s not curvy and nauseating like our mountain roads up here, but full of car-eating potholes.  When these are filled with water it provides some entertainment and excitement because you never know how deep the puddle is.  With our sickie delay, by the time we reached the city it was time to go straight to the train station, no time to go to a toy store or a book store or restaurant, bummer!   Our train was on time and we gladly boarded, stretched out on our bunks and were rocked to sleep, waking up in the morning as we reached our destination.  The fun thing for children traveling by train in the early morning is watching people poop in the fields as you whizz by in the train; many people living in rural India do not have toilets and do their Main Business once a day around sunrise.  It does fertilize their crops... 

We walked to our hotel from the train station (about 10 mins) and then I left to spend a few days with some American girlfriends while Mark and the kids spent the day in the city.  The next day they took a morning train about 5 hrs north, then got a taxi for the last 4hrs home.  Norpur this weekend, planning to stay for at least a few weeks, hopefully even longer, so I may not be able to post again for a while (internet is too slow there to upload).  But we can receive emails, so please stay in touch!

Back to school

Inadequate…

This is the word that resonates over and over in my mind when I sit down at the beginning of the week to write copywork in small books, think about how to best convey new math concepts, and try to mesh the timeline of ancient history with our Main Book.  I’m not a history buff and still trying to figure out why the same events are assigned dates differing by hundreds of years (and who is right?). In college I majored in Biology and minored in Anthropology, thriving on growing bacterial cultures, staining them, viewing them in the microscope, writing ethnographies as I learned to try to view the world through the lense of people living in it, and dreaming of a life overseas.  I wondered why, given the choice, anyone would choose to instead spend their days cutting out letters and student teaching.  Now I’m wishing I had done a bit of that myself.

This will offend some of you.  I am a reluctant homeschooler.   My reluctance is based on my personal insecurities, and the current limitations in our life, not based on doubting homeschooling itself.  I believe that sharing life and educating one’s children at home can be a wonderful thing and many of you do it so well. I admire those of you who sense a mandate to educate your children a certain way, and I wish I had that conviction.  In this season of nomadic life (which we love!) homeschooling is really our only option and so we do it. 

I was homeschooled.  I hear some of you saying, “That explains a lot,” and maybe it does, and I’m grateful for every bit it explains, so there (haha). My mom did an incredible job in an era when there were very few homeschoolers and fewer resources.  She spent hours at the Goodwill store and library searching for books.  We went on field trips to mountains and figured out gas mileage along the way, then identified birds, real life learning.  A dear friend of ours taught us the higher maths in exchange for us watching her baby boy.  I attended outside tutorials for foreign language, art, science.  I learned a lot and came away with a lifelong love of learning (a repeatedly stated goal of homeschoolers).

This time of year homeschool blogs are full of excitement about ‘back to school.’  Pictures of immaculate rooms overflowing with well organized books, inviting reading nooks lit with matching candles, neatly sharpened pencils, crisp stacks of paper ready for the filling, walls plastered with engaging maps and posters, each one mocking me.  Is that someone’s house or an IKEA ad?    Our homeschool room in this house is such a gift.  We don’t have much empty wall space for art and charts, but we do have huge windows looking out on monkeys and hillsides.  We have space for everything: two small tables for seatwork, one bookshelf of books, and a cupboard full of puzzles, games, art stuff, coloring books, and pencil boxes.  But when we travel (which is about half the time), my homeschool room is an untidy black plastic trunk full of books, papers, pencil boxes, bits of yarn, scraps of fabric.  I’m often just a wee bit afraid to stick my hand in there in case a creature has made a home in it.  Inevitably I forget to bring something…hopefully not a whole subject.  

I glory in my mess of it, knowing that He is made perfect in weakness, and I’m so weak in this area.  It’s another chance for me to trust in a nitty gritty way, another way to put my faith into action instead of it swimming around in my stagnant heart.  I hate the possibility of my kids getting to college age and being limited because of my ignorance or inadequacy.  It is a heavy burden for my husband and me to be the only ones regularly investing in their lives…no Boy Scout Troop Leader, no soccer coach, no Sunday School Teacher, no aunt or uncle nearby. 

Do I really believe He knows the end from the beginning?  Do I really trust Him to orchestrate my children’s educational opportunities and life experiences in accordance with the good works He has planned in advance for them to do?  What about team sports, music lessons, public speaking, and science camps?  What about a teacher who can communicate more knowledgeably or passionately?   He Who clothes the lilies of the field, feeds sparrows, and gives us our daily bread in a miraculous way can also feed these hungry minds.  He is even gracious to give occasional glimpses of this being a good thing for them, instead of a reason we ought to be putting more money in their Therapy Accounts (you know they’re gonna need it).  And He is constantly inviting me to trust Him more.

This and that

This post has pictures of our daily life here the past few weeks.  We've had several lovely pockets of sunshine too, for which we are so grateful!!

Nothing like a crowded, bouncy bus to put our littlest two to sleep on daddy's lap.

The kids in our building performed Little Red Riding Hood for us parents, and they put their money together and even provided refreshments after the play.

Our little 2.5 year old Elijah is giving up his nap in favor of an early bedtime but some days he can't quite make it all day without falling asleep.

Much of our learning occurs just in everyday life, but this is where we do some seat work.  The most exciting school thing lately is learning to read in Hindi and recognizing words around town!

Last week we got the car we ordered when we arrived in April.  God has provided so generously for us!!

We are studying ancient history and enjoyed a YUMMY traditional Egyptian meal: boiled cabbage, whole what flat bread, hummus, pomegranate, melon, cucumber, radish, and sweets made of figs and almonds. Most of the ingredients are readily available here, and the only thing missing in our meal was the roasted goat (we keep a vegetarian house).  Another day we made a sugar cube pyramid (see below).

A cardboard box makes a great boat, train, or an army convoy! 

Sara and I both got a special souvenir when we were in the village last month: LICE.  She has had a better attitude about it than I have and was delighted at the hairdos she could create with the treatment cream in her newly shorn locks.  Love how my girl finds the bright side of things. 

Monsoon

Have you ever backpacked or camped in the rain?  It is a unique experience to be so close to the wet, to have the odors of damp forest combined with campfire smoke (from that little tiny flame you coaxed into existence using your paperback you finished while hanging out in the tent, thinking the deluge will end and THEN you’ll hike like you had planned) permeate your hair, your clothing, your gear.  If it rains long enough, you’ll either get out there and hike in the rain or pack up and go home because that 4-man tent shrinks into a barely 1-man bivy with every dark and wet hour that passes.  The same thing happens here.  We hide out in the house for drenching days upon end, then put on our boots, grab umbrellas, and go for a puddle jumping spree in the neighborhood (irresponsible mother that I am, don’t I know my kids will get sick from this!??!! accuse onlookers). 

Monsoon in our town reminds me of wet backpacking trips I’ve enjoyed (endured?), except it lasts a lot longer (about 3 months) and there’s no dry place to hang all my gear after a weekend of wet.  When I go in my bedroom, there is a mildewy odor, it’s our bookcase full of beloved books that will stink until the sun most likely returns in September. We have weeks on end where we don’t see the sun.  I’ve never admired Noah and his crew so much to have endured so many dark, wet days and no sunlamp to chase away the blues (we don’t have one either, although every year I consider searching for one, not sure if they even make them here).  Did they even know if the sun would shine again? I’ll have to review that part again.

Some of the life realities of this season:

• Hard to close the doors because they have swelled and the latches don’t match up
• Have to keep all the desk drawers open because the swollen wood gets stuck shut
• Books, papers, bedding all feel damp all the time
• Snack foods must be immediately consumed (this is a perk!) or they become a soggy mess within hours
• Towels re-hung after a shower don’t dry and quickly smell sour
• Outside walls turn green with the flourishing moss, our daughter is hoping it will cover our entire building so we live in a ‘green castle’
• Inside walls and cupboards sprout black mold
• One can easily understand why the British felt so at home here (our town was the British summer capital) and any desire I’ve ever had to visit the UK vanishes

 Above: the stone walls outside our house...the blue is just a messed up part of the picture

 Above: a monsoon day in town   Below: a moldy wall in our family room

One miracle of this season is the LIFE the abundant water gives to everything.  It’s a crucial season for all the farmers who depend on this water to grow their apples, cabbages, peas, potatoes, and beans.  In the wild, vines climb every tree, paths are overgrown, even some roads diminish due to overgrowth of vegetation (or due to the earth falling out from underneath them or on top of them).  Monkey poop sprouts like little Chia pets (my kids loved that one, and I thought it was pretty cool too) since they eat seeds.  Every crack in walls, cement, bricks is a hospitable home to something green.   Moss is abundant in various colors and textures.  I never knew there were so many shades of green: shiny, dull, nearly yellow, nearly black.  When there is a break in the clouds the hills display a new mantle of green. 

Sometimes I stand in the cloud that envelopes our ridge, on the edge of the valley and cannot see the depths below me, nor the chasm ahead, much less that another side even exists.    When everything familiar is shrouded in clouds and we can’t see majestic mountains and the shining sun is mere memory, it’s a great opportunity to remember what we KNOW is there and see with eyes of faith.  I’d like that to translate a bit more into other intangible parts of my life.   It’s all really there, whether or not it’s visible this minute.