So Much

I have been in India for seven days now. In an effort to get you all caught up, here is a free verse bit about those seven days (and what a seven days it's been!):

Snow storms
Oh, Chicago winters!
I know the best places to sleep at O'Hare;
The ones that don't get vacuumed at 3 am.
Stacia and I talk about my Polish last name
in broken English and body language.
Vince Vaughn and I waiting for our plane's engines
To be tip-top.
We both want to get to London.
He is wearing Vans and carrying two legal pads.
What movie are you working on, Vince?
Coffee.
More coffee.

Chicago to Delhi
One book: Writing As a Way of Healing.
Social Network
Never Let Me Go.
Stay at The Grand
(Thank you American Airlines)
In the room for five hours and
Decide to take bubble bath since I know
it's a luxury I won't have for some time.
I eat the most juicy kiwi I've ever had.
Indian cookies in room
Spice is unplaceable
But familiarly Indian.
BBC news.

Off to Bangalore.
Crossing my fingers for my luggage to be there.
Hoping against hope that my delayed and changed flight
pattern will be communicated.
Communication.
Will there be a driver to take me two hours outside
Bangalore to the school?
Must change money over to Rs.

No bag. I loose it at this point.
Foreign country. Strong accents.
Going two hours from airport where I'm not sure
whether there will be telephone or internet
communication.

Find my driver
patiently waiting,
thankfully.
Sigh of relief.
Separate myself from physical items in my bag.
(Try to.)
Must.

Weather like California
Pulls me in and hugs me close.

Driving in India is like being inside
a video game
whose designers have decided to throw
each and every possible
obstacle at the driver
in an effort to make him crash.

Cyclists. Motorcycles. Mo-peds.
Auto rickshaws.
Taxis. Cows.
Grandmother with rice on head.
Child barefoot. Water jug. No hands!
Middle of intersection.
More barefoot children. Garbage.
Red red red dirt.
Man urinating in middle of next intersection.
Does green mean go?
I guess red doesn't mean stop.
Cow. Garbage heap. Are we still in our lane?
Are there lanes?
Cows with painted horns.
Wait! Look out for that ---!
Cars coming the other direction.
Cows. Cows. COW!
Goat crossing.
Police with whistle.
Cow.
Construction.
Light out.
Pot hole the size of small crater.
Water leak. Cow.
Cow.
Cow cow cow.

Finally make it Shanti Bhavan.
Peaceful Haven of light.
Veggie gardens
Palms
Pastoral.
Monkey. Goat. Cow. Parrot.
Piano music and children's voices.

Newly energized,
Taking tours.
The kids all know my name!
Kicking myself for not taking a pen
on tour.
Want to write down the students' names.
How will I remember?!
Is that Shilpa with an "S" or a "C"?
Am I saying that correctly?

Second graders make me want to
Never ever stop smiling.
Why would we ever stop smiling?
"Miss Leah. Miss Leah."
Bursting with love
Love. Light. Warmth.
No change of clothes
But all the warmth I need
Right here
in this place.
Shanti Bhavan.

Branching Out

I woke up this morning in my comfortable bed, went for a run, took a hot shower, ate a nutritious breakfast and thought, for the first time in a while, about how lucky I am. I noticed these everyday routines this day of all days since today is the day I leave for India. I have never been to India. And though I've studied much, and read even more, India seems worlds away. It will take me twenty four hours to get there and three airplane rides. When I arrive in Bangalore, it will be Wednesday. (What exactly happens to my Tuesday, January 18, 2011?)

I will be teaching science, English, and dance at the Shanti Bhavan School just outside of Bangalore, India for the New York organization called Artists Striving To End Poverty. The impetus for this experience is the need to bridge my self and what I may offer to others in a very real and direct way. 

Though blogging and I have had a love-hate relationship, I decided I need to process my thoughts and adventures not only for my friends and family, but for myself. 

A bit about the title. Anastomosis. Anastomosis is a Greek word meaning intercommunicate. It describes two or more paths or branches coming together as one. Some use it to describe rivers, tree branches, sap vessels, or blood vessels. While reading Body of Work: Meditations on Mortality From the Human Anatomy Lab by Christine Montross (an artful and awe-filled book about the human body, written from a poet-physician's perspective) I noticed that Montross was inspired by the loveliness and utility of medical terminology. One word she marvels upon is anastomosis. I thought: What a perfect title for my Indian adventure! Let this experience be a coming together. Two paths merging, growing as one.