Ok, I'm finally here and have my feet under me...somewhat

Chennai, September 17--10 PM (11:30 AM Minnesota time)

So much has happened I don't know if I can fit it in one post--and alot of these ideas will be picked up and developed over the course of the grant and this blog. I've met so many people in the past few days, tasted so many different types of food, had some unbelievable conversations, figured out how to use the auto taxis, and even got lost once. I've only seen Americans and Europeans at the Immigration Bureau.

My initial landing was rough--culture shock hit pretty hard (which I thoroughly underestimated) and I had a couple of SNAFUs with my housing (which are now rectified). My neighborhood is called Mylapore and it is very conservative and many wealthy Indians live here. This combination does not translate the same way as in the West--this is more traditional India, not like the rest of Chennai which is more cosmopolitan. You will see more garbage, you will see many devoted Brahmins with body paint and traditional dress. When I walk to work I smell the flower merchants selling their garlands for the temples, I pass an ashram and wall graffitti of Ganesh. Tamil is the predominant language (it is a government mandate that all schools teach it) and I can walk for miles without hearing English--I only hear it at my guest house, at school and sometimes in restaurants if people are talking to me. This has been both fascinating and tough--it is so different from my home and street in Minnesota. You hear tropical birds amidst construction, calls to worship juxtaposed against the incessant horns of motorbikes, auto taxis and cars. Buses crash past at terrifying rates, school children pile out of their parents cars or off their motorbikes with Barbie lunchboxes and Nike running shoes while a barefoot man in a loin cloth and long white hair passes by. I am very aware that I am outside of my culture, that I am in a new place, a very different place where I don't yet fully understand the rules.

On top of the sensory overload. a million questions have raced through my mind--just about the mundane, the basics of living and navigating a city. Strange how we can just drop right down into these issues and how scary it can be when you don't know the anwers. My phone doesn't work, where can I get a mobile? Where can I eat? Where can I get cash? Which streets are safe? How late can I be out? Then the responsibility questions hit--can I bring my daughter here? What will she do? Will she be safe? Is this what she's expecting? Will I find an adequate apartment--and if I do, how on Earth will I figure out how to furnish it, buy groceries.... My brain has flooded a few times with this--usually bringing on feelings of homesickness. The grant would be easier if it were just me--but having a family ramps up the protective caregiver side of me. I've had to remind myself (or my wife reminded me--she is so solid) to just clear my mind and breathe. I landed 4 days ago, be patient, give it time.

While much of this sounds a bit negative, the people I've met, the over-the-top assistance and kindness I've received, and the conversations about big ideas (value of education, poverty, nature of history, cultural knowledge...) have been mind-blowing and wonderful. I work with tremendous educators at M. CT. M. School--Ms. Sudha is amazing and I am so looking forward to working with her on this project. I am linked up with a brilliant and dynamic facilitator who just makes me want to dive into the issues and change the world--she runs an educational foundation and is a teacher trainer. Her foundation is taking on big problems in education and there may be some opportunities to work with her on them while I'm here and perhaps in the future. As my facilitator, she's answered questions that I didn't even know I had and has really taken care of me. I have been really fortunate to meet some amazing people during the past few days--they have buoyed me in so many ways I hope that they know how much it has all meant to me. One final piece about this--and I'll have to write about the content later--so many of the conversations have aligned with my capstone and what I've been reading and thinking about for the past year. It's an strange coincidence perhaps or a map to go forward--a confluence of ideas and potential.

Since I mentioned it, yes, I did get lost today. I spent several hours with the Indian bureaucracy at the Immigration Bureau. I raced back to school to meet with the year 2 IB ToK students and caught the last 20 minutes of class. My supervisor had a ton of other obligations due to a conference being held at the school this weekend so I had the late afternoon free. I headed down Luz Church Road from school to the Mylapore Tank (see the picture at the top of this entry). I walked through a park, past stores and a few coffee and tea stalls. Once I got to the tank I decided to take another route home instead of merely backtracking. This turned out to be stupid. I don't know what possessed me to think that this old city is on a grid like Minneapolis--somehow my memory of the maps I've looked at blanked. I did see some pretty extreme poverty--little kids playing naked in the street next to their shack which abuts a canal that reeks of industrial and human waste. I wandered by dead-reckoning for about 45 minutes until I finally decided to give up and take an auto-taxi home--I had asked for directions 3 times and received conflicting information resulting in me making a complete circle. I approached one, but his fare was too high so I walked to what I thought was another driver. The man was old, eyes clouded by glaucoma, and as he spoke I could smell the alcohol on his breath--however he turned out to be the only reliable source I found this past afternoon. He understood where I wanted to go and knew the landmarks and could point me in the right direction if I wanted to walk, but he kept refusing to drive me there. Looking at my watch I realized that I needed to get back to Skype with my daughter and get cleaned up for a play that I planned to attend this evening (Madras Players' "Whose Wife Is It Anyway?") I thanked him and started to look for another driver--the distance wasn't too bad. He then informed me that he was not a driver (he just helped me out for no other reason than to be helpful) and then fetched me a nearby driver to take me where I wanted to go--he even gave directions to the driver. As the taxi pulled away I waved and thanked him still sort of stunned by this whole interaction. The driver was pleasant and taught me a few words in Tamil and got me home in a matter of minutes. I showered and then Skyped with Mads over breakfast and made it to the school auditorium in time for the play.

This entry is getting long and it barely scratches the surface--and I've only been here 4 days. It's also late and I need to be up early for a couple of things.