lost in translation.
February 20. Chomu -- small village outside Jaipur.
Last night was our first night of the village homestay. Rain, lightning, cows, clay ovens, simple wheat cutting machines. Grandma is a fairytale; inch-wide dental gap front and center, easily tickled sense of humor, and sweet-tooth. She slept with us last night, with Cima, the younger sister of the oldest and most angsty girl. It was difficult to differentiate between her flatulence and thunder. During the day though, Grandmother was just a mess of joy.
We had an interesting experience with figuring out how to communicate the desire to go on a walk around the fields or village or wherever was available. But, as has become a regular occurrence, our intentions were misinterpreted as "yes, let's go work. let's go?
work. wORk. yes?"
1. mother, watching a bubble float away with hands in air and awe
2. two three yr old boys sharing a bicycle ride. derails, both get off and begin to re-rail, poor positioning, flip bike upside-down on handlebars, proceed to replace chain and spin pedal, fixed, up, riding again.
3. this is the first place i've seen roses in india
I could save time by journaling all of my thoughts and theories about happiness here and everywhere, but now I feel more present than I have in a long time, and I'm liking it.
Being welcomed by the principal of Vidyagram International School