A Break

My mom and Veena auntie have arrived!!!

Plus it's finals week.

So I will be taking a break from blogging till I return to Chennai on the 23rd; although finals week may go so horrendously wrong that I will have to ease the pain somehow. You never know.

Yuvraaj

I don't know if Yuvraaj has opened in the states yet, but it opened all over India on Friday and the students bought us tickets to go on opening night. We went to the 6:45 show. We were really excited because this movie was supposed to be HUGE. But we really just wanted to see how much of ourselves were in it. We cheered out loud every time we heard Eilidh's cello solo, Josh's violin solo, and whenever the choir sang. Of course everything is drowning in a giant vat of reverb so you can barely make out that real humans are producing these sounds. But it was thrilling nevertheless. Oh! And the photo shoot paid off! You can see us for about half a second during the end credits! But don't blink. You might miss it. I'm standing behind Rahman on the right next to Eilidh's boyfriend who has nothing to do with the school but happened to be foreign and visiting at the time. LOL. We jumped around and cheered with the students and turned around to find that not one person was still in the theater.

But as expected, the movie was absolute rubbish.

Ms. Teacher

We all have good days and bad days, but as a teacher, you have to constantly put on a happy face and not let personal issues interfere with your teaching. Not that I have super dramatic personal issues, but I've been starting to feel a little claustrophobic here, and bored of my daily routine. Every day is the same, all the people are the same, the students are the same, the situations are the same, the conflicts are the same, the meetings are tedious and boring and end with no conclusion, etc. etc..

So yesterday morning, I metaphorically hit a brick wall when I came into choir and found that not one of the students had even looked at the music that I had given them almost four weeks ago. I have been spending every class period going over the same material over and over again because they don't work on it on their own. The choir is made up of all the students in the school - including piano, composition, string, and percussion majors. I agree that it is beneficial for everyone to be able to sight sing and for people who aren't used to hearing harmony, it's definitely a good introduction to have to sing different melodies together. But to teach a class of 43 with about a good 25% disinterested is something else. There's no point. The vocal students are being held back because they can learn the vocal lines quickly and the people who are disinterested get increasingly bored and frustrated because they haven't learned the part and we have to then go over the same parts repeatedly. I have set some pretty strict rules when it comes to being on time to class, and learning the music. I have given quizzes where people have just plain failed because they hadn't learned their part. What more can I do? If they don’t learn their part and don’t care about failing, there’s really nothing more.

I’m generally pretty well put together, especially in public. But my frustration and annoyance had gotten to a point where I just couldn’t handle it anymore and so I just started crying in front of everyone and screaming “What is the matter with you people! You’re lazy and unappreciative! What more do I have to do to get you to work harder?! Why don’t you want to learn!” etc. etc. My grievances were met with shocked sideways glances, clasped hands and feet staring.

And then with a overly- dramatic pause, I slowly closed the book and said “class dismissed.” and walked out a half hour before class was supposed to end. In retrospect it’s actually quite comical.

I’m sure this is not abnormal, but after leaving the class, I was totally and utterly mortified and was ready to pack my bags and leave immediately. But of course I couldn’t do that. So I did the next best thing. I came home and furiously cleaned my apartment.

45 minutes later I get a knock on my door and it’s the watchman who’s come to tell me that some of the students are here. I’m thinking, “um, they’re not allowed in the faculty house..” and then I see that three of them have come to talk. Apparently after I left, these three decided they needed to have an emergency student meeting to discuss the dire situation. So they came to me with a thorough and detailed proposal on how I should continue with the chorus with strategies on how to keep people interested. How cute is that? They basically said the problem is the difference in teaching methods between the east and west. Here there is a distinct hierarchy between administration, teachers and students and there really is no method to teaching other than “do it or fail.” Or worse, “do it or get hit.” They said basically that I’m just too nice and shouldn’t treat them with respect or as equals, and admitted that it’s difficult to be motivated without someone threatening them. Hmm… that’s a tricky situation because I’m not exactly the threatening or beating type.

Anyway, in the end, I’m happy that they got freaked out a bit by my reaction… no more mr. nice teacher. Hopefully next class will be better.

In more exciting news, we had our first vocal student recital on Friday and both Selva and Rahman came. The students were accompanied by Robert on harpsichord and Eilidh on cello; and for the students who did musical theater songs, I played for them on the piano. I was so nervous – more nervous than the kids. I used to think that it was so egotistical for teachers to think that how well the students did is a reflection on them. But now I completely understand. I also somewhat understand parenting I suppose by default. But anyway, I was like sweating profusely and running around like a chicken with its head off.

It turned out to be a wonderful concert and both Selva and Rahman loved it. Yay!
-------------

So I wrote this last week right after choir class and have since had another class with them. They still hadn't looked at the material even a little bit, so I just sighed out loud, and announced a pop-midterm. Only 25 of the students were there today out of 42 and I just calmly said "will you please tell the students who are not here, that they have just failed their midterm." I called them one by one in front of the class and asked them to sing their part. About 2/3 of the class failed. The rest got Bs and Cs.

Hopefully this method will work.

Ghajini

I found out that the clip I recorded last week is for a song called Guzarish in Aamir Khan's new film Ghajini. It's like a five second clip in the title song. Woo!
My part is going to be only on the cd, but you can get info on the movie at http://www.ghajinifilm.com

OH MY GOD.

ARR sent me the link in an email. I don't even know. Eee!

http://www.mumbaimirror.com/index.aspx?page=article§id=30&contentid=2008110620081106035726702d8944a50§xslt=section

I don't know why this link isn't working - blogger is being weird. So just copy and paste.

Diwali Weekend

Festivals are huge here. I mean huge. Even when they say that they don't really celebrate something, they do. I gotta say, our idea of a crazy party dramatically pales in comparison. For weeks I've been seeing signs anticipating Diwali: shopping sales, club advertisements, etc. I asked Rahman's sister Fatima what goes on in Chennai for Diwali and she basically said "if you really want to celebrate Diwali, you have to go up north. Nothing big happens in Chennai." Hmm, ok. Nevertheless, I decided I didn't want to go anywhere for the long weekend and just stayed in Chennai.

I can't even begin to describe the crazyness. Even though Diwali was on Monday, the fireworks and crackers started on Saturday. Liz and I went up to the roof of KM just to get a better view and were just awestruck at how much was going on. The sky was completely lit by fireworks all 360 degrees around. It was just incredible and I've never experienced anything like it. It was so bright outside, 9 pm seemed more like dawn. The funniest part was the fact that rules about such things just don't exist so there were cracker shops set up on every corner and kids as young as five and six were lighting them on the street. It's not like the fourth of July where the masses volunteer to go to a designated and protected spot where a group of professionals execute fireworks cautiously and with safety in mind. No. If you can get a hold of them, you can light them. No laws, no ticketing, no punishment - even if someone throws one directly at you and your arm gets blown off. I guess we're just not used to such a 'c'est la vie' attitude. Not only were they lighting them, but the little rascals were throwing them at people walking by despite the fact that these things are explosives and can actually cause significant injury. There were a couple moments where I really thought I would perish and at times it made me wonder if this is what war feels like. Some crackers sound horrifyingly like gunshots. Liz and I walked home from KM fully alert and right as we were reaching the faculty house we heard a bundle of crackers go off at the same time sounding like ten machine guns directly over our heads. Swearing to ourselves we ducked into our house only to find the source: Robert and Shasta lighting them from our balcony roaring with laughter. Rascals.

Saturday afternoon I was called in to Panchaton for another recording. Turned out I was summoned to sing with a local choir for a short choral part in Yuvraaj. I have to say, it's so frustrating sometimes during the recordings because even though they say that they want a "western operatic sound" for the part, they actually really don't. No one here is used to singing, or even hearing vibrato. Vibrato = wrong. They're also not used to the western tone quality - the actual sound of the voice in western music is thicker, heavier and more rounded. The Indian way of singing to me resembles animated chipmunks - it's a thin, chesty, nasal sound. So it's incredibly irritating to be coached to sing in a way that I've been told not to for years. The sound editor had to keep moving me around so that I wasn't directly in front of the mic because a. my voice was louder than everyone's, and b. I sing with vibrato. The other thing is the music. They're not used to reading notation here but we were given an obligatory piece of sheet music that remotely resembled what they wanted to hear. The parts weren't separated into soprano, alto, tenor, bass and we had to decide on the spot who should sing what. There were also glaring mistakes in the notation which I'm just not used to. In my world, what's written is what's right. Not here. Here, it's compulsory to use your ear rather than know how to read. What was surprising to me was even in the fast paced world of Bollywood, things just aren't as efficient as we're used to. I was at the studio for about six hours and if things were organized and prepared in advance, it probably would have taken at most an hour. I'm still getting used to that. In any case, the recording was fun even though I was out of my element. I met some nice people, and had a good time. The part is actually going to be played during a fight scene in Yuvraaj, so keep an ear out.

We got through Diwali alive and decided to stay in on Tuesday and just relax. I got up early and went to the gym. Right as Alison and I were about to jump on the treadmill, I got a call from Liz: "So... Rahman wants to have a photo shoot with the KM faculty in western evening wear." WHAT? "He wants the men to wear suits and the women to wear evening dresses." WHAT? "Yeah, and we're supposed to be holding champagne glasses." Jigga whaaa? The shoot ended up being at like 10 pm in one of the performance rooms at the conservatory. We all got dolled up in the best outfits we brought and nervously walked to school as the neighborhood stopped and stared. We walked in and saw that a carpet was laid down on the floor with one of the digital pianos carefully positioned on top. The best part: the shoot was to be in front of a GREEN SCREEN. We were told that it would be a photo shoot, and of course we thought that meant still photos. No. We were actually filmed with an HD video camera. Do you know how awkward and bizarre it is to pose but to be video taped? Still photo: easy. But to act natural on video is nerve wracking. Rahman came in wearing a suit and was positioned by the crew at the piano. Meanwhile, we were standing behind him trying to pretend like we were at a lavish party with wine glasses (filled with pepsi). It was one of the most fun, nervous, and hilarious experiences of my life. This video shoot is apparently going to be shown during the end credits of Yuvraaj. Why? No clue. What does KM have to do with Yuvraaj? Nothing, really. So not sure. But hopefully you guys will be able to see it. I can't wait.

Monica

Last weekend was fantastic. Maya's college friend Monica is in India right now visiting her family in Delhi and she contacted me and asked if she could come visit and see Chennai. She came last Thursday and I picked her up at the airport in a ricksaw and we got back to my apartment and started planning the weekend. I couldn't really figure out where to take her because even though Chennai is a big city, there aren't really any tourist attractions here. I mean, how many shopping centers and malls can you take someone to? So what did we end up doing? Going back to Golden Sun resort of course. Why not?

Robert, Shasta, Monica and I took the bus to Mahabalipuram which was quite an ordeal. We managed to find seats, but not in the same place and we were all smashed next to sweaty smelly men playing the equivalent of arm rest fighting with our knees. The Golden Sun resort is about 10 kilometers before the city and normally if we were anywhere else in the world we would have probably just waited till we got to the city and then taken a cab to where we needed to go. Not in India - rules don't seem to exist and we're definitely getting the hang of it. As we approached the giant sign for Golden Sun, the four of us stood up and ran toward the front of the bus yelling STOP!!! The driver calmly slowed down and we jumped off before it came to a halt. Laughing hysterically at the absurdity, we ran toward the resort just as the sun was setting. We got our rooms, put our stuff down, got into our bathing suits and jumped in the pool. We had a great north Indian dinner, drank a couple Kingfishers, alternated between the ocean and the pool, and happily came to a compromise with the seemingly 75 year old "lifeguard" on duty who made sure we could swim before retiring for the night. Totally prune-skinned and exhausted, we went to bed late, fully planning to wake up early enough to see the sunrise.. Of course that didn't happen. Instead, we woke up at around 10 ish, ate breakfast, nursed our hangovers and took one last dip in the pool before we had to check out. Robert and Shasta ended up staying at the resort for another night, but Monica and I took a cab into Mahabalipuram so she could see the temples and caves. A couple hours later we took the bus to Pondycherry which took about an hour and a half and were met by Pushkar (who used to work for KM but left about a month ago). We were just planning on wandering around Pondy until we found a place to stay, but Pushkar had graciously booked us a room in the Sri Aurobindo ashram next to the promenade. To stay at the ashram for one night, it was only 100 rupees. 100 rupees! Even though I am suspicious about the source of the various bug bites I got that night and the possibility of head lice.................... 100 rupees! We dropped off our bags, and then went to this wonderful French restaurant called Le club near the sea. The ashram was situated in the French part of the city - cobblestone streets, colorful shops, smart cars. We really could have been in Europe. The restaurant was beautifully lit with lights strung around all of the trees and hanging from the thatched straw ceiling. I started with a cream-based seafood soup then moved on to steak with mushrooms and pommes frites. Crazy ey? After dinner we took a walk along the promenade and then headed back to the ashram to make the 10:30 curfew. Despite us being blanket-less, I slept quite well. In the morning we woke up pretty late, went to Fab India, and then had breakfast at a place called Rendezvous where I had eggs, chorizo, ham, grilled tomato, potatoes and black tea. Heaven.

Next on the itinerary was to meet Pushkar in his hometown: Auroville. What a strange city! Founded in the 60's, this socialist community was supposed to be a spiritual experiment in creating the "ideal". I looked it up and found this:
"Auroville belongs to nobody in particular.
Auroville belongs to humanity as a whole.
But to live in Auroville, one must be the willing servitor of the Divine Consciousness.
Auroville will be the place of an unending education,
of constant progress, and a youth that never ages.
Auroville wants to be the bridge between the past and the future. Taking advantage of all discoveries from without and from within, Auroville will boldly spring towards future realisations.
Auroville will be a site of material and spiritual researches for a living embodiment of an actual Human Unity.
Auroville wants to be a universal town where men and women of all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony above all creeds, all politics and all nationalities. The purpose of Auroville is to realise human unity."


There is no religion in Auroville but anyone wanting to practice their own faith is of course allowed to do so. Instead the community has adopted a sort of general spirituality that focuses on the teachings of Sri Aurobindo to attain enlightenment. Because of these views, and because the city was founded in the 60's, you can imagine how many hippies migrated from all over the world to participate in communal living. The four main languages of Auroville are English, French, Hindi and Tamil and even though I was there only briefly, I managed to hear all four of them in addition to Russian, Italian, and Spanish. We learned that the soil of 143 different countries was brought to the city and the layout is a circular design around a central banyan tree where they built the Matrimandir. Pushkar took us on his motorbike to the Matrimandir and it is just breathtaking to look at. Not only that, because he is a member of the community, we actually got to go INSIDE which visitors are not allowed to do. The inside of it is just another world altogether. It feels like you're in a spaceship. As soon as you walk in, you have to sit down and put on socks which are provided for you. Then you walk up this HUGE spiral slope that twists a couple times up to the very top where there is a an ominous looking heavy door. We opened it cautiously and stepped inside to a room ten times as large as I thought it would be with soft white carpet, white walls, giant white pillars that seemed to disappear into the ceiling, and white towels purposefully laid out in a circular pattern. In the center lay a massive crystal ball held up by four gold triangles. We chose our towels, sat cross-legged and meditated for ten minutes and left. Despite its futuristic and deliberate design, the energy inside was surprisingly neutral. We left the Matrimandir and had a nice lunch of tofu lasagna and quiche at the visitor's center, and then headed back to Chennai. I slept the whole time on the bus.

The next morning I was summoned to Rahman's studio at 7 am and recorded yet another demo for the same "eastern European short film" that I recorded for before. But this time I pried a little bit more and found out that this demo that I've nonchalantly been recording for the past 2 weeks is actually for a short film by Shekhar Kapoor (Elizabeth, The Four Feathers)! And after about 11 hours of recording and revising and re-recording, Rahman sent the demo to Shekhar and he accepted it. Woohoo! Monica came to the recording session and hopefully she wasn't too bored. She left at around 4 pm. I had a really great time with her.

Unfortunately I can't get the recording until the film comes out, but perhaps I can somehow weasel my way into getting the demos that were rejected. We'll see.

What a weekend!

Recording

Oh my goodness, I once again had a surprisingly eventful week. I have been meditating a lot more and I feel myself definitely settling in here. Chennai is really starting to feel like home. It's nice to not have to think about how much you're spending, how much money is in the account, how much to pay for utilities and credit card bills etc. This is luxury. Who would've thought that I'd find myself in the height of luxury... in India... of all places. I even have a set schedule now. Things were just really crazy in the beginning because I didn't know what to do with myself when I wasn't teaching and even the school wasn't fully settled yet, so it seemed like there was just constant chaos. Now however, I'm starting to keep a daily routine that is delightfully boring. A typical day is: Wake up at 10, teach choir from 10:30 - 12 at KM, come back to the faculty house for lunch, give private lessons at KM from 1 - 4, go to yoga at 5, eat chaat standing up at the local stand near the corner store at 6:30, buy milk and come home and make chai at 7, do some work till 9, eat dinner, hang out with faculty till midnight and then go to sleep. I think I will miss this chaat stand more than anything else when I leave here. 5 rupees for a samosa and 10 rupees for samosa chaat. Yum. And eating it off of a dirty cardboard plate with a teeny sample spoon is for some reason wildly fulfilling.

Anyway, so two days ago I was going through my routine when Josh told me there was going to be a group meditation at this thatched hut near the faculty house. So I agreed to go. It's this random hut near the grocery store and everyone just sits and waits for the preceptor to come and once he does, he says "begin meditation" and then you sit with your eyes closed and clear your thoughts for a half hour. Straightforward enough. I had my phone on silent so I didn't check my phone until we were done and almost home. It was Faiz saying that I had to go to his office immediately for an urgent matter. I was like what's going on? Did something happen? Then when I got there, he called Rahman who I talked to for all of 2 minutes and he asked if I was available to record at 9 pm! So of course I said yes. I came back to the faculty house, ate dinner and went to Panchaton, his house/studio.

I went to Panchaton at 9 where Rahman showed me the basic idea of what he wanted, which he had already mixed and recorded on the computer. He played it for me a couple times, and then left to go have dinner with his family. But while he was playing it for me he kept talking about what he was thinking of changing, what was working, what wasn't working, what ambience he was looking for etc etc. And without thinking I started giving my opinion and talking about what he could do for the effect that he was looking for...... and then realized that I was giving A.R. Rahman advice.....and then felt really weird.....and then shut up. Anyway, he left and I sat for about an hour and just listened to it repeatedly until I learned it. Basically he needed ambient background music for an eastern European short film that he's doing the music for. So I learned exactly what he had recorded himself on "aaa" because I assumed that there wouldn't be any words if it's supposed to be ethereal. And then I waited and waited and waited for him to come back. That night was apparently a huge deadline for him for like four different projects that were all being worked on at the same time, so he was running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get everything done because he had a flight to catch later. So I waited till about 1 am when he came back and said "ok, shall we do it?" I go into the studio feeling confident that I had learned it correctly, when he turns to me and says "oh, I just talked to them and they say they want words." Then he says "let's put Sufi words, but is it possible for you to pronounce them like German or Hungarian?" Um. What? First of all, I don't know what Sufi is. Second, how in the world does one make very arabic-sounding words sound eastern European? So he finds words to put together and scribbles them on the back of another piece of paper. He continues to work on mixing the demo so I go back outside and hang out with the others who are there waiting as well - the others being Benny (who sang in Jaane tu ya Jaane na and Yuvraaj) and Shrini (also in Yuvraaj). I'm sitting on the couch yawning and Benny laughs and says, "Ha! It's your first time, isn't it? You can't be yawning yet, the night is just beginning." What??? I go back into the studio and Rahman says "are you ready?" And I say, "Sure." I go into the sound booth, put on the headphones and look over the words, when he starts playing the music and... it's COMPLETELY different from what I had listened to earlier. Like, it could have been a different song. I think he saw my concern and said "don't worry, let's just take one phrase at a time." So I start singing and the reverb on the microphone is so intense, I barely have to open my mouth. As a western classical singer, we're just constantly taught to sing...OUT; with a full voice, full support, and loud. Rahman kept saying "could you do it a little softer?" and "could it be lighter... with more air?" On top of that, he wanted it slightly Indian sounding too, so I did my best to do the ornaments he was asking for. All in all, I think I did it pretty quickly, without written notation, and I think it was a success. He seemed pleased, anyway. The best part of the whole thing was that HE was doing all the recording and mixing himself. There was no one in the studio except for me and him. How crazy is that? I'm like trying to concentrate on what he's asking me to do, all the while having flashbacks of dancing to Chaiyya Chaiyya like 10 years ago and hearing Vande Mataram at the 50th anniversary of India's independence parade. It was just a surreal experience.

I finished recording in an hour and a half but he asked me to stay in case he still needed to record something. I was at the studio till 7 am. 7 am!

I came home and passed out with a satisfied smile.

Mahabalipuram

I had the most amazing weekend; it was so surreal. It all started on Friday when I met Rajesh Vaidhya who is an absolutely incredible veena player - just an absolute joy to watch and listen to. He did a workshop for the KM students and played traditional Carnatic music as well as some really crazy english tunes like Michael Jackson and Beethoven and Mozart. He even played Fur Elise on the veena!! It was one of the best concerts I have ever been to hands down - of any kind of music. He has a certain effect that makes you stop and say "wait a minute, this is Waaay cooler than anything I do. I've got it all wrong."

Then , it was Rahman's mother's 60th birthday on Friday and the KM faculty were invited to a gala party for her at the Park Hotel which included fantastic north Indian fare, media cameras and involved fancy attire. I had just bought a really nice suit from Pantaloons that I enthusiastically showed off (I haven't had a chance to wear anything I've bought yet so this was especially fun) and I hobnobbed with a few people: the singer Sujatha who sang in Roja and Rahman's manager, Noel. I asked Sujatha about how to maintain vocal health in such a humid climate and she gave me some tips and told me about her ENT that she sees for vocal scopes etc. Anyway, I spent the night running away from cameras and uncomfortably sitting with the rest of the faculty who didn't know anyone. But it was fun. And I finally got to meet Rahman's wife and she is stunningly beautiful in person. What a woman!

But it didn't end there - we stayed up all night and early the next morning, Shasta, Robert, Eilidh, Michael, Liz and I jumped in a car and went to Mahabalipuram to watch the sunrise. I was so exhausted and was really debating not going but once we got there I was so happy I went because it turned out to be one of the best experiences I've ever had. We walked directly to the beach and sat on the sand while the sun came up. I don't know if I've ever actually watched a sunrise before but it was just incredible. After about 2 hours we walked back up and climbed the hills to see the rock carvings, temples and caves. It was only 7:30 am when we finished but it was already about 100 degrees outside and by that time I was just plain exhausted.

We got back in the car and were driving back until we saw a huge sign for Golden Sun Resort on the right hand side. We promptly stopped. We walked in and asked how much it would cost to use the beach for the day and it was only 75 rupees!!! I had brought my bathing suit just in case, but public beaches here are just so creepy and people just stand around and watch you so I never attempted to jump in. But the resort had their own private beach and at 8 oclock in the morning there was absolutely no one there except for a goat herder and scattered cows. The best part was that it was CLEAN. We ate a "continental breakfast" which was just eggs, toast and coffee, got into our bathing suits and jumped head first into the ocean. We stayed at the beach till 3 in the afternoon and I now look Nigerian. All in all, it was the best day ever. We came home and passed out for the rest of the day.

The next morning I woke up early at 7:30 am and went with Josh and Liz to the Sahaj Marg Ashram to meditate. Josh practices raja yoga through the Shri Rama Chandra Mission and is actually a preceptor himself. He's been having meditation sittings with all of us who are interested and it's actually quite nice. I definitely believe in the overall benefits of meditation in general, but I am suspicious of groups that say their way is the right way to gain spiritual clarity. The "master" only does sittings on Sunday mornings and it lasts for almost an hour. We sit cross-legged with our eyes closed and the master supposedly "cleans" out extraneous and potentially harmful layers of resistance that we have built over the years. I believe that that's true - we do add layers and layers of resistance to ourselves based on the experiences we've had, but isn't that just a survival technique in the darwinian sense? Don't we harden our psyches as a way to not get hurt again? I don't know how much I believe in this particular technique, but there have been a couple of times where I have felt incredibly potent surges of pure emotion like anger, fear, and guilt for no reason during meditation. So who knows? Maybe there's something to it. After the ashram, I went and sat at a coffee shop called Mocha and enjoyed a lamb panini, which I washed down with cranberry infused lemonade.

Seriously. It was the best weekend ever.

Some pics:

The sun about to come up










The sun starting to come up. It was a teeny bit foggy so the picture didn't come out as clear as it actually was

Eilidh and Robert watching the sunrise


The sun finally coming up




How crazy is this picture?? And it's not digitally enhanced in any way. Nuts.



There were these tiny little crabs running around all over the beach. They dig little holes and walk into them sideways.




The Shore Temple right on the beach. Apparently there are a whole bunch of small temples that have been covered by the ocean. And when the tsunami came and the water receded, all of these small temples were uncovered, so everyone went farther out to look at it and then perished from the wave.

All of us who went: from left to right, Liz, Shasta, Eilidh, Robert, Michael








Large rock carving








Remnants of a temple








A goat precariously perched on the rock wall








A random giant rock. I'd be a great tour guide wouldn't I?








Liz trying to push the giant rock








The view from the top







At the Golden Sun Resort







The view from the thatched hut








Oh how much fun it was!

The Wine Shop

Alcohol culture here is so bizarre. I think because the idea is so taboo, people react to it in such bizarre ways. Strangely, in fact. It is not by any means illegal, but even still, people act like it is. I wonder if they prefer to act like it’s illegal so they get more joy from drinking? I don’t know.

In any case, I’ve noticed that the idea of enjoying an alcoholic beverage is a concept completely foreign to their sensibilities. First of all, most restaurants, even high class hotels don’t have an alcohol license. So even if you go to a north Indian restaurant, it’s not possible to savor your tandoori chicken and naan with a tall, ice cold glass of Kingfisher. I have only seen alcohol served at 5 star hotels that usually only have foreign clients. Oh, and if you go to a whatever restaurant and ask if they have a liquor license, they look at you as if you’re an alien.

And then there’s the wine shop. It’s not an actual store that you can walk into, it’s just a random counter facing the street. So men, often already drunk men come, buy their bottle of whiskey, open it, drink it on the street and stumble off back where they came from. How weird is that?

There is absolutely no wine culture here because well, there’s no wine. Indian wine is the most dreadful beverage on the planet. So there really is only beer, whiskey and gin to choose from.

If you analyze the alcohol culture here, it’s actually indicative of more than just booze. I find that there is shame and guilt associated not with the consumption of these things, but with the public consumption of alcohol, and tobacco. I know plenty of women who smoke here but you would never, ever see them enjoying a cigarette during working hours, or on the street. But in the comfort of their own homes, they happily light up. Similarly with drinking, there are plenty of people who have a beer at home after work, but they would a. never admit to it because of the religious façade they’ve put up, and b. never offer alcohol to a guest because then everyone would know. But I’ve heard on more than one occasion that these same people “know how to party.” It is the idea of "people talking" that everyone is so afraid of. It's not the doing that is the issue, it's the "what will people think?" that is the problem. For example, because of the religious beliefs of certain people in this school, the faculty house is supposed to be an alcohol and tobacco free zone - which we were happily told with an overly exaggerated wink wink and nudge nudge.

So in conclusion, I’ve learned that everyone does everything, but no one talks about it. Weird.

Ridiculous

Geez, I’ve had the most eventful week, good and bad. I’ve never felt so high and so low in such a short amount of time. So the whole thing with Rahman happened and we were scheduled to record on Thursday. I was ecstatic. Of course Thursday morning like clockwork I come down with really intense chest congestion and fever. I thought, “I should just go see a doctor right away; I get bronchitis a lot anyway, it’s probably that – and maybe, just maybe I’ll still be able to record by this evening.”

I ask Faez to take me to a doctor. He says no problem, he’s right around the corner. We walk to a house where a man at the front gate tells us where to go. We walk through this person’s house, through the back door and up the back stairs to go to this tiny waiting room where we sit for 5 minutes. The door opens and he calls us in – it’s the same guy! No white coat. He asks me to sit and says “what’s the problem?” I say really really intense chest pressure and congestion, sore throat, body aches, fever. “Ah, ok.” Takes a flashlight and looks in my throat for not even a quarter of a second; just a flicker. “Hmm. Bad. Throat Infection.” Starts writing the prescription. I was like “mmm… shouldn’t you listen to my lungs?” He sighs. Sticks the stethoscope in the middle of my chest and tells me to breath once which I can’t because I’m so congested that I start coughing. He says “why don’t you breath?” I say “shouldn’t you be telling me?” No blood test. No blood pressure. No thermometer! On the upside he did check my weight and I’ve lost 19 lbs since being here which I’m convinced is all just muscle mass because I don’t look much smaller. He writes me a prescription for not 1, not 2 but 4 medications including amoxycyllin so I ask, 1. “How do you know what I have is bacterial?” and 2. “If it is bacterial, shouldn’t I be taking something stronger than amoxycyllin?” (Granted, I’m not a doctor and don’t know anything about anything, but I just remember taking amoxycyllin for ear infections when I was a kid and am usually given zithromax or azythromycin these days.)

This guy definitely didn’t like my questions and basically ignored them. If you’re thinking it was a language barrier, it wasn’t. His English was impeccable.

I got the medications and went to school and looked them up. I hate blindly taking medicine. It makes me really uncomfortable. He put me on a basic pain pill – paracetamol, a chest decongestant, an expectorant and the antibiotic. Not bad. I stayed in bed all day but even though I was taking the medicines my fever kept going up up up up and by evening I was shaking, shivering, and dizzy. It’s an odd feeling to be shivering in Chennai; not a feeling I’ve felt yet. It was actually Liz’s bday on Thursday and we were supposed to throw her an “American pizza party”. So Shasta and Robert (Viola and Harpsichord) ordered tons of pizzas from Pizza Hut, got bad whiskey from “the wine shop” and managed to somehow find party hats and balloons. I went to this event for about five minutes (the draw was most certainly the pizza) but felt so bad I just said Happy Birthday and left. I couldn’t sleep all night; I was so cold and no one had a thermometer. The next morning I started sweating so I thought “Ok good, this is a good sign.” I sweated out the fever for about 3 hours. Everything was soaked but afterward I felt so much better. My appetite came back, I had color in my face, things were looking up. The chest pressure was gone but the expectorant just gave me a hacking cough that I figured would eventually subside.

It didn’t.

The cough got worse and worse and started to taste metallic by the end of the night. I think I really started freaking myself out at that point and started getting nervous which then started bringing back the fever. It’s scary to be sick in a foreign country. I started thinking, “Christ, what if I really really got sick here and had to deal with doctors like this guy??” I started getting really nervous, then cold, then the body aches started again etc. etc. So I called another doctor and he said “come to the hospital, they’ll observe you over night and see what’s going on.” He said he’ll meet me in the morning. Ok fine.

I go to the hospital. The hospital itself was quite nice. I had heard horror stories from Liz about the hospital she went to (she’s gone twice for food poisoning) but I just have to share this experience because it is just so ridiculous. I get to the hospital and they take my vitals so I think okay good. I then meet with 4 different doctors separately and have to tell each one the same story. Not only do they not immediately check my throat and lungs, but I have to volunteer my prior health history, to which they say “Why? You’ve had something before?”

Then the “sister” comes to take my blood and she pulls out a giant 16 gauge needle – and not the kind that fills by itself, it’s the kind where you have to pull the end to suck out the blood. Oh. My. God. I look at the needle and look at my arm and I know, I just know she won’t be able to find the vein. She looks at my arm. Her eyebrows furrow. She looks genuinely puzzled. She finally sticks it in. I know immediately that it’s not in the vein. I assume she’s going to try and reposition the needle which is definitely uncomfortable but NOT as uncomfortable as when she tries to SUCK the blood directly from my arm. I was like “It’s not in the vein.. it’s not in the vein… for the love of god IT’S NOT IN THE VEIN.” She starts getting really flustered, pulls out the needle and calls the other nurse. The other nurse looks at both arms and chooses my right. She inserts the needle cleanly and it’s done in a flash.

Meanwhile, Faez and Liz were buying my saline. How funny is that – they came with a grocery bag filled with 3 bottles of saline, the IV, and bandages, set it down on the bed and then the nurse proceeded to use these materials to insert the IV. There’s a little counter next to the registration desk where you can buy everything that’s necessary. I guess this is good in a way because you know you’re getting clean materials, but it’s just odd for us – what would happen in a real emergency situation? The doctors would just wait for the patient’s family to buy all required materials? Strange. Anyway, once again the giant needle comes out and she sticks it into the vein in my hand – not at all an unfamiliar sensation but just the length and width of the needle is so alarming. I couldn’t bend my wrist because I could feel the tip of the needle a little up my arm.

I was told that I would be “observed” overnight which is the only reason why I went. I thought, “okay, my fever goes all the way down and then spikes really high every couple of hours, so maybe it’s better to just go and let them figure out why.” The minute I get there they put me on a high dosage of a drug that is basically the equivalent to Tylenol which covers up the fever completely. An hour later the nurse takes my temperature and says “fever all gone!” with a smile. I’m like… “um, but all you did was give me tylenol, I could have done that myself.” She didn’t understand and left.

I also had a chest xray. As we all know, I’m a pretty seasoned patient by now. I figured they would take a chest xray to test for pneumonia and purposefully wore the appropriate clothing so I wouldn’t have to remove anything for the test. This caused a huge stir. The man handed me the apron. I said “don’t worry, I’m not wearing any metal.” There is a heated discussion between them. He still wants me to wear the apron. I say “seriously, I’m not wearing anything inside.” More angry discussion and emphatic hand gestures. “Compulsory.” “Fine.” What kind of place is this where the doctors themselves aren’t allowed to say the word “bra,” or ask if you’re wearing one? Total and utter nonsense.

Meanwhile during the course of the night I’m getting bitten raw by really large ambitious mosquitoes while simultaneously being tested for malaria. What a cruel joke. The hospital was really clean but was just absolutely infested with mosquitoes. I slept with the sheet all the way over my head and must have resembled a giant vanilla jelly bean.

In the morning Dr. Girija finally came back and said “your tests are inconclusive. You can go.” “Huh?” “You have nothing, you can leave.” If I have a 104+ fever there is clearly something going on. “No, you have nothing.” “I clearly have something.” “Maam, you have nothing. You can go.” And then I started thinking, oh my god maybe I’m really just going bonkers and I’m having a really intense physical manifestation of homesickness etc. etc. etc. I had to admit it was possible. So I was discharged with a prescription sheet. As I was getting them filled I happened to look more closely at the sheet. Above the written prescriptions was a small box in which it said:

Diagnosis: Bronchitis, Pharyngitis

Now was that so hard?

A Long but Fun Day

I had a really long day yesterday: I started teaching at 10 am and ended at 5 in the evening which doesn't seem like a lot, but I'm learning that teaching really is exhausting; I never realized how much of yourself you have to give for someone to learn from you. By the end of the day, I just wanted to go home and sleep. One of my students and I had discussed looking into taking a yoga class together because we can see the sign from the conservatory and it's just a 2 minute walk from school. So after teaching we went together to check out the yoga studio and the lady was really wonderful. We're taking a three month course for 1400 rupees; one hour, three times a week for three months, and it includes meditation, poses, and nutritional counseling. She does all of her yoga classes on the rooftop terrace which will be pretty intense, but hopefully by evening it won't be so hot outside.

I had put my phone on silent while I was in the yoga class and totally forgot about it. I went to dinner with one of the faculty members, came home, took a shower, got into bed and reached for my phone to set my alarm for the next day. When I picked up my phone I saw that there were like 15 missed calls and 8 text messages all from the other faculty trying to get a hold of me. I finally called Selva back and... drum roll please....

He asked if I was available to do a recording session with Rahman! So of course I said yes, jumped out of bed, got ready and ran over to the studio. I walked in and found that Eilidh and Michael had also been called to record (cello and percussion) and we sat and waited for Rahman to come. He shows up and says Eilidh will go first so I just sit in the studio and watch while her tracks are being edited. A man then walks in and starts discussing the movie with Rahman and I introduce myself thinking he's a Tamil director (I swear I'm not a Hindi film snob; I just don't know anything about Tamil directors or actors so they're somewhat irrelevant in my head).  He asked if I spoke Hindi and I said no but then started throwing out random Hindi words that I know.  The guy laughed and left. Selva immediately was like "do you know who that was? You just met Shubash Ghai." Um. EEEEEEEEEEE!!! I just met a huge director and the song that I'm singing on is in his new film Yuvraaj which is coming out in a couple months. So from what I understand I'm going to be doing background operatic singing in one of the songs because apparently this movie is about an Australian orchestra or something so it includes a choir, western classical music and opera. Should be really interesting and I'm really ecstatic to start recording. There wasn't time to do it last night so I'm scheduled to record Thursday afternoon. The cd should be available in a few weeks!  I can't wait to see my name on the back cover.  Eee!

I'll let you know how it goes.

Flu/Musings

There isn't really much to talk about this week because I was ill for most of it. And NO it's not from the chaat stand and NO it wasn't a stomach issue. I guess the seasons are changing or something (I don't really understand this because every day feels exactly the same: hot, hotter and hottest) and most of the students have been coming down with the flu and of course I was the first one to catch it. For two days I was really actually ill with a fever, chills, coughing and nasal/chest congestion. It is quite odd to have the flu when it's 100 degrees outside. I spent a couple days in my apartment sweating it out (which was oh so fun when the power went out) but after two days I wasn't just better, I was refreshed and completely back to normal. Usually when I get the flu back home, I'm out for at least a week. I've never gotten over a cold so quickly and that too with zero meds. I don't know how to ask for things at the pharmacy here. I asked someone to pick up something for me that alleviated nasal congestion and the person returned with shady looking red pills with no dosage instruction, no directions saying how much you can take or how long you have to wait before taking it again, and an ingredients list that included Caffeine as one of the main active ingredients. Hmmm. No thanks.

Nevertheless I am completely well and back to normal. The students are so sweet. When I came back to school on Friday they huddled around me to see how I was feeling and whether they could get me anything. Can you imagine that happening in the States? I can't. Right now I am trying to prepare tomorrow's lesson plan for choir. They're starting to get the hang of singing multiple melodies at once and I think they'll be really good by the end of the semester. Hopefully we can start singing some exciting music soon. I don't think they ever thought music would be so difficult - or ever considered it to be a disciplined craft. Some students are telling me that they've never had so much fun learning and that they've never felt so comfortable with a teacher, and some students are telling me that I have killed their musical spirit and that they hate music now because of me - because I keep going on and on about good technique instead of letting them continue with their bad habits. So some people hate me and some love me - I guess that's a good sign.

My favorite part of being here is riding on the rickshas. I always feel like I'm in a video game and the goal is to get from point A to point B but there are all these hurdles blocking your path. What's funny is that the ricksha drivers look so gleeful when they see us scared to death holding each other for dear life in the back. Whenever we scream I can see the guy look back at us with a giant smile from ear to ear. I think they get a kick out of it.

Since being here my ricksha adventures have included:

One that almost turned upside down when making a sharp turn
One that just died in the middle of the road where the driver had to push us to the gas station.
One driver decided he needed a break and stopped the ricksha so he could drink water for 10 minutes with his buddies.
One that almost got hit by a bus
One that drove directly headfirst into a cop on a motorbike. The cop didn't seem to care; they exchanged some words and then both went merrily on their way.

I have also learned that I am a champion haggler. We went to this street that has loads and loads of fabric stalls up and down and I bought some really amazing fabric for dirt cheap. They see us and they immediately say like 80 or 100 rupees per meter and I have actually brought them down to like 30. How crazy is that? It's almost exhausting in a way. I'm kind of getting sick of it because it's just so silly. Both people know that both people are acting.

He says "great price madam, 80 rupees meter"
To which I roll my eyes dramatically and scoff "Yeah right, that's ridiculous" and walk away.
To which he says "okay okay okay come, I'll give you, what price you want?"
"You give me two and a half meters for 100 and I'll take it."
"Vaaaat Madam? This is too less..."
"Okay bye then, thank you."
"Okay Okay Okay come.. I give you for 110."
"No, 100."
"10 rupees madam, I give for 110."
"No. 100."
"110."
"100."
"110."
"100."
And with a reluctant side nod I get it for 100.

It's exhausting. Sometimes you just want to see something and buy it.

This is Ram. He is the boy who comes to clean the apartment. He wanted to have his picture taken so we took one together.






These are the construction workers who are working on the house. They always come and say "Hello! How are you!" and we say "Fine!" One of them saw that we had nail polish and asked if she could paint her fingernails. They were so fascinated by it. They were also fascinated by spray-on deodorant.

Celebrity

I have randomly had the most celebrity-esque week and I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. First of all, two newspapers/magazines came to KM; (I think one of them was like Hindustani Times, or Hindu Times or something) and when one of the administrators approached me and said they wanted to interview me, i said "but... why?" I've never been interviewed before... formally. It was a very interesting experience and it's funny how people try and get the "juice" out of you. He kept asking me questions about A.R. and what I thought of him and I think I successfully dodged some pretty serious traps. There was only one moment when I thought "Wait, maybe I shouldn't have said that." The interviewer was suspiciously charismatic and made me feel like I should tell him everthing I know. They're clever aren't they? The attention was delightful.

Then, one of the biggest names on the advisory board of KM came to do a concert in Chennai on Friday evening and did a workshop with the students on Saturday: L. Subramaniam; better known as the husband of Kavitha Krishnamurthy. Yes, I met them both and they are quite humble and lovely. The concert Friday evening was on the beach and it was amazing to hear Carnatic music on a handmade violin with 5 strings, while digging my feet into the sand and hearing the sound of the waves in the distance. Before the concert I ate chaat at a stand and hung out with my fellow faculty members and a new friend who used to play with A.R.: Paul Jacob. He's an amazing musician who has his own studio here in Chennai. He goes to remote villages around the country and records amateur musicians playing rare folk instruments. He played some of his stuff for us and it's amazing how tribal and African it sounds. He then mixes it with typical south Indian music which creates a really bizarre but cool fusion. Really great music.

The next day L. Subramaniam gave his lecture to the students at KM and Kavitha sat in the back with their kids. I got a chance to meet her, but acted like a total idiot. For some reason I was totally and utterly star struck. I'm generally not big on celebrities. I don't read magazines. I don't keep up with celebrity gossip. But for whatever reason I was acting like a total weirdo so I removed myself from the situation immediately. It's strange to think that I've been listening to her all my life and now I'm like working with her husband. Weird.

So that's the news for this week. More to follow.

Agni Kavadi

I was walking home from the conservatory and suddenly found myself in the middle of a huge religious celebration involving many rituals I had never seen before.  It was the most bizarre experience to turn a corner and find yourself in the middle of something so ornate and ritualistic. I looked it up immediately and learned that what I had walked in on was the Agni Kavadi festival of Chennai.

The Kavadi festival is celebrated by the devotees of lord Muruga and involves a long processional from the Palani hills by a man carrying a large gold and flower adorned diety on his head to the Muruga temple which apparently is on my street.  I had no idea. 

The journey to the temple is filled with songs dedicated to Muruga, dancing and loud rhythmic drumming.  In this processional men and women carry baskets filled with fruits, coconuts, vegetables, rice, and milk as an offering for the god.  Even animals like goats and roosters are brought along for the ride.  

The Agni Kavadi (which I experienced) is the most intense offering to the god.  Once the people finally arrive at the temple, they have to walk across pits of burning coal as their final hurdle before entering the temple. It is said that the men who cross this fire come out unscathed because of their devotion.  Oh and did I mention that these men also had their lips sewed shut with long silver lances pierced through their face?  I don't know.  I feel like your body would be confused as to what it should tend to first - feet or face.  

It was absolutely amazing to watch and everyone was so nice to us.  They offered us food and took our pictures.  I felt a little like a specimen and I'm sure our picture is in some Tamil newspaper somewhere as "the foreigners who came to worship."  

The Meat Point

Good lord. I made the mistake of thinking I could cook in this country and I clearly cannot. Apparently western cooking techniques don't exactly work here because of the climate, products and cooking apparatuses. First of all, I don't have a stove and assumed that a hot plate would work just as well as gas or electric range. Mmm, it doesn't. Second, the humidity in the air does something bizarre to food here. I'll explain in a minute. And third, the products are so unfamiliar that making assumptions about cooking/boiling time won't work.

Which brings me to... The Meat Point. [Insert loud booming sounds of impending doom]. I went to get groceries at what I thought was a more western grocery store and found ingredients like vinegar, soy sauce, pasta etc. I was ecstatic. I thought "Yes! I don't have to eat sambar rice and butter chicken for nine months, Huzzah!" So I thought, tonight let's make a thai chicken curry with white rice. Simple enough, right? No. Chicken. I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to buy raw meat in Chennai, but it is an experience I will never forget. Down the street from my apartment is what is called a Meat Point. This is exactly what you think it is - the place where they sell meat. The thing I wasn't anticipating, was that it's also the place where they Kill the animals to give you the meat. *Shudder. I walked over to find a man holding four screaming live chickens by their necks holding a cleaver in the other hand and I almost died. In the states, somehow it's possible to avoid the fact that you're actually eating an animal that was once living and breathing. When meat comes neatly packaged with no blood, fat or hair, it's easy to turn a blind eye. But the meat point certainly brought me back to reality. Eeek! While the guy was struggling to hack off their heads, the healthy chickens in the cage watched in horror as the wall behind him became completely splattered with blood. Within 10 minutes my chicken was de-feathered, de-boned, chopped and weighed. I wanted to vomit.

Nevertheless I came home and attempted to cook this meal and failed miserably. What the bottle described as thai tomato seasoning was actually ketchup and later when I tried to boil milk, it suspiciously became paneer.

I don't know man. I think I'll just order out from now on.
------------------------------

On a happier note, I went around the neighborhood and took pictures. The area is so fun and I'm actually starting to see how beautiful India is when you actually take the time to look:
There is tiny little temple that I pass on the way to work every day with an amazingly intricate roof. I barely noticed it the first few times I walked that way, but I'm starting to notice things more and more each day. Why would someone build such an intricate roof over a temple that can only fit one person in it at a time? I don't know but isn't it beautiful?

This is a street really close to where I live. On the left side of the street is where the ice cream bicyclists reside ( I don't know why but there are like dozens of men on bicycles with freezers attached the back who sell ice cream.)  And on the right is I believe a doctor's office.

Amethyst is a restaurant that all of the faculty went to a couple days ago.  It's supposed to be French, but it's actually everything except for Indian.  We enjoyed bruschetta with pomodoro e pesto, A spinach salad with fresh slices of pear, real blue cheese and walnuts,  and I actually got to eat an Indian spiced burger.  Like, a real burger made with real beef but with Indian spice.  

Absolutely delicious.  When you come to visit, we'll go.