Reality Check

Following my crazy Bazaar Tour I met up with one of the other teaching assistants from the British Council who had come out early, and another girl from my hostel visiting from Qatar but originally from Canada. We had a great day looking at the insanity of colonial history in the fort museum,  still home to many a relic, but also offices for diplomats and other government figures. We went to the beach and ate Poori, small deep fried bread served with chickpea curry and shredded noodles. We drank coffee so sweet I thought it may give me diabetes (there were about two table spoons of sugar to an expresso sized cup!

We walked and walked through the markets and through the streets looking at second hand bookstores, wandering farm animals, shoe makers, chai stalls, sweet shops and so much more. Tiring from the walk, and the heat and the  noise we got in a tuk-tuk back to Mylapore, near to my hostel. We stopped off in a vegetarian restaurant near to the temple and had a feast of Behl Poori (a bit like warm bombay mix)  Masala Dosa (thin and enormous rice pancakes, served with chutney and samba), Lassi (sweetened thick yogurt curd drink). We finished off with some ice cream and then went for an evening stroll around the temple. 

By some stroke of luck we walked into the middle of a classical dance display. A very proud father explained to us that his daughter was taking part. She took lessons every week at the temple, and twice a month they did a public display, for their parents, members of the public, and anyone worshipping in the temple. The girls looked amazing in fantastic outfits, adorned layers of make up and more jewellery than I have ever seen. A great way to end the evening. 


Another day another Dosa.  Sunday morning started with a breakfast of Masala Dosa,  clearly regarded in Chennai as the kind of food you can eat at any meal time. I agree, but i'm not sure this number if pancakes is going to be particularly good for me....A quick pack up of all my stuff and then left the modest hostel for the 4 star luxury of the Residency Tower Hotel. A stark but nice contrast. I can remember on leaving Thailand 4 years ago I vowed not to backpack again, and entering the cool air conditioned reception of The Residency, made me remember why. The crisp bed linen, the roof top bar, the laundry service, am I too old for all of this? Am I going to find myself near the air conditioning unit?

We had 3 nights in the hotel with 2 and a half days training from the British Council. Lots of new learning, lots of revision for me about interactive teaching techniques, and a great oportunity to get to know the other people taking part in the program. We met our host schools and had a chance to work with them looking at expectations and what each of us hopes to gain from this opportunity. It was interesting even in the early stages to recognise some of the similarities and differences between the British and Indian education systems, and the government and privately run schools. 

We had fantastic food, both in the hotel and also on a visit to one of the senior members of the British Council. It was great to meet all the teaching assistants and realise we had such similar hopes and expectations of the projects. We made plans with our host schools and learnt about the students and teachers we would be meeting in just a few days, but all within the confines of the hotel.  I'm really pleased I came out a few days early to see Chennai, and get a feel for what India is like. Although our training was pretty comprehensive in explaining cultural differences and what to be aware of, there's only so much you can say in a air conditioned conference room.......and all the explanations in the world wouldn't really have prepared me for arrival in my new home....Gurgaon.

Me and Tom, also working in my school, travelled with Rina,  the director of our organisation, on the 2.5 hour flight from Chennai to Delhi. Dropped off to my new apartment hot, tired and hungry, I have to say I was a little bit disappointed. We had been told we'd be living on the top for of a house,  with a guard, cook and cleaner. All oft these things are true, but in a juch more modest way than my imagination had chosen to hope for. Reality really hit home the following morning when I sat on my balcony. The cook had brought me banana, apple and cornflakes (with warm milk) for breakfast.  I hate warm milk on pretty much anything, but as the sun shone over my new view I realiased my balcony over looks a slum. I ate all my warm cornflakes.