Day 3 Downtown Gwalior

Every time I would say "Gwalior" people would look at me like they had no idea what town I was talking about. I would repeat myself and then they would say, "Oh, Gwalior." Yes, I would think, that's what I said. Gwalior. To me, the pronunciation was exactly the same, but evidently, since it took people awhile to figure out what I was talking about, I can't say it right.

At Snehalaya, the volunteers live on the second floor. The guys in charge of running the place live on the third floor, as does Radha, the 11 year old who was left at a train station and taken to Mercy Home, almost dead. Luckily, she ended up at Snehalaya. She's got HIV and the charity pays for her meds. She's in good health and goes off to school everyday like any other kid.

On the first floor is the kitchen, the living quarters for the kitchen staff, and the classrooms for the kids. Here's a view from the roof of the main building (where Paige would go to smoke in the evenings and I would sit there and chat with her). It shows the cottages where the kids (except for Radha) live with their caretakers. It also shows the playground where I regularly got roped into pushing kids on the swings and then trying to mediate the fights that inevitably broke out when other kids wanted to yank the current swing occupants to the ground.

In the mornings I'd wake up with a cold shower, make myself some eggs and toast and eat whatever spicy breakfast concoction Raju would bring up from the kitchen. Spicy food for breakfast? Yes, everything is spicy in India except the yogurt. Once I got over being worried about eating yogurt that would sit in the fridge for days when the power goes on and off, the food became much easier to eat. I would heap globs of yogurt into everything, mix it up, and scoop it into the little roti (another non-spicy thing). Here's a typical dinner or lunch. Dahl (always super hot, most of the time I couldn't finish it off), some kind of bean dish, a heap of yogurt, and the roti. There were also fantastic tomatoes. Raju laughed when he saw me take this picture. At 0900 every day was morning assembly. The kids would all line up and the teachers would sing the national anthem (most of the kids would just make noise). For whatever reason, they insisted that all the kids stand for the song. Even the autistic guy. That meant someone had to hold him in place. I didn't see the point really, if he sat down or stood, as long as he didn't wander off. But what do I know? Here's Sibu before morning assembly. He was almost always squealing with delight. He'd laugh and then lean forward, exposing his neck to be blown on. I was always happy to comply. When I'd take him for a spin, he'd stomp his feet in excitement as we zoomed around.

Here's Subhash, who is another sweet kid. He mimed that he wanted his picture taken and then he put his little arm around me for the photo.

And another picture of Vishal. I think these three boys were my favorites. Some of the girls drove me absolutely bonkers, but these guys were laid back and easy to please. Subhash can get out of his wheelchair and scoot along on the floor. If they had a walker that could fit him, he could probably be a lot more mobile. Vishal's got some hip problems that could have been surgically solved when he was smaller that would've made it possible for him to walk. The doctors now say they've got to wait until he's done growing.

After hanging out in one of the classrooms for the morning, Paige and I caught a ride into town. We went to the "mall" for ice cream and lunch and hit the internet place so I could print off my notes for the lecture they wanted me to give.

Then we went to the market, only it was Tuesday, which meant that most places were closed (I have no idea why). I was hoping to find something for Mama, but Gwalior just isn't a good place for that. I wasn't even able to find a single postcard.

The most annoying thing about being conspicuous (as in tall and white) in a place like Gwalior is trying to cross the street. Not only is such a feat dang near death defying, but as soon as we would pause near the road, auto rickshaws would head right for us. Getting an auto rickshaw was obviously not a problem, but trying to cross the street when they insisted on getting in our way was really frustrating. Walking around Gwalior wasn't very much fun. Open sewers, flies, and those pesky rickshaws stopping right in front of me so I had to detour around them (often they came in packs), was enough to make me crazy. And when we finally wanted a rickshaw, we got a guy who agreed to Rs. 80 and then asked for more when we got to Snehalaya. That bent me out of shape, but Paige just paid him, not in the mood to haggle.

We spent the rest of that day lazing around. We played with the kids and I worked on my lecture, wondering how many people would show up and how good their English would be (since my Hindi consists of less than a dozen words).