Dance your cares away, worries for another day.
Let the music play down in Fragglerock!
Does anyone else have childhood memories of dancing around in front of the TV to that song? Remember the joy? I hope so, because that precise emotion was what I felt as I ran onto a bus bound for the railway station Monday morning. My overstuffed bag followed me on the bus to the train through the rickshaw onto the ferry and finally to a dry corner of a hotel in Fort Cochin, Kerala. It poured rain the entire time, so dry is a key word. Although the area is for tourists and every time I go outside I'm heralded with a chorus of “Madame! Come into my store,” it's still laid back and has a cafe called “The T-Shop” down the street. I would never have thought all of my wildest dreams could come true in one cafe, but when I saw waffles and peppermint tea on the menu, I realized they could. And they did.
My research group came to Kerala for a retreat, and it has been a much-needed and enjoyed break. I decided I could use a massage, so Liann and I ventured into an Ayruvedic ladies' beauty shop, and wow. That was a first. India is teaching me to be very comfortable with myself. As a woman in rural India, I'm expected to drape myself with three layers of cloth and keep my ankles covered; but in the city I'm expected to be okay to all kinds of exposure in the name of health. It's almost too much for the Western mind to handle, so I've begun adopting Eastern perspectives. Right now my sense of privacy is decidedly Eastern. With this in mind, if I stand claustrophobically close to you when I come back, just give me a gentle shove; I'll know what you're doing.
Let the music play down in Fragglerock!
Does anyone else have childhood memories of dancing around in front of the TV to that song? Remember the joy? I hope so, because that precise emotion was what I felt as I ran onto a bus bound for the railway station Monday morning. My overstuffed bag followed me on the bus to the train through the rickshaw onto the ferry and finally to a dry corner of a hotel in Fort Cochin, Kerala. It poured rain the entire time, so dry is a key word. Although the area is for tourists and every time I go outside I'm heralded with a chorus of “Madame! Come into my store,” it's still laid back and has a cafe called “The T-Shop” down the street. I would never have thought all of my wildest dreams could come true in one cafe, but when I saw waffles and peppermint tea on the menu, I realized they could. And they did.
My research group came to Kerala for a retreat, and it has been a much-needed and enjoyed break. I decided I could use a massage, so Liann and I ventured into an Ayruvedic ladies' beauty shop, and wow. That was a first. India is teaching me to be very comfortable with myself. As a woman in rural India, I'm expected to drape myself with three layers of cloth and keep my ankles covered; but in the city I'm expected to be okay to all kinds of exposure in the name of health. It's almost too much for the Western mind to handle, so I've begun adopting Eastern perspectives. Right now my sense of privacy is decidedly Eastern. With this in mind, if I stand claustrophobically close to you when I come back, just give me a gentle shove; I'll know what you're doing.
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