ENGLISH AS MY SECOND LANGUAGE

If someone asks me what languages I speak, I have to admit that I only speak one: English. If I’m trying to impress I will claim that I know bits and pieces of other languages but that usually just ends me up in a tangled mess of prevarication. However, after living in southern Indian for three months I feel I can proudly boast another language: English… Indian style.

TRIVANDRUM

I have been in Trivandrum, Kerala, since last Sunday morning. For those of you just tuning in, I came here for the annual national All Indian Occupational Therapy Association conference. When I first learned that the national OT conference was going to be held at the end of February, I decided that I should go if all the right parties permitted. It was a chance in a lifetime to attend the national conference of another OT association. I will be dedicating a post to the conference at a later date for those interested in knowing more about the happenings there. This is about Trivandrum.

AN INDIAN WEDDING

Last week Charlie and I made our first public saree debut. It was epic. Not just because we were two white girls in sarees, but because of the event surrounding the reason for donning sarees. The occasion was an Indian wedding. Somehow we managed to snag an invitation to the reception and wedding ceremony of one of the physios who currently works at the CMC Rehabilitation Institute. We had purchased sarees with the hope that we would be able to wear them at a wedding here. Cultural (diving in), ya know? And to a wedding dressed in sarees we went!

TRAVEL BY BUS

I have written a few lines about travel in India and few lines about being the only blue eyes on the bus. I’d like to describe in a little more detail what it is like to travel by bus during “rush hour” in India. Before I give much detail, I’m sure you immediately imagine a crowded bus bumping along at a fairly high rate of speed. You would not be wrong. Imagining this situation and being in this situation, however, are two very different things. I’d like to try and transport you to a place of “being” in this situation.

YEARS IN THE MAKING?

As a young kid, I have memories of almost dreading dinner time. I love eating and I love my family so it was not the food or the fellowship that soured my soul. It was the manners. My dear mother had her work cut out for her when it came to me and my eating habits. I would argue that I wasn’t the most slovenly person around the dinner table, but clearly my manners were not up to my mother’s standards. She was bound and determined to make a lady out of me. I don’t really remember a dinner with my mom where she wasn’t giving me discrete (or not so discrete) visual and verbal cues to sit straighter, lift my hand higher, chew quieter, or sit farther away from the table, or (my personal favorite) to stop playing with my food. Every time she would flash me a signal I would think, “Shoot dang! I really should remember this by now. Why can’t I have one dinner where I get it right?” Perhaps I was taking the “Einstein approach” by not committing to memory the information that is readily available. I knew her commands would haunt me at any dinner table, so why bother actually learning to follow them without cues. Regardless of the reason, dinners were a challenge for me.

SO SAREE

My initial thoughts about purchasing a saree could be described as “nonchalant,” or “disinterested.” After all, I only plan on being in India for a short time and I would probably never have occasion to wear one anywhere but here. The sensible and practical girl in me thought better than to spend money on an item I would probably wear once. I’m not sure where that sensible and practical girl went, because last week this girl purchased not one, but two sarees. Yes, that’s right. I really don’t care if I will ever wear them outside the borders of this fair country, I will have the memories made while wearing them here. Besides, I could possibly use the material for something meaningful once I’m back in my motherland.