Yep, that's what I said, and it just about sums up the past two weeks. This is gonna be another long entry, and hopefully not too disorganized. I don't know if it's India, if it's because I've been in a specific community for a month, or what, but this month has thrown me more extremes than I've had to juggle in a long while. I bought a sari, and the first time I wore it the women and girls suddenly became my entourage. A local girl killed herself because her parents didn't approve of the boy she wanted to marry. Small children threw berries down for us to nibble on as three friends and I took a dip in an irrigation well to cool off from the heat. And more.....

Probably easiest to write an update on is the project. It kicks butt. The walls of the 20x30 classroom are almost done, with beautiful arches over all the windows and doorway, and the two smaller rooms adjacent are about halfway finished. We're concentrating on the classroom, and will work on plastering and sculptural detailing this week so that the local guys have a chance to work on those things before the instructor/designer goes. I've built a bunch of windowseats, shelves and benches out of cob, which is a mix of sand, clay, straw and water. I can't believe how strong this stuff is! And I really dig not only the feeling of working with the material, but the end result... it's stunning. This is going to be one beautiful school, I'll tell ya!

What's really cool is how the local workers have picked up on the materials and techniques we're using. The first week we were here, there was a strong "us" and "them" divide in terms of our approaches to building. They were all about the concrete, the rectilinear shapes, the fired brick. We were all about the mud and the fluid rounded shapes. Just last week there was a massive shift. These guys started slinging mud, they started dancing in the mixing pits, they were throwing up walls and arches faster than you can say "Oh build me a home..." We had to elbow our way in just to have a place to work! I'm happy to know that they respect this kind of building, and enjoy it, and have claimed so much ownership over the building. Even though the building's not done, I believe they will continue with what we collectively started, and maybe even bring it into their work elsewhere.

We had our official closing celebration for the workshop last night. Lots of local bigwigs and villagers and whoall came out for a couple of hours, checked out the work that we've done so far, listened to short speeches, drank lots of tea. I wore the cotton sari that I bought last weekend, and the girls and women flipped out. They came and helped me put it on, they put flowers in my hair, one woman even plucked the bindi off her forehead and stuck it on mine! And then they stayed with me until it was time for them to go home, holding my hands, asking my name, introducing me to sisters and mothers and aunties. It's mindblowing how challenging it is to communicate without language, but once I stopped freaking out (Omigod what are we going to talk about???) and relaxed, it was one of the most comfortable and welcoming moments I've had. If I can't talk with someone, I have to decide to either withdraw or open up to a point where simply being together is OK, where words stop getting in the way. Possibly the most surprising moment for them was when I stepped in to "bowl" (pitch) to a boy with a cricket bat, and then batted as well. I didn't do to shabby, for a "girl", but it's hard to move that way with 8 yards of fabric wrapped and draped and tucked and folded around your body!

We're a small group onsite now. All of the Thais are gone, and all of the Indians, as well as most of the group. There's 7 of us left, and we'll all be straggling out around next weekend, plus a handful of local people who stay at our campsite to cook and whatnot. It's cozy, and in some ways, I appreciate that the group isn't splitting up suddenly. I like that I'm able to slowly ease my way back into travelling alone.

I hit a pretty tough emotional spot the other day. It's impossible to be anonymous here as a foreigner. For the most part that's OK. A couple days ago I borrowed a bike to go into the nearby town. On my way back, I saw a funeral procession coming my way, so I pulled over to let them by. Most people along the street stopped what they were doing to watch the procession. Trucks and scooters slowed down and stopped their incessant honking as a way of paying their respects. As the procession neared, I realized that it was the local girl who killed herself because her parents wouldn't let her marry the boy she wanted to. As they got even nearer, the hired drummers and dancer in front saw me, and started smiling and winking and playing to me. I felt so angry that suddenly, in the midst of this funeral procession, these guys diverted all this attention to me just because I'm novel to them. As if my novelty were more important than the tragic suicide of the girl being carried behind them. After they passed, I continued on my way, almost shaking, tears in my eyes, angry and sad and heartsick and disbelieving and most of all tired. Deeply tired of standing out. I just wanted to go home, to be surrounded by familiar things, to *be* familiar and not foreign.

And as I rounded the corner, a group of women working in a brickyard saw me and called out my name. They waved so enthusiastically, and their smiles absolutely radiated, colorful saris stirring in the breeze, bright sun overhead, small children running down the lane. I couldn't have felt more welcomed, it was such a simple moment, an easy greeting. And I wouldn't have had that moment if I weren't foreign either. So I'm struggling with the mixed bag of being "other." There's lots of attention that is honest and open and caring and welcoming; there's lots of attention that is invasive and greedy and demanding and occasionally lewd. There's rarely not lots of attention.

The cook invited us all to his brother's wedding next week. I think I'll be the only one here, but I want to go. How often does one get to go to a wedding in India? Right after that, I plan to go about two hours away to join a pilgrimage to one of India's holiest mountains. Every full moon, 60,000 or so people spend the night walking around the base of the mountain. A friend of mine here gave me a short book on it, and I will explain more after I read it.

So hey, it's hot and lunchtime. I need a lassi! I will have more regular email access soon as I start travelling through bigger towns and cities, so I will hopefully be able to write more frequently and less lengthily! Love to you all!

Namaste,
Valerie