Coconut Thwackers and the Like

After the orphanage, I jumped the 5:30 down south. It was the strangest train ride I've ever taken- even more so than the ones with the tourists headed to Chicago who, from their looks alone, couldn't say "I'm from Milwaukee" any louder even if they screamed it. I began the ride laying on my bags. I figured this way nothing could get stolen. After about 12 minutes, this was extremely uncomfortable and I continued to toss and turn until it was lights out. Who would have thought that there would be lights out on an overnight train? I was in sleeper class, so at night, each compartment turned into a triple-high bunk bed. This wasn't too bad and I got some sleep, more than I thought I would. The drive into Nagercoil was quite pretty. There were well-tended farms of grass and mountains in the background. I guess you could call these rocky outbursts mountains. They definitely don't have the regal shape of Vail or the Swiss Alps, but some were fairly tall. Their silhouette would look something like this: close your eyes and with your non- dominant hand draw one hill, then another beside it, then another beside that one. You have just created these exact mountains. I have pictures if I can ever find a USB plug. One thing I thought was particularly funny on the train ride was the seller carrying a national Geographic under on arm and a paint bucket of some sort of roasted nut in the other. He walked up and down the aisles yelling a chant and when stopped, would rip a page out of the mag, roll it into a cone, scoop up some of the nuts and hand it to the buyer. What interesting presentation, I must say!

Well, I made it because here I am in an internet cafe in Nagercoil. I arrived at 6:30 in the AM on Saturday morning to find out that the three teachers and other volunteer from the school were going to Kanyakumari for the day. Of course, I tagged along, weary from the trip, but happy to finally be at my destination. We toured the sights, watched the sunet over the beach, and smiled at the many people taking the "holy bath." The waters are supposedly so sacred that if you dip into them you will be cleansed of all your sins. The swimmers didn't look like they were using their swimming time to be holy. The boys were dunking one another, and the girls (dressed head to toe in their salwars) stood and splashed at the water. I was asked to be in about 500 pictures of groups of friends who wanted to look like they knew a Western girl. My favorite one was a giggling group of high school seniors (boys and girls) who ran up to me and asked me my name and my country as if they had just learned those two questions in English. They swarmed me and, for once, I felt bad for Lindsay Lohan.

The Coconut Thwackers (as I have named them) are street vendors who wheel around carts stacked high with green Indian coconuts. For ten rupees (twenty cents), they will take a curved machete and easily wack off one end, then make a small hole in it with the tip of the knife, shove a straw into it and watch you sip away. Now, the juice doesn't taste like anything, really. It isn't coconut milk. It is coconut water and tastes mostly like water. I think the appeal is looking like you are at a tropical resort drinking some big pina colada from the original shell.

Anyway, the next morning I woke up with a bad case of something. I stayed in bed all day and didn't eat a thing (this is a big deal for me). I slept on and off and felt the usual weakness, shakes, fever, and sweating (oh, this isn't out of the norm). It took the whole day until the infamous traveller's bathroom-loving time came, but it did and I slept soundly. This morning, I felt fine, ate one dosa for breakfast and went on my way for the first day of school. Now I realize this is not anything like what I am used to, but this REALLY isn't like anything I am used to. The method of teaching seemed totally inefficient. The social studies lesson consisted of me reading "the capitol of [African country] if..." numerous times, then they would repeat it word for word. We managed to get through five countries and their capitols today. The English lesson is taught to five students- ranging in age from 5 to 13. Again, it is very hard to get across a solid concept because one can barely read and the oldest is in 7th grade! More updates on how this will play out later. For now, I am off to wander around this strange country and crave Western life just a little bit more. When the other volunteer leaves (in one week), I will move in with the principal of the school and his family. Right now, I am living with his sister and her husband in a very nice room with my own bathroom! With a toilet!! This has potential to be another Riches to Rags story. Oh how I long for the West...