As our bus rolls onto the cracked pavement, we step onto the bus, and immediately the smell of strong native spices hit our noses. The bus’s narrow path forces the bulges of our stomachs in as we attempt to squeeze through the rows, before squashing into a squeaky seat. Soon enough, our bus bumps along the dusty, orange, and beaten paths as we arrive at our destination.
Read MoreIt was more difficult than it looked. The woman that greeted us was moving with the fluidity of a well-oiled machine; forwards and backwards, in and out, her hands kneaded the dough and her fingers perforated through the thickness of its structure. The repetition was graceful, rapid and reflecting the mastery of muscles that had moved in this way thousands of times before.
Read MoreIt’s a dance, a syncopated rhythm. The back legs of the camel chase after the front, the thick joints rubbing against each other with each consistent step. The dance is accompanied by the jingling clatter of bells that encircle its ankles. I must say, I had never been so close to the behind of a camel before.
Read MoreHe was small for a sixth grader but his confidence filled up the village, his laughter booming throughout the schoolyard. He had black, untamed hair and dark skin. He wore the same uniform as every other student in primary school, yet he stood out from the rest through the means by which he carried himself.
Read MoreWith red paint clutching a single grain of rice thoughtfully placed between my eyes and above my nose, I was paraded through Lilapur. The streets we crossed were dusty, dry and uneven, with holes and cracks and made of materials ranging from concrete to brick to dirt. Men, women, and children peered from they’re windows or stood and sat in place, like statues, as we passed them by.
Read MoreAs our bus rumbled down the dirt path leading into Lilapur and away from our hotel, refreshing, cold air blew onto my face, my body jumped in my seat at every turn, and chatter from those around me filled my ears. I felt the earth beneath me slowing down and finally looked away from the window.
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Coming to this trip, I’m leaving behind my responsibilities .All those external distraction vanish into the thin air as if they never existed in the first place.
Read MoreThere’s an inherent cynicism that has always accompanied my thoughts and perceptions that I could not really imagine myself without. Andover has not only accentuated that cynicism, but also made me unable to separate myself from it. Everything I read, I see, I do, I always take with a grain of salt, searching for fallacies or signs of dishonesty or reasons to distrust.
Read MoreControl. As I travel to a place far away where I know little of the culture, cannot speak the language, and am in a strange environment I am forced to realize that my world is no longer in my control.
Read MoreI want to leave the student in me behind; not the ability to learn and be kind thoughtful rather the persistence of stress, time management, and sided thinking.
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