School is over. Thursday was the last day, and exams started yesterday. There were exams yesterday and today, but there will not be any tomorrow. They start up again Monday and continue through Friday. I have my first exam, English, on Monday, and my last, Hindi, on Thursday. Everyone is studying. I am also studying, but I find myself easily distracted. I have worked out a good system, study until I can’t concentrate anymore, and then pack until I feel better, then study again. I have to pack up all of the things that I want to take home. Most of the other girls can leave two trunks here, but those of us who are not coming back for the second semester have to take everything back home.

I have two trunks, two suitcases, and a school sized backpack. My trunks are weird for Woodstock trunks. Most of the trunks people have here are huge, square, and metal. My trunks are still huge, but less so, they are rounded, and they are made of black plastic. I would recommend that anyone planning to come to Woodstock get trunks, but get the most brightly colored ones you can find. The trunks are all kept together, and trying to find your own can be very difficult. Luckily, the maintenance men bring the trunks out for the end of the semester, but if you need to find something at quarter break you need to find your own. I am the only girl in Midlands whose trunks are black plastic.

I have an entire trunk already packed, and the other one is half full. I have a standard paper box full of things I bought in the bazaar. I was worried that I would have problems fitting all of my things into the luggage space I have. I think I will be able to just barely squeeze everything in because there are a lot of things that I have no reason to take home. Things like bug spray aren’t necessary here, but taking them back is a waste of space. Tuck (Woodstock slang for snacks) are a good idea to bring, but again, a waste of space to bring back.

My Dad has really missed me. My whole family does, but my Dad especially. He has been calculating the number of hours until I get home every day and posting it on Facebook. Sometimes he calculates the minutes and seconds too. There are just under 190 hours left until I get home. I have enjoyed my stay here, but I am very glad to be going home in eight days. So, I will study, take my exams, and be packed by Thursday night. I will fly at 2:00am on Sunday morning after a thirteen hour bus ride. I will be on the plane for about seventeen hours, and then I will be home.

After two dress rehearsals in front of preview audiences.
After three months of practicing and practicing.
After an activity week spent painting, cleaning, building, and more practicing.
After a hell week of three-hour rehearsals every day.
After frustration, exhaustion to the point of health center visits, and huge effort on the parts of more than forty people,

Today was opening night, and we raised the roof.

When curtain calls were over, with the audience on their feet screaming, the whole cast piled into the costume room right behind the stage left door for a chaotic but elated ten minutes of cheering, yelling, and cheese cake.

The cast and crew of ʻBrigadoonʼ kicked some serious butt.

Now if we can just make it through two more days and three more performances without dying of exhaustion.

Tired. I am so tired. In my head I am tired. I am tired in all of my limbs. I am in the quad auditorium. I am wearing my fish skirt, blue waffle weave shirt, black leggings, Ms. Dysonʼs lace up leather shoes, and a borrowed apron. My hair is in a half pony, and Mansi has put eyeliner on me. In two hours or less I will go into the balcony of the quad to sing Brigadoon the chorus to WOSA. Then I will come down and perform Maconachy Square.

I have a cold; I’ve had it for four days now. I can sing my part, but it is not easy. My part is never easy. I am an alto, and as anyone who has ever sung in a choir or chorus of any kind will tell you, altos sing the harmony, and harmony is difficult.

Mrs. Okie is wandering around in a Scottish hat kind of thing, it is highly amusing. Meghna is playing rock paper scissor stretch with Kunal. Johno is trying to learn some kind of shuffle. Nina is wearing Simoneʼs fake flower crown. I have no idea why Aayanʼs bottle and pitcher are on the step next to me. I don’t know where Aayan is.

Above all, I am exhausted to the point of insomnia. I think the cold is in part to be blamed on my extreme stress. I have no study halls. I have music every other day for which I must get up at six thirty at the latest. I have Brigadoon rehearsals most week nights.

Activity week starts Sunday, and I still need to pack. After activity week I will have Brigadoon every night from 6:00pm to 9:00 pm except on Saturday, when it is longer. On top of all that, I must keep my room clean and complete piles of difficult homework. I. AM. TIRED.

It is quarter break. I’m at Tanya’s house in Kanpur. So far I have met about six aunts and deedees (sisters), one brother, one uncle, her Ama (grandmother), and her Mom and Dad. Today (10-2-2011), I will be meeting a whole lot more relatives. Tanya’s family has a giant extended family brunch every Sunday and I’m just lucky enough to get to be there.

We went bangle and sari shopping. Ama gifted me bangles, which was very sweet of her. Before we went to the shop I asked Tanya if I should bring money. She said, “You’re with Ama, it would be rude,” so I didn’t. This is a fact of life in India that I both like and am mildly uncomfortable with. I know the attitude and no way am I going to be so rude as to refuse a gift or suggest in some fashion that someone can’t pay for something so I have to, but my American instinct is to pay for myself. Also, although Tanya’s family are my hosts, they are not people I am particularly close to yet, so I find it strange.

In the sari shop, we took off our shoes before going in. That seems to be an India tradition, and I must say I find it very nice not to have to wear shoes everywhere. Inside, there were women folding saris, saris on shelves, and racks everywhere. The colors of the saris were bright with all kinds of patterns. Around the edge of the shop on the back and right hand walls were slightly raised platforms covered in mattresses, and there were shelves of saris behind that. In front of the platforms were comfortable chairs and we sat in those.

A salesman came and started taking down saris to show us. The first ten were what Tanya’s Mom and sisters said weren’t “young” enough. I just didn’t like the patterns. It was really when we started pointing out saris for him to unfold and show us that I started seeing saris I wanted to try on. The opinion of the deedees and Tanya’s Mom was that a pink or yellow would be best.

The first one I asked to see was golden brown. When they unfolded it for me to see, it was golden brown at the bottom, yellow in the middle, and cream at the top, and it had patterns of large trees in black. When it was time to try them on I shocked Tanya, her Mom, and both the deedees because I can tie a sari on my own. Apparently, most Indians don’t know how to tie a sari. I learned it from a book.

The golden brown one was the first one I tried on when we got to that point. It was breath-taking. I then tried on a hot pink with gold designs. It was very pretty, but not right for me. The third one I tried on was dark pink shading to lighter pink at the top. It looked better than the hot pink but not as good as the brown. After I tried those on we set aside the brown and the shaded pink and looked at some more saris. I tried on a blue one, one with pink shading to white into black, and several others. When I had tried on two sets of saris and we were done looking we all agreed that even though the blue and the shaded pink were very nice, the brown was the best. If I was getting two I would have gotten the blue as well, but good saris are expensive. I was ready to buy it, but when it came time to pay, Tanya’s Mom shocked me by gifting me with it. The petticoats and choli (blouse) are on order and the sari is being finished. They will not be done before I have to leave, but Tanya’s Mom will ship it to Delhi while Tanya and I are there over Activity Week.

After the sari shop we went to a bazaar. Kanpur is famous for its leather and its embroidery. We went to a shop that specializes in embroidery. I bought an embroidered shirt in red. That one I paid for — it was only 650 Rupees (about $15), and I think I’d been given enough for a while. Tanya’s Mom asked if there was something else I really wanted while we were there. I didn’t know, so we walked the length of the bazaar. At the end of the street we bought some spiced puffed rice in paper cones from a street vendor. It was delicious.

When we got back from the bazaar, we hung out for a while and had some food. Then Tanya’s Tata (uncle) came (I had met him at breakfast) and he took Tanya and me to the Ram Lila. The Ram Lila is a sort of play. It takes place over more than ten days, and can go for six hours each day. It is performed on a festival, but I’m a bit murky as to which one. The Ram Lila tells the story of Lord Ram and his life. Ram-Ji is an incarnation of one of the gods.

Saturday I went on my first CARE trip. I have forgotten what CARE stands for, but it is Woodstock’s outreach program. I went to a school for blind children in Dehra Dun, which is the city at the bottom of the mountain.

There were about ten of us. The drive was around an hour and a half. When we got there we were greeted by an empty gravel parking lot and an empty-looking building. I was confused for a few minutes and then a woman came out of the building. She showed us where to go.

There were several classrooms and we split up between the little ones and the older kids. I was in a classroom with kids who I think were between the ages of three and eight. The first thing we did was go around saying hello and giving each of them a lump of play dough. I speak enough Hindi by now to tell them what my name is and to ask theirs.

They were shy at first, but after a few minutes they relaxed and played with us. When I signed up, a friend of mine said she was going on a different trip because she found the blind school sad. I did not find it sad. Some of the kids can see a little bit, but not most of them. The kids are amazing. If they drop something, they can find it quickly, even if it rolls. It might take them a minute, but they find it.

Three of the older ones took me to their playground. The path to the playground is gravel, and the rest of the yard is grass. All they have to do is stay on the gravel and they can get to their playground. They took me to their swing, the long kind with a back for several people. All three of them got onto the swing. They pushed with their feet to move the swing back. “Ek, do, teen!” (one, two, three in Hindi) they said together and let their feet go. We played for a while, and then it was time to go.

The group went to KFC and had lunch. There were beggars outside the restaurant. Two kids around five and maybe ten, and two women, one with a baby. I had a takeout box with a piece of chicken in it. I gave it to the little girl. When I was in the car, the woman with the baby came up to my window. Something I have noticed in India that is very different than in America is that people will just come crowding right up to a car. That is pretty rare at home. I think she was asking me for money; she kept saying, “Baby, baby,” and indicating her infant. I pointed at the little girl, “Baby,” the woman said again. I think she was trying to tell me that babies can’t eat chicken.

As we started to pull out, I just shook my head. I had nothing to give her. While we were driving away, the two children waved and smiled at me. They were eating the chicken. In some tiny way, I think I affected their lives, if just for a day. I know it isn’t smart to give money to the beggars, it gets stolen too easily. It’s better to give them food. I wish I’d had something to give the mother, though.