Subway Adventures

by Maggie Muth

When I ride the subway in Hong Kong, it’s an adventure every time. My mom and I walk to the subway station, and as we walk we see a man  roasting yams and it smells like a campfire. We get to the station and use our octopus cards (like debit card) to get in to the station. Beep! goes the machine. Now we are in the subway station. Mom and I go up the stairs to the trains. It’s not very crowded at this time of day because most people are at work or at school. Right now we are at the University station on the light blue subway line. We have two options: one, to go towards Lo Wo and Lok Ma Chau; or two, to go towards Hong Hom. We are going to Sha Tin, two stops down the line. Hong Hom is down the line at the end so we get on the train to Hong Hom. The slidey red train doors open with a squeak, and we get on the train. The person behind us almost falls into the big gap in between the train and the platform. A cold blast of air hits us from the air conditioning vent as we walk in. I grab on to the bumpy red pole and smell French fries. The train doors close with a slam and we’re off. Zoom! Everyone is talking in different languages when we lurch to a stop at Fo Tan. People get on and people get off. The doors close and we’re off! Again. The train stops at Sha Tin, and mom and I get off to pick up the laundry. Talk about subway adventures!     

Using the machine to put money on my "Octupus" card - which lets me ride the subway

Entering the subway after scanning my "octopus" card

The train with the slidey red doors

Happy Thanksgiving, Hong Kong style!

In the Muth family, a traditional Thanksgiving goes something like this: A.) we make plans to spend the day with family (usually the Lewis-Mead clan from St. Paul, but sometimes the other half of the Lewis clan in Baltimore, or the Muth clan in Wisconsin); B.) we watch some football; C. ) we eat a fairly traditional meal of turkey, cranberry sauce, and mashed potatoes and stuffing, with very important mashed yams, green bean casserole, and corn pudding included; D.) we go for an after dinner walk; and E.) we return from the walk to eat pie.

Celebrating Thanksgiving in Hong Kong made many of our traditions impossible - so we had a wonderful time creating new ones.  Here is how our day went:

A.) We couldn't be with family, but we have been able to connect via skype, phone, and email.  We also gathered today with our traveling family of 17 St. Olaf College students and our two fabulous hosts in Hong Kong, Vivian Chiu and Morton Holbrook.

B.) We thought we'd try to play football instead of watching it, but couldn't even find an American football in any of the sports stores around.  So we settled for watching some Discovery Channel on the hotel TV.  Turns out that we all like watching shows about explosives.

C.) We were lucky enough to be fed a delicious gourmet Thanksgiving lunch that included turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce.  We even had soup and salad to begin, and a lovely fruit plate and nut tart for dessert.

D.) Our after dinner walk was probably the most exciting part of the day.  We took the metro over a couple of stops and explored one of the classic local wet markets.  We found vegetables for stir fry, lots of interesting meat cuts, some roasted chestnuts, a grilled yam, a winter jacket for Greg, replacement ipod cords, and a bag of candy.  We even picked up some desserts that could serve as the pie substitute.

E.)  Since our feast was really lunch, and we didn't cook for ourselves (so no leftovers), we needed to cook some supper.  So we had another feast involving shrimp and noodles, the grilled yam, a sliced cucumber, and the roasted chestnuts.  Our dessert was not quite up to our usual pie standards, but the spongy cake and coconut cookies were certainly interesting.

We are incredibly grateful for a wonderful day, for this amazing opportunity we have to be traveling the world, for safety and good health, and for the love and support we feel from all of you.  Happy Thanksgiving!!
The Muths

A Little Slice of Paradise

You know that feeling when you go on vacation and you can’t quite relax? The nagging sensation that you should be checking your work emails, or taking care of that last project, or even starting something new so you won’t be behind when you return?  Our vacation time in Thailand started out that way.  We arrived in Bangkok at about 6 am after traveling all night from India (via Sri Lanka).  We managed to negotiate about 2 hours of sleep before loading all 22 of us back on another bus to go on another city tour.  It was lovely and interesting and entertaining, but we were all so tired (physically, emotionally, spiritually) that we just weren’t getting that much out of it.  By the end of the evening we were all so ready to go our separate ways that we hardly even said good-bye to each other.

The transition for our little family of five wasn’t much smoother the next morning. We were at each other all day as we checked out of the hotel and then traveled by taxi, airplane, van, long tail boat and pick up truck to finally reach our little island villa. Word came in that one student had lost an ATM card. Another was waiting to meet a friend whose flight had been delayed. We were worried but trying to let go at the same time. By the time we arrived and settled in we were frazzled and not exactly relaxed.

But the next morning, we woke to discover that we really had arrived in paradise. About 30 meters from our front door was the pristine beach.  It stretched out in both directions with no visible development and almost no people.  The small line of chairs under umbrellas beckoned us to come and relax. So we agreed to try.

Over the next six days we managed to give in to the desire to rest and relax.  We alternated between doing nothing and going on adventures.  The week included an elephant trek, a river canoe trip, pedicures, a snorkeling trip, thai massages, a visit to a national park, many hours reading under beach umbrellas, many hours playing in the ocean, daily walks on the beach at sunset, rescuing flow fish from the high tide, countless plates of pad thai and glasses of lemon juice (really a form of lime-ade that was DELICIOUS), numerous cheeseburgers for the kids, and access to internet communication with the world.  It was delightful and exactly what we needed.

Our trek back into Bangkok was far less exhausting.  And when we arrived we had plenty of energy to go out exploring the farmer’s markets and night markets. Our time in the “Land of Smiles” was far too short, but it was long enough to get our smiles back!

Video Reflections

Here is a slideshow of a few of the many images from India.  Make sure your audio is on, it has a righteous Bollywood soundtrack.

Complexity

India is a complex place.  It is a place so large that we needed to learn new numbers like crore (10 million) and lakh (100,000).  It is a place where each state has its own language and each town has its own god.  It is a place where food can be vegetarian, non-vegetarian, pure vegetarian, halal and even hygienic.  It is a place where restaurants are called hotels and hotels are called inns.

India is a complex place.  If you are feeling the call of nature don’t be bashful.  The side of the road, street or alley is a perfectly acceptable place to relieve yourself.  No one will bat an eyelash.  But please don’t cross you legs in church or show the soles of your feet to an elder for that action could be considered impolite.

India is a complex place.  You will see women in the most fabulous saris with colors beyond the rainbow, bangles on their arms and jasmine in their hair.  You will see these women in temples, in shops, in offices and leading cows down dirt paths.

India is a complex place.  You will be welcomed into the temple and led past the throngs into the holiest of holy.  You will be told of the importance of uniting all people and joining in spirit to do good for humanity.  Then you will read about someone getting murdered in the name of god because they had beef in their freezer.

India is a complex place.  You will meet aerospace engineers who are designing the most modern aircraft navigation systems in the world.  You will marvel in the sophistication and brilliance of the science behind the technology.  You will be impressed with the raw ingenuity and dedication to advancement.  And then the power will go out.  Again.  And again.  And again.

India is a complex place.  You will see the joy in the young men playing cricket on makeshift fields with happy cows wandering through the outfield.  You can imagine their dreams of hitting a towering “sixer” to defeat Bangladesh in World Cup play.  You will see this scenario play out in the biggest cities and the smallest villages.  And you will wonder why field hockey is the national sport.

India is a complex place.  You will see sweeping.  Lots and lots of sweeping.  There are armies of men and women with bundles of sticks sweeping roads and porches.  Sidewalks and shop entries.  Even the lawns and bare dirt patches are swept of every leaf, twig, dropping and piece of litter.  All of these sweepings (and most trash for that matter) are carefully gathered and dumped, in a big pile, next to the stream, where it will sit and sit and sit representing a nasty contradiction to all of the sweeping.

India is a complex place.  This is a place where dishes, cars, children and cows are all lovingly washed, with putrid grey water that runs alongside the garbage pile.  This is home for 1.3 billion people, thirty thousand wild elephants and 2200 tigers.  This is a place where the extravagantly prepared dishes of rice and curry, lentils and paneer are carefully served piping hot intended to be eaten without silverware.

But isn’t everyplace complex?  Isn’t there always a hidden agenda or dark underbelly just below the surface?  In the US our garbage is neatly packaged and carefully trucked in clean- fuel vehicles to far off landfills where no one will witness the vastness of our waste.  We enjoy the safety and polite order of US roads with clear signs and signals, easy to understand and navigate for those who have enough wealth, language skills and documentation to access this privilege.  Perhaps the reason Indian complexity is so outwardly challenging is that everything is exposed and literally coming at all of your senses all of the time.  But the same could also be true in the US but the complexity is masked, hidden behind fresh paint and under well-maintained streets.  It is not until the unsuspecting “tourist” steps off the curb and into the path of the oncoming garbage truck do we see the true complexity of our society bubble to the surface.     

The dreaded "India slump"

It’s 4:30 am, and I slip on the clothes I laid out last night.  I wander down the hall to knock on the children’s doors, waking them in time to load the bus.  Back in our room, I eye the packet of medicine on my shelf.  Should I take it now, or wait until I have some food in my stomach?  I better take it now.  The muscle spasm in my back that is already a week old did not subside over night.  I will need some muscle relaxant in my system if I’m going to survive the punishing six-hour bus ride we have ahead of us.  I grab my bottle of water, liberate two pills from their foil packet, and swallow.

Reflecting on the past 10 days feels like a lot of work – almost as much work as it was getting through them. We have hit the dreaded “India slump”, and to be honest I had kind of hoped that we might be spared, that somehow we would be immune to what other groups were not.  No such luck.

Traveling is hard.  I know this from experience, yet I still believe that the benefits far outweigh the costs.  When I travelled as a teen and 20-something, I encountered plenty of incredibly stressful situations that left me with wounds I still sometimes lick.  Traveling as a family has introduced another whole layer of stressors, but I still value the experience enough to risk it.  We grow so much from those times we are pushed out of our comfort zones.  So it was with eyes wide open that we signed up to lead the Global Semester – knowing full well that adding 17 college students to our traveling family would add more stress, but more growth, too.

It’s 5:00 am, and we’re on the bus.  Maggie has on her motion sickness bracelets and she’s taken a Dramamine.  She should sleep for the first stretch and then be OK.  James and Grace have found comfortable seats.  Greg and I are settled in.  The students have all made it on the bus with passports in hand.  Our ECC hosts climb aboard, and we start down the first two kilometers of pitted dirt road.  Each bump is like a small stab in my lower back.  I grimace at Greg.  “Did you take the muscle relaxant?” he asks.  “Yep,” I reply, “just waiting for it to kick in.”

When we first arrived in India, things felt light, and colorful, and almost easy.  It was the contrast with our time in Egypt, the harshness of the Sahara Desert, that made India seem so resplendent and welcoming.  We breezed through our first week of traveling and arrived at the ECC feeling almost refreshed.  And then we all got our own rooms, and we were welcomed so earnestly, that it was hard to imagine that we would hit an “India slump”. 

But as the weeks progressed and we spent more and more time here, the signs became hard to ignore.  Day after day of packed schedules left everyone feeling depleted.  The children of ECC families were on school break and stood outside our building waiting for anyone to play with them at tea time or after lunch, but after the first week almost no one had the energy to play with the kids.  We all seemed to be in a bit of a fog: frustration over less than ideal wifi service was obvious, a head cold was rapidly spreading throughout the group, anger and guilt over compulsory yoga at 6:30 am led to snarky comments and resentment, and the bus rides (the god forsaken, never-ending bus rides) were enough to make even the young, healthy bodies rebel. 

It’s 6:00 am and I think the muscle relaxant might be kicking in a little.  Or maybe the road has just smoothed out.  Either way, I’m feeling almost content to just sit still and look out the window at the rising sun.  Greg is asleep, as is most everyone else.  He tips over onto my seat a little and I grin, glad that he’s able to relax.

With tensions high throughout the whole group, we sat down for a group meeting that was doomed from the start.  Everyone was harboring far too much stress to be able to process old frustrations in a constructive way, yet we were planning to debrief some difficult stuff that happened as we were leaving Egypt.  Simple clarifying questions suddenly felt like judgment, and Greg lost his temper in response to what he likely perceived as the students attacking me for holding them accountable for their behavior.  None of us behaved well, and I should have known better than to try.  It was like trying to mediate an argument between Grace and Maggie when either one of them  (or both) is tired and hungry. 

Unfortunately, things haven’t gotten better.  We made things worse by trying to process through some stuff without really acknowledging where we are all at right now.  Maybe if we’d taken the time to acknowledge more fully how tired we all are, how hard this trip is, how much we all need each other for support we could have avoided some of the hurt feelings.  But sometimes when you are already in motion, it is hard to change course.

It’s 7:00 am and something is definitely not right.  My back is fine, or at least I can’t feel it, so that’s fine, right?  Wow, my hands really itch.  Mmmm, that muscle relaxant must really be kicking in now. I feel kind of floaty.  No, definitely not floaty.  Just itchy. And wrong. Very wrong.  My field of vision is kind of closing in.  I elbow Greg.  He sits up a little, but stays mostly asleep. I mutter, “I don’t feel right.”  I think he sits up more, but I can’t really tell because I’m not sure where I am anymore.  I’m back to feeling floaty, except for my tongue.  My tongue really hurts.  My whole mouth hurts. Why does my mouth hurt so much?

A few days and several excruciating outings after the fated group meeting, Greg graded and returned a reflective writing assignment he’d given to the students.  Regardless of the intentions and whether or not the learning outcomes were achieved, many of the students found the process of being graded on their reflections too personal.  It fueled the fire.  They pushed back in the way that all students do where grades are concerned.  I watched from the edge sensing things were spiraling out of control.

I have no idea what time it is, or where I am for that matter.  I open my eyes and see Greg gently holding my face, panic etched in his eyes.  “There you are,” he says.  

“What happened?” I ask.  

“I’m pretty sure you just had a seizure,” he replies, shaking his head.  We are still on the bus.  The bus is moving, and no one around us seems to have noticed.  Greg gets me some juice to sip, and we tip my seat back to stave off another episode.  I’m definitely not OK, but at least I’m conscious.

On the second morning of our latest outing (this one lasting three nights and consisting of over 20 hours on the bus), we received an email from the IOS office at St. Olaf letting us know that several students and one parent had contacted them over growing concerns about the group dynamic.  It was pretty easy to tell that this was St. Olaf’s way of letting us know that the students were upset with us, not just each other.  I knew it was coming. I could see and feel the signs, and yet once things were in motion it didn’t seem like anything we did could have stopped the reaction.  And knowing it was coming did not in any way reduce how hurt I felt that the students didn’t think they could talk directly to me.  If they can’t talk to me about this kind of stuff, then why exactly did I come on this trip?

I spent the day in silent reflection.  I was hurt, but also searching for understanding to try to make things right.  We set off on the bus to visit a tea plantation – a visit that was interesting but so mired in transportation problems (no paperwork at the border between states, some form of bribe changing hands, an hour of sitting on the side of the road, etc., etc.) that it hardly seemed worth it to me.  I barely had the energy to interact with the students, and the few times students interacted with me it was either to complain about something or ask for some direction.  I sat on the bus with my eyes closed, tears rolling down my face, wondering how I could be with so many people and still feel so alone.  Later that evening at a bonfire thrown for us by the resort owners, I could hardly face the students.  I arrived late and stopped in the shadows just outside the fire ring watching all three of our children interact with the students.  It was awfully beautiful to see Maggie and Grace each dancing with Oles while James was in animated conversation with another.  I wanted to be mad. I wanted to stay hurt and engage in a battle of some sort – I’m only human after all.  But as I watched my children love and be loved, I just wanted to heal.

It’s 8:00 am.  The bus pulls over at a wayside for a breakfast and potty stop.  I’m covered in hives, woozy and tending a mysteriously loose tooth. My tongue feels like I must have bitten it. Greg helps me get off the bus and into the bathroom.  I rest on a bench, then sit up and fidget because I’d like to crawl out of my skin.  I manage to eat enough breakfast so I can take a Benadryl.  A student walks by and notices me slumped over at my bench.  She asks if I’m OK.  I respond, “I don’t know, but I will be.”

Whether it is an allergic reaction to a muscle relaxant, or the dreaded “India slump” – there are some things that once set in motion, are pretty hard to reverse.  Instead, we just kind of have to get through them.  I’d like to think that I have learned a lot through this experience.  Clearly I won’t be taking that muscle relaxant again.  But I’ve also relearned that traveling is hard.  And if we are going to be successful on this adventure, we’ll have to acknowledge that to each other, support each other, and push each other just enough to grow without falling off the perilous edge. Are we ok?  I don’t know, but we will be.

[Author's Note: Dear Mom, I really am OK. I promise.  The Benadryl kicked in and got rid of my hives. As soon as the other medicine was out of my system I felt totally back to normal.  And the tooth I knocked loose is almost back to normal, too. :)]

Lord Shiva the Mountain

by James Muth

Shiva is the destroyer god in the Hindu religion. He is a bit like a reboot for your computer after a virus takes over. He will save a few good things from it, but otherwise, everything is gone. His wife is Pavarti who always appears to the right but technically, Shiva’s left. Along with being Shiva’s wife, Pavarti is also his left hand (wo)man. Shiva is viewed as big, strong, and mighty and overlooking everything, so it only makes sense that he would be incarnated as a mountain over looking the city of Thiruvannamalai. Our group was fortunate enough to get to climb on top of this mountain that is considered Lord Shiva and watch the sunrise.

            After waking up at 5:15 am and waiting for 45 minutes for our guide to arrive, the group set off to go climb Lord Shiva. We were told the day before that we would have to make the climb barefoot due to respect of the incarnation of the god we were climbing on. After walking on a back path for a bit, we reached the entrance for the mountain. I thought that there would be a noticeable but not paved path and I was mostly correct. The path was made of cobblestones that jutted out at weird angles. Luckily we did not have to take our shoes off, the reason we didn’t is unknown, but I am very glad we kept our shoes on. Then we started running up the mountain. When I look back at this moment, I picture myself as a mountain goat on a steep mountain, jumping from one rock to another.  After a solid half an hour of running up Lord Shiva, we reached a clearing with a small bluff. We stopped there, and sat down to watch the sunrise.

The temple at the center of the city seemed like everything was built around it. Thiruvannamalai is a relatively small city in relation to some of the cities in India, but the city and the roads and houses, seemed to expand infinitely. That moment reminded me of the minaret on one of the mosques we climbed up in Cairo. I really wish we had had an opportunity to climb up to a high point in Delhi to see what the city was like. There seemed to be a connection with nature at that moment. Everyone was quiet and it felt like we were sitting on a giant. We all felt linked to the importance of this mountain and the connection and role it plays in such a practiced religion. But sadly, all good things must come to an end.  We left the bluff with open minds, happy hearts and lots of beautiful pictures. After walking a ways, we stopped at a locked gate. We were going to go inside some caves but they were all locked up. We waited there for a bit to watch the monkeys playing in the trees.

Brenda almost got her bag stolen by a monkey. Luckily, Joshua had a banana to give to them so they would leave her alone. We started our descent at that point; everyone was ready for it.

            After walking down a path for a while, we reached a small house. Inside was the guy who takes care of Lord Shiva. (Well technically he takes care of the mountain and the mountain is an incarnation of Lord Shiva. So logically, he takes care of Lord Shiva.) We got into his small house and got blessed by him. Let me say that again, the guy who takes care of the main god in the Hindu religion… blessed us.  I am blown away by this experience. I am at a loss of words; I’m … well, at a loss of words. But sadly, again, all good things must come to an end. I never thought that a priest of that importance would have time for tourists. Anyway, we went even further and got to another little house. Inside, there was a small entryway that had a small but still cozy “living room”. There were a few small decorations in that room, but the real impressive room was the cave. Behind a small arch, there was a very tiny cave, painted white but it had several large statues of Hindu gods. The group separated into smaller groups to go into the cave. When it was my group’s turn, we all went into the cave to get ash and kunkumin of our foreheads. Kunkumin is red and usually gets put in between the eyebrows and the ash is white and gets put on the forehead in three horizontal lines. That is the symbol that you will sometimes see representing Shiva. Along with the ash and kunkumin, the priest gave me (and just me) a necklace with a walnut on it. I’m not sure what it means but it was given to the only kid so it could mean good luck in the future. After that it was time to leave, so everyone hustled to get back to the bus and back to the hotel.

            I believe that many parts of this trip would be very different without the religious point of view. We are here in India to study religion, so it only makes sense if we have experiences that are formatted like this one. Learning about a specific religion makes me want to take a sample of it or just try it out for a while. I feel that religious figures such as Buddha, Shiva and God are all as powerful and mighty as each other. I want to have a sample of each religion and just try it out, whether it is for five minutes or five years. I still think sticking to one religion for childhood is probably smart. When I am almost an adult and working on finding myself, I would like to revisit these religions to see if I have a different perspective towards them. Exposure to these religions has made my path of faith a little rockier but in the end I will come to a resolution, whether it is with a new religion or one that I am familiar with.