Spirit

Again, another picture from the lost/found library of pictures. I guess I feel I need to get these up because I just had my desktop computer die a spectacular death and it took thousands of pictures with it (although I had them all backed up other places). Once again the topic is my second trip to India in August 2003. I don't know why this picture speaks to me, other than the fact that it may be the first picture I took of the seemingly never-ending slums of Mumbai. I can still remember snapping the picture out of a car window and my then new friend John telling me that the people who lived there rented the space (I think we were talking about our constant problems with our campus and slum lords). I guess it had never occurred to me that someone might be paying to live there. Maybe I just assumed that people defiantly carved off the space and threw something together, which, obviously, someone did - but those people then began to rent out the space. It's a big issue in India because the political parties and local politicians compete to get the vote of "squatters" so they're always messing with the date in which you couldn't build more shanty towns. Plus, and obviously, the corruption is staggering. On the one hand the situation is depressing, but it also speaks to a spirit to survive that few of us in the U.S. could hope to match. And, thinking back to my previous post, if my biggest daily challenge is finding alternative bike routes then I (and most Americans) don't really ever have anything to complain about. One of the things that I noticed after spending time in India is that I stopped having much sympathy for student complaints about the challenges of getting their work in on time (or, for that matter, much sympathy for faculty complaints about the horror that is our job).

Riding or Wading

Finally the weather has broken, sort of, and allowed me to get my bike out. This has been just about the most dreary spring I can remember since I moved to Vermont. We've had precious few good days, but luckily this week has given us three days that, if you watched the Weather Channel and figured out your windows of opportunity, you could get out. Yesterday was my first long ride when I rode from my office up to Airport Park in Colchester. It was a lovely day for a ride, but in between all the rain we've been having (although, thankfully, it hasn't been anything like what our poor friends in the South have been suffering through) there is some flooding. The bike path runs right along the edge of Lake Champlain and I was expecting to hit some spots that were impassable, but, amazingly, beyond this little spot it wasn't too bad. I did see several folks ride their bikes through the water, but, discretion being the better part of valor, I just turned my bike around and meandered a different way through a neighborhood and reached the same goal (and I suppose there is some profound, or not so profound, lesson there).

Life at the Q: Yak and Yak

Here are some nice pictures of an event we had last night at the Q: Yak and Yak with the most excellent Rob Williams. One of the great things about living at the Q this year has been interacting with the students, especially when it comes to cooking for them or eating with them (and I really need to post on that as well - I have a ton of posts that I plan to get caught up on in the summer, when I'm not working on Arabic or researching/writing or riding my bike). Rob is one of my oldest friends in Vermont (and, I think anyway, that I actually hired him here at Champlain). Among his many unique hobbies/talents (such as singing in the great local band Phineas Gage [phineasgagevt.blogspot.com] and playing a leading role in the Vermont secession movement; and I really should embed links to the appropriate webpages - another summer chore) is that of yak rancher (www.vermontyak.com). When the Russian students were in town last year their favorite trips was out to visit Rob's yaks. His yak business is expanding rapidly and his has customers all over, including his biggest buyer who lives in Florida. As a treat for the little Qsters, Rob came out last night and grilled out yak sausage (which was absolutely delicious). In addition to cooking, Rob also took the time to explain issues of sustainability and small business to the kids. We had a big turnout and the yak was a huge hit with the students, and we even managed to finish up before the deluge. Besides being a really great guy, Rob is also the quintessential Vermonter in that he is both delightfully quirky but also solidly authentic.

Journey Through the Past: Got Ice?

Another picture from the lost and found treasure trove of pictures, this one from my trip to India in August 2003 (it was my second trip to India, and a year before I spent the summer teaching there). It must be all the reading about the Silk Road I've been doing for my China course - I feel like Aurel Stein uncovering a lost city out in the middle of the Taklamakan Desert. I guess I like this picture because it very nicely expresses how easy we have it in the US - how we completely take all conveniences for granted. The thought of travelling down to the corner to get a chunk of ice seems so 19th century to us that we could not process the thought that this is a daily reality (and, in fact, a luxury) for hundreds of millions of people around the world. Of course, the other side of this relates to the fact that Americans (with our squeamish digestive system) would be much better off avoiding the ice. Probably one of the most valuable Hindi phrases to learn is "no ice" for ordering drinks. That said, in the end it's hard to avoid getting sick, and at least then you begin to build up some tolerance, which allows you to be more adventuresome in your eating habits.

Fire

I always find the end of the school year to be a very bittersweet time. Even though I routinely give my students a fair share of good-natured abuse and work them pretty hard I do love them, and so the end of the academic year always gives me the blues. Adding to that this particular year is my own goodly share of personal sturm und drang, and that is magnified by the potential of spending the next year overseas. This last week I've found myself saying goodbye to my juniors, when I began to realize that I won't see them their senior year. It's also hard to think about leaving my close friends. For all of the pain of the last couple years, I've also allowed myself, really for the first time in years, to reach out to other people - and I've been blessed to have an amazing group of friends. Over the last year arguably the most pleasant surprise has been my growing friendship with Cyndi Brandenburg. We have a classic big brother/little sister relationship, with me picking on her endlessly and her getting very competitive around me (as can be seen in the chicken wing competition - oh, and I just realized that I've never gotten around to posting on the second incarnation of the chicken wings for charity competition). Aside from the constant tweaking of each other we've grown quite close, and I really like her husband Bill, the sweet and quiet twin girls Sarah and Maria, and the adorably corybantic Joey. Last night a group of us met at the Brandenburg/Vespa estate for one of Bill's classic bonfires (he is more than a bit of a pyromaniac, although he assured us this time that he had a permit this time). After building a fire, which I'm sure was visible from space, we feasted on hot dogs and smores, and the requisite amount of adult beverages. On nice evenings you can also walk through the field to the lovely country store, which completes the classic Vermont experience. So, I'm posting a few pictures, including ones of Kerry Noonan singing, her husband Steve and their daughter Dasha staring at the fire (I think this was shortly before Steve jumped the fire), and various shots of friends. The second one from the top if of Cyndi and Bill, the perfect hosts.

The Excellent Emily

For the last two years I have been remarkably fortunate to have the amazing Emily Clemons serve as my work-study student in the Global Modules program, and yesterday, sadly, was her last day. When we hired her on two years ago I didn't know that I had actually taught her before (and she still, amazingly, agreed to work for me). She had been my student in an online class a couple years before that, so I had never actually seen her before in person. And no matter what I threw at her for two years she handled it all easily and with good humor (and Lord knows I can be difficult to be around, even on my best days). Whether it was spending hours setting up Global Module shells or receiving emails from me all hours of the night (she said she learned to turn the volume off her phone early on) with student/faculty problems from around the world she never missed a beat. Many of the tremendous improvements we've made in the Global Module program, especially the website, over the last year stem from her ideas. A couple weeks ago I walked into the office and she told me to send someone an email and to cc her - and it became even more clear to me who the real boss of the operation was. What I will miss most if her ability to get her work done, always be cheerful in the face of my generally dyspeptic mood, and adapt on the fly to a constantly changing job. Last Tuesday was a classic example - we were trying to finish up some GM planning while I was also complaining about my inability to achieve a rolled r in Arabic. She called me over to her computer to show me a couple things - one related to the GM, and the other to a YouTube video she had just pulled up to help me with my r's. And the rest of the day alternated between discussions of GM problems and how to roll r's (most folks would have been driven crazy by the chaos, but she was quite at home). Here are a few pictures of the final day, including a great picture of Emily with our beloved Darlene (who organized the party, just as you organizes our daily lives in the Core division - that is, brilliantly). We'll miss you, Em.

The Boy

OK, just another picture that I thought was lost, but which I rediscovered buried in a neglected folder at school. This is one of my all-time favorite pictures of my son. He was 16 at the time, and the picture was taken at our old house in Barre. He's wearing his Braves cap. Since his formative years were spent in Atlanta his favorite team has always been the Braves. I think he's become as big a baseball fan as his father. I remember years ago we were watching the last game of the World Series, and after the last out he turned to me and say, "and now what do we do till spring?" - which is a thought I've had countless times at the same point in the season. The other day he showed me how to stream games from my computer (using MLB.TV, which he also introduced to me) onto my television. Some of my favorites moments today are when he comes over and we watch Reds or Braves games. He really is a wonderful kid. I can still remember with complete clarity the moment he was born (and he just had his 23rd birthday) and the doctor handed him to me, and all I could think of was that I already loved him so much that it was almost unfair (and I still do today).

Journey Through the Past: Working Out in Mumbai

I've written before about my constant attempts/adventures in trying to find places to work out overseas. I guess I don't want to go back to the immense man I was several years ago, but it also just keeps me feeling better physically (sadly, I'm past the age when it gives me a good body - now it just keeps the various and sundry pieces in smoother working order) and is a great stress reducer (unfortunately, still a major part of my life). I've discovered that overseas, especially on long trips, working out also helps to create a schedule to the day. When I spent the summer of 2004 teaching at our Mumbai campus one of the biggest reasons why it went so well (beyond the extraordinary efforts of my dear friends John and Raj to make me happy) was finding a place to work out. A few blocks down the street from Mr. Gary's apartment was Sykz Fitness Center, which prides itself on being "the" location for Mumbai's young and beautiful (and me). It really helped my mood to have a place to go to every morning to work out - and it had great showers (which was much better than the shower with very limited hot water in my apartment). Most of the patrons were "posers" (borrowing a term from my son's skate boarding days - this was the ultimate insult for a while), but the staff were really dedicated. It was also one of the times when it really hit home with me how being in India had changed me - in this case naturally falling into the habit of haggling over everything. I stopped in to ask how much a two month membership would cost, and after being quoted a figure I automatically responded, "I just don't see me paying that much, how about . . ." And, after a few minutes of back and forth, we agreed upon a figure.

Krishna Janmashtami

More rediscovered pictures. These are from August 2003, my second visit to India and the first time that I ventured out on my own. On my first trip to India I stuck pretty close to the Champlain team and followed the directions of my good friend Michelle. As has become legend at Champlain - or at least I've attempted to make it a legend - there are the rules that Michelle follows overseas, which I always refer to as wearing the WWMD (What Would Michelle Do) bracelet. Even though we always travelled happily together, it did sometimes cause tension because there is a tremendous difference between WWMD (almost nothing - or maybe one new thing a trip) and WWGD (which is essentially everything). On this particular visit I decided that I had spent enough time cooped up and ventured out on my own, much to the horror/chagrin of Michelle. It was during the celebration of Krishna Janmashtami, which is Krishna's birthday. I left the walled compound of our campus and disappeared into a crowd of thousands of Hindu celebrants (and in my mind was flashing back to Larry Darrell at the end of Somerset Maugham's Razor's Edge disappearing into the mass of India). There are many aspects to Krishna's birthday celebration, and some of them are pretty fun. The one I was a part of was Dahi Handi, which commemorates the times that the adventurous/impish young Krishna would climb up on the shelf to steal buttermilk. Teams, known as govinda, travel around Mumbai and form human pyramids to reach clay pots stretched, sometimes fifty or seventy feet, above the street. The person at top tries to smash the clay pot, which showers the pyramid with buttermilk. There are also prizes for the winning teams and it is quite competitive, and often it gets tied up with politics as different parties offer cash awards. There are over 4000 handis in Mumbai alone. So, I walk around until I found one of the clay pot and waited for the teams to arrive. One of the teams adopted me as their mascot and I sat in the street and ate with them (much to Michelle's utter horror when I recounted the story). It was one of those moments which, besides just being a complete sensory overload, symbolized my own passage. I'm posting several pictures, ranging from the inside of our campus to the chaos of the street scene to the formation of the human pyramids. The next to last picture is of my team sitting down in the street to eat before the competition. I was sort of hoping that they were going to ask me to be part of the pyramid, but they had obviously spent a lot of time training - and certainly none of them wanted me to be standing on their shoulders. It was a lot of fun, but to watch the pyramids collapse, as they sometimes did, into the street looked pretty painful.

"Only one!"

OK, more pictures from the rediscovered treasure trove of lost pictures. Again, here are a few from my first trip to Dubai. This must have begun my love affair with the camel. They were all taken on the same desert trip that led to the jeep being stuck on top of the sand dune. Here's an adorable picture of a baby camel, and a much more portly Scudder making friends. The last picture, which is hard to make out because it was taken at night, shows me getting my first camel ride. That's when I learned the hard way that you really have to bolster yourself when the camel sits down because they do so pretty violently and if you aren't careful you'll eviserate yourself. The guy in charge of the camels, who had been putting two women on a camel, and after getting a look at my unimaginable girth, shook his head and said, "Only one!" Later we were standing in line at a buffet and one of the Arabic men dolling out food looked at me and said, "You are a big man, I will give you more." His neighbor, started laughing, and jumped in with, "I too will give him more." I then came home and lost sixty pounds. When even the bedouins are laughing at you I think it's time to lose weight.

The Sacred and the Secular

And another early picture. I probably have dozens of pictures like this, but, once again, this dates back to my first trip to India so it is special to me. It probably speaks to me because it was one of those times when the extraordinary spirituality of India, which, because I'm a historian I already knew about, still jumped out at me in a very everyday way. Here is a little temple, essentially open to the elements, right on the sidewalk in the midst of the chaos of Mumbai. While America is not the most secular country in the world (technically many of the European countries are more secular than we are, although I tend to think that we still push ahead because we are so embarrassingly materialistic) we are still a world away from the spirituality that permeates all things Indian. This does not say that because of this fact India is necessarily better or that the U.S. is necessarily worse, but it does speak to the difference. I guess I wish that the U.S. was more spiritual and less religious.

Driving in Delhi

I'm not quite certain why my mind has been so absolutely flooded with memories of my early travel lately (other than, like Aurel Stein at Dunhuang, finding the treasure trove of pictures that I thought I had lost). While my first overseas adventure was to Dubai, the first time it was truly an ADVENTURE was my initial trip to India. I've written at length about my fascination with all things Indian, and although it predated this particular trip (March 2003) it was definitely reenforced then. After arriving in the middle of the night my first exposure of India was driving out to our then campus in Delhi - and receiving my first exposure to driving in India. I've always joked that Indian traffic laws are actually based on physics rather than the rule of law. I can still clearly remember counting the official traffic lanes (3) and comparing it to the actual traffic (7). Here are some of the pictures from that first drive in India, including the appropriately ignored/abandoned traffic police station (I've often wondered what sort of traffic crime you would have to commit to get in trouble in India, although I suspect my dear friend, Mr. Babu [see last summer's posting] will find out sooner than later]). I also like the fifth picture down, which shows one of the ubiquitous auto-rickshaws. I remember on another trip my chagrin at being unable to convince my good friend Michelle to climb into one. One time I saw one of them get tipped over by bumping into a truck, and the driver just popped out, rolled it back over and drove away. The second picture down was my first exposure to the cows living in the median and taking over the street if they are in the mood. The first picture is a nice juxtaposition of the old and new - and the haves and have-nots - in India.

Gold Souque

The first country I ever visited was, interestingly enough, the United Arab Emirates. In the old days Champlain had a campus in Dubai and I was initially asked to travel there as part of a team site visit, mainly because no one else wanted to go. So, after getting my first passport, I made the trip and actually had a great time. Dubai itself doesn't hold a lot of charm for me, mainly, I think, because I'm a historian and there's not a lot of history left there. However, one of the places we visited, the Gold Souque, did provide some aspect of the traditional, along with jarring reminders of the creep of globalization. Now, I shouldn't have been surprised by this because at the time the first sign you saw when you landed at the gleeming Dubai Airport proclaimed, "Welcome to Dubai, Crossroads of the New Global Economy." Dubai is a real delicate balancing act between the shiny modern and the deeply conservative traditional world. On my first visit we drove past a huge billboard sign for a car dealership that featured a picture of a young Emirati man driving a convertable, kafiya blowing in the breeze, with the catch phrase, in English, "Live the Dream" - which was clearly not to be a good Muslim, but rather to have a sweet ride. At the same time, there are a lot of topics, most notably feminism, which are clearly off-limits in our Global Module discussions. Anyway, here are a few pictures from my first trip to the Gold Souque. I love the juxtaposition between the traditional garb and the European casual wear.

Just a Picture

OK, just a few moments before I head off for a Faculty Senate meeting (and, doubtless, pray for death's sweet release). I was cleaning out my office and came across a CD that my good friend Marcie Patton from Fairfield University sent me. She was one of the great crew that were part of the Silk Road CIEE trip I took in summer 2009. It was part of a seven week, seven country marathon that was right in the middle of the lowest point in my life. However, although it was gruelling, it was good for me and by the end I was in a much better place emotionally - as evidenced by this silly picture of me that Marcie snapped while we were off in the mountains of western China (I'm thinking somewhere in greater Tibet, but I'd have to go back and check my notes). For some reason it really expresses a moment in time for me.

The Desert

OK, more on this later, but my mind has been swerving towards the United Arab Emirates lately. Here's a picture that I thought was long gone, but which I discovered by accident recently (it was buried in an obscure file on my drive at school - which also helps to explain why I am always getting those threatening emails about how much space on the system I use). On our first trip to the UAE we went on a wild ride through the desert in jeeps. Of course, my jeep got stuck at the top of a sand dune and we had to clamber out and wait for someone to dig us out. It was during this trip that I first fell in love with the desert. I can remember standing and watching the sun go down - and in the desert the sun sets so preternaturally fast that it is awe-inspiring. Anyway, I guess I've been stuck myself lately, and maybe all I need is to dig myself out and I can still get over the dune.