Scenes from a school near Bettiah

One child called out the numbers 1-100 while the others echoed him, then he started again while I slipped away... I couldn't even fit all the children in this shot.

Secondary students get tables! But there are just as many of them...

Super steep slide... I kept watching for any children to play on it, just to see what would happen.

The See-Saw of Death

Hotel Farmer Luxury

Jeff and I are spending a few days in Bettiah, West Champaran, observing a field project, and we have the delightful privilege of staying at “Hotel Kishan Vilas,” which roughly translates to “Hotel Farmer Luxury.”

When we pulled up, the slogan on the door read “Redefining Hospitality.” This felt a little ominous to us, until we found out that this is a new branch of their original hotel, Hotel Kishan (Hotel Farmer) across the street. I think we made the better choice.

They are clearly attempting to redefine hospitality in small and large ways. It’s clean, the beds are comfortable, there’s AC, a fan, a coffee table with chairs and a private bathroom, and even a (crackly) television. However, in their attempt to show their eagerness for hospitality, they may have omitted a few things. For example, they serve food but there’s no restaurant, so we’ve been eating in our room, which is totally fine (the food’s quite good).

What’s a little more awkward is their habit of knocking to deliver a meal while they are also walking inside. We either lock the door (and hear a thump as they walk straight into it), or more often, Jeff’s taken to remarking, “Yes, you may come in” after they’ve entered the room. This is strongly reminiscent of our attempts to train our dog Lalu by directing him to do something after he’d already decided (and started) to do it.

It’s very normal for restaurants here to have an enormous menu but actually offer only a small number of items. Hotel Kishan Vilas takes this to another level. They have a notice on the back of the menu that says: “Ice Creams and Sweets Available on Demand,” but when Jeff politely asked for ice cream last night, we were informed that they didn’t have any. “Of course!” we realized later – he wasn’t demanding enough.

Go figure we didn't take it literally enough.

All of this is a gentle critique, because it’s a lot better than we expected and we’re totally comfortable here. We’d heard horror stories about Bettiah from J-PAL RAs when we lived here, but for a short visit, we’re doing great.

The view from our window, on a gorgeous day. 

Mango Milkshakes!

If you find yourself in Patna during mango season, you MUST visit this mango milkshake guy in Income Tax Golumbar. Anyone from IDinsight can show you where to go. It is 100% worth the 45 minutes round-trip from A.N. College (and only 43 minutes if you're crazy and only buy 1 milkshake).

With the renowned owner

Two very happy customers: Jeff and Harlan

The Patna Mall: The Escalator, Food Court and Big Bazaar

Finally, the moment arrived: I visited the mall in Patna. 

Last summer, Jeff told me stories about the newly constructed mall, which has the first escalator in Bihar and was a source of constant fascination. I’ve gone back a few times in the last two weeks, and every visit is an experience.

First, the escalator: in the year since the mall’s inauguration, some people have learned how to use the escalator. Others, not so much. It’s pretty remarkable to watch grown men and women huddle around the first step, determining the safest entry point. When we walked up, I overcame my usual hesitation to take pictures of people because this very sweet older brother was trying to cajole his sister onto the escalator – she kept putting one foot on, getting pulled up while her legs spread under her, and then jumping back to safety. Poor thing!

The mall itself is quite impressive. It has floor after floor of major Indian and international brands (Nike, Adidas, Dominoes, etc.). I actually bought workout pants at the Nike store, mostly to see if I could. That deserves a whole other post in itself.

Can you imagine never having seen an escalator before, and encountering this?

The mall is pristinely clean, and the shop windows glisten with expensive merchandise. There’s a Café Coffee Day, and a Dominoes and Pizza Hut facing one another (we prefer Dominoes pizza, but appreciate that Pizza Hut has a version of baked pasta). There’s an arcade out of the 90s, with simulated car racing, air hockey and a very precarious ride for children. There’s also the 5D theater that Jeff visited last year, and the Scary House that I’m desperately trying to convince him to come into with me (no success yet).

There’s also a Food Court, with prominent Patna eateries like Roll Mafia (paratha rolls stuffed with yummy things). And of course, there are the not-as-prominent eateries, with great signs:

"Icy N Spicy: Ice Creams, Shakes and Chinese"

Subtitle: "Just Come for Purity & Taste with Surity!"

Perhaps most importantly, there’s a Big Bazaar, a supermarket chain out of our dreams when we lived here, with a shelf full of peanut butter and Nutella and a whole wall of different cereals. All it needs is bagels and salad and we would be all set here (don’t worry mom; I’m definitely coming back soon).

And what self-respecting grocery store wouldn’t have a confounding security process? First, the guards at the entrance used plastic zip ties to shut every opening in my backpack (including the pouch with my wallet), presumably so I wouldn’t steal anything (or buy anything):

And after we’d paid for our items, they used more plastic ties to seal our grocery bag shut. After which we were directed to the security guard at the exit, who checked our receipt against our white, opaque bag and marked everything OK. It must be quite a challenge to recruit security guards with x-ray vision.

If you’re in Patna, I highly recommend a visit to the mall!

We're still in Bihar, after all.

A School in Motihari

Jeff and I spent three days in a small town in a rural district this week (Motihari in East Champaran), and the highlight was a visit to a local school. I sometimes complained last year about having to buy my own supplies, but this visit put into complete perspective any concerns I might have about any school in the U.S.

These are the fields around the school:

This is the outside of the school: 

I couldn’t bring myself to take any pictures of the classrooms or the children, so I’ll try to describe it in words. We chose this school because we’d been told it was one of the better schools in the district. The school is a series of four connected rooms with a long porch as a hallway. There was a small office for the principal and food storage and three classrooms (two K-2 classes and one 3-5 class). Each classroom held at least 40 children. There was no furniture in the classrooms. Each child brought an empty canvas or plastic food sack that they sat on like a mat, plus a small plastic bag with some supplies. Some children had notebooks, a few had chalk slates, and many had nothing at all. One child wore shoes, and made a big deal of taking them off and putting them on every time he got up. There were a few chalkboards in the classroom, and Hindi and English alphabets and a hundreds chart were painted onto the wall.

What struck me the most was how quiet the children were. If you’d piled 40 of the students in my old school into a room with a concrete floor and no furniture, and asked them to sit quietly, it would have quickly erupted in pandemonium. The surveyor from Jeff’s organization spoke with the teacher, who told the children to wait until it was their turn to be asked questions, and they did. In some cases, for 2 hours. I kept trying to reassure the teacher that she could continue teaching and we would just pull out the children we needed, but having a team of surveyors, let alone two white Americans, visit their school was such a distraction that it ground the regular day to a halt.

The survey is being administered to first graders, so I was really excited to get to know rural Bihari first graders and see how they’re similar and different from American first graders, since I’ve taught first grade for the last two years. I didn’t anticipate just how little Hindi I remembered, and how insanely distracting I would be in the school. Everything I did to try to engage the children just ended up in blank stares or hysterical giggles. I started simply, crouching down near a child and asking in Hindi, “What’s this?” while pointing to the child’s bag of materials. It was as if a unicorn were asking questions about advanced trigonometry. The child froze, as if I might disappear if he moved or took a breath, while the others broke into whispers and giggles all around him.

After trying to speak with a few different children, asking basic questions, I gave up on language-based communication. “OK,” I thought, “I have taught newcomers to the U.S. in the past, and children with very little English. I am a reasonably good teacher. I can show them some basic games that don’t require language and break the ice a little.” So I proceeded to show them a simple “Match the Rhythm” game, where I clap a beat and they repeat it. They were not having it – I could imagine them thinking, “Hey, the unicorn can dance!”

Eventually the survey ended and the principal generously offered us the school’s midday meal in his office (lentils with soyabean, rice and raw onion), which was really good. It was especially enjoyable because children kept walking past the office and conspicuously slowing down so they could get a peek at the foreigners, then scurrying away.

Despite how different the school was, and how differently the children behaved, they had the same natural curiosity that I love about teaching young children. I just wish they had anything in their rooms to support and nurture that love of learning.

Vidalia: A Romantic Anniversary Outing

Vidalia describes itself as a “Fine Dine Restaurant” and our anniversary dinner there fulfilled all of my hopes and dreams – a fantastic combination of delicious food, tasteful décor, and a panoramic view of the chaos of Boring Road*.

Jeff and I were jetlagged after 3 days of travel, so we ate light, but of course I had to partake of my all-time favorite “Chinese” dish: crispy chili potatoes.  Everyone here is convinced that this is a classic Chinese dish, so most restaurants that have a Chinese part of their menu will include their interpretation of crispy chili potatoes. Generally, it’s some kind of deep-fried French fry marinated in honey, chilies and mystery spices. Every restaurant does it differently, and it is always delicious.

But Vidalia does not just provide a meal; it provides entertainment for all ages. Instead of drab place mats, we were provided a “Doodles” page (a la family restaurants in the U.S.).

What is a "Kitty Party"? Excellent question, but one I don't have the courage to ask anyone here yet.

As if that’s not stimulation enough, the wall facing the street is entirely made of windows, so we had an amazing view of Boring Road and the antics and acrobatics that are regularly performed on it. It was especially cool for our first night there, since we lived off of Boring Road three years ago, so it let us begin to soak in the similarities and differences from our last time here together.

My amazing husband, able to smile while I thoroughly embarrass him :).

As is usually the case, we ate several hours before anyone else (at 7:30pm), so we were the only customers. But if you’re visiting Patna near Boring Road, definitely grab a meal at Vidalia.

*Three years ago, we lived off of Boring Road, very close to this restaurant. We've decided that Boring Road is the most ironically named street in existence, since in fact it's a major thoroughfare in Patna and there is always a lot going on.

Signage Highlights

Patna has an astonishing array of hysterical signage. Two of my favorites so far:

What teacher doesn't seek to promote "a disciplined ambience of learning"?

I know that the smell of smoke always causes me to unwrap a smile. For context, this was outside an eatery (closed at noon because that's far too early for lunch).

My Get-Rich-Quick Scheme: Laundromats!

Jeff and I will be spending most of the next two weeks in rural towns and villages, so yesterday was laundry day. When we lived here, my amazing mother bought us a washing machine (a true luxury item in Patna), so I never fully appreciated how long it takes to wash clothes by hand.

The directions on the Tide package don’t fully represent the art of the hand-agitated-two-bucket-wash system that Jeff developed last summer. Suffice it to say, I was soaking wet, my forearms were sore for hours afterward, and I felt like I’d taken a ride in an industrial-strength washing machine. But my clothes were clean!

Yes, the unit of measurement in Step 1 is "half handful of powder"

Which got me to thinking about just how much time Indian women spend washing clothing by hand. If one could jump the bureaucratic hoops, befriend the right people, set reasonable prices and get a sturdy generator, a Laundromat would have a dramatic impact on a neighborhood, improving productivity and freeing up women’s time.