Ok, so is it just me getting the brainwash from Indian media, or are the Australians particularly whiney these Commonwealth Games?

All the Australia vs India sports that are going on at the moment are allowing me to feel pretty much at home, except for some weird reason I have this tiny part of me that wills the Indians on. Maybe it’s a survival instinct, in case the Aussies somehow win the cricket and the crazed Indian fans turn on me for stealing victory from them…?

Speaking of sports, Caris and Selma and I had great intentions at the start of last week to do some yoga (well the exercises of yoga) each evening. Selma opted out after just 2 days, then in the last couple of days Caris is slacking off, so I’m last one standing. 2 weeks into it, and I’m pretty sure I’m still not doing half the stretches right. Its fun though, and hey, yoga is synonymous with India so I have to at least pretend I did some while I was here.


(Caris and I doing "yoga")

I have concluded that my Australian/Kazakh upbringing has neglected to teach me three particular things in life that I now consider important to my daily living 1. To sing all the songs off Shakiras albums 2. To beat a farm girl, 5 years my junior, at arm wrestling and 3. Being able to catch and skin a monsoon frog.
I didn’t think I would ever utter these words, but frog is so good! Big, juicy monsoon frogs. They are the size of a toad but are a frog, and deep fried they are magnificently tasty. A cross between chicken and fish, in this mostly vegetarian diet I have had over the past few months, frog has become my new favorite meat! These girls could give Bear Grylls a run for his money with their ability to catch food in the wild. Last Sunday I went with the older girls to the jungle and we made a fire and they went and caught about 8 frogs in the pond (in like 20 mins) and we fried them up for afternoon tea. Yum!

Just after the river crossing, with L-R: Euginea, Semma, Me, Caris and Annie
Caris with the first frogFrog de-skinned

Fired frog. yum

I haven’t been into the school much the past few weeks. Instead I have been honing my maternal skills and playing ‘big sister’ to a little boy called Raymond and the two little twins. I must admit it’s only in the last few weeks that I have branded Saloni and Shavani (twins) old enough for me to even pick up, let alone hold while moving in a walking motion. I still haven’t moved on to the changing nappy stage yet, no rush though. If I ever have kids, I’ve concluded that they’re gonna have to come out as 6 month olds otherwise I will be too scared to even touch them.

(me with shavani)

My little Raymond however (named after the TV show “everybody loves Raymond” - ughr) is just the sort of little boy I can cope with: Incredibly cheeky, ridiculously adorable, unbelievably affectionate and typically naughty. We spend our mornings together reading the same book, adventuring off to see the cows, and playing dead then resurrecting each other by placing medicine in each others mouths (yes, every time he does it I wonder where his hands have been…). On particularly friendly and good-mood mornings, he tells me “I miss you” when I pick him up. Seeing as I see him every day I don’t think he has fully grasped the meaning of the phrase, but judging by his little smile I think he means somewhere in between ‘I love you’ and ‘I love you… now play with me”. Yesterday he, Ebyon (the son of one of the staff members) and I had a round of golf which concluded with zero holes being made, zero balls getting lost and one putt being broken. Rather successful I would say.

(My little Raymond playing golf)

The Hindus have a ten day festival running at the moment, one of the biggest on the Hindu calendar. The kids at public schools get 10 days break for it but the Maxton Strong School (the farm school) is only getting 2 days. This festival is called dewali, and it is sort of like the Hindu version of Islamic Ramadan. They fast for 10 days, then hold plays and parties in the village at nights. From the farm we can hear their worship and drones. I wouldn’t mind going to see some of the plays, but everyone on the farm is hesitant about it because 1, they have seen it all before, and apparently the crowds get pretty rowdy and intoxicated. Which actually surprised me. For some weird reason I have this perception that most Indians are very respectful and proper people and drinking is not common. But then same as at home, this is a celebration, and come to think of it, alcoholic fathers are the reason a few of our kids are at the orphanage…


I have just over 3 weeks till I leave! It is just insane how fast time goes here. What am I going to do when I leave and am expected to eat with my fork rather than my hands, flush the toilet every time I go, and not be able to unashamedly put my feet up on anyone’s couch (even public transport), and it be completely culturally acceptable and done by the masses!?

(Cynthia and Raymond at her 3rd birthday party catching bubbles)

All my love,

Lauren xox