I thought Madurai was an impossible city to come to know, just mess of shops and identical buildings and painted-on advertising and thatch-roofed huts, but after two months I have finally got my bearings. It really takes time and exploration and mistakes, but even the most foreign came become the familiar. Essentially everything I first posted about Madurai must now be amended or readdressed now that I have the hindsight of each passing day and confidence as I take to the streets. My morning walk to work had transformed from something new every day to a memorized trail of landmarks, although every so often new stores or juice bars or watermelon carts will pop up like mushrooms over night. We pass the Moolakkari bus stand and face the daunting task of crossing the street. This can be achieved by either joining a shielding scrum with other roadside warriors, forcing on-coming traffic to yield, or otherwise by singly sprinting across when a gap opens up or inching progressively like Frogger to the rows of motorbikes. We pass a breakfast place, then a bicycle repair hut, then a barber hut always with a full chair, and then Poori Man, who will look up from his wok of oil, sitting in perfect Sukhasana on the dirty ground in all his greased-stained-tank-top and frizzled-hair glory, raise a hand and say, “Good morning Krista!” The Poori Man makes the best poori, but only on days we see him rolling out the fresh balls of dough, not peeling them out of packages, ready to puff up into perfect air-filled crisps. If our morning breakfast is runny oatmeal or bizarre instant noodles, we'll sit down on the little wooden bench and have breakfast treats piled on our plates and slathered in sauce by the Poori Man's son and daughter. Peeling ourselves away from the cheap fare, we pass ...

D. 11 februar

Efter en fed søndag, kom mandag d. 11. og det var tid til, at sige farvel til Nanna og Olivia. De skulle flytte til Trinity School og undervise i stedet.

Camilla flyttede ind på mit værelse og da vi skulle tømme skraldespanden, gik vi ud med poserne i børnehjemmets blå plastictønder (skraldespande). Det var tid til oprydnings/arbejde, hvilket blandt andet var at tømme de blå tønder. Børnene viste os, hvor det skulle bæres hen og vi blev noget overrasket over deres "system". Vi havde godt set et af hjørnerne på den store grund, hvor koen står i løbet af dagen og spiser skrald, men at gå på det område med bare fødder...

Deres "system" er at forsøge på, at samle skraldet i de blå tønder.. Går sjældent særlig godt, men når det lykkes og tønderne er fyldt, bæres de ned i et hæsligt hjørne af grunden. Her tømmes skraldet i et KÆMPE jordhul og der sættes dernæst ild til. Det der falder ved siden af hullet, bliver koen sat til at spise…

Mens vi bar skraldespandene, kom lastbilen med det kæmpe ugentlige læs af gamle palmeblade og kokosskaller - det bruges som brænde i børnenes køkken. Det tog en krig for dem at læsse af!!! De 6 mænd i lastbilen, kravlede op på læsset og smed 1 stykke ned af gangen – COME ON GUYS!

Om aftenen blev jeg spurgt om jeg ville øse snacks op (kikærter stegt m. chilli og løg) på børnenes ”fade”. Det var noget sværere end det ser ud og jeg fik da lidt sved ...

As I look at the date of today I realize it is already one year and a month ago that I said to myself; I'm going to India! First it was like a kind of a childhood dream like when you say; "When I'm all grown up I'll be a doctor, I'll marry a rich husband and we'll have five children and live in a castle.". It really had been a dream for all of my life to go to India some day, but I never figured I would go there at eighteen without a high school certificate and above all, on my own. (By the way, it's not like I dropped out of school or anything, it's just I stil have one year to go ;p) Back to the India story, when I had to do my first payment, it all became so real! First I was afraid to do it, because there would be no way back, ofcourse you can always cancel, but I don't want to cancel. So after three nervous days I finally dared to press the 'pay'-button. What I didn't take into account were al the extra costs like a safe insurance for the extra week I'm there, my vaccinations, my visa and extra taxes on the plane ticket. So I started looking for creative ways to pay for everything, I had to because my dad refused to pay it because he didn't want me to go. So I told him, I'm eighteen, I have a passport and enough money, so I'm going, there's no stopping me, yeahh... Ahumm.. Luckily he did 'sponsor' me a bit for my birthday (a). 

Anyway I started looking for other ways to pay the rest, because I just quited my job, not very smart... 

I did found out that my school supports students who do volunteering work, I knew they had some projects in Mongolia, Chine, Niceragua and South-Africa, but I never knew they supported individuals! And because I'm part of the school events organisation, I could throw a party and the profit would go to the project, veeery nice. ...

Midt-februar blev jeg ringet op af en fra PA-kontoret her i Indien. Han sagde han havde set min blog og spurgte om jeg ville skrive en artikel til deres (februar)nyhedsbrev. Den skulle gerne omhandle hverdagen her på Anbarasi Illam og give et indblik i vores arbejde. Jeg fandt hurtigt ud af, at en artikel med udgangspunkt i vores hverdag, blot ville blive kedelig og dårlig. Jeg spurgte derfor om jeg måtte skrive en reportage om vores malerprojekt d. 10/02-2013... Desværre er det ikke muligt at linke til artiklen, men jeg har teksten (de ændrede aldrig noget - heller ikke sproget til engelsk) - kun de 3 øverste billeder indgår i artiklen. 

Jeg fik senere at vide, at "redaktionen" havde meldt tilbage, det var den bedste artikel de nogensinde havde fået tilsendt - Og her kommer den så:    

Ida Grouleff’s experience at the care project in Anbarasi illam

By Ms. Ida Grouleff, Denmark

En unik dag

Lyden af børneråb -og latter runger fra morgenstunden, som altid, i gangene på Anbarasi Illam, men denne dag er anderledes. En lille dreng er iklædt sine fineste bukser og skjorte med et lille hul i. En af de store piger har lige taget sin nye kjole på og er i færd med at flette sit lange hår. Hun betragter en flok mindre piger, der sidder i rundkreds og spiller med sten. Det er den første søndag i måneden, hvilket betyder familiedag og mange ser frem til kl. 13, hvor besøgstiden starter.

Inden kl. 13 har vi dog masser at nå. De seneste dage har vi frivillige brugt på at male drengenes badeområde. Væggene og vasken skinner i lyset fra solens ...

the  start of writing a blog......so people can keep up to date with the happenings of organising this crazy thing..ha.

so far i have made almost nearly half of the money i need. though have been able to pay for my flights which is really exciting as feels all the more real than actually applying to go. the flights are going to wear me down though before i even get there. they cover an entire day of travel, three flights four cities and two bus journeys. so i guess i have a lot of sleeping to do during this time (and shopping i guess mwahaha). but itll all be worth it right? i definitely think so. all the situations ill get into and learning experience s of other hospitals and culture.

at the same time it feels a way off considering how much work i need to do between now and august. there is so much writing to do, assighnments, dissertation, presentations, cap books, esc's......as well going to congress and westminister in my uniform in the florence nightingale commemorative ceremony. and at the same time i must not forget my friends :) so big breath, dance to taylor swift, eat lunch and get on with all this important work.

catch you guys later.