Jeep 70 Years of Freedom….

Authentic… in my every day life, to be genuine in my approach, to do my work honestly.  Never forgetting who iam, being true to myself 

Adventure.. in the way i travel.  Free from form, free from society, free to do what i want when i want.  No expectations….

Freedom… to express myself here and freedom for you to choose to read it…

Passionate… about my travels, about my writing, passionate to share my experiences.  Explore new depths, discover new cultures and hidden gems in the search for paradise…

Uniqueness - the quality of being one of a kind; “that singularity distinguished him from all his companions”

To mark the 70th Anniversary of Jeep and celebrate the embodiment of what Jeep represents… Authenticity, Adventure, Freedom, Passion and Uniqueness.  Jeep has launched an online portal where Jeep lovers can come together to meet follow and share stories of their own uniqueness.  One of these unique individuals being Alex Bellini .  Jeep is currently supporting Alex Bellini on his 5000km race around the United States.

Click on http://www.jeep-people.com/ and get interacted

http://www.youtube.com/JeepOlllllllOPeople

http://twitter.com/#!/Jeep_People
http://www.facebook.com/JeepOlllllllOpeople
http://www.flickr.com/jeep-people
http://www.goodwood.co.uk/revival/welcome.aspx

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Mumbai

Well the train journey to Mumbai was a bit of hell.  I was of course in sleeper class middle berth.  And if youve travelled round india, imagine being in the middle berth section.  One bed above you, one below you and on the floor is endless bodies sleeping in every space available.  This meant that i couldn’t get down to go to the toilet, or even to stand up.  So for 32 hours i lay on my back, imagine 32 hours of lying on your back?  Ok there was one moment where i went to the bathroom, and now imagine this… no shoes, no shoes to go to the toilet.  Yes I stood in human excretment.  This stuff is all over the place here.  The one thing you have to get used to in india is shit.  Its everywhere, its on the roadside, its all over the bathrooms, its on the walls, it gets in your feet.  You are allowed to go to the toilet anywhere in India, and i mean anywhere.  On the platform waiting for a train, outside a restaurant, at the airport, anywhere you can think of and anywhere you like.  If you can be ok with that, then youll be fine travelling here.  In the west we are so afraid of our own dirt, here in india we live and breath and bathe everyday in it!

I was expecting to arrive in Mumbai and it be like Delhi, too many people and a bit aggressive.  It was nothing of the sort.  I hearts Mumbai!  Mumbai has character and charm.  I got in one of the black and yellow taxis and headed for Colaba.  The same old thing happened, the taxi driver offered me a cheaper rate of his cab fare and started taking me to places that he could get commission from.  I was told Mumbai is quite expensive.  So i went to the first guesthouse, it looked worse than a prison cell.  Usually i can tolerate this and just say yeah sure, or show me something else.  I looked in and said: ‘No.  No no no no no no no.’  ‘youou must be joking?’  So i left and someone started to follow me, in that moment i saw India guesthouse, walked up the stairs and got a semi decent room for 400 rupees.  India Guesthouse is where the guy from Shantaram stayed, I was surprised that it was cheap(ish).  I met other travellers who were paying about 2500 rupees for their rooms and some who couldn’t get less than 600.

On my first day there i got asked if i would be an extra in a bollywood film.  I agreed but the next morning i had to wake up at 7am to be picked up and i decided against it.  Its a long day, 7am till 9pm.  You get 500 rupees for it and food, but ive heard stories of not being fed or paid.

Instead I spent my day walking round the city.  It is much calmer than Delhi and alot cleaner.  I kept commenting that i found Mumbai to be very clean.  I got a few odd stares, but for me volunteering in Faridabad Delhi was just ultimate dirt and disgust that my levels of dirt have lowered or my tolerance highered and im just used to it by now.

On my second day i met a south Africa, an Israeli and a girl from England and we all hung out together.  We went to chowpatty beach to have Belpuri, and then to the hotspot where all the Bollywood stars hangout.  I would never have guessed, that the area we were in, was a ‘hotspot’ for the rich and the famous.  Imagine the worst most rough end of Glasgow and then think that the rich and famous hang out there.  Hard to imagine.

The next day we paid 130 rupees for the boat to Elephant Island.  What you aren’t told is that once you arrive on the other side, you must then pay another 250 rupees to get past the entrance.  So we arrived unimpressed.  This is the norm in India too, you are sold into buying something really cheap, then when you get there you must fork out some more money to get past one gate, then another and so on.  Ok if you work out 250 rupees plus 120 rupees, that makes it about £3.50, but its the principle of always being ripped off.  If youre spending that for entrance, then your accommodation, food and water.  It can definitely add up quickly in the cities.  And its tiresome.  Most people accept this.  But we just stood there and said we weren’t going to pay.  Then the man started to haggle with us.  So we ended up paying 120 rupees each and were let in the side gate.  Would you ever imagine being able to haggle your way into Thorpe park?  The London Dungeons?  The London Eye?  Thats kind of what i love about this place too.  There are no rules, you can make your own.  If you have your wits about you then it can be your playground.

Leaving Dharamshala…

In the three weeks that I was in Dharamshala, I became quite close to Tani whom i made friends with.  I stayed with her for the last week and saying goodbye felt like saying farewell to an old friend.  We are still quite close and speak almost every day.  I will definitely come back to Dharmashala and I know that I have home waiting there for me.

From peaceful Dharamshala I headed back to Delhi.  It was the worst bus ride so far. I literally got the last ticket out of McGanj and the seat, was right at the back in the very middle.  To add to this my feet couldn’t touch the ground.  So imagine your feet dangling for 12 hours, and the bus being so bumpy that I was almost catapulted out of my seat on about twenty occasions.  I didn’t sleep for the whole journey.

Back in Delhi and back to old business, arriving at the bus station at 5.30am, having loads of taxi wallahs trying to get your fare.  From being so calm and peaceful up north, it took about 1 second for my Delhi rage to come back in full swing.  I got a taxi ride where the guy tried to drop me off at every guesthouse that he could get commission for, telling me that every hotel that he took me to was in Parhaganj where I wanted to go.  Finally after a lot of persistence he dropped me off at Parhaganj in the middle of somewhere I wasn’t familiar with.  So imagine, it’s still pitch dark in Delhi and a small little blonde girl (me) is walking the streets.  Well from this I attracted a guy who wouldn’t leave me alone, so now what happened was that before I even got to a hotel he was saying something in Hindi so the owners could hear what he was saying.  Surprise, surprise, surprise, every hotel was apparently ‘full’.  Well no, the reality is that this guy wanted me to stay at one of his so that he could make commission from it.  And everyone sticks together with his little plan.  To add to experience he was really drunk.  In one moment I  just wanted to stop and cry (I’ve had a few of these moments), I was afraid, Parhaganj isn’t the nicest of places when it’s dark.  Out of nowhere I see another traveller, so I ask him where he is going and he leads me to his guesthouse, but unfortunately and not by any scam, his hotel is actually full.

He can tell iam stressed and this drunken guy is still following, so he helps me out and we go to find another guesthouse.  At this point, the Australian guy had told the drunk Indian to go away on several occasions, but this type of thing happens all the time everywhere you go, and they just won’t admit defeat.  Somehow things almost get a bit heated between the Australian and the Indian, so I just step in and make a loud noise and Indians don’t like to attract attention and somehow things calm down.

Finally we find another guesthouse and it’s empty, so I check in to sleep all day and prepare for another 12 hour train journey to Varanasi…

Our school days are spent in the following way… The night before we brainstorm away thinking of ideas that are creative but at the same time educational. The school runs from 08.30 till 12 noon. We’ve decided that it is better to go after their morning break and spend the last hour and a half doing arts and crafts with the children because we cant think of something to fill the children’s time up with for four hours everyday. The teachers are really polite and as soon as we get to the school they let us take over. This is very flattering but at the same time daunting. Imagine 50 little kiddies staring up to you waiting for you to tell them to do something. If you’ve run out of ideas it can be a bit tough. So anyways this is why we go a bit later. Ok that’s a little lie, we have developed this bad habit of enjoying aunties breakfast so much that by the time we leave in the morning, it is already the children’s break. But we figure that the teachers can get on with what they usually teach in the morning and we will do the afternoon. I’ve started to realise that unfortunately the teachers can only teach a bit of what they know, which is the A,B,C, counting to 100 and singing songs in Hindi and few bits and bobs. So by us being there and trying add variety, it might give them some more ideas on what they can do with the children, bearing in mind that money doesn’t grow on trees, infact I haven’t even seen many trees since ive been here, but that’s beside the point.

So yesterday we came up with the idea of finger painting, not rocket science I know, but remember we don’t know any Hindi. We got the children to draw an outline of their hands and paint them. Its hard to believe but the kids have never done anything like this before. Some of them needed a bit of help, but once it got going it was a huge success. The main man of the community comes daily to the school now as he can interpret what we want the children to do back into Hindi and he was so pleased, that he got out his camera and started to take loads of pictures of the children holding up their little painted hands.

We end the day (and usually start the day too) with some singing. The favourites are Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes. When these kids get going with this its so funny to watch. They put their all into screaming HEAD SHOULDERS KNEES AND TOES!! In a military sort of way. Then we go onto doing the sort of hokey pokey in Hindi. They all thanks us, and say thank you madame gee, out their little shoes back on with their little suitcases on their backs and run off back to their homes.

First week in India…

We arrived at delhi airport and made our way to get our bags. The driver was waiting for us to take us to our hostel which is linked with the volunteer org. The drive to the hostel was something out of this world. I had been prepared for this as have seen the roads and traffic in south east asia.  Whilst idle we hit the car in front of us. This woman got out of her car and started to have a semi argument with our driver, by this point there was a pile up of cars behind us hooting and shouting all sorts at us. We eventually got back on the road and headed to Gurgaon where our hostel is located. From what I can gather, we were in a really posh estate. There was hot water! and a western toilet!. I savoured this last use of hot water, a decent bed and some good food.

The next day was spent hanging around the hostel waiting for Ananta (our programme co-ordinator) to get his schedule worked out. We had breakfast at 9am, and were told we could go out but must be back by 11am for lunch. Eeerr ok iam new to this, but I know that 11am is still breakfast time right? Just before were heading out we were told, its ok to come back by 11.30, then as we were heading out the door, it was ok to come back by twelve noon.

Regardless this was pointless as no shops had even decided to open yet. We came back to our hostel and had lunch round 11.30. We were told that our half day induction, would be at 1pm, then 2pm. It think it was round 2.30/3pm. It took about an hour. After this the day was spent hanging round waiting for our driver to take us to Faridabad where we would be doing our volunteer work.

Eventually he came and we set off at about 4.30/5pm. It took about an hour to get to Faridabad.

We dropped two other volunteers off at their homestay, met Dr Bandhu, which would be our main point of contact from then on and headed off to our homestay. We were really excited to meet our family, I would like to say the feeling must have been mutual on their part, but im not so sure. We had arrived at an orphanage and shown to our room. The father of the family never introduced himself, never introduced us to his wife. Im still not sure which of the woman there is his wife.

Anyways we were invited to a market where the family (or so I think those people were apart of the family) would sell candles that the disabled children had made. Four orphan children came with, they were the most sweetest little kids. All four of them were deaf, and when we met them they put their two hands together as if to pray. It was their way to show respect.

The next three days were spent figuring out that we were placed at the wrong placement.  Our host family werent very welcoming, we were given very small portions of food, and no water.  I told the father we needed to call Dr Bandhu, he was very vague towards us and i got the impression he didnt want to call him, he said yes sure we will call him in half an hour.  Then we asked again and he said, yes yes in 15 minutes we can call him.  Everything here is all about making money.  If we arent at that orphanage then that father doesnt get money off us.  By this point i had had enough.  We felt like prisoners in this orphanage.  We werent invited into the host familys room, we werent allowed to use their toilet or washing facilities.  Instead we were directed to a room that had no roof and an old dirty bucket that was used for paint.

We were meant to be working with slum children.  After much tiring talks, we were sent to the correct host family where we are staying now.  This family is amazing, we get chai all the time, three big meals a day.  Infact so much food I fear the amount of pounds i will gain in this month.  They have two very sweet little daughters aged two and three and we feel completely at home with the parents we even call them aunty and uncle.

As it has been diwali, weve only managed to go to the slum school once this week.  We drew a candle on a piece of paper and wrote the word DIWALI on it and photocopied sixty copies for the children.  The day was spent colouring in with the kids, and before we all went home, we gave each child a sweet.  I dont know the name but it was a typical sweet that everyone eats for diwali.  The school is right in the slum and the kids have very little.  They start school at 8am till 12noon.  They have a break at 10.30 in which the children run home to eat.  Some of them come back with empty stomachs, when uncle asks them if theyve had some lunch, they shake their heads and continue the day with an empty stomach.  I wondered if these children even had breakfast.  Some of them look like theyve had a wash, other dont look like theyve had one in weeks.  Its truly heartbreaking to see.  You want to help all of them but you cant, you can only try and do your bit…

Gods Own Country

It’s my last night in India before I head off to South Africa.  As I lay on my bed writing this email, sheets half clean, no warm water, the buzz of Bombay outside, the sound of rickshaw taxi wallahs, the never ending hustle and bustle of Bombay streets, the smell of spice, the smell of sewage, the smell of chai.  I wonder how long will it be until my return?

To say I had a great time is an understatement; to say it was amazing is too.  I cannot put into words the experiences I have had here. 

The ultimate Indian experience, a spiritual awakening and three families I hold very close to my heart.  With a sore foot, a backpack on my shoulders, unbrushed hair, a wretched looking Taryn leaves full of love and a bit of sadness.   I’ll be back India and I know you will always be here waiting on my return

My Indian summary:

• Be ok with dirt and getting dirt everywhere, live in it, get your toes in it get your clothes in it, breathe it.
• Hand wash your clothes, it’s good for the soul
• Have the confidence to say No.  People will prey on your vulnerability, if you show you are strong enough, no one will take you for a ride.
• There will always be someone else offering you a better deal
• Be ok with being molested by almost every man you come across
• By saying nahim che ye (could be the phonetical spelling, means I don’t want), shaking your one hand as if to open a tight lid and constantly calling the shopkeeper ‘my friend’, makes you look like you know what you’re talking about, and you can get almost anything down for half the price, if not more.
• Be ok to walk away from something you so desperately want to buy, you might get lucky
• Tell the wallahs you’ve done this journey so many times, it’s really only 50 rupees.  Something like this:  my friend, I have done this journey many times my friend, I’m not stupid tourist, I been in India long time now my friend, you give me India price! Thik hai??  Thik hai??
• Adopt the Indian head wobble, it does wonders to break barriers
• Adopt the half Indian head wobble
• Allow yourself to be ripped off now and again.  Not everything has to be bargained for, if you feel the person is genuine and genuinely needs the money, let him tell you the double price.  Is it really going to break the bank to pay forty rupees for a bunch of bananas instead of twenty?
• Trust your intuition with everything
• Look into people’s eyes
• Say hello and wave to every child in India, don’t ever tire of this.  I never did.
• Pose for every photo for every child
• Buy someone food
• Take the local buses
• And most importantly.  Take your time it’s not a rush to see every town in every province, you might miss something really important that a camera can’t capture. 

Surrender yourself.

Namaste

To Couchsurf or NOT to Couchsurf… YOU DECIDE

This is an email i got from a couchsurfer, im always sceptical about this site for females.  Its like a cover up dating site.  After this email i got about 4 emails to my facebook, a friend request and an invite for a coffee

aye aye aye Taryn.. :)

guess what we call as synchronicity does work,i feel the same brought me to ur page,and reading thru u n ur views,ur superawesomme blog,felt sooo ammmmaaazzzin to come across u Sweets.. :)
felt intrigued,inspired and overwhelmed in more than a
number of ways..be it ur efforts with ur soul within,to encourage faith and connect with the world,be it the way u seem to be exploring the planet,or be it the way u seem to
enthusiastically live ur truths.. :)

so then, Her Highnez has now been here on this side of ur Global HOME.. :)

though a bit late,still i extend a warm n hearty welcome to this land of mystiques,n to the CS family as well..

m sure u gonna have a grrrr8 time.. :)
and hope u are cherishing the oneness,which lies within the
deep permeating diversity this land offers.. :)

share more about what brings u here mate..
ur journey so far on this path of life..choices u made,and dreams that keep u afloat.. :)

neways,feel free to get in touch in case u need any help..
n do drop in,in case u aint planning to miss upon Taj Mahal!
so would feel really blessed if our paths could cross somewhere on this journey.. :)


Cheers,
Godspeed..!

Varanasi

Again I arrive at stupid hour at about 5.30 in the morning.  I’m wondering why I don’t just plan these things better.  The same thing happens, I take a rickshaw to the area I want to stay in and because the streets are so small the driver has to drop you on the main road and you wind your way round these little streets.  Again I have another follower which is fine, I’m usually ok with this in Delhi as I sort of know the area, but when you get to a new city and its dark and someone is following you in the night, it’s just sometimes a bit too much.  I could carry on with this story till the cows came home but there is no point, it’s the same everywhere up north, someone following you trying to get you to go into one of their guesthouse where they can make some money and rip you off, telling you all sorts of things, like, your guesthouse is closed its fully booked etc etc, there’s been a fire. 

Usually I don’t use lonely planet as a bible, but I have found that sometimes when you are a female traveller alone, it’s easier to quickly look in the book before you get to a destination find the cheapest and head there.  Sometimes you can find something next door that’s 100 rupees cheaper, sometimes half the price.

I spent two nights in Varanasi, I met a really nice guy named Jesus, not the real Jesus, but come to think of it he did look a bit like Jesus, we hung out for the day.  Varanasi is on the Ganges and a very holy place, it is the place where people come to cremate their loved ones on the river.  There are loads of bodies being marched down the river with the families chanting mantras.  The first body I saw had the face on show, my knees went weak and I felt a bit strange, but after the first one it was ok. 

I think in total I must have seen about 20 bodies.  The burning ghat, which is the area I was staying in, is the place where the bodies are burnt.  They say that not ever at one time there isn’t a body there being burnt.  It is a round the clock process. 

Things I got to learn are that only men are allowed to attend the burning.  If ladies are there they can’t control their emotions and this can distresses the spirit of the body, also, some women have been known to throw themselves into the fire if it is their husbands, as they feel that their lives are over.  It’s a hard life being a woman in most places, but hard enough being one in India.  Not all bodies are burnt; children are exempt, holy men, pregnant women and anyone that has been bitten by a cobra.  This is because for each of these, the spirit will be pure and be able to go to heaven.  You aren’t allowed to take photos by the burning ghat, but actually I have one from a distance. 

In the morning I got a boat ride on the Ganges.  Everyone bathes in the water in the morning to cleanse the soul.  It’s hard to imagine this all happening as the Ganges isn’t the most cleanest of rivers and it was really cold in the morning.  So on the boat ride a Russian girl asks the boat driver, ‘do people drink the water’?  And I’m thinking, yeah right what kind of a question is that? In that moment, the man leans over (right by the burning ghat) takes a scoop of water in his hand, drinks it, pats his stomach and says:  ‘everyday I drink this water, I grew up on this river, yes we drink the water, but no good for you, you will be very sick’.  To that, all I could say was, ‘well that was very impressive, and I never thought you were going to do that!’

The next day I left Varanasi and prepared for my longest journey ever, 3o hours to Mumbai

From Delhi we said our goodbyes to Auntie, Uncle and the kiddies and headed off on our adventure up to McLeod Ganj, Dharamshala.  Booking out train ticket up here was quite a story.  The shortened version is  that we were lead from one con artist to another trying to sell us a bus ticket for 1200 rupees’ (yeah right im not that stupid).  eventually asking a guy from Australia to show us the legitimate way.  We paid 350 rupees for the train and a commission of an extra 100.  Not bad for a 12 hour sleeper train journey

The train took us to the most random town Chakki Bank where we got the local bus up to McLeod Ganj.  Upon arrival I thought I must have crossed a border somewhere.  This place feels nothing like India, and understandably so, as it is not only the residence of his holiness the Dalai Lama but the Tibetan government in exile and thousands of Tibetan refugees.

Oh momos momos momos momos momos momos momos momos momos momos!!!  If you have never had a momo before you are missing out, and if you’ve never had a cheese and spinach momo before it is a sin I tell you!!  These little dim sum dumplings are oh so tasty,  and delicious!!! And so nutritious! Ok I don’t know about the nutritious part, it just rhymes.

The weather up here is considerably lower.  Dharamshala is at the foothills of the Himalayas and it is winter.  It is now getting to about -3 degrees at night.   My room has no insulation, I have no heating, and my door has a gap underneath it about three of four centimetres high.

So I sleep with the following on:

2 pairs of socks, 1 pair of leggings, 1 pair of thermal pants, 2 vests, 1 cardigan and I’m still too cold to take off my hoodie so I keep it on.  Then I lay a blanket on my very thin mattress, put my sleeping bag on top of me and put another blanket over my sleeping bag.  Yep still freezing.

Fast forward three weeks from arriving at Mcleod Ganj and iam still here.  I will touch lightly on the subject and say that iam going through a personal transformation and right now staying here is the best place for me.  Ive also come to fall in love with this little town.  The tourist season has come to an end and things are much slower, the locals take the time to say good morning, everyone is polite and friendly. 

Everyday I go for breakfast and walk past my friend who owns a clothing shop.  Hes actually quite cute.  I stop to say hi, sometimes we have tea, we chat, I keep going.  I could really get stuck here. 

I bumped into Dilraj who I had volunteered with in Delhi and we had arrived on the same day in this little town, Dil is also here just chilling out. 

So the Dalai Lama spent three days here giving his teachings.  I feel very privileged to have been here at this time and got to spend three days learning a little more about Buddhism and got to see his holiness for three days.  He has the funniest chuckle, you can hear it comes all the way from the bottom of his stomach, and in turn it makes you want to laugh with him.

What I learnt are the thirty seven bohisattva practises, and something that I think I could try and incorporate a few into my daily life. 

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Morning star slum school, is a small school with about on average of forty children.  On a good day you might see about sixty kids coming to school. Children don’t attend regularly. The school is located in the heart of the slum in Faridabad. The ages range from about three years old up to about ten years. Each morning we wake up, have breakfast and walk to the school. I feel like quite a celebrity on the way.  The looks we get are incredible. Some people take photos of us on their  phones and if we get out our camera we have so many people asking us to take a picture of them. Yes before you ask, people have phones and cameras in the slum. Its pretty much like a small little village.  There are shops, cows, houses and running water is just outside the school building. The building is also used to host weddings and hold community meetings. The toilet, unfortunately, I have figured out, is on the side of the road before you are approaching the slum. Today jokingly I decided to critique the pieces of poo and point out which ones I thought were men’s, woman’s and children’s, and then I almost vomited and before that I almost vomited over a cows nice fresh runny poo slap bang in the middle of the road.

Moving on swiftly…..This week which is my second week at the school, has been spent teaching the children the alphabet, a bit of maths and singing . They seem to be really good at remembering things and rehearsing what they have learnt but I don’t know if they can put it into practise just yet. They know how to count, and some of the children know their times tables. I’ve found it quite challenging since the children speak Hindi and I don’t know the language. It has only been a three day week as there is a festival happening in the slum. They have built a hole in the ground outside the school, and on Thursday, the woman will sit in the water and pray to the sun until the sun sets. I still haven’t quite understood why they are doing this or what the reason is, but it seems quite important as they have closed the school for Thursday and Friday. We have all been invited along to watch and join in, but as we have been given a long weekend off, we are on our way to Delhi tonight, then head to Jaipur on Friday morning and im not too keen on the idea of suspending myself into water and sand.

Today I don’t feel so great, ive had a cold for the past week or so and have developed a type of smokers cough from the pollution, and random aches and pains. Last night Aunty gave me some type of tea which helped a bit. Lets hope I feel better before hitting Delhi tonight. Not sure if this cold will ever go away while living in Faridabad. There is so much pollution and smog and smoke that I cant seem to recuperate in the night time.

Yesterday was quite hilarious, an old man on his bike literally stopped in the road and asked us to take a photo of him.  We didn’t have any cameras on show but I guess he just figured that we had one which we did. So we got out the camera and took the photo.  He didn’t even request to see what it looked like, he thanked us and went off on his way. We have been quite lucky to have met Dilraj who is Indian but born in England and speaks great Hindi, its been really useful as Dil has been our translator for the past two weeks.

We went into Delhi on Tuesday after school, went to a bar and well we stayed so late that we couldn’t get back to Faridabad that night. Aunty and Uncle had been calling and calling us as they were really worried, but we were just drunk, and couldn’t tell them. So we had to tell a little bit of a fib that we hadn’t realised how late it was and that we would stay in a guesthouse and make our way back in the morning. So the four of us Dilraj, Teppei, Cara and myself all stayed a night in a guesthouse which had two single beds next to each other. So the four of us on these two single beds. It was hard to sleep. We came back in the morning and said our apologies, then headed to an orphanage for mentally retarded children. It was a bit overwhelming to see older children with all these problems. We spent the morning playing a ball game with them and then headed back to Morning Star school where we taught the older kids a bit of English.