A Circle of Peace: A 9/11 story the year after

by Jamie Rhein on

There are moments in life that ververberate like the sound after a Tibetan singing bowl is struck with a mallet. The sound moves outward and outward and outward–hopefully evoking good and centering force in the universe.

Sometimes in travel, there are those experiences where you notice how diverse the crowd is and how well folks are getting along. This is where Louis Amstrong’s song “It’s a Wonderful World” would play if life really was a musical.

Those moments can feel like healing for those times when people don’t get along. At least that’s how it is with me.

There is a room of New Delhi called the Hall of Peace where middle schoolers gather once a week for the school assembly. Dozens of nationalities are represented, and these are kids who will eventually move on in the world with visions of the world’s people in the make up of their skin.

On September 11, 2002, this is what happened there. The result was as if someone struck a singing bowl. This day each year, I can hear its sound.

[Continue reading for the reason why.]

Art of Diversity forms a Circle of Peace

At 3:35 on that Wednesday afternoon, the time students generally rush out the doors, middle schoolers at the American Embassy School in New Delhi needed to be reminded it was time to leave. They were gathered in the Hall of Peace, the school’s main meeting place where flags of many of the nearly 60 students’ nationalities hang.

On this particular Wednesday, a year from the day that students wondered if it was still safe to go to school, these adolescents transformed the H.O.P. with art. On September 11, 2002, nothing was said about the horrific occurrence of planes crashing, buildings falling and people dying.

Nothing was said about worries and fears. Not a word about what would happen if India and Pakistan do not resolve their differences, or if Israel and Palestine do not resolve theirs, or what will happen if the US does follow through with its threats to attack Iraq.

Terrorists had no place in the Hall of Peace on this day. But, children, their teachers, their support staff, and their principal did. At 3:35, gathered in a circle that no one told them to form, they were looking at doves. Not just a few doves, but more than 100. These were large, flat, wooden cutouts that each student, along with a partner, had just finished painting minutes earlier.

This school in New Delhi exists mainly for the expatriate community’s children whose parents, from various countries and for various reasons, work in India. The people who go there to teach and learn recognize that its population looks like a miniature UN. On a few occasions, the power and wonder of this mix connect together.

On September 11, 2002, through this middle school-wide project, art teacher Anja Palombo brought nations together. It only took the use of the school cafeteria, a dozen teachers, support staff, 210 students and an open-minded principal, all armed with acrylic paint, brushes and pre-cut , flat wooden doves to create a world vision where only peace has a chance.

Symbols like olive branches, Om and peace signs and hearts echoed the words that other students chose. “Heal Thy Environment,” “Harmony,” and “Peace is Hope” were written in English. Other messages were written in languages such as Hindi, Chinese and Danish.

With their bursts of blended colours from pastels to almost neon, and small glued-on mirrors, symbols and words, the doves took on personalities as varied as the students who painted them. Students like Kina, Prashant, Masetle, Fatimah, Soo Young, Beth and Tamas Pataky, worked with heads bent together in a buzz of festive activity.

Creating peace is not particularly quiet. Sometimes it involves moving about a spacious room filled with tables, choosing paint carefully and discussing ideas. It means making space at a table for any Buddhist, Christian, Jew, Hindu or Muslim to join in. It also involves allowing for participation of those with varied abilities, even those who take longer to come up with an idea. But, eventually, the ideas do come, and the collective whole becomes more than just any one person’s vision.

When students stood in the Hall of Peace looking at the doves they carried from the cafeteria on that recent Wednesday, the excitement was not just at seeing their dove amongst the others. It was in seeing the diversity. No two doves looked alike, not even if they were made from the same shaped cutout.

Peace as a collective contains many versions. The doves, now mounted on H.O.P.’s walls, seem as if they are soaring and dancing with each other under the nations’ flags. When people come to this gathering place, they do not find the danger of terrorism. Instead, what they find is a circle of peace.

[The original article was submitted to The Times of India who printed it. I adjusted the paragraphing to make it easier to read here and adjusted some wording.

Many of the students who were in this room are now in their first years of college.]

Olympics inspired gift idea. Children’s art is a big hit

by Jamie Rhein on

When Meredith Vieria from the Today Show was given a tour of the Olympic Village, specifically the housing of the Americans, trap shooter bronze medalist Corey Cogdell showed Vieria a painting in her room that was created by a child in China.

A framed picture of a child’s artwork was given to each Olympic athlete as a room decoration. It’s theirs to keep whether they medal or not.

Vieira was quite moved by the gesture of a child-produced gift. I thought about the excitement that the children must have felt when they were making their paintings knowing their creations would be going to athletes from around the world and how they were contributing to their country’s mega, unforgetable, international event.

It can make a heart feel warm and fuzzy for sure.

Seeing the painting reminded me of the items to buy when traveling that offer more meaning than a production piece souvenir. Any work made by a child has been favorably received whenever I have given them as gifts.

I once bought three drawings by children that were sold in a fundraiser art show for a refugee center that houses families in India who were displaced by strife. I have forgotten the specifics of who received the funding, but I I can see the art clearly. I was touched by its hope and sweetness. The show was at the India International Center in New Delhi, a place that hosts high quality events, mostly centered on the arts. This is where I saw the writer Pico Iyer at a symposium of Indian authors who write in English.

Granted, framed paintings are cumbersome. Another option is handmade greeting cards that can be framed once you get home. Often these cards are used to make money for organizations that are searching for dollars.

Keep your eyes open. Thailand, Vietnam and India are wonderful places to look for such items. I still have cards I bought to give away. Even if the cards aren’t made by kids, or go to charity. handmade cards are helping to support someone.

New Delhi runway turns into a zoo

by Jamie Rhein on

The mix of animals, traffic and people in New Delhi is fascinating any day of the week. When I lived there, pulling up alongside an elephant at a traffic light did happen. Avoiding hitting the cows that meandered at the sides of the roads was a daily venture.

Once, our car grazed a cow just as it twitched its hind end towards traffic. When the side-view mirror was snapped off, my husband quipped, “It must have been in a reflective mood.”

There was one section where fruit bats the size of dogs hung upside down from trees, and another part where monkeys gathered in large groups. Camels also meandered through the neighborhood. Hiring one for a kid’s birthday party was standard.

Recently, New Delhi has become more zoo-like with the heavy rains. As animals are getting flooded out of their natural habitat homes, they’ve looked for higher ground and have found it at the New Delhi airport on the runways. Lizards, jackals and birds have shown up in large enough numbers that they’ve been removed to a wildlife sanctuary.

Just another reason for a flight delay. “Monitor lizard in the way. Please be patient; we’ll be taking off shortly.”

According to the article, this three to four-foot-long creature can create some significant damage to an airplane. I’ll say.

“Bizarre Foods” on the Travel Channel: Season Finale– Delhi

by Jamie Rhein on

Location: Delhi, the city with a history that dates back to 1650 A.D. This is where the Mughal Empire once reigned supreme leaving stunning buildings in its wake, and the British tried to recreate into an organized place of roundabouts and more stunning buildings. Common to every part of the city is the sacred cow that wanders throughout. Food truths: milk crosses cultural boundaries, and there’s nothing quite like a perfect masala.

Episode Rating: 4 Sheep Testicles (out of 4) using Aaron’s system, but trade sheep for goat.

Summary: Oh, rapture! Joy! I thought I missed food in Taiwan until I saw Andrew Zimmern eat his way through Delhi. With the abundance of food options and places to eat, Zimmern and his crew did an admirable job honing in on highlights of the gastronomic variety. If one thinks that Indian food is nothing but yellow curry powder, this episode dispelled that. Another dispelled myth is Delhi belly. I never had it in two years that I recall. If I had it, I’d remember.

First stop, Chandni Chowk market in Old Delhi. This teeming place is as chaotic as it looks on TV.

“Every nook and cranny of this town has someone who is making a tasty treat,” declared Zimmern, who made an impromptu stop by a pan sizzling with fried potatoes. “Anytime I see fried potatoes, I eat them. I’m from Minnesota,” he said, then moaned through his bites, “These are good; these are so good.”

Here’s some other Old Delhi eating pleasures that Zimmern savored: Daulat ki Chatt, a sweet milk dish made from the froth; Nihari, a “hearty and spicy” stew made with buffalo thighs and beef brains that simmers for 5 to 6 hours; a fruit sandwich made with cottage cheese, apple slices, pomegranate seeds that is “delicious,” but hard to eat because the ingredients fall out; and a masala lamb stew that “smells almost chocolaty.”

This segment pointed out is that you can eat street food without getting sick if you’re picky and careful. Zimmern turned away a potato-chickpea dish that was garnished with tamarind tap water. I second the stay away from the tap water advice.

When visiting Old Delhi, a guide can take you to the best eating spots, like Zimmern’s did, and point out the details of the architecture and cultural highlights while helping you navigate the packed windy streets. I recommend it.

To get to the food without the wandering, stop at El Jawarhar Restaurant at the entrance of Chandi Chowk It’s across the street from the largest mosque in Delhi. Zimmern loved everything about this place, and went into great detail about how Muslim food preparation practices, called halal, helps ensure that the meat is fresh and clean. Food descriptors he used: “rich and creamy,” delicious,” “bright hot,”and “that sauce is out of this world.” The lamb scrotum, though, needed “to be cooked a whole lot more to be edible.”

I’ve eaten at El Jawarhar, and found it as good as Zimmern gushed. There are plenty of food choices without the odd ball ingredients–literally.

Next stop New Delhi, the part of Delhi designed by the British. Bukhara, Zimmern’s first eating pleasure highlight, is considered one of the best restaurants in Asia and is popular with the in-crowd–like famous people. Anyone can eat here, though. I did. The food is as superb as Zimmern said, but I have to say, it’s not as expensive as he alluded to. One of the great things about India is you can eat the very best food without spending outlandish prices. Maybe the prices were outlandish and I have amnesia.

Besides eating the glorious food, you can watch the chefs cook it. There’s a large plate glass window in one wall. My dad, who was visiting us, and is as much as a food buff as Zimmern is, went back to the kitchen for a chat. We ate exactly what Zimmern did, plus a couple other dishes. The dal is fantastic and the chicken is the “melt in your mouth” version like Zimmern said. The chef’s explanation of how eating with your hands helps add to the sensory experience of eating food is exactly right.

Besides trotting to restaurants, Zimmern headed to private homes. One he got to on the back of milk vendor’s motorcycle. Here I found out that Zimmern and I have something in common. We both are wild about Saag Paneer. This is a spinach dish with cottage cheese-like cubes. He drank lassi, my daughter’s favorite. It’s a yogurt milk drink blend that comes in a variety of flavors. Zimmern’s was laced with cardamon, rose syrup and pomegranate.

At a Kashmiri fashion designer’s house, Zimmern he had a 32-course meal called a Wazwan, a traditional Kashmiri feast where lamb is the meat of choice and it’s accompanied by a dizzying array of dishes, all served one at a time. Pacing is the key, Zimmern said. “Now, I’m starting to burp. The level of food is rising in me.” This was at 1 a.m. By the end, he was stretched out, leaning against the wall, his hands on his stomach.

He also went to Oh! Calcutta, a modern upscale place where he learned about the various ways bananas are prepared, including the flowers and stems. People I know went here and loved it, I never did since we had our own favorites. If ‘m ever in Delhi again, I’m heading here.

The last stop was the Sikh temple, Gurudwara Bangla Sahib where anyone and everyone can come for a free meal. Zimmern, with a Sikh turban on his head helped make chapatis and stirred dal for the masses. Zimmern marveled how it felt to be in “a sea of humanity but feel close to everyone in the room.” I was one of the masses once and vouch that the food is simple and good.

As Zimmern said of Indian cuisine, it’s a mix of flavors and cooking techniques based on religion and the region of the country the food is from. In Delhi, you really can get it all.

Pico Iyer: Open Road: The Global Journey of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama

by Jamie Rhein on

Pico Iyer, my ultimate favorite travel writer, has a new book out Open Road: The Global Journey of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama. Whenever I see Iyer’s name, it’s like a laser beam calling me to read it.

The book chronicles Iyer’s 30 year history with the Dalai Lama that that began when he first met him. This was back before fame struck either of them. As he told in an interview with World Hum, Iyer got the idea for the book five years ago after the war in Iraq started. Then Iyer began to look into the patterns of the Dalai Lama’s life and travels and Iyer’s own. From my understanding, the book is mostly about the Dalai Lama with Iyer’s presence dipping in and out of depending on the chapter and theme.

The idea sounds fascinating to me. I do think there are people who come into our lives at particular times that are turning points for us. Certain world events offer a backdrop or a heightened sense of awareness in our own day to day meanderings. The book also intrigues me because of my own chance encounters with both Iyer and the Dalai Lama that left an impression.

In Dharamsala, in the courtyard of the monastery where he lives, the Dalai Lama walked right by us as he made his way to address the audience who had crowded in to hear him talk. It was the day before the U.S. went into Iraq. I remember how beamy he seemed when he walked by right where I stood leaning against a fence of the courtyard. Being with people from all over the world at an audience on the day before the U.S. went into Iraq is something I don’t think I’ll ever forget. It’s an unusual happening at an unusual time in an unusual place kind of thing.

As for Pico Iyer, I had no idea he was in New Delhi when I sat down in my living room with a cup of coffee and the newspaper one morning. There his name was under a things happening today type section. At a writers conference. “Pico Iyer’s at a writing conference!” I sputtered out, spewing coffee. “Pico Iyer! Today, as in now,” I moaned. “Oh, why do I find out about these things so late?”

“Let’s go then,” my husband said, grabbing our then one-month old and the diaper bag. He didn’t want to be left stranded for who knows how long until I returned. So there we were, hustling for a taxi. We sat in the balcony of the auditorium during the panel discussion that Iyer was moderating.

Afterwards, I went downstairs to say hello and hand Iyer a short odd little creative non-fiction piece I wrote about him. He shook my hand, seemed pleased, and sent me a thank-you post card later. And that’s my Dalai Lama/Pico Iyer global journey story. I’m not sure what turning point I had in my life as a result of seeing either one of them. I think I’m still waiting, but the encounters make me smile when I think about them, so perhaps, that’s enough. [via World Hum]