Shockingly enough, the Russian Facepalm Interview did not result in my iminent relocation to Russia. You have three seconds to act surprised.....and done. However, a spontaneous email sent to a school in Dharamsala, India that my sister had found about an unpaid volunteer teaching position did result in a welcome to join them in the foothills of the Himalayas. So my sister and I decided to pack our bags and journey to the Far East for two months of exploration, teaching, and photography (my sister is, without a doubt, a better photographer than I am teacher). Thus begins another tale that begins, and ends, because of my complete inability to take preventative measures, imploy even basic skeptiscm, or look up what "Delhi belly" acutally is.
My first clue that I might not have the best idea of what I was getting myself into was the tone of the emails I received from the school itself. Instead of the daunting, experience-demanding list of qualifications laid out by the other schools I had looked into, this place didn't ask....at all....for anything. Maybe that should have been a bit of a red flag, but to a young person looking for a job who doesn't have much experience to name and with more resume gaps than you can shake a stick at, it seemed like a godsend.
The planning of the trip went pretty well. One afternoon of drinking light beers in the backyard with a laptop and our passports scored us visas to stay in India for up to six months, a hostel, and plane tickets to Delhi and from there to Dharamsala. I suppose a reasonable person might have taken another day or two to do some research on the place they were going to spend two months and all of their money, but what are things like access to drinkable water and food poisoning when compared to the wonder of world travel?
After 26 hours of travel, a sleepless layover in Germany, and a taxi driver that kicked us out with two large suitcases, a finger point, and the entirely unhelpful advice to "go that way and ask," the wonder of travel died in the face of the longest staircase I have ever seen and a mountain goat.
My first clue that I might not have the best idea of what I was getting myself into was the tone of the emails I received from the school itself. Instead of the daunting, experience-demanding list of qualifications laid out by the other schools I had looked into, this place didn't ask....at all....for anything. Maybe that should have been a bit of a red flag, but to a young person looking for a job who doesn't have much experience to name and with more resume gaps than you can shake a stick at, it seemed like a godsend.
The planning of the trip went pretty well. One afternoon of drinking light beers in the backyard with a laptop and our passports scored us visas to stay in India for up to six months, a hostel, and plane tickets to Delhi and from there to Dharamsala. I suppose a reasonable person might have taken another day or two to do some research on the place they were going to spend two months and all of their money, but what are things like access to drinkable water and food poisoning when compared to the wonder of world travel?
After 26 hours of travel, a sleepless layover in Germany, and a taxi driver that kicked us out with two large suitcases, a finger point, and the entirely unhelpful advice to "go that way and ask," the wonder of travel died in the face of the longest staircase I have ever seen and a mountain goat.
