Monday, December 7, 2015

India Week 12 - A Day in the Life of Lottie M'am Teacher & Update!

6:45am - The daily morning wake up call from Padma Aunty banging rapidly on our door shouting 'M'AM, LAPTOP ROOM KEYS?', coming to collect the keys for the computer lab which we, as usual, failed to bring back down to the office from the night before.

7:30am - The calm and gentle lull of Katrina & The Waves' 'Walking on Sunshine' fills the room. El and I are shivering under our thin blankets from where we thought it would be a good idea to sleep with the fan on all night.

8:15am - Finally decide to emerge out of bed after hitting the snooze button a good six times. The early morning sunshine creeps through the cracks of where we've covered the gaping hole in our window with cardboard and tape. I sleepily boil the kettle for a bucket wash and open a new door of the Maltesers advent calendar my mother very kindly sent me in the post. Of course, I could brave an actual shower, but as it is now officially a freezing cold winter in Hyderabad (a good 25 degrees on a cold day), I'd much rather have a nice hot kettle bucket of water and a jug over psyching my self up for the freezing cold shower. It's actually really refreshing!

8:40am - El heads downstairs for breakfast. As I have a strict 'no rice before 12pm' rule, I stay in the room getting ready, which involves choosing which one of my many pairs of jazzy trousers to wear, deck my self from head to toe in all of my new Indian jewelry, and recently, clean my newly pierced nose with coconut oil. My breakfast usually consists of fruit or biscuits El has smuggled up from downstairs after she's finished eating khichdi *shudders*. Very occasionally, the school has idly and nice bread for breakfast, which means I may just wake up on time and venture downstairs.

9:40am - Assembly. El and I usually fall into a post breakfast nap and are abruptly woken up by the assembly bell, and often find ourselves running downstairs with toothpaste still around our mouths just in time for the morning prayer. Assemblies are lead by a different group of students each morning, and starts with a roll call, morning prayer, and then the singing of the Telangana state anthem, which we are trying our hardest to learn. We join in with it every morning and manage to pick up a new bit each time. After the students have sung (which most mornings feels like a good ten minutes of singing), Lily M'am, the principle of the school, makes the announcements and shares news. Often there are certificates and prizes to be handed out from functions the day before, or students will take this opportunity to sing a song or recite a poem. I then make my way over to the LKG line where I'm greeted with an enthusiastic 'Good morning Teacher!', and help Anna M'am, the LKG teacher, get the little ones up the two flights of stairs to their class room. As there are so many of them and most are visually impaired, if not completely blind, this can be quite the task as children at this point are running here there and everywhere trying to get to their class on time. Before our LKG lesson, Elena and I often visit the printing room the help the teachers out with the printing of Braille text books. This often involves correcting all the mistakes from where the books have been scanned in and helping to scan new text books in.

11:30am - Elena and mine's joint LKG lesson. LKG get their snacks, water and a toilet break at 11:20am, so Elena and I arrive to their classroom just at the end of this (and, thanks to the very kind Lavenya Auntie, are allowed to help ourselves to snacks as well.) If Anna M'am teacher is absent, we usually take cover for her and have already, at this point, taught LKG for an hour and a half. If not, we are greeted again with an angelic chorus of 'Good morning Teacher!' However, as soon as Anna M'am and Lavenya Auntie leave, the chaos starts. The novelty of two English teachers have not worn off on this lot yet, and when the door closes, we are attacked with shouts of 'LOTTIE M'AM TEACHER, BOMBALOO' (toys). The LKG lesson usually consists of singing songs, playing with toys, and helping the children who need it to work on their mobility movement through completing activities such as putting beads on strings and puzzles. Easy job, right? Wrong! The class have got so much energy and are literally bouncing off the walls, but Elena and I love them none the less, and LKG have become one of our favourite classes to take. When we're in a good mood we'll take the plastic slide and sea saws out into the hallway, with balls and hulla hoops, and take them for one big all dancing, all singing PE lesson. By the end of it we're absolutely pooped, but we love it.

12:45pm - 1:45pm - LUNCH! Elena and I always eat second batch with the older children as first batch is always chaotic and busy with the little ones. This gives us time to chill out after LKG for twenty minutes or so. Lunch usually consists of traditional veggie south Indian curries and rice (surprise, surprise), and though I had my struggles with the food at first, I've grown to absolutely adore the food they serve here at Devnar, finishing every portion and often asking for seconds. It may not seem like much, but anyone who knows me well will know how fussy I was with food this time last year. If I went to an Indian restaurant I wouldn't venture further than lamb tikka with cheese naan bread, but now I've been introduced to a whole new world of delicious spicy potato curries, weird unknown vegetables that taste heavenly, and biriyani rice, there's no going back. Often, when it's a donor's birthday or there's a special occasion, lunch will be donated, and will often include yummy bread, crisps and sweet for pudding.

1:45pm - 3:45pm - Afternoon lessons. Elena and I usually take one or two lessons each in the afternoon. I know I'm not supposed to have favourites, but I really enjoy teaching my older 8th class. It's a complete change to the chaos of LKG in the morning, and I get to teach them biology (I say 'teach', I dictate from a text book while they take notes in braille. But I'm learning too!). It's fun to pretend I'm an actual biology teacher and have an actual syllabus to work from even though I still have no idea how the cloning process works. For my other classes I read them stories from a book El's parents sent her about the history of the Kings and Queens of England, followed by questions at the end. When they've been good I finish a lesson with a game of Simon Says, which they absolutely love. When we don't have a lesson we'll go back to the printing room or computer room to see if our help is needed anywhere.

3:45pm - 7:00pm - After school time varies each day. Some days, El and I take this opportunity to take an auto to Secunderabad market to score some bargains and stock up on bulk boxes of sweets, or visit the British Council library on Necklace Road which I've recently become a member of. If not, we usually meet up after our lessons and swap notes in the computer lab while catching up on social medias and having a chill out. There's always a snack bell sometime between 4 and 5pm, which can be anything from a packet of biscuits, to birthday cake that's been donated, to samosas, burgers, fruits and mango juice. Most evenings now at 5pm we take dance rehearsals for the Christmas nativity. At the moment, we are teaching the children a dance to 'Let it Go' from Frozen that they will perform in the play. Initially it was difficult to get the choreography across to a group of blind students, but they've worked so hard and are really picking up on the dance. It's really easy to get cross during rehearsals when they're chatting and not listening, but when they've learnt new steps and are still practicing by themselves later that evening, it makes it all worth it. When they've been really good we finish off the hour of dancing by dancing about to the song 'Happy' and generally muck about. El and I then flop down in our room, completely exhausted but usually happy with our days work. This is followed by heading downstairs with our books to sit outside and read, though this is always interrupted by children wanting to play with us, not that we mind! We muck about with the kids or sit with Padma and her son Sai in the office with Sai Sethwick, one of our LKG students who is actual comedy gold, and chat and laugh and muck about.

7:30pm - 8:30pm (ish) - DINNER! Again, Elena and I eat second batch, which is even more quiet in the evenings due to the students that go home for dinner. It's really nice to sit and eat dinner with the aunties and the older boys when it's quiet and you can have a proper conversation. Again we are treated to delicious south Indian curries, and again if there are donations in the evening, we may have chicken curry (twice a month) or egg curry (a few times a month), followed by birthday cake or sweet if it's a donor's birthday. Evenings are usually my favourite time at Devnar - it's really chilled out and it's so nice to be surrounded by your students and the staff even when school's over.

8:30pm onwards - Again, our after dinner time varies each evening. Sometime's Elena and I 'roam' (walk with our arms around each other across the courtyard like the students do), sit and chat with the older boys and Sai, go upstairs to the dormitories and sit and chat with the older girls, or muck about with the little ones until we tire them out and then help put them to bed. On numerous occasions, students have come up to us as late as 9 or 10pm and ask to dictate their homework for them, ready for the next day. This can be infuriating, but then we remember that that's what we came here to do, and it actually ends up being rather enjoyable. El and I often make an 'after dinner plan', which usually involves us doing our own thing and doing our washing, working out or doing lesson plans for the next day. I try and work out every evening to keep the effects of the numerous curries I'm consuming at bay, and El joins in most evenings to motivate me, which is fab. We then head to the computer lab at about 9:30/10pm, where we watch a movie or the Graham Norton show on Youtube, often accompanied by a packet of biscuits of chocolate from the corner shop (another reason I force my self to work out as often as possible.)

Midnight - El is a night owl so I tend to leave her in the computer lab to do her own thing and head for bed, completely pooped from our day. I always leave the light on for her and the door on the latch, then snuggle down and read or listen to music, before going to sleep and getting up the next day and doing it all over again.

Of course, each new day at Devnar varies completely to the one before, which is why I love it here so much. We could be woken up at 7am and told to put our sari's on and find ourselves in a bus twenty minutes later on our way to a school trip. Our most recent one consisted of us being driven to the Sai Junior College, the equivalent of Sixth Form College to Devnar School, and accompanying the older students to a 5* hotel near Hyderabad airport, where a program was being held in their honour. We spent the day dancing, singing, eating yummy food and stealing all the free water bottles, and we're treated so well by the incredible staff at the hotel. After we were bundled back onto the bus with bags of food to take home, El and I straightened our sari's and looked at each other as if to say 'Is this really our job?' Of course not all days are as luxurious as those and the ones that are are considered a real treat. Some days we wake up to find there are no lessons at all with no warning the night before due to a festival or national holiday or exam season, which can leave us feeling a bit useless, but are most appreciated if it's followed by four days straight of lessons and science projects. I think my favourite part of my life here is the uncertainty of each day - I wake up in the morning not knowing what's going to happen and knowing that anything could happen. It's truly magical.

I hope you enjoyed this insight into a day in the life of Lottie M'am Teacher! To finish it off, here are some photos from the past month to update you on what I've been up to.

Stay happy,

L x


Pav Bahji, aka the best thing I think I've eaten in India so far. Fried bread rolls with a delicious veggie masala and coriander sauce - SO. EFFING. GOOD.


I know she will be reading this, so here's a shout out to our lovely friend Divya. She took us to get our nose and ears pierced (for a price so cheap I'm too embarrassed to admit I paid so little for a piercing), and then introduced us to a whole new world of gorgeous Indian street food I've never tried before. It was heavenly, and we're so greatful to Divya and her family for making us feel so happy and welcome in Hyderabad!



El and I outside the BEST Indian food stand we've eaten at so far.


We came downstairs one evening to find Padma, our host, had dressed Sai Sethwich in traditional Indian dress. She was crying from laughter and there was no explanation whatsoever - everyone just thought it was really funny.


With a student from The Special School for the Death on International Day for Persons with Disabilities. 


I love this photo of my favourite group of male students - they're so cheeky!


Found a dog. Got happy.


Lottie M'am the banana and Vindakesh, who has memorized my mobile number after using it once to call the customer care team, and now likes to recite it every time he sees me.


Nagamani comes to visit me often and calls me her 'akka' (big sister) and I call her my 'chille' (small sister). She's an absolute peach and always cheers me up and makes me laugh.


Coming soon...

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

India week 8 & 9 - A (rat) race against (the science exhibition) time

Dear all,

It's 5am on Sunday morning. I'm blissfully stirring in my sleep, rolling around in what can only be described as a sheet of iron that is known as my bed, happily unaware at the drama that is about to occur. Just as I'm getting to the really good bit of my dream, where Ryan Gosling declares his love for me, I hear something. I open my eyes - it's still dark in my room at Devnar, though a small stream of light indicating the beginning of a new day creeps through the crack of our window, the one without a pane or glass. I decide to ignore the sound and snuggle back down to sleep, when I hear it again. This time, I focus my attention on the floor, and see a small haze of brown whiz past me. I can't see at the best of times without my glasses, so first thing in the morning, in a sleepy daze, I can't quite make out what it is.

All of a sudden, the brown haze is on my arm, and then on my chest. It's small, it's fury, it has whiskers - and it's staring straight at me.

Oh yes, readers - it appears we have a little visitor.

I assure you that I did not react as calmly in the situation as I am coming across in this blog post. Our rat nightmare started when Elena and I arrived back from our October travels - two weeks blissfully spent lazing on beaches in Alleppey, riding scooters around Fort Kochin, indulging in all the Western food available and making the most of the free unlimited hostel WiFi. We were greeted with enthusiasm and love from the remaining students who hadn't gone home for the holidays, Padma and all the aunties and uncles when we arrived back to Devnar late last Sunday evening, and ventured upstairs to our room to dump our bags. Before our holiday, I had made sure to clean the bathroom and the floor and generally tidy up so that we would arrive home, presumably tired, from our travels to a nice clean room and were able to go straight to bed. I noticed as soon as we got in that someone or something had made themselves at home in our room while we were away - packets of chicken noodles that I was saving for a cheat day were nibbled at and open on the floor, as were a packet of biscuits left over from the generous food package my family sent me a month ago. Cursing my self for leaving food out in the open while we were away, we thought nothing more of it and went to bed.

It was the first day back at school the following day, so Elena and I put our post holiday tiredness aside and ventured downstairs to start the day, excited to see all of our students again. It was strangely quiet at Devnar in the first few days - students arrived back in drips and drabs and our lessons were all over the place. That evening saw the first of many encounters we were going to have with the little buggers - one ran over my foot as we were about to go downstairs for dinner, causing me to dramatically shriek and leap up onto the bed, crying my eyes out as El laughed her head off before giving me a comforting cuddle. The next day took a turn for the worst - Elena and I were sat outside our room, happily sticking things down on a piece of cardboard, hoping to make a presentable model of the hydronic cycle for the science exhibition, taking place this week. When Elena got up to get something out of our room, one ran out past her feet, making us question if there were any others in the room. El ventured bravely inside, armed with a broom stick as her weapon of choice, to investigate, while I followed nervously behind, more timid and scared than probably the bloody rat itself. I heard the dreaded scratching noise and leaped onto the bed for safety, when Elena tactfully pointed out that that probably wasn't the best place for me to stand right now. As I saw a flash of a tale wiggle out from underneath her pillow and into a pile of clean clothes, I ran downstairs crying hysterically to Padma, who laughed, told me to eat a chapati, and sent an uncle upstairs to investigate. It turns out there was one rat under my pillow and three under El's. All of the nightmares I had envisioned on my training for India were coming true - and I was not a happy bunny. Poor Elena - she has been given the most useless partner of all time when it comes to all things creepy crawly and gross. We decided to take action and cleared everything out from our room, stripped the beds, mopped the floors and took any form of food that lurked on the surfaces of our room and stored it safely in our fridge. Even when we were munching on Elena's special emergency Maoam sweets that evening in our new bed sheets and Indian moo moo's bought in Bangalore, I was still hesitant to fall asleep, even though I'd taped a broom to the gap underneath our door to stop them coming in at night.

But the nightmare didn't stop there. After one rat made it's self way too comfortable for my liking early that Sunday morning, I lay awake in the dark until the breakfast bell went, and marched downstairs demanding that something was to be done. A very kind uncle barricaded the gap underneath our door that appeared to be the rat's main gateway, and I slept soundly that night knowing they could no longer disturb me. Unfortunately I woke the next morning to find that they like to sneak into our bathroom at night through the ventilation window at the top, and like to knock over our toothbrushes and, quite frankly, shit everywhere. When will the ordeal end? My nightly routine now consists of forcing Elena to check every inch of our room before I go to sleep, and waking up every morning forced to clean the bathroom of teeny tiny rat poos.

And that's not the only account of stress we've had these past two weeks. Tomorrow is the start of the three day science exhibition at Devnar School for the Blind, and the atmosphere feels similar to that of preparing for a wedding. Everywhere you look, people are erecting scaffolding, laying out candles for sale on tables, cooking food, hanging up posters, cleaning and covering any gaps or cracks visible to the naked eye. The kids are really excited and it's all anyone's been talking about for the past two weeks - amidst my moaning about the rats. It's a really lovely and fantastic atmosphere and I feel lucky to be a part of it. However, since last week, Elena and I have completed ten science projects, including an enormous 3D volcano, a polystyrene model of a market in Hyderabad, various posters on food and health and several (really crap) trees made out of cardboard. My hair is still raked with little bits of glue and our bedroom floor is covered in splodges of paint and bits of paper leaves that didn't quite stay stuck on. It came to the point where we would dread a teacher knocking on our door. 'M'am, one small favour for me please...' quickly turns into staying up until 2am trying to get the last piece of papier mache to stick onto your 3D model of a solar and lunar eclipse. The struggle is this: I am not an art teacher. I used to switch over the channel whenever Art Attack came on ITV and settled happily for Spongebob Squarepants on Nikelodeon instead. I have to suppress a giggle when I proudly hand over a project that looks like it's been made with my feet to a hopeful teacher, who looks confused as to why the shiny new teacher from the UK can't seem to even write in a straight line.What's more, all the orders for the science projects were made on the same day with a limited time frame, so Elena and I have spent a lot of nights staying up late, crying into piles of pipe cleaners and PVA glue, munching our way through slightly melted chocolate and listening to Fleetwood Mac to survive.

But we are, at the end of the day, happy to do it. All of the projects we made were done with 3D materials so the kids can touch and feel them at the science exhibition, and the looks on the teachers faces and the many thank yous and the praises (for mostly Elena's work, not mine) make it all worth it. And as we stand in our sari's tomorrow, welcoming guests to the exhibition, I will fondly look over at the cardboard trees for a garden project that I spent many nights painstakingly putting together, and will simply have to laugh when it inevitably falls over.

It's not all doom and gloom here in India though - in fact, even during the rats and science drama, we've had many happy and funny moments, from giggling and laughing our way through Bollywood dancing with our 10th class boys, to going out for food with our LVP girls and getting to visit their awesome project and where they work, and in return showing them around Devnar the next day, to discovering an awesome noodle place just down the road, lots and lots and lots of cuddles with our favourite students, spending blissful mornings sat with my LKG class colouring in and, to top it all off, a really fantastic atmosphere at the school, as there have been lots of yummy food donations and functions this week.

Sorry for being so quiet on here - travelling and settling in caught up with me, but Devnar is now officially home, and I can safely say, even when a rat runs across my feet when I'm trying to go to the loo, that I am happy here. Even though WiFi is now limited here, I am determined to keep this blog regular with updates.

Until next time,

L x (and the rats) 

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

India Week 3 - No spice please, we're British

Dear all,

They say if you can do three weeks in India you can do it for life.

Last Sunday evening we were caught up in more incredible Ganesh celebrations as Padma told us to accompany the students to a dance and singing 'festival'. Driving through India at night time was incredible and something we haven't done yet - the bright lights of Hyderabad city centre were blinding and it almost felt as if we were in an Indian New York City, if you managed to look past the cows and rickshaws. It was really nice to be a part of the celebrations and see the students perform again - I'm very fortunate to work in a school with such a talented and passionate group of young people. At the end of the night, the bus had to take everyone back in two loads, and Elena and I were left with a group of male students and teachers and were the only two girls. It felt a little strange initially after learning all about India's standards and perception on genders mixing, but we sat with a guitar and taught them songs and sang and laughed while we waited for the bus to come back and after a while it felt really natural and nothing to worry about.

This week I tried as much as possible to throw my self into the role of teaching with my new positive attitude and slightly lighter feeling in my stomach. I really enjoyed teaching LKG this week. Teaching small children aged 3-5 can be difficult anyway, as you have to try your hardest to make it fun and constantly hold their attention, but when they are both blind and speak very little English, it's even more of a challenge. Elena and I give them baskets of toys to play with - building blocks, beads and necklaces, puzzles etc - and prepare them for their exam next week, asking them questions like 'Put ten beads on the string for five marks' and 'Put the circles in size order for five marks' etc. We also have a basket of animal toys, and get them to feel the animal and their marks to identify it and then learn the name. I had a breakthrough when one of the littlest boys, Shridha, came up to me and proudly shoved a toy donkey in my face and uttered 'DONKEY' with a big smile on his face. One small step for man, one giant leap for Miss Lottie Atkin. It may not seem like a big deal, but the fact that he remembered the marks of the toy donkey through feeling it and remembered this new, unknown English word filled me with pride. I almost cried as I showered him with praise, which got me a weird look and a 'Lottie m'am teacher, cow?' My new approach to not getting stressed in the classroom and learning to relax is really working too. I've decided that every lesson is not going to go according to the plan I lovingly slaved over the night before, and when all else fails, singing is your best option. The children love hearing songs and chants and stories, and singing really simple stuff with them like 'You Are My Sunshine' and 'The Wheels on the Bus' is really effective and they seem to really enjoy it.


Hanging out in the girls dorm after school. They love to paint our nails and sing with us!

So even when your lesson on adjectives doesn't quite go the way you thought it would, whack out an old nursery rhyme and everyone's happy.

Life at Devnar was super exciting and jam packed this week. On Friday we celebrated the end of Ganesh and were allowed to borrow Padma's beautiful sari's and jewellery to dress up in. I honestly felt like such a little princess, though I don't think I'd be able to wear one everyday. I have a lot of respect for the female members of staff at Devnar and the women of India who cook, clean, haul big heavy objects about, pick up children and run up and down the stairs in beautiful heavy sari's when I can barely manage to walk to the shops without falling over. The day involved ceremonies and a massive dance party in the middle of the school courtyard with drums and music and a lot of excitement. The boys asked Elena and I to join in, which quite frankly, did not take a lot of persuasion on my behalf. It was an incredible feeling to be dancing with everyone, in the rain as well, to the loud music and hearing all the laughter and shouting around me. I genuinely for a second felt like I was in a scene of a Bollywood movie and enjoyed every single moment of it. Then we watched a group of students picked up the Ganesh statue and moved it out into the streets, where the celebrations continued deep into the night.




Ganesh festivities at Devnar

Saturday was a half day and Elena and I took our very first solo adventure into Hyderabad. We got in a rickshaw all by ourselves and ventured to the big post office down the road to get envelopes, then went to the big fancy supermarket to do our first big food shop. I'd like to think India has totally turned me into a responsible adult - we're buying toilet paper, cleaning products, mineral water and fruit (we'll ignore the jar of Nutella that costs way too much in the basket as well), I'm organising when to hand wash my clothes every other day and, most recently, we cleaned up a rotten watermelon from the fridge in our room and cleaned the whole thing from top to toe with bleach. We were SO proud of ourselves. We spent the rest of the day cleaning and relaxing - we're truly starting to get into a routine with things. On Sunday we were requested to wake up at 5am to accompany Dr Goud, the founder chairman of the school, on a trip to a medical camp in a rural Indian village. We were hurried into the boot of a TOYOTA (there Elena) with people we didn't know, and made Nutella sandwiches and ate boiled eggs that Padma had lovingly made for us as we drove through what felt like scenes from the jungle books. Once we arrived, we were treated to a second breakfast at the house of the doctors we were visiting, and then taken to the medical camp. It was insane - it was jam packed with thousands and thousands of people, all from rural and impoverished backgrounds, all queueing up to see the doctors that had driven from Hyderabad to help out. As we have no medical experience it was hard to actually assist with the check ups, but we kept all the hundreds of children entertained and ended up having a full fledged meet and greet session with the people from the village. Seriously - we had queues and queues of people asking to have their photo taken with us, which was so surreal. After an afternoon of meeting the people of the village, having random babies thrown onto your lap and taking photos with everyone, we were driven to a bungalow at the side of the road and given spicy egg and spicy mutton and roti for lunch. The spice left a tingling sensation on our lips but we felt too rude to refuse, so we powered through. We're still getting odd looks from members of staff or people in restaurants when we ask for only a little bit food, and is it very spicy? If so, we can't eat it I'm afraid. This was definitely one of the most surreal experiences we've had so far - totally random but so much fun. Dr Goud then, very kindly, took us on a boat ride across a beautiful river about 1km down the road from the bungalow (in what can only be described as a washing up bowl made out of bamboo sticks, yet it fit about 20 of us in it) and to the temples where we were blessed (I think. It's very hard to know what goes on when you don't speak the same language, but I had rice thrown at me and drank some tea, which was nice). I sat in the boot of the car again on the way home feeling very full, very blessed and very happy with my new Indian life as I watched the insanity and bright lights whiz past me.


Feeling like celebrities!



Children at the medical camp.



Our mode of transport...


...and the exact moment we realised what we were getting ourselves into!

India, I've discovered, is like one big party (when we're not working). Everyday I can always hear some form of drumming in the distance, a random firework going off at night and people are always throwing rice at you and rubbing red paint onto your forehead. Everything you've heard about India is true - the colours, the smells, the people, the laughter and the constant positivity in the air. Even the poorest people you come across have a warmth that you can't help but notice. India is also beautiful. Even when you're making your way down a street covered in rubbish, pot holes and stray dogs walking around, there's still a certain charm and charisma that comes from the friendly local shop keepers waving at you and children running around your legs asking your name.



This week has definitely been a good week, and as El and I sat down for dinner last night - egg rice as we're still only allowed plain food - I said that Devnar was finally starting to feel like home. Everything is becoming familiar - the trips to the market in the morning to buy our fruit for breakfast, sitting outside in the evenings reading our books and playing with the kids, hand washing our clothes and putting them out to dry in the classroom next door. This week we're teaching the kids the words to 'Happy', complete with a dance and everything, after school so that they can perform at the World Sight Walk this Sunday. I knew as soon as I'd settle into a routine I would start to feel much happier here - and I am.

Baby steps, eh?

L x

Sunday, September 20, 2015

India Week 2 - A little bit better

Dear all,

El and I started our week of positivity bed bound with a joint case of an icky Indian stomach bug.

After my last post, I went and sat outside in the sunshine watching the boys play cricket and contemplating my new Indian life. Watching the students play cricket here is amazing - they use a ball with a bell in it so they can hear it and play flawlessly without any problems at all. Despite not having eaten a full meal since the night before and feeling a bit ill, I was starting to feel a little bit better about my current situation. Poor El was starting to feel rubbish and slept most of that Sunday while I tutored one of the girls with her physics homework. She doesn't need to know I cried my way through GCSE science, and I seemed to manage okay.

On Monday we dragged our sick bodies out of bed to teach the LKG class at 11:30am, only to return back to bed straight after and sleep most of the day. By the time the evening came, Padma insisted she took us to the doctor down the road. In typical Indian fashion we were told we were going to leave at 6pm and ended up setting off at about 8pm. Up until then I had been feeling okay, a little bit tired perhaps, but the lack of solid food since Saturday night was catching up with me and I suddenly felt very bad indeed. The doctor's was a very surreal experience - he sat and examined Elena for forty minutes while I had a lie down on his little bed, and then came over to me, decided we were near enough suffering from the same problem and sent us in a rickshaw to the shop down the road for our first dose of Indian medication, fluids and cornflakes. A trip in a rickshaw at night when you're suffering from your first Indian stomach bug was not the one. When you're feeling ill, all you want is your mum to come in and give you a cuddle and feed you your medicine and look after you, not hang out outside a shop at night time trying to get your medication and being stared at. As I struggled back tears at the thought of being desperately homesick, Padma came and gave me a cuddle and said 'Don't cry, I am here', which just made me sob even more. The adult inside of me told me to pull my self together and to laugh at the situation.

Which we did, eventually.

On Tuesday we were excused from lessons and instructed to strict bed rest as we had to be well enough for our appointment at the Indian police station for residency permission on Wednesday morning. El and I spent the day lolling about, moaning about the heat, moaning about our bodies and just moaning in general. We had to make our selves look vaguely presentable to go to the doctor's again in the evening, who seemed pleased with our progress and laughed his head off when I nearly fell off the little bed at a light exploding in his office from a power cut. He thought my heart racing at a million miles an hour was adding to my illness, and sent me back home to bed. Wednesday morning marked four days without having eaten anything but two bananas and an apple, so getting in a rickshaw to the Indian police station was a struggle. It was like applying for my VISA all over again - close to tears and exhausted, we were there for nearly three hours before we were given our residency permission. Cheering with joy, we returned back to the school and got ready for hopefully our final doctor's visit. He seemed pleased with how we were doing and I felt pleased with how I was feeling, despite having little to no food in my body. It was time to start feeling a little bit better.


The doctor's

Thursday was the start of Ganesh festival and Elena and I got to wear our sari's for the first time. The school was excused from lessons, and El and I sat and watched as we saw the school prepare for the celebrations. An enormous statue of Ganesh was erected on the stage area and decorated with flowers and fruit and lights. The school gathered for the day service, which was taken by the director of the school, his wife and Padma. I'm not sure what was said as it was all in Telugu, but it was beautiful, and included candles, scents, throwing rice at Ganesh and praying to the statue. There was a lot of special yummy food coming from the canteen, and I finally managed to break my five day non voluntary fast and eat a little something! There was another service in the evening too, which was beautiful and held at candle light. The school was in high spirits and everyone seemed really happy and full of life, which was wonderful to be a part of.


The statue of Ganesh


El and I lookin' fly

I had a full day of teaching on Friday and Saturday. Next to LKG I taught three older classes this week, and taught them all about my life in England and my friends and family back home. I feel so proud when the students come up to me and say 'Lottie M'am, your mother's name is Stephanie, no?' or 'Lottie M'am, you live in castle, no?'. Teaching them about Warwick Castle was harder than I anticipated - when I show the children who can partially see a photo they think it is my home, not my job! I wish.

Yesterday afternoon we were ready to make our way downstairs when it turned out one of the students had locked us in the room from the outside. We spent a good half an hour screaming out the window (when I say we, I mean Elena did while I fell about laughing and filmed her), and eventually resorted to throwing notes attached to Oreos out of the window to gain people's attention. It worked, and we were eventually rescued by a confused looking student who opened our door as if nothing had happened. Downstairs, everyone laughed at our red faces and anger, but we soon managed to laugh it off and forget about it when we were caught up in more Ganesh celebrations.

Out in the streets of Mayuri Marg there were drums, people dancing in the street, huge lit up Ganesh statues the size of small houses and people serving food and holding dance performances. Left, right and centre there were people asking us to dance, inviting us in for food, bright lights twinkling above our heads and loud drums pounding in our ears. We met a man who we'd met previously in the town last week, who serves free food and water every year at Ganesh celebrations for the children of our school and to the public in this massive empty multi storey car park, and has been doing so for twenty years. He insisted on inviting us in to eat, but as we were still under strict instructions to avoid spicy food and already ate at home, we decided we'd help out instead. There was a continuous line of students and staff and members of the public snaking it's way down through the car park, with Elena and I traipsing up and down it with buckets of food shouting 'Samba? Pompou?' to everyone and serving them. It was definitely more fun being able to help out and give something back than to be a guest, but we promised the man who runs it that we'd return on Monday to eat there. I arrived home with a ringing in my ear, my feet covered in dirt, my body covered in mosquito bites and glitter in my hair. I realised I was filthy and I also realised I didn't care. Was my new Indian life finally catching up with me? I felt the happiest I've been so far this trip, and El and I stayed up late listening to our happy play list and chatting about the day.

I don't want to rush into it things, but it's so good to feel happy and good to feel like I'm settling in, but with so long left of my trip I don't want to come to a set conclusion just yet, in case the obstacle of home sickness and adjusting to India comes back again. After all, it's only been two weeks, and I'm still finding it difficult and I'm still learning, and I think I will have moments like this all year. Moments like accidentally bringing national shame upon the school* by throwing the rice at Ganesh with my left hand, moments of losing my temper with my students and having them fall about laughing. I've been having consistent, vivid dreams of life back in England and wake up in the morning thinking I'm in my own bed and I'll be able to pop downstairs to my dogs and my family and eat toast in the kitchen. But I'm not, and it quickly dawns on my when I wake up in the morning.

*This probably didn't happen, but I definitely felt like it did at the time.

But you quickly learn to pull on your snazzy teaching tunic and massive balloon sized trousers and head down stairs and get on with your new Indian life. Elena and I have started taking walks after school around Mayuri Marg with an ice cream from the corner shop and go out and explore the colours, diversity and chaos that lies right on our doorstep. Freedom, or lack of it, is definitely the hardest part to adjust to so far - I'm used to being able to go wherever I want whenever I want in England, be it driving my self or hopping on a train, but here we have to wait and be supervised to go anywhere outside the immediate surroundings. I know it's for a good reason - India is, to quote from my friend Tabitha, 'scary as shit' and it's going to take a lot of getting used to.

It's definitely been a better week. Being caught up in Ganesh festival and constantly being surrounded by music, dance, high spirits and yummy food amidst starting to teach and settling into the madness definitely helps, and I'm having a better day every day. Elena and I have almost finalised our travel arrangements for October which I'm so excited about. Counting down helps - it's only a few weeks until our October holiday, after that a couple of months until Christmas, after that a few months until our summer travels and then two months until we come home. I don't want to spend my time counting down, but it helps in the initial beginning stage when you're feeling a little bit crappy.

Stay tuned I guess!

L x

ps. Everyone has, very kindly, been offering if there's anything they can send El and I. I'm mostly craving a big ol' bowl of cheesy pasta which you unfortunately cannot post, but if anyone wants to send some Nutella, M&M's and ear plugs our way then hit a gal up!

Sunday, September 13, 2015

India Week 1 - Everyone smiles in the same language

Dear all,

Today is Sunday the 13th of September which means I've officially completed my first week in India.

I will be the absolute first to admit that this initial week has been a struggle, and that the next couple of weeks will also be a struggle. Whenever I used to tell people that I was moving to India for a year to work in a school for blind children, they'd look at me with shock or slight apprehension and go 'Gosh, you're so brave!', and I'd shrug it off, thinking that what I was about to do was no big deal. But now I realise that they're right - what I'm doing is brave and it's now occurred to me that I have to become a stronger person than I am to cope with the obstacles I've faced this week. I can, in no way, make a judgement or conclusion of India after only being here a week, and I don't think I'll be able to at the end of the year either.

It really didn't hit me how much I was going to struggle with homesickness and settling in this first week. My mum and my sister dropped me off at Heathrow airport on Friday the 4th, and I was absolutely ready to go, bright pink suitcase in hand and adventure rucksack all packed on my back. As soon as I saw the rest of the India gang sitting on the floor outside Caffe Nero, I knew I was ready, hugged my mum and my sister goodbye and sat down to join in with all the excitement. Checking in? Easy. Security? No problem. Boarding the plane? So much fun. Plane journey it's self? Slept the whole way. Before take off, I read a card that my sister wrote me that said all sorts of lovely and emotional things, and for the first time in the journey I've been planning this, I had a seed of doubt in my stomach. Before I had time to even think about it, the plane sped its way down the runway and all of a sudden I saw the beautiful lights over a London night and I knew, I knew that it was going to be okay.

We landed in Mumbai the next morning. With swollen feet and a puffy face, we were greeted by an intense wall of heat and a complicated flight transfer system, but eventually we were all shoved together on the next plane to Hyderabad, where we were met by our deputy country rep, Abhilash, who bought us all cokes and water and bundled us onto a bus to Hyderabad city centre. Our initial views of India were everything we thought it was going to be - goats in the road, rickshaws dodging in and out of the traffic, six people crammed onto one small motorbike, cars beeping their horns, and an impressive monsoon that made the streets flood. We arrived at a guest house where we were to stay for two nights. Exhausted, jet lagged and in need of a shower, we collapsed in our air conditioned rooms and ate Indian pizza before getting a well deserved twelve hour snooze. The following day we had an all day country orientation with Bharavi, our country host, and got our first taste of spicy Indian cooking. It was so much fun staying in the guest house all together - we even managed to bribe the receptionist for the WiFi password and stayed up late listening to Bonnie Tyler and planning our summer travels. The following morning, my partner Elena and I were put in our first Indian taxi and were driven to Devnar Foundation for the Blind. We got our second glimpse of Indian traffic jams and Hyderabad - a beautiful, diverse and busy city absolutely full to the brim of life, colours, smells and people.


Hyderabad - India

Arriving at Devnar was more overwhelming than I anticipated it to be. When we stepped out the car, we were almost immediately greeted by an army of small children, pulling on our hands and feeling us over where, shouting 'Madam, madam, what is your good name?' and 'Madam, madam, where are you from?'. We met Padma, who is our Indian mummy for the year and our go-to-gal - she's brilliant, always feeding us chocolate and biscuits and making sure we have everything we need. We also met the director of the school and spent the day getting to know our new school and all the staff and pupils. We have a room with two beds, a desk and our own bathroom, with a water supply that cuts out randomly throughout the day (but will always work in the morning for our showers, we've discovered) and only supplies cold water. You'd think that would be nice in the Indian heat, but actually, it's really cold here at the moment! We've decorated our room with photos and fairy lights and unpacked everything to make it feel more like our 'home from home.'


Our home from home

I hadn't anticipated to find it so difficult to settle in this week. I think I had it in my mind that I'd step straight off the plane, head to Devnar, teach my first class and be amazing at it and immediately feel like I was at home. I hadn't taken into consideration that I was going to be teaching blind students who don't speak English. Everywhere we go we are greeted by students feeling our hands and feeling us to work out who were are, then asking a million questions. It's absolutely beautiful to see how much passion and enthusiasm the children have - for learning English, for overcoming the obstacle of being blind and for life. They're extremely intelligent - most can speak Telugu, English and read Braille as well. They walk with their arms around each other to get around, and can easily get from A to B without a problem, shouting 'SIDE' if there's an obstacle. It will never fail to amaze me or surprise me how they differentiate El and I through touch. It's difficult to communicate with the staff or children that don't speak English, but if I've learn anything this week it's that a smile goes a long, long way in tricky situations. We haven't taught many lessons this week, only a few, which mainly consists of LKG (lower kinder garden) who are little rascals but so sweet - we basically just sit and sing songs with them and play with toys, but it's hard to get their attention when we try and teach them something new. I taught one older class all about my home and England, and had to try hard not to well up during the lesson!

I feel so sorry for Elena, who has had to put up with me crying nearly every night this week. Though Devnar is beautiful and the staff are amazing and welcoming, it is a lot to take in in the first week, and on the first night, when we went to sleep in our new home, I suddenly found my self lying awake in the dark and realised that a year, right now, seems like a very, very long time. If I was popping home in a month or two I'd feel completely fine about my current situation - hey, I've only been gone for a week! But the fact that I'm not going to see my family, my friends or the 'normality' that is my life back in England for a year cripples me with homesickness and sadness. I know that in a few weeks I will feel completely settled here and the year will fly by, but right now I'll be honest and admit it's tough. Elena is definitely finding it easier than me - she has the energy and patience to constantly spend time with the children and be adventurous with the food while I wallow in despair in our room and pick at the rice. There's going to be a lot to get used to - teaching, eating with our right hand, looking after ourselves and emerging our self into the Indian culture. I cannot expect everything to happen in the first week - we are here for a year and this is going to take time.

This is, by no means, a negative outlook of India and my project. It's honesty.

With all that said, I cheered up a little bit yesterday when we got to go and visit the shops down the road for the first time. As we are quite new and Padma is very protective over us, we haven't really been able to leave much, so our outing to the shops was definitely exciting. We got our first sari's for Ganesh festival and a few tunics and trousers to teach in. We also went to the local shop and bought a mop and cleaning products, which to Elena's amusement I am very excited about, as I can finally tackle the grime that has already built up after a week in our bathroom. This morning we were told to wake up at 5am to accompany the children on a school trip to a place called 'HiTech City', which turned out to be this awesome outdoor event in the middle of a blocked off motorway. It involved a lot of dancing, singing, music, and lots of local charities and organisations campaigning for Eco friendly solutions and less pollution, which was awesome to see. The kids from our school performed a dance and sang and played cricked and we raised awareness about the school and what they do. It definitely perked me up a bit - watching a mass crowd of people dance at sunrise was definitely the sort of India I had in mind. 


My first sari!


Teaching unfirom

Now back at Devnar, El and I are both taking a day of rest as we have both got our first case of an 'icky Indian stomach and are currently bed bound. Tomorrow is a new day and a new week and I'm trying my absolute hardest to be really positive about it. It's so tempting to sit and countdown the days until I get to go home, but I know that when that day eventually rolls around I'll regret having done so. I think my biggest fear is that life is going to go on without me at home - which of course it will, it's completely natural - but that doesn't stop me being scared of people forgetting me or relationships changing or losing touch with people.

Still, it's all part of the adventure isn't it? Elena said to me the other day that you either need to think big or you need to think small. Thinking big is 'Wow. I'm in India, the country I've wanted to be in since I was a little girl, doing something I've wanted to do for a long time. Isn't this amazing?'. Thinking small is 'Wow, look at that mosquito bite. I should probably do something about that.' It's when you think in the middle of the two that the seeds of doubt start to grow. I think my problem is that I'm thinking too much - I just need to relax and fully immerse my self into my new Indian life. My England life will be there ready and waiting when I get back and I'm sure, to my surprise, that hardly anything will have changed.

Spilling all my feelings out into a blog post has definitely helped, so keep an eye out for regular updates! Tonight, El and I are skyping our country host to organise our October holiday, which may or may not involve staying in a tree house and riding elephants. Excited doesn't cover it!
Thank you for listening to my ramblings once again, and stay updated by liking 'Nomad gone Mad' on Facebook!

Love always,

L x


Friday, September 4, 2015

Short & Sweet - Goodbye

Dear all,

The suitcase is packed, my passport is ready, my goodbyes have been said and the leaving drinks have been heavily drunk.

It's time to take the first step of the journey I've been planning for two and half years and finally, finally go and live my dream. Today is the day I get on a plane this evening at 9:20pm and fly to Mumbai, then to Hyderabad, and start my life as a teacher for blind students in India.

I just want to take this opportunity to say a million thank you to everyone for their kind good luck messages, gifts, their donations, their endless love and continuous support. You know exactly who you are and I couldn't have done it without you.

I can't wait to update this blog and public platform with photos and videos and updates. I simply can't believe this is happening.

See you on the flip sideeeeeeeeee!

L x

p.s. Sorry this is such a short blog post - I'm currently lying on top of my suitcase and crying because IT WON'T CLOSE.

Monday, August 17, 2015

And frankly...

“If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.” 

Today marks the eighteen day countdown to India, and with the inevitable departure date of the 4th of September looming on the horizon, a certain little nomad is starting to feel a wee bit anxious.

While battling my way through Birmingham's rush hour traffic to reach the embassy before it closed to collect my VISA, I started to feel the familiar little fizzle at the pit of my stomach that constantly reminds me that this is really, really happening. It's exciting and it's amazing and I've worked so hard to get here, but equally, it's really bloody terrifying.

I've known at the back of my mind for the past two and a half years that I would always potentially be leaving home at nineteen to go and live in a foreign country, and equally, it's always been everything I've ever wanted - to travel the world as soon as I left school. But beneath the pink tinted fantasy of Instagram filtered photos of me lying on the beach and finding myself in a temple, the reality is is that I'm stepping out of my comfort zone and moving away from everything that I'm used to and feel safe and happy and comfortable in and throwing myself into, quite frankly, a stranger of country that I know absolutely nothing about.

So, with all that in mind, I have decided to be honest and write down all the things that I'm currently afraid and worried about. Some are serious and some are lighthearted, but I'm hoping that I can look back at this a year later and ask my self what on Earth I was so worried about.


Being so homesick that I have to come home.

Hating the overwhelming culture shock so much that I have to come home.

Something happening to my mum/dad/sister/dogs/immediate family/the nice postman/the lady that served me in Tesco the other day while I'm away.

Never finding out who killed Lucy Beale on EastEnders as the storyline will be dragged out until after I leave.

(Although, with a bit of luck, they'll drag it out for so long that I'll be able to find out just in time for when I get back home next year.)

Slipping out of routines that I so very much adore, such as treating my self to a Caffe Nero after work 'because I deserve it' a little too often.

(Well. I do deserve it. Don't I?)

Being used as a drug mule.

(This one probably has more to do with the fact I just watched Bridget Jones - The Edge of Reason. But this is a serious fear and one that my mother laughs at when I tell her about it. I just feel like I'm the sort of person who would gladly help an innocent looking old lady carry their bag through customs if they asked and, oh God, I don't want to spend weeks and weeks in a foreign prison singing 'Like A Virgin' with the other prisoners with only one phone call home.)

My body being unable to handle the sticky and humid heat and ending up as a big, sweaty, grumpy mess.

(This is inevitably going to happen so I've just got to suck it up and pack plenty of cooling mist.)

Being robbed, harassed or mugged.

Reacting badly to beggars, street dogs or street children.

Snakes/spiders/rats/bugs/anything with a million legs that moves.

(This one needs no explanation.)

And finally...

Accidentally getting married without realising it when someone presents me with a goat.

(I mean, it happened in a dream, but I can totally picture it happening in real life.)

I feel like a slight weight has been lifted off my shoulders now I have all of this down on electronic paper, and, in hindsight, I'm 93.4% certain that I don't need to worry about any of these things and that I'll return home next year absolutely desperate to return, if anything. I know I need to fly the nest at some point, and if there's anyway to do it, it's doing it like this. All I've ever wanted to do with my life was to travel the world and I am truly, truly blessed to be able to say that in eighteen days I am moving to India for a year, so for now, I need to shove my worries aside and focus on the incredible adventures I'm about to have.

With that being said, the next few weeks are going to be tough and emotional - saying goodbye to people for the last time for a year, getting everything ready and going to places I've visited nearly everyday for the past four years for the last time. I've already turned into a soggy blubbing mess when my best friend and I talk about the year to come or when someone goes 'Gosh, it's soon, isn't it?!' - but don't be fooled, I am, of course, so excited. The adult in me is ready for adventure and about to burst with excitement, but the child in me wants to stay at home with everything that's comforting to her.

Maybe I'll let them battle it out.

Thank you for reading this rambling mess,

L x

ps. I created a public platform where I will be posting all of my videos, blog posts and pictures during my time in India. It's called Nomad Gone Mad on Facebook and you can check it out here.






Thursday, August 6, 2015

Training - A Reflection

Dear all,

It's coming up to a nearly a month since my training for India on the Isle of Coll, a week jam packed with every single piece of information I could possibly need, trecking up sand dunes to watch the sunset, evenings on the beach with loved ones, meeting my partner for the very first time, tears and a whole lotta' ceilidh dancing. Thus, it's also coming up to a month since I last updated you (this whole posting regularly thing is going super well, as you can see). Since then, I have completed my fundraising (finally!) and had my final round of jabs, and as I'm writing this in a Caffe Nero in Birmingham, I'm currently waiting to go and have my VISA processed.

My training week was a whirlwind of emotions which left me feeling very tearful, scared and extremely excited. Some of the sessions left me longing for the life I'm finally going to live in a months time, and some of them left me feeling like 'nope, I'm not going, cancel my plane ticket and get me back home to the comfort of my warm bed in a country I actually know.' (This was mainly after the 'physical health' power point presentation which showed us how to avoid getting ring worm in our feet. Yum.)

My dad and I made our way up to Scotland on Sunday the 12th of July, a journey which mainly consisted of stopping at five Starbucks along the way and driving my dad crazy whilst trying to do my best Scottish impression (singing the Proclaimers and reading out every road sign in a crap Scottish accent). Once we arrived in the beautiful town of Oban, we quickly realised that it was roughly twenty degrees colder in the far, far North of Scotland then it was in the West Midlands. Bracing the cold, we dumped our bags in a scary hotel which seemed to resemble Faulty Towers with 70's decor (it also had no shower, so that's good) and forced our way through the gale winds to a restaurant we visited the year before when I came to the Isle of Coll for my selection course.


Dinner with a view - Oban

I woke up the next morning with butterflies in my stomach knowing that in just a few hours I was going to meet the girl I was going to spend a year with. As Project Trust put it, the partnership is essentially like an arranged marriage. Project Trust choose you and your partner specifically for your placement and you don't get to meet until training. After the three hour ferry journey we touched down on the Isle of Coll and it was pretty much run from the word 'go'. We were suddenly thrown into an intense four days of jam packed schedules, sessions and a lot of paper work to do. Though it was sometimes stressful, it was wonderful to learn so much about my project and the country I'll be living in for a year. Every single question I had was answered, and I met the incredible people I'm going to be living with for a year, including my partner, Elena. She was staying across the hall from my dorm and I nervously approached her asking if she was going to be teaching at Devnar, scared that my happy and bubbly and downright over excited personality would intimidate her or scare her off. To my relief we clicked straight away and spent the week getting to know each other, and really hit it off. I'm so, so pleased Project Trust have placed me with such a fantastic girl, someone who I know will be a real friend and someone to rely on amidst the madness of our year in India.


Zoe and I. We climbed to the top of a scary hill to watch the sunset. And to get signal.


Lesson planning going well...


Me, Zoe and the India boys - Callum and Alex. They're the only two boys coming to India with us - brave or stupid?


Evening beach vibes - Elena's photo


Elena and I.


My India family, 2015/2016


One distinctive moment that stands out to me from training was when we went to watch the sunset one evening. I remember sitting on the top of the sand dune, surrounded by all the amazing people I had met that week, and the only thing that came into my head was - 'I just can't believe that this is my life.' There I was, nineteen years old, completely and utterly happy with life, watching the sunset with people I love and about to move to India for a year. I never, ever want to forget how I felt in that moment - I'll carry it with me through all the adventures I'm about to have.

On the way home, Dad and I played 'All in White' by The Vaccines in the car, as it was exactly a year ago when I was on my way home from the selection course listening to the exact same song, driving through the Scottish country side and I just knew something extraordinary was about to happen.

A year later and I was right.

All in all, training was a huge success and I arrived home feeling happy and content and so so ready for what's about to come. Now, with nearly everything sorted, all there's left for my to do is get on the plane and actually go.

Who knew, eh?

Stay happy,

L x


'A journey of a thousands miles must begin with a single step.'

Isle of Coll, July 2015.