It has happened. The curse of Calcutta. I hear it happens to everyone, yet still, with fear and trembling I pleaded with all that is good and benevolent that it would not happen to me. Alas, my cries were unheard (perhaps divine retribution for nun-fighting?) So Gordon, thanks for the Imodium. Best birthday present ever. And the only reason I'm able to sit at this computer right now. So really, many many thanks. (Also, I'm hoping it means I will be able to go see Mama Mia with the Germans. I know, I know. But I love musicals. I can't help it!)

Fully Imodiumnized, I went to the Leprosy Center today. I'm glad I did. It was incredibly sobering, but also incredibly inspiring. The clinic was started in the 1950's basically as a group of people sitting under a Banyan tree. Mother Teresa petitioned for some land and was granted a bit of wasteland by the railroads. Later, in the 70's when they tried to expand, the railroad petitioned and they were refused. So one of the men, angry, took a group of the people with leprosy down to the railroad station and demanded, "So where do you want us?" The answer was of course, not here, so they were granted more land and now they have a fully self-sufficient center.

There are dozens of looms, and the people that can work sew their own clothes there. It was fascinating to watch - hundreds of threads on hundreds of spindles being woven into cloth. The sound was like rain falling.

They dye their own fabrics, have their own garden to grow their own food, bake their own bread, cook their own meals. There's a room where they make prosthetics for arms and legs. They make their own shoes out of a special rubber so that the feet affected by leprosy will be able to walk. If possible. They have a school for the kids (who sang us songs in four different languages). They have a rehab room with stationary bikes and massage oils. And a nursing room where some of the patients learn to treat and bandage each other's sores and ulcers. They operate completely independently of any volunteer help. Truly amazing.

The most difficult part was walking through the room of people who won't recover. Many of their eyes literally appear to be melting away. Imagine, not being able to close your eyes? Or to cry? Some have lost arms and limbs, as leprosy affects your nerves and your ability to feel. So while most of us will notice a cut or burn and tend to it, they won't, and as a result infection and ulcers occur regularly and result in loss of limbs. It felt a bit horrible marching past the people as if they were museum objects on display. But as the man hosting us said, this is the only change in daily monotony they have - visitors, that is - and they look forward to it eagerly. And so it seemed. Most people sat up and smiled and said a hundred "namastes" over and over. Beautiful and humbling.

And then the Imodium wore off. Sigh. So a day of books it is. And rain.

Outside there is music happening. Yesterday was a minor festival - I asked people what it was and they just kept saying "puja" which I believe literally means to give respect (and it's also the name of one of my students). From what I've gathered it's the holiday of factory workers. But not one seems to pay too much attention to it, and though there are cars decorated in marigolds driving up and down the street and shrines on the corners - every time I go outside to see what's happening I keep being told "it's over." So I go inside and hear music again, and when I come out "it's over" again. Maybe they're playing red light, green light with the tourists.

The big festivals are yet to come. October 1st is Gandhi's birthday, and also the last day of the Muslim Ramadan, I believe. Then, the biggest festival - which I can't remember the name of - is on the 4th of October and will run for many days. All over town people have constructed giant bamboo structures, and I hear they are making sculptures and statues that will be paraded down the street and placed in these structures.

In other random news. I met a girl from Ireland today and we talked excitedly for about an hour - it's so nice to meet fellow English speakers! I admittedly have been envious of the French, Japanese, German, and Spanish who seem to be here en mass. There are relatively no British, Irish, American, or Australians here - the latter of which is quite surprising because Australians are everywhere. Always. In hoards. Still, it's pretty great to be living with people from all over the world. I love it.

In more other random news, I've been meaning to tell you that the men around my area bathe on the street everyday. I don't know why I want to tell you - but I do. It was the first thing I noticed as I drove in to town early on my first morning. They all huddle around water pumps on the street corners and wearing only a waste clothe, soap themselves and bathe, in group, on the corner. (They also pee on the corners and everywhere else, but this is less interesting -as men seem to do this everywhere anyways. At least the drunk ones. Or so I've known a few.) I asked one girl where the women are and she told me that if they want to bathe they have to do it very early while it is still dark (it gets light here at around 5 -5:30 in the morning) and as a result, very seldom bathe unless they are on their period.

Very interesting. I suppose in many places, in many ways, it is a man's world, huh? And the wealthy's world as well.

Alright - here I go again. (Mama Mia!)