Big changes for all the family.

So, I am now officially part of a family of nomads. On 21^st September my parents took the final step towards being free from the shackles of responsibility by flying out to their new home in The Gambia. This plan is one that had been brewing since before I can remember, and even then I wasn't really aware of it until fairly recently. I've always realised, though not always consciously, that they haven’t been completely happy living ‘ordinary’ lives with jobs, responsibilities and a mortgage etc. So when their biggest (though obviously most delightful) responsibility, me, decided to move to India, they saw their opportunity to get out. After countless Skype meetings and plans ‘a’ through ‘q’ being conjured up and tossed aside, my parents finally had everything set into place. They booked their flights roughly a month after mine which, for me, meant that I managed to avoid almost all of the hassle of boxing up our belongings and selling the house! To find out more about how they’re coping in The Gambia and the work that they’re doing, visit their blog at http://dunlopmarshallwyce.wordpress.com/

Back to school

So, I've been living in Delhi for over a month now and I'm happy to say it feels completely normal. After taking a couple of days to get back into the swing of things, I haven’t really thought twice about the fact that my 19-year-old self decided to uproot, and move 5000 miles away from the only home I remember living in. My parents definitely played a big part in my decision as, without them, there’s no way I would have the confidence to be here right now. They have always been very supportive of whatever I have chosen to do in my life and they were very keen for me to come out here and have the best opportunities I can. “Fuck it, just go. Why the hell not” I believe were my father’s words on the matter. So here I am. Surrounded by great friends, with a really interesting job, in a country that never stops amazing and surprising me. What more could a girl ask for?

One thing I’d been really looking forward to ever since I started planning my return to Delhi, was visiting the school I worked at last time I was here. I couldn't shift the strange feeling in the back of my mind that the kids would have forgotten all about me by now. I needn't have worried. Not only did they remember me (I stepped in the gates and was swarmed with kids screaming “Jess didi! Jess didi!”), but they also managed to remember all the little things they used to wind me up about; mainly my very poor Hindi. I had organised to visit at the same time as the Teach for India fellow who led my volunteer project last time I was here, and who has taught me so much and played a massive role in my decision to come back to India (he is somewhat of a mentor but I'm yet to find a way of explaining this without sounding unbelievably lame!). By the time we had both arrived, the kids were well and truly bouncing off the walls and deep down I was too, though I had to pretend to be a grown up (until break time at least). After both observing and helping out in the lessons, I felt right back at home and it didn't half tug on my heartstrings when the kids asked if I would be coming back the following day. It was really great to visit the school and to see all the kids again and though it is no longer ‘my school’, it will always hold a place in my heart and feel a little bit like home.