From The Big Field Trip – India, December, 2009

When I walk down the streets of India, I see a lot of roadside businesses. On the sidewalks next to traffic-filled streets people are pressing sarees with big irons full of charcoal, and others are sewing mattresses. People sell interesting things: papaya and carrots from wooden push-carts, incense that smells like roses, cotton socks, buffalo leather journals with hand-made flower paper, and sparkling, polished jewelry. Old men make and fix shoes; sheets of brown leather and black gooey shoe polish lay in front of them on blankets. A man in a white shirt sits on a chair while the barber cuts his hair with shiny scissors that reflect the sun. Black hair falls to the pavement.

From The Big Field Trip – India, December, 2009

In India, animals share the streets with people. Men in turbans kick smelly dogs, buffalos wander the streets with their calves, women in sarees feed leftover lentils and rice to street dogs, and carrots and chapatti to the holy cows. Elephants with gray, wrinkly skin take their time walking down the streets, camels pull carts full of cow dung, holy cows roam the streets, peddlers whack the holy cows to get away from their fruit stand, and dogs steal food. I’ve only seen 3 pet dogs the entire time I have been in India (2½ months). The rest of the dogs are stray. A toddler throws a stone at a dog. The dog barks and the child runs away.

From The Big Field Trip – India, December, 2009

People in India wear colorful clothes and shiny jewelry, bindis, sarees, anklets, and bangles. Men wear turbans, or Muslim prayer caps. Sarees are decorative cloth that married women wrap around themselves. My mom bought a beautiful rusty-red saree. Last night was the first time she has ever worn it. She hired a tailor to sew a petticoat and blouse to wear under it. Women wear beautiful sarees even when they are shaping cow dung or spreading tar on the streets. Women also put red paint where their hair parts to show they are married. They also wear bindis, a dot of red or pink or a dot of jewelry, on their forehead. In the countryside, many women wear huge nose rings attached to their earring by a golden chain. Some men wear turbans. Turbans are long strips of cloth that men wind around their heads. Some are 9 meters long – that’s about 30 feet! Our driver, Bupinder Sing, wore a brown turban one day, a purple turban the next day, and a pink turban the day after that. When I walk down the streets of India, it reminds me of walking through a butterfly garden with splashes of color all around.

From The Big Field Trip – India, December, 2009

There are lots of dirty and smelly things on the streets of India; you’ve got to watch out where you step. There are a lot of trash-covered streets with dogs, cows, and beggars eating out of the trash or looking for something valuable. People throw their litter on the street. Shop owners are always sweeping in front of their shops with brooms made of dried grass that look like dog tails. The trash sometimes gets picked up, but is often swept into a pile and burned, even the plastic. The smell makes me feel sick. There are also a lot of open sewers full of milky-white water. Once I stepped in the sewer, and I had to take a shower. I had to shower my shoes too. There is cow dung everywhere on the streets. It’s good for many Indian people because they pick it up off the streets, shape it into discs, dry it, and burn it with firewood in a small oven for cooking. It’s bad for me because I step in it so often, even though Indian people say that it is good luck.

From The Big Field Trip – India, January, 2010

Most of the streets are full of traffic. The engines roar and horns beep. Gray smoke comes out of tailpipes. People cover their faces with shirts, sarees, or handkerchiefs. In India there are a lot of auto rickshaws. They are called took-tooks because they make the sound “took-took”. Took-tooks have three wheels. The larger public took-tooks can seat seven passengers comfortably, or twenty-two with people shoved in, sitting on laps, sitting on the floor, and hanging off the sides. On the city busses I have seen people sitting with the luggage on the roof. Took-tooks, busses, cars, and trucks are zooming through the streets, dodging cows. People dodge the vehicles. Watch-out, you may get hit! Vehicles never stop for people – only for cows. If you have to cross a busy street, I suggest that you have an Indian person or a holy cow cross with you.

From The Big Field Trip – India, December, 2009

In India the poorest people are worse off than poor people in the USA, especially the children. Many poor kids have no homes and some are so dirty that they are sick all the time. Poor children don’t grow as tall as healthy children because they don’t eat enough nutritious food. Some also use drugs like alcohol and white-out to make them feel better. This also keeps them from growing tall and healthy. Many kids have to work to earn money for their families. Poor children work in the fields, sweep the streets, look in the garbage for something valuable or food, work in factories, or beg for money. Sometimes the father is drunk so he uses all the money on alcohol. Some poor kids run away from home to escape poverty and make money for themselves.

From The Big Field Trip – India, December, 2009

On the streets of India I see a child with brown dust in his knotty, black hair. He is begging with a short old woman with gray hair, who puts her hand to her toothless mouth repeatedly to show that she needs money for food. A naked girl with wood chips in her hair stands in front of the tent where her family lives. The tent is on the sidewalk of a busy road; it is made of sheets of thick plastic and bamboo sticks. Beside the tent, a man carves a cricket bat to sell to passersby. A cricket field is full of boys playing cricket. A boy hurls a red ball into the dusty ground. The ball bounces. The batter hits the ball with a cricket bat. The boys tell their mothers that they go to school, but they play cricket instead. An old woman prays to an orange god at a shrine on the side of the street. Her hands are together and she is on her knees. She ignores the sounds of the street; her eyes are closed and she doesn’t stir. A small baby at her side sleeps in a torn blanket.

I’ve never been to another place like India. Just walking down any street in India makes my senses feel like they are going to burst. When I walk down the streets of India, I feel like home is half a world away.

From The Big Field Trip – Tunisia, March, 2009

Whirr! A man spins thread through a spool as we enter the building. Shec, Shec, Shec. Someone cuts cloth into clothing. Crash, crash, crash! A noise comes from upstairs. Clump, clump, clump. We walk upstairs. The smell of lambs wool and tobacco hangs in the air. Swish, a spool of yarn skates across a loom leaving some thread behind. Thump, the weaver pulls back part of the loom to make the thread and cloth one. Stomp. the weaver steps on one of four pedals with his bare feet. Ssshhhe, ssshhhe, ssshhhe, the weaver combs the finished cloth. Snip, snip, snip, scissors trim the rough edges of the cloth. The coals shine in a clay pot, orange shining out from the grey ash like the sun emerging on a sunny day. The coals heat a bronze pot of sweet, mint tea, rewarding the weaver.

From The Big Field Trip – Tunisia, March, 2009