Seven months later and I'm still kicking around this ancient subcontinent. Washed up by waves, caked in jungle, city smoked and railroad tossed, I've somehow settled and can't fathom leaving. Everyday images remain sourly romantic for me. Chipped blue wood doors filthy with soot hand prints. A fire burning next to a bicycle. Trucks lined up in their decked out glory. Excessive rickshaw tassels and the overwhelming smell of rosewater.
This semester I'm working with a folklore organization called BuDa where I get to interact with the three tribal communities of this Western Ghat shoreline, around Honnavar. My main project is collecting forgotten recipes, forest foods and cooking methods which are becoming obsolete. Meanwhile I help host student groups and run workshops that aim at connecting with nature and tribal roots.
My frequent vices and attempts not to burn include bathing in moonlite seawater, consuming copious amounts of candy-sweet bananas and strumming songs by the bonfire. I've been graced with the starry pretense of strong and inspiring women in the past months as we've weaved through forest, river & sea. Currently I fear loosing the wisdom and scenes I've gathered but hesitate recording these experiences, overly aware of hollowness that may find its way in the translation from sun to paper. Here's to me semi-recording the end of my year long journey in India.
This semester I'm working with a folklore organization called BuDa where I get to interact with the three tribal communities of this Western Ghat shoreline, around Honnavar. My main project is collecting forgotten recipes, forest foods and cooking methods which are becoming obsolete. Meanwhile I help host student groups and run workshops that aim at connecting with nature and tribal roots.
My frequent vices and attempts not to burn include bathing in moonlite seawater, consuming copious amounts of candy-sweet bananas and strumming songs by the bonfire. I've been graced with the starry pretense of strong and inspiring women in the past months as we've weaved through forest, river & sea. Currently I fear loosing the wisdom and scenes I've gathered but hesitate recording these experiences, overly aware of hollowness that may find its way in the translation from sun to paper. Here's to me semi-recording the end of my year long journey in India.