Reflections....

I've become an international babysitter. Last month my brother flew me from CT to Ohio to look after his kids and today I'm watching my cousins kids in the UK. Since, I'm all about travel and getting the 'insider' experience, I'm wondering if this is the way forward career-wise.

My cousins kid's are pretty cool. There's something about little kids with British accents that crack me up. Aged 7 and 4 with white blond hair and blue eyes, all proper and smart like they stepped right out of some turn-of-the-century English children's novel like Dicken's or Peter Pan. There's kind of a nostalgic fairytale feel with them - old school charm. I wake up in the morning to the eldest playing piano and go to bed after a family viewing of my pictures of India - all cuddled round on the sofa, the kids completely engrossed in my tales of the Taj Mahal, camels, elephants and monkeys.

At the same time, it's culture shock after India and some of the stuff I encountered, but didn't put in my blog. It's hard to reconcile and comprehend that both worlds exist at the same time. Driving to the airport in the early morning leaving India the sidewalks were home to sleeping dogs and people. I'd been out walking the night before and kept coming across piles of what I thought were discarded trash bags and burlap sacks in my path. Garbage is everywhere, so it's something you get accustomed to. Then, I'd see a hand sticking out from beneath the rags and realize with a shock I'm about to step on someone. Those that were lucky had beds tucked into alleys that were woven from rubber strips of tire and fashioned to a handmade frame crafted from recycled wood. The most haunting moment came when trying to exit a rickshaw. A woman with anremmaciated baby blocked out way out of the cart. The child was curled in a fetal position tucked against her breast sleeping. It's head was bald with a giant wound wrapping from ear to ear across the back of its head. It looked like it had been scalded by hot water or worse.

It was the afternoon after my visit to the non-profit where I'd been warned by the director about parents who harm their children intentionally to be able to beg more 'efficiently' from tourists. It wasn't the first time I'd heard this since telling people I'd be visiting India and, then of course, there's the scene from Slumdog Millionaire. (I'd heard an interview on NPR with the film's director, he had validated the validity of the scene and so did the women I'd met with earlier that day.) I was told explicitly not to encourage the practice by giving to anyone who approached me with an injured child. It seemed logical and obvious when I agreed, but how do you walk away when actually faced with it?

Co-existance can be a strange thing - leaving all that and boarding a flight back to England. (Did I mention the flight path took us right over Afghanistan? Isn't that restricted airspace or something? We flew directly over Kabul... Just how effective are those surface to air missile launchers?? I mean, really, is that the safest route home?? ) On the plane I was given a British paper to read - the headline story recapping two police detectives who share a job and watch each other's daughters on their off days. The government has deemed their arrangement illegeal for some reason I can't figure out, and put an end to it. Then this morning the call-in on BBC radio taps the outrage over postmen leaving "sorry you weren't in" notices on people's doors and not attempting to deliver packages when the residents were indeed home. Really? The difference of the two worlds has left me in a head spin. I think I've lost track of where I am....