A final cup of tea...

As we touched down at Heathrow just over a week ago Giles squeezed my knee and said, "babe, we're home". Bursting with excitement, we'd talked non-stop all the way about returning to friends, family, hot showers, a hair cut (which Giles is still resisting), roast dinners, a comfy bed, crisp white sheets, central heating, Cadbury's chocolate... things we'd been dreaming of for months.

It's great to be back, and Christmas with our families was as fun and overindulgent as we'd imagined. However, as I reflect from the comfort of a pocket-sprung mattress adorned with Egyptian cotton sheets and down duvet, the simple things we'd been dreaming of now feel like comparative luxuries.

The whole experience in India has been a real leveller; I now find myself questioning everything. For instance, who on earth who paid for the study that the BBC reported on last week revealing the positive correlation between families who sit down to enjoy meals together and the likelihood of the children consuming the recommended 5 a day? Surely this is the most basic form of common sense. There's no doubt that we live in a very different world, but have we actually got it right?

North India's fuss-free subsistence-style living might not be glamorous, but what they do have - and significantly provide for their children - are their most basic needs: love, nutrition and a close family bond. My teacher training highlighted the importance of these fundamentals, proved, obviously, by numerous (expensive) studies, and yet here in the developed world we compromise love and family time through our striving to run dual income homes to pay for 'essentials'.

Of course it's not this clear cut; many families here in the UK aren't lucky enough to have even one income, but look at the safety net that's there to catch them. Having no income in India renders you to the streets; a life so tough that we couldn't begin to imagine... even the badly disabled find themselves working, albeit begging. Imagine their faces if they saw what unemployment provides for families in this country... They wouldn't begin to comprehend that so much is available to those who do not or cannot work. This isn't a welfare rant, but all I ask is this: when we moan about being hard up, ask yourself whether you're missing an essential or a luxury.

An essential that we saw very few going without was food; abundant in our little corner of India! We almost had to rev ourselves up for the 3-times daily feed of rice and dal, mountains of which were generously loaded onto our plates. The staple diet in India is brilliantly healthy: pulses, rice, vegetables and the odd protein treat of eggs or sinewy meat. When we asked the kids about western-style treats such as burgers and chips, most had tried them and they all agreed that they tasted of very little. The low-fat spice infused curry was still their favourite, and we've subsequently discovered that the same is true for ourselves! Despite our fantasies of crispy sausages and sticky toffee pudding, we found ourselves at a bit of a loss when we got home as to what to make for lunch. Morrisons' extensive choice served to confuse rather than inspire and so we found ourselves making our much-loved watery lentil delight and enjoyed it with a huge plate of rice... The sausages still remain in the fridge!

As I think about the past 3 months I realise just how much we have learned. Giles and I went to India to teach, and yet it's us who received the real education. The door's always open in India, and within a couple of weeks we were an established part of the community. Not even our unusual skin tone or passion for running up massive hills in Lycra stood in the way of open invitations into the homes of complete strangers to be welcomed as friends. What we learned was that people prioritise people; they share what little they have with whomever is in their home. Likewise their family values are impeccable; old age isn't outsourced to a sterile clinic, they care for their relations from the beginning to the very end. The practicalities aren't an issue; it's simply a duty they'd never question.

Of course the teaching and general school assistance was what we really went to India for, and many perceived this decision as career suicide for a chemistry teacher in the making. Why turn down a job in a well resourced school in favour of the most basic teaching experience to date? Here's why...

For 3 months we ditched technology and regulation for the raw challenge of teaching without resources and boundaries. We wrote the rule book. Where there was no microscope we simply made cell models from pasta instead. Bicarb and vinegar gave the students their first chemical reaction; a tape measure was all we needed to introduce the concept of data collection, analysis and calculating averages. Our imaginations fired on all cylinders as we trawled Pedong's basic markets and took props from the surrounding environment in search of lesson inspiration.

Without the safety net of PowerPoint it's easy to feel a little exposed but wow, chalk is empowering! Even the most well-planned lessons spiralled into uncharted territory as the children became confident in asking questions, and I in answering them. Impromptu analogies flowed freely, and even memory rhymes were composed on the spot in an effort to make learning fun. No paper qualification can quantify what we have learned, but in pressing pause on the usual career trajectory I have honed some valuable skills.

What was great to see first-hand was the evidence that children really do learn best when empowered to think for themselves. Rote is so detrimental and really does serve only to produce parrots, not thinkers. As we gradually removed the 'repeat after me' ethos, we uncovered classes of thinkers and doers. Perhaps the best quote of all came from Prashant in class 4 when asked why rocks fall out of the sky during a lesson on gravity. He simply replied 'because they have no wings'! -We couldn't fault the logic!

I have never felt more motivated in my life. Every grain of effort was rewarded, and yet for the first time in my life I was working for nothing but job satisfaction. Teaching really is a vocation for those that want to make a difference, and with a classroom of smiling faces it's impossible to put anything but your best effort into every single lesson.

So what next? Well, Giles begins his career as a management consultant and I look forward to continuing teaching. Whether it's in this country, another, or even a bit of both still remains to be seen, but our continuing work with FutureSense is inevitable. Here's to the next cup of tea.... Happy new year to one and all, and thanks for following our adventures. I promise we're pressing pause and not stop.

Food Chains

We teachers are always looking to make learning relevant and exciting. Last year I taught my Y8 class all about food chains; predator/prey relationships and the effect of disease on populations. The classic example used is Fox > Rabbit > Cabbages. Yawn. The kids understand well enough but to make a concept stick it needs to be exciting! A friend once told me that if you relate a lesson to a gruesome death of some sort (think about it, Henry VIII is everyone's favourite monarch) then kids will remember it forever; today I found just the ticket to spice up food chains in science classes...

Vultures. Pokhara used to be swarming in the giant birds of prey, but today it's the tourist paragliders who outnumber the soaring carnivores. Why? Well, a very interesting morning with Danny and his team at the Himalyan Raptor Centre in Maya Devi village explained all.

Vultures prey on eggs and tiny critters, but they're best known for devouring fresh carrion. And who can blame them, it's much easier than wasting energy on a lone mouse. But here in Nepal their favourite feast is being polluted by a drug given to livestock. The vultures are dying out in their thousands; their population is a just 1% of what it was 8 years ago, and the cause is the veterinary drug, Diclofenac. It's a simple anti-inflammatory, and a cheap option for the poor farmers to prolong the lives of their cattle; purchasing new ones is just so expensive that they'll do anything to hang on to their livelihood for as long as possible.

Eventually death does catch up with the poor old cow, and the vultures swoop in as nature intended. But within a matter of hours the birds die of liver and kidney failure; today the vultures are on the brink of extinction.

Another point to consider is what happens to the carcass of a dead cow. In Hinduism, the predominant religion of the region, cows are sacred, so consuming them is out of the question. The result is huge mounds of dead cattle which arise in out of town locations. With fewer vultures to strip the carcasses there has been a massive increase in the number of wild dogs who literally live and eat on these giant piles of flesh and bone. Of course the next problem is disease; Rabies is rife in this part of the world and is spreading amongst the dogs at an alarming rate, not to mention putting humans at risk too.

So what's being done to help? The good news is that Nepal's government has made Diclofenac illegal, but the black market is still teeming with it. The farmers are so poor that they can't afford to simply let their animal die, so they continue to administer the illegal drug ignorant of the tragic effect further up the food chain. It's a sad situation, and at present the vulture population is paying the price.

So enter Scott, Danny and their team of Parahawkers: a small part of the charity aiming to stop this decline, they run a unique organisation that's seen a way to help everyone. Their prey: tourists, and their aim: to stabilise the vulture population, and assist injured birds. How? Here goes...

The organisation aims to take in injured birds, nurse them back to health and release them back into the wild. For those that have been in care too long to survive in the wild, they are given a new strand of employment... Tour guides, of course. Parahawking is a sport unique to Nepal. It's paragliding with a trained bird of prey. The birds guide the paragliders to the best thermals on the mountains, and their reward is a small piece of buffalo meat given to them by the outstretched hand of the passenger! A truly unique experience and a privileged insight into the bird's world. The added advantage for the birds is that this daily outing keeps them flying fit in a way that most captive birds cannot enjoy.

So what does this mean for the vulture population? Well a proportion of the rider's fee goes straight to Himalaya Raptor Rescue (www.himalayanraptorrescue.com) who are striving to create a vulture safe zone around Pokhara. They aim to intercept sickly cattle before the farmers get the chance to administer Diclofenac. The farmer is given a new cow and the sick one is taken away to a safe place to die a natural death, giving the vultures get a safe and tasty treat, and importantly stopping the lethal drug entering the food chain.

Determined to be part of this great cause, not to mention fuelling Giles' passion for all things flighty, we both took to the skies this morning and experienced a once in a lifetime opportunity. To soar in the thermals, accompanied by Egyptian vulture Bob (partner in crime to Kevin seen in an earlier blog!), was breathtaking. Through using a simple whistle call which Bob has learned to associate with a buffalo meat treat, he soared between Giles and I, landing on our arm and taking a moment to rest and eat. The whole experience was pretty overwhelming: on the one hand the view of the Western Himalyas from the air; on the other hand, quite literally, an Egyptian vulture; and as if that wasn't enough, the serene feeling of soaring under a canvas wing for the first time amongst many other like-minded souls also giving this sport a try. The hardest part of the whole experience was calling Bob back down to the landing zone on the edge of the lake as he was clearly enjoying himself far too much.

So, lesson inspiration...
Paint the picture, get the kids to work out their own solution to the crisis. Perhaps design a Facebook banner ad explaining the problem. Perhaps even extend this to a campaign or an app. I'm doubtful that school trip budgets will extend to Parahawking, but at least it's a real example that illustrates a concept; further still it shows what real people are doing to stop the plight. Inspirational and educational all at the same time. Now that's my kind of lesson!

Pics:

Black kites being cared for by Danny and Tracey at the Raptor centre.

A little bit more meaty tidbit as a bribe, and back to base camp for Kevin.

The grins say it all.

Taxi for one vulture to the top of the hill please.

Pre-take off (after the nervous pee!).

5 Dec - Sanctuary

Last night was one of reflection as we basked in the warmth of Maia's kitchen in the traditional looking sleepy village of Tolka. Looking North, the peaks of Annapurna South and Himul Chuli served as constant reminders of the wondrous wilderness we had been allowed a brief glimpse of during our previous few days up and back to Annapurna Base Camp (ABC as it's affectionately known). This is another blog where words simply aren't going to cut it, so enjoy the attached. The second ice arch we've found in a year in very different circumstances; monkeys; the most spectacular waterfalls (although running quite lightly compared with monsoon levels); vast glaciers, the most impressive of which is the huge field below ABC which looks more like some giant incomplete construction site; and the stars, wow.

The raw energy of this place is quite something, but as we have found at every juncture of our adventure, it is the people who complete and compliment the full picture. We're at the other end of the Himalayas to Pedong, in another country in fact, but there's a striking similarity beyond a shared mountain range and ethnicity. The sense of humour, no doubt borne of the harsh environment which they regularly do battle with is evident. They're a bunch of doers, making the most of what they can. You have to remember that this is not an easy place to live. 6000ft or more of towering unstable cliff above your home is a pretty mean leveller (in all senses of the term) - the huge scars on the surrounding hillsides are only too clear; the risk of straying off the tiny track in the snow of winter makes leaving one's house during many months not a viable option. And of course, this track is the only route up there: cement, roof beams, rice, lavatories, water systems; all of these are brought up on foot. It's a Goliath effort, but survive and prosper they do, and our awe of these hardy souls is as justified as that of the geography they inhabit.

As rare as it is to find oneself walking in company with other trampers, this is a well worn trek. We owe a week's worth of happy evening's company to those who have crossed our path on the route: there's le Francais, Cyril, the perpetual traveller, charming, and full of wonderful but humble recourse of times in Vanuatuan homes, and blueberry picking in Tasmania (if I ever struggle to find employment that's exactly where I am off to!); then Hannah and Marcus, two Deutsch volunteers who found romance in a shared house in Kathmandu; Robin has just returned from a month of providing anaesthetic expertise in a far remote Western Nepali village - his pictures are crude to say the least; young doctor Phil, who despite a sedentary life back in Australia, was being literally dragged by his guide across huge distances each day to make the most of his time in Annapurna.

The two stars of the show, however, have been Gyanendra, our guide, and Man (yup, that's his name, imagine the prefix fun we've been having!), our porter. Gyanendra's attention to detail has been immaculate, and his endless smile and laughter have been firm friends throughout; definitely a kindred spirit in search of a fulfilling but humble life and happiness for his children. Man has 9 children, 8 of which are daughters. In Nepali terms this is a disaster; especially as 4 of them are yet to marry. He's typical of the adorable people from the hills of the Himalyas, shy, modest and helpful. When he hasn't had two bags on his back and a strap across his head, he's been smiling as he helps to cook,or shakes our hands at the top of particularly challenging sections. [editor's note: and with a couple of Raksys (local millet wine) inside him speaks more Engish than we gave him credit for!]. The two of them are obviously firm friends, and that, beyond their support of us, has been enchanting to watch.

Yesterday we were treated to a morning in hot springs set virtually in the raging Modi Khola before wending our way back to the relative civilisation south of Chhomrong. A day of suspension bridges, easy riverside walking and warm sunshine seemed a long way from the icy remoteness of the top of our route, but as ever the milky blue glacial water and backdrop of some of the world's biggest mountains kept us from complacency.

We left that valley this morning, on our penultimate day in this magical place. Hearty breakfast before our last big climb, and we're now sitting at Dhampus enjoying the fact that having come into the next valley to the East we now have a view of the next range in the giant Himalyan ridge. Dal Baht is on its way and we're gonna put our feet up. Enjoy the photos and do the same...

30 Nov - Annapurna

After being spoilt by both Singilila and its fabulous views of Kanchenjunga, and the remote beauty of the Yumthang valley in Sikkim, Sarah and I were just a little worried that the Annapurna Sanctuary trek might just not have had the same stupefying effect had we not already been on two such spectacular adventures.

So, it's coming up to 4pm, and we are sitting at a table on the roof of today's tea-house, relaxing and enjoying the late afternoon sun. Below us the roar of the Modi Khola, across the kilometre deep valley, some spectacular waterfalls, and immediately above our heads graceful vultures; their wings wouldn't look out of place on a light aircraft. But it is the view that their soaring draws our eyes to which really exemplifies why the Annapurna Sanctuary is reviewed as one of the world's best treks; behind the splayed tip feathers, but more importantly, way-way up, is Annapurna South, its peak just breaking through the cloud. It's the first time that we have been close enough to the giants to have to look up rather than across to enjoy them, and the effect is extraordinary. The shady valley in front of the peak is dark, forboding, and impossibly deep; its scale alone is enormous, but it is simply dwarfed by the snow capped mountain which keeps watch above it. As you can probably tell, this really is wow landscape.

The mountains are really what we are here for, but in fact the whole trek so far has thrown up so much eye-candy. Only yesterday we descended 900m through jungle and gorges, chasing energetic torrents down the hill; and that was after getting up at half-past-five to see sunrise at Poon Hill which offers a truly panoramic view of the Western Himalayas. As if that wasn't enough, our destination last night, Ghandruk, was just like being back in a medieval European village: dry stone buildings with heavy stone roofs; buffalo being herded along the streets towards waiting ploughs; and an array of equipment we haven't seen since the industrial revolution in the developed world. It really was magical, and just so peaceful. And you have to remember that the only way ANYTHING gets here is by porter or donkey.

Tonight we are staying in Chhomrong, the last permanent settlement in the valley that leads all the way up to Machhapuchhre's and Annapurna's base camps. Tomorrow we head north. Exciting times, and almost unbelievable that the scenery might be able to get any better.

25 Nov - An Introduction to Nepal

Our entrance to Nepal was like something out of a film. Two dusty tired travellers traipsing across a long busy bridge over a shallow river bed towards a new adventure. To look at, little changed as we arrived at the main square in Kakarabitta on the far Eastern edge of Nepal, but immediately there's a change in atmosphere. Girls are dressed in trendy sometimes revealing clothes, and service is more out of necessity than the desire to please and do the best job. In the first hotel we went into, the reception was inhabited by a sullen looking girl and a young man reading a paper. On asking about rooms, she immediately deferred to him; he glanced up, shrugged, and then returned to what was obviously a much more engaging subject in his paper. We walked out.

At a friendly hotel, the next shock. "Sir, there will be no getting to the airport tomorrow. Strike."

And it was going smoothly to that point. "No taxis or jeeps at all?"

"We are not sure Sir. Decision make at 7 tomorrow morning." Exactly when we needed to be leaving to get to the airport.

A difficult conversation followed where we managed to persuade the owner to look into still getting us a taxi. After much telephoning and frenetic toing-and-fro-ing, it transpired that there was no guarantee of a vehicle, and the only certain way that we would make our flight would be as passengers on the back of two motorbikes. It seemed that the strike restrictions didn't extend to two wheels. Confident, although less than happy, that there was a solution, the next lesson we learnt as we settled into a delicious dinner, was that the Nepalis make their curries a lot hotter than what we have been used to. Wow.

Unwilling to wait to see if the strike would start at 7am, Sarah and I headed out to the taxi stand at 6.30 in search of a ride. It was very clear that no one was expecting to do anything other than normal business, and so we soon found ourselves en route from Kakarabitta to Badraphur. Apart from the ubiquitous cattle, the only obstacle on the roads were a few early morning rickshaws, their frames gloriously warped and chains drooping from decades of hard labour as the main form of transport in these parts. Fate is a wonderful thing, and as a result of our being much earlier than expected we enjoyed the charmingly quaint farms and fields either side of us as we headed South through the easternmost part of Nepal. Giant haystacks, carts with traditional wooden wheels and oxen pulling wooden ploughs were lit by the early morning sun as it penetrated the last of the mist. The farms themselves were primitive huts with mud walls and woven bamboo roofs. Magical; it was, apart from the MP3 player blaring tunes into the back of our wagon, and the omnipresent adverts for mobile networks, like stepping back into an episode of Victorian Farm. Vodafone meets the Victorians! We ended up being so early for our flight that we woke the security guard at the airstrip's gate. The airport was definitely closed until a couple of hours later and so we headed into town for breakfast.

The only cafe in a town that looked like somewhere between Amish and frontier post served up delicious puris, aloo dom (once again hot enough to wake even the worst risers!), and tea. All for the princely sum of 60p for both of us. We happily whiled away an hour enjoying watching the locals do breakfast, and preparing for the adventure ahead.

Returning to the airport gate, we dipped into the 'departure lounge' cafe for a final masala tea before the off. Less Starbucks, and more corner shack, outside a couple of yak, freshly harvested fields of potato and rice, and little sign of the usual airport bustle. When the gates did finally open we were ushered through the process surprisingly efficiently to depart exactly on time.

The flight from Badraphur to Pokhara, via Katmandu, must be one of the world's finest as you fly parallel to the entire Himalayan range from one end to the other; Kanchenjunga to Annapurna and everything in between as well as glimpses of the huge second and third rows of ranges further north in Tibet. A stunning backdrop and at last a sense of the size of the Himalayas. We arrived in Pokhara excited and keen to explore; the start of our holidays after 10 weeks of hard graft in India.

Pokhara came as a shock. I think that we had immersed ourselves so purely into rural Indian life in Pedong that the rows and rows of tourist agencies, shops and restaurants seemed alien, garish and extravagant. We both struggled to come to terms with where we now found ourselves, a long long way from the life of the past 2 months, despite the breathtaking backdrop of the 'Fish Tail' and Annapurna. Hundreds of white travellers outnumbered the locals, almost hedonistic in their consumption of western food, fake trekking gear and 'local' goods for sale, and we were pretty overwhelmed. The urge to return to the simple unmaterialistic life of only two days previous caught us both by surprise, especially given how much we had been looking forward to our Nepal adventure.

Leaving the town the next day on foot to go and see a raptor rehabilitation centre, we found ourselves blessedly free of the tourist traps, and once again in local villages on the edge of the stunning Phewa Tal. At the bird sanctuary we found Danny and his team, a bunch of dedicated ornithologists who are trying desperately to reverse the 99% decline in the vulture population in the Himalayas in the past 7 years. It's a heart wrenching tale of man's naive interference with nature, but more about that in a later blog, and if you are lucky enough to be taught by Sarah expect it to be her favourite example when teaching food chains!

That evening we met our guide who would take us to the Annapurna Sanctuary, Gyanendra. What a lovely, smiley, happy man. All frustrations of Pokhara's tourist side was lost as he enthused about our forthcoming trek, rearranged the schedule to give us a better experience, and explained his support of our particular porter, who would in only a few years time be too old to work any more. We have been very lucky with all our guides throughout our adventure, and Gyanendra is no different. Thoughtful, funny and sincere, we find ourselves now at the end of day one, high in what he calls hills - definitely mountains to the layman - having enjoyed a spectacular climb in across rickety suspension bridges and through endless terraces every bit as beautiful as Singilila or Sikkim.

Pictures:

Welcome to Badraphur Airport!

Everest from the Air.

The stunning Phewa Tal lake on the edge of Pokhara.

Endangered and beautiful. Egyptian Vulture 'Kevin'. Watch this space for some more exciting stories about him.

Danny and his bird...

Trek day 1 : bridges, terracing and horses. Lovely and such a refreshing relief after the madness of Pokhara.

Departure time...

We planned a quiet departure from Pedong; a 06:30 jeep should have allowed us to slip away with little fuss. But of course Suchita insisted tearfully that she couldn't let us go without breakfast, and the word soon got around. The young lads, some of whom were still in their night shirts, took our bags like willing Sherpas, and strode ahead to organise our tickets. Suchita, our Indian mother and truly great friend with whom we've shared daily jokes and mealtimes, was in pieces. Little tears rolled down her cheeks as I assured her we'd meet again.

Once again tears pricked the backs of our eyes as an entourage of children held our hands as they and the adults escorted us up the street towards the jeep stand for the last time.

Pooja, Sonia and several of the little lads from class 2 thrust yet more thank you letters into our hands, each uttering a final plea for us to stay. And Sunod-sir, the night owl who can't stand early mornings, found himself waving goodbye as the jeep pulled away just before 7am (remember, India time!).

As we wound our way up the familiar route out of Pedong, beneath the big spiders hanging in their webs (none of which did ever make it into our room!) there was one last surprise: Ashit was standing just outside his house and we were able to offer one last wave.

It was the perfect send-off and one we'll remember for a very long time.

Next stop Nepal...

23 Nov - Reflections...

I think I have referred to Mark Helyar's book 'Rising from the Dust' before. But there is the particular piece in it where he so beautifully describes the misdirection of Indian energy:

"If the amount of force that is spent on India were spent on a European nation, you would find it full of creative activities of various kinds. But, here, in India, it is like sending a current of electricity through a sleeping man: he suddenly starts up, begins jerking and throwing his arms and feet about, and then drops down again; he is not fully awake.

"So much creative potential, realised by the minority, lies dormant elsewhere: "that bucket is made for washing, so wash with it we will. That hose is intended to irrigate the fields. Combine the 2 to make a shower? Why would we want to do that?". Sri Aurobindo calls is 'thought phobia.'"

Insightful stuff, and perhaps pertinent on this, our last day at Kids' Castle in Pedong hidden in the Himalayas.

24 Nov - We're So Lucky

'Have you always wanted to be a teacher?'

'Not always, no, but I do now.'

This was music to our ears as we enjoyed our final evening at KCS in the presence of Parsuram and Anmol, our two star teachers. Wow. Two twenty-something charismatic best-friends who have discovered that wealth is often not material.

We met Anmol and Parsuram properly during our first weekend in Pedong back in September. During a walk to the best viewpoint above the town (had the cloud not laid our plans to waste, it is one of the rare spots where you can see 14 turns of the Teesta river down at 500m or so and Kanchenjunga at 8500m), Sarah and I enjoyed lovely conversations with the two of them: life in Pedong, families, teaching, and from Parsuram his understanding of soft skills from a career before he turned to eduction. The closeness of the two was apparent from the start, and tales of late night liquor sessions together after hard days at school, and glorious banter between them has been delightful to watch.

Both boys are 25. Anmol has an oriental face, and above it a neatly slicked back mane which wouldn't look out of place in Bugsy Malone. He's always smart, and gives an air of confidence and on first glance aloofness. But that's just a front. Behind it he's friendly, kind, and bright. He's been a further source of intrigue as we have seen him walking away from school in the evenings with one of the English teachers. Sadly, cultural etiquette means that we haven't managed to find out whether they're actually an item or not. But we were reassured when chatting to another of the teachers, Samrat, to find that all the other teachers had been asking the same question amongst themselves. Nothing like a bit of good gossip.

With frighteningly angular cheekbones, Parsuram is the geeky kid in the clothes that don't quite fit. All his clothes are too big for him, as if his Mum still believes there's room for growth. Perhaps his charming, but sadly silent on account of her not speaking a word of English, wife likes him to look a little bigger than he is. Both boys are typically slight and short. You'd mistake them for teenagers in the UK. But sparkly eyes echo his endearing enthusiasm and positive outlook. Even when Gautam has set him some impossible deadline for some impossibly important document which requires preparing on a computer, he remains cheerful and calm. He's unflappable. There was a lovely moment during Foundation Day when, as two of the boys singing on stage suffered an attack of nerves, Parsuram turned away from the audience at his seat in front of the PA system, and sang subtly into the microphone conveniently placed there to help them out. And that's just one example of his selfless attitude.

Together they're an inseparable team. And it is perhaps these two guys who have made the most progress during our time at KCS. Energetic, enthusiastic, and eager to learn themselves, we leave them knowing that the children are in the hands of a couple of people who are naturals in the classroom. Anmol has an ability to explain anything scientific with the most accurate chalk board drawings combined with the use of some of the more activity-based learning we have introduced him to. Parsuram just has a way with the kids which means they sit glued to his every word, and a mind that can spontaneously adapt to the situation. In his thank you card to me he very vociferous about my help in lesson planning with him, but more often than not it was his ideas that were more applicable and the ones we used. Brilliant. Gives us real hope.

So we found ourselves on our final night at KCS sitting in Gautam and Suchita's sitting room-cum-chambre with these two affable friends. A couple of beers (for us) and 'Honey Bees' (strong brandy for them!) later and it was so great to find that we were not talking to the stereotypical staid concept of Indians. When we mentioned Top Gear their eyes lit up - transpires it's just as popular in West Bengal as it is on Dave at home - and the conversation moved from there to g-suits, Topgun, and further still to missiles; from there religion was the catalyst for a dialogue which really opened up. I think that when put into a culture seemingly so different to one's own, the desire to find out more and to compare is always strong. In this case, though, what we found was that although we shared inquisitiveness about each other's homes, we also shared a lot more than that. A desire to do some good, to make a difference. As they effused about life, it was abundantly clear that they are so happy in the Himalayan hills. "We have heard of wifi, but we haven't used, we only have 2G, we are so behind out here. But it doesn't matter, we don't need it. We are very happy. We are so lucky, we have everything we could want here." What a refreshing outlook. They have each other, their families, and of course in that Indian way from which we could learn so much, they have that sense of community which I suspect would be very hard to recreate in the UK. And now they have a lovely means of directing that sense of wanting to help that community. We were left in no doubt that these two, thick-as-thieves, would be the ones to keep putting the effort in at school, despite whatever obstacles came their way, and importantly we have no doubt that they'll share it with us. We cannot tell you how much we look forward to that.

Pictures:

Anmol and Giles teach class 4 all about soil erosion. His dam model was the winner that lesson.

Weekend 1 walking with Parsuram.

Parsuram and Anmol listen as I attempt to help with some teacher training!

Parsuram goes alone with class 4 and measurement. An OFSTED standard delivery!

Both boys are really musical. Their guitar and keyboard playing brought the Foundation Day to life. Anmol told us that if the opportunity had existed when he was at school then he would have liked to have been a musician. But he has no regrets or indeed resentment.

On leaving we were presented by every single teacher and student a khodor (scarf). We couldn't take them all with us onward on our journey, but I am pretty sure we singled out those from Anmol and Parsuram to sneak into our bags.

It's not goodbye; just see you later...

Like the end of a good book, our leaving KCS saw every story strand beautifully rounded off, and if you like happy endings, there was one of those too.

The day began like every other with the usual assembly drill and 4 morning lessons. As the students got down to business, project coordinator and great friend, Santa, arrived to see just what had been achieved. First up class 3 unleashed their creative genius in illustrating their animal stories which had been written the day before. As a treat each child was given some goggly eyes (thank you Hobby Craft) which brought their masterpieces to life. Santa looked proudly at what was happening...

'Look at all these faces, they're so happy and engaged!'

It was the reaction we needed to confirm a job well done.

A school of engaged students is Santa's dream, and what he saw didn't disappoint. Class 2 were enjoying maths; piecing together dominoes and working out simple fractions. The nursery were being introduced to finger puppets, each bringing their characters to life with basic conversation. When I popped in to see Giles engaging the smallest students I couldn't help but notice the lack of trousers on the cheekiest of all, Abinesh. Upon closer inspection it was clear what had happened from the evidence all over the floor, but out here dry pants aren't catered for so he was happy enough playing with his pink elephant finger puppet naked from the waist down (I kid you not, if he'd had the grey mouse it wouldn't have been nearly so funny!).

By mid morning we began handing out small gifts to the younger students: pipe cleaners! Bendy and colourful, they sparked creativity, imagination and appreciation. Their little faces were an absolute picture, and what they made even more so. We had pretend glasses, rings, flowers and moustaches! I'm not sure they'll last longer than the weekend but their reaction to the novelty was priceless!

Class 3 actually received an extra gift, courtesy of Giles, in relation to their Christmas card-making frenzy of 2 days ago. Whilst I spent much of the previous evening planning lessons and arranging thank yous for one and all, Giles submerged himself in mission 'make the best Christmas card ever'. What he produced was a work of art, so much so that he whimpered 'do I really have to give it away' just before parting with it! The reaction, although inevitable, justified the effort: 'Sooooooo nice'! When Giles read the card's message out to the cheery faces, emotion finally engulfed him. As the wobble grew stronger he handed the reins to me just before any of the boys noticed; Giles' hero status was saved just in time!

Class 3 then became untameable, almost to the same level as when we first met them. That first day is still crystal clear in my mind; Giles exiting the classroom with beads of sweat pouring off his head, a chalk hand print on his bottom and uttering the words: "I'm never going in there again!" What a turn around! Although still hyperactive, the riot that ensued was out of adoration, and the handfuls of marigold confetti and letters of appreciation were simply overwhelming.

Overwhelmed too was Santa. Once the formalities of exit meetings and teacher briefings were complete, our stoic Nepali friend crumbled and threw his arms around us both. Giles, much like on our wedding day, did the same leaving me to shake the boys back into the moment! As little tears rolled down Santa's cheeks it was clear that this was just the beginning of what the next couple of hours had in store.

India really does thrive on celebrations and formalities, and so our hopes of a quiet exit were soon dashed. As the children gathered in the probably-never-to-be-finished school hall, plastic coated swivel chairs and a lectern were carefully positioned by the prefects. The children squeezed onto the tiny green benches and over 100 sets of fingers twitched around neatly tied posies and khodors (traditional ceremonial scarves). The most talented teacher of all, Parsuram, took our camera and began snapping as the thank-yous began. Sunod-sir, the deputy head, gave a touching speech, and teachers and students echoed his thanks through broad smiles and the Indian-typifying head wiggle. Then it was our turn, and our off-the-cuff plan worked brilliantly. We bounced off each other giving praise and recognition, and the students cheered in turn as we referred to each of their classes. In true Giles fashion the tears arrived just as we began summing up... Thank goodness we are a reliable double act! Once I'd rounded off our thanks the students were invited to make their presentations. Wow. It was as if the monsoon had returned, only this time it was raining khodors. Within a few minutes they were literally falling off our backs but the onslaught continued! It's nice to be appreciated but this really felt too kind.

The atmosphere was somewhere between celebratory and sombre, and as the occasion drew to a close I felt quite guilty at the number of puffy eyes that left the playground. Our parting English lesson was one of reassurance; we told them all that the words 'see you later' are far less final than 'goodbye', and this went a long way to raising spirits once again.

Armed with thank you letters galore we made our way back up to our room, and then it was my turn to crumble. Ashit, our little rebel-turned-angel, gave me a present, and on the label it read 'a toucan of my love for you'. Having been lucky enough to get to know Ashit properly we are only too aware of his circumstances, and yet he gave me the most beautiful scarf. Any teacher out there will know the importance of being equal, but in your heart of hearts the are always a couple of special ones who you never forget. If this is a taste of things to come then I had better toughen up a bit! As Giles wrapped his arms around me and banished any feelings of guilt for leaving, we reflected on what we have achieved over the last 10 weeks.

We came here to make a difference, and make a difference we did. Whilst our drive to create something sustainable was challenged soon into the project, we pressed 'reset', contented ourselves by helping the children themselves, and continued attacking the underlying systemic problems from a slightly different angle. Reflecting on 10 weeks, we realise that goals on every level have indeed been met. The kids had a great time, KCS is undergoing a management restructure to put the right people in charge, and there are initiatives to increase the number of volunteers in the pipeline and provide a more organised approach to assisting schools in North East India.

As of the next academic year starting in February, KCS is to be split into separate primary and secondary schools. The junior one will be lead by Sunod-sir and star teacher Omu-miss (Ashit's aunt). For those who are interested the whole story can be told when we are home, but in short this is an arrangement that we have helped to bring about, and it promises a financially viable and well managed lower school that is willing to work hard to transform into a modern teaching medium. The upper school's future is less certain, but that's another long story too complicated for a blog.

By the UK's standard KCS is miles away from providing an education deemed as satisfactory for all, but what's key is that we have got the ball rolling. Rome wasn't built in a day but look at what was built in the end. We were given hope earlier in the week when we visited some neighbouring schools. Both have applied for volunteers and both are very worthy candidates. Having depressed ourselves a number of times and banged our heads against imaginary brick walls, we thought that any kind of evolution in education would be impossible. However, Tuesday presented 2 passionate head teachers alongside their thriving schools, each aware of the need to teach by more stimulating means, and each eager to learn more. Long term, the vision that we have devised alongside Santa is to create a Future Sense Academy, where thriving schools who succeed in providing a good education become mentors for the more needy. It's a big goal but, hand on heart, I think it's possible.

What we really need out here are volunteers. The schools are crying out for people to make a difference, so perhaps the UK's National Curriculum objective of creating cultural awareness within schools might just fuel our other vision of a teacher exchange programme. All ideas are embryonic, but, as predicted, we are in too deep out here now and continue to provide support to the big ideas. Perhaps not frontline work as new careers beckon, but our time on the project is far from over.

If any of you fancy an adventure of a lifetime then do chat to us about our time in India; we both agree that it's the single most rewarding experience we have ever had.

Photos:

Little Abinesh... Nothing on his bottom half but he's still smiling!

Nursery enjoy finger puppets -thanks Sue for such a great idea.

Giles presents class 3 with a Christmas card 'Soooooooooo nice, Sir'. I don't think even he knew that he was so good at arts and crafts!

Class 3 with G&S

Giles receives a khodor from Prashant, his superstar from class 4. Sarah didn't get a hug cos the poor little chap was too emotional!

Ashit gives me the present that made me cry (and I'm wearing it as I type).

The class 6 girls, beautiful ladies who I'll miss so much. Lloydy, L-J, notice that the Princess stationery box is proudly displayed (even though it's empty!).. Thanks so much.