Firstly, I'd like to apologise to those who have been waiting a long time for a short/long update on my journey (i.e. Dr. Jeckle and his park friends).For those who didn't even know I had their email or weren't expecting anything and forgot I was alive, well, I am alive.And this is my second update after 7 weeks of being in India.

My last post ended when I was about to teach.Well, I began teaching, started with a bang, and it was very exciting.There are three permanent classes of English (It's not a priority) for Felix and I to share.Because there is no curriculum, we must make the curriculum ourselves.And that's what we have done for the last month and a half.I decided to take on the young (8-14 yrs) and middle class (14-18), and Felix has taken on the older, more advanced class (16-20).My first lesson was basic enough.I was pretty scared because I didn't know what they knew.I also had a grand vision of being a great teacher, and didn't want to let myself down.Now I have learnt that I am just a teacher, special for them but there is no reason to feel pressure.The only pressure was from myself.

The monks have filled my life with craziness, more energy, innocence and surprise.They constantly surprise me by breaking the stereotype of a silent, calm, monk high in the mountains.Well, they are monks, and we are in the mountains, pretty high, but they certainly aren't quiet.From yelling "go away" to the suspected rabid dogs who gather in the kitchen at dinner time, to the sounds of laughing and shouting on Sunday when the monks when they play football and table tennis.The football oval looks like a bit of bare Australian desert that's been died yellow rather than red, and shaped like a squashed pear.Its pretty small, and the goal posts are made from bamboo.Despite the isolation (which is overexaggerated),the monks barrack for Manchester united, or Liverpool.They all have posters of players in their small shared rooms and worship them nearly as much as they pray for Buddha.In fact, not just football, but with all things in the West, the monks and all Indians are quite well educated.Especially in pop culture.In the two local restaurants in the Tibetan part of Tashijong (The monastery is actually called Kampa-ghar, derived from a part of Tibet, known for its loud noises and shouting) there are TVs, all equipped with up to date cable (which only costs $3 a month) with many channels.However, most of it is in Hindi or has been dubbed, so I've learnt to enjoy watching people moving.Just like Linbaba in Shantaram, I too am growing to love Bollywood movies and music.While the acting could be described as simply pathetic and over the top (I first thought this), I've come to see it as energetic, vibrant and incomparable to Western acting.It is its own brand, its own type.There is still action, romance and rampant sex scenes (just kidding!), but its all very Indian.Its an "Indian" sort of flavour which I can't describe without bringing you here with me.

Its taken me a few weeks to settle down, but I'm really starting to feel comfortable now.And the more comfortable I feel, the more I appreciate a uniqueness of India. And being a teacher and talking to many Indians and Tibetans, I've grown a new appreciation of our Australian heritage.Today I as even singing "Kookaburra sitting in an old gum tree…" with a monk while on the bus, travelling to nearby Palampur.We were singing loudly until an Indian woman looked behind to us and stared.It was quite a friendly stare (like most in India) but it was enough to stop us singing for the moment.

Hopfully, there will be more singing, and dancing with Indians and Tibetans.Right now though, I must leave the café, and return to Tashi jong.There's much more I'd like to add.And I will soon,

Goodbye for now!