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I about flipped out when I saw this street band marching around. I thought I was at mardi gras again for a second. Except there was no alcohol. So actually not really mardi gras at all. But I was really surprised to find a brass marching band tromping around town. This is part of the tradition of making a wedding the biggest and most bankrupting thing a family does in their lifetime. The guy on the horse towards the back is the groom. Traditionally the horse is a white mare, but I don't think this one was. You have to take what you can get in phaltan.

This woman was supposed to be our Murathi teacher, but we changed our minds at the last minute to take Hindi, so we got another teacher. I thought her sari was really beautiful so I took a picture of her.

This kid named Jugdish that is a neighbor of our friend had a birthday and they invited us. The birthday tradition there involves this tray of colored powder that your older, female relatives smudge on your forehead and then toss some rice in your hair while chanting something. There is all kinds of symbolism in the choice of items on the tray, but I haven't the foggiest what that might be. Jugdish is a character and a half. Despite not really knowing any english this kid manages to be completely hilarious. Don't ask me how. This was his 15th birthday. Yes, he's really small. His relatives made copious amounts of fun of him for this fact. But it was all in good fun, of course.

This was so much fun. We were all in the midst of being really homesick, when we met this Indian who lived in France and was back here doing some work. He had brought 3 bottles of honest-to-god French wine with him and he had no cork-screw. The French girls, of course, had one and so we helped him and his friends dispose of their wine burden. They could also speak Hindi well and managed quite quickly to find out that the hotel did in fact have cheese (a fact that had eluded our language skills for some 3 or 4 weeks at that point) and so had it packed in nice apetizer form and brought up for our wine and cheese party. So good.

My friend Yogesh took me on a little hiking trip to see a 'waterfall' the other day. I think he must have missed the translation on that one because there was not actually any water at said waterfall. There was however a stinky dead sheep and some really really awesome views. We hiked all the way up this dry river bed in the photo, then climbed the dry waterfall and hiked over the top of the hills to cut back to where we started. It was a really good trip despite a lack of falling water. Considering that it hadn't rained in months at the time and there is no spring source for the waterfall, only run-off, you'd think he would know there wouldn't be water. But oh well I guess it was a very nice hike. Next time I will definitely wear real shoes though. Pretty much people here wear exclusively flip flops unless they're dressing for something really special. Of course I fit right in with that one.

This is a Banyan tree. I think they are cool. That's about all I have to say about that one.

This is a much better ox cart photo than that other one. Yes they are extremely prevalent. I think I will have at least 100 photos of ox carts and women carrying things on their heads by the time I'm done. For some reason I feel compelled to keep taking such pictures.

This is the bus. Since Phaltan is so rural that they don't even have a train station, this is how we get around. It's not as bad as it looks, but there are a few of them where the body panels aren't even really held together. Be sure not to lean on the wall, because it might bite you when we hit a bump! It's actually quite a lot of fun to ride in these buses because they don't have much in the way of shocks, so it keeps things exciting.

Speaking of pictures of women carrying things on their heads...here is one now. They do this so much that they think we're crazy to wanting to take a picture of something so ordinary. I don't know, half the time I think it might be more comfortable than trying to lug around a big bulky package. I'm pretty sure they usually have some kind of cushion that they put on their head first as well, at least if the load is heavy.

We got graciously invited to lunch at a friend's house in a village called Jitna, outside of Phaltan the other day. In this village, probably a third to a half of the buildings were clay and/or thatched roof like the one in this photo. Wow. There's really not much I can say about the fact that people are living in mud huts here, so I won't try anymore. Although, I will say that I have yet to see anyone who seemed particularly put-upon by their lot in life. In fact I'm pretty sure that the Hindu religion requires one to be satisfied with their lot in life, in hopes of drawing a better one next time around.

We visited their small temple in Jitna, to the Cobra. Apparently a cobra is considered such a good omen that people may sometimes be happy that one moves into their house. Hmm. Interesting. Anyway, they smile on this kid, who followed us into the temple, is really typical of the attitude that we meet around here, at our being foreigners. Strangely enough, there is always somehow at least a trace of aw in their voice when they hear I'm from America. ('wow, amay-reeka!') It's cool.

This is the ferry they used to get across the river here. I really loved the horse head on that boat. If the river was so dangerously swollen from all of the rain we'd had, I would have insisted on a ride.

Family photo in Jitna. Deepak was our friend who invited us to lunch in Jitna. This is his family's house. Or maybe his actually. Maelle and Cecile are hiding on the left, behind the leaves. I love the size comparison of me and everybody else. And I also love...

I love the spectators. This is who was watching us take the Family photo in Jitna. Just about everything we do outside our apartment is subject to a peanut gallery such as this. One of the best parts about getting our apartment in fact was the ability to eat our dinner without being stared at. Ah, the things we take for granted. It's quite ok, though. Don't get me wrong. My boss here told me a similar story of when he and his wife were driving through rural kansas in the 70's. They stopped to eat in a small town and he said almost the entire population turned out to watch them eat.

This is the 'hotel' to go with Hotel Pink Hill, where we eat lunch every day. Sweet. I want to reiterate, however, that the food is awesome.