So today was my first day helping at Akanksha. Briony, a girl I met super briefly through friends of Anthony's about a month ago, introduced me to the charity. They work with kids from slum areas, seeking only to improve English, Maths and values for 2 1/2 hours a day. On Saturday I went to their induction centre to fill in a form and watch their promotional video. I left a little late but amazing ricksha efficiency got me to the area in time, even though I wasn't really sure where I as going! Masani was the name of the woman running the shop that morning. 50
Metres from the centre, I managed to get horribly lost. There is no proper address system here yet. One thing that is taken for granted quite extensively in the UK is the superb postal system, but not only that, the fact that every postal code is mappable. Here, you are at the mercy of the ricksha driver or the knowledge on the street. No bad thing, you might thing, that people are put back in the equation, but when it comes to finding the actual building it can be frustrating. I found myself wandering in circles on the phone to Masani, trying to describe where I was while she described where I should be. In the end a local kindly pointed me in the right direction.

I faced a similar problem today, as there happened to be two DHL offices in the area surrounding the teaching centre. Unfortunely I found myself on the wrong side of the road, outside the wrong DHL, convinced I was in the right place and not understanding why Sonali, the techer I would be working with, could not see me. Eventually I found the place, with her help. I felt bad because I know she was diverting attention from the class to attend to my lost self. I sped up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and found myself in a long balcony serving as the an entrance to the 5 or more identical classrooms, one of which housed Sonali. Using the rough postion I had remembered seeing her in as I approached the building, I took a guess that she was in the room second from the end, drew breath, and entered. 35 faces stared up at me from the stone floor. It seemed I was in the right place, because the woman on the other side of the room met my eyes with a smile: 'Sonali?'
'Yes'.
'Girls, this is Nick, he will be helping us'.
She asked me to introduce myself, and I did, drawing on the board a bad map of the UK in an attempt to explain Scotland. It occurs to me now that having had no training in, experience of, or even introduction to teaching, it was just instinct and improvisation that kept me going in those unique opening minutes with the class. It was a moment I dont think I'll ever forget.

I sat down on the floor with the girls; I dont think anyone expected me to do that given mini looks of shock I received from Sonali and the girls for doing so, given the row of small desks they presumably expected me to use. We did some spelling, and i was surprised by the kids proficieny in English. Towards the end of 'word bingo', Sonali left the class to speak to a man, hastily handing me the chalk again. I found myself having to improvise again as the bingo words on the board ran out. This time I came up with a strange version of sharads, which had me dancing around in an attempt to act out various nouns which I then had the class guess and spell for me. It worked: they seemed to like it and kept me on my toes acting out cars, hearts, and bows and arrows until Sonali returned.

Later in the class I helped with English and maths they did in their textbooks, bringing the 2 and a half hour session to a close. Needless to say, I can't wait to return next week.

I'm on the roof again. We are very lucky to live on the 4th of 5 floors in a nice block of new apartments. The building has a terrace which only a few weeks ago we obtained a key to, allowing us to come up at will. The terrace is about 100 square metres, and because we are the tallest building around the view is fantastic. But the terrace has a secret. If you climb the iron stairs to the lift machine room door, you can skirt around the side of lift house and using a hidden window as footing climb to the top. The view is panoramic, and magnificent. Lying here earlier listening to music I found myself in the most relaxed state my busy life has allowed for weeks, possibly months. From here we can see the temple on the hill, our maid, Parveen's, house in the shantytown which stretches as far as the eye can see. Music and noise is emitted from the streets all around. We live right next to what I call one of the more local 'pockets' in Pune, where the community element is stronger and local culture and tradition fill the air. Every morning I hear a priest signing from the temple below us, and a bell sounds (around) the hour.

Behind me sits the city, one divided between heavy development and westernisation, and local poverty. The other day when we were up here I saw, for the first time, how big the city is. It's hard to see far at night, because the dust and pollution limits visibility further. But during the day you can almost see 5 miles, to the north and east end of town. I think one reason it seems smaller on the ground than, is because rickshas are a surprisingly efficient means to travel around. The traffic flow here is constant, because there are very few traffic lights or directions. It's interesting, that though it is chaotic, it could be more efficient. Of course there accidents all the time, and many people die on the roads... or do they? I wonder what the statistics are on per-capita or per-road user deaths in India versus the UK, because I still haven't witnessed a single accident or even seen one on the side of the street. Maybe that's just luck, or maybe there's more to this madness than meets the eye!

I got quite drunk last night. Anthony and I went out to an eatery called 'Asia' near MG road after having eaten barely anything all day, as we worked to get out an interim build of EnTrip. I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to order a second pitcher of beer for us to share, but I think it had something to do with a residual thought in my head that drinking would be a good idea because it would help me be more creative in the writing I intended to do later that night. The food was good, and so was the conversation, but I had a bit too much. As we waited for our meal to arrived I texted Alisha to name the place and time for our date. When I told Anthony I was going out with her a few days ago, I quickly corrected myself to say that we had just arranged to go out, but that because it was me, it was likely it would not happen. Perhaps after having been cancelled on a few times in the past, I had a strange feeling about this one being one of those times too. I joked with Anthony when he said there's no logical reason she would cancel, that God simply makes girls cancel on me, and it has nothing to do with how much they like me or how much I like them. After 15 minutes she still hadn't replied, and I joked again that she'd end up cancelling. Anthony held out his hand and said 'I bet you a meal at Flags she won't!'. Flags is an upmarket restaurant near the station which we have frequented a few times, and sells very good food. I declined. 15 minutes later I remarked again that she hadn't replied and it looked like God was having his way. He held out his hand again and this time I accepted.

I think the phrase 'so sorry' is a replacement for 'sorry' here. The number of times I've been told 'so sorry' makes me doubt it's sincerity now! Last Thursday I arranged my first date here, and today I got my first cancellation. She said she was tired after a long day in Uni, but that tomorrow is good, so we'll see. Her name is Alisha. I met her a few weeks ago at a party of a friend of ours. She seems nice, but doesn't really keep in touch much with me. I don't know if that's because she doesn't know what to say, or if she's busy, or if she just finds me boring. Perhaps it's because she expects me to do all the talking. I'm interested to find out...

When I told Anthony that he would be taking me out to Flags, he exclaimed 'Why is God always right?!'