My Feet

So Tuesday was my last day at a school. The students, teachers, and I were all consumed with exchanging hugs, taking pictures, saying goodbyes, giving letters and layering the day with blessings. All the Indians were especially focused on begging me to come again in July. At the end of the day they requested me to give a final dance. So with the entire school watching and Indian music blasting, I kicked off my chapels (sandals) and began to dance with fervor.


What I didn’t know was that dancing barefoot on a tile/cement floor that has been baking all day in the Indian sun will burn the bottom of your feet. It will give you two-inch blisters on the balls of your feet to be precise and some extraneous ones on the toes. So after pretending to be completely fine for the benefit of the teachers and students and riding back in the jeep for an hour, I limped my way into the clinic for some icepacks (aka month-old frozen grapes from a friend’s freezer) and for the nurses to dress them.




A friend and I laughed really hard multiple times through the process at the ridiculousness of the whole predicament, and the fact that I would get myself into such a scrape just five days before leaving the country when I am trying to finish so many things and say goodbye. One brother propped me on the back of his bicycle and wheeled me to my dorm when we were finished.


Yesterday I spend most of the day in my room, but today—blisters or no blisters—I am going out, hobbling on the sides of my feet. I am reminded that I must never take anything for granted, even the ability to stand straight on one’s own two feet.

The hope is that I will be able to walk straight by Monday morning when I will have to navigate two airports, two shuttles, and one hotel with three pieces of luggage single-handedly on my way to Laos; although Amy assures me that wrapping my feet in gauze and asking for a wheelchair would be the VIP way to travel. The Indians are hoping that I will be able to dance for them on Sunday. I’m not too sure about that one, but if they ask for a miracle and it comes then I will happily dance my heart out for them again (minus the scalding stage floor).

The proverb of the week: Those that learn to laugh at themselves will never cease to be amused. Believe me, I’m laughing. I hope the pictures bring you all some comic relief as well.