Michelle Bastin

The weather here is just as bipolar as Utah’s weather. One moment the children and you are sweating buckets of sweat while the sun turns your nose lovely red colors, then sheets of rain just come pouring down.

Mom dad, don’t be surprised if I come home with an Indian child hidden in my bag. These kids are the sweetest things. They always say thank you and they are grateful for the simplest of things. For example, yesterday we made masks, then today one of the kids, who could not be more than five, was still holding onto his mask like I used to hold on to my security blanket.

The culture here is definitely different than in Utah. Our first night in Chamba I woke up around five, to drums and chanting in the distance. Now with a thunderstorm going along side of the chanting and the drumming, one can get pretty freaked out. Turns out it was the villagers just saying their morning prayers.

Can’t really say that I miss Utah, but I do miss you mom and dad. See you in 11 days.