Time for a change of scenery

My last full day in India. This has been the longest I’ve spent here after a camp. It’s

really been enjoyable. I feel it’s the first time when I’m able to be on my own in India and explore it without being managed by others or had 40 Afghans connected to me. India can be an overwhelming place, but I have come to appreciate it and really like it. The people are wonderful, the food is great and there are so many beautiful places to see.
Being kicked out of Turkmenistan has not been a shining moment in my career and it upsets me

that I’ve let my colleagues there down. Yet everything happens for a reason. Maybe I’m just not cut out for living in repressive regimes. I don’t know whhat’s going to happen next but I do know it’s going to be all right. Maybe this is a sign to finish my book as I promised myself (yes I think that’s a plan). Given free time to roam about the world for a bit is great. I’m looking forward to two weeks in Ethiopia visiting Bob and Denis. I really know little about Ethiopia and am looking forward to exploring this new and exciting place. Not everyone looks at Ethiopia as such a place but it should be a great trip. In a few hours I’m off to the Ethiopian embassy to get my visa and tomorrow it’s goodbye Delhi and hello Addis Ababa!
I found out on Friday morning that my yellow fever shot was out of date and I needed a new

one. So I furtively searched the Internet looking for places in Delhi to do that, which there were but none on Mondays (my only day to do it). In a blog entry, there was a doctor in Chandighar, 4 hours away, that does yellow fever shots, so I called him found out where he was located at 1 pm was on a bus down the hill to Chandighar. Now the last thing I wanted to do on my last day in Shimla was spent most of the day on a bus, but this was important and needed to be done. Plus after a week up in the hills, I needed an adventure. The bus flew down the winding roads though villages and towns, filling our half empty bus with more and more passengers. By the time we got down to the bottom in Kalka, the place was packed. At the bus station in Chandighar, I negotiated a car to take me to Dr. Gupta’s clinic and then back to Shimla and off I went. Dr. Gupta is a pediatrician who also provides yellow fever vaccinations to wandering foreigners like myself. His office is tucked upstairs in a shopping center, very clean and nice. At 2,800 rupees a shot, the yellow fever business can be very lucrative. So after four hours on a bus, I had 15 minutes with Dr. Gupta and then was back on my way up the mountain to Shimla. My driver was a young guy named Ishan. His English was not great but we practiced along the way up the twisty, winding roads. He has a nasty sounding girlfriend who kept calling and yelling at him. I told him I’s throw the phine out the window if she kept calling or talk to her myself. He seems like a nice guy and doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. He told me all she wants is money (which he doesn’t have a lot of), I told him to get rid of her.
Ishan is from Dharamsala but has come down to Chandighar to be a driver. He’s been here for about a year, and doesn’t really like it. He’s always working and earns a mere 7,000 rupees a month (about $125). I guess that’s good in some places but with a rent and other things, it doesn’t leave him a lot left over. He dreams of going “foreign place” as he says, like Australia or Europe to work, but his English is not so good. Along the way we stopped for dinner at McDonald’s, my treat. It’s probably the first time he’s been invited to dinner with a client, sitting at the same table, and havng the client pay for it. He deserved it. We arrived in Shimla around 10:00 and he had to turn around and go back down the hill, poor guy. We met a friend of his along the way who was driving some people up, so at least he had some company on the way back down.
On my last morning in Shimla, I wanted one last walk up to the Jakhoo Temple to pray to

Hanuman. Early to rise and up the hill I went huffing and puffing along the way through the forest. This mountain air takes something out of me. Got up to the top amid lots of monkey activity around the main temple. They were jockeying for a prime position, and the dogs were barking at them to keep them at bay. It was breakfast time and they were looking for a handout of halwa or some other treat from the worshippers. While sititng on a bench, suddenly a monkey leapt up and snatched my glass off my face. I looked over at this monkey by a tree, my glasses dangling in his hand. There’s a trick to getting them back—you give the monkey something else and they drop the thing they’ve snatched from you. So one man handed the monkey a bit of food and voila he dropped my glasses and ran off with the food instead. Clever little system they have figured out.

The small café I usually have tea at was open and advertised breakfast, of which there was nothing really exciting (Instant noodles for breakfast? Yuck). So I opted for tea and one last quiet moment up on the hill. My solitude was not to be for I was almost immediately joined by a Hindu wise man who had eyed me inside the temple and tried to get me to sit with him. He was one of those devout Hindus who roams form temple to temple, living off the kindness of others. Harmelss yet a little crazy. His robes were of white and orange and his hair was long and matted in the back. The café worker eyed him suspiciously as if him knew the man’s story and didn’t want him bothering me, but he was really benign. He sat with me and offered me some halwa and channa. If I couldn’t have pranthas for breakfast, I might as well have so halwa. He told me he has two brothers in Chicago and that’s about all he could tell me in English. We took a picture together, I ate osme of his food, finished my tea and was off down the hill to go pack and get to my train.
One of the highlights of coming or going to Shimla is the toy train that takes you up and down the hill. Built by the British, this little train winds its way up and down the mountain. It

really is a pleasant train ride as you rumble slowly through the forests and small towns. It evokes the time of the Raj and in a way you are transported back to a different India. The journey is slow, about 5.5 hours but overall is worth it. In tiny cars you get to meet others and enjoy the scenery. By the last hour

everyone seems to be over the trip and ready to get off, but for most of the time, it’s a great train trip. At the end of the line in Kalka, I had about two hours to spare before my train to Delhi, so I had a

bite to eat and sat around people watching. It was a beautiful time to be on the station platform, in the late afternoon with the sun making its way down towards evening. I really enjoyed that time on the platform watching the different people go by. The train to Delhi was quite comfortable and they

amount of food they served was amazing. It seemed like every 10 minutes they were giving us something to eat; snacks with tea, soup, dinner, ice cream, a bottle of water. It was great. Arriving in Delhi, a driver I met last week, Ashok, came to pick me up at the station and take me to the Vishal, my home in Delhi. Some tandoori chicken and a cold beer and I was ready for bed. A nice ending to an enjoyably long day!

I go out walkin' after report writing...

Walk, walk, walk. How I love to walk around Shimla. My legs ache in a good way form all the

walking I do here. Up the hills, down the hills, along the Ridge, it’s great exercise for me. Yesterday, after an extensive report writing section, I went up to have lunch at Ashiana restaurant, a lovely round building with views of the whole town and the valleys below. After that I set off toward the Glen, a quiet spot in the forest about 3 or 4 kms away. Down a windy road through the forest, it was lovely to be somewhere in India with little to no noise. A car, bus or motorcycle would pass now and then but for the most part all I heard was the wind through the

trees. Below me I could see Annandale, the former racetrack and polo grounds of the British, now used for cricket playing. It took about 45 mins. To reach the Glen, and it was worth it. Tall pine trees mark this spot along a hill, a path winding down into the thick cluster of scented pines. I made my way down the path for a bit until I found a bench to rest on. Finally, a place in India where one could be alone in his thoughts with no noise and no other

human being around. All I had was the sun shinng on my face and the wind making a gentle soft noise through the needles on the trees. The British used to say this place reminded them of Scotland and I could see that. Hilly, craggy with lovely views—yeah I’ve been to Scotland, I could see that.
After sitting and contemplating the peacefulness of this spot, I made my way back up the winding road toward the hustle and bustle of humanity. There was some sort of protest going on by the Shimla governent building, which blocked the road so the closer to the top of the hill I

got, the more cars were standing beeping and honking trying to get through. People were yelling and protesting about who knows what and the police were all around. Quite the contrast to my quiet solitude of 30 mins before. Along the way back, two college boys joined me as I walked up toward the Mall. They had just finished an exam and were going up to the Mall to hang out. We exchanged names, where are we from, what do they study and all the general pleasantries. Then one of them asks me how often I have sex in New York. A rather direct question to which I replied, “That’s a rather personal question.” Then I asked him how often he had sex in India to which he replied “Once.” I told the young man that he was the second person to ask me about having sex in America. He told me he read some things on the Internet about all the sex people have in the U.S., to which I replied, “People have sex all over the world.” To which he giggled and replied, “Well not in India.” To which I just laughed and changed the subject. When we got to the Mall I bid them adieu and continued on to my hotel for a bit of a rest and to enjoy some strawberries on my balcony and watch the sunset.
Heading up to the Embassy for a lamb dinner, I noticed a big temple all lit up on the

hillside. What was this fabulous diadem blazing in the night skyline? I must go see this place! So after dinner I made my way through the narrow lower streets of Shimla to find this temple. Most of the shops were closed oas I made my way throught the Lower Bazaar but a few stores and

little restaurants beckoned people in the darkness. Some boys were playing cricket in the middle of the road at one point, people going up and down the narrow stairways that link the levels of

streets here. Further I carried on until I saw some men hanging the sparkly gold garlands above the street. This was a sure sign that I was on the right path. I followed the road, with the garlands as my guide down until I came to my destination. The temple was all lit up like a house at Christmas
time, ablaze in the night. I walked around it taking pictures, basking in its warm light. As I made my way back up the hill, I ran into a procession of holy men heading toward this temple.

They were lead by their main pandit, whose picture I saw on the temple archway. We smiled and bowed at each other as we passed in the road. Further up I repeated this as I passed the local mosque on a stairway heading up to the Mall.

Shimla is really beautiful at night and after dinner it’s great to take a stroll on the Mall to check things out. Christ Church is all lit up and high on the hill Hanuman is aglow and watching over all of us. This place closes down early and by 9/9:30, the streets roll up. So as they rolled up, I rolled

down the hill to my hotel, buying some bananas and strawberries from the fruit vendor who was still out there selling his wares. A few more days here and it’s time to head back down the hill to the big city. Until then I’ll relish every minute here.

British Colonial Dreams

Sunset on my balcony again, day 4 of my time in this magical place called Shimla. I’ve just

spent the last few hours walking from my hotel to the Vice Regent Lodge about 4 kms away. I can see it perching up on the hillside opposite my balcony, there in the distance, black against the setting sun. It’s a lovely old place, Scottish baronial they call it. Very majestic and reminiscent of the British

Raj days. Now it houses the Institute of Advanced Studies and is a quiet place for PhD students to research their theses. I took in the tour of the place, seeing the table where they partitioned Pakistan and India, and trying to imagine what it was like back then in the colonial days. Walking the gardens, I wondered who I would be if I lived back then. Would I be the

Viceroy’s wife looking out the window of this lodge at a rainstorm in the distance, or a civil servant diligently going over his books, or a military man trotting around in his uniform atop his mighty horse. Would I look at the Indians as people or as lowly servants that wait on me? Would they be my friends or just people in the back ground as I went about my business. Those

were my thoughts as I wandered through the woods on my way back slowly contemplating colonial matters as the soft afternoon colors painted the sky. A cold wind blew up and the skies turned grey, threatening a rainstorm but it seemd to pass Shimla and dropped its raindrops somewhere else. The mix of smoke and incense wafted through the air as I made my way along the Ridge, past the Kali Mari temple and up to Scandal Point, the peak of Shimla.
There’s an old decrepit house up there, abandoned, rotting, holding on to its former glory

that I like to stop and look at. It reminds me somewhat of Grey Gardens and I half expect the Indian version of Big and Little Edie to come out and talk to me as I stop to gaze in the broken windows and open doorways. I try to imagine what happiness was had in this house, the parties, the different people who lived in over the years and the last people who lived there and the final day they left. Was it hard for them to leave? Were they forced out for some reason? Did

the last person leave happily or sadly? Who knows, I guess I can research it and find out. But there are reports to write, essays and surveys to look over. Plus I like to imagine what happened there—it makes it more interesting.
The darkness comes and the hillside begins to sparkle. There are loud voices down below and I’m half tempted to tell them to shut up. Man some people are loud. So far I’m doing my best to tune them out but a young boy yelling for his mother and father in a harsh, demanding tone is

hard to ignore. I think he’s gone quiet for now—phew! Will I dine in this evening or go out somewhere. I mixed it up today and had lunch at Nalini, the vegetarian restaurant. Maybe I’ll dine at the Embassy or the Ashiana. We’ll see. The moon is about ½ full and the first star is

visible right below it (remind me which one is that?). I’ve just made my wish: Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may I wish I might on the first star I see tonight. Closing my eyes, I send my wish out into the world and hope it comes true. Simultaneously my Afghans are looking up back at home at the same moon and star. They’ll be finishing their evening prayers about now and I wonder if they’ll be looking up at the same moon and star, making their own wishes. It;’s the one thing that keeps us connected tonight. May my wish find its way to all of them and to the others that were included in that wish.

Shimla walks...

Seems it got cold today here in Shimla. The sky is overcast and the sun is not shining as it

was yesterday at this time. Oh well, can’t control the weather, it does what it wants to do and we must adjust to it. The hillside I can see from my window seems to be coming alive, with voices, crows cawing, music blaring from somewhere as another day dawns. I meant to get up and walk this morning but somehow I’m not in the mood for it. I walked my feet off yesterday, first in the morning doing a healthy walk down the Mall, along the Ridge to the other end of town. It seems

the thing to do here early in the morning, lots of people doing a morning walk back and forth through town. I did an hour walk and then plopped myself at the Indian Coffee House for breakfast. It’s a nice old place with comfy seats and woodened paneled walls. Very old school

and classy. For the first time I had coffee, since the Indian Coffee House doesn’t serve tea (well who knew?!?). I feared that drinking coffee after so long would make me bananas but it didn’t. The quality was a bit above Nescafe, so I was fine.
Most of my days here will be spent writing three reports for my jobs. I break up the writing

by taking walks around town, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. My afternoon walk has been up to the Jakhoo Temple, a steep climb up a hill through the woods to the temple honoring Hanuman, the Monkey God. It’s hard to miss it given the giant orange statue that looms high above the trees that can be seen from down below in town. He watches over all of us as if to

protect Shimla and its people from harm. Legend has it that Hanuman dropped a sandal on this hilltop as he was flying by and thus it has becom a revered place. Another version has it that he stopped to rest here after his big battle with Raven the evil king in Sri Lanka. I like Hanuman, he is becoming a favorite of mine, right after Ganesh. He is brave and strong and seems to help people when things are not going their way. I like to hike up and get support

from the Monkey God in these contemplative days of mine.

I like to go pray at the temple, sit and think about what's going to happen next. It helps me to know that everything will be all right.
Of course what is a temple to a Monkey God without monkeys. Lots of monkeys! They are interesting creatures and sometimes when I look at them, I can see a bit of human in them.

Emotions in their eyes, the way they walk, lay around, communicate—it’s just like us really, just on a more primitive level. They lounge around picking bugs off each other, hiss and scream, chase each other from a marked territory, fight over food, love their young, play with

each other--so interesting to watch them. If you’re not careful, they will snatch your things and carry them off. The other day, one monkey snatched a man’s glasses and went up on the roof

with them. He offered the monkey something else and the monkey dropped the glasses and grabbed the other thing, quite a clever way of getting your specs back I must say. After visiting the temple, I stop for a cup of tea at the Shri Mahavir Café before heading down. It’s a nice place

to watch people and enjoy the sunset up on the hill.
My favorite place to eat thus far is the Embassy Restaurant, a peaceful little place with a

gorgeous view of the town. The dining area is perfect in the afternoon when the sun fills the space, shining in from the small little windows that take up most of the walls. It’s a glorious

place to sit and eat delicious home cooked meals served up by the proprietor, a lovely man who is a devotee of Krishnamurti. The restaurant is covered with little stories, quotes and anecdotes from lots of people both famous and not famous so it’s a nice distraction as you sip

your banana lassi and wait for your food. It’s my lunch spot and I’m sure by the end of the week I will have tried everything on the menu. As I pay the bill, the kind gentleman tries to get me in to a philosophical discussion and talk at length on Krishnamurthi, which I entertain

for a few minutes before I carry on my day.
It seems like a good day to stay indoors today. Bit overcast and cold, possibly rain later on? Well, in any case I have oodles of work to do and I can’t exhaust my fingertips blogging all day. May today be a productive day so I can spen more time enjoying later in the week.

Post-Camp Entry

Sitting on my balcony overlooking Shimla as dusk turns to evening time. It looks like a black

sari with all its sparkles and spangles glittering orange, white, red, green and yellow. Cars move slowly along the narrow roads coming up the hills in and out of town. Horns honk, voices can be heard in the dark, a faucet runs down below somewhere. After a month of intensity at camp, there is peace and quiet and a whole week of reflecting on what happened this past month.
Camp ended on a great note 2 days ago, and amid teary eyes, my students, staff and I all said good bye after a fantastic month together. The kids worked really hard and while there was some doubts about their progress now and then, in the end they came together as a group of future leaders for their country. This is only the beginning for them and I look forward to hearing about all the fantastic things they will be doing back in their communities. The youth of Afghanistan are the ones who will change their country and despite what happens there, I for one

know that there is a bright future ahead.
The end of camp is always a bunch of mixed emotions for me. All at once the students are gone and there is a quiet that is almost deafening, taking up the space where there was loud chatter, laughter and teenage noise. It’s like a sudden death with the immediate shock of not having that person be there. I am also happy for I know that my staff and I have done our job well, and it shows in all the thank you cards, letters and emails I get from my students. I am also relieved that the intense month is over and finally I can relax for a while. Now, perching on my balcony in Shimla, I can process the highlights and the challenges of the month as I write my final report.
Below me lies the valley that stretches out beyond the horizon. It is like my life right now,

open, vast and nothing planned. I was awoken from the dream that was Wonderland and cannot get back to sleep so as to return to it. With that sudden conciousness, my life is adrift towards a point not yet recognized but there are places along the way. After Shimla, I’m flying off to Ethiopia for two weeks to see my friends Bob and Denis and explore another country in Africa. I

haven’t read up much about it but I will once I get there. After Ethiopia, I’m flying back home to my Brooklyn abode for a while to do some housework, gardening and snuggling of Lulu. After that, who knows what is in store for Mr. Tom Toomey but I know it’s all in a bigger plan already designed for me. Everything happens for a reason and in its own time, just like that first bright star twinkling above me right now.

High in the mountains at McLeod Ganj

A soft morning rain comes down high in the mountains of Northern India. The gentle drops and

the cawing of some crows seem to be the only sound I hear on my balcony in McLeod Ganj. Seems quite fitting given this is the center of Tibetan Buddhism. So peaceful, fresh air to clear the moind and reenergize for the next part of camp. A dog scampers down to a neighboring hotel annex to eat from the scraps off a tray that someone has left outside their door. He finds some bones to chew on, knocks over and breaks a glass, pees on a rose bush and is gone. My teaching crew and I have left our brood of Afghans and hectic pace of camp for 2 days up here in Mcleod Ganj. We were supposed to be meeting with the Dalai Lama but embassies and politics got in the way of that. I suppose the Buddhist idea of everything in its own time will help calm me down about

missing out on this unique opportunity. Next camp. I consider this time here to be reflective, relaxing, and reconnaissance for the next time I come up here with 40 Afghans in tow.
We arrived yesterday afternoon after making the zig zagging trip up the narrow roads to McLeod Ganj, the high altitude giving us a spinning sensation in our heads. After checking in to the Spring Valley Resort and eating some lunch, we walked down to town, looking in all the shops, stopping at a Buddhist temple to spin the prayer wheels, making our way down to the main

Buddhist temple. As the sun set, we walked clockwise around the main temple with all the monks in their crimson robes. Daniel and I went into one of the temples and I showed him how the Buddhists pray. His little hands clasped together and bowing his head in front of the altar—

very sweet. On the way back up the hill, we stopped for food at the Kailash Roof Beer Bar and Restaurant where we snacked on all sorts of food: Chinese, Italian, Tibetan and Indian, all downed by some cold

Kingfisher beer. After some dessert in the main square of town, very happening at 9pm, we grabbed osme rickshaws and sped up the hill to our hotel. Another beer and some more laughs together and we were off to bed. A peaceful sleep in a soft bed with thick warm blankets to keep out the cold of the night. I slept like a baby.

Claire and I were up first on this quiet Sunday morning in Mcleod Ganj. We had some breakfast downstairs and then went to explore up the hill, while the others slept. Up the road was a hotel with a spa offering massages and other treatments. We were keen on having a colon cleansing treatment but that needs more than one day, so I made an appointment for a massage in

the afternoon and Claire decided to look elsewhere.
After the others awoke and were ready to start the day, we headed up the hill to a Hindu temple and a waterfall high up the hill behind it. Daniel was too tired to make it the whole way, so I got the pleasure of carrying him on my shoulders most of the way up the winding path to the waterfall. After our hike up to the waterfall, we mingled in the shops near our hotel

and had a very slowly served lunch at the German Bakery restaurant. After lunch we had some down time, I went for my massage, which was made even more relaxing by a heavy rain storm that passed over for most of it.
Dinner was across the street at Vikas’s restaurant. Vikas is a local hotleier/restraunteur who organizes stays for people wanting to volunteer up here. We met him the night before as we were buying some chips and other snacks in his shop. He had some Brits and an Italian arriving and

invited us to dinner with all of them. He will probably be a good contact for me if I can come up here again with my students in September, by putting some volunteer activities together for us.
By Monday morning, we were enjoying our time off from camp so much we didn’t want to go back.

But all good things must come to an end and away we went down the hill back to our Afghan students who were eagerly awaiting our return. Before leaving I bought one of the crimson shawls the monks wear, which seemed to have disappeared between the car and my room upon our arrival back at camp. I’ve searched everywhere for it and haven’t found it anywhere, much to my dismay. It was a $4 shawl

but I loved it so much and am baffled at how it could just disappear in such a short space of time. I continue to have faith that it will turn up, probably at the end of camp. Like a future visit with the Dalai Lama, I hold on to the tassles of that red shawl, not ready to let go of it, keeping hopeful that it will turn up, just as I am hopeful that I will get that private audience again with HHDL.

Morning Freeze in the Afghan Capital

5 a.m. in my freezing cold hotel room at the Sufi Inn in Kabul. I have a steaming cup of tea next to me and am wrapped up in my patou and flannel PJs to keep warm. The electric heaters by my bed give some warmth but not enough to want to get out of bed. The big snowstorm that hit Kabul last week sent temperatures plunging way below zero and has left the city in a beautiful blanket of snow. Although the snow makes the city look lovely, it has been treacherous getting through icy streets and travel around the city is taking longer than usual. Yesterday, my group and I lumbered down an icy, rutted street in a small bus swerving and sliding slowly, trying not to slip sideways into another car or tip over completely.
Here I am again in Kabul, running a workshop for my students who came to my leadership camp last October. We call this a follow up workshop to see how they are doing after their experiece in India last year, and give them new skills and ideas for their work with youth in their communities. Since the kids have not seen each other for the past 5 months, they love being together again. Today is day 2 of the workshop and so far, so good.
Next week I am off to India to run another Youth Solidarity and English Language (YSEL) camp for a month. I’m very excited about this camp and am looking forward to a great month. I’ve already met some of the kids who are coming and they are looking forward to a fun month of learning. The biggest highlight of camp was to be a private audience with the Dalai Lama that I had arranged but some high muck-a-mucks in the US embassy freaked out about it and put the kibosh on it. I was so pissed off about it! Instead of looking at it as a learning experience for some Afghan youth, it had to be politicized by some idiots. Still I haven’t cancelled the appointment, so maybe my staff and I will go up and say hello. Details to follow.
So what about Turkmenistan you may ask. Well, all is quiet on that front as we await the outcome of the presidential elections (a no brainer there) and then maybe the Ministry of Education will grant me access back in to the country. Hopefully by the end of March when my camp ends I will get OK’d to go back in and continue my work there. Fingers crossed. In the meantime I have been getting up at 6 a.m. every day to talk to my office staff in Ashgabat and help then navigate our new program together. Now that I’m in Kabul, I don’t have to get up so early to talk with them since we are an hour’s time difference.
Somewhere in the distance I hear a rooster crowing. That poor thing must be cold if it’s out on the street. I think of all those poor people in the refugee camps around town that are trying to keep as warm as possible in these harsh conditions. Already many small children in the camps have frozen to death, such a shame. I hope it gets warmer soon. Yesterday seemed a bit warmer but still it gets so cold in the night. There is a large space heater like they have in outdoor restaurants in our dining space, which has become out main hanging out spot in the evenings. We all encircle it with our chairs and talk, sing and tell stories after dinner. It sort of happened naturally, no one planned it like that, and it’s a nice place to be. Last night we got a little carried away with our singing and a lady from London called the front desk to complain. So we’ll have to watch our singing in the future.
I have not heard the call to prayer yet this morning, as I usually do. Maybe I slept through it or it is too cold to go to the mosque. In a few hours we will begin our workshop with morning song, a few warm up games and then talk about the Bill of Rights (our theme for the day). We will look at the American Bill of Rights, the Afghan Bill of Rights and then create our own Bill of Rights. All in a day’s work. I’m going to take this quiet morning time now to get ready, catch up on some email and take advantage of the Internet while everyone is asleep (it’s faster early in the a.m.).