India

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Review of Arthur J. Frankel's (India 1966-68) Indian Summer: A Love Letter to India and the Story of India 29
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Thirty Years Later

Review of Arthur J. Frankel's (India 1966-68) Indian Summer: A Love Letter to India and the Story of India 29

Indian Summer: A Love Letter to India and the Story of India 29 by Arthur J. Frankel (India 1966-68) AuthorHouse $29.95 (hardback),20.66 (paperback), $7.99 (Kindle) 299 pages 2014 Reviewed by Tony D’Souza (Ivory Coast 2000-02, Madagascar 2002-03) ARTHUR J. FRANKEL’S Indian Summer: A Love Letter to India and the Story of India 29 tells the tale of the Peace Corps experience during one of its earliest periods, when the agency was just figuring out how best to prepare Americans for two years abroad, as well as place them once in country. Frankel’s group, which served in India from 1966–1968, coincidentally included my mother, then Alice Neuendorf, age 27. Though she’s never mentioned in the book, her blurry picture appears in the black and white photo section, standing in a white dress with other Volunteers in front of a Bangalore guesthouse. She’s told me stories about that guesthouse all my life, . . .

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Thirty Years Later

by Barbara Carey (India 1966-68) This essay was originally published July 2001 on PeaceCorpsWriters.org, and received the Moritz Thomsen Award in 2002. • “I DON’T UNDERSTAND what is ‘first class’” about this train car, my husband said. I looked around at the dirty, rusty old car, with bent bars on the open window, red betel juice stains on the walls, and the single hard seat in the small cabin. I looked through the bars to the bustling train station, with hawkers, beggars, food and magazine stalls, travelers, crying children, hungry dogs, and all the noise that went along with the bustling activity in the humid Bombay afternoon. I could smell the pungent odor that is always present in India — a combination of rotting garbage, sweaty bodies, and smoke from dung fires. The sights, sounds and smells were coming back to me after thirty years of being away. I suddenly . . .

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