3 posts: traveling and first days in india

I haven’t had internet since coming to India, so this is my backlog of writing. It's been about five days since any kind of outside-of-India communication (sad to say how dependent I am/the rest of the girls on our program find ourselves).This is a crazy-long entry, bear with me :) I'm safe, I'm happy, I'm loving the food, the people, the 75 degree weather, and all of the sights so far. We literally just got set up with internet cards about 30 minutes ago at our program center! 

Can't wait to hear from people at home,

Laura

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2/1/2011. 

Traveling…

Delhi-time: 2:41pm. My body’s internal clock: 10:11am, with only a few hours of sleep from 30-some hours ago. Something like that. Good news: I am happy to report that my both of my bags (yahoo!) and I are in the IGI Delhi airport in the arrival hall where I will meet my group in 5 hours. I’M IN INDIA! And all I want to do is put my head down on this keyboard and nap. But I can’t – part of the nature of traveling alone; gotta watch the bags. The ATMs are having issues, so I don’t have any money, and even if I did I don’t know if I should trust the airport food (I have to get myself into don’t-drink-the-water mode). I have no internet because to use it requires a cell phone to activate the connectivity. I am disconnected. I am excited. I am exhausted. I’m watching groups of 60-something rich white British tourists emerge through customs, exchange pounds for tens of thousands of rupees, and embark with their Indian tour guides through the huge doors and into New Delhi.

But this post is about other things.

We were going up the escalator to the gate platform. It hit me: I was finally going. I must have had some kind of look on my face.

“So this is your first time going to India, yeah?” asked the guy in front of me on the escalator.

“Do I have that ‘first-time-going-to-India-look?”

He grinned. “Yes, actually.”

The past 15 hours had been a total blur. Just that morning I had been in a Madrid McDonalds with Chelsea, mentally triple-checking my bags and getting ready for the next leg of my journey. She dropped me off at the beautiful Atocha train station to rejoin her academic life in Spain, and I was travel ready. Tired, but ready. I never sleep before big trips; just too excited to allow myself more than a few hours of shut-eye.

All of the down time in the Madrid airport, the flight to Heathrow, and the layover time in London left for (FINALLY) lots of time to cram Hindi. And it’s actually going really well – the characters are fairly easy to memorize, and sounding out the letters is simple and so incredibly satisfying when you figure out even a simple word. I still have a long ways to go, and except for a few basic ones I won’t know what the word means once I sound it out, but I can read the sounds, and that feels pretty empowering.

When I got to Heathrow, I found out that I had another few hours of layover added to my time, so I had about 9 hours to kill. It was relaxing. I had a solo dinner in a restaurant that was pretending that it wasn’t in the middle of the busiest airport in the world, and spent the rest of the time on a giant red couch set out of the action.

Hours later, I was on the escalator to the gate when I met Jos. From a town north of London, Jos was headed to a Hindu wedding in Delhi as part of his father’s photography business based in London and India, where each half of his family resides. We got to the platform and sat down together at the gate.

“Long way for a wedding,” I said.

“Clearly you’ve never been to an Indian wedding.”

We chatted for a while and it was time to get on the plane. Jos’ quirky humor and conversation had distracted me enough from anxiety about the journey that I suppose my nerves had been suppressed and shoved down. There was a moment right after my boarding pass was scanned that my reservations found a voice, and screamed in my head: IF YOU DON’T WANT TO GO TO INDIA NOW WOULD BE THE TIME TO TURN AROUND AND RUN, but I gave the voice a mental elbow jab and made my way down the segue. As soon as I was on the plane, it was like being shot with adrenaline, and I felt so ready (well, as ready as you can be for at least another 20 hours of travel).

I have learned now that traveling “alone” on these journeys becomes much less lonely than that feeling of walking away from my parents in airport security. You somehow begin talking to othersand connect through the shared experience of travel and all of the baggage of emotions it brings with it. Over the course of the travels from MadridàLondonàDelhi, I met a host of characters. In addition to my conversations with Jos, on the flight I sat between an Indian woman living in Texas, who helped me with some of my written Hindi, and a French couple from Toulouse who spoke no English. I got involved in a crazy game of telephone when Hindi announcements were made, wherein she would translate for me, and I would turn to the couple and translate for them (the Toulouse accent is beautiful and slow and laid-back and oh-so easy for the girl who hasn’t had French class in a year to understand).

I met others, too: I listened to a global hotel tycoon and a man whose occupation remains unclear but was certainly wealthy as well discuss their craziest experiences of racism as Indians in Moscow airport security, and also complain about how awful it is to fly “anything but first class.” The two of them kept me company in the Delhi airport, and when I told them I was studying public health, the hotel tycoon told me about his son’s Harvard MPH/MD public health degree, and his wife who is an infectious disease public health specialist (what are the chances? – you never know when someone is even going to know what public health is). There was also a particularly funny moment when they asked when I was getting picked up. “You’ve been in the arrival hall waiting all day?! Are we really still that disorganized?” (We, I assume, meaning all of India).

And more: I exchanged pleasantries with an incredibly beautiful Afghani girl my age with her baby, and had a slightly awkward but nice experience sitting in silence with her only Arabic-speaking mother (unfortunately in my sleep deprived state my few statements were pretty lame: “Oh I’ve never met anyone from Afghanistan before” and an awkward moment when I was glad I wasn’t too sleep-drunk to do something completely ridiculous like apologize for the war, although my first thought was about how obnoxious it would be for me to do so. “Sorry about that. No, really.”). I met a woman going to Nigeria to visit her family, and she was from, of all places, Baltimore (small heart-pang for home on that one). And I ended up in conversation with an interesting character originally from the Czech Republic, but living in Canada, and traveling to Mumbai for something Buddhist monk-related. She asked about my trip, and I told her that I had never traveled this far by myself before, or stayed this far away from home for so long. When she asked how long, and I told her 4 months, she laughed out loud.

“Four months?! Why, that’s absolutely nothing! I thought you meant ten years!”

Somehow her mocking tone made me feel a lot better about the challenge. Perspective is everything.

Around 8pm in the arrival hall in Delhi, I got up from my new rich Indian gentlemen-friends to stretch my legs, and ran into my friend Nisha from Tufts who had just gotten in from visiting her grandmother in Hyderabad. She called the people from SIT and they arrived within a few minutes. Our academic director (Azim Khan, who looks exactly like the Indian version of Steve Carrell) and four other teachers for the semester greeted us in our sleepiness with sympathetic smiles, ready to send us in a cab with one of the teachers for the program. We walked through the doors into the nighttime Delhi air, smells, and sounds, got into the cab, and were whisked away into the mayhem of the Indian capital’s thoroughfares. This was it. After all of the build-up: Delhi.

Back in the airport in Heathrow, Jos had given me some final sage advice.

“One more thing, Laura. Don’t fall in love in India.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, expecting some sort of existential response.

“Yeah. Too many blokes looking for passports.”

______

2/2/11

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Assigned Schedule:

7-8: Breakfast at Ashram

830-900: Introductions

930-1030: Health Orientation

11-12: “Burning Questions” session

12-1300: Lunch at Ashram

13-17: Rest at Ashram

1700: Pre-program assignments due

1730: departure for Dilli Haat (art and craft bazaar and dinner)

-

I’m trying to think of words to describe the past 24 hours.

Cold. Hilarious. Delicious. Chai. Buckets. Naps. Expectations. And… Aurobindu.

Cold – When Nisha and I got to the Ashram (basically a donation-run hostel with a devotion aspect – this one is dedicated to a Saint) last night, we quickly unpacked and made a meal out of some chips, bottled water, and whatever her grandmother had slipped into her luggage. As exhausted as we were, we were wired from the trip and the ride through Delhi and the adrenaline that comes from things finally happening. The room is extremely simple and bare-bones, and there was nothing on the beds but a sheet and old pillows. We made do and tried to sleep under jackets, but no one mentioned how freezing it is here without the sun. The whole building is made of cool, smooth stone, clearly built to keep inhabitants cool in the hot Indian summer sun (it looks like a palace in my eyes - perhaps it is just because I am not used to Indian architecture, but I think it’s beautiful). But it was absolutely freezing, and we quickly became popsicles and got very little sleep before our 7am breakfast, when we found out that there are sleeping bags in the closet (and they’re pretty gross – Mom, you wouldn’t be able to stand this, and thank you for making me pack Sue Erickson’s sleep sheet – but at least we’re warm).

Hilarious – the staff are wonderful and so caring, and so funny! Kishore-ji is in charge of logistics, finances, and electronics and will be getting us internet/cell phones in a few days (by the time you read this, obviously). Bhavna-ji is a beautiful, extremely mother-like Indian woman who is co-chair of our Hindi. Gotham-ji is HILARIOUS, and is the other co-teacher for Hindi. Abid-ji is the teacher who rode with us to the Ashram and will teach us the public health course – he has a ton of experience in the field on the logistical side of running clinics, in addition to his extensive education in public health. That leaves Dr. Azim Khan, who is just the friendliest guy. I get the feeling that he is a big deal but is too modest to share his experiences just yet (btw – he’s the one who looks like Steve Carrell, and honestly could give him a run for his money in humor as well). We also went to our clinic and met the doctor for a session on health in Delhi – while it was scary to learn about all of the awful things that could make us sick, it was great to see that they were taking health so seriously and that we’re in such good hands. I wish I could find a doctor like her at home!

Delicious: Everything is amazing. Everything. And this is just Ashram food! Breakfast was chai and curried peas and croissants, lunch was cauliflower cooked in spices with rice and sauce and naan and yogurt, dinner was at the famous Dilli-haat market where I ordered chicken tikka and chai and butter naan. Food will not be an issue. At least, barring illness.

Chai, oh Chai – I like it better than coffee. And I love coffee. Milk and spices and tea boiled together, and so much different from anything labeled as “chai” in the States.

Buckets – I now know how to shower with a nothing but some buckets. Oh yeah. At least Nisha and I lucked out and got a room with a western toilet and toilet paper, and not a hole in the ground with a spray hose instead of toilet paper. We’ve been letting more unfortunate souls on the program use our bathroom.

Naps – my body has no idea what time it is. Fortunately they are understanding of our collective afternoon exhaustion, and let us break for some rest. This evening we went to a famous market in the city called Dilli Haat and I actually thought I was going to pass out.

Expectations – I learned quickly to not have any, i.e., I have to perpetually remind myself that this is INDIA, not AMERICA, and so many things are different here and we have hardly begun to scratch the surface. This moment was solidified for me when staring out the window at the main drag we took to the clinic. I had begun to think “Well this isn’t TOO different from York Road at Timonium or Broadway in Somerville…” And then WE PASSED AN ELEPHANT. It was so aptly timed with my thought process and such a shock that instead of “Oh look everyone, there’s our first of surely many elephant sightings,” I could only manage to point and emit “uuhhahhhhomgomg!” I’m going to take that as a clear sign from above that expectations will get you nowhere in India, and to keep a constant open-mind.

Aurobindu – The guy the Ashram is dedicated too. The reason for the giant sign in the cafeteria that says WASTING FOOD IS A SIN. The guy that apparently did amazing things for the poor in India. We are required to go to a session to learn about him tomorrow. Should be interesting!

Oh, and the girls are cool! We travel by bus from place to place, and so far have tried to switch up the seating a bunch to meet new people. Some know each other from school (like Nisha and myself), others are here and stranger to all. It’s going to be a great group.

More soon – It’s been a long day, and other than the new-ness, nothing too notable to describe in detail.

Breakfast is at 7am, and I can already smell the Chai…

(omg, I’m in India),

Laura

_________

2/3/11

7-8: Breakfast at Ashram

8-9: Introduction to the teachings of Sri Aurobindu

930-1230: Preparing to Live and Study in India by David Peace

1230-1310: Lunch at Ashram

1330-1630: Visit to Raj Ghat (where Gandhi is interred)

1900-2000 Dinner at Ashram

I woke up this morning at 4:30 and tried to coax my EST body back to sleep to no avail. And… I felt sick. I skipped out on breakfast and it fortunately didn’t get any worse, but it was definitely scary and a reminder to be uber cautious and, well, paranoid about not eating the wrong stuff or using the water (this morning I forgot and tossed some grapes into my mouth. Whoops).

Also, it’s still so cold here whenever you’re not in the sun. In the sun, it’s easily 75 or 80. In the shade or at night, it plummets to North Face Fleece weather (so happy I didn’t leave my jacket/warm clothes with Chelsea or ship them home!!). We all were taken by surprise on that one – wasn’t India supposed to be super-hot, all of the time? Not so.

We had a session with an Ashramite this morning that I expected (and I think the program staff expected) to be a talk on Sri Aurobindu (the guy the Ashram is dedicated to) and his life work and mission, and how the Ashram works. Not so – the older man spent about an hour telling us about his entire life philosophy. Probably the coolest part was about the difference between “happiness” and “joy and love” and how true joy and love must be sustained from within… it was… unexpected, and a lot for our early morning ears that were expecting more of a talk about how the Ashram is sustained, but it was cool overall. He offered to tour us around the Ashram another time, and offered more spiritual sessions… I think we’ll be taking him up on the former rather than the latter if we get a chance.

We then had a session with David Peace, a guy from a consulting firm that trains Americans for living in India and Indians for living in America. It was a three-hour long affair, but was extremely helpful for discussing culture shock, politeness, and just general cultural differences. He was a great speaker, and really relate-able (other than the fact that he has lived in India for 15 years) as he has kids our age studying abroad. My parents would have liked him a lot.

The group dynamic was better today, and I spent a lot of time getting to know new people. There are some extremely well-traveled, adventurous people on this trip! Talking to them about their experiences all over the world is making me feel more confident about this experience in Delhi.

We had a quick lunch at the Ashram and then left for Raj Ghat, the final resting place of Mahatma Gandhi, after he was cremated in 1948. Inscribed on the large black marble table above his remains are his parting, final words: “Hey Ram!” which generally translates to “Oh God!” The spot is famous for being the beginning visit for international politicians and dignitaries touring India. It was our first time in central Delhi, and we passed the India Gate as well (iconic for Delhi – like the Eiffel Tower for Paris) and got our first glimpses of downtown.

There were hundreds of schoolchildren at Raj Ghat, and for the first time, we realized what a spectacle we are as eighteen white female students traveling together in a group. About 200 fourth grade girls came up to shake our hands, many pulling out cell phone cameras. Another couple jumped in a group shot of us and had a photographer snap a quick picture. Gotham-ji and Bhavna-ji were quick to dispel the situations we found ourselves in, and it’s not like anything felt dangerous, but it was weird to be interpreted in this way. It took me a while to digest what happened today, and Nisha and I talked about it for a long time tonight. It got me thinking about everything I learned and experienced in and as a part of Race in America this fall. Our “popularity” stemmed directly from the color of our skin and any kind of notion these kids had about white people to begin with. I’m not going to judge others’ reactions to it because none of us had ever seen something like that before or expected anything like it to happen, but I know some of us were really uncomfortable taking pictures with them like so many children were asking us to do. Others were not, and can better see it as harmless. It seems like a question with no real answer: when all of these little kids are holding out their hands and you’re having an internal battle with “cultural tourism,” what do you do? It can be argued that the momentary contact of shaking 18 white girls’ hands or taking a cell phone picture of them brings these kids some kind of happiness, so why wouldn’t you be ok with it, but then again, aren’t we just perpetuating the idea that because of our whiteness, we are somehow “special” or better than they are? Walking away from the incident, one person turned to me and said “now I know how zoo animals feel.” But if we’re snapping photos to show people back home without really getting a chance to know these girls, who are the real “zoo animals?” I’m sure that this will not be an isolated event and this thought process will be revisited.

We got back to the Ashram and I completely passed out. I really need to be better about this napping issue… we’re all on such weird sleeping schedules. Nisha and I woke up right before dinner to Gotham-ji knocking on our door. Whoops.

Nisha, another girl from Tufts named Caroline and I went walking around the Ashram tonight and checked out the Shrine to Aurobindu out back. We spent a while just stretching our legs and taking in the gorgeous Ashram at night.

Tomorrow is our first day at the program center, and hopefully when we’ll be getting our internet cards (they look like USB drives and will provide access wherever there is cell service). We’ll also have our academic orientation.

Thanks for reading!! I can’t wait to hear from people,

Laura

ALSO: If you get a chance, see the film “Gandhi” that came out a few years ago. I watched it on the plane. It’s crazy long (about three hours), but so entertaining, and gives you an incredible look at the life of someone so influential (Dad – you’d really like this). I feel like I only ever thought about Gandhi as such a peaceful figure, but his power and snarky attitude were things I had never attributed to him before. Netflix it!