Temples

Templing, verb, gerund of to temple, meaning to visit multiple temples in a short period of time, after which they all begin to blur together, also see churching, as in visiting multiple churches, such as in Europe

My parents and I have spent the last few days templing. We drove several hours from our friends’ house to some smaller towns to visit some very old, very famous temples. (One temple was compared to the Parthenon in Athens for its importance, age, and detail.) They are amazing and intricate and filled with tiny features. Hundreds of elephants and pillars and dancing women, none of them exactly the same. One temple dedicated to Shiva, one to Vishnu. The intricacies escaped me, but I do know by heart that god means generator, operator, destroyer.

I have posed for many more photos than I can count, most with children, but some with adults. All are fascinated by my differentness. I definitely stand out, with my blond hair, white skin, height, lacking attempts at matching their clothing, English, etc. The swarms of school children can get quite intense, when every single one wants to shake my hand and ask me my name and how I am. I’ve taken to waving and saying “Hi,” while walking by, but not stopping for too long.

The same holds for the shop owners and people selling guidebooks on the sides of streets. Eye contact is dangerous, as it seems to indicate interest in their wares. So far I’ve gotten only one kurta (a longish shirt that can be worn over jeans or legging or baggy pants) and a miniature carving of Ganesh from outside the second temple.

Taking naps and going slowly has been wonderful. It’s nice to be slightly more removed from the intense activity of the big city. The waiters at our hotel are so patient with us, answering our questions the best they can, and making sure we’re well-stocked with tissues for the upcoming spiciness. 

Boxing Day

Random observations and such:

I can't quite tell whether it's been a long or short time since I've been in India. The jet lag plus finals plus fatigue from the whole semester plus hard goodbyes all cumulated for a vaguely out-of-body experience my first few days here.

I arrived at our friends' home around 4:30 am on December 23rd. On Christmas Eve, we went shopping and had dinner out. Christmas Day was spent chilling. My parents and I exchanged cards, but that was about it for the Christmas traditions. Overall it felt much more like Christmas when I was back in Grinnell, listening to music, with snow on the ground.

And today we went for a hike up this huge rock (literally just a ginormous rock that sticks randomly out of the landscape) that afforded amazing views of the city and surrounding countryside. Combine that exercise with that required to move out of my third-floor dorm room a week ago, and I think I'm pretty much set on exercise for a couple months.

Today was the first day that I felt like I was aware enough to start to absorb some of this country. While we were driving to the rock, it really hit me that I was in India. Although I've been here before, I'm realizing that I really don't remember much from eight years ago, and that my experience now is quite different, both because of where I am and who I'm with, but also because of who I am now.

I made the choice before I left the states to not bring my camera with me. It was weird, traveling without it, knowing I'd be seeing amazing things that I would want to document. And while I do miss it, and am still framing shots in my mind, there's something nice about not being able to document everything. When I'm not preoccupied with getting the shot and recording everything in sight, I'm able to just sit with it and absorb it in a very different way.

The first morning when I came downstairs after sleeping for a few hours, it took a second for my mind to register that breakfast was being eaten both on the floor and with hands. In my sleep-deprived state, it didn't seem like that big a deal, so I sat down and joined right in. And it's really not a big deal. That's just how things are done here. It's fun, to have societal permission to lick my fingers after every delicious meal (because ohmygoodness the food).

Most impressive statistic so far: thirteen mosquito bites on one foot.

And proof I'm alive:

Somewhere over Greenland (or Iceland)

I write this as I am somewhere over Greenland, or Iceland, I think. I have no idea where Labrador City is without Google. But that is where my handy-dandy little computer screen tells me we are. Along with the hours left to go in the flight (10 hours and 1 minute - I’m being a cheerleader for myself and focusing on the two hours down part), the altitude (30999 feet), outside air temperature (-55*C - my brain cannot comprehend this or begin to convert it into F), and our speed (549 mph). Maybe it’s just been a while since I’ve flown internationally, but man this place is fancy.

I was hoping for maybe some Disney or Animal Planet, since that’s what I remember from my last transatlantic flight. But oh no! I have been served dinner, I have my own computer in front of me that will play me movies and TV shows and music or let me play computer games, I have been provided with a toothbrush, earplugs, blanket, pillow, and eye mask. I am living the life up here.

It’s weird how strong my urge has been to discover one of these new wonders and immediately message a friend. But that’s what I do. When good things happen, I want to share them. This trip, it appears, will be a practice in less-instant communication. Even though I’m typing to you, you will probably not read this until I am already settled into my hosts’ home in India.

I can already feel the culture shock beginning. The shock in general began when I deplaned in Chicago and promptly discovered that although the screens told me that my gate was M10, there were no signs pointing me to the M concourse. It took me asking three workers, looking deliberately lost once, and an extremely kind man who took his break to show me to the train that would take me to concourse 5, apparently the international concourse, to locate my destination. I was then informed that I needed to re-check-in (where I smugly informed the man that no, I did not need to check any baggage) (but then he informed me that my flight was already boarding and I quickly transitioned from smug to slight panic). Through security I went, all the way to the very end of the concourse, where indeed my flight had already begun boarding.

But, I made it. And even though I was concerned that a very chocolate-y granola bar and dried edamame would be my only dinner, my fears were quickly put to rest by the wide movie selection.

I, rather fittingly, I think, chose a movie about Indian cuisine.

But! Back to the real culture shock. I now stick out, as a white, tall female. I now no longer speak the primary language of the airline or the other passengers. But we can still communicate in smiles and English that is everywhere.

This is my first time ever leaving the country without either my parents or a large group of Grinnellians who were also in shock and spoke English. It’s different. It’s good. It is thus far movie and surprisingly-good-airplane-food filled.

See you on the other side. 

on the timing of this whole thing

It's weird for me to have a blog again. Once upon a time I had a blog. I spent a lot of time on it, thinking about it, designing it, reading other blogs.  I don't think that will be the case for this one. This one exists because I want a written record of my time abroad and a way to communicate with my family and friends who are scattered around the globe. 

I am starting this now because in four days I will be flying to India.. I figured that the 21st will really mark the beginning of my abroad adventures, at least in my mind, so might as well start writing about them now. 

It's strange. I know that generally blogs include more than two paragraphs. But all of my other social media outlets are brief. Brevity is encouraged. And I've gotten used to it. So bear with me as I try to remember how to write for longer than 140 characters. 

pre-departure

Sitting here in my room in Grinnell, at my desk surrounded by the coziness of white Christmas lights and Tswift’s new album, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Nonetheless, I will soon be on a plane to India. For some strange reason. I can’t quite remember when I agreed to this whole flying-to-another-country-after-finals.

It will be good. Just gotta pack everything in sight first.

Then I will go to the airport, fly to Doha, meet up with my parents, fly to India, spend three weeks there traveling and being a total tourist and seeing old friends, then fly home. Unpack. Breathe. Repack. Fly to Costa Rica at the end of January. Live in Costa Rica for four months (again, I ask, what was I thinking?!?). Return home. Hopefully a little changed or bettered or improved or something that all those shiny study abroad pamphlets promise.

That’s what this blog will be. Theoretically. An account of my crazy adventuring. We’ll see how long I can keep it up.

This here blog is so that a) I will have a written record for myself of this time and b) to keep all of [you] somewhat up-to-date with my life. I’m excited, I promise. But it hasn't sunk in yet.