Arrival in San José

I had the beginning to my next post all composed in my head. It would be a funny apology for writing yet another "pre-departure" post. I would talk about all my feelings about leaving and fears and excitement.

But I never quite got there. Mostly because I was in an impressive state of denial. Study abroad had sounded really fun and great until I started getting down to the details. Like how it would involve living in another country for four months, speaking another language, small things like that. So I settled into and thoroughly enjoyed my winter break. My family and I adopted two new fuzzy kittens. I watched TV, read books, and slept in. And shocked myself and my friends with how late I started packing.

It didn't hit me until I looked out the window of the plane on our final descent into San José and saw that the terrain was actually quite hilly, even bordering on mountainous. Which sent me into an utter panic that I had not packed any walking type shoes besides my beloved black converse. I proceeded to picture the conversation with my host family in my head about why I, the stupid American, had not thought to bring such an essential. Halfway through I realized that I had no idea how to say the word "hiking," so I resorted to saying that these were not shoes for walking, but for walking. It went poorly.

Luckily, everything in me calmed down the second I saw a very nice looking women holding a clear sign with my name printed on it, right where she was supposed to be.

I said hello to her and her husband and 10 year old son and we all did a weird handshake/hug/cheek kiss combo. (That would be a helpful thing to include in the arrival materials, btw: cultural customs around greetings.)

But anyway, it went fine. My brain started pulling out Spanish words that I hadn't thought of in years, and I even managed to make them think I was competent when I said "única" instead of "sola." Don't know why that's impressive, but I'll take it.

My stomach can handle rice and beans, they were very happy when I told them I liked their house, they have a cat and he likes me (!!!), I learned that I have a short commute compared to many of the other students, and I did not in fact break their shower door. It's the small things.

Suffice it to say, I survived. I might even continue to do so for another few days. 

Delhi

I have one more day here. I get on a plane at almost midnight tonight and begin the journey home. 

Physically I’ll get home midday on the 9^th, but who knows when my brain will catch up to me. But I am already making plans for when I’m home to go see friends.

We’ve spent a lot of time here in Delhi, but somehow it doesn’t feel like that much. It was broken up by a quick trip to Agra in the middle to see the Taj Mahal. Back in Delhi we’ve visited Lodi Gardens, the India Gate (which it turns out is actually a war memorial, which I was not expecting), driven past the PM’s house and the parliament fancy building places.

Obama will be visiting India for Republic Day, January 26. I first learned of this from some shop owners in Hassan, who immediately proclaimed “Barack Obama” after hearing that we were from the US. Made me feel like an egocentric stereotypical American, who knows nothing about other countries but who expects everyone else to know about her country of origin. Regardless, it’s a big deal and people are excited. It’s a big political statement that he’s making by visiting and people are well aware of this. We drove along the parade route, which is lined with thousands and thousands of bleacher seats. Delhi police gates are everywhere in preparation.

As a city, I feel like I’ve seen both the fancy side, with big boulevards and trimmed trees, and the other side. What some might call the “real” India. But I think you have to see both and everything in-between to begin to get a taste for this city, let alone this country.

Delhi is quite fond of roundabouts (with inexplicable stop lights in the middle), unlabeled one-way streets, and speed breakers. Temples and mosques are everywhere. Markets specializing in everything from car parts to gold and silver to wedding stuffs, to clothing and shoes. People everywhere. Cars and rickshaws and buses and bikes and trucks and motorcycles (my ideas about how many people can fit on a motorcycle have been blown away). Signs that call for people to “Obey lane discipline” make me laugh. I realize when I look around that my pictures and words will never be able to come close to capturing the essence of what I am experiencing. It takes all of my senses plus some to comprehend it.

Now I’m rambling. I think this is me trying to make sense of it all. From the tiny details like the color of our taxi driver’s hat (blue) to the wide overviews that climbing a mosque’s 40m minaret afforded me. It’s a lot. And I think that’s about all I can say for sure right now.

The Taj

The Taj Mahal.

I was actually freaking there.

It was quite surreal.

Moonlight viewing was wonderful, as it was quiet and peaceful and we just got to stand there and stare at it in awe. A half hour of staring is a good long chunk. So then today we got to go in the daylight (again, no mist, the weather gods were smiling on us) and get all the details, up close and personal.

Wonderful guide, lots of good information, some cheesy tourist pictures, and still time to sit and just be in its presence. Because it is truly stunning. 

Moonlight viewing. We were so lucky that the fog cleared enough for us to see it!

Being an embarrassing tourist.

on photography

I chose not to bring my camera with me to India. It was a decision I went back and forth on, but ultimately decided that I would be more comfortable without it. As a tall, white, blond, young woman, I stick out here. I felt that adding a fancy dslr to the mix would only make me more of a target. And as impossible as it is, I do like to pretend that I can sometimes blend in a bit, and I didn’t feel that that would be possible to do with my camera.

I’ve borrowed my parents’ cameras a few times. I love taking pictures, but it has also reaffirmed my decision to not bring my own. It is so easy for me to get sucked into framing the perfect shot, messing with the iso and exposure. Sometimes it’s so much better for me to just take in what’s in front of me. To accept that I will never possibly be able to capture everything that my many senses can. So I just turn in lots of circles, walk slowly, and enjoy it while I’m there. And let that be enough.

With that being said, here are some grainy cell phone shots I've gotten: 

My bed in Bangalore

A chilly arrival in Delhi

The autos that are everywhere

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.