ha! business class lounge!

Well, I am writing this on a German computer and the z and y are switched and there are funnz letters like ä and ö and ü and I cant get the 'at' szmbol to work. But, woah, what a difference this all is! I arrived at the Hyderabad airport (which is all new and fancy) early because I decided I'd rather wait at the air-conditioned airport than in my hot homestay.

I waited around for my check in time to start outside the terminal, got my last iced Eskimo from cafe coffee day, and sat, with stares and glances coming my way every minute. Apparently the windows near where I was sitting were in desperate need of intense cleaning, as were the floors because within about 10 minutes of sitting there, I had at least 3 or 4 airport workers just standing close to me, mop in hand pushing the dirt around, and window cleaners just idly rubbing the same spot over and over. BUT then I checked in and took a portal which whizzed me to another universe via the elevator down to the special lounge for important people like me (fluke, I'm flying business class). And I walk in, in my balloon pants and dirty chokos which I haven't taken off for 5 months and look around at all this food and drinks, and adamantly don't believe the server lady when she tells me everything is free of charge. This guy nearby chucked and said, something funny about that and we started chatting and I felt like I had been zapped into another world that I had forced myself to accept did not exist anymore.

And it wasn't India: it was not what I had come from, not when early yesterday I ate lunch with my host family for the last time and found 3 small ants in my rice,...not when on the way to the airport I saw a 3 year old girl walking through a pile of garbage, carrying her 1 year old sister on her hip. Not the same place that I have been living in where I take trains over night and smell and see piss and shit along the train tracks because the toilets are just holes in the train floor. Certainly not the same place as the mountains and gorgeous rivers and sprawling tea plantations, or the Taj Mahal or the wonderful decay of Kolkata. Not the height nor the depths of the India that I've seen. It was just this rich, too organized place that felt like a pod of westernization. And yet, of course, it was SO amazing to get free food and a beer and not have to worry about my bag being stolen or anything like that. And I was still in Hyderabad.

It was amazing how refreshed I felt after a really short time in that luxury. My turn around time has increased so much, so that after only an hour or two in a place less stressful, I already feel ready to get back out there into the real and hard, exciting and fast passed world of REAL India. But of course, I didn't go back out there. Instead I was shuttled from the special lounge via a separate tunnel onto the plane and sat down in my seat, looked out the window at the same image I saw when I sat on my plane going to India and suddenly felt like I was back on my ride going to India 5 months before taking off from Boston.

And then I left India.

Yesterday I cried a lot. And it was not because I was sad to be leaving India--at least I don't think it was. That was certainly not why I felt the impulse to just weep. Maybe on one level I'm sad to leave it because it means this crazy experience is finally over and now I have to go back to a normal life and somehow find a way to integrate the two together; but all that feels and felt secondary. No, I cried yesterday out of fear. Each time I thought about my family and home I just couldn't help myself. I could feel myself, at last, so close to getting back, and yet still was not there. The plane ride from Delhi to Hyderabad was so weird because the entire time I could only think about how the plane was going to blow up or crash or something would go wrong and prevent me from ever actually leaving India. I've never in my life been paranoid about flying or airplanes, but that day getting back and forth from Delhi to Hyderabad, to my homestay and back to the airport my mind was full of the worst thoughts of disasters and crashes--so much that I had to just STOP thinking or else I was going to go crazy. When I got back to my Indian home in Doyans 101 I felt so strangely like I was coming home, it was weird after all that insanity of traveling and yet all I could think about was that I was finally, FINALLY, going to my real home! I realized though, in seeing my little street, my room, the University campus and the small gate into the Guest House, just how far I'd come. How much everything in India--all that stuff that at first felt totally unmanageable and overwhelming--had become customary and doable.

The last leap was to get myself to the airport so I left early and sat on that bus and that's when I cried. Miraculously it went smoother than any other transaction I'd had yet in India, and I got to the airport at 7:30PM for my flight that left at 1AM later that night. It was so terrifying to think being so close to going home, and yet feel still so far away from it. I had been separated physically by 2 continents and 2 oceans the entire time, as well as all the plane and train rides I took, as well as all the emotional barriers necessary to make living in India possible, and yet that day before coming home I was emotionally already home really, but still JUST as far from home as I'd been all semester. There were still the oceans and land masses separating us. And it was scary because I was terrified that somehow there would be something that prevented me from ever actually getting away and finally going home. Some part of me, while living in India, had to convince myself that that was my new life--that it was permanent and real. Because, if I didn't accept it all, then I would never have come to be OK with it all. And so I convinced myself that it was all going to last forever and that there was no end in sight and that is how it was doable on some level, and accept that it was my life for the time that it was. That last day though, was so strange because I saw that it was going to end, but was still just as far from being there as I'd been the whole time. I was terrified that somehow I wouldn't end up making it home and I'd have to stay in India for longer and longer and never make it home. Only now I realize how much I had to twist and warp my mind so that I could accept that I was living in India for 5 months as it was happening.

I was sick on the plane, which was actually great for me because it kept me reminded of where I was coming from. Amidst the luxury of business class I was still confronted by what had been real: the dirt in my fingernails, the holes in my clothes, the dust in my eyes, and the grains in my teeth.

weird, because in the entire time I flew from Hyderabad to Boston I didn't smell fresh air for almost 2 days.

that's all.
peace out homeslices. it's been REALZ.

s

longest week of my life...

In the last week I have experienced more dips and highs and shifts in my own mentality towards India than in the entire 5 months that I've been here. I have a new appreciation for people who really travel in this country for an extended period of time, and suddenly I realize how lucky I was to have had Hyderbabad, as miserably as that city was, as my home base all semester. India is exhausting, as I've known since minute 1 of being here, but being able to rest and retreat into the campus of HCU and my homestay (again, despite the disappointment there, too), is crucial for maintaining any kind of sanity as a foreigner in this country.

We flew from Hyderabad on the 29th of April, after our last exam ended 4 hours before, to Kolkata, where Mallory has family. After mix ups with dates and time of arrivals, we were whisked away in a van to the house (on the way we were offered food many time, and since we are vegetarians, the only thing we ended up getting were the Indian version of Ho-hos and a GIANT litre bottle of Thumbs Up--India's coke). Had a terrifying time of driving through the streets of Kolkata at 1am and actually for the first time in my life realized and felt fully how vulnerable I am--as a woman, as a white woman, and simply as a foreigner in general. I can't write about that just yet, actually, because I can feel that the full effect of that night and the days in Kolkata actually, are still working on me, and I am still not sure what I will say about it all.

Suffice it to say, for now at least, that Kolkata is my favorite city in India, hands down. It is old and decrepid and it is falling apart at every seam. It is dusty and dirty and full to the brim with cars and taxis, autos and buses. And yet it has a charm to it, and an tradition that is entirely new. Kolkata (Calcutta as it used to be spelled) was the capital of India until like 1911 or something, and then the British shifted it to Delhi. Because of that, Kolkata is filled with old buildings and architecture that is all from British Raj era. And yet it has fallen into a such a state of decay that everything feels to be beautifully crumbling before your eyes. It was also the first city that felt walk-able that I had been to in India and I wish so badly that I had gone to school there and lived there instead of in the Tech Center of Hyderabad! Kolkata is like a game of jenga. the streets are crammed together, and one building juts out so the building next to it caves it. everything fits together so entirely, there is no open space really and it feels overflowing and like it is going to explode at the seems. it feels like an old dress that has really been worn in and is about to rip at the seems. and yet it is able to stay together. there are the sounds of life, poeple LIFE, not cars and buses like in Hyderabad. i loved it entirely.

Mallory's family is an interesting bunch. We were not sure the entire time who we were with exactly, or how Mallory is related to them and who. But we made it work in a semi-kind of way. We were staying in the house that her father grew up in, which was really amazing to be in. It felt stifling, though, because since we are both girls, and Mallory is actually a part of the family, they all have this idea that we only want to sit inside all day and that we have no interest in anything cultural except watching movies and getting married eventually (that came up a few times for Mal, which was priceless). Being with them also was hard because we just wanted to walk the city and they wanted to drive us places which takes twice as long, and they took forever to get moving. It reminded me of how my sister describes Spain, where there can only be one activity for the entire day. That is what it was like in Kolkata with Mallory's family. For instance, we didn't get out of the house to go DO something until 4:30pm...and we had said we would leave in the early morning.

Anyway, after too short a time in Kolkata, stinted somewhat by feeling boxed in by expectations, we got on a plane to Delhi where my brain exploded. I really don't like Delhi one bit. It has come a long way, in that it has traffic rules and cleaner streets, and beautiful buildings (like state capitals stuff, etc.) but other than that, it is totally filthy and over conjested and completely lacks that charm that Kolkata seemed to have. Where Kolkata has integrated itself into it's history, Delhi seems t0 have superimposed itself and its history onto a clean paper, and gone from there. It is a strange feeling.

We were exhausted and overwhelmed and so much emotional and physical strain is unbelievably taxing and Delhi is just NOT the place to try to relax. Street vendors are worse than anywhere I have been so far. To the point where if you look them sternly in the eye and saying No. (something that works quite well in many places here) in Delhi they only turn to their friends and laugh at you for losing your temper. But how can they expect me to react! that is the worst part. I can't be polite, and i can't be rude. And I can't ignore them because they follow you for 10 minutes. I hate that harsh people in a fast city like that are capable of forcing me to be become harsh myself. I hate feeling like I have to have a destination when I walk, but here that is what you have to do. If you look like you are just wondering, you are a real gonner.

We found the backpacker's heaven in Delhi, which is only nice in that there are a lot of other white people around (which in Delhi is actually reassuring, let me say). It is insanely hectic and overwhelming and not relaxing, but at least it is cheap and doable and feels somewhat safe. Delhi is full FULL of scams and people just waiting to rip us off, and it so hard to exist in that kind of environment.

We got a driver for the next day to take us and a friend we made, named Will (which was strange to have a 'Will' around), who was from Reading, England, to the Taj Mahal. We paid him too much, and he said he would turn on the AC if we paid him more, but that is just so jerky of him that we said no, because he just wanted US to pay for him to be more comfortable. and he was a terrifying driver and it took 5 hours to get there and 5 to get back and we really didn't do the Taj the best way possible. We were there during the hottest part of the day and they didn't let me pay the Indian price (even with my residency card from HCU) and so I had to pay Rs750 (which is nearly $20!!) haha that is so NOT a lot of money, but of course it seems like it is now to me... But of course, despite all these drawbacks, the Taj was spectacular. Truly and utterly amazing and so beautiful--just jaw dropping. I took lots of pictures, but words and photos have never done the job in the past, and so I won't even attempt to describe the Taj Mahal on this measly blog of mine. Go if you can, and go at sunrise or sunset and DONT go in the heat of the day.


After the Taj, we GOT OUT OF DELHI. We got to Haridwar, where the Ganges comes out of the Himalayas and now we are in Rishikesh which is the yoga and ashram capital of the world, and also where the Beatles came to write their White Album. So that's cool. We've been here for a few days now and have just been lounging as best we can. We did some yoga, we slept a lot, we went up a hike to see a waterfall. We are later going to see the ashram where the Beatles actually stayed, and our plans for the rest of the time here are to take a cooking class, do more yoga, meet up with our friends from HCU who are doing a 10 day retreat in this same town (!!), go white water rafter (?), and potentially go see the puja at Haridwar, where hundreds and hundreds of Hindu pilgrams are flocking around this time of year, to make offerings to the gods and clean themselves in the holy Ganges. We'll see how much of all that we actually do--it's so funny, because every time we travel here we have this elaborate plan to do SO many things and inevitably we change it so many times and just want to relax and take it easy.

At this point, though, I am only interested in making it through the next 4 days and getting my butt back to the US where I can sit on that money ass and watch bad TV while eating gummi bears and twizzlers, ice cream out of the pint, and where i can brush my teeth with the water right from the tap!!

I am more exhausted than I have ever been in my entire life right now. emotionally, and physically and mentally I feel just totally drained. I can't


I am so ready to come home. India has been so incredible and this blog has helped at times and been a pain in the ass at others. I love that I have documented what I have done, but it has been really interesting which experiences and thoughts are blog-able and which are not. I have really had to work through so many different mediums over the course of this trip in my attempts to come to a fuller understanding of what it is I am experiencing, or seeing, or whatever. Somedays it was painting, somedays it was poetry, somedays it was modern Amrican novelists, others it was new age yoga lessons or traditional annoying "yoga is good for the health" (a whole post needs to be for my yoga teachers and all that). Other days it was meditating, others it was thinking and talking, others it was hiking. Sometimes it was screaming, or crying, or dreaming of home.

I dreamt last night that the government got mad at me for changing my mind so many times about Europe that they took away my passport and made my mother go into hiding for trying to cheap the system (which we aren't doing). I dreamt that it all had to do with me on this quest to find the identity of my dad, and that we were flying first class around looking for him, and that there were clean showers (with stalls!) as part of flying first class.

seems indicative of where my head is right now.

That's all for now.
-S

PS:
Two things I keep forgetting to mention about India/my experience that are funny and I don't want to forget them:

1) When Tim, Arletta and I cooked our host family dinner one night, we made pasta and tomato sauce. we used some random spoons and 2 forks that we found miraculously in the house somewhere, but after about 2 minutes, Amma and everyone was eating pasta with their hands. Best moment was at the end when Amma used her hand, as always, to scoop the extra tomato sauce out of the pot onto her/my/everyone's pasta.

2) the way people pause while they talk before saying the important words of their sentences. makes it really hard and kind of makes me feel anxious because you don't know what people are going to say!

******

i can only write this once i think because it is not the kind of thing that i want to admit or think about. i am terrified of trying to explain all this--India, my brain, my thoughts, my mind, my face, my skin, my days, my classes, my homestay, my world here--to people back home. and it's scary to think about because those people back home are the reason i want to come home right now so badly, and i feel like if i can't explain it to them--to YOU, whoever YOU are--then those people won't get me anymore, or won't realize everything about me.

i adore India so much. i have loved it and hated it at times, and laughed at it and with it, and it sounds so cheesy and sappy but it is so hard to put any of it into words or thoughts or stories. how can i capture 5 months of living in this insane place, and all the things that I have thought about and done into any one story that i can tell people.

and I'm still not sure I can answer that question: Why did you come to India? I still don't know. but these things are too much to think about right now. rather, I'm only going to focus on what it feels like to be in Rishikesh right now, and what it is going to feel like to sit on my couch in Boston in 4 days, eating Ben & Jerry's.