Hello from the other side of the world! If you’re friends with me on Facebook, you probably know that I’ve arrived in Chandigarh, after a somewhat grueling 24 hour journey.
The morning of my departure, I spent half an hour dying my hair to a deep brunette, in the hope that it’ll help me blend in slightly better in India. I was doing well in getting my bags ready, but I scrambled in the last five minutes with filling my water bottle and shuffling toiletries between ziplock baggies. It was in the car on the way to the BART that I realized I left my insulated water bottle (which I had spent weeks thinking of how useful it would be in the hot climate of India) on the counter. I’d spent so much time focusing on keeping my shit together, I had to breath through my frustration to keep from tearing up. A couple minutes later, I realized that I’d also left all my liquids on the table. God. DAMN IT. I kind of lost it at that point. I was so pissed at myself, and I was also saying goodbye to my aunt and uncle at the BART station: my last “farewells” in America.
I was fully crying as my grandma and I rode the escalator to the platform. When the train pulled up, the car we were presented was packed. I rushed to get in line for the car to our right. My body was through the threshold when the doors closed on my arm, my suitcase and grandmother outside. I was able to push them open again to get my case though, but they shut before Grandma could squeeze in.
So there I stood, blotchy-faced with a full audience of commuters who’d watched my poor nana knock on the window as the train pulled away. A nice woman assured me that I could reunite with her at another stop.
On the first flight, I watched Maleficent and The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. I think I only liked Maleficent because Angelina Jolie's lips were so mesmerizing. The Fannings always annoy the crap out of me. And Elle’s hair was far too clean and bouncy for the time period. Walter Mitty was pretty good. I always forget how much I like Ben Stiller... I was glad I watched it, because it got me excited for my trip again. At that point, I was too focused on what I knew would be uncomfortable about my stay, and forgot how much I’ve wanted an adventure. Most of my trip will be really exciting and enriching. And it’s important to remember that bad instances often make good stories.
On the second flight, I sat next to a man who ate and drank very loudly. There was a storm outside and I got to look down at lightning. That felt weird.
When we arrived at the airport in New Delhi at 1 am, we had the good luck of meeting a man also catching the bus to Chandigarh. He even knew one of my grandpa’s colleagues. He helped us take the shuttle to the bus stop and get our tickets. I was able to sleep for a bit, but buses always make my nose really itchy (???) so it wasn’t very restful. The driver was heavy on the horn, as most Indian drivers are. In my dream, the honking became a man playing the accordion. When I woke up, rain was pouring across the window, and my backpack at my feet was drenched.
My grandpa picked us up at about 8, and we got settled at his apartment. I have a nice little bed in the living room, on which I took a nap that turned into an epic five-hour slumber.
Last night, my grandparents and I went to an Indian choir concert. It was great, but my grandma and I both kept falling asleep. I feel really bad about it, but the concert was like two hours long, and jet lag has such a grip on me! We’re almost a full 12 hours from my normal timezone. It still has me all off-schedule, making me wake up at 5:30 this morning with no hope of falling asleep again. It was one of my most productive mornings yet.
Tomorrow I’m off to the slum or basti, as is the local term. I’m surprised we’re going out there already, but I’m also glad to get started so soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment