I started the story of my trip to India in this post, and am just now continuing it. I hope you weren't holding your breath in anticipation :)
The flight to India was exactly what you would expect from a 15 hour plane ride. We were surrounded by crying babies, had almost no leg room, and only one of our televisions worked. Every single person with a window seat seemed to be suffering from insomnia or adjusting to time zones very quickly. They sat happily watching the world zoom by out of their tiny, light emitting, windows, and we didn't sleep- at all.
When we finally landed, we waited for our bags and walked right past customs and into India. I was expecting some sort of pat down or interrogation, but no one seemed to notice us. We walked out of the airport and were smacked in the face with a wall of sticky heat, exotic smells, unfamiliar sounds, and a world that was totally foreign to anything I had ever seen. Before we left, someone described India as an assault to your senses- in that moment, leaving the safety and familiarity of the western style airport, those words were seared into my brain.
Our friend, Raghev, was waiting for us, and we were ushered into a small car that smelled like a combination of sweat, spices, and candy. I sat silently in the back seat, trying to take in everything that was going on around me. We flew through the city of Delhi, only pausing to beep at a camel or hop a curb to get off a nearly missed exit. I remember feeling my body slowly transition from nervous excitement to sheer terror. I was unbelievably overwhelmed.
We arrived at Raghev's apartment, and two men with machine guns guarded a gate that slowly opened as monkeys jumped off and ran past our car. I vaguely remember meeting his parents and excusing myself for a nap. A week later, when I saw his family again and the jet lag had worn off, they told me that they had been worried about me. I had just stared at them not saying a word, ha. My reaction to change is obviously not ideal.
When I woke up from my nap I was flooded with the smell of spices and searing meat. I was starving, but I was terrified of eating. All of the guide books I had read talked in length about food poisoning and travelers stomach issues, and although I tried to prepare myself for what seemed like an inevitable part of the trip, I just couldn't. Starving seriously seemed like a better option. Looking back I see how unreasonable I was being- I didn't get sick once! John did, but that is another story. I tried small bites of everything, at first only because I felt rude refusing it. It was amazing; even the things I didn't care for were so much fun to eat. Every bite was a tiny shock to my system. Tasting something entirely new must be like seeing a color you didn't know existed- it is indescribable.
The rest of the night I was pretty quite. I kept reminding myself that I was in India, that I wanted to be there, and that I would be home in a month. At one point I decided I would just stay in the apartment until it was time to board the plane, and I looked up the cost of changing my returning flight. Raghev's family were welcoming and reassuring of my fears and I, of course, eventually got over it. But not before sending Adam and my sister a few emails that probably led them to believe I had been kidnapped or worse.
It is a cruel trick of the world that jet lag almost always accompanies culture shock. John and I were up all night watching bad television and calculating what time it was in New York. We eventually decided we needed to force ourselves to fall asleep, and went to our beds. In another one of life's comedic punch lines, the windows began to shake and the skies opened up with a huge storm. Golf ball sized hail slammed into the apartment, and the winds blew so loud I couldn't hear anything- except the cries and screams of monkeys. It was a surreal welcome song from the country to us.
The next morning afternoon we woke up to fallen branches and a new excitement for the adventure we were starting.
Sorry that was so long. This post makes it seem like I had an awful time, but I promise it got much better!
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| A small town in Mumbai. |
The flight to India was exactly what you would expect from a 15 hour plane ride. We were surrounded by crying babies, had almost no leg room, and only one of our televisions worked. Every single person with a window seat seemed to be suffering from insomnia or adjusting to time zones very quickly. They sat happily watching the world zoom by out of their tiny, light emitting, windows, and we didn't sleep- at all.
When we finally landed, we waited for our bags and walked right past customs and into India. I was expecting some sort of pat down or interrogation, but no one seemed to notice us. We walked out of the airport and were smacked in the face with a wall of sticky heat, exotic smells, unfamiliar sounds, and a world that was totally foreign to anything I had ever seen. Before we left, someone described India as an assault to your senses- in that moment, leaving the safety and familiarity of the western style airport, those words were seared into my brain.
 |
| John, a cow, and a rickshaw |
We arrived at Raghev's apartment, and two men with machine guns guarded a gate that slowly opened as monkeys jumped off and ran past our car. I vaguely remember meeting his parents and excusing myself for a nap. A week later, when I saw his family again and the jet lag had worn off, they told me that they had been worried about me. I had just stared at them not saying a word, ha. My reaction to change is obviously not ideal.
When I woke up from my nap I was flooded with the smell of spices and searing meat. I was starving, but I was terrified of eating. All of the guide books I had read talked in length about food poisoning and travelers stomach issues, and although I tried to prepare myself for what seemed like an inevitable part of the trip, I just couldn't. Starving seriously seemed like a better option. Looking back I see how unreasonable I was being- I didn't get sick once! John did, but that is another story. I tried small bites of everything, at first only because I felt rude refusing it. It was amazing; even the things I didn't care for were so much fun to eat. Every bite was a tiny shock to my system. Tasting something entirely new must be like seeing a color you didn't know existed- it is indescribable.
 |
| This man sold mangoes and washed feet. No, I'm not kidding. |
The rest of the night I was pretty quite. I kept reminding myself that I was in India, that I wanted to be there, and that I would be home in a month. At one point I decided I would just stay in the apartment until it was time to board the plane, and I looked up the cost of changing my returning flight. Raghev's family were welcoming and reassuring of my fears and I, of course, eventually got over it. But not before sending Adam and my sister a few emails that probably led them to believe I had been kidnapped or worse.
It is a cruel trick of the world that jet lag almost always accompanies culture shock. John and I were up all night watching bad television and calculating what time it was in New York. We eventually decided we needed to force ourselves to fall asleep, and went to our beds. In another one of life's comedic punch lines, the windows began to shake and the skies opened up with a huge storm. Golf ball sized hail slammed into the apartment, and the winds blew so loud I couldn't hear anything- except the cries and screams of monkeys. It was a surreal welcome song from the country to us.
The next morning afternoon we woke up to fallen branches and a new excitement for the adventure we were starting.
 |
| John reading in the Himalayas |
Sorry that was so long. This post makes it seem like I had an awful time, but I promise it got much better!
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