India is crazy -- I honestly do not understand it at all. Since coming here I keep trying to relate/judge/place/compare it in contrast to the US (or more appropriately "the States") and have been failing because it just doesn't work. The simplest facets of American life I always took as universal (silverware, toilet paper, cleavage (sorry mom), dryers, flush toilets, clean water, Humane Society, normal rain cycles, waste disposal services) are mostly absent. But then there are the experiences/sensations that I had never known before getting here that potentially might reshape my whole "universal" definition (yellowed right hand finger nails, constant indigestion, seduction and beauty through showing no skin, bucket showers, no shoes at the door, side stepping careening auto-rickshaws, people literally everywhere).
To make things easier for my mind to digest, I'm going to break things up into sections. This should be my first warning that this blog is essentially for myself as a way to record everything that's going on.
1. Arrival
Flight from Newark, NJ to Mumbai, India in coach = severe body contortion. Literally my muscles did not fully regain movement for a couple of days. Before and on the flight, everyone on my program basically knew who the other students were -- easily identified as the passengers who were jittering, checking cell phones for last minute texts of comfort, fixing hair and make-up to ensure quality first impressions, picking up the super intellectual book to master the student vibe, and basically the only people on the flight who were traveling alone under the age of 40 years old and wearing makeshift Western interpretations of Indian clothing.
Stepping off the flight into Mumbai airport I put on my tough, street-sense persona, clutched my bags close to me, and hopefully gave off the accurate vibe -- "I'm here for cultural immersion, but will beat you up if you try and steal my bags or touch my body" -- as the guide books suggest. First bathroom experience in India = all squat "toilets", no toilet paper.
After meeting with the other students and Utaraa (our Residence Director) we headed in over-packed vans (casual quadruple belting) to the hotel where we would spent the night before leaving for Durashet, our orientation site.
Coupled with awkward, summer camp/freshman year orientation introductory remarks, exhaustion gave way to early good nights and those little lingering doubts you always try, but can never seem, to ignore.
To make things easier for my mind to digest, I'm going to break things up into sections. This should be my first warning that this blog is essentially for myself as a way to record everything that's going on.
1. Arrival
Flight from Newark, NJ to Mumbai, India in coach = severe body contortion. Literally my muscles did not fully regain movement for a couple of days. Before and on the flight, everyone on my program basically knew who the other students were -- easily identified as the passengers who were jittering, checking cell phones for last minute texts of comfort, fixing hair and make-up to ensure quality first impressions, picking up the super intellectual book to master the student vibe, and basically the only people on the flight who were traveling alone under the age of 40 years old and wearing makeshift Western interpretations of Indian clothing.
Stepping off the flight into Mumbai airport I put on my tough, street-sense persona, clutched my bags close to me, and hopefully gave off the accurate vibe -- "I'm here for cultural immersion, but will beat you up if you try and steal my bags or touch my body" -- as the guide books suggest. First bathroom experience in India = all squat "toilets", no toilet paper.
After meeting with the other students and Utaraa (our Residence Director) we headed in over-packed vans (casual quadruple belting) to the hotel where we would spent the night before leaving for Durashet, our orientation site.
Coupled with awkward, summer camp/freshman year orientation introductory remarks, exhaustion gave way to early good nights and those little lingering doubts you always try, but can never seem, to ignore.
No comments:
Post a Comment