Mindfulness.
(As I scarf down another granola bar because all I know is I'm hungry. Therefore, I eat)
I'm feeling more and more strongly about the significance of mindfulness. Living a mindful life. Eating a mindful meal. Speaking in mindful sentences. Choosing mindfully.
I've noticed a lot living in the land of convenience and now being in a place of unpredictability. In Amurrrica (and plenty of other places, I'm sure) we get hungry and then we eat (...although I guess hunger doesn't always precede this eating habit... but that's another topic). What's usually the tongue's preference is not that which has been skillfully prepared or labored over, but something pre-packaged, pre-determined, and probabl bought form the store in a mindless jaunt down the aisles in the closest market to our homes.
We wear clothes because they were on sale. Priced high. Logo here. Rip (pre-determined) there. We buy what we like because it will make us look better. Taller. Shorter. Thinner. Curvier. That's all we care about.
I think there is so much that goes into every bite we take, sip we slurp, shoe we tie, errands we run. We hardly think or partake of the process, we just buy. Eat. Drink. Drive. Repeat.
I'm guilty of this just as much as the next guy. That doesn't mean I like it. I only want to think more deeply about everything I do. I want to be aware of where it came from, how and by what means it arrived here, and choose to understand to the best of my abilities. Should I not be able to truly understand, relate or cope with the reality of the things I have or do, then I probably shouldn't own or do them.
I want to be able to understand the heat of the kitchen as I attempt cullinary creations of the foods I eat. I want to go to bed with an ache in my back from spending so many hours in tedious movements of the hands and eyes as I construct and create the linens I wear or clothe my house in.
And I want to share. I want to be free to open my library of books, textbooks, tutorials to anyone who needs them or desires their information more than the dust desires a home.
Why aren't my possessions up to spreading? Are others'? I want to rely more on my own abilites for the worldly possessions, than the money in my pocket.
Just sayin'.
8.23.2010
Thursday, July 22; Andi's Air-Conditioned, Cozy Room
So we're better now, mostly. Josiah was having adverse effects from the Metronidazole (turns out it's a bit of a rampant colon cleanser. Who knew?), but we're both safely on Cipro and resting our eyes out.
We slept all/most/majority of yesterday, which I feel bad for, but was unable to really do anything about it. It's much easier to collapse in a bed full of cozies than lose myself in a sweaty city. I guess it was our day off and I recall fun talks of gardens and pb&j picnics before sickness set in. Oh well.
Today we awoke all the same, a bit more rested, harnessing a bit more strength. We set out early for some salty comfort snacks and strong antibiotics. We dressed in our finest (Josiah wearing jeans, belt, t-shirt, SHOES and SOCKS!), setting off around 7:30 in high hopes, high spirits. We walked to Civil Lines, crossed over to the exit for the other side of the street only to find the Exchange Store closed. The doritos and coke would have to wait. And if they weren't open, neither was the chemist. So we walked back, thoroughly exhausted and ready for bed, ridding ourselves of thick clothing and regaining homeostasis.. choosing not to be awake and out the door until almost 1pm. This time, we braved Kashmere Gate for the beloved California Burgers and coke. It was nice to sit. Watch. Eat.
(I just watched Josiah kill Jiminy Cricket with an empty water bottle.....after succeeding, he returned once again to playing Vice City and singing Outkast to himself)
Now it's off to bed again. Dirty feet. Tired eyes.
We slept all/most/majority of yesterday, which I feel bad for, but was unable to really do anything about it. It's much easier to collapse in a bed full of cozies than lose myself in a sweaty city. I guess it was our day off and I recall fun talks of gardens and pb&j picnics before sickness set in. Oh well.
Today we awoke all the same, a bit more rested, harnessing a bit more strength. We set out early for some salty comfort snacks and strong antibiotics. We dressed in our finest (Josiah wearing jeans, belt, t-shirt, SHOES and SOCKS!), setting off around 7:30 in high hopes, high spirits. We walked to Civil Lines, crossed over to the exit for the other side of the street only to find the Exchange Store closed. The doritos and coke would have to wait. And if they weren't open, neither was the chemist. So we walked back, thoroughly exhausted and ready for bed, ridding ourselves of thick clothing and regaining homeostasis.. choosing not to be awake and out the door until almost 1pm. This time, we braved Kashmere Gate for the beloved California Burgers and coke. It was nice to sit. Watch. Eat.
(I just watched Josiah kill Jiminy Cricket with an empty water bottle.....after succeeding, he returned once again to playing Vice City and singing Outkast to himself)
Now it's off to bed again. Dirty feet. Tired eyes.
8.01.2010
Wednesday, July 21; Andi's Room; 4:21pm
Yesterday started as a terribly wonderful day. We woke up nicely, ate a fun breakfast with the boys, and we got ready for Mukesh's. It was also raining. The day was grey and scattered with puddles. We questioned whether I should go, as we didn't know how safe a motorcycle ride in the drenched slums would go.. but I tagged along anyway.
We were met at the Metro station by one of the boys from the classroom we'd be in. He negotiated with the rickshaw wallah and we set off down the road. On the way there we passed a big tree in the middle of the road...paved around rather than chopped down. It added to the wonderful-ness.
We reached the immediate area and got out. Most of the road was puddled over. We danced our way through the narrow paths through all of the homes.
I just realized I'm reiterating what I wrote yesterday...I must be a little out of it still.
ANYWAYS, I enjoyed Wazzipur. The two eldest, aged 14, were very helpful in walking us back out. The girl took my hand as we tried our dare-devilish hands at jumping over and around unavoidable puddles. I liked it a lot. They were all so sweet.
So after our shopping, we came back home, gathered our things and rested. Six o'clock came around and the whole mood of the day changed.
We were all sitting around, talking and getting ready to help the boys with their homework. I had just eaten a few handfulls of that crunchy mix stuff and began burping. It tasted like eggs...not the most pleasant after-taste to associate with any food. Including eggs. I laughed it off, joking about taste adversions with Josiah. Then I started feeling something, a small pain in the bottomest pit of my stomach. I assumed that too would pass. As the time to leave was right upon us, I knew something wasn't right and told everyone I should opt out of homework help for the night. I didn't expect anything, but I could tell some things were not right.
They left downstairs and I went over to the bathroom, only to exel what I thought was everything my bowels could contain...little did I know how incorrect I was. While in there, I heard Josiah and Andi's voices in full force and was relieved to know they were close again ((Side Note from the future: Turns out they came back up because a few kids were sick and one had thrown up in the hallway in front of them. Must have been the filter)).
I came out, disclosed my recent bathroom adventure and proceeded to lie down in Josiah's pile of a bed. But it didn't stop there. The pain grew more intensely and I found myself unable to speak full sentences or look either of them in the face as we tried talking. It was decided somewhere in that time that the filter was to blame and Josiah set out for water as Andi began dumping our supply.
I rushed to the bathroom again, this time to plop myself on an upside-down bucket, arms shaking as I put up my hair and held my face over the toilet in anticipation. Funny thing about that moment was that I found myself singing in my head one of the boys' favorite songs from chapel.
And during the next hour or two, I found myself very thankful. I could very well say that I don't know why, but I really feel that I do. A few hours before I wrote about how I was very unsure about what good it was to have me here. I prayd for understanding. I asked to be put in a place where I could be 'down in the dumps' so to speak, and truly gain an understanding of a lot of things. I wanted to be sure I wasn't just on a vacation, only to return home with a few knick-knacks to show for my stay. And then I found myself face-to-face with a toilet that hadn't fully flushed previous diarrhea, in a bathroom that almost always smells of chow mein, in an apartment located near a home of a ragtag group of boys, sharing all sorts of religions and more personal woes than anyone of their ages should, on a street where people come and people (literally) go, walk down to the Metro just to cool their bones under the closest air-coditioned building that can't kick them out because they're technically not inside, in a city where the beauty and extent of poverty astounds and frustrates me at the same time. And I continue to sing praise in my own way. Silly how that works.
So after the barfing trip, I came back out, squirmed on the floor, unable to talk back when spoken to, hearing threats of being rushed to a hospital if things persist (not actual threats..they were very kind hehe), and trying to figure out which pill would be best to take.
We chose the Metronidazole for the time being and I fought to swallow it. Having half in my system, no more did five minutes pass before I was confronted with an awkward butt-on-toilet-face-in-bucket position, continuing on like I had a full system or something
((We've all been there. Be human with me))
I stumbled back into the living room, slightly more coherent. I had to fight again to get the other half of the pill swallowed. Andi brought some mango nectar and we made a dilluted juice with a dissolved pill. I was then thankful for mango burps rather than egg.
Things slowly became better. Josiah spoke of intermittent queasiness that struck upon standing or walking out of Andi's "too cool for school" room. I asked him to help move his bed/mat into that room, and from there I slept.
-Forgot to say, after all the barfind and I could peacefully lie down, I called my mom. Oh, how I wish she were here for this. I didn't question Andi for a second... actually, she was really incredible. She has a certain way about her that oozes comfortability and I am forever thankful for ALL she has done.
So I told my mom all about it and assured her it wasn't anything to worry about. She went on for a while about things to do should it happen all over again, should I get dehydrated, or should I have to go to the hospital. But all was well and I had to go because exhaustion had me.
The next I awoke, Andi asked about breakfast and honestly, the thought of anything remotely Indian was too much to stomach. Had I not just recognized all the components of our earlier lunch, I would have gladly eaten. But as of now, even rice repulses me.
Turns out Josiah became ill as well, very late into the night.. experiencing the same eagerness for the toilet. It sounds like the same thing, and I feel just terrible. I really don't like that he had to go through it. I also don't like that we had to do this to Andi. I feel awful for having her worry over us. She's been extremely helpful, motherly, and comforting, and, I will say it again, that I will be forever grateful to her.
We've since spent our time resting, reading, computering. Diarrhea has subsided and I at least have an appetite.
I am so very grateful for the flood of prayers we have received. Considering all the time differences, I can assume we've been prayed for all day. And look at us now.
..Actually, it's quite cute. Josiah's wearing the plush black eye rest as I use the light to read and write. He's adorable. I'm so happy he's here, in existence.
A few hours ago, I had a weird little experience. I had wokep up and found myself at my bed again, deciding upon listening to my little music player. It's the first time I decided to listen to it, aside from the time where I played some things for Josiah. The first song that came on was Yann Tiersen's "Pas si Simple" and it blew me away. It's so upbeat, introspective yet entirely outgoing.. and altogether perfect. Then Sufjan's "To Be Alone With You" was up. I absorbed the words and started crying. I still don't really know why. Maybe because it's a beautiful song. Maybe because it reminded me of home and made me miss things. Or maybe yet I was taken aback by the quiet significance of:
1. Having music
2. Having a music player
3. Choosing to listen to it, and
4. Listeing to the music as if I had not done so in years.
I lie here, soaking in and paying attentiont o all of the words. Every song had new meaning and relevance. I equate this new significance to having gone so long without and then deciding to indulge in it. I have the option and I usually always have something playing at home. Always. In my room. In the bathroom. Driving.
I grew too far from appreciation and too close to living with too many choices. I always have the choice at home and I usually always take it. Here, I have a limited choice (with a dying battery) and have learned to live without.
I cried for a few more songs.
Oren Lavie "Dance 'Round the Memory Tree"
Iron and Wine "The Trapeze Swinger"
I listened until I had no ear to appreciate any more. I became aware of the strength of music and when that music loses it's touch.
So yeah. Here I am, a full day after the sickness struck, about two weeks into the trip. We've been in India for two weeks. We've been away from home for two weeks. I haven't seen my family or friends in two weeks (Side note: I found it funny as I scrolled through friends' new photos on fb and made a note of how everyone looks different. I really don't know how to explain that one. Do we really change in appearance in a matter of weeks... Ooooor, are my eyes fixed to facial structures of SouthEast Asians? Ionno)
I think I've written enough today. This is possibly the most, since and to come. It's going to be quite a chore typing this up ((Note from the future: Word. It's been almost a month))
We were met at the Metro station by one of the boys from the classroom we'd be in. He negotiated with the rickshaw wallah and we set off down the road. On the way there we passed a big tree in the middle of the road...paved around rather than chopped down. It added to the wonderful-ness.
We reached the immediate area and got out. Most of the road was puddled over. We danced our way through the narrow paths through all of the homes.
I just realized I'm reiterating what I wrote yesterday...I must be a little out of it still.
ANYWAYS, I enjoyed Wazzipur. The two eldest, aged 14, were very helpful in walking us back out. The girl took my hand as we tried our dare-devilish hands at jumping over and around unavoidable puddles. I liked it a lot. They were all so sweet.
So after our shopping, we came back home, gathered our things and rested. Six o'clock came around and the whole mood of the day changed.
We were all sitting around, talking and getting ready to help the boys with their homework. I had just eaten a few handfulls of that crunchy mix stuff and began burping. It tasted like eggs...not the most pleasant after-taste to associate with any food. Including eggs. I laughed it off, joking about taste adversions with Josiah. Then I started feeling something, a small pain in the bottomest pit of my stomach. I assumed that too would pass. As the time to leave was right upon us, I knew something wasn't right and told everyone I should opt out of homework help for the night. I didn't expect anything, but I could tell some things were not right.
They left downstairs and I went over to the bathroom, only to exel what I thought was everything my bowels could contain...little did I know how incorrect I was. While in there, I heard Josiah and Andi's voices in full force and was relieved to know they were close again ((Side Note from the future: Turns out they came back up because a few kids were sick and one had thrown up in the hallway in front of them. Must have been the filter)).
I came out, disclosed my recent bathroom adventure and proceeded to lie down in Josiah's pile of a bed. But it didn't stop there. The pain grew more intensely and I found myself unable to speak full sentences or look either of them in the face as we tried talking. It was decided somewhere in that time that the filter was to blame and Josiah set out for water as Andi began dumping our supply.
I rushed to the bathroom again, this time to plop myself on an upside-down bucket, arms shaking as I put up my hair and held my face over the toilet in anticipation. Funny thing about that moment was that I found myself singing in my head one of the boys' favorite songs from chapel.
And during the next hour or two, I found myself very thankful. I could very well say that I don't know why, but I really feel that I do. A few hours before I wrote about how I was very unsure about what good it was to have me here. I prayd for understanding. I asked to be put in a place where I could be 'down in the dumps' so to speak, and truly gain an understanding of a lot of things. I wanted to be sure I wasn't just on a vacation, only to return home with a few knick-knacks to show for my stay. And then I found myself face-to-face with a toilet that hadn't fully flushed previous diarrhea, in a bathroom that almost always smells of chow mein, in an apartment located near a home of a ragtag group of boys, sharing all sorts of religions and more personal woes than anyone of their ages should, on a street where people come and people (literally) go, walk down to the Metro just to cool their bones under the closest air-coditioned building that can't kick them out because they're technically not inside, in a city where the beauty and extent of poverty astounds and frustrates me at the same time. And I continue to sing praise in my own way. Silly how that works.
So after the barfing trip, I came back out, squirmed on the floor, unable to talk back when spoken to, hearing threats of being rushed to a hospital if things persist (not actual threats..they were very kind hehe), and trying to figure out which pill would be best to take.
We chose the Metronidazole for the time being and I fought to swallow it. Having half in my system, no more did five minutes pass before I was confronted with an awkward butt-on-toilet-face-in-bucket position, continuing on like I had a full system or something
((We've all been there. Be human with me))
I stumbled back into the living room, slightly more coherent. I had to fight again to get the other half of the pill swallowed. Andi brought some mango nectar and we made a dilluted juice with a dissolved pill. I was then thankful for mango burps rather than egg.
Things slowly became better. Josiah spoke of intermittent queasiness that struck upon standing or walking out of Andi's "too cool for school" room. I asked him to help move his bed/mat into that room, and from there I slept.
-Forgot to say, after all the barfind and I could peacefully lie down, I called my mom. Oh, how I wish she were here for this. I didn't question Andi for a second... actually, she was really incredible. She has a certain way about her that oozes comfortability and I am forever thankful for ALL she has done.
So I told my mom all about it and assured her it wasn't anything to worry about. She went on for a while about things to do should it happen all over again, should I get dehydrated, or should I have to go to the hospital. But all was well and I had to go because exhaustion had me.
The next I awoke, Andi asked about breakfast and honestly, the thought of anything remotely Indian was too much to stomach. Had I not just recognized all the components of our earlier lunch, I would have gladly eaten. But as of now, even rice repulses me.
Turns out Josiah became ill as well, very late into the night.. experiencing the same eagerness for the toilet. It sounds like the same thing, and I feel just terrible. I really don't like that he had to go through it. I also don't like that we had to do this to Andi. I feel awful for having her worry over us. She's been extremely helpful, motherly, and comforting, and, I will say it again, that I will be forever grateful to her.
We've since spent our time resting, reading, computering. Diarrhea has subsided and I at least have an appetite.
I am so very grateful for the flood of prayers we have received. Considering all the time differences, I can assume we've been prayed for all day. And look at us now.
..Actually, it's quite cute. Josiah's wearing the plush black eye rest as I use the light to read and write. He's adorable. I'm so happy he's here, in existence.
A few hours ago, I had a weird little experience. I had wokep up and found myself at my bed again, deciding upon listening to my little music player. It's the first time I decided to listen to it, aside from the time where I played some things for Josiah. The first song that came on was Yann Tiersen's "Pas si Simple" and it blew me away. It's so upbeat, introspective yet entirely outgoing.. and altogether perfect. Then Sufjan's "To Be Alone With You" was up. I absorbed the words and started crying. I still don't really know why. Maybe because it's a beautiful song. Maybe because it reminded me of home and made me miss things. Or maybe yet I was taken aback by the quiet significance of:
1. Having music
2. Having a music player
3. Choosing to listen to it, and
4. Listeing to the music as if I had not done so in years.
I lie here, soaking in and paying attentiont o all of the words. Every song had new meaning and relevance. I equate this new significance to having gone so long without and then deciding to indulge in it. I have the option and I usually always have something playing at home. Always. In my room. In the bathroom. Driving.
I grew too far from appreciation and too close to living with too many choices. I always have the choice at home and I usually always take it. Here, I have a limited choice (with a dying battery) and have learned to live without.
I cried for a few more songs.
Oren Lavie "Dance 'Round the Memory Tree"
Iron and Wine "The Trapeze Swinger"
I listened until I had no ear to appreciate any more. I became aware of the strength of music and when that music loses it's touch.
So yeah. Here I am, a full day after the sickness struck, about two weeks into the trip. We've been in India for two weeks. We've been away from home for two weeks. I haven't seen my family or friends in two weeks (Side note: I found it funny as I scrolled through friends' new photos on fb and made a note of how everyone looks different. I really don't know how to explain that one. Do we really change in appearance in a matter of weeks... Ooooor, are my eyes fixed to facial structures of SouthEast Asians? Ionno)
I think I've written enough today. This is possibly the most, since and to come. It's going to be quite a chore typing this up ((Note from the future: Word. It's been almost a month))
Tuesday, July 20; Andi's Room; 3:52pm
As much as I feel like a foreigner in my own city, I can't imagine this experience alleviating those feelings. As I grow familiar and fond of this surrounding culture, I can't imagine how I'll feel leaving it for home.
I've always felt socially displaced at home, never quite finding the fitting jigsaw ieces to settle between. India kind of helps put things into perspective. The common gaps ("Doors will open on the left. Mind the gap") between India's own people are social, all the same. Economics are also a big deal. I did feel a bit foolish carrying a huge bag of graceries from one of the upper scale stores. We went to the only known store to us with shopping carts today. Woopie! We found all the little items we'd been meaning to stock up on, like a loaf of bread, jam for Josiah, mixed crunchy something or other, detergent, and a replenish of Andi's biscuit supply. Our total came to 600-something rupees and I felt totally rich.. until we translated it to dollars. We walked out of that store with more than we could imagine, all for around twelve dollars. Total score. I set the items up to photograph our finds, mostly trying to stay mindful of our possessions.
I think something major for a lot of us is maintaining a mindfulness of what we've got. We make list after list of things we haven't got without making lists of all that we still have with us. Bottom line, I wish to always be mindful of what I have to avoid lingering thoughts on that which I do not.
Simple?
I was looking at a calendar an hour or two ago and realized how few days I have left here. As I was saying, I've grown a bit attached to the surrounding chaos of culture, beauty in poverty and empathy for minorities.
I wish I could elaborate on a lot more. I don't know if I ever will be able to.
I still don't really know what effect my being here will have on myself or those I encounter on the metro, on the streets, or in the makeshift classrooms. Oh well.. ..
Today I finally went with Josiah to Wazzipur. I didn't realize that's where I was until after, nor did I think to ever ocnsider it a slum.
I loved the setup of the buildings. I really have grown fond of a lot of the architecture. I noticed (couldn't help it actually) just how physically close everyone and everything was to eachother. They can't avoid it. The homes are so ridiculously set up, stacked up, right next to the other. Does this mean money buys us space? Keep us arms reach from neighbors? Close enough to have neighbors, yet far enough to avoid acknowledgment.
It seems nice not having a choice. Even if that equates to a slum here.
The kids in Wazzipur were wonderful. If it weren't for that pesky language barrier, we would have left knowing everything about eachother, I'm sure. They all seemed to want help in math, which is fun. We learned about Edges and Corners. Straight edges. Curved edges. Corners occur where two straight edges meet. They grasped that fairly well.
Then we progressed to the basics. Addition was easy-peasy. Subtraction took its toll on a few. There was some obvious competition amongst friends. Who can figure it out the fastest? It was fun watching them try. It remained difficult for a few so Josiah got to continue with that little group. The rest of us carried onto multiplication. That was better. At one point I made a question with an answer much too involved to get quickly and I struggled with the answer haha. We finished with giving them a few homework problems and all were on their way.
I've always felt socially displaced at home, never quite finding the fitting jigsaw ieces to settle between. India kind of helps put things into perspective. The common gaps ("Doors will open on the left. Mind the gap") between India's own people are social, all the same. Economics are also a big deal. I did feel a bit foolish carrying a huge bag of graceries from one of the upper scale stores. We went to the only known store to us with shopping carts today. Woopie! We found all the little items we'd been meaning to stock up on, like a loaf of bread, jam for Josiah, mixed crunchy something or other, detergent, and a replenish of Andi's biscuit supply. Our total came to 600-something rupees and I felt totally rich.. until we translated it to dollars. We walked out of that store with more than we could imagine, all for around twelve dollars. Total score. I set the items up to photograph our finds, mostly trying to stay mindful of our possessions.
I think something major for a lot of us is maintaining a mindfulness of what we've got. We make list after list of things we haven't got without making lists of all that we still have with us. Bottom line, I wish to always be mindful of what I have to avoid lingering thoughts on that which I do not.
Simple?
I was looking at a calendar an hour or two ago and realized how few days I have left here. As I was saying, I've grown a bit attached to the surrounding chaos of culture, beauty in poverty and empathy for minorities.
I wish I could elaborate on a lot more. I don't know if I ever will be able to.
I still don't really know what effect my being here will have on myself or those I encounter on the metro, on the streets, or in the makeshift classrooms. Oh well.. ..
Today I finally went with Josiah to Wazzipur. I didn't realize that's where I was until after, nor did I think to ever ocnsider it a slum.
I loved the setup of the buildings. I really have grown fond of a lot of the architecture. I noticed (couldn't help it actually) just how physically close everyone and everything was to eachother. They can't avoid it. The homes are so ridiculously set up, stacked up, right next to the other. Does this mean money buys us space? Keep us arms reach from neighbors? Close enough to have neighbors, yet far enough to avoid acknowledgment.
It seems nice not having a choice. Even if that equates to a slum here.
The kids in Wazzipur were wonderful. If it weren't for that pesky language barrier, we would have left knowing everything about eachother, I'm sure. They all seemed to want help in math, which is fun. We learned about Edges and Corners. Straight edges. Curved edges. Corners occur where two straight edges meet. They grasped that fairly well.
Then we progressed to the basics. Addition was easy-peasy. Subtraction took its toll on a few. There was some obvious competition amongst friends. Who can figure it out the fastest? It was fun watching them try. It remained difficult for a few so Josiah got to continue with that little group. The rest of us carried onto multiplication. That was better. At one point I made a question with an answer much too involved to get quickly and I struggled with the answer haha. We finished with giving them a few homework problems and all were on their way.
7.29.2010
Saturday, July 17; Andi's Room!
We've officially moved into Andi's. It really is rather cozy. Friendly. I'd say warm, but it's really much more cool. She's wonderful.
I feel rather extravagant though. Regardless, I'm well fed, in good health, and now there's air conditioning in one room. My scalp has fully dried for the first time since we've been here. Last night I was legitimately cold, scrambling for a blanket in my midnight stupors. And it felt so good. I woke up ready for the day. Prepared. As much as I feel like I haven't done enought (because by comparison, everyone's always on the move here), this not doing enough is still exhausting. I really don't know how everyone lives in motion here.
I think it lets me realize how incredibly blessed we are. I am.
I just finished Rob Bell's "Jesus Wants to Save Christians." He speaks of the empires and their feelings of entitlement and the chaim of accumulation and fear. A lot to think about.. avoiding the entitlement..
As much as I didn't assume it to be a possibility, these kids recharge me. Their silliness abounds. They are a delight and irresistible. Every single one.
Chapel is beautiful. Their play is beautiful. They are beautiful. I don't know how we couldn't spen time off with them. I feel very blessed to be here. They are like no other.
I feel rather extravagant though. Regardless, I'm well fed, in good health, and now there's air conditioning in one room. My scalp has fully dried for the first time since we've been here. Last night I was legitimately cold, scrambling for a blanket in my midnight stupors. And it felt so good. I woke up ready for the day. Prepared. As much as I feel like I haven't done enought (because by comparison, everyone's always on the move here), this not doing enough is still exhausting. I really don't know how everyone lives in motion here.
I think it lets me realize how incredibly blessed we are. I am.
I just finished Rob Bell's "Jesus Wants to Save Christians." He speaks of the empires and their feelings of entitlement and the chaim of accumulation and fear. A lot to think about.. avoiding the entitlement..
As much as I didn't assume it to be a possibility, these kids recharge me. Their silliness abounds. They are a delight and irresistible. Every single one.
Chapel is beautiful. Their play is beautiful. They are beautiful. I don't know how we couldn't spen time off with them. I feel very blessed to be here. They are like no other.
Thursday, July 15; Room
I've decided
1. I need more kids in my life
2. I need to cook more
3. I need to eat more potatoes
We went to Andi's last night and helped out with chapel. She put it very nicely afterwards about how I feel about them. They're irresistible. Entirely.
It also got me thinking. They have chapel every night. Every single night ((Side note from the future: turns out they have chapel twice daily)). They sing, shout, dance, eagerly flip through their bibles (in Hindi..pretty awesome). Why don't we have chapels every night? Are we not in this to win this? I feel like the meager two hours put in, practically marking it on time cards, while thoughts are on rumbling stomachs or football games being missed... I feel that if that's the best we can do, I'm a little embarrassed of myself.
I've felt this way for a while, as I am all too accustomed to Sunday midday groans. We all know we should want it all more.. There are so many other religions, groups and oddball philosophies that elicit a stronger, more consistent following.. yet we'd rather congest ourselves in other matters. Just don't feel right.
1. I need more kids in my life
2. I need to cook more
3. I need to eat more potatoes
We went to Andi's last night and helped out with chapel. She put it very nicely afterwards about how I feel about them. They're irresistible. Entirely.
It also got me thinking. They have chapel every night. Every single night ((Side note from the future: turns out they have chapel twice daily)). They sing, shout, dance, eagerly flip through their bibles (in Hindi..pretty awesome). Why don't we have chapels every night? Are we not in this to win this? I feel like the meager two hours put in, practically marking it on time cards, while thoughts are on rumbling stomachs or football games being missed... I feel that if that's the best we can do, I'm a little embarrassed of myself.
I've felt this way for a while, as I am all too accustomed to Sunday midday groans. We all know we should want it all more.. There are so many other religions, groups and oddball philosophies that elicit a stronger, more consistent following.. yet we'd rather congest ourselves in other matters. Just don't feel right.
Wednesday, July 14; My Room
It's 4:17am here. Everyone's asleep. I was asleep. I dreamt of home and my family. I dreamt of being in Willow Station's Savemart. It was somehow my house. I sat in an aisle and cleaned our fridge with my dad. I took out bottles from the lowest shelf on the door as my dad went through the inside shelves. I cleaned out bags of old, half used onions, sticky bottles of cioppino.
Then I was with Brandon going through our baking stuff. We had three bags of different types of flour. I thought to myself how they would be great for making Indian doughs when I got back. Then we walked around other aisles, fighting over who got to push the cart.. who HAS to push the cart, rather. We met this happy little man at the end of one of the aisles. He asked for our names and smiled at us, in an extremely Indian manner.
Even in this dream I had to refrain fro touching, kissing, holding Josiah in front of this man. Hands off. Keep a distance. Retain tradition. Josiah was kept at the Check Out as I continued running around the store. I wasn't really there to shop though. It was also my home. It was empty except for my family and the happy man at the other side of the aisle.
As we left the store, I was in a familiar scenario with familiar surroundings. Brandon and I were walking behind mom, carrying groceries. We were on our way to the car to get back home, but there was an oddity to the feeling of just going home. Just like that. I started saying, "I guess this means I go back to Delhi now. It won't take too long, right?" I knew somehow that I couldn't stay and go home with them.
And it was here that I think I've fully realized how far and out of the way I am. I'm entirely unable to just go home. Just like that.
I woke up crying pretty hard.
I question more strongly everyday how this is affecting me. Barely a week into this trip, still acclimating to the people, weather, time.. and I already know I'm doomed, in the best of ways. This past week has crept up on me, exclaiming that this is the way of normalcy. This is right. This is how it is.
What does this mean for me? Am I here to be broken down to pieces, lying in crumbs like the sidewalks all around me? Probably.
Then I was with Brandon going through our baking stuff. We had three bags of different types of flour. I thought to myself how they would be great for making Indian doughs when I got back. Then we walked around other aisles, fighting over who got to push the cart.. who HAS to push the cart, rather. We met this happy little man at the end of one of the aisles. He asked for our names and smiled at us, in an extremely Indian manner.
Even in this dream I had to refrain fro touching, kissing, holding Josiah in front of this man. Hands off. Keep a distance. Retain tradition. Josiah was kept at the Check Out as I continued running around the store. I wasn't really there to shop though. It was also my home. It was empty except for my family and the happy man at the other side of the aisle.
As we left the store, I was in a familiar scenario with familiar surroundings. Brandon and I were walking behind mom, carrying groceries. We were on our way to the car to get back home, but there was an oddity to the feeling of just going home. Just like that. I started saying, "I guess this means I go back to Delhi now. It won't take too long, right?" I knew somehow that I couldn't stay and go home with them.
And it was here that I think I've fully realized how far and out of the way I am. I'm entirely unable to just go home. Just like that.
I woke up crying pretty hard.
I question more strongly everyday how this is affecting me. Barely a week into this trip, still acclimating to the people, weather, time.. and I already know I'm doomed, in the best of ways. This past week has crept up on me, exclaiming that this is the way of normalcy. This is right. This is how it is.
What does this mean for me? Am I here to be broken down to pieces, lying in crumbs like the sidewalks all around me? Probably.
7.22.2010
Tuesday, July 13; Same Place...I don't move around much
It's too hot to do much.
Breathe.
Wear normal clothes.
Think.
Sleep.
Not be sticky.
Have hair.
Cuddle.
Want to still be here.
The weather is definitely something to get used to. I may or may not have just heard thunder clouds. I can only hope.
I'm feeling a bit tonr as to why I'm actually here. On the one hand, I know it's an incredible experience or something. On the other, I feel useless. Too small. Of no value.
Question: If something has no value, is its value zero?
Nevermind.
Josiah just gathered his hunting gear and tools to set out at night with intent of bringing back sustenance. We are having the wonderfully ethnic KFC this evening. I hear their side dishes are Indian, although.. I really want something Amurrican.
Guess those weren't thunder clouds afterall. Unless thunder sounds like large trucks and the perpetual honks of oncoming traffic.
I'm too tired to be stared at anymore and I don't like it. For the first time, I'm unable to smile or nod at anyone. I'm more annoyed and exhausted than friendly lately...and I don't like it. It's really refreshig when someone smiles back, but those seem to only come from children. I've found myself extremely friendly with the shorter crowd.
We went to the lovely Qureshi's house in South Delhi toay. Shamim was kind enough to escort us around, and show pictures of ALL his family (including the extended ones at the schools he teaches). Once we got there, I found safety in the neighborhoods. There I found some of the Western/Brit incfluenced charm of this city. Trees, huge and plenty.
One thing I've learned to accept about most (if not all) of Delhi is that nothing is ever built to last. Most sidewalks are in shambles. There are some impressive high rises, but even those have seen better (safer) days. Most store fronts are built up with cardboard scraps as overhangs, walls, and signs. Iiii don't know.
"Work In Progress." Signs saying this can be seen all over the place. They're pretty accurate, even in matters not of construction.
In the midst of all the renovations, upkeeps, tearing down and overall transience, St. Stephens stays the same. Quiet. . . except for the moving of furniture that can be heard all hours of the night. We don't really know what's going on upstairs. Yesterday, Ramnat knocked, came in my room and took a small table. No big deal. He returned in a few minutes, table in hand and smled as he put it back in it's place. He then smiled and pointed at the big desk. The desk that held all my food, books, medications, and various other things in need of a desk. I couldn't say no to that little man though. I helped him haul it out to the stairway. I suspect that desk of mine is now part of the midnight furniture moving. Do these nuns ever sleep?
Breathe.
Wear normal clothes.
Think.
Sleep.
Not be sticky.
Have hair.
Cuddle.
Want to still be here.
The weather is definitely something to get used to. I may or may not have just heard thunder clouds. I can only hope.
I'm feeling a bit tonr as to why I'm actually here. On the one hand, I know it's an incredible experience or something. On the other, I feel useless. Too small. Of no value.
Question: If something has no value, is its value zero?
Nevermind.
Josiah just gathered his hunting gear and tools to set out at night with intent of bringing back sustenance. We are having the wonderfully ethnic KFC this evening. I hear their side dishes are Indian, although.. I really want something Amurrican.
Guess those weren't thunder clouds afterall. Unless thunder sounds like large trucks and the perpetual honks of oncoming traffic.
I'm too tired to be stared at anymore and I don't like it. For the first time, I'm unable to smile or nod at anyone. I'm more annoyed and exhausted than friendly lately...and I don't like it. It's really refreshig when someone smiles back, but those seem to only come from children. I've found myself extremely friendly with the shorter crowd.
We went to the lovely Qureshi's house in South Delhi toay. Shamim was kind enough to escort us around, and show pictures of ALL his family (including the extended ones at the schools he teaches). Once we got there, I found safety in the neighborhoods. There I found some of the Western/Brit incfluenced charm of this city. Trees, huge and plenty.
One thing I've learned to accept about most (if not all) of Delhi is that nothing is ever built to last. Most sidewalks are in shambles. There are some impressive high rises, but even those have seen better (safer) days. Most store fronts are built up with cardboard scraps as overhangs, walls, and signs. Iiii don't know.
"Work In Progress." Signs saying this can be seen all over the place. They're pretty accurate, even in matters not of construction.
In the midst of all the renovations, upkeeps, tearing down and overall transience, St. Stephens stays the same. Quiet. . . except for the moving of furniture that can be heard all hours of the night. We don't really know what's going on upstairs. Yesterday, Ramnat knocked, came in my room and took a small table. No big deal. He returned in a few minutes, table in hand and smled as he put it back in it's place. He then smiled and pointed at the big desk. The desk that held all my food, books, medications, and various other things in need of a desk. I couldn't say no to that little man though. I helped him haul it out to the stairway. I suspect that desk of mine is now part of the midnight furniture moving. Do these nuns ever sleep?
7.21.2010
Monday, July 12; Backyard, again
The first day here, Josiah took me on a walk down to the local shops. The 15-minute walk in itself was too much to bear. St. Stephens has quickly become my safe haven. The people are friendly, their eyes don't linger, the food and water are safe and tasty, and there are cold showers. My room and this backyard have become my refuge.
The walk was nothing extraordinary. We crossed over the perpetual traffic from the Metro bridge and were soon greeted by India's numerous smells, rickshaw drivers eagerly awaiting eye contact, and the broken streets and buildings that is Delhi, as it turns out. I don't even remember what we went out for, but I was ready to turn around.
The walk also brought a word to mind. Now I'm no English major and I certainly don't abuse my dictionary ((I did however use it so much since being here that the battery died in the little electronic one Josiah brought along. I'm kinda sad without it. I need to go find one)), but one word made a huge impression on me. Pestillence. I had no clue what it meant, but it stuck. Pestillence.
Roughly speaking, pestillence means destructive, injuring, and deadly. I was scared to learn how perfect it seemed to apply. And as if that harsh wordage weren't enough, later in the day, Virulent took its place. Virulent is more or less infectious, with the same negativity as the first word of the day. What a perfect first impression of the place I am to call home for the month. Great.
The next few days were spent sleeping, sweating, showering, and slowly growing used to and becoming part of my surroundings. We're only on our fourth day and I already have the Metro and its stops down.
It's kind of difficult to put things chronologically. The past few days have felt like weeks and the events are just as scattered as this city.
Yesterday, Sunday, we awoke around the usual time: 6:30am. Who would have thunk that would be our usual? The day began quickly and full of activity. After spending 10 rupees on enough clothing detergent to last some weeks, we attempted laundry. Bucket laundry in the shower. It was effective, I guess. My clothes smell a little more like dirt, but it's just the air. Everything was line dried and it turned out to be quite romantic.
With everything set out to dry, making jokes of monsoons coming and soiling our cleaning efforts once again, we adventurously spread out the Metro map and began plotting the day. Where to? Gardens? Parks? Shopping?.. That would have been too tame (and some too far) for my taste. We broke out our handy dandy Delhi book for ideas. Looking at pictures and relation to the church we were to go to that night, Red Fort was screaming our names. He'd never been, I'd obviously never been.. perfect. Let's go!
It marked my first auto-rickshaw, bike rickshaw, and overpriced tourist fee. Well worth it. It was massive and in the middle of all the chaos. I probably expected a clean, cleared out space with plenty of parking and elevators. Buuut it was literally in the middle of all the other crumbling buildings, except it was very well kept. (How is it that older pieces of architecture are outlasting the newer ones?) It was overlooked, but hardly possibly of being forgotten. As with most things, much better in person.
So full of history, yet smack dab in the middle of an every attempting-modern city.
It opens with sec-urr-it-ee (My favorite!) ((No, really... I love that there are security lines everywhere we go and especially that there are men and "ladies" lines. The lady cops are really nice))
(((Side note: Turns out Mondays are Burn Your Trash Outside day. Looks like the black flames in the corner will force me inside. Gah)))
**cough,cough**
Inside Red Fort was an array of marble palaces, rich hallways, and lush gardens. As always, we were huge, white targets for scammig. This one tour guide claimed to be from San Jose after we said California...whatever you say. He was friendly though.. even if he wasn't convincing.
While there, our first rain of the trip happened. Recalling the jokes over laundry, it was a little bemusing. Oh well, it was cold and oh, so refreshing. As if on cue, all the crowds dispersed from open areas, running wildly for shelter. Like the big, white targets we are, we continued our tour with every intent of getting soaked.
Walking out of the place, we noticed the usual long line that can be found anywhere you go. Upon further inspection, this line grew into a swarm of at least 300 only waiting for security. We picked a good time to get there. And leave.
After that, some guy punched me. We were just walking down the steps into the Metro station. As much as Indians are into touching and pushing and shoving, there's no need for his back-handed brutality. I'm just lucky, I guess.
Standing in line for our Metro, India decided to show me yet again how many freaking people it has. This time, it came to me in the form of a completely, way overpacked metro. There were smushed faces, arms and legs everywhere, and no chance in hell we were going to push our way in htere. We sat that one out. And the next one. And the next. Apparently, the busiest line, at the busiest station, at the busiest time of day decided to break down. Oh Canada!
By the time we hopped on, the crowds had tamed to a 50%-chance-of-having-your-face-in-someone-elses-armpit.. and then I was pinched in the butt. Feeling too surreal to realize how violated I had been that day, we went home. To the garden. Shower. And luckily some dry laundry!
Quite a day.
The walk was nothing extraordinary. We crossed over the perpetual traffic from the Metro bridge and were soon greeted by India's numerous smells, rickshaw drivers eagerly awaiting eye contact, and the broken streets and buildings that is Delhi, as it turns out. I don't even remember what we went out for, but I was ready to turn around.
The walk also brought a word to mind. Now I'm no English major and I certainly don't abuse my dictionary ((I did however use it so much since being here that the battery died in the little electronic one Josiah brought along. I'm kinda sad without it. I need to go find one)), but one word made a huge impression on me. Pestillence. I had no clue what it meant, but it stuck. Pestillence.
Roughly speaking, pestillence means destructive, injuring, and deadly. I was scared to learn how perfect it seemed to apply. And as if that harsh wordage weren't enough, later in the day, Virulent took its place. Virulent is more or less infectious, with the same negativity as the first word of the day. What a perfect first impression of the place I am to call home for the month. Great.
The next few days were spent sleeping, sweating, showering, and slowly growing used to and becoming part of my surroundings. We're only on our fourth day and I already have the Metro and its stops down.
It's kind of difficult to put things chronologically. The past few days have felt like weeks and the events are just as scattered as this city.
Yesterday, Sunday, we awoke around the usual time: 6:30am. Who would have thunk that would be our usual? The day began quickly and full of activity. After spending 10 rupees on enough clothing detergent to last some weeks, we attempted laundry. Bucket laundry in the shower. It was effective, I guess. My clothes smell a little more like dirt, but it's just the air. Everything was line dried and it turned out to be quite romantic.
With everything set out to dry, making jokes of monsoons coming and soiling our cleaning efforts once again, we adventurously spread out the Metro map and began plotting the day. Where to? Gardens? Parks? Shopping?.. That would have been too tame (and some too far) for my taste. We broke out our handy dandy Delhi book for ideas. Looking at pictures and relation to the church we were to go to that night, Red Fort was screaming our names. He'd never been, I'd obviously never been.. perfect. Let's go!
It marked my first auto-rickshaw, bike rickshaw, and overpriced tourist fee. Well worth it. It was massive and in the middle of all the chaos. I probably expected a clean, cleared out space with plenty of parking and elevators. Buuut it was literally in the middle of all the other crumbling buildings, except it was very well kept. (How is it that older pieces of architecture are outlasting the newer ones?) It was overlooked, but hardly possibly of being forgotten. As with most things, much better in person.
So full of history, yet smack dab in the middle of an every attempting-modern city.
It opens with sec-urr-it-ee (My favorite!) ((No, really... I love that there are security lines everywhere we go and especially that there are men and "ladies" lines. The lady cops are really nice))
(((Side note: Turns out Mondays are Burn Your Trash Outside day. Looks like the black flames in the corner will force me inside. Gah)))
**cough,cough**
Inside Red Fort was an array of marble palaces, rich hallways, and lush gardens. As always, we were huge, white targets for scammig. This one tour guide claimed to be from San Jose after we said California...whatever you say. He was friendly though.. even if he wasn't convincing.
While there, our first rain of the trip happened. Recalling the jokes over laundry, it was a little bemusing. Oh well, it was cold and oh, so refreshing. As if on cue, all the crowds dispersed from open areas, running wildly for shelter. Like the big, white targets we are, we continued our tour with every intent of getting soaked.
Walking out of the place, we noticed the usual long line that can be found anywhere you go. Upon further inspection, this line grew into a swarm of at least 300 only waiting for security. We picked a good time to get there. And leave.
After that, some guy punched me. We were just walking down the steps into the Metro station. As much as Indians are into touching and pushing and shoving, there's no need for his back-handed brutality. I'm just lucky, I guess.
Standing in line for our Metro, India decided to show me yet again how many freaking people it has. This time, it came to me in the form of a completely, way overpacked metro. There were smushed faces, arms and legs everywhere, and no chance in hell we were going to push our way in htere. We sat that one out. And the next one. And the next. Apparently, the busiest line, at the busiest station, at the busiest time of day decided to break down. Oh Canada!
By the time we hopped on, the crowds had tamed to a 50%-chance-of-having-your-face-in-someone-elses-armpit.. and then I was pinched in the butt. Feeling too surreal to realize how violated I had been that day, we went home. To the garden. Shower. And luckily some dry laundry!
Quite a day.
Saturday, July 10; St. Stephen's Backyard
I don't know what to say. Words escape me most of the day. If Josiah weren't here, I wouldn't talk at all, I don't think.
It's a beautiful morning today. I'd like to compare it to yesterday, but I slept all day. I cannot think of another time when I've been so thoroughly exhausted. My eyes would not stay open, could not stay open. I've dreamt of planes, the hostel, and other things recently seen.
I still can't comprehend that 1) I went on not one, but THREE planes, and 2)I'm not an hour or two away from home. Nothing has been too drastic luckily. The plane rides were smooth. There were no major disturbances...except for the most intense, uncomfortable gas (haha.. I just want to keep everyone informed). It kept me from sleeping very much, but by the time we were Delhi-bound from Chicago, things calmed down. I calmed down.
There were these nifty litle tv screens on the back of everyone's seats that kept me entertained (along with a nifty little boyfriend).
On that plane, I was consistently in and out of sleep, having the most vivid dreams. In one, my doctor was flying the plane very low to the ground, flying into other little planes over a very European-esque field full of those Dutch windmills flying the Japanese flag. (As I should realize later, this is but a side effect of the Malarone heh)
I really enjoyed that airport...after standing in a sweaty line in a large sweaty room full of more sweaty lines. Customs was quick and painless. After we gathered our luggage and proceeded to the front of the airport to find Andi, we walked up to something too incredible. Standing, pushing, shoving, staring on the sidelines of the walkway was over a hundred Indian men (and a couple women, I'm sure in a literal sense), eagerly waiting for friends, family, slaves (who knows). Each one was dressed differently, but in the most wonderful middle eastern dress. It looked exactly like a posterboard of people we're told to avoid, and here I was in the middle of it. It was surreal...yet too real to whip out a camera and ask everyone to say cheese.
After a bit, I stumbled upon Andi on my way to do sooomething. She is the most comforting, wonderful, friendly person. Her presence eased any nerves. We skedaddled shortly and took it all in as the India-fied Andi bartered and maneuvered our way to St. Stephens.
The taxi ride to our place of stay was a wonderful first, or second, or third impression of this place. I learned something significant overstuffed in a little peanut car, travelling on the left side of a road full of cars without much regards to individual car lanes...everything is still good having zero control over the situation. That part is very new to me. I usually know where I'm going, how far away it is, how it relates to the location of my house, the sorts of people I will run into, the usual smells I will encounter, and what to do in case something comes up. In any event, I draw a blank here.
I know no one, I couldn't even speak to them to get to know them. I don't know where that smell is originating. I don't know if touching this will get me sick. I don't know if eating that will send me in a frantic flurry to the toilet. I don't know what's happening one street away. I don't really know what's happening beyond my door. I really don't know much.
I have learned a few things though. Not everything is unfamiliar. There is worse traffic (louder, as well) than at 5 o'clock on Herndon. A car backfiring sounds an awful lot like a gunshot, yes. The metro horn is loud and unexpectant and if you happen to jump and cover your ears, people will look at you the rest of the ride home (more so than the usual stares). The water at St. Stephens is ok (sorry mom...I had no other choice as I lay in a pile of sweat on my cot...rupee-less and trying to ration the last drops from the same bottle I had on the plane). McDonalds is half the cost here. No, not all lonely duffle bags should be feared (I'm still here!). Josiah is wonderfully patient and understanding. Being stared at with a disapproving look doesn't usually mean I'm being disapproved of (I haven't grasped this to the fullest yet). I indeed can shower with my mouth closed. India is a beautiful ruin.
I got the best look yet at htis city on the ride from the airport. Everything was dark, the air was sticky, the smells were plenty, and all of the buildings looked like they were crumbling. Even the more recent buildings had a demolished look. It was one of the most beautiful things I've experienced yet.
Aside from the wonderful Andi, we've met a couple other who speak English. Our first breakfast here was spent with Vidya(?), an elderly, retired nurse who lived at the retirement home next door. She was very sweet and stressed a few times that life has meaning. Every life has a meaning, so you should live accordingly. Don't waste it.
We think she has Alzheimer's because after an afternoon jaunt, she interestingly asked us where we were from again and questions we had heard over the morning meal. She's my favorite.
Later in the day, after we woke up enough to scavange for food, we met a young nurse, much closer to our age, Francine(?) ((It's really hard to learn names because even if they're typical to us, the accents are easy to throw our understanding off)). She's a beautiful Indian girl who is staying here as well. She works at the St. Stephen's hospital down the street and enjoys the quiet of this place. I don't blame here...beyond the walls is a fast-paced, loud little community that I find myself needing a break of after one day.
It's a beautiful morning today. I'd like to compare it to yesterday, but I slept all day. I cannot think of another time when I've been so thoroughly exhausted. My eyes would not stay open, could not stay open. I've dreamt of planes, the hostel, and other things recently seen.
I still can't comprehend that 1) I went on not one, but THREE planes, and 2)I'm not an hour or two away from home. Nothing has been too drastic luckily. The plane rides were smooth. There were no major disturbances...except for the most intense, uncomfortable gas (haha.. I just want to keep everyone informed). It kept me from sleeping very much, but by the time we were Delhi-bound from Chicago, things calmed down. I calmed down.
There were these nifty litle tv screens on the back of everyone's seats that kept me entertained (along with a nifty little boyfriend).
On that plane, I was consistently in and out of sleep, having the most vivid dreams. In one, my doctor was flying the plane very low to the ground, flying into other little planes over a very European-esque field full of those Dutch windmills flying the Japanese flag. (As I should realize later, this is but a side effect of the Malarone heh)
I really enjoyed that airport...after standing in a sweaty line in a large sweaty room full of more sweaty lines. Customs was quick and painless. After we gathered our luggage and proceeded to the front of the airport to find Andi, we walked up to something too incredible. Standing, pushing, shoving, staring on the sidelines of the walkway was over a hundred Indian men (and a couple women, I'm sure in a literal sense), eagerly waiting for friends, family, slaves (who knows). Each one was dressed differently, but in the most wonderful middle eastern dress. It looked exactly like a posterboard of people we're told to avoid, and here I was in the middle of it. It was surreal...yet too real to whip out a camera and ask everyone to say cheese.
After a bit, I stumbled upon Andi on my way to do sooomething. She is the most comforting, wonderful, friendly person. Her presence eased any nerves. We skedaddled shortly and took it all in as the India-fied Andi bartered and maneuvered our way to St. Stephens.
The taxi ride to our place of stay was a wonderful first, or second, or third impression of this place. I learned something significant overstuffed in a little peanut car, travelling on the left side of a road full of cars without much regards to individual car lanes...everything is still good having zero control over the situation. That part is very new to me. I usually know where I'm going, how far away it is, how it relates to the location of my house, the sorts of people I will run into, the usual smells I will encounter, and what to do in case something comes up. In any event, I draw a blank here.
I know no one, I couldn't even speak to them to get to know them. I don't know where that smell is originating. I don't know if touching this will get me sick. I don't know if eating that will send me in a frantic flurry to the toilet. I don't know what's happening one street away. I don't really know what's happening beyond my door. I really don't know much.
I have learned a few things though. Not everything is unfamiliar. There is worse traffic (louder, as well) than at 5 o'clock on Herndon. A car backfiring sounds an awful lot like a gunshot, yes. The metro horn is loud and unexpectant and if you happen to jump and cover your ears, people will look at you the rest of the ride home (more so than the usual stares). The water at St. Stephens is ok (sorry mom...I had no other choice as I lay in a pile of sweat on my cot...rupee-less and trying to ration the last drops from the same bottle I had on the plane). McDonalds is half the cost here. No, not all lonely duffle bags should be feared (I'm still here!). Josiah is wonderfully patient and understanding. Being stared at with a disapproving look doesn't usually mean I'm being disapproved of (I haven't grasped this to the fullest yet). I indeed can shower with my mouth closed. India is a beautiful ruin.
I got the best look yet at htis city on the ride from the airport. Everything was dark, the air was sticky, the smells were plenty, and all of the buildings looked like they were crumbling. Even the more recent buildings had a demolished look. It was one of the most beautiful things I've experienced yet.
Aside from the wonderful Andi, we've met a couple other who speak English. Our first breakfast here was spent with Vidya(?), an elderly, retired nurse who lived at the retirement home next door. She was very sweet and stressed a few times that life has meaning. Every life has a meaning, so you should live accordingly. Don't waste it.
We think she has Alzheimer's because after an afternoon jaunt, she interestingly asked us where we were from again and questions we had heard over the morning meal. She's my favorite.
Later in the day, after we woke up enough to scavange for food, we met a young nurse, much closer to our age, Francine(?) ((It's really hard to learn names because even if they're typical to us, the accents are easy to throw our understanding off)). She's a beautiful Indian girl who is staying here as well. She works at the St. Stephen's hospital down the street and enjoys the quiet of this place. I don't blame here...beyond the walls is a fast-paced, loud little community that I find myself needing a break of after one day.
7.12.2010
Keep Your Nose Out of My Naan, Pt. I
Hello hello hello!
The monsoon has hit! haha. I'm sitting in the wonderful Andi's apartment, having my first taste of internet and apparently my first taste of monsoon! Holy moly, it's raining! The weather is quite bearable thankfully. Oh my goodness, this is quite intense. Good thing we didn't do laundry today :]
Seeing as how I'd probably fly away should I attempt the short jaunt to the chapel, I might as well keep typing. Thus far, it's been good health, good spirits, and good people. Ohmy.. and good food. Good Josiah. Good everything, mostly. The planes went well. The weather's a bit rough to get used to. I might have a bit of a heat rash, but nothing too serious.
I'm trying to think of things to say, but I can't get over this rain! And I'm all alone. Scared much? Meh, not really. Thankful for a drop in temperature.
I don't know when it will be safe to go outside so I plan to upload some pictures while I'm at it. I just took a video of it, hopefully the sound is accurate.
As it turns out, no one is phased by this. Silly American girl.
Things are real. Things are fun. Things are real fun.
Hope to talk to some more of you later.
And Grandpa... I ate Micky-D's my first day here, but was still a little too nervous to break out the camera haha. I still have a bit of a tourist complex. I'm stared at enough!
Much love.
The monsoon has hit! haha. I'm sitting in the wonderful Andi's apartment, having my first taste of internet and apparently my first taste of monsoon! Holy moly, it's raining! The weather is quite bearable thankfully. Oh my goodness, this is quite intense. Good thing we didn't do laundry today :]
Seeing as how I'd probably fly away should I attempt the short jaunt to the chapel, I might as well keep typing. Thus far, it's been good health, good spirits, and good people. Ohmy.. and good food. Good Josiah. Good everything, mostly. The planes went well. The weather's a bit rough to get used to. I might have a bit of a heat rash, but nothing too serious.
I'm trying to think of things to say, but I can't get over this rain! And I'm all alone. Scared much? Meh, not really. Thankful for a drop in temperature.
I don't know when it will be safe to go outside so I plan to upload some pictures while I'm at it. I just took a video of it, hopefully the sound is accurate.
As it turns out, no one is phased by this. Silly American girl.
Things are real. Things are fun. Things are real fun.
Hope to talk to some more of you later.
And Grandpa... I ate Micky-D's my first day here, but was still a little too nervous to break out the camera haha. I still have a bit of a tourist complex. I'm stared at enough!
Much love.
7.04.2010
Feeling Stripe-ish
So it's happened. I've lost most of my ability to sleep. Restlessness has taken over. Maybe I'm preparing myself for the time shift? Yeah, I don't think so either. I'm completely tired, running on carbs and tap water with very little to keep me interested in staying awake, yet here I am. Oh well.
The excitement is growing, however! I experienced a spike in my mood from the simple shoes and pads of paper I picked up today. There's something about said products that really makes me happy. I can't say the same thing about the anti-diarrhea meds I had to buy.. gives me the heeby-jeebies.
I've been reading a lot of wonderful books lately. There's one, especially, that has pounded me against the wall with relevance. I knew it bore influence when I reached for it on a high, library shelf, opened it to inspect the potential damage to my time, and it fell directly open to page 147, Chapter 7: Mahatma Gandhi, Echoes in a Strange Land. I think I looked around to see if I was being watched.
This book also introduced me to other beautiful minds.. most notably, G.K Chesterton and Henri Nouwen. Catholic orthodoxy, ready or not..
I'm going to be making a library list of the books on my shelves. Someone has to read them, and that someone can be you! I'll try to get that up shortly. If you see anything interesting, you can come get it yourself!
Much love.
The excitement is growing, however! I experienced a spike in my mood from the simple shoes and pads of paper I picked up today. There's something about said products that really makes me happy. I can't say the same thing about the anti-diarrhea meds I had to buy.. gives me the heeby-jeebies.
I've been reading a lot of wonderful books lately. There's one, especially, that has pounded me against the wall with relevance. I knew it bore influence when I reached for it on a high, library shelf, opened it to inspect the potential damage to my time, and it fell directly open to page 147, Chapter 7: Mahatma Gandhi, Echoes in a Strange Land. I think I looked around to see if I was being watched.
This book also introduced me to other beautiful minds.. most notably, G.K Chesterton and Henri Nouwen. Catholic orthodoxy, ready or not..
I'm going to be making a library list of the books on my shelves. Someone has to read them, and that someone can be you! I'll try to get that up shortly. If you see anything interesting, you can come get it yourself!
Much love.
7.02.2010
वेयर दीद अल माय स्लीप गो?
Heya. I opened this up to provide convenience to my innermost thoughts and dreams, epiphanies and words of wisdom during my stay in India. Not really..but if my mind were a slurpee, blogspot would be a 7-11. Or something.
I figure I should post an introductory to this all. I choose not to start for myself or anyone in particular, but to remove the daunting 'No Posts' reminder on the page. You're welcome.
By the way, this site offers Hindi transliterations. You can all कीप आईटी तो yourselves now.. This is a bit too much excitement for my underslept self.
It would be pretty neat-o if the interested folks in the crowd forwarded their emails before my departure. It may be worth it. Or I may sell them to advertisers for additional funding. You never know.
For now, however, I choose sleep.
I figure I should post an introductory to this all. I choose not to start for myself or anyone in particular, but to remove the daunting 'No Posts' reminder on the page. You're welcome.
By the way, this site offers Hindi transliterations. You can all कीप आईटी तो yourselves now.. This is a bit too much excitement for my underslept self.
It would be pretty neat-o if the interested folks in the crowd forwarded their emails before my departure. It may be worth it. Or I may sell them to advertisers for additional funding. You never know.
For now, however, I choose sleep.
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