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.