Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Day 1

Day 1, I guess. 3AM
Mumbai, India
July 9, 2008
Would today be Day 1? I don’t think that it is because Day 1 is probably the first whole day I spend in India, not just the remains of one. I think it’s about 3 AM over here. I’m not sure, because my laptop is still on American time.
I should probably start by detailing what an austere experience it was flying to India alone. I flew via AirIndia from O’Hare Airport, then stopped for 30 minutes in Frankfort before boarding the same plane to go to Mumbai, which is where I currently sit as my laptop is drained of its battery. This is actually quite a sticky situation, because while I am now on land and able to recharge, however, a pre-zygotic barrier makes it impossible for my charger to connect to any power outlet in India without proper protection.
But I realize now more than ever that it was not the plane which got me to India as much as it was the work of my passport. My passport went about 3 hours before we had to leave to go to O’Hare. In a fine frenzy, my parents and I tore up our entire house looking for it. And found it where it was usually kept, except underneath the box that Chet’s Wii came in. I am going to sleep, because of my battery.

Day 1 #2 10:20 PM Mumbai, India
Laptop situation figured out. Let me first tell you about my flight, because I said a lot of wishy-washy things in the last update. On the way to O’Hare, Papa gave me his 700th pep talk about how India has no law and how anyone could do anything to me and get away with it, so I must be develop a sense of mistrust. I must also learn to be very cautious and mindful of my possessions. As a result of these many pep talks, I had adopted a fanny pack or “butt pack” with which to strap my belongings around my midsection so that I didn’t have to think too much.
Coming upon the airline check-ins, I saw more Indians that I didn’t know than I think I’ve ever seen in my life, some even being my own age. There were groups of people, very different from one another, some so Indian, I was sure they had lived their whole lives in India, some so Anglicized that I couldn’t tell they were Indian until I saw their interactions with their children. In the long line to get checked in by one of the six tellers, I wondered whether the Indians would know I was Indian or not, whether they would speak in Hindi with me or not.
I had a few different experiences with this. Most people, I think, could tell I had grown up in America because I was by myself and traveling light. My fair skin tone also seems to function as a tip-off. Many people spoke to me in Hindi, to them I usually responded in English. You can usually tell where Indians are from by the language they usually speak in. Those who travel use Hindi and English interchangeably, more when speaking to older Indians, less when speaking to younger Indians. Those who speak more Hindi, speak only in Hindi unless it is necessary to speak otherwise. The American Desis, such as myself, speak in English unless it is absolutely necessary to say some words in Broken Hindi. I naturally add an Indian accent with people I don’t know in order to seem more educated than I am. I was most flattered by an experience where my English linguistics became useful to an old woman on the plane who could not write in English , who handed me her passport and some forms to fill out.
Ah, but I wanted to tell you about the German airport . We had a 30-minute stopover in Frankfurt before we boarded the same plane again. The German airport was designed like a swanky restaurant except not as clean. When I went into the duty-free store, I saw some tobacco products with gigantic labels that said “SMOKING KILLS” in huge text that covered over half of the product. I found the whole thing so funny that I almost took a picture. I couldn’t because one of the store ladies asked if she could help me with anything, so I think she found me suspicious for laughing at cigarettes.
I found myself in momentary confusion as I realized that I didn’t have the currency necessary to buy things, and I didn’t know how many dollars were in a euro. I used my debit card to buy a sandwich and a cappuccino . Note, the cappuccinos there are less sweet, so you have to get sugar by saying Excusez-moi to a couple sexy French guys at the bar counter.
Today being my first real day in India, I think I should tell you what it was like. When I got to Arvind Mamu and Sonu Mami’s apartment, I was so excited. They have a really beautiful house thanks to the talents of my aunt and cousin, Ishita. It is decorated with beautiful paintings and artifacts from all over the world. Arvind Mamu is my mom's brother, in case you were wondering. They have a crazy dog named Ivy, who perpetually tries to make out with me.
My Sonu Mami is so excited to see me and hang out with me. Today she took me to the market, and we went to the Indian McDonalds’ and had a McAloo Tikki, which is a fried potato patty with some kind of chutney in place of a burger. They have paneer wraps and all sorts of amazing things that they should have in America instead of all of the beef which stops Americans from eating creatively.
One thing I must say before I leave. Although India is amazing and very progressive, it lacks in one respect. Traffic is incredibly bad over here. There are no signs, no real speed limits, no regulations made about it. It is survival of the fittest on the roadways. The rickshaws don’t go in straight lines, they instead go where there aren’t other cars or people blocking the way. There is no such thing as following distance over here and the people just walk in the street around the cars wherever. It’s amazing that there are so few accidents, but they come very very close. I shall tell you more later.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

welcome :)
hope u njoy ur stay ... :)