16 May 2005
Day 1:
Wow… I’m here. It’s so hard to believe. I don’t think it’s really going to sink in until tomorrow. The trip had a rough start (for me at least) due to arriving on time – at the wrong airport… but I caught a cab and made the flight – just barely. Everything else has so far gone smoothly. The group is amazing. What an awesome dynamic. We are all SO enthusiastic about being here!
I’m worried about how I’m going to hold up in the heat… the guys can go shirtless but the girls are going to be baking in our “discreet” clothing. Temperatures in India today reached 111 degrees F!! It was 95 degrees F tonight at 10:30PM when we arrived. It’s going to take a lot of adjustment to tolerate the temps. (And a crapload of water!)
I didn’t realize you drive on the left side of the road here! And those taxi drivers… wow… crazy insane! They don’t seem to pay much notice to speed limits, signs, road lines… or anything/one else! And boy do they love their horns! There are also these crazy three-wheeled contraptions, which I would love to catch a ride in!
The smell here is very distinct. I kinda like it. I’m REALLY looking forward to getting some Indian clothes tomorrow and checking out Delhi! Tonight I walked around the hotel with the boys a little bit and we played around on the slackline (a nylon line tied between two trees, which we attempt to walk across). Even the security guard took a turn! So far we’ve seen bats, a cat, and a rat (hahaha). I want to see more!
Well, it’s nearly 3AM now and we have breakfast tomorrow at 8AM. Should have gone to bed hours ago! Nameste!
17 May 2005
Day 2:
I’m laying here in bed exhausted but invigorated. My first full day in India has been more than I could have hoped. What an amazing place this is! I did not see as much poverty as I imagined but the poverty is unmistakable and heart-breaking to say the least. It doesn’t help to be charitable. They only ask for more and, even those who don’t, attract attention of only more and more needy people. Anyone who does not feel sorrow for their suffering is blind and cold-hearted.
Smells so thick they coat the tongue, cling to the nostrils. Sandalwood, incense, spice, urine, feces… A hundred different odors choke the thick hot air. My ears bombarded by the clamor of horns, the sonorous chatter of merchants and beggars… pleading, persuading in words beautiful yet unintelligible to my unaccustomed ear. These amazing emaciated people, so think their bones threaten to break the skin. Still ready and willing to return my awed smile in full. I offer them my soul and they return it invigorated with their humble wisdom, their blatant curiosity. Partaking with them in seemingly mild dialogue, completely unaware how their open conversation seeps into my essence, changing forever the person I was, am, and will become. What gives these dark-haired people the strength, the courage, to persevere, survive, amidst such wide-spread poverty and still maintain the ability to commune with this creature so unfamiliar with their suffering?
Sitting on the cool metal of a Lodi Park bench apart from the dozens of others gathered around – (all watching with obvious amusement as we fair-skinned Americans make spectacles of ourselves balancing clumsily on a line strung between two trees) – he tells me of his life and asks about mine. Chances taken, sacrifices made. “You are no stranger to me,” he says. He does not judge me as an American but as a human, partner in pain and pleasure. “You are as a sister to me.” I can only respond with a smile as I take his hand and thank him.
posted by Heather | 3:58 AM
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