May 8/9

International airports are a great place to go people watching. Everything about traveling abroad to a new place can turn into an experience. The opportunity for miscommunication arises at some of the most unforeseen times. As I checked in airport attendant, whom I’m sure was trained to never break a smile, was being harangued by a man who could not believe she could smile while he was distressed. To him, it was the rudest gesture possible, and it seemed that she was taking pleasure in his upset, prompting him to demand why she was laughing at him. Honestly, his over the top attitude was amusing enough to get a giggle or two. I feel bad for customer service though. The mixture of people in an airport is fun to watch, from the relaxed veteran traveler to the flustered newcomers that can appear frantic even with hours till their flight leaving. Having taken the only train from Lafayette to Chicago allowed me a healthy 9-hour wait at the airport for my 7:10 flight to Delhi. This time was well used reading the book my Histology TA Abeje suggested I read, The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner. I figured I had to at least read the chapter on India before leaving, and so I did. I also managed to read some of the beginning, write some thoughts down, take a nap, eat $10 of airport food (a burrito and soda) which inspired me to dream of the amazing amount of Curry and other good food I would be enjoying in the months to come. I also wandered the airport till I found a watch and some earphones I could buy that were as close to reasonable I could manage at O’Hare. I was impressed my mp3 player made it though my entire waiting for my plane. This unfortunately meant it did not make it past this. I looked around at some of the characters nearby. I like people, especially uninhibited ones. I think that’s why I found some of the children in the airport and their parents so fun to watch. One child and his mother I were inspiring in their joint cuteness. This kid was still a crawler and I think his head was still beating out his body for weight. His eyes were some of the deepest azure blue I have yet to see. There is something about parents interacting with their children in fun ways that always lightens my heart. I was walking behind a family to my terminal, and the daughter of the bunch would, every few steps, do a little shimmy skip dance thing. Just once her mother mirrored her as if they practiced for hours together and the girl’s whole body language lit up as if she just found out she had a superpower. I think these moments are fun and important. As the boarding time approaches, the number of women in Sarees increases. I wonder though if this is an older tradition as most of the women donning this attire seem to have a few years on them. For the amount of skin they have the opportunity to show, I think the saree is far more tasteful and elegant than much of the revealing clothing worn by people I wish wouldn’t in America. The saree seems to do nothing but improve one’s appearance, and is often tastefully accompanied by an ornate matching shawl. There is also a large crowd of westernized attire that is generally business or college casual. The bright colors of the more traditional clothes help them brighten the normal airport crowd. The only thing that stands out perhaps more is a man with a kiwi-sized growth on the top of his head, as he waits with his wife, or so I will call her. His accessory is the only reason for him to stand out, but it is something I have not seen before. I notice the look on the faces of the crowd is not a happy one. The majority of faces appear to be downright irritated, as if they are just unimpressed with what life is giving them at present, and are waiting for it to get interesting for them. I don’t know if that is the case, but the book I just read says that India is full of contradictions, so maybe I just don’t know how to read the Indian countenance yet. Besides, I don’t think many people are happy to be getting on an 18 hour plane ride.
On the plane, I was seated next to Harish Arora. He’s a banker for a credit card company in Dallas Texas going for his annual visit to see family in Delhi. He was quite friendly and even offered a phone number in case I didn’t make it in Delhi or had some difficulty. This was my first taste of Indian hospitality, and worrying. The flight was tough on my body and mind between the odd hours to be served food, and the odd alternations of light and dark when the cabin crew seemed to think night and day should be. This did not match my rhythm, and the sleep I got on the plane did not make my night stay at hotel Lohmod in Delhi that pleasant. Partly, this was also due to a nervous impulse that ran through me since my arrival. I was suddenly alone in a country with hit or miss English speakers, and everyone looked irritated and unimpressed which did not seem like a good combination if I was in trouble. I had attempted to prepare myself for my first real experience as a minority, but there is little you can do till you are actually one. First of all I was nervous being in a new city, period. This was then amplified by the problem that I did not know if I would be able to find people speaking English. I am sure part of it even had to do with being surrounded by such unrecognizable culture and people. Luckily I had another gut feeling, aside from the worry, was a feeling like I was in a friendly place. The only familiar faces I saw were the moth-flies in the sink at the hotel that flew around some of the apartments’ sinks in Connecticut. I had a good feeling that I would find friendly faces in Bangalore the next day too, which gave me a goal. After a thorough skewering from the government’s tourist booth that helped me find an overpriced hotel and cab, a new day was ready to begin.
While in and around the hotel, I tried some tea (and did not die even though it was not burning hot); discovered Indian music videos (which are all kinds of sexy and make me want to try a club while I’m here); found that alcohol is not as common a commodity here as America, but drunk people can be viewed in a humorous light; cab rides are not necessarily as scary as I was warned; and while there is noise, what I noticed first is the air, which is thick, heavy, and (at least here) polluted. I would later find that some of these things I ‘learned’ were pure coincidence. I also found a channel on TV that had “A flying monkey man in a red loin cloth and gold bangles [actually a Hindu God] with music in the background and what appears to be a stock exchange crawler on the bottom of the screen.” The outside of the hotel window is a picture out of any national geographic page. Piles of trash and rubble are around buildings with alleyways between them made of dirt, stray dogs, and people with some appearing crippled. With the two distinct sides of the hotel so different, I feel India might need a pretty close look to help understand it.