Saturday, July 14, 2012

Reflections on a journey: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

When you spend two months in India, people expect you to come back with something. Not like a scarf or a tan,  but something equally tangible. So, what am I bringing back? Besides several scarves, some sparkly bangles, and a new found appreciation for probiotics and Imodium? Lots of things. Most of them I'll keep to myself, but I have been composing a list in my head for the past few days. Actually, it's two lists - Things I Will Not Miss About India and Things I Will Miss About India- but like most things having to do with India, the opposites intersect and edges blur and intertwine in such a way that they are sometimes indistinguishable. 


Appropriately, a mashup ensued - please see below. In the coming days, I'll be going back and adding photos to the blogs I previously posted (sorry, the Internet situation in India goes snugly in the "WON'T MISS" category; posting photos while there was a three-step process that was usually hampered by slow or non-existent WiFi connections). Also, one of the immediately tangible items from my trip is my shiny new blog, The Skeptical Yogi. It can be found here: http://theskepticalyogi.wordpress.com/. It will be primarily focused on healthy living topics and yoga. I'll keep this site for personal use, but I'll be updating regularly over there.


Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.



1) I will not/will miss the driving. My driver, BK, told on the first day of my Rajasthan road trip that Indian drivers require only three things: Good brakes, good horn, and good luck. I've been to some countries where traffic "laws" have been treated more as "suggestions", but never anywhere like India. In India, there aren't even any discernible suggestions. It's total mayhem all the time. It's great and it's terrible. It's loud and noisy and stinky, but teeming with life and more representative of real life in India than any museum diorama could ever hope to be.


2) I will not/will miss the cows. In India, cows are everywhere. It's not unusual to see traffic stopped because some cows decided to take a midday snooze in the middle of the road. They have free reign of the place (meaning, the whole country), and as such, walking anywhere should never be a mindless activity. The smell of cow dung permeates the air, sometimes bringing a whiff of freshness and life, other times a malodorous tiding of a ruined shoe, moments too late.


3) I will not/will miss the complete lack of privacy in India. I will miss it because it really made me appreciate American culture, a lot, on a daily basis. We may be considered prudes in the eyes of more liberal countries, but in the U.S., we take our personal space and privacy seriously. I didn't realize how much I valued that until it vanished. In India, there are very few boundaries. Few questions are off limits, and "personal space" isn't part of the national vocabulary. In a country where it's not uncommon to see a dog and a person sharing the same strip of grass to do their morning business, such notions are laughable. 


4) I will not/will miss the food. Lots of my fellow students complained about the food we had during our month of training. I thought it was great. I happily ate (most) everything we were served, and occasionally paid for it. I will miss the wonderful flavors and aromas of the food. I am looking forward, however, to some variety! It won't be long before I try my hand at cooking some of the meals we were served regularly.


I mostly won't miss the hygiene situation in general. Both the bathrooms and the cultural hygiene mores I am happy to leave behind. The morning routine is one I especially won't miss. The first time I heard it, I had just settled down to a delicious-looking breakfast at my hotel in Jaisalmer - a fresh mango lassi, paradtha and pickles, and piping hot Marsala chai. I was starving and began to dig in, when I couldn't help but notice a ghastly sound coming from a nearby outdoor bathroom. It sounded like someone was getting horribly ill. Retching and hacking sounds emanated from the poor fellow inside. I felt bad for him, and the barf concerto in B flat put me off my breakfast completely. 


It wasn't until that guy skipped out of the bathroom looking fresh as a daisy, and the next guy stepped in and began a new series of horrible retching sounds, that I realized this was just part of the daily routine. It doesn't have a name that I know of, but it's a terrible-sounding sort of throat clearing process that most Indian men do every morning after brushing their teeth. I can happily live the rest of my days without hearing that sound again. 


The last thing that bears mentioning is treatment of women. Even though living it gave me a new appreciation the why, I still found myself chafing daily at the assumptions that were made about me again and again, just because of my gender.  I understand that women there are, for the most part, respected and revered. The part I couldn't wrap my head around was the "I'm such a delicate flower" part, where because I'm a woman, I can't walk around by myself, or drive, or wear a tank top because my lady powers might make the menfolk crazy and then who knows what could happen!! The part where I walked into a shop to buy some pencils and have to  run out because the proprietor of the shop  thinks it's okay to put his arm around me and try to kiss me because I'm a delicate flower (also, because I am a hoochie momma Westerner, thanks a lot, Hollywood) - that part?! That part I won't miss. 


As I was getting off the plane in Helsinki, I was flooded with relief that I was back in the "West". Not surprisingly, some Indian dude tried to elbow past me on the jet way, and at first I acquiesced. Then I remembered, I'm not in India anymore! "You're in my house now, bitch!" I thought, as I elbowed him back and strutted off without the slightest bit of remorse.


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