Stepping outside of one's comfort zone to explore a new part of the world immediately brings about a rather unique, multi-faceted emotional response. By definition, there is the uncomfortability. It's never easy to prepare yourself for the immense poverty, the pungent smells, or even the local cuisine. They are there right in front of you, and there is no escaping. Second, there is the gratitude; the deep-rooted acknowledgement that no matter how bad things are in one's own life, there are opportunities that we have in the West, which are often taken for granted and neglected.
I'm writing this from 38,000 ft above the Black Sea after spending an unforgettable 10 days in India. It was a week and a half of culture, exploration, laughs, reunion, and connection that were born out of uncomfortability and gratitude on many different levels.
I'd met the groom whilst exploring a different place in a very different time. Satya and I were getting off the same ferry on the Greek Island of Ios. Back in my extroverted days, it was easy for me to approach just about anyone and make a new friend. The courage usually came from reminding myself that even if I made a complete fool of myself, I'd never see the person again anyway. Well, ironically, that was almost 10 years ago, and Satya has been one of my closest friends ever since.
When Robin and I first heard that he was getting married, and was kind enough to invite us, we were filled with the anticipation of travelling together to explore such a unique country and culture. India had been top of her travel priorities for much of her life, and she now had an excellent excuse to tick it off her list. Unfortunately for her, the joyous news of our expected new arrival meant that I was going it alone. It also meant that the pressure was on for me to enjoy as much as I could on her behalf.
I flew into Chennai on a dusty and humid Monday morning. Like most air travel, the trip was rather unremarkable and was punctuated by a 6 hour layover in Mumbai, beginning at midnight. The free internet kiosks and cheap copy of the Economist kept me entertained for most of that time. The first real cultural experience came immediately after arrival, as I took the local suburban train from the airport to my hotel in Egmore. The trip cost 6 Rupees, which is about 8 pence. They say that you get what you pay for, but in this case, I'd say I got quite a bargain. It wasn't so much the 18 km, but the window into daily Indian life that really moved me. The car itself felt like a giant steel cage. There were no lights, aside from the sun, most people either sat on the wooden slats along the wall, or leaning out the open doors. As I entered from one end, the cotton candy vendor entered from the other side, and hanged his wares from the ceiling, providing a hint of colour in the otherwise drab car.
It was about 10 minutes into the journey before the begging began. There was the 4' 6” elderly lady with the gnarled fingers, and the 6-8 year-old girl all by herself, but the one that really stuck out for me was the mid- to late-thirties blind man. His haunting white eyes staring out into nothingness as he chanted his 3-syllable pleading mantra over and over whilst slowly jingling the coins in his hand. That image will stay with me forever.
I met up with my old travel companion, Ben, at about 10:30am in our hotel room. I met Ben 3 months prior to meeting Satya in a hostel in Dublin. A friendly, welcoming comment as he entered the hostel room, followed by an impromptu week of exploring Ireland and Scotland together, also resulted in one of my closest friendships. I had the opportunity to introduce my two American friends at my own wedding 4.5 years ago. I had a feeling that they would get along well, and was now grateful that I had someone with whom to partner up, since Robin couldn't be here.
Ben had arrived from Philadephia the day prior. By the time I got there, he had already explored much of Chennai, and had befriended an auto-Rickshaw driver named “Johnny”, who gave him a personal tour. I was fine with that, because after my 20-hour journey, I was ready to have a relaxing day of doing very little. So instead, we just walked around. It was immediate sensory overload. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the heat and humidity. It was as if every sense was being bombarded from all angles, and there was little one could do to escape. The sights I'll leave to the pictures. The sounds were mostly car honking, which we quickly learned was an intricate part of driving in India. One honks to change lanes, one honks to overtake, one honks to make one's presence known. Mostly, though, one honks merely for the joy of honking. The smells primarily indicated your proximity to the river; growing ever more pungent and climaxing in the centre of a bridge. The river itself was little more than a flowing toilet, and the banks were lined with excrement and God-knows what else. Needless to say, we went through great effort to avoid tap water.
After a quick stop to exchange money, Ben and I found a quaint little restaurant for lunch. I won't go into details about each of the meals, but suffice to say we had a feeling that we would eat rather well in India. The food was nowhere nearly as spicy as I was expecting. The sauces and gravys were rich in colour and flavour, and the waiter was patient with our requests, even if we were only ordering starters and side-orders.
We headed back to the hotel for a well-deserved nap. Before falling asleep, though, I responded to an e-mail from Josh, saying that he arrived safely in Chennai wanted to meet up if we had any plans. Josh was an old college friend of Satya. We had e-mailed a couple of times before leaving, as Satya tried to connect those who were visiting the same cities prior to our scheduled meet up in Vijayawada on Wednesday. I told Josh that Ben and I had just passed by a nice looking seafood restaurant and were planning to leave the hotel at 6:30 if he'd like to join us. I put the computer down and closed my eyes for what seemed only a few minutes. The next thing I remember was the knock on the door, and we finally got to meet Josh in person.
Josh was as much of a nomadic traveller as Ben and I, perhaps even more so. He didn't have a hotel booked for his 2 nights in Chennai, and was more interested in exploring his options once he arrived. So the three of us left the Vestin Park hotel, which only offered double rooms, to find something decent for him on our way to the restaurant. After a couple of stops, we stumbled across the King's Hotel, which seemed to have it all: cheaper rates, wireless internet (rather than a long cable). We were so enthralled that Ben and I decided to leave our hotel in the morning join Josh to save a few hundred Rupees. We then promptly went back to the Vestin Park, because our Fisherman Fare wasn't going to open for another hour, and had a great evening on the rooftop patio restaurant. To save him the walk at the end of the night, we offered to put Josh up in a cot in our room. He graciously accepted.
The next morning, the three of us got up nice and early and walked down the road to the King's Hotel. Let's just say that the Vestin Park became a symbol for appreciating what you have while you have it. When we arrived at the King's, we were told that the cheaper room was not available, which was not what we heard 12 hours prior, so the great deal was immediately reduced. Second, the wireless internet wasn't free; more reduction. Lastly, the window had been left open in our room, which meant more bugs. Josh ended up crashing with us again, so overall we saved about 300 Rupees (£4) each. We spoke longingly for the Vestin Park for the next few days.
Overall, none of us cared much for Chennai. It was smelly and chaotic, and there was little to see. Even the young law student next to whom I sat on my flight to Mumbai said that Chennai would not be his first choice for an introduction to India. So, we decided to spend the day outside the city. The three of us hired a car and headed south to Mahabalipurum. About 50 kms south, Mahabalipurum is an isolated coastal town with two historic landmarks. The first was the 5 Rathas, where we hired a local to give us a brief tour of the monument. Five small temples carved out of a single stone, each dedicated to a different Hindu god and expressing elements of Indian, Chinese, and Roman architecture. We were given a crash course in basic Hindu beliefs and traditions. The second monument was the Shore Temple, located a couple kms away. Made in a similar tradition as the 5 Rathas, but along the sandy shore, the Temple is no longer used for ceremony, and is only there to be stared at.
Our driver was hired for either 100 kms or 10 hours, whichever was higher, so we figured we might as well take our time getting back to the city. We serendipitously found the Golden Sun resort on the way back, where the three of us sat back with a couple of beers, a little lunch, and watched the day go by next to the empty beach. By the time we got back to Chennai, Ben recommended that we swing by the two temples that he had visited the day before with his tour guide, "Johnny". The first was a temple dedicated to the teachings of Sri Ramakrishn Paramahamsa, a 19th Century Indian mystic, that was built by the man who introduced Yoga to the West, Swami Vivekananda. The second was a 1400 year old Hindu temple, where I involuntarily had my own private tour guide (for a fee negotiated at the end of the tour).
After a great day of touring, and a rather miserable night longing for the Vestin Park Hotel, we were grateful to leave Chennai and head up to Vijayawada for the wedding. Josh was originally planning on spending another 8 hours in Chennai, but it didn't take long for him to change his mind and join us instead. Even buying a new ticket at only £6 was a bargin if it meant leaving Chennai.
Our Indian Railway experience was nothing like what I would have imagined. Now, granted, we didn't weren't exactly in steerage class, but we weren't in first either. The car was airconditioned, the sections were roomy, and there was the familiar sound of the Chai Wallah and other vendors selling food and drink. The three of us sat back and enjoyed the ride. We ordered chai, samosas, dahl and rice from the different vendors, and watched the world go by for about 6 hours. Indian Railways is one of the world's largest employers, with 1.4 million employees; the journey was well organised and went off without a problem. Before we knew it, we crossed over the great Krishna River and arrived in Vijayawada, ready for the wedding festivities.
The three of us checked into our hotel, and Ben and I settled into our room. Now, I don't normally feel compelled to take a picture of a hotel room, but based on our previous night in the King's Hotel, this one was a palace. Within a couple of hours, we were on the roof top of the hotel meeting the other guests, most of whom were
either Indian or American. Aside from Ben and Josh, the only other familiar face was Rod, another college friend of Satya's, whom I had met during a couple of Satya's visits when I was living in Massachusetts in 2002. Until that night I hadn't ever met the bride, which was somewhat fitting, since Satya didn't meet Robin until our wedding day either. The evening was filled with dance, stories, laughter, and (unofficially and away from the crowd) the odd toast to the happy couple.
That night was when it hit me ... but I'll continue that for the next entry.
Back home in England we soon began decorating and my pregnancy has inspired me domestically, so I borrowed a friend's sewing machine and sewed some stockings. I also started making cute recycled card ornaments, strung some cranberries, decorated the flat with candles and evergreen boughs, and last weekend we erected and decorated our Norweigian spruce tree.
We spent an afternoon cooking our first turkey with all the fixings and shared it with our good friends Adam and Caroline who brought the most amazingly decadent chocolate dessert. They got a kick out of my family 'Whatsit?' tradition, and cleverly claimed the prize.
