Three Months Later...

As I write what I believe will be the ultimate blog post of this trip, I have an overwhelming sense of de ja vous and a feeling of having come full circle. This evening, as I flew into Delhi from Chennai, I was transported back 3 months ago to when I first arrived here in India, staring out the window at the lights of Delhi asking what I had just gotten myself into. The mixed feelings of excitement, fear, and anxiety rushed back to me tonight as I looked out and saw the lights of Delhi, just as I saw them that night. I had absolutely no idea what to expect when I came to India; I had images of women in vibrant saris in busy markets, dirty streets packed with slums, and color, exploding color everwhere.

Three months ago, I knew only what I had seen in magazines, what I'd read about in preparation and what people told me. I knew that I'd be on a program with five other people but I didn't know all of their names. I knew where I'd be living but I had no idea what it actually looked like or what the people would be like. Most of all, I was an absolute stranger to India, a pilgrim to a place that called to my spirit, but of which I knew nothing.

Today, three months later, sitting in the same room I sat in the first night, it's incredible to look back on everything that's happened. Only four of the eight of us are here on this absolute final night; Laura had to go home early, Stephen went home from Kathmandu, Rebecca left a few days ago and Rajiv is in Putna taking care of his father. The house is almost eery with the memories of those first, confused and overwhelmed days. Days when we all barely knew each other, days when India was a complete stranger, and when every corner seemed to have a shadow lurking behind it. Today, my bags are, somewhat incredibly really, lighter than they were last time I was here, and in many ways, my heart is the exact opposite.

When I get on the plane home tomorrow, I know that I'll be leaving a large part of my heart here. My heart is with the kids in Gangtok, who, I still miss desperately every day. My heart is in the mountains of Bhoutan, the bustling city of Kathmandu, the energy of Mumbai. My heart is with the amazing people that I've met on this trip and the incredible opportunities that I've had here.

In many ways, I think I must have been Indian in a past life, or that I have an Indian soul. My soul feels at home here, and that gives me the strength to overcome the challenges to my Western upbringing that I've encountered here; the poverty, the never ending sickness in some form, the language barriers, the fact that I get ripped off at least once a day because of the color of my skin. But my proclivity to give unconditionally, to try and offer everything I have to those around me and the spiritualism I've always embraced match much of what I see in the people here.

Three months ago, I came laden with questions, searching for answers. I wanted to know so much about the future that I was bursting with questions. What will the cause that I champion in the future be? Do I lean towards International Relations or Business as a major? Do I want to live abroad? Do I want to spend my life doing the on the ground work of an NGO or non-profit or do I want to be behind the scenes?

Three months later, I'm as close to an answer as I think life will ever let me get. I have, perhaps, the most important answer which is that I don't need to have an answer for all of these questions. I don't need to know what will happen in a month and I definitely don't need to know what will happen in four years. Everything can change in a day, a week, a moment. I mentioned in a blog post awhile ago that one thing I've learned about myself on this trip is that I have a tendency to live in the future, and that I have a problem focusing on the present. That still stands true, and I haven't fixed it, but I've made a lot of peace with it. I know that I'm not perfect, and I never will be, but I can strive every day for a better version of myself. And that sweet acceptance is really all that's necessary.

In some ways I'm afraid to go home; I'm afraid of what others may perceive has changed about me, I'm afraid that I will be shocked by things I once found so normal, but mostly, I'm afraid that I'll let myself revert back to my 'old ways'. In the past three months, I've found an acceptance with imperfection, an ability to control myself from planning too far ahead in the future, and most importantly, a much deeper understanding of myself than I had when my plane first touched down here.

I came filled with questions, filled with a need to regain the passion that I felt I'd lost over the past few years, controlled by a fear of getting stuck on the "hampster wheel" and never being able to break free. Now, I've found answers for many of my questions, I feel passionate and excited about life and the future, and I know that I am in control of my own life. I think that in our culture, we lose this love for our life somewhere along the way with expectations and pressure. We forget, or maybe never learn, that we truly have complete control of our lives and that we can do whatever we want with it. Although I won't be doing this, I know now that I could not go to college if I wanted, because it is truly a choice. And it's liberating to know that I am choosing to go to college because I'm excited and passionate about the opportunity to learn, and to interact with professors and peers, not because I'm blindly sure that is the next step I am supposed to take. And there is freedom in that knowledge that I'm not waiting for next year, or just a few more years until I really enjoy myself. I know that I can truly enjoy myself today and every day by making decisions about what I want to do in life, not what society tells me I have to do to be sucessful.

And perhaps that, in and of itself, is sucess. Making decisions about your life without an eye towards the step tahat will follow, but instead, living in the happiness of the moment and not waiting for tomorrow, next week or next year.

India has taught me more lessons than I think I'll ever truly realize. I've learned practical travelling lessons and I've learned relationship lessons. I've learned lessons about life and love and the ties that bind us all together. I've learned that there is never one right answer to a problem, and that frequently, what I think is right, coming from my frame of referene, might not be right for anyone but me. I've learned that Indian trains smell like pee. I've learned that I can wear the same clothes for a very, very long time. I've learned that I can't fix everything, but I can make small changes. I've learned that just because someone thinks differently from me, doesn't mean they're wrong.

I have seen more of India than I imagined when I came; I've been to the northeast, up in the Himalayas and the hill regions. I've been in the South, seeing both the west and east coast of the county. India is not a country to be understood. I could spend every day here until I die and I still would be surprised every single day. India is not perfect, just like nowhere in the world is perfect, but what they do better than anyone else I think is accept that imperfection. Poverty isn't swept under the carpet here, it's blaring and in your face. Unfortunately, sexism is rampant and manifests itself all over. But India, and it's people, aren't ashamed of these blemishes and instead, welcome you to see them and examine.

I apologize for the rantiness of this post, as I am thorouhly exhausted and I think it's time for bed. I suppose all that is left to say is thank you to everyone that's been reading and following this blog, especially to you who have given me feedback as I really appreciate that. I may launch a new blog for Spain, but I'm currently somewhat undecided, so I'll let you know :) Thank you for being a part of my journey.

And most importantly, thank you to my parents who made it possible for me to do this. They believed in me and my need for this time and I truly will never be able to thank them enough as this has altered my life and my future more than I think anyone will ever truly know. They stood behind me and supported me in my decision to break off and come to South India, and my mom spent tireless hours slaving away organizing the small details of our trip since I had minimal time. So, although saying thank you alone is never enough, I'll try anyways and say thank you for your support and your love.

Much love, as always,

Sara

Tick Tock, Tick Tock.

written Nov 30, posted Dec 3

Our departure for Chennai was quite the sight and likely could have made for an incredible horror movie. We sat at the platform, three over packed Americans among a sea of Indians with considerably less baggage, watching what we assumed was heat thunder lighting up the night sky. We had already eaten dinner in an overpacked restaurant, the air heavy with grease and sweat, and endured another round of photography. Apparently, we are quite the fascination, and we've decided to start charging Rs. 10 per photo shoot next time...it's actually ridiculous. Anyways, so we're sitting on top of our huge bags on the platform, sweating in the thick, hot air, when a cool breeze with hints of water fell upon us. Before we realized what was going on, it was pouring rain, and I mean really pouring, the thunder was lighting the sky up purple  and we were desperately trying to avoid the rain from soaking our bags. And then the roof starting leaking.

Leaking probably isn't the right word. Leaking implies small divlets of water flowing from the ceiling, imaginably something you could catch in a bucket. It was as if the roof was funneling down towards the middle; an absolute gushing river of water was pouring down and we were desperately trying to avoid the direction of the water. So now, there are three over packed Americans, desperately trying to lug their bags around the small area covered by a shabby roof, providing entertainment for those around us. And then the lights started to flicker. And that was when, with our train 30 minutes late, and utterly soaked in water, it began to seem like the beginning (or possibly the end) of a horror movie.

Finally, we boarded the train, where we were met with rivers of dirty water in the corridors and lugged our very wet bags into our cabin. And all is (hopefully) well from there, as that is where we are at now. The train is ticking along and thunder frequently lights up the sky outside. And I am being diligent and updating anyone reading this about my adventures! Yay!

So, last I left off, we were on the train to Kerala. We arrived safely and were picked up by a very happy driver who took us to the houseboat. The houseboat was lovely and relaxing, the scenery absolutely beautiful and after no sleep the night before on the train, I napped most of the afternoon. For anyone considering coming to Kerala, I would say that while the houseboat is beautiful, it's unnecessary as you literally do nothing but sit there all day long. And after awhile, trees are trees and it all begins to look the same.

The next morning, Satheesh (our new driver) picked us up and drove us to Thekkady, where we were doing a homestay for the next two nights. We had, foolishly, anticpated a short drive...maybe an hour tops. Instead, our drive took seven hours. If I were writing a book, or if there was a theme to my trip or my blog, it would be that nothing is ever as you expect it to be. I expected to be trekking Everest right now, and instead I'm on a train heading to Chennai. I expected to be coming home December 26th, and instead I'll be home in six days (as of writing this, which I'm doing on the evening of Nov 30). But I guess the simple lesson that life is trying to teach me is to never have expectations, or to expect that your plans will change and that you'll simply have to adjust. Which I'm getting very good at :)

So anyways, the drive that was supposed to take 4-5 hours, took us seven hours. Why? Because essentially half of the state of Kerala (prounounced Care-uh-la) is on strike. Why? Because of a dam. Exlplain more? The British built a dam here way back when and the dam is starting to crack and needs to be rebuilt/fixed. And the unfortunate universal trait of governments failing to heed warnings and fix things early on (think the levy in New Orleans) is a scary foreshadowing to a possible tragedy in Kerala. Because IF the dam breaks, 40 lahk (a lahk is 100,000, so 40 lahk is 4 million) people are in danger. Our driver estimated for us that the total population of Kerala is around 100 million people (I haven't had time to check out this statistic for myself). So for the past three days, the people of Kerala have been striking, begging their government to fix the dam before people die. And the scary part is, it could happen any day. The dam already has cracks and is leaking and it is truly just a matter of time before something happens.

So, to help break up some of the monotonous sitting (frequently strikers wouldn't let anyone drive...just to create havok I believe), we diverted from our route and went and did an elephant ride! Quite the ultimate tourist activity to be sure. It's a crazy experience to realize that you're on top of an elephant, which is quite possibly the slowest moving animal. Perhaps the most interesting part of the ride was the end, when we were exposed yet again to the lack of Indian manners when the man who led the elephant around said 'Did you have a nice time? Please tip'. I'm unsure as to whether its an effect of English being their second language, but Indians can be VERY direct. For example, when we were in Gangtok, Rajiv bought a birthday cake for one of the girls. After they brought down some other cake for us for dessert, he commented to her that he "hadn't had any of the cake [he] gave her and would like to try some of it". When he said this, we were all somewhat aghast as in the US, you would never ask to have some of a cake you gave someone else. But here it is perfectly okay. The converse of that is that you frequently have to ask multiple times if its okay to join someone for a meal or you should always bring gifts to dinner as a thank you for their generosity. Oh, the confusion of  new culture.

Anyways, so we eventually got to Mickey's. Which for the record, was not a homestay. To me, a homestay means that you interact with the family, get to know their life and what daily life for an Indian family is like. We were in a seperate room with our own bathroom very far away from the family, we had one meal with them which was supposed to be included and we later found out definitely wasn't included. So, fail.  

The first day, Claudia and I went to get Ayurvedic massages. Ew. They literally must have used at least 2.5 cups of oil on our bodies (respectively, not together). It was absolutely disgusting. I've never felt so oily. Not to mention that I smelled like Indian food for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, as a result of the strike, pretty much everything was closed until 6, so we just walked around for awhile and then went back to the hotel. That night we went to a Kerala Kalari (martial arts) show followed by a show of local theater (which I can't remember the name of). The martial arts show was pretty cool. And, no fricken surprise, Alex was chosen as a volunteer from the audience to participate in the show. Seriously, how do these things happen to him?! The theather was really cool cause they have super intricate costumes and make up. Honestly, the only way to really depict it is going to be through pictures, so I'll have pictures up ASAP on Facebook! By the way, I promise that my Picasa will be totally updated, but it might have to wait til I get home to be honest :/ Sorry! I need time and true computer time to get that all done.

After the show we went out to dinner where we met a super nice Indian couple on their honeymoon. They were quick to tell us that their marriage was an arranged marriage but they seemed super happy. I mentioned in a blog awhile back that I thought it was interesting how open Indians here are to arranged marriage and that it's not necessarily seen as negative here or "constraining" to the women which is how we see it. To be honest, I think many people find it liberating; if you're not having a good time finding someone on your own (and I think many people can agree to that), then your parents set you up with someone who matches your personality. It's really not all bad. There's not the expectation that your marriage will always be on love and that you'll always love each other as much as you do the day you get married. And in modern India, women have a say in the situation and can say that they don't want to marry certain candidates. Food for thought.

This morning, Claudia and I went to a so-so yoga class with an incredibly cocky but not very good teacher. Man, do I miss yoga. Despite being in India, the home of yoga, we haven't really done much and we haven't been able to find good teachers or good timing for it. After that, we packed up and left and went to a spice garden which was really interesting, especially when they explained the Ayurvedic uses for each plant as well as eating uses. After we started our journey to the train station (4 hours) and here we are! So that catches up on everything.

As we enter the final week of our trip, I find myself constantly pulled in two directions, practically ripped in half by the contrast in my desires. Half of me wants to fight leaving, wants to dig my heels into the rich Indian earth and refuse to leave this country that I'm in love with, despite the fact that I've truly barely gotten to know it (much like a lovesick girl after a first, or maybe second date). I want to wander the country until I know the stereotypes, until I've seen the desert, the mountains, the plains, the village life, the city life. I want it all. This is an unfortunate flaw of mine, that I want to know and experience it all. As a child, I couldn't understand why it was impossible to create a robot that knew everything. Now, I understand it logically, but I still want to know it all. I want to know every language, I want to know how people live their lives and I want to be a part of it.

And the other part of me is counting down days until I'm in beautiful San Diego again. Counting down the days until I see my family, have lunch with my grandma, catch up with my friends and those important to me. Counting down days until I have clean clothes (seriously, my clothes actually reek right now), til I can gorge myself on an enormous salad made with the salad dressing my family is famous for. Counting down the days until I'm watching 'How I Met Your Mother' with my brother instead of on my tablet.

And so begins the epic battle within. The truth is that I'll be glad to be home, but I'll miss India incredibly I think. I won't be one of those people who says they 'left their true self in ____' because the truth is that my true self is with me wherever I go. But just as I did with Vietnam or London or France, I'll be leaving a tiny piece of my heart here. And that's the way it should be. Eventually, little pieces of my heart will be littered accross the world, stretched across continents and connecting me to people all over the world.

Everytime I've left somewhere on this trip, I've felt this overwhelming feeling that I've left something behind or forgotten to pack something. It's a feeling I always have whenever I leave someplace. And I have finally realized what it is; I'm leaving behind a piece of myself and my story. When I left Gangtok, the feeling was so overwhelming, I almost asked the driver to turn around so I could check again. But it was because I was leaving the kids, who I still miss every single day. When we left Mumbai, I had to check the room three times to convince myself that I had everything; then I realized I was leaving behind the amazing times with the Chens, a city I'd fallen in 'like' with very quickly, and the Babla family who had been so generous to us.

And so begins the countdown. The question is, and will remain, am I counting the days that I have left until I go or the precious few I have left before I have to leave? And there's really no answer for that because the truth is that it's both. I hope very desperately that this won't be my last rendezvous with India and that this love affair, which I can't say I wasn't anticipating, will continue.

Love always,

Sara

Post Script: Writing this a few days later to add on. We are safely in Chennai and all is well here. We have met up with the incredible parents of a good friend of ours, Heema. Her parents have been incredibly kind and generous and absolutely fantastic to us and Chennai has been a great city so far! There will be another post to come before I leave, we've just had very minimal internet access recently. Much love.

and a post- post script from Mom, who is posting this for Sara.....we can't wait for her return home!! We are also tremendously grateful beyond words for all the kindnessess she is being shown, and has been shown, by our friends and their friends and families in India. What an amazing experience she has had!!