The Human Connection

When I first arrived in India, I was focused on the place I was going. I highlighted monuments I wished to visit and states I was craving to explore. But in leaving India, it isn’t the Taj Mahal which stands out in my mind, or the diversity between the states I meandered through. It is the stories of the people whom I met during my travels that remind me of the precious moments in India where I felt the most inspired. 

My first friend in India, Hari, turned out to be a diamond in the rough. He was kind, and curious and forced me out of my comfort zone when I was jet-lagged and scared shitless. I remember the sound of his voice as he chided me on my menu choices, or the musicality of his laugh when we got our cross-cultural wires crossed. He showed me the gentle side to Indians. Pius, the owner of Adam’s Backpacker’s in Fort Cochin taught me about the authoritative Indian man and his interest in Western values vs. Indian. Through our conversations, I learned just how quickly a conversation can move from innocent to awkward at the first mention of anything sexual. Silvia and Javi, a Spanish couple I explored the tea hills with, showed me that authentic cultural experiences happen, more often than not, far away from major tourist destinations. I caught them in rare moments of public intimacy, being loving and supporting. These moments made me reflect on my own relationship and how it had lost that connection. 

In Varkala, I had an admirer named Libu. He was a young Indian working at a favourite restaurant, his lithe body leaning against the pillars as he gazed out over the Arabian Sea. He was shy, and didn’t speak until my third night when he picked a chicken flower for me and told me he felt very strongly that I was meant for him. He had such depth behind his eyes and if I could go back in time, I would kiss him. He showed me the romantic and poetic side to Indians. Shortly after, I received a ride to the train station by “Diddy”, a hip guesthouse owner who shared my love of kittens and fast driving. He wouldn’t accept payment, he said he just wanted to make sure I got there safe. Generousity and kindness are what I think of when I think of him now. Jaya was a woman who worked with Utthan, the NGO I visited. She had fierce eyes and didn’t smile easily in the company of men. But when I spoke to her out in the field, her eyes came alive with sparkles and she laughed and teased. I believe that Jaya had a hard life, and it’s difficult for her to be unguarded around men. She reminded me that women in India do not have the same rights or freedoms as I do. I felt blessed by every smile she shared.

Xabier, my Spanish travel companion, charmed an entire night bus full of Indians and tourists within minutes. His smile and beautiful nature drew people to him and I felt jealous because I felt that I couldn’t be so free as a woman traveling alone. But as we began traveling together, I began to know freedom. He afforded me the sense of security to be myself in India for the first time, and that was an amazing gift. Ashoke, our guide about all things India, had a dignified demeanor I instantly adored as well as a no-nonsense approach to understanding the history of India. When he spoke, everyone listened without breathing, that’s how poetic his speech was. It was an honour to learn from him. Delgit, a Vancouver-based film producer rocked my understanding of non-resident Indians. He broke every rule and made no apologies for it. He taught me to take advantage of every opportunity and to appreciate the many ways Indian culture is permeating Canada. Caromolina, an English girl I camel trekked through the Thar desert with, echoed my best friend’s quiet spirit and radiated kindness. With her there was an easy friendship, something I know is rare between girls. Daniel, everyone's favourite guy at 3M restaurant, who knew each of us by name and who shared his story and his music one balmy night in Goa. We couldn't have asked for a more beautiful and heart-felt send-off.

My cohort and professors, the people I learned with, laughed with, traded stories with, cried with and most of all loved with. Such a diverse group of people came together and not only got along, but treated one another with such respect. I learned an innumerable amount of things from each of these people. Too many to name here. But I am so thankful to have shared this experience with them. And last but certainly not least, Laura & Ruby, my two beautiful roommates in Ahmedabad and Goa. Two souls I was blessed to experience residency with, and whose friendship I treasure so much. With them I grew and was supported, and learned the value of listening and receiving love. Thank you Team Triple Threat.

Through these people, India became a home for me. Not just an exotic place I had to battle my way through, but a country full of friends and amazing shared experiences. I am incredibly lucky.

Namaste 

Baga Beach sunset. Just amazing

India as Emotional Bootcamp

I’m not embarrassed to say that I cried a lot in India. Nearly every day. Normally, I am not a Crier but rather a Repressor. This tendency to bury strong emotions, good or bad, has led to some problems in my life which I am committed to resolving. And I have India to thank for that. 

India doesn’t give a shit if you’re hesitant or scared. India will force you out of your own head and sweetly demand that you open your heart, scars and all. It isn’t India’s job to be respectful, or fair. India doesn’t owe you anything. I came to India to learn. Yes, with my cohort but also to test myself. And I learned a lot more than I really wanted to know. I learned that I am anxious. I learned that I will always believe in the kindness of strangers, even as they are groping me. I learned that I value the wrong things. Money doesn’t matter. Job titles come and go. Relationships are only beneficial when they are healthy. I learned not to dwell on someone else’s bullshit. I learned that my intuition is crazy awesome. I learned to listen. I learned that I can feel it when someone is being dishonest and I can also feel it when someone has the best intentions. I learned to trust my gut, literally. My stomach is strong; it took every gastrointestinal assault India threw my way! I learned that I am not an alcoholic; I just really like the feeling of a glass between me and the people around me. I realised that I am stronger than I thought, not physically but the kind of strength that can carry you through a dark place and into the light. I found out who my friends are. I learned to appreciate simple things like a smile from a stranger or a really great belly laugh.

Bollywood star in training

Most of all I learned to see the beauty in the seemingly random events in life. I was getting an oily, ayurvedic massage in a woman’s tin hut one day in Varkala. When it was finished, suddenly a huge clap of thunder shook the beach, we lost power and the hugest monsoon began. I had my laptop with me and was really far from my guesthouse, so she invited me to stay until the rain slowed down. She lit candles as her eight children rushed into the hut and away from the rain. We didn’t speak the same language, but we found a common love: dance and performance. The woman’s youngest daughter performed for us, singing in Hindi and dancing. Every movement told a story, and for four hours I sat there, mesmerized. Eventually she convinced me to get up too and I showed them some tap moves and ballet poses. I felt ridiculous and also accepted by these strangers whose lives I was able to penetrate for one evening in the dark. I felt honoured to have spent the time with her family. At home, I would have felt like an intruder, or felt anxious about being trapped in a hut with strangers, but it was one of those moments which I will always treasure. We had nothing in common but the rain and the fact that we both know what I look like naked, but we parted as friends.

I swear I wasn't holding them at gunpoint.

Accepting Imbalance

The thing I miss most about India is the feeling of accomplishment at the end of each day. The moment when I finally put my disgustingly dirty feet up and my head hit the pillow, I felt whole. “I didn’t die today!” I would think as I fell towards semi-consciousness. Traveling through India was enjoyable, sure, but it felt more like something to endure rather than enjoy. I’m guessing this is because it was my first time, but it really felt as though each day in which I survived was a small battle won. Communicating was a constant challenge and constantly having to have my guard up was draining. Accepting the poverty and pollution was an evolving process. And maintaining my own balance? Forget about it! I was never comfortable because I knew the moment I enjoyed a moment of equilibrium, something would be lurking for me around the corner to plummet me right back down.  I had to always stay neutral.

However, over time, the chaos of India became normal and even welcome. The constant fear of traveling alone dulled into a sense of exhilaration as I lived to “die another day”. I fell asleep quickly and easily, exhausted from the day’s events and happy to be safe. My lullaby was the sound of horns blaring, women wailing, cows mooing, engines backfiring and strange birds singing. I awoke with the dawn because I didn’t want to miss the colours of the sky over the Arabian Sea. And the best shit always happens in the morning in India! Village elephants are walked and bathed, devotees make offerings at the hilltop temples, pilgrims wash in the murky waters of the Ganges, fishermen cast their nets as feral cats prowl from afar… it all became the multi-hued palate of everyday India. I felt alive and connected to the energies of the world when I was learning about myself in relation to India.

And now I’m home. Huh. This home has changed so much for me. Normally, with reverse culture shock, a traveler returns from an epic adventure to find that they have changed substantially but that their familiar people and places have not. This was SO not true in my case! Within hours of touching down on Canadian soil, the things I had taken for granted, things like a comfortable home or a loving, kind partner, had changed. And I cannot imagine it being any other way. Returning to the same life, after such an altering personal experience, would have deflated me. In India, I challenged myself each day. I navigated an exotic world which wasn’t entirely safe. I overcame language barriers, learned new customs, shed my ingrained beliefs in order to adapt to a different way of life. I feel like that was preparation for my next stage, whatever that is.

So thank you India. Yes, you can be a real jerk sometimes, but I forgive you. 

Sometimes what appears to be a shitty situation is actually a heat source in the desert ;)

More Questions than Answers

Coming back from India was as hard as I expected. I didn’t want to leave. I felt as though my experience in India was incomplete. It didn’t help that I knew I was coming home to tough emotional hurdles but what I didn’t realise was that India had crept into my heart and planted roots there.  I don’t know what it is about the place that entangles you so, but India was like a self-destructive friend I couldn’t shake, nor did I want to. 

Cute AND corrupt, an awesome combo

Friends ask me what I loved most about India. That’s a difficult question to answer, especially on a superficial level because the answer is “nothing” and “everything”, all that once. What I loathed about India is what I came to love just as equally. Take, for example, the “annoying” habit Indians have of having no regard for line ups or a discernible queue. This initially drove me insane but on my last day in Mumbai, I finally accepted this as purely Indian. And so I overcame my Canadian-ness and I budged. It felt uncomfortable at first, especially considering I budged in front of a grandmother in the ferry line for Elephanta Island. However, she actually smiled at me and pushed on my back to budge in front of more people! On the other hand, I fell in love with the beautiful children who came across my path, all huge-eyed and blessedly quiet. But it would always be a con-artist-in-training kid who could ruin an otherwise brilliant day by aggressively begging for rupees or pick-pocketing me on a train.

Welcoming a stranger

My initial reaction to India was one of horrific wonder. Such a beautiful place populated with the most beautiful people! And then such terrible pollution, poverty and corruption.  The feeling when I left it was of awe. I had so many questions when I landed in India, many of which I still don’t have answers for. How does it even work? All those people, so little space, dwindling resources, drought, famine, terrorism, chaos. How do the people of India welcome people with open arms into their homes and communities? How do the majority of Indians live off of so little and consider themselves wealthy? How does the system of India work so seamlessly, as if there is an undercurrent of energy keeping the scales balanced?

  

I realise that I will have to return to India one day to find these answers. My first time in India was more about surviving than absorbing if I am being completely honest with myself. A palmist told me I would return in 2013, and that sounds about right to me. I’ve got a year+ to prepare. I think I’ll take up kick-boxing and a procure a year’s supply of hand sanitizer.

Cast Out of Eden

I don't even remember this being taken - Spaniard, Drunky & Bad Influence

The night that I first tried to leave India was emotional to say the least. My travel companion, a beautiful Spaniard who I am so blessed to have met, caught the brunt of it. If anyone has seen me at a wedding or post-barn dance, they will have an idea of what I was like. Essentially, I was having a temper tantrum fueled by one too many Kingfisher beers. Xabier the Spaniard (yup, that’s his full name), and I had spent my last night having great conversation over cheap beer in Bombay. At one point, a friend from my cohort and probably the worst influence ever, walked by randomly and joined us. Things got a little fuzzy for me after that but I remember back at our hotel, packing for my 4am flight, and throwing rupees around and crying not-so-prettily. There was ranting involved. I think I threw money directly at my Spaniard while yelling “Take it, I don’t need it anymore because I’m LEAVING. WAHHHHHHHHH”. Not really my finest moment. 

But Xabier was patient, and with a gentle kiss to my forehead, he put me in a taxi. I cried the entire hour to the airport. My driver pretended not to notice the emotional cripple in his backseat and happily pointed out landmarks along the way. With a heavy heart, I entered the airport, praying for a natural disaster to impede me from getting on my plane. I checked my dirty backpack with Korean Air, sullenly accepted my boarding passes and found the nearest seat to sink into.

I don’t know if I consciously sabotaged myself, but what I do know is that at 4:50am, when I woke up from an impromptu airport nap, I had officially become my own natural disaster. I had missed my flight. I have never been so panicked and simultaneously self-loathing in my life. The man next to me, sporting a huge turban and the sweetest mustache ever, was taken aback when the sleeping pile of booziness next to him jumped out of her seat and flew down the hall cursing loudly. I'm not sure what I was thinking, but I thought that going through security was a good idea. They stopped me there and pointed out that I was an hour late for my flight. And so began an intercultural exchange that I will never live down. I was dragged throughout the airport, into back offices, scary security rooms and all over the concourse as they shook their heads (no Indian head bobbles now) and tried to figure out what to do with me. I was apologizing the entire time, berating myself for my own stupidity and still in shock. I don't miss planes. I am hyper-organized and would never miss my plane. Was this a dream? My dad is going to kill me. Staff and airport security spoke in Hindi and only occasionally addressed the panicked white girl, usually to ask "why you so stupid Canadian?" 

I sat in a room of attendants while it was sorted out. They thought it was hilarious that I just sat myself down and passed out, not even considering finding my terminal to at least sleep there. I, on the other hand, didn't find it hilarious. But in connecting with them, I felt suddenly like everything would be ok. This is India after all. I had heard the words 'In India, anything is possible" all over the country whether I was trying to buy my way onto a packed train or covertly asked someone where I could find a decent steak around here (turns out, Pondicherry!) I slowly calmed down, and began to listen to their stories about their families, their friends and spouses. I quickly learned that they all wanted to come with me to Canada. They asked me if it truly was as beautiful as people say (damn straight it is!) and if there were many Indians where I lived. They asked how much I would pay them to clean my home or drive my car for me. Most had friends or family living in Toronto. They asked if I had any single friends who would like an Indian wife to cook for him, or perhaps an Indian husband to make the pretty babies with? I had such a great time joking with these people that I almost forgot about my bonehead move.

Gateway to India, Bombay Harbour

But this bonehead move was the best drunken mistake I have ever made. Korean Air was amazing, and laughingly teased the sleepy, drunk Canadian as they sorted out my fate. As it turns out, the same flight was leaving in two days. I could be on that one. They didn’t charge me anything. They sent me back into Mumbai as the sun was rising over the hazy city and I felt such peace. I had my carry-on luggage, my hand sanitizer, the clothes on my back and I was ecstatic. When I arrived at the hotel, Xabier opened the door, boxer-clad and sleepy eyed. But even in the early morning hours his grin and broken English line “I knew you would be back”, really cinched the fact that I was where I belonged.

Two days later, and much more sober and emotionally level, I did leave India. I was ready. I took in all the sights I wanted and made some beautiful new friends. And when I arrived at the airport, I felt like a rockstar. Everyone knew my name! It was like the t.v. show “Cheers”, only with semi-automatic rifles and baggage tags. People teasingly asked if I had a nap that day. Others asked how many beers I had consumed and if my father was as mad at me as I had thought he would be (turns out no, he’s awesome!) Korean Air staff even found me, pre-flight, as I was greedily eating my last masala dosa. They wanted to ensure I wasn’t nodding off in a corner somewhere. And when the wheels pulled up from the Mumbai airport tarmac, I was at peace. I was going home. Home to my family, my cat, my home and the awesome people I am so lucky to call friends.

Taj Mahal Palace hotel, site of 2008 terrorist attack and one beautiful monument