Moving on!

With that first, slightly "downer" of a post, I am ready to move on and share with you the brilliance that is India through these weary western eyes of mine.

I left Victoria, BC with a third full backpack and absolutely no idea of what to expect when I landed. Luckily, I had 24 hours in transit and several textbooks to prepare me. My first glimpse of India was by the light of a red half moon over a sleeping Mumbai. My apologies to the 80-something Indian grandmother sitting beside me as my face was glued to the window, my breath not half as steamy as the warm water droplets forming already on the outside of the glass. Customs was simple, and I was delighted to receive my first ever Indian Head Waggle (which I am conducting my first field study on in Ahmedabad) from the customs desk when I asked my first of many, dumb questions. "What do I do now?"

Flying over the Pacific towards Seoul Icheon Intl Airport

I wasn't "feeling" Mumbai at that precise moment, I wanted to escape south, where I expected less crowds and a more tropical vibe. Buying a ticket to Trivandrum, Kerala proved to be my first challenge as A) I couldn't pronounce the name right and had to grab my Rough Guide to India handbook (Loser moment #1) and B) I wanted to pay with credit card, but the three men behind what seemed more like a lemonade stand than a ticket desk, said cash only, or "we add mega fine to your Visa".
 I wasn't sure what that meant, but it didn't sound good so I forked over 6000 rupees and stood in line for the free terminal shuttle.

The shuttle turned out to be kinda scary. A decrepit bus pulled up behind the dimly lit airport hanger and I, along with about 20 men, got on. Everyone stared at me like I had three heads, possibly because I was white and female but more likely because I was sweating so much I could feel it dripping down from the backs of my knees onto my heel. The shuttle brought me to the domestic terminal, but not the one I needed to be at. So at 2am, I lugged my bag around a dark parking lot filled with sleeping rickshaw drivers and wild dogs. I didn't really know where I was going, but I figured I would end up somewhere near the terminal. Many drivers stirred as I hobbled past and offered me a ride. Luckily I said no because the terminal was about 20 ft around the corner (sneaksy rickshaw drivers). The security at this airport were pretty intense, and wouldn't let me in the building until I produced my passport, visa and submitted to a metal detector and physical search in the "Ladies Only" line.

Mumbai Domestic Airport

Waiting for the plane was an experience. I was the only white person on my plane, and was therefore somewhat of a curiosity to my fellow passengers. To escape the stares, I went up to the "slumber lounge" where I was alone until six 30-something Indian men came up as well and sat on either side of me, and across as well. In an empty lounge, this felt odd but also comforting. They chatted amongst themselves in Hindi, never taking notice of the Canadian who was happily re-organizing her backpack for the 20th time (OCD knows no borders or timezones). About an hour went by before their plane was called and they got up, one by one, and said good-bye to me, as if we had been chatting all that time. I don't know why, but I felt invincible in that moment.

Eventually my plane was called, and along with 200 Indians, I boarded Air India with Trivandrum as my destination. My travel companion was a business man who asked what would be my traveler's script for my time in India: Was I married? Did I have children? What did I do for a living? How much did that pay? How much did I pay for my ticket? Could he have a picture of me? I asked similiar questions of him and found out that he was married, had two daughters who were recently married, and didn't want any grandkids just yet. He made me laugh over the two hour flight because he called the stewardess 8 times in such a small amount of time. Mostly to ask for more water, or more milk for his coffee or if he could get up while the light was on because he "really had to go". The stewardess was stunning, and patient ;)

Trivandrum is the capital of India's most southern state, Kerala. The airport is surrounded by lush vegetation, colourful birds and grey necked ravens. Guards armed with automatic rifles glare intensely as cabs and rickshaws battle out front. A few bejeweled ladies were keen to know where I was from and if I would stay with them next time I was in India (Ok!).

I cabbed into the city center for 300 rupees, past muddy cricket pitches, tethered goats and horned bovine chewing lazily in the fields. Once out of the rural areas, I was shocked by the pace and hoards of people crowded onto the packed earth streets, not to mention the smells and the way the air clings to your skin like PVC. There is no way to describe it, so I won't try. I didn't even navigate it for the firstafternoon I was here, I just found somewhere to sleep and eat (TeeKay Palace on Aristo Rd) and waited for my lens to shift. More on city life after I've had about 12 hours of sleep...