an india recap

Rock climbing. Rickshaw racing. Old City shopping. Picture Drawing. Waterfalls. Hindu temples.

If that sounds like the intro to a fantastical read, then please, let me guide you though an adventure of a lifetime. It is moderately plausible that you will not be disappointed.

In my dreams of India I must have thought I was going to be walking into an emerald jungle. There would be a machete on my hip and a monkey named Phillip that I had tamed in a two hour time-frame on my shoulder. I would split my time between riding rickshaws through the cities and exploring the jungle with locals. My diet would consist of coconut water and curried rice. A reasonable imagination and moderate expectations are key. Believing that I would meet Indians is one of the only things I actually got correct. I also drank out of a coconut in a rickshaw, but used a straw, so it only half counts.

Where I  found myself was more like a Californian dessert mixed with Florida’s humidity. Homesickness quickly sunk in. I was living the opportunity to be in India with family I hadn’t seen in a long time, not having to go to work, meeting friendly folks, relaxing, reading books, indulging in naps and still taking the time to feel sorry for myself.

I find the best remedy for an unreasonable mindset is exploring something new. The first attempt to quench my pseudo woes came in the form of rock boulders. They looked very unassuming; a quick little jaunt to the top seemed reasonable. Once informed that poisonous creatures were waiting to fearfully strike me, romping through foliage betwixt these large rocks seemed a bit less of an option. The farther up we walked the larger the natural monoliths became. We were climbing and jumping from one solid mass to the next.

There is no photographic evidence to contradict me, so I will relate that I looked like a celestial gazelle. Did I almost face-plant into a rock as a result of a three-foot jump? Or stop climbing up because I didn’t know how I would get back down? Crab-walk/slide down a six-foot bolder only after my brother promised to help me down? It’s hard to say. What I can confirm is that my brother kept yelling ” Eat your heart out, Bear Grylls!” after pulling himself up a stone with a rope made of twisted vines. We later caught an episode of ‘Man vs Wild’ and realized we may have slightly  over-indulged our imaginations in the severity of our feats.

A couple days later we headed down to Old City Hyderabad to shop and see some of the architecture such as Charminar. Looking for a Sari was a bit stressful as there were so many vendors with so many options to choose from. I was about to talk myself out of purchasing one altogether. When would I use it again once I was back home? Luckily I was with people who so rightly pointed out that I was abroad, and that is the perfect time to purchase a garment that would most likely only be worn once in public. That was enough for me. I found one that was purple and green with gold trim. It is currently residing at a local tailor being fit to size in time for my nephew’s birthday.

I am sure you are wondering, where ever will the celebration be? Well, at the same place we went on Valentine’s day, Cheers! It is a home that is open to children who need a safe place to stay. This visit really changed my attitude about my stay. The kids were a joy to be around, I truly did not want to leave. Part of the reason may have been because I was able to teach art, something that I did as a Preschool Teacher and really enjoy. They were so proud of their teddy bears and rocket ships and even more excited when given individual boxes of chocolate afterwards!

We got a tour of the the building that is being renovated to make room for more kids.People taking care of each other stirs something in my heart, I really believe that is what God created us to do. “Cheers” is a live example of what opening your heart and home can do for others. Reluctantly we had to head home, but I am really looking forward to next weekend to see all their friendly faces again.

Saturday brought a three hour drive to Ethipothella Falls. Besides the gated barrier that stopped us from falling over a rocky cliff, it was a day that my little Dora the Explorer heart  had been hoping for. There were crocodiles in the water, green trees, monkeys with thievery in their hearts, and parrots flying. There was even a flash monsoon! We headed down a little path that lead us to a Hindu temple. The bright colors of the building and peoples clothing in contrast to the natural brown and greens surrounding gave the feeling of tranquil flowers in bloom. It was a delightful end to the versatile experiences unexpectedly encountered through this week.

 

india: first you have to get there

I had not left my country of origin for 5 years. As a general rule for pilgrimages I tend to gravitate to locations that promise a degree of financial asylum.  My brother and his family had moved to Southern India, well, the North of South India to be more precise. So off I went to the wild blue yonder for good company and a free place to stay for a few weeks.

LA to London, 7 hours of layover, London to Mumbai.

When I got to India I had a little over an hour to catch a connecting flight to Hyderabad.  There was a slight problem however: I needed to fill out an entrance form but had not written down the address of my destination. It was in a facebook message; but as I  had no internet reception to retrieve the information you might as well have called me vinegar. That’s right friends, I was in a pickle.  So I decided to use the only thing i knew to compensate for my lack of preparedness at the international security desk: confidence. That was rewarded with a guided tour to Indian  Immigration Security.

I told myself not to cry just because I was tired, frustrated, and trying to figure out where I was going to sleep in this small holding room until I was deported.  But I did cry. I. did. cry. Someone finally gave me their cell phone to use and I got the address I was looking for from my brother, and gave him an update on the situation.

At this point I had about 30 minutes to get back in line for International entry approval, beg a few people to cut in line, run to baggage claim, find out I was at the wrong baggage claim, run to the second baggage claim at the other side of the building, grab my bag, take it through security, have a man cut in front of me and start putting his bags through security, me strictly explaining to him that I had 20 minutes to get to my plane, proceed to put my bags through security without waiting for a rebuttal from him, run through a few more security points, have my bag checked, begging to be let through to get on the bus for the the departing terminal as there was about 8 minutes left to get on my plane, and then being told the flight to Hyderabad had been delayed.

I calmed the heck down and got on a bus that zig-zagged, swirled, and twisted leisurely back and forth on the tarmac. This made a 15 minute ride out of what could have been about a third of the time. But I wasn’t going to miss my flight, so who was I to complain? Instead I labeled it as an observation.

Jet-lag seems to have bypassed me and I am thankful for it. These last few days have been laid-back and delightful. I’m hanging out with my niece,  getting beat-up by my nephew, illustrating a book, watching cartoons, learning about minimalist camping and laughing  with my brother and sister-in-law.

I’ll take it.