My Journey's Ending

Well, after three flights, my journey across the world came to an end.  Was it a peaceful or happy end? It was until I arrived at the Minneapolis airport.

I had an amazing time in India and was sad to leave.  Saying my goodbyes was tough, and I had to fight back a couple of tears.  The Selvaraj family took me to a goodbye dinner before driving me to the airport.  A HUGE thank you to them for hosting me and being so hospitable. In the first picture, Mary Selvaraj with their dog, Benji, (named after Benjamin McKenzie of The OC... their other dog is Mischa, and her name also comes from on of the show's stars).

By some miracle, I managed to sleep six HOURS on the plane from Bangalore to Paris--compare that to the three hours total I slept on the way to Bangalore--so the first fight went by fast.  The plane exchanges in Paris and Amsterdam went smoothly, and I managed to sleep an extra two hours on the flight from Amsterdam to Minneapolis.  NOTE: It was storming when I came in, so amidst the turbulence and random drops we experienced during our descent I was creating dents in the armrests with my fingernails :)


After landing is when the story of my trip home became difficult.  I waited at the baggage claim in the immigration area of MSP airport.  I still had to go through customs, and my parents would be waiting for me after.  As bag after bag was placed on the carousel, my bag was nowhere to be seen.  There was an announcement: they would open up a second carousel for bags from my flight, so I sauntered over to the second carousel and waited some more.  Bags passed: black bags, Saran-wrapped bags, bags with Christmas ribbons on them, pink bags, but not my bag.  A couple of other passengers were left with me, watching the carousel go round and round.  After I had waited long enough, I asked an older gentleman, who worked at the airport, if there were any more bags.  He said no and pulled out a list.  "If you're name's on this list, honey," he said, "then you can exit and go to the Delta baggage desk to give them your address."  Sure enough, my name was on the list.  The Netherlands had lost my luggage.

I met my parents outside customs, and after about an hour in line at the Delta help desk, I gave the woman my address and bag description.  Finally, I was able to leave the airport.

We went to Perkins and I had TWO GIANT GLASSES OF MILK and a club sandwich... mmmmmm... and  went to bed about 7:15pm... jet lag ensued.  I ended up getting my bag back two days later (Wednesday morning).  One of the up-sides to getting my bag back: my gifts!  So as not to spoil any surprises, I'll only show you two of the gifts I brought back, because the recipients have already received them.

Almost Goodbye

It's early morning Saturday here in Bangalore.  Sudhir and I have one interview left for our research project, and plans for dinner tonight with some of his friends as a goodbye. I can't believe there are only two days left of the trip!

I'm so excited to come home and see everyone, and Maxwell [my nephew from Georgia] will be flying to Minnesota in the next couple of days, so I am BEYOND ecstatic to see him.  Nonetheless, I'm trying to take in the last few memories of my time in Bangalore.

This trip has been different from a normal vacation.  There are obvious reasons:  I'm traveling solo, I'm staying (more or less) with a local family, and I'm doing research for a project (therefore I'm working while I'm here).  The result of these non-vacation variables is an experience that is somewhere between tourist and exchange student.  Walking that line is interesting.  The relationships I've made here are the type a study abroad student would make, and they should have had months to develop. When I return and tell people I've recently spent 3 weeks in India, they'll wonder what I've seen: the Taj Mahal? No. Goa? No. Monkeys? Well, yes, actually.

My trip to Bangalore has been more than a visit to see the tourist attractions (what my travels usually are).  It was a slice of life, a glimpse into the every day Indian in Bangalore.  There was minimal candy coating.  I had a daily whiff of the garbage the crows and cows were scrounging through.  I've seen battered women hiding their swollen lips.  I've had to turn away from beggars, looking me in the eye, asking for something, anything.


Yes, I've seen sadness, but I've also seen life, a joie de vivre that is sometimes lacking at home.  India is a social community, the structure is dependent on the services of others.  Clothes are tailored locally, fruits bought from the market, appliances purchased from family-owned shops.  Big industry has it's place here, sure, but so does a local economy and a sense of being a piece of the puzzle in the community--providing a service and accepting the hard work of others.  When you pass someone you know on the street, they do not ask with a rehearsed tone, "How's it going?" and only half anticipate an answer.  They put on hold wherever they were going and chat: "How is your mother? Is your bother doing well in school? Did you get my new cell phone number?  Well here it is.  Come to my mom's house next week and she'll cook you dinner, OK?"

In my first week here, Maya, an intern at Visthar, finished her time here and said her goodbyes before returning to Finland.  Everyone asked her what she would miss about India.  "The people," she said.  At the time, I wondered if my answer would be the same.

It is.

Top Causes of Culture Shock

Spicy Food, Eating with Hands

This is the issue I expected to have the hardest time with while I was in India.  Not being able to handle the spices at each meal would have caused a trip of misery.  Fortunately, my hosts have been kind with the power of their spices, making sure my comfort level is reasonable.  I have been eating yummy dishes of rice and chicken and curry and chilies and spinach and vegetables and other staples very comfortably.  That’s not to say I don’t still have the American palate… expect me to make a stop at Burger King and drink about a gallon of 1% milk within 24 hours of landing in the US.  Also, I am now marginally awesome at eating rice dishes with my hands... a talent I am willing to showcase to anyone who is curious enough upon my return.  

City Atmosphere
More of my culture shock comes from being in a big city than it does from being in India.  Cars zoom by as pedestrians race across the median like in a game of Frogger.  Surprisingly, I have only witnessed one accident since I’ve been here: a man walking across the street roll over the front tire of a bicycle.  He was hardly frazzled by this encounter as he stood up, waved at the bicyclist, and continued on with his day.

Getting Starred At

Never in my life have I garnered so much attention.  When I walk down the streets of Bangalore, auto rickshaw drivers do a double take when they see me: a white girl.  Little girls whisper and point from the back of their parents’ motorcycles. Vendors offer me mangoes and bananas.  I can only see the eyes of women in burqas, but they’re starring at me.  In their defense, I am not at the heart of tourist city.  I’m in a normal, residential area of Bangalore, which doesn’t get much white girl traffic. 

“Wild”life

At the end of last week, Sudhir was nice enough to escort Glenn from my window.  As the little guy scurried out, one of his cousins made a mad dash inside.  We left my window open (the Velcro screen was still in place) to the outside until the second Gecko left, and shut the window tight.  Today, as I was getting ready for school, I noticed yet another of Glenn’s cousins roaming around my window.  I have named him John Glenn.  Oh joy.  Other animals I’ve seen since I’ve been here: Donkeys, monkeys, camels, cows, oxen, and a cockroach. 

Mango Time!

The Selvaraj family has 23 mango trees.  Yes, 23 mango trees.  If they want to harvest said mangoes, someone must climb up 23 mango trees and throw down the fruit to someone else who will catch (not drop) and place them in a bucket.

Sudhir and I... with a mango... but not one that was picked from his house... it's one that a random mango man gave me on the side of the road... "Here ma'am, have a mango."

I wasn't so helpful with mango picking.  Sudhir would catch a mango, underhand toss it to me, and I would place it gently into the basket.  Julie = glorified backboard.  

Some of the mango trees in the front of the house (and Siddarth)

Sudhir catching mangoes (ACTION SHOT!)

The Jackpot

Meet Glenn

There is a gecko trapped between my window and the screen that is fastened by Velcro (snuggly) around it, and I have named him Glenn.  For those of you who know me well enough to know my admiration of lizard, snake, worm, or bird-like animals, you know that I intend to keep him trapped inside the window until he dies... poor little guy.

You should also know that I'm 95% sure there's a bat living in my ceiling... I have now heard him flying around two nights in a row, and have found suspect ceiling and [minimal] excrement fragments in my room.  I have yet to name this bat, because I hate him.

When I get back to my room each night I have a momentary freak out, because I either hear the damned bat, or cannot see Glenn in the windowsill anymore and am convinced he is in my bed (no worries, he's still in the window the last I checked).

Busy Busy Busy

A general recollection of my Monday and Tuesday:

In the morning I hang out at Visthar, working on projects, until Siddarth picks me up around 11:30 or noon.

Signs on the entry to Visthar's road

 From Visthar, we go to Sudhir's mom's school, a school for children with differential learning styles. I began teaching creative writing there on Monday. As of right now, my classroom plan is to write a play.  Siddarth, who just got his MFA in Film Production from Boston University, will help the students use what they write to perform for their parents in about a month.  In the meantime, we are helping them create characters, conflict, and dialog.  

I finish teaching around 2pm, eat a fabulous lunch sent over from Visthar with some combination of Sudhir, Siddarth, and Mary (their mom) joining me, and then Sudhir and I work on our research project.  

... a summation of our research project in 30 seconds (of typing) or less... GO:

Sudhir and I are compiling interviews with Indian scholars and members of the community about Gandhi.  Our aim is to broaden our audience's (which is Concordia) knowledge of Gandhi's contribution to India, so his influence on Martin Luther King Jr. and the Civil Rights Movement further explored.  We will be presenting at our schools's Martin Luther King Jr. Celebration in January 2011.  

... OK, that was a minute and 15 seconds of typing... but I hope you get the point. 

Pause for a story: on Tuesday, Sudhir and I spent the afternoon working on interview questions (we have around 8 interviews we're hoping to accomplish) while listening to Y94 (Fargo's Top 40 radio station) on the internet.  I know what you're thinking, and yes, we are that cool.

After we work in the afternoons, we go to the Renegade Amateur Theater Society (RATS) meeting until around 8pm. RATS is lead by Siddarth and they're organizing/preparing a play for August.  While I'm here, I'll be helping them out with a press release, website stuff, and other PR-type work.

Once RATS is finished, we head to Sudhir's house and have dinner with his mom and relax for a couple of minutes before I go back to Visthar for some sleep.

Auto Rickshaw Adventures

The yellow-on-top, green-on-bottom buggy is called an auto rickshaw and is fundamentally awesome.  My experience in riding them is one part Valley Fair ride, one part taxicab.

A note on Bangalore traffic rules: lanes are a loose guideline of where the road divides and each lane's actual width is open to the interpretation of anyone driving.  Passing on the left while dodging oncoming traffic is not just common occurrence... it is necessary to reach your destination safely.

Rickshaw drivers take one look at me and jack up their price.  Poor Sudhir has to haggle them down or wait for a reasonable rickshaw every time we use one (which has only been three or four times so far on the trip).  Nonetheless, the trip is always a bumpy, fast adventure as I watch the world of Bangalore fly by.

Pictures from the Auto: