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.