Preface: This was actually written on October 10th, 2011. It's being posted late because it took me a while to find an outlet to charge my computer and a working internet connection. Much has happened since the events of this blog, but that will be described at a later time. For now, here was my first day in India.
Okay, picture this. I’m sitting on a foldout bed in a train above Ali and Brian as we ride our way from Chennai to Cochin, two cities on opposite sides of India, a massive land of over one billion people. Ali is playing cards with a deck I lent her with a friendly Indian man and Brian is reading something on his kindle. We’ve been riding for about an hour and still have about 11 hours to go. How is this my life?
Up until now, I’ve been waiting until the end of ports (or way after, in the case of Mauritius) to write entries about my adventures and musings. I’ve decided to switch things up a bit this time. Everybody that didn’t support Obama’s campaign buzz word of “change” can go ahead and write me a personal letter of complaint about mixing my style to Sam Faktorow, 3rd Deck Outside, The MV Explorer, Somewhere, The World, and I’ll do my best to respond in a prompt manner. I also expect it to be attached to an owl, simply because Harry Potter is awesome. Anyway, my primary reason to write something on the first day is I feel like I miss things when I wait until the end. Journaling on paper in a diary, for some reason, doesn’t do much for me. I mean, I understand the value of it, but I can’t seem to bring myself to journal on the same level most of my friends do. Plus, my blog here is basically my electronic journal, full of my observations, opinions, feelings, and questions. Second, today has been an adventure in and of itself. We were told there is no way to prepare for India and I already feel unprepared and overwhelmed. I love it, though. Thirdly, I need a way to pass a time on this train that doesn’t involve gnawing on one of the metal bars from my own stir crazy thumb twiddling.
The night before arriving into India, the yoga class I attend every other day on the ship was taught outside on the 5th Deck. All you yogis out there, imagine sun salutations on the back of a ship as you approach into India, the very land yoga originated. If that’s not the perfect way to enter India for the first time, I don’t know what is. Though the humidity made it difficult to focus at times, it was still a moment of validation in terms of my yoga practice. I am certain I will continue as the voyage ends.
I did not wake up for the entry into Chennai. Frankly, the port is ugly. You can’t even see the city. It’s a huge change from the pink beaches, green mountains, and small skyscrapers of Port Louis, Mauritius and the touristy V&A Waterfront and blanket of clouds above Table Mountain of Cape Town, South Africa. I munched on my breakfast happily until I was called to retrieve my passport and go through customs. I had an SAS trip first thing in the morning, Yoga Demonstration in the Union on the ship. Though relatively short, I enjoyed watching and being guided through several moves and positions I had yet to do on my own. I was able to buy a book and an instructive CD as well, so hopefully those will come in handy.
Afterwards, I wandered out to the reception desk where tour guides had set up a little stand with guide books and maps. While I was there, I ran into Lou. Remember her? The splendid Swede (there’s that alliteration again) who set up the homestay in Senase, Ghana? Yes, her. The two of us decided we wanted to go into Chennai for lunch. I hurried to my room, set my yoga mat down, and changed into different clothes. I met up with her and Jeremy and sauntered off the ship into a brand new continent, a brand new world I’ve long heard about: Asia. Okay, so perhaps you might be thinking India is to Asia as Morocco was to Africa: not “Asian.” Whatever you want to argue, I am geographically and politically on the 4th of four continents I will be visiting this year. I’d rather not think about how time is slowly slipping away, so I’m going to ignore that I just said that. Don’t bring it up to me if we end up conversing, reader, if you actually exist, that is.
Lou, Jeremy, and I made it to the outside of the port. Some rickshaw drivers met us, offering to drive us places. We were hesitant to take a ride, thinking we could save some money and walk into the city. After some bartering, we agreed to take a rickshaw with Vijay and Morgan. I believe his name was Morgan, at least. They both kept calling me “Sham,” “Slam,” and “Siam,” so for now, his name is Morgan. Vijay and Morgan took us on a brief city tour, stopping off at the beach, a church, a Hindi temple, two department stores, and a restaurant. While we were on the beach, they let us drive the rickshaw. Yes, folks, that’s right. I drove a rickshaw and did not crash. Maybe now I’ll be able to drive an actual car in America without wrecking it. We’ll see. The church we went to, St. Someone-Who-I-Could-Check-The-Name-Of-On-My-Camera-But-It’s-Buried-In-My-Backpack-And-I-Have-No-Internet-Right-Now, was one of the three churches in the world that contained the tomb of an Apostle of Jesus Christ, the other two being St. Somebody-Else in Spain and St. Peter’s in Vatican City. Having gone to Vatican City at the ripe age of 11, I am two for three on these churches. I’m a regular devout Catholic! As for the temple, it was right by a busy market and featured some pretty fascinating artwork. We weren’t allowed inside, but the exterior was captivating; pictures soon, potentially. The two stores, though, were basically the same: big, tacky, and filled with expensive trinkets for gullible tourists. My final stop, the restaurant, was definitely the highlight. Indian food takes the cake (ha) when it comes to all the countries we have been to thus far. It’s spicy, flavorful, and filling. Plus, we are expected to eat with our hands. A messy man need not complain.
The adventure didn’t stop there. Brian, Ali, and I were supposed to meet at 3:45 P.M. to venture to the airport in order to catch a flight from Chennai to Cochin, Kozhikode, or Thiruvananthapuram (yeah, I can’t say it either), one of the airports in Kerala, our destination for the week. Ali ended up being late, mostly because her FDP ran long. We weren’t too worried, so we hopped into a taxi and ventured to the airport, an hour away on the other side of the city. Well, as luck would have it, all the flights we had hoped to catch were sold out or too close to leaving to let us purchase a ticket. Who would’ve thought the last flight out would be at 7:15? Every ticketing agent said the same thing, which ended up getting a touch frustrating. Without even a trace of panic, we researched other ways to make it to Kerala that night. With the help of an airport employee, we found an overnight train from Chennai Central to Cochin via the Alleppey Express. Quickly piling into another taxi, we ventured back across the city to the train station. Through the massive crowds, poorly structured bureaucratic nightmare, and sweltering non-air conditioned heat, we somehow figured out how to purchase our tickets for the train. We scarfed down some food (sidenote: my meal cost less than $1 and filled me up perfectly; looks like my budget isn’t totally screwed from failed taxi rides!) and then found our platform. Inside the train, we set our stuff down, and relaxed as our adventure really started to take shape and come together.
I guess I felt inspired to write this because in this one day, I feel like India as a place, a body of people, and a world beyond anything else will never actually leave me. The smells already have pleasantly poked at and disgustingly invaded my nasal cavity. The people have been far more friendly and talkative than I expected. The beggars, though sad, are as much a part of the experience as anything else. The food cannot even be simply described. I have had to bite my tongue and keep cool at numerous points during the day in order to not let a jaded westernized viewpoint get in the way of trying to understand this confusing place. Keeping cool has been a theme as I’ve figured out how to navigate my way about.
India, so far, doesn’t seem quite real. The mystique so often portrayed and talked about is there and is as wonderful as I hoped for. India, so far, is shaping into an experience, rather than just a place. All of this from just one day may seem premature, but it’s true when people say India is in-your-face from the beginning. It hasn’t let up one bit, and I’m looking forward to more.
This took about an hour to write. Ten hours left in this limbo before stepping off into Kerala!
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