It has been over six weeks in India--along with a blessed respite in Nepal.
That's it, if you trust my feeble awareness of how much time has truly passed.
It feels like five months to me.
I am currently typing this post with an arm still sore for a minor train accident (in which I lamely fell off the bunker and crashed into a gentleman's arms) and with the body and mind somewhat frail from several intense days of being painfully ill from food poisoning.
In one sense, I am a hot mess.
In other sense, I am having the adventure of a lifetime.
So, because I am not in my best condition of reflecting on what have been happening to Violet and me during our time in India and Nepal, I'll give you the snapshots of tales here and there to carry you with us as we go to our next adventure after India: Thailand.
Without much ado, here are the short tales:
Food Poisoning
Well, this illness is the shit.
After hearing so many horror tales from friends about food/water poisoning in India, I told myself that, clearly, I was doomed to suffer the same fate while in India.
However, after nearly six weeks in India, I started to imagine myself coming back to the United States bragging about making this far without succumbing to this dreaded illness.
Ha.
I was wrong. Absolutely, stupidly, thoroughly wrong. Six weeks abroad were long enough to shake up my health.
I might be exaggerating, especially as my memories of other illnesses had sunk into near oblivion, but it must be the worst illness ever in my existence thus far.
Okay, now that I'm really thinking about it, no, it's not the worst. It's terrible, horrifying, painful, and discomfortable, made worse by the fact that we were in a foreign land, arriving in a town we had only two minutes to become acquainted with before we rushed to find a hotel.
Violet began to feel it on the train and had to endure it overnight in the crowded coach.
I began to feel it as we went on a desperate search for a hotel that will offer Violet--and eventually me--some degree of comfort while we succumb completely to food poisoning.
We were very, very lucky in a way that our friend from Mumbai happened to be accompanying us at the time of our sudden illness. I shuddered just to imagine what it will take us to recover without his devoted nursing.
On the other hand, he's not too lucky in a way that he's alone in being aware that we were recuperating next to the room where the British couple had been found dead from a drug overdose and that the police were swarming (yes, I totally turned this noun into a verb) outside our door for hours.
Food poisoning or knowing what's out there?
Your pick.
Gawkers
Eyes filled with pity. Eyes filled with lust. Eyes filled with curiosity.
Oceans of eyes. Seas of eyes. Worlds of eyes.
Eyes, eyes, eyes.
I do not think I'll ever gawk at an animal in the zoo in the same way again.
Because I feel like an animal stuck in a zoo, my every single movement watched with fascination from Indians.
At first, I tried to shrug it off, pretending that I am a celebrity.
But even celebrities have their limits with the paparazzi. I reached mine after returning from Nepal.
I eat with a crowd peeking in. I talk with a crowd laughing. I read with a crowd pointing fingers.
I lost my precious physical space, something I was prepared for when I first arrived in India, but my visual space?
NO.
It is difficult not to assign too much value on their eyes and facial expressions, especially when my native cultural roots (RE: American Deaf Culture) have instilled in me this profound sensitivity to this sort of thing.
It is exhausting to go through the day, bargaining with drivers, exploring the city, or even resting for five minutes, just to know that you will not have your desired space. You get what you get, period.
If you do not like it, well, too bad because you ask for it.
Like me, asking to go to India* to see what they can do to my precious limits.
Ah, life do take your wishes so seriously sometimes.
Whisper your wishes into his ear
Blessed Respite
No photo can truly capture the
essence of Nepal
Nepal.
A tiny birthland of Lord Buddha. Home to the world's highest peak, Mount Everest.
And the place that calmed and claimed our hearts as soon as we arrived in Kathmandu.
Kathmandu in particular dazed us with its delicate yet powerful beauty, its cozy plazas and, for me, its comforting coldness.
In our short time in Kathmandu, we met several wonderful and intriguing people whose tales, thoughts, and lives delighted us, surprised us and made us think.
In a small way, we felt like we were home just in time for autumn.
Yeah, that ode to homesickness.
And Nepal responded warmly to our ode, comforting our hearts and sending us back to the ever-changing India.
Small Victories
Hey, hey, India is beautiful. Electrifying, unpredictable, and beautiful. This country has challenged me, frustrated me, tossed me around, and embraced me tighter than I was prepared for.
I've noticed that the more I force myself to mentally adjust my old perspective about what I am seeing right front of me (no easy task--it's like telling yourself that an apple in your hand is now an orange), the better I respond to it--and the better responses I get from others.
There are numerous small victories throughout our journey that seem to suggest that Violet and I did something right somehow in our attempts to respond to situations and people around us.
One small victory: Shutting down The Witch** in the coach with a series of Indian gestures I've picked up on the streets.
The coach was overcrowded to the point where we all had to squeeze in together on the floor. In spite of this obvious fact, The Witch demanded extra space to what was already large enough for herself. The man spoke up for her, probably wanting to stop listening to her complaints by resolving the matter on her behalf. He gestured to me to move further, which would mean I have to push dozens of children and their mothers into even tinier spots for themselves.
No, I gestured to the man, hoping that my blue eyes would drive terror into his heart, no, no more space for her. We all are overcrowded over here and are already oversharing our space for her sake. No more space for her. No!
The matter was immediately dropped. Apparently, I did the Indian gestures right.
The other small victory: Every time Violet and I manage to scare gawkers' eyes off by assertively challenging their eyes with our own eyes along with sharp gestures. We treasure every victory we earn. One of our most delightful victories occurred while we were returning to India from Nepal.
Five young people sat themselves on a bus in a way that they can easily see us. Their mouths literally gapped open as they whispered and looked down and up at us for good ten minutes.
Violet and I were exhausted from our sleepless night along with our long journey around the mountains. We were also getting impatient with the stares we were receiving.
I snapped.
Raising my sunglasses, I shot them the hardest glare I can muster as I gestured, "What?!?"
The result: for the entire ride, they carefully averted their eyes from us.
It was a rare occasion for us, and we were enthusiastic that we finally discovered a little trick to assert a bit of our space.
It is certainly a challenge to be a white female foreigner in India. I admire those who roam across India with perhaps more patience and better strategies than I have.
However, I am also proud by how far Violet and I had gone in our journey: we have been to places unknown to many tourists, we have been riding on trains with so many individuals who tested our patience and who taught us tolerance, and especially that we are now surviving food poisoning in a country that will forever be a place to remember and to tell tales about.
India is a place to see and to experience.
Well, that's it, folks. Tales will continue on as Violet and I fly to Bangkok, Thailand to head Far East.
See you in Thailand!
Blessed in Thamel, Kathmandu, Nepal
*Note: I was told it will continue on in Southeast Asia, so it's definitely not an Indian thing. Furthermore, based on my experiences last year while backpacking across Eastern Europe with one of my best friends, who's Black, Europeans do gawk at those who don't appear European-like. Theory: the less racially diverse a nation is, the larger number of gawkers exist. Any contribution/debate to this theory pertaining to the existence of gawkers are eagerly welcomed.
**That's just a nickname based on her appearance. No time to get friendly with her. We have Tobacco, Long Beard, and other nicknames for memorable strangers and acquaintances we've encountered. No intention to provoke anyone. It's just easier to remember them when we have something to describe them.
