(Written a few days back)
"MOOOOM!!!! She's looking at me again!"
I remember a few of these moments on our multiple 7 hours drives to/from Missouri when we lived in Indiana. We would, of course, be reassured that someone looking at us was not really an issue and be told to look the other way (or to stick our noses to the windows, if Mom was really close to the end of her rope.)
Well, today I am taking the train back from Allahabad to Delhi, and the man in the next compartment, diagonal and facing me, keeps looking at me. I'm not sure exactly how much, but any time I happen to look straight ahead or left, he was looking at me. So, make that 60-70% of the first 5 hours of the train ride. Then, I moved to the windowseat so the policeman I was sitting next to could play cards with some of our new friends. God bless window seats.
Speaking of being at the window, train rides officially make me love India more. I love watching cranes hang out on water buffalo, in fields where everything is green, excluding the brightly colored sari and brown skin of some villager. I love watching the mud and hay huts and the people on the paths barely wide enough for motorcyclists that go alongside the train tracks. I love watching Indians run at the train stations as they catch their coaches. I assumed that was just something in the movies, but no, women do hike up their saris a whole inch and slowly jog, stretching out their arms so that the man inside the train car can help pull them up the steps. (I had to do a double take the first 5 times to make sure it was really happening.) Most of all though, I love it when our train stops in the middle of nowhere for 30 minutes or more, and now I watch a kid (whom I can't see) fly a kite. The kite swoops and then balances out, dancing in the sky. I think Americans have missed the fun of kite flying. I mean, I had a Barbie plastic kite once, but I used it maybe twice? The simple, tissue paper-thin kites here though: they're just beautiful. And it's extremely peace-invoking to watch them. I should also say in front of my view of the dancing kite are electrical wires with a wooden cross and string, reminiscent of its former days of a dancing kit.
The OT board exam in Allahabad went well, and I enjoyed the more traditional ways of the city. Like, how people still greet each other with folded hands and "Namaskar." The cyclerickshaws are decorated with gold fringe and are painted/dyed in colorful designs. I walked around the city for 2-3 hours, had a lovely lunch, rewarded my completion of the test with a yummy chocolate doughnut, and then felt like collapsing on my bed in exhaustion. So, goodbye, traveler-me, and hello post-exam, lazy, Bollywood and Julia-Roberts-watching me.
Naturally, because I was ready to go to bed at 7, there had to be a party in the hotel in the huge banquet hall. Naturally, this room was next to mine. I considered joining in on the dancing and cake, but refrained and just enjoyed the sight from the courtyard while being a total creeper.
The Indian people continue to impress me immensely. Right now, I'm sitting with 12 college guys on the lower berths of our train compartment. (Note the compartments are only built for 6.) But, they're all friends, so we make room. When purchasing chai and chips from the people who walk by saying "chhhhai. Shaiii. chhhaaiii" in the world's deepest, most humorous voices, they always buy one for me, too. They offer me the homeade snacks their moms packed (but don't worry, I don't accept--until 15 minutes away from Delhi, when I had some dried, cubed, yak cheese. I don't recommend ever having this rock-solid substance). And they make sure I have one of the best seats. They play guitar and poker, sleep, and apparently attempt to pick the locks on their luggage, as they can't find the keys.
On the way to Allahabad, a guy in his mid-late 20's started talking to me, but even with my story of a husband and a baby at home waiting for me, he remained friendly. When we arrived, he directed me where in the station was best for staying dry in the downpour, then paid my cyclerickshaw-wallah after giving directions to my hotel with instructions to manage my luggage for me. And, then he gave me his number "in case I needed anything." Sweetness, hospitality, and genuine-ness at its best.
I feel quite at peace with my test being over, and I'm ready to go to Ongole, where I intend to love on brown-eyed babies for a long time :) I'm counting down the days!
"MOOOOM!!!! She's looking at me again!"
I remember a few of these moments on our multiple 7 hours drives to/from Missouri when we lived in Indiana. We would, of course, be reassured that someone looking at us was not really an issue and be told to look the other way (or to stick our noses to the windows, if Mom was really close to the end of her rope.)
Well, today I am taking the train back from Allahabad to Delhi, and the man in the next compartment, diagonal and facing me, keeps looking at me. I'm not sure exactly how much, but any time I happen to look straight ahead or left, he was looking at me. So, make that 60-70% of the first 5 hours of the train ride. Then, I moved to the windowseat so the policeman I was sitting next to could play cards with some of our new friends. God bless window seats.
Speaking of being at the window, train rides officially make me love India more. I love watching cranes hang out on water buffalo, in fields where everything is green, excluding the brightly colored sari and brown skin of some villager. I love watching the mud and hay huts and the people on the paths barely wide enough for motorcyclists that go alongside the train tracks. I love watching Indians run at the train stations as they catch their coaches. I assumed that was just something in the movies, but no, women do hike up their saris a whole inch and slowly jog, stretching out their arms so that the man inside the train car can help pull them up the steps. (I had to do a double take the first 5 times to make sure it was really happening.) Most of all though, I love it when our train stops in the middle of nowhere for 30 minutes or more, and now I watch a kid (whom I can't see) fly a kite. The kite swoops and then balances out, dancing in the sky. I think Americans have missed the fun of kite flying. I mean, I had a Barbie plastic kite once, but I used it maybe twice? The simple, tissue paper-thin kites here though: they're just beautiful. And it's extremely peace-invoking to watch them. I should also say in front of my view of the dancing kite are electrical wires with a wooden cross and string, reminiscent of its former days of a dancing kit.
The OT board exam in Allahabad went well, and I enjoyed the more traditional ways of the city. Like, how people still greet each other with folded hands and "Namaskar." The cyclerickshaws are decorated with gold fringe and are painted/dyed in colorful designs. I walked around the city for 2-3 hours, had a lovely lunch, rewarded my completion of the test with a yummy chocolate doughnut, and then felt like collapsing on my bed in exhaustion. So, goodbye, traveler-me, and hello post-exam, lazy, Bollywood and Julia-Roberts-watching me.
Naturally, because I was ready to go to bed at 7, there had to be a party in the hotel in the huge banquet hall. Naturally, this room was next to mine. I considered joining in on the dancing and cake, but refrained and just enjoyed the sight from the courtyard while being a total creeper.
The Indian people continue to impress me immensely. Right now, I'm sitting with 12 college guys on the lower berths of our train compartment. (Note the compartments are only built for 6.) But, they're all friends, so we make room. When purchasing chai and chips from the people who walk by saying "chhhhai. Shaiii. chhhaaiii" in the world's deepest, most humorous voices, they always buy one for me, too. They offer me the homeade snacks their moms packed (but don't worry, I don't accept--until 15 minutes away from Delhi, when I had some dried, cubed, yak cheese. I don't recommend ever having this rock-solid substance). And they make sure I have one of the best seats. They play guitar and poker, sleep, and apparently attempt to pick the locks on their luggage, as they can't find the keys.
On the way to Allahabad, a guy in his mid-late 20's started talking to me, but even with my story of a husband and a baby at home waiting for me, he remained friendly. When we arrived, he directed me where in the station was best for staying dry in the downpour, then paid my cyclerickshaw-wallah after giving directions to my hotel with instructions to manage my luggage for me. And, then he gave me his number "in case I needed anything." Sweetness, hospitality, and genuine-ness at its best.
I feel quite at peace with my test being over, and I'm ready to go to Ongole, where I intend to love on brown-eyed babies for a long time :) I'm counting down the days!
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