Everyone and their sister's boyfriend's cousin's mother-in-law is going to India

This makes me laugh. For all that India represents the farthest possible place from San Jose, absolutely everyone in this city knows someone in India. Or knows someone who knows someone in India, or has talked to business associates on the phone in India, or knows someone whose job is moving to India. Really, going to India is quite normal. Just a hop across the pond. The other pond, I mean.

The great part about everyone and their sister’s boyfriend’s cousin’s mother-in-law going to India is that I now have a contacts list about the size of my church directory. A typical conversation goes like this:

“Oh, you’re going to India! How exciting! You know, my friend _______ lives in ________, so if you have any questions, you should feel free to give them a call. Is Hyderabad near _____?”

“Um, no, actually, its about 300-700 miles away, unfortunately, but I’ll certainly take their contact information just in case!”

“Well, 300 miles…that’s not too unreasonable, is it? Are you going to have any time to travel?”

This is about where the conversation disintegrates into me privately chuckling and politely trying to answer questions about travel that I really know nothing about--yet. All the private chuckling means no insult, because I had no idea how far Hyderabad was from anything before I looked at a map when I decided to go to India. I do, however, love maps. Here’s the basic layout:

I’m in Hyderabad, which is in the south. Picture India is sort of kite-shaped, so that puts me about halfway between the cross-piece and the tip, smack in the center.

It’s then pretty equidistant from Hyderabad to Chennai or Bangalore, which are to the south and make a neat little triangle with Hyderabad. Those are both 300 miles away.

Then you have Mumbai about 400 miles west, Kolkata 750 miles northeast, and New Delhi 750 miles north.

So when I hear about “my friend _____” who does work in Kolkata, I feel a whole combination of “It’s a small world, after all,” sad, and guilty, because as much as I love the fact that everyone is going to India, 750 miles is quite a jog. Very little possiblity I’ll accidentally end up there, as much as I would love to go everywhere.

The fact that 750 miles is a long ways is the straight-up information that comes off of Google maps. I know about 750 miles in a car, I’ve done it. Here comes the part of traveling I know nothing about—only hear-say.

So lets take the example of Bangalore. A mere 300 miles away, about the distance from San Jose down to LA. Hop on I-5 and you are there in about 6 hours. Straight, boring highway with obnoxious semis going 65 mph and obnoxious SUVs tailgating you at 85. Pass a few times and you’re all set, no problem.

Aha. I have, however, been informed about certain travels in India. About curvy, tiny little roads in the middle of nowhere, or a distinct lack of lanes, or sacred cows in the middle of the road that you can’t move once they’ve decided to sit down and take a nap. I have no idea what the road is like from Hyderabad to Bangalore. For all I know, it’s the Indian autoban. I have a sneaking suspicion, however, that instead of I-5 down to LA, driving down to Bangalore is probably more akin to driving down I-5 in LA, which I have never attempted myself, only experienced as a kid. When you are 10, you know just how long it takes to get from “LA” to Disneyland—2 hours for 25 miles, or about the time for you to say “Are we there yet?” about 10 times. If I go down to Bangalore, I will be very zen about this. I will meditate on the cow that is sitting in my way, and marvel at God’s idea to give it four stomachs. I will think about the fact that I wish I had four stomachs to fill with dosas. I will decide that if the cow doesn’t want to move, then I will do as the cows do and sit there too, marvelling at the relative nature of the word, “far.” And then phone my friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s cousin’s mother-in-law and tell her I will be late.

Sometimes it's worth it to eat a bunch of waffles in order to remind yourself how much you like broccoli.

Backpedaling...

...lest you think I'm already in India.

No, for the time being I am still home-sweet-home, making up excuses as to why I'm not getting a job. For starters, no time. Not really, anyway, although in comparison to my usual schedule I am swimming in time. For the first time in the last two years I can say, "I am totally free this whole week, let me fit into your schedule." An amazing freedom in a world run by the Palm Pilot and one I'm not sure I want to give up... Also terrifying to someone who makes strict schedules of every available waking hour (and some sleeping hours too) and eats the same meals at the same times for breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday. After I got back from a SJSU library trip my second day home with a whole reading list, realized that I didn't have to do things like go to the library anymore. Oops--autopilot strikes again.

Autopilot, however, is slowly wearing off. I can read through Salmon Rushdie's Midnight's Children at a leisurely 20 pages a day, savoring the words and the fact that I can read for the pure pleasure of seeing the words flash before my eyes. I am back to my elementary summer employment of making lists of everything that I read that summer, although this time I don't get a prize from the library at the end.

In any case, I decided a long time ago that were I stuck with an awkward month and a half at home, I would attempt to relish it instead of turn out some uber-productive job to convince me that I'm still worthwhile. A lot harder than it looks, but it's worth it before a trip like India to get some things sorted through, and not just the junk and papers I stashed in my drawers before heading to school last summer. I always go through a little culture shock when I fly across the country, so good thing to let that wear off before I fly halfway across the world. I thought I needed a little time to sit around reading Franny and Zooey, and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, letting nine months of intensive study of everything from differential equations to Ayatollah Khomeini to Mozart sink in. As much as I struggle to remind myself the down time is worth it, turns out it is a good idea. How very Zen.

I have no idea how often this blog will be updated. Ideally no less than once a month, but knowing me, it will be weekly. I come from a family of storytellers, unless you didn't know...and I anticipate no lack of stories. Traveling always induces stories.

T minus 3 weeks and counting!

फिर मिलेंगे ! *

* the Hindi in these posts will be pretty shameless, because I am so jazzed to realize that Blogger will do it for me without having to download a font or anything. Now I just have to figure out if I can get Perso-Arabic on here for Urdu. That I really need to practice. To Hindi speakers--I apologize for my spelling. To English speakers--I will try to translate as much as possible, and you can learn with me! अच्छा ?

* फिर मिलेंगे = fir milenge, or "see you later" अच्छा = accha, or "good/Ok?"
quick lesson: कि would be pronounced "ki" like "kill" and की would be pronounced like "kee" as in "key" so if you look at फिर मिलेंगे you would pronounce them the first way.

one MORE thing: why is this called "Little Bird in India" ? Just ask the Japanese-speakers about the meaning of "tori" --that is, "bird." Means nothing in Hindi, that I know of.

why india, anyway?

Here I am, attempting to blog my great adventures in India, as per much request. I still might plague a long list of people with long emails from time to time just to remind them that a) traveller's diarrhea hasn't killed me yet, as they can see on this blog, and b) long emails are much more personal than blogs, and give the receiver the impression that he/she is getting a letter. Since I love mail, I love tricking myself into thinking I'm getting letters.

To start, I figured I would attempt to answer the great, plaguing question of the month, "WHY [on earth] are you going to India?" which I'm not sure I've ever answered properly.

To answer, i would say, "I don't KNOW." Really, I don't. I mean, the pro-con list checked out and all, and the professors and advisors were all for it, but I still don't know. And as one favored prof put it when I went into my knee jerk habit of explaining WHY I was going to study abroad in India, "You don't have to justify [it] to anyone." I liked that answer, if not only to take me off of the hook of trying to come up with a good answer. What better reason do I need to go to India other than the fact that I can take advantage of such an opportunity when it arises?

The best that I can come up with is a list of possible answers. Here goes:

Possible answers: to learn Hindi and Urdu and the other 3 hundred languages spoken in India. to see little figures of Ganesh in the windows and parades in the streets. to talk to people, to ask them questions, to sit with them, and mostly to listen. to study history, and politics, and religion in a place with so much. to buy beautiful saris and salwar kameez at Indian prices. to practice yoga and listen to tiny Indian yogis. to go to the farthest possible place my puny mind can imagine, just so people will ask why. to eat Indian food. I love Indian food. I absolutely love Indian food. to learn how to sing like a Bollywood star and play the tabla. to sit with the poor and the rich, right next door.

For the most part, this list, or any one part of it, can't cover why exactly I'm going. I'd rather not even try to explain, but I do apologize right here for appearing to lie to people when giving more than one answer when you ask, "Why India?" All of the answers are true, although inaccurate representations of my intuition when it says, "Go to India."

So, no, Professor, I am not trying to justify anymore.