India

“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.”
– Martin Buber

A four day wedding and a little journey across northern India, that’s all. That’s what I thought before I left.

I knew challenges might accompany me on that journey, but those were largely my thoughts as I embarked on that trip. You might say that they were the underthoughts of the year.

But what does it mean to say that an upcoming trip might be challenging, anyway? You can expect challenges and know they’re coming. You can read blog entries and advice and prepare for the challenges. But you’ll never know exactly what challenges will materialize and how you’ll feel when they materialize until you arrive.

For the most part, I put myself in a position to experience India on a basic level. Because of this, and even more so because I was a solo female traveler, there was no filtering anything. India laid it all out for me — filthy accommodations, excessive staring, frustrating gender dynamics, and close-minded ideas about skin color. Once I arrived, the idea of a comfort zone became this elusive thing; something that couldn’t necessarily be reestablished by holing up in a hotel room.

Of course there were the highlights like the trip’s impetus — the vibrant and elaborate four day wedding I attended in Kolkata. After attending that wedding, it’s pretty clear that as far as traditions, decoration, and attire go, an Indian wedding can only be topped by an Indian wedding. I’m now a believer in multiple day weddings. After one day you’re just getting started, but after a few, it feels like a complete well-rounded event.

And there were the beautiful sites like the Amber Fort in Jaipur, the Taj Mahal, and the Jama Masjid that left me in awe of creativity and craftsmanship. There were a few surprises like the Jantar Mantar and the Victoria Memorial. There were the everyday views of cities captured in the early morning or from cars or rickshaws.

A wedding and sightseeing were the things I went to do and see. But of course, my trip had other destinations waiting for me. Most of these unexpected sights were internal.

I’m a strong traveler. I go solo. I go budget. I go almost anywhere. But India had a way of stripping me of this sturdy identity and leaving me feeling incredibly vulnerable. “So you think you’re tough?” it asked me with its daily frustrations and the way it disoriented me by hyper-engaging all of my senses simultaneously.

I was in India for a short time and it wasn’t long enough to reach a point of reconciliation. But it did come eventually.

“I am not an adventurer by choice but by fate.”
– Vincent van Gogh

It was after traveling to India that I knew with absolute certainty that cultural exploration is for me. It just feels right. If you’ve ready my About the Author section, you might argue that I’ve known that for awhile. But no place I’ve previously visited has tested me quite like India. And still my wanderlust is untainted, maybe even enhanced. It goes back to the sleepy, “even when I hate this, I love this,” rumination on my flight to India. It also goes back to other travelers’ sentiments that, “If you can travel in India, you can travel anywhere.” I feel even more ready for the world after visiting India.

Destinations can be like people whose friendship is questionable. They might stab you repeatedly in the front and in the back. But over time, you appreciate their presence in your life.

They’ve driven you crazy and tricked you; they’ve challenged you and poked and prodded your seemingly fragile core. But in the end, because of them, you can gleefully, powerfully, and irrevocably say, “Yes, I do have mountains of inner strength.”

If the countries I’ve visited were people, India would undoubtedly be my foe. And yet I am still damn glad to have met her.

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Hindu Chanting + Reggae

Years ago, I stumbled upon this song when this video was played on a short-lived world music channel. I was intrigued by the chanting at the beginning, but when the singer opened his mouth, I’m pretty sure my own mouth dropped open.

There were so many things about the artist that perplexed me: his stage name “Apache Indian”, his demeanor, his Hindu-Rasta style and lyrics. But still, the music was equal parts catchy and calming; it had the kind of melodies that repeatedly tug and twist your emotions and then smooth them out.

I recently rediscovered the song and it still has the same effect. I wish I’d had in my music collection while I was traveling through India. It might have been the perfect song to instill a bit of inner calm while I maneuvered through the daily chaos.

Hip Hop/Dance + Bhangra

I came to know and love bhangra music’s natural ability to fuse with other genres when I first attended a monthly event called Nonstop Bhangra here in San Francisco. For me, a large part of the festiveness of the event is the cultural diversity and connectivity that ensues when everyone dances in whatever style they choose to music that combines many styles. I have yet to hear this bhangra-infused remix of The Power by Snap! at a NonStop bhangra event, but it encapsulates the same sort of cultural fusion on an even quirkier level.

The original version of The Power takes me back to the days of wearing two different colored pairs of socks at once, pegged jeans, and the Running Man. It’s pretty damn catchy in its original form, but mixing in bhangra vocals and instruments actually makes me want to dance to it even more.

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India didn’t just let me go home with ease. A formidable and unpredictable trip doesn’t suddenly become simple because its almost over. That wouldn’t make sense.

To be fair, the last barrier to leaving was not another challenge India presented, it was England’s snowy weather. Much of Europe was frozen over and it was causing delays around the world.

A Pleasant Last Day

I had a 3:30am flight so it hadn’t seemed logical to book another night at my hotel. The hotel lobby looked fairly comfortable and I was planning to head over to the airport a little earlier than I needed to. After my morning auto-rickshaw tour of Delhi, the hotel staff let me keep my room for a few hours beyond check out.

I spent the rest of the daylight hours wandering through the streets of the Karol Bagh neighborhood I was staying in and picking up last minute gifts at the market. I lounged around the hotel’s dining room and lobby at night. They kindly let me watch American sitcoms of my choice (Who knew that Modern Family was so funny?) and use an empty room to change and freshen up before I left for the airport at midnight.

The Airport Frenzy

I arrived at the airport, and aside from the modernity of the space, the chaotic scene wasn’t all that different from what I’d experienced at the train station in Varanasi. The impending delays were palpable.

I reached the British Airways check in counters to see that my flight was delayed by at least three hours. I’ve always found the British Airways staff’s polite, but firm method of dealing with travelers to be pretty efficient. But in this situation, they were clearly having trouble managing the mayhem of India’s more arbitrary queuing style combined with travelers who were all nervous about missing connections at Heathrow and wondering how they were going to spend the next six hours or more.

I joined the ranks of anxiety and waited in a constantly shifting and unmoving line. At times, I wasn’t sure if I was even in a line.

Do You Really Need All That Luggage?

As I stood there, I noticed that the insane amount of luggage people were carting around was adding to the chaos and the indiscernability of the lines. An international community of overpackers was bumping me from all sides with gigantic suitcases and luggage carts piled high, weighed down by stuff. I’ll be honest– my backpack was overstuffed like it usually is, but it was still dwarfed by the luggage around it.

When a British Airways agent moved the ropes to open a new line and picked me to start it, I took it as a small reward for being the most mobile of the bunch with my low maintenance luggage. I have to say that I felt a little smug as I left my position in the back of the “line” and went up to the counter.

I spoke to the airline agent about how I was going to miss my connection in Heathrow. She deflected and neutralized my uneasiness with her calmness, a quick change of my second flight, and an honor of my request for a window seat. I’d assumed I would be stuck in London, but everything was resolved in a matter of minutes.

You Gotta Fight for Your Right to Sleep

Past security, there were waiting areas that had a mix of uncomfortable chairs and slightly more comfortable reclined seating and couches. I snagged one of the few remaining chairs and kept my eyes open for people who were leaving their makeshift beds. Each time someone would get up, someone else would swoop in out of nowhere to claim the bed.

Finally, I saw a family getting up from a little couch that had a footrest pushed up against it. As soon as they began to pick up their bags, I ran over. As I set my stuff down, a middle-aged woman ran over to join me. It was no problem because it was large enough to share, but she immediately started rearranging.

She pulled the footrest away from the couch. The hard pleather seating was already uncomfortable, and she was making it more uncomfortable by leaving a gap between our upper and lower bodies for our midsections to sink into. I was perplexed.

What annoyed me more was that she did it without acknowledging that I was there. When I addressed her, she essentially told me that she didn’t think it was necessary to talk to me about it even though we’d be sharing the space.

Hers was a mentality that had manifested itself in different ways throughout my trip: through the excessive line cutting, through the large groups of young men who almost trampled my group while we waited to get inside the Taj Mahal (a story I have yet to share on here), through the man who’d insisted on sitting on my bed on the train from Varanasi to Agra when he had his own bed to sit on. I was fed up with the daily disregard.

After trying to reason with her about arranging the shared space, her ultimate answer was, “Why should I ask you?”

With her dismissal of me in mind, I stopped talking. I pushed the footrest back against the couch and laid down.

Westward Bound

I wavered in and out of sleep until I heard an urgent announcement that my flight was about to board. It was a hurry-up-and-wait scenario. At the gate, I found out that our flight had yet to arrive and we still had an hour or more before boarding. They gave us sandwiches and chips to appease us while we waited and dozed off as much as one can with regular loud intercom announcements.

I can’t tell you what time we finally left. I was too sleepy to check. But the sun had risen. What I remember most was flying over the strange and beautiful terrain of Afghanistan, a country my country has been occupying for almost ten years. It had previously existed only in the news for me, and just to fly over it was an indescribable feeling.

It was a relief to arrive in London. My next flight was wonderfully empty. I chatted with the man sitting behind me while our flight remained grounded and we waited for more delayed passengers to make it on.

He was Indian, but born and raised in Fiji. He currently lived in the San Francisco Bay Area. It was his first trip to the homeland and he had struggled through the country just as much as I had.

We exchanged stories and I felt slightly relieved when he conceded that he hadn’t enjoyed traveling in India either. Like other travelers, I get caught up in feeling like I have to love everywhere I visit, and that’s just not realistic. At times, I wondered if I was being flexible or understanding enough. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. But regardless, the reality is that there are going to be places that just don’t work for you.

As we began to back away from the gate, it was confirmed that I’d hit the economy seating jackpot. The two seats next to me were going to remain empty for the ten or eleven hour flight.

I arrived at SFO on a Friday evening. Before going back to San Francisco to resume my regular life, I spent the weekend in the comfort of my home-home. And never before has it felt so sweet.

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