11.12.12

November 12, 2012

A long day of flying

Today is the day I have been waiting for for a long time.  Six months to be exact.  My first leg of my long journey to New Delhi, India has just departed.  I first fly to Paris, so I'm surrounded by a bunch of Frenchies, or Frogs, if you will.  I hope none of them can read this from where they are sitting, they are a rubber-necking bunch, you know.  So why am I here?  How did I get here?  Where am I, anyway?  Sitting on American Airlines flight number 6662, drinking Canada Dry's Ginger Ale and eating a Gourmet Snack Mix consisting of pretzels, cause that's what airplanes are for.

It is interesting, to say the least to know how I got here.  It all started earlier this year actually, when I was looking for a spring trip.  Greece had crossed my mind.  So had Turkey, where I have an old Finnish friend that I met while in Munich.  If you caught onto the disdain in my previous words about the French, you would be surprised to know that I had even contemplated spending a few weeks in the French countryside on a working vacation, refurbishing an old manor in the south.  Not having any friends back home who are open/available to travel, I sent out an APB to my friends across the world.  Not that there are so many, but it seemed to work.  A nanny I had also met during my short stint in Munich, Brooke, informed me she would be visiting India for the third time in April.  After hearing that I was actually somewhat interested, she actually tried talking me out of it by saying that some people say India stands for (I)'d (N)ever (D)o (I)t (A)gain.  I think her main worry was that I wouldn't like it and she might feel somewhat responsible for the invitation.  But I knew that no matter where I went, even if I didn't particularly love where I was that I would still be able to appreciate the experience.  So after reading countless blogs and forums on India, most notably on www.IndiaMike.com, I decided it was for me.  All of the stories of poverty, smells, dirt, trash and chaos couldn't change my mind, I was set to go.  I had not previously entertained the idea of visiting India much before.  I kind of assumed I would get there one day, but it most certainly wasn't at the top of my list.  Yet here I am.

With only a few weeks to plan, it seemed a rush for such a big trip. I tend to really enjoy my time planning, even though I keep my schedule pretty loose.  I just love the anticipation.  Not doing the trip justice, I will keep it short and sweet and say that I had a fabulous time.  A week with Brooke and Ricky in the south, then two weeks up north roaming alone.  I decided that all of the experiences I endured and challenges that I faced were mostly out of my control.  But how I reacted to them and how I decided to feel about them was completely in my control.  I believe the same can be said for life in general.  And a lot of how I felt in India had to do with expectations.  I had decided that India was going to be the poorest, dirtiest, smelliest, most disgusting, most uncomfortable and hottest country in the world.  Yet even with these expectations I was compelled to go to this far away land I knew nothing about.  So upon arriving, when I didn't actually die from the heat and I realized that people are people wherever you go, everything was so high above my expectations that I felt as if I were in Heaven.  On the contrary, had I expected to travel in a lap of luxury with a standard of cleanliness like that of my home country, and had I expected people to respect my culturally large personal space bubble, I would have been sorely mistaken and most likely would have gotten on the next flight back to America.  So there you go.  Expect the worst, and what ever comes after that will only be a pleasant surprise. I realize that may seem a bit pessimistic, but I swear it's not.  It's a coping mechanism, rather, as obviously I was freely and of my own will traveling half way around the world for this experience.

I came home, moved out of the house that I loved and canceled my lease, gave my dad six month notice at work (ample, i think) and the rest is history.  I'm not sure I can tell you why.  I'm not sure I know why.  Other than that I am compelled.  What more do I need?  Even after being asked approximately 88,000 times over the past six months, I have yet to come up with a good answer.  At least an answer that is acceptable to others.  I have the usual lines.  "I am going to explore."  Or, "it's cheap to live and I need something new."  Sure those things are true but those things alone most likely aren't why I am going.  When I find out I'll let you know.  But maybe it has something to do with how I felt when I was there.  Other than the dehydration, constant itching from mosquito bites, debilitating heat and a general feeling of wanting to die (and the one memorable time I almost shit in a plant in a hallway), I felt peaceful.  Even in the midst of chaos and the constant assault on the senses, I felt calm.  

Last night while sitting by my Aunt Loni's pool in Cape Coral, FL, I reread my entire travel journal from start to finish from that trip.  I laughed out loud so hard at times; somehow I had already forgotten all of the hilarious things that went on.  The confusions, the incongruities and the most interesting characters that I met.  I can only hope that the next year of my life continues to be a challenging, rewarding and exciting adventure!

One mindset that I took with me on my previous encounter with India was to be open to the experience, and within reason, never say "no."  It worked out well so I am going to carry that with me this time around.  I am making an oath to myself to keep an open mind and an open heart.  How else could one travel, anyway?