I swear, there was someone powerful trying to keep her from arriving! It had nothing to do with the volcanic eruption, because she was flying from Chicago to Abu Dhabi. However, I think maybe some of the backlog from these flights effected all of the major international airports in this part of the world. She was supposed to arrive at 4am, but was delayed for 8 hours in Chicago (she probably wished she could have stayed in Grinnell a few more hours), then was delayed in both Abu Dhabi and Mumbai because neither airport knew that the connecting flight was delayed. So she was cow-herded with about thirty others. She says she made lots of friends, and if any of you know her, this comes as no surprise.
So she finally arrived at 8pm on Saturday, and Insha and I had been waiting at the airport for a few hours. We got her a room in my hostel (pulled a few strings and payed only Rs. 500/-).
Unfortunately, she didn’t get much rest, because we planned on resting all day Saturday, and shopping for some Punjabi sets on Sunday. But because of the delays, we only had Sunday to rest and shop…so she was a tired girl.
She was so funny—her first meal was just some lo mein, which she loved very much (the student canteen has the best lo mein I’ve ever had in my life). But the next day, after shopping, we grabbed some rice and dal for us. It is a really basic dish. It’s considered the soul food of India, and it’s by far my favorite thing I’ve had here. But Momma thought it was too spicy, and she wasn’t quite ready to eat with her hands. She gave Insha such a funny look when he asked her if she wanted to learn how—“Yea…right.”
She is really having to quickly adjust. I didn’t realize how much I’d gotten used to until she pointed so many things out. Things like “No one says please around here,” or “There’s so much trash and dirt—where does it go? Or does it go anywhere?” or “You were right, make-up is worthless in this heat.” She is also convinced that traffic is a perpetual game of chicken, which isn’t too far from the truth.
Make-up received a good chuckle, but as for please and the dirt/trash issue, I had to do some explaining.
Please is an implied notion in many languages here. There is actually no word for “please” in Hindi. There are requests (+iye) and demands (+o), and so please is sort of implied. So the difference between “Will you please come?” and “Let’s go” is “Aaiye” and “Aao.”
Trash…is something that I’ve overlooked, but by no means have I gotten used to it. It reeks when it’s burned, and it’s everywhere. And in the heat it’s worse. And I couldn’t really explain it to her. All I can say is that plastics were popularized in this country only 30 or so years ago. Before that, everything was wrapped in a banana leaf or poured into a dried clay cup, so your leftovers could just be tossed out the window. And that habit was a hard one to break. There are few trash cans, and the ones that are available fill up quickly.
Dirt—the whole damn city is under construction. They build everything out of iron rods and pack cement around it, leaving leftovers in the front of the building. It will get used soon, or just moved around. But clipped front lawns and pretty exteriors aren’t really an important part of this culture, compared to America. There’s a learned notion of “putting on your Sunday best” that is very appealing about America to Americans. But as my mother soon learned, the priorities that are placed in front of front lawns are things like family tea time had on the floor with cushions.
Off to Kerala next!
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