Liberating, Invigorating, Beautiful

We stayed in a hotel the first few nights in Jaipur to get somewhat accustomed to the city, if that’s even possible in two days. Early the next morning some of us went to a park next to our hotel and did some yoga. A group of older men who were walking around the park, stopped to chat with us. They saw Anne (a true yogi J) doing a handstand and wanted to see her do it again. Somewhat weirded out, Anne did as they wished. One of the men, resembling a mix of Elmer Fudd Indian style and a happy Buddha, wanted to ‘try’ the headstand. I could tell all of us were pretty skeptical since he had a total Chinese Buddha belly and do you think Elmer Fudd can do a headstand? So he placed his head down to the dewy grass and slowly but surely curled his legs so it looked as if he were in an upside-down fetal position. And by god he was doing a headstand! He was kicking his legs back and forth like it was nothing. He fooled us all. He had the meaning of balance down pat with no hesitation. As we chatted more and got to know these crazy, funny, and friendly men they invited us to meet them tomorrow morning. “You come tomorrow. We show you some exercises and you show us some exercises.” Deal.

The next morning arrived. 7a.m. was early but we did it. Asha, Anne and I stretched a bit hoping that we hadn’t been ‘stood up.’ But soon enough we saw our new friends. We went over to a different section of the park and about 12 other men joined us as we made a big circle. They all asked us our names and we began by following the ‘leader’ of the exercises. Hold the arms out in front, move the wrists, up, down, up, down, 16 times. Now head, up, down, up down, 16 times. “1, 2 cha cha cha. 1, 2 cha cha cha.” And so it went. Our ‘exercise group’ became quite the spectacle in the park. People definitely stared and I guess I didn’t blame them. I mean really… 7a.m., 3 western looking girls standing in a dilapidated circle with a bunch of middle-aged Indian men…some of who were for sure balding and who barely spoke English. The language barrier was very very apparent. I felt like a little kid participating in simon says where the 12 simons were totally making fun of us numerous times. But it was all in good fun and we all loved it. It was a bunch of silly movements with everyone grinning from ear to ear.

I was told to repeat something in Hindi to the leader of our exercise…well…ok…I guess I’ll do it. So I said whatever gibberish the sentence sounded like and all the men began laughing. Then he explained: “You said ‘you are beautiful’ to him,” as he pointed to the leader.

“HAHAHAHAHA!” O dear.

And all of a sudden us girls were surrounded with a chorus of, “Ho ho hahaha. Ho ho hahaha!” And they all began jumping in and out with their feet and clapping to the beat. “Ho ho hahaha, ho ho hahaha, ho ho haha!”

We had been introduced to our first session of laugh yoga. I guess I had the honor of starting it all out with the first ‘joke’ of the morning. It was liberating. It was invigorating. It was beautiful. We didn’t have to speak the same language to understand the meaning of a wonderful time. And sooner than we knew we were truly laughing while bouncing, clapping and grinning. And to end the session we raised our hands as in a triumphant ‘I just won the Olympics!” admired the blaring Indian sun with our heads tilted back and did a long-lasting laugh. I like laugh yoga. I like it a lot. 

Canada?

Well, so much for the reading packet. I lied there is one boy in our small group of 11 pseudo-Indians. But alas he fits right into the little colony of Americans. I have been here approximately a week and two days, but in all honesty it feels like it’s been a month. And I think I’m comfortable in saying that that’s a good thing, the feeling I mean. So much has happened since I stepped off the plane into the ganja/dust-filled Indian air. I guess I’ll try to pick out a few things to say and comment on so this blog biz doesn’t get too long and boring.

I say India! You say…Young Women’s Christian Association? Leave it to the American program to find the YWCA, in a country where 82% is Hindi, 12% is Muslim and finally a whoping 2% is Christian (hey who said this blog can’t be a little educational? the rest is other). This is where we ended up staying for our first two nights in Delhi before traveling to what would be our home for the next 2 months, Jaipur. It was a decent place, nothing special or extraordinary. Next to our beloved YWCA, where you could enroll in ‘soft toy stuffing,’ and ‘gift wrapping,’ classes among other assortments of random activities, was a Sikh temple. For those of you who may not know a Sikhism is a religion, look it up it’s pretty cool. It was absolutely beautiful. Anywho… I felt like such a tourist. We’re supposed to take our shoes off? Where? Will a boy steal them like in the movies I’ve seen? Is this all some sort of scam to take my shoes? Finally a guy saw our wandering selves (Gretchen, Claire and Anne) looking confused and led us to a place where we could place our shoes. We dipped our feet in the water before entering. Apparently this is supposed to help keep the temple ‘clean’ and to respect the religion. However, after hearing about 10,000 people visit that temple every day meaning 20,000 dusty, cracked, and probably some putrid feet have been ‘dipped’ in that water did nothing to comfort me. But it’s India right? So dipped I did. And the dipping was totally worth it.

The temple was so beautiful and serene. The walls and floor were made of white marble, swirled with silver-gray. I truly did feel at peace.

As we were gazing and strolling an old man squatting on a rolled up shredded red carpet motioned for us to come over. “Where are you from,” he asked. Having previous bad experiences with being known as an American from Euro-trip experiences, I said, “Canadian.”

“Ooooo Canada is nice place,” he said.

“Yep, yep. Sure is.” And we continued walking in the peaceful Indian air night. We rounded the large pool of water that centered the temple and saw the self-claimed ‘night watchmen,’ with our friend Anne but this time he was pointing at us.

“Cheater! Cheater! You are a cheater,” he exclaimed. Confused, we walked up the steps toward Anne. “You from America, not Canada. You cheater.” Anne spilled the beans. “Cheater, cheater, cheater.”

“I am from Canada. My friends are from America, but not me. I am from Canada.” I continued to persist that I was NOT lying in order to save my dignity (if I had any at that point). After much denial of my ‘American-hood,’ I gave in. My lie, that didn’t even matter (because- hey! people actually like Americans here), was foiled. Embarrassment for my lie and myself caught on, and my comfort and serenity in the temple quickly left my body. Welcome to India.

Another day in Delhi and we were off to Jaipur, the ‘Pink City.’ The population is about 2.5 million compared to Delhi’s 13 million. Jaipur is called the Pink City because good ole king Maharaja Ram Singh back in 1867 ordered the city to be painted pink to welcome the Prince of Wales as pink is a color of hospitality. The 5-hour car ride wasn’t too bad with frequent stops and lots of observing. The program directors had us stop at McDonald’s to eat where the menu is significantly different than America, in a good way I think. As you could guess…the idea of beef does not go over well here. I had a tasty veggie burger, quite yummy. I think they should add it to the American menu. As we passed the golden array of mustard and lentil fields swaying in the dusty, hot air, I had plenty of time to anticipate what my host family would be like.

हवाई-जहाज़ (aka Plane...I think)

Somehow I managed to pack what my life should/would consist of for 4 months. I found it is very easy to become crabby and frustrated trying to determine the fate of one’s fashion and hygiene for 4 of months unknown circumstances. Luckily my lifesaver roommate had a bag that was bigger than the one I was planning to take. So I was able to use that. However, it did nothing to help me lower my packing material because when I reached the airport to check my massive bag I found that it was 7lbs over. Fabulous. This then put me in the position of moving items to my carry on which was pretty plum full already, calling my boyfriend Andy to drive back to the airport and ditch some items or pay a grand $50.  And $50 it was. I better not regret bringing anything.

This should last me 4 months...NOT!

3hrs and 30 minutes, 2093 miles to my destination: Delhi, India. I’ve traveled 5655 miles so far, and not going to lie it seemed to go by pretty fast. Sleep sleep and more sleep. I’m totally OK with that. I had planned to read the homework packet, supposedly 30 hrs of reading, that was given to me to get it over with since I neglected it over my break, but I failed miserably at that. Oops.

I met the girls who are in my program on our flight from Newark to Delhi. No boys going to India, I’m also totally OK with that. I think we’ll get along just fine. It’s weird to think they’ll become some of my best friends in the next few months and I barely know them.

August 15^th. For those of you who are smart, you would know that this gracious day is the day I graced you all with my wonderful presence, a.k.a the day I was born. August 15^th is also India’s independence day. Ironic eh?

While waiting at the gate to go to Delhi a little Indian boy started to play with us. He was so cute, and his smile was from ear to ear. He gave me a salty chip as some sort of gift, and when I told him I liked his shirt that said, “Roasted Marshmallows,” and had a little marshmallow man on it with flames on his head, the little boy got pretty defensive. I’m pretty sure he thought I wanted him to give that to me too. That was the end of our 5-minute friendship.

As soon as the words, “We will now begin boarding our Elite Class (First Class),” absolutely everyone herded to the front. No line was formed and everyone squished as close to the front as possible. The attendant had to yell for everyone to step back like they were the crazy shopping ladies who want that $299, 50’in HD TV on Black Friday. Either everyone was really excited to get on the 14hr plane ride and sit really close to complete strangers, or that’s just what Indians do. I’m going to go with the second guess, mad chaos.

There is no toilet paper in the bathroom and no tampons are sold. 4 months of showering out of a bucket, and only eating food where I can see steam rising. Mentally preparing for this journey is damn near impossible. Especially when you’ve had about 5 phone calls in the past months with your estranged birth father and his wife, in hopes of meeting a family you’ve never met. I know I have to try, and yet I have not a clue exactly why. An epic change in my life? To fill the gap of a ‘family’ I never knew? To learn more about India? Maybe all, maybe none. Am I expecting to find solace in who I am, or just doing this to make more craziness in my life?

Only a few more hours until I begin some sort of journey, of which the outcome is totally unknown. Maybe I should start reading that packet…