I meet Sateesh only because I move seats, he talks to me about his culture's tradition. He had a friendly face and spoke proudly of his arranged marriage, belief in only Ayruvedic medicine, truths behind horoscopes, and the Hindu belief system. He excited and inspired me to learn more about his country. The flight was 3.5 hours over the Bay of Bangal. He was the one to tell me, "If you are ready to believe the unbelievables, this is the land!"
Walking off the plane I was pleased to feel the cool temperature of the night. I find my small duffel bag and barely have time to grab it as Indians are pushing me to get to their own bags. I slowly head to the exit. Behind a small gate are hundreds of people waiting to pick up new arrivals. Although in the plane there were a few non-Indians, here it is impossible to spot another white face. I am not looking for a white face, I am now looking for my name. Dozens of men are pushing against the gate holding 11.5 x 13 inch sheets of paper with names written on them. Heat flushes through my face for how close I have to get to read some of the signs. My name is typed in big bold letters and I exhale all worries!
Yogesh does not speak much English, or doesn't want to talk. When I ask if we can make a stop for water he knows enough to say, "there is none on the way." I am so thirsty (damn those airline peanuts and glasses of wine at Teresa's!) I try to sleep this issue away... the ride flashed me back to a memory of my family at Disney Land going on the Indian Jones ride over and over again. The bumps and quick turns seem less amusing now, there will be no sleeping on this ride. The honking on the horn seems to be the trend here in India, every time two cars passed on this packed road two horns would sound. Needless to say, lots of honking.
Besides one quick stop where Yanesh went "to go get a cup of milk"... at what looked like some sort of lemonade stand filled with adults at 2 a.m I felt safe. I stayed in the taxi during this stop and covered my glow in the dark hair as people drifted near the car.
We arrived in Mysore around 3 a.m, and came to a quick stop in the middle of a desolate street. Yogesh hands me the keys and starts to get back in the cab. I panic inside! "I don't know where to go." I tell him and he points to a cattle gate in front of what looks like a house. I walk to the gate and struggle for awhile to open it, praying he doesn't leave until I can figure it out. Finally I get the gate open and walk up the drive way not knowing what the hell I am supposed to do. I walk around and the taxi pulls off. I am in India, alone and outside some house and can't find a door- HOLY SHIT!
After what seems like five minutes (I am sure the count on a clock would have been 60 seconds), I find a door and after fumbling with the keys on the chain I find the one which opens the door. I am in and there is a dog and a note, both very friendly! I find my room and won't even brush my teeth because I am so scared of the bathroom. I want to sleep but I also fear the cleanliness of the sheets. I am so glad I brought my own! I am paying $30 a night to stay at this spot, and all I can do is fear the room I am renting for $140 for the month. I lay my sheet on the bed and use my towel as my pillow. Fully dressed I fall in and out of a bizarre sleep.
The next morning I awake to the sounds of breakfast being made outside my window. "Alia's Om Cafe and Guesthouse" has begun serving breakfast. Five Indian men are in the kitchen, I ask for the two owners but they are not here yet. I decide to take a walk.
I exit the dreaded gate with minimal trouble. I walk down the street and smile as I see two cows in the middle of the road and a few goats eating grass around a coconut stand. I turn, fearing that at any moment I will see one of those guys playing a flute with a cobra in a basket. Richshaws blazing by me. Bikes everywhere, and ten motorcycles to every one car. Horn festival might as well of been going on... for a few moments I could not tell if cars had a particular side of the road they were legally bound to. Two kids asked if I had a country coin for them. I have never felt so aware of my skin and hair color, I stood out real bad. Where are all the yogis who have come to study? When I returned to Alia's I found them, and the owner. Everyone was very friendly.
More stories to come, no pictures yet.
Walking off the plane I was pleased to feel the cool temperature of the night. I find my small duffel bag and barely have time to grab it as Indians are pushing me to get to their own bags. I slowly head to the exit. Behind a small gate are hundreds of people waiting to pick up new arrivals. Although in the plane there were a few non-Indians, here it is impossible to spot another white face. I am not looking for a white face, I am now looking for my name. Dozens of men are pushing against the gate holding 11.5 x 13 inch sheets of paper with names written on them. Heat flushes through my face for how close I have to get to read some of the signs. My name is typed in big bold letters and I exhale all worries!
Yogesh does not speak much English, or doesn't want to talk. When I ask if we can make a stop for water he knows enough to say, "there is none on the way." I am so thirsty (damn those airline peanuts and glasses of wine at Teresa's!) I try to sleep this issue away... the ride flashed me back to a memory of my family at Disney Land going on the Indian Jones ride over and over again. The bumps and quick turns seem less amusing now, there will be no sleeping on this ride. The honking on the horn seems to be the trend here in India, every time two cars passed on this packed road two horns would sound. Needless to say, lots of honking.
Besides one quick stop where Yanesh went "to go get a cup of milk"... at what looked like some sort of lemonade stand filled with adults at 2 a.m I felt safe. I stayed in the taxi during this stop and covered my glow in the dark hair as people drifted near the car.
We arrived in Mysore around 3 a.m, and came to a quick stop in the middle of a desolate street. Yogesh hands me the keys and starts to get back in the cab. I panic inside! "I don't know where to go." I tell him and he points to a cattle gate in front of what looks like a house. I walk to the gate and struggle for awhile to open it, praying he doesn't leave until I can figure it out. Finally I get the gate open and walk up the drive way not knowing what the hell I am supposed to do. I walk around and the taxi pulls off. I am in India, alone and outside some house and can't find a door- HOLY SHIT!
After what seems like five minutes (I am sure the count on a clock would have been 60 seconds), I find a door and after fumbling with the keys on the chain I find the one which opens the door. I am in and there is a dog and a note, both very friendly! I find my room and won't even brush my teeth because I am so scared of the bathroom. I want to sleep but I also fear the cleanliness of the sheets. I am so glad I brought my own! I am paying $30 a night to stay at this spot, and all I can do is fear the room I am renting for $140 for the month. I lay my sheet on the bed and use my towel as my pillow. Fully dressed I fall in and out of a bizarre sleep.
The next morning I awake to the sounds of breakfast being made outside my window. "Alia's Om Cafe and Guesthouse" has begun serving breakfast. Five Indian men are in the kitchen, I ask for the two owners but they are not here yet. I decide to take a walk.
I exit the dreaded gate with minimal trouble. I walk down the street and smile as I see two cows in the middle of the road and a few goats eating grass around a coconut stand. I turn, fearing that at any moment I will see one of those guys playing a flute with a cobra in a basket. Richshaws blazing by me. Bikes everywhere, and ten motorcycles to every one car. Horn festival might as well of been going on... for a few moments I could not tell if cars had a particular side of the road they were legally bound to. Two kids asked if I had a country coin for them. I have never felt so aware of my skin and hair color, I stood out real bad. Where are all the yogis who have come to study? When I returned to Alia's I found them, and the owner. Everyone was very friendly.
More stories to come, no pictures yet.
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