(From February 14)
A whirlwind of a weekend comes to a close, after fresh
air for the first time in a month, a lonesome venture into the city center, and
a freaking amazing ice cream sandwich.
I woke up around 6 AM yesterday morning to scarf down a
quick breakfast (my first real meal since Wednesday!!!) before meeting up with
companions at a nearby homestay. The five of us had all forgone a weekend at a
Portuguese beach colony (aka pre-Brazil) and a luxurious spa day in order to
trek into Polo Forest, a gorgeous nature reserve about two and a half hours
away from Ahmedabad.
We piled into the van to start our adventure, but only
ten minutes in, one of the girls frantically demanded we pull over. As soon as
the quite confused driver slowed the car to the edge of the freeway, she opened
the door and began vomiting.
Yikes.
I mean, it made me feel a little bit better about my
previous illness—at least I could be moderately sure it wasn’t typhoid and that
it was instead some stomach bug that is making its way through our group. And
while I would have immediately pleaded out of the trip and opted for a day in
bed being pampered on, my friend soldiered on and demanded we continue driving.
You do you, girlfriend.
I settled into the long drive comfortably. I personally
really love transit. I crave the freedom of being transported from one place to
the next, my only worry being whether I want to read or listen to music or nap.
That’s why plane rides are, like, the best;* you’re literally not expected to
do anything but sit there and chill.
(*quick note, plane rides are only the best if they’re
headed towards California.)
About an hour into the journey, one of our company became
enthralled by some massive rock formation on the side of the road. “I’m gonna
climb it,” she exclaimed suddenly and motioned for the driver to pull over,
once again.
I took one look at the giant mountain with zero
footholds, no vegetation, and blaringly obvious unsafety, and quickly decided
it wasn’t my cup of tea.
Instead, I took the time to make friends with the cutest
freaking puppy (probs six months old at the very most) on the side of the road.
It looked like a legit teddy bear, and I coaxed it enough over the next twenty
or so minutes to allow me to pet it. #heaven.
I attracted quite the crowd with my compassion towards a
random stray. It’s difficult to discern whether it was more shocking to see a
white person or just an individual choosing to interact with an animal beyond
kicking it, but either way, about fifteen villagers gathered around me and the
puppy, enthralled by my affection.
What I didn’t notice
in my blissful state of canine lovin’ was the other crowd gathering on the side
of the road staring up at the mountain up which my friend continued to clamber.
It wasn’t until another of the girls
frantically ran up to me, telling me that the villagers were angry about the
rock climber’s blatant disregard for safety and that our driver was demanding she return, that I looked
around at the scene we were causing.
At least fifty people had lined up on the street to watch
her ascent, while cars were literally stopping in the middle of the freeway to
stare at the commotion. Our presence was causing an actual traffic jam. We quickly
scrambled into the car in order to call the girl’s cell phone and demand she
come back down. Other individuals had begun to get more curious about us (and
slightly more aggressive) and were beginning to crowd around us and our car, at
times reaching for the door handles and staring into the windows with their
noses at the glass. I felt like a zoo animal.
It was uncomfortable, hectic, and kind of scary. One guy
apparently pantomimed the snarl of a tiger, indicating that tigers were on the
mountain (which turned out to be completely, one hundred percent false, but
what do we know), and our driver was getting antsy, and we could no longer see
my friend.
Basically, long story short, we got her off the mountain
after about an hour, and were back on the road with little incident. It was an
~exciting~ morning to start off our day.
We got to the Polo Forest, excited to finally begin our
foray into the great outdoors. Simply being around green, and trees, and water
instilled in me a peace for which I’d been searching for weeks. Finally—I was
back where I belonged (kind of).
Along our hour-long hike, we were treated to views of dry
deciduous forest, which reminded me so much of home that it was happily
disconcerting. At one point, we even came across a valley with rocky drops and
shrubby trees that looked almost identical to my backyard. We got to swing on
the hanging roots of a gigantic banyan tree, venture into abandoned, ruined
temples, and catch breathtaking views of uninterrupted, seemingly endless hills.
It was everything I’d needed after weeks of city life.
My delight began to dissipate literally the second we
stepped back onto a main road for a singular reason. A tiny little puppy,
probably less than three months old, had wandered into the street, probably
looking for food, considering its ribs were sticking out. A shrill honk sent it
scampering back to the side, but one random imbecile couldn’t seem to help but
throw a stone at the retreating dog anyway.
I think I saw red.
BUT instead of beating up the man (which I would have
gladly done), I took a deep breath and moved tentatively towards the tiny
canine. I got on all fours, murmuring sweet nothings, and slowly reached out my
knuckles to allow it a sniff.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget its posture or expression.
It stood there, tail tucked between its bony little legs,
hunched out of perpetual fear, looking at me with the expectation of cruelty.
I know, I know, I’m in a country and a city in which I
see people—human beings—in abject
poverty and abhorrent conditions every day. I promise that I get upset about
it, and I am going to be dedicating my life and career to improving the
conditions of the world’s people. However, there is simply something about
animals, especially dogs, that pierces directly to my heart every single time.
I sat there for a few moments, registering its emotions
and the potential of getting viciously attacked by a dog, then reached my hand
closer to its nose. After a few moments of stillness, it seemed to slowly
realize that I wasn’t looking to hurt it. I cautiously began to pet its back,
its head, and its ears. I sat with it for maybe one or two minutes, while most
of my party continued on (bye, guys). After I stood up and brushed off my
leggings, the puppy did something that cheered me more than any hike or fresh
air ever could—it wagged its tail.
If you’re not an animal lover, or at least an animal
liker, that story probably bored you enough to the point where you’re only
skimming. I mean, hey, to each his or her own, unless its animal cruelty, then
cut it out. Actually, animal mistreatment seems to be a really big problem in
this place, for reasons that I don’t feel quite qualified nor uncensored enough
to elaborate on at the moment, but I actually just wrote a paper on it for one
of my classes that I may or may not post here later on. We’ll see if you get
lucky.
We got back to the main grounds and climbed back into the
car around 3 PM for what we thought would be a short three hour ride back to
Ahmedabad.
Ha. Ha. Wrong.
We’d told our driver we were interested in seeing one
final temple on our way home, but he apparently did not quite catch which temple… So we ended up in a
completely random town at a completely random (albeit cool-looking temple)
around 5 PM, and it then took us six (SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) hours
to get home.
Did you read that????? SIX. HOURS. After two hours
already!!!!!!!!!! Literally, we could have driven from Southern California to
San Francisco in that amount of time. Instead, we were on a bumpy, curvy road
(really great for my stomach, which started to act up again, and for my friend,
laying in the front seat looking like she was going to die) with a driver that
honked more often than not. He’d honk when he was in front of a car, or behind
a car, or sometimes when there was no car at all. I started getting pretty
pissy about it around 10 PM going on the seventh hour. Hope you don’t blame me
for that one.
My host mom was worried sick, considering I’d told her
I’d get home at 8 PM and I had no way of letting her know that I was going to
be three (!!!!!!!!!!!) hours later than I’d thought—both because I had no
minutes on my phone and because even if I could reach her, I couldn’t
communicate with her. Super awesome situation.
I slept it off though, getting to go to bed without an
alarm for the first time in three weeks. Praise to the Lord for that one, man.
I was feeling a little down (read: dejectedly depressed)
today. I mean, my roommate is gone for the weekend, so I’m stuck in a home with
no English speakers, no WiFi to check for any nearby spots to hang out, no
phone numbers of any friends in town, and an explicit command to not go
anywhere alone because of dangers. I was laying in my bed in despair, looking
through photos of my family and—I’ll admit it—crying.
My parents rock though, and while Mom was virtually
consoling me, my dad messaged me a place close by that he’d Google Mapped that
looked interesting. So, I dried my tears and set out on an adventure, flouting
the rule on travelling in pairs.
I arrived in a random city square with no English signs and
lots of stares, but I took it in stride and began to wander the streets. At one
point, I saw an elephant in the middle of the street and mesmerized, I began to
wander towards it. That auspicious omen ended up leading me to a cyber café,
where I was able to use the sweet, sweet internet for a full hour for the cheap
enough price of 20 rupees—aka 30 cents.
I’ll take it.
My mini connection with the outside world (Scalia died?
My friend updated her profile picture? The PSK/Sab dinner actually happened without
my presence???) refreshed me and rejuvenated me. I noticed, however, that I
didn’t feel any extreme compulsion to
post or look at or like anything. I just wanted to message my best friends, and
check my email for videos that my mom had promised to send, and laugh at
updated comments on my world-famous YouTube video. That’s how I know I’m in the
right place. Even though I’m depressed about animal cruelty, and poverty, and
my lack of the super skill of knowing every dialect that the world has to offer,
and even though I miss my friends, and my family, and my dogs (oh my god, my dogs), I don’t feel like I’m missing out. I feel completely content
with my detachment from my normal life. And only like 25% of that is because I
read an article in an Indian newspaper today about the “life-threatening” cold
hitting Boston this Valentine’s Day (literally, it quoted
“life-threatening”!!!!).
That’s not to say I’m completely content and perfectly
living in the moment. It’s just like the metaphor that I shared with a very
dear friend yesterday, that’s pretty good if I say so myself. (This is the last
part of my blog, I promisepromisepromise, please stick with me.)
India is like this really delicious bread basket. (Go
with it.) Like you’re eating this bread and you’re like, wow yeah this is
great.
But you’ve already looked at the menu. And you know that
following this bread basket is an amazing appetizer of caprese salad (Brazil),
and then, after that, a top-grade sirloin steak (South Africa). But after the steak and the caprese (I love me some
caprese) is the most delicious, incredible, mouth-watering ice cream chocolate
cookie milkshake concoction that is made by the best dessert person in the
whole wide world (California, obviously).
And you’re trying so
hard to savor your break and to eat every last crumb, but you’re already
looking forward to your appetizer and your dinner but above all you know you
have to save room for dessert.
So I’m trying to savor every second in India and absorb
every little experience and lick my fingers after I’m done to carry the taste,
but I’m already so excited for my
next adventures and honestly, more than anything, I’m really, really excited to
go home. I love my family and my house and my friends and my dogs (my dooooogs!!) more than anything in the
world—and I’ve seen a fair share of this ol’ place by now, so I can say that
with some confidence.
Anyways. I had more poetic things to ramble on about,
including identity and what it’s like to sit quietly while you’re pretty sure
that everyone around you is talking about you and your digestion in a different
language and the demon that lives outside my window and emerges at 4 AM every
morning, but you’ve listened to me blather for more than long enough, so we can
save those stories for another day.
Thanks for sticking with me. Keep me in your thoughts. And
friends at Harv, please take a Valentine’s Day shot in honor of my pathetic
romantic ventures over the years. (Preferably at either the PSK or Spee, as
those are the most appropriate locations.)
Sending love and kisses this fourteenth of February,
AubStod
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