Home at Last

Well, I'm home.

Delhi wasn't so bad after all, and thanks to the very kind, very helpful people running AMA Guest House in Majnu ka Tilla, I got to the airport with time to spare. Indian airport security is, in my opinion, quite a bit more lax than American. I'm not complaining; let's just say I'm not a fan of the TSA. Maybe it's statements like this that get me singled out all the time at the airport? Regardless, Indian security is, in my opinion, sufficient without being invasive.

I got to my gate early and decided to take a walk to the end of the terminal since I'd be sitting for quite a while in the near future. When I came back, there were a couple members of airport personnel setting up a queue in front of the gate for additional security screening, and a western woman who had just finished speaking with them was making her way toward seats out in the terminal. I followed her and sat down in the same area; she complimented the chupa I was wearing and we got to talking. As it turns out, she's a fiber artist! She lives in Texas and, over the course of the next hour and a half or so, we had a nice little talk about our adventures in India and in fabric artistry back home. She even has a friend named Magda, so she had no trouble pronouncing (or remembering) my name.

It got closer to boarding time and we made our way through the second security screen of the evening. I guess it was supposed to be stricter because we were headed into the US, but they didn't give either of us any trouble.

Long story short, I had a 15-hour flight from Delhi to Newark. On it I sat by the window; seated next to me was a very friendly Canadian couple who were impressed at my choice of first destination outside the States.

I slept for much of it, just as I'd done the last time I traveled between countries. Just as I'd done before, I woke up as we were flying over Greenland. Since the plane left around midnight and we were flying west, the entire trip was made in darkness. I lifted the shade on the window hoping there might be some moonlight on the ice or something, because the sight of Greenland had been so striking the first time I saw it. Instead I was greeted by a cloudless sky and, incredibly, by stars. Orion floated just outside my window, crisp and clear. It was as though I could reach out and touch him. I've flown more than a few times in my life, but never before have I seen anything like I saw the other night up there. I sat and stared at my celestial companion and let myself get lost in the feeling of oneness with the sky.

I alternated between napping, chatting with the Canadians, and watching a few episodes of Twin Peaks on my laptop (I haven't finished it yet! Don't tell me what happens!!). Eventually we touched down in Newark.

Now, I was not aware that I was going to have to go through customs between my connecting flights. I thought I'd have to do that at O'Hare, when my trip ended. Nope. I had to sit and wait at baggage for my suitcase, recheck it so it would follow me to Chicago, make my way through customs, go through security again, figure out which gate my plane was at, and then race there (it's kind of a big airport) all in an hour.

I just missed it; they had just closed the door. The lady told me "the flight is closed" or some such nonsense and even though I pleaded with her, saying that I'd just gotten off my other flight and got there as fast as I possibly could, she was unsympathetic and directed me toward the customer service desk 3 gates down.

At this point I'd been basically traveling for two days straight. I was sweaty from rushing around and I was so close to being able to just chill at home, and now I was stuck.

I was also, however, in the US and so I could text message from my phone again. I got in touch with my parents and also started mentally making a contingency plan if I had to stay in the general area for more than a couple of hours.

The line was long and so tortuously slow it was like I was being made to watch a Will Ferrell movie or something -- I thought it would never end. Eventually I did get to the front and I did my best to be polite even though I just wanted to kick and whine and slap somebody. I was sure my bag was on its way to Chicago and, with my luck, it'd be lost or buried in a closet or something by the time I got there.

To my surprise, the lady handed me a boarding pass and told me I'd better hurry, because my new flight was leaving in fifteen minutes and it was a few gates down. Stunned, I stared at it a moment before uttering a thank you and racing off back down the hall.

So basically, everything turned out alright. My dad even told me later that his alarm hadn't woken him up on time so it was really no problem at all that I arrived an hour later than I originally should have. I thought for sure for a while there that I was going to be stranded "so close and yet so far" for at least a day.

I got home, though, and spent the day with family. Today some friends who may as well be family came to visit, I hung out with my dad, and I plotted and planned all the things I'm going to do now that I'm back here. I should be getting my sewing machine back from being tuned up (thanks, Mom!) any day now, so I can start sewing again. My Etsy store is open again, and I plan on adding quite a bit to it in the coming weeks. If you are in need of any kind of vinyl decals or wall art, let me know! I did go to art school, you know, and custom orders are always fun. Plus, as I was reminded as soon as I stepped off the plane in the States... Xmas is on its way. Support your local independent artists!

Losing a Whole Day

I've done a little bit of traveling in my life. Generally speaking, I really enjoy traveling by plane; I'm a person whose only reason for shying away from flight is the bureaucratic omnipotence of the TSA, not because of any fear of the transportation itself.

Until yesterday, my longest plane trip had been the first one I made to Florida some ten years ago. The flight itself wasn't that bad, but I did have a 7 hour layover in Atlanta (it was a Thursday... I remember because it was also Thanksgiving). It was a long day, to be sure, but it's not much compared to a 9.5 hour layover followed immediately by a 15 hour flight.

The day started at 4:30am when I woke to a very Sheldon-Cooper-esque “*knock knock knock* Maggie *knock knock knock* Maggie *knock knock knock* Maggie” on my bedroom door. Not the worst way to start a day, really. Dad and I loaded up my stuff, picked up Mom, and made our way to O'Hare. It was definitely nice having them both see me off, as you can see in the picture in a previous post.

Upon check-in I was relieved to find that the suitcase I'd packed was in fact only 43 pounds (well under the 50# limit) so I wouldn't have to do any last-minute rearranging of things into my carry-on. Security was a breeze, and I didn't even get picked for additional screening like I usually do... I guess I look less like a troublemaker at 6 in the morning. The flight from O'Hare to Newark was easy and uneventful. Nothing I hadn't done before.

Upon my arrival in NJ, Brandi gave me directions on how to get to Brooklyn so I could meet her and have a 9.5 hour layover that involved something other than sitting around Liberty International Airport. I congratulated myself on making it through the AirTrain and NY subway on my own like a big girl, and Brandi and I enjoyed some pretty darn good Mediterranean food and a very nice visit before she saw me back to the station and I returned to the airport. I did have to step out for a pat down (I'd rather that than radiation) but then I was on my way to plop down at my gate until we started boarding.

Protip: There aren't many outlets to charge your phone at Liberty International, at least not in Terminal C. Prepare accordingly.

After a flight delay and some moments of “holy shit, this is really happening,” we finally got on the biggest airplane I have personally been on, a 777. You know, one with two aisles and three columns of seats, like you see in the movies. That in itself was a little surreal.

I took my seat near the window, 38L. The leg room in the economy seating area of the plane may not have been anything special (luckily I'm a smallish person to begin with), but the fact that the two seats next to me remained vacant meant I could stretch out all I wanted. I win! Of course, that would have to wait, but I smiled knowing that I was going to be a whole lot more comfortable for the next 15 hours than most of the others on the plane.

Everyone took their seats, the boarding doors closed, and the plane taxied to the runway. It was then, as the plane waited on the tarmac in that customary way that always lasts longer than I expect it to, that I became acutely aware of the sound of the engines. There was something about the way the sound rolled in waves that built my anticipation -- like the wind howling through the woods or an orchestra poised for the director's downbeat – the plane hesitated on the runway as if it were trying to decide whether it actually wanted to take off.

Of course, eventually it did. The engines roared and the plane hurtled down the runway, its nose lifting into the air. It was at this point that I first really, truly, felt at peace with my decision to go to India. In this moment I teared up for the first time since I'd begun planning this whole trip, and in this moment I knew that (nevermind it was was too late to change my mind at that point) it was honestly what I wanted to do. I felt good about it. I could see the wind rushing over the wing of the plane. The pilot pulled us into the air and circled over Newark once, as if extending one last invitation to say goodbye to the only country I'd ever known.

And we were off.

Those of you who expressed a wish that I be able to sleep on said 15 hour flight will be glad to know that that is exactly what I did for most of it. I had 3 books and a loaded, fully charged iPod with me just in case, but I only managed to get through a couple of chapters. I guess 3 hours of sleep the night before will do that to you.

In fact, I slept through the dinner service (which I was quite upset about, because damn did it smell good). Even as I lay there half asleep, I smelled the spicy, aromatic deliciousness that I know to associate with Indian food and knew it was going to be a good trip. Somehow I missed them when they came through the first time, but the nice flight attendant hooked me up with a vegetarian meal once they were done serving drinks, so it all worked out.

Struck with a case of “the itis,” as Joe used to say, I settled in for a nap as the little kid in front of me seemed to work on perfecting his Zanta impression.

I woke up to find the in-flight map showing that we were over the eastern coast of Greenland. Just cracking the window shade was enough to fill the cabin with light, so bright was the sun reflecting off the ocean, the ice, and the clouds. I tried to pick out the shapes of animals, boats, anything, but I'm not sure I actually saw any.

I read for a while and took another nap. Each time I woke up I checked the screen at the front of my seating section to see that a couple more hours had passed. I got through a few chapters of Something Missing and checked the window every so often, but mostly I just saw clouds. After another nap I woke to find that we were within the last 4 hours of the flight. According to the map we were over Afghanistan crossing the border into Pakistan. I took a moment to consider that this was likely the closest I'd ever get to either of these places, and just being able to look out at the parched, cracked earth and know that that's where we were made them more real to me. It was at this point that I started to feel a little anxious. This was really happening. Until now, India still seemed far away both in distance and in time. But now, if I chose to finish my book or flipped through the movies on the screen in front of me and put on Braveheart, I'd be landing by the time it was done.

It was precisely for this reason that I did neither of these things.

I wanted a chance, my last chance, to really think about what was going on. I began to wish I'd learned more Hindi before I left. I wondered if I packed the right clothing. I hoped my contact at Tibet Charity, Kalden, would remember to pick me up at the airport (as it turns out, he did).

As if to echo my own disbelief, the child in the seat in front of me asked his mother “Are we in India?” as we left the airspace over Pakistan.

As we approached Delhi from the northwest, I lifted the shade over my window again. Clouds rolled by, and lightning illuminated the sky beyond the wing. It was incredible. I felt like India was welcoming me, painting a sky more beautiful than any I'd seen before. The lights on the plane would blink and brighten the area for a moment, and then lightning would arc some distance off and reveal the depth and the texture and the massiveness of the clouds.

An hour or so later we finally landed at Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi. Upon disembarking, a flight attendant reminded us not to drink the water; some of the high school kids whose t-shirts identified them as a volunteer group of some sort laughed and announced to each other that they would have forgotten. Not me... I have my UV water bottle handy, and I'm ready to use it. I made it through Immigration (I threw out the pineapple and dates I'd brought after getting paranoid over a story how my uncle had gotten in trouble once for bringing fruit into a foreign country... turns out they didn't even check), got my bag, and found my ride.

One of the first things I learned about India was that taxi drivers are even more .. umm.. assertive here than they are in, say, Chicago. Granted, I don't have a whole lot of experience traveling in big cities, but suffice it to say I was glad I had someone with me who knew what he was doing. Apparently here it's not uncommon to turn around on a road and head back the wrong way, either. You just put on your hazards and people more or less get out of the way. Kalden explained to me that “you can do this here,” and that road rage is nearly nonexistent because this is just how it works in India.

Two traffic jams and as many hours later, we made it to the hotel. I thanked the taxi driver who responded in like, smiled, and bowed, and Kalden and I headed up what I would consider alleyways to the building. I noticed on the way some stenciled words announcing that the area supported Tibetan autonomy. This made me feel strangely welcome and as if I were in fact in the best hotel I could be. (Kalden has informed me since that this whole area is a Tibetan neighborhood.)

My hotel room is small but clean, and it's a bit funny but I find it more comfortable than many hotel rooms I've stayed in in the US. Maybe it's the cleanliness thing. 

The restaurant here is really nice, too. For breakfast I had muesli with yogurt and nice, big chunks of fresh apple, a boiled egg, and milk tea. Yum!

Today is Tuesday, even though yesterday when I left it was Sunday. I'm feeling pretty good so far, so we'll have to see how hard the jet lag hits me in the next few days. Kalden is going to show me around Delhi today. I think I'm going to opt for some scenic destinations, cultural points of interest and whatnot; he tells me he went to see Wolverine in 3D yesterday and it only cost him 150 rupees (about $2.50) so who knows, maybe a movie will make it into the schedule just to say I did it. Tomorrow evening I'll board the bus to Dharamsala which is where I'll be staying for the next 4 months.

P.S. It's hot here. Really hot, and really humid.

P.P.S. Everything here is in English, which makes it really easy to get around. I guess that's one perk to traveling to a country that was a British colony for a really long time.

C138

Suddenly this all seems more real. Catch you on the flip side... ;)

Here we go!

See you soon, Mom and Dad! Lots of love. :) It's adventure time!

T-9hrs

Well, my friends, this is it. According to the clock on my computer, it's exactly nine hours from my scheduled departure time from O'Hare Airport in Chicago.

No, I'm not done packing yet.

Mostly, but not quite. I've got a load of laundry going, I'm filling up my iPod with 4 months worth of music (including the obligatory Sweet Home Chicago), and I'm double-checking that I've got all the essentials for what feels like the millionth time. Passport? Check. Visa? Check. ID? Check. Delicious snacks? Check. Gameboy, charged, with Harvest Moon and Phantasy Star Collection? Check and double check. Half a dozen books (all given to me by you, my friends)? Check x6. I feel like I ought to be able to finish at least three of them by the end of my 15-hour flight from Newark to Delhi.

Also tonight, I counted the cash I've received from friends and family in the last couple of weeks and am looking at my fundraiser page and am pretty much floored at how generous you all have been to me.... I am truly and deeply touched by your philanthropy, and I sincerely hope that my trip lives up to all our expectations!

Much love to you all! <3

The final stretch

We're down to the last few days before I go!

Monday I got my visa applied for and was assured it would be ready by Friday afternoon (nothing like cutting it close to add some spice to the experience), and both my arms are still sore from my immunizations. Normally I'm not a big fan of vaccinations, but seeing as I'm not sure what to expect on the other side of the world, I think I'll play it safe this time.

Packing is underway and I'm making more lists to minimize the chances of forgetting something important. It sounds like the plan now is to spend a day in Delhi before taking the 12-or-so-hour bus up to Dharamsala, which means I'll be arriving a few hours before the opening ceremony on the first day (August 1) of my charity work. I hope I end up with a reliable internet connection so I can keep you all posted!

There's no turning back now

My flights have been booked! I'm officially leaving on Sunday, July 28 from O'Hare, spending a nice long layover with my dear friend Brandi in Newark before the long leg of the trip (Newark to New Delhi), and returning December 6. Jet lag oughtta be fun.