Namaste! Welcome to this blog, an exploration of my adventures as I explore this crazy world and experience for myself just how big or small it really is. To those of you who have followed this blog in the past, welcome back, and I will sincerely try not to drop off the face of the internet after the first three months, as I clearly did in Northern Ireland. For those of you slightly out of the loop (or senile?), I have been fortunate to receive a Fulbright to spend the next nine months teaching English in a public school in New Delhi, India to children in grades 6-8. The Fulbright is a government grant, founded by Arkansas senator J. William Fulbright in 1948, with the aim of sending US citizens abroad and bringing foreign nationals to the US, to teach or conduct research, in order to foster mutual understanding between Americans and their fellow Earth dwellers. What this means for me is that the government gives me a round trip flight to India and a monthly stipend in exchange for teaching the kiddies some English. Not a bad deal! Thanks, taxpayers!
Last week was a total whirlwind, in which I flew to Austin, Texas for the pre-departure orientation, left early to attend my student's graduation and finish out the school year at Clear View, and then slept nearly 17 hours on Saturday. The rest of my weekend was spent saying goodbye to those I could, running around purchasing last minute supplies, and frantically packing everything that could POSSIBLY fit into my suitcase and 65 liter backpack. Packing to live for a year in Delhi was a much more complicated process than I had anticipated. Not only did I have to include plenty of winter clothing (a fleece, down coat, wool sweaters, thermals, hats and gloves), as the temperature can drop to the 40s (Fahrenheit) and buildings are poorly heated and insulated, but my inner worrywart (and outer worrywart in the form of my mother) insisted that I arrive prepared for any biological or natural disaster within any range of probability. Not to mention the 150 tampons I felt compelled to include, after every suggested packing list I read said to include them. (For reals. Sanitary products here better be bad enough to have made the schlepping worth it. But I digress). After stocking up on Tylenol, Advil, DayQuil, NyQuil, hand sanitizer, sunscreen, bug spray, Immodium, Cipro, anti-itch cream, Bacitracin, Sensodyne toothpaste (my teeth are sensitive!), flossers, index cards, post its, funky pencils to give to students, the five books given to us by the State Department as teaching aids, two journals (thanks, Aileen and Clear View!), six pairs of shoes, one LED mini flashlight, two cameras and zero extra muscles for the haul, I was prepared for an apocalypse in which I would have to teach the survivors to speak English. India would be a breeze by comparison, no?
When I arrived at the gate in JFK, i was greeted by four fellow English Teaching Assistants (ETAs) on the same Air India flight via Paris. The 15+ hour flight was uneventful; I watched five movies and slept no more than an hour, sat next to a lovely older couple who had to get up about 10 times for me in my effort to stay hydrated. Arriving at the newly renovated Indira Gandhi Airport, I was surprised by how clean and well-organized it was in contrast to what everyone had told me to expect (pre-renovation). One thing i will say is that the man who checked my passport at passport control acted as if he had never seen a passport before. He picked it up awkwardly by the corner, confused when he found my expired UK visa and flashing his eyes between my face and the appropriate visa for about five long minutes. I was the first one of the ETAs to approach the agent and the last to leave! Weird. In any case, as the five of us emerged into the crushing Delhi heat (despite the fact that it was 7PM), I felt an inner warmth as my long-awaited hope to see this country was fulfilled. Despite my obvious fatigue and stiff neck, the heat reminded me of how far back my interest in India goes and how satisfying it was to see this place I had heard and read so much about.
Those of you who knew me as a child will remember that I sought out and wore bindis on my forehead starting around age eight or nine, I think. From the international themed birthday party my mom threw for my sixth(?) birthday to witnessing the constant flow of my Israeli relatives and friends to and from India, this country has been in my consciousness far longer than most. Though Indian food is not my favorite, it is the senses of sight, smell and sound that I seek to overwhelm with input, from the vibrant colors of clothing to the constant sound of car horns wherever you go. No matter what, I am in for an adventure.
