Every second I spend in India, my love for the country grows. I continuously think there is no way my love can augment any further, and then I realize just how erroneous a thought that is. The culture is richer than a three-layer red velvet cake with thick, cream cheese frosting. Kindness and genuine warmth radiate from the people here making it impossible to feel even a twinge of sadness or loneliness. The music and sounds drift along the air and entangle you in a warm embrace of sensory stimulation. India cast out its shiny bait and like a naive little fish, I eagerly gobbled it up. Now I am trapped in India's trance, enveloped in an inextinguishable love for this magical place. Anyone who never steps foot in this country will never realize what the are missing
When I left Bir, I cried more than I did at the end of The Notebook and the beginning of Up combined. J.R.R. Tolkein once said that friends are the family you choose for youself. This was certainly the case with my family of friends in Bir. I came to love everyone I lived with during my home stay here. I thought it was going to take a crowbar to pry me away from them. After some of the toughest goodbyes of my life, I stepped into the cab and headed off on the beginning of my journey home.
After the bus trip from Hell that got me to Dharamsala, I completely swore it off as a way to return to Delhi. However, my fear of my flight becoming one of the many that are cancelled out of the Dharamsala airport trumped my dread of a long bus trip down windy, pothole-ridden roads. The bus ride started off on the wrong foot (or wrong wheel? Since it is a vehicle?) when we were picked up late and dropped off at some sketchy, middle of nowhere makeshift bus stop. We were given barf bags at the start of the trip which I initially found comical but quickly realized I may actually need. The big, clunky bus puttered up and down the mountain, weaving precariously and far too fast around tight narrow curves. My stomach instantly felt as though it had jolted up into my throat. All I could do was put on headphones, close my eyes, and try to ignore the wave of nausea washing over me.
Thankfully, it was not long before we made our first pit stop. From the experience on my previous bus trip, I assumed we would be stopping for food and bladder relief at a dodgy truck stop where you would expect to be chainsaw-murdered by a psychopath or at least expect to pick up some rare STD from the toilet seat. Not the case for this stop, the Sidhartha resort in a little wooded area on the side of the highway. It had the cleanest bathroom I have seen in India hands down. Actually, to put it in better perspective, it was cleaner than a good deal of restrooms in the US. Though I was not particularly hungry, once my nose detects even the slightest hint of the aroma of curry, I am unable to pass it up. It is my own personal kryptonite, for any of my would-be arch-nemeses if I ever become a superhero- now you can easily defeat me limiting the comic books released to one or two. Anyways, Chris and I payed the "whopping" 150 rupees for the buffet (about 3 USD, whereas in the states something like that would be about 10 USD) and chowed down on vegetable manchurian, raita, daal, naan, mutter paneer and salad.
After we were refreshed from our wee rest, we reluctantly returned to our seats for the remainder of the trip. There was a delay for literally no reason and we ended up staying at the rest stop about an hour and a half in total. Thankfully, the remainder of the journey was uneventful and comprised of my unsuccessful attempts at uninterrupted sleep as the driver constantly blared the bus horn, which sounded like something you would hear at the carnival, at other vehicles. We would have had no idea we had arrived in Delhi if one of the other passengers hadn't told us to get off, especially considering the entire journey took only about 10 hours and it should have been around 12 or 13. The final stop was alongside a sketchy road in, once again, the middle of nowhere. We probably got majorly ripped off by the cab driver who took us to the hotel where we are staying until our departing flights, but thankfully everything is so cheap here that even when we are hustled in the worst way it seems dirt cheap comparatively. The cab was a mass breeding ground for mosquitoes- I felt a tickle on my hand and went to brush it away but smashed the most blood-bloated mosquito I have ever seen. I wanted to ask the driver if he offered a Malaria or Dengue discount. Or, maybe a free ride altogether if you contract both.
Anyways, after a long ride where it felt like a 50/50 chance we were being taken into a dark alley to be mugged and killed (I was so glad Chris, another volunteer was with me) we arrived at the hotel at the ass crack of dawn- around 5:30 AM. We were told our room will be ready at 7:30, so now we play the waiting game...
When I left Bir, I cried more than I did at the end of The Notebook and the beginning of Up combined. J.R.R. Tolkein once said that friends are the family you choose for youself. This was certainly the case with my family of friends in Bir. I came to love everyone I lived with during my home stay here. I thought it was going to take a crowbar to pry me away from them. After some of the toughest goodbyes of my life, I stepped into the cab and headed off on the beginning of my journey home.
After the bus trip from Hell that got me to Dharamsala, I completely swore it off as a way to return to Delhi. However, my fear of my flight becoming one of the many that are cancelled out of the Dharamsala airport trumped my dread of a long bus trip down windy, pothole-ridden roads. The bus ride started off on the wrong foot (or wrong wheel? Since it is a vehicle?) when we were picked up late and dropped off at some sketchy, middle of nowhere makeshift bus stop. We were given barf bags at the start of the trip which I initially found comical but quickly realized I may actually need. The big, clunky bus puttered up and down the mountain, weaving precariously and far too fast around tight narrow curves. My stomach instantly felt as though it had jolted up into my throat. All I could do was put on headphones, close my eyes, and try to ignore the wave of nausea washing over me.
Thankfully, it was not long before we made our first pit stop. From the experience on my previous bus trip, I assumed we would be stopping for food and bladder relief at a dodgy truck stop where you would expect to be chainsaw-murdered by a psychopath or at least expect to pick up some rare STD from the toilet seat. Not the case for this stop, the Sidhartha resort in a little wooded area on the side of the highway. It had the cleanest bathroom I have seen in India hands down. Actually, to put it in better perspective, it was cleaner than a good deal of restrooms in the US. Though I was not particularly hungry, once my nose detects even the slightest hint of the aroma of curry, I am unable to pass it up. It is my own personal kryptonite, for any of my would-be arch-nemeses if I ever become a superhero- now you can easily defeat me limiting the comic books released to one or two. Anyways, Chris and I payed the "whopping" 150 rupees for the buffet (about 3 USD, whereas in the states something like that would be about 10 USD) and chowed down on vegetable manchurian, raita, daal, naan, mutter paneer and salad.
After we were refreshed from our wee rest, we reluctantly returned to our seats for the remainder of the trip. There was a delay for literally no reason and we ended up staying at the rest stop about an hour and a half in total. Thankfully, the remainder of the journey was uneventful and comprised of my unsuccessful attempts at uninterrupted sleep as the driver constantly blared the bus horn, which sounded like something you would hear at the carnival, at other vehicles. We would have had no idea we had arrived in Delhi if one of the other passengers hadn't told us to get off, especially considering the entire journey took only about 10 hours and it should have been around 12 or 13. The final stop was alongside a sketchy road in, once again, the middle of nowhere. We probably got majorly ripped off by the cab driver who took us to the hotel where we are staying until our departing flights, but thankfully everything is so cheap here that even when we are hustled in the worst way it seems dirt cheap comparatively. The cab was a mass breeding ground for mosquitoes- I felt a tickle on my hand and went to brush it away but smashed the most blood-bloated mosquito I have ever seen. I wanted to ask the driver if he offered a Malaria or Dengue discount. Or, maybe a free ride altogether if you contract both.
Anyways, after a long ride where it felt like a 50/50 chance we were being taken into a dark alley to be mugged and killed (I was so glad Chris, another volunteer was with me) we arrived at the hotel at the ass crack of dawn- around 5:30 AM. We were told our room will be ready at 7:30, so now we play the waiting game...
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