Final Moments in Bir

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...

The Most Exciting Trip of My Life

Quiz time! What is better than a 12 hour flight? If you said "a 12-hour bus ride," then DING DING DING we have a winner! Sorry, there is not a prize, because this is a blog and there is no way for me to actually know if anyone guessed that correctly. Plus, the answer was meant to be sarcastic anyhow. Yes, the bus ride from Delhi to Dharamsala lasted a good 12 hours at least, and the journey was not without incident and included a sci-fi, superhero, Bollywood romantic movie, a dodgy roadside food stop, an illegal bus, and a nice delay due to getting stuck in the mud.

So the trip had a rocky start when we arrived at the pickup location and, guess what, there was no bus. The men at the alleged stop told our driver that there was a new spot where we needed to go, and our driver later explained that this was because technically, the bus we were taking was owned by a private company and not the government and therefore illegal. Nice. I love sketchy situations like that. So the stop moves every few days so that the police can't track them down. The new stop was under a bridge near mosquito-infested puddles and on an entrance to a highway and looked like the kind of place where drug deals occur on the regular. If not for the presence of our Indian driver, I would have feared for my life, especially when I began to fear the the bus was not coming after we waited for almost an hour. We were passed by cows showing us their less attractive ends as they ate papaya scraps, and lots of people walking around for God knows what purpose on a highway entrance.

By the time I boarded the bus, I was already cranky. At least it was a fancy Volvo with reclining seats and a blanket. Woo hoo, that's what I call ritzy... and even better, we were lucky enough to have a movie! The plot was a mix between a Marvel comic film and Contagion, that weird movie about a mysterious and deadly disease that started killing everyone. Oh, and then there were dance numbers and a completely unrelated love story. At one point we even thought they changed the movie but then the superhero came back. Later as we described the film to our Tibetan ride from the bus stop and he instantly perked up and said "yes, that is Krish!" so apparently it is a popular franchise here. Cultural differences...

Indians must have bladders of steel. After our first stop about an hour into the journey at a creepy rest stop area in the middle of nowhere with urinals outside along a wall, we did not have a single bathroom break. Thank God the first stop had Western toilets. Comically enough, any time we have encountered lines in the ladies' room they are for the squat toilets and the Western ones are open. Basically, I had to pee like a racehorse by the time we reached Dharamsala. Too much info? Probably.

Don't worry, it gets better. I finally fell into a fitful sleep for a few hours and then heard an ominous noise come from the bus that sounded like the driver couldn't get it into gear. I instantly feared the worst- we were stuck and the bus broke down and we would be waiting on the side of the road in a sketchy village in India with no way to get to our destination. Really optimistic, I know. Jim told me to take a positivity pill. It was not that bad in reality- the bus just got stuck in the mud. Of course, none of the cars stopped to help- instead they created a makeshift path by off-roading around us pathetic stranded passengers. Eventually, after pushing and trying to dig the bus out proved useless, he driver tied the front of our bus to another bus which pulled it out of the muck and set us on our way. My first comment to the others was "well, maybe one day I will find this funny." I am still waiting for that day, even though you are all probably laughing hysterically at my misfortune.

We finally arrived, and I was not exactly in good humor. I am thrilled to be flying back.