Last Three Days

Have you ever been to the fair? Dirt roads, paved roads, paved roads with lots of dirt, while navigating around those sheriff and vender golf carts, animals milling about, the republicans booth next to the democrats booth, and an ever wafting of food just underneath all the smell of animal poo, well that’s India. That is pretty much all I think all day and every day as I move about the place. Wow, this is just like a fair, one big happy jolly fair.

The last three days combined have only been me and my new BFF Katy milling about, getting lost, and enjoying every minute of it. The first day or concierge Gopal took us about in a quick jaunt and showed us the things that we’re really close to. And amazingly it’s a lot like home; McDonalds, Subway, KFC, and Pizza Hut just to name a few familiar things.

The cattle that roam the streets are interesting, it is sort of a big deal to Katy, but having stayed with the great Mark Frey I’m used to standing next to a cow. In fact that was my response, “eh I’m kinda used to it.” Well, think about it. You wouldn’t find me in a bog city all that often, and you don’t see cattle in big cities. When the two are put together the response would be, eh I’m used to it. What I’m not used to are the dogs… Oh the damned dogs. There are stray dogs everywhere, and then at night when one howls, every last one howls. I could quote the Grinch, “Oh, the noise, noise, noise.” These dogs are far from mangy; those dogs are well feed.

On the milling part one can find themselves near a temple just about every other city block, and at the temple you will always find an exuberant amount of trash, lots and lots of trash. It took me sometime to decipher this little puzzle. Then one day as I left my humble apartment I saw some cows, cows eating trash, and then it hit me. They leave the trash at the temples to feed the cows! Strange I know, but I think that is why they don’t eat the cows, for they’d taste like garbage.

            There is a great deal of people, but it’s a different crowd than that of America. Much like the driving you just attempt to veer out of each other’s way, and no one give you dirty looks if you bump into them. I do get stared a great deal. It’s finally good to feel out of place and really without a doubt, be out of place.

            I did spend an entire day in immigration, and that is an odd feeling. I was contemplating a great deal, like people trying to get into the U.S. and how scary it must be. Just like the traffic and nearly every other Indian activity this immigration experience was something.

            So, you get a token. It’s just like taking a number at the BMV, but the wait is much longer. Here they take your picture, and look at your papers. I must have made my guy mad and he stole my passport copy, but I have Gopal sucker you aint stopping this train! Gopal would later get me another copy. So, you get your paper work together, take a number, and then wait. They call your number! Heck Yeah! I’m so in. The dude in front of the door takes your papers, checks them, and then said to me first floor. I’m excited this was going to be quick and painless.

            I got my number at around 11 o’clock, and made it to the top floor by noon, and there I sat. We left for lunch around 1:30 and I made back in time to see that they had only moved two numbers since before noon. The waiting as Tom Petty points out is the hardest part after all. At around 4:30 I finally got to see somebody, and he looked at the first page, and mumbled, “This needs to be typed, I need a photo idea to see who this is, come back tomorrow.” But I had Gopal there would be no returning tomorrow.

Gopal and I hopped down to the local computer shop and typed that paper up, and then he headed off to the school to obtain the rest. He uttered his now famous words, “I’ll be back in twenty minuets.” Those words are only famous now because any time he utters them expect an hour.

            He returned wthin the allotted time slot  of an hour and had everything I needed. And I headed back up stairs. This time the guy looked over everything and stopped at the photo.

            “Who is this?”

            “Um, it’s the photo that you said I needed?’

            “Hmph. This is fine go to the next counter.”

            Two counters later I had my paper that said that I can go anywhere in India, and that paper is worth twice it’s weight in gold I assure you.

            Katy had a similar experience, however, Gopal our ever battling against the India dignitaries guide went once to get Katy’s papers right, and now they were wrong again. So, outside the building we decided that since my papers looked like her papers, we’d take out some of her papers and try again. It worked, and that ended our day.

            So, tomorrow we are going to meet with our teacher, for we are the only two students this semester! How exciting! It appears that we will be able to shape how are classes go. Also it seems as if they are going to infuse us into the community here through a children’s school and other community projects that arise.

Until next time…. Keep your nose out of the sand.

And so it begins.

At the airports (all of them) I was nervous. Overly nervous would be putting it lightly. I’m not too sure as to why though. I think maybe it’s all because I haven’t flown much. It’s not the actual flight that gets me it’s the customs I find to be a bit crazy. The first flight was not an issue and went off with no problems. The second flight on the other hand did not go so well. As we were about to leave on a 14 hour flight the pilot come over the intercom and said it was going to be a wonderful flight, and that there was no way that we were going to be late, for there was a tail wind that was super duper amazing.

Twenty minutes after that he came on again and said there was some sort of baggage issue and we couldn’t take off, not worry we’d still be early. 45 minutes after that he came on and stated that we’d still make it on time. Can you see were this is going? Because, an hour and fifteen minutes after flight time we still werent’ off the ground and he said he would let us know as soon as he knew. Two hours of sitting on a plane that I inevitably would be sitting on for fourteen hours the pilot returned to give an explanation and the details of our up coming journey. The reason that we couldn’t take of was that there was a problem with the new software that they were using. Apparently all flights must be proportioned correctly in the baggage area. This proportioning is done through a computer system based in Phoenix. Here we are in Chicago waiting on an information database to tell the pilot it’s all good.  And we were off.

The overnight flight wasn’t bad. I mean it could have been much worse. Although it was a tight fit and I swear after this if I ever go on a flight that long again it’s gonna be at least business class. I must also note this was the smoothest landing I have ever been in a plane for. Without the sound it was barely noticeable that we even landed. There was actually applause for it.

The next leg I had to check in with customs, check in with the new flight, and find the gate.

It sounds easy, and now that I have been through it I could do it again with ease and less angst. The worst part I think was after out exit of the plan the walk to customs was enormously long. Walking from a downtown parking garage in Cleveland to Cleveland Browns stadium I think would be about the right amount of time and length of this walk. Long enough to really, really psych yourself out and make things really unnecessarily nerve racking.

So after I get the passport stamped, lose the dudes pen cap (making him rather annoyed) I got my bags and went looking for baggage check. Customs was really light. I only handed a guy a piece of paper that was it. Customs check over. While this search for I for a check in that look nothing like the check in I am used to I get waylaid into a “visitors center” they then give me a paper with English on it times and plane numbers, but for the life of me unintelligible. So, as I am attempting to get out of the visitor’s center I hand my English yet undecipherable get out of jail card to the India military gentlemen. Who only says, Bangalore!? You better hurry you only have an hour!”  

The next uniformed man, who had to be able to here the last uniformed man, took my paper reluctantly I forced it upon him just so I could ask… Where do I GO? Just then in the largest airport that I have ever been in the power goes off. The amazing part isn’t that the lights went out it was the reaction of the people in the airport.

In short there was no reaction to the lights going out. Things just kept going, there was no computer lag once the power was restored, and the entire place didn’t see this as out of the ordinary. The unaffected uniformed man 2 said go to G.

As I ran, about looking for a G that wasn’t there, I swear the letters went from D to H so I randomly went about looking for India Air, which had way to many check ins. This wasn’t helped by the lack of information on their screens. I just had to go up and show them the paper, and they would point further and further down. I finally reached the letter D and found the place I was supposed to be. I had to go through another carry on bag check, and then I was finally able to get to my gate.

And? It was the wrong gate. It was in reality the next gate over, but this pissed off the guy checking the tickets. I am in the end a stupid American, or just like customer service in America, there are stupid people everywhere.

Then this plane is delayed almost identically to the first one only I’m not in the plane thank God. Once on this plane this was probably the best flight out of the three in terms of comfort and hospitality. This flight was super sweet because we unloaded on the tarmac like all those sixties and seventies movies portray. This trip solely based on that was worth it hands down.

So after I was transported to the baggage claim and got me bags I became worried to not see a sign with my name out it. In fact it scared me to death.  I was late, about three hours late now, and I thought maybe my ride had gone home. I had my plan though I was ready. I was just going to get a taxi, get a room, and call someone in the morning. But Alas there was a troth of people out side and all of them had signs.

There it was my name, and I was saved. This was my first experience in the only thing I can describe as India’s organized chaos. Well, the whole find the check in was chaotic, but I blame that on in experience more so than to India. This was a mess of people all milling about in there own direction bumping into no one. As we walked to the car and had scant conversation, we approached what I assumed was or line of cars. I saw the small little van off in the distance, and began to mutter, “oh please let it be that one let it be that small little van over there. It was our ride, oh sweet mother of Marry it was our ride.

This small little van was sweet, and even better it smells just like my 74 Beetle. That car had a very distinct smell, and still does to this day. I have no Idea what it is, or how that smell is created. I think I want it to remain a mystery. The most interesting thing is the longer the car is on the road the more distinct this smell becomes. I was loving it.

The roads here are bad, and the traffic is worse. It’s pedal to the metal horn blowing chaos, the horn is just simply a way of saying hello I’m here, don’t do anything stupid.

The views coming into Bangalore are interesting. You have modernity with ancient and very old tradition on top of one another. It’s daunting to grasp at first. The run down huts, and the out of date shops with 4G HERE! Signs in the windows. At night it looks very run down at night without people.

We finally arrive at my room, and I must say it’s quaint, but very nice. And I’m willing to bet that here in India it’s posh even. Gopal, and there will be lots more with Gopal said he would be by in the morning about 9, and that concludes the entrance into India.

T-minus 8 days and counting.

There were a few suggestions that I should post while I prance around India looking for things I can't find here, and furthermore keep those who are interested as to my doings there up to date with the frolicking. I will admit it's going to be nice to look back at the whole experience whence I have returned, and this is a good place to establish a solid foundation for my memories. And I promise to keep it clean!

So, as I finished my thesis I thought I might prepare myself for an exit to India, and the only way I know how to truly do that is to put on the Beatles white album, and bask in the glory of what they made there.  Since I have been a Beatles fan since I was in the seventh grade, this is also an opportunity to reflect how I'm even in the position to be traveling there in the first place.

After I returned home from the west from the first round trip, I had a great deal of questions. Although a great deal of the questions were steeped heavily in the tea mug of heart ache, I had more questions about what this life was, what God was about, who I was, and where I was going in relation to those around me.Not that these questions weren't posed earlier in some form or another; it was that these questions seemed important and there was an immediacy to them that wasn't present as before.

A friend of mine, who was in the same state as I, handed me the Autobiography of a Yogi. As I progressed through the pages a great deal of the answers I had been asking were addressed. I truly felt that Hinduism was a home I could reside in. However, as things move on, and they always do, I felt that a great deal was still missing. However, in the mean time as I was doing yoga and meditation I went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and there smiling back at me was the originator of the line of gurus I had been studying under. His face was on a pin that George Harrison has wore during the concert of Bangladesh. I would be lying if I didn't think at the time this was somehow mean to be. I would later go home and reexamine the cover of Sgt. Pepper to discover three more gurus of the same line. To even hit the nail harder I owned their books. It felt odd that there was this connection; something I had been so obsessed about for so long (The Beatles) was a connection for later in life. Yet, as I studied, to reiterate, it just didn't feel right.

So, I went deeper into the Indian traditions and discovered Buddhism.

Just like Hinduism at first I loved it, and went so far as to study at a college that claimed to be the only Buddhist inspired college in North America. One would think this place would be a mecca of free, open minded, free thinking, understanding, objectively academic, and fun loving people. However, that was not the case. I will admit that most of them thought outside of box, but they had built a box of their own, stood on it and professed their way of thinking. Being that the Buddha had said that if you disagree with something you hear, you should question those who posed the idea in the first place, and then answer it for yourself.  I quickly discovered that any sort expostulation was out of the question.

So, once I again I found myself looking for more answers about myself and the direction I should head. Finding myself in Ohio and due to a slight miss direction (the miss direction taught me I can't do math) I found myself at Ashland University.

I feel privileged to have come in contact with those who reside at Ashland the students and the faculty alike. These last few years I have come to feel like I belong. My questions are never looked at as a hindrance, but only as exploration as I have always thought they were. It was here at Ashland that it was suggested that I finally make the leap to India in my quest for whatever it is that I'm searching for, and to be honest I don't even know what that is. Hopefully I can finally find it, and tell you about it as I do.