Filling the Gap

My blog has a gap. A gap called Costa Rica. I tried to write from the lovely comfortable Central American safe haven, but felt that while I was happy and surrounded by completely amazing people, my life in Ciudad Colon somehow did not inspire me or make me think about culture and life in the way a blog entry requires. Travel snob, I know, but I am happy to say, that India thus far has challenged that dormant part of my travel mind on every possible level, from the markets, to the spices, to the expectations and disappointments, a bout with Dehradun’s hospital, my first vicrum ride, and above all, being a tall blonde ALONE in India. It has been four days and I already feel that I’ve experienced more than I did in the past 5 months in Costa Rica. 

Life.

Yes, it has only been four days but somehow in this village where the day starts at 5 am and ends at 10 pm with nothing to mark the hour but the call to prayer from neighboring villages or the double Chai bell from the kitchen,  I feel like I’ve been here three months. I can’t really describe my day to day yet, as I haven’t figured out what that might look like, but I can say that the people are wonderful, life is incredibly slow, and I have somehow landed my self on a farm called Nevdanya, in a village called Ramgarh in East Bumblefuck, India. We have electricity and running water for about 2 hours a day and internet comes in and out with the power. Showers are but bucket baths, toilets are little more than a hole in the floor, and food is glorified rice and beans (the spicy version) three times daily... but I could not be happier. 


                                      

The most memorable recent experience other than surviving the trip to this village, was certainly yesterday’s trip to the Dehradun hospital. My roommate Clair who arrived from France the same night that I arrived from New York, fell terribly sick within 48 hours. She couldn’t hold any liquid or food, fainted every few hours, was running a fever of 103 and her skin had turned a sickly yellow color. By all signs, it looked like she had hepatitis. (Unfortunately in France they tell you, you only need a yellow fever vaccination to come to India as opposed to the states where I got shot up  for yellow fever, Hep A, Hep B, polio, meningitis, tetanus, typhoid, and malaria). So without hesitation, my new little Navdanya family and I piled into a four person vikrum and made the hour trek to Dehradun, the closest city. 

Having not set foot outside the Delhi airport during my layover upon arriving in India, Dehradun was my first real run-in with an Indian city. Suffice to say, India is.... intense. I couldn’t help but think as we rambled between cars, motorcycles, and pedestrians that India on first glance seems to me a land of contradiction. Dehradun, for instance was a city of complete rubble and gray dirt pierced by the blazing red and yellow sari’s of Indian woman, a city where impatient vikrum drivers nearly run each other over every four seconds but stop to give an apple to the one armed street child on the corner, a city where the hospital seemed little more than a ward for India’s dead, dying, and deceased but offered Clair immediate attention and treatment that far surpassed many American hospitals I’ve been to where patients wait hours in the ER. 

Steve pointed out how funny it was that I felt close enough after 48 hours to bring someone to the hospital. And it is funny, to think that these people, fellow interns and researchers, were complete strangers just days ago, and that within 48 hours we were bonded strongly enough to make a four-person trip to the hospital together. I believe it to be a type of survival mechanism particularly among women traveling alone to connect quickly. It’s as if you know instantly that you are very very very far from home, in a land that its not necessarily hospitable or safe, and it is a bit crucial, as Clair quickly learned, to  surround yourself with strong friends as soon as humanly possible. 

Clair: The French Firecracker (before the hospital).

So far I’ve got Frenchy Clair, the firecracker from France, Momma Sevitri, the 52 year old American Phd student, Latina Maru, the yoga loving Uruguayan chic (who is currently doing sun salutations as I write), Herua, the Japanese plant whisperer, Celia the adorable Kanuk, Pemitra our resident Indian, who being from non-Hindi speaking Bangalore feels just as alien here as we do, and Fredriko, our Italian Stallion who gets more existential about the world and our purpose here than Aer and I combined in our worst hours or confusion. 

So, here’s to a new subcontinent, new research, new spices, new stories, and a new family.