I mentioned in my last entry that there were few occasions where I’ve felt I’ve connected with Indian people. While that still holds true for the vast majority of my interactions, I’ve often been lent a helping hand and sometimes been the recipient of unexpected and timely wisdom.
Accompanying my travel-friend Thomas on a gift buying excursion for his mother in Udaipur, I was readily lured into one of many silver shops lining the main tourist street. Although I didn’t buy anything, I found myself back there the next day, figuring that if I were to buy something, it might as well be from a shopkeeper I found quite amicable. After exchanging a couple of words of greeting, Aju said to me “excuse me if I say this, but you are very direct, I like that about you because I know that you are honest, but sometimes you are too direct and not everyone will like this.” Alright, Aju had my attention! Our conversation rapidly took a turn towards the philosophical. Unmarried and, for reasons I am unclear about, not connected with his family, Aju grew up living with his guru, a person that he continues to live with. Over chai in the cramped jewelry stall, Aju dispensed his wisdom on a wide range of topics. He cautioned me never to worry about money, because his experience with rich people taught him that they are seldom happy and don’t get the chance to do the things they want to. (Rich readers, feel free to weigh in on this point) Besides, why worry when I will always find food to eat and have a roof to sleep under? (he’s right, so far has been true) He then told me not to worry about love, because that would find me in due course. He also told me not to worry about my career, because it will work itself out and in the meantime, I should be happy to find and do part-time work. (Yes, I too noticed the theme here…) Covering all the bases, he advised not to be impatient for things in life, because everything happens for a reason. Finally, he told me something that has stuck with me ever since and is the title of this entry: “do not complain, because you never know what will happen next.”
This has proven true repeatedly over the course of my trip. Arriving close to midnight in a ‘small town’ of 80,000 (sorry mom), the son of the hotel owner miraculously appeared to pick me up and whisk me to the guesthouse on the back of his motorbike, backpacks in tow (sorry again). Unsure of where any train was going at any given time, countless students, young women and families made sure I got the right information. One time a girl my age and her father even shared their rickshaw to the local bus station with me after finding out on our train ride that we were making the same journey. I have eaten chocolate, nuts, glutinous sweets and mystery fruits shared by neighbours in my train compartment, never once succumbing to Delhi belly (given my constitution, I’m as shocked as you are). Anticipating that a 4 am taxi ride a train station an hour away couldn’t go smoothly, I was unsurprised when we got a flat tire, and equally unsurprised when my driver deftly changed it and got me to the station on time. Desperate to print a ticket for my next day’s travel to Goa, I was confronted with the information that the internet in the entire district of Udaipur where I was staying wasn’t working because of a ‘Muslim festival’. Equally mysterious was the one internet shack in the middle of the chaos that had a signal for ‘the next 20 or 30 minutes’ that let me in, only to have half of my ticket print before the printer was crippled by a paper jam that only the owner could fix (who was of course in absentia, probably due to the festival…). Arriving in Kerala this week, I was offered a broad array of tours by my guesthouse and tourist information centres alike, only to find out at one of them that there was a taxi/auto rickshaw strike planned for the following day over petrol prices that was anticipated to continue for an indeterminate amount of time! Unfortunately, having not booked the private taxi tour to Munnar, I am not able to tell you how that situation would have miraculously resolved itself!
The surprises continue with fellow travelers that I’ve met along the way. I scarcely had time to worry about being alone before I found myself in a conversation with the person next to me, whether it be at a restaurant, in a line or at a yoga class. What was unexpected is the level of intimacy attainable with complete strangers over fleeting periods of time. Maybe there is a freedom in having an acquaintance that you are unlikely to meet again. Or maybe, to use a word that the Germans I’ve met would be happy to see, it stems from the common bond of those also afflicted with wanderlust. Regardless, my days have been enriched by chats late into the night, laughs about random happenings and invitations to even more places for me to visit!
So Aju’s been right, I could hardly have predicted most of the things that have happened but everything has managed to work out well! Unfortunately, this reality didn’t prevent me from going to bed yesterday worried about where I would find accommodation over New Years eve (Kerala is a popular tourist destination and I detoured there at the last minute). I’ll even admit to complaining about this in my journal. But yet again, I could not have guessed what happened next. Today I am writing this entry in the Delhi airport, waiting for my 3:05 am departure to Toronto. Yes, you read that right. One night a couple of weeks ago, despite the fact that the internet was not working on the streets of Bundi, India yet again surprised me by providing an unsecured wireless internet connection for what amounted to five minutes longer than I needed to interview for a volunteer position with the CBA in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Yesterday, while lazily spending the morning in Kochi, I found out I got the position. Confronted with exorbitant price differentials, an initial response from Jet Airways that I could not get a flight back home until January 20th and the imminent transportation strike, I choose the most straight-forward route home presented to me.
And so, this morning I left Kerala, self described as ‘god’s own country’, the region of India that I first imagined so many years ago. I didn’t see enough of it, but during my 14 hour train ride south from Goa, I remember thinking clearly that this was the India of my dreams. Endless rows of coconut trees lined broad lakes interspersed with lush green vegetation. The paths to homes along the countryside cut red swaths into the earth. And it was hot, gloriously so! I think something changes when the temperature rises; I immediately noticed Kochi to be a far more relaxed city than any of the ones I’d recently visited in the North. To be fair, since I’ve been told that it gets to 50 degrees Celsius during the summer in Rajasthan, I’ll have to reserve final judgment. Until when? My next trip to India, of course! It is with mixed emotions that I leave here, looking forward to a new place and new adventures and challenges, but at the same time cutting short a plan that was so long in the making. In a way, it’s comforting to know that you can’t actually see all the places in the world, so I can cut myself some slack on that front.
I will continue to write as I head to Tanzania, but will spare you the details of what I’ll be doing over the next couple of weeks, which will be comprised of decidedly less interested things like laundry, visits to medical professionals and experiments in my parent’s kitchen. By the time I post this, I will be at home, so you’ll know where to find me!
A happy, healthy New Year to everyone!
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