And just like that, the dream is over…

As they say, “Time flies when you are having fun.”  That couldn’t be more correct.  I left for India on April 1st.  Returning on May 5th seemed like forever away, but it came and went and we are now well into the second week of May.  Maybe it is better to travel more as a child when time travels at a snail’s pace.  Oh well.

I left Seattle in the evening and landed in Dubai 14 hours later, the following evening.  I have a dear friend living there at the moment so I spent the night with her, and two other friends from Hanoi who where also passing through town.  It was a great reunion that was far too short with only 12 hours before my next flight.  When it was time for bed, I was greatly jet-lagged so I was wide awake for most of the night.  Just as I was dozing off, I heard the “call to prayer” over the loudspeaker down the street.  Do you know what time the “call” is?  About 4:45am.  Just FYI.

Before I knew it, I was off to the airport.  This must be the world’s largest airport as I honestly walked over a kilometer to my gate, which was an internal gate where you walk down a dark ramp to the dimly lit basement, then a bus picks you up and takes you on a 10 min ride to the far corner of the tarmac to board the plane.  Perhaps they don’t like India.  I said to the driver, “Are we driving to Mumbai?”

I arrived in this city of 20 million people, from the airport in a cab that came straight from the cold war, I headed to my friend Shivani’s home.  She is a friend I met in Florence during my grad program.  It was good to see her after six years, but it felt like it was yesterday when I saw her last.  Mumbai (formerly Bombay) is a city of the “haves” and “have nots”  Where in one corner you have the most expensive home in the world, a $1billion, 27 story building for a family of 4.  Four people!  In the shadow of this “home” you have millions of people (about 55%) living in slums, on the streets, next to open sewers, eating maybe a handful of rice a day.  My head hurts thinking of the preposterousness of the contradictions.

I spent three days in Mumbai, seeing the “Gateway to India”, the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel – one of the bombing sites in 2008, the “Slumdog Millionaire” slum, and having random people want to take their picture with me,  before I headed south.  I flew to Mangalore where I caught a train to Kannur.  I had read about the trains and that there were different class levels to travel in.  Even the “nicer” classes are still dirt cheap so I figured I would go via “Reserved A/C” class since it was hot and stuffy outside.  I found the line for tickets and as there were only 3 people in that line I felt I was in luck.  But as I stood in line, more people came into the line… in front of me.  They just filed up to the window, giving no regard to those of us in line.  “What the hell?  Is this how it works?!”  So I pushed my way to the front and by the time I got to the window I just said “Kannur”.  He told me it was 50 rupees (about $1), I paid and walked away with my ticket… which was printed in Malayalam – the local language – which looks like curly-cues akin to what it looks like when I’m trying to get my ballpoint pen to re-ink.  I found a young person who spoke a little English to explain to me that I had the general seating at the far end of the train.  Push your way on and good luck finding a seat.  As the only white girl around, I got many stares and hesitant looks.  I saw one spot on a bench and asked if I may sit there.  Two girls just looked at me and cocked their head from side to side – I guess you could say like a bobblehead.  I said to myself, “I don’t know what the hell that means, but I’m sitting.”  Turns out, it was a way to say “yes”, also “good morning”, “hello”, “I don’t know”….  It was standing room only in our car and a very long 2.5hr ride.

I arrived in Kannur bleary-eyed and tired.  I found my hotel and also found that a Communist Comrades Convention was taking place that same weekend in town.  Not only was a I single, white girl traveling in a place that doesn’t see too many tourists, I was now surrounded by a bunch of commie men that all stared at me.  Needless to say, I wasn’t too adventuresome and spent most of the next day in my hotel room.  I was very happy when Monday came and it was time to meet my group whom I would volunteer with for the next 3 weeks.  We had a great group of all women.  One other girl from the US, 2  from Mexico, and 3 from France (unfortunately the other American had to leave less than 2 weeks in for personal reasons).  We had such a great time together.  During the week we worked at a boarding school for orphaned and disabled girls.  Half the time was spent painting a mural in a classroom and the other half of the time was spent playing with the girls.  We didn’t have a common language, but we didn’t need one to have a good time.  We taught them our own games and songs, and they taught us some of theirs.  There were about 8 girls ranging from about 5 years to late teens.  We had so much fun with them and I thank them for what they taught us.

The other part of our day was leaning about Ayurveda medicine and yoga.  As I mentioned in my last post, Ayurveda (meaning life science) is a 5000 year old practice using what nature has provided as well as your own body to heal.  It was amazing to learn about different techniques and herbs to use from a cough or congestion to cancer and diabetes.  We got to peel bark off a cinnamon tree, as well as chew lemon leaves, pick peppers, and try bitter root.  Nature provides so much more than we even know.  Most of us also wanted to try an Ayurveda massage which usually you need a minimum of 3 sessions and a doctor’s recommendation.  So I went to get an appointment to see the doctor first.  The receptionist at the Parassini Ayerveda College that we were at, told me the doctor could see me right away.  “Oh, that’s great!  How much is his fee?”  “20 rupees.”  I choked and asked her to repeat the price.  Yes, a visit to the doctor cost me about 40 cents.  Cents!  He checked me over, asked a bunch of health questions and then gave me my prescription.  “Awesome, I’m going to get 3 massages for about $5 each!”  Well when I arrived for my massage, I had to lay on a wooden table and two women who didn’t speak a lick of English poured oil all over me then went to work.  It was actually quite uncomfortable and at the end, I was ready for the fry pan I had so much oil on me.  Needless to say, I passed on the other two massages.  I just told myself, “It’s all part of the adventure.”

The three weeks came and went and before I knew it, we were all saying good bye to each other.  The friendships and memories I walked away with will last forever.  We were the only tourists we saw the whole time and the looks from the locals proved it.  We traveled with the locals – on the bus, which I don’t think can leave until it is packed to the brim with people.  We ate with the locals – using our hands as utensils.  We shopped with the locals – at the markets, buying clothes, bartering for things that cost next to nothing and drooling over all the brightly colored, beautiful saris.  We went to spiritual rituals with the locals – even when one was at 4:30am.  We had wild adventures on the weekends – traveling 4 hours on a crowded bus to a wildlife sanctuary that was closed then staying in an $8/night hotel – just guess what you get with that… and staying in paradise the following weekend with our own private beach.  You don’t get this kind of a trip from a travel agent.

My last destination in India was Kochi, about 6.5 hours south of Kannur.  This time I made sure to reserve a seat on the train so I wouldn’t have to fight for a spot to sit.  $2 is all my ticket cost, but 6.5 hours on an Indian train is a very long time, especially when you are in the back row near the bathroom.  ‘Nuff said.  In Kochi I stayed with a friend’s mother who made sure I had all the mangoes I could possibly eat before leaving the country.  This was also a chance to play tourist as this city attracts travelers, but still not a lot of them.  I was actually kind of excited to see tourists and I wanted to call out to them and engage in conversation, but alas, they had no interest in me, after all to them I was just another tourist.  Oh well, I promise they didn’t have the adventure that I did.

As I flew out back to Dubai, I reflected on what I experienced over the last month.  India is a land rich in history, culture, spices, and life.  They have all that they need and live for today.  They may have some of the poorest of the poor but they are rich in spirit and steeped in tradition, quite the opposite of where I was heading.

I was going to stay in Dubai again with my friend for 3 days.  As I like to learn about the culture of places I go, I was a bit saddened by the fact that Dubai doesn’t have much culture, save for a very small touristy mock up Bedouin village.  Despite how beautiful the architecture is there, it is a city without a soul.  It’s Vegas for the rich.  Fancy cars, designer labels, and gold jewelry are what you find there.  We did have fun though.  We went on a desert safari – riding in SUV’s through the sand dunes, seeing camels, having dinner and a show at sunset, and we went sightseeing through the city to see the Burj al Arab – the only 7 star hotel in the world, and the Burj Kalifa – the tallest building in the world, and one very gorgeous beach with turquoise water.  My friend tried to hide from the sun under her umbrella, while I embraced it, trying to soak up every ray that I could.  She wanted A/C, I wanted heat.  She was always hot and I would freeze every time we set foot in a building.  Who loved basking by the rooftop pool at her place?  Not she.  What can I say, my thermostat is broken.  Besides, I was about to return to Seattle.  I wasn’t going to see this kind of weather again for a long time.  All-in-all I had a great time with her and I can’t wait till we meet again.

Now I am back in Seattle, and back to being a cancer patient.  I have already had 5 doctor appointments in the week that I’ve been home and by the time most of you read this, I will be on the operating table for reconstruction surgery, which by no means will be the last one.  It was so nice to escape and not have to be “Marit the cancer girl” for a whole month.  I felt almost normal.  There is so much more to tell about my trip but most of you probably have dropped off by now.  This was a trip where you had to step out of your comfort zone.  You had to get used to little inconveniences like nightly power cuts, running out of water half way through your shower, everyone spitting, car horns honking, eating where you knew it wasn’t clean, or having someone’s butt in your face as you sit on the bus.  But you focus more on the adventure, the beauty of the people, the sunrises across the river at our house, auto rickshaws, the aroma of jasmine in the hair of all the women, the smiles on the children’s faces when they were brave enough to give us a wave or just laughing at the crazy things that would happen.  This was a trip like no other for me, and I can’t wait to go back and see more.

First thing you see when you land in Mumbai.

Sacred city cow.

This is what a $1 billion house looks like.

Gateway to India

Typical bus ride.

Market

Our group.

This is how we ate every meal.

Girls of the school.

The girls with one of our team leaders.

Our art work.

More art work.

Handloom factory. This is how most of your clothing starts out.

Tayyem festival… at 4:30am! This is the bad shiva god.

We had our own Holi festival.

A friend dressed me up.

….and she also did henna on me.

Camel

Burj al Arab, the only 7 star hotel in the world.