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| Delhi Airport--Customs |
As I am writing my first official blog entry for India, I actually do not have any Internet access. I am writing via Microsoft word and going to post this whenever I go downstairs to the lobby and buy Internet. I think the Internet if free—at least for my fellow friend and I. But I think my program pays about 100 Rs, which is 100 rupees.
The plane ride to India was an experience. The plane served two meals: for dinner I had a vegetarian Indian dish which was fairly good, and for breakfast I had the option of an Indian dish, but chose eggs instead. I watched moves, played solitaire, and sat next to a handsome young man. A girl behind my seat relayed to me that she was returning to India for a second semester of teaching English. She said, of all the things she has learned most about India, she has learned to be patient because traffic is slow and people don’t commit to exact time as much as westerners do.
India…My friend and I arrived late last night, at around 10 pm Indian time. When we first stepped of the plane, it did not appear we were half way around the globe in another “world”—except all the airport workers were Indian (but hey it could be NYC.) My friend and I decided our first stop in the airport had to be the restrooms. We had just come off a 15-hour flight and both of us were dying to brush our teeth. However, we never ended up brushing our teeth in the bathroom because we were so dumfounded by the toilets in the bathroom. Walking into the ladies restroom, everything appeared “American-normal.” There were six stalls and sinks. I opened a stall, got all my luggage in with me and turned around to…a porcelain-covered hole in the ground. Literally. At first I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to squat like I would in the middle of the woods, or sit right down on the hole. (The hole was raised a bit thanks to the bathroom being two basic steps. One step when I entered, a second step that was the hole.)
After I relieved my self, my friend and I went to baggage. We had to go through customs first, which was weird but a lot easier than I expected. Then we walked passed a huge duty free store and went to get our luggage—pretty easy as well. Now we just needed to find the person who was to be meeting us. It took us about 30 minutes. Once we finally found our man he told us to wait at a seating area, because he was waiting for another IES student to arrive. I have no idea what this guy’s name was—the only words he said to us were a couple of nods and grunts of acknowledgments.
As we waited people all around stared at us like we were animals at a zoo. I noticed two things right away. 1) Indian people appeared to be a slim culture. I did not see in heavyset people in the airport, except for one person. 2) Instead of using the word “Exit” to connote a doorway to the outside, the airport said “Way out.”
The third IES student finally arrived and our IES man took us outside to get our car. Outside still didn’t seem too different from America, except that everyone was Indian. There were some vending machines of American soft drinks and American hot dogs on the curb. Then our IES man took us into the street (not the curb) where we waited maybe 30 minutes for our transportation. It was about 49 degrees out, so my friend and I coming from upstate New York were quite comfortable. However, Indian people kept walking by us in full-face mask and gloves. As my friend said, “It looks like they’re dressed for the Alps.” When our car finally arrived, we put all our luggage in and drove about an hour to our hotel. The hour passed pretty quickly because I was looking at the window at India! But still, this place called Delhi could have been a part of NYC.
When we got to the hotel, our IES man helped the three of us check in and get to our rooms. A hotel worker carried our bags up to the room my friend and I were sharing. We didn’t have any rupees yet and weren’t sure how to tip him. Finally we both gave him a dollar, a small tip to us—a small fortune to the hotel worker. In the hotel room, my friend any I watched an American movie with Morgan Friedman as we attempted to fall asleep. It was 1 am in India. This morning, we awoke to a bunch of noise outside our room, which would be virtually unheard of on the 3rd floor of most American hotels. It literally sounded like a bunch of Indian men had gathered chairs and were sitting in front of our door having a “good ole time.” I didn’t not open the door so I have no idea what was really going on.
Well, that’s all I have at the moment.
Xoxo,
Anna
