ah the paradox that is India...

I'm currently reading Shashi Tharoor's "The Elephant, the tiger, and the Cellphone: Reflections on India in the 21st Century". It's a series of essays written within the past 6 years, and he's a fantastic writer, economist, and diplomat, but he tends to overuse "pluralist", "paradox", and "contradiction" when describing his beloved country. That said, I feel like I am currently having a full experience of the "incredible paradox of this exotic country" (said in extreme tongue in cheek) as I am couchsurfing in Gurgaon, a suburb of Delhi. There are gigantic highrise luxury apartment buildings, a road of supermalls that puts New Jersey to shame, chain stores, multiplexes, cars, IT campuses, dirt roads, superhighways, cows, donkeys, beggers, tin shacks, fancy taxis, and cycle rickshaws. Shruti (my friend from Vassar who has been living in India for the past 6 months and is about to go home to California) and I aren't quite sure what to make of this urban sprawl, but the family we're staying with is incredibly laidback and welcoming, so for the time being we're catching up, shopping, and laughing a whole lot.

A quick note on couchsurfing: It's amazing. No matter what your age or position in life, just sign up (it's free!). I've been travelling for over 3 months, and now that travelling has become more of a way of life, instead of a holiday, couchsurfing has become this fantastic way to experience homelife and familylife for short periods of time. When I was in Bangalore, the mother of the family I stayed with gave me lots of hugs, cooked me tons of food (and wouldn't let me stop eating even though I was full), baked me homemade sweets, yelled at me for not taking medicine for my sinus infection, and had me pose in photographs with the rest of the family. Basically, she sure did my own mother proud... Feeling like an extra member of the family is not at all uncommon in our couchsurfing experiences, especially in India, which is one of the most hospitable countries I've ever visited. Bouncing in and out of different cities and towns can be tiring, but I'm forever thankful to the families whom have adopted us as one of their own.

A quick note on cities: I love cities. From Pune to Bangalore to Bombay to Delhi, I absolutely love urban life. I love drinking ginger spice fizz and reading Time magazine, I love fancy restaurants, I love sidewalks, I love concerts and music, I love tiny tea stalls, I love feeling like I'm in NYC, I love running into the same people over and over, I love the guides, I love the kids selling toys, I love the beautiful fabric stores, I love the fast internet connection. The country is beautiful and the village is incredible, and some of my happiest moments have been spent outside of the city, but urban spaces are my home. It's where I'm most comfortable, most at ease, where I can strut like a wacky American feminist and feel fantastic. A city girl has much more trouble in the mountains than a country girl has in the city (in my humble opinion), so for the past week or so, I've been thriving...

That said, Delhi is unlike any other city, and I'm realizing the north is very different from the south of India. I had an awful experience yesterday, and it made me understand how the stresses of travelling and the city can really bring out the worst in me. I wanted to find an internet cafe to continue planning my whirlwind trip through Rajasthan that I'm planning on taking in a few days, and basically I spent 3 hours in 3 different rickshaws and cycle rickshaws, and didn't make it to an internet cafe. Each driver drove around asking directions to many different people, and over the course of the trip, I ended up at a Cyber Park IT campus, an apartment complex, and 3 different malls. None of my drivers spoke ANY english (a big difference between north and south) and my hindi just wasn't cutting it. Each driver tried to ask for much more money than was initially agreed upon, and by the end of each trip I was so exasperated that I started yelling "Nahin! Nahin! (no)" and refused to pay the price they asked for. Crowds gathered, people tried to translate, and 3 different times I left my driver, a little confused and underpaid. I was frustrated mainly because each driver agreed to take me to a location in which he had no idea where it was, or where he was going. So far in the north, whenever I ask someone a question in English or broken Hindi, I'm given an answer or a direction that is 90% wrong. This happened in the south, but not nearly to the extent it happens in the north (so far, at least). In NY (in my experience), people give straightforward answers and directions. If they don't know an answer, they say so. This has been one of the most difficult cultural differences for me to get used to, and I don't think it will ever stop frustrating me.

However, in retrospect, and after a conversation with my host Mona who gently explained to me that rickshaw drivers don't even know what the internet is, and they are the people who are statistically earning less than a dollar a day, I realize that much of the root of my frustration lies within me. If I could speak and learn Hindi and/or if I knew my way around the city or had thought to find out an exact address, the drivers wouldn't have driven around aimlessly for so long. Getting frustrated and angry is certainly a part of travel, and I don't think in the 3 months we've been on the road, I've gotten this ignited. It's difficult, but an important lesson to learn, and if I want to make it up north, I'm realizing that I'll have to pick up more Hindi, breathe a little bit deeper, and have A LOT more patience... It's a whole different world up here..