मैं हूँ ना

After a two flights, one nearly 10 hours and one nearly eight, je suis la! It took a long time to get the bags all loaded off the plane, but mine wasn't there. On the plane, I mean. So I registered with the young man at the desk, after which I suggested that he give me his phone number, and I could call him and he could show me the sites of Delhi. As it turns out, I did nothing less than proposition him.

I never called him.

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We, myself and the 11 other girls and 2 boys (!) stayed at an ashram - read hostel-meets-religious-sanctuary - for the first week or so. The photo taken above is of a small marble shrine draped in marigolds. Beauty.

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A member of our group turned 22 the day before yesterday. Isaac's host family had a party and invited us as our family is related to theirs. Dinner is served very late here, 8:30 dinner being on the early side. Tummies grumbling, we foreign students sat patiently, our families grinning at us with an expectancy which indicated that we were expected to respond to something they had just said in Hindi. Ummm...

Dinner was served close to 9:30, and was a battle of balancing politeness and avoiding stomach-explosion incidents. The Indian sense of hospitality involves offering- vehemently- food to wayward and unsuspecting travelers in endless quantities. Finally (finally!) it was cake time. After blowing out the candles (which had to be shielded from the constantly whirring fans) and singing happy birthday we were introduced to a strange, exotic, hilarious/excruciating new birthday tradition. Apparently usually only inflicted on young children (this was obviously an exception), every adult cuts off small pieces of cake and hand feeds them to the birthday-girl or -boy. Not only does each person hand feed the birthday boy (in this case), but they end up feeding him multiple pieces in an attempt to get the “perfect” picture, the feeder’s hands poised just out of reach of his mouth with him unsure of whether to go for the bite, or to sit there, mouth open, half full of half-eaten cake, waiting for the photo-op, and associated torture, to pass. Thank goodness for birthdays and culture shock…

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Today we learned the words for beautiful (sundar) and dirty (ghunda). I proceeded to proclaim to the class that I was a dirty girl.

Love from India...