Tuesday, June 21, 2011



Waking up in India...

Horns blaring. The blazing sun billowing through the small window. Loud footsteps in the hallway. The whizzing of the barely-operating air conditioner. The smell of food mixed with car exhaust hung like a cloud in the air. And yet, there was a peaceful quality that is hard to describe.
The street was alive by the time we ventured out. Cars whirred by in a speeding blur. Beggars bombarded me. My pale skin and way of dress stuck out like an eye sore. I stood alongside the dusty road as the teenage boy in barefeet flagged a cab. The heat was almost unbearable. It was only 10 a.m. The shower I took that morning proved useless. I was wet again in my own sweat. The car fumes were suffocating. I had difficulty breathing. I had never experienced this before. I asked myself, "How do these people do this everyday?" Did the locals think I was crazy? That I didn't belong here? At that moment, I questioned if I had made a mistake by coming.
I was far away from home... 

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