Into Decadence

Aug 31

A decade and a half ago, when I first arrived in India, it took nearly 3 hours to get through immigration and customs and get out of the airport somewhere around 2 am.  I was quickly whisked away in a small van with a small handful of other weary travelers, winding our way through the darkened, quiet streets of Chennai.  We were housed in small, bare cement rooms at the back of a school with a simple cot and bucket for a bath.  That was my initial introduction to India. 

So, of course, I returned. Over and over and over again.  I developed skills I never knew I would need, from taking bucket baths, to becoming adept at squat toilets, to haggling autorickshaw prices, to sleeping on trains without letting go of my luggage, to knowing when to just let people take care of you and not feel guilty about it.  I have stayed at people’s homes, slept in school health rooms, had my own apartment, stayed in hotel rooms that might have appeared in Stephen King novels, lived in college dorms and come to expect that I would be taking a lot of cold showers.  Always, however, people have been kind, supportive and accommodating and even when I was standing on a train platform in drizzling rain not knowing whether I actually had an official ticket and certainly having no other place to go if I didn’t, a helpful friend was always just a phone call away.

Half a month ago I once again arrived in India, flying through Delhi for a quick overnight stop in Kolkata.  I was a little amazed how easily I passed through the Delhi airport, and felt comfortable since I’ve passed through many times before.  In Kolkata, it was a pretty quick trip through immigration and grabbing my bags to meet a driver outside baggage claim to head off to a lovely little hotel.  Nice, warm shower.  Free breakfast (mixed India/American style).  After a day of meeting and getting oriented, I flew off to Agartala, my final stop.

Once again, a quick airport stop.  Picked up by my host, with flowers, and to a lovely pod-style hotel (with massage shower).  I was beginning to wonder if I was in the same India I had visited before.  My host institution has been very generous about taking care of me.  My second day here, we took a day-long tourist trip with driver and guide.  I was assigned a young man as my ‘caretaker.’  Hotel has free breakfast.  I have lunch at my host institution with the young artists I am here to work with.  There is a driver who picks me up and drops me off each day and has been available to take me around town for needed errands and little visitations.  I feel as though I have moved into a little bit of a decadent life-style. All my experiences have been inspiring and engaging, but now I feel that I’ve won some kind of leisure lottery.  Shouldn’t I be working hard to deserve this?

Despite winging my way more than halfway across the world, it feels as though I’ve simply come to my ‘second’ (or maybe third of fourth, if you know my history) home and jumped right into my ‘normal’ life here. Oh, and with advances in technology, it’s almost as if you’re just down the block from family and friends.  So easy to text, write and call.  Ah, the days gone by when you needed to go find a local internet café or even more ‘barbaric,’ a shop for making long distance calls!

Hardly feels like you’re really on a travel adventure anymore…except when you step out onto the street and share the footpath with a cow.