June 23, 2010
I woke up at 9, which was surprising because normally, the rules of jetlag stated that I would be up at 4 in the morning (like my mother). Breakfast was mango shake and toast, which was eaten on the table. The kitchen area did not have air-conditioning, and the temperature was well over 100º. The temperature dictated that a shower would be necessary, so a shower I took after breakfast. Note to all that most bathrooms in India do not have showers; instead, they have a big bucket filled with water, and a smaller hand-sized bucket used to pour water on yourself. That’s why showers in India tend to be actually five minutes long, whereas in the US, a “five” minute shower is actually a ten minute shower. Afterwards came more AP US History work (I had a few assignments due Friday). By this time, it was about 11:30 pm in New Jersey, so my brother, mother, and I were all in the throes of jetlag. We weren’t sleepy, more lethargic, but if we had slept, then the night’s sleep would be ruined. Then began the crazy activities that people do to keep themselves awake. We ate sour worms, listened to Lady Gaga and Taio Cruz, and played various card games to ensure that sleep wouldn’t arrive before we were ready to sleep (afternoon-ish). By the time my aunt and grandfather returned from a doctor’s appointment, we were ready for lunch. My favorite foods made an appearance at the table: rice, kidney beans, and okra. Doesn’t sound very delicious in English, but it was extremely scrumptious. Speaking of English, I was not speaking much of it. My cousin sister was more comfortable speaking in Hindi, and it was a chance for me to practice as well. Already my Hindi had improved-the halting Hindi that I had used last night gave way to a more fluid Hindi, mixed with English (and in my head, sometimes mixed with Spanish).
Anyway, after lunch, came SLEEP! Only two hours, but it was magnificent. My cousin brother had returned from his tutoring class, so with him we made the typical jokes that adolescents make and listened to Linkin Park, all while he attempted to hack into the Wi-Fi so I could get internet. Between APUSH-ing and blogging, my day was spent. The power just went off (happens when it gets too hot), so this blog post will be ending.
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Plane Ride/Landing in India
June 23
Today was the first full day that we spent in India, mostly spent inside due to the fact that it was 44ºC, which is over 100º F. But back to the beginning.
Our fourteen hour flight to India was uneventful. We sat in row 20 J,K,L, which was towards the beginning of the economy class section, so the food was served quite quickly. The dinner was pasta with some sort of chicken covered in cheese, served with yogurt. Yogurt makes sense to serve if the entrée is Indian food, but with pasta? Bad choice, and unfortunately a waste of food. With dinner began my movie-watching marathon, which began with the movie Leap Year, a complete chick flick and clichéd movie. But with junior year having just ended, it was this exact mind-numbing movie that I needed to see. After Leap Year, I decided to complete the Bourne Identity, which I had started at a party. The violence and suspense became slightly overwhelming, and so I quickly exited that movie, and I decided to watch Legally Blonde. Possibly the most hilarious movie I have seen a long time, the stereotypes that Reese Witherspoon debunked were quite widely believed as being true. Still, a great movie with a moral that has been used in umpteen movies, “Hard work and determination lead to success.” After Legally Blonde came Cold Case, a CSI-esque show that attempted to solve cases that had never been closed due to a lack of evidence.
I then attempted to sleep. Attempted is the true word for my journey into the dream world. Four hours of tossing and turning resulted in an hour of sleep, after which the tossing and turning began again. With my laptop and textbook underneath the seat in front of me, taking up the oh-so-precious leg room in front of me. After giving up the fight with sleep, I opened up my AP US History textbook to take notes on the Revolutionary War. Reading three pages took the remaining energy that my sleepless body had; while putting the book away, the breakfast service came around. Why anyone would want to eat breakfast was beyond me, but realizing my hunger as the plate slid in front of me, I ate the pineapple and melon and croissant. While eating I watched my absolute favorite movie, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (which I had seen seven times before). Unfortunately, watching it for the 8th time on a sleepless journey was too much, and I resorted to playing FreeCell. Suprisingly, it was this game that I enjoyed out of all the movies I had watched. It was challenging (I only won three out of the ten games that I played), which made it quite addicting. To the surprise of my mother and brother, I became quite engrossed in the game, hunching over in my seat, muttering to myself in hopes of finding a move that would lead me to another move and another move that would instantly win the game for me. While playing the game, the plane suddenly landed. Choppy landing, but it was great to be back.
Walking off the plane, the heat and humidity immediately hit my face. The captain had said the temperature was about 111º F-temperatures that I hadn’t seen, since, well the last time I had visited India. Immigration was a breeze, but it was the baggage claim that took the longest time. This wasn’t the first time this had happened either. Every time we traveled anywhere, our bags would be the one of the last ones out. After recognizing and lifting all four bags from the baggage carousel, we headed out to the waiting area. My aunt and cousin hadn’t reached, so we sat and waited, my brother and I playing with a little girl that we had met on the flight. She was an adorable girl, with brown hair, wide brown eyes, and a doll that seemed equivalent to that special blanket all children had. I had outgrown the blanket stage; I now had a special jacket that (much to the chagrin of my mother) I had insisted on wearing on the plane. After ten minutes of waiting, we called my aunt and then headed outside, as she had said that she was just arriving. The heat was not too unbearable, but I suppose that was because it was the night. Tomorrow would be the real test. When my aunt and the taxi arrived, we found out that the trunk did not have enough space to hold all four bags. Therefore, three of the bags would be placed on the roof of the bag. Throughout the entire ride, I was conscious of every bump in the road, hoping that it wouldn’t dislodge the suitcases (one of which was mine). Even at 9:30, the roads in India were crowded. The journey took half an hour, during which I mostly kept my mouth shut, both feeling shy and taking on the surroundings.
It was my grandfather who opened the door when we reached home, with my cousin peeking out behind him. It was late, and we were all jetlagged, so we quickly changed into our pajamas and sat in one room, unpacking the suitcase that had all the gifts for my cousins. For my cousin brother, who was a mere six months older than me but never failed to mention it, we had bought some clothes; for my cousin sister (who was 10) we bought a fashion design book and mannequin that could be outfitted with various outfits. I zoned out towards the end of the conversation, reading Devlin’s Diary by Christi Phillips and heading towards the dream world.
Today was the first full day that we spent in India, mostly spent inside due to the fact that it was 44ºC, which is over 100º F. But back to the beginning.
Our fourteen hour flight to India was uneventful. We sat in row 20 J,K,L, which was towards the beginning of the economy class section, so the food was served quite quickly. The dinner was pasta with some sort of chicken covered in cheese, served with yogurt. Yogurt makes sense to serve if the entrée is Indian food, but with pasta? Bad choice, and unfortunately a waste of food. With dinner began my movie-watching marathon, which began with the movie Leap Year, a complete chick flick and clichéd movie. But with junior year having just ended, it was this exact mind-numbing movie that I needed to see. After Leap Year, I decided to complete the Bourne Identity, which I had started at a party. The violence and suspense became slightly overwhelming, and so I quickly exited that movie, and I decided to watch Legally Blonde. Possibly the most hilarious movie I have seen a long time, the stereotypes that Reese Witherspoon debunked were quite widely believed as being true. Still, a great movie with a moral that has been used in umpteen movies, “Hard work and determination lead to success.” After Legally Blonde came Cold Case, a CSI-esque show that attempted to solve cases that had never been closed due to a lack of evidence.
I then attempted to sleep. Attempted is the true word for my journey into the dream world. Four hours of tossing and turning resulted in an hour of sleep, after which the tossing and turning began again. With my laptop and textbook underneath the seat in front of me, taking up the oh-so-precious leg room in front of me. After giving up the fight with sleep, I opened up my AP US History textbook to take notes on the Revolutionary War. Reading three pages took the remaining energy that my sleepless body had; while putting the book away, the breakfast service came around. Why anyone would want to eat breakfast was beyond me, but realizing my hunger as the plate slid in front of me, I ate the pineapple and melon and croissant. While eating I watched my absolute favorite movie, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (which I had seen seven times before). Unfortunately, watching it for the 8th time on a sleepless journey was too much, and I resorted to playing FreeCell. Suprisingly, it was this game that I enjoyed out of all the movies I had watched. It was challenging (I only won three out of the ten games that I played), which made it quite addicting. To the surprise of my mother and brother, I became quite engrossed in the game, hunching over in my seat, muttering to myself in hopes of finding a move that would lead me to another move and another move that would instantly win the game for me. While playing the game, the plane suddenly landed. Choppy landing, but it was great to be back.
Walking off the plane, the heat and humidity immediately hit my face. The captain had said the temperature was about 111º F-temperatures that I hadn’t seen, since, well the last time I had visited India. Immigration was a breeze, but it was the baggage claim that took the longest time. This wasn’t the first time this had happened either. Every time we traveled anywhere, our bags would be the one of the last ones out. After recognizing and lifting all four bags from the baggage carousel, we headed out to the waiting area. My aunt and cousin hadn’t reached, so we sat and waited, my brother and I playing with a little girl that we had met on the flight. She was an adorable girl, with brown hair, wide brown eyes, and a doll that seemed equivalent to that special blanket all children had. I had outgrown the blanket stage; I now had a special jacket that (much to the chagrin of my mother) I had insisted on wearing on the plane. After ten minutes of waiting, we called my aunt and then headed outside, as she had said that she was just arriving. The heat was not too unbearable, but I suppose that was because it was the night. Tomorrow would be the real test. When my aunt and the taxi arrived, we found out that the trunk did not have enough space to hold all four bags. Therefore, three of the bags would be placed on the roof of the bag. Throughout the entire ride, I was conscious of every bump in the road, hoping that it wouldn’t dislodge the suitcases (one of which was mine). Even at 9:30, the roads in India were crowded. The journey took half an hour, during which I mostly kept my mouth shut, both feeling shy and taking on the surroundings.
It was my grandfather who opened the door when we reached home, with my cousin peeking out behind him. It was late, and we were all jetlagged, so we quickly changed into our pajamas and sat in one room, unpacking the suitcase that had all the gifts for my cousins. For my cousin brother, who was a mere six months older than me but never failed to mention it, we had bought some clothes; for my cousin sister (who was 10) we bought a fashion design book and mannequin that could be outfitted with various outfits. I zoned out towards the end of the conversation, reading Devlin’s Diary by Christi Phillips and heading towards the dream world.
Waiting for the plane to take off
June 21, 2010
It’s 6:59 pm, and I’m currently sitting at gate C-108 in Newark International Airport. My brother is listening to some rap song on his iPod, while my mother is watching the growing line of people with curiosity, wondering why everyone is joining the line when no formal announcement has been made for boarding.
Our journey to India actually began at 4:30 pm today, when we left our house and entered the New Jersey Turnpike. The main artery of transportation on the East Coast, it was crowded with traffic moving at a slower pace than ususal-75 mph rather than 90 mph. The drive itself was uneventful, with my parents talking amongst themselves, and my brother and I listening to our own iPods. We reached Newark airport, where we proceeded to Terminal B, Level 4, which was designated as the International Departure Gate. There were two Continental gates (Continental Airline’s hub was in Newark, so we would be taking Continental to India), but when we asked the official which gate passengers to New Delhi, India would use. We were promptly informed that the gate was actually two levels below us, aka, where we had parked and then climbed up two sets of escalators because the sign had said that Level 4 was the International Departure gate, not Level 2.
We then climbed down the same escalators we had climbed up, and found the gate. The line was short, and so we reached the check-in kiosks, where the computer told us that we needed a Continental Representative to help us proceed through the process. While we waited, I got into a conversation with another passenger (possibly to Tel Aviv, Delhi, Mumbai or Hong Kong, as all four destinations had the same check-in queue) about the two world cup games that were played: Portugal vs DPRK and Spain vs Honduras. Portugal had complexly massacred the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea, ironically) 7-0. Six different players had scored; the best goal of the entire game? Definitely the goal that star striker Cristiano Ronaldo scored, nearly tripping over the keeper, juggling the ball on his back and head, kicking the ball deftly into the empty net, all culminating in him walking towards the camera with the million dollar smile on his face. The Spain vs Honduras game was less exciting, with the final score only being 2-0. But with Spain being the champion in my bracket, every point and every goal mattered. A Continental Representative finally arrived, and the check-in was completed, only to realize that the baggage belt was overcrowded, so we would have to wait until the baggage in front of us was put on the belt before we could leave. Thankfully we only had to wait for five minutes, and we left in search of a coffee shop. This was Newark Airport, not JFK, so there was only one option: Hudson News. We stocked up on sour gummy worms, gum, and mints, absolute essentials for any sixteen hour journey. The time was 5:45, boarding was at 7, so then we would enter the line for Security at 6:30. With my dad flying out to India a week later than we were, I spent the last few minutes talking to him, reminding him to record all the World Cup games and pleading him to not clean my room while I was gone. Last time he cleaned my room, he donated all my winter clothes (by accident) and through out my favorite issue of the New York Times magazine.
At 6:30, we trudged up the stairs, me lugging my Vera Bradley bag that had both an AP US history textbook (courtesy of the summer course I was taking) and a laptop (for the same reason and to make sure that I could update my blog whenever something interesting happened). When we reached the Security Line, we were directed to a different Security Line, which was thankfully shorter than the first. We said our last good-byes (not tearful, for this was normal-every time we went to India, our dad would always follow us a week or two later), and my brother and I attempted to touch his feet (a sign of respect in the Indian culture). Attempted was as far as we got-as soon as knee level, my dad picked us up and playfully hit us, which the security official who was checking our passports found hilarious. Security was uneventful, taking off my shoes and putting my laptop in a special container, and going through the metal detector hoping that it wouldn’t beep and I wouldn’t be subjected to additional security check in front of all the other passengers.
With security completed, all that was left was for us to go to the gate. We briefly visited the duty-free shops, as my mom wanted to see if a special face wash was available, and me, noticing DKNY’s new perfume (I love you from New York), needed to smell a sample. Of course, with my luck, there was no sample for the girl’s version of the new perfume. We went to the gate, and I opened my laptop, hoping to get in some last minute Facebook-ing, Gmail-ing, and Youtube-ing, before the flight took off. My luck was apparently terrible that day, for I couldn’t access the free Wi-fi. Not content with turning off my laptop and listening to my iPod (I could have just shared my brother’s, thereby conserving my own iPod’s battery power), I decided to type up this blog post on Microsoft Word. Passports were again checked at the gate (redundancy?) and then began the wait to board the plane. Perhaps the only interesting part of the wait was the fact that the cart driver (that transports people around various terminals) made a “beep beep” sound in order to get people to move out of the way.
Oh wait, the announcement for all passengers boarding flight 82 with service to New Delhi was just made (in both Hindi and English, of course). Time to start the 14 hour 50 minute journey.
It’s 6:59 pm, and I’m currently sitting at gate C-108 in Newark International Airport. My brother is listening to some rap song on his iPod, while my mother is watching the growing line of people with curiosity, wondering why everyone is joining the line when no formal announcement has been made for boarding.
Our journey to India actually began at 4:30 pm today, when we left our house and entered the New Jersey Turnpike. The main artery of transportation on the East Coast, it was crowded with traffic moving at a slower pace than ususal-75 mph rather than 90 mph. The drive itself was uneventful, with my parents talking amongst themselves, and my brother and I listening to our own iPods. We reached Newark airport, where we proceeded to Terminal B, Level 4, which was designated as the International Departure Gate. There were two Continental gates (Continental Airline’s hub was in Newark, so we would be taking Continental to India), but when we asked the official which gate passengers to New Delhi, India would use. We were promptly informed that the gate was actually two levels below us, aka, where we had parked and then climbed up two sets of escalators because the sign had said that Level 4 was the International Departure gate, not Level 2.
We then climbed down the same escalators we had climbed up, and found the gate. The line was short, and so we reached the check-in kiosks, where the computer told us that we needed a Continental Representative to help us proceed through the process. While we waited, I got into a conversation with another passenger (possibly to Tel Aviv, Delhi, Mumbai or Hong Kong, as all four destinations had the same check-in queue) about the two world cup games that were played: Portugal vs DPRK and Spain vs Honduras. Portugal had complexly massacred the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea, ironically) 7-0. Six different players had scored; the best goal of the entire game? Definitely the goal that star striker Cristiano Ronaldo scored, nearly tripping over the keeper, juggling the ball on his back and head, kicking the ball deftly into the empty net, all culminating in him walking towards the camera with the million dollar smile on his face. The Spain vs Honduras game was less exciting, with the final score only being 2-0. But with Spain being the champion in my bracket, every point and every goal mattered. A Continental Representative finally arrived, and the check-in was completed, only to realize that the baggage belt was overcrowded, so we would have to wait until the baggage in front of us was put on the belt before we could leave. Thankfully we only had to wait for five minutes, and we left in search of a coffee shop. This was Newark Airport, not JFK, so there was only one option: Hudson News. We stocked up on sour gummy worms, gum, and mints, absolute essentials for any sixteen hour journey. The time was 5:45, boarding was at 7, so then we would enter the line for Security at 6:30. With my dad flying out to India a week later than we were, I spent the last few minutes talking to him, reminding him to record all the World Cup games and pleading him to not clean my room while I was gone. Last time he cleaned my room, he donated all my winter clothes (by accident) and through out my favorite issue of the New York Times magazine.
At 6:30, we trudged up the stairs, me lugging my Vera Bradley bag that had both an AP US history textbook (courtesy of the summer course I was taking) and a laptop (for the same reason and to make sure that I could update my blog whenever something interesting happened). When we reached the Security Line, we were directed to a different Security Line, which was thankfully shorter than the first. We said our last good-byes (not tearful, for this was normal-every time we went to India, our dad would always follow us a week or two later), and my brother and I attempted to touch his feet (a sign of respect in the Indian culture). Attempted was as far as we got-as soon as knee level, my dad picked us up and playfully hit us, which the security official who was checking our passports found hilarious. Security was uneventful, taking off my shoes and putting my laptop in a special container, and going through the metal detector hoping that it wouldn’t beep and I wouldn’t be subjected to additional security check in front of all the other passengers.
With security completed, all that was left was for us to go to the gate. We briefly visited the duty-free shops, as my mom wanted to see if a special face wash was available, and me, noticing DKNY’s new perfume (I love you from New York), needed to smell a sample. Of course, with my luck, there was no sample for the girl’s version of the new perfume. We went to the gate, and I opened my laptop, hoping to get in some last minute Facebook-ing, Gmail-ing, and Youtube-ing, before the flight took off. My luck was apparently terrible that day, for I couldn’t access the free Wi-fi. Not content with turning off my laptop and listening to my iPod (I could have just shared my brother’s, thereby conserving my own iPod’s battery power), I decided to type up this blog post on Microsoft Word. Passports were again checked at the gate (redundancy?) and then began the wait to board the plane. Perhaps the only interesting part of the wait was the fact that the cart driver (that transports people around various terminals) made a “beep beep” sound in order to get people to move out of the way.
Oh wait, the announcement for all passengers boarding flight 82 with service to New Delhi was just made (in both Hindi and English, of course). Time to start the 14 hour 50 minute journey.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
June 20th: The day before we leave
Tomorrow, my mother, brother, and I will be leaving for India. After not having visited India in three years, tomorrow will be the first time that the myriad relatives that we have in India will be seeing us (of course, that also means that most of our time will be spent at relatives' houses, attempting to remember the names that belong with the faces). I'm excited to be returning to India. When I visited the last time, I had seen some of the improvements that had been taking place in New Delhi. With the developments completed, Delhi will be comparable to other metropolitan cities in Asia.
In addition to visiting relatives, we will be attending a marriage. I don't actually know the people getting married aside from the fact that they are from my dad's side of the family. No matter. Indian weddings often have relatives from all sides of the family, some twice and thrice removed, in attendance. Different parts of India have different wedding traditions. The last wedding I went to was my dad's sister's, so the wedding should be similar, but with it being held in a smaller town (compared to being held in a city), the expectations will be different. See, with my brother and I being raised in America, many of the relatives will be eager to see if we behave like typical Indian children are supposed to. Most Indians who have never visited America believe that children there have no boundaries, and are free to do whatever they want to do. Their ideas about America come from shows like Jersey Shore, and so they assume that kids are just as wild as Snookie. It will be my brother and I's job to debunk those beliefs, in addition to upholding the reputation of our parents, as our behavior will reflect on how our parents have done their job (in raising us).
That's it for now. It's now time for me to pack, which is probably the most difficult part of going to India. Conservative values and society along with an idea of what a girl from a "good" family should wear will make packing a long process.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)