The first day of the trip consisted almost solely of sitting in an airborne vessel or, worse, simply sitting. Our first flight was from the SLC airport to Chicago - a very quick flight (or it seemed so at the time). Our plane encountered some technical difficulties once we landed though, and we all ended up sitting for two hours on the tarmac. That made us late for our flight from Chicago to New Delhi, but luckily our group was so large that they held the plane for us - though we felt awful about holding up the other passengers, so we ran through the Chicago airport to our gate. Running through a ridiculously large airport with backpacks on was sort of an adventure, but I would be fine never doing it again. Once we boarded, I had 18 hours with which to experience my first transatlantic flight. (Also the longest commercial flight offered in the world). It was dreadful really. I sat next to Sonora and Owens and Cecily. Take that as you will. I did however watch The Men Who Stare At Goats, and it was pretty fabulous. I recommend.
The flight was long, and I hardly slept. The plane ride was, in its defense, not an exercise in amusement, simply a mean to an end, and what an end it was. After everyone had collected their baggage and gone to the bathroom and changed their money (good god, we lost approximately 2,000 dollars from some cheats at the airport-I was lucky, and didn't go to the money changers that were sneakily charging people, but some children lost quite a chunk) we all piled into taxis and off we went through the streets of Delhi, to our hotel The Tara Palace.
I know everything I say from here on out will be the utmost in ridiculous clichés, but, as a friend once told me, clichés have become cliché for a reason.
Stepping out of the air-conditioned plane, the cool (for Delhi) night air seemed almost stifling. Though I became accustomed to it (and even enjoyed it) quite quickly, there was an awful lot of bitching from others in the group. *cough* Eric and Carl *cough* We snaked our way out of the airport, finding it necessary to form a double- or single-file line because of the sheer number of people. This was not average airport crowding. There were seas of people, and (much more pleasing to my eyes at least, no offense, but I miss family) they were all brown. As our group quickly got used to, everyone in eyesight, was staring (well, most of our group accepted it. Winter still threatened to punch people far into the trip, if they stared too much or for too long). I couldn't blame them, I mean. We were quite a sight: 24 white people, with hefty baggage trouping around in single file. I laughed at us a few times myself. What a motley crew we made.
Into the taxis we went. A note about 'Indian' cars (cars in India, dunno where they were made, so): they look very small and cramped, but inside are quite spacious. So I know it's very possible to fit eight or ten people into a seemingly four person car. And we saw that a lot, participating only a few times. In my taxi was Marcy (my new bffsie, I love that girl), Cecily (she called shotgun, it was terrible), and Eric. I somehow got stuck in the middle (not somehow; our driver almost left Eric, who was running around making sure every student was accounted for, so he had to run and jump into the side seat), but I encroached on Eric's side of the car and looked out his window. It was...beautiful. Not in the "lovely looking" sort of sense, but. Well, it was dark so it was incredibly difficult to see (legally blind and what not) and the pollution was so thick in the air that there was a permanent fog. But that added to the look of the place. Speeding down the road (at least 100 km/h, and in Indian traffic that is no small feat) I caught sight of buildings built the way I love - square, stacked, dilapidated concrete buildings set close to incredibly old, beautifully constructed (Indian architecture is possibly my favorite, ever) temples, minarets were everywhere, and in the skyline rectangular and spire-like (is that how you would describe the top of buildings such as the Taj Mahal? If not, then just imagine the top of the Taj Mahal) shadows dominated above the palm trees. Even in the dark, I could see the greenness surrounding us.
As we drove past the ambassadorial/government streets (those were the first we passed in order to get to our hotel) the sweet smell of blooming flowers and fruit mixed with the humidity and thickness of pollution. It was (despite what you might think after that botched description) delightful, and somehow fresh. Very sweet. Though it didn't last long. Quickly we passed the perfectly manicured mansions of foreign diplomats, and got on to the real city. Here, the smell of sewers and spices and fruits intermingled, in a not immediately pleasant aroma. But once you adjust to it, it's quite alright. It is the smell of people and living and working and food.
Well, I know this is too long to be pleasant light reading, but. Alas. They all sort of come out in a kajumble, memories do. I have a college interview, so more later. But also wish me luck! Belated luck though it will be once you read this..whatever.
Life goes on the same, you bury the pain and hold onto love ~ Somewhere Else by Travis
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