Mary in India

Of course, moving into a culture that is completely alien to you...well that's like 100x harder for obvious reasons. When moving to a new place, it's people and their culture that can make or break you. To me, truly understanding someone (ie. their perspective, their culture) is harder than remembering new street names, finding a good place to buy fruits, or locating the post office.

The problem with living somewhere only two or three months is that you'll never truly know the place. Many people throughout my travels have told me it takes 6 months to really "get it", and it's so true.

India for me was such a roller-coaster. From the beginning phase, or what I called "denial" phase. I mostly kept telling myself "It's fine, it'll be OK, I like it, it'll grow on me, I like it, I still like it, omg is that child pooping on the sidewalk?!" when the reality inside me was more like, "WHAT HAVE I DONE?!"

This passes however into the later "hatred" phase. Unfortunately, after about 3-4 months in India I began to hate it. It took me so much energy just to try to convince myself it was all going to be OK, that it's not "that bad" here. I grew tired of it, I gave into the hatred that was fuming inside. All along I had wanted to be angry at the men who cheat me on rickshaws, or the electrician who promises to come but never does, the waiter who continually over-charges my card, the incredibly slow and unhelpful bank clerks, the cutting in line women do, the street children opening my car door asking me for money, the list goes on and on. Nothing was easy here, everything was hard. Let me just say it once more, every single thing you do here...is INCREDIBLY difficult.

It was during this hatred phase that Remi and I took our well earned vacation from India in December. We'd officially been living here for 4 months when we left. We had a wonderful Christmas vacation in Tokyo and then back home to California, which really lifted our spirits. While home we both spewed opinions on India, quick to say what was wrong, quick to tell long amazingly frustrating stories to our families. Comments like "Wow I can't believe you guys have to deal with all that" always followed. It's not that we consciously went home to destroy India's image to our family, of course not. In fact if anything we wanted to paint the picture that said, "See, we're fine, we knew what we were getting into." But somehow quite the opposite happened. When someone asks you what you think about India, it's like all your anger and frustration begins to pour from you, and you just vent it all out like a poison that was looking for escape. You can't help it.

Once back in India, strangely, we both had a renewed hope. We felt different. There was no more escaping to home, no more vacations coming up. Just many long months in India ahead of us. We accepted it, so began our "acceptance" phase. By the end of January, my attitude had greatly changed. I was working now more often with the kids at my non-profit, learning words in Marathi from the kids, and important lessons from Julia Didi about India and how to improve your experience here.

Time it seemed, was really all I needed.

I became used to India, the culture became familiar, the annoyances became not only tolerable but went almost unnoticed to me. Patience came to me without trying. It now can just exist in me, almost as a new and permanent trait. No more taking a deep breath and telling myself to relax, or "that's just how it is here". Nothing seemed to bother me any more. Sure drivers still tried to cheat me, but I wasn't having it. I was comfortable now with yelling at a rickshaw driver, denying payment, or just jumping out of the rickshaw if need be. I was OK with shoving women in lines or saying, "Excuse me, I'm NEXT!" and making them move behind me. I ignore mostly all sales people even though they shadow my every move, I let them waste their time if they want. I know how to order food to get it brought to me accurately. I know when prices for fruits are too high and I know when haggling will help or when to walk away. I know how to get in and out of my little food market with ease. What once was a big ordeal, taking nearly 40 minutes, now takes me 15-20 minutes. I know how to ignore the women and children touching me, asking for money, and I lock my doors as reflex so they can't be opened. I on occasion do the "Indian head bobble" when speaking to other Indians and say "Ha" more often than I say "Yeah". I feel comfortable with my Indian wardrobe here, so comfortable in fact that even though I'm sweating in 100 degree heat, I don't complain. Eyes still follow me everywhere I go, but I've gotten used to the stares and that is something that can only happen with time.

All of these small things, all of these seemingly unimportant things are all what makes you feel comfortable in a place you call home. If you can't feel comfortable in the streets of your own town, you'll never like a place. You'll never open up to the people or the culture. You'll feel isolated, alone, and want to give up.

I realize now in these hot months of the Indian summer that I have moved beyond acceptance to a warm and fuzzy love, which you could call a "liking" phase. Yes it's true. India holds a special place in my heart. Through all the months of anger and frustrations and lots of "Why would anyone want to live here?!", I finally see India. I know sometimes I joke about my frustrations here, (it makes for an interesting read to the people back home) but when I am out in the streets of Pune, I really feel good here, I feel happiness, I feel comfort. I love watching all the shop keepers, the old men waiting at bus stops, the women in their colorful saris with babies in their arms. I love watching them as much as they love watching me. Being here is truly a unique and priceless experience, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.