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Forgive my typos, this is all created on a tiny Treo keyboard. Enjoy!
India presents itself to the onlooker as the most bizarre, disorganized place. It amazes me that despite its barely functional operations, that it does miraculously operate!!
People live in a variety if conditions ranging from having serving staff, to you’d-be-lucky-if-you-could-even-be serving staff. The lower you are on the social totem poll, the more likely you are to live under a piece of corrugated metal beneath a tree and call the side of the road your bathroom. The traffic flow is pure insanity yet miraculously, I have yet to see an accident happen. The idea of a line up where one courteously stands behind the last person waiting is a total anomaly. Rather, folks push, shove and pretty much catapult themselves or the smallest person in their family of 19 to the front of any crowd.
thankfully, I’m starting to get the hang of ‘holding my own’, and less and less am I being left the victim of ‘last in line’ (or last in stampeding heard). Fortunately I tower over most of the Indian population, so the fear of being trampled isn’t quite so real for me.
But there are some things I can’t seem to get over, like the leer of some Indian men that don’t think staring from a two foot distance is imposing. Or groups of men that will run up next to you in a shot while his buddy snaps a picture of you (Brittany I feel your pain!). But beyond the filth and squawler that I often find myself sleeping or showering in, the hardest cultural differences that I struggle to get over is the impedance of personal space (in a continent where there are so many people, personal space is just not a concept), and hoarking!!!!!! Ugh! As I sit here in the airport waiting for my flight there is a symphony of phlem being corralled behind me. It seriously drives me nuts, yet no amount of nasty glares will stop this hoark monster from calling up all the boogers he can into the back of his throat and spitting them out. I’m grossed out beyond imagine. But this is India, not silicon valley, and so it goes.
So with that same patient spirit of adventure, I’m off now to kathmandu, on Cosmic Air. The level of professionalism and quality of this airline is strangely akin to some of the scary local buses I’ve taken (and surprisingly lived through). Its the sort of airline where you might find chickens running about freely in the back of the cabin, and three kids and a small sheep might occupy one seat. My boarding pass is nothing but a bunch of numbers scribbled in pen on what looks like an outdated brochure someone fished out of the garbage. I’m truly amazed that such companies exist and are able to pass any such international standards that would enable them to send otherwise unsuspecting people into the stratosphere. Much like the way traffic flows here, it simply amazes me.
But, its a cheap flight and I needed to head north today, so here I am, braving the trip. If you don’t hear from me again, no doubt this flying tuna can has taken a nose dive into the side of a mountain. Sadly, there will be no more silly posts, but at least there will be one less hoarker in the world!
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