INDIA HAPPENS.

here i am in new delhi. breakfast sitting in my belly. twisted trees making shady splotches on the wall outside my window. the plane rides were long. on the flight to germany we sat behind the babies row, that is the second row when traveling economy, and their crying and screaming combined with the impossibly stuffy hot temperature and cramped seating made sleep impossible. we arrived in frankfurt at 11:15 on the morning of the 16th. there were images of j.lo on the tv in the terminal as we waited to board for india. watching international news with a bunch of europeans and eastern indians and seeing america on tv, like we're some shining star is a real trip. glitz and glam and plastic smiles, as if everyone in america owned a lexus.

i slept on the plane to delhi missing the bollywood films and the second meal. i went to the bathroom, leaving my bags with the group as were waiting in line in customs. my first mini-culture shock was seeing the toilets. holes in the ground with a little cup for rinsing, well, you're you know what. luckily in the airport there was a second stall, with its door reading: "european" and these ones were the porceline thrones i'm used to from home. when i went to wash my hands a man appeared. a small indian man with a kind face. he pushed the faucet on for me. and then pushed the button that dispenses soap. and then he pushed the faucet on again and handed me a paper towel. i nodded and got back in line.

the guy at the currency exchange line gave laura who was ahead of me exchanged currency for her measly $15 american. i was next and i handed him the little money i had, $35. he said, "no sir, nothing under a hundred." and he shooed me away. moments like these are called "indian moments" by cohdi's dad, who greeted our flight. the people here are unpredictable, schedules, commitments, protocall, they're all subject to change on whim. the drive to the hostel was like mr. toad's wild ride. tail-gating is commonplace. we rode the back of several three-wheeled taxis before they either moved or sped up. there was a bus driving in the opposite direction on our one-way street, the driver swerved to avoid colliding with us, but kept on driving the wrong way. people take "short cuts" all the time, gene (cohdi's dad) says, the cops don't mind unless you hit someone.

he checked into our hostel and showered and brushed teeth. cohdi and i wrote in our journals next to eachother, he in his rock-hard single bed and me in mine. i don't mind the beds here, i like em firm anyhow.

this morning i awoke to the sounds of birds, and some one outside sweeping, and motorbikes zooming by, and conversations in hindi, all outside our bedroom window. outside we walked to meet cohdi's dad for breakfast. we stopped only for chai, and to pose with some smiling indian women who wanted to take our picture.

cohdi's dad works for the international school and walking into his apartment (owned by the embassy, for teachers to live in) it was like walking back into the usa for a bit. the whole world changed while we ate fruit and quiche and chatted about george bush and stretched in the living room discussing globalization.

today is still young. it's 11:45am on tuesday feb. 17th. day 1. who knows what we'll do. i think the plan is to go exploring. see what we find. gene has SKYPE a web-based phone system, so i called home, but missed my family. weird to think that right now it's yesterday there, that it's night and not day, that i'm somewhere in their future.

more to come. much much more.