The flight in, and oh wow, India We started the flight over a sea of clouds, but ran into night pretty quickly, and all we could see of eastern Europe and the Middle East were the lights of their towns and cities. The lights over India were different though; instead of appearing as one concentrated blob or as a threads spreading out from an epicenter, they were spread in patches all over the landscape. Until we reached Chennai, which looks like a monstrous orange tumor spreading past the horizon. As we got lower the layout of the neighborhoods was visible, and they wound around like any suburb of Boston or Chicago, but the lights were still orange, making the whole thing feel off. It tried to take photos, but alas my camera and airplane windows (at night) do not get along. And waxing poetic about city lights just goes to show how bad my cabin fever was. Our hosts greeted us at our hotel with flower garlands and sandalwood incense, and at 3:00am no less. We all missed breakfast the next morning and spent most of the afternoon shopping. I think some of us bought too much just because of the newness (and relative cheapness) of everything. The fabrics, colors, patterns, and feel, really are fantastically beautiful though. The air on the streets smells like rotting plant matter, humidity, and various spices that change as you walk past store, houses, and rubble. The food is soupy and spicy, and sits noticeably in your stomach. Seven of us ate at a tasty north Indian restaurant tonight, and everyone ordered something different so we could all try everything. And when I walk along the streets, besides watching my footing (the sidewalks are largely crumbling), listening for cars (there are no lanes here), dodging auto rickshaws, motorbikes, trucks and other people (only rule on the road -- the bigger object gets right of way), besides staring at the palm trees, rundown buildings, signs in round curving script I can't read, I think about the infrastructure (I blame my father). I want to tear this city to pieces and see where there electricity comes from, where does their sewage go, where do the minerals for concrete and asphalt, the water and the food come from? Those thoughts haven't gotten very far though. When I don't pay attention to my feet the potholes bring me back without mercy. Pictures: clouds from the airplane the Chennai airport international terminal at 2:30am lunch, after being mostly eaten Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry |
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