1/10

My journey to India began at 7am at the Boise Airport. First I took a 3-hour flight to Chicago, and then had a 4-hour layover. The flight out of Chicago was delayed an hour. The flight from Chicago to Frankfurt was 9 hours, and I had an aisle seat. The plane had TV’s for each chair. I watched Nights in Rodante, Desperate Housewives and took a nap. I was not able to sleep much and somewhere over the Atlantic my stomachache began. I arrived in Frankfurt at 7am and took a nap at my gate. Frankfurt was a strange airport, there were these signs all over that had a stick figure running to a square – I later determined that they were Exit signs, but nevertheless it bothered me for a good 3 hours. Part of the airport is a high-class mall and the other part reminded me distinctly of Ikea. I napped at my gate until an hour before boarding. Then I checked the monitor only to realize that my gate was changed. My new gate was 4.78 miles away from my old gate, and so I had no time to eat. Which is okay, because I wasn’t sure if they would speak English or if they would take my dollar bills. The flight from Frankfurt to Kolkata was my favorite. I had a window seat and the seat next to me was vacant. I was able to stretch out and I napped 6 out of the 9 hours. I was served two meals on that flight, so don’t worry, I wasn’t starving, and my stomach was still iffy. The flight arrived at Kolkata at 1am, and the airport was balmy. I was sweating after minutes of walking down the hallway. The airport seemed dusty, I can’t think of a better word to describe it. I stood in a line for immigration, in that line I made a friend, I don’t remember her name but she was from Italy and was going to be in Kolkata for two months, she was also traveling alone- we bonded over that. After passing through immigration (and receiving the first stamp in my passport) I got my bags and went through customs. Customs consisted of this little tag that I had to fill out with my name, flight number, and number of checked bags. There was a man standing by the exit saying ‘givme’. Then I met Fr. Puthumai who had me reserve a taxi for us. The taxi counter was on my side of the gate, so I had to memorize the name of where we were going and then tell the taxi man. That went well, and after a very fast taxi ride we made it to a compound like area that was under construction. Father said it was like the SWI of Kolkata. We slept from 3-6am and then took an auto rickshaw – a three-wheeled contraption with no doors that weaves in and out of traffic as though it’s was a snake. At the train station we waited for a while. I got a lot of looks, and quite a few people who were begging approached us. It is strange not knowing what people are saying, unnerving in a fundamental sort of way. We boarded the sleeping train at 7am. Fr. gave me the top bunk and I read my book for the majority of the trip. Father’s friend Pamela, met us at one of the stops and brought us food around 10am. Just before we arrived I got to see the river Ganges. The river is huge and the train tracks are actually above the river. We stood with the door open and the train going full speed looking out at the river. Once we got off of the train around 2pm, we got a taxi that took us to Raiganj. The drive was 2 hours long, and for the entire two hours I was mesmerized with our drivers ability to not kill us. The driver drove in the middle of the road, often passing large busses on what was wide enough to be a two lane street and then swerving at the last minute so as not to hit another oncoming bus. There were people sitting on top of cars, I swear there must have been 40 people on a car no larger than a jeep. People were bicycling on the road, there were rickshaws being pulled by people, there were women walking with bags balanced on their head and men leading large cows down the road. There were goats everywhere. We also saw a camel. I saw my first rice paddy and I was comforted by the green-ness of the surrounding area. After a short lunch (my stomach still not feeling so well) we arrived at SWI (social welfare institute) at 4pm. We had some coffee and then I took a nap. Dinner was a 8pm (still my stomach is not quite right), we had rice, tortillas that are not called tortillas, yellow liquid- which starts with a d, green vegetables, and fish. The fish was whole, fins, head, tail, the whole shebang. I didn’t take a fish, instead opting for the same food as my lunch, tortillas with yellow liquid. Father said my stomach has the immune system of a 4 year olds, so I should ease my way into eating. I also had some vegetables. The vegetables were green and looked like string beans, but they did not taste like them. In India (as in many places in the world) the left hand is considered to be unclean, so you eat with the right hand. There is no silverware. The left hand is used for personal hygiene. On a much nicer note, my room is very nice, with a large bed, dresser, and bathroom. I have a flush toilet, and shower and a sink. Father gave me a roll of toilet paper, which I am very excited about. The shower is just a spout on the wall, and you stand in the middle of the bathroom while the dirty water drains down a hole in the wall. My room is painted a pastel green.