India

I hardly know where to begin. So much has happened already; so many new experiences thrown our way all at once.

We’ve gone from pure exhaustion and chaos to a semblance of schedule during the past week.

First lesson of the trip: red eye flights are a bad idea with preschoolers. This is especially true when one of those preschoolers is not quite two, getting into the tantrum phase, and likes to stretch out and roll around when he sleeps. Little sleep was had.

We arrived to a rainy Frankfurt at noon Germany time and headed to our very nice hotel. After a short nap we ventured into the drizzle to find dinner. Since the kids were tired and unpredictable we settled on an outdoor burger joint very close to the hotel. Johnny tried a curry Frankfurt and the boys had cheeseburgers.

The flight to Delhi was much, much better. Both boys napped and remained very cheerful the whole flight. We experienced the oft-warned fact that Indians will come up and touch our children without asking. I expected hugs and maybe head pats. Oh no…we’re talking touching the face with both hands, picking them up, and actually kissing them. It takes a lot of getting used to.

We met our expeditor who took us through customs, helped get our bags, and introduced us to our social host, Satish, who took us to our new home. We arrived at 3 a.m. and finally got the boys to sleep around 5 a.m.

Satish took us to the embassy later that morning to have lunch, look around, and hit up the commissary. Satish and his family are Christians! We plan to visit their church either this Sunday or next.

Monday we went to the Embassy with John to get my ID badge and we got our first look at New Delhi traffic. Wow. “Lanes” are way less than a suggestion. Indians squeeze four cars where we would drive two. Tuk-tuks, motorcycles, and bicycles weighed down by two adults and 4 or more small children weave in and out of traffic without a second thought. Turn signals are replaced by honks while busses barrel through roundabouts. Right of way belongs to those with the best reflexes and loudest horns. One-way streets exist only in name.

Crossing the street as a pedestrian would probably get you arrested for attempted suicide in the U.S. My method is to timidly latch on behind a group of locals and pray I get to see the other side. So far I remain intact.

My trip to Haiti helped ease me into the feeling of perpetual stares, curious eyes taking in white skin, fair hair, and blue eyes. Still, no amount of preparation can steel you for hundreds of people stopping in their tracks to take in a young, female foreigner with her beautiful fair-featured babies. Americans have the good sense to look away when you catch them staring; Indians will hold eye contact indefinitely. Thus far we three light eye/light hairs have not ventured out without male escort. We don’t have any plans to do otherwise.

Next post:taxi drivers, markets, and hiring staff.