Hi everyone!
I made it to my final destination, Yavatmal Maharashtra, India.
Luckily, I made it here with only one small hiccup. Once I landed in Mumbai that's when I buckled down and focused, this was the real beginning of my adventure that I've waited to long for. It's about 10pm when I land, and India is dark and rainy. Instead of the walkway from the airplane to the airport, I am hit with the humidity of outside. I walk down the steep, metal stairs, following the crowd unsure, confused and scared already. Upon arrival to the building, I come to customs. When I arrive at the counter, the Indian man with a thick black moustache and the beige uniform, wishing that he was not working asked for my address and the school I was attended. That information is hidden in my backpack. I tell him that I don't know and that I am a Rotary youth Exchange student, hoping that will suffice. He looks at me, unimpressed and waves me through.
With Part 1 cleared, I wait for Brii, the girl from St Thomas who I flew out with. This is where we would part ways. She was leaving the international port to meet with her host family, who would bring her to Jalgeon, her city near Mumbai, and I was going to the domestic port, where I was catch another plane to Nagpur, India's most central city. We hugged, and said our goodbyes and good lucks and parted ways.
Unto Part 2.
I followed the signs saying "Domestic terminal". I was told by my YEO via an email two weeks ago that I would catch a bus that would transfer me over to the Domestic terminal. I asked every single worker along the way just to make sure I was on the right track. Most of which didn't understand my English, or were too tired to give a crap. After picking up my bags, I fortunately made it to the bus terminal. I boarded, looked around and found the nearest two free seats. My heart was pounding in fear that a man would sit next to me. All the books and articles I've read, all the people I've talked to say to be careful and alert when alone and of men. Luckily a woman sits next to me.
When I reached the domestic port, another wave of hard rain was coming down. I gathered my bags as quickly as possible and walked into the building. It was quiet. Domestic flights don't running until 6am, and it's just 11:30pm. I caustiously walk through the port and see guards reach for their guns. Followed my men screaming orders to each other with plastic guns. I am scared and I am confused. A man in a suit smiles at me and assures me that they were "just having a drill". Exhausted, confused, gross, and alone. And this is how India greets me.
The moment passed, and I walk in. The counters are empty, and passengers like me will wait for hours until they can check their luggage. I find my airline, asking if I was in the right place the entire time. So I had about 5 hours to kill until my airline was open. I interlocked my legs with my luggage, and hugged my backpack and dozed in and out of consciousness, since anxiety and excitement wouldn't let me sleep properly.
Finally, the moment comes when I can start doing something. I check my bags, and walk through to the waiting area. I see a bunch of nicely dressed people. Higher ups flying out on business trips, rich families taking a vacation. A quick hour and a half ride and I arrive in Nagpur. While waiting for my bags, I see many people waiting on the other side of the gate. Three people stick out in particular. They stand away form the crowd. I see a girl my age wave at me excitedly. This must be my 16 year old host sister, Mahek who I've been chatting with a little bit online.
I walk up to them, my host dad, Jallaludin gives me flowers upon arrival, my YEO Jagdish is there to make sure I'm safe, alive and well. Mahek's presence calms me. They lead me to the car, where a man is sitting in the drivers seat. They have their own chauffeur?! The air conditioning on the car feels good on my body that has sweating underneath my wool- polyester mix Rotary blazer.
I had been in India for about eight hours. My very first impressions of India is that…
India is crazy.
It’s just so different than London and Canada. The first thing I noticed after the weather and the lack of stoplights. There aren’t any in Yavatmal. Actually, that’s a lie. There is a set of stop lights near my house, but they only work sometimes. Two way traffic isn’t controlled, and most of the time it’s on the size of a one way street. Scooters and mopeds are everywhere, since they are so convenient in this cramped, small street country. Scooters can be used as a family vehicle. I’ve seen four people – Mom, dad and two children on one, with no helmets. The next surprising thing I see are animals. Cows, dogs and goats mostly with the odd herd of pigs. They are all stray and walk where they please.
My first impression was from 30 minutes of consciousness in the car ride to Yavatmal. Now that I was in the company of my host dad and sister, I finally relaxed in the back of the car which lead to me passing out from exhaustion. I didn’t spend much time outside of my first day. I didn’t really spend that much time awake on my first day, actually. I fell asleep in the car ride from the airport, and after briefly meeting my host mom and brother I passed out again, which was my biggest mistake. I slept from 1pm – 8pm. I good seven hours, which my body took as sleeping from 3am – 10am EST.
I made it to my final destination, Yavatmal Maharashtra, India.
Luckily, I made it here with only one small hiccup. Once I landed in Mumbai that's when I buckled down and focused, this was the real beginning of my adventure that I've waited to long for. It's about 10pm when I land, and India is dark and rainy. Instead of the walkway from the airplane to the airport, I am hit with the humidity of outside. I walk down the steep, metal stairs, following the crowd unsure, confused and scared already. Upon arrival to the building, I come to customs. When I arrive at the counter, the Indian man with a thick black moustache and the beige uniform, wishing that he was not working asked for my address and the school I was attended. That information is hidden in my backpack. I tell him that I don't know and that I am a Rotary youth Exchange student, hoping that will suffice. He looks at me, unimpressed and waves me through.
With Part 1 cleared, I wait for Brii, the girl from St Thomas who I flew out with. This is where we would part ways. She was leaving the international port to meet with her host family, who would bring her to Jalgeon, her city near Mumbai, and I was going to the domestic port, where I was catch another plane to Nagpur, India's most central city. We hugged, and said our goodbyes and good lucks and parted ways.
Unto Part 2.
I followed the signs saying "Domestic terminal". I was told by my YEO via an email two weeks ago that I would catch a bus that would transfer me over to the Domestic terminal. I asked every single worker along the way just to make sure I was on the right track. Most of which didn't understand my English, or were too tired to give a crap. After picking up my bags, I fortunately made it to the bus terminal. I boarded, looked around and found the nearest two free seats. My heart was pounding in fear that a man would sit next to me. All the books and articles I've read, all the people I've talked to say to be careful and alert when alone and of men. Luckily a woman sits next to me.
When I reached the domestic port, another wave of hard rain was coming down. I gathered my bags as quickly as possible and walked into the building. It was quiet. Domestic flights don't running until 6am, and it's just 11:30pm. I caustiously walk through the port and see guards reach for their guns. Followed my men screaming orders to each other with plastic guns. I am scared and I am confused. A man in a suit smiles at me and assures me that they were "just having a drill". Exhausted, confused, gross, and alone. And this is how India greets me.
The moment passed, and I walk in. The counters are empty, and passengers like me will wait for hours until they can check their luggage. I find my airline, asking if I was in the right place the entire time. So I had about 5 hours to kill until my airline was open. I interlocked my legs with my luggage, and hugged my backpack and dozed in and out of consciousness, since anxiety and excitement wouldn't let me sleep properly.
Finally, the moment comes when I can start doing something. I check my bags, and walk through to the waiting area. I see a bunch of nicely dressed people. Higher ups flying out on business trips, rich families taking a vacation. A quick hour and a half ride and I arrive in Nagpur. While waiting for my bags, I see many people waiting on the other side of the gate. Three people stick out in particular. They stand away form the crowd. I see a girl my age wave at me excitedly. This must be my 16 year old host sister, Mahek who I've been chatting with a little bit online.
I walk up to them, my host dad, Jallaludin gives me flowers upon arrival, my YEO Jagdish is there to make sure I'm safe, alive and well. Mahek's presence calms me. They lead me to the car, where a man is sitting in the drivers seat. They have their own chauffeur?! The air conditioning on the car feels good on my body that has sweating underneath my wool- polyester mix Rotary blazer.
In case you don't know the geography of India. Yavatmal is 160km south of Nagpur.
I had been in India for about eight hours. My very first impressions of India is that…
India is crazy.
It’s just so different than London and Canada. The first thing I noticed after the weather and the lack of stoplights. There aren’t any in Yavatmal. Actually, that’s a lie. There is a set of stop lights near my house, but they only work sometimes. Two way traffic isn’t controlled, and most of the time it’s on the size of a one way street. Scooters and mopeds are everywhere, since they are so convenient in this cramped, small street country. Scooters can be used as a family vehicle. I’ve seen four people – Mom, dad and two children on one, with no helmets. The next surprising thing I see are animals. Cows, dogs and goats mostly with the odd herd of pigs. They are all stray and walk where they please.
Just a herd of cows walking on the road. Whatever.
My first impression was from 30 minutes of consciousness in the car ride to Yavatmal. Now that I was in the company of my host dad and sister, I finally relaxed in the back of the car which lead to me passing out from exhaustion. I didn’t spend much time outside of my first day. I didn’t really spend that much time awake on my first day, actually. I fell asleep in the car ride from the airport, and after briefly meeting my host mom and brother I passed out again, which was my biggest mistake. I slept from 1pm – 8pm. I good seven hours, which my body took as sleeping from 3am – 10am EST.
When I woke up at 8pm, I was pleased to know that dinner had not been served yet. (Oh yeah, they eat their meals later then we do. I read that somewhere...) This gave me the opportunity to get to know my new family better. My host dad is an active member in my sponsoring Rotary club and his family owns a clothing shop, a newspaper factory and a cotton factory. My host mom is a housewife, my host sister, Mahek is sixteen and she’s going to just outside of Chicago for her exchange in a couple of weeks. And I'm a big sister for the first time. I have an extremely shy host brother, Janil who's seven. I learn that my family is part of a smaller branch of Muslim and were confused when I told them that I was raised a Christian, even though my surname is a Muslim one. (I see what they were saying about religion playing an important role. And Khan is a Muslim last name? Last names actually mean things here?) They are non-veg, I am not to talk to boys and that these people are my family. I'm told to call my host parents mama and papa, and that I should treat them as I would my Canadian family.
What a great welcome to their - I mean my household.
My Host Family
After dinner and first night questions, I tried to sleep again, it didn’t work at all. Thank you eight hour nap for destroying my chances of sleeping tonight. Even if I didn’t have a thousand thoughts rushing through my mind, my room is upstairs in the very centre of the house with no windows to outside, and has wooden panels with no air conditioning, just a ceiling fan. In other words, there is NO air circulation. I have a cold sweat. My back is hot and sticking to my extremely thin mattress, and the rest of me in clammy with the fan blowing hot air at me. It’s a rough night. Through my sleepless night, I think of all the things I have encountered in my first day. I know how different everything is, but I don’t. This is just the beginning of realizing how different everything is. 
Iz my room.
Iz my room from another angle. The open closest door leads to my own bathroom, and that window isn't to outside, it's to the next room. A little bit unnecessary, but pretty neat!
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