Of packing, pesticides, and pagans

That's it. I have to resign myself to the fact that I was not born with the packing gene and just get over it. I'm doomed to be dragging a steamer trunk for weekend trips. And on long trips, despite having emptied out my closet into my busting bags, I will never have the right clothes with me.

Despite having started weeks ahead of time and planned and planned and planned for this trip, I sit here typing in my bra and underwear stressing out about which of my few precious clean clothes I will sacrifice to the clothing gods today. And because I've grown tired of watching them mock me from the closet, I have packed up all the (you brought what?) clothes that will never see the light of day here. My bathing suit? What I was I thinking? EVEN if I could live with being the ugly American (in more ways than one) who bared too much pool-side, exactly when did I think I'd have time to frolic in the pool? back in the suitcase you go. And shorts? Ok, well shorts was sort of a purposeful mistake. People told me that people don't wear shorts in India, but then people told me that they don't wear shorts in Paris and when I got to France there were tons of people in shorts. So, as I sweltered in the heat, I cursed myself for listening to the advice and not going with my gut. So this time, I said, "it's 100 degrees in Bangalore, I'm packing shorts." And I'd be brave enough to wear them even if I could just see ONE, JUST ONE other person wearing shorts. I'm already attracting enough attention dressed conservatively.

So I'm not finding the bugs here as bad as I thought. I haven't really been religious about putting on my insect repellent and maybe I'm feeling a little cocky because I'm taking malaria pills. (Go ahead, bite me, I dare you....) But the thing that is making me sick is the smell of the fogger that they spray everyday. Apparently, I've been missing the morning spraying. Either I get up after it's dissipated or before.

But some how, I've managed to time it so that I walk into the hotel at the exact second the spraying has completed -- at peak smell. Think of a skunk spray immediately after spraying. And I can't decide which is worse, the smell of the insecticide or the hundreds of scented candles they light in the lobby to mask the scent (good luck on that). And it doesn't seem to matter what time I return to the hotel the spraying has always just happened. Maybe my driver calls ahead to say, "we are on our way, go ahead and spray."

The problem is as I walk into the hotel I start to gag, which I'm sure is endearing me to the staff (who is already suspicious of me due to the "ugly grape incident" as we are calling it -- more on that later). I do feel bad, it really isn't commentary on them, just a low threshold gag reflex. And of course, my mind can't help race to how these people will fair 20 years from now with their daily (twice daily actually) exposure to this. If there is one thing overall that is making me glad to leave this country, it's that.

So this weekend, I did what I do on any given weekend in the US: I went to temple and I shopped. Ok so maybe I don't go to temple as much anymore in the US, but I visited at least 6 here so I think that gets me ahead in the count. I almost feel like this story is the start of a joke: So a Catholic, an agnostic, and an atheist walk into to a Hindu temple. The Catholic says, "you know maybe it's all the years of Catholic school, but I can't believe that I'm not really comfortable with the whole "idol worship thing." The agnostic says, "Well, I don't mind because I think it's all the same path to the same goal." The atheist says, "Well it's all idol worship to me. What's the difference between bowing down to pray to a wooden cross with a man hanging from it, or a closet with a roll of parchment paper in it, or a statue of Ganesha? What's the difference between lighting candles and lighting incense? And speaking of incense, the smell is killing me I can't breath let's get out of here..." ok well that last part wasn't part of the philosophical discussion but you get the picture.

As an American abroad, I'm always conscious of how I'm being perceived. I never want to be that ugly American that plants prejudice in the hearts and minds of the people I encounter. It's a lot of pressure representing an entire nation. Ryan once told me that flying was exhausting to him because he had to expend so much of his mental energy on keeping the plane in the air. I feel the same way about traveling. It takes so much energy to have the weight of an entire country on my shoulders. So in being so self conscious, it's been interesting to speculate on how I've been perceived traveling around the world.

But in India, I seem to be a genuine source of curiosity. I feel like back in the day, I probably could have gotten a job at a circus side show in India "Come see the pale skinned, balding, fat woman wearing drab clothing. She's so pale she's practically translucent!"

At the Harikrishna temple, I was choking so bad on the incense that I bolted out. My travel companions decided to stay and listen to the guide. So I had quite a long wait for them. As I stood on the walkway waiting, I cannot adequately describe the surreal experience I had.

First a group of "MBA" students gathered around me. They allegedly spoke English and yet, some how it was painful to communicate with each other. But they wanted to talk, about everything. As we talked, more of their class came until I was basically holding court of a group of about 40 people. I was running out of conversation (or maybe just too exhausted to keep it up) but that was fine because they were just as content to stand and stare at me. That was so awkward, I was forced to come up with more small talk. Thank god when their chaperone called them to move on. But right when they left, a man accompanied by 4 or 5 older woman, and I mean OLD, came up to me with them in tow and asked if I would shake their hands. I was waiting for Alan Funt or even Ashton Kutcher to jump out and let me know I was being punked, but I shook all their hands, he thanked me very much, and they moved on. Do I look like some celebrity that I'm not aware of? And if that wasn't weird enough, as we left the building a group of young, seemingly hip, Indian 20somethings came up and asked if they could take their picture with us. Ok seriously, who put them up to this? come on, admit it....

Ok, well sorry this is so long, I started it on Sunday and could not bring myself to finish it. But since I'm leaving in 24 hours I figured it was kind of now or never. I'm leaving just in time. IF I have to drive ONE MORE day on the street of Bangalore, I think I will be forced to get out of the car in the middle of the road and SCREAM at everyone. Of course, they'd probably stop and ask me for my autograph.

I cannot begin to tell you how happy I will be to get back in my own bed!

Bye bye from India,