Greetings from India!

I want to keep everyone updated but not overwhelm you with pages of text to read. So I will occasionally send out an email with a few little anecdotes about things that are happening.

First, I wanted to talk about the Frankfurt airport. I set myself up with a four hour layover there just in case one of my flights happened to get delayed, so I had some time to hang out and get lunch and so on. It’s a beautiful airport and I had a great sandwich there, but the part that impressed me the most was the security. The airport was so big that I had to leave the terminal, take a tram, and then re-enter and go through security. First of all, there was no full-body scan, just a regular old metal detector. And miraculously, the lady who waved me through it actually smiled and said thank you as I passed. Can you imagine? Also, we got to keep our shoes, our jackets, and our dignity because presumably none of us looked particularly malicious. There were no less than six security officers for each line, but rather than trying to be intimidating or rush people through they mostly were just greeting people.

They didn’t like the looks of my backpack, so one officer invited me to come take a look at the xray image—also with a smile on his face. He pointed to the giant bag of liquids, and asked if I could show him. So I opened my bag and handed it to him. Then he handed it back, poked through the rest of my bag, and told me I was good to go. This whole process probably took under three minutes. Nobody involved felt stressed, and they still managed to make sure that I was not going to be problem. I sort of want to say that this is just German efficiency for you, but really I think the way airport security in the U.S. works is actually strange. They are so focused on finding devices that can be dangerous that they forget to look at the people—they don’t even try to see which ones are dangerous and which ones are just people trying to get someplace that still deserve to be treated like human beings.

One other little story for you. Myself and two of my friends went out to dinner our first night here. We stopped at a place that had North Indian food—the kind where you order small bowls of vegetables in different sauces and then rice or bread (naan) on the side. All of our dishes were absolutely delicious—one person got potatoes that were hollowed out and filled with cheese and herbs, I had cauliflower in a spicy orange curry sauce, and another had a green mixed vegetable curry with hunks of cheese and papaya. All of this (and more than the three of us could eat and drink) for under $10 total. Food here is amazingly rich and flavorful, and also surprisingly cheap every time.

The fun part of this story comes at the very end of the meal. We asked for the check, and the waiter said “how many?” We wanted to pay separately for our meals, so we told him three. Then we waited, for what seemed like a surprisingly long time given that we were the only people in the restaurant. After a few minutes the waiter came back—with three chai teas. Of course we all realized immediately what had happened, and could barely contain our laughter at how absurd it was that some so familiar to us had gotten so utterly lost in translation. For future reference, the appropriate word in India is “bill,” not “check.” Of course things like this haven happened consistently since this time, but it was our first experience with the kinds of misunderstandings that you just have to be ready for when travelling.

That’s all for now, because I’m not sure when we will have internet next. We were in Delhi for a few days and now we’ve moved to Pragpur, most of the way to our destination for the first portion of the trip, Sarah College, which is near but not in Dharamsala. Perhaps soon I will tell you about the hazards of asking for directions in a culture where not knowing means losing face, or what it’s like to ride in a rickshaw with four other passengers. For now, I wanted you all to know that I am safe and I wish you the best.