Back home

Well, my blog died the last few weeks, but so did my free time. I can honestly say that I've never had a busier three months, but the intensity of the last few weeks completely blew me away. I am back home now, a week early. We found out last Friday as we were getting on the bus to leave Dharamsala that Tayka's dad died unexpectedly from pneumonia. Two days later, I flew her home to Denver so that she would not have to be alone for so long. Though it meant leaving my friends and India ealier than I was prepared for, I am so glad that I was there for Tayka, able to hold her hand and carry her bags.

The journey home couldn't have been smoother. Though getting on to the plane to be greeted with "Hello" in a SOUTHERN accent, then hearing the stewardesses yelling at Indian people for walking around while the fasten seatbelt light was on was all very unpleasant, Tayka and I passed the journey watching Indian movies, playing cards, and sleeping. We wore poitus (they will ALWAYS be poitus, not bindis) through the Newark and Denver airports, and received many strange looks. I enjoyed the negative attention, hoping that somehow I was reflecting it back on the kids screaming for a candy bar and McDonalds rather than 3 rupees for rice, the unnecessarily spotless glamor of the airports, the huge stores filled with cellphones or magazines or neck pillows... Tayka and I went through CULTURE SHOCK as soon as we stepped off the first plane.

Now I am back home, wearing Berkeley sweatshirt instead of handmade 100% cotton shirts, wool socks instead of bug repellent and sunscreen. I had soysage for breakfast...wierd. Where's the chai and the cow poop? Where's the hair in my food? And why are these bathrooms so clean? (By the way, when airplane bathrooms not only seem clean but also luxurious, you know you've been somewhere good... America: where there's pee on the seat, but not the floor. I'm still squatting, just a little higher up. )

I was going to use this post to write about Dharamsala, seeing the Dalai Lama, marching in a peace rally, smelly Delhi, leaving Auroville, and everything else important that I've left out over the last three months, but I've realized that, try as I might, my blog can never be even near a complete representation of my trip. Unfortunately, there are no words that can sum up what I've done or who I've become. I have undergone so much change that it will take months for me to figure out who I am now. All I can say to those who are unsatisfied with this blog as an account of my trip is: come ask me.

From back in the land of thermostats and SUVs,
Sarah