A sudden rush!

Lola has still not arrived. The whole situation is incredibly fishy. It seems absolutely absurd that it's OK to invite a French university student to your organization and then drop off the face of the planet. It seems like a parent's worst nightmare. How can Prashand think that is an acceptable way to treat visitors? If the timing was bad to take on a new intern, then that should have been explained. But is seems that in India it is better to knowingly lie to someone than to tell him or her something she doesn't want to hear. It's quite infuriating!

Anyway, with that being said I think I should finally tell you about some of my love for India. Most of the time I write entries with the main purpose of entertaining my readers. That usually involves me elaborating on awkward moments where I find myself grossed out, frustrated and/or confused. Although the main point of this blog focuses on my many (mis)adventures in India, I don't want to leave out the good ol' happy-but-boring stuff for the sake of entertainment.

With that being said, in the last three weeks something about India has put me into a fairly steady oxitocin-induced coma. In the beginning is was triggered by food, chai and the delicious and ubiquitous sweets. But more recently I've been able to conjure up an oxitocin overload by simply thinking about it. And although I miss home something fierce, and am still constantly overwhelmed by culture shock, these warm and fuzzy feelings are keeping me pretty darn happy.

And I really can't rave enough about how great it is to get out and about in the surrounding comminities. My morning bike rides and the occasional field visits are the two things I look forward to, and will miss the most. This morning on my ride I had a four boy escort. Normally, I pass a group of four thirteen year-old boys coming toward me head-on on their way to school. They shout out, "how are youuuuuu?" and laugh at my response as we cross paths. I was fairly certain that today I left for my ride the same time I always do, but as I passed through the first small village, the four boys were just getting on their bikes to ride to school. So they joined me the entire bike ride, thoroughly enjoying their new celebrity status along the way.

On my way home an old man stopped me and had an entire one sided conversation with me in Marwari. Towards the end I realized he was inviting me back to his house for food. But Govinda was preparing paranthas for breakfast, and I didn't want to miss that deliciousness. I graciously declined, but if he asks me again tomorrow or the next day I will probably take him up on his offer. I was hoping the other old man would invite me in for chai, because today I could make it, but we just waved at each other as I rode past.

I have jokingly referred to my feelings for India as love/hate. But I have to admit that is it far, far more a love relationship than anything else. I think saying love/discomfort would be much more accurate. My endorphins are ensuring that I have plenty of love for this place.

MCC