When I told people I planned on studying abroad in India, their general response was utter horror and disbelief. They would instantaneously rattle off a few key questions: Aren't you afraid? Are you sure you want to go? And of course, the ever popular, Why would you want to go to INDIA???? As though India were some giant black hole on the map just waiting to swallow innocent American college girls whole.
I wouldn't even be able to utter a defensive, and justified, response -- Yeah, I'm pretty darn positive I want to go, thanks -- before their eyes widened in terror and they let out a little gasp, unleashing a firestorm of warnings about India. It doesn't matter that most of them had never actually been to Asia, let alone India, or that most of them probably didn't even know someone from India. The minute I let the world know that I'd set my sights on the much-speculated-about, but seldom-understood, mythical land of malaria, Delhi Belly diarrhea, and shady auto drivers, every misinformed inhabitant of the Western Hemisphere seemed to turn into the premiere expert on my personal safety.
I've heard it all: Don't EVER drink the tap water, and use bottled water to brush your teeth for at least the first month, or else you'll become horribly ill and you'll have to go home. Carry half your money on a belt strapped under your clothes at all times, even on campus. Everyone's trying to steal from you. Keep your backpack locked wherever you go. Carry your passport at all times. No, don't carry your passport; lock it in a safe in your room and carry copies of it everywhere. Only travel 1st or 2nd class on trains -- don't mix with the average people, they'll rob you in your sleep. I once knew a girl who knew a guy who died from eating meat from a street stall in Bangladesh, so don't touch street food for the whole five months. Don't wear sleeveless tops, don't go out at night, don't smile, don't make eye contact.
What's next, I should only breathe when I'm in the privacy of my own room? After months of listening to every know-it-all, non-Indian person from Philadelphia to DC lecture me on the perils of my impending study abroad nightmare, it's no wonder that in the weeks leading up to my departure for India I found myself questioning my decision to go. I was practically in a panic on the plane, spending most of my twenty-four hours of travel attempting (and mostly failing) to fight back tears and an overwhelming sense of dread.
Upon arriving things improved, thanks mainly to the surprisingly beautiful, newly constructed Hyderabad international airport and the warmth and understanding of my homestay family. However, the panic was still looming, lying low and waiting to pounce. Orientation ushered in day after day of long presentations on safety, causing all of my old fears to resurface. By the end of the ten day orientation program, my fellow students and I were so petrified we barely wanted to walk outside, convinced that nothing but danger awaited us there. It was better to sit home on the couch with a cup of chai for the next five months than to be swallowed alive by the Hyderabadi urban jungle, right?
And yet, somehow I find myself posting this blog exactly one month from the day that I landed in Hyderabad, India with a suitcase full of toilet paper and medications and a mind full of irrational fears. Even since I started feeling comfortable here in India, there has been a part of me that really didn't believe I'd make it this far. Either one of those terrifying scenarios would come true, or I'd just be so overwhelmed by culture shock and the sheer sensory bombardment of India that I'd have a breakdown and go home within the first week or two.
So how did I manage? Perseverance, passion for this country, street smarts, and a certain level of adaptability were all essential. But the real key to surviving my first month in India was...India itself. That's right, America: not only is India survivable, but it is also friendly, modern, beautiful, open, fascinating, and transformative.
That's not to say that my first month here hasn't been challenging. My feelings about India changed every twenty-four hours for the first two weeks, as my emotions constantly swung back and forth between complete elation and utter dismay; I found myself either giggling and snapping photos of everything I laid my eyes on, or lying in bed for hours crying myself to sleep. The heat has at times been unbearable, ushering in its own set of challenges, from swarms of mosquitoes to melting eye makeup to accepting the fact that I smell sweaty about 75 percent of the time. I breathe in a strong dose of diesel fumes, rotting garbage, water buffalo dung, and urine to and from school everyday. I have been gawked at constantly from the minute I stepped off the plane, particularly by men who seem interested in a little more than the fact that I'm a foreigner, especially when they insist on taking pictures of me as I just try going about my daily life. And don't even get me started on registering for classes in the Indian university system; imagine the most stressful academic situation you've ever encountered, multiply it by about 500, and then maybe you'll have a rough idea of the sort of frustration foreign students deal with here when trying to start the semester.
Despite all this, however, I made it through the first month with an overwhelmingly positive view of this country. For every creepy guy checking me out on the bus, there's a fatherly bus attendant who starts up a conversation with me about my plans for India and shields me from the all-male gaze. For every auto rickshaw driver who's tried to scam me out of fifty rupees, there's been a kind driver who jumped out of his vehicle and stopped four lanes of traffic to help my friends and I cross a busy highway. For every pile of cow poop I've been unable to avoid riding my bike through, there have been wonder-inducing moments where I've walked down the street alongside herds of water buffalo, bleating goats, and, one time, even a pair of camels.
For every challenge, there have been infinite rewards. In just thirty days, I have met more good samaritans and friendly strangers than I have in Washington, DC in the past two years. I've seen more natural and man-made beauty than I ever could have imagined from an overpopulated, urban landscape. I've eaten world class meals just sitting at my homestay family's dining room table, and I've embarked on big adventures just getting to class in the morning.
I survived one month in India, and I have four more months to go. I know they won't be easy, but I don't want them to be. I'm ready to experience India as she is meant to be experienced: no preconceived notions, no judgments, and absolutely no advice from misinformed foreigners. India is not a black hole; she's a galaxy, alive and sparkling with both dark matter and light. There's no gravity in space, so it's time to let go, and get carried away.