Vishakhapatnam

So let’s count this entry as the first official one from India. I haven’t had the time nor resources to really update the blog, so now that I do I will just get started; I have a lot to say.

Well the ride from Bangkok to New Delhi was interesting. I assume that electronics are cheaper in Thailand….because EVERY Indian family had about 4 huge flat screen televisions with them at the airport. Needlesstosay, this made the check-in experience interesting. Lines were long and the smell of curry was in the air. I finally got passed security and everything and I was waiting patiently in the terminal. Currently I am reading the book “Kite Runner.” I read it once in high school but I have noticed that when you learn more and experience new things, a book you once read years ago turns out to be a totally different experience. I sat down, started reading, and dozed off a few minutes later. “Excuse me sir, last call for New Delhi.” I rushed onto the plane. Luckily the plane wasn’t too crowded. There were some crazy smells going on in that plane for sure. Dad, do you remember what durian fruit smells like? Well, I swear some of these Indian guys use it as deodorant. The inside of that plane suddenly turned into the Taj Mahal or something. Everyone was Indian. Really, everyone. I did manage to find another white guy about halfway through the flight. He was walking down the aisle so I said something to him in English. He looked back at me. Stared. I didn’t know if I had offended him or maybe he just didn’t want to talk. I did notice that his clothes were a bit unorthodox for the USA so I started wondering who this man was. After further investigation, I really was the only white guy on the flight….my “aisle friend” turned out to be an albino Indian.

I finally made it to Visakhapatnam. During my stop in New Delhi I managed to go to the Taj Mahal. Definitely checked that one off of the bucket list. I remember when I was on my mission and I ate at this Indian restaurant called Curry Walla. In the restaurant there was a picture of the Taj Mahal. Every since that moment I have wanted to go see the Taj Mahal. Well, that moment in the restaurant coupled with the movie “Aladdin.” The Taj Mahal was so beautiful. It looked like a backdrop from a movie set or something. It is so white and sparkles from the sunlight. I am really glad I got to see it…but Angkor Wat still smokes that place. Oh Cambodia…..

Let me explain my living situation. I will be spending a significant amount of time in a small Jalari fishing village right on the coast. We’re talking Slumdog Millionaire kind of stuff down there. I went on a run and made my way to the village on Saturday. It was like taking a step back in history a couple hundred years. It’s going to be quite the experience when I spend my time with them there. My plan of attack on the research is to spend 3-4 days living with them in their huts and then come back and analyze my findings at the program apartments. Since I am the only boy, I have a place to myself. I have a bedroom ,  a bathroom, and an extra room I am using for exercise and music. My bathroom is essentially a hole in the ground and a bucket full of water for my showers. I do have a fan which makes the nighttime almost bearable.

Let me expound on my sleeping experience thus far here in Vizag. I bought this rockin’ mosquito net at Sports Chalet before I left. I am glad I did. I put that around my mattress and tuck it in underneath so no mosquitoes can come sleep with me. I read a lot at night because it is too hot for me to fall asleep, so I try and doze off while reading. I usually can fall asleep around 11 p.m. or so. If it is hot, I can’t sleep at all. Well, it is super hot. I fall asleep wet from my own sweat each night. It’s like that feeling of showering and then putting on your clothes without having dried yourself off. Or maybe that feeling of playing sports and not taking your shirt off for a while afterwards. When I wake up in the morning, it feels like someone was pouring water on me all night. I wake up very thirsty from the water loss. My sheets are soaked, my pillow moist, and my body sweating like I just ran a marathon. Please don’t mistake my explanation for complaining. I am not complaining. This is my humble attempt at explaining what my life is going to be like for the next 4 months. My room is just a stone’s throw away from a Krishna Temple. Every morning at 4:30 a noise wakes me up. This is the sound of the neighbors “waking up” the Deity for the day. They parade down the street banging pots and pans and singing loud chanting songs. It reminds me of New Year’s Eve when everyone goes out in the streets and bangs the pots. No, actually it reminds me of when Perry and I used to have to put the dishes away together. Well, either way, I wake up a little disgruntled in the morning. Really guys? Banging pots and pans every morning? Just let Krishna sleep in one day J For the first two days it just upset me….now I am intrigued by what they do. I am going to start waking up in the morning and doing it with them. I love the way they sing the chants. There is a chant leader and everyone else parades behind him. I wanna learn how to lead the chants. A noble goal by December, right?

Well these people are so interesting to me. Definitely different from anything I have ever come across in my lifetime. Some of them are so dark that I can’t tell where their black hair ends and their skin begins. Their white eyes and teeth stick out like sore thumbs when contrasted with the midnight-colored backdrop their skin provides. They are beautiful. Their language is another thing that just throws me for a loop. Telugu is a crazy language. It is so fast and so tough to distinguish the different morphemes. Luckily they also speak “English.” I was relieved when I found out that English was one of the official languages here…but from my short time here I have realized that their “English” isn’t the English that I speak. I can’t understand a word they say. All the more motivation to learn Telugu, right?

I need to wrap up with one of the more sentimental paragraphs I have written in a while. I feel like I have no friends here. Sure, there are other students and even my professor here, but going from my best friend Steven to no friends is tough. Have you ever had that feeling of being alone even when you are in a crowded room? I have had that feeling for the last three days…except this “room” is a city of 2.5 million inhabitants. It’s been pretty tough on me. I try my best to enjoy the adventure and live it up, but it’s tough for me. Come on Kory, Carpe Diem brother. Carpe Diem. Krishnayya, the program director, lives just down the street. Yesterday I went to his house because I had a question to ask. “Krishnayyagaru, how do Indians show love and affection to those they love?” I asked him. “Kory, we don’t. The only love that is shown is from behind the 4 walls of people’s homes. Other than that, Indians don’t show love publicly at all. Neither words nor actions.” This hurt my heart a little bit. Love is kind of like my fuel to get through a tough day. This is how I got through Cambodia…learned how to love them and be loved in return. I need to make friends and show my love and appreciation for them. What do I do when I am having a rough day? I want to serve. I want to go make friends and show them that I love them and appreciate them. Obviously, love doesn’t just come. But when it does, how can I feel close to people if I am not supposed to express that love and care for them? Not the answer I was looking for….

Church was good on Sunday. Just what I needed, actually. I want to share a quick story about a man named Srinivas. He was my first friend here in India. I was sitting in Sunday school class kind of feeling sorry for myself. I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I didn’t have anyone to sit next to. Well, there were people I could have sat next to, but no one was EXPECTING me to sit next to them. That’s the difference. It’s like in high school. There is the group that expects you to be with them at lunch. When you arrive, they greet you with a smile. You are welcome there. You are expected to be there. It’s your scene. Then compare that with the feeling of walking into a party of someone you don’t know. Everyone just kind of stares and you feel pretty awkward. You walk in quickly and quietly, trying desperately to find where the soft drinks are, hoping that a Coke will make you invisible. Well, a man came crawling in the door to the room. Yes, crawling. He didn’t have any legs…..polio had kidnapped those when he was in three. He came in and sat next to me. A tender mercy from the Lord. He smiled the whole hour. We became quick friends. He sang the closing hymn just as loudly as I did. He pulled out a tithing slip and paid his tithing. What a man! No legs, no wife, little money, but he paid his tithing. He crawled to church. In that moment when I put my arm around him I felt so much love for him. Srinivas, my first friend. I wanted so badly to be his legs for him. I couldn’t help but think of the Josh Groban song “You Raise Me Up.” Well, I really could raise this man up; he didn’t have legs. I wanted to show him what it felt like to run in the wind. Or play soccer. Or even just go on a walk. I just wanted to be his legs. Or even let him take mine for a while. He deserved it. He was the sweetest man ever. I couldn’t give him my legs, but I sure could put my arm around him and tell him I was glad to meet him and make him smile. About halfway through class I started rubbing his back. Not in a romantic way, or the way I hope Sidney will do to me when I get home (wink, wink) but in a brotherly kind of way. I could feel his muscular back. I could feel the wear and tear of a difficult life. I could feel the leathery, thick skin on his hands that had carried him around each day. As I rubbed his back, I could see him kind of put his head down and enjoy it. When was the last time someone had scratched his back in church? Probably never. “Remember Kory, Indians don’t show affection.” Well, Srinivas was my friend, and if the only way I could show him that I wanted to be his friend then I was going to scratch his back at church. Srinivas is 35 years old. I am glad I met him. It’s people like him that help me get through rough times. It’s people like him that remind me that Heavenly Father created this world and we are ALL children of God. Brothers and Sisters. It’s people like him that prove to me that God exists…..kind of like God’s fingerprints. If you are lucky enough, you can find them everyday. Keep your eyes peeled…..

Well I’m off to bed. Just 20 more pages left in my book and I will be on to the next one. I am starting my research hopefully tomorrow. Should be interesting. Have a beautiful day.

From India,

Kory

PS: I’m shaving my head tomorrow and dedicating it to some temple Goddess…should be interesting.

PPS: I will put the pictures up tomorrow...it takes a while.