Just before India

I’m awake at 5 a.m. and come downstairs.  As I enter the living room I feel a twinge of sadness.  Our Christmas tree is already gone and it’s only January 2^nd.  We’ve never taken our tree down so soon and we never put it up so late, either.  But this year everything is different.  We’ve been busy and distracted by what was initially our excitement about going to India.  We were planning to leave two days from today.  Our reservations for hotels and homestays are in place.  Our flights from Mumbai to Udaipur, New Delhi to Cochin and Allepy back to Mumbai are paid for.   The Indian Consulate has put their stamp of approval on my passport and our friends Bruce and Sarah are looking forward to joining us on the last leg of our trip, in the backwaters of Cochin. 

It was their invitation that sparked our interest in going to India.  Bruce works for Cummins and they are building a plant in Phaltan.  He and Sarah will be living in India for nearly three months.  We were at a dinner party with them when they casually suggested to the rest of us that we come to India and visit them while they’re there.  Sam and I looked at each other and confirmed each other’s interest in the possibility.  Something we love to do andhave always done well together, is travel.  Our destinations have been growing increasingly exotic.  California to visit Amos, Hawaii and Alaska to visit Josh, and Europe for the honeymoon we delayed for 20 years  and now, India. 

After the migraine inducing claustrophobia I’d experienced in our coach seating  to Kailua-Kona and Anchorage, I knew the only way I could anticipate rather than dread our 24 hour flights between Vermont and India was to fly first class.  For over nearly two decades we’d been accumulating frequent flyer miles.  Now we had just a little more than we needed to allow for that luxury.  I’d been relishing the thought of seats that converted into beds, being pampered by flight attendants and had enjoyed some of my client’s descriptions of their own first class travels.

At Thanksgiving time, just before they departed for Phaltan, we invited Sarah and Bruce to our home for dinner.  We also invited Sam’s colleague, Joel and his sweetheart, Michelle to join us.  Joel had spent years of his childhood living in India and we had a lively conversation.  Joel advised us of places we’d want to visit, the best way to travel around the country, how to dress appropriately and he warned us of aspects of India that we might find challenging.  He suggested we pack very lightly, bringing a pair of long pajama bottoms and purchasing Indian clothing once we arrived.   There would be temples, he said, where I would need to keep my shoulders covered. 

And so, for the past two months Sam’s been perusing guide books and I’ve been reading literature about India.  We’ve watched movies set in India or about Indian culture and we’ve communicated via Skype with an Indian travel advisor, Abbas, who has helped us create our route via car with driver, train and planes.   We’ve double checked Abbas’ accommodation suggestions on Trip Advisor, learning that we need to adjust our expectations about running hot water and toilets that flush.  We are nearly ready to go with the exception of one thing – Sam’s visa.  It is now two days before our much anticipated departure and Sam’s passport has still not been stamped by the Indian consulate.    

Sam’s a journalist, perhaps the first red flag.  He traveled to Afghanistan less than three months ago to cover Vermont’s National Guard unit stationed over there.  This might be another red flag.  But given that my visa was approved over two weeks ago and my passport is safely back in my hands, we’re aware that something is holding up Sam’s application.  Tomorrow he will need to empty our Jet Blue frequent flyer account  to travel to New York,  go directly to the Indian consulate and, hopefully,  come home hours later with his stamped passport in hand.

It’s been gradually dawning on us that Sam may not be going to India.  Even if his visa arrives one day late, last minute flights are expensive and may not be an option for us.  So, my forward to India gear has been shifted into neutral.  While I await the outcome of Sam’s efforts tomorrow’s, I consider my limited options if he doesn’t succeed.  Cancel our trip and lose everything we’ve paid for in advance.  Go to India by myself. 

The latter possibility thrills and terrifies me.   Although Abbas assures me I would not be unsafe, he has been clear that a woman traveling alone in India is a pronounced target for touts, the street vendors who will try to sell me what I don’t want or need for prices  well above what they would normally get.  I’ve also read that women traveling alone should be prepared to be gaped at and groped, whistled at and wooed.  But let’s be realistic.  I’m 59 and by no means svelte.  In fact, I’ve imagined that at 5’8 and a half inches with a stature well developed by my massage practice, I may seem a bit intimidating to the naturally smaller Indian people. 

And so for a few days now I have tried to sit with the ambiguity of not knowing what will happen when I embark upon this journey.  Sarah emailed me to say she will have a car and driver awaiting me at the airport and would accompany me on at least the first part of my travels.  That has brought a huge measure of comfort.  Sarah and I are kindred spirits and I would welcome her along for the entire journey, whether Sam is with me or not. 

It’s been interesting, to say the least, to see how the uncertainty has shifted my perspective about everything to do with the trip.  Having witnessed what three weeks in Afghanistan did for my husband’s spirit, I would love to gain the same sense of confidence and awe from traveling to India on my own, something I wouldn’t have even considered six months ago.  But I remember my solo trip to New Mexico.  Having agreed to be bumped off a flight to Florida, I had been rewarded with a round trip ticket to anywhere in the lower 48 states.  I decided to use it to celebrate the completion of my masters’ degree in Counseling Psychology by going to New Mexico for ten days.  Alone.  They were ten of the longest days of my life. 

Whatever romantic notions I had about traveling alone were quickly dispelled after my tent flapped wildly in the desert wind all night.  I lie there wide awake, wondering if I could sleep in the back seat of my car for the rest of the trip.  I did that for several nights, parking under a street lamp in an empty lot adjoining a mineral spring in Taos, but finding a place that felt safe and quiet was nearly impossible and after two nights I felt seriously sleep deprived.  Though the street vendors were friendly and the food delicious, I missed Sam.  I missed my children and my home.  Now that I’ve traveled much more, I realize it was being alone that made it so difficult. 

There were moments of growth and I was open to others and nature in a way that would not have happened otherwise, but the sense of aloneness was nearly unendurable at times.  Still, the trip had ended on a high note.  I drove up to Colorado to hike with a friend at Pike’s Peak.  The road out of the desert was a long, flat line and the snow capped Rockies stood straight ahead of me, etched against the blue sky.  I played the cassette tape I had made as a parting gift for everyone in my professional seminar class, chanting along with Joanne Shenandoah’s Circle of Friendship  over and over.   I was driving a six-cylinder Buick and it occurred to me that there would never be a better moment to put the pedal to the metal.  And so I did.  I powered the windows down and the wind whipped through the car as the needle climbed to 118, uttil the mother in me took over, reminding me I had children who needed me.  I felt exhilarated. 

Well, so much for reminiscences.  It looks like I won’t have to wend my way through the touts in Mumbai, after all.  Sam just called and he has succeeded in procuring his visa.  I’m sure he’ll want to tell you about that.  My ambiguity is now transformed into pure anticipation.  I have to finish packing, get Traveler’s checks from the bank and run a couple errands.