By now I hope you realize that I kind of falling for India. It’s OK, so is Lynn! It is not a perfect romance. The fact that lovers are human and not perfect is part of my problem. We just feel more fulfilled or believe that we are than we are as individuals. We are emotionally and physically accepted, we assume that we are better for it or at least feel better.
Both India and I have our foibles. Mine, you already know and I am not confessing to you about any more. India has population, limited employment and therefore poverty and distracting willing to show enhancing colors. Like most levels of appreciated culture, they are not typical, they are unusual. People, who question their worth may seek other camaflagued and seem to want or need to escape from who or what they feel they really are, to a decorated and distracted self. In the States it may be cars, clothes and music, not to mention colognes, designer names on clothing, tummy-tucks, hair transplants, breast enhancement and tattoos. `In India, from a guy who hasn’t yet spent 100 awake hours here yet, it seems that there is an demonstrated cultural intensity, There is “blandness” to look over, around or through the need, be it of the street beggars, the crowds on the streets, in the trains, or the traffic-India had assumed some things as we do when we assume the summer heat, mosquitos and sun burns. They are, have been and will always be, so be it. But as we distract ourselves and others with bathing suits, beach towels and #999 quality sun block, Indian chooses their distractors of intense colorful cotton saris and spicy foods which we might call hot or gaudy– but we’re wrong. Theirs are enriching colors and their food, spice and all are enhancing.It make food a event. Indian convert live from what it may be to what they want it to be, as best they can manage their reality
Take Jaipur, our second city. We flew from Mumbai for about an hour with half of the plane filled with French tourist. That kind of an experience will make you a little less proud of your European roots. Surprisingly, the phrase , “Please keep you seats” does translate well into French. Well Jaipur is called the pink city. Why, because some one more important that me but who I can’t remember thought that PINK was the color everything should be.
By the way, Lynn is the one without the turban. The fellow was our driver and behind them is the city gate. Jaipor was a wild and busy city. Although, it was Sunday after noon Jaipor was hopping. By the way this is the driver who drove to mass at St. Francis. By the way when we drove into the parking lot of St. Francis, the priest was in the parking lot greeting folks Of course even with my newly gained Indian tan, I must have stood out as “whitey”, and the priest came over to me and somewhat apologetically said that the mass was going to be said in the local language of Hindi. Hey if he knew how I have struggled back home understanding, he may not have apologized. Interestingly it was Mission Sunday and I thought how often back home we have thought of these people as the “missions” and yet here they (we) were contributing in the one collection for the missions. – The other missions!
We went shopping later in the after noon and Lynn and I really try to haggle – no we were not to effective but that did not stop us from trying and buying!
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