March 2013

Honestly, India! You do my my head in completely but always make me laugh at how ludicrous you are. You are infuriating enough that one has to make the decision quickly to go with the flow or be driven insane. It always shakes me out of my complacency and drags me completely into the moment.
By the time my plane landed in Goa, I was exhausted. It had been a 23 hour trip and with my mind in a whirl of confusion about my job and the pressures on me to achieve career objectives while in India, my mood was somewhat dark.
I was unimpressed with the domestic/international/military base airport. I was pretty unhappy when my bag finally appeared on the slowest moving luggage carousel in the world only to discover the side zipper had busted open and the remaining contents were trying hard to play catch up with the bag.
That said, I did manage to get out of the airport pretty quickly and I was REALLY looking forward to getting to my fancy motel – the perks of business travel.
When I emerged into the glaring sunshine, I was immediately smothered in an oppressive heat. But I had been in India before and knew to expect this. What I did not expect was what happened next.
I saw an attractive young man clamouring among the hundred or so people parading placards for hotels with the names of guests they were expecting. This man was holding up a sign with the name of the motel I was staying at, but displaying a different guest’s name. I approached him through the throng of family reunions, confused tourists and business travellers. I told him I was staying at that motel but the placard did not have my name on it. He consulted his folder and quickly found my name. I nodded enthusiastically until I saw confusion cross his face. He looked at the “Arrivals” board which listed three landed planes.
Pointing to the board, the young man was uncategorical: “but madam, you have not yet arrived”.
I looked at the board and saw my recently landed plane was indeed listed as “delayed”. I chuckled and looking down at myself and at my surroundings to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, I said: “but you see, I have arrived, I am standing here.”
But there was no moving this man. “No madam, your plane is not here so you are not here”.
Yes, India. I had indeed arrived – sort of.
I suggested I would wait until I did arrive. This sounded like a very good idea to the young man. So I took in the smells, the sounds, the heat, the people and waited until my plane finally landed. After 20 minutes the young man turned to me and said: “oh good madam, you arrived now. Welcome to Goa”. It is impossible to do anything other than smile at such a welcome. I thanked him and suggested it would be very good to get to the car. But wait, there was another passenger whose plane had arrived but he was missing!!!! We waited another five minutes or so until he turned up and then we were on our way.
It was a gorgeous drive to the motel and my companion on my “exclusive” car trip to the motel was a very knowledgeable Indian who was in Goa for the first time for a conference. His excitement was infectious and he just about jumped out the car window when he saw the ocean. What a treat to bear witness to such an experience.
When we did make it to the motel I was starved so ordered some room services and had a quick shower. The food arrived much more promptly than I did and I was immediately reminded of one of my absolute favourites aspects of India – the food. The spices, the fusion and depth of flavours. Oh my God. It was amazing and despite the heat, the airport wait and the exhaustion, I felt complete contentment.
The next morning I determined to discover Goa. I managed to squeeze in a couple of days leave before the conference I was here to attend started. I went to the concierge and asked where a specific store was – Fab India, a dear friend had introduced me to this feast of all things Indian. I asked how far away it was. “Ten minutes by taxi,” the concierge told me. I asked how long it would take to walk. “Ten minutes”. Was the answer. I soon discovered that apparently everything was “10 minutes” away either on foot or car or rickshaw. Even if it was half an hour by car, it was still a 10 minute walk.
There was no malice in what some would consider to be such misleading statements. The fact is Indians, as a rule, have a somewhat different concept of time than westerners. Time is, for many, an external construct which really is not relevant. It passes whether you are watching it or not.
So I set off on foot. The directions I was given were, well, vague and, frankly, incorrect. So I walked and walked and walked, a hell of a lot longer than 10 minutes. The heat and humidity soon conspired to develop very impressive blisters between my big toes and second toes, thanks to the thongs (flip flops to most) I was wearing! In the end I dispensed with the footwear altogether but quickly started to develop blisters on the bottom of my feet from the searing heat of the asphalt.
I was lucky enough to find some shade on the Main Street next to a massive park which was hosting four separate cricket games. I have found anywhere on the subcontinent that if you stop and watch a cricket game, it is an automatic invite for locals to engage in conversation. Invariably the name Sachin Tendulkar comes up. I was lucky enough to meet the Indian cricket legend myself at Brisbane Airport the year before. Man that always gives me major currency with Indians. And the fact we can share a discussion about his brilliance always, always, always makes me smile.
India is the place which reminds me no matter how different people may seem to each other, there is always common ground if you just look for it. For me, this gives the people of India I have met a genuine warmth I cannot help but respond to positively. The country may be mad and chaotic and completely defy logic, but it a place full of genuine people and I cannot get enough of it. I count myself as incredibly blessed to have experienced the madness that is India a couple of times now. I can’t wait to get back there.