One week in Gurgaon

I’m up at four in the morning and grateful because it’s an improvement from my first night when I was awake at midnight after crashing at four in the afternoon. Jet lag, it will make a philosopher out of anyone. After I have thought about everything I can imagine thinking about, listened to the air conditioner banging and roaring, and cuddled with David spitefully hoping he’ll wake up, there’s nothing left to do but give up the fight, turn on the computer, and write a long overdue update.

Let me tell you about the air conditioner in our room – it’s set at 30 c. I understand that’s about 92 f. I’ve never tried to measure the air outside but it’s well over 100 f in the morning when the sun comes up and only gets warmer from there. We are grateful for our air conditioner. The air is not only hot, it’s humid. David is dry when we leave our apartment in the morning and looks like he just stepped out of a shower for the second time when we arrive at the office ten minutes later. We waste no time getting inside the air conditioned office. It feels like we are living in a greenhouse. If only we could have brought our orchids with us! They would have been so happy here.

India is extravagant. There is marble everywhere. All the stairways, floors, and countertops in our neighborhood are marble. Even the courtyards and driveways are paved in it. The floors are cut with various colors of stone skillfully laid out in geometric patterns. The women are works of art in their intricately decorated saris. Little green birds dart among blooming balcony gardens and flowering trees. Stately Brahmin bulls amble along the roads blessing everyone they pass with their somber brown eyes. Marigold wreaths decorate curbside shrines or grace lighted nooks in homes and businesses. Vendors stack huge purple pyramids of eggplant in various shapes and sizes. There is a seemingly endless supply of variety.

India is friendly. I have not yet met one unfriendly creature in India, unless, perhaps, you count the monkey that darted at the heels of one of the Indian men who works at the office. I had walked past it just in front of him and it had just sat on its haunches questioningly. Maybe my pink skin confused the fight picking primate. Large brown dogs litter every corner of the city but they whine submissively and follow behind tails wagging expectantly when you speak kindly to them. One puppy rolled around on the dusty road in pure ecstasy when David rubbed its belly. Even the birds and chipmunks do not seem to fear people. Every restaurant sports a vegetarian menu. Nature and humanity appear to have reached a blissful harmony here.

We have had one week to settle in before we travel on Thursday to our more permanent home in Garo Hills. We have spent most of it sleeping through dinner, watching the sun rise in the morning, and trying to figure out how to buy food. I have an appointment on Wednesday morning with an orthodontist. David is settling in well at the office but I’m still trying to figure out how to be useful. With such an ambiguous job description I don’t expect that to change any time soon. I’ve begun making an ambitious effort to learn Hindi but they don’t speak Hindi in Garo Hills they speak a tribal language. When we leave Garo Hills we will go south where they speak Tellegu. It’s enough to discourage the most dedicated language student. We are just going to have to come to grips with the language barrier. I have not, however, given up entirely. I bought a Hindi grammar book and Hindi English dictionary yesterday on our shopping excursion.