When the Extraordinary becomes Ordinary

Here in India, we are coming up on the three month mark. Three months of eating things we don’t know the names of and wearing clothing that makes us look like we are having the best pajama party ever.  Three months of getting lost and finding our way and getting very, very lost and eventually having a nice stranger taking pity on us to take us back to campus. Three months of adventures and crazy picture moments and not knowing what insane thing the next day will hold.

                But around three months, things have started to change a bit. The honeymoon stage is long past, the point where India drives you crazy at every turn is pattering away, the can’t-wait-to-get-back-on-that- air-conditioned-plane-and-get-the-heck-away-from-here phase only comes in waves now, and a rut seems to have been found.

                India has gotten comfortable. We know how to play by the rules now, how to barter and bargain and get a good deal. Road conditions are no longer terrifying and I even scream less, the food has become normal (it’s still so spicy and we still don’t know the names, but normal as can be). Talking to people on the train or on the street is getting easier, even speaking in Hindi or Urdu. We can read the signs that are in other languages, and the idea of taking a train across the country is commonplace. Our comfort food when we’re sick has changed from soup to mango juice and sweet biscuits.  Indian toilets don’t take a second thought. Saris and kurtas are as comfortable as jeans.

                I realized that things were different when I was sitting in my classroom one day. The walls are designed to have patterns cut into them to let in a breeze, but when the power goes out and the fans don’t turn, you can feel all 102 degrees. I was watching a woman in bright clothing point to the blackboard, being distracted by the gecko running across the wall, and I discovered how at home I felt.

                It feels so normal to wait for the water buffalo to cross the street before pedaling your one-speed bicycle up the dirt road. Normal to drink mango juice all the time and watch Bollywood movies, we even know many of the actors by now.  Normal to wake up in India.

                There are still plenty of adventures of course. Plenty of moments where we have to just go ahead and try, even if we just end up falling over laughing.  There will still be screw ups and lots and lots of things that are just plain crazy.  There is still wonder and the joy of discovery (or horror, depending on what it is).   I have just under six weeks left in India, and that is what has come to feel strange now.