crosstown traffic

A storm was hanging over New York City, delaying my flight out of Boston by two hours. There was no way I'd make the connection. I began second guessing my plans to travel to India at all. At last, Continental put me on standby for another flight. I got on the plane: my first accomplishment. In Newark, I about lost it while waiting several minutes to deplane. I wanted to shout, "I'M ON A SPIRITUAL PILGRIMAGE! GET OUT OF ZEE WAY!" I ran to the gate, panting, got on the jumbo jet, and settled in for the thirteen hour ride.

Upon arrival in Delhi, the baggage carousel kept going around and around with no big red backpack in sight. It seems it stayed with my original flight. For the second time (the first being at the Boston airport), I broke down in silent tears. But, I maintained composure when dealing with the customer service people. (I think US Air's losing my luggage in London in 1999 came in handy here.) After I FINALLY filled out the paperwork and was assured that my bag would be delivered to me in Rishikesh in 24 hours (YEAH... right!), I made my way through customs and out to the maddening crowd. I scanned the dozens of cards people were holding welcoming so-and-so, looking for my name, wondering if my travel agent guy had left because I'd taken so long. There, at the end of the line, he stood holding my name! Ah, sweet recognition of a stranger who was expecting me.

He drove me to the YWCA Guest House, a 30-minute ride which gave me my first experience of the insane Indian traffic system. First of all, they drive on the left like in the UK. Fine. But then there are rickshaws, bikes, buses, cars, pedestrians, dogs, cows and monkeys to contend with. Cars will veer into other lanes to pass slow-movers, and two or three vehicles will often squeeze into one lane. It's quite unnerving. I am generally a calm person, but it's hard to relax when there's a double decker bus aiming to you head on. I took the train to Haridwar this morning, again thankfully with a seasoned guide to drive me to the station and even walk me right to my seat on the train. And now I'm here in the little computer lab at the ashram, baggage-free, sweaty and dazed, but here. I'm finding more information about this ashram and their schedule on their website than anyone will tell me in person. They don't seem very accustomed to Westerners at first glance. The staff members I've encountered speak English, though not extremely well. I was reassured by this daily quote in my inbox:

Doubt is an uncomfortable position, but certainty is an absurd one.
- Voltaire