Getting Myself Even More Acquainted

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The last few blog entries have been a little old; I’m updating what I had already written and now will be doing current entries. Thanks again for all of the feedback, it’s really comforting to know I still have friends back home! And I still can’t upload pictures, sorry. I’m sure my Mom can send you all some.
I have learned, since coming to Delhi, that getting used to a new place can take very little time. Feeling comfortable in a place, well, that depends on how much A/C you have. Luckily, the monsoons have finally come in, and the weather has cooled enough so I can actually sleep with a blanket. What new sensation! We finally got a refrigerator, too. It’s amazing. We can store ice, popsicles, leftovers, you name it! You might even have one yourself.
I also have wireless internet, now. I spent the first two days of this new luxury by watching South Park and googling what’s been happening in the world. I got off of the floor (we only have floor cushions in our apartment, and my mattress is in the main room because it’s coolest) only to use the bathroom and go the refrigerator.
So I guess you could say that my apartment is finally coming together, and things have become a little easier to manage with a semi-proper home to call my own. But I realized just how much I actually need during my time without these amenities, and more to the point, realized what I don’t need. Right now, though, I wonder how I ever lived without the ability to sit in my boxers and search tastybooze.com.
Other things are still harder to become acquainted with, and I may (hopefully) never get used to them. The poverty is one aspect. A walk from the metro station to Chandni Chowk is an inevitable trip down the darkest stretches of human misery, and one that is unavoidable. It is impossible to turn away from the beggar children, the maimed old men, the starving babies, fathers, sons. Feeling helpless to the fact is another terrible feeling, although an admittedly selfish one. The dying beggars don’t care whether or not I feel for them. They merely want to live. Tourists are somewhat expected to give more to beggars, in the same way that a rich American is expected to be ripped off by a rickshaw driver, because we can afford to, they can’t afford not to. The bicycle rickshaw drivers, after-all, mostly sleep in their rickshaws, not in homes. But I don’t have change for every beggar in the city. Such are the problems of a state without a public welfare system. Americans complain, saying they don’t want a lazy man riding on their dollar. Well, they should go to India, and see which is a better system.

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Comments

[Jim J]

keep writing--as fast as you can
I've caught up on your blog, which I’ve thoroughly enjoyed. It’s part travel log, part diary and part Indiana Smith (that’s a takeoff on Indiana Jones, get it?). But let's cut to the chase--how are the Indian chicks? I kid (no, really, what do you think?). You’re an engaging writer and it’s fun to see a man unfold. I doubt you’ll return the same person you were before you left. Milk this experience for everything you can and make ice cream. Keep documenting it. (BTW, are you keeping a backup of your blog? Websites can crash. At the very least, copy and past your posts into a word processing document.) What do you think of the people? Have you experienced Indian hospitality? Have you made friends with any of the locals?