goodbyethailandiloveyou

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Going back to India tomorrow. Really one of the most unappealing activities that has ever been presented to me. But I must!

Okay, so I have to be a little more honest than that. I actually do love India, despite the fact that--and let me not under-emphasize this--despite the fact that I really, really, truly, immensely hate India. I have never, ever, in after seven months in India, seen a person smile at me on the street. Maybe it happened once and I missed it, but I don't think so. The odds are low. Gape at me, yes. Many times. Look at me inappropriately, yes. But a genuinely friendly smile, no.

At the same time, there's only so much you can take of "the good life." The limit takes a long time to reach, maybe, but there is a limit. There's only so many times you can go into a giant department store, touch all of the beautiful things inside, lament the fact that you can't buy any of them, and move on to the next store. There's only so many times you can eat a perfectly prepared dish of pad thai, complete with fresh lime, dried pepper, and sugar. (Maybe. I'm still not sure on this point). There's only so many times you can spend all day swimming in the ocean, floating on your back, choking on salt water, wading, and watching the sunset.

Actually, what I really like about India, and the reason why I'm not too depressed about returning, is that India has a sort of innocence that I have never felt elsewhere. The poverty of India is devestating perhaps, but I feel somehow relieved to know that places like India still exist on earth--places that haven't been completely corrupted and destroyed by capitalism and consumerism. Really, you should see some of the malls in Bangkok. It's baffling. You should see the food courts. A mall food court in Bangkok is more like a collection of 40 expensive restaurants, each neatly isolated from all the others by sparkling glass walls, real plants, and tasteful architectural crap. But even when you're sitting in one of these "restaurants" and enjoying your (inevitably gourmet) meal, you can still feel/hear the chaotic buzz of all the other restaurants and people and shopping bags and advertisements, and you realize that you and your experience are not special at all. I've never felt so pampered and lost in my entire life. In india, all I have are the essentials. No, I'm still swimming in unnecessary crap compared to the children I work with. They have really ONLY what they need. Or maybe slightly more. They brush their teeth with old toothbrushes and some cheap white powder I don't know the name of. All 30 of them use the same bar of soap, bathing at 5:30 in the morning while Pinkey Baido dumps cold buckets of water over their heads in the muggy dawn. They all eat from the same giant pot of rice, and they're all given the same portions. It all makes sense, and nothing is wasted. And then you enter a giant mall like the ones in Bangkok, and you realize how perverse and disgusting it is that we have to be seduced into spending millions of dollars and things like SOAP. FOOD. WATER. Why? Why do we have to pay for this stuff? Every little human necessity--from bathing to eating to procrating--is sensationalized and dolled-up to the point of being clownish. Why do I need "Face Yogurt" complete with grape-seed extract and papaya peel and coconut juice? Why does my food need to have ruffles and swirls of chocolate sauce adorning it?

You know what? It's pretty much illegal to be publicly naked in any developed country, and yet no one is giving us clothes. We are required to spend money on clothes if we want to go out in public. Not that I'm against clothes, but does anyone else find this absurd? Like, maybe the government should issue us clothes upon birth, so that they can avoid the possible peril of seeing us naked. Why not make it illegal to starve to death? Dang.

Okay, so I guess I've discovered that India has purified me, in the sense that I now understand what is ESSENTIAL TO LIFE and what is just a big ADVERTISEMENT PLOY. And pretty much everything I've ever seen or bought, outside of India, was a big advertisement ploy. I think I will happily suffer bad smells and unaesthetic sights, if I am certain that there is no great scheming trickery trying to design and shape my entire experience. I will pay that small price for freedom. And just the right to have time of personal reflection. I can (and must) wait at a bus stop without some moronic TV character blaring at me from a nearby lightpole. I don't need distraction constantly. I like having time to think and struggle with the questions of life--questions larger than, "why is Starbucks coffee so expensive?" or, "when will somebody cool invite me to a party?"

I will close with a quote from Sixtine, who saw a baby in the mall today: "that's the sort of baby I want. Cute, quiet, and not heavy." She'll be a great mom.

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