It was exactly one year ago today that I left India for the first time. Quite honestly, it was one of the most emotional, confusing, and discouraging things I've done in the recent past, if not ever in my life.
Those who know me, even in the slightest, know that I have a deep love for India. I honestly don't know when or where it started. I always remember having a fascination with the country and wanting to go there, even from a pretty young age. My high school boyfriend was Sri Lankan, and throughout our relationship, I grew close to many Sri Lankans. When he went to college, and I would visit him, I met and got to know a lot of his friends, most of which were Indian and Sri Lankan. I suppose that is when and how it started. I built close relationships and bonds with his friends, and they became my friends. They shared their culture with me: the food, the music, the movies, the language, and so much laughter. They shared their experiences and stories with me: stories of their families, how much they missed home, about their friends from their home countries, the racism they often faced in the US, and how much they loved their cities. I heard time and time again about the beautiful city of Bombay (yes, it is called Mumbai, but most Indians I know speak of it as Bombay), and how it was the most beautiful city in the world. My friends taught me Hindi and Sinhalese words (obviously the swear words first...), and told me about their favorite Bollywood movies. My friend Nish started sharing songs with me, and I was instantly hooked. I remember so vividly my first reactions to Hindi songs, that they were so completely beautiful. The way love and people and everything was described was so magical and new and meaningful. Even when I think about it today, I am still astounded. Everything in Hindi music is so romantic. The love songs make you feel like you yourself are falling in love and the sad songs and completely heartbreaking.
All of these experiences and stories-from my friends, from the songs, and from the films-even though they were not mine, only drew me closer to India. When my high school (and part of college) boyfriend and I broke up, I stayed in touch with my Indian and Sri Lankan friends, and my love for Indian culture only grew. Nish would send me song after song after song, and he would painstakingly (THANKS, NISH :)) translate songs for me line by line. He would find me links to movies with subtitles to watch. I began to find my own songs and seek out translations. I began to watch so many movies that I started to recongnize certain words. First, Shaadi (wedding/marriage...obviously that's the first word you learn in Bollywood), then Kya hua (what happened?), and then the words for love-Prem, pyaar, aashiqui- and so on. I became more curious about Hinduism and the social structure of India. I started reading and asking questions. And I haven't stopped.
Then, the spring of my first year of teaching, I decided, finally, to go. I remember exactly the day. I remember sitting at my desk during my prep hour and I just said to myself I'm going to India. I said it out loud. I knew that if I didn't just go now, I never would. I had just gotten my tax return, and it was almost enough to cover the ticket alone. I had friends to stay with, so I wouldn't have to stay in a hotel. So, I planned that I would save my tax return from this year and next year, and go to India. But, I also knew myself well enough to know that if I didn't tell someone, I could easily back out. So, when I went to lunch after my prep hour, I found Megan and told her. "I'm going to India. Next Summer. I'm going." And she was so excited for me. And that's how it happened.
Finally the time came. I had been approved for a 10 year, multiple entry visa, and I had booked my ticket for about a 5 week stay. We planned to go to Goa, Agra, Delhi, Jaipur, and Udaipur...and of course time to explore Mumbai. I also planned an 11 day trip to Sri Lanka to visit my friend there and see the country. I had just finished a really hard year, professionally, and I needed this more than I thought I did.
My time in India has been some of the most fulfilling and content time I've experienced, although my time in Nepal is giving me a similar feeling. I felt so connected and passionate about Indian culture, and when I arrived, I felt like I belonged. Something clicked, and I just felt like I was home. I loved the people and daily life. Nish's friends so graciously accepted me into their group of friends. They all welcomed me to their homes and showed such genuine friendship towards me. Nish's family took good care of me, made sure I had everything I wanted and needed, and showered me with love and care.I loved hearing the Hindi and Marathi everywhere. And THE FOOD. Looking around at all of the clothes and the people bustling about in the street and sitting in the car and turning the car on to Hindi music, I felt at home. I cannot properly describe the completeness I felt and just how the experience was for me. Sure, I had some struggles and frustrations during my time, but for the most part they were trivial. I am unbelievably luck that I got to go to the places I did. I got to see Vasai and Delhi and Rajasthan. I loved all of the places I went, but even after the small trips, I felt happy to be home in Vasai. I was able to experience two festivals- Dahi Handi and Ganpati- while I was there. I was blown away by the welcoming spirit everyone showed to me. I grew used to the noise at night and in the morning-the barkinng dogs, cows and goats, horn honking, drums, call to prayer from the local mosque, and eve the full on band music. In complete honesty, I am totally butchering everything I want to say about my time in India. I'm not doing it justice, or adequately explaining how I felt there, but I don't know if I can. All I can say is that I felt content, happy, and that I finally found a place to which I belonged.
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| Our famous after Goa selfie! |
As a multi-racial daughter of a Korean adoptee, I have always felt like I struggled to find my cultural identity. I never felt like I fit into the truly "American" narrative, and people knew I wasn't "completely white," but because my mom was adopted at such a young age from Korea and raised by a white American family that I didn't feel in touch with my Korean Heritage. In high school and college, I struggled with my identity and how to define who I was. I struggled, too, because others wanted to define me. I didn't know what to tell them because I was so unsure myself. Some days I said I was Korean, some days I said I was German (where my dad's side of the family came from many years ago), and some days I would say both. This is true even today, however, I don't feel the need to put myself into those labels as much, and I don't feel the need to let others to either.
This confusion about my cultural identity, I believe, is what really started my curiosity about cultures and intensified my love for Indian culture. I didn't feel connected to the culture I was born into, and I was so distant from the culture of my mom's past, that I felt the need to find a place where I belonged. And while I was in India, for the first time, I felt like I belonged. I felt that I believed and understood and embodied the culture around me. I felt home and I felt happy. Now, I'm sure my Indian friends would disagree with my belonging to Indian culture--to them, they can clearly see my American upbringing--but I didn't mind too much. I just felt so at ease and comfortable in a culture, and I was happy about it. (Sure, there were people who looked at me and were confused about me; I'll never escape that. I look multi-racial, and people want to know which "boxes"I belong in).
About a month into my trip, I decided to extend my trip. I wanted to stay for the Ganpati festival. I didn't have a teaching position to return to in the fall, so if I was going to be unemployed, it may as well be in India. Actually, what I decided was that I wanted to teach in India. I wanted to find a job there, have my own flat, and live my happy Indian life. So, I decided that's what I would do. I was going to search for a job, then transfer my visa and move into an apartment. I was determined not to let this happiness and acceptance that I had finally found escape me. I called my parents and broke the news to them. They were supportive of my decision; weary and a bit nervous, but completely supportive. After Ganpati, we'd start searching for apartments for me.
Things didn't happen as planned, and I had to return early. Some logistic-I was scared I was going to mess up my visa- and some personal. I was completely devastated. Here I was, in a place I truly adored and loved, with people I loved equally, and now I had to leave.
My last few days in India were so fun, but a bit tearful. My last day, Nish took me to run a few errands and get a few last minute things to bring home, and we went home to pack. My flight wasn't until after midnight, and I'm a last minute packer. I convinced Nish that he should hang out with me while I pack (I simply cannot pack alone. I need moral support). I started taking all of my clothes and trinkets and folding them an sorting them into piles. After only a few minutes, I started to feel my throat clench up and get that shallow breathing--all the things that happen when you know you're about to cry. "It's not all going to fit" I tried to say as I started sobbing. I don't use that word lightly here. I was sobbing...and I'm not a pretty crier.... and I just cried. I sat there on the floor in my room and I cried. Then, Nish comforted me (this is a once-in-a-lifetime...he's more of a "STOP CRYING NOW!" kind of comforter), asked me to please stop crying, and packed all of my suitcases for me. All the while, I continued to cry. I just wasn't ready to leave. I wasn't ready to leave my friends, my culture, or my new life. They took me to the airport, and we took some group photos (SORRY I LOST CAMERA). I said goodbye to the entire group, and then cried the entire way to my plane. I cried through check-in, security, boarding, and take-off. I watched movies and cried.
Leaving India is one of the hardest things I have experienced. I was sad to leave a place I felt so connected to. I also felt like I had failed. I had always wanted to live outside the US and teach abroad, and I felt like I lost my chance. I felt like I had failed myself. I felt weak. I felt completely defeated. Looking back, I now know this is not true. When I returned home to the US (after jet lag, reverse culture shock, and the complete depression of being back in America), I started to take back control of my life. If I wanted to teach abroad and live outside the US, I still could. Just because it didn't work out for me to turn my vacation into a job and future life in India didn't mean I had to give up on this new dream. So, I applied to the overseas recruiting fair. I interviewed at schools, and it ultimately led me to Kathmandu. I probably wouldn't be here today if I didn't 1) decided to finally go to india and 2) have to leave. Leaving India wasn't my choice; it was forced upon me. And I was so angry, depressed and resentful. Retrospectively, leaving India gave me the motivation and courage to pursue this dream and a whole new lifestyle. When I first started the process, I really wanted to be in India. Then, I got a note from the Director at place called Lincoln School in Kathmandu, asking for an interview. I figured I'd go, and fell in love with the school quite instantly. It's amazing how we can blind ourselves to the world and opportunities in it without even trying.
So, all in all, my heart is still heavy about leaving India. Sometimes, I still wonder what my life would be like if I was still there. I wonder what I'd be doing and who I would be if I had never left. What would it be like to be in a place where I truly embraced the culture around me? But, most importantly, I am grateful for the excruciating experience because it has led me to where I am now. (This seems to have been the theme of my life in 2014...) Leaving India has led me to this beautiful and exciting journey in Kathmandu: a journey in overseas teaching, in adjustment, in regaining confidence, and in trying new things. I am forever grateful for that.
The last thing I'd like to leave you with is a little something from my travel journal during my time in India. I did a horrid job with journaling, but I did have a few entries. On my second day in India, I wrote this:
There's something about this place. I can't put my finger on it, but I love it. I'm still adjusting, but I already know this place will have my heart. I will always long to come back to it. My heart and whole body will long for it. I won't want to leave it. Mumbai, I can't wait to see what you have in store for me.
Even today, I couldn't say it better myself. Until next time, India.
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