on the road again: calcutta

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it's travelin' time. the program hubs and i work for has a two week travel component built into the curriculum, and we've (already!) made it through the first semester in coimbatore. tomorrow morning, we bid farewell to our little city and hop on a plane to calcutta. we'll be taking trains and busses from calcutta to varanasi to delhi to agra to jaipur (not in that order. i think.)


i'm looking forward to calcutta, partly because i haven't ever been. i'm most excited about visiting sisters of charity and an organization called sari bari, which works to rehabilitate women formerly employed in the sex trade. a friend of mine (who i haven't ever met, though i feel like i have!) has some sweet families she has made friends with who live on the streets of this city, and i hope to spend part of my sunday in search of them. personal connections always make visiting new places more interesting, i think.


what's more, i'm excited to see some of north india. i love this country. i love living here. i love the sound of trains and chaiwallas and all of it. even though it's maddening sometimes, i love the chaos.


i wrote this in an email to a friend the other day, and i wanted to share with the four of you who read this. i was writing about how photographs, no matter how great they may be, can't do justice to a place like this. i'll leave you with these words, because true to my style, i haven't started packing yet. we leave in 11 hours.


"the thing with India is that you can’t experience it fully just by seeing it. i’ve taken my fair share of photos which i think are descriptive and beautiful here in this country, but none of them do justice even to the brief moment in time that photo was taken. here’s why: India is an assault to your senses. it’s a taste-smell-touch-hear-see kind of place.  i can show you a picture and tell you about the packed, red city busses and their tendency to operate at 300% capacity, but until you actually hear the fog-horn blare as it comes down the street hitting potholes and swerving around dogs and bicycles and buildings, causing everyone hanging on the outside to hold on for dear life, until you actually try to squeeze yourself in the door and onto the bus, into the chaos of bodies and blaring tamil film music before it rolls away, it’s just not the same.


photographs can’t capture the sound of an autorickshaw or a koal bird or the incessant honking of traffic justice. they can’t describe the overwhelming, nauseating smell of the town trash heap, or the sweet smell of jasmine flowers. they can’t help you feel the frustration i feel at the smells wafting through my kitchen and my lack of ability to recreate them in my own four walls, or communicate the hilarity (and hair-pulling insanity) of Indian standard time. photographs are too limiting. you really have to get here and experience this place for yourself."