A startling realization

And then the impossible happened: I fell in love with India all over again.

To say I wasn't expecting this is a huge understatement. A conversation the day before leaving the US for Delhi:

Tricia: "I'm really excited for India!"

Tyler: "Yea, me too!!"

[30 seconds later]

Tricia: Sigh... "No, I'm not. I just figure I'd say it to convince myself I am."

Tyler: "Yea, me too..."

Even when we touched down at Indira Gandhi international airport, I had a sinking feeling in my heart. I wasn't sure this is where I quite wanted to be, although I was just grateful we were going to live together in the same city. Finally.

So you can understand my surprise when, only one week later, I'm sitting in an auto and realizing, I love it here!!

Maybe it's the uncannily amazing weather that's playing tricks on me. Or my amazing luck with getting the nicest auto drivers. Or my stubborn eczema that we've finally cured this week, so it no longer feels like I'm about to crawl out of my skin. Most probably because we're finally living in the same city.

Whatever it is, it just feels amazing being back; our lives somehow click here.

In a strange way, it feels similar to the high of coming here for the first time. Only looking back, that was more puppy-dog love, where anything was possible and everything was strange and wonderful and different and new.

This time, it's more of a grounded type of love, which incorporates all the frustrations, irritations, and challenges... but despite these (or maybe because of them?), finds beauty and adventure in the mundane.

And that's certainly part of it: everything is an adventure here. Take last night. Tyler comes home at an unbelievably early 6:30pm. We have the whole night to relax and just enjoy each other's company. We have a beer at home and marvel at our scrumptious new packages: we just found a delicious bakery that delivers cakes and loaves to our flat.

Then we head out to Lajpat Nagar to buy a new pillow. This would be just another errand anywhere else. But in India, it's an adventure. The neighborhood has a carnival-like feel to it. There are numerous stalls of "American-style corn", fried aloo, and chaat. The streets are way too small for the number of vehicles on it, and even on our sleek motorcycle, it's hard to weave our way through. There are armed policemen on guard standing on makeshift wooden platforms, looking down below. Bicycle rickshaws abound, and everywhere are small stores for housewares, clothing, and electronics. We emerge not only with a pillow, but with an electric tandoor as well -- having fun negotiating over a few hundred rupees (my Hindi teacher corrects my way-too Americanized accent when I relate the story this morning: "TUN-door").

We head back home, and I only wish we had a picture of what we must have looked like on Tyler's Yamaha bike: he in front, with a giant cardboard box in front of him (our brand new "TUN-door" electric oven); then me riding on the back. Between us is another large cardboard box holding our new (large) pillow. My arms are stretched over this box between his arms, reaching out to hold onto the electric tandoor and make sure it doesn't fall off while Tyler drives.

We laugh the whole way home, while I think to myself: Only in India.