Entry #1
May 2, 2014
This is the first entry of many, and I'm not exactly sure where to start. At this sentence in my journal and for every sentence following, I utilize cursive. Personal preference and all. It is a shame that Blogger.com will not allow for a similar font. I am currently on the plane to Delhi. I have no idea how long the flight is or what time it is because I'm sure my watch is completely wrong.
As I get closer to my destination, one thought becomes painstakingly loud and clear in the forefront of my mind. That thought is, "I can't believe I'm actually doing this." If anyone knows me at all, they're probably thinking the same thing. I'm the stereotypical, sheltered, suburban, white chick who is especially skilled in the art of laziness. I'm almost certain I spend 80% of my life lying in a bed. I have almost zero experience with any other cultures. I tense up when people question me about Judaism for fear I will have no correct answer. I was bat mitzvahed after five years of Hebrew school, for crying out loud! I consider myself open-minded (more like indifferent), but this is just about bursting my comfort bubble. I'm not too scared or worried, simply anxious, I suppose.
I keep over-analyzing things, as is my forte and downfall. Will I learn clinically valuable information? Will this trip be enough to make me desirable to grad schools? Will I be able to just let go and enjoy myself? Will I really open my eyes and become as accepting as I want to be or as everyone thinks I will become? Will I get to volunteer at the neurology center? Will I survive the heat and hikes in the mountains? Will I make enough of an impression on any of the doctors to earn a positive recommendation letter? Will my darn movie screen work at all during this never ending flight? Will I be able to handle Indian food?? I think not. Judging from the food we received on the plane thus far, I can not handle anything spicy.
I once read somewhere that redheads can withstand spicy foods better than persons born without the ginger curse. I think the author meant to say, "In a life-or-death situation, redheads can maybe tolerate spicy food like the rest of the world can, but still probably not." His editor probably made him rewrite it rather than offend us gingers. I'm not offended; I'm a total wimp when it comes to spice. I suppose the food is just something I will have to take one step at a time once I am there, as are the rest of my whimsical worries.
I must admit to the things that have given me comfort and reassurance thus far on my aerial adventures. Aside from the amazing support and love my friends are sending from a thousand miles away, I am feeling far less insecure about the language and cultural barrier I am facing. After a brief flash of fear when I looked around and realized I was literally the ONLY white female in the airport terminal, I calmed down and found that communication was not difficult at all. I discovered on the flight to Chicago that I have gifts when it comes to memorizing Sanskrit phrases and words quickly. Unfortunately my pronunciation of foreign words is slightly less than prodigal. This is okay seeing as every Indian I have met so far speaks fantastic English.
To digress on a tangent, this fact fascinates me. I'm not sure of the exact statistic, but I would not be at all surprised if most residents in India spoke both Hindi and English. All students in Israel are required to learn English as a second language. I actually find it frustrating how obsessed with English most Americans are. Most American citizens I know are often intolerant of or easily upset by hearing others speak foreign languages within the United States. I understand English is the nation's primary language, but how can we call ourselves a melting pot if we are unwilling to melt with foreign customs and languages? We instead expect every foreigner to conform to our native customs, languages, and preferences. I have been noticing more and more how close-minded I can be, relying on my snap judgments rather than investing energy to understand a person or situation. Of course I am much more mature in this regard than many others are, and I keep such thoughts to myself. I do not actually let snap judgments affect how I treat others; however, even allowing myself to indulge in such thoughts makes me less than the person I strive to be. I used to blame such character flaws on the way in which I was raised and the lack of diversity in the communities I grew up on. After examining the way America often reacts to foreigners, I feel most of my snap judgments are a product of American society as a whole. Most often, the snap judgments are stereotypes, which are perpetuated by our overall society continuously. How else would we all think that Asians are bad drivers or that Jews are cheap? These are beliefs encouraged by much of the population, which transforms them into generalized stereotypes, often leading to feelings of prejudice of animosity. I fear that I have allowed such negative traits of American society corrupt my mind. I must seek self-improvement, which may be a lifelong struggle involving consistent slaps to my mind and redirection of thoughts. Similarly to an addict, I must become aware of my weakest moments and expand my mind before letting quick judgments snap it shut.
Moving on, I have only met very nice individuals so far. I have encountered many stares as I was warned of, although I can sense that these stares are not born out of malice or lust but instead from wonder and curiosity. They do not make me at all uncomfortable. I almost feel guilty when I catch some one's eye and they quickly turn away in embarrassment. I am not naive enough to think that in India, every person will be as kind, every stare will be as harmless, and every exchange will be as simple, but I have not yet encountered any obstacles. I am hopeful about the upcoming month and can only expect that I will have the amazing journey everyone says I will.
Until next time, journal!
Yeah, this is slightly awkward. No more sign-offs for me.
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