Departure

My last day at work and final evening and morning of packing were quite uneventful and even somewhat unemotional.  It felt like I was heading on another field visit, and that I’d be back next week.  It didn’t hit.  But perhaps that is for the best.

Artwork in Delhi airport

My long trip home (five flights, six airports, three countries) began with two domestic flights (Hyderabad-Mumbai-Delhi; this route defies logic, as there are aplenty of Hyderabad-Delhi flights…).  Given I switched airlines and from domestic to international in Delhi, upon check-in in Hyderabad I was informed that the free baggage allowance on domestic flights is maximum 15kg.  I laughed.  The scale showed closer to 45kg.  There was no way out of it, no re-packing or taking more carry on. Time to pay up.  During this short Hyderabad-Mumbai flight, an attendant came to me with a meal and asked “ma’am, did you order a meal?”  I replied no, but he insisted it was for me.  Almost nobody else had a meal, except for business class (as on this flight meals are specially ordered and paid for in advance).  It seemed like some ironic, small consolation prize – I had just paid Rs.5000 ($87) for overweight luggage, but got a free meal (perhaps by the travel agency that booked my flight? or the check-in clerk who felt bad for me, when I tried to explain how far I was travelling and that I’d just been in India for six months.)

Alps in the distance

In Mumbai as I was going through security a westerner ahead of me made her annoyance well known when she was asked to unpack further electronics from her back-pack.  “This is the most inefficient and ineffective security check I have ever seen! That is just my make-up bag!” etc. I just stood and almost started laughing as she got increasingly annoyed.  Part of me knows that feeling, and I do agree with her (Indian airports insist on this hand luggage tag stamping process, the value of which I am yet to fully appreciate).  But I also wanted to tell her: “If you can’t handle the security check at an Indian airport, then you really can’t handle India!” Even as I find the process inefficient, I have learned this is how it is.  No point in getting annoyed, even as other ladies (there are always gender separated security checks) push and try to get ahead in the queue.  And yet I also felt a bit proud: I have learned how to not allow India to “get” to me.  I have found new levels of patience.  (Of course, I have plenty of my own moments of great annoyance, including that very morning when an auto-rickshaw driver tried to ask for double a reasonable price by claiming the destination was twice as far as it was… I just walked away. I knew better.) 

With a slightly delayed flight, I grabbed an iced tea latte at The Coffee Bean.  They claimed it was some kind of chai – but I was disappointed.  It was that taste of Westernised packaged chai; not what I was used to in India.  From here on out, I decided, I better avoid any kind of “chai” beverages until my taste buds forget what the real Indian masala version tastes like.

In Delhi I met a colleague who had spent six months in Rajasthan – the first Canadian I met all this time.  Over a late, large and final Indian dinner at the Delhi airport, I already felt like I had left the country – after all, airports are so universal, you could almost be anywhere.  It didn’t even seem strange to see so many foreigners.

Snow in Zurich

In Zurich we were met with snow.  (Any fleeting thoughts of leaving the airport during the 6-hour layover were quickly dashed as I looked out at the snow, and looked down at my bare feet and lack of jacket.)  Nonetheless, from inside the airport, over a cup of good coffee, it finally started to feel like I was going home, and my first thoughts of Christmas entered.  Suddenly I wanted to head straight home, and jump into winter sports activities and embrace the season.  Yet two more weeks at the Coady Institute await.

My colleague and I had many hours in multiple airports to share our experiences in India, while also making half-hearted attempts at writing up our final reports.  Here are just a few highlights:

– As a foreigner, you get taken along to a variety of meetings that may or may not be directly relevant to your work. Rather, it may be the organisation is in part using you as an object of their status.  (In India there is a long history of distrust of NGOs by the government as well as the general public, in part dating back to Indira Gandhi’s emergency in the 1970s.  Yet even in recent years legislation has increasingly regulated NGO work, particularly for cooperatives and those receiving foreign funding. India has over three million NGOs – approximately one for every 400 people – while the average number of paid staff is three employees, with the remainder as volunteers. Suspicion of money laundering, tax avoidance, or general un-professionalism abounds.

– Staff turnover at NGOs can be a problem, as qualified social sector professionals working at one of the good NGOs in India are also likely to get a government job (which offers more stability, pay, and shorter hours).

– Making jokes is one of the most challenging things across language barriers.  While I had more English-speaking colleagues, I still found that it was hard to deliver a subtle one-liner; while my colleague learned some Hindi and could make a simple context-specific joke.  I appreciate the many laughs I have had since my return to Canada.

– While the moustaches in Rajasthan are impressive wax-twisters, in Andhra Pradesh moustaches are somewhat more subdued.

Typical Rajasthani moustache (credit: thechatterjis.wordpress.com)

– Sunburns are not so well understood in India.  While my Indian colleagues made frequent invitations for me to wash my sunscreen-shiny face, my Canadian colleague recalled how his work colleagues wanted to take him to the hospital when he got a sunburn.

– As Canadians, while we may not be the best with heat – at least we can handle the ‘cold’ when it drops to 14^oC at night. (This kind of overnight temperature makes headline news in Hyderabad, followed by calls for handing out of free blankets to the homeless.)  That being said, I am still somewhat uncomfortable with the snow storm I am seeing outside my window at the moment… and my run this morning, in hail and high winds, was among the most miserable I have had in the past seven months.  I sure am missing Hyderabad weather right about now…