Standing in the open train door, 70 miles an hour, past villages waking up…this is how I spent my second morning in India. It’s 6:30 a.m. and I am wearing the sari I slept in, smelling of sweat and dirt and train. A novel could be written about the train.

It’s evening now, and the task at hand is to find the vegetable market (subzi mundi) and get some odds and ends…a clothes line, candles, soap, and kitchen goods. Most of the day has been spent in cleaning and arranging the house to make it feel more like home. Little green lizards called geckos run everywhere. One of them took shelter in the lantern I picked up while cleaning this afternoon, and suddenly it was sitting on my hand. I studied its beautiful lime green skin. Both of us were surprised.

I will write more in a day or so. I’m getting a blast of Hindi film music as i write, and it’s a little hard to hear my own mind. I should get used to it in a couple days, since silence never happens anywhere I go in the city. I can barely contain my excitement when I see how many paper kites are being flown from the roof-tops by the children. It’s still the season for it. We are going to buy 20 of them and bring them home in our suitcase, so those are also on our shopping list. One of my more successful Hindi phrases is: “Mujhe patang bohut pasand hai!” But telling the vegetable seller “I really like kites!” won’t help me get the greens I need. Emergency lessons in numbers happens shortly. As my language increases, my fear will decrease, and i will find my own footing. Right now i can only tell Chris not to blow my cover by translating everything into English for me when he has a conversation with a local.

I need a drink… something cold. They sell an orange fizzy drink in India called “Mirinda.” It’s my favourite.
Peace to you M.

Our place in Varanasi, for the month of September.