shewasavisitor

KW 6:41 PM
A random tourist just brought me roses. He then wanted to go for a walk on the beach. Flower shops are not on the main drag!

JR 6:45 PM
Haha, hope you let him down gently you little heart breaker

***

I brought these roses back with me. They’re lying on the floor of my fridge which is empty enough that I can see them every time I open it. I kept the roses because someone was open-hearted and -minded enough to try to spark an international romance. It’s hard to find people who would take a risk and face certain challenges for love.

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On the train back to Delhi I sat beside Gogi. Her English is better than most others’ and so we talked. She asked me a question I’d been asked two dozen times already – the one about whether I’m married, and if not, why not. I didn’t want to get into my personal history with her so I just shrugged and answered that I’d not met that person yet.

Marriage, she told me, is the game changer. A woman feels different after she is married.

Here are some photos of women:

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From my notes,

~10:15pm. Visa, etc: easy. Lots of Westerners on plane incl 5 French 40-somethings all highly organised with maps, notes, printouts, bad breath. Feel like I am having a bit of culture shock.
Sri Lanka upon first breath = humid and sweet. Rupee exchange rate = ridiculous. I find what I sense to be a decent driver. We take the toll highway (translation in explaining this = muddy). Drive I’m told = 2+ hours. 1 hour in: crash. I lock my door, hold my belongings more closely, turn on interior light. Calm myself by writing. Police, driver + ~8 bystanders swarm the car in the dark. My appearance = cheered. Someone tries to jostle open my door several times. I remain calm and keep my head down. My sore throat keeps me distracted.
Two hours of sitting. Driver re-enters car, the bumper = stringed to the car’s body. Police pull away. Leering and cheering fade into the nighttime jungle. Driver apologises profusely. He thanks me for being calm; he thought I would cause a fuss. I told him I’d never been more scared. We turn off the radio and drive slowly, chatting. I share my granola bar. We speak about stereotypes and the importance of having a good heart in this world. ~ 3:00am. I can now hear crashing waves. I’ve never been closer to the equator.

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Happy Valentine’s Day

Last night, in the jumbo bridal bed with our freshly mehndi’d appendages awkwardly suspended from the mattress, E and I shared a moment. It was the first time we’d cried together in a long while.
Love is pretty great.

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Delhi’s Chandni Chouk (via Jama Masjid and Darya Ganj).

“A bit rustic” says Balkar.
Here’s a random sampling of photos taken on the day we needed to buy bangles.

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Since arriving and acclimatising*, I have not shed one single fret. I’m shocked and will occasionally force-ponder the usual rolodex of stuff but I just can’t seem to genuinely bring myself there.

People, places, things: I’m not thinking about you like I said I would.

*I can no longer smell “burning rubber”, which I have learned is benzene.

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Delhi smells of burning rubber. The hazy sky is orange at night, and my eyes – wide with wonder – will not shut.
I wake to a flurry of preparing. The preparing is ongoing. I am integral; entrenched.

Flowers bought at gurudwara after sewa are the most holy.

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