Welcome to India.

"Shit!" Milan Kumar, my young driver exclaimed as he mutters a quick prayer and makes the sign of the cross or just an "x" on the windshield. A striped tabby has just run in front of our taxi. "I thought only black cats were bad luck," I pipe up from the back seat. "No. No. Lady - all cats... very, very, bad luck." Excellent. We are just leaving the airport and my trip hasn't even started.

India hits you full frontal from the second you arrive. People are everywhere, and I do mean everywhere, personal space just doesn't exist here. Riding in the taxi reminds me of being in New York. The idea of passing involves beeping enough that the car in front of you creates a third lane in a two lane street so you can pass on either side. I am so glad I was talked out of renting a car, it would of been signing my own death certificate. As we zip along through the streets of Delhi to my hotel, I am struck by the fact that there is so much dust. It reminds me of driving in Costa Rica, but the difference is - in Costa Rica the streets were actually dust, but here the streets are paved, but there are just piles of dirt on the side of the road, as if it was too much trouble to remove the dirt when putting the road in. In downtown, at least what I've seen it, there are stores upon stores, right next to hovels where people are gathered around pit fires, sleeping under make shift housing, clothes drying on downed electrical lines. I am not in the glamourous part of town. I know this.

Getting here has been an adventure. My travel started from North Carolina to home on Tuesday night for a quick bag change and then back to the airport to come to Delhi. I estimate I have now been up for almost 36 hours with intermittent airplane sleep. I came here with a cough that's been plaguing me for three days. It seems to be nothing, certainly not enough to keep me home - no fever, no pain, just a dry pointless cough, but I did feel bad for anyone sitting near me. When dismembarking from the plane I had to fill out a H1N1 questionnaire, as well as have my temperature taken via a thermal body scanning device. I held my breath through the line, praying to not go into a coughing fit. "Have you had any fever, coughing, been exposed to anyone who may have had H1N1?" I blatently lied, knowing full well that practically half the people I know in New Hampshire have had it or been exposed to it. Luckily, I made it through - I caught a glimpse of the quarantine area - not a place I'd want to spend the night. I thought I was home free, but alas they insisted on a bag and body search. Pulled into a little dark room off the customs area with one other woman, I was patted down thoroughly (thankfully by a woman) - it's been a while since anyone's hands were well - "there" shall we say. My bags were completely emptied, but I was released. Thankfully, Milan was still waiting for me. The hotel called to check on me as I was running so late from expected arrival.

As we're zipping along, it brought back memories of the summer I lived in Florence. I was barely 21. I remember arriving at the airport in Paris for a flight change. I was so nervous that I thought I would throw up. Instead I went to information to find a place to smoke to calm my nerves and they sent me outside of the airport. When I came back in, I noticed everyone in the airport was smoking, and the ladies at information were laughing at me. Playing a joke on the stupid American. So naive. My first night in Florence, I was swept off my feet by some young Italian who took me to the top of Santa Croce to 'look at the stars.' He actually said "you know I could rape you, you shouldn't trust random men in Italy." Lesson learned. He became a friend and a protector for the rest of my time in Italy, a friend that time and distance has lost. He was hoping to meeting an American girl whose father owned Pepsi that he could marry. Lucky for me - I wasn't that girl. I look back at how naive I was, and how young. Older and wiser now I travel more safely, and more aware. Thank God I didn't come here when I was young - I think the city would of eaten me alive. I don't know how young girls now a days do it. Milan, in between cell phone talking and beeping must of read my mind, he looks back "Lady, lock your door."

My hotel is well - how do I put this - filthy. But the people are kind, and I have a bed to sleep in - which is more than I can say for many here. Luckily I brought almonds and peanut-butter-chocolate-wafery bar goodness to snack on - this is dinner. I'm in for the night - I thought initially I might go for a walk, but noticed that there are very few women on the streets, none are alone. So I think I'll count my blessings and just rest. I'm not sure when I'll be writing again. Hopefully I can find an outlet that works and that will convert energy to my computer. If not, I may be relying on internet cafes.

Oddly, despite all the chaos, I feel complete at peace. Once, when I was trying to find comparisons for Hindu religion to Christianity I was sending regular emails back and forth with the scholar Georg Feuerstein. I kept asking, "is it like this?" and he kept saying, "no." I kept trying to make comparisons, and to each and every one he responded "no, it's not like that at all." Finally, after about the tenth time he wrote "You must find comfort in the chaos that is Hinduism." I didn't email him again after that.

I'm already finding comfort in the chaos. Tommorow sightseeing in Delhi. Ah - India.