Chennai/Madras—Day 2

I dismayed that my writings thus far express apprehension and frustration. Because that’s not really how I’m feeling.

Look, it’s India. There are going to be bugs in the hotel room. The sheets are going to be stained. There will be someone else’s hair lingering in the shower. It is what it is.

Boys will be boys whether they’re Romanian, Indian, French or American.

I will be swindled and cheated and will spend more money than necessary because I am wealthy in comparison to the families who live and die in the slums lining the river outside my hotel room.

And as long as I continue to sample something from every single bowl in the buffet, I will be surprised by the spiciness of the food.


The truth is, I’m learning a lot about India on my own, as I so love to do. I’m even doing something that I’ve been dying to do for ages: nothing. Aside from my brief ventures into the city, between the pages of Shantaram and the GRE Study Test, I’ve fallen victim to frequent naps. And it feels so lovely.


Sure, I’m eager to discover the magic of India of which everyone speaks. It just can’t be found within the four walls of the Comfort Inn, or the instructions of WikiTravel, or the voices of locals who don’t really want to help. But I’m confident I will fall under its spell within the next 48 hours. Just wait & see.


p.s. Studying for the GREs has made me realize what a ridiculous tool they are and how absurd it is that we test people like monkeys on these so-called “skills.” My practice scores are impressive—especially considering how much I have(n’t) studied—but I take each one with sarcasm and occasional fits of laughter. Please. I can promise these questions don’t even come close to measuring the true capacity of anyone’s brain… or spirit.