Here I sit at the Dubai International airport with my purse
tucked carefully behind my legs (see I've learned lessons) and my first cup of
Starbucks in 7 months. Dubai might be
the worst airport for me to be in right now considering how I have the layover
of all layovers (18 hours before my next flight, and on my way home I'll have
23 hours!), not to mention the unfortunate fact that I've recently been
suffering from consumerism-withdrawal.
And by that I mean my heart has been waiting to get to Tokyo so I can
once again flit around the big, bright city tossing the Japanese government my
hard earned cash in return for lots of shiny things. Yes I realize I'm not fulfilling my duties as
an Oberlin grad to shun all that represents the evil consumerist American but I
can't help it. Tokyo was like a
playground and for that brief window of time I was there I had zero financial worries seeing how the
Japanese government was so kindly paying me to "study" in their
country. While India has been a
different type of playground I have definitely been looking forward to going
back to my former stomping grounds.
Unfortunately the Dubai airport has me shaking like a crack addict. It's as if someone crammed all of Ginza into
an airport and it doesn't help that all the salespeople smile at you
innocently, reconciling your worries away by reassuring you it's all duty
free!
Which is
how I ended up sitting at Starbucks with a new pair of headphones. Woops.
I rationalized the decision with the fact that eventually I was going to
have to replace my stolen headphones so why not go for it when there's no
tax? However it has been a much greater
battle in keeping myself away from the MAC counter. I try to remind myself that in about 30 hours
or so I'll be able to shop to my heart's content, with my lovely prize of
mineralized eye shadow not far behind.
So far it's worked the first 5 hours, let's see how I hold up after the
next 13. This might be difficult as
every time I lift up my right arm I can smell the Fendi perfume a saleslady
sprayed (more like doused really) on me.
Damn it smells good...
But this
isn't a blog about my newly discovered materialistic ways. It's a blog about India! And I'll be the first to admit I haven't been
very good about keeping it updated.
Especially since that last entry left us on such a sour note I figured
what better time than now! Part of the
reason I haven't said much is because I've been trying to decide what I should
talk about next; most of my stories have calmed down from stalkers and leeches
to minor bumps in the road. But then,
after I thought about it, I realized those probably aren't minor bumps so much
as I've just stopped batting an eye at the craziness surrounding me sometimes.
Take for
instance the day that Jamuna, the lady who works at the International Studies
Center right across from my room, walked in on me topless one day. Or I might have been naked....I can't recall
at this point but you get the idea, I was "indecently" exposed. Now I have to start this off by saying that I
had a feeling this might happen. Why you
might ask? Well I'm sure most people are
aware of this but just in case it's never occurred to you before, India is
hot. Really hot. Like fry an egg on the sidewalk hot. And while my consumerism may be showing more
than my fellow Obies, I can say without hesitation that I am right up there
with the kids who religiously take craps at the Environmental Studies Center
when it comes to conservation (although maybe not quite as diligent as those who
skip showers for whole weeks). I try my
best not to turn the air conditioner they have just last year put into my room
and when I break down (which happens quite often) I keep it in a certain
temperature range. And I don't mind
doing this because there are many other ways in keeping yourself cool.
Such as
walking around your room in just your underwear. Personally I prefer cooling off this way over
an air conditioner, mostly because sitting around in the clothes you've been
sweating in all day isn't very appealing to me.
But anyways I think we are all getting the picture, when Jazmin goes
back to her room at the end of the day (or really at any point) there's a good
chance she might not be dressed for company.
Some may say this is foolish as I live on a school campus. And I would tell those people that maybe they
should try sitting in a sauna for an hour without taking anything off.
Now the
second reason I thought this might happen is because Jamuna, as well as pretty
much anyone who comes knocking on my door, have a tendency to ignore what
subtle meaning might lay behind a closed door.
That is to say they don't give up if you don't answer after their first
knock. In fact they don't even give you
a chance to answer. It usually goes like
this:
*Knock*
"Jazmiiiiiin?"
- 1
Second Pause -
*door
rattles* "Jazmiiiiin"?
Now, unless
I've locked the door than after that first 'Jazmin', the door is opening. Even when I have locked it there have been a
few times where whoever was on the other side was desperate enough that they
shimmied the lock open. One girl simply
opened my door, poked her head in and shouted my name. So much for privacy.
During
each of those previous times I would laugh and shake my head thinking how one
of these days they are going to learn the hard way that you should give
whoever's on the other side of that door time to pull themselves together. I knew that one day they were going to see
something they would regret. I just
hoped that maybe it would happen to someone else.
And so
that day came. That particular afternoon
I had been running around campus, sweating like a pig, and waiting for the
moment when I could run into my room, turn on the AC and strip. 5:00 rolled around and I figured it was as
good a time to go to the gym, meaning that I would have to go to my room and
change. In my giddy haste to finally be
rid of my oppressingly hot churidar (seriously how do the girls in Madurai do
it?) I didn't lock my door. I should
have known better but in my mind all of this would only take me a few seconds,
not long enough for someone to come barreling in. Not to mention there was that small stubborn
side of me that felt if someone was foolish enough to open a closed door without
knocking well then they deserved to be red in the face for a while. Course I didn't think it would actually happen.
But
there I was, sitting on my bed scrolling down through iTunes looking for just
that right song to get me ready for the gym when I heard that all too familiar
voice screeching my name.
"Jazmiiiiiiiin?"
There
was barely a millisecond between hearing Jamuna's voice right outside my door
and then seeing her, bright sari and all, staring at me while I clutched at my
chest. For a minute we just kind of
stared at each other with this confusion and terror; it was as if her opening
that door on me being practically naked caused a very important shift in our
relationship but neither one of us knew what should happen next. Which of course meant we both started
squawking at each other like birds.
"I'm
sorry, sorry, sorry Jazmin!"
"Sorry
Jamuna!" Why was I
apologizing? I had no idea. I might have just scarred a lovely Indian
woman with my clear lack of shame, seemed appropriate at the time. Of course I had done nothing wrong besides
forgetting to lock my door but still.
She left
quickly shutting the door, with perhaps more force than necessary, and I just
kind of sat on my bed for a minute absorbing what just happened. Then I just started laughing. I had been saying it all along and it finally
happened, a part of me felt a little justified.
Like, 'Ha! You want to barge into
my room like that well then you pay the price!'
But mostly I just thought it was hilarious and thankfully so did
Jamuna.
I quickly met her outside and we
just kind of laughed at each other, she gave me a hug and shakes me a
little. It took her a minute to get her bearings straight, although I don't blame her, and then she suddenly remembered why she had barged into my room in the first place. Turns out she had been searching for a knife and figured that I would definitely have one (and of course she also figured I would be clothed but that just goes to show that you should never assume anything).
Another
day in Madurai and another lesson learned.
If you ever decide to get naked in your own room, you better lock that
door and put a chair against it cause you never know when a determined young
lady in a sari might try to kick down your door (that also has happened but
that's a different story). Although I guess I should say the lesson is that I shouldn't assume that just because I'm in my room I can do as I please. Unfortunately I'm probably not going to change my habit of getting out of my churidar as soon as I get into my room, mostly because I'm stubborn but also because a closed door is still (and in my mind will always be) an indicator that you should wait for permission before entering.
