When I arrived in India I knew that someone was going to pick me up from Bangalore International School but that was all. Before I left for India I took on the mindset of what happens, happens. I tried not to create preconceived notions of what my life was going to be like, for if I do this I usually do not have a good a time. I would spend most of my day thinking about how my expectations were not meet. So, when it came to India I just read up on generally held beliefs and customs so I would have a background to build upon. I heard stories of there being many people in India and of drivers bombarding you wanting you to choose THEM as a driver. I did not find that when I arrived, however it was at 2:30 in the morning.
I stepped off the plane and headed to customs, where I would have to show my visa and then be allowed into the country. It is the most stressful part, after traveling that far and then to not be allowed into the country would be . . . lets just say . . . so not cool. So I was a little nervous, however I have been told that U.S. Customs is one of the most difficult customs to get through. I really do not understand how that made me fell better though it some how did. In Italy I just showed them my passport as I walked by the only man there. India was a bit more difficult, they actually asked questions. Before I arrived at customs, I had to go through a health check, or a check to make sure that no one coming into the country had ebola. In a country with so many people, very unsanitary conditions for parts of its population and hot weather a virus like ebola could be very dangerous. So I filled out a paper with my name, where I have been etc., then presented it to one of four men seated at a table. It pretty much went:
Seated Man: Where did you come from?
Me: United States
Seated Man: stamps paper and motions me forward
I was from the U.S. and, with all things considered, we have pretty good heath care even if it is not free. After the heath check I moved on to customs where once again, I also did this in going into Britain, I forgot to fill out the right card. I had to leave the line, go fill it out, and then start back at the end. It was so much fun! And so, I passed through customs:
Other Seated Man: When are you leaving?
Me: My plane leaves on May 7th.
Man: takes a picture of me with a small camera mounted on the desk
Me: is confused about what he was doing and what I was to do, so looked a bit weird and felt a bit stupid
I figured out what I was to do and made it through customs.
It was official, stamp and all, I was in India. My next thoughts focused on the fact that my luggages was to be found on the conveyor belt and not some other country. It is one thing to have your luggage put on the wrong plane when you are returning to home, as I experienced returning from England, as opposed to going somewhere completely new, which I have been lucky to not experienced. After watching a variety of brands and colours (British spelling) make their way past, my fears were found to be hollow. Once my luggage was in hand I had to find where I was to be picked up. Not knowing exactly where I was to go, I somewhat wondered until I figured out what doors I needed to go through. Up to this point I had not meet anyone that was to pick me up. As I made my way outdoors I meet, what I believe to be, airport personal asking me what I was going to do. When I told them someone that was picking me up from Bangalore International School their response were all the same. 'Someone will be outside for you.' I understood what they meant as soon a I came in view of the glass doors.
Imagine around a hundred Indian men, about three deep, leaning against a fence similar to a cattle gate all holding white signs with black lettering. That is what I saw. I found myself inwardly laughing at the number of signs that I would be looking through, took a deep breath and walked toward the automatic doors. Once in view of airport staff I was again asked what my arrangements were, with my response still the same I was motioned forward to look for my sign. I started at the beginning and began running my eyes over every sign, hoping I did not miss mine. I felt a bit strange but made sure I inspected every one for I did not want to start over. About twenty feet from the beginning I found it. Relief mixed with a bit of uncertainty rushed through me. Pointing to the man I told him that I was the one he was to pick up. From the other side of the fence he motioned me to head to the exit and he would meet me there. Everything had gone smoothly to this point and I hoped it would continue.
We headed towards a parking lot where a Bangalore International School (BIS) van was parked, he put my single bag of luggage in the back and we were set to leave. It felt a tad funny to sit in the passenger seat, not because it was in the front but because it was on the left side. Since Britain colonised (you know why it is spelled this way) India up until 1947, cars and the need for roads led to the implementation of rules to road travel, so the UK put their road laws into place in India. Those from other countries such as the U.S. look at this travel as wrong/weird however, if we go back to early road travel, such as the Ancient Romans it was the keep-left rule that ruled.
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In a society were it could be dangerous meeting other travellers one wanted to always be prepared. For a predominately right-handed society, if the rules of the road were keep-right than when meeting a stranger ones left side, non-sword arm, would be presented. This caused traveler to be defenceless if pulled a sword on them. Also, with the sword worn on the left side, one mounted a horse from the left, if the keep-right rule was followed than people would be mounting their horses from the traffic side of the road. The keep-left rule was much more practical.
Than why did it change one can ask. Well there are two good reasons, one being America. When teamsters in the U.S. began hauling larger loads pulled by several pairs of horses they drove on the right side, this was due to their being no seats on the front of these wagons. Drivers would sit to the back left to allow better control of the teams with their right arm. This lead to a blindspot on the right side of the wagons when meeting traffic, so teamsters started driving on the right to make sure they were clear of oncoming traffic, forcing all others to the left.
The French were the other reason. When the French Revolution occurring in 1789, the aristocracy, who previously traveled on the left, forcing the peasants to the right, wanted to hide their positions in society. Considering how aristocrats were rather hated because of their association with a monarchist society, this was a definite survival move. To not stand out, they started driving on the right side to fit in with the lower class. Considering that historians place the number of elite who actually die during the Revolution at between 2-8% of the total, one could say it was not that bad of a move.
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Once in the vehicle we commenced our travel to the BIS hostel that I would call home for the next two months. The journey was rather interesting, I will expound on why in a later post. After about 25ish minutes we pulled up to a four story, grey/white building surrounded by a same coloured wall. The man watching the gate, unlocked and opened it for me to enter. There was about ten feet from the gate to the entry way and then fifteen to the elevator that took me to the third level. A middle age women meet me and showed me to my new bedroom. Tried and ready for something besides a chair to sleep in I welcomed a rather firm bed and fell asleep. I woke up to the view below.
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