Gifts of the Unfamiliar

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I’ve been writing a lot about India lately. I’ll be going back in less than two months and it’s been on my mind.

As I’ve mentioned before, India is not for everyone. But I don’t think you can know if it’s for you or not unless you visit. I have a few friends who have gone and their sentiment is, “I went, I’m glad I went, but I don’t need to go back.” I get it.

Others I know who have visited India are as perplexed as I am about why they want to keep going back.

Maybe it’s a particular city or town that draws them in. Or the food. Or the temples and architecture.

For me it’s a feeling. I am simultaneously lost and home. I am removed from the familiar and insanely present to my current surroundings.

Perhaps that’s the gift of traveling anywhere unfamiliar. You have to find your way. You cannot be the same you that sits on your back porch sipping coffee every morning. Or the same you that runs up to the grocery store for a forgotten item. You’re starting over, building who you are here – wherever here is.

India is kind in that way. Most Indians speak English. Most will smile and nod as you tantrum about the way it should be. Most will accept you as you are.

Visiting India can never be as simple as shopping in Jaipur, staying on a house boat in Goa or walking the grounds of the Taj Mahal.

That’s simply the first sentence.

I would love to take everyone I know to India. Its gifts are rare and unique and not always obvious and quick.

India takes its time with you. It’s in no hurry.

As I prepare to go back I work on letting go of expectations. Even though I’ve been to the same places many times there is always some nugget of wisdom waiting for me.

I wonder what it will be this time.

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