One of the most lovely parts of India are its people. I haven’t met all 1.3 billion of them but I have a hunch it’s a trend. (Remember the US has a measly 330 million). They are definitely unified as a nation (Kashmir is a separate story) but, despite the rise in nationalism in India, most people don’t seem to be quick to say they’re “Indian”. They are very proud of their specific cultural heritage. Most Indians have lived in the same region, at minimum, or town for generations and it also says a lot about them.

I started my travels in Rajasthan. Raj meaning King and stan meaning place. Each area had a ruler and the main cities also had a chosen color. Udaipur, where I stayed, is the white city. Also the wonderfully charming Mount Abu littered with langurs, jaguars (thus the barbed wire around our jungle hotel), and parrots pays homage to the Raj who used the mountain as their summer retreat and at from their city palaces. Best part? The palaces now serve as hotels as do the summer retreats. And we stayed in both.

Now in Gujarat, the mothership of craft and textiles. Gujurati people are also often referred to as the business people of India. Over
​8.5 million people live in this bustling city, a 2.5 percent population increase from 2021. In the recent festival 15,000 vehicles were purchased - 11,000 motorbikes. Have you heard of Ahmedabad? I hadn’t. Even though this is the first entree of the sheer nuttiness of a major Indian city, the tenor is different yet the people are remain warm. But don’t be fooled, it’s not a warmth we might think of. ‘Thank you’ is rarely used. Yet gratitude and giving is common. Simple courtesy whilst needing still living your life. They will stand right next to you but they won’t push you or give you a dirty look. It’s just a dance of the masses - a necessity when you’re crammed together.

Traveling from Rajasthan to Gujarat the language and alphabet is different. It’s a historical difference which unlike most things, modernity has been unable to change. Our bus drivers from Udaipur don’t speak Gujarati and even though it is very close to Hindi, the language gap is so large we’ve had to get local guides in each town to translate and help them navigate the roads.

Regardless of language, state or religion all of which is a wild mix - just like their fabulous prints and textiles - they seem so connected and aware. Aloof doesn’t appear to be common. Perhaps it’s the openness that travel seems to inspire in me but I haven’t felt so connected to ‘strangers’ in a long time. Religion could also be a factor. It seems most everyone goes to ‘temple’ in some form every morning. Whether that be the mosque across the street or kneeling in the street when the call to prayer happens, a tiny shrine to wedged in a corner or a gorgeously crafted Jain temple.

This routine creates a beautiful grounding leading to everyday conversations about care for family, what is fated in the universe or simple gratitude for what we have right now. Even if that doesn’t include shoes or a home. (We’ve been lucky to spend time in many artisans homes)

Imagine what America could be if we adopted some of these grounding principles and interconnection.

One of the hardest things about preparing for this trip (because my visa was granted immediately - thank god) was finding appropriate attire. Something to cover me from head to toe, to meet the modest cultural standard, while beating the potentially oppressive heat and humidity. The hard part was to also meet those requirements with color. As my wardrobe consists of black…then more black, with a smidge of tan and a splash of red.

India is widely known for being one of the most colorful countries in the world from color-rich saris, to the spices, to the color blast festival of Holi. Even the animals are colorful. Peacock anyone?

What’s more? Color has deep meaning. As ingrained as we historically equated blue with boys and pink with girls. Color represents life blood and passion (red), death and purity (white), destruction (black), and more. Color is also intimately associated with deities.

The interplay of texture, sheen, sparkle, curvature is much like the thousands of years of cooperation and navigation amongst diverse native cultures. Or in modern times the organized chaos of traffic - no lanes, no lights, no problem! Few accidents or cows injured in the process. Maybe a squirrel, or 6 - but apparently they make fabulous paint brushes. (More cow detail forthcoming. I’ll spare you Indian squirrel stories)

If America is a melting pot, India is tapas. Delectable flavors that mix and match beautifully. As I sit overlooking the lake in Udaipur, I hear the 6th night of Navaratri celebration on my right, a traditional Indian band with a fire dancer in a purple and pink sari in front of me and, in the distant left, a Muslim call to prayer.

India may have changed my perspective on color. And for more of us, might just change our perspective on the rich tapestry of life itself.

When you travel, not only do you get to know the world - you uncover the core of yourself - especially if traveling, even if partially, alone. I embark on my 18th country today. Arriving on the other side of the world via four flights including one upgrade and the best seat mates Kamlesh and Priya to officially welcome me to India.
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This trip I will not “see Mumbai” but the Mumbai I quickly saw included a magnificent airport, kindness and, brace yourself, quiet (mind you it was 2am). Women in saris walking in the middle of the street to some unknown destination, a fancy replica of a palace welcoming weary travelers, and a hole in the ground preparing for new construction - the lip of which butts right up against a tent city/shanti town all decorated with “Christmas lights” celebrating day 6 of Navaratri.

Waiting on my last flight to Udaipur I had time to walk the entire domestic airline terminal. Completely packed but you could hear a pin drop. I am the only “gringo”. I have the luxury, as a white woman in America, to rarely feel like an “outsider” or minority. Even though, technically so and despite warnings from friends, I don’t feel like one here.

Even if I did, I found this guy to remind me of the importance, warmth and care of this fascinating country.

Testing this today!

The novel coronavirus has provoked global anxiety.  

​No one does anxiety better than Americans.  We got this!  Tablet-holding toddlers, medication-popping adults, and binge-watching families, we are continually armed with distraction.

The new reality hits and despite appearances, Americans are coming apart at the seams.  We are so desperately trying to hold onto our normal routine.  Creating classrooms and gyms in our homes. Checking in with work constantly, because the work doesn't just stop. Does it?!  Wondering when the quiet will end.  Our president, struggling with his own feelings of vulnerability to the quiet, begins to promise that the end is near despite the consequences. We are all clinging onto the relational common denominator to ourselves and each other, busy-ness.  



Remember the days at the grocery store when we weren't frantically looking for toilet paper?  We would run into our neighbors.  Exchange pleasantries. Perhaps embrace or shake hands. (Gasp!)

Our conversations would commonly include how busy we were.  How we wish we could have more hours in the day.  More sleep.  More time for all those things we claimed to want to do.  Now we have it. In spades. The Netflix shows we've wanted to binge are running out and we're lost.  

How do we define who we are?  How we are doing?  For the first time, perhaps since the dawn of the digital age, we might have to answer those questions honestly and without a qualifier.  


​Breathe.  This is good news.  Let it go.  

*Note: This blog speaks mainly to those staying in their homes during the Covid-19 pandemic.  I am grateful to all those who are on the frontlines of this crisis, from our hospitals to our farms. 
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