The Hobbit- Chapter Nineteen: The Last Stage

“You don’t really suppose, do you, that all your adventures and escapes were managed by mere luck, just for your sole benefit? You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all!”

“Thank goodness!” said Bilbo laughing, and handed him the tobacco jar.

Thank you, Gandalf! Your lack of sentimentality has once again brought me back to reality. Indeed, I am not the only ex-pat experiencing thoughts and feelings like those I have expressed in previous posts, nor have I begun to scratch the surface when it comes to living cross-culturally. I am not the only voice speaking for ex-pats across the globe, or for those patriots that find themselves dwelling in a second or third culture within their home country. Reading the words of other ex-pat authors residing in India has enriched my life, and to them I am grateful. As for me, I hope that all my adventures will not be for my sole benefit. After all, I am only quite a little gal living in a very wide world after all! Thank goodness!

The Hobbit- Chapter Twelve: Inside Information

...Already he was a very different hobbit from the one that had run out without a pocket-handkerchief from Bag-End long ago. He had not had a pocket-handkerchief for ages.

Life changes you. Experiences shape and mold a human being. Other cultures make one a different person.

When I first returned to America I was already a different person from the one that left two years earlier. Living in India had taught me about being more assertive, less judgmental, to think outside of my “culture box,” and be absolutely stunned by the sheer multitude of languages, dialects, cultures, and sub-cultures on this globe.

 After I returned to India for round two, I discovered that I was also a different person from the one which had previously resided within its lands. I now felt comfortable in my own skin, even though that skin is still white and attracts stares and second looks. But I have a functioning knowledge of language and how life works within India’s culture, and I don’t miss Dr. Pepper, Doritos and Chick-fil-a with the severity of my first two years. Instead, I crave dal and paranthas and paneer rolls on a regular basis! I cringe when I see shoes being worn around the house, and ensure that I check mine at the door!  

The Hobbit- Chapter Eleven: On the Doorstep

…But I am afraid he was not thinking much of the job, but of what lay beyond the blue distance, the quiet Western Land the Hill and his hobbit-hole under it.

The quote above well describes my first two years in India. When we arrived I was overflowing with excitement, but three months later reality had set in with a vengeance. The honeymoon had officially ended. My road to cross-cultural living in a foreign land was filled with just as many bumps and potholes as when I started, but I now minded the jostling I received from them.

My difficulties included bouts of homesickness, missed holidays with family, a craving for Dr. Pepper and an unrelenting desire for Chick-fil-A! Through it all, however, I was determined to forge ahead, learn Hindi, and get to know the culture and people of this land. Yet, at the end of my first year as a resident of India, I began, like Bilbo, to think less about the job at hand, and instead to think of what lay beyond the distance of oceans and continents.

The Hobbit- Chapter Eight: Flies and Spiders, Entry 2

There was the usual dim grey light of the forest-day about him when he came to his senses. The spider lay dead beside him, and his sword-blade was stained black. Somehow the killing of the giant spider, all alone by himself in the dark without the help of the wizard or the dwarves or of anyone else, made a great difference to Mr. Baggins. He felt a different person, and much fiercer and bolder in spite of an empty stomach, as he wiped his sword on the grass and put it back into its sheath.

The first memory that came to mind when I read this was taking an auto rickshaw to Indra market with my friend, Amy. I told her I had already decided I was going, with or without her company. She didn’t need to go, but kindly volunteered to come with me. Indra Market is a small place, the kind you see on travel shows. It has one main road lined with fruit and vegetable sellers, shops selling frames and household goods; carts selling jewelry, toys and hair accessories. Shopping there is a tight squeeze, considering all the hawkers, shoppers, stray dogs, rickshaws, motorcycles and the occasional cow or car. The road then descends into a couple of dimly-lit gullies jammed full of more shops. On the right is a cloth shop, a jeweler, a small stand selling beauty items, and large vats for dying cloth. The opposite side is home to a DVD shop and a sandal stand. Farther down one gully is a shop selling trim and lace. But wait, there’s more! A toy store, a shop for steel dishes, and a tailor shop, as well as a kitchen store and a flurry of brightly-colored scarves overflowing from the stand across the way. Indra market was a bit overwhelming to me at first, probably because I had been in the country only four months and still preferred to shop at the mall or bigger markets where there were set prices and, thankfully, air conditioning!

I felt more comfortable to go out and about with another expat that offered the advantage of an additional voice to help me haggle over price or stumble through giving directions. Eventually, however, the day finally came when I had to face my fear and strike out on my own. It was up to me to haggle with the autowala or the cycle rickshaw driver and give directions in broken Hindi with a terrible accent. I had to shop at the markets, travel on the metro, call for a cab. I didn’t like it, but it had to happen if I was to become a functioning member of Delhi society. These small, everyday tasks loomed like tall mountains to be climbed, one at a time.

Still, as I persevered from day-to-day those mountains soon became mere molehills. I will not deny that the experience was strewn with mistakes and punctuated by moments of frustration when I parted with more rupees than was necessary. Yet, in the end I am happy to report that I have conquered those “mountains” and now stand on the summit a wiser resident of Delhi.