Tired, very tired

No, my dear friends, I haven't forgotten about you, nor am I so blissed out that writing seems pointless. But I've been in places where the internet is just a rumor. I wrote the following three days ago. I'll catch you up tomorrow.

Today ends the first half of my 3-week trip. I've been having a great time--an extraordinary adventure that no amount of reading or videos could equal.

It isn't enough that the water I drink has to be bottled...

And I'm tired.

I'm tired of being dirty virtually all the time. Hot water here isn't measured by the gallon or the cubic foot, but by the second.

I'm tired of wondering if the next thing I put in my mouth will ruin my trip--or the rest of my life.

I'm tired of watching every step I take, avoiding cow dung, stones, and careening vehicles. I'm tired of the constant truck, bus, car, and motorcycle horns. Constant. As our guide says, "India's roads are democratic"--shared by bicycles, motor vehicles, cows, and pedestrians of all ages, all at different speeds. So I haven't ridden in a car more than 3 consecutive minutes without hearing our horn. You'd be surprised at how tiring that can be, especially after the novelty of the cows wears off.

I'm tired of feeling so prissy. When I hike, I tiptoe around the brush, not wanting to scratch up my legs and attract exotic bugs.

It isn't enough that the water I drink is bottled; it has to come to me in a sealed container, as locals are now serving tap water (can you say "intestinal parasite"?) in those handy plastic bottles. We use sunscreen in the blazing sun, Pepto-Bismol before every meal, and hand sanitizer several times a day. We carry toilet paper everywhere. I don't mind the hassle of these rituals so much; I just don't like feeling so finicky, so rigid-Victorian-in-the-Raj unadaptable.

I'm tired of not wanting to look like an Ugly American, while knowing that I almost certainly do.

I'm tired of not getting enough sleep. Life starts early in the Indian morning, with crowing roosters, barking dogs, unmuffled engines, playing children, and the scurry of people who lack the luxuries of a private bathroom or the time to use one.

I'm certainly tired of how undependable the internet, the roads, and even the electricity are. Nothing is simple in India. Nothing.

I'm tired of seeing the massive devastation of India's air, water, and forests. And I ruefully assume that I'd also disregard those things if that was the only way to feed my family.

I'm tired of not being able to ask sophisticated questions, because people here don't speak much English, and if they do, I frequently can't understand them anyway. I'm frustrated at the wealth of information and explanations that lay just beyond my grasp. India is a beautiful woman whom I just can't get my arms around, simply because we don't speak the same language.

I'm tired of not knowing what people here mean when they say "yes." I practically never hear "no," but I know that's what often lies behind the smiles and friendly tone--because I rarely get exactly what I've been led to expect. I just can't predict when.

So I'm tired. But give me no sympathy. Being tired and confused has never been so energizing or entertaining. As I start the second half of my trip by flying east from Chhattissgarh state to Orissa state, I'm (slightly!) more grateful than tired: I wouldn't have missed this for anything.