Hemingway & Herriot

Hemingway & Herriot

by Lily Greener

When I was little, my dad would take me to the beach, and where we’re from there are these sand bars out a ways from the shore that you can stand on after swimming through the deep water. He would somehow always convince me to swim out there with him even though it’s kind of terrifying because you’re going out further than anybody else and you have to go through some pretty deep, dark water before you can stand up on the underwater hill. Looking back I really don’t get the draw of doing this, but I do remember my dad always telling me that I could do it – that it wasn’t as far as it seemed from the shore. My parents have always been the “at least do it just to prove to yourself that you can” kind of people.

And so as a kid I would swim out to these reefs with my dad because it was important to him for me to know that I could. And even though most times he’d end up carrying me through the deepest water on the way back to the shore, I had at least proven to myself that I could do it.

If I’m honest, a huge reason I applied to this trip in the first place was to prove to myself that I could do it. As excited as I was for the opportunity, I knew what I was signing up for and I knew the (difficult) decision I was making when I postponed my dream job in New York to come with my friends and future colleagues to India to study veterinary medicine here for 6 1/2 weeks. Needless to say, it’s been the challenge I anticipated. But now we’re hours away from leaving and I’m here and we’re done and I’m better for it. I did it, Dad.

Here’s what I’m taking with me after 7 weeks in India:

I’m a capitalist through and through: Nobody cares about exact change. If they don’t have the right bills or coins, they’ll just round. Sometimes it’s in their favor, sometimes it isn’t. They REALLY aren’t worried about it. I DON’T GET IT. I literally had an argument with a man at a rest stop coffee shop because he wouldn’t take the extra rupees I’d pulled out to pay with exact coinage. He just didn’t want them. UGH. TAKE MY MONEY.

I learned to do my makeup in a mirror outside this last week, sometimes by the light of the milky mountain sunrise (pretty proud that my eyebrows still managed to match those days).

Indian drivers like to be honked at (no really, they write it on their bumpers – “honk please okay!”) Sometimes it’s to let other cars know you’re coming around a sharp curve, but most times it’s just because they really enjoy it.

I lived out of suitcases (read: one small backpack) switching from hotel to hostel to hotel every night for a week or two at a time. Hey, if I ever switch to a career as a low-grade rockstar, I’m ready to go.

The only people who rush here are the motorcyclists.

I killed a cockroach with a brick and a doormat and only teared up in panic a little.

I did my laundry by hand and hung it outside and only had one thing get shit on.

This introvert lived with 14 other people for 6.5 weeks in (very) close quarters and came out of it with new friends, stronger friendships and a newfound appreciation for people who take deodorant seriously but themselves not so much. There’s much about the last two months I’m not ready to repeat any time soon, but I’ll tell you what, I’d do another two living with my friends in a heartbeat. They’ve shared their snacks, made me laugh, hugged me while I cried, commiserated with me, scared the shit out of me, defended me, snuggled with me when we were 4 to a bed at one hostel, braided my dirty unwashed hair and fixed my makeup when it melted off in the heat. If that’s not camaraderie, what is?

Communication is precious. People rag on our generation all the time because of our obsession with our cell phones, but while I absolutely appreciate the need to see the world outside the screen, I’d like to ask all those people who like to judge to live for almost two months with limited or nonexistent cellular service and then see how quickly they would kill for just a 5 minute phone call with their parents.

I rode down windy mountain streets hanging onto the back of a jeep (baller arm workout, go figure) and it was the greatest.

I met a tribal man who spent his life living in the mountains tracking wild dogs (“dal”) and showed him the video I took of the ones we found while out on a safari. That was pretty dope.

 

This was the second-to-last summer of my life (proceeds to hyperventilate); and even though it sounds trite, life really is super, super short and it moves super, super fast. Like even faster than the jeep drivers drove through the forest with us hanging on for dear life. I loved that ride, but I also really wanna enjoy The Big One. And to be honest, I’m not sure I’m doing everything I need to be in order to do that. So when I get home I’m making a point to start doing them. Starting with changing whatever needs to change to make time to act again. Listening to musicals in the car isn’t enough, and it will never be.

I LOVE TOILET PAPER AND WHOEVER INVENTED IT. That’s all I’ve got to say about that.

I slept on a sleeper train (3 times) and fought off nausea while watching the fields shoot past through the open (yes, open) train door.

I learned that I LOVE writing regularly and interviewing people – how that will be useful to a veterinarian, we’ve still got to figure out.

Generosity is everything. I’ve seen so much here – from random forest rangers dropping everything to make us tea and snacks to my friends offering up food, clothes, bug spray, you name it, to any of us who needed it as we traveled. Not that I wasn’t generous before (I hope, geez) but it’s been a great lesson to pay attention to wherever you can help other humans.

I learned that my accent is really hard for other languages to understand (I really don’t get what’s difficult about a high-pitched fast-talker from the Mid-Atlantic raised by a Tennesseean, right?) In any case, it gave me a newfound appreciation for how important it is to ask if you don’t understand something. But more importantly, this isn’t just limited to language barriers – I’m getting used to asking for clarification and speaking up if I don’t understand why we’re doing something.

           

While we were at the elephant sanctuary, a man trekked out to our camp every day to make our meals, and he was legit the best cook EV-ER. He was also the sweetest and smiled every time I talked to him even though I’m pretty sure he wasn’t sure what I was saying.

I showered in a faucet in the dark and ate with my hands (not at the same time, Mom).

I have a really hard time sitting still. I know, shocker, but I just can’t do it. On a bus. On a train. In a plane. In the rain. In Spain. It makes me crazy. I gotta move.

I hiked up mountains and down into grasslands trying to get a glimpse of wild elephants or the ever elusive tiger (he did not wanna hang out with us this trip). And you know what, I LOVE hiking. Add it to the “Don’t Forget to Make Time for This” list for when I get back to Georgia.

Also, I don’t care what anybody says, but shopping (for literally anything) really does fix a lot of bad moods.

Indian movie theaters don’t let you take gum in. I’m assuming it’s because punks stick it on the seats since security took away my Trident but didn’t care about my pepper spray, my mini bat or my crackers (wow, in other news, I’m apparently paranoid and also need to go on a diet).

I taught a bunch of tribal children Duck Duck Goose and proceeded to have my ass kicked by them (worth it, they had so much fun).

I peed in an outbuilding in the middle of the night while my friends held the flashlight and made sure there were no panthers around.

After the many times we rushed somewhere only to sit and wait for some time, I remembered how much I love reading – I crushed about a book a week and aim to keep that up the rest of my life.

I was reminded to be grateful for the easy things – for the corner store having soda, for someone having an extra hair tie, for standing by a river for an hour watching elephants get bathed, for how every dog’s mouth stretches with the beginnings of a smile when you scratch its ears no matter where in the world you are, for people remembering your favorite meals and making them for you.

There IS a limit to how many times I can watch Thor 2; the hostel where we spent most of our time had about 3 English channels and one had presumably just recently acquired the rights to this film as it was shown approximately twice weekly.

I learned that you can be wrong about people. But because of that I’ve come to realize that, ultimately, as much as that disappoints, all I can do at the end of the day is focus on being someone others can rely on to always be the same. Someone I am proud of when I go to sleep at night. And you know what? I am proud of who I have become because of India. And after a nice long break well within my comfort zone, you can bet I will be stepping out of it again. The world is too big to stay where or as you are, and it is full of deep water just waiting for you to cross it, stand up on the sand bar, look back and say, “Suck it. You don’t scare me.”

“Sail forth, sail for the deep waters only.”
– Walt Whitman

OH and P.S. You’re probably wondering about our sweet friend, Dobby the Paralyzed Street Dog. WELL, in the next few days Dobby is hopefully going to be adopted by one of the veterinarians at the hospital where we’ve been working who fell in love with her much like we did. In the coming weeks, I’ll be working on an article with more of her story and our experience with animal welfare here over the last couple months, so check back for the inaugural piece for The Newspaper Test.