Western Toilets? Is this India?

I know I've smelled this familiar mix of spices, sewage, incense, mothballs, and who-knows-what-else before. When I stepped off my plane to Mumbai, the smell immediately slammed into me. This time when I arrived in India, I was ready. Ready for the smells, ready for the crowds, ready for the dirt, ready for the insanity of it all. I guess that's why the clean bathrooms in the Mumbai Airport completely surprised me. I'm talking Western toilets AND toilet paper AND soap AND paper towels!

What a contrast to my first Indian experience 15 years ago: my mom and four kids huddled around a hole in the ground that was supposed to be a toilet. Women were sprawled on the floor all around the room, selling toilet paper to foreign suckers like us. I don't remember the details, but by the end of the ordeal, Mom was in tears. I think we bought toilet paper.

I was relieved to finally land at at the Hyderabad Airport, which is much bigger and nicer than the Salt Lake City Airport. It was 4:30 Wednesday morning, and I staggered through immigration and customs, my backpack seeming heavier with every minute spent in line. Somehow I made it without collapsing.

Finally seeing Taylor was strage. He looked so skinny and tired. Both of us so out of place in the madness that is Hyderabad, a sea of curious, staring Indian people. Then us.

Our cab driver raced like an idiot all the way to the hotel, where I found a cup of bamboo shoots quietly waiting on a table with a sweet card from Taylor. It was a perfect welcoming gift. Not quite a dog, but I think Taylor's the only person in the world who knows I've always wanted a bamboo plant.

Now, two and a half days later, I've taken rickshaws all over town, running errands for the team (meeting with a local school teacher, making extra copies of house keys) and a few for myself (buying hangers and shampoo, buying food). I've moved into our yellow, second floor apartment. It has running water and Western toilets! Yay! (Yes, the picture is of our house.) I've been introduced to biryani, Hyderabad's trademark dish. It's a sort-of Indian version of stir-fried rice topped with a spicy sauce. I liked it. I've even seen a peacock in the local “national park”.

No matter where we go or what we're doing, water is often my highest priority. Taylor wasn't kidding about the heat, though apparently it's much cooler this week. I never realized jeans were so hot! It's 95 degrees inside our house, except for the one air-conditioned room, where we spend most of our inside time. I can't tell if it's the sun draining my energy or if I'm jet-lagged or going through culture shock or maybe even a little sick. Maybe it's a combination of all of them. Whatever it is, I'm praying for the monsoons and cooler weather.