Here we are, back in India after a whirlwind trip home for my sister, Caroline's wedding. She and Jose and Naomi are going to be such a great family!!! But this post doesn't have anything to do with our visit home as much as it has to do with our getting to and from home.
The airport is fast becoming a very familiar sight to our family. The kids are already learning the drill. Stay close. Wait patiently in several lines. If you wait patiently, then Mama and Daddy won't lose it in the terminal. If you wait patiently, then Mama and Daddy will let you run down the long tarmac. If you wait patiently, there will be treats at the gate. Oh, and you get a hamburgerger and fries. Jed actually enjoys the long flights because to them, it translates into getting to watch as many movies and play as many games as he can stay awake for. And we don't make him sleep because it just helps us out with jet lag. Abe's doing okay with it all. He still gets tired and when Daddy isn't playing Sherpa because he's so bogged down with extra carry-ons, he gets to ride on Daddy's shoulders. Lucy is pretty laid back about everything -- for a walking 10 month old. This trip, she busied herself in the airport with running away from us every chance she got; making friends with other passengers, even helping them with their luggage. How thoughtful! Flights are still hard with her. She doesn't eat much or take a bottle or cup, so she's a constant nurser. She also likes to pace the isle with Mama at 2am.
One thing that Chris and I have been watching with amusement and, at times, shame, is the culture clash between our homeland and our new home. We've taken 6 flights to or from India in the last 16 months. That's a lot -- especially with our small family! Each time, we've seen how the two worldviews of our two lands collide in a not-so-harmonious jumble as people seek to make sense of each other. Take this trip for instance.
We got on the flight heading for America with almost-all Indian citizens or American citizens of Indian ethnicity. We left a country without lines, with hierarchical status, with few traffic signals and laws, with a still-muggy 95 degree heat. We arrived in a country with lines, rules, regulations, a high of 55 degrees. Even better, we arrived in New Jersey. I hope and pray for all New Jersians that the customs official we had the distinct privilege of meeting right off the airplane was a poor example of their population. This man sat in his chair at the front of a long line of us -- just getting off a 14 hour flight at 4:30 am. We had sat in the plane for half an hour waiting for customs to open and then got out the door. As we entered the room, I heard him yelling, "Single file! That means one at a time, people!" I thought, 'man, what got his panties in a bunch?' Really, as I looked, I saw what very clearly resembled a line. Hey man, for people just getting back from India, this is a really good job! Do you know there are no lines there? People were trying to get into a line that was good enough for him, but he kept shouting, "Single file! That means one at a time! If you can't go single file, we can't do this! SINGLE FILE!" Towards the front of the line, there was a stop sign with a line that the next person was to wait behind until he was finished with the one in front. "Stop behind the line! Look at the sign! It says stop! Get behind the line! Can't you read?" Then, after a very unfortunate man accidentally went in front of the line, he got to the counter only to get another verbal lashing, "Didn't you see the sign? WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP?" We were in the other line with the other customs agent, thankfully, but this last bit made me want to jump lines. I would have pulled out my best rude-American sarcasm and replied, "Of course he saw the line and knew what it meant. There are no stop signs in our city!!!! He was really just wanting to destroy your day and make you miserable. He was trying to circumvent the entire American culture by accidentally stepping over your precious line. You'd better just put him back on the plane for the attempted coup!' Good grief! Welcome to America, folks!
How crazy are we? Can you imagine if this was a first visit for any of those passengers? They get off the plane and are told their line isn't up to par, that they can't read, that they are stupid. When we got off the plane in India for the first time, we were greeted by gate agents who were trying to help us find the baggage claim. We had people love on our small family and compliment us on the behavior of our two small boys -- one of whom had 3 spankings before we got to our flat. We were offered a cart for our luggage free of charge. (in America, they run $4 -- that is, if the machine doesn't eat your money). There were 4-5 men who were trying to offer help getting to a taxi for a nominal fee -- if we gave them the equivalent of $1 that would be generous! Immediately we were thankful for the attitudes of these people. Let's do better, America! No one berated us for not understanding their language right off the plane. No one belittled us for looking confused and not knowing what papers we needed at the desk. No one gave us disdainful glances for getting cultural cues wrong (like telling the Hindu clerk Salaam or the Muslim gatekeeper Namaste). They were gracious. Let's do better, America! It just reminded me that we aren't exactly the Christian nation that we claim to be. Which airport showed Jesus' heart for the weary traveler? Which airport helped people in need of rest? Let's do better, America!
On the way back, we had another interesting look. I will say that not everyone in the American airports was quite as atrocious as the first guy we were in contact with. We have met many hard-working staff who are trying their hardest to navigate the cultural differences with grace and integrity. Some who have the patience of Job as wealthy Indians (who are used to a houseful of servants) treat them like the hired-help. As we got ready to board the plane, we saw Indian doctors and diplomats trying to use their status to get in front in line, get better treatment, etc. It doesn't work that way in America. A certain man on our return flight was beside himself when they ran out of chicken dinners on our very-full flight before the cart reached him. They informed him there were only veg dinners left. He proceeded to ask 2 other attendants for chicken. After they told him the same thing, he replied indignantly, "Well, get some more. I wanted chicken." It just so happened to be the same guy who didn't take enough customs forms as the attendant passed him. They ran out of forms and were scrambling around the cabin to find enough for all the passengers. He called for another form. "We're trying to get some more, sir." "Well, where are they?" "We ran out, sir, we're looking for another one for you." "I need one now!" "We're looking for one, sir" Again, I had to squelch my sarcastic side. "Of course, sir, I'll just parachute down over the Atlantic, find you a sea-chicken and pluck it. I'll use my rocket pack to jet back to the plane and prepare you some delicious biriyani. After that, let me press out some of these used paper towels into recycled paper and hand write you a customs form. Would that be okay?" Good grief! Let's do better, India! Where did he think they were going to get this stuff? After the flight attendant walked away, he yelled back, "Worthless Airline!" Well, if he really felt that way, maybe they'd give him the parachute . . .
One other older man was having a hard time sitting. This happens in every flight full of Indians. The seat belt sign is treated in the same dismissive way as all other rules in India. It's fine for everyone else on the flight, but I am an exception. People are up and about all the time, standing in the isles, using the restrooms, etc. Constantly. No matter how many reminders come over the PA system. This guy, took the cake, though. We were in our final approach. Literally seconds from the runway. He undoes his seat belt and stands up. Immediately, a flight attendant is at his side. "Sir, you have to sit down and fasten your belt." "I am having trouble. I have a heart condition and need to stand." "Sir, we are about to land, you must return to your seat." " I have a heart condition. Sitting causes me trouble." Sir, you'll be in a lot of trouble if you don't SIT DOWN." The guy had to physically place the man in his seat and strap his belt seconds before the wheels touched. Good grief! Let's do better, India!
These are just a few examples of what we experience every time we fly. Really, they are snapshots of what we are still experiencing every day in our own hearts as we seek to make sense of our new home. Some days, I find I have the patience of those flight attendants. Other days, I feel as grumpy as the customs agent. Other days, I find myself getting used to it and having to check my attitude of entitlement due to my status here. All-in-all, it will probably be a whirlwind for a while yet. When I have those bad attitudes, I just have to say to myself: "Let's do better, Emily."
And now, a photo we took in America . . . in our Indian clothes . . . right next to a cornfield! CLASH!
The airport is fast becoming a very familiar sight to our family. The kids are already learning the drill. Stay close. Wait patiently in several lines. If you wait patiently, then Mama and Daddy won't lose it in the terminal. If you wait patiently, then Mama and Daddy will let you run down the long tarmac. If you wait patiently, there will be treats at the gate. Oh, and you get a hamburgerger and fries. Jed actually enjoys the long flights because to them, it translates into getting to watch as many movies and play as many games as he can stay awake for. And we don't make him sleep because it just helps us out with jet lag. Abe's doing okay with it all. He still gets tired and when Daddy isn't playing Sherpa because he's so bogged down with extra carry-ons, he gets to ride on Daddy's shoulders. Lucy is pretty laid back about everything -- for a walking 10 month old. This trip, she busied herself in the airport with running away from us every chance she got; making friends with other passengers, even helping them with their luggage. How thoughtful! Flights are still hard with her. She doesn't eat much or take a bottle or cup, so she's a constant nurser. She also likes to pace the isle with Mama at 2am.
One thing that Chris and I have been watching with amusement and, at times, shame, is the culture clash between our homeland and our new home. We've taken 6 flights to or from India in the last 16 months. That's a lot -- especially with our small family! Each time, we've seen how the two worldviews of our two lands collide in a not-so-harmonious jumble as people seek to make sense of each other. Take this trip for instance.
We got on the flight heading for America with almost-all Indian citizens or American citizens of Indian ethnicity. We left a country without lines, with hierarchical status, with few traffic signals and laws, with a still-muggy 95 degree heat. We arrived in a country with lines, rules, regulations, a high of 55 degrees. Even better, we arrived in New Jersey. I hope and pray for all New Jersians that the customs official we had the distinct privilege of meeting right off the airplane was a poor example of their population. This man sat in his chair at the front of a long line of us -- just getting off a 14 hour flight at 4:30 am. We had sat in the plane for half an hour waiting for customs to open and then got out the door. As we entered the room, I heard him yelling, "Single file! That means one at a time, people!" I thought, 'man, what got his panties in a bunch?' Really, as I looked, I saw what very clearly resembled a line. Hey man, for people just getting back from India, this is a really good job! Do you know there are no lines there? People were trying to get into a line that was good enough for him, but he kept shouting, "Single file! That means one at a time! If you can't go single file, we can't do this! SINGLE FILE!" Towards the front of the line, there was a stop sign with a line that the next person was to wait behind until he was finished with the one in front. "Stop behind the line! Look at the sign! It says stop! Get behind the line! Can't you read?" Then, after a very unfortunate man accidentally went in front of the line, he got to the counter only to get another verbal lashing, "Didn't you see the sign? WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP?" We were in the other line with the other customs agent, thankfully, but this last bit made me want to jump lines. I would have pulled out my best rude-American sarcasm and replied, "Of course he saw the line and knew what it meant. There are no stop signs in our city!!!! He was really just wanting to destroy your day and make you miserable. He was trying to circumvent the entire American culture by accidentally stepping over your precious line. You'd better just put him back on the plane for the attempted coup!' Good grief! Welcome to America, folks!
How crazy are we? Can you imagine if this was a first visit for any of those passengers? They get off the plane and are told their line isn't up to par, that they can't read, that they are stupid. When we got off the plane in India for the first time, we were greeted by gate agents who were trying to help us find the baggage claim. We had people love on our small family and compliment us on the behavior of our two small boys -- one of whom had 3 spankings before we got to our flat. We were offered a cart for our luggage free of charge. (in America, they run $4 -- that is, if the machine doesn't eat your money). There were 4-5 men who were trying to offer help getting to a taxi for a nominal fee -- if we gave them the equivalent of $1 that would be generous! Immediately we were thankful for the attitudes of these people. Let's do better, America! No one berated us for not understanding their language right off the plane. No one belittled us for looking confused and not knowing what papers we needed at the desk. No one gave us disdainful glances for getting cultural cues wrong (like telling the Hindu clerk Salaam or the Muslim gatekeeper Namaste). They were gracious. Let's do better, America! It just reminded me that we aren't exactly the Christian nation that we claim to be. Which airport showed Jesus' heart for the weary traveler? Which airport helped people in need of rest? Let's do better, America!
On the way back, we had another interesting look. I will say that not everyone in the American airports was quite as atrocious as the first guy we were in contact with. We have met many hard-working staff who are trying their hardest to navigate the cultural differences with grace and integrity. Some who have the patience of Job as wealthy Indians (who are used to a houseful of servants) treat them like the hired-help. As we got ready to board the plane, we saw Indian doctors and diplomats trying to use their status to get in front in line, get better treatment, etc. It doesn't work that way in America. A certain man on our return flight was beside himself when they ran out of chicken dinners on our very-full flight before the cart reached him. They informed him there were only veg dinners left. He proceeded to ask 2 other attendants for chicken. After they told him the same thing, he replied indignantly, "Well, get some more. I wanted chicken." It just so happened to be the same guy who didn't take enough customs forms as the attendant passed him. They ran out of forms and were scrambling around the cabin to find enough for all the passengers. He called for another form. "We're trying to get some more, sir." "Well, where are they?" "We ran out, sir, we're looking for another one for you." "I need one now!" "We're looking for one, sir" Again, I had to squelch my sarcastic side. "Of course, sir, I'll just parachute down over the Atlantic, find you a sea-chicken and pluck it. I'll use my rocket pack to jet back to the plane and prepare you some delicious biriyani. After that, let me press out some of these used paper towels into recycled paper and hand write you a customs form. Would that be okay?" Good grief! Let's do better, India! Where did he think they were going to get this stuff? After the flight attendant walked away, he yelled back, "Worthless Airline!" Well, if he really felt that way, maybe they'd give him the parachute . . .
One other older man was having a hard time sitting. This happens in every flight full of Indians. The seat belt sign is treated in the same dismissive way as all other rules in India. It's fine for everyone else on the flight, but I am an exception. People are up and about all the time, standing in the isles, using the restrooms, etc. Constantly. No matter how many reminders come over the PA system. This guy, took the cake, though. We were in our final approach. Literally seconds from the runway. He undoes his seat belt and stands up. Immediately, a flight attendant is at his side. "Sir, you have to sit down and fasten your belt." "I am having trouble. I have a heart condition and need to stand." "Sir, we are about to land, you must return to your seat." " I have a heart condition. Sitting causes me trouble." Sir, you'll be in a lot of trouble if you don't SIT DOWN." The guy had to physically place the man in his seat and strap his belt seconds before the wheels touched. Good grief! Let's do better, India!
These are just a few examples of what we experience every time we fly. Really, they are snapshots of what we are still experiencing every day in our own hearts as we seek to make sense of our new home. Some days, I find I have the patience of those flight attendants. Other days, I feel as grumpy as the customs agent. Other days, I find myself getting used to it and having to check my attitude of entitlement due to my status here. All-in-all, it will probably be a whirlwind for a while yet. When I have those bad attitudes, I just have to say to myself: "Let's do better, Emily."
And now, a photo we took in America . . . in our Indian clothes . . . right next to a cornfield! CLASH!
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