Oh, India.

This morning I left for a short 5 km run to a local park.  It was early, so traffic wasn't too bad; however, I did have a car, driving the wrong direction on the road, cut me off, then stop right in front of me so they could load up some supplies from a store.  As they got out of the car, they looked at me like I was the crazy one because I was running for no apparent reason.  A few minutes later I had a Tuk Tuk cut me off in the same manner so that he could give me a ride.  He yelled, "Sir! Sir!" as me motioned to the seat with his hand.  I shook my head and kept running, and I think I literally blew his mind.  He's probably still sitting there trying to figure out what had happened, and perhaps thinking he should find a new job since he couldn't even talk a Westerner into his taxi, who, clearly, was in desperate need of a ride.

Like we've said before, India is full of extremes in every direction.  Poverty meets luxury.  Chaos meets tranquility.  Beauty meets trash.  On the way to the park this morning I ran by all sorts of people sleeping on the side of the street, just waking up to start their work day.  Having grown up in the United Sates, it seems so foreign to see people who work a full day cleaning, or in construction, or perhaps trash removal, and they have no place to go but to the small grassy median in a round-a-bout.  They get water from a large tanker truck that stops and opens a faucet for them to fill their water bottles, and they likely work all day so they can afford a meal that evening.  

As I pass all of the homeless workers outside and step through the gates to the park, it's as if I cross some threshold into a different reality.  Inside the park, well-dressed Indians are everywhere practicing yoga, or doing odd exercises as they walk along the well-manicured gravel path.  I could hear people in the distance laughing and yelling as they played some game, probably cricket.  The park was like a sanctuary from the injustice outside.  It was almost depressing as I neared the gate on my way home, and I knew that I had to leave this safe, blind, oblivious place and, once again, run through the smoke from burning trash, run past the people lining up for water, run through the wafting urine.

I'd be lying if I said that I didn't dislike the portion of my run from our house to the park.  It's as if I'm a little kid getting ready to sprint from one 'safe base' to another.  It's hard to face the reality that we live in such luxurious conditions while people struggle to get through each day.  The worst part of it all is that no one here seems to strive for anything better for themselves.  Just as the wealthy people blindly go about their day in the pockets of solitude, the poor people go about their day everywhere else.  It seems as though no one here has any desire to 'learn to fish', they just want 'fish'.

Happy Travels!

Pancho