My first day in India - or: Climate shock instead of culture shock

When the pilot said this morning during the approach to Chennai about 30 degrees and 90% humidity (at 8 AM, mind you), I didn't want to get off the plane. Then I had to wait forever at immigration - after all, they let ME into their country too. On the way to the baggage claim, I withdrew my first 3000 rupees from the ATM (45 €) - should be enough for the first few days...then I finally reached the baggage claim, where my backpack was already guarded by 5 uniformed men, lying on the floor. Now the leaving of the airport security area and thus the rush of taxi drivers and touts was imminent. Before I even stepped outside, I decided to ask a policeman for directions to the metro so that I wouldn't have to wander around and become a particularly interesting target. But the policeman obviously had no idea where the metro was - but he didn't tell me that. Instead, he told me a story - and supposedly ALL Indians do that when they don't know something because they don't want to lose face. Fortunately, I was prepared for something like that and quickly realized that this was not the right way to the metro, and then I tried to at least look purposeful and not lost. I succeeded, and soon the touts left me alone. Meanwhile, the 30 degrees and 90% humidity also took their toll - my T-shirt was soaked as if I had swum through a lake, and my long jeans were on their way there. Plus, I had hardly slept on the flight and the backpack somehow felt much heavier than 16kg...finally, I reached the metro station, where a friendly young Indian helped me to buy a ticket and explained the way to the right train and where I had to change to get to Koyambedu bus station. When I arrived at the bus station, my mission was to find and take the bus to Vellore (distance 150 km or 2.5 hours). While crossing the bus station forecourt, I got my first taste of India in terms of smells and poverty. But I was prepared for that, and it was certainly only a small taste. To avoid having to stop, I asked a policeman about the bus to Vellore. The policeman said it was at the very last terminal. I set off. There were definitely more than a hundred buses going in all directions - it was impossible for an alien to find his way around without any help. A hustle, stench, noise, chaos...suddenly the policeman was behind me again - he had chased after me and now told me that I should follow him because the bus to Vellore was leaving from a different place today...he brought me to the right bus and I got on. The bus was still almost empty. My backpack didn't fit in the luggage compartments, so I placed it next to me on the seat. The bus driver outside kept calling 'Vellore' pronouncing it 'Wellurr'...so 'Wellurr! Wellurr! Wellurr!' while the bus slowly filled up in the blazing sun. After what felt like half an hour, almost all the seats were taken and the bus started with a big 'hellooo' and lots of honking. And I still didn't have a ticket. After a while, the strict and grumpy-looking bus conductor came to me and told me to put my backpack on the floor in the middle of the aisle. I did it, although I found it pointless because now it blocked the aisle, and the seat and even some other seats remained empty. Finally, the conductor went through the bus and collected the fare. 105 rupees (1.5 €) for a 150 km bus ride. I gave him my smallest banknote, 500 rupees (7.20 €), but he couldn't change it. He gave me 400 back and said he would give me the rest later. A few minutes later, he gave me another 95 rupees back. For a while, I tried to stay awake, to perceive and differentiate smells. All the windows were open and the probably 35 degrees warm and humid wind blew through the bus. Anyway, you couldn't escape the smells, because they were simply too intense in the humid air...so: I smell something, that you don't...what do we have here? Fire...garbage...feces...sweat...something delicious to eat...Yasmin from the jasmine garland of the woman in front of me...burnt garbage...decay...animal smells...something delicious again...and always changing...accompanied and underscored by carefully selected Bollywood music and by a very committed honking concert of the bus driver and the other drivers. Then I thought about the ticket again...I had given the conductor 500. He gave me 400 back and then 95 again. According to that, the ticket would have cost 5 rupees (7 cents). That couldn't be right. I dug out the ticket, and it should have cost 105 rupees. I thought to myself, it's already outrageous enough to be driven around for an hour and a half for only one euro fifty cents - but for almost nothing?! That's NOT acceptable. I gave the conductor a hundred back and he couldn't stop smiling...thanked me, patted me on the shoulder...this whole thing repeated itself a few more times until we finally arrived in downtown Vellore and he then personally and very effusively bid me farewell. A young Indian who was traveling with me kindly tried to arrange a motor rickshaw for me. But the price of 150 rupees seemed like extortion to me and I said that I would take buses number 1 and 2 to my accommodation for only 5 rupees (about 7 km to the south). The rickshaw driver couldn't argue with that and immediately lost interest in me. I walked a few hundred meters through the dusty streets and clay paths and found my way to the bus stop for lines 1 and 2. I felt like I was being watched from all sides. Then I arrived at the right bus stop. Again, I was being watched by the others waiting there. The bus arrived...and I thought, "No, you will never get on that now! Especially not with that huge backpack!" What pulled up looked like a carnival float overflowing with people. Fortunately, some got off, and I gathered my courage and got on this colorful vehicle full of Indians. I asked the conductor for

Bagayam Bus Stop, and he smiled at me with an open and warm smile and said, 'Yes! You are right!'...and gave me his standing place...and I was in the spotlight again and was looked at very curiously from all sides, partly with approving glances and friendly nods. One man even said goodbye to me before he got off.

With my mobile app 'Locus Pro' and the installed India map, I was able to keep track of when the bus was close enough to my accommodation to get off and walk the last few meters. At exactly 3 pm, I finally arrived at 'Amoya Homestay', where I was already expected by the dear host Susheela and her family. Then all I had to do was shower...lie down on the bed...process the impressions...sit on the rooftop terrace...process the impressions...lie back on the bed...process the impressions...write...process...write...write...

...maybe a bit too much today, on my first day in India, but maybe it's also the MOST important day of my journey.

I hope I didn't bore anyone too much. Namaste and good night! ;-)

P.S.: I hardly took any photos because it seemed inappropriate in many situations or I was busy with other things.