Today I created a new file folder on my computer titled “Accidental Indian Newspaper Appearances.” I figure that since I hit three as of today, that it now officially counts apparently as a category of photos that are frequent enough to be classified.

It’s been exactly one year since my last accidental run-in with the press after mistakenly joining an all male funeral procession because I thought it was a parade, and here we are again. For the record, this year’s newspaper appearance was not for the same reason. I’ve learned my lesson about not joining mysterious, one-gender parades.

Can someone with better math skills than my own please calculate the probability of this happening twice? Because I’m pretty sure the number is smaller than, well, than something small.

But we’ll get there.

It’s been two months since I moved more than 13,000km away from my familiar, sunny home of Dripping Springs, Texas (population: 3,104) to New Delhi, India (population: 27,928,000).

Just a teensy bit different.

This whole ex-pat business is simultaneously exhilarating and exhausting. When people call to ask how life is across the pond, I tell them that as confusing as officially entering post-graduate adulthood in a place where you speak the same language and grew up with the same currency as everyone else- this is some next level stuff.

It took a month and a half to set up a bank account, courtesy the myriad of governmental regulations regarding foreigner employees. I manage my finances in rupees, converting everything into dollars in my head to get a reference point, and then changing it back to rupees. Toilet paper isn’t really a thing here. My iPhone and computer charge cords look like super dope robots with their adapters strapped onto the plugs so that they fit the outlets here. Finding a flat was an experience and a half. When I wasn’t off climbing a mountain, I was going to tour prospective apartments that I found posted for sale by random humans on the internet.

How looking for a flat in Delhi makes me feel.

Man, has it been fun.

I realized as I typed that, that it sounded sarcastic- but it seriously isn’t. I thrive off of the challenges that this weird, wonderful new way of living throws at me. It’s kind of like playing the game Frogger- you’re technically just trying to cross the street while cars and shit come flying at you, making you have to improvise and problem-solve along the way. But the whole reason playing that game is fun is because of those “cars and shit,” and living here is no different.

It’s not only the challenges that make it fun though, it’s also just the everyday quirks that give this place the character I love so much. What have these two months encompassed that have made ex-pat life an adventure so far, you ask? Here are the highlights:

  • The Butt Hose: bet you weren’t expecting that answer, huh? Even though I spent almost six months here last year, I never wavered in my refusal to use the drippy metal squirt hose attached to every toilet here. I got over my aversion of the squat toilet rather quickly (after all, it’s not like we’re exactly staying it the Ritz Carlton when we’re trekking the Himalayas). But the butt hose? No freaking way. I carried toilet paper with me everywhere. Everywhere.
Ain’t she purty?

Can you blame me? One: I had never seen, let alone used one before coming here, but two: how the heck do you dry off?? Do you just walk around all drippy afterwards? If anyone has the answer on this, do enlighten me. Anyways, about two weeks ago, I found myself stranded in the bus station bathroom, out of toilet paper. Panic ensued. I looked at the hose on the wall next to me. It looked back, victoriously, knowing it had finally won.

I am proud, and more than slightly surprised to announce that it has been more than two weeks since I have used toilet paper. I’m like a new human. You gotta be careful with those things though. Don’t turn it on too fast- the thing is like a power-washer (ouch).

  • People use shampoo for their windshield wiper fluid: yes, hair shampoo, shaken up and mixed with water. My friend Ishan swears by it.
  • The daily rickshaw argument: every day to and from work I take an auto rickshaw to the metro station. It’s 30 Rupees. I know this, because I’ve done it twice a day, every day, for two months. The problem is, the auto driver’s think I’m a tourist and will fall for their fake price tag of 150 rupees for a ride that costs 30. Without fail, I have to bargain every morning- telling them “bhai, mai Bharat me rheti hoon, mera kam yahi hai.” (Brother, I live in India and my work is here). I’ve become quite efficient with the whole process.
  • Eating each other’s lunch at work: now this is one of my favorite things. In the States- you pay for your food, you eat your food, people ask permission to taste it. Here, on my first day of work, a coworker, without any warning, reached into my food and began eating. I quickly learned that everyone’s food is everyone’s. “Mine” and “Yours” are not so concrete here. Now, every day is a buffet at lunch. I reach over and grab Sushant’s roti (tortilla-like bread), Girish eats a handful of my vegetables and Ritvij gives me half of his mango. I know it’s normal to them, but to me, this is something very special. Also I have to stop myself from doing this in the States, because I’ll get slapped if I just randomly grab someone’s sandwich.
  • One big, fat, absolutely nuts Punjabi wedding: man those people know how to party
      • Breaking a new personal altitude record: working for a trekking company, I’ve hit some pretty tall milestones, but on a recce in July to Kang Yatse II, I smashed my previous personal record by over 4,000 feet by reaching 19,900ft. It was exhausting, lung-deflating and truly magic.
      Three treks and 110+ miles of trekking
      I haven’t driven a car in 60 days
      Wait? There’s a maid?: practically every middle-class household on up in Delhi has a maid and cook who come to the house twice a day to cook breakfast, lunch, dinner, wash everyone’s clothes, take out the trash, sweep and mop the floors, etc.- including our house. The first morning, when the cleaning lady came in at 7:00am to sweep my floor, I was beside myself. I know this is normal here, but NOT in the States. I’ve decided to opt out of the cooking and cleaning services from now on- there are few things I just don’t think I’ll ever get used to, but this is one of them.
      Speaking of apartments, my flatmates are the bomb: seriously. They’re all a bunch of crazy girls, which means I fit right in. We are terrible influences on each other, always convincing each other to eat ice cream at midnight, staying awake giggling til late and going shopping for clothes we don’t need. It’s like a sleepover all the time- I love them.
      Accidental Hindi Attacks: sometimes, because I’m getting better and better with my Hindi each day, my coworkers and roommates will forget I can’t speak that fast, and will come up to me speaking at full-speed. Then there’s usually a pause as they realize, a quick glance of “oops” and then both of us bust out laughing. I guess it’s a good sign if a native speaker forgets you’re not fluent?

    So there you have it, friends. From butt hose battles to scaling epic peaks to accidental fashion show/newspaper appearances- it’s been one heck of a summer so far.

    I think everyone should live as an ex-pat at some point- it’ll knock the wind out of you, but in a fun kind of way. Here’s to all the friends, challenges, mistakes and unbelievable adventures the last two months have held, and here’s to many more in India until the government kicks me out.

    Here’s to the butt-hose moments of life.