June 9, Monday, First day in India

My first night is restless. I sleep for six hours, from 9 until 5am. I wake up at 3 but make myself go bck to sleep. At 5 I get up and have some milk and cereal, enjoying how quiet it is. The heat has increased noticeably overnight despite my air conditioning. I have a dull headache which I attribute to dehydration until I have had 5 glasses of water with no improvement. I shower in tepid water, a fine temperature for a humid bathroom. It reminds me of central america, bathing in such a sticky environment, only feeling refreshed while under the single stream of water. I try to go back to sleep for another hour or so, but either because the mattress is harder than I am used to or because my mind is swarming with anticipation for my first day in India, i am unable to rest. I unpack my clothes into the wardrobe, hanging all my dresses and wondering where I will put my salwar kamiz.
I peek out the window, noticing the large padlock keeping the panes shut and see, posing in the morning sunlight, perched atop a stairwell across the way, a proud, and hideous pigeon. I mosey outside, happy in my long skirt and thin t-shirt, only to find my roomates are not yet up. The driver babbles on the phone in hindi and barely acknowledges my presence. I wander out onto a small porch off an empty room and smile at a woman in a bright pink salwar kamiz who is sweeping the area.
I get dressed into the extra-large salwar kamiz, a light pink color but whose tunic reaches to my ankles instead of my knees. I follow my roomate cary and the driver and get into the awaiting jeep. Halfway through our journey, someone from the organization calls and tells cary she better return to the apartment becuase the birthday party she had helped prepare for is not going to happen. Later I see women dressed in their best saris, ready for the party that is in fact happening. Meanwhile I meet Freddy Martin, whom I think is Paul, the man I had been contacting. He tells me how to get internet, gives me a password that later does not work, and warns me about Delhi Belly. I then meet the actual Paul, who is much younger than I expected, and rather good looking. He introduces me to a Delhi native who just finished his first year in college who will be working with me in the slums.I couldn't quite catch his name and he is a bit hard to understand but seems very nice. I notice that despite the machismo of society, all the men I've met are quick to open doors and allow me to go first.
After a brief orientation by power point to Asha most of which I had written in my grant proposal which was denied, I am introduced to the head of the English Literacy program. She gives me a book and tries to chat, though I have to guess most of what she is asking because I am not used to their accent. I am shuttled around the site as more and more women and children from the slum show up at the center decked out in salwar kamiz and saris of every brilliant hue.I feel like no one at the organization is listening to me. for some reason they think i am doing a research project on tuberculosis. i want to scream that i am Not pre-med and They assigned me the tuberculosis project. Also the students i am supposed ot teach are teenagers, while I thought I'd be working with younger kids. After looking at the folder they gave me partially written by former volunteers, I am frustrated that i am seeing this Now when the main suggestion is to purchase textbooks at home in a Western country, so now I have no books or supplies. Finally i get to say hello to Dr. Martin, the founder who I met with six months ago in December. I see now that she is undoubtedly the source of power in this organization and unfortunately also is excited for my role in the tuberculosis project. She goes up to the party, a birthday event for her, and I am lead off with a driver to purchase some salwar kamiz and have lunch.
have my first meal in India at none other than Subway. I can honestly say the only other time I have had Subway was in Honduras. Thanks to an unfortunate event in eighth grade when a friend of mine got sick in Subway, the smell of the store makes me nauseus. The veggie delight I have is surprisingly tasty, and I get to know another employee of Asha. He is from the North Eastern part of India, bordering on Burma and China. He studied political science and has a masters of social work. We chat and I observe a small cockroach scuttling across the floor. Luckily I have finished eating but the cookie in my hand suddenly loses its appeal. I read the snapple label in Arabic, sounding out the word "cocktail" from what I remember of my one semester.
We then head over to Fabindia where I awkwardly pick out some huge balloon like pants and some gorgeous tops while my escorts boredly watch me. The price tag is higher than I expect, I havent gotton my rupee to dollar conversions figured out in my head, but I figure its worth it. I watch some skinny street kids wandering around the marketplace and ask what they are doing. My host explains they are begging or stealing and elaborates not to give them money because they spend it on drugs, namely LSD.
I take a nap which lasts longer than expected, I'm definitely jet lagged but its not linked to my former time zone. I woke up early but that would have been evening, and slept all afternoon which would have been morning. I make myself get up around 7pm and am presented with some pasta my roomate has cooked. My eyes widen when I see it has bits of tuna and corn instead of sauce. I don't eat fish but I don't want to offend my roomate or her Scottish ways so I try to pick away the tuna but the bits are sticky. It doesn't taste bad though and theres nothing else to eat so I force down about half the plate. I hope I didn't just consciously given myself Delhi Belly, which Ross is still suffering from. The internet is still not working, and the Indian sim card did not work in my phone. After watching two American movies on tv I head to bed only to discover my air conditioning isnt working. I decide to sleep in my bedroom despite the warmth, not relishing the idea of being woken up at 8am in my pajamas by the guy coming to fill up the water tank. I also hope that sleeping in the heat will help me to acclimate to it during the day. I have yet to plug in my computer, not sure how the voltage adapted works. I had to force my other adapter into the wall socket which thouroughly resisted it in order to charge my phone.
I wake up at 3am burning up. This jet lag makes no sense and now i am roasting in here. Either it gets hotter during the night or my body temperature goes up when I sleep, I know the latter is true but right now it feels like its both. I'm hungry because I havent been able to eat a proper meal in 3 days. I can already see the weight coming off. Not that it matters because the clothes I have to wear could fit two people comfortably at the same time.