Awkward Steps into an Alien World - Dudley, England
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Stumble It!Awkward Steps into an Alien World
Dudley, England
I'm sitting in my office at work today, wishing desperately as always that I was somewhere else. The fact that I'm planning to be in South America in a few months doesn't actually make me feel any better. So, I sit here randomly wondering about the world, and travel in particular.
I always thought that travel was about meeting people, and soaking up new and different cultures. Taking that as word of the Gospel I also took it that only way to learn and experience another culture was to leave your friendly shores and jet off. I only ever made a passing acquaintance with anything that happened around me while I was at home, supposing that I'd probably been there and seen it all before. Besides, what's so interesting about Dudley, England?
With a smile I start thinking about last Saturday. I was suddenly startled out of my absent-minded stupor when I realised I was the most foreign person in the room despite the fact I was only ten minutes down my road. I could've been anywhere else in the world because I felt thousands of miles away from home.
A priest and his family had come from Gujarat. Once they arrived they seemed to think, like a lot of people, that I needed to be taken under their wing. They also decided to do their best to turn me into a Gujarati. That's how I found myself agreeing to go to Lord Krishna's birthday celebrations.
I was sitting in a temple to whose religion I didn't belong to, surrounded by people who had a totally different way of life, attitudes and dress to me, and even spoke to me in a language I didn't understand. I felt just like did when I was travelling around India; a slightly crazy, Westernised Indian girl who was eager to learn and couldn't help but display a child-like glee by the simplest things from their way of life...such as wearing a sari.
Now let me say one thing about Saris, they are beautiful, and surprisingly warm, but the golden rule is simple: before you step out in a Sari, PRACTISE. Always, always practise. Practise wearing it, practise walking in it, even practise sitting in it. I felt like a new born colt that was taking its first awkward steps in to an alien world.
The night was a heady whirl of loud joyful music. This was completely different to the quiet serene atmosphere of the Gudwara that I was used to. There was no calm contemplation of the wonder of God here, only a celebration of what was. The beat was catching and I soon found myself clapping along with everyone else, singing the odd few words I recognised, and even found myself getting dragged into dancing. Dancing in the middle of a temple?! I still can't get over how much they simply wanted to enjoy themselves. Amongst those swirl of Saris I curiously found myself praying fervently, that my precariously placed Sari wouldn't fall off...
Overall the night was an exotic mix of fun and devout prayers. What surprised me the most was that most of the people there weren't travellers from India like my friends, but inhabitants of little old Dudley like me, yet for all I knew they could have been from Gujarat.
I'd forgotten that after all people are people, wherever they are in the world, each with their own individual stories. This means that individuals in the countries we visit are no more deserving to be viewed as exotic animals in their habitats as your family and friends at home. Mind you, comparing some of my family to things you'd find in a zoo may well be justified (I joke...really). I guess the main thing is that the people we are travelling FROM are just as interesting as the people we travel TO.
I sit back in my chair to ponder this latest revelation and to begin to wonder what the hell should I do now...?
