Aw, look at how happy these two are in their taxi ride to the Tulsa airport.
A flight from Tulsa to Chicago, then a flight from Chicago to Newark. It was a long day.
We had traveled for 11 hours when it was time to find the gate where we would board the plane to India. Right across from the gate was a currency exchange. We changed a good deal of cash into rupees so we wouldn't have to think about doing that when we were bleary-eyed and exhausted at our destination. Brian wanted me to sit down with it and take a picture. If I look nervous, it's because I know how crazy it is to display a pile of cash in public (even in the far corner of the waiting area):
The picture above was taken about five minutes before we found out we wouldn't be able to get on the plane that night. This gal is about to get an ugly shock.
Brian was so pleased with the bills, he had to get a close-up:
Once we got into our hotel room, Brian snapped this picture to document my phone call to Mom telling her the whole we're-not-going-to-India-today story.
Here I am with the lovely woman who helped us find our way from the hotel to Manhattan:
It might sound pitiful to need help getting from a hotel to Manhattan but it was a bit complicated. United got us rooms at the Ramada at the airport. Consequently, we had to take the hotel shuttle to the airport in order to connect with the Newark bus system. This compassionate woman came into our hotel's restaurant for breakfast alone. She was the only person in there besides Brian and me and she was wearing an abaya. I thought she must be on her way abroad and got waylaid like we did. I made a point of waving hello when she came in and saying "bye" when we left the restaurant. When we went to the lobby to catch the shuttle, she was waiting there too and she asked where we were from, etc. Turns out she had been behind us when we checked in the night before and had heard our whole story. She's a Newark native and she offered to give us some advice and directions. Without her, I don't know how long it would have taken for us to figure out the shuttle, bus, and two trains it would take to get us where we were going in Manhattan. She wrote notes to remind us and gave us her cell number in case we needed any further help. Her name is Ave Maria.
At the PATH train station, while waiting for the train to take us from Newark to Manhattan, we found ourselves standing across the track from a poster for Sharukh Kahn's new movie that we hope to see in Delhi when it opens Dec. 23.
The photo was taken with Brian's iPhone, so the image isn't clear enough to see the poster. Here is what it is:
We exited the PATH system (from Newark) at the World Trade Center. We had to come above ground there to change over to the Metro system. Lots of posters showed the plans for the new transport station that will make changing trains efficient again. It's still a big construction site. The way to the memorial was marked but Brian didn't want to go there.
Here are two photos Brian snapped of the new towers going up.
We achieved the goal of the trip into Manhattan: to find the Indian Consulate so we could get there without confusion on Monday when it opened. Brian snapped this picture of me in front of India's very, very closed door:
As the photo clearly shows, we were very cold during this little jaunt. Latter, as we walked through Manhattan, I ducked into a JC Penney's to buy some trouser socks so my feet wouldn't actually get frostbite in the almost-freezing streets. Sales people looked at how we were dressed and asked, "Aren't you cold?" It was vaguely satisfying to have them respond with surprise and enormous sympathy when we then told them about why we were roaming Manhattan dressed for New Delhi.
Cold though I was, the sari gave us some immediate connections. A sales woman at Penney's (Thanks, Sumita!) took us up and got us checked out without waiting in line because her parents are from India and she recognized the sari. I was treated to a quick checkout in a busy holiday store the second Saturday before Christmas and a delightful conversation with an interesting young woman all because of what I was wearing. A few women of Indian descent complimented my sari at various times in the street and Metro--a welcome bit of friendliness in a big city. And one of the security guards at the airport (through which we are obliged to pass whenever leaving or returning to our hotel in Newark) said "Namaskar" to me as I passed. I returned the greeting and we smiled at each other. All in all, it may have been well worth the near freezing to wear this say-hello-if-you're-Indian-American outfit. Also, remember, it was my being in a sari and her being in an abaya that got Ave Maria and me talking in the first place. Interesting how clothing can work.
On our walk from the consulate, we passed an Indian restaurant and couldn't resist the chance to get out of the cold for a little bit. The restaurant was on the second floor and so we had to buzz for admission to the stairway that entered from the street, walk up a steep flight of stairs, and go through a narrow, twisting hallway to get in. Once the door was opened, the smell was so beautiful and intense, it felt as if the meal had already begun. If this is a foretaste of India, I'm thrilled! Brian was so delighted with the food, it merited a photo:
It cost no more than the India Palace in Tulsa, and (I love you, India Palace, but this must be said) it was much better food. Beging on the second story, our table at the window overlooked Lexington Avenue. It was great entertainment to watch the traffic and people go by:
My personal favorites were the many little dogs in expensive haircuts and little winter jackets. (Even the dogs on the Eastside were better dressed for the weather than we were.)
The amazing Apple store near Times Square was doing as robust a Christmas business as its size could accommodate. We needed to go there to get a cord to recharge the laptop. (I had, against the advice I give my students when packing, put the cord in the checked bag even though I was bringing the laptop as carry-on. I knew better and violated my own rule: never separate a device and its cords.)
When the crowds made us squirm, we reminded ourselves that this is nothing compared to the crowds we will have to navigate in Delhi and Mumbai.
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