I write on Europe with a sense of fulfillment - the kind a pilgrim feels when he/she ends his/her journey. I remember my grand-uncle describing Europe to me as 'very clean, with no dirt whatsoever'. For a six-year-old in Delhi, the concept of a dirt-free continent, country, city or even a neighbourhood, was enough to create an impression that she would carry on to her adulthood.
Then there were stories - of white men and women who'd discard their old clothes once the new season came in, of people who at with only forks and knives without leaving any breadcrumbs on their plates, of trains that were never late, of large unfenced gardens and esplanades, of monuments that were so very clean and of people who chose to mind their own businesses instead of poking their noses into others' affairs - that me wonder, and dream.
I journeyed through the streets of Cologne, Paris and Luzern (Lucernne) to check for myself if those descriptions of Europeans were true. Had I told my husband that this was my purpose, he'd have laughed his head off and asked me to relax and have a good time. To my surprise, everything I'd heard of the continent, was true (except for the hats, though). The cities were clean (except for the graffiti on the walls of Paris's metro stations, Zurich's underpasses and Cologne's cathedral) the trains almost never late (the driver of our Basel-Cologne Intercity Express was extremely apologetic when the train arrived 10 minutes late at the Cologne main station), gardens that would never be encroached upon and people who did eat with forks at knives.
In Switzerland, I sat at a dinner with girls from eight different countries in Europe discussing Bollywood, fashion, arranged marriages, weddings in India and Mumbai. I found them to be curious about India and Indians... about our habits and day-to-day activities. Some wondered why Bollywood directors like shooting at their college campus, others wanted to join in the shoots. It was a relaxed evening... one of conversation and food (and lots of alcohol). Many thought India was unsafe for them to travel alone. Some wanted to holiday in Goa and Mumbai.
We look at foreigners in India as some kind of rare breed. If they're white, we'll either ogle at them (especially if they're women) or treat them with deference and offer them a drink for free at a pub. If they're black, we simply, mindlessly label them as drug-addicts.
It's hard to find where we stand when we go abroad. For, we too are foreigners then. If you're in Britain, you'll know your place soon. But in the middle of Paris that is overrun with tourists from all over the world, it's difficult to find out where you stand. If you eat with your hands at a posh, upmarket French restaurant in India, you're more likely to be looked down upon by the hotel's staff and guests than if you'd do the same at a fancy restaurant at Champs Elysees, the poshest street in Paris. Ditto with Cologne that sees few black tourists and even fewer browns.
If you speak English, they'll nod in response. If you don't, they'll smile understandingly. And they most certainly know that you couldn't possibly speak their language like them, eat like them or behave like them. And they don't want it either. They want to see how you eat, talk and sleep. They don't want to see how well a brown-skinned foreigner can mimic their habits. They just want to meet you, dine with you and see yourself being you. You'd probably be made to feel more like a foreigner in certain places in India than abroad!
Then there were stories - of white men and women who'd discard their old clothes once the new season came in, of people who at with only forks and knives without leaving any breadcrumbs on their plates, of trains that were never late, of large unfenced gardens and esplanades, of monuments that were so very clean and of people who chose to mind their own businesses instead of poking their noses into others' affairs - that me wonder, and dream.
I journeyed through the streets of Cologne, Paris and Luzern (Lucernne) to check for myself if those descriptions of Europeans were true. Had I told my husband that this was my purpose, he'd have laughed his head off and asked me to relax and have a good time. To my surprise, everything I'd heard of the continent, was true (except for the hats, though). The cities were clean (except for the graffiti on the walls of Paris's metro stations, Zurich's underpasses and Cologne's cathedral) the trains almost never late (the driver of our Basel-Cologne Intercity Express was extremely apologetic when the train arrived 10 minutes late at the Cologne main station), gardens that would never be encroached upon and people who did eat with forks at knives.
In Switzerland, I sat at a dinner with girls from eight different countries in Europe discussing Bollywood, fashion, arranged marriages, weddings in India and Mumbai. I found them to be curious about India and Indians... about our habits and day-to-day activities. Some wondered why Bollywood directors like shooting at their college campus, others wanted to join in the shoots. It was a relaxed evening... one of conversation and food (and lots of alcohol). Many thought India was unsafe for them to travel alone. Some wanted to holiday in Goa and Mumbai.
We look at foreigners in India as some kind of rare breed. If they're white, we'll either ogle at them (especially if they're women) or treat them with deference and offer them a drink for free at a pub. If they're black, we simply, mindlessly label them as drug-addicts.
It's hard to find where we stand when we go abroad. For, we too are foreigners then. If you're in Britain, you'll know your place soon. But in the middle of Paris that is overrun with tourists from all over the world, it's difficult to find out where you stand. If you eat with your hands at a posh, upmarket French restaurant in India, you're more likely to be looked down upon by the hotel's staff and guests than if you'd do the same at a fancy restaurant at Champs Elysees, the poshest street in Paris. Ditto with Cologne that sees few black tourists and even fewer browns.
If you speak English, they'll nod in response. If you don't, they'll smile understandingly. And they most certainly know that you couldn't possibly speak their language like them, eat like them or behave like them. And they don't want it either. They want to see how you eat, talk and sleep. They don't want to see how well a brown-skinned foreigner can mimic their habits. They just want to meet you, dine with you and see yourself being you. You'd probably be made to feel more like a foreigner in certain places in India than abroad!
1 comment:
You should consider writing a travelogue
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