I am now on the ground in India, sitting in Dolly's sister's apartment in Hyderabad. Luckily, she has Internet, so I am able to let all my friends and family know I've arrived safely.

We got in at around 4AM local time, about 9PM EST, after 24 hours of travel inlcuding 2 red-eye flights. The weirdness of the eating and sleeping schedule, and 2 nights in a short period of time has been disorienting enough that I think I can stay up until evening and get a head start on beating jet-lag.

I was slowly eased into India on the flight, which was about 95% Indian, mostly families. Upon landing, we entered an airport that could have been anywhere in the world. Leaving the airport Dolly's sister Pushpa met us, and helped us to a cab where we took an hour's ride to where she lives in Hyderabad.

My initial impressions were to compare it to Mexico. Sprawling brick and concrete architecture, and dusty lanscapes with some scenic rock formations. The streets were fronted by small shops arranged chaotically to my eye. The roads were anarchy, in the sense that there were no formal rules, only a few agreed upon conventions. Cars, scooters, tuk-tuks, bicycles, people, and the occasional dog and cow shared the road, going where they pleased, honking as they went to say both "don't hit me" and "don't get hit by me," depending upon the size of the vehicles involved. The few stop lights were not obeyed, and only caused slow-downs and confusion.

We stopped for coffee and idylees on the way, and I was pleased that my presence as a white man was not causing the spectacle so many had promised. A few longer than normal looks was all that happened... no pointing, no crowding around, and no beggars. It may sound ignorant and conceited to expect that kind of attention, but people who's word I trusted had warned me about it.

Upon arriving home, Pushpa cooked us a nice rice dish for breakfast, and I accompanied her to the market for some vegetables and chicken. I rode on the back of her scooter through the small alleys to the market, which at first appeared to be a dark, crowded place. Once inside, it turned out to be an illusion caused by the bright sun outside and the cool shade inside, and it was much like any farmers market in the US, with a number of vendors all selling pretty much the same in season produce. The biggest difference was the smell from herbs, especially the curry leaves whose smell filled the place when the breeze.

So far, I have not smelled anything terribly offensive - a smoky smell now and then, and an occasional whiff of manure. Again, not the India some of my friends tried to scare me with. The heat they promised is here - my face is red, and my shirt is sticking to me, but only a few short months ago I was cursing the cold and the snow, and I don't have to worry about winter for a while.

After the market, we stopped for some sunblock and some chicken. I expected relatively fresh chicken, and was surprised when the vendor grabbed one from a cage and disappaeared into the back. I looked over the counter and saw the chicken get decapited and dropped into a small pen, where it thrashed around until the nerves stopped twitching. This will be the freshest chicken I have ever eaten.

I am going to end this post now, as I have to now make a curry out of the chicken. Dolly told Pushpa I make a good chicken curry, and now I have to make good on her boast as a white man in an Indian kitchen.