I’ve been incredibly busy, lately, working underpaid freelance writing jobs just to pay bills and buy modest Christmas gifts for the nieces and nephews. Aside from that, I had a busy weekend with my fellow foreign friends living here in India.
Friday, I went out without my husband for the first time, and spent time with other ladies married to Indian men. Saturday, I spent the day with my husband, and a friend and her husband (who live in Chandigarh but were visiting Delhi). Sunday, I was thrown back into my normal life, with the bonus of a few odd occurrences.
I was riding a high from being around other non-Indian ladies I can relate with so much, and plummeted into a day of not talking and no one talking to me (because they wanted to talk to each other in Hindi, naturally) and thus I quietly followed my sister-in-law around like a child. I was frustrated, and in my rebellion, every fiber of my being was rejecting Indian culture.
It’s gotten to the point where I don’t have an appetite for Indian food. I’m eating half of my normal portions, and I feel like I have to force myself to eat it. I’m craving the familiar more than anything right now.
If I continue to be busy, it’s because I’m working and trying to cope with this new feeling, meanwhile trying to make the most of Christmas.
Featured Image is of a winter cottage (a place I wish I could be) by Stefan Perneborg via Flickr.com