Welcome to Bangalore

So, I made it.  20 hrs later and I finally arrived in Bangalore, India.  Please bear with me as I learn how to transition from poetry to novel writing to blogging.  I'm still trying to learn the "blogging culture."  

After clearing customs, which is always awful as foreign security tears through your belongings and marks (often times with white chalk) on your luggage before giving you a once over, then a nod saying that it's okay for you to enter into their country.

I was fortunate enough to find security that spoke English.  Enough to tell me where baggage claim was.  As I waited at baggage claim number 2, I realized that my plane was late by an hour and hoped Nikki (my hostess) would not be worried.  The gate finally opens as I hear the ramp crank up and I secretly hope that my luggage would come quickly.  After the first ten minutes, I figured okay, their must be another cart coming soon, for I still saw about 20 people waiting to collect their bags.  As more bags were deposited onto the ramp and I saw the number of people dwindle, I had a flashback to Lagos.  Where I waited until the gate that opened to deposit the luggage, closed without my luggage.  80% of my trip in Nigeria was spent without my luggage.  I sighed and realized at least that experience had taught me to pack a week's worth of underwear in my carry on and at least two changes of clothes, so, I felt a little comforted.

As I continued to wait trying to dislodge the lost luggage of Lagos out of my mind, I was approached by a woman with two men.  She stated: bag.  72.  bag.  and pointed at the men next to her.  I couldn't figure out what she was saying until I realized that she was trying to get me to pay the men to carry my bags.  Now, my first international trip abroad to Kenya I was duped into thinking that a gentleman was just trying to help a confused American girl out.  Only to find out that the luggage carts were free and that I didn't need to pay him for them.  I later told my Kenyan friends how much the guy told me to pay him and they just shook their heads and told me that he got over: big time.  I quickly looked at the lady, now frustrated that it didn't appear that my luggage was here and acutely told her: no, leave me!  She grouched her shoulders and her and the men disappeared.

I then tried to figure out where to go to report my lost luggage.  No one around me spoke English.  I went person to person trying to communicate: lost baggage.  where do i go?  Finally, an Indian man whose luggage had also not arrived, came up to me and stated that he spoke English and would help me.  I followed him to a small office where approximately ten other people (mostly women) stood/pushed trying to get into the office.  I waited patiently for about five minutes before realizing: closed mouths, don't get fed.  As one young lady tried to elbow her way in front of me, I erected my 140lbs of muscle and fat as I blocked the doorway and gave her that look from Detroit that said: try me if you think I'm playing.  I've drawn the line.  I dare you to cross it.  The woman gave me a once over, huffed then took her place behind me.  It was finally my time to fill out the form.  How much did the bags weigh? What were in them?  What were the names/labels of the bag?  Their description?  I did my best to remember as much as I could as I realized that Nikki was probably freaking out for I had landed about two hours previously.  The process took an extended amount of time for their were two agents who were simultaneously trying to handle the complaints of at least six of us at a time.  Instead of working on one customer at a time, they accepted all of the forms from people who would thrust the paper in the agent face demanding that they were finished.  At this point I gave way and decided, I'm way too tired for this.  At this point, what would be the point.  Hell, I didn't even know where to go once I left the small office of the lost baggage.  The agent finally handed me a copy of my receipt and told me that they would deliver it to me tomorrow morning.  I'm thinking: yeah, right and I must be your Indian sister.  I just hoped that the luggage would turn up within the week.  

Grudgingly, I rolled my carry on luggage looking for the way out before immediately being stopped by two security guards who pointed me back in the direction from which I came.  I sighed, surrendered my passport and said: where next?  They pointed me to a counter in which a man with a thick mustache extended his hand for my paperwork.  I handed him my lost luggage receipt and passport.  He looked through my passport, gave me the seal of approval then asked if anything else was in the suitcase that I had not listed on the receipt.  I forgot that I had not listed my books/jounals.  I told him: oh, my books.  Hooks, he replied? No, books. He gave me a look of confusion.  So, I placed my hands together with the palms open and facing upward, while moving my head left to right.  B-O-O-K-S!  He laughed and said: ooohhh vooks.  Yes. As we both smiled, I realized that non-verbal communication is still the most prevalent and communicative language there is.  I heard a loud banging on the glass doors which caused the security to jump up.  I looked only to see Nikki holding her chest and waving frantically at me.  I ran to the window as we had "A Color Purple" reunion through the glass.  The security figured that we were long lost sisters who had traveled the world to be together.  And at the moment we were.