So a general surgeon, an ob/gyn, an anesthesiologist, and an ENT get into an autorickshaw…

We have arrived in India! After 20 some hours of plane travel and airports we landed in Chennai. We were blasted by muggy heat, mosquitos, and the smell of curry. Well the latter was probably just our imagination. We attempted discretion as we exited the airport but found ourselves facing thousands of Indian men. Some were holding signs with names of travelers, most there for who knows what reason. There were all, however, staring at us. After a few days I have realized that this is not going to change. There very few tourists in South India, specifically in the state of Tamil Nadu where we are. Also, everyone wears traditional sarees or more modern but still very Indian Punjabi suits. Western clothes are not worn. Ankles are not shown unless they are adorned with bracelets. In general we are freaks here. We have jewel colored eyes and I have “spots” on my skin. Children stare and laugh, teenage boys gossip and wave, men have lingering gazes and women either smile in interest or glare in annoyance. No one bothers us and we feel very safe, but I now have a new empathy for Britney Spears. Navigating a foreign land under the watchful gaze of everyone is rather exhausting. We arrived via vintage British automobile to our hotel our first night. We entered our room to find no electricity. Turns out there actually is electricity if you place our large golden room key into a hole in a box on the wall. I cold tell that the bellhop we summoned was thinking “silly American girls.” But honestly, who does that. Our hotel room boasted 2 twin beds despite us asking for two double. We called down for mattresses and a man brought two small, brown stained mattresses I am assuming from the “it’s a hard knock life” set of Annie. We said no thanks and pushed the beds together and cozied up for our first night in India. The next we attacked Chennai tourist style. We walked around the city and then planned to hop into an autorickshaw which is a small yellow turbo golf cart used for commuting people around the city because most Indians cant afford cars. They usually use autorickshaws or “autos” motorbikes, buses, or walking for transportation. So we hopped in an auto which costs around a dollar. And then the period of the trip where we began to fear for our lives began. Drivers in India do not adhere to any rules. They don’t stay in any particular lane and just honk louder the closer they come to imminent death. The streets are filled with motor bikes, buses, pedestrians, cows, dogs, venders, and garbage. Everything is chaos and noise and if you aren’t paying attention you are certain to get honked at or clipped by some form of traveler.