By Sydney Kornegay

Sunrise in India – though the noise and chaos of the cities could sometimes feel overwhelming, sunrises in India always carried a sort of peace with them. Editor’s note: Sydney Kornegay was one of the first Cub Reporters for The Columbia Star while she was a student at A.C. Flora High School where she graduated in 2007. She was awarded Davidson College’s top merit scholarship. The John Montgomery Belk scholarship is one of the most prestigious undergraduate scholarships in the country and is valued at $170,000 over four years including summer stipends for travel and study. It recognizes academic prowess, integrity, passion for life and records of distinction in myriad areas of school and community life.

We had all chosen to study abroad in India for different reasons.

Above and below, part of the daily traffic in downtown Jaipur. Some came for the culture, because they had grown up fascinated by the food, the music, and the art of India. Others came for the academics: to learn Hindi or to study International Development.

Me?

I came because India was a big black hole on the map of my understanding, a place so foreign that it seemed like a fairy tale. I came because when my best friend, a former resident of Delhi, talked about her home, I couldn’t even pretend to comprehend. I came to gain a new perspective and to challenge my ideas.

I came because I wanted India to scare me. And within the first week, India was happy to oblige.

Throughout our incountry orientation, the 17 other students and I were bombarded with safety warnings concerning our new country. Cross the road, our professors told us, and you’ll be run over by a rickshaw. Walk outside alone, and you’ll be kidnapped. Don’t eat street food – you’ll get parasites – and that kindly old couple on the train? Don’t be fooled, they’re probably hardened criminals.

And while I was fairly sure India couldn’t be all that deadly, I wasn’t positive. As we were shuttled from one nice hotel to the next, the only glimpse I got of “the real India” was through the car window. I felt like I was in an air–conditioned fish bowl, and what I did see seemed chaotic and confusing. Cars, rickshaws, and motorbikes were everywhere; crossing the street was like a high–risk version of Human Frogger. Two lane roads turned into four lane free– for–alls, as drivers ignored all traffic laws and safety measures. Cars honked madly at anyone crazy enough to cross the street, but swerved reverently around the cattle in the middle of the highway. Camel carts, vendors, beggars, and street performers – it was all just one big, blurry mess, speeding by my windowpane.

It will be fine, I reassured myself. You’ve just got to get out there. But as we slowly tottered out of the confines of our hotel wall, I felt less like a confident traveler and more like an infant learning to walk in a big, confusing world.

The smell of sewage mixed with the aroma of chapattis (traditional Indian bread), the sounds of cars honking and music blaring, the woman in a business suit and the homeless child in rags – all combined to make my first few days in the cities of Delhi and Jaipur a both exciting and overwhelming experience.

Nevertheless, by the end of our orientation period, I was ready to get out of hotels and into my Indian host family. After a week of insulation from the “world out there,” we were finally dropped off with our families in Jaipur.

India immersion, begin!