Unnecessary Necessities

It takes some getting used to, to find the means living without the things that we are so accustomed to using in our everyday lives.  We are so accustomed, in fact, that we take things for granted, and the question of “how can I live without this” never crosses our mind, or if it does, we go to our “happy place” and try drown out the mere thought of living without certain necessities. 
For example, I have yet to take a hot shower since I have been in India.  Now, don't be mistaken; I have enough respect for my fellow human being that showering everyday is a must for me to alleviate the suffering of those around me, especially those stuck in the same room as me (Kerala gets pretty hot, after all).  But I miss having a warm shower.  Now, for those of you who think that taking a cold shower is the absolutely most primitive action that can be done as far as bathing is concerned, imagine that you cannot even take a shower at all.  “That's ok,” you might say, “At least I can take a bath in the bathtub.”  Sorry, but no bathtub either.  Recently the situation in my life, or rather my bathroom, is that I have lost running water.  No water from the sink, no water flowing into the toilet, and certainly no water coming from the shower head.  I get by the same way others get by here; I go outside, fill up a bucket, bring it back inside, and using a cup, pour water over myself, then scrub, rinse, repeat. 
I am not completely without “luxuries,” or what most people in the US would call “necessities.”  I have internet access, although it is rather limited, due to constant power outages, breakdowns of service, the conflicts with my daily schedule, etc.  I have to plan ahead to use the internet, whereas in California I could  get access whenever I wanted, 24 hours a day.  I can use a washing machine, but sometimes the power goes out unexpectedly.  I can watch television, but again the power is an issue.  Water has to be boiled, filtered, or bought in a bottle in order for it to be safe to drink.  Instead of a spoon and fork, I use an even more ancient and forgotten plate-to-mouth method of eating, older than even the chopstick: my hands. 
It makes me wonder what would happen if a major incident occurred in the US, like the zombie apocalypse, the Browns winning the Superbowl, or Sarah Palin becoming president (HA!  I kid, I kid!), where all the things we have depended on in our daily lives were suddenly gone.  Would we actually, heaven forbid, meet people face to face rather than “friending” them on Facebook?  Would we take better care of our local water resources since it won't pass through a water treatment facility?  Instead of choosing to rot our brains by watching such movies as Eat Pray Love or the Twilight series, would we choose to rot our brains by reading those books instead?  The experience in India has made me reflect on what I have taken for granted in the US, of the things that I considered absolutely necessary, the things that I thought civilization itself depended on, aren't really necessities after all.  But they are really, really, REALLY nice to have. 

Two places at once

Living in a foreign country is difficult.  But not necessarily because of the culture shock, the customs, the driving, the completely different language, the food, etc, etc.  That happens no matter where you go,  like when one moves from North Carolina to California, for example.  California is like a whole different country, where most of the people haven't even heard of a place called North Carolina, or if they have, it was probably just something made up in a Hollywood movie, like the American Revolution or the American Civil War; either way they really don't care.  The most difficult part about leaving one's home to go to a distant and exotic land is that you never really leave home.  No matter how far you go, you always maintain some sort of presence back home, whether you want to or not.  Most people don't want to leave behind or forget home, and so carry a piece of it with them wherever they go.  Perhaps people with the easiest transition are criminals fleeing from a country to avoid prosecution, where all the problems of beginning a new life in a new country far outweigh the alternative of a long prison term back home. 
And so it is with me.  I am living in a foreign land, but part of me is still back home, dealing with issues as if I were back home, and at the same time dealing with all the challenges here.  All of the issues that I left back home are still with me, not to mention all of the new challenges that I face by living in India.  I still have bills to pay, I still have relationships to maintain; the joys and celebrations, the worries and fears, are all still a part of me no matter how far away I go.  The thing is I am not trying to avoid them, and I don't think I could even if I tried.  The difficulty thus lies in the fact that one cannot necessarily give up the pieces of home and at the same time be open to a foreign culture.  You can be open and accepting of a foreign culture, but something about where you came from often gets in the way, or vice versa.  The trick is how to balance the two.  It feels like I am in two different places at once, and each place is pulling at me as in an epic game of tug-o-war.  Perhaps it would have been easier if I had robbed a bank before coming to India.