Bed of Green

There it is, where the earth meets the ocean into a never ending path of blue.

Dawn has slowly risen and above, as the plane slowly descends to our destination, we see out the window sporadic flashes of pink lightning.

"Has the monsoon started yet?", we wonder.

And then, as we approach, we see it even better : the sun glistening on a bed of green, slowly tickling with its morning rays all the palm trees that cover this new land, our new home.

We arrive at the small airport of Trivandrum. The air is already warm and humid. Our first fear; the policeman at the counter wants to know our address. Of course! Neither one of us thought of writing it down. Fortunately, it is only a formality and we move on into the internal jungle of finding our luggage. Our second fear: we see boxes after boxes of things some of the indian families that have travelled with us have brought back from the Emirates. But no suitases. After almost an hour's wait and jetlag heavily hitting us, we find our things and walk out into the hot, early morning air.

Amidst the wave of families in waiting, we find our guide. Ramesh Menon, Kalpana's husband, greets us with a bright, already sweaty smile and strong embrace. "Welcome to India!", he says. "Where is our bed?", we impolitely think. It doesn't matter. We are swept up and put in a car with Ramesh happily talking what we think is English (indeed it is, but our jetlag falses our impression). We eagerly open our eyes to the outside world, the world which Trivandrum will now offer us as its inhabitants. And in the new overload of colors and smells, we catch some key words from our host: "police car", "staying in house of Senior Chief Police Officer of Trivandrum". We nod in politeness and return to our staring.

And then, we stumble upon our new home and its past owners. Once again, we are swept inside, embraced by the wife and warmly greeted by the husband. And here starts the whirlwind of questions, talking, laughing, eyeing, etc. Bina Nair (the wife) offers us breakfast: idli with sauce and a coconut type of puree. Politely, we eat....with our right hand. The spices hit Marie first. Her eyes get bigger but due to her French upbringing her composure still the same. Finally, the fatigue and the difficulty in fully grasping the language gives in on her and she has to excuse herself for not being able to finish.

In the meantime it has been established that the signature of the contract will be at 10:30 am; auspicious time for doing business. We talk, laugh and continue to eye each other. I try to find out if it possible to take some money out in order to pay the Nairs' their lease. Since they have to catch a flight in the early afternoon, show us the house and sign the contract, there is no time to quibble about money. So, instead, they give us 2000 rupees (!!!) for food and we give them in exchange, for proof of our good faith, 10 euros. Ramesh laughs saying it is the first time Lessors pay Lessees to stay in their house.

I forgot to mention something very important. A detail to some but of absolute truth and naturalness to us. As we explained the reason of our moving here, Ramesh and the Nairs' asked us if we had everything taken care of in terms of administrative procedures: bank account, phone number, etc. No sooner had we told them we had not been able to do so did they immediately pick up their cellphones (two for each person mind you) and called the necessary services.

By the time they left and the house became once again very still, had we appointments to settle everything at the beginning of the following week.

This desire to help has, so far, not failed. On the contrary, every single day, we have proof that this natural kindness and help is an inherent part of the Indians.

As Ramesh and the Nairs' depart, Marie and I do not yet find ourselves fully alone in our new home. Indeed, this time we face two policemen who continually guard the house : Justin and Pradeem. They are here if we need anything. Imagine the scene in "Le Bon, La Brute et le Mechant": two young women facing two young men. A mixture of curiosity, discomfort and respect. Who will give in first into this new situation? Finally, we let them know that we need to rest and so they gently leave us be.

We got up the stairs and take possession of our rooms : Marie has the one with the dark wood. I, the one with the white walls. I collapse on the, what I am about to discover, very hard mattress and fall into a deep, warm sleep, leaving Marie to her fate.

I wake up and stumble, dazed, into our first house crisis: Marie's room is full of ants and small stinging creatures. She is covered in bites and Justin, who is with her, stands in the middle of a room which has been stripped naked of all sheets and curtains. This action will give all its meaning to Marie's new surname : "The curtaintor". What to do? I call the Nairs who nonchalantely tell me to put all beauty products in the middle of a bassin filled with water. Marie is definitely not satisfied with that answer. I call my father (the one who knows all in terms of India) who tells us to relax and yell at the ants in French, sure thing to make them go away. I knew I did the right thing by calling him...

Little by little, as I slowly emerge from my drowsiness does Marie explain the situation to me: in fact, she had noticed a couple of ants in her bathroom and had therefore asked Justin to put some anti-ant product. This action was fatal as it brought out all the ants and bugs that had been hiding in her bedroom. I had arrived just in time for the invasion.

The crisis passes and the evening softly invites itself into the house.

Justin has gone out to get us some bread and butter. We sit in our new kitchen, softly munching on our stuffy white slices, not fully realizing yet that this is a place, a town or a life that we can now call "home".