Arriving in Calcutta

Flying over the mangroves of southern India was like taking a rip through an abstract painting. Rivers and streams twisitng and turning in endless browns and greens creating a portrait reminicent of work hung on the walls of the MOMA. The scenery turned quickly to a patchwork of mismatched fields in every shade of green imaginable. The massive brown waterways gave way to clusters of homes surrounded by trees, which soon faded into the concrete of Calcutta. As we descended, gazing out the tiny airplane window, I couldn't help but think how much the view reminded me of flying into the Sacramento airport. It was comforting to know that on the otherside of the world I could so easily be reminded of home. As we got closer, the familiarity of home began to fade. Brightly colored saris navigated the streets, decaying houses and buildings are splattered with mold, and soon the piles of garbage reveal themselves too. The dirtiness of the city begins to emerge.