"Welcome to Chennai. The weather is currently 30 degrees, and local time is 00:05," droned the pilot. I was wide awake, considering it was 1:35pm EST back home in the United States. The 9-hour flight from my layover Paris to Chennai felt surprisingly short, and I was able to keep myself entertained by watching 7 episodes of the first season of the Last of Us. Prior to the plane's descent towards arrival, I was struck by a glimpse of the lights emitted from the city thousands of meters below us - Mumbai. Half an hour later, as we approached Chennai, the lights became more scattered. Chennai itself is a large city itself with 12 million residents, but without a doubt, there was a stark contrast to Mumbai's urban population of 21 million people with Chennai's population.
Upon disembarking the plane, I swiftly navigated through customs and immigration. However, I endured nearly an hour-long wait for my checked luggage at the colossal conveyor belt. Exhausted from the ordeal, I emerged from the airport with two suitcases, one carry-on, and a backpack. The overwhelming sensations of encountering a crowd of South Indians, the vibrant lights and aromas from food stalls, and the distant honking of rickshaws and cars, along with the startling humidity, made me acutely aware that I had truly arrived in India. Despite the late hour, the city pulsated with life.
The ride from the airport to my new home was a curious one. There was heavy traffic - a typical occurrence due to numerous international flights departing and arriving at the airport between 12 and 4am. And the incessant honking of cars all around us on the road was a quintessential reminder that I was really in India. Every sight, sound, and sensation felt fresh and unfamiliar. I couldn't help feeling energized and intrigued - emotions I hadn't experienced in a long time. Welcome to my new home — Chennai.
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