How do we spend our time over here? In lots of ways!
Duller moments include activities such as laying flat on the bed, positioning onself under the ceiling fan in a way that, should the ceiling fan fall, won't result in an amputated head/arm/leg. This is an idle but relevant thought because the ceiling fan blades here are metal. This is probably to prevent termites, ants, mold, humidity and other enemies of all things tangible from eating them away and them spinning off into a less gory version of my idle day dream.
There's reading: Saby's already, as of a few days back, gone through an entire year's worth of India Today (or The Week? I can't remember) weekly magazines, plus the 2004 first quarter worth of Reader's Digests (from which he's culled interesting information about our allergies). He's also finished an IQ quiz book, the dirty scenes from The Godfather, and an interesting tome called Hitler's War Directives, 1939-1945.
There's sleep. First nap comes as early as 10am, but sometimes we wait until after lunch. You need to siesta the hot part of the day away. We're getting weird dreams here. I saw a sea lion slide down the driveway to the little road, then dreamed I flew one morning to Paris and back without anyone knowing. Strangely enough, when I told Saby (in my dream) I had already begun to think that it had only been a dream (again - in my dream!) and so we sat and checked my passport and there were all the stamps! Seems I had also gone to Barcelona. Saby dreamed a Korean man was trying to steal Elena, and he couldn't get back to sleep after that because he kept checking to make sure she was there in her crib.
There's eating. Note to self: SIT WITH MUMMY AND GET RECIPES!!!!
There's America's Funniest Home Videos, affectionately known as AFV. At 5:50 pm it's neither 5:50 nor 17:50 - it's "ten minutes to AFV!"
There's Mummy watering her plants. There's something very graceful and romantic in the way she fills a bucket at the spigot and carries it around, doling out splashes of water to her trees, bushes, and flowers. It's very much how a movie would picturize the pretty farm hand feeding her prized chickens, a sort of routine familiarity with a little love mixed in. She does this two times a day (calling it her daily exercise) and the 2nd time around is more leisurely, perhaps because she's not racing to beat the midday heat that begins around 10:30am. Last time we were here, she showed me all the different plants and flowers - some brought from Bangalore, or California, or other places from relatives and friends; she had said something along the lines (I don't remember exactly) of being a crazy retired lady who talks to her plants. This time around she's either not talking to them as much, or is more at peace with the whole process and didn't feel the need to bring it up.
There's nature watching. Mummy and Daddy have been in this house for almost 10 years now, and they know the coming and goings of all the local wildlife. The crow family operates from our three family houses (ours, Appapan's, Chackochen Uncle's) and flies back and forth looking to see who's most recently dumped out some food. Two cranes look for worms in the rubber trees just beyond the driveway, but during a brief period where the flower bed was a little fish pond, they would swoop down and eat all of Mummy's fish pets. I myself like to look out for a lack of wildlife (namely bugs, but also bats or God forbid, a random snake.) But I like to show the different living things to Elena. She learned, in just one meeting, that the house lizard is called puhley in Malayalam, and now whenever we hear his call she yells back, "Puhley, puhley! Va, VAAA!" (come, come!)
I showed her a gaggle of ants that were gathered around a lump of something or other on the veranda, and said, "Look Elena! These are ANTS. ANTS."
Very seriously she looked where I was pointing and repeated, "anch. Aaaaanch."
I continued. "The ants are eating something. Look at them! They're eating their lunch." Already on all fours towering over the ant feeding frenzy, she leans in super close to the little pile, ponders a second, and then says, "MMMMMmmmmmm!" with great gusto, as if they were sharing their treat with her. Then an octave higher: MMMMMMMMMMMMMM! Anch!!!
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Panthiruvelil Medical Shop
Saby, a day or two after we arrived in Kerala, went with his dad to get some allergy meds from the local pharmacy, which happens to be run by some distant family member and thus carries the family name. I ask my dear husband for, simply, some vitamins. "What kind?" he asks, to which I reply, "I dunno... women's? Would they have that here?" He refuses, saying he's already been made fun of by "that medical shop fellow" for how much he sweats, so there's just no way that he's going to go now and also ask (while still sweating) for a WOMEN'S vitamin.
With my basic requirements in hand, he heads off, returning some 40 minutes later with an old fashioned looking, dark brown glass bottle with a slightly sun-faded yellow label declaring "Devitamixotin" - or something like that. It looks like something you'd find in your great aunt's medicine cabinet. Or in an abandoned house.
Saby relates the story. "I asked for vitamins and he handed me this. 'Illa, I said, in Malayalam and then English, "do you have one that is not opened?" (with me noticing only now the broken metal seal on it's cap, like the old fashioned Faygo bottles). Saby continues, "That medical shop fellow takes the bottle, opens it, dumps all the vitamin capsules out on the counter and quickly counts them. "Aday, twen-ty." Scoops them back into the bottle and hands it back to me. Says, in Malayalam, "see... no need for new one. They're all there!"
With my basic requirements in hand, he heads off, returning some 40 minutes later with an old fashioned looking, dark brown glass bottle with a slightly sun-faded yellow label declaring "Devitamixotin" - or something like that. It looks like something you'd find in your great aunt's medicine cabinet. Or in an abandoned house.
Saby relates the story. "I asked for vitamins and he handed me this. 'Illa, I said, in Malayalam and then English, "do you have one that is not opened?" (with me noticing only now the broken metal seal on it's cap, like the old fashioned Faygo bottles). Saby continues, "That medical shop fellow takes the bottle, opens it, dumps all the vitamin capsules out on the counter and quickly counts them. "Aday, twen-ty." Scoops them back into the bottle and hands it back to me. Says, in Malayalam, "see... no need for new one. They're all there!"
Catching up, still...
Let's pretend it's not Feb 20th and our trip is almost finished. Let's pretend we're back in Washington DC, or perhaps somewhere up in the air between there and Dubai...
So now, we sit - in a slightly "shabby chic" (aka old) cabin 3x the width of our previous plane. Elena is snuggled in her still-fitting, rear-facing infant car seat between us, and we have probably a full 3 feet before we hit the next row of seats. It's incredible. I don't mind that it's well past it's heyday (as long as some faulty wiring doesn't result in one of those random gas tank explosions, arrggh!) because it seems like we're flying in our own living room.
But... there's snow. Lots of snow, sort of a hard, crappy wintery mix, and I can see the plane next to us with a pattern melted (de-iced?) into the snow accumulation on it's body that looks like the shoveled yard lines of a snowy football field. After a looooong trek through Dulles airport (long = up 6+ elevators, past the largest indoor escalator ever, through freakishly clean and vacant Matrix/sanitarium-esque hallways) we arrived at our gate that has all the charm and hygiene of a Mexican bus station. Saby - always the thinker - ponders whether we, with our salvaged business class status, can instead use the first class lounge. Hello, free cheese and crackers! Goodbye, Kabul! We walk into the illustrious "Red Lounge" though, as is our luck, to the announcement that the bar is closed. Argh. But we do have our COSI coffees and snag those fabled crackers, as well as a few pieces of snazzy cheese. I head over to put the Bubbloo into a new diaper and her PJs just in time to hear "the Red Lounge will be closing in three minutes." WELL! I figure we're already there in the loo - they can't very well pull us out of there, can they? So I strip Bubbloo down to nothing and stand her in th esink for a nice washing, thinking I'm very clever. And deviant. But really I'm a fool, because the towel is packed away in our checked luggage. Nonetheless, with a polished and paper-toweled dry Bubbloo we strut back out into Zacateca's waiting room. We stood there amongst the very varied crowd brushing the baby's teeth lotioning her up, etc.
Now... back on board the plane, I keep imagining we're moving, bit by bit, bump by bump because we've sat here for so long with no news from either Captain or crew, to the point where even the flight attendants are looking out windows and drawing random conclusions from what's happening outside. Some mention of freight. Sunnofa... we're like an hour late for our departure, sitting here at the gate! Which means we're arriving 15 minutes after our Dubai connection should be boarding. Uh ohhhhh. But now... we're off! Well, rather, we're off to be de-iced. Deicing is a scary concept. Snow falls because it is ice. Planes fly because they're NOT ice, or they can fly if they're DE-iced... which would mean that iced planes fall. Totally unrelated, I realize that the plane's layout is exactly that of Oceanic Flight 815 on Lost.
So now, we sit - in a slightly "shabby chic" (aka old) cabin 3x the width of our previous plane. Elena is snuggled in her still-fitting, rear-facing infant car seat between us, and we have probably a full 3 feet before we hit the next row of seats. It's incredible. I don't mind that it's well past it's heyday (as long as some faulty wiring doesn't result in one of those random gas tank explosions, arrggh!) because it seems like we're flying in our own living room.
But... there's snow. Lots of snow, sort of a hard, crappy wintery mix, and I can see the plane next to us with a pattern melted (de-iced?) into the snow accumulation on it's body that looks like the shoveled yard lines of a snowy football field. After a looooong trek through Dulles airport (long = up 6+ elevators, past the largest indoor escalator ever, through freakishly clean and vacant Matrix/sanitarium-esque hallways) we arrived at our gate that has all the charm and hygiene of a Mexican bus station. Saby - always the thinker - ponders whether we, with our salvaged business class status, can instead use the first class lounge. Hello, free cheese and crackers! Goodbye, Kabul! We walk into the illustrious "Red Lounge" though, as is our luck, to the announcement that the bar is closed. Argh. But we do have our COSI coffees and snag those fabled crackers, as well as a few pieces of snazzy cheese. I head over to put the Bubbloo into a new diaper and her PJs just in time to hear "the Red Lounge will be closing in three minutes." WELL! I figure we're already there in the loo - they can't very well pull us out of there, can they? So I strip Bubbloo down to nothing and stand her in th esink for a nice washing, thinking I'm very clever. And deviant. But really I'm a fool, because the towel is packed away in our checked luggage. Nonetheless, with a polished and paper-toweled dry Bubbloo we strut back out into Zacateca's waiting room. We stood there amongst the very varied crowd brushing the baby's teeth lotioning her up, etc.
Now... back on board the plane, I keep imagining we're moving, bit by bit, bump by bump because we've sat here for so long with no news from either Captain or crew, to the point where even the flight attendants are looking out windows and drawing random conclusions from what's happening outside. Some mention of freight. Sunnofa... we're like an hour late for our departure, sitting here at the gate! Which means we're arriving 15 minutes after our Dubai connection should be boarding. Uh ohhhhh. But now... we're off! Well, rather, we're off to be de-iced. Deicing is a scary concept. Snow falls because it is ice. Planes fly because they're NOT ice, or they can fly if they're DE-iced... which would mean that iced planes fall. Totally unrelated, I realize that the plane's layout is exactly that of Oceanic Flight 815 on Lost.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
as written on the plane...
Lots to tell but no creativity, and a promise to myself that I'd actually handwrite things in a journal, so here's something dating back from the beginning of the (so far alternately interesting, exhausting, fabulous and aggravating) journey.
Little bubbloo's snoozing, Saby's reaching for the headphones, and we're just waiting for some additional cargo to be loaded (per the pilot's announcement) - AND IT'S OFF TO DUBAI! Looking around at our surroundings makes me want to WEEP with joyful bliss. After much, much MUCH back and forth, we were finally able to use upgrades gifted to use from a friend of Saby's. I feel like I'm sitting in my living room - especially after the litle tin can we arrived in from Dayton. I have a very strong inclination to tell Saby that we should just never buy a house and slum it domestically for the rest of our adult lives so that we can take business class everytime we fly. We've had a fun evening. Departing the house was slightly stressful, with a few hiccups but overall SUCCESS! Then, with our eyes glowing with hope (not the Obama kind), we arrive at the Biz class check in counter cluching our printed itinerary and a printout of Kiran Kumar G Bangalore's upgrade certificates. Here's the back story - we had a mean United call center lady mark our account with the dismal message of "PSGR Very Clearly NOTIFIED UPGRD IN ERRROR" Oh hell. But this was after a very NICE United call center lady told me in the sweetest voice... "Oh ma'am, as of yesterday (me: "no SHIT, you're kidding. YESTERDAY?!?") Yes Ma'am as of Jan 14th all of United's classes of service are upgradable." So hopes were raised, dashed, raised again, and then fast forward to us with a trolley fill of luggage stacked as high as my head being told that "you need to call your friend and get him to call United Reservations because his upgrades have put a hold on your account, they're coming up as expired, and we cannot even check you in in economy until this is straightened out. You will miss your flight." OOOOOH SHIT!!! Saby finds he doesn't have this KKGB's phone number in his new phone and is furiously facebooking and calling anyone who might, because without a little assistance we can't even leave Dayton! So I leave the scene of the potential crime (should Saby go apesh*t and ballistic on someone, he's on his own). I strap my trusty child into her pink puppy "buddy" harness (isn't anything slightly unpleasant marketed as a "buddy"?) and take her for a walk like she's a jumpy german shorthair. Ya! We run. Befriend the TSA staff. The USO lady. A gaggle of Girl Scouts (mmmm, cookies). Every single patron of the Boston Stoker coffee shop that's been quite upgraded since our last airport visit. Back to the desk. Chat with the agent about her 13 month old with RSV and his inability to get anything beyond a ragged, chest sucking breath into his sicky lungs, poor kid. Saby is beginning to breathe in a similar manner. I call my sis, good Catholic that she is, and ask her to pray for us (also wanting to tell somebody the "gossip" of our dilemma). Who to pray to? St. Christopher and St. Jude. St. Jude because I'm fully aware of the website stating that class T fares in regions 2 and others are indeed non-upgradable using systemwide upgrades. Oh, how I knew it was all a lost cause, slave that I am to corporate regulations) But as I go to change a diaper and return, the universe shifts.
WE'RE OFF.
I thank the girls who had been fighting our cause with us and for us, getting one's name: Santina. She's got a birthday coming up, on February 29th... she said she's going to be 5 years old :-) Somewhere between security (where we lingered extra long since Mr. George forgot to put his toiletries in plastic bags, naughty boy! His deodorant was x-rayed THRICE) and the gate, Saby whispers to me very quietly... almost conspiratorily, "we got it." What? Business class. To Dubai.
Oh man, my sis is good at praying :-)
Little bubbloo's snoozing, Saby's reaching for the headphones, and we're just waiting for some additional cargo to be loaded (per the pilot's announcement) - AND IT'S OFF TO DUBAI! Looking around at our surroundings makes me want to WEEP with joyful bliss. After much, much MUCH back and forth, we were finally able to use upgrades gifted to use from a friend of Saby's. I feel like I'm sitting in my living room - especially after the litle tin can we arrived in from Dayton. I have a very strong inclination to tell Saby that we should just never buy a house and slum it domestically for the rest of our adult lives so that we can take business class everytime we fly. We've had a fun evening. Departing the house was slightly stressful, with a few hiccups but overall SUCCESS! Then, with our eyes glowing with hope (not the Obama kind), we arrive at the Biz class check in counter cluching our printed itinerary and a printout of Kiran Kumar G Bangalore's upgrade certificates. Here's the back story - we had a mean United call center lady mark our account with the dismal message of "PSGR Very Clearly NOTIFIED UPGRD IN ERRROR" Oh hell. But this was after a very NICE United call center lady told me in the sweetest voice... "Oh ma'am, as of yesterday (me: "no SHIT, you're kidding. YESTERDAY?!?") Yes Ma'am as of Jan 14th all of United's classes of service are upgradable." So hopes were raised, dashed, raised again, and then fast forward to us with a trolley fill of luggage stacked as high as my head being told that "you need to call your friend and get him to call United Reservations because his upgrades have put a hold on your account, they're coming up as expired, and we cannot even check you in in economy until this is straightened out. You will miss your flight." OOOOOH SHIT!!! Saby finds he doesn't have this KKGB's phone number in his new phone and is furiously facebooking and calling anyone who might, because without a little assistance we can't even leave Dayton! So I leave the scene of the potential crime (should Saby go apesh*t and ballistic on someone, he's on his own). I strap my trusty child into her pink puppy "buddy" harness (isn't anything slightly unpleasant marketed as a "buddy"?) and take her for a walk like she's a jumpy german shorthair. Ya! We run. Befriend the TSA staff. The USO lady. A gaggle of Girl Scouts (mmmm, cookies). Every single patron of the Boston Stoker coffee shop that's been quite upgraded since our last airport visit. Back to the desk. Chat with the agent about her 13 month old with RSV and his inability to get anything beyond a ragged, chest sucking breath into his sicky lungs, poor kid. Saby is beginning to breathe in a similar manner. I call my sis, good Catholic that she is, and ask her to pray for us (also wanting to tell somebody the "gossip" of our dilemma). Who to pray to? St. Christopher and St. Jude. St. Jude because I'm fully aware of the website stating that class T fares in regions 2 and others are indeed non-upgradable using systemwide upgrades. Oh, how I knew it was all a lost cause, slave that I am to corporate regulations) But as I go to change a diaper and return, the universe shifts.
WE'RE OFF.
I thank the girls who had been fighting our cause with us and for us, getting one's name: Santina. She's got a birthday coming up, on February 29th... she said she's going to be 5 years old :-) Somewhere between security (where we lingered extra long since Mr. George forgot to put his toiletries in plastic bags, naughty boy! His deodorant was x-rayed THRICE) and the gate, Saby whispers to me very quietly... almost conspiratorily, "we got it." What? Business class. To Dubai.
Oh man, my sis is good at praying :-)
Monday, January 25, 2010
Caroline in Kerala ver. 2.0
We depart for our second India trip on February 2nd. I suppose when you only go somewhere ever 3 years or so, every trip can be monumental to some degree. While the last trip was MY first trip and Saby's return after many years, this trip will be our debut as a family and Elena's first visit to "God's Own Country."
Also monumental is that this time around, we will be landing in Bangalore for the long-awaited wedding of our dear buddy, Jesse Benny! He's found a lovely gal aptly named "Blanche" (which is what Jesspill did at the thought of meeting more prospective brides, perhaps?) and they will be married at the Holy Ghost Church in Richard's Town, Bangalore the afternoon of February 6th. Just in time for Valentines day, I say!
Meanwhile preparations here at home involve a complicated scheme of trying to pack in an organized manner, mostly at a height of about 3 feet so that Elena cannot reach up and undo my handwork. We had to get a folding table from a friend (thanks Rachel!) to help this process along. Much stress has been placed on things like figuring out how to get a car seat to India, as well as unescapable sleeping arrangements. I've got lists floating all over the house: things to buy, things bought, things packed, things to avoid, shots to get, food to pack, gifts to buy... so far I think we're at least 50% packed and about 40% mentally prepared... THIS will be an interesting week at the George house.
Stay tuned!
Friday, February 9, 2007
Me and the Kerala babies...
After my cousin Babi's wedding on my 2nd to last day in India, we were sitting on the patio outside the Parish Hall waiting for the reception to begin. In the small space between the church and hall was snuggled a English-Malayalam medium nursery school. I had noticed kids there, and asked Mummy if I could go to visit... but she warned me that if I left her side I'd get lost in the crowd of 1500 at the reception, and most importantly, not get a place to sit for lunch. It was a risk I happily accepted, and I headed down the yard to the school's window.
A few children noticed and came to the window of their classroom, where they appeared to be just coming back from lunch. I was staying hello and shaking hands though the window while they called "Aunty, Aunty!!" at me; but one saucy fellow flashed a million dollar grin and yelled, "Hi Chechi!" (big sister)
A few spilled out onto the porch... and the closer I got, the more came.
Suddenly I was surrounded. A teacher and a sister (nun) came out to supervise. Communication was minimal but not really necessary, as I was ready to pack them all into my suitcases after they performed a heartbreakingly sweet rendition of "Are You Sleeping", complete with hand motions. I clicked a few photos, and then thought it would be nice to be in a photo with them myself. Passing the camera off to the sister and seeming school head on the porch, I asked if they could "snap a photo" and posed, not realizing that all the kiddies were still staring and chattering away in my direction. How to get them to face the camera? After a few futile attempts at pointing forward and "photo, photo!" from me, they still didn't get the concept. Realizing they're just little kids and that I had the Malayalam vocabulary of an even smaller one, I had an idea on how we'd communicate. Using one of the very very very VERY few Malayalam words I knew, I threw my hand up in the air and triumphantly shouted, "kai!" The sister smiled with understanding, and one by one, I saw little hands fly into the air. "Kai in the sky!" I shouted again, making a game of it, and then waved...
Then thought I'd try showing the kids their photos on the digicam's display screen... but suddenly 35 little children were hopping up and down shouting "endhu, Aunty, endhu?" (what is it?) I just couldn't keep up :-)
Perhaps my presence was missed at the reception by the photography crew (doubtful as guest number 143 of 1500); more likely, someone came out to smoke and noticed me surrounded by children just a few yard away... but either way, this shot was caught from the steps of the Parish Hall.
A few children noticed and came to the window of their classroom, where they appeared to be just coming back from lunch. I was staying hello and shaking hands though the window while they called "Aunty, Aunty!!" at me; but one saucy fellow flashed a million dollar grin and yelled, "Hi Chechi!" (big sister)
A few spilled out onto the porch... and the closer I got, the more came.
Suddenly I was surrounded. A teacher and a sister (nun) came out to supervise. Communication was minimal but not really necessary, as I was ready to pack them all into my suitcases after they performed a heartbreakingly sweet rendition of "Are You Sleeping", complete with hand motions. I clicked a few photos, and then thought it would be nice to be in a photo with them myself. Passing the camera off to the sister and seeming school head on the porch, I asked if they could "snap a photo" and posed, not realizing that all the kiddies were still staring and chattering away in my direction. How to get them to face the camera? After a few futile attempts at pointing forward and "photo, photo!" from me, they still didn't get the concept. Realizing they're just little kids and that I had the Malayalam vocabulary of an even smaller one, I had an idea on how we'd communicate. Using one of the very very very VERY few Malayalam words I knew, I threw my hand up in the air and triumphantly shouted, "kai!" The sister smiled with understanding, and one by one, I saw little hands fly into the air. "Kai in the sky!" I shouted again, making a game of it, and then waved...
Then thought I'd try showing the kids their photos on the digicam's display screen... but suddenly 35 little children were hopping up and down shouting "endhu, Aunty, endhu?" (what is it?) I just couldn't keep up :-)
Perhaps my presence was missed at the reception by the photography crew (doubtful as guest number 143 of 1500); more likely, someone came out to smoke and noticed me surrounded by children just a few yard away... but either way, this shot was caught from the steps of the Parish Hall.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Home!
What a lackluster blogging performance. After being denied by the DSL folks in Ponkunnam for a home line, and fewer trips to the internet cafe than I have fingers, my intentions to write the most interesting and intensive Indian travelogue have amounted to jack.
So, without further ado, I'm home.
Reached Wednesday at 11:45pm in the familiar Frontier Airlines baggage carousel. Had an uneventful ride ALL the way home, meaning even from the moment of pulling out of the driveway in Kerala - and if you haven't been able to tell from previous posts, few drives in Kerala are uneventful. But apparently they saved the best for last, and we wound our way back down out of the golden hills and rubber estates of Kottayam district towards the airport without incident. Shed a few tears, but had to collect myself in order to take a photo of the huge "AMALA BHARAT GAS - Cook Food Serve Love" sign that is painted on a building just around our corner of the KK road. (good friends of ours have a shweetie baby named Amala)
Mummy fell asleep on the drive, and I stared out the window trying to recognize anything from the first drive back from the airport that had brought me home back in November. We were retracing that route, and it was a road that we never had been down since I had come there. I remembered it seeming very small coming in... but now it was just another road, same size as all the others I had come to know.
I started taking pictures out the window with the flash, but stopped when the driver flipped his side mirror out at the exact angle to give me a steely death stare.
Reached Cochin Airport (which is actually in another city, Amalagam or something like that... Amalgany? Angary? There's an A and a Y in there somewhere) and packed my two 52 lb bags onto a trolley. Knowing I had the potential to stand there and bawl for hours if given the opportunity, Mummy and Daddy both bravely said "okay! safe trip!" and we hugged, I kissed them both, said I'd see them in a year, and headed tearfully off to run though the airports hoops that would eventually get me on board a plane headed towards the U.S.
One neat-o thing about the airport... it's always cool to see "white" people again :-) Usually you're bound to see a few... more often than not hip Europeans, Brits, or Californians that seem to be on family vacation. There will be a chic granny type in capris, with hair that she's proudly let go gray and reading glasses on a chain, and following her will be a 12 year old who is probably thrilled to get back to cheeseburgers, but sad to go back to having to wear his seatbelt in his home country. There'll be a balding dad who looks lost and always a younger, more sunburned version of granny as his wife.
On my three occasions at the airport, none of my honky brethren have ever made eye contact with me. Bloody fellows ;-)
Whereas, when we dropped Saby off to the airport, I had the ultimate pleasure of properly earning OMS (open mouth stares) as opposed to just getting them for being a firenge (foreigner). Our little farewell committee was myself, cousin Vinod and his "awezzum" wife Cynthia. Saby was stressed about clearing security in proper time for his flight, and he was getting noticeably anxious as we stood there now waiting for Anil, the driver, to return with some ibuprofen... as Vinod, before leaving the house, had accidentally shut the end of Saby's ring finger in the hatch of the SUV.
(When the hatch slammed shut and Saby screamed, I had thought he was joking... but poor Vinod said the image of his finger and the door coming down on it was stuck in his head)
So the time comes to go, and he gives us all a hug and tries to walk off. Lame! I scampered after him, grabbed his hand and hammed my best kissy-kissy face saying, "Come on... make a scene with me." He shoo'ed me away like I was a street kid asking for rupees. So I grabbed him and pulled him down for a wet one... which I think the crowd of Indians behind us appreciated more than he did. Their giggles and smiles (and OMS) lasted until long after he had disappeared into the airport.
Saby flew back Cochin to Dubai (United Arab Emirates), had a 13 hour stop and hotel room in Dubai, and then went London Gatwick directly back to Cincinnatti. He says Dubai is amazing, and has sung the praises of Air Emirates endlessly.
My flight route was Cochin to Singapore, a brief 2 hours there and then off to Japan for fuel and food to get us across the Pacific to Los Angeles. From there I would be flying domestically on Frontier (our favorite, hubbed in Denver - they have a super frequent flyer program!!) to Denver and finally Detroit.
I was blessed with a seat in the 5th row on my first leg, only to find it wouldn't recline because the exit row was behind us. The two computer engineers on either side of me were headed back to their jobs in Singapore after their first year of work abroad, and were intent on getting loaded with the excuse that it would "help sleep." I worried what damage two lightweights from Calicut could do on a 4 hour flight, but all ended well, especially after our conversation:
Computer Engineer: Did you enjoy India?
Me: Oh yes, Kerala is beautiful.
CE: For how long you are here?
Me: Forty days.
CE: (dismissively) Oh, four days.
Me: No, four-teeeee.
CE: (more impressed) Ahh, fourteen!
Me: NO. Forty. Four-zero. Forty.
CE:(looking shocked) Oh my God, what for?!?
Then I got to drop the "visiting my in-laws and family" which is my favorite secret code for "I'm married, and what's more I'm married to a Mallu and he's much bigger than you, so don't hit on me or he'll kick your scrawny programmin' ass."
Singapore passed by without much fanfare, although I did buy 27 Sing dollars worth of Tiger Balm and Brit export Thera-Flu in a pharmacy to battle the cold I felt coming on, plus Melatonin to counter jet lag. Since leaving India my watch had been set to Eastern Time and I was determined to only sleep at appropriate times. And sleep I did... slept through takeoff from Singapore and woke up only for food. Mmmmm, food.
My flight was apparently the birth control flight. I was packed into the back section with what seemed like hundreds of spoiled Indian babies and belligerent, equally spoiled ABCD adolescents. (ABCD being the less than complimentary anagram "American Born Confused Desi", with Desi meaning Indian) The babies cried, the children whined and yelled and fought, and the adolescents all told their parents to "shut UP!" straight through our stop in Japan and back over the big blue ocean. I disembarked in LAX vowing to never have children.
In LAX I had already been flying some 27 hours and was totally confused as to where I was... and almost missed my flight while I sat in a Burger King talking to my hubby on the phone. (I wanted to smell fast food, but wasn't brave enough to eat any of it yet).
In the mile-high city I bought some peanut M&Ms and a new Sudoku book, mostly because I needed an excuse to get up and move far far away from the girl telling whoever was on the other end of her cell phone that "yeah, he stayed over last night and in the morning, he was like telling me, 'I have strep.' So now, like, I'm all paranoid, and my throat feels all like, junky and stuff..." AHHHHHHHHH!
Strep free I reach Detroit. Cold as hell, it is... get picked up by Windo and deposited in the humble and empty abode of Rams and Lalee, who are currently still in India, and that's where I've been ever since. The last human being I saw in person was Windo around 1:15 a.m. on Thursday morning - since then, I feel like I'm in some sort of decompression chamber or quarantine. But it's been nice... rather than being flung back into the good ol' American hustle and bustle, I've been sleeping lots, listening to Malayalam film songs on my iPod shuffle, doing sudoku, and prowling around their house hunting for things to eat. (Rams and Lalee, let me replace the Maggi noodles, parathas, and oh-so-tasty crackers on top of the fridge before you return)
Today, actually in about an hour, Saby should be back from Dayton, and we'll be having lunch with Liz and Matt and then Sunday is our big moving day down to Dayton. Technically, we still don't have a place to move into, but that should be settled by 9:30 am on Monday morning.
I'll be writing more in retrospect as I get time... but to anybody who actually has been reading this stuff up til now, THANKS.
See you on da flip side...
So, without further ado, I'm home.
Reached Wednesday at 11:45pm in the familiar Frontier Airlines baggage carousel. Had an uneventful ride ALL the way home, meaning even from the moment of pulling out of the driveway in Kerala - and if you haven't been able to tell from previous posts, few drives in Kerala are uneventful. But apparently they saved the best for last, and we wound our way back down out of the golden hills and rubber estates of Kottayam district towards the airport without incident. Shed a few tears, but had to collect myself in order to take a photo of the huge "AMALA BHARAT GAS - Cook Food Serve Love" sign that is painted on a building just around our corner of the KK road. (good friends of ours have a shweetie baby named Amala)
Mummy fell asleep on the drive, and I stared out the window trying to recognize anything from the first drive back from the airport that had brought me home back in November. We were retracing that route, and it was a road that we never had been down since I had come there. I remembered it seeming very small coming in... but now it was just another road, same size as all the others I had come to know.
I started taking pictures out the window with the flash, but stopped when the driver flipped his side mirror out at the exact angle to give me a steely death stare.
Reached Cochin Airport (which is actually in another city, Amalagam or something like that... Amalgany? Angary? There's an A and a Y in there somewhere) and packed my two 52 lb bags onto a trolley. Knowing I had the potential to stand there and bawl for hours if given the opportunity, Mummy and Daddy both bravely said "okay! safe trip!" and we hugged, I kissed them both, said I'd see them in a year, and headed tearfully off to run though the airports hoops that would eventually get me on board a plane headed towards the U.S.
One neat-o thing about the airport... it's always cool to see "white" people again :-) Usually you're bound to see a few... more often than not hip Europeans, Brits, or Californians that seem to be on family vacation. There will be a chic granny type in capris, with hair that she's proudly let go gray and reading glasses on a chain, and following her will be a 12 year old who is probably thrilled to get back to cheeseburgers, but sad to go back to having to wear his seatbelt in his home country. There'll be a balding dad who looks lost and always a younger, more sunburned version of granny as his wife.
On my three occasions at the airport, none of my honky brethren have ever made eye contact with me. Bloody fellows ;-)
Whereas, when we dropped Saby off to the airport, I had the ultimate pleasure of properly earning OMS (open mouth stares) as opposed to just getting them for being a firenge (foreigner). Our little farewell committee was myself, cousin Vinod and his "awezzum" wife Cynthia. Saby was stressed about clearing security in proper time for his flight, and he was getting noticeably anxious as we stood there now waiting for Anil, the driver, to return with some ibuprofen... as Vinod, before leaving the house, had accidentally shut the end of Saby's ring finger in the hatch of the SUV.
(When the hatch slammed shut and Saby screamed, I had thought he was joking... but poor Vinod said the image of his finger and the door coming down on it was stuck in his head)
So the time comes to go, and he gives us all a hug and tries to walk off. Lame! I scampered after him, grabbed his hand and hammed my best kissy-kissy face saying, "Come on... make a scene with me." He shoo'ed me away like I was a street kid asking for rupees. So I grabbed him and pulled him down for a wet one... which I think the crowd of Indians behind us appreciated more than he did. Their giggles and smiles (and OMS) lasted until long after he had disappeared into the airport.
Saby flew back Cochin to Dubai (United Arab Emirates), had a 13 hour stop and hotel room in Dubai, and then went London Gatwick directly back to Cincinnatti. He says Dubai is amazing, and has sung the praises of Air Emirates endlessly.
My flight route was Cochin to Singapore, a brief 2 hours there and then off to Japan for fuel and food to get us across the Pacific to Los Angeles. From there I would be flying domestically on Frontier (our favorite, hubbed in Denver - they have a super frequent flyer program!!) to Denver and finally Detroit.
I was blessed with a seat in the 5th row on my first leg, only to find it wouldn't recline because the exit row was behind us. The two computer engineers on either side of me were headed back to their jobs in Singapore after their first year of work abroad, and were intent on getting loaded with the excuse that it would "help sleep." I worried what damage two lightweights from Calicut could do on a 4 hour flight, but all ended well, especially after our conversation:
Computer Engineer: Did you enjoy India?
Me: Oh yes, Kerala is beautiful.
CE: For how long you are here?
Me: Forty days.
CE: (dismissively) Oh, four days.
Me: No, four-teeeee.
CE: (more impressed) Ahh, fourteen!
Me: NO. Forty. Four-zero. Forty.
CE:(looking shocked) Oh my God, what for?!?
Then I got to drop the "visiting my in-laws and family" which is my favorite secret code for "I'm married, and what's more I'm married to a Mallu and he's much bigger than you, so don't hit on me or he'll kick your scrawny programmin' ass."
Singapore passed by without much fanfare, although I did buy 27 Sing dollars worth of Tiger Balm and Brit export Thera-Flu in a pharmacy to battle the cold I felt coming on, plus Melatonin to counter jet lag. Since leaving India my watch had been set to Eastern Time and I was determined to only sleep at appropriate times. And sleep I did... slept through takeoff from Singapore and woke up only for food. Mmmmm, food.
My flight was apparently the birth control flight. I was packed into the back section with what seemed like hundreds of spoiled Indian babies and belligerent, equally spoiled ABCD adolescents. (ABCD being the less than complimentary anagram "American Born Confused Desi", with Desi meaning Indian) The babies cried, the children whined and yelled and fought, and the adolescents all told their parents to "shut UP!" straight through our stop in Japan and back over the big blue ocean. I disembarked in LAX vowing to never have children.
In LAX I had already been flying some 27 hours and was totally confused as to where I was... and almost missed my flight while I sat in a Burger King talking to my hubby on the phone. (I wanted to smell fast food, but wasn't brave enough to eat any of it yet).
In the mile-high city I bought some peanut M&Ms and a new Sudoku book, mostly because I needed an excuse to get up and move far far away from the girl telling whoever was on the other end of her cell phone that "yeah, he stayed over last night and in the morning, he was like telling me, 'I have strep.' So now, like, I'm all paranoid, and my throat feels all like, junky and stuff..." AHHHHHHHHH!
Strep free I reach Detroit. Cold as hell, it is... get picked up by Windo and deposited in the humble and empty abode of Rams and Lalee, who are currently still in India, and that's where I've been ever since. The last human being I saw in person was Windo around 1:15 a.m. on Thursday morning - since then, I feel like I'm in some sort of decompression chamber or quarantine. But it's been nice... rather than being flung back into the good ol' American hustle and bustle, I've been sleeping lots, listening to Malayalam film songs on my iPod shuffle, doing sudoku, and prowling around their house hunting for things to eat. (Rams and Lalee, let me replace the Maggi noodles, parathas, and oh-so-tasty crackers on top of the fridge before you return)
Today, actually in about an hour, Saby should be back from Dayton, and we'll be having lunch with Liz and Matt and then Sunday is our big moving day down to Dayton. Technically, we still don't have a place to move into, but that should be settled by 9:30 am on Monday morning.
I'll be writing more in retrospect as I get time... but to anybody who actually has been reading this stuff up til now, THANKS.
See you on da flip side...
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