Monday, April 6, 2009
Springtime at Stillpond
Here are some typical scenes in the springtime at my parent's house.
Dad planting his garden:
New addition Yaara basking in the sunlight:
Mom, Yaara, and Zeus hanging out on the porch:
Mom & Zeus lounging on the swing:
Green grass, a young garden, and a daffodil field in full bloom:
Yaara saying hello to the camera:
Dad planting his garden:
New addition Yaara basking in the sunlight:
Mom, Yaara, and Zeus hanging out on the porch:
Mom & Zeus lounging on the swing:
Green grass, a young garden, and a daffodil field in full bloom:
Yaara saying hello to the camera:
Yaara
Two days after returning to the States, I fulfilled my wish for the year of getting a dog. I headed down to the Kent County Humane Society and took home this timid shepherd/lab mix. He had come into the shelter a few days previously from a neglect situation. He's about 10 months old, but had spent his whole life chained up and had no idea about anything in the world. So, he spent the first day learning what a leash was, how to go up and down stairs, and how to get into and out of a car. Basically, he's a totally ignorant puppy in the body of a nearly full-grown dog. I named him Yaara, which means "loyal friend" in Hindi; I'm sure he will live up to his name.
He was pretty timid at first, but super sweet and friendly, so I decided that my first order of business was to build his confidence in the world and teach him how to play, run, and enjoy life. Luckily, my parents 5 year old German Shepherd was a good teacher in how to be a guard dog. When my sister's 2 year old Portie came to visit, Yaara chased her away! I think he just wanted to play with her, but didn't know how to ask, since the only dog he's ever played with is the aforementioned very dominant Shepherd. After the interaction below, all three dogs became fast friends and rolled around in the backyard together for about an hour.
He was pretty timid at first, but super sweet and friendly, so I decided that my first order of business was to build his confidence in the world and teach him how to play, run, and enjoy life. Luckily, my parents 5 year old German Shepherd was a good teacher in how to be a guard dog. When my sister's 2 year old Portie came to visit, Yaara chased her away! I think he just wanted to play with her, but didn't know how to ask, since the only dog he's ever played with is the aforementioned very dominant Shepherd. After the interaction below, all three dogs became fast friends and rolled around in the backyard together for about an hour.Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Back in the USA!
Umes will continue his guest post at some point, but in the meantime, a notice that the content of this blog is about to change dramatically. I have returned to the U.S. as a (half) married woman and now must wait for my hubby while his visa gets approved. To help ease his transition, I will be posting little snippets of my life back here in America. I'll write about the mundane details of my daily life, post lots of photos of our new dog (yet to be acquired) and as I notice the little differences between the U.S. and India I'll post them. Hopefully Umes will feel like he already knows his new home before he even gets here. Now, off to get paperwork completed for that fiance visa...
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Umes speaks! (also known as "the husband")
Do I hear ya babbling about cultural differences? Yes. I faced it. In the bathroom. In the first month of living with a white girl. Three months after we first met. She wanted paper and I knew my beloved little brown mug was in danger of being obsolete. So obsolete that she proposed we use it to collect the water draining out of the AC duct. That very instant I knew it. This was going to be decided the good old-fashioned way. We had declared war.
She won. I now use paper with glee. Crying out for more. Together as a couple, we run through reams and reams of it. But that's not the story you paid for. So, I will stop and tell you my story. An eye-witness account of 'what the hell happened to M in India'.
She came. That much you know. Carrying heavy baggages from the past and loads of expectations and she was caught. By the Customs. Even though her first brush with India didn't go so well (a dark swarthy lecherous Customs official brushed his hands against her), she was determined to put it behind her (the brush and NOT THE HANDS!) and seek out her Indian adventures.
So, keeping with her theme of making friends and enjoying her youth, M joined TEA. Do I hear applause? And well deserved too. Lovely lovely club it was. People in their 60's waltzing to slow music or espousing on diabetes. Some even talked of their bowel movements but what's a good club without diseases strewn around? It was a heartening sight too. On the weekly meetings. Such passion. Such gusto. And all that from wheelchairs. It made a man stand back and take notice.
But's thats not how we met. Before M met me, she had written down the 10 most important things she wanted in her man. Always a good idea if you actually want to meet the '10-qualities-guy' of your diary. Even though my mind wanders to what Dick Cheney's wife wrote before she 'happened' to run into Dickie, I can safely say that Adonis and Greek God weren't part of Martha's little note to herself. My favorite theory is that perhaps God couldn't really read her handwriting and made me appear or it might be blamed on the fact that Martha was a little drunk on bad Indian wine, but the fact remains that both of us were on an inevitable collision course. And we had no idea.
It all started with a little case of gas. M had it. So, she started slinking away to the rear end of the TEA party. But little did she know that someone right there was already at it. Eye met and M made friends with Aunt C, my sole emotional support in Hyderabad.
(to be concluded)
She won. I now use paper with glee. Crying out for more. Together as a couple, we run through reams and reams of it. But that's not the story you paid for. So, I will stop and tell you my story. An eye-witness account of 'what the hell happened to M in India'.
She came. That much you know. Carrying heavy baggages from the past and loads of expectations and she was caught. By the Customs. Even though her first brush with India didn't go so well (a dark swarthy lecherous Customs official brushed his hands against her), she was determined to put it behind her (the brush and NOT THE HANDS!) and seek out her Indian adventures.
So, keeping with her theme of making friends and enjoying her youth, M joined TEA. Do I hear applause? And well deserved too. Lovely lovely club it was. People in their 60's waltzing to slow music or espousing on diabetes. Some even talked of their bowel movements but what's a good club without diseases strewn around? It was a heartening sight too. On the weekly meetings. Such passion. Such gusto. And all that from wheelchairs. It made a man stand back and take notice.
But's thats not how we met. Before M met me, she had written down the 10 most important things she wanted in her man. Always a good idea if you actually want to meet the '10-qualities-guy' of your diary. Even though my mind wanders to what Dick Cheney's wife wrote before she 'happened' to run into Dickie, I can safely say that Adonis and Greek God weren't part of Martha's little note to herself. My favorite theory is that perhaps God couldn't really read her handwriting and made me appear or it might be blamed on the fact that Martha was a little drunk on bad Indian wine, but the fact remains that both of us were on an inevitable collision course. And we had no idea.
It all started with a little case of gas. M had it. So, she started slinking away to the rear end of the TEA party. But little did she know that someone right there was already at it. Eye met and M made friends with Aunt C, my sole emotional support in Hyderabad.
(to be concluded)
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Oh Alanis
I've been surprisingly healthy during my stay here in India. I've certainly had my share of pollution headaches and head colds, but I'd never suffered from the serious stomach upset for which India is famous. My friends joked that I had a stomach of steel... I could travel anywhere and I'd never gotten food poisoning. In fact, the one time I've ever thrown up in India was when I was swallowing a Cipro for a minor infection and it hit my gag reflex inducing me to vomit. Nope, not food poisoning, and no, I didn't spend hours worshipping the porcelain goddess. Just a simple gag reflex.
Well, now that I've lived in India for a full year, eaten street food, drank tap water, and had full meals costing less than $0.50, I got sick. I got an intestinal infection after blowing $50 on cocktails and appetizers at the one upscale restaurant in the city that caters to foreigners. I'd eaten there before with no problem and had even hosted a party there for over 100 people. It was one of the "safe" restaurants to eat at in the city and I wasn't going to take any chances the night before my wedding. Oh how wrong I was. After 5 days of diarrhea, Umes insisted on taking me to the hospital where I was diagnosed with "normal intestinal infection from eating outside food" and given three different prescriptions to clear it up. I'm now on a restricted diet of yoghurt and parathas as my stomache recovers.
Vomiting from Cipro.
Stomach infection from food at the "expat restaurant."
Isn't it ironic. Dontcha think?
Well, now that I've lived in India for a full year, eaten street food, drank tap water, and had full meals costing less than $0.50, I got sick. I got an intestinal infection after blowing $50 on cocktails and appetizers at the one upscale restaurant in the city that caters to foreigners. I'd eaten there before with no problem and had even hosted a party there for over 100 people. It was one of the "safe" restaurants to eat at in the city and I wasn't going to take any chances the night before my wedding. Oh how wrong I was. After 5 days of diarrhea, Umes insisted on taking me to the hospital where I was diagnosed with "normal intestinal infection from eating outside food" and given three different prescriptions to clear it up. I'm now on a restricted diet of yoghurt and parathas as my stomache recovers.
Vomiting from Cipro.
Stomach infection from food at the "expat restaurant."
Isn't it ironic. Dontcha think?
You Got Married!?!? Oh, that's nice.
As a typical American woman, when my boyfriend of ten months proposed we get married within the next few weeks, my reaction was "whoa, no way, this is way too soon." To me, the natural progression of a relationship was dating for a year or more, engagement for a year or more, and finally getting married. However, this typical American woman moved to India and fell in love with an Indian. Here, dating is unheard of, engagement is a brief period of a few weeks, and marriage means you're actually in a commited relationship. So, we compromised our cultures and had a Hindu wedding a few days later to be followed by an American wedding in a few years. While I knew our personal views on marriage were strongly influenced by culture, I didn't realize how much so until we started to tell others of the news.
My American friends' reactions came as no surprise to me. "Whoa, this is a big decision, are you sure you're ready for this?" "Isn't this a bit fast." And of course the undertone of "Have you gone off your rocker." I understood these reactions, they're what mine would've been. Had I not been the one discussing and debating the decision for the previous few weeks, I would've been equally shocked and probably quite judgmental. As a result, I've been hesitant to tell people about the wedding and am still having a hard time with the words "married" and "husband." Since this is the first of our weddings, I kinda feel like we're half-married; we're somewhere beyond engagement but until I have my traditional American ceremony, I just won't be able to feel like I'm really truly married.
In theory, I understood Umes's push for us to have a Hindu wedding. I know that anything besides marriage isn't really respected here and that it was important to him to have our commitment to each other respected as real and true by his community. However, I still thought people would be a bit shocked since it happened after only 10 months and some of my work friends didn't even know I was dating anyone. Oh how wrong I was. The other day he came to my office with me and I introduced him as my husband. Nobody batted an eye. They simply said "oh, that's nice" and "nice to meet you." There was no surprise at us being married and people who did know of us dating seemed genuinely relieved that we had (finally) gotten married. Here, marriage is just a fact a life. It's what you do. It's not a "big decision" the way it is in the U.S. When you get to a certain age you get married. You commit to someone (who you may or may not know) and build a life as a family.
The dichotomy of reactions and the different perspectives they represent was truly eye opening. I don't think anything in my year of living here could've prepared me for the realization of the vast cultural divide between India and the U.S.
My American friends' reactions came as no surprise to me. "Whoa, this is a big decision, are you sure you're ready for this?" "Isn't this a bit fast." And of course the undertone of "Have you gone off your rocker." I understood these reactions, they're what mine would've been. Had I not been the one discussing and debating the decision for the previous few weeks, I would've been equally shocked and probably quite judgmental. As a result, I've been hesitant to tell people about the wedding and am still having a hard time with the words "married" and "husband." Since this is the first of our weddings, I kinda feel like we're half-married; we're somewhere beyond engagement but until I have my traditional American ceremony, I just won't be able to feel like I'm really truly married.
In theory, I understood Umes's push for us to have a Hindu wedding. I know that anything besides marriage isn't really respected here and that it was important to him to have our commitment to each other respected as real and true by his community. However, I still thought people would be a bit shocked since it happened after only 10 months and some of my work friends didn't even know I was dating anyone. Oh how wrong I was. The other day he came to my office with me and I introduced him as my husband. Nobody batted an eye. They simply said "oh, that's nice" and "nice to meet you." There was no surprise at us being married and people who did know of us dating seemed genuinely relieved that we had (finally) gotten married. Here, marriage is just a fact a life. It's what you do. It's not a "big decision" the way it is in the U.S. When you get to a certain age you get married. You commit to someone (who you may or may not know) and build a life as a family.
The dichotomy of reactions and the different perspectives they represent was truly eye opening. I don't think anything in my year of living here could've prepared me for the realization of the vast cultural divide between India and the U.S.
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