Did anybody miss me?

When you're away from home from an absurdly long time, you often wonder: "Am I out of sight, and out of mind?" or "Did people actually miss me while I was gone?" These types of thoughts had been going through my mind lately as our return to the US drew closer. Then yesterday, I received an email from a friend about a girls weekend she had planned. In it she wrote: "When I figured out you would be back and could come, I nearly wet myself!!! P L E A S E come with us ... P L E A S E!!!!"

Questions answered. Thanks C!

A Thankful Countdown

Today, I've been inspired by friends' facebook statuses. Several of my friends (real friends, not just facebook people you know 'friends') are going to post one thing they are thankful for every day between now and Thanksgiving. I figured I should do that as well, but as a blog entry, because it lasts longer than a status update. So I'll start a running list:

Wednesday, November 11: I'm thankful we have money in the bank. A good chunk of my morning was wasted at the bank today due to incompetence and lies on the part of one bank employee. The upside of course, is that we have money to actually do banking with.

Thursday, November 12: I'm thankful for the safe arrival of babies being born to my friends and family. Just in the past few weeks my cousin Carla had a little boy, friends Tony & Liz had boy/girl twins and so did friends Rob & Alejandra! And there are more babies on the way!

Friday, November 13: I'm thankful that Bill arrived home safely from Paris.

Saturday, November 14: I'm thankful for the opportunity to meet new people, share stories, laugh, eat, drink, and be merry and to have a great driver to bring me home.

Sunday, November 15: I'm thankful that my girls are such good company and usually well behaved while eating in restaurants.

Monday, November 16: I'm thankful that some of the most wonderful people in the world are members of my family.

Tuesday, November 17: I'm thankful that my kids are healthy and happy

Wednesday, November 18th: I'm thankful that in the US, tap water is clean and safe to drink.

Thursday, November 19th: I'm thankful for our expat community, which is full of fun, happy, interesting people from all over the world, and who are quick to become friends.

Friday, November 20th: I'm thankful that I speak another language. It really can enhance your life and expand your circle of friends.

Saturday, November 21st: I'm thankful for the warm winter weather in India, where we can swim outdoors at Thanksgiving time.

Sunday, November 22nd: I'm thankful for a roof over my head and food in my tummy. There are so many people here in India that can't even imagine the things I take for granted.

Monday, November 23rd: I'm thankful for family days when the four of us spend time together.

Tuesday, November 24th: I'm thankful for the times when you laugh so hard that you cry.

Wednesday, November 25th: I'm thankful for my best friend in the whole world, who I'm lucky enough to be married to.

Thursday, November 26th: I'm thankful for my family and friends both new and old. Every one of them has helped to shape the person I am today (wackiness and all)

Cool as a....what? A chili pepper?

I think we all must have visions of how we'd expect ourselves to act in different situations. For example, in an emergency we'd like to picture ourselves like the doctors on ER taking control of the situation, calling for the necessary tests, procedures, and instruments to control whatever trauma has come through the doors. Unfortunately, the reality of my levelheadedness under unexpected situations is less like ER and more like America's Funniest Home Videos, where freak-outs and screaming are the norm.

My first glimpse into the reality of my less than stellar reaction was in college when a fellow student had a seizure during a quiz. No sooner had the professor left the room (honor system here folks) than a guy sitting right near me started to moan, shake and convulse. Other classmates jumped into action. One grabbed his pencil from him so he wouldn't hurt himself, another ran down the hall to call the University EMS, and I, who always assumed I'd be the one jumping to action, froze. Completely.

So I really shouldn't have been surprised by my reaction when the unexpected came flying through the girls room as I was reading a bedtime story. I looked up, initially thought it was a moth, but in one flap of wings my brain registered: BAT!!! AAACKKKK!!! Now you need to use your imagination and picture me trying to grab sheets to cover my head while screaming hysterically at top volume "BABE THERE'S A BAT IN HERE! AHHHHH!" Keep in mind that the girls were still in the room with me and weren't freaking out. Then the bat dive bombed me and landed right between Sammy's pillow and the wall, which was about 3 feet from where I was sitting. Bill, by that time, had come into the room to see what was happening thinking that one of the girls was gravely maimed or injured, based on the intensity of my screams. With the bat so close to me, I took off running (screaming all the way) into our bedroom. Bill had seen the bat fly up over my shoulder as I flew past him, realized what the heck I was screaming about, and was sensible enough to scurry the girls out of the room. I however, was in "Save Yourselves!" mode. The girls and I hid in our bedroom, Bill in the guest room. The two of us guarded our doors while peeking out as the bat did laps around our apartment, and you better believe that we closed our doors as it approached.

Bill: What do we do??
Me: (from behind my bedroom door) Open the doors!! (meaning for HIM to open the double doors that lead to our balcony and outside)

The man of action, quickly left the safety of the guest room to fling open the balcony doors and was back behind the guest room door before the bat could finish its lap.

Another lap.

And another!!

Me: Go outside you stupid thing!!!

Two more laps around and...stillness (!) except for the pounding of my yellow-belly chicken heart.

Potatoes, Spinach, Mustard Seeds...then Repeat

Now that we no longer have a cook & I'm back in the kitchen, I bought a cookbook entitled "Complete Indian Cooking". So far this cookbook has been fantastic. Without even looking at recipes, this book met my formatting criteria. There are photos of every recipe, logical ingredient lists, and even step by step directions with photos! It has the exact same format of my favorite French cookbook (no it's not Mastering the Art...but I do own a dogeared copy) "La Cuisine Francaise" which I purchased at La Librarie Gourmande in Paris. Being in India means that some of our 'normal' ingredients are not available, so when in Hyderabad...do as the Hyderbadis do-eat (and cook) Indian food!

I've been thumbing and skipping around my cookbook and while making dinner this evening, I discovered 2 IDENTICAL recipes (with the teeny tiny difference that one calls for 1 Tbsp vegetable oil and the other calls for 2 tsp vegetable oil. That's not really a difference, since no one measures the oil going into the pan anyway. Isn't that cheating??? Shouldn't the cover say "324 deliciously authentic receipes for the adventurous cook"??

Recipe #1 (page 318) is located in the Vegetarian Main Dishes chapter and is called "Spinach and Potato Curry". This one calls for the Tbsp of oil.

Recipe #2 (page 407) is located in the "Rice and Vegetable Side Dishes and Light Snacks" chapter and is called "Golden Chunky Potatoes with Spinach and Mustard Seeds". Maybe the 2 tsp of oil makes it a "light" recipe!

I will admit that the photos are different, and the directions are worded differently, but they are definitely the same recipe.

Once I finish making the Spinach and Potato Curry for dinner tonight, I'll let you know how both recipes turn out.

A Child's Insight into Driving in India

Traffic here is nuts. Plain and simple. That's why so many people (us included) have drivers. There are no rules, only suggestions, and smaller vehicles yield to larger ones,and everyone yields to cows. That's about it. I hadn't realized how much Cory had noticed about the crazy traffic until she said something that summarizes a lot: "Red means 'GO' too!" Yes, here it does mean go too.

How do you like those....um...apples?

The availability of fresh and exotic (to me) fruit has been an unexpected and incredible perk of living in India. We arrived during the extreme heat of summer, but also during peak mango season. (salivation in progress). Just the other day, I was introduced into a new and wonderful new fruit: the custard apple. This is not a shiny smooth apple like we would expect, in fact, it looks more like an artichoke without spiky leaves. It's no wonder I never paid attention to them in the shops until Prasad, our driver mentioned them to me.

You pull apart the green exterior to reveal a soft white interior made of small pods of flesh covering black smooth seeds. The taste is not easy to describe. When the first pod hit my tastebuds I immediately thought of summer. In particular, summers when I was about 8-10 years old and mom, brothers and I spent our days at a local swim club out in the rolling farmland of Central NY. One taste of the custard apple and I was 9 years old again. It was like a gorgeous summer day in your mouth with tastes/smells of: wildflowers, sunshine, clean air, and honey. Not quite what I expected from a lumpy, bumpy green fruit.

I mentioned the custard apple to some expat friends who were passing around a sweet lime, which, for the record tastes like a not so sour grapefruit. A Brit quickly replied "Oh yes, they're like apples in custard!" Not being a custard connoisseur, I really didn't know how to respond. Just the sound of the word custard really couldn't do these little guys justice.

So if you're even in the exotic fruit section of your grocery store and see custard apples (they are in season now), give one a try.

The TP Situation: All Cleaned Up

My apologies for not giving a prompt update to the TP situation. Arguing over stupid things can really take a lot out of you. And so, the long awaited outcome: I am pleased to report that the morning following the insane phone call with the school's director, there was a roll of toilet paper in the bathroom. A simple solution to a simple issue, I'm so glad I thought of it.

A Monday Down the Drain

I'm not good at arguing. Even when I'm right, eventually my emotions get the best of me, my voice gets louder and louder, and on more than one occasion tears of frustration have appeared. Today I had a phone call with the director of Sammy's preschool, a Montessori school, where she will be the first foreign student. I wanted to talk to him about a few issues, which shall hopefully be all resolved, but the one that really got me riled up was our discussion of toilet paper.

What could possibly get me so riled up about toilet paper you may ask. No, it wasn't the over-under debate as to how to mount a roll onto the toilet paper holder. Instead it all began when I made a statement (not request) on Friday while visiting Sammy's classroom before she actually started school. "There is no toilet paper in the bathroom. There needs to be." To this, her teacher replied "We have it, I will talk with maintenance about it." Let me say now, that toilet paper is a new thing here and is not commonly used. In a typical toilet stall, there will be a hose with a sprayer, very much like one that would be mounted on a kitchen sink to spray dishes. Apparently after using the toilet, spraying occurs, some shocking use of the left hand and then ...(perhaps?) dampness removal, via handkerchiefs or something non-disposable that people carry around with them.

So today, Monday morning, I took the opportunity to sneak into her classroom to check out the TP situation. None. Sigh...I spoke with her teacher again who replied that she wasn't the person who could get that done and that she had to talk to management. Huh? I truly didn't expect toilet paper to be a management decision.

Later today I called to request a meeting with the director of the school to go over a few other concerns, and obviously discuss the toilet paper situation. Rather than a face to face meeting he gave me a call since he was heading out of town. Yes, he had been informed on Friday that I required toilet paper in the bathroom stalls, and he and the staff had a half hour discussion about what to do, and came to no conclusion. (!!!) So he sent an email to the local Montessori training instructor to ask advice. He went on to explain that the school needed to take into consideration the effect it would have on all of the other students. I truly and to the bottom of my soul do not understand how on God's green earth the presence of toilet paper can have any effect on 2 & 3 year olds (or anyone for that matter), so much that the advice of a third party is needed to help evaluate the impact. I begged for explanations and clarifications on this ridiculousness, and was not impressed with the responses. (I think this was the point where my blood pressure and volume began to escalate out of control). I even pulled the money card: "You're a businessman right? And you want Westerners to send their children to your school, right? So you HAVE to have toilet paper. Period." It was at about this point where Bill started chiming in. "Just tell him if there is no toilet paper, we won't send Sammy and we'll get our money back." (Can you imagine having this conversation in the US?)

Thankfully Bill swooped in and took the phone from me before I came to full out screaming (although I was pretty close), threw his years of consulting experience at the director and hit him with both logic, reason, and softly veiled threats which was a magnificent sight to see and hear.

The outcome of all of this silliness it that this evening, the director and the staff will discuss the means for providing Sammy with toilet paper, whether it be a roll in the stall or if an aide or teacher gives it to her on the way in. Oh to be a fly on that wall....

I am curious to see what kind of looks I get tomorrow when I drop Sammy off. Maybe I should be eating something with my left hand to see who freaks out. Or maybe not. :)

I'm in "You & I"

Here in Hyderabad there is a locally published magazine, "You & I" which covers local events, people, Tollywood, restaurants, etc, along with fashion and style sections. The section I flip to first is the 'NRI/Expat Corner' written by my friend, Meera.

This week's issue marked my first appearance in "You & I"

http://www.youandimag.com/index.aspx Check me out on page 64.

Every Friday I go to a cooking class, although it's more like a demonstration, where we pay 200 rupees (~$4) get coffee, cookies, tastes of everything the chef makes, along with recipes, and the company of friends. Well worth it.

:)

Cows...yummy!

Even though Hyderabad is the 5th largest city in India, it is very very common for us to see an assortment of water buffalo, cows, goats, and of course dogs along the roads whenever we venture out. The girls always keep their eyes open looking for any kind of wildlife. Yesterday we were heading to the Ista hotel for their fantastic Sunday brunch when our driver, Prasad, said "Look Sam, cows!" Then Cory chimed in "Yummy Cows!" Hindus, of course, have a fondness of cows and will not eat beef, nor harm a cow in any way. Prasad is Hindu. Bill and I both cringed and laughed when Sammy decided to join in with a chorus of "Yummy, yummy, cows! Yummy, Yummy!" Thankfully Prasad could laugh at that too. I guess the girls were really hungry for brunch! ;)

Got Change?

Life in India has lots of ups and downs. One thing we can always count on it that no one has change. No matter what kind of store you are in, grocery, book, clothing, etc, no one ever has small bills, no piles of coins. Constantly we are asked "Do you have 10/5/2/1 Rupees? Much digging and fumbling follows. Most of the time, yes, I do indeed have some coins or a 10 rupee note.

The other day in the grocery store, I discovered what would happen when a customer truly did not have change.

I was behind a twenty something man who was buying only a small bag of fresh ginger. (Imagine that-needing a special trip to the grocery store for ginger; not milk, bread, meat, etc, but ginger.) The cashier weighed the ginger and told him "21 Rupees". He handed her three 10 rupee notes. She, of course, asked "Do you have 1 Rupee?" so she wouldn't have to give him 9Rs in coins. No. So...(ready?) she opened the bag of ginger, broke off a piece, reweighed it, and said "19 Rupees." She took his 20Rs and gave him 1 Rs in change.

And now I know...

Letter to our Landlord

Dear ___,
We are enjoying our stay in your flat, but need to update you on a few things. First of all, I'm sorry our rent check was late last month. My mother arrived from the US on July 31st and with all of the excitement and activity, I forgot to stop at the bank and deposit our check for you.

Secondly, we have 2 maintenance issues. The first is that the hot water heater in the master bathroom has been leaking for the past month. I've made several calls to Maintenance and even written out 2 separate notes explaining the issue. It wasn't until I marched down there today and demanded action did the woman in the Maintenance office tell me that they don't deal with the Bajaj company, and I'd have to arrange and pay for any repairs "at my own risk". She said she'd get me the phone number to contact a Bajaj repairman. I will keep you updated on this.

The second and most eye-raising issue occurred on Monday evening. The door to the 2nd bedroom (facing the garden) has become increasingly difficult to open. On Monday evening, our nanny went into the room to freshen up before leaving for the day. When she tried to exit the room, the door would NOT open. I tried our 'trick' for opening it from the outside and was unsuccessful. I tried using the key and the key would not turn enough to unlock the door. She and I tried for about 20 minutes to pull, push, turn, and to open the door by any possible means. It was stuck stuck stuck.

By then it was about 7pm so I called Maintenance hoping that someone would be there. Their response: "Yes, Madame we will help" was followed by 10 minutes of nothing, so I went down to the office, wading through ankle deep puddles and dodging the monsoon rain to escort someone back to the flat with me. The young man who came carried only his cell phone, no tools. After a few minutes of trying keys and doing everything I had been doing since our nanny became locked in, he said he'd be back in 15 minutes. Knowing that "15 minutes" can often times mean "never", I refused to let him leave. He called down to the clubhouse and spoke to someone who was supposed to come and help.

Meanwhile, our nanny, Kamleen, had been stuck in that room for almost an hour. I slid her bible and 2 slices of bread under the door knowing that she would probably be in there a while. A little while later, another man came armed with a pair of pliers and a screwdriver. He repeated the previous attempts at forcing the door open as well as trying the keys. Needless to say, he was unsuccessful. "The lock is broken Madame", he said. I told him "I knew that quite a while ago" and wanted him to call a locksmith. Instead of doing the sensible thing and calling someone who knew how to deal with broken locks, he proceeded to use his screwdriver as a chisel, pounding on the end of it with his pliers, chipping away the door around the lock.

Once he had sufficiently damaged the door, he realized that his method wasn't going to work, and the door was still not going to open. Kamleen, realizing that her fate might be better off in her own hands, realized that she could unscrew the window screen and the 2 maintenance men could enter the room by crawling onto the balcony ledge and through the bedroom window. Once the screen was off and the men were on the inside of the bedroom, the pounding continued from the inside. After more and more pounding, chipping, breaking, and 2 hours of entrapment, Kamleen was finally free.

Now comes the damge report: the metal face plate that the deadbolt goes into was broken and bent apart, the wooden door frame behind the metal plate was completely chipped away.


The living room side of the door around the keyhole was completely chipped away as well.
The maintenance men left the apartment with the parting words that a carpenter would come tomorrow (Tuesday) and make it all like new.

Today (Wednesday) I had to call the Maintenance office and they eventually sent a carpenter to evaluate what it would take to repair all of the damage and replace the lock. He quoted me 2200 Rupees (~$44). I have a few issues with this price. First of all, I'm sure they're trying to take advantage of the 'foreigner' and quote an outrageous price with the hope that I'd agree and pay it without question. My second issue is that my idea was to call a locksmith, not destroy the door. Third, the damage they inflicted on the outside of the bedroom door was completely unnecessary and did not aid in opening the door. I'd suggest that the Maintenance department be held responsible for some of the repair costs.

I went around town today and asked 2 different carpenters to come over and give me a quote for fixing the damage. When I get those quotes, I will let you know. Please let me know what you think should be done about the cost of the repairs to the door and frame as well as the cost of the new lock set.

Sorry to drop all of this on you at once.

I will keep you updated on the door issue as well as the water heater.
Best Regards,
Meigan Sullivan

Status Report: Our First 100 Days

The 100 day marker has passed for the Sullivans in India. Here's a quick summary of our time here:

Things we're not having trouble adjusting to and things we like:
New Friends
the golf course: Boulder Hills Golf and Country Club
having 2 pools to go to: one at the golf course, one at the apartment complex
Paying $15 a month for our 2 cell phones
Paying $100 for the YEAR for TV with DVR
Great restaurants
Great food
a maid
a cook
a driver
never having to park the car
tropical fruit that is cheap, delicious and readily available.
Inexpensive clothes and shoes

Things we're having trouble adjusting to:
the Indian way of saving face: saying things they think we want to hear instead of just the plain old truth
The lack of efficiency which occurs in an attempt to employ the masses (explaining this may require a separate blog entry)
not having good wine or paying a fortune for wine that is good
Having all kinds of stores sell squash rackets, but none of them sell the balls


Things we will never understand and can only laugh at:
traffic
cows, buffalo, and goats walking down the road
salesmen telling me that this "shoe, bra, outfit, whatever, etc is very comfortable Madame"
The Indian 'Head Bob' which can mean either "yes", "no", or simply "my ears have registered that a sound emitted from your mouth", yet all versions of the head bob look pretty much the same. I can't tell the difference yet, but I'm working on it.

Things that I acknowledge and then move on:
men peeing on the side of the road all the time
power outages (thankfully our apartment has a full power backup generator otherwise this would fall under a different category)
Not being able to drink or brush teeth with tap water

Things we miss:
friends & family
a good steak
Central air-conditioning
good cheese (although it wasn't as ubiquitous in VA as it was in Paris, we could still get it)
my garden
the independence of having your own car and driving it yourself

The Elephants We'll Never Forget

Leaving Kuala Lumpur, we headed Northeast to go to a Kuala Gandah an elephant conservation center. People at the center work to relocate wild elephants who are damaging crops and are therefore at risk of being killed by angry farmers. The center also takes in elephants who have been injured by other animals like tigers and other big cats. Elephants are relocated from different parts of Southeast Asia and are brought protected lands in Malaysia. At the center are several tame and working elephants that can be used to calm and comfort the wild elephants during the relocation process. The worker elephants can accompany and help move the recently tranquilized, dazed, and scared wild elephants, which can provide a calming effect.

I am pleased to say that I can now distinguish an Asian elephant from an African elephant. Probably the easiest way is to look at the elephant's ears. If the ears are very large, floppy and shaped like the continent of Africa, yup, it's an African elephant. If the ears are smaller and shaped like the Indian Subcontinent, yup, its an Asian elephant. Other differences are the highest point of the animal's body. For Asian elephants, its the top of the head, for African elephants, it's the shoulder. Another difference is the little finger-like appendage at the end of the elephant's trunk. Asian elephants have one appendage on the top of the trunk, while African elephants have 2 appendages on both the top and bottom.

Apart from the educational value of our visit, it was something we will never forget. While at the center, we were able to feed, ride, and bathe with the elephants. The elephants were led from their free roaming area to where us visitors were. The adults were led into the river for a little bath while the babies were given nice showers with hoses.

We were then allowed to feed the elephants an assortment of watermelon, papaya, sugar cane, and bananas. The elephants were chained in place so we weren't worried about being accidentally trampled. Sammy found her favorite big guy and loved placing fruit on the end of his trunk for him to eat.

After snacktime, the first 100 visitors were able to take a ride on an elephant. Sammy rode with Bill and he made sure that she wouldn't fall off:

While the elephant rides were going on, a young 4 year old female elephant was brought out to mingle with everyone. She and Sammy became good friends:
The last activity on our elephant adventure was 'bathing' with the elephants. Sammy chose to watch from the riverbanks while Cory and I climbed onto an elephant, it walked forward a bit, and a command was shouted by one of the staff, and the elephant dropped over into the water, depositing us in as well.



Our visit with the elephants at Kuala Gandah was incredible and it was something we will never forget.

http://www.pahangtourism.com.my/tropical/attractions/kgandah.html

Kuala Lumpur: If you build it, they will come

Our Malaysian vacation began with a very late night flight from Hyderabad to Kuala Lumpur. We had rented a car from Avis (automatic transmission) and found Avis counter deserted. After multiple inquires, rides up and down multiple elevators, a trek outside and into a parking garage did we find another Avis office. We loaded ourselves and Sammy's rented carseat into a silver Honda Civic and ventured out. We've always considered a Civic to be a small car, but for some reason, perhaps it was driving on the left side of the road, or because the steering wheel was on the right, it felt huge.

Very quickly we discovered impressive infrastructure, but with poor signage. Now, I am an intelligent person, but navigating is not my forte. When driving myself it's not a problem, but when Bill drives on vacation it seems to bring out a level of ineptitude or a mental block in my directional sense. This combined with some less than clear roadsigns led to some frustrating moments. In retrospect, I should have acquainted myself with the Malay words for "highway" and "road" beforehand, but hindsight is always 20/20. If we hadn't had Bill's Blackberry with GoogleMaps loaded up, I'm not sure how we would have made it anywhere.

We arrived at the Hilton Kuala Lumpur (KL) and were pleased to find that due to Bill's Gold status, we had been upgraded to a suite. It was a sweet suite! I guess that was our reward for having Bill be in New York every week for the first 16 weeks of 2009.

While searching through our guidebook for things to see and do during our 3 days in Kuala Lumpur, it dawned on me that this was our first vacation with 2 kids who needed to enjoy the vacation as well. So my initial list of things to see which consisted of a few temples, mosques, and other cultural things, was scrapped. Instead we went to an aquarium, an indoor amusement park, a huge waterpark, and made sure our hotel not only had a pool, but a waterslide as well. Gone were the good intentions of getting some cultural exposure, in its place was the 'entertain the kids' plan. Since this was my first experience only seeing the 'fun' places a destination had to offer, it felt strange, and left me with feelings of mild regret and guilt. The only thing must see thing for me were the Petronas Towers, which up until recently were the tallest buildings in the world. They're hard to miss:

I was able to take advantage of the girls nap time on our first day and ventured out alone to go to KL's Central Market. It's an indoor market place with shops that specialize in traditional Malay, Indian, and Chinese crafts, clothing, and general souvenirs. While it was interesting to browse, especially the batik paintings and jewelery made from coconut shells, I held off buying anything before getting an idea of what things should cost.

One of the funnier things we did in KL was go to a fish spa. Yes, a fish spa. This is where you stick your feet in a pool filled with Doctor Fish and they nibble, suck, and feed on the dead skin on your feet! Tickle-o-Rama! It was hilarious.

Unfortunately my new found addiction to pedicures didn't leave my feet with much snacking for the little fish and after about 15 minutes, there were only a few left nibbling away. They went on to greener pastures on Bill's feet:


KL was an impressive city which was clean & modern with lots of things to do. It's also a shopper's paradise, (especially between July 4th and August 31st, when all stores have massive sales). There were malls, after malls, after malls, most with upscale and luxury shops, along with the more typical brands as well. The next time I visit KL, I'm hoping to venture out and get exposed to more Malay culture but all in all it was a great visit.

Fix it and forget it

We have a furnished apartment here in Hyderabad. For the most part, the furniture is fine. Granted there are a number (or maybe I should say were) a number of glass topped tables whose days are most likely numbered, but overall it's a comfortable apartment. Although I still think that those who have glass tables shouldn't have kids:



One surprise was a broken couch whose huge sag in the middle was cleverly disguised with bolster pillows in the photos we saw. We emailed the owner about the couch and he wasn't really interested in replacing it unless we really needed it to be replaced. Now being frugally influenced by a number of friends, I could understand that, especially since the price of a new couch could be more than a month's rent.

During our short time here, we've already had a number of things repaired or replaced in the apartment. Our on-site maintenance staff doesn't charge for labor, only for parts. A pipe under the kitchen sink cost less than a dollar to replace, and to replace a part in a ceiling fan cost $1.20. If $1.20 could make our ceiling fan go from dead to super turbo again, I began to wonder how much it would be to fix the couch. We'd have to find a carpenter to find out.

On Tuesday the girls, their nanny, & I were doing some grocery shopping and we stopped at the fresh (still breathing when you order it) chicken shop. Conveniently located right next door was a woodworker's shop. My cook/nanny, Kamleen, and my driver, Prasad, went over to inquire about getting our couch fixed. Later that afternoon, two carpenters, master and apprentice I presume, came over and we haggled over the price. Keep in mind that these 2 men did not speak ANY English, and Kamleen served as my translator. Part of our haggling was over the cost to transport the couch to and from their shop, which, for the record, was around the corner. They were originally going to hire a cargo autorickshaw to transport the couch, but would use something else that would be cheaper, so that they could keep more of the agreed price. The apprentice returned with this:

A middle aged man with a three wheeled bicycle-rickshaw, drove our broken couch back to the shop and brought it back again, and all he got was $4.

I watched the couch be pushed up the hill to the main entry gate and then it disappeared from sight. I was secretly slightly worried that something would happen to it and I'd have to explain to the owner how I had 'lost' his couch. I shouldn't have worried. Not even 24 hours later, the couch was returned by the same middle aged man with the bicycle rickshaw and the carpenter's apprentice, completely repaired. I paid $64 total. Great price, great service.

Yesterday during my trip to the shoe store, a young Indian man came up to me and said:

"Hello. Where are you from?"

"The U.S."

"And what is your name?"

"Meigan."

"I am Shankar from India."

"Hello Shankar from India."

People certainly are friendly here.
:)

Just call me Sasquatch...

I did a little shoe shopping today. I found a cute pair that I wanted to try and asked the overly-attentive salesman if I could try it on in a size 8. Here is our conversation:

"We don't have any of these in an 8", he said, shaking his head sadly and waving his hand toward the ENTIRE back half of the store. "The only kinds we have in your size are Hush Puppies or Dr. Scholls."

Ok, show me something like this pair in an 8."

First pair was unsuccessful.
"Ok, show me everything you have in a size 8." I think I tried on 4 different pairs of shoes. If I wore a size 5 or a 6, I would have been golden and could have had my pick of the entire store.

Oh well, I did buy one pair. I'll just have to check with the other expat ladies who have sasquatch feet like me, where to buy shoes.

Meigan's Indian Cooking...Take 1

My first attempt at cooking an Indian dinner was a great success. The flavor was good, the spice was not too intense, and most importantly, the girls ate it all! That being said, I did learn a few things. To start with, whatever measurement the recipe says for chili powder...divide it in HALF. Secondly, and this is a very important one, don't touch your face after you've touched chili peppers. I thought my eyes were going to be burned out of their sockets. This picture was taken after I vigorously rinsed my eyes out with water, hence the wet shirt.



Chicken Tikka Masala in progress:


A Happy Family:


With any luck the girls will become accomplished eaters of spicy food. Cory is a bit more adventurous than Sammy is right now. Cory's new phrase is "It's OK Sammy, it's not spicy, it just has a little Zip to it!" :D

A Girl's Gotta Eat

It took 27 days in India for me to admit that I cannot live on restaurant food and pasta alone. I have to start cooking again. Unless a cook happens to knock on my door, I either need to get out and search for one or light the stove myself.

I took a trip to the bookstore yesterday and came home with 5 cookbooks. Four of them are mini ones so I really didn't go crazy. Here are the titles:

Nita Metha's Indian Cooking
Choicest Indian Curries
Fabulous Flavors Vegetarian
50 Great Curries of India

and the one that shouted "Buy me! Buy me!":
Simple Cooking for the Desperate Housewife

Yup, that's how I felt: desperate. A great majority of South Indians are vegetarian. Their grocery stores reflect this. Most of the ones I have visited do NOT sell any kind of meat, neither fresh nor frozen. What I have found are huge barrels of lentils, grains, and lots of other mysterious legumes that would probably be fun to plunge your hands into. Unfortunately, I don't know what or how to cook all of those things! Where's the meat? So my desperation led me to the bookstore.

Today I had to start stocking the cupboards. I perused my new assortment of recipes, and made a grocery list. Thankfully I wrote the Hindi translations down as well as the English, because I would have left the grocery store with either empty hands or a daring assortment of "this looks like whole cumin...I hope."

So my cupboards now contain things like garam masala, chat masala, ginger paste, garlic paste, chili powder, and whole cumin. Just opening the cupboard doors releases a nice waft of spicy air. Lets hope my cooking smells as good.

The Nehru Zoo Review

We spent yesterday at the Nehru Zoological Park in Hyderabad. It is the largest zoo in India and we're lucky to have it in our city. It has over 300 acres of land and over 250 different species of birds and animals. The phrase 'Zoo Park' is quite accurate. There are many large areas to sit and relax in the shade. The animal enclosures were often separated from the walkways by large moats rather than by fences or plexiglass. It made a nicer viewing atmosphere and made it seem more 'natural' for the animals. Perhaps the best benefits of going to a zoo in India was the hot climate. I should specify that it was a benefit for viewing the animals rather than a personal benefit (I was dripping with sweat the whole day). Rarely have I been to a zoo where the animals were out and about as much as they were here. It was very hot yesterday with a light breeze. Almost every single animal was out of its cave and visible if not moving around. It was a great improvement from going to the Washington DC Zoo in the winter and wondering why all of these hot weather animals were inside their shelters.





Once again, we were an attraction as well. Crowds would form around us and stare at us, not only at the animals. Friendly Indians would approach us and attempt small talk in English. On more than one occasion Indian parents would push (sometimes literally) their young children to say hello to us. Sometimes the poor kids would squeak out a shy "Hello", other times they'd engage in polite and friendly conversation. You could see the pride in the parents' eyes.



We had a great day at the zoo and didn't have the energy for the safari through the lion habitat. We'll save that for next time. Another great part of the day was our driver, Prasad, who helped us immensely by buying tickets, jumping lines, and most importantly by carrying Sammy around the zoo. I think he carried her more than she walked around by herself and also more than anyone else carried her, which was a godsend on such a hot day.

Good Eats-Mangoes

When we first arrived in Hyderabad, my driver from the airport told me that mango season was just starting. Now, mangoes are my absolute favorite tropical fruit. Bill and I have the bar set pretty high when it comes to mangoes: they are all compared to "the ones we bought on the side of the road in St. Thomas." Just the mention of them causes a Pavlovian response for me. My first trip to the grocery store made me realize that were more kinds of mangoes than I had ever anticipated. There are some that are best for eating, best for pickling, best for chutneys, best for this and that, and best for juice.

The other day, our friend, Bill's co-worker, and Hyderabad native, Anjali brought us some mangoes that her dad had picked for us. One type was for eating, the other was for juice. Not realizing that there were 'juice' mangoes, I was very intrigued. The instructions were to wash the outside of the mango really well, massage it, pull off the stem, hold the mango up to your mouth and drink. Wow oh wow. Nectar from the gods! I started making sounds like my buddy Carmine does when he eats a meatball sub: Mmm...oh...MMM..ohhh... Not wanting to overdose on enjoyment I squeezed the remaining pulp from the pit, and squeezed another full mango into a cereal bowl. The bowl was full(!) from the juice of 2 mangoes. Heaven...I'm in heaven... Then to save it for later, I poured my sweet mango elixir into popsicle molds, dropped in some craft sticks and popped the molds into the freezer. Frozen fresh squeezed mango-pops...life is good.

Play imitates Life

I had some chuckles last night and this afternoon watching the girls play. Last night Cory decided that she would clean the apartment, and play 'Maid'. This afternoon Doctor Cory & Doctor Sammy were tending the wounds of their stuffed animals. Then they'd rush into another room with the cry "she's bleeding she's bleeding" (meaning a stuffed kitten/dog/monkey and tend another one.

I guess the things that have made an impression on them is the frequency of seeing someone else come to clean, and our urgent trip to the hospital for Cory's knife wound.

I need it now...

During the past few months I have gotten into the mindset to bargain shop. I have a few friends who are experts at finding the best bargains by using coupons, store reward dollars, outright research, and anything else they can think of. They'll get the best deals on groceries even if it means going to several grocery stores in one day. I was certainly awed by their success and had made attempts to economize as well. most notably at CVS where I would make purchases to maximize the ExtraCare Bucks I'd receive as well as using the register coupons to save money.

Fast forward to Hyderabad. We moved into a furnished apartment. It has furniture but no dishes, cookware, glasses, cutlery, utensils, etc. So when I went out shopping, it was almost a relief to know that I was only going to go to one store, and if I needed something, it was going in the cart.

That being said, nothing I have found has been expensive. I bought a darker set of curtains for 2 of the bedrooms and sheets for the girls' beds. I did look at the prices and decided that they were still cheaper than they'd be if I were purchasing them at home, so to the checkout I went. Then when everything was rung up...50% off everything. Woo Hoo!

So even though I got lucky, hopefully the lessons I've learned from my frugal friends won't be forgotten. For all of you who are still in the mindset of bargain hunting, check out my friends' blogs:

http://www.frugalinvirginia.com
http://www.madamedeal.wordpress.com
http://www.funfabulousandfrugal.com

A little Quiz

What do the following songs have in common?

Camptown Races
Dixieland
The Lone Ranger
When the Saints go Marching in
Love Me Tender
She'll be Coming 'round the Mountain
Clementine
Three Blind Mice
The Toreador Song
There's no Place Like Home
America the Beautiful

Give up? Well all of these songs are played by our Doorbell! Yes, you read that right. No boring old 'ding-dong' here; the Sullivans get serenaded every time someone comes to the door. It's becoming a game: what song is next???

How do we sleep? Let me count the ways...

Jet lag has been rough, especially for Cory. The first few days we were here, we all were napping whenever we could, but Cory would fall asleep whenever and wherever she was. Here are a few photos. Words don't do some of these justice.

Cinco de My-oh-my-o

The girls refused to go down for naps today so I had the not so brilliant idea to go out and do some errands. We went to HomeTown (as close to a Home Depot that you can find in India) so I could buy a mattress. Once in the car I knew that this idea was going to be a big mistake. The girls kept saying “A Motorcycle, another motorcycle, a motorcycle!” Every time they saw one. Keep in mind that whenever on a road in Hyderabad, you can see several dozen motorcycles no matter where you look. My head was pounding by the time we arrived.

We went up to the 2nd floor where I looked at mattresses. The girls, instead, ran ON the display beds bouncing from one to another, first with their shoes on and then with their shoes off. I was having a hard time figuring out what I had written down as to the mattress measurements I needed (there's no such thing as a standard size here), I was sweating profusely, trying to keep the girls from both destroying merchandise and cracking their heads open, and preventing the salesman from thinking I was a complete idiot for thinking I needed a mattress 116cm (less than 4ft) in length. Once I decided to ignore the girls a little, I realized that I had written 196cm which made much more sense. To top it off there was an Indian family there who were also mattress shopping. They had a young boy of ~8years old who came up to me several times and said (in perfect English) “You need to control your children” and "you should be ashamed." What can you possibly say to that? Yes he was 100% right, even though it was impossible to control them, and yet it was completely rude and obnoxious to say. In hindsight, I should have asked him for some parenting tips. (I’ll file that away for the next time).

Unfortunately the check-out process was not much more fun for me. There was more sweating, more feeling stupid (didn’t know my cell#), and more little blonde girls running around out of control. We definitely should have stayed home.

Once we finally fled the store, and were in the relative sanctuary of the car, we saw the coming of something that we hadn’t even seen a trace of yet: rain. The clouds were pouring in, there was both noticeable humidity and the tingling of electricity in the air. If this storm was a preview of the coming monsoons, we are in for some really good ones! After these 100+ degree days, I can't wait to sit on the balcony (covered of course), watch the rain come down, and feel the temperatures drop.

Cinco de Mayo was celebrated at the Novotel hotel's Mexican restaurant having dinner with some new expat friends. My beverage of choice was a fruity little number called "Heaven", something that sounded great after my miserable day out.

Good News...

We had a good experience at the Emergency room today...bad news is that we needed to GO to the emergency room. Cory learned a good lesson. She's not going to pick up sharp knives and try to cut cantaloupes or anything else with them again. Her finger got in the way. :( Poor girl, she was bleeding like crazy, so I wrapped her finger up in a wet wash cloth, got everyone's shoes on and headed off to the children's hospital. Yet another benefit of having a driver is that I didn't have to concentrate on driving and being a little panicked, I could just sit next to Cory and hug her.

Other than that, we're getting settled in pretty well. We have a maid coming every morning for 2-3 hours, we found out where the fuse box is, the new washing machine is hooked up, internet should be hooked up tomorrow (they were supposed to come today), bottled water should be delivered tomorrow as well. Maybe the best outcome of the day was that I finally bought a coffee maker. I haven't had any coffee since the plane, and Bill had his first cup today at work. Now watch...it'll be so hot tomorrow that I won't want a cup of hot coffee. I can always chill it down I guess!

Flight #1: Washington Dulles to Doha, Qatar

Our first red-eye flight was thankfully uneventful. The flight was only half full meaning that the four of us had 6 seats to ourselves. Sammy sprawled out right away making herself as comfortable as possible and fell asleep not long after take-off. The rest of us weren’t quite so lucky.

The 4 of us arrived at Washington Dulles with 5 suitcases, a huge carseat bag, Jasmine’s crate. A very nice sky-cap helped us weigh our bags before we checked them in and we discovered that we had 2 overweight suitcases not just the one we were expecting. I took control of the re-distribution of heavy stuff (namely sunscreen, and other toiletries). The resulting reshuffle, created a different overweight bag. Time to re-re-distribute the heavy stuff again. Success! Once we were confident that we were only going to pay for 1 overweight bag, we proceeded to check in. All of the ticketing gate, all of the Qatar agents were wearing face masks. Qatar airlines was taking precautions against swine flu. Strangely enough, the girls didn’t comment on it at all, at least, not until we received our own masks on the plane.

Once we arrived in Doha, we headed straight for the kids play area. This was a godsend. The girls ran around, made new friends, climbed up and down ladders, through tubes, and down slides for the duration of our lay-over. The burned off energy & got tired at the same time. :)

A Date.

Our passports and visas are finally in hand. Plane reservations have been made. We'll be flying out on Tuesday April 28th, arriving in Hyderabad on April 30th, my 34th birthday.

Thanks, but I pack ALONE

Pack pack pack. That's what I have been doing all weekend. What do we need to carry on the plane and what can we wait a few weeks for and include in our air shipment? Decisions, decisions. Thankfully with the Easter holiday, we had a houseful of family and they were excellent at occupying the girls, so I could actually pack in peace.

Now there are some people who may appreciate offers of help when it comes to packing. Not me. I have lived and learned. I will never forget how Cory "helped" me pack for a trip from Paris to Virginia. I was 4 months pregnant with Sammy & Cory was 17 months old. We were flying from Paris to London to Philadelphia to Charlottesville. This particular trip was a few weeks before my brother Pat's wedding. It was just Cory and I making this trip as Bill was still working in Paris and would fly in for the wedding later. I remember packing the backpack I used as a carry-on while on the floor of our Paris apartment bedroom and Cory peeking inside. Not wanting any "help" I tried to keep her away from my bag as I packed, repeatedly having to remove her not-so-idle hands.

I finished packing and the next morning we cabbed it to Charles de Gaulle airport and from there flew to London Heathrow. The flight to Philly was a surprisingly good one. We were lucky to be the the last row of the plane where there were only 2 seats instead of 3, so we had extra space and no one to bother. Win-win. Cory was also able to walk around the galley smiling at the flight crew and back and forth down the aisles at will. She was a good ambassador by saying 'Hi' to people with aisle seats and sneaked into first class to check out what they were doing behind that curtain. ;)

Once in Philadelphia after an already very long day, I couldn't find my cell phone in my backpack. I looked and looked and looked. I dug and dug and dug. Only after emptying out the entire bag did I discover that it was no longer there. Cory had succeeded in "helping" me pack.

Now, in a normal situation it wouldn't have been that big of a deal, but circumstances conspired against me. We were returning to our new house where we had just moved, didn't know anyone, didn't have a landline at the house, nor did we have internet service. I was also pregnant and had my first appointment at the new obstrician the next day. I spent part of our 6 hour layover reacquainting myself with the use of a payphone, calling my parents & in-laws to let them know we had arrived and were phoneless. We were severely jet-lagged, tired and cranky by the time our flight to Charlottesville left that evening. After retrieving my giant suitcase, carryon, stroller, carseat, and toddler, I dragged everything, including my "is she pregnant or just fat?" self out to the curb get a taxi to take us home. What I then discovered was that at 10:30pm on a weeknight at Charlottesville airport, there AREN'T taxis just waiting to take the throngs of travelers home. It's deserted. Ugh. No cell phone. Double ugh. Thankfully I wasn't the only weary traveler, although I was definitely the weariest, in need of a cab. A nice lady went inside and used the phone at the rental car desk to call for some cabs. I guess she didn't have a cell phone either. Twenty minutes later the first taxi arrives. The 4 other people waiting took pity on me and let Cory and I take the first cab. In that moment I was extremely thankful for the kindness of Americans, and very pleased to have been treated so well at my new home airport. In Paris, that situation would have been even more unpleasant.

Safely home...but wait...there's more. It gets better. The next morning we needed to fill up Old Mother Hubbard's cupboards and head to the grocery store before my obstetrician appointment that afternoon. I strapped Cory's carseat into my car, got in, turned the key and...nothing. Dead battery. UGH. For kicks, I tried to start Bill's car. Dead too. UGH UGH. Now what? No cell phone, no landline, I don't know anyone, it's a weekday so most neighbors would be at work. Both cars were parked in the garage nose-in so we'd have to push one car out of the garage just to be able to reach the battery with jumper cables. I wasn't really up for that. Aye Yie yie. I considered taking Cory for a walk in the stroller around the neighborhood and carrying a set of jumper cables in hopes of making new friends, or walking to the main gate at the Lake (quite a hike by the way) to request help from the police. In the end, I decided to turn the computer on to see if I could find an unsecured wireless network to jump on, then at least I could email or IM someone who might have ideas, or if worse came to worst, contact Enterprise Rental Car because "they'll pick you up." Maybe it was my move to the South, but once again "the kindness of strangers" came through for me. I found an unsecured wireless network (those neighbors have since moved), was able to IM my in-laws, who were fabulous and called up the Lake Monticello Police who sent not one but 2 officers to my house with extra long jumper cables. We got both cars started up and Cory and I were able to make it to the grocery store and to the Dr as well.

All's well that ends well I suppose. But I do carry around lessons learned from that marathon trip.
1. Double and triple check cellphones and power cords before leaving.
2. When leaving for an extended period of time, back the cars into the garage so when/if you need to jump start them, you can reach the battery.
3. Avoid at all costs 6 hour layovers with toddlers.

Now that those lessons have been well learned and chiseled into my brain, when the girls want to help pack, I can calmly and without guilt, tell them: "Sorry girls, but I pack alone."

A Smile for the Day

Ever since we moved to Virginia, I've been intrigued by the incredible number of vanity license plates as well as their creativity and humor. When we first registered our cars here we were stunned to find out that there are over 200 different types of license plate designs in VA ranging from collegiate to military to a dizzying array of special interests. Jimmy Buffett fans can even get their own Parrotheads license plates here.

Apart from the different styles of plates available, I'm always curious to see what clever or funny personalization people have on their plates. On a roofer's truck I've seen: IROOF4U. Clever and good advertising. There are also tributes to people's children, or sports teams or even general interests, but today I saw a vanity plate that really made me smile. I was on the treadmill at the gym looking out the glass doors overlooking the parking lot, when an elderly woman left the gym & got into her car. As she pulled away, I saw her license plates: 2FOXY4U

That made my day.
:)

I could really use a date...

A departure date that is. Our big move is very much up in the air right now, and the stress of not knowing is weighing on me. A rep from a shipping/moving company came by the house on Monday to survey what we would be shipping via air vs sea to India. The exercise seemed very silly since: 1. We don't know when we're leaving, 2. we don't know where we're going to live, 3. if our housing will be furnished (let's pray) or unfurnished. So the importance of deciding which cookbooks to ship over certainly pales by comparison.

We've also decided that our cat Jasmine will be making the trip to India with us. We figured that 24 hours of travel hell for her would still be better than 2 years of sadness. We think she has finally forgiven us for not taking her to Paris with us back in 2005-2006, even though she was well taken care of and loved by Great Aunt Amy. Bringing Jazzy creates another element of concern since she will need to have health certificates signed within 10 days of our departure. It's hard to schedule a vet appointment less than 10 days before 'Date TBD'. So I'll state again: I need a date.

We can do this

Our week in Hyderabad was an interesting one. Our first day left our heads spinning and our eyebrows raised. Starting on Day 2 we saw a very different Hyderabad. We visited a championship golf course (Bill's eyes got really big when seeing that one), two international schools, very nice housing options, cosmopolitan areas and shops, and have eaten lots of incredible (not to mention cheap) food. Having a driver at our disposal was certainly easy to get used to, and having a cook and maid will be no problem at all. Yes, we can do this.

Impressed by the Dressed

For me, one of the most interesting things on our trip was the tremendously colorful clothing worn by Indian women. Sarees, Salwar Kameez, Churidar Kamees, Kurtas, everywhere I looked there were elegant women beautifully dressed. Regardless of their status or wealth, whether it be a woman in a saree doing manual labor building roads, or a woman riding on the back of a motorcycle, or leaving office buildings, there were always riots of color and style that I couldn't help but admire. I felt very sloppy by comparison in long pants (black or beige) and a short sleeve shirt. Mix and match doesn't seem to exist here where tops, pants, and scarves are literally made to coordinate and be worn as a complete outfit.

As you may guess, my admiration of Indian clothing led me to the mall. The girls now have "Indian Princess" dresses which were purchased on Day 1. Looking back, they're a little bold, but I don't think that will make my 2 little blue-eyed blondes stick out any more than they already would. My Indian wardrobe has also received its inaugural outfits; more are sure to come.

Day 1: A Tourist Attraction

Our first day in Hyderabad, Bill & I decided to see the city like any ordinary tourist would. We were going to have a car and driver all week, so after getting the obligatory brochure from the front desk, we set out to see Golkonda Fort, Chowmahalla Palace, and Charminar.

Golkonda Fort was supposed to be a tourist attraction, but instead Bill & I were. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, stared at us as we passed. As he and I stood looking at the view, we heard calls of “Hello! Hello! Hello!” Turning around and looking up we saw about ten smiling faces peeking over a wall above us trying to get our attention. “Photo? Photo? Just one photo?“ they asked. We smiled. We waved. They clicked away. That was the first of several photo shoots we were subjects of. My personal favorite was at Charminar where a twenty-something boy gestured to Bill to take his photo. Bill being the nice guy asked "would you like me to take your picture?" He offered up his camera and then stood right next to me and smiled at the camera. I saw that one coming a mile away. ;)

Surrounding Charminar are roads full of shops and bazaars selling all assortments of clothing, jewelry, burquas, sarees, and all sorts of other wares. We went looking for “Indian Princess Dresses’ for Cory and Sammy. I made the initial faux pas of not taking my shoes off before stepping into the first shop, but recovered quickly.

By the time we returned to the hotel, I was definitely suffering from sensory overload. During our car ride we saw: 3 camel riders trotting down the road, countless goats & cows, horses tethered at the front doors of shops, upscale stores, run down hovels, shanties, families of 4 riding on motorcycles, brightly colored sarees, women in burquas , schoolchildren in matching uniforms and many many other new and different sights.

On a scale of 1 (low) to 10 (high), I was at about a 7 on the 'fear of living in India' scale at the end of day #1.

The Arrival

Around 3:30am local time on Saturday February 6th, I stepped foot on Indian soil for the first time. Disembarking from my plane, I arrived at the very modern and nary 1year old Hyderabad Airport. I emerged from Customs, which was an even bigger joke than at most other airports, and exited the airport to find myself walking toward the curb in between throngs of Indians held back by shiny new railings. I felt as though I was walking out on a red carpet and everyone in sight was there to greet me. I held back on the urge to smile and wave one of those beauty pageant waves. Chuckling to myself, I looked around and found my driver, holding up a sign with my name. At least one face in the crowd was there for me. ;)

Let the Adventure Begin!

Things I can do when traveling alone

I embarked on an unusual journey this evening. It's not just my destination that was unusual, but my travel partners, or more specifically, my lack of travel partners. For the first time I can remember since 2001, I am traveling internationally...alone. No husband, no kids, just me. My ride to the airport was quiet, the airport is eerily quiet, or at least my area of B terminal here at Dulles. As I was sitting here quietly, my brain began to think about all of those things I can do today that are normally difficult or impossible with my 2 tiny travel mates.

I can:
1. use a non-handicapped toilet
2. sit in a chair and close my eyes and rest
3. type this blog
4. go an extended period of time without speaking (which is nice on my sore throat)
5. hear the music they're playing over the airport speakers
6. consider getting a massage at the "Massage Bar"
7. call friends just to chat
8. read
9. peruse the magazine stands (why do magazines seem so much more interesting at the airport??)
10. buy candy and eat it all myself
11. not have my hands full
12. sit in an exit row

Now, this isn't to say that I don't miss my girls. In fact seeing Sammy's little tear rolling down her cheek as she said "Bye Mommy" nearly broke my heart. But traveling with them, especially when I'm the only adult, isn't that much fun.

Well, I'm off to peruse the magazine stands and find something for dinner.

Things I never knew existed

Researching for our trip to India has been an education in itself. I have found a good India travel forum online and it consists of posts and articles from expats, natives, casual travelers and backpackers.

My most fervent research has been about what I, as a foreign white woman, should wear while in India. Shorts? Nope. Sleeveless tops? No way. Snug fitting tops? Nope. A Bikini at the beach? No, unless in Goa. Since others have encountered the same limits, they have kindly posted alternatives such as the (no joke) Burquini. Which is basically a burqua that one can swim in. I think I'll pass on this one...

http://www.ahiida.com/index.php?a=subcats&cat=20

It has been highly recommended that western women try wearing a salwar kameez while in India. It is a long, loose, tunic type shirt (the kameez), worn with pants (salwar) and a scarf called a dupatta. They are said to be extremely comfortable and very cool in hot weather. This seems like something I'd be willing to wear:
http://www.cbazaar.com/salwar-kameez/casual-style/c-sb.html#prdtype_fq!salwar kameez|prdtype_fq!Salwar Kameez|&pno:1&sb:-1dintid=22649
Prices in India range from inexpensive to reasonable and it's also not expensive to have a salwar kameez custom made. Tempting, tempting...

From the backpackers, one item someone mentioned not wanting to go to India without was the shewee. http://www.shewee.com/ I don't think I'll be shelling out the money for that one...yet.

There are only a few weeks until I step foot on Indian soil for the first time. I imagine that's when my panic will really begin.

Use up, not stock up

I guess reality is starting to set in. We have applied for our Indian visas, and we are planning a 'look and see' trip in a few weeks. I guess we're actually going to go to India. The reality is taking up residence in my brain and making me plan ahead, which is a good thing. I was shopping at Sam's Club a while ago and had to restrain myself from stocking up on things. The little voice in my head said "No Meigan, we don't need: 4 more jars of peanut butter, 6 more jars of pasta sauce, 4 huge boxes of edamame.... You've got some at home right now...Use that up first!!!" I think I actually spoke outloud "Yeah, you're right".

So now the mentality is: "Use it up!" Exploring the depths of my cupboards & freezer is becoming a workout for my imagination. Canned pumpkin became cream of pumpkin soup. Cranberries?...hmm I might just have to eat those right out of the can. The real problem is what to do with those things I bought that only I will eat. I have 3 cans of canneloni beans and no ideas. So much for stocking up on things. If only everything you bought came with a recipe. Maybe we'll have to host a 'going away pot-luck' where I supply all of the food.

Note to self....

Next time you're going to shake up a bottle of something (e.g. medicine) make sure the cap is on tight first. I looked like an extra during the prom scene of "Carrie" tonight, and so did my kitchen.

:(

Less is More in 2009

A new year needs a new motto. Rather than coming up with a resolution that is sure to be forgotten in a few weeks, I've decided on a motto: "Be Content with Less". With wallets tightening, and our impending stay in a 3rd world country, where extreme poverty is unsurprising and common, these seem like wise words for us to live by.