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.