Meet Oso, the newest addition to our family! Oso is a 4-week old, yellow/blonde lab with a pink nose. The boys named him Oso, Spanish for bear.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Gandhi Jayanti Assembly
Gandhi Jayanti is observed every year as a national holiday on October 2. Normally school would be closed, but this year October 2, was on Sunday. Gandhi was honored at a school assembly Friday morning. Grade levels participated in various ways. Domenic's class performed a skit based on Gandhi's earlier years. Below are some pictures taken before and during the performance.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
4 Months in 4 Paragraphs
It's been almost 4 months since adding a post! I keep telling myself that as soon as I get caught up, or as soon as my life slows down, I will update my blog. That will never happen. And would I really want it that way?
July- Our visit to Camano Island was fast and furious. Each day was packed but we managed to cross off an unbelievable amount of tasks from an endless list and had so much fun along the way. The shining moment, of course, was July 16! Our wedding day was magical and better than I could have imagined. Thank you friends and family for showering us with love and happiness. After our wedding, Seth and I departed to Lake Louise in Alberta, Canada where the weather was anything but nice. It snowed and rained, but we had a wonderful time hiking, river rafting, eating, drinking, and playing cards. A week later we were back on the Island, packing our bags and heading to Seattle for the long journey back to India and our new house.
August- Teachers were required to report to work on August 1, and students on August 8. I have 17 students, most of them ESL. They are young, cute, full of zest, and keep me on my toes! Domenic started 4th grade. It's been a big jump, academically, but he is adjusting well. His biggest complaint is all the homework, but overall he likes his studies.
September- It took us nearly a month to adjust to the rhythm of work and school, but we managed. September is the month where volunteers from AISC begin their visits to one of the local orphanages here in Chennai. Seth, Dom, and I go once a week to the House of Hope. House of Hope was established after the 2004 tsunami. It's a great family activity and the best way to show Domenic just how privileged we are to live the life we do. We also celebrated Ganesha Chaturthi, the birthday of Lord Ganesha. This is a Hindu celebration lasting 10 days. Models of Lord Ganesha are made from clay or plaster of paris and on the 11th day, the statues are taken through the streets, with singing and dancing, to the sea where they are immersed in water, symbolizing a "see-off" for the Lord. The beaches were wild. India loves to celebrate!
October- I can't believe we are in October already. It's baseball season and this year we stepped back into the 21st Century, getting a nice TV, cable, and DVR. We have been recording the games and watching them at our leisure. The last week in October is a scheduled holiday. We get one week off. This year the 3 of us will be going to Cambodia with a brief stay in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
July- Our visit to Camano Island was fast and furious. Each day was packed but we managed to cross off an unbelievable amount of tasks from an endless list and had so much fun along the way. The shining moment, of course, was July 16! Our wedding day was magical and better than I could have imagined. Thank you friends and family for showering us with love and happiness. After our wedding, Seth and I departed to Lake Louise in Alberta, Canada where the weather was anything but nice. It snowed and rained, but we had a wonderful time hiking, river rafting, eating, drinking, and playing cards. A week later we were back on the Island, packing our bags and heading to Seattle for the long journey back to India and our new house.
Lola, Colleen, Marianne, Carlina, Adrienne, Dorcy, Kristin
August- Teachers were required to report to work on August 1, and students on August 8. I have 17 students, most of them ESL. They are young, cute, full of zest, and keep me on my toes! Domenic started 4th grade. It's been a big jump, academically, but he is adjusting well. His biggest complaint is all the homework, but overall he likes his studies.
First Day of School, August 8, 2011
September- It took us nearly a month to adjust to the rhythm of work and school, but we managed. September is the month where volunteers from AISC begin their visits to one of the local orphanages here in Chennai. Seth, Dom, and I go once a week to the House of Hope. House of Hope was established after the 2004 tsunami. It's a great family activity and the best way to show Domenic just how privileged we are to live the life we do. We also celebrated Ganesha Chaturthi, the birthday of Lord Ganesha. This is a Hindu celebration lasting 10 days. Models of Lord Ganesha are made from clay or plaster of paris and on the 11th day, the statues are taken through the streets, with singing and dancing, to the sea where they are immersed in water, symbolizing a "see-off" for the Lord. The beaches were wild. India loves to celebrate!
Domenic and Lord Ganesha
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
3, 2, 1
What a monumental year this has been for all of us! In 3 short days we fly back to America, completing our first year living abroad. I am up to my eyeballs (literally) in boxes. We are on a packing frenzy over here. The last day of school is Friday, June 10, and that evening we will be heading to the airport. Most of the contents of my classroom need to be boxed up. This will enable the custodial staff and painters to do their jobs without all of the clutter. At the same time, we are either packing or boxing all of our personal belongings at home. We spent our first year living in an apartment and although it was nice, we quickly outgrew it. Last Monday we requested a house and by Wednesday it was confirmed we could move. It’s rare, but sometimes things really do move along in a timely fashion. The house is 2.5 kilometers, or 1.5 miles, south of where we currently live and where Dorcy, our favorite neighbor, will continue to reside. Just as before, we are only a block from the beach, meaning we can still go for walks and jogs along the water. There are people living in the house until the end of June at which time the school will move us. I put together a Smilebox of photos taken during our walkthrough. The only significant difference, per my request, will be the removal of the fluorescent lighting and instillation of a stove and oven. People just don’t bake around here? You will notice the kitchen doesn’t compliment the rest of the house. Unlike in America where we build our homes around a functioning kitchen, in India the kitchen is intended for the hired staff and therefore not a room suited for congregating. We certainly are not complaining, but rather celebrating and feeling very fortunate.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Only 49 Days!!
In less than 2 months we will be flying back to Washington for summer vacation. It is hard to believe that the first school year is almost complete. We are back in school now after a 2-week spring break. For all the teachers out there, you know how fast the days go by once you return from the break.
I spent the first week of vacation in Thailand where I attended the NESA conference for teachers in Bangkok. My childhood friends, Kristin and Adrienne, met me there and what fun we had! We burned the candles at both ends, seeing as much of Bangkok as possible and after the conference we fly to Phuket for more of the same.
The week flew by and I headed back to India. It was great to see Domenic and Seth again. I unpacked my bags, did some laundry, repacked, and the 3 of us headed back to the airport, this time for Sri Lanka. Sri Lanka is only a 55 minute flight from Chennai. The only downside is it's out of the country, meaning immigration line after line. We spent over two hours waiting in lines before boarding the plane, but it was well worth it.
Sri Lanka is beautiful. We stayed at a small beach resort and aside from the 3 hour drive to the Elephant Orphanage, we limited our sightseeing to short treks near the resort. We went on a catamaran ride which was great fun, but definitely reflective of a "laid-back" country where safety standards are optional. Domenic's life jacket was size TooSmall and the zipper didn't even work. The catamaran was homemade and looked to be held together by knotted ropes and one of the men on board was stationed full-time in one spot, bailing water out of the hull. We have been living in India long enough that there was something oddly comforting about the experience. Two days later, we were back for a second tour.
I spent the first week of vacation in Thailand where I attended the NESA conference for teachers in Bangkok. My childhood friends, Kristin and Adrienne, met me there and what fun we had! We burned the candles at both ends, seeing as much of Bangkok as possible and after the conference we fly to Phuket for more of the same.
Carlina, Kristin, Adrienne
Reclining Buddha
elephant trek
Sri Lanka is beautiful. We stayed at a small beach resort and aside from the 3 hour drive to the Elephant Orphanage, we limited our sightseeing to short treks near the resort. We went on a catamaran ride which was great fun, but definitely reflective of a "laid-back" country where safety standards are optional. Domenic's life jacket was size TooSmall and the zipper didn't even work. The catamaran was homemade and looked to be held together by knotted ropes and one of the men on board was stationed full-time in one spot, bailing water out of the hull. We have been living in India long enough that there was something oddly comforting about the experience. Two days later, we were back for a second tour.
elephant orphanage
catamaran
Domenic
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
What are you doing for the break?
I am 3 days into my two-week spring break and sitting in a technology class at the NESA Spring Conference in Bangkok. Next stop, Phuket, then Chennai, then Negombo. Before I departed I asked my students and parents where they would be spending their holiday.
Dubai
Spain
London
Nepal
Cambodia
Bali
Thailand
Goa
Korea
Sri Lanka
Philippines
France
China
Cancelled trip to Japan (boo), instead going to Bangkok
Sweden
What a fortunate group! Wow.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Seth Goes West, I Leave East, and All Three Depart South
Seth left late Thursday night for San Francisco. He will be in San Francisco 7 days, but gone for 10. Wow, India is far away! Sunday marked the 6 month anniversary of his arrival to India. Translation—your time is up! He flew to San Francisco to renew his visa, making it possible for him to stay the remainder of the school year, and because he is currently a resident of Washington State, the Travisa Outsourcing in San Francisco is his jurisdiction. You might recall, this is the same institution Domenic and I obtained (or almost didn’t) our India visas in July. Six months of India-Livin’ is all it took to know what to do. Seth had an appointment first thing Monday morning. In he walked, armed with a plethora of paperwork and documents. Fifteen minutes later and some words of admiration, “Wow, you are thorough!” Seth was given the nod of approval to come back the next day for his new visa. Phew.
When Seth arrives home, we will have about 10 days together before it’s my turn to depart. I will be attending the Spring Educator’s Conference in Bangkok. This is a professional development opportunity available through the school. The application process involves a brief proposal and cost analysis. Upon approval, individuals are awarded the cost of registration, round-trip tickets, hotel accommodations, and per diem. Not a bad deal, right? In return, those of us attending will “pay” the school back by sharing what we have learned. This can be done by offering a class during one of our professional development days throughout the year. I feel very lucky to be attending. The conference is only 3 ½ days so the remaining week will be spent in Phuket. My childhood friends, Kristin and Adrienne, are flying over for a vacation of their own. Once the week is over, I will say my good-byes, fly back to India, unpack and repack. Seth, Domenic and I are departing the following day to Sri Lanka for the remainder of spring break.
The next flight we take will be in June when we return to Washington for our summer visit.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Puke-Cow
It’s a known fact; there are many cows in India. In an average day, one can easily spy cows causally strolling down a neighborhood road, snacking on trash from one of the many overflowing dumpsters, crossing through rush hour traffic without a care in the world, and sprawling out in the center of the busiest roads.
We see cows so often they have become invisible to us. This was true until the day we encountered Puke-Cow. Puke-Cow is the resident cow at the local wine shop, a mascot if you will. He spends his days lumbering around the premise and keeping time with the local bar-flies (literally and figuratively). As humans we don’t routinely do something unless the payoff is worth it. It’s no different with Puke-Cow. He hangs out at the wine shop waiting for his meal to be delivered to him at his feet, all the puke he can eat! He was officially granted this name the day Seth arrived, order in hand, and was unable to enter. Standing at the entrance, and feasting on a freshly delivered meal, was Puke-Cow. He lifted his head, a string of slime connecting his mouth to the ground, and eyed Seth as if to say, “Get your own meal. This one is mine.”
Hmm? A convenient coincidence cows are sacred and therefore not eaten?
You might be wondering what type of an establishment would allow such a resident? The wine shops here are putrid, and sadly the only places to buy alcohol. The building looks like a shack. It’s filthy with a dirt floor and when it rains, a cesspool of diseases creates a moat around the entrance. It’s difficult to imagine such a sight so I have included some pictures. The only element missing is the smell. Sorry.
The wine shops are something I never set foot into. Seth has been granted the honors and when he comes home I can be heard shouting, “Do not put those bottles in the fridge, freezer, or elsewhere without disinfecting them. To the sink they go!!!!”
Monday, February 28, 2011
Celebrations and Congratulations; India style
We have only lived here a short while, but have been lucky enough to develop some lasting friendships. The news of our engagement was a joyous occasion for many and a perfect excuse for a celebration. The parents of my students surprised Seth and I with a party in the class. Sixteen of the seventeen mothers attended. There was cake, gifts, and cards. Pretty special.
Dorcy, bless her heart, took it upon herself to organize a fantastic event to be held outside of school hours, on the rooftop of our apartment building. Over 60 people attended. There was plenty of alcohol, tasty food, and dancing. Our good friend, Priya, also took it upon herself to do a bit of organizing of her own. The Indian attire in the photos is Priya’s influence; something I can’t thank her enough for. We never would have dressed the part without her enthusiasm and navigational skills; a must when shopping in India.
A few weeks prior to the event, we made friends with a local photographer. For a small fee he was hired to take photos. It’s amazing what a skilled photographer can capture when equipped with a functioning camera and a quality lens. I am sure you will feel the same after viewing the Smilebox.
The next day I went to my scheduled appointment with the endodontist to have oral surgery and remove the infection around the root of my front tooth. Thank God the medical world here operates NOthing like the rest of the country. I was in good hands. The infection was removed and a bone graft performed. I left stitched up, swollen and feeling nauseated. Some people can handle the dentist. I’m not one of them. I may have been numbed up, but my hearing was superb. Not only did I have to listen to the play-by-play of what was happening (yes, in English), but I also heard the grinding, cutting, drilling and whatever else. Blech.
As I type this, it’s been 3 days after the party, Monday, and I am home from school. I made a gallant attempt to attend work, but one look at my swollen face had people questioning, “What happened? Why are you here? You need to go home.” Somehow I needed to hear this from my colleagues. For all those teachers out there reading this, you will know exactly what I mean!
Dorcy, bless her heart, took it upon herself to organize a fantastic event to be held outside of school hours, on the rooftop of our apartment building. Over 60 people attended. There was plenty of alcohol, tasty food, and dancing. Our good friend, Priya, also took it upon herself to do a bit of organizing of her own. The Indian attire in the photos is Priya’s influence; something I can’t thank her enough for. We never would have dressed the part without her enthusiasm and navigational skills; a must when shopping in India.
A few weeks prior to the event, we made friends with a local photographer. For a small fee he was hired to take photos. It’s amazing what a skilled photographer can capture when equipped with a functioning camera and a quality lens. I am sure you will feel the same after viewing the Smilebox.
The next day I went to my scheduled appointment with the endodontist to have oral surgery and remove the infection around the root of my front tooth. Thank God the medical world here operates NOthing like the rest of the country. I was in good hands. The infection was removed and a bone graft performed. I left stitched up, swollen and feeling nauseated. Some people can handle the dentist. I’m not one of them. I may have been numbed up, but my hearing was superb. Not only did I have to listen to the play-by-play of what was happening (yes, in English), but I also heard the grinding, cutting, drilling and whatever else. Blech.
As I type this, it’s been 3 days after the party, Monday, and I am home from school. I made a gallant attempt to attend work, but one look at my swollen face had people questioning, “What happened? Why are you here? You need to go home.” Somehow I needed to hear this from my colleagues. For all those teachers out there reading this, you will know exactly what I mean!
Delayed Planes, No Trains, and Too Much Time in an Automobile
Seth and I flew North in pursuit of the Taj Mahal, officially one of the New 7 Wonders of the World. We returned home exhausted, after what can safely be defined as a typical Indian experience, and wondering how this country functions at all?
Domenic had already been to the Taj, so he stayed with some friends for the weekend and had what I am positive was a restful and relaxing weekend if compared to our fiasco. We were scheduled to depart on a 2.5 hour flight to Delhi, Friday night and return Sunday night; a simple weekend jaunt, or so we foolishly thought!
We arrived to the Chennai airport on time, but that didn’t mean the flight departed on time. Flights to Delhi are notorious for being late. As we sat in the most boring of airports world-wide, we read our itinerary more thoroughly and noticed our return flight was at 6:30 AM, not 6:30 PM like we thought! So much for reading military time. Super.
The time had come to finally board the plane. After waiting, and waiting, and waiting…..it was our turn. “Sorry, you cannot enter. The tag on your laptop bag is missing a stamp.” Off I ran to stand in a line for a magical stamp that would allow me to stand in another line for approval to enter the line for the shuttle which would take us to the final line, the steps leading into the plane. The flight was pretty much par for the course and a foreshadowing of the weekend.
“Would you like something to drink?” questioned the friendly flight attendant.
“I’ll have a Sprite.” (NO alcohol served, darn)
“I’m not sure we have Sprite. I’ll have to check.” (Check means after everyone has been served and if she remembers. They never remember.)
“How about a Coke then?”
“I’m not sure we have Coke. I’ll have to check.”
“Okay, can I have a cup of black tea?”
“That would take a very long time.” Of course it will.
Since the beverage cart was toppling over with bottled water, I decided to make it simple.
“Can I have a bottle of water please?”
“Sure!” But true to India style, pulling a bottle off the cart right in front of her was just too simple and efficient. Out she shouted to the front of the plane for a miniature bottle, containing about a half-cup of water. Insufficient to quench the thirst I had worked up just trying to get a drink.
The beverage cart pushed on and I headed toward the restroom in the rear of the plane. As I was walking back to my seat I saw what was sitting on everyone’s tray table, Coke, Sprite…Coke, Coke, Sprite, Sprite, Coke…… Grrrrr
The plane was descending and the wheels on the plane still bouncing off the tarmac when we heard clicking, the result of hundreds of seatbelts unsnapping. Now all of a sudden everyone is in a hurry. While the plane was roaring down the runway, several passengers took it upon themselves to open the overhead bins only to be greeted by luggage cascading down (luggage that may have shifted during the flight-duh).
The next morning we headed to Agra, home of the Taj, and naïve to what awaited us. From Delhi to Agra is 203 km or 126 miles. It took us 6.5 hours to get there. Terrible. Eventually we rolled into town, and picked up our tour guide who sadly notified us, “The Taj has just been closed for the day!!!”
I looked at Seth and said, “For the first time, I hate this country.” Foreign Ministers and heads of delegations of the Least Developed Countries were in town; perfectly acceptable reason to close the Taj Mahal on a moments notice, after all, this is India, a country void of rules and regulations.
Now what? Our luggage was back in Delhi and we were scheduled to leave at the crack of dawn. I told Seth that I was absolutely NOT leaving without seeing the Taj Mahal. I refused to go home having only seen the back seat of a taxi, and the bathrooms along the way; dusty shrubs on the side of the road. We went to a local travel agent, booked new tickets to return Sunday night and a hotel room in Agra. After a very nice dinner at the Oberoi Hotel, we retired for the night, sans toothbrushes, make-up, fresh clothes and clean underwear.
We awoke to crisp clean air and a nice sunrise. Straight to the Taj we went and into the long queue for security clearance. There were two lines, one for men and one for women. The men’s line was advancing at lightning speed while the women’s line seemed to be moving backwards. I cut in front of about 120 people in a fruitless attempt to reach Seth, but nothing could slow the men down and I figured risking injury by cutting in line a second time probably wasn’t a good idea. It took about 25 minutes before I was finally patted down. “My turn” couldn’t have come soon enough. I was about ready to strip down to nothing just to avoid another minute in line. Finally, finally, finally, we got to see the Taj. Was it worth it? ABSOLUTELY!!
To view this structure up close and to walk on the premise was breathtaking. After getting our fill, we journeyed back to Delhi. We must have gotten lucky because this time it only took 5 hours to travel 126 miles. Next time we will take the train. Oh wait—I vowed there would never be a next time.
It was a long and exhausting weekend, but our mission was accomplished. I think it’s safe to say we spent the same amount of our net worth seeing the Taj Mahal as the Shah did building it. Phew!
Domenic had already been to the Taj, so he stayed with some friends for the weekend and had what I am positive was a restful and relaxing weekend if compared to our fiasco. We were scheduled to depart on a 2.5 hour flight to Delhi, Friday night and return Sunday night; a simple weekend jaunt, or so we foolishly thought!
We arrived to the Chennai airport on time, but that didn’t mean the flight departed on time. Flights to Delhi are notorious for being late. As we sat in the most boring of airports world-wide, we read our itinerary more thoroughly and noticed our return flight was at 6:30 AM, not 6:30 PM like we thought! So much for reading military time. Super.
The time had come to finally board the plane. After waiting, and waiting, and waiting…..it was our turn. “Sorry, you cannot enter. The tag on your laptop bag is missing a stamp.” Off I ran to stand in a line for a magical stamp that would allow me to stand in another line for approval to enter the line for the shuttle which would take us to the final line, the steps leading into the plane. The flight was pretty much par for the course and a foreshadowing of the weekend.
“Would you like something to drink?” questioned the friendly flight attendant.
“I’ll have a Sprite.” (NO alcohol served, darn)
“I’m not sure we have Sprite. I’ll have to check.” (Check means after everyone has been served and if she remembers. They never remember.)
“How about a Coke then?”
“I’m not sure we have Coke. I’ll have to check.”
“Okay, can I have a cup of black tea?”
“That would take a very long time.” Of course it will.
Since the beverage cart was toppling over with bottled water, I decided to make it simple.
“Can I have a bottle of water please?”
“Sure!” But true to India style, pulling a bottle off the cart right in front of her was just too simple and efficient. Out she shouted to the front of the plane for a miniature bottle, containing about a half-cup of water. Insufficient to quench the thirst I had worked up just trying to get a drink.
The beverage cart pushed on and I headed toward the restroom in the rear of the plane. As I was walking back to my seat I saw what was sitting on everyone’s tray table, Coke, Sprite…Coke, Coke, Sprite, Sprite, Coke…… Grrrrr
The plane was descending and the wheels on the plane still bouncing off the tarmac when we heard clicking, the result of hundreds of seatbelts unsnapping. Now all of a sudden everyone is in a hurry. While the plane was roaring down the runway, several passengers took it upon themselves to open the overhead bins only to be greeted by luggage cascading down (luggage that may have shifted during the flight-duh).
The next morning we headed to Agra, home of the Taj, and naïve to what awaited us. From Delhi to Agra is 203 km or 126 miles. It took us 6.5 hours to get there. Terrible. Eventually we rolled into town, and picked up our tour guide who sadly notified us, “The Taj has just been closed for the day!!!”
I looked at Seth and said, “For the first time, I hate this country.” Foreign Ministers and heads of delegations of the Least Developed Countries were in town; perfectly acceptable reason to close the Taj Mahal on a moments notice, after all, this is India, a country void of rules and regulations.
Now what? Our luggage was back in Delhi and we were scheduled to leave at the crack of dawn. I told Seth that I was absolutely NOT leaving without seeing the Taj Mahal. I refused to go home having only seen the back seat of a taxi, and the bathrooms along the way; dusty shrubs on the side of the road. We went to a local travel agent, booked new tickets to return Sunday night and a hotel room in Agra. After a very nice dinner at the Oberoi Hotel, we retired for the night, sans toothbrushes, make-up, fresh clothes and clean underwear.
We awoke to crisp clean air and a nice sunrise. Straight to the Taj we went and into the long queue for security clearance. There were two lines, one for men and one for women. The men’s line was advancing at lightning speed while the women’s line seemed to be moving backwards. I cut in front of about 120 people in a fruitless attempt to reach Seth, but nothing could slow the men down and I figured risking injury by cutting in line a second time probably wasn’t a good idea. It took about 25 minutes before I was finally patted down. “My turn” couldn’t have come soon enough. I was about ready to strip down to nothing just to avoid another minute in line. Finally, finally, finally, we got to see the Taj. Was it worth it? ABSOLUTELY!!
To view this structure up close and to walk on the premise was breathtaking. After getting our fill, we journeyed back to Delhi. We must have gotten lucky because this time it only took 5 hours to travel 126 miles. Next time we will take the train. Oh wait—I vowed there would never be a next time.
It was a long and exhausting weekend, but our mission was accomplished. I think it’s safe to say we spent the same amount of our net worth seeing the Taj Mahal as the Shah did building it. Phew!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Never a Dull Moment in India
Domenic has been home for a day and a half and boy did I miss him. He didn’t arrive until the middle of the night but we stayed wide awake just waiting and waiting and waiting until finally we heard the rattling of the downstairs gate. OMG….they are here!!! Down the stairs we zoomed to greet Dorcy and Domenic who were on the other side of the fence still trying to shake the gate open. Might I remind you that we have a paid security guard on duty, sleeping so soundly, that the ruckus caused from trying to pry open the iron gates wasn’t even enough to shake him out of dreamland and back into reality. Don’t we feel super-safe.
The initial embrace was just like in the movies, long, strong, and dramatic. Domenic and Seth rode the elevator, packed to the weight limit with guilty pleasures from America, while Dorcy and I hiked on foot, one step at a time to the 4th floor. It took all of 60 seconds before the contents of the bags exploded in every direction, blanketing the freshly cleaned floors. We were all but on our hands and knees rummaging through bags and clothes in search of the lifelines that were to sustain us till June when we returned home for a visit; a desperate picture at best. We looked as if we had been stranded on a desert island for 6 months waiting for the cargo ship to port. With enough persistence we were able to locate our treasures; See’s dark chocolate—is there anything better?, Starbucks Christmas blend coffee—good coffee is harder to find than you’d expect, refined white flour—Seth is in dire need of a carrot cake, brown sugar—the only way to enjoy the taste of oatmeal, feather mattress pad—it’s a toss-up between the marble floor and the mattress for comfort, Timewise lotion from Mary Kay (how else do you think Seth retains his beauty)?, Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum—to help keep our local Indian connection motivated, and much, much more.
It’s Saturday night and all is quiet on the home front; really quiet, I’m the only one awake. Jetlag has finally caught up with Domenic and he is sleeping peacefully in our bed where Seth is also sleeping, but not so peacefully. He’s been down for the count since early this morning with horrible intestinal cramps. Identifying the source of the pain can be most simply summed up in one word—INDIA. No matter how careful you are, it takes time to adapt to this country. With the exception of Domenic (knock on wood) we’ve all had our bouts. I was just too sick to blog about my own illnesses, vomiting, and trips to the doctor and hospital (although the hospital visit was definitely blogworthy.) I burned through my sick days so rapidly that at one point I thought I might have to start paying the school to work here. After several months I’m beginning to get acclimated.
Dorcy and I ordered pizza for dinner from a little Italian place down the street and around the corner. The pizza there is actually very good. The crust is thin, NY style, and fired in a brick oven. We ordered two vegetarian pizzas; much safer that way. The delivery guy showed up, pizzas in hand, and a bill for half the price than the last time we placed the same order. Nothing is standard or consistent around this place. We put Domenic’s slices aside and dragged Seth out of bed to eat before taking some medicine. One of the pizzas had a cockroach camouflaged in the toppings—super gross. Seth was given the honors of disposing the meat topping from our vegetarian pizza. I then served Seth a piece of Siciliana pizza, “Here, this one is less cockroachy and probably easier on your digestive system.” Thanks.
I’ve been checking on the boys. Domenic is still out like a light and looking awfully comfortable. Just how chameleons change colors to blend in with their surroundings, Domenic changes sizes to accommodate his space. Our bed is large and he is taking up all but a small sliver on the edge of the bed where Seth is hanging on. The last time I checked, the only request from Seth, “Unwrangle him please, I can’t breathe.”
The initial embrace was just like in the movies, long, strong, and dramatic. Domenic and Seth rode the elevator, packed to the weight limit with guilty pleasures from America, while Dorcy and I hiked on foot, one step at a time to the 4th floor. It took all of 60 seconds before the contents of the bags exploded in every direction, blanketing the freshly cleaned floors. We were all but on our hands and knees rummaging through bags and clothes in search of the lifelines that were to sustain us till June when we returned home for a visit; a desperate picture at best. We looked as if we had been stranded on a desert island for 6 months waiting for the cargo ship to port. With enough persistence we were able to locate our treasures; See’s dark chocolate—is there anything better?, Starbucks Christmas blend coffee—good coffee is harder to find than you’d expect, refined white flour—Seth is in dire need of a carrot cake, brown sugar—the only way to enjoy the taste of oatmeal, feather mattress pad—it’s a toss-up between the marble floor and the mattress for comfort, Timewise lotion from Mary Kay (how else do you think Seth retains his beauty)?, Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum—to help keep our local Indian connection motivated, and much, much more.
It’s Saturday night and all is quiet on the home front; really quiet, I’m the only one awake. Jetlag has finally caught up with Domenic and he is sleeping peacefully in our bed where Seth is also sleeping, but not so peacefully. He’s been down for the count since early this morning with horrible intestinal cramps. Identifying the source of the pain can be most simply summed up in one word—INDIA. No matter how careful you are, it takes time to adapt to this country. With the exception of Domenic (knock on wood) we’ve all had our bouts. I was just too sick to blog about my own illnesses, vomiting, and trips to the doctor and hospital (although the hospital visit was definitely blogworthy.) I burned through my sick days so rapidly that at one point I thought I might have to start paying the school to work here. After several months I’m beginning to get acclimated.
Dorcy and I ordered pizza for dinner from a little Italian place down the street and around the corner. The pizza there is actually very good. The crust is thin, NY style, and fired in a brick oven. We ordered two vegetarian pizzas; much safer that way. The delivery guy showed up, pizzas in hand, and a bill for half the price than the last time we placed the same order. Nothing is standard or consistent around this place. We put Domenic’s slices aside and dragged Seth out of bed to eat before taking some medicine. One of the pizzas had a cockroach camouflaged in the toppings—super gross. Seth was given the honors of disposing the meat topping from our vegetarian pizza. I then served Seth a piece of Siciliana pizza, “Here, this one is less cockroachy and probably easier on your digestive system.” Thanks.
I’ve been checking on the boys. Domenic is still out like a light and looking awfully comfortable. Just how chameleons change colors to blend in with their surroundings, Domenic changes sizes to accommodate his space. Our bed is large and he is taking up all but a small sliver on the edge of the bed where Seth is hanging on. The last time I checked, the only request from Seth, “Unwrangle him please, I can’t breathe.”
Friday, January 7, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Unexpected Departures, Food Poisoning, Infections, Vacationing—another month in India!
Unexpected Departure and Food Poisoning
It is evident by the heading that the month of December was packed with activity, much of which was unwanted and unforeseen. The kick-off to the month was arranging for Domenic to fly back to Washington State, without me, on a moment’s notice and 14 days earlier than planned, adding up to a grand total of 34 days apart. GULP! The original plan had Domenic departing to the States without me and traveling with Dorcy, but for only 20 days which was terrifying enough for me. The phone call that precipitated this change in events came in Friday morning, December 3, from Dorcy’s husband, Paul. He was calling to notify Dorcy that her mother was very ill and not getting better, making it too risky to wait an additional 2 weeks before flying home. Since Domenic’s “ride” to the States was with Dorcy, we had no other choice than to change his tickets to the next available flight, later that night. GULP! I took the afternoon off work to gather travel documents and to pack. I felt awful inside.
I grabbed a huge suitcase, stuffed another empty suitcase inside, placed the Christmas gifts next, and tossed a pile of socks, underwear, and t-shirts on top before zipping the luggage closed. With such short notice, the only warm clothing Domenic had was a light sweatshirt his Auntie purchased a week prior on their trip to Delhi. It’s a good thing my evaluation as a mother isn’t based solely on that pack job or I would fail miserably.
The knock on the door came all too soon. It was the car to take Dorcy and Domenic to the airport. O-boy. Here we go. Down the 4 flights of stairs we went and out into the dark, wet, rainy night. When the time came for the final hug, Domenic burst into tears. “I don’t want to go. I’ve never been away from you this long. I’ve never been on a different continent than you.” One long, strong hug and some reassuring words and Domenic was good to go. I stood on the sidewalk and watched the car fade into the darkness. Then it was my turn. I sobbed buckets of tears all the way upstairs and into our bedroom where Seth was curled up in the fetal position, shaking with a high fever and agonizing in pain. He had a horrible case of food poisoning that was getting progressively worse throughout the day. The culprit? Bad milk. The milk here is pasteurized but it still needs to be boiled before drinking it. Even then, the shelf time is quite limited. I don’t drink milk in India.
As it turns out, saying good-bye was the hardest part. Once I was able to speak to Domenic, State-side, and hear his lovely voice, I felt a huge sense of relief. Dorcy reported that Domenic’s good-bye tears dried up by the time the car reached the top of our road. Music to my ears. The flight was long and they had to transfer planes in Brussels where the weather was frigid. Passengers were bundled up in wool clothing with steam coming from their mouths. Dorcy informed me that most people were looking at her, traveling with an underdressed child, as though she was the most negligent mother in the world, to which I responded, “Better you than me.” I’m a super friend. The next stop was JFK for a 6-hour layover. My sister met them at the airport with sushi (per Dom’s request), one of Domenic’s buddies and warm clothes in hand.
It has been a month since Domenic left and he will be home soon. He’s a brave little soul and did better than could be expected. Dorcy made it back in time to be with her mother and make arrangements for the future.
Infections
Seth recovered from his wicked case of food poisoning late afternoon the next day, vowing to never drink milk in India. Smart choice. We attended the school Christmas party a week later which would be unrecognizable if compared to the staff Christmas parties back at home. The venue was a 5-star restaurant with a full dinner and dessert buffet, open bar, music, and lots of dancing, resembling a wedding reception more than anything. We dressed in our formal/elegant attire and headed out for an enjoyable evening.
The following day, Saturday, Seth’s left eye started to bother him. It looked a bit red and irritated; the beginning of an eye stye. Sunday came and the redness was more evident and the pain increasing. Monday morning Seth pulled the lower lid down for us to take a peek inside. There was definitely a sore on the inside lid. Still this wasn’t enough to motivate Seth to see a doctor. Monday evening came and in a matter of 20 minutes it looked as if someone had used purple eye liner and drew a thick line under his eye. He departed to the pharmacy for some antibiotic eye drops (remember, no prescriptions needed here) and promising to see a doctor first thing tomorrow! The promise turned out to a necessity. Tuesday morning it looked as if someone had punched him in the eye; black and blue. Now will you go???
While I was at work, Seth navigated himself to the nearest clinic. “I was in and out in ten minutes,” as he says. And? The doctor took one look and knew immediately what it was, an eye stye. He called his nurse in the room to assist with the procedure of draining the cyst. Seth said they carried on a discussion in Tamil for a few minutes before getting down to work, ignorance is bliss they say. However, apparently not all words can be spoken in Tamil, like the words, “eye” and “needle.” Yep, pretty gross. The black and blue was caused from the infection not being able to drain. Strange things happen to people in India. They lowered the needle to the cyst and upon insertion, blood and puss came spurting out. He was handed a cotton ball, sent to pay his bill and given a list of antibiotics to purchase. The office visit, combined with the antibiotics totaled less than $5.00 USD.
Vacationing
As noted before, we did not go back to the States for Christmas. We had a nice long break, 3 weeks, where some time was spent on the Andaman Islands. The Andaman Islands are owned by India and only a 2.5 hour flight from Chennai. The weather report promised a week of rain, thunder, and lightening, how lovely. As luck would have it, the only water we saw falling from the sky was a light mist during our 2.5 hour ferry ride from Port Blair to Havelock Island. The rest of the stay was beautiful. We stayed at a nice little resort on Havelock Island, Symphony Palms. Our days were spent snorkeling, reading, playing cards, eating, drinking, swimming, and exploring the island, but only after Seth turned in his last two homework assignments online. The only Internet access on the island was conveniently located across the street at the Internet café; a straw hut with dial up service. It only took an hour to upload 2 assignments. Bravo for technology!
The following day we went snorkeling. We had strict orders to be ready by 7:00 am for pick-up. Remarkably enough the cab service was on time. We were driven 50 yards to our destination spot (really? Had we know), and proceeded to be shuffled around in disorganized chaos until 9:00 am when we were rushed to the boat. The boat looked like a row boat with a closed bow and a motor attached to the back. Nine of us were shoved into the boat and the gear was loaded only to discover we still needed gas. Typical. Without a care in the world, the can was lifted into the boat, with gas sloshing out of the can, into the boat and all over some poor girl’s feet and legs. This type of christening must happen to all the tourists because not one Indian blinked an eye, offered to wash it off, or even looked slightly apologetic. I was having flashbacks to my earlier days in Mexico. Leaving the shore was more difficult than need be. We were bumping and banging into the anchored boats surrounding us. Seth crawled onto the bow of the boat to give us a massive shove. Even more shocking than the service up to this point was the fact that the fiberglass bowed enough to support Seth’s weight without snapping. Good thing too, because had he fallen through the bow, I’m certain the bottom of the boat would have given out entirely. By 10:00 am we were on our way.
The next day we wanted to go on a Jungle Trek, advertised at our resort on a large wooden sign in front of reception. As it turned out, not a person around knew anything about such a trek. Instead we rented a scooter for $5.00 USD a day and did some of our own exploring. Seth hopped on the back, put me in charge of scooting, and off we went with a teaspoon of gas in the tank. We passed by the gas station about 7 times before stopping at the only grocery store where gas could be purchased from a tin can in the back. Finally we were on our way to Radanagar Beach or Beach #7. Radanagar Beach was voted the number one beach in SE Asia; bold claim but enough to lure us there.
The beach was amazing. We spent a couple of nice days there, lounging around and taking walks. Down the beach and around the corner was a small cove, the scene of an awful tragedy in April. A young woman was eaten by a salt-water crocodile. Of course the tourist guide doesn’t advertise this and we only first heard about it before departure. The only display of caution came from a small sign, “Swimming and snorkeling not recommended here.” I should say not.
The stay at Havelock Island came to an end all too soon and off we went to Port Blair Island. We were greeted at the ferry landing by our driver; a young Indian man with an earring, a shiny black car, a keen sense of style, and flair for good music. We tore off down the street bumping to the tunes of Eminem. Maybe he thought we’d feel more at home listening to the vulgar lyrics chanted in English, and if truth be told, we did. “Stop at the liquor store before the airport,” we dictated knowing there couldn’t possibly be any judgment coming from this fine, young man. Liquor is super cheap on Port Blair and with the New Year approaching, it was a must.
We arrived to the airport on time, liquor securely stowed away in the suitcase. I went through security first and left Seth with the luggage full of booze just in case there was a problem. The shuttle to the plane arrived late. We were hurried along and told to be seated promptly because the runway at Chennai would be closing at 2:30 pm and if we arrived late, we wouldn’t be able to land. What kind of an airport closes the runway mid-day or ever for that matter? After listening to safety instructions in Tamil and then again in English, we were on our way, landing safely and on time.
New Years Eve and More Food Poisoning
The families at our apartment complex organized a New Years Eve party on the rooftop. We woke up New Years Eve day, ready to prep for the evening. While breakfast was cooking, Seth grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge, and polished it off in no time flat. Within 5 minutes Seth looked at me, turned around, and grabbed the empty yogurt cup from the trash to read the expiration date; December 11. Seriously, Seth? Just like the milk, yogurt is pasteurized here but the shelf time is short. And just like the milk, I don’t eat yogurt in India either. An hour later, noon by now, Seth was throwing up and going to the bathroom for the next 9 hours straight. The only time he got up, other than to use the bathroom, was to make a guest appearance on the rooftop, water cup in hand, a true indication of how sick he really was. The evening didn’t go as planned, but we still rung in the new year together which is all that really matters. By January 1, the only effect of the food poisoning was extreme dehydration. Several tall glasses of lemon water mixed with equal parts sugar and salt and he was good to go. I told Seth, in my most loving and caring of ways, since he is unable to read expiration dates, he is permanently banned from ALL dairy products in India with the exception of cheese and if I caught him trolling around the dairy in the stores there would be a heavy price to pay. Now both Seth and I do not drink milk, or eat yogurt in India.
It is evident by the heading that the month of December was packed with activity, much of which was unwanted and unforeseen. The kick-off to the month was arranging for Domenic to fly back to Washington State, without me, on a moment’s notice and 14 days earlier than planned, adding up to a grand total of 34 days apart. GULP! The original plan had Domenic departing to the States without me and traveling with Dorcy, but for only 20 days which was terrifying enough for me. The phone call that precipitated this change in events came in Friday morning, December 3, from Dorcy’s husband, Paul. He was calling to notify Dorcy that her mother was very ill and not getting better, making it too risky to wait an additional 2 weeks before flying home. Since Domenic’s “ride” to the States was with Dorcy, we had no other choice than to change his tickets to the next available flight, later that night. GULP! I took the afternoon off work to gather travel documents and to pack. I felt awful inside.
I grabbed a huge suitcase, stuffed another empty suitcase inside, placed the Christmas gifts next, and tossed a pile of socks, underwear, and t-shirts on top before zipping the luggage closed. With such short notice, the only warm clothing Domenic had was a light sweatshirt his Auntie purchased a week prior on their trip to Delhi. It’s a good thing my evaluation as a mother isn’t based solely on that pack job or I would fail miserably.
The knock on the door came all too soon. It was the car to take Dorcy and Domenic to the airport. O-boy. Here we go. Down the 4 flights of stairs we went and out into the dark, wet, rainy night. When the time came for the final hug, Domenic burst into tears. “I don’t want to go. I’ve never been away from you this long. I’ve never been on a different continent than you.” One long, strong hug and some reassuring words and Domenic was good to go. I stood on the sidewalk and watched the car fade into the darkness. Then it was my turn. I sobbed buckets of tears all the way upstairs and into our bedroom where Seth was curled up in the fetal position, shaking with a high fever and agonizing in pain. He had a horrible case of food poisoning that was getting progressively worse throughout the day. The culprit? Bad milk. The milk here is pasteurized but it still needs to be boiled before drinking it. Even then, the shelf time is quite limited. I don’t drink milk in India.
As it turns out, saying good-bye was the hardest part. Once I was able to speak to Domenic, State-side, and hear his lovely voice, I felt a huge sense of relief. Dorcy reported that Domenic’s good-bye tears dried up by the time the car reached the top of our road. Music to my ears. The flight was long and they had to transfer planes in Brussels where the weather was frigid. Passengers were bundled up in wool clothing with steam coming from their mouths. Dorcy informed me that most people were looking at her, traveling with an underdressed child, as though she was the most negligent mother in the world, to which I responded, “Better you than me.” I’m a super friend. The next stop was JFK for a 6-hour layover. My sister met them at the airport with sushi (per Dom’s request), one of Domenic’s buddies and warm clothes in hand.
It has been a month since Domenic left and he will be home soon. He’s a brave little soul and did better than could be expected. Dorcy made it back in time to be with her mother and make arrangements for the future.
Infections
Seth recovered from his wicked case of food poisoning late afternoon the next day, vowing to never drink milk in India. Smart choice. We attended the school Christmas party a week later which would be unrecognizable if compared to the staff Christmas parties back at home. The venue was a 5-star restaurant with a full dinner and dessert buffet, open bar, music, and lots of dancing, resembling a wedding reception more than anything. We dressed in our formal/elegant attire and headed out for an enjoyable evening.
The following day, Saturday, Seth’s left eye started to bother him. It looked a bit red and irritated; the beginning of an eye stye. Sunday came and the redness was more evident and the pain increasing. Monday morning Seth pulled the lower lid down for us to take a peek inside. There was definitely a sore on the inside lid. Still this wasn’t enough to motivate Seth to see a doctor. Monday evening came and in a matter of 20 minutes it looked as if someone had used purple eye liner and drew a thick line under his eye. He departed to the pharmacy for some antibiotic eye drops (remember, no prescriptions needed here) and promising to see a doctor first thing tomorrow! The promise turned out to a necessity. Tuesday morning it looked as if someone had punched him in the eye; black and blue. Now will you go???
While I was at work, Seth navigated himself to the nearest clinic. “I was in and out in ten minutes,” as he says. And? The doctor took one look and knew immediately what it was, an eye stye. He called his nurse in the room to assist with the procedure of draining the cyst. Seth said they carried on a discussion in Tamil for a few minutes before getting down to work, ignorance is bliss they say. However, apparently not all words can be spoken in Tamil, like the words, “eye” and “needle.” Yep, pretty gross. The black and blue was caused from the infection not being able to drain. Strange things happen to people in India. They lowered the needle to the cyst and upon insertion, blood and puss came spurting out. He was handed a cotton ball, sent to pay his bill and given a list of antibiotics to purchase. The office visit, combined with the antibiotics totaled less than $5.00 USD.
Vacationing
As noted before, we did not go back to the States for Christmas. We had a nice long break, 3 weeks, where some time was spent on the Andaman Islands. The Andaman Islands are owned by India and only a 2.5 hour flight from Chennai. The weather report promised a week of rain, thunder, and lightening, how lovely. As luck would have it, the only water we saw falling from the sky was a light mist during our 2.5 hour ferry ride from Port Blair to Havelock Island. The rest of the stay was beautiful. We stayed at a nice little resort on Havelock Island, Symphony Palms. Our days were spent snorkeling, reading, playing cards, eating, drinking, swimming, and exploring the island, but only after Seth turned in his last two homework assignments online. The only Internet access on the island was conveniently located across the street at the Internet café; a straw hut with dial up service. It only took an hour to upload 2 assignments. Bravo for technology!
The following day we went snorkeling. We had strict orders to be ready by 7:00 am for pick-up. Remarkably enough the cab service was on time. We were driven 50 yards to our destination spot (really? Had we know), and proceeded to be shuffled around in disorganized chaos until 9:00 am when we were rushed to the boat. The boat looked like a row boat with a closed bow and a motor attached to the back. Nine of us were shoved into the boat and the gear was loaded only to discover we still needed gas. Typical. Without a care in the world, the can was lifted into the boat, with gas sloshing out of the can, into the boat and all over some poor girl’s feet and legs. This type of christening must happen to all the tourists because not one Indian blinked an eye, offered to wash it off, or even looked slightly apologetic. I was having flashbacks to my earlier days in Mexico. Leaving the shore was more difficult than need be. We were bumping and banging into the anchored boats surrounding us. Seth crawled onto the bow of the boat to give us a massive shove. Even more shocking than the service up to this point was the fact that the fiberglass bowed enough to support Seth’s weight without snapping. Good thing too, because had he fallen through the bow, I’m certain the bottom of the boat would have given out entirely. By 10:00 am we were on our way.
The next day we wanted to go on a Jungle Trek, advertised at our resort on a large wooden sign in front of reception. As it turned out, not a person around knew anything about such a trek. Instead we rented a scooter for $5.00 USD a day and did some of our own exploring. Seth hopped on the back, put me in charge of scooting, and off we went with a teaspoon of gas in the tank. We passed by the gas station about 7 times before stopping at the only grocery store where gas could be purchased from a tin can in the back. Finally we were on our way to Radanagar Beach or Beach #7. Radanagar Beach was voted the number one beach in SE Asia; bold claim but enough to lure us there.
The beach was amazing. We spent a couple of nice days there, lounging around and taking walks. Down the beach and around the corner was a small cove, the scene of an awful tragedy in April. A young woman was eaten by a salt-water crocodile. Of course the tourist guide doesn’t advertise this and we only first heard about it before departure. The only display of caution came from a small sign, “Swimming and snorkeling not recommended here.” I should say not.
The stay at Havelock Island came to an end all too soon and off we went to Port Blair Island. We were greeted at the ferry landing by our driver; a young Indian man with an earring, a shiny black car, a keen sense of style, and flair for good music. We tore off down the street bumping to the tunes of Eminem. Maybe he thought we’d feel more at home listening to the vulgar lyrics chanted in English, and if truth be told, we did. “Stop at the liquor store before the airport,” we dictated knowing there couldn’t possibly be any judgment coming from this fine, young man. Liquor is super cheap on Port Blair and with the New Year approaching, it was a must.
We arrived to the airport on time, liquor securely stowed away in the suitcase. I went through security first and left Seth with the luggage full of booze just in case there was a problem. The shuttle to the plane arrived late. We were hurried along and told to be seated promptly because the runway at Chennai would be closing at 2:30 pm and if we arrived late, we wouldn’t be able to land. What kind of an airport closes the runway mid-day or ever for that matter? After listening to safety instructions in Tamil and then again in English, we were on our way, landing safely and on time.
New Years Eve and More Food Poisoning
The families at our apartment complex organized a New Years Eve party on the rooftop. We woke up New Years Eve day, ready to prep for the evening. While breakfast was cooking, Seth grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge, and polished it off in no time flat. Within 5 minutes Seth looked at me, turned around, and grabbed the empty yogurt cup from the trash to read the expiration date; December 11. Seriously, Seth? Just like the milk, yogurt is pasteurized here but the shelf time is short. And just like the milk, I don’t eat yogurt in India either. An hour later, noon by now, Seth was throwing up and going to the bathroom for the next 9 hours straight. The only time he got up, other than to use the bathroom, was to make a guest appearance on the rooftop, water cup in hand, a true indication of how sick he really was. The evening didn’t go as planned, but we still rung in the new year together which is all that really matters. By January 1, the only effect of the food poisoning was extreme dehydration. Several tall glasses of lemon water mixed with equal parts sugar and salt and he was good to go. I told Seth, in my most loving and caring of ways, since he is unable to read expiration dates, he is permanently banned from ALL dairy products in India with the exception of cheese and if I caught him trolling around the dairy in the stores there would be a heavy price to pay. Now both Seth and I do not drink milk, or eat yogurt in India.
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