Redemption in the north

This morning I left the chaos of Delhi behind for the unknown (but very likely much improved.)

On the train i sat next to a german couple who are visiting India for 5 months. They had been delayed in my hotel for 3 weeks while recovering from typhoid (yikes!) and a nasty case of street food poisoning. Cautiously, I ate nothing but naan yesterday so as to avoid that predicament. The train ride was very pleasant, as was the scenery. 
 
Dehradun, 6 hours from Delhi, was it's own chaotic amalgation of smells and sights. But it was clean and more inquisitive than intruding. I suppose they see even less foreigners up here.

I arrived at the farm via a rickshaw outfited with a lawnmower engine after only one flat tire, a very close head on collision with a truck, and completely uncertain of what I'd find. Having had my romantic notions of delhi rather rudely upended, I was afraid that either I would never find the place or that once I got here, i would be sorely disappointed.

It seemed that the bazaars of Delhi were my test, and the farm is my reward. The sprawling 55 acres are beautiful. The lead volunteer here took me on a tour of the grounds and introduced me to countless varieties of vegetables, millets, seeds, cows, worms, puppies, mango trees (35 varieties of those alone!) This was after I was offered a meal of course - "I must warn you it is nothing fancy- simple organic, vegetarian, all grown on this farm, is this okay with you?" um... Yes please! There are several volunteers: Aistrian, potugese, colmbian, Japanese and a few from California. (C-town always represents.) There's a large library on the farm and we are viewing a documentary on global food issues after dinner.  

My room has an outlet! It is a crisp cool evening. There is a meteor shower this weekend. I bathed for the first time on the trip so far (no facllities at the last place) with a bucket of warm solar heated water. And this post is reaching you through wireless Internet!!! Yes, I am one very happy camper. If only my hubby and gunner could be here too, i just might make a home here. 

Redemption in the north

This morning I left the chaos of Delhi behind for the ownknown (but very likely much improved.)

On the train i sat next to a german couple who are visiting India for 5 months. They had been delayed in my hotel for 3 weeks while recovering from typhoid (yikes!) and a nasty case of street food poisoning. Cautiously, I ate nothing but naan yesterday so as to avoid that predicament. The train ride was very pleasant, as was the scenery. 
 
Dehradun, 6 hours from Delhi, was it's own chaotic amalgation of smells and sights. But it was clean and more inquisitive than intruding. I suppose they see even less foreigners up here.

I arrived at the farm via a rickshaw outfited with a lawnmower engine after only one flat tire, a very close head on collision with a truck, and completely uncertain of what I'd find. Having had my romantic notions of delhi rather rudely upended, I was afraid that either I would never find the place or that once I got here, i would be sorely disappointed.

It seemed that the bazaars of Delhi were my test, and the farm is my reward. The sprawling 55 acres are beautiful. The lead volunteer here took me on a tour of the grounds and introduced me to countless varieties of vegetables, millets, seeds, cows, worms, puppies, mango trees (35 varieties of those alone!) This was after I was offered a meal of course - "I must warn you it is nothing fancy- simple organic, vegetarian, all grown on this farm, is this okay with you?" um... Yes please! There are several volunteers: Aistrian, potugese, colmbian, Japanese and a few from California. (C-town always represents.) There's a large library on the farm and we are viewing a documentary on global food issues after dinner.  

My room has an outlet! It is a crisp cool evening. There is a meteor shower this weekend. I bathed for the first time on the trip so far (no facllities at the last place) with a bucket of warm solar heated water. And this post is reaching you through wireless Internet!!! Yes, I am one very happy camper. If only my hubby and gunner could be here too, i just might make a home here. 

Delhi

Arrived in Delhi last night, and all I can think is... naive, naive, naive. Me with my romantic notions of India. Apparetnly when the Lonelyplant guidebook said the Paharganj Area had a "seedy reputation for drugs and dodgy characters - not everyone's cup of tea" I eroneously pictured something like Mission Beach, where I lived in college, where your neighbors all sold pot, but the vibe was chill and artsy. Recall that hotel room in Leo Dicaprio's "The Beach" where his acquaintance OD's on heroine? Well apparently that hotel is a chain and I'm staying in the India branch! It's my own fault - who could resist $4 per night lodgings? I'm going to have to up the budget a bit.

I have a day to kill in Delhi, but it seems that I'd have to get in a car or rickshaw to leave this area, and let me tell you there is no roller coaster ride that compares to my ride home from the airport last night. Lane lines do not apply, cows are everywhere, pedestrians are for target practive, people bicycle on the highway with carts at their backs. lights don't mean much either.

I never really comprehended what it was like to be a woman in a country like India. perhaps it is better for locals, but the searing glances and advances from Indian men are a bit demoralizing. And they come at you 10 at a time. This morning, I resolved to stiffen my back and I threw a shawl over my head and neck and donned some mirrored sunglasses, which gave me a nice "rich Dubai girl" look. You basically just have to not respond to them, even when they are right in your face insisting you respond. If you say no, or respond in any fashion, it only eggs on the conversation further. The next time I hear an American bitch about the political correctness of treatment of women, or the next time I hear an Anerican, man or woman, claim not to be a feminist, I'm going to scream. We don't know how good we've got it.

Happy to find an internet room, though. Going up to get a bite on the roof of this place and watch the bazaar pass by. I will be in Dehradun tomorrow and at the farm shortly thereafter. I keep picturing Vandana Shiva as my Mother Mary, knowing that if I can just reach her, she will provide safe, clean lodgings and a respite from these pestulant men. Will write from there! Please disregard the somber tone of this email - it was a tough night, but I'm sure once I leave the city it will be much better!

Ronery, So Ronery

John left for his 5-month deployment today. I've had about 15 hours now to digest, and resist the urge to be overly dramatic. I feel a bit of perspective is in order - or at least the situation requires it of me:

First, we've been living the life of tropical island bums disguised as a "military family" when there are ever-increasing numbers of active duty members deploying to very dangerous places every day. Our time had to come eventually. Secondly, he is only going to be gone for 5 months, when many are deployed for 9-12 months, and often repeatedly deployed. It's not the time or place for complaining. And still, this whole military world is not quite my reality. I'm used to a very pedestrian life back in Los Angeles. We wake up, go to work, come home, watch Project Runway, eat bagels, go to Del's, roll over to Vic & Judi's to read magazines, play with Gunner, go for bike rides. Eat, Drink, Be Merry.

Providence seemed to be having some fun with me this morning. I came back from the airport to a flat tire in the car, a kitty "situation" (the "bootie-drag-boogie" I think Aviva called it?) and a broken Skype phone I have no idea how to fix. But I'm sure this is only fate's way of pointing out that I have become way too dependent on the pillar of stability that is my absent husband. It's time to remember how to take care of myself again - if only till February.

It's odd to realize, but I'm kind of a loner. Which is strange, because I have been particularly social in stages of my life that called for it. I seemed to have a million friends when I was in school and never at a loss for a companion, even for a mini-drive around town at night. I loved that time actually. But because of my current mix of school and jewelry company and applications and plans for my Indian travel adventure, I am not as inclined to try to crash every social gathering on island. In fact, most of my friends have their own families, and their own goings on. It's more difficult to insert myself. Especially since some of my close single friends have left this summer, it's a bit lonely.

Of course, most obviously missing from this "Woe-Is-Me" post is John and what he is going through. He has forgone our insanely comfortable memory-foam mattress to stay in a bunk in the scorching hot middle east, work pretty much 7 days a week, away from his family. But the thing is, and anyone who knows John can attest to this - he will be fine. He is an eternal optimist and can find the best in any situation. I can't decide if that makes me sadder and miss him more, or happy because we're both going on our separate adventures and will have some pretty awesome stories when we see each other again. He would vote for the latter. So, I'll lean towards that angle too.

Anyway, if any of you would like John's PO address while he's in the Middle East, let me know and I'll email it to you. I'm sure he'd like even a postcard from you!

A scuba-heavy weekend

I'm exhausted from a fantastic weekend. John got back in town Friday night - he had been sent on a ONE DAY work trip to Virginia, if you can believe that one. His total travel time was twice as long as his work conference. Luckily, he was able to parlay the trip into a stateside visit, and see friends and family for about two weeks. I, on the other hand, wet a little nutty by myself. Probably because this short trip was foreshadowing of his diployment to come - less than a month from now. I will have school to keep me busy and jewelry designs to come up with, and a voyage to India! But I'm still sad in anticipation of the months to come.

So this weekend, yes. I completed my four ocean dives and am now scuba certified! Saturday we dove off our local beach and Sunday, we took a 45 minute boat ride out to the Kerama Islands and dove there. John was able to come with us and it was a great day. I apparently am still trying to excise the Nitrogen from my blood because I am exhausted. Last night I could barely lift my arms. Scuba diving felt like flying. There are these underwater landscapes with sandy bottoms and great jutting mountains of colored coral. You can stand in front of a cliff of coral, and just bounce up and swim right over it. While I did feel a bit constrained by the amount of gear, once you get used to the slower speed, it's a heavenly feeling.

Saturday afternoon, we picked up some friends-of-friends and took them to Pizza in the Sky to enjoy some Okinawan views. They are Americans living on the mainland and were just down for a visit. One thing living and traveling abroad does is really open you up to a sort of global "community". You make fast friends in exotic places - both because you want to share your experiences with people and because you realize that the world is much smaller than you had imagined. The networks of people I've met these past couple of years have made the experience that much better.

Trying to earn a good gig in the afterlife.

Here's a cute picture I found of John and me in Kyoto. That's our tour guide Yui, and her pet monkey. That little primate knew all the hottest spots in town.

So, I'm not too familiar with Buddhism - but isn't there some tenant that says that each time you are reincarnated, you are born to specific parents and put in specific life situations that really test a certain part of your personality that needs improvement? Like if you are a soul that latches on to very materialistic possessions, you will be born to a pauper. I haven't quite figured out the specific purpose of being born to my parents or my family - perhaps in a past life I was an attention-seeker, so in this life I was born as the oldest of 10 children, so as to put me in my place? Perhaps I was a lazy soul in a past life and therefore born to two incredible over-achieving parents so as to get my derrière in gear? Not sure, I'm still trying to figure it all out. I like the idea though.

One flaw I have started to discern in myself is an unfailing need to convince and persuade someone to my point of view. I don't like this tendency, as it always makes me feel really irritated for days after a confrontational conversation. What good does that do me? My most recent example was my (8 hour long) lecture today. By the end of the lecture, I was literally shaking with anger at about 9-10 things the professor had to say. Clearly we came from different view points, this is not unheard of - I have some unorthodox opinions. But I just couldn't wrap my head around (nor could I be quiet about) so much of what he was spouting (something about the innate beauty of a bomb when is is dropped from a B2, about Nixon being the best president of the 20th Century, Gandhi being a moron who destroyed India, and Sadam having somehow caused 9/11, among other pronouncements). Yet, something must be wrong with me that I cannot just let this person exist, in harmony with me, and accept that these are his opinions. They just... make me a little insane.

What do I know? I'm young and have not lived in the world half as long. It's absurd really - what makes me think that I could have any affect on this person's opinions? I just don't get how we could look at the same set of events and come to totally opposite conclusions. I should be able to learn, live and let live. But I can't, and it makes me crazy. See now I'm getting angry just writing about it. I really need to work on this. I should be doing homework, and instead I'm venting in the blogosphere. Ugh, that makes me even more mad.

So yes, my point: I think (or I would if I were Buddhist) that the Universe plucked me out of my Southern California pool house and plunked me right down on to an Air force base in the middle of Kansans and Arizonians and Nebraskans and Texans (oh so many Texans) to remind me that I do not have the monopoly on wisdom - not even close.

Oh it's hard, so very hard for me to get down off my high horse. But I'm going to sit through my second 8 hours of class tomorrow (I should get reincarnation bonus points) and meditate on the cushy gig I'm working towards in the next life.

A celebration and good-bye

In Okinawa, we have a great tradition called the Olympics. No, this does not involve javelins or lap pools, balance beams or 50-meter dashes. But it’s definitely NOT a spectator sport. The Olympics is the whirlwind of events preceding a PSC (Permanent Change of Station) that usually involves trips to as many Okinawan hot spots as you can squeeze into a 2-week period. Said PCS-er determines what restaurants, hikes, scuba spots, and tourist destinations they absolutely must see before they leave the island for good, and then all their friends make it happen.

Ironically, I believe the term Olympics found its origin because one particularly popular girl had about 12 going away dinners and someone compared it to the real Olympic ceremonies that, well, never seem to end. But now we cherish our Olympics. It’s our last chance to bid our friend farewell, and to get in our seasonal trips to Okuma beach, the Okinawa Aquarium, and Pizza in the Sky. During PSC season, it becomes an absolute marathon of activities, exhausting even the most energetic participants.

Today, we climbed Hiji Falls for the Becca Olympics. It was a beautiful May day, just cool enough to be able to breath without an inhaler. Becca is a flight nurse who has been on this island longer than any of us and most of her close friends have already gone. She was here when we arrived, and made us feel at home.

We’ve come to find military life (well, so far – this is only our first assignment) to be like college life. (Sometimes a little too much like college.) You arrive on the island, not knowing anyone, or what the heck all those darned acronyms mean.
Then, some kindly upperclassmen will take you out to lunch, show you the ropes. Tell you that the cafeteria food sucks, but happy hour at the local pub is a great time. You will feel part of the group – this amazing group of people that have been happily living in a foreign country and sucking the marrow from it. With each new year, a few more of those upperclassmen leave, and before you know it, you are the Seniors, ready to take on your final year. Senior year is great, but it’s never quite as good as those freshman days, when college life seemed never ending, and there was not where to go but up.

This is why it’s important to participate in the Olympics. It’s a proper send off to those who came before, who trekked through the jungle to find the best hikes, who ate at all the bad sushi restaurants so you could eat at the best. It’s a thank you for making this island so welcoming.