I won't say Siyonara, I'll just say "farewell"

Today marks my final blog post from Okinawa, that little green fuzzy island on the other side of the planet. What a time it's been! My paradigm was cracked open - worlds and people I never thought I'd be exposed to seeped in and became part of me. And I'm not just talking about the Texans.

"Sumeba Miyako" - wherever one lives, one comes to love it. It's all in the attitude, there's really no other way to to face a challenge like moving to Asia for 3 years.

When John got the call from the JAG corps, they offered him Dayton, Ohio or Okinawa, Japan as his assignment options. Neither were anywhere on the "dream sheet" he had submitted. (Dream sheets, as it turns out, are just that - 10 places you'll dream about but never get assigned.) We both went to work that day, totally bummed out. Sitting in our sterile air conditioned offices, we googled "Okinawa" and photos of the clearest blue seas and greenest jungles popped up. By noon, we were ready to give it a shot.

Living in Asia for a limited time forced us to seize every opportunity. How many experiences could we squeeze into 3 years? Turns out, quite a few. We each logged 5 new Asian countries onto our passports. We attempted a few new languages. We made more friends in 3 years than I've made since I was a kid. Good friends, too. The friends are what have made this the amazing experience what it was. I have no doubt that we will be close for years to come. The rub of it is, we keep meeting really fantastic and fun people up until the end - it makes it so hard to leave.

We climbed mountains (Fuji, Himalayas, Pizza in the Sky). Bore witness to Angkor Wat and the Taj Mahal. Met Generals and a Prime Minister, Peace activists and Buddhist monks. We mountain biked, we scuba dived - swam with sea turtles and out-swam a REALLY BIG MAN-EATING shark. We sank deep into the tunnels underneath the land-mined border of North and South Korea. Cruised down the Mekong Delta and the Holy Ganges River. We took innumerable airplane flights. John even hitched a ride on an F-15 for a bird's eye view of Japan. I planted potatoes and cauliflower in India and John planted a "Hollywood" sign on the sandy mountains of an undisclosed location in southwest Asia. John got his chops trying eight courts martial, and I knocked out a grad degree. Best of all, we got married.

But most of our memories will come from just bumming around the island. Crocheting and watching movies on Cortney's couch, dropping by the Bowman's for some Mad Men and home cooking, or running into friends at Uroko's and sharing a bottle of Awamori. Living on the Sunabe Seawall reminded me what I loved so much about college, and what I've missed since then: living in a walkable community, surrounded by friends who take care of one another. It makes life so much more enjoyable. Doors on the seawall are always open. I hope we find the same sense of community in Spokane.

We even had some international visitors, who will forever hold special places in our hearts for braving the journey. Andre, Masumi, Scot, Renee and Mark, I hope you loved Japan as much as we did! (BTW...Prestons & Lawlors, you had better make it to Spokane, because John's side of the family is out-representing you big time!)

I think about where we'd be if we'd said "no" to this adventure. Would we always lament what we had missed? Or like the people who stayed in Plato's cave, would we not even know we missed anything at all? I have John to thank for putting the fire under me to close my eyes and jump. I always thought seeing the world was something I would do later in life, on my two weeks of vacation a year. I'm so grateful that I was forced to move out of my comfort zone. I hope that I never get too comfortable, and that I continue to seek out adventure every place we go.

Off to Spokane at 5 am tomorrow. Gunner Bunner is hiding under our hotel room bed right now, dreading the inevitable 25 hours and 4 flights of travel. Eegads, so am I.

I will especially miss the Okinawans I've gotten to know. When you say "goodbye" in Japan, you say "Mata ne" which is loosely translated as "see you later". You never say "Siyonara!" because that means a final goodbye. "Siyonara" is what action heros utter before they blow up the bad guy. It is permanent. My Japanese sensai, Miyagi-san, told me I could say it when I finally left the island. So, the other day, after waiting for 2.5 years, I said it to my wonderful hairdresser, Rumiko, after my last appointment. She said "No! No Siyonara! You must come back to Okinawa!" Maybe some day we will. But for now, all that's left to say is:

So long Okinawa, and thanks for all the fish!

Our lives on the Seawall

The family portraits are in! My friend Aviva gave me the most generous gift for graduation - she did a photo shoot for us!

The shots of Gunner are TO DIE. John looks pretty darn cute too. You can see more here on her blog:

Aviva-Photography

Aviva and her family have been some of our closes friends here on this island. Ever since the first day she stalked me on the internet (same way she found her husband) our lives together on the seawall have been an absolute blast. They feed us, entertain us, and keep me sane when John is deployed. I will miss them more than I can say.

writer's block.

I'm sitting here working on a project. School is done and jewelry is done until September so of course, and in typical fashion I find it IMPOSSIBLE to sit still for our remaining month on island, so I've got not one but two writing assignments I've given myself. One is a children's book and one is a grown-ups book. Both fiction. Both impossibly difficult and gut-wrenching. I am constantly beset with waves of inferiority complex, uncertainty and the urge to crawl back into my mother's womb and call for a rematch. On life. Good grief, no wonder writers drink.

Went to watch John's trial today. I have spent a good many years sitting in court watching trials - I always feel like I am watching Broadway performances of Law and Order. But when it's your husband who you knew way back when he was a goober, hockey-jersey-wearing-law-school-hopeful, it is easy to become swollen with pride. He has a natural way about the court room, and I could tell that he was putting the very nervous witnesses at ease, thereby getting the best testimony. I wish you all could see it first hand.

Must get back to the writing. Promised myself 1000 words a day. I'm using the "driving across country at night" approach - basically writing one sentence at a time. I have no idea where that sentence will take me, but all I can do is go along for the ride.

wrapping up

I just left you hanging there in Vietnam, didn't I? No, we didn't decide to pack up and move there. I just got a little lazy about the updates. After Vietnam was a wonderful 4 day stay in the Smiley Kingdom of Cambodia to visit with some of the happiest people I've ever met. Happiness, as we all know is relative - especially in the context of Cambodia. But the Cambodian's joy was sure contagious.

It was the closest to the equator I've ever been, and hotter than sin, but I'm sure I will be back there.

So, In a whirlwind tour, we got back from Vietnam and Cambodia, our cousins from England came to visit for two weeks...


I graduated from grad school...


we went to Tokyo...


had our photos taken by the talented chef and photographer Aviva... (Photos to come. REALLY AWESOME PHOTOS to come.)

...and now I sit here on my rented Government couch, pooped and in need to some strong coffee. In a mere matter of weeks (7!) we will be on the road AGAIN. This time for good. John, Gunner and I are moving West (East?) to Spokane Washington. I haven't fully processed this, but I need to because this house is going to be a nightmare to pack.

Now that I'm done with my schooling for now, I can enjoy some pleasure reading, so I've joined this website "GoodReads" which I'm totally hooked on now for reviews and recommendations. I changed the Widget at the left to reflect what I've now reading, and you can become friends with me to see all of my recent books. Click on the books to the left to go to the site.

Oh and PS, Gunner says "hi". Actually, no, wait- I believe he actually said "fill my bowl with milk or I will claw your face off." They sound very similar. Gotta run.

April 18-21

Perhaps because my last trip allowed for weeks at a time to absorb a city, this 5 day tour of Vietnam seemed like a whirlwind. First of all, Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) is as developed as Seoul, as it seemed to us. The streets are incredibly clean, there are gorgeous buildings boh new and old. Despite it's socialist roots, Vietnam seems to be hurling itself at the market economy with breakneck speed. The streets are
completely dominated by endless throngs of motorbikes, some carrying entire families. Much like India, there is little regard for traffic signals, but the lack of errant bovine makes the ride a little more predictable, I'd assume. Walking around the city streets at night felt a little like New York City in the peak of summer. Much like in India, life happens on the street, from gambling to gossiping to slurping up their famous Pho soup on mini plastic stools.

Up north in UNESCO Heratage City of Hoi An, the unyielding temperature had us stopping for a zesty beverage about every hour or so. John got some shirts made at one of the tailoring shops. Hoi An mirrored a phenomenon I noticed in India: in each town, there are only three or four different kinds of souvenirs to buy, and every single shop carries them. In Hoi An, literally every third shop was a tailor with the exact same clothing in the display. Same fabric, same samples. So after a few blocks, the average shopper gets either gets bored, or is able to bargain down a new wardrobe to practically nothing. It seems the locals would be better served by adding some variety. Say a basket shop or something. To carry home all the newly sewn clothes. While hoi an was lovely and picturesque, it did appear to be expressly created for tourists.  

After we could take no more shopping we drove off to explore the marble mountains, these three lumps of marble jutting out of a flat expanse of nothingness. From the peak there is a lovely view of China beach. The hike to the top (more likely the raging heat) almost put me in a bad mood, but the Giant cave inside was one of the most serene and awe inspiring places I've been. 

Hoi An

Greetings from hoi an! Located half the way up the Vietnam coast from Ho Chi minh city. We were in HCM city for half the day yesterday and it was smolderingly hot. We stayed at the historic Majestic Hotel on the river. Last night we arrived  at our gorgeous hotel, on recommendation fro Lu and Tracey. The lush grounds sweep around a beautiful pool and line the oceanside. Every hotel here offers complementary breakfast buffet. The tropical fruits! The cheeses! The pastries! If there is anything good (anything at all) that can come out of Frech colonization it's a tradition of delicious breads and pastries. 

I have to say, though, that as we are swept down the absolutely crazy streets in our air conditioned SUV, dodging oncoming mo-peds, I keep looking longingly at the congregating locals on the side of the road. Backpacking on my previous trip, I seemed to be traveling in a different dimension. John and I are both looking for a little more "authentic" Vietnam and hopefully we'll find it in the historic city of Hoi An today! Get this, you can even work for a day at a local farm, and as excited as I was about his, John did not really consider that to be good use of our limited vacation time. I'm going to try to convince him to rent bikes today, but the madness of he mo-ped circus has him a little nervous. I say, if you want to live like the locals, you gotta be closer to the ground.

Away we go!

That's right kids, it's adventure time again! Vietnam & Cambodia, here we come. I'll be blogging along the way so stay tuned...

winding up and winding down

I am cramming for my comprehensive tests this week. I wish I could say that I'm cramming for my comprehensive tests this month or this quarter, but like most things in my life, I am doing it at the very last minute. This entails going over dozens and dozens of my typed notes and papers, and thinking to myself "wow, this stuff's pretty good. Fascinating, really. I wish I had the FAINTEST IDEA WHAT ANY OF IT MEANS." This is the inherent dilemma with being a student for 20-some odd years. For self-preservation's sake, you master the art of cramming all the info onto a temporary cerebrum loading bay, spilling it all onto a few bluebooks, then purging it immediately upon exiting the classroom that evening. A shot or two of sake always helps clean up the remnants. There's just no other way to do it. The typical brain simply cannot hold that much information - especially when other things, like the lyrics to 'Parent's Just Don't Understand" or every line in the Sound of Music simple REFUSE to dislodge themselves from the grey matter. I'm starting to wonder how useful this method of education really is, and if it has qualified me to do anything but, well, pass a test. I can always retake if I fail. And retake again. Cringe.

John and I are planning what will be the second to last of our Asian-persuasion-vacations. This one to Vietnam and Cambodia. Let's just sit here an reflect on my current situation. I live on the beach in Okinawa where my grandfather fought about 60 years ago, and I'm planning a vacation to a place that only 4 decades ago saw one of the longest wars in American history. I'm not sure what this says about American history or American foreign policy. (Although I probably should...NEED TO STUDY.) It's just amazing how the world can change in a few generations. Can any of you imagine in 25 years planning a spa vacation in Iraq? Or learning to mountain climb in Afghanistan? I said to my mom when telling her about my trip to Vietnam, "I'm so lucky to be able to travel there!" She remarked that she didn't really call that "lucky." No doubt for her generation, Vietnam was a place you tried to stay away from. And the world turns. One of my favorite places in Korea was the demilitarized zone, where you could actually take a tram down into the tunnels dug by the North Koreans. I do like history in my vacations. Even it if it is tragic and relatively recent. I like to walk on the bleeding edge of how the world is changing. Beyond all that, I hear that the Vietnamese people are wonderful and that they really do like Americans.

We are working largely off the itinerary of our friends Lu and Tracey (who just got engaged, yay!). They went to Vietnam a couple years ago and raved about it. Who would have thought our lives would have taken us from a tiny apartment in West LA to traipsing around Asia in only two years?

Our friends the Bowmans introduced us to a man who brews his own beer here on the island. It was scrumptious, and it inspired John to attempt a batch of his own. We purchased all the equipment and now there is a giant vat of honey-cream ale brewing in our dark and temperate bedroom closet. Washington state is apparently the birthplace of Microbrewery, and so we figured we should get a head start learning the process. Will also be a good way to entice new friends once we get there. I'm looking forward to renditions of pumpkin beer in the fall and cranberry ale come the holiday season.

That thing you think you cannot do.

Over at the Foster library, there's an exhibit with influential people and their quotes. Closest to the table where I normally do my work, there's a photo of Oprah Winfrey, and the quote "Do the one thing you think you cannot do." I pass by it about 10 times a day, every time I get up to buy a zesty japanese beverage from the vending machine.

The one thing I think I cannot do, but would really like to do, is write a book. Not just for the sake of writing one, but because I have an idea of something I'd really like to say. I fear I cannot do this because I can't possibly imagine that I can create something that would actually be taken seriously. Who am I to be offering my opinion? There will always be someone more qualified to write it. There will always be someone who could write it better. This self-defeating attitude is really sticking in my craw, but I can't seem to shake it.

I have mastered the art of giving a prof what he wants to read. I can dissect a prompt, do adequate research to compile 30 pages of work enough to get a good grade. But even in the best papers I've written, I'm really only sampling the ideas of others. When the topic is "The Israeli/Palestinian conflict" or "the monetary policy of the EU", there is nothing truly original I could claim as my own. It's all been said, by smarter people than I. I'm simply reading all the arguments, deciding which makes the most sense, and then regurgitating it back in some stylized prose. If someone were to say to me "write a book about this particular topic, using these resources, addressing these issues," I could churn it out, no problem. It's the insecurity that I feel from having to own the entire thing - the idea, the execution, the argument. It's the argument I'm afraid of. I'm afraid I'll make an easily defeated argument. Thank god I didn't go to law school. You'd think that I would have more confidence in my own brain after all this freaking schoolwork. I had more confidence before I even started.

I'm fired up by the idea. I come up with thoughts about the project in my dreams. (Usually I'm having these thoughts on the jungle island in LOST, since we've been watching about 3 episodes a night in an effort to catch up to the current season.) I'm terrified that if I don't follow through with this, that I will have caved to my fears, my mediocrity. I will have taken the easy way out. And this is why I'm putting this on the darn blog. Because I need to say it out loud so that the embarrassment of never following through with it will actually force me to do the one thing I think I cannot do.

these rainy days

It's a dark and rainy day on the Sunabe Seawall, I lurve it. Can't wait to get to Spokane where it really knows how to rain!

John has been back in town for almost a month now. He got in amazing shape (belly be gone!) while in the desert and now he's got me dragging my sorry tush to the gym every day. Peer pressure is good in that department. He got the opportunity to be chief of military justice while deployed and also to advocate in three courts martial (trials) so I think the whole deployment really amped up his experience level. The 5 month separation, while lonely, was worth it.

I just finished a class on Islamic Fundamentalism which was equal parts annoying and informative. Annoying because it was taught by a history PhD with a specialty in African-Islamic studies, so while I was expecting to apply all I've learned about realism and rational choice, none of this really applied. It was basically a history class for which I had absolutely zero background.

Although the class was not taught in Arabic it might has well have been, what with all the "urf'", "hadith", "Qutb", "takfir" and other really high-value scrabble words he just assumed we knew because this was a Master's level class.

"This class really should require a prerequisite in Islamic studies" he says. Fantastic, since I've spent the last two years studying the Cuban Missile Crisis. "That's why I've assigned you the Qur'an as one of your text books, to get acquainted with Islam." UGH.

"Any suggestions of things you think should be on the final exam?" He asks the class.

"Yes," I plead. "Can you in some way relate all of this BACK TO POLITICS? - You know the stuff we actually study and understand??"

I will say that the class readings were really interesting, and totally separated out for me the various strains of Islamic Fundamentalists, from Hamas to Al Qaeda, which have little in common. Perhaps it's because of our history with the monolithic Soviet enemy that makes Americans think we're up against one giant Islamic Fundamentalist monster. After taking this class I'd say that's not really the case. The student presentations (each of us had to write on a separate group) were really informative too. In the end, I'm glad I took the class.

Having lunch with a friend from school today and excited to catch up since I haven't seen her since October! Then off to the travel agent to start planning out trip to Vietnam and Cambodia. After having the freedom to jaunt acound India for 2 months, I just don't know how we can squeeze two countries into 10 days, but I'm going to try my best. Quite the spoiled traveler am I.

Reunited

John got back last night after 5 months in an undisclosed location in southwest Asia. I got to meet him on the flight line. It's funny how I have been used to being completely alone in my home for 5 months and then all of a sudden there's this other person there, which is kind of strange, and yet it feels like he never left. It's great.

It was a hot and sweaty day, odd since last week was chilly with sideways rain. And just as I type this I hear the thunder and pitter patter on the roof. Man, i love weather.

For some reason John's homecoming triggered in me a kind of Julia Child madness and I spent the last 4 hours making (and simultaneously eating) some serious food. No wonder the chef never eats with the table - by the time the food is done they are completely stuffed!

Rustic Shrimp Bisque

Chopped Miso Salad

No-Knead Bread

My mom is a great cook, and very frequently we'd come home to a steaming hot bowl of Leek & Watercress Soup, or powdered sugar-crusted Pound Cake, or individual shells with creamy Coquille St. Jacque. Not a pot or pan in the sink - just the end result, ready for our greedy bellies. As we scarfed down the goods, she'd tell us with pride about how the recipe called for such and such, but she thought such and such would taste better, and doesn't it? Can you taste it Jenny? It's easy when all you see is one pot of soup to dismiss the hours that went into making it perfect. She used to do that with other things to. Like hand-scrub the entire white carpet, and "doesn't it look good Jenny? I just used a little bleach and voila! like new!"

"Sure does" I'd mumble, swallowing a slice of pound cake whole. Why she put so much time into hand-scrubbing a carpet, I'd never understand.

But, after spending all day in the kitchen, making the first meal for my husband in 5 months. I finally get it. Every detail is done with love. Every precise measurement and impromptu ingredient swaperoo makes the dish taste that much better. The rug that much whiter. And after using every pot in the house to make one soup, and washing them all before we sit down to dinner, I finally get it. And it was worth every minute.

A Bad Case of Senioritus

This weekend kicked off my final master's class - Islamic Fundamentalism. It was the only class offered this quarter that I had not previously taken. After several hours of mind-boggling dissection of the various Caliphs of early Islam, the professor looked at our blank faces and repeated his admonishment that this was an advanced class that required some previous study of Islam, which sorry to say, I do not have. So, I went to the library and checked out "Islam for Dummies" which I hope to credit with saving my academic tush.

It seems to me that if a master's program offers a course that requires a prerequisite, they should also OFFER that prerequisite, but I am too tired to fight, and so off to the Qur'an I go. (The Qur'an is one of our 4 textbooks, as is "The Al Qaeda Reader") Unfortunately this is not a Middle Eastern politics class (which seems to be the point of a masters in politics, no?) but a religion class. I'm so irritated. I was hoping to read book #7 on the Cuban missile crisis and call it a day.

In college I took a a Greek Mythology class, and after a few classes of countless indecipherable names, jealousies, battles, deaths, rebirths, it occurred to me that I was being forced to memorize someone else's fairytale, which seemed like an incredible waste of brain power. The wave of deja vu is washing over me.

Recently, I started to think that teaching religion in school wouldn't be such a bad thing. I stand by my feeling that creationism needs to steer clear of science class. Things taught in science must be subjected to the scientific method. But in a world where so much of history and current events revolve around the religions of the world, shouldn't we at least be getting as much of an introduction to Islam as we do to Greek Mythology? I mean, here I am, at the tail end of a Master's program in International Relations and I barely can tell the difference between a Sunni and a Shi'ite. And by barely, I mean that I know that they're spelled differently. For example, I've written entire papers on Hamas from a "how do we deal with them" perspective, but I really know nothing about them or how they came to be.

The information is out there, sure, and any curious person can take the time to find out more. But I also think that a world religion class taught in high school might open up a group of say, Christian Fundamentalists, to see that even though everyone they've ever met is Christian, that a good portion of the rest of the world is not. Might a few of those kids then be encouraged to find out more about those non-Christians instead of thinking of them all as heathens? Maybe not all, but definitely a curious few.

Of course, this can never happen in the public schools - I mean can you imagine development of the curriculum? Activist school boards, trying to skew the way certain religions are presented. Parents, refusing to sign the waiver to let their kids learn about certain religions. The Gubernator, appointing a panel of theologists on the government payroll to come up with a testing scheme? It would be a nightmare. Even if you say that religion is the reason for so many of the world's problems today - that's the best reason to teach about it I think.

Until then, I will continue to lament my public school education and make up for lost time.

My tree necklace made it in a Travel Channel Commercial! My Seattle penpal tivo-ed it for me. I'm a one-hit wonder with that darn thing. But I guess that's better than no hits at all.

I'm fighting off yet another post-India cold, but mind over matter - I think I'm winning.

Another nail in the coffin

I'm sitting here stewing in my own juices - a nauseating feeling oddly similar to the night of Nov. 2, 2004. Just like that fateful night, here I am in a kind of mouth-open, stupefied slump. Although this time, my cupboards are cursedly devoid of booze to lull myself to sleep. I just read that the Supreme Court has handed lobbyists and the corporations that employ them, the power to spend unlimited amounts of money to intervene in our supposedly democratic process.

I sound dramatic, I know. I'm sure many people would say, "well that sucks, but what can you do?" Indeed, what can you do? Don't worry, this is a democracy! And every 2 years you get to go to the polls and do your part to make this country great! (sorry, my "facetious" font is not working).

Increasingly, I'm finding that so many of the problems I concern myself with studying - the food industry and global hunger, the demise of independent media, the alleged health care reform - stem from a problem that has to do with corporate personhood. Corporate personhood is the (in my non-J.D. opinion) absurd notion that a corporation is a person, and entitled to the same rights are individual citizens. Did you know that it's illegal for a person in Texas to criticize the beef industry? After all, beef companies are people, and you might hurt their feelings. Just ask Oprah - who spent upwards of a million dollars defending herself in a Texas court for saying she didn't want to get mad cow disease from a hamburger. So please, if you're in Texas reading this, I beg of you to close your browser, because frankly, I can't afford a lawyer.

So, I went to the library tonight and rented The Corporation - a really fantastic documentary about these issues. I'd seen it for free on the internet - and you can too, although it's worth a purchase of the DVD, which is much better quality, and a mission worth supporting.

Here is a particularly savory slice of the film. This clip is only about 11 and a half minutes of your time, and it shows a real world example of just why these issues affect you and me every single day. You will never watch corporate media in quite the same way. And you might never want to drink milk in the US again.

Meanwhile, I have to figure out a way to channel my anger. I'm thinking... a white russian at Eclipse - who's with me?

Yesterday, my Grammy died. She had 9 children, and 18 grandchildren.



She used to call me "Lamb" or "Lover" or "Jenny Penny".



She was beautiful. And she will be missed.

Home Again Finnigan

So here I am, back at "home" (a tiny speck of an island in the East China Sea). Funny that Japan is "home" to me now. And, ironically, only for about 4 months longer. After India, I was exhausted, dirty, beaten down. Osaka airport was a clean, disinfected pillow on which to rest my dreary head. The first chance to give my hands a thorough washing in two months.

I arrived in Delhi at 5 am from Jaipur, not having slept. Like I had done after many middle of the night train station arrivals, I sat down amidst the sleeping bodies and rats and waited for day to break so I would feel comfortable enough to venture out to the rickshaw drivers. I did have a bit of fun with the lookie-loos while I waited though. I must have been delirious from lack of sleep, but I started combating the stares with cross-eyes, tongue tricks, and other childish antics. After months of politely lowering my head and accepting the somewhat violating stares, I'd had enough. I should have done that weeks ago, because it worked, no one dared stare at me after that! They even moved a few feet farther away. Ah, peace.

After aimlessly walking around a freezing Delhi all day, just waiting to leave, I made it to the Delhi airport, which was a madhouse (what were you expecting? Order? Lines? HA!) Our 10:00pm departure time kept getting pushed back - first 2 hours, then 3, then 5, then 7. They kept moving us from gate to gate. But here's the kicker, the Air India people would only tell one or two of the passengers. There was no announcement, no flashing marquis. Only if we were paying attention would we know to move. So, TWICE I woke up wondering why I was the only one sitting at my gate. Then I'd run frantically through the airport looking for the group of Japanese tourists who were also presumably Osaka-bound.

After about 50 hours of sleepless travel, I finally made it home.

I want to thank all of you who actually read this blog throughout my trip. I can count on one hand those who were really concerned about my whereabouts. And that's okay. This blog was really for me a place to make light of the loneliness I felt. The hardships to joke about. To make it all seem like an adventure was just a "Bollywood Movie" that would hopefully be over by the time the popcorn ran out. The trip for me was always a challenge of sorts. The "your-husband-is-off-serving-his-country-what-are-you-doing-with-your-life?" challenge. And I made it home alive, and I have to say, a better woman for it.

So what have I learned in the past 60 days?

- A rickshaw ride should never cost more than 50 rupees and negotiate the price up front. Don't be afraid to jump out and refuse to pay if they take you to somewhere you don't want to go.

- Never say it's your first time in India. Never walk through the market place with a bewildered look. March straight - let the oncoming foot traffic jump out of the way (or hoof traffic, as the case may be). The only way to fit in in India is fake it till you make it.

- I've become an unabashed pilferer of toilet paper. I've been finding it everywhere - in my pockets, in my purses. I will never again be caught without it.

- All the material possessions that I need in this world can fit into one backpack. Not sure if this is really true, but it worked for 2 months! Not once did I think "golly, I really wish I'd brought more crap along with me." As a matter of fact, I would have been happy to leave half of it by the roadside.

- From the hour I was leaving Delhi for the airport, I had this urge to run out on the street, and drink chai with whomever I could find. I miss the closeness of the people on the street. The Delhi Dance. The human interactions that have been bred out of our culture. Try as you might, you are never alone in India.

Ironically, the day I got home, I seemed to have contracted some food poisoning of sorts. Ha! I think I probably was on the way to being sick in India, but my body was like, "Oh hellz no you are NOT getting sick in this country." I'm more than happy to roll around in pain in the comfort of my own bed.

John gets home in mere weeks! Then we've got 4 months to take Okinawa by storm. Adventures to come.

Jaipur - city of gems

Well, it was going to be difficult to match the beauty of Udaipur, and unfortunately Jaipur did not. The highlight of my 3 day stay there was a rendezvous with my friend from college, Rachel and her husband Scott. They had hired a tour guide and a driver, so we got to see some sites together in the comfort of an actual car and with a very knowledgeable guide. We hadn't seen each other in over a year and so we had quite a bit of catching up to do. Funny that we used to live less than a mile from each other in LA, and did not see each other nearly enough when we had the chance. When you move 5000 miles away, your perspective changes, I guess. And last night I saw my first Bollywood film called "Three Idiots" which was about 98% in Hindi but it was FANTASTIC. IT was 3 houts long, even had an intermission. All I can say was that it had it all. Love, suicide, some seriously emotional male freindship (tears in almost every scene), dancing, singing, potty humor, an emergency birth on a pong table, and the engineering geek wins out in the end! I was surprised how much we understood. And the audience was roaring.

Another highlight for me personally was the gems. Oh. My. God. The Gems. Jaipur is the world hub for gems, so of course I scouted out several factories and got to see how the serious stuff is made. We're talking 20 karat diamond necklaces, massive door-khocker rings, and some serious artistry. I was in heaven. I'm also smuggling some home in my undergarments. I figure that will distract the authorities from the contraband seeds I got at the farm.

I should never have opened my mouth that I was a jewelry designer because at one point in a 6-hour sitting in one factory, (and after about 7 chai teas) I was surrounded by every diamond dealer in a 10 mile radius. I wasn't even in the buying mood, but this guy called every dealer he knew and before you knew it, I was sifting through bags and bags of diamonds - fancy, marquis, rose cut. Shades of champagne. Lovely. All stunning. While I was there, a Japanese woman who lives in Paris came to pick up her orders - she has a fine jewelry line and it's all made in Jaipur. I wish I had thought ahead about this, but oh well, this just means I'll have to make a buying trip to India.

I arrived in Delhi at 5 am today and will fly out at 10pm tonight. I'm now going to trapse through the bazaars of Delhi and waste away the day. Funny how it's not nearly as intimidating than when I first got here. I've already even given out a bunch of travel info to newbies I ran into at breakfast. I've learned the delhi dance!

Farewell Fair City!

Today I spent my last day in Udaipur, reluctantly. So far this has been my favorite destination. There's just something beautiful about a rajistani sunset over a floating lake palace. Today I took a boat ride from the city palace to the lake palace, where James Bond's "Octopussy" was filmed. I saw the movie for the first time last night at my hotel's open air lounge. Apparently they've been showing it every night for the past 9 years. So has every other hotel in the city. They're really milking that 15 minutes of fame. There's a fantastic scene in the movie where Bond gets into a car chase in autorickshaws through the streets of Udaipur. There are women in saris running for their lives, cows to be avoided, street market carts overturning. I was watching it with 6 other foreigners and we were laughing hysterically because a "car chase scene" is exactly what it's like driving in this town on any old day of the week.

Udaipur is covered in these glass mosaics, made with fragments of mirror. It lends a certain Marrakesh feeling to the buildings (I'm just guessing, since I've only been to Morocco in my dreams). The palace is full of them - usually in the pattern of flowers, trees and peacocks. I spent the first half of my day in this guys studio watching him make one from scratch. Some are small, for tables or chairs. Some are huge mural sized. They are stunning creations. He could live a cush life if he set up a shop in Beverly Hills. I'm going to try to attempt one when we get to our new home in Washington. (Just what I need, another hobby.) This town is filled with artists. Even the guys on the street are handcarving blocks of marble into works of art. My kind of city.

Onto Jaipur next where I am thrilled to be meeting up with Rachel and Scott!

Udaipur - quite a little gem

Udaipur is described as the "Venice of the East" and I think perhaps that this time, Lonely Planet got it right. Flanking both sides of Laike Pichola, the narrow streets rise and fall among clusters of shoips and eateries. Sipping a rose-flavored lassi (yogurt shake) on the top of a haveli five stories up, I can see rooftop cafes from which to choose for my next meal. This arial layer of the city reveals a breezy atmosphere from which to get your bearings. It's easy and yet tres, tres difficile to plan my menu for the four days I'll spend in this town. The food is outrageously good and there are many options. Oui, c'est magnifique! (I've taken to musing in French after spending three days with a french woman in Agra. It's fitting, as Udaipur has a European feel to it.)

I arrived in Udaipur at 6 am and my hotel of choice was filled, so I let my rickshaw driver take me to a recommendation of his across the lake. My instincts were sharp, as this beautiful Lake Shore guest house has an open air cafe with cushy bed-style seating for lounging and contemplating the day's itinerary. My ornately-decorated room has three windows from which I could jump into the lake if the mood struck. $11 a night left plenty of rupees for he endless parade of meals which would follow.

Walking through the Saijhan Niwas gardens, I came upon an elephant who graciously got down on his knees and offered me a ride. Quite the attraction the two of us were! The blonde foreigner in a punjabi suit atop a painted elephant, trapsing around the lake. When we came upon a camel or two, my guide made a great effort to keep the elephant from seeing the camel. He would turn him around or feed him to distraction. The camel's guide also took great care to pass waaay on the other side of the road. ON the third encounter, the elephant got wind of the camel and started to freak out a bit, shaking and squirming. "No problem, madam, no problem!" It was then that I took inventory of the distance between my noggin and the pavement below, and so I decided to dismount and let the animals duke it out (if it came to that) sans moi. A med-evac to god knows where is not really in my budget.

I had the meal of my trip last night at the Whislting Teal on the east bank. A vegetarian Thali - a "thali" consists of a few types of curry, a dal, rice, raita (yogurt to calm the spice), naan bread and a delicious dessert. I love thalis because I don't have to choose between several dishes - I get to try them all! It was absolutely superb, and it was set in beautiful candle-lit gardens. The only thing slightly out of place was the steady stream of Bon Jovi's greatest hits. Not that I minded it one bit. And the staff liked it when I sang along.

Some Oddities and Observations

1. When you walk into a shop in the US, most shoppers appreciate a brief greeting and then the freedom to browse without pestering. But at a restaurant, you usually want prompt and repeated visits from your waiter, attending to your every whim. In India it's exactly the opposite. You cannot enter a store without the salesman unrolling every rug, draping you in countless saris and insisting you sit for chai while trying on every shoe in his inventory. Protests only make this worse - his staff work doubletime to body-block the exit. Meanwhile, you sit unnoticed in a restaurant while your waiter eats, talks on the phone, goes out for a smoke, or leaves entirely.

2. The infamous Indian head bobble is exactly that, a bobblehead motion in a side to side manner, much like the 6 inch baseball player versions on the hood of people's cars. It can mean "yes," "no," "I don't speak English," or "your train left hours ago." it's one thing when being led down the wrong street by a bobblehead policeman. It's another thing when getting your nose pierced and asking the girl if the nosering has been disinfected. In something other than water, preferably. Sometimes the situation calls for a definitive answer.

3. Dogs here love foreginers. They don't really care for the Indians, it seems (and Indians have told me this) but they can smell a sucker when they see one. Foereigners are the only one's who pet them, talk to them, and give them leftover chicken Masala.

4. Grown men walk around holding hands. So9 do strapping male teenagers. Sometimes its a complete interlace, walk in the park style. Sometimes its just a casual pinky-finger link as they navigate through traffic. They also spoon each other when sleeping. I came home one night to find two of the male coworkers canoodling in the hallway in front of my door. Now if you're thinking India will be the next to jump on the gay pride bandwagon, you're dead wrong. It's just the way men hang out together. Meanwhile men and women are all but forbidden from and physical contact in public. Go figure.

5. It's not rude to stare. It's actually quite permissible to gather in large groups around a lonely foreginer and stare at her FOR HOURS, particularly when she's waiting at the train station. It's also quite acceptable to get close enough over her shoulder to read the blog entry she's typing on her iPod, and if this gets a trifle boring, to request that she take you through her digital p[hoto collection instead.

6. Being a celebrity must be the worst life ever. Particulalry one that people recognize and request photographs with. I'm just guessing, but based on my experience in a park the other day, I'd say incognito is the life for me. I was the only non-Indian in this small, non-touristy town, and the entire park stopped and watched every step I took, the whole time I was there. I was stopped by two girls for a photograph with them. Then two more braved it. Then their mom's wanted photos with me. Then their dads. Then came the babies. Lots and lots of babies. 45 minutes and countless photos later, I'm ready for the silver screen. Nah, not the life for me.