Shopping for Suitcases

I have not been to Goodwill in months. Why? Because I always come home with crap I don't need. Today I went in search of

a. cheap lightweight suitcases

b. shorts and skirts for Abi.


I came home with

a. one skirt for Abi

b. one giant Fisher Price dollhouse mansion

c. one Tiny Love baby mobile

d. a small laptop bag

e. two Magic Schoolbus books that we don't own yet

f. one paperback novel for me

g. one book about mummies for Abi

h. zero suitcases


So now the justifcation:

a. it fit her and she liked it. Fine.

b. Because Nitara looked at me with these big huge baby brown eyes and asked sooo nicely and it was only $5 and great shape and would be a good home for the thousand and one Little People figures that we had tried to get rid of earlier by putting them in the garage and they were forgotten successfully until a certain husband brought the whole mother lode back out when I was sick in bed one day. And now they are all over the whole house again, but hey, they are finally being played with and wouldn't this be a nice addition to the farm, airplane, school bus, and car that we already have?

c.Because Abi just fell in love with this thing and begged and pleaded and pointed out that she did indeed have $4 of her own money at home and she wanted to spend it on this, and it was in great shape after all, practically new, and they are expensive new (but come one she's 6!). And after we got it home I mounted it on the bed frame and she sat and stared at it and played the classical music and just looked so peaceful and happy and feel promptly asleep. So why didn't I buy one when she was a baby? It might have been THE KEY to her sleep problems. Kicking myself.

d. Because our current laptop bag is huge, and this one was really small and nifty and stylish, and who cares if I rarely take the laptop anywhere because it also needs the chiller tray and has no working battery at the moment. But hey, for the plane trip we are allowed to carry one carry-on plus a small purse or laptop. If I put the laptop in the rolling backpack that has a laptop sleeve it might be too heavy with the formula* in it too, so hey, I can put it in this neat little nifty stylish $3 laptop case and its weight won't be counted. Even though it's an old laptop and probaby weight 20 pounds, not including the broken battery. And I'm not even sure if the laptop is coming with us yet, but that's beside the point.

e. Because, wouldn't you know it, one of my life's aspirations is to own every single Magic Schoolbus book they have ever printed.

f. Because I can stuff it in the the nifty little new laptop case and read it on the plane. Yeah right, with two kids to take care of. Wishful thinking, but it justified the book.

g. Because she wanted to read it. And because somehow the fact that my daughter wants to see pictures of dried up old mummies and read about how they came to be that way makes me feel I must be raising her right.

h. Because they didn't have any. But the lady said check back every day because they do get them in but the go fast. So every day I will drive by Goodwill after picking up Abi from school and every day come back with another carload of stuff we don't need and no more suitcases than we bought the previous time.

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And now contrast this with parts of India. Our life is so different here. With a little begging my kids get some new (used) toys. In India I have seen children really begging. For money. I have had the juice box grabbed out of my hand and sucked down hungrily by a girl Abi's age. Exiting temples, I have had people beg for my half-eaten sweet prasana and when I give it to them, my appetite suddenly gone, they eat it as if it's the best thing on earth. Not all of India is poverty. I can easily walk down the street with child beggars, dirty and thin, with reddish hair from malnutrition, follow me. But they stop short of the mall I have just entered. And inside the mall there is air conditioning, shops with neat rows of luggage, handbags, shoes, furniture, books, and toys. When you are a child beggar, you have little need for all this. You want food. It is an all-consuming thought.

I look at my own children with everything they need, and more than a few extras such as the dollhouse, the huge collection of books, their bunkbed with clean sheets and they wear clean pajamas to bed, and they get a new toothbrush when their old one wears out, and if they are sick they can go to the doctor. Abi sometimes complains that I won't let her have certain toys, or that her backpack is not as nice as her friend's. India is an eye-opener. I wonder what it will be like for my girls to see children their own age begging in the street for a scrap of food? I hope that they come back from this trip appreciating what they have. I too am often caught up in the "I wish I had . . ". In the U.S. it is hard in other ways. We are so isolated from one another. We are so consumed with buying the necessities of life: for our kids things like toys, fashionable clothes, music and sports lessons.

To illustrate the divide between the rich and poor in India, here's a bit about my husband's life. His family is wealthy by Indian standards. Although here they would be considered upper middle class, there is not much of a middle class there. He was enrolled in an exclusive boys school as soon as he was born. At the age of four he started school which, like all schools there, required a uniform. At lunch time the household servant would bring him hot lunch, sit while he ate it, and carry the lunch container home. He took tennis and his sister took swimming and music lessons. He grew up not ever learning how to do things that most kids here learn from an early age: how to mow the lawn, fix a leaky faucet, drive a nail into the wall to hang a picture, clean up his room, dust, cook, maintain a car. His job was to study hard, and he did his job very well and with a lot of effort. He also had time for vacations, playing cricket in the street with friends, and buying as many books as he wanted to read for fun. When I married him he knew nothing about maintenance and he still struggles with simple things like yard work. He was born and raised to hire servants to do these things for him. I had a talk with a cousin of his who is working in the US temporarily. He said that in India it's easier to manage if you have a little money. For five cents you will have people lining up to do your work for you, because they are so poor. It is much more crowded there and there's just not enough to go around for the poor. Here if you offered someone money to hang a picture it had better be at least $20 or they will not think it's worth their time.

Today on NPR I heard a story about a girl named Neha, my daughter's middle name, selling candles near the Ganges for a living. She said she makes about 30 cents a day. Where is her childhood? When does she get a chance to play? When does she get a chance to sit in a classroom and learn to read, and learn about history and geography, eat her lunch at noon and play at recess for awhile? Is childhood a luxury that we feel our children are entitled to? In reality most of the children of the world work from a very young age. They learn a trade, they beg, they find odd jobs. they take care of their siblings, they are street smart. Whether that is a good thing or bad, or maybe a mixed bag, I feel that the children in our culture are given a childhood only because perhaps there's nothing else for them to do until they grow up. I am glad that my children are comfortable in life, I often wonder if they are not growing up as balanced as they would if they had an actual purpose in life-- if they felt needed not just by virtue of being alive, but because they play an essential role in the family and society. I wonder if some of the self-centeredness that many in our culture have arises from having their main childhood aspirations being to aquire the lastest toys, score the most goals, and make the best grades. I hope that this trip provides my daughters with a dose of reality-- not that they are really lucky because by the flip of the coin they were born outside of poverty, but that perhaps their lives are not as rich as they think they are. And that having a life of no responsibility for too long is just as harmful as having too much responsibility too soon.

Bathroom talk

On my first trip to India I was warned that toileting was something to get used to. I was prepared for a fancy hole in the ground and no toilet paper. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at my in-laws' house and found a modern western bathroom complete with a roll of toilet paper! I later found out that they had remodelled that bathroom with me in mind. How sweet.

My sister in law Kamini once confided that Indians think Americans are disgusting for wiping themselves with paper. "How can one truly get clean?" she asked? I agreed, although I had never thought about it until that moment.

So after my stock of toilet paper ran out I was determined to "go native." They had installed a hand sprayer with a head on it that is similar to what you find next to the kitchen sink in some houses. I learned the hard way to press down gently unless I wanted my entire backside blasted with a ricochet of water all over the tank and wall. I also learned the hard way to avoid using the toilet sprayer after early morning. You see, their house has a shallow well dug under it which they fill with water trucked in from the mountain. The local tap water is not supposed to be real clean. The pump on top of the well sends the water to pipes on the roof of the two-story house and then gravity pulls it down into the house and creates a siphon effect. Well, the metal water pipes sit there and bake in the Indian sun and if no one has used the water for awhile it flows straight into the little toilet sprayer and I get the full near-boiling hot water treatment. The alternate method is to keep a bucket full of water next to the toilet and use what looks like a large liquid measuring cup with a spout and handle to clean yourself. (I also preferred the bucket method of bathing-- same concept-- because of the hot pipes, if I bathed after early morning or learned to mix a little hot water in a bucket of cold. Yes it is possible to have a complete shower with just 2.5 gallons of water.)

On my tour of India I came across many bathrooms. Here are the ones I remember the most:

-- The paid bathroom outside a temple. It had a row of stalls with concrete floors that were sprinkled with bleach powder. Problem was, there was no actual toilet. Just a slanted floor with a small drain in one corner. We had to pee on the actual floor. I guess they didn't want people pooping in their bathrooms! There was no bucket and cup to wash with. Just a waist-high faucet sticking out of the wall. When one positioned one's posterior under the faucet hoping for a dribble to wash with, instead one was blasted with a shower-like spray at high water pressure. The intention was to wash the stall completely. It was with some amusement that I watched person after person emerge from the bathroom completely drenched. But it was so hot I think after we got over the embarrassment we were grateful for it.

-- The bathroom in someone's house in the village. It was a communal home with several large family areas and a central courtyard. It was put together hodge-podge with concrete, corrugated plastic and steel roofs, and a central bathroom for everyone. It had the traditional squat toilet but what it did not have was a flush or any running water. One was expected to pour the bucket down the toilet after doing one's business and then refilling the bucket for the next person.

-- The dirty hostel in Tirupati. There was some mix-up with our hotel so we were forced to stay at the hostel. The sheets were very much used, the floors were filthy and we laid newspaper down. There was this huge stainless steel drum of water sitting under a dripping tap. I could never get the tap to turn on past a drip so I was forced to use the water in the drum for toilet purposes. Who knows who else had used that water or what for? Even though we had hiked about 10 km up a mountain path and were sweaty, I chose not to take a bath. I know I sound prudish when so many in India don't have fresh water. But at the time I was just thinking that a Motel 6 sounded great.

-- The bathroom at my mother-in-law's sister's house. It was a standard family bathroom, but the thing was that my cousin-in-law had just taken a shower so the bathroom was all steamy. The pressboard door didn't shut very well so I pulled it shut tighter. I discovered that it was stuck tight and I was trapped in there and no amount of pushing could open the door. Finally someone noticed I was missing and they pulled then handle and got me out.

-- Saving the best for last. We were travelling through the countryside and I just had to use the bathroom. We stopped by a roadside tea stand and found a mud brick bathroom. The concrete floor was filthy with human waste. The toilet drained just to outside and down a shallow grade to a grassy field. The thing that really got me though, was that I was told by the tea stand owner to dip my own water before I went in, as there was no bucket. He pointed to a algea-green goat trough. Yeah, I survived that one too.

That being said, I'm sure that all but the last toilet were still a heck of a lot cleaner than a toilet at any Wal-Mart in the U.S.

I have been told that this time we are going to five star hotels because of Nitara's health needs, her need for clean water and an outlet to recharge her pump battery. In a way I think I will miss the adventure of roughing it. Almost.

Links:

http://www.pbase.com/jtodhunter/indian_toilet

http://www.everything2.com/index.pl?node_id=1314998

http://www.scottcarneyonline.com/blog/2007/02/ode-to-indian-half-toilet.html

http://www.talesofasia.com/toilets-rs.htm

http://www.cromwell-intl.com/toilet/

Around the world in 30 hours

We got the tickets!! As planned, we will be spending the month of June in India! Total time spent in air: 24 hours (not counting the Phoenix to LA trip). Total time from LA to India: 30 hours. Air miles from here to there: 10,429

We have to get ourselves to LA by our own means. We will leave in the middle of the night from LA, fly along the coast up past Alaska, over and down to Taipei, Taiwan. That leg of the trip isn't bad because we sleep for awhile. In Taipei we are all herded into a holding area that is cut off from the rest of the airport, contains hard plastic chairs, a drinking fountain, and a bathroom. No diversions like TV, music, or even watching people pass by, and it's pitch black so we can't even look out the windows. Then back on the plane to Kuala Lumpur. That leg of the trip, from LA to KL lasts 19.5 hours total, not including the Taipei stop.

Those 19 hours are going to be so incredibly long. Not only my fear of flying which I try to hide as best I can for the sake of the kids, but the boredom. No matter how well I pack the kids' bags, there is no way we can pack enough stuff to keep them entertained that long. We will just have to cope. I remember last time that I was very grateful for on board entertainment. Except that, even though the airplane has several channels, they all run on a loop of about 6 hours. So by 18 hours you have watched everything that's interesting, played all the games until you are sick of them, and you actually care a lot about the next bit of food they bring around because that's the one thing left that you haven't seen or done yet. The flight attendants, bless their hearts, try to keep everyone happy with food. They bring the regular meals and then they bring little snacks in between. You look forward and learn to savor as long as possible even if it's a little wedge of soft cheese and some crackers. You learn to spread it on there artfully because there's nothing else to do. There is constant food, and most of it is pretty decent. The only bad food was when I ordered Indian vegetarian meals our second trip. Ugh! The Western vegetarian meal is pretty good. Don't ever order the regular meals unless you like things like broiled eel. My poor husband got that on our first trip over. It's not surprise that he declared himself a vegetarian a week or so after that meal.

The bathrooms. Where shall I start. There is a big area in the middle of the plane and again at the end where there are about 6 bathrooms. There is a constant line to the bathrooms, especially right after movies end or after meals. A lot of people just don't care about cleaning up after themselves and as a result the floors are covered with wet papertowels, there are no clean papertowels anywhere, all the little amenities like mouthwash and toothbrushes and even cheap maxi pads are gone in 15 minutes. The sinks have to be depressed to be emptied and no one bothers. The trash bins are overflowing. Oh, and how could I forget the socks? They give everyone a pair of polyester disposable socks to wear. A lot of people coming from warm climates wear sandals and that high up, your feet get pretty cold. But it's a good idea to remember to remove the socks before you go into the bathrooms. Yep, I learned that the hard way.

We will land in Kuala Lumpur at around noon their time. The airport is very modern and shiny, lots of glass and metalwork (see photo above). There's an underground train which the girls will probably enjoy. Last time our layover was more than 12 hours so we were shuttled to a hotel and allowed to take a shower and rest. This time our layover will be 7 hours and so we will be stuck to pass the time in whatever way we can inside the airport. We may be able to take a bus tour or something if we can get a temporary visa. Maybe I should look into that. They might even have showers like the Singapore airport does and if so we will be doing that for sure. I always pack fresh underwear. Which works out great unless you have to dump your bag on a table for random inspection. Yep, learned about that one the hard way, too. About 1.5 hours before our flight we will be checked into another holding area. It's glass enclosed and once in, you can't go out again. Last time there were no bathrooms and 15 month old Abi chose that moment to produce a poopy diaper. Note to self: have Nitara wear Pull-Ups for the trip. We will travel 3.5 more hours to Chennai, India on a smaller plane. This leg of the trip has mostly Indians. They play Bollywood movies instead of American and Chinese movies. The trip is short but seems like forever because we are so ready to get off planes for awhile.

But wait! We are not done yet! Because after we get off the plane in India at around 10 or so at night their time (exactly 12.5 hours different from the time we came from in the States), we have to wait in a long, long, long line. (See black and white photo above). Get our luggage, hope it hasn't been tampered with, go through customs. Then outside is where we will see our family waiting for us. They always have to hire a taxi for our luggage because their own cars are too small to fit it all in, plus all the people who come to meet us. Writing this, I can almost hear the sounds of the cars beeping and the put-put of the autorickshaws, and feel the warm humid air on my skin. And I can also almost feel the sandpapery feeling on my eyeballs from the jet lag, the feeling of not quite being there, the joy at seeing my family and wanting to talk to them all night but knowing that they are tired and want to go to bed.

My dad has offered to house-sit. He and Diana might even move into our house if they decide to remodel their kitchen. Our cat and fish will be taken care of. We need to wait for Abi's passport to come (her old one expired), get Visas for Vignesh and Nitara, shop for gifts, write and rewrite lists of what to bring and what to do before we leave. Ten weeks until we leave!

I found this travel page by Sue Knight and was finding myself nodding in agreement at what she said. She writes,

The air was damp and heavy and there was a pervasive pungent smell in the airport lounge but ‘lounge’ did not really seem apt. No one seems to lounge much at this airport. We stood waiting and scanning the belt for our bags for an hour before we realised that most of the luggage from our flight had been taken off the conveyor belt almost immediately and was piled in a heap at the back of this arrivals hall. The clues about quality assurance or the lack of it were everywhere. Arriving in India was different from anywhere else that I had experienced. . . . The air in Chennai is toxic. The fumes from the two stroke mopeds seep through the open windows and even what might seem to be the tightly sealed air-conditioned vehicles. It gets in your clothes, your nose, your eyes, your ears, the pores of your skin. It is virtually impossible not to associate in Chennai. It is an assault of the senses. And I fell in love with it.

Driving

Driving in India is quite an adventure in itself! The photo at left is one I took on my last trip. It is amazing what kind of vehicles you find, and how drivers seem to defy the laws of gravity. I once saw a family of four on a standard bicycle: dad driving, mom sitting sidesaddle on the luggage rack holding a one-year-old in her lap, and also some grocery bags, and a 3 or 4 year old sitting on the handlebars. I have seen similar things with mopeds. The buses have so many passengers hanging on the outside windows nearest the street that they tilt wildly to one side.

Carseats are another issue. Last time I was there very few people used them. I got admonished by older relatives that Abi looked very uncomfortable in the carseat and would be happier on my lap. I could just hold her tight in an accident. I annoyed some family members when Abi took up a whole seat to herself when we were doing a caravan to some temples. Because of her, we needed to rent another car. My little nephew is now using that carseat that we left there. When we go this summer I plan to take Nitara's 5 point booster seat for him to use. He's a big kid and could probably use it by the time we get there. I am bringing Abi's seatbelt highback booster for Nitara to use because she is the right size for it now. I guess Abi will just sit in a regular seat. Something we are not going to try at home but for lack of space we can't bring 3 seats. I hope this visit brings more carseat sightings but I'm not holding my breath.

I have found these little tidbits from the web and none show any exaggeration. This is true representation of the Indian driving experience.

A website that has some good photos and funny observations about driving.

Here's a little video that shows a typical street in an Indian city. Crazy! Those little yellow cars are auto-rickshaws. You really do have to hold on for dear life!

Here's a street-level view of the same thing. Note heavy pollution.

Passing

Traffic Jams

Chennai specifically

The following item was extracted from the travel section of a UK daily newspaper:

Travelling in India is an almost hallucinatory potion of sound, spectacle and experience. It is frequently heart-rending, sometimes hilarious, mostly exhilarating, always unforgettable - and, when you are on the roads, extremely dangerous.

Most Indian road users observe a version of the Highway Code based on an ancient text. These 12 rules of the Indian road are published for the first time in English.

ARTICLE I The assumption of immortality is required of all road users.

ARTICLE II The following precedence must be accorded at all times. In descending order, give way to: cows, elephants, heavy trucks, buses, official cars, camels, light trucks, buffalo, Jeeps, ox-carts, private cars, motorcycles, scooters, auto-rickshaws, pigs, pedal rickshaws, goats, bicycles (goods- carrying), handcarts, bicycles (passenger-carrying), dogs, pedestrians.

ARTICLE III All wheeled vehicles shall be driven in accordance with the maxim: to slow is to falter, to brake is to fail, to stop is defeat. This is the Indian drivers’ mantra.

ARTICLE IV Use of horn (also known as the sonic fender or aural amulet): Cars(IV,1,a-c): Short blasts (urgent) indicate supremacy, ie in clearing dogs, rickshaws and pedestrians from path. Long blasts (desperate) denote supplication, ie to oncoming truck, “I am going too fast to stop, so unless you slow down we shall both die”. In extreme cases this may be accompanied by flashing of headlights (frantic). Single blast (casual) means “I have seen someone out of India’s 870 million whom I recognize”, “There is a bird in the road (which at this speed could go through my windscreen)” or “I have not blown my horn for several minutes.” Trucks and buses (IV,2,a): All horn signals have the same meaning, viz, “I have an all-up weight of approximately 12.5 tons and have no intention of stopping, even if I could.” This signal may be emphasized by the use of headlamps (insouciant). Article IV remains subject to the provision of Order of Precedence in Article II above

ARTICLE V All manoeuvres, use of horn and evasive action shall be left until the last possible moment.

ARTICLE VI In the absence of seat belts (which there is), car occupants shall wear garlands of marigolds. These should be kept fastened at all times.

ARTICLE VII Rights of way: Traffic entering a road from the left has priority. So has traffic from the right, and also traffic in the middle. Lane discipline(VII,1): All Indian traffic at all times and irrespective of direction of travel shall occupy the centre of the road.

ARTICLE VIII Roundabouts: India has no roundabouts. Apparent traffic islands in the middle of crossroads have no traffic management function. Any other impression should be ignored.

ARTICLE IX Overtaking is mandatory. Every moving vehicle is required to overtake every other moving vehicle, irrespective of whether it has just overtaken you. Overtaking should only be undertaken in suitable conditions, such as in the face of oncoming traffic, on blind bends, at junctions and in the middle of villages/city centres. No more than two inches should be allowed between your vehicle and the one you are passing - and one inch in the case of bicycles or pedestrians.

ARTICLE X Vaikuntha (heaven) may be obtained through the head-on crash.

ARTICLE XI Reversing: no longer applicable since no vehicle in India has reverse gear.

Where are we going?

Hmm, the other map disappeared. Here's a new one. We are going to be in Chennai. Bottom right.

Here's a map of Chennai. Vignesh's family lives in Egmore. As you can see by the names and the round abouts, racing club, etc. it was designed and occupied by the British. It's former name is Madras, but the Indians have been gradually renaming their cities in an attempt to reclaim their contry. Thus Madras is now Chennai, Bombay is now Mumbai, and so on.

The weather

In the past we had always been smart about timing our travels to Chennai (formerly Madras) in January-March. We were glad to get out of there by March because it started to get very hot. Well, due to really high ticket prices we decided to try to go in the Summer. That is also Nitara's healthiest season. Her health issues make it hard to go anywhere in the winter.

Well I just looked up the temperatures for summer in Chennai. The high is around 100 F up to 110. The lows are in the 80's. Being from the Phoenix area, this is not such a bad prospect, considering our highs are upwards of 115 and our lows are in the 90's. However we have a dry heat. We hardly sweat in the summers. We just huddle down in our central air environments and venture out to the swimming pools and water parks. In Chennai most people don't have central a/c and our in-laws are no exception. The best we can hope for is those little window units. During the day there is one room that has one going so we can cool off, but we must still brave the heat in the kitchen and main parts of the house. At night all the rooms can run the a/c units, mercifully.

What is going to be our downfall, I think, is the humidity. It averages 61% with highs on some days at around 75%. I am not good with humidity. The kind where you take a shower and then soon after you dry off, you wondered why you bothered. The people there will cover themselves in talcum powder. I experienced a hint of this in March.

Okay so now let's talk about mosquitoes. Mosquitoes think I'm candy. I can just see them doing little high-fives the minute I get into town. Last time I went to India I covered myself with Odomos and as long as I remembered to do that, I managed. One horrible night I forgot to cover my feet with it before bedtime. The next morning I had about 50 bites on both feet! Yes, I counted. In V's house they don't use nets because they are too troublesome. Instead they close the doors and windows at 4PM. It is when the mosquitoes come out for the night to prey on victims. It is also the time when tne sea breeze comes in. So the choice is get cool sea breeze and be eaten alive, or roast and sweat.

Mosquitoes in India means malaria season. We are going to take our malaria pills with us, but I'm still not sure if we will be taking them in a preventive manner or just waiting to see if we get it. Most people there just wait until they get it, take the pills, hang out for a week or two in bed, and are fine. But do I want to spend my trip hanging out in bed with a malaria fever in the 75% humidity? Hmm. . those pills don't sound so bad after all.

The one plus is that mosquito season is also mango season! And V's family has a huuuuuge mango tree growing outside their front door. It's like a little ecosystem with squirrels, monkeys, parrots and other birds. Its trunk is wide enough that it would take about 6 people to encircle it by holding hands. The tree shades three different houses. In the summers I am told that there is a constant thud of mangos falling off the tree and hitting the roof. The monkeys have a feast. Amma and Appa (my IL's) hire some men to come and pick as much as they can. There is mango ice cream and other treats for about two months during the summer. They give them away to the neighbors and sell the rest.

The last three times I went, I wore traditional salwar kameeze outfits. I had not yet mastered saris enough to wear them without feeling like the whole thing was about to fall apart on me. The "salwars" were nice in some ways. Pretty. But they were also kinda hot. And those darned dupattas kept falling off of me until I tied them unconventionally around my waist or just ditched them and waited for the tongues of the elderly woman in the house to click their tongues.

Since I have hit my 30's I am finding I no longer care as much what others think. I do what's comfortable and right for me, as long as it doesn't actually hurt anyone. I have decided to pack mostly western summer clothes. I mean, in the Phoenix heat the less clothes the better and this heat is gonig to be worse in some ways. So I'm going to pack a lot of shorts, tshirts, and capri pants and hope that I have the guts to wear them once I'm there. They will be modest by our standards but still pretty immodest by the standards of the more traditional folks.

Of course I can't talk about the weather without mentioning the tsunami and how it hit the beaches of Chennai suddenly. I walked on those beaches with my baby daughter last time we were there. I bought vegetable fritters wrapped in a newspaper cone, shot bee bee guns and balloons in a game (the vender refused to let me play more than twice because I shot up all the balloons! ha!), saw the kiddie rides, the beach horses. One terrible day, the ocean claimed them all. Gone in the blink of an eye. Chennai is recovered now and moving on. But I can't help but to wonder, as I stare that beach photo from my last trip, how many of these people were swept away?

And so it begins

My name is Darshani. I am a caucasian American woman who has been married to a native of south India for 11 years. We have two daughters, Abirami (6) and Nitara (3). This will be my fourth trip. Abi has been once before, when she was 12-15 months old.

I would describe myself as an eclectic religious person. I embrace the good parts and leave behind what doesn't feel right in my heart. Currently our family attends the Unitarian Universalist Church most often, with trips to the Hindu temple on festival days.

You are wondering about my name? I was born with a different name but I chose to take a Hindu name a few years ago. It represents a new beginning for me.

If you want to read my old India journals I have them at Darshani.com

A note to readers: I welcome comments but they will be moderated.