The to-dos to-move feel insurmountable.
Tears. Tattoos. Planes. Plans. Contracts. Callan.
The Irish Goodbye - First Steps
Well, here I am again. 12 years later blogging about international adventures. What happened in the last 12 years? I'll leave that to my handwritten, paper-based journals, but as you might have expected --- I found love, got married, got a dog and had a child. In that order.
Ole, the dog, and Olive, the child, are now both approximately four and at a ripe, perfect age to travel internationally, right?!
At this stage in life, after living through what it is like to birth an actual human being, I have a different perspective on this whole moving ordeal. To be clear, I've not moved domestically since having a child, so I cannot relate to that. All I speak of now is the international travel experience (which may or may not be similar).
Bringing up child birth/early parenthood here is intentional because I legitimately feel like moving internationally is akin to a birth of life....in this case, basically a life rebirth. A brand new identity is being born--- you need to establish your immigration status, insurance, housing, schooling, culture, language, friends, travel means, food choices, doctors, daily habits, question all life choices, purge and replace much of your existence (electronic and physical)....etc, etc. I'm sure at the end of this I will feel fully cleansed, but at the moment, I definitely feel like I need the equivalent of a maternity leave. There is so much to sort out! While my job ramps up, so do the requirements for paperwork to work through the major life changes ahead of us.
Today we signed the contract to put our house on the market. Our first house.. the one we spent years seeking and finally found. The one we fell in love with that served as the beautiful backdrop of so many memories. The one that connected us to our amazing network of neighbors and friends, kept us close to family, beautiful parks and community. The one we will so deeply miss.
Happy Valentine's Day to my Love: Work
For those of you regular readers, you know that I frequent the phrase "I love my life." My philosophy is: in order to love life fully, one must also love their job-- it is a huge percentage of life. So, I'll be loud and clear: I love my job. It shouldn't be too shocking, then, that today: Valentine's Day 2011, I spent devoted to my job - traveling yet again to Cleveland. Sunny Cleveland!
I couldn't sleep last night. The stress of the upcoming week of travel overtook my usually soothing time for rest. I haven't boarded a plane since November. For most people, this seems like a fairly short period of time. For me, this feels incredibly foreign. It's Valentine's Day. I'm stuck alone, traveling - again with baggage. Bags I wish I hadn't packed. Bags I wish I hadn't needed.
I stuffed my bags early this morning, forcing my suitcase to a tight close, with the fur from my boots popping out at the zippers - all the while, completely oblivious to the fact that today is a Hallmark Holiday and that my bags were yet again a painful symbol. To be honest, when I booked my travel to Cleveland a couple of weeks ago, it was very clear in my mind that today was the ever special day of loneliness. So, I needed to runaway. This is what I did.
This morning was beautifully melancholy. I whipped and whirred up a routine smoothie, dripped coffee into a to-go cup, and ran out the door with my overstuffed luggage - tears welling.
Sobs escaped as Pearl Jam's "Just Breathe" blasted sorrowful notes through the salty Camry's blown speakers. I let the tears roll as I tried to remember the last time I felt their gentle warmth wet my sun-dried winter cheeks. "Yup, I remember - about a month ago. Break up # 999. 1000th time's a charm? Not so much..." I rubbed the tears from my eyes as I saw a handsome, young, urban professional man carrying a bouquet of flowers to his vehicle. I secretly wanted someone to witness this awkward juxtaposition of tears and roses, and ponder the pitiful nature of this stupid holiday.
As I clicked the "back" button on my stereo's dashboard to hear the beautifully melancholy tune again, my now dry eyes caught themselves on the morning sky as my car veered north. There was a dark, stormy gray-blue cloud covering the majority of the sky, except what lay ahead. The jagged edges of the ominous blanket over my head gave way to a sky full of spectacular hope-- smooth and serene in its pastel pink and orange simplicity. This sky triggered a switch inside of me that I failed to realize until later...from one of self-pity to one mirroring the shy joy shown on the faces of those sauntering through the poor ghetto streets I passed by on the way to work.
A teen punk waiting for the bus with hands full of pale pink presents for his young, innocent love at school. A plump adolescent and her teenage partner, embracing with fresh young love written all over their faces. Another hard-looking teen sheepishly showing off his fluffy white teddy bear speckled with pink and purple hearts to impress his approaching love. These are the scenes that teased out a smile from deep inside my heart.
We are all mirrors.
When I arrived at work, the seeds I planted in my cubicle months ago were finally popping fragile but bright petals and the sun was shining across the clear blue sky. Today was a good day.
I couldn't sleep last night. The stress of the upcoming week of travel overtook my usually soothing time for rest. I haven't boarded a plane since November. For most people, this seems like a fairly short period of time. For me, this feels incredibly foreign. It's Valentine's Day. I'm stuck alone, traveling - again with baggage. Bags I wish I hadn't packed. Bags I wish I hadn't needed.
I stuffed my bags early this morning, forcing my suitcase to a tight close, with the fur from my boots popping out at the zippers - all the while, completely oblivious to the fact that today is a Hallmark Holiday and that my bags were yet again a painful symbol. To be honest, when I booked my travel to Cleveland a couple of weeks ago, it was very clear in my mind that today was the ever special day of loneliness. So, I needed to runaway. This is what I did.
This morning was beautifully melancholy. I whipped and whirred up a routine smoothie, dripped coffee into a to-go cup, and ran out the door with my overstuffed luggage - tears welling.
Sobs escaped as Pearl Jam's "Just Breathe" blasted sorrowful notes through the salty Camry's blown speakers. I let the tears roll as I tried to remember the last time I felt their gentle warmth wet my sun-dried winter cheeks. "Yup, I remember - about a month ago. Break up # 999. 1000th time's a charm? Not so much..." I rubbed the tears from my eyes as I saw a handsome, young, urban professional man carrying a bouquet of flowers to his vehicle. I secretly wanted someone to witness this awkward juxtaposition of tears and roses, and ponder the pitiful nature of this stupid holiday.
As I clicked the "back" button on my stereo's dashboard to hear the beautifully melancholy tune again, my now dry eyes caught themselves on the morning sky as my car veered north. There was a dark, stormy gray-blue cloud covering the majority of the sky, except what lay ahead. The jagged edges of the ominous blanket over my head gave way to a sky full of spectacular hope-- smooth and serene in its pastel pink and orange simplicity. This sky triggered a switch inside of me that I failed to realize until later...from one of self-pity to one mirroring the shy joy shown on the faces of those sauntering through the poor ghetto streets I passed by on the way to work.
A teen punk waiting for the bus with hands full of pale pink presents for his young, innocent love at school. A plump adolescent and her teenage partner, embracing with fresh young love written all over their faces. Another hard-looking teen sheepishly showing off his fluffy white teddy bear speckled with pink and purple hearts to impress his approaching love. These are the scenes that teased out a smile from deep inside my heart.
We are all mirrors.
When I arrived at work, the seeds I planted in my cubicle months ago were finally popping fragile but bright petals and the sun was shining across the clear blue sky. Today was a good day.
Back at it again. Or never really stopped?
"Last week I was in Orlando, the week before that Miami. Oh yeah, and before that I was in Mexico City. Before that, Milwaukee, the Nortwoods, Denmark, Sweden, Michigan, Cleveland, Arkansas, Italy, Turkey, Greece, Croatia, Germany, France, Netherlands, England. I'm sure I'm missing some. Repeats aren't included."
Technically speaking, I have a home now. My keys are actually metal, not plastic credit-card look alikes.
Did I say that I'm back at it again, though? It's kind of up for debate whether or not I have actually stopped any of the travel. I am comforted by the fact that I can sleep in my own bed for 6 nights this week...pretty sure that's a record. I guess I shouldn't be too shocked that, although I moved into my apartment in July, I still haven't felt settled?
Well, anyways, Sunday I depart again. Surprising I haven't gotten an upgrade in any Frequent Flyer status yet? Worthless. This time, the route looks like: Cleveland, France, Germany, Netherlands, Sweden, maybe Finland, or skiing somewhere in the Alps...maybe Home Depot...I don't know. I don't know if I'll have enough time.
Happy and Healthy in the Homeland
I am finally back up to speed - 98.314151659% better. It is fabulous. I will never again take my health for granted. I love life.
Transitioning back to life in the US has had some interesting quirks. I am currently working remotely from my parents house, which is currently up for sale and they are also in the process of moving - the boxes are a constant reminder that I still do not have a home even though I am back in the states and will continue to live out of my baggage for an indeterminate amount of time.
A few things I have observed while being back over the last week:
-I have been freezing my ass off. I keep a personal heater on while I work at the desk. Apparently I got used to the scorching 40 degree Celsius weather in India.
-I have an insatiable hunger. I thought that I would have a hard time eating, especially meat, because I have been a vegetarian the last 6 weeks and eaten very little (reference: 12 pounds lost). Nope. I am eating everything in sight. The Clean Plate Club has a new CEO.
-People drive slow and while the flow of traffic is civilized (with everyone in their own lanes and obeying traffic lights that actually exist here), people have intense road rage. A honked horn here means F off, while in India it means "Hey, I'm here."
-I do not fear everything I touch and put in my mouth. Fresh lettuce means so much to me right now.
-People are chit-chatty.
-I get other people's humor and they get mine. I have to explain less. Meetings last 20 minutes less and people think I'm crazy when I repeat myself three times to get the point across.
-The air is fresh. I can see the stars.
-The moon does not smile here.
-There is no litter.
-Animals graze farms, not busy intersections. Dogs are on leashes and I can pet them.
-Electricity does not go out 3 times a day.
-I wake up between 2 and 6 in the morning and am not working until between 6:30-8:30 at night.
-Lots of skin is shown, even though it is freezing out.
-People are fat.
-Everything is green and blooming.
-I see Indians everywhere.
-Things are expensive and no one is picking up my tab.
-Men on motorcycles ride single, with helmets on. Absolutely no babies are riding them.
-I am not drinking 5 liters of water a day.
-Beer tastes good.
-Bread does not.
-My ribs are not poking out anymore.
-Skin is really white.
-No one cleans my room for me.
-I can brush my teeth with water in the faucet. And drink from the faucet! This still freaks me out.
-There are sidewalks.
-Men are not shy towards me.
-I can drive and walk wherever and whenever I want.
-My previously jobless friends are finding jobs.
-People don't look at me like I'm from another planet.
-Pakistan doesn't appear that threatening.
-There is less visible religious diversity.
-No one is poor.
-Obama's personal life is featured on the front page. His major decisions are not hidden on page 13 of the national newspaper.
-The news is America focused.
-Terrorism is a huge threat. That actually doesn't change anywhere I go.
-I work in my pajamas.
-Chicago appears small, quiet, and clean.
-Roads are bare.
-There are sidewalks.
-Work is lonely.
-I have a better life attitude than before my travels.
-The only "veg" meal on the menu is fries and cheese.
-Cars are big, new and clean, rarely transporting more than one person.
-I have lots of baggage and stuff that is unnecessary.
-I make my own coffee and my own breakfast.
-I can run again.
-Air smells good.
-"Everyone speaks English."
-It is quiet.
Can you believe I miss the Beautiful Mess?
Transitioning back to life in the US has had some interesting quirks. I am currently working remotely from my parents house, which is currently up for sale and they are also in the process of moving - the boxes are a constant reminder that I still do not have a home even though I am back in the states and will continue to live out of my baggage for an indeterminate amount of time.
A few things I have observed while being back over the last week:
-I have been freezing my ass off. I keep a personal heater on while I work at the desk. Apparently I got used to the scorching 40 degree Celsius weather in India.
-I have an insatiable hunger. I thought that I would have a hard time eating, especially meat, because I have been a vegetarian the last 6 weeks and eaten very little (reference: 12 pounds lost). Nope. I am eating everything in sight. The Clean Plate Club has a new CEO.
-People drive slow and while the flow of traffic is civilized (with everyone in their own lanes and obeying traffic lights that actually exist here), people have intense road rage. A honked horn here means F off, while in India it means "Hey, I'm here."
-I do not fear everything I touch and put in my mouth. Fresh lettuce means so much to me right now.
-People are chit-chatty.
-I get other people's humor and they get mine. I have to explain less. Meetings last 20 minutes less and people think I'm crazy when I repeat myself three times to get the point across.
-The air is fresh. I can see the stars.
-The moon does not smile here.
-There is no litter.
-Animals graze farms, not busy intersections. Dogs are on leashes and I can pet them.
-Electricity does not go out 3 times a day.
-I wake up between 2 and 6 in the morning and am not working until between 6:30-8:30 at night.
-Lots of skin is shown, even though it is freezing out.
-People are fat.
-Everything is green and blooming.
-I see Indians everywhere.
-Things are expensive and no one is picking up my tab.
-Men on motorcycles ride single, with helmets on. Absolutely no babies are riding them.
-I am not drinking 5 liters of water a day.
-Beer tastes good.
-Bread does not.
-My ribs are not poking out anymore.
-Skin is really white.
-No one cleans my room for me.
-I can brush my teeth with water in the faucet. And drink from the faucet! This still freaks me out.
-There are sidewalks.
-Men are not shy towards me.
-I can drive and walk wherever and whenever I want.
-My previously jobless friends are finding jobs.
-People don't look at me like I'm from another planet.
-Pakistan doesn't appear that threatening.
-There is less visible religious diversity.
-No one is poor.
-Obama's personal life is featured on the front page. His major decisions are not hidden on page 13 of the national newspaper.
-The news is America focused.
-Terrorism is a huge threat. That actually doesn't change anywhere I go.
-I work in my pajamas.
-Chicago appears small, quiet, and clean.
-Roads are bare.
-There are sidewalks.
-Work is lonely.
-I have a better life attitude than before my travels.
-The only "veg" meal on the menu is fries and cheese.
-Cars are big, new and clean, rarely transporting more than one person.
-I have lots of baggage and stuff that is unnecessary.
-I make my own coffee and my own breakfast.
-I can run again.
-Air smells good.
-"Everyone speaks English."
-It is quiet.
Can you believe I miss the Beautiful Mess?
Protozoan Parasite Peeling Pounds in Pune
So, I've got the bug again.
Which means I will be heading home. I am sure you can guess how I feel about all this, so I won't go into the heavy details. I will be heading home to the States shortly.
Baggage Blog and Mini Taj Blog coming soon...
Which means I will be heading home. I am sure you can guess how I feel about all this, so I won't go into the heavy details. I will be heading home to the States shortly.
Baggage Blog and Mini Taj Blog coming soon...
Big Tall Awkward White Girl in India
Is it bad that most of the time I do not care if I am super awkward and people are looking at me? Maybe I have just been here long enough to not really care. Still, even though I don't care, it is impossible not to notice that people notice me. I looked at a picture of myself with my teammates and I immediately understood why. I am a bit tall white awkward girl, who dresses differently, eats differently, talks differently, smiles differently, nods her head differently, dances differently, treats people differently, works differently.
I'd be lying if I said that some other these things didn't bother me here and there, but for the most part they don't, especially in the cases where I may stand out more than others. In my previous life, I would have been so embarrassed that I would have wanted to curl up in a ball in a dark corner somewhere. At this point in my life, I could give a rat's A. In these situations, maybe I would have cared as an insecure teenager:
-In the canteen (ie. cafeteria), at friend's house, at formal dinners: attempting to eat everything with my right hand. I had no idea that there could be a proper, clean way of eating with your hands. Then I got food all over my face every time I tried.
-Dancing at a work function to Indian songs. Shockingly, American music has not taken over the DJ spot here. It probably wouldn't have helped in the awkwardness (since I am also awkward in the US). I got over the initial fear to bust a move in front of the near 100 people present, since I knew that everyone would be watching the tall weird white girl's every move on the dance floor (and shoving the video camera in her face), and went out to have a blast. Let's just say it was probably not graceful. I think I mastered the men's moves easier than the beautiful belly dancing moves.
-Hanging out in my driver's village. Children were taking turns peering through the doorway as I visited my driver's home in the middle of sugar cane fields. As we left, there were around 30 kids from all over the village running after the car smiling, waving and laughing. As I was writing this, in fact, I received a text message from my driver, Londhe, requesting that I call him. That has happened a few times over the last week, so I knowingly fulfills his wishes, so he can put me on speaker in order that his family, friends, and children of the village can simply hear the funny lady speak.
This brings me on a short tangent, again, about the common, misguided myth: "Everyone speaks English". Ha. Needless to say, I have been learning a bit of Hindi here.
Back to my awkward white girl list...
-Attempting to speak Hindi. The only things more awkward than me speaking in Hindi are the moments of silence during which I get stared at with a blank smile and then my every move and thread on and off my body is memorized, because we have run out of things to say to one another.
-Walking across the office in my "formal professional wear". Again, needless to say, women do not wear the same outfits we western women do. Even if I weren't white as a sheet of paper, people would still stare at me as if I were an alien due to my style. That's ok - gives me the excuse to further my clothing addiction and purchase kurti/as to wear to work to minimize the impact of my alien nature.
-Eating dinner alone. This was the first and most difficult thing I had to tackle on this extended business trip of 4.5 months. Quick and easy method to overcome loneliness, and rogue eye contact: reading a book/newspaper, and/or writing in a journal. Advanced method to overcome loneliness in this situation, in cases where you forget the aforementioned items: befriend the staff and force them to teach you their native language. Even with the use of these methods, the awkwardness is not mitigated. For example, since my stomach has shrunk (reference: previous post), I cannot eat very much. The entire staff had a quick huddle last night before the host confronted me about it, interrogating me as to what was wrong with the food. Traditions in India now tell me that I am supposed to clean my plate, no matter how much it hurts and burp at the end.
I know I have a billion more awkward situations to document, being a big tall white girl in India, but my battery is dead and so am I.
Thank you to everyone for the "get well" and "gain weight" wishes. I have seen more mass in my face the last couple of days and I think anyone who knows me beyond acquaintance level would be pleased to know that I cooked and ate an entire box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese this evening. Clearly, I am returning to the normal state.
I'd be lying if I said that some other these things didn't bother me here and there, but for the most part they don't, especially in the cases where I may stand out more than others. In my previous life, I would have been so embarrassed that I would have wanted to curl up in a ball in a dark corner somewhere. At this point in my life, I could give a rat's A. In these situations, maybe I would have cared as an insecure teenager:
-In the canteen (ie. cafeteria), at friend's house, at formal dinners: attempting to eat everything with my right hand. I had no idea that there could be a proper, clean way of eating with your hands. Then I got food all over my face every time I tried.
-Dancing at a work function to Indian songs. Shockingly, American music has not taken over the DJ spot here. It probably wouldn't have helped in the awkwardness (since I am also awkward in the US). I got over the initial fear to bust a move in front of the near 100 people present, since I knew that everyone would be watching the tall weird white girl's every move on the dance floor (and shoving the video camera in her face), and went out to have a blast. Let's just say it was probably not graceful. I think I mastered the men's moves easier than the beautiful belly dancing moves.
-Hanging out in my driver's village. Children were taking turns peering through the doorway as I visited my driver's home in the middle of sugar cane fields. As we left, there were around 30 kids from all over the village running after the car smiling, waving and laughing. As I was writing this, in fact, I received a text message from my driver, Londhe, requesting that I call him. That has happened a few times over the last week, so I knowingly fulfills his wishes, so he can put me on speaker in order that his family, friends, and children of the village can simply hear the funny lady speak.
This brings me on a short tangent, again, about the common, misguided myth: "Everyone speaks English". Ha. Needless to say, I have been learning a bit of Hindi here.
Back to my awkward white girl list...
-Attempting to speak Hindi. The only things more awkward than me speaking in Hindi are the moments of silence during which I get stared at with a blank smile and then my every move and thread on and off my body is memorized, because we have run out of things to say to one another.
-Walking across the office in my "formal professional wear". Again, needless to say, women do not wear the same outfits we western women do. Even if I weren't white as a sheet of paper, people would still stare at me as if I were an alien due to my style. That's ok - gives me the excuse to further my clothing addiction and purchase kurti/as to wear to work to minimize the impact of my alien nature.
-Eating dinner alone. This was the first and most difficult thing I had to tackle on this extended business trip of 4.5 months. Quick and easy method to overcome loneliness, and rogue eye contact: reading a book/newspaper, and/or writing in a journal. Advanced method to overcome loneliness in this situation, in cases where you forget the aforementioned items: befriend the staff and force them to teach you their native language. Even with the use of these methods, the awkwardness is not mitigated. For example, since my stomach has shrunk (reference: previous post), I cannot eat very much. The entire staff had a quick huddle last night before the host confronted me about it, interrogating me as to what was wrong with the food. Traditions in India now tell me that I am supposed to clean my plate, no matter how much it hurts and burp at the end.
I know I have a billion more awkward situations to document, being a big tall white girl in India, but my battery is dead and so am I.
Thank you to everyone for the "get well" and "gain weight" wishes. I have seen more mass in my face the last couple of days and I think anyone who knows me beyond acquaintance level would be pleased to know that I cooked and ate an entire box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese this evening. Clearly, I am returning to the normal state.