bubblegum universe

I’m turning the ripe old age of 39 this Wednesday and it’s freaking me out. I remember this happening to me a decade ago when I was turning 29, so apparently the end-of-decade birthdays trigger something in me. There’s the common saying, “40 is the new 30″, but I have a feeling this was coined by someone in their 40’s trying to make themselves feel better. I will admit that I definitely have my act more together now than when I was 29. I think it is more just the simple fact that time has passed so quickly and I wish I could apply the brakes. I used to think people my age were, well, middle aged. I don’t feel “middle” now…especially as it implies that the rest is downhill. I don’t feel old, but saying that I am turning 39 still sounds old to me.

I’m not making sense. I know. I’ll stop now.

I know I should be more diligent about posting…I just haven’t had anything very exciting happen to me since the plane crash. And, to be honest, I’ve been wasting my time on Facebook. I can’t explain it.

Let’s see….what’s been going on?

I got the flu and was down for the count for 4 days with a fever of 102-103. This has since manifested itself into another sinus infection, for which my terrible doctor prescribed the very antibiotic that I am allergic to. I now have a rash all over both ankles. Thanks, doc. You’re fired.

I’ve been super busy at work, and am going to NYC next week for a few days. This means I won’t be home for my birthday.

We’re planning Zoe’s 4th birthday party, and I’m SO excited because her best friend from daycare who moved away to Texas is coming to surprise her (with her Mama, of course).

Anyway, if there is anyone out there still reading this, bear with me. I’ll try to be better at regular postings, and will also try to keep them interesting.

Or: A Series of Unfortunate Events, Martin-style

So, my MIL decides over Christmas to get married to a wonderful guy, and they decide to have the wedding in Virgin Gorda. Okay, so maybe Stan and I suggested that might be cool. Whatever. So, they settle on getting married on 3/25/08. But I have to go and ruin it by having to go to work - an offsite meeting that I can’t miss on 3/26/08. (I dunno…I’ve been there 5 months already…I don’t know what the big deal is about how much vacation I’ve taken. Two weeks in India. One week in Yosemite. One week in Mexico. Two days in BVI. What??!??) Okay. Back to the subject at hand. So, they move the wedding to Monday 3/25 to accommodate me, thankyouverymuch. We leave the Bay Area on Sunday, 7 am flight. This is where the fun begins.

0.1 {Prologue to Sunday} My BIL gets robbed at gunpoint while getting cash at an ATM for his vacation.

1. Sunday: we wake up late and rush like bats out of hell to get to the airport.

2. 7 am flight is delayed. For three hours. Mechanical problem.

3. Can’t fix plane. Get another one.

4. That plane is broken too. We are now going to miss our connection to St. Thomas, which means there is no way we can make the wedding at 11 am the next day. Wedding must be delayed.

5. We get re-routed to Tortola Island through New York, but have to spend the night in a hotel. When we get to JFK airport, there is no luggage. Shit. We have exactly one diaper left for Jonah.

6. Arrive at hotel around midnight. Request 4 am wake up call. If you’re doing the math, that means 4 hours of sleep if we had been able to go to sleep immediately. With the two kids. Stan calls American Airlines to see about our luggage. They don’t know where it is.

7. Monday, 4 am: take cab to Walgreens to get diapers, underwear, and tampons. Great.

8. Arrive in Tortola, meet Alice and Jon, take ferry to Virgin Gorda. Get a voicemail from my sister: “Hi Ali. Give me a call - I want to talk about Mom.” I think she has something to vent, like Mom bought her girls more dolls or something. Oh, no. My mom has been hospitalized. Thought she was having a heart attack. (She wasn’t, and she’s fine…it was just over-exertion. But still.)

9. We all have to find borrowed/new clothes to wear to the wedding. All our fancies were in our suitcases.

10. Wedding is beautiful. So are Painkillers.

11. I prepare to leave the next morning at 8 am. F*%K. I haven’t even gone swimming in the lovely, warm ocean. Not that I could have, since I didn’t have my bathing suit. It was in my suitcase.

12. Tuesday morning, 7 am: leave for Virgin Gorda airport. [read: long, gravel path they claim is a runway]. Weather is stormy, pouring rain, wind sock flying straight out. Did I mention I have a fear of flying? Especially in small planes? I call Stan to tell him I love him…you know, just in case. Then a tiny freaking airplane lands.

Me: You have got to be kidding me. I’m not getting on that plane.

Stan: I didn’t think you’d like it.

Me: Oh, okay. That’s not my plane. Here is my plane landing. (thought to myself, not vocalized: “Wow. That plane is going really fast and there isn’t much room left on the runway.”)

pause

Me: The airplane just crashed.

Stan: What?!?

Me: The airplane just crashed INTO THE AIRPORT.

Both: laughter [Note: no one was hurt. However, I am notoriously bad at inappropriate laughter]

Stan: I guess you can stay longer now?

You know I couldn’t possibly be making this up, but just in case you don’t believe me, read this.

13. I call my boss, explain that my plane has just crashed (sans moi), and I won’t be able to make the meeting in person. Can I just call in?

14. Did I mention that my Zoloft was in the lost suitcase? (Yes, I do know you’re not supposed to check medicine…) Did you know you’re not supposed to quit cold turkey? Otherwise, this is what can happen. I did get that s*!t refilled this morning and now I am almost feeling normal again.

So, I am home now, sans family because this is Stan’s spring break week. They’ll all be home on Monday. Yes, I will have three whole days alone. {guilty smile. bad mama.} American Airlines still has no clue where our luggage is. I even looked at all three airports where they would logically be as I was traveling home. This I do not understand. I’ll save that rant for later.

Do I sound like I had a great time, or what? We Martins know how to take a vacation.

This is my very first meme…it’s so exciting! I’ll do my best to share something interesting, funny, just revealing enough to keep you reading. Here goes.

1. I talk to one or both of my sisters on the phone almost every day.

2. I have an irrational fear of spiders. I know it is irrational, but that doesn’t help. Even looking at a picture of a spider makes my heart race. I almost crashed my car while driving from Santa Cruz to Oceanside because a jumping spider decided to jump straight towards my face. Don’t know why it was in my car in the first place. My other fears include claustrophobia and enochlophobia, especially as the latter relates to mosh pits at concerts.

3. I didn’t have a date for my high school prom, so I went with my best friend instead. Actually, we DID have dates - my (soon-to-be ex) boyfriend and his best friend. Then his parents found out I wasn’t Mormon, so taking me to the prom was out of the question. The thing was, my best friend and I were nominated prom princesses (I know…*gag*) so we decided that lack of dates wasn’t going to keep us from our glory. We went to a drive thru mexican food place for dinner. Then VW we were driving stalled and wouldn’t start again. As I was trying to call one of our parents on a pay phone (yes, I am old enough that that was BEFORE cell phones), a car full of Marines drove past screaming, “Lookin’ for a date, baby?” Sadly, my answer would have to be yes, though I kept silent. I ended up push starting the car in my prom dress and high heels. Neither of us won prom queen (thankfully), but after that everyone at school decided we must be lesbians. And that is my prom story.

4. Many years ago, I was on the cover of Sailing magazine along with Stan, my MIL, and two other crew members. We were not aware that we were on the cover, until Stan saw it on the magazine rack in West Marine.

5. I love Vosges chocolate, especially the Goji bar. The runner up is the Barcelona bar.

6. I am convinced that some day I will win the lottery. It just has to happen.

7. When I am feeling stressed, I often count my steps as I am walking somewhere. My sister calls this my ‘counting disorder’.

Okay…now I’m no longer a meme virgin. The only other blog I can think to tag would be Mrs. Flinger. Thanks for tagging me, Anne!

Okay. I’ll ‘fess up. I am writing this while sitting on my couch at home. I have been woefully remiss in actually posting these events in anything remotely resembling timely. Needless to say, I’ve sort of lost my steam in writing about this trip. I will share that the rest of the trip was great and included sightseeing in Mumbai (Gateway of India), including great shopping. We flew to Dehli and then drove to Agra where we went to see the Taj Mahal. The Taj Mahal was incredible, but I have to say that Agra Fort really blew me away. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but the inside was palatial (literally!). So, instead of going into great detail, I’ll just share some pics (excuse the amateur layout…I’m tired now.):

Auspicious:  adj.: Marked by lucky signs or good omens, and therefore by the promise of success or happiness.
February 10, 2008 and the days immediately before and after were very auspicious days by Indian standards, and because of this there were weddings all over Mumbai. However, in my mind there was only one.

Preparations began around 1:30 pm, marked by the arrival of Atma with his Mom and Dad and all his aunties, along with the stylist.

Before everyone arrived, Theresa, Marilyne, and I ate breakfast outside next to the fountain, and Theresa excused herself to go sit by the pool and listen to music and hyperventilate. We had a very nice morning, trying to create a tranquil environment for the bride to be. An exciting and frenetic atmosphere replaced the calm environment that defined the morning. Preparations began with Theresa putting on her turquoise sari slip and top, inserting the gold and diamond earrings that would soon prove to be devices of torture, and sitting down to have her hair done.

The Aunties swooped in and began by dressing Marilyne in her sari.
Watching a sari being put on is really something. The precision with which the pleats are folded is something that clearly takes years of practice. First, the sari is tucked into the waistband of the slip and wrapped around once. Then the pleats for the material that is draped over the shoulder are folded and the material is pinned to the sari top with a decorative brooch to keep it in place. Next the front pleats are folded and this is where things get tricky. Somehow, they manage to keep the pleats folded and in the right place while they wrap the material around again, pulling and tugging here and there to get everything lined up correctly. Several pins are put in to hold the sari in the right place. Then, voila! You’re dressed in yards and yards of beautiful silk. It was my turn to be dressed next. After we both had our saris on, we forced our hands into the colorful bangles. This, for me, would end up being a mistake. My huge American-sized hands are just not meant to wear these petite Indian bangles and I would pay for this later as I tried (unsuccessfully) to extract my hands from them at the end of the night without peeling several layers of skin off as well. But I digress.

With Marilyne and myself dressed, the Aunties began preening each other, but with most of the attention on Theresa. The stylist began with braids on either side of Theresa’s head. She then attached a long, black hair extension and pulled all her hair into a long ponytail that was braided and wrapped in long garlands of tuberose. It was beautiful. With her hair done, the stylist started applying more makeup, even though Theresa had already done her own makeup (mainly, more black eyeliner was applied). Now it was time to put on the sari. The same process ensued as described above. Once dressed, Theresa looked so stunning that it brought tears to my eyes, and I had a hard time believing that my little sister was the one standing in front of me. She looked just like a princess out of a fairytale. Finally, Meenakshi was dressed in her sari. We were ready to depart for the temple.

Manu, Atma’s oldest brother, drove us in over to the temple. I will pause here to remind everyone that an Indian wedding is much, much different from our American weddings. They are very involved, with many parts to the marriage ceremony. Also keep in mind that everything is being spoken in Tulu. We arrive at the temple and remove our shoes. From that point on, the three of us (Theresa, Marilyne, and myself) cease to know what to do or expect next. I can’t even really tell you what happened because I don’t really know, and I was not allowed my camera (nor could I have taken pictures anyway because I was busy with the ceremony). We did what we were told, following the points and nudges from various members of Atma’s family. I know that we were led up to a platform where a fire pit was being prepared. Then we were handed flowers (tuberoses, I think), and led into the actual temple. We handed the flowers to a priest who was standing inside shrine-like area. We met a few people inside the temple, and headed back out to the outside platform where the marriage ceremony was to take place. The fire was lit (I believe it was sandalwood they were burning), and while the ceremony was beautiful to watch, I didn’t know what each part meant. Some leaves were dipped into what I presume was holy water, and sprinkled on Theresa and Atma. Rice was thrown into the fire, and onto Theresa and Atma. Each member of the family (us included) dotted their foreheads with red tikka powder. Water was poured over their hands by Atma’s Aunt and Uncle (they actually gave Theresa away as she needed to be given away by a married couple). The red sari was passed from me to Atma’s mom, after passing it back and forth three times. The priest blessed the mangalsutra –the necklace that is the Indian equivalent of a wedding ring. Theresa and Atma circled the fire three times, exchanged beautiful flower wreaths which each placed on the others neck. Then they were married. I wish I could more accurately describe what happened, but it is a bit of a blur because I felt confused most of the time, not knowing what to do. After the ceremony was done, the women headed back to the dressing room at the temple so Theresa could change into her red sari. This whole process took much longer than anyone anticipated, as her hair was put up in an elaborate bun in addition to being completely redressed. This resulted in missing the daily temple Aarti ceremony, which greatly upset Atma’s father. Probably because this particular Aarti was being done in Atma and Theresa’s honor.

The next part of the wedding was the reception. Only immediate family and very close family friends attended the ceremony, while the reception is where the bride and groom meet and greet the 500 other people who come to give their congratulations. The number of people standing in line to shake was amazing. Each group stepped up, took a bit of rice and threw it on Atma and Theresa’s heads, shook their hands, and stood on either side to have their picture taken with the royal looking couple. This continued. For hours. I was tired after just a couple of hours, but Atma and Theresa smiled the whole time, shaking hands and greeting people. They looked beautiful together.

Sunday, February 10, 2008, Hotel

Quick flashback to last night. We finally finished with the mehendi, after a total of about 15 hours of work, 12 of which were on Theresa. We headed over to Atma’s parents house, where all of his relatives were. When we got there, there were about twenty people there: aunts and uncles, cousins, brothers, nieces and nephews. Manu said it was the first time they had all been together in longer than he could remember, so in addition to a celebration for their wedding, there was added excitement of everyone being together.

We were just sort of hanging out visiting when Auntie Meenakshi told me to get my camera. Atma was sitting at the table with his shirt off, and a bowl of yellow liquid sitting at the table. I had found a description of a Bunt wedding ceremony online, and part of it included the bride and groom being bathed in coconut milk and turmeric (the ceremony is called Mangalasnana. Atma said this part wouldn’t happen, but he was wrong. (obviously we weren’t going to do it to Theresa….) His mother started the ceremonial bathing by rubbing the mixture on his face and shoulders. Each member of his family followed: first his aunts, then his uncles, finished by his brothers. By the end his face, shoulders, neck, chest, torso, arms, and legs were covered in coconut milk and turmeric. He went of to shower, and Atma’s aunt summoned me into the bedroom. I was to try on my sari.

We took my beautiful sari and blouse out of the bag, and I put on the blouse and slip. Auntie Prashanti unfolded the yards and yards of silk and started folding one end of it into perfectly measured pleats (I’m not sure I can ever replicate this, but it is supposed to be easy). She then draped the pleats over my left shoulder and pinned in onto the blouse behind my shoulder. Then she started wrapping the sari around my body. She started pleating the front part of the sari, again perfectly measured. These pleats were then tucked into the waistband of the slip. She tugged and pulled and adjusted the material, and voila! I was in a sari. It was actually very comfortable, much easier to wear than I anticipated. We took some pictures and then Auntie Prashanti told me to go out and show everyone, and walk through the house to get used to the feel. All Atma’s uncles were sitting in the living room, right outside the bedroom where I was dressing. All his aunts were standing around the table and in the kitchen. All watching me. I was really concentrating on not tripping…the sari really comes all the way to the floor, and I have to admit that I am not known for my grace. One of his uncles told me that I looked just like an Indian girl, which was a great compliment! I tried my shoes on, and once Atma’s mom and Aunt were confident that I could successfully wear the sari, we went back into the bedroom and took it off. Auntie Prashanti took the sari off and again folded the yards of silk perfectly.

Then it was Theresa’s turn to make sure her blouses fit properly. It was just the two of us in the room, and when she put her red blouse on it was obvious that it was much too small. So was the blue one. Instead of making the blouses half an inch bigger than Meenakshi’s as the tailor was instructed to do, it seemed that he made them both half an inch smaller. I went out to tell Atma that they didn’t fit, and he was quite alarmed, immediately calling the tailor to tell him the problem. The tailor said he would fix them that night if we brought them in. The problem was that the traffic on the way over to his parents house was very heavy and it was getting late. Auntie Prashanti came to the rescue though, as she is apparently a seamstress. Within an hour, she had both blouses fixed. Disaster averted. Apparently Manu gave the tailor quite an earful when he learned what had happened.

We went back out, and headed to the back of the house into his parents’ room to organize the jewelry that Theresa will wear for the wedding. They spent quite a bit of time organizing all the jewelry – the toe rings, anklets, bangles, earrings, necklaces, rings, and brooches. The bangles were arranged alternating the colored bangles with gold. This was quite a process, with his mom, two of his aunts, and Sarita (Manu’s girlfriend) all working on arranging the bangles just so. They tied each bundle together with a red string to make sure they stayed together in the proper order. There are two sets of bangles – one red set for her red wedding sari, and one aqua set for her reception sari. And one set for each arm. The jewelry was carefully packed up, and Auntie Meenakshi kept the gold under her care.

Finally, around 10:30, it was time for dinner. Both Theresa and I were about to pass out from hunger. What a great dinner though – there were two types of biryani, one with lamb and one with fish. There was dal, a dish with garbanzo beans and potatoes, yogurt, rice, chapatti and chutney. It was delicious.

We visited a bit longer, gathered all the things we needed to get ready, and headed home around midnight.

So here we are now, the wedding day. Theresa is packing up because obviously she won’t be staying here with us tonight. Meenakshi, Auntie Prashanti, and Sarita are coming over around noon or so, along with the hairdressers so we can all get ready. I’m sure this will be a spectacular event. I’ll do my best to remember everything so I can document it tomorrow.

Saturday, February 9, Hotel

We scheduled for the mehendi artist to arrive around 10 am, giving ourselves some time in the morning for a leisurely breakfast. Theresa and I woke up around the same time feeling really uncomfortable with the dried mehendi all over us. We agreed it was time to scrape of the scab-like pieces off, so we headed off to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub and brushed off the mehendi. It felt SOOOO good! It was scratching a sunburn or a scab…you know what I’m talking about. Marilyne came in and started laughing at us because we were such a sight. And the bed sheets…well, they were a disaster. We did have a lovely breakfast. The wait staff here is so polite and friendly. Everyone has been. So far I am quite taken with India. Theresa finished breakfast and went out to the pool to have a chance to meditate and find some calm while Marilyne and I lingered over our tea and latte and wonderful fruit. I joined her by the pool and we called Meri. Then we went back in to find Marilyne and call Atma to see what time to expect the mehendi artist. Apparently 10 am in India means something different than 10 am in the US. He arrived at 1:30 pm, but we didn’t really have any plans for today anyway.

Before the mehendi artist arrived, Atma’s uncles came to meet Theresa. They arrived this morning from Mangalore. His grand uncle came, which is a very big honor for Atma and Theresa that he made the trip. He is the eldest of the family and so is considered the family patriarch. They are awesome uncles. They were asking about our saris, and were very interested in how Theresa’s hair was going to be done for the wedding. It’s fascinating – men here are incredibly involved in the wedding planning, even down to what the women are wearing. It’s kind of cool, I think. Anyway, they were discussing whether Theresa was going to dye her hair black, and even though she assured them she would not, they continued discussing the topic. They also asked how I would be wearing my hair. Keep in mind that this discussion is being held in Tulu and being translated by Atma. We all had tea in the garden together, and then Marilyne went back up to the room to rest while we headed to the temple. The temple, very conveniently, is right next door to the hotel and is easily walked to. We looked around a bit and ended up having lunch there. There was a man sitting and singing a prayer before lunch. It was beautiful and serene to hear. We all walked back to the hotel and the uncles went back to Atma’s parents house.

The mehendi artist finally arrived, and here we are. Theresa is being painted, and Marilyne and I watching Fellowship of the rings with her. Atma is checking email and I am trying to catch up everyone who isn’t here on the happenings thus far. After Theresa is done, Marilyne will get henna, then I’ll have mine done as well. So, from here I will try as diligently as I can to keep up, but I can pretty much guarantee that nothing will be posted tomorrow because tomorrow is the wedding. Stay tuned, though. I’m sure it will really be something!

Friday, February 8, 2008

Location: Mulund, Mumbai

Today was Theresa’s henna (mehendi) ceremony. Indian brides are ornately decorated with henna for the wedding ceremony. The decorations have become more elaborate, with the decorations being applied all the way up the arms and on the feet and ankles. This was an incredible thing to witness, both because of the artistry and intricacy of the design, and because of how long the whole thing took. The mehendi artist arrived late, after riding his motorcycle more than an hour, getting a flat tire, and then a ticket. Because of this, everything got started a little late. We were told it would take 3-4 hours, but apparently this was Indian time. It actually went for 8 hours, and he wasn’t finished at the end of the day so as I write this on Saturday, the mehendi artist has just arrived to finish up Theresa, Marilyne, and myself.

The ceremony began by lighting an oil lamp on the table, and Atma’s mom blessed the mehendi and applied small dots of it to Theresa and Atma’s palms. She also dotted red bindis from a powder called tikka onto their foreheads.

The mehendi artist starts out by taking out cards with pictures of various designs, and Theresa had to decide what she wanted to have. He then rubs eucalyptus oil onto her hands and arms. Then the artistry begins. It is amazing to watch because the artist is so totally concentrated on what he is doing. Very steady hands, and amazing control over the plastic tubes filled with mehendi. After he finishes a section he dabs on limejuice mixed with sugar. This keeps the mehendi on longer so the color is more intense, and when the sugar and juice mixture dries, it glistens on the skin. After a couple of hours, he gave Theresa a break, and very surprisingly asked if I wanted to have some done. I jumped on the chance, but didn’t realize that he was going to give me such a big design. I wasn’t at all opposed, but felt a little bad that I was taking time away from Theresa. Bad sister. I got an Arabic design, which is more curving in design. The Indian design is more intricate and lacy. While he was working on me, Punam, the girl hired to help Atma’s mom with cooking, offered to give Marilyne some mehendi. This turned out to be a bit of a mistake because while Punam was an extremely sweet girl, her mehendi skills were…still developing. We are hoping the hired mehendi artist can fix some of Punam’s work.

Once he finished my left arm, he started on Theresa again, and Punam wanted to do my right arm. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings so I accepted. The day was quite mellow, just visiting and watching the mehendi being applied. After several hours, another artist showed up to help with Theresa’s feet. She moved more quickly, and her feet were done with within a couple of hours. The whole thing ended at around 11:00 pm….10 hours later. We were all exhausted. Theresa, now covered on both hands with mehendi, needed help with eating and other tasks such as…..well, never mind.

After all was finished, there was a long discussion about our instructions on the care of mehendi. We were to have no showers until Sunday, no contact with water. It was even suggested that we wear long surgical gloves, and could obtain such gloves if we drove to the hospital and picked some up (I’m not making this up…how could I?). Theresa and I kept looking at each other, bewildered at the group concern about how we were going to handle ourselves until Sunday. We promised that we wouldn’t touch water, and so surgical gloves really wouldn’t be necessary.

By the time we got back to the hotel, we collapsed into bed, totally exhausted. It was the first night we all got a full night’s sleep.

We get a free continental breakfast here at the hotel. I was thinking it would be the same as in the US – bins of cereal, bread, and bad juice. Oh no. This was a full spread of beautiful fruit, delicious looking breads, cheese and cold cuts, and hot breakfast – Indian style or other. We each had a HUGE breakfast. Mine included scrambled eggs with cheese, masala dosa - which is a burrito like thing with potatoes and onions and spices all rolled up and served with chutney, idlis – little rice cakes that you dip in a delicious chutney, delicious mango juice, and chai. It was delicious.

After breakfast, we walked through the garden and over to the pool to enjoy the sun. The weather has been very cool for India – quite comfortable by my standards though. Atma picked us up and we were off to his parents house.

I met his parents, Rajshekar and Meenakshi. Very nice, welcoming, and friendly people. We visited for a while, and then we were off to go sari shopping!!!

The drive to the shopping district was a bit more entertaining, as we were now at the mercy of the driver Atma’s parents had hired who is hard of hearing. Honking is a major way of communicating on the roads in India, so being hard of hearing is a bigger deal than it sounds. It seems totally impossible that we didn’t hit any other cars, trucks, busses, motorcyclists, taxis, rickshaws, dogs, pedestrians, bicyclists, or cows as we were driving. It’s like an elaborate dance that you can’t quite figure out the rhythm to. It’s no wonder they don’t let foreigners drive. When you rent a car here, it comes with a driver. Don’t get me wrong – it wasn’t scary, it was fascinating. We arrived at the sari place without incident, parked, stepped over the dead rat in the gutter, and entered the sari store. Up on the second floor, we sat in chairs across from the sales people on the other side of a wide counter. Meenakshi asked what kind of sari I wanted to look at. I had seen the sari Theresa was going to wear for the reception and indicated that would be a nice place to start. (How do I know?!?) They started bringing saris out from the shelves, and I was presented with the most stunning colors and designs of silk that I’ve ever seen. It was totally overwhelming because they were all so beautiful, I was helped by Meenakshi so I wouldn’t pick a color that was too close to either her sari or Theresa’s saris. Theresa will be wearing two – a red one for the wedding ceremony and a teal one for the reception. After looking at several, I tried one on. This tiny woman started wrapping me in yards of silk, expertly folding and folding the front pleats and placing my hands where she wanted me to hold everything in place. I’m not sure how I’m going to keep from killing my self while trying to walk in a sari, or accidentally disrobing myself by pulling the wrong thing. But I trust it will all be okay. Anyway, trying on saris was so fun. They are all incredibly beautiful. Theresa tried some on for me because it is easier to see it on someone else. We tried on 8 or 10 different ones and finally made a decision.

Trying on saris

Marilyne wasn’t going to wear a sari, but after seeing how beautiful they are and with a little influence from Theresa, and myself she agreed she would wear one. She was more decisive than I was and only had to try on three or four before she made her decision. We then were measured for the blouse that we’ll wear underneath, and everything was promised to be ready the next evening.

We headed upstairs to look for a salwar kamis that I will wear for the mehendi ceremony. Theresa already bought hers and it’s gorgeous. I was shown a few and knew right away which one I liked. I ended up trying on several because Meenakshi wanted me to and I kind of liked trying them. There are a couple different style of pants. The traditional style is very loose, and the more modern style has pants that are very fitted near the ankles. Meenaksi wanted me to try on some of the more modern styles, but they didn’t fit….big tall American woman trying to fit into fitted Indian women’s clothing….I don’t think so. So I decided on the salwar kamis I liked at first, then Marilyne, Theresa, and I picked out some silk scarves. So much fun!

We headed back to Atma’s parents house for a late lunch, took a nap, and headed out for more shopping…this time for shoes and bangles. So, keep in mind that I am a 5’10” tall woman with size 11 feet in a country filled with some of the most petite, beautiful women in the world. I wasn’t optimistic about finding shoes or bangles that would fit my Amazon sized hands and feet. In the bangle shop they pulled out the largest size bangle and tried shoving it over my hand. It shattered on the counter and the sales girl looked at me with a bewildered look and then looked at the sales man who was in charge. He just shrugged and told her to try different ones. Not bigger ones, Just different. Eventually they were able to find some that both coordinated with my sari and could withstand being forced over my hands. Now on to the joy of finding shoes…I was sort of dreading this part, but surprisingly they had several pairs that fit me, so I was able to find a pair that will look nice. They have an interesting system for fetching shoes here. The salesman on the floor takes the shoe you want to try on and throws it up a hole in the ceiling to a boy waiting above. He finds the shoes mate and throws the box down the hole in the ceiling. You have to be aware of this because it can be perilous to mis-time being under the hole. Atma needed shoes also so we went to another shoe store. I was sitting next to Sushima – Atma’s sister-in-law – while he was waiting for shoes to be delivered. My seat was almost directly under the hole in the ceiling. You see, I was naïve to the potential peril of the situation. As they are about to throw a box down for Atma, I look up to see a tower of shoeboxes coming down the hole in an uncontrolled manner. I throw my hands over my head and duck away, miraculously avoiding being pummeled by shoeboxes. Lesson learned: check, check. We didn’t find any shoes for Atma so we headed home.

This time instead of driving in the car I hopped in a rickshaw with Theresa and Atma. It was fun and exhilarating, just as I remember the tuk tuks being in Thailand. It really is absolutely remarkable that things work so well. You literally get within an inch or two of other vehicles. It was very dusty and polluted, so we covered our faces with the beautiful scarves we bought earlier.

We had a lovely dinner at Atma’s parents house, visited a little longer, and then headed home (to the hotel), exhausted.