Are you a weaver or a wrapper?

I’ve been thinking about this topic for a long time…how people approach life and integrate experiences into who they are. After I returned from India for Theresa and Atma’s wedding, I realized how much the trip had changed me, and how India will now always be a part of me…becoming part of the tapestry that makes me…me. This has always been how travel has affected me, and it made me wonder if it is the same for everyone, or if other people are able to enjoy the places they visit but don’t come out of it feeling ‘different’. Which is what led me to the concept of weavers and wrappers.

If each person is like a unique and beautiful tapestry, do we start out as an empty loom? Do we have some fundamental design that we get from our family that is built upon throughout our lives? Or is our design set? Here is what I think:

A weaver integrates the experiences of life into their tapestry, meaning they will never really know what the final outcome is until…well, I guess until the end. Each day, each new place, new experience, each person who touches our lives adds to the color and texture of what we are. This means though, that our tapestry is really never finished.

A wrapper takes comfort in knowing who they are and where they came from. Their design comes from their family and ancestry, their nationality, or whatever they feel truly defines them and makes them fundamentally who they are. This doesn’t mean they do not enjoy new experiences, or are closed to new cultures. It means that they observe and appreciate these things with some level of detachment, much as an anthropologist must remain unbiased.

I consider myself a weaver. What are you? What do you think about this theory?

Delicious

Last week as we were driving up to visit friends in Ashland, Oregon, we stopped at Lake Shasta for the night. At breakfast, both the kids ordered hot chocolate and, as expected, there was a spill. Not Jonah, the 2 1/2 year old, but Zoe the BIG kid. She spilled the WHOLE cup all over herself. Luckily, she had diluted it with like 9 little creamers, so it wasn’t too hot. But she was

covered

in hot chocolate. A chocolate covered Zoe. So, we excuse ourselves and hoof it back to our room to clean her up. On the way there, she licks her arm and says, “MMMMmmm! I taste GOOD!” And it reminded me of this, which I found on StumbleUpon.

Vegas, baby!

So, I had SUCH a great weekend! My bf from college and I have been planning a road trip for like…EVER. We have been planning this ever since the movie Thelma & Louise came out. A cliche, I know. Anyway, as it turned out, we never did this road trip. Then I moved to N. Cal. Then we both had babies. Then we both had our second babies. And we worried that this trip would never happen. When Stan planned his trip to Mexico with the kids to visit his dad and step mom, I thought to myself, “This is my chance!”. So Daria and I decided Las Vegas would be a good choice.

We stayed at the Red Rock Casino and Spa….aaaaaahhhhh. I have never done a whole spa-day thing and it was truly heaven. Facial. Pedi. Scalp and foot treatment. Relaxed by the pool. All. Day. Long. Had dinner. Then, I said I wanted to try my hand at craps. I’ve never played and I think I like it. Maybe it was just beginners luck, but I won about $300. Nice.

There is the saying, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” I wish I could coyly say that was our motto, but we are old married ladies with two kids. We were in bed before midnight both nights, but we had such a great time.

And now I’m addicted to Craps.

My fabulous vacation to the British Virgin Islands

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.

Say Sari!

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.