Tuesday, September 05, 2006

D-Town Visit

Raj and I got back home late last night, after arriving in Newark Airport tired and happy, paying $28 for train tickets, and taking the tram to the platform only to find that the next train was not going to arrive for another hour and 20 minutes. Bloody hell! Raj said he was willing to wait for the train. I said that there was no way in holy hell that I was going to wait, and that I was never, ever going to fly into Newark Airport again - over my dead body. So, we decided to cab it. Thankfully, we were later spared our hard-earned $60 because we happened upon a shuttle bus going into the City. Hurrah!

It was so great to walk into our apartment and to sleep in our bed last night. The accomodations at Raj's parents house were lovely. However, him in the basement and me two floors up in his old bedroom is not my ideal situtation. It's very difficult to snuggle with someone under those circumstances.

Despite the lack of snuggling, I had a wonderful weekend with Raj at his parents' house. They were warm, hospitable, friendly, interested in getting to know me better, and right from the beginning they made me feel welcome. I could not have asked for them to treat me any better than they did, because it would have been impossible for them to do so.

One of the highlights of the weekend was when I, in a personal moment of truth, forwent my fork and ate my rice and curry with my fingers as is the Indian custom. At first I was trying to be neat, so was awkwardly using only three of my fingers. Raj's father put a quick stop to that when he informed me that I needed to learn how to use my fingers correctly and showed me how to use all five fingers. I told him I was trying my best and we all laughed. It was nice to have my non-Indian-ness treated so openly, and like it was ok, and I was happy that his father felt comfortable enough with me that he wanted to help me. Instead of seeing me as a hopeless white girl, Raj's father saw me as someone who could learn, and more importantly as someone who wanted to learn. That's all I can ask.

Another hightlight was getting the chance to spend some time with my friends!! Raj and I spent a few hours with my close friend Wood, her husband Dutch, and their baby Juniper on Friday afternoon, and then another hour and a 1/2 on Saturday evening. They had no furniture in their home, as they are in the process of moving from San Fran to Detroit, so we sprawled across their hardwood floors and had some beers. It was pretty much perfect. Driving away from their house on Saturday night, I missed them already. Luckily, we have a wedding in Detroit in October, so we'll be able to visit with them again soon.

We did not go to our favorite breakfast place, and I was deprived the chance to taste my favorite raisin toast, so that's also on the agenda for our next visit to Michigan.

I have many other updates, all of which are good except for one relating to laser hair removal and my ongoing saga with the repercussions of my somewhat hasty decision to rid my bikini area of unwanted hair. Be afraid, be very afraid. It has to do with something suspiciously resembling a boil - grotesque, I know - and the calamitous effects of bombing one's body with antibiotics. Suffice it to say for now that the delicate balance between my flora and fauna has been thrown into a state of chaos. Where at one time, just a few short weeks ago, the bacteria and yeast in my body lived togeter in symbiotic harmony, they are now embroiled in a bitter war to the death, and my body is paying the price. Antibiotics are like nuclear weapons, they should be avoided at all cost.

Unfortunately, work is calling - sigh - and I'll have to wait for a later post to fill in the details of that saga. It's nice to be back.

1 comment:

Gypsy said...

Welcome back! Glad you had a safe and happy trip. And that you learned neat cultural traditions. Eating rice with fingers -- I think I could be down with that.

As to your flora and fauna (that cracked me up by the way) being off-kilter, that is no fun. No, none at all.

P.S. If I end up commenting eleven hundred and ninety two times it's because Blogger hates me.