I Feel Like I'm Taking Crazy Pills

Before I left for India, my in laws suggested I take sleeping pills along for the long plane rides. That's what they do for Hawaii, so my father-in-law prescribed me some generic Ambien. Reading the bottle was slightly worrying, with warnings such as: "Side effects may include doing things in the night you don't remember like getting up, killing people, or having sexual relations with strangers," or something like that. This worried me, but Mike said, "What's the worst you can do? You'll be on a plane."

So on the way over, I took a pill for the Amsterdam to Delhi leg. I don't really remember much about that flight or what I did on it. I just have this vague remembrance of being woken up for food. I remember blurry squares on my tray filled with round things and me holding a fork and trying to figure out how to get the fork to the food and then into my mouth. I had a conversation with my friendly neighbor, but I have no idea what I said to that poor man. Or was it a woman? In the morning, I gazed over at him/her, wondering what might have transpired betwewen us.

Once in India, I took the pills a couple nights to get over jet lag, but I don't think I killed anyone because I was locked in my own room. (But you never do know, do you?)

On the way home from India, I was sick and desperate for sleep. So on the Amsterdam Detroit leg, I took another crazy pill. I couldn't resist. All was going well, I was sleeping like a baby. But then the food came again. It was more blurry boxes with I have no recollection what inside. I was focusing again on the very tricky question of how to get the fork into the food and then somehow into my mouth. I couldn't quite remember where my mouth was.

Then the flight attendant grossly overestimated me. She handed me a glass of orange juice. I was already in the fork/food/mouth dilemma, and this was simply too much for my beslushed brain, so I fumbled and spilled said juice all over the man sitting next to me. I wouldn't remember this except that I have a distinct visual in my head of his right leg with a very large wet blotch and him running for the bathroom.

I don't remember much after that. It was disturbing somehow, so I went to sleep. I don't know that I knew enough to apologize to him. I might have just gazed over at him like a fish, vaguely moving my lips in mock speech.

In the morning, I woke up. The flight attendant offered me more orange juice, and it all came back to me. I realized what had happened and knew that I must make ammends to this man.

I proceeded to apologize profusely to this man, but, to my surprise, when I opened my mouth to speak, only a frog's croak came out. Somehow during my drugged sleep, I'd lost my voice and only the worst croaking sound was left. I didn't know how bad I sounded until this morning. My husband now has Asian bird flu, and in the middle of the night, he apparently advanced to the frog voice part of the illness. He was getting up, and in the worst creaky, crackly, croaky voice I've ever heard, he screeched, "I'm going to another room to sleep," sounding oddly like a 120-year-old witch doctor.

So what must I have sounded like to that poor man, whom I'd already doused in buckets of orange juice and then screeched my profuse apologies at like an old hag? He probably just wanted to run away to the bathroom again. I should have stopped talking at him, but I couldn't, so humiliated with the night's activities and fascinated with my new witch-like voice.

The man was from North Carolina, so he was gracious to me. But let this be a lesson to you before taking crazy pills in a public location.

P.S. Extra friend point for whoever can say the line that follows the quote that is the title of my blog.

22 Things

Thanks to large quantities of NyQuil, DayQuil, and phlegm (I know, gross), I'm not feeling very creative right now. So I'm going to do one of those email forward type things. I was tagged on Facebook to write 25 things about myself and forward it to 25 people. But I can't think of 25 people to forward it to, so I'll just post them here. And besides, I could only think of 22 things.

1. My middle name is Noel, but I wasn't born in December, nor do I, as a person, have any other relation to Christmas. In elementary school, boys would routinely say, "Your middle name is "Noel"? (pronounced the guy way), because they were dumb.

2. If I could do anything (and be good at it), I'd be a Broadway singer and dancer.

3. I still bite my nails. I don't intend to stop.

4. I run into things a lot. At any given time, I look like a 9-year-old boy with bruises all over my legs and arms that I can't quite specify how they got there.

5. I want to get degrees in history, philosophy, medieval lit, and many other useless subjects.

6. I'm happiest outside, away from society but not toilets.

7. I (therefore) still dream of retiring to a mountain cabin someday.

8. I tend to like melancholy bands with men who sing high (Coldplay, for example).

9. I don't pay attention to music or watch popular movies (unless I have to review a movie, and despite the fact that I really like music).

10. I watch 3 channels on TV: Food Network, HGTV, and Travel. They're 43, 44, and 45, so I don't have to think very hard.

11. I'm an idea person and, subsequently, excited, unstable, and dissatisfied much of the time.

12. I get passionate about many things, but don't always have much perseverance (though I try to persevere nonetheless).

13. If I didn't have a guilt complex and a husband, I would probably eat cereal for at least 2 meals a day. I don't really like eating meat most of the time, but I do it anyway just because.

14. I like to write. I want to be a travel writer or a humor writer, but it seems so frivolous. (See number 19.)

15. I have no tattoos, and I hate wearing earrings or much of any jewelry. I love wearing makeup, but I hate doing my hair (so I don't, usually).

16. I love to discuss deep things, but am not good at starting the conversation and get very self-conscious.

17. Every day, I wake up really excited to eat breakfast. I marvel each day at how my body needs food every day, so often, and I get to eat it. What a fun part of life.

18. Of all the places I've ever traveled, and although I love visiting other countries, Colorado is my ultimate favorite place, and I'm so glad I was born here and my family lives here.

19. I have a productivity complex. I have a hard time doing things I don't feel are worthwhile or productive in someway. Like if I read a book, I don't read something light and enjoyable, I read nonfiction that will help educate me. Very annoying habit.

20. I'm always looking ahead to what's next in life. But right now, I have no idea what that is.

21. I often dislike soup.

22. I have really pointy ribs, or bony protuberances as Mike likes to call them, that stick out quite far. If I wear a tight shirt, you could mistake them for my chest. Sad but true. Mike says they are turned the wrong way, so instead of being flat against my organs, they stand out from my body like wings.

Please leave your own interesting or weird fact about yourself in the comments.

Vijay 4ever

I'm still sick in bed with Asian bird flu, but I wanted to share this delectable treat with you. As I mentioned before, I had the incredible opportunity to watch several Indian movies while there. Every movie is a musical and has at least 5 dance numbers. I can't say that I loved them. Typically, our insane driver would be racing down the road in our van at 80 mph nearly killing pedestrian after pedestrian while this music and dance pumped maniacally in the background. This video has Vijay in it--the superstar of Tamil Nadu. His picture was on every street corner. I liked to call him Veggie to annoy my Indian coworkers. Enjoy.

Home

I'm home! And ever so tired. I picked up the Asian bird flu in India, so I had a very rough 48 hour trek home. (So, it's just a cold, but Asian bird flu sounds better.) 

I'm a little overwhelmed by the whole trip, because it was so long and so much happened, so I don't know what to say about it. Luckily, I lost my voice, thanks to Asian bird flu, so I actually can't say much about it. 

Instead, here's a couple of more pictures I posted on flickr. 

Coming Home

Hey there! I just remembered I have a blog! I'd forgotten. I'm sitting in the Chennai airport right now. Check out this itinerary: Leave here at 5 pm, fly to Delhi for 3 hours. In Delhi for 5 hours (during which I switch airports, eek!). Fly to Amsterdam for 9 hours. Sit in Amsterdam for 5 hours. Fly to Detroit for 9 hours. Sit in Detroit for 5 hours. Fly to Denver for 3 hours. I'll have been in transit from Chennai to Denver from 1 pm on Friday to 9:30 am on Monday (India time). 

I'm going to be so tired, and I have a cold. Boo hoo!

I tried to upload some pictures, but the internet only wants to load this one, a grandfather of one of the girls we interviewed. 

I uploaded a couple of pictures to flickr the other day, that I don't remember if I told you about or not. View them here. 

Yesterday, we went to mylapore temple. Crazy and kind of sad place. Many people selling sacrifices and people prostrating themselves and what not. Then we went to the Chennai Beach. Not the nicest beach I've been to--lots of fish skeletons and pretty stinky. But still interesting to see. Miss you all and I'll see you soon!

A Day at Kovalam Beach

I found out where all the white people in India are. For our rest day, we went to the beach, Kovalam Beach, on the Arabian Sea.  I've posted my pictures of it for you here at Flickr. It was a lovely day. 

The Indian women demurely play in the surf holding hands in a long line in their colorful salwar kameez, careful not to get wet above the calf. Young Indian men drape their arms around each other or holds hands (something you see quite often here), and try to figure out how to break into the line of girls. The other Indian men strip down to their knickers and jump in the waters. The lobster-hued Europeans wear far too small of speedos and bikinis and look on from their towels like fleshy shellfish who have lost their shells.

The Americans are the young spiritual sort, looking deep in their dreadlocks and headwraps. When the sun starts to set, they scurry out onto the sand to sit in om position, legs crossed, and meditate. It's a bit odd. All these people coming to India to be spiritual and doing it in the very least Indian place I've seen, a beach resort filled with flabby Australian women and be-speedoed French men. 

We stop at a German bakery along the boardwalk, frankly relieved for a break from authentic India, and anything with "masala," "dosa," or "biryani" in the title. I order a pineapple boat, because it's less than 3 dollars, so how could I not get a fresh pineapple boat on a beach in India? It's warmed up with a scoop of ice cream on top. 

Then we climb up to the lighthouse. From the top of it, you see a white mosque with elegant teardrop towers in the distance. We take many pictures, and they share their photography knowledge with me. Because I'm with people whose cameras that look, with their long zooms, more like machine guns than cameras, we just look serious and impressive, like National Geographic photographers, not tourists. I'm sure. 

As the sun sets and the Americans meditate, the Indians line up on the rocks, watching the salmon sky with their arms around one another. Rats scurry down among the rocks, hoping the distracted spectators will drop their fried banana snacks. 

On the drive home, we try to take pictures in the dark and the others' pictures look like masterpieces and mine look like your 3-year-old's work. A women riding a motorcycle in a blue scarf flutters all the way home in front of us. 

Trivandrum

I've been in Trivandrum for two days now. It is my favorite place we've been so far. Nagercoil was beautiful, but a bit too "rustic" for comfort. Although it has about 2 million people in it, the Indians call it a "village," not a city. For Indians 2 million people is like 2,000, it seems. So this village was very rustic, meaning they don't clean bathrooms. Our hotel was like the 4-star hotel of Nagercoil--as nice as it gets. But the last time my shower was cleaned was when the British left, I believe. You know I exaggerate a lot, but I'm not right now. Thank God for flip-flops, my silk bed sack and my Turkish bath towel I brought with me. 

Trivandrum has beautiful grand buildings jumbled in with the short shabby buildings. It is a more Christian area, where many of the British missionaries moved, so you see many tall churches and universities. And my hotel room is very clean. This makes me very happy. 

Around Trivandrum, the roads are lined with buildings that block your view out. If ever you get a quick view through the buildings, it's beautiful. Rolling hills blanketed in palm trees and rubber trees as far as you can see. Yesterday we had the opportunity to visit one of these areas. We interviewed two people. One is Shibu, a 27-year-old man from a Hindu background who was sponsored through Compassion. When he was younger, his father died. His father's family kicked them out of the home (in India, a married woman goes to live with her husband's family) and wanted nothing to do with them. Shibu's mom couldn't take care of her 3 children, so he was sent to live with an aunt. But they used him as a slave--if he wouldn't do all their work, he wouldn't even get a cup of water. 

But he became sponsored, and was able to move home with his mother and go to school. Through Compassion, he got his degree in graphic design and now has his own business, which he named after his sponsor, and is able to support his mother and sisters.  

The girl we interviewed is named Asweti, whose home we visited. She lives on a beautiful winding road through the hills. There are huts next to beautiful homes--the first really nice homes I've seen anywhere. Her family lived in a shack made of banana leaves. Her father had polio and was confined to a wheel chair and couldn't work, but died when she was in 2nd grade. Her mother works at a construction site. She loads stacks of bricks onto her head and walks them from one side of the site to the other all day. This is very difficult labor. I've seen men doing it, and can't imagine how this thin 45-year-old woman can do it 6 days a week. She has never gone to school.  

The Compassion project found out about the family's poor home that the rain came through and destroyed in the rainy seasons, and they built them a solid cement home. Asweti, the daughter was able to go to school through Compassion. Her brothers work on rubber plantations, but she is getting her masters in commerce and insurance management. A very bright girl. 

The family gave us coconuts with red straws in them before the interview to drink. After the interview, they gave us pasayam, the milky cardamom soup I had yesterday, red bananas, and some kind of baked goods. Here this woman was--a 45-year-old hard laborer with barely anything--serving us a feast. Very humbling. The daughter brought us into the second room of her home to show us her awards. There's no light, so you had to strain to see, but she had the little trophies she'd won in competitions in the Compassion project neatly lined up. Next to them was a chicken who seemed to have the black lung or something dreadful. 

After this interview, I walked up the road, where Jayaseelan had told some neighbors there was an American who had never seen a rubber tree. I was quite a novelty to them. I'm getting used to being stared at. Rubber trees are how many of these people make their living. One of the daughters of the family showed me how they score the tree in a spiral. White milky sap that looks like Elmer's glue drips out and down along the spiral into a cup on the ground. They score the tree everyday to gather rubber and sell it. 

This family was so picturesque and they let me take lots of pictures. Chuck and Dave found out about the picturesque family and came and took even more. My pictures turned out OK, but theirs were stunning. I'm going to steal them and pretend they're mine. Their tata, grandpa, was sitting in a salmon-colored cement building to the right and he let me take his picture. He had a great face. 

Today is a rest day, finally! It's pretty tiring. So we'll lay around then go to the beach in the afternoon. 

Where to Start?!

Hello my friends! Where to start to tell you what's going on? I'm tired, and there's so much to say. This will just be cobbled together nonsense.

Right now, I'm safely in Trivandrum. We left Nagercoil at 2 and drove from Tamil Nadu to Kerala, supposedly the most beautiful area of India. It's so lush--there are forests of palm trees. I'm used to seeing just one or two palm trees on a beach. Here, it's literally forests of them all jungled together. Below the palm tree forests, there will be fields of banana trees, which look like little midget palm trees. As we conduct our interviews, there are so many exotic bird calls. 

On the drive here, we watched a Kaliwood film, which was a lot like an Indian High School Musical but with more graphic violence and ostentatious costumes. For lunch, the Salvation Army project we visited us made us a traditional South Indian lunch. It was served on a big banana leaf, and had about a billion dishes. One was a sweet soup with lentils and cardamom. 

It's Pongal here now, a harvest festival. People draw bright drawings on the ground in sand and decorate cows. They eat a traditional meal made from pongal, which is a bit like grits. At every meal, I get a fresh lime drink. I think Indians only have this for dessert, but we have it as our beverage at every meal cause we're tourists. They put some fresh squeezed lime juice in the bottom of your glass, then you mix in fresh squeezed sugar cane syrup and club soda. Very yummy, like a virgin mojito. You can see people making sugar can syrup on the streets--big rollers press stalks of sugar cane and catch the juice in pitchers. 

Umm...Met my sponsored child day before yesterday. Was great; I'll tell you about that in another post. We travelled from Chennai to Nagercoil on an overnight train. That was fun. We were squeezed into a tiny little compartment and I listened to all my coworkers snore all night. As we arrived in the morning, it was stunning. I poked my head out of the train door, and watched in the dawn light the bumpy hills and palm trees go by. It's hard to get any picture of the beautiful scenery though, because the city so often blocks the view. 

I'm totally sick of Indian food. No offense. But breakfast, lunch, and dinner? No thanks. Eating stroopwaffeln instead.  I suppose I should be sleeping now, as it's 4:30 am. I tried to load pics, but it's going too slow--for those with Facebook access, I added some there. Bye!

Some More Photos

Here are some more photos from India...don't know if the link works...I'll meet Sarath tomorrow then take a train to the south, Nagercoil. Bye!

In the Land of the Maharaja

I'm in India! Don't have much time, so I'll just write some snippets of the journey.

Arrived late into Delhi--1:40 am or so. We had a short layover, so we'd gotten a hotel...but we were already late so it ate up most time for the hotel. But the hotel claimed to be "minutes" from the airport, so we went anyway. It was minutes away...45 minutes to be exact. But I got to see a bit of Delhi, at 2 am, which in my opinion is a bit preferrable to the busy day time. It was so foggy, you couldn't even see the tops of trees or construction cranes. The streets were narrow and, don't know how else to say it, shabby. Many cows and dogs and much trash on the ground, and the buildings in the area we drove through seemed to have no aesthetic sensibility. However, I don't think I can judge all of Delhi by one 45-minute drive through one part of town at 2 am.

We had 2 hours to sleep at the hotel. Luckily, they had a built in alarm system--a chorus of 300 street dogs all baying and jammering away at 4 am. We headed back to the airport after our two-hour rest. The Delhi airport was so interesting, in that it had such a different array of people than I'm used to seeing. Arabs going to Hyderabad, monks going to Tibet, I suppose, and so many Indians look so different from one another.

The toilets were a bit confusing to me, even though I've been thoroughly instructed on their use. There's a hole and two places to put your feet, then a spicket and two buckets. No towels or toilet paper. It seems to be some kind of do-it-yourself bidet. Forgive the indelicacy, but are you supposed to just splash water up at yourself? Won't your legs then be dripping in water? I haven't noticed any women with wet pants, so I must be missing something. Luckily, at my hotel, I have a western toilet, but with a hose and buckets, just in case.

On the flight from Delhi to Amsterdam, I saw the sunrise over the Himalayas. That was cool. The whole earth was a broad plain, but then one long huge line of piranha teeth jutted up north of Delhi. Felt like I was watching Planet Earth. Sat by a man from Kashmir. Thought that was cool.

In Chennai, I was struck by how it seems less depressed than the other cities I've been to--there seems to be fewer people trying to sell things on the streets or vagrant on the streets, and more people who seem to have someplace to go. That's good. The women are like bright flowers here. Such colors! And they whiz past you on motor bikes, so you just see a blur of fuschia and turquoise scarves fluttering by.

We went to the Compassion office and met people and made our plans. Going out today to Chennai to interview. Tomorrow, I'll meet Sarath, the boy we sponsor. And in the night, we'll take an overnight train to Nagercoil.

Hmm...what else to tell you...I'm already a bit sick of Indian food. How sad! But I just can't do spicy vegetables for breakfast. Luckily, the hotel had some plain oatmeal. And last night for dinner I ordered a club sandwich for room service, just ate the bread and fell fast asleep at 7 pm.

Love you all! Hope to take some pictures today.

A Day in Port-au-Prince

Here's a post I wrote for Compassion's blog today.

A Couple Photos

I had a hard time getting photos to upload to blogger, so I added them to Facebook. I think you can just click on the title of this link, and it will take you to the photos. They're on their side, but I'm too tired and befuzzled to figure out why. (It's 3 am and I can't sleep.) This might be how I add photos while I'm gone. Ciao!

In Amsterdam

Dag! 

I got into Amsterdam this morning...yesterday morning...some morning. I had a two-hour nap at my hotel room then went into town. Had lunch--ham and kaas pannekoeken--with Heidi and Naomi. It was so fun to catch up and hear how we all have such different lives now. Then I had dinner with Chuck and Dave (photographer, videographer). Now I'm skyping with Mike--I can talk to him and see him over the internet for free! It's like the Jetsons! Now to bed for Delhi in the morning. 

On My Way

Hi Guys! I'm on my way to India. I'll try to udpate as I can, depending on the connectivity. Here's my itinerary!

Chennai
The Residency Towers www.theresidency.com
12th to 14th & 22nd & 23rd

Nagercoil
Hotel Vijayatha
15th & 16th January 2009

Trivandrum
The South Park www.thesouthpark.com
16th to 20th January 2009

Bangalore
The Richmond Hotel www.theresidency.com
20th to 21st January 2009

I'm a Big Girl Now

MIKE AND I PUT AN OFFER AN A HOME!

I'm slightly terrified, and I want to run away so I can still live my carefree life. (I am running away to India for two weeks, so I guess that helps.)

We made a very low-ball offer ($28,000 below listing), so they might just laugh in our faces. But we'll see.

It's not one of the homes we linked to in my previous post about homes, as the price was too high for us to consider (hence the low-balling). It's in our favorite neighborhood, 4 minutes to Garden of the Gods.

They have to tell us if they've accepted/rejected/countered our offer by 9 on Friday--right when I'll be waiting at DIA to get on a plane for the other side of the world. So I suppose we'll all just have to wait in patient expectation.

Mikey Update

I just realized, I didn't necessarily give you an update on Mikey. Two weeks ago or so, he got a really great long-term freelance gig.

He's now the writer/editor for Window International Network, a ministry that helps people know how to pray for the nations in the 10/40 window. (The 10/40 Window is located from 10 degrees to 40 degrees north of the equator, which includes Africa, the Middle East and Central Asia, where 90% of the world's poorest live, where much persecution of Christians happens, and where many have never heard the gospel. Find more about it here.)

He'll be writing their magazine each month, prayer alerts, prayer calendars, and news releases. (I think, correct me if I'm wrong, honey.) He'll still have time to work on other freelance editing projects too, besides having some guaranteed monthly income.

So this is a big answer to prayer and so encouraging for Mike. Hooray Mikey!

Tunak Tun, Here I Come!

I'm leaving Friday for India, and I'm getting really excited! I've collected roughly 314 salwar kameez so I have plenty to wear. The pants are hilarious--they frankly look like Hammer Pants, or like I should be on a commercial for a liquid diet that helped me lose 330 pounds.

Today I found out I'm going to Nagercoil, which is on the southernmost tip of India. It's where there are leopards and tigers and elephants, oh my! Here's a pic near the area. Crazy! I'm also going to Trivandrum on the southern coast. Double crazy! Then I'll also be in Chennai and Bangalore.

There's no better way to celebrate my imminent departure than with one of the best internet sensations ever, Daler Mehndi. I have to give credit to Jon for Daler. Although Jon kicks dogs, he did introduce us many years ago, so he's allright by me. If you want to be my friend at all, you have to watch this video and learn the dance and love it.

Hoot Hoot!

Several bomb plots planned against the place by my sister and I in high school, notwithstanding, tonight I went to Hooters.

A friend of mine has just entered her last year in the esteemed decade of the twenties. Therefore, a list was created of all the outrageous activities she must participate in before entering the respectable and responsibility-filled years of the thirties. Number one on the list was visiting Hooters.

So, I decided to use this intrepid appropriation of this men's realm as scientific social and behavioral research.

First of all: Are the wings that good? Much like the dubious claim that Playboy is subscribed to for the articles, the claim has been made that some go to Hooters for the wings. I ordered the "Daytona" wings. I suppose "Daytona" is intended to conjure images of spring break and cars, both topics I assume appeal to this clientele. Our next task was to choose if we wanted the wings breaded or "naked." At this point, I tried, out of sober respect for the server, not to burst out laughing, but one of my co-diners burst out, "NAKED?!", which broke the sobriety of the situation.

The wings were not bad. I found if you mixed the Daytona sauce with spicy sauce with ranch, I liked them. Though hardly a worthy excuse for patronizing the establishment, in my puritanical estimation.

Entering as patrons was quite awkward. A snowy night that kept many home, three church girls bundling in together were somewhat conspicuous. We wondered if we looked a. like lesbians, or b. just really desperate to pick up some men.

We pondered in the parking lot, "What if we see someone we work with in here?" As we entered in our paranoia, we all thought we did in fact see a coworker at one of the tables. He was sitting directly in my line of sight, and I couldn't help but stare as he covered his face with his hand. I asked the friends to verify, and they both blatantly turned and stared at him while he looked on. Upon his departure, our coworker was redeemed, as it was not in fact him, and we realized that we did in this case look b. just really desperate to pick up some men.

One peculiar behavioral efffect we noticed the fine restaurant had on us was that every statement was suddenly latent, nay pregnant, with entendre. The effect was that we were soon guffawing at cheap jokes like any group of 13-year-old boys. And our conspicuousness was heightened by our constant snapping of pictures for scientific documentation of the experiment.

The rest of the dinner was spent in trying to find some comfortable place to rest our eyes. The drink menu seemed to have a marked paucity of pictures of drinks, looking more like a girlie calendar. I was also too embarassed for the servers to actually look at them, and we found ourselves compensating for our embarassment by being overly polite to our server.

Our server was sweet and woefully young. When we arrived, she wrote her name, Anna, on a napkin for us, and when we left, she circled the check amount with a heart for us. Due, no doubt, to advancing age, I felt quite motherly toward her and wanted to throw a parka and some snowpants over her and lecture about how she's "worth more than that."

As we were quite poor at pretending to be interested in the football on the big screens while eating, we contented ourselves in discussing how hard it is to find a good church, quickly getting our check and retiring to Old Chicago for some good old fashioned clothed servers and a big cookie.

January 1st, 2009

We started the new year doing our favorite thing, enjoying Colorado. We hiked near Divide to Horsethief Falls, which Mike is standing on.