Friday, January 30, 2009
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.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
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.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
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.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
The Residency Towers www.theresidency.com
12th to 14th & 22nd & 23rd
15th & 16th January 2009
The South Park www.thesouthpark.com
16th to 20th January 2009
The Richmond Hotel www.theresidency.com
20th to 21st January 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
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.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
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!
Monday, January 5, 2009
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.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
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.
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.