Taking site down soon October 8, 2012

Hello to anyone still subscribed to me –

Obviously blogging is not a high priority for me right now. I’m busier, and I don’t feel the push to process things like I did when I blogged regularly. I’ve made the decision to take my blog down because I’m monitoring my online presence for professional reasons, and at some point I’d like to have a personal blog that I can share with family and friends. I have tried to be consistently anonymous on here, but anonymity is never guaranteed on the internet and it is not worth the risk of exposure of the very private thoughts I’ve shared on here.

To follow up a bit, my crazy migraines went away after I left the moldy apartment and are now very well controlled without any prescription meds or crazy diet restrictions. The apartment complex wouldn’t give us our security deposit or reimburse us, so we filed a small claims suit and they settled for our out-of-pocket costs plus lawyer’s fees. We both took an extra year in school as a result of my illness, but we’re doing very well and are happy with where we are in life. We’ve spent a lot of time figuring out our values and financial goals, and trying to make sure our actions are supporting those things. We also think that we can go home to Jersey for Diwali this year — yay! 

Another reason I’m taking the blog down is that I’m very connected with the people I used to communicate with through the blog ring. If you’d like to keep up with me, just shoot me an email (alittleofthattoo@gmail.com) and we’ll figure it out! I appreciate everyone who’s been on my blog journey with me, and I really do want to stay in touch with others who have found my stories and reflections to be helpful.

I’ll probably be shutting things down in a few weeks to a month. I plan to save my posts offline, but I will do my best to erase everything from the web. Thanks again!

Still newlyweds April 29, 2012

Last month, I visited friends who got married a few months after we did. They have a baby and a beautiful house that is fully settled-in and tastefully decorated. And what do we have? Grumpy guinea pigs and the 7th place we’ve lived in 5 years, an apartment where even command strips ruin the walls.

Another friend is leaving for his externship. He and his wife had been married for a year or two when they came. They bought a house (which they also settled in and tastefully decorated), had a kid, and now he’s defended his dissertation and is all set for a great externship. And what do we have? I still haven’t proposed my dissertation, A is hoping to collect data for the first of three phases for his dissertation, and I have to reapply for an externship (but there’s no guarantee I’ll get one this time around). 

But still…our life is good. Like, really good. We have a very reliable car, we live within walking distance of campus (we really missed that!), we adore our grumpy guinea pigs, we always have plenty of food in the kitchen and splurge on eating out once or twice a week…and we love each other. So much.

Last night was a date night. We were originally going to go to a city about an hour away, do some walking/touristing, and have a nice dinner at an amazing hipster pizza place. The weather was yucky, so we decided to stick around home. We wanted to just stay in all day, but reluctantly went to a few obligations. Then, when I thought we were settled in for the night, A wanted fake chicken nuggets with fries and milkshakes for dinner. We compromised on root beer floats, because milkshakes are too hard to make at home and fast food fries are never as good by the time you get them home.

So it was out to Walmart for Ore-Ida zesty seasoned fries, glass bottle root beer, and vanilla ice cream. I even popped some glasses in the freezer so they’d be frosty (A was duly impressed). And we just relaxed on the couch together and watched random TV all night. We caught up on a few episodes of House, then I channel-surfed for a minute and found an Inspector Lewis episode on PBS. A fell asleep before the end, so I let him sleep on my lap for a bit before helping him to bed, then filled him in on the plot as I was joining him in bed. Not exactly thrilling stuff, but somehow precious to me. 

Yes, my home is small, difficult to personalize, and thus seemingly in constant chaos. Yes, we use an exercise ball as furniture (but ottomans cost like $100 and then you have to DO something with them when you move!). Yes, our pets are small and grumpy. Yes, ALL of our travel is limited to attending conferences or visiting relatives. But yes, we’re still newlyweds who take so much joy in simply being together, sharing each other’s presence. This is the place we are in our lives right now. It’s not glamorous, and I can find lots of people to envy. But really, this little life with so many big dreams is enough for me.

Welcome to India — can I go home now? March 20, 2012

We started our trek by driving several hours and eating dinner with a cousin Kbhai who lives in Chicago (whose 9 year old son asked me if I was “full American” and was very worried that I would not like India because of the cow poop). Kbhai warned me not to take off my bangle, a wedding gift from Ba (A’s grandmother), in security. He said to just pretend it doesn’t come off (it has a screw that is somewhat hidden in the elaborate scrollwork; we later learned that it has an antique style).

Our flight itinerary was 14 hours from Chicago to Abu Dhabi, 3 hours from Abu Dhabi to Mumbai, and then another hour from Mumbai to Ahmedabad. I had to be patted down at every single stop. I felt quite violated during my search in Chicago, out in the middle of everything. I was most angry that I had automatically said “thank you” as my violator waved me along. In Abu Dhabi, I set off the metal detector again and was asked to remove my bangle. I shoved it against my hand, saying that it doesn’t come off, and was waved toward the only uniformed woman in sight to be patted down again. This time I got the privacy of a curtain, and the woman had a much more gentle demeanor. It made a big difference in an always-unpleasant experience.

As we walked through the Mumbai airport, I was struck by the number of employees standing around doing nothing. A and I snickered as we passed group after group of employees staring out the window at the planes. Mmasa and Dbhai met us at the international airport to drive us to the domestic airport. Mmasa had come to our wedding, so his face was familiar though I had not spoken to him much. I was meeting Dbhai for the first time, but A had spoken of him so often and so fondly that he felt familiar. We drove through Mumbai at 3am; the city was subdued, but far from dead. I thought of it as a soft opening to the crazy traffic and crowds.

I was nervous about our domestic flight. Another cousin had booked it for us, and he mistakenly used my maiden name. His sister didn’t change her name at marriage, so perhaps he thought that surely all Western women would keep their names? He even mispelled it on the ticket for our return flight. We noticed this the day before we left and called the Daddy in a panic. He said not to worry, just to take documents and pictures to establish my identity. We carried my birth certificate, SS card, and marriage license, along with what pictures I could grab from our wedding (none of which have both us face-forward, because our photographer was better at catching things than people). Used to US standards of security, we had both carried knots of anxiety during our long international flights. We wanted plenty of time to fight with security and, if necessary, buy a second ticket.

Mmasa left after he dropped us off, but Dbhai stayed to talk. A and Dbhai walked off to get a sandwich, and I got out a package that Kbhai sent for Dbhai. As I rearranged the luggage, I admired my luggage tag. Sara Maiden, in my mother’s handwriting. She wrote that for my eighth grade trip to Washington, DC. The suitcase was my grandmother’s before that. Even though the name isn’t technically right anymore, I love this tag, one of the few simple, normal touches of my mother I have left in my everyday life. Who knows, maybe it will help me get through security. I started covering up as I saw mosquitos out, until I finally suggested we go inside. Dbhai then stood talking to us just outside the front doors of the airport. My nerves were raw from anxiety about the domestic ticket and travel exhaustion, and I blurted out that I couldn’t just keep standing there where everyone was honking in the drop-off lane. A and Dbhai both looked surprised, as if they weren’t aware of any noise at all. Dbhai finally made us understand that he could not accompany us inside the airport at all; guess security is different here.

Indeed, we had to show the print-out of our flight information and our passports just to enter the airport. Luckily, they only asked for one passport, and A gave them his. One barrier down. We checked in uneventfully, then headed for security nervously. We keep our travel documents in A’s bag because it has a more convenient zipper, but we switched bags so that I would have all my extra documents handy if needed. All the airports in India had separate lines for men and women, so he would not be handy if I needed him. Passport and boarding pass in hand, I sent my bags through and stepped through the metal detector. I showed how tight the bangle was, then was waved into a small cubicle for being pat down. Not as private as Abu Dhabi, but still better than Chicago. I tried not to hold my breath as she looked at my boarding pass. Then she opened the cover of my passport; on American passports, you have to turn the page to see the picture and information, but she just glanced at the inside cover and waved me along.

A looked at me expectantly from the other side of the men’s security line, and I waited until we were out of earshot to say that everything was ok. The airport was small and our gate was less than 100 yards away. We collapsed into chairs, and only then did I open my passport and realize it wasn’t even mine. A and I had accidentally switched passports to go through security, and neither of our security personnel had noticed. Gee, I feel safe now. A claimed that most of the security personnel can’t read well anyway. Dbhai later agreed that literacy is likely about 50% among them.

I still worry slightly that they will check my passport at boarding, but A tries to reassure me. We have a few hours left and explore the airport. My exhaustion is setting in more, and my nerves are getting raw. As we sit down by the gate and wonder why our plane isn’t there yet, I start to unload on A. All the what-ifs, the fears, the anxiety starts coming out, and I’m just barely holding myself together. A well-dressed woman with an expensive purse and shoes sits across from us and asks me if it’s my first time in India. Her accent is American, and she tells of growing up in NJ but moving to Mumbai for love. She is clearly not thrilled to be going to Ahmedabad for a family obligation, but says she loves Mumbai and does her best to reassure me. It’s enough to hold me over, hold my emotions in.

The boarding announcement is made in English and in two more languages. We get in line, but are told that it is not yet our turn to board when we hand in our tickets. My stomach churns again, A tries to argue and is told in an annoyed voice that it was announced three times and we must stand to the side. We are both completely confused; neither of us heard anything about certain rows boarding on the announcement. The well-dressed woman comes up and is told that it is not her turn to board, either; she responds that she is diabetic and will be boarding now, and the attendant backs down. We are duly impressed.

He calls the next rows, which are actually higher than ours. If he did announce the rows in English last time, our rows were probably included. A shows him our tickets and says our row number, and we’re allowed to board. He later says he didn’t fight it the first time to avoid drawing undue attention to my ticket. I dislike the woman next to me on the plan, but I’m also so, so tired and nervous, so perhaps she was fine and I was just irritable.

I’m relieved when we get off the plane. No more flying, for a few days at least. As we went to the luggage claim, A saw a sign for RO water and said it should be safe for me to drink. I refilled my favorite water bottle, leaning awkwardly as the painfully slow dribbles fill it up. Then I looked at it — all sorts of things are floating in it. I showed it to A, and he agreed that I should dump it out. And like that, my favorite water bottle can no longer be trusted until I can clean it to my standards in my home, and I am officially reliant on purchased bottled water for the duration of the trip.

A finds his bag, but mine seems like the very last to come out. I almost don’t recognize it, it’s so dirty, and he seems unsure about it also. I almost call out to him to check the luggage tag, and then I see it: The handle is empty. My luggage tag has been lost. The airline (Indigo, in case you wondered) has mistreated our bags so badly that mine is filthy with dust and dirt, and my precious luggage tag is lost.

I lose my shit.

I am so angry and hurt and wanting everyone to know it, I quickly stop trying to hold it in. I am outright sobbing in the middle of baggage claim. I had noticed a small counter for complaints, but I’ve heard enough about Indian customer service to believe it’s not worth the effort. Still, I feel frozen, not knowing what to do. Not willing to leave my luggage tag, with my mother’s precious handwriting — do I even have my name in her handwriting anywhere else? — behind. I occasionally whimpered, “They took my mother!” A is sympathetic but impotent; he repeatedly asks me what I want to do, when what I want is for him to storm the customer service desk, yell and scream at them for their incompetence, and demand my luggage tag be found and returned. I keep looking to the exit, which is guarded by four men with rifles (why use one person when four would do?), but they don’t seem to be taking any notice of one White girl sobbing hysterically. I could be being kidnapped right now, and they wouldn’t care. Finally I tell A that if he leaves, I’ll follow him, but I swear to God I will never fly Indigo again.

We walk outside and don’t see Ma anywhere. I’m still cycling between wanting to complain to someone and wanting to just move on. We approach a window to ask where to complain, but it looks completely closed (it’s around 9:30 in the morning). Ma still isn’t here. I wasn’t thirsty until A told me to fill my bottle with that disgusting water, but now my throat feels raw and scratchy. I’m still not holding back my tears, and I know a terrible headache will come on soon. The sun is blinding. I say to A, “The worst part is that when they find it, they’re just going to throw it in the trash, like it doesn’t matter at all.” “Yes, they will.” I know he’s doing his best, but I feel so, so tired. I didn’t know I could feel this tired, through my whole body.

I mutter under my breath, “I hate this fucking country.” I can only hope he didn’t hear me, but I’m sure he did, and I’m sure he would’ve preferred that I punched him in the gut.

I couldn’t know it then, but this was actually the worst moment of the entire trip. I fidgeted, wishing I could hop a plane and go home. A started going off about his mom not giving him a phone number to reach her at; it was something safer to be mad about than the luggage tag, I think. Finally, we saw her, and he met her with a big hug. I gave a little hug, and asked A to explain what had happened. She tried to be sympathetic, but I don’t know if she really got it. “You should have had it somewhere safe, instead of on your suitcase.” A immediately jumped to my defense, saying it wasn’t fair to say that. After some thought, I understand why I never put the luggage tag somewhere safe. It was one of the few things left that were casual touches of my mother’s life on mine.

In a way, I’m glad my arrival happened like this. Although I’m still heartbroken about the luggage tag, this emotional release seemed to hit my reset button. I was no longer nervous or keyed up; I had let all of that out in the airport. I knew I was fragile and was worried I would have a breakdown at something Ma or someone else did, which would clearly not be a good first impression. Later that day, I decided that after I got home I would make an electronic copy of my mother’s hand-written cookbook. That will be the good that comes out of this. I will protect that precious cookbook from loss, even if I didn’t protect this luggage tag. We later realized that my bag had a large rip in it, and A’s bag had the corner falling apart and a handle barely hanging on. A says we could have claimed the damage if we had booked through American Express, but since a cousin booked the flight in rupees (at a lower price), we really have no recourse. I’m just glad that I resisted my urge to flee the country after it took so much from me on just arriving.

Across the world and back

Two days ago, we got back from India. My head is still spinning, though I was able to sleep most of my jetlag off yesterday. People ask me about it, but it seems too big to pick any one thing to tell. All week, I found myself breaking up the moments into blog titles, like the catchy headlines of my trip. My hope is to slowly get through my very long list of these snapshots, though in all honesty I have not been a good blogger lately and am not hugely optimistic.

Overall, I think I was as well-prepared as I could have been. Ma kept the trip surprisingly organized, though she spent half the time on the phone to do it. Not to say there wasn’t chaos and rescheduling, just less than you’d expect from an Indian family (or at least from MY Indian family). I was extremely careful with everything I put in my body, and I didn’t get sick once (even with a couple mishaps, like when Ma told me the virgin pina colada was safe and then as I was sipping it I realized it must have ice in it). Ma made sure that everyone knew to have non-spicy portions for me, and I found at least one thing I liked at every meal (though I can do without soup or daal of any kind for the next month or so). A and I got to sleep alone each night, although two out of the three houses needed access to the room in early morning. Overall…it was better than I expected. I was very ready to go back at the end of the week, but I’m so glad I went and will genuinely look forward to the next trip.

My elopement ate my homework… February 25, 2012

I was re-organizing my computer files, because I’m looking for something super nerdy: the ultimate demographic scale for religious affiliations. I remember I saw a demographics section once that had a really thorough list of options, and I saved it…but now I don’t know where it is. I wish there was a grad school version of Pinterest.

Anyway, while trying to re-organize so I can find my file (or not lose it next time), I came across some old homework from a class and remembered that I had to email the professor to explain why I missed a deadline: I was busy eloping.

It turned out most of us had forgotten that particular deadline, but I definitely got the class award for most creative excuse.

Getting ready for my India trip… February 19, 2012

I’m REALLY looking forward to my trip to India!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, what? The one in less than a month? Why would you think I mean that one?!? Silly reader.

But really, I’m still feeling pretty ambivalent about this trip. I’m not a great traveler or adapter. My “firsts” and “big events” within this family have not typically been pleasant.

I was raised to be a sturdy farm girl, though, and I can buckle down and get done what needs to be done. I need to meet A’s extended family in India, particularly 90-some-year-old Ba (gotta love Indian record keeping — she’s not sure how old she is). I also need to learn to travel to India. That’s just how it is, and so I’m going to do it. But I’m not going to pretend to look forward to it, at least not here, because this blog is my Secret Garden (rereading that book, and surprised by the blatant racism, though I loved the bit about “it’s not our way” being the end.of.discussion with Indians).

What I am looking forward to is around trip 3 or 4. Sometime when I know what is going to happen, and thus am better able to prepare for it (although A and Ma are doing their best). I know that A loves going to see his family in India, just as he loves going to see his family in NJ. I love [reasonable length] regular trips to NJ, too — it’s just the initial stuff and the big events that suck my life force — so I have reason to believe I’ll love regular trips to India, too.

I also hate being the center of attention. I particularly hate being on the spot when I don’t know the “right answers.” When we were first engaged (i.e., I was first being introduced to the family), a certain uncle put me on the spot with an awkward question, and I couldn’t quite make out the words with the combination of his accent and the complete lack of logic/context. It was clear I was supposed to answer more than yes or no, but after asking him to repeat himself three times I still didn’t understand. I forget how it was resolved, but it turned out that he was asking me if I knew what A’s sister would be to me (incidentally, I know I’m bhabi to her but still have no idea what she is to me, I think I’ve psychologically blocked it thanks to Uncle dear). After one of my worst fears came to life (I was on the spot, I couldn’t understand him, and I didn’t have the right answer), my nervousness about meeting new people and going to new situations increased. Wedding experiences that were chaotic and mostly meaningless didn’t help much.

OK, so I can also talk myself out of it. Uncle is actually quite nice, and his son had bought doughnuts in case I couldn’t eat the food at that event. I’m probably the only one who still thinks about that moment (most people probably wouldn’t remember it even if I asked), and A told me that it was really an odd question from Uncle and that no one would have expected me to know or been surprised that I was a little confused. And our wedding was soul sucking, but it was beautiful and nothing catastrophic happened, and we’re as married as we can get (I feel like that phrase needs a “, bitches!” at the end of it). So really, nothing THAT bad has happened when I have been in these situations.

But I still think of this trip as a necessity. We’ll be rushing from place to place, and Ma warned me that it wouldn’t be a restful trip (in a “I want to prepare you because I know it’s going to be hard for you, and preparing you is one of the best ways I know to help” kind of way). We’ll condense some of the meeting and visiting by having a family party (or two or three, I’m told), which will be its own kind of draining. I don’t plan to be very adventurous with food, especially because a few days being sick wipes out half our all-too-short spring break trip. And I don’t expect to do any real sightseeing, though we’re hoping to get shopping done.

I am excited, in a way. And I’m grateful that we can go, financially and time-wise (even if it’s just for a week). But I guess I’m more looking forward to the growth that will come out of this trip — that at the end of our week-long visit, these people will no longer be names, they will be faces and bodies and laughter and homes and hearts; that I will know what it is like to travel by plane for more than 24 hours at a time; that I will not just recite so many things I have been told about India, I will actually say them from my own experience and with my own perspective. I will eat a banana and say for myself if it is actually half the size but twice the flavor. When we discuss the coexistence of religions and integration of religion into aspects of everyday life, I will understand A’s points in a way I cannot now, and I will know if I actually agree with him.

On this trip, I also expect to see a side of my husband that spends most of the years dormant. That awakening makes me nervous, not in a Not Without My Daughter way, but because I have seen glimpses of these cultural roots, and I know that they are deep and strong, but I also know that he keeps a wall between his everyday American life and his Indian life. I know that he guards his Indian heart carefully, from a childhood of being questioned by Americans, and I know that he is most easily hurt in that area where I am least familiar or qualified to explore.

Perhaps most of all, I am nervous because during this trip I take both center stage and backseat, and that is a difficult and exhausting line to walk. My culture and comfort zone needs to be flexible for us to have the kind of trip I want to have, and I want to be open to all the people I will meet, and to the new ways I will see my beloved. If I could simply hang back and observe it all, I would be ok, but I expect to be constantly pushed to interact, to say how I like this and that, and to show that I am a proper wife for their little boy. I understand all this, and am ok with it…but the logical result is that I’m not excited about this trip.

I’m excited about the trips when I will be another wife coming to visit, and I will know who my husband will be during the trip, and can anticipate what actually will happen and what supports I will need to get through it all. I may never be able to hang back and observe, but I will not be making a first impression on an important person each and every moment of the visit. For now…I believe that my husband and MIL will do their utmost to support me, and I believe I’ll get back in one piece! Everything else is, as my dad would say, just gravy.

Living simply: Inspired by Padmini February 6, 2012

I was originally going to leave a VERY long comment on a post on the blog Padmini’s Vorga, but then I decided to make it a post of my own. (And then I must work on my stats project, really.) Check out her original post, “Trying to Live with Less Luxury,” here. Padmini talks about choosing to live in a way that reflects how most of the world lives, despite the availability of Western amenities. What initially grabbed me was “Hey, I’m living without a dishwasher or microwave, too!” As I read more, I started thinking about what kinds of decisions A and I make to live simply. Our motivation and lifestyle are different from Padmini, but I’m glad for the opportunity to read about her life, and to reflect on mine!

We recently had to change apartments, due to the mold and headaches, even though we are leaving the area in 6-8 months. Our new apartment has no dishwasher (or option to use your own), and does not come with a microwave (but our last two apartments did). We had a week without a microwave when ours died last Thanksgiving, and we’re going to see how long we can make it without one in this apartment! Partly, we don’t want to wastefully buy things for short-term use (bad for money and the environment), but mostly we have no counter space as it is. We do have a toaster oven, which helps a lot.

We don’t value cable very much (although we do love us some trashy tv), but have done Netflix/Hulu Plus and rabbit ears (only got one channel). Now a cable package is included in our rent, so we canceled Netflix/Hulu Plus. If we miss Netflix, we’ll go back to it, but we’re trying to be very aware of where we can cut excess in our lives.

We bought a new car when our old car started having expensive maintenance issues, but we did a lot of research and bought a simple, small car that we’re very happy with. We share the car and choose living spaces that are near public transit and/or our school/work, so we can walk or commute easily.

For us, I think living simply is more about being intentional about what we buy, reducing waste, and increasing our value of what we have by not buying needless items. Frequent moves and sharing small apartments can be very motivating! For example, I’m careful about what books I buy now, because I know that I have to store and move them. (OK, I cheat with the Kindle, but I do library books more, too.) Another example is that, when we needed chairs for our kitchen table, we decided to buy really nice outdoor folding chairs (that we will keep and use in another capacity for years) rather than really cheap kitchen chairs (that we would have given or thrown away in a year or two). They look a little funny now, but it’s a better long-term purchase.

We have a really nice TV, and we put a lot of thought and discussion into that decision (we always watched things on our laptop and wanted to spend more down time together, so we thought a nice TV would help with that, plus we wanted to buy a TV that we would love for at least 5-10 years), and we value it so much because it’s the one really luxurious item we have right now.  We still make mistakes and impulse-buy junk, but we’re also trying to be better about getting rid of those mistakes (again, moves are a GREAT time for doing that!).

Many of our decisions right now are short-term. They are based on having a grad school income, living in tiny spaces, and moving frequently with inter-state moves looming ahead. We eventually expect to make one-to-two professional salaries, live in a larger space (although we may choose a smaller space as part of our lifestyle, and because I don’t want a house so big I can’t afford to keep it as cool as I want in the summer!), and be settled in a home for the foreseeable future. We both worry that we may lose some of these “living simply” values then, but we also both want a lot nicer things (like furniture that is not just a very-worn-out futon, and at least some drawers that are not made of plastic). I think our key for balance will be staying focused on what is really important to us, and investing heavily there. And, when there’s no moves left, there’s always trashy reality tv about hoarders.