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Major butterflies

Once again we're on the T-minus clock with less than twelve hours til our flight to New Delhi and my insides have metamorphosed into a very large family of butterflies who give no sign of quieting down. We are finally taking the first real steps toward getting Hamid's visa to the States and I'm desperate to know the outcome.
Having never dealt with this kind of thing before we must look at it as something that could go either way - but we're leaning with hope and anticipation toward the positive.
I honestly can't imagine the U.S. Embassy looking at Hamid and our well-prepped paperwork accompanied by a disk of pictures of us goofing around and kissing eachother over the past year, and saying anything other than "Sure, come on in!" but this is politics and red tape and all the regulations that accessorize life in a post-9/11 world.
Like a miniseries, each episode must necessarily end with questions that can only be answered in the next installment - such is the nature of our life - and so the only honest reply to questioning friends and relatives who ask excitedly, "When are you coming?" is, "We'd like to know the answer to that question too..."

Stay tuned to find out.

Happy Ganesh Day!

There are literally thousands of gods and goddesses in the Hindu religion - and while I'm not Hindu I do still appreciate the interesting iconography as well as the stories behind the belief system about the many personalities. It's something akin to the old Greek system of deities. My personal favorite (mainly because he looks cool and has good energy) is Ganesh.

The story goes that Ganesh was born to Shiva and the Hindu Divine Mother Parvati. There was some serious dysfunction in the family though and Shiva in a fit of jealous rage cut off little Ganesh's head. Later Shiva felt bad for having done so and went ahead and atoned for the decapitation by filling the space with an elephant head.
Ganesh is considered to be the bringer of good fortune, removing all obstacles and ensuring success in human endeavors.

Today, all over India, the festival of Ganesh is celebrated. For weeks prior, families have purchased large garishly painted clay statues of Ganesh for the sole purpose of throwing them into various bodies of water in celebration.
Tonight, as we made our way slowly through the horrendously heavy traffic, passing temples and lakes, throngs of people could be seen gathering, statues in hand, banging drums and singing and chanting - ready to toss their own Ganesh into the water.
It was only six months ago the lake near our house was excavated to remove the tons of last year's broken pottery...and here they go again.

From India wishing everyone, Hindu or otherwise, a happy Ganesh day.

One point for our side

I've gotten into the very bad habit of worrying, not something I used to do ever, but have lapsed into lately with all of the uncertainties that crop up for us as we negotiate with various government offices amid piles of paperwork in a bid to remain together, no matter what.
For now though, I have one less thing to worry about - H is not on his way out of the country, at least not in the immediate future. Instead, more papers and process have been requested of him regarding his Indian visa - a response to our last-ditch effort at solving the problem from here, rather than Iran.

In the meantime I'm booking plane tickets and hotel rooms as we plan to visit the U.S. Embassy in New Delhi next week to begin processing our application to enter the States. In the event H must return to Iran for a short time, at least those papers will be where they need to be. One less thing to worry about, and an easy excuse to go be tourists at the Taj Mahal.

Oh yeah, one more thing...

Negatory

We are having a crisis. Not an emergency, just yet...but definitely there are some very-bad-things going on in the periphery of what we are trying to accomplish here.
There is some question as to the state of Hamid's visa to India, as seems to be the case with many visas for Iranian students who have money and have learned in India to pay bribes as a matter of course.
We will find out tomorrow if he has to leave the country.

I've prepared all of our papers for the States, our pictures, copies of everything (and then some) so that if we get the news he's on his way out we can at least file the papers. Because we were married in India we must apply together to enter the United States from India, New Delhi to be exact.
The other option is for me to go to America on my own and file the papers from there - but as far as I'm concerned that is not an option.

I can't go with him to Iran because my Persian passport and identity card are not ready. Two more months they say.

Everything seems so tenuous all of a sudden. In Iran when they told me to leave after two and a half months, and in the middle of an already-extended-for-the-second-time visa, at least we knew we could go back to India together.

When things like this come up for us - and this isn't the first, won't be the last I'm sure - I start to tick off in my head the options, the different countries we could go to. It's kind of like being on the run, only we're not trying to be.
I find it ironic that we have to work so hard to stay here. But we need to be here if I ever want to go back to the U.S. again, and I do. But I won't go alone.

Bad Math

Bad Math is basically anything that just doesn't make sense and to the left a little bit. It's in everything from politics to people.
Political math is interesting and tends to be bad all the way around - the way they talk. The way they just do whatever the heck it is they want. The way they breed entitlement.
If they're showing some kind of sensibility by agreeing to STOP KILLING PEOPLE one day they're sneaking in later that night and killing people anyway.

Yet, some of them do inspire me - I see sometimes a glimmer of a possible viable future in the words or actions of one of our world leaders. I allow myself to imagine that he will cross that line in the other direction. Can there really be so terrible a consequence for such a thing?

Some have the absolute ability to change the world - but they are few and far between (and I imagine they are very tired) and I'm tired of listening to the others parade around in their Armani suits and manicures. These are the people we are taxed for - these are the governments we fund.

I want to know why.

Travel blog? What travel blog?

Sometimes I feel insurmountably guilty for never, ever writing much of anything in the way of 'travel info' about India.
This is my pathetic attempt at rectifying that:

Our favorite destination in India is Goa - Calengute/Baga
in particular. But the hotel we call months in advance to book the one picture perfect, full-frontal balcony facing the sea, three walls of windows, cathedral ceilinged room they have, is just too precious to share with anyone. And I don't want to risk having any trouble acquiring this room, where the wind blows through from the sea like a breath from heaven, when I want it.
Selfish? That's fine with me.
I tried to talk H into moving there with me and had grandiose ideas of paying tons of money to install internet in the little rental but to no avail. The humidity in Goa would murder our laptops and thus ruin any chance we'd have of funding our long-term holiday lifestyle.

Other great beaches in Goa:
I've spent time in the airport city - Vasco, as well as Anjuna, Arambol, and Calengute/Baga and in each and every town I found a place to stay that was affordable (max $15 per night), either directly on the beach or just above it on a seaside cliff, or set back just enough to offer a panoramic view of everything. Except for in Vasco which is a factory town and not especially lovely, although the people are incredibly nice there.
Personally, I think the best way to locate where you want to stay is just get to where you want to go and walk around until you find something.

In Anjuna, if you go to the very very end of town, toward the beach, there is a little row of houses along the cliffs, to the left. There I rented a two bedroom house for Rs 350 per night (about seven dollars U.S.). Plus Anjuna boasts the terrifcally massive Anjuna Market - weekends and Wednesday nights, they are easy to find, impossible to resist, and can take literally an entire day (and an ample sum of money for all the stuff there is to buy) to wander through. The markets are full of all kinds of fabulous shiny things to satisfy your penchant for souvenirs, plus host sellers from all over the world who come to Goa to hawk their amazing designs, many of which are geared toward the rave set.

Speaking of: I won't try to direct you to the parties in Goa as they're changing every season, move from place to place depending on the police presence and legality of their licesnses, etc. Just know that like everything you might want from Goa, the legendary raves are easy to find.

In Arambol if you walk down to the beach and follow the cliffs around the bend you'll find an entire cliffside community with another more private beach just beyond. If you can navigate the rocky pathway along the cliff you'll find plenty of guest houses built up and down the cliff - some require quite a hike up to reach them but the views are spectacular. Closer to the sea there are darling little restraunts and more guest houses - one of which I chose for Rs 350 per night. It was a single room, double bed, with attached bath and shower, windows facing the sea and a little balcony outside. The best part was, this room was literally in the cliff, but on the lower side, so there was no one above me, no one below except the earth, sky, and sea (unless you count the guest house to the left and down a bit that was inhabited by nudists at the time).

All of the beaches in Goa offer beachfront or cliffside dining - and the food is pretty extraordinary everywhere.
If you're into eating endangered exotic animals you can order shark in many different flavors.
But, on Calengute, there are kilometers and kilometers of little beachfront shacks piled up next to eachother, set right into the sand - amazingly equipped with full kitchens, bars, huge stereo systems, and the random fire dancing show. Walking this beach at night is some kind of wonderful.
There is nothing more relaxing that sauntering up to one of them at sunset knowing that someone will come and bring a set of very comfy chairs, a table complete with lighted candle lamp, and some menus. That the sun will set directly in front of you and the stars will appear, meeting the sea on the horizon.
Sit down, order a drink and some food, sit as close to the sea as you want with your feet in the sand...the service is coming to you.
Planet Goa is a first choice and has a delectable outdoor seafood barbeque, selections served with a massive portion of vegetables and other yummy goodies.

During the day these places are packed with people slouching in rented beach lounges under umbrellas (max Rs 50 for the day, depending on the place) but the service is just as quick and the food and drink just as delicious.

Getting there is always easy, being there - even easier:
I'd been in India three months, living in Auroville on the east coast, when I decided to take a bus to Goa on the west. It was easy to find a place to buy a ticket because all of the bus companies are in one very very very long row on a street I can't remember the name of in Pondicherry. I just told my driver that I wanted to go buy a bus ticket and he dropped me off.
The best company to hire a seat with is Paolo Travels. Their buses were almost always on time, they provide bottled water, the atmosphere is not too hot not too cold (A/C can be your enemy, even in India, believe it or not), and they never splashed us into a ravine or nasty slough which all too often happens here.

This crashing into things and falling off of bridges is the same reason I do not travel by train in India and so have no advice to give in that direction.
I did once try to take a train from Hyderabad to Bangalore but couldn't believe the amount of process just to get a ticket, and there wasn't anything for almost two weeks in any direction. Instead I called up Air Deccan, plunked down my credit card and flew out five hours later.
When you're feeling hemmed in and need a quick and hassle free escape from somewhere in India to somewhere else in India - take a flight, they're cheap, frequent and now we've got Kingfisher Airlines with their nifty little red airplanes. Kingfisher is the best - once they gave H one of the toy Kingfisher airplanes they give to little kids. Plus, the food on their flights is honestly some of the most outstanding Indian food I've ever had (Nothing to do with my fascination for food on trays).

There are sleeper buses to and from every locae in India. You can travel by government bus or private bus. Only diehard travellers who are on a half-dollar-for-travel budget and want to be awake and uncomfortable for thirteen+ hours will travel by government bus.
Private busses can be hit or miss as well, but even on the yuckiest one I've ever taken I still slept almost the entire time.
Tickets are incredibly cheap - from Bangalore to Goa it's between Rs 500 and Rs 750 for a sleeper.
The thing to remember is that there are two little spaces in a sleeper compartment. I would imagine they could be very cramped and unfriendly places given the wrong circumstances.
When I travelled alone I always bought both sections of the compartment - it was like twenty dollars max and well worth the investment. Fortunately now I travel with my darling...no complaints in that case.

Anyway, the bus was no big deal. But I made the mistake of stopping first in Bangalore, not really having a plan, and realized as soon as I stepped out of the station and into the air the city breathes that I should have gone straight to the coast.
So I spent a few hours trying to find a ticket to Goa that would get me there now and lacking that, totally hot and sweaty and unhappy, I took an auto to the airport, bought a ticket, washed my hair in the bathroom, and got on a plane.
Less than two hours later I was outside. The air in Goa is like medicine.

I travelled around the state's beaches alone for two weeks - it's a tiny squidge of a thing on India's map so is easy to cover a good portion of on a short stay. I also spent way too much money but haven't made that mistake again (Goa can be an extremely comfortable and equally inexpensive holiday).

In truth, there are some really great places here in India, maybe even in Bangalore...
I guess it's about time to answer the questions about travel in India that people type into Google only to be brought to my site, which has done nothing to help them feel cheery about their upcoming trip (and those plane tickets can be expensive).

Or maybe, Serenity Joon

Pokerface

So all of the suit and tied arguing was for the positive (although I gave out a little when the speaker from Israel said "We are fighting for peace." That makes perfect sense, no?)
And now there's a cease fire between Lebanon/Hezbollah and Israel.
People can stop dying. We hope.
The thing is, there's also an argument started about just who the "winner" is, and looking like a tiebreaker is going to be necessary.
What's worse: the argument isn't between Lebanon/Hezbollah and Israel. It's between the United States of America and Iran - at least that's how it looks on our cable news channel.

I wonder if that is a realistic view of what's going on.
I wonder if there isn't any politician who won't come out and just say, "You know, I have respect for the sanctity of human life and I don't want war. I won't fight, not like this..." and mean it.

I realize that politics is infinitely more complicated than just being nice to eachother.
But still...

Ahmadinejad Blogs

I've just received a link to a new blog authored by Iran's President, Ahmadinejad. The first post, titled 'autobiography' is online now and is available in four languages, including English.
You will find the blog here, just click the American flag at the top right to read in English. Posts are abbreviated, click the 'continue' link at the bottom to read the entire thing.

I think it's really wonderful that he's embracing the trends and technology available for the dissemination of information and opinion and look forward to reading further.

It's fun to imagine him in his little apartment in downtown Tehran, sitting down with a cup of tea, to blog.

Spoiled

I've said it many times, I can make a life and a home and have fun anywhere, literally anywhere on this planet, as long as I'm with my darling. I don't care where it is or what the conditions are...I'll manage, because the truth is, if someone popped in and said, "I can save you from the things that are making you crazy (ie - India in general is really at odds with me these days), I can set you up in a brilliant house, with a brilliant life, and all the silly metropolitan things you long for. But you've to go alone."
I'd stay put.
The fact is, nothing would be brilliant without Hamid, and that's the end of that story.

However...
There are some days, every once in a while, that leave me in a fit of panic, which is usually followed by tears because sometimes I absolutely, positively hate being here.
The reasons are countless and are often arbitrary, it just depends on the day and the combination of challenges presented to me on any given morning. And it depends on me, of course.
We all have bad days - at least I think so. Though I'm not good at admitting to them publicly, I've just been smacked by the universe, which is what usually happens when I've spent a good five or six hours in a tantrum over things I cannot control and ironically have very purposefully chosen to participate in.
Today was one of those days. Nothing going right, too much rain to dry the mountain of laundry I'd coaxed through our washing machine, furniture biting me left and right (I've started drinking lemon juice to manage the bruises on my ankles which show up slow and green under my very pale skin), the hope of easy hot water in the shower dashed by the thick screen of purple-grey clouds hanging overhead...and whatever else I could find to be annoyed with - which was plenty.

After whining to my darling endlessly through the list (he as always sat sweetly by, cooing at me at the appropriate times and thoroughly loving me in spite of my raving lunacy) I wiped my tears, shifted the piles of still very damp laundry to under the ceiling fan and went out to the balcony, now dark with a rain-spent evening, for a breath of air.

Below me, in the yard of the house next to ours, the woman who had recently moved her family in was washing a pile of dishes larger than herself. They don't have a kitchen or a sink inside their house, and so she must wash her dirty pots and pans and such outside in the tap.
Tomorrow morning I will hear her wake up at six as she does every day to wash her family's clothing, by hand, in the same tap, smacking the clothes against a cement block set up for this purpose. Even if it is dark and cold she will emerge to this ritual - managing her responsibilities and her life without a single visible reproach.

She almost always appears well dressed in her sari, all flowing purple satin and polyester chiffon, hair neatly negotiated - whether there are dishes and laundry on her horizon or not.
I find it incredible and amazing, especially considering that their bathroom is all cold water all the time; it is not connected to their house (which is actually a single-room converted office space).

And her family is considered middle class for India.

There are also the people who live in tarp-tents all over the city, digging ditches around their sleeping families to keep the puddles from incorporating their meager living spaces into the mud - but I can't see them from here.
It was this mother of two, probably quite a few years younger than me, crouched in the rainy muck of her yard, scrubbing away happily at the previous meal's dishes that snapped me out of it - a big dose of reality, courtesy of the universe.

Soulmate

Sometimes I wish there were more words in the English language. Even with the bits and pieces of Persian, French, and Spanish I can throw together there still aren't enough terms to describe how I feel about my husband.
So few and pale are the words that do exist...

Our one year wedding anniversary is approaching - October 5th, and as we speculate on just what we might do to celebrate (probably F Bar for sushi and martinis) I'm trying to figure out where in this city I can find something as a gift that will express my devotion, my dedication, my adoration.
There are no stores that will giftwrap and ribbon my soul, so I'm at a bit of a loss.
It's his anyway...no matter.

Americana

I decided it was time to introduce my darling to a few things American - as many as I can considering our current locae. We found the original Monopoly at one of our favorite bookstores, brought it home and settled in for his first game ever.
He was the car, I was the terrier.
He kicked my a**. Royally.
In the grand tradition of American business I mortgaged half of my properties to stay afloat, traded even more for cash, built as high as I could in the slums, negotiated property ownership on technicalities when I could, survived for a short while on the generous welfare of 'free parking' and ended up trading personal favors to get out of jail.

Papillon

I was reading I'm Just About to Get Skinny...while feeling immensely sorry for myself that I've next to no options when it comes to exercise. There are a gazillion blogs on weight loss - and while I have no intention of turning this into that it does seem feasible to use a blog (which is already solipsistic in it's very nature anyway) to put to writing the things that would otherwise be stuck in my head. (ie. that crop up as a woman suddenly unsatisfied with the outcome of her body image+geographically-enforced laze.)

My brief stint on the running machine in Iran was not enough to stave off this feeling of being rundown mush on my insides and it's months before we get back there...even longer before we live somewhere I can return to my latenight in the rain five mile running habit. Sadly, all of the usual outlets for energy for the sake of being fit are out of reach for me here - unless someone knows of a proper gym somewhere in Bangalore where I can remain unaccosted for longer than five minutes...so, for the time being, I will write.

I'm eyeing the yoga DVD's I had imported from the States to Iran, toted hopefully to India, loathe to break them out and try to stretch myself adequately inside this tiny house. Our furniture is always biting me as it is - reaching out with bruises as I pass by; I can't seem to find a space tolerant of my five feet nine inches groping for length and breadth. There simply is no room for downward dog or warrior.
If I stretch upwards it's not a problem, but a reach to the right or the left, a bend forward, sends me headfirst into the bookshelves or brings on a sharp introduction between knee and office space.

I could, at the suggestion of my darling, attempt my poses from the bed but in order to accomplish a solid footing I'd have to first remove all the fluff I've installed to insure a restful night - and where the heck to put it?

I've no idea what my weight is right now, which is a point worth making. I'm not starting at a literal somewhere with the goal of getting to a literal somewhere else, and although my 28/34 jeans fit there is honestly little joy in wearing them. I feel icky...not fat, but icky. And ultimately the way I feel weighs far more than any BMI or scale could tell me.

So, in the spirit of changing the things I can and however that saying goes - I've reestablished my vegetarianism. I've not had meat or chicken since our arrival in Bangalore, but I have had to eat fish and the occasional dairy product - it seems that vegan is only satisfiably doable for a non-cooking person such as myself when in the first world.
This has helped cut back on the ick factor a bit.

Otherwise I'm insisting that we walk everywhere - but even this is a double-edged sword - balance the benefits of walking with the hazards of what pass for sidewalks here, traffic smog and wild dogs and you've got the idea.

I feel like the guys in film and book who are put to solitary for years and years but struggle through and come out to freedom, strong and lean - taking my cues from Henri Charrière I find it's the old fashioned stuff, the things they forced us to do in Catholic gradeschool gym class: pushups, situps, wall sits etc. that will do the trick.
Ugh.

Yes, it sucks, but I force myself to do it.
Or, at least, I will...today is my first day as Papillon.

Very very red tape

Bangalore's Police Commissioner's Office is a big fat joke. And yes, I mean it, and no, I'm not sorry for being so blunt about it.
I find all of the chest-puffing (and oh, is there alot of it) that goes on in such offices here to be not only a frustrating brick wall of misinformation and complete unaccomodating, disobliging, lack of anything resembling civil service, but also thoroughly boring.
It's quite boring, you know, to go into a government office, ready to get something accomplished only to leave every single time with the same result - a headache.

Why is it that all things in India's civil offices must be carried out in the manner of a three ring circus? Why, why, why?! Is it in their handbook for government employees to be so exasperating?

Guideline 1: Treat all visitors to your office in as condescending a manner as possible and never speak with a tone that might imply you are willing to offer help.

Guideline 2: Do not allow querents, either in person or on the telephone, to finish their sentences.

Guideline 3: Assume that the answer to any and every question you will be asked is "No." Proceed with inquiries accordingly.
When acceptable sums of money are presented, balance your responses toward obtaining said money.
5,000 rupees is a good rule of thumb when it comes to bending the rules, or making up new ones.

Guideline 4: When accepting an inquiry via telephone give a random answer, assure the caller that the information is correct. Later, when caller is present act as if you have no idea where they got their information and send them to another government office, preferably on the other side of the city.

Guideline 5: When giving directions to any government office be sure to advise the querent as to the operating hours of said office.

Guideline 6: Close all offices earlier than the quoted time.

Guideline 7: When copies of documents are required, ask for three. When presented with three copies take an attitude of exhausted patience and ask for two more.

Guideline 8: Remind the querent repeatedly that you are a Government Official and are hence extremely important.

Guideline 9: At the rare occurrence of an impertinent querent simply repeat the mantra "I am very important, this is serious business, I make the decisions here." until querent gives up altogether and leaves.