Shrinking Women

I just ran across an amazing video of a slam poet, Lily Myers.  Check it out:

Shrinking Women

Here's the text:

Across from me at the kitchen table, my mother smiles over red wine that she drinks out of a measuring glass.
She says she doesn't deprive herself,
but I've learned to find nuance in every movement of her fork.
In every crinkle in her brow as she offers me the uneaten pieces on her plate.
I've realized she only eats dinner when I suggest it.
I wonder what she does when I'm not there to do so.

Maybe this is why my house feels bigger each time I return; it's proportional.
As she shrinks the space around her seems increasingly vast.
She wanes while my father waxes. His stomach has grown round with wine, late nights, oysters, poetry. A new girlfriend who was overweight as a teenager, but my dad reports that now she's "crazy about fruit."

It was the same with his parents;
as my grandmother became frail and angular her husband swelled to red round cheeks, rotund stomach
and I wonder if my lineage is one of women shrinking
making space for the entrance of men into their lives
not knowing how to fill it back up once they leave.

I have been taught accommodation.
My brother never thinks before he speaks.
I have been taught to filter.
"How can anyone have a relationship to food?" He asks, laughing, as I eat the black bean soup I chose for its lack of carbs.
I want to tell say: we come from difference, Jonas,
you have been taught to grow out
I have been taught to grow in
you learned from our father how to emit, how to produce, to roll each thought off your tongue with confidence, you used to lose your voice every other week from shouting so much
I learned to absorb
I took lessons from our mother in creating space around myself
I learned to read the knots in her forehead while the guys went out for oysters
and I never meant to replicate her, but
spend enough time sitting across from someone and you pick up their habits

that's why women in my family have been shrinking for decades.
We all learned it from each other, the way each generation taught the next how to knit
weaving silence in between the threads
which I can still feel as I walk through this ever-growing house,
skin itching,
picking up all the habits my mother has unwittingly dropped like bits of crumpled paper from her pocket on her countless trips from bedroom to kitchen to bedroom again,
Nights I hear her creep down to eat plain yogurt in the dark, a fugitive stealing calories to which she does not feel entitled.
Deciding how many bites is too many
How much space she deserves to occupy.

Watching the struggle I either mimic or hate her,
And I don't want to do either anymore
but the burden of this house has followed me across the country
I asked five questions in genetics class today and all of them started with the word "sorry".
I don't know the requirements for the sociology major because I spent the entire meeting deciding whether or not I could have another piece of pizza
a circular obsession I never wanted but

inheritance is accidental
still staring at me with wine-stained lips from across the kitchen table.

Travel 2013: Island hopping in Thailand

Starting in Bangkok, we took an overnight train to Surat Thani, transferred to a boat and then spent a few nights in Koh Samui.  (Koh means island.)  Next, we got another boat and spent a week on Koh Tao, a few islands to the north.  Two days ago, we took an overnight boat back to Surat Thani, and a mini-van and ferry through Krabi to Koh Lanta, on the west coast.  Here's a map of the route:

Click here are some photos from our island hopping, stay tuned for an accompanying text update:

Travel 2013: Bangkok food

Thai food, as you may already know, is by and large wholly delicious.  One amazing example are the ubiquitous "pancake" or "roti" stands at nearly every tourist hub.  In my opinion they're more like crepes than pancakes, but hey, I'm not complaining.  I took a video of one being prepared -- it's not sped up at all, he's just super fast.  And it was delicious - all for 25 baht, which is less than $1.

Travel 2013: Bangkok

We’ve spent just under a week in Bangkok so far and are headed south on a sleeper train tonight to the island of Koh Samui.  Before we depart, I want to share a few observations and notes on what we’ve seen here so far.  (As always, more photos here.)

A few observations:
-> Thai people seem so happy! Passersby look at me almost expectantly and when I smile, they smile back!  And their smiles take up their whole face, genuinely.  Not like just the mouth-only smiles in the U.S. - clearly a nicety - these people seem to be smiling with emotion behind it.
-> There are cats everywhere and sometimes they enjoy a good petting.  I take advantage of these situations and get my cat-fix met.
-> Water taxis are a veritable mode of public transportation. For the equivalent of 50 cents, you can go to anywhere along the river in a long boat that very efficiently offloads passengers.
-> The streets of Thailand are basically a meat fest.  At nearly any point, you can stop and get BBQ'ed meat on a stick.  Hot dogs, various other sausage-looking things, chicken, squid, fish, etc, etc., oh and bacon wrapped hot dogs, as well as many meats unknown to me, but they pretty much all always smell delicious.  I haven’t succumb to the temptation yet, but I was close this morning.
-> 7-11s here are like Starbucks in the U.S.  I'm in an internet cafe (a cafe called Internet Cafe actually) where next door there is a 7-11 across the street from another 7-11.  We got directions to the boat taxi pier from our hotel as such: "at the first 7-11 cross the street until you reach the second 7-11, then turn right."
-> Thai iced tea on the street is amazing.  I will attempt to capture a video of someone making it.  There's something special about the crushed ice that makes it also amazing.  That and sweetened condensed milk is nearly always glorious.
-> "Bangkok," by the way, is a nickname.  It's full name (as we learned on the plane over) is the longest city name in the world. Here it is: Krungthepmahanakhon Amonrattanakosin Mahintharayutthaya Mahadilokphop Noppharatratchathaniburirom Udomratchaniwetmahasathan Amonphimanawatansathit Sakkathattiyawitsanukamprasit.  In English, that is: City of angels, great city of immortals, magnificent city of the nine gems, seat of the king, city of royal palaces, home of gods incarnate, erected by Visvakarman at Indra's behest.  (According to Wikipedia, which has a specific segment on it's name.)

Attractions:

Buddhas at Wat Po

*Wat Po (6.13)
Wat (Temple) Po is a large complex built around a gigantic reclining Buddha.  At 46 meters long (that's over 120 feet), the gilded Buddha lays covered by an intricately decorated temple building.  His feet are black with inlaid mother of pearl scenes depicting his journey to enlightenment.  Each toe has concentric circles like toe prints.  The interior walls of the building were painted with various scenes.

This particular temple is also home to the greatest number of representations (at least 1,000) of Buddha in all of Thailand, so not only are there walls that tell the story of his life, there are multiple other buildings that house dozens of golden statues of the Buddha, surrounded by even more murals.

The entry gates are watched over by towering stone-carved guardian figures holding swords dressed in warrior garb.

Bugs!  For eating!  On Khao San

*Khao San (6.13)
Khao San is the main tourist thoroughfare of Bangkok - hosting bars that blare loud music, clubs offering live bands, and an eclectic mix of street vendors - everything from sarongs and dresses to grasshoppers and scorpions (for eating).  Crepe makers, meat BBQ'ers, and pad thai on demand, cooked to your liking, and with meats of your choosing.  At each end, there are a group of men hawking tuk tuk rides to "pussy markets" and the red light district.

Buddha at the Grand Palace

*Grand Palace (6.14)
The Grand Palace is a rambling complex of temples, throne rooms, stupas, gardens, and royal residences.  It's also home to the Emerald Buddha, a life size (?) green effigy that perches atop a pile of gold - a throne surrounded by other bodhisattvas (I assume).

Mangosteens, lychees and rambutans at the Chatuchak Market

*Chatuchak Weekend Market (6.15)
We took a boat taxi down the Chao Phraya River to the sky train stop, got on the sky train and arrived at the Chatuchak market for just under $2 each.  Chatuchak is the world's largest weekend market - at over 35 acres, it attracts over 200,000 shoppers each day.  The path from the market to the sky train station was lined with vendors selling toothbrush holders, skirts, BBQ'ed meat, iPhone covers, and everything in between.  Right outside the market are food stands with lots of tables outside cooking delicious smelling meals.  We grabbed a half-frozen chrysanthemum juice for 30 cents on the way in - a cold and sweet start.  Inside we saw so many clothes - Thai and Indian styles, American brands, and lots of smaller stands with custom-made pieces.  Tailors too with old-timey foot powered sewing machines.  The weekend market was a maze of necklaces, bracelets, wallets, purses, rings, and high-end home decorations and furniture.  After a quick snack, we happened upon the animal area: sugar gliders next to scorpions and iguanas.  Adorable (but hot) kittens and puppies, baby rabbits.  Throughout the day, we would spend a few minutes looking at wares, then went to the outskirts to grab some delicious grub, including: pad see ew (fat, fried rice noodles + veggies), a taro (sweet root veggie) waffle from the sky train station, freshly made coconut ice cream, pad thai, and coconut water.  While we ate our coconut ice cream, we stood behind a fresh fruit vendor who was eating bugs out of a bag instead of her fruit.  Still haven’t tried the bugs.

Towards the heavens at Wat Arun

*Wat Arun (6.16)
This morning we boarded a boat taxi down the river and then transferred to a different boat that took us across the river for 10 cents each.  We got off at Wat Arun Ratchawararam Ratchawaramahawihan, or Wat Arun, a temple that is a relic from the former seat of power.   The tower and surrounding stupas are decorated with mosaic pieces that look almost like shaped broken dishes –some with a familiar blue and white floral Chinese look to them.  From afar, Arun looks gray, but up close and in the sun, you can see the glimmer and color of every piece of tile – a two-hundred-foot (86 m) tall tower mosaic stretching toward the heavens.  Near the bottom of each of the main tower and four surrounding, smaller towers, there’s a row of guardians – holding the towers up and protecting them from ...something bad.  Climbing the steep stairs was reminiscent of climbing Teotihuacan near Mexico City – the steep steps demand continuous attention and require a break at the top to catch your breath and balance.  The main tower affords great views of the city, traffic on the river, and a different perspective of the four towers below.  After we got back down and explored a little more, we followed the sound of chanting monks to a temple that, not surprisingly, was home to another large, golden Buddha.

Stay tuned for updates coming from the southern islands of Koh Samui, Koh Phangan, and Koh Tao.

Travel 2013: First impressions of Thailand

Stone soldier, Wat Po, Bangkok (click for more)

6.11, Bangkok

Coming from Delhi, Bangkok has been great so far.  Clean, polite, easy to navigate.  People smile back at you and men do not stare.  There are far more tourists in the area we’re staying than I’d seen in India.  Also, people are voluntarily helpful.  We ducked into a café this morning (which are everywhere!) and took out a map to see where we were planning to go and meet Licia’s friend.  A Thai man sitting next to us (reading a book about learning German) asked us where we wanted to go!  He also bid us a good trip in Thailand.  So far at least 2 people have also asked me if I’ve learned Thai yet.  At this point, I think “hello” is “sawasdee.”  I’d like to learn the basic niceties like please and thank you.  

Furthermore, we’ve walked through small marketplaces and have not been harassed.  In India, if you so much as looked at something the vendors (usually men) would ask you, “what you need?  I have it all,” “how much you pay?”  I heard a number say, “I have everything you need.”  (Which I found rather hilarious.)  It was very overwhelming.  For example, one of the last days in Delhi, we were trying to buy a few pieces of fruit, so we went to a stand in the middle of 5 or so other stands.  And he was clearly over-charging us and trying to get us to buy what I thought was a rotten mango.  He claimed the mango was good and such, and the whole time 3 other men were yelling at us to buy their fruit.  A man peeled a lychee and stuck it in my face and was naming prices so I would buy them, he eventually got to a very low price and I had only said, repeatedly, “no thank you” to him.  We eventually had to leave because I couldn’t focus on how much money it should be for the fruit (or if we should even buy that mango) and 

I no longer wanted it after being incessantly yelled at.

It’s definitely monsoon season here.  It’s pouring as I’m writing this post, and has been for quite some time.  The rain happens suddenly and quickly and downpours for at least 30 minutes multiple times a day.

Travel 2013: Sexism in india

The oppression of women, or sexism, in India was worse than I expected.  However, I’m sure that several of these things are sexist as I perceive them and may not be perceived that way by the women who live it every day.   I can say for sure, that men make it uncomfortable for women (at least foreign women) to walk on the street.  They stare blatantly and harshly.  This can range from curiosity to something more lustful and scary.   Many times a day, men would walk by staring directly at our breasts and not make eye contact – this is from close range.  There was rarely a time when my sister and I were sitting some place where there were not men staring.  I’m not exaggerating.  For example, in restaurants, often there would be either another patron or multiple wait staff staring.  One time, I counted 10 at once in a restaurant.  On our train ride from Delhi to Agra (a major tourist thoroughfare) 5 men stared as we played cards.

In a tourism book, I read that it isn’t uncommon for women to get groped in public spaces (like crowded markets or public transportation).  Fortunately this didn’t happen to me, but I had the mind to grab some man’s wrist after he tried anything and not just let him walk away freely from it.

Occasionally, often with some layer of protection, like speed (from a moving autorickshaw) or glass (from inside a restaurant), my sister and I would challenge blatant and unrelenting staring.  Once Licia stuck her tongue out at a guy who was staring from outside restaurant and he started laughing as he tried to return the gesture.  He eventually moved out of direct line of sight but still checked in on us.  The last few days, we started saying things loudly to each other, like “you shouldn’t stare,” or “stop staring at us.”  I’m pretty sure it is also seen as impolite in Indian culture, but I didn’t see any Indian women respond to it.

The dress code is different in India for women than it is in the U.S., but that is being challenged in big cities by younger women.  Traditionally, women wear saris (long cloth wrapped around her body) or kurtas and tights or some pants under them.  Their legs were generally fully covered, and often, with kurtas, so were their arms.  And this is in temperatures above 100 degrees F.  Licia and I generally wore dresses with tights under them, so not as fully covered, but still more than either of us would like to wear if we had the choice.  Pulling up tights in 100 degree weather is far from easy or comfortable.  So we felt like we were doing our part to not have our bodies exposed.

And I think the heat made my frustration with staring men worse.  Since it’s difficult to feel any power in the face of the threat of violence and potential lack of shared language, we often felt unable to express anything to the men who were being offensive.  Put that in a steamy oven of 115 degrees that is Delhi in the summer and it feels pretty ugly.  

Travel 2013: Anatomy of an Indian toilet

Indian style toilet

There are two types of toilet in India – Indian and Western.  Indian are kind of like a slightly fancy hole in the ground, with places for your feet and sometimes a built in flushing device, other times you use a bucket of water to rinse it down.  Western are generally the same as in the U.S.  The range of cleanliness is vast – from a floor wet with water and who knows what else to very fancy and well-kept commodes, sometimes supplied with toilet paper.

All bathrooms I’ve seen so far have a secondary water source – either in a spigot or as what I see most closely as a sprayer from a kitchen sink.  The spigot usually is accompanied by a small bucket, so you can splash water.  The idea is to use that to spray yourself off after you’ve done your business.  

Travel 2013: Agra

6.4-6.7, Agra

Kids next to a motorcycle, Agra, India

I expected Agra to be the most touristy part of India: people more used to tourists, the city easier to navigate, people less curious about our existence.  This wasn’t the case.  Agra appeared like a rural Indian town, cows and dogs in the street, people staring, windy small potholed roads leading up to very old buildings.  Granted there are some resorts which are extremely well kept and cater to nearly every tourist whim (spas, gyms, pools, salons, expensive stores, multiple restaurants – all in one), but as soon as you leave the hotel, it is dirty, smoggy, rural India.   I expected Agra to be more built up around the tourist industry than it was.  I also expected to see the influx of money to have trickled down into more social services.   My expectations were wrong.  For example, there were shanties made of bamboo and tarp across the street from our hotel, something I wouldn’t expect of one of the major tourist destinations of the world.

This title is deservedly so.  The Taj Mahal was spectacular.  It was much bigger in person than I thought it would be, and it sits on a much larger complex than I’d known.  We generally only see the white building in photos, but there are also 3 other large red and white buildings at each cardinal direction around the Taj.  It also sits on a large river which was mostly dry and filled with rubbish when we were there.  Though, I’m pretty sure I saw cranes down there, and there were definitely water buffalo.  In the complex itself there were water birds (herons?) and a troupe of monkeys that ran through.

Monkey in the Taj Mahal complex (3 large red buildings surround the Taj)

We got up at sunrise to see the Taj and thankfully so, because by 8:30 it was already very hot (using sweat rags and sitting in the shade).  The intricately inlaid stone work on the giant, magnificent white building set it apart from anything I’ve ever seen.  Multiple colors of other precious stones are carved into white marble to made various designs.  The domed ceilings are made into geometric shapes typical of Mughal architecture.

While we were in Agra we also saw the Itmad-Ud-Dalaugh and the Agra Fort, both of which were also very impressive.

Travel 2013: One line thoughts from India

Itmad-Ud-Daulah, Agra - Click for more photos

- In Agra , water is stored on the top of the roof in a large, black plastic tank. So after a day in 115 degree heat, taking a shower is not refreshing at all.
- Bathrooms are never air conditioned and rarely have a fan, so if you're in there for any more than 30 seconds you're sweating.
- People ask us where we're from (actually the question is usually, "what country?").  A few times I asked back, "where do you think?"  Responses have included Canada, Germany and Iceland.  This is strange to me because I had assumed they knew we were Americans, but I guess that's not the case.
- Most checks at restaurants are served with a bowl of fennel seeds, which are sometimes coated in sugar, but more often raw and accompanied with large sugar crystals. It aids digestion and is called saf.
- Amid other smells, frequently I smell incense burning in vendor's stalls, restaurant checkout counters, and shrines in nearly every place.
- There are small shrines everywhere - in trees, in taxi/rickshaws, in the middle of strip malls, in many homes,...
- At lunch one day, we talked with Uma a little about gender. She said that having children is the pinnacle of womanhood, something that men will never be able to. Since this is the case, she suggested that women don't have reason to worry about “success” as men do – in terms of their career.
- The taxi drivers often approach us saying: “Yes ma’am, taxi” – assuming we’ve asked. Sometimes they say “taxi maybe tomorrow."
- It’s really great to see men holding hands and walking in the street with their arms over each other’s shoulders. I’m glad men can express visible camaraderie with other men.
- Being here makes the U.S. seem so organized.
- Most residential (non-slum) buildings I’ve seen are made of brick and cement – not wood, but I assume this is more typical of big cities.
- At some point, Uma told Licia she needs to gain 10 KGs – something that may be typical for all old world parents and grandparents.
- We saw stairs leading to tunnels labeled “Subway” in Mumbai but were confused because we had heard of no subway stations. Then, on the way to Haji Ali, we decided to use a subway to cross a busy intersection and were both surprised to see nothing remotely like a metro station – that’s because a subway is just that – and underground way to cross the intersection.
- In addition to normal express trains, the Indian Railroad runs “superfast express trains.”
- Any space can become a cricket field. Whether it is an empty field, a garbage dumping space, or ruins in the middle of a city, groups of young boys convene to play together.

Travel 2013: Travel log for the past few days

Candolim Beach, Goa - Click for more pictures

5.24, Panaji Goa
When we got to Panaji, we walked around to find a hotel.  We got to one and tried to bargain with the price, after which the woman at the reception desk suggested we go into a back office and talk to the man.  We then asked to see the room, which was quite large and air conditioned.  After, we were escorted back to his office.  He was clearly not occupied with anything prior to us coming to his office, which was littered with multiple half-drunk liquor bottles, including Jonnie Walker Black Label.  He wore multiple large rings and talked with his hands together on the top of his desk in a slow measured voice about how many amenities he offered and how he was offering us a good price.  We said we were going to think about it (i.e. check out other hotels) and he said “don’t think.”  It was difficult to maintain our composure and not talk back to him or laugh at the mafia style type of interaction we were having.  We ended up staying for one night paying our price and then leaving for a different hotel owned by a woman.

5.26, Candolim
We’re in a beach town called Panaji in Goa, but it’s difficult to swim.  Often there are nearly naked men on the beach along with fully clothed women – I mean in full saris.   As if a man might accidentally throw himself at a less-clothed woman.  It’s such a low expectation that has violently been lived up to too many times.

Today we spent the afternoon watching some TV in the hotel in the air conditioning because the sun was too intense to be outside.  The main thing I noticed was so many commercials about skin lightening creams.  There were also several ads to clean pollution off your face.

Walking along the sidewalk, you can see cow prints in the sand.

5.27 (candolim, fort aguada, panaji, sleeper bus)
People we’ve talked to or asked for help finding things are either completely unhelpful or way more helpful than necessary.  For example, some people will listen to the question and then just turn away and ignore you.  On the other hand, today we asked a woman for directions to a fort.  She told us it was up the road a few kilometers, then offered to take us “triple seated” on her motorcycle, and then offered to teach us how to drive her motorcycle.

5.28 (sleeper bus and Thane, temple at night)
Shruti’s dad told us about I.S.T., or Indian stretchable (not standard) time, where leaving at 5pm turns into solidly after 7, and a “15 minute walk” to the closest grocery store is often an undeterminable distance.

At “5,” we went with Uma, her husband and his mother to a temple, because it was the fourth night past the full moon.  This means that if you bring your problems to the deity (can’t remember which one) they will be solved.  It was also the shifting of Jupiter from one astrological sign to another.  I learned that temples are often modeled after the 9 planets, including a small shrine for each one.  I wondered how they’ve responded to the recent declassification of Pluto.

5.29 (train to Aurangabad)
Travelling allows you to see “normal” – not just your own, as reflected by expectations about how things “should be,” but also the things that pass as normal to those who inhabit the space.  I like being able to have the curiosity of a child, and ask people about everyday things. However, sometimes asking about what things are or do is risky in that it might be rude to ask…and I might not be able to convey that I’m sorry for the transgression …but can you be?

We took a train to Aurangabad, the closest city to the Ellora caves.  We sat next to a man who was taking what sounded like business calls, interrupted by smoke breaks.  At one point, he bought a few bags of fried Indian snacks and a coke.  After a while, after both Licia and I had eaten bananas, I opened a bag of chips, to which he said, “not good for health.”  It was the only thing he said to us the entire time.

Later that night, in Aurangabad, we took a rickshaw to a himroo loom center where they make silk fabrics by hand.  One loom we saw had a 6,000 thread count – woven by hand.  On the way we saw a rickshaw with the words “shit happens” printed on the back.

Licia with family who wanted to take her picture.

Often we are objects of interest.  People find us curious to look at and want to take our pictures.  Many people ask us where we’re from and want to shake our hands.  A few younger adults have wanted to friend us on Facebook.  Little kids stare at us curiously and sometimes their moms try and push them to say “hi” to us or shake our hands, generally the kids don't want to.  Twelve year old boys on the street yell “hello” and wave.  Most of the time I’ve found this amusing, but sometimes, like when I needed to sit down because I almost passed out from the heat, I find it a little off-putting, because people don’t really care what we’re doing and will interrupt anything to ask.

5.30 - Ellora
The Ellora caves were carved between the 5th and 7th century by three groups of monks – Jains, Buddhists, and Hindus.  They’re very intricate and very well preserved.  Like outdoor monasteries, they’re “one with nature” and have bats, monkeys, squirrels, birds, and other creatures in and around them.  On the taxi ride there, you can see layers of buildings stretching back some 2000 years – from tombs, forts, and more recent tourist-centric constructions.  It is easy to clearly feel history in the present.

5.31 night train back to Thane
One of the most striking things about India is the proximity of extreme poverty and luxury.  From the air conditioned room that has a flat-screen TV in an apartment building, I can see people living in shacks cooking over fire.  Potentially homeless and illiterate, often barefoot rickshaw drivers wait outside Western-inspired multi –level malls.  Early in the morning or at nighttime we often pass people sleeping on the street or in the taxi they drive; it’s not clear if this is a temporary or permanent bed.

I’ve seen slums in Latin America – those outside Mexico City are vast and densely populated.  However, what’s different about India is how close the rich and poor live.  Another way to say this is that even if you’re feeling bad about your situation, there’s usually someone else in view that is in a worse situation.

6.1
We talked with Shruti about judging another culture.   My main question is, is it possible to do it in a way that isn’t inherently anthropocentric and imperialistic? In other words, can I make any observations as a U.S.-er about a culture that doesn’t necessarily rely on my frame as coming from an imperialist country?  Won’t all my judgments definitely be shaded with my expectations as based in my U.S. upbringing?

I’m not worried as much about political correctness, but then again, I don’t really know what is and is not politically correct in India.  For some things, like using plastic, it’s easier to say that it’s messed up and we (all) need to find a solution.  For things like whether or not things are sexist/oppressive to women, it gets more difficult.  I’m wondering when this becomes a question of pedagogy of the oppressed.

6.2
Today we flew from BOM to DEL.  Security lines are always gender segregated (men, women).  Women are often patted down by another woman and usually within a cloth enclosed privacy box.  The line to get in deviated between women who had bags to run through the X-ray scanner and those who didn’t.  Those who didn’t proceeded directly to the pat down area, and the line was very long, so it didn’t make sense to put your bag through the scanner and then wait in a line we’d already waited in, but no one wanted to let us in.  So the space up to the scanner/gate thing became completely filled with women, no semblance of a queue (line), and women behind me were yelling about not having a double queue.  People were pushing from the back so multiple women were standing in the scanner machine, and then the guards started yelling.  Meanwhile people are prodding me forward and being irritated with me “cutting” in the line I’ve waited in, and I’m wondering what is happening to my bag at the end of the X-ray machine.  I started laughing a few minutes in at the absurdity.

6.3, exploring Delhi
We spent today exploring Delhi.  We rode the Metro and I was struck at how nice it is.  There are gender segregated cars – which is great because the men’s cars get packed, and the women’s cars have been often much more empty.  The gender segregation is such that I’ve seen a mother and son get on the women’s car and the son stands on the other side of the divider.  The cars are fully air conditioned, have LED indicators for the stops (where it’s been, where it’s going), and spaces for people who are “differently abled.”

Our first stop was the area around the India Gate (this time commemorating Indian soldiers, not the British colonization).  We took an autorickshaw to a Tibetan market, but were promptly hungry.  Unfortunately the only food options we could easily find were Pizza Hut and McDonalds.  So we checked out the McDonalds, which turns out to only serve chicken and vegetarian options.  Licia tried a McAloo Tikka burger.  Sucked into the bastion of Western familiarity (and the novelty), I got chicken nuggets.

We also went to Purana Qila, a super old fort with a mosque built in 1541.

In the heat of the day we stopped in at the Imperial Hotel (that’s seriously the name) for high tea.  For USD$15 you get tea, scones, jam and cream, desserts like eclairs, tea sandwiches, and an air conditioned atmosphere so vastly different from the street market we just arrived from.

Chandi Chowk

After we went to another area of town, called Chandi chowk/Chawri Bazaar.  It looked much different than the other parts of Delhi and India I’ve seen.  The streets are loaded with bicycles and bike-rickshaws and are packed to the brim with people (mostly men) walking around.  The power lines are hung low and dogs and cows roam freely.  The 3-4 story buildings looked commercial on the bottom and residential on the top and the road was narrow.

6.4, train to Agra
On the train to Agra, we played cards while 5 men stared at us.

Stay tuned for more thoughts on Agra and Delhi before we leave for Bangkok, Thailand on Monday!

Responses to NPR podcast on language and assimilation

I listened to an NPR podcast Luke sent me, involving the "Race Card Project" and language and assimilation. Here are some of my thoughts:

• It's an interesting turn when she says "more American...whatever that means" -- at 1:22 - and then goes on to explain what she thinks/knows they meant. She knows what it means -- it means speaking only English or English without an accent, and I'm not sure why she makes it sound like she doesn't.
• "Language of the new homeland, where in America that means English" - I wish they'd be a little more critical here, because an older language of Ft. Worth Texas is Spanish, so in this case you could actually claim that the (a) language of the homeland is Spanish.
• I'd also like to hear more about the labels "hispanic" and "latino" in the podcast. Both of those words were created by people outside of those groups, and because of this, among other reasons, I don't like them...but I realize that many people identify as such.  There's enough effort from outside the groups to create groups in order to control or marginalize them -- let's not use this kind of motivation to self-identify.  On the other hand, the label "chicano" was created from within the Mexican American group as part of the liberation movement in the U.S in the 60s.
• I can definitely empathize with the "internalized criticism" and her saying "I'm not Mexican, my parents are."   I wish she would elaborate on her reflections of this statement now, as "making amends for a deep wound."  Does she mean the wound of not being able to identify?
• I'd agree with this statement, except for "my dad's chicano, not me" - it's really hard to own any of this because being Mexican sucks in this country right now (and has for a while).
• She said her "whole family has regret around not learning Spanish" -- I wonder if this is true for my family. I certainly do regret not speaking more Spanish with my grandpa.
• I wonder why she can't master the language as an academic?  (Those are the interviewer's words, but I don't think they're correct -- more like why she hasn't decided to.)  I wish they'd talk more about her struggle (if there was one) to learn Spanish - does she want to? What gets in her way?
• I recently seen the answer to this question for myself clearly -- that internalized racism and racism were the factors getting in the way of me learning Spanish. Since finding this out, and with the support from others, it's been a little easier to speak it and feel more comfortable doing so lately.
• It was really touching when she answered "what do you lose when you lose your language? home, relationship" - that's definitely true. "Family" is what I'd say.
• Most of all - it's cool to see someone else's experiences that are similar to mine represented in big media. It's going to be a growing topic as more and more latinos/Latin Americans come to and are born in the U.S.

Travel 2013: Transportation in India: Autorickshaws

One of the many forms of transportation available includes what are called autorickshaws or tuk tuks (same as what they were called in Guatemala).  They're small, three wheeled vehicles with a loud exhaust pipe and many run on CNG - compressed natural gas.  They're cheaper than taxis and abundant nearly everywhere.  Most don't have a solid roof - only a metal frame with plastic stretched over it.  Many are highly customized ("pimped out") with shrines, sayings written on the back, and other dangly ornaments hanging off.  The night I took the video, we drove past one that said "Shit Happens" in big letters on the back.  Not very reassuring.  When I get scared of traffic and accidents, I tell myself that it's in the driver's best interest not to get in an accident and remember that he wants to live.  At the least, accidents are inconvenient.

Generally, driving here, like in many other countries, is not as organized as in the U.S. and is often (similar to the U.S.) peppered with incessant horn honking.  It's encouraged actually.  As far as I can tell, one of the main reasons for honking is showing intent to pass.  Notice in the video the motorcycles weaving in and out of lanes, often with multiple people who aren't wearing helmets.  The most people I've seen on one bike is 5, often 2 parents with 3 small children sandwiched in between.  Autorickshaws can be packed to the brim at around 8 people.

Here's a video to give you a little insight -- a short autorickshaw ride in Aurangabad, India at night:

Oh, and seeing a woman driving is a rarity - we (Licia and I) generally point it out to each other when it happens.

Travel 2013: Transportation in India

Sleeper train vs. sleeper bus

Individual beds = +1 to sleeper train
The train can have either two or three levels ("tiers") of beds, on one side of the aisle either 4 or 6 and the other side either 2 or 3.  In the 2 tier, you can comfortably sit up, but the 3 tier doesn't provide enough room to sit - only lay down flat.  You're provided sheets, blankets, and pillows.  During mealtimes, people sell the time-appropriate foods, including chai, cold water, and other refreshments.

On the other hand, the sleeper bus is a standard coach bus size, with the seats removed and converted into two levels - kind of like permanent bunk beds, with only enough room to sit up.  Each bed is a twin size, for two people, and sometimes they are randomly assigned - as in the case with our tickets which we booked late.  Licia and I were traumatized at the thought of having to share such a small, secluded space with a random man (spooning all night) and so we just ducked into one, claimed it for ourselves, and hunkered down.  I vowed to leave only kicking and screaming.  But apparently it wasn't an issue because the conductors are forgiving with women, so we were gracefully accommodated.

Bathrooms on board = +1 to sleeper train
Shortly after we boarded the bus and getting ready to sleep, Licia had to use the bathroom.  We both wandered up and down the bus aisle before we asked a woman at the front of the coach who laughed
at the question.  At this point, I stopped drinking water and took a pepto tablet - a lifesaver which calms the stomach and quells any need to use the bathroom for the next few hours.

About an hour later, the bus stopped and the conductor yelled "2 minutes" in Hindi, which Licia understood.  We put our shoes on as fast as we could, got off the bus, and followed a few other women to the bathroom.  We did our business and ran back to the bus.  A few hours later, around 4:30 am the bus stopped again, but this time there were many other buses and the bathroom was packed with women and children forming indiscriminate lines to 5 stalls.  As I finally got to the stall and opened the door, a woman with a child pleaded with me about her bus leaving soon and that they should go first.  The bathroom itself was pretty nasty - a wet floor with some mix of water, urine, and others...leaving my shoes disturbingly wet as we got back on the bus.

The sleeper trains have 4 bathrooms per car, some "Western" and some Indian.  Western means a veritable toilet, sometimes with a seat, whereas Indian means a platform on the floor with a hole through which you can sometimes see the tracks racing by below.  Both have pressurized water for flushing, a sink, though rarely is there soap or toilet paper.  Sometimes they are relatively clean, other times not.

Food = +1 to sleeper train

I woke up in the morning on the train to someone yelling something having to do with food, walking up and down the car, stopping periodically for transactions.  Next was the guy with a few gallons of warm chai, refreshing after an air conditioned ride.  For 7 rupees (less than 20 cents), you get a small cup of warm milk, sugar, and black tea.

No such luxuries were offered on the bus.  The 4:30 am stop did include a chaat stand (snacks) but I was too worried about getting back to the bus after weaving my way through dozens of women to get to the bathroom, plus it was far too early and far too few bathroom stops to consider eating.

Stop announcements = +1 to sleeper bus
We were surprised on the sleeper train that the stations weren't announced - you have to know your stop and get off at the right time.  We learned our lesson after our first trip and now we write down the 3 stops before where we need to get off so we can know where on the line we're at, as time isn't always a reliable metric of approaching the destination.

On the other hand the bus conductor announced the stops in a mix of other Hindi words that Licia didn't understand.  However, many towns have multiple pronunciations, and it can be confusing.

Overall score
Sleeper train = +3
Sleeper bus = +1, but at least -5 at the possibility of sharing a twin bed with a random man for a bumpy 12 hour ride, and maybe a few more negative points from the assorted fecal wetness on the bottom of my sandals, which I eventually put back into my cozy bed

Travel 2013

Stay tuned for updates from Goa, Ellora, and the Haji Ali in Mumbai.  For now, check out the photos:

Buddhist Temple at Ellora caves, hand carved into basalt mountains in the 7th century

Travel 2013: Indian Railway pt 2

5.24 – Night train to Goa
Anyone speaking in an elevated voice on the train is selling food or chai. Speaking of food, we’ve been completely vegetarian so far, and it’s very easy to be veg here.  However, it's rare to find raw vegetables, which I'm currently craving.  Most foods have veggies cooked into a sauce/gravy or chutney, or battered and fried -- the majority of which have been delicious.

A thought on the train: after thousands of years of burning our garbage, now it’s cancerous. Plastic, when burned, releases dioxin, a known and banned carcinogen. Whereas previously (and still, but more rarely), food has been served in leaves shaped into bowls and ceramic cups for chai, you could dispose of it on the side of the tracks and soon it would biodegrade. Now, evidence of plastic’s longevity is everywhere - on the roadside, in rural farm fields, in the stomachs of stray dogs, and burnt and sent up as toxic fumes.

Travel 2013: Indian Railway

A sheet on the sleeper car of the train - they all had dates they were made and the black slowly fades to gray over time

5.23, 1 a.m., night train to Goa

At 1 a.m. I learn the magic of the Indian Railway.  Even though the station smells of human urine, with sand bags and garbage lining the tracks, peppered with unshy rats, the station is still full of families travelling with luggage, sitting on the ground in the middle of the hot balmy night.  Every station prints a list of passengers that board there, with old-school printer paper with tabbed edges: here you consult your seat assignment. There were zero other identifiable foreigners and no women travelers unaccompanied by a man.

Travel 2013: Mumbai

5.22 - Mumbai

I’ve been wondering about race.  It’s clear that race is so connected to class in the U.S., and I’m pretty sure it’s not the same here.  I feel myself surprised to see darker Indians passing similarly (as far as I can tell) as the lighter skinned.  I asked about it during breakfast and received a history lesson/lecture on the caste system in India.  We also talked about the green revolution and GMOs, over a breakfast of small bananas (kela), sweet + mango jelly, mango jaggery + cheese sandwich, and my first chai.

Trying to get on the bus, I notice that Licia and I are not good at queues (lines) because everyone else pushes to the front, in any way possible – including using their children.  We have mostly gotten pushed to the back of the line because we’re too reserved to elbow people out of our way.  Also, personal space is smaller, and this is very clearly evidenced in driving.

Women are less prevalent in public spaces.  For example, on our full bus, there were 4 women. 

The feeling of sitting in the car with a kid tapping the window: a single pane(pain) of transparent glass separating and representing two wholly different worlds. Her barefoot in the street running into intersections with stopped cars, her face clearly dirtied and no sign of any parent/guardian, me sitting in A/C on fake leather car seat on my way somewhere with a $500 camera in my lap.

Travel 2013: Mumbai

People living in shacks and cooking over fire, taken out of a room with A/C and a flatscreen TV - click for more photos

5.21 - Mumbai

The first thing I smell in the morning is the faint but definitive thick scent of burning plastic.  The hard bed provided a balance of comfort and support to sleep well and not have an achy back.  We had the luxury of air conditioning for most of the night, but waking up without it means hot, frizzy hair and a grease-shined face.

Colonization here by the British is much different than it was in the U.S.  At least the way I see it, most Indians don’t bear physical resemblance to the British, whereas the majority of U.S. citizens have European descent – at least for now, before “latinos” take over the majority position.

My sister and I are staying at my friend’s parent’s (and grandparent’s) house, who own their own business.  They have a nice, clean, new car (where, by the way back seat belts are not compulsory and therefore do not have a hole to click it in to) and a big apartment – not crowded with stuff or technology. A wooden swing is the living/dining room separator – bars on the windows on the third floor.  Our temporary bedroom looks out to the construction of another neighboring tower. 

Uma asked us first thing in the morning what we’re doing still lounging in bed – “come out and make yourself at home.” She then proceeded to sweep the room and the rest of the house with a  small, short natural fiber broom. Breakfast was idly (kind of a soft rice paddy) and tomato coconut chutney; we talked about how globalization and development is, in the man of the house’s words “eroding the character of India.”

We took a $2 A/C bus with a TV and “tequila” song playing to downtown Mumbai. Building stories are propped up with bamboo and rebar sticking out like candles on the birthday cake for a 200 year old.  Extreme poverty butts up to the roadside: garbage, stray dogs, naked children squatting in the dirt.  The periodic rivers are littered with brightly colored plastic wrappers picked at by tall, leggy white shorebirds.  We mostly receive unabashed staring, kids’ warm, dark, curious eyes included, though not all are as friendly.

Travel 2013: Mumbai

HORN OK PLEASE, written on many trucks as a plea to notify the driver of intent to pass -- click for more pictures

5.20 - Mumbai, first impressions
Slums packed right up to the boundary of the airport, intense eye contact from male passersby, brightly colored traditional women's clothing, tropical plants and air that feels like an oven.  A thick mix of smog and humidity blankets the city.  Big trucks and buses that say HORN OK PLEASE on the back.  Many tuk tuks / autorickshaws buzz past driven by persistent shoeless men.

The smells of development - burning plastic, construction materials, underregulated vehicular exhaust - hint at a country eager to catch up in the global rat race to success and happiness.

Licia at India Gate - click for more photos

5.20
Spicy mango chutney and white processed, individually wrapped cheese on toast, with a juicy alfonso mango, banana cut into museli with warm milk which is somehow, deliciously, more like the consistency of oatmeal, a small cup of coffee with sugar and Tropicana pomegranate juice.  This was my first meal in India, prepared by a friend's mom, Uma, in her house in a northern suburb of Mumbai.  After, she gave us a tour of her shrine, just off the kitchen in their third floor apartment, naming off deities and gurus, "in Hindu households you always find a place for God," she says.

Uma hired a driver who drove us around for an air conditioned view of many sights of southern Mumbai - starting with the India Gate.  Built to commemorate British colonialization, there is no visible or audible hint of any hard feelings. There were lots of people, apparently kids are on school holiday.  Someone with a plastic film camera shot our picture.

We are objects of interest here.  Men stare penetratingly and make me wonder what they're looking for.  Sometimes they break eye contact first if I am able to convey no emotion on my face - a tough exterior which fights my U.S. reflexive smile as a response to two gazes meeting.  Their eyes don't betray anything I can read as desire to connect - no clear compassion, niceness, or willingness to stop for a chat.  I want to see how his expression changes as if I start conversation.

We crossed the street to the Taj hotel, now famous as the survivor of 2008 terrorist attacks.  We took refuge from the intense heat to a restaurant that overlooks the Gate inside the hotel had some traditional chaat (street food/snacks) served gourmet. When Uma insisted on paying, she said the mandate of "treating guests as your God."

Travel 2013: USA via Shanghai and Delhi to Mumbai

Leaving the U.S. - click for more photos

5.18
It's 1am and 4pm at the same time.  I'm about to land in Shanghai after a 13 hour flight backwards (or forward?) in time.  I've never been to Asia before.  I've been realizing lately that smiling/looking nice is something unique to U.S. superficial social interactions - when we make eye contact, we usually smile.  Or when we interact and then say thanks, we smile.  It seems weird to me when (especially women) don't smile back - after making eye contact.

We landed into Shanghai with so much air pollution.  You can smell the air metallic on the plain.  I watched a ping pong game in the airport to pass the 5 hour layover.

From Shanghai, I flew to New Delhi, met my sister at 3 am local time, and then caught another flight to Mumbai.  Now we're staying with my friend's parents in a northern suburb.

Pre-travel thoughts

I imagine Thailand like Costa Rica –coasts rich in biodiversity, both on shore and off.  Lush, dense greenery with active mammal life.  Slow-moving and laid back people sipping cool drinks and partaking of the local seafood, with a tropical fruit twist.  Rundown machinery, from boats to street lamps, corroded by time and salt spray.  Probably a few sprinkled-in politically radicalized white, American ex-pats slinking by with few resources.

I caught myself in this imagery realizing that I also have no idea what Thailand will be like.  I’ve never been to a place where I didn’t remotely know the language or one of its linguistic cousins.  I’m apprehensive about going somewhere with clearly undeveloped communication skills.  I met someone a few weeks ago who said, though that communicating without spoken language can present a deeper, more human connection.  I’m not sure what she meant, but I’m excited to figure it out.  Excited and a little anxious – but that’s how it goes.

Some things I want to do in India:

• Take a train ride.
• Beaches?
• See wildlife
• Meet some people – Startup stay? Couch surfing?
• Meet up with a friend in Mumbai/Pune
• English tea
• Taj Mahal
• Eat: a mango, mango lassi, chai masala, a fruit I've never heard of

I'll let you know how it goes!  T minus 38 hours!

Thoughtful and artful video

Here's a short and entertaining video about remembering perspective: that we're human and can choose awareness.  We don't have to default to boredom in routine; we have the capability to snap out of it and choose.

Talking Back by bell hooks

Picked up bell hooks' Talking Back - thinking feminism, thinking black, and it's awesome!

I want to share a few quotes with you that I've found inspiring, and, as an appetizer a Ryan Gosling meme:

• In the world of the southern black community I grew up in, "back talk" and "talking back" meant speaking as an equal to an authority figure. ... To speak then when one was not spoken to was a courageous act - an act of risk and daring.
• There are some folks for whom openness is not about the luxury of "will I choose to share this or tell that," but rather "will I survive - will I make it through - will I stay alive?"
• The history of colonialization, imperialism is a record of betrayal, of lies, and deceits.  The demand for that which is real is a demand for reparation, for transformation.  In resistance, the exploited, the oppressed work to expose the false reality - to reclaim and recover ourselves.  We make the revolutionary history, telling the past as we have learned it mouth-to-mouth, telling the present as we see, know and feel it in our hearts and in our words.
• Moving from silence into speech is for the oppressed, the colonized, the exploited, and those who stand and struggle side by side a gesture of defiance that heals, that makes new life and new growth possible.  It is that act of speech, of "talking back," that is no mere gesture of empty words, that is the expression of our movement from object to subject - the liberated voice.
• [Poetry] was meant to transform consciousness, to carry the mind and heart to a new dimension.
• The insistence on finding one voice, one definitive style of writing, and reading one's poetry, fit all too neatly with the static notion of itself and identity that was pervasive in university settings.  It seemed that many black students found our situations problematic precisely because our sense of self, and by definition our voice, was not unilateral, monologist, or static, but rather multi-dimensional.
• When we dare to speak in a liberatory voice, we threaten even those who may initially claim to want our words. In the act of overcoming our fear of speech, of being seen as threatening, in the process of learning to speak as subjects, we participate in the global struggle to end domination. When we end our silence, when we speak in a liberated voice, our words connect us with anyone, anywhere who lives in silence. Feminist focus on women finding a voice, on the silence of black women, of women of color, has led to increased interest in our words. This is an important historical moment. We are both speaking of our own volition, out of our commitment to justice, to revolutionary struggle to end domination, and simultaneously called to speak, "invited" to share our words. It is important that we speak. What we speak about is more important. It is our responsibility collectively and individually to distinguish between mere speaking that is about self-aggrandizement, exploitation of the exotic "other," and that coming to voice which is a gesture of resistance, an affirmation of struggle.
• While the struggle to eradicate sexism and sexist oppression is and should be the primary thrust of feminist movement, to prepare ourselves politically for this effort we must first learn how to be in solidarity, how to struggle with one another.

Why I love it, a start:

I love how she sees voice as the mechanism to move from subject to object.  From colonized, to powerful. I love to hear her thoughts on how finding voice can be transformative, and how she also is critical of mainstream (white) feminism in that it isn't just about speaking, it's also about the content of what is said.
I love it because she makes me ask the question, again: "what does solidarity mean?"  She makes me want to understand and feel what she means by "an affirmation of struggle" - as it relates to finding a voice.

I love how she presents of the stakes of speaking up/talking back.  It's not a luxury of what to share, and does/has carry/carried serious punishments.  And it doesn't seem like she does so from a perspective of being a victim, which I've seen presented harshly recently.  Rather, she speaks a lot to the courage required and the power gained by speaking against these punishments.

Update, 1 hour later: just saw this on Facebook and I think it highlights a lot of what bell hooks brings up, check it out:

My response to GOOD blog post on women entrepreneurs

My mom sent me a link to this article: Don’t Just ‘Lean In’: 10 Ways Women Entrepreneurs and Leaders Should Take Action Now.  Which discusses a new social network, called Lean In, to support entrepreneurial women and then provides 10 tips.

Here are those 10:

• Stop talking about being a victim—words become beliefs that become reality. Be a positive voice in the gender conversation, and look for the gratitude and lessons in every situation.

• Smile and say “thank you” when complimented.

• Practice having honest and open dialogue—start with family or close friends and then move outwards. Be mindful of appropriateness, but eventually this kind of authentic vulnerability and boundary setting will feel seamless, natural, and empowering.

• Don’t wait for an invitation—ask for what you want. Nobody can read your mind, and life becomes much more fun when it’s interactive.

• Stop discrediting your achievements, and do not apologize your way out of the discomfort you feel as a result of your growth. Own it.

• If you’ve been talking about wanting to do something for a while, seek support and GO DO IT. Your taking action gives others permission to do the same.

• Set realistic expectations for yourself, and let go of the desire to be perfect. Watch as your frustrations with other people’s imperfections ease.

• If you feel competitive with another woman, reach out and offer to help her out. It’s amazing what counter-action (and a little kindness) can do to dissolve negative feelings. Do this for yourself—resentment is toxic only to the one harboring it.

• Stop obsessing and talking about your guilt. This self-centeredness stalls needed progress. Instead, use your emotions as a guidepost, allowing you to course-correct at anytime.

• Raise your hand, and keep it up.

Stop telling women to smile!

Frankly, I was put off by the assumptions that guide the 10 tips.  Like “stop being a victim” and “stop feeling guilty.”  I’m sure that: a) those aren’t the things that hold me back, and b) if they were, the author provides no guidance as to how to go about doing these things which wouldn’t help anybody feel better if they’re already feeling victimized (targeted) and guilty!
Oh, AND, this article makes no mention of the larger, systemic issues like patriarchy or how capitalism has been set up to privilege (white) men and undervalue women.  I’m not going to go in to that ball of wax here, but is central and should not be left out of this discussion.

The suggestions also remind me of a recent artist’s work against street harassment, called Stop Telling Women to Smile.

Oversimplified, cliche pop-psychology advice from a blog post isn’t going to change anything for female entrepreneurs.

On the other hand, the narrative part of the article that suggests building a support group of like-minded women (and maybe a few men), then addressing/discussing these items as a group, and sharing what actually works IS helpful.

Those bullets makes me feel like the author is stereotyping me, saying to stop doing something, and providing no path as to how to do so, completely devoid of the larger socio-cultural context.  I’m tired of that.

So here’s my bulleted list:

• Stop stereotyping women and provide meaningful, personal support before you make suggestions as to how we should live our lives, think about ourselves, and run our businesses.

Political Ethnicity

"This tribe called "women of color" is not an ethnicity.  It is one of the inventions of solidarity, an alliance, a political necessity that is not the given name of every female with dark skin and a colonized tongue, but rather a choice about how to resist and with whom." - Aurora Levins Morales

Funny TaskRabbit posts

Before I travel this summer, I've been working part time using TaskRabbit, a service that lets people post and pick up random tasks.  Anything from professional web/graphic design, research paper citation editing, data entry, house chores, etc.  Occasionally I run across tasks that are humorous.  I originally started tonight thinking that I'd download one and keep a few before I made this blog post, but just browsing through today's tasks provided 4 rather funny tasks (click to embiggen images):

Organize my Magic The Gathering playing card collection:

This needs no humorous subtitle.

Writing a Graduate Admissions essay:

Isn't this called cheating?

Create a compelling documentary of our 22 Years together on a CDROM that brings her (and my 3 daughters) to TEARS:

Um, if you'd outsource this no wonder she's leaving!

Resume writing:

Pretty sure this is why most of us are TaskRabbits in the first place

Epic Travels: Summer 2013

Stay tuned for updates on this trip.
Around the world in 93 days.

Here's the back story:

A Mexican cousin of mine studied abroad for a semester in high school, at a school which happened to be a stones throw from my parents' house.  Her parents visited at the beginning and end of the trip to see her off and pick her up, during which our families got a little closer, sharing dinners, shopping at U.S. malls for deals, even seeing a 3D movie together.  Angel, her father, a Spaniard who married into the Mexican side of my family, is damn proud of his Spanish heritage.  So much so that he invited my family of 4 to join his family of 4 on an epic month-long guided tour of the country.  My parents have never been to Europe (except for very recently my mom went to London).  So this will be great - great to know family even better, to perfeccionar mi español, and to have an expert (and architect!) show off Spain to us this July

As this unfolded, my sister was contemplating leaving her corporate job to do something meaningful with her life.  She figured out that a friend of a friend was working on a social entrepreneurship project in India.  So she quit her job and flew to India in January.  She's got a blog.

In December she was thinking of spending an in-between month in Thailand, travelling.  My thoughts were twofold. As a slightly protective older sister: I don't want to you to travel in Thailand alone.  And as a travel-lustful person: I don't want you to travel in Thailand without me!  So we're spending a month in Thailand together.  And since she'll be in India, I also booked the 3 weeks before the month to check out New Delhi, Agra, Jaipur, and Mumbai.

As we were buying tickets back from Spain to Chicago, it was evident that having a layover in Ireland was cheaper than coming directly back to the U.S.  ...So this turned into a 10 day trip that includes my sister's friend meeting us there.

The end.  Or should I say...The beginning.