We'reeeee Baaaaaaaack...

I know it's been awhile, a long while...and we have our reasons. My reason was that Julie was supposed to write the next entry and Julie's reason was that I was supposed to write the next entry. Some words were spoken, there were a few tense moments, then a long stalemate...and in the end, as usual, I've lost.

Wow, what have we been up to since September 15th? Shortly after our last entry, the Turners traveled to Seoul, South Korea (not Seoul, Idaho). Julie was there on business and I tagged along with the brood as "Mr. Mom." It was a great opportunity to introduce our "halfies" to their mother's birthplace...we toured Seoul, visited a few palaces, shopped until we ran out of Won and ate until we ran out of belly. The kids, like their mother, have an affinity for Korean street food...the sweets and the spicy rice cakes. Hell, who am I kidding, I could eat the stuff all day, too. We were able to visit the orphanage from which Julie was adopted...the kids were able to see where Julie spent her very early days. We met with a representative of the orphanage, reviewed Julie's old file...it was really neat to think of all the possibilities, how many different ways Julie's life could have gone and yet there we were, Julie with three children of her own. It was a great trip back...the kids are anxious to return, something we may get to do again in February.

Let's see...when we returned from Seoul it was the usual...work, school, life, dust, some heat and the ever-present smell of Delhi. We endured that for just a couple weeks before setting out on a true vacation. The Turners flew to Barcelona (great city) and then shipped out for a 7-day western Mediterranean cruise. Our first cruise and it was SUH-WEEEEEEEEEET! We visited Malta, Naples, Rome, Florence and Cannes....well, that's where our ship went anyways. We only spent about an hour in Naples...most of that day was spent touring the ruins at Pompei (incredible), eating Neopolitan pizza and shopping along the promenade in Sorrento (amazing). We optioned out of the long trip into Rome from the port...it was a chilly, rainy day in Italy, so we remained aboard. The next day, however, we rented a kick-ass Peugeot (seriously, it was awesome) and drove through the Tuscan countryside (I want to buy a vineyard and a villa). We visited the city and commune of Lucca, with its beautiful Renaissance architecture...that bored the kids silly. It was raining (again), so we hopped back into the car and drove to Pisa...Eli was very excited about this site, after all the Little Einsteins had been to Pisa. The leaning tower was, in fact, leaning...we tried to take a picture of Julie holding it up, but so was every other tourist and we just didn't have the time. We ate pizza...again and it was amazing...again. Gelato and pizza...when we were in Italy, that's what we ate...because when you're in Italy that's what you should eat and you should eat plenty of it. Gelato followed, and occasionally preceded, most meals. D-A-M-N good...divine even. We wrapped up the cruise in Cannes, France...which was fancy and the French weren't nearly as rude as I expected. Honestly, we found the Italians less hospitable...of course, the Italians still get points for not surrendering to every little puff of wind that comes along. The vacation was fantastic...it wasn't long enough, but they never are. We're convinced however and cruises will now be added to the Turner family vacation repertoire.

We've been back in Delhi for some time now...work, school, dust, but thankfully no more heat. It's cooling off for "winter." Not exactly the winters I'm accustomed to nor the winter I'd prefer, but this is India and this is what we get. Of course, now that it's cooled off, people are burning dung to stay warm at night, so we wake most mornings to a fog of stench...that one unfortunately gets used to. Julie and I donned formal attire not long ago for the 2009 Marine Corps Ball...I had a tuxedo made and Julie a formal dress. Julie looked beautiful...I was merely presentable. I felt like James Bond...didn't quite look like him.

Alise is walking now...nearly running, at times. She's developing a personality all of her own...very similar to Eli and Olivia, but then also very different. She's constantly smiling (except when she's not) and her giggle is infectious. Eli is the epitomal 3-year-old boy...he's energy and imagination incarnate. He's getting so big...thinning out and growing up. He's writing his own name and counting as high as he feels like counting. Olivia is reading like a champ and churning out mathematical computations as if she were pre-disposed to do so (oh, wait). She recently finished yet another season of ballet and has wowed me with her beauty and her abilities.

We're ready for Christmas...our tree is up, our Christmas songs are downloaded from iTunes and Julie is treating everyone to a new batch of delicacies thrice a week. We miss our families and friends dearly and wish that we could spend the season stateside, with the chill in the air, the snow falling and a warming fire. I won't lie...I probably won't post again until after the new year, so...Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!! We love and miss you all!!

Delhi...OUT!!!

Kingfisher, the King of Beers and Airlines...

In the past three weeks, I have flown on too many prop airplanes into too many Himalayan valleys to truly be comfortable... I was told the pilots were among an elite group of pilots specially trained to land small aircraft along too-short runways while battling unpredictable and ever-fluctuating environmental conditions. This is "half-full/half-empty" information...while some might hear "there's a damn fine pilot flying this plane," others might hear "if your 'elite' pilot has a bad day, your screwed." And the airline running these "once-a-day" flights? Kingfisher...the same company that brews and bottles India's premier beer, also Kingfisher. Did I mention they were prop planes?

A few weeks back I assisted an ongoing investigation into the disappearance of a missing American in the famed "Valley of Shadows"...Parvati Valley, in the state of Himachal Pradesh. The valley was pristine, the air was clean...the area could very easily be mistaken for any other mountainous region in the world. It was beautiful...and apparently very dangerous. The route the missing American trekked (supposedly) was treacherous at best... I had never pushed myself as hard as I did hiking those foothills...nine hours of trekking, two and a half of that uphill and the last two hours downhill. After all of the uphill, you might think the downhill was sweet relief...and you'd be wrong. Unfortunately the missing American has yet to be located...

Shortly after returning from the valley, I pushed off for a couple of days training in Bangkok... While I was tired of being away from home, it was two solid days of Burger King and Starbucks...seriously, every meal, Burger King...and Starbucks. It was nice being in the "First World" again, but difficult to truly enjoy without Julie and the kids. One can only see so many Buddhas solo before finally wandering back to a lonely hotel room to watch HBO (B-movies of the 90's are the forte of programmers in Southeast Asia).

After Bangkok, I was back in Delhi for a whole week before again flying north to Himachal Pradesh on assignment. Kingfisher, the King of Beers...err, Airlines. I flew into Kangra Valley this time... (An aside: A couple of years back Olivia asked what it was that I did...I tried to explain in terms that she might understand, so I said "Daddy takes old people to meet with other old people so that they can talk about old people stuff." To this day, Olivia still asks before I leave on a trip..."Daddy, are you going to take an old person to meet with another old person so that they can talk about old person stuff?") Well...before Kangra Valley she asked me that same question and I answered "Yes." I traveled to Kangra Valley to help some people look after some other people so that those people could meet with an old and very wise and very frickin' cool person...it was all-in-all very awesome.

Throughout all of this travel, Julie, my incredible wife, was holding down the Turner Family Fort in Delhi...she was ushering Olivia and Eli to and from school, Olivia to and from ballet, Eli and Olivia to and from play-dates and was carrying Alise most of the time. I cannot thank Julie enough for her support and patience...this next week however I will return the favor. Julie will travel to Seoul for work and we will join her....the kids will see the land from which their mother was wrought and I will be their tour guide. I will be Mr. Mom and I can't wait...late mornings (0830 hours or later, fingers crossed), hotel pool, Lotte World, the zoo, Starbucks, Dunkin' Donuts...and you know what, I'm pretty sure we can get hamburgers in Seoul. It's going to be pretty sweet... Even better, actual travel lanes...drivers will stay in their lanes. Oh, and trash receptacles, that people use to throw trash in...and the complete and total absence of public urination. And, again...hamburgers.

All is well here in New Delhi...the kids are enjoying school, making friends...Olivia was recently complimented by Fernando himself, the owner of Fernando Ballet Company...Olivia has "mad skillz." Eli is learning how to swim and has his alphabet down-pat. Alise has four teeth now, she giggles uncontrollably at the slightest provocation and babbles incessantly...it's all so beautiful. Julie is training for the New Delhi Half-Marathon, baking legendary cakes and breakfast dishes, mothering and working...so yes, if you're wondering, she's still incredible and makes far too many things look much too easy.

If you're looking for gift ideas for The Turners...Mr. Clean Magic Erasers...seriously.

Delhi...OUT!!!

A TOAST!

Today, Saturday, August 22nd, 2009, our dear friends Liz and Chris will be wed in holy matrimony.

A toast to the happy couple and a wish that their days and years be filled with joy, absent of tears and that they find in each other exactly what they need.

Even if you don't know Liz and Chris, raise a glass today in their honor...they deserve it.

We're 10.5 hours ahead, so I can say the future looks bright for them.


Delhi...OUT!!!

The Things that Make you Go "Hmmmm...?"

In preparation for the 2010 Goodwill Games, hosted by India and held in Delhi, the government has begun an expansive beautification and un-F-ification of New Delhi project, which includes:

• The addition and construction of roadways, overpasses and cloverleafs (pedestrians, bicycles, tuck-tucks, hand-bikes and wheelbarrows will still be permitted to run tandem to fast-moving cars, trucks and decorated dump trucks)
• The beautification of city streets and medians (to include the addition of shrubbery, the removal of standing pools of "stink-water" that attract malaria-laden mosquitoes, and the insistence that citizens quit being run over by large buses b/c carcasses always stain and carcass removal is very expensive)
• the addition of street signs (b/c up until now, Delhi's citizens were required to arrive at any destination only after hours of trial and error)

Julie and I, after seconds of discussion, also propose the following "improvements" before the Goodwill Games commence:

• All citizens must refrain from urinating and defecating on the roadside of major thoroughfares and travel ways (side streets and alleyways will now be used for this purpose, or at least more so) (this law applies to males and females equally, if only to avoid a charge of sexism)
• All citizens must refrain from exposing their "junk" on the roadside of major thoroughfares and travel ways (while this problem will likely be addressed with the elimination of urination and defecation (see above), we think it important to address it separately - we'd hate to think a citizen were able to find a loophole when it comes to something like this)
• Perhaps finally (at least for now), we suggest that police officers quit holding hands (while male-male hand-holding is nothing unusual in India - and we're certainly not judging - we just think that two grown men, sworn to uphold the law and protect the citizenry, should carry themselves with a certain amount of gravitas and professionalism...they can hold hands all they like "off the clock")

Delhi...OUT!!!

Same, Same...

A real buzz-kill for any "blogger" is routine. Life here is now as life was in D.C...usual. This is nice, but it doesn't make for an interesting blog, does it? Rhetorical, but in case you actually didn't know the answer...it's NO. It does not make for an interesting blog.

I suppose though, just as you'll never step twice into the same river (thanks, Heraclitus), even the usual life is never truly the same as it was a moment before. We've been busy...I, with work and more work and official visits and looking cool, and Julie/the kids with a recent trip back to the U.S.of.A.

India is now, for all intents and purposes, home. This fact is only occasionally depressing. We do enjoy India, except when we don't. It was the same in D.C., though, and I imagine it's the same for everyone, everywhere (except for John Henderson in Cleveland, Ohio...I hear he just loves it, all the time!) We're settled and comfortable (except when we're not - 120 Degrees, 120 % Humidity... this combination may actually only be possible here in Delhi). We've stumbled across routine...have identified our favorite restaurants, have identified which restaurants we'll never go to again (having once been a 'favorite'), have identified, for the most part, what activities to do when based on the kids' moods, our moods, the traffic, the heat and the typical small aggravations that come with doing most anything here in Delhi.

We're planning a vacation for October...a secretive, awesome vacation somewhere secretive and awesome. Frankly, I need to get out of Delhi. In the meantime, we'll try to hop down to Agra, snap a picture in front of the Taj Mahal...check that box. Word is, that's what the Taj visit is, a photo op, nothing more. A very important photo op, however, so we'll make the journey and strike a pose in front of one of the seven wonders of the world (assuming they haven't revised the list...replaced the Taj with something a tad more "wondrous"...after all, the Taj is just one really big coffin). Anywho, when the trip is said and done, we'll be sure to post pictures.

Olivia and Eli are back to school and they're both very excited. Olivia has started 1st grade. 1st...fricking...grade. She's losing teeth left and right (and not b/c of Eli). She's growing and learning and everyday she's more beautiful (takes after Julie, thankfully...or not, we'll see when she's in high school). Eli is, essentially, The Man. Not the oppressive "Man," mind you, but THE Man. He's developing quite the personality, has been for some time...so maybe it's better said he's honing it to a fine point.

Alise has sprouted two full-on, honest-to-goodness, bottom teeth, and one tooth has popped along the top. She crawls around the house drooling, like a miniature Saint Bernard. She's pretty quick now and knows just where to go, just what to do, to scare us shitless, when an opportunity presents itself. Like her siblings, Alise too is a mischievous sprite...we're pretty certain she knows exactly what she's doing and will often flash us a wicked grin as we bound toward her, yelling "Alise, get down...Alise, get that out of your mouth...Alise, please quit trying to re-wire that socket." She can stand now, balance all by herself...but she's not walking. She'll stand for a moment and then return to a kimchee squat, a genetic gift.

Proud Parent diatribe has concluded.

Well...completely unsatisfied, huh? Like you just ate Tofu? Waiting all this time for an update and this is what I write? Really? Really?!?!

Yep. Afraid so.

Delhi...OUT!!!

-- Place Julie's Blog Here --

Why has there been a delay in reporting, you ask? Why have our fans had to wait so long? well, let me tell you...

So, I says to Julie..."Julie," I says, "the people want to hear from you, they want your perspective, they want your thoughts, your words, your wisdom"...so she said. . . ."Sure, Owen, I'll get right on that between getting the kids ready for summer school, entertaining Alise, picking the kids up from summer school, feeding them lunch, working, getting dinner ready, feeding the family dinner, cleaning up after dinner, getting the kids bathed, putting the kids to bed, doing four more hours of really stupid work because my boss sucks. . . sure, I'll get right on that blog entry." So then I says, "Blah, blah, blah...write, woman, write!!!!"

So, here I am writing the most recent blog entry, the long-awaited blog entry, the newest from Tales Turner. We've been living life, nothing spectacular to report, nothing earth-shattering.

I was in Chennai for work in early June...it was like Delhi, only farther south and a touch quieter. Chennai, formerly known as Madras, is on the southeast coast of India, on the Bay of Bengal, and is known for its stretch of beach...the world's longest. In addition to being the world's longest, it is also the world's dirtiest and the most depressing. Al Gore and Leo DiCaprio, upon seeing this beach, would throw their respective hands to the air in exasperation and concede defeat with "To Hell with it all!" They would then drive off in a Hummer, spraying Hair Net out the window, on their way to a Baby Seal Clubbing event. So, no, I didn't spend much time at the beach. Meanwhile, back at the Bat Cave, Julie carted Olivia and Eli off to summer school every morning, giving herself three hours of quiet everyday. It's never fun spending time apart, so I was thankful to get home after three weeks.

Olivia and Eli have continued their summer school...Olivia has become quite the swimmer and is becoming a math-whiz, like her mom. Alise is speed-crawling and starting to cruise...she's also sporting two new teeth. Eli's artwork is worthy of accolades and he recently shaved his head like daddy...for an entirely different reason, though...he isn't balding (yet). It's just sooooo damn hot here...122 Degrees this weekend, in the shade. I wish I were exaggerating. Needless to say, Julie and the kids are looking forward to their trip back to the States this next week, looking forward to the 90-Degree heat....sweet relief.

All is well here in Delhi. Julie and I had a fancy Kashmiri dinner last night with some fancy people. It also came with a fancy price tag. It was an experience though, and experiences are worth it. The kids, though really looking forward to seeing Grammie/Poppy & Grandma/Grandpa, are settled in well here. They have their favorite things to do, they know the routes to all the malls, to all the markets and they're still amazed by the numerous wandering Brahma Bulls and Marauding Monkeys.

No recent travel outside of Delhi (not counting the day-trip to Sohna where we visited some friends at a Resort & Spa - by some stroke of luck they'd received an upgrade to the Presidential Suite, complete with it's own pool. It was SICK (which the hip kids tell me means "Rad.")).

So, anywho...not much left to update. We're presently mourning the loss of Michael Jackson or at least the Michael Jackson we remember from the 80s and early 90s, before he went really batshit. I remember roller skating at Skate Town to Thriller and Bad...I remember watching his videos on MTV. I also remember listening to the Jackson Five classics on the radio...I suppose most people have the same or similar memories. Shame his talent was overshadowed by the life that became a freakshow-roadshow. R.I.P. Michael Jackson. I know celebrities usually go in 3's...I'm really hoping Swayze toughs it out as long as possible. I'm not sure the 80s/90s can take another hit. Sure, there's The Outsiders, Red Dawn, Ghost....classics. What about Roadhouse, Next of Kin and Black Dog?!? Okay, not Black Dog or the one where he dressed in drag...but definitely Roadhouse and Next of Kin...remember Liam Neeson in Next of Kin? Awesome!

Anywho... I apologize if we've been kinda quiet...and I apologize in advance if nothing new comes for a bit after this. With Julie and the kids in the States, the next blog might read, "Woke. Worked. Worked-out. Wept. Went to bed." Repeat. Don't pity me though...don't. At least I'll have this ratty street dog to look after while they're away...ughhh.

Delhi...OUT!!!!

Prima Donna

Someday, perhaps someday, our Olivia will be dancing at the Met...or its equivalent in Paris, London or Moscow (I'm new to the world of Ballet). Last night was maybe the first of many nights...we fought Olivia into her tu-tu (performance anxiety), Olivia's hair was done, we gussied ourselves up, I fetched the post-recital flowers and we were off to the Ballet!
Julie had to drag Olivia into the auditorium kicking and screaming (I was the "driver"). Once inside, Julie and Olivia bumped into Eva and Carolina, our friends from Rishikesh. Olivia looks up to Carolina, and so together with Carolina, and the application of mass amounts of make-up, Olivia struck up the courage to dance across the stage.

We filmed the recital, so if we can figure it we'll post some footage here. Olivia was brilliant, and that's just not a father's exaggeration. Her teacher and on-lookers have said "Olivia is frickin' amazing and will someday be THE Prima Ballerina!" (In so many words) Seriously, she was awesome and she danced with the biggest smile on her face. Olivia danced so well that Eli actually sat still to watch his big sister...that says quite alot. Eli is 3 years-old...he sits still for no one! I told Julie that, so long as Olivia wants to continue with ballet, then she'll have the "funding" to do so. Translation: I may be asking for sizeable loans from friends/family in the near future (kidding).

You can check out her ballet troupe here: http://www.ifbc.org.in/

Delhi...OUT!!!

Those aren't birds...those are giant bats.

I've said it before and I'll likely say it at least a few more times...

...India...is...awesome.

On Janpath, between the Claridge Hotel circle and Akbar Road, you'll find large trees bearing fruit lining the roadway. Amidst the hundreds of branches you'll see thousands of bats hanging upside down, clinging to those branches with their feet. There are thousands and by June thousands more or so we're told. The bats flock to Delhi in the warmer months, specifically this stretch of Janpath. We've stopped along the road and we've watched these bats...these rather large brown bats, swoop from tree to tree. Amazing. One of the best parts...the acrid smell of guano is nearly indetectable over the "usual" scent of Delhi.

In the immortal words of Indiana Jones..."Those aren't birds - those are giant bats." Awesome, Indiana...awesome.

Delhi...OUT!!!!

Chooooooooo, Choooooooooooooooooooooo!!

The Turners took the early-morning train to Rishikesh this past weekend...the birthplace of yoga and home to the Beatles' ashram in the foothills of the Himalayas. Rishikesh is about 250 kilometers north of Delhi. I'm still not firm on the metric system, but I think that's just shy of one thousand miles...The train was 1st-class all the way, but only in the sense that we booked a 1st class ticket and the ticket read first class. I mean, plenty of leg room and no short supply of "Rail Neer" Bottled Water (which was always suspiciously filled to the brim), but warm eye compresses, personal masseusses and fully-reclining seats it was not (not that I've ever enjoyed any of those luxuries, but one might expect that in "1st Class"). Whilst on the train, I peeked out a window and witnessed a red monkey riding a dog. India....is.....awesome.

Once we arrived in Haridwar (the nearest train station to Rishikesh), we hopped in the guest house-reserved vehicles for the 60-minute car ride to Rishikesh. Only one of the vehicle's ACs was working (close to 90 Degrees out), so we piled (safely) all of the kids (except Eli, 'cause he's tough!) into one vehicle and drove into the mountains. Even while perilously balanced on a cliffside roadway, without barriers, evidencing a recent landslide, the driver operated the vehicle like he was on the streets of Delhi. If Benny Franklin is correct and experience does in fact keep a dear school and fools will learn in no other....well, then, too many (not all, relax) Indians spend a ton of time in school. It's a trial and error culture..."Whoops, okay, looks like I wasn't fast enough to beat that bus." Needless to say, we parents requested the drivers save their experimentation for when they were driving solo...

We journeyed with an Israeli family and a Spanish-Colombo-German family to a small guest house on the banks of the Ganges river. The guest house was secluded, allowing all of the kids to run free, like a pack of feral dogs. We were surrounded by Languor monkeys and packs of red monkeys. The Languor monkeys (large, silver-haired, black-faced monkeys) would move into the area first, mess around for a day or so and generally just enjoy themselves. The red monkeys, even here in Delhi, are deathly afraid of the Languor monkeys (as many would be), so we never saw the two species sharing a cup of tea (unusual in India). The Languor monkeys eventually moved along. Soon after, as if signaled by a scout, the red monkeys moved into the area...a herd of red monkeys (what is a pack of monkeys called? gaggle, murder, posse?), all sizes and ages (to include babies - How frickin' precious were they?), began to play and generally wreak havoc. The monkeys would test their boundaries, and a few came right up to the guest house (pictures to come). Amazing, really...our little cousins (fossil record!). Also frequently visiting the guest house were cows...yes, a HERD of cows. We actually saw our first "traditional" looking cow...a white cow with black spots. Awesome. The first one of its kind we've seen in India. It must have been especially revered.

There was no "to-do" list, no "to-see" list...the weekend was designed for quiet reflection, relaxation and meditation. Or as much of that as was possible with eight "feral" kids running around (okay, six...two were infants...but they looked feral). We napped and we ate (but not much - the owner of the guest house, a friendly British chap, gave up all "material possessions," to include his taste buds, and rarely offered his guests anything other than vegetarian "cuisine." I mean, what about a little barbequed red monkey, Stevie? I can tell you, they're not endangered -- pigeons of the monkey family, they were). We often found ourselves at the banks of the Ganges, lounging in the rocky, riverside pools and waterfalls. The water was clean and cold, which felt great in the midday heat. We were far enough north that the Ganges was actually very clean...or cleaner. No bloated, floating corpses...no feces (or at least well-dissolved feces)...and a steady current carrying the occasional drowned white-water-rafter quickly downriver (I said no "bloated" corpses...the rafters were fresh). Just down the hill from the guest house, near the basking pools, there was a "jumpin' rock"...just like American jumpin' rocks. The idea was that one would climb to the top of this big ole rock (which always looked deceptively lower from the bottom) and then, once atop the rock, one would fling themself into the cold, deep river below. It sounded like such a good idea that I jumped seven whole times...Julie took second with three jumps, and the other adults rounded it out with single jumps each (ranked on style points). While one "jumper" called it a "religious experience," Julie just called it "jumping from a rock into a river." I fell in the middle...it was a rock and it was a river, but it was a big rock and it was a cold river. The river, also, was the Ganges...the frickin' Ganges, y'all!! I mean, some pretty cool stuff has happened in and along the Ganges (I am not referring to the frequent defecation of millions of Indians). So, yes, to me jumping from a big rock into a very cold Ganges, while not necessarily allowing me to hear the voice of God or the voices of gods or showing me the way to center, was a pretty awesome experience. On my sixth jump, I allowed myself to drift downriver until I reached a steep, sandy bank. Once there, I filled a plastic water bottle with all of the blessed Ganges sand it could carry. Again, awesomeness.

The kids had an absolute blast, actually asking if we could "live there." How many times did I say that about some wicked awesome vacation spot growing up? I wanted to live and/or work at every place we went...I still might retire to Disney World. So, it was cute to hear it from my kids' lips. Olivia and Eli both made some new friends and I managed not to jeopardize the new alliances by saying something stupid (See Phuket blog entry). It was a short trip, but a special one. While nearly impossible to "find center" (let's be honest) with the kids about, there was a certain degree of zen achieved merely by "existing" for a weekend...just being, together, separate...separate but together, enjoying each other's company and one's own company. It was refreshing to wake up and not have to move, not have to plan...it was nice for all of us just to wake up, roll out of bed, stumble down to the "cafe" and welcome the new day, red monkeys, mooing cows and all.

Delhi...OUT!!!

Winter Wonderland

Sometimes, when you're driving through the streets of Delhi, and you turn the AC way, way up...you can almost pretend that the dirt drifts being blown across the surface of the road are actually snow drifts...it also helps if you play Christmas songs while driving...

But then, when you step out of the car, you're hit with 110 degree heat and that winter fantasy withers and dies...Olivia actually said she'd like to stay overseas after India, but we have to go someplace where there's snow, where Santas lives (Finland, according to a commercial on our local TV)...

Delhi...OUT!!!

Phuket is to Paradise as Delhi is to Whatever the Opposite of Paradise Is...

Ahhhh...Phuket
Now, our celebrity faithful may
find Phuket a tad pedestrian, but for the Turners, Phuket was paradise. Crystal clear waters...water the color God intended - greens, blues, purples, all in various shades. The sand...the sand was like silk, grainy silk. Our stretch of beach was quiet and peaceful, with only the occasional European disrupting our zen by attempting to stretch inches of fabric over several miles of body.
And the beaches were clean...free of trash and medical waste...absent were the fears that one might contract a rare contagion while swimming. Phuket was a reminder that there are still parts of the planet people care about and those places make you want to put more effort into caring. In Delhi, by stark contrast, one might think littering a national pasttime.

We basked and baked (Well, I did, the first day...always on the first day because I'm always so eager!). We lounged and drank from coconuts, sweet, sweet coconuts ("You put 'da lime in 'da co-co-nut.."). We built sand castles...er, mounds, and molded sea turtles and seahorses, which half-naked Europeans clumsily stumbled over, apparently finding it difficult to see over their baguette-bellies or strudel-stomachs or tiramisu tummies. We re-re-introduced the kids to the ocean. A few more trips oughta do it...our kids, maybe all kids, have an innate fear of waves. I suppose I can understand why, especially after explaining the "Beware of Tsunami" signs posted throughout Karon and Patong beaches. Our beach time was a reprieve, an opportunity to find center and a reminder that one is never too old to chafe.
We didn't spend all of our time at the beach, of course. After all, we were in Thailand. We ventured out, took in the sights, enjoyed a safari and ate as much Pad Thai as we could bare. The big, white marble Buddha you see above was appropriately named "Big Buddha." Atop the mountain sat Buddha and at his feet was a Buddhist temple and visiting the temple were more scantily-clad Europeans (that seemed a theme). I'm certainly no prude...I mean trust me, I'm not. But really? Really?!? Buddha may not be your (lookin' at you, Europeans!) religious icon, but show him a little respect! Put some clothes on!

At the base of the same mountain was the Siam Safari. This was a great opportunity for us to ride carts pulled by water buffalo, watch "Workin'-monkeys" ply their trade (which was to climb palm trees and collect coconuts...perverts), ride elephants through the rain forest, watch elephants play soccer, watch elephants paint and dance to trance music (but not at the same time), watch elephants solve for 'x' (kidding), watch humans cook Thai cuisine with fresh, picked-from-the-forest ingredients, watch more humans split and "harvest" coconuts, and watch different humans tap rubber trees for...well, rubber. Olivia commented "They make alot of rubbers in Thailand..." Yes, they sure do...and use even more.

Our safari concluded with an incredible lunch-cruise into the bay on an authentic junk. Though spelled like "junk," the boat was far from it, and the food was fantastic. We motored past small, densely forested islets, houseboats lashed together and drifting on the tides and watched as the day's storm rolled in from the ocean (it stormed once a day and the storms were amazing and beautiful).

Speaking of storms...I nearly bore the wrath of Tropical Storm Julie (pictured to the right)...I was trying to snap a picture of my demure, soft-spoken wife, but she had to yell at me for leaving the kids at the stern (some Brits were lookin' after em', geez). Speaking of those Brits...the ride back to the safari's "base" became momentarily awkard after Julie walked me right into commenting on the Brits' former imperialistic tendencies. Unfortunately, I was speaking rather loudly (as Turners tend to do), and all but sabotaged a free trip to jolly ole England, as Olivia and Beatrice (just guessing at the little girl's name) were making quick friends. Dammit!

Alise enjoyed her first post-womb vacation. Like her parents, unlike her siblings, she really took to the ocean (technically the Sea...Arghhh, I prefers me the sea, I do!). Alise is pictured here (to the right) fresh from a bath, looking pensive...wondering why her daddy is such a jackass. That's what Julie told me she was thinking...who am I to argue?

Our hotel (resort, actually...La-tee-daa!) was amazing...the food, the pools (which the kids considered the better water-play option), the spa and the room (free upgrade!) - all of it was incredible.

One of the best things about life in Delhi is the access it provides to places like Phuket...journeys to paradise or the closest thing to a paradise I've ever experienced. In the end, one thing I've realized...while the developed world has many, many (add as many "manys" as you feel appropriate) faults, Starbucks and hamburgers are the occasional "must-have." Thailand was two for two. Delhi's batting zero.

Alas, as I can't in good conscience speak ill of my new "home," Delhi is also a wonder...like, I wonder why so many people walk into traffic and urinate on the side of the road and lie and I wonder why it's so damn hot here and so on...but also, I wonder how so many Indians can be so quick to smile and so sincerely gracious. Delhi is a city of contradictions...I think I've said that before. It is equally and simultaneously frustrating and exhilirating...Delhi kicks you in the nuts and then brings you ice.

Allow me to get to my point (about time?)...places like Phuket facilitate finding center, enable one to quickly find peace. Delhi makes you work for it, makes you search for it...for instance, today we spent our time at the market and the nursery and finally at the pool. The kids were occasionally unbearable (100 degree heat will do that), but as I walked holding Eli's hand and Olivia's hand, with Julie and Alise at my side...I found center...lost it...found it...lost it again...and then, just as the kids drifted off to sleep, found it again. It might have been easier to track down serenity in Phuket, but sometimes the effort required in Delhi makes the moment that much sweeter. Then again, I'm a jackass...what do I know?

Delhi...OUT!!!

Stand-by to Stand-by...

That's not a lyric...at least i don't think it is...not one that i've heard, anyhow...

The Turners are alive and well...we returned this past weekend from Phuket, Thailand...a little vacation. It was amazing and we'll be sure to provide an entry and some pictures shortly. We were having some internet connectivity issues prior to vacation and they've unfortunately persisted. We hope to have things up and running real proper-like, soon.

You see, when you call Verizon or whichever conglomerate you choose for internet service...and you report a problem, you'll probably end up speaking with Sanju (only he'll say his name is Ronald or Patrick) over the phone, who's sitting at a cubicle here in India. Well, Sanju can fix your problem from an ocean away. MTNL, however...our internet provider, they send a guy out to "fix" our internet...let's just say that this guy couldn't be trusted to tie Sanju's shoes...he looks at some wires, the "antique" router that they provide all new customers, walks outside, maybe onto the roof and eventually returns, babbles something about the wind or not having the right pants to do the job, and then leaves. MTNL then closes the "ticket"...problem solved. Awesome.

So, stand-by to stand-by...as they frown upon "blogging" at work, we promise to get something up once MTNL sends over Sanju.

Delhi...OUT!!!

"A man walks down the street, it's a street in a strange world, maybe it's the third world, maybe it's his first time around...

...He doesn't speak the language, He holds no currency, He is a foreign man, He is surrounded by the sound, The sound, Cattle in the marketplace, Scatterlings and orphanages..."

Now, what I just did was called a "gimme"...It should be nearly impossible for even the musically illiterate to NOT know this extended lyric (alot of negatives in that sentence, huh?). I just couldn't decide which portion of the song to include because soooo much of it was applicable. As though this man (another clue) had actually been to Old Delhi.

And that's the topic of our lesson today, children...Old Delhi.

People and more people...and then even more people coming out of shops and alleyways and on rooftops and on rooftops on top of rooftops. Dark stretches of side street that branch and cut deep into the heart of Old Delhi. Corners and caves of neon...vendor after vendor plying the same trade, selling the same goods...spices, jaleebi, knock-off clothing, saris, Indian wedding attire, silver, trinkets, antiques and all manner of useful or useless crap.

Every step along the main street, Chandni Chowk, must be measured and placed deftly or you'll find your feet covered in nameless liquids and liquids with names you wish you didn't know. Chandni Chowk is one wide sidewalk...pedestrians, cattle, tuck-tucks, rickshaws, cars and buses all share this famous stretch of Old Delhi. From Chandni Chowk you can veer off onto a side street and then cut down seemingly infinite alleyways lined with shops and guest houses and mosques. We found ourselves, kids and all, dodging rickshaws and workmen laden with loads of clothing along the alleyways...smoke and stench and incense. Noise, noise and more noise...people screaming, horns blaring from the motorcycles and scooties speeding at you from behind, vendors hawking their wares..."Buy an Indian helicopter?!?!" which is followed by a demonstration of a toy helicopter, an Indian helicopter, that lifts gracefully, spins and plummets to its doom.

Vertigo sets in when you look skyward while cutting through the alleyways. Telephone wire, electrical wire, wire and clotheslines strung among the buildings. The buildings rise only four or five stories, but when you're on street level, among the teeming and pulsing crowd, the buildings may as well be skyscrapers. Each turn and every bend looks the same. Direction is complicated. It seems like all roads double-back on themselves... everything repeats as though Delhi-6 is a person with an unfortunate stutter.

Of course nothing was the same though, nothing. So many people, individuals, waking in Old Delhi to make their day. Each shop a separate ledger. Old Delhi requires focus and full attention. Old Delhi requires you to filter out what you don't immediately need...the senses that aren't asked to provide input are put away.

The kids found themselves dodging hand after hand outstretched to pinch their tiny cheeks. Eli began to defend himself, smacking down the fast-approaching pincers. We walked with the kids marching between us, their hands in ours. Alise was snuggled against Julie, coiled deep into the sling. Old Delhi is a sensory ambush. Old Delhi comes at you from all angles and it comes with everything. It "Brings It!" It is exciting and unfamiliar. It is tense and exhilarating. Old Delhi has a rhythm that even the whitest of white men (read: me) can find and dance to.

More importantly, Old Delhi is home to the Ghantewala, the oldest sweet shop in Delhi..over two hundred years old. We stopped and sampled the delicacies...delicious. Salted cashews and burfees and sohan halwa (which Julie devoured). The story goes...'Ghanta' in Hindi means huge bell. Well, when the emperor's procession would wander down Chandni Chowk, the emperor would stop for the sweets at this particular shop. The emperor's elephant, too, would be fed. The elephant developed a sweet-tooth, and so, procession or not, the elephant would stop in front of the shop and shake its massive, decorated, bell-laden head until it was offered a treat. Once satisfied, the elephant would move along.

That's Old Delhi, but none of these words do it justice. It is a beautifully ugly dog. It is life, brutal and vibrant. Next time, Julie and I will venture there without the kids...it's just too crowded. We didn't take the camera this time because we could only defend so much...next time, though, next time. You'll see...oh, you'll see.

Delhi...OUT!!!!

"Leave me nothing I don't need at all..."

Have I (read: I) had an "Alanis" moment (...Thank you, India...)?

Nope.

Have I realized the extent of my (read: our) wastefulness? The degree of extravagancy?

Indeed.

It's hard not to. Every weekend in Rockville...neigh, multiple times a week, we found ourselves at Target. We could stroll the aisles for hours and we did. We purchased. We consumed. We loved it...who am I kidding? We miss it.

BUT.

Here, in Delhi, we're without that luxury...and believe me when I say this, it is a huge luxury. You know something? Half of half of what we bought we never needed because here we've realized we aren't missing it. The "stuff," the clutter, the things...ash and dust. Memories of the "western" life. Looking around though...at folks, at children who have nothing...and I mean nothing, barely life to cling to...it is all just stuff.

Even here we find ways to add to our collection of things, as though we'll have it buried beside us in our great tombs. We're consuming half as much here and still there is leftover. Old habits die hard...and some won't die because we won't let them. Ugly truth.

Just thoughts and observations though, nothing more. It's really just eye-opening...to be presented with SO much reality and to realize the extent to which we've been part of so many problems.

Good luck with that song lyric, by the way. If you Google it, then you're cheating. If you know it outright, then you're cool as Hell.

Delhi...OUT!!!

"This could be Heaven or this could be Hell..."

Having a very Bohemian Sunday here in Delhi...cruising, frozen yogurt, a little skateboarding and football (soccer, but when in Rome) and Regina Spektor playing onto our veranda (patio, but when in Rome).

I've (read: we've) decided to run a series of entries that directly reference lyrics from popular songs. It will be the task of our readers to respond with the lyric's origin. Get it right and....well, good on you. Get it wrong and you'll lose our respect forever. This is our first and how absolutely appropriate...this place could be Heaven or it could be Hell. Like any other city or moment or situation (think about it), Delhi really could be Heaven or it really could be Hell, depending on the day, our mood, the kid's moods, the weather, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. The difference here in Delhi is that the city nearly has a will of its own...and from moment to moment offers evidence of its nature, good and/or bad.
Delhi offers so much and then takes so much from you. It is cosmopolitan in one breath and a Sally Struthers commercial begging to "Save the Children" in its next breath. Julie read about a frozen yogurt joint in Defence Colony (*remind me to relate a funny about "Defence") called Cocoberry (similar to that new joint in Georgetown), so we ventured to check it out. It was tucked away in a market, hiding among buildings that have seen better days (or maybe not). Parking was a feat of patience and chance, and we were fortunate to find a spot where a self-empoyed parking attendant didn't ask for our keys (keys? sure, and here's the bomb to boot). Cocoberry outside: Purgatory. Cocoberry inside: Heaven. That's the way many of the restaurants are...to include Intermezzo, the small cafe we visited for lunch. You don't know what to expect when you walk through the doors...but we're usually pleasantly surprised (except for the bathrooms...bathrooms at most restaurants: Hell or nearly...I never knew Eli could handle inverted urination, until Delhi).

That's Delhi...Heaven, Hell or someplace in between...Purgatory. Getting anywhere is usually Hell...torturous and frustrating and exhaustingly repetitive (is that the same bull?!) We arrive and think "Crap, the magazine rated this restaurant/cafe/ice cream parlor five stars...is this the right place?" It is Purgatory...lost souls wandering about, in and out of squalid alleyways, begging in front of Benneton and "5-Star" restaurants. Step through the door and there are pearly gates, winged cherubs and harps....and glorious air-conditioning (because either Heaven is always mild or it had better be air-conditioned).

Moments in Delhi can be broken down similarly...which is why many comment that life in Delhi always runs at about 70%. Want a cookie from Mrs. Kaurs Cookies? Okay....here! Initial taste...why does this taste like dirt or sand or something that shouldn't be in my mouth? Once you get past that, the taste settles in and you're reminded of a real cookie, with chocolate and butter and sugar and the rest of the team. Cookie...70% From our last post...India Gate, a perfect example of "moments." From moment to moment....Heaven, Hell or Purgatory...nice breeze, warm sun....and then the smell of raw sewage....70%. Drifting along with my kids in a "bicycle" boat...kids laughter, couples strolling, balloons, ice cream and naked people bathing in a fountain or boatsmen ramming paid customers (Arghhh...comin' aboard!!)...70%. Heaven, followed by Hell, followed by Heaven...the tally sheet usually equals 70%.

In the end, 70% ain't bad. That's a "C." Passing grade. So Delhi isn't a Type-A personality, so what?! Delhi isn't about overachieving, it's about good enough.

Delhi...OUT!!

*During Republic Day, the area of India Gate was surrounded by a heavy fence...to keep the crowds out or in, who knows? All along the fence, the entity responsible for its erection (haha) had been painted...Ministry of Defence!! HAHAHAHA. Ministry of De-fence!! Get it?!?!

India Gate

March 1st at India Gate, a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The temperatures are supposed to rise twice this week above one hundred, but today it was pleasant, with a nice breeze and plenty of sun (always plenty of sun). India Gate, two long city blocks away from our house, is located in the heart of New Delhi, and is as close to the National Mall in D.C. as anything in Delhi gets (so far as we know). The "mall" stretches from the India Gate, a large arch (like the Arc De' Triomphe in Paris and its doppelganger in NYC) to Indian Parliament and along the way are stretches of green space, large trees, and waves of hawking vendors. Below the arch is an eternal flame...dangerous, really, considering how thick the stench of sewage can occasionally get around India Gate. Not today though, at least not much of it...the breeze saw to that...the sweet, merciful breeze.

We found a nice spot of shade near the "reflecting pool," spread a blanket, and set about repelling the hundred or so beggars, chip vendors, and balloon salesman working the area.

(You, the reader, may occasionally find our (read: my) responses to the countless beggars and the poor as being callous...you might be right, but you're also not here. Upon arriving in India I thought how could I not help, how could I not give even one rupee...well, to continue with the callousness, allow me to paint a picture. A cow... thirsty, very thirsty and very hot, finds itself standing before a river in South America...the cow thinks "Me thirsty, me hot, me wade into water...drink and cool. Awesome" (The cow is a big fan of Tarzan). The cow slinks into the water...it drinks, it cools itself in the river. Then, the cow MOOs loudly in response to a sharp pain in its hind quarter...then another, then another...soon, blood in the water, lots of blood....the cow thrashes, tries to make it to the riverbank. It's too late...the cow's legs have been eaten away from under it. The piranhas have swarmed. They have their meal. The cow now sinks below the water. The piranhas have won...Ergo, one rupee to one beggar equals a nibble to a lone piranha...callous, perhaps, sad, definitely...but true nonetheless.)

Again, a digression. The blanket spread, the kids sun-screened, trip-wires and booby traps laid, I take the kids over to the "reflecting pool" for a little boating. Numerous row boats and "bicycle" boats dot the pool...I opt for the "bicycle" boat. While that means a little extra work on my end, because Olivia and Eli can't reach the pedals, at least we don't have a man rowing our boat with the typical Indian disregard for all things safety-related (No offense to those Indian individuals who are the exception...but the "rowers" were broad-siding other boaters like they were the ramming ship in some miniature armada). We pedaled about the pool for a bit, drifted for some of it, and often fought with the rudder. I cussed in English, but I think the boat only responded to Hindi. The kids seemed to enjoy it and marveled at the kids (and one adult) that used the pool as a bath. I'm not sure how many times I had to tell Olivia to avert her eyes...three boys, naked and splashing in the "reflecting pool." That may happen at the National Mall, but if it does, I'm sure it happens at night when there isn't a soul around to complain about the naked bits.

The kids eventually tired of the boat, so we docked and returned to our blanket. I then ventured off to retrieve ice cream for the family. Three ice cream vendors later, I was successful. The first guy didn't actually sell any of the ice cream featured on his sign. The second guy, even though he'd advertised the prices of his goods, quoted me double for the ice cream I'd selected. Of course, he tried to explain why my ice cream might cost more...it was extra creamy, it was especially cold, it was manufactured most recently, and so on. All I heard was "It's because you're white." Life is tough for a white man just trying to get by here in Delhi...I tossed the bag of ice cream back to the vendor, called him a thief, and walked away. The third vendor actually sold what he advertised at the prices he advertised it, so he won. When I returned to our blanket, I found my family surrounded by young girls selling henna and pleading for money, food, anything. Again, not to sound callous (See above), but while we could spare the money and the food it just wasn't a good idea. If one of the girls receives anything, then a call goes out, like a war cry or a call to battle on an ox horn and a stampede would ensue. I finally deterred all but one of the girls, apparently the queen, and rightfully so, as she proved a tough cookie. I tried shooing her, ignoring her, pleading with her, discussing politics with her, but she just stood, waiting, calling me "Cheapest Daddy." Eventually she wandered off, perhaps finally realizing that there were easier targets or maybe just better things to do with her time.

Olivia, Eli and I kicked the soccer ball around for a bit. We snacked, enjoyed the breeze, and watched the people watch us. Life in a fish tank. People approached and asked to take pictures of the kids, which happens often, and they were refused. The kids started to tire, so we decided to call it an afternoon. We headed home.

Sometimes, I think, I paint a rather frustrating picture, and while things here can be frustrating...VERY frustrating, I describe those bits because they're often, and very obviously, the most humorous bits. India is not the U.S., and its culture is as different from ours as is the quality of Richard Dean Anderson's exemplary show MacGyver and his paycheck "Stargate: SG-1." Night and day. That's what makes India, India. It's frustrating, but it opens your eyes to so many things. So many things you might regret seeing, but you've seen nonetheless. India Gate was and is chock full of the "typical" India...which is why we'll continue to spend time there, assuming it's not 120 degrees in the shade.

Delhi....OUT!!

Word on the street is...

...some Dutch chick is reading this blog and has failed to acknowledge her presence. The Dutch are, notably, known for their voyeuristic fetishism...so I've been told by the sworn enemy of the Dutch, the Belgians. I suppose we shouldn't be surprised then...not all that much. Don't creep in the shadows, not when we can hear your clogs.

You know who you are. Put down those tulips and get to writing.

Gunfire, Car Bomb or Indian Wedding?

Ah yes...long day at work and I'm exhausted. Kids are in bed, so it's time to relax and unwind with a good book (mediocre really, but that doesn't paint the same picture). Lounging in the armchair, I feel the tension and stress of my day slowly ebb from my body.

And then...loud, I mean LOUD, bursts, repetitive and close.

Pop quiz, hot shot?!? Gunfire or Indian Wedding? Well, it was close...very close, but I haven't heard any screaming or yelling or shouts for help or shouts in general, which one might expect to hear after a shooting. The number of people in Delhi almost guarantees multiple witnesses to any event, criminal or otherwise...to the point where men won't even bother to piss behind a tree on the roadside because there's sure to be at least someone behind the same tree, so why not piss out in the open. I digress. The absence of screaming, yelling and/or shouting...probably not gunfire. Indian Wedding? Perhaps.

My nerves settle somewhat...I mean, I was pretty relaxed until all of that. I get back to my book (which is sliding from mediocre to outright crap). Thankfully, before I can read the next ridiculous plot twist, I'm interrupted by a loud BOOM...loud enough and BOOM-Y enough that objects in the house rattle.

Pop quiz, hot shot?!? Car bomb or Indian Wedding? Well, it too was close...very, very close. I'm not dead nor am I covered in anything or anyone that appears dead nor am I covered in debris, soot, portions of wall or vehicle parts, so it probably wasn't a car bomb. Nevertheless, just to be safe, I walk to the window (maybe not safe in retrospect) to make sure their wasn't a gaping hole in our perimeter wall. The last thing I would have liked to see at 9:30 p.m. on a Thursday night...other than ER (which couldn't be saved if George Clooney and "Goose" tongue-kissed for an entire episode -- not that I'd want to see that, but at least it would make interesting TV). I digress. No hole in the wall. No missing limbs. Evidence that we were not under attack. Indian Wedding? Very likely.

I pick my book up from the floor and I go to the bathroom, not because I was that frightened by the noise, I just figured if I finally relaxed again and heard another loud BOOM...well, I didn't want to take any chances. Figured clearing the ole system wasn't a bad idea. I then settle back into the armchair and find the place where I left off in my book...just after some alien-octopus-like things burst from some lady's body - I mean, does Scott Sigler have an original thought in his head...who isn't published these days? Perhaps I should send the grocery list off to Random House. Then, ever-so faintly..."Gasolina" starts to play from the street...yes, "Gasolina." The last time I heard that was at my cousin's Long Island Bar Mitzvah. From the street, drums chime in, off-beat of course...trumpets blare out-of-tune, and "Gasolina" is played repeatedly. A cacophony (yes, I just used that word) of voices, yells, cheers...of Hindi, erupts from the other side of our wall. Noise, NOISE, NOISE!!! Just noise...in celebration of a beautiful union. It nearly brought a tear to my eye...not from happy-sadness, but a mixture of annoyance and anger and frustration (if you wake up my damn kids, I swear to Ganesh!).

Pop quiz, hot shot?!? Indian Wedding? You bet. Desensitizing all of us to the very real threat of gunfire and car bombs in Delhi? Without question.

But, you know, it's all worth it when an hour and a half later Vijay and Pooja were able to call one another "Man and Wife." Of course, they could call each other that all they want...but could they hear it?

Delhi...OUT!!

ROADTRIP: Jaipur

Jaipur, the fabled Pink City! The maharaja responsible for the Pink City of Jaipur actually built it terracotta; however, wanting to impress and play host to the visiting Brits, the maharaja painted the city pink. I suppose you could chalk that up to "Live and Learn."


Jaipur is a colorful and bustling city approximately 3.5 hours southwest of New Delhi, depending on the number of truck vs. car, truck vs. ditch, truck vs. median, truck vs. itself or truck vs. camel accidents you run across along the way. We started our long weekend with a quick breakfast run at a roadside McDonald's, and then drove straight through to Jaipur.
The city of Jaipur itself isn't that old, by India standards. Older than America? Sure, but not old, old. The Old City/Pink City is teeming with tuck-tucks, monkeys, camels and roving marching bands. The Pink City is divided into bazaars or markets, each selling different wares. I can tell you, walking by the pepper vendors brought back too many vivid memories of training. The vendors have their stands just off the streets, separated from the hustle by a narrow sidewalk and a culvert which runs sewage (natural, human and otherwise) out of the city or so we presumed. The Pink City had many landmarks to visit and we (I) dragged the kids to each and everyone...the minar (kids pictured to the right posing in its internal spiral ramp/staircase & a view from the minar, below), the Wind Palace (pictured top, right), the City Palace (which we actually didn't visit because it just didn't sound that cool) and Jantar Mantar (related to the New Delhi Jantar Mantar, built by the same maharaja and in fact the grandest of all the sites - and the only one that still functions as it was designed). We met Sheik, the all-around, go-to guy while walking around Jaipur. He provided us with transportation our first day...in a large tuck-tuck. The kids first (and maybe last) tuck-tuck experience. Safe? Enhhhh. They seemed to enjoy it though. Sheik, born in Calcutta (when it was Calcutta) spoke nearly flawless English, and managed in multiple other languages. We were suspicious, certainly, but he remained our official tour guide and minded his questions. We visited a cotton dyeing/block-printing/carpet-weaving business...friends of Sheik's no doubt, but it was a neat experience. Julie is pictured to the right, walking through cotton that was dyed white and drying. We also visited an antique business, a famous one at that (so said the pictures featuring Prince Charles and Richard Gere), where I bought a hand-carved chess set. It was a family business, owned and operated for over 80 years, and managed by the son, named Lucky (that's how he pronounced it).

We then traveled (by car, this day) to the Amber Fort (actually spelled Amer Fort, but pronounced "Amber"). As we'd already had our ox-cart and camel rides the day before, we opted for a car to drive us up the mountainside. The trip up didn't take long and the kids had plenty to see, as we were dodging elephants left and right. The fort was as we'd envisioned Jaipur...where the Pink City was old, the fort was older and it's architecture and lore painted the picture that we'd held in our minds, that we believed "was India." The forts stone walkways, narrow, dimly lit corridors, and elaborate painted archways (Hello, Ganesh!!) were incredible. From one of the towers, we peeked out and saw three large elephants bearing their loads away from the fort. We eventually grew tired and wandered into a traditional Cafe, where we watered up with mochas and treated the kids to ice cream sundaes (it was Valentine's Day, afterall)...Yes, a Cafe (a barista chain throughout India) had established itself at Amber Fort...we were really okay with that. After the cafe, we watched a man play a jazz piece to two swingin' daddy'o cobras. On our way back to the hotel, we passed the Lake Palace, a palace built to house royalty in the excruciatingly warm summer months. An entire level of the palace is built below the surface of the water, so that the water can act to cool the walls and those inside.

We drove back to Delhi the next morning. National Highway 8 is little more than a four-lane divided roadway...accidents weren't the problem on the way home...instead, we fought to pass a northern migration of sorts. Jeep after jeep, carrying more men than is lawful, traveled northbound toward Delhi. When one or more of these men, in one or more of these jeeps, decided that it was time to urinate...did the driver pull off the roadway? Nope. Traffic would be backed up for miles because one or more of these jeeps had stopped in the left-hand travel lane...just stopped and idled as its occupants vacated to vacate. Amazing.

Anywho. It was a great weekend and a good experience. Eli rode a camel, Olivia an ox-cart, monkeys and elephants galore, and none of us picked up a case of dysentery...all-in-all, a successful long weekend.

Delhi...OUT!!

"Tony," "Pointy," and "O"

The three stooges. Our beautiful stooges. Here's an update...

Eli, the billionaire-industrialist-playboy (he's still somewhat obsessed with Iron Man, hence the Tony Stark reference), is potty-trained...has been for about a month now. Thankfully, the fire hose isn't that big yet nor the stream too powerful because he doesn't quite grasp that he'll need to eventually hold onto things down there. We're going to institute some games of skill into the potty routine like "Bulls-Eye" with cheerios and "Shoot the Fly/Cigarette Butt" when going in public toilets. We have applied to a school for Eli, but there isn't an opening until August. In the meantime, we're looking for other options. Julie is enjoying her time at home with him, but Eli really needs a pal his own age.

Alise, AKA "Pointy," has a full head of hair forever at attention. She's made the transition officially from ball o' cuddle to interactive baby...she talks and coos, giggles, and rolls over. She could watch Eli and Olivia play and laugh all day long, and they always bring a smile to her face. We're spoiling her, as we have the other two, and we'll no doubt pay. I'll no doubt pay.

O-o-o-o-o-livia!! She is beautiful and stubborn and dramatic...bright and creative and emotional. She's adjusting better, has made some friends at school, and has a few playdates scheduled. She's learning tons at school, and really seems to be enjoying things now, for the most part. She's prone to tantrums that can last hours...and she defines "fickle." But beautiful...so amazing.

We took a road-trip to Jaipur over the long weekend and have a couple hundred pictures to show for it (and I'm willing to bet the camel gave me fleas). I will update the blog with Tales from Jaipur shortly.

Delhi...OUT!!

You asked about traffic in Delhi?!?

If you were curious...think of road travel in Delhi in this manner -

Chicken. Millions of drivers in millions of cars playing chicken with every other vehicle on the road, to include the vehicles traveling in the opposite direction they are. First one to the corner, wins! First one into the traffic circle, wins! First one into the opposing traffic lane, wins! First one to edge the nose of their vehicle an inch ahead of the other vehicle, wins!

Surprisingly, it seems to work. A well-choreographed game of chicken. The amount of attention required while driving though is preposterous. There's no cell phone, no texting, no eating while driving, no make-up...just driving. Why? Because you have to focus...you have to tune in to the consciousness of every other driver on the road in order to figure out what their next move will be...and, more importantly, if they're the kind of driver that will slow down as you cut them off on the curve or if they'll push right through you. I've only seen a handful of accidents where one or both of the drivers were apparently incorrect.

Delhi...OUT!!

How a Blog Works (or at least My Blog)

I've intended the Blog as a means to provide information about our goings-on, about our life here in Delhi...updates en masse. This allows us to "send one email" versus "multiple emails." Just as with email, if we blog, then responses are always nice...updates in return. It's a ghost town out there, nothing but frogs and crickets. We thank those who've responded with comments and updates...those who haven't, you know who you are and you should be ashamed. Deeply ashamed. Like maybe consider dyeing/cutting your hair, growing facial hair (if possible), relocating to a small New England/Pacific Northwest town, and becoming that "one guy/gal that keeps to themself and never talks to no one no how." All of that can be avoided if you occasionally respond with news of your own. The choice is your own...choose wisely or choose plaid.

Delhi...OUT!!

They doth protest too much...

Jantar Mantar! The images you see here are of Delhi's only government-approved protest site. You want to yell and scream? Well, get a permit and head to Jantar Mantar! It's also a very M.C. Escher-esque location...multiple terracotta structures erected to assist a once-living Maharaja to map the movement of stars and other planetary bodies. The site is really quite impressive.
You might be thinking "It looks more like a public park or a place one might take a picnic than a protest site," and we thought the same thing. We then thought, why can't it be both? You're tired of screaming about Western capitalism or Indian incompetency or the Chinese stronghold in Tibet...time for a break, maybe a tuna salad sandwich and some Tang, and then, once refreshed, you get right back to it...your screams
of protest that much louder, your clever rhyming
chants rhyme even better than before. Who knows, perhaps the world takes notice and thinks to itself "Wow, they really seem worked up, even energized, impassioned...they must really care, and I bet they had a nice lunch!" Olivia and Eli even had a run at it, chanting "Hell No, We Won't Go...To Bed" over and over again (they finally did). They also started in with "We're Here, We're Queer, Get Over It!" That one didn't last too long...I think they even realized how little sense it made...right now at least. We rounded out Saturday with dinner at Cafe Turtle (think Kramer Books & Afterwords in Dupont Circle...only Indian).
On Sunday, after church, we walked Hauz Khas village, dubbed the Greenwich of Delhi. Art galleries, boutique clothiers, antique stores...and, at its center, 700-year old ruins and tombs. Packs of stray puppies roamed the streets, telephone wire hung low, and most buildings looked as though they were on their way up or down. Not quite Greenwich, but there seemed a few diamonds in the rough (Cotton Curio, we're looking in your direction). Then it was off to Khan Market yet again for a late lunch at The Kitchen. The food was great, and the kids were the pits. I think we would have preferred it the other way around.


Delhi....OUT!!

"So a Brahmin, a Kshatriya, and a Vaishya walk into a bar..."

I'm pretty sure that's what this says in Hindi...or at least the part that I can make out. This is the archway from a tomb at Lodi Gardens. The kids were just below the archway. I told them that they couldn't have their picture taken until they'd translated the joke completely. As of this morning, Julie was still running food out to them. I'm kidding, of course. They translated the joke pretty quickly, and it turned out rather crude.

Ahhhh, good times. Nothing new to report, really. We're all still adjusting to life in Delhi. For the kids, some days are better than others...Olivia has hit the occasional rough patch, but we're rounding out the edges. Eli is happy so long as he can ride his skateboard or his bike or go back to Dilli Haat (he's had me haggle for a wooden alligator, a traditional Indian hat, and a piece of carpet shaped like a car...so far). Alise is happy so long as we're not driving anywhere...she's cool just hanging in that carseat, but the minute the car starts moving...wow. Julie is throwing a Lunar New Year gathering tomorrow. Julie insisted we call it the "Lunar" New Year as opposed to the "Chinese" New Year, so that she wouldn't have to continually answer the question "So, are you Chinese?" She's not, as far as we know. I insisted we call it a "gathering" because the word "party" carries with it so much expectation. "Gathering," however, implies that it could be really dull and that would be okay. We're trying to get all of our social events out of the way early...we figure that once everyone realizes that we really can't throw a decent party, then we'll never have to worry about it again. We may not get any invitations of our own, but that saves us the trouble of "conversation," which requires effort and consciousness.

Work is...work. I'm enjoying it, for the most part. As with any job, I find the hardest part isn't the actual work, but all of the personalities and egos you have to dance around. I commented to a friend earlier this week "the world would be a much better place if everyone could just put down their egos for half a second." That includes me, of course, because even as I write this I think "That's very insightful...if only more people thought like YOU!" I am egotistical and arrogant, but I think acknowledging that is the first step toward recovery. "An Ego-less You: A Guide to a Better Life through Recognizing You Don't Know Shit, in the End." Man, I'm smart.

I digress. We're currently taking orders for Pashmina shawls. I know a guy who knows a guy who came across a whole truckload...kidding. We can buy really nice ones for next to nothing, so order now while we're feeling generous. Also, friends and family, you only have a couple more months before the heat from Hell emanates upward and cooks Delhi, so you really should consider visiting soon. Furthermore, visiting while we're still "getting acquainted" with Delhi is probably a good move because than we'll all be excited about exploring and traveling. If you visit us when we're a year in, then it will be like when you visit someone you know in D.C. and you suggest "Hey, can we go to the National Mall," and your friend responds "Sure, YOU can go to the National Mall, I'll be at Starbucks."

Anywho...Delhi, OUT!!