It's so Hard to Say Goodbye: On Leaving India

Temple woodwork like clockwork: hand carved, one petal at a time 

It's weird the way time works.  Time is a man-made construct that reconciles our comprehension of the world into tiny, measurable units.  Over time, consistency is key (technically), though experientially, time moves at warp speed when life is busy, and putters around like that lonely neighbor when you are counting down the minutes.

On the way to visit Ganapati we made some some friends

That's the thing about time: it's there when you want it, it's gone when you don't.  Thus I am left with five days in India, time moving at a pace that is no longer catchable as I try to pack, meet up with friends, say goodbyes, close up shop, and prepare for the future that is nigh across the globe and 8,792 miles!

India has been incredibly good to me.  In two years I have made lasting friendships, learned to relish and crave a regionally-varied cuisine, and traveled to places I never thought I'd go to that were childhood dreams...

Two years ago, I had never visited Asia.

Bustling Streets, Spirits High: Celebrating the Remover of Obstacles, a million at a go

Now I've LIVED in India and have traveled to Nepal, Singapore, Malaysia, Philippines, Thailand, and as of next week Indonesia.

In India, I was able to see, smell, and experience the delights of                                  
New Delhi, Goa, Kerala, Kolhapur, Gujarat, Varanasi, and the Maharashtra mountains.

And of course I will never forget living in 'the Beverly Hills' of Mumbai, walking the streets of Old Bombay, haggling with vendors and chatting with chai wallas, and meeting an incredible group of girls from the working slum of Dharavi.  I even did a 12-day silent meditation retreat with rural Indian farmers and 35 good-hearted women, sleeping on lightly-padded concrete in a room with a friendly rat.  And in all honesty, it was wonderful, and I would do it again in a heartbeat, rat and all (okay, maybe without the rat for next time!).

A Cosmic Dance through Time

It's been quite the adventure and I am a better person for it.  Or, at least, I hope I am.  I wake up every day realizing how incredibly lucky we are and what a privileged life we lead.  I feel like the more I see of India, the more I learn that I have barely scratched the surface.  Getting to live in the world and see it from multiple vantage points has made me a more grounded person.  It's made me appreciate home more, even as I revel at the amazing cultural frames that have produced entire civilizations, built empires, encouraged wars, fostered alliances, expanded economies, and created entirely new religions that have both globalized and localized to match social change and environmental variance.  Ah, life!

Fruits, Flowers, Veg: Fresh to Eat, Admire, and Enjoy

The world is an incredible place and I am that tiny dot in one bitty corner of the globe, watching with wide eyes. 




Five more days in India, then it's off to New Adventures.
                                                                       I'm sad to say goodbye, but at least the future is bright.

Goodbye, friend.

For the Love of Bombay: What I will (and will not) miss about Mumbai

We have five months left in India.  For a vacationer, this seems like forever.  But for a place where you've established yourself, made friends, and picked haunts, 150 days is a short amount of time. The transition of moving from one location to another always brings out a series of mixed emotions: you are leaving an old life behind while looking forward to the one to come.  Initiating project devil's advocate, I am going to play a game called "this is what I will and will not miss about Mumbai."

Drivers like to honk their horns in Mumbai: it's a way to say hello, goodbye, I'm turning, move, I will run you over, or any other form of communication that says I have a car horn and I am not afraid to use it... Horn NOT ok!

Not miss:
The noise, the traffic, the smog, smoke, dust and dirt

Miss:
The people, delicious food, beautiful fabrics, the dances of bird songs outside my window

Not miss:
Fireworks the sound of bombs going off at all hours of the day (Sunday at 5:00 am this morning);

Miss:
How excited my dogs get about all of the interesting smells and finds;

Not miss:
Having to bleach bath my vegetables before I can eat them, not being able to drink the water;

Marigold petals from Ganesh Chaturthi at Chowpatty Beach 

Miss:
Incredible trips throughout India--like a last-minute trip to Kerala through the backwaters on a houseboat;

Not miss:
Possibilities of malaria, dengue, cholera, TB and a treasure trove of other good bugs;

Miss:
The high-end and low-brow restaurants that all serve amazing fare with really kind people;

Not miss:
Piles of trash with little rat leaders who surround their germy bounty;

Every rickshaw has its own special flare

Miss:
The movie theater deluxe experience including free drink, blanket, reclining chairs, and movie-side ordering of anything from papa chaat to cappuccinos that is inimitable in any other place (for the high cost of $7);

Not miss:
All the kids begging in the streets, and the sadness that comes from seeing how tough life is for millions of people on a day to day basis; knowing that two people per day starve in the city when so much wealth abounds;

Miss:
Rickshaws--yes, in all of their craziness;

Chaiwallah serving tea on the moving train: he gave us a makeshift seat, stellar guy  

Not miss:
The disordered chaos of driving;

Miss:
All of the fashion, art, and Bollywood events that occur any and every day of the week;

Not miss:
The crowdedness that comes with being the largest city in the second largest country in the world;

Miss:
running across spectacular architecture and little shrines and temples throughout the city;

Not miss:
Haggling.  Scratch that. Sometimes haggling is fun.

Miss:
the beautiful cows who get in the way riding to work every morning;


Not miss:
I don't know.  Mumbai has grown on me.  There really are so many incredible things that I am going to miss, it is hard to say goodbye.

Miss:
The young, creative energy of Mumbai and the people who work so hard to create ventures, venues, and projects;

Miss:

The festivals like Holi and Ganapati Chaturthi and 9 days for Durga and the lights and lanterns at Diwali;

Art is everywhere, if you take the time to look.

Miss:

The affordability of the city; 

the joy of new adventures; 

the smiles from little children in other cars when we are stuck in traffic throughout the city; 

the dusty bizarres and teeny perfumeries; 

sari shops and dessert stops; 

so many vegetarian options; 

the green parrots, hawks, and ominous crows; 

the street dogs who just want to be loved; 

poojas and ablutions; 

prayer sites and chaiwallahs; 

amazing bouquets of flowers; 

train adventures;

upma, parathas, dosas, and fresh bread; 

yoga and Vipassana; 

the religious diversity of Jains, Parsis, Sikhs, Muslims, Catholics, Buddhists, Hindus, and Jews all living together in one city; 

and all of the little non-touristy places where we've made ourselves a home.  

We're going to miss this hectic, 

                                              crazy, 

                                      joyful amazing place: 

                                                                 Rome, you've got a lot to live up to!

Inevitability, Decisions & Choice (or, How life moves you as much or more as you move in life)

Facing the Fates: Deciding What Will Be When Given Limited Options

In the Foreign Service, we move to new places every two to four years.  We are invited to live in a new country, learn a new language, experience a different culture, share with people our journey and vice versa.  Often, we don't always know where we are going to end up.  For some, this can be worrisome, not knowing your future.  But, here's the thing about some of life's big decisions being chosen for you in the Foreign Service: it is exciting.  It is adventurous.  It is amazing.  It can be tough.  It can provide the opportunity to face your greatest fears or to fulfill an unrealized dream long held dear: perhaps both, simultaneously.  It is one thing to decide where you are going and then go. It is alternatively another to say, "Let the fates be made and then be happy with it."  Here is my take (albeit brief) on facing situations where choice is limited or directed.

Hungry?

Letting go of the power of choice can be liberating.  Seems counterintuitive, I know.  So why, you ask, is this so?  Studies in behavioral psychology have repeatedly shown that we are happier and healthier when faced with a number of limited decisions.  Being faced with no choice is life-defeating, but too many choices can be overwhelming.  When the world is our oyster, often we want spaghetti... or are not hungry at all.


When we have more decision-making, more selection, more opportunity, more options, we are happier, right?  Yes and no.  Having self-sufficiency, personal independence, and self-determination provides power.  But with all the choices in the world before you, and little direction, it can lead to stagnation and even paralysis.  What if I choose wrongly?  What if I go down a path that proves a waste of time, energy, and resources?  There is the inevitability of self-doubt, the what-ifs, and the back-o'-the mind question of what could I have done differently?

So many options, so little time!

So how to pick only ONE option, one way, one path, when it appears that ALL selections lie before you?  Hmmm.... that is why it is okay, and perfectly healthy, to shut doors and avenues.  At twenty, I would have doubted that, but it's true: making our own paths leads to alternative realities becoming, indubitably, ever out of reach.  And that is okay. We are but one person: no need to do all and be all when we can be who we are and strive for what we want without losing sight of the values, ideals, and people that are most important to us.

Allowing some amount of flexibility in the decision-making of your future, however, both challenges and pushes you out of your own box of comfortability.  It allows you to think of yourself in ways you had not perceived previously.  It allows you the freedom of being a part of a process where possibility, synchronicity, and chance collide--sometimes beautifully.

Do ya take the call?

As an example, I was sure we would be posted to Africa after Mumbai.  We had several African postings high on our list and I assumed that was where our near future would lead.  I was happy with that.  I was also contented with the idea of going to Latin America, South Asia, the Middle East, and eastern Europe.  I was pretty convinced we would get SOMEthing, I just didn't know what. So when we finally got our post, I was shocked. Incredulous.  Unsure.  I checked and re-read the email over and over.  I thought it might have been a misprint. I was sure someone else would get it, but there were our names beside four little letters: R-O-M-E.  So that was that.  We were going to Rome! (Once I got over the initial shock, by the way, I was thrilled.)


We got an amazing posting and we are elated about our upcoming future.  Cheese!  Wine!  Art! Music!  Italy!  Need I say more?  (I will, er-hum, in future posts).

Of course, every city is a great post, in its own way, but preferentially some are above others on my bucket list.  So this is the post-me, the future me, responding to where I got posted.  [And I realize that months have passed without updating the online community about our next posting worldwide.  Mea culpa.]  In all fairness, I got posted to one of the most intellectually stimulating, soulfully artful, and linguistically interesting places in the world: Bella Roma!  We will move from India to Italy by summer of 2014.

New Doors, New Options

Yes, I was lucky.  Sometimes you don't get your top picks.  Sometimes there is surprise followed by tears.  Sometimes it takes weeks to realize that your world has been turned around overnight and that you are soon going to be learning a different language, buying new clothes, meeting new friends, and eating food that you aren't yet sure about.  And that's okay.

The good news is that most people I've talked to end up adjusting, adapting, and often loving the place they may have not expected or originally hoped for: we learn to live with what we have and be satisfied with what we are given.  The future holds great opportunity, yes, but the present is what we live with, day in, day out: better make the best of it.  Choices I was not happy with, struggles that I was not ready to face, in retrospect, have become my greatest allies, personal triumphs, and happiest moments.  When we do what is always expected, we will know what to expect.  Indeed. But expectations are finite, limited to our current perspective: might as well go for what we can't foresee and invite the opportunity to become more than we ever imagined when we were standing still or stuck in the inertia of indecision.

Go Ahead, Walk a Mile

That's the amazing thing about humanity: we learn to become who we are wherever we may be.  We come to see ourselves through the eyes of others, walking in their shoes, sharing in their meals, and exchanging words of insight.  We come to know who we are by where we stand, where we are going, and who we are with: without new challenges, we remain standing, yes, but at a standstill.  If we always knew what we were going to get, there would never be those moments of risk, surprise, or epiphany in light of the new.  This is the life of the Foreign Service. And it is wonderful.

It's Bidding Time: Where in the World is Next?

It's bidding time again. 

In the Foreign Service we are all worldwide available: we go where we are told according to the needs of the service at the time.  Not every post abroad is in the most ideal of circumstances.  No place, anywhere, is perfect.  But, we do get to list our preferences, to say where we are drawn to and to pitch where we'd like to go.  If you're lucky, and the needs of the service match, you might get to go somewhere high on your list.  This is where the excitement of the Bid List begins.  It opens your mind up to a whole new world, imagining yourself in multiple places scattered across the globe.

Bidding time is that exciting period in the Foreign Service tour abroad where you receive a list of upcoming possibilities--the opportunity for a million new adventures.  Some posts are in tropical, steamy climates while others are frigidly cold.  Some are in danger zones, others are in posh tourist destinations.  Some posts would fulfill lifelong dreams, others seem like a bore. 
 
You begin to do research on places that few of your friends and family have visited, let alone heard of...  While some cities have a bling and surrounding glamour at the mere mention of their name, others are wrought with outsider responses that ask, "Where is that on the map?  Is it safe?  What is its history?  Would I be willing to visit?"  People outside of a traveling lifestyle are often nervous about the unknown.  The unfamiliar appears fear-inducing.  Cities across the globe are often just dots on a map until you hear about someone, or know someone, who is living there.  Suddenly the news for that country becomes a direct listing on your internet feed; your phone app lets you know its weather and time; you begin to worry when you hear that an earthquake is in the region.  Family members wrack their minds and wring their hands over possibilities for their loved ones in countries their neighbor down the street once said was a dangerous (or frightful) place.  

From my experience, choosing your next destination all comes down to perspective.  I ask myself, "What do you hope to achieve in the next few years?  Where can you go that will make the most positive impact?  Which places excite you the most?  Which places are you most afraid to be posted at and why?"  I like to know not just what compels me, but why I am compelled.  I ask myself the tough questions, and I don't shy away from examining why one place is more appealing or personally inviting than another.  I think my preference for particular posts is ultimately an expression of self-identity, of where I want to go and what I want to do over the next few years.  I do not take the opportunity lightly.       

At times, yes, coming to a decision can be nerve-wracking.  You are, after all, bidding on posts in regions you may have never traveled to, in cities you've never seen.  You rely on second-hand knowledge from the people who have gone before you; you read and research and create cards that weigh the ups and downs of each place according to individual needs.  

You are not going on vacation or a temporary visit--you are bidding on your future.  This is where you will live, connect, eat, laugh, cry, walk, and share memories for the next few years.  You don't want to make a mistake, but then, you also don't want to pick a post just because it's easy, known, or doable.  Taking the easy route is rarely my style.  Why go somewhere that is exactly like my home country living abroad?  I am looking to be changed, to interact culturally, to learn.  I don't want to merely create a little America in my new place.  I look to be immersed within community; to understand social nuances; to hear and see the scars that mar the landscape, and listen to the tears that tell their stories. 

I look for a challenge, a place that will inspire, a city that will invite me to grow, stretch and transform.  Two to four years is a long time to be in a new place.  Adjustment takes time.  Language takes effort.  Cultural norms take practice, and new friendships take courage to build.  You have to trust in a new place and people, and hope that they likewise trust in you.

Not to say that all posts aren't great in their own ways--it's just that personal preferences push you towards one region or another, certain types of food or weather, a linguistic challenge...whatever is your vision of a hellish post or a fabulous post, the good news is that someone else wants to go where you wouldn't dream.  That's the beauty of the Foreign Service, and the adventurous spirit of Foreign Service employees: everyone has their own vision for what the best place is, or where their next post can be, because we all come from different backgrounds and experiences. 

Bidding Time is that liminal, transitory phase where you don't know where you are going next, but you've narrowed it down to your top 15 out of 50, or 8 out of 30, or whatever number of posts you learn are currently available. 

With our bid list submitted, now we're in the waiting zone: we will know our future in 2 to 4 weeks.

Painted Reveries, Elephant Dreams: Mumbai's Ganapati Chaturthi Festival

As keeper of the community, Ganesha-Ganapati becomes the embodied spirit collective, representative of Mumbai's humble past, Bombay's rise to power, and Bumbai's celebratory future: the Elephant God is both keeper of secrets and holder of dreams--     the representation of all things hoped for, the dream to be and become in a city filled to the gills with rich, poor, poets, and peddlers.  As a physical symbol of protection, Ganesha's image protects elevator doors from breaking down, is plastered across cars and rickshaws to prevent accidents, is painted along walls to deter passersby from desecrating streets, and is hidden all across the city among niches and pathways to protect its humble patrons.     

      Reflections from this year's Mumbai Ganapati Chaturthi Festival, September 2012:   

The painted Ganeshas are being built, sealed, cemented, and finalized for the annual Mumbai festival, where the representative patron of the city, Elephant God Ganapati--remover of obstacles and Lord of Beginnings--is graciously carried by adherents in the thousands.  As gramadevata, or the deity of community, Ganesha embodies the soul of the City of Dreams: its people, rush, streets, trees, pollution, vendors, buildings, foods, and the songs of the city.  Elements of Ganapati combine, fuse, and intermingle, producing the essence, the feel, the sense of the place.  

The clay and cement bodies of Ganesha-Ganapati sigh a relief as they are plunged into the depths of the ocean. The crowd performs ceremony, ablutions, and cheers of happiness as their City's divine protector is granted sweets, bananas, flowers, incense, ghee candles, and even the more recent addition of offerings of milk.  The large metal vases built in the south side's Chowpatti beach are ready to catch their offerings; to envelop the pujas materially manifest and received by the holy of holies in Mumbai's practitioner pantheon.  (A puja is a ritualized form of Hindu prayer and offering.)

The voice of Ganesha speaks through his people, adherents and worshipers bowing before the sea.  The voices of the silent are deafening.  All around are listening, waiting. Reflecting humility as the water reflects back.  Looking into themselves as they look upon one another.  Chaos and reverie, humility and community.

The Elephant God will speak, manifest, shine forth, bring blessings...the promises of a new year.  The wholesome wish for things future and good...   The dream to carry forth and be fed, be sated, be satisfied, be sanctified.  The desire to be free from burden.  The desire to be free from guilt.  The desire to be whole and pure.

The collective celebration fills the hollows, the cracks, the fissures in people's spirits.  Refreshes and revives for another day.  Brings completeness to the displeasure of brokenness.  Opens wounds so that the salve can enter deeply.  The voices of the silent, they speak.  Ganesha hears their voices, silently wishing their heartfelt prayers become personified in real-time. 



The ablution has been made. The blessing has moved forward.
The Elephant God, in all his incarnations,
is bathed, blessed, and brought forth to life in the eyes of his people.
The cacophony is deadening as it pierces our very centers.

The crowds rejoice.  Rain falls.  The people dance haphazardly, happily, transformed from driver and beggar and maid into ritual celebrant, supplicant, performer.  Cheers and sighs of heaving embellish the monsoon sky; the beach becomes an elephant oasis.  The statues wink as their paint begins to bleed, drip, drop, as in scales of armor falling to invite the new.












The lead paint from the statues disintegrates into the ocean, piece by piece raising the poisoned fish as a salute, floating to the surface.  Their sacrifice has been noted.  Ganesha listens and the people rejoice.  Another year has been offered, another been received.  Ganesha, in his majesty, lives again: voice of the people, Patron King, he washes over impurities and makes his worshipers feel anew.

Splashes of water, 

the washing of the face, eyes, feet, 

a sign to begin again.  

 The water cools and burns, 

ices as it purifies.

The silence is deafening among all of the honks and city sirens/ 

but the voice of the people is heard.  

Rejoice!  Ganapati speaks through the actions of his people.     

Peace, Violence, Hope

There is so much to be thankful for.

The world is turning itself on its head right before me.  World news is transformative.  Violence in many countries at times appears immanent.  And yet, despite the calls towards dissonance, the cadenced ring of voices of hope spread across the page, through the words of friends, through those longing for a brighter future, individuals and communities with dreams for a better tomorrow, a deeper understanding, a holistic sense of love, the freedom of longevity, and a desire to feel safe.

Safety is the sense of home.   In safety we find peace, and with peace, openness.

There is so much to be thankful for: life, health, strength.

For those who are suffering, let them feel peace.
For those who are hurting, let them have rest.
For those who are tired, let them revive.
For those who are weak, let them find voice.
For those who are trampled, let them be raised.
For those who are burdened, let them be free.
For those who are happy, healthy, whole--
or working to be full and found,
despite a sense of rupture, brokenness, heartbreak--
let us give thanks.
Let us give thanks for
the seed of hope,
kernel of truth,
flash of light,
aha moment...
that allows us to see amidst sadness lies hope,
and in a world breeding violence,
peace reigns supreme.

Thought for the Day

To Try

To Die

To Free

or Be Freed--

Between Fear and Adventure,

I Choose the Journey.

      -christi 3.21.11