Decisions, Decisions

It wasn't really as easy as all that deciding to go. I took the weekend to work through all my tangled thoughts. Before now I never understood when someone would tell me "I'm confused" about making a decision. You make a list of the options, go through the pros and cons, perhaps assign some weight or priority, and the decision is clear I always thought. Making the decision to go to India at this time in my life was the closest I've come to being "confused" about making a decision -- and perhaps "conflicted" is actually a better word.

First off, I'm not very spontaneous. I like to PLAN. And while the trip is still months away, this decision feels like an act of spontaneity. Usually a flight across the pond is at least a year in the making for me… this is almost overnight!

Then I had to tackle the reality of my bravado. I make these grand statements that I fully intend to carry through -- when the time comes -- if the time ever comes….. "I'm going to retire in Italy."  "Next time I get downsized I'm going to spend three months in an ashram in India."  Will I really go through with these big statements -- who knows. Who knows if I have the courage to back up my mouth -- or if my eyes are bigger than my stomach!

Typically I'm really good at putting on a brave face and powering on when faced with the opportunity to do something new and exciting, all the while underneath I'm a quivering mass of nerves.  I've taken beach vacations alone. I've gone to NYC and stayed in hotels alone. It always works out great! This trip wouldn't be alone -- I would have an experienced travelling companion and would be staying with friends. Going with all this support -- especially for my first foray -- is the ideal way to go. Certainly any apprehension I may have about the total foreignness (to me) of the culture, can be obliterated by the knowledge that I will probably never be alone, I will be taken care of by friends who have proved their immense hospitality to me time and again.

And then I went through the I-can't-be-away-from-work-four-weeks argument -- and solved it with the but-I-can-work-at-our-office-in-India solution. I mean, what a fabulous team building exercise!

And so here is my chance to take this trip I've long anticipated. Perhaps it's not as lengthy and painstakingly orchestrated as I prefer, and definitely  not in the nebulous future timing I'd expected.  But what's wrong with shaking things up a bit? 

So I decided. Let's do this! Dammit!

I dreamed of India

I can't remember exactly when in my life I decided I liked the idea of India. I think at some point there was a subconscious mashup of my Indu-exposure into this nebulous entity I thought was intensely cool.

John, Paul, George and Ringo's journey to the Maharishi's ashram in Rishikesh and the subsequent news reports of hippie pilgrimages to Delhi and Goa played a big part, as I was a hippie from age five -- as much as a kindergartener can assume a cultural and political identity separate from his parent's. George's deep connection to Hare Krishna and meditation was of particular interest. His Holiness the Dalai Lama's midnight escape to Dharamsala was as well, because any guy who's lived 13 lives and chooses to settle there -- well, it must be a really cool place. And Gandhi, 'nuff said.

My entire life I've been drawn to clothing with Indian sensibilities. The 60's in America was a decade draped in Indian fabrics and colors. The Beatles for sure. I think I remember the Monkees wearing Indian style shirts on their show. And Nehru jackets were everywhere on the boob tube, from villains on cop or spy movies to cheesy singers doing Doors covers on variety shows. The 70's, when I actually could make my own choices about what to like and how to think, saw my classmates wearing braided leather sandals barely held to feet with a single toe ring and an ankle strap. And the piece de resistance for me, were the Indian cotton shirts I ordered from tiny black-and-white ads in the back of magazines, cotton gauze kurta's with appliques of swirly flowers that I wore with corduroy Levi's and long jingling earrings. In the 80's Pier 1 was stuffed with racks of Made-In-India clothes, from bright long loose rayon pants to gauzy skirts and dropped skirt dresses. I was a regular shopper. Even today my friends and co-workers know that I always appreciate a little sumpin-sumpin from the motherland to add to my closet collection.

I came to the food relatively recently -- I've been a lover of Indian food for about 10 years now - even trying my hand at recipes I find online. I especially love biryani, tikka masala, giant paper dosas, dal makhani, samosas, and mattar paneer. I LOVE those little egg-shaped pastries in which you drop stuff and drizzle vinegar, mmm mmm! The rice, omg, the rice! As a Southerner I was brought up eating rice with every meal, and light and non-sticky basmati rice is empty carb heaven! I could eat it alone -- with nothing in or on! Throw along a basket of aloo naan and I could fall into a carb coma rivalled only by Thanksgiving!

It's been a lifelong long-distance love affair, and I'm so excited to meet India in person!