Back Where We Started...

We’ve been in India for only four days so far but they have been filled to the brim with activity.

But first, the trip.  Traveling to India with two children proved to be challenging, but far less so than I anticipated (for the most part).

Of course, we couldn’t leave Minneapolis without some kind of crisis.  I manufactured this one, of course.  When we started the check-in process, I realized we were down one passport.  Now we’re all freaking out.  I remembered that I made photocopies of the passports the night before and must have left the last one on the scanner at home.   Crap.  Called my neighbor and luckily he was home and willing to retrieve it and bring it to the airport.  Disaster averted.

Our first leg was to Chicago – a short trip that was uneventful.  From there we connected to Amsterdam on KLM.  The flight was pretty good, but a bit stuffy - after more than 20 winters in Minnesota, this one being one of the coldest – I found the temperature on the plane to be considerably warmer than my home.   When we landed in Amsterdam we had a 5 ½ hour layover.  The first thing we did was find a spot to nap in (lounge chairs in a relatively quiet spot.) We had some breakfast, did a little shopping (cheese & chocolate) and then boarded our second flight.  Eight hours later we landed in Delhi.  We got our bags, got a taxi and proceeded to my cousin’s house, getting in at about 3:30am local time.  Some warm milk and toast, then bed. 

Waking up that first morning in India is always sort of magical for me.  There are the sounds – the birds, bhajans (hymns) played with morning prayers, horns honking, street vendors calling out announcing their wares, and cups of steaming hot tea with biscuits to start the day.

Our first day in Delhi was a Monday, which is sort of like Sunday in the Western world in that many businesses are closed.  One area that is open on Mondays is Connaught Place, so we took the kids and my nephew’s wife (does that make her my niece-in-law?) Came along.  We shopped for some clothes and table linens and got the kids some ice cream and headed home. 

More to come…. But for now we’re settling in well and the girls are having a ball.  They love the food, their baby cousin, and are even tolerating the Delhi traffic.  We're looking forward to power shopping and sightseeing in the next few days.  Stay tuned…and be sure to check out Rain's blog: The Return of the Desi Larkhi.

Back with an Update

By popular demand (ok, two requests, but I am sure that is just a representative sample), I thought I would do a post-arrival update.  I can't believe we've been home for three weeks, or that I have had Junior for more than a month now.  The changes in her in the last month have been remarkable.  Now that I think about it, it may take more than one or two posts to really do it all justice.  So please bear with me.

When we left off, Junior and I were getting ready to fly home after a couple of, shall we say, hiccups in the international air travel arena.  The hotel provided a taxi to the airport, and my cousin kindly provided us with a portable meal or two since I had no hope that our request for vegetarian food would actually result in, you know, vegetarian food being served to us.  My cousin stopped by our room before we were due to leave for the airport, and Junior very kindly deposited one of her socks in my cousin's purse.  Didn't realize it until it was time to leave our room that there was a missing sock!  :-0  Since we were flying for 24 hours and into Minnesota spring (which your people may call "winter") going without socks was not an option.  I called my cousin in a panic and asked her if there was a child's sock in her purse.  Laughing, she responded that there was and sent it over to the hotel.

Once we were at the airport, we got checked in and headed to the airport lounge (courtesy of Business Class upgrade), snacked and chilled until it was time to board the plane.  That was when I got a sense of just how huge the new airport in New Delhi is - it took such a long time to get to the gate ("we're walking, and we're walking, and we're walking.....") that by the time we got to the gate they were announcing the final boarding call.  Turns out it worked in our favor.  I will explain.

For the trip home, I had a nice baby stroller that I had picked out carefully for its features and sturdiness. I passed a woman with a cheap umbrella stroller that I know she got for $29.99 from some big box baby store that tipped over if the child wasn't in it.   I felt sorry for her right up to the moment that some agent offered me a gate check ticket and told me that I would get my stroller back in Minneapolis (!??!).  I told her that I really needed the stroller in Paris - we had a 5 hour layover and I had a large backpack, a purse,  Junior's backpack full of the toys and games she had almost no interest in, and a small child who would not walk on her own most of the time.  

I pleaded with her to let me take the stroller on board and she told me, most apologetically, that the stroller was too big.  But I could tell she was sympathetic.  She walked me to the door and asked the French flight attendants about it, and they said to her (and me):  "Eeeet eeez note possibluh, eeet eeez toooo beeeg."  So she got on the walkie-talkie, exchanged some rapid-fire Hindi with someone on the tarmac and then responded to them that the cargo doors had been shut.  So the flight attendants (both male and doing a fine job of permanently destroying the stereotype that all Frenchmen are sexy) - ok - eye zupphose we 'ave no shoice!" And promptly found a spot for my stroller.  

Junior did fine on that first flight.  We had large seats and she was able to stretch out and sleep the whole way.    We landed in Paris, had to take a shuttle to another terminal (which required carrying everything, including Junior and the stroller) for about 15 minutes on the shuttle - which sort of sucked.

We got to our terminal and then I started looking around for some food.  It was dawning on me that the farther we were getting from India that pickier Junior was getting about food.  I was able to get her some warm milk and myself a cappuccino and both of us some pastries.  She downed the milk just fine but rejected the pastry (even the chocolate croissant!).  I finally found some vanilla yogurt that she would eat and got her a couple of containers to eat.  No fresh fruit to be found in Charles de Gaulle airport and I knew she wouldn't touch the compote.  Even the food my cousin had packed had lost its luster.  I was really getting concerned about her and I knew that the last leg of the trip was going to be really tough.  I hate it when I am right about stuff like that.

The flight was 9 hours from Paris to Minneapolis, and Junior started crying during the taxi.  She alternated between several activities over the course of the flight: crying, screaming, sleeping briefly before returning to screaming and crying, fighting with me over the seat belt, and demanding to be taken to the bathroom, where she spent most of her time playing with the sink and the toilet paper while producing little of the products generally associated with trips to the bathroom.  Not only was she miserable, I felt like I was in hell and I am pretty sure everyone around us felt the same way.   I won't go into too many details, but suffice it to say it was the worst flight I have ever experienced in my life, and if you knew how much I used to travel, you would know that this is saying something.

When we landed in Minneapolis, we got through immigration unscathed, except for being in the wrong line - a blunder that the kind immigration officials righted by allowing me to cut in front of about 50 new immigrants to the US - welcome to America people - this lady's a citizen and has a baby - so she goes first.    

Once we cleared customs we ventured out into the airport where daughter Rain and my sweetie were waiting for us with balloons and a teddy bear (and bananas that I had called ahead for).  I had such a sweet feeling of joy and relief to finally be home I can't even describe.  I was exhausted - having had about 6 hours of sleep in the past 48, elated and exhilarated.  

More to come...but here's a pic of the airport arrival.  

Coming Home

It's Wednesday afternoon in New Delhi and our flight is tonight.  Monday was our final visa appointment, and Junior and I spent most of the morning at the U.S. Embassy with Mrs. Worrywort.  We sat for a long time as the visa was processed, but I have learned that out in public, Junior is a champion sitter.  She's just fine watching people, listening to iTunes on my iPhone, eating trail mix (picking out the dried cranberries, OF COURSE) and drinking from her water bottle. 

While at the Embassy we ran into the same couple we met at the clinic on Saturday, plus two other adopting families.  I would put them into several categories: 1) Family  #1 from the clinic: naive but getting through it in good form; 2) Family #2 Clueless and wondering why the world doesn't turn to their American tune everywhere they go; 3)  Family #3: single mother (Non-Resident Indian) who high expectations and low opinions of the miserable slobs put on this earth to serve her (and no that is not me); and Family #4 Junior and me.  Junior and I were the only ones with the good sense to hire a facilitator. 

Family #1 had all their paperwork in order, but they were no one special, so had to leave the Embassy and come back in the afternoon to get their daughter's visa.  Family #2 was represented solely by Dad, who was clearly from the Deep South.  He and his wife were adopting a 6 year old girl and already had four sons.  He had tickets to fly out that night and only learned that morning that he was missing a critical document from the Indian Central Government that had not yet been delivered to the Embassy.

 Family #3, the other single mother, was an NRI like me, and was a US citizen but she clearly had grown up in the UK by the sound of her accent.  She informed me that her new daughter was under 2 but in reality was likely older since "all the orphanages lie about ages to make the children more attractive for adoption."  Probably true, but I thought it was sort of cynical and not the kind of thing you ought to be saying within earshot of Embassy personnel.  Adoption programs have been shut down that way.  She had an imperious way about her.  She asked me who my agency was, and then she revealed that she had been using the same agency.  While I have been happy with this agency, she went on for some time about how awful they were.  You know, I make my living at least in part by reading people and getting a bead on their personalities and I think I am reasonably good at it.  This woman scared me - she clearly knew everything and wasn't afraid to say so no matter who was listening. 

Finally our visa was ready (Mrs. Worrywort is well known to Embassy personnel and they processed the visa and passport out of order, getting our documents ready before they got to other people's).  Junior and I returned to our hotel, had lunch, and then went back to the room.

It was on this particular afternoon that I discovered some new and fascinating personality charactertics  of Junior's.  She likes to get into stuff.  Like my documents files, my Swiss army knife, the first aid kit, my makeup, etc....  She finds items made specifically for children singularly boring.  She like to climb on things like glasstop tables, desks, and wobbly chairs.  And she likes to try to spear apple slices with her comb.  She likes carrying empty shopping bags around the room and depositing her treasures therein.  Like the remote control to the TV, my Swiss army knife, used envelopes, tissues, paper coasters, old pamplets, and receipts.  Before we leave today I will need to empty every bag in the room lest we leave a remoteless tv in India.

We did manage to do some power shopping with my cousin Monday evening and I was able to buy gifts for pretty much everyone I know and possibly some people I don't know.

Tuesday was generally eventless, except for packing.  My cousin came over to our hotel room and helped me pack.  Or more accurately, she packed and I watched.  Talk about maximum density.  I now understand how it is she has never checked into a flight in the US without overweight baggage - she can fit a lot into a single suitcase - as long as you aren't too picky about it being organized.  If you need to get to anything before you reach your final destination, heaven help you. 

Tuesday afternoon after Junior's nap we made a short visit to one of my aunts who couldn't make it to Sunday's lunch.  It was a pleasant visit, but I missed her son (my cousin) and his wife, as she had surgery the day before and was not yet home from the hospital.

 A word about Junior's napping...I have observed that it takes Junior about an hour to settle down.  It's sort of like watching a fighter jet come in for a landing.  Before final approach, she's going like she's never going to stop - running around, jumping on the furniture and bouncing off the wall.  Eventually she lands on the bed, but like a jet landing on an aircraft carrier, sometimes it takes multiple attempts before the aircraft is brought to a stop.  Eventually Junior puts her head down, but the leg is still twitching.  Finally, I hear the long, rhythmic breathing as she drifts off.

This morning, Junior and I had our first test of wills.  She woke up in a grumpy mood, evidenced by the return of the baleful glare.  As I wanted to get down to breakfast in short order, I marched her into the bathroom to brush her teeth.  She was having none of it.  She took the toothbrush from me, brushed for about 5 seconds, then looked at me and stopped.  It was an oral hygiene standoff.  She looked at me.  I looked at her.  Then I stopped looking at her.  Then I held the toothbrush up to her mouth.  She refused to open her mouth.  It went on like this for about 5 minutes.  I could see her resolve start to falter, so I carefully wriggled the toothbrush back into her mouth and completed the job.  Amazingly, upon conclusion of this enounter, she resumed her smiling, happy ways.  Guess she's ok with Mummy being in charge.

The next drama emerged at breakfast, only this one was far more serious.  We were eating when I looked up at the TV in the hotel restaurant to see that a pilot's strike had started last night at Air India.   You know, the same Air India that Junior and I were supposed to take to Mumbai to catch a connection to Amsterdam and then home.  Crap.  Double crap.

Rude as it was to my fellow diners, I got on the phone to Delta immediately while Junior ate her breakfast.  51 minutes later (most of it spent on hold) Junior and I were rebooked through Paris and will be leaving tonight.  We're back to 2 flights instead of 3, our trip will be a mere 24 instead of 30 hours, but the best part was that they put us in Business Class for the first part of the trip (the part when you really want to sleep).  I have lost count of how many dramas it has been, but suffice it to say I am so DONE with the freakin' drama. 

After breakfast Junior - who is suffering from a little cold - :-( --started bouncing off the walls, so I called for a car and driver and, what else, did some more shopping.   We're back at the hotel, Junior down for a nap (and yes, it took her an hour to go down today as well) and I have finished packing the new booty.

We're now just a few hours away from leaving, and I am so happy to be heading home.  With Junior.  Yay.  YAY!!!!!

 

Weekend in New Delhi

Saturday was the day that we got Junior's TB test results. A positive test could mean a delay in returning to the US by at least a week and possibly a month.     :-(   Junior and I slept in on Saturday morning and had breakfast at the hotel. Her eating habits are starting to emerge and I can see challenges on the horizon. Foremost among them: her complete aversion to any and all things green. Insofar as I can tell, the only vegetable Junior will knowingly eat is potato. While I have seen her consume carrot, cabbage, tomato and onion, all of these were well disguised/camouflaged in some dish. Challenge #2: avoids all fruit except bananas, apples and watermelon. Challenge #3:  Hates most tart things. Challenge #4: Doesn't like most leavened bread products. I am seeing my chapati-making skills (poor, to say the least) being severely tested as I take up the Indian housewife's thrice-daily task of making bread. Yikes. Rain will be thrilled as she loves them as well. Good thing she doesn't insist on consistent size and shape like any Indian mother-in-law would command.

Once we were underway to the clinic for the test results, I asked the driver to please drive slowly, as a speedy journey would result in much upchuck. He understood and not only took his foot off the gas but looked concernedly at Junior frequently as we proceeded.

The clinic visit took about 2 1/2 hours, most of it just waiting. For what reason I cannot discern - the reading of Junior's test area took about 30 seconds. Or at least, I think it was the test area. Two days earlier they gave Junior an intradermal injection with something that would indicate the presence of the tuberculosis germ if she had a reaction to it (can't remember if that is a virus or bacteria right now). The nurses circled the injection area with a ballpoint pen and instructed me not to put oil, soap or lotion on the area. Of course, the doctor instructed me to give her a good rubdown with oil to alleviate Junior persistent itchy skin. Vaat too doo??

Quite naturally I gave Junior the oil rubdowns - a great way to get her to go to sleep and it has done the trick on her itchy skin (mix of tea tree oil and almond oil - works like a charm). Since the mark was long gone, I did the only logical thing: found a ballpoint pen and circled a likely area just before leaving the hotel. Funny that the clinic staff never questioned how fresh the ink looked...

I met some interesting people in the clinic waiting area. There was an American couple who were adopting an 18-month old girl from Calcutta - chatted with them for a while. There were also several refugee families (could tell from their paperwork) who looked to be Tibetan, Burmese or maybe Nepali. Really beautiful, serene people. I gave one family one of Junior's toys as it was clear they had nothing for their 10-month old son to play with.

Once we (finally) got Junior's documents we headed back to the hotel. By then the Delhi traffic had picked up and the temperatures were rising, so I nixed a shopping expedition on the way back. Junior fell asleep in the car and once we were safely ensconced back at the hotel, there we stayed for the rest of the day.

Over the last few days, Junior's personality has really started to emerge. In a word, this is one mischevious girl. She is not one to sit around and color - she's into everything and is intensely curious. I have to keep an eye on her at all times. She seems to be a quick learner and a good mimic. She's also hilarious and can be really sweet. While on Skype I also discovered that she has a healthy streak of ham in her. Once the camera is on her she takes her high energy act to a new level. Example: stand on the bed, jump up in the air and then land on her bottom and dissolve into giggles. Repeat. A lot.

Sunday was the day of The Big Lunch. Relatives from all over were coming in - 25 in all. I was truly concerned about how Junior would handle it - she cried her head off on Thursday when I took her to see one of my cousins and we had to leave about 20 minutes after we arrived. To hedge my bets I gave her a small dose of Benadryl. I rationalized that it might also help with the itching, and I needed to know how she'd react to it before we flew home.

Lunch went without a hitch, the rellies were great and Junior sat quietly in my lap, ate lunch and uttered nary a peep except to indicate to me that she had to go to the bathroom. We returned to the hotel and have been here all day. She is happiest in this room - at this point it is the most familiar place for her and there's no one to deal with except me.

As I write this, Junior is fast asleep next to me, I am watching one of my favorite Bollywood movies on TV, and looking forward to the final visa interview tomorrow morning.

Our flight is Wednesday, but once we have the visa we could theoretically leave any time. KLM certainly thought so. Our direct Delhi to Amersterdam flight was cancelled. So what does the airline do? Put me on a flight to Mumbai so that I could take the Mumbai-Amersterdam flight, and put Junior on the Delhi-Amersterdam flight one day early. Geniuses...

It took a couple of calls to get it straightened out, but we're good now. Three days left and then we head home - I am really looking forward to it...

She's Mine!

It's been about 48 hours since we left the orphanage and what an amazing couple of days!

First, as a spoiler alert, let me just say that Junior and I are resting comfortably in our New Delhi hotel.  More on that later...

My cousin and I were met at the airport by Mr. Palini, our driver.  He knew some English and some French as he was from Pondicherry, the former French colony.  As no one had told him what the purpose of our trip was, he immediately started driving us to Mahabalipuram, a famous 7th Century temple ruin south of Chennai.  When we explained to him that no, we were travelling to Chennai to bring a child home, he was confused.  When we told him that the orphanage was in the suburb of Manapakkam, not Mahabalipuram, he was still more confused.  Finally he stopped the car and called his dispatcher, who then got on the phone with me.  Clearly there had been a misunderstanding...We got it worked out and he took us to our hotel....which was a fabulous place. 

We still had about four or five hours to kill, so we decided to freshen up and then go shopping -- my cousin is an Olympic level champion shopper and I love her taste, so I always enjoy our shopping excursions.  Lest you think it strange to shop just before picking up a child at an orphanage, let me assure you that it beat the alternative - wringing my hands in anticipation and churning every imaginable scenario of what could go wrong.  If this doesn't sound like me, clearly you have not spent above 2 minutes with me in person.

After shopping (where I got some beautiful outfits for both Junior and Rain, along with myself, of course), we drove to the orphanage.  Mr. Palini got only a little lost along the way.  

We arrived at the orphanage - which was more of a compound in a not-great-but-not-slummy part of town, painted bright green with a large courtyard in the center.   We entered and I told them who I was - they were expecting me and we were only 15 minutes late (practically early by IST-Indian Standard Time).  I sat down with Suneeta, the adoption coordinator for the orphanage and she explained to us at that time that they were experiencing a power blackout (rolling blackouts are commonplace in India) and also their generator was out of order.  So no aircon, no ceiling fans, and guaranteed sheer misery. 

To those of you who are unfamiliar with the weather in this part of the world, it may not be possible to relate just what a hellhole climatically-speaking is the city of Chennai.  It is  coastal city on the Indian Ocean - with dewpoints in the gozillions and heat topping 95 to 100 degrees much of the year, April being no exception. 

So after signing some paperwork they took us back to see the children.  I had brought along candy and stickers.  My father visited the orphanage last year to see Junior.  When he came back, he told me it was a depressing place.  I have to agree.  The walls, though brightly painted shades of blue and pink and green, were also bare and dirty.  The furniture consisted of two rows of steel cribs and two armoirs.    There was a large open floor area where the children could play.  Junior shared these accomodations with about 7 or 8 other girls who looked to be anywhere from 2 to 5 years old, with the exception of one girl who had severe Down's syndrome and was pretty tall.  My guess is that she was closer to 10 but functioned like a very agressive 5 year old.

All of the children flocked to my cousin and me, all except for Junior that is.  She knew who I was and what I was doing there and wanted nothing to do with it.  That came as no surprise.  She didn't want to leave the only home and family she knew, and the other children did not want to lose her either.  After only a few minutes, once the children devoured candy round #1, one girl walked right up to me and hold up her arms in the universal child's demand to be picked up and held.  The coordinator advised me to hold all of the children one at  time and then Junior would eventually come to me.  I had my doubts but complied and hoped I had enough lice shampoo for both Junior and me if it came to that.  Multiple rounds of candy followed, along with demands that I continually pour glasses of water for them.  The all shared the same glass.  These children must have immune systems of krypton.

Children are always interesting, and these were no exception.  It didn't take long for me to sort out the personalities.  As the ayas (caregivers) led them in song and asked them to demonstrate their knowledge to me, I was struck by how wonderful and tragic a moment I was witnessing.  Many of these children were also bound for new homes overseas like Junior.  But thinking about the loss they have aleady suffered in their short lives, the heartbreaking choices their birth mothers must have made to leave them in the hands of strangers, it makes me choke up every time.  It still bothers me when people tell me how lucky she is; I always respond that it there is any luck involved, then I am the lucky one.  Parents of birth children strive to have children that are resilient and can withstand adversity.  How resilient must a child be, I ask you, to survive what these children must? 

OK - getting off the soapbox now.

During the two hours with the children, feeling soggy, sweaty and filled with anxiety,  I also got my first kisses from Junior along with her first words from her  - "Thank you!" said with that million-dollar smile that you have seen by now. 

Before we could officially leave the orphanage, however, I had to have a sit-down with the orphanage director, Mrs. Maida.  This woman was formidable, and scared me more than a little.  She asked me all sorts of personal questions, some feeling fine and others somewhat invasive: like how old I was, whether I was single (but not why, thank goodness), where I lived, what my work was, etc... When I told her that I had been granted 3 months' leave she was very impressed.  Three cheers for the General! 

Then the conversation turned to how she started at the orphanage, which was really interesting.  She had been in a bad marriage due to abusive mother in law and sisters in law, then tried unsuccessful suicide twice.  "God saved me," she said.  At some point after that, a woman came upon her as she was standing on her verandah - she had also left an abusive marriage, had a new baby and was desperate.  Mrs. Maida counseled her not to harm herself or the baby and invited her to stay the night to think it over.  The women agreed, but left in the middle of the night and left the baby.  When Mrs. Maida tried to find social services for the baby she says there didn't appear to be any so she decided that would be her life's work.  She considered it a calling from god, which doesn't sound too far off the mark. 

She then turned the conversation around to how hard it was to keep the place running, that they had 160 people to feed every day, etc...  I got the distinct feeling that there was no way I was going to get out of that office unless and until I pledged to donate and even become a sponsor.  As a last formality, I was handed a book in which I was to record my visit, its purpose, my feedback about the orphanage, my email adress and (gasp) my Facebook page.  Most of my work friends don't even get my FB.  I told a little fib and said "I'm not on Facebook."  I felt guilty about lying to people doing god's work, but I did pledge to donate to the orphanage now that there would be no appearance of impropriety, so maybe this will record as neutral on my karmic ledger.

 Don't get me wrong, the people there seemed dedicated to these children and their welfare.  This orphanage actually has a lot of other things going on besides being an orphanage.  There is a school for what I am sure are very low income children, a battered women's shelter, and other development programs for women and children.  But I think I need to draw the line at my privacy - the orphanage just doesn't need to know why and wherefore I snark.

At this point I had been following Junior around the orphanage and was now instructed to pick her up, get in the car quickly, shut the door and have the driver  slowly pull away.  People were coming out of every door leading out to the courtyard to say goodbye and Junior started to cry.  I too had a lump in my throat.  She cried for about five minutes, but then stopped, as if she understood that the crying wouldn't do much for her. 

We drove back to the hotel.  She was wearing the classic "airport frock," - a stiff, bright blue number made from cheapest, godawful polyester with gold sequins all over and a ratty pair of Disney sports sandals. 

After Skyping with Rain we took a bath, put on some new clothes (which Junior tried to tell me she did not want, as she kept holding up her and and shaking her head no), and snacked on some fruit and cookies.   The bath did not go without incident - the hotel room's bathroom had only a standup shower, which I am sure she's never seen before.  Seeing a drain in the floor, she squatted down, which I assumed meant she was about to go #1.  Wrong...after a few seconds I realized what was happening - she was taking a dump on the shower floor.  Oh crap.  I picked her up, told her no and put her on the toilet, where she resumed her business.  I was still left with the mess to clean up.  The whole incident was so reminiscent of Rain's first diaper change that I was sure it couldn't have been a coincidence.

We went down for dinner, where Junior consumed an ENORMOUS amount of food, and went to bed.  I was delighted to learn that Junior knew how to brush her teeth and really was potty trained - despite the shower incident (after all, she didn't go in her pants).

Our flight was the next evening, so we passed the day by going to a mall, getting a complimentary foot massage at the hotel, and doing little else.  If all went well we'd be back to the hotel by 10pm.  We had a confirmation of the visa appointment at the US Embassy the the next morning.  

Of course all did not go well.  Out flight was delayed by 90 minutes, and when we were finally allowed to board, the airline put us on a shuttle bus that was packed like sardines.  Junior took one look around and started bawling her head off.  I kindly young man took pity on me and offered up his seat.  We arrived at the plane and then...nothing...it was deathly hot and humid and yet the doors were not opening to let us out and onto the airplane.  Why?  I looked out the window and was incredulous to see that people were still deplaning from the earlier flight!  15 interminable minutes later, Junior never having stopped crying, they opened the doors to let us off.  Of course, once the doors opened she was silent.  The flight took off and upon arriving over Delhi was placed in a holding pattern for 30 minutes.  Of course.  At least Junior slept through most of the flight. 

We finally got to our hotel at midnight on Wednesday night.  Our visa appointment was for 9am the next morning and we needed to leave the hotel by 7:30am according to the nice-but-worry-warty lady who would be escorting us.  Junior was so tired I let her sleep but then we had to rush to get ready, have breakfast and print off a confimation email from the Embassy.  Without it, we wouldn’t get past the front door.  Needless to say, Mrs. Worrywort totally overestimated the time it took to get to the Embassy.  It was early enough that traffic was still pretty light.  So much so that our driver was taking the South New Delhi roundabouts a leetle too fast.  As we neared the US Embassy, Junior lost her breakfast all over me.  I told the driver to pull over and I used half a pack of baby wipes to clean me, Junior and her doll.  We looked ok, but there was nothing we could do about the smell...

The visa appointment went without incident, but the same could not be said for the next hurdle: the medical appointment: Junior had to have a skin TB test – that much we knew about.  What we did not know was that despite having paid my agency to ensure that Junior had all required vaccinations well in advance of my arrival, she still needed a chicken pox shot.  So now Junior had to have two shots instead of one.  The poor kid screamed her head off for the first shot and then, as if it were even possible, screamed louder for the second one.  She was having a rough day...

We returned to the hotel and had a quiet afternoon yesterday.  Today (Friday) has been just the two of us plus meeting the family at a local park.  We had ice cream bars, returned to the hotel for dinner and now Junior is sleeping.  When it's just the two of us, she has been singing, dancing, playing games, and just generally being really adorable...it's when others are around that she really clams up.  I look forward to the day when she has adjusted enough so that others see what I have been - she's a delightful child.

Tomorrow we return to the clinic to have the results of the TB test completed and documented, and the final visa appointment on Monday.  Then leave for home on Wednesday. 

For next time, I will share what the geniuses at KLM did with our return trip reservations...I think tomorrow I need to stop by a temple to dedicated to the Hindu god Ganesh (the one with the elephant head).  He is the remover of obstacles and clearly I need to make an offering.

On the way to meet Junior

Arrived in Delhi Sunday after a "routine" 24 hour journey.  My flights were eventless on on time (the best kind) and I even managed to do a little shopping in the Amsterdam airport.

On the second leg of the journey, I found my seat on the aircraft and met with classic good news- bad news scenario.  The good news: I had been assigned a seat in the "economy comfort" section - you know, the one where theys give you three whole extra inches of leg room (insert woo hoo).  Bad news - middle seat.   Ish -being somewhat broad shouldered this was not great.  Seatmate to my right - young woman who looked like she was in college.  She said not above five words the whole 7 1/2 hour trip.  To the left, a large Dutch man who was traveling in business.  After we finished our meals (and he was on his 3rd of 5 glasses of red wine) we started the chat - or should I say, he held forth and I listened and nodded my head.  He was a nice enough guy.  Though once we finished discussing the ups and downs of doing business in various parts of the world, he then dove headlong into her personal life.  He went on and on...for so long that after a while I felt like I was in a conversational headlock from which release would come only upon landing in New Delhi five hours hence.  Ish...

When he stopped for air I picked up my headphones and said "I think I will finish my movie."  I then proceded to watch two more movies after that as a defense to hearing one more word about the Dutch guy's (much younger) Chinese girlfriend.   Practically ran off the airplane to avoid ending up standing in line next to him in passport controls. 

My nephew and his wife met me at the airport  -- it is so nice to see a familiar face after a long time like this.  By way of explanation - he is not, by a Western tradition, actually a nephew.  He is my first cousin's son.  In most languages of the Indian subcontinent, there is no word for cousin - they are siblings and referred to as brothers and sisters.  Hence their children are your neices and nephews.   I think it's a manifestation of the tradition Indian joint family, where all of the brothers remain in the family home with their wives and children.   The living arrangement is becoming less common in some parts of India - especially in the larger urban areas among the middle class.  To my mind, that means that there is a growing generation of young Indian women who are educated, hold jobs, and do not live under th tyranny of the mother-in-law. 

But I digress.  Checked into my hotel and the next morning my cousin and I took our first (for this trip) power shopping expedition to one of my favorite places to buy textiles in India.  I got outfits for the whole family including matching outfits for Junior and Rain - can't wait to see them wearing them!

So far everything was going smoothly - I called my agency's in-country coordinator to get final details for Tuesday and the rest of the trip.  At that point she told me that we still don't have confirmation of a visa appointment at the Embassy.  So when I got back to my hotel I called my agency and spoke to the India program coordinator.  She told me that in response to her request for the visa appointment, she got a question asking what kind of visa was being requested (which was very concerning, since Embassy personnel have all of the documentation and should know).  As of right now I still don't have confirmation and that is very worrying.  Let's chalk this one up as Drama #1.

Got up a 3:30 am to get ready for a 6:30am flight.   This became Drama #2.  My cousin was to pick me up at 4:45 am to head to the airport, but instead called me and told me that she had been contacted by the airline and told that our flight had been delayed by three hours.  Ah well, sleep is overrated anyway.  As I had already checked out of my room, I went into the 24-hour cafe and had breakfast and soon after that the night manager come to my table and gave me my room key back (the staff at my hotel are really fabulous).  Finished breakfast and went back up to my room - after two cappucinos there was no going back to sleep.  Finally my cousin called me to tell me that she was coming to get me and we'd stop at a park and feed the birds on the way.  So we did.

Once we got to the airport and tried to check in we learned that there had been a SECOND message from the airline that said "Never mind."  Rather that a 3-hour delay, the flight was only delayed 45 minutes.  At this point it was 6:55, and the flight was leaving at 7:15.

One thing about my beloved birth land - nothing ever works fast until it HAS to work fast.  The airline rushed my suitcase, we rushed through Indian airport security (ok - maybe that part was not that fast - but at least the line was short) and then ran to the gate - they were holding the gate open for us and we barely made the flight.  It's an open question whether my suitcase made it - but the flight didn't end up closing its doors until 7:30 so we're thinking it did.  Hope so  - I REALLY need everything in that suitcase...

So right now I am on the flight, which should land in another 90 minutes or so...we check into our hotel, have a little lunch and then head for the orphanage....I am so excited I can hardly stand it...   

On my way...woo hoo!

As my boss would say, there are "woo hoo!" people and there are "not 'woo hoo'" people.  If you have spent any appreciable time around me, you know that I am most definitely a woo-hooer. 

So here I am, sitting in a cafe in the Schipol Airport in Amsterdam with a 4 hour layover, body clock messed up and careering between total excitement and total exhaustion.  I have a feeling that may be "the new normal" for a while.  Woo hoo!

Getting ready for the trip these last few days have been an opportunity to visit that tiny bit of OCD that can sometimes overtake me.  Checked my paperwork at least 5 times (maybe more) and obsessed over everything. Lice shampoo?  Check. Mosquito repellent?  Check.  Baby wipes? Aspirin? Nail clipper? Books? Toys? Downloads from iTunes?  Malaria meds?  Meds to deal with the side effects of malaria meds?  Check, check, check x 20.    Woo hoo!

As I neared travel dates I decided that there was no better  time to get a completely new outfit for the trip - so raced to the Ridgedale Mall one afternoon after work before bringing Rain home from a play date.  Then decided the shoes I was going to wear would just not do for the outfit I just got, so naturally had to shop again... Woo hoo!

Finally, the morning came and I checked my multi page checklist, found a few more things to throw in the suitcase, went out for pancakes and then went off to the airport.  Woo hoo!

I was pleasantly surprised that my requested Asian vegetarian meal was actually on the plane and even more impressed a that it was actually pretty good.  What was more interesting was breakfast...after travelling internationally for work you get accustomed to things like business class, courteous service, and not being packed in like so many commuters on a Japanese commuter train (no professional pushers, at least).  At breakfast the flight attendant all but threw a breakfast sandwich and banana at passengers as she flew down the aisle.  I barely managed to catch mine, owing to my now-paralyzed limbs after 7 hours in a coach class seat.   Woo hoo...sort of...well not relly, just trying to stay optimistic...

Looking forward to a day in New Delhi to get my bearings and grateful my hotel has a pool and a spa - I may partake before heading down to Chennai on Tuesday.  Woo hoo!

More to come!  Til then, may you too be a woo hooer!