August 17, 2008 - Saying goodbye is such a hard thing for me. Leaving Seattle--leaving the U.S.--for India was tough, especially when there was so much to do, so many loose ends and tighter deadlines. So in earnest I promised a blog of my adventures. Easy, no? Perhaps for some, but being from a generation (yes, I am old enough to pitifully glom on to a generation) that would say most anything, but hardly everything--and not to everyone--this is a challenge. But even now, this post is so much cute navel-gazing and "how do I start this whole Blog process?" I am already too busy looking at myself looking at everyone looking at what I write. Nonsense, enough.Sunday night, I am sitting in my home office. Middle of the Indian Monsoons. Today it rained for an hour with pound down ferocity. A hot steamy rain. It soaks clothing so quickly that I'm startled. I had to get money out of an ATM and ran from the cover of our car to the outside strip mall (worn from use, smelly, and every bit the hub of local activity). I ran through inches deep brown water, hiking up my pants and trying not to fall on the wet marble--perhaps the cracks, ruts and divots prevented slippage. I was soaked the minute I left the car, feeling greasy from the humid rain and the brown water. But the water is welcomed in Delhi--the source of sustenance through the more arid fall and winter months, until the mountain snows of the Himalayas swell the rivers and flood plains. So it's just fine, and I am quickly back in a dry, cool car, with my family.
I have some new furniture in my office. New old furniture. It's Burmese Teak and it has a fragrance that is all around Delhi. Isaac has a bookshelf that smells like a scrubbed skunk. At first it repels and then it sinks in and spices the back of your throat and feels substantial.
4 comments:
great post Georgia! Your fans back home in Seattle await more reports on the transition and adventures in India!
I like the scrubbed skunk. You might want to identify yourself as the writer, mark. Just an idea.
Mark, count me in as one of many who look forward to your navel-gazing in New Delhi. Remember that most of us have never been to India, so your clever musings on what is same old, everyday life in New Delhi will keep our attention longer than blogging, say, about living next to Green Lake. Cultural sensitivity question: does modesty require shoulders to be covered, but not navels?
This is how and what I wish I would hope to write if I got an opportunity like this. Keep it, with pictures, please ;-)
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