Aside from eating my weight in pooris, parathas, and naan, you mean…? Well, I’m glad you asked. One morning, while struggling to keep my pants from bursting at the seams, I was given a covered glass of water to drink. Of course, naively, I uncovered it and started drinking. Was I thirsty? No. In a world where I understand roughly 35% of what’s going on at any given time, I just do what I’m told. So, I take a sip or two and then ask my husband, “What’s special about this water?”
"It’s blessed" he says. (How? Where did it come from? Who blessed it? All good questions to which I have no answers. It was just an ordinary glass sitting on my in-laws’ ordinary table.)
His mother says something in Urdu.
"Oh. And it’s good for making babies." He says. Nonchalantly.
And that was that.
Snoop Dogg and Martha Stewart
I love this.
Some favorite wedding moments: we snuck a kiss (since kissing is kind of a no-no in Pakistani weddings), we got the dance floor going, all of our amazing friends and family formed a circle around us for an impromptu first dance, we cut the cake - but no one saw, one of my oldest and dearest friends made a speech, my childhood/high school friends were there, and so were my college friends (M. flew all the way from Korea to be there!), and we danced the Cupid Shuffle. Sigh. Can we have another wedding yet?
This, times 20, was my wedding.
This morning I almost left the house with my button-down shirt inside-out. How does this happen??
I haven’t posted any pictures from India yet! But since I’m getting super excited for a reunion/delicious food fest with my fellow travelers, I thought I’d quickly post one. At some point I’ll get around to posting more.
Just some dudes. Walking around the market.
How do you pack for southern Mexico and upstate New York in one carry-on? In December, I should add… So far I have a stack of tshirts, moccasins, flipflops, boots and a winter jacket. I feel slightly schizophrenic.
One unusual thing (of many) about being part of an intercultural relationship/family is that you start to think of yourself as being obviously a part of that culture. And can’t understand why other people are surprised when you act accordingly. When I started quizzing my newly engaged classmate about his walima (will they have one? Where? Colors??) and mendhi, he - well being a dude he didn’t really have the answers I was looking for, but he also gave me some pretty confused looks: what is this gori girl talking about??
I also get really offended when waiters in Indian restaurants assume I know nothing about Indian food (one once told me I would hate baigan bharta and that I should really go for tikka masala instead. Of course, having no backbone, I did what he said). Why can’t these guys tell from looking at me that I make a mean dahl and a chicken curry that is too spicy even for me?? People really need to learn to read my mind…
Um…. This is my new favorite thing ever.