Did I Say I Was Going to Write Something?

I thought I did.  My dilemma is only where I begin when the trip has, clearly, already begun.  It seems to me, Right Now is always a good place to start.  I'm pretty exhausted.  I've just returned from the first part of the wedding celebration.  There was an engagement ceremony for the family yesterday, but most of the day today we were with Shohbit's family, the groom's side. There was a lovely Indian breakfast, and quite soon after that we had mendi done on our hands and wrists.  This is otherwise known as henna tattoos in the US.  We weren't supposed to pick it off once it dried, but of course I obsessively began to do just that.  It looks amazing, but for whatever reason has begun to smell kind of funky.  I'm not liking the smell at the moment. Perhaps it's the oil we put on it after the stuff dried up and flaked off.  I think I'll be washing my hands tonight.  I hope to get a few photos posted as soon as I can. 

I feel as though I should be expressing something profound, but I would rather call the boys and others. 

I really think I could live here if the people I love were here as well.  This is not the way Sallee feels.  Having many people ask us directly, "What do you think of India?" or "How is your trip going?"  brings a pause because she and I have different answers to this question.  Sallee says, "India is an interesting place."   I believe I'm responding with, "I love it."  Because I do.  I love being just about anywhere as long as I'm not afraid and know I can talk to someone.  Especially when I can talk to someone I love.  Isn't that possible anywhere?  It seems to me in some strange way, it is.  

Sallee said to me this evening as the dancing was wrapping up, "I have less than 48 hours left here now."  

And I asked her, "Does that make you sad?"  

She responded, "Are you kidding?  I'm counting down.  I want to be home.  I miss my family."

I miss my family, too, but I'd rather have them here experiencing this with me.  I think I might be annoying Sallee with the way I can fall asleep just about anywhere, too.  I woke up and realized my mouth was probably hanging open like a dog at the end of the evening while we waited for a driver to take us back to the home we are staying in.  Nice.  Love it when I look like that.  But I did get to sleep a bit.  

The dancing was great.  The outfits and colors and jewelry were amazing.  There is no such thing as too much jewelry at an Indian wedding.  Shailija told me this before I left Salt Lake City and then added, "You'll see."  yes, there is no such thing as too much.  I found myself wanting to be decked out as much as any of them and in a fuschia, gold and turquoise sari with a dance to amaze everyone.  (I did not look remotely like that.)  I also had to laugh at myself because I really do believe I must have lived at least a few lives over here . . . . while I watched the women doing the traditional dances for everyone I was oddly reminded of some of the weird shit I could come up with in high school when the music got me going and my girlfriends and I weren't in a circle doing the back & forth goofy bouncing thing from the 80's.  If I was sort of off on my own I think my hands were spinning up and down doing all sorts of freaky things I didn't care about.  For those of you who were there, please do let me know if I'm imagining this, or if I really did stand out oddly on the dance floor from time to time?  The women at the wedding did not look odd, or freakish, or weird.  Their expressiveness was alluring, whether it was from a seventy-something year old, or a twelve year old using a Bollywood mix of tunes to convey the story of Shohbit's "affair."  These are the words of the 12 year old, later on as we talked together during dinner . . . . .  her music told the story of Shohbit's "affair."  Of course, the words in the music were Hindu, so I didn't get the story.  But from her dance, I can tell you there was a lot of   come here . . . run away . . . come here . . . run away . . . come here . . . over here, cutie pie, over here . . .   stuff like that.     You know, just like home. 

I know this is all over the place.  But that feels like me right now, so that isn't such a bad representation.  I want to mention how wonderful it felt to be in London for the day.  At about 6:30 p.m. when I was taking the Tube back to Heathrow, and I was standing on one of those steep escalators, it felt like I could have just as easily been taking the Tube back to my flat somewhere not too far away, somewhere on the other side of the city.  I found myself saying, "Sorry" in that funny little lilt, so fast it was almost scary.  Just trying to get around the people at the reception tonight, I heard the English, "sorry" pop out of my mouth without thinking about it.  I love London despite all its gray days.  

I need this trip.  Birdsong is gorgeous everywhere.