Make Love Not War

Last Wednesday I woke up long before dawn to pack a few remaining things, suck down some coffee, and say goodbye to my home away from home. My tio walked me to the corner and knocked on the window of a taxi to wake up the sleeping driver. We said goodbye one last time and as soon as I closed the taxi door my eyes welled up with tears. Seems to get harder and harder each time I leave Veracruz.

The bus to Mexico City was mercifully quiet for the first two hours until an American pirate movie, dubbed in Spanish, blared from the speakers directly overhead. Sleep was impossible after that, so I just stared out the window and thought about all the people I was leaving behind.

I arrived at the airport in DF without incident and with plenty of extra time, but managed to nearly miss my flight to Detroit anyway. A last-minute gate change coupled with my clouded mental state conspired to get me stuck in Mexico. Fortunately at the last minute I boarded an empty flight to Detroit, exhausted and relieved, where I promptly fell asleep.

Re-entry to the US is never easy for me, often provoking feelings of anger or frustration. But this time was a little different. When I saw the copious amounts of snow on the airport runway in Detroit, I felt overwhelming sadness, but sadness of an unknown origin.

Finally in DC around 10:30pm, the biting wind and frigid temperatures convinced me to suck it up and pay for a cab ride. Hamid the taxi driver was a friendly Indian man who offered to take me home to Bombay and make me his wife, but there was a catch: I would have to become a Muslim. I thanked him for his kind offer but assured him that I was barely becoming Catholic and besides, my flight was to Delhi. He wrote down his number anyway, just in case I should change my mind.

The incident reminded me of the stark contrast between courtship rituals in India and Mexico; Marriage in India is a straightforward matter wherein an offer is made, an agreement reached and a contract signed. Courtship in Mexico is decidedly more messy, involving love and passion and uncertainties. I'm not yet sure which is more appealing.

Five days in DC passed quickly and Monday I boarded yet another flight to Long Beach, CA. As luck would have it, I sat next to a beautiful Lebanese woman who reminded me of Audrey Hepburn, and we became fast friends. If only I had met her when I lived there! She talked about her 23 year old daughter who wants to travel to India, so I gave her my email she invited me to go to Lebanon, a fantasy I would give my left arm to realize. We agreed that life works in mysterious ways.

My first order of business in California was to acquire a coconut creme pie. I am determined to enjoy all my culinary favorites while I'm here, including sushi, Korean food, and any fresh vegetable that still resembles its natural form.

Today is VD Day, aka Valentine's Day or the Day of Love and Friendship. I woke up to a clear blue sky, a $40 parking ticket, and my long-anticipated root canal.

The root canal took less time than I expected, and my dentist even positioned a mirror above me so I could observe all the fun. As soon as he opened up my tooth it gushed blood like a geyser! In the past, I would have been crying and hyperventilating, but instead I was morbidly fascinated, and even though it was quite revolting, I couldn’t look away. Apparently, I have toughened up considerably in the last few years.

The doctor seemed to agree, “You’re not a fluffball. You look like one, but you’re not.” Easily the sweetest Valentine’s Day gift I’ve ever received.

But that’s not all! The final perk was the envelope of Vicodin I got to take home...now I'm at home, stoned on painkillers and feeling quite pleased with myself, indeed.Tomorrow I head back to LA for more India preparations.

much love to all,

LMA
Self-Appointed
American Goodwill Ambassador