Coming Home

It's November 6th, which means tomorrow I will be on a plane back to California. And I can't wait. It is very rare for me to want to stop traveling - once I get going I don't want to stop. But this time, I am very much looking forward to water that won't give me parasites or gastrointestinal problems, bland food (oatmeal is the stuff of my daydreams), and a comfy wonderful bed that is not on the floor (Tokyo - futons - 'nuff said).

This month has been amazing, shocking, surprising and sublime. And I've written it all down in my travel journal - this cool Italian leather, hand bound book I bought in Oxford (way better than Borders!). I've used up 4 pens and almost all the pages of this book, so there is a lot to tell. I will spend the next couple weeks transcribing what is in there to this blog, so we will be traveling back in time and go through my trip chronologically: From Oxford, to India, to Tokyo.

And maybe a few postcards from my Tummy, who has had a lot to say on this trip and needs a forum of its own to voice its opinions.

Edit: I know my blog says it's November 5th, but Japan lives in the future (true on so many levels, but also literally). So for me, right now, it's the 6th.

Travel Prep

Behold the rejected travel journals:I went to Borders the other day to try to find a travel journal. But they were all wrong. The covers were pretty, but too flimsy and bendable. They'd never survive in my bag. Others were too small, some were too big. None were just right. So all I got from Borders was an inflatable travel pillow (which is terrible - hard to blow-up, uncomfortable when blown) and a pack of empty travel sized liquid bottles that are impossible to fill with liquid. Seriously, they each have a tiny pin-prick of a hole and nothing to unscrew to pour liquid in. I chucked those, but kept the cute plastic travel bag and used the empty bottles from last year's trip to England. Borders is totally on my Sh*tList.

Behold my month's worth of clothes. 10 pairs of underwear, 3 sweaters, five light shirts, 1 pair of long underwear, 2 pairs of capri pants, 1 pair of wool pants, 1 scarf, 1 bra, 1 pair of walking sandals, a lot of socks, and 1 pair of tights. Then there are bags of deet wipes, wet wipes, toilet wipes, toilet paper (travel size!), iodine tablets, medications of various kinds, my hairbrush and my passport. That's not including what I'll be wearing on the plane: 1 big blue coat, 1 scarf, 1 tank top, 1 sweater, 1 pair of blue jeans, 1 pair of socks and my Naot walking shoes (amazing, google them, they are so cool). See, Oxford's wettest month is October. It's around 50-60 degrees and raining all day. India is 80-90 degrees and sunny. Tokyo is 50-60 degrees.
And yes, it all fits. And YES, I will be washing these things during my trip. I'm not that gross!

My plane takes off at 4:30pm today, and I have to get ready to go. Next post will be from Oxford. First thing on my list is to get a pair of Wellies and a proper travel journal.

Instant Messages from the East: Advice for traveling Goris

You know what girls do when they get together – they talk about boys and clothes. Instant Message conversations with my Indian friend are no different… well, maybe a little different. She has been giving me a lot of good advice for my trip to India, that is now only a week away. And here is her advice on Men:

Never go out alone with any male person.
I was telling my friend you were visiting, asking her if we knew ANYONE in Delhi, and we don’t. She was like “is she white?”, and I said Yep. She says “She should watch out. Men think white women are game for anything.”

My friend says, I’m glad you’ll have a brigade of women with you.

I’m glad too, and they’re mostly 50 and 60 year old women, so I should be well guarded. Even so, a 5’9” blonde is going to get attention. To this, my friend replies:

Well, it won’t be too bad because plenty of you [white chicks] have been there before....AND
Julia Roberts is filming Eat, Pray, Love there now in Delhi, I think.

I’ll spare you the amount of IM laughing I typed at this, since I am reading Eat,Pray,Love right now and have not been un-critical of it.

My friend continues: and to get back. Indian men are...different.
Some are very very well, respectful and nice. Overall they all are very shy and wont do anything.
But somehow they lose control when they see white people.
me: srsly?
My friend: It’s because of what I call the Baywatch syndrome. That show reached every village.
My cousins can’t talk English...but they all gathered around the tv to watch Baywatch.
My bro and I were young and got a kick out of that fact.

Things have changed now with the younger generation because a lot come to the U.S. to study and stuff.
And Delhi is a metro city so you have nothing to worry about. BUT you have a spectrum of people so, it’s always good to be alert and careful.

In talking about clothes, I learned a few good words to know:
LOTS of goris wear Indian clothes in India.. they have tailors too..who can stitch in hours.. but you can def purchase readymade.
GORIS = white women
GORAS= white men
PHIRANGI = foreigners

Prelude to India

Why would anyone want to go to India?

This is the question people ask me, in various forms, when I tell them about all the preparations I have had to make to go to India—including bracing myself for inevitable stomach upsets. I been vaccinated for Hepatitis A, Tetanus and Diptheria. I have bottles of Cipro and Metronidazole for bacterial infections and the giardia parasite respectively. I have Deet to ward of mosquitos carrying malaria or the West Nile virus, and iodine tablets to purify the water – partially. Iodine doesn’t catch everything. So why, my friends ask, am I going to a place where I can’t brush my teeth with the tap water? Where beggar women with shriveled babies and empty milk bottles will tug at my clothes on the street? Why would anyone want to go to India?

I honestly can’t explain all my reasons, and I certainly can’t claim they make sense or are based on logic. I’m not going to India with any other purpose than just being there and seeing it for myself. I’m not going seeking enlightenment, or charitable works, or shopping, or even food (and food is my primary motivation for everything).

I think that maybe the appeal is in my blood, ingrained in my mostly British genetics. The British have always loved India, so much that they wanted it and took it for themselves. I can’t help but think of this act of imperialism as a dysfunctional love story. The allure of the orient was irresistible to the stodgy and overdressed Brits. Was it the tea that drew the English to the perilous shores of India? Was it the spicy food that made them brave dysentery and the hostile populous? What made them stay so long in a country where the mindset, culture, and hygiene of the natives were so different and contrary to their own? As in any relationship, the Brits wanted to change what they saw as the bad habits of their beloved, and as in any relationship, that backfired. But they still stayed and tried to make it work long after they knew it was over. Even though the breakup between the two nations was ugly and fraught with bad feelings, I think that infatuation is still there for the English. I know it is there for me.

But why?

When I think of India, never having been there, I see colors. Saffron, the burnt orange soil, lime green jungle growth, women in saris dyed like sherbet ice cream. I smell dust, nag champa incense, patchouli and body odor – hey, if the mind can have an eye, it can have a nose also. I hear the pitches of the women’s voices trickle up and down the vocal scale sounding so beautiful and appealing – I heard some Indian women on my old commuter train and they spoke like this; their speech was music and men were captivated. In India, there are monkeys, cows and elephants, even camels. Isn’t that amazing? Isn’t that exciting?

Really, if you think of India in those terms, who wouldn’t want to go?

Santa Ynez Coffee Co. aka. Attempt #2

Don't ask me why this is center aligned. I don't know. My browser and blogger have been acting weird ever since I opened them in this coffee shop. I tried to change the alignment and it will not change. But, other than the peculiar effects on my computer, this is a better coffee shop than yesterday's for writing. Bright light comes in from two walls of windows, the AC is on, there is a plug in the wall for my computer, and they have really lovely unsweetened passion fruit iced tea (I overdosed on coffee yesterday). And -- they have the most amazing delicious juicy paninis on the planet. I took a picture of them, but I forgot to put my memory card back in my camera from uploading the last picture and can't figure out how to transfer the panini picture from the camera's internal memory to something I can use. This coffee shop seems to foster technical difficulties.

There are high school age kids here - nice, conservative, quiet and uniformely white. There are older men and women here too - nice, conservative, quiet and uniformely white. I'm going to take a wild guess and say they all go to the same church too. That's the thing that has always creeped me out about this place. As nice as this coffee shop is with its country music, western decor and big comfy couch, it is populated almost entirely with the Valley's Presbyterians. I've seen many Bible study groups meet here over the years. But, they make a damn good panini.

Back to work for me - and I'll see if I can re-align this post later.

Update: If you think I'm exagerating about the prevalence of Presbyterians, the three nice quiet highschoolers are currently discussing who is and who is not "Christian" (and who is pretending not to be Christian - whatever that means). Good God, I am so glad I'm out of high school.

The Hunt for the Perfect Coffee Shop - attempt #1

I'm in the coffee shop that used to be Thanks A Latte in Buellton. That's how it is in small towns. Locals get accustomed to one name, and that name is forever attached to the establishment, no matter how many times it changes hands or changes names. So this is the place that used to be Thanks A Latte, and even though I'm sitting here now, I have no idea what the current name is.

I'm sitting in the back with a view of the front door and counter. Not only is this a power position in Feng Shui, but it's very handy for knowing who is coming and going. This is important in a small town; there's a good chance I'll know the people who come in. But around noon on a Thursday, I'm just hoping to find some peace. I don't know if this is THE coffee shop - you know the one. The one where I can go and focus gloriously on work in a hip environment that feeds me creative energy through coffee, music and overheard chatter. Right now the loudest sound is coming from the refrigeration unit in the Snapple machine. Damn Snapple. The hum is annoying, but the "world music" is just about right. Though there are some frenchish/tangoish songs that always make me feel like a comedic mime - and those play here sometimes too. Something about that kind of accordian music makes me spill things, break things, trip, and become a total destructive klutz. I almost smashed my paper coffee cup while trying to put the lid on, all because of the frenchish/tangoish accordian music.

But, overall, this isn't a bad spot to hole up and work in. Speaking of which, I am off to do just that. Work. I have quite a bit of work to do this week, which is utterly fantastic.

Spicemonkey is getting all the love these days

If you want to know what I've been up to - look at SpiceMonkey. Seriously, cooking and cleaning up after I cook is all I've been doing, and it has been fabulous. I might have to slow down for the next week since I have some writing work to do (tough life, I know) and a horse to exercise, but a sourdough loaf is still on my to do list. Making bread is tricky, so if you don't see a beautiful picture of fresh baked bread on Spicemonkey within the next few days, that's because I will have failed in my mission. Will it be bread, or will it be a brick? Stay tuned to find out.

Hotel Del Coronado

San Diego is such a beautiful city. When crossing the bridge to Coronado island, it looks a lot like Tokyo with the bays, bridges, boats and towering modern skyline. Coronado is more quaint than the fantasyland of Odaiba though. Every street has renovated Victorian, mock-Tudor, Greek revival and Spanish style houses - but the crowning glory is the Hotel Del.Charles and I came here last weekend during the 50th anniversary of the filming of "Some Like it Hot" with Tony Curtis and Marilyn Monroe. In fact, the day we were there, the hotel was hosting An Evening with Tony Curtis - but we didn't spot him. We did, however, spot these two in their very formal bathing attire.The beach at The Del glitters with gold dust. I've never seen anything like it. It's as if a kid dumped ten tons of craft sparkles over the sand.We walked around the expensive shops selling overpriced clothing and jewelry, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I smelled caramel and chocolate from the chocolate shop. If you're going to spend money at the Del, spend it here (and not at the crummy ice-cream place; it looks like good ice-cream, but isn't).

Yes, these were expensive too. And fattening. So I took a picture - it lasts longer and has no calories. Then we went to the aforementioned ice-cream shop, which was a mistake. No pictures of the ice-cream, we tasted, we said "Blech!" and threw it out (though not before Charles' ice-cream cone melted all over his hands). An imperfect ending to an otherwise glorious day.

Google Analytics

After two years of blogging, I listed AnglophileinLA on Google Analytics to see if anyone besides my immediate family reads this thing. I know, I know, that's really un-tech savvy of me to have waited this long. But really, this blog has had two purposes for me - as a resume supplement for my writing, and for my own enjoyment. And my mom likes it.

I opened up Google Analytics today and found this: 126 visits from the United States (thanks mom); 14 visits from the United Kingdom; 14 visits from Brazil...; 5 visits from Germany; 4 from France; 4 from Poland; 3 from Argentina; 3 from Spain; 3 from Canada; and 2 from Lithuania.

A total of 204 visits. And I just started tracking last week.

So, to my mysterious visitors: Welcome! And I have some questions. Why did you click on this site? What were you hoping or expecting to find?

Google Analytics torments me. I want to know what people find interesting about my blog. Why, why do they come? And why aren't my friends in Japan reading my blog? Huh?