Dilliwala Dents

It’s been one week since Tony and I joined the teeming masses of the Dilliwala – the almost 17 million residents of Delhi. We can now be counted among the 1.1 billion (with a B!) people who make India home.

When we accepted our jobs at the American Embassy School here back in February, the headmaster told us, “Whatever is true about India, the opposite is also true.” We have seen this first-hand every day since we stepped off the plane. For example: Our first-floor apartment (which is actually on the second floor if you speak American English) is located in a posh Southwest New Delhi neighborhood with tree-lined streets, lovely parks and spacious gated homes manned by around-the-clock security guards. However, our building backs up to a sprawling slum, which is hidden from view by a large fence. During the day, a steady parade of slum-dwellers streams past in the adjoining alley, but they seem to disappear when they reach the main road. We hardly sense their presence except for the sound of chatter, laughter or crying babies. Our up-market neighborhood also serves as home to several cows that roam freely during the day. In a country where cows are sacred, these cows have it especially good. Although the houses and apartments appear huge and clean, often with lovely courtyards or gardens, the streets are in disrepair and feature occasional piles of sand or bricks dumped for someone’s construction project. The juxtapositions are never-ending and surreal.

We arrived in New Delhi last Sunday night after meeting many of the other new teachers at the Chicago airport (they were easy to spot as we had been told to wear our navy AES polo shirts). School administrators picked us up and took us to our apartment, where workers carried all eight of our boxes and bags upstairs for us.

What a nice surprise to see a traditional brass nameplate on the door!
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In the foyer, we encountered a little welcome mat, which turned out to be an artform called “rangoli” created in colored rice! Unfortunately, we only figured this out by stepping on it and messing up the design.
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Here’s Tony in front of our building.
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As we wait for our shipment to arrive, we make regular trips to a nearby shopping area to buy household necessities. It’s a nice place with two western-style grocery stores and many high-end shops … and the requisite cows.
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So here’s a little video tour of our apartment. Hmmm … I filmed this with my iPad, which I’ve never done before, and I just realized I created a very skinny video. Well, too bad. I’m jetlagged and exhausted, so I’m just going to post the silly thing rather than try to figure it out.

Artsy Fartsy in Detroit

We only have one more full day in America before heading to our new jobs and lives in New Delhi, India. There’s so much to do: packing, cleaning, winterizing, etc. Or… I could procrastinate and write a quick blog post.

I totally spaced off writing about our visit to the Detroit Institute of Arts.

Tony and I spent much of a day here recently, and we didn’t even see half of the museum! It’s fantastic. The exhibits were brilliant with fascinating interpretive displays that added great depth to our experience. Many signs featured a print of a particular painting with highlighted parts explained or analyzed. Some described the artist’s technique; others placed the artwork in its historical context.

When we visited the information counter, the lady said, “You must know about Rivera Court.” Instead of saying, “Hmmm… no, what’s that?” I just muttered, “Uh-huh.” So we walked into Rivera Court absolutely unprepared. Here’s what the museum’s website says about it:

The Detroit Industry fresco cycle was conceived by Mexican muralist Diego Rivera (1886–1957) as a tribute to the city’s manufacturing base and labor force of the 1930s. Rivera completed the twenty-seven panel work in eleven months, from April 1932 to March 1933. It is considered the finest example of Mexican mural art in the United States, and the artist thought it the best work of his career.
Rivera was a Marxist who believed that art belonged on public walls rather than in private galleries. He found his medium in the fresco, where paint is applied to wet plaster. Its vast size allowed him to explore grand and complex themes, which would be accessible to a large audience. In Mexico, Rivera’s murals tied modern Mexican culture to its indigenous roots, revealing the ancient Indian cultures as Mexico’s true heritage. Similarly, Rivera’s Detroit Industry murals depict industry and technology as the indigenous culture of Detroit.

When we crossed the threshold into Rivera Court, a docent approached us with an iPad. It was loaded with wonderful videos about Diego Rivera and his work, including an interactive map of the murals. You could click on a part of the mural to get a video about that specific section. I could have stayed there for days!

We “think” we’ll be back!

The Hossacks are Heeeeeere!

Our special friends Scott, Amy and Blake Hossack made their second annual pilgrimage from Canada to Lake Orion today. We taught with them in Shanghai and love them to bits. When my mom and sister visited us in Shanghai, they also got to know the fabulous Hossack family, so they joined us for a little lakeside reunion.

The Hossacks came to Michigan last summer and spent Christmas with us in Laos, so we had planned to return the favor before leaving for New Delhi. Unfortunately, I still don’t have my passport back from the Indian consulate, which means I can’t cross the border into Canada. Drat!

Despite the heat advisory, we did the usual stuff: fed the fish, waded in the lake, floated around on the raft, and took the paddle boat out for a spin. Such a nice day with such wonderful people!

The boys head out on the paddle boat.

Kate and the kids throw bread to the fish and try to attract some ducks.

Cooling off with freezy pops.

Blake and Paul play basketball with the fishnet.

Group hug!

Tony falls asleep while watching a show with Blake.

Glassmen All-Star Review

The Glassmen of Toledo recently celebrated their 50th anniversary, but until that day I had never heard of them. Now I can say I have. And “heard of them” is the just the right phrase because their sound blew me away.

My brother-in-law, John, had invited us to attend a drum-and-bugle-corps show, an annual event sponsored by the Glassmen. I thought it was his college’s marching band and that this evening would be a typical football half-time show. In fact, the Glassmen audition young people from all over the world every year to fill the 150 performance spots on the team. According to the Glassmen website,

“A typical rehearsal day includes 6-10 hours of rehearsal, depending on whether or not there is an evening performance. After a competition, the corps usually loads the trucks and buses and heads out for the next show or rehearsal site, anywhere from a three to ten hour drive away. The corps usually competes in over 40 competitions during the summer, and also performs at various parades, concerts, and exhibitions. The GLASSMEN season begins with our home show in June, the ALL-STAR REVIEW in Toledo, and ends with the DCI World Championships in mid-August…”

The Glassmen’s 50th anniversary celebration took place in conjunction with the All-Star Review, an annual fundraiser for the corps which we attended July 8 on the campus of Bowling Green State University, south of Toledo. Eight teams participating in the Drum Corps International Summer Tour, including the Glassmen, competed at the event. The music was spectacular, as I expected it would be, but the real surprise was the theatrical nature of the performances. The musicians, dancers and members of the flag corps created dramatic stories that poured across the football field in a polished highly entertaining professional-caliber show.

Sometimes the music got a bit loud for Paul. His best line of the day came when one of the teams brought out some long iridescent poles for twirling. Unable to pronounce “st,” Paul shouted (during a lull in the music), “They have big dicks!”

Nico spent most of the evening drawing, but he took an occasional break to appreciate the performance.

The Cavaliers of Indiana came in first place (the Glassmen placed fourth).

John played the contrabass bugle (aka tuba) with the Glassmen in 1994 and 95, so he joined other alumni on the field to sing the corps song with this year’s team at the end of the show. We were so proud!
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I really wanted to share the feeling of this show via video, but we were warned repeatedly that videotaping wasn’t allowed. I can’t even find footage on YouTube. Bummer.

Summer ‘o’ swimming

My little nephews love to swim – at my parents’ pool or at our lake. Nico wears his swim mask in and out of the water. And Paul, who will be 3 in September, has started tossing off his floaties to get serious in the water. Summer vacation … ahhhhh!

Kate made a surprise appearance modeling our mom’s water aerobics gear.

Boys and their toys.

Playing “catch” with Nico as the ball.

Paul hitches a ride.

Britt enjoys a moment of serenity.

Nico loves his mask!

One hail of an Independence Day party

As an oldest child with admitted control issues and a progressively worsening case of obsessive-compulsive disorder, I am a list-making, plan-following organizer who is not a big fan of spontaneity. However, sometimes when the rest of the world goes off-script, it turns out better than expected. Our Fourth of July celebration at Lake Orion (which actually took place on the Second of July) was one of those times.

We had invited the usual motley crew – my family and a few family friends. We had the awesome Deluxe Screened Gazebo filled with lawnchairs, beach towels, and lake toys. We had purchased a button-popping amount of food and drinks. I had spent hours chopping for my gargantuan veggie platter. I had picked up a chocolate cake with buttercream frosting from Kroger’s (my most missed snack when I’m overseas) with frosting-inscribed birthday wishes for America. As the day progressed, the kayak and paddle boat were getting a good workout, and the brats were on the grill. All was going according to the usual July 4th agenda.

John poses next to my beautiful veggie platter.

The men fire up the grill.

Nico and Mike fish from the dock.

Britt takes Paul out for a ride.

Suddenly, the sky went dark and a bit green. Surely it was about to rain. Should we take down the Deluxe Screened Gazebo? Nah, said my dad. My brother-in-law, John, swore he didn’t mind grilling in the rain. Cool.

Next thing we knew, marble-sized hail rained down with gale-force winds, pelting everyone and filling the Deluxe Screened Gazebo’s roof with ice balls until a plastic joint cracked into pieces, and the whole lovely thing collapsed in a heap. While we ladies watched from the dry dining room, our brave men salvaged our belongings and frolicked in the hail. John even continued tending to our dinner, risking a concussion.

Check out the video!

Our lakeside picnic moved indoors, but just as we sat down to eat, our power went out. This was status quo for us in Laos, but we weren’t as prepared for an electricity-free evening in America. We lit our few candles, but I scooped out cake and ice cream in virtual darkness.

The storm passed in about an hour, but our power didn’t return until around 1 a.m.

Paul picks up all the hail.

Eventually, we paraded to the lakefront to watch the fireworks show, but it also fizzled. According to the gossip mill, (a) one of the barges caught fire and a technician was badly injured, or (b) the power outage precluded setting off the cannons. A fireworks do-over is scheduled for tonight.

We had planned a sleep-over with my sisters, their hubbies and the nephews, but nobody seemed excited about staying with no power, so they all traipsed back to my parents’ house. It was too dark to clean up, and I didn’t want to keep opening the fridge to put away our few leftovers, so Tony and I just crashed on our basement sofa-bed (where the temperature was about 30 degrees cooler than upstairs).

When we got up the next morning, we walked drop-jawed into the kitchen. It looked like a bear had ransacked the place overnight. Cauliflower left on the countertop had stunk up the entire house. Frosting coated my toaster and coffee maker. Chip dip caked the kitchen island and chairs. Piles of sopping wet towels dotted the floor among scattered leaves, sticks and dirt tracked in during the storm. You would have thought we had a kegger frat party instead of a family gathering with mostly 40-to-60-somethings. There was nothing to do but laugh and clean.

Although I’m sad about the Deluxe Screened Gazebo’s demise, I have to admit the storm added a fun twist to an otherwise run-of-the-mill Fourth of July celebration.

Flare Night Done Right

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” – George Santayana, The Life of Reason, 1905, making an observation about the development of human intelligence.

“Didja hear about those dumb**s newcomers on Bellevue Island who lit their flares too early?” – everyone at Lake Orion, Michigan, July 2010, referring to our bungling of the Flare Night tradition. (See details at https://www.dentsadventure.com/?p=1358)

July 1st was Flare Night. We were determined to do it up right this year. I even insisted on buying an awesome Deluxe Screened Gazebo,” which Tony and I erected early in the day. Piece of cake.

Yeah, Tony did most of the work.

The Deluxe Screened Gazebo was a big hit!

Our neighbors, Kim and David, have property that juts out into the water with perfect views of the red lakerimeter glow, so they throw a big Flare Night party every year. Their home dates to 1901 and captures the spirit of Americana we feel on this Independence Day weekend.

Kim’s Kandy Store was the highlight of the night for the kids.

The rest of us didn’t get the memo about wearing lime green polo shirts. Our neighbor Mark and my dad (right) apparently did.

Unlike last year, we waited until 10 p.m. to light our flares. We had a good condescending laugh at some new residents across the cove whose flares blazed crimson in premature isolation. Dummies. (It’s so nice not to be THOSE people for once.)

John and Tony light our flares.

The view from our front porch.

We popped back over to the neighbor’s peninsula for a quick look at the rest of the lake, but we loved our own little spot so much that we settled back into the Deluxe Screened Gazebo till the sparkling flares burned out.

The paddle boat – an impartial review

Paddle boats … are … stupid.

I’m sorry, but that’s the way I feel about them. Sure, they look like lots of fun. But then you pedal your little legs off out to the middle of the lake and then realize, oh right, you have to pedal BACK TO LAND. But your calves have turned to jell-o and you are about to have a heat stroke and a speedboat just zipped by creating a wake that nearly overturned your lame boat, and now no matter how hard you pedal you just catch air ’cause your boat is still getting whipped around by the waves and the paddle is more often than not NOT in the water.

So imagine my surprise when I returned to America this summer to find my mother had bought – you guessed it – a paddle boat!

Our home’s former owner, Janelle, visited last night and howled with nostalgia over the paddle boat. “Oh my Gawwwwd! We used to have so much fun in our paddle boat!” she screamed. “We’d paddle out with a few beers, me and my girlfriend, and then we’d get stuck out there and have to get towed back. And then they’d tow us too fast and we’d start to go under! It was greeeeeeaaat!”

I’m sure that was rad back in the early 80s, but it’s not the same when you’re no longer 16.

However, being the open-minded person that I am, I allowed my sisters (paddle boat defenders) to take me out for a little cruise. Beer-in-hand, I rode in back with Nico. I’m not too proud to say it was a splashin’ good time.

The nephews get excited at the prospect of a paddle boat ride.

Big strong John dumps the boat into the lake.

A swan family laughs at us.

The crew prepares to launch.

We have a little trouble getting out to sea.

Our lightning-esque speed made it tough for John to catch this shot.

How can you NOT like a boat that makes this boy so happy?

Shop till you drop (or until you waste your entire freakin’ summer vacation)

I don’t know why I’m so behind on blogging about our summer vacation. It’s not like I don’t have any free time. I spend most of it feeding ducks … and shopping online. At least my computer faces the wall behind the windows that face the lake so I can see the water reflected in the computer screen.

Wow, that sounded pretty pathetic.

You know what would be awesome? If you guys would join me in the online shopping joy … mostly because I can earn kickbacks, but also because I want to share the fun. I have subscribed to a few shopping notifications, and I kid you not, I scored some shockingly affordable fabulous finds.

Here are my recommendations. And I must admit that I learned about all these sites from my shopping pimp, CanCan.

Check out Swirl – Here’s what they say about themselves, “It’s a place to buy clothes and accessories at up to 80% off from designers you love and buzz-worthy fashion-world newbies.” I say it’s a fun little collection of cool stuff that you seriously NEED.
To ensure I benefit from your shopping extravaganza, please get there by clicking my link: http://www.swirl.com/invite/theguidehog
Check out Ideeli – This is the shopping site I love the most. They email you with “on sale today” links, and I’ve found some awesome deals on gorgeous designer clothes and shoes.
Again, please use my link: http://www.ideeli.com/invite/dentsadventure
Check out Bluefly – Some of this stuff is crazy expensive ($2,500 for a raincoat? Seriously?), but then you find a swanky sexy AWESOME swimsuit that was originally $150 but you got it on sale for $40. Oh yeah! Run, don’t walk to your nearest keyboard and click here: http://www.bluefly.com/invite/12cb6f7rf

Happy shopping!

Nephews+rocks+dirt+creek+picnic= happy auntie!

Michigan may struggle to get its economy back on track, but this state should take pride in its fantastic parks and trail systems. I can ride my bike from our lake house to my mom’s house (30 minutes by car or an hour on beautiful wooded bike trails), or I can hit the trails to reach almost any other town in the state (not that I HAVE, but I COULD). The parks are clean with plenty of picnic tables, toilets, shade, well-maintained playgrounds and – more often than not – a body of water. What a perfect way to spend a morning with my little guys!

Paul gives me a tour of the playground at Rochester Park.

Swingin’.

Counting ducks.

Paul mostly threw rocks into the water or splashed.

Nico built a big canal system with dams, bridges, and lakes.

This squirrel got a little too close for comfort. I was having PTSD flashbacks to my youth, when a squirrel bit my hand when I fed it some sunflower seeds.

Picnic!

We kicked the soccer ball around for awhile, and I taught Nico the concept of kicking the ball into the goal. (I know, you’re laughing at the idea of me kicking a ball and/or teaching anyone anything about any sport. Go ahead, enjoy it. I understand.) Mostly, I taught him about the theatrics AFTER you make a goal. Eventually, Katy kicked the ball into the creek, and despite chasing it downstream with Paul’s walking stick for awhile, she lost both the ball and the stick. Paul, who struggles to pronounce consonant blends, said, “Hey, where’s my DICK?!”

We had so much fun that we did it again a few days later when our other sister Megan arrived. This time, we picked a different spot at Paint Creek. The boys did a lot of digging.

Meg and Nico looked for tiny shells and fossils.

Potty break. Did I mention the park has a wonderful, clean bathroom? Nico couldn’t be bothered.

Paul and I threw a lot of rocks.

We took turns playing “football,” which really meant throwing the ball and then racing to get it, except when the boys changed the rules to be a standard game of chase.