Sweaty return to India

Our first full day back in New Delhi was a sweaty one.The mercury only reached 82 degrees F (around 27 C), but the monsoon air hung heavy even during pauses in the rain.

When we lost power last year (an almost-daily occurrence), we would check the breaker box. If that didn’t do the trick, we’d wait an hour or so to see whether it fixed itself, which it sometimes did. If it didn’t, we panicked. Among the countless lessons embedded in our India learning curve is the fact that our school provides workers who will drop everything, come to our house and solve electrical problems. So rather than panicking when the lights flickered and died and the A/C fizzled around noon today, I picked up the phone to dial the Facilities Management Office. It didn’t take long for the electrician to arrive, adjust our back-up batteries to get a few lights, fans and the fridge back to work. With sweat dripping into his ears, he smiled and said, “No A/C.” Then he pointed to all the big appliances and said, “No this. No this.” And so on. I asked if the problem was unique to our house. He made a big sweeping gesture and said, “Many people.”

He wasn’t kidding.

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According to the Huffington Post article, half the country lost power today when two electricity grids collapsed. SIX HUNDRED MILLION people. Imagine if every single person in the United States lost power; now double that number! It’s more than the entire population of the European Union. Unbelievable.

We’re among the lucky ones. The Huff Post noted that one-third of India’s population live off the grid with no access to electricity in the best of times. Even during the power outage, the back-up batteries kept the ceiling fans circulating air, and our refrigerated food was safe. Plus, our power returned in full by 6 p.m. (No guaranties that it will last all night, but we’ll take what we can get.)

As if a massive power outage weren’t bad enough, I was even more horrified at the sight of TWO monkeys outside my house. Two big, nasty, aggressive monkeys. And where there are two, there are surely more (or they’ll make more). They climbed a fence across the street and ripped flowers off the trees for a snack. One reason I love my Vasant Vihar neighborhood is the dearth of monkeys. We have lots of roaming cows, but up till now, no monkeys. Massive crows squawked at the nasty creatures, and I saw some street kids chucking rocks. I can only hope the monkeys feel unwelcome and move on.

Rockin’ the sleep-over!

Preparing for my nephews’ first sleep-over at my house, I switched to teacher mode. At ages 3 and 5, my little love bugs have a very short attention span, so I decided to take a “learning centers” approach. I checked out 21 books from the Lake Orion library and planned corresponding activities for many of them. In addition, I had gone cuckoo-la-la at the Dollar Store, stocking my pantry with coloring books, markers, crayons, construction paper, sidewalk chalk, craft supplies, and Play-Doh. I designed a nature walk scavenger hunt and prepared some music-and-movement games. I stumbled upon the website krazydad.com, where I found and printed piles of mazes (some in dinosaur shapes!).

Unfortunately, Nico and Paul had “Superhero Letters and Numbers Day Camp” until 3:30, so we got off to a late start. We managed to cram in a lot of fun, nevertheless.

Scootered to the field and kicked the soccer ball around.
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Nico’s more than a little obsessed with crayfish, so we read the book About Crustaceans: A Guide for Children (about 38 times) and then Tony and Nico rigged up a crayfish trap. Their hotdog bait lured half a dozen little bass into the trap, but alas, no crayfish wandered in.
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Paul made lots of rainbow spaghetti with his Fun Factory.
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Rain dampened our al fresco dinner, so we took the mac-n-cheese inside.
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After reading The Rainbow Fish, we stuck colorful paper and tinfoil “scales” on paper fish and decorated foam fish with self-adhesive stripes, googly eyes and glitter glue.
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Around 8 p.m., they wanted to play in the lake. So hard to say no to these guys! (They forgot swimsuits, so they swam in their underpants.)
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In the morning, we visited the library to return our books, play in the puppet house and toy boat, and attend Legos at the Library.
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Tonight, I had to say good-bye to Nico and Paul (and the rest of the family), but I’m so glad we had this special sleep-over before heading back to India.

Another favorite Canadian

Before leaving Canada, we stopped in Sarnia and met up with yet another fab friend from the international school circuit. We worked, traveled, danced, laughed and cried (a lot in the beginning, less later on) with Steph in Istanbul. She is beautiful, funny, sophisticated and generous, so we were thrilled to meet Jeff, who clearly agrees with us.
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How awesome is it that so many people we love live so near our summer house?

Who needs Google Maps?

If you want to visit someone and you don’t have mobile phone service or internet, I strongly recommend that you first find out the address of your destination. Otherwise, your GPS is really just a pretty plaything. Trust me. I speak from experience.

Tony and I left Stratford and drove the 20 minutes to St. Marys to spend the day with the Hossacks, but I didn’t exactly know where they lived. I had been there once, but my inner GPS clearly didn’t save the route. We stopped at a gas station, where I waited for the hipster teen to buy his Skoal before I asked for the phonebook. (Yes, hipster teen, phonebooks still exists.) Address in hand, we consulted with the GPS and soon arrived at our destination.

When I commented on getting lost, Blake scrunched his brow and asked, “Why didn’t you use my map?”

The day before, he had given me this helpful map and pointed out that the big house was mine and the little house was his. He even wrote M-A-P. Seriously, why didn’t I use the map?

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Much Ado about Splendid Stratford

Driving toward Stratford, Ontario, Tony and I had the sinking feeling that this “Shakespeare Festival” everyone in Canada seems to rave about couldn’t possibly live up to its reputation. Just a few miles out of town, corn fields stretched to the horizon; a thriving theatre community around the corner seemed absurd.

Shortly after a sign welcomed us to “Stratford – home of the Stratford Festival and the Ontario Pork Congress,” we pulled in to the parking lot for the Blue Spruce Bed & Breakfast, where we found a welcome bag from the Hossack Family (Diet Coke, Canadian chocolate, a kid’s book about the festival, a stuffed eagle wearing a Shanghai American School scarf and a heart-warming drawing from 4-year-old Blake). After settling in and chatting a bit with the B&B innkeeper, we walked about 10 minutes to the downtown area, got take-away sandwiches from York Street Deli on Erie (yum!) and found a shady spot to enjoy our lunch. We poked around a few shops and toured the Festival Exhibition, a small museum with costumes, props, set models, photos and video footage celebrating the festival’s 60th anniversary.

I had booked tickets for “Pirates of Penzance” Wednesday afternoon and “Much Ado About Nothing” Thursday night. By the time the pirates took their curtain call, I knew I needed to cram in at least one more show. Tony and I never should have doubted this cultural oasis. Scanning the program, we realized many cast members had boasting rights to Broadway and other world-class theatre experiences (as well as TV and movie roles) and the overall effect of the sets, costumes, sound and lighting proved there was talent behind the scenes, as well. The Major General even sang a hilarious extra verse in honor of the festival’s artistic directors. The Toronto Star’s theatre critic wrote a fairly scathing review of the show, but we were thoroughly entertained. Maybe we’re just out of practice since we rarely have access to plays or musicals…

If you don’t know the Hossacks by now, then you’re clearly not a regular reader of this blog! In a nutshell, we bonded with Scott and Amy while teaching in Shanghai, I was at the hospital when Blake made his appearance, and now we all spend our summers within a three-hour drive. Their summer home is just 20 minutes from Stratford. Perfect! Following our matinee, we were nearly bowled over by Amy’s running-start-leaping-hug sidewalk greeting. Blake, napping in his carseat, was less exuberant, and Scott acted like we had just seen him yesterday, which is just the way it should be.

In my zeal to take advantage of the stage offerings, I bought rush tickets for $25 each to “42nd Street” for that night. Never mind that we had been up since 5 a.m., driven to Canada, already seen a play, socialized for a few hours, and never really ate lunch or dinner. Despite our seats in the nosebleed section, we were entranced.

We enjoyed some more Hossack time the next day, culminating in a grown-ups evening of dinner and “Much Ado About Nothing,” another excellent production. Tony and I went to a Q&A with the show’s Claudio (Tyrone Savage) and Hero (Bethany Jillard) the next morning, checked out and drove to St. Marys to spend the day with our friends.

Here are some shots, taken by Amy’s camera, of our fun visit.
Dinner at Foster’s Inn.
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Hanging with the Bard in the Festival Theatre garden.
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After a nice riverside picnic, we pushed our bikes up a steep hill to the trail.
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Blake chose to climb the cliff face rather than take the steps. When he didn’t appear for a few minutes, Scott and Amy helped him to the top.
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Blake got dirty climbing that hill, so we paused to wash hands and get a drink.
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Playing on a train car at the old Stratford Junction, where 16-year-old Thomas Edison once worked (and apparently caused a train wreck that led to his prompt departure from Canada).
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DC, VA and Baltimore

Last Tuesday, I rode from Michigan to Alexandria, VA, with my sister, Meg, in her monster truck. I think she had hoped I would drive for part of the journey, but dang, that truck is intimidating. So I didn’t. Instead, I let the pregnant lady drive while her sweet German shepherd, Sophie, and I napped.

How fun is the D.C. area?! Geez, I need to spend more time there. I attended a three-day workshop – What’s Different About Teaching Reading to Students Learning English? – offered by the Center for Applied Linguistics. I took away some good stuff to use right away when school resumes next month.

Meg and I met up with my friend and AES colleague, Katrina, in Georgetown for dinner.
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We rode bikes into Alexandria’s Old Town and browsed in the King Street shops (including a cupcake break).
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On my last day in town, we drove to Baltimore (the GPS took us on the “scenic route,” which I’m pretty sure included locations used in filming some of the grittier scenes in “The Wire”). Sarah, one of my dear friends from our days in Turkey, introduced Meg and me to her husband, Nate, and their 7-day old son, Samuel. Like an IDIOT, I did not take any photos, but I will add some here when she sends a few of her own. I also failed to take any shots at the National Aquarium in Baltimore, which is fantastic, although mobbed.

Now I’m back in Michigan … for ONE day. Tomorrow, Tony and I road trip to Canada for the Shakespeare Festival in Stratford. No rest for the weary.

America, we gonna partay like it’s your birfday!

The Fourth of July festivities are always a little crazy at our lake. I don’t mean Katy-Perry-Last-Friday-Night-crazy like Independence Day used to be in Lake Orion’s glory days. I mean we light our flares too early and incur the wrath of local residents à la 2010. Or we have a hailstorm that cancels the fireworks display à la 2011. As for 2012, well, Michigan stupidly decided to pump up the economy by legalizing more lethal fireworks for stoners with empty beer bottles to shoot at their loser friends. Which they did.

The best part of our Independence Day celebration was WHO shared it with us! All my siblings were here, as well as two very dear friends from my days at Mannheim American High School in Germany. It’s the first time Tarren, Cami and I have been together since 1998. Tarren and her husband, Jim, flew in from St. Louis, and Cami drove from Virginia with her two kiddos, Quinn (11) and Denison (7).

BTW, I am the Zombie Godmother for Quinn and Den. Cami used to call me their Fairy Godmother, but Quinn and I decided that was lame.

Isn’t it the best when you just pick up where you left off with the special people in your life? That never ceases to amaze and thrill me.

As usual, Lake Orion’s celebrations started with Flare Night the Friday before July 4th. Everyone lit road flares – at 10 p.m. sharp – around the perimeter of the lake. I had brought a bunch of bindis from India for the ladies, but when Nico saw them, he wanted one, too, and before we knew it, he had stuck them on everyone. (Disclaimer: All good photos in this post were taken by Tarren and/or Jim; crappy photos were taken by me.)
Quinn helps Nico with his bindi.
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Saturday night, we played with sparklers, snappers, snakes and other low-testosterone fireworks before traipsing to our neighbor’s peninsula for the lake’s fireworks show. For the record, extra-long sparklers are an extra-bad idea.
Quinn sparkles.
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Quinn, Den and Nico play with sparklers while I have a coronary.
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I like this shot because I think my fear is palpable.
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Love this photo!
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Boaters get ready for the REAL fireworks show.
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We watched from shore, and Jim got some awesome shots!
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Here are some other fave photos from our big reunion:

Nico checks in with Meg’s baby, due in late September.
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BFFs. Cami and Tarren.
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Jim at the lakefront.
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Denison kayaks.
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Kate, Tarren and moi.
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Quinnster chillin’.
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Nico and Denison giving the ubiquitous summer signal.
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Hanging out at the Dickinson Resort pool.
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Family reunion! The only one missing was Meg’s husband, Britt. My brother, Mike, and his wife, Summer, visited from Belgium.
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Nephew Paul and Uncle Mike wear their American Embassy School shirts.
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Sophie checks out her mom’s pretty hair and baby bump.
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Stuck on Sandia Peak

My parents and I rode the Sandia Peak Aerial Tram back in 2007, but I must have experienced Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder because I totally forgot how freakin’ scary it was! I convinced Tony to take the tram up to the top of the 10,378-foot mountain on June 21 for a little hike followed by dinner at High Finance Restaurant.

The 2.7-mile tram ride took 14 minutes at a speed of about 20 feet per second. High winds shook the trees below and rocked the gondola a bit. Soaring above the rocky slopes, I tried not to hold my breath.

Tony, pretending he’s not scared.
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At the top, we hiked in and out of the woods for about an hour in cool temperatures, fresh crisp air and achingly bright sunshine.

The other side of the mountain gets all the rain, so it’s lush and wooded and apparently a hot-spot for winter skiiers.
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Can’t. Open. My. Eyes.
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I took about a thousand pictures of trees. Oh, nature, how I’ve missed you!
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Tony was a big chicken about standing near the edge. Probably a good thing.
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The tram heads down the mountain.
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Little did we know it wasn’t coming back any time soon.

We enjoyed a nice dinner while watching a storm brewing in the distance. Dark clouds rolled in, lightning slashed across the sky, and we could see a curtain of rain at the horizon.
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Unfortunately, the storm moved toward the mountain and ultimately cut power to the tram. Quite a few people were stranded, including several with young children. Finally, the tram got moving again and several relieved passengers started downhill to Albuquerque. About halfway, the tram stopped and swayed for 30 minutes. Unable to finish its journey down, it somehow managed to travel back up. Discouraged and worried, the people disembarked and joined the rest of us in the waiting area of the tower.

Around 9:30 p.m., the power was restored and we watched the tram operator receive a call and signal thumbs-up to a co-worker. A tentative cheer went up from the crowd. We piled into the tram, some muttering prayers, some cracking anxious jokes, some silently staring out at the glittering city lights in the otherwise inky valley. At the bottom, we all laughed and shared a moment of genuine relief.
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Road trip to the Salinas Pueblo Missions

I have a lot of catching up to do on this blog. I never finished writing about our experiences in Albuquerque, and I never even STARTED writing about events since we returned to Michigan or the Fourth of July festivities or my trip to Washington, D.C., and now we’re heading to Canada tomorrow for a few days, which will generate even MORE blog-worthy news. Time to get crackin’.

So … back to Albuquerque.

Walking through the red sandstone ruins of the Salinas Pueblo Missions on June 22, I kept picturing the Native Americans of the Salinas Valley and the anxiety they must have felt at the arrival of Spanish missionaries more than 300 years ago. Here’s some background, from a National Park Service brochure:

Before they left the area in the 1670s, Pueblo Indians forged a stable agricultural society whose members lived in apartment-like complexes and participated, through rule and ritual, in the cycles of nature. … The Salinas Valley became a major trade center and one of the most populous parts of the Pueblo world, with perhaps 10,000 or more inhabitants in the 1600s. Located along major trade routes, the villagers were both producers and middlemen between the Rio Grande villages and the plains tribes to the east. They traded maize, piñon nuts, beans, squash, salt, and cotton goods for dried buffalo meat, hides, flints and shells. … In the 1670s the Salinas villages were abandoned and their people dispersed.

Although Spanish explorers (traveling from Mexico) failed to discover the mythical riches of the north, Spain accepted its charge from the Pope to Christianize the natives of the New World.

Tony and I explored two of the three Salinas Pueblo Missions, southeast of ABQ. At the suggestion of Sarah, innkeeper at the Adobe Nido B&B, we took the scenic route through the mountains. Totally worth it! We stopped first at Quarai, which was a thriving pueblo when Juan de Oñate arrived in 1598 to demand allegiance to Spain. We walked the shady path that passed by unexcavated mounds, ultimately arriving at the red-walled church ruins. After checking out the site, we enjoyed a peaceful trek through the surrounding piñon trees.
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From there, we drove to Abó, where Franciscans started converting residents in 1622. Two churches were built here, including one with an unusually sophisticated buttressing system.
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That circle in front of the church ruins was an underground kiva, a sacred chamber for special ceremonies. The kiva reflects the co-existence of Pueblo religious rituals and Christian traditions at the missions. That co-existence was doomed, obviously. Pueblo priests began to doubt the Christian god was powerful enough to meet their communal needs (summer rain and bountiful harvests), and Franciscans destroyed Kachina masks and kivas to discourage native religions.

For tons more information (567 pages, to be exact!) about the history and culture of the Salinas Pueblo Missions, check out “In the Midst of a Loneliness,” a PDF on the National Park Service website.

A third site, Gran Quivira, is located about 25 miles off the main road. As we were getting a bit peckish, we decided to skip it and head back to the city for lunch.

Returning to Albuquerque, we crested a hill and emerged in the plains. This was our view for most of the trip.
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Oh, another great resource is the book, Salinas Pueblo Missions – Abó, Quarai & Gran Quivira by Dan Murphy. I just realized I lifted this book from the B&B by accident, so I’ll go pop it in the mail!

National Pie Week, aka the most awesome week of the year

Did you know this was National Pie Week?
Moreover, did you know this is the last day of National Pie Week and I haven’t had any PIE all WEEK?!
Many of you know that pie is my favorite food, so missing out on National Pie Week would have been tragic.

I’m a pie eater, not a pie baker, so I had to run out and buy a selection to celebrate this special week. I purchased mini versions of Michigan 4-berry, strawberry-rhubarb, apple and cherry, as well as Breyer’s Vanilla ice-cream (truly the ONLY ice-cream worthy of sharing a bowl with pie). Tempted to eat them all by myself, I altruistically hauled them to my parents’ house to share.
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Strawberry-rhubarb is my all-time fave, but Michigan 4-berry is pretty delish.
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Megan eats pie for two, and Dad digs in.
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Why do I always eat so much pie that it stops tasting fabulous?
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Next year, I will strive to honor the spirit of National Pie Week with a delectable slice every day instead of a massive pie pile on the last day.