Happy Birthday to my wise, witty, wonderful life partner... If we didn't live on separate continents, I would give you a hug!

Today is my beautiful, far away husband's birthday!!! I got to wish him Happy Birthday on FB twice- once on his day in India, and then his day here in the US. He is 12.5 hours ahead of me in this northwest city, and 15.5 hours ahead of my island time... On skype, I asked him if he was going to do anything special, but he didn't think so. Hmmm... I would like to buy him ice cream!! Someday, someday.... 

I cant believe it is already June.....

 My husband informed me that he fell off his balcony. Ouch! I guess he was in enough pain to need to go to the doctor and get some medication. On skype, it hurt to see him groan and make faces as he shifted and adjusted his aching back into a more comfortable position.

 Oh babes, wish I was there to take care of you!

 This is what's frustrating about a long distance thing. What if he had cracked his skull and bled to death? Who would've called me? How would I handle trying to get to India while grieving? And what kinds of pieces would be left of me if my man was taken from me before we even got to live together? Hmmmm...

 Since the visa thing is stalled at the moment, and I am jobless, I don't really have much to write about, and the highlight of my day is the twice daily phone calls or skyping with him.

 It isn't fun being a single wife. 

Oh how I miss my husband...

After months and months of reading about the whole visa/greencard process, I think I am ready to tackle this on my own. No lawyer needed here! I have all of the paperwork done to start, now I just need some money. I need a job!!!
In the meantime, we just skype every day, morning and night, and I entertain myself by reading blogs by other girls with Indian men, and searching the library for books by Indian authors. And every other day, I go eat at my husband's Uncle's restaurant here and they feed me and chat with me about husband, family and India. I am blessed...
 I am planning on documenting the whole visa process here, mostly for others who will be going through the same situation. There is an overwhelming amount of info online, and I think I can keep it simple and easy to understand. But the website visajourney is the one I have turned to the most. They have example forms if you need help filling them out, timelines, forums, step-by-step guides, and checklists.
Good luck to me! ;)

In Limbo

 My life is in limbo at the moment.

  I am a bit depressed as I realized that I don't make enough to sponsor my poor husband to come over here. So now what? How do you ask someone to sponsor your immigrant husband that they have never met?

Maybe I should just go live in India? Or try to work two or three jobs so that next year, I might qualify to sponsor him? How can I go another year without seeing him?

  I am homeless, jobless, and uncertain of which direction to go. I can't go back to my island and get my job back, due to some family things, and continuing education stuff that I committed to do this summer, and I can't do my old job here until I get registered with the state which will take about six weeks, (they changed the law when I moved to the island, and I didn't know, or I could have registered before I spent two months in India!) and I can't just get a retail job because everyone wants you to work weekends, and I need weekends off to do all of the things I am here for.

Boy it is hard to explain this while trying to keep it anonymous!

A big thanks to all of my friends that are letting me couch surf and house sit. I really appreciate your help.

What's next? I am stuck....

The Ugly Truth

It is the night I go home. We are at a friends place in Mumbai, waiting for my flight. I get to order one more dinner of butter chicken before I go. :)

I am so relieved to be heading back. It was wonderful to be here with him, to get to know him better, but it was difficult to realize some hard truths about myself.

Having too much time on my hands was not good for me. My mind can take one little thing and blow it up into a presumptive mess. It is challenging to face the the fact that I am not nice when I feel helpless, stifled, unsure. There were many times these last two months that I did not like myself.

It is hard enough to deal with a country, language, food and customs that are not my own, but I had to throw in a burgeoning relationship that was supposed to grow in a somewhat artificial environment. I am not this person that  he knows. I am an independent individual who supports herself, who texts her friends, who goes to Bikram yoga everyday, who loves her car and her bike, loves drinking at the local pub with all her island friends, who visits the library once a week, and likes to eat out for almost every meal. All of these things I don't do or have here.

He made a comment about something that he thought wasn't me, and it floored me because, in my country, it is me. He doesn't know me at all. He only knows the girl who is in India on intermission from her life and responsibilities.

I tried not to post when I felt bad, which is why I posted a lot less than I thought I would when I made this blog. It is not easy for an Aries to admit her faults. To admit that I don't like myself when I feel helpless, worthless, and left out. To feel resentful when Husband is not keeping me in the know, filling me in, informing me of plans ahead of time instead of just springing things on me that were just discussed by everyone in the room but me, because I don't understand the language. No matter how many times I ask everyone to speak in English around me when plans are being made, they unknowingly slip back into Hindi after about three minutes.

Sigh. It's not his fault. He has been wonderful. He is so patient, says that he understands. Didn't hold it against me when I picked fights with him out of boredom and frustration. I hope that I can be as accommodating and gracious when he is adjusting in my country.

It amuses me that I think our daily phone calls when we are apart are a more realistic way of getting to know the details of each others lives, thoughts, and dreams than me being here in a suspended state of living.

Being with someone from a different country is hard. Being married to him means I can't hide from the things I don't like about myself. In order to love him, I have to learn to love all aspects of myself, and it is disconcerting to accept that I am not perfect! ;)

Thank you to all my supportive readers, and to all the gori girls who are with Indian men, and blog about it. I am thinking that I will keep this blog to write about the extensive immigration process that is ahead of us, and hope that it helps others in the same situation.

This sojourn may be over, but the adventure is just beginning.

Indians love to party

Lots going on!

The boy next door is getting married and the neighborhood is full of activity! These large tents have been erected, in the street in front of our house, and in the field in the back. Tonight is the DJ party, tomorrow is the wedding. Unfortunately, we are going to Mumbai tomorrow, so I wont see the wedding, but today I have been out there taking lots of photos.

There are about 50 women, dressed in their nicest sarees, with mehndi all over their hands, arms and feet, sitting on a cloth rolling out rotis. They all had to bring their own rolling stones and pins, and it is a frenzy of women chatting as they roll and transfer to a larger plate that other women come around , consolidate, and collect. A few adorable little girls are trying to help as well. I will have to post pics later.

And there are about 20 men just sitting around, watching.

As I take photos, I can recognize a few Hindi words that inform me that the women are asking my MIL about me.

I tried to snap an unobtrusive photo of the groom standing there looking like a prince checking on his subjects, (and maybe just a tad bewildered), but he caught me and rewarded me with the most beautiful smile. I fell in love just a tiny bit. ;)

I gotta get back out there! Need to keep spying on the activity! Love this.

And, there really is nothing more beautiful than an Indian woman dolled up in a glittery saree, adorned with gold bangles, necklaces, earrings, and nose rings, sparkling jewels in her hair, and dark mehndi decorating her  limbs. They are queens, and I am the poor, pasty, pale outsider, the comic book next to the Mona Lisa. It inspires awe...

You've heard of Indian traffic, right?

Ouch!

 Oh boy. So last time I was in India, the traffic scared the hell out of me. I was usually yelling at husband to slow down, stop following so close, please don't hit the pedestrians, I can't watch this! Surprisingly, I felt safer on the motorcycle as it is able to swerve in between and around and felt like less of a coffin. We had a few close calls, and got hit five times, just little bumps and nudges, where you just stop, glare at the other driver and move on.

 This time, the traffic is more like a video game, where I am enjoying the seamless beauty of swerving, darting, shuffling, hedging, and honking, gasping at close calls and itching to be my own driver. Oh to tackle it and conquer! I would do this, not that, go here, dodge there, jump through that opening, squeeze in between those trucks, pass this loser, fall back now, grin maniacally at my fellow contestants, exhilarated, and loving how alive driving is here.

But accidents do happen and I experienced my first one last night.

 On the motorcycle, Husband and I were heading to a baby's first birthday party, and another motorbike turned into our lane without looking at all, and slammed right into us. Husband tried to slow down, but there was no where to swerve to as the median was on our other side. It all seemed in slow motion to me, the bike falling over, the other bike and two passengers almost on top of us, skidding down the road. No helmets. When we came to a stop, Husband jumped up and pulled me up, pulled the bike up, moved us over to the side of the road, and we were instantly surrounded by at least thirty people, watching me cry as Husband used my water bottle to wash off my bleeding elbow. I don't recall what he said to the other bikers, I was kind of shocked that my video game turned harmful, and was grateful that we were both fine and that it was late, around 11pm, so there was less other traffic to worry about as we were skidding and laying there, and getting up and moving to the side of the road. Of course no police were called, no accident reported, no exchanging of insurance information. We just hopped back on the bike and went to the party.

 This morning, there is a bumpy bruise on one knee, and one of my toes is paining. Husband is fine, and says "This is India, babes!" meaning that this is common and we just glare at the other driver and move on.

 Oh India. How I love the way this country will take an observer and make them an active participant. You cannot be apathetic in India.