Snow Angel

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Dulce

Dulce - the Spanish word for sweet. And how sweet it is to be home. I flew into Houston on Dec. 5th. I spend a couple of days in Houston seeing friends and taking care of a few odds and ends. I am happy to report that I did not pay for a meal during my entire four days in Houston - my friends - such blessings they are - treated me and made me feel loved and very special. I am blessed to call one of those friends family also - my cousin Kay.

I arrived at my brother's home yesterday. I have the privilege of having a 'sleepover' with my niece - there is nothing like a warm little body stealing the covers to make you feel right at home. She woke up about 6:30 this morning (I was already awake) and told me she had a nightmare. I kissed her head and said a little prayer that Jesus would make the nightmare go away. Ordinary living - and how precious it is.

I am sleeping well - I seem to have adjusted almost without effort to the schedule that I kept in Pakistan - I usually wake a little before 6:00 am each morning - the day starts early for me now. Somehow you get more done that way - not sure why.

Well, I will close - ordinary life calls and I must go get ready for the day. Ducle, Ducle....

Counting

I am on my way home in just a few days. As I reflect on the previous year, all I can think is that my computer is smarter than I am. In the last guesthouse in Islamabad and in the current one, I didn't have to try connect to wireless Internet. My computer 'remembered' and automatically connected. There were both places I had been before - the familiarity is nice, but, gee whiz - you know you have traveled a lot when the Internet connections are there automatically. I was counting the other day and here is my tally of places seen within the last 12 months: Thailand, UAE, Pakistan, Afghanistan, America....I also saw the borders of China and India so I am counting those too. If you count airports, I saw France on the way here. Frankly, I feel like a gypsy, albeit a high-tec one. OK, how many ways have I traveled this year? By bus, by car, by taxi, by airplane, by jeep - no boats or trains that I can remember. My SIM card collection - well, let's just say it's becoming a hobby to collect SIM cards. I have dragged my computer through countless airports. Sometimes I reflect on the fact that even 5 years ago, laptops were commonly bound by endless wireless and had to be plugged into telephone lines. Now they are every day fare - more ordinary than tuna sandwiches. They are the prerogative of twenty somethings and people who live life on the run. Somehow, without meaning to, I have become one of those people.

And now I am headed home - back to America, back to my 'place in the world' - in some ways to measure what I have become in this last year against what I was and where I have come from. Familiar place - yes, but daunting none the less. What will I discover about myself? Will I do odd things without even thinking about them? Will I find the materialism of America gross and unwieldy? Or will I dive right back without a second thought in after so longing for the abundance of American capitalism - ie...Wal-Mart? Will my family see me through new eyes? Will I find my world has stayed the same and I have changed???? In the words of Michael Card, 'Sometimes the questions tell us more than the answers ever could...'

Corban

My cat Corban is MIA (or maybe AWOL - not quite sure). I left my house on Friday morning, November 14th. He was sleeping quietly on my bed (really his bed) and appeared to be fine. My neighbor called on Saturday night to stay they hadn't seen him. I had some unexpected guests who left on Friday afternoon and he may have ducked out the door when they were not looking. In any event, he is missing and I am bereaved. He is a very special cat (in more ways than one) and I miss him terribly. Please pray that he comes home safe and intact.

Continent Hopping

Just wanted to let you know of recent events. I am currently staying in Islamabad due to the security situation in Peshawar (translate that to Peshawar is not exactly giving warm fuzzies to ex-pats at the moment). I will be leaving for Dubai on November 30th and staying for couple of days doing medical appointments. Then the real fun begins. I am going home for Christmas!!!!!!!!!!! I will be leaving Dubai on December 5th and flying into Houston. After a couple of days in Houston, I will be staying with my mother and my brother's family near the San Antonio area. I want to use this trip to rest and to re-connect with my family and friends. Please pray for me as I travel and sleep in many different places. "I'll be home for Christmas...." God has given me korban (a special blessing) with this trip.

Obituary for Tuesday Walker

Tuesday Walker, of Dilley, Texas, died Sunday, November 24, 2008. He was born in August 1997 in Calallen, Texas. He was adopted by his human, Rebecca, on October 21, 1997. This date thereafter was always celebrated as his birthday. He was my cat for 10 years and for the last year had lived with my mother, Joy Walker, in Dilley, Texas. He was a great cat - warm, affectionate, and loving. He was a red tabby - a common breed with an uncommon heart. He was a creature of habit - much to the amusement of the humans he lived with. He arose for breakfast between 6 and 8 am. After some quality time with his human, he would retire to a high place (a closet shelf or the like) for a long serious cat nap. Periodally he would wake up and check on his human (assuring himself that they were still around to feed him) and then return to dozing. He almost always put himself to bed about 9:00 pm and encouraged his human to follow the same schedule. He was a magnificant cat and will be sorely missed. He is preceded in death by his brother, Monday Walker. He is survived by his humans, Rebecca Walker and Joy Walker.

Home

Dear Friends,

I am home from Kabul. By the time I left, we had three major security incidents, one earthquake tremor, and I came home with ghardia (nasty little stomach thing - had to take at least one souvenir home from AF). As for redemption, it didn't happen (see post below). It will still take a Mighty Thundering Voice to get me back to Kabul - and He will have to send a chariot of fire to collect me. On a positive note, there were some good things. I got to spend quality time with my friend. It meant a lot to her that I was there - and she expressed this in words that almost made me cry. I also made some new friends - a couple with two children who will be living in Kabul, a retired English lady who lived in Kabul for 16 years and tells the most fascinating stories, and another British girl who does psychological assessments of communities. And finally, being in Kubal made me come to see how much I have come to call Pakistan home. I am so happy to be home - for many reasons but mostly just because it is home. As Dorthory says, there's no place like home. Of course, she was referring to Kanasas but I am sure she would have like Pakistan - I do.

New List

I am a list person. Usually I make lists of things I need to do, things I need, etc. But I am starting another one - places I will never vacation again. So far I have one entry on my list - Kabul. Just in time for true confessions, I am here right now. So this vacation is not yet over - there is time for redemption but I am doubtful. I have been here a week tomorrow. I came for a wedding and a conference. The wedding has not happened yet and the conference is cancelled. I am on lock down at the guesthouse where I am staying because there have been two major security incidents in less than a week. The final straw came a little before 6 this morning. I was roused out of a sound sleep to feel the bed shaking. In a haze of sleep, I thought it was near neighbors dragging their luggage down the stairs. Then I thought my cat (safely in Pakistan at the moment) had jumped on the bed. Then I heard the word 'earthquake.' Fortunately, it was just a tremor but it was enough to make me decide that I am never coming back here again - sans a word from God and a flaming chariot to get me here. Someone commented to me before I came that Afghanistan has a mystique about it - well, I am still waiting to feel the mystique - hopefully sometime before the next earthquake hits.

A Year in Repose

I have been thinking about this post for a while. I have an anniversary pending. On November 1st, I will have lived in Pakistan for 1 year. On November 1, 2007, I arrived in Pakistan. There were so many unknowns - where I would live, how I would do with the language, who my new friends would be.... At the age of 36, I was starting over again. I had moved many times but always within America, never internationally. So, in this life filled with adventures, this was a new one, unlike nothing I had ever done before.

So, in repose, how has the year been? It has been hard in some ways. I have come to accept that I live in a place where stepping outside my own front door is always a risk. I have come to accept that there will always be a gender divide in this place. I have learned to hope that someday it will not be as great as it is now. I have learned where the streets go - at least some of them. Stephen King said, "A place is yours when you know where all the roads go." This place is not fully mine, but enshallah, one day it will be. I have learned how to tell a taxi driver to go strait. I have learned to miss my new language, even as badly as I speak it, when I travel. I have learned to bargain and to walk away when I don't get the price I want. I have learned to remember that one does not go strait to the final price - and sometimes a cup of tea is necessary before you do business. I have learned to wear a chuddar - and to love and to hate it. I love it in the winter when it is like wearing a big blanket. I love the safety of being able to cover my face when men stare. I hate it in the summer when sweat drips and I think of the freedom that men have from this. I hate it when it slips from my head at the most inconvenient times.

I have learned to love this people for their hospitality and their kindness to a stranger. I have cherished the words of the friend who said to me "you're part of our family now" on the first night we met. I have learned to appreciate, if not always understand, the interdependence that governs these complicated family relationships. I have to come to cherish the endless cups of tea and the special status of guest in their country.

I have learned to leave this place - and to live with the risk that someday, in minutes or hours, my world here might end. I have learned to travel - to deal with foreign currency, to hail taxis various parts of the world, to listen for the best places to shop, to wear what the natives wear so I will not be hailed immediately as a foreigner. All these things take skill and time to learn - and I have just begun.

But, today, I am a little homesick. I long for a place where the currency is green and white and I know the faces on the bills, a place where my language is accepted without question. I long to be in a place where my family doesn't worry about my safety, where I can look men in the eye and still be thought of as a good woman. This things are of my home, and while I have learned to love the soil upon which I now reside, a stranger still I am.

Christmas Wish List

Hey you all (ok, so it's a south of the mason-dixon line thing but you all is such a useful word!!!!!!!). I am just going to throw this out here. I am wishing for a Thanksgiving/Christmas package filled with things that I cannot get here (or things that are very hard to find) so that I can bake for Christmas. I have been hoarding things for several months now in anticipation of Christmas. If anyone wants to send me a package, here are some things I would love to get. I am also going to post this on my 'love to get' list on the side of the blog:

Spices: dill, nutmeg, cream of tartar, celery flakes

Food items: dried coconut, chocolate chips, white karo syrup, small marshmallows, unsweetened chocolate squares, Pepperidge Farm Butter Mints, fresh cranberries (these would be heaven), canned Mandarin oranges, pie filling (cherry, strawberry, and apricot), dried blueberries, canned pumpkin,

Peshawar In Pictures

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Peshawar in September

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September Women - Peshawar 2008

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The Old Place

The old place - a family term casually applied but with layers of connotations. It was after we moved that we began to call it this - descriptive in more ways than one. One way of acknowledging what we had left behind. A way of saying that we have moved forward into another life. The place where I grew up, where my roots are, shortly to be mine no more. After owning this land for more than 30 years, my mother is selling. I don't fault her at all - but I want to take a few minutes to grieve a little, for the good and the bad. Stephan King once said a place is yours when you know where all the roads go. I know where all the roads go, even now.

I was two years old when we moved to this 19 acres of farmland set in the middle of a field. I was thirteen when I left it forever. It is the first home that I remember and when I dream, I dream I am in this place. My parents moved an old farm house on the property and there my soul was born. The land was flat and boundaried by trees, with only one being on our land. It was not a pretty place, at least not in my mind. It was green in certain seasons but the land was too flat and the dirt too black for beauty. Cotton growing dirt - the edge of an old plantation, divided and conquered long before my time. So much history that I will never know but lingers there even now. Rumors of an old slave cemetery just across the fence on the back forty. Black and white communities still segregated - both in churches, neighborhoods, and ways of life. Is it any wonder that I grew up with such a keen sense of the past when all I had to do was step outside my door to take it in?

The land I loved, the house I hated. The house was old and broken even then. When I left for good in the 1980s, I had no regrets - only eagerness to be gone. How was I to know then that we would be last family to truly live in this old place of high ceiling and window weights? It was an abandonment of not only a physical place but of dreams. My mother's dream to re-create her farm-living childhood, mostly. It was her dream and my prison and I could not wait to leave. My regrets have come with the years, seeing something so broken and unable to right it. When I was old enough and free enough to drive, I would occasionally visit this broken down place - sometimes to take a few meager belongings that were left, to remember where I had come from but mostly to remind myself that I could leave again. Never again would it be my prison but then again, it would never be my home.

This place is also my greatest bond with my siblings. Our ties begun here and perhaps were the strongest they would ever be. I loved my siblings in this place, I hated them in this place. Never again would we live so closely under one roof. I took my sister's Barbie apart here (sheer maliciousness, I confess) and hid the pieces. Then I forgot where I put the pieces. It was here that I, at the age of four, danced in sheer joy that I would have another baby brother or sister. Her name was going to be Mary Elizabeth if it was a girl (it was a boy and his name is Daniel). The relationships with my parents were also formed here - relationships so complex it has taken a lifetime to unravel the threads and be grateful for the ties that bind. It was here that my independent spirit was born and my mother's words and my grandmother's love were poured into me.

It was in this place that my beloved puppy Butterscotch was run over by a car and I forever became a cat person in my grief. It was here that I learned to be a farm girl - watching my father strip the cow's teats of the final drops of milk, finding where the chickens hid the eggs, passing the corn on the highway, growing tall and golden. It would only be later that I learned to despise the 'country girl' and forever more I would claim to be a city girl. It was also here that I discovered the magical world of books and realized that they could take you anywhere you wanted to go and then beyond. Books were my earliest escape from this place and my final place of refuge even now - always reminding me that there was a world beyond this and if I dreamed hard enough, I can get there.

In the last years, this place was seldom on my mind - I had too much to do and had lived too many years beyond its narrow confines to truly say I missed it. But during the last year or so that I was in the States, I began to research my father's maternal family line. I discovered to my surprise that they had taken abode in two neighboring counties - Brazoria and Fort Bend Counties. My father's family had lived near Damon's Mound in Brazoria County after immigrating from Germany in the 1840s. The second generation moved to Fort Bend County. These people were pioneers in the truest sense of the world, coming to a land rife with hardship, torn with slavery, clearing brush to eke out a meager living on small farms. The land we owned was on the border between Matorgorda County and Wharton County. Wharton County was my mother's birthplace and where her roots are, even now. Matorgorda County was the place of my birth. In the final analysis, I spent my childhood in the geographical center of where my family tree intersected. Perhaps that was more than conidence - perhaps God had a plan all alone and it was not just a random house plucked in the middle of an ugly field.

I think on my deathbed I will think of this place and call it my place of belonging. For better or worse, my roots are deep in this black soil. May it bring joy and peace to those who now hold the title deed to so much more than just a plot of ground. To those of you who hold history in your hand - mine, my family's and the history of those who have come before - honor it always. Selah.

Events

Dear Friends and Family,

I am not sure who all reads this blog but for those of you who do... I am going to deviate a little from my usual normal 'light' stuff here.

The situation in this country and especially my city is getting really tense. There are army planes flying overhead at all hours of the day and night, reportedly on their way to engagements in Swat, Bara, and other places. There was an attack on a high ranking US consulate person earlier this week (this incident happened in my neighborhood). There are rumors of the 'T' forces sitting in the hills just waiting to take the city. Other ex-pats are beginning to leave the city because of the situation here - we had one family go last week and another family will be leaving shortly. In general, the situation is deteriorating very rapidly

So what can I do? What can you do? Pray - it is that simple and that complex. I would ask first of all that you pray as the Spirit directs you. Secondly, I would ask for your prayers that if I have to go, it will be done in safety and with order - not with haste and in fear. Also, please pray that if I have to go, I can take Korban. The furniture, kitchen tools, books - all that can be replaced. The cat cannot. Pray that God will bring good out of this situation for these people and this country that I am just beginning to love. Long term, I would ask that you pray that the HS will overcome this city and there will a wind of the Spirit seen, in might and power.

Blessings always,

Rebecca

Pumpkin Pancakes

Pumpkin Pancakes

1 1/4 cups white flour
2 tablespoon sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon cloves
1 cup milk
6 tablespoons pureed pumpkin, fresh or canned
2 Tablespoons melted butter
1 egg

Whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, cinnamon, ground ginger, salt, nutmeg, and cloves. In a separate bowl, stir together milk, pumpkin, melted butter, and egg. Fold wet ingredients into dry ingredients. Melt some butter in a skillet over medium heat. Pour 1/4 cup batter for each pancake. Cook pancakes about 3 minutes per side; serve with butter and syrup. Makes 8 to 10 pancakes.

My notes: I used 3/4 cup white flour and 1/3 cup wheat flour. I reduced sugar to 1 TB. I used fresh pumpkin, well drained and pureed in a food processor.

Korban

OK - for those of you out there who have been dying for another Korban story - here goes. Just as an update, Korban is now 10 months old, growing and thriving. However, he recently had a very upsetting experience and it was all Mommie's fault!

As a favor, I offered to keep another Siamese cat for some friends who are on vacation. This cat is female and hails by the name of 'Peshu' - Yep, you guessed it -that is 'cat' in Pushtu. I call her 'Bul Peshu' - the 'other cat' in Pushtu. As I was to learn, maybe 'Bull' wasn't such a bad name for her. I was assured (and was really convinced) that that she was a wonderful cat and very good with people. Well, all of that was true - it was other cats she wasn't so good with. My first clue came after I placed her litter bowl (FYI - we don't use boxes here) next to Korban's. Instead of using her own toilet, she waltzed over to his bowl and proceeded with business. This was not a good sign but I took it philosophically - after all, this is only a cat hotel - she will be gone in a few weeks. Surely we can endure until then.

The next altercation came about midnight several nights ago. Korban was my room, tending to cat business (IE... hanging out and napping). I mistakenly left the bathroom door open and Bul Peshu sidled in. A moment or two later, Korban sat up and gave the obligatory hiss. You know, the one where they open their mouth and an Arabic vowel comes out. Bul Peshu didn't take too kindly to this. With a single bound, she leapt on the bed and proceeded to engage in a simple assault (cat style). Korban was moving as fast as he could but there wasn't a whole lot he could do. Not wanting to put my hands in a cat fight (even if one cat was not fighting back) I grabbed a pillow and whacked where I could. That cooled things off for a minute and I was able to get Korban out of harm's way. He immediately ran downstairs and did not reappear until the well into the next day. Smart kitty.

A few days later, I was fixing breakfast for them and I heard (pardon the pun) 'cat'erwauling. I arrived just in time to see my baby flying down the stairs with his tail about the size of a bottle brush. Needless to say, he was conspisipsouly absent for quite a while after that.

The final staking of territory came, however, on Thursday night. Korban, being the smart and intelligent cat that he is, was staying safely out of harm's way downstairs in the basement. During the middle of night, Bul Peshu staged an ambush. She made her way downstairs, found Korban, and between the two of them, made enough racket to wake my neighbors. Well, lest we (Korban and I) become a stench in in the neighbors' nostrils (and you know my country has enough bad smells as it is), something had to be done. Korban was living in fear, afraid to even come upstairs to eat. I do have to say Bul Peshu was being really systematic about this - first she ran him out of the bedroom, then down the stairs, and then she went after him in the basement of the house. This cat definitely had a plan. What a general she would have made!

What to do, what to do??? I called a another friend who had offered to keep Bul Peshu. She came and got Bul Peshu this morning, much to Korban's relief. He is still walking rather tentatively, looking over his shoulder now and then. But overall, he has had a very peaceful afternoon and seems to be recovering nicely. OK, lesson learned - don't be too quick to take on other people's children (or their cats) - it just might be more than you bargain for!

Random Acts of Kindness Received

I arrived back at home from Dubai last week. I want to tell you about the best day in Dubai. It was the last week of my stay there. A friend and I rented a car and drove to the beach in one of the other Emirates - Fujairah. I drove as the car was automatic and they drive on the CORRECT side of the road there. Fujairah was about two hours away and a pleasant drive. We hung out on the beach at the Hilton (for a small fee) and spend the day contemplating the waves, enjoying each other's company and just generally hanging out. After we had supper at the Hilton. It was such a perfect day!

Ok, I have to comment on the driving. Driving in Dubai was like coming home to heaven - Houston by name. The roads were filled with construction, the drivers were crazy, and the exit signs change by the day. Oh, how I have missed that place!!! I have not driven at all in my country - 7 months of smiling politely and saying thank you to friends, a myriad assortment of taxi and rickshaw drivers, and sometimes nice strangers who offer a ride - yes, I have taken a few of those. Ok, I am going to chase a rabbit here. It was December 24th and a friend and I were attempting to shop - me for Christmas presents (oh, oh, how the organized have fallen!) and her for - well, I don't remember. Anyway, we didn't know the way to a certain store - Jan's Arcade by name. The rickshaw driver was getting frustrated and we were beginning to feeling like stupid white women (no comments on that one, please!). So my friend goes in a store to ask the way to Jan's Arcade. Out she comes with a very -sweet Pakistani lady who was talking a mile a minute and playing 20 Questions x 100. Fortunely, all this was in English or I might still be playing 20 Questions. The upshot of all this was the lady felt sorry for us and offered to let her driver take us to our store of choice after he dropped her off at home. Without further ado I climbed out of the rickshaw and into the car with this woman whom I have never seen before or since. It was a very pleasant ride and we got where we needed to go. Perhaps she was an angel in disguise - I suppose I shall never know. In any case, I am grateful for that act of kindness. If I had my own car here and the measure of independence that I enjoyed in the States, I would never have experienced the kindness and generosity of this person.

Recently, while on vacation in Hunza, my friend Leah and I were hiking the two hours down the mountain to get something to eat in the village. A van with several people pulls up beside us and motions for us to get in. Again, without further prompting, we hop in. Something I would never do in America - I was always Miss Cautious and certainly Ms. In Control there! But here it is different - come visit me and we will go to the roof of the world and catch rides down the mountain with kind strangers! One of these days, I might even try hitchhiking! Humm, I wonder what it would be like to hitchhike in a burka???? Just kidding!!!

P.S. I will be posting some Smileboxes with pictures of the Dubai vacation shortly - stay tuned for sand and surf!

Leah

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Currents

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Hunza Adventure

Below are some pictures of the recent trip to Hunza. It was an amazing trip with many adventures - I wish we could sit and chitchat for a couple of hours and I would tell you all about it! But as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words! Blessings be upon you!

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A Love Affair to Remember

Hello all. I have been cooking a lot lately (I think I said that in the last entry) and I wanted to share with you a little bit about this on-going love affair. Yes, it has been a consuming and steady passion of mind since I was a little girl. Frankly, I don't understand people who don't like to cook. I respect their decision not to indulge in this so pleasant enterprise but find them, in the words of my British friends - a little dodgy. Sometimes I even like them and we become great friends but, just between you and me, they are still a little strange. Are they just too impatient to take the time to create? Do they have a secret aversion to getting their hands dirty? Was it a childhood phobia that caused them to break in hives when they came within fifty feet of a mixing bowl? Or perhaps their mothers were such good cooks that they never tried to learn and consequently reached adulthood thinking boiling water was a culinary accomplishment.

My first dish (at the age of 4) was scrambled eggs. As the years progressed, I migrated to that 1970s heavier than cast iron, old faithful - the casserole! I learned to make pie crust about the age of 10 or 11 - the first recipe I tried was an oil pastry and it was a dismal failure (yes, I have had my share of those - I just don't take them to parties!) I finally tried a basic betty crocker (good ole Betty!)crust and have used that ever since. As a teenager, I did Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners - my brother Danny still remembers those meals with fondness or so rumor has it.

Now Danny - he's another story. There was the time when I came home from college and arrived to find basically nothing in the house (food wise, that is - there were still a few sticks of furniture lying around). Now there was a family reunion on the calendar for the next day. Heaven forbid one should show up at a Walker/Baker/whatever, whatever, family reunion without GOOD food and PLENTY of it in tow. So I scrounged around and came up with butter, flour, milk and bananas. Well, being the creative and talented cook that I am, I made a banana cream pie. Proceeding to the next day - the six Walkers packed in a car on the way to the family reunion (wouldn't you like to be a fly on that wall) - we stop at Wal-Mart. I leave the pie in the backseat of the car. Having concluded our business at Wal-Mart, we proceed to return to the car. Danny sits down - you guessed it - right in the pie!!!! Cheers, Danny!!!!!!!!!! That was not the only time he sat in something of a similar nature but we will save that story for another time.

Proceeding in the cooking history - the next great milestone was California. Yep, you heard right - the state. Now some of you know this place to be a heathen and godless land. One of my cousins, who shall remain unnamed, even wished it to fall into the sea. Fortunately, she made this statement when I was no longer living there. Be as it may, they do know how to eat. California changed my taste buds and my cooking habits forever. There was a Whole Foods very close to where I lived. As an unripe 23 year old, I would wander in just to look. I didn't buy very much but I sure liked to read the names on the packages. Things like Italian Gorgonzola,
corn tamales (oh, those were heavenly), biscotti, and more pasta than you can shake a stick at. I ate my first Chinese food and my first Indian food during this time in CA. From the first bite, I fell in love with Indian food. The spices were so familiar but used in such different ways - and then cool, soothing yogart to mellow out the spices.

So my premise has always been if I can eat it, I can cook it. Slowly, I began to learn to do things a little differently. Along the way, there was a move back to South Texas - Mex-Tex capital of the world. Throw in a little chili powder and some cheese on top and - voila!!! The best Mexican food in the world.

Currently, I am on a dessert kick. My dessert making had stayed stuck somewhere in the 1950s - pound cakes, boring (but homemade) pies, cobblers, just same old, same old. So now I am scaling new heights. Most lately I have tried a recipe for lemon raisin scones. The next week I changed the recipe and made chocolate chip scones with a hint of orange flavor. And just yesterday, I made a cherry crostata. It tasted great but I call it the ugly baby - loved and worked on but still a little wrinkled. Well, it was supposed to look rustic, ok. Let me know if you want the recipe - I would be glad to pass it along.

Walnut Raisin Scones

Hello all. I have been a baking mood the last few weeks. It is not so much that I like eat (which I certainly do!) but more for the creativity of the thing. Also, it seems that I have tons of people in and out of my house on a daily basis (house help, language teacher, language coach, friends, neighbors) and I like to have something on hand to serve them. The other day I made scones for the first time and they came out very well. I am going to post the recipe below. Also, I plan to try these with chocolate chips and orange zest instead of the raisins and lemon zest. If anyone gets there before I do, let me know how yours turn out. Bon Appetite!

Walnut Raisin Scones

2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons white sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon grated lemon zest
1/2 cup butter, cubed
3/4 cup chopped walnuts
1/2 cup raisins
3/4 cup buttermilk
2 tablespoons buttermilk
2 tablespoons white sugar
2 tablespoons chopped walnuts
Powerdered Sugar

1.In a large bowl combine flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt and lemon peel.
2.With a pastry blender or 2 knives, cut in butter until mixture resembles coarse meal. Mix in all but 2 tablespoons of the nuts and the raisins. Mix in buttermilk with fork.
3.Gather the dough into a ball and knead for about 2 minutes on lightly floured board.
4.Roll or pat out 3/4 inch thick. With a chef's knife cut into 3 inch triangles. Place, spaced 1inch apart, on a greased baking sheet. Brush tops with remaining 1 tablespoon buttermilk; sprinkle with the remaining sugar and the nuts.
5.Bake in center of 425 degree F (220 degrees C) oven about 15 minutes or until nicely browned. Dust with powerdered sugar if desired. Serve warm with butter or jam.

Sweet Pea

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Humble Abode

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Pomp and Circumstance

Hello all! I have been in Lahore for the past week and just got back. It was a good trip - I went for an orientation to the country I am currently living in. We covered such diverse topics as cooking, politics, and culture.

Lahore was very cosmopolitan and quite classy. There were nice restaurants, great places to shop, and lots of history to take in. I did several touristy type of things, including seeing the ruins of one of the Mongol palaces. This place is called the Royal Fort and has tons of history. It was constructed by the great Mongol king, Akbar the Great. It is mostly in ruins now but if you let your imagination soar, you can imagine all the grandeur and pomp of the ancient East. What captured my attention the most was what our guide politely referred to as 'the women's quarters.' Another words, the king's harem. In the mind's eye, I could see beautiful dancing girls, dark men with flashing white teeth lounging on opulent cushions, and smell the exotic foods, fit for a king. There was also a private entrance for the family and a parking area for the elephants.

We also did the border ceremony at Wagua - the border between India and Pakistan.At sunset every evening the guards lower their respective flags of India and Pakistan. There is a cermony that goes with it and people of each nation fill the stands to cheer their country on. It was a good show, including a great deal of posturing and gesturing between the guards (the countries really don't like each other and it shows!). I think, all things told, this was Pakistan at it's best - full of extravagant gestures, pomp, and cleaner than I had ever seen it.

Mother to Son

Mother to Son

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

Langston Hughes

A Corbin Tale

OK folks. I have a Corbin tale for you. Just as an update, Corbin got fixed (ummmm...I am not going to explain that one for all you non-animal lovers out there) on Sunday. I think they gave him too much anesthetic and he was extremely groggy and throwing up (who says I've never been a mother???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). Yes, yours truly cleaned it up. On Monday he was draggy and not his usual self. I was very worried about him and wondered if his personality was permanently altered. Ha! Have no fears - he is now back in full Corbin form. I rather suspected that he was feeling better yesterday when he tried to bit my hand at his usual ungodly hour (about 7:00 am). So he bites the hand that feeds him - he doesn't really care - he knows he will get breakfast anyway.

However, this morning, he reached new heights of peshu badness. I was sitting quietly in my living room, minding my own business when I hear a commotion going on downstairs. The mother from downstairs and one of the daughters come dashing up the stairs, Peshu in the lead. The mother was chasing Peshu with a broom and he was moving rather quickly for a cat who had surgery two days ago. Now the family downstairs is very good and they NEVER do this sort of thing - so I knew something was up. It turns out Peshu had a baby bird in his mouth. Broom or no broom, he was not going to let go of this bird. After being chased up the stairs, into my store room, and out of the store room, he was finally persuaded by the broom (with the mother behind it) to drop the baby bird. As an addendum for all you bird lovers out there, the bird did survive the ordeal and appears to be recovering nicely. Actually, the bird will probably fare better than Peshu when I get aholt of him - that's country talk for getting my hands on his scrawny little body. He is still hiding out at the moment but I am sure he will emerge shortly - after all, lunch is pending and he missed his morning snack - feathers and all.

Sam Houston

Do you ever have things to do that you intend to do as a tradition and never quite get around to it? I'm funny like that. I have things that for years I have planned to do as a tradition and never quite get around to it. Like playing Michael Card CDs on Sunday morning. I haven't done that in years but if you ask me, it is still my tradition. Also, I have a tradition of eating Chinese food on my oldest nephew's birthday - don't ask me why. I have never eaten Chinese food with him but on the anniversary of his 1st birthday, I was sitting in a Chinese restaurant at the exact moment he was born. Traditions are funny things - they do not have to be observed to be remembered.

Another thing that I have never done and intend to do someday is bake a cake for Sam Houston's birthday. Sam Houston's birthday is March 2nd and coincidentally, March
2nd is also Texas Independence Day. For all you non-Texan (ummm, heathen) folk out there, Sam Houston was one of the greatest of Texas legends. A giant of a man, he had many faults, some private and some very public. At one point in his life, he was called 'Big Drunk' by the Indians he lived with. Later in his life, he sobered up and married a Baptist preacher's daughter (second wife - the first wife left him mysteriously and neither of them ever talked about it). Anyway, he was a Tennessee governor who basically left the office in disgrace and came to Texas. History was waiting for him. He came to Texas just in time to get involved in the sticky politics between Texas and Mexico. At that time, Texas was under Mexican rule. Sam Houston was the hero of the Battle of Jacinto and the first president of Texas. He died during the Civil War, opposing slavery but never seeing the end of the story.

In memory of Sam Houston, here is a recipe for Sam Houston Cake. I have not tried this recipe so if anyone does make it, please me know how it comes out - another March 2nd will be here soon and there are traditions to be observed.

SAM HOUSTON WHITE CAKE

3/4 cup butter or margarine
2 cups granulated sugar
3 cups sifted flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup milk
1/3 cup water
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/3 teaspoon almond flavoring
6 egg whites
Cream butter until soft and light. Gradually add granulated sugar and continue creaming several minutes to incorporate as much air as possible. Combine flour, baking powder and salt; sift three times. Add flavorings to milk and water. Add flour alternately with liquid to creamed mixture; beat well after each addition. Beat egg whites until stiff, but not dry; fold immediately into batter, blending well but do not beat. Pour into three greased and floured 9-inch layered pans. Bake at 350 F., 25 minutes. Cool five minutes, then turn onto cooling racks and remove pans. When cool, fill and frost with:

SHINY CHOCOLATE FROSTING
Melt three 1-ounce squares unsweetened chocolate over hot water. Remove from water and stir in 3 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar, 1/4 teaspoon salt and 1/4 cup hot water. One at a time, beat in 3 eggs’ yolks. Beating well, add 1/4 cup melted butter, a little at a time, and 1 teaspoon vanilla. Spread between layers and over cake.

Hosanna, Hosanna!

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The Spirit of Adventure

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The Weaving

The Weaving

The weaving that made me
from the cradle
was a wondrous thing
Tales of ancient days
And times beyond the years
Troubadours of word and song
sagas of legend thrilling
beyond imagination
of great houses
that rose and fell
on a sovereign’s sigh

Stories of giants and shepard boys
Of prophets that could whistle
chariots from the sky
A vineyard stole and a king rebuked
A God who could make people see
And then weep for their blindness

And now I am old
Old than my years, it seems
Yet the stories have never
Become child’s fancy
A God who interferes in human affairs
How quaint!
Yet a lame man stood tall
And a boy named Laughter
Rode his old father’s bony knee

And I believe
Oh, I believe
Every jot and tittle
And I crave the day
When I can hear the story
From Tamar’s lips
And see Paul’s eyes blaze
and to see Moses point his finger
In majestic command
I long to see Job throw back his head in laughter
And hear the poetry dance in Isaiah’s words

And the reminisces will be long
And deep
And the words will roll on forever
And forever
Slow and steady
Majestic and stately
A little funny
And a belly roaring good time
And finally,
My head pillowed on folded arms
As I fall asleep to the story,
A child again

rrw
Winter 2007

I'm Back

All,

I am back in my city from Thailand. I arrived late Monday night. The last couple of days have been rather low key - I have been recovering from the vacation :)I now have a working camera so I will posting pictures on my blogsite more often. Corbin is doing fine - feisty as ever!

Painting Pictures of Egypt

I found a song that so perfectly describes my feelings right now. It is a lot of Houston and a little bit of Thailand. It is by Sara Groves and off of her 'Conversations' CD. Here are the words:

Painting Pictures of Egypt

I don't want to leave here, I don't want to stay
It feels like pinching to me either way
The places I long for the most are places where I've been
They are calling out to me like a long lost friend
It's not about losing faith, it's not about trust
It's all about comfortable when you move so much
The place I was wasn't perfect but I had found a way to live
It wasn't milk or honey but then neither is this

The past is so tangible, I know it by heart,
familiar things are never easy to discard.
I was longing for some freedom, but now I hesitate to go
I am caught between the promise and the things I know

If it comes too quick, I may not recognize it.
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?
If it comes too quick, I may not appreciate it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?

Chorus: I've been painting pictures of Egypt, leaving out what it lacked.
The future feels so hard and I want to go back.
But the places that used to fit me cannot hold the things I've learned,
and those roads were closed off to me while my back was turned.

Elephant Riding

Today was a fun day and I really want to tell you about it! My day started officially started about 8:25 this morning. I was supposed to meet a group from our conference for this elephant tour. So I hurriedly finished breakfast and went out to the front of the hotel to catch the tour. Since no one I really knew well was going, I was essentially going by myself. So when I get to the front of the hotel, I say "elephant tour?" They say "Yes, yes, the van by the juniper tree." So I get in the van and off we go. We traveled for about an hour outside of Chiang Mai into the mountains. The scenery was beautiful. It was like being in Kentucky or Tennessee but the houses were on stilts. The rainy season lasts for 6 months out of the year, causing the river to rise, hence the stilts. When we arrived, we first took bamboo rafts down the river. This was a totally cool experience. The bamboo rafts were exactly that - pieces of bamboo with little wooden seats on them - Huck Fin goes to Thailand! The ride down the river lasted a good 45 minutes, I would say. It was so peaceful! The river was shallow and in some places the bottom was only a foot or so down. The rafts were powered by our Thai guides poling the rafts with long bamboo sticks. The river was winding with gentle bends and draping greenery on the banks. When we finally arrived, we were taken by ox-cart to the elephant boarding zone. Also, let me add that this whole set up was run by a certain tribe and we were taken to their village. The tribe is called the Lee Sue people. They sold handicrafts in their village. I got a beautiful carved black vase. By this time, I had made a couple of new friends, and one of them, a lady named Cynthia from Nebraska, was my seat partner for the elephant ride. We were told the elephant that we rode on was pregnant. She did seem rather hungry as there were several stops along the way where snacks (sugar cane, bamboo, bananas) were being sold to the tourists so they could feed the elephants. Every time we arrived at one of these stands, she put her trunk up in search of her snack. The elephant ride itself was rather bouncy as a lot of it was going down steep trails. After the elephant ride, we were served an excellent lunch on the patio overlooking the river.All in all, it was a lovely time and a very fun day .

OK - here's the best part. After the tour is over, the lady who arranged the tour came over to collect money. I say, "I've already paid" - I had paid the night before. She looks a little puzzled and to make a long story short, when it was all sorted out, I had been on the wrong tour all along! Apparently, there were several elephant tours leaving from the hotel about the same time and I got the wrong one! However, I have to say that it was probably a better tour that the one that I had originally planned to go on. Also, I made some new friends and had a great time - perhaps God in His Wisdom arranged the 'wrong' tour to the be 'right' one after all!

From a Tropical Place

I am in Thailand attending a conference and on vacation. I will be here until early March. This city is in northern Thailand and is beautiful. I am enjoying my time here. I got a lens for my new camera yesterday so I should have pictures to post very soon. In the meantime, the mild tropical climate is great - the city is nestled in the foothills of a mountain range. So far I have done the conference thing, the local Zoo, a luxurious spa treatment, and a bit of shopping. But to quote Joshua, age ten, "you know the best thing about being here is that the electricity hasn't gone off once!"

Rugs

Rugs, especially handmade ones, are a speciality in this area. I have had one family member who has requested a rug for this part of the world. If anyone else would like a rug, let me know the following information:

1) how much you want to spend, including postage
2) approximate size
3) colors preferred
4) handwoven or machine woven

I woud be more than happy to look and see what I can find! Here is a picture the rug I got for my cousin. This is one is handwoven, made of silk and wool.

Wool Thief

Ok - I have another Corbin story. This cat does something funny everyday - there is no lack of material regarding him. Today I was talking on the phone in my living room and I happened to glance up at the stairs that go to the roof. I observed my peshu (cat in the local language) trotting as fast as his little legs would carry him down the stairs with a large hunk of something in his mouth. Upon investigation, I learned that he had made off with Grandma's wool. The grandmother of the family downstairs takes old blankets apart to reuse the wool - this is something traditionally done in this country, so I understand. Anyway, on sunny days, she will go up on the roof and do this. This not the first time I have found bits and pieces of wool on my floor but this is first time that the little stinker has dared to take so much. I kid you not - he had a piece of wool in his mouth that was probably half the size of him. He looked very disappointed that his play pretty had been taken away when it was return to Grandma and the roof. Oh, such a naughty boy!

A Corbin Story

OK, anyone who knows me knows I love cats. My cousin wrote me an e-mail and said, 'Knowing your fondness for the species...' That inspired a Corbin story. Just to introduce those of you who missed my great announcement - I acquired a Siamese kitten at the end of November 2007. He is now about 3 months old and as one of my friends said "He has character" - I would have to agreed he has that all right! In short, he is a naughty, naughty boy when awake but an angel when he sleeps.

OK, here goes. I am using sand for cat litter here - it is much cheaper and does the job just as well. Anyway, I have a bag of sand at the bottom of my stairs that was too heavy to haul up the stairs. Corbin's litter box (bowl actually) is upstairs in my store room. I came in from shopping yesterday and happened to notice there had been certain deposits in the bag of sand downstairs. I went down a little later to confirm this and to clean it out. Sure enough, my little guy had helped himself to what he correctly perceived to be clean sand. As I was taking care of his business, he was standing at the top of the stairs watching me. I could tell by the look on his face he knew he was in trouble. I used my best momma voice and said 'PESHU' - he turned and ran for the store room! I later informed him that if he continues to poop in odd places, then Momma will be most unhappy! I asked if he understood in four languages - capishe (Italian), comprehende (Spanish), understand (English) and po hey gum (Pushtu). He assured me in cat that he did indeed understand and this issue would not arise again. At this point, all I can do is take his word (in cat, of course) for it.

Another Good Day

Dear friends and family,

I have not blogged in almost a week - a little down at the mouth, sick one day and dragging the next. And quite frankly, life has not been too excited - other than the power going off about every 10 seconds!

Corbin is doing very well. He is growing like a weed and is a naughty naughty boy! He is an angel when he sleeps, though. Just a few minutes ago he figured out how to push open the living room door. It was slightly cracked on purpose - I want to him to learn to open doors so I will not have to let him in and out continually. Anyway, in typical Corbin fashion, he launched his whole little body at the door and voila! To his amazement, it opened! Good job, Corbin!

Today was an excellent day. I had quite a bit of activity and felt that I got some things accomplished. This morning I went to the American Bazaar with my language teacher and another one of the ex-pats. Just to clarify, the term 'American Bazaar' has nothing to do with the layout or the business owners - it is the goods that give it this label. This place is an amazing collection of shops that have goods that apparently were intended for the country right across the border. Well, apparently, these goods make a regular and tidy habit of 'falling off the truck.' Hence the name of the area 'Smuggler's Bazaar.' It is one of those places you never know what you will find. This is the first time I had been out there and I will go again because the prices are good and the variety is excellent. I found such things as Campbell's Mushroom soup, Lucky Leaf Pie filling, yams in an restaurant size can, McCormick's basil, and last but not least, tampons! Amazing! They do have quite a few 'P' products also but those I can get in town for the most part.

In the afternoon, I went with Geena (my house help) to look for furniture. We were supposed to go to Old City but did not get to do that. We went to a second hand bazaar some distance from my house.I was looking for a table and an amorey (armoire) to put in my 'office.' Nothing fancy - I just needed a table and a storage cabinet basically. Armories are very common here - most of the houses that I have seen do not have closets - they just use armories (amorey in the local language). Anyway, the last shop we came to was pay dirt. There was a table that was the right size and a good quality for a great price. I also found a second hand amorey - the shop owner is going re-paint it and we will pick it up on Monday. You know, when I count my blessings, I count Geena. She has helped me so much in the set-up of this household. She knows where to go to get the best deals in town - places that I would probably never go to by myself, not knowing the language and the area. She bargains for me and she is good at it. We are gradually working out a system where I indicate interest in something, maybe one of us asks the price and then we go from there. Sometimes I have a hard time reading her if it is a good price or not but I am getting better at this. I think she is also getting more comfortable at telling me yes or no. She can be assertive when she wants to be. She is her mid to late 20s with a husband and one daughter. They live, as most 'P's do, in a communal family setting - aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, etc.

When I got home this afternoon, I had a surprise sitting in the middle of my kitchen floor. It was my stove, on order from a larger city to the east. Alleluia!!! It still needs to be installed but it is in my house and I am dancing on air! Cakes, pies, casseroles, anything that needs an oven - at the fingertips!

OK - enough excitement for one day. Is anyone out there really reading this?? (KB - I know you are - bless you!). In any event - have a blessed day and remember the One who made the moon and stars and makes His mercies shine new every day!

Just An Ordinary Day

Today was just a rather ordinary day. But it was a good day and I want to tell you a little about it. It has been cold and rainy here and I have been in the house for about 3 days. Today was still cold but the sun was shining and I was able to get out a bit. I went first to one of the local bazaars with my house help to get groceries and other supplies for the week. Grocery shopping here is nothing like what I was used to in my place of orgin (I am really trying not to say 'at home' every time I turn around!) Grocery shopping involves an open air market - kind of like a strip mall with little stands of fruits and vegetables. For dry goods and such, there are little stores along the strip.

Later in the afternoon I went with one of my neighbors to one of the large bazaars in town. I was going specifically to find wall decorations and I hit pay dirt. We went into several shops that had 'antiques' - not as in furniture but as in arts and handiwork and such. I got several things that I think are really beautiful. One is a wheat rug. It is basically a heavy mat, dense and weighty. It is cream colored with a brown, almost southwestern looking pattern. I was told that it was a rug used in the villages to sift the chaff from the wheat. Once the wheat was sifted, then there are pockets in the rug so that it can be filled and loaded on a donkey. Apparently this type of thing is used in several countries in this region. I also purchased a wooden frame with two doors that open up. This is meant to be hung on the wall - it is a dark brown and appears to be hand carved. There are two flowers carved into two circles, one on each door. Another item was a brown wall hanging that is horizontal in design and measures about 12 feet. It is about 6 inches wide and has tassels along the bottom. It is a lovely brown color - it was a find because I am doing my living room in tones of brown.

After all this, a friend and her sister's sister-in-law came over for tea late this afternoon. The lights went off but we had a great time anyway.

I think I will mark this day in my memory as the first day that this strange place began to feel like home. Inch by inch and moment by moment, perhaps this place will seep into my heart until I want no other - until I can say with all my heart 'this is home'

English Walnut Date Cake

Here is a recipe I tried for Christmas this year. The ingredients are readily available in my part of the world. When I made it, I pitted and chopped the dates by hand. This took a while but otherwise it is an easy cake to make. As a variation, I think this would lend itself nicely to some apricots stirred into the batter.

English Walnut Date Cake

2 pounds dates, pitted and chopped
2 pounds English walnuts, coarsely chopped
1 cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
4 egg yolks
4 egg whites

Preheat oven to 300 F/150 C. Grease and flour a ten inch tube pan or a bundt pan.

In a large bowl, combine dates, walnuts, sugar, baking powder, and flour. Stir in egg yolks. In a large mixing bowl, beat eggs until stiff peaks form. Fold the whites into the fruit/nut mixture until no streaks remain. Spoon into prepared pan.

Bake in the pre-heated oven for 90 minutes. Let cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack and cool completely.

16 servings

13 Uses for a Chaddar

This a look at life in my new country - from a woman's point of view. In this area, women wear chaddars or saddars (chaddar is Urdu and saddar is Pushtu). Basically, a chuddar is a huge shawl that covers the head and about 3/4s of one's body. Women here wear them in a variety of ways but always to cover the head when going out. Some women cover their faces with them, pulling them across the nose and tucking behind the ears. When at home, it is acceptable to wrap the chaddar as a shaw around the shoulders. For the fashion conscious, they can be draped around one shoulder. If draped on the neck as a scarf with the two ends hanging down the back, it becomes a duppatta (usually a smaller piece of cloth). They come in a variety of colors, textures, and prices and can range from very beautiful to very plain.

Anyway, today I was pondering on the many uses of the chaddar - here some of my unconventional thoughts on this subject.

1) air pollution mask - when out riding around town, I have been known to pull my chuddar over my nose in order to avoid breathing dust laden air.

2)kitten blanket - my little kitten hates to be cold. He loves to curl up for a long nap under my chuddar when I am sitting down.

3) substitute jacket - I have yet to wear a coat since I got here. The chuddar serves as an extra layer of clothing in cold weather.

4) face mask - once, when in a taxi, the taxi driver kept staring at me in his side mirror. Having quickly tired of this, I pulled my chuddar across my face and kept it there for the duration of the ride.

5) Gifts - they made great gifts for female friends (please, none for the other gender!) and are always well received. Given the variety, you can find one to fit any budget and any style.

6) Quick dust catcher - I caught myself wiping off my computer screen with my chuddar today - that is what actually inspired this line of thought.

7) great kitten toy - Corbin loves to play with the tassels on my chuddar and anyone else's who comes within range. They can provide hours of kitten entertainment for a very reasonable price. No fancy toys for this cat!

8) Money talks - I have been known to wad up cash in my hand and hold it under my chuddar. Great place to hide your money!

9) Hand warmer - on cold days, a chuddar is a great thing to bury your hands in.

Ok - these next ones are purely speculative - I have to admit I have not yet tried them - maybe someday!

10) umbrella - it has only rained once in the two months I have been here. I look forward to the day when I can use my chuddar as an makeshift umbrella.

11) Impromptu cushion - self explanatory

12) Flame thrower - as chuddars are worn everywhere, even the kitchen, they can be a bit of a hazard when working around open flames. I would recommend this use when all other uses have been exhausted and you really need to, pardon the express, lighten up!

13) Oh, I forgot the most important use of all - they are great for hiding a bad hair day!!!!!!!!!! No one will ever know the difference, and yes, I have to admit I have tried this one more than once!

A Rickshaw Ride

Today I took a ride in a rickshaw to get a local store. While this may not sound earthshattering, it is a one small step for womankind - this woman at least! You see, this was my first use of public transporation by myself since I arrived here two months and two days ago. I have been out and about in the city frequently but never alone. I have always gone with someone else, usually my househelper. Today was the first time I secured public transporation for myself using what little I know of the local language. I was even able to bargin the driver down a bit - he held up 4 fingers (for 40 rupi) and I said no and held up 3 fingers (for 30 rupi). The great thing is that I was able to commicate and even get a better price than orginally expected. I deliberately picked a store that was easy to get to and was able to give directions in the local language. For me, this is a victory - kind of like learning to ride a bike for the first time. One small step but this means that I am becoming more independent and able to do things on my own.

Please stay tune to this blog for more developments on the public transporation scene!