pointy boobs (and other things about onam)

you see what i did there?  i put the word “boobs” in the title, and as we speak, the hits for this entry are going through the roof 🙂

this lady knows what i’m talking about!

today we had some free time in the morning, so we left the center in priyanka’s car (yay a/c!) and went shopping for some underthings that we would need for our onam (the big upcoming holiday) outfits.  turns out that, under a sari top, you have to wear a pointy bra–the pointier the better.  besides my wedding underwear, i haven’t bought and worn a bra in maybe 6 years, so this was a blast from the past for sure.  we went to a little shop, got measured by the shop girl, and started trying things on.  the first bra i tried was so pointy that it had little empty pockets at the end (stuff it??), so i went with the second (extremely matronly) slightly less pointy one.  man oh man.  talk about feeling like a grandma!

after procuring our underthings, we drove down to m.g. road (mahatma gandhi road, india’s corollary to mlk boulevard in the u.s.–one in every city) to buy what we needed for our holiday outfits.

kerala set mundu

priyanka decided to take us to a store called jayalakshmi, because we would be able to get most, if not all, of what we needed in one place if we started there.  donna and i were looking for material to make our traditional kerala outfits out of for the upcoming holiday–we needed material for our sari blouses (cholis in hindi), either a sari (which i got) or a set mundu (which donna got), and underskirts.

jayalakshmi was a trip!  it was 4 floors of the busiest, most bustling, brightest, flashiest material you’ve ever seen.  there were ready-made clothes, heaps of beautiful fabrics to be cut and tailored, stoles and scarves, tons of identically dressed shop girls, and about a thousand people over the fire code limit for shoppers.  

kerala sari

the bottom three floors had regular clothing, but the top floor was the bridal section. i have never seen such in my life!  indian bridal wear is beautiful–rich colors, bejeweled and gold-embellished fabrics–about as different from american bridal wear as you can get.  priyanka wanted to give us a taste of the bridal experience, so we sat on the upstairs sofas (“no, no.  we’re just waiting to meet someone.  why yes, we’d love coffee!”) and watched from the corners of our eyes as a young bride tried on yard after yard of blindingly jeweled purple and gold fabrics.  the family, the groom, and the groom’s family were seated in a row of chairs admiring the young woman on the pedestal, her face all lit up with smiles.

but on to our task.  the traditional onam-wear is either a sari or a set mundu in white with a gold (yes real gold thread) border.  the sari is one long piece wrapped and pleated in the front (you’ve seen this before) and the set mundu is a wrapped skirt and over-the-shoulder piece that’s separate.  you can choose either plain gold and white with a gold blouse (choli), or you can get gold with colored accents and then a colored blouse to match.  i got the gold and white with material for a gold top, and donna got the gold and white with a gold and purple brocade for the top.  donna found an underskirt, but my size stumped the shop girl, who handed me a (waaaaay too small) underskirt and took me to the dressing rooms “just to try”—needless to say, it made it to about my knees and would go no higher.  

so we left jayalakshmi with my sari and material for a gold top, as well as donna’s set mundu, under skirt, and brocade material.

on to the tailor!

at the tailor’s place, we were measured in a billion different places (while wearing the ever-important pointy bras!) so that the material we bought could be made into custom blouses for our outfits.  in india (much unlike the states) it is waaaaay cheaper to have your clothes made than to buy them ready made.  for instance, the brocade that donna bought for around $1.50 a yard here would easily have been $25 a yard in the states.

so our blouses and my underskirt are being made at the tailors, and the rest is ready to go.  i’ve got about 2 weeks to learn how to wrap a sari (eeek!) and then (baring births) we’ll have a well-dressed day of holiday celebrations on the 13th.  there will be many pictures, i promise 🙂

if you’re lucky, there will even be pointy bra pics.

to be continued…

a preemptive open letter of apology

to whom it may concern:

i have answered a strange and wonderful calling–one deeply and fully lived by those who give into it and one oft misunderstood by those whose lives it touches at the periphery.  i am a midwife.  this means many things to me, but for those of you who know and love me, i need you to understand what this may mean for you.

at the heart, it means that my life is (voluntarily) not my own, and it means that my first priority is the women who i serve.

midwifery is a strange job–i can think of few that compare.  this isn’t something i’ll do from 9 to 5 less weekends and two weeks of yearly vacation.  this isn’t something that’s predictable, office-based, or stable, and it is often without steady and predictable remuneration.  it isn’t something i can “leave at work” when i leave work–it will pervade every crevice of my life until the day that i hang up my little red pillbox hat and cape. 

much like ministers and others who tend to the needs of those on the other end of the spectrum–the dying–midwives are modern-day priestesses whose lives of service are dictated by the chaotic and unpredictable rhythms of birth.  

for you, this may mean one or more of the following:

i will have to cancel appointments at the last minute.  hopefully this won’t cause you financial hardship, and hopefully you’ll be flexible enough to squeeze me in at another time.

that lunch we were planning (since you and i haven’t seen each other in years!) will have to be rescheduled.  when?  i don’t know!

i will have to leave during first birthday parties, and maybe just before present-opening time at the winter solstice. (babies love it when you have plans)

class will be cancelled (don’t look so excited)

no, i can’t go on that fantastic planned-at-the-last-minute 5 day excursion into the wilds of maine with you.  i need nine months notice next time, please.

i’m so happy you’re getting married (finally?  again?  in bali?) and i regret to inform you that i won’t be able to make it–i have 5 women due during that month.

no, we can’t carpool.  i’m on call and may have to leave at a moment’s notice.

i am sorry we’ve had to reschedule 5 times.  it’s not you–it’s me.

yes, this sex is phenomenal–but my client is calling so i’ve got to go pack and you’ve got to go shovel out my car.

here are the kids–i don’t know when i’ll be home–good luck.

the brunt of this will certainly fall on my immediate family, but living a life on call affects everyone around me and requires mental leaps, compassion, and a great deal of understanding.  otherwise, i just look like an asshole.

so for those of you who love me, my apologies in advance for bungling x, y, and z.  it’s just the nature of my job, and it’s what i have to sacrifice to answer my calling to midwifery.  please be flexible, open, and have a sense of humor where timing is concerned, and know that (one day) i will indeed retire.  until then, i can’t do this without your support.

blessings,

A

a word on last names…

heaven help the person who wants to do any sort of genealogy in india!  last names here are a trip–they’re a much more fluid/non-linear way of preserving family lines than our father’s-last-name-to-everyone tradition, and they allow for much more in the way of personal preference.  

so in the states (as you know) most women take their husband’s last name when they marry, and then their children inherit this name as well.  variations to this include hyphenated last names (which can be fun when a person with a hyphenated last name marries a person with a hyphenated last name (paging mrs. jones-smith-huntington-ratliff!) and women who keep their names (and then kids usually get dad’s name).  it isn’t completely unheard of for a man to take his wife’s last name, but the legal backflipping you have to do to make it work is pretty intense.

here, children are sometimes given their mother’s first name or their father’s first name as their last name (hence so many indians with last names that are recognizable english first names).  when a woman marries, she sometimes takes her husband’s last name, or she can take her husband’s first name as her last name, or she can take her husband’s initials as her last name, or she may take no last name at all–we have clients in each of these categories currently.  really, it’s whatever you want to do.

also interesting to note, you can also (usually) tell a person’s religion and caste if you know their full names.  many christians have one biblical name as either a first or middle name, or their last name might be a male christian name.  hindus tend to have indian names through and through, and muslims are much like the christians (they may have an arabic name somewhere in their full title).  there are exceptions to all of these of course, so you may be better off going by jewelry rather than names, but this gives a rough idea.  

as far as telling caste, i’ve got no clue–i think it’s something you have to have much more of a cultural feel for–some sort of caste-dar.  when in doubt, observe a person’s mode of transportation (in ascending order: on foot, by bus, by auto, by taxi, by crappy car, by middlin’ car, by fancy car).

on a related note, i took stephen’s last name because i particularly like it (if i’d married stephen j. crapper, i would have kept my own), and i’d prefer not to be called carmen abigail stephen or carmen abigail s.l.—just sayin’ 

to be continued…

 

waiting on birthapalooza

my apologies for not having great things to write about lately.  the truth is that i’m busy doing nothing but waiting.  we had a few false alarms with births this past week or two, but so far, our august mommas are just stacking up on top of one another.   we’re currently on call for 5 women, and we’re all sitting around waiting for the first one to go (and christen the new and improved solar-heated hot water for the birth pool–yay for not having to tote water up all those stairs!)

other goings on include independence day, where donna and i went to a fancy-pants hotel restaurant and were the only people there (hmmmmm).  also, we’ve been to fort cochin for the past two weekends to eat yummy food, hear music, see other pals of birthvillage, and enjoy india’s wee selection of red wine.

i got some of my progesterone testing done last week, but due to the holiday, i missed my most crucial day, so i may have to re-do it next month.  we shall see!

for now, it’s a game of betting on who’s going to go first.  more excitement coming soon, hopefully!

to be continued…

hardcore neck sniffing (sort of semi-adult content!)

so before we start, i want you to watch this hot and heavy south indian porn clip. (*note–i cannot be held responsible for what this will do to your youtube suggested videos or your search history!  also, my wp stats show that less than half of the people who click this article actually watch the  clip.  it won’t be funny unless you do!  for you milktoast types, it’s not actually indecent).

yep.  here in kerala, that stuff is hardcore.  because of the culture differences with regard to sex (or any physical contact between men and women for that matter) , kissing, nudity, etc. is simply not part of a love scene, or even a porno.  things are changing a bit now, more towards the western idea of pornography, but up until now, this has been the case in movies here in kerala.

one friend said that when she was growing up, there was a porno theater in town that showed nothing but this sensual neck-sniffing kind of movie.  apparently it was enough for that generation of men though, because, umm….. let’s just say the seats (and aisles, and walls, etc.) were NOT up to osha standards of cleanliness when a film was through.

this cleaned-up version of sexuality pervades almost everything i’ve seen on tv here, although the extent of my indian tv-watching so far has been what i get at the gym while i’m on the treadmill.  one channel shows nothing but back to back song numbers from old bollywood and south indian movies (kind of like a turner classics meets old school mtv), and another shows current song and dance numbers.  both contain such incredibly sensuous elements–the looks exchanged between people, lots of playing hard-to-get, tons of pelvic-thrusting-floor-crawling belly dance–but men and women never actually kiss (and when they do, the actors and actresses use doubles).  essentially, indian film has perfected the cat-and-mouse game, but you never see the cat catch the mouse.

sexy big guh

another interesting (and faaaabulous) aspect of south indian porn is that the female actresses in the older non-westernized movies were, for the most part, LARGE WOMEN!   apparently more flesh means more enticement, and men just can’t help themselves when a woman is voluptuous.  (*on a side note, and as i’ve previously mentioned, most female tv personalities seem to be rather sizeable as well.)

and while we’re on the subject of all things adult, some friends got a real kick out of the fact that we call breasts ta-tas, because tata is a HUGE company here in india.  also, there are posters everywhere for the movie “jism 2”—which, while sexy, is not about what it’s name (in english) might imply.  the last dirty tidbit i’ll leave you with today is more funny signage.  there’s a business we pass a lot at night called fine arts plastics, and they have a neon sign out front that flashes all night long—FAP…FAP…FAP…FAP.

there now.  hope i didn’t offend.  just needed to share some of the dirtydirty from southern india!

to be continued….

ramadan mubarak!

today is eid al-fitr (usually just called eid “eed”) the final day of the month of ramadan, the ninth month in the islamic lunar calendar.  ramadan, thought to be the month when muhammad received his first teachings,  is a month of fasting, and folks are pretty hardcore about it (not like lent in the US where you can be like “umm, yeah, i’m giving up ferrero rochers and playing x-box after 10pm”)–these folks don’t eat from 4:30 am to 6:30 pm for 30 days, period.  strict adherents also forgo water, sex, swearing, and sometimes even swallowing their own saliva (hence all the spitting men i’ve seen since i got here!)

happy ramadan!

fasting is one of the five pillars of islam (fasting, profession of faith, hajj to mecca, charitable giving, and prayer) and it is supposed to give one 1) a chance to have time for religious contemplation and study, 2) an opportunity to separate oneself from worldliness and worldly desires, 3) an occasion to cultivate self-discipline, 4) time to reflect on the plight of those who go without (thus inspiring members to charitable giving), and 5) an opportunity to garner spiritual reward for oneself through self-denial and through charitable acts like providing food with which the poor can break their fasts.

to anyone who grew up in one of the abrahamic religions, this should all sound familiar.  (tangent:  for those of you who follow earth-based or goddess paths, look for a blog sometime in the future on the 7 pillars of pagan spirituality.)

lest you worry that folks aren’t eating during ramadan (and know that many people like pregnant women and sick people are exempt!), there is pllllllenty of food happening, albeit at specific times.

during this month, the day begins with a pre-dawn meal (around 4:30) called suhoor.  because muslims are as diverse in their nationalities as christians, i can’t really say what’s supposed to be eaten–folks just eat what they eat and it’s different from place to place.  after suhoor, there is no eating until iftar, the 6:30 pm meal.  this meal is begun with water or lemon juice and three dates, and then folks tuck into anything from ordinary to extravagant spreads of food.  this meal is usually highly social, and some of the restaurants around kochi cater to the muslim population with iftar meals.

because “when in rome,” donna, priyanka and i decided to do a ramadan fast day and to end it with a traditional iftar meal.  let’s just say the verdict is that i would make a terrible muslim! 🙂

donna set her clock for early early so that we could get up and have our suhoor meal–well, we missed that.  slept right through it.  great!  oh well, i figured it might actually help because not eating at all in the morning means that i’m not hungry until late afternoon, whereas eating an early breakfast means that i’m ready for more food soon.  not sure if it was the fact that i *couldn’t* eat that day or what, but this was, sadly, not the way things went.  at least we had the good sense to move gym day to thursday.

some admissions:  i did have water–tons of it.  as much as i sweat in this country, i didn’t really feel safe not drinking.  now, for the tiny cup of coffee, i can come up with no good excuses, just lame reasons.  reason 1:  it was coffee.  reason 2:  chechi brought it to me and there was no one here to explain to her in malayalam that we were fasting.  reason 3:  but donna did it toooooooooo!  you’re welcome for me not turning into a coffee-less beast!

making it through the day was rough—i suspect this was because we were missing the other important component of this fast–faith.  when you don’t feel like someone is helping you through your day, and when you don’t believe that you will receive spiritual rewards for your suffering, it makes things harder (plus i can imagine a ruddy-cheeked goddess laughing her belly-jiggling laughs at us for our foray into the patriarchal world of self-denial and sacrifice).

mostly, we did nothing but lounge around, nap, and bemoan our situation.  there was some cursing, but not from me (though this was just as hard as the not-eating bit).  we ran some errands and did one postpartum appointment at home in the afternoon, but still, time just dripped by like cold molasses.

ok girls, look hungry and impatient!

FINALLY around 6:15, we went to a restaurant called naushad the big chef to break our fast and have iftar.  this was more torture.  we sat at our table, and they brought out drinks, a big plate of sweet and savory appetizers, and a plate of fruit (complete with the oh-so-important dates), BUT it wasn’t 6:30 yet. add to this the fact that the restaurant’s clock was around 10 minutes slow compared to our phones, and you have three hungry, miserable girls.  there was much wide-eyed silence at that table, punctuated by laughter each time one of us looked up at the others.

finally, they gave the announcement, and the meal began,  lemon water, watermelon juice, dates, papaya, apple, watermelon, cantaloupe, all manner of appetizers, fish curry, chicken curry, veg curry, puttu (steamed rice and coconut), ghee rice, pathiri, ari dosa, and a sweeeeeeet coconut dessert.

ehrmagerd.

once we were finished with our meal, we waddled out to the car.  priyanka said she almost felt drunk, and it was true–a ton of food after a day of fasting sets your mind spinning in the most relaxed way.

all in all an interesting day, but i certainly learned that the action without the faith just makes for a rather miserable day (but with a great ending!).  i’m so enjoying being a part of such a diverse, accepting, and welcoming culture–so unlike much of living in the states!

ramadan mubarak!

to be continued

the various species of genus autodrivericus

autodrivericus religiosus–this auto driver’s cab is plastered with all manner of religious tchotchke (hey, now i know how to spell that word!) from either one or several different religions.  they have been known to create intricate overhead or dashboard shrines consisting of objects like plug-in color-changing fiber-optic virgin marys (maries?), mary and ganesha combo statues, or brass baby krishnas covered in fresh jasmine.  they sometimes cross themselves after passing every church, and they may occasionally stop in traffic, park the auto on the shoulder of the road, and run through 4 (which means 6) lanes of traffic for a quick prayer at the local shrine. 

autodrivericus minimus–autos come in all sizes here, and when you get one of the little tiiiiiny ones, you can’t help but think this guy must be new.  are big autos like driver tenure?  are you just stuck forever with what you’re given? a. minimus has been known to be problematic on rainy mornings, as you simply can’t avoid the wet spot on the back seat, the rain will pour in on you, and the proximity of your side-hindquarters to the road means that passing buses will SOAK you when they hit a puddle.  a. minimus is also hard to get in and out of if you’re a big guh.

autodrivericus blingblinginalis–occasionally, you’ll see an auto that needs a soundtrack–preferably something from shaft (wickawicka bow-wow!).  a.  blingblinginalis has a painstakingly decorated inside, including but not limited to fully-padded vinyl walls and ceilings with intricate patterns appliqued on, tassels hanging from anything that can hold them, religious paraphernalia (see a. religiousus), mood lighting, music, hanging handles, and posters.  a.  blingblinginalis is usually driven by an older man with a smile that says awwwwwwwrite giggitygiggity.   

autodrivericus letsripoffthewhitewomenius–this species is quite rare, thankfully, and is easily identified by his mating call of “that-will-be-two-hundred-forty-rupees-ma’am”.  steer clear of this auto, and identify it early by inquiring price before you ride.

autodrivericus misterwalkerandmisterwheeleriana–these are by far my favorite off all autos.  every now and again, you’ll get an auto that takes off while one of your feet is still on the ground, who blasts down the street as fast as his little two-stroke will go, who remembers to slow down just as he crests the tops of the speed bumps, and who makes you rethink the tensile strength of your bras straps as you go bounding and bouncing down the road.  you get the distinct impression that this driver is in a gawdawful hurry, and as he wails on the gas, missing passersby by mere inches, you can imagine that the song “she works hard for the money” is blasting (in malayalam) in the driver’s head. 

more variations to be added as encountered…

hotel brunch

today we decided to go to the crowne plaza hotel for their poolside brunch.  so far, every sunday since i arrived has been sunny (the only sunny day of the week), and we wanted to try to keep our luck going (it worked out a little!).

we’ve acquired a great driver named sree (shree) who we can call to pick us up and take us places, saving us the trouble of looking for an auto driver over and over again.  also his english is quite good, which helps (very elitist of me, i understand, but my malayalam is veeeeery limited, like less than basic, and communication is key if you plan on ending up anywhere close to your desired destination, lemme tell ya).  

so sree picked us up at 10:30, and we headed out to maradu, a neighborhood of kochi that we had’t been to yet.  there wasn’t much around but the hotel, but what a hotel! there was a guarded gate out front with steel pylons that retract into the pavement to let approved (foofoo!) vehicles through.  and you’re greeted and welcomed by an army of smiling door attendants. (this hotel, like so many places here, seemed to have twice as many staff as customers!)

needless to say, we were the only ones coming though in an auto (how gauche!!!)

poolside by the kerala backwaters. doesn’t seem so in the pic, but it was pretty sunny (in spurts)

sree dropped us off and we hung out in the lobby for a bit, as we were a little early.  at 11, we went up to the second floor to mosaic restaurant and the infinity pool.  i was devastated to learn that “brunch” didn’t start until 12:30 (that word you keep using–i don’t think it means what you think it means), so we headed out to the pool.

only person in kerala actively trying to get darker skin. people are funny!

the pool was lovely, and as indians are not at all fans of sunning, it was quite empty.  we plopped down into big lounge chairs, sunblocked up (all but my shins which are now charred), and tucked into the books that we got from a local “read, bring back, swap” book shop.  i’m reading _the witch of portobello_ at the moment. 

at 12:30, we peeled ourselves out of the chairs and headed in to brunch.  what a spread!   it was a weird combination of being served and self-serve buffet, and the amount of food we were brought was off.the.chain.  they brought us soup, we got salads, they said they’d bring us a starter (they brought us all the starters), and then we got main courses.  the food was amazing—both delicious and beautiful to look at.  about halfway through the food that had piled up on our table, we were stuffed and had to take a break,  the waiter told us to leave everything at the table and go hang out by the pool and then come back when we were ready for more.  so we waddled back outside, feeling rather defeated by our small stomach capacities, and had a nice book break under a big umbrella.

they just kept bringing us food!

we went back in after about an hour and had dessert and coffee.  the dessert table was unbelievable.  everything was artfully arranged and looked like it had just come off the set of a cooking show.  the servings were quite small, so i got to try several different things.  the indian bread pudding was my fave i think.

the whole experience of eating there was pretty intense.  several waiters helped us, each asking what we thought about the food and encouraging us to eat more, and we were visited by managers, chefs, and sundry other hotel persons.  many of them gave us business cards (a huge thing here), asked where we were from, how long we were staying, etc.  we got a few more cards on the way out.  we’re a bit of an oddity here–not too many foreigners in kochi–so we usually manage to attract a crowd even when we’re trying to hide.

eat ALL the desserts!

the bill was astronomical for india, but only a little over $20 each US (compare this to our cheapest lunch so far, which was $0.60 each).  all in all, very much worth it, though it means that i’ve got a hell of a lot of work to do tomorrow at the gym.

our ride home was pretty non-eventful, other than the fact that sideways rain meant i got soaked the whole way.  not totally unpleasant though, as the rain is nice and cool!

back to the grindstone tomorrow.  still waiting on two (maybe three?) mommas who are ready to pop!

to be continued… 

gym time

it’s an age-old question:  do i get up at the ass crack of dawn and go to the gym, thus giving myself the whole rest of the day to do whatever, or do i wait and go after work, which will eat my evening but will mean that i don’t have to get up before the sun?

the answer is there is no great answer–you just have to pick one and do it.

donna and i started our morning gym routine today.  since we went to bed around 9:00 (staggeringly early by night-owl standards) we both woke up around 4:15.  i tried to doze some more, but then just wound up getting up.  we’d arranged for an auto driver to pick us up at 5:30 and then take us back at 8:30 after our workout (more expensive, but it saves you a hell of a lot of time looking for an auto).

this morning, it was raining tigers and elephants.  not the usual pleasant monsoon rain–a real gusher.  when our guy pulled up and i saw the auto, i knew it was going to be a wet trip.  autos come in all kinds of sizes and levels of snazziness (or decrepitude) and this one was wee tiny.  instead of proper rain flaps, it had ill-fitting vinyl advertisements wedged between the roof and side bars, (sort of) creating a rain barrier.  also, in an auto during monsoon, there is a wet seat and a dry seat.  i got the former.

we wound through the (incredibly) empty streets of kochi, well before the onset of morning traffic, the little auto putt-putting along and choking it’s way through the gears (almost as if to say, yeah you NEED to be going to the gym!).  our driver dileep never turned on the headlights, so we took a very bumpy ride over one unlit bridge in the city.  (the roads are notoriously bad where bridges meet roads, and the lack of light meant that the auto hit potholes and sent us flying).

each time our butts crashed back into our seats, dileep raised a hand as if to say sorry!  so sorry!

after getting a bit lost (this bustling metropolis looks SO different without all the lights, cars, and people out and about!) we finally found our gym and went up for a workout.

hooray for 2.5 miles of walking and 3.5 miles of biking.  and a sauna!

then we showered and headed outside to wait for dileep.  after about 10 minutes, he came putting up in his tiny auto and we headed home.  highlights of the trip home included me getting drenched when a bus beside us hit a puddle, and donna and i looking at each other and cringing as the putt-putt turned to a putt—-putt—-puuuuhhhh.  out of gas.  on a bridge.

never you mind.  dileep hopped out of his seat with a 1 liter water bottle full of gas.  he filled ‘er up, and we went home.  just another auto ride in india.

to be continued….